Chapter 3

[Footnote B: Compare the stanza in 'A Poet's Epitaph' (p. 77), beginning

'He is retired as noontide dew.'

Ed.]

[Footnote C: Many years ago Canon Ainger pointed out to me a parallel between Beattie's description of 'The Minstrel' and Wordsworth's account of himself in this poem. It is somewhat curious that Dorothy Wordsworth, writing to Miss Pollard from Forncett in 1793, quotes the line from 'The Minstrel', book I. stanza 22,

"In truth he was a strange and wayward wight,"

and adds

"That verse of Beattie's 'Minstrel' always reminds me of him, and indeed the whole character of Edwin resembles much what William was when I first knew him after leaving Halifax."

Mr. T. Hutchinson called the attention of Professor Dowden to the same resemblance between the two pictures. With lines 35, 36, compare in Shelley's 'Adonais', stanza xxxi.:

'And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey.'

Ed.]

There can now be no doubt that, in the first four of these 'Stanzas', Wordsworth refers to himself; and that, in the last four, he refers to Coleridge. For a time it was uncertain whether in the earlier stanzas he had Coleridge, or himself, in view; and whether, in the later ones, some one else was, or was not, described. De Quincey, quoting (as he often did) in random fashion, mixes up extracts from each set of the stanzas, and applies them both to Coleridge; and Dorothy Wordsworth, in her Journal, gives apparent (though only apparent) sanction to a reverse order of allusion, by writing of "the stanzas about C. and himself" (her brother). The following are her references to the poem in that Journal:

"9th May (1802).-After tea he (W.) wrote two stanzas in the manner of Thomson's 'Castle of Indolence', and was tired out.

"10th May.--William still at work, though it is past ten o'clock ... William did not sleep till three o'clock."

"11th May.--William finished the stanzas about C. and himself. He did not go out to-day. ... He completely finished his poem. He went to bed at twelve o'clock."

From these extracts two things are evident,

(1) who the persons are described in the stanzas, and

(2) the immense labour bestowed upon the poem.

In the 'Memoirs of Wordsworth', by the late Bishop of Lincoln, there is a passage (vol. ii. chap. li. p. 309) amongst the "Personal Reminiscences, 1836," in which the Hon. Mr. Justice Coleridge virtually decides the question of the identity of the two persons referred to, in his record of a conversation with the poet. It is as follows:

"October 10th.--I have passed a great many hours to-day with Wordsworth in his home. I stumbled on him with proof sheets before him. He read me nearly all the sweet stanzas written in his copy of the 'Castle of Indolence', describing himself and my uncle; and he and Mrs. W. both assured me the description of the latter at that time was perfectly accurate; and he was almost as a great boy in feelings, and had all the tricks and fancies there described. Mrs. W. seemed to look back on him, and those times, with the fondest affection."

I think "the neighbouring height" referred to is the height of White Moss Common, behind the Fir-Grove, where Wordsworth was often heard murmuring out his verses," booing" as the country folks said: and the

'driving full in view At midday when the sun was shining bright,'

aptly describes his habits as recorded in his sister's Journal, and elsewhere. The "withered flower," the "creature pale and wan," are significant of those terrible reactions of spirit, which followed his joyous hours of insight and inspiration. Stanzas IV. to VII. of 'Resolution and Independence' (p. 314), in which Wordsworth undoubtedly described himself, may be compared with stanza III. of this poem. The lines

'Down would he sit; and without strength or power Look at the common grass from hour to hour,'

are aptly illustrated by such passages in his sister's Journal, as the following, of 29th April 1802:

"We went to John's Grove, sate a while at first; afterwards William lay, and I lay in the trench, under the fence--he with his eyes closed, and listening to the waterfalls and the birds. There was no one waterfall above another--it was a kind of water in the air--the voice of the air. We were unseen by one another."

Again, April 23rd,

"Coleridge and I pushed on before. We left William sitting on the stones, feasting with silence."

And this recalls the first verse of 'Expostulation and Reply', written at Alfoxden in 1798;

'Why, William, on that old grey stone, Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone, And dream your time away?'

The retreat where "apple-trees in blossom made a bower," and where he so often "slept himself away," was evidently the same as that described in the poem 'The Green Linnet':

'Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow white blossoms on my head.'

On the other hand, the "low-hung lip" and "profound" forehead of the other, the "noticeable Man with large grey eyes," mark him out as S. T. C.; "the rapt One, of the god-like forehead," described in the 'Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg'. The description "Noisy he was, and gamesome as a boy," is verified by what the poet and his wife said to Mr. Justice Coleridge in 1836. In addition, Mr. Hutchinson of Kimbolton tells me he "often heard his father say that Coleridge was uproarious in his mirth."

Matthew Arnold wrote me an interesting letter some years ago about these stanzas, from which I make the following extract:

"When one looks uneasily at a poem it is easy to fidget oneself further, and neither the Wordsworth nor the Coleridge of our common notions seem to be exactly hit off in the 'Stanzas'; still, I believe that the first described is Wordsworth and that the second described is Coleridge. I have myself heard Wordsworth speak of his prolonged exhausting wanderings among the hills. Then Miss Fenwick's notes show that Coleridge is certainly one of the two personages of the poem, and there are points in the description of the second man which suit him very well. The 'profound forehead' is a touch akin to the 'god-like forehead' in the mention of Coleridge in a later poem.

"I have a sort of recollection of having heard something about the 'inventions rare,' and Coleridge is certain to have dabbled, at one time or other, in natural philosophy."

In 1796 Coleridge wrote to his friend Cottle from Nether Stowey:

" ... I should not think of devoting less than 20 years to an Epic Poem: ten to collect materials and warm my mind with universal science. I would be a tolerable Mathematician, I would thoroughly know Mechanics, Hydrostatics, Optics, and Astronomy, Botany, Metallurgy, Fossilism, Chemistry, Geology, Anatomy, Medicine--then the 'mind of man'--then the 'minds of men'--in all Travels, Voyages, and Histories. So I would spend ten years--the next five to the composition of the poem--and the last five to the correction of it. So would I write, haply not unhearing of the divine and rightly whispering Voice," etc.

Mr. T. Hutchinson (Dublin) writes in 'The Athenaeum', Dec. 15, 1894:

"I take it for granted these lines were written, not only on the fly-leaf of Wordsworth's copy of the 'Castle of Indolence', but also by way of Supplement to that poem; i. e. as an 'addendum' to the descriptive list of the denizens of the Castle given in stanzas LVII-LXIX of Canto I.; that, in short, they are meant to be read as though they were an after-thought of James Thomson's. Their author, therefore, has rightly imparted to them the curiously blended flavour of 'romantic melancholy and slippered mirth,' of dreamlike vagueness and smiling hyperbole, which forms the distinctive mark of Thomson's poem; and thus the Poet and the Philosopher-Friend of Wordsworth's stanzas, like Thomson's companion sketches of the splenetic Solitary, the 'bard more fat than bard beseems,' and the 'little, round, fat, oily Man of God,' are neither more nor less than gentle caricatures."

It has been suggested by Coleridge's grandson that Wordsworth was describing S. T. C. in all the stanzas of this poem; that he drew two separate pictures of him; in the first four stanzas a realistic "character portrait," and in the last four a "companion picture, figuring the outward semblance of Coleridge, but embodying characteristics drawn from a third person"; so that we have a "fancy sketch" mixed up with a real one. I cannot agree with this. The evidence against it is

(1) Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal; (2) the poet's and his wife's remarks to Mr. Justice Coleridge; (3) the fact that Wordsworth was not in the habit of "passing from realism into artistic composition," except where he distinctly indicated it, as in the case of the Hawkshead Schoolmaster, in the "Matthew" poems. Such composite or conglomerate work was quite foreign to Wordsworth's genius.

Ed.

* * * * *

RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE

Begun May 3, finished July 4, 1802.--Published 1807

[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. This old man I met a few hundred yards from my cottage; and the account of him is taken from his own mouth. I was in the state of feeling described in the beginning of the poem, while crossing over Barton Fell from Mr. Clarkson's, at the foot of Ullswater, towards Askham. The image of the hare I then observed on the ridge of the Fell.--I.F.]

This poem was known in the Wordsworth household as "The Leech-Gatherer," although it never received that name in print. An entry in Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal of Friday, 3rd October 1800, may preface what she wrote in 1802 about the composition of the poem.

"When William and I returned from accompanying Jones, we met an old man almost double. He had on a coat thrown over his shoulders above his waistcoat and coat. Under this he carried a bundle, and had an apron on, and a night-cap. His face was interesting. He had dark eyes, and a long nose. John, who afterwards met him at Wytheburn, took him for a Jew. He was of Scotch parents, but had been born in the army. He had had a wife, 'and a good woman, and it pleased God to bless him with ten children.' All these were dead but one, of whom he had not heard for many years, a sailor. His trade was to gather leeches; but now leeches were scarce, and he had not strength for it. He lived by begging, and was making his way to Carlisle where he would buy a few books to sell. He said leeches were very scarce, partly owing to this dry season; but many years they had been scarce. He supposed it was owing to their being much sought after; that they did not breed fast; and were of slow growth. Leeches were formerly 2s. 6d. the 100; now they were 30s. He had been hurt in driving a cart, his leg broken, his body driven over, his skull fractured. He felt no pain till he recovered from his first insensibility. It was late in the evening, when the light was just going away."

It is most likely that this walk of William and Dorothy Wordsworth "accompanying Jones," was on the day of Jones's departure from Dove Cottage, viz. 26th September.

The Journal continues:

"Tuesday, 4th May, 1802.--Though William went to bed nervous and jaded in the extreme, he rose refreshed. I wrote out 'The Leech-Gatherer' for him, which he had begun the night before, and of which he wrote several stanzas in bed this morning...."

(They started to walk up the Raise to Wytheburn.)

"It was very hot; we rested several times by the way, read, and repeated 'The Leech-Gatherer.'"

"Friday, 7th May.--William had slept uncommonly well, so, feeling himself strong, he fell to work at 'The Leech-Gatherer'; he wrote hard at it till dinner time, then he gave over, tired to death--he had finished the poem."

"Sunday morning, 9th May.--William worked at 'The Leech-Gatherer' almost incessantly from morning till tea-time. I copied 'The Leech-Gatherer' and other poems for Coleridge. I was oppressed and sick at heart, for he wearied himself to death."

"Sunday, 4th July.--... William finished 'The Leech-Gatherer' to-day."

"Monday, 5th July.--I copied out 'The Leech-Gatherer' for Coleridge, and for us."

From these extracts it is clear that Dorothy Wordsworth considered the poem as "finished" on the 7th of May, and on the 9th she sent a copy to Coleridge; but that it was not till the 4th of July that it was really finished, and then a second copy was forwarded to Coleridge. It is impossible to say from which of the two MSS. sent to him Coleridge transcribed the copy which he forwarded to Sir George Beaumont. From that copy of a copy (which is now amongst the Beaumont MSS. at Coleorton) the various readings given, on Coleridge's authority, in the notes to the poem, were obtained some years ago.

The Fenwick note to the poem illustrates Wordsworth's habit of blending in one description details which were originally separate, both as to time and place. The scenery and the incidents of the poem are alike composite. As he tells us that he met the leech-gatherer a few hundred yards from Dove Cottage, the "lonely place" with its "pool, bare to the eye of heaven," at once suggests White Moss Common and its small tarn; but he adds that, in the opening stanzas of the poem, he is describing a state of feeling he was in, when crossing the fells at the foot of Ullswater to Askam, and that the image of the hare "running races in her mirth," with the glittering mist accompanying her, was observed by him, not on White Moss Common, but in one of the ridges of Moor Divock. To H. C. Robinson he said of the "Leech-Gatherer" (Sept. 10, 1816), that "he gave to his poetic character powers of mind which his original did not possess." (Robinson's 'Diary', etc., vol. ii. p. 24.)

One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.

I There was a roaring in the wind all night; The rain came heavily and fell in floods; But now the sun is rising calm and bright; The birds are singing in the distant woods; Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods; 5 The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters; And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.

II All things that love the sun are out of doors; The sky rejoices in the morning's birth; The grass is bright with rain-drops;--on the moors 10 The hare is running races in her mirth; And with her feet she from the plashy earth Raises a mist; that, [1] glittering in the sun, Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.

III I was a Traveller then upon the moor; 15 I saw the hare that raced about with joy; I heard the woods and distant waters roar; Or heard them not, as happy as a boy: The pleasant season did my heart employ: My old remembrances went from me wholly; 20 And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.

IV But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might Of joy in minds that can no further go, As high as we have mounted in delight In our dejection do we sink as low; 25 To me that morning did it happen so; And fears and fancies thick upon me came; Dim sadness--and blind thoughts, I knew not, nor could name.

V I heard the sky-lark warbling [2] in the sky; And I bethought me of the playful hare: 30 Even such a happy Child of earth am I; Even as these blissful [3] creatures do I fare; Far from the world I walk, and from all care; But there may come another day to me-- Solitude, pain of heart, distress, and poverty. 35

VI My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought, As if life's business were a summer mood; As if all needful things would come unsought To genial faith, still rich in genial good; [4] But how can He expect that others should 40 Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all? [A]

VII I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride; [5] Of Him who walked in glory and in joy 45 Following his plough, along the mountain-side: [6] By our own spirits are we deified: We Poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come [7] in the end despondency and madness.

VIII Now, whether it were [8] by peculiar grace, 50 A leading from above, a something given, Yet it befel, that, in this [9] lonely place, When I with these untoward thoughts had striven, Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven [10] I saw [11] a Man before me unawares: 55 The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs. [12]

IX As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie Couched on the bald top of an eminence; Wonder to all who [13] do the same espy, By what means it could thither come, and whence; 60 So that it seems a thing endued with sense: Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that [14] on a shelf Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself;

X Such seemed this Man, not all alive nor dead, Nor all asleep--in his extreme old age: 65 His body was bent double, feet and head Coming together in life's pilgrimage; [15] As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage Of sickness felt by him in times long past, A more than human weight upon his frame [16] had cast. 70

XI Himself he propped, limbs, body, and pale face, [17] Upon a long grey staff of shaven wood: And, still as I drew near with gentle pace, Upon the margin of that moorish flood [18] Motionless as a cloud the old Man stood, 75 That heareth not the loud winds when they call; And moveth all together, if it move [19] at all. [20]

XII At length, himself unsettling, he the pond Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look Upon the muddy water, which he conned, 80 As if he had been reading in a book: And now a stranger's privilege I took; [21] And, drawing to his side, to him did say, "This morning gives us promise of a glorious day."

XIII A gentle answer did the old Man make, 85 In courteous speech which forth he slowly drew: And him with further words I thus bespake, "What occupation do you there pursue? [22 This is a lonesome place for one like [23] you." Ere he replied, a flash of mild surprise 90 Broke from the sable orbs of his yet-vivid eyes. [24] [B]

XIV His words came feebly, from a feeble chest, But [25] each in solemn order followed each, With something of a lofty [26] utterance drest-- Choice word [27] and measured phrase, above [27] the reach 95 Of ordinary men; a stately speech; Such as grave Livers do in Scotland use, Religious men, who give to God and man their dues.

XV He told, that to these waters he had come [28] To gather leeches, being old and poor: 100 Employment hazardous and wearisome! And he had many hardships to endure: [29] From pond to pond he roamed, from moor to moor; Housing, with God's good help, by choice or chance; And in this way he gained an honest maintenance. 105

XVI The old Man still stood talking by my side; But now [30] his voice to me was like a stream Scarce heard; nor word from word could I divide; And the whole body of the Man did seem Like one whom I had met with in a dream; 110 Or like a man from some far region sent, To give me human strength, by apt admonishment. [31]

XVII My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills; And [32] hope that is unwilling to be fed; Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills; 115 And mighty Poets in their misery dead. --Perplexed, and longing to be comforted, [33] My question eagerly did I renew, "How is it that you live, and what is it you do?" [34]

XVIII He with a smile did then his words repeat; 120 And said, that, gathering leeches, far and wide He travelled; stirring thus about his feet The waters of the pools where they abide. [35] "Once I could meet with them on every side; But they have dwindled long by slow decay; 125 Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may." [36]

XIX While he was talking thus, the lonely place, The old Man's shape, and speech--all troubled me: In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace About the weary moors continually, 130 Wandering about alone and silently. While I these thoughts within myself pursued, He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed.

XX And soon [37] with this he other matter blended, Cheerfully uttered, with demeanour kind, 135 But stately in the main; and when he ended, [38] I could have laughed myself to scorn to find In that decrepit Man so firm a mind. "God," said I, "be my help and stay secure; I'll think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!" 140

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

... which, ... 1807.

And in MS. letter from Coleridge to Sir George Beaumont, 1802.[i]]

[Variant 2:

1820.

... singing ... 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 3:

1807.

... happy ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 4:

1807.

And they who lived in genial faith found nought that grew more willingly than genial good; MS. 1802.]

[Variant 5:

1815.

... who perished in his pride; MS. 1802.

... that perished in its pride; 1807.]

[Variant 6:

1820.

Behind his plough, upon the mountain-side: 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 7:

1836.

... comes ... 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 8:

1807.

... was ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 9:

1807.

... that ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 10:

1820.

When up and down my fancy thus was driven, And I with these untoward thoughts had striven, 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 11:

1807.

I spied ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 12:

My course I stopped as soon as I espied The Old Man in that naked wilderness: Close by a Pond, upon the further side, [i] He stood alone: a minute's space I guess I watch'd him, he continuing motionless: To the Pool's further margin then I drew; He being all the while before me full in view. [ii] 1807.

This stanza, which appeared in the editions of 1807 and 1815, was, on Coleridge's advice, omitted from subsequent ones.]

[Variant 13:

1807.

... that ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 14:

1820.

... which ... 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 15:

1820.

... in their pilgrimage 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 16:

1807.

... his age ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 17:

1836.

Himself he propp'd, both body, limbs, and face, MS. 1802.

... his body, ... 1807.]

[Variant 18:

1820.

Beside the little pond or moorish flood 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 19.

1807.

... moves . . MS. 1802.]

[Variant 20.

He wore a Cloak the same as women wear As one whose blood did needful comfort lack; His face look'd pale as if it had grown fair; And, furthermore he had upon his back, Beneath his cloak, a round and bulky Pack; A load of wool or raiment as might seem. That on his shoulders lay as if it clave to him.

This stanza appeared only in MS. 1802.]

[Variant 21.

1820.

And now such freedom as I could I took; 1807.

And Ms. 1802.]

[Variant 22.

1820.

"What kind of work is that which you pursue? 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 23.

1807.

... for such as ... MS.]

[Variant 24.

1836.

He answer'd me with pleasure and surprize; And there was, while he spake, a fire about his eyes. 1807.

And MS. 1802.

He answered, while a flash of mild surprise Broke from the sable orbs of his yet-vivid eyes. 1820.]

[Variant 25.

1820.

Yet ... 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 26.

1807.

... pompous ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 27.

1807.

...words ... MS.

...beyond ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 28.

1827.

He told me that he to the pond had come ... MS. 1802.

....this pond ... 1807.]

[Variant 29.

1807.

This was his calling, better far than some, Though he had ...... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 30:

1807.

But soon ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 31:

1827.

... and strong admonishment. 1807.

... by strong admonishment. 1820.]

[Variant 32:

1815.

The ... 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 33:

1820.

And now, not knowing what the Old Man had said, 1807.

And MS. 1802.

But now, perplex'd by what the Old Man had said, 1815.]

[Variant 34.

1807.

... live? what is it that you do?" MS. 1802.]

[Variant 35:

1827.

And said, that wheresoe'er they might be spied He gather'd Leeches, stirring at his feet The waters in the Ponds ... MS. 1802.

And said, that, gathering Leeches, far and wide He travelled; stirring thus about his feet The waters of the Ponds ... 1807.]

[Variant 36:

1807.

Once he could meet with them on every side; But fewer they became from day to day, And so his means of life before him died away. MS. 1802.]

[Variant 37:

1807.

And now ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 38:

1807.

Which he delivered with demeanour kind, Yet stately ... MS. 1802.]

* * * * *

SUB-VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Sub-Variant i:

... hither side, MS. 1802.]

[Sub-Variant ii:

He all the while before me being full in view. MS. 1802.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Some have thought that Wordsworth had S.T.C. in his mind, in writing this stanza. I cannot agree with this. The value and interest of the poem would be lessened by our imagining that Wordsworth's heart never failed him; and that, when he appears to moralise at his own expense, he was doing so at Coleridge's. Besides, the date of this poem, taken in connection with entries in the Grasmere Journal of Dorothy Wordsworth, makes it all but certain that Coleridge was not referred to.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare in 'The Matron of Jedborough and her Husband', p. 417, ll. 66-69:

'Some inward trouble suddenly Broke from the Matron's strong black eye-- A remnant of uneasy light, A flash of something over-bright!'

Ed.]

* * * * *

SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Sub-Footnote i: Additional variants obtained from this source are inserted as "MS. 1802."--Ed.]

The late Bishop of Lincoln, in the 'Memoirs' of his uncle (vol. i. pp. 172, 173), quotes from a letter, written by Wordsworth "to some friends, which has much interest as bearing on this poem. [C] The following are extracts from it:

"It is not a matter of indifference whether you are pleased with his figure and employment, it may be comparatively whether you are pleased with _this Poem_; but it is of the utmost importance that you should have had pleasure in contemplating the fortitude, independence, persevering spirit, and the general moral dignity of this old man's character." Again, "I will explain to you, in prose, my feelings in writing _that_ poem.... I describe myself as having been exalted to the highest pitch of delight by the joyousness and beauty of nature; and then as depressed, even in the midst of those beautiful objects, to the lowest dejection and despair. A young poet in the midst of the happiness of nature is described as overwhelmed by the thoughts of the miserable reverses which have befallen the happiest of all men, viz. poets. I think of this till I am so deeply impressed with it, that I consider the manner in which I was rescued from my dejection and despair almost as an interposition of Providence. A person reading the poem with feelings like mine will have been awed and controlled, expecting something spiritual or supernatural. What is brought forward? A lonely place, 'a pond, by which an old man _was_, far from all house or home:' not _stood_, nor _sat_, but _was_--the figure presented in the most naked simplicity possible. This feeling of spirituality or supernaturalness is again referred to as being strong in my mind in this passage. How came he here? thought I, or what can he be doing? I then describe him, whether ill or well is not for me to judge with perfect confidence; but this I _can_ confidently affirm, that though I believe God has given me a strong imagination, I cannot conceive a figure more impressive than that of an old man like this, the survivor of a wife and ten children, travelling alone among the mountains and all lonely places, carrying with him his own fortitude and the necessities which an unjust state of society has laid upon him. You speak of his speech as tedious. Every thing is tedious when one does not read with the feelings of the author. 'The Thorn' is tedious to hundreds; and so is 'The Idiot Boy' to hundreds. It is in the character of the old man to tell his story, which an impatient reader must feel tedious. But, good heavens! such a figure, in such a place; a pious, self-respecting, miserably infirm and pleased old man telling such a tale!"

