Chapter XI: Part 11

The Pastor ceased.--My venerable Friend
Victoriously upraised his clear bright eye;
And, when that eulogy was ended, stood
Enrapt, as if his inward sense perceived
The prolongation of some still response, 895
Sent by the ancient Soul of this wide land,
The Spirit of its mountains and its seas,
Its cities, temples, fields, its awful power,
Its rights and virtues--by that Deity
Descending, and supporting his pure heart 900
With patriotic confidence and joy.
And, at the last of those memorial words,
The pining Solitary turned aside;
Whether through manly instinct to conceal
Tender emotions spreading from the heart 905
To his worn cheek; or with uneasy shame
For those cold humours of habitual spleen
That,[719] fondly seeking in dispraise of man
Solace and self-excuse, had sometimes urged
To self-abuse a not ineloquent tongue. 910
--Right toward[720] the sacred Edifice his steps
Had been directed; and we saw him now
Intent upon a monumental stone,
Whose uncouth form was grafted on the wall,
Or rather seemed to have grown into the side 915
Of the rude pile; as oft-times trunks of trees,
Where nature works in wild and craggy spots,
Are seen incorporate with the living rock--
To endure for aye. The Vicar, taking note
Of his employment, with a courteous smile 920
Exclaimed--
"The sagest Antiquarian's eye
That task would foil;" then, letting fall his voice
While he advanced, thus spake: "Tradition tells[721]
That, in Eliza's golden days,[JL] a Knight
Came on a war-horse[JM] sumptuously attired, 925
And fixed his home in this sequestered vale.
'Tis left untold if here he first drew breath,
Or as a stranger reached this deep recess,
Unknowing and unknown. A pleasing thought
I sometimes entertain, that haply bound 930
To Scotland's court in service of his Queen,
Or sent on mission to some northern Chief
Of England's realm, this vale he might have seen
With transient observation; and thence caught
An image fair, which, brightening in his soul 935
When joy of war and pride of chivalry
Languished beneath accumulated years,[722]
Had power to draw him from the world, resolved
To make that paradise his chosen home
To which his peaceful fancy oft had turned. 940

"Vague thoughts are these; but, if belief may rest
Upon unwritten story fondly traced
From sire to son, in this obscure retreat
The Knight arrived, with spear and shield, and borne
Upon a Charger gorgeously bedecked 945
With broidered housings.[723] And the lofty Steed--[JN]
His sole companion, and his faithful friend,
Whom he, in gratitude, let loose to range
In fertile pastures--was beheld with eyes
Of admiration and delightful awe, 950
By those untravelled Dalesmen. With less pride,
Yet free from touch of envious discontent,
They saw a mansion at his bidding rise,
Like a bright star, amid the lowly band 954
Of their rude homesteads. Here the Warrior dwelt;
And, in that mansion, children of his own,
Or kindred, gathered round him. As a tree
That falls and disappears, the house is gone;[JO]
And, through improvidence or want of love
For ancient worth and honourable things, 960
The spear and shield are vanished, which the Knight
Hung in his rustic hall. One ivied arch
Myself have seen, a gateway,[JO] last remains
Of that foundation in domestic care
Raised by his hands. And now no trace is left 965
Of the mild-hearted Champion, save this stone,
Faithless memorial! and his family name
Borne by yon clustering cottages, that sprang
From out the ruins of his stately lodge:
These, and the name and title at full length,-- 970
<f>Sir Alfred Irthing</f>, with appropriate words
Accompanied, still extant, in a wreath
Or posy, girding round the several fronts
Of three clear-sounding and harmonious bells,
That in the steeple hang, his pious gift."[JP] 975

"So fails, so languishes, grows dim, and dies,"
The grey-haired Wanderer pensively exclaimed,
"All that this world is proud of. From their spheres
The stars of human glory are cast down;
Perish the roses and the flowers of kings,[JQ] 980
Princes, and emperors, and the crowns and palms
Of all the mighty, withered and consumed!
Nor is power given to lowliest innocence
Long to protect her own. The man himself
Departs; and soon is spent the line of those 985
Who, in the bodily image, in the mind,
In heart or soul, in station or pursuit,
Did most resemble him. Degrees and ranks,
Fraternities and orders--heaping high
New wealth upon the burthen of the old, 990
And placing trust in privilege confirmed
And re-confirmed--are scoffed at with a smile
Of greedy foretaste, from the secret stand
Of Desolation, aimed: to slow decline
These yield, and these to sudden overthrow: 995
Their virtue, service, happiness, and state
Expire; and nature's pleasant robe of green,
Humanity's appointed shroud, enwraps
Their monuments and their memory. The vast Frame
Of social nature changes evermore 1000
Her organs and her members with decay
Restless, and restless generation, powers
And functions dying and produced at need,--
And by this law the mighty whole subsists:
With an ascent and progress in the main; 1005
Yet, oh! how disproportioned to the hopes
And expectations of self-flattering minds!

"The courteous Knight, whose bones are here interred,
Lived in an age conspicuous as our own
For strife and ferment in the minds of men; 1010
Whence alteration in the forms of things,
Various and vast. A memorable age!
Which did to him assign a pensive lot--
To linger 'mid the last of those bright clouds
That, on the steady breeze of honour, sailed 1015
In long procession calm and beautiful.
He who had seen his own bright order fade,
And its devotion gradually decline,
(While war, relinquishing the lance and shield,
Her temper changed, and bowed to other laws) 1020
Had also witnessed, in his morn of life,
That violent commotion, which o'erthrew,
In town and city and sequestered glen,
Altar, and cross, and church of solemn roof,
And old religious house--pile after pile; 1025
And shook their[724] tenants out into the fields,
Like wild beasts without home! Their hour was come;
But why no softening thought of gratitude,
No just remembrance, scruple, or wise doubt?
Benevolence is mild; nor borrows help, 1030
Save at worst need, from bold impetuous force,
Fitliest allied to anger and revenge.
But Human-kind rejoices in the might
Of mutability; and airy hopes,
Dancing around her, hinder and disturb 1035
Those meditations of the soul that[725] feed
The retrospective virtues. Festive songs
Break from the maddened nations at the sight
Of sudden overthrow; and cold neglect
Is the sure consequence of slow decay. 1040

"Even," said the Wanderer, "as that courteous Knight,
Bound by his vow to labour for redress
Of all who suffer wrong, and to enact
By sword and lance the law of gentleness,
(If I may venture of myself to speak, 1045
Trusting that not incongruously I blend
Low things with lofty) I too shall be doomed
To outlive the kindly use and fair esteem
Of the poor calling which my youth embraced
With no unworthy prospect. But enough; 1050
--Thoughts crowd upon me--and 'twere seemlier now
To stop, and yield our gracious Teacher thanks
For the pathetic records which his voice
Hath here delivered; words of heartfelt truth,
Tending to patience when affliction strikes; 1055
To hope and love; to confident repose
In God; and reverence for the dust of Man."

