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.