Wye Dale, Buxton

Here Nature, with a lavish bounty, pours Her grandest beauties from her richest stores; On either hand high rifted rocks uprear Their summits proud that touching heaven appear, Whilst on their shelves soft mountain herbage grows, Fresh moss springs green, the pretty wild flower blows, And many a tree, on their steep sides, is seen Stretching broad branches, decked in living green, ’Mongst which the yew its gloomy boughs extends, Where the grey crag’s terrific form impends; Here the gay warbler’s sweetly carolled song Resounds reverberating rocks among, Whilst o’er mossed stones Wye’s new-born waters wail Spreading their murmurs through this lonely dale.