Gush forth in the shade of the cliff-eagle's wings,
Down whose slopes to the lowlands thy cold waters shine,
Leaping gray walls of rock, flashing through the dwarf pine.
"From that cloud-curtained cradle, so cold and so lone,
From the arms of that wintry-locked mother of stone,
By hills hung with forests, through vales wide and free,
Thy mountain-born brightness glanced down to the sea."