THE POETICAL WORKS
OF
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
EDITED BY
WILLIAM KNIGHT
VOL. VI
[Illustration]
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.
NEW YORK: MACMILLAN & CO.
1896
CONTENTS
1814
PAGE
Laodamia 1
Memorials of a Tour in Scotland--
The Brownie's Cell 16
Composed at Cora Linn, in sight of Wallace's Tower 26
Effusion, in the Pleasure-Ground on the Banks of the
Bran, near Dunkeld 28
"From the dark chambers of dejection freed" 33
Yarrow Visited 35
Lines written on a blank leaf in a copy of the author's poem
_The Excursion_, upon hearing of the death of the late Vicar of
Kendal 40
1815
Dedication to the White Doe of Rylstone 42
Artegal and Elidure 45
To B.R. Haydon 61
November 1 63
September, 1815 64
"The fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade" 65
"Weak is the will of Man, his judgment blind" 67
"Hail, Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour!" 67
"The Shepherd, looking eastward, softly said" 68
"Even as a dragon's eye that feels the stress" 69
"Mark the concentred hazels that enclose" 71
"Surprised by joy--impatient as the Wind" 72
1816
Ode. The Morning of the Day appointed for a General Thanksgiving.
January 18, 1816 74
Ode 88
Invocation to the Earth 95
Ode 96
Ode 104
The French Army in Russia, 1812-13 107
On the Same Occasion 109
Siege of Vienna raised by John Sobieski 110
Occasioned by the Battle of Waterloo 111
Occasioned by the Battle of Waterloo 112
"Emperors and Kings, how oft have temples rung" 113
Feelings of a French Royalist, on the Disinterment of the
Remains of the Duke D'Enghien 114
Dion 116
A Fact, and an Imagination; or, Canute and Alfred, on the
Sea-shore 130
"A little onward lend thy guiding hand" 132
To -----, on her first Ascent to the Summit of Helvellyn 135
1817
Vernal Ode 138
Ode to Lycoris 145
To the Same 149
The Longest Day 153
Hint from the Mountains, for certain Political Pretenders 156
The Pass of Kirkstone 158
Lament of Mary Queen of Scots 162
1818
The Pilgrim's Dream; or, the Star and the Glow-worm 167
Inscriptions supposed to be found in and near a Hermit's Cell 170
Composed upon an Evening of Extraordinary Splendour and Beauty 176
1819
This, and the two following, were suggested by Mr. W. Westall's
Views of the Caves, etc., in Yorkshire 183
Malham Cove 184
Gordale 185
Composed during a Storm 187
"Aerial Rock--whose solitary brow" 187
The Wild Duck's Nest 189
Written upon a blank leaf in "The Complete Angler" 190
Captivity--Mary Queen of Scots 191
To a Snow-Drop 191
"When haughty expectations prostrate lie" 192
To the River Derwent 193
Composed in one of the Valleys of Westmoreland, on Easter
Sunday 194
"Grief, thou hast lost an ever ready friend" 195
"I watch, and long have watched, with calm regret" 197
"I heard (alas! 'twas only in a dream)" 198
The Haunted Tree 199
September, 1819 201
Upon the Same Occasion 202
1820
Composed on the Banks of a Rocky Stream 208
On the Death of His Majesty (George the Third) 209
"The stars are mansions built by Nature's hand" 210
To the Lady Mary Lowther 211
On the Detraction which followed the Publication of a certain
Poem 212
Oxford, May 30, 1820 213
Oxford, May 30, 1820 214
June, 1820 214
The Germans on the Heights of Hock Heim 216
A Parsonage in Oxfordshire 217
To Enterprise 218
The River Duddon--
To the Rev. Dr. Wordsworth 227
"Not envying Latian shades--if yet they throw" 230
"Child of the clouds! remote from every taint" 231
"How shall I paint thee?--Be this naked stone" 232
"Take, cradled Nursling of the mountain, take" 233
"Sole listener, Duddon! to the breeze that played" 234
Flowers 235
"Change me, some God, into that breathing rose!" 237
"What aspect bore the Man who roved or fled" 237
The Stepping-Stones 239
The Same Subject 240
The Faëry Chasm 241
Hints for the Fancy 242
Open Prospect 243
"O mountain Stream! the Shepherd and his Cot" 245
"From this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play" 245
American Tradition 246
Return 248
Seathwaite Chapel 249
Tributary Stream 250
The Plain of Donnerdale 251
"Whence that low voice?--A whisper from the heart" 252
Tradition 253
Sheep-Washing 253
The Resting-Place 254
"Methinks 'twere no unprecedented feat" 255
"Return, Content! for fondly I pursued" 255
"Fallen, and diffused into a shapeless heap" 256
Journey Renewed 257
"No record tells of lance opposed to lance" 258
"Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorce" 260
"The Kirk of Ulpha to the pilgrim's eye" 260
"Not hurled precipitous from steep to steep" 261
Conclusion 262
After-Thought 263
Postscript 264
Note to Sonnets XVII. and XVIII. 267
Memoir of the Rev. Robert Walker 270
Memorials of a Tour on the Continent--
Dedication 285
Fish-women--on Landing at Calais 286
Brugès 288
Brugès 290
After visiting the Field of Waterloo 292
Between Namur and Liege 293
Aix-la-Chapelle 295
In the Cathedral at Cologne 297
In a Carriage, upon the Banks of the Rhine 299
Hymn, for the Boatmen, as they approach the Rapids under the
Castle of Heidelberg 301
The Source of the Danube 303
On approaching the Staubbach, Lauterbrunnen 306
The Fall of the Aar--Handec 308
Memorial, near the Outlet of the Lake of Thun 310
Composed in one of the Catholic Cantons 312
After-Thought 315
Scene on the Lake of Brientz 315
Engelberg, the Hill of Angels 316
Our Lady of the Snow 318
Effusion, in Presence of the Painted Tower of Tell, at Altorf 321
The Town of Schwytz 324
On hearing the "Ranz des Vaches" on the Top of
the Pass of St. Gothard 326
Fort Fuentes 328
The Church of San Salvador, seen from the Lake of Lugano 332
The Italian Itinerant, and the Swiss Goatherd 338
The Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci, in the Refectory of the
Convent of Maria della Grazia--Milan 343
The Eclipse of the Sun, 1820 345
The Three Cottage Girls 351
