UC-NRLF lt.5 72M t)UR OF THE DOVE A VISIT TO DOVEbALJE, EDWARDS." Second Jditto) I" - i.' ' . : ' " i i r iSold by a!! lUc . Booksellers in Der, ^ W. Hoon ai (I W. WheatLey, Ashboiirn j "m, Moore, Buxton; and at the Museum, Matlock Bath, BERKELEY UNIVERSrTY OF CALIFGRNIA THE TOUR OF THE DOVE, OR A VISIT TO DOVEDALE, &c. A POEM. Wilkius and Son, Printers, Queen Street, Derby. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE; OR A VISIT TO DOVEDALE, &c. A POEM, BY JOHN EDWARDS. Second Edition. " Who conies not hither, ne'er shall know How beautiful the world below; Nor can he guess how lightly leaps The brook adown the rocky steeps." WORDSWORTH. PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, BROWN & GREEN, Paternoster Row, LONDON. JESSE WATTS RUSSELL, ESQ. M. P. THE FOLLOWING POEM, WHICH, IN TRACING THE BANKS OF THE RIVER DOVE, INCLUDES THE BEAUTIFUL AND ROMANTIC SCENERY, IN THE VICINITY AND GARDENS OF ILAM HALL, is, WITH PERMISSION, MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY HIS OBEDIENT SERVANT, THE AUTHOR. 444 PREFACE. ON presenting this volume to the public, it is due to the encouragement which the author has received, that he should offer a few re- marks, explanatory of the inducements which led him to the composition of the Tour of the Dove. Having had various opportunities of visiting most of the places in the Peak of Derbyshire, celebrated for their beautiful or romantic sce- nery, it has seemed to him a matter of regret, that there should exist no good local poetry, claiming for its birth-place some of these iii PREFACE. highly interesting valleys. If the author may be permitted to take his individual experience as a standard by which to estimate the feel- ings of other tourists, an impulse of pleasura- ble sensations is excited by the extraordinary exhibitions of material nature, that calls for a correspondent exertion of the loftier facul- ties of mind. When contemplating the sub- lime or the beautiful in the scenery around us, we feel ourselves translated from the world of common life ; the elysium in which we are then placed, becomes to us an imagi- native region, the peculiar province of poetry j and the soul yearns for some breathings of "immortal verse/' that she can identify with the objects before her. That this desideratum is supplied by the present work, it were too much to presume ; but the favourable reception of the author's PREFACE. i former poem, on All Saints' Church, Derby, has encouraged him to venture on the subject, hoping at least, to draw the attention of other more highly gifted minds to pursue it effect- ually. The lakes and mountains of the north have already been consecrated by some of the choicest strains of the muse, and surely the rivers of the Peak cannot prove an ungrateful theme. It was originally intended, that, under the title of the Peak Rivers, the poem should embrace the whole of the romantic scenery of .that district ; tracing the Dove upwards, to its source, then descending with the Wye till it enters the Derwent, and after taking a retrospect of that river, proceeding with it to its junction with the Trent. This design, it was soon found r would lead to a wider field of objects than could be prudently admitted PREFACE. in a poem, the attractions of which must rest chiefly upon description ; and it has therefore been limited to its present extent. The original plan, of tracing the Dove upwards, is preserved ; as the interest is thus better supported than it could be by following the contrary and apparently more natural direction. With respect to the second edition of this Tour now published, the author can with truth affirm, that he has used his best endea- vours to improve the work. The verse has undergone .a careful revision, its arrangement has been newly modified, fresh imagery has been introduced, and it is hoped that a purer diction imbued with more of the poetic spirit will be perceived. To complete the improve- ments, the Notes have been considerably en- larged, both for the sake of illustration, and PREFACE. 3 with the design of rendering them serviceable to the future tourist. In this department, besides the product of his own observation and research, the author has availed himself of several other sources of intelligence, parti- cularly of Mr. Rhodes's " Peak Scenery ", a most interesting volume; it having been his aim, to collect in one focus the information which will give the clearest and most com- prehensive view of his subject THE TOUR OF THE DOVE, A POEM. SPRING UP, O WELL; SING YE UNTO IT. Numbers xxi. 17. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. CANTO I. 1 HOU eldest of the elements that sprang From underneath the Spirit's brooding wings, When chaos heard that Voice whose fiat rang, Commanding' life and being to all things, Hail, WATER! beautiful thy gushing springs, Thy lakes and rivers ; shrined in clouds or dew ; In ice or snow ; or where the rainbow flings Its radiant arch ; in every form and hue, Thou, glorious Element, art ever fair and new \ THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. II. Ever fresh springing in the wells and fountains, The virgin waters rise and overflow ; The cloud-nursed torrents hasting down the mountains, Pursue in devious brooks their course below ; Onward the broad bright river glides, although A steadfast object, from the hills descried; And mighty ocean, heaving to and fro, Rocked by the undulations of the tide, Is with perpetual renovation purified. III. Charmed by the music of the rolling deep, The Muse, that pours her own sweet song to heaven, Might lingering stay beside the rocky steep Till the day fled and came the star of even : But she a boon has to her votary given ; With him to view the Dovedale of the Peak ; And trace its River, in meanders driven Through the deep-channelled hills its way to seek ; To treadthe glens & caves, and climb the moun tains bleak. THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. O IV. JLo, now she beckons from the battlement Of yonder pile, high-named of Waterloo ; She saw the nuptials of the Dove and Trent, But long before that mushroom fabric grew : Each came with pomp of flowing retinue ; Each, slow to meet, came on with winding wii)g; And this the language of their interview " Comest thou alone, proud Dove, or dost thou bring Some tributary river from another spring?" V. " Imperious Trent! thy better mood disowns, (Replied the fairer stream,) this greeting harsh : But know that I am sprung from mountain thrones, Beyond far Longnor's hills of pine and larch ; Dovedale's rock-spires, and caves, and rock-built arch, Ashbourn's blue smoke, Uttoxeter's bright gleam, And Burton's joyous bells announce my march. These honours were sufficient dower, I deem, Came I alone but wilder waters swell my stream. B2 6 fllE TOUR OF THE DOVE. VI. Two rivers weary of the sun, that sheds No beauty on their banks with shale embrowned, Have dared to plunge and leave their stony beds Empty, with naked track to wander round The dreary moors. What ear can reach the sound, From ledge to ledge as the bold torrents leap Through echoing caverns locked in gloom profound ! Hamps roars to Manifold, deep answers deep, As with converging tides the darkling rivers sweep. VII. I know thy meadows, Trent, are rich and green ; Thy swelling slopes are gay with lawn and wood ; But couldst thou visit Ham's sylvan scene, Where grotto, cliff, and groves of various bud, O'erhang each rising river's fountain flood, As cool and crystal-clear it springs to air, And deeply drinks the light as 'twere life-blood ; It well might shew that some enchantment rare Had scoQped that mountain nook, & poured those rivers fair. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. / VIII. With them, by Alton Abbey's castle-den, The Churnet hither trails her willow locks : 'Twould seem those iron times had reached this glen When giants played at hewing mountain blocks, So bold and strange the profile of the rocks Whose huge fantastic figures frown above. But I refrain for Trent no longer mocks With cold repulse, but courts with ardent love The bright espousals of his own sweet murmuring Dove !" IX. Roll on, bright Pair, in galaxy of light, Through the green meadows toward your ocean-home ; My fancy kindles at the flashing sight Of your soft-moving waters, as they come, Reflecting in their depths the clouded dome Of that blue heaven to which they seem allied : And oh, ye rivers ! from what sacred womb Of clouds or mountains sprang your fountain tide, That flows with music light and beauty vivified? THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. X. Wast thou, fair Dove, a stream when Paradise With rivers watered its delightful flowers ; Before the Peak beheld you summits rise, And Dovedale's portal arch high-roofed with towers ? Or when the drowning Deluge poured its shower* Wast thou produced ? Or later dates thy birth Engendered where the caverned Geyser lowers ; And flung in steam condensed through fissures forth, The child of fire, upsent to warm and water earth ? XI. Dark as the galleries of that aisle sublime In Thor's huge Fane, which yet doth open stand ; Gone without record is the olden time When first thy robe of beauty decked the land ; Thy robe embroidered rich by Nature's hand, With pictured rocks that o'er the margin lean, With trailing shrubs, and trees whose boughs expand Their varied foliage, light and sombre green, Arching with graceful curves the wave that flows between. