While, in the distance, rolled the vast expanse
Of ocean, mingling with the dark blue sky.
There is another Rock, not like this one,
Surrounded by green shade, but smooth and bare,
And High Rock is its name; a beacon this,
Seen from afar, and, from its highest point,
A lovely prospect opens to the sight.
On the declivity a Building stood,
An object of much awe to children’s eyes,
The Powder House, a magazine of wrath,