The Column intended by Buonaparte for a Triumphal Edifice in
Milan, now lying by the wayside in the Simplon Pass 356
Stanzas composed in the Simplon Pass 357
Echo, upon the Gemmi 360
Processions. Suggested on a Sabbath Morning in the
Vale of Chamouny 363
Elegiac Stanzas 371
Sky-Prospect--From the Plain of France 377
On being Stranded near the Harbour of Boulogne 378
After Landing--the Valley of Dover, Nov. 1820 380
At Dover 381
Desultory Stanzas, upon receiving the preceding Sheets from the
Press 382
APPENDIX--
Note A 387
Note B 389
ADDENDUM 396
WORDSWORTH'S POETICAL WORKS
1814
_The Excursion_--to which the fifth volume of this edition is
devoted--has been assigned to the year 1814; since it was finished, and
first published, in that year,--although commenced in 1795. During the
earlier stages of its composition, this poem was known, in the
Wordsworth household, as "The Pedlar"; and Dorothy Wordsworth tells us
in one of her letters to the Beaumonts, preserved amongst the Coleorton
MSS., that "The Pedlar" was finished at Christmas 1804. See also the
_Memoirs of Wordsworth_, by his nephew (vol. i. p. 304, etc.), and
Dorothy's Grasmere Journal, _passim_. But _The Excursion_, as we have it
now, was finished for press in 1814. The poems more immediately
belonging to that year are _Laodamia_, the _Memorials of a Tour in
Scotland_, _Dion_, and two Sonnets.--ED.
LAODAMIA
Composed 1814.--Published 1815.
[Written at Rydal Mount. The incident of the trees growing and withering
put the subject into my thoughts, and I wrote with the hope of giving it
a loftier tone than, so far as I know, has been given to it by any of
the Ancients who have treated of it. It cost me more trouble than almost
anything of equal length I have ever written.--I.F.]
In 1815 and 1820 this poem was one of those "founded on the Affections";
afterwards it was classed among the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
"With sacrifice before the rising morn
Vows have I made by fruitless hope inspired;
And from the infernal Gods, 'mid shades forlorn
Of night, my slaughtered Lord have I required:[1]
Celestial pity I again implore;-- 5
Restore him to my sight--great Jove, restore!"
So speaking, and by fervent love endowed
With faith, the Suppliant heaven-ward lifts her hands;
While, like the sun emerging from a cloud,
Her countenance brightens--and her eye expands; 10
Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows;
And she expects the issue in repose.
O terror! what hath she perceived?--O joy!
What doth she look on?--whom doth she behold?
Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy? 15
His vital presence? his corporeal mould?
It is--if sense deceive her not--'tis He!
And a God leads him, wingèd Mercury!
Mild Hermes spake--and touched her with his wand
That calms all fear; "Such grace hath crowned thy prayer, 20
Laodamía! that at Jove's command
Thy Husband walks the paths of upper air:
He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space;
Accept the gift, behold him face to face!"
Forth sprang the impassioned Queen her Lord to clasp;
Again that consummation she essayed; 26
But unsubstantial Form eludes her grasp
As often as that eager grasp was made.
The Phantom parts--but parts to re-unite,
And re-assume his place before her sight. 30
"Protesiláus, lo! thy guide is gone!
Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice:
This is our palace,--yonder is thy throne;
Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice.
Not to appal me have the gods bestowed 35
This precious boon; and blest a sad abode."
"Great Jove, Laodamía! doth not leave
His gifts imperfect:--Spectre though I be,
I am not sent to scare thee or deceive;
But in reward of thy fidelity. 40
And something also did my worth obtain;
For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain.
"Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold
That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand
Should die; but me the threat could[2] not withhold:
A generous cause a victim did demand; 46
And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain;
A self-devoted chief--by Hector slain."
"Supreme of Heroes--bravest, noblest, best!
Thy matchless courage I bewail no more, 50
Which[3] then, when tens of thousands were deprest
By doubt, propelled thee to the fatal shore;
Thou found'st--and I forgive thee--here thou art--
A nobler counsellor than my poor heart.
"But thou, though capable of sternest deed, 55
Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave;
And he, whose power restores thee, hath decreed
Thou should'st elude[4] the malice of the grave:
Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair
As when their breath enriched Thessalian air. 60
"No Spectre greets me,--no vain Shadow this;
Come, blooming Hero, place thee by my side!
Give, on this well known couch, one nuptial kiss
To me, this day, a second time thy bride!"
Jove frowned in heaven: the conscious Parcæ threw
Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue. 66
"This visage tells thee that my doom is past:
Nor should the change be mourned, even if the joys[5]
Of sense were able to return as fast
And surely as they vanish. Earth destroys 70
Those raptures duly--Erebus disdains:
Calm pleasures there abide--majestic pains.
"Be taught, O faithful Consort, to control
Rebellious passion: for the Gods approve
The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul; 75
A fervent, not ungovernable, love.[6]
Thy transports moderate; and meekly mourn
When I depart, for brief is my sojourn--"
"Ah, wherefore?--Did not Hercules by force
Wrest from the guardian Monster of the tomb 80
Alcestis, a reanimated corse,
Given back to dwell on earth in vernal bloom?[7]
Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years,
And Æson stood a youth 'mid youthful peers.
