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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