Then fling that Tarpaulin over your Feather-Jacket, on which you plume yourself, and don't forget your Gig-Parasol, Longfellow--for the rain-gauge is running over, so are the water-butts, and I hear the Loch surging its way up to the Camp. The Cladich Cataract is a stunner. Sit down, my dear Talboys. Recite away. TALBOYS. No. NORTH. Gentlemen, I call on Mister Buller. BULLER. "The roar of waters!--from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice; The fall of waters! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss; The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, "And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again Returns in an unceasing shower, which round, With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain, Is an eternal April to the ground, Making it all one emerald:--how profound The gulf! and how the giant element From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound, Crushing the cliffs, which, downward worn and rent With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent "To the broad column which rolls on, and shows More like the fountain of an infant sea Torn from the womb of mountains by the throes Of a new world, than only thus to be Parent of rivers, which flow gushingly With many windings, through the vale;--Look back: Lo! where it comes like an eternity, As if to sweep down all things in its track, Charming the eye with dread,--a matchless cataract, "Horribly beautiful! but on the verge, From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge, Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn Its steady dyes, while all around is torn By the distracted waters, bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn; Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene, Love watching Madness with unalterable mien.'" NORTH. In the First Stanza there is a very peculiar and a very striking form--or construction--The Roar of Waters--The Fall of Waters--The Hell of Waters. BULLER. You admire it. NORTH. I do. TALBOYS. Don't believe him, Buller. Let's be off--there is no rain worth mentioning--see--there's a Fly. Oh! 'tis but a Red Professor dangling from my bonnet--a Red Professor with tinsy and a tail. Come, Seward, here's the Chess-Board. Let us make out the Main. NORTH. The four lines about the Roar and the Fall are good---- TALBOYS. Indeed, sir. NORTH. Mind your game, sir. Seward, you may give him a Pawn. The next four--about Hell--are bad. TALBOYS. Indeed, sir. NORTH.