TO THE LADY E. B. AND THE HON. MISS P.
Composed in the Grounds of Plass Newidd,[396] near Llangollen, 1824.
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
[In this Vale of Meditation my friend Jones resided, having been allowed by his diocesan to fix himself there without resigning his Living in Oxfordshire. He was with my wife and daughter and me when we visited these celebrated ladies who had retired, as one may say, into notice in this vale. Their cottage lay directly in the road between London and Dublin, and they were of course visited by their Irish friends as well as innumerable strangers. They took much delight in passing jokes on our friend Jones's plumpness, ruddy cheeks and smiling countenance, as little suited to a hermit living in the Vale of Meditation. We all thought there was ample room for retort on his part, so curious was the appearance of these ladies, so elaborately sentimental about themselves and their Caro Albergo as they named it in an inscription on a tree that stood opposite, the endearing epithet being preceded by the word Ecco! calling upon the saunterer to look about him. So oddly was one of these ladies attired that we took her, at a little distance, for a Roman Catholic priest, with a crucifix and relics hung at his neck. They were without caps, their hair bushy and white as snow, which contributed to the mistake.—I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
A Stream, to mingle with your favourite Dee,
Along the Vale of Meditation[397] flows;
So styled by those fierce Britons, pleased to see
In Nature's face the expression of repose;
Or haply there some pious hermit chose 5
To live and die, the peace of heaven his aim;
To whom the wild sequestered region owes,
At this late day, its sanctifying name.
Glyn Cafaillgaroch, in the Cambrian tongue,
In ours, the Vale of Friendship, let this spot 10
Be named; where, faithful to a low-roofed Cot,
On Deva's banks, ye have abode so long;
Sisters in love, a love allowed to climb,
Even on this earth, above the reach of Time!
FOOTNOTES:
[396] Plass Newidd is close to Llangollen, a small cottage a quarter of a mile to the south of the town. The ladies referred to in the Fenwick note, Lady Eleanor Butler and the Hon. Miss Ponsonby, formed a romantic attachment; and, having an extreme love of independence, they withdrew from society, and settled in this remote and secluded cottage. Lady Butler died in 1829, aged ninety, and Miss Ponsonby in 1831, aged seventy-six, their faithful servant, Mary Caroll, having predeceased them. The three are buried in the same grave in Llangollen Churchyard, and an inscription to the memory of each is carved on a triangular pillar beside their tomb.
In a letter to Sir George Beaumont from Hindwell, Radnorshire, Wordsworth gives an account of this tour in North Wales.... "We turned from the high-road three or four miles to visit the 'Valley of Meditation' (Glyn Myvyr), where Mr. Jones has, at present, a curacy with a comfortable parsonage. We slept at Corwen, and went down the Dee to Llangollen, which you and dear Lady B. know well. Called upon the celebrated Recluses, who hoped that you and Lady B. had not forgotten them.... Next day I sent them the following sonnet from Ruthin, which was conceived, and in a great measure composed, in their grounds." Compare Sir Walter Scott's account of his visit to these Ladies in 1825 (Lockhart's Life of Scott, vol. viii. pp. 48, 49).—Ed.
[397] Glyn Myvyr.—W. W. The word is misspelt in most of the editions.—Ed.
TO THE TORRENT AT THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE,[398] NORTH WALES, 1824
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
How art thou named? In search of what strange land,
From what huge height, descending? Can such force
Of waters issue from a British source,[399]
Or hath not Pindus fed thee,[400] where the band
Of Patriots scoop their freedom out, with hand 5
Desperate as thine? Or come the incessant shocks
From that young Stream,[401] that smites the throbbing rocks
Of Viamala? There I seem to stand,
As in life's morn; permitted to behold,
From the dread chasm, woods climbing above woods, 10
In pomp that fades not; everlasting snows;
And skies that ne'er relinquish their repose;
Such power possess the family of floods
Over the minds of Poets, young or old!
FOOTNOTES:
[398] The Devil's Bridge in North Wales is at Hafod, near Aberystwyth, in Cardiganshire. Like the Teufelsbrücke, on the road from Göschenen to Airola, over the St. Gotthard in Switzerland, which spans the Reuss, the Devil's Bridge in Wales is double; i.e. an upper and an under bridge span the river Mynach. This Pont-y-Mynach was built either by the monks of Strata Florida, or by the Knights Hospitallers.
In the letter to Sir George Beaumont, referred to in a previous note, Wordsworth writes: "We went up the Rhydiol to the Devil's Bridge, where we passed the following day in exploring these two rivers, and Hafod in the neighbourhood. I had seen these things long ago, but either my memory or my powers of observation had not done them justice. It rained heavily in the night, and we saw the waterfalls in perfection. While Dora was attempting to make a sketch from the chasm in the rain, I composed by her side the following address to the torrent,
How art thou named? etc."—Ed.
[399] There are several consecutive falls on the river Mynach, at the Devil's Bridge, the longest being one of 114 feet, and the whole taken together amounting to 314 feet.—Ed.
[400] The lofty ridge of mountains in northern Greece between Thessaly and Epirus, which, like the Apennines in Italy, form the back-bone of the country.—Ed.
[401] The Rhine. The Via Mala is the gorge between Thusis and Zillis, near the source of the Rhine. Compare Descriptive Sketches (vol. i. p. 46)—
Or, led where Via Mala's chasms confine
The indignant waters of the infant Rhine.—Ed.
[COMPOSED AMONG THE RUINS OF A CASTLE IN NORTH WALES]
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Through shattered galleries, 'mid roofless halls,
Wandering with timid footsteps[402] oft betrayed,
The Stranger sighs, nor scruples to upbraid
Old Time, though he, gentlest among the Thralls
Of Destiny, upon these wounds hath laid 5
His lenient touches, soft as light that falls,
From the wan Moon, upon the towers and walls,
Light deepening the profoundest sleep of shade.
Relic of Kings! Wreck of forgotten wars,
To winds abandoned and the prying stars, 10
Time loves Thee! at his call the Seasons twine
Luxuriant wreaths around thy forehead hoar;
And, though past pomp no changes can restore,
A soothing recompense, his gift, is thine![403]
FOOTNOTES:
[402] 1837.
... footstep ... 1827.
[403] Compare The White Doe of Rylstone, canto i. ll. 118, 119 (vol. iv. p. 110)—
Nature, softening and concealing,
And busy with a hand of healing.
This was doubtless Carnarvon Castle, which Wordsworth visited in September 1824, at the close of his three weeks' ramble in North Wales, of which he wrote to Sir George Beaumont, "We employed several hours in exploring the interior of the noble castle, and looking at it from different points of view in the neighbourhood."—Ed.