Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/63

55 "Dost thou presume my course to block?

Off, off! or, puny Thing!

I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock

To which thy fibres cling."

The Flood was tyrannous and strong;

The patient Briar suffer'd long,

Nor did he utter groan or sigh,

Hoping the danger would be pass'd:

But seeing no relief, at last

He venturd to reply.

"Ah!" said the Briar, "Blame me not!

Why should we dwell in strife?

We who in this, our natal spot,

Once liv'd a happy life!

You stirr'd me on my rocky bed—

What pleasure thro' my veins you spread!

The Summer long from day to day

My leaves you freshen'd and bedew'd;

Nor was it common gratitude

That did your cares repay.