Wide were his aims, yet in no human breast
Could private feelings find a holier nest.
His joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud
From Skiddaw’s top; but he to Heaven was vowed
Through a long life, and calmed by Christian faith,
In his pure soul, the fear of change and death.
This Memorial was erected by friends of Robert Southey.
Edward Quillinan wrote, 25th March 1843, “Yesterday I drove Mr. Wordsworth early over to Keswick, that he and I might attend the funeral of Mr. Southey, who was buried in Crosthwaite churchyard there at eleven A.M. It was very affecting to see Kate Southey with her brother Cuthbert, and brother-in-law Herbert Hill, at her father’s grave as the coffin was lowered into it. She looked as if she yearned to be there too. She says she has now got her father back again.”—Ed.
TO THE REV. CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH, D.D., MASTER OF HARROW SCHOOL[271]
After the perusal of his Theophilus Anglicanus, recently published.
Composed 1843.—Published 1845