To the Divine Mountains

Blue glaciers, peaks of marble, granite, slate,
Moraines whose winds send blighting ruin through
The wheat and rye from Begle to Nethou;
Lakes, woods of shade and nest, steep crags serrate;

Lone caves, dark vales, where exiles desolate,
Sooner than crouch before the tyrant crew,
Wolf, chamois, eagle, bear, as comrades knew;
Abysses, torrents, cliffs, blest be your state!

From cruel town and prison when he flew,
Geminus, the slave, this cippus gave unto
The Mountains, sacred guards of liberty;

And on these silence-pulsing summits clear,
In this pure, boundless air's immensity,
A freeman's cry still falls upon mine ear.