The muse has deem’d this crag, in fancy’s hours, The prototype of monster huge and tall, That having left Zahara’s citron bowers, Dips his proboscis in the Senegal; While round his rugged sides the waters fall, His stately form frowns awful o’er the tide, Gleams on his back the castellated wall, As erst by Porus led, in Indian pride, The tower-crown’d elephant, by green Hydaspes side.