The Twenty-sixth Song

Three Shires at once this Song assayes,
By various and vnvsuall wayes.
At Nottingham first comming in,
The Vale of Beuer doth begin;
Tow'rds Lester then her course shee holds,
And sayling o'r the pleasant Oulds,
Shee fetcheth Soare downe from her Springs,
By Charnwood, which to Trent shee brings,
Then showes the Braueries of that Flood,
Makes Sherwood sing her Robin Hood;
Then rouzes vp the aged Peake,
And of her Wonders makes her speake:
Thence Darwin downe by Darby tends,
And at her fall, to Trent, it ends.

NOw scarcely on this Tract the Muse had entrance made,
Enclining to the South, but Beuers batning Slade
Receiueth her to Guest, whose comming had too long
Put off her rightfull praise, when thus her selfe she sung.

Three Shires there are (quoth she) in me their parts that claime,
Large Lincolne, Rutland Rich, and th'Norths Eye Nottingham.
But in the last of these since most of me doth lye,
To that my most-lou'd Shire my selfe I must apply.

Not Eusham that proud Nymph, although she still pretend
Her selfe the first of Vales, and though abroad she send
Her awfull dread Command, that all should tribute pay
To her as our great Queene; nor White-horse, though her Clay
Of siluer seeme to be, new melted, nor the Vale
Of Alsbury, whose grasse seemes giuen out by tale,
For it so Silken is, nor any of our kind,
Or what, or where they be, or howsoere inclind,
Me Beuer shall out braue, that in my state doe scorne,
By any of them all (once) to be ouerborne,
With theirs, doe but compare the Country where I lye,
My Hill, and Oulds will say, they are the Islands eye.
Consider next my Scite, and say it doth excell;
Then come vnto my Soyle, and you shall see it swell,
With euery Grasse and Graine, that Britaine forth can bring:
I challenge any Vale, to shew me but that thing
I cannot shew to her, (that truly is mine owne)
Besides I dare thus boast, that I as farre am knowne,
As any of them all, the South their names doth sound,
The spacious North doth mee, that there is scarcely found
A roomth for any else, it is so fild with mine,
Which but a little wants of making me diuine:
Nor barren am of Brookes, for that I still reteine
Two neat and daintie Rills, the little Snyte, and Deane,
That from the louely Oulds, their beautious parent sprong
From the Lecestrian fields, come on with me along,
Till both within one Banke, they on my North are meint,
And where I end, they fall, at Newarck, into Trent.

Hence wandring as the Muse delightfully beholds
The beautie of the large, and goodly full-flockd Oulds,
Shee on the left hand […] old Lecester, and flyes,
Vntill the fertile earth glut her insatiate eyes,
From Rich to Richer still, that […] her before,
Vntill shee come to cease vpon the head of Soare,
Where Fosse, and Watling cut each other in their course
At Sharnford, where at first her soft and gentle sourse,
To her but shallow Bankes, beginneth to repayre,
Of all this beautious Isle, the delicatest ayre;
Whence softly sallying out, as loath the place to leaue,
Shee Sence a pretty Rill doth courteously receiue:
For Swift, a little Brooke, which certainly shee thought
Downe to the Banks of Trent, would safely her haue brought,
Because their natiue Springs so neerely were allyde,
Her sister Soare forsooke, and wholly her applide
To Auon, as with her continually to keepe,
And wayt on her along to the Sabrinian deepe.

