THE RESTORATIVE POWER OF THE GERMAN OCEAN PROVED IN CERTAIN LOCALITIES.—ASSISTANCE GIVEN TO IT FROM THE STRANDING OF A VESSEL AT PURBECK, AND ON THIS COAST AT HASBOROUGH.—HILLS OF BLOWN SAND OR DUNES CONSIDERED—EXAMPLES OF THEIR STABILITY GIVEN AT WELLS, CLEY, &C., AND OF THEIR INSTABILITY AT ECCLES, PALLING, &C.—SEA-BREACH COMMISSIONERS APPOINTED.—THE ENGAGEMENT AND OPINIONS OF AN EMINENT ENGINEER IN 1804.—CONCLUDING REMARKS.
Examplesof Nature endeavouring to combat with herself are shown from the immense quantity of sand, shingle, &c., brought from low to high water mark, during the summer months, and should easterly winds prevail, the sand is removed towards the cliffs, and accumulates in some situations more than in others. Thus at Walcot,[47]a deposition of sea beach materials commenced in 1839, and gradually augmented from six to eight feet in depth, within a distance of one mile and a half, and in a space comprising a few yards, it attained a perpendicularity above the cliffs, extending to high water mark, and the tidal wave, even in a northerly wind, ebbed and flowed without disturbing its surface, from the above period to November,1843. A gale of wind then ensued from the north-west, upon a neap tide, which removed the greater part of the mound of sand, and a subsequent gale, upon a spring tide, in February, 1844, swept away the remainder.
A similar instance of accumulation was observed to have taken place on the Essex coast, commencing about the same period, and extended a distance of seven miles, which appeared in December, 1843, likely to remain.[48a]
The flat shores at Wells[48b]are considerably elevated above the depths of the ocean, into which they probably terminate in a gradual descent. The stranding of three large vessels off Winterton[48c]and Horsey,[48d]years ago, have possibly prevented its encroachments in these places.
When a vessel is stranded in shallow water, it usually becomes the nucleus of a sand-bank, as has been exemplified in several of our harbours, and this circumstance tends greatly to its preservation. Between the years 1780 and 1790, a vessel from Purbeck, laden with three hundred tons of stone, struck on a shoal off the entrance of Poole harbour, and foundered; the crew were saved, but the vessel and cargo remain to this day at the bottom.—Since that period, the shoal at the entrance of the harbour has so extended itself in a westerly direction, towards Peveril Point, in Purbeck, that the navigable channel is thrown a mile nearer that point. The cause is obvious; the tidal current deposits the sediment withwhich it is charged, around any object which checks its velocity. Matter also drifted along the bottom, is arrested by any obstacle, and accumulates round it, just as the African sand-winds raise a small hillock over the carcase of every dead camel exposed on the surface of the desert.[49a]
Upon the 18th day of February, in the year 1807, the Hunter cutter,[49b]during a heavy gale, struck on a shoal of sand in the offing, and finally drifted into a shallow near the shore, about a quarter of a mile to the northward of the old cart gap, at Hasborough, the stern part towards the cliff. In a very short time, sand, shingle, &c., accumulated around her, and completely filled the shallow to its utmost length. Within twelve months after, several shoals and shallows showed themselves opposite the town gap, evincing that the flowing of the tide had received a check, which proved an inconvenience to fishermen, as they had to heave their boats much farther before they could launch them into the sea; they were so aware that the Hunter cutter was the cause of this circumstance, that many a harsh expression did they utter towards her. In less than two years, more than one hundred yards could be paced from her bows on the ebbing of the tide to low water mark, and a large mound of sand accumulated between her stern and the cliff, which existed upwards of twenty years, and arrested the devastation of the sea directly opposite. From subsequent gales, however,the cliffs were taken away to the northward, the water intruded behind the mound of sand, and entirely removed it. A greater proof of the check the waves had received was observed at low water mark, a ridge of gravel was deposited and left undisturbed on the ebbing of the tide, extending from the Hunter cutter to Bacton coal gap, a distance of three miles to the northward; the first spring tide, however, swept away nearly the whole of the ridge of gravel, except that portion nearest the Hunter cutter.
Although the benefit derived to the preservation of the cliffs from the stranding of the vessel has been entirely lost, still to the present time no shallows have formed immediately adjacent to her, and the beach would have been higher than it now is, had her bulwarks, taffrel, &c., not been removed.
The irruption of the sea, through the breaches in the dunes of sand,[50a]in the neighbourhood of Eccles,[50b]Horsey,[50c]Waxham,[50d]&c., having been attended with serious inconvenience and spoliation, caused a body of highly respected and influential gentlemen to be appointed Sea-breach Commissioners, and in the year 1804, they engaged an eminent Engineer, since deceased, who, among other information, gave it as his opinion, that if the shallows were all filled up, and the beach kept on an inclined plane, the sea would never gain on the Norfolk coast. He did not, however, point out how such an assertion could be substantiated, or submit a plan toeffect so desirable an object; but the accident occurring to the Hunter cutter, the effects produced from her immersion in a cavity on the beach, the benefit in preserving the lands opposite for a long period, and the discontinuation of shallows forming in her immediate neighbourhood, at once indicate the truth of his assertion, and suggest the plan about to be submitted.
THE GENERAL FEATURES OF THE COAST.—THE VARIATION AND EFFECTS OF THE WIND FROM DIFFERENT POINTS CONSIDERED.
To combat successfully with so restless and powerful an agent as the ocean, requires great consideration and attention; for the obstacles presented on this coast are of no ordinary character. Among them may be enumerated powerful tides and currents, a confined space for a large body of water upon extraordinary occasions, cliffs of a soft yielding nature, a limited and irregular shore, with cavities and projections, either a dead flat or hollow descent from low water mark towards the cliffs, constitute a beach of the worst character. The shoals of sand in the offing, in certain localities, are numerous and irregular, their dimensions and situation variable, and while they afford a partial protection to the coast, are decidedly injurious to vessels liable to be stranded.
To make the sea subservient to our wishes, and agreeable to our design, in other words, to make it perform the duty of bringing its contents from the bottom of its waters towards the cliffs, to protect them, if possible, for ages, let us consider its auxiliary, the wind, the effects, whether beneficial or injurious.
The long-shore wind blowing from the north, but more particularly from the north-west, causes the water, upon a spring tide, to remove, as before observed, materials from the beach, to undermine the cliffs, and should a strong breeze have continued for two or three days previous from the south-east, and suddenly veer to the former point, a heavier sea will be the result on this part of the coast. For the waters of the ocean, having been kept back by the south-east wind, cannot escape so readily, had the superior force of what is commonly termed “the flood tide” from the north, a tidal wave derived from the Atlantic, not been checked. A small part of this wave passes eastward up the English Channel, and through the Straits of Dover, and then northwards, while the principal body of water, moving much more rapidly to a more open sea on the western side of Britain, first passes the Orkney Islands, and then turning, flows down between Norway and Scotland, and sweeps with great velocity along our eastern coast.
