COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SHORE
Composed 1834.—Published 1845
[These lines were suggested during my residence under my son's roof at Moresby, on the coast near Whitehaven, at the time when I was composing those verses among the "Evening Voluntaries" that have reference to the sea. It was in that neighbourhood I first became acquainted with the ocean and its appearances and movements. My infancy and early childhood were passed at Cockermouth, about eight miles from the coast, and I well remember that mysterious awe with which I used to listen to anything said about storms and shipwrecks. Sea-shells of many descriptions were common in the town; and I was not a little surprised when I heard that Mr. Landor[790] had denounced me as a plagiarist from himself for having described a boy applying a sea-shell to his ear and listening to it for intimations of what was going on in its native element. This I had done myself scores of times, and it was a belief among us that we could know from the sound whether the tide was ebbing or flowing.—I.F.]
One of the "Evening Voluntaries."—Ed.
What mischief cleaves to unsubdued regret,
How fancy sickens by vague hopes beset;
How baffled projects on the spirit prey,
And fruitless wishes eat the heart away,
The Sailor knows; he best, whose lot is cast 5
On the relentless sea that holds him fast
On chance dependent, and the fickle star
Of power, through long and melancholy war.
O sad it is, in sight of foreign shores,
Daily to think on old familiar doors, 10
Hearths loved in childhood, and ancestral floors;
Or, tossed about along a waste of foam,
To ruminate on that delightful home,
Which with the dear Betrothèd was to come;
Or came and was and is, yet meets the eye 15
Never but in the world of memory;
Or in a dream recalled, whose smoothest range
Is crossed by knowledge, or by dread, of change,
And if not so, whose perfect joy makes sleep
A thing too bright for breathing man to keep. 20
Hail to the virtues which that perilous life
Extracts from Nature's elemental strife;
And welcome glory won in battles fought
As bravely as the foe was keenly sought.
But to each gallant Captain and his crew 25
A less imperious sympathy is due,
Such as my verse now yields, while moonbeams play
On the mute sea in this unruffled bay;
Such as will promptly flow from every breast,
Where good men, disappointed in the quest 30
Of wealth and power and honours, long for rest;
Or, having known the splendours of success,
Sigh for the obscurities of happiness.
FOOTNOTES:
[790] The passage in Landor's Gebir, book i., is quoted in a note to the fourth book of The Excursion (see vol. v. p. 188).—Ed.
POEMS,[791]
COMPOSED OR SUGGESTED DURING A TOUR, IN THE SUMMER OF 1833
Composed 1833.—Published 1835
Having been prevented by the lateness of the season, in 1831, from visiting Staffa and Iona, the author made these the principal objects of a short tour in the summer of 1833, of which the following series of poems is a Memorial. The course pursued was down the Cumberland river Derwent, and to Whitehaven; thence (by the Isle of Man, where a few days were passed) up the Frith of Clyde to Greenock, then to Oban, Staffa, Iona; and back towards England by Loch Awe, Inverary, Loch Goilhead, Greenock, and through parts of Renfrewshire, Ayrshire, and Dumfries-shire to Carlisle, and thence up the river Eden, and homewards by Ullswater.—W. W.
[My companions were H. C. Robinson and my son John.—I. F.]
FOOTNOTES:
[791] 1845.
The Title in the 1835 edition was Sonnets composed or suggested during a tour in Scotland, in the Summer of 1833.
I
ADIEU, RYDALIAN LAURELS! THAT HAVE GROWN
Adieu, Rydalian Laurels! that have grown
And spread as if ye knew that days might come
When ye would shelter in a happy home,
On this fair Mount, a Poet of your own,
One who ne'er ventured for a Delphic crown 5
To sue the God; but, haunting your green shade[792]
All seasons through, is humbly pleased to braid[793]
Ground-flowers, beneath your guardianship, self-sown.[794]
Farewell! no Minstrels now with harp new-strung
For summer wandering quit their household bowers;
Yet not for this wants Poesy a tongue 11
To cheer the Itinerant on whom she pours
Her spirit, while he crosses lonely moors,
Or musing sits forsaken halls among.
FOOTNOTES:
[792] 1835.
One who to win your emblematic crown
Aspires not, but frequenting your green shade
MS.
Who dares not sue the God for your bright crown
Of deathless leaves, but haunting your green shade
MS.
[793] 1835.
... delights fresh wreaths to braid.
MS.
[794] The yellow flowering poppy and the wild geranium. Compare the poem Poor Robin, March 1840.—Ed.
II
"WHY SHOULD THE ENTHUSIAST, JOURNEYING THROUGH THIS ISLE"
Why should the Enthusiast, journeying through this Isle,
Repine as if his hour were come too late?
Not unprotected in her mouldering state,
Antiquity salutes him with a smile,
'Mid fruitful fields that ring with jocund toil, 5
And pleasure-grounds where Taste, refined Co-mate
Of Truth and Beauty, strives to imitate,
Far as she may, primeval Nature's style.
Fair Land! by Time's parental love made free,
By Social Order's watchful arms embraced; 10
With unexampled union meet in thee,
For eye and mind, the present and the past;
With golden prospect for futurity,
If that be reverenced which ought to last.[795]
FOOTNOTES:
[795] 1845.
If what is rightly reverenced may last. 1835.
III
"THEY CALLED THEE MERRY ENGLAND, IN OLD TIME"
They called Thee Merry England, in old time;
A happy people won for thee that name
With envy heard in many a distant clime;
And, spite of change, for me thou keep'st the same
Endearing title, a responsive chime 5
To the heart's fond belief; though some there are
Whose sterner judgments deem that world a snare
For inattentive Fancy, like the lime
Which foolish birds are caught with. Can, I ask,
This face of rural beauty be a mask 10
For discontent, and poverty, and crime;
These spreading towns a cloak for lawless will?
Forbid it, Heaven!-and[796] Merry England still
Shall[797] be thy rightful name, in prose and rhyme!
FOOTNOTES:
[796] 1837.
... that ... 1835.
[797] 1837.
May.... 1835.
IV
TO THE RIVER GRETA, NEAR KESWICK
Greta, what fearful listening! when huge stones
Rumble along thy bed, block after block:
Or, whirling with reiterated shock,
Combat, while darkness aggravates the groans:
But if thou (like Cocytus from the moans[798] 5
Heard on his rueful margin[799]) thence wert named
The Mourner, thy true nature was defamed,
And the habitual murmur that atones
For thy worst rage, forgotten. Oft as Spring
Decks, on thy sinuous banks, her thousand thrones, 10
Seats of glad instinct and love's carolling,
The concert, for the happy, then may vie
With liveliest peals of birth-day harmony:
To a grieved heart, the notes are benisons.
Compare The Prelude, book i. l. 269 (vol. iii. p. 140):—
"Was it for this
That one, the fairest of all rivers, loved
To blend his murmurs with my nurse's song,
And, from his alder shades and rocky falls,
And from his fords and shallows, sent a voice
That flowed along my dreams?
* * * * *
Make ceaseless music that composed my thoughts
To more than infant softness."
Ed.
FOOTNOTES:
[798] Many years ago, when I was at Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire, the hostess of the inn, proud of her skill in etymology, said, that "the name of the river was taken from the bridge, the form of which, as every one must notice, exactly resembled a great A." Dr. Whitaker has derived it from the word of common occurrence in the North of England, "to greet;" signifying to lament aloud, mostly with weeping: a conjecture rendered more probable from the stony and rocky channel of both the Cumberland and Yorkshire rivers. The Cumberland Greta, though it does not, among the country people, take up that name till within three miles of its disappearance in the River Derwent, may be considered as having its source in the mountain cove of Wythburn, and flowing through Thirlmere, the beautiful features of which lake are known only to those who, travelling between Grasmere and Keswick, have quitted the main road in the vale of Wythburn, and, crossing over to the opposite side of the lake, have proceeded with it on the right hand.
The channel of the Greta, immediately above Keswick, has, for the purposes of building, been in a great measure cleared of the immense stones which, by their concussion in high floods, produced the loud and awful noises described in the sonnet.
"The scenery upon this river," says Mr. Southey in his Colloquies, "where it passes under the woody side of Latrigg, is of the finest and most rememberable kind:—
---- 'ambiguo lapsu refluitque fluitque,
Occurrensque sibi venturas aspicit undas.'"
W. W. 1835.
[799] The Cocytus was a tributary of the Acheron, in Epirus, but was supposed to have some connection with the underworld, doubtless, as Wordsworth puts it,
from the moans
Heard on his rueful margin.
Compare Homer, Odyssey x. 513, and Virgil, Aenid vi. 295.—Ed.
V
TO THE RIVER DERWENT[800]
Among the mountains were we nursed, loved Stream!
Thou near the eagle's nest[801]—within brief sail,
I, of his bold wing floating on the gale,
Where thy deep voice could lull me! Faint the beam
Of human life when first allowed to gleam 5
On mortal notice.—Glory of the vale,
Such thy meek outset, with a crown, though frail,
Kept in perpetual verdure by the steam
Of thy soft breath!—Less vivid wreath entwined
Nemæan victor's brow;[802] less bright was worn, 10
Meed of some Roman chief—in triumph borne
With captives chained; and shedding from his car
The sunset splendours of a finished war
Upon the proud enslavers of mankind!
FOOTNOTES:
[800] This sonnet has already appeared in several editions of the author's poems; but he is tempted to reprint it in this place, as a natural introduction to the two that follow it.—W. W. 1835.
It was first published in 1819.—Ed.
[801] The river Derwent rises in Langstrath valley, Borrowdale, in which is Eagle Crag, so named from its having been the haunt of a bird that is now extinct in Cumberland.—Ed.
[802] The Nemæan games were celebrated every third or fifth year at Nemæa in Argolis. The victor was crowned with a wreath of olive.—Ed.
VI
IN SIGHT OF THE TOWN OF COCKERMOUTH
(Where the Author was born, and his Father's remains are laid.)
A point of life between my Parents' dust,
And yours, my buried Little-ones![803] am I;
And to those graves looking habitually
In kindred quiet I repose my trust.
Death to the innocent is more than just, 5
And, to the sinner, mercifully bent;
So may I hope, if truly I repent
And meekly bear the ills which bear I must:
And You, my Offspring! that do still remain,
Yet may outstrip me in the appointed race, 10
If e'er, through fault of mine, in mutual pain
We breathed together for a moment's space,
The wrong, by love provoked, let love arraign,
And only love keep in your hearts a place.
FOOTNOTES:
[803] His children, Catherine and Thomas, who died in infancy at the Parsonage, Grasmere, and were buried in Grasmere Churchyard.—Ed.
VII
ADDRESS FROM THE SPIRIT OF COCKERMOUTH CASTLE
"Thou look'st upon me, and dost fondly think,
Poet! that, stricken as both are by years,
We, differing once so much, are now Compeers,
Prepared, when each has stood his time, to sink
Into the dust. Erewhile a sterner link 5
United us; when thou, in boyish play,
Entering my dungeon, didst become a prey
To soul-appalling darkness. Not a blink
Of light was there;—and thus did I, thy Tutor,
Make thy young thoughts acquainted with the grave;
While thou wert chasing the wing'd butterfly 11
Through my green courts;[804] or climbing, a bold suitor
Up to the flowers whose golden progeny
Still round my shattered brow in beauty wave."[805]
FOOTNOTES:
[804] Compare To a Butterfly (1802), vol. ii. p. 284—
Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
Ed.
[805] Compare The Prelude, book i. ll. 283-85—
The shadow of those towers
That yet survive, a shattered monument
Of feudal sway.
