Classic Poem

Thou, who erst on Ætna's top,
In dreaming fancy, sat,
And looked on wide Sicania's plains,
Adorned with fruits and flocks and golden grain,
Where Ceres, Flora, Pan, in mingled dance combined,
Led on the jocund hours to music's sweetest breath:
And as the sun at height of noon,
From heaven's blue canopy, effused
His living radiance o'er the earth,
Shining on mountains capped with snow and ice,
Or blackened with a waving wilderness
Of forests, that for ages long had braved
The shock of tempests and the war of winds,
When rushing from the dark Liparian caves they fly,
And sweep o'er land and sea,
Upturning from its lowest bed,
In curling foam, old Ocean's rolling waves;
Glittering on sunny rocks and hills,
Where purple vineyards teem with nectared juice, the fount of joy,
On hillocks sweet with thyme and dittany,
Where Hybla's murmuring bees, from laughing flowers,
Ambrosia cull, like molten gold in hue,
Translucent as the crystal wave,
That, in Ortygia's sea-surrounded isle,
From Arethusa wells;

Glowing on plains perfumed with roses, where the shepherd's flute
An amorous descant warbled, while the bleat of flocks
And low of herds came floating on the wind;
And pouring all its kindling power
On meadows, where the reed
Shook and snowy lilies bloomed.