THE RIVER DUDDON
XX. THE PLAIN OF DONNERDALE
THE RIVER DUDDON
THE old inventive Poets, had they seen, Or rather felt, the entrancement that detains Thy waters, Duddon! ‘mid these flowery plains– The still repose, the liquid lapse serene, Transferred to bowers imperishably green, Had beautified Elysium! But these chains Will soon be broken;–a rough course remains, Rough as the past; where Thou, of placid mien, Innocuous as a firstling of the flock, And countenanced like a soft cerulean sky, 10 Shalt change thy temper; and, with many a shock Given and received in mutual jeopardy, Dance, like a Bacchanal, from rock to rock, Tossing her frantic thyrsus wide and high!