Compare also the sonnet At Furness Abbey, written in 1844.—Ed.
VIII
NUN'S WELL, BRIGHAM
[So named from the religious House that stood close by. I have rather an odd anecdote to relate of the Nun's Well. One day the landlady of a public-house, a field's length from the well, on the roadside, said to me—"You have been to see the Nun's Well, Sir?" "The Nun's Well! what is that?" said the Postman, who in his royal livery stopt his mail-car at the door. The landlady and I explained to him what the name meant, and what sort of people the nuns were. A countryman who was standing by, rather tipsy, stammered out—"Aye, those nuns were good people; they are gone; but we shall soon have them back again." The Reform mania was just then at its height.—I.F.]
The cattle crowding round this beverage clear
To slake their thirst, with reckless hoofs have trod
The encircling turf into a barren clod;
Through which the waters creep, then disappear,
Born to be lost in Derwent flowing near; 5
Yet, o'er the brink, and round the lime-stone cell
Of the pure spring (they call it the "Nun's Well,"
Name that first struck by chance my startled ear)
A tender Spirit broods—the pensive Shade
Of ritual honours to this Fountain paid 10
By hooded Votaresses[806] with saintly cheer;[807]
Albeit oft the Virgin-mother mild
Looked down with pity upon eyes beguiled
Into the shedding of "too soft a tear."[808]
FOOTNOTES:
[806] 1837.
... Votaries ... 1835.
[807] Attached to the church of Brigham was formerly a chantry, which held a moiety of the manor; and in the decayed parsonage some vestiges of monastic architecture are still to be seen.—W. W. 1835.
[808] See Pope's Eloïsa to Abelard, l. 224.—Ed.
IX
TO A FRIEND[809]
(ON THE BANKS OF THE DERWENT)
[My son John, who was then building a parsonage on his small living at Brigham.—I.F.]
Pastor and Patriot!—at whose bidding rise
These modest walls, amid a flock that need,
For one who comes to watch them and to feed,
A fixed Abode—keep down presageful sighs.[810]
Threats, which the unthinking only can despise, 5
Perplex the Church; but be thou firm,—be true
To thy first hope, and this good work pursue,
Poor as thou art. A welcome sacrifice
Dost Thou prepare, whose sign will be the smoke[811]
Of thy new hearth; and sooner shall its wreaths, 10
Mounting while earth her morning incense breathes,
From wandering fiends of air receive a yoke,
And straightway cease to aspire, than God disdain
This humble tribute as ill-timed or vain.
FOOTNOTES:
[809] John Wordsworth, the poet's son, the subject of this sonnet, was incumbent of Moresby, near Whitehaven, before he went to Brigham. See the Fenwick note to the lines, Composed by the Sea-shore, p. [340]. In 1833 Wordsworth wrote to Lady Beaumont:—
"Were you ever told that my son is building a parsonage-house upon a small living, to which he was lately presented by the Earl of Lonsdale. The situation is beautiful, commanding the windings of the Derwent both above and below the site of the house; the mountain Skiddaw terminating the view one way, at a distance of six miles, and the ruins of Cockermouth Castle appearing nearly in the centre of the same view. In consequence of some discouraging thoughts expressed by my son when he had entered upon this undertaking, I addressed to him the following Sonnet, which you may perhaps read with some interest at the present crisis."—Ed.
[810] 1835.
... foreboding sighs.
MS. Letter to Lady Beaumont.
[811] 1835.
To Him who dwells in Heaven will be the smoke
MS. Letter to Lady Beaumont.
X
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS
(LANDING AT THE MOUTH OF THE DERWENT, WORKINGTON)[812]
[I will mention for the sake of the friend who is writing down these notes, that it was among the fine Scotch firs near Ambleside, and particularly those near Green Bank, that I have over and over again paused at the sight of this image. Long may they stand to afford a like gratification to others!—This wish is not uncalled for, several of their brethren having already disappeared.—I. F.]
Dear to the Loves, and to the Graces vowed,
The Queen drew back the wimple that she wore;
And to the throng, that on the Cumbrian shore
Her landing hailed, how touchingly she bowed![813]
And like a Star (that, from a heavy cloud[814] 5
Of pine-tree foliage poised in air, forth darts,[815]
When a soft summer gale at evening parts
The gloom that did its loveliness enshroud)
She smiled;[816] but Time, the old Saturnian seer,
Sighed on the wing as her foot pressed the strand, 10
With step prelusive to a long array
Of woes and degradations hand in hand—
Weeping captivity, and shuddering fear
Stilled by the ensanguined block of Fotheringay![817]
FOOTNOTES:
[812] "The fears and impatience of Mary were so great," says Robertson, "that she got into a fisher-boat, and with about twenty attendants landed at Workington, in Cumberland; and thence she was conducted with many marks of respect to Carlisle." The apartment in which the Queen had slept at Workington Hall (where she was received by Sir Henry Curwen as became her rank and misfortunes) was long preserved, out of respect to her memory, as she had left it; and one cannot but regret that some necessary alterations in the mansion could not be effected without its destruction.—W. W. 1835.
[813] 1837.
And to the throng how touchingly she bowed
That hailed her landing on the Cumbrian shore; 1835.
[814] 1840.
Bright as a star (that, from a sombre cloud 1835.
[815] 1835.
High poised in air of pine-tree foliage, darts, ms.
[816] Compare The Triad, ll. 189, 190 (p. [188])—
So gleams the crescent moon, that loves
To be descried through shady groves.—Ed.
[817] 1835.
Thenceforth he saw a long and long array
Of miserable seasons hand in hand—
Weeping, captivity, and pallid fear,
And last, the ensanguined block of Fotheringay.
MS.
XI
STANZAS SUGGESTED IN A STEAM-BOAT OFF SAINT BEES' HEADS, ON THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND[818]
If Life were slumber on a bed of down,
Toil unimposed, vicissitude unknown,
Sad were our lot: no hunter of the hare
Exults like him whose javelin from the lair
Has roused the lion; no one plucks the rose, 5
Whose proffered beauty in safe shelter blows
'Mid a trim garden's summer luxuries,
With joy like his who climbs, on hands and knees,
For some rare plant, yon Headland of St. Bees.
This independence upon oar and sail, 10
This new indifference to breeze or gale,
This straight-lined progress, furrowing a flat lea,
And regular as if locked in certainty—
Depress the hours. Up, Spirit of the storm!
That Courage may find something to perform; 15
That Fortitude, whose blood disdains to freeze
At Danger's bidding, may confront the seas,
Firm as the towering Headlands of St. Bees.
Dread cliff of Baruth! that wild wish may sleep,
Bold as if men and creatures of the Deep 20
Breathed the same element; too many wrecks
Have struck thy sides, too many ghastly decks
Hast thou looked down upon, that such a thought
Should here be welcome, and in verse enwrought:
With thy stern aspect better far agrees 25
Utterance of thanks that we have past with ease,
As millions thus shall do, the Headlands of St. Bees.
Yet, while each useful Art augments her store,
What boots the gain if Nature should lose more?
And Wisdom, as she holds[819] a Christian place 30
In man's intelligence sublimed by grace?
When Bega sought of yore the Cumbrian coast,[820]
Tempestuous winds her holy errand cross'd:
She[821] knelt in prayer—the waves their wrath appease;
And, from her vow well weighed in Heaven's decrees,
Rose, where she touched the strand, the Chantry of St. Bees. 36
"Cruel of heart were they, bloody of hand,"
Who in these Wilds then struggled for command;[822]
The strong were merciless, without hope the weak;
Till this bright Stranger came, fair as day-break, 40
And as a cresset true that darts its length
Of beamy lustre from a tower of strength;
Guiding the mariner through troubled seas,
And cheering oft his peaceful reveries,
Like the fixed Light that crowns yon Headland of St. Bees. 45
To aid the Votaress, miracles believed
Wrought in men's minds, like miracles achieved;
So piety took root; and Song might tell
What humanising virtues near her cell[823]
Sprang up, and spread their fragrance wide around;
How savage bosoms melted at the sound 51
Of gospel-truth enchained in harmonies
Wafted o'er waves, or creeping through close trees,
From her religious Mansion of St. Bees.
When her sweet Voice, that instrument of love, 55
Was glorified, and took its place, above
The silent stars, among the angelic quire,
Her chantry blazed with sacrilegious fire,
And perished utterly; but her good deeds
Had sown the spot, that witnessed them, with seeds 60
Which lay in earth expectant, till a breeze
With quickening impulse answered their mute pleas,
And lo! a statelier pile, the Abbey of St. Bees.[824]
There are[825] the naked clothed, the hungry fed;
And Charity extendeth[826] to the dead, 65
Her intercessions made for the soul's rest
Of tardy penitents; or for the best
Among the good (when love might else have slept,
Sickened, or died) in pious memory kept.
Thanks to the austere and simple Devotees, 70
Who, to that service bound by venial fees,
Keep watch before the altars of St. Bees.
Are[827] not, in sooth, their Requiems sacred ties[828]
Woven out of passion's sharpest agonies,
Subdued, composed, and formalized by art, 75
To fix a wiser sorrow in the heart?
The prayer for them whose hour is past away
Says[829] to the Living, profit while ye may!
A little part, and that the worst, he sees
Who thinks that priestly cunning holds the keys 80
That best unlock the secrets of St. Bees.
Conscience, the timid being's inmost light,
Hope of the dawn and solace of the night,
Cheers these Recluses with a steady ray
In many an hour when judgment goes astray. 85
Ah! scorn not hastily their rule who try
Earth to despise, and flesh to mortify;
Consume with zeal, in wingèd ecstasies
Of prayer and praise forget their rosaries,
Nor hear the loudest surges of St. Bees. 90
Yet none so prompt to succour and protect
The forlorn traveller, or sailor wrecked
On the bare coast; nor do they grudge the boon
Which staff and cockle hat and sandal shoon
Claim for the pilgrim: and, though chidings sharp 95
May sometimes greet the strolling minstrel's harp,
It is not then when, swept with sportive ease,
It charms a feast-day throng of all degrees,
Brightening the archway of revered St. Bees.
How did the cliffs and echoing hills rejoice 100
What time the Benedictine Brethren's voice,
Imploring, or commanding with meet pride,
Summoned the Chiefs to lay their feuds aside,
And under one blest ensign serve the Lord
In Palestine. Advance, indignant Sword! 105
Flaming till thou from Panym hands release
That Tomb, dread centre of all sanctities
Nursed in the quiet Abbey of St. Bees.
But look we now to them whose minds from far[830]
Follow the fortunes which they may not share. 110
While in Judea Fancy loves to roam,
She helps to make a Holy-land at home:
The Star of Bethlehem from its sphere invites
To sound the crystal depth of maiden rights;[831]
And wedded Life, through scriptural mysteries, 115
Heavenward ascends with all her charities,
Taught by the hooded Celibates of St. Bees.
Nor be it e'er forgotten how by skill
Of cloistered Architects, free their souls to fill
With love of God, throughout the Land were raised 120
Churches, on whose symbolic beauty gazed
Peasant and mail-clad Chief with pious awe;
As at this day men seeing what they saw,
Or the bare wreck of faith's solemnities,
Aspire to more than earthly destinies; 125
Witness yon Pile that greets us from St. Bees.[832]
Yet more; around those Churches, gathered Towns[833]
Safe from the feudal Castle's haughty frowns;
Peaceful abodes, where Justice might uphold
Her scales with even hand, and culture mould 130
The heart to pity, train the mind in care
For rules of life, sound as the Time could bear.
