Male Issue: governed laudably, and built _Caer-Leir_, now _Leicester_,
on the bank of _Sora_. But at last, failing through Age, he determines
to bestow his Daughters, and so among them to divide his Kingdom. Yet
first to try which of them loved him best, (a Trial that might have made
him, had he known as wisely how to try, as he seemed to know how much
the trying behooved him) _he resolves a simple resolution, to ask them
solemnly in order; and which of them should profess largest, her to
beleev_. _Gonorill_ the Eldest, apprehending too well her Father's
weakness, makes answer invoking Heaven, _That she loved him above her
Soul_. _Therefore_, quoth the old man, overjoyed, _since thou so
honourst my declined Age, to thee and the Husband whom thou shalt
choose, I give the third part of my Realm_. So fair a speeding for a few
words soon uttered, was to _Regan_ the second, ample instruction what to
say. She on the same demand spares no protesting, and the Gods must
witness that otherwise to express her thoughts she knew not, but that
_she loved him above all Creatures_; and so receavs an equal reward with
her Sister. But _Cordeilla_, the youngest, though hitherto best beloved,
and now before her Eyes the rich and present hire of a little easie
soothing, the danger also, and the loss likely to betide plain dealing,
yet moves not from the solid purpose of a sincere and vertuous answer.
_Father_, saith she, _my love towards you, is as my duty bids; what
should a Father seek, what can a Child promise more? they who pretend
beyond this, flatter_. When the old man, sorry to hear this, and wishing
her to recall those words, persisted asking, with a loiall sadness at
her Father's infirmity, but something on the sudden, harsh, and
glancing, rather at her Sisters, then speaking her own mind, _Two waies
only_, saith she, _I have to answer what you require mee; the former,
Your command is, I should recant; accept then this other which is left
me; look how much you have, so much is your value, and so much I love
you_. _Then hear thou_, quoth _Leir_ now all in passion, _what thy
ingratitude hath gained thee; because thou hast not reverenced thy aged
father equall to thy Sisters, part in my Kingdom, or what else is mine
reck'n to have none_. And without delay gives in marriage his other
Daughters, _Gonorill_ to _Maglannus_ Duke of Albana, _Regan_ to
_Henninus_ Duke of _Cornwal_; with them in present half his Kingdom; the
rest to follow at his Death. In the mean while Fame was not sparing to
divulge the wisdom, and other Graces of _Cordeilla_, insomuch that
_Aganippus a great King in Gaul_ (however he came by his Greek name)
seeks her to Wife, and nothing alter'd at the loss of her Dowry, receavs
her gladly in such manner as she was sent him. After this _King Leir_,
more and more drooping with years, became an easy prey to his Daughters
and thir Husbands; who now by dayly encroachment had seis'd the whole
Kingdom into thir hands: and the old King is put to sojorn with his
Eldest Daughter, attended only by three score Knights. But they in a
short while grudged at, as too numerous and disorderly for continuall
guests, are reduced to thirty. Not brooking that affront, the old King
betakes him to his second Daughter; but there also discord soon arising
between the Servants of differing Masters in one Family, five only are
suffer'd to attend him. Then back again he returns to the other; hoping
that she his Eldest could not but have more pity on his Gray Hairs: but
she now refuses to admitt him, unless he be content with one only of his
followers. At last the remembrance of his youngest _Cordeilla_ comes to
his thoughts; and now acknowledging how true her words had bin, though
with little hope from whom he had so injur'd, be it but to pay her the
last recompence she can have from him, his confession of her wise
forewarning, that so perhaps his misery, the prooff and experiment of
her Wisdom, might somthing soft'n her, he takes his Journey into
_France_. Now might be seen a difference between the silent, or
downright spok'n affection of som Children to thir Parents, and the
talkative obsequiousness of others: while the hope of Inheritance
over-acts them, and on the Tongue's end enlarges thir duty. _Cordeilla_
out of meer love, without the suspicion of expected reward, at the
message only of her Father in distress, pours forth true filial tears.
