... Hail, kindred glooms!
Congenial horrors, hail!

Thomson.

... ... THOU Spirit dread,
That hoverd'st o'er this rocky region erst,
With burning sulphur, and volcanic streams
Of fire extinct, all hal! - thou, whose loud shriek,
'Midst scowling tempests, oft the list'ning swain
Hast heard aghast; oft in slow-pacing clouds,
That drag their sweeping trains o'er Gragareth's steep,
Has trac'd thy wild fantastic form. Thy steps,
Through many a rugged, uncouth path, well pleas'd
I follow. Whether, from the dread abyss
Of some unfathom'd cavern[1], Echo's groans,
With many a dreary pause between, from rock
To rock rebound, and break upon my ear
Like distant thunder;- or my rapture gaze,
E'en from the yew-fring'd margin, down the steep
Pursues the foaming cataract's[2] headlong course,
Till, spent and dazzled on those wat'ry hues,
Midway it rests, where light reflected paints
Each clust'ring dew-drop's glassy orb, and vies
With melting Iris' vernal tinctur'd bow;-
Or, whether, by the taper's glimm'ring ray