Chapter XVI: Part IV (3)

[741] How much the Broach is sometimes prized by persons in humble stations may be gathered from an occurrence mentioned to me by a female friend. She had had an opportunity of benefiting a poor old woman in her own hut, who, wishing to make a return, said to her daughter in Erse, in a tone of plaintive earnestness, "I would give anything I have, but I _hope_ she does not wish for my Broach!" and, uttering these words, she put her hand upon the Broach which fastened her kerchief, and which, she imagined, had attracted the eye of her benefactress.--W. W. 1835.

1832

The poems written in 1832 were few. They include _Devotional Incitements_, an _Evening Voluntary_, _Rural Illusions_, and a few sonnets.--ED.

DEVOTIONAL INCITEMENTS

Composed 1832.--Published 1835

[Written at Rydal Mount.--I. F.]

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

"Not to the earth confined,
Ascend to heaven."[742]

Where will they stop, those breathing Powers,
The Spirits of the new-born flowers?
They wander with the breeze, they wind
Where'er the streams a passage find;
Up from their native ground they rise 5
In mute aërial harmonies;[743]
From humble violet--modest thyme--
Exhaled, the essential odours climb,
As if no space below the sky
Their subtle flight could satisfy: 10
Heaven will not tax our thoughts with pride
If like ambition be _their_ guide.

Roused by this kindliest of May-showers,
The spirit-quickener of the flowers,
That with moist virtue softly cleaves 15
The buds, and freshens the young leaves,
The birds pour forth their souls in notes
Of rapture from a thousand throats--
Here checked by too impetuous haste,
While there the music runs to waste, 20
With bounty more and more enlarged,
Till the whole air is overcharged;
Give ear, O Man! to their appeal
And thirst for no inferior zeal,
Thou, who canst _think_, as well as feel. 25

Mount from the earth; aspire! aspire!
So pleads the town's cathedral quire,
In strains that from their solemn height
Sink, to attain a loftier flight;
While incense from the altar breathes 30
Rich fragrance in embodied wreaths;
Or, flung from swinging censer, shrouds
The taper-lights, and curls in clouds
Around angelic Forms, the still
Creation of the painter's skill, 35
That on the service wait concealed
One moment, and the next revealed.
--Cast off your bonds, awake, arise,
And for no transient ecstasies!
What else can mean the visual plea 40
Of still or moving imagery--
The iterated summons loud,
Not wasted on the attendant crowd,
Nor wholly lost upon the throng
Hurrying the busy streets along? 45
Alas! the sanctities combined
By art to unsensualise the mind,
Decay and languish; or, as creeds
And humours change, are spurned like weeds:
The priests are from their altars thrust; 50
Temples are levelled with the dust;
And solemn rites and awful forms
Founder amid fanatic storms.[744][745]
Yet evermore, through years renewed
In undisturbed vicissitude 55
Of seasons balancing their flight
On the swift wings of day and night,
Kind Nature keeps a heavenly door
Wide open for the scattered Poor.
Where flower-breathed incense to the skies 60
Is wafted in mute harmonies;
And ground fresh-cloven by the plough
Is fragrant with a humbler vow;
Where birds and brooks from leafy dells
Chime forth unwearied canticles, 65
And vapours magnify and spread
The glory of the sun's bright head--
Still constant in her worship, still
Conforming to the eternal Will,[746]
Whether men sow or reap the fields, 70
Divine monition[747] Nature yields,
That not by bread alone we live,
Or what a hand of flesh can give;
That every day should leave some part
Free for a sabbath of the heart: 75
So shall the seventh be truly blest,
From morn to eve, with hallowed rest.

FOOTNOTES:

[742] See _Paradise Lost_, book v. ll. 78-80--

Not to Earth confined,
But sometimes in the Air, as we; sometimes
Ascend to heaven.

ED.

[743] Compare, in Bacon's _Essays_, No. 46, 'Of Gardens,' "The _Breath_ of Flowers is farre Sweeter in the Aire, when it comes and goes, like the Warbling of Musick."--ED.

[744] 1836.

The solemn rites, the awful forms,
Founder amid fanatic storms;
The priests are from their altars thrust,
The temples levelled with the dust: 1835.

[745] Compare a passage in Daniel's _Musopilus_, beginning--

Sacred Religion! mother of form and fear!
How gorgeously sometimes dost thou sit decked!--ED.

[746] 1836.

... almighty Will, 1835.

[747] 1845.

Her admonitions Nature yields; 1835.
Divine admonishment She yields, 1836.

"CALM IS THE FRAGRANT AIR, AND LOTH TO LOSE"

Composed 1832.--Published 1835

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

Calm is the fragrant air, and loth to lose
Day's grateful warmth, tho' moist with falling dews.
Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none;
Look up a second time, and, one by one,
You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, 5
And wonder how they could elude the sight!
The birds, of late so noisy in their bowers,
Warbled a while with faint and fainter powers,
But now are silent as the dim-seen flowers:
Nor does the village Church-clock's iron tone 10
The time's and season's influence disown;
Nine beats distinctly to each other bound
In drowsy sequence--how unlike the sound
That, in rough winter, oft inflicts a fear
On fireside listeners, doubting what they hear! 15
The shepherd, bent on rising with the sun,
Had closed his door before the day was done,
And now with thankful heart to bed doth creep,
And joins[748] his little children in their sleep.
The bat, lured forth where trees the lane o'ershade, 20
Flits and reflits along the close arcade;
The busy[749] dor-hawk chases the white moth
With burring note, which Industry and Sloth
Might both be pleased with, for it suits them both.
A stream is heard--I see it not, but know 25
By its soft music whence the waters flow:
Wheels[750] and the tread of hoofs are heard no more;
One boat there was, but it will touch the shore
With the next dipping of its slackened oar;
Faint sound, that, for the gayest of the gay, 30
Might give to serious thought a moment's sway,
As a last token of man's toilsome day!

FOOTNOTES:

[748] 1837.

And join ... 1835.

[749] 1837.

Far-heard the ... 1835.

[750] 1837.

... both.
Wheels ... 1835.

TO THE AUTHOR'S PORTRAIT

Painted at Rydal Mount, by W. Pickersgill, Esq., for St. John's College, Cambridge.--ED.

Composed 1832.--Published 1835

[The last six lines of this Sonnet are not written for poetical effect, but as a matter of fact, which, in more than one instance, could not escape my notice in the servants of the house.--I. F.]

