FUENTES Once harboured the Good and the Brave,

Nor to her was the dance of soft pleasure unknown; Her banners for festal enjoyment did wave

While the thrill ofher fifes thro' the mountains was blown:

Now gads the wild vine o'er the pathless AscentO silence of Nature, how deep is thy sway When the whirlwind of human destruction is spent, Our tumults appeased, and our strifes passed away!—

XXIII.

THE ITALIAN ITINERANT, AND THE SWISS GOATHERD.

PART L

1.

Now that the farewell tear is dried,
Heaven prosper thee, be hope thy guide!
Hope be thy guide, adventurous Boy;
The wages of thy travel, joy!

Whether for London bound-to trill
Thy mountain notes with simple skill;
Or on thy head to poise a show
Of Images in seemly row;

The graceful form of milk-white steed,
Or Bird that soared with Ganymede;
Or through our hamlets thou wilt bear
The sightless Milton, with his hair

Around his placid temples curled ;

And Shakspeare at his side—a freight,
If clay could think and mind were weight,
For him who bore the world!

Hope be thy guide, adventurous Boy;
The wages of thy travel, joy!

2.

But thou, perhaps, (alert and free
Though serving sage philosophy)
Wilt ramble over hill and dale,

A Vender of the well-wrought Scale
Whose sentient tube instructs to time
A purpose to a fickle clime :

Whether thou choose this useful part,
Or minister to finer art,

Though robbed of many a cherished dream,

And crossed by many a shattered scheme, What stirring wonders wilt thou see

In the proud Isle of liberty!

Yet will the Wanderer sometimes pine

With thoughts which no delights can chase,

Recal a Sister's last embrace,

His Mother's neck entwine;

Nor shall forget the Maiden coy

That would have loved the bright-haired Boy!

3.

My Song, encouraged by the grace
That beams from his ingenuous face,
For this Adventurer scruples not
To prophesy a golden lot;

Due recompense, and safe return

To Coмo's steeps his happy bourne!
Where he, aloft in garden glade,

Shall tend, with his own dark-eyed Maid,.

The towering maize, and prop the twig

That ill supports the luscious fig;

Or feed his eye in paths sun-proof
With purple of the trellis roof,

That through the jealous leaves escapes
From Cadenabbia's pendant grapes.
—Oh might he tempt that Goatherd-child
To share his wanderings! him whose look
Even yet my heart can scarcely brook,
So touchingly he smiled,

As with a rapture caught from heaven,
For unasked alms in pity given.

PART II.

1.

WITH nodding plumes, and lightly drest Like Foresters in leaf-green vest, The Helvetian Mountaineers, on ground For Tell's dread archery renowned, Before the target stood-to claim The guerdon of the steadiest aim. Loud was the rifle-gun's report, A startling thunder quick and short! But, flying through the heights around, Echo prolonged a tell-tale sound Of hearts and hands alike "prepared The treasures they enjoy to guard!” And, if there be a favoured hour When Heroes are allowed to quit The Tomb, and on the clouds to sit With tutelary power,

On their Descendants shedding grace,

This was the hour, and that the place.