Nor dost thou fail, thro' abject love of ease,
Or hindrance raised by sordid purposes,
To bear thy part in this good work, St. Bees.[834] 135
Who with the ploughshare clove the barren moors,
And to green meadows changed the swampy shores?
Thinned the rank woods; and for the cheerful grange
Made room where wolf and boar were used to range?
Who taught, and showed by deeds, that gentler chains 140
Should bind the vassal to his lord's domains?
The thoughtful Monks, intent their God to please,
For Christ's dear sake, by human sympathies
Poured from the bosom of thy Church, St. Bees!
But all availed not; by a mandate given 145
Through lawless will the Brotherhood was driven
Forth from their cells; their ancient House laid low
In Reformation's sweeping overthrow.
But now once more the local Heart revives,
The inextinguishable Spirit strives. 150
Oh may that Power who hushed the stormy seas,
And cleared a way for the first Votaries,
Prosper the new-born College of St. Bees![835]
Alas! the Genius of our age, from Schools
Less humble, draws her lessons, aims, and rules. 153
To Prowess guided by her insight keen
Matter and Spirit are as one Machine;
Boastful Idolatress of formal skill
She in her own would merge the eternal will:[836]
Better,[837] if Reason's triumphs match with these, 160
Her flight before the bold credulities
That furthered the first teaching of St. Bees.[838]
FOOTNOTES:
[818] St. Bees' Heads, anciently called the Cliff of Baruth, are a conspicuous sea-mark for all vessels sailing in the N.E. parts of the Irish Sea. In a bay, one side of which is formed by the southern headland, stands the village of St. Bees; a place distinguished, from very early times, for its religious and scholastic foundations.
"St. Bees," say Nicholson and Burns, "had its name from Bega, an holy woman from Ireland, who is said to have founded here, about the year of our Lord 650, a small monastery, where afterwards a church was built in memory of her.
"The aforesaid religious house, being destroyed by the Danes, was restored by William de Meschiens, son of Ranulph, and brother of Ranulph de Meschiens, first Earl of Cumberland after the Conquest; and made a cell of a prior and six Benedictine monks to the Abbey of St. Mary at York."
Several traditions of miracles, connected with the foundation of the first of these religious houses, survive among the people of the neighbourhood; one of which is alluded to in these Stanzas; and another, of a somewhat bolder and more peculiar character, has furnished the subject of a spirited poem by the Rev. R. Parkinson, M.A., late Divinity Lecturer of St. Bees' College, and now Fellow of the Collegiate Church of Manchester.
After the dissolution of the monasteries, Archbishop Grindal founded a free school at St. Bees, from which the counties of Cumberland and Westmoreland have derived great benefit; and recently, under the patronage of the Earl of Lonsdale, a college has been established there for the education of ministers for the English Church. The old Conventual Church has been repaired under the superintendence of the Rev. Dr. Ainger, the Head of the College; and is well worthy of being visited by any strangers who might be led to the neighbourhood of this celebrated spot.
The form of stanza in this Poem, and something in the style of versification, are adopted from the St. Monica, a poem of much beauty upon a monastic subject, by Charlotte Smith: a lady to whom English verse is under greater obligations than are likely to be either acknowledged or remembered. She wrote little, and that little unambitiously, but with true feeling for rural nature,[839] at a time when nature was not much regarded by English Poets; for in point of time her earlier writings preceded, I believe, those of Cowper and Burns.[840]—W. W. 1835.
[819] 1845.
And Wisdom, that once held ... 1835.
[820] See the note, p. [351].—Ed.
[821] 1837.
... cross'd;
As high and higher heaved the billows, faith
Grew with them, mightier than the powers of death.
She ... 1835.
[822] The Danes, and the Cymric aborigines.—Ed.
[823] 1837.
... round her Cell 1835.
[824] See the extract from Nicholson and Burn's History of Cumberland, in Wordsworth's note, p. [351].—Ed.
[825] 1837.
There were ... 1835.
[826] 1837.
... extended ... 1835.
[827] 1837.
Were ... 1835.
[828] I am aware that I am here treading upon tender ground; but to the intelligent reader I feel that[841] no apology is due. The prayers of survivors, during passionate grief for the recent loss of relatives and friends, as the object of those prayers could no longer be the suffering body of the dying, would naturally be ejaculated for the souls of the departed; the barriers between the two worlds dissolving before the power of love and faith. The ministers of religion, from their habitual attendance upon sick-beds, would be daily witnesses of these benign results; and hence would be strongly tempted to aim at giving to them permanence, by embodying them in rites and ceremonies, recurring at stated periods. All this, as it was in course of nature, so was it blameless, and even praiseworthy; since some of its effects, in that rude state of society, could not but be salutary. No reflecting person, however, can view[842] without sorrow the abuses which rose out of thus formalizing sublime instincts, and disinterested movements of passion, and perverting them into means of gratifying the ambition and rapacity of the priesthood. But, while we deplore and are indignant at these abuses, it would be a great mistake if we imputed the origin of the offices to prospective selfishness on the part of the monks and clergy: they were at first sincere in their sympathy, and in their degree dupes rather of their own creed, than artful and designing men. Charity is, upon the whole, the safest guide that we can take in judging our fellow-men, whether of past ages, or of the present time.—W. W. 1835.
[829] 1837.
... was past away
Said ... 1835.
[830] 1837.
On, Champions, on!—But mark! the passing Day
Submits her intercourse to milder sway,
With high and low whose busy thoughts from far 1835.
[831] Compare The Virgin, in the "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," Part II. xxv.—Ed.
[832] 1845.
As through the land we seeing what they saw,
Or the bare wreck of faith's solemnities,
May lift {the} hearts {to} blissful destinies;
{our} {for}
{Witness the remnant of thy Church, St. Bees.
{Witness your works, good cœnobites of St. Bees. C.
(or)
As on this day we seeing what they saw,
Uplift our hearts for heavenly destinies
In field or town, 'mid mountain fastnesses,
Or on wave-beaten shores like thine, St. Bees. C.
[833] See "The English Town" in Green's Short History of the English People, ch. iv. sec. 4.—Ed.
[834] This stanza and the preceding one were added in 1845.—Ed.
[835] This College was founded for the education of clerks in holy orders who did not mean to proceed to Oxford or Cambridge.—Ed.
[836] 1835.
... our age, her rules
From schools that scorning faith in things unseen,
Most confident when most they overween,
Would merge, idolaters of formal skill
In their own system God's eternal will. C.
... aims and rules
Would merge, Idolaters of formal skill
In her own system God's eternal will. C.
[837] 1837.
... will:
Expert to move in paths that Newton trod,
From Newton's Universe would banish God.
Better, ... 1835.
[838] See The Excursion, seventh part; and "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," second part, near the beginning.—W. W. 1850.
The passages referred to are the following: The Excursion, book vii. l. 1008, etc. (vol. v. p. 324), beginning—
The courteous Knight,
and alluding to Sir Alfred Irthing; and in the "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," Part II. iii., iv., v., Cistercian Monastery, and Monks and Schoolmen.—Ed.
[839] 1837.
but with true feeling for nature. 1835.
[840] From "at a time" to "Burns" was added in 1837.
[841] 1845.
The Author is aware that he is here ... reader he feels that 1835.
[842] 1837.
praiseworthy; but no reflecting person can view 1835.
XII
IN THE CHANNEL, BETWEEN THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND AND THE ISLE OF MAN
Ranging the heights of Scawfell or Black-Comb,[843]
In his lone course the Shepherd oft will pause,
And strive to fathom the mysterious laws
By which the clouds, arrayed in light or gloom,
On Mona settle, and the shapes assume 5
Of all her peaks and ridges.[844] What he draws
From sense, faith, reason, fancy, of the cause,
He will take with him to the silent tomb.
Or, by his fire, a child upon his knee,
Haply the untaught Philosopher may speak 10
Of the strange sight, nor hide his theory
That satisfies the simple and the meek,
Blest in their pious ignorance, though weak
To cope with Sages undevoutly free.
FOOTNOTES:
[843] 1837.
... Black-coom, 1835.
[844] Compare the View from the top of Black Comb (vol. iv. p. 279); also the Inscription, Written with a Slate Pencil on a Stone, on the Side of the Mountain of Black Comb (vol. iv. p. 281).
The atmospheric phenomena referred to in the sonnet are frequently seen from the Cumberland hills, overspreading the peaks and ridges of the Isle of Man; and a similar appearance is often visible on the Cumbrian hills, as seen from Mona.—Ed.
XIII
AT SEA OFF THE ISLE OF MAN
Bold words affirmed, in days when faith was strong
And doubts and scruples seldom teazed the brain,
That[845] no adventurer's bark had power to gain
These shores if he approached them bent on wrong;
For, suddenly up-conjured from the Main, 5
Mists rose to hide the Land—that search, though long
And eager, might be still pursued in vain.
O Fancy, what an age was that for song!
That age, when not by laws inanimate,
As men believed, the waters were impelled, 10
The air controlled, the stars their courses held;
But element and orb on acts did wait
Of Powers endued with visible form, instinct
With will, and to their work by passion linked.
FOOTNOTES:
[845] 1837.
... strong,
That ... 1835.
XIV
"DESIRE WE PAST ILLUSIONS TO RECAL"
Desire we past illusions to recal?
To reinstate wild Fancy, would we hide
Truth whose thick veil Science has drawn aside?
No,—let this Age, high as she may, instal
In her esteem the thirst that wrought man's fall, 5
The universe is infinitely wide;
And conquering Reason, if self-glorified,
Can nowhere move uncrossed by some new wall
Or gulf of mystery, which thou alone,
Imaginative Faith! canst overleap, 10
In progress toward the fount of Love,—the throne
Of Power whose ministers the[846] records keep
Of periods fixed, and laws established, less
Flesh to exalt than prove its nothingness.
FOOTNOTES:
[846] 1837.
Of Power, whose ministering Spirits ... 1835.
XV
ON ENTERING DOUGLAS BAY, ISLE OF MAN
"Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori."[847]
The feudal Keep, the bastions of Cohorn,[848]
Even when they rose to check or to repel
Tides of aggressive war, oft served as well
Greedy ambition, armed to treat with scorn
Just limits; but yon Tower, whose smiles adorn 5
This perilous bay, stands clear of all offence;
Blest work it is of love and innocence,
A Tower of refuge built for the else forlorn.[849]
Spare it, ye waves, and lift the mariner,
Struggling for life, into its saving arms! 10
Spare, too, the human helpers! Do they stir
'Mid your fierce shock like men afraid to die?
No; their dread service nerves the heart it warms,
And they are led by noble Hillary.[850]
FOOTNOTES:
[847] See Horace, Odes, book iv. ode viii. l. 28.—Ed.
[848] Baron Menno van Cohorn (or Cœhoorn) was a Dutch military engineer of genius (1641-1704). His fame rests on discoveries connected with the effect of projectiles on fortifications. His practical successes against the French, under Vauban, were great; and the fortifications he designed and constructed, of which that of Bergen-op-Zoom was the chief, give him a place in the history of military science, greater than that derived from his writings. He devised a kind of small mortar or howitzer, for use in siege operations, which is named after him a Cohorn.—Ed.
[849] 1845.
A Tower of refuge to the else forlorn. 1835.
A Tower of refuge built for the forlorn. C.
[850] The Tower of Refuge, an ornament to Douglas Bay, was erected chiefly through the humanity and zeal of Sir William Hillary; and he also was the founder of the lifeboat establishment, at that place; by which, under his superintendence, and often by his exertions at the imminent hazard of his own life, many seamen and passengers have been saved.—W. W. 1835.
In Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal of a visit to the Isle of Man in 1826, the following occurs:—"Monday, 3rd July.—Sir William Hillary saved a boy's life to-day in harbour. He raised a regiment for government, and chose his own reward, viz., a Baronetcy! and now lives here on £300 per annum, etc. etc."—Ed.
XVI
BY THE SEA-SHORE, ISLE OF MAN
Why stand we gazing on the sparkling Brine,
With wonder smit by its transparency,
And all-enraptured with its purity?—
Because the unstained, the clear, the crystalline,
Have ever in them something of benign; 5
Whether in gem, in water, or in sky,
A sleeping infant's brow, or wakeful eye
Of a young maiden, only not divine.
Scarcely the hand forbears to dip its palm
For beverage drawn as from a mountain-well. 10
Temptation centres in the liquid Calm;
Our daily raiment seems no obstacle
To instantaneous plunging in, deep Sea!
And revelling[851] in long embrace with thee.[852]
FOOTNOTES:
[851] 1835.
And wantoning ...
MS.
[852] The sea-water on the coast of the Isle of Man is singularly pure and beautiful.—W. W. 1837.
XVII
ISLE OF MAN
[My son William[853] is here the person alluded to as saving the life of the youth, and the circumstances were as mentioned in the Sonnet.—I. F.]
A youth too certain of his power to wade
On the smooth bottom of this clear bright sea,[854]
To sight so shallow, with a bather's glee,
Leapt from this rock, and but for timely aid
He, by the alluring element betrayed, 5
Had perished. Then might Sea-nymphs (and with sighs
Of self-reproach) have chanted elegies[855]
Bewailing his sad fate, when he was laid[856]
In peaceful earth: for, doubtless, he was frank,
Utterly in himself devoid of guile; 10
Knew not the double-dealing of a smile;
Nor aught that makes men's promises a blank,
Or deadly snare: and He survives to bless
The Power that saved him in his strange distress.
FOOTNOTES:
[853] But it was his son John, and not William, who accompanied the poet in this Tour. See the first Fenwick note (p. [342]).—Ed.
[854] 1835.
... that his feet could wade
At will the flow of this pellucid sea,
MS.
On the smooth bottom of this clear blue sea,
MS.
[855] Compare Ariel's Song in The Tempest, act I. scene ii.—
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell.—Ed.
[856] 1837.
Leapt from this rock, and surely, had not aid
Been near, must soon have breathed out life, betrayed
By fondly trusting to an element
Fair, and to others more than innocent;
Then had sea-nymphs sung dirges for him laid 1835.
Here ...
MS.
XVIII
ISLE OF MAN[857]
Did[858] pangs of grief for lenient time too keen,
Grief that devouring waves had caused—or guilt[859]
Which they had witnessed, sway[860] the man who built
This Homestead, placed where nothing could be seen,
Nought heard, of ocean troubled or serene? 5
A tired Ship-soldier[861] on paternal land,
That o'er the channel holds august command,
The dwelling raised,—a veteran Marine![862]
He, in disgust, turned from the neighbouring sea[863]
To shun the memory of a listless life 10
That hung between two callings. May no strife
More hurtful here beset him, doomed though free,
Self-doomed, to worse inaction, till his eye
Shrink from the daily sight of earth and sky!
FOOTNOTES:
[857] 1837.
The Retired Marine Officer, Isle of Man. 1835.
[858] 1837.
Not ... 1835.
[859] 1837.
... nor guilt 1835.
[860] 1837.
... swayed ... 1835.
[861] 1835.
No—a Ship-soldier ... 1837.
[862] Henry Hutchinson. See the Fenwick note to the next sonnet.—Ed.
[863] 1835.
The dwelling raised. Fantastic slave of spleen
He sought by shunning thus the neighbouring sea,
Refuge from memory of a listless life C.
The habitation raised, a slave of spleen, C.
The weary man turned from the neighbouring sea
MS.
XIX
BY A RETIRED MARINER[864]
(A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR)
[Mrs. Wordsworth's Brother, Henry.[865]—I. F.]
From early youth I ploughed the restless Main,
My mind as restless and as apt to change;
Through every clime and ocean did I range,
In hope at length a competence to gain;
For poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain. 5
Year after year I strove, but strove in vain,
And hardships manifold did I endure,
For Fortune on me never deign'd to smile;
Yet I at last a resting-place have found,
With just enough life's comforts to procure, 10
In a snug Cove on this our favoured Isle,
A peaceful spot where Nature's gifts abound;
Then sure I have no reason to complain,
Though poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain.
FOOTNOTES:
[864] This unpretending Sonnet is by a gentleman nearly connected with me, and I hope, as it falls so easily into its place, that both the writer and the reader will excuse its appearance here.—W. W. 1835.
[865] Mr. Henry Hutchinson, Mrs. Wordsworth's brother, was—the Bishop of Lincoln tells us—"a person of great originality and vigour of mind, a very enterprising sailor, and a writer of verses distinguished by no ordinary merit."—See the Memoirs of Wordsworth, vol. ii. p. 246.—Ed.
XX
AT BALA-SALA, ISLE OF MAN
(SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY A FRIEND)
[Supposed to be written by a friend (Mr. Cookson), who died there a few years after.[866]—I. F.]
Broken in fortune, but in mind entire
And sound in principle, I seek repose
Where ancient trees this convent-pile enclose,[867]
In ruin beautiful. When vain desire
Intrudes on peace, I pray the eternal Sire 5
To cast a soul-subduing shade on me,
A grey-haired, pensive, thankful Refugee;
A shade—but with some sparks of heavenly fire
Once to these cells vouchsafed.[868] And when I note
The old Tower's brow yellowed as with the beams 10
Of sunset ever there,[869] albeit streams[870]
Of stormy weather-stains that semblance wrought,
I thank the silent Monitor, and say
"Shine so, my aged brow, at all hours of the day!"
FOOTNOTES:
[866] Henry Crabb Robinson—the Wordsworths' companion in the tour, wrote in his Journal, 14th July: "At Ballasalla called on Mr. and Mrs. Cookson, esteemed friends of the W.'s, whom adversity had driven to this asylum."—Ed.
[867] Rushen Abbey.—W. W. 1835.
[868] 1835.
... with such sparks of holy fire
As once were cherished here....
MS.
[869] The "old Tower" is that of Rushen Abbey, close to Bala-Sala, the latest dissolved monastery in the British Isles. Little of it survives; only the tower, refectory, and dormitory. The tower is still yellowed with lichen stains. The following occurs in one of Mr. H. C. Robinson's letters on the Italian Tour of 1837:—"This reminds me that I was once privy to the conception of a Sonnet with a distinctness which did not once occur on the longer Italian journey. This was when I accompanied him into the Isle of Man. We had been drinking tea with Mr. and Mrs. Cookson, and left them when the weather was dull. Very soon after leaving them we passed the Church Tower of Bala-Sala. The upper part of the tower had a sort of frieze of yellow lichens. Mr. W. Pointed it out to me, and said, 'It's a Perpetual sunshine.' I thought no more of it till I had read the beautiful sonnet,
'Broken in fortune, but in mind entire.'"—Ed.
[870] 1835.
.... and know that streams
MS.
XXI
TYNWALD HILL
[Mr. Robinson and I walked the greater part of the way from Castle-town to Piel, and stopped some time at Tynwald Hill. One of my companions was an elderly man who, in a muddy way (for he was tipsy), explained and answered, as far as he could, my enquiries about this place and the ceremonies held here. I found more agreeable company in some little children; one of them, upon my request, recited the Lord's Prayer to me, and I helped her to a clearer understanding of it as well as I could; but I was not at all satisfied with my own part; hers was much better done, and I am persuaded that, like other children, she knew more about it than she was able to express, especially to a stranger.—I. F.]
Once on the top of Tynwald's formal mound
(Still marked with green turf circles narrowing[871]
Stage above stage)[872] would sit this Island's King,
The laws to promulgate, enrobed and crowned;
While, compassing the little mount around,[873] 5
Degrees and Orders stood, each under each:
Now, like to things within fate's easiest reach,[874]
The power is merged, the pomp a grave has found.
Off with yon cloud,[875] old Snafell![876] that thine eye
Over three Realms may take its widest range; 10
And let, for them, thy fountains utter strange
Voices, thy winds break forth in prophecy,
If the whole State must suffer mortal change,
Like Mona's miniature of sovereignty.
FOOTNOTES:
[871] The ground at Tynwald Hill (as it is called) remains unchanged. Here, on a small plot of ground, the whole Manx people meet annually on Midsummer Day, July 5th, to appoint officers and enact new laws. The first historical notice of these meetings is in 1417. The name Tynwald is derived from the Scandinavian thing, "court of justice," and wald, "fenced." The mound is only 12 feet high, rising by four circular platforms, each 3 feet higher than the one below it. The circumference at the base is 240 feet, and at the top 18 feet. It used once to be walled round, and had two gates. The approach now is by twenty-one steps cut in the turf.
In his Diary, etc., Robinson wrote of Tynwald—"It brought to my mind a similar monument of simple manners at Sarnen in Switzerland."—Ed.
[872] 1835.
Once on the top of Tynwald Hill (a Mound
MS.
Time was when on the top of yon small mound
(Still marked with circles duly narrowing
Each above each) ...
MS.
[873] 1835.
Would sit by solemn usage robed and crowned,
While compassing the grassy mount around,
MS.
Sate 'mid the assembled people robed and crowned,
MS.
[874] 1835.
Now like a thing within Fate's easiest reach,
MS.
[875] 1835.
Off with those clouds, ...
MS.
[876] The summit of this mountain is well chosen by Cowley as the scene of the "Vision," in which the spectral angel discourses with him concerning the government of Oliver Cromwell. "I found myself," says he, "on the top of that famous hill in the Island Mona, which has the prospect of three great, and not long since most happy, kingdoms. As soon as ever I looked upon them, they called forth the sad representation of all the sins and all the miseries that had overwhelmed them these twenty years." It is not to be denied that the changes now in progress, and the passions, and the way in which they work, strikingly resemble those which led to the disasters the philosophic writer so feelingly bewails. God grant that the resemblance may not become still more striking as months and years advance!—W. W. 1835.
The top of Snaefell (which Wordsworth names "Snafell"), the highest mountain in the Isle of Man, whence England, Scotland, and Ireland are to be seen, as mentioned in the Sonnet, is not visible from Tynwald Hill.—Ed.
XXII
"DESPOND WHO WILL—I HEARD A VOICE EXCLAIM"
Despond who will—I heard a voice exclaim,
"Though fierce the assault, and shatter'd the defence,[877]
It cannot be that Britain's social frame,
The glorious work of time and providence,
Before a flying season's rash pretence,[878] 5
Should fall; that She, whose virtue put to shame,
When Europe prostrate lay, the Conqueror's aim,
Should perish, self-subverted. Black and dense
The cloud is; but brings that a day of doom
To Liberty? Her sun is up the while,[879] 10
That orb whose beams round Saxon Alfred shone:
Then laugh, ye innocent Vales! ye Streams, sweep on,
Nor let one billow of our heaven-blest Isle[880]
Toss in the fanning wind a humbler plume."
FOOTNOTES:
[877] 1835.
Clear voices from pure worlds of hope exclaim
"Tho' fierce the assault, and shattered the defence,"
MS.
[878] 1835.
Before a season's calculating sense,
MS.
[879] 1835.
... The sun is up ...
MS.
