{"id":2500,"date":"2016-10-04T16:06:16","date_gmt":"2016-10-04T15:06:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/?page_id=2500"},"modified":"2018-07-26T12:55:13","modified_gmt":"2018-07-26T11:55:13","slug":"tregeagles-poem","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/the-place\/lakes-of-launceston\/dozmary-pool\/tregeagles-poem\/","title":{"rendered":"Tregeagles Poem"},"content":{"rendered":"

.<\/span><\/p>\n

The following poem was written by John Penwarne of Penryn written sometime in the late 18th or early 19th centuries.<\/em>
\nTregeagle<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

In Cornwall\u2019s famed land, by the pool on the moor,
\nTregeagle the wicked did dwell;
\nHe once was a shepherd, contented and poor,
\nBut growing ambitious and wishing for more,
\nSad misfortune the Shepherd befell.<\/p>\n

One night, all alone as he crossed the wild heath,
\nTo drive his flock to the fold,
\nAll nature was still, the winds scarcely breathe
\nO\u2019er the moon silver\u2019d hills and the valleys beneath,
\nAs he cast his eyes over the wold.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh! Why should I live by hard labour,\u201d quoth he,
\n\u201cAnd be held the rich in disdain!
\n\u201cI wish,\u201d quoth Tregeagle, \u201cfor all that I see,
\n\u201cOh then what a happy great man I should be;
\n\u201cWhen lord extensive domain.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now scarce had he utter\u2019d his impious breath,
\nWhen the wolves they howl\u2019d wildly and loud;
\nThe winds sadly sighing swept over the heath,
\nAs nature awoke from the stillness of death;
\nAn the moon hid her head in a cloud.<\/p>\n

When sudden he saw, midst the gloom of the night,
\nA figure gigantic advance;
\nHis hair bristled up as he viewed the fell sprite,
\nWho seemed in form to be armed as a knight,
\nAnd he wielded an ebony lance.<\/p>\n

All black was the gaunt steed on which he did ride,
\nA sable plume shadowed his head:
\nAnd black was his armour, with blood all bedye\u2019d;
\nAnd black was his bugle that hung by his side,
\nWhich no mortal might hear without dread.<\/p>\n

Two dogs fierce and fell, and which never knew fear,
\nDid run his fleet courser before;
\nTheir forms were all hideous, and grisly their hair,
\nAnd through their lank sides their sharp ribs did appear,
\nAnd their mouths were still dripping with gore.<\/p>\n

Then thus spake Tregeagle \u2014 \u201cwho art thou, Sir Knight?
\n\u201cAnd where at this time dost thou wend?
\n\u201cAh, why dost thou wander alone through the night?
\n\u201cAnd why dost thou harrow my soul with affright?
\nOr what does thy coming portend?\u201d<\/p>\n

The Knight nothing spake, but he leap\u2019d with a bound
\nFrom off his high steed (with a frown),
\nAnd as alit on the trembling ground,
\nHis armour clank\u2019d hollow, a terrible sound,
\nAnd at length this he spake to the Clown.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay, what dist thou wish for, thou trembling knave?
\n\u201cBut thy wishes are known unto me;
\n\u201cI give my consent then if thou art my slave:
\n\u201cLong life to enjoy too thy wish, thou shalt have,
\n\u201cAnd a hundred years give I to thee.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll build thee a castle so fair and so fine,
\n\u201cAround it green forests I\u2019ll rear,
\n\u201cAnd vassals and serving men too shall be thine;
\n\u201cAnd thy hall all with gold and with silver shall shine,
\n\u201cAnd with Sir shall be greeted thine ear.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd when thy long term shall be passed away,
\n\u201cAt thy lot wilt thou never repine?
\n\u201cAnd wilt thou be ready thy boon to repay?
\n\u201cSpeak boldly, Tregeagle; pray what dost thou say?
\n\u201cShall thy soul and thy body be mine?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA bargain! A bargain!\u201d Then said he aloud,
\n\u201cAt my lot I will never repine:
\n\u201cI swear to observe it, I swear by rood,
\n\u201cAnd am ready to seal and to sign with my blood;
\n\u201cBoth my soul and my body are thine.\u201d<\/p>\n

The sprite grinned so horrid, and said, \u201cthat will blind
\nBoth thy soul and thy body my right:\u201d
\nThen mounting his courser as fleet as the wind,
\nAnd while his grin hellhounds ran yelping behind,
\nHe was lost in the gloom of the night.<\/p>\n

Oh then his dread bugle he winded so shrill
\nSo as all mortal ears to astound:
\nThe vallies all trembled, and shook was each hill,
\nThe wolves ceased to howl, and with terror lay still,
\nAnd Tregeagle fell flat on the ground.<\/p>\n

There in a deep sleep all entranced he lay,
\nSpell-bound by the art of the Sprite;
\nNor awoke until morn in her mantle of grey
\nWith ruddy hands open\u2019d the portals of day,
\nAnd dispell\u2019d the dark mists of the night.<\/p>\n

Then upsprang Tregeagle, no longer a clown,
\nBut clothed in gorgeous attire;
\nAnd proud waving forests the hills all did crown,
\nWhich erst was a bare, and a barren bleak down,
\nAnd much did Tregeagle admire.<\/p>\n

Where Dozmary Lake its dark waters did roll,
\nA castle now reared its head,
\nWith many a turret so stately and tall;
\nAnd many a warden did walk on its wall,
\nAll splendidly clothed in red.<\/p>\n

And many a vassal did hail him \u2018Sir Knight,\u2019
\nAnd doffing their caps, bowed low;
\nAnd much Sir Tregeagle was pleased with the sight,
\nWhile, inwardly swelling with pride and delight,
\nHe into his castle did go.<\/p>\n

Then proudly advancing, he enter\u2019d the hall,
\nWith gold and with silver bedight;
\nFrom the lofty roof many gay banners did fall,
\nAnd bright suits of armour did hang on each wall;
\nWas ever so gorgeous a sight!<\/p>\n

And there the gay serving men, bowed profound,
\nObsequious did wait his command;
\nAnd many fair damsels did stand him around,
\nWho modestly bent their bright eyes to the ground;
\nAh, who could such beauty with stand?<\/p>\n

The minstrel sweet music drew forth from his lyre,
\nWhich ravished the soul with delight;
\nThe Knight treads on air, and his soul is on fire,
\nAnd much he the skill of the harper admires,
\nFor he sang forth the praise of the Knight.<\/p>\n

And many a stead in his stables were seen,
\nAll fitted for chase or for war;
\nWith many bold huntsmen, all clothed in green,
\nAt their sides hung their bugles of silver so sheen,
\nWhich rang through the forests afar.<\/p>\n

Now oft would the knight, on his courser so fair,
\nFollow swift the fleet hounds and the horn;
\nTo rouse the grim wolf from his secret lair,
\nOr parsue the light bound of the trembling deer,
\nAs he brush\u2019d the bright dews of the morn.<\/p>\n

But time flew away with the wind\u2019s winged speed,
\nTregeagle ne\u2019er noticed its flight;
\nBut he marked each day with some horrible deed,
\nSome mansion must burn, or some traveller bleed,
\nOr hateful that day to his sight.<\/p>\n

It chanced one evening, as homeward he wends,
\nDeep mutter\u2019d the hag of the storms;
\nEarth trembles, as bouncing the skies she ascends,
\nThe welkin across her black wings she extends,
\nAnd nature with darkness deforms.<\/p>\n

And now the bold hunters they stood all aghast,
\nTheir stout hearts with fear overaw\u2019d;
\nThe red lightnings glanced, the rain poured fast,
\nAnd loud howled the demons that rode the blast,
\nAnd terror the tempest bestrode.<\/p>\n

\u201cO save me. O save me, Sir Knight,\u201d then she said,
\n\u201cO let me thy succour obtain!
\n\u201cAh! Where from the storm shall I shelter my head?
\n\u201cMy spirits are sinking with horror and dread,
\n\u201cAnd my garments are drenched with rain.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy poor little page, too, with terror doth quake,
\n\u201cThough ne\u2019er little page was so bold:\u2014
\n\u201cAh, mistress dear. I would die for your sake!
\n\u201cIt is not with fear that I shiver and shake,
\n\u201cBut I shake with the wet and the cold.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSee you, said the Knight, \u201cwhere my Castle doth rear;
\n\u201cThither hasten, fair lady, with me;
\n\u201cAnd there we all soon will thy little page cheer;
\n\u201cBright damsels I\u2019ve many, all modest and fair,
\n\u201cSweet lady, to wait upon thee.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now quickly they rode, and the drawbridge let down,
\nThey into the Castle repair;
\nAnd cheerful the fires now blazed in the hall,
\nTregeagle aloud for his damsels did call,
\nHis damsels so lovely and fair.<\/p>\n

Some wait on the lady, some kindly are led
\nTo make the young urchin their care,
\nWhere lovely he sat with his cheeks rosy red,
\nAnd like a wet rosebud he hung down his head,
\nWhile they wrung forth the rain from his hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow say, little page,\u201d said a Damsel so mild,
\n\u201cAnd quickly unto us declare
\n\u201cWhy through the dark forest, so savage and wild,
\n\u201cThou rangest at night, who art yet but a child,
\n\u201cAnd who is thy Lady so fair?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe father\u2019s Earl Cornwall \u2014 I ween that his name
\n\u201cCan never sound strange to your ear:
\n\u201cFor large his possessions, and wide his fame,
\n\u201cAnd I am her page, and Roberto\u2019s my name,
\n\u201cAnd they call her Goonhylda the fair.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis morning from Dunevyd Castle so strong,
\n\u201cWe came forth ere the sun shew\u2019d his face,
\n\u201cFor she loves, with her train, the green forests among
\n\u201cTo rouse the fleet deer, and the vallies along
\n\u201cTo pursue the keen joys of the chace.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo-day we left all our companions behind;
\n\u201cAnd, involved in the mists of the hill,
\n\u201cTo trace back our steps we in vain were inclined,
\n\u201cWhen the shouts of the hunters we heard in the wind,
\n\u201cAnd the bugle blew cheerly and shrill.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen we hitherward sped, all deceived by the sound,
\n\u201cIn hopes our companions to find,
\n\u201cWhen the howling storm shook the vast forest around,
\n\u201cFrom the rain we sought shelter, but none could be found,
\n\u201cTill we met with your master so kind.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then Goonhylda came forth, like a beautiful flower,
\nAnd all in fresh garments arrayed;
\nShe seem\u2019d a tall lily refresh\u2019d by a shower;
\nTregeagle he glazed, for ne\u2019er till that hour
\nHad he seen such a beautiful maid.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks, gentle Sir Knight,\u201d said Goonhylda the fair,
\nWhile modesty mantled her cheek,
\n\u201cYour guests for the night we must be Sir, I fear,
\n\u201cWhile my father, a prey to sad grief and despair,
\n\u201cIn vain his Goonhylda will seek.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am proud of my guest,\u201d Sir Tregeagle replied,
\n\u201cAnd pray fairest Lady, so don\u2019t grieve;
\n\u201cA messenger quick to your farther shall ride,
\n\u201cTo tell him \u00a0no ill does his daughter betide,
\n\u201cAnd his breast from its terror relieve.\u201d<\/p>\n

While thus with fair speeches so couteous and kind,
\nHimself to the Maid he address\u2019d,
\nTo gloom and to thoughtfulness seem\u2019s much inclined,
\nAnd, if that the countenance speaketh the mind,
\nDark deeds he resolv\u2019d in his breast.<\/p>\n

While sweet slept Goonhylda, of beauty the pride,
\nThe Earl was absorbed in grief;
\nFor no messenger fleet to his castle did ride,
\nTo say that no ill did his darling betide,
\nAnd to give his fond bosom relief.<\/p>\n

All night his lone chamber he pac\u2019d to and fro;
\nAs he listen\u2019d, no sound could he hear
\nBut the last which against his dark windows did blow;
\nHis aged breast heaved with sorrow and woe,
\nTill he saw the grey morning appear.<\/p>\n

With his knights and esquires, and serving men all,
\nThen forth from his castle did ride;
\nMidst the foremost so wild, on Goonhylda did call,
\nBut dire forebodings his heart did appal,
\nWhen nought but the echoes replied.<\/p>\n

At length to the plain he emerg\u2019d from the wood;
\nFor a father, alas what a sight!
\nThere lay her fair garments all drenched in blood,
\nHer palfrey all torn in the dark crimson flood,
\nBy the ravenous beasts of the night.<\/p>\n

Soft-eyed Pity descend on the heart-rending sight;
\nBe widely-extended thy veil:
\nFor I wren it is past learned clerk to indite,
\nOr the pen or the pencil to paint or to write,
\nWhat a fond, tender father must feel.<\/p>\n

And now let\u2019s return to that traitor so vile;
\nDark projects revolv\u2019s in his breats,
\nWhilst his heart was envelop\u2019d in fraund and in guile,
\nHe borrowed kind Hospitality\u2019s smile,
\nAnd thus be Goonhylda address\u2019d :\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cFair Maiden, than flowers the fairest more fair,
\n\u201cOf demeanour so modest and sweet;
\n\u201cO, say! May a Knight of possessions so rare,
\n\u201cPresume that both them and himself to declare,
\n\u201cDear Lady, are cast at your feet?
\nWith a blush on her cheek, then Goonhylda replied,
\n\u201cI ill should your kindness requite,
\n\u201cShould I treat you, Sir Knight, or with scorn, or with pride,
\n\u201cOr the state of my heart should I strive, Sir, to hide;
\nI\u2019m already betroth\u2019d to a Knight.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow fair is the day, and refalgent the morn,
\n\u201cAnd fain would I haste to depart;
\n\u201cThat no longer in vain wait Goonhylda\u2019s return,
\n\u201cWhose absence must wring his kind heart.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Knight smil\u2019d insidious, and bent his dark brow:
\n\u201cFair Lady, you cannot go hence;
\n\u201cThere are robber abroad in the forest, I trow;
\n\u201cBesides, my sweet damsel, I boldly avow,
\n\u201cWith your presence I cannot dispense.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen am I a prisoner?\u201d Goonhylda replied,
\n(Indignant beholding the Knight)
\n\u201cBut soon shall the strength of thy castle be tried;
\n\u201cAnd thinkest thou long from Earl Cornwall to hide
\n\u201cA daughter, his pride and delight?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, vain expectation, fair Lady,\u201d he said,
\n\u201cThy father hopes not thy return;
\n\u201cAlready he thinks that thy blood has been shed
\n\u201cBy the beasts of the forest; and thinking thee dead,
\n\u201cHe is gone to his castle to mourn.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now little Roberto, tho\u2019 few were his years,
\nYet cunning and shrewd was the boy,
\nWhere he sat in a corner, this speech overhears,
\nAnd faithful as swift to the stable repairs,
\nAnd seizes his courser with joy.<\/p>\n

From the castle he steals, and the forest he gains,
\nResolv\u2019d to avert her sad fate:
\nNow spurring, and giving his fleet horse the reins,
\nEre the soft tears of evening had spangled the plains,
\nBlew his horn at Dunevyd\u2019s high gate.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, hasten, Earl Cornwall! Oh, hasten!\u201d He cried,
\n\u201cThy peerless Goonhylda\u2019s in thrall;
\n\u201cBy a recreant Knight is thy power defied!
\n\u201cBy force Sir Tregeagle would make her his bride!
\n\u201cAnd he keeps her within his strong wall!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor thy news, little Robert, oh, fair thee befall,
\nTho\u2019 bitter and sweet, little page;
\n\u201cMy Goonhylda then lives! Though a traitor enthralls,
\n\u201cBut soon will I thunder around his strong walls,
\n\u201cThe caitiff I burn to engage!\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he drew forth his horsemen so valiant and bold,
\n\u201cAnd give me my armour,\u201d he said;
\n\u201cMy frame can sustain it, tho\u2019 wither\u2019d and old,
\n\u201cAnd my hand in its grasp still the falchion can hold,
\n\u201cWhen a daughter\u2019s cause calls for its aid.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo horse, little Robert! To horse again fly!
\n\u201cTho\u2019 tired thou surely must be;
\n\u201cBut I know for thy mistress thous \u2018dst readily die,
\n\u201cAnd for thy reward I\u2019ll make thee, bye and bye,
\n\u201cA Squire of highest degree.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now thro\u2019 the dark night, over forest and moor,
\nThey by their fleet coursers are bourne;
\nWhile little Roberto rode blithesome before,
\nAnd on the gray morn peep\u2019d the eastern hills o\u2019er,
\nAt Tregeagle\u2019s gate sounded his horn.<\/p>\n

