appearance as it stood, in a decayed state, by the side of the high
road leading from Penrith to Appleby. This whole neighbourhood abounds
in interesting traditions and vestiges of antiquity, viz., Julian's
Bower; Brougham and Penrith Castles; Penrith Beacon, and the curious
remains in Penrith Churchyard; Arthur's Round Table,[729] and, close
by, Maybrough; the excavation, called the Giant's Cave, on the banks
of the Emont; Long Meg and her Daughters, near Eden, etc., etc.--W. W.
1835.
[727] "So say the Countess's Memoirs; but they probably mistake Redkirk
for Ninekirks in this parish. A runnel, called Hart-horn Sike, in
Whinfell Park, is mentioned in the partition of the Veteripont estate,
between Isabella and Idonea."--Burn's _History of Westmoreland and
Cumberland_.--ED.
[728] 1845.
but the author of these poems well remembers its ... 1835.
[729] 1845.
Table; the Excavation ... 1835.
XXIII
FANCY AND TRADITION
The Lovers took within this ancient grove
Their last embrace; beside those crystal springs[730]
The Hermit saw the Angel spread his wings
For instant flight; the Sage in yon alcove[731]
Sate musing; on that hill the Bard would rove, 5
Not mute, where now the linnet only sings:
Thus every where to truth Tradition clings,[732]
Or Fancy localises Powers we love.
Were only History[733] licensed to take note
Of things gone by, her meagre monuments 10
Would ill suffice for persons and events:
There is an ampler page for man to quote,
A readier book of manifold contents,
Studied alike in palace and in cot.
FOOTNOTES:
[730] 1835.
There fell the Hero in this ancient grove
The lovers pledged their faith beside these springs.
MS.
[731] 1835.
... this alcove
MS.
[732] 1835.
Thus to the truth Tradition fondly clings
MS.
[733] 1835.
Were History only ...
MS.
XXIV
COUNTESS' PILLAR[734]
On the roadside between Penrith and Appleby, there stands a pillar with
the following inscription:--
"This Pillar was erected, anno 1656, By ye Rt honoble Anne Countess
Dowager of Pembrock etc., Daughter and sole heire of ye Rt honoble
George Earl of Cumberland, etc., for a memorial of her last parting
in this place with her good and pious mother, ye Rt honoble Margaret,
Countess Dowagr of Cumberland ye 2d of April 1616. In memory whereof
she also left an annuity of four pounds to be distributed to ye poor
within this parish of Brougham every 2d day of April for ever, upon ye
stone table here hard by. Laus Deo!"--W. W.
[Suggested by the recollection of Julian's Bower and other traditions
connected with this ancient forest.--I.F.]
While the Poor gather round, till the end of time
May this bright flower of Charity display
Its bloom, unfolding at the appointed day;
Flower than the loveliest of the vernal prime
Lovelier--transplanted from heaven's purest clime! 5
"Charity never faileth:" on that creed,
More than on written testament or deed,
The pious Lady built with hope sublime.
Alms on this stone to be dealt out, _for ever_!
"LAUS DEO." Many a Stranger passing by 10
Has with that Parting mixed a filial sigh,
Blest its humane Memorial's fond endeavour;
And, fastening on those lines an eye tear-glazed,
Has ended, though no Clerk, with "God be praised!"
FOOTNOTES:
[734] The Countess' Pillar is an octagonal one, on the high road from
Penrith, a couple of miles out of the town on the Appleby road, a
quarter of a mile from Brougham Castle, and over eleven miles from
Appleby. It is somewhat weather-worn, but is preserved with care. On
the north side of the pillar are the Pembroke Arms, and the date 1654.
The inscription is in a copper plate, sunk in the stone. I have copied
the "inscription" from the pillar itself, and have corrected, in what
is given above, some errata in the poet's transcript of it.--ED.
XXV
ROMAN ANTIQUITIES
[FROM THE ROMAN STATION AT OLD PENRITH]
How profitless the relics that we cull,
Troubling the last holds of ambitious Rome,
Unless they chasten fancies that presume
Too high, or idle agitations lull!
Of the world's flatteries if the brain be full, 5
To have no seat for thought were better doom,
Like this old helmet, or the eyeless skull
Of him who gloried in its nodding plume.
Heaven out of view, our wishes what are they?
Our fond regrets tenacious[735] in their grasp? 10
The Sage's theory? the Poet's lay?--
Mere Fibulae without a robe to clasp;
Obsolete lamps, whose light no time recals;
Urns without ashes, tearless lacrymals!
I am indebted to Dr. Taylor of Penrith for the following note in
reference to these "Roman Antiquities" at Old Penrith:--"I have great
pleasure in giving you what information I can, concerning the Roman
Station of Old Penrith. It is called 'Petriana' by Camden, but most
archaeologists now allocate it in the '2nd Iter,' as the Station
'Voreda'--on the road between York and Carlisle. This road passes over
Stanemoor, by Bowes, Brough, Kirkbythore, Brougham, and Plumpton Wall
(or Voreda), to Lugovallum or Carlisle. The Roman Camps are visible
at all these places, and the old Roman road is recognisable in many
parts. This Old Penrith, Plumpton Wall, or Voreda, is a camp of the
third class. At a time, probably about the period which Wordsworth
alludes to, several Roman stones and altars were dug up at Voreda, and
are now deposited in Lowther Castle. Wordsworth had relations living in
Penrith, whom he used to visit occasionally, and it is probable that
after a visit to Voreda, which is about six miles from here, he wrote
the Sonnet alluded to. The 'Hart-horn Tree' referred to in the 'Legend
of the Hunt of the Stag' stood in the park of Whinfell, in the parish
of Brougham, but has disappeared for many years."--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[735] 1837.
... insatiate ... 1835.
Our fond regrets, all that our hopes would grasp C.
XXVI
APOLOGY[736]
FOR THE FOREGOING POEMS
No more: the end is sudden and abrupt,
Abrupt--as without preconceived design
Was the beginning; yet the several Lays
Have moved in order, to each other bound
By a continuous and acknowledged tie 5
Though unapparent--like those Shapes distinct
That yet survive ensculptured on the walls
Of palaces, or temples,[737] 'mid the wreck
Of famed Persepolis;[738] each following each,
As might beseem a stately embassy,
In set array; these bearing in their hands
Ensign of civil power, weapon of war,
Or gift to be presented at the throne
Of the Great King; and others, as they go
In priestly vest, with holy offerings charged, 15
Or leading victims drest for sacrifice.
Nor will the Power we serve, that sacred Power,
The Spirit of humanity, disdain
A[739] ministration humble but sincere,
That from a threshold loved by every Muse 20
Its impulse took--that sorrow-stricken door,
Whence, as a current from its fountain-head,
Our thoughts have issued, and our feelings flowed,
Receiving, willingly or not, fresh strength
From kindred sources; while around us sighed 25
(Life's three first seasons having passed away)
Leaf-scattering winds; and hoar-frost sprinklings fell
(Foretaste of winter) on the moorland heights;
And every day brought with it tidings new
Of rash change, ominous for the public weal. 30
Hence, if dejection has[740] too oft encroached
Upon that sweet and tender melancholy
Which may itself be cherished and caressed
More than enough; a fault so natural
(Even with the young, the hopeful, or the gay) 35
For prompt forgiveness will not sue in vain.
FOOTNOTES:
[736] In the edition of 1835 the title was _Apology_.
[737] 1845.
Of Palace, or of Temple, ... 1835.
[738] Compare _Processions in the Vale of Chamouny_, in the "Memorials
of a Tour on the Continent," 1820, vol. vi. p. 363.--ED.
[739] 1837.
Nor will the Muse condemn, or treat with scorn
Our ... 1835.
[740] 1837.
... have ... 1835.
XXVII
THE HIGHLAND BROACH
The exact resemblance which the old Broach (still in use, though rarely
met with, among the Highlanders) bears to the Roman Fibula must
strike every one, and concurs, with the plaid and kilt, to recall to
mind the communication which the ancient Romans had with this remote
country.--W. W. 1835.
[On ascending a hill that leads from Loch Awe towards Inverary, I fell
into conversation with a woman of the humbler class who wore one of
those Highland Broaches. I talked with her about it; and upon parting
with her, when I said with a kindness I truly felt--"May that Broach
continue in your family through many generations to come, as you have
already possessed it"--she thanked me most becomingly and seemed not a
little moved.--I.F.]
If to Tradition faith be due
And echoes from old verse speak true
Ere the meek Saint, Columba, bore
Glad tidings to Iona's shore,
No common light of nature blessed 5
The mountain region of the west,
A land where gentle manners ruled
O'er men in dauntless virtues schooled,
That raised, for centuries, a bar
Impervious to the tide of war: 10
Yet peaceful Arts did entrance gain
Where haughty Force had striven in vain;
And, 'mid the works of skilful hands,
By wanderers brought from foreign lands
And various climes, was not unknown 15
The clasp that fixed the Roman Gown;
The Fibula, whose shape, I ween,
Still in the Highland Broach is seen,
The silver Broach of massy frame,
Worn at the breast of some grave Dame 20
On road or path, or at the door
Of fern-thatched hut on heathy moor:
But delicate of yore its mould,
And the material finest gold;
As might beseem the fairest Fair, 25
Whether she graced a royal chair,
Or shed, within a vaulted hall,
No fancied lustre on the wall
Where shields of mighty heroes hung,
While Fingal heard what Ossian sung. 30
The heroic Age expired--it slept
Deep in its tomb:--the bramble crept
O'er Fingal's hearth; the grassy sod
Grew on the floors his sons had trod:
Malvina! where art thou? Their state 35
The noblest-born must abdicate;
The fairest, while with fire and sword
Come Spoilers--horde impelling horde,
Must walk the sorrowing mountains, drest
By ruder hands in homelier vest. 40
Yet still the female bosom lent,
And loved to borrow, ornament;
Still was its inner world a place
Reached by the dews of heavenly grace;
Still pity to this last retreat 45
Clove fondly; to his favourite seat
Love wound his way by soft approach,
Beneath a massier Highland Broach.
