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(From Chicora)
BEYOND Tallulah’s giant den, | |
| A mountain rent by Nature’s throes, | |
| Where, roaring down the rocky glen, | |
| The stormy torrent falls or flows; | |
| Its waters now a quiet stream, | 5 |
| Now plunging from the giddy steep, | |
| Down rapids now they foam and gleam, | |
| In gloomy pools unfathomed sleep; | |
| From the rent rock you gaze below, | |
| The heart with awe and terror stirred, | 10 |
| You hardly see the torrent flow, | |
| Its fearful voice is faintly heard; | |
| Half down, the hovering crow appears | |
| A moving speck; from rifted beams | |
| Of granite grown, the pine, that rears | 15 |
| Its towering trunk, a sapling seems. | |
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| Turn from the din; a calmer scene, | |
| More soft and still, invites your sight; | |
| Beneath your feet, a sea of green | |
| Fills the charmed heart with new delight; | 20 |
| Down from the mountain top you gaze; | |
| Far, deep below, the verdant maze | |
| Of forest still unbroken lies; | |
| And farther yet, a line of blue | |
| Catches at last the gazer’s view, | 25 |
| The ocean seems to meet his eyes; | |
| With ecstasy beyond control | |
| He sees, while Fancy’s magic power | |
| With witching influence rules the hour, | |
| The surges break, the billows roll. * * * * * | 30 |
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