Page:Poems on Various Subjects - Coleridge (1796).djvu/126

 Or soar aloft to be the , And gaze upon her with a thousand eyes!

As when the Savage, who his drowsy frame Had bask'd beneath the Sun's unclouded flame, Awakes amid the troubles of the air, The skiey deluge, and white lightning's glare— Aghast he scours before the tempest's sweep, And sad recalls the funny hour of sleep:— So tost by storms along Life's wild'ring way Mine eye reverted views that cloudless day, When by my native brook I wont to rove While Hope with kisses nurs'd the Infant Love.

Dear native brook! like, so placidly Smoothing thro' fertile fields thy current meek!