Around the oak the wild-vine weavesIts glittering wreath of blood-red leaves;But it pays not back the peasant’s cares;No gold it wins, and no fruit it bears.It may flaunt its glories on the breeze,We have no time to waste on these;Our’s is the Vine near whose goodly rootWe seek, and find the jewelled fruit!The wild-vine springs on the mountain’s crest,By every wind are its leaves caress’d;But it sickens soon in the garish rayThat rests on its beauty all the day.Let it joy awhile in the breeze and sun,A lovely trifler to look upon;Our’s is the Vine that, with worthier pride,Gems with its fruit the fair hill-side!Our’s is the Vine! Our’s is the Vine!Our’s is the source of the rich red wine!Flowers may be fair on the maiden’s brow—Streams may be bright in their sunny flow—But dearer to us is the joyous spellWhich our clustering grape calls up so well;Of purple and gold our wreaths we twine—Our’s is the Vine! Our’s is the Vine!
Around the oak the wild-vine weavesIts glittering wreath of blood-red leaves;But it pays not back the peasant’s cares;No gold it wins, and no fruit it bears.It may flaunt its glories on the breeze,We have no time to waste on these;Our’s is the Vine near whose goodly rootWe seek, and find the jewelled fruit!The wild-vine springs on the mountain’s crest,By every wind are its leaves caress’d;But it sickens soon in the garish rayThat rests on its beauty all the day.Let it joy awhile in the breeze and sun,A lovely trifler to look upon;Our’s is the Vine that, with worthier pride,Gems with its fruit the fair hill-side!Our’s is the Vine! Our’s is the Vine!Our’s is the source of the rich red wine!Flowers may be fair on the maiden’s brow—Streams may be bright in their sunny flow—But dearer to us is the joyous spellWhich our clustering grape calls up so well;Of purple and gold our wreaths we twine—Our’s is the Vine! Our’s is the Vine!
Around the oak the wild-vine weavesIts glittering wreath of blood-red leaves;But it pays not back the peasant’s cares;No gold it wins, and no fruit it bears.It may flaunt its glories on the breeze,We have no time to waste on these;Our’s is the Vine near whose goodly rootWe seek, and find the jewelled fruit!The wild-vine springs on the mountain’s crest,By every wind are its leaves caress’d;But it sickens soon in the garish rayThat rests on its beauty all the day.Let it joy awhile in the breeze and sun,A lovely trifler to look upon;Our’s is the Vine that, with worthier pride,Gems with its fruit the fair hill-side!Our’s is the Vine! Our’s is the Vine!Our’s is the source of the rich red wine!Flowers may be fair on the maiden’s brow—Streams may be bright in their sunny flow—But dearer to us is the joyous spellWhich our clustering grape calls up so well;Of purple and gold our wreaths we twine—Our’s is the Vine! Our’s is the Vine!
Around the oak the wild-vine weaves
Its glittering wreath of blood-red leaves;
But it pays not back the peasant’s cares;
No gold it wins, and no fruit it bears.
It may flaunt its glories on the breeze,
We have no time to waste on these;
Our’s is the Vine near whose goodly root
We seek, and find the jewelled fruit!
The wild-vine springs on the mountain’s crest,
By every wind are its leaves caress’d;
But it sickens soon in the garish ray
That rests on its beauty all the day.
Let it joy awhile in the breeze and sun,
A lovely trifler to look upon;
Our’s is the Vine that, with worthier pride,
Gems with its fruit the fair hill-side!
Our’s is the Vine! Our’s is the Vine!
Our’s is the source of the rich red wine!
Flowers may be fair on the maiden’s brow—
Streams may be bright in their sunny flow—
But dearer to us is the joyous spell
Which our clustering grape calls up so well;
Of purple and gold our wreaths we twine—
Our’s is the Vine! Our’s is the Vine!
Carlowitz—Peterwarradin—Bridge of Boats—Neusatz—The Journey of Life—The Chevalier Peitrich—Austrian Officers—The Hungarian Poet—Illok—The Ancient Surnium—Peel Tower—Intense Cold—Flat Shores—Mohasch—Földvar—Pesth—German Postillion—A Few Last Words.
Earlyon the morrow we were off Carlowitz, a cathedral town beautifully situated; of which, owing to the abrupt windings of the river, we had two distinct views. The Cathedral is a handsome edifice, with two light and graceful spires; having from a distance very much the appearance of minarets. The prevailing religion on the Sclavonian shore of the Danube is that of the Greek Church, which has also obtained considerably in Hungary; but the Roman Catholic worship is to be found everywhere along its banks. Carlowitz contains about twelve thousand inhabitants; and its shore was crowded with passage and fishing boats—while the whole height beneath which it is built was covered with vineyards and orchards, in the finest state of cultivation; the latter being principally composed of trees bearing a small blue plum, used in thedistillation of brandy; which, we were told, was of a very fine quality. A short distance beyond the city, the tributary river Thuss empties itself into the Danube; offering extraordinary facilities for the transport of produce, in the very heart of a rich and prolific country.