[880] 1835.
... of this heaven-blest Isle
MS.
XXIII
IN THE FRITH OF CLYDE, AILSA CRAG[881]
DURING AN ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, JULY 17
[The morning of the eclipse was exquisitely beautiful while we passed the Crag as described in the Sonnet. On the deck of the steam-boat were several persons of the poor and labouring class, and I could not but be struck by their cheerful talk with each other, while not one of them seemed to notice the magnificent objects with which we were surrounded; and even the phenomenon of the eclipse attracted but little of their attention. Was it right not to regret this? They appeared to me, however, so much alive in their own minds to their own concerns that I could not look upon it as a misfortune that they had little perception for such pleasures as cannot be cultivated without ease and leisure. Yet, if one surveys life in all its duties and relations, such ease and leisure will not be found so enviable a privilege as it may at first appear. Natural Philosophy, Painting, and Poetry, and refined taste are no doubt great acquisitions to society; but among those who dedicate themselves to such pursuits, it is to be feared that few are as happy, and as consistent in the management of their lives, as the class of persons who at that time led me into this course of reflection. I do not mean by this to be understood to derogate from intellectual pursuits, for that would be monstrous: I say it in deep gratitude for this compensation to those whose cares are limited to the necessities of daily life. Among them, self-tormentors, so numerous in the higher classes of society, are rare.—I. F.]
Since risen from ocean, ocean to defy,
Appeared the Crag of Ailsa, ne'er did morn
With gleaming lights more gracefully adorn
His sides, or wreathe with mist his forehead high:
Now, faintly darkening with the sun's eclipse,[882] 5
Still is he seen, in lone sublimity,
Towering above the sea and little ships;
For dwarfs the tallest seem while sailing by,
Each for her haven; with her freight of Care,
Pleasure, or Grief, and Toil that seldom looks 10
Into the secret of to-morrow's fare;
Though poor, yet rich, without the wealth of books,
Or aught that watchful Love to Nature owes
For her mute Powers, fix'd Forms, or[883] transient Shows.
FOOTNOTES:
[881] 1845.
In the Frith of Clyde, Ailsa Crag.
(July 17, 1833) 1835.
In the Frith of Clyde, Ailsa Crag.
(July 17) 1837.
[882] Compare The Eclipse of the Sun, 1820, in the "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent, 1820" (vol. vi. p. 345).—Ed.
[883] 1837.
... and ... 1835.
XXIV
ON THE FRITH OF CLYDE
(IN A STEAM-BOAT)
[The mountain outline on the north of this island, as seen from the Frith of Clyde,[884] is much the finest I have ever noticed in Scotland or elsewhere—I.F.]
Arran! a single-crested Teneriffe,
A St. Helena next—in shape and hue,
Varying her crowded peaks and ridges blue;
Who but must covet a cloud-seat, or skiff
Built for the air, or winged Hippogriff? 5
That he might fly, where no one could pursue,
From this dull Monster and her sooty crew;
And, as[885] a God, light on thy topmost cliff.
Impotent wish! which reason would despise
If the mind knew no union of extremes, 10
No natural bond between the boldest schemes
Ambition frames, and heart-humilities.[886]
Beneath stern mountains many a soft vale lies,
And lofty springs give birth to lowly streams.
FOOTNOTES:
[884] He doubtless refers to the view of Goatfell and Kaim-na-Calliach, with Loch Ranza in front.—Ed.
[885] 1837.
And, like ... 1835.
[886] Compare The Triad, II. 145-148—
High is her aim as heaven above,
And wide as ether her good-will;
And, like the lowly reed, her love
Can drink its nurture from the scantiest rill.—Ed.
XXV
ON REVISITING DUNOLLY CASTLE
(See former series, "Yarrow Revisited," etc., p. [278].)
The captive Bird was gone;—to cliff or moor
Perchance had flown, delivered by the storm;
Or he had pined, and sunk to feed the worm:
Him found we not: but, climbing a tall tower,
There saw, impaved with rude fidelity 5
Of art mosaic, in a roofless floor,[887]
An Eagle with stretched wings, but beamless eye—
An Eagle that could neither wail nor soar.
Effigy[888] of the Vanished[889]—(shall I dare
To call thee so?) or symbol of fierce deeds 10
And of the towering courage which past times
Rejoiced in—take, whate'er thou be, a share,[890]
Not undeserved, of the memorial rhymes
That animate my way where'er it leads!
Lieutenant-Colonel M'Dougal of Dunollie wrote to me (October 1883) that "the mosaic picture of an eagle—if it may be called so—still exists, though it is rather a rude work of art. I believe it was executed by a gardener, who was here about the time of Wordsworth's visit. It was made of small stones, and is now a good deal overgrown with weeds, moss, etc., as the second story of the old ruin is open to the weather. An eagle was for many years kept in a cage, made against a wall of the ruin, and this no doubt was the cause of the rude picture being made."—Ed.
FOOTNOTES:
[887] 1835.
Espied an old mosaic effigy
Set in a roofless chamber's pavement floor,
MS.
[888] 1837.
Shade of the poor Departed ... ms.
Effigies of the Vanished ... 1835.
[889] This ingenious piece of workmanship, as I afterwards learned, had been executed for their own amusement by some labourers employed about the place.—W. W. 1835.
[890] 1837.
... or symbol of past times,
That towering courage, and the savage deeds
Those times were proud of, take Thou too a share, 1835.
Their towering courage, and the savage deeds
Which they were proud of, ...
MS.
XXVI
THE DUNOLLY EAGLE
Not to the clouds, not to the cliff, he flew;
But when a storm, on sea or mountain bred,
Came and delivered him, alone he sped
Into the castle-dungeon's darkest mew.
Now, near his master's house in open view 5
He dwells, and hears indignant tempests howl,
Kennelled and chained. Ye tame domestic fowl,[891]
Beware of him! Thou, saucy cockatoo,
Look to thy plumage and thy life!—The roe,
Fleet as the west wind, is for him no quarry; 10
Balanced in ether he will never tarry,
Eyeing the sea's blue depths. Poor Bird! even so
Doth man of brother man a creature make
That clings to slavery for its own sad sake.
FOOTNOTES:
[891] 1835.
... villatic Fowl,
MS.
XXVII
WRITTEN IN A BLANK LEAF OF MACPHERSON'S OSSIAN[892]
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
[The verses,
or strayed
From hope and promise, self-betrayed,
were, I am sorry to say, suggested from apprehensions of the fate of my friend, H.C.,[893] the subject of the verses addressed to H.C. when six years old. The piece to "Memory" arose out of similar feelings.[894]—I. F.]
Oft have I caught, upon a fitful breeze,[895]
Fragments of far-off melodies,
With ear not coveting the whole,
A part so charmed the pensive soul:
While a dark storm before my sight 5
Was yielding, on a mountain height
Loose vapours have I watched, that won
Prismatic colours from the sun;
Nor felt a wish that heaven would show
The image of its perfect bow. 10
What need, then, of these finished Strains?
Away with counterfeit Remains!
An abbey in its lone recess,
A temple of the wilderness,
Wrecks though they be, announce with feeling 15
The majesty of honest dealing.
Spirit of Ossian! if imbound
In language thou may'st yet be found,
If aught (intrusted to the pen
Or floating on the tongues of men, 20
Albeit shattered and impaired)
Subsist thy dignity to guard,
In concert with memorial claim
Of old grey stone, and high-born name
That cleaves to rock or pillared cave 25
Where moans the blast, or beats the wave,
Let Truth, stern arbitress of all,
Interpret that Original,
And for presumptuous wrongs atone;—
Authentic words be given, or none! 30
Time is not blind;—yet He, who spares
Pyramid pointing to the stars,
Hath preyed with ruthless appetite
On all that marked the primal flight
Of the poetic ecstasy 35
Into the land of mystery.
No tongue is able to rehearse
One measure, Orpheus! of thy verse;[896]
Musæus, stationed with his lyre
Supreme among the Elysian quire, 40
Is, for the dwellers upon earth
Mute as a lark ere morning's birth,[897]
Why grieve for these, though past away
The music, and extinct the lay?
When thousands, by severer doom, 45
Full early to the silent tomb
Have sunk, at Nature's call; or strayed
From hope and promise, self-betrayed;
The garland withering on their brows;
Stung with remorse for broken vows; 50
Frantic—else how might they rejoice?
And friendless, by their own sad choice!
Hail, Bards of mightier grasp! on you
I chiefly call, the chosen Few,
Who cast-not off the acknowledged guide, 55
Who faltered not, nor turned aside;
Whose lofty genius could survive
Privation, under sorrow thrive;
In whom the fiery Muse revered
The symbol of a snow-white beard, 60
Bedewed with meditative tears
Dropped from the lenient cloud of years.
Brothers in soul! though distant times
Produced you nursed in various climes,
Ye, when the orb of life had waned, 65
A plenitude of love retained:
Hence, while in you each sad regret
By corresponding hope was met,
Ye lingered among human kind,
Sweet voices for the passing wind; 70
Departing sunbeams, loth to stop,
Though smiling on the last hill top![898]
Such to the tender-hearted maid
Even ere her joys begin to fade;
Such, haply, to the rugged chief 75
By fortune crushed, or tamed by grief;
Appears, on Morven's lonely shore,
Dim-gleaming through imperfect lore,
The Son of Fingal; such was blind
Mæonides of ampler mind;[899] 80
Such Milton, to the fountain head
Of glory by Urania led!
FOOTNOTES:
[892] This poem was first published among the Poems of Sentiment and Reflection in the edition of 1827. In the edition of 1836 Wordsworth gave 1824 as the year of its composition. It is here printed in the series to which it was finally assigned, although slightly out of its chronological place.—Ed.
[893] Hartley Coleridge.—Ed.
[895] 1832.
... caught from fitful breeze 1827.
[896] The genuine Orphic Literature included some Hymns, a Theogony, Oracles, Songs, and Sacred Legends, [Greek: hieroi logoi]ἱεροὶ λόγοι: but none have come down to modern times. The Orphica which have survived are spurious.—Ed.
[897] None of the fragments attributed to Musæus by the ancients—the [Greek: Chrêsmoi], [Greek: Hypothêkai], [Greek: Theogonia]Χρησμοί, Ὑποθῆκαι, Θεογονία, etc.—have survived.—Ed.
[898] Compare vol. ii. p. 163—
There is an Eminence,—of these our hills
The last that parleys with the setting sun.—Ed.
[899] Homer; so called from the fact that Mæonia in Lydia was, by some, claimed as his birth-place.—Ed.
XXVIII
CAVE OF STAFFA[900]
We saw, but surely, in the motley crowd,
Not one of us has felt the far-famed sight;
How could we feel it? each the other's blight,
Hurried and hurrying, volatile and loud.
O for those motions only that invite 5
The Ghost of Fingal to his tuneful Cave
By the breeze entered, and wave after wave
Softly embosoming the timid light!
And by one Votary who at will might stand
Gazing, and take into his mind and heart, 10
With undistracted reverence, the effect
Of those proportions where the almighty hand
That made the worlds, the sovereign Architect,
Has deigned to work as if with human Art![901]
FOOTNOTES:
[900] The reader may be tempted to exclaim, "How came this and the two following sonnets to be written, after the dissatisfaction expressed in the preceding one?" In fact, at the risk of incurring the reasonable displeasure of the master of the steam-boat, I returned[902] to the cave, and explored it under circumstances more favourable to those imaginative impressions which it is so wonderfully fitted to make upon the mind.—W. W. 1835.
