Did send a dismal sheen;
Nor shapes of men, or beasts we ken,
The ice was all between.
With sloping masts, and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow,
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head.
The ship drove fast—loud roared the blast,
And northward aye we fled"—
Until we all suddenly hauled-in for the land of Greenland, in order to visit the settlement of Uppernavik. Passing into a channel, some four miles in width, we found ourselves running past the remarkable and lofty cliffs of "Sanderson his Hope," a quaint name given to this point by the "righte worthie Master Davis," in honour of his patron, a merchant of Bristol. Well worthy was it of one whose liberality had tended to increase our geographical knowledge; and the Hope's lofty crest pierced through the clouds which drove athwart its breast, and looked afar to see "whether the Lord of the Earth came not."