In everlasting grandeur to the sky?
There rise the mountain peaks, here shines the lake;
Familiar scenes the beauteous picture make.
The "white-walled, distant town," glassed in the tide,
And on its breast the whiter sails still ride,
As when thine eye swept o'er the lovely view;
Thy glorious fancies and imagination grew
T' immortal verse, and with a nameless charm
Embalmed the scene for ages yet to come.
Others shall, deep in Chillon's dungeon drear,