Like mirror’d shape on dimpling brook,
Or shadow flung on eddying smoke—
And the boy fled. The third day pass’d—
Fierce howl’d at night the angry blast
Brushing the waves; wild shrieks of death
Were heard these bristling cliffs beneath,
And cries for aid. The morning light
Gleam’d on a scene of wild affright.
Where yawns the cave, the rugged shore
With many a corse lay cover’d o’er,