[901] Staffa, or the island of Staves, as some derive the name.—Ed.
[902] 1845.
the Author returned 1835.
XXIX
CAVE OF STAFFA
(AFTER THE CROWD HAD DEPARTED)[903]
Thanks for the lessons of this Spot—fit school
For the presumptuous thoughts that would assign
Mechanic laws to agency divine;
And, measuring heaven by earth, would overrule
Infinite Power. The pillared vestibule, 5
Expanding yet precise, the roof embowed,[904]
Might seem designed to humble man, when proud
Of his best workmanship by plan and tool.
Down-bearing with his whole Atlantic weight
Of tide and tempest on the Structure's base, 10
And flashing to that Structure's topmost height,[905]
Ocean has proved its strength, and of its grace
In calms is conscious,[906] finding for his freight
Of softest music some responsive place.
FOOTNOTES:
[903] 1845.
Cave of Staffa. 1835.
[904] Note the topographical accuracy of this description.—Ed.
[905] 1837.
And flashing upwards to its topmost height, 1835.
[906] Compare, On a high part of the Coast of Cumberland, p. [338]—
No; 'tis the earth-voice of the mighty sea,
Whispering how meek and gentle he can be!—Ed.
XXX
CAVE OF STAFFA
Ye shadowy Beings, that have rights and claims
In every cell of Fingal's mystic Grot,
Where are ye? Driven or venturing to the spot,
Our fathers glimpses caught of your thin Frames,
And, by your mien and bearing, knew your names; 5
And they could hear his ghostly song who trod
Earth, till the flesh lay on him like a load,
While he struck his desolate harp without hopes or aims.
Vanished ye are, but subject to recal;
Why keep we else the instincts whose dread law 10
Ruled here of yore, till what men felt they saw,
Not by black arts but magic natural!
If eyes be still sworn vassals of belief,
Yon light shapes forth a Bard, that shade a Chief.
XXXI
FLOWERS ON THE TOP OF THE PILLARS AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE CAVE
Hope smiled when your nativity was cast,
Children of Summer![907] Ye fresh Flowers that brave
What Summer here escapes not, the fierce wave,
And whole artillery of the western blast,
Battering the Temple's front, its long-drawn nave 5
Smiting, as if each moment were their last.
But ye, bright Flowers, on frieze and architrave
Survive,[908] and once again the Pile stands fast;
Calm as the Universe, from specular towers
Of heaven contemplated by Spirits pure 10
With mute astonishment, it stands sustained
Through every part in symmetry, to endure,[909]
Unhurt, the assault of Time with all his hours,
As the supreme Artificer ordained.[910]
FOOTNOTES:
[907] Upon the head of the columns which form the front of the cave, rests a body of decomposed basaltic matter, which was richly decorated with that large bright flower, the ox-eyed daisy. I had[911] noticed the same flower growing with profusion among the bold rocks on the western coast of the Isle of Man; making a brilliant contrast with their black and gloomy surfaces.—W. W. 1835.
[908] They still survive, and flourish above the pillars.—Ed.
[909] 1840 and C.
Suns and their systems, diverse yet sustained
In symmetry, and fashioned to endure, 1835.
[910] 1835.
As the Supreme Geometer ordained.
MS.
[911] 1845.
The author had 1835.
XXXII
IONA
On to Iona!—What can she afford
To us save matter for a thoughtful sigh,
Heaved over ruin with stability
In urgent contrast? To diffuse the Word
(Thy Paramount, mighty Nature! and Time's Lord)
Her Temples rose,[912] 'mid pagan gloom; but why, 6
Even for a moment, has our verse deplored
Their wrongs, since they fulfilled their destiny?
And when, subjected to a common doom
Of mutability, those far-famed Piles 10
Shall disappear from both the sister Isles,
Iona's Saints, forgetting not past days,
Garlands shall wear of amaranthine bloom,
While heaven's vast sea of voices chants their praise.
FOOTNOTES:
[912] St. Columba took up his residence at Iona, in 563.—Ed.
XXXIII
IONA
(UPON LANDING)
How sad a welcome! To each voyager[913]
Some ragged child holds up for sale a store[914]
Of wave-worn pebbles, pleading on the shore[915]
Where once came monk and nun with gentle stir,
Blessings to give, news ask, or suit prefer. 5
Yet is[916] yon neat trim church[917] a grateful speck
Of novelty amid the sacred wreck
Strewn far and wide. Think, proud Philosopher![918]
Fallen though she be, this Glory of the west,[919]
Still on her sons, the beams of mercy shine; 10
And "hopes, perhaps more heavenly bright than thine,
A grace by thee unsought and unpossest,
A faith more fixed, a rapture more divine,
Shall gild their passage to eternal rest."[920]
FOOTNOTES:
[913] 1837.
With earnest look, to every voyager, 1835.
[914] 1837.
... his store 1835.
[915] 1835.
With outstretched hands, round every voyager
Press ragged children, each to supplicate
A price for wave-worn pebbles on his plate,
MS.
[916] 1837.
But see ... 1835.
[917] This refers to the modern parish Church on the Island, not to St. Oran's Chapel, or the Cathedral Church of St. Mary.—Ed.
[918] 1837.
... this sacred wreck—
Nay spare thy scorn, haughty Philosopher! 1835.
[919] 1835.
Fallen as she is, this Glory of the West,
MS.
[920] The four last lines of this sonnet are adopted from a well-known sonnet of Russel, as conveying my feeling[921] better than any words of my own[922] could do.—W. W. 1835.
These "last four lines" are taken from sonnet No. x. of Sonnets and Miscellaneous Poems, by the late Thomas Russel, Fellow of New College Oxford, printed for D. Price and J. Cooke, 1789. The Rev. Thomas Russell, author of these Sonnets, was born 1762, died 1788. He was a Wykehamist, and is referred to in a letter by Wordsworth to Dyce in 1833.—Ed.
[921] 1845
the author's feeling 1835.
[922] 1845
his own 1835.
XXXIV
THE BLACK STONES OF IONA
[See Martin's Voyage among the Western Isles.[923]]
Here on their knees men swore; the stones were black,[924]
Black in the people's minds and words,[925] yet they
Were at that time, as now, in colour grey.
But what is colour, if upon the rack
Of conscience souls are placed by deeds that lack 5
Concord with oaths? What differ night and day
Then, when before the Perjured on his way
Hell opens, and the heavens in vengeance crack
Above his head uplifted in vain prayer
To Saint, or Fiend,[926] or to the Godhead whom 10
He had insulted—Peasant, King, or Thane?
Fly where the culprit may, guilt meets a doom;
And, from invisible worlds at need laid bare,
Come links for social order's awful chain.
FOOTNOTES:
[923] Description of the Western Islands of Scotland; including an account of the Manners, Customs, Religion, Language, Dress, etc., of the Inhabitants, by M. Martin, 1703.—Ed.
[924] In Johnson's Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland the following occurs in the section on "Icolmkill:"—"The place is said to be known where the Black Stones lie concealed, on which the old Highland chiefs, when they made contracts and alliances, used to take the oath, which was considered more sacred than any other obligation, and which could not be violated without the blackest infamy. In these days of violence and rapine, it was of great importance to impose upon savage minds the sanctity of an oath, by some particular and extraordinary circumstances—they would not have recourse to the Black Stones upon small or common occasions; and when they had established their faith by this tremendous sanction, inconstancy and treachery were no longer feared."—Ed.
[925] 1835.
Here on their knees, they swore, the stones were black,
Black in men's minds and words, ...
MS.
[926] 1835.
To saints, to fiends, ...
MS.
XXXV
"HOMEWARD WE TURN. ISLE OF COLUMBA'S CELL"
Homeward we turn. Isle of Columba's Cell,
Where Christian piety's soul-cheering spark
(Kindled from Heaven between the light and dark
Of time) shone like the morning-star, farewell!—
And fare thee well, to Fancy visible, 5
Remote St. Kilda, lone and loved sea-mark[927]
For many a voyage made in her swift bark,[928]
When with more hues than in the rainbow dwell
Thou a mysterious intercourse dost hold,
Extracting from clear skies and air serene, 10
And out of sun-bright waves, a lucid veil,
That thickens, spreads, and, mingling fold with fold,
Makes known, when thou no longer canst be seen,
Thy whereabout, to warn the approaching sail.
FOOTNOTES:
[927] St. Kilda is sixty miles to the north-west of Harris, in the Outer Hebrides.—Ed.
[928] 1837.
... farewell!—
Remote St. Kilda, art thou visible?
No—but farewell to thee, beloved sea-mark
From many a voyage made in Fancy's bark, 1835.
XXXVI
GREENOCK
Per me si va nella Città dolente.[929]
We have not passed into a doleful City,
We who were led to-day down a grim dell,
By some too boldly named "the Jaws of Hell:"[930]
Where be the wretched ones, the sights for pity?
These crowded streets resound no plaintive ditty:— 5
As from the hive where bees in summer dwell,
Sorrow seems here excluded; and that knell,
It neither damps the gay, nor checks the witty.
Alas! too busy Rival of old Tyre,[931]
Whose merchants Princes were, whose decks were thrones;
Soon may the punctual sea in vain respire 11
To serve thy need, in union with that Clyde
Whose nursling current brawls o'er mossy stones,[932]
The poor, the lonely, herdsman's joy and pride.
FOOTNOTES:
[929] See Dante, Inferno, iii. I.—Ed.
[930] They came down from Inveraray to Loch Goil by Hell's Glen.—Ed.
[931] 1837.
Too busy Mart! thus fared it with old Tyre, 1835.
[932] Above Elvanfoot, near the watershed, at "Summit" on the Caledonian Railway line, where the Clyde rises.—Ed.
XXXVII
"THERE!" SAID A STRIPLING, POINTING WITH MEET PRIDE
[Mosgiel was thus pointed out to me by a young man on the top of the coach on my way from Glasgow to Kilmarnock. It is remarkable that, though Burns lived some time here, and during much the most productive period of his poetical life, he nowhere adverts to the splendid prospects stretching towards the sea and bounded by the peaks of Arran on one part, which in clear weather he must have had daily before his eyes. In one of his poetical effusions he speaks of describing "fair Nature's face" as a privilege on which he sets a high value; nevertheless, natural appearances rarely take a lead in his poetry. It is as a human being, eminently sensitive and intelligent, and not as a poet, clad in his priestly robes and carrying the ensigns of sacerdotal office, that he interests and affects us. Whether he speaks of rivers, hills and woods, it is not so much on account of the properties with which they are absolutely endowed, as relatively to local patriotic remembrances and associations, or as they ministered to personal feelings, especially those of love, whether happy or otherwise;—yet it is not always so. Soon after we had passed Mosgiel Farm we crossed the Ayr, murmuring and winding through a narrow woody hollow. His line—"Auld hermit Ayr strays through his woods"—came at once to my mind with Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, and Doon,—Ayrshire streams over which he breathes a sigh as being unnamed in song; and surely his own attempts to make them known were as successful as his heart could desire.—I. F.]
"There!" said a Stripling, pointing with meet pride
Towards a low roof with green trees half concealed,
"Is Mosgiel Farm; and that's the very field
Where Burns ploughed up the Daisy."[933] Far and wide
A plain below stretched seaward, while, descried 5
Above sea-clouds, the Peaks of Arran rose;
And, by that simple notice, the repose
Of earth, sky, sea, and air, was vivified.
Beneath "the random bield of clod or stone"
Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower 10
Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour
Have passed away; less happy than the One
That, by the unwilling ploughshare, died to prove
The tender charm of poetry and love.
