 |
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
That ... 1807.]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Not doom'd to jostle with ... 1807.
Not framed to undergo ... 1815.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: See Carver's Description of his Situation upon one of the Lakes of America.—W. W. 1807.]
These stanzas were addressed to Hartley Coleridge. The lines,
'I think of thee with many fears For what may be thy lot in future years,'
taken in connection with his subsequent career, suggest the similarly sad "presentiment" with which the 'Lines composed above Tintern Abbey' conclude. The following is the postscript to a letter by his father, S. T. C., addressed to Sir Humphry Davy, Keswick, July 25, 1800:
"Hartley is a spirit that dances on an aspen leaf; the air that yonder sallow-faced and yawning tourist is breathing, is to my babe a perpetual nitrous oxide. Never was more joyous creature born. Pain with him is so wholly trans-substantiated by the joys that had rolled on before, and rushed on after, that oftentimes five minutes after his mother has whipt him he has gone up and asked her to whip him again."
('Fragmentary Remains, Literary and Scientific', of Sir Humphry Davy, Bart., pp. 78, 79.)—Ed.
* * * * *
TO THE DAISY
Composed 1802.—Published 1807
"Her [A] divine skill taught me this, That from every thing I saw I could some instruction draw, And raise pleasure to the height Through the meanest object's sight. By the murmur of a spring, Or the least bough's rustelling; By a Daisy whose leaves spread Shut when Titan goes to bed; Or a shady bush or tree; She could more infuse in me Than all Nature's beauties can In some other wiser man."
G. WITHER. [1]
[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.
In youth from rock to rock I went, From hill to hill in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent, Most pleased when most uneasy; But now my own delights I make,—5 My thirst at every rill can slake, [2] And gladly Nature's love partake, Of Thee, sweet Daisy! [3]
Thee Winter in the garland wears That thinly decks his few grey hairs; 10 Spring parts the clouds with softest airs, That she may sun thee; [4] Whole Summer-fields are thine by right; And Autumn, melancholy Wight! Doth in thy crimson head delight 15 When rains are on thee.
In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Thou greet'st the traveller in the lane; Pleased at his greeting thee again; Yet nothing daunted, 20 Nor grieved if thou be set at nought: [5] And oft alone in nooks remote We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
Be violets in their secret mews 25 The flowers the wanton Zephyrs choose; Proud be the rose, with rains and dews Her head impearling, Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim, Yet hast not gone without thy fame; 30 Thou art indeed by many a claim The Poet's darling.
If to a rock from rains he fly, Or, some bright day of April sky, Imprisoned by hot sunshine lie 35 Near the green holly, And wearily at length should fare; He needs [6] but look about, and there Thou art!—a friend at hand, to scare His melancholy. 40
A hundred times, by rock or bower, Ere thus I have lain couched an hour, Have I derived from thy sweet power Some apprehension; Some steady love; some brief delight; [7] 45 Some memory that had taken flight; Some chime [8] of fancy wrong or right; Or stray invention.
If stately passions in me burn, And one [9] chance look to Thee should turn, 50 I drink out of an humbler urn A lowlier pleasure; The homely sympathy that heeds The common life, our nature breeds; A wisdom fitted to the needs 55 Of hearts at leisure.
Fresh-smitten by the morning ray, When thou art up, alert and gay, Then, cheerful Flower! my spirits play With kindred gladness: [10] 60 And when, at dusk, by dews opprest Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest Hath often eased my pensive breast Of careful sadness. [11]
And all day long I number yet, 65 All seasons through, another debt, Which I, wherever thou art met, To thee am owing; [12] An instinct call it, a blind sense; A happy, genial influence, 70 Coming one knows not how, nor whence, Nor whither going.
Child of the Year! that round dost run Thy pleasant course,—when day's begun As ready to salute the sun 75 As lark or leveret, Thy long-lost praise thou shalt regain; [B] Nor be less dear to future men Than in old time;—thou not in vain [13] Art Nature's favourite. [C] 80
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: The extract from Wither was first prefixed to this poem in the edition of 1815. The late Mr. Dykes Campbell was of opinion that Charles Lamb had suggested this motto to Wordsworth, as 'The Shepherd's Hunting' was Lamb's "prime favourite" amongst Wither's poems. It may be as well to note that his quotation was erroneous in two places. His "instruction" should be "invention" (l. 3), and his "the" (in l. 4) should be "her."—Ed.]
[Variant 2:
1807.
To gentle sympathies awake, MS.]
[Variant 3:
1807.
And Nature's love of Thee partake, Her much-loved Daisy! 1836.
The text of 1840 returns to the reading of 1807.
Of her sweet Daisy. C.]
[Variant 4:
1836.
When soothed a while by milder airs, Thee Winter in the garland wears That thinly shades his few grey hairs; Spring cannot shun thee; 1807.
When Winter decks his few grey hairs Thee in the scanty wreath he wears; Spring parts the clouds with softest airs, That she may sun thee; 1827.]
[Variant 5:
1836.
... in the lane; If welcome once thou count'st it gain; Thou art not daunted, Nor car'st if thou be set at naught; 1807.
If welcom'd ... 1815.
The text of 1827 returns to that of 1807.]
[Variant 6:
1820
He need..... 1807]
[Variant 7:
1807
....some chance delight; MS.]
[Variant 8:
1807
Some charm..... C.]
[Variant 9:
1807
And some..... MS.]
[Variant 10:
1836.
When, smitten by the morning ray, I see thee rise alert and gay, Then, chearful Flower! my spirits play With kindred motion: 1807.
With kindred gladness: 1815.
Then Daisy! do my spirits play, With cheerful motion. MS.]
[Variant 11:
1815.
At dusk, I've seldom mark'd thee press The ground, as if in thankfulness Without some feeling, more or less, Of true devotion. 1807.
The ground in modest thankfulness MS.]
[Variant 12:
1807.
But more than all I number yet O bounteous Flower! another debt Which I to thee wherever met Am daily owing; MS.]
[Variant 13:
1836.
Child of the Year! that round dost run Thy course, bold lover of the sun, And chearful when the day's begun As morning Leveret, Thou long the Poet's praise shalt gain; Thou wilt be more belov'd by men In times to come; thou not in vain 1807.
Thy long-lost praise thou shalt regain; Dear shalt thou be to future men As in old time;—1815.
Dear thou shalt be 1820.
The text of 1827 returns to that of 1815.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: His Muse.—W. W. 1815.
The extract is from 'The Shepherds Hunting', eclogue fourth, ll. 368-80.—Ed.]
[Footnote B: See, in Chaucer and the elder Poets, the honours formerly paid to this flower.—W. W. 1815.]
[Footnote C: This Poem, and two others to the same Flower, which the Reader will find in the second Volume, were written in the year 1802; which is mentioned, because in some of the ideas, though not in the manner in which those ideas are connected, and likewise even in some of the expressions, they bear a striking resemblance to a Poem (lately published) of Mr. Montgomery, entitled, 'A Field Flower'. This being said, Mr. Montgomery will not think any apology due to him; I cannot however help addressing him in the words of the Father of English Poets:
'Though it happe me to rehersin— That ye han in your freshe songis saied, Forberith me, and beth not ill apaied, Sith that ye se I doe it in the honour Of Love, and eke in service of the Flour.'
W. W. 1807.
In the edition of 1836, the following variation of the text of this note occurs: "There is a resemblance to passages in a Poem."—Ed.]
For illustration of the last stanza, see Chaucer's Prologue to 'The Legend of Good Women'.
'As I seyde erst, whanne comen is the May, That in my bed ther daweth me no day, That I nam uppe and walkyng in the mede, To seen this floure agein the sonne sprede, Whan it up rysith erly by the morwe; That blisful sight softneth al my sorwe, So glad am I, whan that I have presence Of it, to doon it alle reverence, As she that is of alle floures flour.' ... To seen this flour so yong, so fresshe of hewe, Constreynde me with so gredy desire, That in myn herte I feele yet the fire, That made me to ryse er yt wer day, And this was now the firste morwe of May, With dredful hert, and glad devocioun For to ben at the resurreccion Of this flour, whan that yt shulde unclose Agayne the sonne, that roos as rede as rose ... And doune on knes anoon ryght I me sette, And as I koude, this fresshe flour I grette, Knelying alwey, til it unclosed was, Upon the smale, softe, swote gras.
Again, in The 'Cuckoo and the Nightingale', after a wakeful night, the Poet rises at dawn, and wandering forth, reaches a "laund of white and green."
'So feire oon had I nevere in bene, The grounde was grene, y poudred with dayse, The floures and the gras ilike al hie, Al grene and white, was nothing elles sene.'
Ed.
* * * * *
TO THE SAME FLOWER [A]
Composed 1802.—Published 1807
[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere.-I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.
With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Daisy! again I talk to thee, [1] For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming Common-place 5 Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace, Which Love makes for thee!
Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, [2] 10 Loose types of things through all degrees, Thoughts of thy raising: And many a fond and idle name I give to thee, for praise or blame, As is the humour of the game, 15 While I am gazing.
