Book W^lH l 
 
XH5^i 
 
1^ 
 
WENSLEYDALE 
 
 '■lite,,- ' 
 
 M URAL CONTEMPLA TIONS: 
 
 a Poem* 
 
 BY T. MAUDE, ESQ. 
 
 How blest is he who crowns in shades like these, 
 A youth of labour with an' age of ease; 
 w Sinks to the grave \vi^h unperceiv'd decay, 
 
 While resignation gently slopes the way. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 mCHMOND: 
 
 Printed hy and for T. Bowman ; 
 
 SOLD ASLO BY I.OUGMAN, HURST, REES, RMF, AND BUOWN, 
 LONDON, AND T. FALL, L l.YBURX. 
 
 18 16. 
 
5^^A 
 
 '0?. 
 
i 
 
 A D VER TISEMENT. 
 
 A period of forty years having elapsed since 
 the last edition of the much admired poem of 
 " JVensleydale " was published, the Editor has 
 been induced to lay it again before the Public. 
 The Notes will be found, considerably enlarged, 
 both by the addition of further original matter, 
 and of extracts from authors, who have offered a 
 further illustration of the several subjects. 
 His most grateful thanks are due to the Gentle- 
 men who have assisted him, and to the numerous 
 Subscribers for their kind support. 
 
HER GRACE THE 
 
 DUCHESS OF BOLTON. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 In offering your Grace the humble 
 tribute of these pages, I do but render 
 a right to which you stand entitled 
 from many considerations. 
 
 Your own happy success in the art 
 of delineation, your alliance with the 
 most noble Owner of the ample Ter- 
 ritories, whose unremitted friendship 
 I have now had the honour to expe- 
 rience for forty years, are not the only 
 motives to this address. 
 
 Surrounded as I am in the centre 
 of the scenes de cribed, I could not 
 be a mute spectator, when the objects 
 so irresistibly invited my attention. 
 
 To vour ffrace, who needs no inter- 
 preter of rural nature, I should have 
 
 A 2 
 
Vt DEDICATION. 
 
 stood less excused, had not a Chanty* 
 which I wish to serve, and for whose 
 en^oluiiient these attempts are iiow^ 
 riscjiied ahroad, induced me to employ 
 in this manner a few^ hours of leisure 
 from mv more essential eno^aoements. 
 
 l.'our Grace's Candor, united with 
 that of the puhlic, will, I hope, advert 
 more to the end than to the literary 
 merits of this publication, since I am 
 conscious that so trifling an insect, 
 short as its natural duration woul(f 
 be, must prematurely fall, if the mercy 
 of Criticism, and the fosterino- wing; 
 of Charity, do not protect it. 
 
 Stoical indeed must be the heart 
 that glows not at the view of an insti- 
 tution so replete with present and 
 consequential good, by which disa- 
 bled Industry is restored, pining Po^ 
 verty made joyful. Anguish assuaged, 
 and even Life preserved. Humanity 
 must therefore fervently wish, that 
 the fund of this very important Cha- 
 
 * The last edition of this work was published for tlie benefit 
 of the General Infirmary at Leeds. 
 
 % 
 
DEDICATION. vii 
 
 ritj, in one of the most considerable 
 tradino- towns in the kino-dom, mav be 
 always equal to its liberal plan, formed 
 on the trulv beneficent and extensive 
 
 ml 
 
 scale of relieving neighbour, sojour- 
 ner, and the most distant stranger, 
 without distinction. 
 
 Thrice happy then will be the au- 
 thor, if by throwing in his mite, it 
 should tend to alleviate the greatest 
 of all afflictions, the complicated ca- 
 lamities of indigence and sickness. 
 A plan which cannot but coincide 
 with the softest feelings of youy sex, 
 and be in particular congenial to your 
 Grace's sentiments, extended to every 
 species of distress. 
 
 I am. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 Your Grace's most obedient, 
 And truly devoted Servant, 
 
 Rdlton Hall, 
 May 20, 1780. 
 
 THOMAS MAUDE. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 As many allusions in the following piece are 
 merely local, it may be necessary to premise, that 
 the principal scene is a seat belonging to the Duke 
 of Bolton,* in Wensleydale, ten miles from Rich- 
 mond, and four from Middleham, in Yorkshire, 
 where his Grace possesses property as consider- 
 able, as it is nobly ornamental to the country. 
 For besides a range of ten almost united manors, 
 including many populous villages, and a once 
 splendid castle, wliose venerable remains even 
 now greatly enrich the pleasing landscape, his 
 Lordship lias a capital mansion, three miles distant 
 from Bolton Castle, whence the title is derived, and 
 
 * This the sixth and last Duke of Bolton, died in 1704, and 
 was succeeded by Thomas Orde, who was created Baron Bolton 
 Oct. 20th, 1797, and on the death of the Duke, by his Majesty's 
 permission, assumed the name and arms of Powlett: he died in 
 July, 1807, and was succeeded by his son, William, the 
 present Lord Bolton. 
 
 The family of Orde is of very great antiquity, and has 
 long been possessed of considerable landed estates in Nortli- 
 
 umberlaad and Durham. Ed. 
 
 £ 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 one mile from Wensley, from which village the 
 Dale receives its name. A spot no less conspi- 
 cuous for many bold, singular, and grotesque 
 beauties of nature, than by the lineaments of a 
 more polished aspect. The commodities of the 
 valley for home and foreign consumption, which 
 last is not inconsiderable, are fat cattle, horses, 
 wool, butter, cheese, mittens, knit stockings, 
 calamine, and lead. 
 
 The house was finished about the year 1678, 
 by Charles, Marquis of Winchester, afterwards 
 created Duke of Bolton, and son of John the 
 fifth Marquis, whose valour and loyalty, at an 
 advanced age, were so remarkably displayed in 
 the brave and long defence of his castle at Basing 
 in Hampshire, (now erased,) during the civil war 
 in the last century. A defence wl)ich has been 
 celebrated by a variety of historians, for many 
 peculiar circumstances attending it, relative both 
 to the prowess of the besieged, in which the 
 Marchioness was remarkably concerned, and the 
 treasure seized by Cromwell, at the capture of 
 the place. 
 
 His Grace died the 27th of February, 1698, 
 aged 69, at Amport, near Andover in Hampshire; 
 and was interred at Basing, the burying-place of 
 the family, leaving many noble proofs of liberality 
 to his servants, and perpetuities to the poor. 
 
IXTRODUCTIoy. xi 
 
 In regard to the following composition, the 
 reader will perceive that I have engrafted upon 
 the naked stock of rural description some miscel- 
 laneous and exotic shoots, to vary that uniformity, 
 which must be the necessary result of pastoral 
 ■writing. For however various and charming 
 creation may be in her amazing productions, yet 
 yet it must be confessed that in this walk of poetry, 
 a few conceptions may cover or include a great 
 extent of country. Pastoral poetry is a genus, 
 where the respective species have been well 
 defined from remote antiquity ; an amusiitg field 
 of flowers, but reaped by a long succession of the 
 most judicious hands. 
 
 The leading objects of inanimate nature, such 
 as woods, water, rocks, mountains, and plains, 
 are found in part common to all countries ; and 
 few have features so peculiarly striking and dis- 
 similar, as to mark them for any great length of 
 description, without fi\lling into a resemblance of 
 thought with other writers, or running into dis- 
 tinctions without a difference. It is the arrange- 
 ment and combination of the preceding images, 
 with an intermixture of the humbler orders of 
 vegetation, that constitute the whole of rural 
 scenery ; while the mode and manners of moving 
 life may be called the business. Ilenee it will 
 necessarily follow, that much of what may be said 
 of Windsor Forest, of Arno's Banks, orofWen- 
 sley Dale, may be applied to many other places 
 B 2 
 
xii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 with equal success. From this consideration, in 
 order to form a diversity, possibly arose that 
 indulgence, we may say that literary warrant, in 
 favour of digressions, not tedious or absurd, in 
 poetry on rural subjects. And if tlie case be so in 
 respect to a whole country, how much more cogent 
 must the argument appear when restricted to the 
 bounds of a province, a vale, or a farm ? All that 
 can be well expected in this matter, is, the avoid- 
 ing of servile imitation, insipidity, or disgusting 
 redundancy. The portrait of a flowery mead, how- 
 ever beautifvd and elegant, must have its similitude 
 elsewhere. The sports of the field, and the diver- 
 sions of the village, carry with them also a like 
 application. It will therefore, I trust, be some 
 apology, if I have but drawn my piece sufficiently 
 characteristic of the spot, without pretending to 
 minute accuracy, close description, or absolute 
 novelty. 
 
 In the display of rural felicity, the passions 
 often contribute to mislead. If we bring the 
 innocence, knowledge, or happiness of the peasan- 
 try to the measuring line of truth, we shall but 
 too frequently find that they differ little from 
 depravity, ignorance, and wretchedness ; at least 
 some qualities contrary to what the poets usually 
 draw, too often mingle themselves in the pompous- 
 ly figured scene. 
 
 There was an age, say some of respectable fame, 
 when princes were s>hepherds, and shepherds bards; 
 
INTRODUCTION. xiii 
 
 when a personal attendance on their flocl\S did not 
 debase the dignity of rank; and rural employments, 
 ahnost the sole occupation of the workl, unoppo- 
 sed by sciences or mechanic arts, flourished in un- 
 disturbed peace. But caprice or fasliion has shif- 
 ted the scene; and would you behold the shepherd 
 and the patriarch nearest the ori:^inal, you must 
 revert to where the inroads of vice and luxury have 
 made the least impressions. Such perhaps are 
 the solitary and less rehned regions of Horeb, or 
 the plains of the Tigris, where the pastoral chief 
 in his tent, or from his grassy throne under the 
 shade of the palm tree, gives orders to migrating 
 hordes ; where milk and honey, dates, rice, and 
 other vegetable fare, constitute his daily food, 
 springs his beverage, and unadorned drapery his 
 garments; where placid leisure, cloudless skies, 
 and the soliciting objects of his situation, stir up 
 genius to sentiment and poesy, in the true cha- 
 racter of ancient simplicity. 
 
 It is highly probable that man in the early state 
 of the world, could not be silent amidst the sur- 
 rounding charms of the creation. The view of 
 nature in the firmament and on this globe, with 
 the survey of his own frame, the melody of birds, 
 and the adventures of the chase, would unavoidably 
 operate to the production of strains beyond the 
 standard of common ideas. And, agreeable to 
 these sentiments, we have been told, above three 
 thousand three hundred years ago, in all the rapture 
 
siv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and sublimity of sacred eloquence, that " the 
 morning stars sang together, and all the sons of 
 the Deity shouted for joy. " Hence may be de- 
 duced the antiquity of this pleasing art, hence also 
 may we infer its primogeniture, while modern 
 travellers relate its prevalence, even to be traced 
 among savages the most rude and retired. 
 
 But whether love or war, devotion, the beauties 
 of nature, or the pleasures of rural life, were the 
 first incitements to poetry, is a question not easy to 
 resolve. Yet be the decisions of criticism upon 
 these points as they may, it is perhaps less a doubt, 
 that the happiness with which our poets have trans- 
 fused the beauties of imagery and sentiment from 
 the ancients into their own productions, with their 
 native originality, render them equal to those of all 
 other countries and preceding times. Let us add, 
 that the almost perpetual verdure with which 
 our island is clothed, the variety of its features, and 
 the brilliancy of its fair, recommend it above all 
 other places as a subject for the truly pastoral 
 description. 
 
 The discriminating changes of the year, the 
 attractive beauty of our sloping woodlands, oui* 
 general attention to useful and ornamental cul- 
 ture, the equal tonsure of the fields, and the 
 various evolutions of a mixed and pleasing industry 
 in hay harvest, with the plenty of crowning autumn, 
 raise our conceptions of the seasons to that 
 
INTRODUCTIOJf. xv 
 
 acknowledged degree of pre-eminence, which few 
 other countries attain. For so peculiarly happy is 
 the insular situation of Britain, that the like tem- 
 perature is not to be found in the same latitudes 
 under diiferent meridians : our suns, though often 
 glowing, have duly their remitted heat ; our colds, 
 their attempered qualities ; the clouds seasonably 
 drop fatness, and our soil is in general grateful. 
 Nor will it be denied, if experience is to determine, 
 however appearances may at first plead, that 
 Britain affords more hours for labour and exercise 
 without doors to the healthy and robust, in the 
 course of the year, than even the boasted climate 
 of Italy, so much exposed to tlie extremes of heat 
 and rain. 
 
 The fossil kingdom, though a curious branch 
 of natural history, rarely comes within the poet's 
 sphere. To describe or analyse the qualities of its 
 materials, is a task which belongs rather to the 
 gravity of philosophical research, than to the muse. 
 Such a survey answers not her purpose, nor suits 
 the fancy of her dress; neither does she stoop for the 
 " irritamenta maloriiin, " as Ovid expresses it. 
 Scarcely can cither the gem or the ore attract her 
 notice; for where are the miser and the poet 
 imitedly found ? 
 
 But though imagination dips not her pencil much 
 in the colours of this department, yet true it is, that 
 bodies pregnant with the most wonderful properties, 
 
xvi INTRODUCTION. 
 
 andof tlieutmost utility, are furnished from the sub- 
 terraneous world. Not to dwell upon iron, whose 
 qualities are universally known, we shall only 
 specify the magnet, the inscrutable agency of 
 which in a manner supplies the absence of the 
 starry host, informs the mariner in the deepest 
 darkness whence the wind cometh, directing" him 
 to steer through trackless and turbulent seas to his 
 destined port. Hence our geographical and 
 other discoveries, hence the glories of commerce, 
 and the social intercourse of widely scattered 
 nations. 
 
 The simple consideration of vegetable nature, 
 gratifies without alloy. We discipline the soil, 
 and cultivate the beauties and necessaries of that 
 kingdom to all our purposes, and are happy in the 
 enjoyment of our labours, I had almost said in the 
 works of our own creation. The objects rise in 
 glory and set in gratitude ; they delight the senses, 
 they deceive not when duly attended to, and in 
 some degree reward the nurturing hand of all who 
 properly extend it. 
 
 Tx) this class we owe much of our bodily defence, 
 with various luxuries of attire, the staff" of Jife, and 
 the rarest elegancies of our board. In a single 
 instance let us behold the progress but of one 
 plant, common in its growth, important in its 
 application. The flax robes us in the whiteness 
 of snow, it comfortably spreads our tables and 
 
INTRODUCTION. xvil 
 
 our couch, keeps clean our bodies, affords us 
 paper whereon to express our thoughts, and 
 wings to waft them to the remotest quarters of the 
 globe. 
 
 From still life we advance to the animal rank : 
 we here launch into a world of superior wonder, 
 and stand astonished at that wise oeconomy, Avhich 
 so evidently displays itself throughout the vast ex- 
 panse. It Avould be superfluous to enumerate all 
 the pleasures and accomodations with which we are 
 here presented: we trace with rapture their instinc- 
 tive policies, have excercise and sports to recreate 
 our minds and preserve our health, raiment to 
 warm, and food to nourish our bodies; means to fa- 
 cilitate agriculture, commerce, arts, and all the op- 
 erations of life that require strength or dispatch. 
 After all, it is perhaps the philosopher alone, in cir- 
 cumstances of independence, that can pretend to re- 
 lish the scenes of retirement in the full fruition of 
 their charms. It is he who physically inspects the 
 universe, which the poet only paints ; it is he who 
 morally draws conclusions, " finds tongues in 
 trees, sermons in stones, and good in every thing,'* 
 
 " On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows; 
 " In every rill, some sweet instruction flows. " 
 
 The man oppressed with penury, the mind 
 distracted by fear, by envy, by political or other 
 fashionable pursuits, absorbed in ignorance or 
 
xviii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 dissolved in slo(l), perplexed Avith suits at law, 
 or corroded by misl'orluKes, has little chance to 
 succeed in the calm speculations of rural life. 
 The language he understands will not be that of 
 nature around him, at least in great any degree of 
 purity. Unwedded to resignation, unattuned to 
 harmony and providence, he will but casually float 
 on the surface of pleasure, and grasp at phantoms 
 for the substance. Too, too frequently, I fear, will 
 care, discontent, and insensibility, preclude Imp- 
 piness from the bosom of the husbandman. Nor 
 is it likely that one, under the solicitude of answer- 
 ing days of rent, or who is in want of funds to 
 supply incidental deficiencies, more especially 
 should murrain invade his stock, or floods his 
 crops, should insects infest, or storms destroy, 
 with other the black contingencies of knavery, 
 error, or fate, can boast the contentment usually 
 ascribed to his situation. Thus controlled by 
 elements, and oftentimes by man, not less fierce 
 than they, the farmer's obstacles to happiness 
 will be various and multipl.ed. His hopes Avill, 
 under these circumstances, become not only agi- 
 tated by the breath and caprice of others, but 
 he will be made, as Shakspeare says on an- 
 cther occasion, " servile to all the skiey influ- 
 ences. " He will be apt to brood even on imagin- 
 ary fears, as necessity presses; and Avanting educa- 
 tion to re])ell the enemy, or fill the languid pause 
 of thought, Vi ill bring forth regret, sorrow, and 
 despair. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xix 
 
 But still it will be found that in description we 
 have, agreeable to poetic licence, taken up with 
 happiness in the humble cot, for numerous excep- 
 tions are not wanting" to combat the doctrine 
 we have before advanced: yet it is probable, 
 that in these days of encpiiry, and improved man- 
 agement of land, he whose abiUties and spirit 
 prompt him to attempt, and who has judgement 
 to direct, and feelings to enjoy, bids fairest for 
 the prize. However it will be much, if even the 
 more abstracted sons of wisdom and competency, 
 to whom we have previously alluded, do not com- 
 plain that the poets deceive. Certain it is, that 
 in the happiest state, exclusive of adverse inci- 
 dents, the lot of all men, some melting compassion 
 for a tender and kind favourite, sick, dead, or as- 
 signed to slaughter, will intrusively step in, to 
 disturb tranquillity, and embitter remembrance. 
 
