Where with black cliffs the torrents toil,
He watch’d the wheeling eddies boil,
Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes
Beheld the River Demon[177] rise;
The mountain mist took form and limb,
Of noontide hag, or goblin grim;
The midnight wind came wild and dread,
Swell’d with the voices of the dead;
Far on the future battle heath
His eye beheld the ranks of death: