From the great spousals newly solemnised
  At their chief city, in the sight of Heaven. 390
  Like bees they swarmed, gaudy and gay as bees;
  Some vapoured in the unruliness of joy,
  And with their swords flourished as if to fight
  The saucy air.  In this proud company
  We landed—­took with them our evening meal, 395
  Guests welcome almost as the angels were
  To Abraham of old.  The supper done,
  With flowing cups elate and happy thoughts
  We rose at signal given, and formed a ring
  And, hand in hand, danced round and round the board; 400
  All hearts were open, every tongue was loud
  With amity and glee; we bore a name
  Honoured in France, the name of Englishmen,
  And hospitably did they give us hail,
  As their forerunners in a glorious course; 405
  And round and round the board we danced again. 
  With these blithe friends our voyage we renewed
  At early dawn.  The monastery bells
  Made a sweet jingling in our youthful ears;
  The rapid river flowing without noise, 410
  And each uprising or receding spire
  Spake with a sense of peace, at intervals
  Touching the heart amid the boisterous crew
  By whom we were encompassed.  Taking leave
  Of this glad throng, foot-travellers side by side, 415
  Measuring our steps in quiet, we pursued
  Our journey, and ere twice the sun had set
  Beheld the Convent of Chartreuse, and there
  Rested within an awful solitude:  [p]
  Yes, for even then no other than a place 420
  Of soul-affecting solitude appeared
  That far-famed region, though our eyes had seen,
  As toward the sacred mansion we advanced,
  Arms flashing, and a military glare
  Of riotous men commissioned to expel 425
  The blameless inmates, and belike subvert
  That frame of social being, which so long
  Had bodied forth the ghostliness of things
  In silence visible and perpetual calm.

—­“Stay, stay your sacrilegious hands!”—­The voice 430
  Was Nature’s, uttered from her Alpine throne;
  I heard it then and seem to hear it now—­
  “Your impious work forbear, perish what may,
  Let this one temple last, be this one spot
  Of earth devoted to eternity!” 435
  She ceased to speak, but while St. Bruno’s pines [q]
  Waved their dark tops, not silent as they waved,
  And while below, along their several beds,
  Murmured the sister streams of Life and Death, [r]
  Thus by conflicting passions pressed, my heart 440
  Responded; “Honour to the patriot’s zeal! 
  Glory and hope to new-born Liberty! 
  Hail to the mighty projects of the time!