As any of them all: the south their names doth
sound,
[found
The spacious north doth me, that there is scarcely
A roomth for any else, it is so fill'd with mine,
Which but a little wants of making me divine:
Nor barren am of brooks, for that I still retain
Two neat and dainty rills, the little Snyte, and
Deane,
[rent sprung
That from the lovely Oulds, their beauteous pa-
From the Leicestrian fields, come on with me
along,
[meint,
Till both within one bank, they on my north are
And where I end, they fall, at Newark, into
Trent"
[holds
Hence wand'ring as the Muse delightfully be.
The beauty of the large, and goodly full-flock'd
Oulds,

She on the left hand leaves old Leicester, and flies,
Until the fertile earth glut her insatiate eyes,
From rich to richer still, that riseth her before,
Until she come to cease upon the head of Soare,
Where Fosse', and Watling' cut each other in
their course
[source,
At Sharnford, where at first her soft and gentle
To her but shallow banks, beginneth to repair,
Of all this beauteous isle, the delicatest air;
Whence softly sallying out, as loth the place to
leave,

She Sence a pretty rill doth courteously receive:
For Swift, a little brook, which certainly she
thought
[brought,
Down to the banks of Trent would safely her have
Because their native springs so nearly were ally'd,
Her sister Soare forsook, and wholly her apply'd
To Avon, as with her continually to keep,
And wait on her along to the Sabrinian deep.

Thus with her handmaid Sence, the Soare doth eas❜ly slide

By Leicester, where yet her ruins show her pride, Demolish'd many years, that of the great foundation [tion; Of her long buried walls, men hardly see the staYet of some pieces found, so sure the cement locks [rocks: The stones, that they remain like perdural le Where whilst the lovely Soare, with many a dear embrace,

Is solacing herself with this delightful place, The forest, which the name of that brave town doth bear, [hair, With many a goodly wreath, crowns her dishevell'd And in her gallant green, her lusty livery shows Herself to this fair flood, which mildly as she flows,

Reciprocally likes her length and breadth to see, As also how she keeps her fertile purlieus free: The herds of fallow deer she on the lawns doth feed,

As having in herself to furnish every need. But now since gentle Soare such leisure seems to take, [make, The Muse in her behalf this strong defence doth Against the neighbour floods, for that which tax

her so, And her a channel call, because she is so slow.

The two famous ways of England. See the thir

teenth song.

A little village at the rising of Soare. ⚫ Leicester forest.

The cause is that she lies upon so low a flat, Where nature most of all befriended her in that, The longer to enjoy the good she doth possess: For had those (with such speed that forward seem to press) [be, So many dainty meads, and pastures theirs to They then would wish themselves to be as slow as she, [maid, Who well may be compar'd to some young tender Ent'ring some prince's court, which is for pomp array'd,

Who led from room to room amazed is to see The furnitures and states, which all imbroideries be, [plumes, The rich and sumptuous beds, with tester covering And various as the sutes, so various the perfumes, Large galleries, where piece with piece doth seem to strive, [tive, Of pictures done to life, landscape, and perspecThence goodly gardens sees, where antique statues stand

In stone and copper, cut by many a skilful hand, Where every thing to gaze, her more and more entices,

Thinking at once she sees a thousand paradises,
Goes softly on, as though before she saw the last,
She long'd again to see, what she had slightly past:
So the enticing soil the Soare along doth lead,
As wond'ring in herself, at many a spacious mead;
When Charnwood from the rocks salutes her

wished sight,

[light, (Of many a wood-god woo'd) her darling and deWhose beauty whilst that Soare is pausing to behold [Ould, Clear Wreaking coming in, from Waltham on the Brings Eye, a pretty brook, to bear her silver train, [plain, Which on by Melton make, and tripping o'er the Here finding her surpris'd with proud Mount-sorrel's sight, [invite

By quickening of her course, more eas❜ly doth Her to the goodly Trent, where as she goes along By Loughborough, she thus of that fair forest sung. [thy kind,

"O Charnwood, be thou call'd the choicest of The like in any place, what flood hath happ'd to find?

No tract in all this isle, the proudest let her be, Can show 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 [hounds,

weep,

6

When thy high-palmed harts, the sport of bows and By gripple borderers' hands, were banished thy grounds. [rove, The Driades that were wont about thy lawns to To trip from wood to wood, and scud from grove to grove, [aged rocks, On Sharpley that were seen, and Chadman's 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, [are dead.

They with the oaks that liv'd, now with the oaks

Two mighty rocks in the forest. ? A hill in the forest.

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 [grow; To gnaw the little shrubs, on their steep sides that 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,

creep,

And in a dimble near, (even as a place divine,
For contemplation fit) an ivy-cieled bower,
As nature bad therein ordain'd some sylvan power;
As men may very oft at great assemblies see,
Where many of mast choice, and wond'red beau,
ties be:

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 preferr'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,

abound.

