Poems on Travel Part 10

We natives should know best." 75 I turned, and "Just those fellows' way", Our captain said, "The 'long-sh.o.r.e thieves Are laughing at us in their sleeves."

'In truth, the boy leaned laughing back; And one, half-hidden by his side 80 Under the furled sail, soon I spied, With great gra.s.s hat and kerchief black, Who looked up with his kingly throat, Said somewhat, while the other shook His hair back from his eyes to look 85 Their longest at us; then the boat, I know not how, turned sharply round, Laying her whole side on the sea As a leaping fish does; from the lee, Into the weather, cut somehow 90 Her sparkling path beneath our bow; And so went off, as with a bound, Into the rosy and golden half Of the sky, to overtake the sun And reach the sh.o.r.e, like the sea-calf 95 Its singing cave; yet I caught one Glance ere away the boat quite pa.s.sed, And neither time nor toil could mar Those features: so I saw the last Of Waring!'--You? Oh, never star 100 Was lost here, but it rose afar!

Look East, where whole new thousands are!

In Vishnu-land what Avatar?

R. BROWNING.

ON THE RHINE

Vain is the effort to forget.

Some day I shall be cold, I know, As is the eternal moon-lit snow Of the high Alps, to which I go But ah, not yet! not yet! 5

Vain is the agony of grief.

'Tis true, indeed, an iron knot Ties straitly up from mine thy lot, And were it snapt--thou lov'st me not!

But is despair relief? 10

Awhile let me with thought have done; And as this brimmed unwrinkled Rhine And that far purple mountain line Lie sweetly in the look divine Of the slow-sinking sun; 15

So let me lie, and calm as they Let beam upon my inward view Those eyes of deep, soft, lucent hue-- Eyes too expressive to be blue, Too lovely to be grey. 20

Ah Quiet, all things feel thy balm!

Those blue hills too, this river's flow, Were restless once, but long ago.

Tamed is their turbulent youthful glow: Their joy is in their calm. 25

M. ARNOLD.

THE CASTLED CRAG OF DRACHENFELS

The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossomed trees, 5 And fields which promise corn and wine, And scattered cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them s.h.i.+ne, Have strewed a scene, which I should see With double joy wert _thou_ with me. 10

And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes And hands which offer early flowers, Walk smiling o'er this paradise; Above, the frequent feudal towers Through green leaves lift their walls of grey; 15 And many a rock which steeply lowers, And n.o.ble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers; But one thing want these banks of Rhine,-- Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine! 20

I send the lilies given to me; Though long before thy hand they touch, I know that they must withered be, But yet reject them not as such; For I have cherished them as dear, 25 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 gathered by the Rhine, And offered from my heart to thine! 30

The river n.o.bly foams and flows, The charm of this enchanted ground, And all its thousand turns disclose Some fresher beauty varying round: The haughtiest breast its wish might bound 35 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 Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine! 40

LORD BYRON.

'UP THE RHINE'

Why, Tourist, why With Pa.s.sport have to do?

Pr'ythee stay at home and pa.s.s The Port and Sherry too.

Why, Tourist, why 5 Embark for Rotterdam?

Pr'ythee stay at home and take Thy Hollands in a dram.

Why, Tourist, why To foreign climes repair? 10 Pr'ythee take thy German Flute, And breathe a German air.

Why, Tourist, why The Seven Mountains view?

Any one at home can tint 15 A hill with Prussian Blue.

Why, Tourist, why To old Colonia's walls?

Sure, to see a _Wrenish_ Dome, One needn't leave St. Paul's. 20

T. HOOD.

COLOGNE

In Kohln, a town of monks and bones, And pavements fanged with murderous stones, And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches; I counted two and seventy stenches, All well defined, and several stinks! 5 Ye Nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks, The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, Nymphs, what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine? 10

S. T. COLERIDGE.

THE PURSUIT OF LETTERS

The Germans for Learning enjoy great repute; But the English make _Letters_ still more a pursuit; For a c.o.c.kney will go from the banks of the Thames To Cologne for an _O_ and to Na.s.sau for M's.

T. HOOD.

FROM 'DOVER TO MUNICH'

Farewell, farewell! Before our prow Leaps in white foam the noisy channel; A tourist's cap is on my brow, My legs are cased in tourist's flannel:

Around me gasp the invalids-- 5 (The quant.i.ty to-night is fearful) I take a brace or so of weeds, And feel (as yet) extremely cheerful.

The night wears on:--my thirst I quench With one imperial pint of porter; 10 Then drop upon a casual bench-- (The bench is short, but I am shorter)--

Place 'neath my head the _havre-sac_ Which I have stored my little all in, And sleep, though moist about the back, 15 Serenely in an old tarpaulin.

Bed at Ostend at 5 a.m.

Breakfast at 6, and train 6.30, Tickets to Konigswinter (mem.

The seats objectionably dirty). 20

And onward through those dreary flats We move, with scanty s.p.a.ce to sit on, Flanked by stout girls with steeple hats, And waists that paralyse a Briton;--

By many a tidy little town, 25 Where tidy little Fraus sit knitting, (The men's pursuits are, lying down, Smoking perennial pipes, and spitting;)

And doze, and execrate the heat, And wonder how far off Cologne is, 30 And if we shall get aught to eat, Till we get there, save raw polonies;

Until at last the 'grey old pile'

Is seen, is past, and three hours later We're ordering steaks, and talking vile 35 Mock-German to an Austrian waiter.