Would I again were with you, O ye dales
Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands, where,
Oft as the giant flood obliquely strides
And his banks open, and his lawns extend,
Stops short the pleased traveller to view,
Presiding o’er the scene, some rustic tower
Founded by Norman or by Saxon hands:
O ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook
The rocky pavement and the mossy falls
Of solitary Wensbeck’s limpid stream,