-
Articles/Ads
Article THE WORSHIPFUL MASTER. ← Page 6 of 8 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Worshipful Master.
So they went over the Daglauds , on to the Esplanade , and past the Castle Cove . The moon had just risen , and the Fort frowned blackly beneath them . There had been a storm outside , no doubt , for the waves were dashing over the rocks far below , ancl the white foam , gleaming ' neath the moonbeams , looked awfully suggestive of peril . They stood and gazed for awhile in
silence , and at last he said , quietly : ' " Do you remember three years ago ? " " Oh ! yes . I never forget . Do you know I think you must have seen Polly Foot that night , " she added , playfully . " Ancl who was Polly Foot ? " " Shall I tell you ? "
"Yes ; pray do . " " Well , I will give it you in my grandfather ' s own words . " " Who , the dead poet ? " " Yes ; " ancl then , in her mellifluous voice , she told the legend of the Castle
Cove : THE CASTLE COVE : A LEGEND OP ST . MERVIN . [ About a hundred feet below Belle Vne , Fowey , is a great chasm ( the cliff covered with verdure to the water ' s edge ) known ns Polly Foot's Cove , where the tragedy occurred , many years ago , related in the poem . It is situated close to the old mined fort built in the reign of Edward III ., and the view , looking over the gap up the harbour on a moonlight night , is very weird and picturesque . More than one suicide has taken place here . ] .
Would you see tbe autumn sunset , with its glamour and its glory , The lofty hills all purple with the heather in its bloom ? Will you listen while I tell you of the old , the olden story , Of a love that never faded—of the love beyond the tomb ? Would you come where I can show yon the fierce sea-horses leaping , Tossing their white crests of foam against the sullen cliff ? Where the waves are idllashingavid the foam is crawlingcreeping
y p , , , Where tbe moonbeams show a something lying cold , and stark , and stiff ? For not many years ago , where you and I are standing , Looking at yon fortress , beneath the harvest moon , A woman sprang , with fearful leap , where foothold none nor landing Could ever serve to save from death , that death that came too soon . She loved and was deserted , and with her babe she hastened ,
One night , away from home in desolate affright ; For he was dead , they told her : by grief she was not chastened , But only in despair she fled , that lovely autumn night . He was a hardy seaman ; perhaps he had repented ; But sailors , saith the proverb , leave a wife in every port , This had been their trysting-place , be sure 'twas oft frecpiented , And sbe had loved too well to know with him 'twas cruel sport .
The hungry sea it took him ; her name he kept repeating ; They heard him call her " Mary ! " before he sank at last ; And so , poor soul , her reason left her—him she would be meeting , And through the iron gate of death she'd keep her tryst at last . Perhaps 'tis but illusion , light through the mullions gleaming , A shadow from the antique window all athwart tbe rocks , But strangely like a woman lying where the gulls are screaming
Below us , where the waves beat , with their booming and their shocks . For tbese two shuddering souls , they say , do vainly wander Amongst the caves and crannies within the Castle Cove , And may be seen where moonbeams glimmer . Hist ! what is that yonder ? We'll leave this gruesome , haunted place , and here no longer rove . As she said the last words she touched his arm , and he half started , as though he really expected to see something . " Why , " he said , " you positively made me shudder . "
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Worshipful Master.
So they went over the Daglauds , on to the Esplanade , and past the Castle Cove . The moon had just risen , and the Fort frowned blackly beneath them . There had been a storm outside , no doubt , for the waves were dashing over the rocks far below , ancl the white foam , gleaming ' neath the moonbeams , looked awfully suggestive of peril . They stood and gazed for awhile in
silence , and at last he said , quietly : ' " Do you remember three years ago ? " " Oh ! yes . I never forget . Do you know I think you must have seen Polly Foot that night , " she added , playfully . " Ancl who was Polly Foot ? " " Shall I tell you ? "
"Yes ; pray do . " " Well , I will give it you in my grandfather ' s own words . " " Who , the dead poet ? " " Yes ; " ancl then , in her mellifluous voice , she told the legend of the Castle
Cove : THE CASTLE COVE : A LEGEND OP ST . MERVIN . [ About a hundred feet below Belle Vne , Fowey , is a great chasm ( the cliff covered with verdure to the water ' s edge ) known ns Polly Foot's Cove , where the tragedy occurred , many years ago , related in the poem . It is situated close to the old mined fort built in the reign of Edward III ., and the view , looking over the gap up the harbour on a moonlight night , is very weird and picturesque . More than one suicide has taken place here . ] .
Would you see tbe autumn sunset , with its glamour and its glory , The lofty hills all purple with the heather in its bloom ? Will you listen while I tell you of the old , the olden story , Of a love that never faded—of the love beyond the tomb ? Would you come where I can show yon the fierce sea-horses leaping , Tossing their white crests of foam against the sullen cliff ? Where the waves are idllashingavid the foam is crawlingcreeping
y p , , , Where tbe moonbeams show a something lying cold , and stark , and stiff ? For not many years ago , where you and I are standing , Looking at yon fortress , beneath the harvest moon , A woman sprang , with fearful leap , where foothold none nor landing Could ever serve to save from death , that death that came too soon . She loved and was deserted , and with her babe she hastened ,
One night , away from home in desolate affright ; For he was dead , they told her : by grief she was not chastened , But only in despair she fled , that lovely autumn night . He was a hardy seaman ; perhaps he had repented ; But sailors , saith the proverb , leave a wife in every port , This had been their trysting-place , be sure 'twas oft frecpiented , And sbe had loved too well to know with him 'twas cruel sport .
The hungry sea it took him ; her name he kept repeating ; They heard him call her " Mary ! " before he sank at last ; And so , poor soul , her reason left her—him she would be meeting , And through the iron gate of death she'd keep her tryst at last . Perhaps 'tis but illusion , light through the mullions gleaming , A shadow from the antique window all athwart tbe rocks , But strangely like a woman lying where the gulls are screaming
Below us , where the waves beat , with their booming and their shocks . For tbese two shuddering souls , they say , do vainly wander Amongst the caves and crannies within the Castle Cove , And may be seen where moonbeams glimmer . Hist ! what is that yonder ? We'll leave this gruesome , haunted place , and here no longer rove . As she said the last words she touched his arm , and he half started , as though he really expected to see something . " Why , " he said , " you positively made me shudder . "