Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/170



! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams,
 * In arched groves, the youthful poet's choice;

Nor while half-list'ning, mid delicious dreams,
 * To harp and song from lady's hand and voice;

Nor yet while gazing in sublimer mood
 * On cliff, or cataract, in alpine dell;

Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-weed strew'd,
 * Framing wild fancies to the ocean's swell;

Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he sings,
 * And sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, Pity, hark!

Now mounts, now totters on the Tempest's wings,
 * Now groans, and shivers, the replunging Bark!