two missing churches - Brunnion and Trevarrack

Cows close by Brunnion - image by Sheila Russell [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"The following are a few of the interesting remains of old Cornwall which have entirely disappeared from the neighbourhood within a few years-...

...At Brunnion, not far from St Ives, in the garden attached to the house which is occupied by the Hoskings, is an arched doorway of carefully-worked granite. Tradition said this doorway belonged to an ancient church, and that the present garden was the burial-ground. Close by, at Treveerack, is a field known as the "Chapel Field," in which the plough is constantly turning up stones which have been carefully chiselled."

Hunt 1903

Map - Brunnion

Map - Tevarrack

A missing Kistvean

Granite Kistvaen at Drizzelcombe on Dartmoor - image by Herby talk thyme (Own work) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"The following are a few of the interesting remains of old Cornwall which have entirely disappeared from the neighbourhood within a few years-...

...At Balnoon, between Nancledrea and Knill's Steeple, some miners came upon "two slabs of granite cemented together," which covered a walled grave three feet square--an ancient kistvean. In it they found an earthenware vessel containing some black earth, and a leaden spoon. The spoon was given to Mr Praed of Trevetha, and may possibly be in the possession of the present proprietor. The kistvean was utterly destroyed."

 

Hunt 1903

Map - Balnoon

The Nine Maidens, or Virgin sisters - more info

The Nine Maidens at Boskednan.  Unfortunately I can find no copyright free images of the Nine Maidens near Wendron. Image by Jim Champion [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"NINE "Moor Stones" are set up near the road in the parish of Gwendnon, or Wendron, to which the above name is given. The perpendicular blocks of granite have evidently been placed with much labour in their present position. Tradition says they indicate the graves of nine sisters. Hals appears to think some nuns were buried here. From one person only I heard the old stony of the stones having been metamorphosed maidens. Other groups of stone might be named, as Rosemedery, Tregaseal, Boskednan, Botallack, Tredinek, and Crowlas, in the west, to which the same story extends, and many others in the eastern parts of the county; but it cannot be necessary."

Hunt 1903

Map - Nine  Maidens / Virgin Sisters near Wedron

Map - Stones at Rosemedery (this is a guess, New Downs stone circle - it is the nearest stone circle to Rosemundy in Cornwall...)

Map - Stones at Tregaseal

Map - Stones at Boskednan

Map - Stones at Botallack

Map - Stones at Tredinek

Map - Crowlas (There is no indication of a circle, destroyed or otherwise here, though ther may have been once)

Three Cornish Stone Circles and their myths

Boscawen Un Stone Circle - Alan Simkins [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"The celebrated circle of nineteen stones,--which is seen on the road to the Land's End,--known as the "Boscawen un Circle," is another example." [of people turned to stone for dancing] "The "Nine Maids," or the "Virgin Sisters," in Stithians, and other "Nine Maids," or, as called in Cornish, Naw-whoors, in St Colomb-Major parish, should also be seen, in the hope of impressing the moral lesson they convey yet more strongly on the mind...

...The following quotations are front Davies Gilbert. It must not be forgotten that this gentleman was President of the Royal Society, and therefore a sceptic in local tradutionary story:-- -

"On the south-west part of the parish of Stithians, towards Gwendron, are still to be seen nine Stones set perpendicularly erect in the earth, in a direct manner, about ten feet apart, called the Nine Maids, probably set up there in memory of nine religious sisters or nuns in that place before the fifth century; not women turned into stone, as the English name implies, and as the country people thereabout will tell you"

"The Nine Maids--in Cornish, Naw-voz, alias the nine sisters--in Cornish, Nawwhoors--which very name informs us that they were sepulchral stones, erected in memory either of suns natural or spiritual Sisters of some religious house, and not so many maids turned into stones for dancing on the Sabbath-day, as the country people will tell you. Those stones are set in order by a line, as is such another monument, also called the Nine Maids, in Gwendron, by the highway, about twenty-five feet distance Irons each other.""