"The Gods to us are merciful--and they 85
Yet further may relent: for mightier far
Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway
Of magic potent over sun and star,
Is love, though oft to agony distrest, 89
And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast.
"But if thou goest, I follow--" "Peace!" he said,--
She looked upon him and was calmed and cheered;
The ghastly colour from his lips had fled;
In his deportment, shape, and mien, appeared
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, 95
Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
He spake of love, such love as Spirits feel
In worlds whose course is equable and pure;
No fears to beat away--no strife to heal--
The past unsighed for, and the future sure; 100
Spake of heroic arts in graver mood
Revived, with finer harmony pursued;[8]
Of all that is most beauteous--imaged there
In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,
An ampler ether, a diviner air, 105
And fields invested with purpureal gleams;
Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day
Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.
Yet there the Soul shall enter which hath earned
That privilege by virtue.--"Ill," said he, 110
"The end of man's existence I discerned,
Who from ignoble games and revelry
Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight,
While tears were thy best pastime, day and night;
"And while my youthful peers before my eyes 115
(Each hero following his peculiar bent)
Prepared themselves for glorious enterprise
By martial sports,--or, seated in the tent,
Chieftains and kings in council were detained;
What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchained.[A] 120
"The wished-for wind was given:--I then revolved
The oracle, upon the silent sea;[9]
And, if no worthier led the way, resolved
That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be
The foremost prow in pressing to the strand,-- 125
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.
"Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang
When of thy loss I thought, belovèd Wife!
On thee too fondly did my memory hang,
And on the joys we shared in mortal life,-- 130
The paths which we had trod--these fountains, flowers;
My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers.
"But should suspense permit the Foe to cry,
'Behold they tremble!--haughty their array,
Yet of their number no one dares to die?' 135
In soul I swept the indignity away:
Old frailties then recurred:--but lofty thought,
In act embodied, my deliverance wrought.
"And Thou, though strong in love, art all too weak
In reason, in self-government, too slow; 140
I counsel thee by fortitude to seek
Our blest re-union in the shades below.
The invisible world with thee hath sympathised;
Be thy affections raised and solemnised.
"Learn, by a mortal yearning, to ascend 145
Seeking[10] a higher object. Love was given,
Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that[11] end;
For this the passion to excess was driven--
That self might be annulled; her bondage prove
The fetters of a dream, opposed to love."-- 150
Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes re-appears!
Round the dear Shade she would have clung--'tis vain:
The hours are past--too brief had they been years;
And him no mortal effort can detain:
Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day, 155
He through the portal takes his silent way,
And on the palace-floor a lifeless corse She lay.
Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved,
She perished; and, as for a wilful crime,
By the just Gods whom no weak pity moved, 160
Was doomed to wear out her appointed time,
Apart from happy Ghosts, that gather flowers[12]
Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers.
--Yet tears to human suffering are due;
And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown 165
Are mourned by man, and not by man alone,
As fondly he believes.--Upon the side
Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained)
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew
From out the tomb of him for whom she died; 170
And ever, when such stature they had gained
That Ilium's walls were subject to their view,
The trees' tall summits withered at the sight;
A constant interchange of growth and blight![C]
After meeting the Wordsworths at Charles Lamb's, on the 9th May 1815,
Henry Crabb Robinson wrote in his _Diary_: "It is the mere power which
he is conscious of exerting in which he delights, not the production of
a work in which men rejoice on account of the sympathies and
sensibilities it excites in them. Hence, he does not much esteem his
_Laodamia_, as it belongs to the inferior class of poems founded on the
affections." (See _Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence_, vol.
i. p. 482.)
Wordsworth wrote thus to Walter Savage Landor, from Rydal Mount, on the
21st of January 1824:--
"You have condescended to minute criticism upon the _Laodamia_.[D]
I concur with you in the first stanza, and had several times
attempted to alter it upon your grounds. I cannot, however, accede
to your objection to the 'second birth,' merely because the
expression has been degraded by Conventiclers.[E] I certainly meant
nothing more by it than the _eadem cura_, and the _largior æther_,
etc., of Virgil's Sixth _Æneid_. All religions owe their origin or
acceptation to the wish of the human heart to supply in another
state of existence the deficiencies of this, and to carry still
nearer to perfection what we admire in our present condition, so
that there must be many modes of expression arising out of this
coincidence, or rather identity of feeling common to all
Mythologies; and under this observation I should shelter the phrase
from your censure--but I may be wrong in the particular case,
though certainly not in the general principle. This leads to a
remark in your last--'that you are disgusted with all books that
treat of religion.' I am afraid it is a bad sign in me, that I have
little relish for any other. Even in poetry it is the imaginative
only, viz., that which is conversant with or turns upon Infinity,
that powerfully affects me. Perhaps I ought to explain: I mean to
say that except in those passages, where things are lost in each
other, and limits vanish, and aspirations are raised, I read with
something too like indifference; but all great Poets are in this
view powerful Religionists."
In 1815 Charles Lamb wrote to Wordsworth, "_Laodamia_ is a very original
poem; I mean original with reference to your own manner. You have
nothing like it. I should have seen it in a strange place, and greatly
admired it, but not suspected its derivation." (_The Letters of Charles
Lamb_, edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. i. p. 284.)
Mr. Hazlitt wrote of _Laodamia_: "It breathes the pure spirit of the
finest fragments of antiquity--the sweetness, the gravity, the strength,
the beauty, and the languor of Death. Its glossy brilliancy arises from
the perfection of the finishing, like that of careful sculpture, not
from gaudy colouring--the texture of the thoughts has the smoothness and
solidity of marble. It is a poem that might be read aloud in Elysium,
and the spirits of departed heroes and sages would gather round to
listen to it."
I am indebted to the Headmaster of Fettes College, Edinburgh, the Rev.