Ed.

[Footnote A: It is unfortunate that in this, as in many other similar occasions in these delightful volumes by the poet's nephew, the reticence as to names--warrantable perhaps in 1851, so soon after the poet's death--has now deprived the world of every means of knowing to whom many of Wordsworth's letters were addressed. Professor Dowden asks about it--and very naturally:

"Was it the letter to Mary and Sara" (Hutchinson) "about 'The Leech-Gatherer,' mentioned in Dorothy's Journal of 14th June 1802?"

Ed.]

* * * * *

"I GRIEVED FOR BUONAPARTÉ"

Composed May 21, 1802.--Published 1807 [A]

[In the cottage of Town-end, one afternoon in 1801, my sister read to me the sonnets of Milton. I had long been well acquainted with them, but I was particularly struck on that occasion with the dignified simplicity and majestic harmony that runs through most of them--in character so totally different from the Italian, and still more so from Shakespeare's fine sonnets. I took fire, if I may be allowed to say so, and produced three sonnets the same afternoon, the first I ever wrote, except an irregular one at school. Of these three the only one I distinctly remember is 'I grieved for Buonaparté, etc.'; one of the others was never written down; the third, which was I believe preserved, I cannot particularise.--I.F.]

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty," afterwards called "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty." From the edition of 1815 onwards, it bore the title '1801'.--Ed.

I grieved for Buonaparté, with a vain And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood [1] Of that Man's mind--what can it be? what food Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could _he_ gain? 'Tis not in battles that from youth we train 5 The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood. Wisdom doth live with children round her knees: Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk 10 Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk Of the mind's business: these are the degrees By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

... grief! the vital blood Of that man's mind, what can it be? What food Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could he gain? 1802.

... grief! for, who aspires To genuine greatness but from just desires, And knowledge such as _He_ could never gain? 1815.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: It had twice seen the light previously in 'The Morning Post', first on September 16, 1802, unsigned, and again on January 29, 1803, when it was signed W. L. D.--Ed.]

Wordsworth's date 1801, in the Fenwick note, should have been 1802. His sister writes, in her Journal of 1802:

"May 21.--W. wrote two sonnets on Buonaparte, after I had read Milton's sonnets to him."

The "irregular" sonnet, written "at school," to which Wordsworth refers, is probably the one published in the 'European Magazine' in 1787, vol. xi. p. 202, and signed Axiologus.--Ed.

* * * * *

A FAREWELL

Composed May 29, 1802.--Published 1815

[Composed just before my Sister and I went to fetch Mrs. Wordsworth from Gallow-hill, near Scarborough.--I.F.]

This was one of the "Poems founded on the Affections." It was published in 1815 and in 1820 without a title, but with the sub-title 'Composed in the Year 1802'. In 1827 and 1832 it was called 'A Farewell', to which the sub-title was added. The sub-title was omitted in 1836, and afterwards.--Ed.

Farewell, thou little Nook of mountain-ground, Thou rocky corner in the lowest stair Of that magnificent temple which doth bound One side of our whole vale with grandeur rare; Sweet garden-orchard, eminently fair, 5 The loveliest spot that man hath ever found, Farewell!--we leave thee to Heaven's peaceful care, Thee, and the Cottage which thou dost surround.

Our boat is safely anchored by the shore, And there will safely ride [1] when we are gone; 10 The flowering shrubs that deck our humble door [2] Will prosper, though untended and alone: Fields, goods, and far-off chattels we have none: These narrow bounds contain our private store Of things earth makes, and sun doth shine upon; 15 Here are they in our sight--we have no more.

Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell! For two months now in vain we shall be sought; We leave you here in solitude to dwell With these our latest gifts of tender thought; 20 Thou, like the morning, in thy saffron coat, Bright gowan, and marsh-marigold, farewell! Whom from the borders of the Lake we brought, And placed together near our rocky Well.

We go for One to whom ye will be dear; 25 And she will prize this Bower, this Indian shed, Our own contrivance, Building without peer! --A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred, Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered, With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer, 30 Will come [3] to you; to you herself will wed; And love the blessed life that [4] we lead here.

Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed, Bringing thee chosen plants and blossoms blown Among the distant mountains, flower and weed, 35 Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own. Making all kindness registered and known; Thou for our sakes, though Nature's child indeed, Fair in thyself and beautiful alone, Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need. 40

And O most constant, yet most fickle Place, That hast thy wayward moods, as thou dost show To them who look not daily on [5] thy face; Who, being loved, in love no bounds dost know, And say'st, when we forsake thee, "Let them go!" 45 Thou easy-hearted Thing, with thy wild race Of weeds and flowers, till we return be slow, And travel with the year at a soft pace.

Help us to tell Her tales of years gone by, And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best; 50 Joy will be flown in its mortality; Something must stay to tell us of the rest. Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock's breast Glittered at evening like a starry sky; And in this bush our sparrow built her nest, 55 Of which I sang [6] one song that will not die. [A]

O happy Garden! whose seclusion deep Hath been so friendly to industrious hours; And to soft slumbers, that did gently steep Our spirits, carrying with them dreams of flowers, 60 And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers; Two burning months let summer overleap, And, coming back with Her who will be ours, Into thy bosom we again shall creep.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1836.

And safely she will ride ... 1815.

... will she ... 1832.]

[Variant 2:

1836.

... that decorate our door 1815.]

[Variant 3:

1820.

She'll come ... 1815.]

[Variant 4:

1827.

... which ... 1815]

[Variant 5:

1827.

... in ... 1815.]

[Variant 6:

1832.

... sung ... 1815.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: See 'The Sparrow's Nest', p. 236.--Ed.]

"May 29.--William finished his poem on going for Mary. I wrote it out. A sweet day. We nailed up the honeysuckle and hoed the scarlet beans."

She added on the 31st,

"I wrote out the poem on our departure, which he seemed to have finished;"

and on June 13th,

"William has been altering the poem to Mary this morning."

The "little Nook of mountain-ground" is in much the same condition now, as it was in 1802. The "flowering shrubs" and the "rocky well" still exist, and "the steep rock's breast" is "thronged with primroses" in spring. The "bower" is gone; but, where it used to be, a seat is now erected.

The Dove Cottage orchard is excellently characterised in Mr. Stopford Brooke's pamphlet describing it (1890). See also 'The Green Linnet', p. 367, with the note appended to it, and Dorothy Wordsworth's Grasmere Journal, _passim_.--Ed.

* * * * *

"THE SUN HAS LONG BEEN SET"

Composed June 8, 1802.--Published 1807

[This _Impromptu_ appeared, many years ago, among the Author's poems, from which, in subsequent editions, it was excluded. [A] It is reprinted, at the request of the Friend in whose presence the lines were thrown off.--I.F.]

One of the "Evening Voluntaries."--Ed.

The sun has long been set, The stars are out by twos and threes, The little birds are piping yet Among the bushes and trees; [1] There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, 5 And a far-off wind that rushes, And a sound of water that gushes, [2] And the cuckoo's sovereign cry Fills all the hollow of the sky.

Who would go "parading" 10 In London, "and masquerading," [B] On such a night of June With that beautiful soft half-moon, And all these innocent blisses? On such a night as this is! 15

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

... and the trees; 1836.

The edition of 1837 returns to the text of 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1835.

And a noise of wind that rushes, With a noise of water that gushes; 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: It appeared in 1807 as No. II. of "Moods of my own Mind," and not again till the publication of "Yarrow Revisited" in 1835.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare:

'At operas and plays parading, Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading.'

Burns, 'The Two Dogs, a Tale', II. 124-5.--Ed.]

"June 8th (1802).--After tea William came out and walked, and wrote that poem, 'The sun has long been set,' etc. He walked on our own path, and wrote the lines; he called me into the orchard and there repeated them to me."

(Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal.) The "Friend in whose presence the lines were thrown off," was his sister.--Ed.

* * * * *

COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802

Composed July 31, 1802.--Published 1807

[Written on the roof of a coach, on my way to France.--I.F.]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--Ed.

Earth has not any thing to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul [1] who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, 5 Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; 10 Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

... heart ... MS.]

The date which Wordsworth gave to this sonnet on its first publication in 1807, viz. September 3, 1803,--and which he retained in all subsequent editions of his works till 1836,--is inaccurate. He left London for Dover, on his way to Calais, on the 31st of July 1802. The sonnet was written that morning as he travelled towards Dover. The following record of the journey is preserved in his sister's Journal:

"July 30. [A]--Left London between five and six o'clock of the morning outside the Dover coach. A beautiful morning. The city, St. Paul's, with the river--a multitude of little boats, made a beautiful sight as we crossed _Westminster Bridge_; the houses not overhung by their clouds of smoke, and were hung out endlessly; yet the sun shone so brightly, with such a pure light, that there was something like the purity of one of Nature's own grand spectacles."

This sonnet underwent no change in successive editions.

In illustration of it, an anecdote of the late Bishop of St. David's may be given, as reported by Lord Coleridge.

"In the great debate on the abolition of the Irish Establishment in 1869, the Bishop of St. David's, Dr. Thirlwall, had made a very remarkable speech, and had been kept till past daybreak in the House of Lords, before the division was over, and he was able to walk home. He was then an old man, and in failing health. Some time after, he was asked whether he had not run some risk to his health, and whether he did not feel much exhausted. 'Yes,' he said, 'perhaps so; but I was more than repaid by walking out upon Westminster Bridge after the division, seeing London in the morning light as Wordsworth saw it, and repeating to myself his noble sonnet as I walked home.'"

This anecdote was told to the Wordsworth Society, at its meeting on the 3rd of May 1882, after a letter had been read by the Secretary, from Mr. Robert Spence Watson, recording the following similar experience:

"... As confirming the perfect truth of Wordsworth's description of the external aspects of a scene, and the way in which he reached its inmost soul, I may tell you what happened to me, and may have happened to many others. Many years ago, I think it was in 1859, I chanced to be passing (in a pained and depressed state of mind, occasioned by the death of a friend) over Waterloo Bridge at half-past three on a lovely June morning. It was broad daylight, and I was alone. Never when alone in the remotest recesses of the Alps, with nothing around me but the mountains, or upon the plains of Africa, alone with the wonderful glory of the southern night, have I seen anything to approach the solemnity--the soothing solemnity--of the city, sleeping under the early sun:

'Earth has not any thing to show more fair.'

"How simply, yet how perfectly, Wordsworth has interpreted it! It was a happy thing for us that the Dover coach left at so untimely an hour. It was this sonnet, I think, that first opened my eyes to Wordsworth's greatness as a poet. Perhaps nothing that he has written shows more strikingly the vast sympathy which is his peculiar dower."

Ed.

[Footnote A: This is an error of date. Saturday, the day of their departure from London, was the 31st of July.--Ed.]

* * * * *

COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SIDE, NEAR CALAIS, AUGUST, 1802

Composed August, 1802.--Published 1807

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

Fair Star of evening, Splendour of the west, Star of my Country!--on the horizon's brink Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem, to sink On England's bosom; yet well pleased to rest, Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest 5 Conspicuous to the Nations. Thou, I think, Should'st be my Country's emblem; and should'st wink, Bright Star! with laughter on her banners, drest In thy fresh beauty. There! that dusky spot Beneath thee, that is England; there she lies. [1] 10 Blessings be on you both! one hope, one lot, One life, one glory!--I, with many a fear For my dear Country, many heartfelt sighs, Among men who do not love her, linger here.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

... it is England; there it lies. 1807.]

This sonnet, and the seven that follow it, were written during Wordsworth's residence at Calais, in the month of August, 1802. The following extract from his sister's Journal illustrates it:

"We arrived at _Calais_ at four o'clock on Sunday morning the 31st of July. We had delightful walks after the heat of the day was passed--seeing far off in the west the coast of England, like a cloud, crested with Dover Castle, the evening Star, and the glory of the sky; the reflections in the water were more beautiful than the sky itself; purple waves brighter than precious stones, for ever melting away upon the sands."

Ed.

* * * * *

CALAIS, AUGUST, 1802

Composed August 7, 1802--Published 1807 [A]

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

Is it a reed that's shaken by the wind, Or what is it that ye go forth to see? Lords, lawyers, statesmen, squires of low degree, Men known, and men unknown, sick, lame, and blind, Post forward all, like creatures of one kind, 5 With first-fruit offerings crowd to bend the knee In France, before the new-born Majesty. 'Tis ever thus. Ye men of prostrate mind, [1] A seemly reverence may be paid to power; But that's a loyal virtue, never sown 10 In haste, nor springing with a transient shower: When truth, when sense, when liberty were flown, What hardship had it been to wait an hour? Shame on you, feeble Heads, to slavery prone!

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

Thus fares it ever. Men of prostrate mind! 1803.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: This sonnet was first published in 'The Morning Post', Jan. 29, 1803, under the signature W. L. D., along with the one beginning, "I grieved for Buonaparté, with a vain," and was afterwards printed in the 1807 edition of the Poems. Mr. T. Hutchinson (Dublin) suggests that the W. L. D. stood either for _Wordsworthius Libertatis Defensor_, or (more likely) _Wordsworthii Libertati Dedicatunt_ (carmen).--Ed.]

* * * * *

COMPOSED NEAR CALAIS, ON THE ROAD LEADING TO ARDRES, AUGUST 7, 1802 [A]

Composed August, 1802.--Published 1807

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

Jones! as [1] from Calais southward you and I Went pacing side by side, this public Way Streamed with the pomp of a too-credulous day, [B] When faith was pledged to new-born Liberty: [2] A homeless sound of joy was in the sky: 5 From hour to hour the antiquated Earth, [3] Beat like the heart of Man: songs, garlands, mirth, [4] Banners, and happy faces, far and nigh! And now, sole register that these things were, Two solitary greetings have I heard, 10 "_Good morrow, Citizen!_" a hollow word, As if a dead man spake it! Yet despair Touches me not, though pensive as a bird Whose vernal coverts winter hath laid bare. [5]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

... when ... 1807.

... while ... 1820.]

[Variant 2:

1837.

Travell'd on foot together; then this Way, Which I am pacing now, was like the May With festivals of new-born Liberty: 1807.

Where I am walking now ... MS.

Urged our accordant steps, this public Way Streamed with the pomp of a too-credulous day, When faith was pledged to new-born Liberty: 1820.]

[Variant 3:

1845.

The antiquated Earth, as one might say, 1807.

The antiquated Earth, hopeful and gay, 1837.]

[Variant 4:

1845.

... garlands, play, 1807.]

[Variant 5:

1827.

I feel not: happy am I as a Bird: Fair seasons yet will come, and hopes as fair. 1807.

I feel not: jocund as a warbling Bird; 1820.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: In the editions of 1807 to 1837 this is a sub-title, the chief title being 'To a Friend'. In the editions of 1840-1843, the chief title is retained in the Table of Contents, but is erased in the text.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: 14th July 1790.--W. W. 1820.]

This sonnet, originally entitled 'To a Friend, composed near Calais, on the Road leading to Ardres, August 7th, 1802', was addressed to Robert Jones, of Plas-yn-llan, near Ruthin, Denbighshire, a brother collegian at Cambridge, and afterwards a fellow of St. John's College, and incumbent of Soulderne, near Deddington, in Oxfordshire. It was to him that Wordsworth dedicated his 'Descriptive Sketches', which record their wanderings together in Switzerland; and it is to the pedestrian tour, undertaken by the two friends in the long vacation of 1790, that he refers in the above sonnet. The character of Jones is sketched in the poem written in 1800, beginning:

'I marvel how Nature could ever find space,' [A]

and his parsonage in Oxfordshire is described in the sonnet--

'Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends, Is marked by no distinguishable line.'

The following note on Jones was appended to the edition of 1837:

"This excellent Person, one of my earliest and dearest friends, died in the year 1835. We were under-graduates together of the same year, at the same college; and companions in many a delightful ramble through his own romantic Country of North Wales. Much of the latter part of his life he passed in comparative solitude; which I know was often cheered by remembrance of our youthful adventures, and of the beautiful regions which, at home and abroad, we had visited together. Our long friendship was never subject to a moment's interruption,--and, while revising these volumes for the last time, I have been so often reminded of my loss, with a not unpleasing sadness, that I trust the Reader will excuse this passing mention of a Man who well deserves from me something more than so brief a notice. Let me only add, that during the middle part of his life he resided many years (as Incumbent of the Living) at a Parsonage in Oxfordshire, which is the subject of one of the 'Miscellaneous Sonnets.'"

Ed.

[Footnote A: See p. 208 ['A Character'].--Ed.]

* * * * *

CALAIS, AUGUST 15, 1802

Composed August 15, 1802.--Published 1807 [A]

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

Festivals have I seen that were not names: This is young Buonaparte's natal day, And his is henceforth an established sway-- Consul for life. With worship France proclaims Her approbation, and with pomps and games. 5 Heaven grant that other Cities may be gay! Calais is not: and I have bent my way To the [1] sea-coast, noting that each man frames His business as he likes. Far other show My youth here witnessed, in a prouder time; [2] 10 The senselessness of joy was then sublime! Happy is he, who, caring not for Pope, Consul, or King, can sound himself to know The destiny of Man, and live in hope.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

... this ... 1803.]

[Variant 2:

1827.

... Another time That was, when I was here twelve years ago. 1803.

... long years ago: 1807.

... Far different time That was, which here I witnessed, long ago; 1820.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: It had appeared in 'The Morning Post', February 26, 1803, under the initials W. L. D.--Ed.]

* * * * *

"IT IS A BEAUTEOUS EVENING, CALM AND FREE"

Composed August, 1802.--Published 1807

[This was composed on the beach near Calais, in the autumn of 1802.--I. F.]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets." In 1807 it was No. 19 of that series.--Ed.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, [1] The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: [2] 5 Listen! [3] the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder--everlastingly. Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, [A] If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, [4] 10 Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not. [B]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

Air sleeps,--from strife or stir the clouds are free; 1837.

A fairer face of evening cannot be; 1840.

The text of 1845 returns to that of 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1837.

... is on the Sea: 1807.]

[Variant 3:

1807.

But list! ... 1837.

The text of 1840 returns to that of 1807.]

[Variant 4:

1845.

Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, If thou appear'st untouch'd by solemn thought, 1807.

Dear Child! dear happy Girl! if thou appear Heedless--untouched with awe or serious thought, 1837.

Heedless-unawed, untouched with serious thought, 1838.

The text of 1840 returns to that of 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: I thought, for some time, that the "girl" referred to was Dorothy Wordsworth. Her brother used to speak, and to write, of her under many names, "Emily," "Louisa," etc.; and to call her a "child" in 1802--a "child of Nature" she was to the end of her days--or a "girl," seemed quite natural. However, a more probable suggestion was made by Mr. T. Hutchinson to Professor Dowden, that it refers to the girl Caroline mentioned in Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal.

"We arrived at Calais at four o'clock on Sunday morning, the 3rd of July.... We found out Annette and C., chez Madame Avril dans la rue de la Tête d'or. The weather was very hot. We walked by the shore almost every evening with Annette and Caroline, or William and I alone.... It was beautiful on the calm hot night to see the little boats row out of harbour with wings of fire, and the sail-boats with the fiery track which they cut as they went along, and which closed up after them with a hundred thousand sparkles and streams of glowworm light. Caroline was delighted."

I have been unable to discover who Annette and Caroline were. Dorothy Wordsworth frequently records in her Grasmere Journal that either William, or she, "wrote to Annette," but who she was is unknown to either the Wordsworth or the Hutchinson family.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare:

'The Child is father of the Man, etc.'

p. 292.

Also S. T. C. in 'The Friend', iii. p. 46:

'The sacred light of childhood,'

and 'The Prelude', book v. l. 507. Ed.]

* * * * *

ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC

Composed August, 1802.--Published 1807

This and the following ten sonnets were included among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee; And was the safeguard of the west: the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty. She was a maiden City, bright and free; 5 No guile seduced, no force could violate; And, when she took unto herself a Mate, She must espouse the everlasting Sea. [A] And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; 10 Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reached its final day: Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great, is passed away.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Compare 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' (canto iv. II):

'The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord.'

Ed.]

"Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee."

The special glory of Venice dates from the conquest of Constantinople by the Latins in 1202. The fourth Crusade--in which the French and Venetians alone took part--started from Venice, in October 1202, under the command of the Doge, Henry Dandolo. Its aim, however, was not the recovery of Palestine, but the conquest of Constantinople. At the close of the crusade, Venice received the Morea, part of Thessaly, the Cyclades, many of the Byzantine cities, and the coasts of the Hellespont, with three-eighths of the city of Constantinople itself, the Doge taking the curious title of Duke of three-eighths of the Roman Empire.

"And was the safeguard of the west."

This may refer to the prominent part which Venice took in the Crusades, or to the development of her naval power, which made her mistress of the Mediterranean for many years, and an effective bulwark against invasions from the East.

"The eldest Child of Liberty."

The origin of the Venetian State was the flight of many of the inhabitants of the mainland--on the invasion of Italy by Attila--to the chain of islands that lie at the head of the Adriatic.

"In the midst of the waters, free, indigent, laborious, and inaccessible, they gradually coalesced into a republic: the first foundations of Venice were laid in the island of Rialto.... On the verge of the two empires the Venetians exult in the belief of primitive and perpetual independence."

Gibbon's 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire', chap. lx.

"And, when she took unto herself a Mate, She must espouse the everlasting Sea."

In 1177, Pope Alexander III. appealed to the Venetian Republic for protection against the German Emperor. The Venetians were successful in a naval battle at Saboro, against Otho, the son of Frederick Barbarossa. In return, the Pope presented the Doge Liani with a ring, with which he told him to wed the Adriatic, that posterity might know that the sea was subject to Venice, "as a bride is to her husband."

In September 1796, nearly six years before this sonnet was written, the fate of the old Venetian Republic was sealed by the treaty of Campo Formio. The French army under Napoleon had subdued Italy, and, having crossed the Alps, threatened Vienna. To avert impending disaster, the Emperor Francis arranged a treaty which extinguished the Venetian Republic. He divided its territory between himself and Napoleon, Austria retaining Istria, Dalmatia, and the left bank of the Adige in the Venetian State, with the "maiden city" itself; France receiving the rest of the territory and the Ionian Islands. Since the date of that treaty the city has twice been annexed to Italy.--Ed.

