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resplendent in the upper air. So from my life may all dark clouds depart! So may I come unscathed from Fate's worst blows! Yet with your strength, O Mountains, let my heart Retain, as well, the sweetness of the rose. AT SUNSET Belov'd Meran, supremely fair! With joy I greet thy peaks anew, And quaff again the crystal air That fills thy snow-rimmed bowl of blue. Once more through miles of trellised vines The purple bloom of vintage glows; Once more amid my palms and pines I breathe the perfume of the rose. Once more, as snow-crests far and wide Flush crimson in the Alpine glow, I sit and muse at eventide On Roman days of long ago. Across the valley, steeped in light, Uplifted toward the western skies, And flanked by many a snow-crowned height, The stately "Roman Terrace" lies; Whose fair expanse hath been a stage Where actors for two thousand years Have played, by turns, in every age Their varying roles of smiles and tears. Still through its mighty Vintschgau door The sunset streams in floods of gold; Still winding o'er its emerald floor, The river sparkles as of old. I watch the distant torrent leap From ledge to ledge, yet hear no sound; A ghostly path it seems, whose deep, Swift channel cleaves enchanted ground. Beside its waves, whose glittering spray Begems the gorge its flood hath worn, Rome's conquering legions made their way A score of years ere Christ was born. On yonder mound where frowns the wood, And curves the road with steep incline, A temple to Diana stood Before the age of Antonine. Near Schloss Tyrol's dismantled frame I see the ancient watchtower stand, Whence Caesar's guards with smoke or flame Flashed signals into Switzerland. And, nearer yet, Forst's stately walls Loom grandly from the darkening moor, Where still a dungeon-keep recalls The last Tyrolean Troubadour. Belov'd Meran! the splendid dower That Nature gave to South Tyrol Cannot alone explain thy power To captivate both mind and soul; I love thy sunshine, fruits and flowers, I love thy mountain-peaks sublime, But, best of all, thine aged towers,-- The ivied proteges of Time. Thus favored, while my sun of life Moves calmly toward a cloudless west, I crave no more the New World's strife And ceaseless turmoil of unrest; Content, within my garden walls, To let the Present's uproar cease, While on my tranquil spirit falls The Past's sweet benison of peace. POST NUBES LUX
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