Lake country sketchesRawnsley, H. D. (Hardwicke Drummond)
General
Lake country sketches
Rawnsley, H. D. (Hardwicke Drummond)
Lake District (England); Wordsworth, William, 1770-1850 -- Homes and haunts -- England -- Lake District
And as they thought of what he has been to them for the last 65 years
in the Threlkeld vale, they admitted the truth of the following words:
Last hunter of your race!
As we bear you to your place,
We forget the hounds and horn,
But the tears are on our face,
For we mind your deeds of grace,
Loving-kindness, late and early, unto all the village-born.
{207}
A WINTER-DAY ON DERWENTWATER.
If November is the month for cloud effect, December certainly is the
month for marvellous dawns and eventides. Then it would appear as if
by some generous intent to give the minds of men unwonted
tranquillity and to impress all the dwellers in the vales with the
thought of perfect restfulness, the sun seems to prepare for his
rising a heaven of cloudless silver washed with faintest gold. All
the heavy ragged companies of the night-wrack seem withdrawn, and
very slowly, while Helvellyn stands lilac-grey against the silver
dawn, the sun rolls into sight, kindles the cones of Grisedale and
Grasmoor, and bids the heavy dew upon the valley meadows rise up in
finest lines of delicate gossamer lawn.
Yesterday, though we had little wind in the valley, one could hear
the humming and the {208} roaring of what seemed a tempest in middle
heaven, but at night-time heaven and earth were still, and the seven
stars in Orion and the Pleiads, 'like fireflies tangled in a silver
braid,' shone clear, and we felt that the Frost King had come in
earnest. There was no snow on the hills this morning; the leaves at
one's feet tinkled as though they were made of iron; I met schoolboys
with rosy faces and skates upon their shoulders going off to Tewfit
Tarn--the little tarn upon the ridge dividing Naddle from St. John's
in the Vale, that always gives our skaters in the Keswick
neighbourhood their first winter happiness. Down to the lake I went,
and standing at Friar's Crag, saw that part of it was burnished steel
and part black ebon water. It was incredible that one night's frost
should thus have partly sealed the lake from sight.
[Illustration: A WINTER'S DAY ON DERWENTWATER.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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