And louder gush, at intervals.
Unknown its source—nor spring nor stream
Caught the red sunset’s lingering gleam,
But ceaseless, from its hidden caves,
Arose that mystic voice of waves.[199]
Yet bosom’d midst that savage scene,
One chosen spot of gentler mien
Gave promise to the pilgrim’s eye
Of shelter from the tempest nigh.
Glad sight! the ivied cross it bore,