THE RIVER DUDDON
A SERIES OF SONNETS
Composed 1820.—Published 1820
[It is with the little river Duddon as it is with most other rivers, Ganges and Nile not excepted,—many springs might claim the honour of being its head. In my own fancy I have fixed its rise near the noted Shire-stones placed at the meeting-point of the counties, Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire. They stand by the way side on the top of the Wrynose Pass, and it used to be reckoned a proud thing to say that, by touching them at the same time with feet and hands, one had been in the three counties at once. At what point of its course the stream takes the name of Duddon I do not know. I first became acquainted with the Duddon, as I have good reason to remember, in early boyhood. Upon the banks of the Derwent I had learnt to be very fond of angling. Fish abound in that large river; not so in the small streams in the neighbourhood of Hawkshead; and I fell into the common delusion that the farther from home the better sport would be had. Accordingly, one day I attached myself to a person living in the neighbourhood of Hawkshead, who was going to try his fortune as an angler near the source of the Duddon. We fished a great part of the day with very sorry success, the rain pouring torrents, and long before we got home I was worn out with fatigue; and, if the good man had not carried me on his back, I must have lain down under the best shelter I could find. Little did I think then it would be my lot to celebrate, in a strain of love and admiration, the stream which for many years I never thought of without recollections of disappointment and distress.
During my college vacation, and two or three years afterwards, before taking my Bachelor's degree, I was several times resident in the house of a near relative who lived in the small town of Broughton. I passed many delightful hours upon the banks of this river, which becomes an estuary about a mile from that place. The remembrances of that period are the subject of the 21st sonnet. The subject of the 27th is in fact taken from a tradition belonging to Rydal Hall, which once stood, as is believed, upon a rocky and woody hill on the right hand as you go from Rydal to Ambleside, and was deserted from the superstitious fear here described, and the present site fortunately chosen instead. The present hall was erected by Sir Michael le Fleming, and it may be hoped that at some future time there will be an edifice more worthy of so beautiful a position. With regard to the 30th sonnet it is odd enough that this imagination was realised in the year 1840 when I made a tour through that district with my wife and daughter, Miss Fenwick and her niece, and Mr. and Mrs. Quillinan. Before our return from Seathwaite Chapel the party separated. Mrs. Wordsworth, while most of us went further up the stream, chose an opposite direction, having told us that we should overtake her on our way to Ulpha. But she was tempted out of the main road to ascend a rocky eminence near it, thinking it impossible we should pass without seeing her. This, however, unfortunately happened, and then ensued vexation and distress, especially to me, which I should be ashamed to have recorded, for I lost my temper entirely. Neither I nor those that were with me saw her again till we reached the Inn at Broughton, seven miles. This may perhaps in some degree excuse my irritability on the occasion, for I could not but think she had been much to blame. It appeared, however, on explanation that she had remained on the rock, calling out and waving her handkerchief as we were passing, in order that we also might ascend and enjoy a prospect which had much charmed her. "But on we went, her signals proving vain." How then could she reach Broughton before us? When we found she had not gone on before to Ulpha Kirk, Mr. Quillinan went back in one of the carriages in search of her. He met her on the road, took her up, and by a shorter way conveyed her to Broughton, where we were all re-united and spent a happy evening.
I have many affecting remembrances connected with this stream. Those I forbear to mention; especially things that occurred on its banks during the later part of that visit to the sea-side, of which the former part is detailed in my Epistle to Sir George Beaumont.—I. F.]
The River Duddon rises upon Wrynose Fell, on the confines of Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire; and, having served[427] as a boundary to the two last[428] counties for the space of about twenty-five miles, enters the Irish Sea, between the Isle of Walney and the Lordship of Millum.—W. W. 1820.[EQ]
VARIANTS:
[427] 1837.
1820.
. . . and, serving
[428] 1827.
1820.
. . . latter
FOOTNOTE:
[EQ] Wordsworth delighted in tracing the course of rivers all the way from their source to the sea. On November 12, 1808, Southey wrote to his son, "If I go" (it was to Workington) "it will be with Wordsworth, for the sake of tracing the Derwent the whole way." (See Selections from the Letters of Robert Southey, vol. ii. p. 108.)—Ed.
TO THE REV. DR. WORDSWORTH[429][ER]
(WITH THE SONNETS TO THE RIVER DUDDON, AND OTHER POEMS IN THIS COLLECTION, 1820[430])
The Minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.
Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze,
Nor check, the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand!
And who but listened?—till was paid
Respect to every Inmate's claim:
The greeting given, the music played,
In honour of each household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And "merry Christmas" wished to all!
O Brother! I revere the choice
That took thee from thy native hills;
And it is given thee to rejoice:
Though public care full often tills
(Heaven only witness of the toil)
A barren and ungrateful soil.
25
Yet, would that Thou, with me and mine,
Hadst heard this never-failing rite;
And seen on other faces shine
A true revival of the light
Which Nature and these rustic Powers,
In simple childhood, spread through ours!
For pleasure hath not ceased to wait
On these expected annual rounds;
Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate
Call forth the unelaborate sounds,
Or they are offered at the door
That guards the lowliest of the poor.
How touching, when, at midnight, sweep
Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark,
To hear—and sink again to sleep!
Or, at an earlier call, to mark,
By blazing fire, the still suspense
Of self-complacent innocence;
The mutual nod,—the grave disguise
Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er;
And some unbidden tears that rise
For names once heard, and heard no more;
Tears brightened by the serenade
For infant in the cradle laid.
Ah! not for emerald fields alone,
With ambient streams more pure and bright
Than fabled Cytherea's zone[ES]
Glittering before the Thunderer's sight,
Is to my heart of hearts endeared
The ground where we were born and reared!
55
Hail, ancient Manners! sure defence,
Where they survive, of wholesome laws;
Remnants of love whose modest sense
Thus into narrow room withdraws;
Hail, Usages of pristine mould,
And ye that guard them, Mountains old!
Bear with me, Brother! quench the thought
That slights this passion, or condemns;
If thee fond Fancy ever brought
From the proud margin of the Thames,
And Lambeth's venerable towers,[ET]
To humbler streams, and greener bowers.
Yes, they can make, who fail to find,
Short leisure even in busiest days;
Moments, to cast a look behind,
And profit by those kindly rays
That through the clouds do sometimes steal,
And all the far-off past reveal.
Hence, while the imperial City's din
Beats frequent on thy satiate ear,
A pleased attention I may win
To agitations less severe,
That neither overwhelm nor cloy,
But fill the hollow vale with joy![EU]
VARIANTS:
[429] 1827.
1820.
To the Rev. Dr. W——.
[430] The date, 1820, was first inserted in the edition of 1837.
FOOTNOTES:
[ER] In the first edition of 1820, this dedicatory poem is not placed at the beginning of the series, but between the lines Composed at Cora Linn, and Repentance. The whole volume, however,—including many other poems besides those on the Duddon, and the Topographical Description of the Country of the Lakes in the North of England—is dedicated thus, "To the Rev. Christopher Wordsworth, D.D., etc. etc., these sonnets called forth by one of the most beautiful streams of his native county, are respectfully inscribed, by his affectionate brother, William Wordsworth."—Ed.
[ES] The fields and streams were those around Cockermouth and Hawkshead. It was near the island Cythera that Aphrodite was said, according to some legends, to have risen from the sea-foam. Hence the term "Cytherea's zone." The "Thunderer" is, of course, Jupiter Tonans.—Ed.
[ET] Dr. Christopher Wordsworth, afterwards Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, was then Rector of Lambeth parish.—Ed.
[EU] With this last stanza compare what Charles Lamb wrote to Dorothy Wordsworth on May 25, 1820, after reading the poem: "I have traced the Duddon in thought and with repetition along the banks (alas!) of the Lea—(unpoetical name): it is always flowing and murmuring in my ears." (Letters of Charles Lamb, edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. ii. p. 56.)—Ed.
I
"NOT ENVYING LATIAN SHADES—IF YET THEY THROW"
Not envying Latian shades—if yet they throw
A grateful coolness round that crystal Spring,
Blandusia, prattling—as when long ago
The Sabine Bard was moved her praise to sing;[431][EV]
Careless of flowers that in perennial blow
Round the moist marge of Persian fountains cling;
Heedless of Alpine torrents thundering
Through ice-built arches[432] radiant as heaven's bow;
I seek the birth-place of a native Stream.—[EW]
All hail, ye mountains! hail, thou morning light!
Better to breathe at large on this clear height
Than toil[433] in needless sleep from dream to dream:
Pure flow the verse, pure, vigorous, free, and bright,
For Duddon, long-loved Duddon, is my theme!
VARIANTS:
[431] 1837.
Not envying shades which haply yet may throw
A grateful coolness round that rocky spring,
Blandusia, once responsive to the string
Of the Horatian lyre with babbling flow;
[432] 1837.
1820.
Through icy portals . . .
[433] 1837.
Better to breathe upon this aëry height
Than pass . . .
FOOTNOTES:
[EV] See Horace, Carmina III. 13, Ad fontem Blandusiæ:
. . . unde loquaces
Lymphæ desiliunt tuæ,
and compare Epistolae I. 16, 9.—Ed.
[EW] Mr. Herbert Rix—late Assistant Secretary to the Royal Society—has made a very minute and careful study of the Duddon Valley—repeated during many seasons—with the object of localising the allusions in the sonnets. I am indebted to him for the following notes, which bear his name.
The Rev. Canon Rawnsley has also studied the Duddon Valley with great care, and I place his comments beside those of Mr. Rix, both when they are supplementary, and when they differ from the conclusions come to by Mr. Rix.—Ed.
