Excelsior

Llega de noche á una aldea
Del Alpe, un joven; flamea
En la bandeja que empina
Esta cifra peregrina:
¡Excelsior!

Triste su faz; su mirada
Brilla cual desnuda espada;
Su voz de clarín el viento
Hiere con extraño acento:
¡Excelsior!

Hogares dichosos mira,
Donde gozo el fuego inspira:
Fantasmas la noche oscura
Fíngele en torno; y murmura:
¡Excelsior!

Dícele un viejo: "¡Detente!
¡Desbordado va el torrente,
Cerca la tormenta brama!"
Y él, con nuevo aliento, exclama:
¡Excelsior!

"Tu frente en mi seno posa,"
Ruégale doncella hermosa;
Fugaz lágrima reluce
En su ojo azul, y balbuce:
¡Excelsior!

Adelantándose al día
Su oración renuevan pía
Los monjes de San Bernardo,
y aun grita el doncel gallardo:
¡Excelsior!

Fiel mastín al joven yerto
Halló, de nieve cubierto;
La mano del infelice
Aferra el pendón que dice:
¡Excelsior!

Hermoso yace, aunque inerte,
A la luz que el alba vierte,
Y esta voz cual meteoro
Baja del celeste coro,
¡Excelsior!

Collection: 
Spanish
1827
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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