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

Go, faithful Portrait! and where long hath knelt
Margaret, the saintly Foundress, take thy place;
And, if Time spare the colours[751] for the grace
Which to the work surpassing skill hath dealt,
Thou, on thy rock reclined, though kingdoms melt 5
And states be torn up by the roots,[752] wilt seem
To breathe in rural peace, to hear the stream,[753]
And[754] think and feel as once the Poet felt.
Whate'er thy fate, those features have not grown
Unrecognised through many a household tear[755] 10
More prompt, more glad, to fall than drops of dew
By morning shed around a flower half-blown;
Tears of delight, that testified how true
To life thou art, and, in thy truth, how dear!

FOOTNOTES:

[751] The colour has already faded somewhat. The portrait is reproduced in volume vi. of this edition.--ED.

[752] Compare _Elegiac Musings_, p. 269.--ED.

[753] 1835.

Before the breath of change unchanged wilt seem,
Green Hills in sight, and listening to the stream,

MS.

[754] 1837.

To ... 1835.

[755] 1835.

... falling tear

MS.

... starting tear

MS.

RURAL ILLUSIONS

Composed 1832.--Published 1835

[Written at Rydal Mount. Observed a hundred times in the grounds there.--I. F.]

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

Sylph was it? or a Bird more bright
Than those of fabulous stock?
A second darted by;--and lo!
Another of the flock,
Through sunshine flitting from the bough 5
To nestle in the rock.
Transient deception! a gay freak
Of April's mimicries!
Those brilliant strangers, hailed with joy
Among the budding trees, 10
Proved last year's leaves, pushed from the spray
To frolic on the breeze.

Maternal Flora! show thy face,
And let thy hand be seen,
Thy hand here sprinkling tiny flowers,[756] 15
That, as they touch the green,
Take root (so seems it) and look up
In honour of their Queen.
Yet, sooth, those little starry specks,
That not in vain aspired 20
To be confounded with live growths,
Most dainty, most admired,
Were only blossoms dropped from twigs
Of their own offspring tired.

Not such the World's illusive shows; 25
_Her_ wingless flutterings,
Her blossoms which, though shed, outbrave
The floweret as it springs,
For the undeceived, smile as they may,
Are melancholy things: 30
But gentle Nature plays her part
With ever-varying wiles,
And transient feignings with plain truth
So well she reconciles,
That those fond Idlers most are pleased 35
Whom oftenest she beguiles.

FOOTNOTES:

[756] 1836.

Which sprinkles here these tiny flowers, 1835.

LOVING AND LIKING

IRREGULAR VERSES
ADDRESSED TO A CHILD

(BY MY SISTER)[757]

Composed 1832.--Published 1835.

[Written at Rydal Mount. It arose, I believe, out of a casual expression of one of Mr. Swinburne's children.--I. F.]

One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."--ED.

There's more in words than I can teach:
Yet listen, Child!--I would not preach;
But only give some plain directions
To guide your speech and your affections.
Say not you _love_ a roasted fowl, 5
But you may love a screaming owl,
And, if you can, the unwieldy toad
That crawls from his secure abode
Within the mossy garden wall
When evening dews begin to fall. 10
Oh mark the beauty of his eye:
What wonders in that circle lie!
So clear, so bright, our fathers said
He wears a jewel in his head!
And when, upon some showery day, 15
Into a path or public way
A frog leaps out from bordering grass,
Startling the timid as they pass,
Do you observe him, and endeavour
To take the intruder into favour; 20
Learning from him to find a reason
For a light heart in a dull season.
And you may love him in the pool,
That is for him a happy school,
In which he swims as taught by nature, 25
Fit[758] pattern for a human creature,
Glancing amid the water bright,
And sending upward sparkling light.

Nor blush if o'er your heart be stealing
A love for things that have no feeling: 30
The spring's first rose by you espied,
May fill your breast with joyful pride;
And you may love the strawberry-flower,
And love the strawberry in its bower;
But when the fruit, so often praised 35
For beauty, to your lip is raised,
Say not you _love_ the delicate treat,
But _like_ it, enjoy it, and thankfully eat.

Long may you love your pensioner mouse,
Though one of a tribe that torment the house: 40
Nor dislike for her cruel sport the cat,
Deadly foe both of[759] mouse and rat;
Remember she follows the law of her kind,
And Instinct is neither wayward nor blind.
Then think of her beautiful gliding form, 45
Her tread that would scarcely[760] crush a worm,
And her soothing song by the winter fire,
Soft as the dying throb of the lyre.

I would not circumscribe your love:
It may soar with the eagle and brood with the dove, 50
May pierce the earth with the patient mole,
Or track the hedgehog to his hole.
Loving and liking are the solace of life,
Rock the cradle of joy, smooth the death-bed of strife.[761]
You love your father and your mother, 55
Your grown-up and your baby-brother;
You love your sister, and your friends,
And countless blessings which God sends:
And while these right affections play,
You _live_ each moment of your day; 60
They lead you on to full content,
And likings fresh and innocent,
That store the mind, the memory feed,
And prompt to many a gentle deed:
But _likings_ come, and pass away; 65
'Tis _love_ that remains till our latest day:
Our heavenward guide is holy love,
And will[762] be our bliss with saints above.

FOOTNOTES:

[757] 1845.

In the former editions of the author's "Miscellaneous Poems" are three pieces addressed to Children:--the following, a few lines excepted, is by the same Writer; and as it belongs to the same unassuming class of compositions, she has been prevailed upon to consent to its publication.

W. W. 1835.

By the author of the Poem, "Address to a child, during a boisterous winter evening."

W. W. 1836.

[758] 1845.

A ... 1835.

[759] 1845.

That deadly foe of both ... 1835.

That deadly foe both of ... 1836.

[760] 1836.

... not ... 1835.

[761] 1840.

They foster all joy, and extinguish all strife. 1835.

[762] 1845.

And it will ... 1835.

UPON THE LATE GENERAL FAST[763]

MARCH, 1832

Composed 1832.--Published 1832

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order."--ED.

