Receives its fugitive waves. Cleaving new paths,
The graceful windings of its parent vale
It scorns to follow—but ’neath arches deep,
Rolling with haughty port, there gains a name
As sounding as its surge. Still onward rushing
With bounds impetuous; bearing in its path
The ships, the tumult, and the mire of cities!
Each stream that swells its course another change—
Till swoln with waters various and corrupt,
Troubled though great, its being vain resigning,