The lee shore wind, blowing from the north-east, removes the shoals of sand in the offing towards the shore, and wherever these find a resting place, from the suddenness of their removal, quicksands are sure to exist; fortunately, however, not to so considerable a depth as mentioned by the celebrated Scottish Bard, in the fate attending the Master of Ravensworth, but yet sufficiently alarming to render persons cautious how they venture upon their surface, especially on horseback. Wind blowing from the east produces these effects to a greater extent than from the north-east, and wind blowing from the south-east causes the sand on the sea-shore to be extremely loose and porous, while the north wind renders the sand firm, solid, and compact. Some years since, on one occasion, after the formation of these sands, a vessel laden with timber, was stranded at Trimingham, near Cromer. A waggon and horses being employed to convey the timber ashore, became immersed, and the latter could not be extricated, on account of their being attachedto the waggon, until life was extinct. On the same day, a lady, riding on horseback between Horsey and Waxham, met with a similar accident, and was with difficulty released from her perilous situation. When the wind changes to another quarter, these sands disappear, and shoals are visible in their former situation.
Too often does the unfortunate mariner experience the bitter effects of quicksands in immediate connection with the large shoal off Hasborough: while the surface on its inner side is covered with water eighteen or twenty inches deep, within a short distance is as many fathoms. Between the spaces loose sands exist to a great depth; and, therefore, only those well acquainted with this circumstance, can possibly escape destruction, for should a vessel strike the fore part of her keel on the more solid portion of the shoal, numerous instances can be adduced where the stern has sunk foremost into the quicksands, and hull, masts, and every thing belonging to her, have been engulphed in a very short time, and sometimes, probably, before those on board have had an opportunity to make their escape.
An off-shore wind on this coast blows from west to south, and causes all heavy bodies, stones, &c., to be brought towards the shore; which are left between high and low water mark on the ebbing of the tide.
THE GENERAL FEATURE OF THE CLIFFS CONSIDERED—CAUSES OF IRREGULARITY, AND THE GEOLOGICAL STRATA COMPOSING THEM.
Thecliffs[55]extending from Hasborough to or a little beyond Cromer, are found, upon approaching near, to be extremely irregular. In some places small promontories or points project, in others small bays are formed, according to the influence of the sea, and the materials composing their structure. Their perpendicularity is partially averted from the fallen masses deposited at their base; which, where the cliffs are lofty, are often considerable; arising either from the sand or clay beneath the more solid strata being removed; or the landslips which ensue, from fresh water springs abounding in certain localities. Thus, in the winter of 1825, a fallen mass was precipitated from near the light-house at Cromer, whichcovered twelve acres, extending far into the sea, the cliffs being two hundred and fifty feet in height; and Mr. Lyell observes, the undermining by springs has caused large portions of the upper part of the cliffs, with houses still standing upon them, to give way, so that it is impossible, by erecting breakwaters at the base of the cliffs, permanently to ward off the danger.
The wasting of the cliffs is also accelerated from other causes—the continuation of strong north-easterly winds, of drought producing fissures from their superior surface downwards, heavy rains, and after severe and successive frosts.
The cliffs generally consist of clay, sand, and loam. By some writers they have been termed mud cliffs, from their dark colour and general appearance. Mr. Lyell includes them in a series called the Boulder formation.
Mr. Woodward, in his Outline of the Geology of Norfolk, considers them to be of diluvial origin; but upon close inspection, they are found to contain strata and fossils which partake of the characters and may be ascribed to various parts of the tertiary period.
The cliffs form part of an extensive series, extending from Hasborough Lighthouses to Weybourne, north-west of Cromer, comprising a distance of about twenty miles, and are supposed continuously to rest upon chalk.
In some places the cliffs are very regularly stratified, presenting at various parts, layers of red and white sand, but in other places they are wholly devoid of stratification, exhibiting one continuous mass of till.
This position of the various strata will be found pretty correct:—
Tertiary
Diluvial
1 Brown clay: containing bones of the horse, ox, &c.
2 Till
Newer Pliocene
3 Crag
4 Fresh water, lacustrine, lignite, &c.
Older Pliocene
5 Blue clay
6 Red gravel
containing bones of elephants, rhinoceros, &c.
Eocene
7 Green sand: with bones of extinct mammalia.
8 Chalk
The entire series of these cliffs bears evidence of great and successive changes; the strata, in many places, are folded and bent, and superimposed upon others, which have undergone no dislocation whatever. On the till, with an even horizontal surface, beds of laminated clay and sand are seen to repose, succeeded by vertical, bent, and contorted beds, having a covering of coarse gravel and flints.
Between Bacton and Mundsley, small pits or furrows may be seen at various distances, from the top of the cliffs filled with fragments of white chalk; regular strata being superimposed. Many of these furrows are several feet in width and depth. In the till, to the east of Bacton, these furrows are again largely developed.
The till and marl, layers of which are met with towards Mundsley, frequently present grooved surfaces, and at different places appear to dip into the beach, the grooves left being filled with superimposed sand. The gravel also takes a like dip.
While on the one hand there are evidences which prove the slow deposition of some of these strata, on the other there are proofs of great convulsions and derangement.
As a regular description of the separate strata may not prove uninteresting, let us inquire into the first—
This term is a provincial word, widely used in Scotland for similar masses of unstratified matter, which contain boulders; and the same term has been applied by Mr. Lyell to this part of the Norfolk strata.
The till is of a dark blue colour, somewhat resembling that of the London clay, and has been classed by some writers with that formation, because of the boulders with which it abounds. Mr. Woodward calls it blue clay. A positive distinction between this and the regular blue clay, however, must be made.
This till forms a large portion of the cliffs between Hasborough and Mundsley, rising in some places from twenty to nearly eighty feet in perpendicular height.—The whole of its organic remains appears to have been washed from other formations, to be deposited in it, and it contains, mingled with them, fragments of almost every rock of the secondary and primary series; comprehending immense blocks of granite, porphry, greenstone, oolite, lias, chalk, pebbles, trap, micaceous chist, sand-stones of various kinds, chert, marl, &c. Near Hasborough it is much intermingled with chalk.