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 627: 1836.

_his patriotic enthusiasm--distinguished qualities--and_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 628: 1827.

... craggy top, 1814.
]

[Footnote 629: 1836.

Upon ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 630: 1827.

... that lie apart,
Unsociable company and sad;
And, furthermore, appearing to encroach 1814.
]

[Footnote 631: 1827.

... follow with your eyes
The length of road which ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 632: 1827.

... among ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 633: 1836.

Towards ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 634: 1814.

Be crossed, and into those secluded vales C.
]

[Footnote 635: 1832.

... tow'rds ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 636: 1827.

Which told that 'twas ... 1814.

Gay offering from ... MS.
]

[Footnote 637: 1836.

... beneath the green-wood Tree?
Or are they Strollers, ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 638: 1827.

Had frolicked many a year; a simple Clerk
By hopes of coming patronage beguiled
And vexed, until the weary heart grew sick.
And so, abandoning each higher aim
And all his shewy Friends, at length he turned 1814.

Had frolicked many a year; a simple Clerk
Beguiled by hopes of coming patronage
Till the heart sicken'd so each loftier aim
Abandoning, and all his showy Friends
He turned to this sequester'd Chapelry;
Kindly presented to his doubtful choice MS.
]

[Footnote 639: 1836.

For a life's stay, though slender yet assured,
To this remote and humble Chapelry;
Which ... 1814.

For a life's stay, though slender yet assured,
He turned to this secluded Chapelry,
That ... 1827.
]

[Footnote 640: 1836.

With which the scantily-provided Cure
Not long had been endowed: and far remote
The Chapel stood, divided from that House
By an unpeopled tract of mountain waste. 1814.
]

[Footnote 641: 1827.

... compelled,
Month after month, in that obscure Abode
To rise ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 642: 1827.

Or these ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 643: 1827.

Contentedly, to take a temperate meal
At his own board, ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 644: 1836.

With acceptable treat ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 645: 1845.

... on ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 646:

... that ... MS.
]

[Footnote 647: 1827.

... festive ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 648: 1836.

These ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 649: 1836.

... upon its ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 650: 1836.

... growth 1814.
]

[Footnote 651: 1827.

... and ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 652: 1836.

--These ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 653: 1827.

As I have seen it, ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 654: 1827.

Which ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 655: 1827.

Which ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 656: 1827.

Without distinction falling ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 657: The following lines occur only in the editions of 1814 and 1820.

--Yoke-fellows were they long and well approved
To endure and to perform.
With frugal pains,
Yet in a course of generous discipline,
Did this poor Churchman and his Consort rear
Their progeny.--Of three--sent forth to try
The paths of fortune in the open world,
One, not endowed with firmness to resist
The suit of pleasure, to his native Vale
Returned, and humbly tilled his Father's glebe.
--The youngest Daughter, too, in duty stayed
To lighten her declining Mother's care.
But, ere the bloom was passed away which health
Preserved to adorn a cheek no longer young,
Her heart, in course of nature, finding place
For new affections, to the holy state
Of wedlock they conducted her; but still
The Bride adhering to those filial cares
Dwelt with her Mate beneath her Father's roof.

... discipline
Their progeny was reared.--Of three that tried MS.

But, ere her bloom had fled by health preserved
To decorate a cheek no longer young, MS.
]

[Footnote 658: 1836.

Of open schemes, and all his ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 659: 1827.

... these ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 660: 1836.

In ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 661: Italics were first used in 1836.]

[Footnote 662: 1836.

... 'twixt ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 663: 1845.

... would never quit;
Hither, ere long, that lowly, great, good Man
Will be conveyed. An unelaborate Stone 1814.

Into its graveyard will ere long be borne
That lowly great good man. A simple stone
May cover him, and by that record's help, C.
]

[Footnote 664: 1827.

... frames ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 665: 1845.

... and instantly dissolves.
--Noise ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 666: 1832.

... where'er he may? 1814.
]

[Footnote 667: 1836.

... deeds and purposes; ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 668: 1836.

... discomfiture ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 669: 1827.

... through fields
And cottages, ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 670: 1845.

... this ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 671: 1845.

Of what it holds ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 672: 1836.

... tow'rds ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 673: 1814.

Beneath that pine which rears its dusky head
Aloft, and covered by a plain blue stone
Briefly inscribed, a gentle Dalesman lies;
Quoted from MS. in _Essay upon Epitaphs_. 1810.
]

[Footnote 674: 1814.

No husband's ... 1810.
]

[Footnote 675: 1836.

... had each ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 676: 1836.

To the assembled spirits of the just
From imperfection and decay secure. 1814.
]

[Footnote 677: 1845.

To think of One, who cannot see, advancing
Towards some precipice's airy brink! 1814.

Toward ... 1832.

To think of one, who cannot see, advancing
Straight toward some precipice's airy brink! 1836.
]

[Footnote 678: 1827.

... brink ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 679: 1836.

Or ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 680: 1827.

... and ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 681: 1827.

... may win their recompence; 1814.
]

[Footnote 682: 1814.

Not least for this that here might be perceived
A type and shadow of that awful truth. C.
]

[Footnote 683: 1827.

... of the space 1814.
]

[Footnote 684: 1827.

... with attentive ear,
Nor disbelieves the tidings which he hears.
Meanwhile the incense offered up by him
Is of the kind which beasts and birds present 1814.
]

[Footnote 685: 1827.

... horizon's edge,
Transparent texture, framing in the east
A veil ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 686: 1827.

... hath owed to him 1814.
]

[Footnote 687: 1827.

