Part 7

[This Niche is in the sandstone-rock in the winter-garden at Coleorton, which garden, as has been elsewhere said, was made under our direction out of an old unsightly quarry. While the labourers were at work, Mrs. Wordsworth, my sister and I used to amuse ourselves occasionally in scooping this seat out of the soft stone. It is of the size, with something of the appearance, of a stall in a Cathedral. This inscription is not engraven, as the former and the two following are, in the grounds.--I. F.]

Classed by Wordsworth among his "Inscriptions."--ED.

Oft is the medal faithful to its trust When temples, columns, towers, are laid in dust; And 'tis a common ordinance of fate That things obscure and small outlive the great: Hence, when yon mansion and the flowery trim 5 Of this fair garden, and its alleys dim, And all its stately trees, are passed away, This little Niche, unconscious of decay, Perchance may still survive. And be it known That it was scooped within[1] the living stone,-- 10 Not by the sluggish and ungrateful pains Of labourer plodding for his daily gains, But by an industry that wrought in love; With help from female hands, that proudly strove[2] To aid the work, what time these walks and bowers 15 Were shaped to cheer dark winter's lonely hours.[3]

This niche is still to be seen, although not quite "unconscious of decay." The growth of yew-trees, over and around it, has darkened the seat; and constant damp has decayed the soft stone. The niche having been scooped out by Mrs. Wordsworth and Dorothy, as well as by Wordsworth, suggests the cutting of the inscriptions on the Rock of Names in 1800, in which they all took part. (See vol. iii. pp. 61, 62.) On his return to Grasmere from Coleorton, Wordsworth wrote thus to Sir George Beaumont, in an undated letter, about this inscription:--"What follows I composed yesterday morning, thinking there might be no impropriety in placing it so as to be visible only to a person sitting within the niche, which is hollowed out of the sandstone in the winter-garden. I am told that this is, in the present form of the niche, impossible; but I shall be most ready, when I come to Coleorton, to scoop out a place for it, if Lady Beaumont think it worth while." Then follows the--

INSCRIPTION.

Oft is the medal faithful to its trust.

On Nov. 16, 1811, writing again to Sir George on this subject of the "Inscriptions," and evidently referring to this one on the "Niche," he says, "As to the 'Female,' and 'Male,' I know not how to get rid of it; for that circumstance gives the recess an appropriate interest.... On this account, the lines had better be suppressed, for it is not improbable that the altering of them might cost me more trouble than writing a hundred fresh ones."--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1815.

That it was fashioned in ... MS.

[2] 1815.

But by prompt hands of Pleasure and of Love, Female and Male; that emulously strove MS.

[3] 1827.

To shape the work, what time these walks and bowers Were framed to cheer dark winter's lonely hours. 1815.

... bleak ... MS.

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT, BART., AND IN HIS NAME, FOR AN URN, PLACED BY HIM AT THE TERMINATION OF A NEWLY-PLANTED AVENUE, IN THE SAME GROUNDS

Composed 1808.--Published 1815

One of the "Inscriptions."--ED.

Ye Lime-trees, ranged before this hallowed Urn, Shoot forth with lively power at Spring's return; And be not slow a stately growth to rear Of pillars, branching off from year to year, Till they have learned to frame a darksome aisle;-- 5 That may recal to mind that awful Pile[1] Where Reynolds, 'mid our country's noblest dead, In the last sanctity of fame is laid. --There, though by right the excelling Painter sleep Where Death and Glory a joint sabbath keep, 10 Yet not the less his Spirit would hold dear Self-hidden praise, and Friendship's private tear: Hence, on my patrimonial grounds, have I Raised this frail tribute to his memory; From youth a zealous follower of the Art[2] 15 That he professed; attached to him in heart; Admiring, loving, and with grief and pride Feeling what England lost when Reynolds died.

These Lime-trees now form "a stately growth of pillars," "a darksome aisle"; and the urn remains, as set up in 1807, at the end of the avenue.

