Part 8 (1/2)

A BALLADE OF CORNWALL

Westward where the latest sunbeam lingers on the brow of night, Lies a land of old romance enshrined in amethystine sea, Where from cairn and cromlech come, to eyes illumed by subtle sight, Fays and pixies, sprites and gnomes, in pomp of faery pageantry.

s.h.i.+ning forms of ghostly knights, and dream-like dames of chivalry Gleam among the gorse and furze, and pace the reedy valleys low, Moving through a magic mist amid the days of long ago-- Knights and ladies living still in trusted legendary lore Lilt their lovelorn lays or speed their clamorous challenge to the foe In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn sh.o.r.e.

Gauntly glooms Tintagel Castle from its frowning, dizzy height, Where the fair Iseult is crooning happy songs in thoughtless glee; Softly falls the creeping footstep, sudden flash the sparks of spite, Lifeless lies the love-led Tristram lowly at his lady's knee, Past the stress of wandering sorrow, past the philtred esctasy.

Then there breaks the sound of slaughter, clanging blow on clanging blow, Clash of brand and crash of axe, while shrieks shrill up from deeps below, Where the sea's majestic music mixes with the mortal roar.

Still the ghostly field engages, still the tides of battle flow In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn sh.o.r.e.

Down the rugged slopes of Rough Tor ancient heroes armour dight, Charge across the bridge of slaughter where the mist hangs heavily.

There the brand Excalibur goes flas.h.i.+ng through the last dim fight Wielded by the stainless king who fighting falls his wierd to dree.

Then across the mere there come a silent, shadowy, queenly, three, Golden crowned, who bear him off with bitter tears of quenchless woe Unto valleyed Avilon, where falls not rain, nor hail, nor snow, Nor the faith unfaithful brings a dolorous doom for ever-more.

Still across the dream lit waters moves the stately shadow show In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn sh.o.r.e.

_ENVOI_

Friend, these smiling buds of fancy you may gather as you go.

Still the fairy bells are ringing in the evening's afterglow; Still the questing knights adventure over mountain, stream, and moor; All the ancient splendid beauty understanding hearts may know In the land where ceaseless surges smite the crag-crowned rock-strewn sh.o.r.e.

THE FISHERMAN'S PRAYER

Pray G.o.d, hear our prayer; Keep us in Thy calm of care; Lead us where the haul be good, So our fis.h.i.+ng find us food; Give us strength our nets to haul And safe to harbour bring us all.

Pray G.o.d, Whose Son did know Fishermen and sea below, And Who calmed the tempest when Terror came to fishermen, Hear us when for help we call, And safe to harbour bring us all.

Pray G.o.d, Who made the sea, Hear the fishers' prayer to Thee.

Steer us clear of shoal and reef, So our boat may bear no grief; Bear us up through storm and squall, And safe to harbour bring us all.