Near to the bridge which crosses the Lune, not far from Kirkby Lonsdale,
the scenery is truly romantic. The river, which is here of considerable
width, winds through the bottom of the valley, and is overshadowed by
the trees that grow upon its banks. Its current is roughened by the
rocks which form its bed, some of which stand up in huge moss-grown
blocks in the midst of the stream. The water is clear to a great depth,
and the steep grassy banks, and abundance of trees which close in the
prospect, give it an air of seclusion. This stream is plentifully
stocked with trout and salmon, and here the angler may sit and watch the
gilded fly with a devotion worthy of a Davy or a Walton.
The singular construction of the bridge renders it an object of
curiosity; and when viewed in connection with the river and valley of
the Lune, it forms one of the most romantic prospects on which the eye
can dwell. It is composed of three beautifully ribbed arches, the
centre one rising to the height of thirty-six feet above the stream. It
is a lofty, firm and handsome structure, but so narrow as almost to
deserve the taunt cast upon the "auld brig of Ayr:"--
"Where twa wheelbarrows trembled when they met:" at least no two
carriages of a larger size can pass each other; but, for the security of
the foot passengers, there are angular recesses in the battlements,
corresponding with the projecting piers.
Antiquity has cast her veil over this erection, and a consequent
obscurity envelopes its history. If, however, we may rely on popular
tradition, the building is to be ascribed to an unmentionable personage;
of whom it is said, "that he built the bridge one windy night, and that
in fetching the stones from a distance, he let fall the last apronfull
as he flew over a fell hard by." This gentleman has been "a
bridge-builder," "time out of mind," notwithstanding the improbability
of his employing "himself in works of so much real utility to men." Such
an historical fact may, however, account for the huge blocks of stone
found in various parts of the neighbouring moors.
"Still grand, and beautiful, and good,
Has Lonsdale bridge unshaken stood,
And scorned the swollen, raging flood,
For many ages;
Though antiquaries, who have tried
Some date to find, in vain have pryed
In ancient pages.
Then hear what old tradition says:--
Close by the Lune in former days
Lived an old maid, queer all her ways,
In Yorkshire bred;
Though now forgot what she was named,
For cheating she was always famed,
'Tis truly said.
She had a cow, a pony too;
When o'er the Lune, upon the brow,
Had passed one night these fav'rites two,
'Twas dark and rainy;
Her cow was o'er, she knew her bellow,
Her pony too, poor little fellow,
She heard him whinny.
Alack, alack a day! she cries,
As overflowed her streaming eyes,
When lo! with her to sympathise,
Old Nick appears;
'Pray, now, good woman, don't despair,
But lay aside all anxious care,
And wipe your tears.
'To raise a bridge I will agree,
That in the morning you shall see,
But mine for e'er the first must be
That passes over;
So by these means you'll soon be able
To bring the pony to his stable,
The cow her clover.'
In vain were sighs and wailings vented,
So she at last appeared contented,
It was a bargain, she consented,
For she was Yorkshire;
Now home she goes in mighty glee,
Old Satan, too, well pleased he,
Went to his work, Sir.
When Ilus' son surrounded Troy
With walls that nothing might destroy,
Two gods some time he did employ,
But never paid 'em;
Here Satan, certain of his prize,
With building made a desp'rate noise,
So fast he laid on.
In short, the morning streaks appear,
The bridge is built and Satan there,
When this old lady now drew near,
Her lap-dog with her;
'Behold the bridge,' the tempter cries,
'Your cattle, too, before your eyes,
So hie you thither.'
But mark! she well the bargain knew,
A bun then from her pocket drew,
And showed it first to little Cue,
Then overthrew it;
Now flew the bun, now ran the dog,
For eager was the mangy rogue,
Nor stood to view it.
'Now, crafty Sir, the bargain was,
That you should have what first did pass
Across the bridge, so now, alas!
The dog's your right,'
The cheater cheated, struck with shame,
Squinted and grinned, then in a flame
He vanished quite."