102 WESTLAND MAY 



spangle the turf. On lower banks, near the stream, 

 the clusters grow thicker, till, in yielding place to the 

 golden marsh marigolds, they strike the harmony of 

 sulphur and orange, so dear to the dead Albert Moore, 

 There is another and purer yellow on the heights, 

 a middle hue between primrose and marigold, the 

 pretty rock-rose (Helianthemum), wreathed among 

 masses of the snowy bladder campion, and, thinly 

 scattered over all, there stand little pillars of brilliant 

 purplish crimson the early orchis. Just where the 

 green turf carpet ends on the beach, between it and the 

 broad expanse of cold shingle, all these hues meet and 

 mingle, and there is added a wide selvage of a colour 

 gayer than all the rest, the dainty rose-pink of the 

 sea-thrift. To sit on the thyme-scented cliff before the 

 quiet sea, to bask in the afternoon rays and drink in 

 this oratorio of colour, is a joy to be had in everlasting 

 remembrance. 



And when that is done, there be other things to note 

 in this quiet bay. It is just such a beach as this that 

 the Vikings loved to draw their long black kyuls upon. 

 The very name of the place Physgil is our tortured 

 writing of the Norse fisk-gil, fish stream ; and on an 

 eminence commanding the landing-place moulder the 

 ruins of Port Castle, one of the innumerable strongholds 

 with which these cruel scourges of the ninth and tenth 

 centuries studded our shores, for the better subduing 

 of the native Picts. 



But memories of a still earlier age hang round this 

 spot. On either hand the bay is closed in by lofty 



