Hawthorn and hazel mingled there;
The primrose pale, and violet flower,
Found in each cliff a narrow bower;
* * * * *
Aloft the ash and warrior oak
Cast anchor in the rifted rock,
And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung
His shatter’d trunk, and frequent flung,
Where seem’d the cliffs to meet on high,
His boughs athwart the narrow’d sky.