The May Day Revels of Cornwall

From a Sonnet (to an absent love).Tony Sewell.

May is a joyous time to travel England. Particularly so the West Country. In the Far West, ancient Cornish woodlands are carpeted in bluebells, massed rhododendrons show their vivid exotic blooms, primroses smile along every hedgerow and the lark sings high overhead in every meadow. Such delicate and fragrant beauty of a Cornish Spring and early Summer provides the floral garlands that will crown the head of many a young maiden who is to be the village May Queen this year.

Right now however Cornwall plays host to a May Queen of greater dignity. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II is visiting this ancient land on May Day at the start of her month long Golden Jubilee tour of Britain. As I write this, her Royal Train gathers mystery as it speeds through the silent night towards Falmouth, Cornwall's historic port. It is taking the Great Western rail route to Cornwall laid down by Isambard Kingdon Brunel in the reign of Queen Victoria.

Ancient medieval pastoral customs welcoming the smiling return of Summer in rural are still alive and well in Cornwall. At Helston on 8th May each year they dance the Floral Dance through the streets in a series of processions lasting from daybreak to nightfall; an ancient custom, they say, to celebrate the coming of Spring and banishment of Winter. The old coinage town is decorated with the greenery and bluebells of Spring for the dancers. Their traditional route will lead them through the narrow streets, through people's gardens and even their houses, the Mayor and his Men of Helston dressed in top hat and tails, the Mayoress and Ladies in their finest long dresses and the children of Helston in white.

Elsewhere in the shires of England beribboned troupes of Morris Dancers will be seen this month in market towns and on village greens dancing to the sound of bell, pipe and drum. They have celebrated thus for centuries.

Padstow is normally a quiet and law-abiding picturesque old fishing village at the mouth of the river Camel where it flows into the Atlantic. Here on May Day, half forgotten memories of ancient celtic festivals of the rural cycle of the year stir and heat the blood. The whitewashed granite built cottages that tumble down to the tiny fishing harbor on this ruggedly beautiful coast of North Cornwall will witness mayhem on this one day in the year.

Go To Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6