GENEVA'S tranquil, azure lake
A river floweth through;
'Neath her old stones its way doth take,
With waters clear and blue.
From endless snows a torrent foams,
From hoary glacier gray;
Through mighty crags and rocky domes
It carves its rugged way.
In sombre gorge, whose bastioned walls
Scarce let the sunbeams through,
The gray and turbid torrent falls
Into the river blue.
On frothing crest the rivers rear,
With mad contention torn,
Their waters, both from peaceful mere