LIBRARY ANNEX B Cornell University S Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013538503 SONNETS IN SWITZERLAND AND ITALY All rights reserved Sonnets in Switzerland and Italy BY THE ^,* Rev. H: D. RAWNSLEY HONORARY CANON OF CARLISLE AUTHOR OF ' SONNETS AT THE ENGLISH LAKES ' ' BALLADS OF BRAVE DEEDS ' AND OTHER POEMS LONDON J. M. DENT AND COMPANY ALDINE HOUSE 1899 Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty TO JOHN RUSKIN ON HIS EIGHTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY SONNET DEDICATORY TO JOHN RUSKIN With a lureatk of Gentianella and other Alpine flo'wers from St. Beatenberg You give me much, I little, but I know That for poor deed you take the generous will. And so I send from off this ^Blessed Hill' The sweetest flowers in Switzerland that grow. Take them, and let them tell you what I owe, — For you it was who taught mine eyes to thrill At sight of 'gentian ' glory, and to fill My soul with wonders of the Alpine snow. Still do these lowly stars of azure blue Unto that star in Heaven, the great Sun, turn. And in his joy their secret selves unfold; And still your fond disciples turn to you. Open their hearts that for your sunshine yearn. And seek the smile they learned to love of old. VI PREFATORY NOTE * The blossoming time of the year being principally Spring, I perceive it to be the mind of most people to stay in towns ' — so once wrote John Ruskin. He illustrated his remark by the story of a keen-sighted friend who, choosing to violate the national custom, went to the Tyrol in Spring. This friend passed through a valley near Landech with several similarly headstrong companions. 'A strange mountain ap- peared in the distance, belted about the breast with a zone of blye, like our English Queen. Was it a blue cloud, a blue horizontal bar of the air that Titian breathed in youth, seen now far away, which mortal might never breathe again ? Was it a mirage, a meteor ? Would it stay to be approached ? (ten miles of winding road yet between them and the vii Sonnets foot of the mountain) — such questioning had they concerning it. My keen-sighted friend alone main- tained it to be substantial ; whatever it might be, it was not air, and would not vanish. The ten miles of road were overpast, the carriage left, the moun- tain climbed. It stayed patiently, expanding still into richer breath and heavenlier glow — a belt of gentians. ' Such things,' continues Ruskin, ' may verily be seen among the Alps in Spring, and in Spring only ; which being so, I observe most people prefer going in Autumn.' I fear that such a miracle of colour is not likely to be repeated, and such a vision has never been vouchsafed to me ; but at least I can testify that as I crossed the Col de Jaman in early June, I saw a mile away what seemed to be the result of a heavy hailstorm whitening all the slopes, and found this storm-cloud upon the grass to melt into fragrance of innumerable narcissi. viii Prefatory Note These sonnets, which have been written in many holiday rambles in May and June, are published with the hope of inducing a few readers to take their pleasure abroad at the time when the gentian flowers. I have ventured to dedicate the volume to him who taught me, amongst other things, that Nature has nothing fairer to offer to mind or eye than blossom- tide in Switzerland. IX SONNET PREFATORY TO JOHN RUSKIN February 8th, 1899 There was no snow on Coniston Old Man, Nor couched the Langdale Lions grizzled-gray. It seemed the winter had not come that way. And endless spring the golden age began. And you, for whom this earths allotted span. The four-score summers of our mortal day. Had dawned — you heard at Brantwood voices say, ' Strong run your founts of thought as first they ran.^ O joyful healer of dull labour's hours ! O brave revealer of dark mammon's sin ! O sure, swift feeler for our people* s woe ! fVe bring the laurel chaplet and the flowers. Such crown as angel ministers may win. To utter something of the debt we owe. CONTENTS Dedication ..... PAGE V Sonnet Dedicatory .... Prefatory Note ..... Sonnet Prefatory .... vi vii X S-vritzerland ..... I Switzerland once more .... z In a Pinewood ..... 3 The BeU for Early Mass The Foimtain in the Wine-Market, Lucerne Dreams and Work .... 4 5 6 Lucerne again ..... To the River Reuss .... 7 g The Lion of Lucerne 9 At the Three Linden .... lO Enclosure of the Three Linden, Lucerne II A Morning Prayer on the Market-Boat . At Kastanienbaum .... 12 13 The Watch-Tower .... 14 Sunday Morning . . . . . Going to Church at Ob-Biirgen Dayspring on Pilatus . . . . . TheRigi ...... From the Rigi-Kulm . . . . . From the StafFel-Stock . . . . . 16 17 18 19 20 Sonnets PAGE The Crocus Legions 21 On a Seat beneath the Dossenwand 22 TheWissefluh . 23 Mountain Scholars 24. At the Degenbalm 25 Evening at Morschach . 26 On the Axenstrasse 27 At Burglen 28 At Arth-Goldau 29 At the Monument of St. Benedict above Einsiedeln . 30 The Statue of Zwinglius 31 Farevf ell to Lucerne 32 At Stanz 33 Arnold von Winkelried 3+ To Engelberg . 35 At the Sign of the ' Angel ' . 36 The Monastery . 37 Abbot's Day, May 15 . . 38 Gold-Boden 39 The Fohn-Wind 40 Beneath Titlis . 41 At the Trub-See 42 Herm Riltli 43 St. Florian 44 Blessing the Pastures 45 Over the St. Gothard . +6 At Faido, on the St. Gothard . 47 Locarno in Rain . 48 At Santa Trinita 49 Solitudo Continuata Dulcescit . 50 Xll Contents At the Balcony of the Church of the Madonna del Sasso The Islands of Lago Maggiore Isola-Bella Isola-Bella At Baveno The Fire-Fly Orange-Flowers at Baveno Daylight on Lago Maggiore At the Church Door, Baveno On Monte Motterone Sunrise from Monte Motterone The Pheasant-Eye Narcissus The Monte Sacro The Music of the Dawn Evening frohi San Salvatore The Nightingale of Lugano In the Church of S. Maria Degli Angioli Light at Eventide Lanzo d'Intelvi . A Storm The Lost Half-Hour At the Chapel of the Annunciation Evening at Sacro Monte On the Roof of the Duomo, Milan, at Anthem Time In Milan Cathedral In the Refectory, Milan At Como Cathedral Morning at Soglio The Witness of the Flowers Over the Spliigen XIU PAGE SI 52 S3 S+ ss S6 S7 S8 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 7+ 75 76 77 78 79 go Sonnets PAGE My Friend and I . . 81 Kurhaus, Briinig .... 82 The Falls of the Reichenbach . • 83 From Meiringen to Rosenlaui . 84 Between Rosenlaui and the Schwarzwald 8S At Interlaken ..... 86 The Jungfrau ..... 87 At Breitlauenen .... 88 On the Geisshorn .... 89 The Chamois of Lauterbrunnen 90 The Guide's Farewell .... 91 The Wirtschaft on the Old Footpath to Mijrren 92 On the Kurhaus Terrace, Miirren 93 On the Schilthom, June zi, 1896 94 In the Blumenthal, Miirren 95 Alpine Anemones .... 96 Spring Crocuses ..... 97 The Schwarze Monch .... 98 The Wengen Thrush .... 99 The Rainbow Fields of Wengen 100 ' Linkst Hand,' on Sulegg lOI At the Mettlen Alp .... 102 The Young Herdsman's Death . 103 A Memory at the Mannlichen . 104 The Jungfrau Unveiled .... 105 The Alpine Rose .... 106 The Warbler's Song .... 107 At the Upper Glacier, Grindelwald 108 A Return to St. Beatenberg . . . . 109 Hotel de la Poste, 1890 no x:v Contents The Vision of Kings .... PAGE III Afterglow on the Abendberg 112 A Glimpse of the Jungfrau 113 In Butterfly-Land .... 114 In Cricket-Land .... "S The Gentianella (Gentiana Verna) 116 After a Storm at Kanzeli 117 A Sermon in the Church at St. Beatenberg iig At Kanzeli .... 119 TheBirenfluh ..... 120 At Amisbuhl .... 121 Cowbells on the Rischeren Alp . 122 Down the Lake to Thun 123 At the Church Gate, Oberhofen 124 In the Baumgarten .... 1 25 The Tombstone of Heinrich von Strattlingen, the Bard 126 On the Inscription over the Doorway of the Old Schlos< at the Baumgarten, Thun 127 At the Minnesinger's Seat above Chartreuse 128 In Thim Churchyard .... 129 At the Castle, Thun .... 130 On Finding a Swift in the Castle Prison at Thun 131 At the Rabenfluh .... 132 At the Schwabis .... 133 The Golden Star of Thun 134 The Stockhom ..... 135 The Judgment Picture at Adelboden 136 The Village Dance at Adelboden 137 The Bear Hotel . .... 138 In Gastem-Thal .... 139 XV Sonnets PAGE On the Gemini Road above Gastem-Thal . . 140 Wayfarers on the Gemrai • 141 Blanc-See and Daubensee . 142 At the Sign of the Wildstrubel • 143 The Daubenhorn Cliffs . 144 Going to Zermatt • 145 The Matterhom 146 The Chapel of Our Lady of the Snows 147 Hotel du Pare et des Belles Fleurs 148 Going to Nettleship's Grave 149 To R. L. Nettleship 150 Violas on the Col de Balme 151 Moonlight at Pension Reitzel 152 A Fear for Leysin 153 Up La Rionda . 154 Twilight at La Prafondaz IS5 Home Thoughts at Sunset 156 Alpine Anemone-seed . IS7 The Morning Play at Villars 158 On Chamossaire . '59 In the Dungeon at Chillon 160 At Weissenstein 161 Switzerland, Farewell ! 162 Home from Lombardy . 163 Appendix 165 SWITZERLAND Land of undying Winter, endless Spring, — For twice behind the scythe your valleys shine ; Land of the broad-leaved chestnut and the pine, Where all the flowers their gayest garlands fling Before the feet of Summer ; where bells ring An echo to the music of the kine ; Land doubly flowing with milk and mellow wine, — Milk of pure kindness, wine of welcoming — To you I come, worn out with petty care. Come, for the cuckoo called me ; let blue floods And your white-blossoming valleys close me round. And give me leave with simple faith to share The solace of your mountain solitudes. And walk with Freedom on her native ground. Sonnets SWITZERLAND ONCE MORE When in the May, queen-month of all the year, From ofF the heights I hear the herdsman cry, And up from lake or down from bluest sky, The trembling cow-bell music fills mine ear, I feel again inevitable cheer ; Sweet thoughts of Alpine joys that cannot die Come borne on wings of hospitality, From some brown-hooded mountain chalet near. High up above the beechwood and the pine, Faint clouds that fade not, move not, greet my gaze, — The Alpine orchard's wealth of fragrant snow — Then all the long years' sorrow and the haze Of labour lifts, and, Switzerland, I know What happiness, what health of heart is thine. Sonnets IN A PINEWOOD Friend of the sorrowful, not a heart is aching But, charmed by this your happy cloistral shade, Would find his grief before your nfiusic fade, And feel his sadness of your joy partaking ; For here, though scarce a sunbeam through is breaking, The trees are glad with such sweet serenade. Such humming melodies, as would persuade All things that are forlorn to merry-making. Led by the woodland's sympathetic will The wanderer here in darkest mood may stray. Till, sudden pausing where the robin sings. He feels the fragrant roof above him rings With message that the sun is shining still, And down dim aisles his sorrow slips away. Sonnets THE BELL FOR EARLY MASS FROM THE JESUIT CHURCH OF ST. JOSEPH, LUCERNE The Reuss ran hushed and silent beneath the morn, The city lay in slumber, and there fell Forth from St. Joseph's tower an iron knell, And the wall-echoes from their rest were drawn ; Far up the lake, far o'er the mountain lawn The clangour of that iron-mouthed bell Went circling. Shepherds on far heights could tell That prayer would soon on trembling wings be borne; And much they blessed that messenger of good — Only an iron stroke and quivering air, But from the bell full Sabbath peace was given. Lay on the waters, entered to the wood, Made strong weak hearts and comforted despair, And thrilled the earth with promises of Heaven. Sonnets THE FOUNTAIN IN THE WINE- MARKET, LUCERNE They rest upon their swords, and lean, and peer Behind their vizors at the passers-by, In the dark fountain see the changing sky. Themselves unchanged, reflected year by year ; So through four centuries, writh a watch austere Above the waters never fouled nor dry. These knights have kept unbroken fealty, Though blade be rusted, bruised be helm and spear. Ah ! would to heaven, to guard each city's store Of life, while still the white cross shone above. With constant ward such knightly purpose stood ! Then, from the common fount of brotherhood. Yea, even from forth the Dragon's mouth, should pour Perennial streams of purity and love ! Sonnets DREAMS AND WORK HOTEL DES BALANCES, LUCERNE How sweet at eve to dream the time away Above red chestnut blossom floating down, Where the tall lantern lifts its cap of brown Against the Rigi's ridges rosy-grey ! At noon to watch the silver shoals at play In liquid emerald, dancing sunlight thrown High on the eaves of this quaint burgher town, Between the bridges where men pass and pray. Blest is the stream that lulls us to repose When dew-fall brings the silence — but more blest To rouse us unto vigour at the morn, When, like a giant stronger for his rest And fresh for any labour to be borne, The Reuss with joy toward the mill-wheel goes. Sonnets LUCERNE AGAIN Again we see the walls and ancient towers, The brown-capped water-fort, the Rathhaus- hall, The emerald river flooding to its fall Between the bridges ; or, knee-deep in flowers. Where happy swallows slip through drifting showers Of snowy blossom, hear the loud bells call To frequent prayer, whilst wonderful o'er all Pilatus weaves his cloud with magic powers. In sombre kirtles gay with steel and gold, The village people steer the selfsame boats To the same market, with the same grave air. Whilst near, the same dark swan-flotilla floats : One thing alone no changelessness can share. The heart that feels no longer as of old. Sonnets TO THE RIVER REUSS LUCERNE Here at the Waage, as I sit and dream, The Reuss goes rustling on toward the weir. And in its voice sweet echoes I can hear, Of glaciers where the ice-king's treasures gleam. Of Alpine pasture and of Alpine stream, Of barren heights that brought the climber cheer. Of the green levels of the magic mere. Where white clouds swim and mountains double seem. But most, thou garrulous river, still thy tale Speaks of fair villages, of happy men — Fluelen, Brunnen, Weggis — touched and passed. Of cool about the prow, of sunny sail. By verdurous cape and shadowy forest-glen, That brings the wanderer home to rest at last. Sonnets THE LION OF LUCERNE Ne'er saw I, never felt such solemn breath Of deep compassion breathed from carven stone, Nor knew how quiet waters could atone For sorrow by such sending from beneath Of heart-appealing pity. In its sheath Of flesh the spear-shaft breaks, and with a groan The lion's head falls low, the rocks make moan. The hollow grove is resonant with death. This is the meed of duty. They who die Rather than disavow the oath they swear, For them each year in silent woody places Trees bend in grief — their valour fills the air. Clear in death's silent pool we see their faces. And on life's rock their immortality. Sonnets AT THE THREE LINDEN LUCERNE Up through the marvel of the blossoming pear, By sorrel lanes and fields of picris gold We went with joy, half fearing to behold A scene less witching, less divinely rare Than wonder had imagined ; fresh and fair The Lindens tossed their arms that grow not old; We gazed, and purest emerald, Reuss was rolled From out a lake as blue and deep as air. Toward the towers and roofs of sunburnt brown Sloped bowery orchards, hill to pine-clad hill Broidered with tenderest beeches bade rejoice ! Rejoice ye. River, Mountain, Lake, and Town ! Rejoice, ye wanderers ! and a blackbird's trill Came clear to greet us with an English voice. lO Sonnets ENCLOSURE OF THE THREE LINDEN, LUCERNE A patriot's protest Imprisoner of the Lindens, you do well To guard each gable-end with lightning lance. For if the levin-bolt with withering glance Fall, men will say not unprovoked it fell ; For here the lover would his story tell, Here children round the tree in May could dance. Here hearts aflame for freedom and romance Felt the Confederates' passion, knew its spell. No more our babes may hear the hum of bees, Nor old men sit within the fragrant shade. Or smile to see the coral glumes drop down, — An iron hand has dispossest a town. Prates law, and builds unrighteous barricade Between a nation and their Linden trees. II Sonnets A MORNING PRAYER ON THE MARKET-BOAT LUCERNE They sat sun-tanned and marred with care and moil, And sorrow sat there with them in the shade ; A little calm the world could not invade — A little rest from weariness and toil — These were the gifts for which they plied their coil Of beads ; and, while the younger daughter said The morning office, low responses made. And prayed that Mary would the tempter foil. There while they prayed, the shepherd, muttering low, Prayed with them, though his eyes were on the hill, And she, who bore her fruit to market, crossed Her breast, but thought what grapes to-day should cost ; Yet none the less their faces seemed to show They felt the love of Heaven was round them still. 