The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 20, No. 574, November 3, 1832 Title

They have a castle on a hill;
I took it for an old windmill,
The vane's blown off by weather;
To lie therein one night, its guest,
'Twere better to be ston'd and prest,
Or hang'd—now choose you whether.

Scenes of this description frequently give rise to marvellous stories; and Lydford Bridge has furnished many themes for the gossip's tongue. It is related, that a London rider was benighted on this road, in a heavy storm, and, wishing to get to some place of shelter, spurred his horse forward with more than common speed. The tempest had been tremendous during the night; and in the morning the rider was informed that Lydford Bridge had been swept away with the current. He shuddered to reflect on his narrow escape; his horse having cleared the chasm by a great sudden leap in the middle of his course, though the occasion of his making it at the time was unknown.
Two or three persons have chosen this spot for self-destruction; and in a moment of desperation, have dashed themselves from the bridge into the murky chasm.
Libels on Poets. —Cicero tells us, Democritus and Plato said that there could be no good poet without a tincture of madness; and Aristotle calls poets madmen.—P.T.W.
Thou wert the rainbow of my dreams,