* * * This delightful morning, Ulleswater, which
we admired as much, if not more than any lake which
we have seen, was of the brightest blue, and the valley
behind as rich in loveliness, when we set off for Helvellyn.
The top is just five miles from the Inn. At
last the pony was tied to a stake, and we wound up the
Swirrel Edge. The rocks are almost perpendicular, and
strangely shivered, and we looked down on the Red
Tarn sparkling in the sun with, as it were, thousands
of stars. At last we reached the top, a bare smooth
summit, whence the wide misty landscape stretched all
around us. Six lakes should have been visible; but we
were obliged to be content with the whole stretch of
Ulleswater, eight miles behind us, Bassenthwaite to the
north, and perhaps a bit of Keswick; but I would not
have missed the scene for any reasonable consideration.
Scott, of course, stood on the top of the hill looking
down on the Tarn, with Striding Edge on his right.
Alas! no "eagles" are ever "yelling" on the mountain,
nor "brown mountain heather" is in sight--only common
mountain grass.
On the top of Helvellyn she wrote the following lines in a
sketch-book:--
How softly the winds of the mountains are saying,
"No chamber of death is Helvellyn's dark brow;"
On the "rough rocky edge" are the fleecy flocks straying,
And "Red Tarn" gleams bright with a thousand stars now.
The "huge nameless rook" has no gloom in its shadow;
It catches the sun, it has found it a name;
And the mountain grass covers like the turf of the meadow
The arms of Helvellyn and Catchedecan.
There is not on earth a dark city's enclosure,
Or vast mountain waste, where the traveller may roam,
That peace may not soothe with its balmy composure,
And love may not bless with the joy of a home!
To her sister.
ULVERSTON, 15th of 9th Month, 1851.