DARTMOOR. By Nature kindly aid-dishonoured—old— The lonely Wood of Wistman. 83 Reposes in the sunset. Let me gaze Of all surpassing loveliness; and seas Of glorious emerald that seem to flow Around the gold-fringed reefs and rocks ;—must all Vanish with thee at the remorseless touch Of the swift coming twilight? To the Tavy. EDWARD ATKINS BRAY (1778-1857), born at Tavistock, and many years vicar of that place. The old house at Crowndale, where Drake was born, to which reference is here made, is now removed. Mr. Bray's poems were published in two volumes by his widow. FT, Tavy! as I roam thy banks beside, The straw-thatched roof with fond view Where far-famed Drake his infant breath fi O'er unknown seas he led his daring crew Once crouched beneath its sod, a viewless seed. →→ ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT. 85 To Laura. WILLIAM KENDALL, Exeter, 1793. Imitated from Guarini. HY frowns my fair? The mighty bliss Was bought with equal smart: I rudely stole a rapturous kiss, I paid thee, with my heart. St. Michael's Mount. SIR HUMPHRY DAVY (1779-1829), born at Penzance. From an early volume of poems, published ere his great chemical discoveries had won him fame. AJESTIC Michael rises-he whose brow M Is crowned with castles, and whose rocky sides Are clad with dusky ivy; he whose base, Beat by the storms of ages, stands unmoved Amidst the wreck of things-the change of time. That base, encircled by the azure waves, Was once with verdure clad: the towering oaks Here waved their branches green-the sacred oaks, Whose awful shades among the Druids strayed To cut the hallowed mistletoe, and hold High converse with their gods. The sunbeams tremble, and the purple light Illumes the dark Bolerium, seat of storms. High are his granite rocks; his frowning brow Hangs o'er the smiling ocean. In his caves The Atlantic breezes murmur; in his caves, Where sleep the haggard spirits of the storm. Wild, dreary are the frowning rocks around, Encircled by the wave, where to the breeze The haggard cormorant shrieks; and far beyond, Where the great ocean mingles with the sky, Are seen the cloud-like islands, grey in mist. Dolly Pentreath's Epitaph. DOLLY PENTREATH is said to have been the last who used the old Cornish tongue. This epitaph was written by a Mr. THOMSON, of Truro, who had taken an interest in the Cornish language. It was not placed upon Dolly's tombstone, though popularly thought to be. The claims of Dorothy Pentreath to have been the last who spoke the Cornish have been disputed of late; nor is it likely that she really knew more of it than some of her contemporaries. OTH Doll Pentreath, cans ha deau ; SONG IN OLD CORNISH. Old Dolly Pentreath, one hundred aged and two, Not in the church with people great and high, 87 Song in Old Cornish. THESE stanzas are quoted as examples of the ancient Cornish language from Pryce's Archeologia Cornu-Britannica, 1790. The song bears a strong likeness to the familiar one, are you going, my pretty maid?" 鳳 ELEA era why moaz, moz fettow teag, "Where Gen agaz bedgeth gwin, ha agaz blew mellyn ?" "Mi a moaz than venton, sarra wheag Rag delkiow sevi gwra muzi teag." "Pea ve moaz gen a why, moz fettow teag, Gen agaz bedgeth gwin, ha agaz blew mellyn?" "Greah mena why, sarra wheag, Rag delkiow sevi gwra muzi teag." "Pray, whither so trippingly, pretty fair maid, With your face rosy white, and your soft yellow hair?" "Sweet sir, to the well in the summer wood shade; For strawberry leaves make the young maiden fair." "Shall I go with you, pretty fair maid, to the wood, With your face rosy white, and your soft yellow hair?" "Sweet sir, if you please, it will do my heart good; For strawberry leaves make the young maiden fair." |