The Diary of an Ennuyée | Page 7

jarring world And all its passions, follies, cares, and crimes-- And bids us gaze, even in the city's heart, On such a scene as this! O fairest spot! If but the pictured semblance, the dead image Of thy majestic beauty, hath a power To wake such deep delight; if that blue lake, Over whose lifeless breast no breezes play, Those mimic mountains robed in purple light, Yon painted verdure that but seems to glow, Those forms unbreathing, and those motionless woods, A beauteous mockery all--can ravish thus, What would it be, could we now gaze indeed Upon thy living landscape? could we breathe Thy mountain air, and listen to thy waves, As they run rippling past our feet, and see That lake lit up by dancing sunbeams--and Those light leaves quivering in the summer air; Or linger some sweet eve just on this spot Where now we seem to stand, and watch the stars Flash into splendour, one by one, as night Steals over yon snow-peaks, and twilight fades Behind the steeps of Jura! here, O here! 'Mid scenes where Genius, Worth and Wisdom dwelt,[D] Which fancy peopled with a glowing train Of most divine creations--Here to stray With one most cherished, and in loving eyes Read a sweet comment on the wonders round-- Would this indeed be bliss? would not the soul Be lost in its own depths? and the full heart Languish with sense of beauty unexprest, And faint beneath its own excess of life?
Saturday.--Quitted Geneva, and slept at St. Maurice. I was ill during the last few days of our stay, and therefore left Geneva with the less regret. I suffer now so constantly, that a day tolerably free from pain seems a blessing for which I can scarce be sufficiently thankful. Such was yesterday.
Our road lay along the south bank of the lake, through Evian, Thonon, St. Gingough: and on the opposite shores we had in view successively, Lausanne, Vevai, Clarens, and Chillon. A rain storm pursued, or almost surrounded us the whole morning; but we had the good fortune to escape it. We travelled faster than it could pursue, and it seemed to retire before us as we approached. The effect was surprisingly beautiful; for while the two extremities of the lake were discoloured and enveloped in gloom, that part opposite to us was as blue and transparent as heaven itself, and almost as bright. Over Vevai, as we viewed it from La Meillerie, rested one end of a glorious rainbow: the other extremity appeared to touch the bosom of the lake, and shone vividly against the dark mountains above Chillon. La Meillerie--Vevai! what magic in those names! and O what a power has genius to hallow with its lovely creations, scenes already so lavishly adorned by Nature! it was not, however, of St. Preux I thought, as I passed under the rock of the Meillerie. Ah! how much of happiness, of enjoyment, have I lost, in being forced to struggle against my feelings, instead of abandoning myself to them! but surely I have done right. Let me repeat it again and again to myself, and let that thought, if possible, strengthen and console me.
Monday.--I have resolved to attempt no description of scenery; but my pen is fascinated. I must note a few of the objects which struck me to-day and yesterday, that I may at will combine them hereafter to my mind's eye, and recall the glorious pictures I beheld, as we travelled through the Vallais to Brig: the swollen and turbid (no longer "blue and arrowy") Rhone, rushing and roaring along; the gigantic mountains in all their endless variety of fantastic forms, which enclosed us round,--their summits now robed in curling clouds, and then, as the winds swept them aside, glittering in the sunshine; the little villages perched like eagles' nests on the cliffs, far, far above our heads; the deep rocky channels through which the torrents had madly broken a way, tearing through every obstacle till they reached the Rhone, and marking their course with devastation; the scene of direful ruin at Martigny; the cataracts gushing, bounding from the living rock and plunging into some unseen abyss below; even the shrubs and the fruit trees which in the wider parts of the valley bordered the road side; the vines, the rich scarlet barberries, the apples and pears which we might have gathered by extending our hands;--all and each, when I recall them, will rise up a vivid picture before my own fancy;--but never could be truly represented to the mind of another--at least through the medium of words.
And yet, with all its wonders and beauties, this day's journey has not enchanted me like Saturday's. The scenery then had a different species of beauty, a deeper interest--when the dark blue sky was above