| No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, |
| The ship was still as she could be, |
| Her sails from heaven received no motion, |
| Her keel was steady in the ocean. |
| Without either sign or sound of their shock |
| The waves flow’d over the Inchcape Rock; |
| So little they rose, so little they fell, |
| They did not move the Inchcape Bell. |
| The Abbot of Aberbrothok |
| Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock; |
| On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, |
| And over the waves its warning rung. |
| When the Rock was hid by the surge’s swell, |
| The mariners heard the warning bell; |
| And then they knew the perilous Rock, |
| And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok. |
| The Sun in heaven was shining gay, |
| All things were joyful on that day; |
| The sea-birds scream’d as they wheel’d round, |
| And there was joyaunce in their sound. |
| 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 fix’d his eye on the darker speck. |
| He felt the cheering power of spring, |
| It made his 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 Inchcape Rock, |
| And I’ll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok.’ |
| 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 sunk the Bell with a gurgling sound, |
| The bubbles rose and burst around; |
| Quoth Sir Ralph, ‘The next who comes to the Rock |
| Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok.' |
| 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 the 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!’ |
| Sit Ralph the Rover tore his hair; |
| He curst himself in his despair; |
| The waves rush in on every side, |
| The ship is sinking beneath the tide. |
| But even in his dying fear |
| One dreadful sound could the Rover hear, |
| A sound as if with the Inchcape Bell, |
| The Devil below was ringing his knell. |
Robert Southey 1802
