Chapter I: Front Matter (1)

THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

VOL. VIII

_after Thomas Woolner_

_Printed by Ch Wittmann Paris_]

THE POETICAL WORKS
OF
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

EDITED BY
WILLIAM KNIGHT

VOL. VIII

_Yorkshire_]

London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.
New York: Macmillan & Co.
1896

_All rights reserved._

CONTENTS

PAGE
1834

Lines suggested by a Portrait from the Pencil of F. Stone 1

The foregoing Subject resumed 6

To a Child 7

Lines written in the Album of the Countess of Lonsdale,
Nov. 5, 1834 8

1835

“Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant” 12

To the Moon 13

To the Moon 15

Written after the Death of Charles Lamb 17

Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg 24

Upon seeing a Coloured Drawing of the Bird of Paradise
in an Album 29

“Desponding Father! mark this altered bough” 31

“Four fiery steeds impatient of the rein” 31

To ---- 32

Roman Antiquities discovered at Bishopstone, Herefordshire 33

St. Catherine of Ledbury 34

“By a blest Husband guided, Mary came” 35

“Oh what a Wreck! how changed in mien and speech!” 36

1836

November 1836 37

To a Redbreast--(In Sickness) 38

1837

“Six months to six years added he remained” 39

Memorials of a Tour in Italy, 1837--To Henry Crabb Robinson 41

I. Musings near Aquapendente, April, 1837 42

II. The Pine of Monte Mario at Rome 58

III. At Rome 59

IV. At Rome--Regrets--in Allusion to Niebuhr and other
Modern Historians 60

V. Continued 61

VI. Plea for the Historian 61

VII. At Rome 62

VIII. Near Rome, in Sight of St. Peter’s 63

IX. At Albano 64

X. “Near Anio’s stream, I spied a gentle Dove” 65

XI. From the Alban Hills, looking towards Rome 65

XII. Near the Lake of Thrasymene 66

XIII. Near the same Lake 67

XIV. The Cuckoo at Laverna 67

XV. At the Convent of Camaldoli 72

XVI. Continued 73

XVII. At the Eremite or Upper Convent of Camaldoli 74

XVIII. At Vallombrosa 75

XIX. At Florence 78

XX. Before the Picture of the Baptist, by Raphael,
in the Gallery at Florence 79

XXI. At Florence--From Michael Angelo 80

XXII. At Florence--From Michael Angelo 81

XXIII. Among the Ruins of a Convent in the Apennines 82

XXIV. In Lombardy 83

XXV. After leaving Italy 84

XXVI. Continued 85

At Bologna, in Remembrance of the late Insurrections,
1837.--I. 86

II. Continued 86

III. Concluded 87

“What if our numbers barely could defy” 87

A Night Thought 88

The Widow on Windermere Side 89

1838

To the Planet Venus 92

“Hark! ’tis the Thrush, undaunted, undeprest” 93

“’Tis He whose yester-evening’s high disdain” 94

Composed at Rydal on May Morning, 1838 94

Composed on a May Morning, 1838 97

A Plea for Authors, May 1838 99

“Blest Statesman He, whose Mind’s unselfish will” 101

Valedictory Sonnet 102

1839

Sonnets upon the Punishment of Death--

I. Suggested by the View of Lancaster Castle (on the
Road from the South) 103

II. “Tenderly do we feel by Nature’s law” 104

III. “The Roman Consul doomed his sons to die” 105

IV. “Is _Death_, when evil against good has fought” 106

V. “Not to the object specially designed” 106

VI. “Ye brood of conscience--Spectres! that frequent” 107

VII. “Before the world had past her time of youth” 107

VIII. “Fit retribution, by the moral code” 108

IX. “Though to give timely warning and deter” 109

X. “Our bodily life, some plead, that life the shrine” 109

XI. “Ah, think how one compelled for life to abide” 110

XII. “See the Condemned alone within his cell” 110

XIII. Conclusion 111

XIV. Apology 112

“Men of the Western World! in Fate’s dark book” 112

1840

To a Painter 114

On the same Subject 115

Poor Robin 116

On a Portrait of the Duke of Wellington upon the Field
of Waterloo, by Haydon 118