Reluctant call it was; the rite delayed;
And in the Senate some there were who doffed
The last of their humanity, and scoffed
At providential judgments,[764] undismayed
By their own daring. But the People prayed 5
As with one voice; their flinty heart grew soft
With penitential sorrow, and aloft
Their spirit mounted, crying, "God us aid!"
Oh that with aspirations more intense,
Chastised by self-abasement more profound, 10
This People, once[765] so happy, so renowned
For liberty, would seek from God defence
Against far heavier ill, the pestilence[766]
Of revolution, impiously unbound!

FOOTNOTES:

[763] 1837.

The title in 1832 was SONNET ON THE LATE GENERAL FAST, MARCH 21, 1832.

[764] 1840.

... judgment, ... 1832.

[765] 1837.

Oh that with soul-aspirings more intense
And heart-humiliations more profound
This People, long ... 1832.

[766] The fast was appointed because of an outbreak of cholera in England.--ED.

1833

The most important of the poems written in 1833 were the Memorials of the Tour undertaken during the summer of that year. They refer to several Cumbrian localities, to the Isle of Man, to the Clyde, the Western Islands of Scotland, and again to Cumberland.--ED.

A WREN'S NEST

Composed 1833.--Published 1835

[Written at Rydal Mount. This nest was built, as described, in a tree that grows near the pool in Dora's field, next the Rydal Mount garden.[767]--I. F.]

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

Among the dwellings framed by birds
In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little Wren's
In snugness may compare.

No door the tenement requires, 5
And seldom needs a laboured roof;
Yet is it to the fiercest sun
Impervious, and storm-proof.

So warm, so beautiful withal,
In perfect fitness for its aim, 10
That to the Kind by special grace
Their instinct surely came.

And when for their abodes they seek
An opportune recess,
The hermit has no finer eye 15
For shadowy quietness.

These find, 'mid ivied abbey-walls,
A canopy in some still nook;
Others are pent-housed by a brae
That overhangs a brook. 20

There to the brooding bird her mate
Warbles by fits his low clear song;
And by the busy streamlet both
Are sung to all day long.

Or in sequestered lanes they build, 25
Where, till the flitting bird's return,
Her eggs within the nest repose,
Like relics in an urn.

But still, where general choice is good,
There is a better and a best; 30
And, among fairest objects, some
Are fairer than the rest;

This, one of those small builders proved
In a green covert, where, from out
The forehead of a pollard oak, 35
The leafy antlers sprout;

For She who planned the mossy lodge,
Mistrusting her evasive skill,
Had to a Primrose looked for aid
Her wishes to fulfil. 40

High on the trunk's projecting brow
And fixed an infant's span above
The budding flowers, peeped forth the nest,
The prettiest of the grove!

The treasure proudly did I show 45
To some whose minds without disdain
Can turn to little things; but once
Looked up for it in vain:

'Tis gone--a ruthless spoiler's prey,
Who heeds not beauty, love, or song, 50
'Tis gone! (so seemed it) and we grieved
Indignant at the wrong.

Just three days after, passing by
In clearer light the moss-built cell
I saw, espied its shaded mouth; 55
And felt that all was well.

The Primrose for a veil had spread
The largest of her upright leaves;
And thus, for purposes benign,
A simple flower deceives. 60

Concealed from friends who might disturb
Thy quiet with no ill intent,
Secure from evil eyes and hands
On barbarous plunder bent,

Rest, Mother-bird! and when thy young 65
Take flight, and thou art free to roam,
When withered is the guardian Flower,
And empty thy late home,

Think how ye prospered, thou and thine,
Amid the unviolated grove 70
Housed near the growing Primrose-tuft
In foresight, or in love.

FOOTNOTES:

[767] Wrens still build (1896) in the same pollard oak tree, which survives in "Dora's Field"; and primroses grow beneath it.--ED.

TO ----

UPON THE BIRTH OF HER FIRST-BORN CHILD, MARCH, 1833

"Tum porro puer, ut sævis projectus ab undis
Navita, nudus humi jacet," etc.--LUCRETIUS.[768]

Composed March 1833.--Published 1835

[Written at Moresby near Whitehaven, when I was on a visit to my son, then incumbent of that small living. While I am dictating these notes to my friend, Miss Fenwick, January 24, 1843, the child upon whose birth these verses were written is under my roof, and is of a disposition so promising that the wishes and prayers and prophecies which I then breathed forth in verse are, through God's mercy, likely to be realised.--I. F.]

One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--ED.

Like a shipwreck'd Sailor tost
By rough waves on a perilous coast,
Lies the Babe, in helplessness
And in tenderest nakedness,
Flung by labouring nature forth 5
Upon the mercies of the earth.
Can its eyes beseech?--no more
Than the hands are free to implore:
Voice but serves for one brief cry;
Plaint was it? or prophecy 10
Of sorrow that will surely come?
Omen of man's grievous doom!

But, O Mother! by the close
Duly granted to thy throes;
By the silent thanks, now tending 15
Incense-like to Heaven, descending
Now to mingle and to move
With the gush of earthly love,
As a debt to that frail Creature,
Instrument of struggling Nature 20
For the blissful calm, the peace
Known but to this _one_ release--
Can the pitying spirit doubt
That for human-kind springs out
From the penalty a sense 25
Of more than mortal recompense?

As a floating summer cloud,
Though of gorgeous drapery proud,
To the sun-burnt traveller,
Or the stooping labourer, 30
Oft-times makes its bounty known
By its shadow round him thrown;
So, by chequerings of sad cheer,
Heavenly Guardians, brooding near,
Of their presence tell--too bright 35
Haply for corporeal sight!
Ministers of grace divine
Feelingly their brows incline
O'er this seeming Castaway
Breathing, in the light of day, 40
Something like the faintest breath
That has power to baffle death--
Beautiful, while very weakness
Captivates like passive meekness.

And, sweet Mother! under warrant 45
Of the universal Parent,
Who repays in season due
Them who have, like thee, been true
To the filial chain let down
From his everlasting throne,[769] 50
Angels hovering round thy couch,
With their softest whispers vouch,
That--whatever griefs may fret,
Cares entangle, sins beset,
This thy First-born, and with tears 55
Stain her cheek in future years--
Heavenly succour, not denied
To the babe, whate'er betide,
Will to the woman be supplied!

