But in truth he was never more cruel than you; 1800.
...--and I guess that you frame
A judgment too harsh of the sin and the shame; 1815.]
[Variant 15:
1815.
... scarce e'en ... 1800.]
[Variant 16: _Italics_ first used in 1815.]
[Variant 17:
1815.
... lawn ... 1800.]
[Variant 18:
1815.
He stood all alone like ... 1800.]
[Variant 19:
1800.
... needs ... 1815.
The edition of 1827 returns to the text of 1800.]
[Variant 20:
1815.
Both stable-boy, errand-boy, porter and groom;
You'd think it the life of a Devil in H--l,
But nature was kind, and with Adam 'twas well. 1800.]
[Variant 21:
He's ten birth-days younger, he's green, and he's stout,
Twice as fast as before does his blood run about,
You'd think it the life of a Devil in H--l,
But Nature is kind, and with Adam 'twas well.
This stanza appeared only in 1800. It was followed by that which now
forms lines 53-56 of the final text.]
[Variant 22:
1815.
He's ten birth-days younger, he's green, and he's stout, 1800.]
[Variant 23:
1815.
You'd ... 1800.]
[Variant 24:
1815.
... does ... 1800.]
[Variant 25:
1815.
... in ... 1800.]
[Variant 26:
1800.
... have come ... 1815.
The text of 1820 returns to that of 1800.]
[Variant 27:
1815.
...he'll stand 1800.]
[Variant 28:
1837.
Where proud Covent-Garden, in frost and in snow,
Spreads her fruits and her flow'rs, built up row after row;
Old Adam will point with his finger and say,
To them that stand by, "I've seen better than they." 1800.
... her fruit ... 1815.
(The text of 1815 is otherwise identical with that of 1837.)]
[Variant 29:
Where the apples are heap'd on the barrows in piles,
You see him stop short, he looks long, and he smiles;
He looks, and he smiles, and a Poet might spy
The image of fifty green fields in his eye.
Only in the text of 1800.]
[Variant 30:
1837.
... in the waggons, and smells to the hay; 1800.
... in the Waggon, and smells at ... 1815.]
[Variant 31:
1815.
... has mown,
And sometimes he dreams that the hay is his own. 1800.]
[Variant 32:
1815.
... where'er ... 1800.]
[Variant 33:
1850.
... spring up o'er ... 1800.
... over ... 1815.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: i. e. first published in the 1815 edition of the Poems:
but, although dated by Wordsworth 1803, it had appeared in 'The Morning
Post' of July 21, 1800, under the title, 'The Farmer of Tilsbury Vale. A
Character'. It was then unsigned.--Ed.]
* * * * *
POEMS ON THE NAMING OF PLACES
ADVERTISEMENT
By Persons resident in the country and attached to rural objects, many
places will be found unnamed or of unknown names, where little Incidents
will have occurred, or feelings been experienced, which will have given
to such places a private and peculiar interest. From a wish to give some
sort of record to such Incidents or renew the gratification of such
Feelings, Names have been given to Places by the Author and some of his
Friends, and the following Poems written in consequence. [A]--W. W. 1800.
[Footnote A: It should be explained that owing to the chronological plan
adopted in this edition (see the preface to vol. i.), two of the poems
which were placed by Wordsworth in his series of "Poems on the Naming of
Places," but which belong to later years, are printed in subsequent
volumes.--Ed.]
* * * * *
"IT WAS AN APRIL MORNING: FRESH AND CLEAR"
Composed 1800.--Published 1800
[Written at Grasmere. This poem was suggested on the banks of the brook
that runs through Easdale, which is, in some parts of its course, as
wild and beautiful as brook can be. I have composed thousands of verses
by the side of it.--I. F.]
It was an April morning: fresh and clear
The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,
Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice
Of waters which the winter had supplied
Was softened down into a vernal tone. 5
The spirit of enjoyment and desire,
And hopes and wishes, from all living things
Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.
