Cliff heaped on cliff, and stone on fragment stone,
The land’s brown ribs extended: here and there
Steep chasms it had, declining to the sea:—
Some were the beds of streams, that evermore
Washed down the golden grain, and in a year
Paid to the treasury of the insatiate flood
More than the subjects of the richest Kings
Yield to their despots in a century;—
But some of them were dry, and choked with stones
And logs of rotting timber, and deep sand;—