The loftiest of her pendants. Help he gives
To lordly mansion rising far or near;
The enormous wheel that turns ten thousand spindles, 1814.

... pendants. And the wheel
Enormous, that turns round ten thousand spindles, MS.
]

[Footnote 688: 1827.

... their ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 689: 1827.

Among the mountain coves, or keen research
In forest, park, or chace. Yon household Fir, 1814.
]

[Footnote 690: 1827.

... lasses ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 691: 1827.

... of their fate.
Not one would have his pitiful regard,
For prized accommodation, pleasant use,
For dignity, for old acquaintance sake,
For ancient custom or distinguished name.
His sentence ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 692: 1827.

And promising to stand from year to year, 1814.
]

[Footnote 693: 1827.

Was given, the crown and glory of the whole!
Welcomed with joy, whose penetrating power
Was not unfelt amid that heavenly calm 1814.
]

[Footnote 694: 1827.

... from his open door,
And from the laurel-shaded seat thereby,
Day after day ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 695: 1836.

... and almost all ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 696: 1836.

... the ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 697:

Range round the garden-walk, whose first Spring flowers
Were peeping forth, even at that hopeful time, MS.
]

[Footnote 698: 1827.

Range round the garden-walk, whose low ground-flowers
Were peeping forth, shy messengers of spring,--
Even at that hopeful time,--the winds of March,
One sunny day, smiting insidiously, 1814.
]

[Footnote 699: 1827.

.... their hope and soul's delight.
--But Providence, that gives and takes away
By his own law, is merciful and just;
Time wants not power ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 700: 1836.

... a peaceful grave.
On a bright day, the brightest of the year,
These mountains echoed with an unknown sound, 1814.
]

[Footnote 701: 1827.

... The mountain Ash,
Decked ... 1814.

...The mountain ash
Ye may have mark'd mid yet unfaded woods
Deck'd with autumnal berries that outshine
The richest blossoms of the Spring, or seen MS.
]

[Footnote 702: 1827.

Spring's richest blossoms, yields a splendid show,
Amid the leafy woods; and ye have seen, 1814.
]

[Footnote 703: 1827.

Had bounteously ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 704: 1814.

Fleeing for life the fox was taught to dread
His voice and indefatigable feet. C.

Or,

The fox in many wiles however versed
Or spent in strength by forward flight
O'er { hill and vale } was taught to dread
{ vale and stream }
His voice and indefatigable feet
Still foremost, longest in the obstinate chase. C.
]

[Footnote 705: 1827.

... he could lift ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 706: 1836.

... steady aim.
From Gallia's coast a Tyrant's threats were hurled; 1814.

From Gallia's coast a Tyrant hurled his threats; 1827.
]

[Footnote 707: 1827.

... preparations vast 1814.
]

[Footnote 708: 1832.

... and ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 709: 1827.

... tow'rds ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 710: 1827.

... Judea's ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 711: 1836.

... or ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 712: 1836.

This spoken, from his seat the Pastor rose,
And moved towards the grave;--instinctively
His steps we followed; and my voice exclaimed, 1814.
]

[Footnote 713: 1836.

When these involuntary words had ceased, 1814.
]

[Footnote 714: 1836.

... power to pierce.
Why do ye quake, intimidated Thrones? 1814.
]

[Footnote 715: 1836.

... Seats, 1814.
]

[Footnote 716: 1836.

... who still
Exist, as Pagan Temples stood of old,
By very horror of their impious rites
Preserved; are suffered to extend their pride, 1814.
]

[Footnote 717: 1845.

One summer's day, a day of annual pomp 1814.
]

[Footnote 718: 1827.

... too negligent of self,
(A natural failing which maturer years
Would have subdued) took fearlessly--and kept--
His wonted station in the chilling flood,
Among a busy company convened
To wash his Father's flock. Convulsions dire 1814.
]

[Footnote 719: 1827.

Which ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 720: 1827.

... tow'rds ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 721: 1827.

That task would foil." And, with these added words,
He thitherward advanced, "Tradition tells 1814.
]

[Footnote 722: 1827.

... in his soul
When years admonished him of failing strength
And he no more rejoiced in war's delights, 1814.

Long crush'd beneath ... MS.
]

[Footnote 723: 1845.

The Knight arrived, with pomp of spear and shield,
And borne upon a Charger covered o'er
With gilded housings.... 1814.
]

[Footnote 724: 1836.

... the ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 725: 1827.

... which ... 1814.
]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote IC: In the end of May and in June 1791, Wordsworth went with his friend Jones on a pedestrian tour in Wales.--ED.]

[Footnote ID: Note the exactness of the reference to the "playground of the village-school." It is described as "smooth" because it had no graves in it at that time. "The school," writes Dr. Cradock, "was then, and long afterwards, held at the house abutting the Lichgate, and the children had no playground but the churchyard. The portion of the ground nearest the school was not used for burial, until the want of room made it necessary to encroach on it. The oldest tombstone bears the date of 1777."--ED.]

[Footnote IE: This "tuft of trees" is still standing (1896).--ED.]

[Footnote IF: The road "up the heathy waste," and mounting "in mazes serpentine," is the Keswick road over Dunmail Raise, the "easy outlet of the vale."--ED.]

[Footnote IG: The cottage in which the parson of Wytheburn then lived still stands on the right or eastern side of the road, as you ascend the Raise, beyond the Swan Inn. It abuts on the public road about three hundred yards beyond the bridge over Tongue Ghyll beck. "The Clergyman and his family described at the beginning of the seventh book were, during many years, our principal associates in the vale of Grasmere, unless I were to except our very nearest neighbours.... With the single exception of the particulars of their journey to Grasmere--which, however, was exactly copied from real life in another instance--the whole that I have said of them is as faithful to the truth as words can make it." (I. F.)--ED.]

[Footnote IH: Compare Dryden's _Epilogue to Henry II._--

Jane Clifford was her name, as books aver:
Fair Rosamond was but her _nom de guerre_.

Also Sir Walter Scott's _Woodstock_, and _The Talisman_.--ED.]

[Footnote II: Compare Gay, _The Shepherds Week_, the Sixth Pastoral, line 91--

Then sad he sung "The children in the wood."
Ah! barb'rous Uncle, stain'd with infant blood! ED.
]

[Footnote IJ: Compare _The Prelude_, book vii. ll. 110-115 (see vol. iii. p. 251).--ED.]

