Poem by John Taylor

The Border Lands of England and Scotland

Eight miles from Carlisle runs a little river,
Which England’s bounds, from Scotland’s grounds doth sever.
Without horse, bridge, or boat, I o'er did get
On foot, I went, yet scarce my shoes did wet.
I being come to this long-looked-for land,
Did mark, remark, note, renote, viewed, and scanned;
And I saw nothing that could change my will,
But that I thought myself in England still.
The kingdoms are so nearly joined and fixed,
There scarcely went a pair of shears betwixt;
There I saw sky above, and earth below,
And as in England, there the sun did show;
The hills with sheep replete, with corn the dale,
And many a cottage yielded good Scottish ale;
This county, Annandale, in former times,
Was the cursed climate of rebellious crimes:
For Cumberland and it, both kingdoms borders,
Were ever ordered, by their own disorders,
Some sharking, shifting, cutting throats, and thieving,
Each taking pleasure in the other’s grieving;
And many times he that had wealth to-night,
Was by the morrow morning beggared quite:
Too many years this pell-mell fury lasted,
That all these borders were quite spoiled and wasted,
Confusion, hurly-burly reigned and revelled,
The churches with the lowly ground were levelled;
All memorable monuments defaced,
All places of defence o’erthrown and razed.
That whoso then did in the borders dwell,
Lived little happier than those in hell.
But since the all-disposing God of heaven,
Hath these two kingdoms to one monarch given,
Blest peace, and plenty on them both have showered,
Exile, and hanging hath the thieves devoured,
That now each subject may securely sleep,
His sheep and neat, the black the white doth keep,
For now those crowns are both in one combined,
Those former borders, that each one confine,
Appears to me (as I do understand)
To be almost the centre of the land,
This was a blessed heaven expounded riddle,
To thrust great kingdoms skirts into the middle.
Long may the instrumental cause survive!
From him and his, succession still derive
True heirs unto his virtues, and his throne,
That these two kingdoms ever may be one!

Print

1602 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version