"The Duddon rises on Wrynose Fell, near to the 'Three-Shire Stone,' where Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire meet, though which of the rills descending from the heights above Wrynose Gap and uniting to form the streamlet which flows along the pass, is to be regarded as the ultimate source, or which of them the poet may have followed, it would perhaps be difficult to say. More than one takes its rise in just such a spot as we find described in the second and third sonnets, where the 'lofty waste' is haunted by the Spirit of 'Desolation,' where the 'whistling blast' sweeps bleakly by, and where 'naked stones,' such as the poet chose for his seat, are scattered all around. James Thorne, in his Rambles by Rivers (London, 1844, p. 10), has given a rough woodcut of the source of the Duddon." (Herbert Rix.)
"I was fortunate in seeking the 'birth-place of a native stream' after a very heavy fall of rain, and I followed the left hand branch to a basin, from which in winter time a full stream must pass with force, to judge by the deep channel-bed of white and bleached stones which the water has carved out of the peat-moss for itself. There was the clear height, and from it was seen quite distinctly Brathay Vale, and a glimpse of Duddon Vale at Cockley Beck, and of Windermere Lake below Lowwood, and the bare Yorkshire hills far away to the east-south-east." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
II
"CHILD OF THE CLOUDS! REMOTE FROM EVERY TAINT"
Child of the clouds! remote from every taint
Of sordid industry thy lot is cast;
Thine are the honours of the lofty waste;[EX]
Not seldom, when with heat the valleys faint,
Thy handmaid Frost with spangled tissue quaint
Thy cradle decks;—to chant thy birth, thou hast
No meaner Poet than the whistling Blast,
And Desolation is thy Patron-saint![EXa]
She guards thee, ruthless Power! who would not spare
Those mighty forests, once the bison's screen,
Where stalked the huge deer to his shaggy lair[EY]
Through paths and alleys roofed with darkest[434] green
Thousands of years before the silent air
Was pierced by whizzing shaft of hunter keen!
VARIANTS:
[434] 1845.
1820.
. . . sombre . . .
FOOTNOTES:
[EX] [
[EXa] See note [EV] to the previous sonnet.—Ed.
[EY] The deer alluded to is the Leigh, a gigantic species long since extinct.—W. W. 1820.
"As one looks upon the peat-moss, with its fragments of birch trees laid bare by the stream, one could easily imagine that the poet had been led, as he gazed, to think of
Those mighty forests, once the bison's screen,
Where stalked the huge deer to his shaggy lair."
(H. D. Rawnsley.)
III
"HOW SHALL I PAINT THEE?—BE THIS NAKED STONE"
How shall I paint thee?—Be this naked stone
My seat, while I give way to such intent;
Pleased could my verse, a speaking monument,
Make to the eyes of men thy features known.
But as of all those tripping lambs not one
Outruns his fellows, so hath Nature lent
To thy beginning nought that doth present
Peculiar ground[435] for hope to build upon.
To dignify the spot that gives thee birth,
No sign of hoar Antiquity's esteem
Appears, and none of modern Fortune's care;
Yet thou thyself hast round thee shed a gleam
Of brilliant moss, instinct with freshness rare;[EZ]
Prompt offering to thy Foster-mother, Earth!
VARIANT:
[435] 1837.
1820.
. . . grounds . . .
FOOTNOTE:
[EZ] "'A gleam of brilliant moss' refers, no doubt, to the Sphagnum, or Bog-moss, which grows here in large patches, very noticeable among the sombre heather, and which shines like gold when the sunlight is upon it." (Herbert Rix.)
"On the edge of the saucer-like hollow, into which the rillets that make the stream descend, are glacier-banded rock outcrops, and on one of these is a rock perché, to which instinctively I turned for a seat. The lines in Sonnet III.—
How shall I paint thee?—Be this naked stone
My seat,
at once suggested themselves to me; and below me, as I sat, gleamed the 'brilliant moss, instinct with freshness rare,' which the poet's eyes had rejoiced in, so many years ago." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
IV
"TAKE, CRADLED NURSLING OF THE MOUNTAIN, TAKE"
Take, cradled Nursling of the mountain, take
This parting glance, no negligent adieu![FA]
A Protean change seems wrought while I pursue
The curves, a loosely-scattered chain doth make;
Or rather thou appear'st[436] a glittering snake,
Silent, and to the gazer's eye untrue,
Thridding with sinuous lapse the rushes, through
Dwarf willows gliding, and by ferny brake.
Starts from a dizzy steep the undaunted Rill
Robed instantly in garb of[437] snow-white foam;
And laughing dares the Adventurer, who hath clomb
So high, a rival purpose to fulfil;
Else let the dastard backward wend, and roam,
Seeking less bold achievement, where he will![FB]
VARIANTS:
[436] 1820.
c.
. . . I behold . . .
[437] 1820.
c.
Leaps instantly enrobed in . . .
FOOTNOTES:
[FA] "The 'parting glance' of this sonnet would naturally be taken just before rounding the brow of the hill. The path drops somewhat suddenly, so that two or three steps bring the traveller from a level whence looking backward the 'sinuous lapse' of the stream may be seen for some distance, to a stage where it is entirely hidden from view. Or, more likely, the 'sinuous lapse' is that which lies below the spectator, as he stands at this point of vantage, and looks down into Wrynose Bottom. The 'Protean change' is then the contrast between the 'cradled Nursling' as the poet looks back into Wrynose Gap, and the 'loosely-scattered chain' or 'glittering snake' which he sees below him, as he turns and looks down into Wrynose Bottom. These similes are accurately descriptive of the river so seen, especially towards evening when the western light is on the water. From this point the Duddon descends to the valley by a quick series of falls. The first of these falls—a very pretty cascade just at the edge of the hill—is probably the 'dizzy steep' mentioned in the sonnet." (Herbert Rix.)
[FB] "As I went towards the road which leads down from the Three Shire Stones to Cockley Beck, I constantly found myself repeating Sonnet number IV.
The stream seemed now 'a loosely-scattered chain to make,' now to 'appear a glittering snake,' silently 'thridding with sinuous lapse the rushes, through' (if we might call the bog-myrtle bushes dwarf willows) 'dwarf willows gliding, and by ferny brake.'
I regained the main road, and took a parting, 'no negligent adieu' at the 'cradled nursling'; and saw the cascade at the grotto—wherefrom I first began to track the 'nursling' to its upland cradle—as white as snow in May. There, thought I, is the sight that suggested the line—
Starts from a dizzy steep the undaunted Rill.
But, if the poet had needed suggestion of such a picture, and he had been at my side, he would have seen in three other directions, from the place where I was standing, three 'cataracts blowing their trumpets from the steep.' And I could have been induced to follow three other streams up into the Fells towards the north for the birth-place of the 'cradled nursling.'
As I descended towards Cockley Beck I constantly looked for the 'rushes,' the 'dwarf willows,' and the 'ferny brake,' spoken of in Sonnet IV., constantly looked for some other spot where I might take a 'parting glance' of the stream, which would satisfy the requirements of the description in Sonnet IV.; but I found none.
One thing is worth mentioning. Wordsworth is describing the Duddon as a Cumberland stream, his native stream, and he is accurate as ever. For one is struck, in descending from the Three Shire Stones to Cockley Beck, at the way in which all the feeders of the Duddon rise to the north on the Cumbrian Fells, and how comparatively waterless are the slopes of Grey Friars, on the southern or Lancashire side of the pass." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
V
"SOLE LISTENER, DUDDON! TO THE BREEZE THAT PLAYED"
Sole listener, Duddon! to the breeze that played
With thy clear voice, I caught the fitful sound
Wafted o'er sullen moss and craggy mound—
Unfruitful solitudes, that seemed to upbraid
The sun in heaven!—but now, to form a shade
For Thee, green alders have together wound
Their foliage; ashes flung their arms around;
And birch-trees risen in silver colonnade.
And thou hast also tempted here to rise,
'Mid sheltering pines, this Cottage rude and grey;
Whose ruddy children, by the mother's eyes
Carelessly watched, sport through the summer day,
Thy pleased associates:—light as endless May
On infant bosoms lonely Nature lies.[FC]
FOOTNOTE:
[FC] "Sonnet V. is generally taken to be descriptive of Cockley Beck. Here, as we emerge from Wrynose Bottom, the first trees meet the eye after a full two miles of monotony and stones, and here, too, is the first cottage where the 'ruddy children' of another generation 'sport through the summer day.' The cottage itself is not indeed surrounded at the present time by 'sheltering pines'—that is a feature which applies better to another cottage half a mile lower down the stream—but they may, of course, have disappeared since Wordsworth's day; indeed, I was informed in 1885, by a woman then living in the cottage, that many which formerly stood behind the cottage had been felled within her own memory. A very accurate picture of the cottage and neighbouring bridge is given in Harry Goodwin's Through the Wordsworth Country. There is also a sketch at page 15 of Thorne's Rambles by Rivers." (Herbert Rix.)
"Wordsworth would probably have in his mind most of the few cots and farms in the upper reaches of the Duddon Vale as he wrote his Sonnet v. Half-a-mile south, the 'craggy mound' of the castle-like rock would rear out of mid-valley impressively enough. The larches that now sway and whisper about Cockley Beck, or on the little mound to the east of it, would then only be tiny trees. The birches may have risen in 'silver colonnade,' but now a few ashes, a few poplars, a few alders are the only trees near. Still, for the most part, the term 'unfruitful solitudes' characterises the spot; and as the traveller at Cockley Beck looks north and east, these solitudes become impressively solemn from the dark desolation of craggy fell-side and utter treelessness." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
VI
FLOWERS
Ere yet our course was graced with social trees
It lacked not old remains of hawthorn bowers,
Where small birds warbled to their paramours;
And, earlier still, was heard the hum of bees;
I saw them ply their harmless robberies,
And caught the fragrance which the sundry flowers,
Fed by the stream with soft perpetual showers,
Plenteously yielded to the vagrant breeze.
