Classic Poem

You there with far less painful steps, but yet
More dangerous still, the way you came repeat,
Your Peake-bred Convoy of rude Men and Boys,
All the way whooting with that dreadful noise,
A man would think it were the dismal yell
Of Souls tormented in the flames of Hell;
And I almost believ'd it, by the face
Our Masters give us of that unknown place.
But being conducted with this Triumph back,
Before y'are yet permitted leave to take
Of this Infernal Mansion , you must see
Where Master Poole , and his bold Yeomanry
Took up their dark Apartments , which do lie
Over the narrow pass you entred by,
Up an ascent of easie mounting, where
They shew his Hall , his Parlour, Bed-chamber ,
Withdrawing-Room , and Closset , and, to these,
His Kitchen , and his other Offices ,
And all contriv'd to justifie a Fable ,
That may indeed pass with the ign'rant Rabble,
And might serve him perhaps a day, or so,
When close pursu'd; but men of sence must know,
Who of the place have took a serious view,
None but the Devil himself could live there two.
And I half think your selves are glad to hear
Your own deliverance to be so near;
Then once more through the narrow passage strain,
And you shall see the chearful day again;
When, after two hours darkness, you will say
The Sun appears drest in a brighter Ray :
Thus after long restraint, when once set free,
Men better tast the air of Liberty .

Six hundred paces hence, and Northward still,
On the descent of such a little Hill ,
As by the rest of greater bulk, and fame,
Environ'd round, scarcely deserves that name,
A Crystal Fountain Springs in healing streams,
Hot (though close shaded from the Suns warm beam
By a malicious Roof, that covers it,
So close, as not his prying eye t'admit
That elsewhere's priviledg'd, here to behold
His beamy Face, and locks of burning Gold,
In the most flatt'ring mirror, that below
His travel round the spacious Globe can show)
So fair a Nymph , and so supremely bright,
The teeming Earth did never bring to light;
Nor does she rush into the world with noise
Like Neptune's ruder Sex of Roaring Boys ;
But boils and simmers up, as if the heat
That warms her waves that motion did beget,
But where's the Wonder? For it is well known
Warm and clear Fountains in the Peak are none.
Which the whole Province thorough so abound,
Each Yeoman almost has them in his ground.
Take then the Wonder of this famous place;
This tepid Fountain a Twin-Sister has,
Of the same beauty and complexion,
That, bubbling six foot off, joyns both in one:
But yet so cold withal, that who will stride
When bathing, cross the Bath but half so wide,
Shall in one body, which is strange, endure
At once an Ague , and a Calenture .
Strange, that two Sisters springing up at once,
Should differ thus in constitutions;
And would be stranger, could they be the same;
That Love should one half of the heart enflame,
Whilst th'other, senseless of a Lovers pain,
Freezes it self, and him, in cold disdain;
Or that a Naiade , having careless play'd
With some male wanton stream, and fruitful made,
Should have her silver breasts at once to flow,
One with warm Milk , th'other with melted Snow .
Yet for the Patients 'tis more proper still,
Fit to enflame the blood is cold and chill,
And of the blood t'allay the glowing heat,
Wild youth, and yet wilder desires beget.
Hither the Sick , the Lame , and Barren come,
And hence go healthful , sound , and fruitful home.
Buxton 's in beauty famous; but in this
Much more, the Pilgrim never frustrate is,
That comes to bright St. Anne , when he can get
Nought but his pains from yellow Somerset .
Nor is our Saint , though sweetly humble, shutt
Within coarse walls of an indecent Hutt ;
But in the Centre of a Pallace springs
A Mansion proud enough for Saxon Kings;
But by a Lady built, who rich and wise,
Not only Houses rais'd, but Families ,
More, and more great, than England that does flow
In Loyal Peers , can from one Fountain show.
But, either through the fault of th' Architect ,
The Workman's ignorance, knavery, or neglect;
Or through the searching nature of the Air ,
Which almost always breaths in Tempests there;
This Structure , which in expectation shou'd
Ages as many, as't has years have stood;
Chinckt, and decay'd so dangerously fast,
And near a Ruin; till it came at last,
To be thought worth the Noble Owners care,
New to rebuild, what Art could not repair,
As he has done, and like himself, of late
Much more commodious, and of greater state.