Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/290

254 LXII.

But these recede. Above me are the Alps,

The Palaces of Nature, whose vast walls

Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,

And throned Eternity in icy halls

Of cold Sublimity, where forms and falls

The Avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow!

All that expands the spirit, yet appals,

Gather around these summits, as to show

How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below.

LXIII.

But ere these matchless heights I dare to scan,

There is a spot should not be passed in vain,—

Morat! the proud, the patriot field! where man

May gaze on ghastly trophies of the slain,

Nor blush for those who conquered on that plain;

Here Burgundy bequeathed his tombless host,