And not enduring either that her own, or any other Eye should see him in
such forlorn condition as his Messenger declar'd, discreetly appoints
one of her trusted Servants, first to convay him privately toward som
good Sea Town, there to array him, bathe him, cherish him, furnish him
with such Attendance and State, as beseem'd his Dignity. That then, as
from his first Landing, he might send word of his Arrival to her Husband
_Aganippus_. Which don with all mature and requisite contrivance,
_Cordeilla_ with the King her Husband, and all the Barony of his Realm,
who then first had news of his passing the Sea, goe out to meet him; and
after all honourable and joyfull entertainment, _Aganippus_, as to his
Wives Father, and his Royall Guest, surrenders him, during his abode
there, the power, and disposal of his whole Dominion; permitting his
Wife _Cordeilla_ to go with an Army, and set her Father upon his Throne.
Wherein her piety so prospered, as that she vanquished her impious
Sisters with those Dukes, and _Leir_ again, as saith the story, three
years obtained the Crown. To whom dying, _Cordeilla_ with all regal
Solemnities gave Burial in the Town of _Leicester_. And then as right
Heir succeeding, and her Husband dead, rul'd the land five years in
peace." (Milton, _History of England_, book i.)--ED.]
[Footnote AD: See Milton's _History of England_, book iii.--ED.]
[Footnote AE: The sword Excalibur, given to King Arthur by the Lady of
the Lake. Compare Tennyson's _Morte d'Arthur_.--ED.]
[Footnote AF: The following is Milton's account of _Gorbonian_,
_Archigallo_, and _Elidure_:--"_Gorbonian_ the Eldest of his five Sons,
then whom a juster man liv'd not in his Age, was a great builder of
Temples, and gave to all what was thir due; to his Gods devout Worship,
to men of desert honour and preferment; to the Commons encouragement in
thir Labours, and Trades, defence and protection from injuries and
oppressions, so that the Land florish'd above her Neighbours, Violence
and Wrong seldom was heard of; his Death was a general loss; he was
buried in _Trinovant_.
"_Archigallo_ the second Brother followed not his Example; but depress'd
the ancient Nobility, and by peeling the wealthier sort, stuff'd his
Treasury, and took the right way to be depos'd.
"_Elidure_ the next Brother, surnamed the Pious, was set up in his
place; a mind so noble, and so moderat, as almost is incredible to have
bin ever found. For having held the Scepter five years, hunting one day
in the Forest of _Calater_, he chanc'd to meet his deposed Brother,
wandering in mean condition; who had bin long in vain beyond the Seas,
importuning Foren aides to his Restorement: and was now in a poor Habit,
with only ten followers, privatly return'd to find subsistence among his
secret friends. At the unexpected sight of him, _Elidure_ himself also
then but thinly accompanied, runs to him with open Arms; and after many
dear and sincere welcomings, convaies him to the Citty _Alclud_; there
hides him in his own Bed-Chamber. Afterwards faining himself sick,
summons all his Peers as about greatest affairs; where admitting them
one by one, as if his weakness endur'd not the disturbance of more at
once, causes them, willing or unwilling, once more to swear Allegiance
to _Archigallo_. Whom after reconciliation made on all sides, he leads
to _York_: and from his own Head, places the Crown on the Head of his
Brother, who thenceforth, Vice itself dissolving in him, and forgetting
her firmest hold with the admiration of a deed so Heroic, became a true
converted man: rul'd worthily 10 years; dy'd and was Buried in
_Caer-Leir_. Thus was a Brother saved by a Brother, to whom love of a
Crown, the thing that so often dazles, and vitiates mortal man, for
which thousands of neerest blood have destroy'd each other, was in
respect of Brotherly dearness, a contemptible thing." (Milton, _History
of England_, book i.)--ED.]
[Footnote AG: The legendary story tells that Brutus, the founder of the
British race, having come from Troy (see note [A] to p. 45), "in a
chosen place builds _Troia nova_, changed in time to _Trinovantum_, now
_London_."--ED.]
