Sir Aubrey de Vere (1788–1846)

GAZING from each low bulwark of this bridge,

How wonderful the contrast! Dark as night,

Here, amid cliffs and woods, with headlong might

The black stream whirls, through ferns and drooping sedge,

’Neath twisted roots moss-brown, and weedy ledge,

Gushing;—aloft, from yonder birch-clad height

Leaps into air a cataract, snow-white;

Falling to gulfs obscure. The mountain ridge,

Like a grey Warder, guardian of the scene,

Above the cloven gorge gloomily towers:

O’er the dim woods a gathering tempest lours;

Save where athwart the moist leaves’ lucid green

A sunbeam, glancing through disparted showers,

Sparkles along the rill with diamond sheen!