32
HYMNS FOR CHILDHOOD.
Nor differ less your forms, your flight,
Your dwellings hid from hostile sight,
And the wild haunts ye love;
Birds of the gentle beak!*[1] how dear
Your wood-note, to the wanderer's ear,
In shadowy vale or grove!
Far other scenes, remote, sublime,
Where swain or hunter may not climb,
The mountain-eagle seeks;
Alone he reigns, a monarch there,
Scarce will the chamois' footstep dare
Ascend his Alpine peaks.
- ↑ * The Italians call all singing birds, birds of the gentle beak.