* * * * *

THE KING OF SWEDEN

Composed August, 1802.--Published 1807

The Voice of song from distant lands shall call To that great [1] King; shall hail the crownèd Youth Who, taking counsel of unbending Truth, By one example hath set forth to all How they with dignity may stand; or fall, 5 If fall they must. Now, whither doth it tend? And what to him and his shall be the end? That thought is one which neither can appal Nor cheer him; for the illustrious Swede hath done The thing which ought to be; is raised _above_ [2] 10 All consequences: work he hath begun Of fortitude, and piety, and love, Which all his glorious ancestors approve: The heroes bless him, him their rightful son.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

... bold ... In 1838 only.]

[Variant 2:

1845.

... He stands _above_ 1807.]

The following is Wordsworth's note to this sonnet, added in 1837:

"In this and a succeeding Sonnet on the same subject, let me be understood as a Poet availing himself of the situation which the King of Sweden occupied, and of the principles AVOWED IN HIS MANIFESTOS; as laying hold of these advantages for the purpose of embodying moral truths. This remark might, perhaps, as well have been suppressed; for to those who may be in sympathy with the course of these Poems, it will be superfluous; and will, I fear, be thrown away upon that other class, whose besotted admiration of the intoxicated despot hereafter placed [A] in contrast with him, is the most melancholy evidence of degradation in British feeling and intellect which the times have furnished."

The king referred to is Gustavus IV., who was born in 1778, proclaimed king in 1792, and died in 1837. His first public act after his accession was to join in the coalition against Napoleon, and dislike of Napoleon was the main-spring of his policy. It is to this that Wordsworth refers in the sonnet:

'... the illustrious Swede hath done The thing which ought to be ...'

It made him unpopular, however, and gave rise to a conspiracy against him, and to his consequent abdication in 1809. He "died forgotten and in poverty."--Ed.

[Footnote A: See the sonnet beginning "Call not the royal Swede unfortunate," vol. iv. p. 224.--Ed.]

* * * * *

TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE

Composed August, 1802.--Published 1807 [A]

Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men! [B] Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den;--[1] O miserable Chieftain! where and when 5 Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. [2] Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; 10 There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind. [C]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

Whether the rural milk-maid by her cow Sing in thy hearing, or thou liest now Alone in some deep dungeon's earless den, 1803.

Whether the all-cheering sun be free to shed His beams around thee, or thou rest thy head Pillowed in some dark dungeon's noisome den, 1815.

Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or Thou liest now Buried in some deep dungeon's earless den;--1820.]

[Variant 2:

1807.

... Yet die not; be thou Life to thyself in death; with chearful brow Live, loving death, nor let one thought in ten Be painful to thee ... 1803.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: But previously printed in 'The Morning Post' of February 2, 1803, under the signature W. L. D.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare Massinger, 'The Bondman', act I. scene iii. l. 8:

'Her man of men, Timoleon.'

Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare Rowe's 'Tamerlane', iii. 2:

'But to subdue the unconquerable mind.'

Also Gray's poem 'The Progress of Poesy', ii. 2, l. 10:

'Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame.'

Ed.]

Francois Dominique Toussaint (who was surnamed L'Ouverture), the child of African slaves, was born at St. Domingo in 1743. He was a Royalist in political sympathy till 1794, when the decree of the French convention, giving liberty to the slaves, brought him over to the side of the Republic. He was made a general of division by Laveux, and succeeded in taking the whole of the north of the island from the English. In 1796 he was made chief of the French army of St. Domingo, and first the British commander, and next the Spanish, surrendered everything to him. He became governor of the island, which prospered under his rule. Napoleon, however, in 1801, issued an edict re-establishing slavery in St. Domingo. Toussaint professed obedience, but showed that he meant to resist the edict. A fleet of fifty-four vessels was sent from France to enforce it. Toussaint was proclaimed an outlaw. He surrendered, and was received with military honours, but was treacherously arrested and sent to Paris in June 1802, where he died, in April 1803, after ten months' hardship in prison. He had been two months in prison when Wordsworth addressed this sonnet to him.--Ed.

* * * * *

COMPOSED IN THE VALLEY NEAR DOVER, ON THE DAY OF LANDING

Composed August 30, 1802.--Published 1807

Here, on our native soil, we breathe once more. [1] The cock that crows, the smoke that curls, that sound Of bells;--those boys who [2] in yon meadow-ground In white-sleeved shirts are playing; [A] and the roar Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore;--[3] 5 All, all are English. Oft have I looked round With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found Myself so satisfied in heart before. Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass, Thought for another moment. Thou art free, 10 My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear Companion at my side.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

Dear fellow Traveller! here we are once more. 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1820.

... that ... 1807.]

[Variant 3:

1815.

In white sleev'd shirts are playing by the score, And even this little River's gentle roar, 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: At the beginning of Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Journal of a Tour on the Continent' in 1820, she writes (July 10, 1820):

"When within a mile of Dover saw crowds of people at a cricket match, the numerous combatants dressed in 'white-sleeved shirts;' and it was in the very same field, where, when we 'trod the grass of England once again,' twenty years ago, we had seen an assemblage of youths, engaged in the same sport, so very like the present that all might have been the same. (See my brother's sonnet.)"

Ed.]

Dorothy Wordsworth writes in her Journal,

"On Sunday, the 29th of August, we left Calais, at twelve o'clock in the morning, and landed at Dover at one on Monday the 30th. It was very pleasant to me, when we were in the harbour at Dover, to breathe the fresh air, and to look up and see the stars among the ropes of the vessel. The next day was very hot, we bathed, and sat upon the Dover Cliffs, and looked upon France with many a melancholy and tender thought. We could see the shores almost as plain as if it were but an English lake. We mounted the coach, and arrived in London at six, the 30th August."

Ed.

* * * * *

SEPTEMBER 1, 1802

Composed September 1, 1802.--Published 1807 [A]

Among the capricious acts of Tyranny that disgraced these times, was the chasing of all Negroes from France by decree of the Government: we had a Fellow-passenger who was one of the expelled.--W. W. 1827.

We had a female Passenger who came [1] From Calais with us, spotless [2] in array, A white-robed Negro, [3] like a lady gay, Yet downcast [4] as a woman fearing blame; Meek, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim [5] 5 She sate, from notice turning not away, But on all proffered intercourse did lay [6] A weight of languid speech, or to the same No sign of answer made by word or face: Yet still her eyes retained their tropic fire, 10 That, burning independent of the mind, Joined with the lustre of her rich attire To mock the Outcast--O ye Heavens, be kind! And feel, thou Earth, for this afflicted Race![7]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1845.

We had a fellow-passenger that came 1803.

... who ... 1807.

Driven from the soil of France, a Female came 1827.

The edition of 1838 returns to the text of 1807, but the edition of 1840 reverts to that of 1827.]

[Variant 2:

1845.

... gaudy ... 1803.

... brilliant ... 1827.]

[Variant 3:

1845.

A negro woman, ... 1803.]

[Variant 4:

1827.

Yet silent ... 1803.]

[Variant 5:

1827.

Dejected, downcast, meek, and more than tame: 1803.

Dejected, meek, yea pitiably tame, 1807.]

[Variant 6:

1827.

But on our proffer'd kindness still did lay 1803.]

[Variant 7:

1845.

... or at the same Was silent, motionless in eyes and face. She was a negro woman, out of France, Rejected, like all others of that race: Not one of whom may now find footing there. What is the meaning of this ordinance? Dishonour'd Despots, tell us if ye dare. 1803.

... driv'n from France, Rejected like all others of that race, Not one of whom may now find footing there; This the poor Out-cast did to us declare, Nor murmur'd at the unfeeling Ordinance. 1807.

Meanwhile those eyes retained their tropic fire, Which, burning independent of the mind, Joined with the lustre of her rich attire To mock the outcast--O ye Heavens, be kind! And feel, thou Earth, for this afflicted Race! 1827.

Yet still those eyes retained their tropic fire, 1837.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: First printed in 'The Morning Post', February 11, 1803, under the title of 'The Banished Negroes', and signed W. L. D.--Ed.]

It was a natural arrangement which led Wordsworth to place this sonnet, in his edition of 1807, immediately after the one addressed 'To Toussaint L'Ouverture'.--Ed.

* * * * *

SEPTEMBER, 1802, NEAR DOVER [A]

Composed September, 1802.--Published 1807

Inland, within a hollow vale, I stood; And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear, The coast of France--the coast of France how near! Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood. I shrunk; for verily the barrier flood 5 Was like a lake, or river bright and fair, A span of waters; yet what power is there! What mightiness for evil and for good! [B] Even so doth God protect us if we be Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and waters roll, 10 Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity; Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree Spake laws to _them_, and said that by the soul Only, the Nations shall be great and free.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: From 1807 to 1843 the title was 'September, 1802'; "near Dover" appeared in the "Sonnets" of 1838, but did not become a permanent part of the title until 1845.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare in S. T. 'Coleridge's Ode to the Departing Year', stanza vii.:

'And Ocean 'mid his uproar wild Speaks safety to his island-child.'

Ed.]

In 'The Friend' (ed. 1818, vol. i. p. 107), Coleridge writes:

"The narrow seas that form our boundaries, what were they in times of old? The convenient highway for Danish and Norman pirates. What are they now? Still, but a 'Span of Waters.' Yet they roll at the base of the Ararat, on which the Ark of the Hope of Europe and of Civilization rested!"

He then quotes this sonnet from the line "Even so doth God protect us if we be."

The note appended to the sonnet, 'Composed in the Valley near Dover, on the day of Landing' (p. 341), shows that this one refers to the same occasion; and that while "Inland, within a hollow vale," Wordsworth was, at the same time, on the Dover Cliffs; the "vale" being one of the hollow clefts in the headland, which front the Dover coast-line. The sonnet may, however, have been finished afterwards in London.--Ed.

* * * * *

WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1802

Composed September, 1802.--Published 1807

[This was written immediately after my return from France to London, when I could not but be struck, as here described, with the vanity and parade of our own country, especially in great towns and cities, as contrasted with the quiet, and I may say the desolation, that the Revolution had produced in France. This must be borne in mind, or else the reader may think that in this and the succeeding Sonnets I have exaggerated the mischief engendered and fostered among us by undisturbed wealth. It would not be easy to conceive with what a depth of feeling I entered into the struggle carried on by the Spaniards for their deliverance from the usurped power of the French. Many times have I gone from Allan Bank in Grasmere Vale, where we were then residing, to the top of Raise-gap, as it is called, so late as two o'clock in the morning, to meet the carrier bringing the newspapers from Keswick. Imperfect traces of the state of mind in which I then was may be found in my tract on the Convention of Cintra, as well as in these Sonnets.--I. F.]

O FRIEND! [A] I know not which way I must look [1] For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom!--We must run glittering like a brook 5 In the open sunshine, or we are unblest: The wealthiest man among us is the best: No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry; and these we adore: 10 Plain living and high thinking are no more: The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws. [B]

* * * * *

VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

O thou proud City! which way shall I look 1838.

The text of 1840 returns to that of 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: The "Friend" was Coleridge. In the original MS. it stands "Coleridge! I know not," etc. Wordsworth changed it in the proof stage.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare--in Hartley Coleridge's 'Lives of Distinguished Northerners'--what is said of this sonnet, in his life of Anne Clifford, where the passing cynicism of Wordsworth's poem is pointed out.--Ed.]

Wordsworth stayed in London from August 30th to September 22nd 1802.--Ed.

* * * * *

LONDON, 1802

Composed September, 1802.--Published 1807

Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower 5 Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: 10 Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet [A] thy heart The lowliest duties on herself [1] did lay.

* * * * *

VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1820.

... itself ... 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: In old English "yet" means "continuously" or "always"; and it is still used in Cumberland with this signification.--Ed.]

* * * * *

"GREAT MEN HAVE BEEN AMONG US; HANDS THAT PENNED"

Composed September, 1802.--Published 1807

Great men have been among us; hands that penned And tongues that uttered wisdom--better none: The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, [A] and others who called Milton friend. These moralists could act and comprehend: 5 They knew how genuine glory was put on; Taught us how rightfully a nation shone In splendour: what strength was, that would not bend But in [1] magnanimous meekness. France, 'tis strange, Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then. 10 Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! No single volume paramount, no code, No master spirit, no determined road; But equally a want of books and men!

* * * * *

VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

But to ... MS.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: See Clarendon's 'History of the Rebellion', book iii.--Ed.]

* * * * *

"IT IS NOT TO BE THOUGHT OF THAT THE FLOOD"

Composed September, 1802.--Published 1807 [A]

It is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood,"[B] Roused though it be full often to a mood 5 Which spurns the check of salutary bands, [1] That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: 10 We must be [2] free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.--In every thing we are sprung Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

... unwithstood, Road by which all might come and go that would, And bear out freights of worth to foreign lands; 1803.]

[Variant 2:

1807.

... must live ... 1803.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: It was first printed in 'The Morning Post', April 16. 1803, and signed W. L. D.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare Daniel's 'Civil War', book ii. stanza 7.--Ed.]

* * * * *

"WHEN I HAVE BORNE IN MEMORY WHAT HAS TAMED"

Composed September, 1802.--Published 1807 [A]

When I have borne in memory what has tamed Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country!--am I to be blamed? 5 Now, [1] when I think of thee, and what thou art, Verily, in the bottom of my heart, Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. [2] For dearly must we prize thee; we who find In thee a bulwark for the cause of men; [3] 10 And I by my affection was beguiled: What wonder if a Poet now and then, Among the many movements of his mind, Felt for thee as a lover or a child!

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1.

1845.

But,... 1803.]

[Variant 2.

1807.

I of those fears of mine am much ashamed. 1803.]

[Variant 3.

1845.

But dearly do I prize thee for I find In thee a bulwark of the cause of men; 1803.

But dearly must we prize thee; we who find 1807.

... for the cause of men; 1827.

Most dearly 1838.

The text of 1840 returns to that of 1827.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: But printed previously in 'The Morning Post', September 17, 1803, under the title 'England', and signed W. L. D. Also, see Coleridge's 'Poems on Political Events', 1828-9.--Ed.]

* * * * *

COMPOSED AFTER A JOURNEY ACROSS THE HAMBLETON HILLS, [A] YORKSHIRE

Composed October 4, 1802.--Published 1807

[Composed October 4th, 1802, after a journey over the Hambleton Hills, on a day memorable to me--the day of my marriage. The horizon commanded by those hills is most magnificent. The next day, while we were travelling in a post-chaise up Wensleydale, we were stopped by one of the horses proving restive, and were obliged to wait two hours in a severe storm before the post-boy could fetch from the inn another to supply its place. The spot was in front of Bolton Hall, where Mary Queen of Scots was kept prisoner, soon after her unfortunate landing at Workington. The place then belonged to the Scroops, and memorials of her are yet preserved there. To beguile the time I composed a Sonnet. The subject was our own confinement contrasted with hers; but it was not thought worthy of being preserved.--I. F.]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--Ed.

Dark and more dark the shades of evening fell; The wished-for point was reached--but at an hour When little could be gained from that rich dower [1] Of prospect, whereof many thousands tell. Yet did the glowing west with marvellous power 5 Salute us; there stood Indian citadel, Temple of Greece, and minster with its tower Substantially expressed--a place for bell Or clock to toll from! Many a tempting isle, With groves that never were imagined, lay 10 'Mid seas how steadfast! objects all for the eye Of silent rapture; but we felt the while [2] We should forget them; they are of the sky, And from our earthly memory fade away.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

Ere we had reach'd the wish'd-for place, night fell: We were too late at least by one dark hour, And nothing could we see of all that power Of prospect, ... 1807.

Dark, and more dark, the shades of Evening fell; The wish'd-for point was reach'd--but late the hour; And little could we see of all that power 1815.

And little could be gained from all that dower 1827.]

[Variant 2:

1837.

The western sky did recompence us well With Grecian Temple, Minaret, and Bower; And, in one part, a Minster with its Tower Substantially distinct, a place for Bell Or Clock to toll from. Many a glorious pile Did we behold, sights that might well repay All disappointment! and, as such, the eye Delighted in them; but we felt, the while, 1807.

Substantially expressed--... 1815.

Did we behold, fair sights that might repay 1815.

Yet did the glowing west in all its power 1827.

The text of 1827 is otherwise identical with that of 1837.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Called by Wordsworth, "The Hamilton Hills" in the editions from 1807 to 1827.--Ed.]

The following extract from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal indicates, as fully as any other passage in it, the use which her brother occasionally made of it. We have the "Grecian Temple," and the "Minster with its Tower":

"Before we had crossed the Hambleton Hill and reached the point overlooking Yorkshire it was quite dark. We had not wanted, however, fair prospects before us, as we drove along the flat plain of the high hill; far, far off from us, in the western sky, we saw shapes of castles, ruins among groves--a great, spreading wood, rocks, and single trees--a Minster with its Tower unusually distinct, Minarets in another quarter, and a round Grecian Temple also; the colours of the sky of a bright grey, and the forms of a sober grey, with a dome. As we descended the hill there was no distinct view, but of a great space, only near us, we saw the wild (and as the people say) bottomless Tarn in the hollow at the side of the hill. It seemed to be made visible to us only by its own light, for all the hill about us was dark."

Wordsworth and his sister crossed over the Hambleton (or Hamilton) Hills, on their way from Westmoreland to Gallow Hill, Yorkshire, to visit the Hutchinsons, before they went south to London and Calais, where they spent the month of August, 1802. But after his marriage to Mary Hutchinson, on the 4th of October, Wordsworth, his wife, and sister, recrossed these Hambleton Hills on their way to Grasmere, which they reached on the evening of the 6th October. The above sonnet was composed on the evening of the 4th October, as the Fenwick note indicates.--Ed.

* * * * *

TO H. C.

SIX YEARS OLD

Composed 1802.--Published 1807

One of the "Poems referring to the Period of Childhood."--Ed.

O thou! whose fancies from afar are brought; Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel, And fittest to unutterable thought The breeze-like motion and the self-born carol; Thou faery voyager! that dost float 5 In such clear water, that thy boat May rather seem To brood on air [A] than on an earthly stream; Suspended in a stream as clear as sky, Where earth and heaven do make one imagery; 10 O blessed vision! happy child! Thou [1] art so exquisitely wild, I think of thee with many fears For what may be thy lot in future years.

I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest, 15 Lord of thy house and hospitality; And Grief, uneasy lover! never rest But when she sate within the touch of thee. O too industrious folly! O vain and causeless melancholy! 20 Nature will either end thee quite; Or, lengthening out thy season of delight, Preserve for thee, by individual right, A young lamb's heart among the full-grown flocks. What hast thou to do with sorrow, 25 Or the injuries of to-morrow? Thou art a dew-drop, which the morn brings forth, Ill fitted to sustain [2] unkindly shocks, Or to be trailed along the soiling earth; A gem that glitters while it lives, 30 And no forewarning gives; But, at the touch of wrong, without a strife Slips in a moment out of life.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1845.

That ... 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1827.

Not doom'd to jostle with ... 1807.

Not framed to undergo ... 1815.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: See Carver's Description of his Situation upon one of the Lakes of America.--W. W. 1807.]

These stanzas were addressed to Hartley Coleridge. The lines,

'I think of thee with many fears For what may be thy lot in future years,'

taken in connection with his subsequent career, suggest the similarly sad "presentiment" with which the 'Lines composed above Tintern Abbey' conclude. The following is the postscript to a letter by his father, S. T. C., addressed to Sir Humphry Davy, Keswick, July 25, 1800:

"Hartley is a spirit that dances on an aspen leaf; the air that yonder sallow-faced and yawning tourist is breathing, is to my babe a perpetual nitrous oxide. Never was more joyous creature born. Pain with him is so wholly trans-substantiated by the joys that had rolled on before, and rushed on after, that oftentimes five minutes after his mother has whipt him he has gone up and asked her to whip him again."

('Fragmentary Remains, Literary and Scientific', of Sir Humphry Davy, Bart., pp. 78, 79.)--Ed.

* * * * *

TO THE DAISY

Composed 1802.--Published 1807

"Her [A] divine skill taught me this, That from every thing I saw I could some instruction draw, And raise pleasure to the height Through the meanest object's sight. By the murmur of a spring, Or the least bough's rustelling; By a Daisy whose leaves spread Shut when Titan goes to bed; Or a shady bush or tree; She could more infuse in me Than all Nature's beauties can In some other wiser man."

G. WITHER. [1]

[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere.--I. F.]

One of the "Poems of the Fancy."--Ed.

In youth from rock to rock I went, From hill to hill in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent, Most pleased when most uneasy; But now my own delights I make,--5 My thirst at every rill can slake, [2] And gladly Nature's love partake, Of Thee, sweet Daisy! [3]

Thee Winter in the garland wears That thinly decks his few grey hairs; 10 Spring parts the clouds with softest airs, That she may sun thee; [4] Whole Summer-fields are thine by right; And Autumn, melancholy Wight! Doth in thy crimson head delight 15 When rains are on thee.

In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Thou greet'st the traveller in the lane; Pleased at his greeting thee again; Yet nothing daunted, 20 Nor grieved if thou be set at nought: [5] And oft alone in nooks remote We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.

Be violets in their secret mews 25 The flowers the wanton Zephyrs choose; Proud be the rose, with rains and dews Her head impearling, Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim, Yet hast not gone without thy fame; 30 Thou art indeed by many a claim The Poet's darling.

If to a rock from rains he fly, Or, some bright day of April sky, Imprisoned by hot sunshine lie 35 Near the green holly, And wearily at length should fare; He needs [6] but look about, and there Thou art!--a friend at hand, to scare His melancholy. 40

A hundred times, by rock or bower, Ere thus I have lain couched an hour, Have I derived from thy sweet power Some apprehension; Some steady love; some brief delight; [7] 45 Some memory that had taken flight; Some chime [8] of fancy wrong or right; Or stray invention.

If stately passions in me burn, And one [9] chance look to Thee should turn, 50 I drink out of an humbler urn A lowlier pleasure; The homely sympathy that heeds The common life, our nature breeds; A wisdom fitted to the needs 55 Of hearts at leisure.

Fresh-smitten by the morning ray, When thou art up, alert and gay, Then, cheerful Flower! my spirits play With kindred gladness: [10] 60 And when, at dusk, by dews opprest Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest Hath often eased my pensive breast Of careful sadness. [11]

And all day long I number yet, 65 All seasons through, another debt, Which I, wherever thou art met, To thee am owing; [12] An instinct call it, a blind sense; A happy, genial influence, 70 Coming one knows not how, nor whence, Nor whither going.

