James Freeman Clarke

“ Helmed with snow, the Alpine giants at invaders look defiance,
Gazing over nearer summits, with a fixed, mysterious stare,
Down along the shaded ocean, on whose edge in tremulous motion
Floats an island, half-transparent, woven out of sea and air;—
⁠For such visions, shaped of air, are
⁠Frequent on our Riviera. ”

“ Eagle-like, gray Esa, clinging to its rocky perch, looks down;
And upon the mountain dim, ruined, shattered, stern, and grim,
Turbia sees us through the ages with its austere Roman frown,—
⁠While we climb, where cooler, rarer
⁠Breezes sweep the Riviera. ”