W. A. Heard, for the following illustrative notes on _Laodamia_:--
"This poem illustrates more completely than any other the sympathy
of the poet with the spirit of antiquity in its purest and most
exalted forms. The idea that underlies the poem is the same
conception of 'pietas' which Virgil has embodied in the _Æneid_,
and with which he has associated, especially in the sixth book,
which Wordsworth in many passages recalls, great ethical and
religious conceptions, derived in the main from the philosophy of
Plato. 'Pietas' embraces all the duties of life that are based upon
the affections--love of home and parents and children, love of the
Gods of our Fathers, and a reverence for that great order of things
in which man finds himself a part. The pious man believes in a
destiny, or order transcending his own will: to exalt any passion,
however innocent, above this, is a rebellion; to intensify any
passion, so as to disturb the appropriate calm of resignation, is
to act irreverently against the gods. Lesser duties must give way
to greater: love of wife must give way to love of country, and the
sorrow of bereavement must not obscure the larger issues of life.
Thus, not only did Laodamia's yearning for the restoration of her
husband to life show a failure to recognise the fixity of eternal
laws, but her death was 'ὑπὲρ μόρον' and in reason's
spite; it was, after all, self-will, and could not win the favour
of heaven.
Blending with this notion of 'pietas,' we find the Platonic
repudiation of sensuous and material life. This life is only a
discipline under imperfect conditions, and to be set free from the
passion and fretfulness of existence is the choice and longing of
the wise.
The poem is thus notable, not so much for the assimilation of
details, as for natural affinity to the spirituality of antiquity,
of which Virgil is the purest exponent. Virgil's seriousness, his
tenderness, his conception of the inevitable, and yet moral, order
of the world, his desire for purification, his sadness, and yet
complete freedom from unmanliness, his love of nature and belief in
the sympathy of nature with man--all these are points of contact
between the ancient and modern poet.
_With sacrifice before the rising morn._
Offerings were made to the infernal deities in the interval between
midnight and sunrise. See Virgil's _Æneid_, vi. 242-258. Sil. Ital.,
xiii. 405.
mactare repostis
Mos umbris, inquit, consueta piacula nigras
Sub lucem pecudes.
It is men's wont to offer to the buried shades the proper expiations of
black sheep on the verge of dawn.
_Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows._
Non voltus, non color unus,
Non comptae mansere comae; sed pectus anhelum,
Et rabie fera corda tument; majorque videri,
Nec mortale sonans. _Æneid_ vi. 47.
Neither face nor hue remained unchanged, nor braided the locks of her
hair: but the bosom heaves and the heart swells wild with frenzy, and
she is more majestic to behold, and her voice has no mortal sound.
. . . . _wingèd Mercury._
Ἑρμῆς ψυχαγωγός or ψυχοπομπός, the conductor
of souls.
. . . . _with his wand._
Tum virgam capit: hac animas ille evocat Orco,
Pallentes, alias sub Tartara tristia mittit,
Dat somnos adimitque. _Æneid_ iv. 242.
Then he takes the wand: with this he summons pale ghosts from Orcus,
others he sends to gloomy Tartarus below: with this he gives and takes
away sleep.
_But unsubstantial Form eludes her grasp._
Ter conatus ibi collo dare bracchia circum,
Ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago,
Par levibus ventis volucrique simillima somno.
_Æneid_ vi. 700.
Thrice thereon he tried to cast his arms around his neck: thrice was the
phantom grasped in vain and escaped the embrace, unsubstantial as the
fleeting winds and shadowy like as winged sleep.
_But in reward of thy fidelity.
And something also did my worth obtain._
'Vicit iter durum pietas,' is realised by these lines. 'Fidelity has
prevailed to traverse the awful path.'
_Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold._
Sors quoque nescio quem fato designat iniquo,
Qui primus Danaum Troada tangat humum.
Ovid, _Heroides_, xiii. 93.
An oracle, moreover, destines some one or other for a cruel doom, who
first of the Greeks sets foot on Trojan soil.
_A nobler counsellor than my poor heart._
See Laodamia's words, Ovid, _Heroides_, xiii. 95.
Infelix quae prima virum lugebit ademptum;
Di faciant ne tu strenuus esse velis.
Hoc quoque praemoneo: de nave novissimus exi,
Non est quo properes terra paterna tibi.
Unhappy wife who shall be the first to lament a husband slain: God grant
_you_ may not choose the forward part: this warning too I give, be last
to disembark: 'tis no fatherland to hasten to, no fatherland for you.
_Give, on this well known couch, one nuptial kiss._
This is probably an adaptation of Ovid, _Heroides_, xiii. 117.
Quando erit ut lecto mecum bene junctus in uno
Militiae referas splendida facta tuae.
When will the time be that you will share the couch, and lovingly at my
side recount the glorious deeds of your warfare?
_Be taught, O faithful Consort, to control
Rebellious passion: for the Gods approve
The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul_, etc.
Cf. Euripides, _Iphigeneia in Aulide_, 547:
γαλανείᾳ χρησάμενοι
μαινομένων οἴστρων.
Stilling to calmness the frenzied passions of love.
And again:
εἴη δέ μοι μετρία μὲν
χάρις πόθοι δ' ὅσιοι.
Mine be 'moderate transports' and holy yearnings.
... _Did not Hercules by force._
This refers to the struggle between Hercules and Θάνατος.
_Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years._
The story is found in Ovid, _Metamorphoses_, vii. 159-293.
_Elysian beauty, melancholy grace,
Brought from a pensive though a happy place._
This is a perfect rendering of the _tone_ of the Sixth _Æneid_.
_Spake of heroic arts in graver mood
Revived, with finer harmony pursued._
Quae gratia currum
Armorumque fuit vivis, quae cura nitentes
Pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos.
