And sweet, in their secludedness, thy tributary vales;
And pleasant are thy homesteads snug beneath thy mountains dark,
And stately stands thine ancient Hall within its coppiced park.
And lofty are thy crags from whence the wakeful raven stoops,
And wildly are thy fells arranged in strange fantastic groups,
Uprearing their majestic heads in grandeur, gloom, and pride,
And none may tell what treasures vast their rugged bosoms hide.
And such are some attractions which in Conistone we find;
But Conistone! dear Conistone!! thy best remains behind,
For never elsewhere have I found, though I have wander’d far,