Solitude In September.

    O BEATA SOLITUDO; O SOLA BEATITUDO.

    (Inscription in the Grounds of Burg Birseck, near Basel.)


    Sweet Solitude where dost thou linger?
        When and where shall I look in thy face?
    Feel the soft magic touch of thy finger,
        The glow of thy silent embrace?
    Stern Civilization has banished
        Thy charms to a region unknown;
    The spell of thy beauty has vanished -
        Sweet Solitude, where hast thou flown?

    I have sought thee on pampas and prairie,
        By blue lake and bluer crevasse,
    On shores that are arid and airy,
        Lone peak, and precipitous pass.
    I have sought thee, sweet Solitude, ever
        Regardless of peril and pain;
    But in spite of my utmost endeavour
        I have sought thee, fair charmer, in vain.

    To the Alps, to the Alps in September,
        Unconducted by Cook, did I rush;
    Full well even now I remember
        How my heart with emotion did gush.
    Here at least in these lonely recesses
        With thee I shall cast in my lot;
    Shall feel thy endearing caresses,
        Forgetting all else and forgot.

    But I met a young couple "proposing"
    On the top of the sunny Languard;
    I surprised an old gentleman dozing,
        "Times" in hand, on the heights of Fort Bard.
    In the fir woods of sweet Pontresina
        Picnic papers polluted the walks;
    On the top of the frosty Bernina
        I found a young mountain of - corks.

    I trod, by the falls of the Handeck,
        On the end of a penny cigar;
    As I roamed in the woods above Landeck
        A hair-pin my pleasure did mar:
    To the Riffel in vain I retreated,
        Mr. Gaze and the Gazers were there;
    On the top of the Matterhorn seated
        I picked up a lady's back hair!

    From the Belle Vue in Thun I was hunted
        By "'Arry" who wished to play pool;
    On the Col du Bonhomme I confronted
        The whole of a young ladies' school.
    At Giacomo's Inn in Chiesa
        I was asked to take shares in a mine;
    With an agent for "Mappin's new Razor"
        I sat down at Baveno to dine.

    On the waves of Lake Leman were floating
        Old lemons (imagine my feelings!),
    The fish in Lucerne were all gloating
        On cast-away salads and peelings;
    And egg-shells and old bones of chicken
        On the shore of St. Moritz did lie:
    My spirit within me did sicken -
        Sweet Solitude, where shall I fly?

    Disconsolate, gloomy, and undone
        I take in the "Dilly" my place;
    By Zurich and Basel to London
        I rush, as if running a race.
    My quest and my troubles are over;
        As I drive through the desolate street
    To my Club in Pall Mall, I discover
        Sweet Solitude's summer retreat.