A nun demure of lowly port; Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court, In thy simplicity the sport Of all temptations; 20 A queen in crown of rubies drest; A starveling in a scanty vest; Are all, as seems [3] to suit thee best, Thy appellations.
A little cyclops, with one eye 25 Staring to threaten and defy, That thought comes next—and instantly The freak is over, The shape will vanish—and behold A silver shield with boss of gold, 30 That spreads itself, some faery bold In fight to cover!
I see thee glittering from afar— And then thou art a pretty star; Not quite so fair as many are 35 In heaven above thee! Yet like a star, with glittering crest, Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;— May peace come never to his nest, Who shall reprove thee! 40
Bright Flower! [4] for by that name at last, When all my reveries are past, I call thee, and to that cleave fast, Sweet silent creature! That breath'st with me in sun and air, 45 Do thou, as thou art wont, repair My heart with gladness, and a share Of thy meek nature!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee, 1807.
Yet once again I talk . . 1836.]
[Variant 2:
1820.
Oft do I sit by thee at ease, And weave a web of similies, 1807.]
[Variant 3:
1827.
... seem ... 1807.]
[Variant 4:
1836.
Sweet Flower!.... 1807.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The two following Poems were overflowings of the mind in composing the one which stands first in the first Volume (i.e. the previous Poem),—W. W. 1807.]
In his editions 1836-1849 Wordsworth gave 1805 as the year in which this poem was composed, but the Fenwick note prefixed to it renders this impossible. It evidently belongs to the same time, and "mood," as the previous poem.—Ed.
* * * * *
TO THE DAISY (#2)
Composed 1802.—Published 1807
[This and the other Poems addressed to the same flower were composed at Town-end, Grasmere, during the earlier part of my residence there. I have been censured for the last line but one—"thy function apostolical"—as being little less than profane. How could it be thought so? The word is adopted with reference to its derivation, implying something sent on a mission; and assuredly this little flower, especially when the subject of verse, may be regarded, in its humble degree, as administering both to moral and to spiritual purposes.—I.F.]
This was included among the "Poems of the Fancy" from 1815 to 1832. In 1837 it was transferred to the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."—Ed.
Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere, Bold in maternal Nature's care, And all the long year through the heir [1] Of joy and [2] sorrow. Methinks that there abides in thee 5 Some concord [3] with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest thorough!
Is it that Man is soon deprest? [4] A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest, 10 Does little on his memory rest, Or on his reason, And [5] Thou would'st teach him how to find A shelter under every wind, A hope for times that are unkind 15 And every season?
Thou wander'st the wide world about, Uncheck'd by pride or scrupulous doubt, With friends to greet thee, or without, Yet pleased and willing; 20 Meek, yielding to the occasion's call, And all things suffering from all, Thy function apostolical In peace fulfilling. [6]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1840.
Bright Flower, whose home is every where! A Pilgrim bold in Nature's care, And all the long year through the heir 1807.
Bright flower, whose home is every where! A Pilgrim bold in Nature's care, And oft, the long year through, the heir 1827.
Confiding Flower, by Nature's care Made bold,—who, lodging here or there, Art all the long year through the heir 1837.]
[Variant 2:
1850.
... or ... 1807.]
[Variant 3:
1807.
Communion ... 1837.
The text of 1840 returns to that of 1807.]
[Variant 4:
1807.
And wherefore? Man is soon deprest; 1827.
The text of 1837 returns to that of 1807.]
[Variant 5:
1807.
But ... 1827.
The text of 1837 returns to that of 1807.]
[Variant 6:
1807.
This stanza was omitted in the editions of 1827 and 1832, but replaced in 1837.]
The three preceding poems 'To the Daisy' evidently belong to the same time, and are, as Wordsworth expressly says, "overflowings of the mind in composing the one which stands first." Nevertheless, in the revised edition of 1836-7, he gave the date 1802 to the first, 1803 to the third, and 1805 to the second of them. In the earlier editions 1815 to 1832, they are all classed among the "Poems of the Fancy," but in the edition of 1837, and afterwards, the last, "Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere," is ranked among the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection." They should manifestly be placed together. Wordsworth's fourth poem 'To the Daisy', which is an elegy on his brother John, and belongs to a subsequent year—having no connection with the three preceding poems, will be found in its chronological place.—Ed.
* * * * *
LOUISA
AFTER ACCOMPANYING HER ON A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION
Composed 1802.—Published 1807
[Town-end 1805.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections." From 1807 to 1832 the title was simply 'Louisa'.—Ed.
I met Louisa in the shade, And, having seen that lovely Maid, Why should I fear to say [1] That, nymph-like, she is fleet and strong, [2] And down the rocks can leap along 5 Like rivulets in May? [3] She loves her fire, her cottage-home; Yet o'er the moorland will she roam In weather rough and bleak; And, when against the wind she strains, 10 Oh! might I kiss the mountain rains That sparkle on her cheek.
Take all that's mine "beneath the moon," [A] If I with her but half a noon May sit beneath the walls 15 Of some old cave, or mossy nook, When up she winds along the brook [4] To hunt the waterfalls.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1807.
Though, by a sickly taste betrayed, Some will dispraise the lovely Maid, With fearless pride I say 1836.
The text of 1845 returns to that of 1807.]
[Variant 2:
1845.
That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong; 1807.
That she is healthful, ... 1836.]
[Variant 3: In the editions of 1807 to 1843 occurs the following verse, which was omitted from subsequent editions:
And she hath smiles to earth unknown; Smiles, that with motion of their own Do spread, and sink, and rise; That come and go with endless play, And ever, as they pass away, Are hidden in her eyes.]
[Variant 4:
1807.
When she goes barefoot up the brook MS.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Compare Young's 'Night Thoughts', where the phrase occurs three times. See also 'Lear', act IV. scene vi. l. 26:
'For all beneath the moon.'
Haywood, 'The English Traveller', v. 1:
'All things that dwell beneath the moon.'
It was also used by William Drummond, in one of his sonnets,
'I know that all beneath the moon decays.'
Ed.]
Wordsworth gave as the date of the composition of this poem the year 1805; but he said of the following one, 'To a Young Lady, who had been Reproached for taking Long Walks in the Country'—"composed at the same time" and "designed to make one piece"—that it was written in 1803.
But it is certain that these following lines appeared in 'The Morning Post', on Feb. 12, 1802, where they are headed 'To a beautiful Young Lady, who had been harshly spoken of on account of her fondness for taking long walks in the Country'. There is difficulty, both in ascertaining the exact date of composition, and in knowing who "Louisa" or the "Young Lady" was. Mrs. Millicent G. Fawcett wrote to me several years ago, suggesting, with some plausibility, a much earlier date, if Dorothy Wordsworth was the lady referred to. She referred me to Dorothy's letter to her aunt, Mrs. Crackenthorpe, written from Windybrow, Keswick, in 1794, when staying there with her brother; and says
"What inclined me to think that the poem was written earlier than 1805 was that it anticipates Dorothy's marriage, and this would more naturally be present as a probable event in W. W.'s mind in 1794 or thereabouts than in 1805, after Dorothy had dedicated her life to her brother, to the exclusion of all wish to make a home of her own by marriage. The expression 'Healthy as a shepherd boy' is also more applicable to a girl of twenty-two than to a woman of thirty-three. Do you think it possible that the poem may have been written in 1794, and not published till later, when its application would be less evident to the family circle?"
Dorothy Wordsworth's letter will be quoted in full in a later volume, but the following extract from it may be given now:
"I cannot pass unnoticed that part of your letter in which you speak of my 'rambling about the country on foot.' So far from considering this as a matter for condemnation I rather thought it would have given my friends pleasure that I had courage to make use of the strength with which Nature has endowed me, when it not only procured me infinitely more pleasure than I should have received from sitting in a post-chaise, but was also the means of saving me at least thirty shillings."
I do not think the date of composition can be so early as 1794. What may be called internal, or structural, evidence is against it. Wordsworth never could have written these two poems till after his settlement at Dove Cottage. Besides, in 1794, he could have no knowledge of a possible "nest in a green dale, a harbour and a hold"; while at that time his sister had certainly no "cottage home." I believe they were written after he took up his residence at Town-end (the date being uncertain); and that they refer to his sister, and not to his wife. It has been suggested by Mr. Ernest Coleridge (see 'The Athenaeum', Oct. 21, 1893) that they refer to Mary Hutchinson: but there is no evidence of Wordsworth taking long country walks with her before their marriage, or that she was "nymph-like," "fleet and strong," that she loved to "roam the moorland," "in weather rough and bleak," or that she "hunted waterfalls." The reference to his sister is confirmed by the omission of the delightful second stanza of the poem in the last edition revised by the poet, that of 1849, when she was a confirmed invalid at Rydal Mount. Those "smiles to earth unknown," had then ceased for ever. The reason why Wordsworth erased so delightful and wonderful a stanza, is to me only explicable on the supposition, that it was his sister he referred to, she who had accompanied him in former days, in so many of his "long walks in the country." His wife never did this; she had not the physical strength to do it; and, if she had been the person referred to, Wordsworth would hardly, in 1845, have erased such a description of her, as occurs in the stanza written in 1802, when she was still so vigorous. Besides, Mary Wordsworth was in no sense "a Child of Nature," as Dorothy was: while the testimony of the Wordsworth household is explicit, that it was to his sister, and not to his wife, that the poet referred. I find no difficulty in the allusion made in the second poem to Dorothy being yet possibly a "Wife and Friend"; nor to the fact that it was originally addressed "To a beautiful Young Lady." Neither Dorothy nor Mary Wordsworth were physically "beautiful," according to our highest standards; although the poet addressed the latter as "a Phantom of delight," and as "a lovely apparition." It is quite true that it was Mary Wordsworth's old age that was "serene and bright," while Dorothy's was the very reverse; but the poet's anticipation of the future was written when his sister was young, and was by far the stronger of the two.—Ed.