All is silesnt within, and the stillness of death
\nThe dark frowning towers surrounds;
\nWhen they heard, & each listening suspended his breath
\nThey heard the shrill blast from the far distant heath!
\nWhich the ears of all mortals confounds.<\/p>\n

They heard the Black Hunter! & Dread shook each mind;
\nHearts sank that had never known fear:
\nThey heard the Black Hunters dread voice in the wind!
\nThey heard his curst hell-hounds run yelping behind,
\nAnd his steed thundered loud on the ear!<\/p>\n

And now he appear\u2019d thro\u2019 the gloom of the night;
\nHi plume seem\u2019d a cloud in the skies;
\nHis form the dark mists of the hills to the sight,
\nAnd as from a furnace shoots forth the red light,
\nSo glared the fierce beams of his eyes!<\/p>\n

He blew from his bugle so dreadful a blast,
\nHis dogs howling hideous the while,
\nThat all Nature trembled, and shook as aghast!
\nAnd from the high walls the huge battlements brast,
\nFell down from the tottering pile.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome forth, Sir Tregeagle!\u201d \u2014 in thunder, he cried,
\n\u201cCome forth, and submit to thy fate!
\n\u201cThy time is expired! To me thou art tied:
\n\u201cWithin thy dark castle in vain thou wouldst hide:
\n\u201cCome forth! For here endeth thy date!\u201d<\/p>\n

Then forth came Tregeagle, all palsied with fear,
\nAnd fain would more favour have found;
\nBut loud \u00a0roar\u2019d the thunder, and swift through the air
\nThe red bolt of vengeance shot forth with a glare,
\nAnd struck him a corpse to the ground!<\/p>\n

Then from the black corpse a pale spectre appear\u2019d,
\nAnd hied him away through the night;
\nWhen quickly the yelps of the hell-hounds are heard,
\nAnd to the pursuit by the bugle are cheer\u2019d,
\nWhile behind thunders after the Sprite.<\/p>\n

And now ruddy morning again gilds the skies,
\nThe hellish enchantment is o\u2019er:
\nThe forest and castle no more meet their eyes;
\nBut where from green woods its bright turrets did rise,
\nNow spreads the dark pool on the moor.<\/p>\n

And near its drear margin a maiden was seen,
\nUnhurted! Goonhylda the fair;
\nFor still guardian angels did keep keep her, I ween,
\nAnd near her gay palfry, in trappings so sheen,
\nWhich late torn by wolves did appear.<\/p>\n

Earl Cornwall rejoicing, now thanked that power
\nThat did his Goonhylda restore;
\nAnd oft his old Minstrel, at eve\u2019s sober hour,
\nBeneath the dark walls of Dunevyd\u2019s grey tower,
\nSung the tale of the pool on the moor.<\/p>\n

And still, as the traveller pursues his lone way,
\nIn horror, at night, o\u2019er the waste,
\nHe hears Sir Tregeagle with shrieks rush away,
\nHe hears the Black Hunter pursuing his prey,
\nAnd shrinks at his bugle\u2019s dread blast.
\n________________________________________________________<\/p>\n

Visits: 151<\/p>\n

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. The following poem was written by John Penwarne of Penryn written sometime in the late 18th or early 19th centuries. Tregeagle In Cornwall\u2019s famed land, by the pool on the moor, Tregeagle the wicked did dwell; He once was a shepherd, contented and poor, But growing ambitious and wishing for more, Sad misfortune the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":2484,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2500","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2500","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2500"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2500\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16821,"href":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2500\/revisions\/16821"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2484"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/launcestonthen.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2500"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}