[Footnote AH: It may not be too insignificant to note that it was Diana,
the "Goddess of the chase," whom Brutus, according to the legend,
consulted as to where he should settle, and who directed him to the land
"to the West, in th' Ocean wide." (See note U p. 45.)--ED.]
[Footnote AI: See Milton's _History of England_, quoted in footnote,
p. 51.--ED.]
[Footnote AJ: The various (tentative) versions of _Artegal and
Elidure_--especially of some of the stanzas--are more numerous than in
the case of any other poem I have seen in MS., and several of them may
be preserved.
STANZA 1
Where be the Temples which in Albion's Isle,
As stories tell, the Trojan Brutus reared?
The form and substance of each stately pile
Were gone, the very dust had disappeared;
Ere Julius reached the white-cliffed shore,
They sank, delivered o'er
To utter dissolution, whence I ween
A general doubt prevails, if such have ever been.
Sunk are the Temples which, as stories tell,
In Britain's Isle the Trojan Brutus reared,
For his transplanted Gods therein to dwell?
Ere Julius landed on the white-cliffed shore,
The sacred structures were delivered o'er
To utter desolation, whence I ween
A general doubt prevails if such have ever been.
Where be the Temples which in Britain's Isle,
As legends tell, the Trojan Founder reared?
Gone like a dream of morning, or a pile
{ Of glittering clouds that in the East appeared. }
{ Of gorgeous clouds that in the west appeared. }
Ere Julius landed on her white-cliffed shore,
They sank, delivered o'er
To fatal dissolution, and I ween
No vestige there was left that such had ever been.
STANZA 2
Yet in unvanquished Cambria lay concealed
'Mid Snowdon's forests, or by Vaga's springs,
A Book whose leaves to later times revealed
The {mighty|wondrous} course of these forgotten things,
How Brutus sailed, by oracles impelled,
And hideous giants quelled,
A Brood whom no civility could melt,
Who never tasted grace, and goodness ne'er had felt.
Yet in the wilds of Cambria lay concealed
By _Snowdon's_ forests or by _Vaga's_ springs,
A Book whose leaves to later time revealed
The wondrous course of {those|long} forgotten things;
How Brutus came, etc.
A British record that had lain concealed
In old Armorica (whose sacred springs
No Gothic conqueror ever drank) revealed
The wondrous course of those forgotten things;
How Brutus came, etc.
STANZA 3
By brave Corineus aided, he subdued
And rooted out the intolerable kind,
And this too long-polluted soil imbued
With {gentle|goodly} arts, and usages refined;
Whence golden harvests, cities, warlike towers,
{ And for soft pleasures, bowers, }
{ And pleasure's {fragrant|leafy} bowers, }
Whence all the fixed delights of house and home,
Friendship that will not break, and love that cannot roam.
STANZA 4
O happy Britain! region all too fair
For fondly-favouring Nature to endure
* * * * *
Lurked many a poisonous weed;
STANZA 6
Who has not wept the wrongs of aged Lear
By his ungrateful daughter turned adrift?
Hear him, ye elements!--they cannot hear,
Nor can the winds restore his simple gift,
But One there is, a child of nature meek,
Who comes her sire to seek;
And he, recovering sense, upon her breast
Leans smilingly, and sinks into a {happy }
} rest.
{passing}
STANZA 7
{Honoured, for ever honoured be the page, }
{Prized be the Book, and honoured the Page,}
When England's Darling found a basis laid
To those dread scenes which on the tragic stage
To trembling multitudes his art displayed;
And to {that chronicle } be praise decreed
{the same for this}
That there men first did read
Of Merlin's insight into future years,
And all the mighty feats of Arthur and his peers.
STANZA 8
What wonder, then, if 'mid the vast domain
Of that rich Volume, one particular Flower
Hath breathed its fragrance seemingly in vain
And bloomed unnoticed even to this late hour,
Ye gentle Muses, your assistance grant,
While I this flower transplant
Into a garden pure of poesy,
Small garden which I tend in all humility.