Child of the Year! that round dost run Thy pleasant course,--when day's begun As ready to salute the sun 75 As lark or leveret, Thy long-lost praise thou shalt regain; [B] Nor be less dear to future men Than in old time;--thou not in vain [13] Art Nature's favourite. [C] 80

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: The extract from Wither was first prefixed to this poem in the edition of 1815. The late Mr. Dykes Campbell was of opinion that Charles Lamb had suggested this motto to Wordsworth, as 'The Shepherd's Hunting' was Lamb's "prime favourite" amongst Wither's poems. It may be as well to note that his quotation was erroneous in two places. His "instruction" should be "invention" (l. 3), and his "the" (in l. 4) should be "her."--Ed.]

[Variant 2:

1807.

To gentle sympathies awake, MS.]

[Variant 3:

1807.

And Nature's love of Thee partake, Her much-loved Daisy! 1836.

The text of 1840 returns to the reading of 1807.

Of her sweet Daisy. C.]

[Variant 4:

1836.

When soothed a while by milder airs, Thee Winter in the garland wears That thinly shades his few grey hairs; Spring cannot shun thee; 1807.

When Winter decks his few grey hairs Thee in the scanty wreath he wears; Spring parts the clouds with softest airs, That she may sun thee; 1827.]

[Variant 5:

1836.

... in the lane; If welcome once thou count'st it gain; Thou art not daunted, Nor car'st if thou be set at naught; 1807.

If welcom'd ... 1815.

The text of 1827 returns to that of 1807.]

[Variant 6:

1820

He need..... 1807]

[Variant 7:

1807

....some chance delight; MS.]

[Variant 8:

1807

Some charm..... C.]

[Variant 9:

1807

And some..... MS.]

[Variant 10:

1836.

When, smitten by the morning ray, I see thee rise alert and gay, Then, chearful Flower! my spirits play With kindred motion: 1807.

With kindred gladness: 1815.

Then Daisy! do my spirits play, With cheerful motion. MS.]

[Variant 11:

1815.

At dusk, I've seldom mark'd thee press The ground, as if in thankfulness Without some feeling, more or less, Of true devotion. 1807.

The ground in modest thankfulness MS.]

[Variant 12:

1807.

But more than all I number yet O bounteous Flower! another debt Which I to thee wherever met Am daily owing; MS.]

[Variant 13:

1836.

Child of the Year! that round dost run Thy course, bold lover of the sun, And chearful when the day's begun As morning Leveret, Thou long the Poet's praise shalt gain; Thou wilt be more belov'd by men In times to come; thou not in vain 1807.

Thy long-lost praise thou shalt regain; Dear shalt thou be to future men As in old time;--1815.

Dear thou shalt be 1820.

The text of 1827 returns to that of 1815.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: His Muse.--W. W. 1815.

The extract is from 'The Shepherds Hunting', eclogue fourth, ll. 368-80.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: See, in Chaucer and the elder Poets, the honours formerly paid to this flower.--W. W. 1815.]

[Footnote C: This Poem, and two others to the same Flower, which the Reader will find in the second Volume, were written in the year 1802; which is mentioned, because in some of the ideas, though not in the manner in which those ideas are connected, and likewise even in some of the expressions, they bear a striking resemblance to a Poem (lately published) of Mr. Montgomery, entitled, 'A Field Flower'. This being said, Mr. Montgomery will not think any apology due to him; I cannot however help addressing him in the words of the Father of English Poets:

'Though it happe me to rehersin-- That ye han in your freshe songis saied, Forberith me, and beth not ill apaied, Sith that ye se I doe it in the honour Of Love, and eke in service of the Flour.'

W. W. 1807.

In the edition of 1836, the following variation of the text of this note occurs: "There is a resemblance to passages in a Poem."--Ed.]

For illustration of the last stanza, see Chaucer's Prologue to 'The Legend of Good Women'.

'As I seyde erst, whanne comen is the May, That in my bed ther daweth me no day, That I nam uppe and walkyng in the mede, To seen this floure agein the sonne sprede, Whan it up rysith erly by the morwe; That blisful sight softneth al my sorwe, So glad am I, whan that I have presence Of it, to doon it alle reverence, As she that is of alle floures flour.' ... To seen this flour so yong, so fresshe of hewe, Constreynde me with so gredy desire, That in myn herte I feele yet the fire, That made me to ryse er yt wer day, And this was now the firste morwe of May, With dredful hert, and glad devocioun For to ben at the resurreccion Of this flour, whan that yt shulde unclose Agayne the sonne, that roos as rede as rose ... And doune on knes anoon ryght I me sette, And as I koude, this fresshe flour I grette, Knelying alwey, til it unclosed was, Upon the smale, softe, swote gras.

Again, in The 'Cuckoo and the Nightingale', after a wakeful night, the Poet rises at dawn, and wandering forth, reaches a "laund of white and green."

'So feire oon had I nevere in bene, The grounde was grene, y poudred with daysé, The floures and the gras ilike al hie, Al grene and white, was nothing elles sene.'

Ed.

* * * * *

TO THE SAME FLOWER [A]

Composed 1802.--Published 1807

[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere.-I. F.]

One of the "Poems of the Fancy."--Ed.

With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Daisy! again I talk to thee, [1] For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming Common-place 5 Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace, Which Love makes for thee!

Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, [2] 10 Loose types of things through all degrees, Thoughts of thy raising: And many a fond and idle name I give to thee, for praise or blame, As is the humour of the game, 15 While I am gazing.

A nun demure of lowly port; Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court, In thy simplicity the sport Of all temptations; 20 A queen in crown of rubies drest; A starveling in a scanty vest; Are all, as seems [3] to suit thee best, Thy appellations.

A little cyclops, with one eye 25 Staring to threaten and defy, That thought comes next--and instantly The freak is over, The shape will vanish--and behold A silver shield with boss of gold, 30 That spreads itself, some faery bold In fight to cover!

I see thee glittering from afar-- And then thou art a pretty star; Not quite so fair as many are 35 In heaven above thee! Yet like a star, with glittering crest, Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;-- May peace come never to his nest, Who shall reprove thee! 40

Bright _Flower!_ [4] for by that name at last, When all my reveries are past, I call thee, and to that cleave fast, Sweet silent creature! That breath'st with me in sun and air, 45 Do thou, as thou art wont, repair My heart with gladness, and a share Of thy meek nature!

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1845.

Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee, 1807.

Yet once again I talk . . 1836.]

[Variant 2:

1820.

Oft do I sit by thee at ease, And weave a web of similies, 1807.]

[Variant 3:

1827.

... seem ... 1807.]

[Variant 4:

1836.

Sweet Flower!.... 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: The two following Poems were overflowings of the mind in composing the one which stands first in the first Volume (i.e. the previous Poem),--W. W. 1807.]

In his editions 1836-1849 Wordsworth gave 1805 as the year in which this poem was composed, but the Fenwick note prefixed to it renders this impossible. It evidently belongs to the same time, and "mood," as the previous poem.--Ed.

* * * * *

TO THE DAISY (#2)

Composed 1802.--Published 1807

[This and the other Poems addressed to the same flower were composed at Town-end, Grasmere, during the earlier part of my residence there. I have been censured for the last line but one--"thy function apostolical"--as being little less than profane. How could it be thought so? The word is adopted with reference to its derivation, implying something sent on a mission; and assuredly this little flower, especially when the subject of verse, may be regarded, in its humble degree, as administering both to moral and to spiritual purposes.--I.F.]

This was included among the "Poems of the Fancy" from 1815 to 1832. In 1837 it was transferred to the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--Ed.

Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere, Bold in maternal Nature's care, And all the long year through the heir [1] Of joy and [2] sorrow. Methinks that there abides in thee 5 Some concord [3] with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest thorough!

Is it that Man is soon deprest? [4] A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest, 10 Does little on his memory rest, Or on his reason, And [5] Thou would'st teach him how to find A shelter under every wind, A hope for times that are unkind 15 And every season?

Thou wander'st the wide world about, Uncheck'd by pride or scrupulous doubt, With friends to greet thee, or without, Yet pleased and willing; 20 Meek, yielding to the occasion's call, And all things suffering from all, Thy function apostolical In peace fulfilling. [6]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1840.

Bright Flower, whose home is every where! A Pilgrim bold in Nature's care, And all the long year through the heir 1807.

Bright flower, whose home is every where! A Pilgrim bold in Nature's care, And oft, the long year through, the heir 1827.

Confiding Flower, by Nature's care Made bold,--who, lodging here or there, Art all the long year through the heir 1837.]

[Variant 2:

1850.

... or ... 1807.]

[Variant 3:

1807.

Communion ... 1837.

The text of 1840 returns to that of 1807.]

[Variant 4:

1807.

And wherefore? Man is soon deprest; 1827.

The text of 1837 returns to that of 1807.]

[Variant 5:

1807.

But ... 1827.

The text of 1837 returns to that of 1807.]

[Variant 6:

1807.

This stanza was omitted in the editions of 1827 and 1832, but replaced in 1837.]

The three preceding poems 'To the Daisy' evidently belong to the same time, and are, as Wordsworth expressly says, "overflowings of the mind in composing the one which stands first." Nevertheless, in the revised edition of 1836-7, he gave the date 1802 to the first, 1803 to the third, and 1805 to the second of them. In the earlier editions 1815 to 1832, they are all classed among the "Poems of the Fancy," but in the edition of 1837, and afterwards, the last, "Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere," is ranked among the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection." They should manifestly be placed together. Wordsworth's fourth poem 'To the Daisy', which is an elegy on his brother John, and belongs to a subsequent year--having no connection with the three preceding poems, will be found in its chronological place.--Ed.

* * * * *

LOUISA

AFTER ACCOMPANYING HER ON A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION

Composed 1802.--Published 1807

[Town-end 1805.--I. F.]

One of the "Poems founded on the Affections." From 1807 to 1832 the title was simply 'Louisa'.--Ed.

I met Louisa in the shade, And, having seen that lovely Maid, Why should I fear to say [1] That, nymph-like, she is fleet and strong, [2] And down the rocks can leap along 5 Like rivulets in May? [3] She loves her fire, her cottage-home; Yet o'er the moorland will she roam In weather rough and bleak; And, when against the wind she strains, 10 Oh! might I kiss the mountain rains That sparkle on her cheek.

Take all that's mine "beneath the moon," [A] If I with her but half a noon May sit beneath the walls 15 Of some old cave, or mossy nook, When up she winds along the brook [4] To hunt the waterfalls.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

Though, by a sickly taste betrayed, Some will dispraise the lovely Maid, With fearless pride I say 1836.

The text of 1845 returns to that of 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1845.

That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong; 1807.

That she is healthful, ... 1836.]

[Variant 3: In the editions of 1807 to 1843 occurs the following verse, which was omitted from subsequent editions:

And she hath smiles to earth unknown; Smiles, that with motion of their own Do spread, and sink, and rise; That come and go with endless play, And ever, as they pass away, Are hidden in her eyes.]

[Variant 4:

1807.

When she goes barefoot up the brook MS.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Compare Young's 'Night Thoughts', where the phrase occurs three times. See also 'Lear', act IV. scene vi. l. 26:

'For all beneath the moon.'

Haywood, 'The English Traveller', v. 1:

'All things that dwell beneath the moon.'

It was also used by William Drummond, in one of his sonnets,

'I know that all beneath the moon decays.'

Ed.]

Wordsworth gave as the date of the composition of this poem the year 1805; but he said of the following one, 'To a Young Lady, who had been Reproached for taking Long Walks in the Country'--"composed at the same time" and "designed to make one piece"--that it was written in 1803.

But it is certain that these following lines appeared in 'The Morning Post', on Feb. 12, 1802, where they are headed 'To a beautiful Young Lady, who had been harshly spoken of on account of her fondness for taking long walks in the Country'. There is difficulty, both in ascertaining the exact date of composition, and in knowing who "Louisa" or the "Young Lady" was. Mrs. Millicent G. Fawcett wrote to me several years ago, suggesting, with some plausibility, a much earlier date, if Dorothy Wordsworth was the lady referred to. She referred me to Dorothy's letter to her aunt, Mrs. Crackenthorpe, written from Windybrow, Keswick, in 1794, when staying there with her brother; and says

"What inclined me to think that the poem was written earlier than 1805 was that it anticipates Dorothy's marriage, and this would more naturally be present as a probable event in W. W.'s mind in 1794 or thereabouts than in 1805, after Dorothy had dedicated her life to her brother, to the exclusion of all wish to make a home of her own by marriage. The expression 'Healthy as a shepherd boy' is also more applicable to a girl of twenty-two than to a woman of thirty-three. Do you think it possible that the poem may have been written in 1794, and not published till later, when its application would be less evident to the family circle?"

Dorothy Wordsworth's letter will be quoted in full in a later volume, but the following extract from it may be given now:

"I cannot pass unnoticed that part of your letter in which you speak of my 'rambling about the country on foot.' So far from considering this as a matter for condemnation I rather thought it would have given my friends pleasure that I had courage to make use of the strength with which Nature has endowed me, when it not only procured me infinitely more pleasure than I should have received from sitting in a post-chaise, but was also the means of saving me at least thirty shillings."

I do not think the date of composition can be so early as 1794. What may be called internal, or structural, evidence is against it. Wordsworth never could have written these two poems till after his settlement at Dove Cottage. Besides, in 1794, he could have no knowledge of a possible "nest in a green dale, a harbour and a hold"; while at that time his sister had certainly no "cottage home." I believe they were written after he took up his residence at Town-end (the date being uncertain); and that they refer to his sister, and not to his wife. It has been suggested by Mr. Ernest Coleridge (see 'The Athenæum', Oct. 21, 1893) that they refer to Mary Hutchinson: but there is no evidence of Wordsworth taking long country walks with her before their marriage, or that she was "nymph-like," "fleet and strong," that she loved to "roam the moorland," "in weather rough and bleak," or that she "hunted waterfalls." The reference to his sister is confirmed by the omission of the delightful second stanza of the poem in the last edition revised by the poet, that of 1849, when she was a confirmed invalid at Rydal Mount. Those "smiles to earth unknown," had then ceased for ever. The reason why Wordsworth erased so delightful and wonderful a stanza, is to me only explicable on the supposition, that it was his sister he referred to, she who had accompanied him in former days, in so many of his "long walks in the country." His wife never did this; she had not the physical strength to do it; and, if she had been the person referred to, Wordsworth would hardly, in 1845, have erased such a description of her, as occurs in the stanza written in 1802, when she was still so vigorous. Besides, Mary Wordsworth was in no sense "a Child of Nature," as Dorothy was: while the testimony of the Wordsworth household is explicit, that it was to his sister, and not to his wife, that the poet referred. I find no difficulty in the allusion made in the second poem to Dorothy being yet possibly a "Wife and Friend"; nor to the fact that it was originally addressed "To a beautiful Young Lady." Neither Dorothy nor Mary Wordsworth were physically "beautiful," according to our highest standards; although the poet addressed the latter as "a Phantom of delight," and as "a lovely apparition." It is quite true that it was Mary Wordsworth's old age that was "serene and bright," while Dorothy's was the very reverse; but the poet's anticipation of the future was written when his sister was young, and was by far the stronger of the two.--Ed.

* * * * *

TO A YOUNG LADY, WHO HAD BEEN REPROACHED FOR TAKING LONG WALKS IN THE COUNTRY [A]

Composed 1802.--Published 1807

[Composed at the same time and on the same view as "I met Louisa in the shade:" indeed they were designed to make one piece.--I.F.]

From 1815 to 1832 this was classed among the "Poems proceeding from Sentiment and Reflection." In 1836 it was transferred to the group of "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.

Dear Child of Nature, let them rail! --There is a nest in a green dale, A harbour and a hold; Where thou, a Wife and Friend, shalt see Thy own heart-stirring days, [1] and be 5 A light to young and old.

There, healthy as a shepherd boy, And treading among flowers of joy Which at no season fade, [2] Thou, while thy babes around thee cling, 10 Shalt show us how divine a thing A Woman may be made.

Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die, Nor leave thee, when grey hairs are nigh A melancholy slave; 15 But an old age serene [3] and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1836.

Thy own delightful days, ... 1802.]

[Variant 2:

1836.

As if thy heritage were joy, And pleasure were thy trade. 1802.

And treading among flowers of joy, That at no season fade, 1827.]

[Variant 3:

1815.

... alive ... 1802.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: For the original title of this poem,--as published in 'The Morning Post and Gazetteer',--see the note to the previous poem. When first published it was unsigned.--Ed.]

See the editorial note to the preceding poem.--Ed.

* * * * *

1803

The poems associated with the year 1803 consist mainly of the "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland," which Wordsworth and his sister took--along with Coleridge--in the autumn of that year, although many of these were not written till some time after the Tour was finished. 'The Green Linnet' and 'Yew-trees' were written in 1803, and some sonnets were composed in the month of October; but, on the whole, 1803 was not a fruitful year in Wordsworth's life, as regards his lyrics and smaller poems. Doubtless both 'The Prelude' and 'The Excursion' were revised in 1803.--Ed.

* * * * *

THE GREEN LINNET

Composed 1803.--Published 1807

[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere, where the bird was often seen as here described.--I.F.]

One of the "Poems of the Fancy."--Ed.

Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet 5 To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last year's friends together. [1]

One have I marked, the happiest guest In all this covert of the blest: 10 Hail to Thee, far above the rest In joy of voice and pinion! Thou, Linnet! in thy green array, Presiding Spirit here to-day, Dost lead the revels of the May; 15 And this is thy dominion.

While birds, and butterflies, and flowers, Make all one band of paramours, Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, Art sole in thy employment: 20 A Life, a Presence like the Air, Scattering thy gladness without care, Too blest with any one to pair; Thyself thy own enjoyment.

Amid [2] yon tuft of hazel trees, 25 That twinkle to the gusty breeze, Behold him perched in ecstacies, Yet seeming still to hover; There! where the flutter of his wings Upon his back and body flings 30 Shadows and sunny glimmerings, That cover him all over.

My dazzled sight he oft deceives, A Brother of the dancing leaves; Then flits, and from the cottage-eaves 35 Pours forth his song in gushes; [3] As if by that exulting strain He mocked and treated with disdain The voiceless Form he chose to feign, While fluttering in the bushes. [4] 40

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

The May is come again:--how sweet To sit upon my Orchard-seat! And Birds and Flowers once more to greet, My last year's Friends together: My thoughts they all by turns employ; A whispering Leaf is now my joy, And then a Bird will be the toy That doth my fancy tether. 1807.

And Flowers and Birds once more to greet, 1815.

The text of 1815 is otherwise identical with that of 1827.]

[Variant 2:

1845.

Upon ... 1807.]

[Variant 3:

1845.

While thus before my eyes he gleams, A Brother of the Leaves he seems; When in a moment forth he teems His little song in gushes: 1807.

My sight he dazzles, half deceives, A Bird so like the dancing Leaves; Then flits, and from the Cottage eaves Pours forth his song in gushes; 1827.

My dazzled sight the Bird deceives, A Brother of the dancing Leaves; 1832.

The Bird my dazzled sight deceives, 1840.

The Bird my dazzling sight deceives C.]

[Variant 4:

1827.

As if it pleas'd him to disdain And mock the Form which he did feign, While he was dancing with the train Of Leaves among the bushes. 1807.

The voiceless Form he chose to feign, 1820.]

Of all Wordsworth's poems this is the one most distinctively associated with the Orchard, at Town-end, Grasmere. Dorothy Wordsworth writes in her Journal under date May 28th, 1802:

"We sat in the orchard. The young bull-finches in their pretty coloured raiment, bustle about among the blossoms, and poise themselves like wire-dancers or tumblers, shaking the twigs and dashing off the blossoms."

Ed.

* * * * *

YEW-TREES

Composed 1803.--Published 1815

[Written at Grasmere. These Yew-trees are still standing, but the spread of that at Lorton is much diminished by mutilation. I will here mention that a little way up the hill, on the road leading from Rosthwaite to Stonethwaite (in Borrowdale) lay the trunk of a Yew-tree, which appeared as you approached, so vast was its diameter, like the entrance of a cave, and not a small one. Calculating upon what I have observed of the slow growth of this tree in rocky situations, and of its durability, I have often thought that the one I am describing must have been as old as the Christian era. The Tree lay in the line of a fence. Great masses of its ruins were strewn about, and some had been rolled down the hillside and lay near the road at the bottom. As you approached the tree, you were struck with the number of shrubs and young plants, ashes, etc., which had found a bed upon the decayed trunk and grew to no inconsiderable height, forming, as it were, a part of the hedgerow. In no part of England, or of Europe, have I ever seen a yew-tree at all approaching this in magnitude, as it must have stood. By the bye, Hutton, the old guide, of Keswick, had been so impressed with the remains of this tree, that he used gravely to tell strangers that there could be no doubt of its having been in existence before the flood.--I.F.]

One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.

There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore: Not loth to furnish weapons for the bands Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched 5 To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea And drew their sounding bows at Azincour, Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers. Of vast circumference and gloom profound This solitary Tree! a living thing 10 Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed. But worthier still of note Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; 15 Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved; Nor uninformed with Phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane;--a pillared shade, 20 Upon whose grassless floor of red-brown hue, By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged Perennially--beneath whose sable roof Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, decked With unrejoicing berries--ghostly Shapes 25 May meet at noontide; Fear and trembling Hope, Silence and Foresight; Death the Skeleton And Time the Shadow;--there to celebrate, As in a natural temple scattered o'er With altars undisturbed of mossy stone, 30 United worship; or in mute repose To lie, and listen to the mountain flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves.

The text of this poem was never altered. The Lorton Yew-tree--which, in 1803, was "of vast circumference," the "pride of Lorton Vale," and described as:

'a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed--'

does not now verify its poet's prediction of the future. Mr. Wilson Robinson of Whinfell Hall, Cockermouth, wrote to me of it in May 1880:

"The tree in outline expanded towards the root considerably: then, at about two feet from the ground, the trunk began to separate into huge limbs, spreading in all directions. I once measured this trunk at its least circumference, and found it 23 feet 10 inches. For the last 50 or 60 years the branches have been gradually dying on the S. E. side, and about 25 years ago a strong S. E. gale, coming with accumulated force down Hope Gill, and--owing to the tree being so open on that side--taking it laterally at a disadvantage, wrenched off one of the great side branches down to the ground, carrying away nearly a third of the tree. This event led to farther peril; for, the second portion having been sold to a cabinetmaker at Whitehaven for £15, this gave the impression that the wood was very valuable (owing to the celebrity of the tree); and a local woodmonger bought the remainder. Two men worked half a day to grub it up; but a Cockermouth medical gentleman, hearing what was going on, made representations to the owner, and it ended in the woodmen sparing the remainder of the tree, which was not much the worse for what had been done. Many large dead branches have also been cut off, and now we have to regret that the 'pride of Lorton Vale,' shorn of its ancient dignity, is but a ruin, much more venerable than picturesque."

