Brook and road Were fellow-travellers in this gloomy Pass, And with them did we journey several hours At a slow step. The immeasurable height Of woods decaying, never to be decayed! The stationary blasts of waterfalls; And everywhere along the hollow rent Winds thwarting winds, bewilder'd and forlorn; The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, The rocks that mutter'd close upon our ears, Black drizzling crags that spake by the way-side As if a voice were in them; the sick sight And giddy prospect of the raving stream; The unfetter'd clouds, and region of the heavens, Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light, Were all like workings of one mind, the features Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree, Characters of the great Apocalypse, The Types and Symbols of Eternity, Of first, and last, and midst, and without end.[16] [Footnote 16: See _The Simplon Pass_, in "Poetical Works," vol. ii. p. 69.--ED.] The place had nothing of this character, the glen being open to the eye of day, the mountains retiring in independent majesty. Even in the upper part of it, where the stream rushed through the rocky chasm, it was but a deep trench in the vale, not the vale itself, and could only be seen when we were close to it. _FOURTH WEEK_ _Sunday, September 4th._--We had desired to be called at six o'clock, and rose at the first summons. Our beds had proved better than we expected, and we had not slept ill; but poor Coleridge had passed a wretched night here four days before. This we did not know; but since, when he told us of it, the notion of what he must have suffered, with the noise of drunken people about his ears all night, himself sick and tired, has made our discomfort cling to my memory, and given these recollections a twofold interest. I asked if it was possible to have a couple of eggs boiled before our departure: the woman hesitated; she thought I might, and sent a boy into the out-houses to look about, who brought in one egg after long searching. Early as we had risen it was not very early when we set off, for everything at King's House was in unison--equally uncomfortable. As the woman had told us the night before, "They had no hay and that was a loss." There were neither stalls nor bedding in the stable, so that William was obliged to watch the horse while it was feeding, for there were several others in the stable, all standing like wild beasts, ready to devour each other's portion of corn: this, with the slowness of the servant and other hindrances, took up much time, and we were completely starved, for the morning was very cold, as I believe all the mornings in that desolate place are.