Thus with her hand-mayd Sence, the Soare doth eas'ly slide
By Lecester, where yet her ruines show her pride,
Demolisht many yeares, that of the great foundation
Of her long buried walls, men hardly see the station;
Yet of some pieces found, so sure the Cyment locks
The stones, that they remaine like perdurable rocks:
Where whilst the louely Soare, with many a deare imbrace,
Is solacing her selfe with this delightfull place,
The Forrest, which the name of that braue Towne doth beare,
With many a goodly wreath, crownes her disheueld hayre,
And in her gallant Greene, her lusty Liuery showes
Her selfe to this faire Flood, which mildly as shee flowes,
Reciprocally likes her length and breadth to see,
As also how shee keepes her fertile purlues free:
The Herds of Fallow Deere shee on the Launds doth feed,
As hauing in her selfe to furnish euery need.
But now since gentle Soare, such leasure seemes to take,
The Muse in her behalfe this strong defence doth make,
Against the neighbour floods, for that which tax her so,
And her a Channell call, because she is so slow.
The cause is that shee lyes vpon so low a Flat,
Where nature most of all befriended her in that,
The longer to enioy the good she doth possesse:
For had those (with such speed that forward seeme to presse)
So many dainty Meads, and Pastures theirs to be,
They then would wish themselues to be as slow as she,
Who well may be compar'd to some young tender Mayd,
Entring some Princes Court, which is for pompe arayd,
Who led from roome to roome amazed is to see
The furnitures and states, which all Imbroyderies be,
The rich and sumptuous Beds, with Tester-couering plumes,
And various as the Sutes, so various the persumes,
Large Galleries, where piece with piece doth seeme to striue,
Of Pictures done to life, Landskip, and Perspectiue,
Thence goodly Gardens sees, where Antique Statues stand
In Stone and Copper, cut by many a skilfull hand,
Where euery thing to gaze, her more and more entices,
Thinking at once shee sees a thousand Paradices,
Goes softly on, as though before she saw the last,
She long'd againe to see, what she had slightly past.
So the enticing Soyle the Soare along doth lead,
As wondring in her selfe, at many a spacious Mead;
When Charnwood from the rocks salutes her wished sight,
(Of many a Wood-god woo'd) her darling and delight,
Whose beautie whilst that Soare is pawsing to behold
Cleere Wreakin comming in, from Waltham on the Ould,
Brings Eye, a pretty Brooke, to beare her siluer traine,
Which on by Melton make, and tripping o'r the Plaine,
Here finding her surpriz'd with proud Mount-Sorrels sight,
By quickning of her Course, more eas'ly doth inuite
Her to the goodly Trent, where as she goes along
By Loughborough, she thus of that faire Forrest sung.

O Charnwood, be thou cald the choycest of thy kind,
The like in any place, what Flood hath hapt to find?
No Tract in all this Isle, the proudest let her be,
Can shew a Syluan Nymph, for beautie like to thee:
The Satyrs, and the Fawnes, by Dian set to keepe,
Rough Hilles, and Forrest holts, were sadly seene to weepe,
When thy high-palmed Harts the sport of Bowes and Hounds,
By gripple Borderers hands, were banished thy grounds.
The Driades that were wont about thy Lawnes to roue,
To trip from Wood to Wood, and scud from Groue to Groue,
On Sharpley that were seene, and Cadmans aged rocks,
Against the rising Sunne, to brayd their siluer locks;
And with the harmelesse Elues, on Heathy Bardons height,
By Cynthia's colder beames to play them night by night,
Exil'd their sweet aboad, to poore bare Commons fled,
They with the Okes that liu'd, now with the Okes are dead.
Who will describe to life, a Forrest, let him take
Thy Surface to himselfe, nor shall he need to make
An other forme at all, where oft in thee is found
Fine sharpe but easie Hills, which reuerently are crownd
With aged Antique Rocks, to which the Goats and Sheepe,
(To him that stands remoat) doe softly seeme to creepe,
To gnaw the little shrubs, on their steepe sides that grow;
Vpon whose other part, on some descending Brow,
Huge stones are hanging out, as though they downe would drop,
Where vnder-growing Okes, on their old shoulders prop
The others hory heads, which still seeme to decline,
And in a Dimble neere, (euen as a place diuine,
For Contemplation fit) an Iuy-seeled Bower,
As Nature had therein ordayn'd some Syluan power;
As men may very oft at great Assemblies see,
Where many of most choyce, and wondred Beauties be:
For Stature one doth seeme the best away to beare;
Another for her Shape, to stand beyond compare;
Another for the fine composure of a face:
Another short of these, yet for a modest grace
Before them all preferd; amongst the rest yet one,
Adiudg'd by all to bee, so perfect Paragon,
That all those parts in her together simply dwell,
For which the other doe so seuerally excell.
My Charnwood like the last, hath in her selfe alone,
What excellent can be in any Forrest showne,