* * * * *
TO A YOUNG LADY, WHO HAD BEEN REPROACHED FOR TAKING LONG WALKS IN THE COUNTRY [A]
Composed 1802.—Published 1807
[Composed at the same time and on the same view as "I met Louisa in the shade:" indeed they were designed to make one piece.—I.F.]
From 1815 to 1832 this was classed among the "Poems proceeding from Sentiment and Reflection." In 1836 it was transferred to the group of "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
Dear Child of Nature, let them rail! —There is a nest in a green dale, A harbour and a hold; Where thou, a Wife and Friend, shalt see Thy own heart-stirring days, [1] and be 5 A light to young and old.
There, healthy as a shepherd boy, And treading among flowers of joy Which at no season fade, [2] Thou, while thy babes around thee cling, 10 Shalt show us how divine a thing A Woman may be made.
Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die, Nor leave thee, when grey hairs are nigh A melancholy slave; 15 But an old age serene [3] and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1836.
Thy own delightful days, ... 1802.]
[Variant 2:
1836.
As if thy heritage were joy, And pleasure were thy trade. 1802.
And treading among flowers of joy, That at no season fade, 1827.]
[Variant 3:
1815.
... alive ... 1802.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: For the original title of this poem,—as published in 'The Morning Post and Gazetteer',—see the note to the previous poem. When first published it was unsigned.—Ed.]
See the editorial note to the preceding poem.—Ed.
* * * * *
1803
The poems associated with the year 1803 consist mainly of the "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland," which Wordsworth and his sister took—along with Coleridge—in the autumn of that year, although many of these were not written till some time after the Tour was finished. 'The Green Linnet' and 'Yew-trees' were written in 1803, and some sonnets were composed in the month of October; but, on the whole, 1803 was not a fruitful year in Wordsworth's life, as regards his lyrics and smaller poems. Doubtless both 'The Prelude' and 'The Excursion' were revised in 1803.—Ed.
* * * * *
THE GREEN LINNET
Composed 1803.—Published 1807
[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere, where the bird was often seen as here described.—I.F.]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet 5 To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last year's friends together. [1]
One have I marked, the happiest guest In all this covert of the blest: 10 Hail to Thee, far above the rest In joy of voice and pinion! Thou, Linnet! in thy green array, Presiding Spirit here to-day, Dost lead the revels of the May; 15 And this is thy dominion.
While birds, and butterflies, and flowers, Make all one band of paramours, Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, Art sole in thy employment: 20 A Life, a Presence like the Air, Scattering thy gladness without care, Too blest with any one to pair; Thyself thy own enjoyment.
Amid [2] yon tuft of hazel trees, 25 That twinkle to the gusty breeze, Behold him perched in ecstacies, Yet seeming still to hover; There! where the flutter of his wings Upon his back and body flings 30 Shadows and sunny glimmerings, That cover him all over.
My dazzled sight he oft deceives, A Brother of the dancing leaves; Then flits, and from the cottage-eaves 35 Pours forth his song in gushes; [3] As if by that exulting strain He mocked and treated with disdain The voiceless Form he chose to feign, While fluttering in the bushes. [4] 40
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1827.
The May is come again:—how sweet To sit upon my Orchard-seat! And Birds and Flowers once more to greet, My last year's Friends together: My thoughts they all by turns employ; A whispering Leaf is now my joy, And then a Bird will be the toy That doth my fancy tether. 1807.
And Flowers and Birds once more to greet, 1815.
The text of 1815 is otherwise identical with that of 1827.]
[Variant 2:
1845.
Upon ... 1807.]
[Variant 3:
1845.
While thus before my eyes he gleams, A Brother of the Leaves he seems; When in a moment forth he teems His little song in gushes: 1807.
My sight he dazzles, half deceives, A Bird so like the dancing Leaves; Then flits, and from the Cottage eaves Pours forth his song in gushes; 1827.
My dazzled sight the Bird deceives, A Brother of the dancing Leaves; 1832.
The Bird my dazzled sight deceives, 1840.
The Bird my dazzling sight deceives C.]
[Variant 4:
1827.
As if it pleas'd him to disdain And mock the Form which he did feign, While he was dancing with the train Of Leaves among the bushes. 1807.
The voiceless Form he chose to feign, 1820.]
Of all Wordsworth's poems this is the one most distinctively associated with the Orchard, at Town-end, Grasmere. Dorothy Wordsworth writes in her Journal under date May 28th, 1802:
"We sat in the orchard. The young bull-finches in their pretty coloured raiment, bustle about among the blossoms, and poise themselves like wire-dancers or tumblers, shaking the twigs and dashing off the blossoms."
Ed.
* * * * *
YEW-TREES
Composed 1803.—Published 1815
[Written at Grasmere. These Yew-trees are still standing, but the spread of that at Lorton is much diminished by mutilation. I will here mention that a little way up the hill, on the road leading from Rosthwaite to Stonethwaite (in Borrowdale) lay the trunk of a Yew-tree, which appeared as you approached, so vast was its diameter, like the entrance of a cave, and not a small one. Calculating upon what I have observed of the slow growth of this tree in rocky situations, and of its durability, I have often thought that the one I am describing must have been as old as the Christian era. The Tree lay in the line of a fence. Great masses of its ruins were strewn about, and some had been rolled down the hillside and lay near the road at the bottom. As you approached the tree, you were struck with the number of shrubs and young plants, ashes, etc., which had found a bed upon the decayed trunk and grew to no inconsiderable height, forming, as it were, a part of the hedgerow. In no part of England, or of Europe, have I ever seen a yew-tree at all approaching this in magnitude, as it must have stood. By the bye, Hutton, the old guide, of Keswick, had been so impressed with the remains of this tree, that he used gravely to tell strangers that there could be no doubt of its having been in existence before the flood.—I.F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore: Not loth to furnish weapons for the bands Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched 5 To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea And drew their sounding bows at Azincour, Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers. Of vast circumference and gloom profound This solitary Tree! a living thing 10 Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed. But worthier still of note Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; 15 Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved; Nor uninformed with Phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane;—a pillared shade, 20 Upon whose grassless floor of red-brown hue, By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged Perennially—beneath whose sable roof Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, decked With unrejoicing berries—ghostly Shapes 25 May meet at noontide; Fear and trembling Hope, Silence and Foresight; Death the Skeleton And Time the Shadow;—there to celebrate, As in a natural temple scattered o'er With altars undisturbed of mossy stone, 30 United worship; or in mute repose To lie, and listen to the mountain flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves.
The text of this poem was never altered. The Lorton Yew-tree—which, in 1803, was "of vast circumference," the "pride of Lorton Vale," and described as:
'a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed—'
does not now verify its poet's prediction of the future. Mr. Wilson Robinson of Whinfell Hall, Cockermouth, wrote to me of it in May 1880:
"The tree in outline expanded towards the root considerably: then, at about two feet from the ground, the trunk began to separate into huge limbs, spreading in all directions. I once measured this trunk at its least circumference, and found it 23 feet 10 inches. For the last 50 or 60 years the branches have been gradually dying on the S. E. side, and about 25 years ago a strong S. E. gale, coming with accumulated force down Hope Gill, and—owing to the tree being so open on that side—taking it laterally at a disadvantage, wrenched off one of the great side branches down to the ground, carrying away nearly a third of the tree. This event led to farther peril; for, the second portion having been sold to a cabinetmaker at Whitehaven for L15, this gave the impression that the wood was very valuable (owing to the celebrity of the tree); and a local woodmonger bought the remainder. Two men worked half a day to grub it up; but a Cockermouth medical gentleman, hearing what was going on, made representations to the owner, and it ended in the woodmen sparing the remainder of the tree, which was not much the worse for what had been done. Many large dead branches have also been cut off, and now we have to regret that the 'pride of Lorton Vale,' shorn of its ancient dignity, is but a ruin, much more venerable than picturesque."
