I Listen, But No Faculty Of Mine Avails Those Modulations To Detect, Which, Heard In Foreign Lands, The Swiss Affect With Tenderest Passion; Leaving Him To Pine (So Fame Reports) And Die, His Sweet-Breathed Kine Remembering, And Green Alpine Pastures Decked With Vernal Flowers. Yet May We Not Reject The Tale As Fabulous. Here While I Recline, Mindful How Others By This Simple Strain Are Moved, For Me Upon This Mountain Named Of God Himself From Dread Pre-Eminence, Aspiring Thoughts, By Memory Reclaimed, Yield To The Music'S Touching Influence; And Joys Of Distant Home My Heart Enchain.