Yearning to drink that river, where it sent
Its first pure waters forth, serene and clear;
Till boldest captains sank, their courage spent,
And dying cried—“This stream all search defies,”—
But never would he tarry nor repent,
Nor pitched his banners, till before his eyes
Rose high as heaven in its secluded state
The mighty verdant wall of Paradise.
And lo! that stream, which early still and late
He had tracked upward, issued bright and clear