There bloomed the strawberry of the wilderness;
The trembling eyebright showed her sapphire blue,[FD]
The thyme her purple, like the blush of Even;
And if the breath of some to no caress
Invited, forth they peeped so fair to view,
All kinds alike seemed favourites of Heaven.[FE]
FOOTNOTES:
There bloomed the strawberry of the wilderness;
The trembling eyebright showed her sapphire blue.
These two lines are in a great measure taken from The Beauties of Spring, a Juvenile Poem, by the Rev. Joseph Sympson, author of The Vision of Alfred, etc. He was a native of Cumberland, and was educated in the vale of Grasmere, and at Hawkshead school: his poems are little known, but they contain passages of splendid description; and the versification of his Vision of Alfred is harmonious and animated. The present severe season,[438] with its amusements, reminds me of some lines which I will transcribe as a favourable specimen. In describing the motions of the Sylphs, that constitute the strange machinery of his Vision of Alfred, he uses the following illustrative simile:—
Glancing from their plumes
A changeful light the azure vault illumes.
Less varying hues beneath the Pole adorn
The streamy glories of the Boreal morn,
That wavering to and fro their radiance shed
On Bothnia's gulf with glassy ice o'erspread,
Where the lone native, as he homeward glides,
On polish'd sandals o'er the imprisoned tides,
And still the balance of his frame preserves,
Wheel'd on alternate foot in lengthening curves,
Sees at a glance, above him and below,
Two rival heav'ns with equal splendour glow.
Sphered in the centre of the world he seems,
For all around with soft effulgence gleams;
Stars, moons, and meteors, ray opposed to ray,
And solemn midnight pours the blaze of day.
He was a man of ardent feeling, and his faculties of mind, particularly his memory, were extraordinary. Brief notices of his life ought to find a place in the History of Westmoreland.—W. W. 1820.
[FE] "Even in the 'unfruitful solitudes' of Wrynose, one may find—sheltered in the little gullies which the rills have worn down the fell-side—not only the strawberry, speedwell, and thyme, mentioned in the sonnet, but sundry other flowers, such as the Spearwort, Milkwort, Small Bedstraw, Euphrasia officinalis, and Potentilla tormentilla, but this and the following Sonnet were perhaps inspired by the beauty of the flowery meadows just below Cockley Beck." (Herbert Rix.)
"Wordsworth, from his Sonnet VI., would seem to have been describing the Duddon in April; and though by some misnomer 'the little speedwell's darling blue' has by him been called the 'trembling eyebright,' to-day in July 1884—though the time of the singing of birds who 'warble to their paramours' is over and gone—one can see by Duddon-side these 'old remains of hawthorn bowers.'
But I shall never forget the beauty or the size of the golden feathery spikes of sweet-scented Gallium (lady's bed straw), or the wonderful odour of the self-heal, and the glory of the harebells, as I saw them carpeting the meadows near Cockley Beck, this July day, 1884; and, as I plucked the very faintly scented euphrasia (or eyebright), I wondered much which were the spring-flowers Wordsworth had in his mind that by their breath invited no caress. Would it be the buttercup, the daisy, or which? He must have had some definite flower—scentless, but not less beautiful—in his eye as he wrote Sonnet VI." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
[438] This refers to the year 1820, and the sentence only occurs in the edition of 1820.—Ed.
VII
"CHANGE ME, SOME GOD, INTO THAT BREATHING ROSE!"
"Change me, some God, into that breathing rose!"
The love-sick Stripling fancifully sighs,
The envied flower beholding, as it lies
On Laura's breast, in exquisite repose;
Or he would pass into her bird, that throws
The darts of song from out its wiry cage;
Enraptured,—could he for himself engage
The thousandth part of what the Nymph bestows;
And what the little careless innocent
Ungraciously receives. Too daring choice!
There are whose calmer mind it would content
To be an unculled floweret of the glen,
Fearless of plough and scythe; or darkling wren[FF]
That tunes on Duddon's banks her slender voice.
FOOTNOTE:
[FF] "The 'darkling wren' was flitting from bush to bush, tuneless but happy, as I walked towards the stepping-stones spoken of in Sonnets IX., X.; and the timid little sandpiper, with its plaintive note, shot back and forward from shallow to shallow." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
VIII
"WHAT ASPECT BORE THE MAN WHO ROVED OR FLED"
What aspect bore the Man who roved or fled,
First of his tribe, to this dark dell[FG]—who first
In this pellucid Current slaked his thirst?
What hopes came with him? what designs were spread
Along his path? His unprotected bed
What dreams encompassed? Was the intruder nursed
In hideous usages, and rites accursed,
That thinned the living and disturbed the dead?
No voice replies;—both air and earth are mute;[439]
And Thou, blue Streamlet, murmuring yield'st no more
Than a soft record, that, whatever fruit
Of ignorance thou might'st witness heretofore,
Thy function was to heal and to restore,
To soothe and cleanse, not madden and pollute!
VARIANT:
[439] 1837.
1820.
. . . the earth, the air is mute;
FOOTNOTES:
[FG] "The 'dark dell' is perhaps Hardknot Ghyll. It is the only spot in this part of the valley which could be so described. A footpath which passes through the farmyard of Black Hall runs alongside this ghyll and joins the Duddon Valley with the Whitehaven Road. The 'blue streamlet' would then perhaps be the little tributary which flows down the length of the ghyll over a slaty bed to join the Duddon below; or perhaps Wordsworth was mentally addressing the Duddon itself, though from the interior of the ghyll he would not be able to see it.
The alternative view is that by the 'dark dell' no particular spot is indicated but the whole of the upper valley of the Duddon, which is of a savage and forbidding aspect, and quite of a character to have inspired the sonnet. It is almost treeless, and the ground on either side of the stream is covered with bracken and loose blocks of slate, while the fells rise steeply on either hand, and are capped by naked crags.
As to the epithet 'blue' (line 10), the cerulean colour of the Duddon is one of its most exquisite characteristics, and is due, as Wordsworth has himself[FH] explained, to the hue of the rocks and gravel seen through the 'perfectly pellucid' water." (Herbert Rix.)
"This sonnet puzzles me from the use of the words dark dell. I could find nothing at all hereabout that could possibly be described so, until I looked back at the rain-black solitudes north of Cockley Beck, and imagined the poet using the word dark in the sense of mysterious, when I can imagine he would have been helped to this thought of hideous usages, and rites accursed, by the large Druid-like-looking boulders, and the mounds of burial, suggested by the moraine-heaps in the neighbourhood. But I think the 'blue Streamlet' must have been suggested by the light blue grey colour of the slate pebbles over which Duddon slides so easily here." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
[FH] See his Guide to the Lakes. Fifth edition. Kendal, 1835, p. 27.—Ed.
IX
THE STEPPING-STONES
The struggling Rill insensibly is grown
Into a Brook of loud and stately march,
Crossed ever and anon by plank or[440] arch;
And, for like use, lo! what might seem a zone
Chosen for ornament—stone matched with stone
In studied symmetry, with interspace
For the clear waters to pursue their race
Without restraint. How swiftly have they flown,
Succeeding—still succeeding! Here the Child
Puts, when the high-swoln Flood runs fierce and wild,
His budding courage to the proof; and here
Declining Manhood learns to note the sly
And sure encroachments of infirmity,
Thinking how fast time runs, life's end how near![FI]
FOOTNOTES:
[FI] "There are four sets of stepping-stones across the Duddon. The first set is between Cockley Beck and Birks Brig, opposite to a farmhouse called Dale Head; the second set, called by the natives of the district the 'Fiddle Steps,' is in a deep hollow between Birks Brig and Seathwaite, at a point where the footpath to Eskdale crosses the Duddon; the third is opposite Seathwaite, and the fourth just above Ulpha.
Of these, the second and fourth may, I think, be disregarded. The question lies between the first and third, which we will call respectively the upper and the lower stones.
James Thorne has fixed upon the upper stones as those of Wordsworth's two sonnets, and has given a picture of them. His woodcut is very rude, but is sufficiently defined by the number of the stones, the gate on the right, and the distant cottage on the left. Mrs. Lynn Linton, too, in her Lake Country (London, 1864, p. 251), claims the honour for the same set, and has given (p. 252), a very pretty picture of them. Miss Martineau, on the contrary, in her Survey of the Lake District,[441] appears to regard the stones opposite Seathwaite as the stones; and the Rev. F. A. Malleson, in his article on 'Wordsworth and the Duddon,'[442] takes the same view. This is the view which local tradition favours, for any inhabitant of Seathwaite or Ulpha, if asked for 'Wordsworth's Stones,' would at once direct the stranger to the lower stones.
There is something to be said for each of these opinions. The upper stones fit in with the order of the sonnets, coming after the sonnet about Cockley Beck, and before the sonnets about the Faëry Chasm, Seathwaite Chapel, and Ulpha Kirk. Moreover, the emphasis of the earlier sonnets in general, and of the opening lines of Sonnet IX. in particular, is on the growth of the 'struggling rill'—a thought which would be rather out of place if it came later in the series.