12 Sonnets AT KASTANIENBAUM Tired of my kind, and weary of the town, How pleasant here to roam these orchard-bowers When grey Pilatus bares at eve his towers, Or wreathes the clouds of morning for his crown ; How grateful, where the mower leaves unmown Red sorrel and the fragrant meadow-flowers, When all her milk-white shells the cherry showers, And the red walnut sheds her tassels down. O happy land of blissfulness and rest ! The blackbird sings, the redstarts flash and fly, Through clouds of blossom emerald waters shine; A better gift than fruitfulness is thine — Thine is the balm to soothe an aching breast With hope of Eden's old felicity ! Sonnets THE WATCH-TOWER AT STANZSTADT Where meadows gold with mary-buds, and brown With beaded burnet, shine beside the mere And half forbid the passing boat to steer For Alpnach's waters, poplar-trees look down Upon the harbour of an inland town, And there, its feet in waters cool and clear. Rises a tower that knew not any fear When justice woke and tyrants were o'erthrown. How shouldst thou fear, thou grey-embattled tower, Though arrow sing and torch was hither hurled, And all earth's forces leagued against thee came ? For love of country, with o'er-mastering power. With love for woman, forging bolts of flame. Could hold thy fortress still against the world. 14 Sonnets SUNDAY MORNING FROM THE STANZERHORN Rose-red the Glarnisch kindled, spire on spire The peaks of Oberland put off the night, Pilatus gleamed, and suddenly from sight The whole lake vanished 'neath a mist of fire ; Then from the fleecy billows flooding higher Upstood new islands, over bay and bight The gentler mountains flashed a tenderer light. And every cloud became an angel choir. The travailing earth with all its work and woes Lay veiled beneath that vast translucent throng, But, as up-trembling came the soft bells' chime, A fairer Eden out of chaos rose To sound of Sabbath joy and seraph song. With presage of an unlaborious time. 15 Sonnets GOING TO CHURCH AT OB-BURGEN BURGENSTOCK They leave the orchards, pass the wayside shrine, The path is hard, and rest is pleasant there ; So by the stream toward the church they fare Snow-white against a circling wall of pine. No need for bells ; the silver bells of kine That sound to milking, serve as call for prayer ; No need for sermon ; blossoms everywhere Bid hope for fruit, the sap is in the vine ; — But as they enter to their chapel-porch, And think of that dear life to duty vowed, Who gave his heart that others here might pray, They feel Christ present : as they leave the church, Pilatus rears his head, and speaks aloud Of One who cast a dearer Life away. See Appendix. i6 Sonnets DAYSPRING ON PILATUS The star that hung o'er Titlis' silver'head Paled, and the grey Pilatus seemed to know That soon the southern ridge of Alpine snow Would flush and fill with shadow ; safFron-red, As if the world burned under, there was spread A rampart round the plain ; Zug caught the glow, But still, Lucerne, thy waters lay below As pale as ice whereon the frost is shed. Then over Sentis like a ruby came The great glad god that gave another dawn, And Oberland with all her peaks was bright : Grim Esel cast his shadow from the flame. From a wide world the look of death was drawn. And green once more the valleys laughed with light. 17 Sonnets THE RIGI There is a mountain other aeons made For this time's use ; where once the tides were whirled Hither and thither, tender clouds are curled To bring the rain or yield a moment's shade ; And here all summer in the pine-tree glade Sound faery bells as from another world, And never here the avalanche is hurled To scare the flowers or make the woods afraid. Here, to this mountain, come the worn and sad, And flushed with health again the pale cheek glows. And the weak pulse beats bravely as before ; Here a whole nation's life new vigour knows, For freedom blooms, and every village lad Feels his heart throb in sight of Sempach's shore. Sonnets FROM THE RIGI-KULM AT SUNRISE His heart was never for a patriot made Who — gazing here, when sunrise with a wand Smiting the silver peaks of Oberland Flings on Pilatus Rigi's purple shade — Could watch unmoved, to think of those whose aid Bequeathed their country faith in Heaven's com- mand, Dared face to face with fearful odds to stand. And struck for freedom with undaunted blade ! There shines the vale where Winkelried was born, There Sempach gleams ; here fatefully shot Tell, Here at Morgarten stood the Swiss at bay. Here by the church of ' Kappel ' Zwingli fell ; And, as the mists rise up and float away, The land of heroes brightens to the morn. 19 Sonnets FROM THE STAFFEL-STOCK RIGI Beneath me lay the Kaltbad's welcoming halls, The ground was crocus-starred, the gentian's hue Filled all the grass with hyacinthine blue ; From the far Rigi's rosy mountain-walls, Across the pines, came frequent cuckoo-calls. And clear from yon steep-bastioned Rothenfluh The silent air refreshingly let through The May-tide murmur of the waterfalls. But not dark Mythen under Sentis seen. Nor cloud-enwreathed Pilatus grim and grey, Held me as that Protean Biirgenstock Which down at Vitznau like a lion lay, And now half shadow, now half silver rock, Basked in the sun by Uri's water green. 20 Sonnets THE CROCUS LEGIONS ON THE RIGI While still the cloud hung coldly, and the May Glad in the vales no mountain-heights had crowned, Between the dappled patches, lo ! I found A little army, whose white-plumed array Possessed the field, victorious from their fray With surly winter ; long beneath the ground In patient hiding, at a sudden bound These tiny soldierlings had won the day. No banner lifted, and no bugle blew, Yet down their ranks a movement seemed to run ; The white plumes nodded, each was seen to hold Within his hand three dainty spears of gold : Then first the cause of victory I knew. Their legions owned no leader but the Sun ! 21 Sonnets ON A SEAT BENEATH THE DOSSENWAND ABOVE VITZNAU Rest, herdsman, rest ! for heavy is the pail ; Rest, wanderer, rest ! for heavy is the heart ; Rest, lover, rest ! for bitter is the smart Of parting from the loved one in the vale : For here the flowering walnut scents the gale, The blackbird here sings three times o'er his part. And here the jocund swallows earliest dart With news that Rigi's snow shall surely fail. The rosy ramparts of the Dossenwand Shut out the world ; with rainbows from the rock The silver waters fall adown its breast With silver blossom for the Unterland, And Hke a sleeping lion, Biirgenstock Lies on the lake, the guardian lord of rest. 22 Sonnets THE WISSEFLUH ON THE VITZNAU-STOCK The dark falls on us, blessed by every star, The sun shines round us golden all the day, Care climbs not hither, grief must ever stay Below us in the v/oods, where song-birds are Melodious ministrants ; the bells from far Bring from the depths the least faint sound to say That man, almost too happy, still must pray. Here, where each cloud would seem an angel's car To wing our thoughts to Heaven. Here we sleep Lulled by the tinkling herds, and waked at morn ^y some far jodel from a sister height j All day we hear the mountain shepherd's horn, And when the merry cricket fails we keep With song and dance the shepherd's festal night. 23 Sonnets MOUNTAIN SCHOLARS UP THE VITZNAU-STOCK I HEARD the cataract bellow its command, The sorrowing pines send whisper through the glade, When up the mountain pathway boy and maid — He with his satchel, she with flowers in hand — Came, leaving far below their scholar-band. I asked, ' How fare you children unafraid ? ' ' It is our Father's will, each morn,' they said, ' For vale and school we leave our mountain land.' Dear children, it is such as you who teach : Each day from nearer Heaven your feet can bring An upland blessing to the lowland school ; Mystery of pine-tree music, torrent-speech, Some words of how obedient flowers may spring In homes where simple innocence has rule. 24 Sonnets AT THE DEGENBALM MORSCHACH The brown-leaved walnut's fragrance fills the air, The fields with wild forget-me-not are blue, The Frohnalp's beech has donned her tenderest hue. And Morschach's slope is white with blossoming pear; And I, uplifted on this mountain-stair. With Mythen's peaks and Urmi's ridge in view. Feel how the upland breath can strength renew, And Degenbalm's sure solace banish care. Below my feet the restful village lies, The church-bell sounds at morn and noon and night, To bid men walk the way their fathers trod ; While o'er my head grey peaks of glory rise, And other bells call cheerly from the height To climb through praise and wonder up to God, 25 Sonnets EVENING AT MORSCHACH Belated herdsmen jodel from the lea, The last tired cow-bell tinkles to the stall, And Urmi builds himself a purple wall With each dark rock and every feathered tree, Clear-cut against Heaven's opal : flying free. The bats about the dewy walnuts call, While one bright star is shining over all, And bids the cottage eyes be bright and see. Then, when the waters and the hills are one. And depth and height are lost in liquid haze, The house-lamps twinkle, and the clock clangs ten, Forth to the fields the chalet-jewels blaze To tell the long day's work at length is done. And home is sweet for Morschach's weary men. 26 Sonnets ON THE AXENSTRASSE Vast silent cliffs of saffron, purple-grey, Rose up to Heaven and caught the flying cloud, While underneath, the engine, shrieking loud, Dived into dark and thundered on its wray ; The lake, below, an emerald mirror lay ; Calm trees reflected stood, a fearless crowd — Where Uri's rocks by primal forces bowed Told of the passion of an earlier day. Between the restless cloud and restful flood — 'Twixt life unpained, and life that still must wear The impress of our earth's Titanic pain — I, walking, felt the way for mortals good Which told how hearts that passionate sorrow bear With peace in sight their journey may sustain. 27 Sonnets AT BURGLEN TO THE MEMORY OF WILLIAM TELL Here was he nursed upon this pleasant hill, Hence heard the voice of Schachen all year round Filling the air with free triumphant sound — Impassioned music for his growing will ; And whether with his bow he tried his skill, Following the chamois on the mountain-ground, Or shared the dalesmen's toil, his soul was bound To free his land from hopelessness and ill. So when the Schachen roared with melted snow, And cast the pines like straws along the dale, He knew the Fohn, that wrecked the forest- ground. Grassed all the Alps, and prayed God's wind would blow. Yea, even with wrath, so Love at last prevail, And Hope and Life on Freedom's height should grow. 28 Sonnets AT ARTH-GOLDAU Still must the Rossberg our reproaches bear. The mark upon his forehead be unhealed. And Lowertz' lessened lake and Goldau's field Sown thick with boulders, bid the traveller fear ; Again earth's avalanche he seems to hear, The shuddering Rigi roars, as if it pealed With thunder when Arth's waters backward reeled. And the doom fell that cannot disappear. But to the valley with that stroke of death Came powers of life to soothe and disannul The awful woe of villages forlorn ; The lichen's tender hand makes beautiful The rocky tomb of those who slept beneath, And for their dirge ten thousand pines are born. 29 Sonnets AT THE MONUMENT OF ST. BENEDICT ABOVE EINSIEDELN Here, Father Benedict, I too could stand Through winter storm, through summer's quiver- ing heat, Clad all in white, the raven at my feet. With books and cup and crozier in my hand. And gaze upon the palace I had planned For holy thought, the halls where pilgrims meet. The brown-roofed school, the quadrangle com- plete With church, byre, bakery, playground, garden-land ; But then, like Pastor Zwinglius, I should turn. And entering to the church, I would ascend Its pulpit, crying, ' Brother, leave your cell. Burn no more tapers, ring no sanctus bell ; Our God hath made of dark-faced dolls an end. And claims your heart, wherein His lamp shall burn.' 30 Sonnets THE STATUE OF ZWINGLIUS ZURICH Beneath the tower, where, sword upon his knee, Sits the great Charles who laid the corner-stone. Stands Zwinglius, but his soul is by the throne, No need of sword or Bible now has he ; But those hawk eyes that, seeking light to see, Saw God's Word opened, that deep voice, whose tone Cheered men that climb the stairs of Heaven alone — These knew not Death, or Death has set them free. And here beneath his doctor's ample hood. Stern mouth and prophet's memorable eye. Strong foot so irresistibly set down, Firm face, half-sweet for praise, for blame half- frown, These pierce the heart of every passer-by, And bid men stand for truth as Zwinglius stood. 31 Sonnets FAREWELL TO LUCERNE We go ; we leave the linden-trees, the wall, The landward towers, the terrible bridge of death. The grey-green waters dancing underneath. And that brown-hooded castle which men call The ' Lantern ' ; but our hearts are sad withal, For never May breathed more victorious breath. Nor wove of bloom a more bewitching wreath With power to keep the souls of men in thrall. We glide by poplared cape and slopes a-flower, Pilatus casts his shadow at our feet ; And the reflected peaks of Oberland Bow down before our passage, but the power Of that quaint town, where old and new worlds meet And Spring is empress, holds us by the hand. 32 Sonnets AT STANZ I SAW the dying hero's upturned face Who gathered all the spears into his breast, And so made swifter onset for the rest, Then turned the milk-white meadow-path to trace Toward the homestead of his father's race ; I found a grange whose broad-backed gable-crest Was brown against blue heights, whose wall was drcst With blossoming pear in plenitude of grace. And here beneath the glorious Buochserhorn, That breaks from cloud to pine, from pine to mead. From mead to happy house and orchard-slope — Here in this amphitheatre was born The heart that realised a people's hope, The life that dared the death of Winkelried. 