That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies,—
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no spot of all the world my own. 30
Ev’n now, where Alpine solitudes ascend,
I sit me down a pensive hour to spend;
And, plac’d on high above the storm’s career,
Look downward where an hundred realms appear:
Lakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide, 35
The pomp of kings, the shepherd’s humbler pride.