POETRY.
FEAR not, Cornubia, whose enchanting borders
The young and emerald Atlantic laves, That I would join those rhythmical recorders Who hymn the glories of your coves and caves. My Muse, exempt from all divine disorders, A less exacting occupation craves.
I merely wish in rhyme to celebrate your Inimitable local nomenclature.
Tre, Pol, and Pen—upon this simple basis What gorgeous superstructures are upreared! Suggestive of extinct primeval races Who wild in woad across the downs careered, Who covered up their formidable faces In one continuous wilderness of beard, Long ere the sleek suburbanite or Surreyan Came down in motor-'buses to Polurrian.
Boconnoc and Polperro and Poltesco, Chysoyster and Chytodden and Gm Graze, Bosparva, Stithians, Praze-an-Beeble, Tresco, With unfamiliar melody amaze.
(The hungry tourist, picnicking al fresco, Can scarce without a thrill on Zennor gaze.) Probus recalls the Romans, so does Par ; And Gweek may rightly end this list bizarre.
I love your Saints, especially St. Blazey.
He must have been a frank and festive soul ; Whose motto was the Cornish of "Be aisy," Whose post was that of chaplain to King Cole. St. Gluvias' theology was hazy; He laid no ban upon the flowing bowl; And never bigotry inflamed the flock Ruled by St. Hilary or St. Enodoc.
Mawgan attracts me by its uncouth spelling (There are no piers or Pierponts on its strand); But Mevagissey, sibilantly swelling, Sounds like a roller hissing up the sand. Mullion, remote within her ramparts dwelling, Booms forth a diapason deep and grand. And when did reefs more ominous in name Than Manacles their sad sea-harvest claim fi But mid this strange and memorable muster Four names emerge triumphant from the rest :— Luxulyan, gleaming with exotic lustre ; Halzephron, tow'ring like a giant's crest ; Lostwithiel, blending in one fragrant cluster All the romance and magic of the West. Last, and fit cadence for a verse to die on, The noblest name in Cornwall, Marazion.
And yet, believing that a foreign label Can gild the glamour of this ancient coast, Railway directors, otherwise unable To lure the vulgar pleasure-hunting host, On hoarding and on poster and time-table
Of Cornwall's " Riviera " proudly boast—
As though St. Just in Roseland need entice The lovers of the Gambler's Paradise! C. L. G.
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