 The horse or ewe, the patient ox, or the useful 
 cow, these his lavoured objects, whose obedience 
 and fidelity he had long admired, which his care 
 had reared, and his bounty fed; these his familiars 
 of the field, when led to be sacrificed, cannot but 
 make the owner share emotions opposite to feUcity, 
 which every inteUigent reader will forcibly con- 
 ceive. There will stand before him that price of 
 aflfection, th.it bargain to the effusion of blood, 
 which, to a man of sensibility, must give some 
 sympathetic grief. But let us in this case imitate 
 the prudent painter of old, by drawing a veil over 
 c 2 
 
xr INTRODUCTION. 
 
 part of the piece, that silent conjecture may supply 
 the want. 
 
 Reality has required at our hands this pictiu*e, 
 the brightest side of which we shall, in conform- 
 ity to custom, exhibit nearest to the light; nor 
 need we attempt to prove one obvious truth, that 
 happiness will be found in proportion, as simpli- 
 city and innocence, under the influence of educa- 
 tion prevail. 
 
 But it is time to close the preface, lest we 
 reveal too much, and sink the subject which we 
 mean should entertain; remembering that rural en- 
 joyment in its perfection, is not perhaps to be 
 sought in the palace, nor always in the cottage, but 
 chiefly in that middle state of life which animates 
 decency with taste, where judgement guides 
 ceconomy, where hereditary or acquired property, 
 with beneficence, commands respect and esteem, 
 but excludes avarice, vanity, pride, and every 
 more turbulent passion. 
 
WENSLEYDALE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 BURAL CONTEMPLATIONS, 
 
 How blest is he who crowns in sh«deslike these, 
 A youth of labour with an age of ease; 
 Sinks to the grave with unperceivM decay. 
 While resignation gently slopes the way. 
 
 GoiSSMITB. 
 
*^^ 
 
WENSLEYDALE; 
 
 RURAL CONTEMPLATIONS. 
 
 Arise, my Muse, fair Wensley's vale display. 
 And tune with vocal reed the sylvan lay; 
 Thro' the gay scenes of lovely Bolton rove, 
 Its peaceful plains, and each sequester'd grove; 
 Enjoy the solitude, as gently glide 
 The lapsing moments of life's wasting tide. 
 
 V"" 
 
 Here, far remov'd from vanity and throng, 
 Each soft recess the genial fane of song, 
 We view past toil, exotic scenes run o'er, 
 And sheltered hear the rocking tempests roar. 
 In waving shades poetic converse hold, 
 And the mild charms of Nature's page unfold; 
 While the lulled mind, soft rising with the morn, 
 Nor knows, nor fears, ambition's chilling scorn; 
 
24 WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 Delays of office and postponing arts, 
 Or how the courtier's vow from truth departs; 
 Each sly evasion nurs'd in falsehood's arms. 
 Or how a quibble virtue's claim disarms ; 
 Superior wrapt in contemplation's themes, 
 Grateful we walk, and meekly shun extremes ; 
 Resting on truth, as moral Pope exprest 
 That maxim sure, " whatever is, is best. '* 
 
 What tho' no pompous pile here rears its head^ 
 No column proud with sculptur'd science spread. 
 The face serene with which old Time appears, 
 Boasts beauties growing with his growing yearsj, 
 While Art contrasted, drops her feeble wingJsi, 
 As lofty Nature, wildly awful, sings. 
 
 But see yon margin of rejoicing woods, 
 Which bending listen to the sprightly floods: 
 Should these, or milder views, thy fancy seize. 
 And pencill'd fields with mossy fountains please. 
 Stray where the plumy matron with her train, 
 Roves proudly devious on the liquid plain. 
 Sweetly below whose gay reflected sides. 
 The sportive dimpled stream meaud'ring glides ; 
 
WENSLEYDALE. ?5 
 
 "Reluctant yielding tends to distant shores, 
 And the dread wonders of the deep explores ; 
 Now swells with commerce Britain's envied reign, 
 Now bears her bulwarks o'er the subject main. 
 Exhale ye suns, ye winds your wings expand, 
 And timely fertilize a favour'd land : 
 In gentle rains and balmy dews return 
 The borrow'd treasures of the streaming umj 
 On thirsty herds the freshen'd wave bestow. 
 And bounteous bid dispersive plenty flow. 
 So sails the merchant, Ophirs to pursue. 
 And ling'ring bids domestic joys adieu ; 
 While plaintive eyes the less'ning hills bewail, 
 And anxious sighs his heaving breast assail ; 
 Launched on the billows, now with adverse toil. 
 He slowly gains the long expected soil ; 
 From traffic's fount arise his views to roam, 
 For decent wealth to grace his happy home. 
 When gentle gales and pleasure's liigh command. 
 Propitious waft him to his native strand. 
 
 Nor absent are smooth culture's pleasing vales^ 
 With groves adapted to fond lovers' tales ; 
 
26 WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 Nor banks inviting, nor the rosy bower, 
 Their blest retirement in the tender hour ; 
 While from the spreading beech the conscious dove 
 Invokes the happy pair to blameless love : 
 The woods responsive melting music bear, 
 And choral plaudits float along the air. 
 
 Ah ! mark, ye blooming nymphs, alluring May, 
 Nor let her charms your brighter charms betray. 
 So spoke the sage, well vers'd in female hearts, 
 Vers'd how the quiver'd boy directs his darts : 
 So Rome's wise augur, Caesar's life to spare, 
 Bade the great chief of fatal March beware; 
 While he, regardless, arm'd with Stoic pride, 
 Contemn'd the truth-presaging tale, and died. 
 
 Say now, Philander, to which path inclin'd, 
 Since beauties croud upon the dubious mind ; 
 The Park umbrageous, wide extended lawn, 
 The climbing vista, and the toyful fawn ; 
 Yon blossom'd copse, the hawthorn's pearly spray, 
 Whence the sweet thrilling thrush awakes the day; 
 
WENSLEYDALE. 2? 
 
 The grateful woodbine dangling in the breeze, 
 ^naraell'd meads and stately quiv'ring trees; 
 The bird with human laugh, the cawing rook. 
 The sprightly squirrel, and the babbling brook ; 
 The vocal cuckoo, and the brilliant jay, 
 DeckM with the lustre of reflected day ; 
 All, all combine to make the group complete, 
 And give to Powlett nature's fairest seat. 
 
 " 1 
 
 But let us search the scene with nearer eyes. 
 And range descriptive as new objects rise. 
 Full then to sight from Spenithorne the gay, 
 Alike the view from Harmby's sloping way, 
 With aspect open to the rising ray. 
 Stands high-plac'd Middl'hara, marked with 
 
 martial scars. 
 The fatal record of intestine wars ; 
 A Neville's pile, where Cromwell's rage we trace, 
 In wounded grandeur and expiring grace ; 
 Where Devastation holds her gloomy court. 
 And boding birds on restless wing resort j 
 While Cynthia pale glides o'er the dreary boundj 
 And Fancy rears ideal terrors round, 
 D 2 
 
I WENSLEYDALK. 
 
 Sheds oil the dusky mind portending forms, 
 
 Of palsied walls and wrecks of sweeping storms; 
 
 Of roaming elves, with demons of dismay, 
 
 Nurs'd by the twilight of the mental day. 
 
 Yet jjainful is the scene, if right we state. 
 
 Its past aspiring aims and present fate : 
 
 Hence are we taught to curb life's vain career. 
 
 When curst Ambition taints the list'ning ear; 
 
 Hence learn the golden mean, Contentment's plan. 
 
 Which constitutes thie solid bliss of man; 
 
 A spring whence lucid streams unceasing flow^ 
 
 In climes solstitial and Siberia's snow; 
 
 Grant me in purity and peace to live : 
 
 Stvell not, my soul ! 'tis all the world can givei 
 
 To prospects less sedate we bend our way. 
 And, in apt numbers, fitly would display 
 The terrac'd heights expanded to the sun. 
 Or velvet turf where panting coursers run ; 
 There bred and trained, exulting in the chaec, 
 They win the splendid trophies of the race. 
 Full to the point where first the meek-ey'd morn, 
 Dispensing joy, on crimson wings is borne, 
 
WENSLEYDALE. 2» 
 
 Far, far extend your view o'er Mowbray's plain, 
 Till distance curtains the remote domain ; 
 Distinctly, near, each pressing image yields 
 The fair idea of Thessalian fields. 
 
 Nor here shall Exercise remain unsung*, 
 Thou nurse of strength, kind patron of the youngs 
 Health's polar star, by which we steady steer. 
 Thro' all the changes of the varying year. 
 No more the hov'ring hand, by thee restor'd, 
 Shall coyly cull its pittance from the board ; 
 By thee attuned, by thy attractions lead, 
 No poppy's balm needs sooth the sleepless fted ; 
 No pen prescriptive, fraught with Latian lore, 
 Or skill imported from the Coan shore. 
 Need plan the process with important air, 
 With fruitless pity, or with dubious care ; 
 The drug disgusting shall the mansion fly. 
 And thou and Temperance the dose supply. 
 But each wise rule, the bliss of health to reach. 
 In sterling strains let musing Armstrong teach 
 
 Exalted Leyburn next, with open arms, 
 Due north our moving observation charms; 
 
30 WENSLEYDALE.^ 
 
 Where, from its rocky verge and sylvan side, 
 Most aptly rang'd in gay theatric pride, 
 We view a lower world, where beauties spring. 
 Tempting and fair as classic poets sing; 
 Woods, streams, and flocks, the vale's sweet 
 
 bosom grace. 
 And happy Culture smooths her cheerful face, 
 
 Why need we want the shining sphere to know, 
 How music charms, why spreads the heav'nlybow. 
 While Gargrave's piercing lore descries from far. 
 Along the milky way, the tube-sought star ; 
 Whose skill can teach, whose candour will explain. 
 Each distant wonder of Urania's reign. 
 
 Westward we move, till chaos-like appears, 
 The quarry's fragment of a thousand years. 
 Led by the bracing breezes of the plain. 
 High Preston's tissu'd green we soon attain, 
 Delighted ramble in the daisied mead. 
 That springs elastic with the bounding steed. 
 But cease my steps, free feast the roving eye ; 
 Here villas rise, there martial ruins lie : 
 
WENSLir!fDALE. 31 
 
 No wishM-for something, fitly to intrude, 
 No want of frolic Nature, pleasing, rude. 
 No bloomy softness fondly to allure. 
 Drawn from the smiling banks of easy Eure, 
 Nor temples pious, objects nobly bold, 
 Need we deplore ; the aggregate behold ! 
 
 Now from her squatted bed, enclosed or bare, 
 With dextr'ous evolutions starts the hare : 
 Where the stretch' d greyhound in the curving 
 
 course, 
 Vies with the wind's accelerated force; 
 Exerts each nerve in emulation's cause. 
 While judgement faulters to decide applause. 
 
 Opposing motives urge the fierce career, 
 Hope him impells, she rapid flies with fear ; 
 While fear and hope one mingled scene supply, 
 The victor and the vanquish'd breathless lie. 
 So strain the youths, proud of gymnastic fame j 
 So strove the heroes of tli' Olympic game; 
 So speed the polish'd coursers of the plain; 
 So drives the storm impetuous o'er the main. 
 
%2 W£NSLBYCALe. 
 
 Come, crescent-nymph, full fraught with sylvan 
 lore, 
 Nor blush to school thyself on Albion's shore. 
 Hark ! how the cheering, loud, emphatic horn. 
 Convenes the clamorous pack to scent the morn ; 
 The tainted tufts the rising peal provoke. 
 Till the mixed clangor agitates the oak ; 
 The base-ton'd man, the shrill obstrep'rous boy. 
 Exulting fill the wide-spread notes of joy ; 
 The chearful notes far-echoing rocks rebound. 
 And nerves accordant own the magic sound ; 
 Scarce less in pow'r the music of our chace. 
 Than the famM strains of softly tutor'd Thrace- 
 Long time the folds Volpone with blood had 
 stain'd. 
 Long had the village of his spoils complain'd. 
 Long deep dismay had travers'd o'er the plain, 
 Where deeds atrocious spoke the despot's reign. 
 Scar'd by the tumult of promiscuous cries. 
 Sly from the brake the furtive prowler flies j 
 An awful band with vengeful pomp pursues. 
 And the bold times of Nimrod's sway renews ; 
 
WENSLEYDALE. 83 
 
 The distant rear a jovial van succeeds, 
 
 While the wide welkin rings, the victim bleeds ! 
 
 No more his wiles shall innocence betray, 
 
 Nor mangled fragments mark the caitiffs way : 
 
 Rejoice ye flocks, applaud each gladd'ning wing, 
 
 Peace, lo Paean ! lo Paean ! sing. 
 
 Say tyrants, say, by guilty passions hurl' d, 
 
 Who roll your thunders o'er a trembling world, 
 
 Shall pow'r rapacious hope a better fate ? 
 
 So far'd, so justly fell, Rome's mighty state. 
 
 But leave to Somerville the wreathed bays, 
 Nor dare, my Muse, thy feeble voice to raise ; 
 Low at his shrine Parnassian flow'rets strew. 
 Nor vainly strive his footsteps to pursue. 
 Unrivall'd he in classic chace to roam. 
 Bring every rural pleasure winged home ; 
 Where thought with thought contends in social 
 
 strife. 
 Each word a scion shooting into life. 
 Wide and more wide his lofty muse expands, 
 And every trophy of the Nine commands; 
 
 E 
 
34 WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 For thy lov'd verse accept, immortal shade ! 
 This artless tribute to thy merit paid. 
 
 Alert, you sportive now the grouse pursue. 
 Of mingled brown, and variegated hue ; 
 With urging instinct silently beset 
 The latent captives of the wavy net ; 
 Or, quick as lightning, with explosive force, 
 Deadly arrest their sounding airy course; 
 The fragrant breath of flow'ry heath inhale, 
 That gently floats upon the fanning gale ; 
 Thy labours partly sped, refreshment near. 
 Then lend to noontide calls a willing ear. 
 Should frowning skies portend a coming storm, 
 By some clear spring thy tented station form ; 
 And yet for shade, Sol's beaming ray intense. 
 We deem it prudent, timely thus to fence ; 
 With mirth relax, nor from the vine refrain. 
 Which gives the pallid lymph a blushing stain. 
 Proceed, ye sons of sport, on this safe plan. 
 Reject the foodful pastime if you can ; 
 If nerv'd thy limbs, and flushing health thy boon. 
 Sprightly as morn, and glowing as tlie noon. 
 
WEiVSLEYDALE. 35 
 
 Assert your strength, enjoy the western ray, 
 
 While loaded breezes round the pointers play. 
 
 At eve review whatever labours please, 
 
 And prove the luxury of toil and ease, 
 
 Till sleep, kind genial pow'r, demands his turn. 
 
 And, vig'rous, strings thee for returning morn. 
 
 Lo ! where the glist'ning store, disclos'd to day. 
 By chemic art assumes more potent sway ; 
 Now in extended sheets secure the pile, 
 Now lend the faded face delusion's smile ; 
 Now, vaunting, mimic the carnation's bloom. 
 The canvas swell, or gayly robe the room. 
 Ah ! were but these the uses of the ore. 
 Death less had triumph'd on the Stygian shore . 
 The crimson'd field, the horror-dashing deep. 
 Had not so frequent uiade affliction weep. 
 
 Say, Bolton, say, lord of each sparkling mine, 
 For wealth upon diffusive hills is thine, 
 Whose mazy vales, their duty to express. 
 Bright tributes pour, array'd in gayest dress; 
 E 2 
 
36 WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 Where sky -bound circles measure thy domain, 
 And Alpine heights connect the glorious chain ; 
 Say, can this world, for thee so richly clad, 
 Extended wide, another blessing add ? 
 Added it hath — the choicest prize in life, 
 The crown of ev'ry bliss, a tender wife, 
 As morning fair, as downy zephyr mild, 
 In form a Juno, purity a child ; 
 Whose flowing pen the laurell'd Muses hail, 
 While ev'ry grace adorns the tuneful tale. 
 
 Southward we move, where spreading groves? 
 declare 
 The goodly mansion of the noble pair ; 
 Not modern trimm'd, yet stranger to decay, 
 A pleasing habitation we survey. 
 No tortur'd objects, gothically bent. 
 No fritter'd scenes disgustful, here present; 
 No lark can hail a more enchanting dawn. 
 No curving swallow skim a brighter lawn ; 
 Streams, woods, and hills, their vying charmii 
 
 impart. 
 And, fresh from nature, nobly beggar art. 
 
WENSLEYDALE. 3t 
 
 Surrounded thus, well may the poet say, 
 Absent from thee, my vale, " I've lost a day. " 
 
 Now let our steps the verdant tracks pursue, 
 And catch the passing objects full in view ; 
 Yon mystic windings of the hill pervade. 
 The ample circus, or the open glade; 
 Or devious saunter where the shady way 
 Secludes the storm, and Phoebus' piercing ray; 
 Collect instruction from the throngs we see 
 Thro' life sagacious, in each plant and tree; 
 With eye attentive rapturously trace. 
 The various orders of the puny race. 
 Whether they woo the cover or the gleam, 
 Or nimbly navigate the swarming stream ; 
 Whether along the lap of earth they stray. 
 Or on light pinions steer their airy way ; 
 Mark how the sap in slender tube ascends ; 
 Where sense begins, and vegetation ends ; 
 How nature works consistent in her plan. 
 From simple atoms up to complex man. 
 
 Behold that arch, the glory of the sky, 
 Its vivid tints, inimitable dye; 
 
38 WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 See fluid gems with gayest lustre proud, 
 The floating remnants of a weeping cloud. 
 Say, who explain'd the nice-refracted ray. 
 And brought forth darkness to the test of day ; 
 Who with sagacious ken best understood, 
 The stated motions of the whelming flood ; 
 Or how attraction so unerring steers, 
 Thro' the vast void, variety of spheres ? 
 Newton ! the lofty wonder of the age. 
 Learning's great boast, and Europe's leading 
 
 sage; 
 Deceit he knew not, bred in Nature's school, 
 He fathom'd depths with Nature's line and rule ; 
 The key of science, Truth to Newton lent. 
 And bade him nobly range her whole extent : 
 The delegated trust she warm approv'd, 
 WhenHeav'n resum'd the soul it form'd and lov'd. 
 
