Scott, of course, stood on the top of the hill looking
down on the Tarn, with Striding Edge on his right.
Alas! no "eagles" are ever "yelling" on the mountain,
nor "brown mountain heather" is in sight--only common
mountain grass.
On the top of Helvellyn she wrote the following lines in a
sketch-book:--
How softly the winds of the mountains are saying,
"No chamber of death is Helvellyn's dark brow;"
On the "rough rocky edge" are the fleecy flocks straying,
And "Red Tarn" gleams bright with a thousand stars now.
The "huge nameless rook" has no gloom in its shadow;
It catches the sun, it has found it a name;
And the mountain grass covers like the turf of the meadow
The arms of Helvellyn and Catchedecan.
There is not on earth a dark city's enclosure,
Or vast mountain waste, where the traveller may roam,
That peace may not soothe with its balmy composure,
And love may not bless with the joy of a home!
To her sister.
ULVERSTON, 15th of 9th Month, 1851.
MY BELOVED M.:--
Thy very welcome letter yesterday met me
soon, after returning from Swarthmore, where, of course,
we had a very different assembly from yours.
It was very interesting, having been at Pardsey Crags
last week, where the thousands had listened to George
Fox's preaching, now to see Swarthmore and remember
how things used to be when he "left the north fresh
and green;" but G.
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