rits to renew;
And whom the curious painter doth pursue
Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks.
And tracks thee dancing down thy water breaks.
_Brook! Whose Society the Poet Seeks_.
W. WORDSWORTH.

The roar of waters!--from the headlong height
Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice;
The fall of waters! rapid as the light
The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss;
The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss,
And boil in endless torture.
_Childe Harold, Canto IV_. LORD BYRON.

Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;
The swan on still St. Mary's Lake
Float double, swan and shadow!
_Yarrow Unvisited_. W. WORDSWORTH.

Under the cooling shadow of a stately elm,
Close sat I by a goodly river's side.
Where gliding streams the rocks did overwhelm;
A lonely place, with pleasures dignified.
I, that once loved the shady woods so well.
Now thought the rivers did the trees excel,
And if the sun would ever shine, there would I dwell.
_Contemplations_. ANNE BRADSTREET.

Two ways the rivers
Leap down to different seas, and as they roll
Grow deep and still, and their majestic presence
Becomes a benefaction to the towns
They visit, wandering silently among them,
Like patriarchs old among their shining tents.
_Christus: The Golden Legend, Pt. V_ H.W. LONGFELLOW.

Sweet Teviot! on thy silver tide
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willowed shore.
_Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto IV_. SIR W. SCOTT.

Is it not better, then, to be alone.
And love Earth only for its earthly sake?
By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone
Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake...?
_Childe Harold, Canto III_. LORD BYRON.

WATERS--WEALTH.

You leave us; you will see the Rhine,
And those fair hills I sailed below,
When I was there with him; and go
By summer belts of wheat and vine.
_In Memoriam, XCVII_. A. TENNYSON.

There is a hill beside the silver Thames,
Shady with birch and beech and odorous pine;
And brilliant underfoot with thousand gems,
Steeply the thickets to his floods decline.
_There is a Hill beside the Silver Thames_. R.S. BRIDGES.

The torrent roared; and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside,
And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
_Julius Caesar, Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

That was the River.