When will wonders cease, we may justly enquire,
When we see a Glass Engine, complete and entire,
In fine working order, from boiler to beam,
And working away under full head of steam.
Boilers and pistons are hardly the stuff of romantic poetry, yet inspiring they were to some 19th-century bards. In this case, one William Somers wrote an entire poem about a steam engine made of glass.
As fanciful as it might sound, there were quite a few glass steam engines that Somers could have seen during his lifetime. These fully-functional models were made and displayed by itinerant glassworkers as part of their shows. Popularized by the Woodroffe brothers in the mid-1800s, they were constructed of hundreds of delicate, colorful pieces of glass.
Why would anyone make a steam engine out of glass? To prove that they could! These models were both a feat of glassmaking and a method of demonstrating how steam power functioned during a time when real steam engines powered machinery and many modes of transportation. Audiences were entranced, and newspaper reviews often recommended glassworkers’ shows for the engines alone.
Glassworkers promoted the engines heavily in their advertisements, giving them fanciful names like Fairy Queen, Excelsior, Columbia, and the Crystal Gem. They held poetry competitions and gave prizes to those who submitted the best verse. This is perhaps how William Somers came to write his poem. Here is his full composition:
The Glass Steam Engine
The world in its wisdom, has long stood aghast,
Supposing each step in its progress the last,
But still ’tis advancing by steady degrees,
‘Till we ask in amazement, when will wonders cease?
When will wonders cease, we may justly enquire,
When we see a Glass Engine, complete and entire,
In fine working order, from boiler to beam,
And working away under full head of steam.
Mechanics, and artisans, here may engage,
To study this exquisite work of the age,
Surpassing all others in wonder and skill,
And as ages roll by, ’twill a wonder be still.
An Engine of Glass! why, that can never be,
E’en in this wond’rous age of the world’s history,
Incredulity starts, in most utter surprise,
We can hardly believe the plain sight of our eyes;
But there it now stands in its pearly array,
The greatest achievement of this latter day,
Its parts all adjusted, by magical skill,
With all the minutia of whistle and bell.
Its joints, and its gearings, are finished with care,
No friction occurs, and not even a jar;
And when the hot steam is sent coursing its veins,
Like a war horse it pants to break loose from the reins.
An engine, transparent, instructive, and new,
Like a real thing of life with its vitals in view,
The steam from the boilers sends life to the heart,
And life it goes bounding throughout every part.
Then, hail to the progress of science and skill,
From whose storehouse such wonders are forthcoming still;
The palm we will render with pleasure and hope,
To this scientific Bohemian Troupe.
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