An annual regatta takes place on Derwentwater, when the several sports
of racing, rowing, and wrestling, are maintained with great spirit.
The following is an excellent description of one of these occasions in
former times:--"At eight o'clock in the morning a vast concourse of
ladies and gentlemen appeared on the side of Derwent Lake, where a
number of marquees, extending about 400 yards, were erected for their
accommodation. At twelve, such of the company as were invited by Mr.
Pocklington passed over in boats to the island which bears his name;
and, on their landing, were saluted by a discharge of his artillery,
consisting of five four pounders and one nine pounder. This might
properly be called the opening of the regatta; for as soon as the echo
of this discharge had ceased, a signal gun was fired, and five boats,
which lay upon their oars (on that part of the lake which runs nearest
the town of Keswick), instantly pushed off the shore and began the race.
A view from any of the attendant boats, of which there were several,
presented a scene which beggars all description. The sides of the hoary
mountains were clad with spectators, and the glassy surface of the lake
was variegated with numbers of pleasure barges, which, trimmed out in
all the gayest colours, and glittering in the rays of the meridian sun,
gave a new appearance to the celebrated beauties of this matchless vale.
The contending boats passed Pocklington's Island, and rounding St.
Herbert's Isle and Rampsholme, edged down by the outside of Lord's
Island, describing, in the race, almost a perfect circle, and, during
the greatest part of it, in full view of the company.
"About three o'clock preparations were made for a sham attack on
Pocklington's Island. The fleet, consisting of several barges, armed
with small cannon and muskets, retired out of view, behind Friar Crag,
to prepare for action; previous to which a flag of truce was sent to the
governor, with a summons to surrender on honourable terms. A defiance
was returned; soon after which the fleet was seen advancing with great
spirit before the batteries, and instantly forming a curved line, a
terrible cannonading began on both sides, accompanied with a dreadful
discharge of musketry. This continued for some time, and being echoed
from hill to hill in an amazing variety of sounds, filled the ear with
whatever could produce astonishment and awe. All nature seemed to be in
an uproar; which impressed, on the awakened imagination, the most lively
ideas of "the war of elements" and "crush of worlds." After a severe
conflict, the enemies were driven from the attack in great disorder. A
_feu-de-joie_ was then fired in the port, and oft repeated by the
responsive echoes. The fleet, after a little delay, formed again; and
practising a variety of beautiful manoeuvres, renewed the attack. Uproar
again sprung up, and the deep-toned echoes of the mountains again joined
in solemn chorus; which was heard at the distance of ten leagues to
leeward, through the easterly opening of that vast amphitheatre, as far
as Appleby.
"The garrison at last capitulated; and the entertainment of the water
being finished, towards the evening the company rowed to Keswick, to
which place, from the water's edge, a range of lamps was fixed, very
happily disposed, and a number of fire-works played off. An assembly
room, which was built for the purpose, next received the ladies and
gentlemen, and a dance concluded this annual festivity.
"Whilst we sat to regale, the barge put off from shore, to a station
where the finest echoes were to be obtained from the surrounding
mountains. The vessel was provided with six brass cannon, mounted on
swivels; on discharging one of these pieces the report was echoed from
the opposite rocks, where, by reverberation, it seemed to roll from
cliff to cliff, and return through every cave and valley, till the
decreasing tumult died away upon the ear.
"The instant it ceased the sound of every distant waterfall was heard;
but for an instant only; for the momentary stillness was interrupted by
the returning echo on the hills behind; where the report was repeated
like a peal of thunder bursting over our heads, continuing for several
seconds, flying from haunt to haunt, till once more the sound gradually
declined. Again the voice of waterfalls possessed the interval, till to
the right the more distant thunders arose upon some other mountains, and
seemed to take its way up every winding dale and creek; sometimes
behind, on this side, or on that, in wondrous speed running its dreadful
course; when the echo reached the mountains within the line and channel
of the breeze, it was heard at once on the right and left at the
extremities of the lake. In this manner was the report of every
discharge re-echoed seven times distinctly."
The following descriptive poem appeared on the occasion of a regatta at
Keswick:--
"Scarcely had day's bright god begun his course,
And chas'd the misty vapours from the lake,
When, ardent all for pleasure, forth there sprung
A bright assemblage of firm, active youths,
And virgins blushing like the op'ning bud.
Nay, some there were who sought the sportive scene
Whom frozen age had bow'd with iron hand;
Drawn by the force of curiosity,
Or by the workings of parental care,
To watch and guard their blooming daughter's steps.
The neigh'bouring rustics, too, with massy limbs,
Inur'd to toil, inur'd to fun and rain;
Each led his fav'rite damsel to the sight,
And talk'd of love, or laugh'd with hearty roar.