FOOTNOTES:
[933] See Burns's poem To a Mountain Daisy, or as it was originally called, The Gowan.—Ed.
XXXVIII
THE RIVER EDEN, CUMBERLAND
["Nature gives thee flowers
That have no rivals among British bowers."
This can scarcely be true to the letter; but, without stretching the point at all, I can say that the soil and air appear more congenial with many upon the banks of this river than I have observed in any other parts of Great Britain.—I. F.]
Eden! till now thy beauty had I viewed
By glimpses only, and confess with shame
That verse of mine, whate'er its varying mood,
Repeats but once the sound of thy sweet name:[934]
Yet fetched from Paradise[935] that honour came, 5
Rightfully borne; for Nature gives thee flowers
That have no rivals among British bowers;
And thy bold rocks are worthy of their fame.[936]
Measuring thy course, fair Stream! at length I pay[937]
To my life's neighbour dues of neighbourhood; 10
But I have traced thee on thy winding way[938]
With pleasure sometimes by this thought restrained
For things far off we toil, while many a good[939]
Not sought, because too near, is never gained.[940]
FOOTNOTES:
[934] 1835.
Full long thy beauty, Eden, had I viewed,
By glimpses only ...
MS.
Eden! the Muse has wronged thee, be the shame
Frankly acknowledged, in no careless mood
Of memory, my verse have I reviewed
And met but once the sound of thy sweet name:
MS.
[935] It is to be feared that there is more of the poet than the sound etymologist in this derivation of the Eden. On the western coast of Cumberland is a rivulet which enters the sea at Moresby, known also in the neighbourhood by the name of Eden. May not the latter syllable come from the word Dean, a valley? Langdale, near Ambleside, is by the inhabitants called Langden. The former syllable occurs in the name Emont, a principal feeder of the Eden; and the stream which flows, when the tide is out, over Cartmel Sands, is called the Ea—French, eau—Latin, aqua.—W. W. 1835.
[936] Especially on the upper reaches of the river, as seen from the Midland Railway line beyond Appleby.—Ed.
[937] 1835.
Bright are the hours that prompt me now to pay
MS.
[938] 1835.
Thee have I traced along thy winding way
MS.
[939] 1845.
... by the thought restrained
That things far off are toiled for, while a good 1835.
That for things far off we toil, while many a good 1840.
[940] 1840.
... is seldom gained 1835 and
MS.
XXXIX
MONUMENT OF MRS. HOWARD
(by Nollekens)
IN WETHERAL CHURCH, NEAR COREY, ON THE BANKS OF THE EDEN
[Before this monument was put up in the Church at Wetheral, I saw it in the sculptor's studio. Nollekens, who, by-the-bye, was a strange and grotesque figure that interfered much with one's admiration of his works, showed me at the same time the various models in clay which he had made, one after another, of the Mother and her Infant: the improvement on each was surprising; and how so much grace, beauty, and tenderness had come out of such a head I was sadly puzzled to conceive. Upon a window-seat in his parlour lay two casts of faces, one of the Duchess of Devonshire, so noted in her day; and the other of Mr. Pitt, taken after his death, a ghastly resemblance, as these things always are, even when taken from the living subject, and more ghastly in this instance from the peculiarity of the features. The heedless and apparently neglectful manner in which the faces of these two persons were left—the one so distinguished in London society, and the other upon whose counsels and public conduct, during a most momentous period, depended the fate of this great Empire and perhaps of all Europe—afforded a lesson to which the dullest of casual visitors could scarcely be insensible. It touched me the more because I had so often seen Mr. Pitt upon his own ground at Cambridge and upon the floor of the House of Commons.—I. F.]
Stretched on the dying Mother's lap, lies dead
Her new-born Babe; dire ending[941] of bright hope!
But Sculpture here, with the divinest scope
Of luminous faith, heavenward hath raised that head
So patiently; and through one hand has spread 5
A touch so tender for the insensate Child—
(Earth's lingering love to parting reconciled,
Brief parting, for the spirit is all but fled)—
That we, who contemplate the turns of life
Through this still medium, are consoled and cheered;
Feel with the Mother, think the severed Wife 11
Is less to be lamented than revered;
And own that Art, triumphant over strife
And pain, hath powers to Eternity endeared.
FOOTNOTES:
[941] 1845.
... issue ... 1835.
XL
SUGGESTED BY THE FOREGOING[942]
Tranquillity! the sovereign aim wert thou
In heathen schools of philosophic lore;[943]
Heart-stricken by stern destiny of yore
The Tragic Muse thee served with thoughtful vow;
And what of hope Elysium could allow 5
Was fondly seized by Sculpture, to restore
Peace to the Mourner. But when He who wore[944]
The crown of thorns around his bleeding brow
Warmed our sad being with celestial light,[945]
Then Arts which still had drawn a softening grace 10
From shadowy fountains of the Infinite,
Communed with that Idea face to face:
And move around it now as planets run,
Each in its orbit round the central Sun.
FOOTNOTES:
[942] In the edition of 1835 there is no title to this sonnet.
[943] [Greek: Ataraxia]Ἀταραξία, was the aim of Stoic, Epicurean, and Sceptic alike.—Ed.
[944] 1840.
Peace to the Mourner's soul; but He who wore 1835.
[945] 1840.
... with his glorious light: 1835.
Round our sad being shed celestial light, C.
XLI
NUNNERY[946]
[I became acquainted with the walks of Nunnery when a boy: they are within easy reach of a day's pleasant excursion from the town of Penrith, where I used to pass my summer holidays under the roof of my maternal Grandfather. The place is well worth visiting; though, within these few years, its privacy, and therefore the pleasure which the scene is so well fitted to give, has been injuriously affected by walks cut in the rocks on that side the stream which had been left in its natural state.—I. F.]
The floods are roused, and will not soon be weary;
Down from the Pennine Alps[947] how fiercely sweeps
Croglin, the stately Eden's tributary![948]
He raves, or through some moody passage creeps
Plotting new mischief—out again he leaps 5
Into broad light, and sends, through regions airy,[949]
That voice which soothed the Nuns while on the steeps
They knelt in prayer, or sang to blissful Mary.[950]
That union ceased: then, cleaving easy walks
Through crags, and smoothing paths beset with danger,
Came studious Taste; and many a pensive stranger 11
Dreams on the banks, and to the river talks.
What change shall happen next to Nunnery Dell?[951]
Canal, and Viaduct, and Railway, tell![952]
FOOTNOTES:
[946] Nunnery; so named from the House for Benedictine Nuns established by William Rufus.—Ed.
[947] The chain of Crossfell[953]—W. W. 1835.
[948] The two streams of the Croglin and the Eden unite in the grounds of Nunnery.—Ed.
[949] 1835.
Seeking in vain broad light, and regions aery.
MS.
[950] 1835.
But with that voice which once high on his steeps
Mingled with vespers, sung to blissful Mary—
MS.
[951] 1835.
... to Croglin Dell?
MS.
[952] At Corby, a few miles below Nunnery, the Eden is crossed by a magnificent viaduct; and another of these works is thrown over a deep glen or ravine at a very short distance from the main stream.—W. W. 1835.
[953] 1845.
which parts Cumberland and Westmoreland from Northumberland
and Durham. 1835.
XLII
STEAMBOATS, VIADUCTS, AND RAILWAYS
Motions and Means, on land and sea[954] at war
With old poetic feeling, not for this,
Shall ye, by Poets even, be judged amiss!
Nor shall your presence, howsoe'er it mar
The loveliness of Nature, prove a bar 5
To the Mind's gaining that prophetic sense
Of future change, that point of vision, whence
May be discovered what in soul ye are.
In spite of all that beauty may disown
In your harsh features, Nature doth embrace 10
Her lawful offspring in Man's art; and Time,
Pleased with your triumphs o'er his brother Space,
Accepts from your bold hands the proffered crown
Of hope, and smiles on you with cheer sublime.[955]
FOOTNOTES:
[954] 1835.
... on sea or land ...
Version in The Morning Post.
[955] Compare the Sonnet On the Projected Kendal and Windermere Railway, written in 1844.—Ed.
XLIII
THE MONUMENT COMMONLY CALLED LONG MEG AND HER DAUGHTERS, NEAR THE RIVER EDEN[956]
Composed, probably, in 1821.—Published 1822
A weight of awe, not easy to be borne,
Fell suddenly upon my Spirit—cast
From the dread bosom of the unknown past,
When first I saw that family forlorn.[957]
Speak Thou, whose massy strength and stature scorn[958]
The power of years—pre-eminent, and placed 6
Apart, to overlook the circle vast—
Speak, Giant-mother! tell it to the Morn
While she dispels the cumbrous shades of Night;
Let the Moon hear, emerging from a cloud; 10
At whose behest uprose on British ground
That Sisterhood, in hieroglyphic round
Forth-shadowing, some have deemed, the infinite
The inviolable God, that tames the proud![959][960]
FOOTNOTES:
[956] It first appeared in A Description of the Scenery of the Lakes in the North of England, third edition, 1822.—Ed.
[957] 1837.
....that Sisterhood forlorn. 1822.
[958] 1837.
And him, whose strength and stature seems to scorn 1822.
[959] The daughters of Long Meg, placed in a perfect circle eighty yards in diameter, are seventy-two in number above ground; a little way out of the circle stands Long Meg herself, a single stone, eighteen feet high. When I first saw this monument, as I came upon it by surprise, I might over-rate its importance as an object; but, though it will not bear a comparison with Stonehenge, I must say, I have not seen any other relique of those dark ages, which can pretend to rival it in singularity and dignity of appearance.—W. W. 1837.
The text of this note, in the edition of 1822, is slightly different.—Ed.
In a letter to Sir George Beaumont, January 6, 1821, Wordsworth wrote, "My road brought me suddenly and unexpectedly upon that ancient monument, called by the country people Long Meg and her Daughters. Everybody has heard of it, and so had I from very early childhood; but had never seen it before. Next to Stonehenge it is beyond dispute the most noble relic of the kind that this or probably any other country contains. Long Meg is a single block of unhewn stone, eighteen feet high, at a small distance from a vast circle of other stones, some of them of huge size, though curtailed of their stature, by their own incessant pressure upon it." Compare a note in Wordsworth's Guide to the Scenery of the Lakes, section 2.—Ed.
[960] 1837.
When, how, and wherefore, rose on British ground
That wondrous Monument, whose mystic round
Forth shadows, some have deemed, to mortal sight
The inviolable God that tames the proud! 1822.
XLIV
LOWTHER[961]
["Cathedral pomp." It may be questioned whether this union was in the contemplation of the artist when he planned the edifice. However this might be, a poet may be excused for taking the view of the subject presented in this Sonnet.—I. F.]
Lowther! in thy majestic Pile are seen[962]
Cathedral pomp and grace, in apt accord[963]
With the baronial castle's sterner mien;[964]
Union significant of God adored,
And charters won and guarded by the sword 5
Of ancient honour; whence that goodly state
Of polity which wise men venerate,[965]
And will maintain, if God his help afford.
Hourly the democratic torrent swells;[966]
For airy promises and hopes suborned 10
The strength of backward-looking thoughts is scorned.
Fall if ye must, ye Towers and Pinnacles,
With what ye symbolise; authentic Story
Will say, Ye disappeared with England's Glory!
FOOTNOTES:
[961] There was no title in the edition of 1835.
[962] 1835.
... in thy magnificence are seen
MS.
[963] 1835.
Shapes of cathedral pomp that well accord
MS.