When alternations came of rage
Yet fiercer, in a darker age; 50
And feuds, where, clan encountering clan,
The weaker perished to a man;
For maid and mother, when despair
Might else have triumphed, baffling prayer,
One small possession lacked not power, 55
Provided in a calmer hour,
To meet such need as might befal--
Roof, raiment, bread, or burial:
For woman, even of tears bereft,
The hidden silver Broach was left. 60
As generations come and go
Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow;
Fate, fortune, sweep strong powers away,
And feeble, of themselves, decay;
What poor abodes the heir-loom hide, 65
In which the castle once took pride!
Tokens, once kept as boasted wealth,
If saved at all, are saved by stealth.
Lo! ships, from seas by nature barred,
Mount along ways by man prepared; 70
And in far-stretching vales, whose streams
Seek other seas, their canvas gleams.
Lo! busy towns spring up, on coasts
Thronged yesterday by airy ghosts;
Soon, like a lingering star forlorn 75
Among the novelties of morn,
While young delights on old encroach,
Will vanish the last Highland Broach.
But when, from out their viewless bed,
Like vapours, years have rolled and spread; 80
And this poor verse, and worthier lays,
Shall yield no light of love or praise;
Then, by the spade, or cleaving plough,
Or torrent from the mountain's brow,
Or whirlwind, reckless what his might 85
Entombs, or forces into light;
Blind Chance, a volunteer ally,
That oft befriends Antiquity,
And clears Oblivion from reproach,
May render back the Highland Broach.[741] 90
FOOTNOTES:
[741] How much the Broach is sometimes prized by persons in humble
stations may be gathered from an occurrence mentioned to me by a
female friend. She had had an opportunity of benefiting a poor old
woman in her own hut, who, wishing to make a return, said to her
daughter in Erse, in a tone of plaintive earnestness, "I would give
anything I have, but I _hope_ she does not wish for my Broach!" and,
uttering these words, she put her hand upon the Broach which fastened
her kerchief, and which, she imagined, had attracted the eye of her
benefactress.--W. W. 1835.
1832
The poems written in 1832 were few. They include _Devotional
Incitements_, an _Evening Voluntary_, _Rural Illusions_, and a few
sonnets.--ED.
DEVOTIONAL INCITEMENTS
Composed 1832.--Published 1835
[Written at Rydal Mount.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
"Not to the earth confined,
Ascend to heaven."[742]
Where will they stop, those breathing Powers,
The Spirits of the new-born flowers?
They wander with the breeze, they wind
Where'er the streams a passage find;
Up from their native ground they rise 5
In mute aërial harmonies;[743]
From humble violet--modest thyme--
Exhaled, the essential odours climb,
As if no space below the sky
Their subtle flight could satisfy: 10
Heaven will not tax our thoughts with pride
If like ambition be _their_ guide.
Roused by this kindliest of May-showers,
The spirit-quickener of the flowers,
That with moist virtue softly cleaves 15
The buds, and freshens the young leaves,
The birds pour forth their souls in notes
Of rapture from a thousand throats--
Here checked by too impetuous haste,
While there the music runs to waste, 20
With bounty more and more enlarged,
Till the whole air is overcharged;
Give ear, O Man! to their appeal
And thirst for no inferior zeal,
Thou, who canst _think_, as well as feel. 25
Mount from the earth; aspire! aspire!
So pleads the town's cathedral quire,
In strains that from their solemn height
Sink, to attain a loftier flight;
While incense from the altar breathes 30
Rich fragrance in embodied wreaths;
Or, flung from swinging censer, shrouds
The taper-lights, and curls in clouds
Around angelic Forms, the still
Creation of the painter's skill, 35
That on the service wait concealed
One moment, and the next revealed.
--Cast off your bonds, awake, arise,
And for no transient ecstasies!
What else can mean the visual plea 40
Of still or moving imagery--
The iterated summons loud,
Not wasted on the attendant crowd,
Nor wholly lost upon the throng
Hurrying the busy streets along? 45
Alas! the sanctities combined
By art to unsensualise the mind,
Decay and languish; or, as creeds
And humours change, are spurned like weeds:
The priests are from their altars thrust; 50
Temples are levelled with the dust;
And solemn rites and awful forms
Founder amid fanatic storms.[744][745]
Yet evermore, through years renewed
In undisturbed vicissitude 55
Of seasons balancing their flight
On the swift wings of day and night,
Kind Nature keeps a heavenly door
Wide open for the scattered Poor.
Where flower-breathed incense to the skies 60
Is wafted in mute harmonies;
And ground fresh-cloven by the plough
Is fragrant with a humbler vow;
Where birds and brooks from leafy dells
Chime forth unwearied canticles, 65
And vapours magnify and spread
The glory of the sun's bright head--
Still constant in her worship, still
Conforming to the eternal Will,[746]
Whether men sow or reap the fields, 70
Divine monition[747] Nature yields,
That not by bread alone we live,
Or what a hand of flesh can give;
That every day should leave some part
Free for a sabbath of the heart: 75
So shall the seventh be truly blest,
From morn to eve, with hallowed rest.
FOOTNOTES:
[742] See _Paradise Lost_, book v. ll. 78-80--
Not to Earth confined,
But sometimes in the Air, as we; sometimes
Ascend to heaven.
ED.
[743] Compare, in Bacon's _Essays_, No. 46, 'Of Gardens,' "The _Breath_
of Flowers is farre Sweeter in the Aire, when it comes and goes, like
the Warbling of Musick."--ED.
[744] 1836.
The solemn rites, the awful forms,
Founder amid fanatic storms;
The priests are from their altars thrust,
The temples levelled with the dust: 1835.
[745] Compare a passage in Daniel's _Musopilus_, beginning--
Sacred Religion! mother of form and fear!
How gorgeously sometimes dost thou sit decked!--ED.
[746] 1836.
... almighty Will, 1835.
[747] 1845.
Her admonitions Nature yields; 1835.
Divine admonishment She yields, 1836.
"CALM IS THE FRAGRANT AIR, AND LOTH TO LOSE"
Composed 1832.--Published 1835
One of the "Evening Voluntaries."--ED.
Calm is the fragrant air, and loth to lose
Day's grateful warmth, tho' moist with falling dews.
Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none;
Look up a second time, and, one by one,
You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, 5
And wonder how they could elude the sight!
The birds, of late so noisy in their bowers,
Warbled a while with faint and fainter powers,
But now are silent as the dim-seen flowers:
Nor does the village Church-clock's iron tone 10
The time's and season's influence disown;
Nine beats distinctly to each other bound
In drowsy sequence--how unlike the sound
That, in rough winter, oft inflicts a fear
On fireside listeners, doubting what they hear! 15
The shepherd, bent on rising with the sun,
Had closed his door before the day was done,
And now with thankful heart to bed doth creep,
And joins[748] his little children in their sleep.
The bat, lured forth where trees the lane o'ershade, 20
Flits and reflits along the close arcade;
The busy[749] dor-hawk chases the white moth
With burring note, which Industry and Sloth
Might both be pleased with, for it suits them both.
A stream is heard--I see it not, but know 25
By its soft music whence the waters flow:
Wheels[750] and the tread of hoofs are heard no more;
One boat there was, but it will touch the shore
With the next dipping of its slackened oar;
Faint sound, that, for the gayest of the gay, 30
Might give to serious thought a moment's sway,
As a last token of man's toilsome day!
FOOTNOTES:
[748] 1837.
And join ... 1835.
[749] 1837.
Far-heard the ... 1835.
[750] 1837.
... both.
Wheels ... 1835.
TO THE AUTHOR'S PORTRAIT
Painted at Rydal Mount, by W. Pickersgill, Esq., for St. John's
College, Cambridge.--ED.
Composed 1832.--Published 1835
[The last six lines of this Sonnet are not written for poetical effect,
but as a matter of fact, which, in more than one instance, could not
escape my notice in the servants of the house.--I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.
Go, faithful Portrait! and where long hath knelt
Margaret, the saintly Foundress, take thy place;
And, if Time spare the colours[751] for the grace
Which to the work surpassing skill hath dealt,
Thou, on thy rock reclined, though kingdoms melt 5
And states be torn up by the roots,[752] wilt seem
To breathe in rural peace, to hear the stream,[753]
And[754] think and feel as once the Poet felt.
Whate'er thy fate, those features have not grown
Unrecognised through many a household tear[755] 10
More prompt, more glad, to fall than drops of dew
By morning shed around a flower half-blown;
Tears of delight, that testified how true
To life thou art, and, in thy truth, how dear!
FOOTNOTES:
[751] The colour has already faded somewhat. The portrait is reproduced
in volume vi. of this edition.--ED.
[752] Compare _Elegiac Musings_, p. 269.--ED.
[753] 1835.
Before the breath of change unchanged wilt seem,
Green Hills in sight, and listening to the stream,
MS.
[754] 1837.
To ... 1835.
[755] 1835.
... falling tear
MS.
... starting tear
MS.
RURAL ILLUSIONS
Composed 1832.--Published 1835
[Written at Rydal Mount. Observed a hundred times in the grounds
there.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy."--ED.
Sylph was it? or a Bird more bright
Than those of fabulous stock?
A second darted by;--and lo!
Another of the flock,
Through sunshine flitting from the bough 5
To nestle in the rock.
Transient deception! a gay freak
Of April's mimicries!
Those brilliant strangers, hailed with joy
Among the budding trees, 10
Proved last year's leaves, pushed from the spray
To frolic on the breeze.
Maternal Flora! show thy face,
And let thy hand be seen,
Thy hand here sprinkling tiny flowers,[756] 15
That, as they touch the green,
Take root (so seems it) and look up
In honour of their Queen.
Yet, sooth, those little starry specks,
That not in vain aspired 20
To be confounded with live growths,
Most dainty, most admired,
Were only blossoms dropped from twigs
Of their own offspring tired.
