XCIV.

Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between Heights which appear as lovers who have parted[ki][337] In hate, whose mining depths so intervene, That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted: Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted, Love was the very root of the fond rage Which blighted their life's bloom, and then departed:-- Itself expired, but leaving them an age Of years all winters,--war within themselves to wage:[kj]