Not Envying Latian Shades--If Yet They Throw

Not envying Latian shades--if yet they throw A grateful coolness round that crystal Spring, Blandusia, prattling--as when long ago The Sabine Bard was moved her praise to sing;[EV] Careless of flowers that in perennial blow Round the moist marge of Persian fountains cling; Heedless of Alpine torrents thundering Through ice-built arches radiant as heaven's bow; I seek the birth-place of a native Stream.--[EW] All hail, ye mountains! hail, thou morning light! Better to breathe at large on this clear height Than toil in needless sleep from dream to dream: Pure flow the verse, pure, vigorous, free, and bright, For Duddon, long-loved Duddon, is my theme!

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