Not such the World's illusive shows; 25
_Her_ wingless flutterings,
Her blossoms which, though shed, outbrave
The floweret as it springs,
For the undeceived, smile as they may,
Are melancholy things: 30
But gentle Nature plays her part
With ever-varying wiles,
And transient feignings with plain truth
So well she reconciles,
That those fond Idlers most are pleased 35
Whom oftenest she beguiles.
FOOTNOTES:
[756] 1836.
Which sprinkles here these tiny flowers, 1835.
LOVING AND LIKING
IRREGULAR VERSES
ADDRESSED TO A CHILD
(BY MY SISTER)[757]
Composed 1832.--Published 1835.
[Written at Rydal Mount. It arose, I believe, out of a casual
expression of one of Mr. Swinburne's children.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."--ED.
There's more in words than I can teach:
Yet listen, Child!--I would not preach;
But only give some plain directions
To guide your speech and your affections.
Say not you _love_ a roasted fowl, 5
But you may love a screaming owl,
And, if you can, the unwieldy toad
That crawls from his secure abode
Within the mossy garden wall
When evening dews begin to fall. 10
Oh mark the beauty of his eye:
What wonders in that circle lie!
So clear, so bright, our fathers said
He wears a jewel in his head!
And when, upon some showery day, 15
Into a path or public way
A frog leaps out from bordering grass,
Startling the timid as they pass,
Do you observe him, and endeavour
To take the intruder into favour; 20
Learning from him to find a reason
For a light heart in a dull season.
And you may love him in the pool,
That is for him a happy school,
In which he swims as taught by nature, 25
Fit[758] pattern for a human creature,
Glancing amid the water bright,
And sending upward sparkling light.
Nor blush if o'er your heart be stealing
A love for things that have no feeling: 30
The spring's first rose by you espied,
May fill your breast with joyful pride;
And you may love the strawberry-flower,
And love the strawberry in its bower;
But when the fruit, so often praised 35
For beauty, to your lip is raised,
Say not you _love_ the delicate treat,
But _like_ it, enjoy it, and thankfully eat.
Long may you love your pensioner mouse,
Though one of a tribe that torment the house: 40
Nor dislike for her cruel sport the cat,
Deadly foe both of[759] mouse and rat;
Remember she follows the law of her kind,
And Instinct is neither wayward nor blind.
Then think of her beautiful gliding form, 45
Her tread that would scarcely[760] crush a worm,
And her soothing song by the winter fire,
Soft as the dying throb of the lyre.
I would not circumscribe your love:
It may soar with the eagle and brood with the dove, 50
May pierce the earth with the patient mole,
Or track the hedgehog to his hole.
Loving and liking are the solace of life,
Rock the cradle of joy, smooth the death-bed of strife.[761]
You love your father and your mother, 55
Your grown-up and your baby-brother;
You love your sister, and your friends,
And countless blessings which God sends:
And while these right affections play,
You _live_ each moment of your day; 60
They lead you on to full content,
And likings fresh and innocent,
That store the mind, the memory feed,
And prompt to many a gentle deed:
But _likings_ come, and pass away; 65
'Tis _love_ that remains till our latest day:
Our heavenward guide is holy love,
And will[762] be our bliss with saints above.
FOOTNOTES:
[757] 1845.
In the former editions of the author's "Miscellaneous Poems" are three
pieces addressed to Children:--the following, a few lines excepted, is
by the same Writer; and as it belongs to the same unassuming class of
compositions, she has been prevailed upon to consent to its publication.
W. W. 1835.
By the author of the Poem, "Address to a child, during a boisterous
winter evening."
W. W. 1836.
[758] 1845.
A ... 1835.
[759] 1845.
That deadly foe of both ... 1835.
That deadly foe both of ... 1836.
[760] 1836.
... not ... 1835.
[761] 1840.
They foster all joy, and extinguish all strife. 1835.
[762] 1845.
And it will ... 1835.
UPON THE LATE GENERAL FAST[763]
MARCH, 1832
Composed 1832.--Published 1832
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order."--ED.
Reluctant call it was; the rite delayed;
And in the Senate some there were who doffed
The last of their humanity, and scoffed
At providential judgments,[764] undismayed
By their own daring. But the People prayed 5
As with one voice; their flinty heart grew soft
With penitential sorrow, and aloft
Their spirit mounted, crying, "God us aid!"
Oh that with aspirations more intense,
Chastised by self-abasement more profound, 10
This People, once[765] so happy, so renowned
For liberty, would seek from God defence
Against far heavier ill, the pestilence[766]
Of revolution, impiously unbound!
FOOTNOTES:
[763] 1837.
The title in 1832 was SONNET ON THE LATE GENERAL FAST, MARCH 21, 1832.
[764] 1840.
... judgment, ... 1832.
[765] 1837.
Oh that with soul-aspirings more intense
And heart-humiliations more profound
This People, long ... 1832.
[766] The fast was appointed because of an outbreak of cholera in
England.--ED.
1833
The most important of the poems written in 1833 were the Memorials
of the Tour undertaken during the summer of that year. They refer to
several Cumbrian localities, to the Isle of Man, to the Clyde, the
Western Islands of Scotland, and again to Cumberland.--ED.
A WREN'S NEST
Composed 1833.--Published 1835
[Written at Rydal Mount. This nest was built, as described, in a
tree that grows near the pool in Dora's field, next the Rydal Mount
garden.[767]--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy."--ED.
Among the dwellings framed by birds
In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little Wren's
In snugness may compare.
No door the tenement requires, 5
And seldom needs a laboured roof;
Yet is it to the fiercest sun
Impervious, and storm-proof.
So warm, so beautiful withal,
In perfect fitness for its aim, 10
That to the Kind by special grace
Their instinct surely came.
And when for their abodes they seek
An opportune recess,
The hermit has no finer eye 15
For shadowy quietness.
These find, 'mid ivied abbey-walls,
A canopy in some still nook;
Others are pent-housed by a brae
That overhangs a brook. 20
There to the brooding bird her mate
Warbles by fits his low clear song;
And by the busy streamlet both
Are sung to all day long.
Or in sequestered lanes they build, 25
Where, till the flitting bird's return,
Her eggs within the nest repose,
Like relics in an urn.
But still, where general choice is good,
There is a better and a best; 30
And, among fairest objects, some
Are fairer than the rest;
This, one of those small builders proved
In a green covert, where, from out
The forehead of a pollard oak, 35
The leafy antlers sprout;
For She who planned the mossy lodge,
Mistrusting her evasive skill,
Had to a Primrose looked for aid
Her wishes to fulfil. 40
High on the trunk's projecting brow
And fixed an infant's span above
The budding flowers, peeped forth the nest,
The prettiest of the grove!
The treasure proudly did I show 45
To some whose minds without disdain
Can turn to little things; but once
Looked up for it in vain:
'Tis gone--a ruthless spoiler's prey,
Who heeds not beauty, love, or song, 50
'Tis gone! (so seemed it) and we grieved
Indignant at the wrong.
Just three days after, passing by
In clearer light the moss-built cell
I saw, espied its shaded mouth; 55
And felt that all was well.
The Primrose for a veil had spread
The largest of her upright leaves;
And thus, for purposes benign,
A simple flower deceives. 60
Concealed from friends who might disturb
Thy quiet with no ill intent,
Secure from evil eyes and hands
On barbarous plunder bent,
Rest, Mother-bird! and when thy young 65
Take flight, and thou art free to roam,
When withered is the guardian Flower,
And empty thy late home,
Think how ye prospered, thou and thine,
Amid the unviolated grove 70
Housed near the growing Primrose-tuft
In foresight, or in love.
FOOTNOTES:
[767] Wrens still build (1896) in the same pollard oak tree, which
survives in "Dora's Field"; and primroses grow beneath it.--ED.
TO ----
UPON THE BIRTH OF HER FIRST-BORN CHILD, MARCH, 1833
"Tum porro puer, ut sævis projectus ab undis
Navita, nudus humi jacet," etc.--LUCRETIUS.[768]
Composed March 1833.--Published 1835
[Written at Moresby near Whitehaven, when I was on a visit to my
son, then incumbent of that small living. While I am dictating these
notes to my friend, Miss Fenwick, January 24, 1843, the child upon
whose birth these verses were written is under my roof, and is of a
disposition so promising that the wishes and prayers and prophecies
which I then breathed forth in verse are, through God's mercy, likely
to be realised.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--ED.
Like a shipwreck'd Sailor tost
By rough waves on a perilous coast,
Lies the Babe, in helplessness
And in tenderest nakedness,
Flung by labouring nature forth 5
Upon the mercies of the earth.
Can its eyes beseech?--no more
Than the hands are free to implore:
Voice but serves for one brief cry;
Plaint was it? or prophecy 10
Of sorrow that will surely come?
Omen of man's grievous doom!
But, O Mother! by the close
Duly granted to thy throes;
By the silent thanks, now tending 15
Incense-like to Heaven, descending
Now to mingle and to move
With the gush of earthly love,
As a debt to that frail Creature,
Instrument of struggling Nature 20
For the blissful calm, the peace
Known but to this _one_ release--
Can the pitying spirit doubt
That for human-kind springs out
From the penalty a sense 25
Of more than mortal recompense?
As a floating summer cloud,
Though of gorgeous drapery proud,
To the sun-burnt traveller,
Or the stooping labourer, 30
Oft-times makes its bounty known
By its shadow round him thrown;
So, by chequerings of sad cheer,
Heavenly Guardians, brooding near,
Of their presence tell--too bright 35
Haply for corporeal sight!
Ministers of grace divine
Feelingly their brows incline
O'er this seeming Castaway
Breathing, in the light of day, 40
Something like the faintest breath
That has power to baffle death--
Beautiful, while very weakness
Captivates like passive meekness.
And, sweet Mother! under warrant 45
Of the universal Parent,
Who repays in season due
Them who have, like thee, been true
To the filial chain let down
From his everlasting throne,[769] 50
Angels hovering round thy couch,
With their softest whispers vouch,
That--whatever griefs may fret,
Cares entangle, sins beset,
This thy First-born, and with tears 55
Stain her cheek in future years--
Heavenly succour, not denied
To the babe, whate'er betide,
Will to the woman be supplied!
