Below the milky steep Some ship of battle slowly creep, And on through zones of light and shadow Glimmer away to the lonely deep.
The voice of the long sea-wave as it swelled, Now and then in the dim-gray dawn.
And often his steps were turned to that finest scene within an hour’s stroll--
The broad white brow of the Isle--that bay with the coloured sand--Rich was the rose of sunset there, as we drew to the land.
On such points of vantage, he was inspired with loyalty and patriotism very different from the feelings of his predecessor in the laureateship, who “uttered nothing base,” but who was certainly disposed to frown, when, from the Island cliffs, he saw a British fleet sailing forth against the soon clouded dawn of liberty in France.
Tennyson naturally had a dread of new building about Freshwater; and some other landowners here seem to share the same exclusive spirit, which may account for the neighbourhood not being more “developed” as a resort, while its warmest admirers lament how much it has grown since the Laureate settled here. It has no want of attractions, not always accessible on the steep face of chalk, scarred and pitted by works of time like Freshwater Arch and Freshwater Cave near the little bay, beyond which come honeycombings known by such names as “Neptune’s Caves” and “Bar Cave”--“Frenchman’s Hole,” from an escaped prisoner said to have starved here--Lord Holmes’ “Parlour,” “Kitchen,” and “Cellar,” where that governor was in the way
of entertaining his friends--“Roe’s Hall”--“Preston’s Bower”--the “Wedge Rock,” a triangular mass wedged in between the cliff and an isolated pyramid some 50 feet high--the “Arched Cavern” in Scratchell’s Bay, and the “Needles Cave,” into which small boats can peep before rounding the jagged corner. It is said that Professor Tyndall used to keep himself in climbing practice by scrambling on these treacherous rocks; and if this be true, I so far question the wisdom of that pundit. The harrying of airy nests makes a better excuse for such riskful gymnastics. The fissured cliff line is tenanted by sea-fowl, which the report of a gun brings out in screaming and hovering crowds, conspicuous among them the black and white cormorants nicknamed “Isle of Wight parsons.”