260 SELECT POETRY

He felt the cheering power of spring;
It made him whistle, it made him sing ;
His heart was mirthful to excess—

But the rover’s mirth was wickedness,

His eye was on the bell and float;

Quoth he, “ My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,

And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothock.”

The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go ;

Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,

And cut the warning-bell from the float!

Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound «
The bubbles arose and burst around ;
Quoth Sir Ralph, “ The next who comes to the

rock,
Will not bless the priest of Aberbrothock.”

Sir Ralph the rover sailed away ;

He scoured the seas for many a day ;
And now, grown rich with plundered store,
He steers his course for Scotland’s shore.

So thick a haze o’erspread the sky,
They could not see the sun on high ;
The wind had blown a gale all day,
At evening it had died away.

On deck the rover takes his stand ;

So dark it is, they see no land ;

Quoth Sir Ralph, “ It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising moon.’