On the other hand the 'zone chosen for ornament,' and the 'studied symmetry' are more applicable to the lower than to the upper stones; they are of a bluish tint, are set at equal distances, and form a slight curve down stream, looking to a fanciful eye as though they were bending with the current. They are now (1894) disused, having been abandoned, on account of the frequent floods, in favour of a foot-bridge recently erected a little higher up the stream; and already the path to the stepping-stones is overgrown and nearly obliterated. If the sonnets are taken to refer to the lower stones 'yon high rock' would probably mean Wallabarrow; if to the upper stones, they would doubtless mean Castle How, a solitary and noticeable rock." (Herbert Rix.)
"One cannot but believe that Wordsworth, as he wrote Sonnets IX., X., had in his mind the third series of stepping-stones opposite Seathwaite, and under Wallabarrow Crag.
None of the others are fitly described as
a zone chosen for ornament.
Is it not possible that the word 'struggling,' as applied to rill,—when viewed in connection with the words 'without restraint,' in line 8 of Sonnet IX.—points with great definiteness to the localising of the Sonnet at these Seathwaite stones?
Certainly the stream as it has descended through the 'deep chasm' of Sonnet XV. between the Pen and Wallabarrow, is well described as having grown after a struggle into a brook of loud and stately march at this point. There are no likelier spots for the children to have put
Their budding courage to the proof
than here, for there are several houses and farms on the wayside, whose younger inmates would have come down to these stepping-stones, in order to get to the village school, that 'Wonderful Walker' kept with so much honour at Seathwaite in olden time." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
[441] Whellan's History and Topography of Westmoreland and Cumberland, 4to, Pontefract, 1860, p. 56.
[442] Good Words, vol. xxiv. p. 579.
VARIANTS:
[440] 1837.
1820.
. . . and . . .
X
THE SAME SUBJECT
Not so that Pair whose youthful spirits dance
With prompt emotion, urging them to pass;
A sweet confusion checks the Shepherd-lass;
Blushing she eyes the dizzy flood askance;
To stop ashamed—too timid to advance;
She ventures once again—another pause!
His outstretched hand He tauntingly withdraws—
She sues for help with piteous utterance!
Chidden she chides again; the thrilling touch
Both feel, when he renews the wished-for aid:
Ah! if their fluttering hearts should stir too much,
Should beat too strongly, both may be betrayed.
The frolic Loves, who, from yon high rock, see
The struggle, clap their wings for victory!
XI
THE FAËRY CHASM[FJ]
No fiction was it of the antique age:
A sky-blue stone, within this sunless cleft,
Is of the very foot-marks unbereft
Which tiny Elves impressed;—on that smooth stage
Dancing with all their brilliant equipage
In secret revels—haply after theft
Of some sweet Babe—Flower stolen, and coarse Weed left
For the distracted Mother to assuage
Her grief with, as she might!—But, where, oh! where
Is traceable a vestige of the notes
That ruled those dances wild in character?—
Deep underground? Or in the upper air,
On the shrill wind of midnight? or where floats
O'er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer?
FOOTNOTE:
[FJ] "Adopting the view that Sonnets IX. and X. refer to the stepping-stones at Dale Head, the position of the 'Faëry Chasm,' which has often caused perplexity, becomes clear. It must be looked for not below but considerably above Seathwaite, and is, in fact, the very next striking feature that occurs after the stepping-stones at Dale Head are passed. It is, I believe, the rocky gorge which is crossed by Birks Brig.
The stream is here precipitated down a series of falls, and at the same time is forced into a much narrower channel than it has hitherto occupied. In its downward course it is thrust from side to side in a series of rebounds, the effect being that the flood is churned into a mass of foam, while the rocks between which it is driven are scooped and chiselled into the most fantastic shapes—basins and niches, caverns and arches, and pillars with an odd spiral twist. Anything of a more elfin character could hardly be conceived.
The turbulence of the water as it descends towards the bridge is very well expressed in the charming little sketch given at page 245 of Mrs. Lynn Linton's Lake Country, but the cleft itself is not there represented. Of that, or a part of it, an illustration has been given by Mr. Chattock in his etchings of the River Duddon published in 1884 by the Fine Art Society.
Neither Mr. Chattock nor Mrs. Lynn Linton has, however, identified the spot with the 'Faëry Chasm.' Mr. Chattock associates it with Sonnet XX., though the imagery of that sonnet must, as he himself confesses, have been 'inspired by some scene farther down the river,' while Mrs. Lynn Linton (p. 251) finds the 'Faëry Chasm' at Gowdrel Crag. This latter view, which is, apparently, that adopted also by Canon Rawnsley, is a very possible alternative, and is favoured by the fact that the bed of the stream is at that point strewn with blocks of sky-blue stone. In that case Sonnets XI. and XII. refer to the same chasm. Mr. Goodwin in Through the Wordsworth Country, illustrates a note on the Faëry Chasm by a picture of the chasm at Wallabarrow, and of all the 'clefts' this best fits with the epithet 'sunless'; but is it not too vast for fairy scenes?
I could not learn that any faëry tradition was associated with either place." (Herbert Rix.)
"I cannot rest satisfied that the Faëry Chasm of Sonnet XI. is to be looked for at Birks Brig. No sky-blue stone, above water or below, can be pointed out—
As a smooth stage on which the tiny elves
Could leave their foot-prints as they danced in secret revels.
But if the wanderer by Duddon Vale rejoins the road till it passes these same farm buildings further down the valley, will strike into the field, and, attracted by the roar of the stream, search for the locality set forth in Sonnet XII., he will find in mid-stream a huge blue-grey boulder that may have suggested Sonnet XI. to the poet." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
XII
HINTS FOR THE FANCY[FK]
On, loitering Muse—the swift Stream chides us—on!
Albeit his deep-worn channel doth immure
Objects immense portrayed in miniature,
Wild shapes for many a strange comparison!
Niagaras, Alpine passes, and anon
Abodes of Naiads, calm abysses pure,
Bright liquid mansions, fashioned to endure
When the broad oak drops, a leafless skeleton,
And the solidities of mortal pride,
Palace and tower, are crumbled into dust!—
The Bard who walks with Duddon for his guide,
Shall find such toys of fancy thickly set:
Turn from the sight, enamoured Muse—we must;
And, if thou canst, leave them without regret![443]
VARIANT:
[443] 1827.
1820.
Leave them—and, if thou canst, without regret!
FOOTNOTE:
[FK] "Almost immediately after leaving Birks Brig the stream plunges into a gorge—the 'deep-worn channel' of this sonnet. By dint of a little clambering, all the picturesque features described in the sonnet may be seen, but the traveller is forced at last to resume the road. The channel is so deep and confined that the stream cannot be seen from the road, and this is the first time since leaving the source that the Duddon is lost to sight. It is this fact which gives rise to the concluding lines of the sonnet:—
Turn from the sight, enamoured Muse—we must;
And, if thou canst, leave them without regret!"
(Herbert Rix.)
XIII
OPEN PROSPECT[FL]
Hail to the fields—with Dwellings sprinkled o'er,
And one small hamlet, under a green hill
Clustering,[444] with barn and byre, and spouting mill!
A glance suffices;—should we wish for more,
Gay June would scorn us. But when bleak winds roar
Through the stiff lance-like shoots of pollard ash,[FM]
Dread swell of sound! loud as the gusts that lash
The matted forests of Ontario's shore
By wasteful steel unsmitten—then would I
Turn into port; and, reckless of the gale,
Reckless of angry Duddon sweeping by,
While the warm hearth exalts the mantling ale,
Laugh with the generous household heartily
At all the merry pranks of Donnerdale!
VARIANT:
[444] 1837.
1820.
Cluster'd, . . .
FOOTNOTES:
[FL] "In determining the spot to which this sonnet belongs two conditions have to be satisfied. In the first place, Seathwaite must be seen from it; and, in the second, there must be an open prospect of fields. Now, from Cockley Beck to Ulpha there is no single spot upon the road satisfying these two conditions. Unless the line of the river is entirely abandoned, and some point of view high up on the fells is taken, there is, I believe, only one station in all the valley which supplies them, and that is the summit of a rock called in maps and guide-books 'Pen Crag,' but which the dalesmen always call simply 'The Pen' (not to be confounded with the mountain of that name lower down the valley on the west). There is an additional reason for regarding the Pen as the station whence Wordsworth viewed his 'open prospect,' namely, that the point from which the ascent of the crag is most conveniently made is identical with the point where the Duddon makes his second plunge into a rocky abyss, which plunge is signalised in the very next sonnet (XIV.). Thus, at the very spot where the poet is enabled to gain a view of 'the haunts of men,' 'some awful Spirit' impels the torrent 'utterly to desert' those haunts, and to make a second plunge into the wilderness. An increased significance is thus given to each of the sonnets (XIII. and XIV.) by the juxtaposition of the localities which they describe.
I should explain, in connection with this, that the Pen stands in the centre of the valley, a prominent and inviting look-out, and that the easy slope, by which it is on one side ascended, rises from the high-road, so that anybody who cares for views at all—and Wordsworth above all people—would not think of passing by without climbing to such an obvious point of vantage.
The 'one small hamlet' (line 2) is Seathwaite, which lies just below the Pen.
The 'barn and byre' (line 3) must have belonged to Newfield, the only farmhouse in the foreground.
The 'spouting mill' (line 3) is now a ruin. In Wordsworth's time it was in full work. Later (in the autumn of 1842), when it was visited by James Thorne, the wheel was broken, the machinery decaying, and the roof partly fallen in. At the present time, wheel, machinery, and roof have totally disappeared, and there is nothing to indicate that it ever was a mill. It was only by inquiring of the older inhabitants that I learnt these ruined walls standing by the Beck represent that 'mill for spinning yarn,' of which Wordsworth says that it calls to mind 'the momentous changes wrought by such inventions in the frame of society.' The ruin stands on the Tarn Beck, a few yards below Seathwaite Chapel, and on the other side of the stream.