[Footnote IK: The chapel of Wytheburn, at the northern or Cumberland side of Dunmail Raise.--ED.]

[Footnote IL: This house, in which Mr. Sympson lived, and which--though no longer the parsonage--still belongs to Wytheburn church, is easily identified. The "blue slabs of mountain-stone," common to all old houses in the vale, remain just as they were, when the old pastor lived, and Wordsworth was his frequent guest. The windows, too, "by shutters weather-fended," are described with minute fidelity.--ED.]

[Footnote IM: Mrs. Sympson was twelve years her husband's junior, and she pre-deceased him by a year and a half.

Compare--

"She, far behind him in the race of years" (l. 226).

And

"Not twice had summer," etc. (l. 247). ED.
]

[Footnote IN: Old Mr. Sympson was found dead in his garden on the opposite side of the road from the cottage, in 1807, in his ninety-second year. There is now a new door into the garden, but the posts are old enough to have been there in Sympson's time.--ED.]

[Footnote IO: The Sympsons are all buried at Grasmere. Their gravestone stands about ten yards north-west from that of their poet, not far from the monument erected in memory of Arthur Hugh Clough. There is only one stone, a low one, with a pointed top. The following is the inscription on it:--"Here lie the remains of the Reverend Jos. Sympson, Minister of Wytheburn for more than 50 years. He died June 27, 1807, aged 92; also of Mary, his wife, who died Jan. 24, 1806, aged 81; also of Eliz. Jane, their youngest Dr., who died Sep. 11, 1801, aged 37."--ED.]

[Footnote IP: The Duddon valley.--ED.]

[Footnote IQ: See the notes to the Duddon sonnets.--ED.]

[Footnote IR: The chapelry of Seathwaite. The reference to "yon hill" suggests that the conversation is carried on at Hackett (rather than Grasmere), whence Wetherlam--which concealed the Duddon valley--would be visible.--ED.]

[Footnote IS: It is so. In the churchyard of Seathwaite a plain stone slab records the fact that he died on the 25th June 1802, in the ninety-third year of his age.--ED.]

[Footnote IT: "The Deaf Man, whose epitaph may be seen in the churchyard at the head of Hawes Water, and whose qualities of mind and heart, and their benign influence in conjunction with his privation, I had from his relatives on the spot."--I. F.

Thomas Holme of Chapel Hill was his name. On his epitaph it is said "he was deprived of the sense of hearing in his youth, and lived about 58 years without the comfort of hearing one word. He reconciled himself to his misfortune by reading, and useful employment." He died in 1773, "aged 67 years."

From this it is clear that we must not look for the "tall pine" or the "plain blue stone" in Grasmere churchyard! and that the localities as well as the narratives of _The Excursion_ are at times composite.--ED.]

[Footnote IU: For another reference to the streams in the Grasmere Vale, compare the _Lines composed at Grasmere_, when Mr. Fox's death was hourly expected (vol. iv. p. 47)--

Loud is the Vale! the Voice is up
With which she speaks when storms are gone,
A mighty unison of streams!
Of all her Voices, One. ED.
]

[Footnote IV: Either Stone Arthur, or Loughrigg. Compare the lines _To the Clouds_, suggested by their appearance on Nab Scar--

Army of Clouds! ye wingéd Host in troops
Ascending from behind the motionless brow
Of that tall rock, etc. ED.
]

[Footnote IW: "The Blind Man was John Gough, of Kendal, a man known, far beyond his neighbourhood, for his talents and attainments in natural history and science."--I.F. For an account of John Gough, see Appendix, and note [IX] p. 304.--ED.]

[Footnote IX: This John Gough, a friend of Wordsworth's, was one of the first mathematicians of his time, and a most successful teacher. Whewell and King (senior wranglers) were amongst his pupils. So was Dalton. Gough had been deprived of sight by an attack of small-pox, when he was between two and three years of age. He was a great botanist, as is mentioned in the text; and the following remarkable circumstance is recorded of him, showing at once his marvellous memory, and the extreme delicacy of his sense of _touch_. In the _Elegiac Verses_ on his brother John, Wordsworth had described the moss campion, _Silene acaulis_--

It grows upon its native bed
Beside our Parting-place;
There, cleaving to the ground, it lies
With multitude of purple eyes,
Spangling a cushion green like moss.

This poem was read to Gough in 1805 (it was not published till 1845), and twelve years afterwards, in 1817, a specimen of the moss campion was placed in his hand, and he said at once, "I have never examined this plant before, but it is _Silene acaulis_." Compare Atkinson's _Worthies of Cumberland_ and note E in the Appendix to this volume, p. 398.--ED.]

[Footnote IY: Compare _Paradise Lost_, book vi. l. 752.--ED.]

[Footnote IZ: See note [XI] above.--ED.]

[Footnote JA: Compare _L'Allegro_, l. 137--

Married to immortal verse. ED.
]

[Footnote JB: See Wordsworth's note, p. 389.--ED.]

[Footnote JC: Compare Burger's _Pfarrers Tochter_--

Drei Spannen lang. ED.
]

[Footnote JD: "This refers to the Greens, a very ancient Grasmere family, settled for generations at Pavement End, which, with a considerable tract of land, is still their property. The poet describes them as dwelling at Gold-rill side, and I have been told that the name was a pure invention to avoid the realism of 'Grasmere,' or 'Pavement End.' Such, however, is not exactly the case. On enquiry from Mr. Fleming Green, one of the family now residing in Grasmere, I find that a small stream to which Wordsworth himself, from some fancy of his own, had given the name of Gold-rill, ran formerly by the road side, and then turned by the side of the farm at Pavement End towards the Lake. When the road was reconstructed, the rill was covered, and can no more be seen there; but it issues freely from a culvert at the back of the premises, and runs by the hedge-side to the Lake. Mr. Fleming Green remembers the rill as it was, and pointed out its course to me. He is a son of one of the 'seven lusty sons' mentioned in the poem. (Mr. Green would read 'six.') He said 'we stuck to the old home till we could no longer stand up in it.' He is one of a race well termed 'lusty.' The 'hoary grandsire' and many of his descendants lie buried in a long row, a little to the left of the path leading from the Church to the lichgate at the north. Among them is little Margaret (her name and age not unrecorded), but her 'daisied hillock three spans long' is now merged in the larger graves of her more aged kindred." (Dr. Cradock to the Editor.)--ED.]

