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of Abergavenny on February 6th of the same year, 1805. And he 
may have murmured the stanza, written probably in the July 
preceding :— 
‘* Here did we stop, and here looked round, 
While each unto himself descends 
For that last thought of parting friends 
That is not to be found.” 
How the silence and the cloud would again fall on them, as they 
walked round the Red Tarn, startled the eagle, saw the hill fox 
steal away, heard the cry of the raven and buzzard, and the pipe 
of the grey plover, clambered with difficulty along the sheep track 
among the scattered rocks of Striding Edge, to the place where 
poor Gough’s body was found, or sat on the great boulder stone 
that lies by the track up Swirrel Edge and gazed across the Red 
Tarn at the “nameless crag,” “the cliff huge in stature,” which 
had witnessed the wanderer’s dying and the faithful dog’s watch by 
the side of its master “in the arms of Helvellyn and Catchede- 
cam.” 
But as they climbed up by Swirrel Edge to Helvellyn brow the 
sun would chase even these dark shadows quite away, the spirits 
of Scott and Wordsworth would revive, so that thirty-two years 
after, Wordsworth, when on a tour with Crabbe Robinson in Italy, 
goes back in thought to that occasion and his genial guest, and in 
his “Musings near Aquapendente,” describes glowingly the view 
he obtained on that serene autumnal day when he stood with the 
Wizard of the North on old Helvellyn’s brow— 
‘* Where once together, in his day of strength, 
We stood rejoicing, as if earth were free 
From sorrow, like the sky above our heads.”’ 
Lockhart in his “Life of Sir Walter Scott,” vol. ii. p. 70, thus 
chronicles the incident :— 
** About this time Mr. and Mrs. Scott made a short excursion to the Lakes 
of Cumberland and Westmorland, and visited some of their finest scenery, in 
company with Mr. Wordsworth. I have found no written narrative of this 
little tour, but I have often heard Scott speak with enthusiastic delight of the 
