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\   STUDIA    IN    / 


This  book  belongs  to 

THE   LIBRARY 

of 
VICTORIA  UNIVERSITY 

Toronto  5,  Canada 


THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF 

WILLIAM    WORDSWORTH 


ALFOXDEN 


THE 


POETICAL  WORKS 


OF 


WILLIAM   WORDSWORTH 


EDITED  BY 


WILLIAM    KNIGHT,    LL.D., 


PROFESSOR   OF   MORAL   PHILOSOPHY,  ST   ANDREWS. 


VOLUME    SEVENTH 

EDINBURGH: 
WILLIAM     PATERSON 

MDCCCLXXXV. 


7 


CONTENTS. 


ECCLESIASTICAL  SONNETS.     IN  SERIES- 
PART  I. — FROM  THE  INTRODUCTION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  INTO 
BRITAIN,   TO  THE  CONSUMMATION  OF  THE  PAPAL 
DOMINION — 

I.  INTRODUCTION.             .....  3 

II.  CONJECTURES.              ....  4 

III.  TREPIDATION  OF  THE  DRUIDS.            ...  5 

IV.  DRUIDICAL  EXCOMMUNICATION.                      .            .  6 
V.  UNCERTAINTY.             .....  6 

VI.  PERSECUTION.                          ....  7 

VII.  RECOVERY.      ......  8 

VIII.  TEMPTATIONS  FROM  ROMAN  REFINEMENTS.     .            .  8 

IX.  DISSENSIONS.               .....  9 

X.  STRUGGLE  OF  THE  BRITONS  AGAINST  THE  BARBARIANS.  10 
XI.  SAXON  CONQUEST.       .            .            .            .            .11 

XII.  MONASTERY  OF  OLD  BANGOR.             .            .            .  12 

XIII.  CASUAL  INCITEMENT.  .  .  .  .13 

XIV.  GLAD  TIDINGS.                                                  .  14 
XV.  PAULINUS.       .            .            .            .            .            .15 

XVI.  PERSUASION.   .  15 

XVII.  CONVERSION.    .                                                .  17 

XVIII.  APOLOGY.        .            .  17 

XIX.  PRIMITIVE  SAXON  CLERGY.     .                        .            .  18 

XX.  OTHER  INFLUENCES.    .                                    .  19 

XXI.  SECLUSION.      .            .  19 

XXII.  CONTINUED.     ...  20 

XXIII.  REPROOF 21 

XXIV.  SAXON  MONASTERIES,  AND  LIGHTS  AND  SHADES  OF 

THE  RELIGION.                                               .            •  22 


viii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

ECCLESIASTICAL  SONNETS — continued. 

XXV.  MISSIONS  AND  TRAVELS.        .  23 

XXVI.  ALFRED.        .            .  23 

XXVII.  His  DESCENDANTS.     .  25 

XXVIII.  INFLUENCE  ABUSED.  .  25 

XXIX.  DANISH  CONQUESTS.              ....  26 

XXX.  CANUTE.        .  .  .  .  .  .27 

XXXI.  THE  NORMAN  CONQUEST.      ....  28 

XXXII.  COLDLY  WE  SPAKE.     THE  SAXONS,  OVERPOWERED.  29 

XXXIII.  THE  COUNCIL  OF  CLERMONT.            ...  29 

XXXIV.  CRUSADES.    ...  30 
XXXV.  RICHARD  I.               .            .            .            .            .31 

.XXXVI.  AN  INTERDICT.         .            .  32 

XXXVII.  PAPAL  ABUSES.        .            .  33 

XXXVIII.  SCENE  IN  VENICE.                .                                     .  33 

XXXIX.  PAPAL  DOMINION.                ....  34 
PART  II. — To  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  TROUBLES  IN  THE  REIGN 
OF  CHARLES  I. — 

I.    HOW  SOON — ALAS  !    DID  MAN,  CREATED  PURE.            .  35 

II.  FROM    FALSE    ASSUMPTION    ROSE,    AND    FONDLY 

HAILED.                       .....  35 

III.  CISTERTIAN  MONASTERY.    ....  36 

IV.  DEPLORABLE  HIS  LOT  WHO  TILLS  THE  GROUND.      .  37 
V.  MONKS  AND  SCHOOLMEN.     ....  38 

VI.  OTHER  BENEFITS.                ....  38 

VII.  CONTINUED.             .....  39 

VIII.  CRUSADERS.  .  .  .  .  .40 

IX.  As    FAITH    THUS    SANCTIFIED    THE    WARRIOR'S 

CREST.      .....  41 

X.  WHERE  LONG  AND   DEEPLY    HATH    BEEN   FIXED 

THE  ROOT.            .....  41 

XL  TRANSUBSTANTIATION.         .  42 

XII.  THE  VAUDOIS.        .            .  43 

XIII.  PRAISED  BE  THE  RIVERS,  FROM  THEIR  MOUNTAIN 

SPRINGS.  ...  .43 

XIV.  WALDENSES.           .            .  44 
XV.  ARCHBISHOP  CHICHELY  TO  HENRY  V.       .  45 

XVI.  WARS  OF  YORK  AND  LANCASTER.  46 

XVII.  WICLIFFE.               .  47 

XVIII.  CORRUPTIONS  OF  THE  HIGHER  CLERGY.  48 


CONTENTS.  ix 

ECCLESIASTICAL  SONNETS — continued. 

XIX.  ABUSE  OF  MONASTIC  POWER.          .            .  43 

XX.  MONASTIC  VOLUPTUOUSNESS.          .                       .  49 

XXI.  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  MONASTERIES.           .  50 

XXII.  THE  SAME  SUBJECT.            .            .  50 

XXIII.  CONTINUED.             .....  51 

XXIV.  SAINTS.       ...  52 
XXV.  THE  VIRGIN.           .            .  53 

XXVI.  APOLOGY.                .....  54 

XXVII.  IMAGINATIVE  REGRETS.      ....  54 

XXVIII.  REFLECTIONS.         .....  55 

XXIX.  TRANSLATION  OF  THE  BIBLE.         ...  56 

XXX.  THE  POINT  AT  ISSUE.         ....  56 

XXXI.  EDWARD  VI.           .....  57 

XXXII.  EDWARD  SIGNING  THE  WARRANT  FOR  THE  EXECU- 
TION OF  JOAN  OF  KENT.            ...  58 

XXXIII.  REVIVAL  OF  POPERY.          .            .  58 

XXXIV.  LATIMER  AND  RIDLEY.       ....  59 
XXXV.  CRANMER.               .....  60 

XXXVI.  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE  RE- 
FORMATION.       .  .  .  .  .61 

XXXVII.  ENGLISH  REFORMERS  IN  EXILE.     ...  62 

XXXVIII.  ELIZABETH.             .            .  63 

XXXIX.  EMINENT  REFORMERS.        ....  64 

XL.  THE  SAME.              ....  65 

XLI.  DISTRACTIONS.        .....  66 

XLII.  GUNPOWDER  PLOT.             ....  67 

XLIII.  ILLUSTRATION.        .....  67 

XLIV.  TROUBLES  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIRST.            .            .  68 

XLV.  LAUD.         ......  69 

XLVI.  AFFLICTIONS  OF  ENGLAND.             ...  70 

PART  III. — FROM  THE  RESTORATION  TO  THE  PRESENT  TIMES — 

I.  I  SAW  THE  FIGURE  OF  A  LOVELY  MAID.     .            .  71 

II.  PATRIOTIC  SYMPATHIES.                 .            .            .  72 

III.  CHARLES  THE  SECOND.       ....  73 

IV.  LATITUDINARIANISM.          ....  74 
V.  WALTON'S  BOOK  OF  LIVES.            ...  74 

VI.  CLERICAL  INTEGRITY.        ....  75 

VII.  PERSECUTION  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  COVENANTERS.     .  76 


x  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

ECCLESIASTICAL  SONNETS— continued. 

VIII.  ACQUITTAL  OF  THE  BISHOPS.         ...  77 

IX.  WILLIAM  THE  THIRD.        ....  78 

X.  OBLIGATIONS  OF  CIVIL  TO  KELIGIOUS  LIBERTY.    .  78 

XI.  SACHEVEREL.          .            .            .                        .  79 

XII.  DOWN    A   SWIFT    STREAM,   THUS    FAR,  A  BOLD 

DESIGN.    ......  80 

XIII.  ASPECTS  OF  CHRISTIANITY  IN  AMERICA. — i.  THE 

PILGRIM  FATHERS.           .            .            .            .  81 

XIV.  ii.  CONTINUED.      .....  82 

XV.  in.  CONCLUDED — AMERICAN  EPISCOPACY.           .  82 

XVI.  BISHOPS  AND  PRIESTS,  BLESSED  ARE  YE,  IF  DEEP.  83 

XVII.  PLACES  OF  WORSHIP.        ....  83 

XVIII.  PASTORAL  CHARACTER.     .  84 

XIX.  THE  LITURGY.       ....  85 

XX.  BAPTISM.               .....  86 

XXI.  SPONSORS.             .....  87 

XXII.  CATECHISING.        .....  87 

XXIII.  CONFIRMATION.      .....  88 

XXIV.  CONFIRMATION  CONTINUED.           ...  88 
XXV.  SACRAMENT.          ...                        .89 

XXVI.  THE  MARRIAGE  CEREMONY.         ...  90 

XXVII.  THANKSGIVING  AFTER  CHILDBIRTH.          .            .  90 

XXVIII.  VISITATION  OF  THE  SICK.              .  91 

XXIX.  THE  COMMINATION  SERVICE.        ...  92 

XXX.  FORMS  OF  PRAYER  AT  SEA.           ...  92 

XXXI.  FUNERAL  SERVICE.           ....  93 

XXXII.  EURAL  CEREMONY.           ...  93 

XXXIII.  REGRETS.               .            .  94 

XXXIV.  MUTABILITY.        .  95 

XXXV.  OLD  ABBEYS.        .            .  95 

XXXVI.  EMIGRANT  FRENCH  CLERGY.         .            .            .  96 

XXXVII.  CONGRATULATION.            .  97 

XXXVIII.  NEW  CHURCHES.  97 

XXXIX.  CHURCH  TO  BE  ERECTED.  98 

XL.  CONTINUED.          .                             ^  99 

XLI.  NEW  CHURCH-YARD.       ...  99 

XLII.  CATHEDRALS,  ETC.           .  100 

XLIII.  INSIDE  OF  KING'S  COLLEGE  CHAPEL,  CAMBRIDGE.  101 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGS 

ECCLESIASTICAL  SONNETS — continued. 

XLIV.  THE  SAME.  .  .101 

XLV.  CONTINUED.          .                        ...  102 

XL VI.  EJACULATION.      .....  102 

XLVII.  CONCLUSION.        .                        ...  103 

MEMORY.    ........  104 

To  THE  LADY  FLEMING,  ON  SEEING  THE  FOUNDATION  PREPARING 

TOR  THE  ERECTION  OF  EYDAL  CHAPEL,  WESTMORELAND.         .  105 

ON  THE  SAME  OCCASION.    ......  110 

NOT  LOVE,  NOT  WAR,  NOR  THE  TUMULTUOUS  SWELL.       .  .  112 

A  VOLANT  TRIBE  OF  BARDS  ON  EARTH  ARE  FOUND.          .  .  113 

To—      — 114 

To 114 

HOW  RICH  THAT  FOREHEAD'S  CALM  EXPANSE.         .  .  .115 

To-        — 116 

A  FLOWER  GARDEN,  AT  COLEORTON  HALL,  LEICESTERSHIRE.      .        118 
To  THE  LADY  E.  B.  AND  THE  HON.  Miss  P.         .  .  .120 

To  THE  TORRENT  AT  THE  DEVIL'S  BRIDGE,  NORTH  WALES,  1824.        122 
COMPOSED  AMONG  THE  EUINS  OF  A  CASTLE  IN  NORTH  WALES.    .        123 
ELEGIAC  STANZAS.  ......        124 

CENOTAPH.  .  .  .  .  .'  .127 

EPITAPH  IN  THE  CHAPEL- YARD  OF  LANGDALE,  WESTMORELAND.        128 
THE  PILLAR  OF  TRAJAN.  .....        130 

THE  CONTRAST.      .  .  .  .  .  .  .137 

To  A  SKYLARK.      .  .  .  .  .  .  .139 

ERE  WITH  COLD  BEADS  OF  MIDNIGHT  DEW.  .  .  .        140 

ODE,  COMPOSED  ON  MAY  MORNING.  ....        141 

To  MAY.  ....  143 

ONCE  I  COULD  HAIL  (HOWE'ER  SERENE  THE  SKY).  .  .        147 

THE  MASSY  WAYS,  CARRIED  ACROSS  THESE  HEIGHTS.        .  .        149 

FAREWELL  LINES.  .  .  .  .  .  .150 

ON  SEEING  A  NEEDLECASE  IN  THE  FORM  OF  A  HARP.       .  .        152 

MISCELLANEOUS  SONNETS — 

DEDICATION.  .  .  .  .  .  .154 

HER  ONLY  PILOT  THE  SOFT  BREEZE,  THE  BOAT.        .  .        155 

WHY,  MINSTREL,  THESE  UNTUNEFUL  MURMURINGS.  .        155 

To  S.  H .  .156 

DECAY  OF  PIETY.       ......        157 

SCORN  NOT  THE  SONNET  ;  CRITIC,  YOU  HAVE  FROWNED.        .        158 


xii  CONTENTS. 

MISCELLANEOUS  SOCKETS— continued. 

FAIR  PRIME  OF  LIFE  !  WERE  IT  ENOUGH  TO  GILD. 


159 


KETIREMENT. 

THERE  is  A  PLEASURE  IN  POETIC  PAINS. 

EECOLLECTION  OF  THE  PORTRAIT  OF  KING  HENRY  EIGHTH, 

TRINITY  LODGE,  CAMBRIDGE.      .  161 

WHEN  PHILOCTETES  IN  THE  LEMNIAN  ISLE.  161 

WHILE  ANNA'S  PEERS  AND  EARLY  PLAYMATES  TREAD.  163 

To  THE  CUCKOO.         .  163 

THE  INFANT  M M .  164 

ToKoTHAQ .       .            .  165 

To ,  IN  HER  SEVENTIETH  YEAR. 

IN  MY  MIND'S  EYES  A  TEMPLE,  LIKE  A  CLOUD.  166 

GO  BACK  TO  ANTIQUE  AGES,  IF  THINE  EYES.  167 

IN  THE  WOODS  OF  EYDAL. 

CONCLUSION.                .  169 

A  JEWISH  FAMILY.            ...  170 

INCIDENT  AT  BRUGES.        ....  173 

A  MORNING  EXERCISE.      ....  175 

THE  TRIAD .  178 

THE  WISHING-GATE.      *  .            .            .            .            .  187 

THE  WISHING-GATE  DESTROYED.               .                         .  190 

THE  GLEANER.       ....  192 

ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND.             ....  194 

GOLD  AND  SILVER  FISHES  IN  A  VASE.       ....  204 

LIBERTY.     (SEQUEL  TO  THE  ABOVE.)         .                         .  206 

HUMANITY.            .......  212 

THIS  LAWN,  A  CARPET  ALL  ALIVE.            .            .            .            .  217 

THOUGHT  ON  THE  SEASONS.  .  .  .  .  .219 

A  GRAVE-STONE  UPON  THE  FLOOR  IN  THE  CLOISTERS  OF  WORCES- 
TER CATHEDRAL.        ......  220 

A  TRADITION  OF  OKER  HILL  IN  DARLEY  DALE,  DERBYSHIRE.     .  221 

THE  ARMENIAN  LADY'S  LOVE.      .....  222 

THE  KUSSIAN  FUGITIVE.                .....  229 

THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID  ;  OR,  THE  KOMANCE  OF  THE  WATER  LILY.  243 

THE  POET  AND  THE  CAGED  TURTLEDOVE.              .            .            .  256 

PRESENTIMENTS.                  ......  257 

INSCRIPTION  INTENDED  FOR  A  STONE  IN  THE  GROUNDS  OF  EYDAL 

MOUNT,  1835.                                                                             .  260 


CONTENTS.  xiii 

PAGE 

ELEGIAC  MUSINGS.             .....  261 

CHATSWORTH  !  THY  STATELY  MANSION,  AND  THE  PRIDE.             .  264 

To  THE  AUTHOR'S  PORTRAIT.         .....  264 

THE  PRIMROSE  OF  THE  EOCK.        .....  266 

YARROW  EEVISITED,  AND  OTHER  POEMS — 

I.  THE  GALLANT  YOUTH,  WHO  MAY  HAVE  GAINED.     .  270 
II.  ON  THE  DEPARTURE  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  FROM 

ABBOTSFORD,  FOR  NAPLES.      ....  275 

III.  A  PLACE  OF  BURIAL  IN  THE  SOUTH  OF  SCOTLAND.  275 
IY.  ON  THE  SIGHT  OF  A  MANSE  IN  THE  SOUTH  OF 

SCOTLAND.            .....  276 

Y.  COMPOSED  IN  EOSLIN  CHAPEL,  DURING  A  STORM.  277 

VI.  THE  TROSSACHS.       .....  278 

VII.  THE  PIBROCH'S  NOTE,  DISCOUNTENANCED  OR  MUTE.  279 
VIII.  COMPOSED  AFTER  EEADING  A  NEWSPAPER  OF  THE 

DAY.         ......  280 

IX.  COMPOSED  IN  THE  GLEN  OF  LOCH  ETIVE.                .  280 

X.  EAGLES.        ......  281 

XI.  IN  THE  SOUND  OF  MULL.     ....  282 

XII.  SUGGESTED  AT  TYNDRUM  IN  A  STORM.         .            .  283 

XIII.  THE  EARL  OF  BREADALBANE'S  RUINED  MANSION, 

AND  FAMILY  BURIAL-PLACE,  NEAR  KlLLlN.  .  283 

XIV.  "  EEST  AND  BE  THANKFUL ! "  .  .  .  284 

XV.  HIGHLAND  HUT.      .  .  .  .  .285 

XVI.  THE  BROWNIE.          .  .  .  .  .286 

XVII.  To  THE  PLANET  VENUS,  AN  EVENING  STAR.  .        288 

XVIII.  BOTHWELL  CASTLE.  ....        288 

XIX.  PICTURE  OF  DANIEL    IN    THE    LIONS'  DEN,  AT 

HAMILTON  PALACE.          .  .  .  .        290 

XX.  THE  AVON.  .  .  .  .292 

XXI.  SUGGESTED  BY  A  VIEW  FROM  AN  EMINENCE   IN 

INGLEWOOD  FOREST.        ....        293 

XXII.  HART'S-HORN  TREE,  NEAR  PENRITH.          .  .294 

XXIII.  FANCY  AND  TRADITION.       .  .  .  .295 

XXIV.  COUNTESS'  PILLAR.  ....        295 
XXV.  EOMAN  ANTIQUITIES.  .  .  .  .296 

XXVI.  APOLOGY  FOR  THE  FOREGOING  POEMS.        .  .        297 

XXVII.  THE  HIGHLAND  BROACH.  .  .  .299 

DEVOTIONAL  INCITEMENTS.  ....        302 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CALM  is  THE  FRAGRANT  AIR,  AND  LOTH  TO  LOSE.                          .  305 

EURAL  ILLUSIONS.  306 

LOVING  AND  LIKING.  308 

UPON  THE  LATE  GENERAL  FAST.    .  310 

FILIAL  PIETY.        .  311 
To   B.   R  HAYDON,  ON  SEEING  HIS  PICTURE   OF   NAPOLEON 

BUONAPARTE  ON  THE  ISLAND  OF  ST  HELENA.           .            .  312 

IF  THOU  INDEED  DERIVE  THY  LlGHT  FROM  HEAVEN.        .            .  313 

A  WREN'S  NEST.               ......  315 

To  ,  UPON  THE  BIRTH  OF  HER  FIRST-BORN  CHILD, 

MARCH  1833.              ......  318 

THE  WARNING.    A  SEQUEL  TO  THE  FOREGOING    .            .            .  321 

IF  THIS  GREAT  WORLD  OF  JOY  AND  PAIN.            .            .            .  327 

ON  A  HIGH  PART  OF  THE  COAST  OF  CUMBERLAND.            .            .  327 

BY  THE  SEA-SIDE.              ......  328 

COMPOSED  BY  THE  SEA-SHORE.      .....  330 

To  THE  UTILITARIANS.      .  .  .  .  .  .331 

POEMS   COMPOSED    OR    SUGGESTED    DURING    A  TOUR    IN   THE 
SUMMER  OF  1833— 

I.  ADIEU,  EYDALIAN  LAURELS  !  THAT  HAVE  GROWN.  332 
II.  WHY    SHOULD    THE    ENTHUSIAST,    JOURNEYING 

THROUGH  THIS  ISLE.            ....  333 

III.  THEY  CALLED  THEE  MERRY  ENGLAND,   IN  OLD 

TIME.        ......  334 

IV.  To  THE  RIVER  GRETA,  NEAR  KESWICK.      .            .  334 
V.  To  THE  EIVER  DERWENT.                .            .            .  336 

VI.    IN  SIGHT  OF  THE  TOWN  OF  COCKERMOUTH.                   .  336 

VII.  ADDRESS    FROM    THE    SPIRIT    OF    COCKERMOUTH 

CASTLE.    ......  337 

VIII.  NUN'S  WELL,  BRIGHAM.      ....  338 

IX.  To  A  FRIEND.           .....  339 

X.  MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS.       ....  340 

XI.  STANZAS  SUGGESTED  IN  A  STEAM-BOAT  OFF  SAINT 

BEES'  HEADS,  ON  THE  COAST  OF  CUMBERLAND.  .  341 
XII.  IN    THE    CHANNEL,    BETWEEN    THE    COAST    OF 

CUMBERLAND  AND  THE  ISLE  OF  MAN.     .            .  349 

XIII.  AT  SEA  OFF  THE  ISLE  OF  MAN.       .            .            .  349 

XIV.  DESIRE  WE  ,PAST  ILLUSIONS  TO  REGAL  1        .           .  350 

XV.    ON  ENTERING  DOUGLAS  BAY,  ISLE  OF  MAN.                .  351 

XVI.  BY  THE  SEA-SHORE,  ISLE  OF  MAN.  353 


CONTENTS.  xv 

PAGE 

POEMS    COMPOSED    OR    SUGGESTED    DURING    A    TOUR    IN    THE 
SUMMER  OF  1833 — continued. 

XVII.  ISLE  OF  MAN.          .....  352 

XVIII.  ISLE  OF  MAN.           .....  353 

XIX.    BY  A  RETIRED  MARINER.       ....  354 

XX.  AT  BALA-SALA,  ISLE  OF  MAN.       .            .            .  355 

XXI.  TYNWALD  HILL.      .....  356 

XXII.  DESPOND  WHO  WILL — /  HEARD  A  VOICE  EXCLAIM.  358 

XXIII.  IN  THE  FRITH  OF  CLYDE,  AILSA  CRAG,  DURING  AN 

ECLIPSE  OF  THE  SUN,  JULY  17.   .            .            .  358 

XXIV.  ON  THE  FRITH  OF  CLYDE.                .            .            .  360 

XXV.    ON  REVISITING  DUNOLLY  CASTLE.                     .                 .  361 

XXVI.  THE  DUNOLLY  EAGLE.         .  .  .  .362 

XXVII.  WRITTEN  IN  A  BLANK  LEAF  OF  MACPHERSON'S 

OSSIAN.                 .....  363 

XXVIII.  CAVE  OF  STAFFA.     .....  366 

XXIX.  CAVE  OF  STAFFA.  AFTER  THE  CROWD  HAD  DEPARTED.  367 

XXX.  CAVE  OF  STAFFA.     .                        ...  367 

XXXI.  FLOWERS  ON  THE  TOP  OF  THE  PILLARS  AT  THE 

ENTRANCE  OF  THE  CAVE.             .            .            .  368 

XXXII.  IONA.  .  .  .  .  .369 

XXXIII.  IONA.     (UPON  LANDING.)     .  .  .  .370 

XXXIV.  THE  BLACK  STONES  OF  IONA.          .            .            .  371 
XXXV.  HOMEWARD  WE  TURN.     ISLE  OF  COLUMBA'S  CELL.  371 

XXXVI.,  GREBNOCK. 372 

XXXVII.  "  THERE  ! "    SAID  A   STRIPLING,   POINTING    WITH 

MEET  PRIDE.         .....  373 

XXXVIII.  THE  RIVER  EDEN,  CUMBERLAND.!               .            .  374 
XXXIX.  MONUMENT  OF  MRS  HOWARD,  IN  WETHERAL  CHURCH, 

NEAR  CORBY,  ON  THE  BANES  OF  THE  EDEN.            .  375 

XL.  SUGGESTED  BY  THE  FOREGOING.       .  .  .376 

XLI.  NUNNERY.                 377 

XLII.  STEAM-BOATS,  VIADUCTS,  AND  RAILWAYS.              .  378 
XLIII.  THE  MONUMENT  COMMONLY  CALLED  LONG  MEG 

AND  HER  DAUGHTERS,  NEAR  THE  RIVER  EDEN.  379 

XLIV.  LOWTHER.                 380 

XLV.  To  THE  EARL  OF  LONSDALE.            .            .            .  381 

XLVI.  THE  SOMNAMBULIST.             ....  382 

XLVII.  To  CORDELIA  M 388 

XLVIII.  MOST  SWEET  IT  is  WITH  UNUPLIFTED  EYES.            .  389 


xvi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

NOT  IN  THE  LUCID  INTERVALS  OF  LlFE.  .  .  .        390 

BT  THE  SIDE  OF  KYDAL  MERE.     .  .  .  .  .3.91 

SOFT  AS  A  CLOUD  is  YON  BLUE  KIDGE — THE  MERE.          .  .        393 

THE  LEAVES  THAT  RUSTLED  ON  THIS  OAK-CROWNED  HILL.  .        394 

THE  LABOURER'S  NOON-DAY  HYMN.         ....        395 

THE  EEDBREAST.  .  .  397 


APPENDIX. 
NOTE  A.     .  .  401 


WORDSWORTH'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 


1821-2. 

THE  only  poems  belonging  to  the  years  1821-22  are  the  Ecclesiastical 
Sonnets,  originally  called  Ecclesiastical  Sketches.  These  were  written  at 
intervals,  from  1821  onwards,  but  the  great  majority  belong  to  that 
year.  They  were  first  published  in  1822,  in  three  parts,  102  Sonnets  in 
all.  Ten  were  added  in  the  edition  of  1827,  several  others  in  the  years 
1835  and  1836,  and  fourteen  in  1845, — the  final  edition  of  1850  contain- 
ing 132. 

After  Wordsworth's  return  from  the  Continent  in  1820,  he  visited 
the  Beaumonts  at  Coleorton,  and  as  Sir  George  was  then  about  to  build 
a  new  Church  on  his  property,  conversation  turned  frequently  to 
ecclesiastical  topics,  and  gave  rise  to  the  idea  of  embodying  the  history 
of  the  Church  of  England  in  a  series  of  Ecclesiastical  Sketches  in  verse. 
The  Sonnets  Nos.  XXXIX.,  XL.,  and  XLL,  in  the  third  series, 
entitled,  "Church  to  be  erected,"  and  "New  Churchyard,"  are 
probably  those  to  which  Wordsworth  refers  as  written  first,  in 
memory  of  his  morning  walk  with  Sir  George  Beaumont  to  fix  the 
site  of  the  Church  :  but  it  was  the  discussions  which  were  being  carried 
on  in  the  British  Parliament  and  elsewhere,  in  1821,  on  the  subject  of 
Catholic  Disabilities,  that  led  him  to  enlarge  his  idea,  and  project  a 
series  of  Sonnets  dealing  with  the  whole  course  of  the  ecclesiastical 
history  of  his  country.  His  brother  Christopher  had  published  six 
volumes  of  Ecclesiastical  Biography ;  or,  the  Lives  of  Eminent  Men 
connected  with  the  History  of  Religion  in  England,  in  1809,  while  Dean 
and  Hector  of  Booking,  and  domestic  chaplain  to  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  Southey's  Book  of  the  Church,— to  which  Wordsworth 
refers  in  the  Fen  wick  note  prefixed  to  the  series — was  not  published  till 
1823 ;  and  he  tells  us,  in  a  note  to  the  edition  of  1822,  that  his  own  work 
was  far  advanced  before  he  was  aware  that  Southey  had  taken  up  the 
subject.  As  several  of  the  Sonnets,  however,  are  very  well  illustrated 
by  passages  in  Southey's  book,  I  have  given  a  number  of  extracts  from 
the  latter  work  in  the  editorial  notes.  Wordsworth's  own  notes 
appended  to  the  Sonnets,  and  others  which  are  added,  will  show  his 
indebtedness  to  such  writers  as  Bede,  Strype,  Foxe,  Walton,  Whittaker, 
and  Sharon  Turner.  The  subject  of  the  Sonnets  on  the  «'  Aspects  of 
VII.  A 


2  ECCLESIASTICAL  SONNETS. 

Christianity  in  America"  were  suggested  to  him  by  Bishop  Doane  and 
Professor  Henry  Reed,  and  the  completion  of  the  series  dealing  with 
offices  of  the  English  Liturgy  was  also  suggested  by  Mr  Reed.— ED. 


ECCLESIASTICAL    SONNETS.* 
IN    SERIES. 

Comp.  1821.     Pub.  1822. 

[My  purpose  in  writing  this  Series  was,  as  much  as  possible,  to 
confine  my  view  to  the  introduction,  progress,  and  operation  of  the 
Church  in  England,  both  previous  and  subsequent  to  the  Reformation. 
The  Sonnets  were  written  long  before  ecclesiastical  history  and  points 
of  doctrine  had  excited  the  interest  with  which  they  have  been  recently 
enquired  into  and  discussed.  The  former  particular  is  mentioned  as 
an  excuse  for  my  having  fallen  into  error  in  respect  to  an  incident 
which  had  been  selected  as  setting  forth  the  height  to  which  the  power 
of  the  Popedom  over  temporal  sovereignty  had  attained,  and  the 

*  During  the  month  of  December,  1820,  I  accompanied  a  much-beloved 
and  honoured  Friend  hi  a  walk  through  different  parts  of  his  estate,  with 
a  view  to  fix  upon  the  site  of  a  new  Church  which  he  intended  to  erect.     It 
was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  mornings  of  a  mild  season, — our  feelings 
were  in  harmony  with  the  cherishing  *  influences  of  the  scene ;  and  such 
being  our  purpose,  we  were  naturally  led  to  look  back  upon  past  events 
with  wonder  and  gratitude,  and  on  the  future  with  hope..    Not  long  after- 
wards, some  of  the  Sonnets  which  will  be  found  towards  the  close  of  this 
series  were  produced  as  a  private  memorial  of  that  morning's  occupation. 

The  Catholic  Question,  which  was  agitated  in  Parliament  about  that 
time,  kept  my  thoughts  in  the  same  course  ;  and  it  struck  me  that  certain 
points  hi  the  Ecclesiastical  History  of  our  Country  might  advantageously 
be  presented  to  view  in  verse.  Accordingly,  I  took  up  the  subject,  and 
what  I  now  offer  to  the  reader  was  the  result. 

When  this  work  was  far  advanced,  I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find  that 
my  friend,  Mr  Southey,  had  been  engaged  with  similar  views  in  writing  a 
concise  History  of  the  Church  in  England.  If  our  Productions,  thus 
unintentionally  coinciding,  shall  be  found  to  illustrate  each  other,  it  will 
prove  a  high  gratification  to  me,  which  I  am  sure  my  friend  will  participate. 

W.  WOKDSWORTH. 

RYDAL  MOUNT,  January  24,  1822. 

For  the  convenience  of  passing  from  one  point  of  the  subject  to  another 
without  shocks  of  abruptness,  this  work  has  taken  the  shape  of  a  series  of 
Sonnets :  but  the  Reader,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  will  find  that  the  pictures  are 
often  so  elosely  connected  as  to  have  jointly  the  effect  of  passages  of  a 
poem  in  a  form  of  stanza  to  which  there  is  no  objection  but  one  that  bears 
upon  the  Poet  only— its  difficulty,— W.  W.,  1822. 

*  This  occurs  in  all  the  editions.     It  may  be  a  misprint  for  '  cheering. ' — ED. 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

arrogance  with  which  it  was  displayed.  I  allude  to  the  last  Sonnet 
but  one  in  the  first  series,  where  Pope  Alexander  the  Third  at  Venice 
is  described  as  setting  his  foot  on  the  neck  of  the  Emperor  Barbarossa. 
Though  this  is  related  as  a  fact  in  history,  I  am  told  it  is  a  mere 
legend  of  no  authority.  Substitute  for  it  an  undeniable  truth  not  less 
fitted  for  my  purpose,  namely  the  penance  inflicted  by  Gregory  the 
Seventh  upon  the  Emperor  Henry  the  Fourth. 

Before  I  conclude  my  notice  of  these  Sonnets,  let  me  observe  that 
the  opinion  I  pronounced  in  favour  of  Laud  (long  before  the  Oxford 
Tract  Movement),  and  which  had  brought  censure  upon  me  from 
several  quarters,  is  not  in  the  least  changed  Omitting  here  to 
examine  into  his  conduct  in  respect  to  the  persecuting  spirit  with 
which  he  has  been  charged,  I  am  persuaded  that  most  of  his  aims  to 
restore  ritual  practices  which  had  been  abandoned  were  good  and 
wise,  whatever  errors  he  might  commit  in  the  manner  he  sometimes 
attempted  to  enforce  them.  I  further  believe  that,  had  not  he,  and 
others  who  shared  his  opinions  and  felt  as  he  did,  stood  up  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  reformers  of  that  period,  it  is  questionable  whether  the 
Church  would  ever  have  recovered  its  lost  ground  and  become  the 
blessing  it  now  is,  and  will,  I  trust,  become  in  a  still  greater  degree, 
both  to  those  of  its  communion  and  to  those  who  unfortunately  are 
separated  from  it.] 

PAET    I. 

FROM  THE  INTRODUCTION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  INTO 
BRITAIN,  TO  THE  CONSUMMATION  OF  THE  PAPAL 
DOMINION. 

'  A  verse  may  catch  a  wandering  Soul,  that  flies 
Profounder  Tracts,  and  by  a  blest  surprise 
Convert  delight  into  a  Sacrifice.'  * 

I. 

INTEODUCTIOK 

I,  WHO  accompanied  with  faithful  pace x 
Cerulean  Duddon  from  his  cloud-fed  spring,! 
And  loved  with  spirit  ruled  by  his  to  sing 

1  1827. 

I,  who  descended  with  glad  step  to  chase  1822. 

*  Compare  George  Herbert — 

"A  verse  may  find  him,  who  a  Sermon  flies, 
And  turn  Delight  into  a  Sacrifice." 

— The  Temple,  I.  1.— ED. 
t  See  The  River  Duddon,  a  Series  of  Sonnets  (Vol.  VI.,  p.  300).— ED. 


1  CONJECTURES. 

Of  mountain-quiet  and  boon  nature's  grace ; l 
I,  who  essayed  the  nobler  Stream  to  trace 
Of  Liberty,*  and  smote  the  plausive  string 
Till  the  checked  torrent,  proudly  triumphing, 
Won  for  herself  a  lasting  resting-place  ;  2 
Now  seek  upon  the  heights  of  Time  the  source 
Of  a  HOLY  KIVEK,!  on  whose  banks  are  found 
Sweet  pastoral  flowers,  and  laurels  that  have  crowned 
Full  oft  the  unworthy  brow  of  lawless  force ; 
And,3  for  delight  of  him  who  tracks  its  course,  J 
Immortal  amaranth  and  palms  abound. 

II. 
CONJECTUEES. 

IF  there  be  prophets  on  whose  spirits  rest 

Past  things,  revealed  like  future,  they  can  tell 

What  Powers,  presiding  o'er  the  sacred  well 

Of  Christian  Faith,  this  savage  Island  blessed 

With  its  first  bounty.     Wandering  through  the  west, 

Did  holy  Paul  §  a  while  in  Britain  dwell, 

1  1827. 

And  of  my  wild  Companion  dared  to  sing, 

In  verse  that  moved  with  strictly -measured  pace  ;   1822. 

2  1827. 

torrent,  fiercely  combating, 
In  victory  found  her  natural  resting-place  ;  1822. 

3  1837. 

Where, 1822. 

*  See  the  Series  of  Sonnets  dedicated  to  Liberty  and  Independence. — ED. 

t  Compare  the  last  Sonnet  of  this  Series  (Part  III.,  47).— ED. 

$  It  may  not  be  unworthy  of  note  that  in  this  sonnet  Wordsworth  makes 
the  stream  of  the  Duddon  masculine,  that  of  Liberty  feminine,  and  that 
of  the  Church  neuter. — ED. 

§  Stillingfleet  adduces  many  arguments  in  support  of  this  opinion,  but 
they  are  unconvincing.  The  latter  part  of  this  Sonnet  refers  to  a  favourite 
notion  of  Roman  Catholic  writers,  that  Joseph  of  Arimathea  and  his  com- 
panions brought  Christianity  into  Britain,  and  built  a  rude  church  at 
Glastonbury ;  alluded  to  hereafter,  in  a  passage  upon  the  dissolution  of 
monasteries. — W.  W.,  1822 


TREPIDATION  OF  THE  DRUIDS. 

And  call  the  Fountain  forth  by  miracle, 
And  with  dread  signs  the  nascent  Stream  invest  ? 
Or  He,  whose  bonds  dropped  off,  whose  prison  doors 
Flew  open,  by  an  Angel's  voice  unbarred  ?  * 
Or  some  of  humbler  name,  to  these  wild  shores 
Storm-driven ;  who,  having  seen  the  cup  of  woe 
Pass  from  their  Master,  sojourned  here  to  guard 
The  precious  Current  they  had  taught  to  flow  ? 


in. 
TREPIDATION  OF  THE  DEUIDS. 

SCREAMS  round  the  Arch-druid's  brow  the  sea-mew  t — white 

As  Menai's  foam;  and  toward  the  mystic  ring 

Where  Augurs  stand,  the  Future  questioning, 

Slowly  the  cormorant  aims  her  heavy  flight, 

Portending  ruin  to  each  baleful  rite, 

That,  in  the  lapse  of  ages,1  hath  crept  o'er 

Diluvian  truths,  and  patriarchal  lore. 

Haughty  the  bard :  can  these  meek  doctrines  blight 

His  transports  ?  wither  his  heroic  strains  ? 

But  all  shall  be  fulfilled ; — the  Julian  spear 

A  way  first  opened ;  J  and,  with  Eoman  chains, 

The  tidings  come  of  Jesus  crucified ; 

They  come — they  spread — the  weak,  the  suffering,  hear ; 

Receive  the  faith,  and  in  the  hope  abide. 

1  1827. 

seasons        .        .  1822. 

*  St  Peter. —ED. 

t  This  water-fowl  was,  among  the  Druids,  an  emblem  of  those  traditions 
connected  with  the  Deluge  that  made  an  important  part  of  their  mysteries. 
The  Cormorant  was  a  bird  of  bad  omen. — W.  W.,  Ib22. 

£  The  reference  is  to  the  conquest  of  Britain  by  Julius  Caesar. — ED. 


UNCERTAINTY. 
IV. 

DKUIDICAL  EXCOMMUNICATION. 

MERCY  and  Love  have  met  thee  on  thy  road, 
Thou  wretched  Outcast,  from  the  gift  of  fire 
And  food  cut  off  by  sacerdotal  ire, 
From  every  sympathy  that  Man  bestowed  ! 
Yet  shall  it  claim  our  reverence,  that  to  God, 
Ancient  of  days  !  that  to  the  eternal  Sire, 
These  jealous  Ministers  of  law  aspire, 
As  to  the  one  sole  fount  whence  wisdom  flowed, 
Justice,  and  order.     Tremblingly  escaped 
As  if  with  prescience  of  the  coming  storm, 
That  intimation  when  the  stars  were  shaped ; 
And  still,  'mid  yon  thick  woods,  the  primal  truth 
Glimmers  through  many  a  superstitious  form 1 
That  fills  the  Soul  with  unavailing  ruth. 


v. 

UNCEETAINTY. 

DAKKKESS  surrounds  us :  seeking,  we  are  lost 
On  Snowdon's  wilds,  amid  Brigantian  coves,* 
Or  where  the  solitary  shepherd  roves 
Along  the  plain  of  Sarum,  by  the  ghost 
Of  Time  and  shadows  of  Tradition,  crost ; 2 
And  where  the  boatman  of  the  Western  Isles 
Slackens  his  course — to  mark  those  holy  piles 

1  1827. 

And  yon  thick  woods  maintain  the  primal  truth, 
Debased  by  many  a  superstitious  form,  1822. 

2  1827. 

Of  silently  departed  ages  crossed  ;  1822. 

*  The  reference  is  to  Yorkshire.  The  Brigantes  inhabited  England  from 
sea  to  sea,  from  Cumberland  to  Durham,  but  more  especially  Yorkshire. 
See  Tacitus,  Annals,  Book  xii.  32;  Ptolemy,  Geog.,  27,  1;  Camden, 
Brit.,  556-648.— ED. 


PERSECUTION.  7 

Which  yet  survive  on  bleak  lona's  coast* 
Nor  these,  nor  monuments  of  eldest  name,1 
NOT  Taliesin's  unforgotten  lays,t 
Nor  characters  of  Greek  or  Koman  fame, 
To  an  unquestionable  Source  have  led : 
Enough — if  eyes,  that  sought  the  fountain-head 
In  vain,  upon  the  growing  Rill  may  gaze. 

YI. 
PERSECUTION. 

LAMENT  !  for  Diocletian's  fiery  sword 

Works  busy  as  the  lightning ;  but  instinct 

With  malice  ne'er  to  deadliest  weapon  linked, 

Which  God's  ethereal  store-houses  afford : 

Against  the  Followers  of  the  incarnate  Lord 

It  rages ; — some  are  smitten  in  the  field — 

Some  pierced  to  the  heart  through  the  ineffectual  shield2 

Of  sacred  home  ; — with  pomp  are  others  gored 

And  dreadful  respite.     Thus  was  Alban  tried,  | 

1  1843. 

fame,  1822. 

*  1843. 

Some  pierced  beneath  the  unavailing  shield  1822. 

Some  pierced  beneath  the  ineffectual  shield  1827. 

*  Compare  the  four  sonnets  on  lona,  in  the  '  Poems  composed  or  sug- 
gested during  a  Tour  in  the  Summer  of  1833.' — ED. 

t  See  note  t,  p.  12.— ED. 

J  "  The  first  man  who  laid  down  his  life  in  Britain  for  the  Christian  faith 
was  Saint  Alban.  .  .  .  During  the  tenth,  and  most  rigorous  of  the  persecu- 
tions, a  Christian  priest,  flying  from  his  persecutors,  came  to  the  City  of 
Verulamium,  and  took  shelter  in  Alban's  house  :  he,  not  being  of  the  faith 
himself,  concealed  him  for  pure  compassion  ;  but  when  he  observed  the  devo- 
tion of  his  guest,  how  fervent  it  was,  and  how  firm,  his  heart  was  touched. 
.  .  .  When  the  persecutors  came  to  search  the  house,  Alban,  putting  on  the 
hair-cassock  of  his  teacher,  delivered  himself  into  their  hands,  as  if  he  had 
been  the  fugitive,  and  was  carried  before  the  heathen  governor.  .  .  .  Because 
he  refused  to  betray  his  guest  or  offer  sacrifices  to  the  Roman  gods,  he  was 
scourged,  and  then  led  to  execution  upon  the  spot  where  the  abbey  now 
stands,  which  in  after  times  was  erected  to  his  memory,  and  still  bears  hia 


8  TEMPTATIONS  FROM  ROMAN  REFINEMENTS. 

England's  first  Martyr,  whom  no  threats  could  shake ; 
Self-offered  victim,  for  Ms  friend  he  died, 
And  for  the  faith ;  nor  shall  his  name  forsake 
That  Hill,  whose  flowery  platform  seems  to  rise 
By  Nature  decked  for  holiest  sacrifice.* 

VII. 

RECOVERY. 

As,  when  a  storm  hath  ceased,  the  birds  regain 

Their  cheerfulness,  and  busily  retrim 

Their  nests,  or  chant  a  gratulating  hymn 

To  the  blue  ether  and  bespangled  plain ; 

Even  so,  in  many  a  re-constructed  fane, 

Have  the  survivors  of  this  Storm  renewed 

Their  holy  rites  with  vocal  gratitude : 

And  solemn  ceremonials  they  ordain 

To  celebrate  their  great  deliverance  ; 

Most  feelingly  instructed  'mid  their  fear — 

That  persecution,  blind  with  rage  extreme, 

May  not  the  less,  through  Heaven's  mild  countenance, 

Even  in  her  own  despite,  both  feed  and  cheer ; 

For  all  things  are  less  dreadful  than  they  seem. 

VIII. 

TEMPTATIONS  FROM  ROMAN  REFINEMENTS. 

WATCH,  and  be  firm  !  for  soul-subduing  vice, 
Heart-killing  luxury,  on  your  steps  await. 

name.  That  spot  was  then  a  beautiful  meadow  upon  a  little  rising  ground, 
'seeming,'  says  the  venerable  Bede,  'a  fit  theatre  for  the  martyr's 
triumph.'"— Southey's  Book  of  the  Church,  Vol.  L,  p.  14.— ED. 

*  The  hill  at  St  Alban's  must  have  been  an  object  of  great  interest  to  the 
imagination  of  the  venerable  Bede,  who  thus  describes  it,  with  a  delicate 
feeling,  delightful  to  meet  with  in  that  rude  age,  traces  of  which  are 
frequent  in  his  works: — "Variis  herbarum  floribus  depictus,  im6  usque- 
quaque  vestitus,  in  quo  nihil  repente  arduum,  nihil  prseceps,  nihil 


DISSENSIONS.  9 

Fair  houses,  baths,  and  banquets  delicate, 

And  temples  flashing,  bright  as  polar  ice, 

Their  radiance  through  the  woods — may  yet  suffice 

To  sap  your  hardy  virtue,  and  abate 

Your  love  of  Him  upon  whose  forehead  sate 

The  crown  of  thorns ;  whose  life-blood  flowed,  the  price 

Of  your  redemption.     Shun  the  insidious  arts 

That  Eome  provides,  less  dreading  from  her  frown 

Than  from  her  wily  praise,  her  peaceful  gown, 

Language,  and  letters ; — these,  though  fondly  viewed 

As  humanising  graces,  are  but  parts 

And  instruments  of  deadliest  servitude ! 

IX. 

DISSENSIONS. 

THAT  heresies  should  strike  (if  truth  be  scanned 

Presumptuously)  their  roots  both  wide  and  deep, 

Is  natural  as  dreams  to  feverish  sleep. 

Lo !  Discord  at  the  altar  dares  to  stand  *  • 

Uplifting  toward  l  high  Heaven  her  fiery  brand, 

A  cherished  Priestess  of  the  new-baptized ! 

But  chastisement  shall  follow  peace  despised. 

The  Pictish  cloud  darkens  the  enervate  land 

By  Eome  abandoned ;  vain  are  suppliant  cries, 

And  prayers  that  would  undo  her  forced  farewell ; 

For  she  returns  not. — Awed  by  her  own  knell, 

1  1827. 

Lifting  towards        .....  1822. 

abruptum,  quern  lateribus  longe  lateque  deductum  in  modum  sequoris 
natura  complanat,  dignum  videlicet  eum,  pro  insita  sibi  specie  venustatis, 
jam  olim  reddens  qui  beati  martyris  cruore  dicaretur." — W.  W.,  1822. 

*  Arianism  had  spread  into  Britain,  and  British  Bishops  were  summoned 
to  councils  held  concerning  it,  at  Sardica,  A.D.  347,  and  at  Ariminum,  A.D. 
360.  See  Fuller's  Church  History,  p.  25  j  and  Churton's  Early  English 
Church,  p.  9.— ED. 


10  STRUGGLE  OF  THE  BRITONS. 

She  casts  the  Britons  upon  strange  Allies, 
Soon  to  become  more  dreadful  enemies 
Than  heartless  misery  called  them  to  repel. 


x. 

STKUGGLE  OF  THE  BRITONS  AGAINST  THE 
BARBARIANS. 

RISE  ! — they  have  risen :  of  brave  Aneurin  ask  * 
How  they  have  scourged  old  foes,  perfidious  friends  : 
The  Spirit  of  Caractacus  descends 
Upon  the  Patriots,  animates  their  task  ; l 
Amazement  runs  before  the  towering  casque 
Of  Arthur,  bearing  through  the  stormy  field 
The  Virgin  sculptured  -on  his  Christian  shield  : — 
Stretched  in  the  sunny  light  of  victory  bask 
The  Host 2  that  followed  Urien  t  as  he  strode 
^D'er  heaps  of  slain  ; — from  Cambrian  wood  and  moss 
Druids  descend,  auxiliars  of  the  Cross ; 
Bards,  nursed  on  blue  Plinlimmon's  still  abode,  | 
Rush  on  the  fight,  to  harps  preferring  swords, 
And  everlasting  deeds  to  burning  words  ! 

1  1837. 

The  spirit  of  Caractacus  defends 

The  Patriots,  animates  their  glorious  task  ;—  1822. 


1822. 


The  Hosts        .  1827. 


*  Aneurin  was  the  bard  who— hi  the  poem  named  the  Gododin — celebrated 
the  struggle  between  the  Cymri  and  the  Teutons  in  the  middle  of  the 
sixth  century,  which  ended  in  the  great  battle  of  Catterick,  or  Cattreath, 
in  Yorkshire.  Aneurin  was  himself  chieftain  as  well  as  bard.— ED. 

t  Urien  was  chief  of  the  Cymri,  and  led  them  in  the  great  conflict  of  the 
sixth  century  against  the  Angles. — ED. 

t  Such  as  Aneurin,  Taliesin,  Llywarch  Hen,  and  Merlin.— ED. 


SAXON  CONQUEST.  11 

XI. 

SAXON  CONQUEST. 

NOR  wants  the  cause  the  panic-striking  aid 

Of  hallelujahs*  tost  from  hill  to  hill — 

For  instant  victory.     But  Heaven's  high  will 

Permits  a  second  and  a  darker  shade 

Of  Pagan  night.     Afflicted  and  dismayed, 

The  Eelics  of  the  sword  flee  to  the  mountains  : 

0  wretched  Land  !  whose  tears  have  flowed  like  fountains  ; 

Whose  arts  and  honours  in  the  dust  are  laid 

By  men  yet  scarcely  conscious  of  a  care 

For  other  monuments  than  those  of  Earth  ;t 

Who,  as  the l  fields  and  woods  have  given  them  birth, 

Will 2  build  their  savage  fortunes  only  there ; 

1  1827. 

Intent,  as         ......  1322. 

2  1827. 

To 1822. 

*  Alluding  to  the  victory  gained  under  Germanus.— See  Bede. — W.  W., 
1822. 

The  Saxons  and  Piets  threatening  the  Britons,  the  latter  asked  the  assist- 
ance of  Germanus.  The  following  is  Bede's  account : — "Germanus  bearing 
in  his  hands  the  standard,  instructed  his  men  all  in  &  loud  voice  to  repeat 
his  words,  and  the  enemy  advancing  serenely,  as  thinking  to  take  them  by 
surprise,  the  priests  three  times  cried  Hallelujah.  A  universal  shout  of  the 
same  word  followed,  and  the  hills  resounding  the  echo  on  all  sides,  the 
enemy  was  struck  with  dread.  .  .  .  They  fled  in  disorder,  casting  away 
their  arms."— (Ecdes.  Hist.,  Book  I.,  ch.  20.)— ED. 

t  The  last  six  lines  of  this  Sonnet  are  chiefly  from  the  prose  of  Daniel ; 
and  here  I  will  state  (though  to  the  Headers  whom  this  Poem  will  chiefly 
interest  it  is  unnecessary)  that  my  obligations  to  other  prose  writers  are 
frequent, — obligations  which,  even  if  I  had  not  a  pleasure  in  courting,  it 
would  have  been  presumptuous  to  shun,  in  treating  an  historical  subject.  I 
must,  however,  particularise  Fuller,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  in  the  Sonnet 
upon  Wicliffe  and  in  other  instances.  And  upon  the  acquittal  of  the  Seven 
Bishops  I  have  done  little  more  than  versify  a  lively  description  of  that 
event  in  the  MS.  Memoirs  of  the  first  Lord  Lonsdale.— W.  W.,  1822. 


12          MONASTERY  OF  OLD  BANGOR. 

Content,  if  foss,  and  barrow,  and  the  girth 

Of  long-drawn  rampart,  witness  what  they  were.1 


XII. 

MONASTERY  OF  OLD   BANGOR* 

The  oppression  of  the  tumult — wrath  and  scorn — 

The  tribulation — and  the  gleaming  Hades — 

Such  is  the  impetuous  spirit  that  pervades 

The  song  of  Taliesin ;  t — Ours  shall  mourn 

The  unarmed  Host  who  by  their  prayers  would  turn 

The  sword  from  Bangor's  walls,  and  guard  the  store 

Of  Aboriginal  and  Roman  lore, 

And  Christian  monuments,  that  now  must  burn 

To  senseless  ashes.     Mark  !  how  all  things  swerve 

1  1827. 

Witness  the  foss,  the  barrow,  and  the  girth 

Of  many  a  long-drawn  rampart,  green  and  bare  !     1822. 

*  "  Ethelforth  reached  the  convent  of  Bangor,  he  perceived  the  Monks, 
twelve  hundred  in  number,  offering  prayers  for  the  success  of  their  country- 
men :  '  if  they  are  praying  against  us,'  he  exclaimed,  '  they  are  fighting 
against  us ; '  and  he  ordered  them  to  be  first  attacked :  they  were 
destroyed  ;  and,  appalled  by  their  fate,  the  courage  of  Brocmail 
wavered,  and  he  fled  from  the  field  in  dismay.  Thus  abandoned  by  their 
leader,  his  army  soon  gave  way,  and  Ethelforth  obtained  a  decisive  con- 
quest. Ancient  Bangor  itself  soon  fell  into  his  hands,  and  was  Demolished  ; 
the  noble  monastery  was  levelled  to  the  ground  ;  its  library,  which  is  men- 
tioned as  a  large  one,  the  collection  of  ages,  the  repository  of  the  most 
precious  monuments  of  the  ancient  Britons,  was  consumed ;  half  ruined 
walls,  gates,  and  rubbish  were  all  that  remained  of  the  magnificent  edifice." 
— See  Turner's  valuable  history  of  the  Anglo-Saxons. 

Taliesin  was  present  at  the  battle  which  preceded  this  desolation. 

The  account  Bede  gives  of  this  remarkable  event,  suggests  a  most  striking 
warning  against  National  and  Religious  prejudices. — W.  W.,  1822. 

t  Taliesin  was  chief  bard  and  retainer  in  the  Hall  of  Urien,  the  great 
North  England  Cymric  chief.  He  sang  of  Urien's  and  his  son  Owain's 
victories,  in  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century.  See  Pitsei,  Relationes  de  rebus 
Anglicis,  1619,  Vol.  I.,  p.  95,  De  Thelesino.  See  also  Sharon  Turner's 
History  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  (Vol.  I.,  Bk.  iii.,  ch.  4).— ED. 


CASUAL  INCITEMENT.  13 

From  their  known  course,  or  vanish  like  a  dream  j1 
Another  language  spreads  from  coast  to  coast ; 
Only  perchance  some  melancholy  Stream  * 
And  some  indignant  Hills  old  names  preserve,! 
When  laws,  and  creeds,  and  people  all  are  lost ! 

XIII. 

CASUAL  INCITEMENT. 

A  BRIGHT-HAIRED  company  of  youthful  slaves, 
Beautiful  strangers,  stand  within  the  pale 
Of  a  sad  market,  ranged  for  public  sale, 
Where  Tiber's  stream  the  immortal2  City  laves : 
ANGLI  by  name ;  and  not  an  ANGEL  waves 
His  wing  who  could  seem  lovelier  to  man's  eye3 
Than  they  appear  to  holy  Gregory ; 
Who,  having  learnt  that  name,  salvation  craves 
For  Them,  and  for  their  Land.     The  earnest  Sire, 
His  questions  urging,  feels,  in  slender  ties 
Of  chiming  sound,  commanding  sympathies : 
DE-IRIANS — he  would  save  them  from  God's  IRE  ; 
Subjects  of  Saxon  ^ELLA — they  shall  sing 
Glad  HALLE-lujahs  to  the  eternal  King  !  J 

1  1827. 

or  pass  away  like  steam  ;  1822. 

2  1827. 

glorious  .  .  .  1822. 

3  1837. 

His  wing  who  seemeth  lovelier  in  Heaven's  eye       1822. 

*  E.g.,  in  the  Lake  District,  the  Greta,  Derwent,  &c. — ED. 

t  E.g.,  in  the  Lake  District,  Stone  Arthur,  Blencatherac,  and  Catbells. 
-ED.' 

t  The  story  is  told  of  Gregory  who  was  afterwards  Pope,  and  is  known 
as  Gregory  the  Great,  that  "he  was  one  day  led  into  the  market-place  at 
Rome  to  look  at  a  large  importation  from  abroad.  Among  other  things 
there  were  some  boys  exposed  for  sale  like  cattle.  He  was  struck  by  the 
appearance  of  the  boys,  their  fine  clear  skins,  their  flaxen  or  golden  hair, 
and  their  ingenuous  countenances ;  so  that  he  asked  from  what  country 


14  GLAD  TIDINGS. 

XIV. 

GLAD  TIDINGS. 

FOR  ever  hallowed  be  this  morning  fair, 

Blest  be  the  unconscious  shore  on  which  ye  tread, 

And  blest  the  silver  Cross,  which  ye,  instead 

Of  martial  banner,  in  procession  bear ; 

The  Cross  preceding  Him  who  floats  in  air, 

The  pictured  Saviour  ! — By  Augustin  led, 

They  come — and  onward  travel  without  dread, 

Chanting  in  barbarous  ears  a  tuneful  prayer — 

Sung  for  themselves,  and  those  whom  they  would  free  ! 

Eich  conquest  waits  them : — the  tempestuous  sea 

Of  Ignorance,  that  ran  so  rough  and  high 

And  heeded  not  the  voice  of  clashing  swords, 

These  good  men  humble  by  a  few  bare  words, 

And  calm  with  fear  of  God's  divinity.* 


they  came ;  and  when  he  was  told  from  the  island  of  Britain,  .  .  .  and 
were  Angles,  he  played  upon  the  word  and  said,  '"Well  may  they  be  so 
called,  for  they  are  like  Angels.'  .  .  .  Then  demanding  from  what  province 
they  were  brought,  the  answer  was  '  from  Deira  ; '  and  in  the  same  humour 
he  observed  that  rightly  might  this  also  be  said,  for  de  Dei  ira,  from  the 
wrath  of  God  were  they  to  be  delivered.  And  when  he  was  told  that  their 
King  was  ^Ella,  he  replied  that  Hallelujahs  ought  to  be  sung  in  his 
dominions.  This  trifling  sprung  from  serious  thought.  From  that  day  the 
conversion  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  become  a  favourite  object  with  Gregory." — 
(Southey's  Boole  of  the  Church,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  22,  23).— ED. 

*  Augustin  was  prior  of  St  Gregory's  Monastery,  dedicated  to  St 
Andrew  in  Rome,  and  was  sent  by  Gregory  in  the  year  597  with  several 
other  monks  into  Britain.  Ethelbert  was  then  king  of  Kent,  and,  as  they 
landed  on  the  Isle  of  Thanet,  he  ordered  them  to  stay  there.  According 
to  Bede,  "  Some  days  after,  the  king  came  into  the  island  and  ordered 
Augustin  and  his  companions  to  be  brought  into  his  presence.  .  .  .  They 
came  .  .  .  bearing  a  silver  cross  on  their  banner,  and  an  image  of  our  Lord 
and  Saviour  painted  on  a  board ;  and  singing  the  litany  they  offered  up 
their  prayers  to  the  Lord  for  the  eternal  salvation  both  of  themselves  and 
of  those  to  whom  they  were  come."— (Eccles.  Hist.,  Book  I.,  c.  25.)— ED. 


PERSUASION.  15 

XV. 
PAULINUS.* 

BUT,  to  remote  Northumbria's  royal  Hall, 

Where  thoughtful  Edwin,  tutored  in  the  school 

Of  sorrow,  still  maintains  a  heathen  rule, 

Who  comes  with  functions  apostolical  ? 

Mark  him,  of  shoulders  curved,  and  stature  tall, 

Black  hair,  and  vivid  eye,  and  meagre  cheek, 

His  prominent  feature  like  an  eagle's  beak ; 

A  Man  whose  aspect  doth  at  once  appal 

And  strike  with  reverence.     The  Monarch  leans 

Towards  the  pure  truths1  this  Delegate  propounds, 

Eepeatedly  his  own  deep  mind  he  sounds 

With  careful  hesitation, — then  convenes 

A  synod  of  his  Councillors : — give  ear, 

And  what  a  pensive  Sage  doth  utter,  hear  !f 

XVI. 

PEKSUASION. 

"  MAN'S  life  is  like  a  Sparrow, }  mighty  King  ! 
"  That — while  at  banquet  with  your  Chiefs  you  sit 

1  1832. 

Towards  the  Truths 1822. 

Towards  the  truth  .....  1827. 

*  The  person  of  Paulinus  is  thus  described  by  Bede,  from  the  memory  of 
an  eye-witness: — "Longse  staturse,  paululum  incurvus,  nigro  capillo,  facie 
macilenta,  naso  adunco,  pertenui  venerabilis  simul  et  terribilis  aspectu." — 
W.  W.,  1822. 

t  Paulinus  won  over  Edwin,  king  of  the  Northumbrians,  to  the  Christian 
faith,  and  baptised  him  "with  his  people,"  A.D.  627.  (See  The  Anglo- 
Saxon  Chronicle.} — ED. 

J  See  the  original  of  this  speech  in  Bede. — The  Conversion  of  Edwin,  as 
related  by  him,  is  highly  interesting — and  the  breaking  up  of  this  Council 
accompanied  with  an  event  so  striking  and  characteristic,  that  I  am 
tempted  to  give  it  at  length  in  a  translation.  "Who,  exclaimed  the  King, 
when  the  Council  was  ended,  shall  first  desecrate  the  altars  and  the 
temples?  I,  answered  the  chief  priest,  for  who  more  fit  than  myself, 


1 6  PERSUASION. 

"Housed  near  a  blazing  fire — is  seen  to  flit 

"  Safe  from  the  wintry  tempest.     Fluttering,1 

"  Here  did  it  enter ;  there,  on  hasty  wing, 

"  Flies  out,  and  passes  on  from  cold  to  cold ; 

"  But  whence  it  came  we  know  not,  nor  behold 

"  Whither  it  goes.     Even  such,  that  transient  Thing, 

"  The  human  Soul ;  not  utterly  unknown 

"  While  in  the  Body  lodged,  her  warm  abode  ; 

"  But  from  what  world  She  came,  what  woe  or  weal 

"  On  her  departure  waits,  no  tongue  hath  shown ; 

"  This  mystery  if  the  Stranger  can  reveal, 

"  His  be  a  welcome  cordially  bestowed  ! " 

1  1837. 

"  That,  stealing  in  while  by  the  fire  you  sit 

"  Housed  with  rejoicing  Friends,  is  seen  to  flit 

"  Safe  from  the  storm,  in  comfort  tarrying.  1822. 

through  the  wisdom  which  the  true  God  hath  given  me,  to  destroy,  for  the 
good  example  of  others,  what  in  foolishness  I  worshipped  ?  Immediately, 
casting  away  vain  superstition,  he  besought  the  King  to  grant  him  what 
the  laws  did  not  allow  to  a  priest,  arms  and  a  courser  (equum  emmis- 
sarium) ;  which  mounting,  and  furnished  with  a  sword  and  lance,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  destroy  the  Idols.  The  crowd,  seeing  this,  thought  him  mad — 
he  however  halted  not,  but  approaching  he  profaned  the  temple,  casting 
against  it  the  lance  which  he  had  held  in  his  hand,  and,  exulting  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  worship  of  the  true  God,  he  ordered  his  companions 
to  pull  down  the  temple,  with  all  its  enclosures.  The  place  is  shown  where 
those  idols  formerly  stood,  not  far  from  York,  at  the  source  of  the  river 
Derwent,  and  is  at  this  day  called  Gormund  Gaham,  "ubi  pontifex  ille, 
inspirante  Deo  vero,  polluit  ac  destruxit  eas,  quas  ipse  sacraverat  aras." 
The  last  expression  is  a  pleasing  proof  that  the  venerable  monk  of  Wear- 
mouth  was  familiar  with  the  poetry  of  Virgil. — W.  W.,  1822. 

The  following  is  Bede's  account  of  the  speech  of  "  another  of  the  king's 
chief  men:" — " The  present  life  of  man,  O  king,  seems  to  me  hi  comparison 
of  that  time  which  is  unknown  to  us,  like  to  the  swift  flight  of  a  sparrow 
through  the  room  wherein  you  sit,  at  supper  in  winter,  with  your  com- 
manders and  ministers,  and  a  good  fire  in  the  midst,  whilst  the  storms  of 
rain  and  snow  prevail  abroad.  The  sparrow,  I  say — flying  in  at  one  door, 
and  immediately  out  at  another — whilst  he  is  within,  is  safe  from  the  misty 
storm  ;  but,  after  a  short  space  of  fair  weather,  he  immediately  vanishes  out 
of  your  sight  into  the  dark  winter  from  which  he  had  emerged.  So  this 
life  of  man  appears  for  a  short  space,  but  of  what  went  before,  and  of  what 
is  to  follow,  we  are  utterly  ignorant.  If  therefore  this  new  doctrine 
contains  something  more  certain,  it  seems  justly  to  deserve  to  be  followed." 

—ED. 


APOLOGY.  1 7 

XVII. 
CONVEKSIOK* 

PROMPT  transformation  works  the  novel  Lore ; 

The  Council  closed,  the  Priest  in  full  career 

Bides  forth,  an  armed  man,  and  hurls  a  spear 

To  desecrate  the  Fane  which  heretofore 

He  served  in  folly.     Woden  falls,  and  Thor 

Is  overturned :  the  mace,  in  battle  heaved 

(So  might  they  dream)  till  victory  was  achieved, 

Drops,  and  the  God  himself  is  seen  no  more. 

Temple  and  Altar  sink,  to  hide  their  shame 

Amid  oblivious  weeds,     "  0  come  to  me, 

Ye  heavy  laden  !  "  such  the  inviting  voice 

Heard  near  fresh  streams  ;  t  and  thousands,  who  rejoice 

In  the  new  Eite — the  pledge  of  sanctity — 

Shall,  by  regenerate  life,  the  promise  claim. 

xvni. 
APOLOGY. 

NOR  scorn  the  aid  which  Fancy  oft  doth  lend 
The  Soul's  eternal  interests  to  promote  : 
Death,  darkness,  danger,  .are  our  natural  lot .; 
And  evil  Spirits  may  our  walk  attend 
For  aught  the  wisest  know  or  comprehend.; 
Then  be  good  Spirits  free  *  to  breathe  a  note 

1  1827. 

Then  let  the  good  be  free        .  1822. 

*  See  Wordsworth's  note  to  Sonnet  XVI.— ED. 

t  The  early  propagators  of  Christianity  were  accustomed  to  preach  near 
rivers,  for  the  convenience  of  baptism.  — W.  W.,  1822. 

VII.  B 


1 8  PRIMITIVE  SAXON  CLERGY. 

Of  elevation ;  let  their  odours  float 
Around  these  Converts  :  and  their  glories  blend, 
The  midnight  stars  outshining,1  or  the  blaze 
Of  the  noon-day.     ISTor  doubt  that  golden  cords 
Of  good  works,  mingling  with  the  visions,  raise 
The  Soul  to  purer  worlds  :  and  who  the  line 
Shall  draw,  the  limits  of  the  power  define, 
That  even  imperfect  faith  to  man  affords  ? 


XIX. 

PRIMITIVE  SAXON  CLERGY.* 

How  beautiful  your  presence,  how  benign, 

Servants  of  God !  who  not  a  thought  will  share 

With  the  vain  world ;  who,  outwardly  as  bare 

As  winter  trees,  yield  no  fallacious  sign 

That  the  firm  soul  is  clothed  with  fruit  divine  ! 

Such  Priest,  when  service  worthy  of  his  care 

Has  called  him  forth  to  breathe  the  common  air. 

Might  seem  a  saintly  Image  from  its  shrine 

Descended : — happy  are  the  eyes  that  meet 

The  Apparition  ;  evil  thoughts  are  stayed 

At  his  approach,  and  low-bowed  necks  entreat 

A  benediction  from  his  voice  or  hand ; 

Whence  grace,  through  which  the  heart  can  understand, 

And  vows,  that  bind  the  will,  in  silence  made. 

1  1837. 

Outshining  nightly  tapers,         ....         1822. 

*  Having  spoken  of  the  zeal,  disinterestedness,  and  temperance  of  the 
clergy  of  those  times,  Bede  thus  proceeds :— "  Unde  et  in  magna  erat 
veneratione  tempore  illo  religionis  habitus,  ita  ut  ubicunque  clericus  aliquis, 
aut  monachus  adveniret,  gaudenter  ab  omnibus  tanquam  Dei  famulus 
exciperetur.  Etiam  si  in  itinere  pergens  inveniretur,  accurrebant,  et  nex& 
cervice  vel  manu  signari,  vel  ore  illius  se  benedici,  gaudebant.  Verbis 
quoque  horum  exhortatoriis  diligenter  auditum  prtebebant."  Lib.  iii.  cap. 
26.— W.  W.,  1822. 


SECLUSION.  1 9 

XX. 

OTHEE  INFLUENCES. 

AH,  when  the  Body,1  round  which  in  love  we  clung, 

Is  chilled  by  death,  does  mutual  service  fail  ? 

Is  tender  pity  then  of  no  avail  ? 

Are  intercessions  of  the  fervent  tongue 

A  waste  of  hope  ? — From  this  sad  source  have  sprung 

Eites  that  console  the  Spirit,  under  grief 

Which  ill  can  brook  more  rational  relief : 

Hence,  prayers  are  shaped  amiss,  and  dirges  sung 

For  Souls  2  whose  doom  is  fixed  !     The  way  is  smooth 

For  Power  that  travels  with  the  human  heart : 

Confession  ministers  the  pang  to  soothe 

In  him  who  at  the  ghost  of  guilt  doth  start. 

Ye  holy  Men,  so  earnest  in  your  care, 

Of  your  own  mighty  instruments  beware  ! 

XXI. 

SECLUSION. 

LANCE,  shield,  and  sword  relinquished,  at  his  side 

A  bead-roll,  in  his  hand  a  clasped  book, 

Or  staff  more  harmless  than  a  shepherd's  crook, 

The  war-worn  Chieftain  quits  the  world — to  hide 

His  thin  autumnal  locks  where  Monks  abide 

In  cloistered  privacy.      But  not  to  dwell 

In  soft  repose  he  conies.     Within  his  cell, 

li«»; 

Frame,         ....  1822. 

2  1832. 

For  those  .  .  1S22. 


20  SECLUSION. 

Bound  the  decaying  trunk  of  human  pride, 

At  morn,  and  eve,  and  midnight's  silent  hour, 

Do  penitential  cogitations  cling ; 

Like  ivy,  round  some  ancient  elm,  they  twine 

In  grisly  folds  and  strictures  serpentine ;  * 

Yet,  while  they  strangle,  a  fair  growth  they  bring,1 

For  recompense — their  own  perennial  bower. 


XXII. 

CONTINUED. 

METHINKS  that  to  some  vacant  hermitage 
My  feet  would  rather  turn — to  some  dry  nook 
Scooped  out  of  living  rock,  and  near  a  brook 
Hurled  down  a  mountain-cove  from  stage  to  stage, 
Yet  tempering,  for  my  sight,  its  bustling  rage 
In  the  soft  heaven  of  a  translucent  pool ; 
Thence  creeping  under  sylvan  2  arches  cool, 
Fit  haunt  of  shapes  whose  glorious  equipage 
Would  elevate  3  my  dreams,  t     A  beechen  bowl, 
A  maple  dish,  my  furniture  should  be ; 
Crisp,  yellow  leaves  my  bed ;  the  hooting  owl 
My  night-watch :  nor  should  e'er  the  crested  fowl 

1  1837. 

strangle  without  mercy,  bring          1822. 

2  1837. 

forest    .    .    .       1822. 

3  1837. 

Perchance  would  throng        ....  1822. 

*  The  "ancient  elm,"  with  ivy  twisting  round  it  "in  grisly  folds  and 
strictures  serpentine,"  which  suggested  these  lines,  grew  in  Rydal  Park, 
near  the  path  to  the  upper  waterfall. — ED. 

t  There  are  several  natural  "hermitages"  such  as  this  near  the  Rydal 
beck. — ED. 


REPROOF.  21 

From  thorp  or  vill  his  matins  sound  for  me, 
Tired  of  the  world  and  all  its  industry. 


XXIII. 

REPROOF. 

BUT  what  if  One,  through  grove  or  flowery  mead, 

Indulging  thus  at  will  the  creeping  feet 

Of  a  voluptuous  indolence,  should  meet 

Thy  hovering  Shade,  0 x  venerable  Bede  ! 

The  saint,  the  scholar,  from  a  circle  freed 

Of  toil  stupendous  in  a  hallowed  seat 

Of  learning,  where  thou  heard'st 2  the  billows  beat 

On  a  wild  coast,  rough  monitors  to  feed 

Perpetual  industry.*     Sublime  Recluse  ! 

The  recreant  soul,  that  dares  to  shun  the  debt 

Imposed  on  human  kind,  must  first  forget 

Thy  diligence,  thy  unrelaxing  use 

Of  a  long  life ;  and,  in  the  hour  of  death, 

The  last  dear  service  of  thy  passing  breath !  t 

1  1827. 

The  hovering  Shade  of        .        .        .        .  1822. 

2 1827. 

he  heard        .        .        .  1822. 

*  Bede  spent  the  most  of  his  life  in  the  seclusion  of  the  monastery  of 
Jarrow,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Tyne ;  the  wild  coast  referred  to  in  the 
Sonnet  being  the  coast  of  Northumberland. — ED. 

t  He  expired  in  the  act  of  concluding  a  translation  to  St  John's  Gospel. 
— W.  W.,  1820. 

He  expired  dictating  the  last  words  of  a  translation  of  St  John's  Gospel. 
— W.  W.,  1827. 


22  SAXON  MONASTERIES. 


XXIV. 

SAXON  MONASTEKIES,  AND  LIGHTS  AND  SHADES 
OF  THE  EELIGIOK 

BY  such  examples  moved  to  unbought  pains, 
The  people  work  like  congregated  bees ;  * 
Eager  to  build  the  quiet  Fortresses 
Where  Piety,  as  they  believe,  obtains 
From  Heaven  a  general  blessing  ;  timely  rains 
Or  needful  sunshine ;  prosperous  enterprise, 
Justice  and  peace : — bold  faith  !  yet  also  rise 
The  sacred  Structures  for  less  doubtful  gains.1 
The  Sensual  think  with  reverence  of  the  palms 
Which  the  chaste  Votaries  seek,  beyond  the  grave ; 
If  penance  be  redeemable,  thence  alms 
Flow  to  the  poor,  and  freedom  to  the  slave ; 
And  if  full  oft  the  Sanctuary  save 
Lives  black  with  guilt,  ferocity  it  calms. 

1  1832. 

And  peace,  and  equity. — Bold  faith  !  yet  rise 

The  sacred  Towers  for  universal  gains.  1822. 

And  peace,  and  equity. — Bold  faith  !  yet  rise 

The  sacred  structures  for  less  doubtful  gains.  1827. 

*  See,  in  Turner's  History,  Vol.  III.,  p.  528,  the  account  of  the  erection 
of  Ramsey  Monastery.  Penances  were  removable  by  the  performance  of 
acts  of  charity  and  benevolence.— W.  W.,  1822. 

"  Wherever  monasteries  were  founded,  marshes  were  drained,  or  woods 
cleared,  and  wastes  brought  into  cultivation  ;  the  means  of  subsistence  were 
increased  by  improved  agriculture,  and  by  improved  horticulture  new 
comforts  were  added  to  life.  The  humblest  as  well  as  the  highest  pursuits 
were  followed  in  these  great  and  most  beneficial  establishments.  While 
part  of  the  members  were  studying  the  most  inscrutable  points  of  theology, 
.  .  .  others  were  employed  in  teaching  babes  and  children  the  rudiments  of 
useful  knowledge ;  others  as  copyists,  limners,  carvers,  workers  in  wood, 
and  in  stone,  and  in  metal,  and  in  trades  and  manufactures  of  every  kind 
which  the  community  required." — (Southey'a  Book  of  the  Church,  Vol.  I., 
chap  iv.,  pp.  61-2.)— ED. 


ALFKED.  23 


XXV. 
MISSIONS  AND  TEAVELS. 

NOT  sedentary  all :  there  are  who  roam 

To  scatter  seeds  of  life  on  barbarous  shores ; 

Or  quit  with  zealous  step  their  knee-worn  floors 

To  seek  the  general  mart  of  Christendom ; 

Whence  they,  like  richly-laden  merchants,  come 

To  their  beloved  cells : — or  shall  we  say 

That,  like  the  Eed-cross  Knight,  they  urge  their  way, 

To  lead  in  memorable  triumph  home 

Truth,  their  immortal  Una  ?     Babylon, 

Learned  and  wise,  hath  perished  utterly, 

Nor  leaves  her  Speech  one  word  to  aid  the  sigh  ' 

That  would  lament  her ; — Memphis,  Tyre,  are  gone 

With  all  their  Arts, — but  classic  lore  glides  on 

By  these  Eeligious  saved  for  all  posterity. 


XXVI. 

ALFEED. 

BEHOLD  a  pupil  of  the  monkish  gown, 
The  pious  ALFRED,  King  to  Justice  dear ! 
Lord  of  the  harp  and  liberating  spear ;  * 

1  1827. 

speech  wherewith  to  clothe  a  sigh  1822. 

*  "The  memory  of  the  life  and  doings  of  the  noblest  of  English  rulers 
has  come  down  to  us  living  and  distinct  through  the  mist  of  exaggeration 
and  legend  that  gathered  round  it.  ...  He  lived  solely  for  the  good  of  his 
people.  He  is  the  first  instance  in  the  history  of  Christendom  of  the 
Christian  king,  of  a  ruler  who  put  aside  every  personal  aim  or  ambition  to 
devote  himself  to  the  welfare  of  those  whom  he  ruled.  So  long  as  he  lived 
he  strove  '  to  live  worthily  ; '  but  in  his  mouth  a  life  of  worthiness  meant  a 
life  of  justice,  temperance,  and  self-sacrifice.  Ardent  warrior  as  he  was, 


24  ALFRED. 

Mirror  of  Princes  !  *     Indigent  Eenown 

Might  range  the  starry  ether  for  a  crown 

Equal  to  his  deserts,  who,  like  the  year. 

Pours  forth  his  bounty,  like  the  day  doth  cheer, 

And  awes  like  night  with  mercy-tempered  frown. 

Ease  from  this  noble  miser  of  his  time 

No  moment  steals ;  pain  narrows  not  his  cares,  t 

Though  small  his  kingdom  as  a  spark  or  gem, 

Of  Alfred  boasts  remote  Jerusalem,  t 

And  Christian  India,  through  her  wide-spread  clime, 

In  sacred  converse  gifts  with  Alfred  shares.1  § 

1  1827. 

And  Christian  India  gifts  with  Alfred  shares 

By  sacred  converse  link'd  with  India's  dime.  1822. 

with  a  disorganized  England  hcfore  himr  he  set  aside  at  thirty-one  the 
dream  of  conquest  to  leave  behind  him  the  memory,  not  of  victories,  but  of 
'  good  works,'  of  daily  toils  by  which  he  secured  peace,  good  government, 
education  for  his  people.  .  .  .  The  spirit  of  adventure  that  made  him  in 
youth  the  first  huntsman  of  his  day  took  later  and  graver  form  in  an 
activity  that  found  time  amidst  the  cares  of  state  for  the  daily  duties  of 
religion,  for  converse  with  strangers,  for  study  and  translation,  for  learning 
poems  by  heart,  for  planning  buildings  and  instructing  craftsmen  in  gold 
work,  for  teaching  even  falconers  and  dogkeepers  their  business.  .  .  .  He 
himself  superintended  a  school  for  the  young  nobles  of  the  court." — (Green's 
History  of  the  English  People,  chap.  I.,  sec.  5.) — ED. 

*  Compare  Voltaire,  Essai  sur  les  Moers,  c.  26 ;  and  Herder's  Ideen  zur 
Philos,  der  Geschichte  der  Memchheit.  Werke  (1820),  Vol.  VI.,  p.  153.— ED. 

t  Through  the  whole  of  his  life  Alfred  was  subject  to  grievous  maladies. 
-W.  W.,  1822. 

"  Although  disease  succeeded  disease,  and  haunted  him  with  tormenting 
agony,  nothing  could  suppress  his  unwearied  and  inextinguishable  genius." 
—Sharon  Turner1  a  History  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  Vol.  I.,book  iv.,  chap.  5,  p. 
503.)— ED. 

£  "  His  mind  was  far  from  being  prisoned  within  his  own  island.  He  sent 
a  Norwegian  shipmaster  to  explore  the  White  Sea.  .  .  .  Envoys  bore  his 
presents  to  the  Christians  of  India  and  Jerusalem,  and  an  annual  mission 
carried  Peter's-pence  to  Rome." — (Green,  I.,  5.)— ED. 

§  "With  Alfred"  is  in  all  the  editions.  The  Bishop  of  St  Andrews 
suggests  that ' « of  Alfred  "  or  ' '  from  Alfred  "  would  be  a  better  reading.  — ED. 


HIS  DESCENDANTS.  25 


XXVII. 
HIS  DESCENDANTS. 

WHEN  thy  great  soul  was  freed  from  mortal  chains, 
Darling  of  England !  many  a  bitter  shower 
Fell  on  thy  tomb ;  but  emulative  power 
Flowed  in  thy  line  through  undegenerate  veins.1 
The  Race  of  Alfred  covet 2  glorious  pains  * 
When  dangers  threaten,  dangers  ever  new ! 
Black  tempests  bursting,  blacker  still  in  view ! 
But  manly  sovereignty  its  hold  retains ; 
The  root  sincere,  the  branches  bold  to  strive 
With  the  fierce  tempest,  while,3  within  the  round 
Of  their  protection,  gentle  virtues  thrive ; 
As  oft,  'mid  some  green  plot  of  open  ground, 
Wide  as  the  oak  extends  its  dewy  gloom, 
The  fostered  hyacinths  spread  their  purple  bloom,  t 

XXVIII. 

INFLUENCE  ABUSED. 
URGED  by  Ambition,  who  with  subtlest  skill 
Changes  her  means,  the  Enthusiast  as  a  dupe 

1  1837. 

Can  aught  survive  to  linger  in  the  veins 

Of  kindred  bodies — an  essential  power 

That  may  not  vanish  in  one  fatal  hour, 

And  wholly  cast  away  terrestrial  chains  ?  1822 

2  1832. 

COVets  .  .  .  1822. 

3  1827. 

to  thrive 

With  the  fierce  storm ;  meanwhile,         .        .  1S22. 


*  In  Eadward  the  elder,  his  son  ;  Eadmund  I.,  his  grandson  ;  Eadward 
(the  martyr),  grandson  of  Eadmund  I.  ;  and  Eadward  (the  confessor), 
nephew  to  the  martyr. — ED. 

t  As,  pre-eminently,  in  the  wood  by  the  road,  half-way  from  Rydal  to 
Ambleside.— ED. 


26  DANISH  CONQUESTS. 

Shall  soar,  and  as  a  hypocrite  can  stoop, 

And  turn  the  instruments  of  good  to  ill, 

Moulding  the  credulous  people  to  his  will. 

Such  DUNSTAN  : — from  its  Benedictine  coop 

Issues  the  Master  mind,*  at  whose  fell  swoop 

The  chaste  affections  tremble  to  fulfil 

Their  purposes.     Behold,  pre-signified, 

The  Might  of  spiritual  sway !  his  thoughts,  his  dreams, 

Do  in  the  supernatural  world  abide : 

So  vaunt  a  throng  of  Followers,  rilled  with  pride 

In  what  they  see  of  virtues  pushed  to  extremes,1 

And  sorceries  of  talent  misapplied. 


XXIX. 

DANISH  CONQUESTS. 

WOE  to  the  Crown  that  doth  the  Cowl  obey !  t 
Dissension,  checking  2  arms  that  would  restrain 

1  1837. 

In  shows  of  virtue  pushed  to  its  extremes,  1822. 

2  183V. 

Dissention  checks  the        ....  1822. 

*  Dunstan  was  made  Abbot  of  Glastonbury  by  Eadmund,  and  there  he 
introduced  the  Benedictine  rule,  being  the  first  Benedictine  Abbot  in 
England.  His  aim  was  a  remodelling  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  Church,  "  for 
which,"  says  Southey,  "he  was  qualified  by  his  rank,  his  connections,  his 
influence  at  court,  his  great  and  versatile  talents,  and  more  than  all,  it  must 
be  added,  by  his  daring  ambition,  which  scrupled  at  nothing  for  the  further- 
ance of  its  purpose." — (Book  of  the  Church,  I.  6).  "Dunstan  stands  first 
in  the  line  of  ecclesiastical  statesmen,  who  counted  among  them  Langfranc 
and  Wolsey,  and  ended  in  Laud."  "Raised  to  the  See  of  Canterbury, 
he  wielded  for  sixteen  years,  as  the  minister  of  Eadgar,  the  secular  and 
ecclesiastical  powers  of  the  realm." — (Green,  I.  6.)  In  the  effort  to  retain 
the  ascendancy  he  had  won,  he  lent  himself,  however,  to  superstition  and 
to  fraud,  to  craft  and  mean  device.  He  was  a  type  of  the  ecclesiastical 
sorcerer.  — ED. 

t  The  violent  measures  carried  on  under  the  influence  of  Dunstan,  for 
strengthening  the  Benedictine  Order,  were  a  leading  cause  of  the  second 
series  of  Danish  invasions. — See  Turner. — W.  W.,  1822. 


CANUTE.  27 

The  incessant  Rovers  of  the  northern  main,* 
Helps  to  restore  and  spread  a  Pagan  sway ; l 
But  Gospel-truth  is  potent  to  allay 
Fierceness  and  rage ;  and  soon  the  cruel  Dane 
Feels,  through  the  influence  of  her  gentle  reign, 
His  native  superstitions  melt  away. 
Thus,  often,  when  thick  gloom  the  east  o'ershrouds, 
The  full-orbed  Moon,  slow-climbing,  doth  appear 
Silently  to  consume  the  heavy  clouds ; 
How  no  one  can  resolve  ;  but  every  eye 
Around  her  sees,  while  air  is  hushed,  a  clear 
And  widening  circuit  of  ethereal  sky. 


xxx. 
CANUTE. 

A  PLEASANT  music  floats  along  the  Mere, 

From  Monks  in  Ely  chanting  service  high, 

While-as  Canute  the  King  is  rowing  by : 

"  My  Oarsmen,"  quoth  the  mighty  King,  "  draw  near, 

"  That  we  the  sweet  song  of  the  Monks  may  hear  ! "  t 

He  listens  (all  past  conquests  and  all  schemes 

Of  future  vanishing  like  empty  dreams) 

1  1337. 

And  widely  spreads  once  more  a  Pagan  sway  ;         1822. 

*  E.g.,  Anlaef,  Haco,  Svein.— (See  Turner's  History,  II.,  3,  8,  9.)— ED. 

t  A  monk  of  Ely,  who  wrote  a  History  of  the  Church  (circa  1166),  records 
a  fragment  of  song,  said  to  have  been  composed  by  Canute  when  on  his  way 
to  a  Church  festival.  He  told  his  rowers  to  proceed  slowly,  and  near  the 
shore,  that  he  might  hear  the  chanting  of  the  Psalter  by  the  monks,  and 
he  then  composed  a  song  himself. 

Merie  sangen  the  Muneches  binnen  Ely, 
Tha  Cnut  ching  reu  therby  : 
Roweth  cnites  ner  the  land 
And  here  ye  thes  Muneches  sang.— ED. 


28  THE  NORMAN  CONQUEST. 

Heart-touched,  and  haply  not  without  a  tear. 
The  Koyal  Minstrel,  ere  the  choir  is  still,1 
While  his  free  Barge  skims  the  smooth  flood  along, 
Gives  to  that  rapture  an  accordant  Ehyme.2  * 
0  suffering  Earth  !  be  thankful ;  sternest  clime 
And  rudest  age  are  subject  to  the  thrill 
Of  heaven-descended  Piety  and  Song. 


XXXI. 

THE  NOKMAN  CONQUEST. 

THE  woman-hearted  Confessor  prepares  t 

The  evanescence  of  the  Saxon  line. 

Hark  !  'tis  the  tolling  Curfew  ! — the  stars  shine,3 

But  of  the  lights  that  cherish  household  cares 

And  festive  gladness,  burns  not  one  that  dares 

To  twinkle  after  that  dull  stroke  of  thine, 

Emblem  and  instrument,  from  Thames  to  Tyne, 

Of  force  that  daunts,  and  cunning  that  ensnares  ! 

Yet  as  the  terrors  of  the  lordly  bell, 

That  quench,  from  hut  to  palace,  lamps  and  fires,  { 

1  1827. 

was  still,  1822. 

2  1827. 

a  memorial  Rhyme.  1822. 

3  1827. 

Hark  !  'tis  the  Curfew's  knell !  the  stars  may 

shine ;  1822. 

*  Which  is  still  extant.— W.  W.,  1822.     See  last  note.— ED. 

t  Edward  the  Confessor  (1042-1066).— "There  was  something  shadow- 
like  in  the  thin  form,  the  delicate  complexion,  the  transparent  womanly 
hands,  that  contrasted  with  the  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair  of  his  race  ;  and 
it  is  almost  as  a  shadow  that  he  glides  over  the  political  stage.  The  work 
of  government  was  done  by  sterner  hands."— (Green.)— ED. 

t  The  introduction  of  the  curfew-bell  (couvre-feu,  cover  fire)  into  England 
is  ascribed  to  the  Conqueror,  but  the  custom  was  common  in  Europe  long 
before  his  time. — ED. 


COLDLY  WE  SPAKE.  29 


Touch  not  the  tapers  of  the  sacred  quires ; 
Even  so  a  thaldrom,  studious  to  expel 
Old  laws,  and  ancient  customs  to  derange, 
To  Creed  or  Eitual  brings  no  fatal  change.1 


XXXII. 
Pub.  1836. 

COLDLY  we  spake.     The  Saxons,  overpowered 

By  wrong  triumphant  through  its  own  excess, 

From  fields  laid  waste,  from  house  and  home  devoured 

By  flames,  look  up  to  heaven  and  crave  redress 

From  God's  eternal  justice.     Pitiless 

Though  men  be,  there  are  angels  that  can  feel 

For  wounds  that  death  alone  has  power  to  heal, 

For  penitent  guilt,  and  innocent  distress. 

And  has  a  Champion  risen  in  arms  to  try 

His  Country's  virtue,  fought,  and  breathes  no  more ; 

Him  in  their  hearts  the  people  canonize ; 

And  far  above  the  mine's  most  precious  ore 

The  least  small  pittance  of  bare  mould  they  prize 

Scooped  from  the  sacred  earth  where  his  dear  relics  lie. 


XXXIII. 

THE  COUNCIL  OF  CLERMONT. 

"  AND  shall,"  the  Pontiff  asks,  "  profaneness  flow 
"From  Nazareth — source  of  Christian  piety, 
"  From  Bethlehem,  from  the  Mounts  of  Agony 
"  And  glorified  Ascension  ?     Warriors,  go, 

1  1837. 

Brings  to  Religion  no  injurious  change.  1822. 


30  CRUSADES. 

"  With  prayers  and  blessings  we  your  path  will  sow  ; 

"  Like  Moses  hold  our  hands  erect,  till  ye 

"  Have  chased  far  off  by  righteous  victory 

"  These  sons  of  Amalek,  or  laid  them  low  ! " — 

"  GOD  WILLETH  IT,"  the  whole  assembly  cry ; 

Shout  which  the  enraptured  multitude  astounds  ! l 

The  Council-roof  and  Clermont's  towers  reply ; — 

"  God  willeth  it,"  from  hill  to  hill  rebounds, 

And,  in  awe-stricken 2  Countries  far  and  nigh, 

Through  '  Nature's  hollow  arch '  that  voice  resounds.3  * 


xxxiv. 
CRUSADES. 

THE  turbaned  Eace  are  poured  in  thickening  swarms 

Along  the  west ;  though  driven  from  Aquitaine, 

The  Crescent  glitters  on  the  towers  of  Spain ; 

And  soft  Italia  feels  renewed  alarms ; 

The  scimitar,  that  yields  not  to  the  charms 

Of  ease,  the  narrow  Bosphorus  will  disdain; 

Nor  long  (that  crossed)  would  Grecian  hills  detain 

1  1827. 

astounded.  1522. 

2  1827. 

rebounded ; 

Sacred  resolve,  in 1822. 

3  1837. 

resounded.          1S22. 

That  night  the  voice  resounds.         1827. 

*  The  decision  of  this  Council  was  believed  to  be  instantly  known  in 
remote  parts  of  Europe. — W.  W. 

There  were  several  Councils  of  Claremont,  the  chief  of  them  being  that 
of  1095,  at  which  the  Crusade  was  definitely  planned.  Pope  Urban  II. 
addressed  the  Council  in  such  a  way  that  at  the  close  the  whole  multitude 
exclaimed  simultaneously  Deus  Vult ;  and  this  phrase  became  the  war-cry 
of  the  Crusade.— ED 


RICHARD  I.  31 

Their  tents,  and  check  the  current  of  their  arms. 
Then  blame  not  those  who,  by  the  mightiest  lever 
Known  to  the  moral  world,  Imagination, 
Upheave,  so  seems  it,  from  her  natural  station 
All  Christendom : — they  sweep  along  (was  never 
So  huge  a  host !)  * — to  tear  from  the  Unbeliever 
The  precious  Tomb,  their  haven  of  salvation. 


xxxv. 
EICHAED  I. 

REDOUBTED  King,  of  courage  leonine, 

I  mark  thee,  Richard  !  urgent  to  equip 

Thy  warlike  person  with  the  staff  and  scrip ; 

I  watch  thee  sailing  o'er  the  midland  brine ; 

In  conquered  Cyprus  see  thy  Bride  decline 

Her  blushing  cheek,  love-vows 1  upon  her  lip, 

And  see  love-emblems  streaming  from  thy  ship, 

As  thence  she  holds  her  way  to  Palestine.! 

My  Song,  a  fearless  homager,  would  attend 

Thy  thundering  battle-axe  as  it  cleaves  the  press 

Of  war,  but  duty  summons  her  away 

To  tell — how,  finding  in  the  rash  distress 

Of  those  Enthusiasts  a  subservient  friend, 

To 2  giddier  heights  hath  clomb  the  Papal  sway. 

1  1827. 

,  Love's  VOW  .  .  1822. 

2  1837. 

Of  those  enthusiast  powers  a  constant  Friend, 
Through 1822. 

*  Ten  successive  armies,  amounting  to  nearly  950,000  men,  took  part  in 
the  first  Crusade.  "  The  most  distant  islands  and  savage  countries,"  says 
William  of  Malmesbury,  "  were  inspired  with  this  ardent  passion."— ED. 

t  Richard  I.  (Coeur  de  Lion),  one  of  the  two  leaders  in  the  third  Crusade, 
after  conquering  Cyprus — on  his  way  to  Palestine — while  in  that  island 
married  Berengaria,  daughter  of  Sanchez,  King  of  Navarre.— ED. 


AN  INTERDICT. 
XXXVI. 

AN  INTEKDICT.* 

EEALMS  quake  by  turns :  proud  Arbitress  of  grace, 

The  Church,  by  mandate  shadowing  forth  the  power 

She  arrogates  o'er  heaven's  eternal  door, 

Closes  the  gates  of  every  sacred  place. 

Straight  from  the  sun  and  tainted  air's  embrace 

All  sacred  things  are  covered :  cheerful  morn 

Grows  sad  as  night — no  seemly  garb  is  worn, 

Nor  is  a  face  allowed  to  meet  a  face 

With  natural  smiles 1  of  greeting.     Bells  are  dumb  ; 

Ditches  are  graves — funereal  rites  denied ; 

And  in  the  church-yard  he  must  take  his  bride 

Who  dares  be  wedded !     Fancies  thickly  come 

Into  the  pensive  heart  ill  fortified, 

And  comfortless  despairs  the  soul  benumb. 


1  1845. 

smile 1822. 

*  At  the  command  of  Pope  Innocent  III. ,  the  Bishops  of  London,  Ely, 
and  Worcester  were  charged  to  lay  England  under  an  interdict.  They  did 
so,  in  defiance  of  King  John,  and  left  England.  Southey's  description  of 
the  result  may  be  compared  with  this  sonnet.  "All  the  rites  of  a  Church 
whose  policy  it  was  to  blend  its  institutions  with  the  whole  business  of 
private  life  were  suddenly  suspended  :  no  bell  heard,  no  taper  lighted,  no 
service  performed,  no  church  open ;  only  baptism  was  permitted,  and  con- 
fession and  sacrament  for  the  dying.  The  dead  were  either  interred  in 
unhallowed  ground,  without  the  presence  of  a  priest,  or  any  religious  cere- 
mony, ...  or  they  were  kept  unburied.  .  .  .  Some  little  mitigation 
was  allowed,  lest  human  nature  should  have  rebelled  against  so  intolerable 
a  tyranny.  The  people,  therefore,  were  called  to  prayers  and  sermon  on 
the  Sunday,  in  the  churchyards,  and  marriages  were  performed  at  the 
church  door."— (Bool:  of  the  Church,  Vol.  L,  ch.  9,  pp.  261-2.}— ED. 


SCENE  IN  VENICE.  33 

XXXVII. 
PAPAL  ABUSES. 

As  with  the  Stream  our  voyage  we  pursue, 
The  gross  materials  of  this  world  present 
A  marvellous  study  of  wild  accident ;  * 
Uncouth  proximities  of  old  and  new ; 
And  bold  transfigurations,  more  untrue 
(As  might  be  deemed)  to  disciplined  intent 
Than  aught  the  sky's  fantastic  element, 
When  most  fantastic,  offers  to  the  view. 
Saw  we  not  Henry  scourged  at  Becket's  shrine  ?  t 
Lo  !  John  self-stripped  of  his  insignia  : — crown, 
Sceptre  and  mantle,  sword  and  ring,  laid  down 
At  a  proud  Legate's  feet !  J  The  spears  that  line 
Baronial  halls,  the  opprobrious  insult  feel ; 
And  angry  Ocean  roars  a  vain  appeal. 

XXXVIIL 
SCENE  IN  VENICE. 

BLACK  Demons  hovering  o'er  his  mitred  head, 
To  Caesar's  Successor  the  Pontiff  spake ;  § 

*  Compare  Aubrey  de  Vere's  Thomas  a  Bucket. — ED. 

t  After  Becket's  murder  and  canonization  Henry  II.,  from  political 
motives,  did  penance  publicly  at  his  shrine.  Clad  in  a  coarse  garment,  he 
walked  three  miles  barefoot  to  Canterbury,  and  at  the  shrine  submitted  to 
the  discipline  of  the  Church.  Four  bishops,  abbots,  and  eighty  clergy  were 
present,  each  with  a  knotted  cord,  and  inflicted  380  lashes.  Bleeding  he 
threw  sackcloth  over  his  shoulders,  and  continued  till  midnight  kneeling  at 
prayer,  then  visited  all  the  altars,  and  returned  fainting  to  Becket's  shrine, 
where  he  remained  till  morning. — ED. 

t  On  the  festival  of  the  Ascension,  John  "laid  his  erown  at  Pandulph's 
feet,  and  signed  an  instrument  by  which,  for  the  remission  of  his  sins,  and 
those  of  his  family,  he  surrendered  the  kingdoms  of  England  and  Ireland  to 
the  Pope,  to  hold  them  thenceforth  under  him,  and  the  Roman  see." 
Pandulph  "kept  the  crown  five  days  before  he  restored  it  to  John." 
— Southey  (Vol.  I.,  p.  218).— ED. 

§  The  reference  is  to  the  legend  of  Pope  Alexander  III.  and  Frederick 
Barbarossa.  See  the  Fenwick  note  prefixed  to  these  sonnets. — ED. 

VII.  C 


34  PAPAL  DOMINION. 

"  Ere  I  absolve  thee,  stoop  !  that  on  thy  neck 

Levelled  with  earth  this  foot  of  mine  may  tread. 

Then  he,  who  to  the  altar  had  been  led, 

He,  whose  strong  arm  the  Orient  could  not  check, 

He,  who  had  held  the  Soldan  *  at  his  beck, 

Stooped,  of  all  glory  disinherited, 

And  even  the  common  dignity  of  man ! — 

Amazement  strikes  the  crowd :  while  many  turn 

Their  eyes  away  in  sorrow,  others  burn 

With  scorn,  invoking  a  vindictive  ban 

From  outraged  Nature ;  but  the  sense  of  most 

In  abject  sympathy  with  power  is  lost. 


xxxix. 
PAPAL  DOMINION. 

UNLESS  to  Peter's  Chair  the  viewless  wind 

Must  come  and  ask  permission  when  to  blow, 

What  further  empire  would  it  have  ?  for  now 

A  ghostly  Domination,  unconfined 

As  that  by  dreaming  Bards  to  Love  assigned, 

Sits  there  in  sober  truth — to  raise  the  low, 

Perplex  the  wise,  the  strong  to  overthrow ; 

Through  earth  and  heaven  to  bind  and  to  unbind  ! — 

Eesist — the  thunder  quails  thee  ! — crouch — rebuff 

Shall  be  thy  recompence  !  from  land  to  land 

The  ancient  thrones  of  Christendom  are  stuff 

For  occupation  of  a  magic  wand, 

And  'tis  the  Pope  that  wields  it : — whether  rough 

Or  smooth  his  front,  our  world  is  in  his  hand !  t 

*  Soldan,  or  Sultan,  "Soldanus  quasi  solus  dominus  "—En. 

t  According  to  the  canons  of  the  Church,  the  Pope  was  above  all  kings, 

He  was  king  of  kings  and  lord  of  lords,  although  he  subscribed  himself 


FROM  FALSE  ASSUMPTION  ROSE,  AND  FONDLY  HAILED.    35 


PAET    II. 

