Thomas Chatterton's 1769 poem 'Clifton' is, in some ways, an example of conventional couplet landscape or topographical verse. The speaker stands at Clifton overlooking Bristol from south to east. We move, in his mind, from point to point of the prospect, witnessing the thought, memory, or moral of each. Within the seven scenes, the range of historical allusion (geological to immediate present) and tone (from homely to sublime) show no detectable pattern. However, the long eulogy at the end grounds the verse in melancholy.
The speaker stands at Clifton, near Hotwells, overlooking Bristol and the surrounding countryside from south to east. The poem moves from point to point in this prospect, hearing the thought, memory, or moral elicited from each. The seven scenes, the range of historical allusion from the geological to the immediate past, and the range of tone from the sublime to the homely show no discernible pattern, but the long eulogy of the actor Powell concludes the piece in entrenched melancholy.
from 'Clifton'
Yon dusky rocks that from the stream arise, In rude rough grandeur threat the distant skies, Seem as if nature, in a painful throe, With dire convulsions labouring to and fro, (To give the boiling waves a ready vent) At one dread stroke the solid mountain rent; The huge cleft rocks transmit to distant fame The sacred gilding of a good saint's name. [st vincent’s rocks?] […] Now Brandon's cliffs [above St George’s Road] my wandering gazes meet, Whose craggy surface mocks the lingering feet; Queen Bess's gift [QEH], (so ancient legends say) To Bristol's fair; where to the sun's warm ray On the rough bush the linen white they spread, Or deck with russet leaves the mossy bed. […] Yon castle [Bristol Castle - Castle Park], erst of Saxon standards proud, Its neighbouring meadows dyed with Danish blood. Then of its later fate a view I take: Here the sad monarch lost his hope's last stake; When Rupert bold, of well-achieved renown, Stained all the fame his former prowess won. But for its ancient use no more employed, Its walls all mouldered and its gates destroyed; In history's roll it still a shade retains, Though of the fortress scarce a stone remains. ]Changes position (‘of the city takes a nearer view’)] The yellow Avon, creeping at my side, In sullen billows rolls a muddy tide; No sportive Naiads on her streams are seen, No cheerful pastimes deck the gloomy scene; Fixed in a stupor by the cheerless plain, For fairy flights the fancy toils in vain: For though her waves, by commerce richly blest, Roll to her shores the treasures of the west, Though her broad banks trade's busy aspect wears, She seems unconscious of the wealth she bears. […] under Brandon's hill, There wanders Jacob's ever-murmuring rill, That, pouring forth a never-failing stream, To the dim eye restores the steady beam. Here too (alas! though tottering now with age) Stands our deserted, solitary stage, Where oft our Powel, Nature's genuine son, With tragic tones the fixed attention won.