Mother! blest be thy calm ease; 60
Blest the starry promises,--
And the firmament benign
Hallowed be it, where they shine!
Yes, for them whose souls have scope
Ample for a wingèd hope, 65
And can earthward bend an ear
For needful listening, pledge is here,
That, if thy new-born Charge shall tread
In thy footsteps, and be led
By that other Guide, whose light 70
Of manly virtues, mildly bright,
Gave him first the wished-for part
In thy gentle virgin heart;
Then, amid the storms of life
Presignified by that dread strife 75
Whence ye have escaped together,
She may look for serene weather;
In all trials sure to find
Comfort for a faithful mind;
Kindlier issues, holier rest, 80
Than even now await her prest,
Conscious Nursling, to thy breast!

FOOTNOTES:

[768] See _De Rerum Naturae_, lib. v. ll. 222-3.--ED.

[769] Compare _The Primrose of the Rock_, ll. 11-12.--ED.

THE WARNING

A SEQUEL TO THE FOREGOING

Composed March 1833.--Published 1835

[These lines were composed during the fever spread through the nation by the Reform Bill. As the motives which led to this measure, and the good or evil which has attended or has risen from it, will be duly appreciated by future historians, there is no call for dwelling on the subject in this place. I will content myself with saying that the then condition of the people's mind is not, in these verses, exaggerated.--I. F.]

One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--ED.

List, the winds of March are blowing;
Her ground-flowers shrink, afraid of showing
Their meek heads to the nipping air,
Which ye feel not, happy pair!
Sunk into a kindly sleep. 5
We, meanwhile, our hope will keep;
And if Time leagued with adverse Change
(Too busy fear!) shall cross its range,
Whatsoever check they bring,
Anxious duty hindering, 10
To like hope[770] our prayers will cling.

Thus, while the ruminating spirit feeds
Upon the events of home[771] as life proceeds,
Affections pure and holy in their source
Gain a fresh impulse, run a livelier course; 15
Hopes that within the Father's heart prevail,
Are in the experienced Grandsire's slow to fail;
And if the harp pleased his gay youth, it rings
To his grave touch with no unready strings,
While thoughts press on, and feelings overflow, 20
And quick words round him fall like flakes of snow.[772]

Thanks to the Powers that yet maintain their sway,
And have renewed the tributary Lay.
Truths of the heart flock in with eager pace,
And FANCY greets them with a fond embrace; 25
Swift as the rising sun his beams extends
She shoots the tidings forth to distant friends;
Their gifts she hails (deemed precious, as they prove
For the unconscious Babe so prompt a love!)--[773]
But from this peaceful centre of delight 30
Vague sympathies have urged her to take flight:
Rapt[774] into upper regions, like the bee
That sucks from mountain heath her honey fee;
Or, like the warbling lark intent to shroud
His head in sunbeams or a bowery cloud, 35
She soars--and here and there her pinions rest
On proud towers, like this humble cottage, blest
With a new visitant, an infant guest--
Towers where red streamers flout the breezy sky
In pomp foreseen by her creative eye, 40
When feasts shall crowd the hall, and steeple bells
Glad proclamation make, and heights and dells
Catch the blithe music as it sinks and swells,[775]
And harboured ships, whose pride is on the sea,
Shall hoist their topmost flags in sign of glee, 45
Honouring the hope of noble ancestry.

But who (though neither reckoning ills assigned
By Nature, nor reviewing in the mind
The track that was, and is, and must be, worn
With weary feet by all of woman born)-- 50
Shall _now_ by such a gift with joy be moved,
Nor feel the fulness of that joy reproved?
Not He, whose last faint memory will command
The truth that Britain was his native land;[776]
Whose infant soul was tutored to confide 55
In the cleansed faith for which her martyrs died;
Whose boyish ear the voice of her renown
With rapture thrilled; whose Youth revered the crown
Of Saxon liberty that Alfred wore,[777]
Alfred, dear Babe, thy great Progenitor! 60
--Not He, who from her mellowed practice drew
His social sense of just, and fair, and true;
And saw, thereafter, on the soil of France
Rash Polity begin her maniac dance,[778]
Foundations broken up, the deeps run wild, 65
Nor grieved to see (himself not unbeguiled)--
Woke from the dream, the dreamer to upbraid,
And learn how sanguine expectations fade
When novel trusts by folly are betrayed,--
To see Presumption, turning pale, refrain 70
From further havoc, but repent in vain,--
Good aims lie down, and perish in the road
Where guilt had urged them on with ceaseless goad.
Proofs thickening round her that on public ends
Domestic virtue vitally depends, 75
That civic strife can turn the happiest hearth
Into a grievous sore of self-tormenting earth.[779]

Can such a One, dear Babe! though glad and proud
To welcome thee, repel the fears that crowd
Into his English breast, and spare to quake 80
Less for his own than[780] for thy innocent sake?
Too late--or, should the providence of God
Lead, through dark[781] ways by sin and sorrow trod,
Justice and peace to a secure abode,
Too soon--thou com'st into this breathing world; 85
Ensigns of mimic outrage are unfurled.
Who shall preserve or prop the tottering Realm?
What hand suffice to govern the state-helm?
If, in the aims of men, the surest test
Of good or bad (whate'er be sought for or profest) 90
Lie in the means required, or ways ordained,
For compassing the end, else never gained;
Yet governors and govern'd both are blind
To this plain truth, or fling it to the wind;
If to expedience principle must bow; 95
Past, future, shrinking up beneath the incumbent Now;
If cowardly concession still must feed
The thirst for power in men who ne'er concede;
Nor turn aside, unless to shape a way
For domination at some riper day; 100
If[782] generous Loyalty must stand in awe
Of subtle Treason, in[783] his mask of law,
Or with bravado insolent and hard,
Provoking punishment, to win reward;
If office help the factious to conspire, 105
And they who _should_ extinguish, fan the fire--
Then, will the sceptre be a straw, the crown
Sit loosely, like the thistle's crest of down;
To be blown off at will, by Power that spares it
In cunning patience, from the head that wears it. 110

