O Alban Moutains, sing ye smilingly
The epithalamium; green Tusculum
Sing thou; and sing, O fertile Tivoli!
Whilst I from the Janiculum look down
With wonder on the city's pictured form—
A mighty ship, launched toward the world's dominion.
O ship, whose poop rising on high attains
The infinite, bear with thee on thy passage
My soul unto the shores of mystery!
Let me, when fall those twilights radiant
With the white jewels of the coming night,
Quietly linger on the Flaminian Way;
Then may the hour supreme, in fleeing, brush
With silent wing my forehead, while I pass
Unknown through this serenity of peace,
Pass to the Councils of the Shades, and see
Once more the lofty spirits of the Fathers
Conversing there beside the sacred river.
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