Oh that, like thee, when toil is over And all my griefs are past, This ravaged bosom might subside To peace and joy at last! And while it lay all calm like thee, In pure unruffled sleep, Oh! might a Heaven as bright as this Be mirrored in its deep. On the left is the New Harbour, to the right the Skerries Light-house, before you St. George’s Channel. As you draw near the rocks you gain a full and varied view of the scene. In wildness and grandeur of aspect no place, assuredly, can surpass this portion of the Anglesey coast. Here nature exhibits her rude outline in the most sublime and magnificent scenery. Let us go round, And let the sail be slack, the course be slow, That at our leisure, as we coast along, We may contemplate, and from every scene Receive its influence. As you advance, the grand promontory, with its towering precipitous cliffs—its crags, fretted by decay and storm—its magnificent caverned rocks, and bleak indented sides, appear to the utmost advantage. The effect, as you draw nearer and nearer within the verge of these tremendous caverns, is truly appalling; at last, when you come under the black shadows of the super-ambient rocks, and approach the dismal chasms, and hear the wild plaintive cry of the sea-birds, wheeling above your heads, it is impossible not to feel sensations equally unexpected and solemn. Grand receding arches of different shapes, supported by gigantic pillars of rock, formed by the incessant action of the waves, which, in stormy weather, roll with terrific violence against this high rocky coast, and exhibit a strange magnificence—a wild and savage beauty, mingle with a dread repose which continues to haunt the imagination even after quitting the scene. The singular and fantastic shapes and positions of these rocky formations, either primitive or time-worn, pinnacled or projecting, running off in bold escapement, or shelving into sheet-like floors of granite—sometimes yawning in chasms too deep for the light of summer’s sun to reach, or rounded into Amphitheatres that might have formed the council hall of a race of giants, gleaming in the hues of grey, green, and purple, lying in ribbon streaks, or mingled in rich combination—all, all, lies immediately before you. The largest of these caverns is peculiarly worth attention; it has received the vulgar appellation of the _Parliament House_, from the frequent visits of water parties to see this wonderful cavern; it being only accessible by boats, and that at half ebb-tide. It is entered through a noble arch about 70 feet high, and consists of a series of receding arches, supported by massive and lofty pillars of rock, displaying an interior of picturesque and sublime grandeur. It is a magnificent instance of the effects of the sea, in producing beautiful or fantastic forms from the soluble parts of stratified rocks, more especially where calcareous substances are