The cataract, whirling down the precipice
Elbows down rocks and, shouldering, thunders through
Roars, howls, and stifled murmurs never cease
Hell and its agonies seem hid below
Thick rolls the mist, that smokes and falls in dew
The trees and greenwood wear the deepest green
Horrible mysteries in the gulph stare through
Roars of a million tongues, and none knows what they mean