Chapter 68 No.68

Not distant from the isle of Toobonai,

A black rock rears its bosom o'er the spray,10

The haunt of birds, a desert to mankind,

Where the rough seal reposes from the wind,

And sleeps unwieldy in his cavern dun,

Or gambols with huge frolic in the sun:

There shrilly to the passing oar is heard

The startled echo of the Ocean bird,