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Here finding her surpriz'd with proud Mount-sorrel's sight, By quickening of her course, more eas'ly doth invite Her to the goodly Trent, whereas she goes along By Loughborough, she thus of that fair forest sung. “O Charnwood, be thou call'd the choicest of thy kind, The like in any place, what flood hath hapt to find? No tract in all this isle, the proudest let her be, Can shew a sylvan nymph, for beauty like to thee: The satyrs, and the fawns, by Dian set to keep Rough hills, and forest holts, were sadly seen to weep. When thy high-palmed harts, the sport of bows and hounds, By gripple borderers hands, were banished thy grounds. The Driades that were wont about thy lawns to rove, To trip from wood to wood, and scud from grove to grove, [rocks, On Sharpley that were seen, and Cadman's aged Against the rising sun, to braid their silver locks; And with the harmless Elves, on heathy Bardon's height, [night, By Cynthia's colder beams to play them night by Exil'd their sweet abode to poor bare commons fled, They with the oaks that liv'd, now with the oaks are dead. Who will describe to life, a forest, let him take Thy surface to himself, nor shall he need to make Another form at all, where oft in thee is found Fine sharp but easy hills, which reverently are crown d [sheep With aged antique rocks, to which the goats and (To him that stands remote) do softly seem to creep, To gnaw the little shrubs, on their steep sides that grow ; Upon whose other part, on some descending brow, Huge stones are hanging out, as though they down would drop, [prop Where under-growing oaks, on their old shoulders The others hoary heads, which still seem to decline, And in a dimble near (even as a place divine, For contemplation fit) an ivy-ceiled bower, As nature had therein ordain’d some sylvan power; As men may very oft at great assemblies see, [be: Where many of most choice, and wond’red beauties For stature one doth seem the best away to bear; Another for her shape, to stand beyond compare; Another for the fine composure of a face: Another short of these, yet for a modest grace Before them all prefer'd ; amongst the rest yet one, Adjudg’d by all to be, so perfect paragon, That all those parts in her together simply dwell, For which the other do so severally excel. My Charnwood, like the last, hath in herself alone, What excellent can be in any forest shown.” On whom when thus the Soare had these high praises spent, She easily slid away into her sovereign Trent, Who having wander'd long, at length began toleave Hernative country's bounds, and kindlydoth receive

The lesser Tame, and Mess, the Mess a dainty rill, Near Charnwood rising first, where she begins to fill Her banks, which all her course on both sides do abound With heath and ferny olds, and often gleaby ground, Till Croxall's fertile earth doth comfort her at last When she is ent’ring Trent; but I was like t' have past [hers, The other Sence, whose source doth rise not far from By Ancor, that herself to famous Trent prefers, The second of that name, allotted to this shire, A name but hardly found in any place but here; Nor is to many known, this country that frequent. But Muse return at last, attend the princely Trent, Whostraining on in state,the north's imperious flood, The third of England call’d,with many adaintywood, Being crown'd to Burton comes, to Needwood where she shows [flows, Herself in all her pomp; and as from thence she She takes into her train rich Dove, and Darwin clear, Darwin, whose font and fall are both in Derbyshire; And of those thirty floods, that wait the Trent upon, Doth stand without compare, the very paragon. Thus wand'ring at her will, as uncontroul’d she ranges, Her often varying form, as variously and changes. First Erwash, and then Lyne, sweet Sherwood sends her in ; Then looking wide, as one that newly wak'd had been, Saluted from the north, with Nottingham's proud height, So strongly is surpris'd, and taken with the sight, That she from running wild, but hardly can refrain, To view in how great state, as she along doth strain, That brave exalted seat beholdeth her in pride, As how the large-spread meads upon the other side, All flourishing in flowers, and rich embroideries dress'd, [bless'd. In which she sees herself above her neighbours As wrap’d with the delights, that her this prospect brings, In her peculiar praise, lo thus the river sings: “What should I care at all, from what my name I take, That thirty doth import, that thirty rivers make ; My greatness what it is, or thirty abbeys great, That on my fruitful banks, times formerly did seat: Or thirty kinds of fish that in my streams do live, Tome this name of Trent, did from that number give. What reck I? let great Thames, since by his fortune he is sovereign of us all that here in Britain be ; From Isis, and old Tame, his pedigree derive; And for the second place, proud Severn that doth strive, Fetch her descent from Wales, from that proud mountain sprung, Plinillimon, whose praise is frequent them among, As of that princely maid, whose name she boasts to bear, [heir, Bright Sabrin, whom she holds as her undoubted