1841

Epitaph in the Chapel-Yard of Langdale, Westmoreland 120

1842

“Intent on gathering wool from hedge and brake” 122

Prelude, prefixed to the Volume entitled “Poems chiefly
of Early and Late Years” 123

Floating Island 125

“The Crescent-moon, the Star of Love” 127

“_A Poet!_--He hath put his heart to school” 127

“The most alluring clouds that mount the sky” 128

“Feel for the wrongs to universal ken” 129

In Allusion to various Recent Histories and Notices of
the French Revolution 130

Continued 131

Concluded 131

“Lo! where she stands fixed in a saint-like trance” 132

The Norman Boy 132

The Poet’s Dream 135

Suggested by a Picture of the Bird of Paradise 140

To the Clouds 142

Airey-Force Valley 146

“Lyre! though such power do in thy magic live” 147

Love lies Bleeding 148

“They call it Love lies bleeding! rather say” 150

Companion to the Foregoing 150

The Cuckoo-Clock 151

“Wansfell! this Household has a favoured lot” 153

“Though the bold wings of Poesy affect” 154

“Glad sight wherever new with old” 154

1843

“While beams of orient light shoot wide and high” 156

Inscription for a Monument in Crosthwaite Church, in
the Vale of Keswick 157

To the Rev. Christopher Wordsworth, D.D., Master of
Harrow School 162

1844

“So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive” 164

On the projected Kendal and Windermere Railway 166

“Proud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old” 167

At Furness Abbey 168

1845

“Forth from a jutting ridge, around whose base” 170

The Westmoreland Girl 172

At Furness Abbey 176

“Yes! thou art fair, yet be not moved” 176

“What heavenly smiles! O Lady mine” 177

To a Lady 177

To the Pennsylvanians 179

“Young England--what is then become of Old” 180

1846

Sonnet 181

“Where lies the truth? has Man, in wisdom’s creed” 182

To Lucca Giordano 183

“Who but is pleased to watch the moon on high” 184

Illustrated Books and Newspapers 184

Sonnet. To an Octogenarian 185

“I know an aged Man constrained to dwell” 186

“The unremitting voice of nightly streams” 187

“How beautiful the Queen of Night, on high” 188

On the Banks of a Rocky Stream 188

Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of
Early Childhood 189

POEMS
BY
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
AND BY
DOROTHY WORDSWORTH
NOT INCLUDED IN THE EDITION OF 1849-50

1787

Sonnet, on seeing Miss Helen Maria Williams weep at a
Tale of Distress 209

Lines written by William Wordsworth as a School Exercise
at Hawkshead, Anno Ætatis 14 211

1792 (or earlier)

“Sweet was the walk along the narrow lane” 214

“When Love was born of heavenly line” 215

The Convict 217

1798

“The snow-tracks of my friends I see” 219

The Old Cumberland Beggar (MS. Variants, not inserted
in Vol. I.) 220

1800

Andrew Jones 221

“There is a shapeless crowd of unhewn stones” 223

1802

“Among all lovely things my Love had been” 231

“Along the mazes of this song I go” 233

“The rains at length have ceas’d, the winds are still’d” 233

“Witness thou” 234

Wild-Fowl 234

Written in a Grotto 234

Home at Grasmere 235

“Shall he who gives his days to low pursuits” 257

1803

“I find it written of Simonides” 258

1804

“No whimsey of the purse is here” 258

1805

“Peaceful our valley, fair and green” 259

“Ah! if I were a lady gay” 262

1806

To the Evening Star over Grasmere Water, July 1806 263

Michael Angelo in Reply to the Passage upon his Statue
of Night sleeping 263

“Come, gentle Sleep, Death’s image tho’ thou art” 264

“Brook, that hast been my solace days and week” 265

Translation from Michael Angelo 265

1808

George and Sarah Green 266

1818

“The Scottish Broom on Bird-nest brae” 270

Placard for a Poll bearing an old Shirt 271

“Critics, right honourable Bard, decree” 271

1819

“Through Cumbrian wilds, in many a mountain cove” 272

“My Son! behold the tide already spent” 273

1820

Author’s Voyage down the Rhine 273

1822

“These vales were saddened with no common gloom” 275

Translation of Part of the First Book of the _Æneid_ 276

1823

“Arms and the Man I sing, the first who bore” 281

1826

Lines addressed to Joanna H. from Gwerndwffnant in June 1826 282

Holiday at Gwerndwffnant, May 1826 284

Composed when a Probability existed of our being obliged
to quit Rydal Mount as a Residence 289