[Footnote JE: "Of the infant's grave I will only say, it is an exact picture of what fell under my own observation."--I. F.]

[Footnote JF: Compare George Herbert's

Sweet Day, so cool, so calm and bright. ED.
]

[Footnote JG: "This young volunteer bore the name of Dawson.... The premature death of this gallant young man was much lamented, and as an attendant upon the funeral, I myself witnessed the ceremony, and the effect of it as described in the poem."--I. F. See the whole of the note (p. 13).

"In _The Excursion_, book vii., is an animated account of the life and death of a young volunteer, one of a company of eighty men, which, when England was threatened with a French invasion, was formed in the Lake District, and was named 'Wedgwood's Mountaineers,' having by him in a generous spirit of patriotism been clothed and armed, and this in the completest manner, as riflemen." See _Fragmentary Remains, Literary and Scientific, of Sir Humphrey Davy, Bart._ (1858), p. 109. The Wedgwood referred to was the Thomas Wedgwood who assisted Coleridge so opportunely.

In 1806 Wordsworth wrote of Dawson: "His calm and dignified manner, united with his tall form and beautiful face, produced in me an impression of sublimity beyond what I ever experienced from the appearance of any other human being."--ED.]

[Footnote JH: The Napoleonic threat of invasion.--ED.]

[Footnote JI: Dr. John Davy, the editor of his brother Sir Humphry Davy's _Fragmentary Remains_, was of opinion (see p. 110) that "in describing the high qualities, intellectual and moral, of the young soldier, the poet has in his mind the memory of the man whose name was so properly associated with the company,--idealising according to his wont,--selecting such qualities as suited his purpose." He refers to Mr. Wedgwood, the founder of this volunteer corps.--ED.]

[Footnote JJ: Compare the Book of _Joshua_, _passim_; Josephus, _Ant._ v. I. Also, _Judges_ vii.; and Josephus, _Ant._ v. 6.--ED.]

[Footnote JK: Is it a reference to the Pauline description of Charity (1 Cor. xiii. 7), "Charity ... hopeth all things, endureth all things"?--ED.]

[Footnote JL: Compare _The White Doe of Rylstone_, canto i. l. 42 (vol. iv. p. 107)--

In great Eliza's golden time. ED.
]

[Footnote JM: See the Fenwick note, p. 13.--ED.]

[Footnote JN: See Spenser's _Faërie Queene_, part 1, canto viii. stanza 2.--ED.]

[Footnote JO: "The pillars of the gateway in front of the mansion remained when we first took up our abode at Grasmere. Two or three cottages still remain which are called Nott Houses, from the name of the gentleman (I have called him a knight) concerning whom these traditions survive. He was the ancestor of the Knott family, formerly considerable proprietors in the district."--I. F.]

[Footnote JP: It is clear from the Fenwick note (see p. 13) that the title, "Sir Alfred Irthing," was Wordsworth's invention. I am indebted to the Rector of Grasmere--the Rev. Henry M. Fletcher--for the following information as to the bells of the church, and to the "Nott house":--

"Three bells hang in the tower. That they are 'clear-sounding and harmonious' I think may be said of them without poetical license. They have not on them the name and title of their donor. Two of them have coats of arms. My son believes that the quarterings show that they were the gifts of the Flemings of Rydal Hall, patrons, for some hundred years, of the living. The third, and smallest, reports of itself that it was recast at the expense of Mrs. Dorothy Knott, in the year 1808, and that Thomas Mears of London did the work. This last inscription is partly in Latin. The two older bells have on them the inscriptions respectively of 'Soli Deo' and 'Gloria in altissimis Deo.'

"Looking over the old book of Church Warden's accounts, I observe that, in the year 1732, there is an item

'Towards casting the bells, and other charges, £40, 3s. 9d.,'

and in the following year, 1733, again

'Towards casting the bells, and other charges, £49, 0s. 3d.'

This, at a time when the whole of the general charge yearly ranged from £2 to £5. It was a re-casting, I presume.

"The 'Nott house' still exists, and is the residence of our chief 'statesman,' James Fleming. It is known as 'Knott's Houses.' In the dialect of this county, when purely used, there is no possessive 's. Mr. Fletcher's letters being always, _e.g._, spoken of at the post-office here as 'Mr. Fletcher letters.' 'Nott house,' therefore, meant a house belonging to Mrs. Dorothy Knott, or her husband's forefathers. A little group of houses has formed round it; but the old Farm House, I make little doubt, is the one for which you ask."

See also Charles Lamb's remarks in his third letter to Wordsworth about _The Excursion_, written in 1814.]

[Footnote JQ: See Wordsworth's note, p. 389.--ED.]

Book Eighth

THE PARSONAGE

ARGUMENT

_Pastor's apology and apprehensions[726] that he might have
detained his Auditors too long, with the Pastor's invitation
to his house_[727]--_Solitary disinclined to comply--rallies the
Wanderer--and playfully_[728] _draws a comparison between his
itinerant profession and that of the Knight-errant--which leads
to Wanderer's giving an account of changes in the Country from
the manufacturing spirit--Favourable effects--The other side
of the picture, and chiefly as it has affected the humbler
classes--Wanderer asserts the hollowness of all national grandeur
if unsupported by moral worth_[729]--_Physical science unable to
support itself--Lamentations over an excess of manufacturing
industry among the humbler Classes of Society--Picture of a Child
employed in a Cotton-mill--Ignorance and degradation of Children
among the agricultural Population reviewed--Conversation broken
off by a renewed Invitation from the Pastor--Path leading to his
House--Its appearance described--His Daughter--His Wife--His Son
(a Boy) enters with his Companion--Their happy appearance--The
Wanderer how affected by the sight of them._

