[Illustration:  DRAKE’S STATUE, TAVISTOCK.]

Drake was idolised in Plymouth and the surrounding country, where his name was held in everlasting remembrance, and his warlike spirit pervaded the British navy.  At a much later period than that of our visit even his drum was not forgotten.  Whether it was one of those that were preserved in the old abbey or not we did not know, but it is the subject of a stirring poem by Sir Henry Newbolt.

DRAKE’S DRUM

  Drake he’s in his hammock, an’ a thousand mile away,
    (Capten, art tha’ sleepin’ there below?),
  Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
    An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe. 
  Yarnder lumes the island, yarnder lie the ships,
    Wi’ sailor lads a-dancin’ heel-an’-toe,
  An’ the shore-lights flashin’, an’ the night-tide dashin’,
    He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.

  Drake he was a Devon man, an’ ruled the Devon seas,
    (Capten, art tha’ sleepin’ there below?),
  Rovin’ tho’ his death fell, he went wi’ heart at ease,
    An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe. 
  Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore,
    Strike et when your powder’s runnin’ low;
  If the Dons sight Devon, I’ll quit the port o’ Heaven,
    An’ drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago.

  Drake he’s in his hammock till the great Armadas come,
    (Capten, art tha’ sleepin’ there below?),
  Slung atween the round shot, listenin’ for the Drum,
    An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe. 
  Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,
    Call him when ye sail to meet the foe;
  Where the old trade’s plyin’ an’ the old flag flyin’
    They shall find him ware an’ wakin’, as they found him long ago!

In olden times there existed a much older abbey than Buckland, named Buckfast Abbey, but it was right on the other side of Dartmoor, and the abbots and monks formerly crossed from one to the other.  In those remote times there were no proper roads, and the tracks between the two places were mainly made by the feet of the monks, with crosses placed at intervals to prevent their losing the way, especially when the hills were covered with snow.  The track still existed, being known as the “Abbots’ Way.”  The distance between the two abbeys was about sixteen miles as the crow flies, but as the track had to go partially round some of the tors, which there rose to an elevation of about 1,500 feet above sea-level, and were directly in the way, it must have involved a walk of quite twenty miles from one abbey to the other.  Buckfast Abbey is one of the oldest in Britain, and ultimately became the richest Cistercian house in the West of England.  The last abbot was Gabriel Donne, who received his appointment for having in 1536 captured Tyndale the Reformer, who was in the same year put to death by strangling and burning.