“I, whose pretty Voice you hear” 295

1827

To my Niece Dora 297

1829

“My Lord and Lady Darlington” 298

1833

To the Utilitarians 299

1835

“Throned in the Sun’s descending car” 300

“And oh! dear soother of the pensive breast” 301

1836

“Said red-ribboned Evans” 301

1837

On an Event in Col. Evans’s Redoubted Performances in Spain 303

1838

“Wouldst thou be gathered to Christ’s chosen flock” 303

Protest against the Ballot, 1838 304

“Said Secrecy to Cowardice and Fraud” 304

A Poet to his Grandchild 305

1840

On a Portrait of I.F., painted by Margaret Gillies 306

To I.F. 307

“Oh Bounty without measure, while the Grace” 308

1842

The Eagle and the Dove 309

Grace Darling 310

“When Severn’s sweeping flood had overthrown” 314

The Pillar of Trajan 314

1846

“Deign, Sovereign Mistress! to accept a lay” 319

1847

Ode, performed in the Senate-House, Cambridge, on the 6th of
July 1847, at the First Commencement after the Installation
of His Royal Highness the Prince Albert, Chancellor of the
University 320

To Miss Sellon 325

“The worship of this Sabbath morn” 325

BIBLIOGRAPHIES--

I. Great Britain 329

II. America 380

III. France 421

ERRATA AND ADDENDA LIST 431

INDEX TO THE POEMS 433

INDEX TO THE FIRST LINES 451

PREFATORY NOTE

The American Bibliography is almost entirely the work of Mrs. St. John of Ithaca, and is the result of laborious and careful critical research on her part. The French Bibliography is not so full. I have been assisted in it mainly by M. Legouis at Lyons, and by workers at the British Museum. I have also collected a German Bibliography, but it is in too incomplete a state for publication in its present form.

The English Bibliography is fuller than any of its predecessors; but there is no such thing as finality in such work, especially when an addition to the literature of the subject is made nearly every week. Many kind friends, and coadjutors, have assisted me in it, amongst whom I may mention Dr. Garnett of the British Museum, and _very specially_ Mr. Tutin, of Hull, and also Mr. John J. Smith, St. Andrews, and Mr. Maclauchlan, Dundee. If I omit, either here or elsewhere, to record the assistance which I have received from any one, in my efforts to make this edition of Wordsworth as perfect as is possible at this stage of literary criticism and editorship, I sincerely regret it; but many of my correspondents have specially requested that no mention should be made of their names or their services.

In the Preface to the first volume of this edition there was an unfortunate omission. In returning the final proofs to press, I accidentally transmitted an uncorrected one, in which two names did not appear. They were those of Mr. Thomas Hutchinson, Dublin, and Mr. S. C. Hill, of Hughli College, Bengal. The former kindly revised most of the sheets of Volumes I. and II., and corrected errors, besides making other valuable suggestions and additions. When his own Clarendon Press edition of Wordsworth was being prepared for press, Mr. Hutchinson asked permission to incorporate in it materials which were not afterwards inserted. This I granted cordially, as a similar permission had been given to Professor Dowden for his Aldine edition. The unfortunate omission of Mr. Hutchinson’s name was not discovered by me till after the issue of volumes I. and II. (which appeared simultaneously), and it was first brought under my notice by Mr. Hutchinson’s own letters to the newspapers. My debt to Mr. Hutchinson is great; and, although I have already thanked him for the services which he has rendered to the world in connection with Wordsworthian literature, I may perhaps be allowed to repeat the acknowledgment now. The revised sheets of Vols. I. and II. of this edition were, however, submitted to others at the same time that they were sent to Mr. Hutchinson; more especially to the late Mr. Dykes Campbell, and on his death to Mr. Belinfante, and then to the late Mr. Kinghorn, all of whom were engaged by my publishers to assist in the work entrusted to me. They “turned on the microscope” on my own work, and Mr. Hutchinson’s; and to them I have been indebted in many ways.

