Fragment
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he cataract, whirling down the precipice, Elbows down rocks and, shouldering, thunders through.Roars, howls, and stifled murmurs never cease; Hell and its agonies seem hid below.Thick rolls the mist, that smokes and falls in dew; The trees and greenwood wear the deepest green.Horrible mysteries in the gulph stare through, Roars of a million tongues, and none knows what they mean.
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