She easily slid away into her sovereign Trent, Who having wander'd long, at length began to leave [receive Her native country's bounds, and kindly doth The lesser Thame, and Mess, the Mess a dainty rill, [fill Near Charnwood rising first, where she begins to Her banks, which all her course on both sides do [ground, With heath and finny olds, and often gleeby Till Croxal's fertile earth doth comfort her at last When she is entering Trent; but I was like t' have past [from hers, The other Sence, whose source doth rise not far 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, [flood, Who straining on in state, the north's imperious The third of England call'd, with many a dainty wood

she shows

Being crown'd, to Burton comes, to Needwood where [flows, Herself in all her pomp; and as from thence she She takes into her train rich Dove, and Darwin clear, [shire; Darwin, whose fount and fall are both in DerbyAnd of those thirty floods, that wait the Trent upon, Doth stand without compare, the very paragon. Thus wand'ring at her will, as uncontrol'd

she ranges, Her often varying form, as variously and changes.

Two rivers of one name in one shire.

name I take,

descent

[heir. Bright Sabrin, whom she holds as her undoubted Let these imperious floods draw down their long [Trent, From these so famous stocks, and only say of That Mooreland's barren earth me first to light did bring, [plexion'd spring Which though she be but brown, my clear comGain'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 1 be, [of me,

Yet Thames and Severn both in this come short 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 extent, [of Trent; Men bound them on the north, or on the south Their banks are barren sands, if but compar'd with mine, [shine : Through my perspicuous breast, the pearly pebbles I throw my chrystal arms along the flowery vallies, Which lying sleek and smooth as any gardenallies, [my stream, Do give me leave to play, whilst they do court And crown my winding banks with many an anadem : [sweep

My silver-scaled skulls about my streams do Now in the shallow fords, now in the falling deep: So that of every kind, the new spawn'd numerous fry Seem in me as the sands that on my shore do lie. The barbel, than which fish a braver doth not swim, Nor greater for the ford within my spacious brim,

grounds,

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 Oft swiftly as he swims, his silver belly shows, [face, But with such nimble sleight, that ere ye can disclose [is shot. His shape, out of your sight like lightning he The trout by nature mark'd with many a crimson spot,

As though she curious were in him above the rest, And of fresh-water fish, did note him for the best; The roach, 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; [realm, The lusty salmon then, from Neptune's watery When as his season serves, stemming my tideful stream,

Aling,

Then being in his kind, in me his pleasure takes, (For whom the fisher then all other game for sakes) [ring, Which bending of himself to th' fashion of a Above the forced weares, himself doth nimbly [land, And often when the net hath dragg'd him safe to Is seen by natural force to 'scape his murderer's hand; [larded, Whose grain doth rise in flakes, with fatness interOf many a liquorish lip, that highly is regarded. And Humber, to whose waste I pay my wat❜ry store,

[more Me of her sturgeons sends, that I thereby the Should have my beauties grac'd with something from him sent:

Not Ancum's silver'd eel excelleth that of Trent; Tho' the sweet smelling smelt be more in Thames than me,

The lampry, and his lesse', in Severn general be;
The flounder smooth and flat, in other rivers
caught
[thought:
Perhaps in greater store, yet better are not
The dainty gudgeon, loche, the minnow, and the
bleake,

Since they but little are, I little need to speak
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." [begun, From Nottingham, near which this river first This song, she the mean while,by Newark having run, ? The lamparne.

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, [field sends

fall.

Her Meden and her Man, she down from Mans-
To Iddle for her aid, by whom she recommends
Her love to that brave queen of waters, her to
meet,
[her feet,
When she tow'rds Humber comes, do humbly kiss
And clip her till she grace great Humber with her
[doth call;
When Sherwood somewhat back the forward Muse
For she was let to know, that Soare had in her
song
[along,
So chanted Charnwood's worth, the rivers that
Amongst the neighbouring nymphs, there was no
other lays,
[and her praise;
But those which seem'd to sound of Charnwood
Which Sherwood took to heart, and very much
disdain'd,
[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:
[nor car'd
Wherefore she as a nymph that neither fear'd
For ought to her might chance, by others' love or
hate,

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: [age to tell,

"The merry pranks he play'd, would ask an And the adventures strange that Robin Hood befell. When Mansfield many a time for Robin hath been laid, [betray'd:

How he hath cousen'd them, that him would have How often he hath come to Nottingham disguis'd, And cunningly escap'd, being set to be surpris'd. In this our spacious isle, I think there is not one, But he hath heard some talk of him and little John; [done, And to the end of time, the tales shall ne'er be Of Scarlock, George-a-Green, and Much the miller's son, [made Of Tuck the merry friar, which many a sermon In praise of Robin Hood, his out-laws and their trade. [Hood, An hundred valiant men had this brave Robin Still ready at his call, that bow-men were right good, [blue, All clad in Lincoln green, with caps of red and His fellow's winded horn, not one of them but knew, [shrill, When setting to their lips their little bugles The warbling Echoes wak'd from every dale and hill: [shoulders cast, Their bauldrics set with studs, atbwart their To which under their arms their sheafs were buckled fast, [span, A short sword at their belt, a buckler scarce a Who struck below the knee, not counted then a man:

All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wondrous 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 roving shaft, [and rove, At marks full forty score, they us'd to prick, 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:
[feather,
Their arrows finely pair'd, for timber, and for
With birch and brazil piec'd, to fly in any wea-
ther;
[forked pile,
And shot they with the round, the square, or
The loose gave such a twang, as might be heard a
mile.

