THE BREEZE ON BEACHY HEAD. 239 



is an immense cauldron, the ocean fills it, and we ar^ 

 merely on the rim this narrow land is but a ribbon 

 to the limitlessness yonder. The wind rushes out 

 upon it with wild joy ; springing from the edge of the 

 earth, it leaps out over the ocean. Let us go back 

 a few steps and recline on the warm, dry turf. 



It is pleasant to look back upon the green slope 

 and the hollows and narrow ridges, with sheep and 

 stubble and some low hedges, and oxen, and that old, 

 old sloth ^the plough creeping in his path. The 

 sun is bright on the stubble and the corners of furze ; 

 there are bees humming yonder, no doubt, and flowers, 

 and hares crouching the dew dried from around them 

 long since, and waiting for it to fall again ; partridges, 

 too, corn-ricks, and the roof of a farmhouse by them. 

 Lit with sunlight are the fields, warm autumn garner- 

 ing all that is dear to the heart of man, blue heaven 

 above how sweet the wind comes from these ! the 

 sweeter for the knowledge of the profound abyss 

 behind. 



Here, reclining on the grass the verge of the cliff 

 rising a little, shuts out the actual sea the glance 

 goes forth into the hollow unsupported. It is sweeter 

 towards the corn-ricks, and yet the mind will not be 

 satisfied, but ever turns to the unknown. The edge 

 and the abyss recall us; the boundless plain, for it 

 appears solid as the waves are levelled by distance, 

 demands the gaze. But with use it becomes easier, 

 and the eye labours less. There is a promontory 

 standing out from the main wall, whence you can see 

 the side of the cliff, getting a flank view* as from a 

 tower. 



