, their rocks, and snows;
The torrent, travers'd by the lustre broad,
Starts like a horse beside the flashing road;
In the roof'd [J] bridge, at that despairing hour,
She seeks a shelter from the battering show'r. 210
--Fierce comes the river down; the crashing wood
Gives way, and half it's pines torment the flood;
[K] Fearful, beneath, the Water-spirits call,
And the bridge vibrates, tottering to its fall.

--Heavy, and dull, and cloudy is the night, 215
No star supplies the comfort of it's light,
Glimmer the dim-lit Alps, dilated, round,
And one sole light shifts in the vale profound;
While, opposite, the waning moon hangs still,
And red, above her melancholy hill. 220
By the deep quiet gloom appall'd, she sighs,
Stoops her sick head, and shuts her weary eyes.
--Breaking th' ascending roar of desert floods,
And insect buzz, that stuns the sultry woods,
She hears, upon the mountain forest's brow, 225
The death-dog, howling loud and long, below;
On viewless fingers counts the valley-clock,
Followed by drowsy crow of midnight cock.
--Bursts from the troubl'd Larch's giant boughs
The pie, and chattering breaks the night's repose. 230
Low barks the fox; by Havoc rouz'd the bear,
Quits, growling, the white bones that strew his lair;
The dry leaves stir as with the serpent's walk,
And, far beneath, Banditti voices talk;
Behind her hill the Moon, all crimson, rides, 235
And his red eyes the slinking Water hides;
Then all is hush'd; the bushes rustle near,
And with strange tinglings sings her fainting ear.
--Vex'd by the darkness, from the piny gulf
Ascending, nearer howls the famish'd wolf, 240
While thro' the stillness scatters wild dismay,
Her babe's small cry, that leads him to his prey.

Now, passing Urseren's open vale serene,
Her quiet streams, and hills of downy green,
Plunge with the Russ embrown'd by Terror's breath, 245
Where danger roofs the narrow walks of death;
By floods, that, thundering from their dizzy height,
Swell more gigantic on the stedfast sight;
Black drizzling craggs, that beaten by the din,
Vibrate, as if a voice complain'd within; 250
Bare steeps, where Desolation stalks, afraid,
Unstedfast, by a blasted yew upstay'd;
By [L] cells