TO  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  TROUBLES  IN  THE  REIGN  OF 
CHARLES  I. 


Pub.  1845. 

How  soon — alas  !  did  Man,  created  pure — 
By  Angels  guarded,  deviate  from  the  line 
Prescribed  to  duty  : — woeful  forfeiture 
He  made  by  wilful  breach  of  law  divine. 
With  like  perverseness  did  the  Church  abjure 
Obedience  to  her  Lord,  and  haste  to  twine, 
'Mid  Heaven-born  flowers  that  shall  for  aye  endure, 
Weeds  on  whose  front  the  world  had  fixed  her  sign. 
0  Man, — if  with  thy  trials  thus  it  fares, 
If  good  can  smooth  the  way  to  evil  choice, 
From  all  rash  censure  be  the  mind  kept  free ; 
He  only  judges  right  who  weighs,  compares, 
And,  in  the  sternest  sentence  which  his  voice 
Pronounces,  ne'er  abandons  Charity. 


II. 
Pub.  1845. 

FROM  false  assumption  rose,  and  fondly  hailed 
By  superstition,  spread  the  Papal  power ; 
Yet  do  not  deem  the  Autocracy  prevailed 
Thus  only,  even  in  error's  darkest  hour. 

the  servant  of  servants."  He  might  dethrone  kings,  and  tax  nations,  or 
destroy  empires,  as  he  pleased.  All  power  had  been  committed  to  him, 
and  any  secular  law  that  was  opposed  to  a  papal  decree  was,  ipso  facto, 
null  and  void. — ED. 


86  CISTERTIAN  MONASTERY. 

She  daunts,  forth-thundering  from  her  spiritual  tower, 
Brute  rapine,  or  with  gentle  lure  she  tames. 
Justice  and  Peace  through  Her  uphold  their  claims ; 
And  Chastity  finds  many  a  sheltering  bower. 
Eealm  there  is  none  that  if  controlled  or  swayed 
By  her  commands  partakes  not,  in  degree, 
Of  good,  o'er  manners  arts  and  arms,  diffused : 
Yes,  to  thy  domination,  Eoman  See, 
Tho'  miserably,  oft  monstrously,  abused 
By  blind  ambition,  be  this  tribute  paid. 


in. 
CISTEETIAN  MONASTEEY* 

"  HERE  Man  more  purely  lives,  less  oft  doth  fall, 
More  promptly  rises,  walks  with  stricter  heed,1 
More  safely  rests,  dies  happier,  is  freed 
Earlier  from  cleansing  fires,  and  gains  withal 
A  brighter  crown"  t — On  yon  Cistertian  wall 
That  confident  assurance  may  be  read ; 
And,  to  like  shelter,  from  the  world  have  fled 
Increasing  multitudes.      The  potent  call 
Doubtless  shall  cheat  full  oft  the  heart's  desires ; 2 


1837. 

with  nicer  heed,  1822. 


....         desire ;  1822. 

*  The  Cistercian  order  was  named  after  the  monastery  of  Cit^aux  or 
Cistercium,  near  Dijon,  founded  in  1098  by  the  Benedictine  abbot,  Robert 
of  Moleme. — ED. 

t  "Bonum  est  nos  hie  esse,  quia  homo  vivit  purius,  cadit  rarius,  surgit 
velocius,  incedit  cautius,  quiescit  securius,  moritur  felicius,  purgatur  citius, 
prsemiatur  copiosius." — Bernard.  "  This  sentence,"  says  Dr  Whitaker,  "  is 
usually  inscribed  in  some  conspicuous  part  of  the  Cistertian  houses." — 
W.  W.,  1822. 


DEPLORABLE  HIS  LOT  WHO  TILLS  THE  GROUND.      37 

Yet,  while  the  rugged  Age  on  pliant  knee 
Vows  to  rapt  Fancy  humble  fealty, 
A  gentler  life  spreads  round  the  holy  spires ; 
Where'er  they  rise,  the  Sylvan  waste  retires, 
And  aery  harvests  crown  the  fertile  lea. 


IV.* 
Pub.  1835. 

DEPLORABLE  his  lot  who  tills  the  ground, 
His  whole  life  long  tills  it,  with  heartless  toil 
Of  villain-service,  passing  with  the  soil 
To  each  new  Master,  like  a  steer  or  hound, 
Or  like  a  rooted  tree,  or  stone  earth-bound ; 
But  mark  how  gladly,  through  their  own  domains, 
The  Monks  relax  or  break  these  iron  chains ; 
While  Mercy,  uttering,  through  their  voice,  a  sound 
Echoed  in  Heaven,  cries  out,  "Ye  Chiefs,  abate 
These  legalized  oppressions  !  Man — whose  name 
And  nature  God  disdained  not;  Man — whose  soul 
Christ  died  for — cannot  forfeit  his  high  claim 
To  live  and  move  exempt  from  all  control 
Which  fellow-feeling  doth  not  mitigate  ! " 


*  The  following  note,  referring  to  Sonnets  4,  12,  and  13,  appears  in  the 
volume  of  1835 — entitled  Yarrow  Revisited,  and  other  Poems— immediately 
after  the  poem  St  Bees — 

[The  three  following  Sonnets  are  an  intended  addition  to  the  "  Ecclesias- 
tical Sketches,"  the  first  to  stand  second;  and  the  two  that  succeed, 
seventh  and  eighth,  in  the  second  part  of  the  series.  They  are  placed  here 
as  having  some  connection  with  the  foregoing  poem.]— ED. 


38  OTHER  BENEFITS. 

V. 

MONKS  AND  SCHOOLMEN. 

EECOED  we  too,  with  just  and  faithful  pen, 
That  many  hooded  Cenobites  *  there  are, 
Who  in  their  private  cells  have  yet  a  care 
Of  public  quiet ;  unambitious  Men 
Councillors  for  the  world,  of  piercing  ken ; 
Whose  fervent  exhortations  from  afar 
Move  Princes  to  their  duty,  peace  or  war ;  t 
And  oft-times  in  the  most  forbidding  den 
Of  solitude,  with  love  of  science  strong, 
How  patiently  the  yoke  of  thought  they  bear 
How  subtly  glide  its  finest  threads  along  ! 
Spirits  that  crowd  the  intellectual  sphere  t 
With  mazy  boundaries,  as  the  astronomer 
With  orb  and  cycle  girds  the  starry  throng. 


VI. 
OTHER  BENEFITS. 

AND,  not  in  vain  embodied  to  the  sight, 
Eeligion  finds  even  in  the  stern  retreat 


*  Cenobites  (KOCJ^IOI),  monks  who  live  in  common,  as  distinguished 
from  hermits  or  anchorites,  who  live  alone. — ED. 

t  "Counts,  kings,  bishops,"  says  F.  D.  Maurice,  "in  the  fulness  of 
their  wealth  and  barbaric  splendour,  may  be  bowing  before  a  monk,  who 
writes  them  letters  from  a  cell  in  which  he  is  living  upon  vegetables  and 
water." — Moral  and  Metaphysical  Philosophy,  Vol.  I.,  Mediaeval  Philo- 
sophy, chap,  iv.,  p.  534.— ED. 

£  ti.g.,  Albertus  Magnus  (1193-1280);  Thomas  Aquinas  (1224-1274); 
Duns  Scotus  (1275-1308) ;  Roger  Bacon  (1214-1294).— ED. 


OTHER  BENEFITS.  39 

Of  feudal  sway  her  own  appropriate  seat ;  * 
From  the  collegiate  pomps  on  Windsor's  height 
Down  to  the  humbler l  altar,  which  the  Knight 
And  his  retainers  of  the  embattled  hall 
Seek  in  domestic  oratory  small, 
For  prayer  in  stillness,  or  the  chanted  rite ; 
Then  chiefly  dear,  when  foes  are  planted  round, 
Who  teach  the  intrepid  guardians  of  the  place — 
Hourly  exposed  to  death,  with  famine  worn, 
And  suffering  under  many  a  perilous  wound — 2 
How  sad  would  be  their  durance,  if  forlorn 
Of  offices  dispensing  heavenly  grace ! 


VII. 

CONTINUED. 

AND  what  melodious  sounds  at  times  prevail ! 
And,  ever  and  anon,  how  bright  a  gleam 
Pours  on  the  surface  of  the  turbid  Stream ! 
What  heartfelt  fragrance  mingles  with  the  gale 
That  swells  the  bosom  of  our  passing  sail ! 
For  where,  but  on  this  River's  margin,  blow 
Those  flowers  of  chivalry,  to  bind  the  brow 
Of  hardihood  with  wreaths  that  shall  not  fail  ? — 
Fair  Court  of  Edward  !  wonder  of  the  world  !  t 

1  1837. 

humble        .         .         .  1822. 

2  1827. 

doubtful  wound,  1822. 

*  St  George's  Chapel,  Windsor,  begun  by  Henry  III.  and  finished  by 
Edward  III.,  rebuilt  by  Henry  VII. ,  and  enlarged  by  Cardinal  Wolsey.— 
ED. 

t  Edward  the  Third  (1336-1360).  See  The  Wonderful  Deeds  of  Edward 
the  Third,  by  Robert  of  Avesbury  ;  and  Longman's  History  of  Edward  the 
Third.— ED. 


40  CRUSADERS. 

I  see  a  matchless  blazonry  unfurled 

Of  wisdom,  magnanimity,  and  love ; 

And  meekness  tempering  honourable  pride  ; 

The  lamb  is  crouching  by  the  lion's  side, 

And  near  the  flame-eyed  eagle  sits  the  dove. 


VIII. 

CEUSADEKS. 

FUEL  we  the  sails,  and  pass  with  tardy  oars 

Through  these  bright  regions,  casting  many  a  glance 

Upon  the  dream-like  issues — the  romance 1 

Of  many-coloured  life  that 2  Fortune  pours 

Round  the  Crusaders,  till  on  distant  shores 

Their  labours  end ;  or  they  return  to  lie, 

The  vow  performed,  in  cross-legged  effigy, 

Devoutly  stretched  upon  their  chancel  floors. 

Am  I  deceived  ?     Or  is  their  requiem  chanted 

By  voices  never  mute  when  Heaven  unties 

Her  inmost,  softest,  tenderest  harmonies ; 

Requiem  which  Earth  takes  up  undaunted, 

When  she  would  tell  how  Brave,  and  Good,  and  Wise,3 

For  their  high  guerdon  not  in  vain  have  panted ! 


1845. 


Nor  can  Imagination  quit  the  shores 

Of  these  bright  scenes  without  a  farewell  glance 

Given  to  those  dream-like  issues — that  Eomance      1322. 


1837. 


1837. 


Given  to  the  dream-like  Issues — that  Romance        1837. 


which        .        .  1822. 

Good  and  Brave,  and  Wise,  1822. 


WHERE  LONG  AND  DEEPLY  HATH  BEEN  JblXED.       41 


IX. 
Comp.  1842.    Pub.  1845. 

As  faith  thus  sanctified  the  warrior's  crest 

While  from  the  Papal  Unity  there  came, 

What  feebler  means  had  fail'd  to  give,  one  aim 

Diffused  thro'  all  the  regions  of  the  West ; 

So  does  her  Unity  its  power  attest 

By  works  of  Art,  that  shed  on  the  outward  frame 

Of  worship  glory  and  grace,  which  who  shall  blame 

That  ever  looked  to  heaven  for  final  rest  ? 

Hail  countless  Temples  !  that  so  well  befit 

Your  ministry ;  that,  as  ye  rise  and  take 

Form  spirit  and  character  from  holy  writ, 

Give  to  devotion,  wheresoe'er  awake, 

Pinions  of  high  and  higher  sweep,  and  make 

The  unconverted  soul  with  awe  submit.* 


Comp.  1842.     Pub.  1845. 

WHERE  long  and  deeply  hath  been  fixed  the  root 
In  the  blest  soil  of  gospel  truth,  the  Tree, 
(Blighted  or  scathed  tho'  many  branches  be, 
Put  forth  to  wither  many  a  hopeful  shoot) 
Can  never  cease  to  bear  celestial  fruit. 


*  In  a  letter  to  Professor  Henry  Reed,  Philadelphia,  Sept.  4,  1842,  Words- 
worth  writes:  "To  the  second  part  of  the  Series,"  the  Ecclesiastical  Sonnets, 
"  I  have  also  added  two,  in  order  to  do  more  justice  to  the  Papal  Church 
for  the  services  which  she  did  actually  render  to  Christianity  and  humanity 
in  the  Middle  Ages."— ED. 


4  2  TRANSUBSTANTI ATION. 

Witness  the  Church  that  oft-times,  with  effect 

Dear  to  the  saints,  strives  earnestly  to  eject 

Her  bane,  her  vital  energies  recruit. 

Lamenting,  do  not  hopelessly  repine 

When  such  good  work  is  doomed  to  be  undone, 

The  conquests  lost  that  were  so  hardly  won : — 

All  promises  vouchsafed  by  Heaven  will  shine 

In  light  confirmed  while  years  their  course  shall  run. 

Confirmed  alike  in  progress  and  decline. 


XI. 

TRANSUBSTANTIATIOK 

ENOUGH  !  for  see,  with  dim  association 

The  tapers  burn  ;  the  odorous  incense  feeds 

A  greedy  flame  ;  the  pompous  mass  proceeds  ; 

The  Priest  bestows  the  appointed  consecration ; 

And,  while  the  HOST  is  raised,  its  elevation 

An  awe  and  supernatural  horror  breeds ; 

And  all  the  people  bow  their  heads,  like  reeds 

To  a  soft  breeze,  in  lowly  adoration. 

This  Valdo  brooks1  not.*     On  the  banks  of  Rhone 

He  taught,  till  persecution  chased  him  thence, 

To  adore  the  Invisible,  and  Him  alone. 

1  1837. 

brook'd        ....  1822. 

*  Peter  Waldo  (or  Valdo),  a  rich  merchant  of  Lyons  (1160  or  1170), 
becoming  religious,  dedicated  himself  to  poverty  and  almsgiving.  Disciples 
gathered  round  him ;  and  they  were  called  the  poor  men  of  Lyons —  a 
modest,  frugal,  and  industrious  order.  They  were  reformers  before  the 
Reformation.  Peter  Waldo  exposed  the  corruption  of  the  clergy,  had  the 
four  gospels  translated  for  the  people,  and  maintained  the  rights  of  the 
laity  to  read  them  to  the  masses.  He  was  condemned  by  the  Lateran 
Council  in  1179.— ED. 


PRAISED  BE  THE  RIVERS.  43 

Nor  are1  his  Followers  loth  to  seek  defence, 
Mid  woods  and  wilds,  on  Nature's  craggy  throne, 
From  rites  that  trample  upon  soul  and  sense. 


XII. 

THE  VAUDOIS. 

Pub.  1835. 

BUT  whence  came  they  who  for  the  Saviour  Lord 

Have  long  borne  witness  as  the  Scriptures  teach  ? — 

Ages  ere  Valdo  raised  his  voice  to  preach 

In  Gallic  ears  the  unadulterate  Word, 

Their  fugitive  Progenitors  explored 

Subalpine  vales,  in  quest  of  safe  retreats 

Where  that  pure  Church  survives,  though  summer  heats 

Open  a  passage  to  the  Romish  sword, 

Far  as  it  dares  to  follow.      Herbs  self-sown, 

And  fruitage  gathered  from  the  chesnut  wood, 

Nourish  the  sufferers  then ;  and  mists,  that  brood 

O'er  chasms  with  new-fallen  obstacles  bestrewn, 

Protect  them  ;  and  the  eternal  snow  that  daunts 

Aliens,  is  God's  good  winter  for  their  haunts. 


XIII. 
Pub.  1835. 

PKAISED  be  the  Eivers,  from  their  mountain  springs 
Shouting  to  Freedom,  "Plant  thy  banners  here !" 
To  harassed  Piety,  "  Dismiss  thy  fear, 
"  And  in  our  caverns  smooth  thy  ruffled  wings !" 

1  1837. 

Nor  were  .  1822. 


44  WALDENSES. 

Nor  be  unthanked  their  final  lingerings — 
Silent,  but  not  to  high-souled  Passion's  ear — 
'Mid  reedy  fens  wide-spread  and  marshes  drear, 
Their  own  creation.      Such  glad  welcomings 
As  Po  was  heard  to  give  where  Venice  rose, 
Hailed  from  aloft  those  Heirs  of  truth  divine1 
Who  near  his  fountains  sought  obscure  repose, 
Yet  came2  prepared  as  glorious  lights  to  shine, 
Should  that  be  needed  for  their  sacred  Charge  ; 
Blest  Prisoners  They,  whose  spirits  were  at  large  ! 3 


XIV. 

WALDENSES.* 

THOSE  had  given4  earliest  notice,  as  the  lark 
Springs  from  the  ground  the  morn  to  gratulate ; 


1837. 


their  tardiest  lingerings 

'Mid  reedy  fens  wide-spread  and  marshes  drear, 
Their  own  creation,  till  their  long  career 
End  in  the  sea  engulphed.     Such  welcomings 
As  caine  from  mighty  Po  when  Venice  rose, 
Greeted  those  simple  Heirs  of  truth  divine 


1837. 


1845. 


1845. 


Yet  were 


are  at  large  ! 


These  who  gave 
These  had  given 


1835. 


1835. 


1835. 


1822. 
1843. 


*  The  followers  of  Peter  Waldo  became  ultimately  a  separate  community, 
and  multiplied  in  the  valleys  of  Dauphine  and  Piedmont.  They  suffered 
persecutions  in  1332,  1400,  and  1478,  but  these  persecutions  only  drove  them 
into  fresh  districts  in  Europe.  Francis  I.  of  France  ordered  them  to  be 
extirpated  from  Piedmont  in  1541,  and  many  were  massacred.  In  1560  the 
Duke  of  Savoy  renewed  the  persecution  at  the  instance  of  the  Papal 
See.  Charles  Emmanuel  II.,  in  1655,  continued  it.— ED. 


ARCHBISHOP  CHICHELY  TO  HENRY  V.       45 

Or1  rather  rose  the  day  to  antedate, 

By  striking  out  a  solitary  spark, 

When  all  the  world  with  midnight  gloom  was  dark. — 

Then  followed  the  Waldensian  bands,  whom  Hate2 

In  vain  endeavours3  to  exterminate, 

Whom4  Obloquy  pursues  with  hideous  bark  :* 

But  they  desist  not ; — and  the  sacred  fire,5 

Rekindled  thus,  from  dens  and  savage  woods 

Moves,  handed  on  with  never-ceasing  care, 

Through  courts,  through  camps,  o'er  limitary  floods ; 

Nor  lacks  this  sea-girt  Isle  a  timely  share 

Of  the  new  Flame,  not  suffered  to  expire. 


xv. 
AECHBISHOP  CHICHELY  TO  HENEY  V. 

"  WHAT  beast  in  wilderness  or  cultured  field 
"  The  lively  beauty  of  the  leopard  shows  ? 

1  ]843. 

Who 1822. 

2  1845. 

These  Harbingers  of  good,  whom  bitter  hate  1822. 

At  length  come  those  Waldensian  bands,  whom  Hate  1843. 

3  1843. 

endeavoured  1822. 


1843. 


Fell 1822. 

6  1827. 

Meanwhile  the  unextinguishable  fire,  1822. 

*  The  list  of  foul  names  bestowed  upon  those  poor  creatures  is  long  and 
curious  ; — and,  as  is,  alas,  too  natural,  most  of  the  opprobrious  appellations 
are  drawn  from  circumstances  into  which  they  were  forced  by  their 
persecutors,  who  even  consolidated  their  miseries  into  one  reproachful  term, 
calling  them  Patarenians,  or  Paturins,  from  pati,  to  suffer. 

Dwellers  with  wolves,  she  names  them,  for  the  pine 

And  green  oak  are  their  covert ;  as  the  gloom 

Of  night  oft  foils  their  enemy's  design, 

She  calls  them  Riders  on  the  flying  broom  ; 

Sorcerers,  whose  frame  and  aspect  have  become 

One  and  the  same  through  practices  malign.— W.  W.  1822. 


46  WARS  OF  YORK  AND  LANCASTER. 

"  What  flower  in  meadow-ground  or  garden  grows 

"  That  to  the  towering  lily  doth  not  yield  ? 

"  Let  both  meet  only  on  thy  royal  shield  ! 

"  Go  forth,  great  King  !  claim  what  thy  birth  bestows  ; 

"  Conquer  the  Gallic  lily  which  thy  foes 

"  Dare  to  usurp ; — thou  hast  a  sword  to  wield, 

"  And  Heaven  will  crown  the  right." — The  mitred  Sire 

Thus  spake — and  lo !  a  Fleet,  for  Gaul  addrest, 

Ploughs  her  bold  course  across  the  wondering  seas  ;  * 

For,  sooth  to  say,  ambition,  in  the  breast 

Of  youthful  heroes,  is  no  sullen  fire, 

But  one  that  leaps  to  meet  the  fanning  breeze. 


XVI. 

WAKS  OF  YOEK  AND  LANCASTER 

THUS  is  the  storm  abated  by  the  craft 

Of  a  shrewd  Counsellor,  eager  to  protect 

The  Church,  whose  power  hath  recently  been  checked, 

Whose  monstrous  riches  threatened.      So  the  shaft 

Of  victory  mounts  high,  and  blood  is  quaffed 

In  fields  that  rival  Cressy  and  Poictiers — t 

Pride  to  be  washed  away  by  bitter  tears  ! 

For  deep  as  Hell  itself,  the  avenging  draught l 

Of  civil  slaughter.     Yet,  while  temporal  power 

1  1827. 

But  mark  the  dire  effect  in  coming  years  ! 

Deep,  deep  as  hell  itself,  the  future  draught  1822. 

*  Henry  Chichele,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  in  1414,  persuaded  Henry 
V.  to  carry  on  war  with  France,  and  helped  to  raise  money  for  the  purpose. 
Henry  crossed  to  Harfleur,  Chichele  accompanying  him,  with  an  army  of 
30,000,  and  won  the  battle  of  Agincourt.— ED. 

t  E.g.,  the  battles  of  St  Alban's,  Wakefield,  Mortimer's  Cross,  Towton, 
Baniet,  Tewkesbury,  Bosworth. — ED. 


WICLIFFE.  47 

Is  by  these  shocks  exhausted,  spiritual  truth 
Maintains  the  else  endangered  gift  of  life ; 
Proceeds  from  infancy  to  lusty  youth ; 
And,  under  cover  of  this  l  woeful  strife, 
Gathers  unblighted  strength  from  hour  to  hour. 


XVII. 

WICLIFFE. 

ONCE  more  the  Church  is  seized  with  sudden  fear, 

And  at  her  call  is  Wicliffe  disinhumed ; 

Yea,  his  dry  bones  to  ashes  are  consumed 

And  flung  into  the  brook  that  travels  near. 

Forthwith,  that  ancient  Voice  which  Streams  can  hear 

Thus  speaks  (that  Voice  which  walks  upon  the  wind, 

Though  seldom  heard  by  busy  human  kind) — 

"  As  thou  these  ashes,  little  Brook !  wilt  bear 

"  Into  the  Avon,  Avon  to  the  tide 

"  Of  Severn,  Severn  to  the  narrow  seas, 

"  Into  main  Ocean  they,  this  deed  accurst 

"  An  emblem  yields  to  friends  and  enemies 

"  How  the  bold  Teacher's  Doctrine,  sanctified 

"  By  truth,  shall  spread,  throughout  the  world  dispersed."  * 

1  1827. 

that        .         .        .  1822. 

*  The  Council  of  Constance  condemned  Wicliffe  as  a  heretic,  and  issued 
an  order  that  his  remains  should  be  exhumed,  and  burnt.  "Accordingly, 
by  order  of  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  as  Diocesan  of  Lutherworth,  his  grave, 
which  was  in  the  chancel  of  the  church,  was  opened,  forty  years  after  his 
death ;  the  bones  were  taken  out  and  burnt  to  ashes,  and  the  ashes 
thrown  into  a  neighbouring  brook  called  the  Swift." — (Southey,  Vol  I., 
p.  384).  "This  brook,"  says  Fuller,  "conveyed  his  ashes  into  Avon, 
Avon  into  Severn,  Severn  into  the  narrow  seas,  they  into  the  main  ocean  ; 
and  thus  the  ashes  of  Wicliffe  are  the  emblem  of  his  doctrine,  which  now 
is  dispersed  all  the  world  over."  In  the  note  to  the  llth  Sonnet  of  Part 
I. ,  Wordsworth  acknowledges  his  obligations  to  Fuller  in  this  Sonnet  on 
Wicliffe.— ED. 


48  ABUSE  OF  MONASTIC  POWER. 

XVIII. 
CORRUPTIONS  OF  THE  HIGHER  CLERGY. 

"  WOE  to  you,  Prelates  !  rioting  in  ease 
And  cumbrous  wealth — the  shame  of  your  estate ; 
You,  on  whose  progress  dazzling  trains  await 
Of  pompous  horses ;  whom  vain  titles  please ; 
Who  will  be  served  by  others  on  their  knees, 
Yet  will  yourselves  to  God  no  service  pay ; 
Pastors  who  neither  take  nor  point  the  way 
To  Heaven ;  for,  either  lost  in  vanities 
Ye  have  no  skill  to  teach,  or  if  ye  know 

And  speak  the  word "     Alas  !  of  fearful  things 

'Tis  the  most  fearful  when  the  people's  eye 
Abuse  hath  cleared  from  vain  imaginings ; 
And  taught  the  general  voice  to  prophesy 
Of  Justice  armed,  and  Pride  to  be  laid  low. 

XIX. 

ABUSE  OF  MONASTIC  POWER. 

AND  what  is  penance  with  her  knotted  thong, 

Mortification  with  the  shirt  of  hair, 

Wan  cheek,  and  knees  indurated  with  prayer, 

Vigils,  and  fastings  rigorous  as  long ; 

If  cloistered  Avarice  scruple  not  to  wrong 

The  pious,  humble,  useful  Secular,* 

And  rob1  the  people  of  his  daily  care, 

1  i82r. 

and  robs          ......  1822. 

*  The  secular  clergy  are  the  priests  of  the  Roman  church,  who  belong  to 
no  special  religious  order,  but  have  the  charge  of  parishes,  and  so  live  in 
the  world  (secuhim).  The  regularc  lergy  are  the  monks  belonging  to  one  or 
other  of  the  monastic  orders,  and  are  subject  to  its  rules  (reguke).—  ED. 


MONASTIC  VOLUPTUOUSNESS.  49 

Scorning  that  world  whose  blindness  makes  her  strong  ? 

Inversion  strange  !  that,  unto  One  who  lives1 

Tor  self,  and  struggles  with  himself  alone, 

The  amplest  share  of  heavenly  favour  gives ; 

That  to  a  Monk  allots,  both  in  the  esteem 

Of  God  and  man,  place  higher  than  to  him2 

Who  on  the  good  of  others  builds  his  own ! 


XX. 

MONASTIC  VOLUPTUOUSNESS. 

YET  more, — round  many  a  Convent's  blazing  fire 
Unhallowed  threads  of  revelry  are  spun ; 
There  Venus  sits  disguised  like  a  Nun, — 
"While  Bacchus,  clothed  in  semblance  of  a  Friar, 
Pours  out  his  choicest  beverage  high  and  higher 
Sparkling,  until  it  cannot  choose  but  run 
Over  the  bowl,  whose  silver  lip  hath  won 
An  instant  kiss  of  masterful  desire — 
To  stay  the  precious  waste.      Through  every  brain 
The  domination  of  the  sprightly  juice 
Spreads  high  conceits  to  madding  Fancy  dear,3 
Till  the  arched  roof,  with  resolute  abuse 

1  1827. 

Scorning  their  wants  because  her  arm  is  strong  ? 
Inversion  strange  !  that  to  a  Monk,  who  lives          1822. 

2  1845. 

And  hath  allotted,  in  the  world's  esteem, 

To  such  a  higher  station  than  to  him  1822. 

That  to  a  Monk  allots,  in  the  esteem 

Of  God  and  man,  place  higher  than  to  him  1827. 

3  1832. 

In  every  brain 

Spreads  the  dominion  of  the  sprightly  juice, 
Through  the  wide  world  to  madding  Fancy  dear,     1822. 
VII.  D 


50  DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  MONASTERIES. 

Of  its  grave  echoes,  swells  a  choral  strain, 

Whose  votive  burthen  is — "  OUR  KINGDOM  's  HERE  !"  * 


XXI. 

DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  MONASTERIES. 

THREATS  come  which  no  submission  may  assuage, 

No  sacrifice  avert,  no  power  dispute  ; 

The  tapers  shall  be  quenched,  the  belfries  mute, 

And,  'mid  their  choirs  unroofed  by  selfish  rage, 

The  warbling  wren  shall  find  a  leafy  cage  ; 

The  gadding  bramble  hang  her  purple  fruit ; 

And  the  green  lizard  and  the  gilded  newt 

Lead  unmolested  lives,  and  die  of  age.t 

The  owl  of  evening  and  the  woodland  fox 

For  their  abode  the  shrines  of  Waltham  choose :  | 

Proud  Glastonbury  can  no  more  refuse 

To  stoop  her  head  before  these  desperate  shocks — 

She  whose  high  pomp  displaced,  as  story  tells, 

Arimathean  Joseph's  wattled  cells.  § 

XXII. 

THE  SAME  SUBJECT. 

THE  lovely  Nun  (submissive,  but  more  meek 
Through  saintly  habit  than  from  effort  due 

*  See  Wordsworth's  note  to  the  next  Sonnet. — ED. 

t  These  two  lines  are  adopted  from  a  MS. ,  written  about  the  year  1770, 
which  accidentally  fell  into  my  possession.  The  close  of  the  preceding 
Sonnet  on  monastic  voluptuousness  is  taken  from  the  same  source,  as  is  the 
verse,  "  Where  Venus  sits,"  &c.,  and  the  line,  "  Once  ye  were  holy,  ye  are 
holy  still,"  in  a  subsequent  Sonnet.— W.  W.,  1822. 

J  Waltham  Abbey  is  in  Essex,  on  the  Lea. — ED. 

§  Alluding  to  the  Roman  legend  that  Joseph  of  Arimathea  brought 
Christianity  into  Britain,  and  built  Glastonbury  Church.  See  note  to 
Sonnet  V.— ED. 


DISSOLUTION  OF  THE  MONASTERIES.  5 1 

To  unrelenting  mandates  that  pursue 

With  equal  wrath  the  steps  of  strong  and  weak) 

Goes  forth — unveiling  timidly  a  cheek 1 

Suffused  with  blushes  of  celestial  hue, 

While  through  the  Convent's  2  gate  to  open  view 

Softly  she  glides,  another  home  to  seek. 

Not  Iris,  issuing  from  her  cloudy  shrine, 

An  Apparition  more  divinely  bright ! 

Not  more  attractive  to  the  dazzled  sight 

Those  watery  glories,  on  the  stormy  brine 

Poured  forth,  while  summer  suns  at  distance  shine, 

And  the  green  vales  lie  hushed  in  sober  light ! 


XXIII. 

CONTINUED. 

YET  many  a  Novice  of  the  cloistral  shade, 
And  many  chained  by  vows,  with  eager  glee3 
The  warrant  hail,  exulting  to  be  free ; 
Like  ships  before  whose  keels,  full  long  embayed 
In  polar  ice,  propitious  winds  have  made 
Unlooked-for  outlet  to  an  open  sea, 
Their  liquid  world,  for  bold  discovery, 
In  all  her  quarters  temptingly  displayed ! 


1837. 

her  cheek  1822. 

1837. 

Convent        .        .        .  1822. 

1843. 

Yet  some,  Noviciates  of  the  cloistral  shade, 

Or  chained  by  vows,  with  imdissembled  glee  1822. 


52  SAINTS. 

Hope  guides  the  young ;  but  when  the  old  must  pass 
The  threshold,  whither  shall  they  turn  to  find 
The  hospitality — the  alms  (alas  ! 
Alms  may  be  needed)  which  that  House  bestowed  ? 
Can  they,  in  faith  and  worship,  train  the  mind 
To  keep  this  new  and  questionable  road  ? 


XXIV. 

SAINTS. 

YE,  too,  must  fly  before  a  chasing  hand, 

Angels  and  Saints,  in  every  hamlet  mourned  ! 

Ah  !  if  the  old  idolatry  he  spurned, 

Let  not  your  radiant  Shapes  desert  the  Land : 

Her  adoration  was  not  your  demand, 

The  fond  heart  proffered  it — the  servile  heart ; 

And  therefore  are  ye  summoned  to  depart, 

Michael,  and  thou,  St  George,  whose  flaming  brand 

The  Dragon  quelled ;  and  valiant  Margaret,! 

Whose  rival  sword  a  like  Opponent  slew : 

And  rapt  Cecilia,  seraph-haunted  Queen  |. 

Of  harmony,  and  weeping  Magdalene, 

Who  in  the  penitential  desert  met 

Gales  sweet  as  those  that  over  Eden  blew  ! 


*  St  George,  patron  Saint  of  England,  supposed  to  have  suffered  A.D. 
284.     The  Greek  Church  honours  him  as  "the  great  martyr." — ED. 

t  St  Margaret,  supposed  to  have  suffered  martyrdom  at  Antioch,  A.D.  275. 

—ED. 

$  St  Cecilia,  patron  Saint  of  Music,  has  been  enrolled  as  a  martyr  by  the 
Latin  Church  from  the  5th  century.  — ED. 


THE  VIRGIN.  53 

XXV. 

THE  VIKGIN.* 

MOTHER  !  whose  virgin  bosom  was  uncrost 
With  the  least  shade  of  thought  to  sin  allied  ; 
Woman  !  above  all  women  glorified, 
Our  tainted  nature's  solitary  boast ; 
Purer  than  foam  on  central  ocean  tost ; 
Brighter  than  eastern  skies  at  daybreak  strewn 
With  fancied  roses,  than  the  unblemished  moon 
Before  her  wane  begins  on  heaven's  blue  coast ; 
Thy  Image  falls  to  earth.     Yet  some,  I  ween, 
Not  unforgiven  the  suppliant  knee  might  bend, 
As  to  a  visible  Power,  in  which  did  blend 
All  that  was  mixed  and  reconciled  in  Thee 
Of  mother's  love  with  maiden  purity, 
Of  high  with  low,  celestial  with  terrene ! 


*  Compare  the  following  Sonnet  by  John  Nichol,  Professor  of  English 
Literature  in  the  University  of  Glasgow. 

AVE  MARIA. 

Ave  Maria  !  on  a  thousand  thrones 

Raised  by  the  weary  hearts  that  beat  to  thee, 
As  'neath  the  softer  light  the  throbbing  sea, 

Thy  name  a  spell  of  peace,  in  lingering  tones 

Is  whispered  through  the  world  :  thy  truth  condones 
The  feebler  faith  of  worshippers  that  flee, 
Lost  in  the  sovereign  awe,  to  bend  the  knee 

By  pictured  holiness  or  breathing  stones. 

Mother  of  Christ !  whom  ages  old  adorn, 

And  hundred  climes,  by  gentle  thought  and  deed, 

Forgive  the  sacrilege,  the  brandished  scorn 
Of  the  grim  guardians  of  a  narrow  creed, 

Who  fence  their  folds  from  Love's  serener  law, 

And  "  grate  on  scrannel  pipes  of  wretched  straw." 

—ED. 


54  IMAGINATIVE  REGRETS. 

XXVI. 
APOLOGY. 

NOT  utterly  unworthy  to  endure 

Was  the  supremacy  of  crafty  Kome  ;  * 

Age  after  age  to  the  arch  of  Christendom 

Aerial  keystone  haughtily  secure  ; 

Supremacy  from  Heaven  transmitted  pure, 

As  many  hold ;  and,  therefore,  to  the  tomb 

Pass,  some  through  fire — and  by  the  scaffold  some — 

Like  saintly  Fisher,  t  and  unbending  More,J 

'  Lightly  for  both  the  bosom's  lord  did  sit 

Upon  his  throne ; '  unsoftened,  undismayed 

By  aught  that  mingled  with  the  tragic  scene 

Of  pity  or  fear ;  and  More's  gay  genius  played 

With  the  inoffensive  sword  of  native  wit, 

Than  the  bare  axe  more  luminous  and  keen. 

XXVII. 

IMAGINATIVE  KEGKETS. 
DEEP  is  the  lamentation  !     Not  alone 
From  Sages  justly  honoured  by  mankind  ; 
But  from  the  ghostly  tenants  of  the  wind, 
Demons  and  Spirits,  many  a  dolorous  groan 
Issues  for  that  dominion  overthrown : 

"To  the  second  part  of  the  same  series"  (the  Ecclesiastical  Sonnets) 
"  I  have  added  two,  in  order  to  do  more  justice  to  the  Papal  Church  for  the 
services  which  she  did  actually  render  to  Christianity  and  Humanity  in  the 
Middle  Ages."— W.  W.  (in  a  letter  to  Professor  Reed,  Sept.  4,  1842).— ED. 

t  John  Fisher,  born  in  1487,  became  Bishop  of  Rochester  in  1504,  was  one 
of  the  first  in  England  to  write  against  Luther,  opposed  the  divorce  of 
Henry  VIII.,  was  sent  to  the  Tower  in  1534,  and  his  see  declared  void,  was 
made  a  Cardinal  by  the  Pope  while  in  prison,  and  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill, 
1535.— ED. 

t  Sir  Thomas  More,  the  author  of  Utopia,  born  in  1480,  was  Speaker  of 
the  House  of  Commons  in  1523,  and  succeeded  Wolsey  as  Lord  Chancellor 
in  1 530.  Disapproving  of  the  king's  divorce,  he  resigned  office,  was  com- 
mitted to  the  Tower  for  refusing  to  take  the  oath  of  supremacy,  found 
guilty  of  treason,  and  beheaded  in  1535.— ED. 


REFLECTIONS.  55 

Proud  Tiber  grieves,  and  far-off  Ganges,  blind 
As  his  own  worshippers :  and  Nile,  reclined 
Upon  his  monstrous  urn,  the  farewell  moan 
Renews.  *     Through  every  forest,  cave,  and  den, 
Where  frauds  were  hatched  of  old,  hath  sorrow  past — 
Hangs  o'er  the  Arabian  Prophet's  native  Waste,! 
Where  once  his  airy  helpers  t  schemed  and  planned 
'Mid  spectral  1  lakes  bemocking  thirsty  men,§ 
And  stalking  pillars  built  of  fiery  sand.|| 

XXVIII. 

REFLECTIONS. 

GRANT  that  by  this  unsparing  hurricane 
Green  leaves  with  yellow  mixed  are  torn  away, 
And  goodly  fruitage  with  the  mother  spray ; 
'Twere  madness  wished  we,  therefore,  to  detain, 
With  hands  stretched  forth  in2  mollified  disdain, 
The  '  trumpery '  that  ascends  in  bare  display — 
Bulls,  pardons,  relics,  cowls  black  white  and  grey — 
Upwhirled,  and  flying  o'er  the  ethereal  plain 
Fast  bound  for  Limbo  Lake.lT     And  yet  not  choice 
But  habit  rules  the  unreflecting  herd, 
And  airy  bonds  are  hardest  to  disown ; 
Hence,  with  the  spiritual  sovereignty  transferred 
Unto  itself,  the  Crown  assumes  a  voice 
Of  reckless  mastery,  hitherto  unknown. 

1  1837. 

'Mid  phantom        ......  1322. 

2  1827. 

With  farewell  sighs  of  ....  1822. 

*  Compare  the  echo  of  the  Lady's  voice  in  the  lines  To  Joanna,  in  the 
"  Poems  on  the  naming  of  places  "  (Vol.  II.  p.  158> — ED. 

t  The  desert  around  Mecca. — ED. 

£  Mahomet  affirmed  that  he  had  constant  visits  from  angels  ;  and  that 
the  angel  Gabriel  dictated  to  him  the  Koran.— ED. 

§  The  mirage. — ED. 

||  Pillars  of  sand  raised  by  whirlwinds  in  the  desert,  which  correspond  to 
waterspouts  at  sea. — ED.  IF  Hades.— ED. 


56  THE  POINT  AT  ISSUE. 

XXIX. 

TRANSLATION  OF  THE  BIBLE. 

BUT,  to  outweigh  all  harm,  the  sacred  Book, 

In  dusty  sequestration  wrapt  too  long, 

Assumes  the  accents  of  our  native  tongue ; 

And  he  who  guides  the  plough,  or  wields  the  crook, 

With  understanding  spirit  now  may  look 

Upon  her  records,  listen  to  her  song, 

And  sift  her  laws — much  wondering  that  the  wrong, 

Which  Faith  has  suffered,  Heaven  could  calmly  brook. 

Transcendent  boon !  noblest  that  earthly  King 

Ever  bestowed  to  equalize  and  bless 

Under  the  weight  of  mortal  wretchedness  ! 

But  passions  spread  like  plagues,  and  thousands  wild 

With  bigotry  shall  tread  the  Offering 

Beneath  their  feat,  detested  and  defiled.* 


XXX. 

THE  POINT  AT  ISSUE. 

Pub.  1827. 

FOR  what  contend  the  wise  ? — for  nothing  less 
Than  that  the  Soul,  freed  from  the  bonds  of  Sense, 
And  to  her  God  restored  by  evidence 1 
Of  things  not  seen,  drawn  forth  from  their  recess, 
Root  there,  and  not  in  forms,  her  holiness ; — 
For  2  Faith,  which  to  the  Patriarchs  did  dispense 

11832. 

Than  that  pure  faith  dissolve  the  bonds  of  sense  ; 
The  soul  restored  to  God  by  evidence   .        .  1827. 

2  1832. 

That 1827. 

*  As  was  the  case  during  the  French  Revolution.  —ED. 


EDWARD  VI.  57 

Sure  guidance,  ere  a  ceremonial  fence 

Was  needful  round  men  thirsting  to  transgress ; — 

For  l  Faith,  more  perfect  still,  with  which  the  Lord 

Of  all,  himself  a  Spirit,  in  the  youth 

Of  Christian  aspiration,  deigned  to  fill 

The  temples  of  their  hearts  who,  with  his  word 

Informed,  were  resolute  to  do  his  will, 

And  worship  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 


XXXI. 

EDWAED  VI. 

'  SWEET  is  the  holiness  of  Youth ' — so  felt 

Time-honoured  Chaucer  speaking  through  that  Lay  2 

By  which  the  Prioress  beguiled  the  way,* 

And  many  a  Pilgrim's  rugged  heart  did  melt. 

Hadst  thou,  loved  Bard  !  whose  spirit  often  dwelt 

In  the  clear  land  of  vision,  but  foreseen 

King,  child,  and  seraph,t  blended  in  the  mien 

Of  pious  Edward  kneeling  as  he  knelt 

In  meek  and  simple  infancy,  what  joy 

For  universal  Christendom  had  thrilled 

Thy  heart !  what  hopes  inspired  thy  genius,  skilled 

(0  great  Precursor,  genuine  morning  Star) 

The  lucid  shafts  of  reason  to  employ, 

Piercing  the  Papal  darkness  from  afar ! 

1  1832. 

That 1827. 

2  1845. 

Chaucer  when  he  framed  the  lay  1822. 

Chaucer  when  he  framed  that  lay  1837. 

*  The  quotation  is  not  from  The  Prioress's  Tale  of  Chaucer,  but  from 
Wordsworth's  own  Selections  from  Chaucer  modernized,  st.  ix.  Wordsworth 
adds  an  idea,  not  found  in  the  original,  and  to  make  room  for  it,  he 
extends  the  stanza  from  seven  to  eight  lines. — ED. 

t  King  Edward  VI.  ascended  the  throne  in  1547,  at  the  age  of  ten,  and 
reigned  for  six  years.— ED. 


58  REVIVAL  OF  POPERY. 


XXXII. 

EDWAED  SIGNING  THE  WAEEANT  FOE  THE 
EXECUTION  OF  JOAN  OF  KENT. 

THE  tears  of  man  in  various  measure  gush 

From  various  sources ;  gently  overflow 

From  blissful  transport  some ;  from  clefts  of  woe 

Some  with  ungovernable  impulse  rush  ; 

And  some,  coeval  with  the  earliest  blush 

Of  infant  passion,  scarcely  dare  to  show 

Their  pearly  lustre — coming  but  to  go ; 

And  some  break  forth  when  others'  sorrows  crush 

The  sympathising  heart.      Nor  these,  nor  yet 

The  noblest  drops  to  admiration  known, 

To  gratitude,  to  injuries  forgiven ; 

Claim  Heaven's  regard  like  waters  that  have  wet 

The  innocent  eyes  of  youthful  Monarchs  driven 

To  pen  the  mandates,  nature  doth  disown.* 


XXXIII. 

REVIVAL  OF  POPEEY. 

Pub.  1827. 

THE  saintly  Youth  has  ceased  to  rule,  discrowned l 
By  unrelenting  Death.!      0  People  keen 
For  change,  to  whom  the  new  looks  always  green  ! 

1   1832. 

Melts  into  silent  shades  the  youth,  discrowned,        1827. 

*  Joan  Bocher,  of  Kent,  a  woman  of  good  birth,  friend  of  Ann  Askew 
at  Court,  was  accused,  and  condemned  to  die  for  maintaining  that  Christ 
was  human  only  in  appearance.  Cranmer,  by  order  of  the  Council, 
obtained  from  Edward  a  warrant  for  her  execution.  Edward,  who  was 
then  in  his  thirteenth  year,  signed  it,  telling  Cranmer  that  he  must  be 
answerable  for  the  deed. — ED. 

t  Edward  died  in  1553,  aged  sixteen. — ED. 


LATIMER  AND  RIDLEY.  59 

Rejoicing  did  they  cast  upon  the  ground l 

Their  Gods  of  wood  and  stone ;  and,  at  the  sound 

Of  counter-proclamation,  now  are  seen, 

(Proud  triumph  is  it  for  a  sullen  Queen  !) 

Lifting  them  up,  the  worship  to  confound 

Of  the  Most  High.     Again  do  they  invoke 

The  Creature,  to  the  Creature  glory  give ; 

Again  with  frankincense  the  altars  smoke 

Like  those  the  Heathen  served ;  and  mass  is  sung ; 

And  prayer,  man's  rational  prerogative, 

Runs  through  blind  channels  of  an  unknown  tongue.* 


xxxiv. 

LATIMER  AND  RIDLEY. 
Pub.  1827. 

How  fast  the  Marian  death-list  is  unrolled  ! 
See  Latimer  and  Ridley  in  the  might 
Of  Faith  stand  coupled  for  a  common  flight !  t 
One  (like  those  prophets  whom  God  sent  of  old) 
Transfigured  J  from  this  kindling  hath  foretold 

1  1832. 

They  cast,  they  cast  with  joy  upon  the  ground         1827. 

*  On  the  death  of  Edward  and  the  accession  of  Mary  Tudor,  the  Roman 
Catholic  worship  was  restored,  all  the  statutes  of  Edward  VI.  with  regard 
to  religion  being  repealed  by  Parliament. — ED. 

t  Hugh  Latimer,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  and  Nicholas  Ridley,  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  were  sent  to  the  Tower,  and  subsequently  burnt  together  at 
Oxford  in  the  front  of  Balliol  College,  Oct.  16th,  1555.— ED. 

t  "  M.  Latimer  suffered  his  keeper  very  quietly  to  pull  off  his  hose,  and 
his  other  array,  which  to  looke  unto  was  very  simple  :  and  being  stripped 
into  his  shrowd,  he  seemed  as  comely  a  person  to  them  that  were  present, 
as  one  should  lightly  see  :  and  whereas  in  his  clothes  hee  appeared  a 
withered  and  crooked  sillie  (weak)  olde  man,  he  now  stood  bolt  upright,  as 
comely  a  father  as  one  might  lightly  behold.  *  *  *  *  Then  they  brought 
a  faggotte,  kindled  with  fire,  and  laid  the  same  downe  at  doctor  Ridley's 
feete.  To  whome  M.  Latimer  spake  in  this  manner,  '  Bee  of  good  comfort, 


60  CRANMER. 

A  torch  of  inextinguishable  light ; 

The  Other  gains  a  confidence  as  bold ; 

And  thus  they  foil  their  enemy's  despite. 

The  penal  instruments,  the  shows  of  crime, 

Are  glorified  while  this  once-mitred  pair 

Of  saintly  Friends  the  '  murtherer's  chain  partake, 

Corded,  and  burning  at  the  social  stake : ' 

Earth  never  witnessed  object  more  sublime 

In  constancy,  in  fellowship  more  fair ! 


xxxv. 
CKANMER* 

OUTSTRETCHING  flame-ward  his  upbraided  hand1 
(0  God  of  mercy,  may  no  earthly  Seat 

1  1827. 

upbraiding  hand  1822. 

master  Ridley,  and  play  the  man  :  wee  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle 
by  God's  grace  in  England,  as  I  trust  shall  never  bee  put  out." — Fox's 
Acts,  &c. 

Similar  alterations  in  the  outward  figure  and  deportment  of  persons 
brought  to  like  trial  were  not  uncommon.  See  note  to  the  above  passage 
in  Dr  Wordsworth's  Ecclesiastical  Biography,  for  an  example  in  an  humble 
Welsh  fisherman.— W.  W.,  1827.— Ecclesiastical  Biography,  Vol.  III.  pp. 
287,  288.— ED. 

*  Cranmer,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  leader  in  the  ecclesiastical 
affairs  of  England  during  the  latter  part  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Edward 
VI. 's  reign,  was,  on  the  accession  of  Mary  Tudor,  committed  to  the  Tower, 
tried  on  charges  of  heresy,  and  condemned.  He  recanted  his  opinions,  but 
was  nevertheless  condemned  to  die.  He  then  recanted  his  recantation. 
' '  They  brought  him  to  the  spot  where  Latimer  and  Ridley  had  suffered. 
After  a  short  prayer,  he  put  off  his  clothes  with  a  cheerful  countenance  and 
a  willing  mind.  His  feet  were  bare ;  his  head  appeared  perfectly  bald. 
Called  to  abide  by  his  recantation,  he  stretched  forth  his  right  arm,  and 
replied,  'This  is  the  hand  that  wrote  it,  and  therefore  it  shall  suffer  punish- 
ment first.'  Firm  to  his  purpose,  as  soon  as  the  flame  rose,  he  held  his  hand 
out  to  meet  it,  and  retained  it  there  steadfastly,  so  that  all  the  people  saw 
it  sensibly  burning  before  the  fire  reached  any  other  part  of  his  body  ;  and 
after  he  repeated  with  a  loud  and  firm  voice,  'This  hand  hath 
offended,  this  unworthy  right  hand.'  Never  did  martyr  endure  the  fire 
with  more  invincible  resolution ;  no  cry  was  heard  from  him,  save  the 


TROUBLES  OF  THE  REFORMATION.         61 

Of  judgment  such  presumptuous  doom  repeat !) 

Amid  the  shuddering  throng  doth  Cranmer  stand ; 

Firm  as  the  stake  to  which  with  iron  band 

His  frame  is  tied ;  firm  from  the  naked  feet 

To  the  bare  head.     The  victory  is  complete ; l 

The  shrouded  Body  to  the  Soul's  command 

Answers  2  with  more  than  Indian  fortitude, 

Through  all  her  nerves  with  finer  sense  endued, 

Till  breath  departs  in  blissful  aspiration : 

Then,  'mid  the  ghastly  ruins  of  the  fire, 

Behold  the  unalterable  heart  entire, 

Emblem  of  faith  untouched,  miraculous  attestation  ! 3  * 


xxxvi. 

GENERAL  VIEW  OF  THE  TROUBLES  OF  THE 
REFORMATION. 

AID,  glorious  Martyrs,  from  your  fields  of  light, 

Our  mortal  ken  !     Inspire  a  perfect  trust 

(While  we  look  round)  that  Heaven's  decrees  are  just ; 

Which  few  can  hold  committed  to  a  fight 

That  shows,  ev'n  on  its  better  side,  the  might 

1  1837. 

,  the  victory  complete  ;  1822. 

2  1837. 

Answering        ......  1822. 

3  1827. 

Now  wrapt  in  flames — and  now  in  smoke  embowered — 
'Till  self-reproach  and  panting  aspirations 
Are,  with  the  heart  that  held  them,  all  devoured  ; 
The  Spirit  set  free,  and  crown'd  with  joyful 

acclamations  !  1822. 

exclamation  of  the  protomartyr  Stephen,  '  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit ! ' 
The  fire  did  its  work  soon — and  his  heart  was  found  unconsumed  amid  the 
ashes."— (Southey's  Book  of  the  Church,  Vol  II.  pp.  240,  241.)— ED. 
*  For  the  belief  in  this  fact,  see  the  contemporary  Historians. — W.  W. 


62  ENGLISH  REFORMERS  IN  EXILE. 

Of  proud  Self-will,  Rapacity,  and  Lust, 
'Mid  clouds  enveloped  of  polemic  dust, 
Which  showers  of  blood  seem  rather  to  incite 
Than  to  allay.      Anathemas  are  hurled 
From  both  sides  ;  veteran  thunders  (the  brute  test 
Of  truth)  are  met  by  fulminations  new ; 
Tartarean  flags  are  caught  at,  and  unfurled ; 
Friends  strike  at  friends — the  flying  shall  pursue — 
And  Victory  sickens,  ignorant  where  to  rest ! 


XXXVII. 

ENGLISH  REFORMERS  IN  EXILE.* 

SCATTERING,  like  birds  escaped  the  fowler's  net, 

Some  seek  with  timely  flight  a  foreign  strand ; 

Most  happy,  re-assembled  in  a  land 

By  dauntless  Luther  freed,  could  they  forget 

Their  Country's  woes.     But  scarcely  have  they  met, 

Partners  in  faith,  and  brothers  in  distress, 

Free  to  pour  forth  their  common  thankfulness, 

Ere  hope  declines : — their  union  is  beset 

With  speculative  notions l  rashly  sown, 

1  1327. 

With  prurient  speculations        .         .         .  1822. 

*  During  Mary's  reign,  fully  800  of  the  English  clergy  and  laity  sought 
refuge  on  the  Continent,  and  they  were  hospitably  received  in  Switzerland, 
the  Low  Countries,  and  along  the  Rhine.  Some  of  the  best  known  were 
Coverdale,  Sandys,  Jewel,  Knox,  Whittingham,  and  Foxe.  They  lived 
in  Basle,  Zurich,  Geneva,  Strasburg,  Worms,  and  Frankfort;  and  it 
was  in  the  latter  town  that  the  dissensions  prevailed,  referred  to  in  the 
sonnet.  These  was  unfolded  in  a  Tract  entitled  The  Troubles  of  Frankfort. 
The  chief  point  in  dispute  was  the  use  of  the  English  Book  of  Common 
Prayer.  Knox  and  Whittingham,  under  the  guidance  of  Calvin,  wished 
a  modification  of  this  book.  The  dispute  ended  in  the  Frankfort  magis- 
trates requesting  Knox  to  leave  the  city.  He  retired  to  Geneva.  On  the 
accession  of  Elizabeth,  the  Frankfort  exiles  returned  to  England. — ED. 


ELIZABETH.  63 

Whence  thickly-sprouting  growth  of  poisonous  weeds ; 
Their  forms  are  broken  staves ;  their  passions,  steeds 
That  master  them.     How  enviably  blest 
Is  he  who  can,  by  help  of  grace,  enthrone 
The  peace  of  God  within  his  single  breast ! 


XXXVIII. 

ELIZABETH. 

HAIL,  Virgin  Queen !  o'er  many  an  envious  bar 
Triumphant,  snatched  from  many  a  treacherous  wile  ! 
All  hail,  sage  Lady,  whom  a  grateful  Isle 
Hath  blest,  respiring  from  that  dismal  war 
Stilled  by  thy  voice !     But  quickly  from  afar 
Defiance  breathes  with  more  malignant  aim ; 
And  alien  storms  with  home-bred  ferments  claim 
Portentous  fellowship.  *     Her  silver  car, 
By  sleepless l  prudence  ruled,  glides  slowly  on ; 
Unhurt  by  violence,  from  menaced  taint 
Emerging  pure,  and  seemingly  more  bright : 
Ah !  wherefore  yields  it  to  a  foul  constraint,! 
Black  as  the  clouds  its  beams  dispersed,  while  shone, 
By  men  and  angels  blest,  the  glorious  light  ? 2 

1  1827. 

Meanwhile,  by  1822 

2  1845. 

For,  wheresoe'er  she  moves,  the  clouds  anon 

Disperse  ;  or— under  a  Divine  constraint — 

Eenect  some  portion  of  her  glorious  light !  1822. 

*  Alluding  doubtless  to  the  foreign  conspiracies  against  Elizabeth,  the 
intrigues  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  the  Pope's  excommunication,  and 
conspiracies  in  the  North  of  England,  &c.  See  The  White  Doe.— ED. 

t  An  allusion  probably  to  the  Court  of  High  Commission,  and  perhaps 
also  to  the  execution  of  the  Scottish  Queen.— ED. 


64  EMINENT  REFORMERS. 

XXXIX. 

EMINENT  REFORMERS. 

METHINKS  that  I  could  trip  o'er  heaviest  soil, 

Light  as  a  buoyant  bark  from  wave  to  wave, 

Were  mine  the  trusty  staff  that  JEWEL  gave 

To  youthful  HOOKER,  in  familiar  style 

The  gift  exalting,  and  with  playful  smile :  * 

For  thus  equipped,  and  bearing  on  his  head 

The  Donor's  farewell  blessing,  can 1  he  dread 

Tempest,  or  length  of  way,  or  weight  of  toil  ? — 

More  sweet  than  odours  caught  by  him  who  sails 

Near  spicy  shores  of  Araby  the  blest, 

A  thousand  times  more  exquisitely  sweet, 

The  freight  of  holy  feeling  which  we  meet, 

In  thoughtful  moments,  wafted  by  the  gales 

From  fields  where  good  men  walk,  or  bowers  wherein  they  rest. 

1  1827. 

COuld  .  .  1822. 

*  "  On  foot  they  *  went,  and  took  Salisbury  in  their  way,  purposely  to  see 
the  good  Bishop,  who  made  Mr  Hooker  sit  at  his  own  table  ;  which  Mr 
Hooker  boasted  of  with  much  joy  and  gratitude  when  he  saw  his  mother 
and  friends ;  and  at  the  Bishop's  parting  with  him,  the  Bishop  gave  him 
good  counsel  and  his  benediction,  but  forgot  to  give  him  money ;  which 
when  the  Bishop  had  considered,  he  sent  a  servant  in  all  haste  to  call 
Richard  back  to  him,  and  at  Richard's  return,  the  Bishop  said  to  him, 
'  Richard,  I  sent  for  you  back  to  lend  you  a  horse  which  hath  carried  me 
many  a  mile,  and  I  thank  God  with  much  ease,'  and  presently  delivered 
into  his  hand  a  walking-staff,  with  which  he  professed  he  had  travelled 
through  many  parts  of  Germany  ;  and  he  said,  '  Richard,  I  do  not  give,  but 
lend  you  my  horse  ;  be  sure  you  be  honest,  and  bring  my  horse  back  to  me, 
at  your  return  this  way  to  Oxford.  And  I  do  now  give  you  ten  groats  to 
bear  your  charges  to  Exeter  ;  and  here  is  ten  groats  more,  which  I  charge 
you  to  deliver  to  your  mother,  and  tell  her  I  send  her  a  Bishop's  benedic- 
tion with  it,  and  beg  the  continuance  of  her  prayers  for  me.  And  if  you 
bring  my  horse  back  to  me,  I  will  give  you  ten  groats  more  to  carry  you 
on  foot  to  the  college  ;  and  so  God  bless  you,  good  Richard.'" — See  Wal- 
ton's Life  of  Richard  Hooker.— W.  W.,  1822. 

*  i.e.,  Richard  Hooker  and  a  College  companion. — ED. 


EMINENT  KEFORMERS.  65 

XL. 
THE  SAME. 

HOLY  and  heavenly  Spirits  as  they  are, 

Spotless  in  life,  and  eloquent  as  wise, 

With  what  entire  affection  do  they  prize  * 

Their  Church  reformed  I1  labouring  with  earnest  care 

To  baffle  all  that  may  2  her  strength  impair ; 

That  Church,  the  unperverted  Gospel's  seat ; 

In  their  afflictions  a  divine  retreat ; 

Source  of  their  liveliest  hope,  and  tenderest  prayer  I — 

The  truth  exploring  with  an  equal  mind, 

In  doctrine  and  communion  they  have  sought 3 

Firmly  between  the  two  extremes  to  steer; 

But  theirs  the  wise  man's  ordinary  lot, 

To  trace  right  courses  for  the  stubborn  blind, 

And  prophesy  to  ears  that  will  not  hear. 

1  1845. 

did  they  prize 

Their  new-born  Church  !  1822. 

do  they  prize 

Their  new-born  Church  !  1827. 


might 

3  1827. 

In  polity  and  discipline  they  sought  1822. 

*  The  reading,  "Then:  new-born  Church,"  printed  in  all  editions  of  the 
poems  from  1822  till  1842,  had  been  objected  to  by  several  correspondents  ; 
and  out  of  deference  to  their  suggestions  it  was  altered  to  "Their  Church 
reformed;"  but  Wordsworth  wrote  to  his  nephew  and  biographer,  Nov. 
12,  1846,  " I  don't  like  the  term  reformed;  if  taken  in  its  literal  sense  as  a 
transformation,  it  is  very  objectionable"  (See  Memoirs,  Vol.  II.,  p.  113), 
and  in  the  "postscript"  to  Yarrow  Revisited,  &c.,  he  says,  "The  great 
Religious  Reformation  of  the  sixteenth  century  did  not  profess  to  be  a  new 
construction,  but  a  restoration  of  something  fallen  into  decay,  or  put  out  of 
sight."— ED. 

VII.  E 


66  DISTRACTIONS. 

XLI. 
DISTINCTIONS. 

MEN,  who  have  ceased  to  reverence,  soon  defy 

Their  forefathers ;  lo !  sects  are  formed,  and  split 

With  morbid  restlessness  ;  * — the  ecstatic  fit 

Spreads  wide ;  though  special  mysteries  multiply, 

The  Saints  must  govern,  is  their  common  cry ; 

And  so  they  labour,  deeming  Holy  Writ 

Disgraced  by  aught  that  seems  content  to  sit 

Beneath  the  roof  of  settled  Modesty. 

The  Eomanist  exults ;  fresh  hope  he  draws 

From  the  confusion,  craftily  incites 

The  overweening,  personates  the  mad — t 

To  heap  disgust  upon  the  worthier  Cause : 

Totters  the  Throne ; 1  the  new-born  Church  %  is  sad 

For  every  wave  against  her  peace  unites. 

1  1827. 

The  Throne  is  plagued  ;  1822. 

*  The  first  nonconforming  sect  in  England  originated  in  1556.  It  broke 
off  from  the  Church,  simply  on  a  question  of  vestments.  The  chief  divisions 
of  English  Nonconformity  in  the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  century  were  (1) 
the  Brunists,  or  Barronists.  The  disciples  of  Brun  quarrelled  and  divided 
amongst  themselves.  (2)  the  Familists,  an  offshoot  of  the  Dutch  Anabap- 
tists, a  mystic  sect  which  quarrelled  with  the  Puritans.  (3)  The  Anabap- 
tists, who  were  not  only  religious  sectaries,  but  who  differed  with  the 
Church  on  sundry  social  and  civil  matters.  "They  denied  the  sanctity  of 
an  oath,  the  binding  power  of  laws,  the  right  of  the  magistrate  to  punish, 
and  the  rights  of  property." — (Perry's  History  of  the  English  Church, 
p.  315.)  See  also  Hooker,  Preface  to  his  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  c.  viii. 
6-12;  and,  on  the  "indigested  enthusiastical  scheme  called  The  Kingdom 
of  Christ,  or  of  his  Saints,"  the  Life  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  Eccl.  Biog.  iv.  533. 
—ED. 

t  A  common  device  in  religious  and  political  conflicts. — See  Strype,  in 
support  of  this  instance. — W.  W.,  1822.  Probably  the  reference  is  to  the 
case  of  Cussin,  a  Dominican  Friar,  who  pretended  to  be  a  Puritan  minister, 
and  in  his  devotions  assumed  the  airs  of  madness.  See  in  Strype,  the 
Life  of  Archbishop  Parker,  Vol.  L,  chaps,  xiii.  and  xvi. — ED. 

$  See  the  note  to  the  previous  sonnet,  No.  XL.— ED. 


ILLUSTRATION.  67 

XLIL 

GUNPOWDEK  PLOT.* 
FEAR  hath  a  hundred  eyes  that  all  agree 
To  plague  her  beating  heart ;  and  there  is  one 
(Nor  idlest  that !)  which  holds  communion 
With  things  that  were  not,  yet  were  meant  to  be. 
Aghast  within  its  gloomy  cavity 
That  eye  (which  sees  as  if  fulfilled  and  done 
Crimes  that  might  stop  the  motion  of  the  sun) 
Beholds  the  horrible  catastrophe 
Of  an  assembled  Senate  unredeemed 
From  subterraneous  Treason's  darkling  power : 
Merciless  act  of  sorrow  infinite  ! 
Worse  than  the  product  of  that  dismal  night, 
When  gushing,  copious  as  a  thunder-shower, 
The  blood  of  Huguenots  through  Paris  streamed,  t 

XLIII. 
ILLUSTKATIOK 

THE  JUNG-FRAU  AND  THE  FALL  OF  THE  RHINE  NEAR  SCHAFFHATJSEN. 

THE  Virgin  Mountain,  t  wearing  like  a  Queen 
A  brilliant  crown  of  everlasting  snow, 
Sheds  ruin  from  her  sides ;  and  men  below 
Wonder  that  aught  of  aspect  so  serene 
Can  link  with  desolation.      Smooth  and  green 
And  seeming,  at  a  little  distance,  slow, 
The  waters  of  the  Ehine ;  but  on  they  go 
Fretting  and  whitening,  keener  and  more  keen ; 

*  Originated  by  Robert  Catesby,  the  intention  being  to  destroy  King, 
Lords,  and  Commons,  by  an  explosion  at  Westminster,  when  James  I.  went 
in  person  to  open  Parliament  on  the  5th  November  1605. — ED. 

t  The  massacre  on  St  Bartholomew's  Day,  Aug.  24,  1572.— ED. 

J  The  Jung.frau.-W.  W, 


68  TROUBLES  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIRST. 

Till  madness  seizes  on  the  whole  wide  Flood, 
Turned  to  a  fearful  Thing  whose  nostrils  breathe 
Blasts  of  tempestuous  smoke — wherewith  he  tries 1 
To  hide  himself,  but  only  magnifies ; 
And  doth  in  more  conspicuous  torment  writhe, 
Deafening  the  region  in  his  ireful  mood.* 


XLIV. 
TROUBLES  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIRST. 

EVEN  such  the  contrast  that,  where'er  we  move,2 
To  the  mind's  eye  Religion  doth  present ; 
Now  with  her  own  deep  quietness  content ; 
Then,  like  the  mountain,  thundering  from  above 
Against  the  ancient  pine-trees  of  the  grove 

1  1827. 

with  which  he  tries  1822. 

2  1832. 

Such  contrast,  in  whatever  track  we  move,  1822. 

Such  is  the  contrast,  which  where'er  we  move,         1827. 

*  This  Sonnet  was  included  among  the  Memorials  of  a  Tour  on  the  Con- 
tinent in  1822. 

The  following  extracts  from  Mrs  Wordsworth's  Journal  of  the  Continental 
Tour  in  1820  will  illustrate  it.  "Aug.  9. — I  am  seated  before  Jung- 
frau,  in  the  green  vale  of  Interlaken,  '  green  to  the  very  door,'  with 
rich  shade  of  walnut  trees,  the  river  behind  the  house.  .  .  .  Mountains  and 
that  majestic  Virgin  closing  up  all.  .  .  .  By  looking  across  into  a  nook  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Vale  of  Lauterbrunnen,  Jung-frau  presses  forward  and 
seems  to  preside  over  and  give  a  character  to  the  whole  of  the  vale  that 
belongs  only  to  this  one  spot."  .  .  .  "Aug.  10th. — .  .  .  Reached  Grindel- 
wald,  by  the  pass  close  to  Jungfrau  (at  least  separated  from  it  by  a  deep 
cleft  only),  which  sent  forth  its  avalanches, — one  grand  beyond  all  descrip- 
tion. It  was  an  awful  and  a  solemn  sound."  .  .  .  "Aug.  1st. — .  .  .  . 
Nothing  could*  exceed  my  delight  when,  through  an  opening  between  build- 
ings at  the  skirts  of  the  town,  we  unexpectedly  hailed  our  old  and  side-by- 
side  companion,  the  Rhine,  now  roaring  like  a  lion,  along  his  rocky 
channel.  Never  beheld  so  soft,  so  lovely  a  green,  as  is  here  given  to  the 
waters  of  this  lordly  river ;  and  then,  how  they  glittered  and  heaved  to 
meet  the  sunshine. "—  ED. 


LAUD.  69 

And  the  land's  humblest  comforts,     Now  her  mood 
Eecals  the  transformation  of  the  flood, 
Whose  rage  the  gentle  skies  in  vain  reprove, 
Earth  cannot  check.      O  terrible  excess 
Of  headstrong  will !     Can  this  be  Piety  ? 
No — some  fierce  Maniac  hath  usurped  her  name, 
And  scourges  England  struggling  to  be  free : 
Her  peace  destroyed  !  her  hopes  a  wilderness  ! 
Her  blessings  cursed — her  glory  turned  to  shame ! 


XLV. 
LAUD* 

PREJUDGED  by  foes  determined  not  to  spare,1 
An  old  weak  Man  for  vengeance  thrown  aside, 
Laud,2  '  in  the  painful  art  of  dying '  tried, 
(Like  a  poor  bird  entangled  in  a  snare 

1  1827. 

Pursued  by  Hate,  debarred  from  friendly  care  ;       1822. 

2  1827. 

Long,        .......  1822. 

*  See  the  Fen  wick  note  preceding  the  Series. — ED. 

In  this  age  a  word  cannot  be  said  in  praise  of  Laud,  or  even  in  compas- 
sion for  his  fate,  without  incurring  a  charge  of  bigotry ;  but  fearless  of  such 
imputation,  I  concur  with  Hume,  "that  it  is  sufficient  for  his  vindication 
to  observe  that  his  errors  were  the  most  excusable  of  all  those  which 
prevailed  during  that  zealous  period."  A  key  to  the  right  understanding 
of  those  parts  of  his  conduct  that  brought  the  most  odium  upon  him  in  his 
own  time,  may  be  found  in  the  following  passage  of  his  speech  before  the 
bar  of  the  House  of  Peers  : — "  Ever  since  I  came  in  place,  I  have  laboured 
nothing  more  than  that  the  external  publick  worship  of  God,  so  much 
slighted  in  divers  parts  of  this  kingdom,  might  be  preserved,  and  that  with 
as  much  decency  and  uniformity  as  might  be.  For  I  evidently  saw  that 
the  public  neglect  of  God's  service  in  the  outward  face  of  it,  and  the  nasty 
lying  of  many  places  dedicated  to  that  service,  had  almost  cast  a  damp 
upon  the  true  and  inward  worship  of  God,  which,  while  we  live  in  the  body, 
needs  external  helps,  and  all  little  enough  to  keep  it  in  any  vigour. " — W.  W. , 
1827. 


70  AFFLICTIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

Whose  heart  still  flutters,  though  his  wings  forbear 

To  stir  in  useless  struggle)  hath  relied 

On  hope  that  conscious  innocence  supplied,1 

And  in  his  prison  breathes  2  celestial  air. 

Why  tarries  then  thy  chariot  ?  *     Wherefore  stay, 

0  Death  !  the  ensanguined  yet  triumphant  wheels, 

Which  thou  prepar'st,  full  often,  to  convey 

(What  time  a  State  with  madding  faction  reels) 

The  Saint  or  Patriot  to  the  world  that  heals 

All  wounds,  all  perturbations  doth  allay  ? 


XLVL 
AFFLICTIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

HAEP  !  could'st  thou  venture,  on  thy  boldest  string. 

The  faintest  note  to  echo  which  the  blast 

Caught  from  the  hand  of  Moses  as  it  pass'd 

O'er  Sinai's  top,  or  from  the  Shepherd-king, 

Early  awake,  by  Siloa's  brook,  to  sing 

Of  dread  Jehovah ;  then,  should  wood  and  waste 

Hear  also  of  that  Name,  and  mercy  cast 

Off  to  the  mountains,  like  a  covering 

Of  which  the  Lord  was  weary.     Weep,  oh  !  weep, 

Weep  with  the  good,3  beholding  King  and  Priest 

1  1827. 

Laud  relied 

Upon  the  strength  which  Innocence  supplied,          1822. 

X  1827. 

breathed        .        .        .  1822. 

*  1827. 

As  good  men  wept 1822. 

*  In  his  address,  before  his  execution,  Laud  said,  "  I  am  not  in  love  with 
this  passage  through  the  Red  Sea,  and  I  have  prayed  ut  transiret  calix  iste, 
but  if  not,  God's  will  be  done."— ED. 


I  SAW  THE  FIGURE  OF  A  LOVELY  MAID.  71 

Despised  by  that  stern  God  to  whom  they  raise 
Their  suppliant  hands ;  but  holy  is  the  feast 
He  keepeth  ;  like  the  firmament  His  ways  : 
His  statutes  like  the  chambers  of  the  deep.* 


PAET    III. 

[When  I  came  to  this  part  of  the  series  I  had  the  dream  described 
in  this  Sonnet,  t  The  figure  was  that  of  my  daughter,  and  the  whole 
passed  exactly  as  here  represented.  The  Sonnet  was  composed  on  the 
middle  road  leading  from  Grasmere  to  Ambleside  :  it  was  begun  as  I 
left  the  last  house  of  the  vale,  and  finished,  word  for  word  as  it  now 
stands,  before  I  came  in  view  of  Eydal.  I  wish  I  could  say  the  same  of 
the  five  or  six  hundred  I  have  written  :  most  of  them  were  frequently 
retouched  in  the  course  of  composition,  and,  not  a  few,  laboriously. 

I  have  only  further  to  observe  that  the  intended  Church  which 
prompted  these  Sonnets  was  erected  on  Coleorton  Moor  towards  the 
centre  of  a  very  populous  parish  between  three  and  four  miles  from 
Ashby-de-la-Zouch,  on  the  road  to  Loughborough,  and  has  proved,  I 
believe,  a  great  benefit  to  the  neighbourhood.] 

FEOM  THE  EESTOEATION  TO  THE  PEESENT  TIMES. 


I  SAW  the  figure  of  a  lovely  Maid 

Seated  alone  beneath  a  darksome  tree, 

Whose  fondly-overhanging  canopy 

Set  off  her  brightness  with  a  pleasing  shade. 

No  Spirit  was  she ;  that l  my  heart  betrayed  ; 

For  she  was  one  I  loved  exceedingly : 

But  while  I  gazed  in  tender  reverie 

(Or  was  it  sleep  that  with  my  Fancy  played  ?) 

1837. 

Substance  she  seem'd  (and  that        .        .         .          1822. 

*  See  Ps.  xxxvi.  5,  6.— ED. 
t  The  first  of  Part  III.— ED. 


72  PATRIOTIC  SYMPATHIES. 

The  bright  corporeal  presence — form  and  face — 
Eemaining  still  distinct  grew  thin  and  rare, 
Like  sunny  mist ; — at  length  the  golden  hair, 
Shape,  limbs,  and  heavenly  features,  keeping  pace 
Each  with  the  other  in  a  lingering  race 
Of  dissolution,  melted  into  air. 


II. 
PATEIOTIC  SYMPATHIES. 

LAST  night,  without  a  voice,  that  Vision  spake 
Fear  to  my  Soul,  and  sadness  which  might  seem  * 
Wholly  2  dissevered  from  our  present  theme ; 
Yet,  my  beloved  country !  I  partake  3 
Of  kindred  agitations  for  thy  sake  ; 
Thou,  too,  dost  visit  oft 4  my  midnight  dream  ; 
Thy  5  glory  meets  me  with  the  earliest  beam 
Of  light,  which  tells  that  Morning  is  awake. 
If  aught  impair  thy  6  beauty  or  destroy, 
Or  but  forebode  destruction,  I  deplore 

1  1845. 

this  Vision  spake 

Fear  to  my  Spirit — passion  that  might  seem  1822. 

this  Vision  spake 
Fear  to  my  Soul,  and  sadness  that  might  seem 


1827. 


1832. 


1832. 


1832. 


1832. 


To  lie 


Yet  do  I  love  my  country — and  partake 


She  visits  oftentimes 


for  her  sake ; 


Her 


her 


1837. 


1822. 


1822. 


1822. 


1822. 


1822. 


CHARLES  THE  SECOND.  *73 

With  filial  love  the  sad  vicissitude  ; 
If  thou  hast l  fallen,  and  righteous  Heaven  restore 
The  prostrate,  then  my  spring-time  is  renewed, 
And  sorrow  bartered  for  exceeding  joy. 


m. 
CHARLES  THE  SECOND. 

WHO  comes — with  rapture  greeted,  and  caressed 

With  frantic  love — his  kingdom  to  regain  ?  * 

Him  Virtue's  Nurse,  Adversity,  in  vain 

Received,  and  fostered  in  her  iron  breast : 

For  all  she  taught  of  hardiest  and  of  best, 

Or  would  have  taught,  by  discipline  of  pain 

And  long  privation,  now  dissolves  amain, 

Or  is  remembered  only  to  give  zest 

To  wantonness — Away,  Circean  revels  !  t 

But  for  what  gain  ?  if  England  soon  must  sink 

Into  a  gulf  which  all  distinction  levels, 

That  bigotry  may  swallow  the  good  name,2  t 

And,  with  that  draught,  the  life-blood :  misery,  shame, 

By  Poets  loathed ;  from  which  Historians  shrink  ! 

1  1832. 

If  she  hath 1822. 

2  1837. 

Already  stands  our  Country  on  the  brink 

Of  bigot  rage,  that  all  distinction  levels 

Of  truth  and  falsehood,  swallowing  the  good  name,  1822. 

*  "  No  event  ever  marked  a  deeper  or  a  more  lasting  change  in  the  temper 
of  the  English  people,  than  the  entry  of  Charles  the  Second  into  Whitehall. 
With  it  modern  England  begins." — (Green's  history  of  the  English  People, 
Chap.  IX.)— ED. 

t  "  The  Restoration  brought  Charles  to  Whitehall ;  and  in  an  instant  the 
whole  face  of  England  was  changed.  All  that  was  noblest  and  best  in 
Puritanism  was  whirled  away." — (Green.)  The  excesses  of  every  kind  that 
came  in  with  the  Restoration  were  notorious. — ED. 

I  In  1672  the  Duke  of  York  was  publicly  received  into  the  Church  of 
Rome. — ED. 


WALTON'S  BOOK  OF  LIVES. 


IV. 

LATITUDINAKIANISM. 

YET  Truth  is  keenly  sought  for,  and  the  wind 

Charged  with  rich  words  poured  out  in  thought's  defence; 

Whether  the  Church  inspire  that  eloquence,* 

Or  a  Platonic  Piety  confined 

To  the  sole  temple  of  the  inward  mind  ;  t 

And  One  there  is  who  builds  immortal  lays, 

Though  doomed  to  tread  in  solitary  ways,  | 

Darkness  before  and  danger's  voice  behind  ; 

Yet  not  alone,  nor  helpless  to  repel 

Sad  thoughts  ;  for  from  above  the  starry  sphere 

Come  secrets,  whispered  nightly  to  his  ear  ; 

And  the  pure  spirit  of  celestial  light 

Shines  through  his  soul  —  '  that  he  may  see  and  tell 

Of  things  invisible  to  mortal  sight.'  § 


v. 
WALTON'S  BOOK  OF  LIVES.  || 

THERE  are  no  colours  in  the  fairest  sky 

So  fair  as  these.     The  feather,  whence  the  pen 

Was  shaped  that  traced  the  lives  of  these  good  men, 

*  As  in  the  case  of  John  Hales  of  Eton,  William  Chillingworth,  who 
wrote  The  Religion  of  Protestants,  and  Jeremy  Taylor,  author  of  Tlit  Liberty 
of  Prophecy  ing.  —  ED. 

t  The  Cambridge  Platonists,  Ralph  Cudworth,  John  Smith,  and  Henry 
More,  are  referred  to.  —  ED. 

J  Milton.—  ED. 

\  Compare  Paradise  Lost,  Book  iii.,  1.  54-55.  —  ED. 

||  Izaak  Walton,  author  of  The  Complete  Angler,  wrote  also  The  Lives  of 
John  Donne,  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  Richard  Hooker,  George  Herbert,  and 
Robert  Sanderson.  —  ED. 


CLERICAL  INTEGRITY.  75 

Dropped  from  an  Angel's  wing.*     With  moistened  eye 

We  read  of  faith  and  purest  charity 

In  Statesman,  Priest,  and  humble  Citizen. 

0  could  we  copy  their  mild  virtues,  then 

What  joy  to  live,  what  blessedness  to  die ! 

Methinks  their  very  names  shine  still  and  bright ; 

Apart — like  glow-worms  on  a  summer  night ; 

Or  lonely  tapers  when  from  far  they  fling 

A  guiding  ray  ; T  or  seen — like  stars  on  high, 

Satellites  burning  in  a  lucid  ring 

Around  meek  Walton's  heavenly  memory. 

VI. 

CLEEICAL  INTEGEITY. 

NOR  shall  the  eternal  roll  of  praise  reject 
Those  Unconforming ;  whom  one  rigorous  day 
Drives  from  their  Cures,  a  voluntary  prey 
To  poverty,  and  grief,  and  disrespect,! 
And  some  to  want — as  if  by  tempests  wrecked2 

1  1827. 

glow-worms  in  the  woods  of  spring, 
Or  lonely  tapers  shooting  far  a  light 
That  guides  and  cheers, —        .     .   .         .  1822. 

2  1827. 

tempest  wreck'd  1822. 

*  Compare  the  following  with  those  lines  of  Wordsworth— 

"  Whose  noble  praise 

Deserve  a  quill  pluckt  from  an  angel's  wing. " 

(Dorothy  Berry,  in  a  Sonnet  prefixed  to  Diana  Primrose's  Chain  of  Pearl,  a 
memorial  of  the  peerless  graces,  dec.,  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  London,  1639.) 
And  a  still  older  passage — 

"  The  pen  wherewith  thou  dost  so  heavenly  singe, 
Made  of  a  quill  pluckt  from  an  Angell's  winge." 
(Henry  Constable's  Diana,  a  volume  of  Sonnets  published  in  1594). — ED. 

t  By  the  Act  of  Uniformity  (1662),  nearly  2000  Presbyterian  and  In- 
dependent Ministers,  who  had  been  admitted  to  benefices  in  the  Church  of 
England  during  the  Puritan  Ascendancy,  were  ejected  from  their  livings. 

—ED. 


*76         PERSECUTION  OF  THE  SCOTCH  COVENANTERS. 

On  a  wild  coast ;  how  destitute  !  did  they 
Feel  not  that  Conscience  never  can  betray,* 
That  peace  of  inind  is  Virtue's  sure  effect. 
Their  altars  they  forego,  their  homes  they  quit, 
Fields  which  they  love,  and  paths  they  daily  trod, 
And  cast  the  future  upon  Providence ; 
As  men  the  dictate  of  whose  inward  sense 
Outweighs  the  world ;  whom  self -deceiving  wit 
Lures  not  from  what  they  deem  the  cause  of  God. 

VII. 

PERSECUTION  OF  THE  SCOTTISH   COVENANTERS. 

Pub.  1827. 

WHEN  Alpine  Vales  threw  forth  a  suppliant  cry, 
The  majesty  of  England  interposed  t 

And  the  sword  stopped;   the  bleeding  wounds  were  closed ; 
And  Faith  preserved  her  ancient  purity. 
How  little  boots  that  precedent  of  good, 
Scorned  or  forgotten,  Thou  canst  testify, 
For  England's  shame,  0  Sister  Realm  !  from  wood, 
Mountain,  and  moor,  and  crowded  street,  where  lie  J 
The  headless  martyrs  of  the  Covenant, 
Slain  by  Compatriot-protestants  that  draw 
From  councils  senseless  as  intolerant 
Their  warrant.     Bodies  fall  by  wild  sword-law ; 
But  who  would  force  the  Soul,  tilts  with  a  straw 
Against  a  Champion  cased  in  adamant. 

*  The  first  two  words  of  this  line  might,  with  advantage,  be  transposed. 
—ED. 

t  See  Milton's    Sonnet   xviii.,    On    the    recent    massacre    in  Piedmont, 
beginning — 

"Avenge,  0  Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints." 

This  was  in  1655.  In  the  following  year  Cromwell,  to  whom  the  persecuted 
Vaudois  subjects  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy  had  appealed,  interposed  in  their 
behalf.  Nearly  £40,000  were  collected  in  England  for  their  relief.— ED. 

$  Compare  The  Excursion,  Book  L,  1.  176-7.     (Vol.  V.,  p.  31.)— ED. 


ACQUITTAL  OF  THE  BISHOPS.  77 

VIII. 
ACQUITTAL  OF  THE  BISHOPS  * 

A  VOICE,  from  long-expecting l  thousands  sent 

Shatters  the  air,  and  troubles  tower  and  spire  ; 

For  Justice  hath  absolved  the  innocent, 

And  Tyranny  is  balked  of  her  desire : 

Up,  down,  the  busy  Thames — rapid  as  fire 

Coursing  a  train  of  gunpowder — it  went, 

And  transport  finds  in  every  street  a  vent, 

Till  the  whole  City  rings  like  one  vast  quire. 

The  Fathers  urge  the  People  to  be  still, 

With  outstretched  hands  and  earnest  speech 2 — in  vain  ! 

Yea,  many,  happily  wont  to  entertain 

Small  reverence  for  the  mitre's  offices, 

And  to  Eeligion's  self  no  friendly  will, 

A  Prelate's  blessing  ask  on  bended  knees. 

1  1827. 

long-expectant        .        .  1822. 

2  1827. 

VOlCe  .  1822. 


*  The  Bishops  who  protested  against  James  II. 's  Declaration  of  Indul- 
gence, and  refused  to  read  it.  He  ordered  the  Ecclesiastical  Commissioners 
to  deprive  them  of  their  Sees,  and  the  Bishops  were  sent  to  the  Tower. 
"They  passed  to  their  prison  amidst  the  shouts  of  a  great  multitude,  the 
sentinels  knelt  for  their  blessing  as  they  entered  the  gates,  and  the  soldiers 
of  the  garrison  drank  their  healths.  .  .  .  The  Bishops  appeared  as  criminals 
at  the  bar  of  the  King's  Bench.  The  jury  had  been  packed,  the  judges 
were  mere  tools  of  the  Crown,  but  judges  and  jury  were  alike  overawed  by 
the  indignation  of  the  people  at  large.  No  sooner  had  the  foreman  of  the 
jury  uttered  the  words  'Not  guilty,'  than  a  roar  of  applause  burst  from 
the  crowd,  and  horsemen  spurred  along  every  road  to  carry  over  the 
country  the  news  of  the  acquittal." — (Green.)  See  Wordworth's  note  to 
the  eleventh  sonnet  in  Part  I.  (p.  11.) — ED. 


78        OBLIGATIONS  OF  CIVIL  TO  RELIGIOUS  LIBERTY. 

IX. 
WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 

CALM  as  an  under-current,  strong  to  draw 

Millions  of  waves  into  itself,  and  run, 

From  sea  to  sea,  impervious  to  the  sun 

And  ploughing  storm,  the  spirit  of  Nassau  * 

Swerves  not  (how  blest  if  by  religious  awe  l 

Swayed,  and  thereby  enabled  to  contend 

With  the  wide  world's  commotions)  from  its  end 

Swerves  not — diverted  by  a  casual  law. 

Had  mortal  action  e'er  a  nobler  scope  ? 

The  hero  comes  to  liberate,  not  defy ; 

And,  while  he  marches  on  with  stedfast  hope,2 

Conqueror  beloved  !  expected  anxiously  ! 

The  vacillating  Bondman  of  the  Pope  t 

Shrinks  from  the  verdict  of  his  stedfast  eye. 

x. 
OBLIGATIONS  OF  CIVIL  TO  RELIGIOUS  LIBERTY. 

UNGRATEFUL  Country,  if  thou  e'er  forget 
The  sons  who  for  thy  civil  rights  have  bled ! 
How,  like  a  Roman,  Sidney  bowed  his  head,! 

1  1845. 

(By  constant  impulse  of  religious  awe  1822. 

2  1845. 

righteous  hope,  1822. 

*  William  III.  of  Nassau,  Prince  of  Orange,  was  invited  over  to  England 
by  the  nobles  and  commons  who  were  disaffected  towards  James  II.,  and 
landed  at  Torbay  in  Nov.  1688.— ED. 

t  King  James  II.,  who  fled  to  France  in  Dec.  1688. — ED. 

$  Algernon  Sidney,  second  son  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  equally  opposed 
to  the  tyranny  of  Charles  and  of  Cromwell,  was  implicated  in  the  Rye 


SACHEVEREL.  79 

And  Russel's  milder  blood  the  scaffold  wet ;  * 

But  these  had  fallen  for  profitless  regret 

Had  not  thy  holy  Church  her  champions  bred, 

And  claims  from  other  worlds  inspirited 

The  star  of  Liberty  to  rise.     Nor  yet 

(Grave  this  within  thy  heart !)  if  spiritual  things 

Be  lost,  through  apathy,  or  scorn,  or  fear, 

Shalt  thou  thy  humbler  franchises  support, 

However  hardly  won  or  justly  dear : 

What  came  from  heaven  to  heaven  by  nature  clings, 

And,  if  dissevered  thence,  its  course  is  short. 


XL 

SACHEVEREL.  t 

Pub.  1827. 

A  SUDDEN  conflict  rises  from  the  swell 
Of  a  proud  slavery  met  by  tenets  strained 
In  Liberty's  behalf.      Fears,  true  or  feigned, 
Spread  through  all  ranks  ;  and  lo  !  the  Sentinel 
Who  loudest  rang  his  pulpit  'larum  bell 

House  Plot,  arraigned  before  the  chief -justice  Jeffries,  condemned  illegally, 
and  executed  at  Tower  Hill  in  Dec.  1683.— ED. 

*  Lord  William  Russell,  third  son  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  member  of 
the  House  of  Commons  like  Sidney,  and  like  him  implicated  in  the  Rye 
House  Plot,  condemned  at  the  Old  Bailey,  and  beheaded  at  Lincolns'-Inn- 
Fields  in  July  1683.— ED. 

t  Henry  Sacheverel,  a  high-church  clergyman,  preached  two  sermons  in 
1709,  one  at  Derby,  and  the  other  in  St  Paul's  London,  in  which  he 
attacked  the  principles  of  the  Revolution  Settlement,  taught  the  doctrine 
of  non-resistance,  and  decried  the  Act  of  Toleration.  He  was  impeached  by 
the  Commons,  and  tried  before  the  House  of  Lords  in  1710,  was  found  guilty, 
and  suspended  from  office  for  three  years.  This  made  him  for  the  time  the 
most  popular  man  in  England ;  and  the  general  election  which  followed 
was  fatal  to  the  Government  which  condemned  him.  He  was  a  weak  and 
a  vain  man,  who  attained  to  notoriety  without  fame. — ED. 


SO  DOWN    A  SWIFT  STREAM,  THUS  FAR. 

Stands  at  the  Bar,  absolved  by  female  eyes 

Mingling  their  glances  with  grave  ti 

Lavished  on  kim — that  Eiiglaiid  may  rebel , 

Against  her  ancient  virtue,     HIGH  and  1 

Watch-words  of  Party,  on  all  tongues  e. 

As  if  a  Church,  though  sprung  from  heaven,  must  owe 

To  opposites  and  fierce  extremes  hex  life, — 

Not  to  the  golden  mean,  and  quiet  flow 

Of  truths  that  soften  hatred,  temper  strife. 


Pub,  18*7. 

DOWN  a  swift  Stream,  thus  far,  a  bold  design 
Have  we  pursued,  with  livelier  stir  of  heart 
Than  his  who  sees,  borne  forward  by  the  Rhine, 
The  living  landscapes  greet  him,  and  depart ; 
Sees  spires  fast  sinking — up  again  to  start! 
And  strives  the  towers  to  number,  that  recline 
O'er  the  dark  steeps,  or  on  the  horizon  line 
Striding  with  shattered  crests  his  *  eye  athwart 
So  have  we  hurried  on  with  troubled  pleasure : 
Henceforth,  as  on  the  bosom  of  a  stream 
That  slackens,  and  spreads  wide  a  watery  gleam, 
We,  nothing  loth  a  lingering  course  to  measure, 
May  gather  up  our  thoughts,  and  mark  at  leisure 
How  widely  spread  the  interests  of  our  theme.9 


light  with  gimver  flatteries 

tiw        .  MS 


the  extra*  firaa  Jin  aad  Mat  WonbwwHT.  Jowl  ia  fee 
«  Tmr  in  tfct  CMrffcnrf,  (VoL  TL,  p.  209).— E* 


KCTS  OF  (.  \ \\  T Y  IN  AMERICA  8 1 

XIII. 

PECTS  OF  CHRISTIANITY  IN  AMERICA.* 

L THE  PILGKIM  FATHEBS.f 

Pub.  1845. 

WELL  worthy  to  be  magnified  are  they 

Who,  with  sad  hearts,  of  friends  and  country  took 

A  last  farewell,  their  loved  abodes  forsook, 

And  hallowed  ground  in  which  their  fathers  lay ; 

Then  to  the  new-found  World  explored  their  way, 

That  so  a  Church,  unforced,  uncalled  to  brook 

Ritual  restraints,  within  some  sheltering  nook 

Her  Lord  might  worship  and  his  word  obey 

In  freedom.     Men  they  were  who  could  not  bend ; 

Blest  Pilgrims,  surely,  as  they  took  for  guide 

A  will  by  sovereign  Conscience  sanctified ; 

Blest  while  their  Spirits  from  the  woods  ascend 

Along  a  Galaxy  that  knows  no  end, 

But  in  His  glory  who  for  Sinners  died. 


*  In  a  letter  to  Professor  Henry  Reed,  dated  March  1, 1842,  Wordsworth 
wrote: — "I  have  sent  yon  three  sonnets  npon  certain  'Aspects  of 
Christianity  in  America,'  having,  as  yon  will  see,  a  reference  to  the  subject 
upon  which  yon  wished  me  to  write.  I  wish  they  had  been  more  worthy 
of  the  subject :  I  hope,  however,  yon  will  not  disapprove  of  the  connection 
which  I  have  thought  myself  warranted  in  tracing  between  the  Puritan 
fugitives  and  Episcopacy." — ED. 

t  American  episcopacy,  in  union  with  the  church  in  England,  strictly 
belongs  to  the  general  subject ;  and  I  here  make  my  acknowledgments  to 
my  American  friends,  Bishop  Doane,  and  Mr  Henry  Beed  of  Philadelphia, 
for  having  suggested  to  me  the  propriety  of  adverting  to  it,  and  pointed  out 
the  virtues  and  intellectual  qualities  of  Bishop  White,  which  so  eminently 
fitted  him  for  the  great  work  he  undertook.  Bishop  White  was  consecrated 
at  Lambeth,  Feb.  4,  1787,  by  Archbishop  Moore ;  and  before  his  long  life 
was  closed,  twenty-six  bishops  had  been  consecrated  in  America,  by  him- 
self. For  his  character  and  opinions,  see  his  own  numerous  Works,  and  a 
"  Sermon  in  commemoration  of  him,  by  George  Washington  Doane,  Bishop 
of  New  Jersey."— W.  W.,  1845. 

VIL  F 


ASPECTS  OF  CHRISTIANITY  IN  AMERICA. 

XIV. 
II.    CONTINUED. 

Pub.  1845. 

FROM  Rite  and  Ordinance  abused  they  fled 
To  Wilds  where  both  were  utterly  unknown  ; 
But  not  to  them  had  Providence  foreshown 
What  benefits  are  missed,  what  evils  bred, 
In  worship  neither  raised  nor  limited 
Save  by  Self-will.     Lo !  from  that  distant  shore, 
For  Rite  and  Ordinance,  Piety  is  led 
Back  to  the  Land  those  Pilgrims  left  of  yore, 
Led  by  her  own  free  choice.44"     So  Truth  and  Love 
By  Conscience  governed  do  their  steps  retrace. — 
Fathers  !  your  Virtues,  such  the  power  of  grace, 
Their  spirit,  in  your  Children,  thus  approve. 
Transcendent  over  time,  unbound  by  place, 
Concord  and  Charity  in  circles  move. 

xv. 

III.    CONCLUDED. AMERICAN  EPISCOPACY. 

Pub.  1845. 

PATRIOTS  informed  with  Apostolic  light 

Were  they,  who,  when  their  Country  had  been  freed, 

Bowing  with  reverence  to  the  ancient  creed, 

Fixed  on  the  frame  of  England's  Church  their  sight,! 

And  strove  in  filial  love  to  reunite 

What  force  had  severed.      Thence  they  fetched  the  seed 

Of  Christian  unity,  and  won  a  meed 

*  The  Book  of  Common  Prayer  of  the  American  Episcopal  Church  was 
avowedly  derived  from  that  of  England,  and  substantially  agrees  with 
it.— ED. 

t  "  I  hope  you  will  not  disapprove  of  the  connection  which  I  have 
thought  myself  warranted  in  tracing  between  the  Puritan  fugitives  and 
Episcopacy."— (TV.  W.  to  Henry  Reed,  March  1,  1842.)— ED. 


PLACES  OF  WORSHIP.  83 

Of  praise  from  Heaven.     To  Thee,  0  saintly  WHITE,* 
Patriarch  of  a  wide-spreading  family, 
Remotest  lands  and  unborn  times  shall  turn, 
Whether  they  would  restore  or  build — to  Thee, 
As  one  who  rightly  taught  how  zeal  should  burn, 
As  one  who  drew  from  out  Faith's  holiest  urn 
The  purest  stream  of  patient  Energy. 

XVI. 

Pub.  1845. 

BISHOPS  and  Priests,  blessed  are  ye,  if  deep 
(As  yours  above  all  offices  is  high) 
Deep  in  your  hearts  the  sense  of  duty  lie ; 
Charged  as  ye  are  by  Christ  to  feed  and  keep 
From  wolves  your  portion  of  his  chosen  sheep  : 
Labouring  as  ever  in  your  Master's  sight, 
Making  your  hardest  task  your  best  delight, 
What  perfect  glory  ye  in  Heaven  shall  reap ! — 
But,  in  the  solemn  Office  which  ye  sought 
And  undertook  premonished,  if  unsound 
Your  practice  prove,  faithless  though  but  in  thought, 
Bishops  and  Priests,  think  what  a  gulf  profound 
Awaits  you  then,  if  they  were  rightly  taught 
Who  framed  the  Ordinance  by  your  lives  disowned  ! 

XVII. 

PLACES  OF  WORSHIP. 

As  star  that  shines  dependent  upon  star 
Is  to  the  sky  while  we  look  up  in  love ; 


*  Dr  Seabury  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Connecticut  by  Scottish  Bishops 
at  Aberdeen,  in  November  1784.  Dr  White  was  consecrated  Bishop  of 
Penny slvania,  and  Dr  Provoost,  Bishop  of  New  York,  at  Lambeth,  in 
February  1787.  It  was  Wordsworth's  intention,  in  1841,  to  add  a  sonnet 
to  his  Ecclesiastical  Series  '  On  the  union  of  the  two  Episcopal  Churches  of 
England  and  America. ' — ED. 


84  PASTORAL  CHARACTER. 

As  to  the  deep  fair  ships  which  though  they  move 

Seem  fixed,  to  eyes  that  watch  them  from  afar ; 

As  to  the  sandy  desert  fountains  are, 

With  palm-groves  shaded  at  wide  intervals, 

Whose  fruit  around  the  sun-burnt  Native  falls 

Of  roving  tired  or  desultory  war — 

Such  to  this  British  Isle  her  Christian  Fanes, 

Each  linked  to  each  for  kindred  services ; 

Her  Spires,  her  Steeple-towers  with  glittering  vanes  * 

Far-kenned,  her  Chapels  lurking  among  trees, 

Where  a  few  villagers  on  bended  knees 

Find  solace  which  a  busy  world  disdains. 


XVIII. 

PASTORAL  CHARACTER. 

A  GENIAL  hearth,  a  hospitable  board, 
And  a  refined  rusticity,  belong! 


*  Compare  The  Excursion,  Book  VI.,  1.  17-29  (Vol.  V.,  p.  242.)— ED. 

•f  Among  the  benefits  arising,  as  Mr  Coleridge  has  well  observed,  from  a 
Church  Establishment  of  endowments  corresponding  with  the  wealth  of  the 
country  to  which  it  belongs,  may  be  reckoned  as  eminently  important,  the 
examples  of  civility  and  refinement  which  the  Clergy,  stationed  at  intervals, 
afford  to  the  whole  people.  The  established  clergy  in  many  parts  of 
England  have  long  been,  as  they  continue  to  be,  the  principal  bulwark 
against  barbarism,  and  the  link  which  unites  the  sequestered  peasantry 
with  the  intellectual  advancement  of  the  age.  Nor  is  it  below  the  dignity 
of  the  subject  to  observe,  that  their  taste,  as  acting  upon  rural  residences 
and  scenery  often  furnishes  models  which  country  gentlemen,  who  are  more 
at  liberty  to  follow  the  caprices  of  fashion,  might  profit  by.  The  precincts 
of  an  old  residence  must  be  treated  by  ecclesiastics  with  respect,  both  from 
prudence  and  necessity.  I  remember  being  much  pleased,  some  years  ago, 
at  Rose  Castle,  the  rural  seat  of  the  See  of  Carlisle,  with  a  style  of  garden 
and  architecture,  which,  if  the  place  had  belonged  to  a  wealthy  layman, 
would  no  doubt  have  been  swept  away.  A  parsonage-house  generally 
stands  not  far  from  the  church ;  this  proximity  imposes  favourable 
restraints,  and  sometimes  suggests  an  affecting  union  of  the  accommoda- 
tions and  elegancies  of  life  with  the  outward  signs  of  piety  and  mortality. 