A sudden angle of the river immediately after leaving Carlowitz, brought us within sight of Peterwarradin, a very fine fortress with strong and extensive outworks; and in its position greatly resembling Belgrade. It is garrisoned by three thousand Austrian troops; and on arriving opposite to the height on which it is seated, we observed the remains of an outwork, on an island in the centre of the river, that has been abandoned, owing to its annual destruction by the ice; the outlay necessary to preserve its efficiency having been considered greater than its probable utility was thought to warrant.
A second bold sweep of the Danube, which winds like a girdle about the hill-seated fortress, disclosed to us the bridge of boats that links Peterwarradin with Neusatz, a cheerful-looking town containing six churches; and here the Francis I. fired her three pigmy guns, ere she passed on to the wooden pier where she was to take on board her new passengers; and, greatly to our regret, to land our courtly and amiable friend the Chevalier, whose estate was situated within three leagues of the river.
A long voyage resembles a long life—Friends and associates fall from you on all sides as you advance; and those who join company more tardily, generally fail to fill up the void occasioned by the loss of the earlier and better known. Both in the one and the other, you set forward with high hopes and unexhausted energies; and you lend yourself readily to the companionship of those among whom your fate has flung you. But as you become accustomed to the scrip and the staff; and learn by experience the weariness, and the withering, incident to your pilgrimage, you turn not with the same joyousness to greet the new wayfarer who joins your company. You may indeed share with him your loaf of bread and your cruise of water; but the heart no longer goes forth with the hand, to mingle in the gift.
Long will the Chevalier Peitrich live in the memory of the party with whom he travelled up the Danube; and shared the captivity of the quarantaine. He did the honours of his country so gracefully and so graciously—his patience and his politeness were so untiring—and he was in himself so agreeable and intelligent a companion, that the greatest deprivation which we had been called upon to suffer since our departure from Constantinople, was that of his society.
Our influx of passengers from Neusatz wasconsiderable; and for the first time since I left the Bosphorus, I found myself compelled to share the after-cabin with two ladies; while the gentlemen’s party was increased by half a dozen young Austrian officers on their way to a new quarter; all very noisy, and very good-natured; great smokers, great talkers, and great card-players; and as many civilians; among whom was a lame, benevolent-looking, elderly Hungarian, who spent the whole of his time in reading Horace, and writing poetry.
Late in the afternoon we reached Illok; a fine town, crowned by the ruins of a very extensive castle, whose castellated remains stretch for a considerable distance along the brow of the hill. This noble property belongs to Il Principe Odeschak, the Pope’s nephew; and is distant only three miles from the Ancient Surnium.
At night-fall we passed another ruined pile, apparently a peel-tower; perched on an abrupt rock; which had a beautiful effect as the moonlight touched its mouldering walls. Near it stood a small castle, also in ruin, but we could not distinguish more than its outline, owing to the lateness of the hour, and the rapid gathering of the darkness. We anchored for the night at the small town of Vacova, having been seventeen hours under steam.
The following morning we passed three more feudal and picturesque remains; and about noonarrived off the mouth of the Drave, a considerable river dividing Sclavonia from Hungary Proper: and pouring forth its tributary waters in a noble stream to the all-absorbing Danube. But the cold was so extreme, and had come upon us so suddenly, that we were unable to keep the deck for any length of time—a circumstance which we regretted the less, however, as both the banks of the river had become flat, swampy, and uninteresting—the beautiful mountains of the Banût having given place in Hungary to the far-stretching and monotonous plain to which I have already alluded; and the Sclavonian shore being a mere line of sand and marsh-willows; with here and there a village scattered along its edge. In the evening at sunset we reached Mohasch, where the coals were wheeled on board by women, while groups of men lounged on the wooden pier watching their labours.
The steam was on at daybreak the following morning, and during the whole day we remained prisoners in the cabin, the cold being so intense as to drive even the sturdiest of the party below. The country continued to present one unvaried flat; and books, pens, and pencils, were in requisition until sunset; when we anchored a little below Földvar on the Hungarian side of the river, and remained there quietly until the morrow.
The evening of that morrow was to see us at Pesth; and the transition was so great from the overpowering heats to which we had for so many months been accustomed in the East, to the heavy and clinging damps of the Danube, that we resolved on abandoning the river at that point, and pursuing our journey by post to Vienna—a determination in which we were strengthened by the discovery that there was a detention of six days at Pesth, ere the vessel continued her voyage.