[964] The present Castle was begun in 1808. It is in the style of the 13th and 14th century structures. The arched corridors surrounding the staircase—which is sixty feet square and ninety feet high—may justify the description in the sonnet. These stone corridors open on each side, through the centre of the castle. Compare the reference to Lowther in Barren's Travels in China, p. 134, in the course of his description of "Gehol's matchless gardens," referred to in The Prelude, book viii. (vol. iii. p. 274.)—Ed.
[965] The Lowther family have been, for generations, the representatives of the Conservative cause in Cumberland.—Ed.
[966] 1835.
But high the democratic torrent swells.
MS.
XLV
TO THE EARL OF LONSDALE
"Magistratus indicat virum."
Lonsdale! it were unworthy of a Guest,
Whose heart with gratitude to thee inclines,
If he should speak, by fancy touched, of signs
On thy Abode harmoniously imprest,
Yet be unmoved with wishes to attest 5
How in thy mind and moral frame agree
Fortitude, and that Christian Charity
Which, filling, consecrates the human breast.
And if the Motto on thy 'scutcheon teach
With truth, "The Magistracy shows the Man;"
That searching test thy public course has stood;[967] 11
As will be owned alike by bad and good,
Soon as the measuring of life's little span
Shall place thy virtues out of Envy's reach.[968]
FOOTNOTES:
[967] 1835.
Lonsdale! it were unworthy of a Guest,
One chiefly well aware how much he owes
To thy regard, to speak in verse or prose
Of types and signs harmoniously imprest
On thy Abode, neglecting to attest
That in thy Mansion's Lord as well agree
Meekness and strength and Christian charity,
That filling, consecrates the human breast.
And if, as thy armorial bearings teach,
"The Magistracy indicates the Man,"
That test thy life triumphantly has stood;
MS.
[968] This sonnet was written immediately after certain trials, which took place at the Cumberland Assizes, when the Earl of Lonsdale, in consequence of repeated and long-continued attacks upon his character, through the local press, had thought it right to prosecute the conductors and proprietors of three several journals. A verdict of libel was given in one case; and, in the others, the prosecutions were withdrawn, upon the individuals retracting and disavowing the charges, expressing regret that they had been made, and promising to abstain from the like in future.—W. W. 1835.
XLVI
THE SOMNAMBULIST[969]
[This poem might be dedicated to my friends, Sir G. Beaumont and Mr. Rogers jointly. While we were making an excursion together in this part of the Lake District we heard that Mr. Glover, the artist, while lodging at Lyulph's Tower, had been disturbed by a loud shriek, and upon rising he had learnt that it had come from a young woman in the house who was in the habit of walking in her sleep. In that state she had gone down stairs, and, while attempting to open the outer door, either from some difficulty or the effect of the cold stone upon her feet, had uttered the cry which alarmed him. It seemed to us all that this might serve as a hint for a poem, and the story here told was constructed and soon after put into verse by me as it now stands.—I. F.]
List, ye who pass by Lyulph's Tower[970][971]
At eve; how softly then
Doth Aira-force, that torrent hoarse,
Speak from the woody glen![972]
Fit music for a solemn vale! 5
And holier seems the ground[973]
To him who catches[974] on the gale
The spirit of a mournful tale,
Embodied in the sound.
Not far from that fair site whereon 10
The Pleasure-house is reared,
As story says, in antique days
A stern-brow'd house appeared;
Foil to a Jewel rich in light
There set, and guarded well; 15
Cage for a Bird of plumage bright,
Sweet-voiced, nor wishing for a flight
Beyond her native dell.
To win this bright Bird from her cage,
To make this Gem their own, 20
Came Barons bold, with store of gold,
And Knights of high renown;
But one She prized, and only one;
Sir Eglamore was he;
Full happy season, when was known, 25
Ye Dales and Hills! to you alone
Their mutual loyalty—[975]
Known chiefly, Aira! to thy glen,
Thy brook, and bowers of holly;
Where Passion caught what Nature taught, 30
That all but love is folly;
Where Fact with Fancy stooped to play;
Doubt came not, nor regret—
To trouble hours that winged their way,
As if through an immortal day 35
Whose sun could never set.
But in old times[976] Love dwelt not long
Sequester'd with repose;
Best throve the fire of chaste desire,
Fanned by the breath of foes. 40
"A conquering lance is beauty's test,
And proves the Lover true;"
So spake Sir Eglamore, and pressed
The drooping Emma[977] to his breast,
And looked a blind adieu. 45
They parted.—Well with him it fared
Through wide-spread regions errant;
A knight of proof in love's behoof,
The thirst of fame his warrant:
And She her happiness[978] can build 50
On woman's quiet hours;
Though faint, compared with spear and shield,
The solace beads and masses yield,
And needlework and flowers.
Yet blest was Emma[979] when she heard 55
Her Champion's praise recounted;
Though brain would swim, and eyes grow dim,
And high her blushes mounted;
Or when a bold heroic lay
She warbled from full heart; 60
Delightful blossoms for the May
Of absence! but they will not stay,
Born only to depart.
Hope wanes with her, while lustre fills
Whatever path he chooses; 65
As if his orb, that owns no curb,
Received the light hers loses.
He comes not back; an ampler space
Requires for nobler deeds;
He ranges on from place to place, 70
Till of his doings is no trace,
But what her fancy breeds.
His fame may spread, but in the past
Her spirit finds its centre;
Clear sight She has of what he was, 75
And that would now content her.
"Still is he my devoted Knight?"
The tear in answer flows;
Month falls on month with heavier weight;
Day sickens round her, and the night 80
Is empty of repose.
In sleep She sometimes walked abroad,
Deep sighs with quick words blending,
Like that pale Queen whose hands are seen
With fancied spots contending;[980] 85
But she is innocent of blood,—
The moon is not more pure
That shines aloft, while through the wood
She thrids her way, the sounding Flood
Her melancholy lure! 90
While 'mid the fern-brake sleeps the doe,
And owls alone are waking,
In white arrayed, glides on the Maid
The downward pathway taking,
That leads her to the torrent's side 95
And to a holly bower;
By whom on this still night descried?
By whom in that lone place espied?
By thee, Sir Eglamore![981]
A wandering Ghost, so thinks the Knight, 100
His coming step has thwarted,
Beneath the boughs that heard their vows,
Within whose shade they parted.
Hush, hush, the busy Sleeper see!
Perplexed her fingers seem, 105
As if they from the holly tree
Green twigs would pluck, as rapidly
Flung from her to the stream.
What means the Spectre? Why intent
To violate the Tree, 110
Thought Eglamore, by which I swore
Unfading constancy?
Here am I, and to-morrow's sun,
To her I left, shall prove
That bliss is ne'er so surely won 115
As when a circuit has been run
Of valour, truth, and love.
So from the spot whereon he stood,
He moved with stealthy pace;
And, drawing nigh, with his living eye,[982] 120
He recognised the face;
And whispers caught, and speeches small,
Some to the green-leaved tree,
Some muttered to the torrent-fall;—
"Roar on, and bring him with thy call; 125
I heard, and so may He!"
Soul-shattered was the Knight, nor knew
If Emma's Ghost[983] it were,
Or boding Shade, or if the Maid
Her very self stood there. 130
He touched; what followed who shall tell?
The soft touch snapped the thread
Of slumber—shrieking back she fell,
And the Stream whirled her down the dell
Along its foaming bed. 135
In plunged the Knight!—when on firm ground
The rescued Maiden lay,
Her eyes grew bright with blissful light,
Confusion passed away;
She heard, ere to the throne of grace 140
Her faithful Spirit flew,
His voice—beheld his speaking face;
And, dying, from his own embrace,
She felt that he was true.
So was he reconciled to life: 145
Brief words may speak the rest;[984]
Within the dell he built a cell,
And there was Sorrow's guest;
In hermits' weeds repose he found,
From vain temptations[985] free;[986] 150
Beside the torrent dwelling—bound
By one deep heart-controlling sound,
And awed to piety.
Wild stream of Aira, hold thy course,
Nor fear memorial lays, 155
Where clouds that spread in solemn shade,
Are edged with golden rays!
Dear art thou to the light of heaven,
Though minister of sorrow;
Sweet is thy voice at pensive even; 160
And thou, in lovers' hearts forgiven,
Shalt take thy place with Yarrow!
This poem was translated into Latin verse by the poet's son, and published in the second edition of Yarrow Revisited, and other Poems, 1835.—Ed.
FOOTNOTES:
[969] The original title of the Poem (in MS.) was
Aira Force,
or
Sir Eglamore and Elva.
There were no changes of text in the published editions of this poem. The various readings given are from MS. copies of the poem, in Mrs. Wordsworth's handwriting.—Ed.
[970] 1835.
'Tis sweet to stand by Lyulph's Tower
MS.
[971] A pleasure-house built by the late Duke of Norfolk upon the banks of Ullswater. Force is the word used in the Lake District for Waterfall.—W. W. 1835.
[972] Compare Airey-Force Valley—
the brook itself,
Old as the hills that feed it from afar,
Doth rather deepen than disturb the calm, etc.—Ed.
[973] 1835.
To rudest shepherd of the vale
The spot seems holy ground;
MS.
[974] 1835.
For he can catch....
MS.
[975] 1835.
Their true love's sanctity—
MS.
[976] 1835.
But in that age ...
MS.
[977] 1835.
... Elva ...
MS.
[978] 1835.
She, too, a happiness ...
MS.
[979] 1835.
... Elva ...
MS.
[980] See Macbeth, act IV. scene V.—Ed.
[981] 1835.
The knight, Sir Eglamore.
MS.
[982] 1835.
... with living eye,
MS.
[983] 1835.
If Elva's Ghost ...
MS.
[984] 1835.
In plunged the Knight—he strove in vain.
Brief words may speak the rest;
MS.
[985] 1835.
... temptation ...
MS.
[986] Compare the Ode to Duty, vol. iii. p. 37:—
From vain temptations dost set free—Ed.
XLVII
TO CORDELIA M——[987]
HALLSTEADS, ULLSWATER
Not in the mines beyond the western main,
You say, Cordelia,[988] was the metal sought,
Which a fine skill, of Indian growth, has wrought
Into this flexible yet faithful Chain;
Nor is it silver of romantic Spain 5
But from our loved Helvellyn's[989] depths was brought,
Our own domestic mountain. Thing and thought
Mix strangely; trifles light, and partly vain,
Can prop, as you have learnt, our nobler being:
Yes, Lady, while about your neck is wound 10
(Your casual glance oft meeting) this bright cord,
What witchery, for pure gifts of inward seeing,
Lurks in it, Memory's Helper, Fancy's Lord,
For precious tremblings in your bosom found!
FOOTNOTES:
[987] Cordelia Marshall.—Ed.
[988] 1845.
You tell me, Delia!... 1835.
[989] 1845.
You say but from Helvellyn's ... 1835.
XLVIII
"MOST SWEET IT IS WITH UNUPLIFTED EYES"[990]
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies[991]
Which he forbears again to look upon;
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene, 5
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone.[992]
If Thought and Love desert us, from that day
Let us break off all commerce with the Muse: 10
With Thought and Love companions of our way,
Whate'er the senses take or may refuse,
The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews
Of inspiration on the humblest lay.
FOOTNOTES:
[990] The title to this sonnet, in the editions previous to 1845, was Conclusion.
[991] 1835.
While round the conscious traveller beauty lies
MS.
[992] 1835.
Pleased rather with that soothing after-tone
Whose seat is in the mind, occasion's Queen!
Else Nature's noblest objects were I ween
A yoke endured, a penance undergone.
MS.