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Within the surface of the fleeting river
The wrinkled image of the city lay, Immoveably unquiet, and for ever
It trembles, but it never fades away; Go to the [.
1 You, being changed, will tind it then as now.
The chasin in which the sun has sunk is shut
By darkest barriers of enormous cloud, Like mountain over mountain huddled-but
Growing and moving upwards in a crowd, And over it a space of watery blue, Which the keen evening star is shining through.
From her couch of snows In the Acrocerauvian mountains,
From cloud and from crag,
With many a jag, Shepherding her bright fountains.
She leapt down the rocks
With her rainbow locks
Her steps paved with green
The downward ravine
And gliding and springing,
She went, ever singing,
The Earth seemed to love her,
And Heaven smiled above her, As she lingered towards the deep.
Then Alpheus bold,
On his glacier cold,
And opened a chasm
In the rocks ;-with the spasm All Erymanthus shook.
And the black south wind
It concealed behind The urns of the silent snow,
And earthquake and thunder
Did rend in sunder The tars of the springs below:
The beard and the hair
Of the river God were Seen through the torrent's sweep,
As he followed the light
Of the fleet nymph's flight To the brink of the Dorian deep.
“Oh, save me ! Oh, guide me!
And bid the deep hide me, For he grasps me now by the hair!”
The loud Ocean heard,
To its blue depth stirred, And divided at her prayer;
And under the water
The Earth's white daughter Fled like a sunny beam;
Behind her descended,
Her billows unblended With the brackish Dorian stream:
Like a gloomy stain
On the emerald main
A dove to its ruin Down the streams of the cloudy wind.
Under the bowers
Where the Ocean Powers Sit ou their pearled thrones,
Through the coral woods
Of the weltering floods, Over heaps of unvalued stones :
Through the dim beams
Which amid the streams Weave a net-work of coloured light;
And under the caves,
Where the shadowy waves Are as green as the forest’s night:
Outspeeding the shark,
And the sword-fish dark, Under the ocean foam,
And up through the rifts
Of the mountain clifts They passed to their Dorian home.
And now from their fountains
In Enna's mountains, Down one vale where the morning basks,
Like friends once parted
Grown single-hearted, They ply their watery tasks.
At sun-rise they leap
From their cradles steep In the cave of the shelving hill;
At noon-tide they flow
Through the woods helow And the meadows of Asphodel;
And at night they sleep
In the rocking deep
Like spirits that lie
In the azure sky
I DREAMED that, as I wandered by the way,
Bare winter suddenly was changed to springs, And gentle odours led ıny steps astray,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
There grew pied wind- flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated Power that never sets;
Faint oxlips ; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
Green cow-bind and the moonlight-coloured May, And cherry blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray ; And flowers azure, black and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
And nearer to the river's trembling edge
There grew broad flag flowers, purple prankt with white, And starry river buds among the sedge,
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
With moonlight beams of their own watery light ;
Methought that of these visionary flowers
I inade a nosegay, bound in such a way
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay,
LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR.
I ARISE from dreams of thee