The poet Gray, author of _The Elegy in a Country Churchyard_, in his tour of 1769, and Gilpin, in search of the picturesque, in 1772, did not seem to hear of Coniston as worth seeing. The earliest literary description is that of Thomas West, the Scotch Roman-Catholic priest, who wrote the _Antiquities of Furness_ in 1774. He illustrated his book with a map "As Survey'd by Wm. Brasier 1745," in which are marked Coniston Kirk, Hall, Waterhead, Townend, Thurston Water, Piel I., Nibthwaite, Furnace, Nibthwaite Grange, Blawith Chap., Waterycot (by obvious error for "yeat"), Oxenhouse, Torver Kirk, Torver Wood (Hoathwaite), New Brig (the old pack-horse bridge), White Maidens, Blind Tarn, Goat's Tarn, Low Water, Lever Water, and so on, giving names in use 150 years ago. West says:--"The village of Coniston consists of scattered houses; many of them have a most romantic appearance owing to the ground they stand on being extremely steep." Later editions add:--"Some are snow white, others grey ... they are all neatly covered with blue slate, the produce of the mountains, beautified with ornamental yews, hollies, and tall pines or firs." Mrs. Ann Radcliffe, author of the _Mysteries of Udolpho_ and other romantic novels, came here in 1794 or earlier; and after describing the Rhine, and all the other lakes, found Thurston Lake "one of the most interesting, and perhaps the most beautiful," though she took the Hall for a Priory, and sentimentalised about the "solemn vesper that once swelled along the lake from these consecrated walls, and awakened, perhaps, the enthusiasm of the voyager, while evening stole upon the scene." Conishead, not Coniston, was the Priory; the confusion between the two has been often made. With fuller knowledge and from no hasty glance, Wordsworth soon afterwards described the same spot (_Prelude_, VIII.):-- A grove there is whose boughs Stretch from the western marge of Thurston mere With length of shade so thick that whoso glides Along the line of low-roofed water, moves As in a cloister. Once--while in that shade Loitering I watched the golden beams of light Flung from the setting sun, as they reposed In silent beauty on the naked ridge Of a high eastern hill--thus flowed my thoughts In a pure stream of words fresh from the heart: Dear native regions, wheresoe'er shall close My mortal course, there will I think on you.... Need I quote farther the famous outburst of patriotism?--it was our lake that roused it. And another great enthusiasm was stirred by our Coniston Fells.