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IV. Of W. W. (Britannicus).
Poetic lamentation on the insufficiency of
steam locomotion in the Lake district.
Bright Summer spreads his various hueO'er nestling vales and mountains steep,Glad birds are singing in the blue,In joyous chorus bleat the sheep.But men are walking to and fro,Are riding, driving far and near,And nobody as yet can goBy train to Buttermere.
The sunny lake, the mountain track,The leafy groves are little gain,While Rydal's pleasant pathways lackThe rattle of the passing train.But oh! what poet would not singThat heaven-kissing rocky cone,On whose steep side the railway kingShall set his smoky throne?
Helvellyn in those happy daysWith tunnelled base and grimy peakWill mark the lamp's approaching rays,Will hear the whistle's warning shriek:Will note the coming of the mails,And watch with unremitting stareThe dusky grove of iron railsWhich leads to Euston-square.
