Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1838/Miller's Dale, Derbyshire
39
MILLER’S DALE, DERBYSHIRE.
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MILLER'S DALE, DERBYSHIRE.
o you remember, Love, the lake
We used to meet beside?
The only sound upon the air
The ripples on the tide.
Do you remember, Love, the hour
When first the moonbeam shone,
Rising above the distant hills,
We used to meet alone.
You knew not then my rank and state,
You only knew my love,
Whose gentle witness was the moon,
That watched us from above.
The valley, silvered with her light,
Was lovely as a shrine;
The truth within that young fresh heart
Felt there was truth in mine.
You are a Countess now, sweet Love,
And dwell in stately halls;
The red gold shines upon the board,
The silk upon the walls.
A thousand watch my Lady's eye,
The minstrel sings her name;
None were so fair at Henry's court,
Where all the fairest came.
For the soft moonshine's rising light,
The pearls are on your brow:
Now, were you, lovely Ladye mine,
The happiest then, or now?
"Nor lake, nor castle," soft she said,
"Have any choice of mine;
"I know in life one only lot,
"So long as I am thine!"
The Miller's Dale is one of the most picturesque passages in the interesting valley of the Wye. It extends, for about two miles, in a direction south-east from Wormhill Village, and the colouring of the landscape is diversified by the appearance of loadstone and tufa intersecting the strata of this limestone district. The river, which is pent up within a narrow chasm beneath the mills, appears to rejoice at its release, as it quietly expands into a more ample stream, and glides leisurely away. This delightful dale abounds in scenes that soothe and tranquillize the mind. The stream is never turbulent, never still; though in some places the huge branches of the gnarled oak, or a weather-beaten elm, shoot from a fissure in the rock above, in a manner that Salvator would adopt; yet the light and graceful foliage with which it is accompanied, subdues every feature of wildness, and softens down the whole to beauty. When darkness pervades the Dale, and the many windows are lighted up, and not even the outline of the buildings is to be traced against the dark mountains, fancy may take it for an illuminated palace raised by the magician’s power.