Built of grey stone, without a counterpart
In the whole world. The tempest's mocking elf
Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf
He strikes on, only when the timbers start."
So mused Childe Roland! Chief of the white crest,
With thine adventure doth the strain not fit
Most strangely? Looms the Dark Tower turret-lit
By autumn rays low, chilly, from the west,
So waterishly wan. Oh! crowning test
Of mortal valour and of human wit!