FOR one short week I leave, with anxious heart,
Source of my filial cares, the FULL OF DAYS;
Lur’d by the promise of harmonic Art
To breathe her Handel’s soul-exalting lays.
Pensive I trace the Derwent’s amber wave†,
Foaming thro’ sylvan banks, or view it lave
The soft romantic vallies, high o’er-peer’d
By hills, and rocks, in savage grandeur rear’d.
Not two short miles from thee,---can I refrain
Thy haunts, my native EYAM, long unseen?
Thou, and thy lov’d Inhabitants again
Shall meet my transient gaze.---Thy rocky screen,
*Thus Poem was written August 1788, on a journey through Derbyshire, to
a music-meeting at Sheffield. The Author’s Father was Rector of EYAM, an ex-
tensive Village, that runs along a mountainous terrace, in one of the highest parts
of the Peak. She was born there, and there passed the first seven years of her
life, visiting the Place often with her Father in future periods. The middle part of
this Village is built on the edge of a deep Dell, which has very picturesque, and
†Amber Wave. From the peculiar nature of the clay on the mountains, from
which it descends, the River Derwent has a yellow tint, that well becomes the dark
foliage on its banks, and the perpetual foam produced by a narrow, and rocky
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