"And now the vessels all in order range,
To try the fortune of the wat'ry race.
The rowers sit; their eyes with ardour glow,
Attentive watching the appointed sign.
And now the gun, the signal for the course.
Rends with its iron voice th' o'ervaulting sky,
And distant rocks, redoubling, echo back
The horrid note. Instantly they start,
And, adverse looking, try their utmost skill.
Big swells each bulky muscle, strain'd with toil;
O'er their knit brows the drops of labour pour,
Whilst on their faces anxious fear and hope
Alternate sit depicted. Now they come
Almost within the grasp of victory:
Then, then what rapture fires the victor's mind,
When with his toil-strained arm he shakes the flag,
And shouts, applauding, echo all around.
"Now o'er the azure lake the horrid din
Of mimic war resounds; the echoing cliffs
Reverberate, in doubled thunder, back
The awful sounds: fierce peal succeeds to peal,
In savage dire confusion. Had the rocks,
Which awful frown above this limpid plain,
Been shaken from their venerable seats,
Rift by the bolts of Jove, and scattered round,
No sound more loud, more awful, could be heard!
The hero, who, inur'd to bloody war,
Has stood by Elliot, or by Rodney's side,
Whilst million-winged deaths were whistling round,
Now feels his heart beat high; strong throbs each pulse,
His kindling eyes flash fire: upright he stands,
As when on some dread, memorable day
He saw the Frenchmen strike, or Spaniards burn.
His tender spouse, the dear, the soft reward
Of all his toils, astonish'd with the din,
Clings to his side, half-pleased and half-afraid;
When softer echoes roll the distant roar,
She smiles; but when the air-affrighting guns
With iron clamours shake th' impending rocks,
She trembling presses hard her husband's hand,
And weeps to think the perils he has 'scap'd.
"But hark! 'tis silent! see, the fleet retires!
The mellow horns now pour victorious sounds,
Whilst every rock returns the softened strain.
O! now for Shakspeare, or for Milton's muse,
To paint this mingled tide of harmony!
Each cliff, each rock, each mountain, wood, and dale,
Return a varied note; it floats in air;
It mixes, meets, returns; 'tis soft, 'tis loud:
As if th' unnumber'd spirits of the rock
Held their aërial concerts 'midst the hills;
And to his golden harp each join'd his voice,
To welcome to their bower the 'Fairy Queen.'
"Thus joyous and delightful pass'd the day,
Yet not unruffled was this tide of joy:
The fair, the innocent Amelia was
The pride and flower of all the virgin throng!
Her long Damoetas loved, she too loved him,
But looks alone revealed the mutual flame,
For virgin modesty had bound their thoughts
In chains, as yet unbroken. On this day,
Whilst she in rapture viewed th' enchanting scene
(Urged by the motion of the limpid wave),
Her vessel rolling, headlong plunged her in
The blue profound! She sank, then rose again;
Then sank, to rise no more! Damoetas, near,
Beheld her fall: of life regardless then,
He leaped into the flood; with nervous arm
He cut the crystal deep, and plunging down,
Seized, and brought her up again to life.
"Restored now, she op'd her radiant eyes,
And looking gratitude ineffable,
'Is it then you, Damoetas? you whom long
My virgin heart hath own'd!' She could no more:
The rosy hue again forsook her cheek,
The light her eyes, and pallid death awhile
Seemed to return and re-demand his prey.
What then, Damoetas, were the dire alarms
That rent thy manly bosom? Love, despair,
Grief, and astonishment, exert at once
The utmost of their force to tear thy soul!
But see, the rose again resumes its seat
Upon her cheek! again her op'ning eye
Beams softened lustre! Kneeling by her side
Damoetas press'd her hand; in falt'ring words
Propos'd his am'rous suit. Her parents near,
Relieved now from the heart-corroding fear,
First poured in tender words their grateful hearts,
Then to Damoetas gave the willing hand
Of their beloved Amelia. Instant joy
Flushed lively in his cheek, and fired his heart
With all the rapt'rous bliss of mutual love.
He tried in vain to speak, for words, alas!
Could ill express tumultuous joys like his;
He stammer'd, blush'd, and thanked them in thought.
"And now the fiery charioteer of day
Drove down the western steep his blazing car,
When homeward all return to close their sports,
And usher in with dance the sable night.
The sprightly music sounds, the youths advance,
And blooming virgins from the beauteous group:
Then joined in couples, active as the light,
They tread the mazy dance; the swains the while
Join in sweet toil, and press the given hand,
And slyly talk of love; or else, askance,
Speak by their looks the feelings of the heart."