Your sport, my Lord, I cannot take, For I must go and hunt a lake; And while you chase the flying deer, I must fly off to Windermere. Instead of hallooing to a fox, I must catch echoes from the rocks; With curious eye and active scent, I on the Picturesque am bent.
It was customary, I am told, to dash by [the Lakes] with an exclamation or two of "Oh, how fine!" &c. – or as a gentleman said to Robin Partridge the day after we were upon Windermere, "Good God! how delightful! – how charming! – I could live here for ever! – Row on, row on, row on, row on;" and, after passing one hour of exclamations upon the Lake, and half an hour at Ambleside, he ordered his horses into his phaeton , and flew off to take (I doubt not) an equally flying view of Derwentwater.Joseph Budworth