33 Sonnets ARNOLD VON WINKELRIED AT STANZ How could the love of fatherland so placed Not grow to be a passion ? — hither free Sang the loud brooks, and every budding tree In yon grange-orchard on to freedom raced When April touched the meadows, and in haste The blossom reddened. Here the boy could see How Spring from Winter claimed its liberty, How Winter still with chains the Summer chased. And he ? — his heart was filled with hope of spring : Spring, and the summer of content to come, With fruit of patriot good for fer-ofF years ; And so at Sempach, when the tyrant ring Withstood, he gathered to his breast the spears, And fell for God, for Liberty and Home. 34 Sonnets TO ENGELBERG All up the road that through the forest wound We wondered how the vale and hill would lie That charmed an angel message from the sky, And bade the black-robed monks their Abbey found. Then suddenly, where Aars' tumultuous bound Leaps bellowing under Nieder-Wald, the sky Was closed by Harrnen, the Span-Ortten high Sprang up, and Titlis shone with Winter crowned. One-half the vale was shadow, one was sun, The cattle lowed, the plain was all a-flower, And happy dwellings dotted fell and field. A great bell clanged, a mighty grange did run Athwart the vale, white-walled, with one great tower, And, Engelberg, <-hy wonder was revealed. 35 Sonnets AT THE SIGN OF THE ' ANGEL ' ENGELBERG Who takes the passing traveller for a guest May entertain an angel unaware, And since on yonder rocky mountain stair Clouds broke in angel music to attest Here God would dwell, and here His name be blest, Angels have entertained who hither fare. Loosed them of sorrow, freed them of earth's care. And soothed them with some hope of heavenly rest. So, ' Angel,' at thy bidding I have found Hint of the harmonies where angels dwell. For all sweet sounds about thy portals meet : The children's laugh, the goat-bells down the street. Organ and choral chanting, and the sound Of that deep, monitory, convent-bell. 36 Sonnets THE MONASTERY ENGELBERG Grey roof, white walls, and jalousies of green, So Conrad's house two centuries has stood, Bold to withstand, as its forerunner could. All tides of change ; and firm to come between Our restless crowds of rovers and the scene Where is simplicity of peasanthood, The herdsman tends his flock or fells the wood, And poor men live in piety serene. Abbot ! before thy day Frocinus knew Good work must grow in quiet ; he who wrote The parchment, laboured slowly ; though the world In specious clamour at thy gates be hurled, With meditation man thy fort anew And let Distraction here find antidote ! See Appendix. 37 Sonnets ABBOT'S DAY, May 15 ENGELBERG Anselm, this morn, the morn of middle May, Break never fairer ; never from the height Did angels blither sing at morning light, Than when the matin-bell bade souls to pray On this thy namesake's high memorial day. When Conrad's convent-church, that all the night Lay hushed with expectation, woke, with might Of pipe and string, its Hallelujah lay. But, Abbot, not the incense-bearing priest. Nor chant of choir and music in accord, So seemed to celebrate thy golden rule. As these old men unbidden to the feast. Who, trained from youth in this thy convent school. Knelt in the church and blessed the convent's Lord. 38 Sonnets GOLD-BODEN ENGELBERG Here, in this meadow of the cloth of gold, Great sovereigns meet, the white-robed Winter- King And the green-kirtled, glad, triumphant Spring, A celebration of their peace to hold. Not, as for mortal kings in days of old, The shout of hosts and cannons booming bring Applause ; the cataracts roar them welcoming, The avalanche thunder in their ears is rolled. With silver clouds for banners, lo ! the skies In blue pavilioned splendour overhead Shine, and beneath are jewelled tapestries Such as no earthly kings did ever tread, For all sweet flowers have hither flung their dyes, A royal carpet for their feet to spread. 39 Sonnets THE FOHN-WIND ENGELBERG The dust-whorls rise and smoke along the road That maps with milk-white lines the distant vale ; Foreworn we are, we scarce know what we ail, For lo ! the withering Fohn-wind flies abroad ; The mountain packman who so lightly trod Puts down his pack, uneasy slips his bale, The mighty eagle's spirit seems to fail, From weary heights the avalanche casts his load. With a chill sense of prisonment and fear The heavy clouds drop down the hills, and near, Now bitter cold, now fiery is the blast ; Leaves curl, flowers close, the roof-stones crash and fall, Discomfortable loss is over all ; Comes sunshine and sweet rain ! the Fohn is past. 40 Sonnets BENEATH TITLIS ENGELBERG As one who hears with awe and bated breath How on the seventh day, when God would rest, He made a throne of yonder mountain crest. So passed I silent through the meads beneath. The stern cliffs stood crowned still with Winter's wreath, But all the vale by Summer was possest. The air with sound of waterfalls was blest, The ground with bloom, — here never could come Death. And gazing up at Spanort's double horn, I felt, though angel voices here should cease. And Love's religion leave its ancient seat, Man still might know God's will was joy and peace As long as, close beneath the Almighty's feet, Such tender flowers in gentleness were born. 41 Sonnets AT THE TRUB-SEE Instead of bluest waters from blue sky, Grass crocus-pied, with soldanella sown, Was dismal swamp, snow-scorched and winter- brown And overlaid with leaden canopy — Such clouds as hang where souls in torment lie j While, scared by avalanche- thunder roaring down, The swifts for silence far away had flown. And the wild fox paused once, then hurried by. Then o'er that seething cauldron of the cloud High Titlis shohe ; the hand that guards the pass Stood forth like silver, and we clomb up higher : Thence gazing, the disconsolate morass Became a sea of glory, and a crowd Of angels moving on soft waves of fire. 42 Sonnets HERRN RUTLI ENGELBERG When that old Abbot hither drove his kine, And set on Riitli's hill his byre and bield. He knew what hand it was that gave him field, Herb for the cattle, plenteous dew for wine ; And so beside his pen he set this shrine, And taught his shepherds Christ was Lord and shield, That not in vain the convent prayers appealed For fruits on earth, and wealth in things divine. The shrine is buried, the monk behind the bars Who held the lily, moulders and decays. But all who pass this consecrated mound Will find that from the unforgetful ground Each Spring come forth earth's multi-coloured stars, And on the farm Heaven's benediction stays. 43 Sonnets ST. FLORIAN IN THE MONASTERY CHURCH AT ENGELBERG There was no priest behind this golden gate, No angel floating in the painted dome To give him comfort and to guide him home, When Florian went a martyr to his fate. He saw no temples thronged and consecrate With music and the mysteries of Rome ; He dreamed no countless multitudes would come To gaze upon his bones in jewelled state. Nay, take those amethysts from out his eyes, Unstop his careless ears of any gem, Nor fill his mouth with pearls. A poor man's part He played, who wears his crown in Paradise, Who strove to touch his Saviour's simple hem. Whom Christ wears now, a jewel at His heart. 44 Sonnets BLESSING THE PASTURES ON THE BLACHENALP, ENGELBERG He had no need of bell to call to prayer, His meek-eyed congregation with him went, Jangling their bells all up the steep ascent. As Father Joseph climbed the mountain stair. The tapers burned, rich incense filled the air, Rude cowherds, conscious of his good intent, Prayed with the priest in adoration bent. Who gave the pastures to the Almighty's care. More earnest Paternosters ne'er were said. And when they issued from the lowly shrine I saw the names of all the wandering kine Before the Lord upon the altar spread. Father in heaven ! all things that live are Thine, Come from Thine hand, and by Thy hand are fed. 45 Sonnets OVER THE ST. GOTHARD We left the fields where Tell the archer bent The bow whose twanging yet has never died, And high along the Reuss's rushing tide, Behind the steamy dragon, up we went. Chasms were bridged, the very rocks were rent To let us pass. Aloud the monster cried, And coiling on itself in earth would glide By marvellous gyres to gain a higher vent. Then through the mist of hail and blinding snow We roared into the tunnel sulphurous, long, And the head reeled — we almost felt the pain Of that fierce snorting dragon's forward strain ; Forth leapt the light ; blue heaven was ours, and song. And old Italia lay in sun below. 46 Sonnets AT FAIDO, ON THE ST. GOTHARD You died, but, dalesmen, you did well to die ! Than this rock amphitheatre, what scene For your brave act could fitter e'er have been ! Above us to the sun the eagles cry, And Chibiasco, falling from the sky Death-white, betwixt the pines for ever green. Gathers new strength behind its watery screen. And passes on fiill-souled for liberty. Brave-hearted men the tyrant's hand might slay ! And, that you suffered centuries of wrong. Grim chestnuts down the valley still attest ; But a clear voice triumphant, and more strong Than fierce Ticino, speaks for you to-day, God's stream of sympathy for souls oppressed. See Appendix. 47 Sonnets LOCARNO IN RAIN Rain on the heights, Italia grim and grey, And grey the valleys ; Bellinzona's plain And all its vines grey-cloaked in mist and rain, And Lago Maggiore's northern bay Through mist and cloud stretched ghost-like ; so the day Died on Locarno's hills in dreary pain ; Dov^n dreary streets groaned by the dark- drenched wain, And scarce their w^ords the convent-bells could say For muffled melancholy. By the lake The frogs croaked loud ; all else was lifeless, dull ; And drearily the boatman pushed ashore ; And I had come to thee, Italia, full Of dreams of sunshine for the hearts that ache, And Heaven above me blue for evermore ! 48 Sonnets AT SANTA TRINITA ABOVE LOCARNO When sunny Taman trembles for its snow, And Maggia hot above his milk-white strand Swims in the haze, leave thou the lower land While hour by hour the young vine-shadows grow. And the shy lizard lifts his head to know Who comes : climb up to where the lime-trees stand By Santa Trinita, and let the hand Of the cool zephyr gently touch thy brow. Then say if wandering faith did ever find A lovelier place for thought, and cool and calm, A spot more sure to make an old man pray ; For Maggia, singing still his ancient psalm, Goes glad to lose his individual mind And gain the depth and breadth of yonder bay. 49 Sonnets SOLITUDO CONTINUATA DULCESCIT AN INSCRIPTION AT THE GATE OF THE CONVENT OF THE MADONNA DEL SASSO, LOCARNO Right, friar, right ! but not such solitude As mars the thing you live by, your own soul, Which needs must think and act, or it dies whole, Root upward, as your vines die, when the wood Feels in the rock no more its natural good. For me — I had rather have for being's goal The lizard's life beside its cranny's hole. That grows so like the stone he scans for food. No ; if this rotting out in sloth and rust Be all God meant when He created man. Be the sure charm that fits the soul for heaven — To me let city-noise and crowds be given, And cast me from your order, under ban To think and act until my heart be dust. SO Sonnets AT THE BALCONY OF THE CHURCH OF THE MADONNA DEL SASSO LOCARNO Here from the brown friars' balcony I gaze, The long lake laid like silver at my feet. The yellow tower with harbour-pool complete ; White Maggia and Ticino's dusty ways Lost in the purple plain and shimmering haze ; From the near gorge, with sound for labour sweet, The fall of waters, while the crickets beat Their chirring drums, and red geraniums blaze. And I am sad ; the faith that for the poor Planted these walls has dwindled ; on their knees Three ancient men implore the Virgin's aid j Two in the garden tend the brown-backed bees, Who ply, methinks, to-day a healthier trade Seeing they drive all idlers from the door. 51 Sonnets THE ISLANDS OF LAGO MAGGIORE When those old Greeks, fordone with toil of seas, And sorrow of the land, and endless wrong. Hoped against hope for quiet rest among Some golden isle of the Hesperides, They had not seen this tranquil flood, nor these Calm-girt and azure-circled isles of song And sun and flower, where all things tender throng, And earth and air invite perpetual ease — Or, sure, some singer would have smote his lyre, And told men tired with wandering, of a lake In whose calm ripple stars do larger grow, And clouds gain glory, where like emeralds glow Green islands at the noon, where mornings break Up from the depths in golden fleece of fire. 52 Sonnets ISOLA-BELLA Intricate marbles, ceilings lined with gold. Grottoes for nymphs to hide in, with pretence Of far sea murmur ; man's omnipotence Over the fiercer brute, in colours scrolled On tapestries ; great terraces that hold Groves on their shoulders ; here magnificence Breathes from the earth, and over all is sense Of some enchanter's magic manifold. And we who, coasting by the gardens, feel Fragrance of tropic flowers toward us fanned From orange-fruited walls above the tide, Almost forgive the men who on their seal Engraved ' Humility,' but stamped their pride Upon this marvellous isle in fairyland. See Appendix. 53 Sonnets ISOLA-BELLA He reared a monument, who built this isle, To show how patriot hearts forbade to roam Amongst the olives and the vines of home, Or the dark Austrian pines, must needs beguile The weariness of longing ; pile on pile Grew with his terraces of borrowed loam, Trees called the nesting nightingale to come, Bare rock with flower and fruitage needs must smile. Ah ! Borromeo, though the happy dove Found rest within your cedars, though your flowers. Your hills, your grots were consecrate to love. Though all that wealth could give or art could raise Above the wondering waters blessed your towers — Freedom you wanted still, freedom and length of days ! 54 Sonnets AT BAVENO HOTEL BELLE-VUE I KNOW a palace builded by a lake That trembles sapphire to the garden wall ; There, till late morn and earliest evening fall. The nightingale sings clear to hearts that ache. There the magnolia blooms, the palm-trees shake From ivory sheathes their golden flowers, and all Azaleas come for May-tide festival, And in cool shade their swift surprises make. There broods above the place a calm divine, The breath of guardian spirits haunts the air ; There, when the night on Motterone sleeps, And Pescatori's lamps no longer flare, I hear the sound that tells from some far shrine How Prayer her watch unintermittent keeps. 