Hunt 1903

Map - Boscawen un Circle

Map - Nine Maids of Stithians parish

Map - Naw-whoors Stone Row of St Colomb-Major

Barbara Allen - a version of a song mentioning Totnes

A Church in Totnes - note the flowers in the wall - not roses, but one can imagine... - By User:Wigulf (Own work) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC-BY-2.5 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons

"IN Totnes town where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwelling,
Made every youth cry "Well-a-way,"
Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May,

When green buds they were swelling,
Young Johnny Gale on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his groom unto her then,

To the town where she was dwelling,
" You must come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen.

For death is printed on his face,

And o'er his heart is stealing :
Then haste away to comfort him,
Oh ! lovely Barbara Allen !"

Though death be printed on his face,

And o'er his heart is stealing,
Yet little better shall he be,
For bonny Barbara Allen.

So slowly, slowly she came up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And all she said, when up she came,
"Young man, I think you're dying."

He turned his face unto her straight,

With deadly sorrow sighing,
" Oh ! lovely maid, come pity me,
I'm on my death-bed lying."

" If on your death-bed you do lie,
What needs the fate you're telling :
I cannot keep you from your death.
Farewell !" said Barbara Allen.

He turned his face unto the wall,

And deadly pangs he fell in,
"Adieu, adieu, adieu to all !
Adieu to Barbara Allen !"

As she was walking o'er the fields,

She heard the bell a-knelling,
And every stroke did seem to say,
" Unworthy Barbara Allen."

She turned her body round about,

And 'spied the corpse a-coming,
" Lay down, lay down, the corpse," she said,
" That I may look upon him."

With scornful eye, she looked down,

Her cheeks with laughter swelling,
Whilst all his friends cried out " For shame, 

Unworthy Barbara Allen !"

When he was dead and in his grave,

Her heart was struck with sorrow,
" Oh, mother ! mother ! make my bed,
For I shall die to-morrow.

" Hard-hearted creature him to slight,

Who loved me so dearly ;
Oh ! that I'd been more kind to him,
When he was alive and near me."

She, on her death-bed as she lay,

Begged to be buried by him,
And sore repented of the day,
That she did e'er deny him.

"Farewell," she said, "ye virgins all,

And shun the fault I fell in,
Henceforth take warning by the fall,
Of cruel Barbara Allen."

Sung by John Snow, of Tiverton, at a supper party, A.D. 1869.

Hewett 1900

Map - Totnes
Map - Tiverton

[This song contains the line " Oh, mother ! mother ! make my bed, / For I shall die to-morrow." which is very similar to a version of a song about Yarrow I know ("Oh mother dear make me my bed/ make it both long and narrow/ for he who died for me today/ I shall die for him tomorrow") - folk songs are not bothered by copyright, simply by what is best! This song is well known - type it into the EFDSS catalog and you will get 34 results, though of course the town varies massively! A good version is found here.]

The True Lovers (or Lord Lovel) - a folksong mentioning Kenton (possibly the Devon one?)

Kenton Church, Devon, 1982 - from John Salmon [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Lord Lovel he stood at his own castle gate,
Combing his milk-white steed,
When up came Lady Nancy Bell
To wish her lover good speed speed speed,
To wish her lover good speed.

" Where are you going, Lord Lovel ?" she said,
" Oh, where are you going ?" said she,
" I'm going my Lady Nancy Bell,
Strange countries for to see see see,
Strange countries for to see."

" When will you come back, Lord Lovel ?" she said,
" When will you come back to me ?"
"In a year or two, or three at most,
I'll return to my Lady Nancy cy cy,
I'll return to my Lady Nancy ?"

But he hadden been gone but a year and a day
Strange countries for to see,
When languishing thoughts came into his head
Lady Nancy Bell to see see see,
Lady Nancy Bell to see.

So he rode, and he rode on his milk-white steed,
Till he came to Kenton town,
When he heard St. Andrew's Church bells ring,
And the people all mourning around round round,
And the people all mourning around.

