See what is that, which yonder gleams,
Where skarts alone make home;
Is that but one oft-breaking sea,
Some frequent fount of foam?
The morn is dark and indistinct,
Is all through drift and cloud;
Around the rock white waters toss,
As flaps in wind a shroud.

It cannot be a leaping jet,
Nor form of rock or wave
There stands some being saved by God
In mercy from the grave!
"Down with the sail, out oars! the boat
Can reach the leeward side:
Mother of Heaven! look you, men,
Where breaks that roaring tide."

"A living woman, do I dream
Or stands my sister there,
Where only at the middle ebb
The shelving ledge is bare?"
O white as surf that sweeps her knee,
She falls, but not to die;
Ahaladah is at her side,
He bears her up on high.

Away from Duart now he steers;
Why curses he its lord;
Why flee to Inveraray's strength,