55 Sonnets THE FIRE-FLY BAVENO When Madre's Island like a shadow lies High up upon the ' Iron Rock ' — so clear, Across the still grey water-flood, comes near The phantom of the mountain — then mine eyes Are gladdened by a tiny speck that flies Forth from the myrtle : now it doth appear A boat's prow lantern, now a starry sphere Fallen, but how swiftly, from the dusky skies. I gaze perplexed ; the pulses of its light Beat, and with noiseless beauty move and move, Then fade, or like a starry jewel burn Upon the Nereid sitting at her urn, Anon through sparkling dusk it takes its flight, A creature made for wonder and for love. 56 Sonnets ORANGE-FLOWERS AT BAVENO Ah ! fair Baveno, well do I recall How, when Pallanza burned and writhed with heat. Cool shadows fell right downward to thy feet ; And I, who dreamed beside thy water-wall, Felt the magnolia's incense prodigal Poured from white cups upon the garden-seat, The vine flowers' scent impalpable and sweet, And honeysuckle, sweetest of them all. But most in that enchanting dewy hour I blessed the odours from that pearl of grey That breaks into the semblance of a star. For then the day came near, that was so far, When one beside me bare white orange-flower. And all the world seemed made for marriage day. 57 Sonnets DAYLIGHT ON LAGO MAGGIORE Not as on Derwentwater, when the dawn Comes dancing o'er Helvellyn, comes the light To Lago Maggiore : here the night With jealous, lingering footsteps is withdrawn, And up the hills, and down the mountain-lawn. The blue-eyed morn with silver sandals bright Moves toward the sleeping waters. First to sight The still grey mirror glimmers into fawn ; Next, while the church-bell moans across the mere From some far convent, lilac steals from Heaven, And when the swallow stirs, a roseate cloud Casts down its purple ; blackbirds sing out loud. Green light and gold from dewy slopes are given. Then the blue deepens, and the day is here. 58 Sonnets AT THE CHURCH DOOR, BAVENO THE soldier's OATH First came the German with his soldier's oath To Caesar Imperator, and he vowed To Julia, Dian, and Tarpeia proud. Here above old Verbanus — nothing loth To change for soft Italia's sunny sloth His northern labour ; the invader's cloud Brake o'er the hills — to other gods were bowed The stubborn necks of Hun and Visigoth. Last came Heaven's Imperator, whom God sent To be the word to all whoe'er should till The vines on Motterone's bowery slope ; And now, while fragrant clouds the old church fill. And the priest mumbles in his golden cope, The pure in heart may claim Christ's sacrament. See Appendix, 59 Sonnets ON MONTE MOTTERONE Thy feet are set in waters sapphire clear, Thy knees are cool with chestnut and the vine, The star-narcissus girds thee, bells of kine Sound on thy brow, the lark enchants thine ear. Northward the ice-kings frown, thou hast no fear — Though east and west perpetual winter shine, For southward to the furthest Apennine Thine eyes can gaze on harvest all the year. To thee was given a trust, and not in vain, Thou great inspirer ; he who when he died Slept with his horse and armour by his side. Here on this utmost peak, has left the key To thy heart's secret ; yonder peaceful plain Knows well the crown of strife is Liberty. See Affendix. 60 Sonnets SUNRISE FROM MONTE MOTTERONE Pale Lago Maggiore lay below, And stretched a death-white arm toward the dayj Lombardia's plain was veiled, and Toche grey Swept down dark vales to livid Orphano ; Far to the west, with her nine peaks of snow, Stood Monte Rosa, ghostlike — you would say No sun could ever rise to chase away Such lifeless shadow with triumphant glow. But sudden, eastward, under bars of gold. Gleamed the first glorious promise of the morn, And Monte Rosa trembled into flame : Then all the valleys purpled, fold on fold, The long lake lightened, over miles of corn The Sun, the B ringer of life's gladness, came ! 6i Sonnets THE PHEASANT-EYE NARCISSUS UP MONTE MOTTERONE Above the vines the cherry-trees are growling, The chestnuts o'er the cherries make cool shade, And I up-wandering found a Httle maid Whose hair was brown, whose eyes like jet were glowing. She looked me through, as of my heart's wish knowing. Then in her gentlest Latin tone she said : 'These are the flowers wherefrom our wreaths we braid When to the church in May-time we are going.' I looked, and lo ! ten thousand thousand stars. With eyes like pheasant's, glittered in the grass, And where the crickets made their gayest cheer She plucked and sang and plucked, and I, alas ! Knew not the words, but still these liquid bars Of song in soft narcissus-time I hear. 62 Sonnets THE MONTE SACRO AT VARALLO I ASK no hundred days exempt from pain, For I have seen here Christ upon His rood — Ij who 'neath stars of Bethlehem have stood. Drunk Nazareth's well, by Galilee's blue plain Of sparkling waters wandered, and was fain To weep at Olivet, in solemn mood Have climbed, Varallo, through thy holy wood. And seen hate's loss and love's eternal gain. What Caimi planned and grave Gaudenzio drew Shall moulder in each iron-grated cell. And Borromeo's skull shall grin no more ; But long as Mastelone's waters roar. The faith that built compassion's citadel Shall on these heights her eagle's wings renew. See Appendix. 63 Sonnets THE MUSIC OF THE DAWN From this flower-girdled palace by the shore Of old Ceresio, like a casket set, How many eyes, when dark and dawning met, Have almost wished the noon would come no more, The morning woke so wondrously, — before, Caprino stood, dark purple, dewy wet, While far Legnone's snowy coronet Flashed glory southward to San Salvador. Then all things that had breath a moment stirred ; The roses trembled, every mountain lawn Moved into shadow-dance, as if it heard The music of the making of the dawn ; And, to the song of birds, the sleeping lake Seemed with a sudden sense of joyousness to wake. 64 Sonnets EVENING FROM SAN SALVATORE When all the hills between us and the west Seem unsubstantial from the breath of Him Who framed them, and where Specchio's waters brim, The grey plain shows the jewel on her breast, Then do I climb San Salvatore's crest, - And bow my knee within its chapel dim. And hear from far-ofF bells the sound up-swim Of thanks to God who gives His people rest : — Rest for the beasts that toil, the men who till ; Rest for the farms, safe-sheltered in their groves ; Rest for the upland huts, the lakeside town ; But one dark thing unresting moves and moves O'er Campione and Caprino's hill, The growing shadow of Saint Saviour's crown. 65 Sonnets THE NIGHTINGALE OF LUGANO Come from a north that knows no nightingale, How could my heart not thrill to hear the song That tells so many centuries of wrong With such an old-world sweetness ? To its tale San Salvatore in the moonlight pale Hushed all his leafy whispers, and the throng Of feet that passed in heedlessness along Paused, and the fisher luffed his homeward sail. For from the fragrant myrtle by the lake. And from the stars, and from the pearly tide, There came the voice of Philomel, to say That souls must sorrow and that hearts must ache, Till Hate has vanished and till Death has died, And Love find Love, and Night become the Day. 66 Sonnets IN THE CHURCH OF S. MARIA DEGLI ANGIOLI LUGANO In Mary's Church of Angels by the shore — Wherein Luini, labouring for his bread, Painted the Bread of Heaven, a Saviour dead. And gained not gold, but fame for evermore — Is Christ the Child, and She whom men adore : He rides no horse, bestrides a lamb instead. Facing the boy Saint John with curly head. And heart ripe-full of frolic to the core. But I might see how still the Saviour-Child Looked for communion to His Mother's eyes, And questioning held the lambkin by its ear, While She, as if She felt how sacrifice And some dark day of doom was drawing near. With sweet assent most pitifully smiled. 67 Sonnets LIGHT AT EVENTIDE LUGANO When to far shepherds on Caprino's height The day has died from ofF Legnone's snow, And very solemnly the afterglow Enpurples Salvatore, sudden light Springs up beyond Porlezza ; burnished bright, Cloud-mountains in the clear green ether grow, And with new glories leaping from below Lugano's water quite forbids the night. So when our daylight darkens on the slope Of these dim hills up which our feet have trod, May rain and mist of tears have built in Heaven Hills flushed with Love, and heights aflame with God, Wherefrom to eyes that watch shall still be given Some sign of joy, some monument of hope. 68 Sonnets LANZO D'INTELVI We left the torrent in its sinuous cave, Osteno's tower clanged out Farewell ! Farewell ! Upward we went by cuckoo-haunted dell And cricket-hearted meadow. Cheerly brave The horses jangled onward, wave on wave Green billowy slopes to far Porlezza fell, Till on our left we heard deep Lanzo's bell, And knew what hope of home its music gave. Then down an English lane, through English air, We, but just now in Italy, passed on, A blackbird carolled with a voice of May, When sudden at our feet a sapphire shone, And with its villages reflected fair. Blue deeps — a heaven on earth — Lugano lay ! 69 Sonnets A STORM ON MONTE GENEROSO Through fragrant beechen groves we speed our way ; Below, the villages from steep to steep Crowd round their churches close, like flocks of sheep Huddled about their shepherds in dismay ; The Lombard plain's great level — blue and grey, Through which the coiling rivers gleam and sweep Like a sun-smitten, sail-flecked, shadowy deep — Rolls into distance, with a vast inlay Of towns and towers unnumbered ; furthest seen, A snowy bar of never-melting cloud. Borne high on purple wings, the mountains stand. And sudden from the peaks of Oberland To Piedmont's nearest spur of misty green Fierce lightnings flash, the thunder peals aloud. 70 Sonnets THE LOST HALF-HOUR LUGANO, MIDNIGHT, MAY 3I, 1894 Last night the clocks that clanged from every tower Struck twelve, then, leaping forward, lightly went, And Europe's middle nations by consent Gave to the hand of Death a full half-hour. If mortals had such arbitrary power, What hours of wrong, what moments idly spent Should we consign to endless banishment, Or give to dull oblivion for his dower ! We would not wait for midnight's drowse of sleep. Nor make-believe with cog and weight and wheel And senseless dial to cast the time away ; But wide-awake, and in the face of day Our shears should cut, albeit the wound was deep. And trust Love's full forgetfulness to heal. See Appendix . 71 Sonnets AT THE CHAPEL OF THE ANNUNCIATION SACRO MONTE, VARESE Hard by the Gate of Joy is nobly set A chapel to the Lady of the Rose ; Who, crossing from the fountain, thither goes, May see a simple bedchamber complete With such adorning as for maids is meet : Beside the bed, all ranged in order close. Are set the shoes, the basket for her hose Stands near, unruffled lies the coverlet. And all the air is quiet, but I might see One heart beat fast in wonder what would prove The angel's salutation in her ears : ' Hail, Mary ! for the Lord is come to thee.' Speechless she stands, while o'er her floats the dove. And dovelike in her innocence she hears. 72 Sonnets EVENING AT SACRO MONTE VARESE How falls the evening on Varese's plain When over Monte Rosa day declines ! — A cool air w^hispers in among the vines ; The swifts cry loud, and from her grove again The nightingale retells her love and pain ; White lies the lake, stand purple-dark the pines ; Unseen before to sudden brightness shines Now town, now tower, like lilies after rain. Then populous cities tremble into haze, The silver roads gleam out and fade afar. The lucent mists go wandering out of sight, Till, though Bisbino show his silver star. Our sacred mountain's shadow as we gaze Grows, and Val Gagna darkens into night. 73 Sonnets ON THE ROOF OF THE DUOMO, MILAN, AT ANTHEM TIME Here on this marble mountain, as I stand Among its multitudes as white as snow Of forms fresh-winged for Heaven, who fain would go But linger, waiting God's august command, I hear the cupola, Omodei planned, And Croce's tower, throb loud, while far below Organ and chant would have us mortals know How heart of stone can join the angel band. Then with triumphal benison, the choir Of saints, who bore the cross and wear the crown, Breaks into Alleluias with accord ; And sounding forth beyond the purple town, From Lambro's tide to Monte Viso's spire, A people's praise floats upward to the Lord. 74 Sonnets IN MILAN CATHEDRAL Forth from the sun-lit city's dazzling square, The cloistral mart, the teeming colonnade, I passed through gates of silence into shade. Blind for the sudden contrast, and was 'ware Of shadowy congregations bowed in prayer ; And while through awesome dusk an organ made Its moan, one murmured, and a phantom swayed And tossed dark arms above the altar-stair. High over all, in His death agony — The sole weird gleam in that cathedral gloom — Hung Christ in utter friendlessness of woe ; I felt fresh hours of darkness and of doom, I heard a great exceeding bitter cry — ' Friend ! brother ! why dost thou forsake Me so?' 75 Sonnets IN THE REFECTORY, MILAN As one sits in front of Leonardo's great picture of the Last Supper, one may see inscribed upon the walls the motto, 'COMEDITE AMICI HIS CONTENTI SIMUS.' Ay, we may feed, and therewith be content, Seeing for those who gaze on yonder square The painter Leonardo gives the fare ; For though he failed him of his full intent, And the false oil with truest colour blent Has left the Christ a phantom on the air Of the blue twilight, still the face is there, We know the Man Divine, Da Vinci meant. They scarce can speak ; they mutter, ' Is it I ? ' Save Judas, he can boldly ask the Lord, For he has heard what Peter whispered John. James draws his breath for horror, says no word, But one majestic Face looks sadly on, Less sorrowful for death than treachery. 76 Sonnets AT COMO CATHEDRAL pliny's statue Here sits in marble, with his scroll in hand, The student-lover of the Larian lake. Whom Trajan trusted for his wisdom's sake ; Who, going governor to the Asian land. Waited his Lord's imperial command, What steps to stay that heresy he should take, Which, in the name of Christ, had dared forsake The temple courts, and all Jove's altars banned. He saw Vesuvius' ashes blur the sky And bury Herculaneum ; dreamed not Rome Would sink in fiercer fires ; nor ever knew That ' harmless superstition, doomed to die A natural death,' would to his honouring come, With sweet forgiveness for the hand that slew. See Appendix. n Sonnets MORNING AT SOGLIO Fresh from the silence of Lombardia's plain, How pleasant, Soglio, on thy lawns to hear The sound of falling waters, far and near ! The roar of Mera, careless of all rain, Knowing ' Bondasca ' gives her snowy gain ; The flute of ouzel, and that chime most dear To him who loves the simple mountaineer — The mellow cow-bells, with their soothing strain. But sweeter far it is to wake at morn And hear above the murmur of the stream The children's voices, and the pattering feet Of friends, that for another glad day meet — The goats — who come obedient to the horn, Drink at the fount, and vanish like a dream. 78 Sonnets THE WITNESS OF THE FLOWERS No wonder, in the valley far below, That Luther's meadow every June is white With fair St. Bruno's stars ; that on this height. Round Luther's Plain, the scarlet lilies blow : For here men stood who, brave to overthrow That creed which hung between them and the Light, Man's mediatorial darkness, claimed the right Of lonely souls, their Father's love to know. Wherefore each Spring the white flowers' starry host Gleams in yon valley meadow, to proclaim That there of old, upon a Christmas morn. To Bethlehem's star, a people's vow was sworn. And, symbol of God's glorious Pentecost, Here lilies break to scarlet tongues of flame. 