The following (suppressed) Stanza followed No. 10
The winds and waves have aided him to reach
That coast, the object of his heart's desire,
But, while the crownless sovereign trod the beach,
His eyeballs kindle with resentful ire,
As if incensed with all that he beholds,
Dark fields, and naked wolds,
And these few Followers, a helpless band
That to his fortunes cleave, and wait on his command.
STANZA 12
{"Bear with me, Friends," said Artegal ashamed,}
{"Forgive this passion," Artegal exclaimed, }
And, as he spake, they dive into a wood,
And from its shady boughs protection claimed,
For light he fears, and open neighbourhood.
How changed from him who born to highest place
STANZA 13
Oft by imaginary terrors scared,
And sometimes into real dangers brought,
To Calaterium's forest he repaired,
And in its depth secure a refuge sought,
Thence to a few whom he esteems his friends
A messenger he sends,
STANZA 14
With his attendants here at break of morn,
Wandering by stealth abroad he chanced to hear
A startling outcry made by hound and horn,
From which the tusky Boar hath fled in fear,
And, etc.
STANZA 16
Feebly returned by {wandering} Artegal,
{trembling}
STANZA 17
{Heir of Gorbonian! Brother gladly met, }
{Gorbonian's heir, my brother gladly met,}
STANZA 25
And what if o'er this bright unbosoming
A cloud of time, and envious fortune past!
Have we not seen the glories of the spring
By noontide darkness veiled and overcast?
The lakes that glittered like a sunbright shield,
The sky, the gay green field,
All vanish in a moment, as if night
Were sister to the sun, and darkness born of light.
STANZA 26
But should the sun victorious glimmer forth,
Far brighter seems the wide world than before:
Such power is latent in thy native worth,
To spread delight and joy from shore to shore:
For past misdeeds how grateful to atone,
Re-seated on thy throne,
Give proof that long adversity, and pain,
And sorrow have confirmed thy inborn right to reign.
From STANZA 28 to end
The story tells that Artegal away
Was by his brother privily conveyed
To a far distant city (at that day
Alclwyd named), whose fortress undismayed
By the hostility of mortals stood
In sight of field and flood,
Obnoxious only on the lofty Rock
To the careering storm, and perilous lightning stroke.
When this impregnable retreat was gained,
In prudent furtherance of his just intent,
King Elidure a mortal illness feigned,
And to his mightiest Lords a summons sent
Softly, and one by one into the gloom,
(As suits a sick man's room),
The attendants introduced each potent peer,
There, singly and alone, his sovereign will to hear.
Said Elidure, Behold our rightful King,
The banished Artegal, before thee stands:
Kneel, and renew to him the offering
Of thy allegiance; justice this demands,
Immortal justice, speaking through my voice,
Accept him, and rejoice.
... he will prove
Worthier than I have been of reverence and love.
If firm command and mild persuasion failed
To change the temper of an adverse mind,
With such by other engines he prevailed,
Threatening to fling their bodies to the wind
From the dread summit of the lonely block,
That castle-crested Rock,
Alclwyd then, but now Dunbarton named,
A memorable crag through spacious Albion famed.
Departing thence, to York their way they bent,
While the glad people flowers before them strewed,
And then King Elidure with full consent
Of all his peers, before the multitude
Upon his brother's head he placed the crown,
Relinquished by his own;
Triumph of justice, and affection pure,
Whence he the title gained of "pious Elidure."
The people answered with a loud acclaim,
Through admiration of the heroic deed.
The reinstated Artegal became
Earth's noblest penitent; from bondage freed
Of vice, henceforth unable to control
The motions of his soul.
{And when he died, the worthy and the brave }
{Shed tears of fond regret upon his honoured grave.}
{Long did he reign: and, when he died, the tear }
{Of fond regret was shed upon his honoured bier. }
Thus was a Brother by a Brother saved.
With whom a crown (temptation that hath set
Discord in hearts of men till they have braved
Their nearest kin in deadly battle met),
With duty weighed, and faithful love did seem
A thing of no esteem;
And from this triumph of affection pure,
He won the lasting name of "pious Elidure."
]
TO B. R. HAYDON
Composed December 1815.--Published March 31, 1816.
