Page:Poems on Various Subjects - Coleridge (1796).djvu/106



OW long will ye round me be swelling, O ye blue-tumbling waves of the Sea? Not always in Caves was my dwelling, Nor beneath the cold blast of the Tree. Thro' the high-founding hills of Cathlóma In the steps of my Beauty I stray'd; The Warriors beheld Ninathóma, And they blessed the white-bosom'd Maid!