MEMORIALS OF A TOUR ON THE CONTINENT, 1820
XIV. COMPOSED IN ONE OF THE CATHOLIC CANTONS
MEMORIALS OF A TOUR ON THE CONTINENT, 1820
DOOMED as we are our native dust To wet with many a bitter shower, It ill befits us to disdain The altar, to deride the fane, Where simple Sufferers bend, in trust To win a happier hour. I love, where spreads the village lawn, Upon some knee-worn cell to gaze: Hail to the firm unmoving cross, Aloft, where pines their branches toss! 10 And to the chapel far withdrawn, That lurks by lonely ways! Where’er we roam–along the brink Of Rhine–or by the sweeping Po, Through Alpine vale, or champain wide, Whate’er we look on, at our side Be Charity!–to bid us think, And feel, if we would know.