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets." The title "Esq." was appended to the
name in the editions of 1820 to 1832.--ED.
High is our calling, Friend!--Creative Art
(Whether the instrument of words she use,
Or pencil pregnant with ethereal hues)
Demands the service of a mind and heart,
Though sensitive, yet, in their weakest part, 5
Heroically fashioned--to infuse
Faith in the whispers of the lonely Muse,
While the whole world seems adverse to desert.
And, oh! when Nature sinks, as oft she may
Through long-lived pressure of obscure distress, 10
Still to be strenuous for the bright reward,
And in the soul admit of no decay,
Brook no continuance of weak-mindedness--
Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
This sonnet was first published in _The Examiner_ (March 31, 1816). It
was composed in December 1815. On November 27, Haydon wrote to
Wordsworth: "I have benefited, and have been supported in the troubles
of life by your poetry. I will bear want, pain, misery, and blindness,
but I will never yield one step I have gained on the road I am
determined to travel over." (See his _Correspondence and Table Talk_,
vol. ii. pp. 19, 20.) To this Wordsworth replied in the following letter
which is explanatory of the above sonnet, and of the two sonnets that
follow it.
"RYDAL MOUNT, near AMBLESIDE,
_December 21st, 1815_.
* * * * *
"Now for the poems, which are sonnets: one composed the evening I
received your letter; the other the next day; and the third the day
following. I shall not transcribe them in the order in which they were
written, but inversely.
"The last you will find was occasioned, I might say inspired, by your
last letter, if there be any inspiration in it; the second records a
feeling excited in me by the object it describes in the month of October
last; and the first by a still earlier sensation, which the revolution
of the year impressed me with last autumn."
(Then follow the three sonnets transcribed in the following order--
"While not a leaf seems faded; while the fields."
"How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright."
"High is our calling, Friend!--Creative Art.")
* * * * *
"With high respect, I am, my dear sir, most faithfully yours.
"WILLIAM WORDSWORTH."
(See the _Autobiography of B. R. Haydon_, vol. i. chap. xvi. p. 325.)
Haydon replied to Wordsworth, December 29 (see his _Correspondence_,
vol. ii. pp. 20-23): "I must say that I have felt melancholy ever since
receiving your sonnets, as if I was elevated so exceedingly, with such
a drunken humming in my brain, that my nature took refuge in quiet
humbleness and gratitude to God."
It will be observed that in his letter of December 21, Wordsworth
mentions the order in which these three sonnets were composed in three
consecutive days. In his subsequent arrangement of the sonnets he
altered this order, assigning "While not a leaf seems faded" to
"September," and "How clear, how keen," to "November 1" (another
instance of the inaccuracy of his dates). The detailed statement in this
letter to Haydon must be trusted, however, in preference to the
"afterthought" of the editions of 1820 and 1827. It may not be
superfluous to note the dates of the first publication of this trilogy
of sonnets, all of which Wordsworth sent to _The Examiner_.
"How clear, how keen," etc. Jan. 28th. }
"While not a leaf," etc. Feb. 11th. } 1816.
"High is our calling," etc. March 31st. }
ED.
NOVEMBER 1
Composed October 1815.--Published January 28, 1816
[Suggested on the banks of the Brathay by the sight of Langdale Pikes.
It is delightful to remember these moments of far-distant days, which
probably would have been forgotten if the impression had not been
transferred to verse. The same observation applies to the next.[AK]--I.
F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets." In the editions of 1816 and 1820 the
title was _November 1, 1815_.--ED.
How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright
The effluence from yon distant mountain's head,
Which, strewn with snow smooth as the sky can shed,[70]
Shines like another sun--on mortal sight
Uprisen, as if to check approaching Night, 5
And all her twinkling stars. Who now would tread,
If so he might, yon mountain's glittering head--
Terrestrial, but a surface, by the flight
Of sad mortality's earth-sullying wing,
Unswept, unstained? Nor shall the aërial Powers 10
Dissolve that beauty, destined to endure,
White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure,
Through all vicissitudes, till genial Spring
Has[71] filled the laughing vales with welcome flowers.
