Robert Stephen Hawker

A good sword and a trusty hand,
A merry heart and true,
King James's men shall understand
What Cornish lads can do.…

THUS said the rushing raven
Unto his hungry mate,—
“Ho! gossip! for Bude Haven:
There be corpses six or eight.…

AT lone midnight the death-bell tolled,
To summon Annot’s clay:
For common eyes must not behold
The griefs of Benallay.Meek daughter of a haughty line,…

THEY meet once more! that ancient band,
With furrowed cheek and failing hand;
One peal to-day they fain would ring,
The jubilee of England’s king!They meet once more! but where are now…

’T IS eve! ’t is glimmering eve! how fair the scene,
Touched by the soft hues of the dreamy west!
Dim hills afar, and happy vales between,
With the tall corn’s deep furrow calmly blest:…

’T WAS a fierce night when old Mawgan died,
Men shuddered to hear the rolling tide:
The wreckers fled fast from the awful shore,
They had heard strange voices amid the roar.“Out with the boat there,” some one cried,—…

“BRING me,” he said, “that scribe of fame,
Symeon el Siddekah his name:
With parchment skin, and pen in hand,
I would devise my Cornish land.“Seven goodly manors, fair and wide,…

The Stow, or the place, of St. Morwenna;
hence, by abbreviation, Morwenstow.MY Saxon shrine! the only ground
Wherein this weary heart hath rest;
What years the birds of God have found…

“PLUNGE thy right hand in St. Madron’s spring,
If true to its troth be the palm you bring;
But if a false sigil thy fingers bear,
Lay them the rather on the burning share.”Loud laughed King Arthur when-as he heard…

HEAR how the noble Siward died!
The leech hath told the woful bride
’T is vain: his passing hour is nigh,
And death must quench her warrior’s eye.“Bring me,” he said, “the steel I wore,…

TINTADGEL bells ring o’er the tide,
The boy leans on his vessel side;
He hears that sound, and dreams of home
Soothe the wild orphan of the foam.…

On Morwenstow GlebeTHEY dreamed not in old Hebron, when the sound
Went through the city, that the promised son
Was born to Zachary, and his name was John,—
They little thought that here in this far ground,…

WATCH ye, and ward ye! a ship in sight,
And bearing down for Trebarra Height,
She folds her wings by that rocky strand:
Watch ye, and ward ye, a boat on land!Hush! for they glide from yonder cave…

HOW wildly sweet, by Hartland Tower,
The thrilling voice of prayer;
A seraph, from his cloudy bower,
Might lean to listen there.For time and place and storied days…

A SOURCE of gentle waters, mute and mild,
A few calm reeds around the sedgy brink,
The loneliest bird that flees to waste or wild
Might fold its feathers here in peace to drink.I do remember me of such a scene,…