The "awful Pile," where Reynolds lies, and where--

... Death and Glory a joint sabbath keep,

is, of course, Westminster Abbey.

After Wordsworth's return from Coleorton and Stockton to Grasmere, he wrote thus to Sir George Beaumont:--

"MY DEAR SIR GEORGE,

"Had there been room at the end of the small avenue of lime-trees for planting a spacious circle of the same trees, the Urn might have been placed in the centre, with the inscription thus altered,

"Ye lime-trees ranged around this hallowed urn, Shoot forth with lively power at spring's return! And be not slow a stately growth to rear, Bending your docile boughs from year to year, Till in a solemn concave they unite; Like that Cathedral Dome beneath whose height Reynolds, among our country's noble Dead, In the last sanctity of fame is laid. Here may some Painter sit in future days. Some future poet meditate his lays! Not mindless of that distant age, renowned, When inspiration hovered o'er this ground, The haunt of him who sang, how spear and shield In civil conflict met on Bosworth field, And of that famous youth (full soon removed From earth!) by mighty Shakespeare's self approved, Fletcher's associate, Jonson's friend beloved.

"The first couplet of the above, as it before stood, would have appeared ludicrous, if the stone had remained after the trees might have been gone. The couplet relating to the household virtues did not accord with the painter and the poet; the former being allegorical figures; the latter, living men."

This letter--which is not now in the Beaumont collection at Coleorton Hall--seems to imply that Wordsworth thought of combining the first couplet on the Urn with the last nine lines of the inscription for the stone behind the Cedar tree. But this was never carried out. The inscriptions are printed in the text as they were carved at Coleorton.--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1820.

Till ye have framed, at length, a darksome aisle, Like a recess within that sacred pile

MS. letter to Sir George Beaumont, 1811.

Till they at length have framed a darksome Aisle;-- Like a recess within that awful Pile 1815.

[2] 1815.

Hence, an obscure Memorial, without blame, In these domestic Grounds, may bear his name; Unblamed this votive Urn may oft renew Some mild sensations to his Genius due From One--a humble Follower of the Art

Five lines instead of three in MS. letter to Sir George Beaumont, 16th November, 1811.

FOR A SEAT IN THE GROVES OF COLEORTON

Composed November 19, 1811.--Published 1815

One of the "Inscriptions."--ED.

Beneath yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound, Rugged and high, of Charnwood's forest ground, Stand yet, but, Stranger! hidden from thy view The ivied Ruins of forlorn GRACE DIEU; Erst a religious House, which[1] day and night 5 With hymns resounded, and the chanted rite: And when those rites had ceased, the Spot gave birth To honourable Men of various worth:[2] There, on the margin of a streamlet wild, Did Francis Beaumont sport, an eager child; 10 There, under shadow of the neighbouring rocks, Sang youthful tales of shepherds and their flocks; Unconscious prelude to heroic themes, Heart-breaking tears, and melancholy dreams Of slighted love, and scorn, and jealous rage, 15 With which his genius shook[3] the buskined stage. Communities are lost, and Empires die, And things of holy use unhallowed lie;[A] They perish;--but the Intellect can raise,[4] From airy words alone, a Pile that ne'er decays. 20

Charnwood forest, in Leicestershire, is an almost treeless wold of between fifteen and sixteen thousand acres. The

eastern ridge, the craggy bound, Rugged and high,

refers probably to High Cadmon. The nunnery of Grace Dieu was a religious house, in a retired spot near the centre of the forest; and was built between 1236 and 1242. The English monasteries were suppressed in 1536; but Grace Dieu, with thirty others of the smaller monasteries, was allowed to continue some time longer. It was finally suppressed in 1539, when the site of the priory, with the demesne lands, was granted to Sir Humphrey Foster, who conveyed the whole to John Beaumont. Francis Beaumont, the dramatic poet, was born at Grace Dieu in 1586. He died in 1615, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

"William and I went to Grace Dieu last week. We were enchanted with the little valley and its nooks, and the rocks of Charnwood upon the hill."--Dorothy Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont, November 17, 1806.