The "fraternal Four of Borrowdale" are certainly "worthier still of note." The "trunk" described in the Fenwick note, as on the road between Rosthwaite and Stonethwaite, has disappeared long ago; but the "solemn and capacious grove" existed till 1883 in its integrity. The description in the poem is realistic throughout, while the visible scene suggests
"an ideal grove, in which the ghostly masters of mankind meet, and sleep, and offer worship to the Destiny that abides above them, while the mountain flood, as if from another world, makes music to which they dimly listen."
(Stopford A. Brooke, in 'Theology in the English Poets', p. 259.) With the first part of the poem Wordsworth's 'Sonnet composed at——Castle' during the Scotch Tour of 1803 may be compared (p. 410). For a critical estimate of the poem see 'Modern Painters', part III. sec. II, chap. iv. Ruskin alludes to "the real and high action of the imagination in Wordsworth's 'Yew-trees' (perhaps the most vigorous and solemn bit of forest landscape ever painted). It is too long to quote, but the reader should refer to it: let him note especially, if painter, that pure touch of colour, 'by sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged.'" See also Coleridge's criticism in 'Biographia Literaria', vol. ii. p. 177, edition 1847, and his daughter Sara's comment on her father's note. There can be little doubt that, as Professor Dowden has suggested, the lines 23 to 28 were suggested to Wordsworth by Virgil's lines in the Sixth Book of the 'AEneid', 273-284—
'Vestibulum ante ipsum primisque in faucibus Orci Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae; Pallentesque habitant Morbi, tristisque Senectus, Et Metus, et malesuada Fames, ac turpis Egestas, Terribiles visu formae, Letumque, Labosque; Tum consanguineus Leti Sopor, et mala mentis Gaudia, mortiferumque adverso in limine Bellum, Ferreique Eumenidum thalami, et Discordia demens, Vipereum crinem vittis innexa cruentis. In medio ramos annosaque bracchia pandit Ulmus opaca, ingens, quam sedem Somnia volgo Vana tenere ferunt, foliisque sub omnibus haerent.'
"The 'Four Yew Trees,' and the mysterious company which you have assembled there, 'Death the Skeleton and Time the Shadow.' It is a sight not for every youthful poet to dream of; it is one of the last results he must have gone thinking for years for."
(Charles Lamb to Wordsworth, 1815.)
In Crabb Robinson's 'Diary', a reference to the Yew-trees of Lorton and Borrowdale will be found under date Sept. 16 and 20, 1816.
"The pride of Lorton Vale" is now a ruin, and has lost all its ancient majesty: but, until the close of 1883, the "fraternal four" of Borrowdale were still to be seen "in grand assemblage." Every one who has felt the power of Wordsworth's poetry,—and especially those who had visited the Seathwaite valley, and read the 'Yew-Trees' under the shade of that once "solemn and capacious grove" before 1884,—must have felt as if they had lost a personal friend, when they heard that the "grove" was gone. The great gale of December 11, 1883, smote it fiercely, uprooting one of the trees, and blowing the others to ribbands. The following is Mr. Rawnsley's account of the disaster:
'Last week the gale that ravaged England did the Lake country much harm. We could spare many of the larch plantations, and could hear (with a sigh) of the fall of the giant Scotch firs opposite the little Scafell Inn at Rosthwaite, and that Watendlath had lost its pines; but who could spare those ancient Yews, the great
"... fraternal Four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved."
'For beneath their pillared shade since Wordsworth wrote his poem, that Yew-tree grove has suggested to many a wanderer up Borrowdale, and visitant to the Natural Temple,
"an ideal grove in which the ghostly masters of mankind meet, and sleep, and offer worship to the Destiny that abides above them, while the mountain flood, as if from another world, makes music to which they dimly listen."
'These Yew-trees, seemingly
"Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed,"
'have been ruthlessly overthrown. One has been uprooted bodily; all the leaders and branches of the others have been wrenched from the main trunk; and the three still standing are bare poles and broken wreckage. Until one visits the spot one can have no conception of the wholesale destruction that the hurricane has wrought; until he looks on the huge rosy-hearted branches he cannot guess the tremendous force with which the tornado had fallen upon that "sable roof of boughs."
'For tornado or whirlwind it must needs have been. The Yews grew under the eastern flank of the hill called Base Brown. The gale raged from the westward. One could hardly believe it possible that the trees could have been touched by it; for the barrier hill on which they grew,—and under whose shelter they have seen centuries of storm,—goes straight upwards, betwixt them and the west. It was only realizable when, standing amid the wreckage, and looking across the valley, it was seen that a larch plantation had been entirely levelled, and evidently by a wind that was coming from the east, and directly toward the Yew-trees. On enquiring at Seathwaite Farm, one found that all the slates blown from the roof of that building on the west side, had been whirled up clean over the roof: and we can only surmise that the winds rushing from the west and north-west, and meeting the bastions of Glaramara and the Sty-head slopes, were whirled round in the 'cul-de-sac' of the valley, and moved with churning motion back from east to west over the Seathwaite Farm, and so in straight line across the beck, and up the slope to the Yew-tree cluster. With what a wrenching, and with what violence, these trees were in a moment shattered, only those can guess who now witness the ruins of the pillared shade, upon the "grassless floor of red-brown hue."'"
Ed.
* * * * *
"WHO FANCIED WHAT A PRETTY SIGHT"
Composed 1803.—Published 1807
In the edition of 1807 this poem was No. VIII. of the series entitled "Moods of my own Mind." It was afterwards included among the "Poems of the Fancy," and in a MS. copy it was named "The Coronet of Snowdrops."—Ed.
Who fancied what a pretty sight This Rock would be if edged around With living snow-drops? circlet bright! How glorious to this orchard-ground! Who loved the little Rock, and set 5 Upon its head this coronet?
Was it the humour of a child? Or rather of some gentle [1] maid, Whose brows, the day that she was styled The shepherd-queen, were thus arrayed? 10 Of man mature, or matron sage? Or old man toying with his age?
I asked—'twas whispered; The device To each and [2] all might well belong: It is the Spirit of Paradise 15 That prompts such work, a Spirit strong, That gives to all the self-same bent Where life is wise and innocent.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1836.
... love-sick ... 1807.]
[Variant 2:
1827.
... or ... 1807.]
* * * * *
"IT IS NO SPIRIT WHO FROM HEAVEN HATH FLOWN"
Composed 1803.—Published 1807
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. I remember the instant my sister S. H., called me to the window of our Cottage, saying, "Look how beautiful is yon star! It has the sky all to itself." I composed the verses immediately.—I.F.]
This was No. XIII. of "Moods of my own Mind," in the edition of 1807. It was afterwards included among the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown, And is descending on his embassy; Nor Traveller gone from earth the heavens to espy! 'Tis Hesperus—there he stands with glittering crown, First admonition that the sun is down! 5 For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by; A few are near him still—and now the sky, He hath it to himself—'tis all his own. O most ambitious Star! an inquest wrought Within me when I recognised thy light; 10 A moment I was startled at the sight: And, while I gazed, there came to me a thought That I might step beyond my natural race As thou seem'st now to do; might one day trace [1] Some ground not mine; and, strong her strength above, 15 My Soul, an Apparition in the place, Tread there with steps that no one shall reprove! [A]
* * * * *
VARIANT ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: 1807.
O most ambitious Star! an inquest wrought Within me when I recognised thy light; A moment I was startled at the sight: And, while I gazed, there came to me a thought That even I beyond my natural race Might step as thou dost now: might one day trace 1815.
O most ambitious Star! thy Presence brought A startling recollection to my mind Of the distinguished few among mankind, Who dare to step beyond their natural race, As thou seem'st now to do:—nor was a thought Denied—that even I might one day trace 1820.
The text of 1836 returns to that of 1807.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Professor Dowden directs attention to the relation between these lines and the poem beginning "If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven."—Ed.]
* * * * *
MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND
1803
These poems were first collected, under the above title, in the edition of 1827. In 1807, nine of them—viz. 'Rob Roy's Grave', 'The Solitary Reaper', 'Stepping Westward', 'Glen Almain, or, The Narrow Glen', 'The Matron of Jedborough and her Husband', 'To a Highland Girl', 'Sonnet', 'To the Sons of Burns after visiting the Grave of their Father', 'Yarrow Unvisited',—were printed under the title, "Poems written during a Tour in Scotland." This group begins the second volume of the edition of that year. But in 1815 and 1820—when Wordsworth began to arrange his poems in groups—they were distributed with the rest of the series in the several artificial sections. Although some were composed after the Tour was finished—and the order in which Wordsworth placed them is not the order of the Scotch Tour itself—it is advisable to keep to his own method of arrangement in dealing with this particular group, for the same reason that we retain it in such a series as the Duddon Sonnets.—Ed.
* * * * *
DEPARTURE FROM THE VALE OF GRASMERE. AUGUST, 1803 [A]
Composed 1811.—Published 1827
[Mr. Coleridge, my sister, and myself started together from Town-end to make a tour in Scotland. Poor Coleridge was at that time in bad spirits, and somewhat too much in love with his own dejection; and he departed from us, as is recorded in my Sister's Journal, soon after we left Loch Lomond. The verses that stand foremost among these Memorials were not actually written for the occasion, but transplanted from my 'Epistle to Sir George Beaumont'.—I. F.]