79 Sonnets OVER THE SPLUGEN THE navvy's cross I, WANDERING up by Steep St. Jacomo, Where, swift for Barbarossa's ancient halls The Liro leaps, and fills the valley walls With thunder, thought how hither long ago Macdonald pushed his cannon through the snow. Battling with winter ; heard his bugle-calls. Saw regiments swept to death by avalanche falls, Men mad for fear, who quailed not at the foe. Fame of thy deed, Macdonald, shall not cease While men praise war ; but lo ! this iron cross Tells how some simple labourer toiling died : You hewed a mountain path in warrior pride — His venture was a nobler thing — his loss Dear life, in service of the way of Peace. See Appendix t 80 Sonnets MY FRIEND AND I THE SPLUGEN PASS There in the barren pass I saw him stand, His yellow hair, his eyes that seemed to shine Like those forget-me-nots of blue divine That gem the mountain slopes. * My Fatherland ! ' He cried, 'with breath of Home my brows are fanned ! ' And down, through cowbell chimes and odorous pine. Toward the cradle of the nursling Rhine We went with hearts together, hand in hand. There leapt the rushing torrent blanched by snow, That keeps a nation strong and sings it free ; And as I gazed, the gates of Time flung wide, The self-same river with primaeval tide Made mine own England out of darkness grow, And swept a path for the encircling sea. F 8i Sonnets KURHAUS, BRUNIG High on the bowery pass the hostel stood, All day the warblers filled the balmy air With life's intoxication, driving care And pain and passionless being from the wood ; All night the cricket and his merry brood Chirped of content, and down the mountain-stair, Across the vale, with silver-flashing hair The torrent sisters sang of summer flood. Around the house were quiet leafy places. Where pathways led from glade to beechen glade With irresistible windings, and sweet lure From Alp to Alp — so tranquil, so secure, You almost thought to see the shy fawn faces, And felt that Pan's old empire was remade. 82 Sonnets THE FALLS OF THE REICHENBACH Through houses blackened by the fire's fierce tongue We crossed the Aar, we clomb the mountain- stair, And sudden o'er a chalet-roof were 'ware Of a huge cloud of whitest smoke that sprung Forth from a cleft, and bellowed loud, and clung And belched as Hell had opened wide on air. While voices of the doomed in wild despair O'er Hash's vale in lamentation hung. There came a child ; no fear was in her face, And following up the Reichenbach, we found The Rosenlaui's gift of melting snow ; A thousand angel-figures seemed to throw Hands over head and leap with jubilant sound In flowing skirts of imimagined grace. 83 Sonnets FROM MEIRINGEN TO ROSENLAUI We left that vale of waters where the air Is never silent ; Reichenbach outspoke With voice of thunder from his cloud of smoke, Wherein he hides his restlessness and care. Wet with his breath, we climbed the stony stair. Till Rosenlaui's wonder on us broke, And Wellborn with her pines and glacier-cloak Cast round her shoulders rose : peace, peace was there. It seemed as if the torrent at our side By such tranquillity was dispossest Of its own natural haste, forgot the falls And foam of Rosenlaui's water-walls. And dreaming that its calm would still abide. Bade weary hearts a little while have rest. 84 Sonnets BETWEEN ROSENLAUI AND THE SCHWARZWALD The huts were closed, no cowbells chiming clear Told that swift June had overtaken May, The Reichenbach in sorrow by our way Made moan with waters colourless and drear. And those dark pines that murmured sadly near Stood without song of bird, and seemed to say Grim Wellhorn's pitiless heights of silver-grey Had filled their hearts from youth with sense of fear. Then at my feet in multitudes I saw Blue gentian and the mealy primrose shine. And heard far-ofF a happy goat-herd boy Call to his fellow through the groves of pine ; Methought, such souls no wilderness can awe, Youth's quintessential life is fearless joy. 85 Sonnets AT INTERLAKEN From loud Italia and her echoing streets, Her ash-grey rivers and her songless plain, How good to hear the blackbird's jocund strain, And rest upon your walnut-shadowed seats Where Bodeli's emerald river brims and fleets Southward, — to watch the mower pile his wain Here in your mighty mead, and feel again The ' Mountain Maiden ' temper noontide heats. Bodeli ! the monks who built their house of prayer. Or round their cloister-meadow set sweet shade. If e'er they felt their hearts in vain had striven To break earth-fetters so much beauty made. Lifted their eyes, and Jungfrau shining fair Caught up their souls unerringly to Heaven. 86 Sonnets THE JUNGFRAU FROM THE HOHEWEG, INTERLAKEN In that old cloistral mead of grass and flower Beneath the mossy walnuts' gathering shade, We watched the snow-white mighty Mountain- Maid Go through her changes, felt her glorious dower Of calm and purity, and knew the power Wherewith she comes all mortal hearts to aid. When sure of life hereafter, unafraid, She waits in patience her appointed hour. The sunlight faded from her virgin crown. And there she sat majestic, spectral, pale. Till all her long day's unremembered grace Reborn with roseate splendours flushed her face. And o'er the undying Lady of the vale The deathless stars with welcoming look down. 87 Sonnets AT BREITLAUENEN SCHYNIGE PLATTE Who 'neath Breitlauenen's larches seeks his rest, What time from Niederhorn's empurpled walls The first night-shadow over Brienz falls, When all the flame that ever fired the west Burns through soft haze on Thun's resplendent breast — Will hear such silver chime of cattle-calls As needs must charm the ear it quite enthralls, And make him feel the mountain life is best. — For in the plain, 'twixt either sister lake, Brown dwellings swarm like busy clustering bees That know no rest ; there commerce cries her wares, There labourers patch the earth with purple squares, ^ Down there are hates, resentments, jealousies ; Here at Breitlauenen, hearts can never ache. Sonnets ON THE GEISSHORN SCHYNIGE PLATTE If one should ask where mortal man may stand Who feels for this life's littleness forlorn, To know cloud mysteries, learn how Heaven is born, How earth was built, and with what prodigal hand She yields her jewels when Jxmetide gives command — Here would I set him on this grassy horn. When unimaginably bright the morn Shines on the silent peaks of Oberland, Then the deep gorge is glad with torrent tone That bids the great world rest not but rejoice. Then in the ' Vale of Waters ' to the dawn The Staubbach waves her flag of rainbow lawn. And hard by, seated on his mighty throne, The young glad day sends forth a glorious voice. 89 Sonnets THE CHAMOIS OF LAUTERBRUNNEN They penned it for a peepshow in the vale, A creature of the clouds and of the air, Bold as the wind the barren heights to dare, With heart as restless as the flying gale. How could its life not droop, its spirits fail ? He saw the sun on Jungfrau shining fair — Those silver clifFs, the craggy precipice-stair That led to pastures only he could scale. All day white Liitschine through his prison gate Sang loud of liberty ; he felt the smoke Of Staubbach free as angels, and one day He caught the far-ofF whistle of his mate Sound from the Monch's dark shoulders, and men say ' A chamois died ! ' — 'twas Freedom's heart that broke. 90 Sonnets THE GUIDE'S FAREWELL TO ULRICH LAUENER AT LAUTERBRUNNEN Last veteran of a lion-hearted band, Withered of form, in spirit unsubdued. The conqueror of the mountain solitude, He stood alone ; his snow-seared eyes still scanned The well-loved heights : I held his horny hand. That hand so sure in all vicissitude, — And this was he who first of men had stood On many a virgin peak of Oberland ; And this was he who well had fenced with death. Who well had kept all charges to him given. Now he was old, his bones were racked with pain ; ' Farewell,' I cried, ' brave heart, we meet again !' And Ulrich answered grave, beneath his breath, ' Master, no more on earth ! perchance in Heaven.' See Appendix* 91 Sonnets THE WIRTSCHAFT ON THE OLD FOOTPATH TO MURREN Where Staubbach gathers strength within the wood To pour itself in music to the vale, The rest-house stands, whose welcome cannot fail For all who deem that shade and song are good. Here, when the midday sun with silver flood Pours over Jungfrau, and the Monk is pale, Oft have I listened to the traveller's tale, And known the joy of wandering brotherhood. For all who hither climb or here descend Bring with them scent of pines and sight of flowers, And the continual sound of falling streams, The glowing mountains minister to dreams Of cloudless sun, perpetual summer hours. And not a man but feels his fellow friend. 92 Sonnets ON THE KURHAUS TERRACE, MURREN From Eiger round to snowy Gspaltenhorn No cloud can dare to fleck the tranquil sky. The redcap warbles, and the wild choughs cry, While sound of waterfalls from distance borne Through lilac-scented air this sunny morn Brings to us sense of cool and melody : What heart can fail to put the future by. What soul but feels the present less forlorn ? And if the avalanche thunder from the height. It thunders harmlessly ; on yonder hill. With its grey bastions and its golden towers. The echoes die, they cannot even fright The chamois feeding safe among the flowers, And all the world seems here secure from ill. 93 Sonnets ON THE SCHILTHORN, June 21, 1896 THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE DEATH BY LIGHTNING OF MRS. ARBUTHNOT Still on the Schilthorn stands the funeral-stone, Though six-and-thirty years have flown to-day Since Heaven's fire-chariot bore the bride away And left her lover on the mount alone ; Few pass without a deep-drawn sigh, and none Speak as they pass j in secret many pray ; And when about the place fierce lightnings play. Grief sounds within the thunder's solemn tone. There is small need of monumental cross, As long as hearts are human and tears fall For life cut short, beloved from lover torn ; The whole drear scene from 'neath this snowy horn To Jungfrau's height is eloquent of loss — The mountain is the Bride's memorial. 94 Sonnets IN THE BLUMENTHAL, MURREN Bring the tired hearts whom Nature's power can aid, By this world's use benumbed or crushed by ills, Here to the crescent circle of these hills. Where sit the kings of winter snow-arrayed. Hence shall ye watch clouds born, see thunder made, Catch the ' Monk's ' music with his thousand rills, And feel what fear the ' Trembling Valley ' fills When Jungfrau roars her ceaseless cannonade. And if at all the terror of the place. The unapproachable weight of wonder, make The soul shrink back, and sense of beauty fail, Let soldanella's thousands, and the race Of sulphur wind-flowers and the crocus pale Bid fearless love and reverent joy awake. 95 Sonnets ALPINE ANEMONES IN THE BLUMENTHAL AT MURREN Crushed by the overpowering bastion wall Of Jungfrau's height, appalled and soul-oppressed, We turned for breathing to a wider west, And climbed the narrow path to Blumenthal j Sadly the herdsman patched his broken stall, So long the snow his pasture had possessed ; The winter cold had burnt the mountain-breast, And driven the flowers, we thought, beyond recall. Then sudden by a stream's impetuous race, Like sunshine breaking upward through the ground, A host of frail anemones were seen. Part white, part yellow, dancing on the green : We felt our souls unto their measure bound To find light hearts in such a lonely place. 96 Sonnets SPRING CROCUSES IN THE BLUMENTHAL, MURREN We are the sun's first couriers, and we know What grass shall clothe the mountain and the moor, What flowers shall bless the children of the poor, And set the humblest cottage rooms aglow ; Here, long before the herdsmen open throw Their chalet windows and the frost-browned door, We people with white multitudes the floor. And push our tender spear-heads through the snow. And mortals, straying to our upland home. Where no bees murmur yet and no birds sing, Have marvelled at our boldness, and have said, ' How are these gentle creatures unafraid ? ' — They have not learned that from God's hand we come To speed with joy His message of the spring. G 97 Sonnets THE SCHWARZE MONCH FROM MURREN The skirts of other mightier mountains sinlc To sunny woods and pastures gay with flowers, But to thy making there came sterner powers — Fear and despair, that tremble on the brink, And awe, that from thy presence still would shrink. Thou hurlest Winter from thy snowy towers. No cloud in Spring with freshness on thee lowers, And of the Summer rain thou dost not drink. The million years have striven to lend thee grace, Unnumbered suns have given thee gold for grey, Through dawn, through dark the torrents wrap thee round With floating veils of soft, incessant sound ; Utterly naked, still thou dost out-face Full glare of noon, and blush of setting day. 98 Sonnets THE WENGEN THRUSH He never quite forgets that liquid lay Who hears the warbler in the Stanstadt reeds, Yet if when squirrels drop their whispering seeds And spruce-tufts cast their yellow hoods away Through Wengen woods the traveller chance to stray, Thenceforth all other song he little heeds — He feels himself borne back to English meads And dreams of bluebell woods and wreaths of May. For here with indefatigable voice The speckled bird makes merry in the bush, And carols forth so lustily and strong You might believe each thing that would rejoice — Tree, flower, sun, air — had bade the happy thrush To be its minister of soul and song. 99 Sonnets THE RAINBOW FIELDS OF WENGEN Summer and winter time should never cease, So seem those snowy heights, these fields to say; Let rainbows trick the air with bright array, And through the storm-shower let the sun speak peace, We have no need of messengers like these, No signs of bow and cloud to pass away. Born of the sun and rain to longer stay, Earth flings her rainbow's banner on the leas. For here when cranesbill purples all the grass, June wears such colours as men see in Heaven, And casts her mantle o'er the meadow slope So flower-embroidered, not a soul can pass But feels God's covenant of love regiven, And hears the undying harvest-song of hope. 100 Sonnets 'LINKST HAND,' ON SULEGG When out of deeps abysmal Sulegg came, Did old Oceanus with dark-browed despair Sit yonder in his lone colossal chair To watch his 'minished kingdom as the frame Of earth grew visible, and did he blame Peak after peak uprising bald and bare, And laugh to see the great tides rend and tear The valleys with a might no hand could tame ? Or rather, climbing to his high-built seat. Did some earth-giant view with cruel eyes The mountains lift, and life and war begin ? Or did the God of earth and sea and skies Through clouds of new-born incense at His feet Hear prayers of men and praise of seraphin ? lOI Sonnets AT THE METTLEN ALP WENGERN There, Death and Terror hold an endless reign, Far up, from cruel clifFs of silver-grey Grim glaciers break and cast their lives aw^ay With groaning and unutterable pain ; Here, Life and Peace abide ; with silver strain Of bells the cattle through the pine-groves stray, A soft wrind sets the flowering firs asway And fills the air with pollen's golden rain. Life ! Death ! — how narrow is the gulf between ! Yet none may dare to cross the dread crevasse — Here, summer-meads beneficently green. There, winter-heights that know no joy of grass, While thundering out of sight to the ravine All day the Jungfrau's avalanches pass. 102 Sonnets THE YOUNG HERDSMAN'S DEATH WENGERN Upon his fir-bough mattress dying lay The youngest herdsman of the Wengern folk. And very tenderly the grey-beards spoke Of home and friends in valleys far away. He clasped his hands together, seemed to pray, Then slept, but sudden from his dream awoke Crying, 'The young bull from the pasture broke. But I must bring him back ere close of day.' And he went forth in spirit to the wild, His eyes are closed, his body lies stark still. And round his bed gaze wistfully the kine. Father of all. Thou wilt receive this child Who, to the last, earth's duty would fulfil, For work is prayer, the labourer's wage is Thine. 