Her oft enfolding arms, as Westmoreland she leaves,
Where Cumberland again as kindly her receives.
Yet up her wat'ry hands, to Winfield forest holds
In her rough woody arms, which amorously enfolds
Clear Eden coming by, with all her wat'ry store,
In her dark shades, and seems her parting to deplore.

But southward sallying hence, to those sea-bordering sands,
Where Dudden driving down to the Lancastrian lands,
This Cumberland cuts out, and strongly doth confine
This meeting there with that, both merely maritine,
Where many a dainty rill out of her native dale,
To the Vergivian makes, with many a pleasant gale;
As Eske her farth'st, so first, a coy-bred Cumbrian lass,
Who cometh to her road, renowned Ravenglass,

By Devock driven along, (which from a large-brimm'd lake,
To hie her to the sea, with greater haste doth make)
Meets Nyte, a nimble brook, their rendezvous that keep
In Ravenglass, when soon into the bluish deep
Comes Irt, of all the rest, though small, the richest girl,
Her costly bosom strew'd with precious orient pearl,
Bred in her shining shells, which to the deaw doth yawn,
Which deaw they sucking in, conceive that lusty spawn,
Of which when they grow great, and to their fulness swell,
They cast, which those at hand there gathering, dearly sell,
This clear pearl-paved Irt, Bleng to the harbour brings,
From Copland coming down, a forest-nymph, which sings
Her own praise, and those floods, their fountains, that derive
From her, which to extol, the forest thus doth strive:

"Ye northern Dryades, all adorn'd with mountains steep,
Upon whose hoary heads cold winter long doth keep,
Where often rising hills, deep dales and many make,
Where many a pleasant spring, and many a large-spread lake
Their clear beginnings keep, and do their names bestow
Upon those humble vales, through which they eas'ly flow;
Whereas the mountain nymphs, and those that do frequent
The fountains, fields, and groves, with wondrous merriment,
By moon-shine, many a night, do give each other chase,
At hood-wink, barley-break, at tick, or prison-base,
With tricks, and antique toys, that one another mock,
That skip from crag to crag, and leap from rock to rock.
Then, Copland, of this tract a corner, I would know,
What place can there be found in Britain, that doth show
A surface more austere, more stern from every way,
That who doth it behold, he cannot choose but say,
'Th' aspect of these grim hills, these dark and misty dales,
From clouds scarce ever clear'd, with the strong'st northern
gales,

Tell in their mighty roots, some mineral there doth lie,
The island's general want, whose plenty might supply:'
Wherefore as some suppose of copper mines in me,
I Copper-land was call'd, but some will have't to be
From the old Britons brought, for Cop they use to call
The tops of many hills, which I am stor'd withal.
Then Eskdale, mine ally, and Niterdale so nam'd,
Of floods from you that flow, as Borowdale most fam'd,
With Wasdale walled in, with hills on every side,
Hows'ever ye extend within your wastes so wide,
For th' surface of a soil, A Copland, Copland,' cry,
Till to your shouts the hills with echoes all reply.

Which Copland scarce had spoke, but quickly every hill,
Upon her verge that stands, the neighbouring vallies fill,
Helvillon from his height, it through the mountains threw,
From whom as soon again, the sound Dunbalrase drew,
From whose stone trophied head, it on to Wendross went,
Which tow'rds the sea again, resounded it to Dent,
That Brodwater therewith within her banks astound,
In sailing to the sea, told it in Egremound,

Whose buildings, walks, and streets, with echoes loud and long, Did mightily commend old Copland for her song.

Whence soon the Muse proceeds, to find out fresher springs, Where Darwent her clear fount from Borowdale that brings, Doth quickly cast herself into an ample lake,

And with Thurl's mighty meer, between them two do make
An island, which the name from Darwent doth derive,
Within whose secret breast nice Nature doth contrive
That mighty copper-mine, which not without its veins,
Of gold and silver found, it happily obtains
Of royalty the name, the richest of them all
That Britain bringeth forth, which royal she doth call.
Of Borowdale her dam, of her own named isle,
As of her royal mines, this river proud the while,
Keeps on her course to sea, and in her way doth win
Clear Coker, her compeer, which at her coming in,
Gives Coker-mouth the name, by standing at her fall,
Into fair Darwent's banks, when Darwent there withal,
Runs on her wat'ry race, and for a greater fame,
Of Neptune doth obtain a haven of her name.