The gentlest Shade that walked Elysian plains Might sometimes covet dissoluble chains; Even for the tenants of the zone that lies Beyond the stars, celestial Paradise, Methinks 'twould heighten joy, to overleap 5 At will the crystal battlements, and peep Into some other region, though less fair, To see how things are made and managed there. Change for the worse might please, incursion bold Into the tracts of darkness and of cold; 10 O'er Limbo lake with aery flight to steer, And on the verge of Chaos hang in fear. Such animation often do I find, Power in my breast, wings growing in my mind, Then, when some rock or hill is overpast, 15 Perchance without one look behind me cast, Some barrier with which Nature, from the birth Of things, has fenced this fairest spot on earth. O pleasant transit, Grasmere! to resign Such happy fields, abodes so calm as thine; 20 Not like an outcast with himself at strife; The slave of business, time, or care for life, But moved by choice; or, if constrained in part, Yet still with Nature's freedom at the heart;— To cull contentment upon wildest shores, 25 And luxuries extract from bleakest moors; With prompt embrace all beauty to enfold, And having rights in all that we behold. —Then why these lingering steps?—A bright adieu, For a brief absence, proves that love is true; 30 Ne'er can the way be irksome or forlorn That winds into itself for sweet return.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: This first poem referring to the Scottish Tour of 1803, was not actually written till 1811. It originally formed the opening paragraph of the 'Epistle to Sir George Beaumont'. Wordsworth himself dated it 1804. It is every way desirable that it should introduce the series of poems referring to the Tour of 1803.—Ed.]
The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland':
"William and I parted from Mary on Sunday afternoon, August 14th, 1803; and William, Coleridge, and I left Keswick on Monday morning, the 15th."
Ed.
* * * * *
AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS, 1803. SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH
Composed 1803. [A]—Published 1842
[For illustration, see my Sister's Journal. It may be proper to add that the second of these pieces, though felt at the time, was not composed till many years after.—I. F.]
I shiver, Spirit fierce and bold, At thought of what I now behold: As vapours breathed from dungeons cold Strike pleasure dead, So sadness comes from out [1] the mould 5 Where Burns is laid.
And have I then thy bones so near, And thou forbidden to appear? As if it were thyself that's here I shrink with pain; 10 And both my wishes and my fear Alike are vain. [2] Off weight—nor press on weight!—away Dark thoughts!—they came, but not to stay; With chastened feelings would I pay 15 The tribute due To him, and aught that hides his clay From mortal view.
Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth He sang, his genius "glinted" forth, [B] 20 Rose like a star that touching earth, For so it seems, Doth glorify its humble birth With matchless beams.
The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow, 25 The struggling heart, where be they now?— Full soon the Aspirant of the plough, The prompt, the brave, Slept, with the obscurest, in the low And silent grave. 30
I mourned with thousands, but as one More deeply grieved, for He was gone Whose light I hailed when first it shone, And showed my youth [3] How Verse may build a princely throne 35 On humble truth.
Alas! where'er the current tends, Regret pursues and with it blends,— Huge Criffel's hoary top ascends By Skiddaw seen,—40 Neighbours we were, and loving friends We might have been;
True friends though diversely inclined; But heart with heart and mind with mind, Where the main fibres are entwined, 45 Through Nature's skill, May even by contraries be joined More closely still.
The tear will start, and let it flow; Thou "poor Inhabitant below," [C] 50 At this dread moment—even so— Might we together Have sate and talked where gowans blow, Or on wild heather.
What treasures would have then been placed 55 Within my reach; of knowledge graced By fancy what a rich repast! But why go on?— Oh! spare to sweep, thou mournful blast, His grave grass-grown. 60
There, too, a Son, his joy and pride, (Not three weeks past the Stripling died,) Lies gathered to his Father's side, Soul-moving sight! Yet one to which is not denied 65 Some sad delight.
For he is safe, a quiet bed Hath early found among the dead, Harboured where none can be misled, Wronged, or distrest; 70 And surely here it may be said That such are blest.
And oh for Thee, by pitying grace Checked oft-times in a devious race, May He who halloweth the place 75 Where Man is laid Receive thy Spirit in the embrace For which it prayed!
Sighing I turned away; but ere Night fell I heard, or seemed to hear, 80 Music that sorrow comes not near, A ritual hymn, Chanted in love that casts out fear By Seraphim. [D]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1842.
... out of ... MS.]
[Variant 2:
But wherefore tremble? 'tis no place Of pain and sorrow, but of grace, Of shelter, and of silent peace, And "friendly aid"; Grasped is he now in that embrace For which he prayed. [a] MS.]
[Variant 3:
1845.
Well might I mourn that He was gone Whose light I hailed when first it shone, When, breaking forth as nature's own, It showed my youth 1842.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: It is dated thus by Wordsworth himself on three occasions, and the year of its composition is also indicated in the title of the poem.—Ed.]
[Footnote B: Compare Burns's poem 'To a Mountain Daisy', l. 15.—Ed.]
[Footnote C: See Burns's 'A Bard's Epitaph', l. 19.—Ed.]
[Footnote D: Compare 'The Tomb of Burns', by William Watson, 1895.—Ed.]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: See in his poem the 'Ode to Ruin'.—Ed.]
The following is an extract from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal of the Tour in Scotland:
"Thursday, August 18th.—Went to the churchyard where Burns is buried. A bookseller accompanied us. He showed us the outside of Burns's house, where he had lived the last three years of his life, and where he died. It has a mean appearance, and is in a bye situation, whitewashed.... Went on to visit his grave. He lies at a corner of the churchyard, and his second son, Francis Wallace, beside him. There is no stone to mark the spot; but a hundred guineas have been collected, to be expended on some sort of monument.
'There,' said the bookseller, pointing to a pompous monument, 'there lies Mr. Such-a-one. I have forgotten his name. A remarkably clever man; he was an attorney, and hardly ever lost a cause he undertook. Burns made many a lampoon upon him, and there they rest, as you see.'
We looked at the grave with melancholy and painful reflections, repeating to each other his own verses.
'Is there a man whose judgment clear, Can others teach the way to steer, Yet runs himself life's mad career, Wild as the wave? Here let him pause, and through a tear Survey this grave.
The poor Inhabitant below Was quick to learn, and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame; But thoughtless follies laid him low And stained his name.'
"I cannot take leave of the country which we passed through to-day without mentioning that we saw the Cumberland Mountains, within half-a-mile of Ellisland, Burns's house, the last view we had of them. Drayton has prettily described the connection which this neighbourhood has with ours when he makes Skiddaw say:
'Seurfell [E] from the sky, That Anadale [F] doth crown, with a most amorous eye, Salutes me every day, or at my pride looks grim, Oft threatening me with clouds, as I oft threatening him!'
"These lines recurred to William's memory, and we talked of Burns, and of the prospect he must have had, perhaps from his own door, of Skiddaw and his companions, including ourselves in the fancy, that we might have been personally known to each other, and he have looked upon those objects with more pleasure for our sakes."
Ed.
[Footnote E: Criffel.—Ed.]
[Footnote F: Annandale.—Ed.]
* * * * *
THOUGHTS SUGGESTED THE DAY FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS OF NITH, NEAR THE POET'S RESIDENCE
Composed 1803. [A]—Published 1842
Too frail to keep the lofty vow That must have followed when his brow Was wreathed—"The Vision" [B] tells us how— With holly spray, He faultered, drifted to and fro, 5 And passed away.
Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng Our minds when, lingering all too long, Over the grave of Burns we hung In social grief—10 Indulged as if it were a wrong To seek relief.
But, leaving each unquiet theme Where gentlest judgments may misdeem, And prompt to welcome every gleam 15 Of good and fair, Let us beside this limpid Stream Breathe hopeful air.
Enough of sorrow, wreck, and blight; Think rather of those moments bright 20 When to the consciousness of right His course was true, When Wisdom prospered in his sight And virtue grew.
Yes, freely let our hearts expand, 25 Freely as in youth's season bland, When side by side, his Book in hand, We wont to stray, Our pleasure varying at command Of each sweet Lay. 30
How oft inspired must he have trod These pathways, yon far-stretching road! There lurks his home; in that Abode, With mirth elate, Or in his nobly-pensive mood, 35 The Rustic sate.
Proud thoughts that Image overawes, Before it humbly let us pause, And ask of Nature, from what cause And by what rules 40 She trained her Burns to win applause That shames the Schools.
Through busiest street and loneliest glen Are felt the flashes of his pen; He rules mid winter snows, and when 45 Bees fill their hives; Deep in the general heart of men His power survives.
What need of fields in some far clime Where Heroes, Sages, Bards sublime, 50 And all that fetched the flowing rhyme From genuine springs, Shall dwell together till old Time Folds up his wings?
