"Calais" [essay]
Ever How much has been said of Calais, a Every one who has ever
set foot on the French shore, from poor Yorick to the veriest
Scribbler ever blotted paper has written half a volume upon
Calais, b And no marvel, Calais—the busy, the bustling the—I had
almost said the beautiful, for beautiful it was to me and I
believe to every one, who enters it as a vestibule, an introduction
to France, and to the french. 1 See calais and you can see no more,
though you should perambulate France from the Atlantic to
the Mediterranean. It is a little France, a miniature picture but
not the less resemblance. Stand on the pier and look round
you, the sky is a french sky, it is a very turquoise, the sea
is a French sea in every thing but its want of motion, the
air is French air, None of your english boisterous sea puffs
that blow the dust the dust in your eyes when you wish
to be particularly clear sighted, looking for the french steamboat
perhaps, c No it is a mere breath, you cant call it a breeze
yet bearing a delicious a balmy coolness, and a little, a very
little smell of the sea, Looking at the fishing boats, they are peculi‐
arly french, and particularly clumsy The red, tattered shapeless
sail, the undistinguishable resemblance of stem to stern
the porpoise like manner in which the vessel labours through
the water, the incorrigible disorder that reigns on board,
the confusion of fish of out of water with men that are at least
out of their element would mark a french fishing boat whatever
quarter of the world it might happen to be driven to Look at
the town, the chimnies are entirely vapourless, and have that
peculiarly clu awkward look incident to all useless things And
look at the people, the countenance the costume the tout en‐
semble is altogether different from any thing you ever saw and
in England, and yet Englands cliffs are on the horizon four
hours might see you beneath them 2 It is most extraordinary
"Passing the Alps" [poem]
Passing the Alps.
To day we pass the Alps, 3 to day
High oer the barrier winds our way
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The barrier of boundless length 4
The Queen of nations, 5 in her strength
Considered its recesses lone
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Beseeming bulwark for her throne
Until her Carthaginian foe
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Had soiled the yet unsullied snow
The eagle drove from her retreat
And woke the echoes from their sleep
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That neer had answered before
Save to the Avalanches roar. 6
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Methinks upon the mountain side
I see the billows of that tide
Of men and horses headlong driven
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As clouds before the blast of heaven
That ever change their hurrying form
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In dark foreboding of the storm
When the low suns last light is shed
In glowing streaks of swarthy red
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And from his cave with fitful swell
Wakes the wild tempest sounding shell
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So see the plumes in dark array
Roll on their yet untrodden way
Unbroken, yet with dreadful sweep
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Mark you that stormy changeful deep
Wave after wave is eddying on
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And crested casque, and morion,
Flash frequent, as the lightning flies
Among the armies of the skies.
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But fiercer storm is gathering now
Than ever broke on Alpine brow
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And wild shall the confusion be
The strife of that tremendous sea,
When bursting from the Alpine chain,
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It meets the storm on Cannæs plain.— 7
"Milan Cathedral" [poem]
Milan Cathedral.
The heat of Summer day is sped
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On far mont Rose the sun is red 8
And mark you Milans marble pile
Glow with the mellow rays awhile
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Lo there his relieved 9 his front so high
On the blue sky of Italy
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While higher still above him bear
with proportion fair

Fretted with Gothic Carving well
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Full many a spiry pinnacle,
And dazzling bright as Rosas Crest
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Each with his sculptured statue prest
They seem to stand in that thin air
As on a thread of Gossamer 10
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You think the evening zephyrs play
Could sweep them from their post away
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And bear them on its sportful wing
As Autumn leaves wild scattering.
"Andernacht" [poem]
Andernacht d
We have wound a weary way
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Twilights mists are gathering grey
Purple now the hills are showing
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Bright the western clouds are glowing
Lashing on with giant force
Rolls the Rhine his sullen course
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Flash his waves with flamy red
Eddying oer their basalt bed
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Now with wide expanded breast
Now between the hills comprest
Ever noble, ever free
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Flows his river majesty
Now upon the evening skies
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Andernachts hoar ruins rise 11
Memorials of the Roman power 12
Buttress and battlement and tower
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Decaying falling fast away
The monuments of Caesars sway
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In heaps together loosely thrown
The sculptured head, inscriptioned stone
Unguarded now the bridges length
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And failing fast its arches strength
The green sod in the moat is growing
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The cold wind in the chambers blowing
And flapping through the thin night air
The owl and bat the tenants there
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"St Goar" [poem]
St Goar e
We passed a rock, whose bare front ever
Had borne the brunt of wind and weather 13
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And downwards by the Rhine we bore
Upon the village of St Goar
That mid the hills embosomed it lay
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Where the Rhine checked his onward way
And lay the mighty crags between
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As if enamoured of the scene
It loved not on its way to wind
And leave a spot so fair behind
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For grim the
through whose cleft

The waters had a passage reft
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And gaunt the gorge that yawned before
Through which a passage
they must roar

No marvel they should love to rest
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And peaceful spread their placid breast
Before in fury driving dread
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Tormented on his rocky bed
Or flinging far his scattering spray
Oer the peaked rocks that bar his way
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Wave upon wave at random tost
Or in the giddy whirlpool lost 14
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And now are undisturbed sleeping
No more on rocks his billows beating
But lightly laughing laps the tide
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Where stoop the vineyards to his side