THE  LITURGY.  85 

To  the  neat  mansion,  where,  his  flock  among, 
The  learned  Pastor  dwells,  their  watchful  lord.  * 
Though  meek  and  patient  as  a  sheathed  sword ; 
Though  pride's  least  lurking  thought  appear  a  wrong 
To  human  kind ;  though  peace  be  on  his  tongue, 
Gentleness  in  his  heart ;  can  earth  afford 
Such  genuine  state,  pre-eminence  so  free, 
As  when,  arrayed  in  Christ's  authority, 
He  from  the  pulpit  lifts  his  awful  hand ; 
Conjures,  implores,  and  labours  all  he  can 
For  re-subjecting  to  divine  command 
The  stubborn  spirit  of  rebellious  man  ? 


XIX. 

THE  LITUEGY. 

YES,  if  the  intensities  of  hope  and  fear 
Attract  us  still,  and  passionate  exercise 
Of  lofty  thoughts,  the  way  before  us  lies 
Distinct  with  signs,  through  which  in  set  career,1 
As  through  a  zodiac,  moves  the  ritual  yeart 

1  1837. 

."....    fixed  career,  1822. 

With  pleasure  I  recal  to  mind  a  happy  instance  of  this  in  the  residence  of 
an  old  and  much-valued  Friend  in  Oxfordshire.  The  house  and  church 
stand  parallel  to  each  other,  at  a  small  distance  ;  a  circular  lawn  or  rather 
grass-plot,  spreads  between  them ;  shrubs  and  trees  curve  from  each  side 
of  the  dwelling,  veiling,  but  not  hiding,  the  church.  From  the  front  of 
this  dwelling,  no  part  of  the  burial-ground  is  seen  ;  but  as  you  wind  by  the 
side  of  the  shrubs  towards  the  steeple-end  of  the  church,  the  eye  catches  a 
single,  small,  low,  monumental  head-stone,  moss-grown,  sinking  into,  and 
gently  inclining  towards  the  earth.  Advance,  and  the  churchyard, 
populous  and  gay  with  glittering  tombstones,  opens  upon  the  view.  This 
humble,  and  beautiful  parsonage  called  forth  a  tribute,  for  which  see  the 
seventh  of  the  "  Miscellaneous  Sonnets,"  Part  3.— W.  W.  1822. 

*  Compare  the  sonnet,  On  the  sight  of  a  Manse  in  the  South  of  Scotland, 
belonging  to  the  Tour  in  the  year  1831. — ED. 

t  Compare  the  Christian  Year  by  Keble,  passim. — ED. 


86  BAPTISM. 

Of  England's  Church  ;  stupendous  mysteries  ! 
Which,  whoso  travels  in  her  bosom,  eyes, 
As  he  approaches  them,  with  solemn  cheer. 
Upon  that  circle  traced  from  sacred  story 
We  only  dare  to  cast  a  transient  glance, 
Trusting  in  hope  that  others  may  advance 
With  mind  intent  upon  the  King  of  Glory,1 
From  his  mild  Advent  till  his  Countenance 
Shall  dissipate  the  seas  and  mountains  hoary.* 

xx. 
BAPTISM. 

Pub.  1827. 

DEAR2  be  the  Church,  that,  watching  o'er  the  needs 
Of  Infancy,  provides  a  timely  shower 
Whose  virtue  changes  to  a  Christian  Flower 
A  Growth  from  sinful  Nature's  bed  of  weeds  ! — 3 
Fitliest  beneath  the  sacred  roof  proceeds 
The  ministration ;  while  parental  Love 
Looks  on,  and  Grace  descendeth  from  above 
As  the  high  service  pledges  now,  now  pleads. 
There,  should  vain  thoughts  outspread  their  wings  and  fly 
To  meet  the  coming  hours  of  festal  mirth, 
The  tombs — which  hear  and  answer  that  brief  cry, 
The  Infant's  notice  of  his  second  birth — 
Eecal  the  wandering  Soul  to  sympathy 
With  what  man  hopes  from  Heaven,  yet  fears  from  Earth. 

1  1845. 

Enough  for  us  to  cast  a  transient  glance 

The  circle  through  ;  relinquishing  its  story 

For  those  whom  Heaven  hath  fitted  to  advance 

And,  harp  in  hand,  rehearse  the  King  of  Glory —    1822. 

2  1845. 

Blest  1827. 


1832. 


The  sinful  product  of  a  bed  of  weeds  !  1827. 

*  See  Revelation  xx.  11. — ED. 


CATECHISING.  87 


XXI. 

SPONSOKS. 

Pub.  1832. 

FATHER  !  to  God  himself  we  cannot  give 
A  holier  name  !  then  lightly  do  not  bear 
Both  names  conjoined,  but  of  thy  spiritual  care 
Be  duly  mindful :  still  more  sensitive 
Do  thou,  in  truth  a  second  Mother,  strive 
Against  disheartening  custom,  that  by  thee 
Watched,  and  with  love  and  pious  industry 
Tended  at  need,  the  adopted  Plant  may  thrive 
For  everlasting  bloom.      Benign  and  pure 
This  Ordinance,  whether  loss  it  would  supply, 
Prevent  omission,  help  deficiency, 
Or  seek  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure. 
Shame  if  the  consecrated  Vow  be  found 
An  idle  form,  the  Word  an  empty  sound  ! 


xxn. 
CATECHISING. 

FROM  little  down  to  least,  in  due  degree, 
Around  the  Pastor,  each  in  new-wrought  vest, 
Each  with  a  vernal  posy  at  his  breast, 
We  stood,  a  trembling,  earnest  Company ! 
With  low  soft  murmur,  like  a  distant  bee, 
Some  spake,  by  thought-perplexing  fears  betrayed  ; 
And  some  a  bold  unerring  answer  made : 
How  fluttered  then  thy  anxious  heart  for  me, 
Beloved  Mother  !     Thou  whose  happy  hand 
Had  bound  the  flowers  I  wore,  with  faithful  tie : 


88  CONFIRMATION. 

Sweet  flowers  !  at  whose  inaudible  command 
Her  countenance,  phantom-like,  doth  re-appear : 
0  lost  too  early  for  the  frequent  tear, 
And  ill  requited  by  this  heartfelt  sigh  ! 

XXIII. 

CONFIRMATION. 

Pub.  1827. 

THE  Young-ones  gathered  in  from  hill  and  dale, 
With  holiday  delight  on  every  brow  : 
'Tis  passed  away  ;  far  other  thoughts  prevail ; 
For  they  are  taking  the  baptismal  Vow 
Upon  their  conscious  selves  ;  their  own  lips  speak 
The  solemn  promise.     Strongest  sinews  fail, 
And  many  a  blooming,  many  a  lovely,  cheek 
Under  the  holy  fear  of  God  turns  pale ; 
While  on  each  head  his  lawn-robed  Servant  lays 
An  apostolic  hand,  and  with  prayer  seals 
The  Covenant.     The  Omnipotent  will  raise 
Their  feeble  Souls ;  and  bear  with  his  regrets, 
'Who,  looking  round  the  fair  assemblage,  feels 
That  ere  the  Sun  goes  down  their  childhood  sets. 


XXIV. 

CONFIRMATION  CONTINUED. 

I  SAW  a  Mother's  eye  intensely  bent 
Upon  a  Maiden  trembling  as  she  knelt ; 
In  and  for  whom  the  pious  Mother  felt 
Things  that  we  judge  of  by  a  light  too  faint : 
Tell,  if  ye  may,  some  star-crowned  Muse,  or  Saint ! 
Tell  what  rushed  in,  from  what  she  was  reli'eved, 
Then,  when  her  Child  the  hallowing  touch  received, 


SACRAMENT.  89 

And  such  vibration  through1  the  Mother  went 

That  tears  burst  forth  amain.     Did  gleams  appear  ? 

Opened  a  vision  of  that  blissful  place 

Where  dwells  a  Sister-child  ?     And  was  power  given 

Part  of  her  lost  One's  glory  back  to  trace 

Even  to  this  Eite  ?     For  thus  She  knelt,  and,  ere 

The  summer-leaf  had  faded,  passed  to  Heaven.* 

XXV. 

SACEAMENT. 

Pub.  1827. 

BY  chain  yet  stronger  must  the  Soul  be  tied  : 
One  duty  more,  last  stage  of  this  ascent,2 
Brings  to  thy  food,  mysterious  Sacrament3 
The  Offspring,  haply  at  the  Parent's  side ; 
But  not  till  They,  with  all  that  do  abide 
In  Heaven,  have  lifted  up  their  hearts  to  laud 
And  magnify  the  glorious  name  of  God, 
Fountain  of  grace,  whose  Son  for  sinners  died. 
Ye,  who  have  duly  weighed  the  summons,  pause 
No  longer;  ye,4  whom  to  the  saving  rite 
The  Altar  calls ;  come  early  under  laws 
That  can  secure  for  you  a  path  of  light ' 
Through  gloomiest  shade ;  put  on  (nor  dread  its  weight) 
Armour  divine,  and  conquer  in  your  cause ! 

1  1837. 

to  .  .  1827. 

2  1827. 

last  stage  to  this  ascent.         Coieorton  MS. 

3  1845. 

.     memorial  Sacrament !  1827. 

4  1845. 

Here  must  my  song  in  timid  reverence  pause  : 

But  shrink  not  ye 1827' 


*  Compare  the  tribute  to  a  Daughter,  who  died  within  the  year  after  her 
confirmation,  in  A  Presbyterian  Clergyman  looking  for  the  Church,  by  Rev. 
Flavel  S.  Mines,  p.  95.— ED. 


90  THANKSGIVING  AFTER  CHILDBIRTH. 

XXVI. 
THE  MAEEIAGE  CEREMONY.* 

Comp.  1842.     Pub.  1845. 

THE  Vested  Priest  before  the  Altar  stands ; 

Approach,  come  gladly,  ye  prepared,  in  sight 

Of  God  and  chosen  friends,  your  troth  to  plight 

With  the  symbolic  ring,  and  willing  hands 

Solemnly  joined.      Now  sanctify  the  bands, 

O  Father  ! — to  the  espoused  thy  blessing  give, 

That  mutually  assisted  they  may  live 

Obedient,  as  here  taught,  to  thy  commands. 

So  prays  the  Church,  to  consecrate  a  Vow 

"  The  which  would  endless  matrimony  make  ; " 

Union  that  shadows  forth  and  doth  partake 

A  mystery  potent  human  love  to  endow 

With  heavenly,  each  more  prized  for  the  other's  sake ; 

Weep  not,  meek  Bride !  uplift  thy  timid  brow. 


XXVII. 

THANKSGIVING  AFTER  CHILDBIRTH. 
Comp.  1842.     Pub.  1845. 

WOMAN  !  the  Power  who  left  his  throne  on  high, 
And  deigned  to  wear  the  robe  of  flesh  we  wear, 

*  In  a  letter  to  Professor  Henry  Reed,  dated  '  Rydal  Mount,  Sept.  4, 
1842,'  Wordsworth  says :  "  A  few  days  ago,  after  a  very  long  interval,  I 
returned  to  poetical  composition  ;  and  my  first  employment  was  to  write  a 
couple  of  Sonnets  upon  subjects  recommended  by  you  to  take  place  in  the 
Ecclesiastical  Series.  They  are  upon  the  Marriage  Ceremony  and  the 
Funeral  Service.  I  have,  about  the  same  time,  added  two  others,  both 
upon  subjects  taken  from  the  Services  of  our  Liturgy." — ED. 


VISITATION  OF  THE  SICK.  91 

The  Power  that  thro'  the  straits  of  Infancy 

Did  pass  dependent  on  maternal  care, 

His  own  humanity  with  Thee  will  share, 

Pleased  with  the  thanks  that  in  his  People's  eye 

Thou  offerest  up  for  safe  Delivery 

From  Childbirth's  perilous  throes.     And  should  the  Heir 

Of  thy  fond  hopes  hereafter  walk  inclined 

To  courses  fit  to  make  a  mother  rue 

That  ever  he  was  born,  a  glance  of  mind 

Cast  upon  this  observance  may  renew 

A  better  will ;  and,  in  the  imagined  view 

Of  thee  thus  kneeling,  safety  he  may  find. 


XXVIII. 

VISITATION  OF  THE  SICK. 

Comp.  1842.     Pub.  1845. 

THE  Sabbath  bells  renew  the  inviting  peal ; 
Glad  music !  yet  there  be  that,  worn  with  pain 
And  sickness,  listen  where  they  long  have  lain, 
In  sadness  listen.     With  maternal  zeal 
Inspired,  the  Church  sends  ministers  to  kneel 
Beside  the  afflicted ;  to  sustain  with  prayer, 
And  soothe  the  heart  confession  hath  laid  bare — 
That  pardon,  from  God's  throne,  may  set  its  seal 
On  a  true  Penitent.     When  breath  departs 
From  one  disburthened  so,  so  comforted, 
His  Spirit  Angels  greet ;  and  ours  be  hope 
That,  if  the  Sufferer  rise  from  his  sick-bed, 
Hence  he  will  gain  a  firmer  mind,  to  cope 
With  a  bad  world,  and  foil  the  Tempter's  arts. 


92  FORMS  OF  PRAYER  AT  SEA. 

XXIX. 

THE  COMMINATION  SERVICE. 

Pub.  1845. 

SHUN  not  this  Rite,  neglected,  yea  abhorred 
By  some  of  unreflecting  mind,  as  calling 
Man  to  curse  man, — thought  monstrous  and  appalling. 
Go  thou  and  hear  the  threatenings  of  the  LORD  ; 
Listening  within  his  Temple  see  his  sword 
Unsheathed  in  wrath  to  strike  the  offender's  head, 
Thy  own,  if  sorrow  for  thy  sin  be  dead, 
Guilt  unrepented,  pardon  unimplored. 
Two  aspects  bears  Truth  needful  for  salvation ; 
Who  knows  not  that  ? — yet  would  this  delicate  age 
Look  only  on  the  Gospel's  brighter  page : 
Let  light  and  dark  duly  our  thoughts  employ ; 
So  shall  the  fearful  words  of  Commination 
Yield  timely  fruit  of  peace  and  love  and  joy. 

xxx. 
FORMS  OE  PRAYER  AT  SEA. 

Pub.  1845. 

To  kneeling  worshippers  no  earthly  floor 
Gives  holier  invitation  than  the  deck 
Of  a  storm-shattered  vessel  saved  from  wreck 
(When  all  that  man  could  do  availed  no  more) 
By  Him  who  raised  the  tempest  and  restrains. 
Happy  the  crew  who  this  have  felt,  and  pour 
Forth  for  His  mercy,  as  the  Church  ordains, 
Solemn  thanksgiving.      Nor  will  they  implore 
In  vain  who,  for  a  rightful  cause,  give  breath 
To  words  the  Church  prescribes  aiding  the  lip 
For  the  heart's  sake,  ere  ship  with  hostile  ship 


RURAL  CEREMONY.  93 

Encounters,  armed  for  work  of  pain  and  death. 
Suppliants !  the  God  to  whom  your  cause  ye  trust 
Will  listen,  and  ye  know  that  He  is  just. 


xxxr. 
FUNERAL  SERVICE. 

Comp.  1842.        —    Pub.  1845. 
EKOM  the  Baptismal  hour,  thro'  weal  and  woe, 
The  Church  extends  her  care  to  thought  and  deed ; 
Nor  quits  the  Body  when  the  Soul  is  freed, 
The  mortal  weight  cast  off  to  be  laid  low. 
Blest  Rite  for  him  who  hears  in  faith,  "  I  know 
That  my  Redeemer  liveth," — hears  each  word 
That  follows — striking  on  some  kindred  chord 
Deep  in  the  thankful  heart ; — yet  tears  will  flow. 
Man  is  as  grass  that  springeth  up  at  morn, 
Grows  green,  and  is  cut  down  and  withereth  i 
Ere  nightfall — truth  that  well  may  claim  a  sigh, 
Its  natural  echo ;  but  hope  comes  reborn 
At  JESU'S  bidding.     We  rejoice  :  "  0  Death, 
Where  is  thy  Sting  ? — 0  Grave,  where  is  thy  Victory  ? " 


XXXII. 

RURAL  CEREMONY* 

CLOSING  the  sacred  Book  which  long  has  fed 
Our  meditations,1  give  we  to  a  day 

1  1845. 

With  smiles  each  happy  face  was  overspread, 

That  trial  ended 1822. 

*  This  is  still  continued  in  many  churches  in  Westmoreland.  It  takes 
place  in  the  month  of  July,  when  the  floor  of  the  stalls  is  strewn  with 
fresh  rushes  ;  and  hence  it  is  called  the  "  Rush  -bearing. " — W.  W.,  1822. 


94  REGRETS. 

Of  annual l  joy  one  tributary  lay  ; 

This 2  day,  when,  forth  by  rustic  music  led, 

The  village  Children,  while  the  sky  is  red 

With  evening  lights,  advance  in  long  array 

Through  the  still  church-yard,  each  with  garland  gay, 

That,  carried  sceptre-like,  o'ertops  the  head 

Of  the  proud  Bearer.     To  the  wide  church-door, 

Charged  with  these  offerings  which  their  fathers  bore 

For  decoration  in  the  Papal  time, 

The  innocent  Procession  softly  moves : — 

The  spirit  of  Laud  is  pleased  in  heaven's  pure  clime, 

And  Hooker's  voice  the  spectacle  approves ! 


XXXIII. 

KEGRETS. 

WOULD  that  our  scrupulous  Sires  had  dared  to  leave 

Less  scanty  measure  of  those  graceful  rites 

And  usages,  whose  due  return  invites 

A  stir  of  mind  too  natural  to  deceive ; 

Giving  to  3  Memory  help  when  she  would  weave 

A  crown  for  Hope ! — I  dread  the  boasted  lights 

That  all  too  often  are  but  fiery  blights, 

Killing  the  bud  o'er  which  in  vain  we  grieve. 

Go,  seek,  when  Christmas  snows  discomfort  bring, 

The  counter  Spirit  found  in  some  gay  church 

Content  with  calmer  scenes  around  us  spread 

And  humbler  objects,         ....  1827. 

1  1827. 

Of  festal 1822. 

2  1827. 

That  .  1822. 

3  1845. 

Giving  the        ......  1S22. 


OLD  ABBEYS.  95 

Green  with  fresh  holly,  every  pew  a  perch 
In  which  the  linnet  or  the  thrush  might  sing, 
Merry  and  loud  and  safe  from  prying  search, 
Strains  offered  only  to  the  genial  Spring. 


xxxiv. 
MUTABILITY. 

FKOM  low  to  high  doth  dissolution  climb, 

And  sink1  from  high  to  low,  along  a  scale 

Of  awful  notes,  whose  concord  shall  not  fail ; 

A  musical  but  melancholy  chime, 

Which  they  can  hear  who  meddle  not  with  crime, 

Nor  avarice,  nor  over- anxious  care. 

Truth  fails  not ;  but  her  outward  forms  that  bear 

The  longest  date  do  melt  like  frosty  rime, 

That  in  the  morning  whitened  hill  and  plain 

And  is  no  more ;  drop  like  the  tower  sublime 

Of  yesterday,  which  royally  did  wear 

His1  crown  of  weeds,  but  could  not  even  sustain 

Some  casual  shout  that  broke  the  silent  air, 

Or  the  unimaginable  touch  of  Time. 


xxxv. 
OLD  ABBEYS. 

MONASTIC  Domes  !  following  my  downward  way, 
Untouched  by  due  regret  I  marked  your  fall ! 
Now,  ruin,  beauty,  ancient  stillness,  all 
Dispose  to  judgments  temperate  as  we  lay 

1  1843. 

And  sinks        ......  1822. 

2  1837. 

Its  1822. 


96  EMIGRANT  FRENCH  CLERGY. 

On  our  past  selves  in  life's  declining  day : 
For  as,  by  discipline  of  Time  made  wise, 
We  learn  to  tolerate  the  infirmities 
And  faults  of  others — gently  as  he  may,1 
So  with2  our  own  the  mild  Instructor  deals, 
Teaching  us  to  forget  them  or  forgive.* 
Perversely  curious,  then,  for  hidden  ill 
Why  should  we  break  Time's  charitable  seals  ? 
Once  ye  were  holy,  ye  are  holy  still ; 
Your  spirit  freely  let  me  drink,  and  live ! 


xxxvi. 

EMIGRANT  FRENCH  CLERGY. 

Pub.  1827. 

EVEN  while  I  speak,  the  sacred  roofs  of  France 
Are  shattered  into  dust ;  and  self -exiled 
From  altars  threatened,  levelled,  or  defiled, 
Wander  the  Ministers  of  God,  as  chance 
Opens  a  way  for  life,  or  consonance 
Of  faith  invites.      More  welcome  to  no  land 
The  fugitives  than  to  the  British  strand, 
Where  priest  and  layman  with  the  vigilance 
Of  true  compassion  greet  them.     Creed  and  test 
Vanish  before  the  unreserved  embrace 
Of  catholic  humanity  : — distrest 
They  came, — and,  while  the  moral  tempest  roars 

1  1822. 

.     — so,  where'er  he  may  1337. 

The  edition  of  1845  returns  to  the  text  of  1822. 

2  183T. 

Towards 1822. 

*  This  is  borrowed  from  an  affecting  passage  in  Mr  George  Dyer's  history 
of  Cambridge.— W.  W.,  1822. 


NEW  CHURCHES.  97 

Throughout  the  Country  they  have  left,  our  shores 
Give  to  their  Faith  a  fearless1  resting-place. 

XXXVII. 

CONGRATULATION. 

THUS  all  things  lead  to  Charity,  secured 
By  them  who  blessed  the  soft  and  happy  gale 
That  landward  urged  the  great  Deliverer's  sail,* 
.     Till  in  the  sunny  bay  his  fleet  was  moored ! 
Propitious  hour !  had  we,  like  them,  endured 
Sore  stress  of  apprehension,!  with  a  mind 
Sickened  by  injuries,  dreading  worse  designed, 
From  month  to  month  trembling  and  unassured, 
How  had  we  then  rejoiced !     But  we  have  felt, 
As  a  loved  substance,  their  futurity : 
Good,  which  they  dared  not  hope  for,  we  have  seen  ; 
A  State  whose  generous  will  through  earth  is  dealt ; 
A  State — which,  balancing  herself  between 
License  and  slavish  order,  dares  be  free. 

XXXVIIL 
NEW  CHURCHES. 

Bur  liberty,  and  triumphs  on  the  Main, 
And  laurelled  armies,  not  to  be  withstood — 
What  serve  they  ?  if,  on  transitory  good 
Intent,  and  sedulous  of  abject  gain, 
The  State  (ah,  surely  not  preserved  in  vain  !) 

1  1837. 

dreadless        .        .  1827. 

*  The  statesmen  of  the  Revolution,  who  hailed  the  arrival  of  William 
of  Orange  from  Holland. — ED. 

t  See  Burnet,  who  is  unusually  animated  on  this  subject ;  the  east  wind, 
so  anxiously  expected  and  prayed  for,  was  called  the  "Protestant  wind." 
— W.  W.,  1822. 

VII.  G 


98  CHURCH  TO  BE  ERECTED. 

Forbear  to  shape  due  channels  which  the  Flood 

Of  sacred  truth  may  enter — till  it  brood 

O'er  the  wide  realm,  as  o'er  the  Egyptian  plain 

The  all-sustaining  Nile.     No  more — the  time 

Is  conscious  of  her  want ;  through  England's  bounds, 

In  rival  haste,  the  wished-f or  Temples  rise  !  * 

I  hear  the  Sabbath  bells'  harmonious  chime 

Float  on  the  breeze — the  heavenliest  of  all  sounds 

That  vale  or  hill1  prolongs  or  multiplies  ! 

xxxix. 
CHURCH  TO  BE  ERECTED.! 

BE  this  the  chosen  site  ;  the  virgin  sod, 
Moistened  from  age  to  age  by  dewy  eve, 
Shall  disappear,  and  grateful  earth  receive 
The  corner-stone  from  hands  that  build  to  God. 
Yon  reverend  hawthorns,  hardened  to  the  rod 
Of  winter  storms,  yet  budding  cheerfully ; 
Those  forest  oaks  of  Druid  memory, 
Shall  long  survive,  to  shelter  the  Abode 
Of  genuine  Faith.     Where,  haply,  'mid  this  band 
Of  daisies,  shepherds  sate  of  yore  and  wove 
Mayrgarlands,  there  let2  the  holy  altar  stand 
For  kneeling  adoration  ; — while — above, 
Broods,  visibly  portrayed,  the  mystic  Dove, 
That  shall  protect  from  blasphemy  the  Land. 

1  1837. 

That  hill  or  vale 1822. 

2  1843. 

May-garlands,  let        ....  1822. 

*  In  1818,  under  the  ministry  of  Lord  Liverpool,  £1,000,000  were  voted 
by  Parliament  to  build  new  churches  in  England.  — ED. 

t  This,  and  the  two  following  sonnets,  were  probably  the  first  composed 
of  these  Ecclesiastical  Sketches.  The  "church  to  be  erected"  was  a  new 
church  built  on  Coleorton  Moor  by  Sir  George  Beaumont.  (See  Prefatory 
note  to  the  series,  p.  1.) — ED. 


NEW  CHURCH- YARD.  99 

XL. 

CONTINUED. 

MINE  ear  has  rung,  my  spirit1  sunk  subdued, 
Sharing  the  strong  emotion  of  the  crowd, 
When  each  pale  brow  to  dread  hosannas  bowed 
While  clouds  of  incense  mounting  veiled  the  rood. 
That  glimmered  like  a  pine-tree  dimly  viewed 
Through  Alpine  vapours.     Such  appalling  rite 
Our  Church  prepares  not,  trusting  to  the  might 
Of  simple  truth  with  grace  divine  imbued ; 
Yet  will  we  not  conceal  the  precious  Cross, 
Like  men  ashamed  :*  the  Sun  with  his  first  smile 
Shall  greet  that  symbol  crowning  the  low  Pile : 
And  the  fresh  air  of  incense-breathing  mornt 
Shall  wooingly  embrace  it ;  and  green  moss 
Creep  round  its  arms  through  centuries  unborn. 

XLI. 

NEW  CHUECH-YAED. 

THE  encircling  ground,  in  native  turf  arrayed, 
Is  now  by  solemn  consecration  given 
To  social  interests,  and  to  favouring  Heaven ; 
And  where  the  rugged  colts  their  gambols  played, 
And  wild  deer  bounded  through  the  forest  glade, 

1  1827. 

spirits          .        .  1822. 

*  The  Lutherans  have  retained  the  Cross  within  their  churches :  it  is  to 
be  regretted  that  we  have  not  done  the  same.— W.  W.,  1822.  It  has 
always  been  retained  without,  and  is  now  scarcely  less  common  within  the 
churches  of  England.  Did  the  poet  confound  the  Cross  with  the  Crucifix  ? 
—ED. 

t  Compare  Gray's  Elegy,  stanza  5 — 

"  The  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing  morn."  —ED. 


10.0  CATHEDRALS,  ETC. 

Unchecked  as  when  by  merry  Outlaw  driven, 
Shall  hymns  of  praise  resound  at  morn  and  even  ; 
And  soon,  full  soon,  the  lonely  Sexton's  spade 
Shall  wound  the  tender  sod.     Encincture  small, 
But  infinite  its  grasp  of  weal  and  woe  I1 
Hopes,  fears,  in  never-ending  ebb  and  flow  ; — 
The  spousal  trembling,  and  the  'dust  to  dust,' 
The  prayers,  the  contrite  struggle,  and  the  trust 
That  to  the  Almighty  Father  looks  through  all. 


XLII. 

CATHEDEALS,  ETC. 

OPEN  your  gates,  ye  everlasting  Piles ! 

Types  of  the  spiritual  Church  which  God  hath  reared ; 

Not  loth  we  quit  the  newly-hallowed  sward 

And  humble  altar,  'mid  your  sumptuous  aisles 

To  kneel,  .or  thrid  your  intricate  denies, 

Or  down  the  nave  to  pace  in  motion  slow  ; 

Watching,  with  upward  eye,2  the  tall  tower  grow 

And  mount,  at  every  step,  with  living  wiles 

Instinct — to  rouse  the  heart  and  lead  the  will 

By  a  bright  ladder  to  the  world  above. 

Open  your  gates,  ye  Monuments  of  love 

Divine  !    Thou,  Lincoln,  on  thy  sovereign  hill ! 

Thou,  stately  York !  and  Ye,  whose  splendours  cheer 

Isis  and  Cam,  to  patient  Science  dear ! 


1832. 

joy  and  woe !  1322. 

1827. 

eyes,        .        .  1822. 


INSIDE  OF  KING'S  COLLEGE  CHAPEL,  CAMBRIDGE.     101 


XLIII. 

INSIDE  OF  KING'S  COLLEGE  CHAPEL, 
CAMBEIDGE. 

TAX  not  the  royal  Saint  *  with  vain  expense, 

With  ill-matched  aims  the  Architect  who  planned — 

Albeit  labouring  for  a  scanty  band 

Of  white-robed  Scholars  only — this  immense 

And  glorious  Work  of  fine  intelligence ! 

Give  all  thou  canst ;  high  Heaven  rejects  the  lore 

Of  nicely-calculated  less  or  more ; 

So  deemed  the  man  who  fashioned  for  the  sense 

These  lofty  pillars,  spread  that  branching  roof 

Self-poised,  and  scooped  into  ten  thousand  cells, 

Where  light  and  shade  repose,  where  music  dwells 

Lingering,  and  wandering  on  as  loth  to  die ; 

Like  thoughts  whose  very  sweetness  yieldeth  proof 

That  they  were  born  for  immortality. 


XLIV. 
THE  SAME. 

WHAT  awful  perspective  !  while  from  our  sight 
With  gradual  stealth  the  lateral  windows  hide 
Their  Portraitures,  their  stone-work  glimmers,  dyed 
In l  the  soft  chequerings  of  a  sleepy  light. 
Martyr,  or  King,  or  sainted  Eremite, 
Whoe'er  ye  be,  that  thus,  yourselves  unseen, 

1  1827. 

Their  portraiture  the  lateral  windows  hide 
Glimmers  their  corresponding  stone- work,  dyed 
With 1822. 

*  King  Henry  VI.,  who  founded  King's  College,  Cambridge.— ED. 


102  EJACULATION. 

Imbue  your  prison-bars  with  solemn  sheen, 
Shine  on,  until  ye  fade  with  coming  Night ! — 
But,  from  the  arms  of  silence — list !   0  list ! 
The  music  bursteth  into  second  life ; 
The  notes  luxuriate,  every  stone  is  kissed 
By  sound,  or  ghost  of  sound,  in  mazy  strife ; 
Heart-trilling  strains,  that  cast,  before  the  eye 
Of  the  devout,  a  veil  of  ecstasy ! 


XLV. 
CONTINUED. 

THEY  dreamt  not  of  a  perishable  home 
Who  thus  could  build.     Be  mine,  in  hours  of  fear 
Or  grovelling  thought,  to  seek  a  refuge  here ; 
Or  through  the  aisles  of  Westminster  to  roam ; 
Where  bubbles  burst,  and  folly's  dancing  foam 
Melts,  if  it  cross  the  threshold ;  where  the  wreath 
Of  awe-struck  wisdom  droops :  or  let  my  path 
Lead  to  that  younger  Pile,  whose  sky-like  dome  * 
Hath  typified  by  reach  of  daring  art 
Infinity's  embrace ;  whose  guardian  crest, 
The  silent  Cross,  among  the  stars  shall  spread 
As  now,  when  She  hath  also  seen  her  breast 
Filled  with  mementos,  satiate  with  its  part 
Of  grateful  England's  overflowing  Dead. 


XLVI. 

EJACULATION. 

GLORY  to  GOD  !  and  to  the  POWER  who  came 
In  filial  duty,  clothed  with  love  divine, 
*  St  Paul's  Cathedral,  built  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren  (1675-1710).— ED. 


CONCLUSION.  103 

That  made  his  human  tabernacle  shine 

Like  Ocean  burning  with  purpureal  flame ; 

Or  like  the  Alpine  Mount,  that  takes  its  name 

From  roseate  hues,*  far  kenned  at  morn  and  even, 

In  hours  of  peace,  or  when  the  storm  is  driven 

Along  the  nether  region's  rugged  frame ! 

Earth  prompts — Heaven  urges ;  let  us  seek  the  light, 

Studious  of  that  pure  intercourse  begun 

When  first  our  infant  brows  their  lustre  won ; 

So,  like  the  Mountain,  may  we  grow  more  bright 

From  unimpeded  commerce  with  the  Sun, 

At  the  approach  of  all-involving  night. 


XLVII. 
CONCLUSION. 

WHY  sleeps  the  future,  as  a  snake  enrolled, 

Coil  within  coil,  at  noon-tide  ?     For  the  WORD 

Yields,  if  with  unpresumptuous  faith  explored, 

Power  at  whose  touch  the  sluggard  shall  unfold 

His  drowsy  rings.    Look  forth! — THAT  STREAM  behold, 

That  Stream  upon  whose  bosom  we  have  passed 

Floating  at  ease  while  nations  have  effaced 

Nations,  and  Death  has  gathered  to  his  fold 

Long  lines  of  mighty  Kings — look  forth,  my  Soul ! 

(Nor  in  this1  vision  be  thou  slow  to  trust). 

The  living  Waters,  less  and  less  by  guilt 

Stained  and  polluted,  brighten  as  they  roll, 

Till  they  have  reached  the  eternal  City — built 

For  the  perfected  Spirits  of  the  just ! 

11827, 

(Nor  in  that 1822. 

*  Some  say  that  Monte  Rosa  takes  its  name  from  a  belt  of  rock  at  its 
summit— a  very  unpoetical  and  scarcely  a  probable  supposition. — W.  W., 
1822. 


104  MEMORY. 


1823. 

Only  three  Poems  and  two  Sonnets  were  written  in  1823.  The 
former  include  the  Stanzas  to  Memory,  and  those  addressed  To  the 
Lady  Fleming,  on  seeing  the  Foundation  preparing  for  the  erection  of 
Rydal  Chapel,  Westmoreland. 

MEMOEY. 
Cbmp.  1823.    Pub.  1827. 

A  PEN — to  register ;  a  key — 
That  winds  through  secret  wards  \ 
Are  well  assigned  to  Memory 
By  allegoric  Bards. 

As  aptly,  also,  might  be  given 

A  Pencil  to  her  hand ; 

That,  softening  objects,  sometimes  even 

Outstrips  the  heart's  demand  ; 

That  smoothes  foregone  distress,  the  lines 
Of  lingering  care  subdues, 
Long-vanished  happiness  refines, 
And  clothes  in  brighter  hues  ; 

Yet,  like  a  tool  of  Fancy,  works 
Those  Spectres  to  dilate 
That  startle  Conscience,  as  she  lurks 
Within  her  lonely  seat. 

0  !  that  our  lives,  which  flee  so  fast, 
In  purity  were  such, 
That  not  an  image  of  the  past 
Should  fear  that  pencil's  touch  ! 

Eetirement  then  might  hourly  look 
Upon  a  soothing  scene, 


TO  THE  LADY  FLEMING.  105 

Age  steal  to  his  allotted  nook 
Contented  and  serene ; 

With  heart  as  calm  as  lakes  that  sleep, 
In  frosty  moonlight  glistening ; 
Or  mountain  rivers,  where  they  creep 
Along  a  channel  smooth  and  deep, 
To  their  own  far-off  murmurs  listening. 

For  the  circumstances  which  gave  rise  to  this  poem,  see  the  Fenwick 
note  to  the  lines,  Written  in  a  Blank  Leaf  of  Macphersoris  Ossian,  in 
the  Scottish  tour  of  1833.— ED. 


TO  THE  LADY  FLEMING,1 

ON   SEEING   THE   FOUNDATION   PREPARING   FOR   THE   ERECTION   OF 
RYDAL   CHAPEL,2  WESTMORELAND. 

Comp.  1823.    Pub.  1827. 

[After  thanking  Lady  Fleming  in  prose  for  the  service  she  had  done 
to  her  neighbourhood  by  erecting  this  Chapel,  I  have  nothing  to  say 
beyond  the  expression  of  regret  that  the  architect  did  not  furnish  an 
elevation  better  suited  to  the  site  in  a  narrow  mountain-pass,  and, 
what  is  of  more  consequence,  better  constructed  in  the  interior  for  the 
purposes  of  worship.  It  has  no  chancel ;  the  altar  is  unbecomingly 
confined;  the  pews  are  so  narrow  as  to  preclude  the  possibility  of 
kneeling  with  comfort ;  there  is  no  vestry ;  and  what  ought  to  have 
been  first  mentioned,  the  font,  instead  of  standing  at  its  proper  place 
at  the  entrance,  is  thrust  into  the  farther  end  of  a  pew.  When  these 
defects  shall  be  pointed  out  to  the  munificent  Patroness,  they  will,  it 
is  hoped,  be  corrected.*] 

I. 

BLEST  is  this  Isle — our  native  Land ; 
Where  battlement  and  moated  gate 
Are  objects  only  for  the  hand 
Of  hoary  Time  to  decorate ; 

1  1843. 

To  the  Lady 1827. 

2  1843. 

Of Chapel, 1827. 

*  Rydal  Chapel  remained  in  the  state  mentioned  in  the  Fenwick  note  till 
the  year  1884.— ED. 


106  TO  THE  LADY  FLEMING. 

Where  shady  hamlet,  town  that  breathes 
Its  busy  smoke  in  social  wreaths, 
No  rampart's  stern  defence  require, 
Nought  but  the  heaven-directed  spire, 
And  steeple  tower l  (with  pealing  bells 
Far-heard) — our  only  citadels. 


II. 

O  Lady !  from  a  noble  line 
Of  chieftains  sprung,*  who  stoutly  bore 
The  spear,  yet  gave  to  works  divine 
A  bounteous  help  in  days  of  yore, 
(As  records  mouldering  in  the  Dell 
Of  Nightshade  t  haply  yet  may  tell ;) 
Thee  kindred  aspirations  moved 
To  build,  within  a  vale  beloved, 
For  Him  upon  whose  high  behests 
All  peace  depends,  all  safety  rests. 


m.J 

How  fondly  will  the  woods  embrace 
This  daughter  of  thy  pious  care, 

1  1827. 

Or  steeple  tower         ...  MS.  Letter  to  Lady  Beaumont. 

*  The  Fleming  family  is  descended  from  Sir  Michael  le  Fleming,  a 
relative  of  Baldwin,  Earl  of  Flanders,  a  brother-in-law  of  William  the 
Conqueror.  This  Sir  Michael  le  Fleming,  who  came  over  with  the  Con- 
queror, was  sent  into  Cumberland  against  the  Scots,  and  was  rewarded  for 
his  services  by  the  gift  of  several  manors  in  Copeland,  Cumberland. — ED. 

t  Bekangs  Ghyll — or  the  dell  of  Nightshade — in  which  stands  St  Mary's 
Abbey  in  Low  Furness.— W.  W.,  1827. 

t  In  the  edition  of  1827,  the  stanzas  in.  and  iv.  are  numbered  rv.  and 
in.  respectively. — ED. 


TO  THE  LADY  FLEMING.  107 

Lifting  her l  front  with  modest  grace 
To  make  a  fair  recess  more  fair ; 
And  to  exalt  the  passing  hour; 
Or  soothe  it  with  a  healing  power 
Drawn  from  the  Sacrifice  fulfilled 
Before  this  rugged  soil  was  tilled, 
Or  human  habitation  rose 
To  interrupt  the  deep  repose !  * 


IV. 

Well  may  the  villagers  rejoice ! 
Nor  heat,  nor  cold,  nor  weary  ways, 
Will  be  a  hindrance  to  the  voice 
That  would  unite  in  prayer  and  praise ; 
More  duly  shall  wild  wandering  Youth 
Receive  the  curb  of  sacred  truth, 
Shall  tottering  Age,  bent  earthward,  hear 
The  Promise,  with  uplifted  ear ; 
And  all  shall  welcome  the  new  ray 
Imparted  to  their  sabbath-day. 

v. 

NOT  deem  the  Poet's  hope  misplaced, 
His  fancy  cheated — that  can  see 
A  shade  upon  the  future  cast, 
Of  time's  pathetic  sanctity ; 

1  1832. 

Even  strangers,  slackening  here  their  pace, 

Shall  hail  this  woi*k  of  pious  care, 

Lifting  its 1827. 

Compare  Glen-Almain — 

A  convent,  even  a  hermit's  cell, 
Would  break  the  silence  of  this  Dell. 

—Vol.  II.,  p.  342.-ED. 


108  TO  THE  LADY  FLEMING. 

Can  hear  the  monitory  clock 
Sound  o'er  the  lake  with  gentle  shock1 
At  evening,*  when  the  ground  beneath 
Is  ruffled  o'er  with  cells  of  death ; 
Where  happy  generations  lie, 
Here  tutored  for  eternity. 

VI. 

Lives  there  a  man  whose  sole  delights 
Are  trivial  pomp  and  city  noise, 
Hardening  a  heart  that  loathes  or  slights 
What  every  natural  heart  enjoys  ? 
Who  never  caught  a  noon-tide  dream 
From  murmur  of  a  running  stream ; 
Could  strip,  for  aught  the  prospect  yields 
To  him,  their  verdure  from  the  fields  ; 
And  take  the  radiance  from  the  clouds 
In  which  the  sun  his  setting  shrouds,  t 


VII. 

A  soul  so  pitiably  forlorn, 
If  such  do  on  this  earth  abide, 
May  season  apathy  ^ith  scorn, 
May  turn  indifference  to  pride ; 

1832. 

Not  yet  the  corner  stone  is  laid 

With  solemn  rite  ;  but  fancy  sees 

The  tower  time-stricken,  and  in  shade 

Embosomed  of  coeval  trees  ; 

Hears,  o'er  the  lake,  the  warning  clock 

As  it  shall  sound  with  gentle  shock  1827. 

*  Compare  the  last  stanza  of  The  Wishing  Gate. — ED. 
t  Compare  the  Ode  on  Immortality,  xi. — ED. 


TO  THE  LADY  FLEMING.  109 

And  still  be  not  unblest — compared 
With  him  who  grovels,  self-debarred l 
From  all  that  lies  within  the  scope 
Of  holy  faith  and  Christian  hope ; 
Or,  shipwrecked,  kindles  on  the  coast 
False  fires,  that  others  may  be  lost.2 

VIII. 

Alas !  that  such  perverted  zeal 

Should  spread  on  Britain's  favoured  ground ! 8 

That  public  order,  private  weal, 

Should  e'er  have  felt  or  feared  a  wound 

From  champions  of  the  desperate  law 

Which  from  their  own  blind  hearts  they  draw;4 

Who  tempt  their  reason  to  deny 

God,  whom  their  passions  dare  defy,5 

And  boast  that  they  alone  are  free 

Who  reach  this  dire  extremity ! 

IX. 

But  turn  we  from  these  '  bold  bad  '  men ; 
The  way,  mild  Lady  !  that  hath  led 
Down  to  their  '  dark  opprobrious  den,' 

1827. 

With  one  who  fosters  disregard.        MS.  Letter  to  Lady  Beaumont. 

1827. 

Yea,  strives  for  others  to  bedim 

The  glorious  light  too  pure  for  him.  1832. 

1845  returns  to  text  of  1827. 
1827. 

on  Britain's  happy  ground. 

MS  Letter  to  Lady  Beaumont. 

1827. 

From  Scoffers  leagued  in  desperate  plot 

To  make  their  own  the  general  lot.    MS.  Letter  to  Lady  Beaumont. 

1827. 

passions  do  deny.         MS.  Letter  to  Lady  Beaumont. 


110  ON  THE  SAME  OCCASION. 

Is  all  too  rough  for  Thee  to  tread. 
Softly  as  morning  vapours  glide 
Down  Rydal-cove  from  Fairfield's  side,1 
Should  move  the  tenor  of  his  song 
Who  means  to  charity  no  wrong ; 
Whose  offering  gladly  would  accord 
With  this  day's  work,  in  thought  and  word 


Heaven  prosper  it !  may  peace,  and  love, 
And  hope,  and  consolation,  fall, 
Through  its  meek  influence,  from  above, 
And  penetrate  the  hearts  of  all ; 
All  who,  around  the  hallowed  Fane, 
Shall  sojourn  in  this  fair  domain ; 
Grateful  to  Thee,  while  service  pure, 
And  ancient  ordinance,  shall  endure, 
For  opportunity  bestowed 
To  kneel  together,  and  adore  their  God ! 


ON  THE  SAME  OCCASION. 
Comp.  1823.     Pub.  1827. 

Oh  !  gather  whencesoe'er  ye  safely  may 
The  help  which  slackening  Piety  requires  ; 
Nor  deem  that  he  perforce  must  go  astray 
Who  treads  upon  the  footmarks  of  his  sires. 

Our  churches,  invariably  perhaps,  stand  east  and  west,  but  why  is 
by  few  persons  exactly  known  ;  nor,  that  the  degree  of  deviation  from 
due  east  often  noticeable  in  the  ancient  ones  was  determined,  in  each 

1  1832. 

Through  Eydal  Cove  from  Fairfield's  side.      MS.  Letter  to  Lady 

Beaumont. 

Through  Mosedale-Cove  from  Carrock's  side,  1827. 


ON  THE  SAME  OCCASION.  Ill 

particular  case,  by  the  point  in  the  horizon,  at  which  the  sun  rose 
upon  the  day  of  the  saint  to  whom  the  church  was  dedicated.  *  These 
observances  of  our  ancestors,  and  the  causes  of  them,  are  the  subject 
of  the  following  stanzas. 

WHEN  in  the  antique  age  of  bow  and  spear 
And  feudal  rapine  clothed  with  iron  mail, 
Came  ministers  of  peace,  intent  to  rear 
The  Mother  Church  in  yon  sequestered  vale ;  f 

Then,  to  her  Patron  Saint  a  previous  rite 
Eesounded  with  deep  swell  and  solemn  close, 
Through  unremitting  vigils  of  the  night, 
Till  from  his  couch  the  wished-for  Sun  uprose. 

He  rose,  and  straight — as  by  divine  command, 
They,  who  had  waited  for  that  sign  to  trace 
Their  work's  foundation,  gave  with  careful  hand 
To  the  high  altar  its  determined  place ; 

Mindful  of  Him  who  in  the  Orient  born 
There  lived,  and  on  the  cross  his  life  resigned, 
And  who,  from  out  the  regions  of  the  morn, 
Issuing  in  pomp,  shall  come  to  judge  mankind. 

So  taught  their  creed ; — nor  failed  the  eastern  sky, 
'Mid  these  more  awful  feelings,  to  infuse 
The  sweet  and  natural  hopes  that  shall  not  die, 
Long  as  the  sun  his  gladsome  course  renews. 


*  St  Oswald's  Day  is  the  8th  of  August  in  the  Calendar.  — ED. 

t  Doubtless  Grasmere  Church,  (itself  originally  a  chapelry  under 
Kendal),  the  advowson  of  which  was  sold  in  1573  to  the  Le  Flemings  of 
Rydal.  The  date  of  the  foundation  is  prehistoric.  There  is  a  thirteenth 
century  window  in  it,  but  the  tower  is  older.  The  church  is  dedicated 
to  St  Oswald,  King  of  Northumbria.— ED. 


112  NOT  LOVE,  NOT  WAR,  NOR  THE  TUMULTOUS  SWELL. 

For  us  hath  such  prelusive  vigil  ceased ; 

Yet  still  we  plant,  like  men  of  elder  days 

Our  Christian  altar  faithful  to  the  east, 

Whence  the  tall  window  drinks  the  morning  rays ; 

That  obvious  emblem  giving  to  the  eye 
Of  meek  devotion,  which  erewhile  it  gave, 
That  symbol  of  the  day-spring  from  on  high, 
Triumphant  o'er  the  darkness  of  the  grave. 


Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

Love,  not 1  War,  nor  the  tumultuous  swell 
Of  civil  conflict,  nor  the  wrecks  of  change, 
Nor  Duty  struggling  with  afflictions  strange — 
Not  these  alone  inspire  the  tuneful  shell ; 
But  where  untroubled  peace  and  concord  dwell, 
There  also  is  the  Muse  not  loth  to  range, 
Watching  the  twilight  smoke  of  cot  or  grange,2 
Skyward  ascending  from  a  woody  dell.3 
Meek  aspirations  please  her,  lone  endeavour, 
And  sage  content,  and  placid  melancholy ; 
She  loves  to  gaze  upon  a  crystal  river — 
Diaphanous  because  it  travels  slowly ; 
Soft  is  the  music  that  would  charm  for  ever ; 
The  flower  of  sweetest  smell  is  shy  and  lowly. 

1  1832. 

nor 1823. 

2  1837. 

Watching  the  blue  smoke  of  the  elmy  grange,         1823. 

3  1837. 

from  the  twilight  dell.        1323. 

*  Compare  Tintern  Abbey,  1.  17-18.— ED. 
t  E.g.,  The  Rothay,  or  the  Duddon.— ED. 


A  VOLANT  TRIBE  OF  BARDS  ON  EARTH  ARE  FOUND.    113 

Comp.  1827.     Pub.  1827. 

A  VOLANT  Tribe  of  Bards  on  earth  are  found, 
Who,  while  the  flattering  Zephyrs  round  them  play, 
On  '  coignes  of  vantage '  *  hang  their  nests  of  clay ; 
How  quickly  from  that  aery  hold  unbound,1 
Dust  for  oblivion !     To  the  solid  ground 
Of  nature  trusts  the  Mind  that  builds  for  aye 
Convinced  that  there,  there  only,  she  can  lay 
Secure  foundations.     As  the  year  runs  round, 
Apart  she  toils  within  the  chosen  ring  ; 
While  the  stars  shine,  or  while  day's  purple  eye 
Is  gently  closing  with  the  flowers  of  spring ; 
Where  even  the  motion  of  an  Angel's  wing 
Would  interrupt  the  intense  tranquillity 
Of  silent  hills,  and  more  than  silent  sky.f 

1  182V. 

nests  of  clay, 

Work  cunningly  devised,  and  seeming  sound  ; 

But  quickly  from  its  airy  hold  unbound 

By  its  own  weight,  or  washed,  or  blown  away 

With  silent  imperceptible  decay. 

If  man  must  build,  admit  him  to  thy  ground, 

O  Truth  !  to  work  within  the  eternal  ring, 

Where  the  stars  shine        .        .        .  MS.,  1832. 

*  Macbeth,  Act  L,  Sc.  6.— ED. 

t  Compare  Alexander  Hume's  Day  Eslival  (1599).  This  and  the  preced- 
ing Sonnet  were  first  published  in  1823  in  "A  Collection  of  Poems,  chiefly 
manuscript,  and  from  living  authors,  edited  for  the  benefit  of  a  Friend," 
by  Joanna  Baillie.  The  collection  includes  Sir  Walter  Scott's  Macdujf's 
Cross,  and  Southey's  Lodore. — ED. 


VII 


114  TO 


1824. 

The  poems  written  in  1824  were  few.  They  include  two  addressed 
to  Mrs  Wordsworth,  two  or  three  composed  at  Coleorton,  and  a  couple 
of  memorial  sonnets  suggested  during  a  tour  in  North  Wales. 

TO  - 

JL  \-J  • 

Comp.  1824.    Pub.  1827. 

[Written  at  Kydal  Mount.     On  Mrs  Wordsworth.] 

LET  other  bards  of  angels  sing, 

Bright  suns  without  a  spot ; 
But  thou  art  no  such  perfect  thing : 

Rejoice  that  thou  art  not ! 1 

Heed  not  tho'  none  should  call  thee  fair ; 2 

So,  Mary,  let  it  be 
If  nought  in  loveliness  compare 

With  what  thou  art  to  me. 

True  beauty  4we^s  in  deep  retreats, 

Whose  veil  is  unremoved 
Till  heart  with  heart  in  concord  beats, 

And  the  lover  is  beloved. 

• 

Comp.  1824.    Pub.  1827. 

[Written  at  Eydal  Mount.    To  Mrs  W.] 

0  DEARER  far  than  light  and  life  are  dear, 
Full  oft  our  human  foresight  I  deplore ; 

1  Such  if  thou  wert  in  all  men's  view, 

A  universal  show, 
What  would  my  fancy  have  to  do 

My  feelings  to  bestow  ?     Additional  stanza  (Second)  in  edd.  1827-43. 

2  1832. 

The  world  denies  that  thou  art  fair ;  1327. 


HOW  RICH  THAT  FOREHEAD'S  CALM  EXPANSE.      115 

Trembling,  through  my  unworthiness,  with  fear 
That  friends,  by  death  disjoined,  may  meet  no  more ! 

Misgivings,  hard  to  vanquish  or  control, 
Mix  with  the  day,  and  cross  the  hour  of  rest ; 
While  all  the  future,  for  thy  purer  soul, 
With  '  sober  certainties '  of  love  is  blest. 

That  sigh  of  thine,1  not  meant  for  human  ear, 
Tells  2  that  these  words  thy  humbleness  offend ; 
Yet  bear  me  up  3 — else  faltering  in  the  rear 
Of  a  steep  march :  support 4  me  to  the  end. 

Peace  settles  where  the  intellect  is  meek, 

And  Love  is  dutiful  in  thought  and  deed ; 

Through  Thee  communion  with  that  Love  I  seek : 

The  faith  Heaven  strengthens  where  he  moulds  the  Creed. 

Comp.  1824.     Pub.  1827. 

[Written  at  Rydal  Mount.  Mrs  Wordsworth's  impression  is  that 
the  Poem  was  written  at  Coleorton :  it  was  certainly  suggested  by  a 
Print  at  Coleorton  Hall.] 

How  rich  that  forehead's  calm  expanse ! 
How  bright  that  heaven-directed  glance  ! 
— Waft  her  to  glory,  winged  Powers, 
Ere  sorrow  be  renewed, 
And  intercourse  with  mortal  hours 
Bring  back  a  humbler  mood ! 

1  1836. 

If  a  faint  sigh,  .......        1827. 

2  1836. 

Tell   . 1827. 

3  1836. 

Cherish  me  still— 1827. 

*  1836. 

uphold       ....         1827 


116  TO . 

So  looked  Cecilia  when  she  drew 
An  Angel  from  his  station ;  * 
So  looked ;  not  ceasing  to  pursue 
Her  tuneful  adoration ! 

But  hand  and  voice  alike  are  still ; 

No  sound  here  sweeps  away  the  will 

That  gave  it  birth :  in  service  meek 

One  upright  arm  sustains  the  cheek, 

And  one  across  the  bosom  lies — 

That  rose,  and  now  forgets  to  rise, 

Subdued  by  breathless  harmonies 

Of  meditative  feeling ; 

Mute  strains  from  worlds  beyond  the  skies, 

Through  the  pure  light  of  female  eyes, 

Their  sanctity  revealing ! 


TO . 

Comp.  1824.    Pub.  1827. 

[Written  at  Bydal  Mount.     Prompted  by  the  undue  importance 
attached  to  personal  beauty  by  some  dear  friends  of  mine.] 

LOOK  at  the  fate  of  summer  flowers, 

Which  blow  at  daybreak,  droop  ere  even-song ;  t 

*  Compare  Dry  den's  Ode  to  St  Cecilia,  or  Alexander's  Feast — 
"  He  "  (Timotheus)  "raised  a  mortal  to  the  skies." 
"  She  "  (Cecilia)  "  drew  an  angel  down."  — ED. 

f  Compare  Robert  Herrick's  poem  To  Daffodils — 
"  Fair  daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 

You  haste  away  so  soon  ;  , 

As  yet  the  early  rising  sun 
Has  not  attained  his  noon. 

Stay,  stay, 
Until  the  hasting  day 

Has  run 

But  to  the  even-song,"  &c. 
See  also  his  poem  To  Blossoms. — ED. 


TO .  117 

And,  grieved  for  their  brief  date,  confess  that  ours, 
Measured  by  what  we  are  and  ought  to  be, 
Measured  by  all  that,  trembling,  we  foresee, 
Is  not  so  long ! 

If  human  Life  do  pass  away, 
Perishing  yet  more  swiftly  than  the  flower, 
If  we  are  creatures  of  a  winter's  day ; x 
What  space  hath  Virgin's  beauty  to  disclose 
Her  sweets,  and  triumph  o'er  the  breathing  rose  ? 
Not  even  an  hour ! 


The  deepest  grove  whose  foliage  hid 
The  happiest  lovers  Arcady  might  boast 
Could  not  the  entrance  of  this  thought  forbid : 
0  be  thou  wise  as  they,  soul-gifted  Maid ! 
Nor  rate  too  high  what  must  so  quickly  fade, 
So  soon  be  lost 

Then  shall  love  teach  some  virtuous  Youth 
'  To  draw,  out  of  the  object  of  his  eyes/ 
The  while 2  on  thee  they  gaze  in  simple  truth, 
Hues  more  exalted,  '  a  refined  Form,' 
That  dreads  not  age,  nor  suffers  from  the  worm, 
And  never  dies. 

1836. 

Whose  frail  existence  is  but  of  a  day ;  182T. 

1836. 

The  whilst  1827. 


118  A  FLOWER  GARDEN. 

A  FLOWER  GARDEN, 

AT  COLEORTON  HALL,  LEICESTERSHIRE.1 

Comp.  1824.    Pub.  1827. 

[Planned  by  my  friend,  Lady  Beaumont,  in  connection  with  the 
garden  at  Coleorton.] 

TELL  me,  ye  Zephyrs  !  that  unfold, 

While  fluttering  o'er  this  gay  Recess,* 

Pinions  that  fanned  the  teeming  mould 

Of  Eden's  blissful  wilderness, 

Did  only  softly-stealing  hours 

There  close  the  peaceful  lives  of  flowers  ? 

Say,  when  the  moving  creatures  saw 
All  kinds  commingled  without  fear, 
Prevailed  a  like  indulgent  law 
For  the  still  growths  that  prosper  here  ? 
Did  wanton  fawn  and  kid  forbear 
The  half-blown  rose,  the  lily  spare  ? 

Or  peeped  they  often  from  their  beds 
And  prematurely  disappeared, 
Devoured  like  pleasure  ere  it  spreads 
A  bosom  to  the  sun  endeared  ? 
If  such  their  harsh  untimely  doom, 
It  falls  not  here  on  bud  or  bloom. 

All  summer-long  the  happy  Eve 

Of  this  fair  Spot  her  flowers  may  bind, 

Nor  e'er,  with  ruffled  fancy,  grieve, 

1  1836. 

A  flower  garden.  1827.. 

*  The  flower  garden  was  constructed  below  the  terrace  to  the  east  of  the 
Hall.— ED. 


A  FLOWER  GARDEN.  119 

From  the  next  glance  she  casts,  to  find 
That  love  for  little  things  by  Fate 
Is  rendered  vain  as  love  for  great. 

Yet,  where  the  guardian  fence  is  wound, 
So  subtly  are  our  eyes  beguiled 
We  see  not  nor  suspect  a  bound,1 
2STo  more  than  in  some  forest  wild ; 
The  sight  is  free  as  air — or  crost 2 
Only  by  art  in  nature  lost. 

And,  though  the  jealous  turf  refuse  3 
By  random  footsteps  to  be  prest, 
And  feed  4  on  never-sullied  dews, 
Ye,  gentle  breezes  from  the  west, 
With  all  the  ministers  of  hope 
Are  tempted  to  this  sunny  slope ! 

And  hither  throngs  of  birds  resort ; 
Some,  inmates  lodged  in  shady  nests, 
Some,  perched  on  stems  of  stately  port 
That  nod  to  welcome  transient  guests ; 
While  hare  and  leveret,  seen  at  play, 
Appear  not  more  shut  out  than  they. 

1  1836. 

So  subtly  is  the  eye  beguiled 

It  sees  not  nor  suspects  a  bound.  1827. 

MS.  copy  sent  by  Mrs  Wordsworth  to 
Lady  Beaumont. 

1  1836. 

Free  as  the  light  in  semblance  crost.  1827. 

MS.  copy  sent  by  Mrs  Wordsworth  to 
Lady  Beaumont. 

*1827. 

What  though  the  jealous  turf        .        .        .  1827. 

MS.  copy  sent  by  Mrs  Wordsworth  to 
Lady  Beaumont. 

4  1836. 

And  feeds  1827. 


120    TO  THE  LADY  E.  B.  AND  THE  HON.  MISS  P. 

Apt  emblem  (for  reproof  of  pride) 
This  delicate  Enclosure  shows 
Of  modest  kindness,  that  would  hide 
The  firm  protection  she  bestows ; 
Of  manners,  like  its  viewless  fence, 
Ensuring  peace  to  innocence. 

Thus  spake  the  moral  Muse — her  wing 
Abruptly  spreading  to  depart, 
She  left  that  farewell  offering,1 
Memento  for  some  docile  heart ; 
That  may  respect  the  good  old  age 
When  Fancy  was  Truth's  willing  Page ; 
And  Truth  would  skim  the  flowery  glade, 
Though  entering  but  as  Fancy's  Shade. 

In  a  letter  from  Mrs  Wordsworth  to  Lady  Beaumont,  dated  "  Kydal 
Mount,  Feb.  28"  (1824),  the  following  occurs  : — 

"  This  garden  is  made  out  of  Lady  Caroline  Price's,  and  your  own, 
combining  the  recommendations  of  both.  Like  you,  I  enjoy  the 
beauty  of  flowers,  but  do  not  carry  my  admiration  so  far  as  my  sister, 
not  to  feel  how  very  troublesome  they  are.  I  have  more  pleasure  in 
clearing  away  thickets,  and  making  such  arrangements  as  produced 
the  Winter  Garden,  and  these  sweet  glades  behind  Coleorton  Church." 
—ED. 


TO  THE  LADY  E.  B.  AND  THE  HOK  MISS  P. 

Composed  in  the  Grounds  of  Plass  Newidd,*  near  Llangollen,  1824. 
Comp.  1824.     Pub.  1827. 

[In  this  Vale  of  Meditation  my  friend  Jones  resided,  having  been 
allowed  by  his  diocesan  to  fix  himself  there  without  resigning  his  Living 
in  Oxfordshire.  He  was  with  my  wife  and  daughter  and  me  when  we 

1  1827.  .        this  farewell  offering 

MS.  copy  sent  by  Mrs  Wordsworth  to 
Lady  Beaumont. 

*  Plass  Newidd  is  close  to  Llangollen,  a  small  cottage  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
to  the  south  of  the  town.  The  ladies  referred  to  in  the  Fenwick  note, 
Lady  Eleanor  Butler  and  the  Hon.  Miss  Ponsonby,  formed  a  romantic 


TO  THE  LADY  E.  B.  AND  THE  HON.  MISS  P.    121 

visited  these  celebrated  ladies  who  had  retired,  as  one  may  say,  into 
notice  in  this  vale.  Their  cottage  lay  directly  in  the  road  between 
London  and  Dublin,  and  they  were  of  course  visited  by  their  Irish 
friends  as  well  as  innumerable  strangers.  They  took  much  delight  in 
passing  jokes  on  our  friend  Jones's  plumpness,  ruddy  cheeks  and 
smiling  countenance,  as  little  suited  to  a  hermit  living  in  the  Vale  of 
Meditation.  We  all  thought  there  was  ample  room  for  retort  on  his 
part,  so  curious  was  the  appearance  of  these  ladies,  so  elaborately 
sentimental  about  themselves  and  their  Caro  Albergo  as  they  named  it 
in  an  inscription  on  a  tree  that  stood  opposite,  the  endearing  epithet 
being  preceded  by  the  word  Ecco  !  calling  upon  the  saunterer  to  look 
about  him.  So  oddly  was  one  of  these  ladies  attired  that  we  took  her,  at 
a  little  distance,  for  a  Eoman  Catholic  priest,  with  a  crucifix  and  relics 
hung  at  his  neck.  They  were  without  caps,  their  hair  bushy  and 
white  as  snow,  which  contributed  to  the  mistake.] 

A  STREAM,  to  mingle  with  your  favourite  Dee, 

Along  the  VALE  OF  MEDITATION  *  flows ; 

So  styled  by  those  fierce  Britons,  pleased  to  see 

In  Nature's  face  the  expression  of  repose  ; 

Or  haply  there  some  pious  hermit  chose 

To  live  and  die,  the  peace  of  heaven  his  aim ; 

To  whom  the  wild  sequestered  region  owes, 

At  this  late  day,  its  sanctifying  name. 

GLYN  CAFAILLGAROCH,  in  the  Cambrian  tongue, 

In  ours,  the  VALE  OF  FRIENDSHIP,  let  this  spot 

attachment ;  and,  having  an  extreme  love  of  independence,  they  withdrew 
from  society,  and  settled  in  this  remote  and  secluded  cottage.  Lady 
Butler  died  hi  1829,  aged  ninety,  and  Miss  Ponsonby  hi  1831,  aged  seventy- 
six,  their  faithful  servant,  Mary  Caroll,  having  predeceased  them.  The 
three  are  buried  in  the  same  grave  in  Llangollen  Churchyard,  and  an 
inscription  to  the  memory  of  each  is  carved  on  a  triangular  pillar  beside 
their  tomb. 

In  a  letter  to  Sir  George  Beaumont  from  Hindwell,  Radnorshire,  Words- 
worth gives  an  account  of  this  tour  in  North  Wales  ...  "  We  turned 
from  the  high  road  three  or  four  miles  to  visit  the  '  Valley  of  Meditation,' 
(Glyn  Mavyr)  where  Mr  Jones  has,  at  present,  a  curacy  with  a  comfortable 
parsonage.  We  slept  at  Corwen,  and  went  down  the  Dee  to  Llangollen, 
which  you  and  dear  Lady  B.  know  well.  Called  upon  the  celebrated 
Recluses,  who  hoped  that  you  and  Lady  B.  had  not  forgotten  them.  .  .  . 
Next  day  I  sent  them  the  following  sonnet  from  Ruthin,  which  was 
conceived,  and  hi  a  great  measure  composed,  in  their  grounds." — ED. 

*  (ilyn  Myrvr.— W.W. 


122        TO  THE  TORRENT  AT  THE  DEVIL'S  BRIDGE. 

Be  named ;  where,  faithful  to  a  low-roofed  Cot, 
On  Deva's  banks,  ye  have  abode  so  long ; 
Sisters  in  love,  a  love  allowed  to  climb, 
Even  on  this  earth,  above  the  reach  of  Time ! 


TO  THE  TOEEENT  AT  THE  DEVIL'S  BEIDGE* 
NOETH  WALES,  1824. 

Comp.  1824.     Pub.  1827. 

How  art  thou  named  ?     In  search  of  what  strange  land 

From  what  huge  height,  descending  ?     Can  such  force 

Of  waters  issue  from  a  British  source,! 

Or  hath  not  Pindus  fed  thee,$  where  the  band 

Of  Patriots  scoop  their  freedom  out,  with  hand 

Desperate  as  thine  ?     Or  come  the  incessant  shocks 

From  that  young  Stream,  §  that  smites  the  throbbing  rocks 

*  The  Devil's  Bridge  in  North  Wales  is  at  Hafod,  near  Aberystwith,  in 
Cardiganshire.  Like  the  Teufelsbriicke,  on  the  road  from  Goschenen  to 
Airolo,  over  the  St  Gothard  in  Switzerland,  which  spans  the  Reuss,  the 
Devil's  Bridge  in  Wales  is  double  ;  i.e.,  an  upper  and  an  under  bridge  span 
the  river  Mynach.  This  Pont-y-Mynach  was  built  either  by  the  monks  of 
Strata  Florida,  or  by  the  Knights  Hospitallers. 

In  the  letter  to  Sir  George  Beaumont,  referred  to  in  a  previous  note, 
Wordsworth  writes  :  ' '  We  went  up  the  Rhydiol  to  the  Devil's  Bridge,  where 
we  passed  the  following  day  in  exploring  these  two  rivers,  and  Hafod  in  the 
neighbourhood.  I  had  seen  these  things  long  ago,  but  either  my  memory 
or  my  powers  of  observation  had  not  done  them  justice.  It  rained  heavily 
in  the  night,  and  we  saw  the  waterfalls  in  perfection.  While  Dora  was 
attempting  to  make  a  sketch  from  the  chasm  in  the  rain,  I  composed  by 
her  side  the  following  address  to  the  torrent, 

*  How  art  thou  named  ?  &c.'"  — ED. 

t  There  are  several  consecutive  falls  on  the  river  Mynach,  at  the  Devil's 
Bridge,  the  longest  being  one  of  114  feet,  and  the  whole  taken  together 
amounting  to  314  feet. — ED. 

£  The  lofty  ridge  of  mountains  in  northern  Greece  between  Thessaly  and 
Epirus,  which,  like  the  Appennines  in  Italy,  form  the  back  bone  of  the 
country. — ED. 

§  The  Rhine.     The  Via  Mala  is  the  gorge  between  Thusis  and  Zillis,  near 
the  source  of  the  Rhine.    Compare  Descriptive  Sketches — 
"  Or,  led  where  Via  Mala's  chasms  confine 
The  indignant  waters  of  the  infant  Rhine." — 

(Vol.  I.,  p.  40.)— ED. 


COMPOSED  AMONG  THE  RUINS  OF  A  CASTLE.       123 

Of  Viamala  ?     There  I  seem  to  stand, 

As  in  life's  morn ;  permitted  to  behold, 

Erom  the  dread  chasm,  woods  climbing  above  woods, 

In  pomp  that  fades  not ;  everlasting  snows ; 

And  skies  that  ne'er  relinquish  their  repose ; 

Such  power  possess  the  family  of  floods 

Over  the  minds  of  Poets,  young  or  old ! 


COMPOSED  AMONG  THE  BUINS  OF  A  CASTLE 
IN  NOETH  WALES. 

Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

THROUGH  shattered  galleries,  'mid  roofless  halls, 
Wandering  with  timid  footsteps *  oft  betrayed, 
The  Stranger  sighs,  nor  scruples  to  upbraid 
Old  Time,  though  he,  gentlest  among  the  Thralls 
Of  Destiny,  upon  these  wounds  hath  laid 
His  lenient  touches,  soft  as  light  that  falls, 
Erom  the  wan  Moon,  upon  the  towers  and  walls, 
Light  deepening  the  profoundest  sleep  of  shade. 
Relic  of  Kings !     Wreck  of  forgotten  wars, 
To  winds  abandoned  and  the  prying  stars, 
Time  loves  Thee !  at  his  call  the  Seasons  twine 
Luxuriant  wreaths  around  thy  forehead  hoar ; 
And,  though  past  pomp  no  changes  can  restore, 
A  soothing  recompence,  his  gift,  is  thine  !  * 

1  1837. 

footstep        .        ,  1327. 

*  Compare  the  White  Doe  of  Rylstom,  Canto  I.  (Vol.  IV.,  p.  108)— 
"Nature,  softening  and  concealing, 

And  busy  with  a  hand  of  healing." 

This  was  doubtless  Carnarvon  Castle,  which  Wordsworth  visited  in 
September  1824,  at  the  close  of  his  three  weeks'  ramble  in  North  Wales,  of 
which  he  wrote  to  Sir  George  Beaumont.  "  We  employed  several  hours 
in  exploring  the  interior  of  the  noble  castle,  and  looking  at  it  from  different 
points  of  view  in  the  neighbourhood."— ED. 


24  ELEGIAC  STANZAS. 


ELEGIAC  STANZAS. 

(ADDRESSED  TO  SIR  G.  H.  B.  UPON  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  SISTER-IN-LAW.) 

1824.  i 
Comp.  1824.     Pub.  1827. 

[On  Mrs  Fermor.  This  lady  had  been  a  widow  long  before  I  knew 
her.  Her  husband  was  of  the  family  of  the  lady  celebrated  in  the 
"  Rape  of  the  Lock,"  and  was,  I  believe,  a  Roman  Catholic.  The 
sorrow  which  his  death  caused  her  was  fearful  in  its  character  as 
described  in  this  poem,  but  was  subdued  in  course  of  time  by  the 
strength  of  her  religious  faith.  I  have  been  for  many  weeks  at  a 
time,  an  inmate  with  her  at  Coleorton  Hall,  as  were  also  Mrs  Words- 
worth and  my  sister.  The  truth  in  the  sketch  of  her  character  here 
given  was  acknowledged  with  gratitude  by  her  nearest  relatives.  She 
was  eloquent  in  conversation,  energetic  upon  public  matters,  open  in 
respect  to  those,  but  slow  to  communicate  her  personal  feelings  ;  upon 
these  she  never  touched  in  her  intercourse  with  me,  so  that  I  could 
not  regard  myself  as  her  confidential  friend,  and  was  accordingly 
surprised  when  I  learnt  she  had  left  me  a  legacy  of  £100,  as  a  token 
of  her  esteem.  See  in  further  illustration  the  second  stanza  inscribed 
upon  her  cenotaph  in  Coleorton  church.] 

0  FOR  a  dirge  !     But  why  complain  ? 

Ask  rather  a  triumphal  strain 

When  FERMOR'S  race  is  run ; 

A  garland  of  immortal  boughs 

To  twine  2  around  the  Christian's  brows, 

Whose  glorious  work  is  done. 

We  pay  a  high  and  holy  debt ; 

No  tears  of  passionate  regret 

Shall  stain  this  votive  lay ; 

111- worthy,  Beaumont !  were  the  grief 

That  flings  itself  on  wild  relief 

When  Saints  have  passed  away. 

1  183T. 

Elegiac  Stanzas,  1824.  1827. 

2  1845. 

To  bind 1827. 


ELEGIAC  STANZAS.  125 

Sad  doom,  at  Sorrow's  shrine  to  kneel, 

For  ever  covetous  to  feel, 

And  impotent  to  bear ! 

Such  once  was  hers — to  think  and  think 

On  severed  love,  and  only  sink 

From  anguish  to  despair ! 

But  nature  to  its  inmost  part 

Faith  had l  refined  ;  and  to  her  heart 

A  peaceful  cradle  given : 

Calm  as  the  dew-drop's,  free  to  rest 

Within  a  breeze-fanned  rose's  breast 

Till  it  exhales  to  Heaven. 

Was  ever  Spirit  that  could  bend 

So  graciously  ? 2 — that  could  descend, 

Another's  need  to  suit. 

So  promptly  from  her  lofty  throne  ? — 

In  works  of  love,  in  these  alone, 

How  restless,  how  minute  ! 

Pale  was  her  hue ;  yet  mortal  cheek 3 
Ne'er  kindled  with  a  livelier  streak 
When  aught  had  suffered  wrong, — 
When  aught  that  breathes  had  felt  a  wound ; 
Such  look  the  Oppressor  might  confound, 
However  proud  and  strong. 

1  1837. 

Had  faith        ......  1327. 

2  1824. 

So  courteously 

MS.  copy  sent  to  Coleorton. 

3  1824. 

Pale  was  her  hue,  but  mortal  cheek 

MS.  copy,  Mrs  Wordsworth  to  Lady 
Beaumont. 


126  ELEGIAC  STANZAS. 

But  hushed  be  every  thought  that  springs 
From  out  the  bitterness  of  things ; 
Her  quiet  is  secure ; 
No  thorns  can  pierce  her  tender  feet, 
Whose  life  was,  like  the  violet,  sweet, 
As  climbing  jasmine,  pure — 

As  snowdrop  on  an  infant's  grave, 

Or  lily  heaving  with  the  wave 

That  feeds  it  and  defends ; 

As  Vesper,  ere  the  star  hath  kissed 

The  mountain  top,  or  breathed  the  mist 

That  from  the  vale  ascends. 

Thou  takest  not  away,  0  Death  ! 
Thou  strikest1 — absence  perisheth, 
Indifference  is  no  more  ; 
The  future  brightens  on  our  sight ; 
For  on  the  past  hath  fallen  a  light 
That  tempts  us  to  adore. 

1  1843. 

Thou  strik'st — and  ....  1827. 

In  a  letter  from  Mrs  Wordsworth  to  Lady  Beaumont,  dated 
"  Eydal  Mount,  Feb.  25,"  she  says  :— 

"  We  are  all  much  moved  by  the  manner  in  which  Miss  Wills  has 
received  the  verses, — particularly  Wm.,  who  feels  himself  more  than 
rewarded  for  the  labour  I  cannot  call  it  of  the  composition — for  the 
tribute  was  poured  forth  with  a  deep  stream  of  fervour  that  was 
something  beyond  labour,  and  it  has  required  very  little  correction. 
In  one  instance  a  single  word  in  the  "Address  to  Sir  George"  is  changed 
since  we  sent  the  copy,  viz :  *  graciously '  for  '  courteously,'  as  being 
a  word  of  more  dignity." 

The  following  inscription  was  "copied  from  the  Churchyard  of 
Claynes,  Sept.  14,  1826,"  by  Dorothy  Wordsworth,  in  a  MS.  book 
containing  numerous  epitaphs  on  tombstones,  and  inscriptions  on  rural 
monuments  in  cathedrals  and  churches,  in  the  various  parts  of  the 
country. 


CENOTAPH.  127 

Sacred 
To  the  memory  of  Frances  Fermor, 

Eelict  of  Henry  Fermor,  Esqre., 
Of  Fritwell,  in  the  County  of  Oxford, 

And  eldest  Daughter  of  the  late 

John  Willes,  Esqre.,  of  Astrop,  in  the  county 

Of  Northamptonshire,  who  departed  this  life, 

Dec.  5th,  1824,  aged  68  years. 

I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and 

The  life.     Whoso  cometh  to  me 

I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out. 

-ED. 


CENOTAPH. 

In  affectionate  remembrance  of  Frances  Fermor,  whose  remains  are 
deposited  in  the  church  of  Claines,  near  Worcester,  this  stone  is 
erected  by  her  sister,  Dame  Margaret,  wife  of  Sir  George  Beaumont, 
Bart.,  who,  feeling  not  less  than  the  love  of  a  brother  for  the  deceased, 
commends  this  memorial  to  the  care  of  his  heirs  and  successors  in  the 
possession  of  this  place. 

Comp.  1824.     Pub.  1842. 

[See  "  Elegiac  Stanzas.  (Addressed  to  Sir  G.  H.  B.,  upon  the  death 
of  his  sister-in-law.)"] 

BY  vain  affections  unenthralled, 
Though  resolute  when  duty  called 
To  meet  the  world's  broad  eye, 
Pure  as  the  holiest  cloistered  nun 
That  ever  feared  the  tempting  sun, 
Did  Fermor  live  and  die. 

This  Tablet,  hallowed  by  her  name,1 
One  heart-relieving  tear  may  claim ; 

1  1842. 

This  cenotaph  that  bears  her  name, 

MS.  Letter  of  Mrs  Wordsworth  to  Lady 
Beaumont. 

This  sacred  etone  that  bears  her  name, 

Another  MS.  copy  of  the  Poem  sent  by  Mrs 
Wordsworth  to  Lady  Beaumont. 


128  EPITAPH. 

But  if  the  pensive  gloom 
Of  fond  regret  be  still  thy  choice, 
Exalt  thy  spirit,  hear  the  voice 
Of  Jesus  from  her  tomb  ! 

'  I  AM  THE  WAY,  THE  TRUTH,  AND  THE  LlFE.' 

In  the  letter  to  Lady  Beaumont,  referred  to  in  the  notes,  the  title  of 
this  poem  is  "  Inscription  in  the  Church  of  Coleorton,"  and  a  footnote 
is  added,  "  Say,  to  the  left  of  the  vista,  within  the  thicket,  below  the 
churchyard  wall. — M.  W." 

Mrs  Wordsworth  also  says,  "  To  fit  the  lines,  intended  for  an  urn, 
for  a  Monument,  W.  has  altered  the  closing  stanza,  which  (though 
they  are  not  what  he  would  have  produced  had  he  first  cast  them  with 
a  view  to  the  Church)  he  hopes  you  will  not  disapprove." — ED. 


IV. 

EPITAPH 

IN  THE  CHAPEL-YARD  OF  LANGDALE,  WESTMORELAND. 

Comp.  1824.     Pub.  1842. 

[OWEN  LLOYD,  the  subject  of  this  epitaph,  was  born  at  Old  Brathay, 
near  Ambleside,  and  was  the  son  of  Charles  Lloyd  and  his  wife  Sophia 
(ntfe  Pemberton),  both  of  Birmingham,  who  came  to  reside  in  this  part 
of  the  country,  soon  after  their  marriage.  They  had  many  children, 
both  sons  and  daughters,  of  whom  the  most  remarkable  was  the  sub- 
ject of  this  epitaph.  He  was  educated  under  Mr  Dawes,  at  Ambleside, 
Dr  Butler,  of  Shrewsbury,  and  lastly  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
where  he  would  have  been  greatly  distinguished  as  a  scholar  but  for 
inherited  infirmities  of  bodily  constitution,  which,  from  early  child- 
hood, affected  his  mind.  His  love  for  the  neighbourhood  in  which  he 
was  born,  and  his  sympathy  with  the  habits  and  characters  of  the 
mountain  yeomanry,  in  conjunction  with  irregular  spirits,  that  ur fitted 
him  for  facing  duties  in  situations  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed,  in- 
duced him  to  accept  the  retired  curacy  of  Langdale.  How  much  he 
was  beloved  and  honoured  there,  and  with  what  feelings  he  discharged 
his  duty  under  the  oppression  of  severe  malady,  is  set  forth,  though 
imperfectly,  in  the  epitaph.] 

BY  playful  smiles,  (alas  !  too  oft 
A  sad  heart's  sunshine)  by  a  soft 
And  gentle  nature,  and  a  free. 
Yet  modest  hand  of  charity, 


EPITAPH.  129 

Through  life  was  OWEN  LLOYD  endeared 

To  young  and  old ;  and  how  revered 

Had  been  that  pious  spirit,  a  tide 

Of  humble  mourners  testified, 

When,  after  pains  dispensed  to  prove 

The  measure  of  God's  chastening  love, 

Here,  brought  from  far,  his  corse  found  rest, — 

Fulfilment  of  his  own  request ; — 

Urged  less  for  this  Yew's  shade,  though  he 

Planted  with  such  fond  hope  the  tree ; 

Less  for  the  love  of  stream  and  rock, 

Dear  as  they  were,  than  that  his  Flock, 

When  they  no  more  their  Pastor's  voice 

Could  hear  to  guide  them  in  their  choice 

Through  good  and  evil,  help  might  have, 

Admonished,  from  his  silent  grave, 

Of  righteousness,  of  sins  forgiven, 

For  peace  on  earth  and  bliss  in  heaven. 

This  commemorative  epitaph  to  the  Eev.  Owen  Lloyd  is  carved  on 
the  headstone  over  his  grave  in  the  churchyard  at  the  small  hamlet  of 
Chapel  Stile,  Great  Langdale,  Westmoreland.  — ED. 


VII. 


130  THE  PILLAR  OF  TRAJAN. 


1825. 

Three  Poems  were  written  in  1825,  The  Pillar  of  Trajan,  The  Parrot 
and  the  Wren,  and  the  lines  To  a  Skylark. 


THE  PILLAE  OF  TEAJAN 

Comp.  1825.    Pub.  1827. 

[These  verses  perhaps  had  better  be  transferred  to  the  class  of 
"  Italian  Poems."  I  had  observed  in  the  newspaper,  that  the  Pillar  of 
Trajan  was  given  as  a  subject  for  a  prize-poem  in  English  verse.  I 
had  a  wish  perhaps  that  my  son,  who  was  then  an  undergraduate  at 
Oxford,  should  try  his  fortune,  and  I  told  him  so  ;  but  he,  not  having 
been  accustomed  to  write  verse,  wisely  declined  to  enter  on  the  task  ; 
whereupon  I  showed  him  these  lines  as  a  proof  of  what  might,  without 
difficulty,  be  done  on  such  a  subject.] 

WHERE  towers  are  crushed,  and  imforbidden  weeds 

O'er  mutilated  arches  shed  their  seeds ; 

And  temples,  doomed  to  milder  change,  unfold 

A  new  magnificence  that  vies  with  old ; 

Firm  in  its  pristine  majesty  hath  stood 

A  votive  Column,  spared  by  fire  and  flood : — 

And,  though  the  passions  of  man's  fretful  race 

Have  never  ceased  to  eddy  round  its  base, 

Not  injured  more  by  touch  of  meddling  hands 

Than  a  lone  obelisk,  'mid  Nubian  sands, 

Or  aught  in  Syrian  deserts  left  to  save 

From  death  the  memory  of  the  good  and  brave. 

Historic  figures  round  the  shaft  embost 

Ascend,  with  lineaments  in  air  not  lost : 

Still  as  he  turns,  the  charmed  spectator  sees 

Group  winding  after  group  with  dream-like  ease, 


THE  PILLAR  OF  TRAJAN.  131 

Triumphs  in  sunbright  gratitude  displayed,* 
Or  softly  stealing  into  modest  shade. 
— So,  pleased  with  purple  clusters  to  entwine 
Some  lofty  elm-tree,  mounts  the  daring  vine ; 
The  woodbine  so,  with  spiral  grace,  and  breathes 
Wide-spreading  odours  from  her  flowery  wreaths. 

Borne  by  the  Muse  from  rills  in  shepherds'  ears 
Murmuring  but  one  smooth  story  for  all  years, 
I  gladly  commune  with  the  mind  and  heart 
Of  him  who  thus  survives  by  classic  art, 
His  actions  witness,  venerate  his  mien, 
And  study  Trajan  as  by  Pliny  seen ; 
Behold  how  fought  the  Chief  whose  conquering  sword 
Stretched  far  as  earth  might  own  a  single  lord ; 
In  the  delight  of  moral  prudence  schooled, 
How  feelingly  at  home  the  Sovereign  ruled ; 
Best  of  the  good — in  pagan  faith  allied 
To  more  than  Man,  by  virtue  deified. 

Memorial  Pillar !  'mid  the  wrecks  of  Time 
Preserve  thy  charge  with  confidence  sublime — 
The  exultations,  pomps,  and  cares  of  Rome, 
Whence  half  the  breathing  world  received  its  doom ; 
Things  that  recoil  from  language ;  that,  if  shown 
By  apter  pencil,  from  the  light  had  flown. 

*As  Wordsworth  says,  in  his  note  of  1827,  "Here  and  infra,  see 
Forsyth,"  it  may  be  interesting  to  add  Forsyth's  account  of  the  Pillar,  in 
footnotes.  "  Trajan's  Column,  considered  as  a  long  historical  record  to 
be  read  round  and  round  a  long  convex  surface,  made  perspective  im- 
possible. Every  perspective  has  one  fixed  point  of  view,  but  here  are  ten 
thousand.  The  eye,  like  the  relievos  of  the  column,  must  describe  a  spiral 
round  them,  widening  over  the  whole  pia/za.  Hence,  to  be  legible  the 
figures  must  be  lengthened  as  they  rise.  This  licence  is  necessary  here  ; 
but  in  architecture  it  may  be  contested  against  Vitruvius  himself."— 
Forsyth's  Remarks  on  Antiquities,  Arts,  and  Letters,  during  an  Excursion 
in  Italy  in  1802-3,  pp.  250,  251.— ED. 


132  THE  PILLAR  OF  TRAJAN. 

A  Pontiff,  Trajan  here  the  Gods  implores, 

There  greets  an  Embassy  from  Indian  shores ; 

Lo  !  he  harangues  his  cohorts — there  the  storm 

Of  battle  meets  him  in  authentic  form  ! 

Unharnessed,  naked,  troops  of  Moorish  horse 

Sweep  to  the  charge  ;*  more  high,  the  Dacian  force 

To  hoof  and  finger  mailed  ;  t — yet,  high  or  low, 

None  bleed,  and  none  lie  prostrate  but  the  foe ;  1 

In  every  Eoman,  through  all  turns  of  fate, 

Is  Eoman  dignity  inviolate ; 

Spirit  in  him  pre-eminent,  who  guides,  § 

Supports,  adorns,  and  over  all  presides ; 

Distinguished  only  by  inherent  state 

From  honoured  Instruments  that  round  him  wait,  || 

Eise  as  he  may,  his  grandeur  scorns  the  test 

Of  outward  symbol,  nor  will  deign  to  rest 

On  aught  by  which  another  is  deprest. 

— Alas !  that  One  thus  disciplined  could  toil 

*  "  In  detailing  the  two  wars,  this  column  sets  each  nation  in  contrast : 
here  the  Moorish  horse,  all  naked  and  unharnessed." — Forsytli,  p.  251.— ED. 

t  Here  and  infra,  see  Forsyth.— W.  W.,  1827. 

"There  the  Taranatians,  in  complete  mail  down  to  the  fingers  and  the 
hoofs.  It  exhibits  without  embellishment  all  the  tactics  of  that  age,  and 
forms  grand  commentary  on  Vegetius  and  Frontinus." — Forsyth,  p.  252. 
—ED. 

t"  How  unlike  the  modern  relievos,  where  dress  appears  in  allits  dis- 
tinctions, and  prostration  in  all  its  angles  !  none  kneel  here  but  priests 
and  captives  ;  no  Roman  appears  in  a  fallen  state :  none  are  wounded  or 
slain  but  the  f oe. "— Forsyth,  p.  251. 

No  monument  gives  the  complete  and  real  costume  of  its  kind  so  correctly 

as  this  column On  this  column  we  can  see  parts  of  the  subarmalia  ; 

we  can  see  real  drawers  falling  down  to  the  officers'  legs ;  and  some  figures 
have  foco lia,  like  invalids,  round  the  neck. — ED. 

§  "This  column  is  an  immense  field  of  antiquities,  where  the  emperor 
appears  in  a  hundred  different  points,  as  sovereign,  as  general,  as  priest." 
—Forsyth,  p.  251.— ED. 

||  "His  dignity  he  derives  from  himself  or  his  duties;  not  from  the 
trappings  of  power,  for  he  is  dressed  like  any  of  his  officers,  not  from 
the  debasement  of  others,  for  the  Romans  stand  bold  and  erect  before  him." 
—ED. 


THE  PILLAR  OF  TRAJAN.  133 

To  enslave  whole  nations  on  their  native  soil ; 

So  emulous  of  Macedonian  fame, 

That,  when  his  age  was  measured  with  his  aim, 

He  drooped,  'mid  else  unclouded  victories, 

And  turned  his  eagles  back  with  deep-drawn  sighs ; 

0  weakness  of  the  Great !  0  folly  of  the  Wise ! 

Where  now  the  haughty  Empire  that  was  spread 
With  such  fond  hope  ?  her  very  speech  is  dead ; 
Yet  glorious  Art  the  power  of  Time  defies, 
And  Trajan  still,  through  various  enterprise, 
Mounts,  in  this  fine  illusion,  toward  the  skies : 
Still  are  we  present  with  the  imperial  Chief, 
Nor  cease  to  gaze  upon  the  bold  Relief 
Till  Eome,  to  silent  marble  unconfmed, 
Becomes  with  all  her  years  a  vision  of  the  Mind. 

Trajan's  Column  was  set  up  by  the  Senate  and  people  of  Eome,  in 
honour  of  the  Emperor,  about  1 14  A.D.  It  is  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able pillars  in  the  world  ;  and  still  stands,  little  injured  by  time,  in  the 
centre  of  the  Forum  Trajanum  (now  a  ruin) ;  its  height — 132  feet — 
marking  the  height  of  the  earth  removed  when  the  Forum  was  made. 
On  the  pedestal  bas-reliefs  were  carved  in  series  showing  the  arms 
and  armour  of  the  Romans ;  and  round  the  shaft  of  the  column 
similar  reliefs,  exhibiting  pictorially  the  whole  story  of  the  Decian 
campaign  of  the  Emperor.  These  are  of  great  value  as  illustrating  the 
history  of  the  period,  the  costume  of  the  Roman  soldiers  and  the 
barbarians.  A  colossal  statue  of  Trajan  crowned  the  column  ;  and, 
when  it  fell,  Pope  Sixtus  V.  replaced  it  by  a  figure  of  St  Peter. 
It  is  referred  to  by  Pausanias  (v.  12.  6)  and  by  all  the  ancient  topo- 
graphers. See  a  minute  account  of  it,  with  excellent  illustrations,  in 
Hertzberg's  Geschichte  des  Romischen  Kaiserreiches,  pp.  330-345  (Berlin  : 
1880) ;  also  Muller's  DenkmaLer  der  Alten  Kunst,  p.  51.  The  book, 
however,  from  which  Wordsworth  gained  his  information  of  this 
pillar  was  evidently  Joseph  Forsyth's  Remarks  on  Antiquities,  Arts, 
and  Letters,  during  an  Excursion  in  Italy  in  1802-3  (London  :  1813). 
It  is  thus  that  Dean  Merivale  speaks  of  it : — 

"  Amid  this  profusion  of  splendour "  (i.e.,  in  the  Forum  Trajanum} 
"  the  great  object  to  which  the  eye  was  principally  directed  was  the 
column,  which  rose  majestically  in  the  centre  of  the  forum  to  the 
height  of  126  feet,  sculptured  from  the  base  of  the  shaft  to  the  summit 


134  THE  PILLAR  OF  TRAJAN. 

with  the  story  of  the  Decian  wars,  shining  in  every  volute  and  mould- 
ing, with  gold  and  pigments,  and  crowned  with  the  colossal  effigy  of 
the  august  conqueror.  .  .  .  The  proportions  of  the  Trajan  column 
are  peculiarly  graceful ;  the  compact  masses  of  stone,  nineteen  in 
number,  of  which  the  whole  shaft  is  composed,  may  lead  us  to  admire 
the  skill  employed  in  its  construction  ;  but  the  most  interesting  feature 
of  this  historic  monument  is  the  spiral  band  of  figures  which  through- 
out enriches  it.  To  the  subjects  of  Trajan  himself,  this  record  of  his 
exploits  in  bold  relief  must  have  given  a  vivid  and  sufficient  idea  of 
the  people,  the  places,  and  the  actions  indicated  ;  even  to  us,  after  so 
many  centuries,  they  furnish  a  correct  type  of  the  arms,  the  arts,  and 
the  costume  both  of  the  Romans  and  barbarians  which  we  should 
vainly  seek  for  elsewhere.  The  Trajan  column  forms  a  notable 
chapter  in  the  pictorial  history  of  Rome." — History  of  the  Romans 
under  the  Empire  (vol.  viii.,  pp.  46,  47). 

In  the  Fenwick  note,  Wordsworth  mentions  that  what  gave  rise  to 
this  poem  was  his  observing  in  the  newspapers  that  "the  Pillar  of 
Trajan  "  was  prescribed  as  a  subject  for  a  prize  poem  at  Oxford.  This 
determines  the  date  of  composition.  The  Pillar  of  Trajan  was  the 
Newdigate  prize  poem,  won  by  W.  W.  Tireman,  Wadham  Coll.,  in 
1826.  We  may  therefore  assume  that  the  subject  was  proposed  about 
the  summer  of  1825. 

The  Fenwick  note  to  this  poem  mentions  that  the  author's  son 
having  declined  to  attempt  to  compete  for  the  Oxford  prize  poem  on 
"The  Pillar  of  Trajan,"  his  father  wrote  it,  to  show  him  how  the 
thing  might  be  done.  This  son — the  Rev.  John  Wordsworth  of 
Brigham — wrote  Latin  verse,  however,  with  considerable  success  ;  and 
as  specimens  of  the  poetic  work  of  Dorothy  Wordsworth,  the  poet's 
sister,  and  of  Sarah  Hutchinson,  his  sister-in-law,  are  included  in  these 
volumes,  the  following  Epistola  ad  Patrem  suum,  written  at  Madeira 
in  1844,  may  be  reproduced. — ED. 

I  pete  longinquas,  non  segnis  Epistola,  terras, 

I  pete,  Rydaliae  conscia  saxa  lyrae  : 
I  pete,  qu&  valles  rident,  sylvaeque  lacusque, 

Quamvis  Arctoo  paene  sub  axe  jacent. 
Parvos  quaere  Lares,  non  aurea  Tecta,  poetae, 

Qui  tamen  ingenii  sceptraque  mentis  habet. 
Quid  faciat  genitor  ?  valeatne,  an  cura  senilis 

Opprimat  1     Ista  refer,  films  ista  rogat. 
Scire  velit,  quare  venias  tu  scrip ta  latine? 

Die  "  f  ugio  linguam,  magne  poeta,  tuam  ! 
Quern  Regina  jubet  circumdare  tempora  lauro, 

Quern  ver£  vatem  saecula  nostra  vocant." 
Inde  refer  gressus  responsaque  tradita  curae 

Fida  tuae,  numeris  in  loca  digna  senis, 
Haec  ego  tradiderim,  majoribus  ire  per  altum 


EPISTOLA  AD  PATREM  SUUM.  135 

Nunc  velis  miserum  me  mea  musa  rapit. 
Solvimus  d  portu,  navisque  per  aequora  currit 

Neptuni  auxilio  fluctifragisque  rotis. 
Neptunus  videt  attonitus,  Neptunia  conjux, 

Omnis  et  aequorei  nympha  comata  chori. 
Eadimus  Hispanum  litus,  loca  saxea  crebris 

Gallorum  belli  nobilitata  malis. 
Haud  mora,  sunt  visae  Gades,*  urbs  fabula  quondam, 

Claraque  ab  Herculeo  nomine,  clara  suo. 
Hanc  magnam  cognovit  Arabs,  Romanus  eandem, 

Utraque  gens  illi  vimque  decusque  tulit. 
Hora  brevis,  fragilisque  viris  !  similisque  ruina 

Viribus  humanis  omnia  facta  manet. 
Pulchra  jaces,  olim  Garthaginis  aemula  magnae. 

Nataque  famosae  non  inhonasta  Tyri ! 
En  !  ratibus  navale  caret,  nautis  caret  alnus, 

Mercatorque  fugit  dives  inane  Forum. 
Templa  vacant  pompa,  nitidisque  theatra,  catervis, 

Tristis  et  it  faeda  foemina  virque  via. 
Segnis  in  officiis,  nee  reetus  ad  aethera  miles 

Pauperis  et  vestes,  armaque  juris  habet. 
Sic  gens  quaeqme  perit,t  quando  civilia  bella 

Viscera  divellunt,  jusque  fidesque  fugit. 
Auspiciis  laetam  nostris  lux  proxima  pandit 

Te,  Calpe  $.  celsis  imperiosa  jugis. 
Urbs  munimen  habet  nullo  quassabile  bello, 

Claustrum  Tyrrhenis,  claustrum  et  Atlantis,  aquis. 
Undique  nam  vastae  sustentant  moenia  rapes, 

Quae  torv^  in  terras  inque  tuentur  aquas. 
Arteque  sunt  mirk  seetae  per  saxa  cavernae 

Atria  sanguineo  saeva  sacrata  Deo. 
Urbs  invicta  tamen  populis  commercia  tuta 

Praebet,  et  in  portus  illicit  inque  Forum. 
Hlc  Mercator  adest  Maurus  cui  rebus  agendis 

Ah  !  nimis  est  cordi  Punica  prisca  fides  ; 
Afer  et  e  mediis  Libyae  sitientis  arenis, 

Suetus  in  immunda  vivere  barbaric  ; 
Multus  et  aequoreis,  ut  quondam,  Graius  in  undis, 

Degener,  antiquum  sic  probat  ille  genus  ; 
Niliacae  potator  aquae,  Judaeus,  et  omne 

Litus  Tyrrhenum  quos,  et  Atlantis,  alit. 
Hos  quam  dissimiles  (linguae  sive  ora  notentur) 

Hos  qukm  felices  pace  Britannus  habet ! 

*  Cadiz. 

t  Hispania  hoc  tempore  bello  civili  divulsa  fuit. 

1  Gibraltar. 


136  EPISTOLA  AD  PATKEM  SUCJM. 

Anglia  !  dum  pietas  et  honos,  dum  nota  per  orbem 

Sit  tibi  in  intacto  pectore  prisca  fides  ; 
Dum  pia  cura  tibi,  magnos  meruisse  triumphos, 

Justaque  per  populos  jura  tulisse  feros  ; 
Longinquas  teneat  tua  vasta  potentia  terras, 

Et  maneat  Calpe  gloria  magna  Tibi ! 
Insula  Atlantaeis  assurgit  ab  aequoris  undis, 

Iiisula  flammigero  semper  amata  Deo, 
Seu  teneat  celsi  flagrantia  signo  Leonis, 

Seu  gyro  Pisces  interiora  petat. 
"  Hie  ver  assiduum  atque  alienis  mensibus  aestas," 

Flavus  et  autumnus  frugibus  usque  tumet. 
Non  jacet  lonio  felicior  Insula  ponto, 

Ulla,  nee  Eoi  fluctibus  oceani. 
Vix,  Madeira  !  tuum  nunc  ref ert  dicere  nomen, 

Floribus,  et  Baechi  munere  pingue  solum. 
Te  vetus  baud  vanis  cumulavit  laudibus  aetas, 

O  fortunate  conspicienda  choro  ! 
Haec  nunc  terra  sinu  nos  detinet  alma,  proculque 

A  Patriae  curis,  anxietate  domi. 
Sic  cepisse  ferunt  humanae  oblivia  curae 

Quisquis  Letliaeae  pocula  sumpsit  aquae  : 
Sic  semota  sequi  studtisque  odiisque  docebas 

Otia  disci  pulos,  docte  Epicure,  tuos. 
Sed  non  ulla  dies  grato  sine  sole,  nee  ullo 

Fruge  carens  hortus  tempore,*  fronde  nemus  ;  f 
Nee  levis  ignotis  oneratus  odoribus  aer, 

Quales  doctus  equum  flectere  novit  Arabs  ; 
Nee  caecae  quacunque  jacent  sub  rupe  cavernae,  | 

Quels  nunquam  radiis  Phoebus  adire  potest ; 
Nee  currentis  aquae  strepitus,  §  nee  saxa,  petensque 

Mons||  excelsa  suis  sidera  culminibus  ; 
Nee  tranquilla  quies,  rerumque  oblivia,  ponti 

Suadebunt  iterum  solicitare  vias  ! 
Rideat  at  quamvis  haec  vultu  terra  sereno, 

Tabescit  pravo  gens  malefida  jugo  : 
Dum  sedet  heu  !  tristis  morborum  pallor  in  ore, 

Crebraque  anhelanti  pectore  tussis  inest. 
Ambitus  et  luxus,  totoque  accersita  mundo, 

Quels  omnis  populus  quoque  sub  axe  perit ; 

*  Sunt  hibernis  mensibus  aurea  mala. 

t  Laureae  sylvae  sunt. 