The budding groves seemed eager to urge on
The steps of June; as if their various hues 10
Were only hindrances that stood between
Them and their object: but, meanwhile, prevailed
Such an entire contentment in the air [1]
That every naked ash, and tardy tree
Yet leafless, showed as if [2] the countenance 15
With which it looked on this delightful day
Were native to the summer.--Up the brook
I roamed in the confusion of my heart,
Alive to all things and forgetting all.
At length I to a sudden turning came 20
In this continuous glen, where down a rock
The Stream, so ardent in its course before,
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all
Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice
Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb, 25
The shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush
Vied with this waterfall, and made a song,
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth
Or like some natural produce of the air,
That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here; 30
But 'twas the foliage of the rocks--the birch,
The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,
With hanging islands of resplendent furze:
And, on a summit, distant a short space,
By any who should look beyond the dell, 35
A single mountain-cottage might be seen.
I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said,
"Our thoughts at least are ours; and this wild nook,
My EMMA, I will dedicate to thee."
--Soon did the spot become my other home, 40
My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.
And, of the Shepherds who have seen me there,
To whom I sometimes in our idle talk
Have told this fancy, two or three, perhaps,
Years after we are gone and in our graves, 45
When they have cause to speak of this wild place,
May call it by the name of EMMA'S DELL.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
The budding groves appear'd as if in haste
To spur the steps of June; as if their shades
Of _various_ green were hindrances that stood
Between them and their object: yet, meanwhile,
There was such deep contentment in the air 1800.]
[Variant 2:
1845.
... seem'd as though ... 1800.]
The text of the "Poems on the Naming of Places" underwent comparatively
little alteration in successive editions. Both the changes in the first
poem were made in 1845. From the Fenwick note, it is evident that "the
Rivulet" was Easdale beck. But where was "Emma's Dell"? In the autumn of
1877, Dr. Cradock, the Principal of Brasenose College, Oxford, took me
to a place, of which he afterwards wrote,
"I have a fancy for a spot just beyond Goody Bridge to the left, where
the brook makes a curve, and returns to the road two hundred yards
farther on. But I have not discovered a trace of authority in favour
of the idea farther than that the wooded bend of the brook with the
stepping stones across it, connected with a field-path recently
stopped, was a very favourite haunt of Wordsworth's. At the upper part
of this bend, near to the place where the brook returns to the road,
is a deep pool at the foot of a rush of water. In this pool, a man
named Wilson was drowned many years ago. He lived at a house on the
hill called Score Crag, which, if my conjecture as to Emma's Dell is
right, is the 'single mountain cottage' on a 'summit, distant a short
space.' Wordsworth, happening to be walking at no great distance,
heard a loud shriek. It was that of Mr. Wilson, the father, who had
just discovered his son's body in the beck."
In the "Reminiscences" of the poet, by the Hon. Mr. Justice Coleridge,
which were contributed to the 'Memoirs of Wordsworth', written by his
nephew (vol. ii. pp. 300-315), there is a record of a walk they took up
Easdale to this place, entering the field just at the spot which Dr.
Cradock supposes to be "Emma's Dell."
"He turned aside at a little farm-house, and took us into a swelling
field to look down on the tumbling stream which bounded it, and which
we saw precipitated at a distance, in a broad white sheet, from the
mountain." (This refers to Easdale Force.) "Then, as he mused for an
instant, he said,
'I have often thought what a solemn thing it would be could we have
brought to our mind at once all the scenes of distress and misery
which any spot, however beautiful and calm before us, has been
witness to since the beginning. That water break, with the glassy
quiet pool beneath it, that looks so lovely, and presents no images
to the mind but of peace--there, I remember, the only son of his
father, a poor man who lived yonder, was drowned.'"
This walk and conversation took place in October 1836. If any one is
surprised that Wordsworth, supposing him to have been then looking into
the very dell on which he wrote the above poem in 1800, did not name it
to Mr. Coleridge, he must remember that he was not in the habit of
speaking of the places he had memorialised in verse, and that in 1836
his "Sister Emmeline" had for a year been a confirmed invalid at Rydal.
I have repeatedly followed Easdale beck all the way up from its junction
with the Rothay to the Tarn, and found no spot corresponding so closely
to the realistic detail of this poem as the one suggested by Dr.