Let these imperious floods draw down their long
descent
From these so famous stocks, and only say of Trent,
That Mooreland's barren earth me first to light did
bring, [plexion'd spring
Which though she be but brown, my clear com-
Gain'd with the nymphs such grace, that when I
first did rise,
The Naiades on my brim danc'd wanton hydagies,
And on her spacious breast (with heaths that doth
abound) -
Encircled my fair fount with many a lusty round:
And of the British floods, though but the third I be,
Yet Thames and Severn both in this come short of me
For that I am the mere of England, that divides
The north part from the south, on my so either sides,
That reckoning how these tracts in compass be ex-
tent, [Trent;
Men bound them on the north, or on the south of
Their banks are barren sands, if but compar'd with
mine, - [shine:
Through my perspicuous breast, the pearly peebles
I throw my crystal arms along the flow'ry vallies,
Which lying sleek and smooth as any garden-alleys,
Do give me leave to play, whilst they do court my
stream,
And crown my winding banks with many an anadem:
My silver-scaled sculls about my streams do sweep,
Now in the shallow fords, now in the falling deep:
So that of every kind, the newspawn'd numerous fry
Seem in me as the sands that on my shore do lie.
The barbell, than which fish a braver doth not swim,
Nor greater for the ford within my spacious brium,
Nor(newly taken) more the curious taste doth please;
The greling, whose great spawn is big as any pease ;
The pearch with pricking fins, against the pike pre-
par’d,
As nature had thereon bestow'd this stronger guard
His daintiness to keep, (each curious palate's proof)
From his vile ravenous foe: next him I name the
ruffe,
His very near ally, and both for scale and fin,
In taste, and for his bait (indeed) his next of kin,
The pretty slender dare, of many call'd the dace,
Within my liquid glass, when Phoebus looks his face,
Oft swiftly as he swims, his silver belly shows,
But with such nimble flight, that e'er ye can disclose
His shape, out of your sight like lightning he is shot.
The trout by nature mark'd with manya crimson spot,
As though she curious were in him above the rest,
And of fresh-water fish, did note him for the best;
The roche, whose common kind to every flood doth
fall; [call)
The chub (whose neater name which some a chevin
Food to the tyrant pike, (most being in his power)
Who for their numerous store he most doth them
devour; -
The lusty salmon then,from Neptune's wat'ry realm,
When as his season serves, stemming my tideful
stream,
Then being in his kind, in me his pleasure takes,
(Vor whom the fisher then all other game forsakes)

Which bending of himself to th' fashion of a ring,
Above the forced weares, himself doth nimbly fling,
And often when the net hath drag'd him safetoland,
Isseen by natural force to 'scape his murderer's hand;
Whose grain doth rise in flakes, with fatness inter.
larded,
Of many a liquorish lip, that highly is regarded.
And Humber, to whose waste I pay my wat'ry store,
Me of her sturgeons sends, that I thereby the more
Should have my beauties grac'd with something
from him sent:
Not Ancum's silver'd eel excelleth that of Trent;
Though the sweet smellingsmelt be more in Thames
than me,
The lamprey, and his lesse, in Severn general be;
The flounder smooth and flat, in other rivers caught,
Perhaps in greater store, yet better are not thought:
The dainty gudgeon, loche, the minnow, and the
Since they but little are, I little need to speak [bleake,
Of them, nor doth it fit me much of those to reck,
Which every where are found in every little beck;
Nor of the crayfish here, which creeps amongst my
stones,
From all the rest alone, whose shell is all his bones:
For carp, the tench, and breame, my other store
among,
To lakes and standing pools that chiefly do belong,
Here scouring in my fords, feed in my waters clear,
Are muddy fish in ponds to that which they are here.'
From Nottingham, near which this river first be-
gun [run,
This song, she the meanwhile, by Newark having
Receiving little Synte, from Bever'sbatning grounds,
At Gainsborough goes out, where the Lincolnian
bounds.
Yet Sherwood all this while, not satisfied to show
Her love to princely Trent, as downward she doth
flow,
Her Meden and her Man, she down from Mansfield
To Iddle for her aid, by whom she recommends [sends
Her love to that brave queen of waters, her to meet,
When she tow’rds Humber comes, do humbly kiss
her feet, [fall.
And clip her till she grace great Humber with her
When Sherwood somewhat back the forward Muse
doth call;
For she was let to know, that Soare had in her song
Sochanted Charnwood’sworth, the rivers thatalong,
Amongst the neighbouring nymphs there was no
other lays, [her praise:
But those which seem'd to sound of Charnwood, and
Which Sherwood took to heart, and very much dis-
dain'd, t [tain'd
(As one that had both long, and worthily main-
The title of the great'st and bravest of her kind)
To fall so far below one wretchedly confin'd
Within a furlong's space, to her large skirts com:
par’d:
Wherefore she as a nymph that neither fear'd nor
car'd
Forought to hermight chance,by otherslove.orhale,
With resolution arm'd against the power of fate,

