Thou fought'st against him-but hast vainly striven:
Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.
-Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft;
Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left- For, high-souled Maid, what sorrow would it be That Mountain floods should thunder as before, And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore, And neither awful Voice be heard by thee!
End of title
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