" Oh, what is the matter ?" Lord Lovel, he said,
"Oh, what is the matter ?" said he,
" A Lord's Lady is dead," an old woman said,
" And some call her the Lady Nancy cy cy,
And some call her the Lady Nancy."

So he ordered the grave to be opened wide,
And the shroud to be turned down,
And then he kissed her clay-cold lips,
Till the tears came trickling down down down,
Till the tears came trickling down.

Lady Nancy died as it might be to-day,

Lord Lovel he died as to-morrow,
Lady Nancy, she died out of pure, pure grief,
Lord Lovel, he died out of sorrow sorrow sorrow,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.

Lady Nancy was laid in the cold churchyard,

Lord Lovel was laid in the choir ;
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of his a sweet brier rier rier,
And out of his a sweet brier.

They grew and they grew to the church steeple top,

And then they could grow no higher,
So there they entwined in a true-lovers-knot,
For all true lovers to admire mire mire, 

For all true lovers to admire.

Sung by Mr. Ted Ward, at a harvest supper, September, 1893."

Hewett 1900

Map - Kenton

[Some tunes and words exists here, Roud No. 48, one from Sabine Baring-Gould's manuscripts, that looks the same.  It is also Child Ballads N° 75. A good rendition is found here, though 'Kenton Town' is now 'Fair London Town'.  The Kenton here could well be the Kenton in Devon, by Berry Pomeroy Castle, seeing as Hewett collected her stories in Devon, and especially in this area - However Kenton church is dedicated to All Saints, and not specifically to Saint Andrew - it could be the Kenton in London!]

Two small snatches of lore from Yarde and Williton, Somerset

The Grave-free church at Williton - by Rob Farrow [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

[Only a short post this week because I have been away in an electric-free holiday in wildest Wales. On the way back we stayed with relatives who have just moved into Yarde, in Somerset, between the Quantocks and Exmoor.  They told me two little bits of folklorish information they had picked up. 

The first was about their home hamlet of Yarde, which they where told had been moved wholesale to its present position because a certain local lady of the manor had not liked the peasants spoiling her view. The Archaeologist in me thinks this is unlikely as the buildings are all of different ages, from the 16th to 19th century, and also because they are quite big and well to do houses. However it could relate to some houses in peticular - my relatives house used to be home to a collection of different industries, each with their own room. Perhaps some peasants where moved to the already existing hamlet from elsewhere.  Either way the moving of people from their ancestral lands on the whims of an aristocrat is a far from unique story (e.g. at Okehampton Castle.)

The second bit of folklore related to Williton, and a church there. Someone connected to the church was implicated in the murder of Thomas a' Beckett, and as a punishment for this connection the church was not permitted to hold burials. Although all other services continued burial happened in the next church. This is why to this day the church does not have a single gravestone by it...]

Map - Okehampton
Map - Williton
Map - Yarde

Good Friday doles at Ideford

Ideford Church - By Derek Harper [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"A practice obtains at Ideford, near Newton Abbot, of picking up alms from the donor's tomb on Good Friday on each succeeding year. The rector and churchwardens stand at one end of the flat tableshaped monument, and there place the coins upon the surface, while the recipients of the charity come one by one to the other end of the tombstone and pick up the money. This custom has been uninterruptedly in force for more than three hundred years."

Hewett 1900

Map - Ideford

Devon charm to cure the Kings Evil, or Scrofula, or cervical tuberculous lymphadenopathy .

King's Evil, Scrofula, or cervical tuberculous lymphadenopathy are all the same disease.

"After morning service in the parish church, the nearest male relative, in the case of a woman ; or in the case of a man, the nearest female relative, stations him or her self, on the right-hand side of the porch, holding his or her hat, into which young men (or women), between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one, drop a penny to the number of thirty. The pennies so collected are changed for a silver half-crown. The centre of this coin is cut out, and the outer ring is suspended as a charm to the neck of the afflicted person. The centre piece is reserved until the next funeral takes place, when it is dropped into the grave just before the coffin is lowered into it."

