ON HEARING THE "RANZ DES VACHES" ON THE TOP OF THE PASS OF ST. GOTHARD
I LISTEN--but no faculty of mine
Avails those modulations to detect,
Which, heard in foreign lands, the Swiss affect
With tenderest passion; leaving him to pine
(So fame reports) and die,--his sweet-breathed kine
Remembering, and green Alpine pastures decked
With vernal flowers. Yet may we not reject
The tale as fabulous.--Here while I recline,
Mindful how others by this simple Strain
Are moved, for me--upou this Mountain named
Of God himself from dread pre-eminence--
Aspiring thoughts, by memory reclaimed,
Yield to the Music's touching influence;
And joys of distant home my heart enchain.
William Wordsworth, escrito em 1820
terça-feira, 13 de março de 2012
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