Cradock. There are two places further up the dale where the "sallies of
glad sound" such as are referred to in the poem, are even more
distinctly audible; but they are not at "a sudden turning," as is the
spot above Goody Bridge. If one leaves the Easdale road at this bridge,
and keeps to the side of the beck for a few hundred yards, till he
reaches the turning,--especially if it be a bright April morning, such
as that described in the poem,--and remembers that this path by the
brook was a favourite resort of Wordsworth and his sister, the
probability of Dr. Cradock's suggestion will be apparent. Lady
Richardson, who knew the place, and appreciated the poem as thoroughly
as any of Wordsworth's friends, told me that she concurred in this
identification of the "dell."--Ed.
* * * * *
TO JOANNA
Composed 1800.--Published 1800
[Written at Grasmere. The effect of her laugh is an extravagance, though
the effect of the reverberation of voices in some parts of the mountains
is very striking. There is, in 'The Excursion', an allusion to the bleat
of a lamb thus re-echoed, and described without any exaggeration, as I
heard it, on the side of Stickle Tarn, from the precipice that stretches
on to Langdale Pikes.--I.F.]
Amid the smoke of cities did you pass
The time [1] of early youth; and there you learned,
From years of quiet industry, to love
The living Beings by your own fire-side,
With such a strong devotion, that your heart 5
Is slow to meet [2] the sympathies of them
Who look upon the hills with tenderness,
And make dear friendships with the streams and groves.
Yet we, who are transgressors in this kind,
Dwelling retired in our simplicity 10
Among the woods and fields, we love you well,
Joanna! and I guess, since you have been
So distant from us now for two long years,
That you will gladly listen to discourse,
However trivial, if you thence be taught [3] 15
That they, with whom you once were happy, talk
Familiarly of you and of old times.
While I was seated, now some ten days past,
Beneath those lofty firs, that overtop
Their ancient neighbour, the old steeple-tower, 20
The Vicar from his gloomy house hard by [A]
Came forth to greet me; and when he had asked,
"How fares Joanna, that wild-hearted Maid!
And when will she return to us?" he paused;
And, after short exchange of village news, 25
He with grave looks demanded, for what cause,
Reviving obsolete idolatry,
I, like a Runic Priest, in characters
Of formidable size had chiselled out
Some uncouth name upon the native rock, 30
Above the Rotha, by the forest-side.
--Now, by those dear immunities of heart
Engendered between [4] malice and true love,
I was not loth to be so catechised,
And this was my reply:--"As it befel, 35
One summer morning we had walked abroad
At break of day, Joanna and myself.
--'Twas that delightful season when the broom,
Full-flowered, and visible on every steep,
Along the copses runs in veins of gold. 40
Our pathway led us on to Rotha's banks;
And when we came in front of that tall rock
That eastward looks, I there stopped short--and stood [5]
Tracing [6] the lofty barrier with my eye
From base to summit; such delight I found 45
To note in shrub and tree, in stone and flower
That intermixture of delicious hues,
Along so vast a surface, all at once,
In one impression, by connecting force
Of their own beauty, imaged in the heart. 50
--When I had gazed perhaps two minutes' space,
Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld
That ravishment of mine, and laughed aloud.
The Rock, like something starting from a sleep,
Took up the Lady's voice, and laughed again; 55
That ancient Woman seated on Helm-crag
Was ready with her cavern; Hammar-scar,
And the tall Steep of Silver-how, sent forth
A noise of laughter; southern Loughrigg heard,
And Fairfield answered with a mountain tone; 60
Helvellyn far into the clear blue sky
Carried the Lady's voice,--old Skiddaw blew
His speaking-trumpet;--back out of the clouds
Of Glaramara southward came the voice;
And Kirkstone tossed it from his misty head. 65
--Now whether (said I to our cordial Friend,
Who in the hey-day of astonishment
Smiled in my face) this were in simple truth
A work accomplished by the brotherhood
Of ancient mountains, or my ear was touched 70
With dreams and visionary impulses
To me alone imparted, sure I am [7]
That there was a loud uproar in the hills.