The second stratum, as we descend beneath the till, is the
A layer of which, between the watch-house and coal gaps at Bacton, has been termed by Mr. Lyell hard ferruginous crag. It consists of several thin plates, containing compressed wood, fragmentary and whole shells, intermixed with clay, gravel, and white sand. This bed forms a dip towards the north-west, having a support of red sand on the one side, and green sand on the other. A section of the crag is more largely developed at Cromer, Runton, and Weybourne. Between Bacton coal gap and Mundsley, vertical layers of crag occur, composed of thickly cemented fragments of shells.
Immediately beneath the crag occur those formations which are generally termed Fresh Water, consisting of lignite and lacustrine deposits.
At several spots between Hasborough and Mundsley, these deposits may be examined. They contain many species of shells, with fish and bones of mammalia.
The first of these occurs at a place called Ostend, between Hasborough and Bacton, about half a mile from the latter place. It is composed of bluish mud, with occasional patches of brown clay, and extends several yards along the beach. This formation was discovered by Mr. Green, in August, 1841.
About two hundred yards from the forest peat at Bacton, the second lacustrine bed occurs. It is confined tooccasional patches about the middle of the cliff, near the watch-house gap. The shells are deposited in thin layers of sand and blue clay, containing much wood, which appears as if bored by some insect.
The third lacustrine formation is at the village of Mundsley, and is distinguished from the other cliffs by its dark muddy appearance. Its height is about twenty feet, and it extends one hundred yards along the beach.
Mr. Lyell, referring to this bed, says, “It consists of brown, black, and grey sand, and loam mixed with vegetable matter, sometimes almost passing into a kind of peaty earth, containing much pyrites.”
This name has been given to extensive forest beds, containing much carbonized wood.
The deposit prevails very generally along the Norfolk coast, and may be instructively examined at Hasborough, Bacton, Mundsley, Trimingham, and Cromer.
At Bacton extensive sections are laid bare after high tides. They are mostly formed of black peaty earth, which may be separated into thin layers, and has generally an aluminous taste, and abounds with pyrites.
At Bacton the depth of these sections, from the top of the cliff, is about five feet; at Ostend, between Bacton and Hasborough, about thirty, and at Mundsley, one hundred feet.
These deposits are occasionally mixed with masses of red sand, containing pipes of hard clay.
This formation presents the appearance of a wood, having been overthrown and crushed in situ; for after strong north-west winds, the stumps of the trees may be seen really standing, with their strong roots extended, and intermingling with each other. In the winter of 1840–41, Mr. Green measured some of these trunks, which were then exposed about a foot from the root.—One measured five feet eleven inches round, and the other five feet.
Whilst at Bacton this bed is formed of black peaty earth, at Ostend it is mixed with a greenish sand. Mr. Lyell speaks of that at Hasborough as “laminated blue clay, about one foot and a half in thickness, part of the clay being bituminous, and inclosing compressed branches and leaves of trees.”
Mr. R. C. Taylor, in his Geology of Eastern Norfolk, observes of the deposit generally:—“It consists of forest peat, containing fir cones and fragments of bones; in others of woody clay; and elsewhere, of large stools of trees, standing thickly together, the stems appearing to have been broken off about eighteen inches from the base.”
The Rev. James Layton, cited by Mr. Fairholme in his Geology, states, in a letter, “the line of crushed wood, leaves, grass, &c., frequently forming a bed of peat, extends just above low water mark. About this stratum, numerous remains of mammalia are found, the horns and bones of at least four kinds of deer, the horse, the ox, hippopotamus, rhinoceros, and elephant. These fossilremains are found at Hasborough and its neighbourhood, on the denuded clay shore. At Mundsley, they are found in the cliff. This stratum may be seen as the underlying formation, along the whole line of beach from Eccles to Mundsley.”
At Cromer, Mr. Simons has observed, beneath the drift, several feet below high water mark, a bed of lignite, in which were found the seeds of plants, &c. He also observed ten or more trees, in the space of half an acre, exposed below the cliffs eastward of that town, the stumps being a few inches, all less than a foot, in vertical height, some no less than nine or ten feet in girth, the roots spreading from them on all sides, throughout a space of twenty feet in diameter.
Mr. Richard Taylor believes this bed, as visible at Hasborough, to be an extension of the well-known stratum at Watton cliff and Harwich. “There is,” he says, “evidence sufficient to prove that it extends more south than Palling, even as low down as Winterton, and Caister; also at Lowestoft.”
The two last strata nearest the chalk are the
These two beds “seem to have been deposited contemporaneously, as they are much intermixed, and every where contain the same species of mammalian remains. From the unusual quantity of bones contained in these strata, they have been provincially termed the Bone Rocks, but from the immense quantity of elephants’ bones annually exhumed, they may, for the sake of distinction,be termed the Elephant Beds.” In some places the blue clay is deposited upon the red gravel.
The red gravel appears to be composed of rolled materials, which no doubt have been brought to this place from some distance. It comprehends a mixture of red sand and gravel, ferruginous and ochraceous nodules; blue clay, peat, sulphur, loam, flints, pebbles, masses of granite, porphry, fragments of and whole bones, and is much mineralized by iron.
These rocks are traceable to a considerable distance beyond Cromer.
The immediate bed upon which the strata rests appears to be
This is met with about half a mile north-west of Mundsley, about low water mark, and for upwards of a mile forms the beach. Near Trimingham three very remarkable protuberances, which rise up and form a part of lofty cliffs. Further northward, masses of chalk are included in the drift, or crop out in the interior, at a short distance from the shore, as at Overstrand, near Cromer, where a pit has been worked, in which the chalk is in a very disturbed and shattered state. At Cromer, the chalk has been again detected, and is every where the fundamental rock, lying about the level of low water, and rising on the north of that town, to the height of some yards above the level. At Sherringham it ascends above high water mark, and enters largely, from thence to Weybourne, into the strata of the cliffs.
From the appearance then of so much chalk in the immediate neighbourhood, and some of it apparently in an undisturbed state, as may be seen by its horizontal layers of flint at Sherringham, beyond doubt its existence may be concluded both to the east as well as the north.
In the year 1836, the humerus bone probably of the Great Mastodon, was found at Bacton, after a very high tide, one side of which, from the appearance it presents, must have reposed upon chalk. This bone was discovered in the red gravel, which, in many places, is the nearest bed to the chalk. Fragments of chalk are attached to the bone.
In the early part of this year the tibia probably of the same animal, was exposed, and obtained after a high tide by Mr. Green, in whose possession it still remains.
OBSERVATIONS UPON THE CLIFFS CONTINUED.—LAND-SPRINGS, THEIR INJURIOUS EFFECTS, WITH PLAN TO COUNTERACT THEM.—REDUCTION OF THE CLIFFS CONSIDERED ADVISABLE, ESPECIALLY WHERE GREAT IRREGULARITIES IN SAND DUNES EXIST, WITH A PLAN TO INCREASE THEIR HEIGHT WHERE NECESSARY.
Havingconsidered the cliffs with respect to the contour they present, the different strata composing their structure, the injury they experience from the atmospheric air, from drought, from heavy rains, from severe and successive frosts, and from the formidable visitations of the German Ocean against their base; yet, they possess an internal enemy peculiar to themselves, which in certain localities is more formidable than the ocean itself—these are the Land-springs previously alluded to.
To check their baneful influence is a task that requires consideration, for although we know their existence, we cannot tell whether they arise from a broad or a narrow surface, at a great depth, or at a considerable distance from whence they are seen to issue; and although so serious in their consequences, yet the extent arising from such contingencies, on this part of the coast, is generally limited.
Wherever they abound, the cliffs ought, where practicable, to be reduced from a perpendicular to an inclined plane; then let stakes, or rather strong piles, be driven in a parallel direction to the extent required, and sufficiently deep into the solid strata beneath, at short distances one from another, with splines fastened horizontally, or what would be preferable, strong wooden faggots interposed between the piles and the cliffs, especially where the materials consist of a loose texture; these would be found efficient, until a more natural, solid, and lasting support could be obtained.
Great benefit might be derived by sinking wells on the inner or land side of the cliffs, subjected to their influence; for at Trimingham, the loss of four acres and a half of land, mentioned in a previous chapter, is primarily attributed to a foolish individual, who a few months before filled up three wells in the immediate neighbourhood.
The question now comes—would it not be advisable to remove generally, where practicable, the taller, cliffs?—Possibly it would.
1st. The air in heavy gales of wind would not be so much condensed against their base, and add so much weight to the waves when nearing the shore as is now evidently the case, and the latter would be less liable to disarrange the legitimate beach during its formation.
2ndly. Wherever land-springs abound, an egress for the fresh water would ensue, without causing shoots of land to take place, where the former exist beyond or rather above the reach of the stakes recommended, which might retard the formation of the legitimate beach.
3rdly.—It will be decidedly applicable, where dunes or hills of blown sand from their irregularity, produced from the north-east winds, are reduced to an extent liable to admit an irruption of the sea, observable at Eccles, Palling, &c.
And lastly. The application of a plough in a locality where such fissures exist, upon the plan recommended in the ensuing chapter; and due attention to the transplanting the marram[67]from time to time as required, will accomplish the rest without directly interfering with the land belonging to private individuals on the inner side of those banks.
THE AUTHOR’S PLAN FOR EVENTUALLY COUNTERACTING THE INJURIOUS EFFECTS OF THE GERMAN OCEAN ALONG THE EASTERN COAST OF NORFOLK, COMPRISED WITHIN A DISTANCE OF THIRTY MILES, EXTENDING FROM WINTERTON-NESS TO OR A LITTLE BEYOND CROMER.—A PLAN FOR THE ERECTION OF JETTIES SUBMITTED, &C.
Theknowledge gained upon this interesting subject, the instances adverted to in the former chapter, prove almost beyond a doubt, that the question—Whether art can arrest the progress of the German Ocean along the Norfolk coast? may be answered in the affirmative.
The first and greatest desideratum necessary to be obtained is a bold shore, formed by a legitimate beach, a term applied by the eminent engineer, previously alluded to, who stated its ascent should be three inches and a half in the yard, which would realize seventeen feet and a half in two hundred and ten yards; a height which no sea upon this coast could ever reach.
From there being plenty of materials in the offing, the ascent could be more gradual, which would be preferable, for a two-fold object must be kept in view; the one, for the preservation of the lands in the interior; the other, for the safety of mariners, should misfortune attend andcompel them to run their vessel ashore. Besides the more abruptly a body presents itself, whether natural or artificial, to the almost irresistible force of the tidal wave, when called into excessive action, the less it is likely to remain stable and compact. It will therefore be necessary to ascertain the extent of the shoals existing in the offing, and the elevation likely to be realized may easily be calculated.
A single row of piles driven into the beach at right angles to the shore, wherever a shallow exists, will be sufficient, with plank fastened to them, to encourage the materials, brought by the tidal wave and current, to be retained and lodged against them. The length of the piles necessary, must depend upon the supposed elevation required, taking into consideration, not only the depth of the sand lying at the bottom of the shallow, but also the strata beneath. In a very short time, by gradually adding the plank, the shallow will become filled up, and the tidal wave will pass over without disturbing its surface, the same plan must be adopted wherever a shallow exists at low water mark, but possibly the difficulty of applying the plank in that situation cannot be so easily accomplished; consequently a greater number of piles will be required, as they must be inserted near to each other.
After a shallow has been filled to the level of the beach then existing, and the upper part of the pile still projecting, let plank, if necessary, be gradually added about one or two feet in breadth at a time, as the deposition accumulates.
Proceeding onwards into the sea as opportunity offers,some portion of the shoals will be removed into the shallows; another, probably, will be carried towards the cliffs. To facilitate this object, let a long tined harrow be fastened to the stern of a boat, which being urged by men, will loosen the materials on the surface of a shoal; and the flowing of the water will carry them, if the wind is in a favourable quarter, towards the shore, and thus will the beach become a consolidated body, with superabundant materials deposited at high water mark: these of course must be removed towards the cliffs. If the materials consist principally of sand, a plough might be employed with considerable advantage, turning the furrows inward towards the cliffs; on the contrary, should stones predominate, they must be deposited at the base of the cliffs. Easterly winds will remove the loose dry sand towards and fill up the spaces between them. Many suggestions, however, to expedite the work will present themselves upon inspection and trial.[70]
The distance required from one row of piles to another must also depend upon circumstances. Wherever the sea reaches in, should a shallow or flat exist, there piles will be necessary, as well as to the southward of it, which will greatly accelerate the deposition of materials where they are so much required.
The breakwater, shewing the supposed elevation of the beach from the deposit of sand. D. Hodgson, delt. C. Graf, Lith. to Her Majesty
Discrimination will also be necessary in the application of the piles; for a minute and continuous observer will perceive it frequently happens, the alteration of a current and the wind favouring it, the sea will reach in towards the cliffs, and undermine and excavate one locality, whileanother, previously visited, will become filled up by materials dislodged from the former place.[71]In the latter instance, piles will not be required to be applied immediately, for probably some of the materials, irregularly accumulated, will be requisite to be shifted to their former situation. Hence the reason of applying piles to the southward and not to the northward of a locality requiring immediate assistance.
