Robert Southey

Turner, thy pencil brings to mind a day
When from Laveuo and the Beuscer Hill
I over Lake Yerbanus held my way
In pleasant fellowship, with wind at will;
Smooth were the waters wide, the sky serene,
And our hearts gladdened with the joyful scene;—

Joyful, for all things ministered delight,—
The lake and land, the mountains and the vales;
The Alps their snowy summits reared in light,
Tempering with gelid breath the summer gales;
And verdant shores and woods refreshed the eve,
That else had ached beneath that brilliant sky.

To that elaborate island were we bound,
Of yore the scene of Borromean pride,—
Folly's prodigious work; where all around,
Under its coronet, and self-belied,
Look where you will, you cannot choose but see
The obtrusive motto's proud "Humility!"

Ear off the Borromean saint was seen,
Distinct, though distant, o'er his native town,
Where his Colossus with, benignant mien
Looks from its station on Arona down;
To it the inland sailor lifts his eyes,
From the wide lake, when perilous storms arise.

But no storm threatened on that summer day;
The whole rich scene appeared for joyance made;
With many a gliding bark the mere was gay,
The fields and groves in all their wealth arrayed:
I could have thought the sun beheld with smiles
Those towns and palaces and populous isles.

From fair Arona, even on such a day,
When gladness was descending like a shower,
Great painter, did thy gifted eye survey
The splendid scene ; and, conscious of its power,
Well hath thine hand inimitable given
The glories of the lake and land and heaven.