103 Sonnets A MEMORY AT THE MANNLICHEN MARGARET Why should I mourn or nurse a bitter smart Because no more she doth companion me \ Through the dark pines her sunny face I see, Her laughter from the wild rock seems to start ; Here at the Mannlichen her childish heart Made winter spring, she sought the flowers with glee. Crocus and gentian and anemone, Of the live air her spirit's joy was part — Yea, still is part ; although her feet are gone To fairer heights where only angels are, Her presence haunts the mountain path to-day ; Her gladness on this upland lingers on, And not a gentian cup nor crocus star But shines more bright, because she passed this way. 104 Sonnets THE JUNGFRAU UNVEILED FROM WENGERN ALP Loud torrent voices bellowed through the mist, The Trumlenthal was filled with awe and sound. We almost felt the avalanche shake the ground, As downward through the cloud the ice-balls hissed ; Then, like a lover, lo ! the strong sun kissed His virgin-bride, the veil that clung around Was tenderly disparted, snowy-crowned Her glorious head to azure heights uprist. Even as I gazed the marvel seemed to grow, For on her breast a flowing scarf was seen. Fold upon fold translucently revealed, Part silver-frosted and part emerald-green, — I knew not which was fairer, crown of snow, Or that deep-wrinkled, wondrous glacier-field. 105 Sonnets THE ALPINE ROSE LITTLE SCHEIDEGG Thine is the rare, incomparable might To warm a nation's heart, and year by year For valley dweller and for mountaineer To bring new sense of summer and delight. June sees thee first upon the barren height With iron-rusted leaves, buds bronzed and sere. Then plump the petals, for the bells ring near, And sudden all thy plumes are flushed and bright. Brave rhododendron ! Bacchus never gave Such joy behind his thyrsias as is thine When thy small thyrsus-buds to beauty break ; When, filled with mountain glory as with wine, The village youths thy first fair cluster take And dance down-hill behind the rose-crowned stave. io6 Sonnets THE WARBLER'S SONG GRINDELWALD Come not in August when the slopes are green And Eiger's robe of ermine turns to grey, — Come rather when the orchards gleam with May, And later when the gold laburnum's screen Lets through the lilac's fragrance. Then is seen In poor men's gardens, either side the way. Lilies of scarlet for a king's array. And picris lights the fields with golden sheen. But not for fragrant flowers nor fear of scythe In June I seek the pleasant alder-groves. Where the dark Liitschine pours herself along : It is because the little warbler loves To tell in June how hearts should all be blithe And fill the valley with exuberant song. 107 Sonnets AT THE UPPER GLACIER, GRINDELWALD I FELT upon my brow the bitter breath Of irresistible woe for far and wide, When o'er me hung the grey-green glacier-tide That seemed to threaten all the plain beneath ; But as with awe the ice-cold wings of death Fanned the soft air, I suddenly espied, Full in the torrent track, with fearless pride, The seedling sprang, and bloomed the cystus-wreath. Then I bethought me how these brave things knew How all the weight of desolation hung There, on the dark cliff's shoulders, once had been But tender mist that made the valleys green, Dawn's lightest exhalation, and the dew That feeds the flowers and keeps the pastures young. 1 08 Sonnets A RETURN TO ST. BEATENBERG Once more the crags of Niederhorn we greet, And face to face the snowy giants rise ; Once more the lake a hundred thousand dyes Of peacock-green is stretched beneath our feet. There sits the young wood-carver in his seat ; Fresh from the block, and with the same surprise, The chamois gazes ; here the goatboy hies. And there the milkman that we used to meet. Thrice happy hill ! the same far cuckoo calls, The same shrill cricket chirps his noontide cheer. The same light gleams on yonder water's breast — The only change beneath your sheltering walls Are these tired hearts that hither come for rest. To find the balm of constant friendship here. 109 Sonnets HOTEL DE LA POSTE, 1890 ST. BEATENBERG High perched among the chalets on the steep, And fenced from all the northern winds that blow, It seemed high heaven's tranquillity to know, To feel the calm of emerald waters deep, And breathe the dark fir-forests' fragrant sleep ; In front, those three great giant kings of snow Sat throned, until for robes of roseate glow Night gave them starry diadems to keep. At morn the goat-bells woke the house with cheer. At noon the crickets chirped with merry mind. While old men rested in the bowery shade ; There was no hostel all the upland near That seemed so well for weary mortals made. So happy, simple-hearted, homely, kind. no Sonnets THE VISION OF KINGS ST. BEATENBERG The daylight fell, and vast o'ershadowings Filled with their purple dark the valleys under, When swift as thought Heaven's veil was rent asunder, And gave us vision of the mountain kings ; Their thrones — carved ivory, unsubstantial things. Such as men only dream of — seemed a wonder Of palpitating fire, and grey with thunder A huge cloud bore them up on plumy wings. Then forth on Eiger's topmost peak out-stepped The full orbed moon, and swift away she drew Death-pale — her envy could not brook the sight, For while beneath her feet earth's darkness crept, These mountain kings in power and glory grew To stay the sun, and to delay the night. Ill Sonnets AFTERGLOW ON THE ABENDBERG The day had been a day of clouds that lower — Such days as Cumbrian shepherds only know — No sun, no moon, when sudden from below O'er the still lake the sunset smote with power, And the grey wrinkled cliff gave back the dower Of such transcendent magic afterglow As made one long with shallop-oars to row. And share the radiance of its rosy shower. So have I seen upon an aged face Storm-wrinkled, gazing from its height of peace O'er the calm deeps of Death that lie before. At sunset-time, a sudden wondrous grace That made me yearn to reach the further shore. And share their joy whose light can never cease. 112 Sonnets A GLIMPSE OF THE JUNGFRAU ST. BEATENBERG As one in sorrow, mourning for his bride, Sees through his cloud of winter-grief arise The well-loved form with summer in her eyes, And dreams again he views her in her pride Of snowy-pure apparel at his side, And feels, in sooth, too happy for surprise. Till the form fades, the dream of beauty dies, And he mourns on with soul unsatisfied, — So, after days of darkness, did it seem, Suddenly splendid out of middle Heaven The Maiden Mount that is the bride of dawn Showed snowy pure, as swift to be withdrawn — I well-nigh wished the clouds had never given The glory of that dissoluble dream. "3 Sonnets IN BUTTERFLY-LAND ST. BEATENBERG It seemed as if all butterflies that flew, By some attractive fragrance in the air Too subtle for man's finding, settled there ; The scarlet-ounced Apollo came to view His mate more beauteous in her bridal hue ; Thither fritillaries floated large and fair Like burnished bronze, and wings shone every- where. That made the grass to blossom violet-blue. And thither golden-green the beetles came, With fragile things of emerald gauze and light, That rested till some sudden ecstasy Caught them and cast them sunward ; — ah ! thought I, These all are lovers, followers of one flame. Their day how brief, how glad, they fear no night ! 114 Sonnets IN CRICKET-LAND FROM ST. BEATENBERG TO INTERLAKEN On that beguiling forest-road that leads The upland shepherd to the mid-lake town, Rapt by the double view, I sat me down Where Oberland's three glorious mountain-heads Shone snowy white among the firs ; thence meads Sloped to a sapphire flood with clilFs grey-brown Beside the hermit's cavern, and grass unmown Was flecked with daisies, hawkweed, sorrel-seeds. And there was wondrous chirping in the grass. And every living emerald that had wings, And every idle creature that had breath Seemed there in gay processional to pass. Saying, ' In Heaven above, on earth beneath, The gladdest place is where the cricket sings.' "5 Sonnets THE GENTIANELLA {GENTIAN A VERNA) ST. BEATENBERG Upon that ' Hill of him God blessed ' all dew Leapt into varied blossom, all the light Took living form and colour infinite ; But 'mid the multitude of flowers that grew I noted one of most ethereal hue, Of starry form and dazzling to the sight. So full of blue as just to need the white, And white enough to make one feel the blue. It was a flower the chalet children call ' Heaven's-bloom ' ; no scent of fragrant breath it had, But to its starry petals there was given The quintessential radiance sucked from all Blue skies and lakes that ever made earth glad — It seemed, in truth, a messenger from Heaven ! Ii6 Sonnets AFTER A STORM AT KANZELI ST. BEATENBERG Beneath high Kanzeli's towers of silver-grey We saw the sudden rainbow like a wreath Of softest filmy blossom, flung beneath, And colour flashed from every diamond spray. We cried — ' Has earth more heavenly-born display To call the wanderer upward ? can the breath Of storm a show more prodigal bequeath To ease this wild, impracticable way ? ' For ne'er on lawns of gladder green and gold Gleamed the bronze huts above us on the height. Nor lovelier through dim veils of sapphire mist Rose rampart walls of gleaming amethyst, Nor sweetlier leapt the valleys back to light, Nor swiftlier were the gates of Heaven unrolled. 117 Sonnets A SERMON IN THE CHURCH AT ST. BEATENBERG They sat with withered cheeks on withered hands, O'er wrinkled brows the dark lace-veiling fell, With reverent gaze they heard the preacher tell In simple words God's love and God's commands. Weary with toil upon their stubborn lands, They learned that where the blessed ones shall dwell Are living waters from a springing well, Where alway Christ the Water-giver stands. To willing ears the parable went home, Willing as his to whom was promise given, ' This day shalt thou find rest in Paradise,' And I could see that tears were in their eyes To think a day of rest should ever come When they should drink the painless streams of Heaven. ii8 Sonnets AT KANZELI ABOVE ST. BEATENBERG Lord, what a pulpit is this seat of Thine ! Here canst Thou speak a word to every nation, Bidding them bring a soul of adoration. And cast their hearts in worship at Thy shrine. But if they come not, snowy mountains shine, Blue lake and sky and wondrous vegetation. These give Thee glory, and for congregation Thou hast Thy silent multitude of pine. These hear and these obey Thee ; mortal men Hearing obey not ; ceaselessly the fountains Sing to Thee psalms, the forest claps its hands, The cattle roving in their tinkling bands Chime to the chorus, and from far-oiF mountains The falling avalanche thunders an Amen. 119 Sonnets THE BIRENFLUH ST. BEATENBERG I NEVER pass this towery, bastioned hill, That looks upon the hollow gorge, where flow The sounding streams of Gemtnenalphorn'ssnow To bless the vale and turn the water-mill, Without a thought how patient and how still Stand the dark firs in their embattled row Of ceaseless watch — how stubbornly they grow, What soldier bearing, what enduring will ! The drums of Heaven for battle roll afar. The storm-winds blow their trumpets, and the stream Leaps its fierce horses foaming from the steep ; But these dark sentinels — they only seem With closer front a sterner guard to keep. Sworn to obey one Lord in peace and war. 120 Sonnets AT AMISBUHL ST. BEATENBERG Oft in the dreary flats of common care, Fordone by heat of work and cloud of pain, The hills I climbed, I climb in thought again. And feel wide sim and breathe calm crystal air. Below me lies some lake of azure fair Dappled by cloud, or grey with drift of rain. Snows shine above a mountain-girdled plain. And white falls flash with rainbows in their hair. Then while the castled town asleep is laid, On Rabenfluh I breathe the pine-tree balm, Or when the mid-mere valley in the heat Is throbbing, rest on Heimweh's woody seat, Or here while Abendberg is gathering shade Feel Amisbuhl's incomparable calm. 121 Sonnets COWBELLS ON THE RISCHEREN ALP AMISBUHL, BEATENBERG High o'er the plain where Aar's green waters make A girdle of perpetual hyaline, When bees are murmuring at the cups of wine The plane-flowers bring them, oft my rest I take. Lulled by that sound which cures all ears that ache, Sound of the bells with which the feeding kine Charm the soft air to assonance divine, And far and near their blessed joyaunce shake. Lo ! as I listen, words of peace and strife. Of joy, of calm, of labour, and of prayer Run to harmonious concord ; I can tell Here chinks the forge, the bugle echoes there. Here sounds the band, glad peals for man and wife Ring, and for praise the deep cathedral bell. 122 Sonnets DOWN THE LAKE TO THUN We heard the holy hermit's sounding rill, Passed Spietz's castle-cluster, snowy-white Against the purple Niesen, caught the light, — Gleam after rain — on craggy Sygriswyl, We scented Gonten's laurels, gazed our fill At towery Oberhofen, full in sight Of Bliimlis' snowy splendour saw the night Of storm round Stockhorn, felt the thunder's thrill. But not till Aar between its brakes and bowers Bare us with rapturous haste toward the town. And terraced roofs and church and castle-hold From heights of quiet graciousness looked down. We knew old Thun's hereditary power To charm us with the life of centuries old. 123 Sonnets AT THE CHURCH GATE, OBERHOFEN Beneath their open canopy of brown The bells had ceased to call to morning prayer, And climbing up the Oberhofen stair. There in the churchyard court I sat me down. The preacher passing eyed me with a frown, ' Why linger, friend ? — the faithful enter there.' I answered, ' Here the blackbird's hymn is rare. These chestnut flowers might weave an angel's crown ! ' For all the bees that ever hummed above Had made within that leafy choir of shade An organ murmuring out an anthem's tone ; The pastor preached, the people sang and prayed, I felt with bees that prayer and work were one, With flower and bird that praise is life and love. 124 Sonnets IN THE BAUMGARTEN AT THUN Green sapphire rolls the Aar beneath our feet, And pine-clad Griisisberg, where ravens call, Rises behind, a sheltering mountain-wall ; Tall poplars gird us ; from the garden-seat We hear all birds that ever made air sweet Sing through the day ; all flowers are ours, and all Delicious orchard-scents upon us fall. And butterflies float in on our retreat With noiseless beauty ; lizards bask and run, A fountain flashes silver ; o'er our rest The red-roofed Castle of the Counts of Thun Looks down to give protection to the guest, And, through the pear-trees snow-white in the sun, A church-bell chimes to bid each hour be blest. 