Water hath many a devious way,
Which, like a naughty woman, leads
The best of men to strange misdeeds:
Had nearly, 'twas a toss-up whether,
Gone to his grave and end together.
How the performance went amiss
The _classical_ account is this--

The Naiads, Thames' stream that swim in,
Being _curious_, just like mortal _women_,
Dear souls! 'tis said, midst all their cares,
They love to peep at man's affairs,
And wondering at the workmen's hammers,
The noise of axes, engines, rammers,
Thought 'twould be well, nor meant the fun ill,
To make an opening through the Tunnel,
Just to see how the work went on,
And then, down dash'd they, every one;
When these same _belles_ began to dire,
'Twas well the workmen 'scaped alive:
Brunel, indeed, who knew full well
The nature of a _diving bell_,
Remain'd some time, nor made wry faces,
Within their aqueous embraces;
Nay, fierce and ungallant, adventured
To oust them by the breach they entered.
Vain man! 'twas well that he could swim,
Or, certes, they had ousted _him_.
Speed on great projects! though we rate 'em
_Rash_, for alluvial pomatum,