72 The Lair of Something Striped. 



up a sign for help to the slow sweep of an 

 engulfing wave, and welters disconsolate 

 though the saved rock again appears. It 

 is not to disappear for long, this archaic 

 boulder of granite. It has never moved 

 but once e'en though the mammoth rubbed 

 it with his woolly ear or the heedless elas- 

 mosaurus bounced against it in the chase. 

 It moved but once, and then the straining 

 glacier dropped its load at the foot of the 

 cliff. Up that bold gray cliff the autumn 

 breaker bounds, roaring and splurging 

 with hoarse challenge, till clouds of spray 

 separated in the churning turmoil float up 

 to higher ether to make sunset nimbus, 

 and show the October foliage what gentle 

 beauty may come from harsh parentage as 

 well as from homes of peace. 



At the foot of the cliff purling summer 

 coamers smooth the hard walls that resist. 



The boulder, sunken but a fathom at 

 the flood, rises not enough to arouse the 

 ire of forceful antagonists, and unmoved 

 as sphinx to the questions of the changing 

 seas, it needs not to turn before the brunt, 

 not topple to the wooing. Now the tide 



