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Rh Of a foaming mountain torrent, that, mayhap, the cleft had wore, As it rushed for countless ages through its black and secret lair; But no matter how 'twas formed, my lad, the yawning gulf was there. And from the farther side a stone projected o'er the gorge,— 'Twas strange to see the massive rock just balanced on the verge; It seemed as if an eagle's weight the ponderous mass of stone Would topple from its giddy height, and send it crashing down. It stretched far o'er the dark abyss; but, though 'twere footing good, 'Twas twenty feet or more from off the side on which we stood. Beyond the cleft a gentle slope went down and joined the plain,— Now, lad, back to where we halted, and again resume the rein.