"I saw her mainsail lash the sea As I clung to the rock alone; Then she heeled over, and down she went,

And sank like any stone.

"She was a fair ship, but all's one!

For naught could bide the shock." "I will take horse," Winstanley said, "And see this deadly rock.

"For never again shall bark o' mine Sail over the windy sea,

Unless, by the blessing of God, for this

Be found a remedy."

Winstanley rode to Plymouth town
All in the sleet and the snow;
And he looked around on shore and
sound,

As he stood on Plymouth Hoe.

Till a pillar of spray rose far away, And shot up its stately head, Reared, and fell over, and reared again:

"Tis the rock! the rock!" he said.

Straight to the Mayor he took his way:

"Good Master Mayor," quoth he, "I am a mercer of London town, And owner of vessels three,

"But for your rock of dark renown, I had five to track the main." "You are one of many," the old Mayor said,

"That on the rock complain.

"An ill rock, mercer! your words ring right,

Well with my thoughts they chime, For my two sons to the world to come It sent before their time."

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; "God help our men," quoth the women then;

"For they bide long from shore."

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 shipwrights' hammers tapping low,

Then loud, then low again.

"And a stately house one instant showed,

Through a rift, on the vessel's lee; What manner of creatures may be those

That built upon the sea?"

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

And they flocked to the shore 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!

"Yet were I fain still to remain, Watch in my tower to keep, And tend my light in the stormiest night

That ever did move the deep;

"And if it stood, why then 'twere good,

Amid their tremulous stirs, To count each stroke when the mad waves broke,

For cheers of mariners.

"But if it fell, then this were well, That I should with it fall; Since, for my part, I have built my heart

In the courses of its wall.

"Ay! I were fain, long to remain, Watch in my tower to keep, And tend my light in the stormiest night

That ever did move the deep."

With that Winstanley went his way,
And left the rock renowned,
And summer and winter his pilot star
Hung bright o'er Plymouth Sound.

But it fell out, fell out at last,
That he would put to sea,
To scan once more his lighthouse

tower

On the rock o' destiny.

And the winds broke, and the storm broke,

And wrecks came plunging in; None in the town that night lay down Or sleep or rest to win.

The great mad waves were rolling

graves,

And each flung up its dead; The seething flow was white below, And black the sky o'erhead.

And when the dawn, the dull, gray dawn,

Broke on the trembling town, And men looked south to the harbor mouth,

The lighthouse tower was down.

Down in the deep where he doth sleep,

Who made it shine afar,

A BARKING sound the shepherd hears,

A cry as of a dog or fox;

He halts, and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:
And now at distance can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen
Glancing from that covert green.

The dog is not of mountain breed;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy;
With something, as the shepherd
thinks,

Unusual in its cry:

Nor is there any one in sight

All round, in hollow or on height; Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear: What is the creature doing here?

Not free from boding thoughts, a while

The shepherd stood; then makes his way Towards the dog, o'er rocks and stones,

As quickly as he may;

Nor far had gone before he found A human skeleton on the ground; The appalled discoverer with a sigh Looks round, to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks The man had fallen, that place of fear!

At length upon the shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear:
He instantly recalled the name,
And who he was, and whence he came;
Remembered, too, the very day
On which the traveller passed this

way.

But hear a wonder, for whose sake
This lamentable tale I tell!
A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.

The dog, which still was hovering nigh,

Repeating the same timid cry, This dog had been through three months' space

A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain that since the day

On which the traveller thus had died The dog had watched about the spot, Or by his master's side:

How nourished here through such long time

He knows, who gave that love sublime,

And gave that strength of feeling, great

Above all human estimate.

WORDSWORTH.

HELVELLYN.

I CLIMBED the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn,

Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty and wide;

All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling,

And starting around me the echoes replied.