So strangely wild, so deeply lone,
That a nameless feeling, unconfess’d
And undefined, their souls oppress’d.
Rocks piled on rocks, around them hurl’d,
Lay like the ruins of a world,
Left by an earthquake’s final throes
In deep and desolate repose—
Things of eternity whose forms
Bore record of ten thousand storms!
While, rearing its colossal crest