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Full Title
The complete poetical works of William Wordsworth: together with a description of the country of the lakes in the north of England, now first published with his works ... / edited by Henry Reed.
Author
Wordsworth, William, 1770-1850. Melville, Herman, 1819-1891.
Date Added
8 January 2014
Language
English
Publish Date
1839
Publisher
Philadelphia: J. Kay, Jun. and brother; Boston: J. Munroe and Co.; [etc., etc.]
Source
Woodstock Theological Center Library, Georgetown University.
Topic
Wordsworth, William, 1770-1850. Melville, Herman, 1819-1891. English poetry.
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- . POEMS OF THE
IMAGINATION. 235
XXT, --
THE CHURCH OF SAN SALVADOR, SEEN FROM THE
LAKE OF LUGANO.
This Church was almost destroyed by lightning a few years
ago, but the Altar and the Image of the Patron Saint were un-
touched. The Mount, upon the summit of which the Church is
built, stands amid the intricacies of the Lake of Lugano; and is,
from a hundred points of view, its principal ornament, rising to
the height of 2000 feet, and, on one side, nearly perpendicular.
The ascent is toilsome; but the traveller who performs it will be
amply rewarded. — Splendid fertility, rich woods and dazzling
waters, seclusion and confinement of view contrasted with sea-
like extent of plain fading into the sky; and this again, in an
opposite quarter, with an horizon of the lofiiest and boldest Alps
—unite in composing a prospect more diversified by magnifi-
cence, beauty, and sublimity, than perhaps any other point in |
Europe, of so inconsiderable an elevation, commands.
Tuovu sacred Pile! whose turrets rise
From yon steep Mountain’s loftiest stage,
Guarded by lone San Salvador;
Sink (if thou must). as heretofore,
To sulphurous bolts a sacrifice,
But ne’er to human rage!
On Horeb’s top, on Sinai, deigned
To rest the universal Lord:
Why leap the fountains from their cells
Where everlasting Bounty dwells?
— That, while the Creature is sustained,
His God may be adored.
Cliffs, fountains, rivers, seasons, times,
Let all remind the soul of heaven;
Our slack devotion needs them all;
And Faith, so oft ‘of sense the thrall,
While she, by aid of Nature, climbs,
May hope to be forgiven.
Glory, and patriotic Love,
And all the Pomps of this frail “Spot
Which men call Earth,” have yearned to seek,
Associate with the simply meek,
Religion in the sainted grove,
And in the hallowed grot.
Thither, in time of adverse shocks,
Of fainting hopes and backward wills,
Did mighty Tell repair of old —
A Hero cast in Nature’s mould,
Deliverer of the steadfast rocks
And of the ancient hills!
He, too, of battle-martyrs chief!
For victory shaped an open space,
By gathering with a wide embrace, te
Into his single heart, a sheaf
Of fatal Austrian spears.*
XXII.
FORT FUENTES.
’
The Ruins of Fort Fuentes form the crest of a rocky emi-
nence that rises from the plain at the head of the Lake of Como,
commanding views up the Valteline, and toward the town of
Chiavenna. . The prospect in the latter direction is characterised
by melancholy sublimity.. We rejoiced at being favoured with
a distinct view of those Alpine heights; not, as we had ex-
pected from the breaking up of the storm, steeped in celestial
glory, yet in communion with clouds floating or stationary —
scatterings from heaven. The Ruin is interesting both in mass
and in detail. An Inscription, upon elaborately-sculptured mar-
ble lying on the ground, records that the Fort had been erected
by Count Fuentes in the year 1600, during the reign of Philip
the Third ; and the Chapel, about twenty years after, by one of
his Descendants. Marble pillars of gateways are yet standing,
and a considerable part of the Chapel walls: a smooth green
turf has taken place of the pavement, and we could see no trace ‘
of altar or image ; but everywhere something to remind one of
former splendour, and of devastation and tumult. In our ascent
we had passed abundance of wild vines intermingled with
bushes: near the ruins were some ill-tended’ but growing
willingly; and rock, turf, and fragments of the pile, arc alike
covered or adorned with a variety of flowers, among which the
rose-coloured pink was growing in great beauty. While de-
scending, we discovered on the ground, apart from the path, and
at a considerable distance from the ruined Chapel, a statue of a
Child in pure white marble, uninjured by the explosion that had .
driven it so far down the hill. «How little,” we exclaimed,
“are these things valued here! Could we but transport this
pretty Image to our own garden!”—Yet it seemed it would
have been a pity any one should remove it from its couch in the
wilderness, which may be its own for hundreds of years.
Extract from Journal.
Dreap hour! when, upheaved by war’s sulphurous
blast,
This sweet-visaged Cherub of Parian stone
So far from the holy enclosure was cast,
To couch in this thicket of brambles alone;
To rest where the lizard may bask in the palm
Of his half-open hand pure from blemish or speck ;
And the green, gilded snake, without troubling the
calm
Of the beautiful countenance, twine round his neck.
Where haply (kind service to Piety due!)
When winter the grove of its mantle bereaves,
Some Bird (like our own honoured Redbreast) may
strew _
The desolate Slumberer with moss and with leaves.
* Arnold Winkelried, at the battle of Sempach, broke an Aus-
trian phalanx in this manner. The event is one of the most fa-
mous in the annals of Swiss heroism; and pictures and prints
Who, to recall his daunted peers,
of it are frequent throughout the country.
IE