Hewett 1900

Dream divination on Saint Mark's Eve in Devon

Landscape with a Graveyard by Night by Matthias Withoos (1627-1703)

"Repair to the nearest churchyard as the clock strikes twelve, and take from a grave on the south side of the church three tufts of grass, and on going to bed place them under your pillow, repeating earnestly three several times,

The eve of St. Mark by prediction is blest,
Set therefore my hopes and my fears all to rest :
Let me know my fate, whether weal or woe ;
Whether my rank's to be high or low ;
Whether to live single or to be a bride, 

And the destiny my star doth provide. 

Should you have no dream that night, you will be single and miserable all your life. If you dream of thunder and lightning, your life will be one of great difficulty and sorrow."

Hewett 1900

[This bit of lore in Hewett 1900, and another I have not included on this blog, are found verbatim in  Memoirs of extraordinary popular delusions, Volumes 1-2 By Charles Mackay who copies them from Mother Bridget's "Dream and Omen" book - no source can be found for this so it may well be these things never appeared in Devonshire before the publication of Hewett's book...]

The Ghostly boat of the Bottoms - Part 2

Ghost Ship - By George Grie (self-made, http://www.neosurrealismart.com) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia Commons

"...[cont.] They, kept a boat in the cove, and would start in it at daybreak, disappear out at sea, and never return till it was night; nay, sometimes they remained out all night if the weather were stormy. At times they remained on shore arid hunted, generally, however, at night, and in storms, when the cry of the hounds, ringing out at midnight, would startle the sleeping country.

The stranger died, and his coffin was carried by the peasants to the churchyard, the servant and the dogs following it. But when the earth was thrown into the grave, servant and dogs all disappeared, and were never seen again. At the same moment their boat disappeared from the cove. Ever since that time the ghostly vessel sails at certain periods in awful silence and mystery to the pirate's grave."

Valentine (undated)

Map -The Bottoms

Map - Croft Pasco Pool

Map - Chygwiden area

Other Graves at Glastonbury Abbey

Joseph of Aramathea - west front of Glastonbury parish church

 "Here also are buried Coel, king of Britain,; father of the Empress Helena, mother of Constantine the Great, Edmund the Elder, King Edgar, Edmund Ironside, St. Joseph of Arimathea (it is said), St. Patrick, St. Dunstan, and Gildas, one of our earliest historians."

Valentine (undated)

Map - Glastonbury Abbey

Edmund Ironside

The grave of Arthur and Guinever - part 1

Arthur Rackham (1917). "How Mordred was Slain by Arthur, and How by Him Arthur was Hurt to the Death". - Public Domain, from The Romance of King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table Alfred W. Pollard. New York: The Macmillan Company.

"King Arthur, wounded in one of his battles, was taken to Glastonbury to be cured of his wounds by these healing waters. And after his last fatal battle, that of Camlan in Cornwall, in which he fell, he was conveyed by sea to Glastonbury to be buried. In course of time the spot where he slept was forgotten; but a Welsh bard singing to Henry II., as he passed through Wales on his way to Ireland, of the great British king, declared that Arthur slept between two pyramids at Glastonbury. When the king returned to England he told the abbot what the bard had sung, and search was at once made for the grave. One of our chroniclers, Giraldus Cambrensis, was an eye-witness of what ensued, and has recorded it.

Digging down seven feet below the surface, a huge broad stone was found with a small thin plate of lead in the form of a cross, bearing in rude letters the Latin inscription: "Hic jacet sepultus Inclytus Rex Arturius in Insula Avalonia." Nine feet deeper they found the trunk of a large tree hollowed out for a coffin, in which lay Arthur, and by his side Guinever..."  [cont..]

Valentine (undated)

The Death of King Rufus - part 4

"...The sun sank; twilight fell on the forest, and still the Red King lay bleeding beneath the oak. A charcoal burner returning from his day's work found the body at last, and putting it into his cart took it to Winchester, where the slain monarch was finally buried.

Kingsley, in his quaint imitation of a ballad of the period, gives a somewhat different version of the story:-

THE RED KING. The king was drinking in Malwood Hall,
There came in a monk before them all;
He thrust by squire, he thrust by knight,
Stood over against the dais aright;
And "The word of the Lord, thou cruel Red King,
The word of the Lord to thee I bring.
A grimly sweven I dreamt yestreen;
I saw thee lie under the hollins green
And through thy heart an arrow been
And out of thy body a smoke did rise,
Which smirched the sunshine out of the skies.
So if thou God's anointed be,
I rede thee unto thy soul thou see:
For mitre and pall thou hast y'sold,
False knight to Christ, for gain and gold;
And for this thy forest were digged down, all
Steading and hamlet and churches tall;
And Christe's poor were ousten forth,
To beg their bread from south to north;
So tarry at home and fast and pray,
Lest fiends hunt thee in the judgment day."
The monk he vanished where he stood;
King William sterte up wroth and wod;
Quod he: "Fools' wits will jump together,
The Hampshire ale and the thunder weather
Have turned the brains of us both, I think;
And monks are curst when they fall to drink.
A lothly sweven I dreamt last night,
How there hoved anigh me a griesly knight,
Did smite me down to the pit of hell,
I shrieked and woke, so fast I fell.
There's Tyrrel as sour as I, perdie,
So he of you all shall hunt with me,
A grimly brace for a hart to see:" The Red King down from Malwood came,
His heart with wine was all aflame,
His eyne were shotten, red as blood,
He rated and swore wherever he rode. They roused a hart, that grimly brace,
A hart of ten, a hart of grease,
Fled over against the kinge's place.
The sun it blinded the kinge's ee,
A fathom beyond his hocks shot he;
"Shoot thou," quod he, "in the fiende's name!
To lose such a quarry were seven years shame!"
And he hove up his arm to mark the game
Tyrrel he shot full light, God wot;
For whether the saints they swerved the shot,
Or whether by treason men knowen not,
But under the arm, in a secret part,
The iron fled through the kinge's heart. Tyrrel he smiled full grim that day,
Quod "Shooting of kings is no bairn's play;"
And he smote in the spurs and fled fast away."

 Valentine (undated)
Map - Malwood Castle
Map - Winchester

Childe the Hunter

Childe's Tomb, from Wikipedia thanks to Herbythyme, under a Creative Commons license.

"Down the valley to the east [of Nun's Cross], is White Works, a hamlet from which perhaps the most romantic of all the Dartmoor memorials may be reached: Childe, the Hunter's Tomb. It lies exactly under Fox Tor, the mire of that name occupying the basin between White Works and the tomb, which is visible from between the houses to those who know it. But the impassable bog makes a straight line impossible ; to reach it we must keep close to the wall on the north and cross the stream at the lower end of the mire. Then by skirting the higher ground we can get at the tomb, which consists of several stones, surmounted by a cross, but is not the original structure; and here we stand upon the scene of one of the most picturesque stories of the moor, the legend of Childe the Hunter.

Mr Baring Gould preserves among Songs of the West the Dartmoor ballad that tells the story :-

It so befell, as I've heard tell,

There came the hunter Childe;

All day he chased on heath and waste,

On Dart-a-moor so wild.

Cold blew the blast, the snow fell fast,

And darker grew the night ;

He wandered high, he wandered low,

And nowhere saw a light.

His knife he drew, his horse he slew

As on the ground it lay:

He cut full deep, therein to creep

And tarry till the day.

The wind did blow, fast fell the snow,

And darker grew the night;

Then well he wot, he hope might not 

Again to see the light.

So with his finger dipped in blood.

He scribbled on the stone-

One is grateful to the ballad for telling us on what substance Child wrote that last will and testament, found when teh snow had melted beside his dead body:-

They fyrste that fyndes and brings mee to my grave,

My landes of Plimstoke they shall have.

In due course of time the discovery of the body and the writing was reported, when it occurred to the monks of Tavistock that the very best persons to be the heirs of Childe were themselves, to the advantage of the abbey. So they started for Fox Tor to fetch the body. Meanwhile the men of Plymstock determined to have the honour of burying Childe and inheriting the property themselves.  But they allowed the monks to have the arduous task of getting to Fox Tor and bringing the corpse over the moor. A number of them waited at the bridge over the Tavy, with the intention of stirring up a fight and carrying off the body before it reached Tavistock Abbey. But the monks suspected assault, and tricked them in a truly monkish manner, throwing a light bridge over the river at another point, by which they quietly carried the hunter's body to the abbey, while the Plymstock worthies waited elsewhere. Childe the hunter was buried with due honours, and the abbey inherited the property. The bridge remained, and was called Guile Bridge.

The learned have rejected this legend, but we would rather let it rest, as it adds to the weird picturesqueness of this part of the moor. The vandalism of the farmer has unfortunately destroyed the original monument, which was spoken of in Risdon's time as one of the three remarkable things about the forest. Crossing has given, in his Ancient Crosse, and also in an article dealing with the subject in his series of papers on the Folk-Rhymes of Devon , a full account of its destruction, and of the subsequent discovery by him of its site and various parts.

After crossing the moor to see Childe's Tomb, one is impressed with the feeling that whoever found his body and brought it back for burial merited the reward."

Cresswell 1921

Map - Childe's Tomb
Map - Plymstock
Map - Tavistock
[The location of Guile Bridge appears to have been lost.]

Binjie Geare or Benjamin Gayer of Okehampton

"The church [one in Okehampton] stands away from the town, approached by a grand avenue of beech-trees. Unfortunately the entire body of the church burnt down in 1842; only the tower, late perpendicular work, remains to represent the earlier structure, which existed from 1241. One monument is preserved: this is in the vestry and commemorates Benjamin Gayer (or Geare), mayor of Okehampton, who died in 1701 - the original "Binjie" who haunts Cranmere Pool."

Cresswell 1921

Map - All Saints Church, Okehampton
Map - Cranmere Pool

Jay's Grave

"Westward of this is the Ashburton and Chagford road, by the side of which is Jay's Grave. Jay was a young woman who, many years ago, hanged herself at Cannon Farm, and it is said was buried here in a suicide's grave."

Cresswell 1921

 Map - Jay's Grave

Layon Cromlech/Dolmen/Quoit/Portal Dolmen

Cromlech at Layon - engraved by Scot, published in The Gallery of Nature and Art, 1814.

From ancestryimages.com

 "Not more than two miles from Penzance stands the celebrated cromlech of Lanyon -- often pronounced Lanine. This, like all the other cromlechs, marks, no doubt, the resting-place of a British chieftain, many of whose followers repose within a short distance of this, the principal monument."

Hunt 1903

[This view would no longer be supported archaeologically - portal dolmens where repeatedly used and reused, including, but not necessarily exclusively, for the deposition and re-use of human remains, possibly as a community 'ancestor' rather than an individual]

Map - Layon Cromlech

The Mermaids Vengence - part 16

"...The waves rolled around the rock on which they sat; they washed their seat. Walter was still in the female's grasp, and she lifted him to a higher ledge. The storm approached. Lightnings struck down from the heavens into the sands; and thunders roared along the iron cliffs. The mighty waves grew yet more rash, and washed up to this strange pair, who now sat on the highest pinnacle of the pile of rocks. Walter's terrors nearly overcame him; but he was roused by a liquid stream of fire, which positively hissed by him, followed immediately by a crash of thunder, which shook the solid earth. Tom Chenall's cottage on the cliff burst into a blaze, and Walter saw, from his place amidst the raging waters, a crowd of male and female roisterers rush terrified out upon the heath, to be driven back by the pelting storm. The climax of horrors appeared to surround Walter. He longed to end it in death, but he could not die. His senses were quickened. He saw his wicked companion and evil adviser struck to the ground, a blasted heap of ashes, by a lightning stroke, and at the same moment he and his companion were borne off the rock on the top of a mountainous wave, on which he floated; the woman holding him by the hair of his head, and singing in a rejoicing voice, which was like a silver bell heard amidst the deep base bellowings of the storm--

"Come away, come away,
O'er the waters wild!
Our earth-born child
Died this day, died this day.

