Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please the soul.
This is full of poetic vision:
Where lone Utraikey forms its circling cove,
And weary waves retire to gleam at rest,
How brown the foliage of the green hill's grove,
Nodding at midnight o'er the calm bay's breast,
As winds come lightly whispering from the west,
Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene;--
Here Harold was received a welcome guest;
Nor did he pass unmoved the gentle scene,