When of the Cambrian hills, proud Skidow that doth show
The high'st, respecting whom, the other be but low,
Perceiving with the floods, and forests, how it far'd,
And all their several tales substantially had heard,
And of the mountain kind, as of all other he
Most like Parnassus-self that is suppos'd to be,
Having a double head, as hath that sacred mount,
Which those nine sacred nymphs held in so high account,
4 Nymphs of the forest.
5 The isle of Darwent.

Bethinketh of himself what he might justly say,
When to them all he thus his beauties doth display.
"The rough Hibernian sea I proudly overlook,
Amongst the scatter'd rocks, and there is not a nook,
But from my glorious height into its depth 1 pry,
Great hills far under me, but as my pages lie;
And when my helm of clouds upon my head I take,
At very sight thereof, immediately I make
Th' inhabitants about tempestuous storms to fear,
And for fair weather look, when as my top is clear;
Great Fourness mighty Fells I on my south survey:
So likewise on the north, Albania makes me way,
Her countries to behold, when Scurfel from the sky,
That Anadale doth crown, with a most amorous eye,
Salutes me every day, or at my pride looks grim,

Oft threat'ning me with clouds, as I oft threat'ning him:
So likewise to the east, that row of mountains tall,"
Which we our English Alps may very aptly call,
That Scotland here with us, and England do divide,
As those, whence we them name upon the other side,
Do Italy, and France, these mountains here of ours,
That look far off like clouds, shap'd with embattel'd towers,
Much envy my estate, and somewhat higher be,
By lifting up their heads, to stare and gaze at me.
Clear Darwent dancing on, I look at from above,
As some enamour'd youth, being deeply struck in love,
His mistress doth behold, and every beauty notes;
Who as she to her fall, through fells and vallies floats,
Oft lifts her limber self above her banks to view,
How my brave by-clift top, doth still her course pursue.
O all ye topic gods, that do inhabit here,

To whom the Romans did those ancient altars rear,
Oft found upon those hills, now sunk into the soils,
Which they for trophies left of their victorious spoils,
Ye Genii of these floods, these mountains, and these dales,
That with poor shepherds' pipes and harmless herdsmen's

tales

Have often pleased been, still guard me day and night,
And hold me Skidow still, the place of your delight."

This speech by Skidow spoke, the Muse makes forth again,
Tow'rds where the in-born floods, clear Eden entertain,
To Cumberland com'n in, from the Westmerian wastes,
Where as the readiest way to Carlisle, as she casts,

She with two wood-nymphs meets, the first is great and wild,
And westward forest height; the other but a child,
Compared with her phere, and Inglewood is call'd,'
Both in their pleasant scites, most happily install'd.
What Sylvan is there seen, and be she ne'er so coy,
Whose pleasures to the full, these nymphs do not enjoy,
And like Diana's self, so truly living chaste?

For seldom any tract, doth cross their their way less waste,
With many a lusty leap, the shagged satyrs show
Them pastime every day, both from the meres below,
And hills on every side, that neatly hem them in;
The blushing morn to break but hardly doth begin,
But that the ramping goats, swift deer, and harmless sheep,
Which there their owners know, but no man hath to keep,
The dales do overspread, by them like motley made;
But westward of the two, by her more widen'd slade,
Of more abundance boasts, as of those mighty mines,
Which in her verge she hath: but that whereby she shines,
Is her two dainty floods, which from two hills do flow,
Which in herself she hath, whose banks do bound her so
Upon the north and south, as that she seems to be
Much pleased with their course, and takes delight to see
How Elne upon the south, in sallying to the sea
Confines her: on the north how Wampul on her way,
Her purlieus wondrous large, yet limiteth again,
Both falling from her earth into the Irish main.
No less is Westward proud of Waver, nor doth win
Less praise by her clear spring, which in her course doth twin
With Wiz, a neater nymph scarce of the wat'ry kind ;
And though she be but small, so pleasing Waver's mind,
That they entirely mix'd, the Irish seas embrace,
But earnestly proceed in our intended race.

