Rocks, woods, and waters, wild and rude,—
A scene of savage solitude.
Swift as an arrow from the bow,
Headlong the torrent leaps,
Then tumbling round, in dazzling snow
And dizzy whirls it sweeps;
Then, shooting through the narrow aisle
Of this sublime cathedral pile,
Amid its vastness, dark and grim,
It peals its everlasting hymn.