The "fraternal Four of Borrowdale" are certainly "worthier still of note." The "trunk" described in the Fenwick note, as on the road between Rosthwaite and Stonethwaite, has disappeared long ago; but the "solemn and capacious grove" existed till 1883 in its integrity. The description in the poem is realistic throughout, while the visible scene suggests

"an ideal grove, in which the ghostly masters of mankind meet, and sleep, and offer worship to the Destiny that abides above them, while the mountain flood, as if from another world, makes music to which they dimly listen."

(Stopford A. Brooke, in 'Theology in the English Poets', p. 259.) With the first part of the poem Wordsworth's 'Sonnet composed at----Castle' during the Scotch Tour of 1803 may be compared (p. 410). For a critical estimate of the poem see 'Modern Painters', part III. sec. II, chap. iv. Ruskin alludes to "the real and high action of the imagination in Wordsworth's 'Yew-trees' (perhaps the most vigorous and solemn bit of forest landscape ever painted). It is too long to quote, but the reader should refer to it: let him note especially, if painter, that pure touch of colour, 'by sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged.'" See also Coleridge's criticism in 'Biographia Literaria', vol. ii. p. 177, edition 1847, and his daughter Sara's comment on her father's note. There can be little doubt that, as Professor Dowden has suggested, the lines 23 to 28 were suggested to Wordsworth by Virgil's lines in the Sixth Book of the 'Æneid', 273-284--

'Vestibulum ante ipsum primisque in faucibus Orci Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curæ; Pallentesque habitant Morbi, tristisque Senectus, Et Metus, et malesuada Fames, ac turpis Egestas, Terribiles visu formæ, Letumque, Labosque; Tum consanguineus Leti Sopor, et mala mentis Gaudia, mortiferumque adverso in limine Bellum, Ferreique Eumenidum thalami, et Discordia demens, Vipereum crinem vittis innexa cruentis. In medio ramos annosaque bracchia pandit Ulmus opaca, ingens, quam sedem Somnia volgo Vana tenere ferunt, foliisque sub omnibus hærent.'

"The 'Four Yew Trees,' and the mysterious company which you have assembled there, 'Death the Skeleton and Time the Shadow.' It is a sight not for every youthful poet to dream of; it is one of the last results he must have gone thinking for years for."

(Charles Lamb to Wordsworth, 1815.)

In Crabb Robinson's 'Diary', a reference to the Yew-trees of Lorton and Borrowdale will be found under date Sept. 16 and 20, 1816.

"The pride of Lorton Vale" is now a ruin, and has lost all its ancient majesty: but, until the close of 1883, the "fraternal four" of Borrowdale were still to be seen "in grand assemblage." Every one who has felt the power of Wordsworth's poetry,--and especially those who had visited the Seathwaite valley, and read the 'Yew-Trees' under the shade of that once "solemn and capacious grove" before 1884,--must have felt as if they had lost a personal friend, when they heard that the "grove" was gone. The great gale of December 11, 1883, smote it fiercely, uprooting one of the trees, and blowing the others to ribbands. The following is Mr. Rawnsley's account of the disaster:

'Last week the gale that ravaged England did the Lake country much harm. We could spare many of the larch plantations, and could hear (with a sigh) of the fall of the giant Scotch firs opposite the little Scafell Inn at Rosthwaite, and that Watendlath had lost its pines; but who could spare those ancient Yews, the great

"... fraternal Four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved."

'For beneath their pillared shade since Wordsworth wrote his poem, that Yew-tree grove has suggested to many a wanderer up Borrowdale, and visitant to the Natural Temple,

"an ideal grove in which the ghostly masters of mankind meet, and sleep, and offer worship to the Destiny that abides above them, while the mountain flood, as if from another world, makes music to which they dimly listen."

'These Yew-trees, seemingly

"Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed,"

'have been ruthlessly overthrown. One has been uprooted bodily; all the leaders and branches of the others have been wrenched from the main trunk; and the three still standing are bare poles and broken wreckage. Until one visits the spot one can have no conception of the wholesale destruction that the hurricane has wrought; until he looks on the huge rosy-hearted branches he cannot guess the tremendous force with which the tornado had fallen upon that "sable roof of boughs."

'For tornado or whirlwind it must needs have been. The Yews grew under the eastern flank of the hill called Base Brown. The gale raged from the westward. One could hardly believe it possible that the trees could have been touched by it; for the barrier hill on which they grew,--and under whose shelter they have seen centuries of storm,--goes straight upwards, betwixt them and the west. It was only realizable when, standing amid the wreckage, and looking across the valley, it was seen that a larch plantation had been entirely levelled, and evidently by a wind that was coming from the east, and directly toward the Yew-trees. On enquiring at Seathwaite Farm, one found that all the slates blown from the roof of that building on the west side, had been whirled up clean over the roof: and we can only surmise that the winds rushing from the west and north-west, and meeting the bastions of Glaramara and the Sty-head slopes, were whirled round in the 'cul-de-sac' of the valley, and moved with churning motion back from east to west over the Seathwaite Farm, and so in straight line across the beck, and up the slope to the Yew-tree cluster. With what a wrenching, and with what violence, these trees were in a moment shattered, only those can guess who now witness the ruins of the pillared shade, upon the "grassless floor of red-brown hue."'"

Ed.

* * * * *

"WHO FANCIED WHAT A PRETTY SIGHT"

Composed 1803.--Published 1807

In the edition of 1807 this poem was No. VIII. of the series entitled "Moods of my own Mind." It was afterwards included among the "Poems of the Fancy," and in a MS. copy it was named "The Coronet of Snowdrops."--Ed.

Who fancied what a pretty sight This Rock would be if edged around With living snow-drops? circlet bright! How glorious to this orchard-ground! Who loved the little Rock, and set 5 Upon its head this coronet?

Was it the humour of a child? Or rather of some gentle [1] maid, Whose brows, the day that she was styled The shepherd-queen, were thus arrayed? 10 Of man mature, or matron sage? Or old man toying with his age?

I asked--'twas whispered; The device To each and [2] all might well belong: It is the Spirit of Paradise 15 That prompts such work, a Spirit strong, That gives to all the self-same bent Where life is wise and innocent.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1836.

... love-sick ... 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1827.

... or ... 1807.]

* * * * *

"IT IS NO SPIRIT WHO FROM HEAVEN HATH FLOWN"

Composed 1803.--Published 1807

[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. I remember the instant my sister S. H., called me to the window of our Cottage, saying, "Look how beautiful is yon star! It has the sky all to itself." I composed the verses immediately.--I.F.]

This was No. XIII. of "Moods of my own Mind," in the edition of 1807. It was afterwards included among the "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.

It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown, And is descending on his embassy; Nor Traveller gone from earth the heavens to espy! 'Tis Hesperus--there he stands with glittering crown, First admonition that the sun is down! 5 For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by; A few are near him still--and now the sky, He hath it to himself--'tis all his own. O most ambitious Star! an inquest wrought Within me when I recognised thy light; 10 A moment I was startled at the sight: And, while I gazed, there came to me a thought That I might step beyond my natural race As thou seem'st now to do; might one day trace [1] Some ground not mine; and, strong her strength above, 15 My Soul, an Apparition in the place, Tread there with steps that no one shall reprove! [A]

* * * * *

VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: 1807.

O most ambitious Star! an inquest wrought Within me when I recognised thy light; A moment I was startled at the sight: And, while I gazed, there came to me a thought That even I beyond my natural race Might step as thou dost now: might one day trace 1815.

O most ambitious Star! thy Presence brought A startling recollection to my mind Of the distinguished few among mankind, Who dare to step beyond their natural race, As thou seem'st now to do:--nor was a thought Denied--that even I might one day trace 1820.

The text of 1836 returns to that of 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Professor Dowden directs attention to the relation between these lines and the poem beginning "If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven."--Ed.]

* * * * *

MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND

1803

These poems were first collected, under the above title, in the edition of 1827. In 1807, nine of them--viz. 'Rob Roy's Grave', 'The Solitary Reaper', 'Stepping Westward', 'Glen Almain, or, The Narrow Glen', 'The Matron of Jedborough and her Husband', 'To a Highland Girl', 'Sonnet', 'To the Sons of Burns after visiting the Grave of their Father', 'Yarrow Unvisited',--were printed under the title, "Poems written during a Tour in Scotland." This group begins the second volume of the edition of that year. But in 1815 and 1820--when Wordsworth began to arrange his poems in groups--they were distributed with the rest of the series in the several artificial sections. Although some were composed after the Tour was finished--and the order in which Wordsworth placed them is not the order of the Scotch Tour itself--it is advisable to keep to his own method of arrangement in dealing with this particular group, for the same reason that we retain it in such a series as the Duddon Sonnets.--Ed.

* * * * *

DEPARTURE FROM THE VALE OF GRASMERE. AUGUST, 1803 [A]

Composed 1811.--Published 1827

[Mr. Coleridge, my sister, and myself started together from Town-end to make a tour in Scotland. Poor Coleridge was at that time in bad spirits, and somewhat too much in love with his own dejection; and he departed from us, as is recorded in my Sister's Journal, soon after we left Loch Lomond. The verses that stand foremost among these Memorials were not actually written for the occasion, but transplanted from my 'Epistle to Sir George Beaumont'.--I. F.]

The gentlest Shade that walked Elysian plains Might sometimes covet dissoluble chains; Even for the tenants of the zone that lies Beyond the stars, celestial Paradise, Methinks 'twould heighten joy, to overleap 5 At will the crystal battlements, and peep Into some other region, though less fair, To see how things are made and managed there. Change for the worse might please, incursion bold Into the tracts of darkness and of cold; 10 O'er Limbo lake with aëry flight to steer, And on the verge of Chaos hang in fear. Such animation often do I find, Power in my breast, wings growing in my mind, Then, when some rock or hill is overpast, 15 Perchance without one look behind me cast, Some barrier with which Nature, from the birth Of things, has fenced this fairest spot on earth. O pleasant transit, Grasmere! to resign Such happy fields, abodes so calm as thine; 20 Not like an outcast with himself at strife; The slave of business, time, or care for life, But moved by choice; or, if constrained in part, Yet still with Nature's freedom at the heart;-- To cull contentment upon wildest shores, 25 And luxuries extract from bleakest moors; With prompt embrace all beauty to enfold, And having rights in all that we behold. --Then why these lingering steps?--A bright adieu, For a brief absence, proves that love is true; 30 Ne'er can the way be irksome or forlorn That winds into itself for sweet return.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: This first poem referring to the Scottish Tour of 1803, was not actually written till 1811. It originally formed the opening paragraph of the 'Epistle to Sir George Beaumont'. Wordsworth himself dated it 1804. It is every way desirable that it should introduce the series of poems referring to the Tour of 1803.--Ed.]

The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland':

"William and I parted from Mary on Sunday afternoon, August 14th, 1803; and William, Coleridge, and I left Keswick on Monday morning, the 15th."

Ed.

* * * * *

AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS, 1803. SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH

Composed 1803. [A]--Published 1842

[For illustration, see my Sister's Journal. It may be proper to add that the second of these pieces, though _felt_ at the time, was not composed till many years after.--I. F.]

I shiver, Spirit fierce and bold, At thought of what I now behold: As vapours breathed from dungeons cold Strike pleasure dead, So sadness comes from out [1] the mould 5 Where Burns is laid.

And have I then thy bones so near, And thou forbidden to appear? As if it were thyself that's here I shrink with pain; 10 And both my wishes and my fear Alike are vain. [2] Off weight--nor press on weight!--away Dark thoughts!--they came, but not to stay; With chastened feelings would I pay 15 The tribute due To him, and aught that hides his clay From mortal view.

Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth He sang, his genius "glinted" forth, [B] 20 Rose like a star that touching earth, For so it seems, Doth glorify its humble birth With matchless beams.

The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow, 25 The struggling heart, where be they now?-- Full soon the Aspirant of the plough, The prompt, the brave, Slept, with the obscurest, in the low And silent grave. 30

I mourned with thousands, but as one More deeply grieved, for He was gone Whose light I hailed when first it shone, And showed my youth [3] How Verse may build a princely throne 35 On humble truth.

Alas! where'er the current tends, Regret pursues and with it blends,-- Huge Criffel's hoary top ascends By Skiddaw seen,--40 Neighbours we were, and loving friends We might have been;

True friends though diversely inclined; But heart with heart and mind with mind, Where the main fibres are entwined, 45 Through Nature's skill, May even by contraries be joined More closely still.

The tear will start, and let it flow; Thou "poor Inhabitant below," [C] 50 At this dread moment--even so-- Might we together Have sate and talked where gowans blow, Or on wild heather.

What treasures would have then been placed 55 Within my reach; of knowledge graced By fancy what a rich repast! But why go on?-- Oh! spare to sweep, thou mournful blast, His grave grass-grown. 60

There, too, a Son, his joy and pride, (Not three weeks past the Stripling died,) Lies gathered to his Father's side, Soul-moving sight! Yet one to which is not denied 65 Some sad delight.

For _he_ is safe, a quiet bed Hath early found among the dead, Harboured where none can be misled, Wronged, or distrest; 70 And surely here it may be said That such are blest.

And oh for Thee, by pitying grace Checked oft-times in a devious race, May He who halloweth the place 75 Where Man is laid Receive thy Spirit in the embrace For which it prayed!

Sighing I turned away; but ere Night fell I heard, or seemed to hear, 80 Music that sorrow comes not near, A ritual hymn, Chanted in love that casts out fear By Seraphim. [D]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1842.

... out of ... MS.]

[Variant 2:

But wherefore tremble? 'tis no place Of pain and sorrow, but of grace, Of shelter, and of silent peace, And "friendly aid"; Grasped is he now in that embrace For which he prayed. [a] MS.]

[Variant 3:

1845.

Well might I mourn that He was gone Whose light I hailed when first it shone, When, breaking forth as nature's own, It showed my youth 1842.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: It is dated thus by Wordsworth himself on three occasions, and the year of its composition is also indicated in the title of the poem.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare Burns's poem 'To a Mountain Daisy', l. 15.--Ed.]

[Footnote C: See Burns's 'A Bard's Epitaph', l. 19.--Ed.]

[Footnote D: Compare 'The Tomb of Burns', by William Watson, 1895.--Ed.]

* * * * *

SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Sub-Footnote a: See in his poem the 'Ode to Ruin'.--Ed.]

The following is an extract from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal of the Tour in Scotland:

"Thursday, August 18th.--Went to the churchyard where Burns is buried. A bookseller accompanied us. He showed us the outside of Burns's house, where he had lived the last three years of his life, and where he died. It has a mean appearance, and is in a bye situation, whitewashed.... Went on to visit his grave. He lies at a corner of the churchyard, and his second son, Francis Wallace, beside him. There is no stone to mark the spot; but a hundred guineas have been collected, to be expended on some sort of monument.

'There,' said the bookseller, pointing to a pompous monument, 'there lies Mr. Such-a-one. I have forgotten his name. A remarkably clever man; he was an attorney, and hardly ever lost a cause he undertook. Burns made many a lampoon upon him, and there they rest, as you see.'

We looked at the grave with melancholy and painful reflections, repeating to each other his own verses.

'Is there a man whose judgment clear, Can others teach the way to steer, Yet runs himself life's mad career, Wild as the wave? Here let him pause, and through a tear Survey this grave.

The poor Inhabitant below Was quick to learn, and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame; But thoughtless follies laid him low And stained his name.'

"I cannot take leave of the country which we passed through to-day without mentioning that we saw the Cumberland Mountains, within half-a-mile of Ellisland, Burns's house, the last view we had of them. Drayton has prettily described the connection which this neighbourhood has with ours when he makes Skiddaw say:

'Seurfell [E] from the sky, That Anadale [F] doth crown, with a most amorous eye, Salutes me every day, or at my pride looks grim, Oft threatening me with clouds, as I oft threatening him!'

"These lines recurred to William's memory, and we talked of Burns, and of the prospect he must have had, perhaps from his own door, of Skiddaw and his companions, including ourselves in the fancy, that we _might_ have been personally known to each other, and he have looked upon those objects with more pleasure for our sakes."

Ed.

[Footnote E: Criffel.--Ed.]

[Footnote F: Annandale.--Ed.]

* * * * *

THOUGHTS SUGGESTED THE DAY FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS OF NITH, NEAR THE POET'S RESIDENCE

Composed 1803. [A]--Published 1842

Too frail to keep the lofty vow That must have followed when his brow Was wreathed--"The Vision" [B] tells us how-- With holly spray, He faultered, drifted to and fro, 5 And passed away.

Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng Our minds when, lingering all too long, Over the grave of Burns we hung In social grief--10 Indulged as if it were a wrong To seek relief.

But, leaving each unquiet theme Where gentlest judgments may misdeem, And prompt to welcome every gleam 15 Of good and fair, Let us beside this limpid Stream Breathe hopeful air.

Enough of sorrow, wreck, and blight; Think rather of those moments bright 20 When to the consciousness of right His course was true, When Wisdom prospered in his sight And virtue grew.

Yes, freely let our hearts expand, 25 Freely as in youth's season bland, When side by side, his Book in hand, We wont to stray, Our pleasure varying at command Of each sweet Lay. 30

How oft inspired must he have trod These pathways, yon far-stretching road! There lurks his home; in that Abode, With mirth elate, Or in his nobly-pensive mood, 35 The Rustic sate.

Proud thoughts that Image overawes, Before it humbly let us pause, And ask of Nature, from what cause And by what rules 40 She trained her Burns to win applause That shames the Schools.

Through busiest street and loneliest glen Are felt the flashes of his pen; He rules mid winter snows, and when 45 Bees fill their hives; Deep in the general heart of men His power survives.

What need of fields in some far clime Where Heroes, Sages, Bards sublime, 50 And all that fetched the flowing rhyme From genuine springs, Shall dwell together till old Time Folds up his wings?

Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven 55 This Minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven, Effaced for ever. 60

But why to Him confine the prayer, When kindred thoughts and yearnings bear On the frail heart the purest share With all that live?-- The best of what we do and are, 65 Just God, forgive!

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Though "suggested" on "the day following," these stanzas were not written then; but "many years after." They must, however, find a place in the "Memorials" of this 1803 Tour in Scotland.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Burns's poem, thus named.--Ed.]

See the note to the previous poem. The line

'These pathways, yon far-stretching road!'

refers probably to the road to Brownhill, past Ellisland farmhouse where Burns lived. "The day following" would be Aug. 19th, 1803. The extract which follows from the Journal is a further illustration of the poem. August 8th.

"... Travelled through the vale of Nith, here little like a vale, it is so broad, with irregular hills rising up on each side, in outline resembling the old-fashioned valances of a bed. There is a great deal of arable land; the corn ripe; trees here and there--plantations, clumps, coppices, a newness in everything. So much of the gorse and broom rooted out that you wonder why it is not all gone, and yet there seems to be almost as much gorse and broom as corn; and they grow one among another you know not how. Crossed the Nith; the vale becomes narrow, and very pleasant; cornfields, green hills, clay cottages; the river's bed rocky, with woody banks. Left the Nith about a mile and a half, and reached Brownhill, a lonely inn, where we slept. The view from the windows was pleasing, though some travellers might have been disposed to quarrel with it for its general nakedness; yet there was abundance of corn. It is an open country--open, yet all over hills. At a little distance were many cottages among trees, that looked very pretty. Brownhill is about seven or eight miles from Ellisland. I fancied to myself, while I was sitting in the parlour, that Burns might have caroused there, for most likely his rounds extended so far, and this thought gave a melancholy interest to the smoky walls...."

On Dec. 23, 1839, Wordsworth wrote to Professor Henry Reed, Philadelphia:

"The other day I chanced to be looking over a MS. poem belonging to the year 1803, though not actually composed till many years afterwards. It was suggested by visiting the neighbourhood of Dumfries, in which Burns had resided, and where he died: it concluded thus:

'Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven, etc.'

I instantly added, the other day,

'But why to Him confine the prayer, etc.'

The more I reflect upon this, the more I feel justified in attaching comparatively small importance to any literary monument that I may be enabled to leave behind. It is well however, I am convinced, that men think otherwise in the earlier part of their lives...."

It may be mentioned that in his note to the "Poems, chiefly of Early and Late Years," (1842), Wordsworth does not quote from the text of his sister's Journal,--which was first published in 1875,--but from some other copy of it.--Ed.

* * * * *

TO THE SONS OF BURNS, AFTER VISITING THE GRAVE OF THEIR FATHER [A]

Composed before 1807 [B]--Published 1807

The Poet's grave is in a corner of the church-yard. We looked at it with melancholy and painful reflections, repeating to each other his own verses:

'Is there a man whose judgment clear, etc.'

'Extract from the Journal of my Fellow-Traveller.'--W. W. 1827. [C]

One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection" in the 1815 and 1820 editions.--Ed.

'Mid crowded obelisks and urns I sought the untimely grave of Burns; Sons of the Bard, my heart still mourns With sorrow true; And more would grieve, but that it turns 5 Trembling to you!

Through twilight shades of good and ill Ye now are panting up life's hill, [1] And more than common strength and skill Must ye display; 10 If ye would give the better will Its lawful sway.

Hath Nature strung your nerves to bear Intemperance with less harm, beware! But if the Poet's wit ye share, 15 Like him can speed The social hour--of tenfold care [2] There will be need;

For honest men delight will take To spare your failings for his sake, 20 Will flatter you,--and fool and rake [3] Your steps pursue; And of your Father's name will make A snare for you.

Far from their noisy haunts retire, 25 And add your voices to the quire That sanctify the cottage fire With service meet; There seek the genius of your Sire, His spirit greet; 30

Or where,'mid "lonely heights and hows," [D] He paid to Nature tuneful vows; Or wiped his honourable brows Bedewed with toil, While reapers strove, or busy ploughs 35 Upturned the soil;

His judgment with benignant ray Shall guide, his fancy cheer, your way; But ne'er to a seductive lay Let faith be given; 40 Nor deem that "light which leads astray, Is light from Heaven." [E]

Let no mean hope your souls enslave; Be independent, generous, brave; Your Father such example gave, 45 And such revere; But be admonished by his grave, And think, and fear! [F]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

Ye now are panting up life's hill! 'Tis twilight time of good and ill, 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1840.

