Now, o’er the Caucasus, on high, Was Eden’s outcast flying by. Kazbék, beneath, with diamond light Of everlasting snow shines blinding; And deep below, a streak of night, Like some dark cleft, the snake’s delight, In endless curves the Daryál’s winding And Térek like a lion springing, With bristling mane, in fury roars; The beast of prey, the bird, high winding Its flight in azure where it soars, Have heard the cry his waves give forth, And little golden clouds there are From southern lands,--ay, from afar, To follow on the journey north. The cliffs in serried masses seem, Replete with some mysterious dream, To bend their heads above the stream, And watch his waters as they gleam Perched on the rock, the castle tower, That stands on Caucasus to wait, A giant guardian at the gate, Seems sternly through the mist to glower, And wild and wonderful about Was all God’s world; but that proud sprite With but a glance of scorn looked out On all his God had wrought in might; His lofty brow did naught express Except the void of nothingness.