All self-praise set apart, determineth to sing That lusty Robin Hood, who long time like a king Within her compass liv'd, and when he list to range For some rich booty set, or else his air to change, To Sherwood still retir’d, his only standing court, Whose praise the forest thus doth pleasantly report: “The merry pranks he play'd, would ask an age to tell, And the adventures strange that Robin Hood befel, When Mansfield many a time for Robin hath been laid, How he hath cousen'd them, that him would have betray'd; How often he hath come to Nottingham disguis'd, And cunningly escap'd, being set to be surpriz'd. In this our spacious isle, I think there is not one, But he hath heard some talk of him and little John; And to the end of time, the tales shall ne'er be done, Of Scarlock, George-a-Green, and Much the miller's son, Of Tuck the merryfriar, which many asermon made In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade. Anhundred valiant men had this brave Robin Hood, Still ready at his call, that bowmen were right good, All clad in Lincoln green, with caps of red and blue, His fellow's winded horn, not one of them but knew, When setting to their lips their little beugles shrill, The warbling echoes wak'd from everydale and hill: Their bauldricks set with studs, athwart their shoulders cast, [fast, To which under their arms their sheafs were buckled A short sword at their belt, a buckler scarce a span, Who struck below the knee, nor counted then aman: All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wond'rous strong; They not an arrow drew, but was a cloth yard long. Of archery they had the very perfect craft, With broad-arrow, or but, or prick, or rovingshaft, At marks full forty score, they us’d to prick, androve, Yet higher than the breast, for compass never strove; Yet at the farthest mark a foot could hardly win: At long-buts, short, and hoyles, each one could cleave the pin: Their arrows finelypair'd, for timber, and for feather, With birch and brazil piec'd, to fly in any weather; And shot they with the round, the square, or forked pile, [mile. The loose gave such a twang, as might be heard a And of these archers brave, there was not any one, But he could kill a deer his swiftest speed upon, Which they did boil and roast, in many a mighty wood, [food. sharp hunger the fine sauce to their more kingly Then taking them to rest, his merry men and he Sept many a summer's night under the greenwood tree. [store, ** wealthy abbots' chests, and churls abundant what oftentimes he took, he shar'd amongst the No lordly bishop came in lusty Robin's way, [poor: To him before he went, but for his pass must pay: The widow in distress he graciously reliev'd, *remedied the wrongs of many a virgin griev'd:

He from the husband's bed no married woman wan, But to his mistress dear, his loved Marian, [came, Was ever constant known, which wheresoe'er she Wassovereign of the woods, chief lady of the game: Her clothes tuck'd to the knee, and dainty braided hair, [there With bow and quiver arm’d, she wander'd here and Amongst the forests wild; Diana never knew Such pleasures, nor such harts as Mariana slew.’ Of merry Robin Hood, and of his merrier men, The song had scarcelyceas'd,when as the Muse again Wades Erwash that at hand on Sherwood's setting side The Nottinghamian field, and Derbian doth divide, And northward from her springs, haps Scardale forth to find, Which like her mistress Peake, is naturally inclin'd To thrust forth ragged cleeves, with which she scattered lies As busy nature here could not herself suffice, Of this oft-alt’ring earth the sundry shapes to show, That from my entrance here dothrough and rougher grow, Which of a lowly dale, although the name it bear, You by the rocks might think, that it a mountain were [express'd, From which it takes the name of Scardale, which Is the hard vale of rocks, of Chesterfield possess'd, By her which is instil’d: where Rother from her rist, Ibber, and Crawley hath, and Gunno, that assist Her weaker wand'ring stream tow'rds Yorkshire as she wends, [sends, So Scardale tow’rds the same, that lovely Iddle That helps the fertile seat of Axholme to inisle: But to th' unwearied Muse the Peake appears the while, Awithered beldam long, with bleared wat'rish eyes, With many a bleak storm dim’d, which often to the skies [head, She cast, and oft to th’ earth bow'd down her aged Her meagre wrinkled face, being sullied still with lead, [mines, With sitting in the works, and poring o'er the Which she out of the ore continually refines: For she a chemist was, and nature's secrets knew, And from amongst the lead, she antimony drew, And crystal there congeal’d (by her instiled flowers) And in all medicines knew their most effectual powers. The spirits that haunt the mines, she could command and tame, And bind them as she listin Saturn's dreadful name: She mill-stones from the quarrs, with sharpen'd picks could get, [to whet. And dainty whet-stones make, the dull-edg’d tools Wherefore the Peake as proud of her laborious toil, As others of their corn, or goodness of their soil, Thinking the time was long, till she her tale had told, Her wonders one by one, thus plainly doth unfold: ‘My dreadful daughters born, your mother's dear delight, [her might; Great nature's chiefest work, wherein she shew’d