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven 55 This Minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven, Effaced for ever. 60
But why to Him confine the prayer, When kindred thoughts and yearnings bear On the frail heart the purest share With all that live?— The best of what we do and are, 65 Just God, forgive!
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Though "suggested" on "the day following," these stanzas were not written then; but "many years after." They must, however, find a place in the "Memorials" of this 1803 Tour in Scotland.—Ed.]
[Footnote B: Burns's poem, thus named.—Ed.]
See the note to the previous poem. The line
'These pathways, yon far-stretching road!'
refers probably to the road to Brownhill, past Ellisland farmhouse where Burns lived. "The day following" would be Aug. 19th, 1803. The extract which follows from the Journal is a further illustration of the poem. August 8th.
"... Travelled through the vale of Nith, here little like a vale, it is so broad, with irregular hills rising up on each side, in outline resembling the old-fashioned valances of a bed. There is a great deal of arable land; the corn ripe; trees here and there—plantations, clumps, coppices, a newness in everything. So much of the gorse and broom rooted out that you wonder why it is not all gone, and yet there seems to be almost as much gorse and broom as corn; and they grow one among another you know not how. Crossed the Nith; the vale becomes narrow, and very pleasant; cornfields, green hills, clay cottages; the river's bed rocky, with woody banks. Left the Nith about a mile and a half, and reached Brownhill, a lonely inn, where we slept. The view from the windows was pleasing, though some travellers might have been disposed to quarrel with it for its general nakedness; yet there was abundance of corn. It is an open country—open, yet all over hills. At a little distance were many cottages among trees, that looked very pretty. Brownhill is about seven or eight miles from Ellisland. I fancied to myself, while I was sitting in the parlour, that Burns might have caroused there, for most likely his rounds extended so far, and this thought gave a melancholy interest to the smoky walls...."
On Dec. 23, 1839, Wordsworth wrote to Professor Henry Reed, Philadelphia:
"The other day I chanced to be looking over a MS. poem belonging to the year 1803, though not actually composed till many years afterwards. It was suggested by visiting the neighbourhood of Dumfries, in which Burns had resided, and where he died: it concluded thus:
'Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven, etc.'
I instantly added, the other day,
'But why to Him confine the prayer, etc.'
The more I reflect upon this, the more I feel justified in attaching comparatively small importance to any literary monument that I may be enabled to leave behind. It is well however, I am convinced, that men think otherwise in the earlier part of their lives...."
It may be mentioned that in his note to the "Poems, chiefly of Early and Late Years," (1842), Wordsworth does not quote from the text of his sister's Journal,—which was first published in 1875,—but from some other copy of it.—Ed.
* * * * *
TO THE SONS OF BURNS, AFTER VISITING THE GRAVE OF THEIR FATHER [A]
Composed before 1807 [B]—Published 1807
The Poet's grave is in a corner of the church-yard. We looked at it with melancholy and painful reflections, repeating to each other his own verses:
'Is there a man whose judgment clear, etc.'
'Extract from the Journal of my Fellow-Traveller.'—W. W. 1827. [C]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection" in the 1815 and 1820 editions.—Ed.
'Mid crowded obelisks and urns I sought the untimely grave of Burns; Sons of the Bard, my heart still mourns With sorrow true; And more would grieve, but that it turns 5 Trembling to you!
Through twilight shades of good and ill Ye now are panting up life's hill, [1] And more than common strength and skill Must ye display; 10 If ye would give the better will Its lawful sway.
Hath Nature strung your nerves to bear Intemperance with less harm, beware! But if the Poet's wit ye share, 15 Like him can speed The social hour—of tenfold care [2] There will be need;
For honest men delight will take To spare your failings for his sake, 20 Will flatter you,—and fool and rake [3] Your steps pursue; And of your Father's name will make A snare for you.
Far from their noisy haunts retire, 25 And add your voices to the quire That sanctify the cottage fire With service meet; There seek the genius of your Sire, His spirit greet; 30
Or where,'mid "lonely heights and hows," [D] He paid to Nature tuneful vows; Or wiped his honourable brows Bedewed with toil, While reapers strove, or busy ploughs 35 Upturned the soil;
His judgment with benignant ray Shall guide, his fancy cheer, your way; But ne'er to a seductive lay Let faith be given; 40 Nor deem that "light which leads astray, Is light from Heaven." [E]
Let no mean hope your souls enslave; Be independent, generous, brave; Your Father such example gave, 45 And such revere; But be admonished by his grave, And think, and fear! [F]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1827.
Ye now are panting up life's hill! 'Tis twilight time of good and ill, 1807.]
[Variant 2:
1840.
Strong bodied if ye be to bear Intemperance with less harm, beware! But if your Father's wit ye share, Then, then indeed, Ye Sons of Burns! for watchful care 1807.
... for tenfold care 1827.
The text of 1827 is otherwise identical with that of 1840.]
[Variant 3:
1840.
For honest men delight will take To shew you favor for his sake, Will flatter you; and Fool and Rake 1807.
For their beloved Poet's sake, Even honest men delight will take To flatter you; ... 1820.
Even honest Men delight will take To spare your failings for his sake, Will flatter you,—... 1827.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In the edition of 1807, this poem has the title 'Address to the Sons of Burns after visiting their Father's Grave (August 14th, 1803)'. Slight changes were made in the title afterwards.—Ed.]
[Footnote B: Dorothy Wordsworth wrote, in her 'Recollections' of this tour, under date August 18th, 1803,
"William wrote long afterwards the following Address to the sons of the ill-fated poet."
Ed.]
[Footnote C: This explanatory note appears in every edition of the Poems from 1827 to 1850. It is taken (but not literally) from the 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland' as published in 1875.—Ed.]
[Footnote D: From Burns's 'Epistle to James Smith', l. 53.—Ed.]
[Footnote E: From Burns's poem, 'The Vision', Duan Second.—Ed.]
[Footnote F: In the edition of 1807, the poem began with what is now the second stanza, and consisted of four stanzas only, viz. Nos. ii., iii., iv., and viii. Stanzas i., v., vi., and vii. were added in 1827. Stanza iii. was omitted in 1820, but restored in 1827.—Ed.]
In Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections' of this Tour we find, under date August 18, 1803:
"The grave of Burns's Son, which we had just seen by the side of his Father, and some stories heard at Dumfries respecting the dangers his surviving children were exposed to, filled us with melancholy concern, which had a kind of connection with ourselves."
"The body of Burns was not allowed to remain long in this place. To suit the plan of a rather showy mausoleum his remains were removed into a more commodious spot of the same kirkyard on the 5th July 1815."—(Allan Cunningham.)
'Ellen Irwin; or, the Braes of Kirtle', comes next in this series of "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803." It has already been printed, however, (p. 124), in its proper chronological place, among the poems belonging to the year 1800.—Ed.
* * * * *
TO A HIGHLAND GIRL
(AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND)
Composed 1803.—Published 1807
Classed in 1815 and 1820 as one of the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
[This delightful creature and her demeanour are particularly described in my Sister's Journal. The sort of prophecy with which the verses conclude has, through God's goodness, been realized; and now, approaching the close of my 73rd year, I have a most vivid remembrance of her and the beautiful objects with which she was surrounded. She is alluded to in the poem of 'The Three Cottage Girls' among my Continental Memorials. In illustration of this class of poems I have scarcely anything to say beyond what is anticipated in my Sister's faithful and admirable Journal.—I. F.]
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower! Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head: And these grey rocks; that [1] household lawn; 5 Those trees, [A] a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water that doth make A murmur near the silent lake; This little bay; a quiet road That holds in shelter thy Abode—10 In truth together do ye seem [2] Like something fashioned in a dream; Such Forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep! But, O fair Creature! in the light 15 Of common day, so heavenly bright, [3] I bless Thee, Vision [4] as thou art, I bless thee with a human heart; God shield thee to thy latest years! Thee, neither know I, [5] nor thy peers; 20 And yet my eyes are filled with tears.
With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away: For never saw I mien, or face, In which more plainly I could trace 25 Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here scattered, like a random seed, Remote from men, Thou dost not need The embarrassed look of shy distress, 30 And maidenly shamefacedness: Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a Mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread! Soft smiles, [6] by human kindness bred! 35 And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach 40 Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life! So have I, not unmoved in mind, Seen birds of tempest-loving kind—45 Thus beating up against the wind.
What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful? O happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; 50 Adopt your homely ways and dress, A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess! But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: Thou art to me but as a wave 55 Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood. What joy to hear thee, and to see! Thy elder Brother I would be, 60 Thy Father—anything to thee! [B]
Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had; and going hence I bear away my recompence. 65 In spots like these it is we prize Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes: Then, why should I be loth to stir? I feel this place was made for her; To give new pleasure like the past, 70 Continued long as life shall last. Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart, Sweet Highland Girl! from thee to part; For I, methinks, till I grow old, As fair before me shall behold, 75 As I do now, the cabin small, The lake, the bay, the waterfall; And Thee, the Spirit of them all!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
... this ... 1807.]
