Where if wind blow strong and the light come fair,

When the sea-cave roars and the spray-jet flashes,

“ rainbow floats in the sunny air.

At the Head’s wild verge, where the tideways quicken,

And eddies hollow the smooth sea-caves,

Our Rob-Roys plunge as the breakers thicken,

And bury their decks in the rearing waves.

We round the Point in the surge and welter

Of clashing billows and blinding foam—

Then mile on mile, in the cliff-wall’s shelter,

In calm new seas to the South we roam.

[9]

O bays of Wicklow, and gorse-crown’d headlands

Whose scent blows far on the seaward breeze,

How oft have I yearned in the tranquil midlands

For one brave shock of your lifting seas!

How oft it may be in days hereafter

Shall rise the thought of you, phantom-fair,

Shall steal the sound of the sea-waves’ laughter

On ears grown dull with time and care!

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