This "Inscription" was composed at Grasmere, November 19, 1811, as the following extract from a letter of Wordsworth's to Lady Beaumont indicates:--"Grasmere, Wednesday, November 20, 1811.--My Dear Lady Beaumont--When you see this you will think I mean to overrun you with inscriptions. I do not mean to tax you with putting them up, only with reading them. The following I composed yesterday morning in a walk from Brathay, whither I had been to accompany my sister:--

FOR A SEAT IN THE GROVES OF COLEORTON.

Beneath yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound.

The thought of writing this inscription occurred to me many years ago."--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1820.

... that ... 1815.

[2] 1815.

But, when the formal Mass had long been stilled, And wise and mighty changes were fulfilled; That Ground gave birth to men of various Parts For Knightly Services and liberal Arts.

MS. letter to Lady Beaumont, 20th November, 1811.

[3] 1815.

With which his skill inspired ... MS.

[4] 1815.

But Truth and Intellectual Power can raise,

MS. letter to Lady Beaumont, 20th November, 1811.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] In the editions of 1815 and 1820, Wordsworth appended the following line from Daniel, as a note to the third last line of this "Inscription"--

Strait all that holy was unhallowed lies.

DANIEL. ED.

SONG AT THE FEAST OF BROUGHAM CASTLE,

UPON THE RESTORATION OF LORD CLIFFORD, THE SHEPHERD, TO THE ESTATES AND HONOURS OF HIS ANCESTORS

Composed 1807.--Published 1807

[See the note. This poem was composed at Coleorton while I was walking to and fro along the path that led from Sir George Beaumont's Farmhouse, where we resided, to the Hall, which was building at that time.--I. F.]

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

High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate, And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.-- The words of ancient time I thus translate, A festal strain that hath been silent long:--

"From town to town, from tower to tower, 5 The red rose is a gladsome flower. Her thirty years of winter past, The red rose is revived at last; She lifts her head for endless spring, For everlasting blossoming:[A] 10 Both roses flourish, red and white: In love and sisterly delight The two that were at strife are blended, And all old troubles[1] now are ended.-- Joy! joy to both! but most to her 15 Who is the flower of Lancaster! Behold her how She smiles to-day On this great throng, this bright array! Fair greeting doth she send to all From every corner of the hall; 20 But chiefly from above the board Where sits in state our rightful Lord, A Clifford to his own restored!

"They came with banner, spear, and shield; And it was proved in Bosworth-field. 25 Not long the Avenger was withstood-- Earth helped him with the cry of blood:[B] St George was for us, and the might Of blessed Angels crowned the right. Loud voice the Land has[2] uttered forth, 30 We loudest in the faithful north: Our fields rejoice, our mountains ring, Our streams proclaim a welcoming; Our strong-abodes and castles see The glory of their loyalty.[3] 35

"How glad is Skipton at this hour-- Though lonely, a deserted Tower;[4] Knight, squire, and yeoman, page and groom:[5] We have them at the feast of Brough'm. How glad Pendragon--though the sleep 40 Of years be on her!--She shall reap A taste of this great pleasure, viewing As in a dream her own renewing. Rejoiced is Brough, right glad I deem Beside her little humble stream; 45 And she that keepeth watch and ward Her statelier Eden's course to guard; They both are happy at this hour, Though each is but a lonely Tower:-- But here is perfect joy and pride 50 For one fair House by Emont's side, This day, distinguished without peer To see her Master and to cheer-- Him, and his Lady-mother dear!