Mr. Hill’s services, in tracing the sources of numerous quotations from other poets which occur in Wordsworth’s text, have been great. He sent me his discoveries, unsolicited, and I wish to express very cordially my indebtedness to him. To discover some of these quotations--there are several hundreds of them--cost me much labour, before I had the pleasure of hearing from, or knowing, Mr. Hill; and his assistance in this matter has been greater than that of any other person. It will be seen that I have failed--after much study and extensive correspondence--to discover them all.

In addition to actual quotations--indicated by Wordsworth by inverted commas in his poems--to trace parallel passages from other poets, or phrases which may have suggested to him what he recast and glorified, has seemed to me work not unworthy of accomplishment. At the same time, and in the same connection, to discover the somewhat similar debts of later poets to Wordsworth, and to indicate this here and there in footnotes, may not be wholly useless to posterity.

My obligations to my friend, Mr. Dykes Campbell, are greater than I can adequately express. He supplied me with much material, drawn from many quarters; and, although he did not always mention his sources, I had implicit confidence in him, both as a literary man and a friend. After his death, through the kindness of Mrs. Campbell, I examined some MS. volumes of _Wordsworthiana_ written by him, which were of much use to me.

Some of these were from unknown sources, which I should perhaps have traced out before making use of them, but, in all my Wordsworth work, I have acted from first to last on the legal opinion of a distinguished Judge, that the heir of the writer of literary work could alone authorise its subsequent publication; and, since the heirs of the Poet had kindly given me permission to collect and publish his works, I did so, with a view to the benefit of posterity.

Some of Mr. Campbell’s material was derived from MSS. now in the possession of Mr. T. Norton Longman, and I have to express my sincere regret that in the earlier volumes I copied from Mr. Campbell’s transcripts of these MSS.--which were lent to him on the condition that no public use should be made of them without Mr. Longman’s permission--some variations of the text, without mentioning the source whence they were derived.

I was unaware that these MSS. were lent to Mr. Campbell with the condition attached, and regret very much that I am unable to trust my memory to indicate now what variations of text I have quoted from them. But I may add that Mr. Longman is about to publish a work which will enable Wordsworth students to become practically acquainted with the contents of his MSS.

In reference to the poems not published by Wordsworth or his sister during their lifetime, I have included in this volume not only fugitive pieces printed in Magazines and elsewhere, but also those which have been since recovered from numerous manuscript sources. They are of varying merit. It would be interesting to know, and to record in every instance, where these manuscripts now are; but this is impossible. In many cases the manuscripts have recently changed ownership. I have obtained a sight of many of them, and have been granted permission to transcribe them, from the fortunate possessors of large autograph collections, and also from dealers in autographs; but, after the sale of manuscripts at public auction-rooms, it is, as a rule, impossible to trace them.

In many cases the MS. variants which have been published in previous volumes occur in copies of the poems, transcribed by the Wordsworth household in private letters to friends. I have occasionally indicated this in footnotes; but, to have done so always would have disfigured the pages, and frequently the notes would have been longer than the text. To trace the present possessors of the MSS. would be well-nigh impossible. It is perhaps worth mentioning that in several cases Wordsworth entered as “misprints” in future editions, what some of his editors have considered “new readings.” _E.g._ in _The Excursion_, book ix. l. 679, “wild” demeanour, instead of “mild” demeanour.

On Nov. 4, 1893, Mr. Aubrey de Vere wrote to me--

“I earnestly hope that, in your ‘monumental edition,’ you will
restore the _Ode, Intimations of Immortality_, to the place
which Wordsworth always assigned to it, that of the High Altar
of his poetic Cathedral; remitting Quillinan’s laureate Ode
on an unworthy, because ‘occasional,’ subject to an Appendix,
as a work that at the time of publication was attributed to
Wordsworth, but was written by another, though it probably
was seen by him, and had a line or two of his in it, and
corrections by him.