The approach to the city was between an avenue of floating mills, of nearly half a mile in length, producing an extraordinary effect to an unaccustomed eye; and, as the day was falling before we reached it, the myriad lights of the streets were reflected like lines of stars in the river-ripple. The situation of Pesth is beautiful; and the town itself well-built, cleanly, and cheerful. The Opera House is a handsome pile, and theartistesare far from contemptible; the Hotels are spacious and comfortable; the Palace of the Palatinate is finely seated on an eminence, and in extremely good taste; and there is abusiness lookabout the inhabitants as they hurry to and fro, which gives an air of animation to the scene essentially European.
A bridge of boats, four hundred yards in length, links the more modern city of Pesth to the ancient Hungarian capital of Buda on theopposite shore, and now called Offen. The hill of Blocksburg on this bank of the Danube is crowned by an observatory; and the gently undulating heights which hem in the town, on the south and east sides, are covered with vineyards, and celebrated for the superior quality of their produce.
We left Pesth in the afternoon, two hours later than we had intended, owing to the difficulties started with regard to our luggage, but these were ultimately overcome by the potent argument with which English travellers generally contrive to carry a point. When we issued from the gate of theJägerhornin our heavy and lumbering carriage, we were infinitely amused by the appearance of the postillion; a youth of about eighteen, who wore a sort of hussar jacket, with a small bugle hung about his neck; jack boots, and a formidable cocked-hat and feather. We travelled, however, at a tolerable pace; and, as we bade adieu to the Hungarian Capital, and saw the laughing vineyards spreading away into the distance, we congratulated ourselves on our emancipation from the damps and delays of the river-voyage; even purchased as it was by the fatigue of six-and-thirty hours of German posting.
A few words may now close the Volume. I had believed that I should rejoice when my task was ended; but it is not so. I cannot partfrom the reader who has lingered with me in strange lands without a feeling of regret; and, as I look back upon the pages that I have written, and the scenes that I have sketched; a heaviness of heart comes over me, as though I were looking upon the face of a dead friend. As I traced the one and the other, the images of the past rose up before me; and, even although the vividity of each was lost, enough yet remained to me; for there was still a tie, though every hour weakened it. May I be permitted to pursue the melancholy fancy that I have conjured up? I have been as one who watched a death-couch; clinging to the fast-failing remnant of that which once was bright, and was soon to pass away.
My vigils now are ended. The pleasant spell is broken; I turn my face towards Mecca, and remember my pilgrimage; but the distant landscape is veiled in mist.
The Propontis is but a memory; the glorious Bosphorus is seen only in a dream; the “Sea of Storms” no longer bears the roar of its breakers to my ear; and the Danube rolls along in sullen majesty, bathing rock and mountain, islet, and city, in its proud waters; but I ride not upon its tide.
It is midnight. The tall houses of a dense city rise before me; the hum of many voices comes upon the wind; a bright firelock flashes in theguard-fire; a stern voice challenges the strangers as they pass; the jaded horses, conscious of approaching rest, put forth their failing power; and ere many moments pass, the heavy carriage rattles under the arched gateway of the Stadt-London in Vienna.
1Professional Story-tellers.
1Professional Story-tellers.
2Street-porter.
2Street-porter.
3It is an extraordinary coincidence that at the moment in which this work is passing through the press, intelligence has arrived in Europe of the disgrace of this hitherto-favoured individual: the prostration of a life-long ambition.
3It is an extraordinary coincidence that at the moment in which this work is passing through the press, intelligence has arrived in Europe of the disgrace of this hitherto-favoured individual: the prostration of a life-long ambition.
4It is not without pain that I have, on passing my work through the press, to record the death of this amiable and gifted man. He perished by Plague a few weeks subsequently to our departure for England.
4It is not without pain that I have, on passing my work through the press, to record the death of this amiable and gifted man. He perished by Plague a few weeks subsequently to our departure for England.
5Some of the more distinguished harems have their arabas drawn by oxen of so pale a colour as to be almost white: and their sleek skins are painted all over in patches of orange colour, which give them a most extraordinary appearance.
5Some of the more distinguished harems have their arabas drawn by oxen of so pale a colour as to be almost white: and their sleek skins are painted all over in patches of orange colour, which give them a most extraordinary appearance.
6The Eastern salutation.
6The Eastern salutation.
7Fate.
7Fate.
8Jasmin.
8Jasmin.
9The September of 1836.
9The September of 1836.
10I have again to record a plague-victim in this distinguished man; the intelligence of whose death has reached me since my return to England.
10I have again to record a plague-victim in this distinguished man; the intelligence of whose death has reached me since my return to England.
11Since our return to England, we have learnt that, for political reasons, the Austrian Government have withdrawn, or at least suspended, their assistance to this undertaking; as well as discountenanced the formation of the canals destined to perfect the navigation of the Danube.
11Since our return to England, we have learnt that, for political reasons, the Austrian Government have withdrawn, or at least suspended, their assistance to this undertaking; as well as discountenanced the formation of the canals destined to perfect the navigation of the Danube.
THE END.
LONDON:F. SHOBERL, JUN., LEICESTER STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE.