A Robber Stronghold. 113 



hides the low mounds of old dwellings, the heath is 

 high round ruined towers, from which, perhaps, the 

 pirates of old days watched the slow sailing of deep- 

 laden argosies. Over the granite dykes of ponds long 

 choked with moss and reeds grow cotton-grass and 

 asphodel ; and among the fern and ling that hide the 

 ruins of 'The Widow's Tenement,' still her roses bloom. 



The steep brow over the landing-place is crowned 

 by the old Marisco fortress, whose lords were long the 

 terror of the sea. Still stands the low square keep of 

 the pirate hold, but in the chinks of its rude masonry 

 the samphire grows. No sentry from its walls looks 

 seaward for the gleam of hostile sails. No warning 

 signal from the turret summons the islanders to arms. 



But from the white staff that rises in the court there 

 flutters week by week — brooding like the dove of 

 peace over the robber stronghold — the call to prayer 

 in the tiny church beneath the hill. 



Over ruined tower and rampart the sweet lotos 

 blooms; bright blue scabious nestles in the rifted 

 stones. 



Far down below lie the pale green waves, fringing 

 dark reefs with hungry foam. 



In the hands of resolute defenders this fortress, 

 guarded by steep cliff and stormy sea, must in old 

 days have been all but impregnable. 



But force or fraud have found ere now a way up 

 that steep path from the beach. These flowery slopes 

 that stretch away from the outworks of the castle, 



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