“From Penigent’s proud foot as from my source I slide, That mountain, my proud sire, in height of all his pride, Takes pleasure in my course as in his first-born flood, And Ingleborrough too, of that Olympian brood, And Pendle, of the north, the highest hill that be, Do wistly me behold, and are beheld of me. These mountains make me proud, to gaze on me that stand, So Longridge, once arrived on the Lancastrian strand, Salutes me, and with smiles me to his soil invites, So have I many a flood that forward me excites, As Hodder that from Home attends me from my spring, Then Calder, coming down from Blackstonedge doth bring Me easily on my way to Preston, the greatest town Wherewith my banks are blest, where, at my going down, Clear Darwen on along me to the sea doth drive, And in my spacious fall no sooner I arrive, But Savock to the north from Longridge making way To this my greatness adds, when in my ample bay, Swart Dulas coming in from Wigan, with her aids, Short Taud and Dartow small, two little country maids, In these low watery lands and moory mosses bred, Do see me safely laid in mighty Neptune’s bed, And cutting in my course, even through the heart Of this renowned shire, so equally it part, As nature should have said, lo! thus I meant to do, This flood divides this shire, thus equally in two.” The beautiful scenery and historical associations of the Ribble render it the most interesting and charming of the several rivers which water the county of Lancaster. The quietude of its fair valley has on more than one occasion been rudely broken by the clash of arms, and students of our country’s history will readily call to mind that calamitous day to the Duke of Hamilton, when Cromwell routed the Highlanders under his command, near Preston, “And Darwen stream with blood of Scots imbrued.”