I  Antris  abundat  Insula. 

§  Multos  rivos  natura,  miraque  humani  ingenii  arte  constructos  continet 
Madeira. 

||  Pace  Lusitanorum  Insula  nil  nisi  mons  est,  rectis  culminibus  mari 
conspicua. 


THE  CONTRAST.  137 

Famae  dira  sitis,  rerumque  onerosa  cupido. 

Raptaque  ab  irato  templa  diesque  Deo, 
Supplicium  non  lene  suum,  poenasque  tulerunt ; 

Saepe  petis  proprio,  vir  miser,  ense  latus  ! 
Uxor  adhuc  aegros  dilecta  resuscitat  artus  ; 

Anxia  cura  suis,  anxia  cura  mihi. 
Altera  quodque  dies  jam  roboris  attulit,  illud 

Altera  dura  suis  febribus  abstulerit. 
Aurea  mens  illi,  mollique  in  pectore  corda, 

Et  clarum  long&  nobilitate  genus. 
Quanquam  saepe  trahunt  Libycum  non  *  aera  sanum, 

(Gratia  magna  Dei),  frignora  nostra  vigent. 
lamque  vale  grandaeve  Pater,  grandaevaque  Mater, 

Tuque  O  dilecto  conjuge  laeta  soror  ! 
Quaeque  pias  nobis  partes  cognata  ferebas 

Nomina  vana  cadunt,  Tu  mihi  Mater  eras  ; 
Ingenioque  mari,  pietate  ornata  fideque 

Sanguine  nulla  domus,  semper  amore,  soror  ; 
Tu  quoque,  care,  vale,  Frater,  quamvis  procul  absis, 

Per  virides  campos,  quk  petit  aequor  Eden. 
Denique  tota  domus,  cunctique  valete  propinqui, 

Carmina  plura  mihi,  rnusa  manusque  negat. 
MADEIRAE,  MARTIIS  CALENDIS, 
1844. 

See  also  the  Carmen  Maiis  calendis  compositum,  the  Carmen  ad 
Maium  mensem,  and  the  Somnivaga, — evidently  by  the  same  writer, — 
in  the  appendix  to  the  second  edition  of  Yarrow  Revisited,  1836. — ED. 


THE  CONTBAST. 

THE  PARROT  AND  THE  WREN.  x 

Comp.  1825.  Pub.  1827. 

[The  Parrot  belonged  to  Mrs  Luff  while  living  at  Fox-Ghyll.  The 
wren  was  one  that  haunted  for  many  years  the  summer-house  between 
the  two  terraces  at  Eydal  Mount.] 

I. 

WITHIN  her  gilded  cage  confined, 
I  saw  a  dazzling  Belle, 
A  Parrot  of  that  famous  kind 
Whose  name  is  NON-PAREIL. 

1  1832. 

The  Contrast 1827. 

*  Ventus  ex  Africa. — Lcste. 


138  THE  CONTRAST. 

Like  beads  of  glossy  jet  her  eyes ; 
And,  smoothed  by  Nature's  skill, 
With  pearl  or  gleaming  agate  vies 
Her  finely-curved  bill. 

Her  plumy  mantle's  living  hues, 
In  mass  opposed  to  mass, 
Outshine  the  splendour  that  imbues 
The  robes  of  pictured  glass. 

And,  sooth  to  say,  an  apter  Mate 
Did  never  tempt  the  choice 
Of  feathered  Thing  most  delicate 
In  figure  and  in  voice. 

But,  exiled  from  Australian  bowers, 
And  singleness  her  lot, 
She  trills  her  song  with  tutored  powers, 
Or  mocks  each  casual  note, 

No  more  of  pity  for  regrets 
With  which  she  may  have  striven  ! 
Now  but  in  wantonness  she  frets, 
Or  spite,  if  cause  be  given ; 

Arch,  volatile,  a  sportive  bird 
By  social  glee  inspired ; 
Ambitious  to  be  seen  or  heard, 
And  pleased  to  be  admired ! 

II. 

THIS  moss-lined  shed,  green,  soft,  and  dry, 
Harbours  a  self-contented  Wren, 
Not  shunning  man's  abode,  though  shy, 
Almost  as  thought  itself,  of  human  ken. 


TO  A  SKYLARK.  139 

Strange  places,  coverts  unendeared, 

She  never  tried  ;  the  very  nest 

In  which  this  Child  of  Spring  was  reared, 

Is  warmed,  thro'  winter,  by  her  feathery  breast. 

To  the  bleak  winds  she  sometimes  gives 
A  slender  unexpected  strain ; 
Proof  that *  the  hermitess  still  lives, 
Though  she  appear  not,  and  be  sought  in  vain. 

Say,  Dora !  tell  me,  by  yon  placid  moon, 
If  called  to  choose  between  the  favourite  pair, 
Which  would  you  be, — the  bird  of  the  saloon, 
By  lady-fingers  tended  with  nice  care, 
Caressed,  applauded,  upon  dainties  fed, 
Or  Nature's  DARKLING  of  this  mossy  shed  ? 

The  "  moss-lined  shed,  green,  soft,  and  dry,"  still  remains  at  Rydal 
Mount,  as  it  was  in  the  poet's  time. — ED. 


TO  A  SKYLAEK. 

Comp.  1825.  Pub.  1827. 

[Written  at  Kydal  Mount.] 

ETHEREAL  minstrel !  pilgrim  of  the  sky  ! 
Dost  thou  despise  the  earth  where  cares  abound  ? 
Or,  while  the  wings  aspire,  are  heart  and  eye 
Both  with  thy  nest  upon  the  dewy  ground  ? 
Thy  nest  which  thou  canst  drop  into  at  will, 
Those  quivering  wings  composed,  that  music  still ! 
Leave  to  the  nightingale  her  shady  wood ; 
A  privacy  of  glorious  light  is  thine : 

1  1836. 

That  tells.  •        .  .        1827. 


140       ERE  WITH  COLD  BEADS  OF  MIDNIGHT  DEW. 

Whence  thou  dost  pour  upon  the  world  a  flood 
Of  harmony,  with  instinct 1  more  divine  : 
Type  of  the  wise  who  soar,  but  never  roam ; 
True  to  the  kindred  points  of  Heaven  and  Home  ! 2 

Compare  this  with  the  earlier  poem  To  a  Syklark,  written  in  1805, 
and  both  poems  with  Shelley's  still  finer  lyric  to  the  same  bird,  written 
in  1820.  See  also  the  Morning  Exercise  (1828),  stanzas  5-10.— ED. 


1826. 

The  poems  composed  in  1826  were  four.  They  include  two  referring 
to  the  month  of  May,  and  two  descriptive  of  places  near  Kydal  Mount. 
—ED. 


Comp.  1826. Pub.  1827. 

[Written  at  Eydal  Mount.     Suggested  by  the  condition  of  a  friend.] 

ERE  with  cold  beads  of  midnight  dew 

Had  mingled  tears  of  thine, 
I  grieved,  fond  Youth !  that  thou  shouldst  sue 

To  haughty  Geraldine. 

Immoveable  by  generous  sighs, 

She  glories  in  a  train 
Who  drag,  beneath  our  native  skies, 

An  oriental  chain. 

1  1832. 

rapture        .  1S27. 

2  To  the  last  point  of  vision,  and  beyond, 

Mount,  daring  warbler !  that  love-prompted  strain, 

('Twixt  thee  and  thine  an  ever  failing  bond) 

Thrills  not  the  less  the  bosom  of  the  plain  : 

Yet  might'st  thou  seem,  proud  privilege  !  to  sing 

All  independent  of  the  leafy  spring     (!oTslS£jkai)     1827"43< 

Seep.  177.' 


ODE.  141 

Pine  not  like  them  with  arms  across, 

Forgetting  in  thy  care 
How  the  fast-rooted  trees  can  toss 

Their  branches  in  mid  air. 

The  humblest  rivulet  will  take 

Its  own  wild  liberties ; 
And,  every  day,  the  imprisoned  lake 

Is  flowing  in  the  breeze. 

Then,  crouch  no  more  on  suppliant  knee, 

But  scorn  with  scorn  outbrave ; 
A  Briton,  even  in  love,  should  be 

A  subject,  not  a  slave ! 


ODE, 

COMPOSED   ON  MAY  MORNING. 

Comp.  1826. Pub.  1835. 

[This  and  the  following  poem  originated  in  the  lines,  "  How  delicate 
the  leafy  veil,"  &c.  My  daughter  and  I  left  Rydal  Mount  upon  a 
tour  through  our  mountains,  with  Mr  and  Mrs  Carr,  *  in  the  month  of 
May,  1826,  and  as  we  were  going  up  the  Vale  of  Newlands  I  was 
struck  with  the  appearance  of  the  little  chapel  gleaming  through  the 
veil  of  half -opened  leaves  ;  and  the  feeling  which  was  then  conveyed 
to  my  mind  was  expressed  in  the  stanza  referred  to  above.  As  in  the 
case  of  "  Liberty  "  and  "  Humanity,"  my  first  intention  was  to  write 
only  one  poem,  but  subsequently  I  broke  it  into  two,  making  additions 
to  each  part  so  as  to  produce  a  consistent  and  appropriate  whole.] 

WHILE  from  the  purpling  east  departs 

The  star  that  led  the  dawn, 
Blithe  Flora  from  her  couch  upstarts, 

For  May  is  on  the  lawn.  •[• 
A  quickening  hope,  a  freshening  glee, 

Foreran  the  expected  Power, 
Whose  first-drawn  breath,  from  bush  and  tree, 

Shakes  off  that  pearly  shower. 

*  Doubtless  the  Rev.  Mr  Carr,  of  Bolton  Abbey,  and  his  wife.  —ED. 
t  Compare  Thought  on  the,  Seasons,  written  hi  1829  (p.  219).— ED. 


1 42  ODE. 

All  Nature  welcomes  Her  whose  sway 

Tempers  the  year's  extremes ; 
Who  scattereth  lustres  o'er  noon-day, 

Like  morning's  dewy  gleams ; 
While  mellow  warble,  sprightly  trill, 

The  tremulous  heart  excite ; 
And  hums  the  balmy  air  to  still 

The  balance  of  delight. 

Time  was,  blest  Power !  when  youths  and  maids 

At  peep  of  dawn  would  rise, 
And  wander  forth  in  forest  glades 

Thy  birth  to  solemnize. 
Though  mute  the  song — to  grace  the  rite 

Untouched  the  hawthorn  bow, 
Thy  Spirit  triumphs  o'er  the  slight ; 

Man  changes,  but  not  Thou  ! 

Thy  feathered  Lieges  bill  and  wings 

In  love's  disport  employ ; 
Warmed  by  thy  influence,  creeping  things 

Awake  to  silent  joy : 
Queen  art  thou  still  for  each  gay  plant 

Where  the  slim  wild  deer  roves ; 
And  served  in  depths  where  fishes  haunt 

Their  own  mysterious  groves. 

Cloud-piercing  peak,  and  trackless  heath, 

Instinctive  homage  pay ; 
Nor  wants  the  dim-lit  cave  a  wreath 

To  honour  thee,  sweet  May ! 
Where  cities  fanned  by  thy  brisk  airs 

Behold  a  smokeless  sky, 
Their  puniest  flower-pot-nursling  dares 

To  open  a  bright  eye. 


TO  MAY.  143 

And  if,  on  this  thy  natal  morn, 

The  pole,  from  which  thy  name 
Hath  not  departed,  stands  forlorn 

Of  song  and  dance  and  game ; 
Still  from  the  village-green  a  vow 

Aspires  to  thee  addrest, 
Wherever  peace  is  on  the  brow, 

Or  love  within  the  breast. 

Yes  !  where  Love  nestles  thou  canst  teach 

The  soul  to  love  the  more ; 
Hearts  also  shall  thy  lessons  reach 

That  never  loved  before : 
Stript  is  the  haughty  one  of  pride 

The  bashful  freed  from  fear, 
While  rising,  like  the  ocean-tide, 

In  flows  the  joyous  year. 

Hush,  feeble  lyre  !  weak  words  refuse 

The  service  to  prolong  ! 
To  yon  exulting  thrush  the  Muse 

Entrusts  the  imperfect  song ; 
His  voice  shall  chant,  in  accents  clear, 

Throughout  the  live-long  day, 
Till  the  first  silver  star  appear, 

The  sovereignty  of  May. 

TO  MAY. 

Comp.  1826-34.     Pub.  1835. 

THOUGH  many  suns  have  risen  and  set 

Since  thou,  blithe  May,  wert  born. 
And  Bards,  who  hailed  thee,  may  forget 

Thy  gifts,  thy  beauty  scorn ; 


144  TO  MAY. 

There  are  who  to  a  birthday  strain 
Confine  not  harp  and  voice, 

But  evermore  throughout  thy  reign 
Are  grateful  and  rejoice  ! 

Delicious  odours !  music  sweet, 

Too  sweet  to  pass  away ! 
Oh  for  a  deathless  song  to  meet 

The  soul's  desire — a  lay 
That,  when  a  thousand  years  are  told, 

Should  praise  thee,  genial  Power ! 
Through  summer  heat,  autumnal  cold, 

And  winter's  dreariest  hour. 

Earth,  sea,  thy  presence  feel — nor  less, 

If  yon  ethereal  blue 
With  its  soft  smile  the  truth  express, 

The  heavens  have  felt  it  too. 
The  inmost  heart  of  man  if  glad 

Partakes  a  livelier  cheer ; 
And  eyes  that  cannot  but  be  sad 

Let  fall  a  brightened  tear. 

Since  thy  return,  through  days  and  weeks 

Of  hope  that  grew  by  stealth, 
How  many  wan  and  faded  cheeks 

Have  kindled  into  health  ! 
The  Old,  by  thee  revived,  have  said, 

"  Another  year  is  ours ; " 
And  wayward  Wanderers,  poorly  fed, 

Have  smiled  upon  thy  flowers. 

Who  tripping  lisps  a  merry  song 

Amid  his  playful  peers  ? 
The  tender  Infant  who  was  long 

A  prisoner  of  fond  fears  ; 


TO  MAY.  145 

But  now,  when  every  sharp-edged  blast 

Is  quiet  in  its  sheath, 
His  Mother  leaves  him  free  to  taste 

Earth's  sweetness  in  thy  breath. 

Thy  help  is  with  the  weed  that  creeps 

Along  the  humblest  ground ; 
No  cliff  so  bare  but  on  its  steeps 

Thy  favours  may  be  found ; 
But  most  on  some  peculiar  nook 

That  our  own  hands  have  drest, 
Thou  and  thy  train  are  proud  to  look, 

And  seem  to  love  it  best. 

And  yet  how  pleased  we  wander  forth 

When  May  is  whispering,  "  Come  ! 
"  Choose  from  the  bowers  of  virgin  earth 

"  The  happiest  for  your  home ; 
"  Heaven's  bounteous  love  through  me  is  spread 

"  From  sunshine,  clouds,  winds,  waves, 
"  Drops  on  the  mouldering  turret's  head, 

"  And  on  your  turf-clad  graves  ! " 

Such  greeting  heard,  away  with  sighs 

For  lilies  that  must  fade, 
Or  '  the  rathe  primrose  as  it  dies 

Forsaken '  in  the  shade  ! 
Vernal  fruitions  and  desires 

Are  linked  in  endless  chase ; 
While,  as  one  kindly  growth  retires, 

Another  takes  its  place. 

And  what  if  thou,  sweet  May,  hast  known 

Mishap  by  worm  and  blight ; 
VII.  K 


146  TO  MAY. 

If  expectations  newly  blown 
Have  perished  in  thy  sight ; 

If  loves  and  joys,  while  up  they  sprung, 
Were  caught  as  in  a  snare ; 

Such  is  the  lot  of  all  the  young, 
However  bright  and  fair. 

Lo !  Streams  that  April  could  not  check 

Are  patient  of  thy  rule ; 
Gurgling  in  foamy  water-break, 

Loitering  in  grassy  pool : 
By  thee,  thee  only,  could  be  sent 

Such  gentle  mists  as  glide, 
Curling  with  unconfirmed  intent, 

On  that  green  mountain's  side. 

How  delicate  the  leafy  veil 

Through  which  yon  house  of  God 
Gleams  'mid  the  peace  of  this  deep  dale  * 

By  few  but  shepherds  trod ! 
And  lowly  huts,  near  beaten  ways, 

No  sooner  stand  attired 
In  thy  fresh  wreaths,  than  they  for  praise 

Peep  forth,  and  are  admired. 

Season  of  fancy  and  of  hope, 

Permit  not  for  one  hour 
A  blossom  from  thy  crown  to  drop, 

Nor  add  it  to  a  flower ! 
Keep,  lovely  May,  as  if  by  touch 

Of  self-restraining  art, 
This  modest  charm  of  not  too  much, 

Part  seen,  imagined  part ! 

*  Newlands.     See  the  Fenwick  note.— ED. 


ONCE  I  COULD  HAIL  (HOWE'ER  SEKENE  THE  SKY).     147 


Comp.  1826.  Pub.  1827. 

["  No  faculty  yet  given  me  to  espy 

The  dusky  Shape  within  her  arms  imbound." 

Afterwards,  when  I  could  not  avoid  seeing  it,  I  wondered  at  this,  and 
the  more  so  because,  like  most  children,  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
watching  the  moon  through  all  her  changes,  and  had  often  continued 
to  gaze  at  it  when  at  the  full  till  half  blinded.] 


"  Late,  late  yestreen  I  saw  the  new  moone 
Wi'  the  auld  moone  in  hir  arme." 

Ballad  of  Sir  Patrick  Swence,  Percy's  Reltques. 


ONCE  I  could  hail  (howe'er  serene  the  sky) 

The  Moon  re-entering  her.  monthly  round, 

No  faculty  yet  given  me  to  espy 

The  dusky  Shape  within  her  arms  imbound, 

That  thin  memento  of  effulgence  lost 

Which  some  have  named  her  Predecessor's  ghost, 

Young,  like  the  Crescent  that  above  me  shone, 
Nought  I  perceived  within  it  dull  or  dim ; 
All  that  appeared  was  suitable  to  One 
Whose  fancy  had  a  thousand  fields  to  skim ; 
To  expectations  spreading  with  wild  growth, 
And  hope  that  kept  with  me  her  plighted  troth. 

I  saw  (ambition  quickening  at  the  view) 
A  silver  boat  launched  on  a  boundless  flood ; 
A  pearly  crest,  like  Dian's  when  it  threw 
Its  brightest  splendour  round  a  leafy  wood ; 


148  ONCE  I  COULD  HAIL  (HOWE'ER  SERENE  THE  SKY). 

But  not  a  hint  from  under-ground,  no  sign 
Fit  for  the  glimmering  brow  of  Proserpine.* 


Or  was  it  Dian's  self  *  that  seemed  to  move 
Before  me  ?  nothing  blemished  the  fair  sight ; 
On  her  I  looked  whom  jocund  Fairies  love, 
Cynthia,*  who  puts  the  little  stars  to  flight, 
And  by  that  thinning  magnifies  the  great, 
For  exaltation  of  her  sovereign  state. 

And  when  I  learned  to  mark  the  spectral  Shape 
As  each  new  Moon  obeyed  the  call  of  Time, 
If  glooni  fell  on  me,  swift  was  my  escape ; 
Such  happy  privilege  hath  life's  gay  Prime, 
To  see  or  not  to  see,  as  best  may  please 
A  buoyant  Spirit,  and  a  heart  at  ease. 

Now,  dazzling  Stranger !  when  thou  meet'st  my  glance, 
Thy  dark  Associate  ever  I  discern ; 
Emblem  of  thoughts  too  eager  to  advance 
While  I  salute  my  joys,  thoughts  sad  or  stern ; 
Shades  of  past  bliss,  or  phantoms  that,  to  gain 
Their  fill  of  promised  lustre,  wait  in  vain. 

So  changes  mortal  Life  with  fleeting  years  ; 
A  mournful  change,  should  Eeason  fail  to  bring 
The  timely  insight  that  can  temper  fears, 
And  from  vicissitude  remove  its  sting ; 
While  Faith  aspires  to  seats  in  that  domain 
Where  joys  are  perfect — neither  wax  nor  wane. 


*  Tenet,  lustrat,  agit,  Proserpina,  Luna,  Diana  ; 
Ima,  suprema,  feras,  sceptro,  fulgore,  sagitta. 

—ED. 


THE  MASSY  WAYS,  CARRIED  ACROSS  THESE  HEIGHTS.  1  49 


Comp.  1826.  Pub.  1835.* 

[The  walk  is  what  we  call  the  Far-terrace,  beyond  the  summer-house 
at  Rydal  Mount.  The  lines  were  written  when  we  were  afraid  of 
being  obliged  to  quit  the  place  to  which  we  were  so  much  attached.] 

THE  massy  Ways,  carried  across  these  heights  1 

By  Eoman  perseverance,!  are  destroyed, 

Or  hidden  under  ground,  like  sleeping  worms. 

How  venture  then  to  hope  that  Time  will  spare  2 

This  humble  Walk  ?     Yet  on  the  mountain's  side 

A  POET'S  hand  first  shaped  it ;  and  the  steps 

Of  that  same  Bard — repeated  to  and  fro 

At  morn,  at  noon,  and  under  moonlight  skies  3 

Through  the  vicissitudes  of  many  a  year — 

1  1835. 

once  carried  o'er  these  hills  MS. 

2  1835. 

to  hope  that  private  claims 
Will  from  the  injuries  of  time  protect  MS. 

3  1835. 

and  the  foot 

Of  that  same  Bard,  by  pacing  to  and  fro 
At  morn,  and  noon,  and  under  moonlight  skies          MS. 

*  The  title  of  these  lines  in  the  edition  of  1835  was  Inscription. — ED. 

t  Referring  to  the  Roman  wall,  fragments  of  which  are  to  be  seen  on 
High  Street.  Ambleside  was  a  Roman  station.  "At  the  upper  corner  of 
Windermere  lieth  the  dead  carcase  of  an  ancient  city,  with  great  ruins 
of  walls,  and  many  heaps  of  rubbish,  one  from  another,  remaining  of  build- 
ing without  the  walls,  yet  to  be  seen.  The  fortress  thereof  was  somewhat 
long,  fenced  with  a  ditch  and  rampire,  took  up  in  length  132  ells,  and 
breadth  80.  That  it  had  been  the  Romans'  work  is  evident  by  the  British 
bricks,  by  the  mortar  tempered  with  little  pieces  of  brick  among  it,  by 
small  earthern  pots  or  pitchers,  by  small  cruets  or  phials  of  glass,  by  pieces 
of  Roman  money  oftentimes  found,  and  by  round  stones  as  big  as  millstones 
or  quernstones,  of  which  laid  and  couched  together  they  framed  in  old 
times  their  columns,  and  by  the  paved  ways  leading  to  it.  Now  the  ancient 
name  is  gone,  unless  a  man  would  guess  at  it,  and  think  it  were  that 
Amboglana,  whereof  the  book  of  notices  maketh  mention,  seeing  at  this 
day  it  is  called  Ambleside. "—See  Camden's  Britannia,  645.  (edition  1590).— 
ED. 


150  FAREWELL  LINES. 

Forbade  the  weeds  to  creep  o'er  its  grey  line. 

No  longer,  scattering  to  the  heedless  winds 

The  vocal  raptures  of  fresh  poesy, 

Shall  he  frequent  those  precincts  ; l  locked  no  more 

In  earnest  converse  with  beloved  Friends, 

Here  will  he  gather  stores  of  ready  bliss, 

As  from  the  beds  and  borders  of  a  garden 

Choice  flowers  are  gathered  !     But,  if  Power  may  spring 

Out  of  a  farewell  yearning — favoured  more 

Than  kindred  wishes  mated  suitably 

With  vain  regrets — the  Exile  would  consign 

This  Walk,  his  loved  possession,  to  the  care 

Of  those  pure  Minds  that  reverence  the  Muse.  2 


FAEEWELL  LINES.* 

Comp.  1826.     Pub.  1842. 

[These  lines  were  designed  as  a  farewell  to  Charles  Lamb  and  his 
sister,  who  had  retired  from  the  throngs  of  London  to  comparative 
solitude  in  the  village  of  Enfield.] 

'  HIGH  bliss  is  only  for  a  higher  state/ 
But,  surely,  if  severe  afflictions  borne 

1  1845. 

these  precincts        .        .        .        1835. 

2  1842. 

its  gray  line. 

Murmuring  his  unambitious  verse  alone, 

Or  in  sweet  converse  with  beloved  Friends. 

No  more  must  he  frequent  it.     Yet  might  power 

Follow  the  yearnings  of  the  spirit,  he 

Reluctantly  departing,  would  consign 

This  walk,  his  heart's  possession,  to  the  care 

Of  those  pure  Minds  that  reverence  the  Muse.  MS. 

*  As  Charles  Lamb  retired  to  Enfield  in  1826,  these  lines  cannot  have 
been  composed  much  later  than  that  year,  although  they  were  not  published 
till  1842.  Lamb  wrote  thus  to  Wordsworth  on  the  6th  of  April  1825  :  "I 
came  home  FOR  EVER  on  Tuesday  in  last  week.  The  incomprehensibleness 
of  my  condition  overwhelmed  me.  It  was  like  passing  from  life  into 


FAREWELL  LINES.  151 

With  patience  merit  the  reward  of  peace, 

Peace  ye  deserve ;  and  may  the  solid  good, 

Sought  by  a  wise  though  late  exchange,  and  here 

"With  bounteous  hand  beneath  a  cottage-roof 

To  you  accorded,  never  be  withdrawn, 

Nor  for  the  world's  best  promises  renounced. 

Most  soothing  was  it  for  a  welcome  Friend, 

Fresh  from  the  crowded  city,  to  behold 

That  lonely  union,  privacy  so  deep, 

Such  calm  employments,  such  entire  content 

So  when  the  rain  is  over,  the  storm  laid, 

A  pair  of  herons  oft-times  have  I  seen, 

Upon  a  rocky  islet,  side  by  side, 

Drying  their  feathers  in  the  sun,  at  ease; 

And  so,  when  night  with  grateful  gloom  had  fallen, 

Two  glow-worms  in  such  nearness  that  they  shared, 

As  seemed,  their  soft  self-satisfying  light, 

Each  with  the  other,  on  the  dewy  ground, 

Where  he  that  made  them  blesses  their  repose. — 

When  wandering  among  lakes  and  hills  I  note, 

Once  more,  those  creatures  thus  by  nature  paired, 

And  guarded  in  their  tranquil  state  of  life, 

Even,  as  your  happy  presence  to  my  mind 

Their  union  brought,  will  they  repay  the  debt, 

And  send  a  thankful  spirit  back  to  you, 

With  hope  that  we,  dear  Friends !  shall  meet  again. 

eternity.  ...  I  wandered  about,  thinking  I  was  happy,  but  feeling  I  was 
not.  But  that  tumultuousness  is  passing  off,  and  I  begin  to  understand  the 
nature  of  the  gift.  Holidays,  even  the  annual  month,  were  always  uneasy 
joys :  their  conscious  fugitiveness ;  the  craving  after  making  the  most  of 
them.  Now,  when  all  is  holiday,  there  is  no  holiday.  I  can  sit  at  home, 
in  rain  or  shine,  without  a  restless  impulse  for  walkings.  I  am  daily  steady- 
ing, and  shall  soon  find  it  as  natural  to  me  to  be  my  own  master,  as  it  has 
been  irksome  to  have  had  a  master.  Mary  wakes  every  morning  with  an 
obscure  feeling  that  some  good  has  happened  to  us." — ED. 


152  ON  SEEING  A  NEEDLECASE  IN  THE  FORM  OF  A  HARP. 


1827. 

The  poems  composed  in  1827  were  for  the  most  part  sonnets.  But 
several  of  the  sonnets  first  published  in  1827  evidently  belong  to  an 
earlier  year,  the  date  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  discover. 

ON  SEEING  A  NEEDLECASE  IN  THE  FOKM  OF  A 

HAKP. 

THE  WORK   OF   E.   M.   S.* 

Comp.  1827.     Pub.  1827. 

FKOWNS  are  on  every  Muse's  face, 
Reproaches  from  their  lips  are  sent, 

That  mimicry  should  thus  disgrace 
The  noble  Instrument. 

A  very  Harp  in  all  but  size ! 

Needles  for  strings  in  apt  gradation  ! 
Minerva's  self  would  stigmatize 

The  unclassic  profanation. 

Even  her  own  needle  that  subdued 

Arachne's  rival  spirit,  t 
Though  wrought  in  Vulcan's  happiest  mood, 

Such  honour l  could  not  merit. 

1  1845. 

Like  station      .  ...  1827. 


*  Edith  May  Southey.— ED. 

t  Arachne,  daughter  of  a  dyer  of  Colophon,  skilful  with  her  needle,  chal- 
lenged Minerva  to  a  trial  of  skill.  Minerva  defeated  her,  and  committing 
suicide,  she  was  changed  by  the  goddess  into  a  spider. — ED. 


ON  SEEING  A  NEEDLECASE  IN  THE  FORM  OF  A  HARP.   153 

And  this,  too,  from  the  Laureate's  Child, 

A  living  lord  of  melody ! 
How  will  her  Sire  be  reconciled 

To  the  refined  indignity  ? 

I  spake,  when  whispered  a  low  voice, 

"  Bard  !  moderate  your  ire ; 
Spirits  of  all  degrees  rejoice 

In  presence  of  the  lyre. 

The  Minstrels  of  Pygmean  bands,  * 
Dwarf  Genii,  moonlight-loving  Fays, 

Have  shells  to  fit  their  tiny  hands 
And  suit  their  slender  lays. 

Some,  still  more  delicate  of  ear, 

Have  lutes  (believe  my  words) 
Whose  framework  is  of  gossamer, 

While  sunbeams  are  the  chords. 

Gay  Sylphs  t  this  miniature  will  court, 
Made  vocal  by  their  brushing  wings, 

And  sullen  Gnomes  t  will  learn  to  sport 
Around  its  polished  strings ; 

Whence  strains  to  love-sick  maiden  dear, 
While  in  her  lonely  bower  she  tries 

To  cheat  the  thought  she  cannot  cheer, 
By  fanciful  embroideries. 

*  Pygmsei,  the  nation  of  Lilliputian  dwarfs,  fabled  to  dwell  in  India,  or 
Ethiopia.  (See  Ovid,  Meta.,  vi.  90 ;  Aristotle  De  Anima,  viii.  12.)— ED. 

t  According  to  mediaeval  belief,  the  Sylphs  were  elemental  spirits  of  the 
air;  the  Gnomes  the  elemental  spirits  of  the  earth.  "The  gnomes,  or 
demons  of  the  earth,  delight  in  mischief ;  but  the  sylphs,  whose  habitation 
is  in  the  air,  are  the  best  conditioned  creatures  imaginable." — (Pope,  Rape 
of  the  Lock,  Preface.)— ED. 


154     HAPPY  THE  FEELING  FROM  THE  BOSOM  THROWN. 

Trust,  angry  Bard !  a  knowing  Sprite, 
Nor  think  the  Harp  her  lot  deplores ; 

Though  'mid  the  stars  the  Lyre  shine  l  bright, 
Love  stoops  as  fondly  as  he  soars."  2 


MISCELLANEOUS    SONNETS. 
DEDICATION. 

Comp.  1827.     Pub.  1827. 

[In  the  cottage,  Town-end,  Grasmere,  one  afternoon  in  1801,  my 
sister  read  to  me  the  Sonnets  of  Milton.  I  had  long  been  well 
acquainted  with  them,  but  I  was  particularly  struck  on  that  occasion 
by  the  dignified  simplicity  and  majestic  harmony  that  runs  through 
most  of  them, — in  character  so  totally  different  from  the  Italian,  and 
still  more  so  from  Shakespeare's  fine  Sonnets.  I  took  fire,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  to  say  so,  and  produced  three  Sonnets  the  same  afternoon,  the 
first  I  ever  wrote  except  an  irregular  one  at  school.  Of  these  three, 
the  only  one  I  distinctly  remember  is  "I  grieved  for  BuonaparteV' 
One  was  never  written  down :  the  third,  which  was,  I  believe, 
preserved,  I  cannot  particularise.] 

TO  * 

HAPPY  the  feeling  from  the  bosom  thrown 
In  perfect  shape  (whose  beauty  Time  shall  spare 
Though  a  breath  made  it)  like  a  bubble  blown 
For  summer  pastime  into  wanton  air ; 
Happy  the  thought  best  likened  to  a  stone 
Of  the  sea-beach,  when,  polished  with  nice  care, 
Veins  it  discovers  exquisite  and  rare, 
Which  for  the  loss  of  that  moist  gleam  atone 
That  tempted  first  to  gather  it.     That  here, 
0  chief  of  Friends  !*  such  feelings  I  present, 

1  1832. 

shines        .        .  1827. 

2  1827. 

.         .         .         .         .         as  she  soars.  MS. 

*  He  probably  refers  to  his  sister,  whose  reading  of  Milton's  sonnets  in 
1801  first  led  him  (as  the  Fenwick  note  tells  us)  to  write  Sonnets. — ED. 


HER  ONLY  PILOT  THE  SOFT  BREEZE.  155 

To  thy  regard,  with  thoughts  so  fortunate, 

Were  a  vain  notion ;  but  the  hope  is  dear,1 

That  thou,  if  not  with  partial  joy  elate, 

Wilt  smile  upon  this  gift  with2  more  than  mild  content  !* 


Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

HER  only  pilot  the  soft  breeze,  the  boat 

Lingers,  but  Fancy  is  well  satisfied ; 

With  keen-eyed  Hope,  with  Memory,  at  her  side, 

And  the  glad  Muse  at  liberty  to  note 

All  that  to  each  is  precious,  as  we  float 

Gently  along :  regardless  who  shall  chide 

If  the  heavens  smile,  and  leave  us  free  to  glide, 

Happy  Associates  breathing  air  remote 

From  trivial  cares.     But,  Fancy  and  the  Muse, 

Why  have  I  crowded  this  small  bark  with  you 

And  others  of  your  kind,  ideal  crew ! 

While  here  sits  One  whose  brightness  owes  its  hues 

To  flesh  and  blood ;  no  Goddess  from  above, 

No  fleeting  Spirit,  but  my  own  true  Love  ?  t 


Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

"  WHY,  Minstrel,  these  untuneful  murmurings — 
Dull,  flagging  notes  that  with  each  other  jar  ?" 

1  1837. 

gather  it.     O  chief 

Of  friends  !  such  feelings  if  I  here  present, 

Such  thoughts,  with  others  mixed  less  fortunate  ; 

Then  smile  into  my  heart  a  fond  belief, 

That  thou 1827. 

2  1837. 

KeceiVst  the  gift  for        ....  1827. 

*  "Something  less  titan  joy,  but  more  than  dull  content." 

— COUNTESS  OF  WINCHILSEA. — W.W.,  1827. 
t  A  reminiscence  of  a  day  on  Grasmere  Lake  with  Mrs  Wordsworth. — ED. 


156  TO  S.  H. 

"  Think,  gentle  Lady,  of  a  Harp  so  far 
From  its  own  country,  and  forgive  the  strings." 
A  simple  answer !  but  even  so  forth  springs, 
From  the  Castalian  fountain  of  the  heart.* 
The  Poetry  of  Life,  and  all  that  Art 
Divine  of  words  quickening  insensate  things. 
From  the  submissive  necks  of  guiltless  men 
Stretched  on  the  block,  the  glittering  axe  recoils 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars,  all  struggle  in  the  toils 
Of  mortal  sympathy :  what  wonder  then 
That1  the  poor  Harp  distempered  music  yields 
To  its  sad  Lord,  far  from  his  native  fields  ? 


TO  S.  H.t 
Comp.  1827.     Pub.  1827. 

EXCUSE  is  needless  when  with  love  sincere 

Of  occupation,  not  by  fashion  led, 

Thou  turn'st  the  Wheel  that  slept  with  dust  o'erspread ; 

My  nerves  from  no  such  murmur  shrink, — tho'  near, 

Soft  as  the  Dorhawk's  to  a  distant  ear, 

"When  twilight  shades  darken2  the  mountain's  head.{ 

Even  She  who  toils  to  spin  our  vital  thread3  § 

1  1837. 

If 1827. 

2  1837. 

bedim        .         .         .  1827. 

3  1843. 

She  who  was  feigned  to  spin  our  vital  thread  1827. 

*  Castalay  (Castalius  fons),   a  fountain  near  Parnassus  sacred  to  the 
muses.     Virg.,  Georg.,  iii.  293. — ED. 

t  Sarah  Hutchinson,  Mrs  Wordsworth's  sister. — ED. 

*  "Wansfell,  or  Loughrigg. — ED. 

§  Lachesis,  the  second  of  the  three  Parcae,  who  was  supposed  to  spin 
out  the  actions  of  our  life. 

"Clotho  colum  retinet,  Lachesis  net,  et  Atropos  occat."    — ED. 


DECAY  OF  PIETY.  157 

Might  smile  on  work,  0  Lady,  once  so  dear1 

To  household  virtues.     Venerable  Art, 

Torn  from  the  Poor  !*  yet  shall  kind  Heaven  protect 

Its  own :  though  Kulers,  with  undue  respect, 

Trusting  to  crowded  factory  and  mart  t 

And2  proud  discoveries  of  the  intellect, 

Heed  not3  the  pillage  of  man's  ancient  heart. 


DECAY  OF  PIETY. 

Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

[Attendance  at  church  on  prayer-days,  Wednesdays  and  Fridays  and 
Holidays,  received  a  shock  at  the  Eevolution.  It  is  now,  however, 
happily  reviving.  The  ancient  people  described  in  this  Sonnet  were 
among  the  last  of  that  pious  class.  May  we  hope  that  the  practice, 
now  in  some  degree  renewed,  will  continue  to  spread.] 

OFT  have  I  seen,  ere  Time  had  ploughed  my  cheek, 

Matrons  and  Sires — who  punctual  to  the  call 

Of  their  loved  Church,  on  fast  or  festival 

Through  the  long  year  the  House  of  Prayer  would  seek : 

By  Christmas  snows,  by  visitation  bleak 

Of  Easter  winds,  unscared,  from  hut  or  hall 

1  1837. 

Might  smile,  O  lady  !  on  a  task  once  dear  1827. 

2  1837. 

!  yet  will  kind  Heaven  protect 
Its  own,  not  left  without  a  guiding  chart, 
If  rulers,  trusting  with  undue  respect 
To  1827. 

3  1837. 

Sanction 1827. 

*  Referring  to  the  introduction  of  steam -looms,  which  displaced  the  hand- 
loom  spinning  of  a  previous  generation. — ED. 

t  Compare  The,  Excursion,  Book  viii.  1.  166-186.— ED. 


158  SCORN  NOT  THE  SONNET;  CRITIC,  YOU  HAVE  FROWNED. 

They  came  to  lowly  bench  or  sculptured  stall, 

But  with  one  fervour  of  devotion  meek. 

I  see  the  places  where  they  once  were  known, 

And  ask,  surrounded  even  by  kneeling  crowds, 

Is  ancient  Piety  for  ever  flown  ? 

Alas !  even  then  they  seemed  like  fleecy  clouds 

That,  struggling  through  the  western  sky,  have  won 

Their  pensive  light  from  a  departed  sun  ! 


Comp.  1827. Pub.  1827. 

[Composed,  almost  extempore,  in  a  short  walk  on  the  western  side  of 
Rydal  Lake.] 

SCORN  not  the  Sonnet ;  Critic,  you  have  frowned, 

Mindless  of  its  just  honours  ;  with  this  key 

Shakespeare  unlocked  his  heart  ;*  the  melody 

Of  this  small  lute  gave  ease  to  Petrarch's  wound ;  t 

A  thousand  times  this  pipe  did  Tasso  sound ;  J 

With  it  Camoens  soothed1  an  exile's  grief  ;§ 

The  Sonnet  glittered  a  gay  myrtle  leaf 

Amid  the  cypress  with  which  Dante  ]|  crowned 

His  visionary  brow :  a  glow-worm  lamp, 

It  cheered  mild  Spencer,  called  from  Faery-land 

1  1837. 

Camoens  soothed  with  it          ...  i&>7. 

*  Shakespeare's  sonnets  are  autobiographical :  compare  Nos.  24,  30,  39, 
105,  116.— ED. 

t  Petrarch's  were  all  inspired  by  his  devotion  to  Laura. — ED. 

t  Tasso's  works  include  two  volumes  of  sonnets,  first  published  in  1581 
and  1592.— ED. 

§  For  his  satire  Disparates  na  India,  Camoens  was  banished  to  Macao  in 
1556,  where  he  wrote  the  Os  Lusiades,  also  many  sonnets  and  lyric  poems. 
—ED. 

||  Compare  the  Vita  Nuova,  passim. — ED. 


FAIR  PRIME  OF  LIFE  !    WERE  IT  ENOUGH  TO  GILD.    15.9 

To  struggle  through  dark  ways  ;*  and,  when  a  damp 
Fell  round  the  path  of  Milton,  in  his  hand 
The  Thing  became  a  trumpet;!  whence  he  blew 
Soul-animating  strains — alas,  too  few  !  t 


Comp.  1827.     Pub.  1827. 

[Suggested  by  observation  of  the  way  in  which  a  young  friend, 
whom  I  do  not  choose  to  name,  misspent  his  time  and  misapplied  his 
talents.  He  took  afterwards  a  better  course,  and  became  a  useful 
member  of  society,  respected,  I  believe,  wherever  he  has  been  known.] 

FAIR  Prime  of  life  !  were  it  enough  to  gild 

With  ready  sunbeams  every  straggling  shower ; 

And,  if  an  unexpected  cloud  should  lower, 

Swiftly  thereon  a  rainbow  arch  to  build 

For  Fancy's  errands, — then,  from  fields  half-tilled 

Gathering  green  weeds  to  mix  with  poppy  flower, 

Thee  might  thy  Minions  crown,  and  chant  thy  power, 

Unpitied  by  the  wise,  all  censure  stilled. 

Ah !  show  that  worthier  honours  are  thy  due : 

Fair  Prime  of  life  !  arouse  the  deeper  heart ; 

Confirm  the  Spirit  glorying  to  pursue 

Some  path  of  steep  ascent  and  lofty  aim ; 

And,  if  there  be  a  joy  that  slights  the  claim 

Of  grateful  memory,  bid  that  joy  depart. 

*  Spencer  wrote  ninety-two  sonnets.      From  the  eightieth  sonnet  it 
would  seem  that  the  writing  of  them  was  a  relaxtion,  after  the  labour  spent 
upon  the  "  Faery  Queen."    It  is  to  this  sonnet  that  Wordsworth  alludes. 
"  After  so  long  a  race  as  I  have  run 
Through  Faery  land,  which  these  six  hooks  compile, 
Give  leave  to  rest  me,  being  half  foredone, 
And  gather  to  myself  new  breath  awhile." — ED. 

t  Milton's  twenty-three  sonnets  were  written  partly  in  English,  partly  in 
Italian.     Compare  Wordsworth's  sonnet  addressed  to  him  in  1802 — 
"  Milton,  Thou  shouldst  be  living  at  this  hour,"  &c. 

(Vol.  II.  p.  300.)— ED. 
J  Compare  the  sonnet  beginning — 

"  Nuns  fret  not  at  their  convent's  narrow  room." 

(Vol.  IV.  p.  21.)— ED. 


160  RETIREMENT. 


KETIKEMEOT. 

Comp.  1827.  Pub.  1827. 

IF  the  whole  weight  of  what  we  think  and  feel, 
Save  only  far  as  thought  and  feeling  blend 
With  action,  were  as  nothing,  patriot  Friend ! 
From  thy  remonstrance  would  be  no  appeal ; 
But  to  promote  and  fortify  the  weal 
Of  our  own  Being  is  her  paramount  end ; 
A  truth  which  they  alone  shall  comprehend 
Who  shun  the  mischief  which  they  cannot  heal. 
Peace  in  these  feverish  times  is  sovereign  bliss : 
Here,  with  no  thirst  but  what  the  stream  can  slake, 
And  startled  only  by  the  rustling  brake, 
Cool  air  I  breathe ;  while  the  unincumbered  Mind 
By  some  weak  aims  at  services  assigned 
To  gentle  Natures,  thanks  not  Heaven  amiss. 

Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

THERE  is  a  pleasure  in  poetic  pains 

WJiick  only  Poets  know ; — 'twas  rightly  said 

Whom  could  the  Muses  else  allure  to  tread 

Their  smoothest  paths,  to  wear  their  lightest  chains  ? 

When  happiest  Fancy  has  inspired  the  strains, 

How  oft  the  malice  of  one  luckless  word 

Pursues  the  Enthusiast  to  the  social  board, 

Haunts  him  belated  on  the  silent  plains ! 

Yet  he  repines  not,  if  his  thought  stand  clear, 

At  last,  of  hindrance  and  obscurity, 

Fresh  as  the  star  that  crowns  the  brow  of  morn ; 

Bright,  speckless,  as  a  softly-moulded  tear 

The  moment  it  has  left  the  virgin's  eye, 

Or  rain-drop  lingering  on  the  pointed  thorn. 


WHEN  PHILOCTETES  IN  THE  LEMNIAN  ISLE.       161 


RECOLLECTION  OF  THE  PORTRAIT  OF  KING 
HENRY  EIGHTH,   TRINITY  LODGE,   CAMBRIDGE.* 

Comp.  1827.     Pub.  1827. 

THE  imperial  Stature,  the  colossal  stride, 
Are  yet  before  me ;  yet  do  I  behold 
The  broad  full  visage,  chest  of  amplest  mould, 
The  vestments  'broidered  with  barbaric  pride : 
And  lo !  a  poniard,  at  the  Monarch's  side, 
Hangs  ready  to  be  grasped  in  sympathy 
With  the  keen  threatenings  of  that  fulgent  eye, 
Below  the  white-rimmed  bonnet,  far-descried. 
Who  trembles  now  at  thy  capricious  mood  ? 
'Mid  those  surrounding  Worthies,  haughty  King, 
We  rather  think,  with  grateful  mind  sedate, 
How  Providence  educeth,  from  the  spring 
Of  lawless  will,  unlooked-for  streams  of  good, 
Which  neither  force  shall  check  nor  time  abate  ! 


Comp.  1827.     Pub.  1827. 

WHEN  Philoctetes  in  the  Lemnian  isle  t 
Like  a  Form  sculptured  on  a  monument 
Lay  couched ;  on  him  or  his  dread  bow  unbent l 
Some  wild  Bird  oft  might  settle  and  beguile 

1  1837. 

isle 

Lay  couched  ; — upon  that  breathless  monument, 

On  him,  or  on  his  fearful  bow  unbent,  1827. 

*  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  was  founded  by  King  Henry  VIII.  in 
1546,  on  the  site  of  King's  Hall»  founded  by  Edward  III.  in  1337.  Two 
of  the  gateways  of  the  latter  remain  as  parts  of  the  great  court  of  Trinity. 
Over  one  of  these — the  King's  or  entrance  gateway — the  statue  of  Henry 
VIII.,  described  in  the  sonnet,  is  erected.— ED. 

t  The  original  title  of  this  sonnet  in  MS.  was  Suggested  by  the  same 
VII.  L 


162        WHEN  PHILOCTETES  IN  THE  LEMNIAN  ISLE. 

The  rigid  features  of  a  transient  smile, 
Disperse  the  tear,  or  to  the  sigh  give  vent, 
Slackening  the  pains  of  ruthless  banishment 
From  his  loved  home,  and  from  heroic  toil. 
And  trust1  that  spiritual  Creatures  round  us  move, 
Griefs  to  allay  which 2  Eeason  cannot  heal ; 
Yea,  veriest 3  reptiles  have  sufficed  to  prove 
To  fettered  wretchedness,  that  no  Bastile  * 
Is  deep  enough  to  exclude  the  light  of  love, 
Though  man  for  brother  man  has  ceased  to  feel. 


1  1837. 

From  home  affections,  and  heroic  toil. 

Nor  doubt 1827. 

2  1837. 

that        ....  1827. 

3  1837. 

And  very 1827. 

Incident  (referring  to  the  previous  sonnet) ;  and  its  original  form,  with  one 
line  awanting,  was  as  follows  : — 

When  Philoctetes,  in  the  Lemnian  Isle 
Reclined  with  shaggy  forehead  earthward  bent, 
Lay  silent  like  a  weed-grown  Monument, 
Such  Friend,  for  such  brief  moment  as  a  smile 
Asks  to  be  born  and  die  in,  might  beguile 
The  wounded  Chief  of  pining  discontent 
From  home  affections,  and  heroic  toil. 
Seen,  or  unseen,  beneath  us,  or  above, 
Are  Powers  that  soften  anguish,  if  not  heal ; 
Ajid  toads  and  spiders  have  sufficed  to  prove 
To  fettered  wretchedness  that  no  Bastile 
Is  deep  enough  to  exclude  the  light  of  Love, 
Though  man  for  Brother  man  have  ceased  to  feel. 

Philoctetes,  one  of  the  Argonauts,  received  from  the  dying  Hercules  his 
arrows.  Called  by  Menelaus  to  go  with  the  Greeks  to  the  Trojan  war,  he  was 
sent  to  the  island  of  Lemnos,  owing  to  a  wound  in  his  foot.  There  he  re- 
mained for  ten  years,  till  the  oracle  informed  the  Greeks  that  Troy  could 
not  be  taken  without  the  arrows  of  Hercules.  The  sonnet  refers  to  the 
legend  of  his  life  in  Lemnos. — ED. 

*  Compare  the  sonnet  To  Toussaint  I'Ouverture  (Vol.  II.  p.  295.)— ED. 


TO  THE  CUCKOO.  163 


Comp.  1827.     Pub.  1827. 

[This  is  taken  from  the  account  given  by  Miss  Jewsbury  of  the 
pleasure  she  derived,  when  long  confined  to  her  bed  by  sickness,  from 
the  inanimate  object  on  which  this  sonnet  turns.] 

WHILE  Anna's  peers  *  and  early  playmates  tread, 

In  freedom,  mountain-turf  and  river's  marge  ; 1 

Or  float  with  music  in  the  festal  barge ; 

Rein  the  proud  steed,  or  through  the  dance  are  led ; 

Her  doom  it  is  2  to  press  a  weary  bed — 

Till  oft  her  guardian  Angel,  to  some  charge 

More  urgent  called,  will  stretch  his  wings  at  large, 

And  friends  too  rarely  prop  the  languid  head. 

Yet,  helped  by  Genius — untired  comforter,3 

The  presence  even  of  a  stuffed  Owl  for  her 

Can  cheat  the  time ;  sending  her  fancy  out 

To  ivied  castles  and  to  moonlight  skies, 

Though  he  can  neither  stir  a  plume,  nor  shout ; 

Nor  veil,  with  restless  film,  his  staring  eyes. 


TO  THE  CUCKOO. 

Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

NOT  the  whole  warbling  grove  in  concert  heard 
When  sunshine  follows  shower,  the  breast  can  thrill 
Like  the  first  summons,  Cuckoo !  of  thy  bill, 

1  1837. 

While  they,  her  playmates  once,  light-hearted  tread 
The  mountain  turf  and  river's  flowery  marge  ;          1827. 
While  they,  who  once  were  Anna's  playmates,  tread 
The  mountain  turf  and  river's  flowery  marge  ;         1832. 

2  1832. 

Is  Anna  doomed        .....  1827. 

3  1837. 

Yet  genius  is  no  feeble  comforter  :  1827. 

*  Anna  Jewsbury,  afterwards  Mrs  William  Fletcher.     Compare  Liberty , 
st.  1,  and  the  note  (p.  206).— ED. 


164  THE  INFANT  M M—    — . 

With  its  twin  notes  inseparably  paired.* 

The  captive  'mid  damp  vaults  unsunned,  unaired, 

Measuring  the  periods  of  his  lonely  doom, 

That  cry  can  reach ;  and  to  the  sick  man's  room 

Sends  gladness,  by  no  languid  smile  declared. 

The  lordly  eagle-race  through  hostile  search 

May  perish ;  time  may  come  when  never  more 

The  wilderness  shall  hear  the  lion  roar ; 

But,  long  as  cock  shall  crow  from  household  perch 

To  rouse  the  dawn,  soft  gales  shall  speed  thy  wing, 

And  thy  erratic  voice  "f"  be  faithful  to  the  spring ! 


THE  INFANT  M M- 

Comp.  1827.     Pub.  1827. 

[The  infant  was  Mary  Monkhouse,f  the  only  daughter  of  my  friend 
and  cousin,  Thomas  Monkhouse.] 

UNQUIET  Childhood  here  by  special  grace 
Forgets  her  nature,  opening  like  a  flower 
That  neither  feeds  nor  wastes  its  vital  power 
In  painful  struggles.     Months  each  other  chase, 
And  nought  untunes  that  Infant's  voice ;  no  trace  1 

1  1837. 

a  trace        1827. 

*  Compare  To  the  Cuckoo— 1804—  (Vol.  III.  p.  1)— 
"  Thy  two-fold  shout  I  hear." 
Also  R.  Browning's, — 

"  We  shall  have  the  word 
In  a  minor-third 
There  is  none  but  the  cuckoo  knows." 

—(A  Lovers'  Quarrel,  st.  18.)— ED. 
t  Compare 

"  0  Cuckoo  !  shall  I  call  thee  Bird, 

Or  but  a  wandering  Voice  !  "          (Vol.  III.  p.  1.) — ED. 
Now  Mrs  Henry  Dew  of  Whitney  Rectory,  Herefordshire. — ED. 


TO  ROTHA  Q .  165 

Of  fretful  temper  sullies  her  pure  cheek ; x 

Prompt,  lively,  self-sufficing,  yet  so  meek 

That  one  enrapt  with  gazing  on  her  face 

(Which  even  the  placid  innocence  of  death 

Could  scarcely  make  more  placid,  heaven  more  bright) 

Might  learn  to  picture,  for  the  eye  of  faith, 

The  Virgin,  as  she  shone  with  kindred  light ; 

A  nursling  couched  upon  her  mother's  knee, 

Beneath  some  shady  palm  of  Galilee. 


TO  ROTHA  Q- 


Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

[Rotha,  the  daughter  of  my  son-in-law,  Mr  Quillinan.] 

ROTHA,  my  Spiritual  Child  !  this  head  was  grey 

When  at  the  sacred  font  for  thee  I  stood : 

Pledged  till  thou  reach  the  verge  of  womanhood, 

And  shalt  become  thy  own  sufficient  stay : 

Too  late,  I  feel,  sweet  Orphan !  was  the  day 

For  stedfast  hope  the  contract  to  fulfil ; 

Yet  shall  my  blessing  hover  o'er  thee  still, 

Embodied  in  the  music  of  this  Lay, 

Breathed  forth  beside  the  peaceful  mountain  Stream  * 

Whose  murmur  soothed  thy  languid  Mother's  ear 

After  her  throes,  this  Stream  of  name  more  dear 


1  1837. 

sullies  not  her  cheek  ;        1827, 

*  The  river  Rotha,  which  flows  into  Windermere  from  the  lakes  of  Gras- 
inere  and  Rydal. — ED. 


166  TO-     — ,  IN  HER  SEVENTIETH  YEAR. 

Since  tliou  dost  bear  it, — a  memorial  theme 

For  others ;  for  thy  future  self,  a  spell 

To  summon  fancies  out  of  Time's  dark  cell.* 


TO  ,  IN  HER  SEVENTIETH  YEAR.1 

[Lady  Fitzgerald,  as  described  to  me  by  Lady  Beaumont.] 
Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

SUCH  age  how  beautiful !     0  Lady  bright, 

Whose  mortal  lineaments  seem  all  refined 

By  favouring  Nature  and  a  saintly  Mind 

To  something  purer  and  more  exquisite 

Than  flesh  and  blood ;  whene'er  thou  meet'st  my  sight, 

When  I  behold  thy  blanched  unwithered  cheek, 

Thy  temples  fringed  with  locks  of  gleaming  white, 

And  head  that  droops  because  the  soul  is  meek, 

Thee  with  the  welcome  Snowdrop  I  compare ; 

That  child  of  winter,  prompting  thoughts  that  climb 

From  desolation  toward  2  the  genial  prime ; 

Or  with  the  Moon  conquering  earth's  misty  air, 

And  filling  more  and  more  with  crystal  light 

As  pensive  Evening  deepens  into  night  t 

Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

IN  my  mind's  eyes  a  Temple,  like  a  cloud 
Slowly  surmounting  some  invidious  hill, 

1  1832. 

To .  1827. 

*1832. 

towards         .        .        .  1827. 

*  Compare  the  poem  on  the  Borrowdale  Yew  Tree*. — ED. 
t  For  another  version  of  this  sonnet  see  note  A.  in  the  Appendix  to  this 
rolume. — ED. 


GO  BACK  TO  ANTIQUE  AGES,  IF  THINE  EYES.   167 

Rose  out  of  darkness  :  the  bright  Work  stood  still 

And  might  of  its  own  beauty  have  been  proud, 

But  it  was  fashioned  and  to  God  was  vowed 

By  Virtues  that  diffused,  in  every  part, 

Spirit  divine  through  forms  of  human  art : 

Faith  had  her  arch — her  arch,  when  winds  blow  loud, 

Into  the  consciousness  of  safety  thrilled ; 

And  Love  her  towers  of  dread  foundation  laid 

Under  the  grave  of  things  ;  Hope  had  her  spire 

Star-high,  and  pointing  still  to  something  higher  ; 

Trembling,  I  gazed,  but  heard  a  voice — it  said, 

"  Hell-gates  are  powerless  Phantoms  when  we  build." 


Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

Go  back  to  antique  ages,  if  thine  eyes 
The  genuine  mien  and  character  would  trace 
Of  the  rash  Spirit  that  still  holds  her  place, 
Prompting  the  world's  audacious  vanities  ! 
Go  back,  and  see l  the  Tower  of  Babel  rise ; 
The  pyramid  extend  its  monstrous  base, 
For  some  Aspirant  of  our  short-lived  race, 
Anxious  an  aery  name  to  immortalize. 
There,  too,  ere  wiles  and  politic  dispute 
Gave  specious  colouring  to  aim  and  act, 
See  the  first  mighty  Hunter  leave  the  brute — 
To  chase  mankind,  with  men  in  armies  packed 
For  his  field-pastime  high  and  absolute, 
While,  to  dislodge  his  game,  cities  are  sacked  f 


1837. 

See,  at  her  call, 


168  IN  THE  WOODS  OF  RYDAL. 

IN  THE  WOODS  OF  KYDAL* 

Comp.  1827.    —       Pub.  1827. 

WILD  Eedbreast !  t  hadst  thou  at  Jemima's  lip  I 
Pecked,  as  at  mine,  thus  boldly,  Love  might  say  * 
A  half-blown  rose  had  tempted  thee  to  sip 
Its  glistening  dews ;  but  hallowed  is  the  clay 
Which  the  Muse  warms  ;  and  I,  whose  head  is  grey,2 
Am  not  unworthy  of  thy  fellowship ; 
Nor  could  I  let  one  thought — one  motion — slip 
That  might  thy  sylvan  confidence  betray. 
For  are  we  not  all  His,  without  whose  care 
Vouchsafed  no  sparrow  falleth  to  the  ground  ? 

1  1837. 

Strange  visitation  !  at  Jemima's  lip 
Thus  hadst  thou  pecked,  wild  Rebreast !  love 
might  say.  1827. 

2  1827. 

That  the  Muse  warms ;  and  I,  though  old  and 
grey.  MS. 

*  The  original  title  (in  MS.)  was  "To  a  Redbreast."    In  the  Woods  of 
Rydal  was  added  in  1836. — ED. 

t  This  Sonnet,  as  Poetry,  explains  itself,  yet  the  scene  of  the  incident 
having  been  a  wild  wood,  it  may  be  doubted,  as  a  point  of  natural  history, 
whether  the  bird  was  aware  that  his  attentions  were  bestowed  upon  a 
human,  or  even  a  living  creature.  But  a  Redbreast  will  perch  upon  the 
foot  of  a  gardener  at  work,  and  alight  on  the  handle  of  the  spade  when  his 
hand  is  half  upon  it, — this  I  have  seen.  And  under  my  own  roof  I  have 
witnessed  affecting  instances  of  the  creature's  friendly  visits  to  the  chambers 
of  sick  persons,  as  described  in  the  verses  to  the  Redbreast.  One  of 
these  welcome  intruders  used  frequently  to  roost  upon  a  nail  in  the  wall, 
from  which  a  picture  had  hung,  and  was  ready,  as  morning  came,  to  pipe 
his  song  in  the  hearing  of  the  Invalid,  who  had  been  long  confined  to  her 
room.  These  attachments  to  a  particular  person,  when  marked  and  con- 
tinued, used  to  be  reckoned  ominous  ;  but  the  superstition  is  passing  away. 
— W.  W.,  1827. 

J  Jemima  Quillinan. — ED. 

§  Compare  the  Ancient  Mariner,  Part  VII.,  st.  23.— ED. 


CONCLUSION.  169 

Who  gives  his  Angels  wings  to  speed  through  air, 
And  rolls  the  planets  through  the  blue  profound ; 
Then  peck  or  perch,  fond  Flutterer  !  nor  forbear 
To  trust  a  Poet  in  still  musings  bound.1 


CONCLUSION. 

TO  .* 

Comp.  1827.    Pub.  1827. 

IF  these  brief  Eecords,  by  the  Muses'  art 
Produced  as  lonely  Nature  or  the  strife 
That  animates  the  scenes  of  public  life  t 
Inspired,  may  in  thy  leisure  claim  a  part ; 
And  if  these  Transcripts  of  the  private  heart 
Have  gained  a  sanction  from  thy  falling  tears ; 
Then  I  repent  not.     But  my  soul  hath  fears 
Breathed  from  eternity ;  for  as  a  dart 
Cleaves  the  blank  air,  Life  flies :  now  every  day 
Is  but  a  glimmering  spoke  in  the  swift  wheel 
Of  the  revolving  week.     Away,  away, 
All  fitful  cares,  all  transitory  zeal ! 
So  timely  Grace  the  immortal  wing  may  heal, 
And  honour  rest  upon  the  senseless  clay. 

1  issr. 

vision  bound.  1827. 

*  To  whom  the  Dedication  of  these  sonnets  in  1827  (p.  154),  and  the 
Conclusion  (p.  169),  were  addressed,  it  is  perhaps  impossible  to  determine. 
I  incline  to  the  belief  that  the  series  was  dedicated  to  his  sister,  and  that 
the  concluding  sonnet  was  inscribed  to  his  daughter. — ED. 

t  This  line  alludes  to  Sonnets  which  will  be  found  in  another  Class. — 
W.  W.,  1827.  He  refers  to  the  Sonnets  on  Liberty,  &c.— ED. 


170  A  JEWISH  FAMILY. 


1828. 

The  poems  belonging  to  1828  include  two  short  pieces,  suggested 
during  the  fortnight  which  Wordsworth  spent  on  the  Ehine  with  his 
daughter  and  S.  T.  Coleridge  in  that  year,  The  Morning  Exercise,  The 
Triad,  the  two  on  The  Fishing-Gate,  The  Gleaner,  and  the  ode  on  The 
Power  of  Sound. 


A  JEWISH  FAMILY. 

(IN  A  SMALL  VALLEY  OPPOSITE  ST  GOAR,  UPON  THE  RHINE.) 

Comp.  1828.    Pub.  1835. 

[Coleridge,  my  daughter,  and  I,  in  1828,  passed  a  fortnight  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Khine,  principally  under  the  hospitable  roof  of  Mr  Aders 
of  Gotesburg,  but  two  days  of  the  time  we  spent  at  St  Goar  in  rambles 
among  the  neighbouring  valleys.  It  was  at  St  Goar  that  I  saw  the 
Jewish  family  here  described.  Though  exceedingly  poor,  and  in  rags, 
they  were  not  less  beautiful  than  I  have  endeavoured  to  make  them 
appear.  We  had  taken  a  little  dinner  with  us  in  a  basket,  and  invited 
them  to  partake  of  it,  which  the  mother  refused  to  do,  both  for  herself 
and  children,  saying  it  was  with  them  a  fast-day  ;  adding,  diffidently, 
that  whether  such  observances  were  right  or  wrong,  she  felt  it  her 
duty  to  keep  them  strictly.  The  Jews,  who  are  numerous  on  this  part 
of  the  Rhine,  greatly  surpass  the  German  peasantry  in  the  beauty  of 
their  features  and  in  the  intelligence  of  their  countenances.  But  the 
lower  classes  of  the  German  peasantry  have,  here  at  least,  the  air  of 
people  grievously  opprest.  Nursing  mothers,  at  the  age  of  seven  or 
eight-and-twenty,  often  look  haggard  and  far  more  decayed  and 
withered  than  women  of  Cumberland  and  Westmoreland  twice  their 
age.  This  comes  from  being  under-fed  and  over- worked  in  their  vine- 
yards in  a  hot  and  glaring  sun.] 

GENIUS  of  Raphael !  if  thy  wings 

Might  bear  thee  to  this  glen, 
With  faithful  memory  left  of  things  l 

To  pencil  dear  and  pen, 

1  1835. 

With  memory  left  of  shapes  and  things 

MS.  Letter  of  Dorsthy  Wordsworth. 


A  JEWISH  FAMILY.  171 

Thou  would'st  forego  the  neighbouring  Rhine, 

And  all  his  majesty — 
A  studious  forehead  to  incline 

O'er  this  poor  family.1 

The  Mother — her  thou  must  have  seen, 

In  spirit,  ere  she  came 
To  dwell  these  rifted  rocks  between, 

Or  found  on  earth  a  name ; 
An  image,  too,  of  that  sweet  Boy,2 

Thy  inspirations  give — 
Of  playfulness,  and  love,  and  joy,3 

Predestined  here  to  live. 

Downcast,  or  shooting  glances  far, 

How  beautiful  his  eyes, 
That  blend  the  nature  of  the  star 

With  that  of  summer  skies ! 
I  speak  as  if  of  sense  beguiled ; 

Uncounted  months  are  gone, 
Yet  am  I  with  the  Jewish  Child, 

That  exquisite  Saint  John. 

I  see  the  dark-brown  curls,  the  brow, 

The  smooth  transparent  skin, 
Uefined,  as  with  intent  to  show 

The  holiness  within ; 

1  1835. 

On  this  poor          .          .  MS.  copy  by  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

2  1835. 

this  sweet  Boy, 

MS.  Letter  of  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

3  1835. 

In  playfulness, 

MS.  Letter  of  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 


172  A  JEWISH  FAMILY. 

The  grace  of  parting  Infancy 

By  blushes  yet  untamed ; 
Age  faithful  to  the  mother's  knee, 

Nor  of  her  arms  ashamed. 

Two  lovely  Sisters,  still  and  sweet 

As  flowers,  stand  side  by  side ; 
Their  soul-subduing  looks  might  cheat l 

The  Christian  of  his  pride : 
Such  beauty  hath  the  Eternal  poured 

Upon  them  not  forlorn,2 
Though  of  a  lineage  once  abhorred, 

Nor  yet  redeemed  from  scorn. 

Mysterious  safeguard,  that,  in  spite 

Of  poverty  and  wrong, 
Doth  here  preserve  a  living  light, 

From  Hebrew  fountains  sprung ; 
That  gives  this  ragged  group  to  cast 

Around  the  dell  a  gleam 
Of  Palestine,  of  glory  past, 

And  proud  Jerusalem ! 

1  1835. 

Fair  Creatures,  in  this  lone  retreat 

By  happy  chance  espied, 
Your  soul-subduing  looks 

MS.  Letter  of  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

2  1835. 

Upon  you— not  forlorn,  MS.  Letter  of  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

The  title  given  to  this  poem  by  Dorothy  Wordsworth,  in  the  letter 
to  Lady  Beaumont  in  which  the  different  MS.  readings  occur,  is  "  A 
Jewish  Family,  met  with  in  a  Dingle  near  the  Khine."  During  the 
Continental  Tour  of  1820, — in  which  Wordsworth  was  accompanied  by 
his  wife  and  sister  and  other  friends, — they  went  up  the  Ehine  (see 
notes  to  the  poems  recording  that  Tour),  and  an  extract  from  Mrs 
Wordsworth's  Journal,  in  reference  to  the  road  from  St  Goar  to  Bingen, 
may  illustrate  this  poem,  written  in  1828.  "From  St  Goar  to  Bingen, 
castles  commanding  innumerable  small  fortified  villages.  Nothing  could 
exceed  the  delightful  variety,  and  at  first  the  postilions  whisked  us  too 


INCIDENT  AT  BRUGES.  173 

fast  through  these  scenes  ;  and  afterwards,  the  same  variety  so  often 
repeated,  we  became  quite  exhausted,  at  least  D.  and  I  were  ;  and, 
beautiful  as  the  road  continued  to  be,  we  could  scarcely  keep  our  eyes 
open ;  but,  on  my  being  roused  from  one  of  these  slumbers,  no  eye 
wide-awake  ever  beheld  such  celestial  pictures  as  gleamed  before  mine, 
like  visions  belonging  to  dreams.  The  castles  seemed  now  almost 
stationary,  a  continued  succession  always  in  sight,  rarely  without  two  or 
three  before  us  at  once.  There  they  rose  from  the  craggy  cliffs,  out  of  the 
centre  of  the  stately  river,  from  a  green  island,  or  a  craggy  rock,  &c.,  &c." 
In  Dorothy  Wordsworth's  record  of  the  same  Tour,  the  following 
occurs  : — "  July  24.  —We  looked  down  into  one  of  the  vales  tributary 
to  the  Ehine,  which,  in  memory  of  the  mountain  recesses  of  Ullswater,  I 
named  Deep-dale,  a  green  quiet  place,  spotted  with  villages  and  single 
houses,  and  enlivened  by  a  sinuous  brook."  ..."  A  lovely  dell  runs 
behind  one  of  these  hills.  At  its  opening,  where  it  pours  out  its 
stream  into  the  Ehine,  we  espied  a  one-arched  Borrowdale  bridge  ;  and, 
behind  the  bridge,  a  village  almost  buried  between  the  abruptly  rising 
steeps."— ED. 


INCIDENT    AT    BRUGES. 

Comp.  1828. Pub.  1835. 

[This  occurred  at  Bruges  in  1828.  Mrs  Coleridge,  my  daughter,  and 
I  made  a  tour  together  in  Flanders,  upon  the  Ehine,  and  returned  by 
Holland.  Dora  and  I,  while  taking  a  walk  along  a  retired  part  of  the 
town,  heard  the  voice  as  here  described,  and  were  afterwards  informed 
it  was  a  convent  in  which  were  many  English.  We  were  both  much 
touched,  I  might  say  affected,  and  Dora  moved  as  appears  in  the 
verses.] 

IN  Bruges  town  is  many  a  street 

Whence  busy  life  hath  fled  j1 
Where,  without  hurry,  noiseless  feet, 

The  grass-grown  pavement  tread. 
There  heard  we,  halting  in  the  shade 

Flung  from  a  Convent-tower, 
A  harp  that  tuneful  prelude  made 

To  a  voice  of  thrilling  power.2 

1  1835. 

Whence  busy  life  is  fled,  MS.  copy  by  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

2  1835. 

To  a  voice  like  bird  in  bower.  MS.,  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

birds  .  .  MS.,  Mrs  Wordsworth. 


174  INCIDENT  AT  BRUGES. 

The  measure,  simple  truth  to  tell, 

Was  fit  for  some  gay  throng ; 
Though  from  the  same  grim  turret  fell 

The  shadow  and  the  song. 
When  silent  were  both  voice  and  chords, 

The  strain  seemed  doubly  dear, 
Yet  sad  as  sweet,  for  English  words 

Had  fallen  upon  the  ear.1 

It  was  a  breezy  hour  of  eve ; 

And  pinnacle  and  spire2 
Quivered  and  seemed  almost  to  heave, 

Clothed  with  innocuous  fire ; 
But,  where  we  stood,  the  setting  sun 

Showed  little  of  his  state ; 
And,  if  the  glory  reached  the  Nun, 

'Twas  through  an  iron  grate. 

Not  always  is  the  heart  unwise,3 

Nor  pity  idly  born, 
If  even  a  passing  Stranger  sighs4 

For  them  who  do  not  mourn. 

1  1835. 

Like  them  who  think  they  hear, 

We  listened  still ;  for  English  words 

Had  dropped  upon  the  ear.  MS.,  Mrs  Wordsworth. 

The  strain  seemed  doubly  dear, 

Yea  passing  sweet — for  English  words 

Had  dropt  upon  the  ear.  MS.,  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

2  1835. 

When  pinnacle  and  spire,  MS.,  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

3  1835. 

The  restless  heart  is  not  unwise,     MS.,  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

4  1835. 

When  even  a  passing        .        .       MS.,  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 


A  MORNING  EXERCISE.  1*75 

Sad  is  thy  doom,  self-solaced  dove, 

Captive,  whoe'er  thou  be  I1 
Oh  !  what  is  beauty,  what  is  love, 

And  opening  life  to  thee  ? 

Such  feeling  pressed  upon  my  soul, 

A  feeling  sanctified 
By  one  soft  trickling  tear  that  stole 

From  the  Maiden  at  my  side ; 
Less  tribute  could  she  pay  than  this, 

Borne  gaily  o'er  the  sea, 
Fresh  from  the  beauty  and  the  bliss 

Of  English  liberty  ? 

In  the  final  arrangement  of  the  poems,  this  one  was  published 
amongst  the  Memorials  of  a  Tour  in  the  Continent  (1820),  where  it 
followed  the  two  sonnets  on  Bruges.  The  poems  suggested  by  the 
shorter  Tour  of  1828  are  here  published  together,  in  their  chronological 
place. 

In  an  undated  letter  of  Dorothy  Wordsworth's  to  Lady  Beaumont, 
before  copying  out  this  poem  and  the  Jewish  Family,  she  says,  "  The 
two  following  poems  were  taken  from  incidents  recorded  in  Dora's 
journal  of  her  tour  with  her  father  and  S.  T.  Coleridge.  As  I  well 
recollect,  she  has  related  the  incidents  very  pleasingly,  and  I  hope  you 
will  agree  with  me  in  thinking  that  the  poet  has  made  good  use  of 
them."— ED. 


A  MORNING  EXERCISE. 

Comp.  1828.     Pub.  1832. 

[Written  at  Eydal  Mount.     I  could  wish  the  last  five  stanzas  of  this 
to  be  read  with  the  poem  addressed  to  the  skylark.] 

FANCY,  who  leads  the  pastimes  of  the  glad, 
Full  oft  is  pleased  a  wayward  dart  to  throw ; 
Sending  sad  shadows  after  things  not  sad, 
Peopling  the  harmless  fields  with  signs  of  woe : 

1  1832. 

Sad  is  thy  doom,  imprisoned  dove, 

Whoe'er  thou  mayest  be.  MS.,  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 


176  A  MORNING  EXERCISE. 

Beneath  her  sway,  a  simple  forest  cry 
Becomes  an  echo  of  man's  misery. 

Blithe  ravens  croak  of  death ;  and  when  the  owl 
Tries  his  two  voices  for  a  favourite  strain — 
Tu-whit — tu-whoo  I  the  unsuspecting  fowl 
Forebodes  mishap  or  seems  but  to  complain ; 
Fancy,  intent  to  harass  and  annoy, 
Can  thus  pervert  the  evidence  of  joy. 

Through  border  wilds  where  naked  Indians  stray, 
Myriads  of  notes  attest  her  subtle  skill ; 
A  feathered  task-master  cries,  "  WORK  AWAY!" 
And,  in  thy  iteration,  "  WHIP  POOR  WILL  ! "  * 
Is  heard  the  spirit  of  a  toil-worn  slave, 
Lashed  out  of  life,  not  quiet  in  the  grave. 

What  wonder  ?  at  her  bidding,  ancient  lays 
Steeped  in  dire  grief  the  voice  of  Philomel ; 
And  that  fleet  messenger  of  summer  days, 
The  Swallow,  twittered  subject  to  like  spell ; 
But  ne'er  could  Fancy  bend  the  buoyant  Lark 
To  melancholy  service — hark  !  O  hark  ! 

The  daisy  sleeps  upon  the  dewy  lawn, 
Not  lifting  yet  the  head  that  evening  bowed; 
But  He  is  risen,  a  later  star  of  dawn, 
Glittering  and  twinkling  near  yon  rosy  cloud ; 

*  See  Waterton's  Wanderings  in  Sonth  America. — W.  W.  Compare  the 
reference  to  the  "Melancholy  Muccawis"  in  The  Excursion,  Book  III., 
1.  953  (Vol.  V.  p.  142),  and  the  notes  p.  142,  and  appendix  notes  E  and  L,  pp. 
417-419  and  434.  When  these  notes  were  written, — and  the  search  made  by 
myself  and  several  friends,  both  in  England  and  America,  for  the  Muccawis, 
— I  had  forgotten  this  reference  to  "Whip-poor- Will"  in  the  Morning 
Exercise.  Its  remembrance  would  have  saved  much  long  and  fruitless 
labour. — ED. 


A  MORNING  EXERCISE.  177 

Bright  gem  instinct  with  music,  vocal  spark ; 
The  happiest  bird  that  sprang  out  of  the  Ark  ! 

Hail,  blest  above  all  kinds  f — Supremely  skilled 
Restless  with  fixed  to  balance,  high  with  low, 
Thou  leav'st  the  halcyon  free  her  hopes  to  build 
On  such  forbearance  as  the  deep  may  show ; 
Perpetual  flight,  unchecked  by  earthly  ties, 
Leav'st  to  the  wandering  bird  of  paradise. 

Faithful,  though  swift  as  lightning,  the  meek  dove ; 
Yet  more  hath  Nature  reconciled  in  thee ; 
So  constant  with  thy  downward  eye  of  love, 
Yet,  in  aerial  singleness,  so  free ;  * 
So  humble,  yet  so  ready  to  rejoice 
In  power  of  wing  and  never-wearied  voice.! 

To  the  last  point  of  vision,  and  beyond, 
Mount,  daring  warbler ! — that  love-prompted  strain, 
('Twixt  thee  and  thine  a  never-failing  bond) 
Thrills  not  the  less  the  bosom  of  the  plain : 
Yet  might'st  thou  seem,  proud  privilege!  to  sing 
All  independent  of  the  leafy  spring.  J 

How  would  it  please  old  Ocean  to  partake, 
With  sailors  longing  for  a  breeze  in  vain, 
The  harmony  thy  notes  most  gladly  make l 

1  1836. 

The  harmony  that  thou  best  lovest  to  make  1832. 

*  Compare  the  poem  of  1825  to  the  Skylark— 

"  Type  of  the  wise  who  soar  but  never  roam, 

True  to  the  kindred  points  of  Heaven  and  home  "       —ED. 
t  Compare 

"  And  singing  still  dost  soar,  and  soaring  ever  singest." 

—SHELLEY,  Ode  to  the  Skylark,  stanza  2.— ED. 

£  This  stanza  was  transferred  from  the  sonnet  "  To  a  Skylark  "  in  1845. 
See  p.  140.— ED. 

VII.  M 


178  THE  TRIAD. 

Where  earth  resembles  most  his  own  domain  ! l 
Urania's  self  *  might  welcome  with  pleased  ear 
These  matins  mounting  towards  her  native  sphere. 

Chanter  by  heaven  attracted,  whom  no  bars 
To  daylight  known  deter  from  that  pursuit, 
'Tis  well  that  some  sage  instinct,  when  the  stars 
Come  forth  at  evening,  keeps  Thee  still  and  mute ; 
For  not  an  eyelid  could  to  sleep  incline 
Wert  thou  among  them,  singing  as  they  shine ! 


THE  TEIAD. 

Comp.  1828.     Pub.  1829. 

[Written  at  Rydal  Mount.     The  girls,  Edith  Southey,  my  daughter 
Dora,  and  Sara  Coleridge.] 

SHOW  me  the  noblest  Youth  of  present  time, 

Whose  trembling  fancy  would  to  love  give  birth ; 

Some  God  or  Hero,  from  the  Olympian  clime 

Returned,  to  seek  a  Consort  upon  earth  ; 

Or,  in  no  doubtful  prospect,  let  me  see 

The  brightest  star  of  ages  yet  to  be, 

And  I  will  mate  and  match  him  blissfully. 

I  will  not  fetch  a  Naiad  from  a  flood 
Pure  as  herself — (song  lacks  not  mightier  power) 
Nor  leaf-crowned  Dryad  from  a  pathless  wood, 
Nor  Sea-nymph  glistening  from  her  coral  bower ; 
Mere  Mortals,  bodied  forth  in  vision  still, 

1  1836. 

his  blank  domain  !  1832. 

*  The  muse  who  presided  over  astronomy. — ED. 


THE  TRIAD.  179 

Shall  with  Mount  Ida's  triple  lustre  fill  * 
The  chaster  coverts  of  a  British  hill. 

"  Appear  ! — obey  my  lyre's  command  ! 
Come,  like  the  Graces,  hand  in  hand  !  t 
For  ye,  though  not  by  birth  allied, 
Are  Sisters  in  the  bond  of  love ; 
Nor  shall  the  tongue  of  envious  pride 
Presume  those  interweavings  to  reprove 
In  you,  which  that  fair  progeny  of  Jove,  t 
Learned  l  from  the  tuneful  spheres  that  glide 
In  endless  union,  earth  and  sea  above." 
— I  sing  2  in  vain  ; — the  pines  have  hushed  their  waving  : 
A  peerless  Youth  expectant  at  my  side, 
Breathless  as  they,  with  unabated  craving 
Looks  to  the  earth,  and  to  the  vacant  air ; 
And,  with  a  wandering  eye  that  seems  to  chide, 
Asks  of  the  clouds  what  occupants  they  hide : — 
But  why  solicit  more  than  sight  could  bear, 
By  casting  on  a  moment  all  we  dare  ? 
Invoke  we  those  bright  Beings  one  by  one ; 
And  what  was  boldly  promised,  truly  shall  be  done. 

1  1836. 

And  not  the  boldest  tongue  of  envious  pride 

In  you.  those  interweavings  could  reprove 

Which  they,  the  progency  of  Jove, 

Learnt        .         .         .         .  •  .         .  1829. 

2  1836. 

— I  speak  .......  1829. 

*  The  Phrygian  Ida  was  a  many-branched  range  of  mountains  ;  two  sub- 
ordinate ranges,  parting  from  the  principal  summit,  enclosed  Troy  as  with  a 
crescent.  The  Cretan  Ida  terminated  in  three  snowy  peaks.  There  may 
be  a  reference  to  Skiddaw's  triple  summit  in  the  "  British  hill." — ED. 

t  The  Charites — Aglaia,  Thalia,  and  Euphrosyne— were  usually  repre- 
sented with  hands  joined,  as  token  of  graciousness  and  friendship.— ED. 

J  They  were  the  daughters  of  Zeus,  and  were  commonly  represented  as 
embracing  each  other.— ED. 


180  THE  TRIAD. 

"  Fear  not  a  constraining  measure  ! 
— Yielding  to  this  gentle  spell,1 
Lucida  !  *  from  domes  of  pleasure, 
Or  from  cottage-sprinkled  dell, 
Come  to  regions  solitary, 
Where  the  eagle  builds  her  aery, 
Above  the  hermit's  long-forsaken  cell  ! " 
— She  comes  ! — behold 

That  Figure,  like  a  ship  with  snow-white  sail !  2 
Nearer  she  draws  ;  a  breeze  uplifts  her  veil ; 
Upon  her  coming  wait 
As  pure  a  sunshine  and  as  soft  a  gale 
As  e'er,  on  herbage  covering  earthly  mold, 
Tempted  the  bird  of  Juno  t  to  unfold 
His  richest  splendour — when  his  veering  gait 
And  every  motion  of  his  starry  train 
Seem  governed  by  a  strain 
Of  music,  audible  to  him  alone. 

"  0  Lady,  worthy  of  earth's  proudest  throne  ! 
Nor  less,  by  excellence  of  nature,  fit 
Beside  an  unambitious  hearth  to  sit 
Domestic  queen,  where  grandeur  is  unknown ; 
What  living  man  could  fear 
The  worst  of  Fortune's  malice,  wert  Thou  near, 
Humbling  that  lily-stem,  thy  sceptre  meek, 
That  its  fair  flowers  may  from  his  cheek 


1  1836. 

this  constraining  measure  ! 
Drawn  by  a  poetic  spell,  1829. 

2  1845. 

....  with  silver  sail  !  1832. 

*  Edith  Southey.— ED.  t  The  peacock.— ED. 


THE  TRIAD.  181 

Brush  the  too  happy  tear  ? l 

Queen,  and  handmaid  lowly  ! 

Whose  skill  can  speed  the  day  with  lively  cares, 

And  banish  melancholy 

By  all  that  mind  invents  or  hand  prepares  ; 

O  Thou,  against  whose  lip,  without  its  smile 

And  in  its  silence  even,  no  heart  is  proof  ; 

Whose  goodness,  sinking  deep,  would  reconcile 

The  softest  Nursling  of  a  gorgeous  palace 

To  the  bare  life  beneath  the  hawthorn-roof 

Of  Sherwood's  Archer,*  or  in  caves  of  Wallace — 

Who  that  hath  seen  thy  beauty  could  content 

His  soul  with  but  a  glimpse  of  heavenly  day  ? 

Who  that  hath  loved  thee,  but  would  lay 

His  strong  hand  on  the  wind,  if  it  were  bent 

To  take  thee  in  thy  majesty  away  ? 

— Pass  onward  (even  the  glancing  deer 

Till  we  depart  intrude  not  here ;) 

That  mossy  slope,  o'er  which  the  woodbine  throws 

A  canopy,  is  smoothed  for  thy  repose ! " 

Glad  moment  is  it  when  the  throng 

Of  warblers  in  full  concert  strong 

Strive,  and  not  vainly  strive,  to  rout 

The  lagging  shower,  and  force  coy  Phcebus  out. 

Met  by  the  rainbow's  form  divine, 

Issuing  from  her  cloudy  shrine ; — 

So  may  the  thrillings  of  the  lyre 

Prevail  to  further  our  desire, 

While  to  these  shades  a  sister  Nymph  I  call. 

1  1845. 

may  brush  from  off  his  cheek 
The  too,  too  happy  tear !  1832. 

*  Robin  Hood.— ED. 


182  THE  TRIAD. 

"  Come,  if  the  notes  thine  ear  may  pierce, 
Come,  youngest  of  the  lovely  Three,* 
Submissive  to  the  might  of  verse 
And  the  dear  voice  of  harmony, 
By  none  l  more  deeply  felt  than  Thee  ! " 
— I  sang  ;  and  lo  !  from  pastimes  virginal 
She  hastens  to  the  tents 
Of  nature,  and  the  lonely  elements. 
Air  sparkles  round  her  with  a  dazzling  sheen ; 
But 2  mark  her  glowing  cheek,  her  vesture  green ! 

And,  as  if  wishful  to  disarm 

Or  to  repay  the  potent  Charm, 

She  bears  the  stringed  lute  of  old  romance, 

That  cheered  the  trellised  arbour's  privacy, 

And  soothed  war-wearied  knights  in  raftered  hall. 

How  vivid,  yet 3  how  delicate,  her  glee ! 

So  tripped  the  Muse,  inventress  of  the  dance ; 

So,  truant  in  waste  woods,  the  blithe  Euphrosyne !  t 

But  the  ringlets  of  that  head 
Why  are  they  ungarlanded  ? 

1  1836. 

a  Nymph  I  call, 

The  youngest  of  the  lovely  Three. — 
*'  Come,  if  the  notes  thine  ear  may  pierce, 
Submissive  to  the  might  of  verse, 
By  none        ......  1829. 


2  1836. 

And   

1829. 

3  1836. 

1829. 

*  Dora  Wordsworth.— ED. 

t  "  Thou  goddess  fair  and  free, 

In  Heaven  ycleped  Euphrosyne, 

And  by  men  heart- easing  mirth." 

—Milton,  L' Allegro,  11-13.— ED. 


THE  TKIAD.  183 

Why  bedeck  her  temples  less 

Than  the  simplest  shepherdess  ? 

Is  it  not  a  brow  inviting 

Choicest  flowers l  that  ever  breathed, 

Which  the  myrtle  would  delight  in 

With  Idalian  rose  enwreathed  ? 

But  her  humility  is  well  content 

With  one  wild  floweret  (call  it  not  forlorn) 

FLOWER  OF  THE  WINDS,*  beneath  her  bosom  worn — 

Yet 2  more  for  love  than  ornament. 

Open,  ye  thickets  !  let  her  fly, 

Swift  as  a  Thracian  Nymph  o'er  field  and  height ! 

For  She,  to  all  but  those  who  love  her,  shy, 

Would  gladly  vanish  from  a  Stranger's  sight ; 

Though  where  she  is  beloved  and  loves, 

Light  as  the  wheeling  butterfly  she  moves ; 

Her  happy  spirit  as  a  bird  is  free, 

That  rifles  blossoms  on  a  tree,3 

Turning  them  inside  out  with  arch  audacity. 

Alas !  how  little  can  a  moment  show 

Of  an  eye  where  feeling  plays 

In  ten  thousand  dewy  rays ; 

A  face  o'er  which  a  thousand  shadows  go ! 

— She  stops — is  fastened  to  that  rivulet's  side ; 

And  there  (while,  with  sedater  mien, 

O'er  timid  waters  that  have  scarcely  left 

Their  birth-place  in  the  rocky  cleft 

1832. 

Choicest  flower 1829. 

1836. 

Yet  is  it 1829. 

1336. 

She  is  beloved  and  loves,  as  free 

As  bird  that  rifles  blossoms  on  a  tree,  1829. 

*  The  wild  anemone. — ED.  - 


184  THE  TRIAD. 

She  bends)  at  leisure  may  be  seen 
Features  to  old  ideal  grace  allied,* 
Amid  their  smiles  and  dimples  dignified — 
Fit  countenance  for  the  soul  of  primal  truth ; 
The  bland  composure  of  eternal  youth  I 

What  more  changeful  than  the  sea  ? 

But  over  his  great  tides 

Fidelity  presides ; 

And  this  light-hearted  Maiden  constant  is  as  ha 

High  is  her  aim  as  heaven  above, 

And  wide  as  ether  her  good-will ; 

And,  like  the  lowly  reed,  her  love 

Can  drink  its  nurture  from  the  scantiest  rill : 

Insight  as  keen  as  frosty  star 

Is  to  her  charity  no  bar, 

Nor  interrupts  her  frolic  graces 

When  she  is,  far  from  these  wild  places, 

Encircled  by  familiar  faces. 

0  the  charm  that  manners  draw, 
Nature,  from  thy  genuine  law  ! l 
If  from  what  her  hand  would  do, 
Her  voice  would  utter,  aught  ensue 
Untoward  2  or  unfit ; 
She,  in  benign  affections  pure, 
In  self-forgetfulness  secure, 

1  1845. 

the  genuine  law.  1336. 

2  1845. 

,  there  ensue 

Aught  untoward       .         .        .  1832. 

*  According  to  Sarah  Coleridge  this  was  an  allusion  to  a  likeness  supposed 
to  have  been  found  in  the  poet's  daughter's  countenance  to  the  Memnon 
Head  in  the  British  Museum.  See  Sarah  Coleridge's  Memoirs,  ii.  p.  410. 
—ED. 


THE  TRIAD.  185 

Sheds  round  the  transient  harm  or  vague  mischance 
A  light  unknown  to  tutored  elegance : * 

Hers  is  not  a  cheek  shame-stricken, 

But  her  blushes  are  joy-flushes ; 

And  the  fault  (if  fault  it  be) 

Only  ministers  to  quicken 

Laughter-loving  gaiety, 

And  kindle  sportive  wit — 

Leaving  this  Daughter  of  the  mountains  free 

As  if  she  knew  that  Oberon  king  of  Faery  2 

Had  crossed  her  purpose  with  some  quaint  vagary, 

And  heard  his  viewless  bands 

Over  their  mirthful  triumph  clapping  hands. 

"  Last  of  the  Three,  though  eldest  born,* 
Eeveal  thyself,  like  pensive  Morn 
Touched  by  the  skylark's  earliest  note, 
Ere  humbler  gladness  be  afloat. 
But  whether  in  the  semblance  drest 
Of  Dawn — or  Eve,  fair  vision  of  the  west, 
Come  with  each  anxious  hope  subdued 
By  woman's  gentle  fortitude, 
Each  grief,  through  meekness,  settling  into  rest. 
— Or  I  would  hail  thee  when  some  high- wrought  page 

1832. 

Nature,  from  thy  perfect  law  ! 

Through  benign  affections  pure 

In  the  light  of  self  secure, 

If  from  what  her  hand  would  do 

Or  tongue  utter,  there  ensue 

Aught  untoward  or  unfit 

Transient  mischief,  vague  mischance 

Shunned  by  guarded  elegance.  1829. 

1832. 

that  Oberon  the  fairy.  1829. 

*  Sarah  Coleridge.— ED. 


186  THE  TRIAD. 

Of  a  closed  volume  lingering  in  thy  hand 

Has  raised  thy  spirit  to  a  peaceful  stand 

Among  the  glories  of  a  happier  age." 

Her  brow  hath  opened  on  me — see  it  there, 

Brightening  the  umbrage  of  her  hair  ; 

So  gleams  the  crescent  moon,  that  loves 

To  be  descried  through  shady  groves. 

Tenderest  bloom  is  on  her  cheek ; 

Wish  not  for  a  richer  streak ; 

Nor  dread  the  depth  of  meditative  eye ; 

But  let  thy  love,  upon  that  azure  field 

Of  thoughtfulness  and  beauty,  yield 

Its  homage  offered  up  in  purity. 

What  would'st  thou  more  ?     In  sunny  glade, 

Or  under  leaves  of  thickest  shade, 

Was  such  a  stillness  e'er  diffused 

Since  earth  grew  calm  while  angels  mused  ? 

Softly  she  treads,  as  if  her  foot  were  loth 

To  crush  the  mountain  dew-drops — soon  to  melt 

On  the  flower's  breast ;  as  if  she  felt 

That  flowers  themselves,  whate'er  their  hue, 

With  all  their  fragrance,  all  their  glistening, 

Call  to  the  heart  for  inward  listening — 

And  though  for  bridal  wreaths  and  tokens  true 

Welcomed  wisely ;  though  a  growth 

Which  the  careless  shepherd  sleeps  on 

As  fitly  spring  from  turf  the  mourner  weeps  on — 

And  without  wrong  are  cropped  the  marble  tomb  to  strew. 

The  Charm  is  over  ;*  the  mute  Phantoms  gone, 

Nor  will  return — but  droop  not,  favoured  Youth ; 

The  apparition  that  before  thee  shone 

Obeyed  a  summons  covetous  of  truth. 

*  Compare 

"The  charm  is  fled." 

The  Wishing-Gate  destroyed,  st.  4.— ED. 


THE  WISHING-GATE.  187 

From  these  wild  rocks  thy  footsteps  I  will  guide 

To  bowers  in  which  thy  fortune  may  be  tried, 

And  one  of  the  bright  Three  become  thy  happy  Bride. 

The  Triad  was  first  published  in  The  Keepsake,  in  1829,  and  next  in 
the  1832  edition  of  the  Poems.  See  the  criticism  passed  upon  it  by  one 
of  the  three  described  in  it,  viz.,  Sarah  Coleridge,  in  her  Memoirs,  Vol. 
II.  pp.  409-10.— ED. 


THE  WISHING-GATE. 

Comp.  1828.  Pub.  1829. 

[Written  at  Kydal  Mount.     See  also  "  Wishing-gate  destroyed."] 
In  the  vale  of  Grasmere,  by  the  side  of  the  old  high-way  leading  to 
Ambleside,  is  a  gate,  which,  time  out  of  mind,  has  been  called  the 
Wishing-gate,  from  a  belief  that  wishes  formed  or  indulged  there  have 
a  favourable  issue.* 

HOPE  rules  a  land  for  ever  green : 

All  powers  that  serve  the  bright-eyed  Queen 

Are  confident  and  gay ; 
Clouds  at  her  bidding  disappear 
Points  she  to  aught  ? — the  bliss  draws  near, 

And  Fancy  smooths  the  way. 

Not  such  the  land  of  Wishes — there 
Dwell  fruitless  day-dreams,  lawless  prayer, 

And  thoughts  with  things  at  strife ; 
Yet  how  forlorn,  should  ye  depart, 
Ye  superstitions  of  the  heart, 

How  poor,  were  human  life  ! 

When  magic  lore  abjured  its  might, 
Ye  did  not  forfeit  one  dear  right, 
One  tender  claim  abate  ; 

*  Having  been  told,  upon  what  I  thought  good  authority,  that  this  gate 
had  been  destroyed,  and  the  opening  where  it  hung,  walled  up,  I  gave  vent 
immediately  to  my  feelings  in  these  stanzas.  But  going  to  the  place  some 
time  after,  I  found  with  much  delight,  my  old  favourite  unmolested. — 
W.  W.,  1832. 


188  THE  WISHING-GATE. 

Witness  this  symbol  of  your  sway, 
Surviving  near  the  public  way, 
The  rustic  Wishing-gate ! 

Inquire  not  if  the  faery  race 
Shed  kindly  influence  on  the  place, 

Ere  northward  they  retired ; 
If  here  a  warrior  left  a  spell, 
Panting  for  glory  as  he  fell ; 

Or  here  a  saint  expired. 

Enough  that  all  around  is  fair, 
Composed  with  Nature's  finest  care, 

And  in  her  fondest  love — 
Peace  to  embosom  and  content — 
To  overawe  the  turbulent, 

The  selfish  to  reprove. 

Yea  I1  even  the  Stranger  from  afar, 
Eeclining  on  this  moss-grown  bar, 

Unknowing,  and  unknown, 
The  infection  of  the  ground  partakes, 
Longing  for  his  Beloved — who  makes 

All  happiness  her  own. 

Then  why  should  conscious  Spirits  fear 
The  mystic  stirrings  that  are  here, 

The  ancient  faith  disclaim  ? 
The  local  Genius  ne'er  befriends 
Desires  whose  course  in  folly  ends, 

Whose  just  reward  is  shame. 

Smile  if  thou  wilt,  but  not  in  scorn, 
If  some,  by  ceaseless  pains  outworn, 
Here  crave  an  easier  lot ; 

1  1832. 

Yes  !  even  1829. 


THE  WISHING-GATE.  189 

If  some  have  thirsted  to  renew 

A  broken  vow,  or  bind  a  true, 

With  firmer,  holier  knot. 

And  not  in  vain,  when  thoughts  are  cast 
Upon  the  irrevocable  past, 

Some  Penitent  sincere 
May  for  a  worthier  future  sigh, 
While  trickles  from  his  downcast  eye 

No  unavailing  tear. 

The  Worldling,  pining  to  be  freed 
From  turmoil,  who  would  turn  or  speed 

The  current  of  his  fate, 
Might  stop  before  this  favoured  scene, 
At  Nature's  call,  nor  blush  to  lean 

Upon  the  Wishing-gate. 

The  Sage,  who  feels  how  blind,  how  weak 
Is  man,  though  loth  such  help  to  seek, 

Yet,  passing,  here  might  pause, 
And  thirst1  for  insight  to  allay 
Misgiving,  while  the  crimson  day 

In  quietness  withdraws ; 

Or  when  the  church-clock's  knell  profound* 
To  Time's  first  step  across  the  bound 

Of  midnight  makes  reply ; 
Time  pressing  on  with  starry  crest, 
To  filial  sleep  upon  the  breast 

Of  dread  eternity. 

The  Wishing-gate  was  first  published  in  The  Keepsake  in  1829,  and 
next  in  the  1832  edition  of  the  Poems. — ED. 

1  1836. 

And  yearn 1829. 

*  Grasmere  Church. — ED. 


190  THE  WISHING-GATE  DESTROYED. 

THE  WISHING-GATE  DESTROYED. 

Comp.  1828.     Pub.  1842. 

'Tis  gone — with  old  belief  and  dream 
That  round  it  clung,  and  tempting  scheme 

Eeleased  from  fear  and  doubt ; 
And  the  bright  landscape  too  must  lie, 
By  this  blank  wall,  from  every  eye, 

Relentlessly  shut  out. 

Bear  witness  ye  who  seldom  passed 
That  opening — but  a  look  ye  cast 

Upon  the  lake  below, 
What  spirit-stirring  power  it  gained 
From  faith  which  here  was  entertained, 

Though  reason  might  say  no. 

Blest  is  that  ground,  where,  o'er  the  springs 
Of  history,  Glory  claps  her  wings, 

Eame  sheds  the  exulting  tear ; 
Yet  earth  is  wide,  and  many  a  nook 
Unheard  of  is,  like  this,  a  book 

For  modest  meanings  dear. 

It  was  in  sooth  a  happy  thought 
That  grafted,  on  so  fair  a  spot, 

So  confident  a  token 
Of  coming  good  ; — the  charm  is  fled  ; 
Indulgent  centuries  spun  a  thread, 

Which  one  harsh  day  has  broken. 

Alas !  for  him  who  gave  the  word ; 
Could  he  no  sympathy  afford, 
Derived  from  earth  or  heaven, 


THE  WISH  ING-GATE  DESTROYED.  191 

To  hearts  so  oft  by  hope  betrayed ; 
Their  very  wishes  wanted  aid 
Which  here  was  freely  given  ? 

Where,  for  the  love-lorn  maiden's  wound, 
Will  now  so  readily  be  found 

A  balm  of  expectation  ? 
Anxious  for  far-off  children,  where 
Shall  mothers  breathe  a  like  sweet  air 

Of  home-felt  consolation.? 