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XII. O river of the mountain and the mead ! Whose path has deepened like that fountain-train Where stepped the angel with his measuring reed ;* With joy I meet thee on this open plain : Thou bearest onward to the distant main, In whose vast home of waters ends thy course ; My path pursues thy channel in its wane, Where flows the current with decreasing force ; Till passing many a vale I reach its trickling source, XIII. Not thy famed wealth, that tempts the fisherman, With line and rod and wallet fitted out, To seek thy banks, has me allured ; I can With higher motive trace thy varied route. If chance I see the crimson-spotted trout On light fin darting up the lucid stream, It ministers to thoughts not undevout ; And better its shy beauties grace my theme, Than gold or silver fish that love the tropic beam. * See Ezckicl, chapter 47. 10 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XIV. The pride of Burton, that stupendous bridge Whose crowded arches span the floods of Trent, I pass not now ; but toward the northern ridge Of Needwood with the Dove my steps are bent : I tread the classic ground where Mundy spent His youthful hours ; when emulous he strove With Darwin and the Gisbornes, each intent To sing the charms of nature, as they rove On Weaver hills, or woodland watered by the Dove. XV. Here noble Vernon oft led forth his hounds, A pack that never shamed their good descent : His sire had trained them on these forest grounds - y And braving oft the wintry element, Beyond the precincts of the chase he went As once to Shirley Park, what time he vied, With hounds on cry, and horn deep-winded, bent Foremost of all the gallant train to ride, Vet curbing gracefully his fiery courser's pride. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 11 XVI. The hills rebounded as the hunters past; Echoed the champaign, every bank and bush Remurmuring back the music and the blast, And shouts of horse- and-foot-men, as they rush Through Dove, whose stream recoils with troubled gush. Morn had dispelled the fogs, when from his cell Reynard was roused; and ere they seized his brush, (That trophy of the chase,) the evening bell Of distant Ashbourn sounded into Wooton Dell. XVII. The ballad of this fox-chase has been sung With strength of lungs that roared it out with glee ; And when the chorus round gave mouth, it rung As though the hounds had joined in company. But this obstreperous mirth ill suited me : The wise man tells us laughter has its time;* Yet deeper on my spirit strikes the key, When beauty, pathos, power, and gifts sublime Of high imagination " build the lofty rhyme." * Eccles. chapter 3, verse 4, but see also chapter 7, verses 3, 4, & 5. 12 THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. XVIII. And I can find enjoyment in this task Of humbler measures ; with a pure delight, When nature beckons in her sylvan mask, I trace her footsteps, whether she's bedight With blossoms, or with berries glossy bright. I climb the sandy cliff of Marchington ; And thence to Hanbury's conspicuous height, Far from the river banks I wander on : Before -behind a glorious scene to gaze upon. XIX. Lo, like the Hindoo's sculptured idol-god, Firm on his cushioned root old Swilcar stands ; Casts his broad shadow o'er the lawn's green sod, And frowns upon the larch grove's upstart wands ; Here, lifts his foliage high with shaggy hands ; And there, still stretched to meet the thunder cloud. One bare enormous arm aloft expands ; While, questioned by the summer tempest, loud His voice with deep and solemn roar gives answer proud. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 13 XX. Oh Swilcar, while before thy pillared trunk I stood and gazed upon its amplitude ; It seemed the generations risen and sunk Since from the acorn thou didst first protrude, Before me in distinct succession stood : They vanished still magnificently great Thy living cloud of foliage crowns the wood ; On life's vast theme enquiring, still I wait, Like Mona's Bard before the oracle of fate. XXI. Is to the sturdy oak vouchsafed a term So ample, that a thousand years may roll Before the plant upspringing from its germ To earth again returns the crumbling bolej And can we dream of man's etherial soul, Time's hour-glass measures out its destiny ? What though the body seems to find its goal In the dark grave ; yet Faith is there, to see The seed must die before it can produce the Tree. 14 THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. XXII. Ah that some clump remained of mossy piles, Some vestige of that Temple of the wood, Which once resounded through its verdant aisles With Mundy's lyre. Then all was fair and good ; And Needwood Forest in its glory stood : Free ranged the deer, and every beast of chase ; There couched the pheasant o'er her nestling brood ^ The song-birds carolled ; hummed the insect race ; And sights and sounds of wildness tenanted the place. XXIII. The hand is powerless now, the lyre unstrung, That charmed the dingles with exulting tones ; That from the hollies where retired it hung, Was reached once more, to chant in tuneful moans, The Fall of Needwood with its stately cones ! Yes, Needwood Forest now is but a name ; And Mundy sleeps beneath the tomb's grey stones : Yet still, besides his Bust, survives to fame, His Verse, by genius haloed with her purest flame. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 15 XXIV. Time cannot hide, power cannot quench the lamp Of genius, kindled far above the sun ! The works of art are crushed beneath the tramp Of rude barbarians, flushed with victory won ; Age wastes the giant to a skeleton ; And man's immortal spirit has been driven To shrink in idiocy, with woe undone ; But genius through the night of years has striven ; And Homer's deathless song to this late age is given. XXV. The starry banners round night's azure cope Are conquered by the golden shafts of morn ; So the bright rays of mind, beyond the scope Of matter reaching, yet attain a bourne Impassable, that baffles as in scorn Their trembling gleam. But He who reigns above, Pitying our weakness was in weakness born, In darkness crucified ; that He might prove Strength, light, and wisdom, to the children of his love. C2 16 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XXVI. Where reason halts, and genius sinks in dearth, Faith ventures, with the Bible in her hand : She hails the country of her second birth, And seeks companions to that promised land. Spread then the holy book ! the work is grand, Is God's, and waits not purblind man's complying : The vision John beheld on Patmos' strand Is now fulfilled ; from clime to clime is flying* The angel of the Everlasting Gospel, crying : XXVII. " Fear God, ye nations, kindreds, sons and daughters Of every tongue and people, worship Him I He made the earth, the fountains of sweet waters ; He bound the restless ocean with a rim Of rocks and sands it cannot overswim, And stretched on high heaven's glorious canopy. Sing then, with cherubim and seraphim, In universal choir sing loftily, His mercies, judgments, glory, and eternity !" * Revelations chapter 14, verses 6 and 7. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 17 XXVIII. But from her task imagination roves ; I am not here on Canaan's happy shore ; These banks are not the Jordan's but the Dove's, And yonder towers that gleam in distance hoar, Recal me to my chosen theme once more. Alas, the vanity of human powers, And earth-built structures ! Tutbury of yore Reared in magnificence those castle towers, And now they bear the mockery of the passing hours. XXIX. The palace-prison once of Scotland's queen ! Ah, hapless Mary, hurried to the tomb By bloody hands, the tools of jealous spleen ! Henceforth, whoever treads the shadowy gloom Of yon proud ruins, will bewail thy doom And long captivity. Thou wast a gem Of royalty, in beauty's roseate bloom : Thy nobles would have kissed thy garments' hem ; Yet thou upon the block didst bow thy diadem ! C3 18 THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. XXX. The pilgrim's motto, " Earth is not our home," On yonder walls is doubly written : Time In broken lines, and History from her tome; Have scribed it. Like the exile's* speech sublime Who sate on ruined Carthage, their deep chime Of meaning awes me. Oh, within these walls, Roofless, defaced, and sullied now with slime, Is there no ghost doth rise to tell the thralls )f her that sate enthroned in Edin's regal halls ? XXXI. Look down upon the Dove ! within her deeps Yon walls and towers inverted reappear : And imaged there a holy fabric sleeps, So tranquil in the liquid hemisphere, So perfectly at rest, you almost fear 'Tis but illusion. No, upon the slope- Of yon bold eminence the church doth rearr Its Saxon arches, rounded like the cope Of heaven's bright bow of promise, symbol dear to hope. * Marias, see Plutarch. THE TOUR OF TIIE DOVE. 19 XXXII. What new attractions need the tourist ask To tempt his visits here ! May he not find The beautiful, the bold, the picturesque, And works of rare antiquity, combined With recollections sacred to the mind?