Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens.
OLD Cormoran of Michael’s mountBy all his teeth he swore,That he would eat more butcher’s meat,Than a whole host from Cornwall’s coastOf ten or fifteen score.In Arthur’s reign this Giant lived;A Giant huge was he:His name was known in every town,From Devon’s border to Land’s-end,And eke from sea to sea.Six fingers on each hand he bore,Six toes upon each foot:An ox’s hide his glove supplied;And three times ten stout Cornish menCould sleep within his boot.And while he bathed his monstrous legs,And straddled in the seas,The bravest ship of Arthur’s fleetMight sail between his knees.His breath was like a gale of windAs now-a-days it blows:His sneeze was like a hurricane;And leagues around was heard the soundWhen he did blow his nose.His laugh was like a thunderclapIf e’er in jest he spoke;And the waves that lay in Michael’s bayShook, like a merry company,Responsive to his joke.Thrice every day he gorged his fill,And thrice he drank as well:One herd at least of salted swine,One hundred fatted beeves in brine,And eke a thousand casks of wine,Were stow’d within his cell.On every sabbath day at morn,While Church-bells toll’d for prayer,He took his club and took his horn,And took his belt with iron welt,And through the sea did fare.Then foraging the country roundHe pillaged every farm;And hogs and sheep and oxen tooWere fell’d by his strong arm:And then he bound them in his belt,And round his waist huge loads did pack,And swung the rest across his back,And sought his isle again:And not a man of all who dweltOr high or low within that shire,Or peasant, parson or esquire,But dreaded Cormoran.The very magistrates themselves,Who once a fortnight did dispenseKing Arthur’s justice at Penzance,Despite of justice and of lawHe made them cater for his maw:And tho’ they lived in rusty pride,Nor took their country’s pay,He spared them not for that a jot,But used to say the balance layUpon the country’s side.In sooth it was a grievous sight,And sad it is to tell,When Cormoran came o’er the sea,What fearful things befel:He had no shame of his ill name,No sneaking thief was born;But standing stiff on the main cliffNine times he wound his horn.Oh then I ween you might have seenAll nature in despair!The bird soar’d high toward the sky,The wild beast sought his lair.The sheep ran huddling to a nook,As they had seen a wolf:The snorting colt defied the brook,Or plunged into the gulf.The lazy-grouping steers, that grazedUpon the mountain fell,Forgot their pasture all amazed,And pour’d into the dell.The pigs that buried in the strawLay grunting snug and warm,Now helter-skelter scurried off,As if they smelt a storm.The watch-dog tore against his chain,As he would choke with rage:But when he listen’d once agen,He knew the voice of Cormoran,And skulk’d into his den.From every steeple on the coast,And eke from every tower,The village bells right merrilyDid chime the matins-hour;But when they heard th’ accursed blast,Each sturdy sexton stood aghast;The rope it glided from his grasp,And silence reign’d around:Save here and there where sudden jerkHad follow’d interrupted work,Like dying man’s convulsive gasp,There came a jangling sound.The lads and lasses, who that mornHad donn’d their high-day trim,Were pacing solemnly to prayer,In modest guise and prim.Apart they walk’d in decent pride,And scarcely ventured side by side:But hark! it was—it was—’Twas Cormoran! they knew the soundThat paralysed the country round,And hurried off in mass.Forgetful now of prayer and prideIn groups they thrid the forest wide,Or lurk in caves together:And here and there a plighted pairWander aloof in mute despair,Or crouch upon the heather.