And  not  unfelt  will  prove  the  loss 
'Mid  trivial  care  and  petty  cross 

And  each  day's  shallow  grief : 
Though  the  most  easily  beguiled 
Were  oft  among  the  first  that  smiled 

At  their  own  fond  belief. 

If  still  the  reckless  change  we  mourn, 
A  reconciling  thought  may  turn 

To  harm  that  might  lurk  here, 
Ere  judgment  prompted  from  within 
Fit  aims,  with  courage  to  begin, 

And  strength  to  persevere. 

Not  Fortune's  slave  is  Man :  our  state 
Enjoins,  while  firm  resolve.s  await 

On  wishes  just  and  wise, 
That  strenuous  action  follow  both, 
And  life  be  one  perpetual  growth 

Of  heaven-ward  enterprise. 

So  taught,  so  trained,  we  boldly  face 
All  accidents  of  time  and  place ; 
Whatever  props  may  fail, 


192  THE  GLEANER. 

Trust  in  that  sovereign  law  can  spread 
New  glory  o'er  the  mountain's  head, 
Fresh  beauty  through  the  vale. 

That  truth  informing  mind  and  heart, 
The  simplest  cottager  may  part, 

Ungrieved,  with  charm  and  spell ; 
And  yet,  lost  "Wishing-gate,  to  thee 
The  voice  of  grateful  memory 

Shall  bid  a  kind  farewell ! 

A  Gate — though  not  the  "moss-grown  bar"  of  1828 — still  stands 
at  the  old  place,  where  Wordsworth  tells  us  one  had  stood  "  time  out 
of  mind ; "  so  that  the  "  blank  wall "  does  not  shut  out  the  "  bright 
landscape  "  at  the  old  and  now  classic  spot.  Long  may  it  stand,  defy- 
ing wind  and  weather  ! — ED. 


THE    GLEANER 

(SUGGESTED  BY  A  PICTURE.) 
Comp.  1828.  Pub.  1829. 

[This  poem  was  first  printed  in  the  annual  called  the  "  Keepsake." 
The  painter's  name  I  am  not  sure  of,  but  I  think  it  was  Holmes.*] 

THAT  happy  gleam  of  vernal  eyes, 
Those  locks  from  summer's  golden  skies, 

That  o'er  thy  brow  are  shed ; 
That  cheek — a  kindling  of  the  morn, 
That  lip — a  rose-bud  from  the  thorn, 

I  saw ;  and  Fancy  sped 

To  scenes  Arcadian,  whispering,  through  soft  air, 
Of  bliss  that  grows  without  a  care, 
And1  happiness  that  never  flies — 
(How  can  it  where  love  never  dies  ?) 

1  1837. 

Of 1832. 

*  It  was  by  J.  Holmes,  and  was  engraved  by  C.  Heath. — ED. 


THE  GLEANER.  193 

Whispering  of  promise,1  where  no  blight 
Can  reach  the  innocent  delight ; 
Where  pity,  to  the  mind  conveyed 
In  pleasure,  is  the  darkest  shade 
That  Time,  unwrinkled  grandsire,  flings 
From  his  smoothly  gliding  wings. 

What  mortal  form,  what  earthly  face 

Inspired  the  pencil,  lines  to  trace, 

And  mingle  colours,  that  should  breed 

Such  rapture,  nor  want  power  to  feed ; 

For  had  thy  charge  been  idle  flowers, 

Fair  Damsel !  o'er  my  captive  mind, 

To  truth  and  sober  reason  blind, 

'Mid  that  soft  air,  those  long-lost  bowers, 

The  sweet  illusion  might  have  hung,  for  hours. 

Thanks  to  this  tell-tale  sheaf  of  corn, 
That  touchingly  bespeaks  thee  born 
Life's  daily  tasks  with  them  to  share 
Who,  whether  from  their  lowly  bed 
They  rise,  or  rest  the  weary  head, 
Ponder  the  blessing  they  entreat  2 
From  Heaven,  and  feel  what  they  repeat, 
While  they  give  utterance  to  the  prayer 
That  asks  for  daily  bread. 

The  year  of  the  publication  of  this  poem  in  The  Keepsake  was  1829. 
It  then  appeared  under  the  title  of  "  The  Country  Girl,"  and  was  after- 
wards included  in  the  1832  edition  of  the  poems. — ED. 

1  1837. 

Of  promise  whispering,        .        .        .  1832. 

2  1832. 

Do  weigh  the  blessing  .        .         .  1829. 

VII.  N 


191  ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND. 


ON  THE  POWEE  OF  SOUND. 

Comp.  December  1828.    Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Kydal  Mount.  I  have  often  regretted  that  my  tour  in 
Ireland,  chiefly  performed  in  the  short  days  of  October  in  a  carriage- 
and-four  (I  was  with  Mr  Marshall),  supplied  my  memory  with  so  few 
images  that  were  new,  and  with  so  little  motive  to  write.  The  lines 
however  in  this  poem,  "Thou  too  be  heard,  lone  eagle!"  were 
suggested  near  the  Giants'  Causeway,  or  rather  at  the  promontory  of 
Fairhead,  where  a  pair  of  eagles  wheeled  above  our  heads  and  darted 
off  as  if  to  hide  themselves  in  a  blaze  of  sky  made  by  the  setting  sun.] 

ARGUMENT. 

The  Ear  addressed,  as  occupied  by  a  spiritual  functionary ',  in  communion 
with  sounds,  individual,  or  combined  in  studied  harmony. — Sources 
and  effects  of  those  sounds  (to  the  close  of  6th  Stanza). — The  power 
of  music,  whence  proceeding,  exemplified  in  the  idiot. — Origin  of 
music,  and  its  effect  in  early  ages — how  produced  (to  the  middle  of 
IQth  Stanza). — The  mind  recalled  to  sounds  acting  casually  and 
severally. —  Wish  uttered  (llth  Stanza}  that  these  could  be  united 
into  a  scheme  or  system  for  moral  interests  and  intellectual  contempla- 
tion.— (Stanza  12th).  The  Pythagorean  theory  of  numbers  and 
music,  with  their  supposed  power  over  the  motions  of  the  universe — 
imaginations  consonant  with  such  a  theory. —  Wish  expressed  (in  13th 
Stanza)  realized  in  some  degree,  by  the  representation  of  all  sounds 
under  the  form  of  thanksgiving  to  the  Creator. — (Last  Stanza)  the 
destruction  of  earth  and  the  planetary  system — the  survival  of  audible 
harmony,  and  its  support  in  the  Divine  Nature,  as  revealed  in  Holy 
Writ. 

I. 

THY  functions  are  ethereal, 

As  if  within  thee  dwelt  a  glancing  mind, 

Organ  of  vision  !     And  a  Spirit  aerial 

Informs  the  cell  of  Hearing,  dark  and  blind ; 

Intricate  labyrinth,  more  dread  for  thought 

To  enter  than  oracular  cave ; 

Strict  passage,  through  which  sighs  are  brought, 

And  whispers  for  the  heart,  their  slave ; 

And  shrieks,  that  revel  in  abuse 

Of  shivering  flesh  ;  and  warbled  air, 

Whose  piercing  sweetness  can  unloose 


ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND.  195 

The  chains  of  frenzy,  or  entice  a  smile 

Into  the  ambush  of  despair ; 

Hosannas  pealing  down  the  long-drawn  aisle, 

And  requiems  answered  by  the  pulse  that  beats 

Devoutly,  in  life's  last  retreats  ! 

II. 

The  headlong  streams  and  fountains 
Serve  Thee,  invisible  Spirit,  with  untired  powers : 
Cheering  the  wakeful  tent  on  Syrian  mountains, 
They  lull  perchance  ten  thousand  thousand  flowers. 
That  roar,  the  prowling  lion's  Here  I  am, 
How  fearful  to  the  desert  wide ! 
That  bleat,  how  tender !  of  the  dam 
Calling  a  straggler  to  her  side. 
Shout,  cuckoo  ! — let  the  vernal  soul 
Go  with  thee  to  the  frozen  zone ; 
Toll  from  thy  loftiest  perch,  lone  bell-bird,  toll  ! 
At  the  still  hour  to  Mercy  dear, 
Mercy  from  her  twilight  throne 
Listening  to  nun's  faint  throb  of  holy  fear, 
To  sailor's  prayer  breathed  from  a  darkening  sea, 
Or  widow's  cottage-lullaby. 

in. 

Ye  Voices,  and  ye  Shadows 

And  Images  of  voice — to  hound  and  horn 

From  rocky  steep  and  rock-bestudded  meadows 

Flung  back,  and,  in  the  sky's  blue  caves,  reborn — 

On  with  your  pastime  !  till  the  church-tower  bells 

A  greeting  give  of  measured  glee ; 

And  milder  echoes  from  their  cells 

Eepeat  the  bridal  symphony. 

Then,  or  far  earlier,  let  us  rove 

"Where  mists  are  breaking  up  or  gone, 


196  ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND. 

And  from  aloft  look  down  into  a  cove 
Besprinkled  with  a  careless  quire, 
Happy  milk-maids,  one  by  one 
Scattering  a  ditty  each  to  her  desire, 
A  liquid  concert  matchless  by  nice  Art, 
A  stream  as  if  from  one  full  heart. 

IV. 

Blest  be  the  song  that  brightens 

The  blind  man's  gloom,  exalts  the  veteran's  mirth ; 

Unscorned  the  peasant's  whistling  breath,  that  lightens 

His  duteous  toil  of  furrowing  the  green  earth. 

For  the  tired  slave,  Song  lifts  the  languid  oar, 

And  bids  it  aptly  fall,  with  chime 

That  beautifies  the  fairest  shore, 

And  mitigates  the  harshest  clime. 

Yon  pilgrims  see — in  lagging  file 

They  move ;  but  soon  the  appointed  way 

A  choral  Ave  Marie  shall  beguile, 

And  to  their  hope  the  distant  shrine 

Glisten  with  a  livelier  ray : 

Nor  friendless  he,  the  prisoner  of  the  mine, 

Who  from  the  well-spring  of  his  own  clear  breast 

Can  draw,  and  sing  his  griefs  to  rest. 

v. 

When  civic  renovation 
Dawns  on  a  kingdom,  and  for  needful  haste 
Best  eloquence  avails  not,  Inspiration 
Mounts  with  a  tune,  that  travels  like  a  blast 
Piping  through  cave  and  battlemented  tower ; 
Then  starts  the  sluggard,  pleased  to  meet 
That  voice  of  Freedom,  in  its  power 
Of  promises,  shrill,  wild,  and  sweet ! 
Who,  from  a  martial  pageant,  spreads 


ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND.  197 

Incitements  of  a  battle-day, 

Thrilling  the  unweaponed  crowd  with  plumeless  heads  ? — 

Even  She  whose  Lydian  airs  inspire* 

Peaceful  striving,  gentle  play 

Of  timid  hope  and  innocent  desire 

Shot  from  the  dancing  Graces,  as  they  move 

Fanned  by  the  plausive  wings  of  Love. 

VI. 

How  oft  along  thy  mazes, 

Eegent  of  sound,  have  dangerous  Passions  trod ! 

0  Thou,  through  whom  the  temple  rings  with  praises, 

And  blackening  clouds  in  thunder  speak  of  God, 

Betray  not  by  the  cozenage  of  sense  t 

Thy  votaries,  wooingly  resigned 

To  a  voluptuous  influence 

That  taints  the  purer,  better,  mind ; 

But  lead  sick  Fancy  to  a  harp 

That  hath  in  noble  tasks  been  tried ; 

And,  if  the  virtuous  feel  a  pang  too  sharp, 

Soothe  it  into  patience, — stay 

The  uplifted  arm  of  Suicide  ; 

And  let  some  mood  of  thine  in  firm  array 

Knit  every  thought  the  impending  issue  needs, 

Ere  martyr  burns,  or  patriot  bleeds  ! 

VII. 

As  Conscience,  to  the  centre 

Of  being,  smites  with  irresistible  pain, 

So  shall  a  solemn  cadence,  if  it  enter 

The  mouldy  vaults  of  the  dull  idiot's  brain, 

*  Compare  — 

"  And  ever  against  eating  cares, 
Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs, 
Married  to  immortal  verse. 

—Milton,  U Allegro,  135-7.— ED. 
t  The  deception  of  the  senses. — ED. 


198  ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND 

Transmute  him  to  a  wretch  from  quiet  hurled — 

Convulsed  as  by  a  jarring  din  ; 

And  then  aghast,  as  at  the  world 

Of  reason  partially  let  in 

By  concords  winding  with  a  sway 

Terrible  for  sense  and  soul ! 

Or,  awed  he  weeps,  struggling  to  quell  dismay. 

Point  not  these  mysteries  to  an  Art 

Lodged  above  the  starry  pole ; 

Pure  modulations  flowing  from  the  heart 

Of  divine  Love,  where  Wisdom,  Beauty,  Truth 

With  Order  dwell,  in  endless  youth  ? 

VIII. 

Oblivion  may  not  cover 

All  treasures  hoarded  by  the  miser,  Time, 

Orphean  Insight !  truth's  undaunted  lover, 

To  the  first  leagues  of  tutored  passion  climb, 

When  Music  deigned  within  this  grosser  sphere 

Her  subtle  essence  to  enfold, 

And  voice  and  shell  drew  forth  a  tear 

Softer  than  Nature's  self  could  mould. 

Yet  streniious  was  the  infant  Age : 

Art,  daring  because  souls  could  feel, 

Stirred  nowhere  but  an  urgent  equipage 

Of  rapt  imagination  sped  her  march 

Through  the  realms  of  woe  and  weal ; 

Hell  to  the  lyre  bowed  low ;  the  upper  arch 

Eejoiced  that  clamorous  spell  and  magic  verse 

Her  wan  disasters  could  disperse.* 

*  Orpheus,  in  search  of  his  lost  Eurydice,  gained  admittance  with  his 
lyre  to  the  infernal  regions.  Pluto  was  charmed  with  his  music,  the 
wheel  of  Ixion  stopped,  the  stone  of  Sisiphus  stood  still,  Tantalus  forgot 
his  thirst,  and  the  Furies  relented,  while  Pluto  and  Proserpine  consented  to 
restore  Eurydice.  The  sequel  is  we.ll  known.  — ED. 


ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND.  1  99 

IX. 

The  GIFT  to  king  Amphion 

That  walled  a  city  with  its  melody 

Was  for  belief  no  dream :  * — thy  skill,  Arion  ! 

Could  humanise  the  creatures  of  the  sea, 

Where  men  were  monsters.!    A  last  grace  he  craves, 

Leave  for  one  chant ; — the  dulcet  sound 

Steals  from  the  deck  o'er  willing  waves, 

And  listening  dolphins  gather  round. 

Self-cast  as  with  a  desperate  course, 

'Mid  that  strange  audience,  he  bestrides 

A  proud  One  docile  as  a  managed  horse  : 

And  singing,  while  the  accordant  hand 

Sweeps  his  harp,  the  Master  rides  : 

So  shall  he  touch  at  length  a  friendly  strand, 

And  he,  with  his  preserver,  shine  star-bright 

In  memory,  through  silent  night. 

x, 

The  pipe  of  Pan,  to  shepherds 
Couched  in  the  shadow  of  Msenalian  pines,  t 
Was  passing  sweet ;  the  eyeballs  of  the  leopards, 
That  in  high  triumph  drew  the  Lord  of  vines, 

*  The  fable  of  Amphion  moving  stones  and  raising  the  walls  of  Thebes  by 
his  melody  is  explained  by  supposing  him  gifted  with  an  eloquence  and 
power  of  persuasion  that  roused  the  savage  people  to  rise  and  build  the 
town  of  Thebes.— ED. 

t  The  story  of  Arion,  lyric  poet  and  musician  of  Lesbos,  was  that 
having  gone  into  Italy,  settled  there,  and  grown  rich,  he  wished  to  revisit 
his  native  country,  taking  some  of  his  fortune  with  him.  The  sailors  of 
the  ship  determined  to  murder  him,  and  steal  his  treasure.  He  asked,  as  a 
last  favour,  that  he  might  play  a  tune  on  his  lyre.  As  soon  as  he  began  he 
attracted  the  creatures  of  the  deep,  and  leaping  into  the  sea,  one  of 
the  dolphins  carried  him,  lyre  in  hand,  to  the  shore. — ED. 

J  Msenalus,  a  mountain  in  Arcadia,  sacred  to  Pan,  covered  with  pine 
trees,  a  favourite  haunt  of  shepherds.— See  Virg.,  Eel.  viii.  24;  Georg. 
i.  17  ;  Ovid,  Met.  i.  246.— ED. 


200  ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND. 

How  did  they  sparkle  to  the  cymbal's  clang ! 

While  Fauns  and  Satyrs  beat  the  ground 

In  cadence, — and  Silenus  swang 

This  way  and  that,  with  wild-flowers  crowned.* 

To  life,  to  life  give  back  thine  ear  : 

Ye  who  are  longing  to  be  rid 

Of  fable,  though  to  truth  subservient,  hear 

The  little  sprinkling  of  cold  earth  that  fell 

Echoed  from  the  coffin-lid  ; 

The  convict's  summons  in  the  steeple's  knell ; 

'  The  vain  distress-gun/  from  a  leeward  shore, 

Eepeated — heard,  and  heard  no  more  ! 

XL 

For  terror,  joy,  or  pity, 
Vast  is  the  compass  and  the  swell  of  notes : 
From  the  babe's  first  cry 'to  voice  of  regal  city, 
Kolling  a  solemn  sea-like  bass,  that  floats 
Far  as  the  woodlands — with  the  trill  to  blend 
Of  that  shy  songstress,!  whose  love-tale 
Might  tempt  an  angel  to  descend, 
While  hovering  o'er  the  moonlight  vale. 
Ye  wandering  Utterances,}  has  earth  no  scheme, 
No  scale  of  moral  music — to  unite 
Powers  that  survive  but  in  the  faintest  dream1 

1  1830. 

0  for  some  soul-affecting  scheme 

Of  moral  mnsic,  to  unite 

Wanderers  whose  portion  is  the  faintest  dream       1835. 

*  In  his  expedition  to  the  East,  Bacchus  was  clothed  in  a  panther's  skin. 
He  was  accompanied  by  all  the  Satyrs,  and  by  Silenus  crowned  with 
flowers  and  almost  always  intoxicated. — ED. 
t  The  nightingale. — ED. 
J  Compare  The  Cuckoo — 

"  A  wandering  voice." 

—Vol.  II.  p.  1.— ED. 


ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND.          201 

Of  memory  ? — 0  that  ye  might  stoop  to  bear 

Chains,  such  precious  chains  of  sight 

As  laboured  minstrelsies  through  ages  wear  ! 

0  for  a  balance  fit  the  truth  to  tell 

Of  the  Unsubstantial,  pondered  well ! 

XII. 

By  one  pervading  spirit 

Of  tones  and  numbers  all  things  are  controlled, 

As  sages  taught,  where  faith  was  found  to  merit 

Initiation  in  that  mystery  old.1* 

The  heavens,  whose  aspect  makes  our  minds  as  still 

As  they  themselves  appear  to  be, 

Innumerable  voices  fill 

With  everlasting  harmony ; 

The  towering  headlands,  crowned  with  mist, 

Their  feet  among  the  billows,  know 

That  Ocean  is  a  mighty  harmonist ;  t 

1  1835. 

There  is  a  world  of  spirit, 
By  tones  and  numbers  guided  and  controlled  ; 
And  glorious  privilege  have  they  who  merit 
Initiation  in  that  mystery  old. 

MS.  Copy  by  Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

*  The  fundamental  idea,  both  in  the  intellectual  and  moral  philosophy  of 
the  Pythagoreans,  was  that  of  harmony  or  proportion.  Their  natural  science 
or  cosmology  was  dominated  by  the  same  idea,  that  as  the  world  and  all 
spheres  with  hi  the  universe  were  constructed  sy  metrically,  and  moved 
around  a  central  focus,  the  forms  and  the  proportions  of  things  were 
best  expressed  by  number.  All  good  was  due  to  the  principle  of  order  ; 
all  evil  to  disorder.  In  accordance  with  the  mathematical  conception 
of  the  universe  which  ruled  the  Pythagoreans,  justice  was  equality 
(iV6T?7s),  that  is  to  say  it  consisted  in  each  one  receiving  equally  according  to 
his  deserts.  Friendship  too  was  equality  of  feeling  and  relationship ; 
harmony  being  the  radical  idea,  alike  in  the  ethics  and  in  the  cosmology  of 
the  school. — ED. 

t  Compare  Keats  to  his  friend  Bailey  in  1817  :  "The  great  elements  we 
know  of  are  no  mean  comforters  ;  the  open  sky  sits  upon  our  senses  like  a 
sapphire  crown  ;  the  air  is  our  robe  of  state  ;  the  earth  is  our  throne  ;  and 
the  sea  a  mighty  minstrel  playing  before  it."— ED. 


202  ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND. 

Thy  pinion*,  universal  Air, 
Ever  waving  to  and  fro, 

Are  delegates  of  har  .......  y,  and  hear 

Strains  that  support  the  Seasons  in  their  round; 

Stem  Winter  loves  a  dirge-like  sound. 

XIII. 

l.reak  forth  into  thanksgiving, 

Ye  banded  instruments  of  wind  and  chords  ; 

Unite,  to  magnify  the  Kver-livin^,* 

Your  inarticulate,  notes  with  the  voice  of  words! 

Nor  hushed  be  service  from  the  lowing  mead, 

Nor  mule  I  lie  fun-si   hum  of  noon  ; 

Thou  too  be  heard,  lone  ea^le  ;!  t    freed 

I'Yom  snowy  peak  and  cloud,  attune, 

Thy  hun(_!TY  liarkiii":;  (o  the  hymn 

(  )f  joy,  that-  from  her  utmost  walls 

The  six-days'  Work,t  by  flaming  Seraphim 

Transmits  to  Heaven!   As  Dee])  to  Deep 

Shouting  through  one  valley  calls, 

All  worlds,  all  natures,  mood  and  measure  keep 

For  praise  and  ceaseless  ^rat  illation,  poured 

Into  the  ear  of  God,  their  Lord  ! 

XIV. 

A  Voice  to  Light  gave  Being  ;§ 

To  Time,  and  Man  his  earth-born  chronicler  ; 

*  Compare— 

"  Choral  song,  or  burst 
Sublime  of  instrumental  harmony 


-  Tin-  K.,rur*hti.  I',.  -ok  IV.,  1170  (Vol.  V.  ]>.  1«)-J).      Kn. 
I  Si-o  the  I'Ymvu-k  noto  pirlix.-d  to  this  I>(HMII.--  Ki>. 
t  (len.  i.-Ed. 
§  "And  God  said,  Let  there  bo  light,  and  there  was  light"  (<:<>n.  i. 


ON  THE  POWER  OF  SOUND.  203 

A  Voice  shall  finish  doubt  and  dim  foreseeing, 

And  sweep  away  life's  visionary  stir ; 

The  trumpet  (we,  intoxicate  with  pride, 

Arm  at  its  blast  for  deadly  wars) 

To  archangelic  lips  applied, 

The  grave  shall  open,  quench  the  stars.* 

O  Silence !  are  Man's  noisy  years 

No  more  than  moments  of  thy  life  ?  t 

Is  Harmony,  blest  queen  of  smiles  and  tears, 

With  her  smooth  tones  and  discords  just, 

Tempered  into  rapturous  strife, 

Thy  destined  bond-slave  ?     No  !  though  earth  be  dust 

And  vanish,  though  the  heavens  dissolve,  her  stay 

Is  in  the  WORD  that  shall  not  pass  away.l 

*  1  Cor.  xv.  52.— ED. 
t  Compare — 

"  Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 
Of  the  eternal  Silence." 

— Ode  on  /wiworta%,  at.  ix.  (Vol.  IV.  p.  54).— ED. 
$  St  Luke  xxi.  33.— Eu. 


204  GOLD  AND  SILVER  FISHES  IN  A  VASE. 


1829. 

The  Poems  of  1829  were  few  ;  and  were,  for  the  most  part,  suggested 
by  incidents  or  occurrences  at  Kydal  Mount. 


GOLD  AND  SILVER  FISHES  IN  A  VASE. 
Comp.  1829.    Pub.  1835. 

[They  were  a  present  from  Miss  Jewsbury,  of  whom  mention  is 
made  in  the  note  at  the  end  of  the  next  poem.  The  fish  were  healthy 
to  all  appearance  in  their  confinement  for  a  long  time,  but  at  last,  for 
some  cause  we  could  not  make  out,  they  languished,  and,  one  of  them 
being  all  but  dead,  they  were  taken  to  the  pool  under  the  old  Pollard- 
oak.  The  apparently  dying  one  lay  on  its  side  unable  to  move.  I  used 
to  watch  it,  and  about  the  tenth  day  it  began  to  right  itself,  and  in  a 
few  days  more  was  able  to  swim  about  with  its  companions.  For 
many  months  they  continued  to  prosper  in  their  new  place  of  abode  ; 
but  one  night  by  an  unusually  great  flood  they  were  swept  out  of  the 
pool,  and  perished  to  our  great  regret.] 

THE  soaring  lark  is  blest  as  proud 

When  at  heaven's  gate  she  sings ; 
The  roving  bee  proclaims  aloud 

Her  flight  by  vocal  wings ; 
While  Ye,  in  lasting  durance  pent, 

Your  silent  lives  employ 
For  something  more  than  dull  content, 

Though  haply  less  than  joy. 

Yet  might  your  glassy  prison  seem 

A  place  where  joy  is  known, 
Where  golden  flash  and  silver  gleam 

Have  meanings  of  their  own ; 
While,  high  and  low,  and  all  about, 

Your  motions,  glittering  Elves ! 
Ye  weave — no  danger  from  without, 

And  peace  among  yourselves. 


GOLD  AND  SILVER  FISHES  IN  A  VASE.  205 

Type  of  a  sunny  human  breast 

Is  your  transparent  cell ; 
Where  Fear  is  but  a  transient  guest, 

No  sullen  Humours  dwell ; 
Where,  sensitive  of  every  ray 

That  smites  this  tiny  sea, 
Your  scaly  panoplies  repay 

The  loan  with  usury. 

How  beautiful ! — Yet  none  knows  why 

This  ever-graceful  change, 
Renewed — renewed  incessantly — 

Within  your  quiet  range. 
Is  it  that  ye  with  conscious  skill 

For  mutual  pleasure  glide  ; 
And  sometimes,  not  without  your  will, 

Are  dwarfed,  or  magnified  ? 

Fays,  Genii  of  gigantic  size  ! 

And  now,  in  twilight  dim, 
Clustering  like  constellated  eyes 

In  wings  of  Cherubim, 
When  the  fierce  orbs  abate  their  glare ; — 1 

Whate'er  your  forms  express, 
Whate'er  ye  seem,  whate'er  ye  are — 

All  leads  to  gentleness. 

Cold  though  your  nature  be,  'tis  pure ; 

Your  birthright  is  a  fence 
From  all  that  haughtier  kinds  endure 

Through  tyranny  of  sense. 

1  1837. 

When  they  abate  their  fiery  glare  :  1835. 


206  LIBERTY. 

Ah  !  not  alone  by  colours  bright 

Are  Ye  to  Heaven  allied, 
When,  like  essential  Forms  of  light, 

Ye  mingle,  or  divide. 

For  day-dreams  soft  as  e'er  beguiled 

Day-thoughts  while  limbs  repose ; 
For  moonlight  fascinations  mild, 

Your  gift,  ere  shutters  close — 
Accept,  mute  Captives  !  thanks  and  praise ; 

And  may  this  tribute  prove 
That  gentle  admirations  raise 

Delight  resembling  love. 


LIBEETY. 
(SEQUEL  TO  THE  ABOVE.) 

[ADDRESSED  TO  A  FRIEND  ;  THE  GOLD  AND  SILVER  FISHES  HAVING  BEEN 
REMOVED  TO  A  POOL  IN  THE  PLEASURE-GROUND  OF  RYDAL  MOUNT.] 

Comp.  1829.     Pub.  1835. 

'  The  liberty  of  a  people  consists  in  being  governed  by  laws  which 
they  have  made  for  themselves,  under  whatever  form  it  be  of  govern- 
ment. The  liberty  of  a  private  man,  in  being  master  of  his  own  time 
and  actions,  as  far  as  may  consist  with  the  laws  of  God  and  of  his 
country.  Of  this  latter  we  are  here  to  discourse.' — COWLEY. 

THOSE  breathing  Tokens  of  your  kind  regard, 
(Suspect  not,  Anna,*  that  their  fate  is  hard ; 
Not  soon  does  aught  to  which  mild  fancies  cling, 
In  lonely  spots,  become  a  slighted  thing ;) 
Those  silent  Inmates  now  no  longer  share 
Nor  do  they  need,  our  hospitable  care, 
Removed  in  kindness  from  their  glassy  Cell 
To  the  fresh  waters  of  a  living  Well — 

*  See  the  Sonnet  (p.  163)  beginning — 

"  While  Anna's  peers  and  early  playmates  tread."  — ED. 


LIBERTY.  207 

An  elfin  pool  so  sheltered  that  its  rest 

No  winds  disturb  ;*  the  mirror  of  whose  breast 

Is  smooth  as  clear,  save  where  with  dimples  small 1 

A  fly  may  settle,  or  a  blossom  fall.2 

— There  swims,  of  blazing  sun  and  beating  shower 

Fearless  (but  how  obscured !)  the  golden  Power, 

That  from  his  bauble  prison  used  to  cast 

Gleams  by  the  richest  jewel  unsurpast ; 

And  near  him,  darkling  like  a  sullen  Gnome, 

The  silver  Tenant  of  the  crystal  dome ; 

Dissevered  both  from  all  the  mysteries 

Of  hue  and  altering  shape  that  charmed  all  eyes. 

Alas  !  they  pined,3  they  languished  while  they  shone ; 

And,  if  not  so,  what  matters  beauty  gone 

And  admiration  lost,  by  change  of  place 

That  brings  to  the  inward  creature  no  disgrace  ? 

But  if  the  change  restore  his  birth-right,  then, 

Whate'er  the  difference,  boundless  is  the  gain. 

Who  can  divine  what  impulses  from  God 

Eeach  the  caged  lark,  within  a  town-abode, 

From  his  poor  inch  or  two  of  daisied  sod  ? 

0  yield  him  back  his  privilege  ! — No  sea 

1  1845. 

Well; 

That  spreads  into  an  elfin  pool  opaque 

Of  which  close  boughs  a  glimmering  mirror  make 

On  whose  smooth  breast  with  dimples  light  and  small. 

1835. 

2  1845. 

The  fly  may  settle,  leaf  or  blossom  fall.  1835. 

The  fly  may  settle,  or  the  blossom  fall.  1837. 

3  1845. 

They  pined,  perhaps,          ....  1835. 

*  This  "elfin  pool,"  to  which  the  gold  and  silver  fishes  were  removed, 
still  exists  beneath  the  Pollard  Oak,  in  "  Dora's  Field,"  at  Rydal  Mount. 
-Eo. 


208  LIBERTY. 

Swells  like  the  bosom  of  a  man  set  free  ; 

A  wilderness  is  rich  with  liberty. 

Roll  on,  ye  spouting  whales,  who  die  or  keep 

Your  independence  in  the  fathomless  Deep ! 

Spread,  tiny  nautilus,  the  living  sail ; 

Dive,  at  thy  choice,  or  brave  the  freshening  gale ! 

If  unreproved  the  ambitious  eagle  mount 

Sunward  to  seek  the  daylight  in  its  fount, 

Bays,  gulfs,  and  ocean's  Indian  width,  shall  be, 

Till  the  world  perishes,  a  field  for  thee  !* 

While  musing  here  I  sit  in  shadow  cool, 
And  watch  these  mute  Companions,  in  the  pool, 
(Among  reflected  boughs  of  leafy  trees) 
By  glimpses  caught — disporting  at  their  ease. 
Enlivened,  braced,  by  hardy  luxuries, 
I  ask  what  warrant  fixed  them  (like  a  spell 
Of  witchcraft  fixed  them)  in  the  crystal  cell ; 
To  wheel  with  languid  motion  round  and  round, 
Beautiful,  yet  in  mournful  durance  bound. 
Their  peace,  perhaps,  our  lightest  footfall  marred ; 
On  their  quick  sense  our  sweetest  music  jarred ; 
And  whither  could  they  dart,  if  seized  with  fear  ? 
No  sheltering  stone,  no  tangled  root  was  near. 
When  fire  or  taper  ceased  to  cheer  the  room, 
They  wore  away  the  night  in  starless  gloom ; 
And,  when  the  sun  first  dawned  upon  the  streams, 
How  faint  their  portion  of  his  vital  beams ! 
Thus,  and  unable  to  complain,  they  fared, 
While  not  one  joy  of  ours  by  them  was  shared. 

Is  there  a  cherished  bird  (I  venture  now 
To  snatch  a  sprig  from  Chaucer's  reverend  brow) — 

*  See  the  reference  to  the  Eagle  in  the  The  Power  of  Sound  (p.  202)  and 
in  the  Poem  in  the  Scottish  Tour  of  1833,  The  Dunolly  Eagle.— ED. 


LIBERTY.  209 

Is  there  a  brilliant  fondling  of  the  cage, 

Though  sure  of  plaudits  on  his  costly  stage, 

Though  fed  with  dainties  from  the  snow-white  hand 

Of  a  kind  mistress,  fairest  of  the  land, 

But  gladly  would  escape ;  and,  if  need  were, 

Scatter  the  colours  from  the  plumes  that  bear 

The  emancipated  captive  through  blithe  air 

Into  strange  woods,  where  he  at  large  may  live 

On  best  or  worst  which  they  and  Nature  give  ? 

The  beetle  loves  his  unpretending  track, 

The  snail  the  house  he  carries  on  his  back  ; 

The  far-fetched  worm  with  pleasure  would  disown 

The  bed  we  give  him,  though  of  softest  down  ; 

A  noble  instinct ;  in  all  kinds  the  same, 

All  ranks !     What  Sovereign,  worthy  of  the  name, 

If  doomed  to  breathe  against  his  lawful  will 

An  element  that  flatters  him — to  kill, 

But  would  rejoice  to  barter  outward  show 

For  the  least  boon  that  freedom  can  bestow  ? 

But  most  the  Bard  is  true  to  inborn  right, 
Lark  of  the  dawn,  and  Philomel  of  night, 
Exults  in  freedom,  can  with  rapture  vouch 
For  the  dear  blessings  of  a  lowly  couch, 
A  natural  meal — days,  months,  from  Nature's  hand ; 
Time,  place,  and  business,  all  at  his  command ! — 
Who  bends  to  happier  duties,  who  more  wise 
Than  the  industrious  Poet,  taught  to  prize, 
Above  all  grandeur,  a  pure  life  uncrossed 
By  cares  in  which  simplicity  is  lost  ? 
That  life — the  flowery  path  that  winds l  by  stealth— 
Which  Horace  needed  for  his  spirit's  health ; 

1  1837. 

which  winds         .         .  1835. 

VII.  0 


210  LIBERTY. 

Sighed  for,  in  heart  and  genius,  overcome 
By  noise  and  strife,  and  questions  wearisome, 
And  the  vain  splendours  of  Imperial  Eome  ? —  * 
Let  easy  mirth  his  social  hours  inspire, 
And  fiction  animate  his  sportive  lyre, 
Attuned  to  verse  that,  crowning  light  Distress 
With  garlands,  cheats  her  into  happiness ; 
Give  me  the  humblest  note  of  those  sad  strains 
Drawn  forth  by  pressure  of  his  gilded  chains, 
As  a  chance-sunbeam  from  his  memory  fell 
Upon  the  Sabine  farm  he  loved  so  well ;  t 
Or  when  the  prattle  of  Blandusia's  spring  \ 
Haunted  his  ear — he  only  listening — 
He  proud  to  please,  above  all  rivals,  fit 
To  win  the  palm  of  gaiety  and  wit ; 
He,  doubt  not,  with  involuntary  dread, 
Shrinking  from  each  new  favour  to  be  shed, 
By  the  world's  Kuler,  on  his  honoured  head ! 

In  a  deep  vision's  intellectual  scene, 
Such  earnest  longings  and  regrets  as  keen 

*  "The  Sabine  farm  was  situated  in  the  valley  of  Ustica,  thirty  miles 
from  Rome  and  twelve  miles  from  Tivoli.  It  possessed  the  attraction,  no 
small  one  to  Horace,  of  being  very  secluded  :  yet,  at  the  same  time,  within 
an  easy  distance  of  Rome.  When  his  spirits  wanted  the  stimulus  of  society 
or  the  bustle  of  the  capital,  which  they  often  did,  his  ambling  mule  would 
speedily  convey  him  thither ;  and  when  jaded,  on  the  other  hand,  by  the 
noise  and  racket  and  dissipations  of  Rome,  he  could,  in  the  same  homely  way, 
bury  himself  in  a  few  hours  among  the  hills,  and  there,  under  the  shadow 
of  his  favourite  Lucretilis,  or  by  the  banks  of  the  clear-flowing  and  ice-cold 
Digentia,  either  stretch  himself  to  dream  upon  the  grass,  lulled  by  the 
murmurs  of  the  stream,  or  do  a  little  farming  in  the  way  of  clearing  his 
fields  of  stones,  or  turning  over  a  furrow  here  and  there  with  the  hoe." — 
(See  Sir  Theodore  Martin's  Horace,  p.  68.)— ED. 

t  SeeHor.  Ode  II. ,  18— 

"  Satis  beatus  unicis  Sabinis." 
"  With  what  I  have  completely  blest, 
My  happy  little  Sabine  nest."  — ED. 

J  See  Odes,  III.,  13.— ED. 


LIBERTY.  211 

Depressed  the  melancholy  Cowley,  laid 

Under  a  fancied  yew-tree's  luckless  shade ; 

A  doleful  bower  for  penitential  song, 

Where  Man  and  Muse  complained  of  mutual  wrong ; 

While  Cam's  ideal  current  glided  by, 

And  antique  towers  nodded  their  foreheads  high, 

Citadels  dear  to  studious  privacy. 

But  Fortune,  who  had  long  been  used  to  sport 

With  this  tried  Servant  of  a  thankless  Court, 

Eelenting  met  his  wishes ;  and  to  you 

The  remnant  of  his  days  at  least  was  true ; 

You,  whom,  though  long  deserted,  he  loved  best ; 

You,  Muses,  books,  fields,  liberty,  and  rest !  * 

Far l  happier  they  who,  fixing  hope  and  aim 
On  the  humanities  of  peaceful  fame, 
Enter  betimes  with  more  than  martial  fire 
The  generous  course,  aspire,  and  still  aspire ; 
Upheld  by  warnings  heeded  not  too  late 
Stifle  the  contradictions  of  their  fate, 
And  to  one  purpose  cleave,  their  Being's  godlike  mate ! 

Thus,  gifted  Friend,  but  with  the  placid  brow 
That  woman  ne'er  should  forfeit,  keep  iky  vow ; 
With  modest  scorn  reject  whate'er  would  blind 
The  ethereal  eyesight,  cramp  the  winged  mind ! 

1  1837. 

But 1835. 

*  Abraham  Cowley  (b.  1618),  educated  at  Westminster  and  Trin.  Coll., 
Cambridge,  a  Royalist,  and  therefore  expelled  from  Cambridge,  settled  in 
John's  Coll.,  Oxford,  crossed  over  with  the  Queen  Mother  to  France  for 
twelve  years,  returned  at  the  Restoration,  but  was  neglected  at  Court,  and 
retired  to  a  farm  at  Chertsey,  on  the  Thames,  where  he  lived  for  some  years; 
"the  melancholy  Cowley." — ED. 


212  HUMANITY. 

Then,  with  a  blessing  granted  from  above 
To  every  act,  word,  thought,  and  look  of  love, 
Life's  book  for  Thee  may  lie  unclosed,  till  age 
Shall  with  a  thankful  tear  bedrop  its  latest  page/ 


HUMANITY. 

Comp.  1829.     Pub.  1835. 

[These  verses  and  those  entitled  "  Liberty "  were  composed  as  one 
piece  which  Mrs  Wordsworth  complained  of  as  unwieldy  and  ill- 
proportioned  ;  and  accordingly  it  was  divided  into  two  on  her  judicious 
recommendation.] 

Not  from  his  fellows  only  man  may  learn 

Rights  to  compare  and  duties  to  discern  : 

All  creatures  and  all  objects,  in  degree, 

Are  friends  and  patrons  of  humanity. — MS.  1835. 

The  Rocking-stones,  alluded  to  in  the  beginning  of  the  following 
verses,  are  supposed  to  have  been  used,  by  our  British  ancestors,  both 
for  judicial  and  religious  purposes.  Such  stones  are  not  uncommonly 
found,  at  this  day,  both  in  Great  Britain  and  in  Ireland. 

WHAT  though  the  Accused,  upon  his  own  appeal 
To  righteous  Gods  when  man  has  ceased  to  feel, 
Or  at  a  doubting  Judge's  stern  command, 
Before  the  STONE  OF  POWER  no  longer  stand — 
To  take  his  sentence  from  the  balanced  Block, 

*  There  is  now,  alas  !  no  possibility  of  the  anticipation,  with  which  the 
above  Epistle  concludes,  being  realised  ;  nor  were  the  verses  ever  seen  by 
the  Individual  for  whom  they  were  intended.  She  accompanied  her  hus- 
band, the  Rev.  Wm.  Fletcher,  to  India,  and  died  of  cholera,  at  the  age  of 
thirty-two  or  thirty -three  years,  on  her  way  from  Shalapore  to  Bombay, 
deeply  lamented  by  all  who  knew  her. 

Her  enthusiasm  was  ardent,  her  piety  steadfast ;  and  her  great  talents 
would  have  enabled  her  to  be  eminently  useful  in  the  difficult  path  of  life 
to  which  she  had  been  called.  The  opinion  she  entertained  of  her  own 
performances,  given  to  the  world  under  her  maiden  name,  Jewsbury,  was 
modest  and  humble,  and,  indeed,  far  below  their  merits ;  as  is  often  the 
case  with  those  who  are  making  trial  of  their  powers,  with  a  hope  to  dis- 
cover what  they  are  best  fitted  for.  In  one  quality,  viz.,  quickness  in  the 
motions  of  her  mind,  she  had,  within  the  range  of  the  Author's  acquaint- 
ance, no  equal. W.  W.,  1835. 


HUMANITY.  2 1  3 

As,  at  his  touch,  it  rocks,  or  seems  to  rock  ;* 

Though,  in  the  depths  of  sunless  groves,  no  more 

The  Druid-priest  the  hallowed  Oak  adore ; 

Yet,  for  the  Initiate,  rocks  and  whispering  trees 

Do  still  perform  mysterious  offices ! 

And  functions  dwell  in  beast  and  bird  that  sway 

The  reasoning  mind,  or  with  the  fancy  play, 

Inviting,  at  all  seasons,  ears  and  eyes 

To  watch  for  undelusive  auguries  : — 1 

Not  uninspired  appear  their  simplest  ways ; 

Their  voices  mount  symbolical  of  praise — 

To  mix  with  hymns  that  Spirits  make  and  hear ; 

And  to  fallen  man  their  innocence  is  dear. 

Enraptured  Art  draws  from  those  sacred  springs 

Streams  that  reflect  the  poetry  of  things ! 

Where  Christian  Martyrs  stand  in  hues  portrayed, 

That,  might  a  wish  avail,  would  never  fade, 

Borne  in  their  hands  the  lily  and  the  palm 

Shed  round  the  altar  a  celestial  calm ; 

There,  too,  behold  the  lamb  and  guileless  dove 

Prest  in  the  tenderness  of  virgin  love 

To  saintly  bosoms  ! — Glorious  is  the  blending 

Of  right  affections  climbing  or  descending 

Along  a  scale  of  light  and  life,  with  cares 

Alternate ;  carrying  holy  thoughts  and  prayers 

1  1837. 

offices ! 

And  still  in  beast  and  bird  a  function  dwells, 

That,  while  we  look  and  listen,  sometimes  tells 

Upon  the  heart,  in  more  authentic  guise 

Than  Oracles,  or  winged  Auguries, 

Spake  to  the  science  of  the  ancient  wise.  1835. 

*  There  are  several,  so-called,  'Rocking- stones'  in  Yorkshire  and 
Lancashire,  in  Derby,  in  Cornwall,  and  in  Wales.  There  are  one  or  two 
in  Scotland,  and  there  used  to  be  several  in  the  Lake  District.  Some  are 
natural ;  others  artificial. — ED. 


214  HUMANITY. 

Up  to  the  sovereign  seat  of  the  Most  High ; 

Descending  to  the  worm  in  charity  ;* 

Like  those  good  Angels  whom  a  dream  of  night 

Gave,  in  the  field  of  Luz,  to  Jacob's  sight — t 

All,  while  he  slept,  treading  the  pendent  stairs 

Earthward  or  heavenward,  radiant  messengers, 

That,  with  a  perfect  will  in  one  accord 

Of  strict  obedience,  serve1  the  Almighty  Lord ; 

And  with  untired  humility  forbore 

To  speed  their  errand  by2  the  wings  they  wore. 

What  a  fair  world  were  ours  for  verse  to  paint, 
If  Power  could  live  at  ease  with  self-restraint  1 
Opinion  bow  before  the  naked  sense 
Of  the  great  Vision, — faith  in  Providence  ; 
Merciful  over  all  his  creatures,  just3 
To  the  least  particle  of  sentient  dust ; 
But,4  fixing  by  immutable  decrees 
Seedtime  and  harvest  for  his  purposes ! 
Then  would  be  closed  the  restless  oblique  eye 
That  looks  for  evil  like  a  treacherous  spy ; 
Disputes  would  then  relax,  like  stormy  winds 
That  into  breezes  sink ;  impetuous  minds 
By  discipline  endeavour  to  grow  meek 
As  Truth  herself,  whom  they  profess  to  seek. 


1845. 


served        .        .        .  1835. 

2  1837. 

The  ready  service  of          ...  1835. 

3  1843. 


1843. 


Merciful  over  all  existence,  just  1S35. 


And 1835. 


*  The  author  is  indebted,  here,  to  a  passage  in  one  of  Mr  Digby's  valuable 
works.  — W.  W.,  1835. 
t  Gen.  xxviii.  12. — ED. 


HUMANITY.  215 

Then  Genius,  shunning  fellowship  with  Pride, 

Would  braid  his  golden  locks  at  Wisdom's  side ; 

Love  ebb  and  flow  untroubled  by  caprice ; 

And  not  alone  harsh  tyranny  would  cease, 

But  unoffending  creatures  find  release 

From  qualified  oppression,  whose  defence 

Rests  on  a  hollow  plea  of  recompence ; 

Thought-tempered  wrongs,  for  each  humane  respect 

Oft  worse  to  bear,  or  deadlier  in  effect. 

Witness  those  glances  of  indignant  scorn 

From  some  high-minded  Slave,  impelled  to  spurn 

The  kindness  that  would  make  him  less  forlorn ; 

Or,  if  the  soul  to  bondage  be  subdued, 

His  look  of  pitiable  gratitude  ! 

Alas  for  thee,  bright  Galaxy  of  Isles, 
Whose l  day  departs  in  pomp,  returns  with  smiles — 
To  greet  the  flowers  and  fruitage  of  a  land, 
As  the  sun  mounts,  by  sea-born  breezes  fanned ; 
A  land  whose  azure  mountain-tops  are  seats 
For  Gods  in  council,  whose  green  vales,  retreats 
Fit  for  the  shades  of  heroes,  mingling  there 
To  breath  Elysian  peace  in  upper  air. 

Though  cold  as  winter,  gloomy  as  the  grave, 
Stone  walls  a  prisoner  make,  but  not  a  slave.* 
Shall  man  assume  a  property  in  man  ? 
Lay  on  the  moral  will  a  withering  ban  ? 

1  1837. 

Where 1835. 

Compare  Richard  Lovelace,  To  Althea,from  Prison  — 
' '  Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 
Nor  iron  bars  a  cage. 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 
That  for  a  hermitage."  — ED. 


2 1  6  HUMANITY. 

Shame  that  our  laws  at  distance  still  protect l 

Enormities,  which  they  at  home  reject ! 

'  Slaves  cannot  breathe  in  England  ' — yet  that  boast 

Is  but  a  mockery  !  when  2  from  coast  to  coast, 

Though  fettered  slave  be  none,  her  floors  and  soil 

Groan  underneath  a  weight  of  slavish  toil, 

For  the  poor  Many,  measured  out  by  rules 

Fetched  with  cupidity  from  heartless  schools, 

That  to  an  Idol,  falsely  called  '  the  Wealth 

Of  Nations,'  *  sacrifice  a  People's  health, 

Body  and  mind  and  soul ;  a  thirst  so  keen 

Is  ever  urging  on  the  vast  machine 

Of  sleepless  Labour,  'mid  whose  dizzy  wheels 

The  Power  least  prized  is  that  which  thinks  and  feels. 

Then,  for  the  pastimes  of  this  delicate  age, 
And  all  the  heavy  or  light  vassalage 
Which  for  their  sakes  we  fasten,  as  may  suit 
Our  varying  moods,  on  human  kind  or  brute, 
'Twere  well  in  little,  as  in  great,  to  pause, 
Lest  Fancy  trifle  with  eternal  laws. 
Not  from  his  fellows  only  man  may  learn 
Rights  to  compare  and  duties  to  discern  ! 
All  creatures  and  all  objects,  in  degree, 
Are  friends  and  patrons  of  humanity. 

1  1837. 

should  protect  1835. 

2  1837. 

— a  proud  boast ! 
And  yet  a  mockery !  if,         .        .         .         .  1335. 

*  Compare  The  Prelude,  Book  XIII.  (Vol.  III.,  p.  378)— 

that  idol  proudly  named 
"  The  Wealth  of  Nations,"  .  — ED. 


HUMANITY.  21*7 

There  are  to  whom  the 1  garden,  grove,  and  field, 

Perpetual  lessons  of  forbearance  yield ; 

Who  would  not  lightly  violate  the  grace 

The  lowliest  flower  possesses  in  its  place ; 

Nor  shorten  the  sweet  life,  too  fugitive, 

Which  nothing  less  than  Infinite  Power  could  give.* 


Comp.  1839.     Pub.  1835. 

[This  Lawn  is  the  sloping  one  approaching  the  kitchen-garden,  and 
was  made  out  of  it.  Hundreds  of  times  have  I  watched  the  dancing 
of  shadows  amid  a  press  of  sunshine,  and  other  beautiful  appearances 
of  light  and  shade,  flowers  and  shrubs.  What  a  contrast  between  this 
and  the  cabbages  and  onions  and  carrots  that  used  to  grow  there  on  a 
piece  of  ugly-shaped  unsightly  ground  !  No  reflection,  however,  either 
upon  cabbages  or  onions  ;  the  latter  we  know  were  worshipped  by  the 
Egyptians,  and  he  must  have  a  poor  eye  for  beauty  who  has  not 
observed  how  much  of  it  there  is  in  the  form  and  colour  which 
cabbages  and  plants  of  that  genus  exhibit  through  the  various  stages 
of  their  growth  and  decay.  A  richer  display  of  colour  in  vegetable 
nature  can  scarcely  be  conceived  than  Coleridge,  my  sister,  and  I  saw 
in  a  bed  of  potato-plants  in  blossom  near  a  hut  upon  the  moor  between 
Inversneyd  and  Loch  Katrine.*  These  blossoms  were  of  such  extra- 
ordinary beauty  and  richness  that  no  one  could  have  passed  them 
without  notice.  But  the  sense  must  be  cultivated  through  the  mind 

1  1837. 

eternal  laws. 

There  are  to  whom  even        ....  1835. 

*  Compare  the  closing  lines  of  the  Ode  on  Immortality — 

"  To  me  the  meanest  flower  that  blows  can  give 
Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears.  — ED. 

*  In  1803,  Miss  Wordsworth  thus  records  it :— "  We  passed  by  one  patch 
of  potatoes  that  a  florist  might  have  been  proud  of  ;  no  carnation-bed  ever 
looked  more  gay  than  this  square  plot  of  ground  on  the  waste  common. 
The  flowers  were  in  very  large  bunches,  and  of  an  extraordinary  size,  and 
of  every  conceivable  shade  of  colouring  from  snow-white  to  deep  purple. 
It  was  pleasing  in  that  place,  where  perhaps  was  never  yet  a  flower 
cultivated  by  man  for  his  own  pleasure,  to  see  these  blossoms  grow  more 
gladly  than    elsewhere,    making   a    summer   garden  near  the    mountain 
dwellings."— (Recollections  of  a  Tour  made  in  Scotland  in  1803,  p.  84).— ED. 


218  THIS  LAWN,  A  CARPET  ALL  ALIVE. 

before  we  can  perceive  these  inexhaustible  treasures  of  Nature,  for 
such  they  really  are,  without  the  least  necessary  reference  to  the 
utility  of  her  productions,  or  even  to  the  land,  whereupon,  as  we  learn 
by  research,  they  are  dependent.  Some  are  of  opinion  that  the  habit 
of  analysing,  decomposing,  and  anatomising,  is  inevitably  unfavourable 
to  the  perception  of  beauty.  People  are  led  into  this  mistake  by  over- 
looking the  fact  that  such  processes  being  to  a  certain  extent  within 
the  reach  of  a  limited  intellect,  we  are  apt  to  ascribe  to  them  that 
insensibility  of  which  they  are  in  truth  the  effect  and  not  the  cause. 
Admiration  and  love,  to  which  all  knowledge  truly  vital  must  tend, 
are  felt  by  men  of  real  genius  in  proportion  as  their  discoveries  in 
natural  Philosophy  are  enlarged  ;  and  the  beauty  in  form  of  a  plant  or 
an  animal  is  not  made  less  but  more  apparent  as  a  whole  by  more 
accurate  insight  into  its  constituent  properties  and  powers.  A  Savant 
who  is  not  also  a  poet  in  soul  and  a  religionist  in  heart  is  a  feeble  and 
unhappy  creature.] 

THIS  Lawn,  a  carpet  all  alive 

With  shadows  flung  from  leaves — to  strive 

In  dance,  amid  a  press 
Of  sunshine,  an  apt  emblem  yields 
Of  Worldlings  revelling  in  the  fields 

Of  strenuous  idleness ; 


Less  quick  the  stir  when  tide  and  breeze 
Encounter,  and  to  narrow  seas 

Forbid  a  moment's  rest ; 
The  medley  less  when  boreal  Lights 
Glance  to  and  fro,  like  aery  Sprites 

To  feats  of  arms  addrest ! 

Yet,  spite  of  all  this  eager  strife, 
This  ceaseless  play,  the  genuine  life 

That  serves  the  stedfast  hours 
Is  in  the  grass  beneath,  that  grows 
Unheeded,  and  the  mute  repose 

Of  sweetly-breathing  flowers. 


THOUGHT  ON  THE  SEASONS.          219 

THOUGHT  ON  THE  SEASONS. 

Comp.  1829.     Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Kydal  Mount.] 

FLATTEKED  with  promise  of  escape 

From  every  hurtful  blast, 
Spring  takes,  0  sprightly  May  !  thy  shape  ; 

Her  loveliest  and  her  last.* 


Less  fair  is  summer  riding  high 

In  fierce  solstitial  power, 
Less  fair  than  when  a  lenient  sky 

Brings  on  her  parting  hour. 

When  earth  repays  with  golden  sheaves 

The  labours  of  the  plough, 
And  ripening  fruits  and  forest  leaves 

All  brighten  on  the  bough ; 

What  pensive  beauty  autumn  shows, 

Before  she  hears  the  sound 
Of  winter  rushing  in,  to  close 

The  emblematic  round ! 

Such  be  our  Spring,  our  Summer  such ; 

So  may  our  Autumn  blend 
With  hoary  Winter,  and  Life  touch, 

Through  heaven-born  hope,  her  end ! 

*  Compare  Ode,  composed  on  May  morniny,  1826  (p.  141)  j  also  To  May, 
1826  (p.  143).— ED. 


220       A  GRAVESTONE  IN  WORCESTER  CATHEDRAL. 


A    GRAVE-STONE    UPON    THE    FLOOR    IN    THE 
CLOISTEES  OF  WORCESTER  CATHEDRAL. 

Comp.  1829.*    Pub.  1832. 

["  Miserrimus."  Many  conjectures  have  been  formed  as  to  the 
person  who  lies  under  this  stone.  Nothing  appears  to  be  known  for  a 
certainty.  Query — The  Rev.  Mr  Morris,  a  non-conformist,  a  sufferer 
for  conscience-sake  ;  a  worthy  man  who,  having  been  deprived  of  his 
benefice  after  the  accession  of  William  III.,  lived  to  an  old  age  in 
extreme  destitution,  on  the  alms  of  charitable  Jacobites.] 

" MISERRIMUS!"  and  neither  name  nor  date, 
Prayer,  text,  or  symbol,  graven  upon  the  stone ;  t 
Nought  but  that  word  assigned  to  the  unknown, 
That  solitary  word — to  separate 
From  all,  and  cast  a  cloud  around  the  fate 
Of  him  who  lies  beneath.     Most  wretched  one, 
Who  chose  his  epitaph  ? — Himself  alone 
Could  thus  have  dared  the  grave  to  agitate, 
And  claim,  among  the  dead,  this  awful  crown ; 
Nor  doubt  that  He  marked  also  for  his  own 
Close  to  these  cloistral  steps  a  burial-place, 
That  every  foot  might  fall  with  heavier  tread, 
Trampling  upon  his  vileness.     Stranger,  pass 
Softly ! — To  save  the  contrite,  Jesus  bled. 


*  This,  and  the  following  sonnet  on  the  tradition  of  Oker  Hill,  were  first 
published  in  The  Keepsake  in  1829. — ED. 

f  This  stone  is  in  the  cloisters  of  Worcester  Cathedral,  at  the  north- 
west corner  of  the  quadrangle,  just  below  the  doorway  leading  into  the 
nave  of  the  cathedral.  It  is  a  small  stone,  two  feet,  by  one  and  a  half. 
The  Reverend  Thomas  Maurice  (or  Morris),  refused  to  take  the  oath  of 
allegiance  at  the  Revolution  Settlement,  and  was  accordingly  deprived  of 
his  benefice.  He  was  a  canon  of  Claims. — ED. 


A  TRADITION  OF  OKEH  HILL.  221 


A  TEADITION  OF  OKEE  HILL  IN  DAELEY  DALE, 
DEEBYSHIEE.1 

Comp.  1829.     Pub.  1832. 

[This  pleasing  tradition  was  told  me  by  the  coachman  at  whose  side 
I  sate  while  he  drove  down  the  dale,  he  pointing  to  the  trees  on  the 
hill  as  he  related  the  story.] 

'Tis  said  that  to  the  brow  of  yon  fair  hill 

Two  Brothers  clomb,  and,  turning  face  from  face, 

Nor  one  look  more  exchanging,  grief  to  still 

Or  feed,  each  planted  on  that  lofty  place 

A  chosen  Tree ;  *  then,  eager  to  fulfil 

Their  courses,  like  two  new-born  rivers,  they 

In  opposite  directions  urged  their  way 

Down  from  the  far-seen  mount.     No  blast  might  kill 

Or  blight  that  fond  memorial ; — the  trees  grew, 

And  now  entwine  their  arms ;  but  ne'er  again 

Embraced  those  Brothers  upon  Earth's  wide  plain ; 

Nor  aught  of  mutual  joy  or  sorrow  knew 

Until  their  spirits  mingled  in  the  sea 

That  to  itself  takes  all,  Eternity. 

1  1837. 

Tradition  of  Darley  Dale,  Derbyshire.  1832. 

*  This  tree  may  still  be  seen  (1885).— ED. 


222  THE  ARMENIAN  LADY'S  LOVE. 


1830. 

The  Poems  written  in  1830  include,  The  Armenian  Lady's  Love,  The 
Russian  Fugitive,  The  Egyptian  Maid,  the  Elegiac  Stanzas  on  Sir 
George  Beaumont,  a  couple  of  sonnets,  and  several  minor  pieces. 


THE  AKMENTAN  LADY'S  LOVE. 

Comp.  1830.     Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Kydal  Mount.] 

The  subject  of  the  following  poem  is  from  the  Orlandus  of  the 
author's  friend,  Kenelm  Henry  Digby  :  and  the  liberty  is  taken  of 
inscribing  it  to  him  as  an  acknowledgment,  however  unworthy,  of 
pleasure  and  instruction  derived  from  his  numerous  and  valuable 
writings,  illustrative  of  the  piety  and  chivalry  of  the  olden  time. 


You  have  heard  '  a  Spanish  Lady 

How  she  wooed  an  English  man ;'  * 
Hear  now  of  a  fair  Armenian, 

Daughter  of  the  proud  Soldan ; 
How  she  loved  a  Christian  Slave,  and  told  her  pain 
By  word,  look,  deed,  with  hope  that  he  might  love  again. 

II. 

"  Pluck  that  rose,  it  moves  my  liking," 

Said  she,  lifting  up  her  veil ; 
"  Pluck  it  for  me,  gentle  gardener, 

Ere  it  wither  and  grow  pale." 
"  Princess  fair,  I  till  the  ground,  but  may  not  take 
From  twig  or  bed  an  humbler  flower,  even  for  your  sake !" 


*  See,  in  Percy's  Reliques,  that  fine  old  ballad,  "  The  Spanish  Lady's 
Love;"  from  which  Poem  the  form  of  stanza,  as  suitable  to  dialogue,  is 
adopted.— W.  W.,  1835. 


THE  ARMENIAN  LADY'S  LOVE.         223 


III. 

"  Grieved  am  I,  submissive  Christian  ! 

To  behold  thy  captive  state  ; 
Women,  in  your  land,  may  pity 

(May  they  not  ?)  the  unfortunate." 
"  Yes,  kind  Lady  !  otherwise  man  could  not  bear 
Life,  which  to  every  one  that  breathes  is  full  of  care." 

IV. 

"  Worse  than  idle  is  compassion 
If  it  end  in  tears  and  sighs ; 
Thee  from  bondage  would  I  rescue 

And  from  vile  indignities ; 
Nurtured,  as  thy  mien  bespeaks,  in  high  degree, 
Look  up — and  help  a  hand  that  longs  to  set  thee  free." 

v. 

"  Lady  !  dread  the  wish,  nor  venture 

In  such  peril  to  engage ; 
Think  how  it  would  stir  against  you 

Your  most  loving  father's  rage : 
Sad  deliverance  would  it  be,  and  yoked  with  shame, 
Should  troubles  overflow  on  her  from  whom  it  came." 

VI. 

"  Generous  Frank  !  the  just  in  effort 

Are  of  inward  peace  secure  : 
Hardships  for  the  brave  encountered. 

Even  the  feeblest  may  endure : 
If  almighty  grace  through  me  thy  chains  unbind 
My  father  for  slave's  work  may  seek  a  slave  in  mind." 


224  THE  ARMENIAN  LADY?S  LOVE. 

VII. 

"  Princess,  at  this  burst  of  goodness, 

My  long-frozen  heart  grows  warm !" 
"  Yet  you  make  all  courage  fruitless, 
Me  to  save  from  chance  of  harm : 
Leading  such  companion,  I  that  gilded  dome, 
Yon  minarets,  would  gladly  leave  for  his  worst  home." 

VIII. 

"  Feeling  tunes  your  voice,  fair  Princess  ! 

And  your  brow  is  free  from  scorn, 
Else  these  words  would  come  like  mockery, 

Sharper  than  the  pointed  thorn." 
"  Whence  the  undeserved  mistrust  ?     Too  wide  apart 
Our  faith  hath  been, — 0  would  that  eyes  could  see  the  heart ! ' 

IX. 

"  Tempt  me  not,  I  pray ;  my  doom  is 

These  base  implements  to  wield ; 
Kusty  lance,  I  ne'er  shall  grasp  thee, 
Ne'er  assoil  my  cobwebb'd  shield ! 
Never  see  my  native  land,  nor  castle  towers, 
Nor  Her  who  thinking  of  me  there  counts  widowed  hours." 


x. 

"  Prisoner  !  pardon  youthful  fancies  ; 

"Wedded?     If  you  can,  say  no  ! 
Blessed  is  and  be  your  consort ; 

Hopes  I  cherished — let  them  go  ! 
Handmaid's  privilege  would  leave  my  purpose  free, 
Without  another  link  to  my  felicity." 


THE  ARMENIAN  LADY'S  LOVE.         225 

XL 

"  Wedded  love  with  loyal  Christians, 

Lady,  is  a  mystery  rare ; 
Body,  heart,  and  soul  in  union, 

Make  one  being  of  a  pair." 
"  Humble  love  in  me  would  look  for  no  return, 
Soft  as  a  guiding  star  that  cheers,  but  cannot  burn." 

XIL 

"  Gracious  Allah  !  by  such  title 
Do  I  dare  to  thank  the  God, 
Him  who  thus  exalts  thy  spirit, 
Flower  of  an  unchristian  sod  ! 

Or  hast  thou  put  off  wings  which  thou  in  heaven  dost  wear  ? 
What  have  I  seen,  and  heard,  or  dreamt  ?   where  am  I  ? 
where  ?" 

xm. 

Here  broke  off  the  dangerous  converse : 

Less  impassioned  words  might  tell 
How  the  pair  escaped  together, 

Tears  not  wanting,  nor  a  knell 

Of  sorrow  in  her  heart  while  through  her  father's  door, 
And  from  her  narrow  world,  she  passed  for  evermore. 

XIV. 

But  affections  higher,  holier, 

Urged  her  steps ;  she  shrunk  from  trust 
In  a  sensual  creed  that  trampled 
Woman's  birthright  into  dust. 
Little  be  the  wonder  then,  the  blame  be  none, 
If  she,  a  timid  Maid,  hath  put  such  boldness  on. 
VII.  P 


226  THE  ARMENIAN  LADY*S  LOVE. 


XV. 

Judge  both  Fugitives  with  knowledge  : 

In  those  old  romantic  days 
Mighty  were  the  soul's  commandments 

To  support,  restrain,  or  raise. 

Foes  might  hang  upon  their  path,  snakes  rustle  near, 
But  nothing  from  their  inward  selves  had  they  to  fear. 


XVI. 

Thought  infirm  ne'er  came  between  them 

Whether  printing  desert  sands 
With  accordant  steps,  or  gathering 
Forest-fruit  with  social  hands  ; 

Or  whispering  like  two  reeds  that  in  the  cold  moonbeam 
Bend  with  the  breeze  their  heads,  beside  a  crystal  stream. 

XVII. 

On  a  friendly  deck  reposing 

They  at  length  for  Venice  steer ; 
There,  when  they  had  closed  their  voyage, 

One,  who  daily  on  the  pier 

Watched  for  tidings  from  the  East,  beheld  his  Lord, 
Fell  down  and  clasped  his  knees  for  joy,  not  uttering  word. 

XVIII. 

Mutual  was  the  sudden  transport ; 

Breathless  questions  followed  fast, 
Years  contracting  to  a  moment, 

Each  word  greedier  than  the  last ; 
"  Hie  thee  to  the  Countess,  friend !  return  with  speed, 
And  of  this  Stranger  speak  by  whom  her  lord  was  freed. 


THE  ARMENIAN  LADY'S  LOVE.          227 

XIX. 

Say  that  I,  who  might  have  languished, 

Drooped  and  pined  till  life  was  spent, 
Now  before  the  gates  of  Stolberg  * 

My  Deliverer  would  present 
For  a  crowning  recompense,  the  precious  grace 
Of  her  who  in  my  heart  still  holds  her  ancient  place. 

xx. 

Make  it  known  that  my  Companion 

Is  of  royal  eastern  blood, 
Thirsting  after  all  perfection, 

Innocent,  and  meek,  and  good, 

Though  with  misbelievers  bred ;  but  that  dark  night 
Will  holy  Church  disperse  by  beams  of  gospel-light." 

XXI. 

Swiftly  went  that  grey-haired  Servant, 

Soon  returned  a  trusty  Page 
Charged  with  greetings,  benedictions, 

Thanks  and  praises,  each  a  gage 
For  a  sunny  thought  to  cheer  the  Stranger's  way, 
Her  virtuous  scruples  to  remove,  her  fears  allay. 

xxn. 

And  how  blest  the  Eeunited, 

While  beneath  their  castle-walls, 

Kuns  a  deafening  noise  of  welcome  ! — 
Blest,  thqugh  every  tear  that  falls 

*  A  small  town  in  Prussian-Saxony,  the  residence  of  the  Counts  of 
Stolberg-Stolberg.  — ED. 


228         THE  ARMENIAN  LADY*S  LOVE. 

Doth  in  its  silence  of  past  sorrow  tell, 

And  makes1  a  meeting  seem  most  like  a  dear  farewell. 

XXIII. 

Through  a  haze  of  human  nature, 

Glorified  by  heavenly  light, 
Looked  the  beautiful  Deliverer 
On  that  overpowering  sight, 

While  across  her  virgin  cheek  pure  blushes  strayed, 
For  every  tender  sacrifice  her  heart  had  made. 

XXIV. 

On  the  ground  the  weeping  Countess 

Knelt,  and  kissed  the  Stranger's  hand ; 
Act  of  soul-devoted  homage, 

Pledge  of  an  eternal  band : 
Nor  did  aught  of  future  days  that  kiss  belie, 
Which,  with  a  generous  shout,  the  crowd  did  ratify. 


xxv. 

Constant  to  the  fair  Armenian, 

Gentle  pleasures  round  her  moved, 
Like  a  tutelary  spirit 

Eeverenced,  like  a  sister,  loved. 
Christian  meekness  smoothed  for  all  the  path  of  life, 
Who,  loving  most,  should  wiseliest  love,  their  only  strife. 

1   1836. 

Fancy  (while,  to  banners  floating 

High  on  Stolberg's  Castle  walls, 
Deafening  noise  of  welcome  mounted, 

Trumpets,  Drums,  and  Atabals,) 
The  devout  embraces  still,  while  such  tears  fell 
As  made  1835. 


THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE.  229 

XXVI. 
Mute  memento  of  that  union 

In  a  Saxon  church  survives, 
Where  a  cross-legged  Knight  lies  sculptured 

As  between  two  wedded  Wives — 
Figures  with  armorial  signs  of  race  and  birth, 
And  the  vain  rank  the  pilgrims  bore  while  yet  on  earth. 


THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE  * 
Comp.  1830.     Pub.  1835. 

[Early  in  life  this  story  had  interested  me,  and  I  often  thought  it 
would  make  a  pleasing  subject  for  an  opera  or  musical  drama.] 

PAKT  L 

ENOUGH  of  rose-bud  lips,  and  eyes 
Like  harebells  bathed  in  dew, 

Of  cheek  that  with  carnation  vies 
And  veins  of  violet  hue  ;t 

*  Peter  Henry  Bruce,  having  given  in  his  entertaining  Memoirs  the  sub- 
stance of  this  Tale  affirms  that,  besides  the  concurring  reports  of  others,  he 
had  the  story  from  the  lady's  own  mouth. 

The  Lady  Catherine,  mentioned  towards  the  close,  is  the  famous 
Catherine,  then  bearing  that  name  as  the  acknowledged  Wife  of  Peter  the 
Great.— W.  W.,  1835. 

The  title  of  this  poem  in  the  MS.  copy  by  Mrs  Wordsworth  is— 

INA, 
OB, 

THE   LODGE   IN  THE   FOREST, 

A  Russian  Tale.  —ED. 

t  Compare  S.  T.  Coleridge's  verses,  To  a  Lady — 
"  'Tis  not  the  lily  brow  I  prize, 
Nor  roseate  cheeks,  nor  sunny  eyes, 
Enough  of  lilies,  and  of  roses  ; 
A  thousand-fold  more  dear  to  me, 
The  look  that  gentle  Love  discloses, — 
That  look  which  love  alone  can  see. " 

Also  Keats'  lines  beginning— 

"  Woman  !  when  I  beheld  thee  flippant,  vain."  — ED. 


230  THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE. 

Earth  wants  not  beauty  that  may  scorn 

A  likening  to  frail  flowers ; 
Yea,  to  the  stars,  if  they  were  born1 

For  seasons  and  for  hours. 

Through  Moscow's  gates,  with  gold  unbarred,2 

Stepped  One  at  dead  of  night, 
Whom  such  high  beauty  could  not  guard 

From  meditated  blight ; 
By  stealth  she  passed,  and  fled  as  fast 

As  doth  the  hunted  fawn, 
Nor  stopped,  till  in  the  dappling  east 

Appeared  unwelcome  dawn. 

Seven  days  she  lurked  in  brake  and  field, 

Seven  nights  her  course  renewed, 
Sustained  by  what  her  scrip  might  yield, 

Or  berries  of  the  wood ; 
At  length,  in  darkness  travelling  on, 

When  lowly  doors  were  shut, 
The  haven  of  her  hope  she  won, 

Her  Foster-mother's  hut. 

"  To  put  your  love  to  dangerous  proof 

I  come,"  said  she,  "  from  far ; 
For  I  have  left  my  Father's  roof, 

In  terror  of  the  Czar." 
No  answer  did  the  Matron  give, 

No  second  look  she  cast, 
But  hung  upon  the  Fugitive,3 

Embracing  and  embraced. 

1  1835. 

Yea,  to  the  stars  themselves,  if  born  C. 

by  gold  unbarred, 

MS.  copy  by  Mrs  Wordsworth. 
3  1837. 

She  hung  upon  ....  1835 


THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE.  231 

She  led  the l  Lady  to  a  seat 

Beside  the  glimmering  fire, 
Bathed  duteously  her  way-worn  feet, 

Prevented  each  desire  : — 
The  cricket  chirped,  the  house-dog  dozed, 

And  on  that  simple  bed, 
Where  she  in  childhood  had  reposed, 

Now  rests  her  weary  head. 

When  she,  whose  couch  had  been  the  sod, 

Whose  curtain,  pine  or  thorn, 
Had  breathed  a  sigh  of  thanks  to  God, 

Who  comforts  the  forlorn ; 
While  over  her  the  Matron  bent 

Sleep  sealed  her  eyes,  and  stole 
Feeling  from  limbs  with  travel  spent, 

And  trouble  from  the  soul 

Refreshed,  the  Wanderer  rose  at  morn. 

And  soon  again  was  dight 
In  those  unworthy  vestments  worn 

Through  long  and  perilous  flight ; 
And  "  O  beloved  Nurse,"  she  said, 

"  My  thanks  with  silent  tears 
Have  unto  Heaven  and  You  been  paid : 

Now  listen  to  my  fears ! 

"  Have  you  forgot " — and  here  she  smiled — 

"  The  babbling  flatteries 
You  lavished  on  me  when  a  child 

"  Disporting  round  your  knees  ? 

1  1837. 

She  led  her  isa>. 


232  THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE. 

I  was  your  lambkin,  and  your  bird, 
Your  star,  your  gem,  your  flower ; 

Light  words,  that  were  more  lightly  heard 
In  many  a  cloudless  hour ! 

"  The  blossom  you  so  fondly  praised 

Is  come  to  bitter  fruit ; 
A  mighty  One  upon  me  gazed ; 

I  spurned  his  lawless  suit, 
And  must  be  hidden  from  his  wrath  i1 

You,  Foster-father  dear, 
Will  guide  me  in  my  forward  path ; 

I  may  not  tarry  here ! 

"  I  cannot  bring  to  utter  woe 

Your  proved  fidelity." — 
"  Dear  Child,  sweet  Mistress,  say  not  so ! 

For  you  we  both  would  die." 
"  Nay,  nay,  I  come  with  semblance  feigned 

And  cheek  embrowned  by  art ; 
Yet,  being  inwardly  unstained, 

With  courage  will  depart." 

"  But  whither  would  you,  could  you,  flee  ? 

A  poor  Man's  counsel  take ; 
The  Holy  Virgin  gives  to  me 

A  thought  for  your  dear  sake ; 
Eest,  shielded  by  our  Lady's  grace, 

And  soon  shall  you  be  led 
Forth  to  a  safe  abiding-place, 

Where  never  foot  doth  tread." 

1  1835. 

And  I  must  hide  me  from  his  wrath.  MS. 


THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE.  233 

PART  II. 

THE  dwelling  of  this  faithful  pair 

In  a  straggling  village  stood, 
For  One  who  breathed  unquiet  air 

A  dangerous  neighbourhood ; 
But  wide  around  lay  forest  ground 

With  thickets  rough  and  blind ; 
And  pine-trees  made  a  heavy  shade 

Impervious  to  the  wind. 

And  there,  sequestered  from  the  sight, 

Was  spread  a  treacherous  swamp, 
On  which  the  noon-day  sun  shed  light 

As  from  a  lonely  lamp ; 
And  midway  in  the  unsafe  morass, 

A  single  Island  rose 
Of  firm  dry  ground,  with  healthful  grass 

Adorned,  and  shady  boughs. 

The  Woodman  knew,  for  such  the  craft 

This  Eussian  vassal  plied, 
That  never  fowler's  gun,  nor  shaft 

Of  archer,  there  was  tried ; 
A  sanctuary  seemed  the  spot 

From  all  intrusion  free ; 
And  there  he  planned  an  artful  Cot 

For  perfect  secrecy. 

With  earnest  pains  unchecked  by  dread 

Of  Power's  far-stretching  hand, 
The  bold  good  Man  his  labour  sped, 

At  nature's  pure  command ; 


234  THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE. 

Heart-soothed,  and  busy  as  a  wren, 

While,  in  a  hollow  nook, 
She  moulds  her  sight-eluding  den 

Above  a  murmuring  brook. 

His  task  accomplished  to  his  mind, 

The  twain  ere  break  of  day 
Creep  forth,  and  through  the  forest  wind 

Their  solitary  way ; 
Few  words  they  speak,  nor  dare  to  slack 

Their  pace  from  mile  to  mile, 
Till  they  have  crossed  the  quaking  marsh, 

And  reached  the  lonely  Isle. 

The  sun  above  the  pine-trees  showed 

A  bright  and  cheerful  face ; 
And  Ina  looked  for  her  abode, 

The  promised  hiding-place ; 
She  sought  in  vain,  the  Woodman  smiled ; 

No  threshold  could  be  seen, 
Nor  roof,  nor  window ; — all  seemed  wild 

As  it  had  ever  been. 

Advancing,  you  might  guess  an  hour, 

The  front  with  such  nice  care 
Is  masked,  '  if  house  it  be  or  bower,' 

But  in  they  entered  are ; 
As  shaggy  as  were  wall  and  roof 

With  branches  intertwined, 
So  smooth  was  all  within,  air-proof, 

And  delicately  lined : 

And  hearth  was  there,  and  maple  dish, 

And  cups  in  seemly  rows, 
And  couch — all  ready  to  a  wish 

For  nurture  or  repose ; 


THE  KUSSIAN  FUGITIVE.  235 

And  Heaven  doth  to  her  virtue  grant 

That  here  she  may  abide 
In  solitude,  with  every  want 

By  cautious  love  supplied. 

No  queen,  before  a  shouting  crowd, 

Led  on  in  bridal  state, 
E'er  struggled  with  a  heart  so  proud, 

Entering  her  palace  gate ; 
Eejoiced  to  bid  the  world  farewell, 

No  saintly  anchoress 
E'er  took  possession  of  her  cell 

With  deeper  thankfulness. 

"  Father  of  all,  upon  thy  care 

And  mercy  am  I  thrown ; 
Be  thou  my  safeguard  !" — such  her  prayer 

When  she  was  left  alone, 
Kneeling  amid  the  wilderness 

When  joy  had  passed  away, 
And  smiles,  fond  efforts  of  distress 

To  hide  what  they  betray  ! x 

The  prayer  is  heard,  the  Saints  have  seen, 

Diffused  through  form  and  face, 
Eesolves  devotedly  serene ; 

That  monumental  grace 
Of  Faith,  which  doth  all  passions  tame2 

That  Keason  should  control ; 
And  shows  in  the  untrembling  frame 

A  statue  of  the  soul. 

1  1835. 

And  smiles,  the  sunshine  of  distress, 

That  hide — yet  more  betray.  MS. 

2  1835. 

serene ; 

Exalting  lowly  grace, 
A  Faith  which  does  MS. 


236  THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE. 

PART  III. 

'Tis  sung  in  ancient  minstrelsy 

That  Phoebus  wont  to  wear 
The  leaves  of  any  pleasant  tree 

Around  his  golden  hair  ;* 
Till  Daphne,  desperate  with  pursuit 

Of  his  imperious  love, 
At  her  own  prayer  transformed,  took  root, 

A  laurel  in  the  grove. 

Then  did  the  Penitent  adorn 

His  brow  with  laurel  green ; 
And  'mid  his  bright  locks  never  shorn 

No  meaner  leaf  was  seen ; 
And  poets  sage,  through  every  age, 

About  their  temples  wound 
The  bay ;  and  conquerors  thanked  the  Gods, 

With  laurel  cfyaplets  crowned. 

Into  the  mists  of  fabling  Time 

So  far  runs  back  the  praise 
Of  Beauty,  that  disdains  to  climb 

Along  forbidden  ways ; 
That  scorns  temptation ;  power  defies 

Where  mutual  love  is  not ; 
And  to  the  tomb  for  rescue  flies 

When  life  would  be  a  blot. 

To  this  fair  Votaress,  a  fate 

More  mild  doth  Heaven  ordain 
Upon  her  Island  desolate  ; 

And  words,  not  breathed  in  vain, 

*  From  Golding's  Translation  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses.     See  also  his 
Dedicatory  Epistle  prefixed  to  the  same  work.— W.  W,,  1835. 


THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE.  237 

Might  tell  what  intercourse  she  found, 

Her  silence  to  endear ; 
What  birds  she  tamed,  what  flowers  the  ground 

Sent  forth  her  peace  to  cheer. 

To  one  mute  Presence,  above  all, 

Her  soothed  affections  clung, 
A  picture  on  the  cabin  wall 

By  Eussian  usage  hung — 
The  Mother-maid,*  whose  countenance  bright 

With  love  abridged  the  day ; 
And,  communed  with  by  taper  light, 

Chased  spectral  fears  away. 

And  oft,  as  either  Guardian  came, 

The  joy  in  that  retreat 
Might  any  common  friendship  shame, 

So  high  their  hearts  would  beat ; 
And  to  the  lone  Eecluse,  whate'er 

They  brought,  each  visiting 
Was  like  the  crowding  of  the  year 

With  a  new  burst  of  spring. 

But,  when  she  of  her  Parents  thought, 

The  pang  was  hard  to  bear ; 
And,  if  with  all  things  not  enwrought, 

That  trouble  still  is  near. 
Before  her  flight  she  had  not  dared 

Their  constancy  to  prove, 
Too  much  the  heroic  Daughter  feared 

The  weakness  of  their  love. 

*  "Not  a  Russian  house,  Bruce  tells  us,  was,  at  his  time,  without  a 
picture  of  the  Virgin." — (MS.  note  to  copy  of  the  Poems  in  Mrs  Words- 
worth's handwriting. ) — ED. 


238  THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE. 

Dark  is  the  past  to  them,  and  dark 

The  future  still  must  be, 
Till  pitying  Saints  conduct  her  bark 

Into  a  safer  sea — 
Or  gentle  Nature  close  her  eyes 

And  set  her  Spirit  free 
From  the  altar  of  this  sacrifice, 

In  vestal  purity. 

Yet,  when  above  the  forest-glooms 

The  white  swans  southward  passed, 
High  as  the  pitch  of  their  swift  plumes 

Her  fancy  rode  the  blast ; 
And  bore  her  toward  the  fields  of  France, 

Her  father's  native  land, 
To  mingle  in  the  rustic  dance, 

The  happiest  of  the  band  ! 

Of  those  beloved  fields  she  oft 

Had  heard  her  Father  tell 
In  phrase  that  now  with  echoes  soft 

Haunted  her  lonely  cell ; 
She  saw  the  hereditary  bowers, 

She  heard  the  ancestral  stream ; 
The  Kremlin*  and  its  haughty  towers 

Forgotten  like  a  dream  ! 


PART  IV. 

The  ever-changing  moon  had  traced 
Twelve  times  her  monthly  round, 

When  through  the  unfrequented  Waste 
Was  heard  a  startling  sound ; 

*  The  Royal  Palace  at  Moscow.— ED. 


THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE.  239 

A  shout  thrice  sent  from  one  who  chased 

At  speed  a  wounded  deer, 
Bounding  through  branches  interlaced, 

And  where  the  wood  was  clear. 

The  fainting  creature  took  the  marsh, 

And  toward  the  Island  fled, 
While  plovers  screamed  with  tumult  harsh 

Above  his  autlered  head ; 
This,  Ina  saw ;  and,  pale  with  fear, 

Shrunk  to  her  citadel ; 
The  desperate  deer  rushed  on,  and  near 

The  tangled  covert  fell. 

Across  the  marsh,  the  game  in  view, 

The  Hunter  followed  fast, 
Nor  paused,  till  o'er  the  stag  he  blew 

A  death-proclaiming  blast ; 
Then,  resting  on  her  upright  mind, 

Came  forth  the  Maid — "  In  me 
Behold,"  she  said,  "  a  stricken  Hind 

Pursued  by  destiny ! 

"  From  your  deportment,  Sir !  I  deem 

That  you  have  worn  a  sword, 
And  will  not  hold  in  light  esteem 

A  suffering  woman's  word ; 
There  is  my  covert,  there  perchance 

I  might  have  lain  concealed, 
My  fortunes  hid,  my  countenance 

Not  even  to  you  revealed. 

"  Tears  might  be  shed,  and  I  might  pray, 

Crouching  and  terrified, 
That  what  has  been  unveiled  to-day, 

You  would  in  mystery  hide ; 


240  THE  EUSSIAN  FUGITIVE. 

But  I  will  not  defile  with  dust 
The  knee  that  bends  to  adore 

The  God  in  heaven  ; — attend,  be  just ; 
This  ask  I,  and  no  more  ! 

"  I  speak  not  of  the  winter's  cold, 

For  summer's  heat  exchanged, 
While  I  have  lodged  in  this  rough  hold, 

.From  social  life  estranged ; 
Nor  yet  of  trouble  and  alarms : 

High  Heaven  is  my  defence ; 
And  every  season  has  soft  arms 

For  injured  Innocence. 

"  From  Moscow  to  the  Wilderness 

It  was  my  choice  to  come, 
Lest  virtue  should  be  harbourless, 

And  honour  want  a  home ; 
And  happy  were  I,  if  the  Czar 

Eetain  his  lawless  will, 
To  end  life  here  like  this  poor  deer, 

Or  a  lamb  on  a  green  hill." 

"  Are  you  the  Maid,"  the  Stranger  cried, 

•"  From  Gallic  parents  sprung, 
Whose  vanishing  was  rumoured  wide 

Sad  theme  for  every  tongue ; 
Who  foiled  an  Emperor's  eager  quest  ? 

You,  Lady,  forced  to  wear 
These  rude  habiliments,  and  rest 

Your  head  in  this  dark  lair  ! " 

But  wonder,  pity,  soon  were  quelled ; 

And  in  her  face  and  mien 
The  soul's  pure  brightness  he  beheld 

Without  a  veil  between  ; 


THE  EUSSIAN  FUGITIVE.  241 

He  loved,  he  hoped, — a  holy  flame 

Kindled  'mid  rapturous  tears ; 
The  passion  of  a  moment  came 

As  on  the  wings  of  years. 

"  Such  bounty  is  no  gift  of  chance," 

Exclaimed  he ;  "  righteous  Heaven, 
Preparing  your  deliverance, 

To  me  the  charge  hath  given. 
The  Czar  full  oft  in  words  and  deeds 

Is  stormy  and  self-willed ; 
But,  when  the  Lady  Catherine  pleads, 

His  violence  is  stilled. 

"  Leave  open  to  my  wish  the  course, 

And  I  to  her  will  go ; 
From  that  humane  and  heavenly  source, 

Good,  only  good,  can  flow." 
Faint  sanction  given,  the  Cavalier 

Was  eager  to  depart 
Though  question  followed  question,  dear 

To  the  Maiden's  filial  heart.1 

Light  was  his  step, — his  hopes,  more  light, 

Kept  pace  with  his  desire ; 
And  the  fifth  2  morning  gave  him  sight 

Of  Moscow's  glittering  spires. 

1  1835. 

the  Cavalier 

Kecounted  all  he  knew, 
The  sufferer's  filial  heart  to  cheer  ; 

Then  hastily  withdrew.  MS. 

2  1837. 

third 1835. 

VII.  Q 


242  THE  RUSSIAN  FUGITIVE. 

He  sued : — heart-smitten  by  the  wrong, 

To  the  lorn.  Fugitive 
The  Emperor  sent  a  pledge  as  strong 

As  sovereign  power  could  give. 

0  more  than  mighty  change !     If  e'er 

Amazement  rose  to  pain, 
And  joy's  excess  1  produced  a  fear 

Of  something  void  and  vain  ; 
'Twas  when  the  Parents,  who  had  mourned 

So  long  the  lost  as  dead, 
Beheld  their  only  Child  returned, 

The  household  floor  to  tread. 

Soon  gratitude  gave  way  to  love 

Within  the  Maiden's  breast : 
Delivered  and  Deliverer  move 

In  bridal  garments  drest. 
Meek  Catherine  had  her  own  reward ; 

The  Czar  bestowed  a  dower ; 
And  universal  Moscow  shared 

The  triumph  of  that  hour. 

Flowers  strewed  the  ground ;  the  nuptial  feast 

Was  held  with  costly  state ; 
And  there,  'mid  many  a  noble  guest, 

The  Foster-parents  sate ; 
Encouraged  by  the  imperial  eye, 

They  shrank  not  into  shade ; 
Great  was  their  bliss,  the  honour  high 

To  them  and  nature  paid  ! 

1  1837. 

And  over-joy 1835. 


THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID.  243 

THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID; 

OR,    THE   ROMANCE   OF   THE   WATER   LILY. 

Comp.  1830.     Pub.  1835. 

For  the  names  and  persons  in  the  following  poem,  see  the  "  History 
of  the  renowned  Prince  Arthur  and  his  Knights  of  the  Eound  Table  ; " 
for  the  rest  the  Author  is  answerable  ;  only  it  may  be  proper  to  add 
that  the  Lotus,  with  the  bust  of  the  Goddess  appearing  to  rise  out  of 
the  full-blown  flower,  was  suggested  by  the  beautiful  work  of  ancient 
art,  once  included  among  the  Townley  Marbles,  and  now  in  the  British 
Museum. 

[In  addition  to  the  short  notice  prefixed  to  this  poem,  it  may  be 
worth  while  here  to  say,  that  it  rose  out  of  a  few  words  casually  used 
in  conversation  by  my  nephew,  Henry  Hutchinson.  He  was  describing 
with  great  spirit  the  appearance  and  movement  of  a  vessel  which  he 
seemed  to  admire  more  than  any  other  he  had  ever  seen,  and  said  her 
name  was  the  Water  Lily.  This  plant  has  been  my  delight  from  my 
boyhood,  as  I  have  seen  it  floating  on  the  lake  ;  and  that  conversation 
put  me  upon  constructing  and  composing  the  poem.  Had  I  not  heard 
those  words,  it  would  never  have  been  written.  The  form  of  the 
stanza  is  new,  and  is  nothing  but  a  repetition  of  the  first  five  lines  as 
they  were  thrown  off,  and  is  not  perhaps  well  suited  to  narrative,  and 
certainly  would  not  have  been  trusted  to  had  I  thought  at  the  begin- 
ning that  the  poem  would  have  gone  to  such  a  length.] 

WHILE  Merlin  paced  the  Cornish  sands, 
Forth-looking  toward  the  rocks  of  Stilly, 
The  pleased  Enchanter  was  aware 
Of  a  bright  Ship,  that  seemed  to  hang  in  air, 
Yet  was  she  work  of  mortal  hands, 
And  took  from  men  her  name — THE  WATER  LILY. 

Soft  was  the  wind,  that  landward  blew ; 
And,  as  the  Moon,  o'er  some  dark  hill  ascendant, 
Grows  from  a  little  edge  of  light 
To  a  full  orb,  this  Pinnace  bright 
Became,  as  nearer  to  the  coast  she  drew, 
More  glorious,  with  spread  sail  and  streaming  pendant 


244  THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID. 

I'pon  this  winged  Shape  so  fair 

Merlin  gazed  with  admiration  : 
lit  r  lineaments,  thought  he,  surpass 
Aught  that  was  ever  shown  in  magic  glass ; 

ever  built  with  patient  care ; 
Or,  at  a  touch,  produced  by  happiest  transformation.1 

Now,  though  a  Mechanist,  whose  skill 
Shames  the  degenerate  grasp  of  modem  science, 
Grave  Merlin  (and  belike  the  more 
For  practising  occult  and  perilous  lore) 
Was  subject  to  a  freakish  will 
That  sapped  good  thoughts,  or  scared  them  with  defiance. 

Provoked  to  envious  spleen,  he  cast 
An  altered  look  upon  the  advancing  Stranger 
Whom  he  had  hailed  with  joy,  and  cried, 
My  Art  shall  help  to  tame  her  pride — " 
Anon  the  breeze  became  a  blast, 
And  the  waves  rose,  and  sky  portended  danger. 

With  thrilling  word,  and  potent  sign 
Traced  on  the  beach,  his  work  the  Sorcerer  urges ; 
The  clouds  in  blacker  clouds  are  lost, 
Like  spiteful  Fiends  that  vanish,  crossed 
By  Fiends  of  aspect  more  malign ; 
And  the  winds  roused  the  Deep  with  fiercer  scourges. 

But  worthy  of  the  name  she  bore 
Was  this  Sea-flower,  this  buoyant  Galley ; 
Supreme  in  loveliness  and  grace 
Of  motion,  whether  in  the  embrace 
Of  trusty  anchorage,  or  scudding  o'er 
The  main  flood  roughened  into  hill  and  valley. 

1  1837. 

Or,  at  a  toucli,  set  forth  with  wondrous  transformation. 


THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID.  245 

Behold,  how  wantonly  she  laves 
Her  sides,  the  Wizard's  craft  confounding ; 
Like  something  out  of  Ocean  sprung 
To  be  for  ever  fresh  and  young, 
Breasts  the  sea-flashes,  and  huge  waves 
Top-gallant  high,  rebounding  and  rebounding ! 

But  Ocean  under  magic  heaves, 
And  cannot  spare  the  Thing  he  cherished : 
Ah !  what  avails  that  she  was  fair, 
Luminous,  blithe,  and  debonair  ? 
The  storm  has  stripped  her  of  her  leaves ; 
The  Lily  floats  no  longer ! — she  hath  perished. 

Grieve  for  her, — she  deserves  no  less  ; 
So  like,  yet  so  unlike,  a  living  Creature ! 
No  heart  had  she,  no  busy  brain ; 
Though  loved,  she  could  not  love  again ; 
Though  pitied,  fed  her  own  distress  ; 
Xor  aught  that  troubles  us,  the  fools  of  Nature. 

Yet  is  there  cause  for  gushing  tears, 
So  richly  was  this  Galley  laden ; 
A  fairer  than  herself  she  bore, 
And,  in  her  struggles,  cast  ashore ; 
A  lovely  One,  who  nothing  hears 
Of  wind  or  wave — a  meek  and  guileless  Maiden. 

Into  a  cave  had  Merlin  fled 

From  mischief,  caused  by  spells  himself  had  muttered ; 
And  while,  repentant  all  too  late, 
In  moody  posture  there  he  sate, 
He  heard  a  voice,  and  saw,  with  half-raised  head, 
A  Visitant  by  whom  these  words  were  uttered ; 


246  THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID. 

"  On  Christian  service  this  frail  Bark 
Sailed  (hear  me,  Merlin !)  under  high  protection, 
Though  on  her  prow  a  sign  of  heathen  power 
Was  carved — a  Goddess  with  a  Lily  flower, 
The  old  Egyptian's  emblematic  mark 
Of  joy  immortal  and  of  pure  affection. 

Her  course  was  for  the  British  strand ; 
Her  freight,  it  was  a  Damsel  peerless ; 
God  reigns  above,  and  Spirits  strong 
May  gather  to  avenge  this  wrong 
Done  to  the  Princess,  and  her  Land 
Which  she  in  duty  left,  sad  but  not  cheerless.1 

And  to  Caerleon's  loftiest  tower 
Soon  will  the  Knights  of  Arthur's  Table 
A  cry  of  lamentation  send ; 
And  all  will  weep  who  there  attend, 
To  grace  that  Stranger's  bridal  hour, 
For  whom  the  sea  was  made  unnavigable. 

Shame !  should  a  Child  of  royal  line 
Die  through  the  blindness  of  thy  malice  I" 
Thus  to  the  Necromancer  spake 
Nina,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
A  gentle  Sorceress,  and  benign, 
Who  ne'er  embittered  any  good  man's  chalice. 

"  What  boots/'  continued  she,  "  to  mourn  ? 
To  expiate  thy  sin  endeavour : 
From  the  bleak  isle  where  she  is  laid, 
Fetched  by  our  art,  the  Egyptian  Maid 
May  yet  to  Arthur's  court  be  borne 
Cold  as  she  is,  ere  life  be  fled  for  ever. 

1  1837. 

,  though  sad  not  cheerless.  1835. 


THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID.  247 

My  pearly  Boat,  a  shining  Light, 
That  brought  me  down  that  sunless  river, 
Will  bear  me  on  from  wave  to  wave, 
And  back  with  her  to  this  sea-cave ; — 
Then  Merlin  !  for  a  rapid  flight 
Through  air,  to  thee  my  Charge  will  I  deliver. 

The  very  swiftest  of  thy  cars 
Must,  when  my  part  is  done,  be  ready ; 
Meanwhile,  for  further  guidance,  look 
Into  thy  own  prophetic  book ; 
And,  if  that  fail,  consult  the  Stars 
To  learn  thy  course ;  farewell !  be  prompt  and  steady." 

This  scarcely  spoken,  she  again 
Was  seated  in  her  gleaming  shallop, 
That,  o'er  the  yet-distempered  Deep, 
Pursued  its  way  with  bird-like  sweep, 
Or  like  a  steed,  without  a  rein, 
Urged  o'er  the  wilderness  in  sportive  gallop. 

Soon  did  the  gentle  Nina  reach 
That  Isle  without  a  house  or  haven ; 
Landing,  she  found  not  what  she  sought, 
Nor  saw  of  wreck  or  ruin  aught 
But  a  carved  Lotus  cast  upon  the  beach1 
By  the  fierce  waves,  a  flower  in  marble  graven. 

Sad  relique,  but  how  fair  the  while ! 
For  gently  each  from  each  retreating 
With  backward  curve,  the  leaves  revealed 
The  bosom  half,  and  half  concealed, 
Of  a  Divinity,  that  seemed  to  smile 
On  Nina,  as  she  passed,  with  hopeful  greeting. 

1  1837. 

shore.  1835 


THE  EGYPTIAN   MAI  I'. 

No  quest  was  hers  of  \;i;_inc,  desire, 
Of  tortured  hope  and   purpose  shaken 
Following  the  margin  of  a   bay, 
She  spied  the  lonely  Cast-away, 
I'miian-cd,  unstripped  of  her  attire, 
Hut  with  closed  eyes,  --of  hreath  and  bloom  fors;<kcn. 

Then   Nina,  stooping  down,  embrace  1, 
Wil.li  tenderness  ;ind  mild  emotion, 
The   Damsel,  in  that  trance  cmhound  ; 
And,  while  she.  mixed  her  from  the,  ground, 
And  in  the  pearly  shallop  placed, 
Sleep  fell   upon  tin-  air,  and  s!,illed  tin;  ocean. 

The  turmoil  hushed,  celestial  springs 
Of  music  opened,  and  there,  came  a,  blending 
Of  fragrance,  underived  from  earth, 
\Vi!h  "leams  that  owed  not  to  tin;  sun  their  birth, 
And  that  soft  rustling  of  invisible  win^s 
Which  Angels  make,  on  works  of  love  descending. 

And  Nina  heard  a  sweeter  voice  » 

Than  if  the  (}oddess  of  the  flower  had  spoken  : 
"Thou  hast  achieved,  fair  Dame  !    what  none 
Less  pure,  in  spirit  could  have  done; 
Go,  in  thy  enterprise  rejoice ! 
Air,  earth,  sea,  sky,  and  heaven,  success  betoken." 

So  cheered,  she  left  that  Island  bleak, 
A  bare  rock  of  the  Scilly  cluster ; 
And,  as  they  traversed  the  smooth  brine, 
The  self-illumined  Kri^aiitine 
Shed,  on  the  Slumberer's  cold  wan  cheek 
And  pallid  brow,  a  melancholy  lustre. 


THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID.  249 

Fleet  was  their  course,  and  when  they  came 
To  the  dim  cavern,  whence  the  river 
Issued  into  the  salt-sea  flood, 
Merlin,  as  fixed  in  thought  he  stood, 
Was  thus  accosted  by  the  Dame ; 
"  Behold  to  thee  my  Charge  I  now  deliver ! 

But  where  attends  thy  chariot — where  ?  " — 
Quoth  Merlin,  "  Even  as  I  was  bidden, 
So  have  I  done ;  as  trusty  as  thy  barge 
My  vehicle  shall  prove — 0  precious  Charge ! 
If  this  be  sleep,  how  soft !  if  death,  how  fair ! 
Much  have  my  books  disclosed,  but  the  end  is  hidden." 

He  spake ;  and  gliding  into  view 
Forth  from  the  grotto's  dimmest  chamber 
Came  two  mute  Swans,  whose  plumes  of  dusky  white 
Changed  as  the  pair  approached  the  light, 
Drawing  an  ebon  car,  their  hue 
(Like  clouds  of  sunset)  into  lucid  amber. 

Once  more  did  gentle  Mna  lift 
The  Princess,  passive  to  all  changes : 
The  car  received  her : — then  up-went 
Into  the  ethereal  element 
The  Birds  with  progress  smooth  and  swift 
As  thought,  when  through  bright  regions  memory  ranges. 

Sage  Merlin,  at  the  Slumberer's  side, 
Instructs  the  Swans  their  way  to  measure ; 
And  soon  Caerleon's  towers  appeared, 
And  notes  of  minstrelsy  were  heard 
From  rich  pavilions  spreading  wide, 
For  some  high  day  of  long-expected  pleasure. 


