Until it clove this shadowy gorge and cool
In one white cataract,—with a dark, broad pool
Beneath, the home of mottled trout. One side
Rose the cliff’s hollowed height, and overhung
An open sward across that basin wide.
The liberal sun through slanting larches flung
Rich spots of gold upon the tufted ground,
And the great royal forest gloomed around.
The Prince, divided from the world so far,
Sat with the lady on a fallen tree;