The Good Red Earth
An excerpt from the beginning of:
CHAPTER I.
JACKDAWS AND HEROES.
SHINING upon the lap of Spring like a grey pearl, there lies an ancient and fortified manor house amid red Devon fallows, green hills, and orchard lands in full splendour of June. The hamlet of Lower Marldon straggles through a fertile valley of the west country hard by the sea; and at the confines of this village, where a sheaf of fir trees rises and tall elms ascend about the way, shall be found Compton Castle, whose time-stained face and crown of ivy appear above an old-world garden spread with flowers. Trim plots of familiar things lie smiling beneath the front of the ruin, and fragile blue and purple, crimson and gold, of immortal blossoms yearly renew their glory before this perish ing abode of former greatness. Weather-worn and rich in lichen-livery of years, the notable ruin stands. Above its windows sinister bartizans most grimly frown; tremendous walls, lofty as a prison's, ascend about the rear quarters of the castle; and not a few of its sombre windows and embattled towers remain intact to tell of former strength.
Where now jackdaws chiefly dwell and their harmonies echo, aforetime flourished the famous family of Gilbert; and for the Manor itself, before this stronghold arose upon it during the fifteenth century, it suffices to note that one Osolf held these happy valleys in the Confessor's time, that at Domesday Survey they pertained to Judhel of Totnes, and that during the reign of Henry II. the family of Maurice de Pola possessed them. Alice de Pola brought the Manor to the Comptons; and to the illustrious Gilberts it accrued in like fashion, for Joan Compton conveyed Compton Pole, as it was then called, to Jeffrey Gilbert for her partage in the second Edward's reign. Of their posterity are first remembered and evermore revered the sons of Otho Gilbert, whose lady, a maiden of the Champernowne family, bore not only Humphrey, the adventurer who discovered Gilbert's Straits and established the earliest British settlement of Newfoundland, but also his more famous uterine brother, Walter Ralegh. For upon that Otho Gilbert's passing,, his dame mated with Walter Ralegh of Fardel, and by him produced a prodigy : the poet, statesman, soldier, courtier, explorer, and first jewel of Elizabeth's Court. A noble matron truly must have been that Katherine, mother of two such heroes; and less only in honour to these knights were Sir Humphrey's brothers. Of these, Sir John, his senior, rendered himself acceptable to God and man by his manifold charities, his virtue and his activity in public concerns; while Adrian Gilbert is declared to have been a gentleman very eminent for his skill in mines and other engineering projects.
Here, within these walls, a tradition, more credible than most, affirms that the half-brothers, Sir Humphrey and Sir Walter, not seldom met; that Ralegh smoked his first pipe on English soil (though ancient habitations not a few claim that event); that the great men discussed their far-reaching plans together, while both basked in the sunshine of royal favour and universal acclaim. Yet, at the end of their triumphs, stealing grey along the avenue of years, Death, hideous in one case, violent in both, confronted each with his sudden dart.
Ancient chroniclers declare how, when the little 'Squirrel', a vessel of but ten tons burthen, was bearing Sir Humphrey upon his last voyage from Newfoundland, there took shape before his vision the spectre of a lion gliding over the sea, " yawning and gaping wide as he went," and belching forth a most horrible blast of sound. Upon this monster's disappearance, there rose a tempest, wherein, to calm the shipmen's fears, Sir Humphrey uttered godly wisdom, and, lifting his voice that all the company might hear, cried out, " We are as near to heaven here at sea as at land." Near, indeed, was the great Gilbert to his faith's haven, for that hurricane soon swallowed the little vessel and all thereon. Yet I think the good knight's memory is green; that his golden anchor, with a pearl at peak, badge of his sovereign's special grace, is not forgot; that his crest, a squirrel, whose living prototype still leaps in the old fir trees beside his castle, is yet had in remembrance; and also his motto, worthy of so righteous and valiant a gentleman: "Malem mori, quam mutare." The navigator passed to his great, restless resting-place in 1584; Sir Walter Ralegh, then busy with the colonisation of Virginia, did not kneel at Westminster and brush his grey hair from the path of the axe until Fate had juggled with him through four-and-thirty further years. Then his sword and pen finished their busy labours; his wise, beautiful head fell low at the will of a coward King; and the portion of the great, "well-doing, ill report," was won. At gloaming time, when the jackdaws make an end for the day,...
