The bubbles arose and burst around;
Quoth Sir Ralph, ‘The next who comes to the Rock,
Won’t bless the Abbot of Arberbrothok.’”
And so the rover sailed away, and grew rich with plundered store, till at length he thought of Scotland once again, and turned his vessel’s head for home. He approached her coasts in haze and fog, and knew he could not be far from the rocky shore.
“They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
Though the wind hath fallen they drift along,
Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock,—
‘Oh, Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock!’
“Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair;
He curst himself in his despair;