- The splendor of the feudal time is past, But much of interest yet remains behind ; The wretched hypocrite* has broke her fast, But this fair church, these towers, for ages yet may last. XXXIII. Adieu ! long wave your ivy crests above The smoke of Tutbury upcurling blue ! Ye Forest Banks that overhang the Dove, Ye dingles and romantic dells, adieu ! Winding in folds of mist till lost from view, The stream up toward an open country leads. Here heaven has poured its blessings like the dew : Deep rolls the corn, and richest verdure feeds White flocks of sheep,f air herds of kine,&dark-maned steeds * Ann Moore, of recent notoriety. 20 THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. XXXIV. Reflecting the sun's rays, the gilded ball On Sudbury's high dome, gleams o'er the grove Embosoming its hospitable hall, With brighter sheen than when at eve it strove To rival, in the placid depths of Dove, The perfect image pictured by the moon. The porter here admits me, by the alcove, Where haply minstrel bards have sought a boon, Or Palmer resting, doffed his scrip and sandal shoon. XXXV, Before my mind what flitting fables cross ! And sure, if ever waves, or earth's green sod, Or floor of rock, or woodland bank of moss, By Naiads' or by Dryads' feet were trod, Here should I look to see the River God, And list his Tritons blow their azure shells : For Dove that in the vallies long abode, Oppressed with shadow, now rejoicing swells, And hither brings the waters of a thousand wells. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 21 XXXVI. At distance due from yonder waving limes, With equal pomp a shining lake is spread j And nature's rarities from distant climes, Their mingled odours on its bosom shed. The stately Tulip tree here lifts her head ; With palmy foliage the Magnolia towers O'er the smooth lawn ; rich is the Orange bed ; And fed by artificial heat and showers, The spicy plants of Ind are nourished in these bowers. XXXVII. On Trent's broad bosom float the snow-white swans, Like painted ships becalmed in ocean bay : How beautifully arched their plumy van ! The jet and scarlet on their heads how gay ! But can the rapid Dove obtain their stay, While rivalled by the fairer-bosomed lake That skirts the lawn ? Or will that lake betray Its isle, the haunt of heron, coot, and crake, And household stork,that loves its sedge & sheltering brake? 22 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XXXVIII. Risen to the surface, like the good man's alms Cast on the wave which multiplied returns, The Water Lily spreads her leafy palms, And o'er them bears her gold and silver urns. From hulb nutritious that beneath sojourns, Its forky leaf the Arrow-Root extends : With genial heat the Water- Soldier* burns, Alert to show himself ; and here ascends The Rushf that like a chandelier her flower suspends XXXIX. With tresses mantled like the weeping birch, Muffled with ivy like a hermitage, In yonder nook is screened a gothic church. Its venerable aspect might assuage The stormy passions, that too often wage Unhallowed conflict in the human breast. Nature here seems in homage to the page Of Holy Writ to wear this sober vest, And shadow forth below the sabbath of the blest. * Stratiotca aloides. f Butomos umbellatus. THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. 23 XL. Here, Vernon, when to shun the sultry noon Thou seekest this cool invigorating shade ; And oft at evening when the pensive moon Suspends her crescent o'er the chequered glade, May thanks for past and present bliss pervade Thy inmost spirit. Heir of noble blood ! Of Thee and of thy Lineage be it said : " The ennobling virtues well they understood ; Theirs was the godlike exercise of doing good !" XLI. Quitting with fond regret, this solemn place, A sinuous path conducts me to the lawn, And park magnificent. In uncurbed space, With towering woods and vistas far withdrawn It spreads before me. But the mists of dawn Hot noon has quaffed : within the sheltering dome Of the deep -shadowed oak the panting fawn Beneath its green roof finds a pleasant home : I hasten on, and track the river's crest of foam. 24 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XLH. Unlike the plume upon the warrior's helm, That tosses mid the battle's hottest strife, This waves alone in nature's peaceful realm, Far from the din of drum, and trump, and fife, The "pomp and circumstance" of martial life. 'Tis sweet to drink at the pure fountain-head ; To watch the streamlet in its snow-white coif Wild-leaping down its rocky mountain bed ; To mark 'the deepened flood in brightness garmented. XLIII. "Whoe'er has trod the slopes of Doveridge park, Where like a crescent winds the " horned flood j" Or with the morning and the early lark Has climbed to Eaton's high o'er-hanging wood, And seen the landscape stretching many a rood, Silvered with mists and streams, if he could find In all this prospect of the fair and good Nothing attractive, let him stay behind ; The power of waters cannot melt his sullen mind. THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. 25 XLIV. But oh, like Beauty's cestus is the stream ! Its glowing chain of waters with a spell Constrains me, and the fascinating theme My verse pursuing, shall delight to tell Of rills and torrents, and the sink and swell Of water-breaks and fountains, that anon Will greet me, in the lone romantic dell Piping, with clearer voice than Helicon, Such liquid melodies as echo dreameth on. XLV. The rapid Churnet joins upon the plains Of Rocester. Here a loud-resounding mill In its capacious hold awhile detains The river, harder functions to fulfil Than wandering in the flowery fields at will. Fettered like Sampson to the groaning wheels, The plunging waters roar, and toss, and spill, With desperate strength, till all the fabric feels The multitudinous motion whirl its thousand reels. D 26 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XLVI. Where art or wast thou, O time-honoured Tree, That gavest thy name unto the fruitful Hundred Round which the Dove meanders fair and free ? Thy branches, trunk, and root, have long been sundered j Gone is the multitude that stood and wondered At thy rich bloom or weight of golden fruit ; The chieftains too, that sat beneath and pondered, With equity deciding each dispute. In worth one oak-leaf now excels thy bravest suite. XLVII. Lo, the round Weaver hills, that bound the sight, Hang like a bed of clouds in sombre blue But not o'er Dove ; beneath the smiling height Of Calwich sweeps her graceful avenue. And now at Hanging Bridge I bid adieu, Fair Hundred of the Apple-Tree, to thee ! A bolder district bursts upon the view ; The rocky parapets of Peak I see, And in those mountain holds, my spirit pants to be. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 27 XLVIII. But night has issued from her caves ; her gloom Climbs like a mist, and darkens every steep ; The light that purpled all the west with bloom Is vanished, and along the flowing deep A veil of dewy haze doth softly sweep, Fine as the gossamer, and pearly white. Thus warned of the approaching hours of sleep, I haste to Ashbourn, and with new delight Pass by its windowed spire with moonbeams tinted bright. END OF CANTO I. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. CANTO II. 1. Oakover's lofty pines in distance seen, Allured me onward when the morning smiled : Within the mansion sheltered by that screen Is Raphael's sweetest work the Virgin mild, Pictured with Jesus her most holy child. All things are tranquil here ; the River flows In utter stillness, 'scaped from regions wild ; And those twin streams twice-born join her repose ; Upon her gentle breast their silver pinions close. D2 30 THE fOUR OF THE DOVE. II. Ham, thy ancient Hall is swept away! A fairer soon shall lift its domes and towers ; While still thy fountain-deeps ebullient play, And newborn rivers grace thy laurel bowers And fossil grots. Strike on, and bring the hours, Thou clock embosomed deep in ivy bloom ! Time holds the garland yet of Rousseau's flowers ; Still broods antiquity o'er Bertram's tomb, And Congreve's hermit cell, shrouded in sylvan gloom. III. Shell of the waters ! in thy jasper cave Slumbering for ages petrified thy strings, And deaf thine echoes; like the springing wave Shake off thy thraldom; from the spell that flings Its marble cerements round thee on the wings Of music rise ! Rocks, rivers, mountains bare, High-waving woods, and all inanimate things, Are vocal now with gladness, all prepare To greet the Pile in Gothic splendour rising there. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 31 IV. Hail, thou cloud- mountain, on whose veteran front The storms that move at winter's stern behest Have beat for ages ! Thou endurest the brunt, Guarding, like knighthood of unshaken test, Dovedale's rock-gardens and her caves of rest. Bound on a pilgrimage to nature vowed, Hither I come with no ungracious quest : Then lift thy battle-axe, O blue Thorp Cloud 1 And answer to my hail with clash of echoes loud ! V. Now breaks the marvellous Glen upon my sight. A beaten sheep-path to a hawthorn bower Ascends; and seated near, on a green height, The valley's central knoll, I feel the power And beauty of the prospect from the flower Whose novelty attracts me, as it peeps Above the herbage, to yon shelves that lower In anger still threatening the death he sleeps, Whom erst they hurled,both horse & rider,down their steeps. 32 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. VI. But soon the alpine vista, lengthening on, Disturbs me by its grandeur from my seat. What wondrous region- do 1 gaze upon? Rocks striding up the hills, where not the fleet High -bounding goat/ nor coney's nimbler feet Might venture ; opposite, a rude display Of piles romantic, such as erst did greet Perchance some paladin at break of day; Dark ivy-mantled towers, and spires and turrets grey, VII. How fair the limpid Dove ! whose waving line Gives life and freshness to each sloping mound. There to the bee her bank's wild eglantine Shews its sweet rose reflected ; floret-crowned, Her plants diffuse their sea-green tresses round ; With starry water-breaks her surface gleams ; And far above, by shadows part embrowned, Part bathed in golden light of orient beams, A wilderness of wood looks down upon her streams. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 33 VIII. Here flourishes the thorn her milk-white bloom Now changed for summer's garb ; light oziers swing, Dipping; their flexile wands ; the furze and broom Vie with their locks, as on the steeps they cling; And soft the blossom-showers descend, to bring, Erelong their forest berries glossy red. From hoary crags the yew his dark-green wing Expands untired ; and every leaf that fled From winter's wrath is here again in joyance spread. IX. Let not the wanderer of the Switzer alps, Who oft has seen the clouds beneath him sweep, And far above beheld the naked scalps Of the huge glaciers, or within the deep Dark piny forest on the mountain steep Has been benighted, treat with cold disdain These raptures ; passion here may reap Strong pleasures, and the soul a glimpse obtain Of nature's wondrous works, and wisdom's boundless reign. 34 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. X. He bears a grovelling mind who slights the charms That decorate the country's open fields ; The man that listless views her cultured farms, Tastes not the bliss her wilder landscape yields : The dark cave-dwelling which the mountain shields Invites not him he treads the ground for hire. No power which high imagination wields, Shaping these rocks, may draw him to admire Their fascinating beauty or their rich attire. XI. Grass of Parnassus, can the vagrant muse Pass on, unmoved by thy inspiring name ? Not blushing roses bathed in morning dews, Nor may the primrose of the evening claim Such title to the poet's meed of fame, (Though many a charmed verse has told of them,) As thou, among the flowers the mountain dame, That, seated on thy shapely pillar-stem, Art lovely as the light-reflecting opal gem. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 3,5 XII. Midst odorous thyme impregnating the air, The slender Catchfly* swings her silver bells On the high cliffs, upon whose topmost stair The mountain Scabious nods : those pinnacles Named from the village of the holy wells, Screen at their feet the Lily of the vale. And oft the shepherd girls that haunt these dells Choice garlands cull Anthyllis, Cistus pale, And Orchis, mimicking the armed insect's mail. XIII. Still, Dovedale, yield thy flowers to deck the fountains Of Tissington, upon its holy day ; The customs long preserved among the mountains, Should not be lightly left to pass away. They have their moral ; and we often may Learn from them how our wise forefathers wrought, When they upon the public mind would lay Some weighty principle, some maxim brought Home to their hearts, the healthful product of deep thought. * Silcnc nutaus. 36 THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. XIV. Now through a copse of underwood the path Its course beside a roofless hovel brings. " Is this the only structure Dovedale hath ? " Is there no temple-tower that heavenward springs ? " No palace-inn to stretch its crescent wings ?" Yes, Nature builds where Art eludes the search : Look up, and see the ponderous arch that flings Sublime from rock to rock its towered porch ; Mark he rhigh- storied caves! her ancient crag-builtChurch! XV. Thou venerable Fane ! thy walls were reared, Thy ivied arches springing roofed the void, Thy fretted spires above the trees appeared, Ere Science one fair Order had employed, One metal, gold or silver unalloyed, To shape and ornament her piles with grace. And yet the high emotions here enjoyed, The humbling thoughts that human pride abase, Might well befit the service of a holier place. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 37 XVI. I glance around the dale from right to left ; It seems as Paradise were passing by, And I beheld it from this secret cleft. Flowers yield their fragrance; trees, luxuriant, high, Climb the rude rocks ; and in the orient sky O'er yonder peak the sun reveals his fires. The sparkling stream of Dove has caught his eye ; His glory lightens all the cliffs and spires ; I see, I feel, my spirit glows with rapt desires. XVII. O hither bring the harp from Judah's palms, With psaltery, sackbut, dulcimer, and lute ; The music tuned of old to golden psalms, This crag-built church, these rocky aisles will suit. They come the wilderness no more is mute : The winds have brought the harpings of the sky ; Dove breathes her dulcet tones, the lark his flute; The psaltery trees, the sackbut caves supply ; And one harmonious voice of praise ascends on high. E 38 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. ODE. t; Thou mountain pyramid, all hail ! In majesty thy Form unveil ! Throw back thy misty shroud, Unclasp thy helm of cloud, And down the vista of the dale Reverberate aloud. 2. Yet waken not yon river-pool In softest shadow sleeping cool j Thine image is the dream That charms the silent stream, - Till twilight's deeper shadows rule, And Cynthia's placid beam. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 39 3. Lift up your heads, ye giant rocks ! Like clashing cymbals rear your blocks High in the upper air ; And may the thunders spare, When the earth reels beneath their shocks, Your top-stones loose and bare. 4. Ye caves, that in the summer's bloom Afford a cool refreshing gloom, A rest to weary feet ; Still when the snow-storms beat, With stalactites of ice illume And screen the coy retreat. 5. And ye precipitous denies, That, rising like cathedral aisles, Catch the first gleams of dawn ; The sunshine on the lawn Between your walls so sweetly smiles, O be it ne'er withdrawn. 40 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE*, 6. When winter comes in shape deform, And the hills shiver in the storm, Scattering their stones like hail - y Still may he harmless sail By every spire whose graceful form? Gives beauty to the dale. 7. Adown these slopes no torrents dash ; But here aspires the mountain ash, The purple thyme doth cling - And wild-fowl on the wing, Are gilded by the rays that flash Upon the rainbow's ring. 8. Wheeling with loftier sweep, the Daw Reiterates his plaintive caw ; And on the cliff's bold breast, The Martin, summer guest, Fixed safely with tenacious claw, Models her stucco nest. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 41 9. And thou, sweet Dove ! thy voice is mild, Thy stream is playful as a child ; Nor want'st thou shady bowers, Or bright aquatic flowers : Vet hast thou seen a period wild, When horror ruled the hours ; 10. In dreadful agitation tossed, Each moment fearing to be lost ; For, from the deep abyss, With fiery vapours' hiss, Rose Earthquake, like a troubled ghost, Darkening the scenes of bliss. 11. "Then shook the hills, by thunders riven;" And Ruin's ploughshare, fiercely driven, Broke through the rocks its way. Who bade the tumult stay ? Who turned the hell into a heaven ? The God whom worlds obey ! E2 . 