The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, with memoir of the author.

38 THE LORD OF THE ISLES. [CANTO I.
Yes, sweep they on i!-But with that skiff
Abides the minstrel tale,
Where there was dread of surge and cliff,
Labour that strain'd each sinew stiff,
And one sad Maiden's wail.
XVIII.
All day with fruitless strife they toil'd,
With eve the ebbing currents boil'd
More fierce from strait and lake;
And midway through the channel met
Conflicting tides that foam and fret,
And high their mingled billows jet,
As spears, that, in the battle set,
Spring upward as they break.
Then, too, the lights of eve were past,'
And louder sung the western blast
On rocks of Inninmore;
Rent was the sail, and strain'd the mast,
And many a leak was gaping fast,
And the pale steersman stood aghast,
And gave the conflict o'er.
XIX.'Twas then that One, whose lofty look
Nor labour dull'd nor terror shook,
Thus to the Leader spoke:"Brother, how hopest thou to abide
1 [MS.-" Then, too, the clouds were sinking fast."]