“Fragments from a Metrical Journal” [title]
“Fragments from a Metrical Journal: Andernacht” [poem]
Andernacht. a
TWILIGHTʼs mists are gathering grey
Round us on our winding way;
Yet the mountainʼs purple crest
Reflects the glories of the west.
Rushing on with giant force,
System generated line number

Rolls the Rhine his glorious course;
Flashing, now, with flamy red,
Oʼer his jaggʼd basaltic bed;
Now, with current calm and wide,
Sweeping round the mountainʼs side;
System generated line number

Ever noble, proud, and free,
Flowing in his majesty.
Soon, upon the evening skies
Andernachtʼs grim ruins rise; 1
Buttress, battlement, and tower,
System generated line number

Remnants hoar of Roman power, 2
Monuments of Cæsarʼs sway,
Piecemeal mouldering away.
Lo, together loosely thrown,
Sculptured head and lettered stone;
System generated line number

Guardless now the arch‐way steep b
To rampart huge and frowning keep;
The empty moat is gay with flowers,
The night‐wind whistles through the towers,
And, flapping in the silent air,
System generated line number

The owl and bat are tenants there.
“Fragments from a Metrical Journal: St. Goar” [poem]
St. Goar. c
Past a rock with frowning front,
Wrinkled by the tempestʼs brunt, 3
By the Rhine we downward bore
Upon the village of St. Goar.
System generated line number

Bosomed deep among the hills,
Here old Rhine his current stills,
Loitering the banks between,
As if, enamoured of the scene,
He had forgot his onward way
System generated line number

For a live‐long summer day.
Grim the crags through whose dark cleft,
Behind, he hath a passage reft;
While, gaunt as gorge of hunted boar,
Dark yawns the foaming pass before,
System generated line number

Where the tormented waters rage,
Like demons in their Stygian cage,
In giddy eddies whirling round
With a sullen choking sound; 4
Or flinging far the scattering spray,
System generated line number

Oʼer the peaked rocks that bar his way.
—No marvel that the spell‐bound Rhine,
Like giant overcome with wine,
Should here relax his angry frown,
And, soothed to slumber, lay him down
System generated line number

Amid the vine‐clad banks, that lave
Their tresses in his placid wave.