“This is certainly the truth; and I should think that he
probably himself told all that truth to the officials, when
transmitting the Ode; but that they concealed the circumstance;
and that Wordsworth, then profoundly depressed in spirits, gave
no more thought to the subject, and soon forgot all about it.…

“Yours very sincerely,

“AUBREY DE VERE.”

It was in compliance with Mr. Aubrey de Vere’s request that, in this edition, I departed, in a single instance, from the chronological arrangement of the poems.

It may not be too trivial a detail to mention that I gladly gave permission to other editors of Wordsworth to make use of any of the material which I discovered, and brought together, in former editions; _e.g._ to Mr. George, in Boston, for his edition of _The Prelude_ (in which, if the reader, or critic, compares my original edition with his notes, he will see what Mr. George has done); and to Professor Dowden, Trinity College, Dublin, for his most admirable Aldine edition. For the latter--which will always hold a high place in Wordsworth literature--I placed everything asked from me at the disposal of Mr. Dowden.

While these sheets are passing through the press, Dr. Garnett, of the British Museum--one of the kindest and ablest of bibliographers--has forwarded to me a contribution, previously sent by him to _The Academy_, and printed in its issue of January 2, 1897.

I have no means of knowing--or of ultimately discovering--whether that sonnet, printed as Wordsworth’s, is really his. Dr. Garnett says, in his letter to me, “The verses were undoubtedly in Wordsworth’s hand”; and, he adds, “I think they should be preserved, because they are Wordsworth’s, and as an additional proof of his regard for Camoens, whom he enumerates elsewhere among great sonnet-writers. I have added a version of the quatrains, that the piece may be complete. From the character of the handwriting, the lines would seem to have been written down in old age; and I am not quite certain of the word which I have transcribed as ‘Austral.’”

Vasco, whose bold and happy mainyard spread
Sunward thy sails where dawning glory dyed
Heaven’s Orient gate; whose westering prow the tide
Clove, where the day star bows him to his bed:
Not sterner toil than thine, or strife more dread,
Or nobler laud to nobler lyre allied,
His, who did baffled Polypheme deride;
Or his, whose scaring shaft the Harpy fled.
Camoens, he the accomplished and the good,
Gave to thy fame a more illustrious flight
Than that brave vessel, though she sailed so far.
Through him her course along the Austral flood
Is known to all beneath the polar star,
Through him the Antipodes in thy name delight.

WILLIAM KNIGHT.

WORDSWORTH’S POETICAL WORKS

1834

LINES

SUGGESTED BY A PORTRAIT FROM THE PENCIL OF F. STONE

Composed 1834.--Published 1835

[This Portrait has hung for many years in our principal sitting-room, and represents J. Q.[1] as she was when a girl. The picture, though it is somewhat thinly painted, has much merit in tone and general effect: it is chiefly valuable, however, from the sentiment that pervades it. The anecdote of the saying of the monk in sight of Titian’s picture was told in this house by Mr. Wilkie, and was, I believe, first communicated to the public in this poem, the former portion of which I was composing at the time. Southey heard the story from Miss Hutchinson, and transferred it to the _Doctor_; but it is not easy to explain how my friend Mr. Rogers, in a note subsequently added to his _Italy_, was led to speak of the same remarkable words having many years before been spoken in his hearing by a monk or priest in front of a picture of the Last Supper, placed over a Refectory-table in a convent at Padua.--I.F.]

One of the “Poems of Sentiment and Reflection.”--ED.

