In former times where Hexham town doth stand,
A wood there was which cover’d miles of land;
Even all the trees that on the common stood,
Were merely twigs compar’d to this great wood.
In all directions on each side of Tyne,
More boundless than the noted Apennine;
And by some modern authors ’tis agreed,
Some branches of this wood are planted near to Tweed.
These northern parts confess’d it’s balmy shade,
An asylum to those reduced in trade: