When my soul ...
MS. letter to Sir George Beaumont.]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Which ... 1807.]
* * * * *
FROM THE SAME. TO THE SUPREME BEING
Translated 1804?--Published 1807
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--Ed.
III
The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed
If Thou the spirit give by which I pray:
My unassisted heart is barren clay,
That [1] of its native self can nothing feed:
Of good and pious works thou art the seed, 5
That [2] quickens only where thou say'st it may.
Unless Thou shew to us thine own true way
No man can find it: Father! Thou must lead.
Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mind
By which such virtue may in me be bred 10
That in thy holy footsteps I may tread;
The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind,
That I may have the power to sing of thee,
And sound thy praises everlastingly.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1827.
Which ... 1807.]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Which ... 1807.]
The sonnet from which the above is translated, is not wholly by Michael
Angelo, the sculptor and painter, but is taken from patched-up versions
of his poem by his nephew of the same name. Michael Angelo only wrote
the first eight lines, and these have been garbled in his nephew's
edition. The original lines are thus given by Guasti in his edition of
Michael Angelo's Poems (1863) restored to their true reading, from the
autograph MSS. in Rome and Florence.
Imperfect Sonnet transcribed from "Le Rime di Michelangelo Buonarroti
Cavate dagli Autografi da Cesare Guasti. Firenze. 1863."
SONNET LXXXIX. [Vatican].
Ben sarien dolce le preghiere mie,
Se virtù mi prestassi da pregarte:
Nel mio fragil terren non è già parte
Da frutto buon, che da sè nato sie.
Tu sol se' seme d' opre caste e pie,
Che là germoglian dove ne fa' parte:
Nessun proprio valor può seguitarte,
Se no gli mostri le tue sante vie.
The lines are thus paraphrased in prose by the Editor:
Le mie preghiere sarebbero grate, se tu mi prestassi quella virtù che
rende efficace il pregare: ma io sono un terreno sterile, in cui non
nasce spontaneamente frutto che sia buono. Tu solamente sei seme di
opere caste e pie, le quali germogliano là dove tu ti spargi: e
nessuna virtù vi ha che da per se possa venirti dietro, se tu stesso
non le mostri le vie che conducono al bene, e che sono le tue....
The Sonnet as published by the Nephew is as follows:
Ben sarian dolci le preghiere mie,
Se virtù mi prestassi da pregarte:
Nel mio terreno infertil non è parte
Da produr frutto di virtu natie.
Tu il seme se' dell' opre giuste e pie,
Che là germoglian dove ne fai parte:
Nessun proprio valor puo seguitarte,
Se non gli mostri le tue belle vie.
Tu nella mente mia pensieri infondi,
Che producano in me si vivi effetti,
Signor, ch' io segua i tuoi vestigi santi.
E dalla lingua mia chiari, e facondi
Sciogli della tua gloria ardenti detti,
Perche sempre io ti lodi, esalti, e canti.
('Le Rime di Michelangelo Buonarroti, Pittore, Scultor e Architetto
cavate degli autografi, e pubblicate da Cesare Guasti'. Firenze,
1863.)-Ed.
* * * * *
APPENDIX.
NOTE I
"POEMS ON THE NAMING OF PLACES"
'When, to the attractions of the busy world', p. 66
The following variants occur in a MS. Book containing 'Yew Trees',
'Artegal' and 'Elidure', 'Laodamia', 'Black Comb,' etc.--Ed.
When from the restlessness of crowded life
Back to my native vales I turned, and fixed
My habitation in this peaceful spot,
Sharp season was it of continuous storm
In deepest winter; and, from week to week,
Pathway, and lane, and public way were clogged
With frequent showers of snow ...
When first attracted by this happy Vale
Hither I came, among old Shepherd Swains
To fix my habitation,'t was a time
Of deepest winter, and from week to week
Pathway, and lane, and public way were clogged
When to the { cares and pleasures of the world
{ attractions of the busy world
Preferring {ease and liberty } I chose
{peace and liberty } I chose
{studious leisure I had chosen
A habitation in this peaceful vale
Sharp season {was it of } continuous storm
{followed by } continuous storm
* * * * *
NOTE II.--THE HAWKSHEAD BECK
(See pp. 188-89, 'The Prelude', book iv.)
Mr. Rawnsley, formerly of Wray Vicarage--now Canon Rawnsley of
Crosthwaite Vicarage, Keswick--sent me the following letter in reference
to:
... that unruly child of mountain birth,
The famous brook, who, soon as he was boxed
Within our garden, found himself at once,
As if by trick insidious and unkind,
Stripped of his voice and left to dimple down
...
I looked at him and smiled, and smiled again,
...
'Ha,' quoth I, 'pretty prisoner, are you there!'
"I was not quite content with Dr. Cradock's identification of this
brook, or of the garden; partly because, beyond the present garden
square I found, on going up the brook, other garden squares, which
were much more likely to have been the garden belonging to Anne
Tyson's cottage, and because in these garden plots the stream was not
'stripped of his voice,' by the covering of Coniston flags, as is the
case lower down towards the market place; and partly because--as you
notice--you can both hear and see the stream through the interstices
of the flags, and that it can hardly be described (by one who will
listen) as stripped of its voice.
At the same time I was bound to admit that in comparing the voice of
the stream here in the 'channel paved by man's officious care' with
the sound of it up in the fields beyond the vicarage, nearer its
birth-place, it certainly might be said to be softer voiced; and as
the poet speaks of it as 'that unruly child of mountain birth,' it
looks as if he too had realised the difference.
But whilst I thought that the identification of Dr. Cradock and
yourself was very happy (in absence of other possibilities), I had not
thought that Wordsworth would describe the stream as 'dimpling down,'
or address it as a 'pretty prisoner.' A smaller stream seemed
necessary.
It was, therefore, not a little curious that, in poking about among
the garden plots on the west bank of the stream, fronting (as nearly
as I could judge) Anne Tyson's cottage, to seek for remains of the ash
tree, in which so often the poet--as he lay awake on summer
nights--had watched 'the moon in splendour couched among the leaves,'
rocking 'with every impulse of the breeze,' I not only stumbled upon
the remains of an ash tree--now a 'pollard'--which is evidently
sprung from a larger tree since decayed (and which for all I know may
be one of the actual parts of the ancient tree itself); but also had
the good luck to fall into conversation with a certain Isaac Hodgson,
who volunteered the following information.
First, that Wordsworth, it was commonly said, had lodged part of his
time with one Betty Braithwaite, in the very house called Church Hill
House.
She was a widow, and kept a confectionery shop, and 'did a deal of
baking,' he believed.
Secondly, that there was a little patch of garden at the back of the
house, with a famous spring well--still called Old Betty's Well--in
it, and that only a few paces from where I was then standing by the
pollard ash.
On jumping over the fence I found myself on the western side of the
quaint old Church Hill House, with magnificent views of the whole of
the western side of Hawkshead Vale; grassy swell and wooded rises
taking the eye up to the moorland ridge between us and Coniston.
'But,' said I, 'what about Betty's Well.' 'Oh,' said my friend,
'that's a noted spring, that never freezes, and always runs; we all
drink of it, and neighbours send to it. Here it is,' he continued;
and, gazing down, I saw a little dripping well of water, lustrous,
clear, coming evidently in continuous force from the springs or secret
channels up hill, pausing for a moment at the trough, thence falling
into a box or 'channel paved by man's officious care,' and in a moment
out of sight and soundless, to pursue its way, 'stripped of its
voice,' towards the main Town beck, that ran at the north-east border
of the garden plot. 'Ha, pretty prisoner,' and the words 'dimple down'
came to my mind at once as appropriate. 'Old Betty's Well gave the
key-note of the 'famous brook'; and 'boxed within our garden' seemed
an appropriate and exact description.
Trace of
'the sunny seat
Round the stone table under the dark pine,'
was there none. Not so, however, the Ash tree, the remains of which I
have spoken of. From the bedroom of Betty Braithwaite's house the boy
could have watched the moon,
'while to and fro
In the dark summit of the waving tree
She rocked with every impulse of the breeze.'
'In old times,' said my friend, 'the wall fence ran across the garden,
just beyond this spring well, so you see it was but a small spot, was
this garden close.' Yes; but the
'crowd of things
About its narrow precincts all beloved,'
were known the better, and loved the more on that account. Certainly,
thought I to myself, here is the famous spring; a brook that
Wordsworth must have known, and that may have been the centre of
memory to him in his description of those early Hawkshead days, with
its metaphor of fountain life.
May we not, as we gaze on this little fountain well, in a garden plot
at the back of one of the grey huts of this 'one dear vale,' point as
with a wand, and say,
'This portion of the river of his mind
Came from yon fountain.'
