Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/310

274 A sharer in thy fierce and far delight,—

A portion of the tempest and of thee!

How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea,

And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!

And now again 'tis black,—and now, the glee

Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth,

As if they did rejoice o'er a young Earthquake's birth.

XCIV.

Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between

Heights which appear as lovers who have parted

In hate, whose mining depths so intervene,

That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted:

Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted,

Love was the very root of the fond rage