Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
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A34654
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The wonders of the peake by Charles Cotton.
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Cotton, Charles, 1630-1687.
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1681
(1681)
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Wing C6400; ESTC R9498
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23,665
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92
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you raise one foot to move along Without good heed you will have much ado To fix the other foot from rising too And yet there is no current here nor spring T' occasion such an unexpected thing For though the Country People are so wise To call these Rivers they 'r but Stagnancies Left by the flood which when retir'd again The Cave does in her hollow lap retain As here through cobling stones we stumbling wade The narrowing Cave cast such a dreadful shade That being thence unable to discover With all our lights how far the Lake was over We made a halt and as the rest desir'd I now half willing was to have retir'd And had not Resolution then stept in The great Adventure had not finisht bin But ore we got and from our cloaths there rain'd A welcome showr upon the thirsty Sand Of which we here vast Mountains saw by Seas Of Torrents washt from distant Provinces For the hard ribs of the Caves native stone So solid is that that I 'me sure yields none Over these Hills we forward still contend Wishing and longing for our Journeys end Till now again we saw the Rock descend Forming a Roof so even smooth and sleek Without or crack or seam or chink or nick Some twenty paces long and ten foot high As the Mechanick Trowel may defy I' th midst of which a Cupolo does rise As if to crown the other rarities In th'exact hollow of a weighty Bell Which does in beauty very much excell All Iere saw before excepting none Though I have been at Lincoln and at Roane Just beyond this a purling Rill we meet Which though scarce deep enough to wet our feet Had they been dry must be a River too And has more title than the other two Because this runs which neither of them do Though ev'ry Kennel that we see does pour More liberal streams in ev'ry Thunder-showr Just where 't is met as if to shun the light It under ground vanishes out of sight We take the obvious stream to be our guide Sand-hills and Rocks by turns on either side Plashing through water and through slabby Sand Tilla vast Sand-hill once more bids us stand For here again who ere shall try will know The humorous Rock descends so very low That the swoln floods when they in fury rave Throw up this Mount that almost choaks the Cave Where though the Brook offer'd to guide us still Through a blind Creek o' th right hand of this Hill We thought it not prudence to follow it Unlikely we conceiv'd our bulks t' admit But storm'd the Hill which rising fast and steep So near the Rock we on all four must creep It on the other side as fast does dip And to reward us for the mighty pain Brought us unto our little Nymph again Which we some paces follow'd still when there A suddain noise striking th' astonish't ear We neither could guess what nor tell from whence Strook us into amazement and suspence We stood all mute and pallid with the sight A paleness so increast by paler light That ev'ry wand a Caduce did appear As we a Caravan of dead folks were But really so terrible a sound Sure ne're was heard above or under ground To which the difficulties we had had And horror of the place did so much add That it was long before a word came out To ask a question or resolve a doubt But by some one the silence being broke We altogether in confusion spoke But all cross purpose not a word of sence Either to get or give intelligence So when a tall and richly laden Ship Plowing the Sea with all her sails a-trip Suddenly strikes upon some unseen Rock Her seams laid open by the pondrous shock The Passengers and Seamen tear their throats In confus'd cries and undistinguisht Notes Some thought a flood was just now breaking in Some that Pyracmon had at th'anvile bin With Brontes forging thunderbolts for Iove Or for some Heroe arms i' th world above Some said it thundred others this and that Every one fear'd but not a man knew what Till at the last a little calmer grown Again we list'ned then spake one by one Began to think and temp'rately debate What we were best to do in this estate The major Vote was quickly to retire Which also those oppos'd it did desire Though in the end we all agreed to see What the great cause of this strange noise might be Nor were we long in doubt for ere we had But twenty paces further progress made Before our eyes we saw it plain appear And then were out of count'nance at our fear On the right hand an open passage lies Where once again the Roof does sloping rise In a steep craggy and a lubrick shoar As high at least as any where before Where from the very top of all the Hill A murm'ring fountain does her streams distill Which thence descending with a headlong wave Roars in remoter windings of the Cave Though here it does in gentle whispers brawl Through little stones and is scarce heard at all The water falling down so silent here And roaring louder than the Thunderer At a remoter distance seems as if The Crystal stream that trickles from the Cliff Were a Catarrh that falling from the Brain Upon his leathern lungs did thus constrain The Fiend to cough so very loud and tear His marble throat and fright th' Adventurer But if this liquid Cave does any where Deserve the title of a Grot 't is here For here as from her Vrn the Nymph doer pour The water breaks on Rocks in such a showr Sparkling quite round the place as made us doubt T' would hazard spitting all our Candles out Which had it hapned so we fairly might Have bid unto the World a long good night Wherefore it did concern us to make hast And thus we have the third fam'd River past Up the old Channel still we forward tend Wondring and longing when our search should end For we were all grown weary of the night And wisht to see the long forsaken light And Reader now the happy time draws near To end your trouble as it did our fear For many paces more we had not gone Before we came to a large vault of stone Curiously arch't and wall'd on either side Some thirty paces long and thirteen wide Scarce ten foot high which does deprive the place Unhappily of due proportions grace This full of water stands but yet so clear That thorough it the bottom does appear So smooth and even laid with glittering Sand That the most timerous will not make a stand But boldly step into 't to see the end To which all these so strange Meanders tend The first step 's ancle deep the next may be To the midleg and no where past the knee Saving that at the very end of all Where the Rock meets us with an even wall Under the foot and in the midst of it There is a pretty semi-circular pit About some
