While Rodmond, fearful of some neighbouring shore,
Cries, ever and anon, ‘Look out afore!’
Thus o’er the flood four hours she scudding flew,
When Falconera’s rugged cliffs they view,
Faintly along the larboard bow descried,
As o’er its mountain tops the lightnings glide;
High o’er its summit, through the gloom of night,
The glimmering watch tower cast a mournful light:
In dire amazement rivetted they stand,
And hear the breakers lash the rugged strand—