The bleak and unclothed landscape, from which the mist was slowly
rolling; the few giant trees, that dwelling by the sea-side, and grown
wise by experience, ventured not to put forth their leaves till the sun
had chased the north wind to his caves; but, above all, the booming of
the untranquillised ocean, might have chilled a heart within the warmest
bosom; "Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood,
With dauntless words and high," and looked as if he deemed the rolling clouds his listeners. It was by
no means unusual for the preachers in those days to exercise their
voices over the hills and heaths of their native land: valuing, as they
did, power and strength far more than melody and grace, they endeavoured
to acquire them by every possible means--nor were they without hope
that, (to use their own language,) "the Almighty might bless the seed
thus sown, seeing that it was hard to know who might not be within
hearing of the precious word."
Burrell soon gained the sea-shore, though he was still a considerable
distance from Gull's Nest Crag. On arriving at a point that commanded an
unbroken prospect of the far-spread sea, he shaded his eyes with his
hand, and looked long and earnestly along the waste of waters.
Apparently the scrutiny was unsuccessful, for he drew a telescope from
beneath his cloak and gazed through it for some minutes, directing it
towards several points. At length, with an impatience of manner in
which, when with his inferiors or alone, he frequently indulged, he
descended the cliff and pursued his way along the beach. As he drew near
the little public-house, his ears were greeted by the sound of one of
Waller's most popular songs, warbled in a voice so sweet, so pipe-like,
that he paused, and looked round to ascertain from whence it proceeded.
It ceased. Not even his keen eye could rest on aught resembling human
form. He hallooed, but received no answer: yet had he not continued
three steps on his way when the song was renewed, as he thought,
directly over his head; notwithstanding the roaring of the waves, he
even heard the words distinctly-"Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired."
Again he shouted, and a loud and elfin laugh, that danced with the
echoes from crag to crag and billow to billow, was sent forth in reply.
"Mermaid--Merman--or Demon! where be ye!" cried Burrell, loudly.
"Even here, master mine," answered Robin Hays, shaking his large head,
over a midway and partly detached portion of the cliff.