Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/289

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The mind is coloured by thy every hue;
And if reluctantly the eyes resign
Their cherished gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine!
'Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise;
More mighty spots may rise—more glaring shine,[1]
But none unite in one attaching maze
The brilliant, fair, and soft,—the glories of old days,


The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom[2]
Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen,
The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom,
The forest's growth, and Gothic walls between,—
The wild rocks shaped, as they had turrets been,
In mockery of man's art; and these withal
A race of faces happy as the scene,
Whose fertile bounties here extend to all,
Still springing o'er thy banks, though Empires near them fall.

  1. More mighty scenes may rise—more glaring shine
    But none unite in one enchanted gaze
    The fertile—fair—and soft—the glories of old days

  2. [The "negligently grand" may, perhaps, refer to the glories of old days, now in a state of neglect, not to the unstudied grandeur of the scene taken as a whole; but the phrase is loosely thrown out in order to convey a general impression, "an attaching maze," an engaging attractive combination of images, and must not be interrogated too closely.]