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Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in hand, his charger's foaming
And lo! from far, as on they pressed, they saw a glittering
band, With one that ʼmid them stately rode, like a leader in the land. “Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he, The father, whom thy grateful heart hath yearned so long
His proud breast heaved, his dark eye flashed, his cheeks' hue
came and went; He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there dis
mounting bent; A lowly knee to earth he bent his father's hand he took : What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook ? That hand was cold! a frozen thing! — it dropped from his
like lead : He looked up to the face above — the face was of the dead ! A plume waved o'er that noble brow the brow was fixed
and white ! He met at length his father's eyes - but in them was no sight!
Up from the ground he sprang, and gazed; but who can paint
that gaze ? They hushed their very hearts who saw its horror and amaze : They might have chained him, as before that noble form he
stood ; For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his cheek
“ Father!" at length he murmured low, and wept like child
hood then Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike He thought on all his glorious hopes, on all his high renown; Then flung the falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down;
And, covering with his steel-gloved hand his darkly mournful
brow, “No more, there is no more,” he said, “ to lift the sword for
now; My king is false! my hope betrayed ! my father - 0, the
worth, The glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from earth!”
Up from the ground he sprang once more, and seized the
monarch's rein, Amid the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train ; And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war horse
led, And sternly set them face to face the king before the dead !
“ Came I not here, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss ? Be still ! and gaze thou on, false king ! and tell me, what is
this? The look, the voice, the heart I sought - give answer, where
are they? If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, put life in this cold
“ Into these glassy eyes put light: be still, keep down thine ire; Bid these cold lips a blessing speak — this earth is not my sire! Give me back him for whom I fought, for whom my blood was
shed! Thou canst not, and a king ? his dust be mountains on thy
He loosed the rein his slack hand fell;
upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, mournful glance, and fled from that
His after-fate no more was heard amid the martial train ;
LXII. - THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE.
The Eddystone rocks are a dangerous ledge, of six or seren hundred feet in length, in the English Channel, about fourteen miles south-west of Plymouth. They were long noted as the cause of numerous shipwrecks, and merchants and sailors were very desirous that a lighthouse should be placed there. But the building of a lighthouse on a spot covered by water at high tides, and exposed to all the storms of the ocean, was a very difficult task; and many supposed it could not be done at all. But in the year 1696, a gentleman named Winstanley agreed with government to erect a tower on the largest of these fatal rocks.
He found great difficulties in his way; but he was a man of a great deal of ingenuity, as well as a great deal of perseverance; and at the end of two years he erected a building, almost wholly of timber, secured to the rocks by enormous bolts of iron. It was lighted for the first time on the 14th day of November, 1698. But though the lantern was more than sixty feet above the level of the sea, such was the violence of the storms of the ensuing winter, and so high did the waves rise, that the lightroom was at times actually buried under water. In consequence of this, the height was carried to one hundred and twenty-four feet, and the base enlarged in proportion.
Thus it remained some years, and was of great benefit to vessels entering or leaving the Channel At length, some repairs being necessary, Mr. Winstanley went to the lighthouse to superintend them. While he was there, a dreadful storm came on, which strewed the whole southern coast of England with wrecks. When the day broke, not a vestige was to be seen of the Eddystone lighthouse, which had been completely swept away, and with it the architect and all his workmen. It was then remembered that Mr. Winstanley had once said he had such confidence in the strength of his structure that he should be willing to be in it in the greatest storm that ever blew. This destructive tempest occurred on the 26th day of November, 1703.
But Mr. Winstanley had shown that a lighthouse could be built on the rocks ; and several disastrous shipwrecks which took place there had proved how great a benefit it had been during the time it existed. After some time, Mr. John Rudyerd undertook to erect another. He availed himself of all the advantages which could be derived from Winstanley's plan, and avoided his errors. The lower part was solid to the height of twenty-seven feet, being composed of alternate layers of granite and oak timber. It was fastened to the rocks by strong bolts ; and the various parts of the timber were connected together by bars and spikes of iron, applied wherever a strain might be expected.
The building was ninety-two feet high, the diameter at the base twenty-three feet, and immediately under the balcony fourteen feet.' It was of a circular form ; and so ingenious was the design, and such was the judgment shown in the construction, that it seemed impossible it should ever be washed away by the waves of the ocean. This building exhibited a light for the space of forty-seven years, requiring, during that time, but little else than common attention to keep it in repair; and it might have withstood the effects of the winds and the waves for an unlimited period; but, in 1755, it was destroyed by fire.
This dreadful event took place in the month of December. There were three men residing at the Eddystone, to take care of the light. The day before the accident, they had been visited from Plymouth; and the report brought back was, that all was well. But in the night, when the keeper on the watch went to snuff the candles, he found the lightroom full of
smoke; and, on opening the door of the balcony, a flame burst from the inside, and the whole of the upper part appeared to be in a blaze. The man on watch instantly ran to awaken his companions; and these poor men, having no means of escape, being threatened with death by fire on the one hand and water on the other, were in the greatest alarm. One of them was looking up to the roof of the lightroom, when the lead happened to melt and fall upon him; and he was not only sadly scalded in the face and neck, but, what is very remarkable, a considerable' portion of the molten metal actually entered his mouth, and passed into his stomach ; whence, after his decease, it was extracted, and found to weigh seven
At daylight in the morning, the disaster was perceived from the shore, and boats hastened off to the assistance of the lighthouse keepers. They were found in a very miserable plight, crowded into a small hollow on the eastern side of the rock, to avoid the pieces of burning timber and red-hot bolts which were continually falling from aloft. The poor man who swallowed the lead lived a few days, and then expired in great agony.
Mr. Smeaton, the celebrated civil engineer, was next employed by the government to construct a lighthouse on the Eddystone rocks. Aware that it had once been washed away from the want of weight, and destroyed a second time in consequence of being built of combustible materials, he resolved to guard against these dangers by using only iron and stone in the erection of the new tower. He landed on the rock, for the first time, in April, 1756, and found that of the building erected by Mr. Rudyerd, only a few iron bars and bolts, fixed in the rock, remained.
Workmen were immediately engaged, and a vessel was moored near the rock for their accommodation. Rocks of granite were hewn on shore, and carried off to the rock, and the different layers of stone were connected to each other by bolts, and by an ingenious system of dovetailing. Mortar