Again, considerable difference in the insertion of the piles must be made according to the contour the beach presents; between a distance continuously flat, and a shallow that only requires to be filled up. In the latter a few piles inserted from west to east, will answer extremely well; in the former, an opposite direction must be pursued; that is, from the north-west to the south-east, according to the accompanying plate, for the sweep of the water must be taken into consideration, and also the necessity for encouraging sea-beach materials to accumulate to the southward of a groin, as well as to the northward. Upon this our final success depends.
While the above plan presents the least resistance to the tidal wave when most agitated, the tidal current will be checked and rendered powerless, and the gradual elevation, from the deposition of materials, will produce the effects exhibited by the breaking of the waves on a shelving shore; and, as they roll onwards, their powerwill become diminished, by wanting weight and depth to aid their motion.
In several places on this beach, the sand, shingle, &c., do not exceed four feet in depth, and in some instances are still shallower; thus at Cromer, a large body of calcareous deposition exists, and projects above the beach at low water mark; but between that and the cliffs, now temporarily protected by a sea wall, a shallow or cavity of considerable length and depth must have existed: this induced the inhabitants, who had witnessed the good the jetty had effected (previous to the injury Cromer sustained, and alluded to in a former chapter), to insert a groin immediately to the southward, or rather westward, of the town, eighty-four yards in length.
The shallow or cavity became filled up to the top of the groin, and a quantity of sea-beach material, consisting principally of sand, seemed disposed to accumulate against the base of the walls in June, 1844, but unfortunately the groin was not sufficiently extended towards the sea; the piles, instead of projecting above, did not equal in height the mound alluded to, and consequently it is not so efficacious as it would otherwise have been.
The jetty too has some influence towards prohibiting a still further proof of the efficacy of this groin, at least along shore to the northward, or rather eastward; for rude in construction, it is ill calculated to effect a twofold object, which ought to arise from it. The platform resting upon piles of huge dimensions in height and diameter, appears to have been one continuous length, from the base of the cliffs to the elevated rock at low water mark. Its considerable altitude above the surface of thebeach, its unwieldy structure, from the timbers employed, and above all, its extent towards the sea being limited, accounts for its partial destruction in the storm alluded to. The dashing of the waves against the piles, even in calm weather, gives an impetus to the water at their base, and produces eddies or whirlpools, which prevent sea-beach materials accumulating in the immediate vicinity.
The inhabitants, however, appear so far to have been aware of this circumstance, that in repairing the jetty, they had recourse to iron stanchions, presenting a flat surface towards the sea; but the same impediment to utility still exists.
Let us now consider whether a jetty could not be constructed to afford not only a delightful promenade, the necessary appendage to a frequented watering place, but the retention of sea-beach materials, and the consequent elevation of the beach.
For this purpose let wooden piles of English oak be employed, of requisite length to enter the solid strata beneath the surface of the beach. The extremity for insertion must be pointed and shod with iron, and the opposite end must be protected with a rim of the same material, which ought to project above each pile, so as to leave a cavity sufficiently deep to receive the one end of an iron pillar, about eight or more inches in diameter, if considered necessary; and the length of this iron pillar being determined, its upper part can be readily formed to support the wooden plank constituting the platform of the jetty, to which it can be fastened. Now, if the piles are inserted into the beach in a continuous range towards the sea, leaving a space between each pillar, from twoto three feet apart, it may readily be inferred, that the desirable object will be realized, and a permanent good will be obtained. The expense, in the first instance, will of course be considerable, but its durability and usefulness ought to supersede such an obstacle.
It is a source of congratulation to observe considerable economy in the expenditure which so great an undertaking requires, can be effected by using, in a general way, the Pinus Sylvestris, or red fir, grown in the neighbouring plantations;[74]these, if taken down in the winter months, trimming them, and depositing them in the sea, in readiness for insertion as opportunity suits, will retain their resinous properties in the greatest abundance, and prevent the exudation, which an exposure to the spring and summer months would inevitably produce. Upon the resin they contain their toughness depends, and by adopting the above plan, and using those small in diameter, the instrument necessary for propelling them into the beach, will not disturb the surface of the pile most exposed to its influence. The following instance will prove their durability, and that a careful insertion of the piles is only necessary to render their stability certain, even if extraordinary gales should cause the legitimate beach to be disturbed.
At Mundsley, several years ago, not within the memory of the oldest inhabitant, some fishermen drove four piles, six inches in diameter, into the beach, between highand low water mark, for the purpose of forming what is termed a coy, for containing lobsters caught at sea, until an opportunity for their disposal occurred. To the piles were attached some boards, so as to form a square, within which was placed a box for their reception; and a piece of wood, fastened upon the top, prevented the box from being disturbed by the water. At length, however, it became disused, the boards attached to the piles gave way, but the latter still remain firmly imbedded in the strata beneath, and their tops are only visible when north and north-west winds prevail, the sand lying around, above, and between them being then removed.
The shipowner, and above all the hardy sailor, cannot but rejoice at the prospect of obtaining a broad beach upon an inclined plane, for should a vessel be driven on in ever so heavy a gale, instead of having to contend with the cheerless prospect now before them, rendered not only formidable, but terrible, from the numerous shoals existing on this coast, there would be only one, and the vessel would arrive at its destination in a more gradual manner; her keel would become almost immediately impacted in the sand to such an extent, as to render her steady; for the waves having to attain an ascent, would be checked in their career, and for want of depth, would neither be able to injure the vessel nor destroy the mariner: hitherto, the great power they possess has, in many instances, dashed the former to pieces after she had struck the beach, and the latter has been hurled towards it, either too suddenly, or by their rebounding, swept into the depths below; while he, poor creature, so long as consciousness or presence of mind exists, uses his feeble efforts to reach the blessed shore, but, alas! too frequently in vain; he either sinks, to be wafted to another,a lifeless, mangled corpse, or arrives too late to be saved, even if the vibration of the heart exists, for want of proper accommodation and attention. If a legitimate beach could be once formed, a little exertion and assistance from those on shore, would be able to rescue him from the now almost inevitable destruction.
THE CONCLUSION.
Letnot the plan proposed in the previous chapter make too hasty an impression, or cause the reader to be too sanguine as to the result, however it may bear the semblance to truth and reality; but, if upon inquiry, consideration, and inspection, it is found to originate in facts, not theory alone, let no longer time be wasted in delaying a trial of its efficacy than is really necessary.
For a series of years, the wondrous body of waters has committed most dreadful ravages upon this and other coasts, not only to the loss of property, but what is of far greater consequence, human life.
