A Tradition of Oker Hill in Darley Dale, Derbyshire ’T IS said that to the brow of yon fair hill Two brothers clomb, and, turning face from face, Nor one look more exchanging, grief to still Or feed, each planted on that lofty place A chosen tree; then, eager to fulfil Their courses, like two new-born rivers, they In opposite directions urged their way Down from the far-seen mount. No blast might kill Or blight that fond memorial;—the trees grew, And now entwine their arms; but ne’er again Embraced those brothers upon earth’s wide plain; Nor aught of mutual joy or sorrow knew, Until their spirits mingled in the sea That to itself takes all, Eternity. |
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