Hark! 'tis a wild, a solitary cry,
Unheard till now beneath Italia's sky;
And well Italia's sons may shrink to hear
A cry, that fills all who have heard with fear,—
It is the Alpine wolf's terrific bay,
Roaming abroad ferocious for its prey:
Soon as the sun of earth its farewell takes,
The Alpine wolf his solitude forsakes,
And, like a demon, rushing to the plain,
Scatters the flock, and panic-strikes the swain.