St. Michael’s Mount

by Sir Humphry Davy, 1779 – 1829

Majestic Michael rises-he whose brow
Is crowned with castles, and whose rocky sides
Are clad with dusky ivy; he whose base,
Beat by the storms of ages, stands unmoved
Amidst the wreck of things – the change of time.
That base, encircled by the azure waves
Was once with verdure clad; the towering oaks
Here waved their branches green – the sacred oaks,
Whose awful shades among the Druids strayed
To cut the hallowed mistletoe, and hold
High converse with their gods.

On Land’s End

by Sir Humphry Davy

On the sea
The sunbeams tremble, and the purple light
Illumes the dark Bolerium, seat of storms.
High are his granite rocks, his frowning brow
Hangs o’er the smiling ocean. In his caves
The Atlantic breezes murmur; in his caves,
Where sleep the haggard spirits of the storm.
Wild, dreary, are the frowning rocks around,
Encircled by the wave, where to the breeze
The haggard cormorant shrieks; and far beyond,
Where the great ocean mingles with the sky,
Are seen the cloud-like islands, grey in mist.

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