On whom when thus the Soare had these high praises spent,
She easily slid away into her Soueraigne Trent,
Who hauing wandred long, at length began to leaue
Her natiue Countries bounds, and kindly doth receiue
The lesser Tame, and Messe, the Messe a daintie Rill,
Neere Charnwood rising first, where she begins to fill
Her Banks, which all her course on both sides doe abound
With Heath and Finny olds, and often gleaby ground,
Till Croxals fertill earth doth comfort her at last
When shee is entring Trent; but I was like t'aue past
The other Sence, whose source doth rise not farre from hers,
By Ancor, that her selfe to famous Trent prefers,
The second of that name, allotted to this Shire,
A name but hardly found in any place but here;
Nor is to many knowne, this Country that frequent.

But Muse returne at last, attend the princely Trent,
Who straining on in state, the Norths imperious Flood,
The third of England cald, with many a daintie Wood,
Being crown'd to Burton comes, to Needwood where she showes
Her selfe in all her pompe; and as from thence she flowes,
Shee takes into her Traine rich Doue, and Darwin cleere,
Darwin, whose fount and fall are both in Darbysheere;
And of those thirtie Floods, that wayt the Trent vpon,
Doth stand without compare, the very Paragon.

Thus wandring at her will, as vncontrould shee ranges,
Her often varying forme, as variously and changes.
First Erwash, and then Lyne, sweet Sherwood sends her in;
Then looking wyde, as one that newly wak'd had bin,
Saluted from the North, with Nottinghams proud height,
So strongly is surpriz'd, and taken with the sight,
That shee from running wild, but hardly can refraine,
To view in how great state, as she along doth straine,
That braue exalted seat, beholdeth her in pride,
As how the large-spread Meads vpon the other side,
All flourishing in Flowers, and rich embroyderies drest,
In which she sees her selfe aboue her neighbours blest.
As rap'd with the delights, that her this Prospect brings,
In her peculiar praise, loe thus the Riuer sings.

