|
|
Page 93:-
[ma]jestically rude, and near it, Shuttenoer, a spiral rock not
less in height, hanging more forward over its base. Betwixt
these, an awful chasm is formed, through which the waters of
Watanlath are hurled. This is the Niagara of the lake, the
renowned cataract of Lowdore [1]. To see this, ascend to an
opening in the grove, directly over the mill. It is the
misfortune of this celebrated water-fall to fail entirely in a
dry season. The wonderful scenes, peculiar to this part, continue
to the gorge of Borrowdale [2], and higher; and Castle-crag may
be seen, in the centre of the amphitheatre, threatening to block
up the pass it once defended. The village of Grange is under it,
celebrated as well for its hospitality to Mr. Gray, as for its
sweet romantic site. And to affirm that all that Mr. Gray says of
the young farmer at Grange, is strictly applicable to the
inhabitants of these mountainous regions in general, is but
common justice done to the memory of repeated favours.
- Hail sacred flood!
May still thy hospitable swains be blest
In rural innocence; thy mountains still
Teem with the fleecy race; thy tuneful woods
For ever flourish: and thy vales look gay.
Armstrong on Health.
|