The last three lines of the sonnet,
While the warm hearth exalts the mantling ale, etc.,
are probably an allusion to the Inn which, in Wordsworth's time, was to be found here. This is now a farmstead. It is called Newfield, and is just below Seathwaite Chapel. In Wordsworth's day it was inn and farm combined.
Mr. Malleson, in the article quoted above, appears (p. 576) to regard the green slope ascending towards Seathwaite Tarn, which opens on the left about a mile before the traveller reaches Seathwaite Chapel, as the 'Open Prospect'; but, though the fields here are certainly 'sprinkled o'er with dwellings,' the juxtaposition of the 'hamlet,' the 'barn and byre,' and the 'spouting mill' is wanting, and the allusion to the inn loses its point." (Herbert Rix.)
"It may be of interest to know that still the Newfield farm (in Wordsworth's time farm and inn combined) keeps up the well-deserved description of the poet. It is still 'a generous household.' When the yeoman, who was the last innkeeper and farmer combined, was on his death-bed, he enjoined those to whom Newfield passed to remember that 'though the license was to drop, and it was to become a private house, yet no stranger in the valley who requested a night's lodging was ever to be refused,' and the generous household are proud to keep up the tradition of hospitality." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
[FM] Compare Virgil, Æneid iii. 23—
Densis hastilibus horrida myrtus.
(W. G. Rushbrooke.)
XIV
"O MOUNTAIN STREAM! THE SHEPHERD AND HIS COT"
O mountain Stream! the Shepherd and his Cot
Are privileged Inmates of deep solitude;
Nor would the nicest Anchorite exclude
A field or two of brighter green, or plot
Of tillage-ground, that seemeth like a spot
Of stationary sunshine:—thou hast viewed
These only, Duddon! with their paths renewed
By fits and starts, yet this contents thee not.
Thee hath some awful Spirit impelled to leave,
Utterly to desert, the haunts of men,[FN]
Though simple thy companions were and few;
And through this wilderness a passage cleave
Attended but by thy own voice, save when
The clouds and fowls of the air thy way pursue!
This sonnet was first published in the small two-volume edition of the Poems in 1807, and was therefore written during or before 1807. In the present edition, however, it was not printed amongst the poems belonging to that year, since its appropriate place is manifestly in the series of sonnets relating to the River Duddon.—Ed.
FOOTNOTE:
[FN] See note [FL] p. [243].—Ed.
XV
"FROM THIS DEEP CHASM, WHERE QUIVERING SUNBEAMS PLAY"
From this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play
Upon its loftiest crags, mine eyes behold
A gloomy NICHE, capacious, blank, and cold;[FO]
A concave free from shrubs and mosses grey;
In semblance fresh, as if, with dire affray,
Some Statue, placed amid these regions old
For tutelary service, thence had rolled,
Startling the flight of timid Yesterday!
Was it by mortals sculptured?—weary slaves
Of slow endeavour! or abruptly cast
Into rude shape by fire, with roaring blast
Tempestuously let loose from central caves?
Or fashioned by the turbulence of waves,
Then, when o'er highest hills the Deluge pass'd?
FOOTNOTE:
[FO] "The 'deep chasm' of this sonnet is identical with the 'passage cleft through the wilderness' of Sonnet XIV. It lies between the Pen on the left hand, and Wallabarrow Crag on the right. As to the niche, which forms the subject of the sonnet, it cannot now be identified. There are, of course, plenty of such niches in the crags which tower above the Duddon just here, but none more striking than the rest. From the fact that it was 'free from shrubs and mosses grey,' one may perhaps infer that it was a place in the cliff from which a mass of rock had recently fallen. The bed of the stream just here is a chaos of such masses of rock, some of them being of enormous size.
Mr. Chattock identifies the 'chasm' with that at Gowdrel, higher up the river—a view which, besides breaking the order of the sonnets, would seem to be excluded by Wordsworth's note on Sonnets XVII. and XVIII., wherein he expressly states that the scenery 'which gave occasion to the sonnets from the 14th to the 20th inclusive,' lies about Seathwaite. Mr. Chattock's remark that 'the rocks are columnar in character,' so that the fall of a fragment readily gives rise to the appearance of an elongated 'niche,' is worthy of note. It would probably apply to either chasm." (Herbert Rix.)
"I searched most carefully for some
Gloomy niche, capacious, blank, and cold,
on Wallabarrow, but found none there sufficiently striking to suggest Sonnet XV. Standing at Newfield Farm and looking north to the Pen, where it rises beyond the ruined mill, there certainly is upon its southern face just such a niche, but the green ivy has displaced the 'gloom.'" (H. D. Rawnsley.)
XVI
AMERICAN TRADITION
Such fruitless questions may not long beguile
Or plague the fancy 'mid the sculptured shows
Conspicuous yet where Oroonoko flows;
There would the Indian answer with a smile
Aimed at the White Man's ignorance the while,
Of the Great Waters telling how they rose,
Covered the plains, and, wandering where they chose,
Mounted through every intricate defile,
Triumphant.—Inundation wide and deep,
O'er which his Fathers urged, to ridge and steep
Else unapproachable, their buoyant way;
And carved, on mural cliff's undreaded side,
Sun, moon, and stars, and beast of chase or prey;
Whate'er they sought, shunned, loved, or deified![FP]
FOOTNOTE:
[FP] See Humboldt's Personal Narrative.—W. W. 1820.
"I cannot quit this first link (the finding of a piece of gold) of the mountains of Encaramada without recalling to mind a fact that was not unknown to Father Gili, and which was often mentioned to me during our abode in the Missions of the Orinoco. The natives of those countries have retained the belief that, 'at the time of the great waters, when their fathers were forced to have recourse to boats to escape the general inundation, the waves of the sea beat against the rocks of Encaramada.' This belief is not confined to one nation singly, the Tamanacs; it makes part of a system of historical tradition, of which we find scattered notions among the Maypures of the great cataracts, among the Indians of the Rio Erevato, which runs into the Caura, and among almost all the tribes of the Upper Orinoco. When the Tamanacs are asked how the human race survived this great Deluge, the 'age of water' of the Mexicans, they say, 'a man and a woman saved themselves on a high mountain, called Tamanacu, situated on the banks of the Asiveru, and casting behind them, over their heads, the fruits of the Mauritia palm-tree, they saw the seeds contained in those fruits produce men and women, who re-peopled the earth.' Thus we find in all its simplicity, among nations now in a savage state, a tradition which the Greeks embellished with all the charms of imagination! A few leagues from Encaramada, a rock, called Tepu-mereme, or 'the painted rock,' rises in the midst of the Savannah. Upon it are traced representations of animals, and symbolic figures resembling those we saw in going down the Orinoco, at a small distance below Encaramada, near the town Caycara. Similar rocks in Africa are called by travellers fetish-stones. I shall not make use of this term, because fetishism does not prevail among the natives of the Orinoco; and the figures of stars, of the sun, of tigers, and of crocodiles, which we found traced upon the rocks in spots now uninhabited, appeared to me in no way to denote the objects of worship of those nations. Between the banks of the Cassiquiare and the Orinoco, between Encaramada, the Capuchino, and Caycara, these hieroglyphic figures are often seen at great heights, on rocky cliffs which could be accessible only by constructing very lofty scaffolds. When the natives are asked how those figures could have been sculptured, they answer with a smile, as if relating a fact of which only a white man could be ignorant, that 'at the period of the great waters, their fathers went to that height in boats.'" Extract from Humboldt's Travels, vol. ii. chap. iv. pp. 182-3 (Bohn's Edition.)—Ed.
"The weathering of the volcanic ash of the Pen and the cliff of Wallabarrow opposite would naturally have suggested this sonnet. Evidence of ice-marking and glacier-action are not wanting in the neighbourhood." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
XVII
RETURN
A dark plume fetch me from yon blasted yew,
Perched on whose top the Danish Raven croaks;
Aloft, the imperial Bird[445] of Rome invokes
Departed ages, shedding where he flew[446]
Loose fragments of wild wailing, that bestrew
The clouds and thrill the chambers of the rocks;
And into silence hush the timorous flocks,
That, calmly couching[447] while the nightly dew
Moistened each fleece, beneath the twinkling stars
Slept amid[448] that lone Camp on Hardknot's height,
Whose Guardians bent the knee to Jove and Mars:
Or, near[449] that mystic Round of Druid frame
Tardily sinking by its proper weight
Deep into patient Earth, from whose smooth breast it came!
VARIANTS:
[445] 1820.
1838.
Wheeling aloft the Bird . . .
The text of 1840 returns to that of 1820.
[446] 1820.
1838.
. . . and still sheds anew
The text of 1840 returns to that of 1820.
[447] 1827.
1820.
That slept so calmly . . .
[448] 1827.
1820.
These couch'd mid . . .
[449] 1827.
1820.
These near . . .
XVIII
SEATHWAITE CHAPEL[FQ]
Sacred Religion! "mother of form and fear,"[FR]
Dread arbitress of mutable respect,
New rites ordaining when the old are wrecked,
Or cease to please the fickle worshipper,
Mother of Love! (that name best suits thee here)[450]
Mother of Love! for this deep vale, protect
Truth's holy lamp, pure source of bright effect,
Gifted to purge the vapoury atmosphere
That seeks to stifle it;—as in those days
When this low Pile a Gospel Teacher knew,
Whose good works formed an endless retinue:
A Pastor such as Chaucer's verse portrays;[451][FS]
Such as the heaven-taught skill of Herbert drew;[FT]
And tender Goldsmith crowned with deathless praise![FU]
VARIANTS:
[450] 1837.