Many countries, that have been destroyed, bear melancholy witness to the truth of history, and show the tops of their houses and the spires of their steeples, still standing at the bottom of the water. The German Sea has advanced upon the shores of Holland near Catt, that the ruins of an ancient citadel of the Romans, which was formerly built upon the coast, are now actually under water. In Friezland and Zealand, there are more than three hundred villages overwhelmed, and their ruins continue still visible on a clear day. The Baltic Sea has byslow degrees covered a large part of Pomerania, and among others destroyed and overwhelmed the famous port of Vineta.
One of the most remarkable inundations recorded in history, occurred in the reign of Henry I., which overwhelmed the estates of the Earl Godwin, and formed the bank now called the Goodwin Sands.
In the year 1546, a similar irruption of the sea destroyed a thousand persons in the territory of Dort, and a yet greater number round Dullart. To these accidents several more might be added; our own historians and those of other countries abound with them; almost every flat shore of any extent being able to show something it has lost, or something it has gained from the sea.
There are some shores on which the sea, where it has overflowed, and after remaining perhaps some ages, has again retired of its own accord, or been driven back by the industry of man, which, if applied in the case submitted, would, we earnestly pray, verify the words contained in the 5th chapter of the prophet Jeremiah, and the 22nd verse. And should this design be found to answer, who is there can deny that, by continued attention and perseverance, not only will the lands in future be protected, but those which now appear lost, may in after years be regained, and that the saving of human life will be considerable.
There are many lands in Norway, Scotland, and the Maldivia Islands, that are at one time covered with water, at another time free. The country round the Isle of Ely, in the time of Bede, about a thousand years ago, wasone of the most delightful spots in the whole kingdom; it was not only cultivated, and produced all the necessaries of life, but grapes also, that afforded excellent wine. The accounts of the time are copious in the description of its verdure and fertility, its rich pastures covered with flowers and herbage, its beautiful shades and wholesome air. But the sea breaking in upon the land, overwhelmed the whole country, took possession of the soil, and totally destroyed one of the most fertile vallies in the world; its air, from being dry and healthful, from that time became unwholesome, and the small part of the country, which by being higher than the rest escaped the deluge, was soon rendered uninhabitable from its noxious vapours. The island continued under water some centuries, till at last the sea, by the same caprice which had prompted its invasion, began to abandon the earth in like manner. It has continued for some ages to relinquish its former conquests; and although the inhabitants can neither boast the longevity nor the luxuries of the original possessors, yet they find ample means of subsistence, and if they happen to survive the first years of residence there, they are often known to arrive at a good old age.
On this coast several manors and large portions of the neighbouring parishes have been swallowed up; nor has there been any intermission, from time immemorial, in the ravages of the sea within a distance of twenty miles in length in which these places stood.
Many a poor fisherman has lost his life within sight of his parents, wife, and children, whose uplifted hands, streaming eyes, and shrieks of wild despair, proclaimed the pangs they endured, the agony they suffered, at losingtheir offspring, their husband, their father; and this too, when the tenderest ties of affection endeared them to each other; on a sudden lost, gone for ever! leaving those behind, who, if not bereaved of their senses entirely, remain during their sojourn in this vale of tears, for ever broken-hearted and disconsolate. This gloomy picture may appear over-drawn; but, alas! it is too true and melancholy to think of, where such accidents are frequent, and likely to continue till time shall be no more. But there is a ray of hope, that the object which appears so difficult to accomplish, may eventually be attained by the industry of man, with the means given and transmitted from the acquisition of knowledge, through an Allwise and Merciful Creator. Let us earnestly pray that His blessing may be bestowed upon our humble endeavours, to the fulfilment of this or a superior design.
Bacton or Backton, termed in the Doomsday Book Baketuna, is situated about four miles and a half north-east by east of North Walsham. From bordering on the sea, it continually experiences its devastating effects, which is the more to be regretted, as the land, about 1600 acres, is extremely fertile.
The Church, dedicated to St. Andrew, is a neat edifice, situated on elevated ground, about a quarter of a mile distant from the sea; and the interior, though unadorned with costly monuments, contains several neat stones to record departed worth.
The venerable relic of Norman grandeur Broomholme Priory, generally termed Bacton Abbey, is situated in the centre of the village, and from its being in a better state of preservation than probably any other in this county, which possesses the astonishing number of one hundred and twenty-two, is ever a source of interest to the lovers of antiquity.
The architectural style of the Priory of Broomholme appears to be that of the Norman and the early or lancet gothic united.
The editor of the General History of the County of Norfolk says: “A part of its architecture is so entirely of the same style as Norwich Cathedral, that it can scarcely be doubted but they are of the same era.”
The north transept, with its triforium arches, many of which still remain, bears some resemblance to those of Norwich Cathedral and the Church of St. Nicholas, Yarmouth.
The churches generally were built in the form of the latin cross, terminating at the end in a semi-circular apsis. The internal elevations consisted of three divisions, the lower arches—the triforium,occupying the space between the vaulting and external roof of the side aisles—and the celestory.
The circular arched entrance north of the transept appears to be built of Caen stone, and though plain, attests the origin of at least this part of the building. To the east a very lofty arch presents itself of the early gothic.
The chapter-house has a very large window of the early pointed gothic, supposed to have been added in the reign of Henry the VII, but it appears of a much earlier date.
The arcades of the face of the interior walls are very plain and simple; and are intended to take off the effect of a large extent of plain surface as the windows are but small. This appears to have been general in all Norman architecture.
The chimney is very modern, as the builders of the middle ages gave the preference to warming their halls by a central hearth, leaving the smoke to blacken the roof and escape as it best might by an open lantern.
The niche in the north transept, which bears traces of the ornamental gothic, was probably added with other parts of the building, as the abbey increased in fame and opulence.
The following are the supposed dimensions of the various buildings, &c.:—
The church
112 feet
North transept
22 feet by 18 feet
Chancel
23 feet
Quadrangle
73 feet by 47 feet
Cloister
76 feet by 21 feet
Large hall
100 feet by 24 feet
This priory was founded in 1113, by William de Glanville, in the reign of Henry the First, for monks of the order of Cluni, as a cell to Castleacre priory. Here the monks of the latter sent their junior brethren, when too much crowded at home, or refractory monks, to do penance for non compliance with monastic rules. Subsequently, Bartholomew de Glanville, who was Sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk, confirmed the priory of Castleacre to this priory.—The first prior was inducted to the abbey in the reign of Henry the First, and the last in the reign of Henry the Eighth.
The monks attached to this establishment appear, according to early historians, to have derived great profit from a cross, said to have been made out of that part of the Saviour’s cross to which the hands and feet were attached, particularly the part where it was most sprinkled with his blood; and Capgrave informs us, “that no fewer than thirty-nine were raised from the dead, and nineteen blind persons had their sight restored by it.”