Is it not possible that the old dame whose
'Clear though shallow stream of piety,
Ran on the Sabbath days a fresher course,'
was Betty Braithwaite, the aged dame who owned the cottage hard by?"
The following additional extract from a letter of Mr. Rawnsley's
(Christmas, 1882) casts light, both on the Hawkshead beck and fountain,
and on the stone seat in the market square, referred to in the fourth
book of 'The Prelude'.
"Postlethwaite of the Sun Inn at Hawkshead, has a father aged 82, who
can remember that there was a _stone_ bench, not called old Betty's,
but Old Jane's Stone, on which she used to spread nuts and cakes for
the scholars of the Grammar School, but that it did not stand where
the Market Hall now is, and no one ever remembers a stone or
stone-bench standing there. This stone or stone-bench stood about
opposite the Red Lion inn, in front of the little row of houses that
run east and west, just as you pass out of the village in a northerly
direction by the Red Lion. This stone or stone-bench is not associated
with dark pine trees, but they may have passed away root and branch in
an earlier generation.
Next and most interesting, I think, as showing that I was right in the
matter of the _famous fountain,_ or spring in the garden, behind Betty
Braithwaite's house. There exists in Hawkshead near this house a
covered-in place or shed, to which all the village repair for their
drinking-water, and always have done so. It is known by the name of
the Spout House, and the water--which flows all the year from a
longish spout, with an overflow one by its side--comes direct from the
little drop well in Betty B.'s garden, after having its voice stripped
and boxed therein; and, falling out of the spout into a deep stone
basin and culvert, runs through the town to join the Town Beck.
So wedded are the Hawkshead folk to this, their familiar fountainhead,
that though water is supplied in stand-pipes now from a Reservoir, the
folks won't have it, and come here to this spout-house, bucket and jug
in hand, morn, noon and night. I have never seen anything so like a
continental scene at the gathering at Hawkshead spout-house.
Lastly, there is a very aged thorn-tree in the churchyard--blown over
but propped up--in which the forefathers of the hamlet used to sit as
boys (in the thorn, that is, not the churchyard), and which has been
worn smooth by many Hawkshead generations. The tradition is, that
_Wordsworth used to sit a deal in it when at school._"
Ed.
* * * * *
NOTE III.--THE HAWKSHEAD MORNING WALK: SUMMER VACATION
(See p. 197, 'The Prelude', book iv. ll. 323-38)
If the farm-house where Wordsworth spent the evening before this
memorable morning walk was either at Elterwater or High Arnside, and the
homeward pathway led across the ridge of Ironkeld, either by the old
mountain road (now almost disused), or over the pathless fells, there
are two points from either of which the sea might be seen in the
distance. The one is from the heights looking down to the Duddon
estuary, across the Coniston valley; the other is from a spot nearer
Hawkshead, where Morecambe Bay is visible. In the former case "the
meadows and the lower grounds" would be those in Yewdale; in the latter
case, they would be those between Latterbarrow and Hawkshead; and, on
either alternative, the "solid mountains" would be those of the Coniston
group--the Old Man and Wetherlam. It is also possible that the course of
the walk was over the Latterbarrow fells, or heights of Colthouse; but,
from the reference to the sunrise "not unseen" from the copse and field,
through which the "homeward pathway wound," it may be supposed that the
course was south-east, and therefore not over these fells, when his back
would have been to the sun. Dr. Cradock's note [Footnote T to book iv]
to the text (p. 197) sums up all that can "be safely said"; but Mr.
Rawnsley has supplied me with the following interesting remarks:
"After a careful reading of the passage describing the poet's return
from a festal night, spent in some farm-house beyond the hills, I am
quite unable to say that the path from High Arnside over the Ironkeld
range entirely suits the description. Is it not possible that the lad
had school-fellows whose parents lived in Yewdale? If he had, and was
returning from the party in one of the Yewdale farms, he would, as he
ascended towards Tarn Howes, and faced about south, to gain the main
Coniston road, by traversing the meadows between Berwick ground and
the top of the Hawkshead and Coniston Hill, command a view of the sea
that 'lay laughing at a distance'; and 'near, the solid
mountains'--Wetherlam and Coniston Old Man--would shine 'bright as the
clouds.' I think this is likely to have been the poet's track, because
he speaks of labourers going forth to till the fields; and the Yewdale
valley is one that is (at its head) chiefly arable, so that he would
be likelier to have gazed on them there than in the vale of Hawkshead
itself. One is here, however--as in a former passage, when we fixed on
Yewdale as the one described as being a 'cultured vale'--obliged to
remember that in Wordsworth's boyhood wheat was grown more extensively
than is now the case in these parts. Of course, the Furness Fell,
above Colthouse, might have been the scene. It is eminently suited to
the description."