At Eden now arriv'd, whom we have left too long,
Which being com'n at length, the Cumbrian hills among,
As she for Carlisle coasts, the floods from every where,
Prepare each in their course, to entertain her there,
From Skidow her tall sire, first Cauda clearly brings
In Eden all her wealth; so Petterell from her springs,
(Not far from Skidow's foot, whence dainty Cauda creeps)
Along to overtake her sovereign Eden sweeps,
To meet that great concourse, which seriously attend
That dainty Cumbrian queen; when Gilsland down doth send
Her riverets to receive queen Eden in her course,
As Irthing coming in from her most plenteous source,
Through many a cruel crag, though she be forc'd to crawl,
Yet working forth her way to grace herself withal,
First Pultrosse is her page, then Gelt she gets her guide,
Which springeth on her south, on her septentrion side,
She crooked Cambec calls, to wait on her along,
And Eden overtakes amongst the wat'ry throng.
To Carlisle being come, clear Bruscath beareth in,
To greet her with the rest, when Eden as to win
6 A hill in Scotland.

Her grace in Carlisle's sight, the court of all her state,
And Cumberland's chief town, lo thus she doth dilate.
"What giveth more delight, brave city, to thy seat,
Than my sweet lovely self? a river so complete,
With all that Nature can a dainty flood endow,
That all the northern nymphs me worthily allow
Of all their Naiades kind the neatest, and so far
Transcending, that oft times they in their amorous war,
Have offered by my course, and beauties to decide
The mastery, with her most vaunting in her pride,
That mighty Roman fort?, which of the Picts we call,
But by them near those times was styl'd Severus' wall,
Of that great emperor nam'd, which first that work began,
Betwixt the Irish sea, and German ocean,

Doth cut me in his course near Carlisle, and doth end
At Boulnesse, where myself I on the ocean spend.
And for my country here, (of which I am the chief
Of all her wat'ry kind) know that she lent relief
To those old Britons once, when from the Saxons they
For succour hither fled, as far out of their way,
Amongst her mighty wilds, and mountains freed from fear,
And from the British race, residing long time here,
Which in their genuine tongue, themselves did Kimbri name,
Of Kimbri-land, the name of Cumberland first came;
And in her praise be 't spoke, this soil whose best is mine,
That fountain bringeth forth, from which the southern Tyne,
(So nam'd, for that of North another hath that style)
This to the eastern sea, that makes forth many a mile,

7 See to the 29th song.

Her first beginning takes, and Vent, and Alne doth lend,
To wait upon her forth; but farther to transcend
To these great things of note, which many countries call
Their wonders, there is not a tract amongst them all,
Can show the like to mine, as the less Salkeld, near
To Eden's bank, the like is scarcely any where:
Stones seventy-seven stand, in manner of a ring,
Each full ten foot in height, but yet the strangest thing,
Their equal distance is, the circle that compose,
Within which other stones lie flat, which do enclose
The bones of men long dead, (as there the people say ;)
So near to Loder's spring, from thence not far away,
Be others nine foot high, a mile in length that run,
The victories for which those trophies were begun,
From dark oblivion thou, O Time, should'st have protected;
For mighty were their minds, them thus that first erected:
And near to this again, there is a piece of ground,

A little rising bank, which of the table round,
Men in remembrance keep, and Arthur's table name."
But whilst these more and more, with glory her inflame,
Supposing of herself in these her wonders great,
All her attending floods, fair Eden do entreat,
To lead them down to sea, when Leven comes along,
And by her double spring, being mighty them among,
There overtaketh Esk, from Scotland that doth hie,
Fair Eden to behold, who meeting by and by,
Down from these western sands into the sea do fall,
Where I this canto end, as also therewithal
My England do conclude, for which I undertook
This strange Herculean toil, to this my thirtieth book.

Where they sought knowledge they did error find, Ill they desir'd to know, and ill they did;

And to give passion eyes, made reason blind.