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 agèd towers,—
The ivied protégés 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
Sink, sullen rear-guard of the storm,
Behind the Laugen's snowy crest!
Already Rotheck's lordly form
Stands spotless in the radiant west;
Blow, winter wind, and clarify
Our crystal air, our sapphire sky!
Shine, Sun God! Give us life once more!
Too long have clouds concealed thy face;
Give to Meran the look she wore,
When to her beauty, light, and grace
I gladly yielded heart and soul,
And made my home in fair Tyrol!
Stupendous source of life and light!
As in thy warmth my pulses thrill,
Before thy glory and thy might
I feel myself a Pagan still,
And in my spirit's inmost shrine
I half adore thee as divine.