Ed.
* * * * *
NOTE IV.--DOROTHY WORDSWORTH AT CAMBRIDGE IN 1808. THE ASH TREE AT ST.
JOHN'S COLLEGE
(See p. 224, 'The Prelude', book vi. ll. 76-94)
The following is an extract from a letter of Dorothy Wordsworth's to
Lady Beaumont at Coleorton, dated "14th August," probably in 1808:
"We reached Cambridge at half-past nine. In our way to the Inn we
stopped at the gate of St. John's College to set down one of our
passengers. The stopping of the carriage roused me from a sleepy
musing, and I was awe-stricken with the solemnity of the old gateway,
and the light from a great distance within streaming along the
pavement. When they told me it was the entrance to 'St. John's'
College, I was still more affected by the gloomy yet beautiful sight
before me, for I thought of my dearest brother in his youthful days
passing through that gateway to his home, and I could have believed
that I saw him there even then, as I had seen him in the first year of
his residence. I met with Mr. Clarkson at the Inn, and was, you may
believe, rejoiced to hear his voice at the coach door. We supped
together, and immediately after supper I went to bed, and slept well,
and at 8 o'clock next morning went to Trinity Chapel. There I stood
for many minutes in silence before the statue of Newton, while the
organ sounded. I never saw a statue that gave me one hundredth part so
much pleasure--but pleasure, that is not the word, it is a sublime
sensation--in harmony with sentiments of devotion to the Divine Being,
and reverence for the holy places where He is worshipped. We walked in
the groves all the morning and visited the Colleges. I sought out a
favourite ash tree which my brother speaks of in his poem on his own
life--a tree covered with ivy. We dined with a fellow of Peter-House
in his rooms, and after dinner I went to King's College Chapel. There,
and everywhere else at Cambridge, I was even much more impressed with
the effect of the buildings than I had been formerly, and I do believe
that this power of receiving an enlarged enjoyment from the sight of
buildings is one of the privileges of our later years. I have this
moment received a letter from William...."
Ed.
* * * * *
NOTE V.--"THE MEETING-POINT OF TWO HIGHWAYS"
(See p. 353, 'The Prelude', book xii. l. 293)
The following extract from a letter of Mr. Rawnsley's casts important
light on a difficult question of localization. Dr. Cradock is inclined
now to select the Outgate Crag, the second of the four places referred
to by Mr. Rawnsley. But the first may have been the place, and the
extract which follows will show how much is yet to be done in this
matter of localizing poetical allusions.
"As to
'the crag,
That, from the meeting-point of two highways
Ascending, overlooked them both, far stretched,'
there seems to be no doubt but that we have four competitors for the
honour of being the place to which the poet:
'impatient for the sight
Of those led palfreys that should bear them home'
repaired with his brothers
'one Christmas-time,
On the glad eve of its dear holidays.'
And unless, as it seems is quite possible, from what one sees in other
of Wordsworth's poems, he really stood on one of the crags, and then
in his description drew the picture of the landscape at his feet from
his memory of what it was as seen from another of the vantage places,
we need a high crag, rising gradually or abruptly from the actual
meeting-place of two highways, with, if possible at this distance of
time, a wall--or traces of it--quite at its summit. (I may mention
that the wallers in this country still give two hundred years as the
length of time that a dry wall will stand.) We need also traces of an
old thorn tree close by. The wall, too, must be so placed on the
summit of the crag that, as it faces the direction in which the lad is
looking for his palfrey, it shall afford shelter to him against
'the sleety rain,
And all the business of the elements.'
It is evident that the lad would be looking out in a north-easterly
direction, i. e. towards the head of Windermere and Ambleside. So that
'the mist,
That on the line of each of those two roads
Advanced in such indisputable shapes,'
was urged by a wind that found the poet at his look-out station, glad
to have the wall between him and it. Further, there must be in close
proximity wood and the sound of rushing water, or the lapping of a
lake wind-driven against the marge, for the boy remembers that 'the
bleak music from that old stone wall' was mingled with 'the noise of
wood and water.' The roads spoken of must be two highways, and must be
capable of being seen for some distance; unless, as it is just
possible, the epithet 'far-stretched' may be taken as applying not so
much to the roads, as to the gradual ascent of the crag from the
meeting-place of the two highways.