What should I care at all, from what my name I take,
That Thirtie doth import, that thirty Riuers make;
My greatnesse what it is, or thirty Abbayes great,
That on my fruitfull Banks, times formerly did seat:
Or thirtie kinds of Fish, that in my Streames doe liue,
To me this name of Trent did from that number giue.
What reack I: let great Thames, since by his fortune he
Is Soueraigne of vs all that here in Britaine be;
From Isis, and Old Tame, his Pedigree deriue:
And for the second place, proud Seuerne that doth striue,
Fetch her discent from Wales, from that proud Mountaine sprung,
Plinillimon, whose praise is frequent them among,
As of that princely Mayd, whose name she boasts to beare,
Bright Sabrin, which she holds as her vndoubted heyre.
Let these imperious Floods draw downe their long discent
From these so famous Stocks, and only say of Trent,
That Moorelands barren earth me first to light did bring,
Which though she be but browne, my cleere complexiond Spring,
Gain'd with the Nymphs such grace, that when I first did rise,
The Naiades on my brim, danc'd wanton Hydagies,
And on her spacious breast, with Heaths that doth abound)
Encircled my faire Fount with many a lustie round:
And of the British Floods, though but the third I be,
Yet Thames, and Seuerne both in this come short of me,
For that I am the Mere of England, that diuides
The North part from the South, on my so either sides,
That reckoning how these Tracts in compasse be extent,
Men bound them on the North, or on the South of Trent;
Their Banks are barren Sands, if but compar'd with mine,
Through my perspicuous Breast, the pearly Pebbles shine:
I throw my Christall Armes along the Flowry Vallies,
Which lying sleeke, and smooth, as any Garden-Allies,
Doe giue me leaue to play, whilst they doe Court my Streame,
And crowne my winding banks with many an Anademe:
My Siluer-scaled Skuls about my Streames doe sweepe,
Now in the shallow foords, now in the falling Deepe:
So that of euery kind, the new-spawn'd numerous Frie
Seeme in me as the Sands that on my Shore doe lye.
The Barbell, then which Fish, a brauer doth not swimme,
Nor greater for the Ford within my spacious brimme,
Nor (newly taken) more the curious taste doth please;
The Greling, whose great Spawne is big as any Pease;
The Pearch with pricking Finnes, against the Pike prepar'd,
As Nature had there on bestow'd this stronger guard,
His daintinesse to keepe, (each curious pallats proofe)
From his vile rauenous foe: next him I name the Ruffe,
His very neere Ally, and both for scale and Fin,
In taste, and for his Bayte (indeed) his next of kin;
The pretty slender Dare, of many cald the Dace,
Within my liquid glasse, when Phebus lookes his face,
Oft swiftly as he swimmes, his siluer belly showes,
But with such nimble slight, that ere yee can disclose
His shape, out of your sight like lightning he is shot.
The Trout by Nature markt with many a Crimson spot,
As though shee curious were in him aboue the rest,
And of fresh-water Fish, did note him for the best;
The Roche, whose common kind to euery Flood doth fall;
The Chub, (whose neater name) which some a Cheuin call,
Food to the Tyrant Pyke, (most being in his power)
Who for their numerous store he most doth them deuoure;
The lustie Salmon then, from Neptunes watry Realme,
When as his season serues, stemming my tydefull Streame,
Then being in his kind, in me his pleasure takes,
(For whom the Fisher then all other Game forsakes)
Which bending of himselfe to th'fashion of a Ring,
Aboue the forced Weares, himselfe doth nimbly fling,
And often when the Net hath dragd him safe to land,
Is seene by naturall force to scape his murderers hand;
Whose graine doth rise in flakes, with fatnesse interlarded,
Of many a liquorish lip, that highly is regarded.
And Humber, to whose waste I pay my watry store,
Me of her Sturgeons sends, that I thereby the more
Should haue my beauties grac'd, with some thing from him sent:
Not Ancums siluered Eele exceedeth that of Trent;
Though the sweet-smelling Smelt be more in Thames then me,
The Lamprey, and his Lesse, in Seuerne generall be;
The Flounder smooth and flat, in other Riuers caught,
Perhaps in greater store, yet better are not thought:
The daintie Gudgcon, Loche, the Minnow, and the Bleake,
Since they but little are, I little need to speake
Of them, nor doth it fit mee much of those to reck,
Which euery where are found in euery little Beck;
Nor of the Crayfish here, which creepes amongst my stones,
From all the rest alone, whose shell is all his bones:
For Carpe, the Tench, and Breame, my other store among,
To Lakes and standing Pooles, that chiefly doe belong,
Here scowring in my Foards, feed in my waters cleere,
Are muddy Fish in Ponds to that which they are heere.

From Nottingham, neere which this Riuer first begun,
This Song, she the meane while, by Newarke hauing run,
Receiuing little Snyte, from Beuers batning grounds,
At Gaynsborough goes out, where the Lincolnian bounds.
Yet Sherwood all this while not satisfi'd to show
Her loue to princely Trent, as downward shee doth flow,
Her Meden and her Man, shee downe from Mansfield sends
To Idle for her ayd, by whom she recommends
Her loue to that braue Queene of waters, her to meet,
When she tow'rds Humber comes, do humbly kisse her feet,
And clip her till shee grace great Humber with her fall.
When Sherwood somewhat backe, the forward Muse doth call;
For shee was let to know, that Soare had in her Song
So chanted Charnwoods worth, the Riuers that along,
Amongst the neighbouring Nymphs, there was no other Layes,
But those which seem'd to sound of Charnwood, and her praise:
Which Sherwood tooke to heart, and very much disdain'd,
(As one that had both long, and worthily maintain'd
The title of the great'st, and brauest of her kind)
To fall so farre below, one wretchedly confin'd
Within a furlongs space, to her large skirts compar'd:
Wherefore shee as a Nymph that neither fear'd, nor car'd
For ought to her might chance, by others loue or hate,
With Resolution arm'd, against the power of Fate,
All selfe-praise set apart, determineth to sing
That lustie Robin Hood, who long time like a King
Within her compasse liu'd, and when he lift to range
For some rich Booty set, or else his ayre to change,
To Sherwood still retyr'd, his onely standing Court,
Whose praise the Forrest thus doth pleasantly report.

