Feeding her cows the mountain peaks between.’
‘’Tis true,’ I said, ‘though to betray was mean.
My Pyrenean verses will you hear,
Though not about that peasant girl, I fear.’
‘Begin,’ they said, ‘the sweet bucolic song,
Though it to other maids and other cows belong.’
Currente calamo.
Quick, painter, quick, the moment seize
Amid the snowy Pyrenees;
More evanescent than the snow,