[Variant 2:
1827.
In truth together ye do seem 1807.
In truth, unfolding thus, ye seem 1837.
The text of 1845 returns to that of 1827.]
[Variant 3: The two preceding lines were added in 1845.]
[Variant 4:
1845.
Yet, dream and vision ... 1807.
... or vision ... 1837.]
[Variant 5:
1845.
I neither know thee ... 1807.]
[Variant 6:
1827.
Sweet looks, ... 1807.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A:
"The distribution of 'these,' 'that,' and 'those' in these two lines, was attained in 1845, after various changes. "
(Edward Dowden.)]
[Footnote B: Compare Virgil's 'Eclogues', x. 35:
'Atque utinam ex vobis unus, etc.'
Ed.]
In her 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', 1803, Dorothy Wordsworth writes:
"Sunday, August 28th.—... After long waiting, the girls, who had been on the look-out, informed us that the boat was coming. I went to the waterside, and saw a cluster of people on the opposite shore; but, being yet at a distance, they looked more like soldiers surrounding a carriage than a group of men and women; red and green were the distinguishable colours. We hastened to get ourselves ready as soon as we saw the party approach, but had longer to wait than we expected, the lake being wider than it appears to be. As they drew near we could distinguish men in tartan plaids, women in scarlet cloaks, and green umbrellas by the half-dozen. The landing was as pretty a sight as ever I saw. The bay, which had been so quiet two days before, was all in motion with small waves, while the swollen waterfall roared in our ears. The boat came steadily up, being pressed almost to the water's edge by the weight of its cargo; perhaps twenty people landed, one after another. It did not rain much, but the women held up their umbrellas; they were dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, and with their scarlet cardinals, the tartan plaids of the men, and Scotch bonnets, made a gay appearance. There was a joyous bustle surrounding the boat, which even imparted something of the same character to the waterfall in its tumult, and the restless grey waves; the young men laughed and shouted, the lasses laughed, and the elder folks seemed to be in a bustle to be away. I remember well with what haste the mistress of the house where we were ran up to seek after her child, and seeing us, how anxiously and kindly she inquired how we had fared, if we had had a good fire, had been well waited upon, etc. All this in three minutes—for the boatman had another party to bring from the other side, and hurried us off.
"The hospitality we had met with at the two cottages and Mr. Macfarlane's gave us very favourable impressions on this our first entrance into the Highlands, and at this day the innocent merriment of the girls, with their kindness to us, and the beautiful face and figure of the elder, come to my mind whenever I think of the ferry-house and waterfall of Loch Lomond, and I never think of the two girls but the whole image of that romantic spot is before me, a living image as it will be to my dying day. The following poem was written by William not long after our return from Scotland."
Compare the poem called 'The Three Cottage Girls', in the "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent, 1820," published in 1822.—Ed.
* * * * *
GLEN-ALMAIN; OR, THE NARROW GLEN
Composed (possibly) in 1803.—Published 1807
Classed in 1815 and 1820 with the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
In this still place, remote from men, Sleeps Ossian, in the NARROW GLEN; In this still place, where murmurs on But one meek streamlet, only one: He sang of battles, and the breath 5 Of stormy war, and violent death; And should, methinks, when all was past, Have rightfully been laid at last Where rocks were rudely heaped, and rent As by a spirit turbulent; 10 Where sights were rough, and sounds were wild, And everything unreconciled; In some complaining, dim retreat, For fear and melancholy meet; But this is calm; there cannot be 15 A more entire tranquillity.
Does then the Bard sleep here indeed? Or is it but a groundless creed? What matters it?—I blame them not Whose Fancy in this lonely Spot 20 Was moved; and in such [1] way expressed Their notion of its perfect rest. A convent, even a hermit's cell, Would break the silence of this Dell: [A] It is not quiet, is not ease; 25 But something deeper far than these: The separation that is here Is of the grave; and of austere Yet [2] happy feelings of the dead: And, therefore, was it rightly said 30 That Ossian, last of all his race! Lies buried in this lonely place.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1827.
... in this ... 1807.]
[Variant 2:
1827.
And ... 1807.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Compare the poem 'To the Lady Fleming', stanza iii. ll. 28-9.—Ed.]
The glen is Glenalmond, in Perthshire, between Crieff and Amulree, known locally as "the Sma' Glen." I am not aware that it was ever called "Glen Almain," till Wordsworth gave it that singularly un-Scottish name. [B] It must have been a warm August day, after a tract of dry weather, when he went through it, or the Almond would scarcely have been called a "small streamlet." In many seasons of the year the distinctive features of the Glen would be more appropriately indicated by the words, which the poet uses by way of contrast with his own experience of it, viz. a place
'Where sights are rough, and sounds are wild, And everything unreconciled.'
But his characterization of the place—a glen, the charm of which is little known—in the stillness of an autumn afternoon, is as true to nature as any of his interpretations of the spirit of the hills and vales of Westmoreland. As yet there is no farm-house, scarcely even a sheiling, to "break the silence of this Dell."
The following is Dorothy Wordsworth's account of their walk through it on Friday, September 9th, 1803:
"Entered the glen at a small hamlet at some distance from the head, and, turning aside a few steps, ascended a hillock which commanded a view to the top of it—a very sweet scene, a green valley, not very narrow, with a few scattered trees and huts, almost invisible in a misty green of afternoon light. At this hamlet we crossed a bridge, and the road led us down the glen, which had become exceedingly narrow, and so continued to the end: the hills on both sides heathy and rocky, very steep, but continuous; the rock not single or overhanging, not scooped into caverns, or sounding with torrents; there are no trees, no houses, no traces of cultivation, not one outstanding object. It is truly a solitude, the road even making it appear still more so; the bottom of the valley is mostly smooth and level, the brook not noisy: everything is simple and undisturbed, and while we passed through it the whole place was shady, cool, clear, and solemn. At the end of the long valley we ascended a hill to a great height, and reached the top, when the sun, on the point of setting, shed a soft yellow light upon every eminence. The prospect was very extensive; over hollows and plains, no towns, and few houses visible—a prospect, extensive as it was, in harmony with the secluded dell, and fixing its own peculiar character of removedness from the world, and the secure possession of the quiet of nature more deeply in our minds. The following poem was written by William on hearing of a tradition relating to it, which we did not know when we were there."
Ed.
[Footnote B: In the Statistical Account of Scotland, however—drawn up by the parish ministers of the county, and edited by Sir John Sinclair—both the river and the glen are spelt Almon, by the Rev. Mr. Erskine, who wrote the account of Monzie Parish in Perthshire. This was in 1795. A recent authority states:
"'Glenamon,' in Ayrshire, and 'Glenalmond,' in Perthshire, are both from the corrupted spelling of the word 'Avon,' which derives from its being very nearly the pronunciation of the Gaelic word for 'a river.' These names are from 'Gleann-abhuinn,' that is,'the valley of the river.'"
(See the 'Gaelic Topography of Scotland', by James A. Robertson, Edinburgh, 1859.)—Ed.]
* * * * *
STEPPING WESTWARD
Composed between 1803 and 1805.—Published 1807
While my Fellow-traveller and I were walking by the side of Loch Ketterine, one fine evening after sun-set, in our road to a Hut where in the course of our Tour we had been hospitably entertained some weeks before, we met, in one of the loneliest parts of that solitary region, two well dressed Women, one of whom said to us, by way of greeting, "What, you are stepping westward?"—W. W. 1807.
Classed in 1815 and 1820 among the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
"What, you are stepping westward?"—" Yea." 'Twould be a wildish [A] destiny, If we, who thus together roam In a strange Land, and far from home, Were in this place the guests of Chance: 5 Yet who would stop, or fear to advance, Though home or shelter he had none, With such a sky to lead him on?
The dewy ground was dark and cold; Behind, all gloomy to behold; 10 And stepping westward seemed to be A kind of heavenly destiny: I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound Of something without place or bound; And seemed to give me spiritual right 15 To travel through that region bright.
The voice was soft, and she who spake Was walking by her native lake: The salutation had to me [1] The very sound of courtesy: 20 Its power was felt; and while my eye Was fixed upon the glowing Sky, The echo of the voice enwrought A human sweetness with the thought Of travelling through the world that lay 25 Before me in my endless way.
* * * * *
VARIANT ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1807.
... seemed to me
In MS. letter to Sir G. Beaumont. N. D.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Italics were first used in 1855.—Ed.]
The following is from the 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland':
"Sunday, Sept. 11th.—We have never had a more delightful walk than this evening. Ben Lomond and the three pointed-topped mountains of Loch Lomond, which we had seen from the garrison, were very majestic under the clear sky, the lake perfectly calm, the air sweet and mild. I felt that it was much more interesting to visit a place where we have been before than it can possibly be the first time, except under peculiar circumstances. The sun had been set for some time, when, being within a quarter of a mile of the ferry man's hut, our path having led us close to the shore of the calm lake, we met two neatly-dressed women, without hats, who had probably been taking their Sunday evening's walk. One of them said to us in a friendly, soft tone of voice, 'What, you are stepping westward?' I cannot describe how affecting this simple expression was in that remote place, with the western sky in front, yet glowing with the departed sun. William wrote the following poem long after, in remembrance of his feelings and mine."