Mother! blest be thy calm ease; 60
Blest the starry promises,--
And the firmament benign
Hallowed be it, where they shine!
Yes, for them whose souls have scope
Ample for a wingèd hope, 65
And can earthward bend an ear
For needful listening, pledge is here,
That, if thy new-born Charge shall tread
In thy footsteps, and be led
By that other Guide, whose light 70
Of manly virtues, mildly bright,
Gave him first the wished-for part
In thy gentle virgin heart;
Then, amid the storms of life
Presignified by that dread strife 75
Whence ye have escaped together,
She may look for serene weather;
In all trials sure to find
Comfort for a faithful mind;
Kindlier issues, holier rest, 80
Than even now await her prest,
Conscious Nursling, to thy breast!
FOOTNOTES:
[768] See _De Rerum Naturae_, lib. v. ll. 222-3.--ED.
[769] Compare _The Primrose of the Rock_, ll. 11-12.--ED.
THE WARNING
A SEQUEL TO THE FOREGOING
Composed March 1833.--Published 1835
[These lines were composed during the fever spread through the nation
by the Reform Bill. As the motives which led to this measure, and the
good or evil which has attended or has risen from it, will be duly
appreciated by future historians, there is no call for dwelling on
the subject in this place. I will content myself with saying that
the then condition of the people's mind is not, in these verses,
exaggerated.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--ED.
List, the winds of March are blowing;
Her ground-flowers shrink, afraid of showing
Their meek heads to the nipping air,
Which ye feel not, happy pair!
Sunk into a kindly sleep. 5
We, meanwhile, our hope will keep;
And if Time leagued with adverse Change
(Too busy fear!) shall cross its range,
Whatsoever check they bring,
Anxious duty hindering, 10
To like hope[770] our prayers will cling.
Thus, while the ruminating spirit feeds
Upon the events of home[771] as life proceeds,
Affections pure and holy in their source
Gain a fresh impulse, run a livelier course; 15
Hopes that within the Father's heart prevail,
Are in the experienced Grandsire's slow to fail;
And if the harp pleased his gay youth, it rings
To his grave touch with no unready strings,
While thoughts press on, and feelings overflow, 20
And quick words round him fall like flakes of snow.[772]
Thanks to the Powers that yet maintain their sway,
And have renewed the tributary Lay.
Truths of the heart flock in with eager pace,
And FANCY greets them with a fond embrace; 25
Swift as the rising sun his beams extends
She shoots the tidings forth to distant friends;
Their gifts she hails (deemed precious, as they prove
For the unconscious Babe so prompt a love!)--[773]
But from this peaceful centre of delight 30
Vague sympathies have urged her to take flight:
Rapt[774] into upper regions, like the bee
That sucks from mountain heath her honey fee;
Or, like the warbling lark intent to shroud
His head in sunbeams or a bowery cloud, 35
She soars--and here and there her pinions rest
On proud towers, like this humble cottage, blest
With a new visitant, an infant guest--
Towers where red streamers flout the breezy sky
In pomp foreseen by her creative eye, 40
When feasts shall crowd the hall, and steeple bells
Glad proclamation make, and heights and dells
Catch the blithe music as it sinks and swells,[775]
And harboured ships, whose pride is on the sea,
Shall hoist their topmost flags in sign of glee, 45
Honouring the hope of noble ancestry.
But who (though neither reckoning ills assigned
By Nature, nor reviewing in the mind
The track that was, and is, and must be, worn
With weary feet by all of woman born)-- 50
Shall _now_ by such a gift with joy be moved,
Nor feel the fulness of that joy reproved?
Not He, whose last faint memory will command
The truth that Britain was his native land;[776]
Whose infant soul was tutored to confide 55
In the cleansed faith for which her martyrs died;
Whose boyish ear the voice of her renown
With rapture thrilled; whose Youth revered the crown
Of Saxon liberty that Alfred wore,[777]
Alfred, dear Babe, thy great Progenitor! 60
--Not He, who from her mellowed practice drew
His social sense of just, and fair, and true;
And saw, thereafter, on the soil of France
Rash Polity begin her maniac dance,[778]
Foundations broken up, the deeps run wild, 65
Nor grieved to see (himself not unbeguiled)--
Woke from the dream, the dreamer to upbraid,
And learn how sanguine expectations fade
When novel trusts by folly are betrayed,--
To see Presumption, turning pale, refrain 70
From further havoc, but repent in vain,--
Good aims lie down, and perish in the road
Where guilt had urged them on with ceaseless goad.
Proofs thickening round her that on public ends
Domestic virtue vitally depends, 75
That civic strife can turn the happiest hearth
Into a grievous sore of self-tormenting earth.[779]
Can such a One, dear Babe! though glad and proud
To welcome thee, repel the fears that crowd
Into his English breast, and spare to quake 80
Less for his own than[780] for thy innocent sake?
Too late--or, should the providence of God
Lead, through dark[781] ways by sin and sorrow trod,
Justice and peace to a secure abode,
Too soon--thou com'st into this breathing world; 85
Ensigns of mimic outrage are unfurled.
Who shall preserve or prop the tottering Realm?
What hand suffice to govern the state-helm?
If, in the aims of men, the surest test
Of good or bad (whate'er be sought for or profest) 90
Lie in the means required, or ways ordained,
For compassing the end, else never gained;
Yet governors and govern'd both are blind
To this plain truth, or fling it to the wind;
If to expedience principle must bow; 95
Past, future, shrinking up beneath the incumbent Now;
If cowardly concession still must feed
The thirst for power in men who ne'er concede;
Nor turn aside, unless to shape a way
For domination at some riper day; 100
If[782] generous Loyalty must stand in awe
Of subtle Treason, in[783] his mask of law,
Or with bravado insolent and hard,
Provoking punishment, to win reward;
If office help the factious to conspire, 105
And they who _should_ extinguish, fan the fire--
Then, will the sceptre be a straw, the crown
Sit loosely, like the thistle's crest of down;
To be blown off at will, by Power that spares it
In cunning patience, from the head that wears it. 110
Lost people, trained to theoretic feud!
Lost above all, ye labouring multitude!
Bewildered whether ye, by slanderous tongues
Deceived, mistake calamities for wrongs;
And over fancied usurpations brood, 115
Oft snapping at revenge in sullen mood;
Or, from long stress of real injuries fly
To desperation for a remedy;
In bursts of outrage spread your judgments wide,
And to your wrath cry out, "Be thou our guide;" 120
Or, bound by oaths, come forth to tread earth's floor
In marshalled thousands, darkening street and moor
With the worst shape mock-patience ever wore;
Or, to the giddy top of self-esteem
By Flatterers carried, mount into a dream 125
Of boundless suffrage, at whose sage behest
Justice shall rule, disorder be supprest,
And every man sit down as Plenty's Guest!
--O for a bridle bitted with remorse
To stop your Loaders in their headstrong course![784] 130
Oh may the Almighty scatter with his grace
These mists, and lead you to a safer place,
By paths no human wisdom can foretrace!
May He pour round you, from worlds far above
Man's feverish passions, his pure light of love, 135
That quietly restores the natural mien
To hope, and makes truth willing to be seen!
_Else_ shall your blood-stained hands in frenzy reap
Fields gaily sown when promises were cheap.--
Why is the Past belied with wicked art, 140
The Future made to play so false a part,
Among a people famed for strength of mind,
Foremost in freedom, noblest of mankind?
We act as if we joyed in the sad tune
Storms make in rising, valued in the moon 145
Nought but her changes. Thus, ungrateful Nation!
If thou persist, and, scorning moderation,
Spread for thyself the snares of tribulation,
Whom, then, shall meekness guard? What saving skill
Lie in forbearance, strength in standing still? 150
--Soon shall the widow (for the speed of Time
Nought equals when the hours are winged with crime)
Widow, or wife, implore on tremulous knee,
From him who judged her lord, a like decree;
The skies will weep o'er old men desolate: 155
Ye little-ones! Earth shudders at your fate,
Outcasts and homeless orphans----
But turn, my Soul, and from the sleeping pair
Learn thou the beauty of omniscient care!
Be strong in faith, bid anxious thoughts lie still; 160
Seek for the good and cherish it--the ill
Oppose, or bear with a submissive will.
FOOTNOTES:
[770] 1835.
To that hope ... C.
[771] 1837.
Upon each home-event ... 1835.
[772] "_The Warning_ was composed on horseback when I was riding from
Moresby in a snow-storm."--(W. W. to his nephew, the late Bishop of
Lincoln.)
[773] 1840.
... Babe an unbelated love!) 1835.
... so prompt to love.) C.
[774] 1837.
... flight.
She rivals the fleet Swallow, making rings
In the smooth lake where'er he dips his wings:
--Rapt ... 1835.
[775] 1837.
... or swells; 1835.
[776] Compare _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_, canto vi. ll. 1-3.--ED.
[777] Compare "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," Part I. XXVI., XXVII.--ED.
[778] At the Revolution, 1792.--ED.
[779] 1840.
Till undiscriminating Ruin swept
The Land, and Wrong perpetual vigils kept;
With proof before her that on public ends
Domestic virtue vitally depends. 1835.
And civic strife, by hourly calling forth
Mutual despite, can turn the happiest hearth
Into a rankling sore of self-tormented earth. C.
[780] 1840.
Not for his own, but ... 1835.
[781] 1840.
... blind ... 1835.
[782] 1837.
... concede;
If ... 1835.
[783] 1837.
... with ... 1835.
[784] See the Fenwick note prefixed to the poem.--ED.
"IF THIS GREAT WORLD OF JOY AND PAIN"
Composed 1833.--Published 1835
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--ED.
If this great world of joy and pain
Revolve in one sure track;
If freedom, set, will rise again,
And virtue, flown, come back;
Woe to the purblind crew who fill 5
The heart with each day's care;
Nor gain, from past or future, skill
To bear, and to forbear!
ON A HIGH PART OF THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND[785]
Easter Sunday, April 7
THE AUTHOR'S SIXTY-THIRD BIRTH-DAY
Composed 1833.--Published 1835
[The lines were composed on the road between Moresby and Whitehaven
while I was on a visit to my son, then rector of the former place.