And, while we both were listening, to my side
The fair Joanna drew, as if she wished 75
To shelter from some object of her fear.
--And hence, long afterwards, when eighteen moons
Were wasted, as I chanced to walk alone
Beneath this rock, at sunrise, on a calm
And silent morning, I sat down, and there, 80
In memory of affections old and true,
I chiselled out in those rude characters
Joanna's name deep in the living stone:--[8]
And I, and all who dwell by my fireside,
Have called the lovely rock, JOANNA'S ROCK." 85
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1827.
Your time ... 1800.]
[Variant 2:
1836.
Is slow towards... 1800.
... toward.... 1827.]
[Variant 3:
1836.
... are taught... 1800.]
[Variant 4:
1836.
... betwixt ... 1800.]
[Variant 5:
1836.
Which looks towards the East, I there stopp'd short, 1800.
... toward ... 1827.]
[Variant 6:
1836.
And trac'd ... 1800.]
[Variant 7:
1827.
Is not for me to tell; but sure I am 1800]
[Variant 8:
1845.
Joanna's name upon the living stone. 1800.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The Rectory at Grasmere, where Wordsworth lived from 1811
to 1813, and where two of his children died.--Ed.]
In Cumberland and Westmoreland are several Inscriptions upon the native
rock which from the wasting of Time and the rudeness of the Workmanship
had been mistaken for Runic. They are without doubt Roman.
The Rotha, mentioned in this poem, is the River which flowing through
the Lakes of Grasmere and Rydale falls into Wyndermere. On Helm-Crag,
that impressive single Mountain at the head of the Vale of Grasmere, is
a Rock which from most points of view bears a striking resemblance to an
Old Woman cowering. Close by this rock is one of those Fissures or
Caverns, which in the language of the Country are called Dungeons. The
other Mountains either immediately surround the Vale of Grasmere, or
belong to the same Cluster.--W. W. 1800.
Most of the Mountains here mentioned immediately surround the vale of
Grasmere; of the others, some are at a considerable distance, but they
belong to the same cluster.--W. W. 1802.
The majority of the changes introduced into the text of this poem were
made in the year 1836.
The place where the echo of the bleat of the lamb was heard--referred
to in the Fenwick note--may be easily found. The "precipice" is Pavy
Ark. "The 'lofty firs, that overtop their ancient neighbour, the old
steeple-tower,' stood by the roadside, scarcely twenty yards north-west
from the steeple of Grasmere church. Their site is now included in the
road, which has been widened at that point. They were Scotch firs of
unusual size, and might justly be said to 'overtop their neighbour' the
tower. Mr. Fleming Green, who well remembers the trees, gave me this
information, which is confirmed by other inhabitants.
"When the road was enlarged, not many years ago, the roots of the
trees were found by the workmen."
(Dr. Cradock to the editor.) The
'tall rock
That eastward looks'
by the banks of the Rotha, presenting a "lofty barrier" "from base to
summit," is manifestly a portion of Helmcrag. It is impossible to know
whether Wordsworth carved Joanna Hutchinson's name anywhere on Helmcrag,
and it is useless to enquire. If he did so, the discovery of the place
would not help any one to understand or appreciate the poem. It is
obvious that he did not intend to be literally exact in details, as the
poem was written in 1800, and addressed to Joanna Hutchinson,--who is
spoken of as having been absent from Grasmere "for two long years;" and
Wordsworth says that he carved the Runic characters 'in memoriam'
eighteen months after that summer morning when he heard the echo of her
laugh. But the family took up residence at Grasmere only in December
1799, and the "Poems on the Naming of Places" were published before the
close of 1800. The effect of these lines to Joanna, however, is
certainly not impaired--it may even be enhanced--by our inability to
localise them. Only one in the list of places referred to can occasion
any perplexity, viz., Hammar-scar, since it is a name now disused in the
district. It used to be applied to some rocks on the flank of
Silver-how, to the wood around them, and also to the gorge between
Silver-how and Loughrigg. Hammar, from the old Norse 'hamar', signifies
a steep broken rock.
