As though their loud yelling had filled her with fear—
Apast them she sped like a frightened white deer.
Ah! the tears of the sweet, pretty dancers would call
For a saint or dare-devil to rescue them all.
They could look to the hill to see daring men steer
With effort to reach them, and once they came near,
But were carried away by the rush of the tide.
And often again was it desperately tried
By many who valiantly fought with the wave,
And risked their own life, hoping others to save,