Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/250

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Within its depths, the while its floor

With filthy scum is surfaced o’er.

No purling brook, no gentle tide

It floweth in, but billows gride

Tumultuous, with a dreadful roar

Sounding across from shore to shore.

Like to the threatening thunder’s crash

When heaven and earth together clash.

Above these ruffling waves unclean,

Kind Zephyr’s wing hath ne’er been seen

To poise or lightly kiss the stream,

But harshly doth the north wind scream

In triumph there, and buffeteth

The surface dark with angry breath.

Its force hath dug dim ravines deep,

Whence towering mountains all a-heap

Rise up on either side, and wage

Unceasing war with furious rage

Of wind and storm, which never stay

Their combat fierce through night or day.

Along the bank is spread a crowd

Of wretched folk, whose wailings loud

Burden the air, while out their eyes

Gush forth their griefs and miseries.

For, ever they, convulsed with fear,

Behold the engulfing water near,

And if within it one should dip

His body till above the hip

It touch his waist, then swift, below

Its surface dragged, above him flow

The raging waters. But upcast

Are some, above whose heads have passed