Ancient and Modern Light-houses

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Ticknor, 1888 - Lighthouses - 220 pages
 

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Page 32 - No STIR in the air, no stir in the sea: The ship was still as she could be; Her sails from heaven received no motion; Her keel was steady in the ocean. Without either sign or sound of their shock, The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; So little they rose, so little they fell, They did not move the Inchcape Bell.
Page 32 - And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. He felt the cheering power of spring ; It made him whistle, it made him sing; His heart was mirthful to excess, But the Rover's mirth was wickedness. His eye was on the Inchcape float; Quoth he, " My men, put out the boat, And row me to the Inchcape Rock, And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok.
Page 193 - House" shall mean the master, wardens and assistants of the guild, fraternity, or brotherhood of the most glorious and undivided Trinity and of St. Clement in the Parish of Deptford Strond, in the county of Kent...
Page 35 - Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair, He curst himself in his despair: The waves rush in on every side; The ship is sinking beneath the tide. But even in his dying fear. One dreadful sound could the Rover hear, — A sound as if, with the Inchcape Bell, The Devil below was ringing his knell.
Page 32 - Had placed that Bell on the Inchcape Rock; On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung.
Page 35 - On the deck the Rover takes his stand; So dark it is, they see no land. Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon, For there is the dawn of the rising moon.
Page 35 - Down sunk the Bell with a gurgling sound, The bubbles rose and burst around: Quoth Sir Ralph, 'The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok.
Page 32 - On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung. When the Rock was hid by the surge's swell, The mariners heard the warning Bell ; And then they knew the perilous Rock, And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.
Page 40 - Far in the bosom of the deep, O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep; A ruddy gem of changeful light, Bound on the dusky brow of night, The seaman bids my lustre hail, And scorns to strike his timorous sail.

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