20.

We view the fearful pass-we wind along
The path that marks the terrors of our way--
'Midst beetling rocks, and hanging woods among,
The torrent pours, and breathes its glitt'ring spray.

21.

Weary at length, serener scenes we hail

More cultur'd groves o'ershade the grassy meads; The neat, though wooden hamlets, deck the vale, And Altorf's spires recall heroic deeds.

22.

But though no more amidst those scenes I roam,
My fancy long each image shall retain→→
The flock returning to its welcome home-
And the wild carol of the cow-herd's strain.

23.

Lucernia's lake its glassy surface shows,

Whilst Nature's varied beauties deck its side Here rocks and woods its narrow waves enclose, And there its spreading boson opens wide.

24.

And hail the chapel! hail the platform wild!
Where Tell directed the avenging dart,

;

With well-strung arm, that first preserv'd his child, Then wing'd the arrow to the tyrant's heart.

25.

Across the lake, and deep embow'rd in wood,
Behold another hallow'd chapel stand,

Where three Swiss heroes lawless force withstood,
And stamp'd the freedom of their native land.

26.

Their liberty requir'd no rites uncouth,

No blood demanded, and no slaves enchain'd; Her rule was gentle, and her voice was truth,

By social order form'd, by law restrain'd,

27.

We quit the lake-and cultivation's toil,

With Nature's charms combin'd, adorns the way;
And well-earn'd wealth improves the ready soil,
And simple manners still maintain their sway.
28.

Farewell Helvetia! from whose lofty breast
Proud Alps arise, and copious rivers flow;
Where, source of streams, eternal glaciers rest,
And peaceful Science gilds the plains below.

29.

Often thy rocks the wond'ring eye shall gaze,
Thy vallies oft the raptur'd bosom seek-
There, Nature's hand her boldest work displays,
Here, bliss domestic beams on ev'ry cheek.

30.

Hope of my life! dear Children of my heart!
That anxious heart, to each fond feeling true,
To you still pants each pleasure to impart,

And more-oh transport!-reach its home and you.

The author of this article cannot take upon him.to state, whether her Grace composed these lines during the passage of the St. Gothard; it is not altogetherunlikely, however, that it may have occurred, for Addison, according to his own account, nearly a century before, actually sketched one of the finest pieces of poetry in our language on Mount Sennis, while returning, like her Grace, from Italy to Switzerland.*

* Extract of a letter from Mr. Addison to Mr. Montague, dated Geneva, Dec. 9, 1701.

"I am just now arrived at Geneva, by a very troublesome journey over the Alps, where I have been for some days together shivering among the eternal snows. My head is.still giddy with mountains and precipices, and you can't imagine how much I am

pleased

The following lines were addressed to the duchess soon after the appearance of her poem, which was translated into French* by the best versifier who ever wrote in that language:

ODE

ΤΟ

GEORGIANA DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.

(On the following stanza in her poem, entitled "The Passage of

the Mountain of St. Gothard."

"And hail the chapel! hail the platform wild!
Where Tell directed the avenging dart,

With well-strung arm, that first preserv'd his child,
Then wing'd the arrow to the tyrant's heart.")

I.

"LADY, Splendour's foster'd child!
And did you hail the platform wild,
Where once the Austrian fell

Beneath the shaft of Tell?

O Lady! nurs'd in pomp and pleasure,
Whence learnt you that heroic measure?

pleased with the sight of a plain that is as agreeable to me at present as a shore was, about a year ago, after our tempest at Genoa. During my voyage over the mountains I made a rhyming epistle to my Lord Halifax, which perhaps I will trouble you with a sight of, if I don't find it to be nonsense upon a review. You will think it, I dare say, as extraordinary a thing to make a copy of verses in a-voyage over the Alps, as to write an heroic poem in a hackneycoach; and I believe I am the first that ever thought of Parnassus on Mount Sennis."

*Dithyrambe sur l'Immortalité de l'Ame, suivi du Passage du Mont St. Gothard, traduit de l'Anglois de Mme. la Duchesse de Devonshire; avec l'Anglois à côté, par l'Abbé De Lille. 8vo. et 12mo. sur 5 Papiers."

II. "Light

II.

Light as a dream, your years their courses ran; From all that teaches brotherhood to man,

Ah! far remov'd from want, and hope, and fear!
Enchanting music lull'd your infant ear;
Obeisant praises sooth'd your infant heart,
Emblazonment and old ancestral crests,
With many a bright obtrusive form of art,
Detain'd your eye from Nature! gorgeous vests,
That veiling strove to deck your
charms divine,

Rich viands and the pleasurable wine

Were yours, unearn'd by toil; nor could you see The unenjoying toiler's misery!

And yet free Nature's uncorrupted child,

You hail'd the chapel, and the platform wild,
Where once the Austrian fell

Beneath the shaft of Tell!

O Lady! nurs'd in pomp and pleasure,
Whence learnt you that heroic measure?
III.

"There crowd your finely-fibred frame
All living faculties of bliss ;
And Genius to your cradle came,

His forehead wreath'd with lambent flame;
And, bending low, with godlike kiss,
Breath'd in a more celestial life!

But many of thy many fair compeers
Have frames as sensible of joy and fears;
And some might wage an equal strife,

(Some few, perchance, to nobler being wrought}
Co-rivals in the plastic powers of thought.
Yet these delight to celebrate

Laurell'd war and plumy state;
Or in verse and music dress
Tales of rustic happiness.
Pernicious tales! insulting strains!
That steel the rich man's breast,

And mock the lot unblest,

The sordid vices and the abject pains,

Which evermore must be

The doom of ignorance and poverty! But you, free Nature's uncorrupted child, Hail'd the low chapel and the platform wild, Where once the Austrian fell

Beneath the shaft of Tell!

O Lady! nurs'd in pomp and pleasure,
Whence learnt you the heroic measure?

IV.

You were a mother! that most holy name,
Which Heav'n and Nature bless,

I may not vilely prostitute to those
Whose infants owe them less

Than the poor reptile owes
Its gaudy parent fly!

You were a mother, at your bosom fed

The babes that lov'd you! you with laughing eye
Each twilight thought, and nascent feeling read,
Which you yourself created! O delight!
A second time to be a mother,

Without the mother's bitter groans!
Another thought, and yet another,

By touch or taste, by looks or tones,
O'er the growing sense to roll,
The mother of your infant's soul !
The angel of the earth, who, while he guides
His chariot planet round the goal of day,
All trembling gazes on the eye of God,

A moment turn'd his awful face away;
And as he view'd thee from his aspect sweet,
With living Nature in her joys and woes!
O Lady! thence you joy to see
The shrine of social liberty!

O beautiful! O Nature's child!

'Twas thence you hail'd the platform wild,

Where once the Austrian fell

Beneath the shaft of Tell!

O Lady! nurs'd in pomp and pleasure,
Thence learnt you that heroic measure!"

Although