In Google Books I found Poetry of the Magyars: preceded by a sketch of the language and literature of Hungary and Transylvania, translated by John Bowring, 1830.
Inside I found a poet named Emilius Buczi who was born in Kolosvar, Hungary. Kolosvar is today known as Cluj, Romania, and is nearby the town of Nagyalmas/Varalmas where my maternal grandfather was born.
Bowring wrote in his introduction:
Buczi is a native of Kolosvar—his poetry is of the classic character, which has grown out of his great devotion to the writers of Greece and Rome. He was professor of rhetoric at Nagy Szeben (Hermanstadt), but ill health compelled him to abandon his chair, and to retire for some years to private life. On his recovery he was appointed to the professorship of moral philosophy at Karoly Fejervar (Karlsburg), which occupies him at this hour.In the below poem the author writes about what may be a local forest.
The Forest
by Emilius Buczi.
Deep in the stillness of the solemn forest
Peace sings her hymns of solitude, Apollo !
While the light zephyrs, listening to the music,
Glide along slowly.
Through the green boughs what friendly spirits vibrate
Round the old roots what gentle streamlets murmur !
Brightening with influence full of joy and beauty
Life and its struggles.
I, when I look upon those lovely meadows—
Streams full of light—and hymn-impassioned songsters—
Forests and flowrets—feel that woe's oppression
Smites me no longer.
Shades of the forest! to your calm recesses
Pride never wends, nor passion. When the branches
Of your green trees are fluttering in the breezes,
Bear me their freshness.
Below you can read it straight from Google:
Sometimes I find poems about forests to be dark and depressing, but this one lifted my spirits. Maybe your ancestors walked in its woods.
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