TO ROTHA Q——
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
[Rotha, the daughter of my son-in-law, Mr. Quillinan.—I. F.]
Rotha, my Spiritual Child! this head was grey
When at the sacred font for thee I stood;
Pledged till thou reach the verge of womanhood,
And shalt become thy own sufficient stay:
Too late, I feel, sweet Orphan, was the day 5
For stedfast hope the contract to fulfil;
Yet shall my blessing hover o'er thee still,
Embodied in the music of this Lay,
Breathed forth beside the peaceful mountain Stream[488]
Whose murmur soothed thy languid Mother's ear 10
After her throes, this Stream of name more dear
Since thou dost bear it,—a memorial theme[489]
For others; for thy future self, a spell
To summon fancies out of Time's dark cell.[490]
FOOTNOTES:
[488] The river Rotha, which flows into Windermere from the lakes of Grasmere and Rydal.—Ed.
[489] 1827.
... whose name is thine to bear
Hanging around thee a memorial theme MS.
[490] Compare the poem on the Borrowdale Yew Trees.—Ed.
TO ——, IN HER SEVENTIETH YEAR[491]
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
[Lady Fitzgerald, as described to me by Lady Beaumont.—I.F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Such age how beautiful! O Lady bright,
Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined
By favouring Nature and a saintly Mind
To something purer and more exquisite
Than flesh and blood; whene'er thou meet'st my sight,
When I behold thy blanched unwithered cheek, 6
Thy temples fringed with locks of gleaming white,
And head that droops because the soul is meek,
Thee with the welcome Snowdrop I compare;
That child of winter, prompting thoughts that climb 10
From desolation toward[492] the genial prime;
Or with the Moon conquering earth's misty air,
And filling more and more with crystal light
As pensive Evening deepens into night.[493]
FOOTNOTES:
[491] 1832.
To ——, 1827.
[492] 1832.
... tow'rds ... 1827.
[493] Another version of this sonnet is given in a letter from Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont:—
Lady, what delicate graces may unite
In age—so often comfortless and bleak!
Though from thy unenfeebled eye-balls break
Those saintly emanations of delight,
A snow-drop let me name thee; pure, chaste, white,
Too pure for flesh and blood; with smooth, blanch'd cheek,
And head that droops because the soul is meek,
And not that Time presses with weary weight.
Hope, Love, and Joy are with thee fresh as fair;
A Child of Winter prompting thoughts that climb
From desolation towards the genial prime:
Or, like the moon, conquering the misty air
And filling more and more with chrystal light,
As pensive evening deepens into night.—Ed.
["IN MY MIND'S EYE A TEMPLE, LIKE A CLOUD"]
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
In my mind's eye a Temple, like a cloud
Slowly surmounting some invidious hill,
Rose out of darkness: the bright Work stood still;
And might of its own beauty have been proud,
But it was fashioned and to God was vowed 5
By Virtues that diffused, in every part,
Spirit divine through forms of human art:
Faith had her arch—her arch, when winds blow loud,
Into the consciousness of safety thrilled;
And Love her towers of dread foundation laid 10
Under the grave of things; Hope had her spire
Star-high, and pointing still to something higher;
Trembling I gazed, but heard a voice—it said,
"Hell-gates are powerless Phantoms when we build."
["GO BACK TO ANTIQUE AGES, IF THINE EYES"]
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."—Ed.
Go back to antique ages, if thine eyes
The genuine mien and character would trace
Of the rash Spirit that still holds her place,
Prompting the world's audacious vanities!
Go back, and see[494] the Tower of Babel rise; 5
The pyramid extend its monstrous base,
For some Aspirant of our short-lived race,
Anxious an aery name to immortalize.
There, too, ere wiles and politic dispute
Gave specious colouring to aim and act, 10
See the first mighty Hunter leave the brute—
To chase mankind, with men in armies packed
For his field-pastime high and absolute,
While, to dislodge his game, cities are sacked!
FOOTNOTES:
[494] 1837.
See, at her call, ... 1827.
["IF THOU INDEED DERIVE THY LIGHT FROM HEAVEN"]
Published 1827
[These verses were written some time after we had become residents at Rydal Mount, and I will take occasion from them to observe upon the beauty of that situation, as being backed and flanked by lofty fells, which bring the heavenly bodies to touch, as it were, the earth upon the mountain-tops, while the prospect in front lies open to a length of level valley, the extended lake, and a terminating ridge of low hills; so that it gives an opportunity to the inhabitants of the place of noticing the stars in both the positions here alluded to, namely, on the tops of the mountains, and as winter-lamps at a distance among the leafless trees.—I. F.]
If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven,
Then, to the measure of that heaven-born light,
Shine, Poet![495] in thy place, and be content:—
The stars pre-eminent in magnitude,
And they that from the zenith dart their beams,[496] 5
(Visible though they[497] be to half the earth,
Though half a sphere be conscious of their brightness)
Are[498] yet of no diviner origin,
No purer essence, than the one that burns,
Like an untended watch-fire, on the ridge 10
Of some dark mountain; or than those which seem
Humbly to hang, like twinkling winter lamps,
Among the branches of the leafless trees;
All are the undying offspring of one Sire:
Then, to the measure of the light vouchsafed, 15
Shine, Poet! in thy place, and be content.[499]
These lines, first published in 1827, found a place in the edition of that year, amongst the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection." In the edition of 1845 they appeared as a Preface to the entire volume of Poems.—Ed.
FOOTNOTES:
[495] 1837.
... from Heaven,
Shine, Poet, ... 1827.
[496] 1837.
The Star that from the zenith darts its beams, 1827.
[497] 1837.
... it ... 1827.
[498] 1837.
... its brightness,
Is ... 1827.
[499] The last three lines were added in 1837.—Ed.
IN THE WOODS OF RYDAL[500]
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Wild Redbreast![501] hadst them at Jemima's lip[502]
Pecked, as at mine, thus boldly, Love might say[503]
A half-blown rose had tempted thee to sip
Its glistening dews: but hallowed is the clay
Which the Muse warms; and I, whose head is grey,[504] 5
Am not unworthy of thy fellowship;
Nor could I let one thought—one motion—slip
That might thy sylvan confidence betray.
For are we not all His without whose care
Vouchsafed no sparrow falleth to the ground?[505] 10
Who gives his Angels wings to speed through air,
And rolls the planets through the blue profound;
Then peck or perch, fond Flutterer! nor forbear
To trust a Poet in still musings bound.[506]
FOOTNOTES:
[500] The original title (in MS.) was "To a Redbreast." In the Woods of Rydal was added in 1836.—Ed.
[501] This Sonnet, as Poetry, explains itself, yet the scene of the incident having been a wild wood, it may be doubted, as a point of natural history, whether the bird was aware that his attentions were bestowed upon a human, or even a living creature. But a Redbreast will perch upon the foot of a gardener at work, and alight on the handle of the spade when his hand is half upon it,—this I have seen. And under my own roof I have witnessed affecting instances of the creature's friendly visits to the chambers of sick persons, as described in the verses to the Redbreast. One of these welcome intruders used frequently to roost upon a nail in the wall, from which a picture had hung, and was ready, as morning came, to pipe his song in the hearing of the Invalid, who had been long confined to her room. These attachments to a particular person, when marked and continued, used to be reckoned ominous; but the superstition is passing away.—W. W. 1827.
[502] Jemima Quillinan.—Ed.
[503] 1837.
Strange visitation! at Jemima's lip
Thus hadst thou pecked, wild Redbreast! Love might say, 1827.
[504] 1827.
That the Muse warms; and I, though old and grey, MS.
[505] Compare The Ancient Mariner, Part vii., stanza 23.—Ed.
[506] 1837.
... vision bound. 1827.
CONCLUSION
TO ——[507]
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
If these brief Records, by the Muses' art
Produced as lonely Nature or the strife
That animates the scenes of public life[508]
Inspired, may in thy leisure claim a part;
And if these Transcripts of the private heart 5
Have gained a sanction from thy falling tears;
Then I repent not. But my soul hath fears
Breathed from eternity; for as a dart
Cleaves the blank air, Life flies: now every day
Is but a glimmering spoke in the swift wheel 10
Of the revolving week. Away, away,
All fitful cares, all transitory zeal!
So timely Grace the immortal wing may heal,
And honour rest upon the senseless clay.
FOOTNOTES:
[507] I have been unable to discover to whom this Conclusion was addressed. It may have been to his daughter.—Ed.
[508] This line alludes to Sonnets which will be found in another Class.—W. W. 1837.
He refers to the sonnets on Liberty, etc.—Ed.