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CHAPTER I.
JACKDAWS AND HEROES.
SHINING upon the lap of Spring like a grey pearl, there lies an ancient and fortified manor house amid red Devon fallows, green hills, and orchard lands in full splendour of June. The hamlet of Lower Marldon straggles through a fertile valley of the west country hard by the sea; and at the confines of this village, where a sheaf of fir trees rises and tall elms ascend about the way, shall be found Compton Castle, whose time-stained face and crown of ivy appear above an old-world garden spread with flowers. Trim plots of familiar things lie smiling beneath the front of the ruin, and fragile blue and purple, crimson and gold, of immortal blossoms yearly renew their glory before this perish ing abode of former greatness. Weather-worn and rich in lichen-livery of years, the notable ruin stands. Above its windows sinister bartizans most grimly frown; tremendous walls, lofty as a prison's, ascend about the rear quarters of the castle; and not a few of its sombre windows and embattled towers remain intact to tell of former strength.
Where now jackdaws chiefly dwell and their harmonies echo, aforetime flourished the famous family of Gilbert; and for the Manor itself, before this stronghold arose upon it during the fifteenth century, it suffices to note that one Osolf held these happy valleys in the Confessor's time, that at Domesday Survey they pertained to Judhel of Totnes, and that during the reign of Henry II. the family of Maurice de Pola possessed them. Alice de Pola brought the Manor to the Comptons; and to the illustrious Gilberts it accrued in like fashion, for Joan Compton conveyed Compton Pole, as it was then called, to Jeffrey Gilbert for her partage in the second Edward's reign. Of their posterity are first remembered and evermore revered the sons of Otho Gilbert, whose lady, a maiden of the Champernowne family, bore not only Humphrey, the adventurer who discovered Gilbert's Straits and established the earliest British settlement of Newfoundland, but also his more famous uterine brother, Walter Ralegh. For upon that Otho Gilbert's passing,, his dame mated with Walter Ralegh of Fardel, and by him produced a prodigy : the poet, statesman, soldier, courtier, explorer, and first jewel of Elizabeth's Court. A noble matron truly must have been that Katherine, mother of two such heroes; and less only in honour to these knights were Sir Humphrey's brothers. Of these, Sir John, his senior, rendered himself acceptable to God and man by his manifold charities, his virtue and his activity in public concerns; while Adrian Gilbert is declared to have been a gentleman very eminent for his skill in mines and other engineering projects.
Here, within these walls, a tradition, more credible than most, affirms that the half-brothers, Sir Humphrey and Sir Walter, not seldom met; that Ralegh smoked his first pipe on English soil (though ancient habitations not a few claim that event); that the great men discussed their far-reaching plans together, while both basked in the sunshine of royal favour and universal acclaim. Yet, at the end of their triumphs, stealing grey along the avenue of years, Death, hideous in one case, violent in both, confronted each with his sudden dart.
Ancient chroniclers declare how, when the little 'Squirrel', a vessel of but ten tons burthen, was bearing Sir Humphrey upon his last voyage from Newfoundland, there took shape before his vision the spectre of a lion gliding over the sea, " yawning and gaping wide as he went," and belching forth a most horrible blast of sound. Upon this monster's disappearance, there rose a tempest, wherein, to calm the shipmen's fears, Sir Humphrey uttered godly wisdom, and, lifting his voice that all the company might hear, cried out, " We are as near to heaven here at sea as at land." Near, indeed, was the great Gilbert to his faith's haven, for that hurricane soon swallowed the little vessel and all thereon. Yet I think the good knight's memory is green; that his golden anchor, with a pearl at peak, badge of his sovereign's special grace, is not forgot; that his crest, a squirrel, whose living prototype still leaps in the old fir trees beside his castle, is yet had in remembrance; and also his motto, worthy of so righteous and valiant a gentleman: "Malem mori, quam mutare." The navigator passed to his great, restless resting-place in 1584; Sir Walter Ralegh, then busy with the colonisation of Virginia, did not kneel at Westminster and brush his grey hair from the path of the axe until Fate had juggled with him through four-and-thirty further years. Then his sword and pen finished their busy labours; his wise, beautiful head fell low at the will of a coward King; and the portion of the great, "well-doing, ill report," was won. At gloaming time, when the jackdaws make an end for the day,...
The Good Red Earth
An excerpt from the beginning of:
CHAPTER I.
JACKDAWS AND HEROES.
SHINING upon the lap of Spring like a grey pearl, there lies an ancient and fortified manor house amid red Devon fallows, green hills, and orchard lands in full splendour of June. The hamlet of Lower Marldon straggles through a fertile valley of the west country hard by the sea; and at the confines of this village, where a sheaf of fir trees rises and tall elms ascend about the way, shall be found Compton Castle, whose time-stained face and crown of ivy appear above an old-world garden spread with flowers. Trim plots of familiar things lie smiling beneath the front of the ruin, and fragile blue and purple, crimson and gold, of immortal blossoms yearly renew their glory before this perish ing abode of former greatness. Weather-worn and rich in lichen-livery of years, the notable ruin stands. Above its windows sinister bartizans most grimly frown; tremendous walls, lofty as a prison's, ascend about the rear quarters of the castle; and not a few of its sombre windows and embattled towers remain intact to tell of former strength.
Where now jackdaws chiefly dwell and their harmonies echo, aforetime flourished the famous family of Gilbert; and for the Manor itself, before this stronghold arose upon it during the fifteenth century, it suffices to note that one Osolf held these happy valleys in the Confessor's time, that at Domesday Survey they pertained to Judhel of Totnes, and that during the reign of Henry II. the family of Maurice de Pola possessed them. Alice de Pola brought the Manor to the Comptons; and to the illustrious Gilberts it accrued in like fashion, for Joan Compton conveyed Compton Pole, as it was then called, to Jeffrey Gilbert for her partage in the second Edward's reign. Of their posterity are first remembered and evermore revered the sons of Otho Gilbert, whose lady, a maiden of the Champernowne family, bore not only Humphrey, the adventurer who discovered Gilbert's Straits and established the earliest British settlement of Newfoundland, but also his more famous uterine brother, Walter Ralegh. For upon that Otho Gilbert's passing,, his dame mated with Walter Ralegh of Fardel, and by him produced a prodigy : the poet, statesman, soldier, courtier, explorer, and first jewel of Elizabeth's Court. A noble matron truly must have been that Katherine, mother of two such heroes; and less only in honour to these knights were Sir Humphrey's brothers. Of these, Sir John, his senior, rendered himself acceptable to God and man by his manifold charities, his virtue and his activity in public concerns; while Adrian Gilbert is declared to have been a gentleman very eminent for his skill in mines and other engineering projects.
Here, within these walls, a tradition, more credible than most, affirms that the half-brothers, Sir Humphrey and Sir Walter, not seldom met; that Ralegh smoked his first pipe on English soil (though ancient habitations not a few claim that event); that the great men discussed their far-reaching plans together, while both basked in the sunshine of royal favour and universal acclaim. Yet, at the end of their triumphs, stealing grey along the avenue of years, Death, hideous in one case, violent in both, confronted each with his sudden dart.
Ancient chroniclers declare how, when the little 'Squirrel', a vessel of but ten tons burthen, was bearing Sir Humphrey upon his last voyage from Newfoundland, there took shape before his vision the spectre of a lion gliding over the sea, " yawning and gaping wide as he went," and belching forth a most horrible blast of sound. Upon this monster's disappearance, there rose a tempest, wherein, to calm the shipmen's fears, Sir Humphrey uttered godly wisdom, and, lifting his voice that all the company might hear, cried out, " We are as near to heaven here at sea as at land." Near, indeed, was the great Gilbert to his faith's haven, for that hurricane soon swallowed the little vessel and all thereon. Yet I think the good knight's memory is green; that his golden anchor, with a pearl at peak, badge of his sovereign's special grace, is not forgot; that his crest, a squirrel, whose living prototype still leaps in the old fir trees beside his castle, is yet had in remembrance; and also his motto, worthy of so righteous and valiant a gentleman: "Malem mori, quam mutare." The navigator passed to his great, restless resting-place in 1584; Sir Walter Ralegh, then busy with the colonisation of Virginia, did not kneel at Westminster and brush his grey hair from the path of the axe until Fate had juggled with him through four-and-thirty further years. Then his sword and pen finished their busy labours; his wise, beautiful head fell low at the will of a coward King; and the portion of the great, "well-doing, ill report," was won. At gloaming time, when the jackdaws make an end for the day,...
CHAPTER I.