The merry pranks he playd, would aske an age to tell,
And the aduentures strange that Robin Hood befell,
When Mansfield many a time for Robin hath bin layd,
How he hath cosned them, that him would haue betrayd;
How often he hath come to Nottingham disguisd,
And cunningly escapt, being set to be surprizd.
In this our spacious Isle, I thinke there is not one,
But he hath heard some talke of him and little Iohn;
And to the end of time, the Tales shall ne'r be done,
Of Scarlock, George a Greene, and Much the Millers sonne,
Of Tuck the merry Frier, which many a Sermon made,
In praise of Robin Hood, his Out-lawes, and their Trade.
An hundred valiant men had this braue Robin Hood,
Still ready at his call, that Bow-men were right good,
All clad in Lincolne Greene, with Caps of Red and Blew,
His fellowes winded Horne, not one of them but knew,
When setting to their lips their little Beugles shrill,
The warbling Eccho's wakt from euery Dale and Hill:
Their Bauldricks set with Studs, athwart their shoulders cast,
To which vnder their armes, their Sheafes were buckled fast,
A short Sword at their Belt, a Buckler scarse a span,
Who strooke below the knee, not counted then a man:
All made of Spanish Yew, their Bowes were wondrous strong;
They not an Arrow drew, but was a cloth-yard long.
Of Archery they had the very perfect craft,
With Broad-arrow, or But, or Prick, or Rouing Shaft,
At Markes full fortie score, they vs'd to Prick, and Roue,
Yet higher then the breast, for Compasse neuer stroue;
Yet at the farthest marke a foot could hardly win:
At Long-buts, short, and Hoyles, each one could cleaue the pin:
Their Arrowes finely pair'd, for Timber, and for Feather,
With Birch and Brazill peec'd, to flie in any weather;
And shot they with the round, the square, or forked Pyle,
The loose gaue such a twang, as might be heard a myle.
And of these Archers braue, there was not any one,
But he could kill a Deere his […] speed vpon,
Which they did boyle and rost, in many a mightie wood,
Sharpe hunger the fine sauce to their more kingly food.
Then taking them to rest, his merry men and hee
Slept many a […] night vnder the […] tree.
From wealthy Abbots chests, and Churles abundant store,
What often times he tooke, he shar'd amongst the poore:
No lordly Bishop came in […] […] way,
To him before he went, but for his Passe must pay:
The Widdow in distresse he graciously relieu'd,
And remedied the wrongs of many a Virgin grieu'd:
He from the husbands bed no married woman wan,
But to his Mistris deare, his loued Marian
Was euer constant knowne, which wheresoere shee came,
Was soueraigne of the Woods, chiefe Lady of the Game:
Her Clothes tuck'd to the knee, and daintie braided haire,
With Bow and Quiuer arm'd, shee wandred here and there,
Amongst the Forrests wild; Diana neuer knew
Such pleasures, nor such Harts as Mariana slew.

Of merry Robin Hood, and of his merrier men,
The Song had […] ceas'd, when as the Muse agen
Wades Erwash, (that at hand) on Sherwoods setting side,
The Nottinghamian Fields, and Derbian doth diuide,
And Northward from her Springs, haps Scardale forth to find,
Which like her Mistris Peake, is naturally enclind
To thrust forth ragged Cleeues, with which she scattered lyes,
As busie Nature here could not her selfe suffice,
Of this oft-altring earth the sundry shapes to show,
That from my entrance here, doth rough and rougher grow,
Which of a lowly Dale, although the name it beare,
You by the Rocks might think that it a Mountaine were,
From which it takes the name of Scardale, which exprest,
Is the hard […] of Rocks, of Chesterfield possest,
By her which is instild; where Rother from her rist,
Ibber, and Crawley hath, and Gunno, that assist
Her weaker wandring Streame tow'rds Yorkeshire as she wends,
So Scardale tow'rds the same, that louely […] sends,
That helps the fertile Seat of Axholme to in-Isle:
But to th'vnwearied Muse the Peake appeares the while,
A withered Beldam long, with bleared watrish eyes,
With many a bleake storme dim'd, which often to the Skies
Shee cast, and oft toth' earth bow'd downe her aged head,
Her meager wrinkled face, being sullyed still with lead,
Which sitting in the workes, and poring o'r the Mines,
Which shee out of the Oare continually refines:
For shee a Chimist was, and Natures secrets knew,
And from amongst the Lead, she […] drew,
And Christall there congeal'd, (by her enstyled Flowers)
And in all Medcins knew their most effectuall powers.
The spirits that haunt the Mynes, she could command and tame,
And bind them as she list in Saturns dreadfull name:
Shee Mil-stones from the Quarrs, with sharpned picks could get,
And dainty Whetstones make, the dull-edgd tooles to whet.
Wherefore the Peake as proud of her laborious toyle,
As others of their Corne, or goodnesse of their Soyle,
Thinking the time was long, till shee her tale had told,
Her Wonders one by one, thus plainly doth vnfold.