 Of Redmire's mining town how shall we sing? 
 The circling verdure and its healing spring 
 Are all the rooted peasant's native tale. 
 Who ne'er transgress'd the barrier of his vale. 
 
WENSLEYDALE. M 
 
 His vulgar thoughts to narrow views coufin'd, 
 Nor genius charms, nor arts expand his mind ; 
 Simply he thinks the cloud-invested mounds, 
 Contains the compass of the world's vast boutids; 
 Yet to the peasant's rude unpolish'd hand, 
 Owe we the fairest structures of the land : 
 On his strong base is built the Doric dome, 
 From him arise the textures of the loom ; 
 As heavy weights the finer springs impel, 
 So, with toil's efforts nobler minds excel. 
 
 Thron'din athletic state, superbly stands 
 The graceful castle 'midst luxuriant lands ; 
 Historic Bolton, thro' past ages fam'd, 
 Now by the line of ducal Powletts claim'd, 
 Where erst the wealthy Scropes in state sojoumM, 
 And Scotland's Queen in tragic durance mourn'd. 
 
 Here pause, my muse, nor stop the rising sigh, 
 Nor yet the forming tear from Sorrow's eye; 
 Farewell Mirth's rosy train, inspiring bowlj 
 The festive welcome and dilated soul : 
 
40 WEJfSLEYDAUi. 
 
 'Tis here reflection plumes her moral lay, 
 
 And sets contrasted shades in just array. 
 
 Ah, chang'd indeed ! ah! how revers'd ! condole. 
 
 Ye mocking echoes, and the wild wind's howl. 
 
 What can Ambition's swelling domes avail, 
 
 When Time's corroding fangs their walls assail I 
 
 Hence let this scene, this mournful scene, impart 
 
 One useful lesson to the virtuous heart, 
 
 How human ken to destiny is blind, 
 
 And that man's works "leave not a wreck behind." 
 
 Enough of woe, then turn we to behold 
 Creation's ampler works, aspiring, bold; 
 See beacon'd Penhill, view its stately rise. 
 Whose scaling altitude invades the skies ; 
 Go, climb its brow, its airy tracks explore, 
 Where breezes wanton from the western shore ; 
 Fondly survey fair Cleveland's distant strand, 
 And golden Durham's terminating land. 
 The eye descending now o'er Penhill's base, 
 We decent Witton's pleasing prospects trace. 
 Here fleecy troops adorn the sloping green. 
 There grouping herds diversify the scene ; 
 
Now waves voluptuously the pregnant blade, 
 With Boltou's swellini^ woods oi' deeper shade ; 
 While the gay buck, as of his honours vain, 
 Asserts the empire of his native plain; 
 In rank supreme amon^ the brutal race, 
 When sraoaks his haunch, or he inspires the chace. 
 Last in the view, wild surgy mountains lie, 
 That blend their distant summits with the sky. 
 
 But now, O Aysgnrth ! let my rugged verse, 
 The wonders of thy cataracts rehearse. 
 Long ere the toiling sheets to view appear. 
 They sound a prelude to the pausing ear. 
 Now in rough accents by the pendent wood. 
 Roils in stern majesty the foaming flood; 
 Revolting eddies now with raging sway. 
 To Aysgarth's ample arch incline their way. 
 Playful and slow the curling circles move, 
 As when soft breezes fan the waving grove; 
 *Till prone again, with tumult's wildest roar, 
 Recoil the billows, reels the giddy shore ; 
 Dash'd from its rocky bed, the winnow'd spray 
 Remounts the regions of the cloudy way, 
 r 
 
42 WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 While warring columns fiercer combats join, 
 And make the rich, rude, thund'ring scene divine. 
 
 Thus bellows Eure ; so Young-'s seraphic fire 
 Pourtrays the fury of Busiris' ire : 
 " Where fall the sounding cataracts of Nile, 
 " The mountains tremble, and the waters boil, 
 " Like them I rush, like them my fury pour, 
 " And give the future world one wonder more.^ 
 Thus man, the harpy of his own content. 
 With blust'ring passions, phrcusically bent, 
 Wild in the rapid vortex whirls the soul, 
 Till reason bursts, impatient of controul. 
 
 But now the wavy conflict tends to peace. 
 And jarring elements their tumults cease. 
 Placid below, the stream obsequi'ous flows, 
 And silent wonders how fell Discord grows. 
 So the calm mind reviews her tortur'd state, 
 Resuming reason for the cool debate. 
 So lessons Eure : a hapless exile she, 
 Proscrib'd her realm, unleagued witli the sea; 
 
WEN^SLEVDALE. 43 
 
 Not SO the Tiber of imperial Rome, 
 
 Not so the fam'd Scamander's milder doom. 
 
 Fly, Folly, fly, whose inauspicious frown 
 
 In evil hour sedtic'd my Eure's renown. 
 
 The Adriatic faithful clasps her Po, 
 
 The Thames and Shannon's streams securely 
 
 flow; 
 Why then, O Eure, thy natal rights retain ? 
 Why are thy waves forbid to join the main-? 
 Presumption strange! shall drawling" Ouse rebel, 
 That winds her sedgy course from turbid cell ? 
 Shall she usurp the empire of thy flood. 
 And mix with thine, contaminated blood? 
 Forbid it Fates, forbid it all ye train. 
 That guide the streams or rule the briny main. 
 As well might France dispute our naval fame, 
 Or hawks associate with the trembling game ; 
 Sooner Maria's radiance cease to please, 
 Poets grow rich, or Pain accord with Ease; 
 Impartial Justice deal alike their fate. 
 Who sap a country, or who save a state ; 
 Sooner shall social Crowe contract his heart, 
 Or cease a day good humour to impart ; 
 r 2 
 
44 WENSLEYD\LE. 
 
 As soon just Danby shall relinquish sense, 
 Or polisliVi Darlington create offence ; 
 To torteit truth a Camden meanly deig^n, 
 Or science languish in a George's reign ; 
 Sooner shall Virtue prove an empty name ; 
 Thau we the honours of tue Eure disclaim. 
 
 Come then, pure stream, the purest of the 
 throng, 
 Come, and adorn my tributary song. 
 1 repare, ye nymphs, prepare the tepid wave, 
 And let Cleora there securely lave. 
 Be still thou North, be hush'd thou peevish East, 
 Cleora bathes, Cleora torms the least. 
 Let no rude breezes on thy bosom dance. 
 Nor undulations break the smooth expanse. 
 Ye masking willows of the close recess, 
 Be V irtue's guard, and lend the veiling dress. 
 Now looking round she quits her loose attire, 
 The scaly tribes with one accord admire. 
 The conscious stream dividing to embrace, 
 Cliisps tlie coy panting prize in all her grace. 
 
WENSLRYD\LE. « 
 
 Transparent cover'd, how enchanting sTiine 
 The lovely-inodel'd liinb-« of shape diviae! 
 
 As Damon s'eephi^ 'midst the foliao^e lay, 
 Luli'd by the warblers of each hov'ring sjiray, 
 His dreams, the heralds of his future hour, 
 Had ran^'d extatic thro' each Cyprian bow'r. 
 Damon, the blithest lad of rural youth, 
 The spotless transcript of untainted truth, 
 Saw quick approaching from the radiant morn, 
 In azure vest on downy aecher borne, 
 A matchless form; her passion-dartiug eye 
 Eclips'd the brigntness of itaha's sicy, 
 The loves attractive shone in blashes meek. 
 And health high circling mantled in her cueek, 
 Her every step, her attitude and air, 
 InelFable, confess'd the heavenly fair; 
 Near and more near the beauteous for.n advanc'd, 
 Stole on his soul in Pleasure's zenith tranc'd, 
 Till by the genius of the shade appriz'd, 
 He woke, and found the vision realiz'd. 
 
 The fair retires, unconscious of the view. 
 Nor au^ht si>e wish'u, nor augnt oi lOve she knew. 
 
4« WEVSLEYDALE. 
 
 Each pore pervaded, soon a beech he sought, 
 And on its yielding bark essay'd his thought. 
 
 * Go, pensive lines, address the lovely maid, 
 
 * That yonder on the flow'ry turf is laid, 
 
 * Go tell — but. Language, 'tis beyond thy art, 
 
 * To speak the poignant feelings of my heart. 
 
 * Go tell — ah ! Goddess, deign my mind to guess 
 
 * Nor farther urge, in pity, my distress ; 
 
 * Come Love, thou parent soft of hope and fear, 
 ' Thou meek beguiler of the circling year, 
 
 ' That gild'st the desert, animat'st the pole, 
 
 * And spread'st thy potent empire o'er the whole ; 
 ' Come, aid the vent'rous swain success to try, 
 
 * Entreat one warbling boon of Melody.' 
 
 As turns the bark each shifting breeze to save, 
 So ply'd the youth, and these instructions gave. 
 
 ' Haste, envied thrush, that charm'st the ear, 
 
 * Where woodbines fragrant twine, 
 
 * High perch with music's melting air, 
 
 * And votive hail yon shrine. 
 
WENSLEYDALE. 4^ 
 
 * Convey each thought my throbbing breast 
 
 ' Despairingly sustains, 
 
 * Bid sweet Cleora give me rest, 
 
 * And kindly ease my chains. 
 
 ' Compassion to the fair belongs, 
 
 * Thy wooing art employ, 
 
 * Impress her with prevailing songs, 
 
 * Or farewell ev'ry joy. 
 
 * The pilgrim thus, worn down Avith woe, 
 
 * Implores some sacred maid, 
 
 * That she would graciously bestow, 
 
 * Her mediating aid. 
 
 * The pray'r is heard, life springs anew, 
 
 * And hope elates his soul, 
 
 * The toil now less'ning to the view, 
 
 ' He gains the distant goal.' 
 
 Who can describe ? speak, ye compeers in love, 
 Ye lone frequenters of the nodding grove ; 
 Paint, if ye can, how soft persuasion hung 
 On the sweet accents of the minstrel's tongue, 
 
4$ WENSTEYDALE. 
 
 As stands the sailor whe^i in awful hour, 
 The winds tempestuous o'er the ocean pour ; 
 In such suspence remain'd the timid swain, 
 While mute he listen'd to the suppliant strain. 
 Inspir'd at length, himself the fair address'd; 
 The yielding fair approv'd the soft request. 
 
 Should these mild scenes but haply prompt 
 desire, 
 Or gently stir my Strephon's native fire; 
 O ! let him come, and Pan's calm moments share, 
 With faithful friendship's superadded care ; 
 W isely with taste each jocund day prolong. 
 In mental banquet, ever wilUng song; 
 Here woo fair peace, here quit all ardent strife, 
 Deaf to each syren vanity of life ; 
 Happy to catch amusement, and explore 
 - The wond'rous secrets of great Nature's store ; 
 Make this the point where mutual wishes meet, 
 And calmly rest at length our weary feet. 
 
 Anchor' d at Wensley, T no phantoms court. 
 My pastime authors, and my business sport. 
 
WENSL^YDALE. 49 
 
 Not that my fancy starts no cheerful change, 
 
 For to the friendly dome I love to ran^e, 
 
 With heart at ease, of local pleasures share, 
 
 IMix in the group, or saunter with the fair. 
 
 And should some rankling arrow darkling glance. 
 
 Shot by the fool, by envy, or by chance, 
 
 As Atlas firm, unvarying to the end. 
 
 Do thou, my soul, on rectitude depend. 
 
 So shall the pointed steel innoxious fall. 
 
 And virtue rise triumphant over all. 
 
 But shall my Vale alone engage the bard, 
 Nor Ebor's sons, nor Albion's praise be heard ? 
 Rise, Fancy, rise, O nurse the darling theme 1 
 While Truth illumes it with her native beam. 
 And thou, my land, a point amidst the whole, 
 *' Thou little body with a mighty soul, " 
 All hail, Britannia, paragon of isles ! 
 Where learning triumphs, sacred freedom smiles j 
 Where persecution ceases to alarm. 
 Where but the guilty feel thy potent arm. 
 By ocean zon'd, thou canst the world defy, 
 While arts commercial all thy wants supply. 
 
 G- 
 
50 WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 Seek Tve for honour at a source that's clear, 
 In thy fam'd state, behold there bright appear , 
 A Saville firm in each important trust, 
 And princely Lascelles, resolutely just. 
 Nor time abates their warmth of patriot-strife, 
 In senates sound, unstain'd in private life. 
 ** Go, son, " each parent says, " and catch their 
 
 teal, 
 *' Like them, unceasing serve the public weal ; 
 " Like them, indignant spurn each low desire ; 
 ** By their example form thy future fire. 
 *' Too great the soaring task '.--then snatch one ray, 
 " To light thy steps through life's less cultur'd 
 
 way. " 
 
 Should aught of eloquence thy bosom warm, 
 Or Roman diction in the Forum charm. 
 Hear then a Wedderburne the law expound. 
 And mark the list'ning audience rang'd around. 
 Mark too his calm address, his sense refiu'd. 
 The graceful climax and expanded mind; 
 The lucid period with conviction fraught, 
 And language stagger from the force of thought. 
 
WENSLEYDALE. SI 
 
 Possess'd of him, why need we Tully name? 
 Since Wedderburne and Tully are the same. 
 A source himself, where Athens, Latium, shine, 
 And all the charms of elegance combine. 
 
 If soft persuasion, unaffected grace, 
 With love extended o'er the human race ; — 
 If learning, truth, or glowing zeal invite, — 
 See them in candid Ely all unite. 
 See them add lustre to the sacred lawn, 
 Smde on the needy, on the friendless dawn. 
 When merit pines, alert each want to scan. 
 Steps forth the prelate, patron, and the man. 
 
 Yes, Delia, yes, domestic worth is thine, 
 For thee the virtues shall the chaplet twine. 
 On thee the honours of the muse await, 
 Superior pattern in the nuptial state. 
 Now thrice twelve years, unknowing what was 
 
 strife, 
 Jointly we've trod the social path of life ; 
 Progressive seen the human tendrils shoot, 
 Play round the stem, and ripen into fruit. 
 
 G 2 
 
.58 WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 With rapture ey'd the smilini^ g-races grow, 
 And taught the lisping' accents liow to flow ; 
 While of their sportive triumphs we partook, 
 And trac'd prophetic semblance in eacli look. 
 Hail happy times ! nor shall reflection cease. 
 Wisely to live past days of love and peace, 
 When sweetly roving (irst on reason's chart, 
 We mark'd each tender feeling of thq heart. 
 
 Safe in the haven of consoling rest, 
 Wc sip from ev'ry hour nectareous zest } 
 Pluck from the graceful rose its irksome thorn^ 
 And make our ev'ning cheerful as the morn. 
 O grant, benignly grant, ye pow'rs divine ! 
 The solid blessing, long to call thee mine. 
 And when that day, that awful day, shall come, 
 When Pieon skijl no longer waves our doom ; 
 On some kind stone, perchance, the sculptor's art, 
 Slay to the reader these faint words impart : 
 Then may our names, as now our hearts entwine. 
 Be thus remeraber'd in one common line: 
 " Here rest the relics of a nymph aud swaiji, 
 " Who equal shar'd life's pleasure and its pain. ' 
 
WENSLEYDALH. 53 
 
 Beneath yon roof with mantling ivy spread. 
 By peace, by virtue, and coatentment led, 
 There dwells a man, within whose gentle hreast 
 Life's scatter'd blessings permanently rest. 
 Nor fast he thinks time's fleeting moments flow, 
 Nor moves the sliding sand one grain too slow. 
 A partner kind each duteous look displays, 
 While prattling cherubs cheer his roiling days. 
 The scythe's full swath, the sickle's grasp secur'd, 
 And with each comfort of the year iumiur'd: 
 His dog at ease, his cat demurely w ise, 
 His flocks robust, and absent all disguise ; 
 At eve returning from the pregnant field, 
 Blest in whate'er domestic pleasures yield: 
 The faggot brought, produc'd the wholesome fare, 
 He gives to winter's blasts devouring care. 
 As humour prompts him, and his gains prevail, 
 Eager each ear to catph the coming tale, 
 He tells in wontetl strain the day's exploit, 
 And thus with rustic glee contracts the night. 
 The social ev'ning past, Ije rests his heaflj 
 Where friendly slumbers shade his humble bed. 
 
54 WENSLETDALE. 
 
 What though no pomp salutes his op'ning ^y^s. 
 Yet toil, sweet toil, the soothing down su)>jiiies; 
 Early he breathes the salutary hour, 
 Now carols loud, now weaves the shelt'rijg 
 
 bow'r; 
 Approves his lot, however lowly cast. 
 And grateful shares of nature's plain repnst: 
 Nor stoops to know how kings their sceptres wield, 
 A cot his palace, innocence his shield. 
 If bleak the wind, or the world dreary lies. 
 His earnest labour mocks the chilling skies; 
 While timely cares repel invading snows. 
 And the firm heart with double ardour glows. 
 His simple food, the pledge of rosy health, 
 Secures his joy, supplies the want of wealth. 
 Thus circumscrib'd, he nothing more pursues. 
 Nor asks one other good to close his views; 
 Till time the vital fluid slowly stops, 
 And mellow, like autumnal fruit, he drops. 
 
 Perish the meanness of exulting pride. 
 That idly would such bounded aims deride. 
 Let Folly shout, let Vanity assume 
 Her pert grimace, her ever-nodding plume; 
 
, WENSLEYDALE. * 55 
 
 Let Dissipation and her giddy train, 
 
 The gaudy meteors of a sickly brain, 
 
 On Wings of Icarus disporting fly, 
 
 Till, victims in the gay pursuit, they die. 
 