OLD Cormoran of Michael’s mountBy all his teeth he swore,That he would eat more butcher’s meat,Than a whole host from Cornwall’s coastOf ten or fifteen score.In Arthur’s reign this Giant lived;A Giant huge was he:His name was known in every town,From Devon’s border to Land’s-end,And eke from sea to sea.Six fingers on each hand he bore,Six toes upon each foot:An ox’s hide his glove supplied;And three times ten stout Cornish menCould sleep within his boot.And while he bathed his monstrous legs,And straddled in the seas,The bravest ship of Arthur’s fleetMight sail between his knees.His breath was like a gale of windAs now-a-days it blows:His sneeze was like a hurricane;And leagues around was heard the soundWhen he did blow his nose.His laugh was like a thunderclapIf e’er in jest he spoke;And the waves that lay in Michael’s bayShook, like a merry company,Responsive to his joke.Thrice every day he gorged his fill,And thrice he drank as well:One herd at least of salted swine,One hundred fatted beeves in brine,And eke a thousand casks of wine,Were stow’d within his cell.On every sabbath day at morn,While Church-bells toll’d for prayer,He took his club and took his horn,And took his belt with iron welt,And through the sea did fare.Then foraging the country roundHe pillaged every farm;And hogs and sheep and oxen tooWere fell’d by his strong arm:And then he bound them in his belt,And round his waist huge loads did pack,And swung the rest across his back,And sought his isle again:And not a man of all who dweltOr high or low within that shire,Or peasant, parson or esquire,But dreaded Cormoran.The very magistrates themselves,Who once a fortnight did dispenseKing Arthur’s justice at Penzance,Despite of justice and of lawHe made them cater for his maw:And tho’ they lived in rusty pride,Nor took their country’s pay,He spared them not for that a jot,But used to say the balance layUpon the country’s side.In sooth it was a grievous sight,And sad it is to tell,When Cormoran came o’er the sea,What fearful things befel:He had no shame of his ill name,No sneaking thief was born;But standing stiff on the main cliffNine times he wound his horn.Oh then I ween you might have seenAll nature in despair!The bird soar’d high toward the sky,The wild beast sought his lair.The sheep ran huddling to a nook,As they had seen a wolf:The snorting colt defied the brook,Or plunged into the gulf.The lazy-grouping steers, that grazedUpon the mountain fell,Forgot their pasture all amazed,And pour’d into the dell.The pigs that buried in the strawLay grunting snug and warm,Now helter-skelter scurried off,As if they smelt a storm.The watch-dog tore against his chain,As he would choke with rage:But when he listen’d once agen,He knew the voice of Cormoran,And skulk’d into his den.From every steeple on the coast,And eke from every tower,The village bells right merrilyDid chime the matins-hour;But when they heard th’ accursed blast,Each sturdy sexton stood aghast;The rope it glided from his grasp,And silence reign’d around:Save here and there where sudden jerkHad follow’d interrupted work,Like dying man’s convulsive gasp,There came a jangling sound.The lads and lasses, who that mornHad donn’d their high-day trim,Were pacing solemnly to prayer,In modest guise and prim.Apart they walk’d in decent pride,And scarcely ventured side by side:But hark! it was—it was—’Twas Cormoran! they knew the soundThat paralysed the country round,And hurried off in mass.Forgetful now of prayer and prideIn groups they thrid the forest wide,Or lurk in caves together:And here and there a plighted pairWander aloof in mute despair,Or crouch upon the heather.
OLD Cormoran of Michael’s mountBy all his teeth he swore,That he would eat more butcher’s meat,Than a whole host from Cornwall’s coastOf ten or fifteen score.
OLD Cormoran of Michael’s mount
By all his teeth he swore,
That he would eat more butcher’s meat,
Than a whole host from Cornwall’s coast
Of ten or fifteen score.
In Arthur’s reign this Giant lived;A Giant huge was he:His name was known in every town,From Devon’s border to Land’s-end,And eke from sea to sea.
In Arthur’s reign this Giant lived;
A Giant huge was he:
His name was known in every town,
From Devon’s border to Land’s-end,
And eke from sea to sea.
Six fingers on each hand he bore,Six toes upon each foot:An ox’s hide his glove supplied;And three times ten stout Cornish menCould sleep within his boot.
Six fingers on each hand he bore,
Six toes upon each foot:
An ox’s hide his glove supplied;
And three times ten stout Cornish men
Could sleep within his boot.
And while he bathed his monstrous legs,And straddled in the seas,The bravest ship of Arthur’s fleetMight sail between his knees.
And while he bathed his monstrous legs,
And straddled in the seas,
The bravest ship of Arthur’s fleet
Might sail between his knees.
His breath was like a gale of windAs now-a-days it blows:His sneeze was like a hurricane;And leagues around was heard the soundWhen he did blow his nose.
His breath was like a gale of wind
As now-a-days it blows:
His sneeze was like a hurricane;
And leagues around was heard the sound
When he did blow his nose.
His laugh was like a thunderclapIf e’er in jest he spoke;And the waves that lay in Michael’s bayShook, like a merry company,Responsive to his joke.
His laugh was like a thunderclap
If e’er in jest he spoke;
And the waves that lay in Michael’s bay
Shook, like a merry company,
Responsive to his joke.
Thrice every day he gorged his fill,And thrice he drank as well:One herd at least of salted swine,One hundred fatted beeves in brine,And eke a thousand casks of wine,Were stow’d within his cell.
Thrice every day he gorged his fill,
And thrice he drank as well:
One herd at least of salted swine,
One hundred fatted beeves in brine,
And eke a thousand casks of wine,
Were stow’d within his cell.
On every sabbath day at morn,While Church-bells toll’d for prayer,He took his club and took his horn,And took his belt with iron welt,And through the sea did fare.
On every sabbath day at morn,
While Church-bells toll’d for prayer,
He took his club and took his horn,
And took his belt with iron welt,
And through the sea did fare.
