Their trunks hang knotted, black, and bare,
Like spectres o’er the scene;
Here, lofty crag and deep abyss,
And awe-inspiring precipice;
There, grottos bright in wave-worn gloss,
And carpeted with velvet moss.
No wandering ray e’er kissed with light
This rock-walled sable pool,
Spangled with foam-gems thick and white,
And slumbering deep and cool;