My dreadfull daughters borne, your mothers deare delight,
Great Natures chiefest worke, wherein shee shew'd her might;
Yee darke and hollow Caues, the pourtratures of Hell,
Where Fogs, and misty Damps continually doe dwell;
O yee my onely loyes, my Darlings, in whose eyes,
Horror assumes her seat, from whose abiding flyes
Thicke Vapours, that like Rugs still hang the troubled ayre,
Yee of your mother Peake, the hope and onely care:
O thou my first and best, of thy blacke Entrance nam'd
The Diuels-Arse, in me, O be thou not asham'd,
Nor thinke thy selfe difgrac'd, or hurt thereby at all,
Since from thy horror first men vs'd thee so to call:
For as amongst the Moores, the Iettiest blacke are deem'd
The beautifulst of them; so are your kind esteem'd,
The more ye gloomy are, more fearefull and obscure,
(That hardly any eye your sternnesse may endure)
The more yee famous are, and what name men can hit,
That best may ye expresse, that best doth yee befit:
For he that will attempt thy blacke and darksome iawes,
In midst of Summer meets with Winters stormy flawes,
Cold Dewes, that ouer head from thy foule roofe distill,
And meeteth vnder foot, with a dead sullen Rill,
That Acheron it selfe, a man would thinke he were
Imediately to passe, and stay'd for Charon there;
Thy Flore drad Caue, yet flat, though very rough it be,
With often winding turnes: then come thou next to me,
My prettie daughter Poole, my second loued child,
Which by that noble name was happily enstild,
Of that more generous stock, long honor'd in this Shire,
Of which amongst the rest, one being out-law'd here,
For his strong refuge tooke this darke and vncouth place,
An heyre-loome euer since, to that succeeding race:
Whose entrance though deprest below a mountaine steepe,
Besides so very strait, that who will see't, must creepe
Into the mouth thereof, yet being once got in,
A rude and ample Roofe doth instantly begin
To raise it selse aloft, and who […] doth intend
The length thereof to seo, still going must ascend
On mightie slippery stones, as by a winding stayre,
Which of a kind of base darke Alablaster are,
Of strange and sundry formes, both in the Roofe and Floore,
As Nature show'd in thee, what ne'r was seene before.
For Elden thou my third, a Wonder I preferre
Before the other two, which perpendicular
Diue'st downe into the ground, as if an entrance were
Through earth to lead to hell, ye well might iudge it here,
Whose depth is so immense, and wondrously profound,
As that long line which serues the deepest Sea to sound,
Her bottome neuer wrought, as though the vast descent,
Through this Terrestriall Globe directly poynting went
Our Antipods to see, and with her gloomy eyes,
To glote vpon those Starres, to vs that neuer rise;
That downe into this hole if that a stone yee throw,
An acres length from thence, (some say that) yee may goe,
And comming backe thereto, with a still listning eare,
May heare a sound as though that stone then falling were.

