Hark! proudly hark! with that true tone Hearts of old Cornwall, fare ye well! Robert Stephen Hawker. Langdale. DUNGEON-GHYLL FORCE. Ghyll, in the dialect of Cumberland and Westmoreland, is á short, and for the most part a steep, narrow valley, with a stream running through it. Force is the word universally employed in these dialects for waterfall. HE valley rings with mirth and joy; THE Among the hills the echoes play A never, never ending song, To welcome in the May. The magpie chatters with delight; Beneath a rock, upon the grass, On pipes of sycamore they play And thus, as happy as the day, Along the river's stony marge A thousand lambs are on the rocks, That plaintive cry! which up the hill Said Walter, leaping from the ground, They leapt, they ran; and when they came Right opposite to Dungeon-Ghyll, Seeing that he should lose the prize, "Stop!" to his comrade Walter cries. 66 Cross, if you dare, where I shall cross, Come on, and tread where I shall tread." The other took him at his word, And followed as he led. It was a spot which you may see If ever you to Langdale go; Into the chasm a mighty block Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock: The gulf is deep below, And in a basin black and small Receives a lofty waterfall. With staff in hand across the cleft And now, all eyes and feet, hath gained When list! he hears a piteous moan. And, looking down, espies A lamb, that in the pool is pent The lamb had slipped into the stream, His dam had seen him when he fell, The lamb, still swimming round and round, Made answer in that plaintive sound. When he had learnt what thing it was He drew it from the troubled pool, Into their arms the lamb they took, Whose life and limbs the flood had spared; Then up the steep ascent they hied, And placed him at his mother's side; Those idle shepherd-boys upbraid, And bade them better mind their trade. William Wordsworth. Lansdown. LANSDOWN HILL. WITH many a weary step at length I gain Thy summit, Lansdown; and the cool breeze plays Gratefully round my brow, as hence I gaze Back on the fair expanse of yonder plain. 'T was a long way, and tedious; to the eye Though fair the extended vale, and fair to view The autumnal leaves of many a faded hue, That eddy in the wild gust moaning by. Even so it fared with life: in discontent, Restless through fortune's mingled scenes I went, Yet wept to think they would return no more. But cease, fond heart! in such sad thoughts to roam; For surely thou erelong shalt reach thy home, And pleasant is the way that lies before. Robert Southey. Lechlade. A SUMMER-EVENING CHURCHYARD. LECHLADE, GLOUCESTERSHIRE. HE wind has swept from the wide atmosphere THE Each vapor that obscured the sunset's ray; And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair |