Upon the glistening leaden roof Of the new Pile, the sunlight shines; The stream goes leaping by. The hills are clothed with pines sun-proof; 'Mid bright green fields, below the pines, 5 Stands the Church on high. What Church is this, from men aloof?-- 'Tis the Church of Brou.
At sunrise, from their dewy lair Crossing the stream, the kine are seen 10 Round the wall to stray-- The churchyard wall that clips the square Of open hill-sward fresh and green Where last year they lay. But all things now are order'd fair 15 Round the Church of Brou.
On Sundays, at the matin-chime,° °17 The Alpine peasants, two and three, Climb up here to pray; Burghers and dames, at summer's prime, 20 Ride out to church from Chambery,° °21 Dight° with mantles gay. °22 But else it is a lonely time Round the Church of Brou.
On Sundays, too, a priest doth come 25 From the wall'd town beyond the pass, Down the mountain-way; And then you hear the organ's hum, You hear the white-robed priest say mass, And the people pray. 30 But else the woods and fields are dumb Round the Church of Brou.
And after church, when mass is done, The people to the nave repair Round the tomb to stray; 35 And marvel at the Forms of stone, And praise the chisell'd broideries° rare-- °37 Then they drop away. The princely Pair are left alone In the Church of Brou. 40
So rest, for ever rest, O princely Pair! In your high church, 'mid the still mountain-air, Where horn, and hound, and vassals never come. Only the blessed Saints are smiling dumb, From the rich painted windows of the nave, 5 On aisle, and transept,° and your marble grave; °6 Where thou, young Prince! shalt never more arise From the fringed mattress where thy Duchess lies, On autumn-mornings, when the bugle sounds, And ride across the drawbridge with thy hounds 10 To hunt the boar in the crisp woods till eve; And thou, O Princess! shalt no more receive, Thou and thy ladies, in the hall of state, The jaded hunters with their bloody freight, Coming benighted to the castle-gate. 15
So sleep, for ever sleep, O marble Pair! Or, if ye wake, let it be then, when fair On the carved western front a flood of light Streams from the setting sun, and colours bright Prophets, transfigured Saints, and Martyrs brave, 20 In the vast western window of the nave, And on the pavement round the Tomb there glints A chequer-work of glowing sapphire-tints, And amethyst, and ruby--then unclose Your eyelids on the stone where ye repose, 25 And from your broider'd pillows lift your heads, And rise upon your cold white marble beds; And, looking down on the warm rosy tints, Which chequer, at your feet, the illumined flints, Say: _What is this? we are in bliss--forgiven--_ 30 _Behold the pavement of the courts of Heaven!_ Or let it be on autumn nights, when rain Doth rustlingly above your heads complain On the smooth leaden roof, and on the walls Shedding her pensive light at intervals 35 The moon through the clere-story windows shines, And the wind washes through the mountain-pines. Then, gazing up 'mid the dim pillars high, The foliaged marble forest° where ye lie, °39 _Hush_, ye will say, _it is eternity!_ 40 _This is the glimmering verge of Heaven, and these The columns of the heavenly palaces!_ And, in the sweeping of the wind, your ear The passage of the Angels' wings will hear, And on the lichen-crusted leads° above °45 The rustle of the eternal rain of love.