Lost people, trained to theoretic feud!
Lost above all, ye labouring multitude!
Bewildered whether ye, by slanderous tongues
Deceived, mistake calamities for wrongs;
And over fancied usurpations brood, 115
Oft snapping at revenge in sullen mood;
Or, from long stress of real injuries fly
To desperation for a remedy;
In bursts of outrage spread your judgments wide,
And to your wrath cry out, "Be thou our guide;" 120
Or, bound by oaths, come forth to tread earth's floor
In marshalled thousands, darkening street and moor
With the worst shape mock-patience ever wore;
Or, to the giddy top of self-esteem
By Flatterers carried, mount into a dream 125
Of boundless suffrage, at whose sage behest
Justice shall rule, disorder be supprest,
And every man sit down as Plenty's Guest!
--O for a bridle bitted with remorse
To stop your Loaders in their headstrong course![784] 130
Oh may the Almighty scatter with his grace
These mists, and lead you to a safer place,
By paths no human wisdom can foretrace!
May He pour round you, from worlds far above
Man's feverish passions, his pure light of love, 135
That quietly restores the natural mien
To hope, and makes truth willing to be seen!
_Else_ shall your blood-stained hands in frenzy reap
Fields gaily sown when promises were cheap.--
Why is the Past belied with wicked art, 140
The Future made to play so false a part,
Among a people famed for strength of mind,
Foremost in freedom, noblest of mankind?
We act as if we joyed in the sad tune
Storms make in rising, valued in the moon 145
Nought but her changes. Thus, ungrateful Nation!
If thou persist, and, scorning moderation,
Spread for thyself the snares of tribulation,
Whom, then, shall meekness guard? What saving skill
Lie in forbearance, strength in standing still? 150
--Soon shall the widow (for the speed of Time
Nought equals when the hours are winged with crime)
Widow, or wife, implore on tremulous knee,
From him who judged her lord, a like decree;
The skies will weep o'er old men desolate: 155
Ye little-ones! Earth shudders at your fate,
Outcasts and homeless orphans----

But turn, my Soul, and from the sleeping pair
Learn thou the beauty of omniscient care!
Be strong in faith, bid anxious thoughts lie still; 160
Seek for the good and cherish it--the ill
Oppose, or bear with a submissive will.

FOOTNOTES:

[770] 1835.

To that hope ... C.

[771] 1837.

Upon each home-event ... 1835.

[772] "_The Warning_ was composed on horseback when I was riding from Moresby in a snow-storm."--(W. W. to his nephew, the late Bishop of Lincoln.)

[773] 1840.

... Babe an unbelated love!) 1835.

... so prompt to love.) C.

[774] 1837.

... flight.
She rivals the fleet Swallow, making rings
In the smooth lake where'er he dips his wings:
--Rapt ... 1835.

[775] 1837.

... or swells; 1835.

[776] Compare _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_, canto vi. ll. 1-3.--ED.

[777] Compare "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," Part I. XXVI., XXVII.--ED.

[778] At the Revolution, 1792.--ED.

[779] 1840.

Till undiscriminating Ruin swept
The Land, and Wrong perpetual vigils kept;
With proof before her that on public ends
Domestic virtue vitally depends. 1835.

And civic strife, by hourly calling forth
Mutual despite, can turn the happiest hearth
Into a rankling sore of self-tormented earth. C.

[780] 1840.

Not for his own, but ... 1835.

[781] 1840.

... blind ... 1835.

[782] 1837.

... concede;
If ... 1835.

[783] 1837.

... with ... 1835.

[784] See the Fenwick note prefixed to the poem.--ED.

"IF THIS GREAT WORLD OF JOY AND PAIN"

Composed 1833.--Published 1835

One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--ED.

If this great world of joy and pain
Revolve in one sure track;
If freedom, set, will rise again,
And virtue, flown, come back;
Woe to the purblind crew who fill 5
The heart with each day's care;
Nor gain, from past or future, skill
To bear, and to forbear!

ON A HIGH PART OF THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND[785]

Easter Sunday, April 7

THE AUTHOR'S SIXTY-THIRD BIRTH-DAY

Composed 1833.--Published 1835

[The lines were composed on the road between Moresby and Whitehaven while I was on a visit to my son, then rector of the former place. This succession of Voluntaries, with the exception of the 8th and 9th, originated in the concluding lines of the last paragraph of this poem. With this coast I have been familiar from my earliest childhood, and remember being struck for the first time by the town and port of Whitehaven and the white waves breaking against its quays and piers, as the whole came into view from the top of the high ground down which the road (it has since been altered) then descended abruptly. My sister, when she first heard the voice of the sea from this point, and beheld the scene before her, burst into tears. Our family then lived at Cockermouth, and this fact was often mentioned among us as indicating the sensibility for which she was so remarkable.--I. F.]

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

The Sun, that seemed so mildly to retire,
Flung back from distant climes a streaming fire,
Whose blaze is now subdued to tender gleams,
Prelude of night's approach with soothing dreams.
Look round;--of all the clouds not one is moving; 5
'Tis the still hour of thinking, feeling, loving.
Silent, and stedfast as the vaulted sky,
The boundless plain of waters seems to lie:--
Comes that low sound from breezes rustling o'er
The grass-crowned headland that conceals the shore?
No; 'tis the earth-voice of the mighty sea, 11
Whispering how meek and gentle he _can_ be![786]

Thou Power supreme! who, arming to rebuke
Offenders, dost put off the gracious look,
And clothe thyself with terrors like the flood 15
Of ocean roused into his fiercest mood,
Whatever discipline thy Will ordain
For the brief course that must for me remain;
Teach me with quick-eared spirit to rejoice
In admonitions of thy softest voice! 20
Whate'er the path these mortal feet may trace,
Breathe through my soul the blessing of thy grace,
Glad, through a perfect love, a faith sincere
Drawn from the wisdom that begins with fear,
Glad to expand; and, for a season, free 25
From finite cares, to rest absorbed in Thee!

FOOTNOTES:

[785] 1837.

In 1835 the title was "The Sun, that seemed so mildly to retire."

[786] Compare the _Elegiac Stanzas, suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle, in a Storm_ (1805), vol. iii. p. 54; also the sonnet (written in 1807), "_Two Voices are there; one is of the sea_," vol. iv. p. 61, and the second sonnet on the _Cave of Staffa_, in the poems descriptive of the tour in Scotland in 1833.--ED.