_Æneid_ vi. 653.
The charm of chariot and armour that they had in life, and the same care
to pasture their glossy steeds, follow them deep buried under earth.
_An ampler ether, a diviner air._
Largior hic campos aether et lumine vestit
Purpureo, solemque suum, sua sidera norunt.
Here an 'ampler ether' spreads around the plains, and clothes them in
purple light, and they recognise a sun of their own, their own
constellations.--_Æneid_ vi. 640.
_Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang._
Cf. Agamemnon's words, _Iphigeneia in Aulide_, 451-468.
_My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers._
Cf. Homer, _Iliad_, ii. 700.
τοῦ δὲ καὶ ἀμφιδρυφὴς ἄλοχος Φυλάκῃ ἐλέλειπτο
καὶ δόμος ἡμιτελής.
But his wife too had been left at Phylace, her cheeks all marred with
grief, and his palace half-finished.
_In soul I swept the indignity away._
καὶ γὰρ οὐδέ τοί τι λίαν ἐμὲ φιλοψυχεῖν χρεών.
For neither of a surety ought I to cling to life too
fondly.--_Iphigeneia in Aulide_, 1385.
It is from the character of Iphigeneia that Wordsworth derives these
traits.
_By the just Gods whom no weak pity moved._
We think of Virgil's tender line in the similar passage about Orpheus
and Eurydice. _Georg._ iv. 488.
Quum subita incautum dementia cepit amantem,
_Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere Manes._
Pardonable indeed, were pardon known in the world of death.
_Was doomed to wear out her appointed time._
Virg. _Æn._ vi. 445--
His Phaedram Procrimque locis maestamque Eriphylen
Crudelis nati monstrantem volnera cernit,
Evadnenque et Pasiphaën:
_His Laodamia
It comes._
Those who died of love dwelt in the 'Lugentes Campi,' in the outer
regions of Orcus.
_A knot of spiry trees ..._
The passage in Pliny is--
Sunt hodie ex adverso Iliensium urbis juxta Hellespontum in Protesilai
sepulcro arbores, quae omnibus aevis cum in tantum accrevere ut Ilium
aspiciant, inarescunt rursusque adolescunt.--_Hist. Nat._ 16, 44 (88).
Opposite to Ilium and close to the Hellespont there are to this day
trees growing on Protesilaus' tomb, which, in every generation, as soon
as they have grown high enough to see Ilium, wither away and again shoot
up.
Cf. _Anthologia Graeca_ Pal. vii. 141.
σᾶμα δέ τοι πτελέῃσι συηρεφὲς ἀμφικομεῦσι
Νύμφαι ἀπεχθομένης Ἰλίου ἀντιπέρας,
δένδρεα δυσμήνιτα, καὶ ἤν ποτε τεῖχος ἴδωσι
Τρώϊον αὐαλέην φυλλοχοεῦντι κόμην.
But right opposite hated Ilium the nymphs shroud thy tomb with a roof of
elms; trees blighting with a lasting wrath, and if ever they see the
walls of Troy, they shed their withering leaves.
And again, vii. 385--
καρφοῦται πετάλων κόσμον ἀναινόμενα.
They wither, disowning the glory of leaves.
For a legend showing a similar sympathy between nature and man, see
_Æneid_, iii. 22."
As Wordsworth tells us in the Fenwick note to _Laodamia_, that "it cost
him more trouble than almost anything of equal length he had ever
written," and as there are many incomplete passages and suppressed
readings among his MSS., the two following stanzas--intended at first to
follow the second stanza in the poem as it now stands--may be given in a
supplementary note.--ED.
That rapture failing, the distracted Queen
Knelt, and embraced the Statue of the God:
"Mighty the boon I ask, but Earth has seen
Effects as awful from thy gracious nod;
All-ruling Jove, unbind the mortal chain,
Nor let the force of prayer be spent in vain!"
Round the high-seated Temple a soft breeze
Along the columns sighed--all else was still--
Mute, vacant as the face of summer seas,
No sign accorded of a favouring will.
Dejected she withdraws--her palace-gate
Enters--and, traversing a room of state,
O terror! etc. etc.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 1: 1827.
... before the rising morn
Performed, my slaughtered Lord have I required;
And in thick darkness, amid shades forlorn,
Him of the infernal Gods have I desired: 1815.
]
[Footnote 2: 1820.
... did ... 1815.
]
[Footnote 3: 1820.
That ... 1815.
]
[Footnote 4: 1845.
That thou should'st cheat ... 1815.
]
[Footnote 5: 1836.
Know, virtue were not virtue if the joys 1815.
]
[Footnote 6: 1820.
The fervor--not the impotence of love. 1815.
]
[Footnote 7: 1827.
... in beauty's bloom? 1815.
]
[Footnote 8: 1827.
Spake, as a witness, of a second birth
For all that is most perfect upon earth; 1815.
]
[Footnote 9: 1820.
Our future course, upon the silent sea;[B] 1815.
]
[Footnote 10: 1836.
Towards 1815.
]
[Footnote 11: 1827.
this 1815.
]
[Footnote 12: 1845.
Ah, judge her gently who so deeply loved!
Her, who, in reason's spite, yet without crime,
Was in a trance of passion thus removed;
Delivered from the galling yoke of time
And these frail elements--to gather flowers 1815.
By no weak pity might the Gods be moved;
She who thus perished not without the crime
Of Lovers that in Reason's spite have loved,
Was doomed to wander in a grosser clime,
Apart from happy Ghosts--that gather flowers 1827.
Was doomed to wear out her appointed time,
Apart from happy Ghosts-- 1832.
She--who, though warned, exhorted, and reproved,
Thus died, from passion desperate to a crime--
By the just Gods, whom no weak pity moved,
Was doomed to wear out. 1840.
