Forest of Rossendale. 31 



Rich is the spot, in nature's worth, 

 Sweet Rossendale, that gives thee birth; 

 Whoe'er from thence thy charms may trace, 

 Till charms are lost in Art's embrace — 

 Shall (having seen thy murky gloom^ 

 See beauty's birth and beauty's tomb. 



And SO the poem goes on to narrate a legend of Old Kersal Hall. 



The beginning of the pollution of the Irwell is by no means of 

 recent date, as appears by the following lines from " Knaster," a 

 humourous poem written by John Ferriar, M.D. of Manchester, (r) 

 a century ago, where, referring to one of his hterary townsmen, he 

 says, — 



Deep in a den, conceal'd from Phoebus' beams, 

 Where neighb'ring Irwell leads his sable streams, 

 Where misty dye-rooms fragrant scents bestow, 

 And fires more fierce than love for ever glow. 



The scurvy way in which the Irwell has been treated all these 

 years is enough to make it dry up its waters and retire to cavernous 

 depths. Vex not the spirit of the stream ! Why not a spirit in 

 the waters as well as in these dull clods of mortal bodies of ours? 

 There is a spirit I We can hear it speak, and it looks out at us 

 with a thousand appealing eyes ! 



(c) Palatine Note Book, Vol. II., p. 69. 



