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Updated: June 19, 2025
And now the whole chain, from the snowy dome of the Ortelles in the far-off Tyrol, to the beauteous pyramid of Monte Viso in the south-western sky, is before you in its noble sweep of many hundreds of miles, with thousands of snowy peaks, amid which, pre-eminent in glory, rises Monte Rosa. Turning to the south, you have the purple summits of the Apennines rising above the plain.
At last all that remained to the Vaudois were only three valleys at the foot of Monte Viso; and if we examine their structure, we will find them arranged with special reference to the war the Church was here called to wage. The three valleys are the Val Martino, the Val Angrona, and the Val Lucerna. Nothing could be simpler than their arrangement; at the same time, nothing could be stronger.
A wall of burning peaks, from two to three hundred miles in length, rose along the horizon. Eve, with her purple shadows, drew on; and I left the mountains under a sky of vermilion, with Monte Viso covering with its shadow the honoured dust that sleeps around it, and pointing with its stony finger to that sky whither the spirits of the martyred Vaudois have now ascended.
The Alps were all there now cold, unreal, stretching like a phantom line of snowy peaks, from the sharp pyramids of Monte Viso and the Grivola in the west to the distant Bernina and the Ortler in the east. Supreme among them towered Monte Rosa queenly, triumphant, gazing down in proud pre-eminence, as she does when seen from any point of the Italian plain. There is no mountain like her.
These seven streams, whose mouths are crowded into less than eighty miles of coast, drain an area which, reckoning from Monte Viso to the Terglon Alps the source of the Ysonzo must be four hundred and fifty miles in length, and may average two hundred miles in breadth, and this area is bordered on one side by the highest mountains in Europe, snow-covered, glacier-strewn, wrinkled and twisted into a thousand valleys and narrow defiles, each of which sends down its river or its rivulet to swell the great outpour.
La bavisella che va soffiando Con quel bel viso di quando in quando I biondi boccoli te li fa far Lisetta, in gondola ti voi menar? The markets are rich with colour and well looked after. A dozen or more, men and women, will bring in their wares on a cart, 10 or 15 ft. long, each putting a hand to the work. The city existed in antiquity. Strabo knew it as a Carnian market-town.
Inferno, XXXIII. 94. And the exclamation of one of these poor "wretches of the frozen crust" is an exclamation that Shakespeare might have written: "Lift from mine eyes the rigid veils, that I May vent the sorrow which impregns my heart." "Levatemi dal viso i duri veli, Si ch' io sfoghi il dolor che il cor m' impregna." Ib. 112. There is nothing in Mr.
I wish you had known him. "You remember, we talked of his fencing with me daily. 'I love the fathers who do that. You said it. He will love you. Death is the shadow not life. I went to his tomb. It was more to think of Brescia than of him. Ashes are only ashes; tombs are poor places. My soul is the power. "If I saw the Monte Viso this morning, I saw right over your head when you were sleeping.
I comforted her as well as I might. Joy and exultation, were mine, to possess, and to save her. Yet not to excite fresh agitation in her, "per non turbar quel bel viso sereno," I curbed my delight.
Coni, a neat arcaded town, deserves mention for the beauty of its situation, and the fine Alpine panorama which it commands. The glittering pinnacle of Monte Viso, is the most striking feature through this and the following day's journey. June 5. Breakfasted at Savigliano, a large flourishing town; slept at Carignan, and reached Turin to breakfast next day. June 6.
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