R ELEAS'D at length I drop that heavy oar,
Which thousands (once fast chain'd) must quit no more,
And like a steed let loose, that shakes his mane,
And loudly neighing, scours across the plain,
With kindling hopes, and swelling heart, I fly
For health and pleasure to a fairer sky.
The anchor's weigh'd, the north-wind fills the sail:
Adieu, dear E NGLAND ! F RANCE , thy shores I hail!
Not now to linger in thy lengthening plains,
Or gilded city, revelling in its chains;
Reft of its spoil, those miracles of art!
Which through th' enchanted eye exalt the heart:
For they reconquer'd twice, and repossest,
Shall with their rightful lords for ever rest;
Borne back in triumph by the blood-stain'd arms
Of those, who from the cradle felt their charms;
Yet bought too dearly in that gallant strife
By many a lov'd, and long lamented life.
Far to the south in joyful haste I run
To bask in valleys nearer to the sun:
And lo! where, fearless of his hottest fires,
High o'er the clouds the hoary Alp aspires!
In vain the thunder rolls, the lightnings fly,
His icy summit braves the burning sky.
O'er earth and heav'n what sudden splendours play,
As in the west declines the orb of day!
But ah! the glory fades, and melts away.
As gay my hopes, as swiftly have they fled,
Of those bereft whose faltering steps I led,
Of those so dear, whose absence dims the day,
While sad and lonely onward still I stray.
Oh! were they here the visions to behold,
That still before my moistening eyes unfold!
In vain! — for E NGLAND and for home they sail,
To shelter that sweet flower so fair, so frail,
Which now in hope, and now alas! in fear,
They strive thro' sunshine, and thro' show'r, to rear.
Then flow my verse! to soothe their just regret:
Nor their last wish, their parting charge forget.
The rude, faint sketch the patience shall forgive:
For how shall language bid the landscape live?
See hills o'er hills in rich confusion rise!
(Their blue tops blending with the distant skies)
O'er the still lake their giant-shadows throw,
And view their awful forms revers'd below.
The dizzy pass where scarce the chamois goes
O'er seas of ice, and through eternal snows:
Th' o'erwhelming avalanche, of power to sweep
Flock, herd, and village down the yawning steep:
High o'er the dark abyss the plank that bends
From cliff to cliff, now sinks, and now ascends
Beneath the hunter's foot, while, scarcely heard,
Sails far below, and screams the imperial bird.
The headlong Fall, on whose resplendent spray
In tiny circlets its own rainbows play:
(Oft from the summit flies the ponderous rock
Hurl'd down in thunder by the torrent's shock,
As on it foams, with many an oak up-torn,
Raging from morn to eve, from eve to morn)
The rifted chasm; the cavern full of night,
Where the wild brook eludes the baffled sight:
The countless streams that feed the living lake,
And gently bid its slumbering waters wake;
While from each bay, behind the sheltering trees,
Steals many a bark to catch the welcome breeze,
Spreads the white sail, or lifts the sparkling oar,
Seeking, for gain or sport, the distant shore,
Now o'er the willing wave exulting glides,
Now bravely struggles with the vanquished tides:
The wilderness of woods! the vale of flowers!
Green, as in spring time, through the sultry hours,
By hills o'er-arched that lend both shade and showers.
Haply of old some gentle Angel, sent
To heal some grief, or prompt some high intent,
To smite the oppressor, or uplift the opprest,
Returning homeward from his high behest,
Pleas'd with his work of justice or of grace,
Paus'd here, and left his blessing on the place.

So fair the land that as its children stray
Far from their country and their homes away,
If chance those simple, well-known, sounds they hear
(Though scarcely music to a stranger's ear)
Which on their native hills the milk-maid sings,
(While the slant sun his lengthening shadow flings)
Her wandering heifer homeward to recal
From the wild woodland to the sheltering stall,
What wonder that for these lov'd scenes they yearn,
And back, in sighs and tears, repentant turn?
But this the least, H ELVETIA , of thy praise!
That in thee Nature all her charms displays,
And smiling sits on her exalted throne,
Fair in eternal youth, majestic and alone!
For safe within the rampart of thy rocks
Wander the myriads of thy herds and flocks,
The generous vine too gladdens all thy vales;
And sickness flies before thy mountain-gales;
And thine th' enlighten'd industry, that fills
With plenty every cottage on thy hills,
Whence, through the darkness of the busy night,
Gleams, starlike, many a taper's wakeful light;
Thine too each Son of Science, whether born
To teach of other worlds, or this adorn:
Bold, in the search of knowledge, to explore
The mine's tremendous secrets, or to soar
E'en to the glacier's point, and, safely there,
With mortal lips, inhale " empyrean air "
And thine the lofty bard, the letter'd sage,
Whose glory shall be thine from age to age;
In thee too Man is found, as man should be,
Active and brave, and innocent and free:
The last not least, for that secures the rest:
The willing slave deserves not to be blest;
Nor merits more the tyrant, both debased,
And from the rank of man alike disgraced:
Both reft of all that should controul us here,
One without hope, the other without fear,
Torn all those sure, those subtle ties that bind
Man to his brother-man, and mind to mind.
Oh! then ye natives of this happy land!
Assembling all, around your altars stand:
There shall the Spirits of your fathers rise,
To hear ye vow the patriot-sacrifice
Of every feud that separates clan from clan,
And of your Union mars the heav'n-taught plan.
