In the neighbourhood of Egremont, there is a romantic hill called Wotobank, with which a traditionary story is connected, and from which its name is said to have originated. The tale relates that "a lord of Egremont, with his lady Edwina and servants, was hunting the wolf; during the chase, the lady was missing, and after a long and painful search, her body was found lying on this romantic acclivity, or bank, mangled by a wolf, which was in the very act of ravenously tearing it to pieces. The sorrow of the husband, in the first transports of his grief, was expressed by the words--"Wo to this bank!"--whence the hill obtained the name of "Wotobank." Mrs. Cowley has adopted this legend for the subject of her beautiful poem "Edwina." After ascending Skiddaw, and casting a glance around:-- "Here--across the tangley dells; There--on the misty distant fells," the poetess thus proceeds:-- --"But chiefly, Ennerdale, to thee I turn, And o'er thy healthful vales heart-rended mourn! --For ah! those plains, those vales, those sheltering woods, Nourish'd by Bassenthwaite's contiguous floods, Once witness'd such a sad and heavy deed As makes the aching memory recede." Then introducing the Lord of Ennerdale, she continues:-- "He, the sole heir of Atheling was known, Whose blood, stern Scotland! 'midst thy heaths has flown. Not five and twenty summers o'er his head Had led their orbs, when he preferr'd to wed The sweet Edwina. Blooming were the charms Which her fond father gave to Henry's arms. Long had he woo'd the charming, bashful maid, Who, yet to listen to Love's tales afraid, By many modest arts--(so Love ordains) Increas'd his passion, though increas'd his pains. At length the nuptial morn burst from the sky, Bidding prismatic light before her fly; Soft purple radiance streamed around her car, Absorbing all the beams of every star;-- Roses awaken'd as she pass'd along, And the high lark perform'd his soaring song, Whilst pinks, their fragrance shaking on the air, The proud carnation's glories seem'd to share; The breezes snatch'd their odours as they flew, And gave them in their turn pellucid dew, Which fed their colours to a higher tone, Till all the earth a vegetative rainbow shone.