She perished thus, admonished and reproved
In vain; and even as for a wilful crime
By the just Gods, C.
Thus, though forewarned, exhorted, and reproved,
She perished; and even as for a wilful crime, C.
]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: Wordsworth mentioned in a letter to De Quincey (February 8,
1815) that this stanza was added while the poem was passing through the
press.--ED.]
[Footnote B: The original MS. of _Laodamia_, however, contained the
finally adopted reading "The oracle." Wordsworth explained to De Quincey
(February 8, 1815) that he substituted the phrase "our future course,"
in case the words should seem to allude to the other answer of the
oracle which commanded the sacrifice of Iphigenia.--ED.]
[Footnote C: For the account of these long-lived trees, see Pliny's
_Natural History_, lib. xvi. cap. 44; and for the features in the
character of Protesilaus see the _Iphigenia in Aulis_ of Euripides.
Virgil places the Shade of Laodamia in a mournful region, among unhappy
Lovers:--
His Laodamia
It comes. W. W. 1827.
To his nephew, John Wordsworth, the poet wrote in 1831, explaining the
alterations he had made in the last stanza of _Laodamia_: "As at first
written, the heroine was dismissed to happiness in Elysium. To what
purpose then the mission of Protesilaus? He exhorts her to moderate her
passions; the exhortation is fruitless, and no punishment follows. So it
stood: at present she is placed among unhappy ghosts for disregard of
the exhortation. Virgil also places her there, but compare the two
passages, and give me _your_ opinion." (_William Wordsworth_, by
Elizabeth Wordsworth, p. 131.)
With the last two lines of the poem, compare _Hart-Leap Well_, part ii.
stanza 4 (vol. ii. p. 133)--
The trees were grey, with neither arms nor head;
Half wasted the square mound of tawny green, etc.
ED.
]
[Footnote D: Compare _Imaginary Conversations_, third series: "Southey
and Porson."--ED.]
[Footnote E: He practically admitted its force, however, in the edition
of 1827.--ED.]
MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND
1814
On the 18th July 1814, Wordsworth left Rydal, on a second visit to
Scotland, accompanied by his wife, and her sister, Sarah
Hutchinson.--ED.
[In this tour, my wife and her sister Sara were my companions. The
account of the "Brownie's Cell" and the Brownies was given me by a man
we met with on the banks of Loch Lomond, a little above Tarbert, and in
front of a huge mass of rock, by the side of which, we were told,
preachings were often held in the open air. The place is quite a
solitude, and the surrounding scenery very striking. How much is it to
be regretted that, instead of writing such Poems as the _Holy Fair_ and
others, in which the religious observances of his country are treated
with so much levity and too often with indecency, Burns had not employed
his genius in describing religion under the serious and affecting
aspects it must so frequently take.[F]--I.F.]
The poems of this series were collected under their common title in the
edition of 1827.--ED.
I
SUGGESTED BY A BEAUTIFUL RUIN UPON ONE OF THE ISLANDS OF LOCH
LOMOND, A PLACE CHOSEN FOR THE RETREAT OF A SOLITARY
INDIVIDUAL,[13] FROM WHOM THIS HABITATION ACQUIRED THE NAME OF
THE BROWNIE'S CELL
Composed 1814.--Published 1820
I
To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen,[14]
Or depth of[15] labyrinthine glen;
Or into trackless forest set
With trees, whose lofty umbrage met;
World-wearied Men withdrew of yore; 5
(Penance their trust, and prayer their store;)
And in the wilderness were bound
To such apartments as they found;
Or with a new ambition raised;
That God might suitably be praised. 10
II
High lodged the _Warrior_,[16] like a bird of prey;
Or where broad waters round him lay:
But this wild Ruin is no ghost
Of his devices--buried, lost!
Within this little lonely isle 15
There stood a consecrated Pile;
Where tapers burned, and mass was sung,
For them whose timid Spirits clung
To mortal succour, though the tomb
Had fixed, for ever fixed, their doom! 20
III
Upon[17] those servants of another world
When madding Power[18] her bolts had hurled,
Their habitation shook;--it fell,
And perished, save one narrow cell;
Whither, at length, a Wretch retired 25
Who neither grovelled nor aspired:
He, struggling in the net of pride,
The future scorned, the past defied;
Still tempering, from the unguilty forge
Of vain conceit, an iron scourge! 30
IV
Proud Remnant was he of a fearless Race,[19]
Who stood and flourished face to face
With their perennial hills;--but Crime,
Hastening the stern decrees of Time,
Brought low a Power, which from its home 35
Burst, when repose grew wearisome;
And, taking impulse from the sword,
And, mocking its own plighted word,
Had found, in ravage widely dealt,
Its warfare's bourn, its travel's belt![20] 40
V
All, all were dispossessed, save him whose smile
Shot lightning through this lonely Isle!
No right had he but what he made
To this small[21] spot, his leafy shade;
But the ground lay within that ring 45
To which he only dared to cling;
Renouncing here,[22] as worse than dead,
The craven few who bowed the head
Beneath the change; who heard a claim
How loud! yet lived in peace with shame. 50
VI
From year to year[23] this shaggy Mortal went
(So seemed it) down a strange descent:
Till they, who saw his outward frame,
Fixed on him an unhallowed name;
Him, free from all malicious taint, 55
And guiding, like the Patmos Saint,
A pen unwearied--to indite,
In his lone Isle,[24] the dreams of night;
Impassioned dreams, that strove to span
The faded glories of his Clan! 60
VII
Suns that through blood their western harbour sought,
And stars that in their courses fought;
Towers rent, winds combating with woods,
Lands deluged by unbridled floods;
And beast and bird that from the spell 65
Of sleep took import terrible;--
These types mysterious (if the show
Of battle and the routed foe
Had failed) would furnish an array
Of matter for the dawning day! 70
VIII
How disappeared He?--ask the newt and toad,
Inheritors of his abode;
The otter crouching undisturbed,
In her dank cleft;--but be thou curbed,
O froward Fancy! 'mid a scene 75
Of aspect winning and serene;
For those offensive creatures shun
The inquisition of the sun!