Ye dark and hollow caves, the portraitures of hell, Where fogs and misty damps continually do dwell; O ye my lovely joys, my darlings, in whose eyes, Horror assumes her seat, from whose abiding flies Thick vapours, that like rugs still hang the troubled Ye of your mother Peake the hope and onlycare :[air, Othou my first and best, of thy black entrance nam'd - - - - - - - - - - - - - - O be thou not asham’d, Northink thyself disgrac'd or hurt thereby at all, Since from thy horror first men us’d thee so to call: For as amongst the Moors, the jettiest black are deem'd The beautiful'st of them; so are your kind esteem'd The more ye gloomy are, more fearful and obscure, (That hardly any eye your sternness may endure) The moreye famous are, and what name men can hit, That best may ye express, that best doth ye befit: For he that will attempt thy black and darksome jaws, [flaws, In midst of summer meets with winter's stormy Cold dews, that over head from thy foul roof distil, And meeteth under foot with a dead sullen rill, That Acheron itself a man would think he were Immediately to pass, and staid for Charon there; Thy floor, dread cave, yet flat, though very rough it [me, With often winding turns: then come thou next to My pretty daughter Poole, my second loved child, Which by that noble name was happily instil’d, Of that more generous stock, long honour'd in this shire, Of which amongst the rest, one being outlaw'd here, For his strong refuge took this dark and uncouth place, An heir-loom ever since, to that succeeding race: Whose entrance though depress'd below a mountain steep, Besides so very strait, that who will see’t must creep Into the mouth thereof, yet being once got in, A rude and ample roof doth instantly begin To raise itself aloft, and whoso doth intend The length thereof to see, still going must ascend On mighty slippery stones, as by a winding stair, Which of a kind of base dark alabaster are, Of strange and sundry forms, both in the roof and floor, As nature show'd in thee, what ne'er was seen before. For Elden thou my third, a wonder I prefer Before the other two, which perpendicular Dive'st down into the ground, as if an entrance were Through earth to lead to hell, ye well might judge it here, [found, Whose depth is so immense, and wondrously proAs that long line which serves the deepest sea to sound, [scent, Her bottom never wrought, as though the vast deThrough this terrestrial globe directly pointing went Our Antipodes to see, and with her gloomy eyes, To glote upon those stars, to us that never rise; That down into this hole if that a stone ye throw, ^w mere's length from thence (some say that) ye may go,

And coming back thereto, with a still list’ning ear, May hear a sound as though that stone then falling were. Yet for her caves,and holes, Peake only notexcels, But that I can again produce those wondrous wells Of Buckston, as I have, that most delicious fount, Which men the second Bath of England do account, Which in the primer reigns, when first this well began [Anne, To have her virtues known unto the blest Saint Was consecrated then, which the same temper hath, As that most dainty spring, which at the famous Bath Is by the cross instil'd, whose fame I much prefer, In that I do compare my daintiest spring to her, Nice sicknesses to cure, as also to prevent, [quent; And supple their clear skins, which ladies oft freMost full, most fair, most sweet, and most delicious source. To this a second fount, that in her natural course, As mighty Neptune doth, so doth she ebb and flow, If some Welsh shires report, that they the like can show. I answer those, that her shall so no wonder call, So far from any sea, not any of them all. My caves and fountains thus deliver'd you, for change, A little hill I have, a wonder yet more strange, Which though it be of light, and almost dusty sand, Unalter'd with the wind, yet doth it firmly stand; And running from the top, although it never cease, Yet doth the foot thereof, no whit at all increase. Nor is it at the top, the lower or the less, As nature had ordain'd, that so its own excess Should by some secret way within itself ascend, To feed the falling back; with this yet doth not end The wonders of the Peake, for nothing that I have, But it a wonder's name doth very justly crave: A forest such have I (of which when any speak Of me they it instile, The Forest of the Peake) Whose hills do serve for brakes, the rocks for shrubs and trees, To which the stag pursu'd, as to the thicket flees; Like it in all this isle, for sternness there is none, Where nature may be said to show you groves of As she in little there, had curiously compil'd [stone, The model of the vast Arabian stony wild. Then as it is suppos'd, in England that there be Seven wonders: to myself so have I here in me, My seven before rehears'd, allotted me by fate, Her greatness, as therein ordain'd to imitate.” No sooner had the Peake her seven proud wonders sung, [among, But Darwin from her fount, her mother’s hills Through many a crooked way, oppos'd with envious rocks, [goodly flocks Comes tripping down tow'rds Trent, and sees the Fed by her mother Peake; and herds (for horn and hair, That hardly are put down by those of Lancashire) Which on her mountains side, and in her bottoms graze, [to gaze, On whose delightful course, whilst Unknidge stands

