Of Peace and Love with comment true intend!
Then sometimes for a moment I believ'd
The spirit of Rousseau himself was there,
Or Milton, or of Gray: but morning light
Drove them away: and down my bosom sank,
And much of philosophic fortitude
It call'd, to reconcile me to the flat
Realities, that press'd upon my senses!
But ere due manhood thou hadst reach'd, thy fate Led thee away from these thy native airs,
O eloquent but dangerous Moralist;
And little didst thou ever hear again
The voices of the tempests, as they drove
Their gathering torrents of soul-moving sounds
Over old Leman's billows! the lov'd Muse,
Whom I from babyhood have worship'd, frowns
Upon my prayers, when I intreat his voice,
The strange tale of thy wandring life to paint.
She will not touch me with the hallow'd sweetness
That duly can relate it; nor impart
The piercing eye that to the mysteries
Of thy yet undevelop'd breast can look!
And she the movements magical and strange
Has not the force to construe! I would tell
The story of thy chequer'd days in order
Successive, but my head, and pen, and voice
Are all too weak !—And I must catch by fits
Such lights and shadows, as irregular
O thou fabulist
inspir'd of the new passionate Heloise!
La Meillerai and Clarens from thy pencil
Become th' abodes of dangerous magicians.
But I must leave thee now, and I again
Will at a future hour return to thee!
How wert thou, Leman, in the days of old?
The greatest of the Cæsars had thee once :
JULIUS made thee sometimes his seat of rest,
As northward he advanc'd to victory.
The Church and civil viceroys of the Emperors
Possess'd thee long, and with divided sway
Govern'd thy harass'd people.-
Counts of the Genevois, and despot Bishops,
With iron rod in rivalry conflicting,
Their subjects each tormented for the purpose
Of paining each the other. Then the wretched
Was punish'd twice-firstly for not obeying,
And then again because he had obey'd!
How deep into the night of Time these Counts,
Imperial Viceroys, drew their origin,
To poring antiquary is not yet
Precisely known!-They were among the chief
Nobles and Peers of Carlovingian days!
And many a grand alliance with the Princes
Of France, Helvetia, Italy, they made;
And with puissant grandeur liv'd, and spread
Widely their fame! nor were they wanting in
Mildness of character and arts of peace,
If sometimes to fierce actions thirst of rule,
And irritation of the crosier's sway,
Impell'd them! while a neighbouring encroacher,
Savoy's ambitious Count, was ever pressing
Upon their limits, sometimes by the sword,
Sometimes by plot, sometimes by vile intrigue!
And much more dreaded were they by the people,
Than those they would displace; but after ages,
At length their inextinguishable ambition
Succeeded; and above a nobler House,
More ancient, more benignant, they uprose;
And o'er the shoulders of a tribe oppress'd
Put their tyrannic paws, and bore them down!
Then too the Church's feudal sceptre yielded
To the same thirst of power and politic
Adroitness, and proud Savoy's children grasp'd
The mitre with the sword, and thus united
Sat for three ages on the necks of those
The habitants of thy magnific banks,
O Lake, of which the Alpine side they yet
Tyrannise over! But its chiefest line
At length expires, e'en scarce a few brief weeks
Before the feeble pen these lines records!
But, CARIGNAN, in a more liberal school
We trust that thou wast cradled, and if
power
Superior does not crush the seeds of liberty,
An happier policy may yet be thine!
Harsh the dominion here of the long race
Of thy historic grandsires! Many a deed
Of savage, wanton, power disgrac'd their reigns
Here, and in CHABLAIS! Byron's Muse has told
The horror-striking tale of Chillon's walls;
And sufferings of heroic Bonnivard!
Of the mix'd tissue of whose character,
Curious the records Grenus has preserv'd.
O false professors of an holy Faith!
O ye in purple clad, with crosiers arm'd,
Deeming religion but a cloak for power,
And luxury and vice, how quick at last
You push'd the downfall of your own dominion;
And play'd the part of Luther and Melancthon,
And all the fierce Reformers! Ye were blind,
And in the sad delirium of your sensual
Enjoyments to plain reason utterly
Lost! and O thou the last of falling Rome's
Deluded Bishops, who o'er these free walls
Stretchedst thy rod, where were thine eyes and ears,
And common judgment, when in sight of foes
Advancing with so fierce and keen an onset
Thou play'dst thy pranks, and with impunity
Thoughtedst, (thy pleasures and thy wickedness
Minging with insults unindurable,)
By force to gratify. The daughter fair
Of Lullin's ancient House thou dar'dst to seize,
And kept'dst in tears and prayers and pale affright,
At mercy of thy rude licentious love,
Spite of the swords of heroes, and the cries
Of parents, and the threats and bold assaults
Of madden'd lovers! But not long the day,
Ere came the ruin, so by crime enormous
Provok'd! Then enter'd in the gaunt assailants,
And fire and sword began to purify
The haunts of idol crime and foul debauch,
And blasphemous hypocrisy, and thirst
Of the deluded wretch's wealth, and passion
For worldly power by guile and falsehood won!
But all was not unmingled good; abuse
Of pious rites had gone its utmost length;
And licence new, and open wickedness,
Under the broad eye of the garish day,
Revel'd in all the streets, and on thy banks,
Breeze-breathing Leman! Not the searching air,
That on thy rolling, whitening, waters came,
Could waft it off! Thy sounds were in the breeze,
That, speaking nature's voice, would sometimes awe
The tender spirit. Beauty in the skiff,
That danc'd upon thy glassy surface, borne,
Felt all the mountain winds to brace her frame,
And purify the veins that luxury
In delicate mansions poisons :-but in vain!
The eye licentious gaz'd; and she th'infection
Caught! And a quarter of an age was thus
Approaching to its end, when CALVIN came,
Fierce, bigoted, uncandid, unrelenting,
Demanding liberty of conscience, and
Freedom of thought from Rome's usurp'd dominion
Over the mind of Man, yet granting naught
To others in return; for alledged errors
In speculative doctrines blood demanding,
And binding to the stake and burning flame!
O horrid inconsistency! with goodness
Impossible, as seems, to be combin'd!
But still his name is venerated here;
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