SCALE FORCE, CUMBERLAND.
This cascade, distant about a mile and a half from the village of Buttermere, exceeds in extent of fall the renowned Niagara, yet, owing to a difficulty of access, it is frequently neglected by the tourist.
It sweeps, as sweeps an army
Adown the mountain side,
With the voice of many thunders,
Like the battle’s sounding tide.
Yet the sky is blue above it,
And the dashing of the spray
Wears the colour of the rainbow
Upon an April day.
It rejoices in the sunshine,
When after heavy rain
It gathers the far waters
To dash upon the plain.
It is terrible, yet lovely,
Beneath the morning rays:
Like a dream of strength and beauty,
It haunted those who gaze.
We feel that it is glorious,
Its power is on the soul;
And lofty thoughts within us
Acknowledge its control.
A generous inspiration
Is on the outward world;
It waketh thoughts and feelings
In careless coldness furled.
To love and to admire
Seems natural to the heart;
Life’s small and selfish interests
From such a scene depart.
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