"Oh! it was a time forlorn 55 When the fatherless was born-- Give her wings that she may fly, Or she sees her infant die! Swords that are with slaughter wild Hunt the Mother and the Child. 60 Who will take them from the light? --Yonder is a man in sight-- Yonder is a house--but where? No, they must not enter there. To the caves, and to the brooks, 65 To the clouds of heaven she looks; She is speechless, but her eyes Pray in ghostly agonies. Blissful Mary, Mother mild, Maid and Mother undefiled, 70 Save a Mother and her Child!

"Now Who is he that bounds with joy On Carrock's side, a Shepherd-boy? No thoughts hath he but thoughts that pass Light as the wind along the grass. 75 Can this be He who hither came In secret, like a smothered flame? O'er whom such thankful tears were shed For shelter, and a poor man's bread! God loves the Child; and God hath willed 80 That those dear words should be fulfilled, The Lady's words, when forced away The last she to her Babe did say: 'My own, my own, thy Fellow-guest I may not be; but rest thee, rest, 85 For lowly shepherd's life is best!'

"Alas! when evil men are strong No life is good, no pleasure long. The Boy must part from Mosedale's groves, And leave Blencathara's rugged coves,[C] 90 And quit the flowers that summer brings[D] To Glenderamakin's lofty springs; Must vanish, and his careless cheer Be turned to heaviness and fear. --Give Sir Lancelot Threlkeld praise! 95 Hear it, good man, old in days! Thou tree of covert and of rest For this young Bird that is distrest; Among thy branches safe he lay, And he was free to sport and play, 100 When falcons were abroad for prey.

"A recreant harp, that sings of fear And heaviness in Clifford's ear! I said, when evil men are strong, No life is good, no pleasure long, 105 A weak and cowardly untruth! Our Clifford was a happy Youth, And thankful through a weary time, That brought him up to manhood's prime. --Again he wanders forth at will, 110 And tends a flock from hill to hill:[6] His garb is humble; ne'er was seen Such garb with such a noble mien; Among the shepherd grooms no mate Hath he, a Child of strength and state! 115 Yet lacks not friends for simple[7] glee, Nor yet for higher sympathy.[8] To his side the fallow-deer Came, and rested without fear; The eagle, lord of land and sea, 120 Stooped down to pay him fealty;[E] And both the undying fish that swim Through Bowscale-tarn did wait on him;[F] The pair were servants of his eye In their immortality; 125 And glancing, gleaming, dark or bright, Moved to and fro, for his delight.[9] He knew the rocks which Angels haunt Upon[10] the mountains visitant; He hath kenned[11] them taking wing: 130 And into caves[12] where Faeries sing He hath entered; and been told By Voices how men lived of old. Among the heavens his eye can see The face of thing[13] that is to be; 135 And, if that men report him right, His tongue could whisper words of might.[14] --Now another day is come, Fitter hope, and nobler doom; He hath thrown aside his crook, 140 And hath buried deep his book; Armour rusting in his halls On the blood of Clifford calls;--[G] 'Quell the Scot,' exclaims the Lance-- Bear me to the heart of France, 145 Is the longing of the Shield-- Tell thy name, thou trembling Field; Field of death, where'er thou be, Groan thou with our victory! Happy day, and mighty hour, 150 When our Shepherd, in his power, Mailed and horsed, with lance and sword, To his ancestors restored Like a re-appearing Star, Like a glory from afar, 155 First shall head the flock of war!"

Alas! the impassioned minstrel did not know How, by Heaven's grace, this Clifford's heart was framed: How he, long forced in humble walks to go,[15] Was softened into feeling, soothed, and tamed. 160

Love had he found in huts where poor men lie; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in[16] the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.

In him the savage virtue of the Race, 165 Revenge, and all ferocious thoughts were dead: Nor did he change; but kept in lofty place The wisdom which adversity had bred.

Glad were the vales, and every cottage-hearth; The Shepherd-lord was honoured more and more; 170 And, ages after he was laid in earth, "The good Lord Clifford" was the name he bore.