This succession of Voluntaries, with the exception of the 8th and
9th, originated in the concluding lines of the last paragraph of this
poem. With this coast I have been familiar from my earliest childhood,
and remember being struck for the first time by the town and port of
Whitehaven and the white waves breaking against its quays and piers,
as the whole came into view from the top of the high ground down which
the road (it has since been altered) then descended abruptly. My
sister, when she first heard the voice of the sea from this point, and
beheld the scene before her, burst into tears. Our family then lived at
Cockermouth, and this fact was often mentioned among us as indicating
the sensibility for which she was so remarkable.--I. F.]
One of the "Evening Voluntaries."--ED.
The Sun, that seemed so mildly to retire,
Flung back from distant climes a streaming fire,
Whose blaze is now subdued to tender gleams,
Prelude of night's approach with soothing dreams.
Look round;--of all the clouds not one is moving; 5
'Tis the still hour of thinking, feeling, loving.
Silent, and stedfast as the vaulted sky,
The boundless plain of waters seems to lie:--
Comes that low sound from breezes rustling o'er
The grass-crowned headland that conceals the shore?
No; 'tis the earth-voice of the mighty sea, 11
Whispering how meek and gentle he _can_ be![786]
Thou Power supreme! who, arming to rebuke
Offenders, dost put off the gracious look,
And clothe thyself with terrors like the flood 15
Of ocean roused into his fiercest mood,
Whatever discipline thy Will ordain
For the brief course that must for me remain;
Teach me with quick-eared spirit to rejoice
In admonitions of thy softest voice! 20
Whate'er the path these mortal feet may trace,
Breathe through my soul the blessing of thy grace,
Glad, through a perfect love, a faith sincere
Drawn from the wisdom that begins with fear,
Glad to expand; and, for a season, free 25
From finite cares, to rest absorbed in Thee!
FOOTNOTES:
[785] 1837.
In 1835 the title was "The Sun, that seemed so mildly to retire."
[786] Compare the _Elegiac Stanzas, suggested by a Picture of Peele
Castle, in a Storm_ (1805), vol. iii. p. 54; also the sonnet (written
in 1807), "_Two Voices are there; one is of the sea_," vol. iv.
p. 61, and the second sonnet on the _Cave of Staffa_, in the poems
descriptive of the tour in Scotland in 1833.--ED.
(BY THE SEA-SIDE)
Composed 1833.--Published 1835
One of the "Evening Voluntaries."--ED.
The sun is couched, the sea-fowl gone to rest;
And the wild storm hath somewhere found a nest;
Air slumbers--wave with wave no longer strives,
Only a heaving of the deep survives,[787]
A tell-tale motion! soon will it be laid, 5
And by the tide alone the water swayed.
Stealthy withdrawings, interminglings mild
Of light with shade in beauty reconciled--
Such is the prospect far as sight can range,
The soothing recompense, the welcome change. 10
Where now the ships that drove before the blast,
Threatened by angry breakers as they passed;
And by a train of flying clouds bemocked;
Or, in the hollow surge, at anchor rocked
As on a bed of death? Some lodge in peace, 15
Saved by His care who bade the tempest cease;
And some, too heedless of past danger, court
Fresh gales to waft them to the far-off port;
But near, or hanging sea and sky between,
Not one of all those wingèd powers is seen, 20
Seen in her course, nor 'mid this quiet heard;
Yet oh! how gladly would the air be stirred
By some acknowledgment of thanks and praise,
Soft in its temper as those vesper lays
Sung to the Virgin while accordant oars 25
Urge the slow bark along Calabrian shores;
A sea-born service through the mountains felt
Till into one loved vision all things melt:
Or like those hymns that soothe with graver sound
The gulfy coast of Norway iron-bound; 30
And, from the wide and open Baltic, rise
With punctual care, Lutherian harmonies.
Hush, not a voice is here! but why repine,
Now when the star of eve comes forth to shine
On British waters with that look benign?[788] 35
Ye mariners, that plough your onward way,
Or in the haven rest, or sheltering bay,
May silent thanks at least to God be given
With a full heart; "our thoughts are _heard_ in heaven!"[789]
FOOTNOTES:
[787] Compare the previous poem.--ED.
[788] Compare Robert Browning's _Home-thoughts from the Sea_--
While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.--ED.
[789] See Young's _Night Thoughts_, book ii. l. 95.--ED.
COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SHORE
Composed 1834.--Published 1845
[These lines were suggested during my residence under my son's roof at
Moresby, on the coast near Whitehaven, at the time when I was composing
those verses among the "Evening Voluntaries" that have reference to
the sea. It was in that neighbourhood I first became acquainted with
the ocean and its appearances and movements. My infancy and early
childhood were passed at Cockermouth, about eight miles from the coast,
and I well remember that mysterious awe with which I used to listen
to anything said about storms and shipwrecks. Sea-shells of many
descriptions were common in the town; and I was not a little surprised
when I heard that Mr. Landor[790] had denounced me as a plagiarist from
himself for having described a boy applying a sea-shell to his ear and
listening to it for intimations of what was going on in its native
element. This I had done myself scores of times, and it was a belief
among us that we could know from the sound whether the tide was ebbing
or flowing.--I.F.]
One of the "Evening Voluntaries."--ED.
What mischief cleaves to unsubdued regret,
How fancy sickens by vague hopes beset;
How baffled projects on the spirit prey,
And fruitless wishes eat the heart away,
The Sailor knows; he best, whose lot is cast 5
On the relentless sea that holds him fast
On chance dependent, and the fickle star
Of power, through long and melancholy war.
O sad it is, in sight of foreign shores,
Daily to think on old familiar doors, 10
Hearths loved in childhood, and ancestral floors;
Or, tossed about along a waste of foam,
To ruminate on that delightful home,
Which with the dear Betrothèd _was_ to come;
Or came and was and is, yet meets the eye 15
Never but in the world of memory;
Or in a dream recalled, whose smoothest range
Is crossed by knowledge, or by dread, of change,
And if not so, whose perfect joy makes sleep
A thing too bright for breathing man to keep. 20
Hail to the virtues which that perilous life
Extracts from Nature's elemental strife;
And welcome glory won in battles fought
As bravely as the foe was keenly sought.
But to each gallant Captain and his crew 25
A less imperious sympathy is due,
Such as my verse now yields, while moonbeams play
On the mute sea in this unruffled bay;
Such as will promptly flow from every breast,
Where good men, disappointed in the quest 30
Of wealth and power and honours, long for rest;
Or, having known the splendours of success,
Sigh for the obscurities of happiness.
FOOTNOTES:
[790] The passage in Landor's _Gebir_, book i., is quoted in a note to
the fourth book of _The Excursion_ (see vol. v. p. 188).--ED.
POEMS,[791]
COMPOSED OR SUGGESTED DURING A TOUR, IN THE SUMMER OF 1833
Composed 1833.--Published 1835
Having been prevented by the lateness of the season, in 1831, from
visiting Staffa and Iona, the author made these the principal objects
of a short tour in the summer of 1833, of which the following series
of poems is a Memorial. The course pursued was down the Cumberland
river Derwent, and to Whitehaven; thence (by the Isle of Man, where a
few days were passed) up the Frith of Clyde to Greenock, then to Oban,
Staffa, Iona; and back towards England by Loch Awe, Inverary, Loch
Goilhead, Greenock, and through parts of Renfrewshire, Ayrshire, and
Dumfries-shire to Carlisle, and thence up the river Eden, and homewards
by Ullswater.--W. W.
[My companions were H. C. Robinson and my son John.--I. F.]
FOOTNOTES:
[791] 1845.
The Title in the 1835 edition was Sonnets composed or suggested during
a tour in Scotland, in the Summer of 1833.
I
ADIEU, RYDALIAN LAURELS! THAT HAVE GROWN
Adieu, Rydalian Laurels! that have grown
And spread as if ye knew that days might come
When ye would shelter in a happy home,
On this fair Mount, a Poet of your own,
One who ne'er ventured for a Delphic crown 5
To sue the God; but, haunting your green shade[792]
All seasons through, is humbly pleased to braid[793]
Ground-flowers, beneath your guardianship, self-sown.[794]
Farewell! no Minstrels now with harp new-strung
For summer wandering quit their household bowers;
Yet not for this wants Poesy a tongue 11
To cheer the Itinerant on whom she pours
Her spirit, while he crosses lonely moors,
Or musing sits forsaken halls among.
FOOTNOTES:
[792] 1835.
One who to win your emblematic crown
Aspires not, but frequenting your green shade
MS.
Who dares not sue the God for your bright crown
Of deathless leaves, but haunting your green shade
MS.
[793] 1835.
... delights fresh wreaths to braid.
MS.
[794] The yellow flowering poppy and the wild geranium. Compare the
poem _Poor Robin_, March 1840.--ED.
II
"WHY SHOULD THE ENTHUSIAST, JOURNEYING THROUGH THIS ISLE"
Why should the Enthusiast, journeying through this Isle,
Repine as if his hour were come too late?
Not unprotected in her mouldering state,
Antiquity salutes him with a smile,
'Mid fruitful fields that ring with jocund toil, 5
And pleasure-grounds where Taste, refined Co-mate
Of Truth and Beauty, strives to imitate,
Far as she may, primeval Nature's style.
Fair Land! by Time's parental love made free,
By Social Order's watchful arms embraced; 10
With unexampled union meet in thee,
For eye and mind, the present and the past;
With golden prospect for futurity,
If that be reverenced which ought to last.[795]
FOOTNOTES:
[795] 1845.
If what is rightly reverenced may last. 1835.
III
"THEY CALLED THEE MERRY ENGLAND, IN OLD TIME"
They called Thee MERRY ENGLAND, in old time;
A happy people won for thee that name
With envy heard in many a distant clime;
And, spite of change, for me thou keep'st the same
Endearing title, a responsive chime 5
To the heart's fond belief; though some there are
Whose sterner judgments deem that world a snare
For inattentive Fancy, like the lime
Which foolish birds are caught with. Can, I ask,
This face of rural beauty be a mask 10
For discontent, and poverty, and crime;
These spreading towns a cloak for lawless will?
