e
imagination, not content with this scanty allowance of society, is
tempted to attribute a voluntary power to every change which takes place
in such a spot, whether it be the breeze that wanders over the surface
of the water, or the splendid lights of evening resting upon it in the
midst of awful precipices.

There, sometimes does a leaping fish
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
The crags repeat the raven's croak
In symphony austere:
Thither the rainbow comes, the cloud,
And mists that spread the flying shroud,
And sunbeams, and the sounding blast.

It will be observed that this country is bounded on the south and east
by the sea, which combines beautifully, from many elevated points, with
the inland scenery; and, from the bay of Morecamb, the sloping shores
and back-ground of distant mountains are seen, composing pictures
equally distinguished for amenity and grandeur. But the aestuaries on
this coast are in a great measure bare at low water[52]; and there is no
instance of the sea running far up among the mountains, and mingling
with the lakes, which are such in the strict and usual sense of the
word, being of fresh water. Nor have the streams, from the shortness of
their course, time to acquire that body of water necessary to confer
upon them much majesty. In fact, the most considerable, while they
continue in the mountain and lake-country, are rather large brooks than
rivers. The water is perfectly pellucid, through which in many places
are seen, to a great depth, their beds of rock, or of blue gravel, which
give to the water itself an exquisitely cerulean colour: this is
particularly striking in the rivers Derwent and Duddon, which may be
compared, such and so various are their beauties, to any two rivers of
equal length of course in any country. The number of the torrents and
smaller brooks is infinite, with their waterfalls and water-breaks; and
they need not here be described. I will only observe that, as many, even
of the smallest rills, have either found, or made for themselves,
recesses in the sides of the mountains or in the vales, they have
tempted the primitive inhabitants to settle near them for shelter; and
hence, cottages so placed, by seeming to withdraw from the eye, are the
more endeared to the feelings.

[52] In fact there is not an instance of a harbour on the Cumberland
side of the Solway frith that is not dry at low water; that of
Ravenglass, at the mouth of