and, resuming once more the name of a river, the Derwent, after a winding course through several verdant valleys, at length falls into the sea near Workington.

Returning to Keswick, along the western shores, the ride is delightful; especially in the evening, and whilst the water is still gilded by the radiance of the sun. At such a time, when the lake is one vast expanse of crystall mirror, the mountain shadows are softened into a mild blue tint, which sweeps over the half surface, and the other half receives the impression of every radiant form that glows around. At Berk Withop the view of the lake is full and pleasing, the water beautifully expands to the eye, having its outlet concealed by Castle How, a circular peninsula crowned with wood, on which appear the vestiges of a castle or fortress.

Lord Byron makes beautiful allusion, in his Childe Harold, to the dilapidated remains of castellated structures:

"They stand, as stands a lofty mind,
Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd,
All tenantless, save to the crannying wind,
Or holding dark communion with the cloud.
There was a day when they were young and proud,
Banners on high, and battles pass'd below;

But they who fought are in a bloody shroud,

And those which waved are shredless dust ere now,
And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow."

On the Berk Withop side of the castle, the shore is lined with a range of rocks, half concealed in low wood, over which rise Withop Brows. The opposite shore is indented with beautiful bays, formed by the promontories of Scarness, Bowness, and Bradness. Hence is seen, in a pleasing point of view, a part of the vale of Bassenthwaite, interspersed with its church and two or three white houses. Ullock, a gloomy mountain covered with heath, forms the back-ground of this picture; and Skiddaw appears in all its preeminence, towering above the neighbouring hills in majestic grandeur, and lifts its summit to the skies. On all sides the scenery is various, and the whole of it beautifully picturesque. As you approach Keswick, Skiddaw appears to great advantage; Crosthwaite church and vicarage are successively seen; and between these and the town, on the left, is the villa Lucretilis of the Poet Laureat.

The vale of Bassenthwaite extends from the foot of Skiddaw to Ousebridge; it is variegated with many beautiful objects, both of art and nature, and, in general, is a rich and fertile tract of land. The lake, which adds so much to its beauty, is nearly as transparent as that of Derwent, and abounds with a great variety of fish and water-fowl.

KESWICK, AND DERWENTWATER AND BASSENTHWAITE LAKES, FROM THE KENDAL ROAD,-CUMBERLAND.

This view of Keswick, taken from the Kendal Road, presents a striking assemblage of picturesque objects, including the lakes of Derwent Water and Bassenthwaite Water, with the mountainous acclivities of Withop Brows in the back-ground.

"The lofty rocks

At night's approach bring down the unclouded sky,

To rest upon their circumambient walls;

A temple framing of dimensions vast

And yet not too enormous for the sound

Of human anthems,-choral song, or burst
Sublime of instrumental harmony,

To glorify the Eternal! What if these
Did never break the stillness that prevails
Here, if the solemn nightingale be mute,
And the soft woodlark here did never chant
His vespers; Nature fails not to provide
Impulse and utterance. The whispering air
Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights
And blind recesses of the cavern'd rocks.
The little rills and waters numberless,
Inaudible by daylight, blend their notes
With the loud streams; and often, at the hour
When issue forth the first pale stars, is heard
Within the circuit of yon fabric huge,

One voice, the solitary raven, flying
Athwart the concave of the dark-blue dome,
Unseen, perchance above the power of sight-
An iron knell! with echoes from afar,

Faint-and still fainter-as the cry with which

The wanderer accompanies her flight

Through the calm region, fades upon the ear,
Diminishing by distance till it seemed

To expire."

CLARE-MOSS,-WESTMORLAND.

This romantic locality is situate at the extreme end of Little Langdale; and the present view looks in the direction of Bley Tarn and Langdale Pikes. The spot is surrounded by lofty mountains and crags; that on the left hand, assuming a prominent character in the engraving, is called Blackrigg. At the proper season of the year, the mountain shepherds bring hither their fleecy charge to wash them, a customary prelude to the shearing.

"In one diffusive band,

They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog

Compell'd, to where the mazy running brook
Forms the deep pool; this bank abrupt and high,

And that fair swelling in a pebbled shore.

Urged to the giddy brink, much is the toil,

The clamour much, of men, and boys, and dogs,

Ere the soft fearful people to the flood
Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain,

On some impatient seizing, hurls them in:
Embolden'd then, nor hesitating more,

Fast, fast, they plunge amid the flashing wave,
And, panting, labour to the farthest shore :
Repeated this, till deep the well-washed fleece
Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt

The trout is banished by the sordid stream;

Heavy, and dripping to the breezy brow,

Slow move the harmless race; where, as they spread

Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray,

Inly disturb'd, and wondering what this wild

Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints

The country fill: and, toss'd from rock to rock,
Incessant bleatings run around the hills."

Blackrigg is a place of much danger both to the sheep and the shepherds, when, as is frequently the case, the straying herd wander beyond the possibility of retreat or farther