42 THE TOUR OP THE DOVE, 12. To Him be glory evermore I The rocks, the hills, the spangled floor Of earth, this arch, these caves, And Dove's rejoicing waves, Let every object Him adore, Whose power in mercy saves. XVIII. So when the plague at Eyam thinned the flock, The voice of worship on the sabbath day Within the hollow of the Cucklet rock Resounded. There with mingled sobs they pay To pitying heaven their vows. Thor's hammer lay, All impotent, to dust and darkness hurled ; No more to idol-gods the people pray ; The banner of the cross, in light unfurled, Had swept that brood of. giants from the northern world THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 43 XIX. Ah Memory, if like echo thou couldst give The sound that has departed voice again ; Couldst thou present, as in a mirror live The forms before it, my loved Sarah, then, I'd bid thee solace me in this deep glen With her sweet voice, her angel countenance : But she, though faithful as fond Imogen, Comes not; no slumber can renew the trance That once o'ercame me like a vision* of romance XX. She stood upon the threshold of the cave, Whose darkness was a foil to her light dress : The mountain masonry of nature gave A picture framed with rock, in whose recess Glistened the Dove ; along the wilderness Cloud shadows swept, chased evermore away By the green sunshine ; her gay votaress, The Halcyon, glanced above the snowy spray * And with unquiet wing flitted the timid Jay. 44 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XXI. 9 Nature is still the same ; the birds, the cave, The stream remain ; but her whose presence bright The consummating grace and glory gave, J miss ; and wanting her my sole delight, All other joys seem dead and withered quite. Ah, love and friendship still are precious things ; Man was not destined for an anchorite, But for that sweet companionship which brings Joy to his joys, and comfort to his sorrowings. XXII. The buoyant spirit within me sank, subdued By the pervading influence of the spot, Its silence and oppressive solitude. Nor mine nor quarry mars this hidden plot ; The Fox still shelters in the mountain grot ; And though no naming sword forbids access, Yet here the peasant shuns to fix his cot ; For nature has her sanctities, no less Than Eden's garden, left to utter loneliness. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 45 XXIII. I scaled the craggy cliffs up to the niche That on their summit like a watch-tower stood : Down to the depths of Dove mine eye could reach, A dizzy sight, unfit to calm the blood, But here it roused the torpor of its flood : The freshened breeze in eddies round me curled ; And now descending in a livelier mood, I sought the gorge through which the floods are hurled When Dove seems breaking from an inundated world. XXIV. As when, outstretching up the azure sky, The clouds dispart their purple-tinted wings, We gaze upon the canopy on high Till admiration into wonder springs ; And fancy paints, in bright imaginings, A heavenly shape to wield those mighty plumes : So where the cataract its torrent flings, An arch of rainbow hues the spray assumes, And forms of beauty dance amid the shadowy glooms. 46 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XXV. Such where Niagara hurls her thundering flood Are seen, as roving Indians make report ; But Dove, when swoln with rains and dark with mud, Unwieldy welters in far different sort : And rather would I watch the mimic sport Of bright cascades, in Chatsworth's gardens tossed ; Or wait till Winter holds his brilliant court ; Then seek the pillared caves with ice embossed, And all the magic pageantry of snow and frost. XXVI. She mocks not now the angry deep's uproar, Nor puts her rocky barriers to the proof; But gently glides beneath the frowning shore, As fearful lest the masses piled aloof Should fall like thunder bursting heaven's cloud-roof. Here skip the sheep the stepping stones along, Reckless of danger, and with unwet hoof : I following through the chasm, reach where a throng Of naked rocks protrude the mountain glades among. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 47 XXV11. "Whence came this spectacle of rugged cones ? Was it that some vast inundation hove Hither the Kraken of the deep, whose bones, Then stranded on the margin of the Dove And petrified, give to the mountain cove Its horned aspect ? Or was this a camp Of the huge Titans warring against Jove ? And these their weapons, thus, with echoing stamp, Uprearedfrom earth the valour of high heaven to damp? XXVIII. They lodge on either mountain as a flock Of sheep might rest, or herd of antlered deer ; And One, more vast, fronting the Needle Rock, Above the dense white fog uprises clear. It seems an isle of a serener sphere, Dependant not on earth, but on the laws That guide the orbs of heaven in their career ; But now, upon its base I see it pause, Like Nature's finger pointing to the Great First Cause. 48 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XXIX. Such is the final scene magnificent ! These are the closing Portals of the Dale : And lo, within, but placed more eminent, A Lion, sculptured on colossal scale, Couched like a Sphinx : his body and his tail Are hidden ; but his noble head and breast Declare the guardianship of this proud vale Upon his magnanimity may rest ; Approach, ye Tourists, he will harm no loyal guest. XXX. With quiet lapse the gliding waters lave An open plot of verdant meadow ground ; Where, faring on, I reach a double cave,* Above whose entrances, wide-sweeping round, A frontal arch by nature's hand is wound Encircling both : the stony floor is dry ; And where the shadow deeper falls, are found, As in a gallery retiring high, Ledges of rock, that seats and tables rude supply. * Dove Holes. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 49 XXXI. Here entering, I refreshed myself within With rest and food, and, more desired than all, With Dove's pure lymph. It was no sumptuous ian No ' Haven' on the moors, this gloomy hall, Which yet pleased me ; for here I might recal Judean scenes. The sheepcotes and strong hold Where David nobly spared the life of Saul, This Cave, yon Shepherd's Abbey with its fold, Brought like a sacred vision of the days of old. XXXII. Lend me, O Chantrey, thy creative skill ; And give to verse the powers of sculpture now : For on the apex of that conic hill There stands in listless apathy a Cow. No bushes, not a solitary bough, To break the charmed figure interfere ; But, as a statue fixed, she keeps the brow, That seems its rocky pedestal to rear, Bearing the idol-goddess Egypt did revere. F 50 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XXXIII. By the dense air dilated, on the height, That object still the mind's attention fills, Pondering the effect of place, and shade, and light. Nature exacts our wonder as she wills : The Shadows dancing on the sunny hills, And those of spectral shape, that walk the clouds ; The Echos, whose wild voice the desert thrills ; The silent Mists, passing in wreathed shrouds ; The giant Crags, sole-peering, or in banded crowds ; XXXIV. The lurid Banner of the thunder storm, Flashing athwart with elemental fire ; The Water-Spout, whose strange portentous form Stoops its proboscis like a downward spire, The crater of the clouds ; and, from the pyre Of kiln or furnace vomited amain, The Smoke, whose trailing serpent folds attire The moorlands; these are the majestic train, The retinue of Dove in Nature's mountain reign. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 51 XXXV. In this romantic region wandering on, (Where every living cry can stir the mind,) Recurs the bold rock-scenery : anon, A rustic bridge appears, and lodged behind, A group of cottages, with mill to grind Their slender harvest. Gladly did I hail The sight, in this lone place, of human kind : But I must quit them, and pursue my tale Beneath the tors and turret-peaks of Narrow Dale. XXXVI. Valley of Shadow ! thee the evening moon Hath never visited ; the vernal sun Arrives too late to mark the hour of noon In thy deep solitude -. yet hast thou One Will not forsake thee : here the Dove doth run Mile after mile thy dreary steeps between, Where rise the Iron Tors, of aspect dun : While oft pursuing her dark wave are seen The sportive king-fishers, on wings of emerald green. F2 52 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE; XXXVII. Thy only buildings are the stepping stones, A path of peril to the unpractised foot. But at thy valley-head the country owns A firmer bridge, outstretching from the root Of a high hill that might, with Hanson Toot, Have gained a name from Cotton's classic pen. Here, in the glorious sun-light, I recruit Awhile my overburthened spirits; then, I pass the meads to Beresford's enchanting glen. XXXVIII. But who can paint the beauties of Pike Pool ? Thy Duddon, Wordsworth, in its splendid route Has nought so soft and green, so shadowy cool. 'Tis haunted by the grayling and the trout ; And from the sleeping water rising out Fairer than workmanship of elfin hands Appears an obelisk, a rocky sprout ; Like those of coral seen on Indian strands ; Or shapely pine that sole in some deep valley stands. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 53 XXXIX. Shrubs and steep crags a crescent skreen have drawn, That on its southern side the river bounds ; The fellow bank is a smooth slip of lawn, Skirted abrupt by bold romantic mounds, With foliage hanging as from garden grounds : These lead the eye to open fields of grass : But loveliest is that pool the glen surrounds. High above all rears a stupendous mass, A rock-built range of towers that frown upon the Pass. XL. Enough, methinks, is told of Nature's grace, Poured freely on this stream, to anglers dear Diviner worth has sanctified the place. That Fishing House amid those firs which rear Their tops above it, leads me to revere The seal of Friendship warm as filial love . Twined in one cypher, on the front appear Walton and Cotton's names; there fixed to prove A record of affection near their favorite Dove. C3 54 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XLJ, The heroism of friendship, he could tell Who lay in jeopardy by Ezel's-stone ;* What time beyond its mark the arrow fell Winged with his adverse fate. There, met alone, Wept Jonathan and David, till the moan Of David's grief prevailed : and when, erelong, His friend among the mighty lay overthrown Upon Gilboa's mountains, O how strong He poured his loud lament, in agony of song! XL1I. But here the affections flowed in a more calm Though varied tenor. Cheerful, sage, and mild, Walton's discourse was like the honey balm Distilled by flowers. Along these waters wild, Smit with the love of angling, he beguiled, With his adopted son, the hours away : While Cotton owned the fondness of a child For him, in whose glad company to stay, Had made thewhole year pass likeone sweet month of May. * Vide I Samuel xx, 19. THE TOUR OE THE DOVE. 55 XLIII. Peace to the memory of these plighted friends I And peace to this fair glen and garden grove !. * Where Harrington up yonder slope ascends I hasten still in presence of the Dove, That now appears delightedly to rove, With ampler sweep, receding from the hills. Yet ever as the springlets from above Rush down, she turns to meet their glittering rills, With volume serpentine, whose train the valley fills. XLIV. The " Nile of England !" do not think it strange If She can prove that queenly title good ; Look on from Ludwell ; what a lengthened range, On either side, of moorlands ; bare of wood, (A luxury here,) yet covered with a brood Of feeding cattle and innumerous sheep : These heap the ground ; and in the time of flood The gathering torrents, with resistless sweep, Convey the rich manure to fertilize the deep. 56 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. XLV. The deep, that downward rolling to the south, Wastes not its riches while the rifted dale Confines its course; yet soon with liberal mouth Outpours them where, in many a milky vale, Fair damsels track the dew with brimming pail. But now within its wonted bed the stream Impels its billows, darkened here with shale : I trace them upward, guided by the gleam Of Parker's giant helm that meets the sunny beam. XLVI. But wearisome the way; this vale's extent, Whose long perspective fascinates the eye, Not hastily is measured; and o'erspent With heat, I sought the friendly shelter, nigh, Of a fine ash that braved the sultry sky. On a sharp knoll it stood ; but as I drew Near to its shadow, haply there to lie In dreamy mood, came suddenly in view, A cave, about whose mouth the twisted ash -roots grew. THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. 57 XLVII. A turfy bank on either side, o'ergrown With creeping brambles, toward the entrance led, Approaching here, to the grey light was shewn This native grotto : stretching o'er its head, A marble slab ; its floor a liquid bed ; Its marble sides festooned with mosses thin : I softly entered, with unsandalled tread ; When hark ! I heard an echoing voice within It was a fountain chanting with melodious din. XLVIII. With strength and freedom flowed the water-song ; And clear as morning came the gelid wave, That from a dark recess now gushed along, And spread a molten mirror bright, to pave The fair interior of the fountain-cave. Adown the hollow then, through verdure deep Of plants whose flowers and floating tresses gave Their mantle to the stream, its waters sweep, Till on her bosom Dove deceives them from the steep. 58 THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. XLIX. Then said I, tasting that delicious lymph, "Of life's dull tedium I'll complain no more : "The haunted isle where Circe, goddess-nymph, "As fabled, with Ulysses dwelt of yore; "The Syrens singing on their sun-bright shore; " With less of true enchantment sway the mind, "Than this wild region fraught with nature's lore. " Stretch on, ye vallies ! whereso'er ye wind, " The waters guide me still, your dusky glens to find.' L. Where sleeps the giant in his mountain-tent; Where from the deluge Croome upheaved his shell, - Its mammoth bulk with ribs embossed and bent, The river hurries by each spectacle, As loth in such dread neighbourhood to dwell. But charming was the picture at Wash-Gate ! There, through a rustic arch the waters fell ; An aged peasant by one cottage sate, And one, with ivy garlanded, stood desolate. THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. 59 LI. Now like a playful brook the Dove is spread Among dark stones and pebbles, mossy green, That loitering wanton in her amber bed ; Yet still is homaged as a river-queen. Even here, she is the glory of the scene ; The eye of light, that animates the ground ; The ear, that tunes to harmony serene, The piping rills, the torrents roaring round, And tumbling waterfalls, that rush with deeper sound. LII. Quitting the stream to shun a deep morass, It meets me soon again in humbler plight ; With mosses, rushes, flags, and tufted grass As in a cradle folded, yet still bright, Busy, and cheerful, still in eager flight. I clamber onward through the boggy sedge ; And now the Peak's dark alp displays its height : Great Parent of swift rivers, which there fledge Their infant wings ; the cloud-sustaining broad Ax Edge ! 00 THE TOUR OF THE DOVE. LIU. There rise the Goit, the Dane, the Wye, the Dove ! And if, as when on Ida's summit viewed The rival goddesses for beauty strove, If there the proud contention were renewed By these four rivers, Dove would win the feud. She, like the turtle dove that cleaves the sky, Pursues her brilliant passage many-hued ; Amber blue green and silver, every dye That peat shale marbles clouds or foliage can supply. LIV. At length 'tis gained, the heathy cloud-capt mountain ! Not at the hamlet of Dove Head I rest, But higher up, beside a bubbling fountain, That makes within a little well its nest. Here springs the Dove ! and with a grateful zest I drink its waters, that first serve the poor. O when shall they repose on ocean's breast ? How long must their rough pilgrimage endure ? They ask not, but commence their wild romantic tour ! THE TOUR OP THE DOVE. 61 LV. Harp, to the sweeter voice of waters played ! Where Ham's fountains rise in crystal rings ; And where, mid Dovedale's cliffs, each wild cascade In sun and shadow sports on brilliant wings ; Here mayest thou hush to rest thy quivering- strings For I have viewed Pike Pool's deep-mirrored cone ; Have drunk the marble cave's pellucid springs ; And resting now upon Dove's fountain- stone, Thy music dies away her soft pipe trills alone ! END OF CANTO II NOTES. Stanza 3, line 6. " With him to view the Dovedale of the Peak" THE admiration of picturesque scenery which cha- racterizes the present age, and the English nation in particular, has not at all times been displayed, as may be evidently shewn from the topographical writings which antiquarians have left us. If the splendid reign of Edward III. has, in the choice of situation for the numerous abbeys that were then founded, supplied sufficient demonstration of fine taste and fondness for romantic seclusion ; yet a strange reverse of feeling must have been in opera- 64 NOTES. tion, during what has been called the golden age of our Elizabeth. The following extract from the " Survey of Staffordshire, containing the antiquities of the County," by Sampson Erdeswick, Esq. (who died in 1603) will show that this most beautiful dale of the Peak was at that time held in no estimation. " Dove having past by the side of Alstonfield, for three or four miles, without any matter worth the noting, at last receiveth on the west side, a pretty brook, for its many turnings (by reason of the mountains, and the unevenness of the ground) called Manifold, which taketh its beginning within a mile of the head of Dove, and, fellow-like, keepeth its course with it, not being above two miles from it \intil they meet.*' Stanza 4, line 2. Of yonder pile high-named of Waterloo. This gothic mansion, during its former state used as a prospect building, and popularly named Waterloo Castle, was erected by A. Hoskins, Esq. of Newton NOTES. 