O how lovely woods and fields lay! Green meads in the narrow valley, Straw-thatched huts, low-roofed and mossy. And the modest village steeple; Deep below, where dusky forests Stretch along unto the lowlands, Like a long bright streak of silver, Takes the Rhine his westward course. Far off from the island glisten Battlements and lofty houses, And the minster's two tall spires; While beyond, in misty distance Shining, rise up unto Heaven Snowy peaks of giant mountains, Guardians of Helvetia's soil. As the pallid ardent thinker's Eye doth glow and cheek doth redden, When a thought, new and creative, Through his brain has flashed like lightning, So the golden light of evening Glows upon the Alpine Giants. (Do they dream of throes of labour Which their mother-earth of old felt, When they from her womb were bursting?) From the horse got off our rider, To a pine-tree stump he bound it, Gazed in wonder at the landscape, Spoke no word, but shouting tossed up In the air his pointed cocked hat, And began to blow a cheering Joyous tune upon his trumpet. To the Rhine it bore a greeting, Over toward the Alps it floated, Merry now, then full of feeling, Like a prayer devout and solemn, Then again quite roguish, joyful. Now trari-trara resounded, Echo's voice her plaudits sending From the bosom of the forest. Fair it was o'er hill and valley, But fair also to behold him, As he in the deep snow standing Lightly on his horse was leaning; Now and then a golden sunbeam Glory shed on man and trumpet, In the background gloomy fir-trees, Farther down among the meadows Rang his tunes out not unheeded! There was walking then the worthy Pastor of the neighbouring village, Who the snow-drifts was examining, Which, fast melting with the surging Waters rising o'er the meadows, Threatened to destroy the grass there. Plunged in thought, he deeply pondered How to ward off this great danger. Round him bounded, loudly barking, His two white and shaggy dogs.