Strong bodied if ye be to bear Intemperance with less harm, beware! But if your Father's wit ye share, Then, then indeed, Ye Sons of Burns! for watchful care 1807.

... for tenfold care 1827.

The text of 1827 is otherwise identical with that of 1840.]

[Variant 3:

1840.

For honest men delight will take To shew you favor for his sake, Will flatter you; and Fool and Rake 1807.

For their beloved Poet's sake, Even honest men delight will take To flatter you; ... 1820.

Even honest Men delight will take To spare your failings for his sake, Will flatter you,--... 1827.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: In the edition of 1807, this poem has the title 'Address to the Sons of Burns after visiting their Father's Grave (August 14th, 1803)'. Slight changes were made in the title afterwards.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Dorothy Wordsworth wrote, in her 'Recollections' of this tour, under date August 18th, 1803,

"William wrote long afterwards the following Address to the sons of the ill-fated poet."

Ed.]

[Footnote C: This explanatory note appears in every edition of the Poems from 1827 to 1850. It is taken (but not literally) from the 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland' as published in 1875.--Ed.]

[Footnote D: From Burns's 'Epistle to James Smith', l. 53.--Ed.]

[Footnote E: From Burns's poem, 'The Vision', Duan Second.--Ed.]

[Footnote F: In the edition of 1807, the poem began with what is now the second stanza, and consisted of four stanzas only, viz. Nos. ii., iii., iv., and viii. Stanzas i., v., vi., and vii. were added in 1827. Stanza iii. was omitted in 1820, but restored in 1827.--Ed.]

In Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections' of this Tour we find, under date August 18, 1803:

"The grave of Burns's Son, which we had just seen by the side of his Father, and some stories heard at Dumfries respecting the dangers his surviving children were exposed to, filled us with melancholy concern, which had a kind of connection with ourselves."

"The body of Burns was not allowed to remain long in this place. To suit the plan of a rather showy mausoleum his remains were removed into a more commodious spot of the same kirkyard on the 5th July 1815."--(Allan Cunningham.)

'Ellen Irwin; or, the Braes of Kirtle', comes next in this series of "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803." It has already been printed, however, (p. 124), in its proper chronological place, among the poems belonging to the year 1800.--Ed.

* * * * *

TO A HIGHLAND GIRL

(AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND)

Composed 1803.--Published 1807

Classed in 1815 and 1820 as one of the "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.

[This delightful creature and her demeanour are particularly described in my Sister's Journal. The sort of prophecy with which the verses conclude has, through God's goodness, been realized; and now, approaching the close of my 73rd year, I have a most vivid remembrance of her and the beautiful objects with which she was surrounded. She is alluded to in the poem of 'The Three Cottage Girls' among my Continental Memorials. In illustration of this class of poems I have scarcely anything to say beyond what is anticipated in my Sister's faithful and admirable Journal.--I. F.]

Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower! Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head: And these grey rocks; that [1] household lawn; 5 Those trees, [A] a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water that doth make A murmur near the silent lake; This little bay; a quiet road That holds in shelter thy Abode--10 In truth together do ye seem [2] Like something fashioned in a dream; Such Forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep! But, O fair Creature! in the light 15 Of common day, so heavenly bright, [3] I bless Thee, Vision [4] as thou art, I bless thee with a human heart; God shield thee to thy latest years! Thee, neither know I, [5] nor thy peers; 20 And yet my eyes are filled with tears.

With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away: For never saw I mien, or face, In which more plainly I could trace 25 Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here scattered, like a random seed, Remote from men, Thou dost not need The embarrassed look of shy distress, 30 And maidenly shamefacedness: Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a Mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread! Soft smiles, [6] by human kindness bred! 35 And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach 40 Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life! So have I, not unmoved in mind, Seen birds of tempest-loving kind--45 Thus beating up against the wind.

What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful? O happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; 50 Adopt your homely ways and dress, A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess! But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: Thou art to me but as a wave 55 Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood. What joy to hear thee, and to see! Thy elder Brother I would be, 60 Thy Father--anything to thee! [B]

Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had; and going hence I bear away my recompence. 65 In spots like these it is we prize Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes: Then, why should I be loth to stir? I feel this place was made for her; To give new pleasure like the past, 70 Continued long as life shall last. Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart, Sweet Highland Girl! from thee to part; For I, methinks, till I grow old, As fair before me shall behold, 75 As I do now, the cabin small, The lake, the bay, the waterfall; And Thee, the Spirit of them all!

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

... this ... 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1827.

In truth together ye do seem 1807.

In truth, unfolding thus, ye seem 1837.

The text of 1845 returns to that of 1827.]

[Variant 3: The two preceding lines were added in 1845.]

[Variant 4:

1845.

Yet, dream and vision ... 1807.

... or vision ... 1837.]

[Variant 5:

1845.

I neither know thee ... 1807.]

[Variant 6:

1827.

Sweet looks, ... 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A:

"The distribution of 'these,' 'that,' and 'those' in these two lines, was attained in 1845, after various changes. "

(Edward Dowden.)]

[Footnote B: Compare Virgil's 'Eclogues', x. 35:

'Atque utinam ex vobis unus, etc.'

Ed.]

In her 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', 1803, Dorothy Wordsworth writes:

"Sunday, August 28th.--... After long waiting, the girls, who had been on the look-out, informed us that the boat was coming. I went to the waterside, and saw a cluster of people on the opposite shore; but, being yet at a distance, they looked more like soldiers surrounding a carriage than a group of men and women; red and green were the distinguishable colours. We hastened to get ourselves ready as soon as we saw the party approach, but had longer to wait than we expected, the lake being wider than it appears to be. As they drew near we could distinguish men in tartan plaids, women in scarlet cloaks, and green umbrellas by the half-dozen. The landing was as pretty a sight as ever I saw. The bay, which had been so quiet two days before, was all in motion with small waves, while the swollen waterfall roared in our ears. The boat came steadily up, being pressed almost to the water's edge by the weight of its cargo; perhaps twenty people landed, one after another. It did not rain much, but the women held up their umbrellas; they were dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, and with their scarlet cardinals, the tartan plaids of the men, and Scotch bonnets, made a gay appearance. There was a joyous bustle surrounding the boat, which even imparted something of the same character to the waterfall in its tumult, and the restless grey waves; the young men laughed and shouted, the lasses laughed, and the elder folks seemed to be in a bustle to be away. I remember well with what haste the mistress of the house where we were ran up to seek after her child, and seeing us, how anxiously and kindly she inquired how we had fared, if we had had a good fire, had been well waited upon, etc. All this in three minutes--for the boatman had another party to bring from the other side, and hurried us off.

"The hospitality we had met with at the two cottages and Mr. Macfarlane's gave us very favourable impressions on this our first entrance into the Highlands, and at this day the innocent merriment of the girls, with their kindness to us, and the beautiful face and figure of the elder, come to my mind whenever I think of the ferry-house and waterfall of Loch Lomond, and I never think of the two girls but the whole image of that romantic spot is before me, a living image as it will be to my dying day. The following poem was written by William not long after our return from Scotland."

Compare the poem called 'The Three Cottage Girls', in the "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent, 1820," published in 1822.--Ed.

* * * * *

GLEN-ALMAIN; OR, THE NARROW GLEN

Composed (possibly) in 1803.--Published 1807

Classed in 1815 and 1820 with the "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.

In this still place, remote from men, Sleeps Ossian, in the NARROW GLEN; In this still place, where murmurs on But one meek streamlet, only one: He sang of battles, and the breath 5 Of stormy war, and violent death; And should, methinks, when all was past, Have rightfully been laid at last Where rocks were rudely heaped, and rent As by a spirit turbulent; 10 Where sights were rough, and sounds were wild, And everything unreconciled; In some complaining, dim retreat, For fear and melancholy meet; But this is calm; there cannot be 15 A more entire tranquillity.

Does then the Bard sleep here indeed? Or is it but a groundless creed? What matters it?--I blame them not Whose Fancy in this lonely Spot 20 Was moved; and in such [1] way expressed Their notion of its perfect rest. A convent, even a hermit's cell, Would break the silence of this Dell: [A] It is not quiet, is not ease; 25 But something deeper far than these: The separation that is here Is of the grave; and of austere Yet [2] happy feelings of the dead: And, therefore, was it rightly said 30 That Ossian, last of all his race! Lies buried in this lonely place.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

... in this ... 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1827.

And ... 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Compare the poem 'To the Lady Fleming', stanza iii. ll. 28-9.--Ed.]

The glen is Glenalmond, in Perthshire, between Crieff and Amulree, known locally as "the Sma' Glen." I am not aware that it was ever called "Glen Almain," till Wordsworth gave it that singularly un-Scottish name. [B] It must have been a warm August day, after a tract of dry weather, when he went through it, or the Almond would scarcely have been called a "small streamlet." In many seasons of the year the distinctive features of the Glen would be more appropriately indicated by the words, which the poet uses by way of contrast with his own experience of it, viz. a place

'Where sights are rough, and sounds are wild, And everything unreconciled.'

But his characterization of the place--a glen, the charm of which is little known--in the stillness of an autumn afternoon, is as true to nature as any of his interpretations of the spirit of the hills and vales of Westmoreland. As yet there is no farm-house, scarcely even a sheiling, to "break the silence of this Dell."

The following is Dorothy Wordsworth's account of their walk through it on Friday, September 9th, 1803:

"Entered the glen at a small hamlet at some distance from the head, and, turning aside a few steps, ascended a hillock which commanded a view to the top of it--a very sweet scene, a green valley, not very narrow, with a few scattered trees and huts, almost invisible in a misty green of afternoon light. At this hamlet we crossed a bridge, and the road led us down the glen, which had become exceedingly narrow, and so continued to the end: the hills on both sides heathy and rocky, very steep, but continuous; the rock not single or overhanging, not scooped into caverns, or sounding with torrents; there are no trees, no houses, no traces of cultivation, not one outstanding object. It is truly a solitude, the road even making it appear still more so; the bottom of the valley is mostly smooth and level, the brook not noisy: everything is simple and undisturbed, and while we passed through it the whole place was shady, cool, clear, and solemn. At the end of the long valley we ascended a hill to a great height, and reached the top, when the sun, on the point of setting, shed a soft yellow light upon every eminence. The prospect was very extensive; over hollows and plains, no towns, and few houses visible--a prospect, extensive as it was, in harmony with the secluded dell, and fixing its own peculiar character of removedness from the world, and the secure possession of the quiet of nature more deeply in our minds. The following poem was written by William on hearing of a tradition relating to it, which we did not know when we were there."

Ed.

[Footnote B: In the Statistical Account of Scotland, however--drawn up by the parish ministers of the county, and edited by Sir John Sinclair--both the river and the glen are spelt Almon, by the Rev. Mr. Erskine, who wrote the account of Monzie Parish in Perthshire. This was in 1795. A recent authority states:

"'Glenamon,' in Ayrshire, and 'Glenalmond,' in Perthshire, are both from the corrupted spelling of the word 'Avon,' which derives from its being very nearly the pronunciation of the Gaelic word for 'a river.' These names are from 'Gleann-abhuinn,' that is,'the valley of the river.'"

(See the 'Gaelic Topography of Scotland', by James A. Robertson, Edinburgh, 1859.)--Ed.]

* * * * *

STEPPING WESTWARD

Composed between 1803 and 1805.--Published 1807

While my Fellow-traveller and I were walking by the side of Loch Ketterine, one fine evening after sun-set, in our road to a Hut where in the course of our Tour we had been hospitably entertained some weeks before, we met, in one of the loneliest parts of that solitary region, two well dressed Women, one of whom said to us, by way of greeting, "What, you are stepping westward?"--W. W. 1807.

Classed in 1815 and 1820 among the "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.

"_What, you are stepping westward?"--" Yea_." 'Twould be a _wildish_ [A] destiny, If we, who thus together roam In a strange Land, and far from home, Were in this place the guests of Chance: 5 Yet who would stop, or fear to advance, Though home or shelter he had none, With such a sky to lead him on?

The dewy ground was dark and cold; Behind, all gloomy to behold; 10 And stepping westward seemed to be A kind of _heavenly_ destiny: I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound Of something without place or bound; And seemed to give me spiritual right 15 To travel through that region bright.

The voice was soft, and she who spake Was walking by her native lake: The salutation had to me [1] The very sound of courtesy: 20 Its power was felt; and while my eye Was fixed upon the glowing Sky, The echo of the voice enwrought A human sweetness with the thought Of travelling through the world that lay 25 Before me in my endless way.

* * * * *

VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

... seemed to me

In MS. letter to Sir G. Beaumont. N. D.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Italics were first used in 1855.--Ed.]

The following is from the 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland':

"Sunday, Sept. 11th.--We have never had a more delightful walk than this evening. Ben Lomond and the three pointed-topped mountains of Loch Lomond, which we had seen from the garrison, were very majestic under the clear sky, the lake perfectly calm, the air sweet and mild. I felt that it was much more interesting to visit a place where we have been before than it can possibly be the first time, except under peculiar circumstances. The sun had been set for some time, when, being within a quarter of a mile of the ferry man's hut, our path having led us close to the shore of the calm lake, we met two neatly-dressed women, without hats, who had probably been taking their Sunday evening's walk. One of them said to us in a friendly, soft tone of voice, 'What, you are stepping westward?' I cannot describe how affecting this simple expression was in that remote place, with the western sky in front, yet glowing with the departed sun. William wrote the following poem long after, in remembrance of his feelings and mine."

Ed.

* * * * *

THE SOLITARY REAPER

Composed between 1803 and 1805.--Published 1807

One of the "Poems of the Imagination" in 1815 and 1820.--Ed.

Behold her, single [1] in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 5 And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands [2] 10 Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard [3] In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas [A] 15 Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?-- Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: 20 Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang [4] 25 As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending;-- I listened, motionless and still; [5] And, as [6] I mounted up the hill, 30 The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

... singing ...

MS.]

[Variant 2:

1827.

So sweetly to reposing bands 1807.]

[Variant 3:

1837.

No sweeter voice was ever heard 1807.

... sound ... MS.

Such thrilling voice was never heard 1827.]

[Variant 4:

1815.

... sung 1807.]

[Variant 5:

1820.

I listen'd till I had my fill: 1807.]

[Variant 6:

1807.

And when ... 1827.

The text of 1837 returns to that of 1807.]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Compare 'The Ancient Mariner'(part ii. stanza 6):

'And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea.'

Ed.]

The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections' of the Tour: 13th Sept. 1803.

"As we descended, the scene became more fertile, our way being pleasantly varied--through coppices or open fields, and passing farm-houses, though always with an intermixture of cultivated ground. It was harvest-time, and the fields were quietly--might I be allowed to say pensively?--enlivened by small companies of reapers. It is not uncommon in the more lonely parts of the Highlands to see a single person so employed. The following poem was suggested to William by a beautiful sentence in Thomas Wilkinson's 'Tour in Scotland.'"

In a note appended to the editions 1807 to 1820, Wordsworth wrote:

"This Poem was suggested by a beautiful sentence in a MS. 'Tour in Scotland,' written by a Friend, the last line being taken from it _verbatim_."

The first part of Wilkinson's 'Tours to the British Mountains', which was published in 1824, narrates his journey in Scotland (it took place in 1787); and the following sentence occurs in the record of his travels near Loch Lomond (p. 12),

"Passed a female who was reaping alone: she sung in Erse, as she bended over her sickle; the sweetest human voice I ever heard: her strains were tenderly melancholy, and felt delicious, long after they were heard no more."

There can be no doubt that this is the sentence referred to both by Dorothy and William Wordsworth. Thomas Wilkinson was the friend, in whose memory Wordsworth wrote the poem 'To the Spade of a Friend, composed while we were labouring together in his pleasure-ground'. They were comparatively near neighbours, as Wilkinson lived near Yanwath on the Emont; and he had given his MS. to the Wordsworth family to read. I have received some additional information about this MS., and Wordsworth's knowledge of it, from Mr. Wilson Robinson, who writes,

"From all the evidence, I conclude that Wilkinson's 'Tour to the Highlands' was shown in manuscript to his friends soon after his return;--that he was not only willing to show it, but even to allow it to be copied, though reluctant to publish it;--that there was sufficient intimacy between him and the Wordsworths to account for his showing or lending the manuscript to them, especially as they had travelled over much of the same ground, and would therefore be more interested in it; and that in fact it was never published till 1824."

When Wordsworth was living at Coleorton during the late autumn of 1806 he wrote to Wilkinson:

"... What shall I say in apology for your Journal, which is now locked up with my manuscripts at Grasmere. As I could not go over to your part of the country myself, my intention was to have taken it with me to Kendal ... to be carefully transmitted to you; unluckily, most unluckily, in the hurry of departure, I forgot it, together with two of my own manuscripts which were along with it; and I am afraid you will be standing in great need of it.... If you do not want it, it is in a place where it can take no injury, and I may have the pleasure of delivering it to you myself in the spring...."

Ed.

* * * * *

ADDRESS TO KILCHURN CASTLE

UPON LOCH AWE

Begun 1803.--Published 1827

"From the top of the hill a most impressive scene opened upon our view,--a ruined Castle on an Island (for an Island the flood had made it) [A] at some distance from the shore, backed by a Cove of the Mountain Cruachan, down which came a foaming stream. The Castle occupied every foot of the Island that was visible to us, appearing to rise out of the Water,--mists rested upon the mountain side, with spots of sunshine; there was a mild desolation in the low-grounds, a solemn grandeur in the mountains, and the Castle was wild, yet stately--not dismantled of Turrets--nor the walls broken down, though obviously a ruin."

'Extract from the Journal of my Companion.'--W. W. 1827.

[The first three lines were thrown off at the moment I first caught sight of the Ruin, from a small eminence by the wayside; the rest was added many years after.--I.F.]

Child of loud-throated War! the mountain Stream Roars in thy hearing; but thy hour of rest Is come, and thou art silent in thy age; Save when the wind sweeps by and sounds are caught Ambiguous, neither wholly thine nor theirs. 5 Oh! there is life that breathes not; Powers there are That touch each other to the quick in modes Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive, No soul to dream of. What art Thou, from care Cast off--abandoned by thy rugged Sire, 10 Nor by soft Peace adopted; though, in place And in dimension, such that thou might'st seem But a mere footstool to yon sovereign Lord, Huge Cruachan, (a thing that meaner hills Might crush, nor know that it had suffered harm;) 15 Yet he, not loth, in favour of thy claims To reverence, suspends his own; submitting All that the God of Nature hath conferred, All that he holds [1] in common with the stars, To the memorial majesty of Time 20 Impersonated in thy calm decay!

Take, then, thy seat, Vicegerent unreproved! Now, while a farewell gleam of evening light Is fondly lingering on thy shattered front, Do thou, in turn, be paramount; and rule 25 Over the pomp and beauty of a scene Whose mountains, torrents, lake, and woods, unite To pay thee homage; and with these are joined, In willing admiration and respect, Two Hearts, which in thy presence might be called 30 Youthful as Spring.--Shade of departed Power, Skeleton of unfleshed humanity, The chronicle were welcome that should call Into the compass of distinct regard The toils and struggles of thy infant years! [2] 35 Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice; Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye, Frozen by distance; so, majestic Pile, To the perception of this Age, appear Thy fierce beginnings, softened and subdued 40 And quieted in character--the strife, The pride, the fury uncontrollable, Lost on the aerial heights of the Crusades!" [B]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

... has ... 1827.]

[Variant 2:

1845.

... of thy infancy! 1827.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: The clause within brackets was added in 1837.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: The Tradition is, that the Castle was built by a Lady during the absence of her Lord in Palestine.--W. W. 1827.]

From the following passage in Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections' of their Tour, it will be seen that the poet altered the text considerably in making his quotation in 1827: August 31, 1803.

"When we had ascended half-way up the hill, directed by the man, I took a nearer foot-path, and at the top came in view of a most impressive scene, a ruined castle on an island almost in the middle of the last compartment of the lake, backed by a mountain cove, down which came a roaring stream. The castle occupied every foot of the island that was visible to us, appearing to rise out of the water; mists rested upon the mountain side, with spots of sunshine between; there was a mild desolation in the low grounds, a solemn grandeur in the mountains, and the castle was wild, yet stately, not dismantled of its turrets, nor the walls broken down, though completely in ruin. After having stood some minutes I joined William on the highroad, and both wishing to stay longer near this place, we requested the man to drive his little boy on to Dalmally, about two miles further, and leave the car at the inn. He told us the ruin was called Kilchurn Castle, that it belonged to Lord Breadalbane, and had been built by one of the ladies of that family for her defence, during her lord's absence at the Crusades; for which purpose she levied a tax of seven years' rent upon her tenants; he said that from that side of the lake it did not appear, in very dry weather, to stand upon an island, but that it was possible to go over to it without being wet-shod. We were very lucky in seeing it after a great flood; for its enchanting effect was chiefly owing to its situation in the lake, a decayed palace rising out of the plain of waters! I have called it a palace, for such feeling it gave me, though having been built as a place of defence, a castle or fortress. We turned again and reascended the hill, and sate a long time in the middle of it looking on the castle, and the huge mountain cove opposite, and William, addressing himself to the ruin, poured out these verses."

Compare Wordsworth's description of this ruin in his 'Guide through the District of the Lakes'.--Ed.

* * * * *

ROB ROY'S GRAVE

Composed between 1803 and 1805.--Published 1807

The History of Rob Roy is sufficiently known; his Grave is near the head of Loch Ketterine, in one of those small Pin-fold-like Burial-grounds, of neglected and desolate appearance, which the Traveller meets with in the Highlands of Scotland.--W. W. 1807.

[I have since been told that I was misinformed as to the burial-place of Rob Roy. If so, I may plead in excuse that I wrote on apparently good authority, namely, that of a well educated Lady who lived at the head of the Lake, within a mile or less of the point indicated as containing the remains of One so famous in the neighbourhood.--I. F.]

In the copy of 'Rob Roy's Grave', transcribed in Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections' of the Tour in Scotland of 1803, there are several important variations of text, which occur in none of the printed editions of the poem. These are indicated (to distinguish them from other readings) by the initials D. W.--Ed.

One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection" in 1815 and 1820.--Ed.