Ed.
* * * * *
THE SOLITARY REAPER
Composed between 1803 and 1805.—Published 1807
One of the "Poems of the Imagination" in 1815 and 1820.—Ed.
Behold her, single [1] in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 5 And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands [2] 10 Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard [3] In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas [A] 15 Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?— Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: 20 Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang [4] 25 As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending;— I listened, motionless and still; [5] And, as [6] I mounted up the hill, 30 The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1807.
... singing ...
MS.]
[Variant 2:
1827.
So sweetly to reposing bands 1807.]
[Variant 3:
1837.
No sweeter voice was ever heard 1807.
... sound ... MS.
Such thrilling voice was never heard 1827.]
[Variant 4:
1815.
... sung 1807.]
[Variant 5:
1820.
I listen'd till I had my fill: 1807.]
[Variant 6:
1807.
And when ... 1827.
The text of 1837 returns to that of 1807.]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Compare 'The Ancient Mariner'(part ii. stanza 6):
'And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea.'
Ed.]
The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections' of the Tour: 13th Sept. 1803.
"As we descended, the scene became more fertile, our way being pleasantly varied—through coppices or open fields, and passing farm-houses, though always with an intermixture of cultivated ground. It was harvest-time, and the fields were quietly—might I be allowed to say pensively?—enlivened by small companies of reapers. It is not uncommon in the more lonely parts of the Highlands to see a single person so employed. The following poem was suggested to William by a beautiful sentence in Thomas Wilkinson's 'Tour in Scotland.'"
In a note appended to the editions 1807 to 1820, Wordsworth wrote:
"This Poem was suggested by a beautiful sentence in a MS. 'Tour in Scotland,' written by a Friend, the last line being taken from it verbatim."
The first part of Wilkinson's 'Tours to the British Mountains', which was published in 1824, narrates his journey in Scotland (it took place in 1787); and the following sentence occurs in the record of his travels near Loch Lomond (p. 12),
"Passed a female who was reaping alone: she sung in Erse, as she bended over her sickle; the sweetest human voice I ever heard: her strains were tenderly melancholy, and felt delicious, long after they were heard no more."
There can be no doubt that this is the sentence referred to both by Dorothy and William Wordsworth. Thomas Wilkinson was the friend, in whose memory Wordsworth wrote the poem 'To the Spade of a Friend, composed while we were labouring together in his pleasure-ground'. They were comparatively near neighbours, as Wilkinson lived near Yanwath on the Emont; and he had given his MS. to the Wordsworth family to read. I have received some additional information about this MS., and Wordsworth's knowledge of it, from Mr. Wilson Robinson, who writes,
"From all the evidence, I conclude that Wilkinson's 'Tour to the Highlands' was shown in manuscript to his friends soon after his return;—that he was not only willing to show it, but even to allow it to be copied, though reluctant to publish it;—that there was sufficient intimacy between him and the Wordsworths to account for his showing or lending the manuscript to them, especially as they had travelled over much of the same ground, and would therefore be more interested in it; and that in fact it was never published till 1824."
When Wordsworth was living at Coleorton during the late autumn of 1806 he wrote to Wilkinson:
"... What shall I say in apology for your Journal, which is now locked up with my manuscripts at Grasmere. As I could not go over to your part of the country myself, my intention was to have taken it with me to Kendal ... to be carefully transmitted to you; unluckily, most unluckily, in the hurry of departure, I forgot it, together with two of my own manuscripts which were along with it; and I am afraid you will be standing in great need of it.... If you do not want it, it is in a place where it can take no injury, and I may have the pleasure of delivering it to you myself in the spring...."
Ed.
* * * * *
ADDRESS TO KILCHURN CASTLE
UPON LOCH AWE
Begun 1803.—Published 1827
"From the top of the hill a most impressive scene opened upon our view,—a ruined Castle on an Island (for an Island the flood had made it) [A] at some distance from the shore, backed by a Cove of the Mountain Cruachan, down which came a foaming stream. The Castle occupied every foot of the Island that was visible to us, appearing to rise out of the Water,—mists rested upon the mountain side, with spots of sunshine; there was a mild desolation in the low-grounds, a solemn grandeur in the mountains, and the Castle was wild, yet stately—not dismantled of Turrets—nor the walls broken down, though obviously a ruin."
'Extract from the Journal of my Companion.'—W. W. 1827.
[The first three lines were thrown off at the moment I first caught sight of the Ruin, from a small eminence by the wayside; the rest was added many years after.—I.F.]
Child of loud-throated War! the mountain Stream Roars in thy hearing; but thy hour of rest Is come, and thou art silent in thy age; Save when the wind sweeps by and sounds are caught Ambiguous, neither wholly thine nor theirs. 5 Oh! there is life that breathes not; Powers there are That touch each other to the quick in modes Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive, No soul to dream of. What art Thou, from care Cast off—abandoned by thy rugged Sire, 10 Nor by soft Peace adopted; though, in place And in dimension, such that thou might'st seem But a mere footstool to yon sovereign Lord, Huge Cruachan, (a thing that meaner hills Might crush, nor know that it had suffered harm;) 15 Yet he, not loth, in favour of thy claims To reverence, suspends his own; submitting All that the God of Nature hath conferred, All that he holds [1] in common with the stars, To the memorial majesty of Time 20 Impersonated in thy calm decay!
Take, then, thy seat, Vicegerent unreproved! Now, while a farewell gleam of evening light Is fondly lingering on thy shattered front, Do thou, in turn, be paramount; and rule 25 Over the pomp and beauty of a scene Whose mountains, torrents, lake, and woods, unite To pay thee homage; and with these are joined, In willing admiration and respect, Two Hearts, which in thy presence might be called 30 Youthful as Spring.—Shade of departed Power, Skeleton of unfleshed humanity, The chronicle were welcome that should call Into the compass of distinct regard The toils and struggles of thy infant years! [2] 35 Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice; Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye, Frozen by distance; so, majestic Pile, To the perception of this Age, appear Thy fierce beginnings, softened and subdued 40 And quieted in character—the strife, The pride, the fury uncontrollable, Lost on the aerial heights of the Crusades!" [B]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
... has ... 1827.]
[Variant 2:
1845.
... of thy infancy! 1827.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The clause within brackets was added in 1837.—Ed.]
[Footnote B: The Tradition is, that the Castle was built by a Lady during the absence of her Lord in Palestine.—W. W. 1827.]
From the following passage in Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections' of their Tour, it will be seen that the poet altered the text considerably in making his quotation in 1827: August 31, 1803.
"When we had ascended half-way up the hill, directed by the man, I took a nearer foot-path, and at the top came in view of a most impressive scene, a ruined castle on an island almost in the middle of the last compartment of the lake, backed by a mountain cove, down which came a roaring stream. The castle occupied every foot of the island that was visible to us, appearing to rise out of the water; mists rested upon the mountain side, with spots of sunshine between; there was a mild desolation in the low grounds, a solemn grandeur in the mountains, and the castle was wild, yet stately, not dismantled of its turrets, nor the walls broken down, though completely in ruin. After having stood some minutes I joined William on the highroad, and both wishing to stay longer near this place, we requested the man to drive his little boy on to Dalmally, about two miles further, and leave the car at the inn. He told us the ruin was called Kilchurn Castle, that it belonged to Lord Breadalbane, and had been built by one of the ladies of that family for her defence, during her lord's absence at the Crusades; for which purpose she levied a tax of seven years' rent upon her tenants; he said that from that side of the lake it did not appear, in very dry weather, to stand upon an island, but that it was possible to go over to it without being wet-shod. We were very lucky in seeing it after a great flood; for its enchanting effect was chiefly owing to its situation in the lake, a decayed palace rising out of the plain of waters! I have called it a palace, for such feeling it gave me, though having been built as a place of defence, a castle or fortress. We turned again and reascended the hill, and sate a long time in the middle of it looking on the castle, and the huge mountain cove opposite, and William, addressing himself to the ruin, poured out these verses."
Compare Wordsworth's description of this ruin in his 'Guide through the District of the Lakes'.—Ed.
* * * * *
ROB ROY'S GRAVE
Composed between 1803 and 1805.—Published 1807
The History of Rob Roy is sufficiently known; his Grave is near the head of Loch Ketterine, in one of those small Pin-fold-like Burial-grounds, of neglected and desolate appearance, which the Traveller meets with in the Highlands of Scotland.—W. W. 1807.
[I have since been told that I was misinformed as to the burial-place of Rob Roy. If so, I may plead in excuse that I wrote on apparently good authority, namely, that of a well educated Lady who lived at the head of the Lake, within a mile or less of the point indicated as containing the remains of One so famous in the neighbourhood.—I. F.] |
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