 He then whose heart such scenes as these can 
 
 move, 
 Still may he lead the peaceful life I love; 
 Still, undisturb'd, the grateful state enjoy. 
 Where changeful ease and business never cloy ; 
 A fertile farm, a household debonair. 
 From debt exempt, nor plagu'd with sordid care; 
 The bearded field, the udder-swelling plain, 
 Some fleecy bleaters, and a fit domain 
 For winter's forage; if the glebe be cold, 
 Manure to warm it from the teeming fold ; 
 While, by such care, with glowing heart he spies 
 A new creation fiom his labours rise: 
 Brown ale, to gain kind Hodge's scraping thanks; 
 For friends, the ruddy stream from Douro's 
 
 banks ; 
 A few good steeds to work, or ride for air. 
 Or sometimes gently draw the tender tair: 
 The cordial visit and the dry-wood flame, 
 Associates lively, and the courteous dame. 
 
66 ' WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 To rear the honours of connubial love, 
 While softness joins each lesson to improve. 
 These, these are mine ; nor want my wishes still 
 Stores in reserve, the subjects of my will. 
 Around ray barn the pamper'd pullets fly, 
 And crowded streams the finny race supply ; 
 Contiguous meads the titled loin afford, 
 And willing servants tend my vail-less board. 
 Should the laps'd hour an instant dish demand; 
 Or casual guest quick urge tliepractis'd hand, 
 Suspended high, the ready flitch descends. 
 And the warm egg, luxurious feast ! attends. 
 Pomona's gifts in fair succession flow, 
 Freely my bees the luscious balm bestow, 
 While Flora gayly smiling tempts my lay, 
 And friendly converse crowns the festive day. 
 In home-rais'd pleasures thus, devoid of strife^ 
 Softly in social ease glides rural life. 
 
 But still if gratitude no tribute brings, 
 Nor piety to heav'n its rapture wings ; — 
 If truth's strong cement should e'er cease to bind. 
 Nor wisdom's precepts occupy the mind;— 
 
^ 
 
 WENSLEYDALE. 57 
 
 Still if within no yielding state of soul 
 Receives the soft impression of the whole,^ — 
 Earth's richest produce unadmir'd will rise, 
 Unheard the warbling lark will mount the skies ; 
 In vain the the soothing murmurs of the rills, 
 In vain the lowings echo'd from the hills; 
 The muse will fruitless sound the pleasing strain, 
 And ev'ry hope of solid joy prove vain. 
 
 H 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 Arise, my Muse, fair Wcnslcy 's vale display. — Page 9. 
 
 Wensleydale is situated in the division of 
 Hang West, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, 
 and takes its name from Wensley, a pleasant 
 village in the vale. This dale may be considered, 
 both for extent and fertility, as the first in the 
 riding. The bottom of it is chiefly rich grazing 
 land, through which the river Eure takes a 
 winding and circuitous course, forming in many 
 places very beautiful cascades. From the bottom, 
 the hills rise on both sides with a gentle slope to 
 an amazing height, interspersed with indosures 
 
62 NOTES. 
 
 beautifiilly wooded^ for nearly two milos from tlie 
 river. The soil orj the banks of the river is a rich 
 loamy gravel; and on the sides of the hills, in 
 ereneral a g'ood lean), but rather strong, and is 
 niostjy upon a substratum of limestone. 
 
 Almost every emir^ence on each side of this 
 enchanting* and deiL-jhtful vale, points out new 
 beauties; and in a country abounding with those 
 nsajesilc irregularities of nature, none of them, 
 from their great variety, ever satiate the eye. 
 These commaudiiig elevations, en the north and 
 south sides of it, run parallel for the space of many 
 miles; presenting views, whicli cannot fail to fill 
 the spectator with wonder and delight. 
 
 ^ Mr. ]\Iaudc, in comparing tlie two picturesque 
 vales of Wharfdale and Wensleydale, makes the 
 following observatioiis. 
 
 '' In extent they are nearly equal. In the iirst 
 you have more art, because property is more 
 divided; in the last, superior nature prevails in 
 the great lineaments of her character. Tiie 
 Wharfe flows with more copiousness, and by 
 filling its banks, continues longer to satisfy the 
 eye; the Eure frolics in its course, amuses with 
 islands and cataracts, yet rambles more coii- 
 cealed, because "its banks are more wooded: but 
 
 # 
 
NOTES. 6S 
 
 both are alike the sportsman's delight. In qua- 
 lity of land, as well as roads, the competition 
 may be balanced." 
 
 " With regard to scenery, Wharfdaie may 
 be pronounced more brilliant and picturesque, 
 Wensleydale more venerable and romantic, being 
 decorated with ancient ruins and cataracts. If 
 the former pleads the advantages of proximity to 
 trade, the consumption of produce, with every 
 convenience at hand ; the latter can boast of her 
 minerals, more tranquillity with sportive amuse- 
 ments, and perhaps a greater exemption from 
 vice and also from expence in the articles of life. 
 If a Zucarelli claimed Wharfdaie as the subject 
 of his pencil, as more elegant ; a Poussin would 
 seize upon Wensleydale as the object of his genius, 
 because more sublime." 
 
 " But the frame of the piece as we may call 
 the marginal mountains, must be decisively 
 allotted to Wensleydale, as they are so adapted by 
 their level surface to either walking or equestrian 
 exercise. In a few words, I make Wharfdaie 
 my Venus, and Wensleydale my Juno ; but own 
 them both divine. If the one hath more beauty, 
 the other hath more dignity ; but were the British 
 Apelles to draw a figure complete, he would 
 
 % 
 
64 NOTES. 
 
 undoubtedly borrow features from both. But is 
 the competition still decided ? For the author's 
 part, he freely owns himself incompetent to the 
 choice, wavering to delej^ate the prize, and at last 
 finds that divided taste, like two parallel lines, does 
 not sensibly approximate towards a preference, 
 thinking each the favourite by turns, when imme- 
 diately under inspection. But happy and grate- 
 ful is he, who has it in his power to enjoy this 
 refined and innocent polygamy." 
 
 " If general society be annexed to the ideas of 
 rural life, the Wharfe will mostly captivate ; if a 
 more sequestered participation of its joys be the 
 desired object, the Eure must then prevail. Td 
 pursue the controversy, and bring it to a more 
 delicate discrimination, we find that even the 
 touchstone of sepulture will not determine; for 
 if I was to carry a wish to the grave, my heart 
 should mix with either of the soils where it at 
 last ceased to move." 
 
 As the following account, written by Mr. 
 Maude, was founded on a real event, and Wharfe- 
 dale gave birth to one of the parties, we insert it 
 in this place. The scene lay in the province of 
 New York. 1778. 
 
NOTES. OS 
 
 And here let genuine story weave her tale, 
 A plaintive tribute to the injur'd vale. 
 
 A virgin beautiful and gay, 
 
 A frequent guest was seen, 
 Where wounded sore by contest, lay 
 
 A youth of gallant mien. 
 
 iHis limbs, so active once, a load 
 
 Of piercing anguish bore ; 
 And paleness blanch'd his cheeks, that glow'd 
 
 With ruddy health before. 
 
 To sooth with smiles the damsel strove, 
 
 And cheerful chat his smart , 
 Till child of gentle pity, love. 
 
 Had softly seiz'd her heart. 
 
 Then Oh ! she left, with him to stay, 
 
 Soft pleasure's sportive train ; 
 By swains to sprightly dance op play, 
 
 Solicited in vain. 
 
 His faded face, his feeble frame, 
 
 With fondness she survey 'd; 
 While modest sense conceal'd the flame; 
 
 That on her bosom prey'd. 
 
 A close attendant near his bed, 
 
 On ev'ry look she hung. 
 And all his wishes heedful read. 
 
 Or ere they met his tongue. 
 
 To him she brought the healing balm. 
 
 His anguish to assuage ; 
 For him she pour'd the draught, to eald 
 
 The burnins fever's rage. 
 I 
 
i&B NOTES. 
 
 Oft to his ruffled inind, repos* 
 Her sweet persuasion gave; 
 
 And ofl tohea-v'n her vows arose, 
 His dubious life to save. 
 
 But when at last n cure was wrought, 
 By means her ca'e applied, 
 
 The youth restor'd his country sought, 
 The maid forsaken died. 
 
 Adieu thou tender bud of spring, 
 Thou purest type above; 
 
 May this thy fate instruction bring, 
 Salubrious hence to love. 
 
 Note 11. 
 
 The bird with human laugh, the cawing rook. — Page 27. 
 
 The woodpecker, no less distin^uish'd by the 
 cheerful peculiarity of his tone, and beautiful 
 plumage, than by the striking^ fitness of his 
 orii-ans for procurini^' food; so as to be the admi- 
 red object of most naturalists who mention him. 
 
 3Ir. Maude. 
 
 Note III. 
 
 Full then to sight from Spenithorne the gay. — Page 27. 
 
 Spenithorn is a pleasant village about one 
 mile north-east of Mic^tjileham, and two miles and 
 a half soutli-east of Leyburn; in which are 
 d'li^htiully situated the seats of Wm. Chaytor, 
 Esq. and Col. Straubeazie, the only acting 
 magistrates in this dale. 
 
NOTES. «r 
 
 In this villac^e was born and baptised, on the 
 24tli of October, 1675, tiie ^reat Hebraist John 
 Hutchinson, well known in the literary world, 
 and whose strenuous and particular way of think- 
 ing, relative to the principUs of the Mosaic His- 
 tory, has attracted many disciples, and established 
 him the founder of a sect. His life is written by 
 Robert Spearman, Est^. 
 
 There is an anecdote in the life of this person, 
 which though it may carry with it some appearance 
 of levity to relate, we hope to stand excused in 
 that point from its singularity. This author 
 being visited by Dr. Mead, that learned and 
 humane physician, in order to give his patient 
 some flattering hopes of recovery, told him with a 
 smile, that he would soon send him to his Moses; 
 meaning that he would enable him to pursue the 
 subject upon which Hutchinson was then writing. 
 The sick man, tenacious oi lile, imagining the 
 the Doctor meant the bosom of Moses, was so 
 irritated at tlie expression, that he dismissed the 
 Doctor, and never saw him afterwards. 
 
 According to this author's cabalistical notions, 
 the root of all languages aud of all science was 
 to be found in the Hebrew tongue and the sacred 
 Writings. Thus, agreeable to his doctrine, it 
 would follow, that the earth must be of a cubical 
 form, because the scripture mentions the four 
 corners of the earth, N either are wanting those 
 I 2 
 
 I 
 
\ 
 
 88 NOTES, 
 
 who believe that the resurrection will happen iu 
 the Valley of Jehoshaphatnear Jerusalem, as it 
 is deemed by the ignorant Turks to be the middle 
 of the earth, and consequently most convenient 
 for the final assembly; not considering that 
 every exterior point of a sphere is centrical with 
 respect to surface, nor recollecting that Omni- 
 potence is not confined to relative distance or 
 mensuration, about where the dead shall rise. 
 
 Hutchinson had a good heart and no incom- 
 petent head ; but left the obvious road of inter- 
 pretation, to seek bye- paths, that he might be 
 more ingeniously in the wrong. There was a 
 shade in this person's character, from which 
 perhaps, in some degree, few authors are ex- 
 empted. It seems to be emplantedin human nature, 
 for the wise purpose of not suffering our minds 
 to stagnate, and of exciting us to laudable pur- 
 suits; I mean the foible, vanity: but when it 
 breaks forth in oral expression, it becomes less 
 excusable. Such was the case before us ; for 
 when Hutchinson was passing by the humble 
 house of his nativity, after an absence of years, 
 and haying acquired some fame, he pointed to 
 the tenement, and bade his friend take notice of 
 the place, as it might become the subject of much 
 enquiry and veneration, Mr. BJaude. 
 
 Hutchinson served the Duke of Somerset in 
 the capacity of steward j and in the course of his 
 
NOTES. 69 
 
 travels from place to place employed himself in 
 collecting fossils : we are told that the large and 
 noble collection bequeathed by Dr. Woodward 
 to the university of Cambridge was actually made 
 by him, and even unfairly obtained from him. 
 When he left the duke's service to indulge his 
 studies with more freedom, the duke, then master 
 of the horse to George I., made him his riding 
 surveyor, a kind of sinecure place of ,£200 a 
 year with a good house in the Meuse. In 1724 
 he published the first part of Moses's PrincijAaf 
 in which he ridiculed Dr. Woodward's Natural 
 History of the Earth, and exploded the doctrine 
 of gravitation established in Newton's Principia: 
 in 1727 he published the second part of Moses's 
 Principia, containing the principles of the Scrip- 
 ture Philosophy. From this time to his death, 
 he published a volume every year or two, which, 
 with the MSS. he left behind, were published in 
 1748, in 12 vols. 8vo. 
 
 The following extract from Bellamy's History 
 of all Religions will give some idea of the prin- 
 ciples of Hutchinson's philosophy, to those 
 unacquainted with his works. 
 
 " Hutchinson was received as an ingenious 
 biblical philosopher, which philosophy he attemp- 
 ted to prove in a work he wrote, intitled Moses's 
 Principia. He is much followed by Parkhurst, 
 who says, speaking of the word Heaven, * This 
 
70 NOTFS. 
 
 is a descriptive name of the Heavens, or of that 
 immense celestial fluid subsisting in the three 
 conditions oi Jire, liyht, and spirit, which fills 
 every part of the universe. He maintained that 
 this name, Hearen, was first given by God to the 
 celestial fluid, or air, when it began to act in 
 dispersing and arranging the earth and water; 
 that it has been the great agent in disposing all 
 material things in their places and orders, and 
 thereby producing all those great and wonderful 
 effects which are attributed to it in the scriptures, 
 and which of late years it hath been the fashioik 
 to ascribe to attraction and gravity.'''' 
 
 The reader may find a disthict and comprehen- 
 sive account of the llutchinsonian system in a 
 book entitled, Thoughts concerning Religii n, fSfC. 
 printed at Edinburgh, 1743; and in a letter to a. 
 
 bishop, annexed to it, first printed in 1733. Ed. 
 
 > 
 
 Sir Ralph Fitz Randal, Lord of the Manor 
 of Middleham (Reg. Hen. V 111.) had a mansion, 
 now almost in obliterated ruins, at the east end 
 of Spenithorn; the small remains of which, 
 except the vestige of a wreck contiguous to the 
 high-road, are converted nito a farm-hou e. 
 
 Mr. Maude, 
 
NOTES. 71 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 Stands high placed Middleham, marh'd with martial scars. 
 
 Page ^7. 
 
 The Town of Middleham is situated on a 
 gentle rising ground, about a short half-mile from 
 the south bank of the river Eure, in the Wapen- 
 take of Hangwest, in that part of the North 
 Riding of Yorkshire called Richmondshire, in 
 the deanery of Catterick, and in Domesday is 
 called Medelai. The market is on Monday, and 
 it has fairs on the 5th and 6th of November for 
 horned cattle and sheep. 
 
 Ribald or Robert, Lord of Middleham, was a 
 younger brother of Alan Rufus, or the red. Earl 
 of Riclimond, and the first Lord of Middleham 
 after the conquest of England; to whom the said 
 Alan (who died without issue A. D. 1089) gave 
 the manor and honor of Middieham with the 
 appurtenances, and many other lands, which 
 before the conquest belonged to Chilpatrick, a 
 Dane, in the time of the Confessor. Robert, the 
 son of Ralph, and grandson of Ribald, built the 
 castle of Middleham; to whom Conan Earl of 
 Brittany, or Bretagne, gave Wensleydale, or 
 Wenslydale, Wendesleydale, Wendeslaydale, or 
 Wenslaydale, with common of pasture. The 
 descendants of Ribald enjoyed a fair fortune here, 
 till issue male failed in Ralph the second, the third 
 son ot Robert who built the castle, and died 
 
« NOTES. 
 
 54 Hen. III. 1270. It is said his estates were 
 divided between his three daughters; of whom 
 Mary the eldest, who was then married to Robert 
 de Neville, son of the Lord of Raby in the 
 county of Durham, had this honour and castle 
 for her share. Afterwards the castle being in the 
 hands of Hen. VI. by the forfeiture of Richard 
 Neville, Earl of Salisbury; and Sir John Neville, 
 uncle to Ralph Earl of Westmorland, who died 
 without issue, being found heir to his honour and 
 estate, and adhering to that King in his disputes 
 with the house of York, was made constable of it 
 for life. Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, on 
 the 26th of July, 1469, after the battle of Edge- 
 cote Field, otherwise called Banbury Field, 
 which was fought in a plain called Danesmoor, 
 near the town of Edgecote and three miles from 
 Banbury, having taken King Edward IV. in his 
 camp at Ulney, a village beside Northampton ; 
 by the Archbishop of York, brother to Warwick, 
 the King was brought prisoner to Warwick castle, 
 and thence to York: he was also prisoner at 
 Middleham, whence he escaped (as it is said, from 
 a hunting party) and came to London. But 
 it has been discovered from the Fcedera, that 
 Edward IV. while said universally to be prisoner 
 to Abp. Neville, was at full liberty and doing acts 
 of regal power. 
 
 By the death of the Earl of Warwick at the 
 battle of Barnet, all his lands became forfeited, 
 
NOTES. T» 
 
 ns were also those of John de Neville, Marquis of 
 IMontac^iie, his brother: among which last was 
 this lordship, which by act of parliament, 11 Edw. 
 IV. was settled, with other their estates, upoji 
 Richard Duke of York, that king's brother, to 
 hold to him and the heirs of his body laAvfully 
 begotten. 
 
 The castle of Middleham stands on the south 
 side of the town, and Avas formerly moated round 
 by the help of a spring conveyed in pipes from the 
 higher ground, although on the north and Avest 
 sides no traces of a ditch appear ; but an old Avail 
 subsisted Avithin memory, that had been erected 
 as a safeguard from the moat on the side next 
 the toAvn, for the prevention of accidents. Leland 
 says, it Avas in his time (about 270 years ago) the 
 fairest castle in Richmondshire, except Bolton : 
 but in this remark, that author could only mean in 
 respect to the wear and preservation of Bolton, 
 since in point of magnitude, the former had emi- 
 nently the advantage. It does not occur to my 
 reading, that Middleham Avas ever besieged by 
 the parliamentary force, though common report of 
 the place alloAVs it. In the remains, Ave trace more 
 the ruin of decay and demolition for the purposes 
 of sale and use, than military destruction. 
 