A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy! And Scotland has a thief as good, An outlaw of as daring mood;

She has her brave ROB ROY! [1] 5 Then clear the weeds from off his Grave, And let us chant a passing stave, In honour of that Hero [2] brave!

Heaven gave Rob Roy a dauntless [3] heart And wondrous length and strength of arm: [A] 10 Nor craved he more to quell his foes, Or keep his friends from harm.

Yet was Rob Roy as _wise_ as brave; Forgive me if the phrase be strong;-- A Poet worthy of Rob Roy 15 Must scorn a timid song.

Say, then, that he was wise as brave; As wise in thought as bold in deed: For in the principles of things _He_ sought his moral creed. [4] 20

Said generous Rob, "What need of books? Burn all the statutes and their shelves: They stir us up against our kind; And worse, against ourselves.

"We have a passion--make a law, 25 Too false to guide us or control! And for the law itself we fight In bitterness of soul.

"And, puzzled, blinded thus, we lose Distinctions that are plain and few: 30 These find I graven on my heart: _That_ tells me what to do.

"The creatures see of flood and field, And those that travel on the wind! With them no strife can last; they live 35 In peace, and peace of mind.

"For why?--because the good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, That they should take, who have the power, And they should keep who can. 40

"A lesson that [5] is quickly learned, A signal this which all can see! Thus nothing here provokes the strong To wanton [6] cruelty.

"All freakishness [7] of mind is checked; 45 He tamed, who foolishly aspires; While to the measure of his might [8] Each fashions his desires. [9]

"All kinds, and creatures, stand and fall By strength of prowess or of wit: 50 'Tis God's appointment who must sway, And who is to submit.

"Since, then, the rule of right is plain, [10] And longest life is but a day; To have my ends, maintain my rights, 55 I'll take the shortest way."

And thus among these rocks he lived, Through summer heat and winter snow: [11] The Eagle, he was lord above, And Rob was lord below. 60

So was it--_would_, at least, have been But through untowardness of fate; For Polity was then too strong-- He came an age too late;

Or shall we say an age too soon? 65 For, were the bold Man living _now_, How might he flourish in his pride, With buds on every bough!

Then rents and factors, rights of chase, Sheriffs, and lairds and their domains, [12] 70 Would all have seemed but paltry things, Not worth a moment's pains.

Rob Roy had never lingered here, To these few meagre Vales confined; But thought how wide the world, the times 75 How fairly to his mind!

And to his Sword he would have said, "Do Thou my sovereign will enact From land to land through half the earth! Judge thou of law and fact! 80

"'Tis fit that we should do our part, Becoming, that mankind should learn That we are not to be surpassed In fatherly concern.

"Of old things all are over old, 85 Of good things none are good enough:-- We'll show that we can help to frame A world of other stuff.

"I, too, will have my kings that take From me the sign of life and death: 90 Kingdoms shall shift about, like clouds, Obedient to my breath."

And, if the word had been fulfilled, As _might_ have been, then, thought of joy! France would have had her present Boast, 95 And we our own [13] Rob Roy!

Oh! say not so; compare them not; I would not wrong thee, Champion brave! Would wrong thee nowhere; least of all Here standing by thy grave. 100

For Thou, although with some wild thoughts Wild Chieftain of a savage Clan! Hadst this to boast of; thou didst love The _liberty_ of man.

And, had it been thy lot to live 105 With us who now behold the light, Thou would'st have nobly stirred thyself, And battled for the Right.

For thou wert still [14] the poor man's stay, The poor man's heart, the poor man's hand; 110 And all the oppressed, who wanted strength, Had thine at their command. [15]

Bear witness many a pensive sigh Of thoughtful Herdsman when he strays Alone upon Loch Veol's heights, 115 And by Loch Lomond's braes!

And, far and near, through vale and hill, Are faces that attest the same; The proud heart flashing through the eyes, [16] At sound of ROB ROY'S name. 120

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

And Scotland boasts of one as good, She has her own Rob Roy. 1803. D.W.]

[Variant 2:

1807.

... Outlaw ... 1803. D.W.]

[Variant 3:

1807.

... daring ... 1803. D.W.]

[Variant 4:

1807.

Stanzas 3 and 4 are thus combined by D.W., and also in a printed (not published) version, given in a copy of the 1807 edition.

Yet Robin was as wise as brave, As wise in thought as bold in deed, For in the principles of things He sought his moral creed.]

[Variant 5:

1827.

... which ... 1807.]

[Variant 6:

1807.

... tyrannous ... 1803. D. W.]

[Variant 7:

1807.

And freakishness ... 1803. D. W.]

[Variant 8:

1807.

... their ... MS.]

[Variant 9:

1807.

All fashion their desires. 1803. D. W.]

[Variant 10:

1815.

"Since then," said Robin, "right is plain, 1807.]

[Variant 11:

1827.

Through summer's heat and winter's snow: 1807.]

[Variant 12:

1807.

The Rents and Land-marks, Rights of Chase, Sheriffs and Factors, Lairds and Thanes, 1803. D. W.

Sheriffs and Factors, rights of chase, Their Lairds, and their domains, MS.]

[Variant 13:

1827.

... our brave ... 1807.]

[Variant 14:

1815.

For Robin was ... 1807.]

[Variant 15:

1815.

Had Robin's to command. 1807.]

[Variant 16:

1827.

Kindling with instantaneous joy 1803. D.W.

And kindle, like a fire new stirr'd, 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: The people of the neighbourhood of Loch Ketterine, in order to prove the extraordinary length of their Hero's arm, tell you that "he could garter his Tartan Stockings below the knee when standing upright." According to their account he was a tremendous Swordsman; after having sought all occasions of proving his prowess, he was never conquered but once, and this not till he was an Old Man.--W. W. 1807.]

In Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections' of the Scotch Tour the following occurs:

"August 27, 1803.--We mentioned Rob Roy, and the eyes of all glistened; even the lady of the house, who was very diffident, and no great talker, exclaimed, 'He was a good man, Rob Roy! he had been dead only about eighty years, had lived in the next farm, which belonged to him, and there his bones were laid.' He was a famous swordsman. Having an arm much longer than other men, he had a greater command with his sword. As a proof of the length of his arm, they told us that he could garter his tartan stockings below the knee without stooping, and added a dozen different stories of single combats, which he had fought, all in perfect good humour, merely to prove his prowess. I daresay they had stories of this kind which would hardly have been exhausted in the long evenings of a whole December week, Rob Roy being as famous here as even Robin Hood was in the forest of Sherwood; _he_ also robbed from the rich, giving to the poor, and defending them from oppression. They tell of his confining the factor of the Duke of Montrose in one of the islands of Loch Ketterine, after having taken his money from him--the Duke's rents--in open day, while they were sitting at table. He was a formidable enemy of the Duke, but being a small laird against a greater, was overcome at last, and forced to resign all his lands on the Braes of Loch Lomond, including the caves which we visited, on account of the money he had taken from the Duke and could not repay."

September 12:

"Descended into Glengyle, above Loch Ketterine, and passed through Mr. Macfarlane's grounds, that is, through the whole of the glen, where there was now no house left but his. We stopped at his door to inquire after the family, though with little hope of finding them at home, having seen a large company at work in a hay-field, whom we conjectured to be his whole household, as it proved, except a servant-maid who answered our enquiries. We had sent the ferryman forward from the head of the glen to bring the boat round from the place where he left it to the other side of the lake. Passed the same farm-house we had such good reason to remember, and went up to the burying-ground that stood so sweetly near the water-side. The ferryman had told us that Rob Roy's grave was there, so we could not pass on without going up to the spot. There were several tombstones, but the inscriptions were either worn-out or unintelligible to us, and the place choked up with nettles and brambles. You will remember the description I have given of the spot. I have nothing here to add, except the following poem which it suggested to William."

Rob Roy was buried at the Kirkton of Balquhidder, near the outlet of Loch Voil in Perthshire. There are three sculptured stones in the rude burial-place of the Macgregors, at the eastern end of the old church. The one with the long claymore marks the resting-place of Rob Roy's wife; the one opposite on the other side is the tomb of his eldest son; and the central stone, more elaborately carved, marks the grave of the hero himself.--Ed.

* * * * *

SONNET COMPOSED AT----CASTLE

Composed September 18, 1803.--Published 1807

[The castle here mentioned was Nidpath near Peebles. The person alluded to was the then Duke of Queensbury. The fact was told to me by Walter Scott.--I. F.]

In 1815 and 1820 this was one of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--Ed.

Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy Lord! Whom mere despite of heart could so far please, [1] And love of havoc, (for with such disease Fame taxes him,) that he could send forth word To level with the dust a noble horde, 5 A brotherhood of venerable Trees, Leaving an ancient dome, and towers like these, Beggared and outraged!--Many hearts deplored The fate of those old Trees; and oft with pain The traveller, at this day, will stop and gaze 10 On wrongs, which Nature scarcely seems to heed: For sheltered places, bosoms, nooks, and bays, And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed, And the green silent pastures, yet remain.

* * * * *

VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

Now as I live, I pity that great Lord, Whom pure despite ...

MS. letter to Sir Walter Scott. Oct. 1803.

Ill wishes shall attend the unworthy Lord MS.]

"Sunday, September 18th.--After breakfast walked up the river to Neidpath Castle, about a mile and a half from the town. The castle stands upon a green hill, over-looking the Tweed, a strong square-towered edifice, neglected and desolate, though not in ruin, the garden overgrown with grass, and the high walls that fenced it broken down. The Tweed winds between green steeps, upon which, and close to the river side, large flocks of sheep pasturing; higher still are the grey mountains; but I need not describe the scene, for William has done it better than I could do in a sonnet which he wrote the same day; the five last lines, at least, of his poem will impart to you more of the feeling of the place than it would be possible for me to do."

(Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland'.) Writing to Sir Walter Scott (October 16, 1803), Wordsworth enclosed a copy of this sonnet, with the variation of text which has been quoted. Lockhart tells us

"in that original shape Scott always recited it, and few lines in the language were more frequently in his mouth."

Compare Burns' 'Verses on the destruction of the Woods near Drumlanrig', which refer to the same subject.--Ed.

* * * * *

YARROW UNVISITED

Composed 1803.--Published 1807

See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon the Banks of the Yarrow; in particular, the exquisite Ballad of Hamilton, beginning:

"Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny Bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome Marrow!"

W. W. 1807.

One of the "Poems of the Imagination" in 1815 and 1820.--Ed.

From Stirling castle we had seen The mazy Forth unravelled; Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay, And with the Tweed had travelled; And when we came to Clovenford, 5 Then said my "_winsome Marrow_," "Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside, And see the Braes of Yarrow."

"Let Yarrow folk, _frae_ Selkirk town, Who have been buying, selling, 10 Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own; Each maiden to her dwelling! On Yarrow's banks let herons feed, Hares couch, and rabbits burrow! But we will downward [1] with the Tweed, 15 Nor turn aside to Yarrow.

"There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs, Both lying right before us; And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed The lintwhites sing in chorus; 20 There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land Made blithe with plough and harrow: Why throw away a needful day To go in search of Yarrow?

"What's Yarrow but a river bare, 25 That glides the dark hills under? There are a thousand such elsewhere As worthy of your wonder." --Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn; My True-love sighed for sorrow; 30 And looked me in the face, to think I thus could speak of Yarrow!

"Oh! green," said I, "are Yarrow's holms, And sweet is Yarrow flowing! Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, [A] 35 But we will leave it growing. O'er hilly path, and open Strath, We'll wander Scotland thorough; But, though so near, we will not turn Into the dale of Yarrow. 40

"Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow! [B] We will not see them; will not go, 45 To-day, nor yet to-morrow; Enough if in our hearts we know There's such a place as Yarrow.

"Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown! It must, or we shall rue it: 50 We have a vision of our own; Ah! why should we undo it? The treasured dreams of times long past, We'll keep them, winsome Marrow! For when we're there, although 'tis fair, 55 'Twill be another Yarrow.

"If Care with freezing years should come, And wandering seem but folly,-- Should we be loth to stir from home, And yet be melancholy; 60 Should life be dull, and spirits low, 'Twill soothe us in our sorrow, That earth has something yet to show, The bonny holms of Yarrow!"

* * * * *

VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1832.

... downwards ... 1807.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: See Hamilton's Ballad as above.--W. W. 1807.]

[Footnote B: In his "Recollections of Wordsworth," Aubrey de Vere reports a conversation, in which the poet said to him,

"Scott misquoted in one of his novels my lines on 'Yarrow', He makes me write,

'The swans on sweet St. Mary's Lake Float double, swans and shadow;'

but I wrote,

'The _swan_ on _still_ St. Mary's Lake.'

Never could I have written 'swans' in the plural. The scene when I saw it, with its still and dim lake, under the dusky hills, was one of utter loneliness: there was _one_ swan, and one only, stemming the water, and the pathetic loneliness of the region gave importance to the one companion of that swan, its own white image in the water. It was for that reason that I recorded the Swan and the Shadow. Had there been many swans and many shadows, they would have implied nothing as regards the character of the place; and I should have said nothing about them."

See his 'Essays, chiefly on Poetry', vol. ii. p. 277.

Wordsworth wrote to his friend, Walter Scott, to thank him for a copy of 'The Lay of the Last Minstrel', and in return sent a copy of these stanzas, 'Yarrow Unvisited'. Scott replied gratefully on the 16th March 1805, and said,

"... I by no means admit your apology, however ingeniously and artfully stated, for not visiting the bonny holms of Yarrow, and certainly will not rest till I have prevailed upon you to compare the ideal with the real stream."

Wordsworth had asked him if he could suggest any name more true to the place than Burnmill, in the line, "The sweets of Burn-mill meadow." Scott replied:

"We have Broad-meadow upon Yarrow, which with the addition of green or fair or any other epithet of one syllable, will give truth to the locality, and supply the place of Burnmill meadow, which we have not. ... I like your swan upon St. Mary's Lake. How came you to know that it is actually frequented by that superb bird?"

(See 'Familiar Letters of Sir Walter Scott', vol. i. pp. 28, 29.)--Ed.]

"September 18, 1803.--We left the Tweed when we were within about a mile and a half or two miles of Clovenford, where we were to lodge. Turned up the side of a hill, and went along sheep-grounds till we reached the spot--a single stone house, without a tree near it or to be seen from it. On our mentioning Mr. Scott's name, the woman of the house showed us all possible civility, but her slowness was really amusing. I should suppose it a house little frequented, for there is no appearance of an inn. Mr. Scott, who she told me was a very clever gentleman, 'goes there in the fishing season;' but indeed Mr. Scott is respected everywhere; I believe that by favour of his name one might be hospitably entertained throughout all the borders of Scotland. We dined and drank tea--did not walk out, for there was no temptation; a confined barren prospect from the window.

"At Clovenford, being so near to the Yarrow, we could not but think of the possibility of going thither, but came to the conclusion of reserving the pleasure for some future time, in consequence of which, after our return, William wrote the poem which I shall here transcribe."

(From Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', 1803.)--Ed.

* * * * *

THE MATRON OF JEDBOROUGH AND HER HUSBAND

Composed between 1803 and 1805.--Published 1807

At Jedborough we went into private Lodgings for a few days; and the following Verses were called forth by the character, and domestic situation, of our Hostess.--W. W. 1807.

One of the "Poems referring to the Period of Old Age" in 1815 and 1820.--Ed.

Age! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers, And call a train of laughing Hours; And bid them dance, and bid them sing; And thou, too, mingle in the ring! Take to thy heart a new delight; 5 If not, make merry in despite That [1] there is One who scorns thy power:-- But dance! for under Jedborough Tower, A Matron dwells who, though she bears The weight of more than seventy years, 10 Lives in the light of youthful glee, [2] And she will dance and sing with thee.

Nay! start not at that Figure--there! Him who is rooted to his chair! Look at him--look again! for he 15 Hath long been of thy family. With legs that move not, if they can, And useless arms, a trunk of man, He sits, and with a vacant eye; A sight to make a stranger sigh! 20 Deaf, drooping, that is now his doom: His world is in this single room: Is this a place for mirthful cheer? [3] Can merry-making enter here? [A]

The joyous Woman is the Mate 25 Of him in that forlorn estate! He breathes a subterraneous damp; But bright as Vesper shines her lamp: He is as mute as Jedborough Tower: She jocund as it was of yore, 30 With all its bravery on; in times When all alive with merry chimes, Upon a sun-bright morn of May, It roused the Vale to holiday.

I praise thee, Matron! and thy due 35 Is praise, heroic praise, and true! With admiration I behold Thy gladness unsubdued and bold: Thy looks, thy gestures, all present The picture of a life well spent: 40 This do I see; and something more; A strength unthought of heretofore! Delighted am I for thy sake; And yet a higher joy partake: Our Human-nature throws away 45 Its second twilight, and looks gay; A land of promise and of pride Unfolding, wide as life is wide.

Ah! see her helpless Charge! enclosed Within himself as seems, composed; 50 To fear of loss, and hope of gain, The strife of happiness and pain, Utterly dead! yet in the guise Of little infants, when their eyes Begin to follow to and fro 55 The persons that before them go, He tracks her motions, quick or slow. Her buoyant spirit can prevail Where common cheerfulness would fail; She strikes upon him with the heat 60 Of July suns; he feels it sweet; An animal delight though dim! 'Tis all that now remains for him!

The more I looked, I wondered more-- And, while I scanned them o'er and o'er, [4] 65 Some inward trouble suddenly Broke from the Matron's strong black eye--[5] A remnant of uneasy light, A flash of something over-bright![B] Nor long this mystery did detain 70 My thoughts;--she told in pensive strain [6] That she had borne a heavy yoke, Been stricken by a twofold stroke; Ill health of body; and had pined Beneath worse ailments of the mind. 75

So be it!--but let praise ascend To Him who is our lord and friend! Who from disease and suffering [7] Hath called for thee a second spring; Repaid thee for that sore distress 80 By no untimely joyousness; Which makes of thine a blissful state; And cheers thy melancholy Mate!

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

For ... 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1837.

... under Jedborough Tower There liveth in the prime of glee, A Woman, whose years are seventy-three, And She ... 1807.

There lives a woman of seventy-three, And she will dance and sing with thee, MS.

A Matron dwells, who though she bears Our mortal complement of years, Lives in the light of youthful glee, 1827.]

[Variant 3:

1827.

... for mirth and cheer? 1807.]

[Variant 4:

1827.

I look'd, I scann'd her o'er and o'er; The more I look'd I wonder'd more: 1807.]

[Variant 5:

1837.

When suddenly I seem'd to espy A trouble in her strong black eye; 1807.

A moment gave me to espy A trouble . . . 1827.]

[Variant 6:

1827.

And soon she made this matter plain; And told me, in a thoughtful strain, 1807.]

[Variant 7:

As bad almost as Life can bring, Added in MS.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Compare Tennyson's 'Deserted House', stanza iv.:

'Come away: no more of mirth Is here, or merry-making sound.'

Ed.]

[Footnote B: Compare stanza xiii. of 'Resolution and Independence', p. 318.--Ed.]

Sept. 20, 1803.

"We were received with hearty welcome by a good woman, who, though above seventy years old, moved about as briskly as if she was only seventeen. Those parts of the house which we were to occupy were neat and clean; she showed me every corner, and, before I had been ten minutes in the house, opened her very drawers that I might see what a stock of linen she had; then asked how long we should stay, and said she wished we were come for three months. She was a most remarkable person; the alacrity with which she ran up-stairs when we rung the bell, and guessed at, and strove to prevent, our wants was surprising; she had a quick eye, and keen strong features, and a joyousness in her motions, like what used to be in old Molly when she was particularly elated. I found afterwards that she had been subject to fits of dejection and ill-health: we then conjectured that her overflowing gaiety and strength might in part be attributed to the same cause as her former dejection. Her husband was deaf and infirm, and sate in a chair with scarcely the power to move a limb--an affecting contrast! The old woman said they had been a very hard-working pair; they had wrought like slaves at their trade--her husband had been a currier; and she told me how they had portioned off their daughters with money, and each a feather bed, and that in their old age they had laid out the little they could spare in building and furnishing that house, and she added with pride that she had lived in her youth in the family of Lady Egerton, who was no high lady, and now was in the habit of coming to her house whenever she was at Jedburgh, and a hundred other things; for when she once began with Lady Egerton, she did not know how to stop, nor did I wish it, for she was very entertaining. Mr. Scott sat with us an hour or two, and repeated a part of the 'Lay of the Last Minstrel'. When he was gone our hostess came to see if we wanted anything, and to wish us good-night. On all occasions her manners were governed by the same spirit: there was no withdrawing one's attention from her. We were so much interested that William, long afterwards, thought it worth while to express in verse the sensations which she had excited, and which then remained as vividly in his mind as at the moment when we lost sight of Jedburgh."

(From Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', 1803.)--Ed.

* * * * *

"FLY, SOME KIND HARBINGER, TO GRASMERE-DALE" [A]

Composed September 25, 1803.--Published 1815

[This was actually composed the last day of our tour between Dalston and Grasmere.--I.F.]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets" in 1815 and 1820.--Ed.

Fly, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale! [1] Say that we come, and come by this day's light; Fly upon swiftest wing round field and height, [2] But chiefly let one Cottage hear the tale; There let a mystery of joy prevail, 5 The kitten frolic, like a gamesome sprite, [3] And Rover whine, as at a second sight Of near-approaching good that shall not fail: And from that Infant's face let joy appear; Yea, let our Mary's one companion child--10 That hath her six weeks' solitude beguiled With intimations manifold and dear, While we have wandered over wood and wild-- Smile on his Mother now with bolder cheer.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

Fly, some kind Spirit, fly to Grasmere Vale! 1815.

... dale, 1827.]

[Variant 2:

1837.

Glad tidings!--spread them over field and height; 1815.]

[Variant 3:

1837.

The Kitten frolic with unruly might, 1815.

The happy Kitten bound with frolic might, 1827.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: In the editions of 1815 and 1820, this poem bore the title, 'On approaching Home, after a Tour in Scotland, 1803',--Ed.]

"Sunday, September 25, 1803.--A beautiful autumnal day. Breakfasted at a public-house by the road-side; dined at Threlkeld; arrived at home between eight and nine o'clock, where we found Mary in perfect health, Joanna Hutchinson with her, and little John asleep in the clothes-basket by the fire."

(From Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', 1803.)--Ed.