Beguiled into forgetfulness of care
Due to the day’s unfinished task; of pen
Or book regardless, and of that fair scene
In Nature’s prodigality displayed
Before my window, oftentimes and long 5
I gaze upon a Portrait whose mild gleam
Of beauty never ceases to enrich
The common light; whose stillness charms the air,
Or seems to charm it, into like repose;
Whose silence, for the pleasure of the ear, 10
Surpasses sweetest music. There she sits
With emblematic purity attired
In a white vest, white as her marble neck
Is, and the pillar of the throat would be
But for the shadow by the drooping chin 15
Cast into that recess--the tender shade,
The shade and light, both there and every where,
And through the very atmosphere she breathes,
Broad, clear, and toned harmoniously, with skill
That might from nature have been learnt in the hour 20
When the lone shepherd sees the morning spread
Upon the mountains. Look at her, whoe’er
Thou be that, kindling with a poet’s soul,
Hast loved the painter’s true Promethean craft
Intensely--from Imagination take 25
The treasure,--what mine eyes behold see thou,
Even though the Atlantic ocean roll between.

A silver line, that runs from brow to crown
And in the middle parts the braided hair,
Just serves to show how delicate a soil 30
The golden harvest grows in; and those eyes,
Soft and capacious as a cloudless sky
Whose azure depth their colour emulates,
Must needs be conversant with upward looks,
Prayer’s voiceless service; but now, seeking nought 35
And shunning nought, their own peculiar life
Of motion they renounce, and with the head
Partake its inclination towards earth
In humble grace, and quiet pensiveness
Caught at the point where it stops short of sadness. 40

Offspring of soul-bewitching Art, make me
Thy confidant! say, whence derived that air
Of calm abstraction? Can the ruling thought
Be with some lover far away, or one
Crossed by misfortune, or of doubted faith? 45
Inapt conjecture! Childhood here, a moon
Crescent in simple loveliness serene,
Has but approached the gates of womanhood,
Not entered them; her heart is yet unpierced
By the blind Archer-god; her fancy free: 50
The fount of feeling, if unsought elsewhere,
Will not be found.

Her right hand, as it lies
Across the slender wrist of the left arm
Upon her lap reposing, holds--but mark
How slackly, for the absent mind permits 55
No firmer grasp--a little wild-flower, joined
As in a posy, with a few pale ears
Of yellowing corn, the same that overtopped
And in their common birthplace sheltered it
’Till they were plucked together; a blue flower 60
Called by the thrifty husbandman a weed;
But Ceres, in her garland, might have worn
That ornament, unblamed. The floweret, held
In scarcely conscious fingers, was, she knows,
(Her Father told her so) in youth’s gay dawn 65
Her Mother’s favourite; and the orphan Girl,
In her own dawn--a dawn less gay and bright,
Loves it, while there in solitary peace
She sits, for that departed Mother’s sake.
--Not from a source less sacred is derived 70
(Surely I do not err) that pensive air
Of calm abstraction through the face diffused
And the whole person.
Words have something told
More than the pencil can, and verily
More than is needed, but the precious Art 75
Forgives their interference--Art divine,
That both creates and fixes, in despite
Of Death and Time, the marvels it hath wrought.

Strange contrasts have we in this world of ours!
That posture, and the look of filial love 80
Thinking of past and gone, with what is left
Dearly united, might be swept away
From this fair Portrait’s fleshly Archetype,
Even by an innocent fancy’s slightest freak
Banished, nor ever, haply, be restored 85
To their lost place, or meet in harmony
So exquisite; but _here_ do they abide,
Enshrined for ages. Is not then the Art
Godlike, a humble branch of the divine,
In visible quest of immortality, 90
Stretched forth with trembling hope?--In every realm,
From high Gibraltar to Siberian plains,
Thousands, in each variety of tongue
That Europe knows, would echo this appeal;
One above all, a Monk who waits on God 95
In the magnific Convent built of yore
To sanctify the Escurial palace. He--
Guiding, from cell to cell and room to room,
A British Painter (eminent for truth
In character,[2] and depth of feeling, shown 100
By labours that have touched the hearts of kings,
And are endeared to simple cottagers)--
Came, in that service, to a glorious work,[3]
Our Lord’s Last Supper, beautiful as when first
The appropriate Picture, fresh from Titian’s hand, 105
Graced the Refectory: and there, while both
Stood with eyes fixed upon that masterpiece,
The hoary Father in the Stranger’s ear
Breathed out these words:--“Here daily do we sit,
Thanks given to God for daily bread, and here 110
Pondering the mischiefs of these restless times,
And thinking of my Brethren, dead, dispersed,
Or changed and changing, I not seldom gaze
Upon this solemn Company unmoved
By shock of circumstance, or lapse of years, 115
Until I cannot but believe that they--
They are in truth the Substance, we
the Shadows.”[4]