And look on her his fill, doth on his tiptoes get, [set,
He Nowstoll plainly sees, which likewise from the
Salutes her, and like friends, to Heaven-hill far
away, [say:
Thus from their lofty tops, were plainly heard to
• Fairhill be not so proud of thy so pleasant scite,
Who for thou giv'st the eye such wonderful delight,
From any mountain near, that glorious name of
Heaven,
Thy bravery to express, was to thy greatness given:
Nor cast thine eye so much on things that be above:
For sawest thou as we do, our Darwin thou would'st
love
Her more than anything, that so doth thee allure;
When Darwin that by this her travel could endure,
Takes Now into her train (from Nowstoll her great
sire, [gyre.
Which shews to take her name) with many a winding
Then wand'ring through the wilds, at length the
pretty Wye, [doth ply
From her black mother Poole, her nimbler course
Tow'rds Darwin, and along from Bakewell with
her brings
Lathkell a little brook, and Headford, whose poor
springs
But hardly them the name of riverets can afford;
When Burbrook with the strength, that nature her
hath stor'd, [stead.
Although but very small, yet much doth Darwin
At Worksworth on her way, when from the mines
of lead, [east,
Brown Ecclesborne comes in, then Amber from the
Of all the Derbian nymphs of Darwin lov'd the best,
(A delicater flood from fountain never flow'd)
Then coming to the town, on which she first bestow'd
Her natural British name, her Derby, so again,
Her to that ancient seat doth kindly entertain,
Where Marten-Brook, although an easy shallowrill,
There offereth all she hath, hermistress' banks to fill,
And all too little thinks that was on Darwin spent;
From hence as she departs, in travelling to Trent
Back goes the activeMuse,tow’rdsLancashire.amain,
Where matter rests enough her vigour to maintain,
And to the northern hills shall lead her on along,
Which now must wholly be the subject of my song.''

AN ODE. Wr ITTEN IN THE PEAK.

This while we are abroad,
Shall we not touch our lyre?

Shall we not sing an Ode?
Shall that holy fire,

In us that strongly glow’d,
In this cold air expire *

Long since the summer laid
Her lusty brav'ry down,

The autumn half is way'd,
And Boreas 'gins to frown,

Since now I did behold
Great Brute's first builded town.

Though in the utmost Peak
Awhile we do remain,

Amongst the mountains bleak
Expos'd to sleet and rain,

No sport our hours shall break To exercise our vein.

What though bright Phoebus' beams Refresh the southern ground,

And though the princely Thames
With beauteous nymphs abound,

And by old Camber's streams
Be many wonders found:

Yet many rivers clear
Here glide in silver swathes,

And what of all most dear,
Buxton's delicious baths,

Strong ale and noble cheer,
To assuage breem winter's scathes.

Those grim and horrid caves,
Whose looks affright the day,

Wherein mice Nature saves
What she would not bewray,

Our better leisure craves,
And doth invite our lay.

In places far or near,
Or famous, or obscure,

Where wholesome is the air,
Or where the most impure,

All times, and every where,
The Muse is still in ure.

THE BALLAD OF AGINCOURT.

Fair stood the wind for France,
When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
But putting to the main,
At Kaux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train,
Landed King Harry.

And taking many a fort,
Furnish’d in warlike sort,
Marched towards Agincourt
In happy hour;
Skirmishing day by day
With those that stopp'd his way,
Where the French gen'ral lay
With all his power.

Which in his height of pride,
King Henry to deride,
His ransom to provide

To the king sending;
Which he neglects the while,
As from a nation vile
Yet with an angry smile,

Their fall portending.

G

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