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41
I pray'd and turn'd my head away
Forth looking as before.
There was no breeze upon the bay,
No wave against the shore.
The rock ſhone bright, the kirk no less
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steep'd in silentness
The steady weathercock.
And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.
A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turn'd my eyes upon the deck—
O Chriſt! what saw I there?