So spake the mild Jeronymite, his griefs
Melting away within him like a dream
Ere he had ceased to gaze, perhaps to speak: 120
And I, grown old, but in a happier land,
Domestic Portrait! have to verse consigned
In thy calm presence those heart-moving words:
Words that can soothe, more than they agitate;
Whose spirit, like the angel that went down 125
Into Bethesda’s pool, with healing virtue
Informs the fountain in the human breast
Which[5] by the visitation was disturbed.
----But why this stealing tear? Companion mute,
On thee I look, not sorrowing; fare thee well, 130
My Song’s Inspirer, once again farewell![6]

[1] Jemima Quillinan, the eldest daughter of Edward Quillinan, Wordsworth’s future son-in-law. The portrait was taken when she was a school-girl, and while her father resided at Oporto.--ED.

[2] Wilkie. See the Fenwick note.--ED.

[3] 1837.

Left not unvisited a glorious work,

1835.

[4] “When Wilkie was in the Escurial, looking at Titian’s famous picture of the Last Supper, in the Refectory there, an old Jeronymite said to him: ‘I have sate daily in sight of that picture for now nearly three score years; during that time my companions have dropt off, one after another--all who were my seniors, all who were my contemporaries, and many, or most of those who were younger than myself; more than one generation has passed away, and there the figures in the picture have remained unchanged! I look at them till I sometimes think that they are the realities, and we but shadows!’

I wish I could record the name of the monk by whom that natural feeling was so feelingly and strikingly expressed.

The shows of things are better than themselves,

says the author of the tragedy of Nero, whose name also I could wish had been forthcoming; and the classical reader will remember the lines of Sophocles:

ὁρῶ γὰρ ἡμᾶς οὐδὲν ὄντας ἄλλο, πλὴν
εἴδωλ’, ὅσοιπερ ζῶμεν, ὴ κούφην σκιάν.

These are reflections which should make us think

Of that same time when no more change shall be
But steadfast rest of all things, firmly stayd
Upon the pillars of Eternity,
That is contrain to mutability;
For all that moveth doth in change delight:
But henceforth all shall rest eternally
With Him that is the God of Sabaoth hight,
O that great Sabaoth God grant me that Sabbath’s sight.

SPENSER.”

(Southey, _The Doctor_, vol. iii. p. 235.)--ED.

[5] 1837.

That …

1835.

[6] The pile of buildings, composing the palace and convent of San Lorenzo, has, in common usage, lost its proper name in that of the _Escurial_, a village at the foot of the hill upon which the splendid edifice, built by Philip the Second, stands. It need scarcely be added, that Wilkie is the painter alluded to.--W.W. 1835.

THE FOREGOING SUBJECT RESUMED

Composed 1834.--Published 1835.

One of the “Poems of Sentiment and Reflection.”--ED.

Among a grave fraternity of Monks,
For One, but surely not for One alone,
Triumphs, in that great work, the Painter’s skill,
Humbling the body, to exalt the soul;
Yet representing, amid wreck and wrong 5
And dissolution and decay, the warm
And breathing life of flesh, as if already
Clothed with impassive majesty, and graced
With no mean earnest of a heritage
Assigned to it in future worlds. Thou, too, 10
With thy memorial flower, meek Portraiture!
From whose serene companionship I passed
Pursued by thoughts that haunt me still; thou also--
Though but a simple object, into light
Called forth by those affections that endear 15
The private hearth; though keeping thy sole seat
In singleness, and little tried by time,
Creation, as it were, of yesterday--
With a congenial function art endued
For each and all of us, together joined 20
In course of nature under a low roof
By charities and duties that proceed
Out of the bosom of a wiser vow.
To a like salutary sense of awe
Or sacred wonder, growing with the power 25
Of meditation that attempts to weigh,
In faithful scales, things and their opposites,
Can thy enduring quiet gently raise
A household small and sensitive,--whose love,
Dependent as in part its blessings are 30
Upon frail ties dissolving or dissolved
On earth, will be revived, we trust, in heaven.[7]

