Their pendent shadows gliding down
By town and tower submerged below.
The hills sweep upward from the shore,
With villas, scattered, one by one,
Upon their wooded spurs, and lower,
Bellaggio, blazing in the sun.
And, dimly seen, a tangled mass
Of walls and woods, of light and shade,
Stands, beckoning up the Stetvio Pass,
Varenna, with its white cascade.