* * * * *

THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY

A TALE TOLD BY THE FIRE-SIDE, AFTER RETURNING TO THE VALE OF GRASMERE[A]

Date of composition uncertain.--Published 1807

[The story was told me by George Mackereth, for many years parish-clerk of Grasmere. He had been an eye-witness of the occurrence. The vessel in reality was a washing-tub, which the little fellow had met with on the shores of the Loch.--I.F.]

One of the "Poems referring to the Period of Childhood" in 1815 and 1820.--Ed.

Now we are tired of boisterous joy, Have [1] romped enough, my little Boy! Jane hangs her head upon my breast, And you shall bring your stool and rest; This corner is your own. 5

There! take your seat, and let me see That [2] you can listen quietly: And, as I promised, I will tell [3] That strange adventure which befel A poor blind Highland Boy. 10

A _Highland_ Boy!--why call him so? Because, my Darlings, ye must know That, under hills which rise like towers, [4] Far higher hills than these of ours! He from his birth had lived. 15

He ne'er had seen one earthly sight The sun, the day; the stars, the night; Or tree, or butterfly, or flower, Or fish in stream, or bird in bower, Or woman, man, or child. 20

And yet he neither drooped nor pined, Nor had a melancholy mind; For God took pity on the Boy, And was his friend; and gave him joy Of which we nothing know. 25

His Mother, too, no doubt, above Her other children him did love: For, was she here, or was she there, She thought of him with constant care, And more than mother's love. 30

And proud she was of heart, when clad In crimson stockings, tartan plaid, And bonnet with a feather gay, To Kirk he on the sabbath day Went hand in hand with her. 35

A dog too, had he; not for need, But one to play with and to feed; Which would [5] have led him, if bereft Of company or friends, and left Without a better guide. 40

And then the bagpipes he could blow-- And thus from house to house would go; And all were pleased to hear and see, For none made sweeter melody Than did the poor blind Boy. 45

Yet he had many a restless dream; Both when he heard the eagles scream, And when he heard the torrents roar, And heard the water beat the shore Near which their cottage stood. 50

Beside a lake their cottage stood, Not small like ours, a peaceful flood; But one of mighty size, and strange; That, rough or smooth, is full of change, And stirring in its bed. 55

For to this lake, by night and day, The great Sea-water finds its way Through long, long windings of the hills And drinks up all the pretty [B] rills And rivers large and strong: [C] 60

Then hurries back the road it came-- Returns, on errand still the same; This did it when the earth was new; And this for evermore will do, As long as earth shall last. 65

And, with the coming of the tide, Come boats and ships that safely [6] ride Between the woods and lofty rocks; And to the shepherds with their flocks Bring tales of distant lands. 70

And of those tales, whate'er they were, The blind Boy always had his share; Whether of mighty towns, or vales With warmer suns and softer gales, Or wonders of the Deep. 75

Yet more it pleased him, more it stirred, When from the water-side he heard The shouting, and the jolly cheers; The bustle of the mariners In stillness or in storm. 80

But what do his desires avail? For He must never handle sail; Nor mount the mast, nor row, nor float In sailor's ship, or fisher's boat, Upon the rocking waves. 85

His Mother often thought, and said, What sin would be upon her head If she should suffer this: "My Son, Whate'er you do, leave this undone; The danger is so great." 90

Thus lived he by Loch-Leven's side Still sounding with the sounding tide, And heard the billows leap and dance, Without a shadow of mischance, Till he was ten years old. 95

When one day (and now mark me well, Ye [7] soon shall know how this befell) He in a vessel of his own, On the swift flood is hurrying down, Down to the mighty Sea. [8] 100

In such a vessel never more May human creature leave the Shore! [9] If this or that way he should stir, Woe to the poor blind Mariner! For death will be his doom. 105 [10] But say what bears him?--Ye have seen The Indian's bow, his arrows keen, Rare beasts, and birds with plumage bright; Gifts which, for wonder or delight, Are brought in ships from far. [11] 110

[D] Such gifts had those seafaring men Spread round that haven in the glen; Each hut, perchance, might have its own; And to the Boy they all were known-- He knew and prized them all. 115

The rarest was a Turtle-shell Which he, poor Child, had studied well; A shell of ample size, and light As the pearly car of Amphitrite, That sportive dolphins drew. [12] 120

And, as a Coracle that braves On Vaga's breast the fretful waves, This shell upon the deep would swim, And gaily lift its fearless brim Above the tossing surge. [13] 125

And this the little blind Boy knew: And he a story strange yet true Had heard, how in a shell like this An English Boy, O thought of bliss! Had stoutly launched from shore; 130

Launched from the margin of a bay Among the Indian isles, where lay His father's ship, and had sailed far-- To join that gallant ship of war, In his delightful shell. 135

Our Highland Boy oft visited 'The house that [14] held this prize; and, led By choice or chance, did thither come One day when no one was at home, And found the door unbarred. 140

While there he sate, alone and blind, That story flashed upon his mind;-- A bold thought roused him, and he took The shell from out its secret nook, And bore it on his head. [15] 145

He launched his vessel,--and in pride Of spirit, from Loch-Leven's side, Stepped into it--his thoughts all free As the light breezes that with glee Sang through the adventurer's hair. [16] 150

A while he stood upon his feet; He felt the motion--took his seat; Still better pleased as more and more The tide retreated from the shore, And sucked, and sucked him in. [17] 155

And there he is in face of Heaven. How rapidly the Child is driven! The fourth part of a mile, I ween, He thus had gone, ere he was seen By any human eye. 160

But when he was first seen, oh me What shrieking and what misery! For many saw; among the rest His Mother, she who loved him best, She saw her poor blind Boy. 165

But for the child, the sightless Boy, It is the triumph of his joy! The bravest traveller in balloon, Mounting as if to reach the moon, Was never half so blessed. 170

And let him, let him go his way, Alone, and innocent, and gay! For, if good Angels love to wait On the forlorn unfortunate, This Child will take no harm. 175

But now the passionate lament, Which from the crowd on shore was sent, The cries which broke from old and young In Gaelic, or the English tongue, Are stifled--all is still. 180

And quickly with a silent crew A boat is ready to pursue; And from the shore their course they take, And swiftly down the running lake They follow the blind Boy. 185

But soon they move with softer pace; So have ye seen the fowler chase On Grasmere's clear unruffled breast A youngling of the wild-duck's nest With deftly-lifted oar; 190

Or as the wily sailors crept To seize (while on the Deep it slept) The hapless creature which did dwell Erewhile within the dancing shell, They steal upon their prey. [18] 195

With sound the least that can be made, They follow, more and more afraid, More cautious as they draw more near; But in his darkness he can hear, And guesses their intent. 200

"_Lei-gha--Lei-gha_"--he then cried out, "_Lei-gha--Lei-gha_"--with eager shout; [19] Thus did he cry, and thus did pray, And what he meant was, "Keep away, And leave me to myself!" [E] 205

Alas! and when he felt their hands-- You've often heard [20] of magic wands, That with a motion overthrow A palace of the proudest show, Or melt it into air: 210

So all his dreams--that inward light With which his soul had shone so bright-- All vanished;--'twas a heartfelt cross To him, a heavy, bitter loss, As he had ever known. 215

But hark! a gratulating voice, With which the very hills rejoice: 'Tis from the crowd, who tremblingly Have [21] watched the event, and now can see That he is safe at last. 220

And then, when he was brought to land, Full sure they were a happy band, Which, gathering round, did on the banks Of that great Water give God thanks, And welcomed the poor Child. 225

And in the general joy of heart The blind Boy's little dog took part; He leapt about, and oft did kiss His master's hands in sign of bliss, With sound like lamentation. 230

But most of all, his Mother dear, She who had fainted with her fear, Rejoiced when waking she espies The Child; when she can trust her eyes, And touches the blind Boy. 235

She led him home, and wept amain, When he was in the house again: Tears flowed in torrents from her eyes; She kissed him--how could she chastise? [22] She was too happy far. 240

Thus, after he had fondly braved The perilous Deep, the Boy was saved; And, though his fancies had been wild, Yet he was pleased and reconciled To live in peace on shore. 245

And in the lonely Highland dell Still do they keep the Turtle-shell; And long the story will repeat Of the blind Boy's adventurous feat, And how he was preserved. [23] 250

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

We've ... 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1807.

How ... MS.]

[Variant 3:

1807.

Aye, willingly, and what is more One which you never heard before, True story this which I shall tell MS.]

[Variant 4:

1837.

In land where many a mountain towers, 1807.]

[Variant 5:

1807.

... could ... MS.]

[Variant 6:

1827.

... sweetly ... 1807.]

[Variant 7:

1815.

You ... 1807.]

[Variant 8:

1837.

He's in a vessel of his own, On the swift water hurrying down Towards the mighty Sea. 1807.

He in a vessel of his own, On the swift flood is hurrying down 1827.

Towards the great, great Sea. MS.]

[Variant 9:

1815.

... ne'er before Did human Creature ... 1807.]

[Variant 10: The following stanza was only in the edition of 1807:

Strong is the current; but be mild, Ye waves, and spare the helpless Child! If ye in anger fret or chafe, A Bee-hive would be ship as safe As that in which he sails.]

[Variant 11:

1815.

But say, what was it? Thought of fear! Well may ye tremble when ye hear! --A Household Tub, like one of those, Which women use to wash their clothes, This carried the blind Boy. 1807.]

[Variant 12:

1820.

And one, the rarest, was a Shell Which he, poor Child, had studied well; The Shell of a green Turtle, thin And hollow;--you might sit therein. It was so wide and deep. 1815.]

[Variant 13:

1820.

'Twas even the largest of its kind, Large, thin, and light as birch-tree rind; So light a Shell that it would swim, And gaily lift its fearless brim Above the tossing waves. 1815.]

[Variant 14:

1837.

... which ... 1815.]

[Variant 15:

1827.

... in his arms. 1815.]

[Variant 16:

1827.

Close to the water he had found This Vessel, push'd it from dry ground, Went into it; and, without dread, Following the fancies in his head, He paddled up and down. 1807.

And with the happy burthen hied, And pushed it from Loch Levin's side,-- Stepped into it; and, without dread, 1815.]

[Variant 17:

1827.

And dallied thus, till from the shore The tide retreating more and more Had suck'd, and suck'd him in. 1807.]

[Variant 18: The two previous stanzas were added in the edition of 1815.]

[Variant 19:

1837.

... then did he cry ... most eagerly; 1807.]

[Variant 20:

1807.

... read ... MS.]

[Variant 21:

1837.

Had ... 1807.]

[Variant 22:

1832.

She could not blame him, or chastise; 1807.]

[Variant 23: This stanza was added in the edition of 1815.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: The title in the editions of 1807 to 1820 was 'The Blind Highland Boy. (A Tale told by the Fireside.)'

This poem gave its title to a separate division in the second volume of the edition of 1807, viz. "The Blind Highland Boy; with other Poems."--Ed.]

[Footnote B: This reading occurs in all the editions. But Wordsworth, whose MS. was not specially clear, may have written, or meant to write "petty," (a much better word), and not perceived the mistake when revising the sheets. If he really wrote "petty," he may have meant either small rills (rillets), or used the word as Shakespeare used it, for "pelting" rills.--Ed.]

[Footnote C: Compare Tennyson's 'In Memoriam', stanza xix.:

'There twice a day the Severn fills; The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills, etc.'

Ed.]

[Footnote D: This and the following six stanzas were added in 1815.--Ed.]

[Footnote E: Writing to Walter Scott, from Coleorton, on Jan. 20, 1807, Wordsworth sent him this stanza of the poem, and asked

"Could you furnish me, by application to any of your Gaelic friends, a phrase in that language which could take its place in the following verse of eight syllables, and have the following meaning."

He adds,

"The above is part of a little poem which I have written on a Highland story told me by an eye-witness ..."

This is the nearest clue we have to the date of the composition of the poem.--Ed.]

It is recorded in Dampier's Voyages that a Boy, the Son of a Captain of a Man of War, seated himself in a Turtle-shell and floated in it from the shore to his Father's Ship, which lay at anchor at the distance of half a mile. Upon the suggestion of a Friend, I have substituted such a Shell for that less elegant vessel in which my blind voyager did actually intrust himself to the dangerous current of Loch Levin, as was related to me by an Eye-witness.--W. W. 1815.

This note varies slightly in later editions.

The Loch Leven referred to is a sea-loch in Argyllshire, into which the tidal water flows with some force from Loch Linnhe at Ballachulish.

'By night and day The great Sea-water finds its way Through long, long windings of the hills.'

The friend referred to in the note of 1815, who urged Wordsworth to give his blind voyager a Shell, instead of a washing-tub to sail in, was Coleridge. The original tale of the tub was not more unfortunate than the lines in praise of Wilkinson's spade, and several of Wordsworth's friends, notably Charles Lamb and Barren Field, objected to the change. Lamb wrote to Wordsworth in 1815,

"I am afraid lest that substitution of a shell (a flat falsification of the history) for the household implement, as it stood at first, was a kind of tub thrown out to the beast" [_i. e._ the reviewer!] "or rather thrown out for him. The tub was a good honest tub in its place, and nothing could fairly be said against it. You say you made the alteration for the 'friendly reader,' but the 'malicious' will take it to himself."

('The Letters of Charles Lamb', edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. i. p. 283.) Wordsworth could not be induced to "undo his work," and go back to his own original; although he evidently agreed with what Lamb had said (as is seen in a letter to Barren Field, Oct. 24, 1828).--Ed.

* * * * *

OCTOBER, 1803

Composed October 1803.--Published 1807

Included among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; renamed in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

One might believe that natural miseries Had blasted France, and made of it a land Unfit for men; and that in one great band Her sons were bursting forth, to dwell at ease. But 'tis a chosen soil, where sun and breeze 5 Shed gentle favours: rural works are there, And ordinary business without care; Spot rich in all things that can soothe and please! How piteous then that there should be such dearth Of knowledge; that whole myriads should unite 10 To work against themselves such fell despite: Should come in phrensy and in drunken mirth, Impatient to put out the only light Of Liberty that yet remains on earth!

* * * * *

"THERE IS A BONDAGE WORSE, FAR WORSE, TO BEAR"

Composed possibly in 1803.--Published 1807

Included among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; renamed in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear [1] Than his who breathes, by roof, and floor, and wall, Pent in, a Tyrant's solitary Thrall: 'Tis his who walks about in the open air, One of a Nation who, henceforth, must wear 5 Their fetters in their souls. For who could be, Who, even the best, in such condition, free From self-reproach, reproach that [2] he must share With Human-nature? Never be it ours To see the sun how brightly it will shine, 10 And know that noble feelings, manly powers, Instead of gathering strength, must droop and pine; And earth with all her pleasant fruits and flowers Fade, and participate in man's decline.

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VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

... which is worse to bear 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1837.

... which ... 1807.]

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OCTOBER, 1803 (#2)

Composed October 1803.--Published 1807

This was one of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; afterwards called, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

These times strike [1] monied worldlings with dismay: Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air With words of apprehension and despair: While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray, Men unto whom sufficient for the day 5 And minds not stinted or unfilled are given, Sound, healthy, children of the God of heaven, Are cheerful as the rising sun in May. What do we gather hence but firmer faith That every gift of noble origin 10 Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath; That virtue and the faculties within Are vital,--and that riches are akin To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?

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VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

... touch ... 1807.]

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"ENGLAND! THE TIME IS COME WHEN THOU SHOULD'ST WEAN"

Composed possibly in 1803.--Published 1807

This was one of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; afterwards called, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

England! the time is come when thou should'st wean Thy heart from its emasculating food; The truth should now be better understood; Old things have been unsettled; we have seen Fair seed-time, better harvest might have been 5 But for thy trespasses; and, at this day, If for Greece, Egypt, India, Africa, Aught good were destined, thou would'st step between. England! all nations in this charge agree: But worse, more ignorant in love and hate, 10 Far--far more abject, is thine Enemy: Therefore the wise pray for thee, though the freight Of thy offences be a heavy weight: Oh grief that Earth's best hopes rest all with Thee!

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OCTOBER, 1803 (#3)

Composed October 1803.--Published 1807

Included among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; afterwards called, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

When, looking on the present face of things, I see one man, of men the meanest too! Raised up to sway the world, to do, undo, With mighty Nations for his underlings, The great events with which old story rings 5 Seem vain and hollow; I find nothing great: Nothing is left which I can venerate; So that a doubt almost [1] within me springs Of Providence, such emptiness at length Seems at the heart of all things. But, great God! 10 I measure back the steps which I have trod; And tremble, seeing whence proceeds the strength [2] Of such poor Instruments, with thoughts sublime I tremble at the sorrow of the time.

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VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1845.

... almost a doubt ... 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1827.

... seeing, as I do, the strength 1807.]

The reference is, of course, to Napoleon.--Ed.

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TO THE MEN OF KENT. OCTOBER, 1803

Composed October 1803.--Published 1807

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

Vanguard of Liberty, ye men of Kent, [A] Ye children of a Soil that doth advance Her [1] haughty brow against the coast of France, Now is the time to prove your hardiment! To France be words of invitation sent! 5 They from their fields can see the countenance Of your fierce war, may ken the glittering lance And hear you shouting forth your brave intent. Left single, in bold parley, ye, of yore, Did from the Norman win a gallant wreath; 10 Confirmed the charters that were yours before;-- No parleying now! In Britain is one breath; We all are with you now from shore to shore:-- Ye men of Kent, 'tis victory or death!

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VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

It's ... 1807.

It's haughty forehead 'gainst ... MS.]

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FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Compare Michael Drayton's 'Barons' Wars', book i.:

'Then those of Kent, unconquered of the rest, That to this day maintain their ancient right.'

Ed.]

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IN THE PASS OF KILLICRANKY,

An invasion being expected, October 1803

Composed October 1803.--Published 1807

From 1807 to 1820 this sonnet was one of those "dedicated to Liberty." In 1827 it was included among the "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803." From 1807 to 1820 the title was simply October, 1803.--Ed.

Six thousand veterans practised in war's game, Tried men, at Killicranky were arrayed Against an equal host that wore the plaid, Shepherds and herdsmen.--Like a whirlwind came The Highlanders, the slaughter spread like flame; 5 And Garry, thundering down his mountain-road, Was stopped, and could not breathe beneath the load Of the dead bodies.--'Twas a day of shame For them whom precept and the pedantry Of cold mechanic battle do enslave. 10 O for a single hour of that Dundee, [A] Who on that day the word of onset gave! Like conquest would the Men of England see; And her Foes find a like inglorious grave.

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FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: See an anecdote related in Mr. Scott's Border Minstrelsy. --W. W. 1807.

"Oh for an hour of Dundee" was an exclamation of Gordon of Glenbucket at Sheriffmuir.--Ed.]

The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', 1803:

"Thursday, September 8th.--Before breakfast we walked to the Pass of Killicrankie. A very fine scene; the river Garry forcing its way down a deep chasm between rocks, at the foot of high rugged hills covered with wood, to a great height. The pass did not, however, impress us with awe, or a sensation of difficulty or danger, according to our expectations; but, the road being at a considerable height on the side of the hill, we at first only looked into the dell or chasm. It is much grander seen from below, near the river's bed. Everybody knows that this Pass is famous in military history. When we were travelling in Scotland, an invasion was hourly looked for, and one could not but think with some regret of the times when, from the now depopulated Highlands forty or fifty thousand men might have been poured down for the defence of the country, under such leaders as the Marquis of Montrose or the brave man who had so distinguished himself upon the ground where we were standing. I will transcribe a sonnet suggested to William by this place, and written in Oct. 1803."

Ed.

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ANTICIPATION. OCTOBER, 1803

Composed October 1803.--Published 1807 [A]

Included among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

Shout, for a mighty Victory is won! On British ground the Invaders are laid low; The breath of Heaven has drifted them like snow, And left them lying in the silent sun, Never to rise again!--the work is done. 5 Come forth, ye old men, now in peaceful show And greet your sons! drums beat and trumpets blow! Make merry, wives! ye little children, stun Your grandame's ears with pleasure of your noise! [1] Clap, infants, clap your hands! Divine must be 10 That triumph, when the very worst, the pain, And even the prospect of our brethren slain, [2] Hath something in it which the heart enjoys:-- In glory will they sleep and endless sanctity. [3]

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VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

... with transports of your own. C.

... with transport of your noise! 1838.

The edition of 1840 returns to the text of 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1807.

The loss and e'en the prospect of the slain, MS. 1803.

And in 'The Poetical Register', 1803.

And prospect of our Brethren to be slain, MS. 1803.]

[Variant 3:

1807.

True glory, everlasting sanctity. MS. 1803.

And in 'The Poetical Register', 1803.]

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FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: _i. e._ in the edition of 1807, but this sonnet was previously printed in 1803 in 'The Poetical Register', vol. iii. p. 340, in the 'Anti-Gallican' (1804), and in the 'Poetical Repository' (1805).--Ed.]

This sonnet, as the title indicates, does not refer to an actual victory; because, since the Norman conquest, no "Invaders" have ever set foot "on British ground." It was written--like the two preceding sonnets, and the one that follows it--"in anticipation" of Napoleon's project for the invasion of England being actually carried out; a project never realised. The assembling of the immense French army destined for this purpose--one of the finest brought together since the days of the Roman legions--between the mouths of the Seine and the Texel, roused the spirit of English patriotism as it had never been roused before. Three hundred thousand volunteers were enlisted in Great Britain by the 10th of August 1803;

"all the male population of the kingdom from seventeen years of age to fifty-five were divided into classes to be successively armed and exercised" (Dyer).

The story of the failure of Napoleon's scheme is too well known to be repeated in this note. Wordsworth seems to have written his sonnet in anticipation of what he believed would have been the inevitable issue of events, had the French army actually landed on British soil.--Ed.

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LINES ON THE EXPECTED INVASION

1803

Composed 1803.--Published 1842

Included among the "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

Come ye--who, if (which Heaven avert!) the Land Were with herself at strife, would take your stand, Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch's side, And, like Montrose, make Loyalty your pride-- Come ye--who, not less zealous, might display 5 Banners at enmity with regal sway, And, like the Pyms and Miltons of that day, Think that a State would live in sounder health If Kingship bowed its head to Commonwealth-- Ye too--whom no discreditable fear 10 Would keep, perhaps with many a fruitless tear, Uncertain what to choose and how to steer-- And ye--who might mistake for sober sense And wise reserve the plea of indolence-- Come ye--whate'er your creed--O waken all, 15 Whate'er your temper, at your Country's call; Resolving (this a free-born Nation can) To have one Soul, and perish to a man, Or save this honoured Land from every Lord But British reason and the British sword. 20

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END OF VOLUME II (OF EIGHT)