(BY THE SEA-SIDE)

Composed 1833.--Published 1835

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

The sun is couched, the sea-fowl gone to rest;
And the wild storm hath somewhere found a nest;
Air slumbers--wave with wave no longer strives,
Only a heaving of the deep survives,[787]
A tell-tale motion! soon will it be laid, 5
And by the tide alone the water swayed.
Stealthy withdrawings, interminglings mild
Of light with shade in beauty reconciled--
Such is the prospect far as sight can range,
The soothing recompense, the welcome change. 10
Where now the ships that drove before the blast,
Threatened by angry breakers as they passed;
And by a train of flying clouds bemocked;
Or, in the hollow surge, at anchor rocked
As on a bed of death? Some lodge in peace, 15
Saved by His care who bade the tempest cease;
And some, too heedless of past danger, court
Fresh gales to waft them to the far-off port;
But near, or hanging sea and sky between,
Not one of all those wingèd powers is seen, 20
Seen in her course, nor 'mid this quiet heard;
Yet oh! how gladly would the air be stirred
By some acknowledgment of thanks and praise,
Soft in its temper as those vesper lays
Sung to the Virgin while accordant oars 25
Urge the slow bark along Calabrian shores;
A sea-born service through the mountains felt
Till into one loved vision all things melt:
Or like those hymns that soothe with graver sound
The gulfy coast of Norway iron-bound; 30
And, from the wide and open Baltic, rise
With punctual care, Lutherian harmonies.
Hush, not a voice is here! but why repine,
Now when the star of eve comes forth to shine
On British waters with that look benign?[788] 35
Ye mariners, that plough your onward way,
Or in the haven rest, or sheltering bay,
May silent thanks at least to God be given
With a full heart; "our thoughts are _heard_ in heaven!"[789]

FOOTNOTES:

[787] Compare the previous poem.--ED.

[788] Compare Robert Browning's _Home-thoughts from the Sea_--

While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.--ED.

[789] See Young's _Night Thoughts_, book ii. l. 95.--ED.

COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SHORE

Composed 1834.--Published 1845

[These lines were suggested during my residence under my son's roof at Moresby, on the coast near Whitehaven, at the time when I was composing those verses among the "Evening Voluntaries" that have reference to the sea. It was in that neighbourhood I first became acquainted with the ocean and its appearances and movements. My infancy and early childhood were passed at Cockermouth, about eight miles from the coast, and I well remember that mysterious awe with which I used to listen to anything said about storms and shipwrecks. Sea-shells of many descriptions were common in the town; and I was not a little surprised when I heard that Mr. Landor[790] had denounced me as a plagiarist from himself for having described a boy applying a sea-shell to his ear and listening to it for intimations of what was going on in its native element. This I had done myself scores of times, and it was a belief among us that we could know from the sound whether the tide was ebbing or flowing.--I.F.]

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

What mischief cleaves to unsubdued regret,
How fancy sickens by vague hopes beset;
How baffled projects on the spirit prey,
And fruitless wishes eat the heart away,
The Sailor knows; he best, whose lot is cast 5
On the relentless sea that holds him fast
On chance dependent, and the fickle star
Of power, through long and melancholy war.
O sad it is, in sight of foreign shores,
Daily to think on old familiar doors, 10
Hearths loved in childhood, and ancestral floors;
Or, tossed about along a waste of foam,
To ruminate on that delightful home,
Which with the dear Betrothèd _was_ to come;
Or came and was and is, yet meets the eye 15
Never but in the world of memory;
Or in a dream recalled, whose smoothest range
Is crossed by knowledge, or by dread, of change,
And if not so, whose perfect joy makes sleep
A thing too bright for breathing man to keep. 20
Hail to the virtues which that perilous life
Extracts from Nature's elemental strife;
And welcome glory won in battles fought
As bravely as the foe was keenly sought.
But to each gallant Captain and his crew 25
A less imperious sympathy is due,
Such as my verse now yields, while moonbeams play
On the mute sea in this unruffled bay;
Such as will promptly flow from every breast,
Where good men, disappointed in the quest 30
Of wealth and power and honours, long for rest;
Or, having known the splendours of success,
Sigh for the obscurities of happiness.

FOOTNOTES:

[790] The passage in Landor's _Gebir_, book i., is quoted in a note to the fourth book of _The Excursion_ (see vol. v. p. 188).--ED.

POEMS,[791]

COMPOSED OR SUGGESTED DURING A TOUR, IN THE SUMMER OF 1833

Composed 1833.--Published 1835

Having been prevented by the lateness of the season, in 1831, from visiting Staffa and Iona, the author made these the principal objects of a short tour in the summer of 1833, of which the following series of poems is a Memorial. The course pursued was down the Cumberland river Derwent, and to Whitehaven; thence (by the Isle of Man, where a few days were passed) up the Frith of Clyde to Greenock, then to Oban, Staffa, Iona; and back towards England by Loch Awe, Inverary, Loch Goilhead, Greenock, and through parts of Renfrewshire, Ayrshire, and Dumfries-shire to Carlisle, and thence up the river Eden, and homewards by Ullswater.--W. W.

[My companions were H. C. Robinson and my son John.--I. F.]

FOOTNOTES:

[791] 1845.

The Title in the 1835 edition was Sonnets composed or suggested during a tour in Scotland, in the Summer of 1833.

I

ADIEU, RYDALIAN LAURELS! THAT HAVE GROWN

Adieu, Rydalian Laurels! that have grown
And spread as if ye knew that days might come
When ye would shelter in a happy home,
On this fair Mount, a Poet of your own,
One who ne'er ventured for a Delphic crown 5
To sue the God; but, haunting your green shade[792]
All seasons through, is humbly pleased to braid[793]
Ground-flowers, beneath your guardianship, self-sown.[794]
Farewell! no Minstrels now with harp new-strung
For summer wandering quit their household bowers;
Yet not for this wants Poesy a tongue 11
To cheer the Itinerant on whom she pours
Her spirit, while he crosses lonely moors,
Or musing sits forsaken halls among.

FOOTNOTES:

[792] 1835.

One who to win your emblematic crown
Aspires not, but frequenting your green shade

MS.

Who dares not sue the God for your bright crown
Of deathless leaves, but haunting your green shade

MS.

[793] 1835.

... delights fresh wreaths to braid.

MS.

[794] The yellow flowering poppy and the wild geranium. Compare the poem _Poor Robin_, March 1840.--ED.

II

"WHY SHOULD THE ENTHUSIAST, JOURNEYING THROUGH THIS ISLE"

Why should the Enthusiast, journeying through this Isle,
Repine as if his hour were come too late?
Not unprotected in her mouldering state,
Antiquity salutes him with a smile,
'Mid fruitful fields that ring with jocund toil, 5
And pleasure-grounds where Taste, refined Co-mate
Of Truth and Beauty, strives to imitate,
Far as she may, primeval Nature's style.
Fair Land! by Time's parental love made free,
By Social Order's watchful arms embraced; 10
With unexampled union meet in thee,
For eye and mind, the present and the past;
With golden prospect for futurity,
If that be reverenced which ought to last.[795]

FOOTNOTES:

[795] 1845.