65 Solney. It stands on the confines of Bladon wood, whose dark foliage affords shelter, and adds a fine relief to the outline and colouring of the structure. The site is well chosen, being an elevation which commands very extensive prospects, that towards the north having in its foreground the junction of the Dove and Trent. The building, stretching its castellated wings to the verge of the sloping wood, appears at a distance a magnificent pile ; but on a nearer approach loses its effect, being unsustained by the durable materials and elaborate workmanship of genuine architecture. Stanza 6. " Two rivers weary of the Sun, that sheds, 8{c" In the usual dry weather of summer these rivers disappear, being absorbed by the rocky fissures in their channel. The principal of these fissures, in the bed of the Hamps, occurs a little above the bridge at Leek Waterhouses, occasioning an eddy which not unfrequently draws in the whole G2 66 NOTES. stream. But the subsidence of the Manifold is ac- companied by circumstances much more romantic and picturesque. The yawning mouth of the cave of Thor, defended with its rugged tusks, opens al- most in view of the secluded valley where this river, passing over a fine bed of blue gravel accumulated by the floods to which it is subject, enters with a considerable current the cavernous apertures at the base of an abutment of rock. The junction of the wet and dry channels of the river affords a most interesting point of view. Below, is the empty water-course, strewed with pebbles of every size, and fragments of rock worn by the attrition of the billows, and mellowed with all the hues of vegeta- tion ; impressing the mind even in their repose and silence with thoughts of agitation and tumult : above, is the refreshing gleam and the soft murmur of the cool pellucid stream, flowing amid green meadows embayed with cliffs and copses, and backed by the lofty grey hills in the distance. The forms, the grouping, and the intersection of these hills would afford fine objects of study to the lover of mountain NOTES. 67 scenery ; and indeed the whole appearance of the country along the borders of the Manifold to its junction with the Dove at Ham is bold and impressive. Stanza 8, lines 1 to 6. " With them, by Alton Abbey's castle-den, 8fc." The ruins of the castle of Alton (formerly called Alveton,) are remarkable for their abrupt and peri- lous situation on the precipice which impends above the bed of the Churnet. In their present mouldering state, having no architectural beauty left to gratify the curious observer, they however form a striking object in the prospect from the gardens of the Abbey, to which their proximity renders them an appen- dage. Alton Abbey is an irregular gothic mansion, its finest parts being of modern erection, by the present Earl of Shrewsbury. As -this place has now become celebrated for the riches and beauty of its pleasure grounds, it has a claim to our notice : nor will the tourist of the Dove who has traced its bor- ders, be misemployed in exploring the adjacent line. 68 NOTES. of a tributary stream. The country which embosoms this seat of the renowned Talbots is bold and rocky, diversified with wood and water, yet in its general features very distinct from the light and airy scenery of the Peak. The crags here are dark masses of sandstone, often projecting like a heavy cornice above the narrow vallies; the woods are chiefly plantations of firs, of exuberant growth ; and the moorlands have a thick covering of fern and heather, interspersed with the tall stems of the fox glove, xvhich flourishes among the dells and declivities in great luxuriance. On the right of the abbey, ap- proaching it from the village of Farley, a massive gothic tower, conspicuous as a landmark, rises majestically above the sombre foliage of the pines that screen its base. The stories of this tower are occupied by a rich museum of rare curiosities, tastefully selected frbin the productions of both art and nature, and arranged with a due regard to effect ; a fine panoramic view from the platform oil the summit completing the exhibition. Nor is the abbey itself without attractions, Its stately rooms NOTES. 69 finished in the pure gothic style with stained windows and lofty groined ceilings, and one of them opening into a beautiful conservatory, cannot fail to excite admiration : and its outward structure has a venerable and romantic appearance, when connected with the lofty evergreens that line the alleys leading from the tower towards the lawn and terrace in front. But it is in the embellishment of the spacious natural amphitheatre which extends below the terrace, to the right and left, that the greatest exertions have been made, and are yet in progress. Omitting to describe the grand conser- vatory now erecting, whose cost is estimated at twenty thousand pounds, and the pagoda, whose qlegant columns have begun to rise above the water, it would much exceed our limits to enumerate in detail the finished decorations of this magnificent garden. Temples, grottos, pavillions, arbours and trellisses ; ponds, fountains, and cascades ; en- amelled walks, cool arcades, and labyrinthine wind- ings, terrace above terrace ; curious patterres, with choice beds of flowers ; exotic shrubs, and fine 70 NOTES. spreading trees ; the whole interspersed with classi- cal imagery, consisting of marble statues and groups of exquisite sculpture ; with busts of eminent mo- dern statesmen and heroes ; with representations in stone of the nobler animals ; with antique vases, and singular devices of fancy ; such is the display of artificial beauty, which is here blended in profusion, and exhibited in contrast with the wild woods and dark rocks that impend along the acclivities. A partial distribution of sunshine and shadow often adds greatly to the power of the landscape ; while the influx of visitors whom the liberality of the noble proprietor admits, almost v/ithout restraint, increases its gaiety. The splen- dours of oriental fiction are realized ; and the stran- ger wanders amidst this maze of novelty and en- chantment overcome with sensations of surprize and delight. Stanza 10, lines 8 & 9. 4 And fiung in stream condensed through fissures for th. The child of fire, upsent to warm and water earth" The theory which is here advanced in the form of a NOTES. 71 query, is stated as a fact in the following lines of the late Dr. Darwin, which he has endeavoured to confirm by a philosophical note appended to them. Where, as proud Masson rises rude and bleak, And with misshapen turrets crests the Peak, Old Matlock gapes with marble jaws, beneath, And o'er scared Derwent bends his flinty teeth ; Deep in wide caves below the dangerous soil* Blue sulphurs flame, imprisoned waters boil. *NOTE. The arguments which tend to shew that the \varm springs of this country are produced from steam raised by deep subterraneous fires, and afterwards con- densed between the strata of the mountains, appear to me much more conclusive than the idea of their being warmed by chemical combinations near the surface of the earth ; for, 1st. their heat has kept accurately the same perhaps for many centuries, certainly as long as we have been possessed of good thermometers ; which can- not be well explained, without supposing that they are first in a boiling state. For as the heat of boiling water is 212, and that of the internal parts of the earth 48, it is easy to understand, that the steam raised from boiling water, ai'ter being condensed in some mountain, and passing from thence through a certain space of the cold earth, must be cooled always to a given degree; and it is 72 NOTES. Impetuous steams in spiral columns rise Through rifted rocks, impatient for the skies; Or o'er bright seas of bubbling lavas blow ; As heave and toss the billowy fires below ; Condensed on high, in wandering rills they glide From Masson's dome, and burst his sparry side ; Round his grey towers, and down his fringed walls, From cliff to cliff, the liquid treasure falls; In beds of stalactite, bright ores among, O'er corals, shells, and crystals, winds along; Crusts the green mosses, and the tangled wood, And sparkling plunges to its parent flood. probable the distance from the exit of the spring, to the place where the steam is condensed, might be guessed by the degree of its warmth. 2. In the diy summer of 1780, when all other springs were either dry or much diminished, those of Buxton and Matlock (as I was well informed on the spot), had suffered no diminution ; which proves that the sources of these warm springs are at great depths below the surface of the earth. 3. There are numerous perpendicular fissures in the rocks of Derbyshire, in which the ores of lead and cop- per are found, and which pass to unknown depths, and might thence afford a passage to steam from great subter- raneous fires. Botanic Garden, Part 2. Canto 4. NOTES. 