The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen, A darker speck on the ocean green; Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck, And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. He felt the cheering power of spring, It made him whistle, it made him sing; His heart was mirthful to excess, But the Rover's mirth was wickedness. His eye was on the Inchcape float, Quoth he, 'My men, put out the boat, And row me to the Inch cape Rock, And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothock.' The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row, And to the Inchcape Rock they go; Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, And he cut the Bell from the Inchcape float. Down sank the Bell with a gurgling sound, The bubbles arose and burst around; Quoth Sir Ralph, 'The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothock.' Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away, He scour'd the seas for many a day; And now grown rich with plunder'd store, He steers his course for Scotland's shore. So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky They cannot see the Sun on high; The wind hath blown a gale all day, At evening it hath died away. On deck the Rover takes his stand, So dark it is they see no land; Quoth Sir Ralph, It will be lighter soon, For there is the dawn of the rising Moon.' Canst hear,' said one, 'the breakers roar? For methinks we should be near the shore.' 'Now where we are I cannot tell, But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell.' They hear no sound, the swell is strong; Though the wind hath fallen they drift along, Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock,-- 'Oh Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock!' Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair; He curst himself in his despair; But the waves rush in on every side, And the vessel sinks beneath the tide. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE A WELL there is in the west country, And a clearer one never was seen; There is not a wife in the west country But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne. An oak and an elm tree stand beside, And behind doth an ash-tree grow, And a willow from the bank above Droops to the water below. A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne; Joyfully he drew nigh, For from cock-crow he had been travelling, And there was not a cloud in the sky. He drank of the water so cool and clear, For thirsty and hot was he, And he sat down upon the bank Under the willow-tree. There came a man from the house hard by At the Well to fill his pail; On the Well-side he rested it, And he bade the stranger hail. 'Now art thou a bachelor, stranger?' quoth he, For an if thou hast a wife, The happiest draught thou hast drunk this day That ever thou didst in thy life. 'Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast, Ever here in Cornwall been? For an if she have, I'll venture my life She has drunk of the Well of St. Keyne.' I have left a good woman who never was here,' The stranger he made reply, 'But that my draught should be the better for that, I pray you answer me why?'