"Oh softly blew the morning breeze" ["Chiavenna"] [poem]
CHIAVENNA. a
OH, softly blew the mounting breeze b
Through Chiavennaʼs myrtle trees,
And oʼer the green hillsʼ viny spread,
That rose in many a rounded head
Beneath the Alpine rocks of red.
System generated line number
5

And the fresh snow had fallʼn that night,
And sprinkled with its mantle white
The mountain‐amphitheatre
That rose around us far and near, 1
Though in such far confusion hurled
System generated line number
10

They looked to rule oʼer all the world;
And the white clouds seemed to immerse
Another ruined universe.