Volume Ii Part 26 (1/2)

”Hast gold in hand? then light the land, It 'longs to thee and me; But let alone the deadly rock In G.o.d Almighty's sea.”

Yet said he, ”Nay,--I must away, On the rock to set my feet; My debts are paid, my will I made, Or ever I did thee greet.

”If I must die, then let me die By the rock and not elsewhere; If I may live, Oh let me live To mount my lighthouse stair.”

The old Mayor looked him in the face, And answered, ”Have thy way; Thy heart is stout, as if round about It was braced with an iron stay:

”Have thy will, mercer! choose thy men, Put off from the storm-rid sh.o.r.e; G.o.d with thee be, or I shall see Thy face and theirs no more.”

Heavily plunged the breaking wave, And foam flew up the lea; Morning and even the drifted snow Fell into the dark gray sea.

Winstanley chose him men and gear; He said, ”My time I waste,”

For the seas ran seething up the sh.o.r.e, And the wrack drave on in haste.

But twenty days he waited and more, Pacing the strand alone, Or ever he sat his manly foot On the rock,--the Eddystone.

Then he and the sea began their strife, And worked with power and might; Whatever the man reared up by day The sea broke down by night.

He wrought at ebb with bar and beam, He sailed to sh.o.r.e at flow; And at his side, by that same tide, Came bar and beam also.

”Give in, give in,” the old Mayor cried, ”Or thou wilt rue the day.”-- ”Yonder he goes,” the townsfolk sighed, ”But the rock will have its way.

”For all his looks that are so stout, And his speeches brave and fair, He may wait on the wind, wait on the wave, But he'll build no lighthouse there.”

In fine weather and foul weather The rock his arts did flout, Through the long days and the short days, Till all that year ran out.

With fine weather and foul weather Another year came in; ”To take his wage,” the workmen said, ”We almost count a sin.”

Now March was gone, came April in, And a sea fog settled down, And forth sailed he on a gla.s.sy sea, He sailed from Plymouth town.

With men and stores he put to sea, As he was wont to do: They showed in the fog like ghosts full faint,-- A ghostly craft and crew.

And the sea fog lay and waxed alway, For a long eight days and more; ”G.o.d help our men,” quoth the women then ”For they bide long from sh.o.r.e.”

They paced the Hoe in doubt and dread; ”Where may our mariners be?”

But the brooding fog lay soft as down Over the quiet sea.

A Scottish schooner made the port, The thirteenth day at e'en; ”As I am a man,” the captain cried, ”A strange sight I have seen:

”And a strange sound heard, my masters all, At sea, in the fog and the rain, Like s.h.i.+pwrights' hammers tapping low, Then loud, then low again.

”And a stately house one instant showed, Through a rift on the vessel's lea; What manner of creatures may be those That build upon the sea.”

Then sighed the folk, ”The Lord be praised!”

And they flocked to the sh.o.r.e amain: All over the Hoe that livelong night, Many stood out in the rain.

It ceased; and the red sun reared his head, And the rolling fog did flee; And, lo! in the offing faint and far Winstanley's house at sea!