Forbid it, Heaven!-and[796] MERRY ENGLAND still
Shall[797] be thy rightful name, in prose and rhyme!
FOOTNOTES:
[796] 1837.
... that ... 1835.
[797] 1837.
May.... 1835.
IV
TO THE RIVER GRETA, NEAR KESWICK
Greta, what fearful listening! when huge stones
Rumble along thy bed, block after block:
Or, whirling with reiterated shock,
Combat, while darkness aggravates the groans:
But if thou (like Cocytus from the moans[798] 5
Heard on his rueful margin[799]) thence wert named
The Mourner, thy true nature was defamed,
And the habitual murmur that atones
For thy worst rage, forgotten. Oft as Spring
Decks, on thy sinuous banks, her thousand thrones, 10
Seats of glad instinct and love's carolling,
The concert, for the happy, then may vie
With liveliest peals of birth-day harmony:
To a grieved heart, the notes are benisons.
Compare _The Prelude_, book i. l. 269 (vol. iii. p. 140):--
"Was it for this
That one, the fairest of all rivers, loved
To blend his murmurs with my nurse's song,
And, from his alder shades and rocky falls,
And from his fords and shallows, sent a voice
That flowed along my dreams?
* * * * *
Make ceaseless music that composed my thoughts
To more than infant softness."
ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[798] Many years ago, when I was at Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire, the
hostess of the inn, proud of her skill in etymology, said, that "the
name of the river was taken from the _bridge_, the form of which, as
every one must notice, exactly resembled a great A." Dr. Whitaker has
derived it from the word of common occurrence in the North of England,
"_to greet_;" signifying to lament aloud, mostly with weeping: a
conjecture rendered more probable from the stony and rocky channel
of both the Cumberland and Yorkshire rivers. The Cumberland Greta,
though it does not, among the country people, take up _that_ name till
within three miles of its disappearance in the River Derwent, may be
considered as having its source in the mountain cove of Wythburn, and
flowing through Thirlmere, the beautiful features of which lake are
known only to those who, travelling between Grasmere and Keswick, have
quitted the main road in the vale of Wythburn, and, crossing over to
the opposite side of the lake, have proceeded with it on the right hand.
The channel of the Greta, immediately above Keswick, has, for the
purposes of building, been in a great measure cleared of the immense
stones which, by their concussion in high floods, produced the loud and
awful noises described in the sonnet.
"The scenery upon this river," says Mr. Southey in his Colloquies,
"where it passes under the woody side of Latrigg, is of the finest and
most rememberable kind:--
---- 'ambiguo lapsu refluitque fluitque,
Occurrensque sibi venturas aspicit undas.'"
W. W. 1835.
[799] The Cocytus was a tributary of the Acheron, in Epirus, but was
supposed to have some connection with the underworld, doubtless, as
Wordsworth puts it,
from the moans
Heard on his rueful margin.
Compare Homer, _Odyssey_ x. 513, and Virgil, _Aenid_ vi. 295.--ED.
V
TO THE RIVER DERWENT[800]
Among the mountains were we nursed, loved Stream!
Thou near the eagle's nest[801]--within brief sail,
I, of his bold wing floating on the gale,
Where thy deep voice could lull me! Faint the beam
Of human life when first allowed to gleam 5
On mortal notice.--Glory of the vale,
Such thy meek outset, with a crown, though frail,
Kept in perpetual verdure by the steam
Of thy soft breath!--Less vivid wreath entwined
Nemæan victor's brow;[802] less bright was worn, 10
Meed of some Roman chief--in triumph borne
With captives chained; and shedding from his car
The sunset splendours of a finished war
Upon the proud enslavers of mankind!
FOOTNOTES:
[800] This sonnet has already appeared in several editions of the
author's poems; but he is tempted to reprint it in this place, as a
natural introduction to the two that follow it.--W. W. 1835.
It was first published in 1819.--ED.
[801] The river Derwent rises in Langstrath valley, Borrowdale, in
which is Eagle Crag, so named from its having been the haunt of a bird
that is now extinct in Cumberland.--ED.
[802] The Nemæan games were celebrated every third or fifth year at
Nemæa in Argolis. The victor was crowned with a wreath of olive.--ED.
VI
IN SIGHT OF THE TOWN OF COCKERMOUTH
(Where the Author was born, and his Father's remains are laid.)
A point of life between my Parents' dust,
And yours, my buried Little-ones![803] am I;
And to those graves looking habitually
In kindred quiet I repose my trust.
Death to the innocent is more than just, 5
And, to the sinner, mercifully bent;
So may I hope, if truly I repent
And meekly bear the ills which bear I must:
And You, my Offspring! that do still remain,
Yet may outstrip me in the appointed race, 10
If e'er, through fault of mine, in mutual pain
We breathed together for a moment's space,
The wrong, by love provoked, let love arraign,
And only love keep in your hearts a place.
FOOTNOTES:
[803] His children, Catherine and Thomas, who died in infancy at the
Parsonage, Grasmere, and were buried in Grasmere Churchyard.--ED.
VII
ADDRESS FROM THE SPIRIT OF COCKERMOUTH CASTLE
"Thou look'st upon me, and dost fondly think,
Poet! that, stricken as both are by years,
We, differing once so much, are now Compeers,
Prepared, when each has stood his time, to sink
Into the dust. Erewhile a sterner link 5
United us; when thou, in boyish play,
Entering my dungeon, didst become a prey
To soul-appalling darkness. Not a blink
Of light was there;--and thus did I, thy Tutor,
Make thy young thoughts acquainted with the grave;
While thou wert chasing the wing'd butterfly 11
Through my green courts;[804] or climbing, a bold suitor
Up to the flowers whose golden progeny
Still round my shattered brow in beauty wave."[805]
FOOTNOTES:
[804] Compare _To a Butterfly_ (1802), vol. ii. p. 284--
Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
ED.
[805] Compare _The Prelude_, book i. ll. 283-85--
The shadow of those towers
That yet survive, a shattered monument
Of feudal sway.
Compare also the sonnet _At Furness Abbey_, written in 1844.--ED.
VIII
NUN'S WELL, BRIGHAM
[So named from the religious House that stood close by. I have rather
an odd anecdote to relate of the Nun's Well. One day the landlady of a
public-house, a field's length from the well, on the roadside, said to
me--"You have been to see the Nun's Well, Sir?" "The Nun's Well! what
is that?" said the Postman, who in his royal livery stopt his mail-car
at the door. The landlady and I explained to him what the name meant,
and what sort of people the nuns were. A countryman who was standing
by, rather tipsy, stammered out--"Aye, those nuns were good people;
they are gone; but we shall soon have them back again." The Reform
mania was just then at its height.--I.F.]
The cattle crowding round this beverage clear
To slake their thirst, with reckless hoofs have trod
The encircling turf into a barren clod;
Through which the waters creep, then disappear,
Born to be lost in Derwent flowing near; 5
Yet, o'er the brink, and round the lime-stone cell
Of the pure spring (they call it the "Nun's Well,"
Name that first struck by chance my startled ear)
A tender Spirit broods--the pensive Shade
Of ritual honours to this Fountain paid 10
By hooded Votaresses[806] with saintly cheer;[807]
Albeit oft the Virgin-mother mild
Looked down with pity upon eyes beguiled
Into the shedding of "too soft a tear."[808]
FOOTNOTES:
[806] 1837.
... Votaries ... 1835.
[807] Attached to the church of Brigham was formerly a chantry, which
held a moiety of the manor; and in the decayed parsonage some vestiges
of monastic architecture are still to be seen.--W. W. 1835.
[808] See Pope's _Eloïsa to Abelard_, l. 224.--ED.
IX
TO A FRIEND[809]
(ON THE BANKS OF THE DERWENT)
[My son John, who was then building a parsonage on his small living at
Brigham.--I.F.]
Pastor and Patriot!--at whose bidding rise
These modest walls, amid a flock that need,
For one who comes to watch them and to feed,
A fixed Abode--keep down presageful sighs.[810]
Threats, which the unthinking only can despise, 5
Perplex the Church; but be thou firm,--be true
To thy first hope, and this good work pursue,
Poor as thou art. A welcome sacrifice
Dost Thou prepare, whose sign will be the smoke[811]
Of thy new hearth; and sooner shall its wreaths, 10
Mounting while earth her morning incense breathes,
From wandering fiends of air receive a yoke,
And straightway cease to aspire, than God disdain
This humble tribute as ill-timed or vain.
FOOTNOTES:
[809] John Wordsworth, the poet's son, the subject of this sonnet, was
incumbent of Moresby, near Whitehaven, before he went to Brigham. See
the Fenwick note to the lines, _Composed by the Sea-shore_, p. 340. In
1833 Wordsworth wrote to Lady Beaumont:--
"Were you ever told that my son is building a parsonage-house upon a
small living, to which he was lately presented by the Earl of Lonsdale.
The situation is beautiful, commanding the windings of the Derwent
both above and below the site of the house; the mountain Skiddaw
terminating the view one way, at a distance of six miles, and the ruins
of Cockermouth Castle appearing nearly in the centre of the same view.
In consequence of some discouraging thoughts expressed by my son when
he had entered upon this undertaking, I addressed to him the following
Sonnet, which you may perhaps read with some interest at the present
crisis."--ED.
[810] 1835.
... foreboding sighs.
MS. Letter to Lady Beaumont.
[811] 1835.
To Him who dwells in Heaven will be the smoke
MS. Letter to Lady Beaumont.
X
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS
(LANDING AT THE MOUTH OF THE DERWENT,
WORKINGTON)[812]
[I will mention for the sake of the friend who is writing down these
notes, that it was among the fine Scotch firs near Ambleside, and
particularly those near Green Bank, that I have over and over again
paused at the sight of this image. Long may they stand to afford a like
gratification to others!--This wish is not uncalled for, several of
their brethren having already disappeared.--I. F.]