250  THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID. 

Awe-stricken  stood  both  Knights  and  Dames 
Ere  on  firm  ground  the  car  alighted ; 
Eftsoons  astonishment  was  past, 
Por  in  that  face  they  saw  the  last, 
Last  lingering  look  of  clay,  that  tames 
All  pride ;  by  which  all  happiness  is  blighted. 

Said  Merlin,  "  Mighty  King,  fair  Lords, 
Away  with  feast  and  tilt  and  tourney ! 
Ye  saw,  throughout  this  royal  House, 
Ye  heard,  a  rocking  marvellous 
Of  turrets,  and  a  clash  of  swords 
Self -shaken,  as  I  closed  my  airy  journey. 

Lo  !  by  a  destiny  well  known 
To  mortals,  joy  is  turned  to  sorrow ; 
This  is  the  wished-for  Bride,  the  Maid 
Of  Egypt,  from  a  rock  conveyed 
Where  she  by  shipwreck  had  been  thrown  ; 
111  sight !  but  grief  may  vanish  ere  the  morrow." 

"  Though  vast  thy  power,  thy  words  are  weak," 
Exclaimed  the  King,  "  a  mockery  hateful ; 
Dutiful  Child,  her  lot  how  hard  ! 
Is  this  her  piety's  reward  ? 
Those  watery  locks,  that  bloodless  cheek  ! 
0  winds  without  remorse  !     0  shore  ungrateful ! 

Eich  robes  are  fretted  by  the  moth ; 
Towers,  temples,  fall  by  stroke  of  thunder ; 
Will  that,  or  deeper  thoughts,  abate 
A  Father's  sorrow  for  her  fate  ? 
He  will  repent  him  of  his  troth ; 
His  brain  will  burn,  his  stout  heart  split  asunder. 


THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID.  251 

Alas  !  and  I  have  caused  this  woe  ; 
For,  when  my  prowess  from  invading  Neighbours 
Had  freed  his  Realm,  he  plighted  word 
That  he  would  turn  to  Christ  our  Lord, 
And  his  dear  Daughter  on  a  Knight  bestow 
"Whom  I  should  choose  for  love  and  matchless  labours. 

Her  birth  was  heathen ;  but  a  fence 
Of  holy  Angels  round  her  hovered : 
A  Lady  added  to  my  court 
So  fair,  of  such  divine  report 
And  worship,  seemed  a  recompense 
For  fifty  kingdoms  by  my  sword  recovered. 

Ask  not  for  whom,  0  Champions  true ! 
She  was  reserved  by  me  her  life's  betrayer  ; 
She  who  was  meant  to  be  a  bride 
Is  now  a  corse :  then  put  aside 
Vain  thoughts,  and  speed  ye,  with  observance  due 
Of  Christian  rites,  in  Christian  ground  to  lay  her." 

"  The  tomb,"  said  Merlin,  "  may  not  close 
Upon  her  yet,  earth  hide  her  beauty ; 
Not  froward  to  thy  sovereign  will 
Esteem  me,  Liege  !  if  I,  whose  skill 
Wafted  her  hither,  interpose 
To  check  this  pious  haste  of  erring  duty. 

My  books  command  me  to  lay  bare 
The  secret  thou  art  bent  on  keeping : 
Here  must  a  high  attest  be  given, 
Wliat  Bridegroom  was  for  her  ordained  by  Heaven : 
And  in  my  glass  significants  there  are 
Of  things  that  may  to  gladness  turn  this  weeping. 


252  THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID. 

For  this,  approaching  One  by  One, 
Thy  Knights  must  touch  the  cold  hand  of  the  Virgin ; 
So,  for  the  favoured  One,  the  Flower  may  bloom 
Once  more :  but,  if  unchangeable  her  doom, 
If  life  departed  be  for  ever  gone, 
Some  blest  assurance,  from  this  cloud  emerging, 

May  teach  him  to  bewail  his  loss ; 
Not  with  a  grief  that,  like  a  vapour,  rises 
And  melts ;  but  grief  devout  that  shall  endure, 
And  a  perpetual  growth  secure 
Of  purposes  which  no  false  thought  shall  cross, 
A  harvest  of  high  hopes  and  noble  enterprises. 

"  So  be  it,"  said  the  King  ; — "  anon, 
Here,  where  the  Princess  lies,  begin  the  trial ; 
Knights,  each  in  order  as  ye  stand 
Step  forth." — To  touch  the  pallid  hand 
Sir  Agravaine  advanced ;  no  sign  he  won 
From  Heaven  or  earth ; — Sir  Kaye  had  like  denial. 

Abashed,  Sir  Dinas  turned  away ; 
Even  for  Sir  Percival  was  no  disclosure ; 
Though  he,  devoutest  of  all  Champions,  ere 
He  reached  that  ebon  car,  the  bier 
Whereon  diffused  like  snow  the  Damsel  lay, 
Full  thrice  had  crossed  himself  in  meek  composure. 

Imagine  (but  ye  Saints  !  who  can  ?) 
How  in  still  air  the  balance  trembled — 
The  wishes,  peradventure  the  despites 
That  overcame  some  not  ungenerous  Knights ; 
And  all  the  thoughts  that  lengthened  out  a  span 
Of  time  to  Lords  and  Ladies  thus  assembled. 


THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID.  253 

What  patient  confidence  was  here  ! 
t     And  there  how  many  bosoms  panted  ! 

While  drawing  toward  the  car  Sir  Gawaine,  mailed 

For  tournament,  his  beaver  vailed, 

And  softly  touched ;  but,  to  his  princely  cheer 
And  high  expectancy,  no  sign  was  granted. 

Next,  disencumbered  of  his  harp, 
Sir  Tristram,  dear  to  thousands  as  a  brother, 
Came  to  the  proof,  nor  grieved  that  there  ensued 
No  change ; — the  fair  Izonda  he  had  wooed 
With  love  too  true,  a  love  with  pangs  too  sharp, 

From  hope  too  distant,  not  to  dread  another. 

•> 

Not  so  Sir  Launcelot ;  from  Heaven's  grace 
A  sign  he  craved,  tired  slave  of  vain  contrition ; 
The  royal  Guinever  looked  passing  glad 
When  his  touch  failed. — Next  came  Sir  Galahad ; 
He  paused,  and  stood  entranced  by  that  still  face 
Whose  features  he  had  seen  in  noontide  vision. 

For  late,  as  near  a  murmuring  stream 
He  rested  'mid  an  arbour  green  and  shady, 
Nina,  the  good  Enchantress,  shed 
A  light  around  his  mossy  bed  ; 
And,  at  her  call,  a  waking  dream 
Prefigured  to  his  sense  the  Egyptian  Lady. 

Now,  while  his  bright-haired  front  he  bowed, 
And  stood,  far-kenned  by  mantle  furred  with  ermine, 
As  o'er  the  insensate  Body  hung 
The  enrapt,  the  beautiful,  the  young, 
Belief  sank  deep  into  the  crowd 
That  he  the  solemn  issue  would  determine. 


254  THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID. 

Nor  deem  it  strange ;  the  Youth  had  worn 
That  very  mantle  on  a  day  of  glory, 
The  day  when  he  achieved  that  matchless  feat, 
The  marvel  of  the  PERILOUS  SEAT, 
Which  whosoe'er  approached  of  strength  was  shorn, 
Though  King  or  Knight  the  most  renowned  in  story. 

He  touched  with  hesitating  hand — 

And    lo !    those     Birds,     far-famed    through     Love's 

dominions, 

The  Swans,  in  triumph  clap  their  wings ; 
And  their  necks  play,  involved  in  rings, 
Like  sinless  snakes  in  Eden's  happy  land ; — 
Mine  is  she,"  cried  the  Knight ; — again  they  clapped 
their  pinions. 

"  Mine  was  she — mine  she  is,  though  dead, 
And  to  her  name  my  soul  shall  cleave  in  sorrow ; " 
Whereat,  a  tender  twilight  streak 
Of  colour  dawned  upon  the  Damsel's  cheek ; 
And  her  lips,  quickening  with  uncertain  red, 
Seemed  from  each  other  a  faint  warmth  to  borrow. 

Deep  was  the  awe,  the  rapture  high, 
Of  love  emboldened,  hope  with  dread  entwining, 
When,  to  the  mouth,  relenting  Death 
Allowed  a  soft  and  flower-like  breath, 
Precursor  to  a  timid  sigh, 
To  lifted  eyelids,  and  a  doubtful  shining. 

In  silence  did  King  Arthur  gaze 
Upon  the  signs  that  pass  away  or  tarry ; 
In  silence  watched  the  gentle  strife 
Of  Nature  leading  back  to  life ; 
Then  eased  his  soul  at  length  by  praise 
Of  God,  and  Heaven's  pure  Queen — the  blissful  Mary. 


THE  EGYPTIAN  MAID.  255 

Then  said  he,  "  Take  her  to  thy  heart, 
Sir  Galahad  !  a  treasure,  that  God  giveth, 
Bound  by  indissoluble  ties  to  thee 
Through  mortal  change  and  immortality ; 
Be  happy  and  unenvied,  thou  who  art 
A  goodly  Knight  that  hath  no  peer  that  liveth ! " 

Not  long  the  Nuptials  were  delayed ; 
And  sage  tradition  still  rehearses 
The  pomp,  the  glory  of  that  hour 
When  toward  the  altar  from  her  bower 
King  Arthur  led  the  Egyptian  Maid, 
And  Angels  carolled  these  far-echoed  verses ; — 

Who  shrinks  not  from  alliance 
Of  evil  with  good  Powers 
To  God  proclaims  defiance, 
And  mocks  whom  he  adores. 

A  Ship  to  Christ  devoted 
From  the  Land  of  Mle  did  go ; 
Alas  !  the  bright  Ship  floated, 
An  Idol  at  her  prow. 

By  magic  domination, 
The  Heaven-permitted  vent 
Of  purblind  mortal  passion, 
Was  wrought  her  punishment. 

The  Flower,  the  Form  within  it, 
What  served  they  in  her  need  ? 
Her  port  she  could  not  win  it, 
Nor  from  mishap  be  freed. 


256    THE  POET  AND  THE  CAGED  TURTLEDOVE. 

The  tempest  overcame  her, 
And  she  was  seen  no  more ; 
But  gently,  gently  blame  her — 
She  cast  a  Pearl  ashore. 

The  Maid  to  Jesu  hearkened, 
And  kept  to  him  her  faith, 
Till  sense  in  death  was  darkened, 
Or  sleep  akin  to  death. 

But  Angels  round  her  pillow 
Kept  watch,  a  viewless  band ; 
And,  billow  favouring  billow, 
She  reached  the  destined  strand. 

Blest  Pair !  whate'er  befal  you, 
Your  faith  in  Him  approve 
Who  from  frail  earth  can  call  you 
To  bowers  of  endless  love ! 


THE  POET  AND  THE  CAGED  TUKTLEDOVE.* 

Comp.  1830.     Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Rydal  Mount.  This  dove  was  one  of  a  pair  that  had 
been  given  to  my  daughter  by  our  excellent  friend,  Miss  Jewsbury,t 
who  went  to  India  with  her  husband,  Mr  Fletcher,  where  she  died  of 
cholera.  The  dove  survived  its  mate  many  years,  and  was  killed,  to 
our  great  sorrow,  by  a  neighbour's  cat  that  got  in  at  the  window  and 
dragged  it  partly  out  of  the  cage.  These  verses  were  composed 
extempore,  to  the  letter,  in  the  Terrace  Summer-house  before  spoken 
of  It  was  the  habit  of  the  bird  to  begin  cooing  and  murmuring  when- 
ever it  heard  me  making  my  verses.] 

*  In  a  MS.  letter  to  iSir  George  Beaumont  I  find  the  poem  entitled 
"  Twenty  minutes  Exercise  on  the  Terrace  last  night,  but  scene  within 
doors." — ED. 

t  Compare  the  Sonnet  beginning  ' '  While  Anna's  peers  and  early  play- 
mates tread,"  p.  163.— ED. 


PEESENTIMENTS.  257 

As  often  as  I  murmur  here 

My  half-formed  melodies, 
Straight  from  her  osier  mansion  near, 

The  Turtledove  replies : 
Though  silent  as  a  leaf  before, 

The  captive  promptly  coos ; 
Is  it  to  teach  her  own  soft  lore, 

Or  second  my  weak  Muse  ? 

I  rather  think,  the  gentle  Dove 

Is  murmuring  a  reproof, 
Displeased  that  I  from  lays  of  love 

Have  dared  to  keep  aloof ; 
That  I,  a  Bard  of  hill  and  dale, 

Have  caroll'd,  fancy  free, 
As  if  nor  dove  nor  nightingale, 

Had  heart  or  voice  for  me. 

If  such  thy  meaning,  0  forbear, 

Sweet  Bird  !  to  do  me  wrong ; 
Love,  blessed  Love,  is  every  where, 

The  spirit  of  my  song : 
'Mid  grove,  and  by  the  calm  fireside, 

Love  animates  my  lyre — 
That  coo  again ! — 'tis  not  to  chide, 

I  feel,  but  to  inspire. 


PEESENTIMENTS. 

Comp.  1830.  Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Eydal  Mount.] 

PRESENTIMENTS  !  they  judge  not  right 
Who  deem  that  ye  from  open  light 

Eetire  in  fear  of  shame ; 
VII.  R 


258  PRESENTIMENTS. 

All  heaven-lorn  Instincts  shun  the  touch 
Of  vulgar  sense, — and,  being  such, 
Such  privilege  ye  claim. 

The  tear  whose  source  I  could  not  guess, 
The  deep  sigh  that  seemed  fatherless, 

"Were  mine  in  early  days  ; 
And  now,  unforced  by  time  to  part 
With  fancy,  I  obey  my  heart, 

And  venture  on  your  praise. 

What  though  some  busy  foes  to  good 
Too  potent  over  nerve  and  blood, 

Lurk  near  you — and  combine 
To  taint  the  health  which  ye  infuse ; 
This  hides  not  from  the  moral  Muse 

Your  origin  divine. 

How  oft  from  you,  derided  Powers  ! 
Comes  Faith  that  in  auspicious  hours 

Builds  castles,  not  of  air : 
Bodings  unsanctioned  by  the  will 
Flow  from  your  visionary  skill, 

And  teach  us  to  beware. 

The  bosom-weight,  your  stubborn  gift, 
That  no  philosophy  can  lift, 

Shall  vanish,  if  ye  please, 
Like  morning  mist :  and,  where  it  lay, 
The  spirits  at  your  bidding  play 

In  gaiety  and  ease. 

Star-guided  contemplations  move 
Through  space,  though  calm,  not  raised  above 
Prognostics  that  ye  rule  ; 


PRESENTIMENTS.  259 

The  naked  Indian  of  the  wild, 
And  haply,  too,  the  cradled  Child, 
Are  pupils  of  your  school. 

But  who  can  fathom  your  intents, 
Number  their  signs  or  instruments  ? 

A  rainbow,  a  sunbeam, 
A  subtle  smell  that  Spring  unbinds, 
Dead  pause  abrupt  of  midnight  winds, 

An  echo,  or  a  dream.* 

The  laughter  of  the  Christmas  hearth 
With  sighs  of  self-exhausted  mirth 

Ye  feelingly  reprove : 
And  daily,  in  the  conscious  breast, 
Your  visitations  are  a  test 

And  exercise  of  love. 

When  some  great  change  gives  boundless  scope 
To  an  exulting  Nation's  hope, 

Oft,  startled  and  made  wise 
By  your  low-breathed  interpretings, 
The  simply-meek  foretaste  the  springs 

Of  bitter  contraries. 

Ye  daunt  the  proud  array  of  war, 
Pervade  the  lonely  ocean  far 

As  sail  hath  been  unfurled ; 
For  dancers  in  the  festive  hall 

Compare  Robert  Browning's  Bishop  Brougham's  Apology — 
"        .         .         .         There's  a  sunset-touch, 
A  fancy  from  a  flower-bell,  some  one's  death, 
A  chorus  ending  from  Euripides, — 
And  that's  enough  for  fifty  hopes  and  fears 
As  old  and  new  at  once  as  Nature's  self, 
To  rap  and  knock  and  enter  in  our  soul, 
Take  hands  and  dance  there,  a  fantastic  ring,"  &c.— ED. 


260  INSCRIPTION. 

What  ghastly  partners  hath  your  call 
Fetched  from  the  shadowy  world  ! 

"Tis  said  that  warnings  ye  dispense, 
Emboldened  by  a  keener  sense ; 

That  men  have  lived  for  whom, 
With  dread  precision,  ye  made  clear 
The  hour  that  in  a  distant  year 

Should  knell  them  to  the  tomb. 

Unwelcome  insight !     Yet  there  are 
Blest  times  when  mystery  is  laid  bare, 

Truth  shows  a  glorious  face, 
While  on  that  isthmus  which  commands 
The  councils  of  both  worlds,  she  stands, 

Sage  Spirits  !  by  your  grace. 

God,  who  instructs  the  brutes  to  scent 
All  changes  of  the  element, 

Whose  wisdom  fixed  the  scale 
Of  natures,  for  our  wants  provides 
By  higher,  sometimes  humbler,  guides, 

When  lights  of  reason  fail. 


INSCRIPTION 

INTENDED  FOR  A  STONE  IN  THE  GROUNDS  OF  RYDAL  MOUNT.      1835. 

Comp.  1830.     Pub.  1835. 

[Engraven,  during  my  absence  in  Italy,  upon  a  brass  plate  inserted 
in  the  Stone.] 

IN  these  fair  vales  hath  many  a  Tree 
At  Wordsworth's  suit  been  spared ; 
And  from  the  builder's  hand  this  Stone, 


ELEGIAC  MUSINGS.  261 

For  some  rude  beauty  of  its  own, 

Was  rescued  by  the  Bard : 
So  let  it  rest ;  and  time  will  come 

When  here  the  tender-hearted 
May  heave  a  gentle  sigh  for  him, 

As  one  of  the  departed. 

This  inscription  is  still  preserved   on  a   brass    plate    in    a  stone, 
within  the  grounds  at  Eydal  Mount.— ED. 


ELEGIAC  MUSINGS. 

IN  THE  GROUNDS  OF  COLEORTON  HALL,  THE  SEAT  OF  THE  LATE4 
SIR  G.  H.  BEAUMONT,  BART. 

Comp.  1830.     Pub.  1835. 

[These  verses  were  in  part  composed  on  horseback  during  a  storm, 
while  I  was  on  my  way  from  Coleorton  to  Cambridge  :  they  are 
alluded  to  elsewhere.  ]t 

In  these  grounds  stands  the  Parish  Church,  wherein  is  a  mural 
monument  bearing  an  Inscription  which,  in  deference  to  the  earnest 
request  of  the  deceased,  is  confined  to  name,  dates,  and  these  words  : — 
"Enter  not  into  judgment  with  thy  servant,  0  Lord  !" 

WITH  copious  eulogy  in  prose  or  rhyme1 
Graven  on  the  tomb  we  struggle  against  Time, 
Alas,  how  feebly  !  but  our  feelings  rise 
And  still  we  struggle  when  a  good  man  dies ; 
Such  offering  BEAUMONT  dreaded  and  forbade, 
A  spirit  meek  in  self-abasement  clad. 
Yet  here  at  least,  though  few  have  numbered  days 
That  shunned  so  modestly  the  light  of  praise — 
His  graceful  manners,  and  the  temperate  ray 
Of  that  arch  fancy  which  would  round  him  play, 
Brightening  a  converse  never  known  to  swerve, 

1  1837. 

and  rhyme  1835. 

*  Sir  George  Beaumont  died  on  Feb.  7,  1827.— Eu. 
t  See  the  Fen  wick  note  to  the  next  poem. — ED. 


262  ELEGIAC  MUSINGS. 

From  courtesy  and  delicate  reserve ; 

That  sense,  the  bland  philosophy  of  life, 

AVldch  checked  discussion  ere  it  warmed  to  strife — 

Those  rare  accomplishments,1  and  varied  powers, 

Might  have  their  record  among  sylvan  bowers. 

Oh,  fled  for  ever  !  vanished  like  a  blast 

That  shook  the  leaves  in  myriads  as  it  passed; — 

Gone  from  this  world  of  earth,  air,  sea,  and  sky, 

From  all  its  spirit-moving  imagery, 

Intensely  studied  with  a  painter's  eye, 

A  poet's  heart ;  and,  for  congenial  view, 

Portrayed  with  happiest  pencil,  not  untrue 

To  common  recognitions  while  the  line 

Flowed  in  a  course  of  sympathy  divine ; — 

Oh  !  severed,  too  abruptly,  from  delights 

That  all  the  seasons  shared  with  equal  rights ; — 

Rapt  in  the  grace  of  undismantled  age, 

From  soul-felt  music,  and  the  treasured  page 

Lit  by  that  evening  lamp  which  loved  to  shed 

Its  mellow  lustre  round  thy  honoured  head ; 

While  Friends  beheld  thee  give  with  eye,  voice,  mien, 

More  than  theatric  force  to  Shakspeare's  scene ; — * 

If  thou  hast  heard  me — if  thy  Spirit  know 

Aught  of  these  bowers  and  whence  their  pleasures  How ; 

If  things  in  our  remembrance  held  so  dear, 

And  thoughts  and  projects  fondly  cherished  here, 

To  thy  exalted  nature  only  seem 

Time's  vanities,  light  fragments  of  earth's  dream — 

1  1837. 

Those  fine  accomplishments        .        .        .  1835. 


*  Sir  George  Beaumont  used  frequently  to  read  Shakspeare  aloud  to  his 
household  and  friends  at  Coleorton. — ED. 


ELEGIAC  MUSINGS.  263 

Rebuke1  us  not! — The  mandate  is  obeyed 
That  said,  "  Let  praise  be  mute  where  I  am  laid  ;" 
The  holier  deprecation,  given  in  trust 
To  the  cold  marble,  waits  upon  thy  dust ; 
Yet  have  we  found  how  slowly  genuine  grief 
From  silent  admiration  wins  relief. 
Too  long  abashed  thy  Name  is  like  a  rose 
That  doth  "  within  itself  its  sweetness  close ;" 
A  drooping  daisy  changed  into  a  cup 
In  which  her  bright-eyed  beauty  is  shut  up. 
Within  these  groves,  where  still  are  flitting  by 
Shades  of  the  Past,  oft  noticed  with  a  sigh, 
Shall  stand  a  votive  Tablet,*  haply  free, 
When  towers  and  temples  fall,  to  speak  of  Thee  ! 
If  sculptured  emblems  of  our  mortal  doom 
Recal  not  there  the  wisdom  of  the  Tomb, 
Green  ivy  risen  from  out  the  cheerful  earth 
Will  fringe2  the  lettered  stone ;  and  herbs  spring  forth. 
Whose  fragrance,  by  soft  dews  and  rain  unbound, 
Shall  penetrate  the  heart  without  a  wound ; 
While  truth  and  love  their  purposes  fulfil, 
Commemorating  genius,  talent,  skill, 
That  could  not  lie  concealed  where  Thou  wert  known ; 
Thy  virtues  He  must  judge,  and  He  alone, 
.     The  God  upon  whose  mercy  they  are  thrown. 

1  1837. 

Shakespeare's  scene- 
Rebuke     1835. 

2  1837. 

Shall  fringe 1886. 

*  This  votive  Tablet  may  still  be  seen,  with  its  "green  ivy,"  "fringing 
the  lettered  stone."  Compare  the  Sonnet  To  the  Author'*  Portrait,  p. 
265. -ED. 


264  TO  THE  AUTHOR'S  PORTRAIT. 


Comp.  1830.     Pub.  1835. 

[I  have  reason  to  remember  the  day  that  gave  rise  to  this  Sonnet, 
the  6th  of  November,  1830.  Having  undertaken,  a  great  feat  for  me, 
to  ride  my  daughter's  pony  from  Westmoreland  to  Cambridge,  that 
she  might  have  the  use  of  it  while  on  a  visit  to  her  uncle  at  Trinity 
Lodge,  on  my  way  from  Batewell  to  Matlock  I  turned  aside  to 
Chatsworth,  and  had  scarcely  gratified  my  curiosity  by  the  sight  of 
that  celebrated  place  before  there  came  on  a  severe  storm  of  wind  and 
rain  which  continued  till  I  reached  Derby,  both  man  and  pony  in  a 
pitiable  plight.  For  myself,  I  went  to  bed  at  noon-day.  In  the  course 
of  that  journey  I  had  to  encounter  a  storm  worse  if  possible,  in  which 
the  pony  could  (or  would)  only  make  his  way  slantwise.  I  mention 
this  merely  to  add  that  notwithstanding  this  battering  I  composed,  on 
horseback,  the  lines  to  the  memory  of  Sir  George  Beaumont,  suggested 
during  my  recent  visit  to  Coleorton.] 

CHATSWOKTH  !  thy  stately  mansion,  and  the  pride 

Of  thy  domain,  strange  contrast  do  present 

To  house  and  home  in  many  a  craggy  rent 

Of  the  wild  Peak ;  where  new-born  waters  glide 

Through  fields  whose  thrifty  occupants  abide 

As  in  a  dear  and  chosen  banishment, 

With  every  semblance  of  entire  content ; 

So  kind  is  simple  Nature,  fairly  tried ! 

Yet  He  whose  heart  in  childhood  gave  her  troth 

To  pastoral  dales,  thin-set  with  modest  farms, 

May  learn,  if  judgment  strengthen  with  his  growth, 

That,  not  for  Fancy  only,  pomp  hath  charms ; 

And,  strenuous  to  protect  from  lawless  harms 

The  extremes  of  favoured  life,  may  honour  both. 


TO  THE  A   THOK'S  POETEAIT. 

[Painted  at  Eydal  Mount,  by  "W.  Pickersgill,  Esq.,  for  St  John's 
College,  Cambridge.] 

Comp.  1830.     Pub.  1835. 

fThe  last  six  lines  of  this  Sonnet  are  not  written  for  poetical  effect, 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact,  which,  in  more  than  one  instance,  could  not 
escape  my  notice  in  the  servants  of  the  house.] 


TO  THE  AUTHOR'S  PORTRAIT.  265 

Go,  faithful  Portrait !  and  where  long  hath  knelt 
Margaret,  the  saintly  Foundress,  take  thy  place ; 
And,  if  Time  spare  the  colours  *  for  the  grace 
Which  to  the  work  surpassing  skill  hath  dealt, 
Thou,  on  thy  rock  reclined,  though  kingdoms  melt 
And  states  be  torn  up  by  the  roots,!  wilt  seem 
To  breathe  in  rural  peace,  to  hear  the  stream, 
And1  think  and  feel  as  once  the  Poet  felt. 
Whate'er  thy  fate,  those  features  have  not  grown 
Unrecognised  through  many  a  household  tear 
More  prompt,  more  glad,  to  fall  than  drops  of  dew 
By  morning  shed  around  a  flower  half -blown ; 
Tears  of  delight,  that  testified  how  true 
To  life  thou  art,  and,  in  thy  truth,  how  dear ! 

1 1837. 

To 1835. 

*  The  colour  has  already  faded  somewhat,-— ED. 
t  Compare  Elegiac  Musings,  p,  263, — ED, 


266  THE  PRIMROSE  OF  THE  ROCK. 


1831. 

The  Poems  of  1S31  were  Baited  to  Tfc  Pnmromof  fa  ifex*,and 
rtferT*^ 


THE  PRIMROSE  OF  THE  ROCK, 

—  pah,  ittft. 


[Written  at  Rydal  Mount.  71»e  1^  stands  on  the  right  band  ft 
tittle  way  leadiB*»?tlwsuddkrad  6m  Rydal  toCtaMuem  We 
bare  been  in  the  hato  of  calling  it  the  gkm-wom  rock  from  the 
mnnbw  of  glow-wontti  we  nare  often  seen  '•flaaya>y  on  lit  as  described. 
The  tuft  of  primme  has,  I  fear,  been  wa«ned  *w*y  by  the  heavy 

A  Bocx  there  is  wbose  bomety  front 

The  passing  traveller  slight*; 
Yet  th ere  the  glow-worms  hang  their  lamps, 

like  stars,  at  various  heights: 
And  one  coy  Primrose  to  that  Rock 

The  vernal  breeze  invites. 

What  hideous  warfare  hath  been  waged, 

What  kingdoms  overthrown, 
Since  tint  I  spied  that  Primrose-toft 

And  marked  it  for  my  own ;  * 
A  lasting  link  in  Xatnre's  chain 

From  rn^iest  heaven  let  down! 


THE  PRIMROSE  OF  THE  ROCK.         267 

The  flowers,  still  faithful  to  the  steins, 

Their  fellowship  renew: 
The  stems  are  faithful  to  the  root, 

That  worketh  out  of  view  ; 
And  to  the  rock  the  root  adheres 

In  every  fibre  true. 

Close  clings  to  earth  the  living  rock, 

Though  threatening  still  to  fall  ; 
The  earth  is  constant  to  her  sphere ; 

And  God  upholds  them  all: 
So  blooms  this  lonely  Plant,  nor  dreads 

Her  annual  funeral. 

Here  closed  the  meditative  strain  ; 

But  air  breathed  soft  that  day, 
The  hoary  mountain-heights  were  cheer*  il, 

The  sunny  vale  looked  guy, 
And  to  the  Primrose  of  the  Rock 

I  give  this  after-lay. 

I  sang — Let  myriads  of  bright  flowers, 

Like  Thee,  in  field  and  grove 
Revive  unenvied  ; — mightier  far, 

Than  tremblings  that  reprove 
Our  vernal  tendencies  to  hope, 

Is  God's  redeeming  love; 

That  love  which  changed — for  wan  disease, 

For  sorrow  that  had  bent 
O'er  hopeless  dust,  for  withered  ag( 

Their  moral  element, 
And  turned  the  thistles  of  a  curse 

To  types  beneficent. 


268  YARROW  REVISITED. 

Sin-blighted  though  we  are,  we  too, 
The  reasoning  Sons  of  Men, 

From  one  oblivious  winter  called 
Shall  rise,  and  breathe  again ; 

And  in  eternal  summer  lose 
Our  threescore  years  and  ten. 

To  humbleness  of  heart  descends 
This  prescience  from  on  high, 

The  faith  that  elevates  the  just, 
Before  and  when  they  die ; 

And  makes  each  soul  a  separate  heaven, 
A  court  for  Deity. 


YARROW  REVISITED,  AND  OTHER  POEMS, 

COMPOSED  (TWO  EXCEPTED)  DUKING  A  TOUR  IN   SCOTLAND, 
AND  ON  THE  ENGLISH  BORDER,  IN  THE  AUTUMN  OF  1831. 

Comp.  1831.     Pub.  1835. 

[In  the  autumn  of  1831,  my  daughter  and  I  set  off  from  Kydal  to 
visit  Sir  Walter  Scott  before  his  departure  for  Italy.  This  journey 
had  been  delayed  by  an  inflammation  in  my  eyes  till  we  found  that  the 
time  appointed  for  his  leaving  home  would  be  too  near  for  him  to 
receive  us  without  considerable  inconvenience.  Nevertheless  we  pro- 
ceeded and  reached  Abbotsford  on  Monday.  I  was  then  scarcely  able 
to  lift  up  my  eyes  to  the  light.  How  sadly  changed  did  I  find  him 
from  the  man  I  had  seen  so  healthy,  gay,  and  hopeful,  a  few  years 
before,  when  he  said  at  the  inn  at  Paterdale,  in  my  presence,  his 
daughter  Anne  also  being  there,  with  Mr  Lockhart,  my  own  wife  and 
daughter,  and  Mr  Quillinan, — "I  mean  to  live  till  I  am  eighty,  and 
shall  write  as  long  as  I  live."  But  to  return  to  Abbotsford  :  the 
inmates  and  guests  we  found  there  were  Sir  Walter,  Major  Scott, 
Anne  Scott,  and  Mr  and  Mrs  Lockhart,  Mr  Liddell,  his  Lady  and 
Brother,  and  Mr  Allan  the  painter,  and  Mr  Laidlow,  a  very  old  friend 
of  Sir  Walter's.  One  of  Burns's  sons,  an  officer  in  the  Indian  service, 


YARROW  REVISITED.  269 

had  left  the  house  a  day  or  two  before,  and  had  kindly  expressed  his 
regret  that  he  could  not  wait  my  arrival,  a  regret  that  I  may  truly  say 
was  mutual.  In  the  evening,  Mr  and  Mrs  Liddell  sang,  and  Mrs 
Lockhart  chanted  old  ballads  to  her  harp ;  and  Mr  Allan,  hanging 
over  the  back  of  a  chair,  told  and  acted  odd  stories  in  a  humorous  way. 
With  this  exhibition  and  his  daughter's  singing,  Sir  Walter  was  much 
amused,  as  indeed  were  we  all  as  far  as  circumstances  would  allow.  But 
what  is  most  worthy  of  mention  is  the  admirable  demeanour  of  Major 
Scott  during  the  following  evening  when  the  Liddells  were  gone  and 
only  ourselves  and  Mr  Allan  were  present.  He  had  much  to  suffer 
from  the  sight  of  his  father's  infirmities  and  from  the  great  change 
that  was  about  to  take  place  at  the  residence  he  had  built,  and  where 
he  had  long  lived  in  so  much  prosperity  and  happiness.  But  what 
struck  me  most  was  the  patient  kindness  with  which  he  supported 
himself  under  the  many  fretful  expressions  that  his  sister  Anne 
addressed  to  him  or  uttered  in  his  hearing.  She,  poor  thing,  as 
mistress  of  that  house,  had  been  subject,  after  her  mother's  death,  to  a 
heavier  load  of  care  and  responsibility  and  greater  sacrifices  of  time 
than  one  of  such  a  constitution  of  body  and  mind  was  able  to  bear. 
Of  this,  Dora  and  I  were  made  so  sensible,  that,  as  soon  as  we  had 
crossed  the  Tweed  on  our  departure,  we  gave  vent  at  the  same  moment 
to  our  apprehensions  that  her  brain  would  fail  and  she  would  go  out 
of  her  mind,  or  that  she  would  sink  under  the  trials  she  had  passed 
and  those  which  awaited  her.  On  Tuesday  morning  Sir  Walter  Scott 
accompanied  us  and  most  of  the  party  to  Newark  Castle  on  the  Yarrow. 
When  we  alighted  from  the  carriages  he  walked  pretty  stoutly,  and 
had  great  pleasure  in  revisiting  those  his  favourite  haunts.  Of  that 
excursion  the  verses  "  Yarrow  Revisited  "  are  a  memorial.  Notwith- 
standing the  romance  that  pervades  Sir  Walter's  works  and  attaches 
to  many  of  his  habits,  there  is  too  much  pressure  of  fact  for  these 
verses  to  harmonise  as  much  as  I  could  wish  with  other  poems.  On 
our  return  in  the  afternoon  we  had  to  cross  the  Tweed  directly  opposite 
Abbotsford.  The  wheels  of  our  carriage  grated  upon  the  pebbles  in 
the  bed  of  the  stream  that  there  flows  somewhat  rapidly ;  a  rich  but 
sad  light  of  rather  a  purple  than  a  golden  hue  was  spread  over  the 
Eildon  Hills  at  that  moment ;  and,  thinking  it  probable  that  it  might 
be  the  last  time  Sir  Walter  would  cross  the  stream,  I  was  not  a  little 
moved,  and  expressed  some  of  my  feelings  in  the  Sonnet  beginning — 
"A  trouble,  not  of  clouds,  or  weeping  rain."  At  noon  on  Thursday 
we  left  Abbotsford,  and  in  the  morning  of  that  day  Sir  Walter  and  I 
had  a  serious  conversation  t§te-a-t£te,  when  he  spoke  with  gratitude 
of  the  happy  life  which  upon  the  whole  he  had  led.  He  had  written 
in  my  daughter's  Album,  before  he  came  into  the  breakfast-room  that 
morning,  a  few  stanzas  addressed  to  her,  and,  while  putting  the 
book  into  her  hand,  in  his  own  study,  standing  by  his  desk,  he  said 
to  her  in  my  presence— "I  should  not  have  done  anything  of  this 


270      THE  GALLANT  YOUTH  WHO  MAY  HAVE  GAINED. 

kind  but  for  your  father's  sake  :  they  are  probably  the  last  verses 
I  shall  ever  write."  They  show  how  much  his  mind  was  impaired, 
not  by  the  strain  of  thought  but  by  the  execution,  some  of  the  lines 
being  imperfect,  and  one  stanza  wanting  corresponding  rhymes  :  one 
letter,  the  initial  S,  had  been  omitted  in  the  spelling  of  his  own  name. 
In  this  interview  also  it  was  that,  upon  my  expressing  a  hope  of  his 
health  being  benefited  by  the  climate  of  the  country  to  which  he  was 
going,  and  by  the  interest  he  would  take  in  the  classic  remembrances 
of  Italy,  he  made  use  of  the  quotation  from  "  Yarrow  un visited  "  as 
recorded  by  me  in  the  "  Musings  of  Aquapendente "  six  years  after- 
wards. Mr  Lockhart  has  mentioned  in  his  life  of  him  what  I  heard 
from  several  quarters  while  abroad,  both  at  Eome  and  elsewhere,  that 
little  seemed  to  interest  him  but  what  he  could  collect  or  hear  of  the 
fugitive  Stuarts  and  their  adherents  who  had  followed  them  into  exile. 
Both  the  "  Yarrow  revisited  "  and  the  "  Sonnet "  were  sent  him  before 
his  departure  from  England.  Some  further  particulars  of  the  con- 
versations which  occurred  during  this  visit  I  should  have  set  down 
had  they  not  been  already  accurately  recorded  by  Mr  Lockhart.  I 
first  became  acquainted  with  this  great  and  amiable  man — Sir  Walter 
Scott — in  the  year  1803,  when  my  sister  and  I,  making  a  tour  in 
Scotland,  were  hospitably  received  by  him  in  Lasswade  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Esk,  where  he  was  then  living.  We  saw  a  good  deal  of  him  in 
the  course  of  the  following  week ;  the  particulars  are  given  in  my 
sister's  Journal  of  that  tour.] 

TO 
SAMUEL  EOGEES,  ESQ. 

AS   A    TESTIMONY   OF   FRIENDSHIP,   AND   ACKNOWLEDGMENT    OF 

INTELLECTUAL   OBLIGATIONS,   THESE   MEMORIALS 

ARE   AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBED. 

EYDAL  MOUNT,  Dec.  11,  1834. 


[The  following  Stanzas  are  a  memorial  of  a  day  passed  with  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  and  other  Friends  visiting  the  Banks  of  the  Yarrow 
under  his  guidance,  immediately  before  his  departure  from  Abbotsford, 
for  Naples. 

The  title  Yarrow  Revisited  will  stand  in  no  need  of  explanation,  for 
Readers  acquainted  with  the  Author's  previous  poems  suggested  by 
that  celebrated  Stream.] 

THE  gallant  Youth,  who  may  have  gained, 

Or  seeks,  a  "  winsome  Marrow," 
Was  but  an  Infant  in  the  lap 

When  first  I  looked  on  Yarrow ; 


THE  GALLANT  YOUTH  WHO  MAY  HAVE  GAINED.      271 

Once  more,  by  Newark's  Castle-gate 

Long  left  without  a  warder, 
I  stood,  looked,  listened,  and  with  Thee, 

Great  Minstrel  of  the  Border  !* 

Grave  thoughts  ruled  wide  on  that  sweet  day, 

Their  dignity  installing 
In  gentle  bosoms,  while  sere  leaves 

Were  on  the  bough,  or  falling ; 
But  breezes  played,  and  sunshine  gleamed — 

The  forest  to  embolden ; 
Eeddened  the  fiery  hues,  and  shot 

Transparence  through  the  golden. 

For  busy  thoughts  the  Stream  flowed  on 

In  foamy  agitation ; 
And  slept  in  many  a  crystal  pool 

For  quiet  contemplation  :  t 
No  public  and  no  private  care 

The  free-born  mind  enthralling, 
We  made  a  day  of  happy  hours, 

Our  happy  days  recalling. 

Brisk  Youth  appeared,  the  Morn  of  youth, 

With  freaks  of  graceful  folly, — 
Life's  temperate  Noon,  her  sober  Eve, 

Her  Night  not  melancholy ; 

*  Wordsworth  arrived  at  Abbotsford  with  his  daughter  to  say  farewell 
to  Scott  on  the  21st  September  1831.  "  On  the  22nd,"  says  Mr  Lockhart, 
' '  these  two  great  poets,  who  had  through  life  loved  each  other  well,  and  in 
spite  of  very  different  theories  as  to  art,  appreciated  each  other's  genius 
more  justly  than  infirm  spirits  ever  did  either  of  them,  spent  the  morning 
together  in  a  visit  to  Newark.  Hence  the  last  of  the  three  poems  by  which 
Wordsworth  has  connected  his  name  to  all  time  with  the  most  romantic  of 
Scottish  streams."— Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Vol.  X.,  ch.  80, 
p.  104. 

Compare  the  note  to  Musings  near  Aquapendente,  in  the  Poems  of  the 
Italian  Tour  of  1837.— ED. 

t  Compare  Tennyson's  Brook. — ED. 


272      THE  GALLANT  YOUTH  WHO  MAY  HAVE  GAINED. 

Past,  present,  future,  all  appeared 

In  harmony  united, 
Like  guests  that  meet,  and  some  from  far, 

By  cordial  love  invited. 

And  if,  as  Yarrow,  through  the  woods 

And  down  the  meadow  ranging, 
Did  meet  us  with  unaltered  face, 

Though  we  were  changed  and  changing ; 
If,  then,  some  natural  shadows  spread 

Our  inward  prospect  over, 
The  soul's  deep  valley  was  not  slow 

Its  brightness  to  recover. 

Eternal  blessings  on  the  Muse, 

And  her  divine  employment ! 
The  blameless  Muse,  who  trains  her  Sons 

For  hope  and  calm  enjoyment ; 
Albeit  sickness,  lingering  yet, 

Has  o'er  their  pillow  brooded ; 
And  Care  waylays 1  their  steps — a  Sprite 

Not  easily  eluded, 

For  thee,  0  SCOTT  !  compelled  to  change 

Green  Eildon-hill  and  Cheviot 
For  warm  Vesuvio's  vine-clad  slopes ; 

And  leave  thy  Tweed  and  Tiviot 
For  mild  Sorrento's  breezy  waves ; 

May  classic  Fancy,  linking 
With  native  Fancy  her  fresh  aid, 

Preserve  thy  heart  from  sinking ! 

1  1837. 

waylay        ....          1835. 


THE  GALLANT  YOUTH  WHO  MAY  HAVE  GAINED.       273 

0  !  while  they  minister  to  thee, 

Each  vying  with  the  other, 
May  Health  return  to  mellow  Age 

With  Strength,  her  venturous  brother  ; 
And  Tiber,  and  each  brook  and  rill 

Eenowned  in  song  and  story, 
With  unimagined  beauty  shine, 

Nor  lose  one  ray  of  glory ! 

For  Thou,  upon  a  hundred  streams, 

By  tales  of  love  and  sorrow, 
Of  faithful  love,  undaunted  truth, 

Hast  shed  the  power  of  Yarrow ; 
And  streams  unknown,  hills  yet  unseen, 

Wherever  they1  invite  Thee, 
At  parent  Nature's  grateful  call, 

With  gladness  must  requite  Thee. 

A  gracious  welcome  shall  be  thine, 

Such  looks  of  love  and  honour 
As  thy  own  Yarrow  gave  to  me 

When  first  I  gazed  upon  her ; 
Beheld  what  I  had  feared  to  see, 

Unwilling  to  surrender 
Dreams  treasured  up  from  early  days, 

The  holy  and  the  tender. 

And  what,  for  this  frail  world,  were  all 

That  mortals  do  or  suffer, 
Did  no  responsive  harp,  no  pen, 

Memorial  tribute  offer  ? 

1  1837. 

Where'er  thy  path 1835. 

VII.  S 


274       THE  GALLANT  YOUTH  WHO  MAY  HAVE  GAINED. 

Yea,  what  were  mighty  Nature's  self  ? 

Her  features,  could  they  win  us, 
Unhelped  by  the  poetic  voice 

That  hourly  speaks  within  us  ? 

Nor  deem  that  localised  Eomance 

Plays  false  with  our  affections  ; 
Unsanctifies  our  tears — made  sport 

For  fanciful  dejections : 
Ah,  no !  the  visions  of  the  past 

Sustain  the  heart  in  feeling 
Life  as  she  is — our  changeful  Life, 

With  friends  and  kindred  dealing. 

Bear  witness,  Ye,  whose  thoughts  that  day 

In  Yarrow's  groves  were  centered ; 
Who  through  the  silent  portal  arch 

Of  mouldering  Newark  enter'd  ; 
And  clomb  the  winding  stair  that  once 

Too  timidly  was  mounted 
By  the  "  last  Minstrel,"  (not  the  last !) 

Ere  he  his  Tale  recounted. 

Flow  on  for  ever,  Yarrow  Stream ! 

Fulfil  thy  pensive  duty, 
Well  pleased  that  future  Bards  should  chant 

For  simple  hearts  thy  beauty ; 
To  dream-light  dear  while  yet  unseen, 

Dear  to  the  common  sunshine, 
And  dearer  still,  as  now  I  feel, 

To  memory's  shadowy  moonshine  ! 


A  PLACE  OF  BURIAL  IN  THE  SOUTH  OF  SCOTLAND.     275 


II. 

ON  THE  DEPARTURE  OF  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT 
FROM  ABBOTSFORD,  FOR  NAPLES  * 

A  TROUBLE,  not  of  clouds,  or  weeping  rain, 

Nor  of  the  setting  sun's  pathetic  light 

Engendered,  hangs  o'er  Eildon's  triple  height : 

Spirits  of  Power,  assembled  there,  complain 

For  kindred  Power  departing  from  their  sight ; 

While  Tweed,  best  pleased  in  chanting  a  blithe  strain, 

Saddens  his  voice  again,  and  yet  again. 

Lift  up  your  hearts,  ye  Mourners  !  for  the  might 

Of  the  whole  world's  good  wishes  with  him  goes ; 

Blessings  and  prayers,  in  nobler  retinue 

Than  sceptred  king  or  laurelled  conqueror  knows, 

Follows  this  wondrous  Potentate.      Be  true, 

Ye  winds  of  ocean,  and  the  midland  sea, 

Wafting  your  Charge  to  soft  Parthenope ! 

With  the  closing  lines  of  this  sonnet  addressed  to  the  "  winds  of 
ocean,"  and  Sir  Walter's  departure  for  Naples,  compare  Horace's  Ode 
to  the  ship  carrying  Virgil  to  Athens,  (Ode  I.  3). — ED. 


III. 

A  PLACE  OF  BURIAL  IN  THE  SOUTH  OF 
SCOTLAND. 

[Similar  places  for  burial  are  not  unfrequent  in  Scotland.  The  one 
that  suggested  this  Sonnet  lies  on  the  banks  of  a  small  stream  called 
the  Wauchope  that  flows  into  the  Esk  near  Langholme.  Mickle,  who, 
as  it  appears  from  his  poem  on  Sir  Martin,  was  not  without  genuine 

*  This  sonnet  was  sent  to  Alaric  Watts  for  his  Souvenir  in  1832. 
Wordsworth  wrote,  "  I  enclose  a  sonnet  for  your  next  volume  if  you  choose 
to  insert  it.  It  would  have  appeared  with  more  advantage  in  this  year's, 
but  was  not  written  in  time.  It  is  proper  that  I  should  mention  it  has  been 
sent  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  one  or  two  of  my  other  friends. " — (See  Alaric 
Watts,  a  Narrative  of  his  Life,  Vol.  II.  p.  190.)— ED. 


276  A  MANSE  IN  THE  SOUTH  OF  SCOTLAND. 

poetic  feelings,  was  born  and  passed  his  boyhood,  in  this  neighbour- 
hood, under  his  father  who  was  a  minister  of  the  Scotch  Kirk.  The 
Esk,  both  above  and  below  Langholme,  flows  through  a  beautiful 
country,  and  the  two  streams  of  the  Wauchope  and  the  Ewes,  which 
join  it  near  that  place,  are  such  as  a  pastoral  poet  would  delight  in.] 

PAET  fenced  by  man,  part  by  a  rugged  steep 
That  curbs  a  foaming  brook,  a  Grave-yard  lies ; 
The  hare's  best  couching-place  for  fearless  sleep ; 
"Which  moonlit  elves,  far  seen  by  credulous  eyes, 
Enter  in  dance.      Of  church,  or  sabbath  ties, 
No  vestige  now  remains ;  yet  thither  creep 
Bereft  Ones,  and  in  lowly  anguish  weep 
Their  prayers  out  to  the  wind  and  naked  skies. 
Proud  tomb  is  none  ;  but  rudely-sculptured  knights, 
By  humble  choice  of  plain  old  times,  are  seen 
Level  with  earth,  among  the  hillocks  green : 
Union  not  sad,  when  sunny  daybreak  smites 
The  spangled  turf,  and  neighbouring  thickets  ring 
With  jubilate  from  the  choirs  of  spring ! 


IV. 

ON  THE  SIGHT  OF  A  MANSE  IN  THE  SOUTH 
OF  SCOTLAND. 

[The  Manses  in  Scotland  and  the  gardens  and  grounds  about  them 
have  seldom  that  attractive  appearance  which  is  common  about  our 
English  parsonages,  even  when  the  clergyman's  income  falls  below  the 
average  of  the  Scotch  minister's.  This  is  not  merely  owing  to  the  one 
country  being  poor  in  comparison  with  the  other,  but  arises  rather  out 
of  the  equality  of  their  benefices,  so  that  no  one  has  enough  to  spare  for 
decorations  that  might  serve  as  an  example  for  others  ;  whereas,  with 
us,  the  taste  of  the  richer  incumbent  extends  its  influence  more  or  less 
to  the  poorest.  After  all,  in  these  observations  the  surface  only  of  the 
matter  is  touched.  I  once  heard  a  conversation  in  which  the  Eoman 
Catholic  Eeligion  was  decried  on  account  of  its  abuses.  "  You  cannot 
deny,  however,"  said  a  lady  of  the  party,  repeating  an  expression  used 
by  Charles  2nd,  "  that  it  is  the  religion  of  a  gentleman."  It  may  be 


COMPOSED  IN  ROSLIN  CHAPEL,  DURING  A  STORM.     277 

left  to  the  Scotch  themselves  to  determine  how  far  this  observation 
applies  to  their  Kirk,  while  it  cannot  be  denied,  if  it  is  wanting  in  that 
characteristic  quality,  the  aspect  of  common  life,  so  far  as  concerns  its 
beauty,  must  suffer.  Sincere  Christian  piety  may  be  thought  not  to 
stand  in  need  of  refinement  or  studied  ornament ;  but  assuredly  it  is 
ever  ready  to  adopt  them,  when  they  fall  within  its  notice,  as  means 
allow  ;  and  this  observation  applies  not  only  to  manners,  but  to  every- 
thing a  Christian  (truly  so  in  spirit)  cultivates  and  gathers  round  him, 
however  humble  his  social  condition.] 

SAY,  ye  far-travelled  clouds,  far-seeing  hills — 

Among  the  happiest-looking  homes  of  men 

Scattered  all  Britain  over,  through  deep  glen, 

On  airy  upland,  and  by  forest  rills, 

And  o'er  wide  plains  cheered  by  the  lark  that  trills 

His  sky-born  warblings1 — does  aught  meet  your  ken 

More  fit  to  animate  the  Poet's  pen, 

Aught  that  more  surely  by  its  aspect  fills 

Pure  minds  with  sinless  envy,  than  the  Abode 

Of  the  good  Priest  ?  who,  faithful  through  all  hours 

To  his  high  charge,  and  truly  serving  God, 

Has  yet  a  heart  and  hand  for  trees  and  flowers, 

Enjoys  the  walks  his  predecessors  trod, 

Nor  covets  lineal  rights  in  lands  and  towers. 


v. 

COMPOSED  IN  EOSLIN  CHAPEL,  DUEING  A 
STOEM. 

[We  were  detained  by  incessant  rain  and  storm  at  the  small  inn  near 
Eoslin  Chapel,  and  I  passed  a  great  part  of  the  day  pacing  to  and  fro 
in  this  beautiful  structure,  which,  though  not  used  for  public  service, 
is  not  allowed  to  go  to  ruin.  Here,  this  Sonnet  was  composed .  If  it 
has  at  all  done  justice  to  the  feeling  which  the  place  and  the  storm 
raging  without  inspired,  I  was  as  a  prisoner.  A  painter  delineating 
the  interior  of  the  chapel  and  its  minute  features  under  such  circuni- 


1845. 


And  o'er  wide  plains  whereon  the  sky  distils 

Her  lark's  loved  warblings  ;  .         .  1835. 


278  THE  TROSSACHS. 

stances  would  have,  no  doubt,  found  his  time  agreeably  shortened. 
But  the  movements  of  the  mind  must  be  more  free  while  dealing  with 
words  than  with  lines  and  colours  ;  such  at  least  was  then  and  has 
been  on  many  other  occasions  my  belief,  and,  as  it  is  allotted  to  few  to 
follow  both  arts  with  success,  I  am  grateful  to  my  own  calling  for  this 
and  a  thousand  other  recommendations  which  are  denied  to  that  of  the 
painter.] 

THE  wind  is  now  thy  organist ; — a  clank 

(We  know  not  whence)  ministers  for  a  bell 

To  mark  some  change  of  service.     As  the  swell 

Of  music  reached  its  height,  and  even  when  sank 

The  notes,  in  prelude,  EOSLIN  !  to  a  blank 

Of  silence,  how  it  thrilled  thy  sumptuous  roof, 

Pillars,  and  arches, — not  in  vain  time-proof, 

Though  Christian  rites  be  wanting !     From  what  bank 

Came  those  live  herbs  ?  by  what  hand  were  they  sown 

Where  dew  falls  not,  where  rain-drops  seem  unknown  ? 

Yet  in  the  Temple  they  a  friendly  niche 

Share  with  their  sculptured  fellows,  that,  green-grown, 

Copy  their  beauty  more  and  more,  and  preach, 

Though  mute,  of  all  things  blending  into  one.* 

VI. 

THE  TEOSSACHS. 

[As  recorded  in  my  sister's  Journal,  I  had  first  seen  the  Trossachs  in 
her  and  Coleridge's  company.  The  sentiment  that  runs  through  this 
Sonnet  was  natural  to  the  season  in  which  I  again  saw  this  beautiful 
spot ;  but  this  and  some  other  sonnets  that  follow  were  coloured  by 
the  remembrance  of  my  recent  visit  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  the 
melancholy  errand  on  which  he  was  going.] 

THERE'S  not  a  nook  within  this  solemn  Pass, 
But  were  an  apt  confessional  for  One 

*  "  I  cannot  agree  with  you  in  admiring  the  cathedral  of  Melrose  more 
than  the  chapel  at  Roslin.  As  far  as  it  goes,  as  a  whole,  the  chapel  at 
Roslin  appeared  to  me  to  be  perfection,  most  beautiful  in  form,  and  of 
entire  simplicity." — (Dorothy  Wordsworth  to  Mrs  Marshall,  Sept.  1807.) 
-ED. 


THE  PIBROCH'S  NOTE,  DISCOUNTENANCED  OR  MUTE.  279 

Taught  by  his  summer  spent,  his  autumn  gone, 

That  Life  is  but  a  tale  of  morning  grass 

Withered  at  eve.     From  scenes  of  art  which  chase1 

That  thought  away,  turn,  and  with  watchful  eyes 

Feed  it  'mid  Nature's  old  felicities, 

Rocks,  rivers,  and  smooth  lakes  more  clear  than  glass 

Untouched,  unbreathed  upon.     Thrice  happy  quest, 

If  from  a  golden  perch  of  aspen  spray 

(October's  workmanship  to  rival  May) 

The  pensive  warbler  of  the  ruddy  breast 

That2  moral  sweeten  by  a  heaven-taught  lay, 

Lulling  the  year,  with  all  its  cares,  to  rest ! 


VII. 

THE  pibroch's  note,  discountenanced  or  mute ; 

The  Eoman  kilt,  degraded  to  a  toy 

Of  quaint  apparel  for  a  half-spoilt  boy  ; 

The  target  mouldering  like  ungathered  fruit ; 

The  smoking  steam-boat  eager  in  pursuit, 

As  eagerly  pursued ;  the  umbrella  spread 

To  weather-fend  the  Celtic  herdsman's  head — 

All  speak  of  manners  withering  to  the  root, 

And  of3  old  honours,  too,  and  passions  high : 

Then  may  we  ask,  though  pleased  that  thought  should  range 

Among  the  conquests  of  civility, 

Survives  imagination — to  the  change 

Superior  ?     Help  to  virtue  does  she  give  ?4 

If  not,  O  Mortals,  better  cease  to  live ! 

1  1837. 

that  chase  1835. 

2  1837. 

This 1835. 

3  1845. 

And  some 1835. 

4  1845. 

it  give  ?  1835. 


280  COMPOSED  IN  THE  GLEN  OF  LOCH  ETIVE. 


VIII. 

COMPOSED  AFTER  BEADING  A  NEWSPAPER 
OF  THE  DAY.* 

Comp.  1831.  Pub.  1835. 

"  PEOPLE  !  your  chains  are  severing  link  by  link ; 
Soon  shall  the  Rich  be  levelled  down — the  Poor 
Meet  them  half-way."     Vain  boast !  for  These,  the  more 
They  thus  would  rise,  must  low  and  lower  sink 
Till,  by  repentance  stung,  they  fear  to  think ; 
While  all  lie  prostrate,  save  the  tyrant  few 
Bent  in  quick  turns  each  other  to  undo, 
And  mix  the  poison  they  themselves  must  drink. 
Mistrust  thyself,  vain  Country !  cease  to  cry, 
"  Knowledge  will  save  me  from  the  threatened  woe." 
For,  if  than  other  rash  ones  more  thou  know, 
Yet  on  presumptuous  wing  as  far  would  fly 
Above  thy  knowledge  as  they  dared  to  go, 
Thou  wilt  provoke  a  heavier  penalty. 

IX. 

COMPOSED  IN  THE  GLEN  OF  LOCH  ETIVE. 

["  That  make  the  Patriot  spirit."  It  was  mortifying  to  have  frequent 
occasions  to  observe  the  bitter  hatred  of  the  lower  orders  of  the 
Highlanders  to  their  superiors  ;  love  of  country  seemed  to  have  passed 
into  its  opposite.  Emigration  was  the  only  relief  looked  to  with 
hope.]  t 

*  This  Sonnet  ought  to  heave  followed  No.  VII.  in  the  series  of  1831,  but 
was  omitted  by  mistake.  W.W.,  1835. 

As  the  above  note  indicates  Wordsworth's  own  wish  as  to  where  the  Sonnet 
should  be  placed,  and  approximately  gives  the  date  of  composition,  it  is 
placed  as  No.  VIII.  in  the  Sonnets  of  1831.  In  later  editions,  Wordsworth 
placed  it  as  the  first  in  the  series  of  sonnets  dedicated  to  Liberty  and  Order. 
—ED. 

t  This  Fenwick  note  is  significant.  These  things  repeat  themselves,  and 
are  as  true  in  1885,  as  they  were  in  1831. — ED. 


EAGLES.  281 

"  THIS  Land  of  Rainbows  spanning  glens  whose  walls, 
Eock-built,  are  hung  with  rainbow-coloured  inists — 
Of  far-stretched  Meres  whose  salt  flood  never  rests  — 
Of  tuneful  Caves  and  playful  Waterfalls — 
Of  Mountains  varying  momently  their  crests — 
Proud  be  this  Land !  whose  poorest  huts  are  halls 
Where  Fancy  entertains  becoming  guests ; 
While  native  song  the  heroic  Past  recals." 
Thus,  in  the  net  of  her  own  wishes  caught, 
The  Muse  exclaimed ;  but  Story  now  must  hide 
Her  trophies,  Fancy  crouch ;  the  course  of  pride 
Has  been  diverted,  other  lessons  taught, 
That  make  the  Patriot-spirit  bow  her  head 
Where  the  all-conquering  Eoman  feared  to  tread. 


X. 
EAGLES. 

COMPOSED  AT  DUNOLLIE  CASTLE  IN  THE  BAT  OF  OBAN. 

["  The  last  I  saw  was  on  the  wing,"  off  the  promontory  of  Fairhead, 
county  of  Antrim.  I  mention  this  because,  though  my  tour  in  Ireland 
with  Mr  Marshall  and  his  son  was  made  many  years  ago,  this  allusion 
to  the  eagle  is  the  only  image  supplied  by  it  to  the  poetry  I  have  since 
written.  We  travelled  through  that  country  in  October,  and  to  the 
shortness  of  the  days  and  the  speed  with  which  we  travelled  (in  a 
carriage  and  four)  may  be  ascribed  this  want  of  notices,  in  my  verse,  of 
a  country  so  interesting.  The  deficiency  I  am  somewhat  ashamed  of, 
and  it  is  the  more  remarkable  as  contrasted  with  my  Scotch  and  Con- 
tinental tours,  of  which  are  to  be  found  in  these  volumes  so  many 
memorials.] 

DISHONOUEED  Eock  and  Euin  !  that,  by  law 
Tyrannic,  keep  the  Bird  of  Jove  embarred 
Like  a  lone  criminal  whose  life  is  spared. 
Vexed  is  he,  and  screams  loud.     The  last  I  saw 
Was  on  the  wing ;  stooping,  he  struck  with  awe 
Man,  bird,  and  beast;  then,  with  a  consort  paired, 


282  IN  THE  SOUND  OF  MULL. 

From  a  bold  headland,  their  loved  aery's  guard, 
Flew  high  above  Atlantic  waves,  to  draw 
Light  from  the  fountain  of  the  setting  sun. 
Such  was  this  Prisoner  once ;  and,  when  his  plumes 
The  sea-blast  ruffles  as  the  storm  comes  on, 
Then,  for  a  moment,  he,  in  spirit,  resumes l 
His  rank  'mong  freeborn  creatures  that  live  free, 
His  power,  his  beauty,  and  his  majesty. 


XL 
IN  THE  SOUND  OF  MULL. 

[Touring  late  in  the  season  in  Scotland  is  an  uncertain  speculation. 
We  were  detained  a  week  by  rain  at  Bunaw  on  Loch  Etive  in  a  vain 
hope  that  the  weather  would  clear  up  and  allow  me  to  show  my  daughter 
the  beauties  of  Glencoe.  Two  days  we  were  at  the  Isle  of  Mull,  on  a 
visit  to  Major  Campbell ;  but  it  rained  incessantly,  and  we  were  obliged 
to  give  up  our  intention  of  going  to  Staffa.  The  rain  pursued  us  to 
Tyndrum,  where  the  Twelfth  Sonnet  was  composed  in  a  storm.] 

TRADITION,  be  thou  mute  !  Oblivion,  throw 

Thy  veil  in  mercy  o'er  the  records,  hung 

Round  strath  and  mountain,  stamped  by  the  ancient  tongue 

On  rock  and  ruin  darkening  as  we  go, — 

Spots  where  a  word,  ghost-like,  survives  to  show 

What  crimes  from  hate,  or  desperate  love,  have  sprung ; 

From  honour  misconceived,  or  fancied  wrong, 

What  feuds,  not  quenched  but  fed  by  mutual  woe. 

Yet,  though  a  wild  vindictive  Race,  untamed 

By  civil  arts  and  labours  of  the  pen, 

Could  gentleness  be  scorned  by  those 2  fierce  Men, 

1  1845. 

In  spirit,  for  a  moment,  he  resumes  1835. 

2  1837. 

these  1835. 


SUGGESTED  AT  TYNDRUM  IN  A  STORM.  283 

Who,  to  spread  wide  the  reverence  they  claimed1 

Por  patriarchal  occupations,  named 

Yon  towering  Peaks,  '  Shepherds  of  Etive  Glen  ? '  * 


XII. 

SUGGESTED  AT  TYNDKUM  IN  A  STORM. 

ENOUGH  of  garlands,  of  the  Arcadian  crook, 

And  all  that  Greece  and  Italy  have  sung 

Of  Swains  reposing  myrtle  groves  among ! 

Ours  couch  on  naked  rocks, — will  cross  a  brook 

Swoln  with  chill  rains,  nor  ever  cast  a  look 

This  way  or  that,  or  give  it  even  a  thought 

More  than  by  smoothest  pathway  may  be  brought 

Into  a  vacant  mind.      Can  written  book 

Teach  what  tliey  learn  ?     Up,  hardy  Mountaineer  ! 

And  guide  the  Bard,  ambitious  to  be  One 

Of  Nature's  privy  council,  as  thou  art, 

On  cloud-sequestered  heights,  that  see  and  hear 

To  what  dread  powers  2  He  delegates  his  part 

On  earth,  who  works  in  the  heaven  of  heavens,  alone. 


XIII. 

THE  EARL  OF  BREADALBANE'S  RUINED  MANSION,  AND 
FAMILY  BURIAL-PLACE,  NEAR  KILLIN. 

WELL  sang  the  Bard  who  called  the  grave,  in  strains 
Thoughtful  and  sad,  the  '  narrow  house.'     No  style 
Of  fond  sepulchral  flattery  can  beguile 

1  1837. 

reverence  that  they  claimed      1835. 

2  1837. 

Power        ....  1835. 

*  In  Gaelic,  Buachaill  Etive.— W,  W.,  1835. 


284  "  BEST  AND  BE  THANKFUL. 

Grief  of  her  sting ;  nor  cheat,  where  he  detains 
The  sleeping  dust,  stern  Death.      How  reconcile 
With  truth,  or  with  each  other,  decked  remains 
Of  a  once  warm  Abode,  and  that  new  Pile, 
For  the  departed,  built  with  curious  pains 
And  mausolean  pomp  ?  *     Yet  here  they  stand 
Together, — 'mid  trim  walks  and  artful  bowers, 
To  be  looked  down  upon  by  ancient  hills, 
That,  for  the  living  and  the  dead,  demand 
And  prompt  a  harmony  of  genuine  powers ; 
Concord  that  elevates  the  mind,  and  stills. 


XIV. 

"REST  AND  BE  THANKFUL!" 

AT  THE  HEAD  OF  GLENCROE. 

DOUBLING  and  doubling  with  laborious  walk, 

Who,  that  has  gained  at  length  the  wished-for  Height, 

This  brief  this  simple  way-side  Call  can  slight, 

And.  rests  not  thankful  ?     Whether  cheered  by  talk 

With  some  loved  friend,  or  by  the  unseen  hawk 

Whistling  to  clouds  and  sky-born  streams,  that  shine 

At  the  sun's  outbreak,  as  with  light  divine, 

Ere  they  descend  to  nourish  root  and  stalk 

Of  valley  flowers.     Nor,  while  the  limbs  repose, 

Will  we  forget  that,  as  the  fowl  can  keep 

Absolute  stillness,  poised  aloft  in  air, 

And  fishes  front,  unmoved,  the  torrent's  sweep, — 

So  may  the  Soul,  through  powers  that  Faith  bestows, 

Win  rest,  and  ease,  and  peace,  with  bliss  that  Angels  share. 

*  Finlarig,  near  Killin,  is  the  burial  place  of  the  Breadalbane  family. 
' '  The  modern  mausoleum  occupies  a  solitary  position  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
old  ruins." — ED. 


HIGHLAND  HUT.  285 

XV. 

HIGHLAND  HUT. 

SEE  what  gay  wild  flowers  deck  this  earth-built  Cot, 

Whose  smoke,  forth-issuing  whence  and  how  it  may, 

Shines  in  the  greeting  of  the  sun's  first  ray 

Like  wreaths  of  vapour  without  stain  or  blot. 

The  limpid  mountain  rill  avoids  it  not ; 

And  why  shouldst  thou  ? — If  rightly  trained  and  bred, 

Humanity  is  humble,  finds  no  spot 

Which  her  Heaven-guided  feet  refuse  to  tread. 

The  walls  are  cracked,  sunk  is  the  flowery  roof, 

Undressed  the  pathway  leading  to  the  door ; 

But  love,  as  Nature  loves,  the  lonely  Poor ; 

Search,  for  their  worth,  some  gentle  heart  wrong-proof, 

Meek,  patient,  kind,  and,  were  its  trials  fewer, 

Belike  less  happy. — Stand  no  more  aloof !  * 

*  This  Sonnet  describes  the  exterior  of  a  Highland  hut,  as  often  seen 
under  morning  or  evening  sunshine.  To  the  authoress  of  the  "Address  to 
the  Wind,"  and  other  poems,  in  this  volume,  who  was  my  fellow-traveller 
in  this  tour,  I  am  indebted  for  the  following  extract  from  her  journal, 
which  accurately  describes,  under  particular  circumstances,  the  beautiful 
appearance  of  the  interior  of  one  of  these  rude  habitations. 

"  On  our  return  from  the  Trossachs  the  evening  began  to  darken,  and  it 
rained  so  heavily  that  we  were  completely  wet  before  we  had  come  two 
miles,  and  it  was  dark  when  we  landed  with  our  boatman,  at  his  hut  upon 
the  banks  of  Loch  Katrine.  I  was  faint  from  cold  :  the  good  woman  had 
provided,  according  to  her  promise,  a  better  lire  than  we  had  found  in  the 
morning ;  and,  indeed,  when  I  sat  down  in  the  chimney-corner  of  her 
smoky  biggin,  I  thought  I  had  never  felt  more  comfortable  in  my  life ;  a 
pan  of  coffee  was  boiling  for  us,  and,  having  put  our  clothes  in  the  way  of 
drying,  we  all  sat  down  thankful  for  a  shelter.  We  could  not  prevail  upon 
our  boatman,  the  master  of  the  house,  to  draw  near  the  fire,  though  he 
was  cold  and  wet,  or  to  suffer  his  wife  to  get  him  dry  clothes  till  she  had 
served  us,  which  she  did  most  willingly,  though  not  very  expeditiously. 

"  A  Cumberland  man  of  the  same  rank  would  not  have  had  such  a  notion 
of  what  was  fit  and  right  in  his  own  house,  or,  if  he  had,  one  would  have 
accused  him  of  servility  ;  but  in  the  Highlander  it  only  seemed  like  polite- 
ness (however  erroneous  and  painful  to  us),  naturally  growing  out  of  the 


286  THE  BROWNIE. 

XVI. 
THE  BEOWKIE. 

Upon  a  small  island  not  far  from  the  head  of  Loch  Lomond,  are 
some  remains  of  an  ancient  building,  which  was  for  several  years  the 
abode  of  a  solitary  Individual,  one  of  the  last  survivors  of  the  clan  of 
Macfarlane,  once  powerful  in  that  neighbourhood.  Passing  along  the 
shore  opposite  this  island  in  the  year  1814,  the  Author  learned  these 
particulars,  and  that  this  person  then  living  there  had  acquired  the 
appellation  of  <  The  Brownie.'  See  "  The  Brownie's  Cell "  (Vol.  VI., 
p.  24),  to  which  the  following  is  a  sequel. 

"  How  disappeared  he  ?"     Ask  the  newt  and  toad ; 
Ask  of  his  fellow  men,  and  they  will  tell 
How  he  was  found,  cold  as  an  icicle, 
Under  an  arch  of  that  forlorn  abode ; 

dependence  of  the  inferiors  of  the  clan  upon  their  laird ;  he  did  not,  how- 
ever, refuse  to  let  his  wife  bring  out  the  whisky  bottle  for  his  refreshment, 
at  our  request.  'She  keeps  a  dram,'  as  the  phrase  is:  indeed,  I  believe 
there  is  scarcely  a  lonely  house  by  the  wayside,  in  Scotland,  where 
travellers  may  not  be  accommodated  with  a  dram.  We  asked  for  sugar, 
butter,  barley -bread,  and  milk  ;  and,  with  a  smile  and  a  stare  more  of 
kindness  than  wonder,  she  replied,  '  Ye'll  get  that, '  bringing  each  article 
separately.  We  caroused  our  cups  of  coffee,  laughing  like  children  at  the 
strange  atmosphere  in  which  we  were  :  the  smoke  came  in  gusts,  and 
spread  along  the  walls  ;  and  above  our  heads  in  the  chimney  (where  the 
hens  were  roosting)  it  appeared  like  clouds  in  the  sky.  We  laughed  and 
laughed  again,  in  spite  of  the  smarting  of  our  eyes,  yet  had  a  quieter 
pleasure  in  observing  the  beauty  of  the  beams  and  rafters  gleaming  between 
the  clouds  of  smoke  :  they  had  been  crusted  over,  and  varnished  by  many 
winters,  till,  where  the  tirelight  fell  upon  them,  they  had  become  as  glossy 
as  black  rocks,  on  a  sunny  day,  cased  in  ice.  When  we  had  eaten  our 
supper  we  sat  about  half  an  hour,  and  I  think  I  never  felt  so  deeply  the 
blessing  of  a  hospitable  welcome  and  a  warm  fire.  The  man  of  the  house 
repeated  from  time  that  we  should  often  tell  of  this  night  when  we  got  to 
our  homes,  and  interposed  praises  of  his  owu  lake,  which  he  had  more  than 
once,  when  we  were  returning  in  the  boat,  ventured  to  say  was  '  bonnier 
than  Loch  Lomond. '  Our  companion  from  the  Trossachs,  who,  it  appeared, 
was  an  Edinburgh  drawing-master  going,  during  the  vacation,  on  a  pedes- 
trian tour  to  John  o'Groat's  house,  was  to  sleep  in  the  barn  with  my 
fellow-travellers,  where  the  man  said  he  had  plenty  of  dry  hay.  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  hay  of  the  Highlands  is  ever  very  dry,  but  this  year  it  had 


THE  BROWNIE.  287 

Where  he,  unpropped,  and  by  the  gathering  flood 

Of  years  hemmed  round,  had  dwelt,  prepared  to  try 

Privation's  worst  extremities,  and  die 

With  no  one  near  save  the  omnipresent  God. 

Verily  so  to  live  was  an  awful  choice — 

A  choice  that  wears  the  aspect  of  a  doom ; 

But  in  the  mould  of  mercy  all  is  cast 

For  Souls  familiar  with  the  eternal  Voice  ; 

And  this  forgotten  Taper  to  the  last 

Drove  from  itself,  we  trust,  all  frightful  gloom. 


a  better  chance  than  usual :  wet  or  dry,  however,  the  next  morning  they 
said  they  had  slept  comfortably.  When  I  went  to  bed,  the  mistress, 
desiring  me  to  'go  ben,'  attended  me  with  a  candle,  and  assured  me  that 
the  bed  was  dry,  though  not  '  sic  as  I  had  been  used  to. '  It  was  of  chaff ; 
there  were  two  others  in  the  room,  a  cupboard  and  two  chests,  upon  one  of 
which  stood  milk  in  wooden  vessels,  covered  over.  The  walls  of  the  house 
were  of  stone  unplastered  :  it  consisted  of  three  apartments,  the  cowhouse 
at  one  end,  the  kitchen  or  house  in  the  middle,  and  the  spence  at  the  other 
end ;  the  rooms  were  divided,  not  up  to  the  rigging,  but  only  to  the 
beginning  of  the  roof,  so  that  there  was  a  free  passage  for  light  and  smoke 
from  one  end  of  the  house  to  the  other.  I  went  to  bed  some  time  before 
the  rest  of  the  family  ;  the  door  was  shut  between  us,  and  they  had  a 
bright  fire,  which  I  could  not  see,  but  the  light  it  sent  up  amongst  the 
varnished  rafters  and  beams,  which  crossed  each  other  in  almost  as 
intricate  and  fantastic  a  manner  as  I  have  seen  the  under-boughs  of  a  large 
beech  tree  withered  by  the  depth  of  shade  above,  produced  the  most 
beautiful  effect  that  can  be  conceived.  It  was  like  what  I  should  suppose 
an  underground  cave  or  temple  to  be,  with  a  dripping  or  moist  roof, 
and  the  moonlight  entering  in  upon  it  by  some  means  or  other  ;  and  yet 
the  colours  were  more  like  those  of  melted  gems.  I  lay  looking  up  till  the 
light  of  the  fire  faded  away,  and  the  man  and  his  wife  and  child  had  crept 
into  their  bed  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  :  I  did  not  sleep  much,  but 
passed  a  comfortable  night ;  for  my  bed,  though  hard,  was  warm  and  clean : 
the  unusualness  of  my  situation  prevented  me  from  sleeping.  I  could  hear 
the  waves  beat  against  the  shore  of  the  lake  :  a  little  rill  close  to  the  door 
made  a  much  louder  noise,  and,  when  I  sat  up  in  my  bed,  I  could  see  the 
lake  through  an  open  window-place  at  the  bed's  head.  Add  to  this,  it 
rained  all  night.  I  was  less  occupied  by  remembrance  of  the  Trosachs, 
beautiful  as  they  were,  than  the  vision  of  the  Highland  hut,  which  I  could 
not  get  out  of  my  head  ;  I  thought  of  the  Faery-land  of  Spenser,  and  what 
I  had  read  in  romance  at  other  times  ;  and  then  what  a  feast  it  would  be 
for  a  London  Pantomime-maker  could  he  but  transplant  it  to  Drury-lane, 
with  all  its  beautiful  colours  !  "— MS.— W.  W.,  1835. 


288  BOTHWELL  CASTLE. 


XVII. 
TO  THE  PLANET  VENUS,  AN  EVENING  STAR. 

COMPOSED  AT  LOCH  LOMOND. 

THOUGH  joy  attend  Thee  orient  at  the  birth 

Of  dawn,  it  cheers  the  lofty  spirit  most 

To  watch  thy  course  when  Day-light,  fled  from  earth, 

In  the  grey  sky  hath  left  his  lingering  Ghost, 

Perplexed  as  if  between  a  splendour  lost 

And  splendour  slowly  mustering.      Since  the  Sun, 

The  absolute,  the  world-absorbing  One, 

Relinquished  half  his  empire  to  the  host 

Emboldened  by  thy  guidance,  holy  Star, 

Holy  as  princely — who  that  looks  on  thee, 

Touching,  as  now,  in  thy  humility 

The  mountain  borders  of  this  seat  of  care, 

Can  question  that  thy  countenance  is  bright, 

Celestial  Power,  as  much  with  love  as  light  ? 


XVIII. 

BOTHWELL  CASTLE. 

(PASSED  UNSEEN  ON  ACCOUNT  OF  STORMY  WEATHER.) 

[In  my  Sister's  Journal  is  an  account  of  Both  well  Castle  as  it  appeared 
to  us  at  that  time.] 

IMMURED  in  Bothwell's  towers,  at  times  the  Brave 

(So  beautiful  is  Clyde)  forgot  to  mourn 

The  liberty  they  lost  at  Bannockburn. 

Once  on  those  steeps  /  roamed  *  at  large,  and  have 

*  The  following  is  from  the  same  MS. ,  and  gives  an  account  of  the  visit 
to  Both  well  Castle  here  alluded  to  :— 

"It  was  exceedingly  delightful  to  enter  thus  unexpectedly  upon  such  a 
beautiful  region.  The  castle  stands  nobly,  overlooking  the  Clyde.  When 


BOTHWELL  CASTLE.  289 

In  mind  the  landscape,  as  if  still  in  sight ; 
The  river  glides,  the  woods  before  me  wave ; 
Then  why  repine  that  now  in  vain  I  crave  l 
Needless  renewal  of  an  old  delight  ? 

1  1837. 

But,  by  occasion  tempted,  now  I  crave  1835. 

we  came  up  to  it,  I  was  hurt  to  see  that  flower-borders  had  taken  place  of 
the  natural  overgrowings  of  the  ruin,  the  scattered  stones,  and  wild  plants. 
It  is  a  large  and  grand  pile  of  red  free-stone,  harmonising  perfectly  with 
the  rocks  of  the  river,  from  which,  no  doubt,  it  has  been  hewn.     When  I 
was  a  little  accustomed  to  the  unnaturalness  of  a  modern  garden,  I  could 
not  help  admiring  the  excessive  beauty  and  luxuriance  of  some  of  the 
plants,  particularly  the  purple -flowered  clematis,  and  a  broad-leafed  creep- 
ing plant  without  flowers  which  scrambled  up  the  castle  wall,  along  with 
the  ivy,  and  spread  its  vine-like  branches  so  lavishly  that  it  seemed  to  be 
in  its  natural  situation,  and  one  could  not  help  thinking  that,  though  not 
self-planted  among  the  ruins  of  this  country,  it  must  somewhere  have  its 
native  abode  in  such  places.     If  Bothwell  Castle  had  not  been  close  to  the 
Douglas  mansion,  we  should  have  been  disgusted  with   the  possessor's 
miserable  conception  of  adorning  such  a  venerable  ruin  ;  but  it  is  so  very 
near  to  the    house,   that  of  necessity  the  pleasure-grounds  must  have 
extended  beyond  it,  and  perhaps  the  neatness  of  a  shaven  lawn  and  the 
complete  desolation  natural  to  a  ruin   might   have   made   an   unpleasing 
contrast ;  and,  besides  being  within  the  precincts  of  the  pleasure-grounds, 
and  so  very  near  to  the  dwelling  of  a  noble  family,  it  has  forfeited,  in  some 
degree,  its  independent  majesty,  and  becomes  a  tributary  to  the  mansion  : 
its  solitude  being  interrupted,  it  has  no  longer  the  command  over  the  mind 
in  sending  it  back  into  past  tunes,  or  excluding  the  ordinary  feelings  which 
we  bear  about  us  in  daily  life.     We  had  then  only  to  regret  that  the  castle 
and  the  house  were  so  near  to  each  other ;  and  it  was  impossible  not  to 
regret  it ;  for  the  ruin  presides  in  state  over  the  river,  far  from  city  or 
town,  as  if  it  might  have  a  peculiar  privilege  to  preserve  its  memorials  of 
past  ages,  and  maintain  its  own  character  for  centuries  to  come.     We  sat 
upon  a  bench  under  the  high  trees,  and  had  beautiful  views  of  the  different 
reaches  of  the  river,   above  and  below.     On  the  opposite  bank,  which  is 
finely  wooded  with  elms  and  other  trees,  are  the  remains  of  a  priory  built 
upon  a  rock  ;  and  rock  and  ruin  are  so  blended,   that  it  is  impossible  to 
separate  the  one  from  the  other.     Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the 
little  remnant  of  this  holy  place  :  elm  trees  (for  we  were  near  enough  to 
distinguish  them  by  their  branches)  grow  out  of  the  walls,  and  overshadow 
a  small,  but  very  elegant  window.     It  can  scarcely  be  conceived  what  a 
grace  the  castle  and  priory  impart  to  each  other  ;  and  the  river  Clyde  flows 
on,  smooth  and  unruffled  below,  seeming  to  my  thoughts  more  in  harmony 
with  the  sober  and  stately  images  of  former  times,  than  if  it  had  roared 
over  a  rocky  channel,  forcing  its  sound  upon  the  ear.     It  blended  gently 
with  the  warbling  of  the  smaller  birds,  and  the  chattering  of  the  larger 

VII.  T 


290  PICTURE  OF  DANIEL  IN  THE  LIONS*  DEN. 

Better  to  thank  a  dear  and  long-past  day 

"For  joy  its  sunny  hours  were  free  to  give 

Than  blame  the  present,  that  our  wish  hath  crost. 

Memory,  like  sleep,  hath  powers  which  dreams  obey, 

Dreams,  vivid  dreams,  that  are  not  fugitive  : 

How  little  that  she  cherishes  is  lost ! 


XIX. 

PICTUEE  OF  DANIEL  IN  THE  LIONS'  DEN, 
AT  HAMILTON  PALACE. 

AMID  a  fertile  region  green  with  wood 

And  fresh  with  rivers,  well  did l  it  become 

The  ducal  Owner,  in  his  palace-home 

To  naturalise  this  tawny  Lion  brood ; 

Children  of  Art,  that  claim  strange  brotherhood 

(Couched  in  their  den)  with  those  that  roam  at  large 

Over  the  burning  wilderness,  and  charge 

1  1843. 

doth  .  .  .  1835. 

ones,  that  had  made  their  nests  in  the  ruins.  In  this  fortress  the  chief  of 
the  English  nobility  were  confined  after  the  battle  of  Bannockburn.  If  a 
man  is  to  be  a  prisoner,  he  scarcely  could  have  a  more  pleasant  place  to 
solace  his  captivity  ;  but  I  thought  that,  for  close  confinement,  I  should 
prefer  the  banks  of  a  lake,  or  the  seaside.  The  greatest  charm  of  a  brook 
or  river  is  in  the  liberty  to  pursue  it  through  its  windings :  you  can  then 
take  it  in  whatever  mood  you  like  ;  silent  or  noisy,  sportive  or  quiet.  The 
beauties  of  a  brook  or  river  must  be  sought,  and  the  pleasure  is  in  going  in 
search  of  them  ;  those  of  a  lake  or  of  the  sea  come  to  you  of  themselves. 
These  rude  warriors  cared  little,  perhaps,  about  either ;  and  yet,  if  one 
may  judge  from  the  writings  of  Chaucer,  and  from  the  old  romances,  more 
interesting  passions  were  connected  with  natural  objects  in  the  days  of 
chivalry  than  now  ;  though  going  in  search  of  scenery,  as  it  is  called,  had 
not  then  been  thought  of.  I  had  previously  heard  nothing  of  Bothwell 
Castle,  at  least  nothing  that  I  remembered  ;  therefore,  perhaps,  my  pleasure 
was  greater,  compared  with  what  I  received  elsewhere,  than  others  might 
feel."  MS.  Journal—  W.  W.,  1835. 


PICTURE  OF  DANIEL  IN  THE  LIONS*  DEN.  2.91 

The  wind  with  terror  while  they  roar  for  food. 
Satiate  are  these  ;  and  stilled  to  eye  and  ear  ; 
Hence,  while  we  gaze,1  a  more  enduring  fear  ! 
Yet  is  the  Prophet  calm,  nor  would  the  cave 
Daunt  him — if  his  Companions,  now  be-drowsed 
Outstretched 2  and  listless,  were  by  hunger  roused  : 
Man  placed  him  here,  and  God,  he  knows,  can  save. 

1  1845. 

But  these  are  satiate,  and  a  stillness  drear 

Calls  into  life 1835. 

Satiate  are  these  ;  and  still — to  eye  and  ear  ; 

Hence,  while  we  gaze,        ....  1837. 

2  1837. 

Yawning 1835. 

Henry  Crabbe  Eobinson  gives  an  account  of  this  picture  in  his 
Diary,  &c.  (Vol.  II.,  pp.  214-15)  :— 

"On  September  the  29th,  from  Lanark  I  visited  the  Duke  of 
Hamilton's  palace,  and  had  unusual  pleasure  in  the  paintings  to  be 
seen  there.  I  venture  to  copy  my  remarks  on  the  famous  Rubens' 
'  Daniel  in  the  Lions'  Den  : ' — *  The  variety  of  character  in  the  lions  is 
admirable.  Here  is  indignation  at  the  unintelligible  power  which 
restrains  them  ;  there  reverence  towards  the  being  whom  they  dare  not 
touch.  One  of  them  is  consoled  by  the  contemplation  of  the  last  skull 
he  has  been  picking  ;  one  is  anticipating  his  next  meal ;  two  are  debat- 
ing the  subject  together.  But  the  Prophet,  with  a  face  resembling 
Curran's  (foreshortened  so  as  to  lose  its  best  expression),  has  all  the 
muscles  of  his  countenance  strained  from  extreme  terror.  He  is  with- 
out joy  or  hope  ;  and  though  his  doom  is  postponed,  he  has  no  faith  in 
the  miracle  which  is  to  reward  his  integrity.  It  is  a  painting  rather 
to  astonish  than  delight.'  Daniel's  head  is  thrown  back,  and  he  looks 
upwards  with  an  earnest  expression  and  clasped  hands,  as  if  vehemently 
supplicating.  The  picture  formerly  belonged  to  King  Charles  I.  It 
was  at  that  time  entered  as  follows  in  the  Catalogue  of  the  Eoyal 
Pictures  : — '  A  piece  of  Daniel  in  the  Lions'  Den  with  lions  about  him, 
given  by  the  deceased  Lord  Dorchester  to  the  king,  being  so  big  as  the 
life.  Done  by  Sir  Peter  Paul  Rubens.'  Dr  Waagen  very  justly 
observes  that,  upon  the  whole,  the  figure  of  Daniel  is  only  an  accessory 
employed  by  the  great  master  to  introduce,  in  the  most  perfect  form, 
nine  figures  of  lions  and  lionesses  the  size  of  life.  Rubens,  in  a  letter 
to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  (who  presented  the  picture  to  the  king),  dated 
April  28th,  1618,  expressly  states  that  it  was  wholly  his  own  work- 


292  THE  AVON. 

manship.     The  price  was  six  hundred  florins.     Engraved  in  mezzotint 
by  W.  Ward,  1789." 

This  picture  subsequently  passed  into  the  possession  of  the  Duke  of 
Hamilton,  and  was  sold  in  1882  to  Mr  Denison,  Yorkshire.  The 
following  is  from  the  catalogue  of  the  Hamilton  Palace  sale  : — 

EUBENS — DANIEL  IN  THE  DEN  OF  LIONS. — The  prophet  is  represented 
sitting  naked  in  the  middle  of  the  den,  his  hands  clasped,  and  his  coun- 
tenance directed  upward  with  an  expression  of  earnest  prayer.  Nine 
lions  are  prowling  around  him.  Engraved  by  Blooteling,  Van  der 
Leuw,  and  Lamb,  and  in  mezzotint  by  J.  Ward.  There  is  also  an  etching 
of  it  by  Street,  extremely  rare.  This  is  one  of  the  few  great  pictures 
by  Eeubens  which  we  know  with  certainty  to  have  been  entirely 
executed  by  his  own  hand.  Reubens  says  this  explicitly  in  an  Italian 
letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  which  Mr  Carpenter  has  printed  in  his 
*  Pictorial  Notices,'  p.  140.  This  picture  was  presented  by  Sir  Dudley 
Carleton  to  Charles  I.,  and  is  inserted  in  the  printed  catalogue  of  his 
collection  at  page  87. 

"  No.  14. 

Done  by       (  Item. — A  piece  of  Daniel  in  the  lions'  den,  with  lions 

Sir  Peter  <  about  him.  Given  by  the  deceased  Lord  Dorchester 
Paul  Rubens.  I  to  the  king,  so  big  as  the  life,  in  a  black  gilded  frame." 

It  was  sold  to  Mr  Denison  for  £5145.— ED. 


XX. 

THE  AVON. 

(A  FEEDER  OF  THE  ANNAN.) 

["  Yet  is  it  one  that  other  rivulets  bear."  There  is  the  Shakespeare 
Avon,  the  Bristol  Avon  ;  the  one  that  flows  by  Salisbury,  and  a  small 
river  in  Wales,  I  believe,  bear  the  name ;  Avon  being  in  the  ancient 
tongue  the  general  name  for  river.] 

AVON — a  precious,  an  immortal  name  ! 

Yet  is  it  one  that  other  rivulets  bear 

Like  this  unheard-of,  and  their  channels  wear 

Like  this  contented,  though  unknown  to  Fame : 

For  great  and  sacred  is  the  modest  claim 

Of  Streams  to  Nature's  love,  where'er  they  flow ; 

And  ne'er  did  Genius  slight  them,  as  they  go, 

Tree,  flower,  and  green  herb,  feeding  without  blame. 

But  Praise  can  waste  her  voice  on  work  of  tears, 


VIEW  FROM  AN  EMINENCE  IN  INGLEWOOD  FOREST.  293 

Anguish,  and  death :  full  oft  where  innocent  blood 

Has  mixed  its  current  with  the  limpid  flood, 

Her  heaven-offending  trophies  Glory  rears : 

Never  for  like  distinction  may  the  good 

Shrink  from  tliy  name,  pure  Pall,  with  unpleased  ears. 


XXI. 

SUGGESTED  BY  A  VIEW  FROM  AN  EMINENCE 
IN  INGLEWOOD  FOBEST. 

[The  extensive  forest  of  Inglewood  has  been  enclosed  within  my 
memory.  I  was  well  acquainted  with  it  in  its  ancient  state.  The 
Hart's-horn  tree  mentioned  in  the  next  Sonnet  was  one  of  its  remark- 
able objects,  as  well  as  another  tree  that  grew  upon  an  eminence  not 
far  from  Penrith  :  it  was  single  and  conspicuous  ;  and  being  of  a  round 
shape,  though  it  was  universally  known  to  be  a  Sycamore,  it  was  always 
called  the  "  Bound  Thorn,"  so  difficult  is  it  to  chain  fancy  down  to 
fact.] 

THE  forest  huge  of  ancient  Caledon 

Is  but  a  name,  no 1  more  is  Inglewood, 

That  swept  from  hill  to  hill,  from  flood  to  flood  : 

On  her  last  thorn  the  nightly  moon  has  shone ; 

Yet  still,  though  unappropriate  Wild  be  none, 

Fair  parks  spread  wide  where  Adam  Bell  might  deign 

With  Clym  o'  the  Clough,  were  they  alive  again, 

To  kill  for  merry  feast  their  venison. 

Nor  wants  the  holy  Abbot's  gliding  Shade 

His  church  with  monumental  wreck  bestrown ; 

The  feudal  Warrior-chief,  a  Ghost  unlaid, 

Hath  still  his  castle,  though  a  skeleton, 

That  he  may  watch  by  night,  and  lessons  con 

Of 'power  that  perishes,  and  rights  that  fade. 

1  1845. 

.  nor  1835. 


294  HART'S-HORN  TREE,  NEAR  PENRITH. 

XXII. 

HAKT'S-HOKN  TEEE,  NEAR  PENKITH.* 

HERE  stood  an  Oak,  that  long  had  borne  affixed 

To  his  huge  trunk,  or,  with  more  subtle  art, 

Among  its  withering  topmost  branches  mixed, 

The  palmy  antlers  of  a  hunted  Hart, 

Whom  the  Dog  Hercules  pursued — his  part 

Each  desperately  sustaining,  till  at  last 

Both  sank  and  died,  the  life-veins  of  the  chased 

And  chaser  bursting  here  with  one  dire  smart. 

Mutual  the  victory,  mutual  the  defeat ! 

High  was  the  trophy  hung  with  pitiless  pride ; 

Say,  rather,  with  that  generous  sympathy 

That  wants  not,  even  in  the  rudest  breasts,  a  seat ; 

And,  for  this  feeling's  sake  let  no  one  chide 

Verse  that  would  guard  thy  memory,  HART'S-HORN  TREE  !  t 

*  This  tree  has  perished,  but  its  site  is  still  well  known.  Compare 
the  note  to  Roman  Antiquities,  p.  297. — ED. 

t  "  In  the  time  of  the  first  Robert  de  Clifford,  in  the  year  1333  or  1334, 
Edward  Baliol  king  of  Scotland  came  into  Westmoreland,  and  stayed  some 
time  with  the  said  Robert  at  his  castles  of  Appleby,  Brougham,  and 
Pendragon.  And  during  that  time  they  ran  a  stag  by  a  single  greyhound 
out  of  Whinfell  Park,  to  Redkirk,  in  Scotland,  and  back  again  to  this 
place  ;  where,  being  both  spent,  the  stag  leaped  over  the  pales,  but  died  on 
the  other  side ;  and  the  greyhound,  attempting  to  leap,  fell,  and  died  on 
the  contrary  side.  In  memory  of  this  fact  the  stag's  horns  were  nailed 
upon  a  tree  just  by,  and  (the  dog  being  named  Hercules)  this  rhythm  was 
made  upon  them  : 

'  Hercules  kill'd  Hart  a  greese, 

And  Hart  a  greese  kill'd  Hercules.' 

The  tree  to  this  day  bears  the  name  of  Hart's-horn  Tree.  The  horns  in 
process  of  time  were  almost  grown  over  by  the  growth  of  the  tree,  and 
another  pair  was  put  up  in  their  place." — Nicholson  and  Burns' s  History  of 
Westmoreland  and  Cumberland. 

The  tree  has  now  disappeared,  but  I  well  remember  its  imposing  appear- 
ance as  it  stood,  in  a  decayed  state,  by  the  side  of  the  high  road  leading 
from  Penrith  to  Appleby.  This  whole  neighbourhood  abounds  in  interest- 
ing traditions  and  vestiges  of  antiquity,  viz. ,  Julian's  Bower ;  Brougham 
and  Penrith  Castles ;  Penrith  Beacon,  and  the  curious  remains  in  Penrith 
Churchyard ;  Arthur's  Round  Table,  and,  close  by,  Maybrough ;  the 
excavation,  called  the  Giant's  Cave,  on  the  banks  of  the  Emont ;  Long 
Meg  and  her  Daughters,  near  Eden,  &c.,  &c.— W.  W.,  1835. 


COUNTESS'  PILLAR.  295 

XXIII. 

FANCY  AND  TEADITION. 

THE  Lovers  took  within  this  ancient  grove 
Their  last  embrace  ;  beside  those  crystal  springs 1 
The  Hermit  saw  the  Angel  spread  his  wings 
For  instant  flight ;  the  Sage  in  yon  alcove  2 
Sat  musing ;  on  that  hill  the  Bard  would  rove, 
Not  mute,  where  now  the  linnet  only  sings : 
Thus  everywhere  to  truth  Tradition  clings  3 
Or  Fancy  localises  Powers  we  love. 
Were  only  History  4  licensed  to  take  note 
Of  things  gone  by,  her  meagre  monuments 
Would  ill  suffice  for  persons  and  events : 
There  is  an  ampler  page  for  man  to  quote, 
A  readier  book  of  manifold  contents, 
Studied  alike  in  palace  and  in  cot. 


XXIV. 

COUNTESS'  PILLAR* 

[Suggested  by  the  recollection  of  Julian's  Bower  and  other  traditions 
connected  with  this  ancient  forest.] 

On  the  roadside  between  Penrith  and  Appleby,  there  stands  a  pillar 
with  the  following  inscription  :  — 

"  This  pillar  was  erected,  in  the  year  1656,  by  Anne  Countess  Dowager 

1  1835. 

There  fell  the  Hero  in  this  ancient  grove 

The  lovers  pledged  their  faith  beside  these  springs.  MS. 

2  1835. 

this  alcove  MS. 

3  1835. 

Thus  to  the  truth  Tradition  fondly  clings  MS. 

4  1835. 

Were  History  only MS. 

*  The  Countess'  Pillar  is  on  the  high  road  from  Penrith,  a  couple  of  miles 
out  of  the  town  on  the  Appleby  road.  It  is  somewhat  weather-worn,  but 
is  preserved  with  care. — ED. 


296  ROMAN  ANTIQUITIES. 

of  Pembroke,  &c.,  for  a  memorial  of  her  last  parting  with  her  pious 
mother,  Margaret  Countess  Dowager  of  Cumberland,  on  the  2d  of 
April,  1616  ;  in  memory  whereof  she  hath  left  an  annuity  of  4Z.  to  be 
distributed  to  the  poor  of  the  parish  of  Brougham,  every  2d  day  of 
April  for  ever,  upon  the  stone  table  hard  by.  Laus  Deo  ! " 

WHILE  the  Poor  gather  round,  till  the  end  of  time 
May  this  bright  flower  of  Charity  display 
Its  bloom,  unfolding  at  the  appointed  day ; 
Flower  than  the  loveliest  of  the  vernal  prime 
Lovelier — transplanted  from  heaven's  purest  clime  ! 
'  Charity  never  faileth  : '  on  that  creed, 
More  than  on  written  testament  or  deed, 
The  pious  Lady  built  with  hope  sublime. 
Alms  on  this  stone  to  be  dealt  out,  for  ever  ! 
"  LAUS  DEO."     Many  a  Stranger  passing  by 
Has  with  that  Parting  mixed  a  filial  sigh, 
Blest  its  humane  Memorial's  fond  endeavour : 
And,  fastening  on  those  lines  an  eye  tear-glazed, 
Has  ended,  though  no  Clerk,  with  '  God  be  praised  ! ' 

xxv. 

EOMAN  ANTIQUITIES. 

[FROM  THE  ROMAN  STATION  AT  OLD  PENRITH.] 
How  profitless  the  relics  that  we  cull, 
Troubling  the  last  holds  of  ambitious  Rome, 
Unless  they  chasten  fancies  that  presume 
To  high,  or  idle  agitations  lull ! 
Of  the  world's  flatteries  if  the  brain  be  full, 
To  have  no  seat  for  thought  were  better  doom, 
Like  this  old  helmet,  or  the  eyeless  skull 
Of  him  who  gloried  in  its  nodding  plume. 
Heaven  out  of  view,  our  wishes  what  are  they  ? 
Our  fond  regrets  tenacious l  in  their  grasp  ? 

1  1837. 

,  insatiate        .         .         .  1835. 


APOLOGY.  297 

The  Sage's  theory  ?  the  Poet's  lay  ? — 
Mere  Fibulae  without  a  robe  to  clasp ; 
Obsolete  lamps,  whose  light  no  time  recals ; 
Urns  without  ashes,  tearless  lacrymals  ! 

I  am  indebted  to  Dr  Taylor  of  Penrith  for  the  following  note  in 
reference  to  these  "  Eoman  Antiquities  "  at  Old  Penrith  : — "  DEAR 
SIR, — I  have  great  pleasure  in  giving  you  what  information  I  can, 
concerning  the  Roman  Station  of  Old  Penrith.  It  is  called  'Petriana5 
by  Camden,  but  most  archaeologists  now  allocate  it  in  the  '  2nd  Iter,' 
as  the  Station  'Voreda' — on  the  road  between  York  and  Carlisle. 
This  road  passes  over  Stanemoor,  by  Bowes,  Brough,  Kirkbythore, 
Brougham,  and  Plumpton  Wall  (or  Voreda),  to  Lugovallum  or  Carlisle. 
The  Eoman  Camps  are  visible  at  all  these  places,  and  the  old  Roman 
road  is  recognizable  in  many  parts.  This  Old  Penrith,  Plumpton  Wall, 
or  Voreda,  is  a  camp  of  the  third  class.  At  a  time,  probably  about 
the  period  which  Wordsworth  alludes  to,  several  Roman  stones  and 
altars  were  dug  up  at  Voreda,  and  are  now  deposited  in  Lowther 
Castle.  Wordsworth  had  relations  living  in  Penrith,  whom  he  used 
to  visit  occasionally,  and  it  is  probable  that  after  a  visit  to  Voreda, 
which  is  about  six  miles  from  here,  he  wrote  the  Sonnet  alluded  to. 
The  '  Hartshorn  Tree '  referred  to  in  the  '  Legend  of  the  Hunt  of  the 
Stag '  stood  in  the  park  of  Whinf ell,  in  the  parish  of  Brougham,  but 
has  disappeared  for  many  years." — ED. 


