A pathway in the solid rock; and there,
Far in those caverned chambers, where the warm
Sweet sun-light enters not, is heard the war
Of hidden waves, imprisoned tempests—bursting
Anon like thunder, then with low deep moan
Falling upon the ear—the mournful wail,
As Indian legends say, of spirits accurst.
There is a tale that once was current here,
Which lent a wild and fearful interest
To these stern rocks.—While yet the vales beyond