The pensive Sceptic of the lonely vale
To those acknowledgments subscribed his own,
With a sedate compliance, which the Priest
Failed not to notice, inly pleased, and said:--
"If ye, by whom invited I began 5
These narratives[730] of calm and humble life,
Be satisfied, 'tis well,--the end is gained;
And in return for sympathy bestowed
And patient listening, thanks accept from me.
--Life, death, eternity! momentous themes 10
Are they[731]--and might demand a seraph's tongue,
Were they not equal to their own support;
And therefore no incompetence of mine
Could do them wrong. The universal forms
Of human nature, in a spot like this, 15
Present themselves at once to all men's view:
Ye wished for act and circumstance, that make
The individual known and understood;
And such as my best judgment could select
From what the place afforded, have been given; 20
Though apprehensions crossed me that my zeal
To his might well be likened, who unlocks
A cabinet stored with gems and pictures--draws
His treasures forth, soliciting regard[732]
To this, and this, as worthier than the last, 25
Till the spectator, who awhile was pleased 25
More than the exhibitor himself, becomes
Weary and faint, and longs to be released.
--But let us hence! my dwelling is in sight,
And there--"
At this the Solitary shrunk 30
With backward will; but, wanting not address
That inward motion to disguise, he said
To his Compatriot, smiling as he spake;
--"The peaceable remains of this good Knight
Would be disturbed, I fear, with wrathful scorn, 35
If consciousness could reach him where he lies
That one, albeit of these degenerate times,
Deploring changes past, or dreading change
Foreseen, had dared to couple, even in thought,
The fine vocation of the sword and lance 40
With the gross aims and body-bending toil
Of a poor brotherhood who walk the earth
Pitied, and, where they are not known, despised.

"Yet, by the good Knight's leave, the two estates
Are graced with some resemblance. Errant those, 45
Exiles and wanderers--and the like are these;
Who, with their burthen, traverse hill and dale,
Carrying relief for nature's simple wants.
--What though no higher recompense be sought[733]
Than honest maintenance, by irksome toil 50
Full oft procured, yet may they[734] claim respect,
Among the intelligent, for what this course
Enables them to be and to perform.
Their tardy steps give leisure to observe,
While solitude permits the mind to feel; 55
Instructs, and prompts her[735] to supply defects
By the division of her inward self
For grateful converse: and to these poor men
Nature (I but repeat your favourite boast)
Is bountiful--go wheresoe'er they may;[736] 60
Kind nature's various wealth is all their own.
Versed in the characters of men; and bound,
By ties[737] of daily interest, to maintain
Conciliatory manners and smooth speech;
Such have been, and still are in their degree, 65
Examples efficacious to refine
Rude intercourse; apt agents to expel,[738]
By importation of unlooked-for arts,
Barbarian torpor, and blind prejudice;
Raising, through just gradation, savage life 70
To rustic, and the rustic to urbane.
--Within their moving magazines is lodged
Power that comes forth to quicken and exalt
Affections[739] seated in the mother's breast,
And in the lover's fancy; and to feed 75
The sober sympathies of long-tried friends.
--By these Itinerants, as experienced men,
Counsel is given; contention they appease
With gentle language; in remotest wilds,[740]
Tears wipe away, and pleasant tidings bring; 80
Could the proud quest of chivalry do more?"

"Happy," rejoined the Wanderer, "they who gain
A panegyric from your generous tongue!
But, if to these Wayfarers once pertained
Aught of romantic interest, it is gone.[741] 85
Their purer service, in this realm at least,
Is past for ever.--An inventive Age
Has wrought, if not with speed of magic, yet
To most strange issues. I have lived to mark
A new and unforeseen creation rise 90
From out the labours of a peaceful Land
Wielding her potent enginery to frame
And to produce, with appetite as keen
As that of war, which rests not night or day,
Industrious to destroy![JR] With fruitless pains 95
Might one like me _now_ visit many a tract
Which, in his youth, he trod, and trod again,
A lone pedestrian with a scanty freight,[JS]
Wished-for, or welcome, wheresoe'er he came--
Among the tenantry of thorpe and vill;[JT] 100
Or straggling burgh, of ancient charter proud,
And dignified by battlements and towers
Of some stern castle, mouldering on the brow
Of a green hill or bank of rugged stream.[JU]
The foot-path faintly marked, the horse-track wild, 105
And formidable length of plashy lane,
(Prized avenues ere others had been shaped
Or easier links connecting place with place)
Have vanished--swallowed up by stately roads
Easy and bold, that penetrate the gloom 110
Of Britain's[742] farthest glens. The Earth has lent
Her waters, Air her breezes;[JV] and the sail
Of traffic glides with ceaseless intercourse,[743][JW]
Glistening along the low and woody dale;
Or, in its progress, on the lofty side, 115
Of some bare hill, with wonder kenned from far.[744][JX]

"Meanwhile, at social Industry's command,
How quick, how vast an increase! From the germ
Of some poor hamlet, rapidly produced
Here a huge town, continuous and compact, 120
Hiding the face of earth for leagues--and there,
Where not a habitation stood before,
Abodes[745] of men irregularly massed
Like trees in forests,--spread through spacious tracts,
O'er which the smoke of unremitting fires 125
Hangs permanent,[JY] and plentiful as wreaths
Of vapour glittering in the morning sun.
And, wheresoe'er the traveller turns his steps,
He sees the barren wilderness erased,
Or disappearing; triumph that proclaims 130
How much the mild Directress of the plough
Owes to alliance with these new-born arts!
--Hence is the wide sea peopled,--hence[746] the shores
Of Britain are resorted to by ships
Freighted from every climate of the world 135
With the world's choicest produce. Hence that sum
Of keels that rest within her crowded ports,
Or ride at anchor in her sounds and bays;
That animating spectacle of sails
That,[747] through her inland regions, to and fro 140
Pass with the respirations of the tide,
Perpetual, multitudinous! Finally,
Hence a dread arm of floating power, a voice
Of thunder daunting those who would approach
With hostile purposes the blessed Isle, 145
Truth's consecrated residence, the seat
Impregnable of Liberty and Peace.

"And yet, O happy Pastor of a flock
Faithfully watched, and, by that loving care
And Heaven's good providence, preserved from taint!
With you I grieve, when on the darker side 151
Of this great change I look; and there behold
Such outrage[748] done to nature as compels
The indignant power to justify herself;
Yea, to avenge her violated rights, 155
For England's bane.--When soothing darkness spreads
O'er hill and vale," the Wanderer thus expressed
His recollections, "and the punctual stars,
While all things else are gathering to their homes,
Advance, and in the firmament of heaven 160
Glitter--but undisturbing, undisturbed;
As if their silent company were charged
With peaceful admonitions for the heart
Of all-beholding Man, earth's thoughtful lord;
Then, in full many a region, once like this 165
The assured domain of calm simplicity
And pensive quiet, an unnatural light
Prepared for never-resting Labour's eyes
Breaks from a many-windowed fabric huge;[JZ]
And at the appointed hour a bell is heard, 170
Of harsher import than the curfew-knoll
That spake the Norman Conqueror's stern behest--[KA]
A local summons to unceasing toil!
Disgorged are now the ministers of day;
And, as they issue from the illumined pile, 175
A fresh band meets them, at the crowded door--
And in the courts--and where the rumbling stream,
That turns the multitude of dizzy wheels,[KB]
Glares, like a troubled spirit, in its bed
Among the rocks below. Men, maidens, youths, 180
Mother and little children, boys and girls,
Enter, and each the wonted task resumes
Within this temple, where is offered up
To Gain, the master idol of the realm,
Perpetual sacrifice. Even thus of old 185
Our ancestors, within the still domain
Of vast cathedral or conventual church,
Their vigils kept; where tapers day and night
On the dim altar burned continually,
In token that the House was evermore 190
Watching to God. Religious men were they;
Nor would their reason, tutored to aspire
Above this transitory world, allow
That there should pass a moment of the year,[749]
When in their land the Almighty's service ceased. 195

"Triumph who will in these profaner rites
Which we, a generation self-extolled,
As zealously perform! I cannot share
His proud complacency:--yet do I exult,[750]
Casting reserve away, exult to see 200
An intellectual mastery exercised
O'er the blind elements; a purpose given,
A perseverance fed; almost a soul
Imparted--to brute matter. I rejoice,
Measuring the force of those gigantic powers 205
That,[751] by the thinking mind, have been compelled
To serve the will of feeble-bodied Man.
For with the sense of admiration blends
The animating hope that time may come
When, strengthened, yet not dazzled, by the might 210
Of this dominion over nature gained,
Men of all lands shall exercise the same
In due proportion to their country's need;
Learning, though late, that all true glory rests,
All praise, all safety, and all happiness, 215
Upon the moral law. Egyptian Thebes,
Tyre, by the margin of the sounding waves,
Palmyra, central in the desert, fell;
And the Arts died by which they had been raised.[KC]
--Call Archimedes from his buried tomb 220
Upon the grave[752] of vanished Syracuse,[KD]
And feelingly the Sage shall make report
How insecure, how baseless in itself,
Is the Philosophy whose sway depends
On[753] mere material instruments;--how weak 225
Those arts, and high inventions, if unpropped
By virtue.--He, sighing with pensive grief,[754]
Amid his calm abstractions, would admit
That not the slender privilege is theirs
To save themselves from blank forgetfulness!" 230

When from the Wanderer's lips these words had fallen,
I said, "And, did in truth those vaunted Arts[755]
Possess such privilege, how could we escape
Sadness and keen regret, we who revere,[756]
And would preserve as things above all price, 235
The old domestic morals of the land,
Her simple manners, and the stable worth
That dignified and cheered a low estate?
Oh! where is now the character of peace,
Sobriety, and order, and chaste love, 240
And honest dealing, and untainted speech,
And pure good-will, and hospitable cheer;
That made the very thought of country-life
A thought of refuge, for a mind detained
Reluctantly amid the bustling crowd? 245
Where now the beauty of the sabbath kept
With conscientious reverence, as a day
By the almighty Lawgiver pronounced
Holy and blest? and where the winning grace
Of all the lighter ornaments attached 250
To time and season, as the year rolled round?"

"Fled!" was the Wanderer's passionate response,
"Fled utterly! or only to be traced
In a few fortunate retreats like this;
Which I behold with trembling, when I think 255
What lamentable change, a year--a month--
May bring; that brook converting as it runs
Into an instrument of deadly bane
For those, who, yet untempted to forsake
The simple occupations of their sires, 260
Drink the pure water of its innocent stream
With lip almost as pure.--Domestic bliss
(Or call it comfort, by a humbler name,)
How art thou blighted for the poor Man's heart!
Lo! in such neighbourhood, from morn to eve, 265
The habitations empty! or perchance
The Mother left alone,--no helping hand
To rock the cradle of her peevish babe;
No daughters round her, busy at the wheel,
Or in dispatch of each day's little growth 270
Of household occupation; no nice arts
Of needle-work; no bustle at the fire,
Where once the dinner was prepared with pride;
Nothing to speed the day, or cheer the mind;
Nothing to praise, to teach, or to command! 275

"The Father, if perchance he still retain
His old employments, goes to field or wood,
No longer led or followed by the[757] Sons;
Idlers perchance they were,--but in _his_ sight;
Breathing fresh air, and treading the green earth; 280
'Till their short holiday of childhood ceased,
Ne'er to return! That birthright now is lost.
Economists will tell you that the State
Thrives by the forfeiture--unfeeling thought,
And false as monstrous! Can the mother thrive 285
By the destruction of her innocent sons
In whom a premature necessity
Blocks out the forms of nature, preconsumes
The reason, famishes the heart, shuts up
The infant Being in itself, and makes 290
Its very spring a season of decay!
The lot is wretched, the condition sad,
Whether a pining discontent survive,
And thirst for change; or habit hath subdued
The soul deprest, dejected--even to love 295
Of her close tasks, and long captivity.[758]

