Set sail, was wreck’d, and all on board were lost.
Thus was the tenderest Poet that could be,
Who sang in antient Greece his loving lay,
Sav’d out of many by his piety.
1804
“NO WHIMSEY OF THE PURSE IS HERE”
Writing to Sir George Beaumont, on Christmas Day, 1804, Wordsworth said: “We have lately built in our little rocky orchard a circular hut, lined with moss, like a wren’s nest, and coated on the outside with heath, that stands most charmingly, with several views from the different sides of it, of the Lake, the Valley, and the Church.… I will copy a dwarf inscription which I wrote for it” (i.e. the circular hut, in his Orchard-Garden) “the other day before the building was entirely finished, which indeed it is not yet.”[376]—Ed.
No whimsey of the purse is here,
No pleasure-house forlorn;