FROM the meadows of Armath, on Thirlmere's wild shore,
Three rosy-cheeked school-boys, the highest not more
Than the height of a counsellor's bag,

To the top of Great How were once tempted to climb;
And there they built up, without mortar or lime,
A man on the peak of the crag.

They built him of stones gathered up as they lay;
They built him and christened him all in one day,
An urchin both vigorous and hale;

And so without scruple they called him Ralph Jones.
Now Ralph is renowned for the length of his bones;
The Magog of Legberthwaite dale.

Just half a week after, the wind sallied forth,
And, in anger or merriment, out of the North
Coming on with a terrible pother,

From the peak of the crag blew the giant away.
And what did these school-boys?—The very next day
They went and they built up another.

Some little I've seen of blind boisterous works

By Christian disturbers more savage than Turks,
Spirits busy to do and undo;

At remembrance whereof my blood sometimes will flag;
Then, light-hearted boys, to the top of the crag,

And I'll build up a giant with you.

IF from the public way you turn your steps
Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,
You will suppose that with an upright path
Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent
The pastoral mountains front you, face to face.
But, courage! for around that boisterous brook
The mountains have all opened out themselves,