 The place Avas much favoured by Edward IV. 
 and his brother the Duke of Gloucester, after- 
 Avards Richard III. whose only son, EdAvard, Avas 
 
 K 
 
a JfOTES. 
 
 born in this castle, A. D. 1473. About a quarter 
 of a mile south of the castle, is an artificial mount 
 of a considerable heii^ht, designed for a place of 
 strength, and the highest fortification or keep 
 thereof is made in the form of a horse-fetter, which 
 was the device of the family of York, like that of 
 Fotheringhay in Northamptonshire; and between 
 thismount and the castle is a remarkably loud and 
 distinct echo. 
 
 Middleham having grown into tlie favour of the 
 house of York, Richard, then Duke of Glouces- 
 ter, intended to found a college at this place? 
 which was to consist of a dean, six chaplains, and 
 four clerks, also six choristers and one other 
 clerk. For this purpose he obtained 'from his 
 brother Edward IV. a licence, hearing date, 21 
 Feb. 17 Edw. IV. Thomas Rotheram, Abp. of 
 Y ork, in the second year of his translation, and 
 24 March, 1481, exempts the dean, the church, 
 and the inhabitants, from all archiepiscopal 
 jurisdiction. In 1482, John Sherwin, Arch- 
 deacon of Richmond, exempts the church of 
 Middleham from all archideaconal, episcopal, 
 ordinary, and other ecclesiastical jurisdiction 
 whatever, reserving five siiillings sterling out of 
 the profits of the church of Middleham. On 12 
 April, 1482, Robert Oolhe, dean and chapter of 
 York, confirm the exemption made by the Arch- 
 bishop; and in April, 1483, they confirm the 
 exemption made by the Archdeacon of Richmond* 
 
NOTES. T5 
 
 Notwithstanding: these steps taken for the 
 privileges of the intended college, yet before 
 any buildings were erected, or provisions made 
 foi: the support of the chaplains or choir, Richard 
 left the work imperfect, being prevented by the 
 troubles in which he was involved, or by death; 
 but there is a field which still retains the name of 
 College Close, near the river Eure, in which 
 probably the pile was to have been erected. 
 
 However the incumbent still retained the name 
 of dean ; who being exempt from the ordinary 
 jurisdiction of his diocesan, as a royal peculiar, 
 exercised divers privileges and ecclesiastical 
 jurisdiction within the bounds of his parish, as 
 marrying people living in it, or any other parish, 
 without a licence or publication of banns : although 
 in the year 1736, and in the year 1730, a warm 
 persecution was carried on against Luke Cotes, 
 then dean of Middleham, for marrying a couple 
 without publication of banns or a licence first had, 
 grounded on the statute of the 10th of Anne, ch, 
 19, s. 176, for the penalty of of 100, given by that 
 statute. But upon producing the before-mentioned 
 (;harters and other proofs, the defendant Cotes in 
 both actions bad a verdict, and the dean of Mid- 
 dleham, for the time being, afterwards enjoyed the 
 same privilege, till iinaiiy abrogated by the 
 marriage act, 26 Geo. li. The freeholders 
 never answered to any court but to the dean's. 
 Ffobate of wills is said to have been granted by 
 K 2 
 
76 NOTES. 
 
 the deans, ^vho never married witli licences, nor 
 granted any. 
 
 The following was taken from the parish church 
 at Middleham. 
 
 Sir Hcnrie Linley, that Avorthie kniglit of 
 Middleham Castle, buried 8th of November, 1609. 
 
 Ladie Feronoma Linley, buried 1st of August, 
 1610. 
 
 Sir Edward lioftus and Mrs. Jane Linley, 
 married 28th of February, 1639. 
 
 Arthur, son of the Right Hon. Lord Loftus, 
 baptized 18th of June, 1644. Mr. Maude, 
 
 In the 37th year of the reign of Henry VI. 
 this castle belonged to the Earl of Salisbury, who 
 in that year collected 4000 men, and marched 
 from hence to Lancashire, in his way to London, 
 in order to demand redress of the king', for injuries 
 done to his son by the queen and her council 
 Here also, according to Stowe, the bastari 
 Falconbridge was beheaded, in 1471, although In 
 had received the royal pardon; he was brough 
 hither from Southampton, where he had beei 
 seized by Richard Duke of Gloucester; hi; 
 head was sent to London, and placed upon tb 
 bridge. 
 
 From the reign of Richard to the present time 
 Middleham Castle is rarely, if ever, mentioned i 
 historv, T n,UryA jnrloofl in his Itinerary describ^^ 
 
NOTES. TT 
 
 its state in his time; " Middlehara Castel (says 
 he) joyneth harde to the town side, and is the 
 fairest castel in Richmontshire next Bolton, and 
 the castel hath a parke by it called Sonske, and 
 another caullid West Parke, andGaunlessebewell 
 wodded." Again, " Middlehara is a praty 
 market-town, and standith on a rocky hille, on 
 the top whereof is the castel meately well diked," 
 
 " Al the utter part of the castelle was of the very 
 new setting of the Lord Neville, called Darabi, 
 the inner part of Middleham castel was of an 
 auncient building of the Fitz Randolph." 
 
 " There be 4 or 5 parkes about Middleham, 
 and longing to it, whereof som be reasonable 
 wodyed." 
 
 This castle is also mentioned in an ancient 
 comedy, called George-a- Green: it is said to 
 have been written by John Heyard, about the 
 year 1599, and supposed to have been founded on 
 historical facts, or some ancient tradition. 
 
 In this play King Edward is made to bestow 
 the castle on an old man, called William Mus- 
 grove : the story is as follows. The Earl of 
 Kendal having excited a rebellion, in which he 
 is favoured by an incursion of the Scots, under 
 their King James, the Scots are vanquished with 
 great slaughter, and their king taken by ol 
 
IB NOTES. 
 
 Musgrove, uho is represented as an old man of 
 103 years of ag^p, and having been the scourge 
 and terror of that nation. The scene is laid about 
 Wakefield and Bradford. After the victory 
 Mus^Tove is introduced to King Edward, when 
 the following dialogue ensues. 
 
 Edm. Ah! old Mu.«groTe, stand up, 
 It fits Hot such grey hairs to kneel. 
 
 3Ihs. Long live my sovereign, 
 Long and happie be his days ! 
 VoiichKaie, my graeious lord, a simple gift, 
 At Billy Musgrove*s hand. 
 King Jiimes at Middleom Castle gave ine this. 
 This Monne the honour, and this give I thee. 
 
 EdW' GodanuTcie, Musgrove, for this friendly gift. 
 And for thou fellest a king with this same weapon. 
 This blade shall here dub Taliant Musgrove kniglit. 
 
 3Ius. Alas ! what hath your highness done ! I am poor. 
 
 Edw. To mend thy living, take thou Middleom Castle, 
 The hold of both; and if Ihou want living, comijlain. 
 Thou shalt have more to maintain thine estate. 
 
 It is certain, that about this time the castle was 
 the property of Richard Duke of Gloucester, but 
 Musgrove being 103 years of age, would not, in 
 all probability, hold it above a year or two, after 
 which it might be granted to Richard. 
 
 All that can be further said on this place, with 
 any degree of certainty, is that it was inhabited 
 so late as the year 1609, by Sir Henry Linley, 
 knt. ; after his decease, an appraisement of his 
 goods was taken, on the 3d of January, 1610 : 
 
NOTES. 79 
 
 the inventory was in 1781 in the hands of the then 
 Dean of Middleliam : and th-it in the 2-2nd of 
 Charles I, it was ordered by the Committee at 
 York, to be made untenantable, as being of no 
 further use as a garrison. 
 
 Thus neglected, purloining avarice destroyed 
 a noble monument of art, once the habitation of 
 kings and princes ; which from the strength of its 
 walls, and its massy fragments, seems to have 
 been eifccted by no less a force than the explosion 
 of gunpowder. 
 
 The small remains of this once magnificent 
 castle, stand on the south side of the town : it 
 consists of an envelope or out-work, fortified 
 with four towers, enclosing a body or keep. This 
 envelope is in figure a right-angled parallelogram, 
 of 210 feet by 175; its greatest length running 
 north and south, and each of its sides forming 
 one of the cardinal points of the compass. It has 
 four towers of different magnitudes, one at each 
 angle ; and at the extremity of the south-western 
 there is an addition of a round one. Great part 
 of the east side of this building is fallen down ; 
 within this, in the centre, stands the keep, or 
 what were the state appartments ; the outer part 
 being commonly allotted for servants' lodgings, 
 stables, and oflices. This building, which is 
 much higher than the envelope, is of a shape 
 similar to It, except that besides a kind of turret 
 
80 NOTES. 
 
 at each angle, there are two others at its side, 
 one on the south, and another on the east : the 
 first is a small one, and placed near its centre ; 
 the other, much larger, joins to the turret on 
 the south cast angle ; it is about ten or twelve 
 feet higher than the adjoining wall, which mea- 
 sures about fifty five feet, and was probably, when 
 entire, some feet hiarher. 
 
 The main building is unequally divided by a 
 wall, which runs from north to south. Here still 
 remain the broken stairs, which the boys, in their 
 pastime, frequently ascend, to frolic on the top 
 of the cuius, an exercise attended with danger- 
 A few years ago, says Mr. Grose, a cow, of 
 genius we suppose, (pardon, gentle reader, a 
 moment's trespass on the dignity of history) led 
 by the allurement of ivy, or some such botan- 
 ical idea, or excited by the love of a prospect or 
 antiquity, elevated herself to a situation, which 
 however she might approve, was no ways conge- 
 nial with the taste or ambition of her incurious 
 master. A council being held, how to avert the 
 imminent danger to which she stood exposed, it 
 was resolved at last to leave the means of retreat 
 to her own judgement; which she accordingly 
 performed, to the no small amusement of the won- 
 dering croud. 
 
 The extent and variety of these ruins, as you 
 approach them from the moor, westward, a 
 
NOTES. 6 J 
 
 tk. multiplicity of rugged towers and lofty fissured 
 walls appear, which cannot fail presenting the 
 observer, a pleasing picture of its majestic decay. 
 But of all the views, that of the south-west has 
 greatly the advantage, from its being laid more 
 open by the injuries of time; hence the internal 
 ruins are less eclipsed, which figure in the pro- 
 spect, and exhibit many singular and fiintastic 
 forms. Here the cumbrous mass, suspended on 
 a tottering base, seems ready every moment to be 
 levelled with the ground : the disjointed stone, 
 the deserted pillar, and the almost floating arch, 
 present themselves ; whilst the stunted shrub, the 
 pining moss, and the veiling ivy, join in the group, 
 to display every species of ruin, and to mourn the 
 general wreck, which time has made. But let us 
 reverse the scene to the more pleasing part of its 
 situation. 
 
 If the castle of Bolton affords a more particular* 
 view of the western and middle part of Weusley- 
 dale, that of Middleham has the superior advan- 
 tage of more distinctly commanding the woods, 
 the finely scattered villages, and the mazy progress 
 of the Eure, through the spacious meads on the 
 eastern part of the vale ; whilst the sight, stretch- 
 ing over the great plain of Mowbray (including 
 the country about Bedale, Northallerton, and 
 Thirsk) loses itself among the hills of CIevelan<lj 
 bordering on the eastern sea. 
 
83 NOTES. 
 
 To view the internal part of this castle as a 
 picture, we can seldom find exhibited in a sinejle 
 piece, so diversified a ruin. It is here that the 
 destructive hand of time apparently exercises its 
 power in sportive mood ; and if we judge from the 
 lineaments left of the multifarious group, a doubt 
 might arise upon the memorable, but now deserted 
 stage, of human actions, whether light or serious 
 description should claim its remains. The fan- 
 tastic forms into which these ruins are cast, the 
 mimic echo of its walls, and the festivity which 
 once tenanted the dome, seem to declare for the 
 first ; but if in these our contemplations we have 
 recourse to history, and the desolation before us, 
 the point is soon determined. This once haughty 
 pile then becomes a striking monument of worldly 
 instability; and its now shattered frame, the 
 tragic mourner of its past lofty and deluded 
 inhabitants. 
 
 On a review of these structures, the purposes 
 of their foundation, and the times in which they 
 were erected, every reflecting man must congrat- 
 ulate himself on the happiness of his fate, in living 
 at a period when the fierceness and frequency of 
 intestine wars no longer scourge this favoured 
 land, nor make such constructions necessary; 
 when the laws of Government, and the rights of 
 humanity, are more securely established and more 
 critically understood; when even the privileges 
 of a modern peasant would be injured by a com- 
 
NOTES. 8S 
 
 parison with those possessed by the chieftains 
 of ancient clays. 
 
 Military mansions of celebrated men in ruins, 
 may be deemed, perhaps, more the mirrors of 
 mortality, than those of the monastic class. The 
 latter may command more reverence, but the 
 other will convey, probably, more instruction. 
 The ascent to fame is there shewn to be not less 
 arduous than painful; and when the precipice is 
 gained, the ground on which we stand is often 
 found too narrow, or the height too dangerous* 
 to explore it in safety. The historic page of those 
 we now allude to, the Nevilles in particular, may 
 tend to confirm these remarks. We there see the 
 gallant, turbulent Warwick, half frantic with 
 power and popularity, in the full career of fame 
 or success, holding the balance even of royal 
 contentions. We view him great in alliance, 
 formidable in fortune, brave in the field, noble in 
 the senate, and almost the sole bestower of the 
 British diadem. One step further, and we view 
 his two surviving daughters the meed of princes, 
 the most consummate beauties, and the richest 
 heiresses of their days! a palace also, under 
 whose roof not only a lengthened line of high- 
 derived proprietors, but even presumptive royalty, 
 were born, and a captive king had dwelling. But 
 alas, behold the sum of all ! behold the dismantled 
 state of this his bulwark, once committed by the 
 founder to his heirs for ever ! the very site and 
 L 3 
 
84 NOTES. 
 
 perishing materials of which are now ahnost 
 become a dubious property. Let towering' ambi- 
 tion humble herself then at this school ! let tyranny, 
 rapine, and licentiousness, stand admonished, 
 however shielded ; but may legal liberty and the 
 rights of humanity, flourish while time exists! 
 
 Reluctant and heroic to the last, even in a 
 conquered state, these ruins seem to frown 
 resentment at every injury offered by time, with 
 no ally to stretch forth the saving hand, but that 
 of the antiquary. 
 
 Who props the sinking pile, renews its sway, 
 Lives o'er the past, and joins the future day ; 
 Thus from oblivion wrests the hoary name, 
 And on a nodding ruin builds his fame. 
 
 The above account of Middleham Castle was written by Mr, 
 Maude, and communicated to Mr. Grose, from whose works it 
 was extracted : it was not inserted in the former editions of this 
 Poem. 
 
 The following descriptive and historical account 
 of Jerveaux Abbey, sent by C Claridge, Esq. 
 though not connected with the Poem, is however 
 inserted by the Editor, as it may afford instruc- 
 tion or amusement to the visitor of its ruins. 
 
 About six miles from Masham, at the entrance 
 of the valley leading to Wensleydale, stands the 
 
NOTES. 85 
 
 ancient Abbey of Yorevale, Joarvaille, or Jore- 
 vaux, upon the estate of the Earl of Ailesbury. 
 
 In the reign of Stephen, Akariiis son of Bar- 
 dolph, who had great possessions in the county 
 of York, gave to a monk called Peter Quintian, 
 a man skilled and experienced in the art of physic, 
 and to other Monks of Savigny, a certain part of 
 his lands situated in Wensleydale; where iif 1 145 
 they founded a monastery, which was successively 
 called the Abbey of Fors, Wensleydale, and 
 Charity, For what reason Peter and his associ- 
 ates came to reside in England, is not stated: 
 unless, as it is believed, they resided in tlie 
 mansion or castle of the Earl of Richmond, under 
 pretence of curing diseases and healing wounds; 
 or that they might collect the alms oi" tbeir 
 order, or distribute their charitable contribu- 
 tions to the poor ; however the donations, winch 
 Akarius and others made to them, Earl Alan 
 confirmed by his charter, Avitnessed by Conan the 
 archdeacon, wherein he confirms the donations 
 given to them by Akarius, for the souls of his 
 father and mother, and for the souls of his ances- 
 tors. He also granted them by the same charter, 
 the commonage of his pastures in Wensleydale, 
 whatever they may be worth. 
 
 In another charter he confirms the grants made 
 in the first, and as a further encouragement, he 
 gives them as much pasture and meadow land as 
 
86 NOTEg. 
 
 they may want, in the forest of Wensleydale, 
 and as much timber as they please out of the 
 forest, for the use of building ; and if they should 
 discover any mines of lead or iron, they were 
 allowed to work them for their own use; and to 
 have all game that was bitten by the wolves in the 
 same district. 
 
 Soon after the granting of this charter, Alan 
 Fequested Peter to inform him, when they intended 
 to commence their building, as it was his wish to 
 lay the first stone. At the time appointed, the 
 Earl, with a number of his retainers, attended at 
 Fors, for the purpose ; when coming to the place, 
 where the building was to be erected, he pleasantly 
 observed to his followers, that they all had great 
 landed property, and hoped they would assist in 
 building a house to the Lord. To which sugges- 
 tion, it is said, some consented without hesitation, 
 and others refused to comply with his wishes, 
 unless on certain conditions. Thus, in the year 
 1145, they began their building: a temporary 
 oratory of wood was erected, for the use of the 
 monks, till the abbey should be fiinished. 
 
