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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355518" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Peasant Of The Alps</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">FROM THE NOVEL OF CELESTINA. <br>WHERE cliffs arise by winter crown'd,<br>And through dark groves of pine around,<br>Down the deep chasms the snow-fed torrents foam,<br>Within some hollow, shelter'd from the storms,<br>The Peasant of the Alps his cottage forms,<br>And builds his humble, happy home.<br>Unenvied is the rich domain,<br>That far beneath him on the plain<br>Waves its wide harvests and its olive groves;<br>More dear to him his hut with plantain thatch'd,<br>Where long his unambitious heart attach'd,<br>Finds all he wishes, all he loves.<br>There dwells the mistress of his heart,<br>And Love , who teaches every art,<br>Has bid him dress the spot with fondest care;<br>When borrowing from the vale its fertile soil,<br>He climbs the precipice with patient toil, <br>To plant her favourite flowerets there.<br>With native shrubs, a hardy race,<br>There the green myrtle finds a place,<br>And roses there the dewy leaves decline;<br>While from the crags abrupt, and tangled steeps,<br>With bloom and fruit the Alpine berry peeps,<br>And, blushing, mingles with the vine.<br>His garden's simple produce stored,<br>Prepared for him by hands adored,<br>Is all the little luxury he knows.<br>And by the same dear hands are softly spread,<br>The Chamois' velvet spoil that forms the bed,<br>Where in her arms he finds repose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But absent from the calm abode,<br>Dark thunder gathers round his road,<br>Wild raves the wind, the arrowy lightnings flash,<br>Returning quick the murmuring rocks among,<br>His faint heart trembling as he winds along;<br>Alarm'd--he listens to the crash<br>Of rifted ice!--Oh, man of woe!<br>O'er his dear cot--a mass of snow,<br>By the storm sever'd from the cliff above,<br>Has fallen--and buried in its marble breast,<br>All that for him--lost wretch--the world possest,<br>His home, his happiness, his love!<br>Aghast the heart-struck mourner stands,<br>Glazed are his eyes--convulsed his hands,<br>O'erwhelming anguish checks his labouring breath;<br>Crush'd by despair's intolerable weight,<br>Frantic he seeks the mountain's giddiest height,<br>And headlong seeks relief in death.<br>A fate too similar is mine,<br>But I--in lingering pain repine,<br>And still my lost felicity deplore;<br>Cold, cold to me is that dear breast become<br>Where this poor heart had fondly fix'd its home,<br>And love and happiness are mine no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charlotte+Smith">Charlotte Smith</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355518" data-title="The Peasant Of The Alps de Charlotte Smith" data-description="FROM THE NOVEL OF CELESTINA. 
WHERE cliffs arise by winter crown'd,
And through dark groves of pine around,
Down the deep chasms the snow-fed torrents foam,
Within some hollow, shelter'd from the storms,
The Peasant of the Alps his cottage forms,
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