JACKDAWS AND HEROES.
SHINING upon the lap of Spring like a grey pearl, there lies an ancient and fortified manor house amid red Devon fallows, green hills, and orchard lands in full splendour of June. The hamlet of Lower Marldon straggles through a fertile valley of the west country hard by the sea; and at the confines of this village, where a sheaf of fir trees rises and tall elms ascend about the way, shall be found Compton Castle, whose time-stained face and crown of ivy appear above an old-world garden spread with flowers. Trim plots of familiar things lie smiling beneath the front of the ruin, and fragile blue and purple, crimson and gold, of immortal blossoms yearly renew their glory before this perish ing abode of former greatness. Weather-worn and rich in lichen-livery of years, the notable ruin stands. Above its windows sinister bartizans most grimly frown; tremendous walls, lofty as a prison's, ascend about the rear quarters of the castle; and not a few of its sombre windows and embattled towers remain intact to tell of former strength.
Where now jackdaws chiefly dwell and their harmonies echo, aforetime flourished the famous family of Gilbert; and for the Manor itself, before this stronghold arose upon it during the fifteenth century, it suffices to note that one Osolf held these happy valleys in the Confessor's time, that at Domesday Survey they pertained to Judhel of Totnes, and that during the reign of Henry II. the family of Maurice de Pola possessed them. Alice de Pola brought the Manor to the Comptons; and to the illustrious Gilberts it accrued in like fashion, for Joan Compton conveyed Compton Pole, as it was then called, to Jeffrey Gilbert for her partage in the second Edward's reign. Of their posterity are first remembered and evermore revered the sons of Otho Gilbert, whose lady, a maiden of the Champernowne family, bore not only Humphrey, the adventurer who discovered Gilbert's Straits and established the earliest British settlement of Newfoundland, but also his more famous uterine brother, Walter Ralegh. For upon that Otho Gilbert's passing,, his dame mated with Walter Ralegh of Fardel, and by him produced a prodigy : the poet, statesman, soldier, courtier, explorer, and first jewel of Elizabeth's Court. A noble matron truly must have been that Katherine, mother of two such heroes; and less only in honour to these knights were Sir Humphrey's brothers. Of these, Sir John, his senior, rendered himself acceptable to God and man by his manifold charities, his virtue and his activity in public concerns; while Adrian Gilbert is declared to have been a gentleman very eminent for his skill in mines and other engineering projects.
Here, within these walls, a tradition, more credible than most, affirms that the half-brothers, Sir Humphrey and Sir Walter, not seldom met; that Ralegh smoked his first pipe on English soil (though ancient habitations not a few claim that event); that the great men discussed their far-reaching plans together, while both basked in the sunshine of royal favour and universal acclaim. Yet, at the end of their triumphs, stealing grey along the avenue of years, Death, hideous in one case, violent in both, confronted each with his sudden dart.
Ancient chroniclers declare how, when the little 'Squirrel', a vessel of but ten tons burthen, was bearing Sir Humphrey upon his last voyage from Newfoundland, there took shape before his vision the spectre of a lion gliding over the sea, " yawning and gaping wide as he went," and belching forth a most horrible blast of sound. Upon this monster's disappearance, there rose a tempest, wherein, to calm the shipmen's fears, Sir Humphrey uttered godly wisdom, and, lifting his voice that all the company might hear, cried out, " We are as near to heaven here at sea as at land." Near, indeed, was the great Gilbert to his faith's haven, for that hurricane soon swallowed the little vessel and all thereon. Yet I think the good knight's memory is green; that his golden anchor, with a pearl at peak, badge of his sovereign's special grace, is not forgot; that his crest, a squirrel, whose living prototype still leaps in the old fir trees beside his castle, is yet had in remembrance; and also his motto, worthy of so righteous and valiant a gentleman: "Malem mori, quam mutare." The navigator passed to his great, restless resting-place in 1584; Sir Walter Ralegh, then busy with the colonisation of Virginia, did not kneel at Westminster and brush his grey hair from the path of the axe until Fate had juggled with him through four-and-thirty further years. Then his sword and pen finished their busy labours; his wise, beautiful head fell low at the will of a coward King; and the portion of the great, "well-doing, ill report," was won. At gloaming time, when the jackdaws make an end for the day,...
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940014861076 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | OGB |
| Publication date: | 08/10/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 332 KB |
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