John Ray (1627-1705) was one of the pioneers of modern botany. A parson naturalist, he was the first to classify plants by species. He undertook a number of tours of Britain and Europe where he collected and described the local flora and topography.
The following passage, describing his visit to North East Yorkshire, is taken from Selected Remains of the Learned John Ray with his life. By William Derham published 1760.
We ascended the top of that noted hill, called Roseberry or Ounsberry Topping, the top whereof is like a sugar loaf and serves for a sea-mark. It may be seen at a great distance, viz. from Stanmore, which is in a right line above 20 Miles off. From hence we had a prospect of that pleasant and fruitful vale, part whereof is called Cleveland a country noted for a good breed of horses.
The ways here in winter time are very bad, and almost impassable, according to that proverbial Rhyme,
Cleveland in the Clay
Bring in two Soles, carry one away.
Near this hill we went to see a well celebrated for the cure of sore or dim eyes, and other diseases. Every one that washes in it, or receives benefit by it, ties a rag of linen or woollen on a shrub or bush near it, as an offering or acknowledgement.
The People of Gisburgh are civil, cleanly, and well-bred, contrary to the temper of the inhabitants of Whitby who, to us, seemed rude in behavior and sluttish.
In the way from Whitby to Gisburgh we passed by Freeburgh Hill which they told us was cast up by the Devil, at the entreaty of an old Witch, who desired it, that from thence she might espy her cow in the moor.
Image – National Portrait Gallery / Public domain
Since high enthroned on Ida's fateful plain Sat Odin, when the Northmen hither roved They chose this throne-like hill for him they loved, Here o'er Valhalla should the great god reign; Hard by ran Mimir's fountain, whither, fain To know if Heimdals warning could be proved, When Asgard trembled and the earth was moved By Ragnarok, went Odin, but in vain. Fountain of sorrow, hill-top dark with fate. The cloud pavilions reared upon thine height, The stars that tremble o'er thee, speak of woe; Yet this of solace have we, that we know Neither the day we shall be desolate, Nor that dread hour when o'er us falls the night. Sonnets Round the Coast by Hardwicke Drummond Rawnsley. Pub. 1887 thanks to Graeme Chappell