. . . the fickle worshipper;
If one strong wish may be embosomed here,
[451] 1845.
1820.
Such Priest as Chaucer sang in fervent lays;
FOOTNOTES:
[FQ] "Seathwaite Chapel has been rebuilt. It may be worth mentioning that there is a woodcut of the original structure at p. 23 of Thorne's Rambles by Rivers (12mo, London, 1844), and a good engraving in the Rev. Canon Parkinson's Old Church Clock (5th edition, 1880, p. 99). The Parsonage, too, has been enlarged. It was formerly a mere cottage, with a peat-house at one end and an out-house of some kind at the other. These have been removed, and additions made to the dwelling at both ends. The brass in the church to the memory of 'Wonderful Walker' was taken from the tombstone. The stone has been turned over, and a new inscription cut." (Herbert Rix.)
[FR] See Daniel's Musophilus, l. 47.—Ed.
[FS] The allusion is to the description of the "poure persoun of a toun" in the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, ll. 477-528.—Ed.
[FT] See George Herbert's Priest to the Temple.—Ed.
[FU] The reference is to the lines in The Deserted Village—
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich on forty pounds a year.
XIX
TRIBUTARY STREAM[FV]
My frame hath often trembled with delight
When hope presented some far-distant good,
That seemed from heaven descending, like the flood
Of yon pure waters, from their aëry height
Hurrying, with lordly Duddon to unite;
Who, 'mid a world of images imprest
On the calm depth of his transparent breast,
Appears to cherish most that Torrent white,
The fairest, softest, liveliest of them all!
And seldom hath ear listened to a tune
More lulling than the busy hum of Noon,
Sworn by that voice—whose murmur musical
Announces to the thirsty fields a boon
Dewy and fresh, till showers again shall fall.
FOOTNOTE:
[FV] "The 'tributary stream,' which forms the subject of this sonnet, is the Tarn Beck, which rises in Seathwaite Tarn, and joins the Duddon just opposite Newfield. Seathwaite Chapel itself is not on the Duddon, but on the Tarn Beck. The sonnet gives a perfect description of its leading characteristics.
Mr. Chattock has given an etching of the Tarn." (Herbert Rix.)
"If one stands upon the Pen and looks up the Duddon Vale, the
Field or two of brighter green, or plot
Of tillage-ground, that seemeth like a spot
Of stationary sunshine:
will be seen, exactly described, upon the shoulder of the Fell that drops down from Heath Fell to the north-west. Is it possible that Wordsworth, as he gazed, was moved by
the flood
Of yon pure waters, from their aëry height
. . . that Torrent white,
just beneath the little upland farm with its emerald plot of tillage, shining like jewels in the July sun,
Hurrying, with lordly Duddon to unite,
—is it possible, I suggest, that Wordsworth was moved by this scene to write Sonnet XIX.?" (H. D. Rawnsley.)
XX
THE PLAIN OF DONNERDALE[FW]
The old inventive Poets, had they seen,
Or rather felt, the entrancement that detains
Thy waters, Duddon! 'mid these flowery plains;
The still repose, the liquid lapse serene,
Transferred to bowers imperishably green,
Had beautified Elysium! But these chains
Will soon be broken;—a rough course remains,[452]
Rough as the past; where Thou, of placid mien,
Innocuous as a firstling of the flock,
And countenanced like a soft cerulean sky,
Shalt change thy temper; and, with many a shock
Given and received in mutual jeopardy,
Dance, like a Bacchanal, from rock to rock,
Tossing her frantic thyrsus wide and high!
VARIANTS:
[452] 1820.
ms.
. . . and a course remains
. . . For a course remains,
FOOTNOTE:
[FW] "The term Donnerdale (now usually spelt Dunnerdale) is strictly applied to the district on the east bank of the Duddon from Broughton up to Ulpha Bridge, and extending thence parallel to Seathwaite, from which it is divided by fells. Guide-books sometimes apply the term to the whole valley of the Duddon, but this is entirely wrong; the term is never applied by the inhabitants to the upper or confined part of the valley, and is correctly used by Wordsworth to indicate the open plain of the lower stream.
Hall Dunnerdale, sometimes shortened into Dunnerdale, is a hamlet on the high-road between Seathwaite and Ulpha. From a bridge just below this hamlet the characteristics of the stream at this part of its course as described in Sonnet XX. may best be noted. The banks are thickly wooded with oak, ash, beech, alder, sycamore, and larch; the hills are lower and greener than the fells farther up the valley, and for the moment we might almost think we had been transported to the banks of the Wey, and were looking upon a Surrey landscape. The water above and below the bridge is comparatively still. But this, as the sonnet says, is not to last long,—'a rough course remains, rough as the past.' Before we reach Ulpha Bridge 'suspended animation is again succeeded by the clamorous war of stones and waters, which assail the ear of the traveller all the way to Duddon Bridge.'"[453] (Herbert Rix.)
[453] Green's Comprehensive Guide to the Lakes, quoted in Whellan's History and Topography, p. 59.
[Concerning the limits of Dunnerdale, the Rev. S. R. M. Walker, Vicar of Seathwaite, in answer to a question on the subject, wrote to Mr. Rix as follows:—
"Seathwaite Vicarage, June 21, 1883.
Dear Sir—I am not surprised at our topographical divisions giving a stranger difficulty. They belong to the cross kind. Thus, Dunnerdale (as it is now here usually spelled) forms an integral part of the civil division, or township, of Dunnerdale and Seathwaite, whilst ecclesiastically it is attached, not to Seathwaite, but to the ecclesiastical parish or district of Broughton-in-Furness; Seathwaite, Broughton-in-Furness, and Woodland (now all separate benefices), being so many outlying parts of the ancient ecclesiastical and civil parish of Kirkby-Ireleth. Dunnerdale itself is the name given to the district which lies on the east or Lancashire bank of the Duddon, from a point a few yards south of Ulpha bridge till it meets the boundary of Broughton proper, or the right bank of the Lickle, a small tributary of the Duddon, the main portion of it being enclosed in a little valley parallel to that of the Duddon. The fells bounding it do, on the more northern part, form a line of division from Seathwaite....
S. R. M. Walker.">[
XXI
"WHENCE THAT LOW VOICE?—A WHISPER FROM THE HEART"
Whence that low voice?—A whisper from the heart,
That told of days long past, when here I roved
With friends and kindred tenderly beloved;[FX]
Some who had early mandates to depart,
Yet are allowed to steal my path athwart
By Duddon's side; once more do we unite,
Once more beneath the kind Earth's tranquil light;
And smothered joys into new being start.
From her unworthy seat, the cloudy stall
Of Time, breaks forth triumphant Memory;
Her glistening tresses bound, yet light and free
As golden locks of birch, that rise and fall
On gales that breathe too gently to recal
Aught of the fading year's inclemency![FY]
FOOTNOTES:
[FX] See the Fenwick note prefixed to the Duddon Sonnets.—Ed.
[FY] "If, in Sonnet VI., Wordsworth was describing the Duddon in April, the lines
Golden locks of birch, that rise and fall
On gales that breathe too gently to recal
Aught of the fading year's inclemency,
tell us that he was a wanderer here in October also." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
XXII
TRADITION[FZ]
A love-lorn Maid, at some far-distant time,
Came to this hidden pool, whose depths surpass
In crystal clearness Dian's looking-glass;
And, gazing, saw that Rose, which from the prime
Derives its name, reflected as the chime
Of echo doth reverberate some sweet sound:
The starry treasure from the blue profound
She longed to ravish;—shall she plunge, or climb
The humid precipice, and seize the guest
Of April, smiling high in upper air?
Desperate alternative! what fiend could dare
To prompt the thought?—Upon the steep rock's breast
The lonely Primrose yet renews its bloom,
Untouched memento of her hapless doom!
FOOTNOTE:
[FZ] "This tradition appears to have completely died out. I asked many old inhabitants of the place if they had ever heard such a story, but it was quite new to them.
The scene of the tragedy is not, however, very difficult to identify. There are very few 'hidden pools' in this part of the stream; it is mostly a shallow, brawling brook. I have carefully tracked the stream from Donnerdale Bridge to Ulpha Bridge, and can only find two places which at all answer to the description given in the sonnet. One of these is opposite the 'Traveller's Rest' inn, the other, is a little higher up. This latter is a deep and placid pool, situated half way down a curious corridor, known as 'Long Dub,' where the stream flows for some distance in a straight line between walls of rough mountain slate, the strata having been tilted almost at right angles to their natural position. Here a little rill tumbles into the Duddon by a miniature cascade, and the pool is sheltered and darkened by oak and beech—a not unlikely spot to have inspired the sonnet." (Herbert Rix.)
XXIII
SHEEP-WASHING[GA]
Sad thoughts, avaunt!—partake we their blithe cheer
Who gathered in betimes the unshorn flock
To wash the fleece, where haply bands of rock,
Checking the stream, make a pool smooth and clear
As this we look on. Distant Mountains hear,[454]
Hear and repeat, the turmoil that unites
Clamour of boys with innocent despites
Of barking dogs, and bleatings from strange fear.
And what if Duddon's spotless flood receive[455]
Unwelcome mixtures as the uncouth noise
Thickens, the pastoral River will forgive
Such wrong; nor need we blame the licensed joys,
Though false to Nature's quiet equipoise:
Frank are the sports, the stains are fugitive.
VARIANTS:
[454] 1845.
Sad thoughts, avaunt!—the fervour of the year,
Poured on the fleece-encumbered flock, invites
To laving currents, for prelusive rites
Duly performed before the Dales-men shear
Their panting charge. The distant Mountains hear,
[455] 1845.
1820.