In this priory were also preserved the “girdle for Zona, and milk of the blessed Virgin, and fragments of the crosses of St. Peter and St. Andrew.”
Such was the rage for relics in former times, that Mabillon, a Benedictine, complained that the altars were loaded with counterfeits; numerous spurious ones being every where offered to the piety and devotion of the faithful. He also observes, “that bones were often consecrated, which so far from belonging to the saints, probably never belonged to Christians!” To shew how far this fraud extended, the “girdle” of the Virgin Mary, said to have been possessed by the monastery of Broomholme, was shown to the visitors appointed by Henry the Eighth, in eleven different places.
The following “Legendary Fragment,” written by an intimate friend of the Author’s, may not be deemed inappropriate:—
Broomholme, thy ruined grandeur tellsA saddening tale of man’s decay,It speaks how all his glories pass,How all his relics droop away;How all his efforts fall a preyTo Desolation’s ruthless reign,How all the records he would traceThe hand of Time outblots again.
Thou hast looked forth for ages past,And seen the unwearying ebb and flowOf yonder calm and azure sea,Glittering in summer’s golden glow;And oh! how many a winter’s snowHath wrapped thee in its spotless vest,How many a Spring with cheerful handThy fair domain in beauty drest.
How oft within thy ruined faneHas many a haughty zealot knelt,And muttered o’er some holy prayerHis thankless heart had never felt:Thou’st heard the groans of souls that meltWith anguish and repentance cleft,Who, though engulphed in blood and crime,Had yet the hope of mercy left.
Oh! could yon gloomy pile revealThe thousand tales its records bear,And rend the dark mysterious sealThat Time has fixed for ever there,Perchance ’twould tell of pain and care,The same unvarying round of woe,The same dark chain of human illsThat links us all to life below.
’Twould tell of horrors dark and dire,That well the sternest heart might thrill,How man with rapine, sword, and fire,Had wrought with zeal his brother’s ill.Strange that ungrateful man should fillThe cup of woe, for pride or pelf,Yet madly, fondly, vainly hope,To taste the streams of bliss himself.
’Twould tell how bright, to Childhood’s eyes,The glory of existence seems,How swiftly life’s ensuing hoursLose one by one their golden gleams.How fondly Hope’s delusive dreamsThe hearts of men with smiles enslave,How those forlorn and weary here,May learn to look beyond the grave.
And Fancy often wanders back,Through Time on her enchanted wings,To snatch one legend from the gloomThat age about thy ruin flings.And thus Imagination singsIn fond conceit and varied lay,With all a Poet’s trembling pride,“A tale of Broomholme’s Abbey grey.”
The northern blast is sighing now,In every withered leafless bough,The dirge of the departed year;And the lone sea-bird’s dismal wail,That ever comes in storm and gale,Foretells the gathering tempest near.
The gloom of night is deepening fast,And on the wild and fitful blastThe stormy clouds like shadows fly;And darkened by their rapid flight,The pale and placid orb of nightIs shrouded from the seaman’s eye.
The vivid lightning’s transient flash,And then the deafening thunder crash,Proclaims the elemental war;And when the lightning leaves the skies,And when the rolling thunder dies,Hark, how the raging waters roar.
The wild waves that in wanton playFling to the winds their feather’d spray,But seem to mock the angry sky;But seem to sport in maddening pride,When all is dread and dark beside,And ghastly Death is hovering nigh.
* * * * * *
Morn: oh! how many anxious eyesHave watched the live-long night for thee,That from the threshold of the skies,Now looks o’er a tempestuous sea;The ocean that so softly brightHath mirror’d oft the Queen of Night,In lustrous lines of liquid light,And, oh! hath looked so calm and fair,As if no storm could gather there.Like to those living lights that shineSo pure and placid from the eyes,When at Religion’s holy shrineThe humble soul in rapture lies,And gloomy passions wake within,That lead away the heart to sin;Then all that looked so fair and bright,So pure in its own sportive glee,Becomes a torture and a blight,And wilder than the raging sea.
The gale now slowly dies away,With the approach of dawning day,And every wave that chafes the shore,Salutes the strand with sullen roar,And on the beach in sadness flingsAll that to Hope was once so sweet,Like trophies which a warrior brings,And lays them at his country’s feet.Records that blood and death had earned,When mercy from her shrine was spurned.Alas! when angry storms break forth,And wake the waters into wrath;Ah! then the treacherous heaving waveRolls over many a wanderer’s grave,And striving winds and foaming surgeSing many a mournful funeral dirge.
* * * * * *
Oh, Heaven! that such a lovely formCould brave so dread and fierce a storm,That one so beautiful and frailCould bide the harsh and bitter gale;And she who angels might have keptIn hallowed watches while she slept,Is pillowed on the sandy shore,Her lullaby the waters’ roar:And frowning skies in sorrow spreadTheir canopy around her head.
And now beside the maiden kneelsA messenger of fond relief,One who with sweet religion healsThe wounded spirit’s cankering grief;And raises from the chilly sandThe form that cold and lifeless lay,Sustains it with a trembling hand,And wraps it in his mantle grey.And from that frontlet wipes awayThe wanton water’s brackish spray.And now her wild and anxious gazeIs fixed upon his swarthy cheek,And faint and feebly she essaysHer wonder and despair to speak;And he who looked so calm before,Is moved to tears of sorrow now,That as he bends the maiden o’er,Those drops of pity damp her brow.He turns as though ashamed to ownHis heart has soft and yielding grown.And now is many an offer madeOf home and hospitable aid,By those who throng around the maid,To them the monk his charge commends,With promises of bounteous pay,And with a heart of trouble wendsHis steps to Broomholme Abbey “grey.”
* * * * * *
What charm is there in Nature’s smile,When Hope be dead the weary while,Or what in all the world can please,When aching hearts are ill at ease.And, oh! what rapture couldhefeel,Who left the fair and beaten trackOf sweet Religion’s holy zeal,And to the cold world wandered back;Whose only oriflamme should beThe sanguine cross of Calvary.Yes, he whose life had aye been spentIn self denial’s lowly creed,In turning sinners to repent,And share the Abbey’s thrifty meed.Yes, he who taught that heavenly loveShould all absorb the anxious mind,That hearts should look to hopes above,And leave the thoughtless world behind:Yes, he whose years though few had been,In much of deep devotion past,Who joy’d the smiling summer scene,And braved the winter’s bitter blast;Yes, he who told how dear and sweetWas holy influence to the mind,Who walked the world with weary feet,To succour helpless human kind;Yes, he forgot for beauty’s smile,His oath to Heaven, his hopes above,He gave his heart to pleasures wile,And lost his soul for woman’s love.Yes, he forgot the lowly mien,The holy mass, the rosary,And all that he had ever been,For hopeless love and misery.
