 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
137
THE RIVER.
Perspicuas volvens sine sordibus undas.
I trac'd it from its cradle—from the day
It left its Alpine solitudes, and so
Like to a bird on silver pinions borne,
Winding its path at will, through sun and shade,
Deep wood, or rock-bound desert, onward pass'd
Into the bosom of the vale, whence song
Of birds, from leafy thickets came.—Its stream
Unmix'd amid the alien waters flow'd;
Gliding between the crystal walls that rose
On either side—a river moving on
In virgin majesty, which never touch
Of earthy bondage knew; no banks upraised
Their limitary arms, but still it bore
Its unpolluted waters, pure and free,
As from their primal fountains to the main.
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