208 THE WILD PONIES OF SABLE ISLAND 



while the next gale terminates their sojourn beneath ' the glimpses 

 of the moon ' and buries them once more beneath some migrating 

 sandbank. 



Situated about eighty-five miles eastward of the coast of Nova 

 Scotia, Sable Island comes perilously close to the ocean pathway 

 of commerce between the old and new world, its terrors to navigators 

 being greatly enhanced by the westward sweep of a branch of the 

 arctic current which here varies in velocity according to the force 

 and direction of the wind. Ships have been known to run heed- 

 lessly towards the low, dark hummocks, which are difficult to 

 make out distinctly even on a perfectly fine day at a distance 

 of twelve or fifteen miles, until the attention of the lookout has 

 been suddenly arrested by the red ensign floating from the tall 

 flagstaff of the ' crow's nest '. The island has been compared 

 to a wild beast with open jaws ever ready to close on its victims. 



As lurks the hungry tiger for his prey, 



Low crouched to earth, with ill-dissembled mien, 



Peace in his eye the savage wish to slay 



Rankling around his heart so thou art seen, 



Stretched harmlessly on ocean's breast of green, 



When winds are hushed and sleeps the placid wave ; 



While on thy sands the lazy seals repose, 



And steeds unbridled sporting carelessly 



Crop the rank grass that on thy bosom grows, 



While round the timid hare his glance of caution throws. 



But when thy aspect changes when the storm 



Sweeps o'er the wild Atlantic's heaving breast: 



When hurrying on in many a giant form, 



The broken waters by the winds are pressed, 



Roaring like fiends of hell which know no rest, 



And guided by the lightning's fitful flash, 



Who dares look on thee then in terror drest, 



As on thy shuddering beach the billows dash, 



Shaking the heavens themselves with one long deafening crash ! 



The above Byronic sketch from the pen of the late Hon. 

 Joseph Howe, of Halifax, conveys a faithful picture of the 

 island in calm and storm. Nowhere does Neptune more swiftly 

 change his moods. Even on a halcyon summer day one cannot 

 get rid of an impression of feline treachery on the part of the smiling 

 sea. Though the eye wanders over patches of silvery sheen 

 beyond the green shoals quivering and glancing up to the very 

 rim of the horizon, it is impossible to forget that recent morning 

 when, without other warning beyond a moaning and troubled 

 sound of the surf and a white horse or two, a sudden gale burst 

 in awful fury, while the sky grew wild in appearance, and a dull 



