And with them leap to his deep hollow cave—
Not easily to be withdrawn again,
Grieves one who loves to think of other times,
To talk with those long silent in the grave,
And pass from childhood to old age again.
Behold this stony rock! whose rifted crest,
Lets the rough, roaring torrent force a way,
And, foaming, pour its waters on the vale!
Behold them tumbling from their dizzy height,
Like clouds, of more than snowy whiteness, thrown