And there where all lies wild and bare-- Where mountains rise and waters flow, From Langdale's summits high in air, To Brathay pools that sleep below-- A green that never fades, one grove Of brightest laurels rears its boughs; While o'er that home's foundations rove The wild cats, and the asses browse. There, if the song birds come, their notes Are hushed, that nowhere else are still: And when the winds pipe loud, and floats The mist-cloud down from Dungeon-Ghyll, Again the cottage-eaves arise Within it, as of old, serene,-- Its lights shine forth, its smoke up flies, And fades the grove of laurels green. But dimly falls the gleam of morn Around it; on the ferns the shade Of evening leaves a look forlorn That elsewhere Nature has not laid. So, lonely on its height, so, drear, It stands, while seasons wax and fail, Unchanged amid the changing year, The voiceless mystery of the vale. NOTES TO "THE LAURELS ON LINGMOOR." There seems to have been a long hereditary emulation among the inhabitants of these districts to raise their sons beyond the situation of their birth; a laudable practice, but one which until recent times was clouded by a comparative neglect of their daughters, whose education at the best was very indifferent. Hence many of these youths have risen to be respectable merchants, whose early circumstances compelled them to toil for their daily bread, and to be educated in night schools taught during the winter by a village schoolmaster, a parish clerk, or some industrious mechanic. Dr. Todd states, that in his time it was reported that Sir Richard Whittington, knight, thrice Lord Mayor of London, was born of poor parents in the parish of Great Salkeld, in East Cumberland; that he built the church and tower from the foundation; and that he intended to present three large bells to the parish, which by some mischance stopped at Kirkby-Stephen on their way to Salkeld. And a similar tradition is yet current in the neighbourhood. Less apocryphal, perhaps, is the instance of Richard Bateman, a native of the township of Staveley, near Windermere; who, being a clever lad, was sent by the inhabitants to London, and there by his diligence and industry raised himself from a very humble situation in his master's house to be a partner in his business, and amassed a considerable fortune. For some years he resided at Leghorn; but his end was tragical. It is said, that in his voyage to England, the captain of the vessel in which he was sailing, poisoned him and seized the ship and cargo. The pretty little Chapel of Ings, in the vicinity where he was born, was erected at his expense, and the slabs of marble with which it is floored were sent by him from Leghorn. Hodgson states, that he gave twelve pounds a year to the