|NOTES from DR SYNTAX'S TOUR, 1812|
Plate 16 opposite p.111:-
DOCTOR SYNTAX SKETCHING THE LAKE.
An angler looks on:-
The town of Keswick reach'd at last,
Where he his famous work prepar'd,
Of all his toil the hop'd reward.
Soon as the morn began to break,
Old Grizzle bore him to the lake,
Along its banks he gravely pac'd
And all its various beauties trac'd;
When, lo, a threatening storm appear'd
Phoebus the scene no longer cheer'd:
The dark clouds sink on ev'ry hill;
The floating mists the valleys fill:
Nature, transform'd, began to lour,
And threaten'd a tremendous show'r.
"I love," he cry'd, "to hear the rattle
"When elements contend to battle;
"For I insist, tho' some may flout it,
"Who write about it and about it,
"That we the picturesque may find
"In thunder loud, or whistling wind;
"And often, as I fully ween,
"It may be heard as well as seen;
"For, tho' a pencil cannot trace
"A sound as it can paint a place,
"The pen, in its poetic rage,
"Can make it figure on the page."
A fisherman, who pass'd that way,
Thought it civility to say -
"An' please you, Sir, 'tis all in vain
"To take your prospect in the rain;
"On horseback too you'll ne'er be able,-
"'Twere better, sure, to get a table,"
"Thanks," Syntax said, "for your advice,
"And faith I'll take it in a trice;
"For, as I'm moisten'd to the skin,
"I'll seek a table at the inn."
But Grizzle, in her haste to pass,
Lur'd by a tempting tuft of grass,
A luckless step now chanc'd to take,
And sous'd the Doctor in the lake;
But,as it prov'd, no worse disater
Befell poor Grizzle or her master,
Than both of them could well endure
And a warm inn would shortly cure.
To tha warm inn they quickly hied,
Where Syntax, by the fire-side,
Sat in his landlord's garments clad,
But neither sorrowful or sad;
Nor did he waste his hours away,
But gave his pencil all its play,
And trac'd the landscapes of the day.