Bears on his breast—proud vessels—swift and strong.
Nor from the meadow’s side
’Neath summer’s sun recedes his lessened tide.
Thou threatening all around
Dost foam and roar along thy troubled path;
In grandeur newly found—
Stunning the gazer with thy noisy wrath!
Yet foolish stream! not one
Of all thy boasted glories is thine own.
The smile of yonder sky