Note 373 — PART III.—Prose
Henri Van Laun translation
"When I behold a stream, which from the spring Doth with doubtful melodious murmuring, Or in a speechless slumber calmly ride Her wedded channel's bosom, ana there chide And bend her brows, and swell, if any bough Does but stoop down to kiss her utmost brow; Yet if her often gnawing kisses win The traiterous banks to gape and let her in, She rusheth violently and doth divorce Her from her native and her long-kept course, And roares, and braves it, and in gallant scorn In flatt'ring eddies promising return, She flouts her channel, which thenceforth is dry. Then say I: That is she, and this am I."—Donne, Elegy VI.