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Cliffs doubling on their echoes borne, 

 The terrors of the robber's horn ; 

 Cliffs, which for many a later year 

 The warbling Doric reed shall bear, 

 When some sad swain shall teach the grove 

 Ambition is no cure for love." 



In the higher departments of the Tiviot, it is 

 difficult for the mind to fix upon any particular spot 

 of its banks more interesting and beautiful than 

 others. There is quite a constellation of fine scenes. 

 Isolated hills and mountains present themselves in 

 defile, and project one behind another like side- 

 scenes in a theatre. They are often intersected by 

 small valleys and strips of land, divided, in some 

 cases, by a small rivulet, which reflects upon its 

 limpid waters the beauty of the trees and bushes by 

 which its banks are adorned. Again we see other 

 hills, which exhibit a mixture of the gloomy and 

 the gay ; while those which appear at the back of 

 the scene are veiled with magical effect in the trans- 

 parent mist of the horizon. On the one bank we 

 see verdant meadows rise with gentle slope to a dis- 

 tant prospect, formed and bounded by small chains of 

 abrupt mountains ; on the other we see jutting pro- 

 montories, and bluff headlands, studded with clumps 

 of dwarfish trees or shrubs, which give a most 

 pleasing effect to the general landscape. It would be 

 difficult to find rural pictures in which the pleasing 

 and the romantic predominate with such a delightful 

 alternation, and such perfect harmony. 



Leaving Carlisle, or some of the neighbouring 



