_burst_ upon us suddenly; but was revealed by slow degrees, while we felt so satisfied and delighted with what lay distinctly outspread around us, that we had hardly begun to look for objects less defined, in the far-distant horizon. I cannot describe the green hollows, hills, slopes, and woody plains--the towns, villages, and towers--the crowds of secondary mountains, substantial in form and outline, bounding the prospect in other quarters--nor the bewitching loveliness of the lake of Lugano lying at the base of Mount Salvador, and thence stretching out its arms between the bold steeps. My brother said he had never in his life seen so extensive a prospect at the expense only of two hours' climbing: but it must be remembered that the whole of the ascent is almost a precipice. Beyond the town of Lugano, the hills and wide vale are thickly sprinkled with towns and houses. Small lakes (to us their names unknown) were glittering among the woody steeps, and beneath lay the broad neck of the Peninsula of St. Salvador--a tract of hill and valley, woods and waters. Far in the distance on the other side, the towers of Milan might be descried. The river Po, a ghostly serpent-line, rested on the brown plains of Lombardy; and there again we traced the Ticino, departed from his mountain solitudes, where we had been his happy companions. "But I have yet only looked _beyond_ the mount. There is a house beside the Chapel, probably in former times inhabited by persons devoted to religious services--or it might be only destined for the same use for which it serves at present, a shelter for them who flock from the vallies to the yearly Festival. Repairs are going on in the Chapel, which was struck by lightning a few years ago, and all but the altar and its holy things, with the image of the patron saint, destroyed. Their preservation is an established miracle, and the surrounding peasantry consider the memorials as sanctified anew by that visitation from heaven." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. ii.) See note to stanzas _Composed in one of the Catholic Cantons_, p. 313.--ED. VARIANTS: [Footnote 517: In 1822 only. 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! And to the Chapel far withdrawn, That lurks by lonely ways! Short-sighted children of the dust, We live and move in sorrow's power; Extinguish that unblest disdain That scorns the altar, mocks the fane, Where patient Sufferers bend--in trust To win a happier hour. ] [Footnote 518: 1837. ... heart, ... 1827. ] [Footnote 519: In 1822 only. /* Ye Alps, in many a rugged link Far-stretched, and Thou, majestic Po, Dimly from yon tall Mount descried, Where'er I wander be my Guide, Sweet Charity!--that bids us think, And feel, if we would know! */ ] FOOTNOTES: [Footnote IA: See _Comus_, l. 5.--ED.]