 Roger de Mowbray, having heard that certain 
 monks of Savigny had begun to build an abbey 
 on the banks of the river Eure, and being anxious 
 to be a partaker of their prayers, with great 
 devotion and liberality, gave to Peter and his 
 associates all the wood, through which the road 
 
NOTES. 8T 
 
 rims from Brij^wath as far as Witebercuade; 
 tlieri^ht of fishinj^ in Ilii^lamare; and the warren 
 and pasture of all his forest: which grant was 
 witnessed by Roger, Abbot of Bellaland or 
 Byland. 
 
 Not Idng after these donations, Earl Alan went 
 to Bretagne, and acquainted the abbot of Savigny, 
 that Peter and other monks had begun to build 
 an abbey on his demesne, not far from his castle of 
 Richmond in England, which he presented to 
 the abbot. Serlo, the abbot, very unwillingly 
 accepted this donation ; for he disapproved of the 
 foundation, as made without his knowledge and 
 consent; neither did he choose, though repeatedly 
 solicited by Peter, to supply it with monks from 
 his convent, on account of the great difficulties 
 experienced by those, whom he had before sent 
 over into England. He, therefore, in a general 
 chapter, proposed that it should be transferred to 
 the Abbey of Belland in Yorksliire; which from 
 its vicinity, would be better able to lend the 
 necessary assistance required in its yet infant 
 state. This being agreed to, he acquainted 
 Peter therewith by letter, who, on receiving it, 
 submitted himself with Con an and Humber, his 
 associates, and a lay -brother, to the delegated 
 authority of the abbot of Belland. 
 
 This abbot proceeded to Uredale, and staid 
 there till the Purification of the Blessed Mary, 
 
88 NOTES^. 
 
 regulating the management of the building^, ^nd 
 providing the necessaries of life. Before his 
 departure, he ordered Peter, and the two monks, 
 his associates, to attend at Bellaland on the first 
 Sunday in Lent; which they accordingly did. 
 At a chapter held there on that day, abbot Roger 
 ordained and constituted John de Kingston, 
 abbot of Uredale. The abbot appointed Peter 
 and his two associates, with nine monks of his 
 convent, to attend John de Kingston. Accord- 
 ingly on Wednesday the eighth of March, 1150, 
 abbot John, with his twelve monks, left Bellaland 
 for Uredale, at Avhich place they arrived on the 
 Friday following; when they were met by Akar- 
 ius, the founder, and other persons of rank, who 
 received them with great honour, promising John 
 their advice and assistance. 
 
 John appointed Edwald his prior, and Peter 
 his steward, and other monks into their several 
 offices there. This community underwent great 
 hardships and misery, not only from the smallness 
 of the endowment and the sterility of their land, 
 but also from the inclemency of the air, and the 
 unhealthiness of the situation. In this distress 
 they were relieved by the abbot of Belland, who 
 gave them five ships of wheat, and ten of barley, 
 for their support till autumn. He gave them also, 
 with the consent of his convent, ten oxgangs of 
 land in Ellington, wliich Serlo, a lay-brother, 
 had given them on his admission to the monastery ; 
 
NOTES. 89 
 
 together with ten oxen, ten heifers, and six mares 
 with their foals. Their wants and distresses still 
 continuing, Peter was sent by the abbot to the 
 Earl of Richmond, who was then on the conti- 
 nent, lo make known to him their wants and 
 distresses, and to request his assistance; other- 
 wise they would be under the necessity of retiring 
 to Belland. 
 
 The reception that Peter, the steward, met 
 with, was very flattering : the Earl wrote to 
 John, absolutely forbidding him to retire from 
 Uredale, and promising him substantial assistance 
 on his arrival at Richmond. Elated with these 
 promises, Peter went to Savigny, where he 
 stopped for fifteen days ; and on his departure 
 for England, the abbot gave him more reliques 
 for the new abbey at Uredale. 
 
 The Earl of Richmond not arriving in time to 
 alleviate the wants of this community, the abbot 
 was obliged to send five of his monks to Belland, 
 and three to Furness, to reside there, not having 
 sufficient for their support. Two years passed 
 away before the Earl arrived at Richmond, when 
 he relieved their immediate wants, and shortly 
 after proceeded to the valley, with his barons and 
 vassals, to hunt: they continued there six days, 
 on account of the abundance of stags and red- 
 deer, which aiforded them great amusement- 
 
 M 
 
90 NOTES. 
 
 John took the first opportunity of relatin^^ to 
 the Earl the distressed situation they were in, 
 and craved his assistance : by way of soothing 
 him, the Earl promised to consult with his pur- 
 veyor and others, upon the best method of ren- 
 dering them the support they wished for. When 
 he retired, he took Peter the steward with him, 
 who for a long time resided at the princely castle 
 of his lord. 
 
 Earl Alan died on the 28th of April, 1146, and 
 was succeeded by his son Conan, who had a 
 great regard for the abbot of Jorevale ; and when 
 he saw the place was not suited for a monastery, 
 he gave to abbot John and the convent, a waste 
 and uncultivated tract of land near East-Witton, 
 and a large piece of pasture ground in another 
 part of Wensleydale: in 1156, Conan caused 
 the monastery to be removed from Fors to a 
 pleasant valley in East-Witton. This was done 
 with the consent of Harveus, the son of Akarius 
 the founder, and that of a chapter of the Cister- 
 tian order, both given in writing; wherein Harveus 
 reserved his right to the patronage of the abbey, as 
 well as to the prayers of the monks, usually offered 
 up for the founder and his relations. He also 
 stipulated, that the bones of his father and 
 mother should be removed and buried at Jorevale. 
 
 The succeeding Earls of Richmond respect- 
 ively confirmed the donations granted by their 
 
NOTES. 91 
 
 ancestors to the abbey of Uredale, built in honour 
 of the blessed Mary, in the territory of East- 
 Witton; which con.-isted of lands, woods, &c. 
 in Askerig, Nappai, Newbigging, Redmire, 
 Herveby, Walburn, Mersks, Feldome, Dalton, 
 Melsamby with Dideestoue, Rich-Langton upon 
 Swale, Whitewell, Apelton, Tunstall, Burty, 
 Heselton, Hawkiswell, Burton Constable, Fin- 
 gall, Hotonhang, Ellynstring, Ellyngton, feturn- 
 ton, Leinyng, Ostleby, Middleton Quenrow, with 
 their appurtenances, for ever. 
 
 After surmounting various distresses, the com- 
 munity of this abbey continued, for near 350 
 years, to reign in great splendour ; for at the dis- 
 solution, according to Speed, it was valued at 
 c£455. lUs. 3d. 
 
 When the order for the dissolution of religious 
 houses was issued, it may be seen irom the follow- 
 ing letter, how active the agents were in carrying 
 the wishes of their employers into effect: it is 
 therefore not surprising to see so few vestiges of 
 them now remaining. 
 
 " Pleasythe your lordship to be advertysed I 
 have taken down all the lead of Jervaux, and 
 made it into pecys of half fodders, which lead 
 amounteth to the number of eighteen score and 
 live fodders, with thirty and four fodders and a 
 half that were there before : and the said lead 
 cannot be conveit nor carried until the next 
 M 2 
 
92 NOTES. 
 
 sommre, for the ways in that countre are so foul 
 
 and deep, that no carryai^e can pass in wyntre. 
 
 And as coneerninge the raising and taking down 
 
 of the iiouse, if it be your lordship's pleasure, I 
 
 am minded to let it stand to the next spring of the 
 
 year, by reason of the days are now so short, it 
 
 woide be double charges to do it now. And as 
 
 concerning the selling of the bells I cannot sell 
 
 them above fifteen shillings the hundred, wherein 
 
 I would gladly know your lordship's pleasure, 
 
 whether I sholde sell them after that price, or 
 
 send them up to London ; and if they be sent up, 
 
 surely the caryage will be costly from that place 
 
 to the water. And as for Bridlington, 1 have done 
 
 nothing there as yet ; but spayreth it to March 
 
 next, because the days are now so very short ; 
 
 and from such time as I begin I trust shortly to 
 
 dispatch it after such fashion, that when all is 
 
 finished, I trust your lordship hath appointed me 
 
 to do : and thus the Holy Ghost ever preserve 
 
 your lordship in honour. 
 
 At York, this 14th day of November, 1558, by 
 
 Your lordship's most bounden headman, 
 
 Richard Bellyeys." 
 
 This ancient structure had become nearly over- 
 grown with rough wood and briars, and scarcely 
 any trace of it as a building remained, except some 
 broken walls, covered Avith ivy, and the tops of a 
 few arches, nearly level with the ground ; when in 
 the year 1805, the late Thomas Bruce Brudenell 
 
NOTES. 98 
 
 Bruce, Earl of Ailesbury, visited this place; and 
 amon^ a great variety ot improvements projected 
 upon his estate, was much pleased with an experi- 
 ment that had been made by his steward, in digging 
 down to the bottom of one of the arches, which 
 proved to he the door of the abbey-church, and 
 led to a beautiful floor of tesselated pavement. 
 His lordship directed the whole of the ruin to be 
 explored, and cleared out; which was doue in 
 1806 and 1807, at a very considerable expence, 
 as the base of the building was buried several 
 feet below the surface; when the abbey ctiurch 
 and choir, 270 feet long, with the cross aisles, — 
 the high altar, and several tombs or recesses, — 
 the chapter-house, 48 feet by 35, with marble 
 pillars, formerly supporting the roof, — were dis- 
 covered; also the abbot's house, the garden, 
 kitchen, refectory, cloisters, and dormitory. 
 
 The great aisle was laid with tesselated pave - 
 ment, in geometrical figures ; it was found in a 
 perfect state, but was soon after so much affected 
 by the air and frost, that only lew could be preser- 
 ved ; however before they were taken up, draw- 
 ings were made Irom them by Mr. P. A. Rein- 
 agle, Jun. of London ; and specimens were shewn 
 to Sir Joseph Banks, Bart, who considered them 
 to be some of the best he had seen in England. 
 In the aisles were also found several stone coflins, 
 with inscriptions thereon, in a very perfect state. 
 
94 NOTES. 
 
 In order to preserve this ancient scite, it has 
 been enclosed by a sunk fence, in part, or by a 
 wall; and over the entrance is the following 
 inscription. 
 
 Yorevale Abbey, 
 
 Founded Anno Domini 1141, 
 
 Demolished Anno Domini 1537. 
 
 These ancient Ruins were traced out. 
 
 And cleared, by order of 
 
 The Right Hon. Thomas Earl of Ailesbury, 
 
 Anno Domini 1807. 
 
 His Lordship also directed to be Ibuilt near the 
 abbey, a neat plain house, as a residence for his 
 steward; and preserved an ancient gateway, as 
 an approach thereto, which though of a later 
 date than the abbey, is much admired. He also 
 projected an embankment of the river Ure, which 
 has been made, with much advantage to his 
 tenantry ; and directed the surrounding hills to 
 be planted upon an extensive scale, as well as 
 the general repair of the farm-houses upon his 
 estate ; the rebuilding of the village of East- 
 Witton, and widening the roads through his 
 estate. 
 
 In the year 1809, his lordship erected at his 
 own expence, upon a beautiful spot near the 
 village of East Witton, a parish church of stone, 
 in the Gothic style, covered with slate, and finished 
 
NOTES. 95 
 
 in a plain and chaste manner ; which forms an 
 edifice highly ornamental to the country; and 
 which he gave to the parish, with an acre of land 
 for a church-yard ; and to this he added a clock, 
 and six bells. The inscription over the west door 
 of the tower, is as follows. 
 
 In the year of our Lord 
 
 One thousand eight hundred and nine, 
 
 When the People of the United Empire, 
 
 Grateful for the security and happiness, 
 
 Enjoyed under the mild and just Government 
 
 Of their virtuous and pious Monarch, 
 
 Returned solemn and public thanks to 
 
 Almighty God, 
 
 That by the protection of Divine Providence, 
 
 His Majesty King George the third. 
 
 Had been preserved, to enter on 
 
 The fiftieth Year of his Reign ; 
 
 The Right Hon. Thomas Bruce Brudenell Bruce, 
 
 Earl of Ailesbury, 
 
 In commemoration of that event, 
 
 First designed. 
 
 And thence carried into effect, 
 
 The Building of this 
 
 Church. 
 
 His Lordship also exchanged the glebe-land, 
 which was scattered about the parish, for an 
 equal quantity of his own, adjoining the cUurch ; 
 on which he built a neat vicarage house and 
 
S8 JTOTES. 
 
 offices, with a walled garden. His subscription 
 in aid of Queen Anne's Bounty, made up the 
 sum of cfnOO, which has increased the benefice 
 from ,£56 a year to =f 100, exclusive of the vicar- 
 age and glebe. 
 
 His Lordship died the 19th day of April, 1814, 
 in the 85th year of his age: the Right Hon. 
 Charles Earl of Ailesbury, his only son, is now 
 the owner of the estate. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 Far, far extend your view o^er Mowbray's plain. Page 29. 
 
 History informs us that Robert Mowbray was 
 distinguished for courage and conduct, and in 
 the year 1093 was governor of the northern part& 
 of this kingdom : he became a favourite of the 
 Conqueror, who commissioned him to make head 
 against the Scots, in which expedition he was 
 successful, and on that occasion had extensive 
 domains conceded to him. This grant must have 
 been very large, for the great space or plain 
 between the hills of Cleveland, Richmond, and 
 Middleham, of which Northallerton may be called 
 the centre, was, and continues to be termed the 
 Vale of Mowbray. 
 
 Mr. Maude's « WharfedaUr 
 
NOTES. D? 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 Exalted Leyhurn next, rvilh open arms. Page 29. 
 
 Leyburn is a market-town, pleasantly situated 
 on the side of" one of tliose sloping- eminences, 
 which adcru the northern margin of the vale; 
 it is about tv/o miles from Middlehara, and about 
 a mile from Wensley. The town has been nearly 
 rebuilt, within the last fifteen years. The market 
 is on Friday, and is well attended: there are 
 four fairs, viz. — on the second Friday in Febru- 
 ary, May, October, and December, for honied 
 cattle-and sheep. The principal inns are the 
 Bolton Arms, and the King's Arms. There is 
 also a bank, called the Wensleydale Bank, under 
 the firm of Ilutton, Wood, and Co. which is a 
 great accommodation to the neighbourhood. 
 
 On the western side of the town, is a pleasant 
 walk, nearly a mile in length, which is much 
 frequented : it is formed on a mass of rock, which 
 rises gradually to a considerable height above the 
 valley, forming a natural terrace, from which the 
 picturesque views and extended prospects of 
 romantic scenery, can scarcely be exceeded. There 
 is an opening from this terrace into the wood, 
 which is called the Queen's Gap : through this, 
 according to tradition, Mary Queen of Scots 
 passed, when attempting to make her escape from 
 Bolton Castle. Ed. 
 
 N 
 
98 NOTES- 
 
 NOTE VII. 
 While Garfir(ive''s piercing lore descries from far. Page 30. 
 
 A gentleman residing at Leyburn, Avliose abili- 
 ties in maliioniatics, astronomy, and their dcpeji- 
 doncics, are well known, far beyond the limits of 
 tliis vale. [1780.] 3Ir. Maude, 
 
 Note VIII. 
 
 Jiut cease my steps, free feast the roviiifj cijf. Page 30. 
 
 Highly ai^reeable as the prospect is from tlie 
 terrace of Leyburn shawl or wood, it undoubt- 
 edly yields to the view from Preston Scar, at a 
 station from a point projectiuE^ over the village, 
 wear to the turnpike road at Searthnick. 
 
 The advantage of this view, besides its greater 
 variety of objects, is likewise that of its being 
 most commodiously accessible to all kinds of 
 carriages. The s])ectator has thence a full sight 
 of the valley, the castles of 31iddlehain and 
 Bolton, a glimpse of the cataract of Aysgarth, 
 no less than eight villages and seven churches, 
 most of which are ornamented with very hand- 
 some steeples. 
 
 But indeed there is not an eminence -.vhich con- 
 tributes to inclose tlie vale, but what can boast of 
 
NOTES. oa 
 
 the beauties of its situation, and with this superi- 
 ority too, above all other jjlaces i remember, that 
 thoug-h equally fine with the Downs oi" Wilts or 
 Dorset, for pasture and exercise in wet or dry 
 weather, being- ui)on a limestone, the country is 
 highly diversified Avitli those majestic irregularities 
 of nature, which never satiate. Add to this, that 
 those happy circumstances of pleasure and health, 
 run parnllel on the north and south sides of the 
 valley for numy miles, attended with the richest 
 pastures, copious streams, and gdod roads. 
 
 Though Derbyshire is repute<l to be the lead- 
 ing county for i-emarkable and romantic prospects, 
 they seem to be more meagre, are less compounded 
 of the g-reat and little, the cultivated and ruder 
 parts of nature, with the intermixture of ruins, 
 than Avhat fall to the lot of this district. 
 
 31 r. 3Iuude. 
 
 Note IX. 
 
 AUrl, ijoii iporticc now the Gi ousc pursue. I'ag-e 34. 
 
 To many \\ho live ii) the southern districts of 
 of this kingdoHi, it i!k._, be necessary to explain, 
 that the shooting of uu.or-game or (jt'onse, is a 
 diversion little known to the couiities southward 
 of Yorkshire and Derbyshire, It is an exercise 
 much more laborious than the pursuit of partridge, 
 of which season it has also the start of about live 
 . L. of C. ' N 2 
 
100 NOTES, 
 
 weeks. As the scene of action is chiefly on 
 wild heaths, it is not unusual for parties to ertcaKip 
 in the day-time, to take refreshment, and secure 
 themselves from had weather; to wliich the 
 description in the poem alludes. The hird is 
 larger than a partridge, which in shape it some- 
 what resembles; is of a fine glossy variegated 
 brown, with eyes encircled by a very bright scarlet- 
 coloured memjrane, and featl'.ered legs and feet. 
 The food of this bird consists of bilberries, (the 
 fruit of the vaccinium of botanists,) with the tops 
 and flowers of the ling or hoath. lis fie h is 
 reputed to have the highest flavour of any British 
 bird. Mr. Rlaiule. 
 
 Note X. 
 
 Lo! where the glisfnhig store, disclos^i to da'j. Page 35. 
 