Dear to the Loves, and to the Graces vowed,
The Queen drew back the wimple that she wore;
And to the throng, that on the Cumbrian shore
Her landing hailed, how touchingly she bowed![813]
And like a Star (that, from a heavy cloud[814] 5
Of pine-tree foliage poised in air, forth darts,[815]
When a soft summer gale at evening parts
The gloom that did its loveliness enshroud)
She smiled;[816] but Time, the old Saturnian seer,
Sighed on the wing as her foot pressed the strand, 10
With step prelusive to a long array
Of woes and degradations hand in hand--
Weeping captivity, and shuddering fear
Stilled by the ensanguined block of Fotheringay![817]
FOOTNOTES:
[812] "The fears and impatience of Mary were so great," says Robertson,
"that she got into a fisher-boat, and with about twenty attendants
landed at Workington, in Cumberland; and thence she was conducted with
many marks of respect to Carlisle." The apartment in which the Queen
had slept at Workington Hall (where she was received by Sir Henry
Curwen as became her rank and misfortunes) was long preserved, out of
respect to her memory, as she had left it; and one cannot but regret
that some necessary alterations in the mansion could not be effected
without its destruction.--W. W. 1835.
[813] 1837.
And to the throng how touchingly she bowed
That hailed her landing on the Cumbrian shore; 1835.
[814] 1840.
Bright as a star (that, from a sombre cloud 1835.
[815] 1835.
High poised in air of pine-tree foliage, darts, MS.
[816] Compare _The Triad_, ll. 189, 190 (p. 188)--
So gleams the crescent moon, that loves
To be descried through shady groves.--ED.
[817] 1835.
Thenceforth he saw a long and long array
Of miserable seasons hand in hand--
Weeping, captivity, and pallid fear,
And last, the ensanguined block of Fotheringay.
MS.
XI
STANZAS SUGGESTED IN A STEAM-BOAT OFF SAINT BEES' HEADS, ON THE COAST
OF CUMBERLAND[818]
If Life were slumber on a bed of down,
Toil unimposed, vicissitude unknown,
Sad were our lot: no hunter of the hare
Exults like him whose javelin from the lair
Has roused the lion; no one plucks the rose, 5
Whose proffered beauty in safe shelter blows
'Mid a trim garden's summer luxuries,
With joy like his who climbs, on hands and knees,
For some rare plant, yon Headland of St. Bees.
This independence upon oar and sail, 10
This new indifference to breeze or gale,
This straight-lined progress, furrowing a flat lea,
And regular as if locked in certainty--
Depress the hours. Up, Spirit of the storm!
That Courage may find something to perform; 15
That Fortitude, whose blood disdains to freeze
At Danger's bidding, may confront the seas,
Firm as the towering Headlands of St. Bees.
Dread cliff of Baruth! _that_ wild wish may sleep,
Bold as if men and creatures of the Deep 20
Breathed the same element; too many wrecks
Have struck thy sides, too many ghastly decks
Hast thou looked down upon, that such a thought
Should here be welcome, and in verse enwrought:
With thy stern aspect better far agrees 25
Utterance of thanks that we have past with ease,
As millions thus shall do, the Headlands of St. Bees.
Yet, while each useful Art augments her store,
What boots the gain if Nature should lose more?
And Wisdom, as she holds[819] a Christian place 30
In man's intelligence sublimed by grace?
When Bega sought of yore the Cumbrian coast,[820]
Tempestuous winds her holy errand cross'd:
She[821] knelt in prayer--the waves their wrath appease;
And, from her vow well weighed in Heaven's decrees,
Rose, where she touched the strand, the Chantry of St. Bees. 36
"Cruel of heart were they, bloody of hand,"
Who in these Wilds then struggled for command;[822]
The strong were merciless, without hope the weak;
Till this bright Stranger came, fair as day-break, 40
And as a cresset true that darts its length
Of beamy lustre from a tower of strength;
Guiding the mariner through troubled seas,
And cheering oft his peaceful reveries,
Like the fixed Light that crowns yon Headland of St. Bees. 45
To aid the Votaress, miracles believed
Wrought in men's minds, like miracles achieved;
So piety took root; and Song might tell
What humanising virtues near her cell[823]
Sprang up, and spread their fragrance wide around;
How savage bosoms melted at the sound 51
Of gospel-truth enchained in harmonies
Wafted o'er waves, or creeping through close trees,
From her religious Mansion of St. Bees.
When her sweet Voice, that instrument of love, 55
Was glorified, and took its place, above
The silent stars, among the angelic quire,
Her chantry blazed with sacrilegious fire,
And perished utterly; but her good deeds
Had sown the spot, that witnessed them, with seeds 60
Which lay in earth expectant, till a breeze
With quickening impulse answered their mute pleas,
And lo! a _statelier_ pile, the Abbey of St. Bees.[824]
There are[825] the naked clothed, the hungry fed;
And Charity extendeth[826] to the dead, 65
Her intercessions made for the soul's rest
Of tardy penitents; or for the best
Among the good (when love might else have slept,
Sickened, or died) in pious memory kept.
Thanks to the austere and simple Devotees, 70
Who, to that service bound by venial fees,
Keep watch before the altars of St. Bees.
Are[827] not, in sooth, their Requiems sacred ties[828]
Woven out of passion's sharpest agonies,
Subdued, composed, and formalized by art, 75
To fix a wiser sorrow in the heart?
The prayer for them whose hour is past away
Says[829] to the Living, profit while ye may!
A little part, and that the worst, he sees
Who thinks that priestly cunning holds the keys 80
That best unlock the secrets of St. Bees.
Conscience, the timid being's inmost light,
Hope of the dawn and solace of the night,
Cheers these Recluses with a steady ray
In many an hour when judgment goes astray. 85
Ah! scorn not hastily their rule who try
Earth to despise, and flesh to mortify;
Consume with zeal, in wingèd ecstasies
Of prayer and praise forget their rosaries,
Nor hear the loudest surges of St. Bees. 90
Yet none so prompt to succour and protect
The forlorn traveller, or sailor wrecked
On the bare coast; nor do they grudge the boon
Which staff and cockle hat and sandal shoon
Claim for the pilgrim: and, though chidings sharp 95
May sometimes greet the strolling minstrel's harp,
It is not then when, swept with sportive ease,
It charms a feast-day throng of all degrees,
Brightening the archway of revered St. Bees.
How did the cliffs and echoing hills rejoice 100
What time the Benedictine Brethren's voice,
Imploring, or commanding with meet pride,
Summoned the Chiefs to lay their feuds aside,
And under one blest ensign serve the Lord
In Palestine. Advance, indignant Sword! 105
Flaming till thou from Panym hands release
That Tomb, dread centre of all sanctities
Nursed in the quiet Abbey of St. Bees.
But look we now to them whose minds from far[830]
Follow the fortunes which they may not share. 110
While in Judea Fancy loves to roam,
She helps to make a Holy-land at home:
The Star of Bethlehem from its sphere invites
To sound the crystal depth of maiden rights;[831]
And wedded Life, through scriptural mysteries, 115
Heavenward ascends with all her charities,
Taught by the hooded Celibates of St. Bees.
Nor be it e'er forgotten how by skill
Of cloistered Architects, free their souls to fill
With love of God, throughout the Land were raised 120
Churches, on whose symbolic beauty gazed
Peasant and mail-clad Chief with pious awe;
As at this day men seeing what they saw,
Or the bare wreck of faith's solemnities,
Aspire to more than earthly destinies; 125
Witness yon Pile that greets us from St. Bees.[832]
Yet more; around those Churches, gathered Towns[833]
Safe from the feudal Castle's haughty frowns;
Peaceful abodes, where Justice might uphold
Her scales with even hand, and culture mould 130
The heart to pity, train the mind in care
For rules of life, sound as the Time could bear.
Nor dost thou fail, thro' abject love of ease,
Or hindrance raised by sordid purposes,
To bear thy part in this good work, St. Bees.[834] 135
Who with the ploughshare clove the barren moors,
And to green meadows changed the swampy shores?
Thinned the rank woods; and for the cheerful grange
Made room where wolf and boar were used to range?
Who taught, and showed by deeds, that gentler chains 140
Should bind the vassal to his lord's domains?
The thoughtful Monks, intent their God to please,
For Christ's dear sake, by human sympathies
Poured from the bosom of thy Church, St. Bees!
But all availed not; by a mandate given 145
Through lawless will the Brotherhood was driven
Forth from their cells; their ancient House laid low
In Reformation's sweeping overthrow.
But now once more the local Heart revives,
The inextinguishable Spirit strives. 150
Oh may that Power who hushed the stormy seas,
And cleared a way for the first Votaries,
Prosper the new-born College of St. Bees![835]
Alas! the Genius of our age, from Schools
Less humble, draws her lessons, aims, and rules. 153
To Prowess guided by her insight keen
Matter and Spirit are as one Machine;
Boastful Idolatress of formal skill
She in her own would merge the eternal will:[836]
Better,[837] if Reason's triumphs match with these, 160
Her flight before the bold credulities
That furthered the first teaching of St. Bees.[838]
FOOTNOTES:
[818] St. Bees' Heads, anciently called the Cliff of Baruth, are a
conspicuous sea-mark for all vessels sailing in the N.E. parts of
the Irish Sea. In a bay, one side of which is formed by the southern
headland, stands the village of St. Bees; a place distinguished, from
very early times, for its religious and scholastic foundations.
"St. Bees," say Nicholson and Burns, "had its name from Bega, an holy
woman from Ireland, who is said to have founded here, about the year of
our Lord 650, a small monastery, where afterwards a church was built in
memory of her.
"The aforesaid religious house, being destroyed by the Danes, was
restored by William de Meschiens, son of Ranulph, and brother of
Ranulph de Meschiens, first Earl of Cumberland after the Conquest; and
made a cell of a prior and six Benedictine monks to the Abbey of St.
Mary at York."
