Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/325

 Beam on the purged eye, or if Diseasing Realms the, wild of Thought, Scatter new Frenzies on the infected Throng, Thou Both inspiring and predooming Both, Fit and best, of perfect End: Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven!"

And first a Landscape rose, More wild, and waste, and desolate, than where The white bear, drifting on a field of ice, Howls to her sundered cubs with piteous rage And savage agony.