On thy stupendous summit, rock sublime! 
That o’er the channel reared, half way at sea 
The mariner at early morning hails, 
I would recline; while Fancy should go forth, 
And represent the strange and awful hour 
Of vast concussion; when the Omnipotent 
Stretched forth his arm, and rent the solid hills, 
Bidding the impetuous main flood rush between 
The rifted shores, and from the continent 
Eternally divided this green isle. 
Imperial lord of the high southern coast! 
From thy projecting head-land I would mark 
Far in the east the shades of night disperse, 
Melting and thinned, as from the dark blue wave 
Emerging, brilliant rays of arrowy light 
Dart from the horizon; when the glorious sun 
Just lifts above it his resplendent orb. 
Advances now, with feathery silver touched, 
The rippling tide of flood; glisten the sands, 
While, inmates of the chalky clefts that scar 
Thy sides precipitous, with shrill harsh cry, 
Their white wings glancing in the level beam, 
The terns, and gulls, and tarrocks, seek their food, 
And thy rough hollows echo to the voice 
Of the gray choughs, and ever restless daws, 
With clamor, not unlike the chiding hounds, 
While the lone shepherd, and his baying dog, 
Drive to thy turfy crest his bleating flock. 
The high meridian of the day is past, 
Is of cerulean hue; and murmurs low 
The tide of ebb, upon the level sands. 
The sloop, her angular canvas shifting still, 
Catches the light and variable airs 
That but a little crisp the summer sea, 
Dimpling its tranquil surface. 



















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