 The moors or wastes are here replete with lead, 
 and so bountiful is nature to this district, that 
 after having fringed the more fertile part of the 
 valley with open and commodious pastures for 
 exercise and the chace, the background of tlie 
 countrj becomes no less valuable for its minerals, 
 besides affording plenty of peat, limestone, and 
 coals, for the accommodation and employment of 
 its inhabitants. 
 
 Here is also a beautiful spar, which conduces 
 not only to the more ready smelting of ore, but 
 
NOTES. 101 
 
 is applied to the forming of garden walks. It is 
 much esteemed, not only for its lustre and binding 
 quality, but being inimical to weeds. 
 
 , Mr. Maude. 
 
 Note XI. 
 
 Nenton ! the lofty wonder of the age. Page 38. 
 
 As the smallest anecdote concerning' so great 
 an ornament to human nature, becomes amusing, 
 especially in a character so uniformly studious as 
 his, I shall briefly relate what may not be so gene- 
 rally known, and therefore give the curious travel- 
 ler an opportunity of bestowing one transient 
 glance upon the humble tenement, where this 
 illustrious man first saw that light, which he so 
 well defined, or the elegant situation where he 
 resigned his breath. 
 
 The first is a farm-house at the little village of 
 Woolsthorpe, consisting of a few messuages in 
 the same stile of humility, about half a mile west 
 of Colters worth, on the great north road between 
 Stamford and Grantham, known to every peasant 
 in the neighourhood. 
 
 He died at lodgings in that agreeable part of 
 Kensington called Orbell's, now Pitt's, Buildings. 
 His academic time was spent in Trinity College, 
 Cambridge, where his apartments continue to be 
 
IM NOTEK. 
 
 mrutioned occas'ionatly, on the spot, to straiva^erSj 
 with a (h'OTco of Imuhiblc exultation. His prin- 
 cijn>! io\vn-hoiis«' was in 8t. Martin's .Street, tiie 
 forneroi" Louj»-'s Court, Leicester Fielils^ where 
 is yet !?ta!ulini^' a sniail observatory, Avhich ^ir 
 Isaac huiit upon (he roof. 
 
 Tlis temper >Yas so niihl and equal, that scarce 
 aijy accidents disturbed it. t. One instance in par- 
 fieidar, which is authenticated by a witness now 
 ii\ini^', [1780,] brini>-s this assertion to a proof, 
 iStr f saac being* called out of his study tt) a con- 
 ttgntoiis room, a little do«^, cailed Diamond, the 
 constant but incurious attendant of his master's 
 rese;ircht's, happened to be Ic'ft iimon<i- the papers, 
 uTid by a fatality not to be retrieved, as it was in 
 the latter part of Hir Isaac's days, threw down 
 a Ir^-iited candle, which consumed the alniost- 
 liuished labours of suiiie years. Sir Isaac return- 
 iiii^ (oo late, but to behold the dreadful wreck, 
 rc?K!fved the author of it Avith an exclamation, 
 ,'ad i^irh r(f pahiidsj "Oh Diamond! Diamond! 
 thou little kuowest the mischief done! " — without 
 adding-a singdc stripe. 
 
 Tiv(> obscurity in which Sir Isaac's pedig'ree 
 is, iiivoived, who only died A. D. 1726, makes it 
 less a woiider that we should be so little ac(!uainted 
 \>,Itb the orig'in of the i^reat characters of anti(£uity, 
 m- those of later a<jres. 
 
NOTES. . J 03 
 
 TI19 author of liioyvaphia philosopiarn^ has 
 
 nnuie Sir Isaac NcwtaM's iathev i\w viilcsi sou of 
 
 .1 ])aroiU't, ami liU-thor sneaks ot" ihc kuii!i«fs 
 J, 1 I •", 
 
 |) itiiuiouial oi)uK>nce; tlic contrary of Avhi(;h 
 assertions, the tcsJiniony of hisi p.ti'isii will satli(^i- 
 cntly confirm, ((id not the account alone confute 
 itself; for by consequence Sir Isaac woulil have 
 li d au here(iifary title, \\aich e\ident!y was not 
 tiic fact. This reuowiuMl phih)S()]>her was indehred 
 more to nature for the i^'ifts, with which she had 
 ordowed hlni, than, to Vac accidents of any i>feat 
 (U'sceut ; a circumstance, whicli adds, ii"possihk», 
 g'rcater lustre to the man, who, without the 
 advantai^es of eminent hirth, alliance, or fortune, 
 attamed the hii»;hest pinnacle of scientilic fame. 
 
 The little I have been al>le to collect of thte 
 family of tiiis i>"reat man, by a dilig-ent enquiry 
 both in and about his native parish, and amonij; 
 the very few of his surviNing- distant relations of 
 half-blood, for none else remain, serves bat to 
 confute the many j)alpable errors committed by 
 his bioi>Taphers on this occasion; most of whom, 
 ill copying- each other, havi' erroneously inadc him 
 descend from a baroiiet. it niay be liovt' time 
 therefore, when the traces of truth on that subject 
 are nearly lost, brielly to preserve some traits of 
 his {genealogy, which the inquisitive reader may 
 tle])end ui)ou to have been careftdly collect (mI. 
 
 Mr. Jo'ui Newton, the father of Sir Isaac, had 
 a'paternal estate in Woolsthorpe and tlie neijrh- 
 
104 NOTES. 
 
 bourhood of about fifty pounds a year. He was a 
 wild, extravagant, and weak man, but married 
 a woman of good fortune. His wife's name 
 was Ayscoug^h, whose father lived in Woolsthorpe 
 likewise, and was lord of that manor. The 
 said manor, with some other property, descended 
 to Sir Isaac, upon the death of his grandfather, 
 Ayscough. Sir Isaac made some trifling pur- 
 chuses himself; and his whole estate in that 
 neighbourhood, amounted, at the time of his 
 death, to about of 105 per annum, which fell to the 
 share of his second cousin, John Newton; who 
 being dissolute and illiterate, soon dissipated his 
 estate in extravagance, dying about the thirtieth 
 year of his age, in 1737, at Colters worth, b^ a 
 tobacco-pipe breaking in his throat, in the act of 
 smoking, from a fall in the street, occasioned by 
 ebriety. 
 
 The father of the above John was also John 
 Newton, a carpenter, afterwards game-keeper to 
 Sir Isaac, and died at the age of sixty, in 1725. 
 In the Rolls or Records, that are sometimes read 
 at the Court-leets in Grantham, mention is made 
 of an Ayscough, who is styled " Gentleman, and 
 guardian and trustee to Isaac Newton under age." 
 
 It is very certain that Sir Isaac was a post- 
 humous issue, and had no full brothers or sisters ; 
 but his mother, by her second marriage with Mr. 
 Smith, the rector of North-Witham, a parish 
 adjoining Coltersworth, had a son and two or 
 
NOTES. 105 
 
 three daiic^hters ; — which issue female afterwards 
 branching by marriages with persons of the names 
 of Barton and Conduit, families of property and 
 respectable charicter, partook, with the Smith's 
 of Sir Isaac's personal effects, which were very 
 considerable. 
 
 Sir Isaac, when a boy, was sometimes employed 
 in me.ial oifices, ev^n to aii attendance on the. 
 servant to open gates in carrying corn to Gran- 
 tham-market, and watching the sheep; in which 
 last occupation, tradition says, that a gentleman 
 found him, near Woolsthorpe, looking into a book 
 of the mathematical kind; and asking some'ques- 
 tions, perceived such dawnings of genius, as 
 induced him to solicit the mother to give her son 
 an university education, promising to assist in the 
 youth's maintenance at college if there was occa- 
 sion. But whether that necessity took place, is a 
 point I have not been able to determine. 
 
 He lived a bachelor, and died in his 85th year, 
 having, as i r 3I ition ^ii or nsd me, who quoted the 
 authority of Sir Isnc's owa confession, never 
 violated the laws of chastity. 
 
 The house at Woolsthorpe has seemingly under- 
 gone little or no exterior a'teration, since the time 
 it inclosed this greit man, and continues to be 
 visited by the curious, who occasionally pass the 
 Northern Road. 
 
 o 
 
106 NOTEl 
 
 There is extant a letter from Sir Isaac, dated 
 from Jermyn Street, where he also lived, which 
 I have read. It is now in the possession of aii 
 inhabitant at Colters worth, and descends by heir- 
 ship, thoug-h the subject is only upon common pai'ish 
 business; a circumstance which shews, how much 
 the humble owner, unconnected with the family or 
 the science of our philosopher, venerates his cha- 
 racter, eve)i, as I have been informed, to his having 
 resisted gold for the purchase of so apparent a 
 trifle. 
 
 A relation of the Knight, the late Rev. Mr. 
 Smith of Linton, in Craven, Yorkshire, left a 
 small ivory bust of admirable workmanship exe- 
 cuted by that celebrated artist, Marchand, which 
 from its elegance, similitude, and placid expression, 
 is truly valuable. It is said to have cost Sir Isaac 
 oneliundred guineas, and is specKiedin an authen- 
 tic inventory of his effects, taken by virtue of a 
 commission of appraisement in April, 1727, now in 
 my. possession. It appears that his personal estate 
 amounted to <£31,821. 16s. lOd. which was distri- 
 buted among eight relations, Sir Isaac dying 
 intestate. He had also an acquired farm or estate 
 at Baydon, Wilts, but of no greater annual value. 
 It likewise appears, as a proof of his benevolence, 
 that he was not an oppressive landlord, since at his 
 death, there was owing hira by one tenant £Q0. 
 for three years rent, and by another, for two years 
 snd a half, a smaller sum. It may not be imper- 
 
NOTES. 107 
 
 tinent to mention our philosopliei's wardrobe and 
 collar, v/hicli in the valuation, stand thus. — Item, 
 ^vearing- apparel, woollen and linen, one silver hil- 
 ted sword and two canes, ^£8. 3s. Item, in the 
 wine vault, a parcel of wine and cyder ia bottles, 
 jLli. 16s. 6d. The furniture and luxuries of his 
 housebearin^ nearly the like pro})ortion,his library 
 excepted, which consisted of 2000 volumes and 
 JOG weight of pam})hlets. 
 
 Since the publication of my notes hi the first 
 edition of this piece, the cm'iosity of the public 
 has been excited to enquire more particularly for 
 anecdotes relative to tins exalted person. Besides 
 the remarks made on this subject in our biograph- 
 ical books, and otherwise dispersed among his 
 eulogists, the reader is referred to the Gent. Mag. 
 for the month of November, 1772, for a genealog- 
 ical table of the family, and other matter, collected 
 by a good hand from the papers of the late curious 
 Dr. Stukeley, whose great partiality forour author, 
 JTiitiated him early into the service of being irir 
 Isaac's memorialist. Some particuhirs are also 
 given in the annual register for the year 1772, 
 under the sigr.aturo of J. 11. v.here a small circum- 
 stanc-e ad\a:;ced by myself, is rather doubted; but, 
 amicus Plato ^c. A refer( nee to the above-men- 
 tioned periofhcal works, might contribute to enricli 
 the future biography of this great man. The 
 reader will excuse this digression, and also our 
 attempt to commemorate the modest dwelling af 
 o 2 
 
108 NOTES. 
 
 Newton, which the philosophic eye may prefer to 
 the proud palace of Versailles. Mr. Maude. 
 
 Note XII. 
 
 Of Redmire^s mininy town how shall rve sing f 
 
 The circiing verdure and its healing spring — Page 38. 
 
 Redrnire is a small village on the southern 
 bank of the Eure, about four miles and a half from 
 Leyburn : it is chiefly inhabited by miners. This 
 place has obtained some degree of reputation on 
 account of its mineral spring, which attracts 
 numerous visitors in the summer months. Ed. 
 
 Note XIII. 
 
 Historic Bolton, ihrouqh past ages farn' d, 
 
 Now by the line of du( ai P>.wletts claim'd. Page 3&, 
 
 * Bolton Castle stands on the north side of 
 Wensleydale, six miles west of Middieham. Its 
 situation is admirably adapted to overlook, from 
 its lofty walls, the extensive demesnes anciently 
 belonging to it; as well as to express that magis- 
 terial air of grandeur, so characteristic in the 
 style of architecture. It was built at about the 
 distance of half a mile from the river Eure, on an 
 ascent, which gradually continues to an immense 
 
 *The whole of this note is extracted from Grose's Antiquities, 
 but was tvriltea and comiaunicaled to that geatlemaa.b; Mr. 
 Maude, to. 
 
PEDIGREEf 
 
 ■mm ) 
 
 AP8( aiio ajojoq pouiiq aq oj .fpoq s.q pa.dTJoiibaq a,[ 'c[g, '< 
 
 199 'f! 
 
 .3S oqi Ajusji SiHTi .JO U'S am jo pB,, aqs q.nqiv 'aaVlRSd 
 
 ''qi «'l aABi? osiB ai|^ •oi[ o} ^hom pnq Miibjiiui p.ioj p, 
 
 ...DjBui «Xajp -soqx oj jaiqSnBp ascq « 'Xjbj^t o^un paqn 
 
 "" >«:i.....'.a.. fn„, ST.. ni.v ''.^.MT.. T:>ir nSn.imTu «.ah.mii 
 
 af 
 
 id 
 
 it 
 
 ;s, 
 
 le 
 
 in 
 
 of 
 
 ers 
 
 me 
 
 the 
 
 ro^ 
 
 !se: 
 
 ton, 
 
 e in 
 
 the 
 
 rs is 
 
 •ully 
 
 ided 
 
 lord 
 
 hom 
 
 e for 
 
AM &UPSALL;(1) 
 
 477.; 
 
 =Ivetta, dau. of William Ros, of 
 Igmanthorp, co. Nott. 
 
 I_-A_. 
 
 vid 
 
 Geoffry Scrope, Rector of Bowden, 
 died 1380. 
 
 je, earl of Wiltshire, 
 ,'headed 1399. 
 
 rd Scrope,= Eil2abeth, dau. of 3. William le 
 '?asuror 10 [ T.Chawortli,Esc[. -Scrope. 
 
 [.died 1455 1 died 1466. 
 
 >crope of Masham=: 
 11, died 1475. 
 
 Elizabct'h, dau. of Ralph 
 lord Greystock. 
 
 1 Scrope of Masham 
 'died .S-. p. 
 
 1 Scrope of Masham 
 died s. p. m. Sept. 
 
 1 Scrope of Masham 
 a clerk, died s. p. 
 3-2. 
 
 1. Alice, coheir to her bro- 
 thers, nuviricd Thomas 
 
 Stranoreways, esq. 
 
 2. Mary, marrir'd Sir Chris^. 
 Danby, knt. 
 
 3. Elizabeth, cohei ", mar- 
 ried to Sir Ralph Fitz 
 Raudolf of Spe)iitl. '>rp> 
 knt. lord of Middl-ha "• 
 
 >houl<l lay a stone over her grave, with three images; the or.. 
 Iherof herself, and a tliird of her said daugiiter; with theii 
 n, making mention whom they wtre , and this to the value of 
 t should make a tomb over sir Jlenry Wentnorlh, knt. her lato 
 me abbey, co. Lincoln, to the value of twenty pounds sterling ; 
 other tomb to be made in Bisham abbey, co. Berks, to the 
 
NOTES.^ loa 
 
 height, and forms a barrier to defend the pile from 
 the northern winds. On the east is the village of 
 Bolton ; on the west is a rookery, which opens 
 into spacious pastures, formerly occupied as parks: 
 while in the front, as well as on each side, tiie 
 vale unbosoms its charms in the most engaging 
 manner. 
 
 This castle was built by Richard lord Scrope, 
 high chancellor, in the tiiird year of the reign of 
 Richard II.: the patent for its erection is dated 
 4 July, 1191, and is still extant. Leland says it 
 was 18 years in building, and cost 18,000 marks, 
 or of 12,000, an enormoas siun in those days. He 
 likewise relates, that most of the timber used in 
 its construction, was brought from the forest of 
 Engleby in Cumberland, by means of divers 
 relays of ox-teams placed on the road. The same 
 author mentions a remarkable contrivance in the 
 chimnies of the great hall, and a curious astro- 
 nomical clock. His remarks on the first are these : 
 *' One thing I rauche notyd in the haulle of Bolton, 
 how chimeneys was conveyed by tunnills made in 
 the sydes of the waulls, betwixt the lights in the 
 haullo; and by this meanes and by no covers is 
 tlie smoke of the harthe in the hawle w onderfully 
 convoyed." In this castle was a chantry, founded 
 likewise with the king's patent, by Richard lord 
 Scrope, consisting of six priests, one of whom 
 was to be warden, to celebrate divine service for 
 king Richard II. and his heirs. 
 
X O T K S. 
 
 Tlie plan of this building- is of a quadrilateral 
 
 fissure, ■whose g-reatest ieiigtli runs from north to 
 
 south ; but, on measuring it, no two of the sides 
 
 are found equal; that on the south being 184 feet, 
 
 the north 187, the west 131, and the east 125 
 
 fe t. it has four right-lined towers, one at each 
 
 angle; but neither their faces nor flanks arts 
 
 equal; cacli of the former measuring, on the north 
 
 and south sides, 47 feet and a half, and on the 
 
 east and west, only 35 feet and a half; the latter 
 
 vary from 7 feet aii<l a half to six feet. In the 
 
 centre, between the two tow ers, both on the north 
 
 and south sides, is a large j)rojecting right-angled 
 
 buttress or turret; that on the north side is 15 feet 
 
 in front, its west side is li, and its east 10 feet ; 
 
 on the south side the front is 12 feet, its east 9, 
 
 and its west side twelve feet. As these buttresses 
 
 stand at right angles to the building, and their 
 
 Hanks or sides being thus unequal, neither north 
 
 nor south curtains are one continued right-line. 
 
 The grand entrance was in the east curtain, 
 near the southernmost tower; there were besidea 
 these, three other doors, one on the north and two 
 on the west side. The walls are 7 feet in thick- 
 ness, and 96 in height. It was lighted by several 
 stages of windows. Leland says, the chief lodging- 
 rooms were in the towel's; and that here Avas a 
 fjne park, walled in with stone. 
 