125 Sonnets THE TOMBSTONE OF HEINRICH VON STRATTLINGEN, THE BARD IN THE BACHIHOLZI, THUN Here lies the knighdy bard ; his head is bare, His feet are on the lion, and his shield Shows the barbed arrow ; gauntleted and steeled, His hands are closed and lifted as in prayer : So during life was reverence his care, So to the beast in man he would not yield. But Orpheus-like he tamed him, so a-field Honour he won with his song-arrows rare. Still, in the old-world singer's sure retreat. Where lake, and lawn, and snowy height combined Rouse dullest hearts to passion, thought is sweet. We feel the breathings of a master mind. Death drove the Poet from his garden-seat, But left the soul of all his song behind. See Appendix. 126 Sonnets ON THE INSCRIPTION OVER THE DOORWAY OF THE OLD SGHLOSS AT THE BAUMGARTEN, THUN ' INVENI PORTUM, SPES ET FORTUNA VALETE ' ' Harbour at last ! hope, fortune, fare ye well ! ' For I am tired of wandering, and the star By which I steered in quest of hope afar Has set, the waves at morn with ceaseless swell Sank not, but rose to storm as night-time fell. And beating landwards, where the quicksands are, I for the pilot call across the bar, And steer towards the haven-citadel. Yet neither song of bird in May tide bow^r, Nor blossoming orchard, nor rich lilac scent, Nor gold laburnum dropping at the door. Can soothe my soul with such prevailing power As finding here what poorest of the poor May feel — the joy of heaven and earth — Content. 127 Sonnets AT THE MINNESINGER'S SEAT ABOVE CHARTREUSE THUN We may not watch thee sitting in the shade In front of Bliimlis and its purple shore, Far-seeing fancy cannot quite restore The knightly form that here his ballads madej Yet, Minnesinger ! mightily to aid Come the sweet presences that came of yore, The merry cricket chirping at his door. The gossamer rainbows flashed from blade to blade. One sweeter presence in this beechen grove You left, we hear it in the cuckoo's call, We see her bending o'er the blackbird's nest, The flowers come with her still for festival. She is a form more beauteous than the rest. Where all is beauty, and her name is Love ! 128 Sonnets IN THUN CHURCHYARD AT SERVICE-TIME Friends ! I a dead man laid upon this hill : If I could hear the great bell's hollow sound Call to the town that Sabbath had come round, Then feet move near, then silence deep, until The anthem floated o'er me and the thrill Of that sweet blackbird touched me in my swound, I should leap forth with joyance from the ground And join the congregation with good will. For in this grave there is no voice of praise, No hint of melody, no hope of song ; The heart is dust, lips dry, and ears are dull ; While yonder hills to which your eyes ye raise — Yon brimming river blue and beautiful. From height to depth man's hymn of praise prolong. 129 Sonnets AT THE CASTLE, THUN I — SITTING here above the quiet town, Whose only voice was gently murmuring Aar, While near, the sweet narcissus with its star Shone through the shade, and tulip-banners flown Marshalled the flowers — heard sudden trumpets blown, Saw men from forth the turrets gaze afar, Felt once again the dreadfulness of war. And heard the stern portcullis rattle down. But at a voice the vision seemed to cease, A child laughed out, a mother at her door Talked to her babe, then left it in the sun To tend her flowers, — the time had sure begun When God should give earth's castles to the poor. To plant their walls with happiness and peace. 130 Sonnets ON FINDING A SWIFT IN THE CASTLE PRISON AT THUN You of the soft grey throat and ebon wing, Was it the soul of sympathy and grace For these poor mortals in their piteous case, That thus aside your freedom you dared fling, Your joy of flight beyond imagining — ' Gave up the fierce excitement of your race, And lonely in this lamentable place, Here to dumb walls a speechless prisoner cling ? Or have you come into this hall of doom With message of a wider Heaven above, From Him who only breaks the prison bars, On solid earth or in the trembling stars, For all whose feet are set in narrow room, Who gives us freedom when He grants us Love ? 131 Sonnets AT THE RABENFLUH THUN God sent them sun, and since they loved the light Straight up for Heaven obediently they grew ; God sent them storm, and, tried in every thew, Yea, even w^ith pain, they waxed by day and night. And there they stood broad-based upon the height, A silent, uncommunicative crew. Till the clouds gathered and the lightning flew, Then all sang loud together in their might. And wandering through that solemn-hearted wood, As in some vast cathedral, on the hill, I heard soft organ music, angel speech. Saying, ' Thrice blest is human brotherhood. Where each unjealous seeks the sun, and each Strong for the storm can commune or be still.' 132 Sonnets AT THE SCHWABIS THUN Beyond the walls that Berchtold's chivalry Built up against Burgundian hate and pride, Rolls the blue Aar in swift impetuous tide To meet all foes with exultation free ; And whosoe'er its careless strength may see Takes heart, and ceases to be satisfied With his world's narrow limit, goes outside His city walls against all foes that be. Sure of its course, the river, rolled along, Slides down, and shakes its thousand plumes of snow, And curved to sapphire, thunders at the fall : So the brave heart beyond the city wall. If but life's continuity it know — Its whence, its whither — falls, but still is strong. 133 Sonnets THE GOLDEN STAR OF THUN Brave little town ! the rushing stream that makes Its murmur round thine island-homes, from far Brings echo of the elements of war, Crashing of avalanche, roar of ice that breaks Beneath the arrows of the sun, who shakes Whole mountains into nothing ; but thy star That shines on castle-steep and rolling Aar, From red-hot streams of blood its glory takes. And still in memory of the days when Thun Broke the Burgundian host and made it reel, Upon thy plains we hear the echoing gun. We watch the squadrons march, the horses wheel, And see each week thy lads together run To hurl the horn-winged bolt from bows of steel. See Appendix, 134 Sonnets THE STOCKHORN DEO CREATORI This is the purple throne whereon the day First takes her seat and latest leaves her crown, And when she lays her rosy mantle down, Here first with starry sceptre night holds sway. Snow-clad, or in the ermine of the May, Its splendour haunts the valley and the town. Whether beneath the thunder-clouds it frown. Or in the summer sun shines silver-gray. But on this day of glory and of love. When smiles the plain beneath the mountain- walls, And laughs blue lake and blossoming river- shore. One sitteth on the throne all kings above. Who raised the Stockhorn, and for ever calls The heart of man to honour and adore. Sonnets THE JUDGMENT PICTURE AT ADELBODEN In that high vale where winter stays too long Kept by the hills' encircling rampart wall, Mist-hidden ever moaned the waterfall ; No cowbell chimed, I heard no sweet bird's song : From mountains wreathed with storm, a ghastly throng J Into a boiling caldron seemed to fall. And clouds, like souls in pain that could not call, Writhed in and out the darkened pines among. I could not wonder by the church's door. Beneath the great age-blasted sycamore, Man should have set the terrible Day of Doom, — For how can hearts in utter sunlessness Believe a fuller light will heal and bless. And Love shall shioe beyond the Judgment gloom ? 136 Sonnets THE VILLAGE DANCE AT ADELBODEN A SAD FACE It was the ending of the Sabbath Day — God's gift to man of restfulness and cheer — And glad from all the village chalets near Met men and maids. All hearts but one were gay : The players played, the dancers danced away, To-morrow to the Alp for half a year The lovers go, the loved ones linger here. And many a swain some last fond word will say. There in the village inn's low-ceiled room The feet incessant beat the earthen floor ; Some sang an unpremeditated strain. But one sad face sat silent in the gloom — She could not meet to-night her love again. He would not seek at morn the upland moor. 137 Sonnets THE BEAR HOTEL KANDERSTEG At foot of that gigantic mountain stair, Straight to thy threshold all the paths incline, And thou with song of waters, scent of pine, Canst ease poor wandering mortals of their care. With kind arms right across the path, and air Of courteous greeting, generous design. What homely hospitalities are thine, What chance to welcome angels unaware ! Type of the wise and good, to whom is given The glory of a sure-appointed place. For help to others o'er the desolate hills. Who greet us with unutterable grace, Comfort the weary, and confirm the wills Of those whose souls still hesitate for Heaven. '38 Sonnets IN GASTERN-THAL KANDERSTEG Stunned by the fierce, reverberating sound Of Kander roaring through his rocky walls With thunder of ten thousand waterfalls, I passed to wondrous quietude, and found Where Rest had girt his mountains all around ; There the streams speak not, and the sun that calls The noiseless shadows from their saffron halls. All day shines silent on the meadowy ground. And in the midst, by some earth-giant hurled, A ' stone of help ' for Thought, the preacher stands, He cries aloud to bid men come apart, And they who listen lose the troubled heart — They never quite come back into the world. Or if they come, Peace holds them by the hands. 139 Sonnets ON THE GEMMI ROAD ABOVE GASTERN-THAL The song was heard, the singer he was hid, As there I listened to the organ-tone, Where the ten thousand waters joined in one With joyful chorus down to Gastern slid ; O how their Hallelujahs shamed and chid My songless heart ! when that great glory shone, Like to His face that none may look upon, The sunlit snow of Altel's pyramid. But as I listened to that mellow flood, I felt my soul with ecstasy new born, And heard a voice from Heaven, which seemed to say, For praise arose the mighty Doldenhorn, For praise the vale was hollowed on the day God gazed upon the work and called it good. 140 Sonnets WAYFARERS ON THE GEMMI IN THE ALP-SPITAL-MATTE I MET a traveller in a desert place : I said, ' I speak because I am a man ; These circling cliiFs are dumb since time began, They stand for ever speechless face to face — Yea, even the torrent hushes in this place ; Noiseless as air yon startled chamois ran. These flowrers about our feet live out their span, Then die into the ground, a silent race.' And so we stood and communed for a while. He from the Rhone, and I from Kander come ; We shall not meet until that other land, But I remember how he grasped my hand. How sad eyes flashed, and wan lips seemed to smile To hear again the accents of his home. 141 Sonnets BLANC-SEE AND DAUBENSEE GEMMI There is a pool whose waters would beguile Men to dive down, yea, even till they die, In liquid depths of lapis lazuli, With coral wonders and with rainbow wile ; Not far from thence a lake that cannot smile, A hungry lake with livid lips doth lie, With face death-pale beneath the sunniest sky, And glance as cruel as a crocodile. Death ! Death ! or coming swift, or coming slow, Come not with sweet, delicious guise of cheer. With rainbow hope of mere escape from ill ; Rather with barrenness and wreathed snow, That tells the summit of the pass is near, And the great vision soon shall life fulfil. 142 Sonnets AT THE SIGN OF THE WILDSTRUBEL ON THE GEMMI They had the hearts of eagles, they who dared On this tremendous precipice to build. What muttering thunder meant, what lightning willed. They knew ; the winds with them their secrets shared. Their souls were more than mortal, and they cared For more than mortal vision ; here they filled Their hearts with peace, where all man's noise is stilled. Their eyes with revelations God-declared. And here they dwelt, good angels of the steep. Between the evening and the morning light That flushes all the Pennine peaks with rose ; Large-hearted givers of rest and food and sleep. With words of comfortable cheer for those Who through dumb solitudes have climbed the height. 143 Sonnets THE DAUBENHORN CLIFFS OVER THE GEMMI How the bones grew to frame our daedal earth, When in the womb of Ocean and old Time These hills were fashioned, how a furious prime Of tidal deluge carved this headland firth — This is thy message, — not the conjurer's mirth That mocks the merry shepherds as they climb Up the steep zigzags, with false echo's chime : Thine is the mystery of the mountain's birth. And we who dare descend the Daubenhorn Like goats, by perilous path and jutting edge, Round bastion-walls that fail beneath our feet, May scare the eagle from his mountain ledge ; We cannot move from her imperial seat The awful secret of Creation's morn. 144 Sonnets GOING TO ZERMATT We leave the dusty vines, the poplared plain, And, prisoners to the imperious god of steam, Pant up the vale that changes as in dream. Climb slowf the iron stairw^ay, in our pain Groan through the gorges, shriek and plunge amain Through rock, o'er river j now well-nigh we seem To hang in air, and feel the milk-white stream Breathe in our face, as onward still we strain, St. Nikolas' silver-turbaned spire is passed. Above our heads strange snowy summits peep. And glaciers frown from ofF their mountain walls ; Still upward irresistibly we creep. Till, with a sudden glory that appals. The Matterhorn leaps high — Zermatt at last ! H5 Sonnets THE MATTERHORN When through the huts, by sun and frost embrowned, — Those square toy-boxes for some giant's play — Where Zermatt shepherds lie, I took my way, And still the Triftbach followed me with sound. Suddenly face to face from out the ground Sprang into middle heaven, grim and gray. The Matterhorn's huge spire, which seemed to say, I am the Alps' avenger, and I wound. But the huge falchion shone so gaily bright. And from its hilt streamed forth so soft a cloud To fling its rosy banner far beneath, I heard no sound of women wailing loud Because on hearth and home had fallen the night, Nor that fierce mountain's trumpet-note of death. 14.6 Sonnets THE CHAPEL OF OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS By the dark lake beside sad Hornli laid There stands a little solitary shrine, Raised by rude hands of men who tend the kine, In simple love laboriously made ; And there the herdsman may implore the aid Of Her whose presence pure as snow can shine, Infrequent priests may ofFer rites divine, And pilgrim prayers and litanies be said. Thereover Cervin casts a shadow prone, And thither, overshadowed by great loss, The heart that in its silence pain must bear May come, and feel uplifted by the cross. Know in the wilderness a Saviour near, And in the desert dare to be alone. 