Selected Poems (81 page)

A wider space, an ornamented grave?

Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full as brave.

XLIX

In their baronial feuds and single fields,

What deeds of prowess unrecorded died!

435

And Love, which lent a blazon to their shields,

With emblems well devised by amorous pride,

Through all the mail of iron hearts would glide;

But still their flame was fierceness, and drew on

Keen contest and destruction near allied,

440

And many a tower for some fair mischief won,

Saw the discolour’d Rhine beneath its ruin run.

L

But Thou, exulting and abounding river!

Making their waves a blessing as they flow

Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever

445

Could man but leave thy bright creation so,

Nor its fair promise from the surface mow

With the sharp scythe of conflict, — then to see

Thy valley of sweet waters, were to know

Earth paved like Heaven; and to seem such to me,

450

Even now what wants thy stream? – that it should Lethe be.

LI

A thousand battles have assail’d thy banks,

But these and half their fame have pass’d away,

And Slaughter heap’d on high his weltering ranks;

Their very graves are gone, and what are they?

455

Thy tide wash’d down the blood of yesterday,

And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream

Glass’d with its dancing light the sunny ray;

But o’er the blacken’d memory’s blighting dream

Thy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as they seem.

LII

460

Thus Harold inly said, and pass’d along,

Yet not insensibly to all which here

Awoke the jocund birds to early song

In glens which might have made even exile dear:

Though on his brow were graven lines austere,

465

And tranquil sternness which had ta’en the plac

Of feelings fierier far but less severe,

Joy was not always absent from his face,

But o’er it in such scenes would steal with transient trace.

LIII

Nor was all love shut from him, though his days

470

Of passion had consumed themselves to dust.

It is in vain that we would coldly gaze

On such as smile upon us; the heart must

Leap kindly back to kindness, though disgust

Hath wean’d it from all worldlings: thus he felt,

475

For there was soft remembrance, and sweet trust

In one fond breast, to which his own would melt,

And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.

LIV

And he had learn’d to love, – I know not why,

For this in such as him seems strange of mood, –

480

The helpless looks of blooming infancy,

Even in its earliest nurture; what subdued,

To change like this, a mind so far imbued

With scorn of man, it little boots to know;

But thus it was; and though in solitude

485

Small power the nipp’d affections have to grow,

In him this glow’d when all beside had ceased to glow.

LV

And there was one soft breast, as hath been said,

Which unto his was bound by stronger ties

Than the church links withal; and, though unwed,

490

That
love was pure, and, far above disguise,

Had stood the test of mortal enmities

Still undivided, and cemented more

By peril, dreaded most in female eyes;

But this was firm, and from a foreign shore

495

Well to that heart might his these absent greetings pour!

I

The castled crag of Drachenfels
¹

Frowns o’er the wide and winding Rhine,

Whose breast of waters broadly swells

Between the banks which bear the vine,

500

And hills all rich with blossom’d trees,

And fields which promise corn and wine,

And scatter’d cities crowning these,

Whose far white walls along them shine,

Have strew’d a scene, which I should see

505

With double joy wert
thou
with me.

2

And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes,

And hands which offer early flowers,

Walk smiling o’er this paradise;

Above, the frequent feudal towers

510

Through green leaves lift their walls of gray;

And many a rock which steeply lowers

And noble arch in proud decay

Look o’er this vale of vintage-bowers

But one thing want these banks of Rhine, –

515

Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!

3

I send the lilies given to me;

Though long before thy hand they touch,

I know that they must wither’d be,

But yet reject them not as such;

520

For I have cherish’d them as dear,

Because they yet may meet thine eye,

And guide thy soul to mine even here,

When thou behold’st them drooping nigh,

And know’st them gather’d by the Rhine,

525

And offer’d from my heart to thine!

4

The river nobly foams and flows,

The charm of this enchanted ground,

And all its thousand turns disclose

Some fresher beauty varying round:

530

The haughtiest breast its wish might bound

Through life to dwell delighted here;

Nor could on earth a spot be found

To nature and to me so dear,

Could thy dear eyes in following mine

535

Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine!

LVI

By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground,

There is a small and simple pyramid,

Crowning the summit of the verdant mound;

Beneath its base are heroes’ ashes hid,

540

Our enemy’s – but let not that forbid

Honour to Marceau! o’er whose early tomb

Tears, big tears, gush’d from the rough soldier’s lid,

Lamenting and yet envying such a doom,

Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume.

LVII

545

Brief, brave, and glorious was his young career, –

His mourners were two hosts, his friends and foes;

And fitly may the stranger lingering here

Pray for his gallant spirit’s bright repose;

For he was Freedom’s champion, one of those,

550

The few in number, who had not o’erstept

The charter to chastise which she bestows

On such as wield her weapons; he had kept

The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o’er him wept.
¹

LVIII

Here Ehrenbreitstein,
¹
with her shatter’d wall

555

Black with the miner’s blast, upon her height

Yet shows of what she was, when shell and ball

Rebounding idly on her strength did light:

A tower of victory! from whence the flight

Of baffled foes was watch’d along the plain:

560

But Peace destroy’d what War could never blight,

And laid those proud roofs bare to Summer’s rain –

On which the iron shower for years had pour’d in vain.

LIX

Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! How long delighted

The stranger fain would linger on his way!

565

Thine is a scene alike where souls united

Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray;

And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey

On self-condemning bosoms, it were here,

Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay,

570

Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere,

Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year.

LX

Adieu to thee again! a vain adieu!

There can be no farewell to scene like thine;

The mind is colour’d by thy every hue;

575

And if reluctantly the eyes resign

Their cherish’d gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine!

’Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise;

More mighty spots may rise — more glaring shine,