258 The River Duddon. A SERIES OF SONNETS. ADVERTISEMENT. THE RIVER DUDDON rises upon Wrynose Fell, on the confines of Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire; and, serving as a boundary to the two last counties, for the space of about twenty-five miles, enters the Irish Sea, between the Isle of Walney and the Lordship of Millum. Yes, they can make, who fail to find, That through the clouds do sometimes steal, Hence, while the imperial city's din I. NOT envying shades which haply yet may A grateful coolness round that rocky spring, III. How shall I paint thee?--Be this naked stone ment, Pleased could my verse, a speaking monu Heedless of Alpine torrents thundering I seek the birthplace of a native stream. Better to breathe upon this aery height Pure flow the verse, pure, vigorous, free, For Duddon, long-loved Duddon is my theme! II. CHILD of the clouds! remote from every taint Of sordid industry thy lot is cast; No meaner poet than the whistling blast, not spare Those mighty forests, once the bison's screen, care; SOLE listener, Duddon ! to the breeze that Unfruitful solitudes, that seemed to upbraid *The deer alluded to is the Leigh, a gigantic Wafted o'er sullen moss and craggy mound, species long since extinct. zone IX. THE STEPPING-STONES. THE struggling rill insensibly is grown Into a brook of loud and stately march, And, for like use, lo! what might seem a Crossed ever and anon by plank and arch; Chosen for ornament: stone matched with [stone In studied symmetry, with interspace For the clear waters to pursue their race Without restraint.-How swiftly have they 'flown, [child Succeeding still succeeding! Here the Puts, when the high-swoln flood runs fierce and wild, [here His budding courage to the proof;-and Declining manhood learns to note the sly And sure encroachments of infirmity, Thinking how fast time runs, life's end how near ! No fiction was it of the antique age; Dancing with all their brilliant equipage Of some sweet babe, flower stolen, and coarse weed left For the distracted mother to assuage Is traceable a vestige of the notes floats O'er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer? XII. HINTS FOR THE FANCY. ON, loitering muse- the swift stream chides us-on! Albeit his deep-worn channel doth immure And the solidities of mortal pride, Shall find such toys of fancy thickly set ;- must; And, if thou canst, leave them without regret ! |