The original text of this _Song_ was altered but little in succeeding editions, and was not changed at all till 1836 and 1845. The following is Wordsworth's explanatory note, appended to the poem in all the editions:--

"Henry Lord Clifford, etc. etc., who is the subject of this Poem, was the son of John, Lord Clifford, who was slain at Towton Field,[H] which John, Lord Clifford, as is known to the Reader of English History, was the person who after the battle of Wakefield slew, in the pursuit, the young Earl of Rutland, Son of the Duke of York who had fallen in the battle, 'in part of revenge' (say the Authors of the _History of Cumberland and Westmoreland_); 'for the Earl's Father had slain his.' A deed which worthily blemished the author (saith Speed); But who, as he adds, 'dare promise any thing temperate of himself in the heat of martial fury? chiefly, when it was resolved not to leave any branch of the York line standing; for so one maketh this Lord to speak.' This, no doubt, I would observe by the bye, was an action sufficiently in the vindictive spirit of the times, and yet not altogether so bad as represented; 'for the Earl was no child, as some writers would have him, but able to bear arms, being sixteen or seventeen years of age, as is evident from this (say the Memoirs of the Countess of Pembroke, who was laudably anxious to wipe away, as far as could be, this stigma from the illustrious name to which she was born); that he was the next Child to King Edward the Fourth, which his mother had by Richard Duke of York, and that King was then eighteen years of age: and for the small distance betwixt her Children, see Austin Vincent in his book of Nobility, page 622, where he writes of them all. It may further be observed, that Lord Clifford, who was then himself only twenty-five years of age, had been a leading Man and Commander, two or three years together in the Army of Lancaster, before this time; and, therefore, would be less likely to think that the Earl of Rutland might be entitled to mercy from his youth.--But, independent of this act, at best a cruel and savage one, the Family of Clifford had done enough to draw upon them the vehement hatred of the House of York: so that after the Battle of Towton there was no hope for them but in flight and concealment. Henry, the subject of the Poem, was deprived of his estate and honours during the space of twenty-four years; all which time he lived as a shepherd in Yorkshire, or in Cumberland, where the estate of his Father-in-law (Sir Lancelot Threlkeld) lay. He was restored to his estate and honours in the first year of Henry the Seventh. It is recorded that, 'when called to parliament, he behaved nobly and wisely; but otherwise came seldom to London or the Court; and rather delighted to live in the country, where he repaired several of his Castles, which had gone to decay during the late troubles.' Thus far is chiefly collected from Nicholson and Burn; and I can add, from my own knowledge, that there is a tradition current in the village of Threlkeld and its neighbourhood, his principal retreat, that, in the course of his shepherd life, he had acquired great astronomical knowledge. I cannot conclude this note without adding a word upon the subject of those numerous and noble feudal Edifices, spoken of in the Poem, the ruins of some of which are, at this day, so great an ornament to that interesting country. The Cliffords had always been distinguished for an honourable pride in these Castles; and we have seen that after the wars of York and Lancaster they were rebuilt; in the civil Wars of Charles the First, they were again laid waste, and again restored almost to their former magnificence by the celebrated Lady Anne Clifford, Countess of Pembroke, etc. etc. Not more than twenty-five years after this was done, when the Estates of Clifford had passed into the Family of Tufton, three of these Castles, namely Brough, Brougham, and Pendragon, were demolished, and the timber and other materials sold by Thomas Earl of Thanet. We will hope that, when this order was issued, the Earl had not consulted the text of Isaiah, 58th Chap. 12th Verse, to which the inscription placed over the gate of Pendragon Castle, by the Countess of Pembroke (I believe his Grandmother) at the time she repaired that structure, refers the reader. '_And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places; thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations, and thou shalt be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell in._' The Earl of Thanet, the present possessor of the Estates, with a due respect for the memory of his ancestors, and a proper sense of the value and beauty of these remains of antiquity, has (I am told) given orders that they shall be preserved from all depredations."