THE WONDERS OF THE PEAKE BY CHARLES COTTON Esquire Barbara Pyramidum sileat miracula Memphis Mart. Epig. LONDON Printed for Ioanna Brome at the Gun at the West end of St. Pauls 1681. TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE Elizabeth Countess of Devonshire THIS ESSAY Is with all acknowledgment and devotion humbly Dedicated BY Her Ladiships Most Humble and most Obedient Servant Charles Cotton THE WONDERS OF The Peake DUrst I expostulate with Providence I then should ask wherein the innocence Of my poor undesigning infancy Could Heaven offend to such a black degree As for th' offence to damn me to a place Where Nature only suffers in disgrace A Country so deform'd the Traveller Would swear those parts Natures pudenda were Like Warts and Wens hills on the one side swell To all but Natives inaccessible Th' other a blue scrofulous scum defiles Flowing from th' earth 's impostumated boyles That seems the steps Mountains on Mountains thrown By which the Giants storm'd the Thunderers Throne This from that prospect seems the sulph'rous flood Where sinful Sodom and Gomorrah stood 'Twixt these twin Provinces of Britains shame The Silver Dove how pleasant is that name Runs through a Vale high crested Cliffs o'reshade By her fair Progress only pleasant made But with so swift a Torrent in her course As shews the Nymph flies from her native source To seek what there 's deny'd the Suns warm Beams And to embrace Trents prouder swelling streams In this so craggy ill-contriv'd a Nook Of this our little world this pretty Brook Alas is all the recompence I share For all th' intemperancies of the Air Perpetual Winter endless solitude Or the society of men so rude That it is ten times worse Thy murmurs Dove Or humour Lovers or men fall in love With thy bright beauties and thy fair blue eyes Wound like a Parthian whilst the shooter flies Of all fair Thetis Daughters none so bright So pleasant none to taste none to the sight None yields the gentle Angler such delight To which the bounty of her stream is such As only with a swift and transient touch T' enrich her steril borders as she glides And force sweet flowers from their marble sides North-East from this fair Rivers head there lies A Country that abounds with Rarities They call them Wonders there and be they so But the whole Country sure 's a wonder too And Mother of the rest which seven are And one of them so singularly rare As does indeed amount to miracle And all the Kingdom boasts so far excel It ought not I confess to be prophan'd By my poor Muse nor should an artless hand Presume to take a Crayon up to trace But the faint Land-scape of so brave a place Yet noble Chatsworth for I speak of thee Pardon the love will prompt the injury My Pen must do thee when before I end I fix dishonour where I would commend The first of these I meet with in my way Is a vast Cave which the old people say One Poole an Out-law made his residence But why he did so or for what offence The Beagles of the Law should press so near As spight of horrors self to earth him there Is in our times a Riddle and in this Tradition most unkindly silent is But whatsoe're his Crime than such a Cave A worse imprisonment he could not have At a high Mountains foot whose lofty crest O're-looks the Marshy Prospect of the West Under its Base there is an Overture Which Summer Weeds do render so obscure The careless Traveller may pass and ne're Discover or suspect an entry there But such a one there is as we might well Think it the Crypto-porticus of Hell Had we not been instructed that the Gate Which to Destruction leads is nothing straight Through a blind door which some poor Woman there Still keeps the Key of that it may keep her Men bowing low take leave of days fair light To crowd themselves into the Womb of Night Through such a low and narrow pass that it For Badgers Wolves and Foxes seems more fit Or for the yet less sorts of Chaces then T' admit the Statures and the Bulks of men Could it to reason any way appear That men could find out any business there But having fifteen paces crept or more Through pointed stones and dirt upon all four The gloomy Grotto lets men upright rise Although they were six times Goliah's size There looking upward your astonish'd sight Beholds the glory of the sparkling light Th' enamel'd Roof darts round about the place With so subduing but ingrateful rays As to put out the lights by which alone They receive luster that before had none And must to darkness be resign'd when they are gone But here a roaring Torrent bids you stand Forcing you climb a Rock on the right hand Which hanging pent-house-like does overlook The dreadful Channel of the rapid Brook So deep and black the very thought does make My brains turn giddy and my eye-balls ake Over this dangerous Precipice you crawl Lost if you slip for if you slip you fall But whither faith 't is no great matter when Y' are sure ne'er to be seen alive agen Propt round with Peasants on you trembling go Whilst every step you take your Guides do show In the uneven Rock the uncouth shapes Of Men of Lions Horses Dogs and Apes But so resembling each the fancied shape The Man might be the Horse the Dog the Ape And straight just in your way a stone appears Which the resemblance of a Hay-cock bears Some four foot high and beyond that a less Of the same Figure which do still increase In height and bulk by a continual drop Which upon each distilling from the top And falling still exactly on the Crown There break themselves to mists which trickling down Crust into stone and but with leasure swell The sides and still advance the Miracle So that in time they would be tall enough If there were need to prop the hanging Roof Did not sometimes the curious visiters To steal a treasure is not justly theirs Break off much more at one injurious blow Than can again in many Ages grow These the Wise Natives call the Fonts but there Descending from the Roof there does appear A bright transparent Cloud which from above By those false lights does downwards seem to move Like a Machine which when some God appears We see descend upon our Theaters Unlike in figure and in posture this With the two nam'd before owes its increase To the same cause the others grow up by Namely the petrifying quality Of those bright drops which trickling one by one Deliberately crust as they glide to stone By which the Stiria longer bigger grows And must touch ground at last but when who knows To see these thriving by these various ways It seems methinks as if the first did raise Their heads the pond'rous Vault so to sustain Whilst th' other pendant Pillar