Canisfamiliaris

The description of Bleatarn House is found in Book Two of a long poem called 'The Excursion', written in nine books by William Wordsworth in 1814.

In the passage reproduced below, the poet (Wordsworth) and his companion, ‘the Wanderer’, climb a fell ‘renowned for [its] splendid prospect far and wide’ and from the summit they gaze into ‘a little lowly Vale’, with ‘A liquid pool that glittered in the sun, And one bare dwelling far below’.

I like to think that he is describing the ascent of Lingmoor Fell well-known for its wonderful panoramic views with Blea Tarn and Bleatarn House far below. (in blue italics)

Incidentally, 'The Solitary' refers to a character that lives at Bleatarn House and not the dwelling itself.

The Excursion
Book Second The Solitary

'These serious words
Closed the preparatory notices
That served my Fellow-traveller to beguile
The way, while we advanced up that wide vale.
Diverging now (as if his quest had been
Some secret of the mountains, cavern, fall
Of water, or some lofty eminence,
Renowned for splendid prospect far and wide)
We scaled, without a track to ease our steps,
A steep ascent; and reached a dreary plain,
With a tumultuous waste of huge hill tops
Before us; savage region! which I paced
Dispirited: when, all at once, behold!
Beneath our feet, a little lowly vale,
A lowly vale, and yet uplifted high
Among the mountains; even as if the spot
Had been from eldest time by wish of theirs
So placed, to be shut out from all the world!
Urn-like it was in shape, deep as an urn;
With rocks encompassed, save that to the south
Was one small opening, where a heath-clad ridge
Supplied a boundary less abrupt and close;
A quiet treeless nook, with two green fields,
A liquid pool that glittered in the sun,
And one bare dwelling; one abode, no more!
It seemed the home of poverty and toil,
Though not of want: the little fields, made green
By husbandry of many thrifty years,
Paid cheerful tribute to the moorland house.
--There crows the cock, single in his domain:
The small birds find in spring no thicket there
To shroud them; only from the neighbouring vales
The cuckoo, straggling up to the hill tops,
Shouteth faint tidings of some gladder place.'

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

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