And of these archers brave, there was not any one,
But he could kill a deer his swiftest speed upou,
Which they did boil and roast, in many a mighty
wood,
[food.
Sharp bunger the fine sauce to their more kingly
Then taking them to rest, his merry men and he
Slept many a summer's night under the green-

wood tree.

[store, From wealthy abbots' chests, and churls' abundant What oftentimes he took, he shar'd amongst the poor:

way,

No lordly bishop came in lusty Robin's
To him before he went, but for his pass must pay :
The widow in distress he graciously reliev'd,
And 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,
Was ever constant known, which wheresoe'er she
came,
[game:
Was sovereign of the woods, chief lady of the
Her clothes tuck'd to the knee, and dainty braided
hair,

With bow and quiver arm'd, she wander'd here and there

Amongst the forest wild; Diana never knew Such pleasure, nor such harts as Mariana slew." Of merry Robin Hood, and of his merrier men, The song had scarcely ceas'd, when as the Muse again [setting side Wades Erwash', (that at hand) on Sherwood's The Nottinghamian field, and Derbian doth divide, And northward from her springs, haps Scardale forth to find, [clin'd Which like her mistress Peake, is naturally inTo thrust forth ragged cleeves, with which she

scatter'd lies

Her weaker wand'ring stream tow'rds Yorkshire as she wends,

[senda, So Scardale tow'rds the same, that lovely Iddle That helps the fertile seat of Axholme to inisle: But to th' unwearied Muse the Peak appears the while,

A wither'd beldam long, with bleared wat'rish eyes, With many a bleak storm dimm'd, which often to the skies

She cast, and oft to th' earth bow'd down her aged bead, Her meagre wrinkled face, being sullied still with [lead, Which sitting in the works, and poring o'er the mines, Which she out of the ore continually refines: For she a chymist was, and nature's secrets knew, And from amongst the lead, she antimony drew, And chrystal there congeal'd, (by her instyled 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 list in Saturn's dreadful [name: She mill-stones from the quarrs, with sharpen'd picks could get,

66

[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, [fold: Her wonders one by one, thus plainly doth unMy dreadful daughters born, your mother's dear delight: Great Nature's chiefest work, wherein she show'd [her might: Ye dark and hollow caves, the portraitures of Hell, Where fogs and misty damps continually do dwell; Oye my lovely joys, my darlings, in whose eyes, Horrour assumes her seat, from whose abiding flies Thick vapours, that like rugs still hang the troubled air,

Ye of your mother Peake the hope and only care: O thou my first and best, of thy black entrance nam'd

The Devil's-Arse, in me, O be thou not asham'd, Nor think thyself disgrac'd or hurt thereby at all, Since from thy horrour first men us'd thee so to

call:

be

For his strong refuge took this dark and uncouth | place,

An heir-loom ever since, to that succeeding race: Whose entrance tho' depress'd below a mountain

steep,

[creep Besides so very straight, that who will see't, must 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, [fore. As nature show'd in thee, what ne'er was seen beFor Elden thou my third, a wonder I prefer Before the other two, which perpendicular Div'st down into the ground, as if an entrance [it here Through earth to lead to Hell, ye well might judge Whose depth is so immense, and wondrously profound, [sound, As that long line which serves the deepest sea to Her bottom never wrought, as tho' the vast descent, [went Through this terrestrial globe directly pointing Our Antipodes to see, and with her gloomy eyes, To gloat upon those stars, to us that never rise; That down into this hole if that a stone ye throw, An acre's length from thence, (some say that) ye [ear,

were

may go,

1

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
[have,
The wonders of the Peake, for nothing that I
But it a wonder's name doth very justly crave:
A forest such have I, (of which when any speak
Of me they it instyle, The forest of the Peakc)
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
stone,

As she in little there, had curiously compil'd 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' sides, 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, He Nowstoll plainly sees, which likewise from the set, [away,

Salutes her, and like friends, to Heaven-hill far Thus from their lofty tops, were plainly heard to say: [scite, "Fair hill, be not so proud of thy so pleasant Who for thou giv'st the eye such wonderful delight, [Heaven,

From any mountain near, that glorious name of 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 any thing, that so doth thee allure; When Darwin that by this her travel could endure, Takes Now into her train, (from Nowstoll her great sire, [ing gyre.

Which shows to take her name) with many a windThen 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 [springs Lathkell, a little brook, and Headford, whose poor But hardly them the name of riverets can afford; When Burbrook with the strength, that nature

hath her stor❜d,

[stead. Although but very small, yet much doth Darwiu At Worksworth on her way, when from the mines [east,

of lead,

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 be

stow'd