XXVI. 

APOLOGY 

FOR  THE   FOREGOING  POEMS. 

No  more :  the  end  is  sudden  and  abrupt, 
Abrupt — as  without  preconceived  design 
Was  the  beginning ;  yet  the  several  Lays 
Have  moved  in  order,  to  each  other  bound 
By  a  continuous  and  acknowledged  tie 
Though  unapparent — like  those  Shapes  distinct 
That  yet  survive  ensculptured  on  the  walls 
Of  palaces,  or  temples,1  'mid  the  wreck 

1845. 

Of  Palace,  or  of  Temple,        .        .        .  1835. 


298  APOLOGY. 

Of  famed  Persepolis  ;*  each  following  each, 

As  might  beseem  a  stately  embassy, 

In  set  array ;  these  bearing  in  their  hands 

Ensign  of  civil  power,  weapon  of  war, 

Or  gift  to  be  presented  at  the  throne 

Of  the  Great  King ;  and  others,  as  they  go 

In  priestly  vest,  with  holy  offerings  charged, 

Or  leading  victims  drest  for  sacrifice. 

Nor  will  the  Power  we  serve,  that  sacred  Power, 

The  Spirit  of  humanity,  disdain 

A 3  ministration  humble  but  sincere, 

That  from  a  threshold  loved  by  every  Muse 

Its  impulse  took — that  sorrow-stricken  door, 

Whence,  as  a  current  from  its  fountain-head, 

Our  thoughts  have  issued,  and  our  feelings  flowed, 

Eeceiving,  willingly  or  not,  fresh  strength 

From  kindred  sources  ;  while  around  us  sighed 

(Life's  three  first  seasons  having  passed  away) 

Leaf -scattering  winds ;  and  hoar-frost  sprinklings  fell 

(Foretaste  of  winter)  on  the  moorland  heights ; 

And  every  day  brought  with  it  tidings  new 

Of  rash  change,  ominous  for  the  public  weal. 

Hence,  if  dejection  has 2  too  oft  encroached 

Upon  that  sweet  and  tender  melancholy 

Which  may  itself  be  cherished  and  caressed 

More  than  enough ;  a  fault  so  natural 

(Even  with  the  young,  the  hopeful,  or  the  gay) 

For  prompt  forgiveness  will  not  sue  in  vain. 

1  1837. 

Nor  will  the  Muse  condemn,  or  treat  with  scorn 

Our 1835. 

2  issr. 

have         .         .         .  1835. 

*  Compare  Processions  in  the  Vale  ofChamouny,  Vol.  VI.  p.  270.— ED. 


THE  HIGHLAND  BROACH.  299 

XXVII. 

THE  HIGHLAND  BKOACH. 

[On  ascending  a  hill  that  leads  from  Loch  Awe  towards  Inverary, 
I  fell  into  conversation  with  a  woman  of  the  humbler  class  who  wore 
one  of  those  Highland  Broaches.  I  talked  with  her  about  it ;  and 
upon  parting  with  her,  when  I  said  with  a  kindness  I  truly  felt — 
"  May  that  Broach  continue  in  your  family  through  many  generations 
to  come,  as  you  have  already  possessed  it" — she  thanked  me  most 
becomingly  and  seemed  not  a  little  moved.] 

The  exact  resemblance  which  the  old  Broach  (still  in  use,  though 
rarely  met  with,  among  the  Highlanders)  bears  to  the  Eoman  Fibula 
must  strike  every  one,  and  concurs,  with  the  plaid  and  kilt,  to  recal 
to  mind  the  communication  which  the  ancient  Romans  had  with  this 
remote  country. 

IF  to  Tradition  faith  be  due, 
And  echoes  from  old  verse  speak  true, 
Ere  the  meek  Saint,  Columba,  bore 
Glad  tidings  to  lona's  shore, 
No  common  light  of  nature  blessed 
The  mountain  region  of  the  west ; 
A  land  where  gentle  manners  ruled 
O'er  men  in  dauntless  virtues  schooled, 
That  raised,  for  centuries,  a  bar 
Impervious  to  the  tide  of  war : 
Yet  peaceful  Arts  did  entrance  gain 
Where  haughty  Force  had  striven  in  vain ; 
And,  'mid  the  works  of  skilful  hands, 
By  wanderers  brought  from  foreign  lands 
And  various  climes,  was  not  unknown 
The  clasp  that  fixed  the  Eoman  Gown ; 
The  Fibula,  whose  shape,  I  ween, 
Still  in  the  Highland  Broach  is  seen, 
The  silver  Broach  of  massy  frame, 
Worn  at  the  breast  of  some  grave  Dame 


300  THE  HIGHLAND  BROACH. 

On  road  or  path,  or  at  the  door 
Of  fern-thatched  hut  on  heathy  moor : 
But  delicate  of  yore  its  mould, 
And  the  material  finest  gold ; 
As  might  beseem  the  fairest  Fair, 
Whether  she  graced  a  royal  chair, 
Or  shed,  within  a  vaulted  hall, 
No  fancied  lustre  on  the  wall 
Where  shields  of  mighty  heroes  hung, 
While  Fingal  heard  what  Ossian  sung. 

The  heroic  Age  expired — it  slept 
Deep  in  its  tomb  : — the  bramble  crept 
O'er  Fingal's  hearth  ;  the  grassy  sod 
Grew  on  the  floors  his  soul  had  trod  : 
Malvina  !  where  art  thou  ?     Their  state 
The  noblest-born  must  abdicate  ; 
The  fairest,  while  with  fire  and  sword 
Come  Spoilers — horde  impelling  horde, 
Must  walk  the  sorrowing  mountains,  drest 
By  ruder  hands  in  homelier  vest. 
Yet  still  the  female  bosom  lent, 
And  loved  to  borrow,  ornament ; 
Still  was  its  inner  world  a  place 
Beached  by  the  dews  of  heavenly  grace ; 
Still  pity  to  this  last  retreat 
Clove  fondly;  to  his  favourite  seat 
Love  wound  his  way  by  soft  approach, 
Beneath  a  rnassier  Highland  Broach. 

When  alternations  came  of  rage 

Yet  fiercer,  in  a  darker  age ; 

And  feuds,  where,  clan  encountering  clan, 

The  weaker  perished  to  a  man ; 


THE  HIGHLAND  BROACH.  301 

For  inaid  and  mother,  when  despair 
Might  else  have  triumphed,  baffling  prayer, 
One  small  possession  lacked  not  power, 
Provided  in  a  calmer  hour, 
To  meet  such  need  as  might  befal — 
Eoof,  raiment,  bread,  or  burial : 
For  women,  even  of  tears  bereft, 
The  hidden  silver  Broach  was  left. 

As  generations  come  and  go 
Their  arts,  their  customs,  ebb  and  flow  ; 
Fate,  fortune,  sweep  strong  powers  away, 
And  feeble,  of  themselves,  decay  ; 
What  poor  abodes  the  heir-loom  hide, 
In  which  the  castle  once  took  pride ! 
Tokens,  once  kept  as  boasted  wealth, 
If  saved  at  all,  are  saved  by  stealth. 
Lo !  ships,  from  seas  by  nature  barred, 
Mount  along  ways  by  man  prepared ; 
And  in  far-stretching  vales,  whose  streams 
Seek  other  seas,  their  canvas  gleams. 

Lo  !  busy  towns  spring  up,  on  coasts 
Thronged  yesterday  by  airy  ghosts ; 
Soon,  like  a  lingering  star  forlorn 
Among  the  novelties  of  morn, 
While  young  delights  on  old  encroach, 
Will  vanish  the  last  Highland  Broach. 

But  when,  from  out  their  viewless  bed, 
Like  vapours,  years  have  rolled  and  spread , 
And  this  poor  verse,  and  worthier  lays, 
Shall  yield  no  light  of  love  or  praise ; 


DEVOTIONAL  INCITEMENTS. 


Then,  by  the  spade,  or  cleaving 

Or  torrent  from  the  mountain's  brow, 

Or  whirlwind,  reckless  what  his  might 

Kntombs,  or  forces  into  light  ; 

Blind  Chance,  a  volunteer  ally, 

That  oft  befriends  Antiquity, 

And  clears  Oblivion  from  reproach, 

May  render  back  the  Highland  Broach.* 


1832. 

The  Poems  written  in  1832  were  few.     They  include 
Incitement*,  an  Evening  Voluntary,  Rural  Illiuumt,  and  three  & 


DEVOTIONAL  INCITEMENTS. 

Comp.  1832.    Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Bydal  Mount] 

'Not  to  the  earth  confined, 
Ascend  to  heaven.' 

WHERE  will  they  stop,  those  breathing  Powers, 

The  Spirits  of  the  new-born  flowers  ? 

They  wander  with  the  breeze,  they  wind 

Where'er  the  streams  a  passage  find ; 

Up  from  their  native  ground  they  rise 

In  mute  aerial  harmonies ; 

From  humble  violet — modest  thyme — 

Exhaled,  the  essential  odours  climb, 

*  How  much  the  Broach  is  sometimes  prized  by  persons  in  humble 
stations  may  be  gathered  from  an  occurrence  mentioned  to  me  by  a  female 
friend.  She  had  had  an  opportunity  of  benefiting  a  poor  old  woman  in  her 
own  hut,  who,  wishing  to  make  a  return,  said  to  her  daughter,  in  Erse,  in  a 
tone  of  plaintive  earnestness,  "  I  would  give  anything  I  have,  but  I  Ao/>e 
she  does  not  wish  for  my  Broach  !"  and,  uttering  these  words,  she  put  her 
hand  upon  the  Broach  which  fastened  her  kerchief,  and  which,  she  hi;; 
had  attracted  the  eye  of  her  benefactress.— W.  W.,  1835. 


DEVOTIONAL  INCITEMK:  303 

As  if  no  space  below  the  sky 

Their  subtle  flight  could  satisfy : 

Heaven  will  not  tax  our  thoughts  with  pride 

If  like  ambition  be  their  guide. 

Roused  by  this  kindliest  of  May-showers, 
The  spirit- quickerier  of  the  flowers, 
That  with  moist  virtue  softly  cleaves 
The  buds,  and  freshens  the  young  leaves, 
The  birds  pour  forth  their  souls  in  notes 
Of  rapture  from  a  thousand  throats — 
Here  checked  by  too  impetuous  haste, 
While  there  the  music  runs  to  waste, 
With  bounty  more  and  more  enlarged, 
Till  the  whole  air  is  overcharged ; 
Give  ear,  0  Man  !  to  their  appeal 
And  thirst  for  no  inferior  zeal, 
Thou,  who  canst  think,  as  well  as  feel. 

Mount  from  the  earth ;  aspire  !  aspire  ! 
So  pleads  the  town's  cathedral  quire, 
In  strains  that  from  their  solemn  height 
Sink,  to  attain  a  loftier  flight ; 
While  incense  from  the  altar  breathes 
Rich  fragrance  in  embodied  wreaths ; 
Or,  flung  from  swinging  censer,  shrouds 
The  taper-lights,  and  curls  in  clouds 
Around  angelic  Forms,  the  still 
Creation  of  the  painter's  skill, 
That  on  the  service  wait  concealed 
One  moment,  and  the  next  revealed 
— Cast  off  your  bonds,  awake,  arise, 
And  for  no  transient  ecstasies ! 


304  DEVOTIONAL  INCITEMENTS. 

"What  else  can  mean  the  visual  plea 
Of  still  or  moving  imagery — 
The  iterated  summons  loud, 
Not  wasted  on  the  attendant  crowd, 
Nor  wholly  lost  upon  the  throng 
Hurrying  the  busy  streets  along  ? 

Alas  !  the  sanctities  combined 
By  art  to  unsensualise  the  mind 
Decay  and  languish ;  or,  as  creeds 
And  humours  change,  are  spurned  like  weeds : 
The  priests  are  from  their  altars  thrust ; 
Temples  are  levelled  with  the  dust ; 
And  solemn  rites  and  awful  forms 
Founder  amid  fanatic  storms.1 
Yet  evermore,  through  years  renewed 
In  undisturbed  vicissitude 
Of  seasons  balancing  their  flight 
On  the  swift  wings  of  day  and  night, 
Kind  Nature  keeps  a  heavenly  door 
Wide  open  for  the  scattered  Poor. 
Where  flower-breathed  incense  to  the  skies 
Is  wafted  in  mute  harmonies ; 
And  ground  fresh-cloven  by  the  plough 
Is  fragrant  with  a  humbler  vow ; 
Where  birds  and  brooks  from  leafy  dells 
Chime  forth  unwearied  canticles, 
And  vapours  magnify  and  spread 
The  glory  of  the  sun's  bright  head — 

1S36. 

The  solemn  rites,  the  awful  forms, 

Founder  amid  fanatic  storms  ; 

The  priests  are  from  their  altars  thrust, 

The  temples  levelled  with  the  dust :  1835. 


CALM  IS  THE  FRAGRANT  AIR,  AND  LOTH  TO  LOSE.    305 

Still  constant  in  her  worship,  still 
Conforming  to  the  eternal  Will,1 
Whether  men  sow  or  reap  the  fields, 
Divine  monition 2  Nature  yields, 
That  not  by  bread  alone  we  live, 
Or  what  a  hand  of  flesh  can  give ; 
That  every  day  should  leave  some  part 
Free  for  a  sabbath  of  the  heart : 
So  shall  the  seventh  be  truly  blest, 
From  morn  to  eve,  with  hallowed  rest. 


Comp.  1832.     Pub.  1835. 

CALM  is  the  fragrant  air,  and  loth  to  lose 

Day's  grateful  warmth,  tho'  moist  with  falling  dews. 

Look  for  the  stars,  you'll  say  that  there  are  none ; 

Look  up  a  second  time,  and,  one  by  one, 

You  mark  them  twinkling  out  with  silvery  light, 

And  wonder  how  they  could  elude  the  sight ! 

The  birds,  of  late  so  noisy  in  their  bowers, 

Warbled  a  while  with  faint  and  fainter  powers, 

But  now  are  silent  as  the  dim-seen  flowers : 

Nor  does  the  village  Church-clock's  iron  tone 

The  time's  and  season's  influence  disown  : 

Mne  beats  distinctly  to  each  other  bound 

In  drowsy  sequence — how  unlike  the  sound 

That,  in  rough  winter,  oft  inflicts  a  fear 

On  fireside  listeners,  doubting  what  they  hear ! 

1836. 

.         .        .        .        .        almighty  Will,  1835. 

1845. 

Her  admonitions  Nature  yields  ;  1835. 

Divine  admonishment  she  yields,  1836. 

VII.  U 


306  RURAL  ILLUSIONS. 

The  shepherd,  bent  on  rising  with  the  sun, 
Had  closed  his  door  before  the  day  was  done. 
And  now  with  thankful  heart  to  bed  doth  creep, 
And  joins1  his  little  children  in  their  sleep. 
The  bat,  lured  forth  where  trees  the  lane  o'ershade, 
Flits  and  reflits  along  the  close  arcade ; 
The  busy2  dor-hawk  chases  the  white  moth 
With  burring  note,  which  Industry  and  Sloth 
Might  both  be  pleased  with,  for  it  suits  them  both. 
A  stream  is  heard — I  see  it  not,  but  know 
By  its  soft  music  whence  the  waters  flow : 
Wheels3  and  the  tread  of  hoofs  are  heard  no  more ; 
One  boat  there  was,  but  it  will  touch  the  shore 
With  the  next  dipping  of  its  slackened  oar ; 
Faint  sound,  that,  for  the  gayest  of  the  gay, 
Might  give  to  serious  thought  a  moment's  sway, 
As  a  last  token  of  man's  toilsome  day ! 


EUEAL  ILLUSIONS. 

Comp.  1832.     Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Rydal    Mount.      Observed  a  hundred  times   in  the 
grounds  there.] 

SYLPH  was  it  ?  or  a  Bird  more  bright 

Than  those  of  fabulous  stock  ? 
A  second  darted  by ; — and  lo  ! 

Another  of  the  flock, 
Through  sunshine  flitting  from  the  bough 

To  nestle  in  the  rock. 

1  1837. 

And  join  1835. 

2  1837. 

Far-heard  the 

"  1837. 

both. 

Wheels 


RURAL  ILLUSIONS.  30 7 

Transient  deception  !  a  gay  freak 

Of  April's  mimicries ! 
Those  brilliant  strangers,  hailed  with  joy 

Among  the  budding  trees, 
Proved  last  year's  leaves,  pushed  from  the  spray 

To  frolic  on  the  breeze. 

Maternal  Flora  !  show  thy  face, 

And  let  thy  hand  be  seen, 
Thy  hand  here  sprinkling  tiny  flowers,1 

That,  as  they  touch  the  green, 
Take  root  (so  seems  it)  and  look  up 

In  honour  of  their  Queen. 
Yet,  sooth,  those  little  starry  specks, 

That  not  in  vain  aspired 
To  be  confounded  with  live  growths, 

Most  dainty,  most  admired, 
"Were  only  blossoms  dropped  from  twigs 

Of  their  own  offspring  tired. 

Not  such  the  World's  illusive  shows ; 

Her  wingless  flutterings, 
Her  blossoms  which,  though  shed,  outbrave 

The  floweret  as  it  springs, 
For  the  undeceived,  smile  as  they  may, 

Are  melancholy  things : 
But  gentle  Nature  plays  her  part 

With  ever- varying  wiles, 
And  transient  feignings  with  plain  truth 

So  well  she  reconciles, 
That  those  fond  Idlers  most  are  pleased 

Whom  oftenest  she  beguiles. 

IS'56. 

Which  sprinkles  here  these  tiny  flowers,  iss-i. 


308  LOVING  AND  LIKING. 


LOVING  AND  LIKING. 

IRREGULAR   VERSES, 

ADDRESSED   TO   A   CHILD. 

(BY   MY  SISTER.)  1 

Comp.  1832. Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Kydal   Mount.     It  arose,  I  believe,  out  of  a  casual 
expression  of  one  of  Mr  Swinburne's  children.] 

THERE'S  more  in  words  than  I  can  teacli : 
Yet  listen,  Child  ! — I  would  not  preach  ; 
But  only  give  some  plain  directions 
To  guide  your  speech  and  your  affections. 
Say  not  you  love  a  roasted  fowl, 
But  you  may  love  a  screaming  owl, 
And,  if  you  can,  the  unwieldy  toad 
That  crawls  from  his  secure  abode 
Within  the  mossy  garden  wall 
When  evening  dews  begin  to  fall. 
Oh  mark  the  beauty  of  his  eye : 
What  wonders  in  that  circle  lie ! 
So  clear,  so  bright,  our  fathers  said 
He  wears  a  jewel  in  his  head  ! 
And  when,  upon  some  showery  day, 
Into  a  path  or  public  way 
A  frog  leaps  out  from  bordering  grass, 
Startling  the  timid  as  they  pass, 
Do  you  observe  him,  and  endeavour 
To  take  the  intruder  into  favour ; 

1  1845. 

In  the  former  editions  of  the  Author's  Miscellaneous 
Poems  are  three  pieces  addressed  to  children  : — the 
following,  a  few  lines  excepted,  is  by  the  same  Writer  ; 
and,  as  it  belongs  to  the  same  unassuming  class  of 
compositions,  she  has  been  prevailed  upon  to  consent 
to  its  publication.  1835. 

By  the  author  of  the  Poem,  "Address  to  a  child, 
during  a  boisterous  winter  evening."  1836. 


LOVING  AND  LIKING.  309 

Learning  from  him  to  find  a  reason 
For  a  light  heart  in  a  dull  season. 
And  you  may  love  him  in  the  pool, 
That  is  for  him  a  happy  school, 
In  which  he  swims  as  taught  by  nature, 
Fit1  pattern  for  a  human  creature, 
Glancing  amid  the  water  bright, 
And  sending  upward  sparkling  light. 

Nor  blush  if  o'er  your  heart  be  stealing 
A  love  for  things  that  have  no  feeling : 
The  spring's  first  rose  by  you  espied 
May  fill  your  breast  with  joyful  pride ; 
And  you  may  love  the  strawberry-flower, 
And  love  the  strawberry  in  its  bower ; 
But  when  the  fruit,  so  often  praised 
For  beauty,  to  your  lip  is  raised, 
Say  not  you  love  the  delicate  treat, 
But  like  it,  enjoy  it,  and  thankfully  eat. 

Long  may  you  love  your  pensioner  mouse, 
Though  one  of  a  tribe  that  torment  the  house. 
Xor  dislike  for  her  cruel  sport  the  cat, 
Deadly  foe  both  of2  mouse  and  rat ; 
Remember  she  follows  the  law  of  her  kind, 
And  Instinct  is  neither  wayward  nor  blind. 
Then  think  of  her  beautiful  gliding  form, 
Her  tread  that  would  scarcely3  crush  a  worm 

1845. 

A 1835. 

!  1845. 

That  deadly  foe  of  both        .  .        •  1835- 

That  deadly  foe  both  of  1836- 

*  1836. 

not  .        •  1s35- 


310        UPON  THE  LATE  GENERAL  FAST. 

And  her  soothing  song  by  the  winter  fire, 
Soft  as  the  dying  throb  of  the  lyre. 

I  would  not  circumscribe  your  love : 
It  may  soar  with  the  eagle  and  brood  with  the  dove, 
May  pierce  the  earth  with  the  patient  mole, 
Or  track  the  hedgehog  to  his  hole. 
Loving  and  liking  are  the  solace  of  life, 
Eock  the  cradle  of  joy,  smooth  the  death-bed  of  strife.1 
You  love  your  father  and  your  mother, 
Your  grown-up  and  your  baby-brother ; 
You  love  your  sister,  and  your  friends, 
And  countless  blessings  which  God  sends : 
And  while  these  right  affections  play, 
You  live  each  moment  of  your  day ; 
They  lead  you  on  to  full  content, 
And  likings  fresh  and  innocent, 
That  store  the  mind,  the  memory  feed, 
And  prompt  to  many  a  gentle  deed : 
But  likings  come,  and  pass  away ; 
'Tis  love  that  remains  till  our  latest  day : 
Our  heavenward  guide  is  holy  love, 
And  will2  be  our  bliss  with  saints  above. 


UPON  THE  LATE  GENERAL  FAST. 

MARCH,  1832. 

Comp.  1832.     Pub.  1832. 

EELUCTANT  call  it  was ;  the  rite  delayed  ; 
And  in  the  Senate  some  there  were  who  doffed 

1843. 

They  foster  all  joy,  and  extinguish  all  strife.  1835. 

1848. 

And  it  will  1535. 


FILIAL  PIETY.  311 

The  last  of  their  humanity,  and  scoffed 

At  providential  judgments,1  undismayed 

By  their  own  daring.     But  the  People  prayed 

As  with  once  voice ;  their  flinty  heart  grew  soft 

With  penitential  sorrow,  and  aloft 

Their  spirit  mounted,  crying,  "  God  us  aid  ! 

Oh  that  with  aspirations  more  intense, 

Chastised  by  self-abasement  more  profound, 

This  People,  once2  so  happy,  so  renowned 

For  liberty,  would  seek  from  God  defence 

Against  far  heavier  ill,  the  pestilence* 

Of  revolution,  impiously  unbound  ! 


FILIAL  PIETY. 

(ON  THE  WAYSIDE  BETWEEN   PRESTON  AND   LIVERPOOL.) 

Comp.  1832.     Pub.  1832. 

[This  was  also  communicated  to  me  by  a  coachman  in  the  same  way 
In  the  course  of  my  many  coach  rambles  and  journeys,  which,  during 
the  day-time  always,  and  often  in  the  night,  were  taken  on  the  outside 
of  the  coach,  I  had  good  and  frequent  opportunities  of  learning  the 
characteristics  of  this  class  of  men.  One  remark  I  made  that  is  worth 
recording ;  that  whenever  I  had  occasion  especially  to  notice  their 
well-ordered,  respectful  and  kind  behaviour  to  women,  of  whatever  age, 
I  found  them,  I  may  say  almost  always,  to  be  married  men.] 

UNTOUCHED  through  all  severity  of  cold ; 
Inviolate,  whate'er  the  cottage  hearth 
Might  need  for  comfort,  or  for  festal  mirth ; 
That  Pile  of  Turf  is  half  a  century  old : 

1  1843. 

judgment,        .        .  1832. 

2  1837. 

Oh  that  with  soul-aspirings  more  intense 

And  heart-humiliations  more  profound 

This  People,  long 1832. 

*  The  fast  was  appointed  because  of  an  outbreak  of  cholera  in  England. 
—ED. 


312  TO  B.  R.  HAYDON. 

Yes,  Traveller !  fifty  winters  have  been  told 

Since  suddenly  the  dart  of  death  went  forth 

'Gainst  him  who  raised  it, — his  last  work  on  earth : 

Thence  has  it,  with  the  Son,  so  strong  a  hold 

Upon  his  Father's  memory,  that  his  hands, 

Through  reverence,  touch  it  only  to  repair1 

Its  waste. — Though  crumbling  with  each  breath  of  air, 

In  annual  renovation  thus  it  stands — 

Eude  Mausoleum  !  but  wrens  nestle  there, 

And  red-breasts  warble  when  sweet  sounds  are  rare. 


TO  B.  E.  HAYDON,  ON  SEEING  HIS  PICTUEE  OF 
NAPOLEON  BUONAPAETE  ON  THE  ISLAND  OF 
ST  HELENA. 

Comp.  1832.     Pub.  1832. 

[This  Sonnet,  though  said  to  be  written  on  seeing  the  Portrait  of 
Napoleon,  was,  in  fact,  composed  some  time  after,  extempore,  in  the 
wood  at  Eydal  Mount.] 

HAYDON  !  let  worthier  judges  praise  the  skill 
Here  by  thy  pencil  shown  in  truth  of  lines 
And  charm  of  colours ;  /  applaud  those  signs 
Of  thought,  that  give  the  true  poetic  thrill ; 
That  unencumbered  whole  of  blank  and  still 
Sky  without  cloud — ocean  without  a  wave ; 
And  the  one  Man  that  laboured  to  enslave 
The  World,  sole-standing  high  on  the  bare  hill — 
Back  turned,  arms  folded,  the  unapparent  face 
Tinged,  we  may  fancy,  in  this  dreary  place 
With  light  reflected  from  the  invisible  sun 
Set,  like  his  fortunes ;  but  not  set  for  aye 

1  1837. 

Thence  by  his  Son  more  prized  than  aught  which  gold 
Could  purchase— watched,  preserved  by  his  own  hands, 
That,  faithful  to  the  structure,  still  repair,  1832. 


IF  THOU  INDEED  DERIVE  THY  LIGHT  FROM  HEAVEN.  313 

Like  them.     The  unguilty  Power  pursues  his  way, 
And  before  him  doth  dawn  perpetual  run.* 


Comp.          .     Pub.  1832. 

[These  verses  were  written  some  time  after  we  had  become  residents 
at  Rydal  Mount,  and  I  will  take  occasion  from  them  to  observe  upon 
the  beauty  of  that  situation,  as  being  backed  and  flanked  by  lofty  fells, 
which  bring  the  heavenly  bodies  to  touch,  as  it  were,  the  earth  upon 
the  mountain-tops,  while  the  prospect  in  front  lies  open  to  a  length  of 
level  valley,  the  extended  lake,  and  a  terminating  ridge  of  low  hills ; 
so  that  it  gives  an  opportunity  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  place  of  notic- 
ing the  stars  in  both  the  positions  here  alluded  to,  namely,  on  the  tops 
of  the  mountains,  and  as  winter-lamps  at  a  distance  among  the  leafless 
trees.] 

IF  thou  indeed  derive  thy  light  from  Heaven, 
Then,  to  the  measure  of  that  heaven-born  light, 

*  Haydon,  as  he  tells  us  in  his  Autobiography,  received  a  commission 
from  Sir  Robert  Peel,  in  Dec.  1830,  "  to  paint  Napoleon  musing,  the  size 
of  life."  He  finished  it  in  June  1831,  and  thus  described  it  himself  : — 

"  Napoleon  was  peculiarly  alive  to  poetical  association  as  produced  by 
scenery  or  sound ;  village  bells  with  their  echoing  ding,  dong,  dang,  now 
bursting  full  on  the  ear,  now  dying  in  the  wind,  affected  him  as  they 
affect  everybody  alive  to  natural  impressions,  and  on  the  eve  of  all 
his  great  battles  you  find  him  stealing  away  in  the  dead  of  the 
night,  between  the  two  hosts,  and  indulging  in  every  species  of  poetical 
reverie.  It  was  impossible  to  think  of  such  a  genius  in  captivity, 
without  mysterious  associations  of  the  sky,  the  sea,  the  rock,  and  the 
solitude  with  which  he  was  enveloped.  I  never  imagined  him  but  as 
if  musing  at  dawn,  or  melancholy  at  sunset,  listening  at  midnight  to 
the  beating  and  roaring  of  the  Atlantic,  or  meditating  as  the  stars 
gazed  and  the  moon  shone  on  him  ;  in  short  Napoleon*  never  appeared  to 
me  but  at  those  seasons  of  silence  and  twilight,  when  nature  seems  to 
sympathise  with  the  fallen,  and  when  if  there  be  moments  in  this  turbulent 
earth  fit  for  celestial  intercourse,  one  must  imagine  these  would  be  the 
times  immortal  spirits  might  select  to  descend  within  the  sphere  of 
mortality,  to  soothe  and  comfort,  to  inspire  and  support  the  afflicted. 

Under  such  impressions  the  present  picture  was  produced.  ...  I 
imagined  him  standing  on  the  brow  of  an  impending  cliff,  and  musing  on 
his  past  fortunes,  .  .  .  sea-birds  screaming  at  his  feet,  .  .  .  the  sun 
just  down,  .  .  .  the  sails  of  his  guard  ship  glittering  on  the  horizon,  and 
the  Atlantic,  calm,  silent,  awfully  deep,  and  endlessly  extensive."— Life  of 
Benjamin  fiobert  Haydon,  Vol.  II.,  pp.  301-2.— ED. 


314  IF  THOU  INDEED  DERIVE  THY  LIGHT  FROM  HEAVEN. 

Shine,  Poet  I1  in  thy  place,  and  be  content : — 

The  stars  pre-eminent  in  magnitude, 

And  they  that  from  the  zenith  dart  their  beams,2 

(Visible  though  they3  be  to  half  the  earth, 

Though  half  a  sphere  be  conscious  of  their  brightness) 

Are4  yet  of  no  diviner  origin, 

No  purer  essence,  than  the  one  that  burns, 

Like  an  untended  watch-fire  on  the  ridge 

Of  some  dark  mountain ;  or  than  those  which  seem 

Humbly  to  hang,  like  twinkling  winter  lamps, 

Among  the  branches  of  the  leafless  trees. 

All  are  the  undying  offspring  of  one  Sire  : 

Then,  to  the  measure  of  the  light  vouchsafed, 

Shine,  Poet !  in  thy  place,  and  be  content."* 

These  lines  were  first  published  in  1832  ;  and  they  found  a  place  in 
the  edition  of  that  year,  amongst  the  "Poems  of  Sentiment  and 
Reflection."  In  the  edition  of  1845  they  appeared  as  a  Preface  to  the 
entire  volume  of  Poems. — ED. 

1  1837. 

from  Heaven, 

Shine,  Poet, 1832. 

2  is37. 

The  Star  that  from  the  zenith  darts  its  beams,         1832. 

3  1837. 

it  ....  1832. 

1837. 

its  brightness, 
Is 1832. 

*  The  last  three  lines  were  added  in  1836.— ED. 


A  WREN'S  NEST.  315 


1833. 

The  most  important  of  the  poems  written  in  1833  were  the  Memorials 
of  the  Tour  undertaken  during  the  summer  of  that  year.  They  refer 
to  several  Cumbrian  localities,  to  the  Isle  of  Man,  to  the  Clyde,  the 
Western  Isles  of  Scotland,  and  again  to  Cumberland. 


A  WBEN'S  NEST. 

Comp.  1833.     Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Eydal  Mount.  This  nest  was  built,  as  described,  in  a 
tree  that  grows  near  the  pool  in  Dora's  field,  next  the  Eydal  Mount 
garden.*] 

AMONG  the  dwellings  framed  by  birds 

In  field  or  forest  with  nice  care, 
Is  none  that  with  the  little  Wren's 

In  snugness  may. compare. 

No  door  the  tenement  requires, 

And  seldom  needs  a  laboured  roof ; 

Yet  is  it  to  the  fiercest  sun 
Impervious,  and  storm-proof. 

So  warm,  so  beautiful  withal, 

In  perfect  fitness  for  its  aim, 
That  to  the  Kind  by  special  grace 

Their  instinct  surely  came. 

And  when  for  their  abodes  they  seek 

An  opportune  recess, 
The  hermit  has  no  finer  eye 

For  shadowy  quietness. 

*  Wrens  still  build  (1884)  in  the  same  pollard  oak  tree,  which  survives 
in  "  Dora's  Field  ; "  and  primroses  grow  beneath  it. — ED. 


316  A  WREN'S  NEST, 

These  find,  'mid  ivied  abbey-walls, 
A  canopy  in  some  still  nook  ; 

Others  are  pent-housed  by  a  brae 
That  overhangs  a  brook. 

There  to  the  brooding  bird  her  mate 
Warbles  by  fits  his  low  clear  song ; 

And  by  the  busy  streamlet  both 
Are  sung  to  all  day  long. 

Or  in  sequestered  lanes  they  build, 
Where,  till  the  flitting  bird's  return, 

Her  eggs  within  the  nest  repose, 
Like  relics  in  an  urn. 

But  still,  where  general  choice  is  good, 
There  is  a  better  and  a  best ; 

And,  among  fairest  objects,  some 
Are  fairer  than  the  rest ; 

This,  one  of  those  small  builders  proved 
In  a  green  covert,  where,  from  out 

The  forehead  of  a  pollard  oak, 
The  leafy  antlers  sprout ; 

For  She  who  planned  the  mossy  lodge, 
Mistrusting  her  evasive  skill, 

Had  to  a  Primrose  looked  for  aid 
Her  wishes  to  fulfil. 

High  on  the  trunk's  projecting  brow 
And  fixed  an  infant's  span  above 

The  budding  flowers,  peeped  forth  the  nest, 
The  prettiest  of  the  grove ! 


THE  WREN'S  NEST.  317 

The  treasure  proudly  did  I  show 

To  some  whose  minds  without  disdain 

Can  turn  to  little  things ;  but  once 
Looked  up  for  it  in  vain  : 

'Tis  gone — a  ruthless  spoiler's  prey, 
Who  heeds  not  beauty,  love,  or  song, 

Tis  gone !  (so  seemed  it)  and  we  grieved 
Indignant  at  the  wrong. 

Just  three  days  after,  passing  by 

In  clearer  light  the  moss-built  cell 
I  saw,  espied  its  shaded  mouth  ; 

And  felt  that  all  was  well. 

The  Primrose  for  a  veil  had  spread 

The  largest  of  her  upright  leaves  ; 
And  thus,  for  purposes  benign, 

A  simple  flower  deceives. 

Concealed  from  friends  who  might  disturb 

Thy  quiet  with  no  ill  intent, 
Secure  from  evil  eyes  and  hands 

On  barbarous  plunder  bent, 

Rest,  Mother-bird  !  and  when  thy  young 
Take  flight,  and  thou  art  free  to  roam, 

When  withered  is  the  guardian  Flower, 
And  empty  thy  late  home, 

Think  how  ye  prospered,  thou  and  thine, 

Amid  the  unviolated  grove 
Housed  near  the  growing  Primrose-tuft 

In  foresight,  or  in  love. 


318  TO . 

TO — 

UPON   THE   BIRTH   OF   HER  FIRST-BORN   CHILD,    MARCH,    1833. 

"  Turn  porro  puer,  ut  ssevis  projectus  ab  undis 
Navita,  nudus  humi  jacet,"  &c. 

— LUCRETIUS. 

Comp.  March  1833.     Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Moresby  near  Whitehaven,  when  I  was  on  a  visit  to  my 
son,  then  incumbent  of  that  small  living.  While  I  am  dictating  these 
notes  to  my  friend,  Miss  Fenwick,  January  24,  1843,  the  child  upon 
whose  birth  these  verses  were  written  is  under  my  roof,  and  is  of  a 
disposition  so  promising  that  the  wishes  and  prayers  and  prophecies 
which  I  then  breathed  forth  in  verse  are,  through  God's  mercy,  likely 
to  be  realised.] 

LIKE  a  shipwreck'd  Sailor  tost 
By  rough  waves  on  a  perilous  coast, 
Lies  the  Babe,  in  helplessness 
And  in  tenderest  nakedness, 
Flung  by  labouring  nature  forth 
Upon  the  mercies  of  the  earth. 
Can  its  eyes  beseech  ? — no  more 
Than  the  hands  are  free  to  implore : 
Voice  but  serves  for  one  brief  cry ; 
Plaint  was  it  ?  or  prophecy 
Of  sorrow  that  will  surely  come  ? 
Omen  of  man's  grievous  doom ! 

But,  0  Mother !  by  the  close 
Duly  granted  to  thy  throes ; 
By  the  silent  thanks,  now  tending 
Incense-like  to  Heaven,  descending 
Now  to  mingle  and  to  move 
With  the  gush  of  earthly  love, 
As  a  debt  to  that  frail  Creature, 
Instrument  of  struggling  Nature 


TO .  319 

For  the  blissful  calm,  the  peace 
Known  but  to  this  one  release — 
Can  the  pitying  spirit  doubt 
That  for  human-kind  springs  out 
From  the  penalty  a  sense 
Of  more  than  mortal  recompence  ? 

As  a  floating  summer  cloud, 
Though  of  gorgeous  drapery  proud, 
To  the  sun-burnt  traveller, 
Or  the  stooping  labourer, 
Oft-times  makes  its  bounty  known 
By  its  shadow  round  him  thrown ; 
So,  by  chequerings  of  sad  cheer, 
Heavenly  Guardians,  brooding  near, 
Of  their  presence  tell — too  bright 
Haply  for  corporeal  sight ! 
Ministers  of  grace  divine 
Feelingly  their  brows  incline 
O'er  this  seeming  Castaway 
Breathing,  in  the  light  of  day, 
Something  like  the  faintest  breath 
That  has  power  to  baffle  death- 
Beautiful,  while  very  weakness 
Captivates  like  passive  meekness. 

And,  sweet  Mother  !  under  warrant 
Of  the  universal  Parent, 
Who  repays  in  season  due 
Them  who  have,  like  thee,  been  true 
To  the  filial  chain  let  down 
From  his  everlasting  throne, 


320  TO 


Angels  hovering  round  thy  couch, 
With  their  softest  whispers  vouch, 
That — whatever  griefs  may  fret, 
Cares  entangle,  sins  beset, 
This  thy  First-born,  and  with  tears 
Stain  her  cheek  in  future  years — 
Heavenly  succour,  not  denied 
To  the  babe,  whate'er  betide, 
Will  to  the  woman  be  supplied  ! 

Mother  !  blest  be  thy  calm  ease ; 
Blest  the  starry  promises, — 
And  the  firmament  benign 
Hallowed  be  it,  where  they  shine  ! 
Yes,  for  them  whose  souls  have  scope 
Ample  for  a  winged  hope, 
And  can  earthward  bend  an  ear 
For  needful  listening,  pledge  is  here, 
That,  if  thy  new-born  Charge  shall  tread 
In  thy  footsteps,  and  be  led 
By  that  other  Guide,  whose  light 
Of  manly  virtues,  mildly  bright, 
Gave  him  first  the  wished-for  part 
In  thy  gentle  virgin  heart ; 
Then,  amid  the  storms  of  life 
Presignified  by  that  dread  strife 
Whence  ye  have  escaped  together, 
She  may  look  for  serene  weather ; 
In  all  trials  sure  to  find 
Comfort  for  a  faithful  mind ; 
Kindlier  issues,  holier  rest, 
Than  even  now  await  her  prest, 
Conscious  Nursling,  to  thy  breast ! 


THE  WARNING.  321 


THE  WAKNING. 

A  SEQUEL   TO   THE  FOREGOING. 

Comp.  March  1833.     Pub.  1835. 

[These  lines  were  composed  during  the  fever  spread  through  the 
nation  by  the  Reform  Bill.  As  the  motives  which  led  to  this  measure, 
and  the  good  or  evil  which  has  attended  or  has  risen  from  it,  will  be 
duty  appreciated  by  future  historians,  there  is  no  call  for  dwelling  on 
the  subject  in  this  place.  I  will  content  myself  with  saying  that  the 
then  condition  of  the  people's  mind  is  not,  in  these  verses,  exaggerated.] 

LIST,  the  winds  of  March  are  blowing ; 

Her  ground-flowers  shrink,  afraid  of  showing 

Their  meek  heads  to  the  nipping  air, 

Which  ye  feel  not,  happy  pair  ! 

Sunk  into  a  kindly  sleep. 

We,  meanwhile,  our  hope  will  keep ; 

And  if  Time  leagued  with  adverse  Change 

(Too  busy  fear !)  shall  cross  its  range, 

Whatsoever  check  they  bring, 

Anxious  duty  hindering, 

To  like  hope  our  prayers  will  cling. 

Thus,  while  the  ruminating  spirit  feeds 
Upon  the  events  of  home1  as  life  proceeds, 
Affections  pure  and  holy  in  their  source 
Gain  a  fresh  impulse,  run  a  livelier  course ; 
Hopes  that  within  the  father's  heart  prevail, 
Are  in  the  experienced  Grandsire's  slow  to  fail ; 
And  if  the  harp  pleased  his  gay  youth,  it  rings 
To  his  grave  touch  with  no  unready  strings, 
While  thoughts  press  on,  and  feelings  overflow, 
And  quick  words  round  him  fall  like  flakes  of  snow. 

1  1337. 

Upon  each  home-event      ....  1835. 

VII.  X 


322  THE  WARNING. 

Thanks  to  the  Powers  that  yet  maintain  their  sway, 
And  have  renewed  the  tributary  Lay. 
Truths  of  the  heart  flock  in  with  eager  pace, 
And  FANCY  greets  them  with  a  fond  embrace ; 
Swift  as  the  rising  sun  his  beams  extends 
She  shoots  the  tidings  forth  to  distant  friends ; 
Their  gifts  she  hails  (deemed  precious,  as  they  prove 
For  the  unconscious  Babe  so  prompt  a  love  !) — 1 
But  from  this  peaceful  centre  of  delight 
Vague  sympathies  have  urged  her  to  take  flight : 
Eapt2  into  upper  regions,  like  the  bee 
That  sucks  from  mountain  heath  her  honey  fee ; 
Or,  like  the  warbling  lark  intent  to  shroud 
His  head  in  sunbeams  or  a  bowery  cloud, 
She  soars — and  here  and  there  her  pinions  rest 
On  proud  towers,  like  this  humble  cottage,  blest 
With  a  new  visitant,  an  infant  guest — 
Towers  where  red  streamers  flout  the  breezy  sky 
In  pomp  foreseen  by  her  creative  eye, 
When  feasts  shall  crowd  the  hall,  and  steeple  bells 
Glad  proclamation  make,  and  heights  and  dells 
Catch  the  blithe  music  as  it  sinks  and  swells,3 
And  harboured  ships,  whose  pride  is  on  the  sea, 
Shall  hoist  their  topmost  flags  in  sign  of  glee, 
Honouring  the  hope  of  noble  ancestry. 


1843. 

Babe  an  unbelated  love  !)  1835. 

1837. 

flight. 

She  rivals  the  fleet  Swallow,  making  rings 

In  the  smooth  lake  where'er  he  dips  his  wings  : 

— Eapt 1S35. 

1837. 

or  swells ;  1835. 


THE  WARNING.  323 

But  who  (though  neither  reckoning  ills  assigned 
By  Nature,  nor  reviewing  in  the  mind 
The  track  that  was,  and  is,  and  must  be,  worn 
With  weary  feet  by  all  of  woman  born) — 
Shall  now  by  such  a  gift  with  joy  be  moved, 
Nor  feel  the  fulness  of  that  joy  reproved  ? 
Not  He,  whose  last  faint  memory  will  command 
The  truth  that  Britain  was  his  native  land  ;* 
Whose  infant  soul  was  tutored  to  confide 
In  the  cleansed  faith  for  which  her  martyrs  died ; 
Whose  boyish  ear  the  voice  of  her  renown 
With  rapture  thrilled ;  whose  Youth  revered  the  crown 
Of  Saxon  liberty  that  Alfred  wore,t 
Alfred,  dear  Babe,  thy  great  Progenitor  ! 
— Not  He,  who  from  her  mellowed  practice  drew 
His  social  sense  of  just,  and  fair,  and  true ; 
And  saw,  thereafter,  on  the  soil  of  France 
Eash  Polity  begin  her  maniac  dance,  % 
Foundations  broken  up,  the  deeps  run  wild, 
Nor  grieved  to  see  (himself  not  unbeguiled) — 
Woke  from  the  dream,  the  dreamer  to  upbraid, 
And  learn  how  sanguine  expectations  fade 
When  novel  trusts  by  folly  are  betrayed, — 
To  see  Presumption,  turning  pale,  refrain 
From  further  havoc,  but  repent  in  vain, — 
Good  aims  lie  down,  and  perish  in  the  road 
Where  guilt  had  urged  them  on  with  ceaseless  goad, 
Proofs  thickening  round  her  that  on  public  ends 
Domestic  virtue  vitally  depends, 


*  Compare  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  Canto  vi.,  1.  1-3.— ED. 
t  Compare  Ecclesiastical  Sonnets,  Part  I,,  xxvi.,  xxvii. — ED, 
£  At  the  Revolution,  1792,—  ED. 


324  THE  WARNING. 

That  civic  strife  can  turn  the  happiest  hearth 
Into  a  grievous  sore  of  self-tormenting  earth.1 

Can  such  a  one,  dear  Babe !  though  glad  and  proud 
To  welcome  thee,  repel  the  fears  that  crowd 
Into  his  English  breast,  and  spare  to  quake 
Less  for  his  own  than  2  for  thy  innocent  sake  ? 
Too  late — or,  should  the  Providence  of  God 
Lead,  through  dark  3  ways  by  sin  and  sorrow  trod, 
Justice  and  peace  to  a  secure  abode, 
Too  soon — thou  com'st  into  this  breathing  world  ; 
Ensigns  of  mimic  outrage  are  unfurled. 
Who  shall  preserve  or  prop  the  tottering  Eealm  ? 
What  hand  suffice  to  govern  the  state-helm  ? 
If,  in  the  aims  of  men,  the  surest  test 
Of  good  or  bad  (whatever  be  sought  for  or  profest) 
Lie  in  the  means  required,  or  ways  ordained, 
For  compassing  the  end,  else  never  gained  ; 
Yet  governors  and  govern'd  both  are  blind 
To  this  plain  truth,  or  fling  it  to  the  wind ; 
If  to  expedience  principle  must  bow ; 
Past,  future,  shrinking  up  beneath  the  incumbent  ISTow ; 
If  cowardly  concession  still  must  feed 
The  thirst  for  power  in  men  who  ne'er  concede  ; 
Nor  turn  aside,  unless  to  shape  a  way 
For  domination  at  some  riper  day ; 

1  1843. 

Till  undiscriminating  Kuin  swept 

The  Land,  and  Wrong  perpetual  vigils  kept ; 

With  proof  before  her  that  on  public  ends 

Domestic  virtue  vitally  depends.  1835. 

2  1843. 

Not  for  his  own,  but        ....  1835. 

3  1843. 

blind  1835. 


THE  WARNING.  325 

If  l  generous  Loyalty  must  stand  in  awe 

Of  subtle  Treason,  in  2  his  mask  of  law, 

Or  with  bravado  insolent  and  hard, 

Provoking  punishment,  to  win  reward ; 

If  office  help  the  factious  to  conspire, 

And  they  who  should  extinguish,  fan  the  fire — 

Then,  will  the  sceptre  be  a  straw,  the  crown 

Sit  loosely,  like  the  thistle's  crest  of  down  ; 

To  be  blown  off  at  will,  by  Power  that  spares  it 

In  cunning  patience,  from  the  head  that  wears  it. 

Lost  people,  trained  to  theoretic  feud  ! 
Lost  above  all,  ye  labouring  multitude  i 
Bewildered  whether  ye,  by  slanderous  tongues 
Deceived,  mistake  calamities  for  wrongs ; 
And  over  fancied  usurpations  brood, 
Oft  snapping  at  revenge  in  sullen  mood ; 
Or,  from  long  stress  of  real  injuries  fly 
To  desperation  for  a  remedy  ; 
In  bursts  of  outrage  spread  your  judgments  wide, 
And  to  your  wrath  cry  out,  "  Be  thou  our  guide ;  " 
Or,  bound  by  oaths,  come  forth  to  tread  earth's  floor 
In  marshalled  thousands,  darkening  street  and  moor 
With  the  worst  shape  mock-patience  ever  wore ; 
Or,  to  the  giddy  top  of  self-esteem 
By  Flatterers  carried,  mount  into  a  dream 
Of  boundless  suffrage,  at  whose  sage  behest 
Justice  shall  rule,  disorder  be  supprest, 
And  every  man  sit  down  as  Plenty's  Guest ! 

1  183T. 

concede ; 

If 1835. 

a  1837. 

,  with       ....  1335. 


326  THE  WARNING. 

— 0  for  a  bridle  bitted  with  remorse 

To  stop  your  Leaders  in  their  headstrong  course  !  * 

Oh  may  the  Almighty  scatter  with  his  grace 

These  mists,  and  lead  you  to  a  safer  place, 

By  paths  no  human  wisdom  can  foretrace  ! 

May  He  pour  round  you,  from  worlds  far  above 

Man's  feverish  passions,  his  pure  light  of  love, 

That  quietly  restores  the  natural  mien 

To  hope,  and  makes  truth  willing  to  be  seen ! 

Else  shall  your  blood-stained  hands  in  frenzy  reap 

Fields  gaily  sown  when  promises  were  cheap. — 

Why  is  the  Past  belied  with  wicked  art, 

The  Future  made  to  play  so  false  a  part, 

Among  a  people  famed  for  strength  of  mind, 

Foremost  in  freedom,  noblest  of  mankind  ? 

We  act  as  if  we  joyed  in  the  sad  tune 

Storms  make  in  rising,  valued  in  the  moon 

Nought  but  her  changes.     Thus,  ungrateful  Nation : 

If  thou  persist,  and,  scorning  moderation, 

Spread  for  thyself  the  snares  of  tribulation, 

Whom,  then,  shall  meekness  guard  ?     What  saving  skill 

Lie  in  forbearance,  strength  in  standing  still  ? 

— Soon  shall  the  widow  (for  the  speed  of  Time 

Nought  equals  when  the  hours  are  winged  with  crime) 

Widow,  or  wife,  implore  on  tremulous  knee, 

From  him  who  judged  her  lord,  a  like  decree ; 

The  skies  will  weep  o'er  old  men  desolate : 

Ye  little-ones !     Earth  shudders  at  your  fate, 

Outcasts  and  homeless  orphans 

But  turn,  my  Soul,  and  from  the  sleeping  pair 
Learn  thou  the  beauty  of  omniscient  care ! 

*  See  the  Fenwick  note  prefixed  to  the  poem. — ED. 


ON  A  HIGH  PART  OF  THE  COAST  OF  CUMBERLAND.     327 

Be  strong  in  faith,  bid  anxious  thoughts  lie  still ; 
Seek  for  the  good  and  cherish  it — the  ill 
Oppose,  or  bear  with  a  submissive  will. 


Comp.  1833.     Pub.  1835. 

IF  this  great  world  of  joy  and  pain 

Eevolve  in  one  sure  track ; 
If  freedom,  set,  will  rise  again, 

And  virtue,  flown,  come  back ; 
Woe  to  the  purblind  crew  who  fill 

The  heart  with  each  day's  care ; 
Nor  gain,  from  past  or  future,  skill 

To  bear,  and  to  forbear  ! 

ON  A  HIGH  PAET  OF  THE  COAST  OF 
CUMBEELAND. 

Easter  Sunday,  April  7. 

THE  AUTHOR'S  SIXTY-THIRD  BIRTH-DAY. 

Comp.  1833.     —   -    Pub.  1835. 

[The  lines  were  composed  on  the  road  between  Moresby  and 
Whitehaven  while  I  was  on  a  visit  to  my  son,  then  rector  of  the  former 
place.  This  succession  of  Voluntaries,  with  the  exception  of  the  8th 
and  9th,  originated  in  the  concluding  lines  of  the  last  paragraph  of  this 
poem.  With  this  coast  I  have  been  familiar  from  my  earliest  childhood, 
and  remember  being  struck  for  the  first  time  by  the  town  and  port  of 
Whitehaven  and  the  white  waves  breaking  against  its  quays  and  piers, 
as  the  whole  came  into  view  from  the  top  of  the  high  ground  down 
which  the  road  (it  has  since  been  altered)  then  descended  abruptly. 
My  sister,  when  she  first  heard  the  voice  of  the  sea  from  this  point,  and 
beheld  the  scene  before  her,  burst  into  tears.  Our  family  then  lived  at 
Cockermouth,  and  this  fact  was  often  mentioned  among  us  as  indicating 
the  sensibility  for  which  she  was  so  remarkable.] 

THE  Sun,  that  seemed  so  mildly  to  retire, 
Flung  back  from  distant  climes  a  streaming  fire, 
Whose  blaze  is  now  subdued  to  tender  gleams, 


328  BY  THE  SEA-SIDE. 

Prelude  of  night's  approach  with  soothing  dreams. 
Look  round ; — of  all  the  clouds  not  one  is  moving ; 
'Tis  the  still  hour  of  thinking,  feeling,  loving. 
Silent,  and  stedfast  as  the  vaulted  sky 
The  boundless  plain  of  waters  seems  to  lie  : — 
Comes  that  low  sound  from  breezes  rustling  o'er 
The  grass-crowned  headland  that  conceals  the  shore  ? 
No ;  'tis  the  earth-voice  of  the  mighty  sea, 
Whispering  how  meek  and  gentle  he  can  be  !  * 

Thou  Power  supreme  !  who,  arming  to  rebuke 
Offenders,  dost  put  off  the  gracious  look, 
And  clothe  thyself  with  terrors  like  the  flood 
Of  ocean  roused  into  his  fiercest  mood, 
Whatever  discipline  thy  Will  ordain 
For  the  brief  course  that  must  for  me  remain; 
Teach  me  with  quick-eared  spirit  to  rejoice 
In  admonitions  of  thy  softest  voice ! 
Whate'er  the  path  these  mortal  feet  may  trace, 
Breathe  through  my  soul  the  blessing  of  thy  grace, 
Glad,  through  a  perfect  love,  a  faith  sincere 
Drawn  from  the  wisdom  that  begins  with  fear, 
Glad  to  expand ;  and,  for  a  season,  free 
From  finite  cares,  to  rest  absorbed  in  Thee  ! 

(BY  THE  SEA-SIDE.) 
Comp.  1833.     Pub.  1835. 

THE  sun  is  couched,  the  sea-fowl  gone  to  rest, 
And  the  wild  storm  hath  somewhere  found  a  nest ; 

*  Compare  the  Elegiac  Stanzas,  suggested  by  a  Picture  of  Peele  Castle  in 
a  Storm  (1805),  Vol.  III.,  p.  45 ;  also  the  sonnet  (written  in  1807),  "  Two 
voices  are  there,  one  is  of  the  sea,"  Vol.  IV.,  p.  64 ;  and  the  second 
sonnet  on  the  Cave  of  Staffa,  in  the  poems  descriptive  of  the  tour  in  Scot- 
land in  1833.— ED. 


BY  THE  SEA-SIDE.  329 

Air  slumbers — wave  with  wave  no  longer  strives, 
Only  a  heaving  of  the  deep  survives,* 
A  tell-tale  motion !  soon  will  it  be  laid, 
And  by  the  tide  alone  the  water  swayed. 
Stealthy  withdrawings,  interminglings  mild 
Of  light  with  shade  in  beauty  reconciled — 
Such  is  the  prospect  far  as  sight  can  range, 
The  soothing  recompence,  the  welcome  change. 
Where  now  the  ships  that  drove  before  the  blast, 
Threatened  by  angry  breakers  as  they  passed ; 
And  by  a  train  of  flying  clouds  bemocked  ; 
Or,  in  the  hollow  surge,  at  anchor  rocked 
As  on  a  bed  of  death  ?     Some  lodge  in  peace, 
Saved  by  His  care  who  bade  the  tempest  cease ; 
And  some,  too  heedless  of  past  danger,  court 
Fresh  gales  to  waft  them  to  the  far-off  port ; 
But  near,  or  hanging  sea  and  sky  between, 
Not  one  of  all  those  winged  powers  is  seen, 
Seen  in  her  course,  nor  'mid  this  quiet  heard; 
Yet  oh !  how  gladly  would  the  air  be  stirred 
By  some  acknowledgment  of  thanks  and  praise, 
Soft  in  its  temper  as  those  vesper  lays 
Sung  to  the  Virgin  while  accordant  oars 
Urge  the  slow  bark  along  Calabrian  shores ; 
A  sea-born  service  through  the  mountains  felt 
Till  into  one  loved  vision  all  things  melt : 
Or  like  those  hymns  that  soothe  with  graver  sound 
The  gulfy  coast  of  Norway  iron-bound  ; 
And,  from  the  wide  and  open  Baltic,  rise 
With  punctual  care,  Lutherian  harmonies. 
Hush,  not  a  voice  is  here  !  but  why  repine, 

*  Compare  the  previous  poem. — ED. 


330  COMPOSED  BY  THE  SEA-SHORE. 

Now  when  the  star  of  eve  comes  forth  to  shine 

On  British  waters  with  that  look  benign  ?  * 

Ye  mariners,  that  plough  your  onward  way, 

Or  in  the  haven  rest,  or  sheltering  bay, 

May  silent  thanks  at  least  to  God  be  given 

With  a  full  heart ;  '  our  thoughts  are  heard  in  heaven  ! ' 


COMPOSED  BY  THE  SEA-SHOEE. 
Comp.  1834.     Pub.  1845. 

[These  lines  were  suggested  during  my  residence  under  my  Son's 
roof  at  Moresby,  on  the  coast  near  Whitehaven,  at  the  time  when  I 
was  composing  those  verses  among  the  "Evening  Voluntaries"  that 
have  reference  to  the  sea.  It  was  in  that  neighbourhood  I  first  became 
acquainted  with  the  ocean  and  its  appearances  and  movements.  My 
infancy  and  early  childhood  were  passed  at  Cockermouth,  about  eight 
miles  from  the  coast,  and  I  well  remember  that  mysterious  awe  with 
which  I  used  to  listen  to  anything  said  about  storms  and  shipwrecks. 
Sea-shells  of  many  descriptions  were  common  in  the  town  ;  and  I  was 
not  a  little  surprised  when  I  heard  that  Mr  Landor  t  had  denounced 
me  as  a  plagiarist  from  himself  for  having  described  a  boy  applying  a 
sea-shell  to  his  ear  and  listening  to  it  for  intimations  of  what  was 
going  on  in  its  native  element.  This  I  had  done  myself  scores  of 
times,  and  it  was  a  belief  among  us  that  we  could  know  from  the 
sound  whether  the  tide  was  ebbing  or  flowing.] 

WHAT  mischief  cleaves  to  unsubdued  regret, 
How  fancy  sickens  by  vague  hopes  beset ; 
How  baffled  projects  on  the  spirit  prey, 
And  fruitless  wishes  eat  the  heart  away, 
The  Sailor  knows ;  he  best,  whose  lot  is  cast 
On  the  relentless  sea  that  holds  him  fast 
On  chance  dependent,  and  the  fickle  star 
Of  power,  through  long  and  melancholy  war. 

*  Compare  Robert  Browning's  Home-thougJits  from  the  Sea — 

*'  While  Jove's  planet  rises  yonder,  silent  over  Africa." 

—ED. 

t  The  passage  in  Lander's  Gebir,  Book  I. ,  is  quoted  in  a  note  to  fourth 
book  of  The  Excursion,  (see  Vol.  V.,  p.  191).— ED. 


TO  THE  UTILITARIANS.  331 

0  sad  it  is,  in  sight  of  foreign  shores, 

Daily  to  think  on  old  familiar  doors, 

Hearths  loved  in  childhood,  and  ancestral  floors ; 

Or,  tossed  about  along  a  waste  of  foam, 

To  ruminate  on  that  delightful  home 

Which  with  the  dear  Betrothed  was  to  come  ; 

Or  came  and  was  and  is,  yet  meets  the  eye 

Never  but  in  the  world  of  memory  ; 

Or  in  a  dream  recalled,  whose  smoothest  range 

Is  crossed  by  knowledge,  or  by  dread,  of  change, 

And  if  not  so,  whose  perfect  joy  makes  sleep 

A  thing  too  bright  for  breathing  man  to  keep. 

Hail  to  the  virtues  which  that  perilous  life 

Extracts  from  Nature's  elemental  strife  ; 

And  welcome  glory  won  in  battles  fought 

As  bravely  as  the  foe  was  keenly  sought. 

But  to  each  gallant  Captain  and  his  crew 

A  less  imperious  sympathy  is  due, 

Such  as  my  verse  now  yields,  while  moonbeams  play 

On  the  mute  sea  in  this  unruffled  bay ; 

Such  as  will  promptly  flow  from  every  breast, 

Where  good  men,  disappointed  in  the  quest 

Of  wealth  and  power  and  honours,  long  for  rest ; 

Or,  having  known  the  splendours  of  success, 

Sigh  for  the  obscurities  of  happiness. 


TO  THE  UTILITAEIANS. 

The  following  fragment  occurs  in  a  letter  to  Henry  Crabbe  Eobinson, 
dated  5th  May  1833.     It  has  not  been  previously  published. 

AVAUNT  this  ceconomic  rage  ! 
What  would  it  bring  ? — an  iron  age, 
Where  Fact  with  heartless  search  explored 
Shall  be  Imagination's  Lord, 


332  ADIEU,  RYDALIAN  LAUKELS!  THAT  HAVE  GROWN. 

And  sway  with  absolute  controul 
The  god-like  Functions  of  the  Soul. 
Not  thus  can  knowledge  elevate 
Our  Nature  from  her  fallen  state. 
With  sober  Eeason  Faith  unites 
To  vindicate  the  ideal  rights 
Of  human-kind — the  tone  agreeing 
Of  objects  with  internal  seeing, 
Of  effort  with  the  end  of  Being. 

Wordsworth  added,  in  the  letter  to  Eobinson,  "  Is  the  above  intel- 
ligible ?  I  fear  not !  I  know,  however,  my  own  meaning,  and  that's 
enough  for  Manuscripts." — ED. 


POEMS, 

COMPOSED  OE  SUGGESTED  DUKHSTG  A  TOUE, 
IN  THE  SUMMEE  OF  1833. 

Comp.  1833.        —    Pub.  1835. 
[My  companions  were  H.  C.  Eobinson  and  my  son  John.] 

Having  been  prevented  by  the  lateness  of  the  season,  in  1831,  from 
visiting  Staffa  and  lona,  the  author  made  these  the  principal  objects 
of  a  short  tour  in  the  summer  of  1833,  of  which  the  following  series  of 
poems  is  a  Memorial.  The  course  pursued  was  down  the  Cumberland 
river  Derwent,  and  to  Whitehaven ;  thence  (by  the  Isle  of  Man, 
where  a  few  days  were  passed)  up  the  Frith  of  Clyde  to  Greenock, 
then  to  Oban,  Staffa,  lona ;  and  back  towards  England  by  Loch  Awe, 
Inverary,  Loch  Goil-head,  Greenock,  and  through  parts  of  Eenfrew- 
shire,  Ayrshire,  and  Dumfries-shire  to  Carlisle,  and  thence  up  the  river 
Eden,  and  homewards  by  Ullswater. 


ADIEU,  Rydalian  Laurels  !  that  have  grown 
And  spread  as  if  ye  knew  that  days  might  come 
When  ye  would  shelter  in  a  happy  home, 
On  this  fair  Mount,  a  Poet  of  your  own, 
One  who  ne'er  ventured  for  a  Delphic  crown 


WHY  SHOULD  THE  ENTHUSIAST.  333 

To  sue  the  God  ;  but,  haunting  your  green  shade  x 
All  seasons  through,  is  humbly  pleased  to  braid2 
Ground-flowers,  beneath  your  guardianship,  self-sown.* 
Farewell !  no  Minstrels  now  with  harp  new-strung 
For  summer  wandering  quit  their  household  bowers  ; 
Yet  not  for  this  wants  Poesy  a  tongue 
To  cheer  the  Itinerant  on  whom  she  pours 
Her  spirit,  while  he  crosses  lonely  moors, 
Or  musing  sits  forsaken  halls  among. 


II. 

WHY  should  the  Enthusiast,  journeying  through  this  Isle, 

Eepine  as  if  his  hour  were  come  too  late  ? 

Not  unprotected  in  her  mouldering  state, 

Antiquity  salutes  him  with  a  smile, 

'Mid  fruitful  fields  that  ring  with  jocund  toil, 

And  pleasure-grounds  where  Taste,  refined  Co-mate 

Of  Truth  and  Beauty,  strives  to  imitate, 

Far  as  she  may,  primeval  Nature's  style. 

Fair  Land  !  by  Time's  parental  love  made  free, 

By  Social  Order's  watchful  arms  embraced  ; 

With  unexampled  union  meet  in  thee, 

For  eye  and  mind,  the  present  and  the  past ; 

With  golden  prospect  for  futurity, 

If  that  be  reverenced  which  ought  to  last.3 

1  One  who  to  win  your  emblematic  crown 

Aspires  not,  but  frequenting  your  green  shade          MS. 

Who  dares  not  sue  the  God  for  your  bright  crown 

Of  deathless  leaves ,  but  haunting  your  green  shade     MS. 

2  ...        delights  fresh  wreaths  to  braid.          MS. 

3  1845. 

If  what  is  rightly  reverenced  may  last.  1835. 

*  The  yellow  flowering  poppy  and  the  wild  geranium.     See  the  Poem 
Poor  Robin,  March  1840.— ED. 


334  TO  THE  RIVER  GRETA,  NEAR  KESWIOK. 

III. 

THEY  called  Thee  MERRY  ENGLAND,  in  old  time  ; 

A  happy  people  won  for  thee  that  name 

With  envy  heard  in  many  a  distant  clime ; 

And,  spite  of  change,  for  me  thou  keep'st  the  same 

Endearing  title,  a  responsive  chime 

To  the  heart's  fond  belief ;  though  some  there  are 

Whose  sterner  judgments  deem  that  word  a  snare 

For  inattentive  Fancy,  like  the  lime 

Which  foolish  birds  are  caught  with.     Can,  I  ask, 

This  face  of  rural  beauty  be  a  mask 

For  discontent,  and  poverty,  and  crime  ; 

These  spreading  towns  a  cloak  for  lawless  will  ? 

Forbid  it,  Heaven  ! — and  MERRY  ENGLAND  still 

Shall l  be  thy  rightful  name,  in  prose  and  rhyme  ! 

IV. 

TO  THE  EIVEK  GKETA,  NEAK  KESWICK. 

GRETA,  what  fearful  listening  !  when  huge  stones 

Eumble  along  thy  bed,  block  after  block  : 

Or,  whirling  with  reiterated  shock, 

Combat,  while  darkness  aggravates  the  groans : 

But  if  thou  (like  Cocytus  from  the  moans* 

1  1837. 

May 1835. 

*  Many  years  ago,  when  I  was  at  Greta  Bridge,  in  Yorkshire,  the 
hostess  of  the  inn,  proud  of  her  skill  in  etymology,  said,  that  "the  name 
of  the  river  was  taken  from  the  bridge,  the  form  of  which,  as  every  one 
must  notice,  exactly  resembled  a  great  A."  Dr  Whitaker  has  derived  it 
from  the  word  of  common  occurrence  in  the  north  of  England,  "  to  greet ;  " 
signifying  to  lament  aloud,  mostly  with  weeping:  a  conjecture  rendered 
more  probable  from  the  stony  and  rocky  channel  of  both  the  Cumberland 
and  Yorkshire  rivers.  The  Cumberland  Greta,  though  it  does  not,  among 
the  country  people,  take  up  that  name  till  within  three  miles  of  its  dis- 


TO  THE  RIVER  GRETA,  NEAR  KESWICK.  335 

Heard  on  his  rueful  margin  *)  thence  wert  named 

The  Mourner,  thy  true  nature  was  defamed, 

And  the  habitual  murmur  that  atones 

For  thy  worst  rage,  forgotten.      Oft  as  Spring 

Decks,  on  thy  sinuous  banks,  her  thousand  thrones, 

Seats  of  glad  instinct  and  love's  carolling, 

The  concert,  for  the  happy,  then  may  vie 

With  liveliest  peals  of  birth-day  harmony : 

To  a  grieved  heart,  the  notes  are  benisons. 

Compare  The  Prelude,  Book  I.  (see  Vol.  III.,  p.  139)— 

"  Was  it  for  this 

That  one,  the  fairest  of  all  rivers,  loved 
To  blend  his  murmurs  with  my  nurse's  song, 
And,  from  his  alder  shades  and  rocky  falls, 
And  from  his  fords  and  shallows,  sent  a  voice 
That  flowed  along  my  dreams  ? 

Make  ceaseless  music  that  composed  my  thoughts 
To  more  than  infant  softness." 

—ED. 

appearance  in  the  river  Derwent,  may  be  considered  as  having  its  source 
in  the  mountain  cove  of  Wythburn,  and  flowing  through  Thirlmere,  the 
beautiful  features  of  which  lake  are  known  only  to  those  who,  travelling 
between  Grasmere  and  Keswick,  have  quitted  the  main  road  in  the  vale  of 
Wythburn,  and,  crossing  over  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake,  have 
proceeded  with  it  on  the  right  hand. 

The  channel  of  the  Greta,  immediately  above  Keswick,  has,  for  the 
purposes  of  building,  been  in  a  great  measure  cleared  of  the  immense  stones 
which,  by  their  concussion  in  high  floods,  produced  the  loud  and  awful 
noises  described  in  the  sonnet. 

"The  scenery  upon  this  river,"  says  Mr  Southey  in  his  Colloquies, 
"where  it  passes  under  the  woody  side  of  Latrigg,  is  of  the  finest  and 
most  rememberable  kind  : — 

—  '  ambiguo  lapsu  refluitque  fluitque, 
Occurrensque  sibi  venturas  aspicit  undas.'  " 

— W.  W.,  1835. 

*  The  Cocytus  was  a  tributary  of  the  Acheron,  in  Epirus,  but  was  sup- 
posed to  have  some  connection  with  the  underworld,  doubtless,  as  Words- 
worth puts  it, 

"  from  the  moans 
Heard  on  his  rueful  margin." 
Compare  Homer,  Od.  X.,  513,  and  Virgil,  Aen.  VI.,  295.— ED. 


336  TO  THE  RIVER  DERWENT. 

V. 
TO  THE  EIVEE  DEEWENT.* 

AMONG  the  mountains  were  we  nursed,  loved  Stream  ! 

Thou  near  the  eagle's  nest  t — within  brief  sail, 

I,  of  his  bold  wing  floating  on  the  gale, 

Where  thy  deep  voice  could  lull  me  !     Faint  the  beam 

Of  human  life  when  first  allowed  to  gleam 

On  mortal  notice. — Glory  of  the  vale, 

Such  thy  meek  outset,  with  a  crown,  though  frail, 

Kept  in  perpetual  verdure  by  the  steam 

Of  thy  soft  breath ! — Less  vivid  wreath  entwined 

Nemaean  victor's  brow ;  J   less  bright  was  worn, 

Meed  of  some  Eoman  chief — in  triumph  borne 

With  captives  chained ;  and  shedding  from  his  car 

The  sunset  splendours  of  a  finished  war 

Upon  the  proud  enslavers  of  mankind  ! 

VI. 

IN  SIGHT  OF  THE  TOWN  OF  COCKERMOUTH. 

(Where  the  Author  was  born,  and  his  Father's  remains  are  laid.) 
A  POINT  of  life  between  my  Parents'  dust, 
And  yours,  my  buried  Little-ones  !  §  am  I ; 

*  This  sonnet  has  already  appeared  in  several  editions  of  the  author's 
poems ;  but  he  is  tempted  to  reprint  it  in  this  place,  as  a  natural  introduc- 
tion to  the  two  that  follow  it.— W.  W.,  1835. 

It  was  first  published  in  1819. — ED. 

t  The  river  Derwent  rises  in  Langstrath  valley,  Borrowdale,  in  which  is 
Eagle  Crag,  so  named  from  its  having  been  the  haunt  of  a  bird  that  is  now 
extinct  in  Cumberland.— ED. 

t  The  Nemsean  games  were  celebrated  every  third  or  fifth  year  at 
Nemsea  in  Argolis.  The  victor  was  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  olive. — 
ED. 

§  His  children,  Catherine  and  Thomas,  who  died  in  infancy  at  the 
Parsonage,  Grasmere,  and  were  buried  in  Grasmere  Churchyard.— ED. 


ADDRESS  FROM  THE  SPIRIT  OF  COCKERMOUTH  CASTLE.  337 

And  to  those  graves  looking  habitually 
In  kindred  quiet  I  repose  my  trust. 
Death  to  the  innocent  is  more  than  just, 
And,  to  the  sinner,  mercifully  bent ; 
So  may  I  hope,  if  truly  I  repent 
And  meekly  bear  the  ills  which  bear  I  must : 
And  You,  my  Offspring !  that  do  still  remain, 
Yet  may  outstrip  me  in  the  appointed  race, 
If  e'er,  through  fault  of  mine,  in  mutual  pain 
We  breathed  together  for  a  moment's  space, 
The  wrong,  by  love  provoked,  let  love  arraign, 
And  only  love  keep  in  your  hearts  a  place. 


VII. 

ADDEESS  FKOM   THE  SPIEIT  OF    COCKEKMOUTH 

CASTLE. 

"  THOU  look'st  upon  me,  and  dost  fondly  think, 
Poet !  that,  stricken  as  both  are  by  years, 
We,  differing  once  so  much,  are  now  Compeers, 
Prepared,  when  each  has  stood  his  time,  to  sink 
Into  the  dust.     Erewhile  a  sterner  link 
United  us  ;  when  thou,  in  boyish  play, 
Entering  my  dungeon,  didst  become  a  prey 
To  soul-appalling  darkness.     Not  a  blink 
Of  light  was  there ; — and  thus  did  I,  thy  Tutor, 
Make  thy  young  thoughts  acquainted  with  the  grave ; 
While  thou  wert  chasing  the  wing'd  butterfly 
Through  my  green  courts  ;*  or  climbing,  a  bold  suitor, 

*  Compare  To  a  Butterfly — 

Oh  !  pleasant,  pleasant  were  the  days, 
The  time  when,  in  our  childish  plays, 
My  sister  Emmeline  and  I 
Together  chased  the  butterfly  ! 

(Vol.  II.  p.  254.) -ED. 

VII.  Y 


338  NUN'S  WELL,  BEIGHAM. 

Up  to  the  flowers  whose  golden  progeny 

Still  round  my  shattered  brow  in  beauty  wave."  * 

VIII. 

NUN'S  WELL,  BEIGHAM. 

[So  named  from  the  religious  House  that  stood  close  by.  I  have 
rather  an  odd  anecdote  to  relate  of  the  Nun's  Well.  One  day  the 
landlady  of  a  public-house,  a  field's  length  from  the  well,  on  the  road 
side,  said  to  me—"  You  have  been  to  see  the  Nun's  Well,  Sir  ?"  "  The 
Nun's  Well !  what  is  that  1 "  said  the  Postman,  who  in  his  royal  livery 
stopt  his  mail-car  at  the  door.  The  landlady  and  I  explained  to  him 
what  the  name  meant,  and  what  sort  of  people  the  nuns  were.  A 
countryman  who  was  standing  by,  rather  tipsy,  stammered  out — 
"  Aye,  those  nuns  were  good  people  ;  they  are  gone  ;  but  we  shall 
soon  have  them  back  again."  The  Reform  mania  was  just  then  at 
its  height.] 

THE  cattle  crowding  round  this  beverage  clear 

To  slake  their  thirst,  with  reckless  hoofs  have  trod 

The  encircling  turf  into  a  barren  clod ; 

Through  which  the  waters  creep,  then  disappear, 

Born  to  be  lost  in  Derwent  flowing  near ; 

Yet,  o'er  the  brink,  and  round  the  lime-stone  cell 

Of  the  pure  spring  (they  call  it  the  "  Nun's  Well," 

Name  that  first  struck  by  chance  my  startled  ear) 

A  tender  Spirit  broods — the  pensive  Shade 

Of  ritual  honours  to  this  Fountain  paid 

By  hooded  Votaresses  *  with  saintly  cheer ;  t 

1  1837. 

Votaries        ....  1835. 

*  Compare  The  Prelude,  Book  I.— 

The  shadow  of  these  towers 
That  yet  survive,  a  shattered  monument 
Of  feudal  sway. 

(Vol.  III.  p.  139.)— ED. 

t  Attached  to  the  church  of  Brigham  was  formerly  a  chantry,  which 
held  a  moiety  of  the  manor  ;  and  in  the  decayed  parsonage  some  vestiges  of 
monastic  architecture  are  still  to  be  seen. — W.  W.,  18,35. 


TO  A  FRIEND.  339 

Albeit  oft  the  Virgin-mother  mild 

Looked  down  with  pity  upon  eyes  beguiled 

Into  the  shedding  of  '  too  soft  a  tear.' 


IX. 

TO  A  FEIEND  * 

(ON   THE   BANKS   OF   THE   DERWENT.) 

[My  son  John,  who  was  then  building  a  parsonage  on  his  small 
living  at  Brigham.] 

PASTOR  and  Patriot ! — at  whose  bidding  rise 
These  modest  walls,  amid  a  flock  that  need, 
For  one  who  comes  to  watch  them  and  to  feed, 
A  fixed  Abode — keep  down  presageful  sighs.1 
Threats,  which  the  unthinking  only  can  despise, 
Perplex  the  Church ;  but  be  thou  firm, — be  true 
To  thy  first  hope,  and  this  good  work  pursue, 
Poor  as  thou  art.     A  welcome  sacrifice 
Dost  Thou  prepare,  whose  sign  will  be  the  smoke  2 
Of  thy  new  hearth ;  and  sooner  shall  its  wreaths, 
Mounting  while  earth  her  morning  incense  breathes, 
From  wandering  fiends  of  air  receive  a  yoke, 
And  straightway  cease  to  aspire,  than  God  disdain 
This  humble  tribute  as  ill-timed  or  vain. 


1  1835. 

foreboding  sighs. 

MS.  Letter  to  Lady  Beaumont. 

2  1835. 

To  Him  who  dwells  in  Heaven  will  be  the  smoke 

MS.  Letter  to  Lady  Beaumont. 

*  John  Wordsworth,  the  poet's  son,  the  subject  of  this  sonnet,  was  incum- 
bent of  Moresby,  near  Whitehaven,  before  he  went  to  Brigham.  See  the 
Fenwick  note,  p.  330. — ED. 


340  MARY,  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS. 

X. 

MAEY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS. 
(LANDING  AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  THE  DERWENT,  WORKINGTON.)* 

[I  will  mention  for  the  sake  of  the  friend  who  is  writing  down  these 
notes,  that  it  was  among  the  fine  Scotch  firs  near  Ambleside,  and 
particularly  those  near  Green  Bank,  that  I  have  over  and  over  again 
paused  at  the  sight  of  this  image.  Long  may  they  stand  to  afford  a 
ike  gratification  to  others  !  This  wish  is  not  uncalled  for,  several  of 
brethren  having  already  disappeared.] 

DEAR  to  the  Loves,  and  to  the  Graces  vowed, 
The  Queen  drew  back  the  wimple  that  she  wore ; 
And  to  the  throng,  that  on  the  Cumbrian  shore 
Her  landing  hailed,  how  touchingly  she  bowed  I1 
And  like  a  Star  (that,  from  a  heavy  cloud  2 
Of  pine-tree  foliage  poised  in  air,  forth  darts,3 
When  a  soft  summer  gale  at  evening  parts 
The  gloom  that  did  its  loveliness  enshroud) 
She  smiled ;  t  but  Time,  the  old  Saturnian  seer, 

1  1837. 

And  to  the  throng  how  touchingly  she  bowed 

That  hailed  her  landing  on  the  Cumbrian  shore  ;     1835. 

2  1843. 

Bright  as  a  star  (that,  from  a  sombre  cloud  1835. 

3  3835. 

High  poised  in  air  of  pine-tree  foliage,  darts,  MS 


*  "  The  fears  and  impatience  of  Mary  were  so  great,"  says  Robertson, 
"that  she  got  into  a  fisher-boat,  and  with  about  twenty  attendants  landed 
at  Workington,  in  Cumberland  ;  and  thence  she  was  conducted  with  many 
marks  of  respect  to  Carlisle."  The  apartment  in  which  the  Queen  had 
slept  at  Workington  Hall  (where  she  was  received  by  Sir  Henry  Hall  as 
became  her  rank  and  misfortunes)  was  long  preserved,  out  of  respect  to  her 
memory,  as  she  had  left  it ;  and  one  cannot  but  regret  that  some  necessary 
alterations  in  the  mansion  could  not  be  effected  without  its  destruction. — 
W.  W.,  1835. 

t  Compare  The  Triad— 

"  So  gleams  the  crescent  moon,  that  loves 

To  be  descried  through  shady  groves."  — ED. 


STANZAS  SUGGESTED  IN  A  STEAM-BOAT. 

Sighed  on  the  wing  as  her  foot  pressed  the  strand, 

With  step  prelusive  to  a  long  array 

Of  woes  and  degradations  hand  in  hand — 

"Weeping  captivity,  and  shuddering  fear 

Stilled  by  the  ensanguined  block  of  Fotheringay ! l 


STANZAS    SUGGESTED    IN    A    STEAM-BOAT    OFF    SAINT 
BEES'  HEADS,  ON  THE  COAST  OF  CUMBERLAND.* 

IF  Life  were  slumber  on  a  bed  of  down, 
Toil  unimposed,  vicissitude  unknown, 
Sad  were  our  lot :  no  hunter  of  the  hare 
Exults  like  him  whose  javelin  from  the  lair 
Has  roused  the  lion ;  no  one  plucks  the  rose, 
Whose  proffered  beauty  in  safe  shelter  blows 
'Mid  a  trim  garden's  summer  luxuries, 
With  joy  like  his  who  climbs,  on  hands  and  knees, 
For  some  rare  plant,  yon  Headland  of  St  Bees. 

1  1835. 

Thenceforth  he  saw  a  long  and  long  array 

Of  miserable  seasons  hand  in  hand — 

Weeping,  captivity,  and  pallid  fear, 

And  last,  the  ensanguined  block  of  Fotheringay.       MS. 

*  St  Bees'  Heads,  anciently  called  the  Cliff  of  Baruth,  are  a  conspicuous 
sea-mark  for  all  vessels  sailing  in  the  N.E.  parts  of  the  Irish  Sea.  In 
a  bay,  one  side  of  which  is  formed  by  the  southern  headland,  stands  the 
village  of  St  Bees  ;  a  place  distinguished,  from  very  early  times,  for  its 
religious  and  scholastic  foundations. 

"  St  Bees,"  says  Nicholson  and  Burns,  "  had  its  name  from  Bega,  an  holy 
woman  from  Ireland,  who  is  said  to  have  founded  here,  about  the  year  of 
our  Lord  650,  a  small  monastery,  where  afterwards  a  church  was  built  in 
memory  of  her. 

"The  aforesaid  religious  house,  being  destroyed  by  the  Danes,  was 
restored  by  William  de  Meschiens,  son  of  Ranulph,  and  brother  of  Ranulph 
de  Meschiens,  first  Earl  of  Cumberland  after  the  Conquest ;  and  made  a  cell 
of  a  prior  and  six  Benedictine  monks  to  the  Abbey  of  St  Mary  at  York." 

Several  traditions  of  miracles,  connected  with  the  foundation  of  the 
first  of  these  religious  houses,  survive  among  the  people  of  the  neighbour- 
hood ;  one  of  which  is  alluded  to  in  these  Stanzas ;  and  another,  of  a  some- 


342  STANZAS  SUGGESTED  IN  A  STEAM-BOAT. 

This  independence  upon  oar  and  sail, 
This  new  indifference  to  breeze  or  gale, 
This  straight-lined  progress,  furrowing  a  flat  lea, 
And  regular  as  if  locked  in  certainty — 
Depress  the  hours.      Up,  Spirit  of  the  storm  ! 
That  Courage  may  find  something  to  perform  ; 
That  Fortitude,  whose  blood  disdains  to  freeze 
At  Danger's  bidding,  may  confront  the  seas, 
Firm  as  the  towering  Headlands  of  St  Bees. 

Dread  cliff  of  Baruth  !  that  wild  wish  may  sleep, 
Bold  as  if  men  and  creatures  of  the  Deep 
Breathed  the  same  element ;  too  many  wrecks 
Have  struck  thy  sides,  too  many  ghastly  decks 
Hast  thou  looked  down  upon,  that  such  a  thought 
Should  here  be  welcome,  and  in  verse  en  wrought : 
With  thy  stern  aspect  better  far  agrees 
Utterance  of  thanks  that  we  have  past  with  ease, 
As  millions  thus  shall  do,  the  Headlands  of  St  Bees. 

what  bolder  and  more  peculiar  character,  has  furnished  the  subject  of  a 
spirited  poem  by  the  Rev.  R.  Parkinson,  M.A.,  late  Divinity  Lecturer  of 
St  Bees'  College,  and  now  Fellow  of  the  Collegiate  Church  of  Manchester. 

After  the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries,  Archbishop  Grindal  founded  a 
free  school  at  St  Bees,  from  which  the  counties  of  Cumberland  and  West- 
moreland have  derived  great  benefit ;  and  recently,  under  the  patronage  of 
the  Earl  of  Lonsdale,  a  college  has  been  established  there  for  the  education 
of  ministers  for  the  English  Church.  The  old  Conventual  Church  has  been 
repaired  under  the  superintendence  of  the  Rev.  Dr  Ainger,  the  Head  of  the 
College ;  and  is  well  worthy  of  being  visited  by  any  strangers  who  might 
be  led  to  the  neighbourhood  of  this  celebrated  spot. 

The  form  of  stanza  in  this  Poem,  and  something  in  the  style  of  versifica- 
tion, are  adopted  from  the  "  St  Monica,"  a  poem  of  much  beauty  upon  a 
monastic  subject,  by  Charlotte  Smith  :  a  lady  to  whom  English  verse 
is  under  greater  obligations  than  are  likely  to  be  either  acknowledged  or 
remembered.  She  wrote  little,  and  that  little  unambitiously,  but  with  true 
feeling  for  rural  nature,  at  a  time  when  nature  was  not  much  regarded  by 
English  Poets  ;  for  in  point  of  time  her  earlier  writings  preceded,  I  believe, 
those  of  Cowper  and  Burns.— W.  W.,  1835. 


STANZAS  SUGGESTED  IN  A  STEAM-BOAT.  343 

Yet,  while  each  useful  Art  augments  her  store, 

What  boots  the  gain  if  Nature  should  lose  more, — 

And  Wisdom,  as  she  holds1  a  Christian  place 

In  man's  intelligence  sublimed  by  grace  ? 

When  Bega  sought  of  yore  the  Cumbrian  coast,* 

Tempestuous  winds  her  holy  errand  crossed : 

She2  knelt  in  prayer — the  waves  their  wrath  appease ; 

And,  from  her  vow  well  weighed  in  Heaven's  decrees, 

Eose,  where  she  touched  the  strand,  the  Chantry  of  St  Bees. 

"  Cruel  of  heart  were  they,  bloody  of  hand," 

Who  in  these  Wilds  then  struggled  for  command ;  t 

The  strong  were  merciless,  without  hope  the  weak ; 

Till  this  bright  Stranger  came,  fair  as  daybreak, 

And  as  a  cresset  true  that  darts  its  length 

Of  beamy  lustre  from  a  tower  of  strength ; 

Guiding  the  mariner  through  troubled  seas, 

And  cheering  oft  his  peaceful  reveries, 

Like  the  fixed  Light  that  crowns  yon  Headland  of  St  Bees. 

To  aid  the  Votaress,  miracles  believed 
Wrought  in  men's  minds,  like  miracles  achieved ; 
So  piety  took  root ;  and  Song  might  tell 
What  humanising  virtues  near  her  cell3 

1  1845. 

And  Wisdom,  that  once  held     .        .        .  1835. 

2  1837. 

cross'd ; 

As  high  and  higher  heaved  the  billows,  faith 
Grew  with  them,  mightier  than  the  powers  of  death. 
She 1335. 

3  1837. 

round  her  Cell  1835. 

*  See  the  note,  p.  341.— ED. 

t  The  Danes,  and  the  Cymric  aborigines.— ED. 


344  STANZAS  SUGGESTED  IN  A  STEAM-BOAT. 

Sprang  up,  and  spread  their  fragrance  wide  around ; 

How  savage  bosoms  melted  at  the  sound 

Of  gospel-truth  enchained  in  harmonies 

Wafted  o'er  waves,  or  creeping  through  close  trees, 

From  her  religious  Mansion  of  St  Bees. 


When  her  sweet  Voice,  that  instrument  of  love, 

Was  glorified,  and  took  its  place,  above 

The  silent  stars,  among  the  angelic  quire, 

Her  chantry  blazed  with  sacrilegious  fire, 

And  perished  utterly  ;  but  her  good  deeds 

Had  sown  the  spot,  that  witnessed  them,  with  seeds 

Which  lay  in  earth  expectant,  till  a  breeze 

With  quickening  impulse  answered  their  mute  pleas, 

And  lo  !  a  statelier  pile,  the  Abbey  of  St  Bees.* 


There  are1  the  naked  clothed,  the  hungry  fed ; 
And  Charity  extendeth2  to  the  dead 
Her  intercessions  made  for  the  soul's  rest 
Of  tardy  penitents ;  or  for  the  best 
Among  the  good  (when  love  might  else  have  slept, 
Sickened,  or  died)  in  pious  memory  kept. 
Thanks  to  the  austere  and  simple  Devotees, 
Who,  to  that  service  bound  by  venial  fees, 
Keep  watch  before  the  altars  of  St  Bees. 


1  1837. 

There  were       .        .        .        .  .  1835. 

2  1837. 

extended          .         .  1335. 

*  See  the  extract  from  Nicholson  and  Burns's  History  of  Cumberland,  in 
Wordsworth's  note,  p.  341.— ED. 


STANZAS  SUGGESTED  IN  A  STEAM-BOAT.  345 

Are1  not,  in  sooth,  their  Requiems  sacred  ties* 

Woven  out  of  passion's  sharpest  agonies, 

Subdued,  composed,  and  formalized  by  art, 

To  fix  a  wiser  sorrow  in  the  heart  ? 

The  prayer  for  them  whose  hour  is  past  away 

Says2  to  the  Living,  profit  while  ye  may ! 

A  little  part,  and  that  the  worst,  he  sees 

Who  thinks  that  priestly  cunning  holds  the  keys 

That  best  unlock  the  secrets  of  St  Bees. 

Conscience,  the  timid  being's  inmost  light, 
Hope  of  the  dawn  and  solace  of  the  night, 
Cheers  these  Recluses  with  a  steady  ray 
In  many  an  hour  when  judgment  goes  astray. 

1  1837. 

Were 1535. 

2  1837. 

was  past  away 
Said 1835. 

*  I  am  aware  that  I  am  here  treading  upon  tender  ground ;  but  to  the 
intelligent  reader  I  feel  that  no  apology  is  due.  The  prayers  of  survivors, 
during  passionate  grief  for  the  recent  loss  of  relatives  and  friends,  as  the 
object  of  those  prayers  could  no  longer  be  the  suffering  body  of  the  dying, 
would  naturally  be  ejaculated  for  the  souls  of  the  departed ;  the  barriers 
between  the  two  worlds  dissolving  before  the  power  of  love  and  faith.  The 
ministers  of  religion,  from  their  habitual  attendance  upon  sick-beds,  would 
be  daily  witnesses  of  these  benign  results ;  and  hence  would  be  strongly 
tempted  to  aim  at  giving  to  them  permanence,  by  embodying  them  in  rites 
and  ceremonies,  recurring  at  stated  periods.  All  this,  as  it  was  in  course 
of  nature,  so  was  it  blameless,  and  even  praiseworthy ;  since  some  of  its 
effects,  in  that  rude  state  of  society,  could  not  but  be  salutary.  No  reflect- 
ing person,  however,  can  view  without  sorrow  the  abuses  which  rose  out  of 
thus  formalising  sublime  instincts,  and  disinterested  movements  of  passion, 
and  perverting  them  into  means  of  gratifying  the  ambition  and  rapacity  of 
the  priesthood.  But,  while  we  deplore  and  are  indignant  at  these  abuses, 
it  would  be  a  great  mistake  if  we  imputed  the  origin  of  the  offices  to 
prospective  selfishness  on  the  part  of  the  monks  and  clergy  :  they  were  at 
first  sincere  in  their  sympathy,  and  in  their  degree  dupes  rather  of  their 
own  creed,  than  artful  and  designing  men.  Charity  is,  upon  the  whole, 
the  safest  guide  that  we  can  take  in  judging  our  fellow-men,  whether  of 
past  ages,  or  of  the  present  time. — W.  W.,  1835. 


346  STANZAS  SUGGESTED  IN  A  STEAM-BOAT. 

Ah !  scorn  not  hastily  their  rule  who  try 
Earth  to  despise,  and  flesh  to  mortify ; 
Consume  with  zeal,  in  winged  ecstasies 
Of  prayer  and  praise  forget  their  rosaries, 
Nor  hear  the  loudest  surges  of  St  Bees. 

Yet  none  so  prompt  to  succour  and  protect 
The  forlorn  traveller,  or  sailor  wrecked 
On  the  bare  coast ;  nor  do  they  grudge  the  boon 
Which  staff  and  cockle  hat  and  sandal  shoon 
Claim  for  the  pilgrim :  and,  though  chidings  sharp 
May  sometimes  greet  the  strolling  minstrel's  harp, 
It  is  not  then  when,  swept  with  sportive  ease, 
It  charms  a  feast  day  throng  of  all  degrees, 
Brightening  the  archway  of  revered  St  Bees. 

How  did  the  cliffs  and  echoing  hills  rejoice 
What  time  the  Benedictine  Brethren's  voice, 
Imploring,  or  commanding  with  meet  pride, 
Summoned  the  Chiefs  to  lay  their  feuds  aside, 
And  under  one  blest  ensign  serve  the  Lord 
In  Palestine.     Advance,  indignant  Sword  ! 
Flaming  till  thou  from  Panym  hands  release 
That  tomb,  dread  centre  of  all  sanctities 
Nursed  in  the  quiet  Abbey  of  St  Bees. 

But  look  we  now  to  them  whose  minds  from  far1 
Follow  the  fortunes  which  they  may  not  share. 
While  in  Judea  Fancy  loves  to  roam, 
She  helps  to  make  a  Holy-land  at  home : 

1  1837. 

On,  Champions,  on  ! — But  mark  !  the  passing  Day 

Submits  her  intercourse  to  milder  sway, 

With  high  and  low  whose  busy  thoughts  from  far 

Follow  1835. 


STANZAS  SUGGESTED  IN  A  STEAM-BOAT.  347 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem  from  its  sphere  invites 
To  sound  the  crystal  depth  of  maiden  rights ; 
And  wedded  Life,  through  scriptural  mysteries, 
Heavenward  ascends  with  all  her  charities, 
Taught  by  the  hooded  Celibates  of  St  Bees. 

Nor  be  it  e'er  forgotten  how  by  skill 

Of  cloistered  Architects,  free  their  souls  to  fill 

With  love  of  God,  throughout  the  Land  were  raised 

Churches,  on  whose  symbolic  beauty  gazed 

Peasant  and  mail-clad  Chief  with  pious  awe  ; 

As  at  this  day  men  seeing  what  they  saw, 

Or  the  bare  wreck  of  faith's  solemnities, 

Aspire  to  more  than  earthly  destinies ; 

Witness  yon  Pile  that  greets  us  from  St  Bees. 

Yet  more  ;  around  those  Churches,  gathered  Towns* 

Safe  from  the  feudal  Castle's  haughty  frowns ; 

Peaceful  abodes,  where  Justice  might  uphold 

Her  scales  with  even  hand,  and  culture  mould 

The  heart  to  pity,  train  the  mind  in  care 

For  rules  of  life,  sound  as  the  Time  could  bear. 

Nor  dost  thou  fail,  thro'  abject  love  of  ease, 

Or  hindrance  raised  by  sordid  purposes, 

To  bea,r  thy  part  in  this  good  work,  St  Bees.t 

Who  with  the  ploughshare  clove  the  barren  moors, 
And  to  green  meadows  changed  the  swampy  shores  ? 
Thinned  the  rank  woods ;  and  for  the  cheerful  grange 
Made  room  where  wolf  and  boar  were  used  to  range  ? 

*  See    "The   English  Town"  in  Green's  Short  History  of  the  English 
People,  ch.  iv.,  sec.  4. — ED. 
t  This  stanza  and  the  one  preceding  were  added  in  1845. — ED. 


348  STANZAS  SUGGESTED  IN  A  STEAM-BOAT. 

Who  taught,  and  showed  by  deeds,  that  gentler  chains 
Should  bind  the  vassal  to  his  lord's  domains  ? 
The  thoughtful  Monks,  intent  their  God  to  please, 
For  Christ's  dear  sake,  by  human  sympathies 
Poured  from  the  bosom  of  thy  Church,  St  Bees  ! 

But  all  availed  not ;  by  a  mandate  given 

Through  lawless  will  the  Brotherhood  was  driven 

Forth  from  their  cells ;  their  ancient  House  laid  low 

In  Eeformation's  sweeping  overthrow. 

But  now  once  more  the  local  Heart  revives, 

The  inextinguishable  Spirit  strives. 

Oh  may  that  Power  who  hushed  the  stormy  seas, 

And  cleared  a  way  for  the  first  Votaries, 

Prosper  the  new-born  College  of  St  Bees  !  ""* 

Alas !  the  Genius  of  our  age,  from  Schools 

Less  humble,  draws  her  lessons,  aims,  and  rules. 

To  Prowess  guided  by  her  insight  keen 

Matter  and  Spirit  are  as  one  Machine ; 

Boastful  Idolatress  of  formal  skill 

She  in  her  own  would  merge  the  eternal  will : 

Better,1  if  Reason's  triumphs  match  with  these, 

Her  flight  before  the  bold  credulities 

That  furthered  the  first  teaching  of  St  Bees.t 

1  1837. 

will: 

Expert  to  move  in  paths  that  Newton  trod, 

From  Newton's  Universe  would  banish  God. 

Better, 1835. 

*  This  College  was  founded  for  the  education  of  clerks  in  holy  orders 
who  did  not  mean  to  proceed  to  Oxford  or  Cambridge. — ED. 

t  See  Excursion,  seventh  part ;  and  Ecclesiastical  Sketches,  second  part, 
near  the  beginning. — W.  W. 

The  passages  referred  to  are  the  following  :  Excursion,  Book  VII.  1.  1118, 
&c.,  beginning 

"The  courteous  knight," 

and  alluding  to  Sir  Alfred  Irthing ;  Ecclesiastical  Sonnets,  II.  3,  4,  5,  Cis- 
tercian Monastery,  and  Monks  and  Schoolmen. — ED. 


AT  SEA  OFF  THE  ISLE  OF  MAN.         349 


XII. 


THE  CHANNEL,  BETWEEN  THE  COAST  OF 
CUMBERLAND  AND  THE  ISLE  OF  MAN. 

RANGING  the  heights  of  Scawfell  or  Black-comb, 
In  his  lone  course  the  Shepherd  oft  will  pause, 
And  strive  to  fathom  the  mysterious  laws 
By  which  the  clouds,  arrayed  in  light  or  gloom, 
On  Mona  settle,  and  the  shapes  assume 
Of  all  her  peaks  and  ridges.*     What  he  draws 
From  sense,  faith,  reason,  fancy,  of  the  cause, 
He  will  take  with  him  to  the  silent  tomb. 
Or,  by  his  fire,  a  child  upon  his  knee, 
Haply  the  untaught  Philosopher  may  speak 
Of  the  strange  sight,  nor  hide  his  theory 
That  satisfies  the  simple  and  the  meek, 
Blest  in  their  pious  ignorance,  though  weak 
To  cope  with  Sages  undevoutly  free. 


XIII. 

AT  SEA  OFF  THE  ISLE  OF  MAN. 

BOLD  words  affirmed,  in  days  when  faith  was  strong 
And  doubts  and  scruples  seldom  teazed  the  brain, 


*  Compare  the  View  from  the  top  of  Black  Comb  (Vol.  IV.  p.  268) ;  also 
the  Inscription,  Written  with  a  slate-pencil  on  a  stone,  on  the  side  of  the 
mountain  of  Black  Comb  (Vol.  IV.  p.  270). 

The  atmospheric  phenomena  referred  to  in  the  Sonnet  are  frequently  seen 
from  the  Cumberland  hills,  overspreading  the  peaks  and  ridges  of  the  Isle 
of  Man ;  and  a  similar  appearance  is  often  visible  on  the  Cumbrian  hills, 
as  seen  from  Mona. — ED. 


350  DESIRE  WE  PAST  ILLUSIONS  TO  RECAL  ? 

That *  no  adventurer's  bark  had  power  to  gain 

These  shores  if  he  approached  them  bent  on  wrong ; 

For,  suddenly  up-conjured  from  the  Mam, 

Mists  rose  to  hide  the  Land — that  search,  though  long 

And  eager,  might  be  still  pursued  in  vain. 