And in this region flowers delight,
And all is lovely to the sight. 80
IX
Spring finds not here a melancholy breast,
When she applies her annual test
To dead and living; when her breath
Quickens, as now, the withered heath;--
Nor flaunting[25] Summer--when he throws 85
His soul into the briar-rose;
Or calls the lily from her sleep
Prolonged beneath the bordering deep;
Nor Autumn, when the viewless wren
Is warbling near the BROWNIE'S Den. 90
X
Wild Relique! beauteous as the chosen spot
In Nysa's isle, the embellished grot;[G]
Whither, by care of Libyan Jove,
(High Servant of paternal Love)
Young Bacchus was conveyed--to lie 95
Safe from his step-dame Rhea's eye;
Where bud, and bloom, and fruitage, glowed,
Close-crowding round the infant-god;
All colours,--and the liveliest streak
A foil to his celestial cheek! 100
The text of this poem was unaltered in the successive editions with a
single exception, occurring in the first line. It was suggested by, and
was a reminiscence of the tour in Scotland of 1814; but in 1803
Wordsworth visited the same spot alluded to in the Fenwick note,
accompanied by his sister, who thus describes it: "The most remarkable
object we saw was a huge single stone, I believe three or four times the
size of Bowder Stone. The top of it, which on one side was sloping like
the roof of a house, was covered with heather.... The ferryman told us
that a preaching was held there once in three months by a certain
minister--I think of Arrochar--who engages, as a part of his office, to
perform the service. The interesting feelings we had connected with the
Highland Sabbath and Highland worship returned here with double force.
The rock, though on one side a high perpendicular wall, in no place
overhung so as to form a shelter, in no place could it be more than a
screen from the elements. Why then had it been selected for such a
purpose? Was it merely from being a central situation and a conspicuous
object? Or did there belong to it some inheritance of superstition from
old times? It is impossible to look at the stone without asking, How
came it hither? Had then that obscurity and unaccountableness, that
mystery of power which is about it, any influence over the first persons
who resorted hither for worship? Or have they now on those who continue
to frequent it? The lake is in front of the perpendicular wall, and
behind, at some distance, and totally detached from it, is the
continuation of the ridge of mountain which forms the Vale of Loch
Lomond--a magnificent temple, of which this spot is a noble Sanctum
Sanctorum." (_Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland, A.D. 1803_, pp.
225-6.) The late Rev. William Macintosh of Buchanan supplied me with the
following information in reference to the Brownie's Cell and the Pulpit
Rock:--"I have little doubt that the Brownie's Cell is the name given by
Wordsworth to a small vault, itself a ruin among the ruins of an old
stronghold of the Macfarlanes in Eilan Vhow, an islet about three miles
from the head of the Loch. The name of the islet is spelt in different
ways; sometimes as I have given it, sometimes Eilan Vow, or Eilan-a
Vhu; no one whom I consulted could tell me the right spelling. In the
early part of this century, the vault was the headquarters of a pedlar
of the name of Macfarlane. He may have been the Hermit; and there is a
story of his having been frightened by the sudden apparition of a negro,
(probably the first he had ever seen), who had been ordered by his
master--an English officer--to swim across for that purpose: and it is
said that he never again visited the cell.
The Pulpit Rock, also called by a Gaelic name meaning the Bull Stone, is
a very large boulder, or detached rock, which is likely to 'stand' as
long as Ben Lomond. In the face of it, there is an artificial doorway
and recess, which at one time the Parish Minister used to occupy as a
Pulpit for occasional services. The audience sat on turf seats ranged
round the foot of the Rock. The pulpit was reached by a few steps cut
out, I suppose, in the Rock: but it has never been used for the last
twenty years. The 'occasional' services are now held in a neighbouring
schoolroom."
Mr. Malcolm M'Farlane, a very intelligent sheep farmer in Buchanan
parish, supplies the following additional information about the Cell and
the Rock:--"The 'Pulpit Rock' is a cell in the face of a large stone,
blasted out with gunpowder. The proper appellation is, in Gaelic,
'Clach-nan-Tairbh,' literally translated the 'Stone of the Bulls.' It
was formed about 50 or 60 years ago, the then minister of Arrochar, Mr.
Proudfoot, had promised to preach in that part of his parish, on several
occasions during the year, provided they would get up a place for his
reception.... It was capable of containing three or four persons inside,
was done up with wood work, an outer and inner door, with stone steps
leading to the recess. They were not formed out of the rock, but other
stones got up for the purpose, and turf seats laid out for the hearers,
who were all exposed to the weather, except so far as they might be
sheltered by the rock. The service has been discontinued at the rock for
about twenty-five years, and is now held at a schoolhouse. The doors are
gone, and no portion of the wood work remains. The cell is now used only
as a nightly retreat for mendicants, tinkers," etc. Wordsworth's
reference, in the Fenwick note, to Burns's _Holy Fair_ induces me to
quote what follows in Mr. M'Farlane's letter:--"Open air preaching was
then very general in the Highlands: the people came long distances,
travelled over hills, even in inclement weather, to attend them. An
individual who kept a small inn, on the loch side opposite Inversnaid,
used regularly to attend the meetings with a supply of whisky; but he
remained behind the 'rock' till the services were over, when the people
partook of his refreshments. Also, on the north side of Loch Katrine,
the minister of Callander used to conduct services in the open air, on
several occasions during the year, in that distant part of his parish.