 In this castle IMary Queen of Scots was con- 
 fined nearly the space of two years, being giuiriled 
 
NOTES. Uj 
 
 l)y Sir Francis Knollos, under the inspection of 
 lord Sciope. Ilcr coiifineiuent wns not very 
 „closo, as she was permitted to ride out occasion- 
 xxXif, and tradition reports, that she once attempted 
 to make her escape, through a wood in the neigh- 
 hourhood of Leyhiirn, by a road that still retains 
 the name of the Queei^'s Gap. It was here that 
 the tiuke of Norfolk, who was allied to the 
 Scropes, made his fatal overtures; and the suspi- 
 cions exc?ted by his attentions toihe royal prisoner, 
 most probaWy contributed to her removal to 
 Tutbury castle in Staffordshire : she had left her 
 name upon a pane of i^lass in her bed-room win- 
 d-ow, cut with a diamond ring-; which was preserved 
 with great care for man j^ years, but has since been 
 removed to Boltoii Hall. 
 
 During the civil wars in the reign of Charles I.j 
 this castle was bravely defended for the king, by 
 Colonel Scrope and a party of the Richmondsihire 
 Militia, but at length, Nov. 5, 1645, surrendered 
 to the parliamentary forces on honourable con- 
 ditions. 
 
 Emanuel lord Scrope, earl of Sunderland^ who 
 died without legitimate male issue, in the reign of 
 Charles I., was the last of that ancient family, 
 who inhabited the castle. This nobleman was 
 president of the commission held at York in the 
 above king's reign, and is mentioned by ^owell; 
 who was secretary to his lordship. 
 
t\i NOTES. 
 
 On an inspection of Bolton Castle, some simi- 
 larity occurs, which in (general is in all castles of 
 any antiquity. The circumstances here alluded 
 to, are the immense size of their ovens ; the 
 seeming unnecessary strength of their walls, for 
 the time when the bow and arrow were in use; 
 and the gloomy construction of their rooms. In 
 respect to the first article, the presumption of 
 supplying the besieged with bread in time of war, 
 and ancient hospitality in time of peace, may be 
 sufficient for explaining the taste of our ancestors 
 in this way; but in regard to the other, it would 
 appear, as if the distinguished founders of the 
 mansions, were utter enemies to the all-cheering 
 comforts of light and air; for notwithstanding 
 small windows and apertures in the walls, agree- 
 able to the mode in those days, might tend to give 
 stability to the pile, and safety to the inhabitants 
 in those military and feudal ages; certain it is, 
 that much of this precaution might have been 
 . spared, more especially aloft, without prejudice 
 to either. Let us add to this the first of conside- 
 rations, good health, which must IVequently have 
 been sacrificed during the seasoning of the walls, 
 which would take up half a century. Such is the 
 apartment shewn as that in which Mary Queen of 
 Scots was confined, and the bed room of the lord 
 Scropes; both of which according to the refine- 
 ment of the present age, would not be thought 
 sufficiently good, even for the domestic animal* 
 of a man of fortune. 
 
NOTES. 113 
 
 To hazard n conjecture, the ereot'on of this 
 castle might he calculated to clieck the growing 
 and formidahle power of that of Middlehamel more 
 ancient date; whose owners, the Ne\ils, from 
 their enterprizins^ spirit, and the mutahility of the^** 
 politics, became troublesome to many regal suc- 
 cessions; whilst the Scropes were more pacific 
 and loyal. This castle belongs to the Bolton 
 family, it came into that line by the marriage of 
 an ancestor with a daughter of Emanuel Scrope, 
 Earl of Sunderland. 
 
 The chasm seen in the building was occasioned 
 by the fall of one of the towers, which once deco- 
 rated and defended the pile. This event happened 
 on the night of the 19th of Nov. 1761, tlie lapsed 
 tower, being on that angle on which the castle 
 had been attacked in the civil wars of the 17ili 
 century. 
 
 The castle is one of those, which, from the scite 
 and preservation of its remaining parts is very 
 pleasing to the eye and highly ornamental to the 
 country; nor is it less an object of grandeur and 
 beauty, seen from the avenues of the wood near 
 Bolton-hall, the modern mansion of the noble 
 owner of both, where, in several views, tbe castle 
 makes a distant termination singularly fine and 
 grotesque. 
 
1 1 l NO'J'l',«. 
 
 In ilic ccnlro of (he cnHilr is a sqiinrr nrrn, 
 CiiU-iiliilcd to j^\\r. li^lii, :iimI air lo Mir iiilcriiiil 
 oilici^H iiiid ujiardiKMilH- 
 
 Tlicrr niiH ;• (*li.i|nl in llic (Jasllc, dcdicaicd (o 
 St. Ann, in uliicli a cliandy was loiindcd l»y tin; 
 Jibovo llicliard lord S(i(»|)c (or (I I*iics(s lo <ud«'- 
 brato niilHH for Ihc sonl oi Itidiard II. and liin 
 lu'irs, on«' oj'fjicni (o be wardm. 
 
 'I'liis was one ol" Ibc inland rasllrs, wliicli wrrr 
 ordt-rcd by (be conimiftrc at ^ oik, in I(il7, in Ix^ 
 ficslroyrd and nia<lc iinlcnabb'. 
 
 NOTK XII. 
 
 Ifiil viiti>, (} .ii/niiurth, li'l 1111/ r II Ill/I'd vrrnr, 
 
 'J'lir iviinilfrn Iff till/ calaruvl» rcltvariii\- -t'ufn; 'II. 
 
 TIk' roniaiilir silnalion of ibc bandsonic cbiircli 
 of Ays<;ailb, on an ('niiin-m'c, solitarily overlook - 
 iny;' (licsc <'a(ara<'(sor(b(' l<]nr<', wondcirnlly In-iirji- 
 tcns (be: |>icl.iir<>H<|U(^ idea oC (bis nnnsnal scene; 
 nor is (Ixm'c. any place, <bal. I know, iinn-e bajijiily 
 adai>l<'<l (o insjiiie llie soolliini;' senliinenis of 
 j'U'gy, (ban (ids. 'I'lie deecney of (be sdMicdlle 
 widiin and \vi(lion(, its jjerlec^t. retirement., tlie 
 rural cbiireb yard, tbe <lyin|i;' sounds oi' water 
 amidst wood and roeks, wildly intermixed, at a 
 <iis(an('e, witb tin' v.iricty of ina<;°iii(nde oldie sur 
 itMiiidini;' bills, e(ni(iir t;rea(ly to enerease tbe 
 ;nvi'iilness ol" tlie }\ liole. Hut some late admirable 
 
NOTE'S. iifi 
 
 |no(lu(<i<)ns, ill the flff^isu; strain, impose ;iii \itti-i 
 ««ilence on me, Mid (lie ri;i<iir»' of my sulijcct admit 
 of any micli ;in ;it(»inj)(. 
 
 In approfieliiiif;' Uw. falls flial arc ahovc lli'" 
 bridge f'rorn tlie roa<l on tlio iiortli side, on wliieh it 
 always oui^lit to he visited, yon liave th(^ siii«^iilar 
 advantaj^(; of sr'.eini^ tli<'iri tliroiii^li a spacions lii^lit 
 arch, whieh, from the ohliqnity<if tlieliig'livvay, prc- 
 j,ent9 the river, at every step you advanee, in many 
 ph;asini^ attitudes, till you mount the eronri of the 
 hridt^e and take the whole in one beautiful gro- 
 tes<pie view. 
 
 VV'r- may add to this el(;^ant (/ireumstance ano- 
 ther incident in character, that the concave of the 
 bridg^O is emfxllislicd liy harii^inf^ [)etrifactions, 
 and its airy battlement happily f»rstoone,d with ivy • 
 near on the ri^ht hand of the road, attends a slop- 
 ing wood, on the left is Aysj^arth steeple, nfagi- 
 (lally, as it were erncrt^inj^ from a copse, vvhile the 
 closinj^ back i^round of the view is an assemblag'e 
 of multifarious shrubs, oer-i^reens, projectini^ 
 rocks, and a lijioomy cave. 
 
 The vvat*r fiiHiui^ rr-ar half a mile uj>on a surface 
 of a stone, worn into iiifinite irrif^uous (nvitics, and 
 inclosed by bold and shrubby clifl's, is every where 
 ehantjini; its face, breaking forth into irref^uhir 
 beauties till it forms the grand descent called the 
 F'orce. — The late learned traveller, T)r, Pococke, 
 o 2 
 
U« NOTES. 
 
 whose search after the sublime and marvellous, 
 brought hhn to this part, was said to own, with 
 exultation, that these cataracts exceeded those in 
 Eg"ypt, to which he was no stranger. 
 
 There is yet an object seldom seen but by those 
 who narrowly seek amusement, and even little 
 known in the neighbourhood. This demands our 
 note (lor our description it cannot have) upon a 
 rivulet at Heaning, distant about two miles irqm 
 these falls of the Eure. 
 
 This curious fall of water runs into a low steep 
 gill, which is difficult of access, and when viewed 
 from the bottom, the stream appears like a silver 
 chain, whose highest link seems connected with 
 the clouds, descending through a display of 
 hovering branches and shading foliage, which, in 
 proportion to the thick or thinner weaving of the 
 boughs, now bursts, and then twinkles, in a 
 manner most amazingly captivating. In a few 
 words, the most copious language must fail in any 
 attempt to describe its unutterable charms, when 
 seen at a season to allow it a force of water. 
 Many scenes of entertainment of the like kind 
 offer themselves, but of a much inferior class, on 
 the Eure and its tributary streams, especially 
 towards its source; such as those of Bowbridge, 
 Hardrow Foss, Whitfield, and Mill Gills near 
 Askrigg, and Foss Gill in Bishopdale, which, 
 however capitally pleasing they might prove in 
 
NOTES. SIT 
 
 k!iy other pail, appear dimiiiislie/ 1 when put in 
 comparison with those already remarked. 
 
 The scenery of rock and hangin:^ shrubs, which 
 accompanies the cascade at Ilardrow, is truly 
 magniticcnt. in the memuiable; frost of 1739, 
 the water formed a surprising column or ici^e, 
 which attracted mvMiy per.scns from remote dis- 
 tances to see it, measuring iu height 90 fes*, and 
 as much in cirumierence, Mr. Maude 
 
 Aysgarth is a village delightfully situated oa 
 the river Eure, about four miles east of Askrigg. 
 The bridge belongiiig to it was built in 1530, as 
 appears from a stone tablet on it, bearing that 
 date; yet the extraordinary beauty of the sur- 
 rounding scene, the foaming cascade seen beneath 
 its arch, and the shrubs and trees with which it 
 is shaded and adorned, all join to compensate for 
 its want of anticpiity. Besides it must be alloived, 
 that considering the time when it was built, and 
 the place where situated, it is by no means a 
 contemptible performance; being a large segment 
 of a circle, rising near 32 feet, and spinning 71, 
 and has in general an appearance of lightness, 
 that would not discredit the work of a mo Jem 
 artist. 
 
 In this parish is situated a very ancient ednce, 
 called Nappa, " being noticed " says Mr. Maude, 
 *' by Leland and other succeeding historians, 
 which, by the termination, favours a conjectur^i of 
 
il8 NOTES. 
 
 its being of IIo man orijgin. It belongs to William 
 Weddell, Esq.; and is situated under a crag, in 
 all the gloomy privacy of monastic taste; having 
 embrazures upo-n the top, which give it a miH- 
 tary air, in thr bow and arrow stile, but must- 
 tiave been intended only for ornament, as tlio 
 building wanted both strength and situation for 
 defence, being small and liable to be commanded 
 from an overlooking cliff, even by the most impo- 
 tent weapons of attack in the days of its erection. 
 However, there is character and plantation 
 enough abouU the house, always to command 
 the stranger's eye, and lead the traveller to enquire- 
 after some accsount of the place." 
 
 " This was the seat of tl:e Metcalfs, a very 
 ancient family, of which Camden makes honour- 
 able mention. The last heir of this family was 
 Thomas Metcalf, Esq. barrister, a most excellent 
 magistrate, a man of amiable qualities, and an 
 ornament to his country. He lived at Nappa, 
 preferring rural tranquillity to the war of wordf^ 
 and the bustling scenes of life, dying a bachelor. 
 1756, in the 71st year of his age." 
 
 The family of INIetcalf, it is said, was at one 
 time the most numerous in England. Sir Chris- 
 topher IMetcalf, kut. chief of the family, being 
 high-sheriff in the year 1555, was attended by 300 
 horsemen, all of his own family and name, and 
 all in the same habit, to meet the judges of assize, 
 and conduct them to \ ork. 
 
NOTES. 119 
 
 III the parish of Aysgavth is Askrigg, situate 
 «n the banks of the Eure; it is a place of great 
 antiquity, and is now fallen to decay. The prin- 
 cipal inn was once the mansion of the late John 
 Pratt, Esq. well known on the turf. 
 
 Not far from Askrigg is the pleasant village of 
 Bainbridge, at the confluence of the Eui'c and the 
 little river Baints, from which its name is derived. 
 Here was anciently a Roman garrison, of which 
 siome remains are still visible; for, upon the hill 
 c ailed Burgh, there are the ground work^ of a 
 fortification, about five acres in compass; and, 
 «i) der it, to the east, are the evident remains of 
 the foundations of a number of houses, amongst 
 whi ch several monuments of Roman antiquity 
 have been found. A fragment with an inscription 
 was ti' vig up here some years ago ; it had a winged 
 Victory? supporting it; by which inscription, it is 
 suppose 'd the 6th cohort of the Nervi had their 
 summer camp here. A statue of Aurelius Com- 
 modus, \ ?lth an inscription, was also found here, 
 V^hich wa s preserved by 31r. Metcalf of Nappa. 
 
 Ed. 
 
 Note XV. 
 
 So lestons Ev te : a hapless exile she, 
 
 Proscrih'd hi t realm, nnleagued with the sea. Page 42. 
 
 The river E< *re, Ure, Jore, or Yore, as it is 
 differently name "d, arises from a mountain called 
 
n^i NOTES. 
 
 Cotter, the extremity of the north-west part of 
 Yorkshire, which hill divides that county from 
 Westmorland. The river having passed near 
 the market-towns of Askrigg, Middleham, Mas- 
 ham, Ripon, and Borou^hbridge, terminates at 
 the distance of a few miles, and loses its name 
 in the Ouse, there little better than a rill, near the 
 village of Ousebourn, whose waters pass through 
 York, and at length fall into the river Humber. 
 
 So pleasing a river as the Eure, being cancellecB 
 by the Ouse in its farther progress, that river 
 which dignihes the scenes o-f Wensley-Dale and 
 Hackfall, is a circumstance that provokes the 
 poet's ire and exclamation. At what period this 
 reform took place, we have not been able to deter- 
 mine; but there is a strong presumption that the 
 river which now washes the walls of York, was 
 anciently called Eure or Yore, whence tVie city 
 seems to have received its name, the county 
 being called in domesday-book Eurevickscire. 
 Hence Eure-wick, Yore-wick, or the town upon 
 the Eure. Mr, Maude. 
 
 Note XVI. 
 
 Anchored at Wenslei/ I no phantomn court, 
 Mypastime authors, and my business sport. Page 48. 
 
 The village of Wensley, is sit'i»ated nearly in 
 the centre of Wensleydale, and gives name to 
 
NOTES. Hi 
 
 the whole vale. It is about three miles west from 
 Middleham, and ahout a mile and three-quarters 
 south-west from Ley h urn. ■ 
 
 The church at Wensley, about the center of the 
 Vale, contains the simiptuous and ancient pew of 
 the .Scropes, brouglit from saint 8t. Agatha near 
 Richraoiul, at the dissolution of that Ahbey. 
 
 As the insciiptions have long been giving way 
 to time and accident, to preserve their remains 
 the following extracts were made from a folio 
 manuscript in the Herald's Office, compiled by 
 Sir William Dugdale, a copy of which is in the 
 British Museum. 
 
 Wencelagh 1 8 Octobr. 1622. 
 
 Sculptum super quandam ligneam Clausuram a 
 
 Caenobio Stje. Agatha> juxta Richmond quondam . 
 
 dissoluto, delatam. 
 
 " Here lyeth Henry Scrope, Knight, the 7th of 
 that Nayme, and Mabell his Wyffe, Daughter to 
 the Lord Dakers, de Grays : Here lyeth Henry 
 Scrope, Knight, the third of that Name, and the 
 Right Lord Scrope of Bolton, and Elizabeth his 
 Wife, Daughter of 
 
 Super Lapidem marmoreum. 
 " Hoc teguntur humo Henricus Scrop, Ricar- 
 dusq; Domini Henrici De Bolton et Mabell?e 
 Q 
 
m NOTES. 
 
 Uxoris sua? minores' Natu liberi : Quorum alter 
 xxvo. (lie decessil raartii, alter xxviijo. July, anno 
 Domini M.D.XXV." 
 
 In a burial vault made by the Marquis of Win- 
 chester who is already cited, lies alone, his Mar- 
 chioness, the family having never resided at the 
 mansion, since the reign of James the second, but 
 in a transient way. 
 
 Before the memorialist quits his theme and the 
 village, may he be permitted to pay his conclusive 
 homage and say, with that tender friend who has 
 so long ripened by his side, 
 
 O ! let us here, our peaceful vespers keep, 
 And lastly in this hallow'd bosom sleep. 
 
 Mr. Maude. 
 
 th6 end. 
 
 Richmond: 
 Printed by T. Bowman. 
 
Speedily will be published^ 
 
 A 
 
 SEQUEL 
 
 TO 
 
 "WENSLEYDALE," 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 Bt/ O. Lambert. 
 
 Price 6d. or on large paper, Is. 
 
 Printed by and for T. Fall, Leyburn ; 
 
 Sold also by T. Bowman, Richmond; and Longman, Hurst, 
 
 Rces, Orme, and Bronn, London. 
 
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