The scene from the crag must be extended, and half plain half
wood-land; at least one gathers as much from the lines:
'as the mist
Gave intermitting prospect of the copse
And plain beneath.'
Lastly, it was a day of driving sleet and mist, and this of itself
would necessitate that the poet and his brothers should only go to the
place close to which the ponies must pass, or from which most plainly
the roads were visible.
The boys too were
'feverish, and tired, and restless,'
and a schoolboy, to gain his point on such a day and on such an
errand, does not take much account of a mile of country to be
travelled over.
So that it is immaterial, I think, to make the distance from Hawkshead
of either of the four crags or vantage grounds a factor in decision.
The farther the lads were from home when they met their ponies, the
longer ride back they would have, and this to schoolboys is matter of
consideration at such times.
Taking then a survey of the ground of choice, we have to decide
whether the crag in question is situated at the first division or main
split of the road from Ambleside furthest from Hawkshead, or whether
at the place where the two roads converge again into one nearer
Hawkshead.
Whether, that is, the crag above the Pullwyke quarry, at the junction
of the road to Water Barngates and the road to Wray and Outgate is to
be selected, about two miles from Hawkshead; or whether we are to fix
on the spot you have chosen, at the point about a mile north-east of
Hawkshead, 'called in the ordnance map Outgate.'
Of the two I incline to the former, for these reasons. The boys could
not be so certain of 'not missing the ponies', at any other place than
here at Pullwyke.
The crag exactly answers the poet's description, a rising ground, the
meeting-place of two highways. For in the poet's time the old
Hawkshead and Outgate road at the Pullwyke corner ran at the very foot
of the rising ground (roughly speaking) parallel to and some 60 to 100
yards west of the present road from the Pull to Wray.
It is true that no trace of wall is visible at its summit, but the
summit has been planted since with trees, and walls are often removed
at time of planting.
The poet would have a full view of the main road, down to, and round,
the Pullwyke Bay; he would see the branch road from the fork, as it
mounted the Water Barngates Hill, to the west, and would see the other
road of the fork far-stretched and going south.
He would also have an extended view of copse and meadow land. He
might, if the wind were south-easterly, hear the noise of Windermere,
sobbing in the Pullwyke Bay, and would without doubt hear also the
roar of the Pull Beck water, as it passed down from the Ironkeld
slopes on his left towards the lake.
It might be objected that the poem gives us the idea of a crag which,
from the Hawkshead side at any rate, would require to be of more
difficult ascent than this is, to justify the idea of difficulty as
suggested in the lines:
'thither I repaired,
Scout-like, and gained the summit;'
but I do not think we need read more into the lines than that the boy
felt--as he scanned the country with his eyes, on the 'qui vive' at
every rise in the ground--the feelings of a scout, who questions
constantly the distant prospect.
And certainly the Pullwyke quarry crag rises most steeply from the
meeting-point of the two highways.
Next as to the Outgate crag, which you have chosen. I am out of love
with it. First, if the lads wanted to make sure of the ponies, they
would not have ascended it, but would have stayed just at the
Hawkshead side of Outgate, or at the village itself, at the point of
convergence of the ways.
Secondly, the crag can hardly be described as rising from the
meeting-point of two highways; only one highway passes near it.
The crag is of so curious a formation geologically, that I can't fancy
the poet describing his memory of it, without calling it a terraced
hill, or an ascent by natural terraces.
Then, again, the prospect is not sufficiently extended from it. The
stream not near enough, or rather not of size enough, to be heard.
Blelham Tarn is not too far to have added to the watery sound, it is
true, but the wind we suppose to have been north-east, and the sound
of the Blelham Tarn would be much carried away from him.
The present stone wall is not near the summit, and is of comparatively
recent date. It is difficult to believe from the slope of the outcrop
of rock that a wall could ever have been at the summit.
But there are two other vantage grounds intermediate between those
extremes, both of which were probably in the mind and memory of the
poet as he described the scene, and
'The intermitting prospect of the copse.
And plain beneath,'
allowed him by the mist. One of these is the High Crag, about
three-quarters of a mile from the divergence or convergence of the two
highways, which Dr. Cradock has selected.