Here rose the rock—there sunk the headlong steep,
And fiercely round him seemed the storm to howl;
The while from sheltered glen his foes would peep
With taunts and jeers, and with revilings foul
Scoff at his efforts; and their clamors deep
Came mingled with that awful tempest’s sweep.
XXIX.
Morn came at last; and by the dawning day,
Our Founder rose his secret flight to take;
His wife and infant still in slumber lay;—