Oh, banish far such wisdom as condemns
A native Briton to these inward chains,
Fixed in his soul, so early and so deep;
Without his own consent, or knowledge, fixed! 300
He is a slave to whom release comes not,
And cannot come. The boy, where'er he turns,
Is still a prisoner; when the wind is up
Among the clouds, and roars through the ancient woods;[759]
Or when the sun is shining in the east,[760] 305
Quiet and calm. Behold him--in the school
Of his attainments? no; but with the air
Fanning his temples under heaven's blue arch.
His raiment, whitened o'er with cotton-flakes
Or locks of wool, announces whence he comes. 310
Creeping his gait and cowering, his lip pale,
His respiration quick and audible;
And scarcely could you fancy that a gleam
Could break from out those languid eyes, or a blush[761]
Mantle upon his cheek. Is this the form, 315
Is that the countenance, and such the port,
Of no mean Being? One who should be clothed
With dignity befitting his proud hope;
Who, in his very childhood, should appear
Sublime from present purity and joy! 320
The limbs increase; but liberty of mind
Is gone for ever; and this organic frame,
So joyful in its motions, is become[762]
Dull, to the joy of her own motions dead;
And even the touch, so exquisitely poured 325
Through the whole body, with a languid will
Performs its[763] functions; rarely competent
To impress a vivid feeling on the mind
Of what there is delightful in the breeze,
The gentle visitations of the sun, 330
Or lapse of liquid element--by hand,
Or foot, or lip, in summer's warmth--perceived.
--Can hope look forward to a manhood raised
On such foundations?"
"Hope is none for him!"
The pale Recluse indignantly exclaimed, 335
"And tens of thousands suffer wrong as deep.
Yet be it asked, in justice to our age,
If there were not, before those arts appeared,
These structures rose, commingling old and young,
And unripe sex with sex, for mutual taint; 340
If there were not, _then_[764] in our far-famed Isle,
Multitudes, who from infancy had breathed
Air unimprisoned, and had lived at large;
Yet walked beneath the sun, in human shape,
As abject, as degraded? At this day, 345
Who shall enumerate the crazy huts
And tottering hovels, whence do issue forth
A ragged Offspring, with their upright hair[765]
Crowned like the image of fantastic Fear;
Or wearing, (shall we say?)[766] in that white growth 350
An ill-adjusted turban, for defence
Or fierceness, wreathed around their sun-burnt brows,
By savage Nature? Shrivelled are their lips;[767]
Naked, and coloured like the soil, the feet
On which they stand; as if thereby they drew 355
Some nourishment, as trees do by their roots,
From earth, the common mother of us all.
Figure and mien, complexion and attire,
Are leagued to strike dismay; but outstretched hand[768]
And whining voice denote them supplicants 360
For the least boon that pity can bestow.
Such on the breast of darksome heaths are found;
And with their parents occupy[769] the skirts
Of furze-clad commons; such are born and reared
At the mine's mouth under[770] impending rocks; 365
Or dwell in chambers of some natural cave;
Or[771] where their ancestors erected huts,
For the convenience of unlawful gain,
In forest purlieus; and the like are bred,
All England through, where nooks and slips of ground
Purloined, in times less jealous than our own, 371
From the green margin of the public way,
A residence afford them, 'mid the bloom
And gaiety of cultivated fields.
Such (we will hope the lowest in the scale) 375
Do I remember oft-times to have seen
'Mid Buxton's dreary heights.[KE] In earnest watch,[772]
Till the swift vehicle approach, they stand;
Then, following closely with the cloud of dust,
An uncouth feat exhibit, and are gone 380
Heels over head, like tumblers on a stage.
--Up from the ground they snatch the copper coin,
And, on the freight of merry passengers
Fixing a steady eye, maintain their speed;
And spin--and pant--and overhead again, 385
Wild pursuivants! until their breath is lost,
Or bounty tires--and every face, that smiled
Encouragement, hath ceased to look that way.
--But, like the vagrants of the gipsy tribe,
These, bred to little pleasure in themselves, 390
Are profitless to others.
"Turn we then
To Britons born and bred within the pale
Of civil polity, and early trained
To earn, by wholesome labour in the field,
The bread they eat. A sample should I give 395
Of what this stock hath long produced to enrich
The tender age of life, ye would exclaim,[773]
'Is this the whistling plough-boy whose shrill notes
Impart new gladness to the morning air!'
Forgive me if I venture to suspect 400
That many, sweet to hear of in soft verse,
Are of no finer frame. Stiff are his joints;[774]
Beneath a cumbrous frock, that to the knees
Invests the thriving churl, his legs appear,
Fellows to those that[775] lustily upheld 405
The wooden stools for everlasting use,
Whereon[776] our fathers sate. And mark his brow!
Under whose shaggy canopy are set
Two eyes--not dim, but of a healthy[777] stare--
Wide, sluggish, blank, and ignorant, and strange--
Proclaiming boldly that they never drew 411
A look or motion of intelligence
From infant-conning of the Christ-cross-row,[KF]
Or puzzling through a primer, line by line,
Till perfect mastery crown the pains at last. 415
--What kindly warmth from touch of fostering hand,
What penetrating power of sun or breeze,
Shall e'er dissolve the crust wherein his soul
Sleeps, like a caterpillar sheathed in ice?
This torpor is no pitiable work 420
Of modern ingenuity; no town
Nor crowded city can[778] be taxed with aught
Of sottish vice or desperate breach of law,
To which (and who can tell where or how soon?)
He may be roused. This Boy the fields produce: 425
His spade and hoe, mattock and glittering scythe,[779]
The carter's whip that[780] on his shoulder rests
In air high-towering with a boorish pomp,
The sceptre of his sway; his country's name,
Her equal rights, her churches and her schools-- 430
What have they done for him? And, let me ask,
For tens of thousands uninformed as he?
In brief, what liberty of _mind_[781] is here?"

This ardent[782] sally pleased the mild good Man,
To whom the appeal couched in its[783] closing words 435
Was pointedly addressed; and to the thoughts
That,[784] in assent or opposition, rose
Within his mind, he seemed prepared to give
Prompt utterance; but the Vicar interposed[785]
With invitation urgently[786] renewed. 440
--We followed, taking as he led, a path
Along a hedge of hollies dark and tall,[787][KG]
Whose flexile boughs low bending with a weight[788]
Of leafy spray, concealed the stems and roots
That gave them nourishment. When frosty winds 445
Howl from the north, what kindly warmth, methought,
Is here--how grateful this impervious screen![789]
--Not shaped by simple wearing of the foot
On rural business passing to and fro
Was the commodious walk: a careful hand 450
Had marked the line, and strewn its[790] surface o'er
With pure cerulean gravel,[KH] from the heights
Fetched by a[791] neighbouring brook.--Across the vale
The stately fence accompanied our steps;
And thus the pathway, by perennial green 455
Guarded and graced, seemed fashioned to unite,
As by a beautiful yet solemn chain,
The Pastor's mansion with the house of prayer.