Yet for her Caues, and Holes, Peake onely not excells,
But that I can againe produce those wondrous Wells
Of Buckston, as I haue, that most delicious Fount,
Which men the second Bath of England doe account,
Which in the primer raignes, when first this well began
To haue her vertues knowne vnto the blest Saint Anne,
Was consecrated then, which the same temper hath,
As that most daintie Spring, which at the famous Bath,
Is by the Crosse enstild, whose fame I much preferre,
In that I doe compare my daintiest Spring to her,
Nice sicknesses to cure, as also to preuent,
And supple their cleare skinnes, which Ladies oft frequent,
Most full, most faire, most sweet, and most delicious sourse.
To this a second Fount, that in her naturall course,
As mighty Neptune doth, so doth shee ebbe and flow,
If some Welsh Shires report, that they the like can show.
I answere those, that her shall so no wonder call,
So farre from any Sea, not any of them all.
My Caues, and Fountaines thus deliuered you, for change.
A little Hill I haue, a wonder yet more strange,
Which though it be of light, and almost dusty sand,
Vnaltred with the wind, yet firmly doth it stand;
And running from the top, although it neuer cease,
Yet doth the foot thereof, no whit at all increase.
Nor is it at the top, the lower, or the lesse,
As Nature had ordain'd, that so its owne excesse,
Should by some secret way within itselfe ascend,
To feed the falling backe; with this […] doe not end
The wonders of the Peake, for nothing that I haue,
But it a wonders name doth very iustly craue: […]
A Forrest […] haue I, (of which when any speake,
Of me they it enstile, The Forrest, of the Peake)
Whose Hills doe serue for Brakes, the Rocks […] shrubs and trees,
To which the Stag pursu'd, as to the […] flees;
Like it in all this Isle, for sternnesse there is none,
Where Nature may be said to show you groues of stone,
As she in little there, had […] compyld
The modell of the vast Arabian stony Wyld.
Then as it is suppos'd, in England that there be
Seuen wonders: to my selfe so haue I here in me,
My seauen before rehearc'd, allotted me by Fate,
Her greatnesse, as therein ordain'd to imitate.

No sooner had the Peake her seuen proud wonders sung,
But Darwin from her […], her mothers Hills among,
Through many a crooked way, opposd with enuious Rocks,
Comes tripping downe tow'rds Trent; and sees the goodly Flocks
Fed by her mother Peake; and Heards, (for […] and haire,
That hardly are put downe by those of Lancashire,)
Which on her Mountaiues sides, and in her Bottoms graze,
On whose delightfull Course, whilst Vnknidge stands to gaze,
And looke on her his fill; doth on his tiptoes get,
He Nowstoll plainly sees, which likewise from the Set,
Salutes her, and like friends, to Heauen-Hill farre away,
Thus from their lofty tops, were plainly heard to say.

Faire Hill bee not so proud of thy so pleasant Scite,
Who for thou giu'st the eye such wonderfull delight,
From any Mountaine neere, that glorious name of Heauen,
Thy brauery to expresse, was to thy greatnesse giuen:
Nor cast thine eye so much on things that be aboue:
For sawest thou as we doe, our Darwin, thou wouldst loue
Her more then any thing, that so doth thee allure;
When Darwin that by this her trauell could endure,
Takes Now into her traine, (from Nowstoll her great Sire,

Which shewes to take her name) with many a winding Gyre.
Then wandring through the Wylds, at length the pretty Wye,
From her blacke mother Poole, her nimbler course doth plye
Tow'rds Darwin, and along from Bakewell with her brings
Lathkell a little Brooke, and Headford, whose poore Springs,
But hardly them the name of Riuerets can affoord;
When Burbrook with the strength, that Nature hath her stor'd,
Although but very small, yet much doth Darwin sted.
At Worksworth on her way, when from the Mynes of Lead,
Browne Eclesborne comes in, then Amber from the East,
Of all the Darbian Nymphs of Darwin lou'd the best,
(A delicater Flood from fountaine neuer flow'd)
Then comming to the Towne, on which she first bestow'd
Her naturall British name, her Darby, so againe,
Her, to that ancient Seat, doth kindly intertaine,
Where Marten-Brooke, although an easie shallow Rill,
There offereth all she hath, her Mistris Banks to fill,
And all too little thinks that was on Darwin spent;
From hence as shee departs, in trauailing to Trent,
Backe goes the actiue Muse, tow'rds Lancashire amaine,
Where matter rests ynough her vigor to maintaine,
And to the Northern Hills shall lead her on along,
Which now must wholly bee the subiect of my Song.