Several traditions of miracles, connected with the foundation of
the first of these religious houses, survive among the people of
the neighbourhood; one of which is alluded to in these Stanzas;
and another, of a somewhat bolder and more peculiar character, has
furnished the subject of a spirited poem by the Rev. R. Parkinson,
M.A., late Divinity Lecturer of St. Bees' College, and now Fellow of
the Collegiate Church of Manchester.
After the dissolution of the monasteries, Archbishop Grindal founded
a free school at St. Bees, from which the counties of Cumberland and
Westmoreland have derived great benefit; and recently, under the
patronage of the Earl of Lonsdale, a college has been established
there for the education of ministers for the English Church. The old
Conventual Church has been repaired under the superintendence of the
Rev. Dr. Ainger, the Head of the College; and is well worthy of being
visited by any strangers who might be led to the neighbourhood of this
celebrated spot.
The form of stanza in this Poem, and something in the style of
versification, are adopted from the _St. Monica_, a poem of much
beauty upon a monastic subject, by Charlotte Smith: a lady to whom
English verse is under greater obligations than are likely to be
either acknowledged or remembered. She wrote little, and that little
unambitiously, but with true feeling for rural nature,[839] at a time
when nature was not much regarded by English Poets; for in point of
time her earlier writings preceded, I believe, those of Cowper and
Burns.[840]--W. W. 1835.
[819] 1845.
And Wisdom, that once held ... 1835.
[820] See the note, p. 351.--ED.
[821] 1837.
... cross'd;
As high and higher heaved the billows, faith
Grew with them, mightier than the powers of death.
She ... 1835.
[822] The Danes, and the Cymric aborigines.--ED.
[823] 1837.
... round her Cell 1835.
[824] See the extract from Nicholson and Burn's _History of
Cumberland_, in Wordsworth's note, p. 351.--ED.
[825] 1837.
There were ... 1835.
[826] 1837.
... extended ... 1835.
[827] 1837.
Were ... 1835.
[828] I am aware that I am here treading upon tender ground; but to
the intelligent reader I feel that[841] no apology is due. The prayers
of survivors, during passionate grief for the recent loss of relatives
and friends, as the object of those prayers could no longer be the
suffering body of the dying, would naturally be ejaculated for the
souls of the departed; the barriers between the two worlds dissolving
before the power of love and faith. The ministers of religion, from
their habitual attendance upon sick-beds, would be daily witnesses of
these benign results; and hence would be strongly tempted to aim at
giving to them permanence, by embodying them in rites and ceremonies,
recurring at stated periods. All this, as it was in course of nature,
so was it blameless, and even praiseworthy; since some of its effects,
in that rude state of society, could not but be salutary. No reflecting
person, however, can view[842] without sorrow the abuses which rose out
of thus formalizing sublime instincts, and disinterested movements of
passion, and perverting them into means of gratifying the ambition and
rapacity of the priesthood. But, while we deplore and are indignant at
these abuses, it would be a great mistake if we imputed the origin of
the offices to prospective selfishness on the part of the monks and
clergy: _they_ were at first sincere in their sympathy, and in their
degree dupes rather of their own creed, than artful and designing
men. Charity is, upon the whole, the safest guide that we can take
in judging our fellow-men, whether of past ages, or of the present
time.--W. W. 1835.
[829] 1837.
... was past away
Said ... 1835.
[830] 1837.
On, Champions, on!--But mark! the passing Day
Submits her intercourse to milder sway,
With high and low whose busy thoughts from far 1835.
[831] Compare _The Virgin_, in the "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," Part II.
xxv.--ED.
[832] 1845.
As through the land we seeing what they saw,
Or the bare wreck of faith's solemnities,
May lift {the} hearts {to} blissful destinies;
{our} {for}
{Witness the remnant of thy Church, St. Bees.
{Witness your works, good coenobites of St. Bees. C.
(or)
As on this day we seeing what they saw,
Uplift our hearts for heavenly destinies
In field or town, 'mid mountain fastnesses,
Or on wave-beaten shores like thine, St. Bees. C.
[833] See "The English Town" in Green's _Short History of the English_
_People_, ch. iv. sec. 4.--ED.
[834] This stanza and the preceding one were added in 1845.--ED.
[835] This College was founded for the education of clerks in holy
orders who did not mean to proceed to Oxford or Cambridge.--ED.
[836] 1835.
... our age, her rules
From schools that scorning faith in things unseen,
Most confident when most they overween,
Would merge, idolaters of formal skill
In their own system God's eternal will. C.
... aims and rules
Would merge, Idolaters of formal skill
In her own system God's eternal will. C.
[837] 1837.
... will:
Expert to move in paths that Newton trod,
From Newton's Universe would banish God.
Better, ... 1835.
[838] See _The Excursion_, seventh part; and "Ecclesiastical Sonnets,"
second part, near the beginning.--W. W. 1850.
The passages referred to are the following: _The Excursion_, book vii.
l. 1008, etc. (vol. v. p. 324), beginning--
The courteous Knight,
and alluding to Sir Alfred Irthing; and in the "Ecclesiastical
Sonnets," Part II. III., IV., V., _Cistercian Monastery_, and _Monks
and Schoolmen_.--ED.
[839] 1837.
but with true feeling for nature. 1835.
[840] From "at a time" to "Burns" was added in 1837.
[841] 1845.
The Author is aware that he is here ... reader he feels that 1835.
[842] 1837.
praiseworthy; but no reflecting person can view 1835.
XII
IN THE CHANNEL, BETWEEN THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND AND THE ISLE OF MAN
Ranging the heights of Scawfell or Black-Comb,[843]
In his lone course the Shepherd oft will pause,
And strive to fathom the mysterious laws
By which the clouds, arrayed in light or gloom,
On Mona settle, and the shapes assume 5
Of all her peaks and ridges.[844] What he draws
From sense, faith, reason, fancy, of the cause,
He will take with him to the silent tomb.
Or, by his fire, a child upon his knee,
Haply the untaught Philosopher may speak 10
Of the strange sight, nor hide his theory
That satisfies the simple and the meek,
Blest in their pious ignorance, though weak
To cope with Sages undevoutly free.
FOOTNOTES:
[843] 1837.
... Black-coom, 1835.
[844] Compare the _View from the top of Black Comb_ (vol. iv. p. 279);
also the Inscription, _Written with a Slate Pencil on a Stone, on the
Side of the Mountain of Black Comb_ (vol. iv. p. 281).
The atmospheric phenomena referred to in the sonnet are frequently seen
from the Cumberland hills, overspreading the peaks and ridges of the
Isle of Man; and a similar appearance is often visible on the Cumbrian
hills, as seen from Mona.--ED.
XIII
AT SEA OFF THE ISLE OF MAN
Bold words affirmed, in days when faith was strong
And doubts and scruples seldom teazed the brain,
That[845] no adventurer's bark had power to gain
These shores if he approached them bent on wrong;
For, suddenly up-conjured from the Main, 5
Mists rose to hide the Land--that search, though long
And eager, might be still pursued in vain.
O Fancy, what an age was _that_ for song!
That age, when not by _laws_ inanimate,
As men believed, the waters were impelled, 10
The air controlled, the stars their courses held;
But element and orb on _acts_ did wait
Of _Powers_ endued with visible form, instinct
With will, and to their work by passion linked.
FOOTNOTES:
[845] 1837.
... strong,
That ... 1835.
XIV
"DESIRE WE PAST ILLUSIONS TO RECAL"
Desire we past illusions to recal?
To reinstate wild Fancy, would we hide
Truth whose thick veil Science has drawn aside?
No,--let this Age, high as she may, instal
In her esteem the thirst that wrought man's fall, 5
The universe is infinitely wide;
And conquering Reason, if self-glorified,
Can nowhere move uncrossed by some new wall
Or gulf of mystery, which thou alone,
Imaginative Faith! canst overleap, 10
In progress toward the fount of Love,--the throne
Of Power whose ministers the[846] records keep
Of periods fixed, and laws established, less
Flesh to exalt than prove its nothingness.
FOOTNOTES:
[846] 1837.
Of Power, whose ministering Spirits ... 1835.
XV
ON ENTERING DOUGLAS BAY, ISLE OF MAN
"Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori."[847]
The feudal Keep, the bastions of Cohorn,[848]
Even when they rose to check or to repel
Tides of aggressive war, oft served as well
Greedy ambition, armed to treat with scorn
Just limits; but yon Tower, whose smiles adorn 5
This perilous bay, stands clear of all offence;
Blest work it is of love and innocence,
A Tower of refuge built for the else forlorn.[849]
Spare it, ye waves, and lift the mariner,
Struggling for life, into its saving arms! 10
Spare, too, the human helpers! Do they stir
'Mid your fierce shock like men afraid to die?
No; their dread service nerves the heart it warms,
And they are led by noble HILLARY.[850]
FOOTNOTES:
[847] See Horace, _Odes_, book iv. ode viii. l. 28.--ED.
[848] Baron Menno van Cohorn (or Coehoorn) was a Dutch military
engineer of genius (1641-1704). His fame rests on discoveries
connected with the effect of projectiles on fortifications. His
practical successes against the French, under Vauban, were great;
and the fortifications he designed and constructed, of which that
of Bergen-op-Zoom was the chief, give him a place in the history
of military science, greater than that derived from his writings.
He devised a kind of small mortar or howitzer, for use in siege
operations, which is named after him a Cohorn.--ED.
[849] 1845.
A Tower of refuge to the else forlorn. 1835.
A Tower of refuge built for the forlorn. C.
[850] The TOWER OF REFUGE, an ornament to Douglas Bay, was erected
chiefly through the humanity and zeal of Sir William Hillary; and he
also was the founder of the lifeboat establishment, at that place; by
which, under his superintendence, and often by his exertions at the
imminent hazard of his own life, many seamen and passengers have been
saved.--W. W. 1835.
In Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal of a visit to the Isle of Man in 1826,
the following occurs:--"Monday, 3rd July.--Sir William Hillary saved a
boy's life to-day in harbour. He raised a regiment for government, and
chose his own reward, viz., a Baronetcy! and now lives here on £300 per
annum, etc. etc."--ED.
XVI
BY THE SEA-SHORE, ISLE OF MAN