For far beyond broad Weatherlam the sun sank in the sky,
And bright his levell’d radiance lit the heights around Hillbell.
“And tell me an old story,” thus I further spoke, “John Long,
Some mournful tale or legend, of the far departed time;
The scene is all too solemn here for lightsome lay or song,
So tell, and, in your plain strong words, I’ll weave it into rhyme.”
Then old John Long revolved his quid, and gaunt he look’d and grim—
For darker still athwart the lake spread Latter-barrow’s shade—
And pointing o’er the waters broad to fields and woodlands dim,
He soberly and slowly spake, and this was what he said.