Gilbert, the antiquary and historian. It appeared
in the Gentleman's Magazine of November, 1827.
Sir Walter Scott, and later. Lord Macaulay, quite
thought it was a genuine ancient ballad.
That it is not an antique is almost certain, as it [has no local and original air to which it is set ; it is sung to "Le Petit Tambour," and no old miners or labourers know it.
There is a novel by Mrs. Bray, Trelawny of Trelawne, written in 1834, that relates to this house, and by no means deserves to be forgotten. Mrs. Bray's novels, though old-fashioned, are guides to the neighbourhood of Tavistock, and that just mentioned interests the reader in the district about Trelawne.[1]
"Looe," says she, "beautiful as it is, is not to be compared to Polperro, two miles distant from Trelawne. The descent to it is so steep, that I, who was not accustomed to the path, could only get down by clinging to Mr. Bray's arm for support; it was slippery, and so rocky that in some places there were steps cut in the road for the convenience of the passenger. The view of the little port, the old town in the bottom (if town it can be called), the cliffs, and the spiked rocks, that start up in the wildest and most abrupt manner, breaking the direct sweep of the waves towards the harbour, altogether produced such a combination of magnificent coast scenery as may truly be called sublime."
Access to Polperro is very much easier than it was in 1833, when visited by Mrs. Bray. A good many of the quaint old houses have been pulled
- ↑ A new edition was published by Longmans in 1845.
