No More Learning

365

When, from the sunny breast of open seas,
And bays with myrtle fringed, the southern breeze
Comes on to gladden April with the sight
Of green isles           on each snow-clad height; [93]
When shouts and lowing herds the valley fill, 370
And louder torrents stun the noon-tide hill,
[94] The pastoral Swiss begin the cliffs to scale,
Leaving to silence the deserted vale; [95]
And like the Patriarchs in their simple age
Move, as the verdure leads, from stage to stage; [96] 375
High and more high in summer's heat they go, [97]
And hear the rattling thunder far below;
Or steal beneath the mountains, half-deterred,
Where huge rocks tremble to the bellowing herd.