Frances Anne Kemble - A Summons lyrics

THE FIRST SNOW MOUNTAIN SEEN FROM A SUNNY HILL-SIDE, NEAR ROCCA PRIORI, IN THE AUTUMN OF 1846 Look, love, to yonder mountain's brow: Seest thou that beckoning hand of snow? Stern Winter dares no farther come, But waves me towards his northern home. The sun upon this glad earth pours His blessing, in warm golden showers; Down the steep path, with busy hum, The black-eyed sturdy peasants come; Patches of colours bright and gay Hang o'er their cheeks of ruddy brown, Lound laugh and jest make light their way, From rock-perched hamlets winding down. The jogging mule goes clattering light His wooden tubs to seek their freight; While others, with their vintage load, Strain up the steep and stony road, And, all the sunny paths along, Snatches of loud monotonous song Come down from hill and up from glade, And through the broad-leaved chestnut shade; From vineyards where a merry band Pile the ripe treasure of the land, Amber and amethyst shining through Soft purple bloom and sparkling dew. Dark white-veined glittering ivy, wed To wreaths of vine leaves touched with red, Hang from the brown brows of the rocks,— A garland meet for Bacchus' locks. The fields, the woods, the air, the ground, Smell of the vintage all around, And from the sunny earth and sea Rises a shout of jubilee. From this steep road look down, where grow The chestnut forests deep below; Behold how far beneath our feet The huge wood billows spread and meet— A waving sea of noble trees, Rolling their green crests in the breeze; Mark the bright vale, the mountain chain, The distant lines of that great plain, Where Rome, eternal Empress, sits Beneath the cloudless li ht, that fits The lordliest and the loveliest scene Time e'er shall see—Time yet hath seen! O land of glorious memories, O land as fair as Paradise, O thou beloved, by whom I stand, Straining in mine thy kindred hand, Farewell!—on yonder mountain's brow I see a beckoning hand of snow; Stern winter dares no nearer come, But waves me towards his northern home.