Amours De Voyage Part 5

It is the simplest thing, but surely wholly uncalled for.

Do as you please; you know I trust implicitly to you.

Say whatever is right and needful for ending the matter.

Only don't tell Mr. Claude, what I will tell you as a secret, That I should like very well to show him myself I forget it.

P.S. (3) I am to say that the wedding is finally settled for Tuesday.

Ah, my dear Miss Roper, you surely, surely can manage Not to let it appear that I know of that odious matter.

It would be pleasanter far for myself to treat it exactly As if it had not occurred: and I do not think he would like it.

I must remember to add, that as soon as the wedding is over We shall be off, I believe, in a hurry, and travel to Milan; There to meet friends of Papa's, I am told, at the Croce di Malta Then I cannot say whither, but not at present to England.

XIII. Claude to Eustace.

Yes, on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city,-- So it appears; though then I was quite uncertain about it.

So, however, it was. And now to explain the proceeding.

I was to go, as I told you, I think, with the people to Florence.

Only the day before, the foolish family Vernon Made some uneasy remarks, as we walked to our lodging together, As to intentions forsooth, and so forth. I was astounded, Horrified quite; and obtaining just then, as it happened, an offer (No common favour) of seeing the great Ludovisi collection, Why, I made this a pretence, and wrote that they must excuse me.

How could I go? Great Heavens! to conduct a permitted flirtation Under those vulgar eyes, the observed of such observers!

Well, but I now, by a series of fine diplomatic inquiries, Find from a sort of relation, a good and sensible woman, Who is remaining at Rome with a brother too ill for removal, That it was wholly unsanctioned, unknown,--not, I think, by Georgina: She, however, ere this,--and that is the best of the story,-- She and the Vernon, thank Heaven, are wedded and gone--honey-mooning.

So--on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city.

Tibur I have not seen, nor the lakes that of old I had dreamt of; Tibur I shall not see, nor Anio's waters, nor deep en- Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace; Tibur I shall not see;--but something better I shall see.

Twice I have tried before, and failed in getting the horses; Twice I have tried and failed: this time it shall not be a failure.

Therefore farewell, ye hills, and ye, ye envineyarded ruins!

Therefore farewell, ye walls, palaces, pillars, and domes!

Therefore farewell, far seen, ye peaks of the mythic Albano, Seen from Montorio's height, Tibur and Aesula's hills!

Ah, could we once, ere we go, could we stand, while, to ocean descending, Sinks o'er the yellow dark plain slowly the yellow broad sun, Stand, from the forest emerging at sunset, at once in the champaign, Open, but studded with trees, chestnuts umbrageous and old, E'en in those fair open fields that incurve to thy beautiful hollow, Nemi, imbedded in wood, Nemi, inurned in the hill!-- Therefore farewell, ye plains, and ye hills, and the City Eternal!

Therefore farewell! We depart, but to behold you again!

Canto IV.

Eastward, or Northward, or West? I wander and ask as I wander; Weary, yet eager and sure, Where shall I come to my love?

Whitherward hasten to seek her? Ye daughters of Italy, tell me, Graceful and tender and dark, is she consorting with you?

Thou that out-climbest the torrent, that tendest thy goats to the summit, Call to me, child of the Alp, has she been seen on the heights?

Italy, farewell I bid thee! for whither she leads me, I follow.

Farewell the vineyard! for I, where I but guess her, must go; Weariness welcome, and labour, wherever it be, if at last it Bring me in mountain or plain into the sight of my love.

I. Claude to Eustace,--from Florence.

Gone from Florence; indeed! and that is truly provoking;-- Gone to Milan, it seems; then I go also to Milan.

Five days now departed; but they can travel but slowly;-- I quicker far; and I know, as it happens, the home they will go to.-- Why, what else should I do? Stay here and look at the pictures, Statues and churches? Alack, I am sick of the statues and pictures!-- No, to Bologna, Parma, Piacenza, Lodi, and Milan, Off go we to-night,--and the Venus go to the Devil!

II. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.

Gone to Como, they said; and I have posted to Como.

There was a letter left; but the cameriere had lost it.

Could it have been for me? They came, however, to Como, And from Como went by the boat,--perhaps to the Spluegen,-- Or to the Stelvio, say, and the Tyrol; also it might be By Porlezza across to Lugano, and so to the Simplon Possibly, or the St. Gothard,--or possibly, too, to Baveno, Orta, Turin, and elsewhere. Indeed, I am greatly bewildered.

III. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.

I have been up the Spluegen, and on the Stelvio also: Neither of these can I find they have followed; in no one inn, and This would be odd, have they written their names. I have been to Porlezza; There they have not been seen, and therefore not at Lugano.

What shall I do? Go on through the Tyrol, Switzerland, Deutschland, Seeking, an inverse Saul, a kingdom to find only a.s.ses?

There is a tide, at least, in the LOVE affairs of mortals, Which, when taken at flood, leads on to the happiest fortune,-- Leads to the marriage-morn and the orange-flowers and the altar, And the long lawful line of crowned joys to crowned joys succeeding.-- Ah, it has ebbed with me! Ye G.o.ds, and when it was flowing, Pitiful fool that I was, to stand fiddle-faddling in that way!

IV. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.

I have returned and found their names in the book at Como.

Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error.

Added in feminine hand, I read, By the boat to Bellaggio.-- So to Bellaggio again, with the words of he writing to aid me.

Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance.

So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them.

V. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.

I have but one chance left,--and that is going to Florence.

But it is cruel to turn. The mountains seem to demand me,-- Peak and valley from far to beckon and motion me onward.

Somewhere amid their folds she pa.s.ses whom fain I would follow; Somewhere amid those heights she haply calls me to seek her.

Ah, could I hear her call! could I catch the glimpse of her raiment!

Turn, however, I must, though it seem I turn to desert her; For the sense of the thing is simply to hurry to Florence, Where the certainty yet may be learnt, I suppose, from the Ropers.

VI. Mary Trevellyn, from Lucerne, to Miss Roper, at Florence.

Dear Miss Roper,--By this you are safely away, we are hoping, Many a league from Rome; ere long we trust we shall see you.

How have you travelled? I wonder;--was Mr. Claude your companion?

As for ourselves, we went from Como straight to Lugano; So by the Mount St. Gothard; we meant to go by Porlezza, Taking the steamer, and stopping, as you had advised, at Bellaggio, Two or three days or more; but this was suddenly altered, After we left the hotel, on the very way to the steamer.

So we have seen, I fear, not one of the lakes in perfection.

Well, he is not come, and now, I suppose, he will not come.

What will you think, meantime? and yet I must really confess it;-- What will you say? I wrote him a note. We left in a hurry, Went from Milan to Como, three days before we expected.

But I thought, if he came all the way to Milan, he really Ought not to be disappointed: and so I wrote three lines to Say I had heard he was coming, desirous of joining our party;-- If so, then I said, we had started for Como, and meant to Cross the St. Gothard, and stay, we believed, at Lucerne, for the summer.

Was it wrong? and why, if it was, has it failed to bring him?

Did he not think it worth while to come to Milan? He knew (you Told him) the house we should go to. Or may it, perhaps, have miscarried?

Any way, now, I repent, and am heartily vexed that I wrote it.

There is a home on the sh.o.r.e of the Alpine sea, that upswelling High up the mountain-sides spreads in the hollow between; Wilderness, mountain, and snow from the land of the olive conceal it; Under Pilatus's hill low by the river it lies; Italy, utter the word, and the olive and vine will allure not,-- Wilderness, forest, and snow will not the pa.s.sage impede; Italy, unto thy cities receding, the clue to recover, Hither, recovered the clue, shall not the traveller haste?