An old man, who lived near the Trossachs, whom I remember very well,
regularly attended with a supply of whisky. Dr. Robertson, who was then
minister, after concluding the sermon, had gone to an adjoining farm
house. The people had indulged too freely, so that a fight commenced
(the same thing had happened on several occasions before). The Doctor
had to leave his dinner in order to get them separated, and to put an
end to the battle, but he never allowed any more whisky to be brought to
the place afterwards.... These may be irrelevant matters, but they might
illustrate a chapter in Lecky's _History of Morals_, as there is more
decorum now observed. Since writing the above, I have thought that if
the pulpit-rock is mentioned in Miss Wordsworth's Tour, Mr. M'Nicol, my
informant, must have made a mistake in stating the time it was made, as
about 50 or 60 years ago; but it cannot have been much more than 80
years, as it is not very long since some of the people who were engaged
in the operation died.
"Regarding the island near the head of Loch Lomond which is termed
'Eilan (Island) Vow' in Black's _Guide_, and somewhat differently spelt
in others, in the original Gaelic it is 'Eilan a Bhūth.' Būth is a
Gaelic name for a shop, so that it is 'the island of the shop.' The
English Vow has no connection whatever with the Gaelic, and is perfectly
unintelligible. It is part of undoubted traditional history that the
chiefs of the Clan M'Farlane, who owned a considerable portion of the
adjoining lands, had their residence here. In these turbulent times
islands were considered more secure, as surrounded with water. They kept
a 'shop' in the island, from which they supplied the little wants of the
surrounding population, so that it is perfectly clear how the Island
derived its name. A good portion of the stronghold is still in good
preservation. A part of the wall is about thirty feet high. It is a very
old building. Mr. M'Nicol states that he had learned from his
grandfather, by the tradition in the family, that it was erected between
the eleventh and the twelfth century. The late Sir James Colquhoun,
about twelve years ago, laid out some money for keeping the walls in
preservation. At the bottom of the Fort, and below the level of the
floor, is the 'Brownie's Cell,' several steps leading down to it, and it
is partly underground. It is about twelve feet wide, and sixteen feet
long, with an arched roof, the mason work being still in good repair.
There is some glimmering light emitted by two small apertures formed in
the walls at each end. I have been unable to obtain any specific
information what purpose it served in connection with the other
building. Some said that it must have been a prison, and others a store
for the shop. It might have been a prison at first, and afterwards, in
more pacific times, used as a store.
"About the beginning of this century, the Island was occupied by a very
eccentric individual, who led the life of a hermit, and took up his
abode in this recess. He made frequent excursions out of it, but always
returned to his Island-home before the end of the week. It was not then
planted with wood, so that he cultivated a part of the ground, raised
some crops, kept some poultry. He trained the poultry to fly on the
approach of any stranger, so that they could not be got hold of, or
taken away in his absence from the Island. He also kept a curious diary,
in which local events, his own doings and opinions, were recorded in
great detail, expressed in very quaint language. It was by the age of
the moon, and not by the days of the month, that events were entered in
the diary. He also cultivated astrology, and believed in the evil
influence of some of the stars. He had a firm belief in ghosts; but he
never was so frightened as when the Black Man (that is the negro), who
he thought belonged to the invisible world, swam to the island. Of that
adventure I have not been able to obtain a more detailed account, but
his landing there very nearly put him out of his wits. The grandfather
of the present Duke of Montrose had, on one occasion, visited the
Island; and, when landing, the Hermit addressed him, 'James Graham, the
Duke of Montrose, you are welcome to come and see my Island.'..."
There is no evidence that the ruin was once "a consecrated Pile," as
stated in the poem. Wordsworth had evidently heard of the Hermit's
writings, as mentioned by Mr. M'Farlane. See stanza vi., "guiding a pen
unwearied."
In the _Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence_ of Henry Crabb
Robinson, there is an entry, dated January 2, 1820:--"Went to Lamb's,
where I found Mr. and Mrs. Wordsworth.... Not much was said about his
(W.'s) new volume of Poems. He himself spoke of _The Brownie's Cell_ as
his favourite" (vol. ii. p. 162). In the following year Mr. Crabb
Robinson himself visited Scotland, and wrote thus on the 16th
September:--"Being on the western side of Loch Lomond, opposite the Mill
at Inversnaid, some women kindled a fire, the smoke of which was to be a
signal for a ferryboat. No ferryman came; and a feeble old man offering
himself as a boatman, I intrusted myself to him. I asked the women who
he was. They said, 'That's old Andrew.' According to their account he
lived a hermit's life in a lone island on the lake; the poor peasantry
giving him meal, and what he wanted, and he picking up pence. On my
asking him whether he would take me across the lake, he said, 'I wull,
if you'll gi'e me saxpence.' So I consented. But before I was half over
I repented of my rashness, for I feared the oars would fall out of his
hands. A breath of wind would have rendered half the voyage too much for
him. There was some cunning mixed up with the fellow's seeming
imbecility, for when his strength was failing he rested, and entered
into talk, manifestly to amuse me. He said he could see things before
they happened. He saw the Radicals before they came, etc. He had picked
up a few words of Spanish and German, which he uttered ridiculously, and
laughed. But when I put troublesome questions he affected not to
understand me; and was quite astonished, as well as delighted, when I
gave him two sixpences instead of the one he had bargained for. The
simple-minded women, who affected to look down on him, seemed, however,
to stand in awe of him, and no wonder. On my telling Wordsworth this
history, he exclaimed, 'That's my "Brownie!"' His _Brownie's Cell_ is by
no means one of my favourite poems. My sight of old Andrew showed me the
stuff out of which a poetical mind can weave such a web" (vol. ii. pp.
212, 213).
Compare the sequel to this poem, _The Brownie_, in the "Yarrow Revisited
and other Poems," of the Tour made in Scotland in the autumn of
1831.--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 13: 1820.