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Sonnets Round the Coast

by H. D. Rawnsley
  

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35

XV. MOUNT ST. MICHAEL, PENZANCE.

Mount of the crescent bay, and Cornish flood,
Green-based and grey with towers, about thy feet
The timid tides for awe will scarcely meet,
Since here th' Archangel Michael gleaming stood;
And at the sight eye-blind beneath his hood
The hermit shrank, Tregeagle left his seat,
And all the Fauns and Satyrs in retreat
Went screaming from the dark, mysterious wood.
The woods in Lyonnesse are overthrown,
Peace holds her pleasant castle on thy hill,
Below the beast makes havoc of the man;
Still England needs a Michael in her van
To slay the dragon, the archangel still,
High on his mount of battle must be shown.