II.

Not distant from the isle of Toobonai, A black rock rears its bosom o'er the spray, 10 The haunt of birds, a desert to mankind, Where the rough seal reposes from the wind, And sleeps unwieldy in his cavern dun, Or gambols with huge frolic in the sun: There shrilly to the passing oar is heard The startled echo of the Ocean bird, Who rears on its bare breast her callow brood, The feathered fishers of the solitude. A narrow segment of the yellow sand On one side forms the outline of a strand;[402] 20 Here the young turtle, crawling from his shell, Steals to the deep wherein his parents dwell; Chipped by the beam, a nursling of the day, But hatched for ocean by the fostering ray; The rest was one bleak precipice, as e'er Gave mariners a shelter and despair; A spot to make the saved regret the deck Which late went down, and envy the lost wreck. Such was the stern asylum Neuha chose To shield her lover from his following foes; 30 But all its secret was not told; she knew In this a treasure hidden from the view.