This sonnet originally appeared in _The Examiner_, January 28, 1816. It
is rare indeed, if ever, that the Langdale Pikes retain the first snows
of November till spring; although, as described in another poem, the
cove on Helvellyn, in which Red Tarn lies--sheltered from the sun, and
high up on the mountain--may
Keep till June December's snow.
See _Fidelity_ (vol. iii. p. 44), and the note to the sonnet addressed
to Haydon, p. 62 of this vol.--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 70: 1837.
... as smooth as Heaven can shed, 1816.
... smooth as the heaven can shed, 1832.
]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote AK: _i.e._ the sonnet entitled _Composed during a Storm_,
which followed _November 1_ in the edition in which the Fenwick notes
first appeared.]
SEPTEMBER, 1815
Composed October 1815.--Published February 11, 1816
["For me, who under kindlier laws." This conclusion has more than once,
to my great regret, excited painfully sad feelings in the hearts of
young persons fond of poetry and poetic composition, by contrast of
their feeble and declining health with that state of robust constitution
which prompted me to rejoice in a season of frost and snow as more
favourable to the Muses than summer itself.--I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.
While not a leaf seems faded; while the fields,
With ripening harvest[72] prodigally fair,
In brightest sunshine bask; this nipping air,
Sent from some distant clime where Winter wields
His icy scimitar, a foretaste yields 5
Of bitter change, and bids the flowers beware;
And whispers to the silent birds, "Prepare
Against the threatening foe your trustiest shields."
For me, who under kindlier laws belong
To Nature's tuneful quire, this rustling dry 10
Through leaves yet green,[73] and yon crystalline sky,
Announce a season potent to renew,
'Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song,
And nobler cares than listless summer knew.
This sonnet was first published in _The Examiner_, February 11, 1816.
See the note to the sonnet addressed to Haydon, p. 62.--ED.
[Footnote 71: 1838.
Have ... 1816.
]
"THE FAIREST, BRIGHTEST, HUES OF ETHER FADE"
Published 1815
[Suggested at Hackett, which is on the craggy ridge that rises between
the two Langdales, and looks towards Windermere. The Cottage of Hackett
was often visited by us, and at the time when this Sonnet was written,
and long after, was occupied by the husband and wife described in _The
Excursion_, where it is mentioned that she was in the habit of walking
in the front of the dwelling with a light to guide her husband home at
night. The same cottage is alluded to in the _Epistle to Sir George
Beaumont_, as that from which the female peasant hailed us on our
morning journey. The musician mentioned in the sonnet was the Rev.
Samuel Tillbrook of Peter-house, Cambridge, who remodelled the Ivy
Cottage at Rydal after he had purchased it.--I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.
The fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade;
The sweetest notes must terminate and die;
O Friend! thy flute has breathed a harmony
Softly resounded through this rocky glade;
Such strains of rapture as[AL] the Genius played 5
In his still haunt on Bagdad's summit high;
He who stood visible to Mirza's eye,
Never before to human sight betrayed.
Lo, in the vale, the mists of evening spread!
The visionary Arches are not there, 10
Nor the green Islands, nor the shining Seas;
Yet sacred is to me this Mountain's head,
Whence I have risen, uplifted[74] on the breeze
Of harmony, above all earthly care.
The following reference to Mr. Tillbrook, referred to in the Fenwick
note, is from the _Diary, Correspondence, etc._, of Henry Crabb
Robinson, September 5, 1816:--"An evening was spent at Wordsworth's. Mr.
Tillbrook, of Cambridge, formerly Thomas Clarkson's tutor, was there....
Mr. Walter sang some airs to Mr. Tillbrook's flute."--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 72: 1820.
With ripening harvests ... 1816.
]
[Footnote 73: 1827.
Through the green leaves, ... 1816.
]
[Footnote 74: 1837.
From which I have been lifted ... 1815.
]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote AL: See the vision of Mirza in the _Spectator_.--W. W. 1815.]
"WEAK IS THE WILL OF MAN, HIS JUDGMENT BLIND"
Published 1815
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.