On the broad steps of the Vatican And beneath the marble columns Tall Swiss halberdiers are walking To and fro in keeping watch there. Clanging through the hall the echo Of their heavy tread is ringing. To the gray old corporal turning Speaks a youthful soldier sadly: "Fine, indeed, and proud we Swiss are, And I see no other soldiers In the streets of Rome as jaunty As we look with our cuirasses, In the black, red, yellow doublet. Many burning glances shyly From the windows fall upon us; But the heart is wildly yearning Homeward, homeward for the mountains, As at Strasburg on the bulwarks When the Alpine horn was blowing. Willingly would I give up all, Earnest money, silver scudi, E'en the Holy Father's blessing, E'en the wine of Orvieto Which pearls sweetly in the goblet, Could I once again be chasing Boldly on their tracks the chamois O'er the rocks, near avalanches, On the craggy steep Pilatus; Or steal gently in the moonlight Over fragrant Alpine meadows To the faintly-lighted cottage, To the dairy-maid, the light-haired Kunigund of Appenzell; And then greet the golden sunrise With a joyful heartfelt jodel. Oh Saint Peter, thy fine music I should miss without regretting, Could I hear again the well-known Sharp shrill whistle of the marmot In its lonely Alpine cave!" On the steps of the cathedral Stood in crowds close packed together Elegant and idle dandies, Holding muster over all the Carriages and great state coaches Which came quickly driving up there. "Do you see the Eminenza With that round face like the full moon, With the double chin, he's leaning On the servant in rich livery? 'Tis the Cardinal Borghese. He would rather now be sitting Quiet in the Sabine mountains In the airy villa by the Rural beauty Donna Baldi. He's a man of taste, a scholar, Loves the classics, and especially Doth he love the true Bucolic."