O’ER an immeasurable space, the eye
Saw conic mountains tap’ring to the sky,
And caverns dark as Acheron between,
Vast pits for graves that newly op’d had been,
While on their edge the moon’s pale light reveal’d
Huge sculls, but late within the earth conceal’d;
And giant spectres stalking o’er the glade,
Like moving pyramids of Egypt, stray’d.
The Genii guard, in rueful state reclin’d:
His far-felt sighs seem’d hollow gusts of wind,
His viewless length, on an high heap of bones,
Extended lay; his deep and echoing moans
Seem’d distant thunder o’er the awe-struck land,
Or bade the mariner fear storms at hand.
His tears bright globes, commingling as they fell
Into a river, at his feet did swell,
Which streaming thro’ the waste with low’ring roar,
A chorus strange maintains there evermore.
(Charlotte Dacre)
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