If what is rightly reverenced may last. 1835.

III

"THEY CALLED THEE MERRY ENGLAND, IN OLD TIME"

They called Thee MERRY ENGLAND, in old time;
A happy people won for thee that name
With envy heard in many a distant clime;
And, spite of change, for me thou keep'st the same
Endearing title, a responsive chime 5
To the heart's fond belief; though some there are
Whose sterner judgments deem that world a snare
For inattentive Fancy, like the lime
Which foolish birds are caught with. Can, I ask,
This face of rural beauty be a mask 10
For discontent, and poverty, and crime;
These spreading towns a cloak for lawless will?
Forbid it, Heaven!-and[796] MERRY ENGLAND still
Shall[797] be thy rightful name, in prose and rhyme!

FOOTNOTES:

[796] 1837.

... that ... 1835.

[797] 1837.

May.... 1835.

IV

TO THE RIVER GRETA, NEAR KESWICK

Greta, what fearful listening! when huge stones
Rumble along thy bed, block after block:
Or, whirling with reiterated shock,
Combat, while darkness aggravates the groans:
But if thou (like Cocytus from the moans[798] 5
Heard on his rueful margin[799]) thence wert named
The Mourner, thy true nature was defamed,
And the habitual murmur that atones
For thy worst rage, forgotten. Oft as Spring
Decks, on thy sinuous banks, her thousand thrones, 10
Seats of glad instinct and love's carolling,
The concert, for the happy, then may vie
With liveliest peals of birth-day harmony:
To a grieved heart, the notes are benisons.

Compare _The Prelude_, book i. l. 269 (vol. iii. p. 140):--

"Was it for this
That one, the fairest of all rivers, loved
To blend his murmurs with my nurse's song,
And, from his alder shades and rocky falls,
And from his fords and shallows, sent a voice
That flowed along my dreams?

* * * * *

Make ceaseless music that composed my thoughts
To more than infant softness."

ED.

FOOTNOTES:

[798] Many years ago, when I was at Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire, the hostess of the inn, proud of her skill in etymology, said, that "the name of the river was taken from the _bridge_, the form of which, as every one must notice, exactly resembled a great A." Dr. Whitaker has derived it from the word of common occurrence in the North of England, "_to greet_;" signifying to lament aloud, mostly with weeping: a conjecture rendered more probable from the stony and rocky channel of both the Cumberland and Yorkshire rivers. The Cumberland Greta, though it does not, among the country people, take up _that_ name till within three miles of its disappearance in the River Derwent, may be considered as having its source in the mountain cove of Wythburn, and flowing through Thirlmere, the beautiful features of which lake are known only to those who, travelling between Grasmere and Keswick, have quitted the main road in the vale of Wythburn, and, crossing over to the opposite side of the lake, have proceeded with it on the right hand.

The channel of the Greta, immediately above Keswick, has, for the purposes of building, been in a great measure cleared of the immense stones which, by their concussion in high floods, produced the loud and awful noises described in the sonnet.

"The scenery upon this river," says Mr. Southey in his Colloquies, "where it passes under the woody side of Latrigg, is of the finest and most rememberable kind:--

---- 'ambiguo lapsu refluitque fluitque,
Occurrensque sibi venturas aspicit undas.'"

W. W. 1835.

[799] The Cocytus was a tributary of the Acheron, in Epirus, but was supposed to have some connection with the underworld, doubtless, as Wordsworth puts it,

from the moans
Heard on his rueful margin.

Compare Homer, _Odyssey_ x. 513, and Virgil, _Aenid_ vi. 295.--ED.

V

TO THE RIVER DERWENT[800]

Among the mountains were we nursed, loved Stream!
Thou near the eagle's nest[801]--within brief sail,
I, of his bold wing floating on the gale,
Where thy deep voice could lull me! Faint the beam
Of human life when first allowed to gleam 5
On mortal notice.--Glory of the vale,
Such thy meek outset, with a crown, though frail,
Kept in perpetual verdure by the steam
Of thy soft breath!--Less vivid wreath entwined
Nemæan victor's brow;[802] less bright was worn, 10
Meed of some Roman chief--in triumph borne
With captives chained; and shedding from his car
The sunset splendours of a finished war
Upon the proud enslavers of mankind!

FOOTNOTES:

[800] This sonnet has already appeared in several editions of the author's poems; but he is tempted to reprint it in this place, as a natural introduction to the two that follow it.--W. W. 1835.

It was first published in 1819.--ED.

[801] The river Derwent rises in Langstrath valley, Borrowdale, in which is Eagle Crag, so named from its having been the haunt of a bird that is now extinct in Cumberland.--ED.

[802] The Nemæan games were celebrated every third or fifth year at Nemæa in Argolis. The victor was crowned with a wreath of olive.--ED.

VI

IN SIGHT OF THE TOWN OF COCKERMOUTH

(Where the Author was born, and his Father's remains are laid.)

A point of life between my Parents' dust,
And yours, my buried Little-ones![803] am I;
And to those graves looking habitually
In kindred quiet I repose my trust.
Death to the innocent is more than just, 5
And, to the sinner, mercifully bent;
So may I hope, if truly I repent
And meekly bear the ills which bear I must:
And You, my Offspring! that do still remain,
Yet may outstrip me in the appointed race, 10
If e'er, through fault of mine, in mutual pain
We breathed together for a moment's space,
The wrong, by love provoked, let love arraign,
And only love keep in your hearts a place.

FOOTNOTES:

[803] His children, Catherine and Thomas, who died in infancy at the Parsonage, Grasmere, and were buried in Grasmere Churchyard.--ED.

VII

ADDRESS FROM THE SPIRIT OF COCKERMOUTH CASTLE

"Thou look'st upon me, and dost fondly think,
Poet! that, stricken as both are by years,
We, differing once so much, are now Compeers,
Prepared, when each has stood his time, to sink
Into the dust. Erewhile a sterner link 5
United us; when thou, in boyish play,
Entering my dungeon, didst become a prey
To soul-appalling darkness. Not a blink
Of light was there;--and thus did I, thy Tutor,
Make thy young thoughts acquainted with the grave;
While thou wert chasing the wing'd butterfly 11
Through my green courts;[804] or climbing, a bold suitor
Up to the flowers whose golden progeny
Still round my shattered brow in beauty wave."[805]

FOOTNOTES:

[804] Compare _To a Butterfly_ (1802), vol. ii. p. 284--

Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!