147 Sonnets HOTEL DU PARC ET DES BELLES FLEURS LAC DE CHAN, MONTANA We left the vale where Rhone's grey waters flow, Past sun-baked mounds and ruined castle halls. Hot cliiFs scored deep with waterless waterfalls, And striped with burning harvest far below, Up through the dusty vineyards, toiling slow. Up through the forest where no songbird calls. Up till the Weisshorn over mountain walls Gleamed, and Valaisian Alps shone all aglow ; And there we found fair meadows dewy cool, A rolling park where stately fir-trees stand, Music in storm, and fragrance in the heat ; Where lilies lit the lawn and starred the pool, And every flower that blooms in Switzerland Seemed to fling jewels at the wanderer's feet. 148 Sonnets GOING TO NETTLESHIP'S GRAVE FROM ARGENTIERE TO CHAMOUNIX, BY NIGHT I NEED no surer, sympathetic guide, Than this loud stream with waters icy cold, Down with perpetual thunder darkly rolled. Beneath a starless heaven at my side — For somewhere in this valley, he who died, Caught by the sudden snow-blast's withering hold, Lies beyond storm in quiet churchyard mould, Beneath the heights he climbed, dear friend, well tried. Flow on, pale Arve, with lamentation flow ! Joined with thy gray-haired sister of the snow, Make double moan and fill the air with sorrow : I have no heart nor care to lift mine eyes To find the sunlit glacier's glad surprise. Or face the mountain splendours of to-morrow. 149 Sonnets TO R. L. NETTLESHIP IN CHAMOUNIX CHURCHYARD If you should be awakened from your sleep, Here in this snow-crowned, mountain-girdled vale. Such sounds should greet your ear as could not fail To lull you back into a slumber deep : The chime of waters falling from the steep. The bells that clang towards the milking-pail. Murmur of bees and song of nightingale, Where through the copse those sister rivers sweep. But if one voice should mingle with the sound — A voice you knew in college days of old — Crying, ' Come back, fulfil your earthly span ! ' I know your words would leap from underground, And say, ' God hath His helpers manifold. Their hands shall finish what my heart began.' See Appendix, 150 Sonnets VIOLAS ON THE COL DE BALME When under Jaman's peak I sudden found The slopes with white narcissus overspread, No lovelier carpet for the Spring, I said. Was ever laid on any mountain ground. I did not know what charm the cowbell's sound On Col de Balme for her imperial tread Could work, to wake the rock-rose in its bed, Or stir the violet from its winter swound. For here when May is hand in hand with June, And the shy soldanella shrinks away. The fragrant earth shines purple, mixed with gold; The oldest heart would quicken and be gay, The saddest voice would sing again in tune, Such garniture of glory to behold ! 151 Sonnets MOONLIGHT AT PENSION REITZEL LEYSIN Beside the sloping road that curves and shines, A silver serpent on from field to field, There stands a chalet, wrhere all wroes are healed That need the sunlight, and wrhen day declines And the rose gleam of eve incarnadines The peak of Chamossaire, there is unsealed A dewfy balm Arabia could not yield. Breathed from the fragrant multitude of pines. Sweet house of health for w^eary mortals planned, What vsritchery haunts thee, when the purple vale Is filled with shadow by Rionda thrown. And we behold in some enchanted land Of magic gleam, the Dent du Midi pale — A phantom presence o'er the moonlit Rhone. 152 Sonnets A FEAR FOR LEYSIN THE BUILDING OF THE CASINO Close round its silver spire the village cowers, Each brow^n house spreads its wrings as if it heard The cry in heaven from some gigantic bird, Told of in old Arabian midnight hours ; Yet all was sun, from Dent du Midi's towers To those high pines no other voices stirred Than the grey cricket chirring, as he chirred Last year, among his groves of innocent flowers. But as I gazed, up rose the purple dome Of some huge pleasure-palace idly planned, To dull the sense of time with dice and gold ; I felt the fear for every cottage home, When indolence should poisonous wealth command, And Leysin lose the simple life of old. 153 Sonnets UP LA RIONDA LEYSIN Up through the pines with rosy fruitage set, Through air made fragrant with the dust of gold I climbed, that world of wonder to behold : Southward, in bluest air that knew no fret, The Dent du Midi's snow-plumed coronet Shone peaceful, valleys purpled fold on fold, Whilst north, the Rhone by town and tower was rolled Till lake and stream in one great glory met. Eyes ne'er had seen such beauteous mountain state, Vale after vale by fancy was explored, Height after height to rapturous gaze was given, But my sad heart was at the river gate. Where Rhone with all her valley's splendour poured To lose her sorrow in a tranquil Heaven. 15+ Sonnets TWILIGHT AT LA PRAFONDAZ LEYSIN Come not at morn, when beautiful and bare, Rose-pink with all her meadows, all her vines, The Dent du Midi's marvellous splendour shines, Nor when on La Rionda's rocky stair The noon with flowers and butterflies is fair, — Come rather when the lingering day declines. And the grey mist is breathed from out the pines. And one star lights the dewy-purple air. Then say if earth from any mountain steep Can soothe with gentler calm the troubled breast. Or bring to aching hearts a surer boon, When vale and hill and river seem asleep, And to far shores of blissfulness and rest The long lake gleams beneath a rising moon. 155 Sonnets HOME THOUGHTS AT SUNSET FROM PRAFONDAZ, LEYSIN From Dent du Midi fades her roseate hue, Leman's rare witchery can no more prolong The mirrored daylight ; pale Rhone moves among Dim fields and mountain walls of solid blue ; The last sweet bird is silent, but for you The thrush shall fill another hour with song ; The sun with you is shining, here a throng Of angel presences, the stars, peep through. The lingering glory of the sunset bars O'er Jura's range has passed upon its way, But brightens over England : which were best, Eyes held on Earth by still unended day. Or hearts caught up to commune with the stars — A longer waking, or an earlier rest ? 156 Sonnets ALPINE ANEMONE-SEED LEYSIN In latest June, when giant gentians bold Unhood themselves and break to sudden flower, Manning the galleries of each sturdy tower With safFron-starry shields and spikes of gold, I wandering found a wonder to behold, A tufted thing that wove a silken bower For fairies, frightened by a summer shower, Or tender sprites that feared the dewy cold. Anon it seemed a humming-bird's soft nest, Anon a living sea-flower, such as grow In tropic waters when the waves are still ; I knew not, in its silken seed-coat drest. The May's most lovely daughter of the hill, The wind-flower with its petals white as snow. 157 Sonnets THE MORNING PLAY AT VILLARS Here in this amphitheatre of wood, Upon the sloping stage of flowery land. Where the dark firs like hushed spectators stand, Each morn, with night-time's starry interlude, A drama is enacted. — First a flood Of roselight fills the west, then gaunt and grand The Muveran reaches out a shadowy hand. The Dent du Midi feels her brotherhood Of snowy peaks enkindled : then she shines. Takes her gold crown and drops her veil of gray. And while the villages from forth the mist Sparkle to life, Val D'lllier through her vines Draws sunlight mixed with purple amethyst, As loud with music Dawn begins the play. 158 >:ionneis ON CHAMOSSAIRE Mist wrapped the Jura, like an ocean bay The gray lake waters rippled into light; Northward the sun smote Leysin's towering height. And south Mont Blanc in snowy splendour lay ; Beyond a sea of mountain blue and gray The Weisshorn rose, the Bernese peaks were bright, And drawing purple glory, golden light, From every vale, the long Rhone held its way. Soul, thou must climb the hills, drink upper air, Stand near to Heaven, or thou canst never know What towering presences around thee wait. More than the labourer in the plain below, Whose eyes have never seen what mountain state The Dawn reveals on grassy Chamossaire. 1 59 Sonnets IN THE DUNGEON AT CHILLON I PASSED through Chillon's heavy prison door — For those who entered there all hope was vain ; The air was pale with centuries of pain, The light lay ghastly green on vault and floor. Methought men wan, and, save for patience, poor, At every pitiless pillar clanked a chain. Paced their one step, and then repaced again, And so to softness even hard earth wore. What hand, I cried, can give these liberty ? Guides led me to a dark, unvaulted room. Showed me in living rock a bed aslope. And o'er, a rafter and a swaying rope : Here did they sleep the night before their doom, And they slept well, for Death would set them free. 1 60 Sonnets AT WEISSENSTEIN SOLEURE Here, at the high-built, hospitable grange. Grey with long years, and, as the old are, kind. There is such health in every passing wind. We feel new powers of life, invigorate, strange ; Our eyes look out with more than mortal range Over blue miles of fruitfulness, and find Eden fresh-breathed from the Almighty mind. With that old serpent going through his change. Then as from coiling Aar our gaze is caught To those far hills of pure unearthly glory That lean upon the lilac, cloud-built wall. We seem to hear again the old-world story Of Paradise, the Serpent, and the Fall, And Heaven's new Eden lovelier than all thought. i6i Sonnets SWITZERLAND, FAREWELL ! Farewell the Schreckhorn's silver spires ! Farewell The Blumlis' domes and pinnacles of snow ! By vine-clad Spietz and Gonten's lawns we go, We leave behind Thun's ancient citadel, Sun-bright against its pines ; but still the spell Of emerald Aar will follow with its flow. And still to backward gaze, with flush aglow The Oberland its evening tale will tell. Others may climb the peaks high-crowned with flowers, — Blue gentian, sulphur-pale anemone. For other eyes the alpine-rose may shine, Others may hear the music of the kine, The thunder of the glacier's breaking sea, — Remembrance ineffaceable is ours. 162 Sonnets HOME FROM LOMBARDY Better grey lakes, grey mountain, and grey skies. With song of water- brooks and sound of rain, Than that immeasurable Lombard plain — For all its vines and corn and mulberries — Sunburnt to silence : with what sweet surprise The mellow ouzel greets us once again ! Clear and familiar from the springing grain, With what a sense of home the corncrake cries ! But not the cry of crake, nor throstle's tune, Nor daisied fields, nor plumy laurel-bowers That gleam snow-white at evening's long-lit close. So made me sure of Cumberland and June, As Crosthwaite lanes full-breathed of elder-flowers. And hedges broidered over with wild rose. 163 APPENDIX Page i6.— The inscription at Ob-Burgen Church reads as follows : — ' To the pious and learned Town Councillor and Bailiff of the Chapel, Joseph Francis Fluher of Wyden von Obbergen, who, on the gth of September 1798, at the first attack of the French, saved this church, on his knees, from being burned ; but who, at the second attack, was shot, with his repeated interces- sions unheard, and was buried above the Inn.' Page 37. — Frocinus the second Abbot was a remarkable scholar, and specimens of his laborious handiwork by way of transcript and mss. still are preserved in the library of the Monastery. Page 4.7. — The people of Val Leventina revolted in 1755 against the tyranny of the cowherds of Uri, to whom they had been subject since the fifteenth century. The rebellion was terminated at this spot by the execution of the ringleaders, whose heads were fastened to the trunks of the chestnut-trees near, in the presence of three thousand men of the valley. Page 53. — The Borromean crest has for motto the word ' Humilitas.' Page 59. — At the porch of the old Church of Baveno a Roman altar has been built into the wall with a dedication to Diana, Julia, and Tarpeia : the same wall has been painted over 165 Sonnets in Byzantine times with a large fresco of Christ, now hardly distinguishable. Page 6o. — The top of Monte Motterone is the scene of the meeting of Mazzini and leaders of Italian Unity, in George Meredith's novel Vittorla. In digging the foundation of the hotel on the ridge of the mountain, an axe, a spear, a horse-shoe and a key were found in what must have been some chieftain's grave. Page 63. — Bernardino Caimi on his return from the Holy Land in 1491 founded the Sacro Monte at Varallo. St. Carlo Borromeo seems to have refounded it in 1678: his skull is pointed at within an iron grating near the Holy Sepulchre. Gaudenzio Ferrari, the famous Val-Sesian painter, born about 1 4.84, appears to have painted with fresco many of the chapels on the Sacro Monte between the years 1524. and 1528. Page 71. — At midnight of May 31, 1894, by international consent, Italy, Switzerland, and Austria put all their clocks forward thirty minutes, and took a Mid-Europe standard time. Page 77. — Pliny in his famous rescript to Trajan describes the new Christianity, which is the subject of his letter, as 'a harmless superstition doomed to die.' Page 80. — On the 4th December 1804, General Macdonald made a desperate passage of the Splugen to cover the flank of the Italian army : whole regiments were swept away by the avalanche, but he accomplished his endeavour. Travellers over the Splugen will note the little iron monumental crosses that record the death of workmen who perished in the making of the road. Page 91. — In May of 1893, at Lauterbrunnen, I met Ulrich Lauener, a last survivor of his contemporaries, the famous band 166 Appendix of Oberland guides. Himself the first to stand on the summit of the Weisshorn, Dent-Blanche, Rothhorn, and Grand Cornier, he was guide to Professor Tyndall and other of the most daring climbers in the middle of this century. Now an old man of 72, erect, but stiff and much troubled with rheumatism, his dim eyes lit up as he talked of the ascents he had made. Even as late as last summer he had ascended the Jungfrau. 'I was ever a careful man, far-sighted,' he said, ' and in all my climbing, thank God, never met with accident.' 'Farewell, Ulrich,' said my friend, who had one time employed him as guide, ' we shall meet again.' — 'On earth no more, sir,' answered Ulrich solemnly, ' perchance in Heaven.' Page 126. — In a wood near Thun, called the Bachiholzi, within sight of the Chartreuse, which it is believed that the poet built in the thirteenth century, lies, beneath the shadow of an oak, the tombstone of Heinrich von Strattlingen, the bard. The knight is clad in mail ; he is bareheaded j his hands are raised in prayer ; his feet are on a lion, and an arrow is engraved upon his shield. Page 134. — The Golden Star of Thun was won as follows : — In the battle of Morat, 1476, the post of honour against the Burgundian nobles and Charles the Bold was held by the townsmen of Thun. In consequence of their valour on that occasion Berne offered the town ten years' exemption from taxes, or the privilege of changing their black star into gold on their banner and civic armorial bearings. They chose the latter. Page 150. — Richard Lewis Nettleship, Fellow of Balliol, perished in a snowstorm on Mont Blanc, August 25, 1892 (B. Jowett's College Sermons, p. 264). 167 Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty at tiie Edinburgh University Press BY THE SAME AUTHOR. VALETE AND OTHER POEMS, MACLEHOSE. BALLADS, LYRICS, AND BUCOLICS, MACMILLAN. IDYLLS AND LYRICS OF THE NILE, DAVID NUTT. SONNETS AT THE ENGLISH LAKES, LONGMANS. SONNETS ROUND THE COAST, SONNENSCHEIN. BALLADS OF BRAVE DEEDS DENT AND CO.