Then foraging the country roundHe pillaged every farm;And hogs and sheep and oxen tooWere fell’d by his strong arm:And then he bound them in his belt,And round his waist huge loads did pack,And swung the rest across his back,And sought his isle again:And not a man of all who dweltOr high or low within that shire,Or peasant, parson or esquire,But dreaded Cormoran.
Then foraging the country round
He pillaged every farm;
And hogs and sheep and oxen too
Were fell’d by his strong arm:
And then he bound them in his belt,
And round his waist huge loads did pack,
And swung the rest across his back,
And sought his isle again:
And not a man of all who dwelt
Or high or low within that shire,
Or peasant, parson or esquire,
But dreaded Cormoran.
The very magistrates themselves,Who once a fortnight did dispenseKing Arthur’s justice at Penzance,Despite of justice and of lawHe made them cater for his maw:And tho’ they lived in rusty pride,Nor took their country’s pay,He spared them not for that a jot,But used to say the balance layUpon the country’s side.
The very magistrates themselves,
Who once a fortnight did dispense
King Arthur’s justice at Penzance,
Despite of justice and of law
He made them cater for his maw:
And tho’ they lived in rusty pride,
Nor took their country’s pay,
He spared them not for that a jot,
But used to say the balance lay
Upon the country’s side.
In sooth it was a grievous sight,And sad it is to tell,When Cormoran came o’er the sea,What fearful things befel:He had no shame of his ill name,No sneaking thief was born;But standing stiff on the main cliffNine times he wound his horn.
In sooth it was a grievous sight,
And sad it is to tell,
When Cormoran came o’er the sea,
What fearful things befel:
He had no shame of his ill name,
No sneaking thief was born;
But standing stiff on the main cliff
Nine times he wound his horn.
Oh then I ween you might have seenAll nature in despair!The bird soar’d high toward the sky,The wild beast sought his lair.
Oh then I ween you might have seen
All nature in despair!
The bird soar’d high toward the sky,
The wild beast sought his lair.
The sheep ran huddling to a nook,As they had seen a wolf:The snorting colt defied the brook,Or plunged into the gulf.
The sheep ran huddling to a nook,
As they had seen a wolf:
The snorting colt defied the brook,
Or plunged into the gulf.
The lazy-grouping steers, that grazedUpon the mountain fell,Forgot their pasture all amazed,And pour’d into the dell.
The lazy-grouping steers, that grazed
Upon the mountain fell,
Forgot their pasture all amazed,
And pour’d into the dell.
The pigs that buried in the strawLay grunting snug and warm,Now helter-skelter scurried off,As if they smelt a storm.
The pigs that buried in the straw
Lay grunting snug and warm,
Now helter-skelter scurried off,
As if they smelt a storm.
The watch-dog tore against his chain,As he would choke with rage:But when he listen’d once agen,He knew the voice of Cormoran,And skulk’d into his den.
The watch-dog tore against his chain,
As he would choke with rage:
But when he listen’d once agen,
He knew the voice of Cormoran,
And skulk’d into his den.
From every steeple on the coast,And eke from every tower,The village bells right merrilyDid chime the matins-hour;But when they heard th’ accursed blast,Each sturdy sexton stood aghast;The rope it glided from his grasp,And silence reign’d around:Save here and there where sudden jerkHad follow’d interrupted work,Like dying man’s convulsive gasp,There came a jangling sound.
From every steeple on the coast,
And eke from every tower,
The village bells right merrily
Did chime the matins-hour;
But when they heard th’ accursed blast,
Each sturdy sexton stood aghast;
The rope it glided from his grasp,
And silence reign’d around:
Save here and there where sudden jerk
Had follow’d interrupted work,
Like dying man’s convulsive gasp,
There came a jangling sound.
The lads and lasses, who that mornHad donn’d their high-day trim,Were pacing solemnly to prayer,In modest guise and prim.Apart they walk’d in decent pride,And scarcely ventured side by side:But hark! it was—it was—’Twas Cormoran! they knew the soundThat paralysed the country round,And hurried off in mass.Forgetful now of prayer and prideIn groups they thrid the forest wide,Or lurk in caves together:And here and there a plighted pairWander aloof in mute despair,Or crouch upon the heather.
The lads and lasses, who that morn
Had donn’d their high-day trim,
Were pacing solemnly to prayer,
In modest guise and prim.
Apart they walk’d in decent pride,
And scarcely ventured side by side:
But hark! it was—it was—
’Twas Cormoran! they knew the sound
That paralysed the country round,
And hurried off in mass.
Forgetful now of prayer and pride
In groups they thrid the forest wide,
Or lurk in caves together:
And here and there a plighted pair
Wander aloof in mute despair,
Or crouch upon the heather.