VIII RUIT HORA
O green and silent solitudes far from the rumours of men!
Hither come to meet us true friends divine, O Lidia,
Wine and love.
O tell me why the sea far under the flaming Hesperus
Sends such mysterious moanings; and what songs are these, O Lidia,
The pines are chanting?
See with what longing the hills stretch their arms to the setting sun!
The shadow lengthens and holds them; they seem to be asking
A last kiss, O Lidia!
Odi Barbare.