Alas! that grief should ever wearSo pale a cheek with sorrow’s tear,That anguish and remorse should traceTheir furrowed lines on Beauty’s face,And early troubles lead the wayFor dread disease and slow decay.There is a canker of the breastThat pleasure cannot charm away,When the young heart becomes a preyTo dread disquiet, and un-rest.Day after day—day after day,Along that smooth and sandy shore,Did Herbert with fair Edith stray,Oft listening to the angry roarOf the wild ocean’s troubled sound,Till the fair earth had wandered roundThe presence of the glorious sun;And when the winter had begunTo shackle every limpid river,And silence every gurgling rill,And in the woodland on the hillThe aspen leaves had ceased to quiver,And every minstrel in the woodWas silent in its solitude,Those lovely birds that gaily chantedTheir songs of gladness from the grove;Ah! oft had Edith’s bosom pantedWith silent and supreme delight,When they have woke the lovely nightWith their melodious songs of love.Ah! many and many a lovely eve,Beneath the Heaven’s bespangled roof,Did her young heart delight to weaveThe future like a fairy woof:And with her Herbert by her side,In the sweet hush of eventide,When night-blown flowers of beauty rareWith perfume filled the stilly air;Often in those delightful hours,When the young dreamy heart of youthPlucks many a wreath from Fancy’s bowers,And knits them on the brow of truth.And once she said, with tearful eye,With quivering lip, yet tender tone,As if her weak and trembling heartWere half afraid its fears to own—“Herbert forgive, I know thou wilt,Or else my heart the wish would rue,Ah! if it bears the taint of guilt,In mercy, Heaven, absolve me too.When death with chilling hand shall severThe souls that nought but death could part,Herbert, a slow consuming feverIs burning at my brain and heart:I feel that death is calmly stealingOver my senses, day by day,Immortal longings and a feelingOf rapture charms my pulse away.Herbert, dear Herbert, my request,My last sad dying wish would be,That in the last embrace of death,My rest may then be near to thee;And by the willows that o’ershadeThe streamlet on the woodland hill,Our dust may be in sadness laid,And, though in death, together still.”Down Herbert’s cheeks the drops of woeCoursed sad and slowly—whilst the maidHer last and earnest wishes prayed.It was a dread and bitter throe—Such as fond hearts, when doomed to sever,At once unheeded and for ever,Pure ardent souls alone could know.He clasped her to his aching heart—Her brow, alas! how pale and chill;An icy glaze is o’er her eye,And yet her lips are quivering still.Ah! what is all the world to him?A sleepless night, a cheerless day,Now those endearing eyes are dim,And his twin spirit passed away.Now what to him is hill or dale,The summer’s sun or winter’s gale?Alas! they only tell a taleThat wakes a sorrow in his breast,Whispering o’er and o’er again,That hewasblest, supremely blest.Autumn or winter, summer or spring,What are they now to him?He walks the earth like a withered thing,Whose lamp of life is dim.
* * * * * * *
The keenest pangs of mortal woes,And Sorrow’s agonizing throes,The briny drops of MiseryThat overflow the mourning eye,When Hope has lost its faintest gleam,Will make the sweetest Eden seemA barren and unkindly waste.Alas! how bitter to the tasteIs that dark cup Remembrance fillsWith all the worst of human ills,And crowns with pleasures past away.As waters silently decayThe flinty rocks they hourly fret,So does the wildness of Despair,And the slow canker of Regret,The weary human bosom wear.
In Broomholme’s cloistered turret nowHerbert de Colville lowly lies,And withered is his burning brow,And haggard are his frenzied eyes;Those wandering orbs whose meteor lightShines wildly from their mortal spheres,When Fever like a deadly blight,The wavering sense with madness sears;It fills the eye and rends the heart,When Reason’s heavenly rays depart,And leave the mind so faint and dim.That it had ever been to him,To leave the Abbey’s holy wall,And from that sweet Religion fall,That should have been his hope—his all,When earthly scenes began to pall;That he should learn the bitter truth,When buoyant hours are all gone by,That the wild erring steps of youthMust be retraced, when health and primeHave left the frame, and when the eyeIs dim with pain and misery;When the lone heart is worn and weak,And the untiring hand of TimeHath written Manhood on his cheek.
And round about him watchful standThe Brethren of that holy band,Whose pure devoted lives are givenTo work the glorious will of Heaven.And their’s is not a bigot’s zeal,Whose dear delight is but to healThe souls that pant for sweet repose,O’erwhelmed with sin and worldly woes,To succour in the hour of needThe hearts that ache and inly bleed,Whose crown of glory is the meed,That Love upon the soul bestows;The sweet rejoicing of the heart,That well performs its mortal part;And not ingratitude nor slight,Nor the world’s cold and biting scorn,Contempt and scoffing hourly borne,Hath power to dim the holy lightThat Love around her votary flings,For she can wrap them in delight,And fan them with ambrosial wings,When death with calm approaches steepTheir senses in eternal sleep.
* * * * * *
“Alas! ’tis not my lowly couch,Nor Misery’s unkindest touch,No, nor the world so long forgot,Although in grief remembered now,Nor yet my lone and humble lot,That made me what ye see me now.She was perchance an erring light,A beauteous wandering meteor flame,That on my waking vision came,To cross my pathway like a blight;Or else a Heavenly spirit sentFrom a diviner element,Who left some star-lit world that liesFar off in azure’s seas than this,To teach my spirit what sweet bliss,Were in her home beyond the skies.But yet she passed,—she drooped away,Like a fair rose untimely blighted,Like an Hymeneal altar lightedOn a fond bridegroom’s dying day.There was a flush upon her cheek,That in my soul a sadness wrought,A warning voice that used to speak,The lesson of her life’s decay;There was a lustre in her eyes,Like a celestial glory caught,From some bright meteor of the skies.There was a music in her tone,Like the low wind of Autumn makes,Through the lone woods in sadness sighing,When the bright leaves and flowers are dying,As if it sighed for their sweet sakes.Although I know and feel she died,Her form and voice are with me now,These are the hands that from her browWere wont so often to divideThe tresses of her golden hair,When the night winds had wanton’d there.But when we wandered through the glade,And heard the night bird on the bough,Or side by side together prayed,Is but a fading vision now.”
* * * * * *
Broomholme’s Abbey is old and grey,And monks are kneeling the live-long day,From matin time till eve;Many and sweet are the Aves they say,And many the souls they shrieve.At midnight, censors were brightly swinging,And slowly and sad was the requiem singing,And masses are singing still,For him they laid in the willow’s shade,By the stream on the woodland hill.