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William Wordsworth (Уильям Вордсворт) On the Frith of Clyde ARRAN! a single-crested Teneriffe, A St. Helena next,—in shape and hue Varying her crowded peaks and ridges blue; Who but must covet a cloud-seat, or skiff Built for the air, or wingéd Hippogriff, That he might fly, where no one could pursue, From this dull monster and her sooty crew; And, as a god, light on thy topmost cliff? Impotent wish! which reason would despise If the mind knew no union of extremes, No natural bond between the boldest schemes Ambition frames and heart-humilities. Beneath stern mountains many a soft vale lies, And lofty springs give birth to lowly streams. William Wordsworth's other poems:
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