ED.

[805] Compare _The Prelude_, book i. ll. 283-85--

The shadow of those towers
That yet survive, a shattered monument
Of feudal sway.

Compare also the sonnet _At Furness Abbey_, written in 1844.--ED.

VIII

NUN'S WELL, BRIGHAM

[So named from the religious House that stood close by. I have rather an odd anecdote to relate of the Nun's Well. One day the landlady of a public-house, a field's length from the well, on the roadside, said to me--"You have been to see the Nun's Well, Sir?" "The Nun's Well! what is that?" said the Postman, who in his royal livery stopt his mail-car at the door. The landlady and I explained to him what the name meant, and what sort of people the nuns were. A countryman who was standing by, rather tipsy, stammered out--"Aye, those nuns were good people; they are gone; but we shall soon have them back again." The Reform mania was just then at its height.--I.F.]

The cattle crowding round this beverage clear
To slake their thirst, with reckless hoofs have trod
The encircling turf into a barren clod;
Through which the waters creep, then disappear,
Born to be lost in Derwent flowing near; 5
Yet, o'er the brink, and round the lime-stone cell
Of the pure spring (they call it the "Nun's Well,"
Name that first struck by chance my startled ear)
A tender Spirit broods--the pensive Shade
Of ritual honours to this Fountain paid 10
By hooded Votaresses[806] with saintly cheer;[807]
Albeit oft the Virgin-mother mild
Looked down with pity upon eyes beguiled
Into the shedding of "too soft a tear."[808]

FOOTNOTES:

[806] 1837.

... Votaries ... 1835.

[807] Attached to the church of Brigham was formerly a chantry, which held a moiety of the manor; and in the decayed parsonage some vestiges of monastic architecture are still to be seen.--W. W. 1835.

[808] See Pope's _Eloïsa to Abelard_, l. 224.--ED.

IX

TO A FRIEND[809]

(ON THE BANKS OF THE DERWENT)

[My son John, who was then building a parsonage on his small living at Brigham.--I.F.]

Pastor and Patriot!--at whose bidding rise
These modest walls, amid a flock that need,
For one who comes to watch them and to feed,
A fixed Abode--keep down presageful sighs.[810]
Threats, which the unthinking only can despise, 5
Perplex the Church; but be thou firm,--be true
To thy first hope, and this good work pursue,
Poor as thou art. A welcome sacrifice
Dost Thou prepare, whose sign will be the smoke[811]
Of thy new hearth; and sooner shall its wreaths, 10
Mounting while earth her morning incense breathes,
From wandering fiends of air receive a yoke,
And straightway cease to aspire, than God disdain
This humble tribute as ill-timed or vain.

FOOTNOTES:

[809] John Wordsworth, the poet's son, the subject of this sonnet, was incumbent of Moresby, near Whitehaven, before he went to Brigham. See the Fenwick note to the lines, _Composed by the Sea-shore_, p. 340. In 1833 Wordsworth wrote to Lady Beaumont:--

"Were you ever told that my son is building a parsonage-house upon a small living, to which he was lately presented by the Earl of Lonsdale. The situation is beautiful, commanding the windings of the Derwent both above and below the site of the house; the mountain Skiddaw terminating the view one way, at a distance of six miles, and the ruins of Cockermouth Castle appearing nearly in the centre of the same view. In consequence of some discouraging thoughts expressed by my son when he had entered upon this undertaking, I addressed to him the following Sonnet, which you may perhaps read with some interest at the present crisis."--ED.

[810] 1835.

... foreboding sighs.

MS. Letter to Lady Beaumont.

[811] 1835.

To Him who dwells in Heaven will be the smoke

MS. Letter to Lady Beaumont.

X

MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS

(LANDING AT THE MOUTH OF THE DERWENT,
WORKINGTON)[812]

[I will mention for the sake of the friend who is writing down these notes, that it was among the fine Scotch firs near Ambleside, and particularly those near Green Bank, that I have over and over again paused at the sight of this image. Long may they stand to afford a like gratification to others!--This wish is not uncalled for, several of their brethren having already disappeared.--I. F.]

Dear to the Loves, and to the Graces vowed,
The Queen drew back the wimple that she wore;
And to the throng, that on the Cumbrian shore
Her landing hailed, how touchingly she bowed![813]
And like a Star (that, from a heavy cloud[814] 5
Of pine-tree foliage poised in air, forth darts,[815]
When a soft summer gale at evening parts
The gloom that did its loveliness enshroud)
She smiled;[816] but Time, the old Saturnian seer,
Sighed on the wing as her foot pressed the strand, 10
With step prelusive to a long array
Of woes and degradations hand in hand--
Weeping captivity, and shuddering fear
Stilled by the ensanguined block of Fotheringay![817]

FOOTNOTES:

[812] "The fears and impatience of Mary were so great," says Robertson, "that she got into a fisher-boat, and with about twenty attendants landed at Workington, in Cumberland; and thence she was conducted with many marks of respect to Carlisle." The apartment in which the Queen had slept at Workington Hall (where she was received by Sir Henry Curwen as became her rank and misfortunes) was long preserved, out of respect to her memory, as she had left it; and one cannot but regret that some necessary alterations in the mansion could not be effected without its destruction.--W. W. 1835.

[813] 1837.

And to the throng how touchingly she bowed
That hailed her landing on the Cumbrian shore; 1835.

[814] 1840.

Bright as a star (that, from a sombre cloud 1835.

[815] 1835.

High poised in air of pine-tree foliage, darts, MS.

[816] Compare _The Triad_, ll. 189, 190 (p. 188)--

So gleams the crescent moon, that loves
To be descried through shady groves.--ED.

[817] 1835.

Thenceforth he saw a long and long array
Of miserable seasons hand in hand--
Weeping, captivity, and pallid fear,
And last, the ensanguined block of Fotheringay.

MS.

XI

STANZAS SUGGESTED IN A STEAM-BOAT OFF SAINT BEES' HEADS, ON THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND[818]