73 Stanza 11, lines 1 & 2. * ' Dark as the galleries of that aisle sublime In Thor's huge Fane, which yet doth open stand." This cavern is one of the most remarkable that occurs in the whole range of the limestone district. Us commanding situation, its noble entrance and capacious interior, its application during heathen times to the bloody rites of the Scandinavian idola- try, all concur to render it an object of research and sublime contemplation. It opens to the broad daylight in the facs of a stupendous rock, much re- sembling the High Tor at Matlock, whose basis is elevated far above the dry channel of the Manifold which curves round the foot of the mountain. A path which leads to it from the village of Wetton in an oblique direction, becomes contracted in its near approach, and must be trodden with caution as the turf is slippery ; but all thoughts of diffidence or hazard will be dispelled at the moment of reaching the cavern, whose lofty vaulted entrance and ponde- rous branching roof strike the beholder with astonish- H 74 NOTES. ment and awe. About twenty paces within, an aperture of fifty feet in height forms a natural window reaching almost to the floor ; which, with the spacious opening at the front, serves to make this vast excavation light airy and commodious, and enables the visitor to grasp at one view the colossal proportions before him. Further within, on an eleva- ted part of the floor where the gloom begins to struggle with the light, is a detached stone in the form of an altar, on which it is to be feared that many a human victim has been sacrificed to the idol deity Thor, whose name this cavern N still retains. These works of darkness 'Christianity extirpated ; yet has the place recently become associated in the minds of the vulgar with new terrors, by occasion of a fatal catastrophe which happened here about February, 1825. Tissingtori Mycock, a man of some notoriety as a coal-carrier, having neglected his charge to indulge in liquor at the public alehouse, lost his asses. When the fit of inebriation was over he went the next day in search of the strayed ani- NOTE& 7* mals ^ but instead of finding them, he became him- self bewildered in the snow which then covered the ground ; and wandering to the verge of the preci- pice-above the cavern, fell from its tremendous height. He was dashed upon one of the rocky spines that branch out on the left side of the steep, and was thence hurled into the recess of the aperture already described, where, after a lapse of four days his mangled lifeless body was discovered. Since then, a report has prevailed amongst the peasantry of the neighbourhood that the place is haunted by his ghost; strange noises, it is rumoured, have been heard issuing from the dark cavities that extend within to unexplored heights and depths ; and the farmer's boy when at the hour of night-fall he col- lects the straggled herd, avoids with superstitious dread th gloomy mouth a^nd fro.wning precincts of this mountain cavern. The foregoing sketch of Thor's House is given from materials collected on the spot; but as the ground has been pre-occupied by Darwin, we may H2 76 NOTES. enliven our description with another extract from his Botanic Garden : the subject of the present note and of that illustrating the sixth stanza will derive addi- tional interest when connected with his glowing verse. Where Hamps and Manifold, their cliffs among, Each in his flinty channel winds along ; With lucid lines the dusky moor divides, Hurrying to intermix their sister tides. Where still their silver-bosomed Nymphs abhor, The blood-smeared mansion of giantic Thor, Erst, fires volcanic in the marble womb Of cloud wrapped Wetton raised the massy dome ; Rocks reared on rocks in huge disjointed files From the tall turrets, and the lengthened ailes; Broad ponderous piers sustain the roof, and wide Branch the vast rain-bow ribs from side to side. While from above decends in milky streams One scanty pencil of illusive beams, Suspended crags and gaping gulphs illumes, And gilds the horrors of the deepened glooms. Here oft the Naiads, as they chanced to play Near the dread Fane on Thor's returning day, Saw from red altars streams of guiltless blood Stain their green reed-beds, arid pollute their flocd ; Heard dying babes in wicker prisons wail, NOTES. 7? And shrieks of matrons thrill the affrighted Gale ; While from dark caves infernal Echoes mock, And Fiends triumphant shout from every rock ! So still the Nymphs emerging lift in air Their snow-white shoulders and their azure hair; Sail with sweet grace the dimpling streams along, Listening the Shepherd's or the Miner's song; I5ut, when afar they view the giant-cave, On timorous fins they circle on the wave, With streaming eyes and throbbing hearts recoil, Plunge their fair forms, and dive beneath the soil Closed round their heads reluctant eddies sink, And wider rings successive dash the brink. Three thousand steps in sparry clefts they stray, Or seek through sullen mines their gloomy way; On beds of Lava sleep in coral cells, Or sigh o'er jasper fish, and agate shells. Till, where famed Ham leads his boiling floods Through flowery meadows and impending woods, Pleased with light spring they leave the dreary nig-ht, And mid circumfluent surges rise to light ; Shake their bright locks, the widening vale pursue, Their sea-green mantles fringed with pearly dew ; In playful groups by towering Thorp they move, Bound o'er the foaming wears, and rush into the Dove. Botanic Garden, Part 2. Canto 3. H 3 78 xori-x. Stanza 15, lines 5 & . 4 * Beyond the precincts of the chase he went As once to Shirley Park." This celebrated fox-chase has been made the sub- ject of a ballad, written with considerable spirit, and which it once happened to me to hear sung with an animation worthy of a loftier excitement. The following extract may serve as a specimen, though it is not the most amusing portion. " The sportsmen they ride at a desperate rate, As if they had run for a thousand pound plate ; No hedges could turn them, nor walls could them set, For the choicest of sportsmen in England were met. The hounds they did rally and briskly pursue ; Do you hear little Careless, she runs him in view, Fifty miles in four hours, which is a great ride ; 'Till in Wocttori old park brave Reynard he died. ******* Lets ring Reynard's farewell with a horn that sounds clear ; You've not heard such a hollow this hundred year." NOTES. / Stanza 23, lines 8 & 9. 1 * The hand is powerless now, the lyre unstrung, That charmed the dingles with exulting tones'' The death of such men as the late F. N. C. Mundy, Esq., is a public loss ; and the Bust which has been erected to his memory, affords a proof of the general estimation with which he was regarded. But his virtues have obtained for him a more pre- cious memorial in the hearts of his surviving countrymen ; and the traits of his genius, displayed in the poems of " Needwood Forest," and the *' Fall of Needwood," will be admired so long as a taste for simple melody and genuine pathos shall prevail. His bust, which is now the ornament of our County Hall, is the production of F. Chautrey, Esq. ; on the tablet beneath it, is the following elegant and nervous inscription, from the classic pen of Sir Brook Boothby, Bart. Si) NOTES. THIS EFFIGY IS CONSECRATED BY HIS COUNTRYMEN* TO THE MEMORY OF FRANCIS NOEL CLARKE MUNDY, WHO HAVING MODESTLY DECLINED THEIR UNANIMOUS OFFER TO ELECT HIM AS THEIR REPRESENTATIVE IN PARLIAMENT, CONTINUED TO PRESIDE ON THE BENCH OF JUSTICES IN THIS HALL DURING A PERIOD OF NEARLY 50 YEARS, WITH A CLEARNESS OF JUDGMENT, AND AN INTEGRITY OF DECISION, WELL WORTHY OF BEING GRATEFULLY RECORDED. THIS EXCELLENT MAN ADMIRED FOR THE ELEGANCE OF HIS LITERARY PRODUCTIONS, BELOVED FOR THE GENTLENESS OF HIS MANNERS, KEVERED FOR HIS PUBLIC AND PRIVATE VIRTUES, LIVED HAPPILY AT HIS PATERNAL SEAT AT MARKEATON TO THE AGE OF 76 YEARS. MAY HIS EXAMPLE EXCITE EMULATION ! NOTES. 81 Stanza 45, line 1. *' The rapid Churnet joins upon the plains Of Rccester" " Churnett, at Rowcester, entering into Dove upon the west side, hath its first spring- within less than two miles of Dove-head, though it wanders something further off than Manifold did, and there- fore is longer ere it shakes hands with it. '* Churnett, passing from the head, through one of the barrenest countries that I know, hath not any place worth the naming-, till it come to Dieu le Cresse, an abbey founded by the last Ranulfe, earl of Chester." ERDESWICK. This reproach of barrenness, made in the sixteenth century, is no longer applicable. The brewery and other establishments at Chedleton near the head of the stream ; the heavy tonnage of the lime- stone conveyed by the canal it feeds ; and the exten- sive wir -mills at Oakermoor, and Alton bridge, 82 NOTES. attest the manufacturing importance of the district : while its opulence is not less manifested by the beautiful woodlands of Belmont, and those magnifi- cent gardens at Alton, which are become the glory of the Churnet. Stanza 46. "Where art or wast thou, O time-honoured Tree, 6fc" The Hundred of Appletree is said to derive its name from a tree of that kind, underneath whose branches the meetings of the magistracy were convened, to transact the business of the district. I have not been able to ascertain in what place this tree stood ; but if I might offer a conjecture, I should think it very probable that Cubley, which is nearly in the centre of the Hundred, was the spot. There is no vestige now remaining, but one part of the village where two of the principal roads intersect each other, is called Cubley Stoop, which, I am told, is a corruption of Cubley Stump, perhaps derived from the stump of this extinct tree. NOTES. 83 Stanza 47, line 3 & 4. " Beneath the smiling' height Of Calwich sweeps her graceful avenue,"