The imaginative description of the echo of the lady's laugh suggests a
parallel passage from Michael Drayton's 'Polyolbion', which Wordsworth
must doubtless have read. (See his sister's reference to Drayton in her
'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', in 1803: in the note to the
poem, 'At the grave of Burns', p. 382 of this volume.)
'Which _Copland_ scarce had spoke, but quickly every Hill
Upon her verge that stands, the neighbouring valleys fill;
_Helvillon_ from his height, it through the mountains threw,
From whence as soon again, the sound _Dunbalrase_ drew,
From whose stone-trophèd head, it on the _Wendrosse_ went,
Which tow'rds the sea again, resounded it to _Dent_,
That _Brodwater_ therewith within her banks astound,
In sailing to the sea, told it to _Egremound_,
Whose buildings, walks, and streets, with echoes loud and long,
Did mightily commend old _Copland_ for her song.'
'Polyolbion', The Thirtieth Song, ll. 155-164.
Any one who compares this passage with Wordsworth's 'Joanna' will see
the difference between the elaborate fancy of a topographical narrator,
and the vivid imagination of a poetical idealist. A somewhat similar
instance of indebtedness--in which the debt is repaid by additional
insight--is seen when we compare a passage from Sir John Davies's
'Orchestra, or a poem on Dancing' (stanza 49), with one from 'The
Ancient Mariner', Part VI. stanzas 2 and 3--although there was more of
the true imaginative light in Davies than in Drayton.
'For lo, the sea that fleets about the land,
And like a girdle clips her solid waist,
Music and measure both doth understand;
For his great crystal eye is always cast
Up to the moon, and on her fixed fast:
And as she danceth in her palid sphere
So danceth he about his centre here.'
DAVIES
'Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the moon is cast--
If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.'
COLERIDGE.
These extracts show how both Wordsworth and Coleridge assimilated past
literary products, and how they glorified them by reproduction. There
was little, however, in the poetic imagery of previous centuries that
Wordsworth reproduced. His imagination worked in a sphere of its own,
free from the trammels of precedent; and he was more original than any
other nineteenth century poet in his use of symbol and metaphor. The
poem 'To Joanna' was probably composed on August 22, 1800, as the
following occurs in Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal under that date:
"William was composing all the morning ... W. read us the poem of
Joanna, beside the Rothay, by the roadside."
Charles Lamb wrote to Wordsworth in January 1801, of
"these continuous echoes in the story of 'Joanna's laugh,' when the
mountains and all the scenery seem absolutely alive."
Ed.
* * * * *
"THERE IS AN EMINENCE,--OF THESE OUR HILLS"
Composed 1800.--Published 1800
[It is not accurate that the Eminence here alluded to could be seen from
our orchard-seat. It rises above the road by the side of Grasmere Lake
towards Keswick, and its name is Stone-Arthur.--I.F.]
There is an Eminence,--of these our hills
The last that parleys with the setting sun;
We can behold it from our orchard-seat;
And, when at evening we pursue our walk
Along the public way, this Peak, [1] so high 5
Above us, and so distant in its height,
Is visible; and often seems to send
Its own deep quiet to restore our hearts.
The meteors make of it a favourite haunt:
The star of Jove, so beautiful and large 10
In the mid heavens, is never half so fair
As when he shines above it. 'Tis in truth
The loneliest place we have among the clouds.
And She who dwells with me, whom I have loved
With such communion, that no place on earth 15
Can ever be a solitude to me,
Hath to this lonely Summit given my Name. [2]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1840.
... this Cliff, ... 1800.]
[Variant 2:
1815.
Hath said, this lonesome Peak shall bear my Name. 1800.]
Stone-Arthur is the name of the hill, on the east side of the Vale of
Grasmere, opposite Helm Crag, and between Green Head Ghyll and Tongue
Ghyll.--Ed.
* * * * *
"A NARROW GIRDLE OF ROUGH STONES AND CRAGS"
Composed 1800.--Published 1800
[The character of the eastern shore of Grasmere Lake is quite changed
since these verses were written, by the public road being carried along
its side. The friends spoken of were Coleridge and my Sister, and the
facts occurred strictly as recorded.--I.F.]