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430 POEMS.
He watched its rushing conrse, he saw it battle
With toppling crags, with broken forest stems,
Yea, even with its own waves, with its own might;
He saw the foam dashed up to highest heaven,
He heard the thunder in its deep caves growling ;
He saw, —and gravely shaking his wise head
With disapproving mien, demanded: “ Wherefore,
And to what end, is all this toil and tumult?
What frenzy goads thee on to such fierce warfare,
Such strife for life and death with all around thee?
In this wild vortex thou dost lose thyself,
Thy calm, thy crystal brightness. Better far
In yonder silent, solitary valley,
Where thou didst glide serene “twixt shelter’d margins,
Reflecting every flower and tree that crowned them,
The craggy peaks, and lustrous vault of heaven!
Then thou wert clear and bright, and blue libellulas,
With emerald flashing wings, shot downward, rocking
On the broad leaves of silver water-lilies,
That, heaving, lay upon the crystal billow,
Calm as an infant in its mother’s arms;
Then in thy lap the golden sunbeams showered ;
The queen of night with her pale lustre kissed thee;
And blooming village maidens, gayly tripping,
Went down to fill their pitchers at thy waters,
And there the weary laborer quenched his thirst
With thankful spirit. Say, what would’st thou more?
Oh let thy life be spent in peaceful labors ;
Sweet is it thus to bless and to be blessed,
And then to sleep on flowry meadow’s breast!
Say, is not this enough?” Thus asked the sage;
But all regardless of his questions, onward
With headlong speed the cataract rushed impetuous,
Cleaving the rocks that barred its foaming current.
Yet one reply it made; even in that power
Which mighty spirits exercise, constraining
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