Meanwhile, if Duddon's spotless breast receive
FOOTNOTE:
[GA] "The pool under Ulpha Bridge has for many generations been used for sheep-washing. The sheep from Birks Farm are now (1894) washed there every year. If we suppose the poet, in one of his frequent journeys down the valley, to have paused upon the bridge to witness this pastoral sight, the local order of the Sonnets is maintained." (Herbert Rix.)
XXIV
THE RESTING-PLACE
Mid-noon is past;—upon the sultry mead
No zephyr breathes, no cloud its shadow throws:
If we advance unstrengthened by repose,
Farewell the solace of the vagrant reed!
This Nook[GB]—with woodbine hung and straggling weed,
Tempting recess as ever pilgrim chose,
Half grot, half arbour—proffers to enclose
Body and mind, from molestation freed,
In narrow compass—narrow as itself:
Or if the Fancy, too industrious Elf,
Be loth that we should breathe awhile exempt
From new incitements friendly to our task,
Here[456] wants not stealthy prospect, that may tempt
Loose Idless to forego her wily mask.
VARIANT:
[456] 1837.
1820.
There . . .
FOOTNOTE:
[GB] See note to Sonnet xxvii.—Ed.
XXV
"METHINKS 'TWERE NO UNPRECEDENTED FEAT"
Methinks 'twere no unprecedented feat
Should some benignant Minister of air
Lift, and encircle with a cloudy chair,
The One for whom my heart shall ever beat
With tenderest love;—or, if a safer seat
Atween his downy wings be furnished, there
Would lodge her, and the cherished burden bear
O'er hill and valley to this dim retreat!
Rough ways my steps have trod; too rough and long
For her companionship; here dwells soft ease:
With sweets that[457] she partakes not some distaste
Mingles, and lurking consciousness of wrong;
Languish the flowers; the waters seem to waste
Their vocal charm; their sparklings cease to please.
VARIANT:
[457] 1837.
1820.
. . . which . . .
XXVI
"RETURN, CONTENT! FOR FONDLY I PURSUED"
Return, Content! for fondly I pursued,
Even when a child, the Streams[GC]—unheard, unseen;
Through tangled woods, impending rocks between;
Or, free as air, with flying inquest viewed
The sullen reservoirs whence their bold brood—
Pure as the morning, fretful, boisterous, keen,
Green as the[458] salt-sea billows, white and green—
Poured down the hills, a choral multitude!
Nor have I tracked their course for scanty gains;
They taught me random cares and truant joys,
That shield from mischief and preserve from stains
Vague minds, while men are growing out of boys;
Maturer Fancy owes to their rough noise
Impetuous thoughts that brook not servile reins.
VARIANT:
[458] 1820.
c.
Sparkling like . . .
FOOTNOTE:
[GC] See note to Sonnet XXVII.—Ed.
XXVII
"FALLEN, AND DIFFUSED INTO A SHAPELESS HEAP"
Fallen, and diffused into a shapeless heap,
Or quietly self-buried in earth's mould,
Is that embattled House, whose massy Keep
Flung from yon cliff[459] a shadow large and cold.
There dwelt the gay, the bountiful, the bold;
Till nightly lamentations, like the sweep
Of winds—though[460] winds were silent—struck a deep
And lasting terror through that ancient Hold.
Its line of Warriors fled;—they shrunk when tried[461]
By ghostly power:—but Time's unsparing hand
Hath plucked such foes, like weeds, from out the land;
And now, if men with men in peace abide,
All other strength the weakest may withstand,
All worse assaults may safely be defied.[GD]
VARIANTS:
[459] 1819.
ms.
. . . height . . .
[460] 1827.
ms. and 1819.
. . . when . . .
[461] 1819.
There dwelt the rash, the bountiful, the bold,
The fair, the gay; undaunted, unabased;
Till supernatural visitation chased
That line of warriors from their ancient hold.
—Stranger they fled—their courage shrunk when tried
[462] Mr. J. Denton, quoted in Whellan's History and Topography, p. 410.
FOOTNOTE:
[GD] Sonnet No. XXVII. having been first published in The Waggoner and other poems (1819), was not reprinted in either of the editions of 1820. It was "taken from a tradition belonging to Rydal Hall," as is explained in the Fenwick note, p. 226.—Ed.
"Sonnets XXIV. to XXVII. appear to have been written in one spot,—some 'Nook—with woodbine hung and straggling weed.' If the poet has strictly retained in the sonnets the order in which the places lie upon the river-bank, this nook must be within a stone's throw of the pool mentioned in the preceding note, for the scenes of Sonnets XXIX. and XXXI. are close at hand. But, though there are plenty of such 'grottos' or 'arbours' here, some difficulty arises from the fact that the Old Hall and ruined keep cannot be seen from this part of the stream, nor, indeed, can they be seen from Ulpha itself, nor from any part of the high road. The height upon which the ruin stands is certainly a prominent feature in the landscape, but the ruin itself is completely hidden by a shoulder of the hill, neither can the hill by any stretch of the imagination be called a 'cliff.'
The only point of view from which the castle appears to stand upon a 'cliff' is reached by a footpath near some copper works, about half way up Holehouse Ghyll. Here you see the ruin at the end (or rather bend) of the Ghyll high above your head, the sides of the ravine rising steeply to its walls. Holehouse Ghyll is thickly wooded, so that this may very possibly be the poet's 'dim retreat,' the chief objection being that the Ghyll lies below Ulpha Kirk, and that the order of the sonnets would thus be broken.
But wherever the poet's 'nook' may have been, there can be little doubt that the fragment of masonry near the farmhouse called 'The Old Hall,' represents the 'embattled house' of Sonnet XXVII., for Broughton Tower, the only other fortified house in the valley, is still some miles away, and the rising ground upon which it stands is no cliff, but a mere undulation in the centre of the nether valley. Of the Castle at the head of Holehouse Ghyll there is little enough remaining—less, even, than in Wordsworth's day, for a woman living in a cottage close by it assured me that she could remember when there was much more of it standing than at the present time. The cause to which she assigned its rapid disappearance was not, however, the same as that assigned in the first two lines of the sonnet. According to her, natural decay had less to do with it than the destructive hands of the dalesmen, who pulled the stones down to mend the fell-walls with. A native of Ulpha added that a new barn was built for the adjoining farmhouse some little time since, and that a great part of the materials doubtless came from the old ruin.
A ragged piece of wall three to four feet in thickness, with three small square windows splayed inwards, and a fireplace about 6 feet long by 12 feet high, with a wide chimney, is all that now remains in situ, of this seat of the Lords of Ulpha.
As to the ghostly tradition embodied in Sonnet XXVII. Wordsworth himself has explained (see the Fenwick note) that it was borrowed from Rydal Hall. But the 'Old Hall' has a weird tradition of its own, for in the bottom of the Ghyll beneath the Castle walls, there is a pool, called 'The Lady's Dub,' where in old times a lady was killed by one of the numerous wolves which formerly infested the region. This is, in fact, the origin, according to some of the inhabitants, of the name 'Ulpha' ('Wolfa'). But a more likely derivation seems to be from Ulf, the father of Ketell, the father of Bennett, the father of Allan. Ketell lived in Henry III.'s reign, and Bennett in King John's, and to their ancestor Ulf the lordship of 'Ulphay' was granted.[462]
Mr. Chattock has given an excellent etching of the ruin.
If the 'Nook' of Sonnet XXIV. be in Holehouse Ghyll, and the 'embattled House' of Sonnet XXVII. be The Old Hall seen from that spot, then Sonnet XXVI. should specially refer to the stream which rushes down that Ghyll. 'Through tangled woods' well suits this stream; and even the 'sullen reservoirs' are not wanting if the two 'dubs' at the upper end of the Ghyll are taken into account." (Herbert Rix.)
XXVIII
JOURNEY RENEWED
I rose while yet the cattle, heat-opprest,
Crowded together under rustling trees
Brushed by the current of the water-breeze;
And for their sakes, and love of all that rest,
On Duddon's margin, in the sheltering nest;
For all the startled scaly tribes that slink
Into his coverts, and each fearless link
Of dancing insects forged upon his breast;
For these, and hopes and recollections worn
Close to the vital seat of human clay;
Glad meetings, tender partings, that upstay
The drooping mind of absence, by vows sworn
In his pure presence near the trysting thorn—
I thanked the Leader of my onward way.
XXIX
"NO RECORD TELLS OF LANCE OPPOSED TO LANCE"
No record tells of lance opposed to lance,
Horse charging horse, 'mid these retired domains;
Tells that[463] their turf drank purple from the veins
Of heroes, fallen, or struggling to advance,
Till doubtful combat issued in a trance
Of victory, that struck through heart and reins
Even to the inmost seat of mortal pains,
And lightened o'er the pallid countenance.
Yet, to the loyal and the brave, who lie
In the blank earth, neglected and forlorn,
The passing Winds memorial tribute pay;
The Torrents chant their praise, inspiring scorn
Of power usurped; with proclamation high,
And glad acknowledgment, of lawful sway.[GE]
VARIANTS:
[463] 1827.
1820.
Nor that . . .
FOOTNOTE:
[GE] "On the left or east bank of the Duddon, a little higher than Ulpha Bridge, near a farmhouse called New Close is a small enclosure, 44 feet square, with two old fir-trees and a quantity of laurels, which there can be little doubt is the scene of Sonnet XXIX.
The enclosure, known to the country people as the Sepulchre, is an old burial-place of the Society of Friends, none having been interred there since 1755, when a Friend from Birker, a small hamlet about four miles distant, was buried.[464]
The following two lines literally describe the condition of the little burial-ground:—
Yet, to the loyal and the brave, who lie
In the blank earth, neglected and forlorn;—
the earth is 'blank,' because there is not a single tombstone, and the graves are (at any rate at the present time) most literally 'neglected and forlorn,' for the place is a tangle of rank grass and untrimmed bushes.