0  Fancy,  what  an  age  was  that  for  song ! 

That  age,  when  not  by  laws  inanimate, 

As  men  believed,  the  waters  were  impelled, 

The  air  controlled,  the  stars  their  courses  held ; 

But  element  and  orb  on  acts  did  wait 

Of  Powers  endued  with  visible  form,  instinct 

With  will,  and  to  their  work  by  passion  linked. 


XIV. 

DESIRE  we  past  illusions  to  recal  ? 

To  reinstate  wild  Fancy,  would  we  hide 

Truths  whose  thick  veil  Science  has  drawn  aside  ? 

No, — let  this  Age,  high  as  she  may,  instal 

In  her  esteem  the  thirst  that  wrought  man's  fall, 

The  universe  is  infinitely  wide ; 

And  conquering  Eeason,  if  self -glorified, 

Can  nowhere  move  uncrossed  by  some  new  wall 

Or  gulf  of  mystery,  which  thou  alone, 

Imaginative  Faith  !  canst  overleap, 

In  progress  toward  the  fount  of  Love, — the  throne 

Of  Power  whose  ministers  the  2  records  keep 

Of  periods  fixed,  and  laws  established,  less 

Flesh  to  exalt  than  prove  its  nothingness. 

1  1837. 

strong, 

That 1835. 

2  1837. 

Of  Power,  whose  ministering  Spirits       .         .          1835. 


ON  ENTERING  DOUGLAS  BAY,  ISLE  OF  MAN.        351 

XV. 

ON  ENTEKING  DOUGLAS  BAY,  ISLE  OF  MAN. 
'  Dignum  laude  virum  Musa  vetat  mori.' 

THE  feudal  Keep,  the  bastions  of  Cohorn,* 
Even  when  they  rose  to  check  or  to  repel 
Tides  of  aggressive  war,  oft  served  as  well 
Greedy  ambition,  armed  to  treat  with  scorn 
Just  limits ;  but  yon  Tower,  whose  smiles  adorn 
This  perilous  bay,  stands  clear  of  all  offence ; 
Blest  work  it  is  of  love  and  innocence, 
A  Tower  of  refuge  built  for  the  else  forlorn.1 
Spare  it,  ye  waves,  and  lift  the  mariner, 
Struggling  for  life,  into  its  saving  arms  ! 
Spare,  too,  the  human  helpers !     Do  they  stir 
'Mid  your  fierce  shock  like  men  afraid  to  die  ? 
No ;  their  dread  service  nerves  the  heart  it  warms, 
And  they  are  led  by  noble  HILLARY.! 

1  1845. 

A  tower  of  refuge  to  the  else  forlorn.  1835. 

*  Baron  Menno  van  Cohorn  (or  Coehoorn)  was  a  Dutch  military  engineer 
of  genius  (1641-1704).  His  fame  rests  on  discoveries  connected  with 
the  effect  of  projectiles  on  fortifications.  His  practical  successes  against  the 
French,  under  Vauban,  were  great ;  and  the  fortifications  he  designed 
and  constructed,  of  which  that  of  Bergen-op-Zoom  was  the  chief,  give  him  a 
place  in  the  history  of  military  science,  greater  than  that  derived  from  his 
writings.  He  devised  a  kind  of  small  mortar  or  howitzer,  for  use  in  siege 
operations,  which  is  named  after  him  a  Cohorn. — ED. 

t  The  TOWER  of  REFUGE,  an  ornament  to  Douglas  Bay,  was  erected 
chiefly  through  the  humanity  and  zeal  of  Sir  William  Hillary  ;  and  he  also 
was  the  founder  of  the  lifeboat  establishment,  at  that  place ;  by  which, 
under  his  superintendence,  and  often  by  his  exertions  at  the  imminent 
hazard  of  his  own  life,  many  seamen  and  passengers  have  been  saved. — 
W.  W.,  1835. 

In  Dorothy  Wordsworth's  Journal  of  a  visit  to  the  Isle  of  Man  in  1826, 
the  following  occurs :— "  Monday,  July  3rd.— Sir  William  Hillary  saved 
a  boy's  life  to-day  in  harbour.  He  raised  a  regiment  for  government,  and 
chose  his  own  reward,  viz.,  a  Baronetcy  !  and  now  lives  here  on  £300  per 
annum,  &c.,  &c." — ED. 


352  ISLE  OF  MAN. 


XVI. 
BY  THE  SEA-SHOEE,  ISLE  OF  MAK 

WHY  stand  we  gazing  on  the  sparkling  Brine, 
With  wonder  smit  by  its  transparency 
And  all-enraptured  with  its  purity  ? — 
Because  the  unstained,  the  clear,  the  crystalline, 
Have  ever  in  them  something  of  benign ; 
Whether  in  gem,  in  water,  or  in  sky, 
A  sleeping  infant's  brow,  or  wakeful  eye 
Of  a  young  maiden,  only  not  divine. 
Scarcely  the  hand  forbears  to  dip  its  palm 
For  beverage  drawn  as  from  a  mountain-well ; 
Temptation  centres  in  the  liquid  Calm ; 
Our  daily  raiment  seems  no  obstacle 
To  instantaneous  plunging  in,  deep  Sea ! 
And  revelling  in  long  embrace  with  thee.* 


XVII. 

ISLE  OF  MAR 

[My  son  William  t  is  here  the  person  alluded  to  as  saving  the  life  of 
the  youth,  and  the  circumstances  were  as  mentioned  in  the  Sonnet.] 

A  YOUTH  too  certain  of  his  power  to  wade 
On  the  smooth  bottom  of  this  clear  bright  sea,1 

1  1835. 

that  his  feet  could  wade 
At  will  the  flow  of  this  pellucid  sea.  MS. 

On  the  smooth  bottom  of  this  clear  blue  sea.  MS. 

*  The  sea- water  on  the  coast  of  the  Isle  of  Man  is  singularly  pure  and 
beautiful.— W.  W. 

t  But  it  was  his  son  John,  and  not  William,  who  accompanied  the  poet 
in  this  Tour.  See  the  first  Fenwick  note  (p.  332.)— ED. 


ISLE  OF  MAN.  353 

To  sight  so  shallow,  with  a  bather's  glee 

Leapt  from  this  rock,  and  but  for  timely  aid 

He,  by  the  alluring  element  betrayed, 

Had  perished.     Then  might  Sea-nymphs  (and  with  sighs 

Of  self-reproach)  have  chanted  elegies* 

Bewailing  his  sad  fate,  when  he  was  laid x 

In  peaceful  earth :  for,  doubtless,  he  was  frank, 

Utterly  in  himself  devoid  of  guile ; 

Knew  not  the  double-dealing  of  a  smile ; 

Nor  aught  that  makes  men's  promises  a  blank, 

Or  deadly  snare :  and  he  survives  to  bless 

The  Power  that  saved  him  in  his  strange  distress. 


xvni. 
ISLE  OF  MAN.2 

DID  3  pangs  of  grief  for  lenient  time  too  keen, 
Grief  that  devouring  waves  had  caused — or  guilt 4 

1  1837. 

Leapt  from  this  rock,  and  surely,  had  not  aid 

Been  near,  must  soon  have  breathed  out  life,  betrayed 

By  fondly  trusting  to  an  element 

Fair,  and  to  others  more  than  innocent ; 

Then  had  sea-nymphs  sung  dirges  for  him  laid        1835. 

2  1837. 

The  Eetired  Marine  Officer,  Isle  of  Man.  1835. 

3  1837. 

Not 1835. 

4  1837. 

nor  guilt  1835. 

'  Compare  Ariel's  Song  in  The  Tempest,  Act  i.,  Sc.  2— 

"  Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change 
Into  something  rich  and  strange. 
Sea-nymphs  hourly  ring  his  knell."  —ED. 

VII.  Z 


354  BY  A  RETIRED  MARINER. 

Which  they  had  witnessed, — sway l  the  man  who  built 

This  Homestead,  placed  where  nothing  could  be  seen, 

Nought  heard,  of  ocean  troubled  or  serene  ? 

A  tired  Ship-soldier  on  paternal  land,2 

That  o'er  the  channel  holds  august  command, 

The  3  dwelling  raised, — a  veteran  Marine.* 

He,  in  disgust,  turn'd  from  the  neighbouring  sea 

To  shun  the  memory  of  a  listless  life 

That  hung  between  two  callings.     May  no  strife 

More  hurtful  here  beset  him,  doomed  though  free, 

Self-doomed,  to  worse  inaction,  till  his  eye 

Shrink  from  the  daily  sight  of  earth  and  sky ! 


XIX. 

BY  A  EETIEED  MAEINERt 

(A  FRIEND  OF  THE  AUTHOR.) 

[Mrs  Wordsworth's  Brother,  Henry.  J] 

FROM  early  youth  I  ploughed  the  restless  Main, 
My  mind  as  restless  and  as  apt  to  change ; 
Through  every  clime  and  ocean  did  I  range, 
In  hope  at  length  a  competence  to  gain ; 

1  1837. 

swayed        .        .        .  1835. 

2  1835. 

No — a  Ship-soldier 1837. 

3  1845. 

Who, 1835. 

*  Henry  Hutchinson.     See  the  Fenwick  note  to  the  next  Sonnet. — ED. 

t  This  unpretending  Sonnet  is  by  a  gentleman  nearly  connected  with  me, 
and  I  hope,  as  it  falls  so  easily  into  its  place,  that  both  the  writer  and  the 
reader  will  excuse  its  appearance  here. — W.  W.,  1835. 

J  Mr  Henry  Hutchinson,  Mrs  Wordsworth's  brother,  was — the  Bishop  of 
Lincoln  tells  us — "a  person  of  great  originality  and  vigour  of  mind,  a 
very  enterprising  sailor,  and  a  writer  of  verses  distinguished  by  no  ordinary 
merit."— See  the  Memoirs  of  W.  W.,  Vol.  II.,  p.  246.— ED. 


AT  BALA-SALA,  ISLE  OF  MAN.  355 

For  poor  to  Sea  I  went,  and  poor  I  still  remain. 

Year  after  year  I  strove,  but  strove  in  vain, 

And  hardships  manifold  did  I  endure, 

For  Fortune  on  me  never  deign' d  to  smile ; 

Yet  I  at  last  a  resting-place  have  found, 

With  just  enough  life's  comforts  to  procure, 

In  a  snug  Cove  on  this  our  favoured  Isle, 

A  peaceful  spot  where  Nature's  gifts  abound ; 

Then  sure  I  have  no  reason  to  complain, 

Though  poor  to  Sea  I  went,  and  poor  I  still  remain. 


xx. 
AT  BALA-SALA,  ISLE  OF  MAN. 

(SUPPOSED  TO  BE  WRITTEN  BY  A  FRIEND.) 

[Supposed  to  be  written  by  a  friend  (Mr  Cookson)  who  died  there  a 
few  years  after.] 

BROKEN  in  fortune,  but  in  mind  entire 

And  sound  in  principle,  I  seek  repose 

Where  ancient  trees  this  convent-pile  enclose,* 

In  ruin  beautiful.      When  vain  desire 

Intrudes  on  peace,  I  pray  the  eternal  Sire 

To  cast  a  soul-subduing  shade  on  me, 

A  grey-haired,  pensive,  thankful  Refugee  ; 

A  shade — but  with  some  sparks  of  heavenly  fire 

Once  to  these  cells  vouchsafed.1     And  when  I  note 

The  old  Tower's  brow  yellowed  as  with  the  beams 

Of  sunset  ever  there,  t  albeit  streams  2 

1  1835. 

with  such  sparks  of  holy  fire 


1835. 


As  once  were  cherished  here,        .        .        .  MS. 

and  know  that  streams  MS. 


*  Rushen  Abbey.  -W.  W. 

t  The  "old  Tower"  is  that  of  Rushen  Abbey,  close  to  Bala  Sala,  the 
latest  dissolved  monastery  in  the   British    Isles.     Little  of   it  survives; 


356  TYNWALD  HILL. 

Of  stormy  weather-stains  that  semblance  wrought, 

I  thank  the  silent  Monitor,  and  say 

"  Shine  so,  my  aged  brow;  at  all  hours  of  the  day  !" 


XXL 
TYNWALD  HILL. 

[Mr  Kobinson  and  I  walked  the  greater  part  of  the  way  from 
Castle-town  to  Piel,  and  stopped  some  time  at  Tynwald  Hill.  One  of 
my  companions  was  an  elderly  man  who,  in  a  muddy  way  (for  he  was 
tipsy),  explained  and  answered,  as  far  as  he  could,  my  enquiries  about 
this  place  and  the  ceremonies  held  here.  I  found  more  agreeable 
company  in  some  little  children ;  one  of  whom,  upon  my  request, 
recited  the  Lord's  Prayer  to  me,  and  I  helped  her  to  a  clearer  under- 
standing of  it  as  well  as  I  could ;  but  I  was  not  at  all  satisfied  with 
my  own  part ;  hers  was  much  better  done,  and  I  am  persuaded  that, 
like  other  children,  she  knew  more  about  it  than  she  was  able  to 
express,  especially  to  a  stranger.] 

ONCE  on  the  top  of  Tynwald's  formal  mound l 
(Still  marked  with  green  turf  circles  narrowing  * 

1  1835. 

Once  on  the  top  of  Tynwald  Hill  (a  mound  MS. 

Time  was  when  on  the  top  of  yon  small  mound 
(Still  marked  with  circles  duly  narrowing 

Each  above  each) MS. 

Would  sit  by  solemn  usage  robed  and  crowned, 
While  compassing  the  grassy  mount  around,  MS. 

Sate  'mid  the  assembled  people  robed  and  crowned,     MS. 

only  the  tower,  refectory,  and  dormitory.  The  tower  is  still  yellowed  with 
lichen  stains.  The  following  occurs  in  one  of  Mr  H.'C.  Robinson's  letters  on 
the  Italian  Tour  of  1837  : — "  This  reminds  me  that  I  was  once  privy  to  the. 
conception  of  a  Sonnet  with  a  distinctness  which  did  not  once  occur  on  the 
longer  Italian  journey.  This  was  when  I  accompanied  him  into  the  Isle 
of  Man.  We  had  been  drinking  tea  with  Mr  and  Mrs  Cookson,  and  left 
them  when  the  weather  was  dull.  Very  soon  after  leaving  them  we  passed 
the  Church  Tower  of  Bala-Sala.  The  upper  part  of  the  tower  had  a  sort 
of  frieze  of  yellow  lichens.  Mr  W.  pointed  it  out  to  me,  and  said, 
'It's  a  perpetual  sunshine.'  I  thought  no  more  of  it  till  I  had  read  the 
beautif  ul  sonnet, 

'  Broken  in  fortune,  but  in  mind  entire.'  " 

-ED. 

*  The  ground  at  Tynwald  Hill  (as  it  is  called)  remains  unchanged. 


TYNWALD  HILL.  357 

Stage  above  stage)  would  sit  this  Island's  King, 
The  laws  to  promulgate,  enrobed  and  crowned ; 
While,  compassing  the  little  mount  around, 
Degrees  and  Orders  stood,  each  under  each : 
Now,  like  to  things  within  fate's  easiest  reach,1 
The  power  is  merged,  the  pomp  a  grave  has  found. 
Off  with  yon  cloud,2  old  Snafell !  *  that  thine  eye 
Over  three  Realms  may  take  its  widest  range ; 
And  let,  for  them,  thy  fountains  utter  strange 
Voices,  thy  winds  break  forth  in  prophecy, 
If  the  whole  State  must  suffer  mortal  change, 
Like  Mona's  miniature  of  sovereignty. 

1  1835. 

Now  like  a  thing  within  Fate's  easiest  reach,  MS. 

2  1835. 

Off  with  those  clouds,        ....  MS. 

Here,  on  a  small  plot  of  ground,  the  whole  Manx  people  meet  annually  on 
Midsummer  Day,  July  5th,  to  appoint  officers  and  enact  new  laws.  The 
first  historical  notice  of  these  meetings  is  in  1417.  The  name  Tynwald  is 
derived  from  the  Scandinavian  thing,  "  court  of  justice,"  and  wald, 
"fenced."  The  mound  is  only  12  feet  high,  rising  by  four  circular  plat- 
forms, each  3  feet  higher  than  the  one  below  it.  The  circumference  at  the 
base  is  240  feet,  and  at  the  top  18  feet.  It  used  once  to  be  walled  round, 
and  had  two  gates.  The  approach  now  is  by  twenty-one  steps  cut  in  the 
turf.— ED. 

*  The  summit  of  this  mountain  is  well  chosen  by  Cowley  as  the  scene  of 
the  "Vision"  in  which  the  spectral  angel  discourses  with  him  concerning 
the  government  of  Oliver  Cromwell.  "I  found  myself,"  says  he,  "on  the 
top  of  that  famous  hill  in  the  Island  Mona,  which  has  the  prospect  of 
three  great,  and  not  long  since  most  happy,  kingdoms.  As  soon  as  ever  I 
looked  upon  them,  they  called  forth  the  sad  representation  of  all  the  sins 
and  all  the  miseries  that  had  overwhelmed  them  these  twenty  years."  It 
is  not  to  be  denied  that  the  changes  now  in  progress,  and  the  passions,  and 
the  way  in  which  they  work,  strikingly  resemble  those  which  led  to  the 
disasters  the  philosophic  writer  so  feelingly  bewails.  God  grant  that  the 
resemblance  may  not  become  still  more  striking  as  months  and  years 
advance  !— W.  W.,  1835. 

The  top  of  Snaefell  (which  Wordsworth  names  "Snafell"),  the  highest 
mountain  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  whence  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland  are  to 
be  seen,  as  mentioned  in  the  Sonnet,  is  not  visible  from  Tynwald  Hill.— ED. 


IN  THE  FIRTH  OF  C1.Y1M-.  All.*  A  CB 


XXII. 

DESPOND  who  will — 7  hoard  a  voice  exclaim, 

"  Though  fierce  the  assault,  and  shattor'd  the  defence.1 

It  cannot  be  that  Britain's  social  frame. 

The  glorious  work  of  time  and  providence, 

Before  a  flying  season's  rash  pretence,2 

Should  fall ;  that  She,  whose  virtue  put  to  shame, 

When  Europe  prostrate  lay,  the  Conqueror's  aim. 

Should  perish,  self-subverted.      Black  and  dense 

The  cloud  is ;  but  brings  that  a  day  of  doom 

To  Liberty  ?     Her  sun  is  up  the  while. s 

That  orb  whose  beams  round  Saxon  Alfred  shone  : 

Then  laugh,  ye  innocent  Vales!  ye  Strean>   - 

Nor  let  one  billow  of  our  heaven-blest  Isle  * 

Toss  in  the  fanning  wind  a  humbler  plume." 


XXIII. 

IN  THE  FE1TH  OF  CLYDE.  All  -          lAG. 

DURING  AH  ECLIPSE  OF  THE  SUS,   JULY    17. 

[The  morning  of  the  eclipse  me  exquisitely  beautiful  while  we 
passed  the  Crag  as  described  in  the  Sonnet.  On  the  deck  of  the 
steam-boat  were  several  persons  of  the  poor  and  labouring  class,  and  I 
could  not  but  be  struck  by  their  cheerful  talk  with  each  other,  while 


(Bear  voices  from  pure  worlds  of  hope  exclaim 

Tho'  fierce  the  assault,  and  shattered  the  defence,      us. 

-  MM. 

Before  A  season's  calculating  sense,  MS. 


the  sun  is  up        .        .  MX 

of  tiiis  heaven-We*:  MS 


IN  THE  FIRTH  OF  CLYDE,  AILSA  CRAG.  359 

not  one  of  them  seemed  to  notice  the  ina-jniliivnt  objects  with  \\hieh 
we  were  surrounded;  and  even  the  phenomenon  of  the  eclipse  Attracted 
but  little  of  their  attention.  Was  it  right  not  to  regret  this  I  They 
appeared  to  me,  however,  so  much  alive  in  their  own  minds  to  tin-M- 
own concerns  that  I  could  not  look  upon  it  as  a  misfortune  that  thev 
had  little  perception  for  such  pleasures  as  cannot  be  cultivated  \\ithout, 
ease  and  leisure.  Yet,  if  one  surveys  life  in  all  its  duties  ami  relations, 
such  ease  and  leisure  will  not  be  found  so  enviable  a  privilege  as  it 
may  at  first  appear.  Natural  Philosophy,  Painting,  and  Poetry,  and 
refined  taste  are  no  doubt  great  acquisitions  to  society ;  but  among 
those  who  dedicate  themselves  to  such  pursuits,  it  is  to  be  feared  that, 
few  are  as  happy,  and  as  consistent  in  the  management  of  their  lives, 
as  the  class  of  persons  who  at  that  time  led  me  into  this  course  of 
reflection.  I  do  not  mean  by  this  to  be  understood  to  derogate  from 
intellectual  pursuits,  for  that  would  be  monstrous  :  I  say  it  in  deep 
gratitude  for  this  compensation  to  those  whose  cares  are  limited  to  the 
necessities  of  daily  life.  Among  them,  self-tormentors,  so  numerous  in 
the  higher  classes  of  society,  are  rare.] 

SINCE  risen  from  ocean,  ocean  to  defy, 

Appeared  the  Crag  of  Ailsa,  ne'er  did  morn 

With  gleaming  lights  more  gracefully  adorn 

His  sides,  or  wreathe  with  mist  his  forehead  high : 

Now,  faintly  darkening  with  the  sun's  eclipse,* 

Still  is  he  seen,  in  lone  sublimity, 

Towering  above  the  sea  and  little  ships ; 

For  dwarfs  the  tallest  seem  while  sailing  by, 

Each  for  her  haven ;  with  her  freight  of  Care, 

Pleasure,  or  Grief,  and  Toil  that  seldom  looks 

Into  the  secret  of  to-morrow's  fare ; 

Though  poor,  yet  rich,  without  the  wealth  of  books 

Or  aught  that  watchful  Love  to  Nature  owes 

For  her  mute  Powers,  fix'd  Forms,  or1  transient  Shows. 

1  1837. 

,  and        .        .          1835. 

*  Compare  The  Eclipse  of  the  Sun,  1820,  in  the  "Memorials  of  a  Tour 
on  the  Continent,  1820"  (Vol.  VI.,  p.  253).— ED. 


360  ON  THE  FIRTH  OF  CLYDE. 

XXIV. 

ON  THE  FKITH  OF  CLYDE. 

(IN  A  STEAM-BOAT.) 

[The  mountain  outline  on  the  north  of  this  island,  as  seen  from  the 
Frith  of  Clyde,*  is  much  the  finest  I  have  ever  noticed  in  Scotland  or 
elsewhere.] 

ARRAN  !  a  single-crested  Teneriffe, 
A  St  Helena  next — in  shape  and  hue, 
Varying  her  crowded  peaks  and  ridges  blue ; 
Who  but  must  covet  a  cloud-seat,  or  skiff 
Built  for  the  air,  or  winged  Hippogriff  ? 
That  he  might  fly,  where  no  one  could  pursue, 
From  this  dull  Monster  and  her  sooty  crew ; 
And,  as1  a  God,  light  on  thy  topmost  cliff. 
Impotent  wish  !  which  reason  would  despise 
If  the  mind  knew  no  union  of  extremes, 
No  natural  bond  between  the  boldest  schemes 
Ambition  frames,  and  heart-humilities,  t 
Beneath  stern  mountains  many  a  soft  vale  lies, 
And  lofty  springs  give  birth  to  lowly  streams. 

1  issr. 

And,  like 1835. 

*  Doubtless  he  refers  to  the  view  of  Goatfell   and    Kaim-na-Callaich, 
with  Loch  Ranza  in  front. — ED. 
t  Compare  The  Triad,  p.  284— 

"  High  is  her  aim  as  heaven  above, 
And  wide  as  ether  her  good  will ; 
And,  like  the  lowly  reed,  her  love 
Can  drink  its  nurture  from  the  scantiest  rill. " 

—ED. 


ON  REVISITING  DUNOLLY  CASTLE.  361 

XXV. 

ON  BEVISITING  DUNOLLY  CASTLE* 
(See  former  series,  "  Yarrow  Eevisited,"  &c.,  p.  281.) 

THE  captive  Bird  was  gone ; — to  cliff  or  moor 
Perchance  had  flown,  delivered  by  the  storm ; 
Or  he  had  pined,  and  sunk  to  feed  the  worm : 
Him  found  we  not :  but,  climbing  a  tall  tower, 
There  saw,  impaved  with  rude  fidelity 
Of  art  mosaic,  in  a  roofless  floor,1 
An  Eagle  with  stretched  wings,  but  beamless  eye — 
An  Eagle  that  could  neither  wail  nor  soar. 
Effigy2  of  the  Vanished — (shall  I  dare 
To  call  thee  so  ?)  or  symbol  of  fierce  deeds 
And  of  the  towering  courage  which  past  times 
Kejoiced  in — take,  whate'er  thou  be,  a  share,3 


1  1835. 

Espied  an  old  mosaic  effigy 

Set  in  a  roofless  chamber's  pavement  floor,  MS. 

2  1837. 

Shade  of  the  poor  Departed       ...  MS. 

Effigies  of  the  Vanished        ....  1835. 

3  1837. 

or  symbol  of  past  times, 
That  towering  courage,  and  the  savage  deeds 
Those  times  were  proud  of,  take  Thou  too  a  share,  1835. 

Their  towering  courage,  and  the  savage  deeds 

Which  they  were  proud  of,        ....         MS. 

*  This  ingenious  piece  of  workmanship,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  had  been 
executed  for  their  own  amusement  by  some  labourers  employed  about  the 
place.  — W.  W.,  1835. 


362  THE  DUNOLLY  EAGLE. 

Not  undeserved,  of  the  memorial  rhymes 
That  animate  iny  way  where'er  it  leads ! 

Lieutenant-Colonel  M'Dougal  of  Dunolie  writes  to  me  (October 
1883)  that  "  the  mosaic  picture  of  an  eagle — if  it  may  be  called  so — still 
exists,  though  it  is  rather  a  rude  work  of  art.  I  believe  it  was 
executed  by  a  gardener,  who  was  here  about  the  time  of  Wordsworth's 
visit.  It  was  made  of  small  stones,  and  is  now  a  good  deal  overgrown 
with  weeds,  moss,  &c.,  as  the  second  story  of  the  old  ruin  is  open  to 
the  weather.  An  eagle  was  for  many  years  kept  in  a  cage,  made 
against  a  wall  of  the  ruin,  and  this  no  doubt  was  the  cause  of  the  rude 
picture  being  made." — ED. 


XXVI, 

THE  DUNOLLY  EAGLE. 

NOT  to  the  clouds,  not  to  the  cliff,  he  flew ; 
But  when  a  storm,  on  sea  or  mountain  bred, 
Came  and  delivered  him,  alone  he  sped 
Into  the  castle- dungeon's  darkest  mew. 
Now,  near  his  master's  house  in  open  view 
He  dwells,  and  hears  indignant  tempests  howl, 
Kennelled  and  chained.     Ye  tame  domestic  fowl,1 
Beware  of  him !     Thou,  saucy  cockatoo, 
Look  to  thy  plumage  and  thy  life  ! — The  roe, 
Fleet  as  the  west  wind,  is  for  him  no  quarry ; 
Balanced  in  ether  he  will  never  tarry, 
Eyeing  the  sea's  blue  depths.     Poor  Bird  !  even  so 
Doth  man  of  brother  man  a  creature  make 
That  clings  to  slavery  for  its  own  sad  sake. 

1  1855. 

Ye  tame  villatic  Fowl.  MS 


WRITTEN  IN  A  BLANK  LEAF  OF  MACPHERSON's  OSSIAN.   363 


XXVII. 

WEITTEN  IN  A  BLANK  LEAF  OF  MACPHEKSON'S 

OSSIAN.* 

Comp.  1824.     Pub.  1827. 

[The  verses 

or  strayed 
From  hope  and  promise,  self -betrayed. 

were,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  suggested  from  apprehensions  of  the  fate  of 
my  friend,  H.  C.,t  the  subject  of  the  verses  addressed  to  H.  C.  when  six 
years  old.  The  piece  to  "Memory"  arose  out  of  similar  feelings. J] 

OFT  have  I  caught,  upon  a  fitful  breeze,1 

Fragments  of  far-off  melodies, 

With  ear  not  coveting  the  whole, 

A  part  so  charmed  the  pensive  soul : 

While  a  dark  storm  before  my  sight 

Was  yielding,  on  a  mountain  height 

Loose  vapours  have  I  watched,  that  won 

Prismatic  colours  from  the  sun ; 

Nor  felt  a  wish  that  heaven  would  show 

The  image  of  its  perfect  bow. 

What  need,  then,  of  these  finished  Strains  ? 

Away  with  counterfeit  Eemains  ! 

An  abbey  in  its  lone  recess, 

A  temple  of  the  wilderness, 

Wrecks  though  they  be,  announce  with  feeling 

The  majesty  of  honest  dealing. 

1  1832. 

caught  from  fitful  breeze  1827. 

*  This  Poem  was  first  published  amongst  the  Poems  of  Sentiment  and  Re- 
flection in  the  edition  of  1827.  In  the  edition  of  1836  Wordsworth  gave 
1824  as  the  year  of  its  composition. — ED. 

t  Hartley  Coleridge. — ED. 

J  See  p.  104.— ED. 


364    WRITTEN  IN  A  BLANK  LEAF  OF  MACPHERSON's  OSSIAN. 

Spirit  of  Ossian  !  if  imbound 

In  language  thou  may'st  yet  be  found, 

If  aught  (intrusted  to  the  pen 

Or  floating  on  the  tongues  of  men, 

Albeit  shattered  and  impaired) 

Subsist  thy  dignity  to  guard, 

In  concert  with  memorial  claim 

Of  old  grey  stone,  and  high-born  name 

That  cleaves  to  rock  or  pillared  cave 

Where  moans  the  blast,  or  beats  the  wave, 

Let  Truth,  stern  arbitress  of  all, 

Interpret  that  Original, 

And  for  presumptuous  wrongs  atone ; — 

Authentic  works  be  given,  or  none  ! 

Time  is  not  blind ; — yet  He,  who  spares 
Pyramid  pointing  to  the  stars, 
Hath  preyed  with  ruthless  appetite 
On  all  that  marked  the  primal  flight 
Of  the  poetic  ecstasy 
Into  the  land  of  mystery. 
No  tongue  is  able  to  rehearse 
One  measure,  Orpheus  !  of  thy  verse  ;* 
Musaeus,  stationed  with  his  lyre 
Supreme  among  the  Elysian  quire, 
Is,  for  the  dwellers  upon  earth 
Mute  as  a  lark  ere  morning's  birth,  t 
Why  grieve  for  these,  though  past  away 
The  music,  and  extinct  the  lay  ? 

*  The  Genuine  Orphic  Literature  includes  some  Hymns,  a  Theogony, 
Oracles,  Songs,  and  Sacred  Legends,  iepbi  \byoi :  but  none  have  come  down 
to  modern  times.  The  Orphica  which  have  survived  are  spurious. — ED. 

t  None  of  the  fragments  attributed  to  Musseus  by  the  ancients — the 
'S.p-r}aij.oi,'rfTro0ijKai,  Qeoyovla,  &c. — have  survived. — ED. 


WRITTEN  IN  A  BLANK  LEAF  OF  MACPHERSON'S  OSSIAN.    365 

When  thousands,  by  severer  doom, 
Full  early  to  the  silent  tomb 
Have  sunk,  at  Nature's  call ;  or  strayed 
From  hope  and  promise,  self -betrayed ; 
The  garland  withering  on  their  brows ; 
Stung1  with  remorse  for  broken  vows ; 
Frantic — else  how  might  they  rejoice  ? 
And  friendless,  by  their  own  sad  choice ' 

Hail,  Bards  of  mightier  grasp  !  on  you 
I  chiefly  call,  the  chosen  Few, 
Who  cast  not  off  the  acknowledged  guide, 
Who  faltered  not,  nor  turned  aside ; 
Whose  lofty  genius  could  survive 
Privation,  under  sorrow  thrive ; 
In  whom  the  fiery  Muse  revered 
The  symbol  of  a  snow-white  beard, 
Bedewed  with  meditative  tears 
Dropped  from  the  lenient  cloud  of  years. 

Brothers  in  soul !  though  distant  times 
Produced  you  nursed  in  various  climes, 
Ye,  when  the  orb  of  life  had  waned, 
A  plenitude  of  love  retained : 
Hence,  while  in  you  each  sad  regret 
By  corresponding  hope  was  met, 
Ye  lingered  among  human  kind, 
Sweet  voices  for  the  passing  wind ; 
Departing  sunbeams,  loth  to  stop, 
Though  smiling  on  the  last  hill  top  !* 

1  1832. 

Stand 1827. 

*  Compare 

"  There  is  an  Eminence, — of  these  our  hills 
The  last  to  parley  with  the  setting  sun." 

Vol.  II.  p.  161.— ED. 


366  CAVE  OF  STAFF  A. 

Such  to  the  tender-hearted  maid 
Even  ere  her  joys  begin  to  fade ; 
Such,  haply,  to  the  rugged  chief 
By  fortune  crushed,  or  tamed  by  grief ; 
Appears,  on  Morven's  lonely  shore, 
Dim-gleaming  through  imperfect  lore, 
The  Son  of  Fingal ;  such  was  blind 
Mseonides  of  ampler  mind ;  * 
Such  Milton,  to  the  fountain  head 
Of  glory  by  Urania  led ! 


XXVIII. 

CAVE  OF  STAFFA.t 

WE  saw,  but  surely,  in  the  motley  crowd, 

Not  One  of  us  has  felt  the  far-famed  sight ; 

How  could  we  feel  it  ?  each  the  other's  blight, 

Hurried  and  hurrying,  volatile  and  loud. 

0  for  those  motions  only  that  invite 

The  Ghost  of  Fingal  to  his  tuneful  Cave 

By  the  breeze  entered,  and  wave  after  wave 

Softly  embosoming  the  timid  light ! 

And  by  one  Votary  who  at  will  might  stand 

Gazing  and  take  into  his  mind  and  heart, 

With  undistracted  reverence,  the  effect 

Of  those  proportions  where  the  almighty  Hand 

That  made  the  worlds,  the  sovereign  Architect, 

Has  deigned  to  work  as  if  with  human  Art  ! 

*  Homer ;  so  called  from  the  fact  that  Mseonia  in  Lydia  was,  by  some, 
claimed  as  his  birth-place. — ED. 

t  The  reader  may  be  tempted  to  exclaim,  "How  came  this  and  the  two 
following  sonnets  to  be  written,  after  the  dissatisfaction  expressed  in  the 
preceding  one  ? "  In  fact,  at  the  risk  of  incurring  the  reasonable  dis- 
pleasure of  the  master  of  the  steamboat,  I  returned  to  the  cave,  and 
explored  it  under  circumstances  more  favourable  to  those  imaginative 
impressions  which  it  is  so  wonderfully  fitted  to  make  upon  the  mind. — 
W.  W.,  1835. 


CAVE  OF  STAFF  A.  367 

XXIX. 
CAVE  OF  STAFFA. 

AFTER  THE  CROWD  HAD  DEPARTED. 

THANKS  for  the  lessons  of  this  Spot — fit  school 
For  the  presumptuous  thoughts  that  would  assign 
Mechanic  laws  to  agency  divine ; 
And,  measuring  heaven  by  earth,  would  over-rule 
Infinite  Power.     The  pillared  vestibule, 
Expanding  yet  precise,  the  roof  embowed,* 
Might  seem  designed  to  humble  man,  when  proud 
Of  his  best  workmanship  by  plan  and  tool. 
Down-bearing  with  his  whole  Atlantic  weight 
Of  tide  and  tempest  on  the  Structure's  base, 
And  flashing  to  that  Structure's  topmost  height,1 
Ocean  has  proved  its  strength,  and  of  its  grace 
In  calms  is  conscious,!  finding  for  his  freight 
Of  softest  music  some  responsive  place. 


XXX. 

CAVE  OF  STAFFA. 

YE  shadowy  Beings,  that  have  rights  and  claims 
In  every  cell  of  Fingal's  mystic  Grot, 
Where  are  ye  ?     Driven  or  venturing  to  the  spot, 
Our  fathers  glimpses  caught  of  your  thin  Frames, 

1  1837. 

And  flashing  upwards  to  its  topmost  height,  1832. 

*  Note  the  topographical  accuracy  of  this  description.— ED. 

t  Compare,  On  a  high  part  of  the  Coast  of  Cumberland,  p.  328. 
No  ;  'tis  the  earth* voice  of  the  mighty  sea 
Whispering  how  meek  and  gentle  he  can  be.          — ED. 


368  CAVE  OF  STAFFA. 

And,  by  your  mien  and  bearing,  knew  your  names ; 

And  they  could  hear  his  ghostly  song  who  trod 

Earth,  till  the  flesh  lay  on  him  like  a  load, 

While  he  struck  his  desolate  harp  without  hopes  or  aims. 

Vanished  ye  are,  but  subject  to  recal ; 

Why  keep  we  else  the  instincts  whose  dread  law 

Euled  here  of  yore,  till  what  men  felt  they  saw, 

Not  by  black  arts  but  magic  natural ! 

If  eyes  be  still  sworn  vassals  of  belief, 

Yon  light  shapes  forth  a  Bard,  that  shade  a  Chief. 


XXXI. 

FLOWERS  ON  THE  TOP  OF  THE  PILLARS  AT 
THE  ENTRANCE  OF  THE  CAVE. 

HOPE  smiled  when  your  nativity  was  cast, 
Children  of  Summer  !  *     Ye  fresh  Flowers  that  brave 
What  Summer  here  escapes  not,  the  fierce  wave, 
And  whole  artillery  of  the  western  blast, 
Battering  the  Temple's  front,  its  long-drawn  nave 
Smiting,  as  if  each  moment  were  their  last. 
But  ye,  bright  Flowers,  on  frieze  and  architrave 
Survive ;  t  and  once  again  the  Pile  stands  fast ; 
Calm  as  the  Universe,  from  specular  towers 
Of  heaven  contemplated  by  Spirits  pure 


*  Upon  the  head  of  the  columns  which  form  the  front  of  the  cave,  rests 
a  body  of  decomposed  basaltic  matter,  which  was  richly  decorated  with 
that  large  bright  flower,  the  ox-eyed  daisy.  I  had  noticed  the  same  flower 
growing  with  profusion  among  the  bold  rocks  on  the  western  coast  of  the 
Isle  of  Man  ;  making  a  brilliant  contrast  with  their  black  and  gloomy 
surfaces.— W.  W.,  1835. 

t  They  still  survive,  and  flourish  above  the  pillars. — ED. 


IONA.  369 


With  mute  astonishment,  it  stands  sustained 
Through  every  part  in  symmetry,  to  endure,1 
Unhurt,  the  assault  of  Time  with  all  his  hours, 
As  the  supreme  Artificer  ordained.2 


XXXII. 

IONA.* 

ON  to  lona ! — What  can  she  afford 

To  us  save  matter  for  a  thoughtful  sigh, 

Heaved  over  ruin  with  stability 

In  urgent  contrast  ?     To  diffuse  the  WORD 

(Thy  Paramount,  mighty  Nature  !  and  Time's  Lord)  f 

Her  Temples  rose,  'mid  pagan  gloom ;  but  why, 

Even  for  a  moment,  has  our  verse  deplored 

Their  wrongs,  since  they  fulfilled  their  destiny  ? 

And  when,  subjected  to  a  common  doom 

Of  mutability,  those  far-famed  Piles 

Shall  disappear  from  both  the  sister  Isles, 

lona's  Saints,  forgetting  not  past  days, 

Garlands  shall  wear  of  amaranthine  bloom, 

While  heaven's  vast  sea  of  voices  chants  their  praise. 

1  1843. 

Suns  and  their  systems,  diverse  yet  sustained 

In  symmetry,  and  fashioned  to  endure,  1835. 

2  1835. 

As  the  Supreme  Geometer  ordained.  MS. 

*  The  four  last  lines  of  this  sonnet  are  adopted  from  a  well-known 
sonnet  of  Russel,*  as  conveying  my  feeling  better  than  any  words  of  my 
own  could  do.— W.  W.,  1835. 

t  St  Columba  took  up  his  residence  at  lona,  in  563.— ED. 


*  Joshua  Kussel,  Poems,  1819.— ED. 
VII.  2  A 


370  IONA. 

XXXIII. 

IONA. 

(UPON  LANDING.) 

How  sad  a  welcome  !      To  each  voyager l 

Some  ragged  child  holds  up  for  sale  a  store  2 

Of  wave-worn  pebbles,  pleading  on  the  shore 3 

Where  once  came  monk  and  nun  with  gentle  stir, 

Blessings  to  give,  news  ask,  or  suit  prefer. 

Yet  is  4  yon  neat  trim  church  *  a  grateful  speck 

Of  novelty  amid  the  sacred  wreck 

Strewn  far  and  wide.      Think,  proud  Philosopher  ! 5 

Fallen  though  she  be,  this  Glory  of  the  West,6 

Still  on  her  sons,  the  beams  of  mercy  shine ; 

And  '  hopes,  perhaps  more  heavenly  bright  than  thine, 

A  grace  by  thee  unsought  and  unpossest, 

A  faith  more  fixed,  a  rapture  more  divine, 

Shall  gild  their  passage  to  eternal  rest.' 

1  1837. 

With  earnest  look,  to  every  voyager,  1835. 

2  1837. 

.        his  store  1835. 

3  1835. 

With  outstretched  hands,  round  every  voyager 

Press  ragged  children,  each  to  supplicate 

A  price  for  wave-worn  pebbles  on  his  plate.  MS. 

4  1837. 

But  see  ....  1835. 

5  1837. 

this  sacred  wreck — 
Nay  spare  thy  scorn,  haughty  Philosopher  !  1835. 

6  1835. 

Fallen  as  she  is,  this  Glory  of  the  West,  MS. 

*  This  refers  to  the  Parish  Church,   not  to  St  Oran's  Chapel,  or  the 
Cathedral  Church  of  St  Mary.— ED. 


HOMEWARD  WE  TURN.       ISLE  OF  COLUMBA's  CELL.    37 1 


XXXIV. 

THE  BLACK  STONES  OF  IONA. 

[See  Martin's  Voyage  among  the  Western  Isles.*] 
HEEE  on  their  knees  men  swore ;  the  stones  were  black,! 
Black  in  the  people's  minds  and  words,1  yet  they 
Were  at  that  time,  as  now,  in  colour  grey. 
But  what  is  colour,  if  upon  the  rack 
Of  conscience  souls  are  placed  by  deeds  that  lack 
Concord  with  oaths  ?     What  differ  night  and  day 
Then,  when  before  the  Perjured  on  his  way 
Hell  opens,  and  the  heavens  in  vengeance  crack 
Above  his  head  uplifted  in  vain  prayer 
To  Saint,  or  Fiend, 2  or  to  the  Godhead  whom 
He  had  insulted — Peasant,  King,  or  Thane  ? 
Fly  where  the  culprit  may,  guilt  meets  a  doom ; 
And,  from  invisible  worlds  at  need  laid  bare, 
Come  links  for  social  order's  awful  chain. 


xxxv. 

HOMEWARD  we  turn.     Isle  of  Columba's  Cell, 
Where  Christian  piety's  soul-cheering  spark 
(Kindled  from  Heaven  between  the  light  and  dark 
Of  time)  shone  like  the  morning-star,  farewell ! — 

1  1835. 

Here  on  their  knees,  they  swore,  the  stones  were  black, 
Black  in  men's  minds  and  words,         ...        MS. 

2  1835. 

To  saints,  to  fiends,  .        .  MS- 

*  Description  of  the  Western  Islands  of  Scotland;  including  an  account  of 

the  Manners,  Customs,  Religion,  Language,  Dress,  <fcc.,  of  the  Inhabitants,  by 

M.  Martin,  1703.— ED. 
t  The  spot  where  those  Black  Stones— on  which  it  was  the  custom  to 

swear  contracts  and  alliances— were  concealed,  is  pointed  out  near  the 

site  of  the  Bishop's  house,  to  the  north  of  the  Cathedral. -ED. 


372  GREENOCK. 

And  fare  tbee  well,  to  Fancy  visible, 

Remote  St  Kilda,  lone  and  loved  sea-mark  * 

For  many  a  voyage  made  in  her  swift  bark,1 

When  with  more  hues  than  in  the  rainbow  dwell 

Thou  a  mysterious  intercourse  dost  hold, 

Extracting  from  clear  skies  and  air  serene, 

And  out  of  sun-bright  waves,  a  lucid  veil, 

That  thickens,  spreads,  and,  mingling  fold  with  fold, 

Makes  known,  when  thou  no  longer  canst  be  seen, 

Thy  whereabout,  to  warn  the  approaching  sail. 


xxxvi. 
GKEENOCK 

Per  me  si  va  nella  Cittk  dolente.t 

WE  have  not  passed  into  a  doleful  City, 
We  who  were  led  to-day  down  a  grim  dell, 
By  some  too  boldly  named  '  the  Jaws  of  Hell : '{ 
Where  be  the  wretched  ones,  the  sights  for  pity  ? 
These  crowded  streets  resound  no  plaintive  ditty : 
As  from  the  hive  where  bees  in  summer  dwell, 
Sorrow  seems  here  excluded ;  and  that  knell, 
It  neither  damps  the  gay,  nor  checks  the  witty. 


,  farewell ! — 

Eemote  St  Kilda,  art  thou  visible  1 
No — but  farewell  to  thee,  beloved  sea-mark 
From  many  a  voyage  made  in  Fancy's  bark,  1835. 


*  St  Kilda  is  sixty  miles  to  the  west  of  Harris,  in  the  outer  Hebrides. 
ED, 

t  Dante,  Inferno,  III.  1.— ED. 

J  They  came  down  from  Inverary  to  Loch  Goil  by  Hell's  Glen. — ED. 


"  THEHE  1"  SAID  A  STRIPLING.  373 

Alas !  too  busy  Eival  of  old  Tyre,1 

Whose  merchants  Princes  were,  whose  decks  were  thrones ; 

Soon  may  the  punctual  sea  in  vain  respire 

To  serve  thy  need,  in  union  with  that  Clyde 

Whose  nursling  current  brawls  o'er  mossy  stones,* 

The  poor,  the  lonely,  herdsman's  joy  and  pride. 


XXXVII. 

[Mosgiel  was  thus  pointed  out  to  me  by  a  young  man  on  the  top  of 
the  coach  on  my  way  from  Glasgow  to  Kilmarnock.  It  is  remarkable 
that,  though  Burns  lived  some  time  here,  and  during  much  the  most 
productive  period  of  his  poetical  life,  he  nowhere  adverts  to  the  splendid 
prospects  stretching  towards  the  sea  and  bounded  by  the  peaks  of 
Arran  on  one  part,  which  in  clear  weather  he  must  have  had  daily  before 
his  eyes.  In  one  of  his  poetical  effusions  he  speaks  of  describing  "  fair 
Nature's  face"  as  a  privilege  on  which  he  sets  a  high  value  ;  neverthe- 
less, natural  appearances  rarely  take  a  lead  in  his  poetry.  It  is  as  a 
human  being,  eminently  sensitive  and  intelligent,  and  not  as  a  poet, 
clad  in  his  priestly  robes  and  carrying  the  ensigns  of  sacerdotal  office, 
that  he  interests  and  affects  us.  Whether  he  speaks  of  rivers,  hills 
and  woods,  it  is  not  so  much  on  account  of  the  properties  with  which 
they  are  absolutely  endowed,  as  relatively  to  local  patriotic  remem- 
brances and  associations,  or  as  they  ministered  to  personal  feelings, 
especially  those  of  love,  whether  happy  or  otherwise ;— yet  it  is  not 
always  so.  Soon  after  we  had  passed  Mosgiel  Farm  we  crossed  the 
Ayr,  murmuring  and  winding  through  a  narrow  woody  hollow.  His 
line— "  Auld  hermit  Ayr  strays  through  his  woods"— came  at  once  to 
my  mind  with  Irwin,  Lugar,  Ayr,  and  Doon,— Ayrshire  streams  over 
which  he  breathes  a  sigh  as  being  unnamed  in  song ;  and  surely  his 
own  attempts  to  make  them  known  were  as  successful  as  his  heart 
could  desire.] 

"  THERE  ! "  said  a  Stripling,  pointing  with  meet  pride 
Towards  a  low  roof  with  green  trees  half  concealed, 
"  Is  Mosgiel  Farm  ;  and  that's  the  very  field 
Where  Burns  ploughed  up  the  Daisy."  t     Far  and  wide 

1  1837. 

Too  busy  Mart !  thus  fared  it  with  old  Tyre,  1835. 


*  Above  Elvanfoot. — ED. 

t  See  Burns'  poem  To  a  Mountain  Daisy,  or  as  it  was  originally  called, 
The  Oowan.—EiD. 


374  THE  RIVER  EDEN,  CUMBERLAND. 

A  plain  below  stretched  seaward,  while,  descried 
Above  sea-clouds,  the  Peaks  of  Arran  rose ; 
And,  by  that  simple  notice,  the  repose 
Of  earth,  sky,  sea,  and  air,  was  vivified. 
Beneath  '  the  random  Held  of  clod  or  stone ' 
Myriads  of  daisies  have  shone  forth  in  flower 
Near  the  lark's  nest,  and  in  their  natural  hour 
Have  passed  away ;  less  happy  than  the  One 
That,  by  the  unwilling  ploughshare,  died  to  prove 
The  tender  charm  of  poetry  and  love. 


XXXVIII. 

THE  KIVEK  EDEN,  CUMBEKLAND. 

["  Nature  gives  thee  flowers 
That  have  no  rivals  among  British  bowers." 

This  can  scarcely  be  true  to  the  letter ;  but,  without  stretching  the 
point  at  all,  I  can  say  that  the  soil  and  air  appear  more  congenial  with 
many  upon  the  banks  of  this  river  than  I  have  observed  in  any  other 
parts  of  Great  Britain.] 

EDEN  !  till  now  thy  beauty  had  I  viewed 1 
By  glimpses  only,  and  confess  with  shame 
That  verse  of  mine,  whate'er  its  varying  mood, 
Eepeats  but  once  the  sound  of  thy  sweet  name : 
Yet  fetched  from  Paradise  *  that  honour  came, 

1  1835. 

Full  long  thy  beauty,  Eden,  had  I  viewed, 

By  glimpses  only         .  ...  MS. 

Eden  !  the  Muse  has  wronged  thee,  be  the  shame 

Frankly  acknowledged,  in  no  careless  mood 

Of  memory,  my  verse  have  I  reviewed 

And  met  but  once  the  sound  of  thy  sweet  name        MS. 

*  It  is  to  be  feared  that  there  is  more  of  the  poet  than  the  sound 
etymologist  in  this  derivation  of  the  name  Eden.  On  the  western  coast  of 
Cumberland  is  a  rivulet  which  enters  the  sea  at  Moresby,  known  also  in 
the  neighbourhood  by  the  name  of  Eden.  May  not  the  latter  syllable  come 


MONUMENT  OF  MRS  HOWARD.  3*75 

Rightfully  borne ;  for  Nature  gives  thee  flowers 
That  have  no  rivals  among  British  bowers ; 
And  thy  bold  rocks  are  worthy  of  their  fame.* 
Measuring  thy  course,  fair  Stream  !  at  length  I  pay l 
To  my  life's  neighbour  dues  of  neighbourhood ; 
But  I  have  traced  thee  on  thy  winding  way 2 
With  pleasure  sometimes  by  this  thought  restrained,— 
For  things  far  off  we  toil,  while  many  a  good  3 
Not  sought,  because  too  near,  is  never  gained.4 

1  1835. 

Bright  are  the  hours  that  prompt  me  now  to  pay      MS. 

2  1835. 

Thee  have  I  traced  along  thy  winding  way.  MS. 

3  1845. 

by  the  thought  restrained 
That  things  far  off  are  toiled  for,  while  a  good         1835. 

That  for  things  far  off  we  toil,  while  many  a  good 

1843. 

4  1835. 

Not  sought,  because  too  near,  is  seldom  gained,         MS. 


XXXIX. 

MONUMENT  OF  MES  HOWARD, 

(by  Nollekens,) 

IN   WETHERAL    CHURCH,    NEAR   CORBY,    ON   THE   BANKS   OF   THE   EDEN. 

[Before  this  monument  was  put  up  in  the  Church  at  Wetheral,  I  saw 
it  in  the  sculptor's  studio.  Nollekens,  who,  by-the-bye,  was  a  strange 
and  grotesque  figure  that  interfered  much  with  one's  admiration  of  his 
works,  showed  me  at  the  same  time  the  various  models  in  clay  which  he 

from  the  word  Dean,  a  valley?  Langdale,  near  Ambleside,  is  by  the 
inhabitants  called  Langden.  The  former  syllable  occurs  in  the  name 
Emont,  a  principal  feeder  of  the  Eden  ;  and  the  stream  which  flows,  when 
the  tide  is  out,  over  Cartmel  Sands,  is  called  the  Ea— French,  eau— Latin, 
aqua.—  W.  W.,  1835. 

*  Especially  on  the  upper  reaches  of  the  river,  as  seen  from  the  Midland 
Railway  line  beyond  Appleby. — ED. 


376        SUGGESTED  BY  THE  FOREGOING. 

had  made,  one  after  another,  of  the  Mother  and  her  Infant :  the  im- 
provement on  each  was  surprising ;  and  how  so  much  grace,  beauty, 
and  tenderness  had  come  out  of  such  a  head  I  was  sadly  puzzled  to 
conceive.  Upon  a  window-seat  in  his  parlour  lay  two  casts  of  faces, 
one  of  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  so  noted  in  her  day  ;  and  the  other 
of  Mr  Pitt,  taken  after  his  death,  a  ghastly  resemblance,  as  these 
things  always  are,  even  when  taken  from  the  living  subject,  and  more 
ghastly  in  this  instance  from  the  peculiarity  of  the  features.  The 
heedless  and  apparently  neglectful  manner  in  which  the  faces  of  these 
two  persons  were  left — the  one  so  distinguished  in  London  society,  and 
the  other  upon  whose  counsels  and  public  conduct,  during  a  most 
momentous  period,  depended  the  fate  of  this  great  Empire  and  per- 
haps of  all  Europe — afforded  a  lesson  to  which  the  dullest  of  casual 
visitors  could  scarcely  be  insensible.  It  touched  me  the  more  because 
I  had  so  often  seen  Mr  Pitt  upon  his  own  ground  at  Cambridge  and 
upon  the  floor  of  the  House  of  Commons.] 

STRETCHED  on  the  dying  Mother's  lap,  lies  dead 

Her  new-born  Babe  ;  dire  ending l  of  bright  hope  ! 

But  Sculpture  here,  with  the  divinest  scope 

Of  luminous  faith,  heavenward  hath  raised  that  head 

So  patiently ;  and  through  one  hand  has  spread 

A  touch  so  tender  for  the  insensate  Child — 

(Earth's  lingering  love  to  parting  reconciled, 

Brief  parting,  for  the  spirit  is  all  but  fled) — 

That  we  who  contemplate  the  turns  of  life 

Through  this  still  medium,  are  consoled  and  cheered ; 

Feel  with  the  Mother,  think  the  severed  Wife 

Is  less  to  be  lamented  than  revered ; 

And  own  that  Art,  triumphant  over  strife 

And  pain,  hath  powers  to  Eternity  endeared. 


XL. 
SUGGESTED  BY  THE  EOEEGOING. 

TRANQUILLITY  !  the  sovereign  aim  wert  thou 
In  heathen  schools  of  philosophic  lore  ;* 

1  1845. 

ISSUe  .  .  .  1835. 

*  'Ara/9a£ta,  was  the  aim  of  Stoic,  Epicurean,  and  Sceptic  alike.— ED. 


NUNNERY.  377 

Heart-stricken  by  stern  destiny  of  yore 

The  Tragic  Muse  thee  served  with  thoughtful  vow  ; 

And  what  of  hope  Elysium  could  allow 

Was  fondly  seized  by  Sculpture,  to  restore 

Peace  to  the  Mourner.     But  when  He  who  wore 1 

The  crown  of  thorns  around  his  bleeding  brow 

Warmed  our  sad  being  with  celestial  light,2 

Then  Arts  which  still  had  drawn  a  softening  grace 

From  shadowy  fountains  of  the  Infinite, 

Communed  with  that  Idea  face  to  face : 

And  move  around  it  now  as  planets  run, 

Each  in  its  orbit  round  the  central  Sun. 


XLI. 
NUNNERY.* 

[I  became  acquainted  with  the  walks  of  Nunnery  when  a  boy  :*they 
are  within  easy  reach  of  a  day's  pleasant  excursion  from  the  town  of 
Penrith,  where  I  used  to  pass  my  summer  holidays  under  the  roof  of 
my  maternal  Grandfather.  The  place  is  well  worth  visiting  ;  though, 
within  these  few  years,  its  privacy,  and  therefore  the  pleasure  which 
the  scene  is  so  well  fitted  to  give,  has  been  injuriously  affected  by 
walks  cut  in  the  rocks  on  that  side  the  stream  which  had  been  left  in 
its  natural  state.] 

THE  floods  are  roused,  and  will  not  soon  be  weary ; 
Down  from  the  Pennine  Alps  t  how  fiercely  sweeps 
CKOGLIN,  the  stately  Eden's  tributary  !  J 
He  raves,  or  through  some  moody  passage  creeps 

1  1843. 

Peace  to  the  Mourner's  soul ;  but  He  who  wore      1835. 

2  1843. 

with  his  glorious  light :  1835. 

*  Nunnery  ;  so  named  from  the  House  for  Benedictine  Nuns  established 
by  William  Eufus.— ED. 

t  The  chain  of  Crossfell.— W.  W.,  1835. 

J  The  two  streams  of  the  Croglin  and  the  Eden  unite  in  the  grounds  of 
Nunnery. — ED. 


378         STEAM-BOATS,  VIADUCTS,  AND  RAILWAYS. 

Plotting  new  mischief — out  again  he  leaps 
Into  broad  light,  and  sends,  through  regions  airy,1 
That  voice  which  soothed  the  Nuns  while  on  the  steeps 
They  knelt  in  prayer,  or  sang  to  blissful  Mary.2 
That  union  ceased :  then,  cleaving  easy  walks 
Through  crags,  and  smoothing  paths  beset  with  danger, 
Came  studious  Taste ;  and  many  a  pensive  stranger 
Dreams  on  the  banks,  and  to  the  river  talks. 
What  change  shall  happen  next  to  Nunnery  Dell  ? 3 
Canal,  and  Viaduct,  and  Eailway,  tell !  * 


XLII. 
STEAM-BOATS,  VIADUCTS,  AND  EAILWAYS. 

MOTIONS  and  Means,  on  land  and  sea  at  war 

With  old  poetic  feeling,  not  for  this, 

Shall  ye,  by  Poets  even,  be  judged  amiss  ! 

Nor  shall  your  presence,  howsoe'er  it  mar 

The  loveliness  of  Nature,  prove  a  bar 

To  the  Mind's  gaining  that  prophetic  sense 

Of  future  change,  that  point  of  vision,  whence 

May  be  discovered  what  in  soul  ye  are. 

In  spite  of  all  that  beauty  may  disown 

In  your  harsh  features,  Nature  doth  embrace 

Her  lawful  offspring  in  Man's  art  ;  and  Time, 

Pleased  with  your  triumphs  o'er  his  brother  Space, 


1835. 

Seeking  in  vain  broad  light,  and  regions  aery.  MS. 

1835. 


But  with  that  voice  which  once  high  on  his  steeps 
Mingled  with  vespers,  sung  to  blissful  Mary  —          MS. 

3  1835. 

......         to  Croglin  Dell.  MS. 

*  At  Corby,  a  few  miles  below  Nunnery,  the  Eden  is  crossed  by  a 
magnificent  viaduct  ;  and  another  of  these  works  is  thrown  over  a  deep 
glen  or  ravine  at  a  very  short  distance  from  the  main  stream.  —  W.  W., 
1835. 


LONG  MEG  AND  HER  DAUGHTERS.        379 

Accepts  from  your  bold  hands  the  proffered  crown 
Of  hope,  and  smiles  on  you  with  cheer  sublime.* 


XLIII. 

THE  MONUMENT  COMMONLY  CALLED  LONG  MEG 
AND  HEE  DAUGHTEES,  NEAE  THE  EIVEE  EDEN. 

Pub.  1836. 

A  WEIGHT  of  awe,  not  easy  to  be  borne, 
Fell  suddenly  upon  my  Spirit — cast 
From  the  dread  bosom  of  the  unknown  past, 
"When  first  I  saw  that  family  forlorn. 
Speak  Thou,  whose  massy  strength  and  stature  scorn 
The  power  of  years — pre-eminent,  and  placed 
Apart,  to  overlook  the  circle  vast — 
Speak,  Giant-mother  !  tell  it  to  the  Morn 
While  she  dispels  the  cumbrous  shades  of  Night ; 
Let  the  Moon  hear,  emerging  from  a  cloud ; 
At  whose  behest  uprose  on  British  ground 
That  Sisterhood,  in  hieroglyphic  round 
Forth-shadowing,  some  have  deemed,  the  infinite, 
The  inviolable  God,  that  tames  the  proud !  t 

*  Compare  the  Sonnet  On  the  projected  Kendal  and  Windermere  Railway, 
written  in  1844.— ED. 

t  The  daughters  of  Long  Meg,  placed  in  a  perfect  circle  eighty  yards  in 
diameter,  are  seventy -two  in  number  above  ground ;  a  little  way  out  the 
circle  stands  Long  Meg  herself,  a  single  stone,  eighteen  feet  high.  When 
I  first  saw  this  monument,  as  I  came  upon  it  by  surprise,  I  might  over-rate 
its  importance  as  an  object ;  but,  though  it  will  not  bear  a  comparison 
with  Stonehenge,  I  must  say,  I  have  not  seen  any  other  relique  of  those 
dark  ages,  which  can  pretend  to  rival  it  in  singularity  and  dignity  of 
appearance. — W.  W.,  1835. 

In  a  letter  to  Sir  George  Beaumont,  January  6,  1821,  Wordsworth  wrote, 
"My  road  brought  me  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  upon  that  ancient 
monument,  called  by  the  country  people  Long  Meg  and  her  Daughters. 
Everybody  has  heard  of  it,  and  so  had  I  from  very  early  childhood ;  but 
had  never  seen  it  before.  Next  to  Stonehenge  it  is  beyond  dispute  the 
most  noble  relic  of  the  kind  that  this  or  probably  any  other  country 
contains.  Long  Meg  is  a  single  block  of  unhewn  stone,  eighteen  feet  high, 


380  LOWTHER. 


XLIV. 

LOWTHER 

["  Cathedral  pomp."  It  may  be  questioned  whether  this  union  was 
in  the  contemplation  of  the  artist  when  he  planned  the  edifice.  How- 
ever this  might  be,  a  poet  may  be  excused  for  taking  the  view  of  the 
subject  presented  in  this  Sonnet.] 

LOWTHER  !  in  thy  majestic  Pile  are  seen l 

Cathedral  pomp  and  grace,  in  apt  accord 2 

With  the  baronial  castle's  sterner  mien  ;* 

Union  significant  of  God  adored, 

And  charters  won  and  guarded  by  the  sword 

Of  ancient  honour ;  whence  that  goodly  state 

Of  polity  which  wise  men  venerate,! 

And  will  maintain,  if  God  his  help  afford. 

Hourly  the  democratic  torrent  swells ; 3 

For  airy  promises  and  hopes  suborned 

The  strength  of  backward- looking  thoughts  is  scorned. 

Fall  if  ye  must,  ye  Towers  and  Pinnacles, 

With  what  ye  symbolise ;  authentic  Story 

Will  say,  Ye  disappeared  with  England's  Glory  ! 


1  1835. 

in  thy  magnificence  are  seen. 

2  1835. 

Shapes  of  cathedral  pomp  that  well  accord. 

3  1835. 

But  high  the  democratic  torrent  swells. 

MS. 
MS. 
MS. 

at  a  small  distance  from  a  vast  circle  of  other  stones,  some  of  them  of  huge 
size,  though  curtailed  of  their  stature,  by  their  own  incessant  pressure  upon 
it."— ED. 

*  The  present  Castle  was  begun  in  1808.  It  is  in  the  style  of  the  13th  and 
14th  century  structures.  The  arched  corridors  surrounding  the  staircase 
—which  is  sixty  feet  square  and  ninety  feet  high— may  justify  the  descrip- 
tion in  the  sonnet.  These  stone  corridors  open  on  each  side,  through  the 
centre  of  the  castle.  Compare  the  reference  to  Lowther  in  Barren's  Travels 
in  China,  p.  134,  in  the  course  of  his  description  of  "  Gehol's  matchless 
gardens  "  referred  to  in  The  Prelude,  Book  viii.  (Vol.  III.,  p.  285.) — ED. 

t  The  Lowther  family  have  been,  for  generations,  the  representatives  of 
the  Conservative  cause  in  Cumberland.— ED. 


TO  THE  EARL  OF  LONSDALE.  381 


XLV. 

TO  THE  EAEL  OF  LONSDALE. 

'  Magistratus  indicat  virum.' 
LONSDALE  !  it  were  unworthy  of  a  Guest, 
Whose  heart  with  gratitude  to  thee  inclines, 
If  he  should  speak,  by  fancy  touched,  of  signs 
On  thy  Abode  harmoniously  imprest, 
Yet  be  unmoved  with  wishes  to  attest 
How  in  thy  mind  and  moral  frame  agree 
Fortitude,  and  that  Christian  Charity 
Which,  filling,  consecrates  the  human  breast. 
And  if  the  Motto  on  thy  'scutcheon  teach 
With  truth,  "  THE  MAGISTRACY  SHOWS  THE  MAN  ; " 
That  searching  test  thy  public  course  has  stood ; 1 
As  will  be  owned  alike  by  bad  and  good, 
Soon  as  the  measuring  of  life's  little  span 
Shall  place  thy  virtues  out  of  Envy's  reach.* 

1  1835. 

Lonsdale  !  it  were  unworthy  of  a  Guest, 

One  chiefly  well  aware  how  much  he  owes 

To  thy  regard,  to  speak  in  verse  or  prose 

Of  types  and  signs  harmoniously  imprest 

On  thy  Abode,  neglecting  to  attest 

That  in  thy  Mansion's  Lord  as  well  agree 

Meekness  and  strength  and  Christian  charity, 

That  filling,  consecrates  the  human  breast. 

And  if,  as  thy  armorial  bearings  teach, 

"  The  Magistracy  indicates  the  Man," 

That  test  thy  life  triumphantly  has  stood.  MS. 

*  This  sonnet  was  written  immediately  after  certain  trials,  which  took 
place  at  the  Cumberland  Assizes,  when  the  Earl  of  Lonsdale,  in  consequence 
of  repeated  and  long-continued  attacks  upon  his  character,  through  the 
local  press,  had  thought  it  right  to  prosecute  the  conductors  and  proprietors 
of  three  several  journals.  A  verdict  of  libel  was  given  in  one  case  ;  and, 
in  the  others,  the  prosecutions  were  withdrawn,  upon  the  individuals 
retracting  and  disavowing  the  charges,  expressing  regret  that  they  had 
been  made,  and  promising  to  abstain  from  the  like  in  future. — W.  W., 
1835. 


382  THE  SOMNAMBULIST. 

XL  VI. 
THE  SOMNAMBULIST.* 

[This  poem  might  be  dedicated  to  my  friends,  Sir  G.  Beaumont  and 
Mr  Rogers  jointly.  While  we  were  making  an  excursion  together  in 
this  part  of  the  Lake  District  we  heard  that  Mr  Glover,  the  artist, 
while  lodging  at  Lyulph's  Tower,  had  been  disturbed  by  a  loud  shriek, 
and  upon  rising  he  had  learnt  that  it  had  come  from  a  young  woman 
in  the  house  who  was  in  the  habit  of  walking  in  her  sleep.  In  that 
state  she  had  gone  down  stairs,  and,  while  attempting  to  open  the 
outer  door,  either  from  some  difficulty  or  the  effect  of  the  cold  stone 
upon  her  feet,  had  uttered  the  cry  which  alarmed  him.  It  seemed  to 
us  all  that  this  might  serve  as  a  hint  for  a  poem,  and  the  story  here 
told  was  constructed  and  soon  after  put  into  verse  by  me  as  it  now 
stands.] 

LIST,  ye  who  pass  by  Lyulph's  Tower l  f 

At  eve  ;  how  softly  then 
Doth  Aira-force,  that  torrent  hoarse, 

Speak  from  the  woody  glen  !  J 
Fit  music  for  a  solemn  vale ! 

And  holier  seems  the  ground2 

1  'Tis  sweet  to  stand  by  Lyulph's  Tower.  MS. 

To  rudest  shepherd  of  the  vale 

The  spot  seems  holy  ground  ;  MS. 

*  The  original  title  of  the  Poem  (in  MS.)  was 
Air  a  Force, 

or 

Sir  Eglamore  and  Elva. 

There  were  no  changes  of  text  in  the  published  editions  of  this  poem. 
The  various  readings  given  are  from  MS.  copies  of  the  poem,  in  Mrs 
Wordsworth's  handwriting. — ED. 

t  A  pleasure-house  built  by  the  late  Duke  of  Norfolk  upon  the  banks  of 
Ullswater.  FORCE  is  the  word  used  in  the  Lake  District  for  Waterfall. — 
W.  W.,  1835. 

J  Compare  Airey  Force  Valley — 

the  brook  itself, 

Old  as  the  hills  that  feed  it  from  afar, 
Doth  rather  deepen  than  disturb  the  calm, 
&c.,  —ED. 


THE  SOMNAMBULIST.  383 

To  him  who  catches l  on  the  gale 
The  spirit  of  a  mournful  tale, 
Embodied  in  the  sound. 


Not  far  from  that  fair  site  whereon 

The  Pleasure-house  is  reared, 
As  story  says,  in  antique  days 

A  stern-browed  house  appeared ; 
Foil  to  a  Jewel  rich  in  light 

There  set,  and  guarded  well ; 
Cage  for  a  Bird  of  plumage  bright, 
Sweet-voiced,  nor  wishing  for  a  flight 

Beyond  her  native  dell. 

To  win  this  bright  Bird  from  her  cage, 

To  make  this  Gem  their  own, 
Came  Barons  bold,  with  store  of  gold, 

And  Knights  of  high  renown  ; 
But  one  She  prized,  and  only  one  ; 

Sir  Eglamore  was  he ; 
Full  happy  season,  when  was  known, 
Ye  Dales  and  Hills !  to  you  alone 

Their  mutual  loyalty — 2 

Known  chiefly,  Aira  !  to  thy  glen, 

Thy  brook,  and  bowers  of  holly ; 
Where  Passion  caught  what  Nature  taught, 

That  all  but  love  is  folly ; 
Where  Fact  with  Fancy  stooped  to  play ; 

For  he  can  catch MS. 

Their  true  love's  sanctity —  MS. 


384  THE  SOMNAMBULIST. 

Doubt  came  not,  nor  regret — 
To  trouble  hours  that  winged  their  way, 
As  if  through  an  immortal  day 

Whose  sun  could  never  set. 

But  in  old  times  Love  dwelt  not  long l 

Sequester'd  with  repose ; 
Best  throve  the  fire  of  chaste  desire, 

Fanned  by  the  breath  of  foes. 
"  A  conquering  lance  is  beauty's  test, 

And  proves  the  Lover  true ;" 
So  spake  Sir  Eglamore,  and  pressed 
The  drooping  Emma2  to  his  breast, 

And  looked  a  blind  adieu. 

They  parted. — Well  with  him  it  fared 

Through  wide-spread  regions  errant ; 
A  knight  of  proof  in  love's  behoof, 

The  thirst  of  fame  his  warrant : 
And  She  her  happiness3  can  build 

On  woman's  quiet  hours ; 
Though  faint,  compared  with  spear  and  shield, 
The  solace  beads  and  masses  yield, 

And  needlework  and  flowers. 

Yet  blest  was  Emma4  when  she  heard 
Her  Champion's  praise  recounted ; 

Though  brain  would  swim,  and  eyes  grow  dim, 
And  high  her  blushes  mounted ; 

1  But  in  that  age  Love  ....  MS. 

2  The  drooping  Elva MS. 

3  She,  too,  a  happiness  ....  sis. 

4  .        .           was  Elva,  ....  MS. 


THE  SOMNAMBULIST.  385 

Or  when  a  bold  heroic  lay 

She  warbled  from  full  heart ; 
Delightful  blossoms  for  the  May 
Of  absence  !  but  they  will  not  stay, 

Born  only  to  depart. 

Hope  wanes  with  her,  while  lustre  fills 

Whatever  path  he  chooses ; 
As  if  his  orb,  that  owns  no  curb, 

Eeceived  the  light  her's  loses. 
He  conies  not  back ;  an  ampler  space 

Kequires  for  nobler  deeds ; 
He  ranges  on  from  place  to  place, 
Till  of  his  doings  is  no  trace, 

But  what  her  fancy  breeds. 

His  fame  may  spread,  but  in  the  past 

Her  spirit  finds  its  centre ; 
Clear  sight  She  has  of  what  he  was, 

And  that  would  now  content  her. 
"  Still  is  he  my  devoted  Knight  ?" 

The  tear  in  answer  flows ; 
Month  falls  on  month  with  heavier  weight ; 
Day  sickens  round  her,  and  the  night 

Is  empty  of  repose. 

In  sleep  She  sometimes  walked  abroad, 
Deep  sighs  with  quick  words  blending, 

Like  that  pale  Queen  whose  hands  are  seen 
With  fancied  spots  contending;* 

But  she  is  innocent  of  blood, — 
The  moon  is  not  more  pure 

*  See  Macbeth,  Act  iv.,  Scene  5.— ED. 
VII.  2  B 


386  THE  SOMNAMBULIST. 

That  shines  aloft,  while  through  the  wood 
She  thrids  her  way,  the  sounding  Flood 
Her  melancholy  lure ! 

While  'mid  the  fern-brake  sleeps  the  doe, 

And  owls  alone  are  waking, 
In-  white  arrayed,  glides  on  the  Maid 

The  downward  pathway  taking, 
That  leads  her  to  the  torrent's  side 

And  to  a  holly  bower ; 
By  whom  on  this  still  night  descried  ? 
By  whom  in  that  lone  place  espied  ? 

By  thee,  Sir  Eglamore  I1 

A  wandering  Ghost,  so  thinks  the  Knight, 

His  coming  step  has  thwarted, 
Beneath  the  boughs  that  heard  their  vows, 

Within  whose  shade  they  parted. 
Hush,  hush,  the  busy  Sleeper  see ! 

Perplexed  her  fingers  seem, 
As  if  they  from  the  holly  tree 
Green  twigs  would  pluck,  as  rapidly 

Flung  from  her  to  the  stream. 

What  means  the  Spectre  ?     Why  intent 

To  violate  the  Tree, 
Thought  Eglamore,  by  which  I  swore 

Unfading  constancy  ? 
Here  am  I,  and  to-morrow's  sun, 

To  her  I  left,  shall  prove 
That  bliss  is  ne'er  so  surely  won 
As  when  a  circuit  has  been  run 

Of  valour,  truth,  and  love. 

1  The  knight,  Sir  Eglamore.  MS. 


THE  SOMNAMBULIST.  387 

So  from  the  spot  whereon  he  stood, 

He  moved  with  stealthy  pace ; 
And,  drawing  nigh,  with  his  living  eye,1 

He  recognised  the  face ; 
And  whispers  caught,  and  speeches  small, 

Some  to  the  green-leaved  tree, 
Some  muttered  to  the  torrent-fall ; — 
"  Eoar  on,  and  bring  him  with  thy  call ; 

I  heard,  and  so  may  He  !" 

Soul-shattered  was  the  Knight,  nor  knew 

If  Emma's  Ghost2  it  were, 
Or  boding  Shade,  or  if  the  Maid 

Her  very  self  stood  there. 
He  touched ;  what  followed  who  shall  tell  ? 

The  soft  touch  snapped  the  thread 
Of  slumber — shrieking  back  she  fell, 
And  the  Stream  whirled  her  down  the  dell 

Along  its  foaming  bed. 

In  plunged  the  Knight ! — when  on  firm  ground3 

The  rescued  Maiden  lay, 
Her  eyes  grew  bright  with  blissful  light, 

Confusion  passed  away ; 
She  heard,  ere  to  the  throne  of  grace 

Her  faithful  Spirit  flew, 
His  voice — beheld  his  speaking  face ; 
And,  dying,  from  his  own  embrace, 

She  felt  that  he  was  true. 

So  was  he  reconciled  to  life : 

Brief  words  may  speak  the  rest  ;3 

with  living  eye.  MS 

If  Elva'a  Ghost MS. 

In  plunged  the  Knight— he  strove  in  vain. 

Brief  words  may  speak  the  rest ; 

Within,  &c MS. 


388  TO  CORDELIA  M . 

Within  the  dell  he  built  a  cell, 

And  there  was  Sorrow's  guest ; 
In  hermits'  weeds  repose  he  found, 

From  vain  temptations1  free  ;  * 
Beside  the  torrent  dwelling — bound 
By  one  deep  heart-controlling  sound, 

And  awed  to  piety. 

Wild  stream  of  Aira,  hold  thy  course, 

Nor  fear  memorial  lays, 
Where  clouds  that  spread  in  solemn  shade, 

Are  edged  with  golden  rays  ! 
Dear  art  thou  to  the  light  of  heaven, 

Though  minister  of  sorrow ; 
Sweet  is  thy  voice  at  pensive  even ; 
And  thou,  in  lovers'  hearts  forgiven, 

Shalt  take  thy  place  with  Yarrow  ! 

This  poem  was  translated  into  Latin  verse  by  the  poet's  son,  and 
published  in  the  second  edition  of  Yarrow  revisited,  and  other  poems, 
1835.— ED. 

XL  VII. 
TO  CORDELIA  M ,t 

HALLSTEADS,   ULLSWATER. 

NOT  in  the  mines  beyond  the  western  main, 
You  say,  Cordelia,2  was  the  metal  sought, 
Which  a  fine  skill,  of  Indian  growth,  has  wrought 
Into  this  flexible  yet  faithful  Chain ; 

1  1835. 

From  vain  temptation          ....  MS. 

2  1845. 

You  tell  me,  Delia !  ....  1335. 


*  Compare  the  Ode  to  Duty  (Vol.  III.,  p.  31)— 

"From  vain  temptations  dost  set  free."  — ED. 

t  Cordelia  Marshall.— ED. 


MOST  SWEET  IT  IS  WITH  UNUPLIFTED  EYES.       389 

Nor  is  it  silver  of  romantic  Spain 
But  from  our  loved1  Helvellyn's  depths  was  brought, 
Our  own  domestic  mountain.     Thing  and  thought 
Mix  strangely ;  trifles  light,  and  partly  vain, 
Can  prop,  as  you  have  learnt,  our  nobler  being : 
Yes,  Lady,  while  about  your  neck  is  wound 
(Your  casual  glance  oft  meeting)  this  bright  cord, 
What  witchery,  for  pure  gifts  of  inward  seeing, 
Lurks  in  it,  Memory's  Helper,  Fancy's  Lord, 
For  precious  tremblings  in  your  bosom  found ! 


XLVIII. 

MOST  sweet  it  is  with  unuplifted  eyes 

To  pace  the  ground,  if  path  be  there  or  none, 

While  a  fair  region  round  the  traveller  lies 

Which  he  forbears  again  to  look  upon ; 

Pleased  rather  with  some  soft  ideal  scene, 

The  work  of  Fancy,  or  some  happy  tone 

Of  meditation,  slipping  in  between 

The  beauty  coming  and  the  beauty  gone.2 

If  Thought  and  Love  desert  us,  from  that  day 

Let  us  break  off  all  commerce  with  the  Muse  : 

With  Thought  and  Love  companions  of  our  way, 

Whate'er  the  senses  take  or  may  refuse, 

The  Mind's  internal  heaven  shall  shed  her  dews 

Of  inspiration  on  the  humblest  lay. 

1  1845. 

You  say,  but  from 1835. 

2  1835. 

Pleased  rather  with  that  soothing  after-tone 

Whose  seat  is  in  the  mind,  occasion's  Queen  ! 

Else  Nature's  noblest  objects  were  I  ween 

A  yoke  endured,  a  penance  undergone.  MS. 


390  NOT  IN  THE  LUCID  INTERVALS  OF  LIFE. 


1834. 

The  Poems  of  1834  include  four  of  the  Evening  Voluntaries— -the 
poet  was  54  years  of  age— The  Labourers  Noonday  Hymn,  the  Stanzas 
to  The  Redbreast,  and  some  Lines  suggested  by  portraits  and  written 
in  albums. 


Comp.  1834.     Pub.  1835. 

[The  lines  following  "nor  do  words"  were  written  with  Lord 
Byron's  character,  as  a  poet,  before  me,  and  that  of  others,  his 
contemporaries,  who  wrote  under  like  influences.] 

NOT  in  the  lucid  intervals  of  life 

That  come  but  as  a  curse  to  party  strife ; 

Not  in  some  hour  when  Pleasure  with  a  sigh 

Of  languor  puts  his  rosy  garland  by  ; 

Not  in  the  breathing-times  of  that  poor  slave 

Who  daily  piles  up  wealth  in  Mammon's  cave — 

Is  Nature  felt,  or  can  be ;  nor  do  words, 

Which  practised  talent*  readily  affords, 

Prove  that  her  hand  has  touched  responsive  chords ; 

Nor  has  her  gentle  beauty  power  to  move 

With  genuine  rapture  and  with  fervent  love 

The  soul  of  Genius,  if  he  dare1  to  take 

Life's  rule  from  passion  craved  for  passion's  sake  ; 

Untaught  that  meekness  is  the  cherished  bent 

Of  all  the  truly  great  and  all  the  innocent. 

But  who  is  innocent  ?     By  grace  divine, 
Not  otherwise,  0  Nature  !  we  are  thine, 
Through  good  and  evil  thine,  in  just  degree 
Of  rational  and  manly  sympathy. 

1  1837. 

dares          .         .         .  1835. 

*  See  the  Fen  wick  note.— ED. 


BY  THE  SIDE  OF  RYDAL  MERE.  391 

To  all  that  Earth  from  pensive  hearts  is  stealing, 
And  Heaven  is  now  to  gladdened  eyes  revealing, 
Add  every  charm  the  Universe  can  show 
Through  every  change  its  aspects  undergo — 
Care  may  be  respited,  but  not  repealed ; 
No  perfect  cure  grows  on  that  bounded  field. 
Vain  is  the  pleasure,  a  false  calm  the  peace, 
If  He,  through  whom  alone  our  conflicts  cease, 
Our  virtuous  hopes  without  relapse  advance, 
Come  not  to  speed  the  Soul's  deliverance ; 
To  the  distempered  Intellect  refuse 
His  gracious  help,  or  give  what  we  abuse. 


(BY  THE  SIDE  OF  EYDAL  MEEE.) 

Comp.  1834.     Pub.  1835. 

THE  linnet's  warble,  sinking  towards  a  close, 
Hints  to  the  thrush  'tis  time  for  their  repose ; 
The  shrill-voiced  thrush  is  heedless,  and  again 
The  monitor  revives  his  own  sweet  strain ; 
But  both  will  soon  be  mastered,  and  the  copse 
Be  left  as  silent  as  the  mountain-tops, 
Ere  some  commanding  star*  dismiss  to  rest 
The  throng  of  rooks,  that  now,  from  twig  or  nest, 
(After  a  steady  flight  on  home-bound  wings, 
And  a  last  game  of  mazy  hoverings 
Around  their  ancient  grove)  with  cawing  noise 
Disturb  the  liquid  music's  equipoise. 

*  Compare  the  Lines,  composed  in  1806,   in  expectation  of  Mr  Fox's 
Death— 

"  Yon  star  upon  the  mountain  top 
Is  listening  quietly. " 

—Vol.  IV.,  p.  43.— ED. 


392  BY  THE  SIDE  OF  EYDAL  MERE. 

0  Nightingale  !     Who  ever  heard  thy  song 
Might  here  be  moved,  till  Fancy  grows  so  strong 
That  listening  sense  is  pardonably  cheated 
Where  wood  or  stream  by  thee  was  never  greeted.* 
Surely,  from  fairest  spots  of  favoured  lands, 
Were  not  some  gifts  withheld  by  jealous  hands, 
This  hour  of  deepening  darkness  here  would  be 
As  a  fresh  morning  for  new  harmony ; 
And  lays  as  prompt  would  hail  the  dawn  of  Night : 
A  dawn  she  has  both  beautiful  and  bright, 
When  the  East  kindles  with  the  full  moon's  light ; 
Not  like  the  rising  sun's  impatient  glow 
Dazzling  the  mountains,  but  an  overflow 
Of  solemn  splendour,  in  mutation  slow. 

Wanderer  by  spring  with  gradual  progress  led, 
For  sway  profoundly  felt  as  widely  spread ; 
To  king,  to  peasant,  to  rough  sailor,  dear, 
And  to  the  soldier's  trumpet-wearied  ear ; 
How  welcome  wouldst  thou  be  to  this  green  Vale 
Fairer  than  Tempe  !  t  Yet,  sweet  Nightingale  ! 
From  the  warm  breeze  that  bears  thee  on,  alight 
At  will,  and  stay  thy  migratory  flight ; 
Build,  at  thy  choice,  or  sing,  by  pool  or  fount 
Who  shall  complain,  or  call  thee  to  account  ? 


*  The  nightingale  is  not  heard  in  England  farther  north  than  the  valley 
of  the  Trent. 

Compare  The  Excursion,  Book  IV.,  1.  1174  (Vol.  V.,  p.  192);  also  the 
lines  beginning 

"  0  Nightingale  !  thou  surely  art 
A  creature  of  a  fiery  heart." 

—Vol.  IV.,  p.  70.— ED. 

t  The  Thessalian  valley,  five  miles  long,  from  Olympus  to  Ossa,  through 
which  the  Peneus  made  its  way  to  the  JEgean  sea. — ED. 


SOFT  AS  A  CLOUD  IS  YON  BLUE  RTDGE — THE  MERE.      393 

The  wisest,  happiest,  of  our  kind  are  they 
That  ever  walk  content  with  Nature's  way, 
God's  goodness — measuring  bounty  as  it  may 
For  whom  the  gravest  thought  of  what  they  miss, 
Chastening  the  fulness  of  a  present  bliss, 
Is  with  that  wholesome  office  satisfied, 
While  unrepining  sadness  is  allied 
In  thankful  bosoms  to  a  modest  pride. 


Comp.  1834.     Pub.  1835. 

SOFT  as  a  cloud  is  yon  blue  Eidge — the  Mere* 

Seems  firm  as  solid  crystal,  breathless,  clear, 

And  motionless ;  and,  to  the  gazer's  eye, 

Deeper  than  ocean,  in  the  immensity 

Of  its  vague  mountains  and  unreal  sky  ! 

But,  from  the  process  in  that  still  retreat, 

Turn  to  minuter  changes  at  our  feet ; 

Observe  how  dewy  Twilight  has  withdrawn 

The  crowd  of  daisies  from  the  shaven  lawn, 

And  has  restored  to  view  its  tender  green, 

That,    while    the    sun    rode   high,   was   lost   beneath  their 

dazzling  sheen. 

— An  emblem  this  of  what  the  sober  Hour 
Can  do  for  minds  disposed  to  feel  its  power  ! 
Thus  oft,  when  we  in  vain  have  wish'd  away 
The  petty  pleasures  of  the  garish  day, 
Meek  eve  shuts  up  the  whole  usurping  host 
(Unbashful  dwarfs  each  glittering  at  his  post) 
And  leaves  the  disencumbered  spirit  free 
To  reassume  a  staid  simplicity. 

*  The  « mere  '  was  probably  Rydal,  and  the  '  ridge '  that  of  Silver  How. 
—ED. 


394    LEAVES  THAT  RUSTLED  ON  THIS  OAK-CROWNED  HILL. 

'Tis  well — but  what  are  helps  of  time  and  place, 
When  wisdom  stands  in  need  of  nature's  grace  : 
Why  do  good  thoughts,  invoked  or  not,  descend, 
Like  Angels  from  their  bowers,  our  virtues  to  befriend  ; 
If  yet  To-morrow,  unbelied,  may  say, 
"  I  come  to  open  out,  for  fresh  display, 
The  elastic  vanities  of  yesterday  ?" 


Comp.  1834.     Pub.  1835. 

[Composed  by  the  side  of  Grasmere  lake.  The  mountains  that 
enclose  the  vale,  especially  towards  Easdale,  are  most  favorable  to  the 
reverberation  of  sound.  There  is  a  passage  in  the  "Excursion"  to- 
wards the  close  of  the  fourth  book,  where  the  voice  of  the  raven  in 
flight  is  traced  through  the  modifications  it  undergoes,  as  I  have  often 
heard  it  in  that  vale  and  others  of  this  district.* 

"  Often,  at  the  hour 

When  issue  forth  the  first  pale  stars,  is  heard, 

Within  the  circuit  of  this  fabric  huge, 

One  voice — the  solitary  raven."] 

THE  leaves  that  rustled  on  this  oak-crowned  hill, 
And  sky  that  danced  among  those  leaves,  are  still ; 
Kest  smooths  the  way  for  sleep ;  in  field  and  bower 
Soft  shades  and  dews  have  shed  their  blended  power 
On  drooping  eyelid  and  the  closing  flower ; 
Sound  is  there  none  at  which  the  faintest  heart 
Might  leap,  the  weakest  nerve  of  superstition  start ; 
Save  when  the  Owlet's  unexpected  scream 
Pierces  the  ethereal  vault ;  and  (mid  the  gleam 
Of  unsubstantial  imagery,  the  dream, 
From  the  hushed  vales'  realities,  transferred 
To  the  still  lake)  the  imaginative  Bird 
Seems,  'mid  inverted  mountains,  not  unheard. 


*  See  also  the  extract  from  Dorothy  Wordsworth's  Journal,  in  the  note 
to  The  Excursion  (Vol.  V.,  p.  193).— ED. 


THE  LABOURER'S  NOON-DAY  HYMN.  395 

Grave  Creature  !— whether,  while  the  moon  shines  bright 
On  thy  wings  opened  wide  for  smoothest  flight, 
Thou  art  discovered  in  a  roofless  tower, 
Rising  from  what  may  once  have  been  a  lady's  bower ; 
Or  spied  where  thou  sitt'st  moping  in  thy  mew 
At  the  dim  centre  of  a  churchyard  yew ; 
Or,  from  a  rifted  crag  or  ivy  tod 
Deep  in  a  forest,  thy  secure  abode, 
Thou  giv'st,  for  pastime's  sake,  by  shriek  or  shout, 
A  puzzling  notice  of  thy  whereabout — 
May  the  night  never  come,  nor1  day  be  seen, 
When  I  shall  scorn  thy  voice,  or  mock  thy  mien  ! 

In  classic  ages  men  perceived  a  soul 
Of  sapience  in  thy  aspect,  headless  Owl ! 
Thee  Athens  reverenced  in  the  studious  grove  ;* 
And,  near  the  golden  sceptre  grasped  by  Jove, 
His  Eagle's  favourite  perch,  while  round  him  sate 
The  Gods  revolving  the  decrees  of  Fate, 
Thou,  too,  wert  present  at  Minerva's  side : — 
Hark  to  that  second  larum ! — far  and  wide 
The  elements  have  heard,  and  rock  and  cave  replied. 

1  1837. 

,  the        .        .        .  1835. 


THE  LABOURERS  NOON-DAY  HYMN 
Comp.  1834.     Pub.  1835. 

[Bishop  Ken's  Morning  and  Evening  Hymns  are,  as  they  deserve  to 
be,  familiarly  known.  Many  other  hymns  have  also  been  written  on 
the  same  subject ;  but,  not  being  aware  of  any  designed  for  noon-day, 
I  was  induced  to  compose  these  verses.  Often  one  has  occasion  to 
observe  cottage  children  carrying,  in  their  baskets,  dinner  to  their 

*  The  owl  became  the  emblem  of  Athens— and  was  associated  with 
Minerva— because  the  birds  abounded  there.— ED. 


396  THE  LABOURER'S  NOON-DAY  HYMN. 

Fathers  engaged  with  their  daily  labours  in  the  fields  and  woods. 
How  gratifying  would  it  be  to  me  could  I  be  assured  that  any  portion 
of  these  stanzas  had  been  sung  by  such  a  domestic  concert  under  such 
circumstances.  A  friend  of  mine  has  told  me  that  she  introduced  this 
Hymn  into  a  village-school  which  she  superintended,  and  the  stanzas 
in  succession  furnished  her  with  texts  to  comment  upon  in  a  way 
which  without  difficulty  was  made  intelligible  to  the  children,  and  in 
which  they  obviously  took  delight,  and  they  were  taught  to  sing  it  to 
the  tune  of  the  old  100th  Psalm.] 

UP  to  the  throne  of  God  is  borne 
The  voice  of  praise  at  early  morn, 
And  he  accepts  the  punctual  hymn 
Sung  as  the  light  of  day  grows  dim : 

Nor  will  he  turn  his  ear  aside 
From  holy  offerings  at  noontide : 
Then  here  reposing  let  us  raise 
A  song  of  gratitude  and  praise. 

What  though  our  burthen  be  not  light, 
We  need  not  toil  from  morn  to  night ; 
The  respite  of  the  mid-day  hour 
Is  in  the  thankful  Creature's  power. 

Blest  are  the  moments,  doubly  blest, 
That,  drawn  from  this  one  hour  of  rest, 
Are  with  a  ready  heart  bestowed 
Upon  the  service  of  our  God ! 

Each  field  is  then  a  hallowed  spot,1 
An  altar  is  in  each  man's  cot, 
A  church  in  every  grove  that  spreads 
Its  living  roof  above  our  heads. 

1  1845. 

Why  should  we  crave  a  hallowed  spot  ?  1835. 


THE  REDBREAST.  397 

Look  up  to  heaven !  the  industrious  Sun 
Already  half  his  race  hath  run ; 
He  cannot  halt  nor  go  astray, 
But  our  immortal  Spirits  may. 

Lord !  since  his  rising  in  the  East, 
If  we  have  faltered  or  transgressed, 
Guide,  from  thy  love's  abundant  source, 
What  yet  remains  of  this  day's  course : 

Help  with  thy  grace,  through  life's  short  day, 
Our  upward  and  our  downward  way ; 
And  glorify  for  us  the  west, 
When  we  shall  sink  to  final  rest. 


THE    EEDBEEAST. 

SUGGESTED   IN  A   WESTMORELAND   COTTAGE. 

Comp.  1834.        —    Pub.  1835. 

[Written  at  Rydal  Mount.  All  our  cats  having  been  banished  the 
house,  it  was  soon  frequented  by  redbreasts.  Two  or  three  of  them, 
when  the  window  was  open,  would  come  in,  particularly  when  Mrs 
Wordsworth  was  breakfasting  alone,  and  hop  about  the  table  picking 
up  the  crumbs.  My  sister  being  then  confined  to  her  room  by  sickness, 
as,  dear  creature,  she  still  is,  had  one  that,  without  being  caged,  took 
up  its  abode  with  her,  and  at  night  used  to  perch  upon  a  nail  from 
which  a  picture  had  hung.  It  used  to  sing  and  fan  her  face  with  its 
wings  in  a  manner  that  was  very  touching.] 

DEIYEN  in  by  Autumn's  sharpening  air 
Erom  half -stripped  woods  and  pastures  bare, 
Brisk  Eobin  seeks  a  kindlier  home : 
Not  like  a  beggar  is  he  come, 
But  enters  as  a  looked-for  guest, 
Confiding  in  his  ruddy  breast, 
As  if  it  were  a  natural  shield 
Charged  with  a  blazon  on  the  field, 


398  THE  REDBREAST. 

Due  to  that  good  and  pious  deed 

Of  which  we  in  the  Ballad  read. 

But  pensive  fancies  putting  by, 

And  wild-wood  sorrows,  speedily 

He  plays  the  expert  ventriloquist ; 

And,  caught  by  glimpses  now — now  missed, 

Puzzles  the  listener  with  a  doubt 

If  the  soft  voice  he  throws  about 

Comes  from  within  doors  or  without ! 

Was  ever  such  a  sweet  confusion, 

Sustained  by  delicate  illusion  ? 

He's  at  your  elbow — to  your  feeling 

The  notes  are  from  the  floor  or  ceiling  ; 

And  there's  a  riddle  to  be  guessed, 

Till  you  have  marked  his  heaving  chest 

And  busy  throat  whose  sink  and  swell1 

Betray  the  Elf  that  loves  to  dwell 

In  Robin's  bosom,  as  a  chosen  cell. 

Heart-pleased  we  smile  upon  the  Bird 
If  seen,  and  with  like  pleasure  stirred 
Commend  him,  when  he's  only  heard. 
But  small  and  fugitive  our  gain 
Compared  with  hers2  who  long  hath  lain, 
With  languid  limbs  and  patient  head 
Reposing  on  a  lone  sick-bed ; 
Where  now,  she3  daily  hears  a  strain 

1  1836. 

.     breast, 
Where  tiny  sinking,  and  faint  swell,  1835. 

2  1845. 

hl8       ...         1835. 

3  1845. 

he  1835. 


THE  REDBREAST.  399 

That  cheats  her1  of  too  busy  cares, 

Eases  her  pain,  and  helps  her  prayers.2 

And  who  but  this  dear  Bird  beguiled 

The  fever  of  that  pale-faced  Child 

Now  cooling,  with  his  passing  wing, 

Her  forehead,  like  a  breeze  of  Spring 

Recalling  now,  with  descant  soft 

Shed  round  her  pillow  from  aloft, 

Sweet  thoughts  of  angels  hovering  nigh, 

And  the  invisible  sympathy 

Of  '  Matthew,  Mark,  and  Luke,  and  John 

Blessing  the  bed  she  lies  upon  ?'* 
And  sometimes,  just  as  listening  ends 
In  slumber,  with  the  cadence  blends 
A  dream  of  that  low-warbled  hymn 
Which  old  folk,  fondly  pleased  to  trim 
Lamps  of  faith,  now  burning  dim, 
Say  that  the  Cherubs  carved  in  stone, 
When  clouds  gave  way  at  dead  of  night 
And  the  ancient  church  was  filled  with 
Used  to  sing  in  heavenly  tone, 
Above  and  round  the  sacred  places 
They  guard,  with  winged  baby-faces. 


1  1845. 

him          .        .  1835. 

2  1845. 

Eases  his  pain,  and  helps  his  prayers.  1835. 

3  183t5. 

And  the  moon  filled  the  church  with  light,  1835. 

*  The  words — 

"  Matthew,  Mark,  and  Luke,  and  John, 

Bless  the  bed  that  I  lie  on," 

are   part   of  a  child's  prayer,  still  in  general  use  through  the  northern 
counties.  —  W.  YV. ,  1 835. 


400  THE  REDBREAST. 

Thrice  happy  Creature !  in  all  lands 
Nurtured  by  hospitable  hands  : 
Free  entrance  to  this  cot  has  he, 
Entrance  and  exit  both  yet  free ; 
And,  when  the  keen  unruffled  weather 
That  thus  brings  man  and  bird  together, 
Shall  with  its  pleasantness  be  past, 
And  casement  closed  and  door  made  fast, 
To  keep  at  bay  the  howling  blast, 
He  needs  not  fear  the  season's  rage, 
For  the  whole  house  is  Robin's  cage. 
Whether  the  bird  flit  here  or  there, 
O'er  table  lilt,  or  perch  on  chair, 
Though  some  may  frown  and  make  a  stir 
To  scare  him  as  a  trespasser, 
And  he  belike  will  flinch  or  start, 
Good  friends  he  has  to  take  his  part ; 
One  chiefly,  who  with  voice  and  look 
Pleads  for  him  from  the  chimney-nook, 
Where  sits  the  Dame,  and  wears  away 
Her  long  and  vacant  holiday  ; 
With  images  about  her  heart, 
Eeflected  from  the  years  gone  by 
On  human  nature's  second  infancy. 


APPENDIX. 

NOTE  A. 
(See  p.  166.) 

In  a  letter  from  Mrs  Wordsworth  to  Lady  Beaumont,  dated  *  Kydal 
Mount,  Dec.  9th,'  and  probably  belonging  to  the  year  1828,  the  follow- 
ing occurs  : — 

"  I  am  to  send  you  a  corrected  copy  of  Sonnet  suggested  by  you." 
Then  follows  the  sonnet,  as  printed  below. 

It  will  be  observed  that  what  was  sent  to  Lady  Beaumont  differs 
throughout  from  the  sonnet  as  printed  in  the  text ;  and  that,  in  the 
Fen  wick  note,  Wordsworth  says  it  describes  "Lady  Fitzgerald,"  and 
not  Lady  Beaumont.  It  is  just  possible  that  Mrs  Wordsworth  meant 
that  it  was  suggested  by  Lady  Beaumont's  description  of  Lady  Fitz- 
gerald ;  but  the  difference  between  the  two  versions  of  the  sonnet  is 
noteworthy  :  and  if  what  Mrs  Wordsworth  sent  to  Coleorton  was 
"  corrected,"  we  may  infer  that  the  poet  preferred  it  to  the  printed 
copy  in  the  edition  of  1827. 

Lady,  what  delicate  graces  may  unite 

In  age — so  often  comfortless  and  bleak  ! 

Though  from  thy  unenfeebled  eye-balls  break 

Those  saintly  emanations  of  delight, 

A  snow-drop  let  me  name  thee  ;  pure,  chaste,  white, 

Too  pure  for  flesh  and  blood  ;  with  smooth,  blanch'd  cheek, 

And  head  that  droops  because  the  soul  is  meek, 

And  not  that  Time  presses  with  weary  weight. 

Hope,  Love,  and  Joy  are  with  thee  fresh  as  fair  ; 

A  Child  of  Winter  prompting  thoughts  that  climb 

From  desolation  towards  the  genial  prime  : 

Or,  like  the  moon,  conquering  the  misty  air 

And  filling  more  and  more  with  chrystal  light, 

As  pensive  evening  deepens  into  night. 


vii.  2  c 


TURNBULL  AND  S?'EAKS,  PRINTERS,  EDINBURGH.