Clyde

Where ancient Corehouse hangs above the stream,
And far beneath the tumbling surges gleam,
Engulphed in crags, the fretting river raves,
Chafed into foam, resound his tortured waves:
With giddy heads we view the dreadful deep,
And cattle snort, and tremble at the steep,
Where down at once the foaming waters pour,
And tottering rocks repel the deafening roar:
Viewed from below, it seems from heaven they fell!
Seen from above, they seem to sink to hell!
But when the deluge pours from every hill,
And Clyde's wide bed ten thousand torrents fill,
His rage the murmuring mountain streams augment:
Redoubled rage in rocks so closely pent:
Then shattered woods, with ragged roots uptorn,
And herds and harvests down the waves are borne:
Huge stones heaved upward through the boiling deep,
And rocks enormous thundering down the steep,
In swift descent, fixed rocks encountering, roar,
Crash as from slings discharged, and shake the shore.