Dark dark is Delphi,
Dark is the dell,
There in the murk the birds of ill-omen, softly horribly fly,
And like waters of hell
Castaly streams from her gorge and is lost in Castaly’s well.
That gleam in the gorge!
That glint in Phaëdriades cleft!
Like a golden spool in the weft
Like a golden bird which flits
’Mong solemn crags of the ghostly place: