The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker Edited from the original manuscripts and annotated copies together with a prefatory notice and bibliography by Alfred Wallis |
 |
THE SILENT TOWER OF BOTTREAUX. |
|
|
|
 | The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker |  |
16
THE SILENT TOWER OF BOTTREAUX.
Tintadgel
bells ring o'er the tide,
The boy leans on his vessel's side;
He hears that sound, and dreams of home
Soothe the wild orphan of the foam.
“Come to thy God in time!”
Thus saith their pealing chime:
“Youth, manhood, old age past,
“Come to thy God at last.”
The boy leans on his vessel's side;
He hears that sound, and dreams of home
Soothe the wild orphan of the foam.
“Come to thy God in time!”
Thus saith their pealing chime:
“Youth, manhood, old age past,
“Come to thy God at last.”
But why are Bottreaux' echoes still?
Her Tower stands proudly on the hill;
Yet the strange chough that home hath found,
The lamb lies sleeping on the ground.
“Come to thy God in time!”
Should be her answering chime:
“Come to thy God at last!”
Should echo on the blast.
Her Tower stands proudly on the hill;
Yet the strange chough that home hath found,
The lamb lies sleeping on the ground.
“Come to thy God in time!”
Should be her answering chime:
“Come to thy God at last!”
Should echo on the blast.
The ship rode down with courses free,
The daughter of a distant sea:
Her sheet was loose, her anchor stored,
The merry Bottreaux bells on board.
“Come to thy God in time!”
Rung out Tintadgel chime;
“Youth, manhood, old age past,
“Come to thy God at last!”
The daughter of a distant sea:
17
The merry Bottreaux bells on board.
“Come to thy God in time!”
Rung out Tintadgel chime;
“Youth, manhood, old age past,
“Come to thy God at last!”
The pilot heard his native bells
Hang on the breeze in fitful swells;
“Thank God!” with reverent brow he cried,
“We'll make the shore with evening's tide.”
“Come to thy God in time!”
It was his marriage chime:
“Youth, manhood, old age past,”
His bell must ring at last.
Hang on the breeze in fitful swells;
“Thank God!” with reverent brow he cried,
“We'll make the shore with evening's tide.”
“Come to thy God in time!”
It was his marriage chime:
“Youth, manhood, old age past,”
His bell must ring at last.
“Thank God, thou whining knave! on land,
“But thank, at sea, the steersman's hand,”
“The captain's voice above the gale—
“Thank the good ship and ready sail,”
“Come to thy God in time!”
Sad grew the boding chime:
“Come to thy God at last!”
Boom'd heavy on the blast.
“But thank, at sea, the steersman's hand,”
“The captain's voice above the gale—
“Thank the good ship and ready sail,”
“Come to thy God in time!”
Sad grew the boding chime:
“Come to thy God at last!”
Boom'd heavy on the blast.
Uprose that sea! as if it heard
The mighty Master's signal-word:
What thrills the captain's whitening lip?
The death-groans of his sinking ship.
“Come to thy God in time!”
Swung deep the funeral chime:
“Grace, mercy, kindness past,
“Come to thy God at last!”
The mighty Master's signal-word:
18
The death-groans of his sinking ship.
“Come to thy God in time!”
Swung deep the funeral chime:
“Grace, mercy, kindness past,
“Come to thy God at last!”
Long did the rescued pilot tell—
When grey hairs o'er his forehead fell,
While those around would hear and weep—
That fearful judgment of the deep,
“Come to thy God in time!”
He read his native chime:
“Youth, manhood, old age past,”
His bell rang out at last.
When grey hairs o'er his forehead fell,
While those around would hear and weep—
That fearful judgment of the deep,
“Come to thy God in time!”
He read his native chime:
“Youth, manhood, old age past,”
His bell rang out at last.
Still when the storm of Bottreaux' waves
Is wakening in his weedy caves:
Those bells, that sullen surges hide,
Peal their deep notes beneath the tide:
“Come to thy God in time!”
Thus saith the ocean chime:
“Storm, billow, whirlwind past,
“Come to thy God at last!”
Is wakening in his weedy caves:
Those bells, that sullen surges hide,
Peal their deep notes beneath the tide:
“Come to thy God in time!”
Thus saith the ocean chime:
“Storm, billow, whirlwind past,
“Come to thy God at last!”
1831.
The rugged heights that line the seashore in the neighbourhood of Tintadgel Castle and Church are crested with towers. Among these, that of Bottreaux, or, as it is now written, Boscastle, is without bells. The silence of this wild and lonely churchyard on festive or solemn occasions is not a little striking. On inquiry I was told that the bells were once shipped for this church, but that when the vessel was within sight of the tower the blasphemy of her captain was punished in the manner related in the Poem. The bells, they told me, still lie in the bay, and announce by strange sounds the approach of a storm.
| The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker | |