Childe Harold's pilgrimage : a romaunt . teerGrazes ; the purest god of gentle waters !And most serene of aspect, and most clear;Surely that stream was unprofaned by slaughters,A mirror and a bath for Beautys youngest daughters ! LXV1I. And on thy happy shore a Temple still,Of small and delicate proportion, keeps,Upon a mild declivity of hill,Its memory of thee ; beneath it sweepsThy currents calmness ; oft from out it leapsThe finny darter with the glittering scales,Who dwells and revels in thy glassy deej)s ;While, chance, some scatter d water-lily sailsDown where the shallower wave still te
Childe Harold's pilgrimage : a romaunt . teerGrazes ; the purest god of gentle waters !And most serene of aspect, and most clear;Surely that stream was unprofaned by slaughters,A mirror and a bath for Beautys youngest daughters ! LXV1I. And on thy happy shore a Temple still,Of small and delicate proportion, keeps,Upon a mild declivity of hill,Its memory of thee ; beneath it sweepsThy currents calmness ; oft from out it leapsThe finny darter with the glittering scales,Who dwells and revels in thy glassy deej)s ;While, chance, some scatter d water-lily sailsDown where the shallower wave still tells its bubbling tales. LXVIII, Pass not unblest the Genius of the place !If through the air a zephyr more sereneWin to the brow, tis his ; and if ye traceAlong his margin a more eloquent green,If on the heart the freshness of the sceneSprinkle its coolness, and from the dry dustOf weary life a moment lave it cleanWith Natures baptism,—tis to him ye mustPay orisons for this suspension of disgust. CANTO IV childe harolds pilgrimage 225. LXIX. The roar of waters !—from the headlong heightVelino cleaves the wave-worn precipice ;The fall of waters ! rapid as the light 2 L childe hakolds pilgrimage CANTO IV The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ;The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss,And boil in endless torture ; while the sweatOf their great agony, wrung out from thisTheir Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jetThat guard the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, LXX. And mounts in spray the skies, and thence againReturns in an unceasing shower, which round,With its uneniptied cloud of gentle rain,Is an eternal April to the ground,Making it all one emerald :—how profoundThe gulf! and how the giant elementFrom rock to rock leaps with delirious bound,Crushing the cliffs, which, downward worn and rentWith his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent. LXXI. To the broad column which rolls on, and showsMore like the fountain of an infant seaTorn from the womb of
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