A Cry From Derwentwater

Shall then the stream of ruinous Lodore Not fill the valley with its changeful sound Unchallenged! shall grey Derwent’s sacred bound Hear the harsh brawl and intermittent roar Of mocking waves upon an iron shore, Whereby nor health nor happiness is found!-- While steam-wains drag from Honister’s heart wound The long cooled ashes of its fiery core!

Burst forth ye sulphurous fountains, as ye broke On Skiddaw, lick the waters, blast the trees, And let men have the earth they would desire,-- As well go pass our children through the fire With shrieks, Cath-Belus, round thine altar’s smoke, As let old Derwent hear such sounds as these.

H.D. RAWNSLEY.

WRAY VICARAGE, AMBLESIDE.

This sonnet was first published in The Morning Post, December 17, 1844.--ED.