Swear too that none, who dare in arms to strive
For your best birthright, shall th' attempt survive,
For well ye know the fraud and force of those
(At once the unwisest and the worst of foes)
Who thirst to enslave ye; though the accursed deed,
No gain to them, would make ye " poor indeed "
Oh! watch, from all your hills, with wary eye,
The smallest cloud, that darkens in the sky,
Drawn from your own, or from a foreign soil,
To blight the harvest of your fathers' toil.
Revere the sacred memory of the Dead,
Nor lose the liberty for which they bled;
Fulfil the trust to your own children due,
And leave them all your Sires bequeath'd to you.
For so, when gather'd to their ashes, long
Your names shall live in story and in song.
Nor are your hills the limits of your fame,
Wide as the world the gratitude you claim;
All, in your freedom free, your cause shall bless,
Refuge of all whom prince or priest oppress.
Doom'd for his virtues or his faith to roam,
In you the injured exile finds a home;
Safe and revered, the Patriot and the Sage
Smile at the Monk's, or Tyrant's, harmless rage.
And yet, though fair the land, the people blest,
In thee, in thee, dear E NGLAND ! would I rest:
I love thee better still the more I roam:
Proud of thee as my country and my home:
Thou fear'st not foreign nor domestic foes,
Thy laws no haughty neighbour dares impose,
Safe in thy valiant sons, thy subject-sea,
Thou dost not ask permission to be free:
Nay! had thy Spartan youth no wall of waves,
A world confederate could not make them slaves,
So early taught to think a freeman's life
Not worth preserving, vanquish'd in that strife.
But 'tis not now my theme to boast thy charms,
Thou land of wealth and virtue, arts and arms!
Thou art my choice, though changeful, though austere
Thy clime; and oft in pain, and oft in fear,
My panting lip, and labouring breast, inhale
The winter lingering in thy vernal gale.
Henceforth (my skill forgot, my strength no more)
I quit life's stormy sea, and seek the shore;
My only task the footsteps to pursue
(Far, far behind!) of those, the virtuous few,
Who serve, without reward, in Freedom's cause,
And hourly watch the sanctuary of her laws.
No more, oh London! but when duty calls,
To breathe the cloud that hovers o'er thy walls,
To stem thy crowds, endure thy deafening noise,
Gaze at thy splendours, or repent thy joys.
From thee far off I turn my willing feet
To the lone quiet of my lov'd retreat;
To stray from field to field in careless ease,
And count the blossoms on the tardy trees;
Climb the high down to meet the rising sun,
Or in my copse his mid-day fervour shun.
Oft as he sinks, accomplished Lock! behind
Thy solemn groves, up thy steep lawn I wind
Unseen, unheard, to mark his crimson ray
Gleam through the gathering clouds, and fade away;
Then, homeward turning, oft the past review;
Learning from old faults to escape from new;
Or call back joys long-fled, that would not stay,
Slighted perhaps in youth's presumptuous day,
(Yet youth to age a lesson oft can give,
And teach its timorous wisdom how to live).
Now dreaming though awake, I soar in air,
And build a thousand gorgeous castles there;
Then drop into my cottage-home content;
The night's repose earn'd by the day well-spent.
Still happier when by those my Board is cheer'd
(Kindred or friends) whom love has long endear'd,
Or should some honour'd Guest, half smiling, deign
To trace the limits of my little reign,
Then proud of both, each varying scene I show
The impending cliff, the gulfy stream below;
The box-clad hill, in whose unfading groves,
Fragrant and fair, the lingering traveller roves;
The grey church-spire, the tree-embosom'd town;
The clustering flocks that crowd the upland-down;
The distant mountain with its far-seen tower,
Now a sad purple in the summer-shower,
Now smiling, as the air-born colours play,
And the sun's course from dawn to dark betray;
The druid-grove, where many a reverend Yew
Hides from his thirsty beam the noontide dew;
The swelling steeps of Norbury's beech-crown'd height
Where lovely nature, tasteful art, unite
To lure the Traveller's eye, and then detain,
Spell-bound, and loth to leave the fair domain.
Meanwhile I listen with attentive ear
To catch his magic accents, as they veer
From wit to wisdom; his, upon whose tongue
The fate of his lov'd Ireland oft has hung;
Or his, before whose philosophic eye
The mists, that cover man's best knowledge fly;
Destin'd his country's glories to record,
And give her chiefs their last and best reward.
His too, who sings so well in Memory's praise
That She shall ne'er forget his deathless lays;
His, at whose bidding Science, like the Day,
Enlightens all with an impartial ray;
Who, lavish of his intellectual store,
Scatters (best alms!) instruction to the poor;
His Ends, with sleepless energy, pursues,
And those the noblest Ends that Man can choose.
Or his, whom, in the Senate, modest worth
Had raised to rank unknown to rank or birth,
Or his (both mute in an untimely grave!)
Wont to redress the wrong'd, protect the slave;
Arraign the Greatest guilty; or persuade
Stern Law to sheathe her sanguinary blade.
With such to live the envied lot be mine,
Pleas'd for the few the many to resign.
Blest in the esteem of such, and self-respect
More precious still, how vain the world's neglect!
How vain its honours! oft too dearly bought,
And worth the having only when unsought.
Ah! " hopes too fondly nurs'd, too rudely crost "
Even now I mourn for some for ever lost,
Not only mine, but their sad country's boast.
Not long I weep, to follow I prepare,
I would not be the last that heav'n shall spare;
Still some are left me, long in friendship tried,
Whose converse cheers me, and whose counsels guide.
Lov'd too, by those departed; and, in fame,
In genius, equal — equal, not the same;
With these I ask life's few last hours to spend;
Then calmly meet, nor wish'd, nor fear'd, its end.