About the year 1842 it was planted with fruit-trees, but when Wordsworth saw it, it probably presented much the same appearance as at present.
The opening lines—
No record tells of lance opposed to lance, etc.,
and indeed the whole sonnet obtains a new significance from the association of the spot which it describes with the men of peace." (Herbert Rix.)
"There are few more touching scenes in the Duddon Valley than the little lonely hillside burial-place of the early Friends, spoken of in Sonnet XXIX. All round the inside of the rude wall enclosure are still to be seen the stone seats used by the followers of Fox, who were forbidden to hold their meetings under any lower roof than the canopy of Heaven. The Scotch firs have grown into stately shade since the Quakers sat in silent meditation high up, lifted above the life of the valley and the noise of Duddon and the tributary stream just opposite. But though the Friends lie here in unvisited graves, the earth is neither blank nor forlorn. Laurels glisten above their rest, and the Spiræa salicifolia waves its light wands of flower above their sleep, all evidences of care for the heroes of a cause that is not dead yet." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
[464] See Furness and Furness Abbey, by Francis Evans (8vo, Ulverston, 1842), p. 180.
XXX
"WHO SWERVES FROM INNOCENCE, WHO MAKES DIVORCE"
Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorce
Of that serene companion—a good name,
Recovers not his loss; but walks with shame,
With doubt, with fear, and haply with remorse:
And oft-times he—who, yielding to the force
Of chance-temptation, ere his journey end,
From chosen comrade turns, or faithful friend—
In vain shall rue the broken intercourse.
Not so with such as loosely wear the chain
That binds them, pleasant River! to thy side:—
Through the rough copse[GF] wheel thou with hasty stride;
I choose to saunter o'er the grassy plain,
Sure, when the separation has been tried,
That we, who part in love, shall meet again.[GG]
FOOTNOTES:
[GF] "To get from the Sepulchre (Sonnet XXIX.) to Ulpha Kirk (Sonnet XXXI.) it is necessary to pass through Birks Wood, or else to skirt the wood by going up the Fell and round it." (Herbert Rix.)
[GG] Compare the Fenwick note prefixed to these sonnets.—Ed.
XXXI
"THE KIRK OF ULPHA TO THE PILGRIM'S EYE"
The Kirk of Ulpha to the pilgrim's eye
Is welcome as a star, that doth present
Its shining forehead through the peaceful rent
Of a black cloud diffused o'er half the sky:[GH]
Or as a fruitful palm-tree towering high
O'er the parched waste beside an Arab's tent;
Or the Indian tree whose branches, downward bent,
Take root again, a boundless canopy.
How sweet were leisure! could it yield no more
Than 'mid that wave-washed Church-yard to recline,
From pastoral graves extracting thoughts divine;
Or there to pace, and mark the summits hoar
Of distant moon-lit mountains faintly shine,
Soothed by the unseen River's gentle roar.
FOOTNOTE:
[GH] "Ulpha Kirk is situated on a rock, the base of which is washed by the Duddon. From time immemorial its walls have been whitewashed, so that on a sunny day it literally 'shines' from its exalted position. It is best seen from the hay-fields on the left bank just above Ulpha Bridge. These fields lie low, and the church perched on its rock seems lifted higher than from any other point of view.
When I visited Ulpha in the summer of 1882 I found the carpenters at work restoring it, and since then a new belfry has been erected, and the tiny white porch has been replaced by a larger one of wood. But I saw it in 1881, when the interior, as well as the exterior, still kept the appearance which it wore in Wordsworth's day. The pulpit (with sounding-board) was in the middle of one side, and to the right hand thereof were a magnificent lion-and-unicorn, and 'G. III. R.' The font was up against the wall, with a ladder hung above it. There was no vestry; the surplice was kept in a cupboard near the door, and the clergyman donned and doffed it behind a screen which only partially hid him. The pews were square and high, and the people sat all round them, with their backs to all four points of the compass; but when the hymn was sung they all turned with their backs to the altar and their faces to the choir." (Herbert Rix.)
"The last line of this sonnet is a good instance of Wordsworth's very close observation. The little churchyard has lately had an addition made to it. Any one going into the new part of the churchyard will be less able to understand the accuracy of the last line." (H. D. Rawnsley.)
XXXII
"NOT HURLED PRECIPITOUS FROM STEEP TO STEEP"
Not hurled precipitous from steep to steep;
Lingering no more 'mid flower-enamelled lands
And blooming thickets; nor by rocky bands
Held; but in radiant progress toward the Deep
Where mightiest rivers into powerless sleep
Sink, and forget their nature—now expands
Majestic Duddon, over smooth flat sands[GI]
Gliding in silence with unfettered sweep!
Beneath an ampler sky a region wide
Is opened round him:—hamlets, towers, and towns,
And blue-topped hills, behold him from afar;
In stately mien to sovereign Thames allied
Spreading his bosom under Kentish downs,
With commerce freighted, or triumphant war.[GJ]
FOOTNOTES:
[GI] Compare Michael Drayton—
But southward sallying hence, to those sea-bordering Lands,
Where Duddon driving down to the Lancastrian Sands,
This Cumberland cuts out, etc.
Poly-olbion. The thirtieth song.—Ed.
[GJ] "This sonnet was probably written from some rare vantage ground or view as is obtained of the last reaches of the Duddon
In radiant progress toward the Deep,
from the crest of a hill immediately above Broughton.
I am led to think thus from the fact that standing there the poet could speak as he does in Sonnet XXXIV.—
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
while the little Broughton Church with its dark yews close around it seen at his feet would naturally give birth to the thought that 'the elements must vanish,' and that as Duddon hurried to its pauseless sleep, so man to 'the silent tomb must go.'" (H. D. Rawnsley.)
XXXIII
CONCLUSION
But here no cannon thunders to the gale;
Upon the wave no haughty pendants cast
A crimson splendour: lowly is the mast
That rises here, and humbly spread, the sail;
While, less disturbed than in the narrow Vale
Through which with strange vicissitudes he passed,
The Wanderer seeks that receptacle vast
Where all his unambitious functions fail.
And may thy Poet, cloud-born Stream! be free—
The sweets of earth contentedly resigned,
And each tumultuous working left behind
At seemly distance—to advance like Thee;
Prepared, in peace of heart, in calm of mind
And soul, to mingle with Eternity![GK]
FOOTNOTE:
[GK] "This series of sonnets follows with some accuracy the order of the scenes. It is far from exact to speak of them, as Mr. Chattock in his preliminary note has so emphatically done, as 'massed together.' With the doubtful exceptions of the sonnets on the 'Stepping-Stones' and the 'Resting-Place,' each one falls naturally into its order. The Birth-place on Wrynose, the 'sinuous lapse' along the pass, the Descent into the Valley, the Cottage at Cockley Beck, Gowdrel Crag, Wallabarrow and the Pen, Seathwaite Chapel, the Tributary Stream, Long Dub, the Sepulchre at New Close, Ulpha Kirk, Duddon Sands—to all these places there are clear allusions; the sonnets which contain those allusions occur in the order indicated, and this order is the strict topographical succession proceeding from the source of the Duddon to the mouth." (Herbert Rix.)
XXXIV
AFTER-THOUGHT
I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
As being past away.—Vain sympathies!
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;[465][GL]
The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish;—be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.[GM]
VARIANT:
[465] 1820 (1st edition).
1820.
. . . . and shall not cease to glide;
The text of 1840 returns to that of the 2nd edition of 1820.
FOOTNOTES:
[GL] Compare The Fountain (vol. ii. p. 92)—
'Twill murmur on a thousand years,
And flow as now it flows.
And Tennyson's Brook,
Men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
And feel that I am happier than I know.—Milton.[466]
The allusion to the Greek poet will be obvious to the classical reader.—W. W. 1820.
I was indebted to Professor Jebb, in 1883, for the following note:—
"While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
. . . . . . . . .
. . . must vanish, . . .
has been suggested by the well-known lines in the Ἐπιτάφιον Βίωνος, by the pastoral poet Moschus of Syracuse (circ. 200 B.C.):—
αἴ, αἴ, ταὶ μαλάχαι μὲν ἐπὰν κατὰ κᾶπον ὄλωνται,
ἢ τὰ χλωρὰ σέλινα, τό τ' εὐθαλὲς οὖλον ἄνηθον,
ὕστερον αὖ ζώοντι καὶ εἰς ἔτος ἄλλο φύοντι·
ἄμμες δ', οἱ μεγάλοι καὶ καρτεροὶ ἢ σοφοὶ ἄνδρες,
ὁππότε πρᾶτα θάνωμες, ἀνάκοοι ἐν χθονὶ κοίλᾳ
εὕδομες εὖ μάλα μακρὸν ἀτέρμονα νήγρετον ὕπνον.
(Vv. 103-108.)
You will see that Wordsworth has translated the Greek verse which I underline ('brave' representing μεγάλοι). The 'mallows,' 'parsley,' 'anise' of the Greek poet's garden—which are to live again—are represented by Wordsworth's stream which 'shall for ever glide.'
One might contrast the lines in the Christian Year about the autumn leaves:—
How like decaying life they seem to glide!
And yet no second spring have they in store,
But where they fall, forgotten to abide
Is all their portion, and they ask no more."
With this Afterthought compare Virgil, Georgics II. 458, 459—
O fortunatos nimium sua si bona norint
Agricolas, etc.
[466] Paradise Lost, book viii. l. 282.—Ed.