"Come away, come away!
The tempest loud
Weaves the shroud
For him who did betray.

"Come away, come away!
Beneath the wave
Lieth the grave
Of him we slay, him we slay.

"Come away, come away!
He shall not rest
In earth's own breast
For many a day, many a day.

"Come away, come away!
By billows to
From coast to coast,
Like deserted boat
His corpse shall float
Around the bay, around the bay."

Myriads of voices on that wretched night were heard amidst the roar of the storm. The waves were seen covered with a multitudinous host, who were tossing from one to the other the dying Walter Trewoofe, whose false heart thus endured the vengeance of the mermaid, who had, in the fondness of her soul, made the innocent child of humble parents the child of her adoption."

Hunt 1903

The Mermaids Vengence - part 12

"...Walter was statue-like, and he awoke from this trance-like state only when the waves washed his feet, and he became aware that even now it was only by wading through the waters that he could return around the point of rocks. He was alone. He called; no one answered. He sought wildly, as far as he now dared, amidst the rocks, but the lovely woman was nowhere to be discovered.

There was no real danger on such a night as this; therefore Walter walked fearlessly through the gentle waves, and recovered the pathway up from the sands. More than once he thought he heard a rejoicing laugh, which was echoed in the rocks, but no one was to be seen. Walter reached his home and bed, but he found no sleep; and in the morning he arose with a sense of wretchedness which was entirely new to him. He feared to make any one of his rough companions a confidant, although he felt this would have relieved his heart. He therefore nursed the wound which he now felt, until a bitter remorse clouded his existence. After some days, he was impelled to visit the grave - of the lost one, and in the fullness of the most selfish sorrow, he sat on the sands and shed tears. The priest of the Oratory observed him, and knowing Walter Trewoofe, hesitated not to inquire into his cause of sorrow. His heart was opened to the holy man, and the strange tale was told--the only result being, that the priest felt satisfied it was but a vivid dream, which had resulted from a brain over-excited by drink. He, however, counselled the young man, giving him some religious instruction, and dismissed him with his blessing. There was relief in this. For some days Walter did not venture to visit his old haunt, the cottage of Chenalls. Since he could not be lost to his companions without greatly curtailing their vicious enjoyments, he was hunted up by Chenalls, and again enticed within the circle. His absence was explained on the plea of illness. Walter was, however, an altered man; there was not the same boisterous hilarity as formerly. He no longer abandoned himself without restraint to the enjoyments of the time. If he ever, led on by his thoughtless and rough-natured friends, assumed for a moment his usual mirth, it was checked by some invisible power. On such occasions he would turn deadly pale, look anxiously around, and fail back, as if ready to faint, on the nearest seat. Under these influences, he lost health. His uncle, who was really attached to his nephew, although he regretted his dissolute conduct, became now seriously alarmed. Physicians were consulted in vain; the young man pined, and the old gossips came to the conclusion that Walter Trewoofe was ill-wished, and there was a general feeling that Penna or his wife was at the bottom of it. Walter, living really on one idea, and that one the beautiful face which was, and yet was not, that of Selina, resolved again to explore the spot on which he had met this strange being, of whom nothing could be learned by any of the covert inquiries he made. He lingered long ere he could resolve on the task; but wearied, worn by the oppression of one undefined idea, in which an intensity of love was mixed with a shuddering fear, he at last gathered sufficient courage to seize an opportunity for again going to the cavern. On this occasion, there being no moon, the night was dark, but the stars shone brightly from a sky, cloudless, save a dark mist which hung heavily over the western horizon. Every spot of ground being familiar to him, who, boy and man, had traced it over many times, the partial darkness presented no difficulty. Walter had scarcely reached the level sands, which were left hard by the retiring tide, than he heard again the same magical voice as before. But now the song was a joyous one, the burthen of it being --

"Join all hands--
Might and main,
Weave the sands,
Form a chain,
He, my lover,
Comes again!"..."

Hunt 1903