  On a View of Roadley Castle, not far from Wallington, in Northumberland, built by the late worthy Sir Walter Blackett, Bart, with a small Description of its Situation, comprehending Codgy Fort, the Lake, the noted Greenlighton Hill, &c. by Thomas Oliver, of Hallington, Northumberland, taken before the Deer were destroyed in the Park, wherein the Castle stands, soon after the Death of Sir Walter Blackett. Hutchinson, in his History of Northumberland, appears not to have liked Roadley or Rothley Castle: he finishes his description of it by saying, it would be “pretty enough for the reception of Thomas of Hick-a-thrift, or Jack the Giant Killer.” There’s Roadley’s ‘cloud capt’ lofty hill, With humble dales below; The mighty crags its front do fill, White as if flect with snow. These rugged rocks rough Boreas scorn, Nor blust’ring Æolus dread: Some as by Noah’s deluge torn, From their huge massy bed. Upon its airy summit high, An antique tower appears, Who to the stranger passing by, Seems ag’d a thousand years. Thus in its melancholy state, A Windsor’s view commands; And to defend the brazen gate, CÆsar and Pompey stands. Within the compass of an eye, Sweet rising scenes appear: There fleecy flocks a feeding by, With stately herds of deer. But when with more extended rays, Your circling eyes you guide: Nature fresh beauties still displays, From Blyth to Symmon Side. Nor far from hence stands Codgy Fort, Built on a craggy hill; Where hawks, and daws, and owls resort, And wild blue pigeons bill. Bordering, a sloping raggy brake, Spreading, appears in sight; A deep extensive, warping lake, With water birds on flight. While numbers on the surface float, Down diving o’er and o’er: With bumpkins in the pleasure boat, Launching from shore to shore. Grey game, and Grouse in num’rous broods, About Greenlighton Hill; Where piping Pan his flocks he feeds, Around that humble vill. By dawn of day, Mary and Bett, Hies to the birney knows; Where blithsome many a morn we’ve met, At milking of the ewes. By Maria’s mean courtesy taught, When flocks did chance to roam; I wore them to the milking Bought, And bore her leglin home. |
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