The ripening corn beneath it. As mine eyes
Turn from the fortified and threatening hill,
How sweet the prospect of yon watery glade,
With its grey rocks clustering in pensive shade—
That, shaped like old monastic turrets, rise
From the smooth meadow-ground, serene and still!
The following extract from Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal illustrates this sonnet, and explains the Fenwick note. The "long entertained" "wish" of the poet, expressed in that note, has never yet been accomplished. It may be realised in one of the volumes which follow, in this edition.
"July 18. Departure from Namur, road out of the town beautiful, wide, disk-like valley, gardens, groves, town standing upon its two rivers. Ramparts towering above, very impressive to cast the eyes back upon. Market people flocking in in groups, variety of dresses, of all gay colours. Flowers seem to be the delight of the peasantry. They are worn in their hats, upon their breasts, carried in the mouth when their hands are at work sometimes, or stuck behind the ear. Road excellent all the way down the Meuse. Villages in all situations,—among the rocks, now one peeps out of a recess, again another upon a knoll with its spire rising from among trees. More and more beautiful as you proceed down the river—rocks on the banks of the most fantastic forms, something like those on the Wye. Sometimes the valley reminded us of the trough of the Clyde. Huy. Church handsome, the high tower struck by lightning fourteen years ago; new fortifications, most picturesque and romantic situation. Crossed the Meuse here, charming view from the bridge.... Road very delightful, rocks, woods, chateau, convent, vineyards, hanging gardens, orchards with profusion of fruit, shrubs, and flowers, and corn lands, all in the most luxuriant state. So beautiful a day's journey I never before travelled."
The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.:—"Tuesday, July 18. Namur.—Having traversed the Vale, we travel downwards, with the stately, though muddy, river to our left—pass under limestone rocks resembling abbeys or castles—the opening prospect still presenting something new. Backwards, a noble view of the vale, terminated by the city and fortifications of Namur at the distance of, perhaps, two miles or more—our last farewell view! Still, as we go on, the rocks change their shapes, in prospect far off; or as we roll swiftly away beneath them. Villages not to be numbered by the hasty traveller, rise up, with spires and towers; cottages embowered in gardens and orchards, and sometimes an old chateau or modern villa. All these (in succession or together) vary the scene, while, the abundance of flowers, fruit, vegetables, and corn, interbedded and intermingled, give an image of plenty and happy industry."—Ed.