[7] In the class entitled “Musings,” in Mr. Southey’s Minor Poems, is one upon his own miniature picture, taken in childhood, and another upon a landscape painted by Gaspar Poussin. It is possible that every word of the above verses, though similar in subject, might have been written had the author been unacquainted with those beautiful effusions of poetic sentiment. But, for his own satisfaction, he must be allowed thus publicly to acknowledge the pleasure those two poems of his Friend have given him, and the grateful influence they have upon his mind as often as he reads them, or thinks of them.--W.W. 1835.

TO A CHILD

WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM[8]

Composed 1834.--Published 1835

[This quatrain was extempore on observing this image, as I had often done, on the lawn of Rydal Mount. It was first written down in the Album of my God-daughter, Rotha Quillinan.--I.F.]

In 1837 this was one of the “Inscriptions.” In 1845 it was transferred to the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

Small service is true service while it lasts:
Of humblest Friends, bright Creature! scorn not one![9]
The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew-drop from the Sun.[10]

[8] The original title (1835) was “Written in an Album.” In 1837 it was “Written in the Album of a Child.” In 1845 the title was reconstructed as above.

[9] 1845.

Of Friends, however humble, scorn not one:

1835.

[10] Compare the lines, written in 1845, beginning--

So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive.

ED.

LINES

WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF THE COUNTESS OF LONSDALE,[11] NOV. 5, 1834

Composed 1834.--Published 1835

[This is a faithful picture of that amiable Lady, as she then was. The youthfulness of figure and demeanour and habits, which she retained in almost unprecedented degree, departed a very few years after, and she died without violent disease by gradual decay before she reached the period of old age.--I.F.]

This was placed, in 1845, among the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

Lady! a Pen (perhaps with thy regard,
Among the Favoured, favoured not the least)
Left, ’mid the Records of this Book inscribed,
Deliberate traces, registers of thought
And feeling, suited to the place and time 5
That gave them birth:--months passed, and still this hand,
That had not been too timid to imprint
Words which the virtues of thy Lord inspired,
Was yet not bold enough to write of Thee.
And why that scrupulous reserve? In sooth 10
The blameless cause lay in the Theme itself.
Flowers are there many that delight to strive
With the sharp wind, and seem to court the shower,
Yet are by nature careless of the sun
Whether he shine on them or not; and some, 15
Where’er he moves along the unclouded sky,
Turn a broad front full on his flattering beams:
Others do rather from their notice shrink,
Loving the dewy shade,--a humble band,
Modest and sweet, a progeny of earth, 20
Congenial with thy mind and character,
High-born Augusta!
Witness Towers, and Groves!
And Thou, wild Stream, that giv’st the honoured name[12]
Of Lowther to this ancient Line, bear witness[13]
From thy most secret haunts; and ye Parterres, 25
Which She is pleased and proud to call her own,
Witness how oft upon my noble Friend
_Mute_ offerings, tribute from an inward sense
Of admiration and respectful love,
Have waited--till the affections could no more 30
Endure that silence, and broke out in song,
Snatches of music taken up and dropt
Like those self-solacing, those under, notes
Trilled by the redbreast, when autumnal leaves
Are thin upon the bough. Mine, only mine, 35
The pleasure was, and no one heard the praise,
Checked, in the moment of its issue, checked
And reprehended, by a fancied blush
From the pure qualities that called it forth.

Thus Virtue lives debarred from Virtue’s meed; 40
Thus, Lady, is retiredness a veil
That, while it only spreads a softening charm
O’er features looked at by discerning eyes,
Hides half their beauty from the common gaze;
And thus,[14] even on the exposed and breezy hill 45
Of lofty station, female goodness walks,
When side by side with lunar gentleness,
As in a cloister. Yet the grateful Poor
(Such the immunities of low estate,
Plain Nature’s enviable privilege, 50
Her sacred recompense for many wants)
Open their hearts before Thee, pouring out
All that they think and feel, with tears of joy;
And benedictions not unheard in heaven:
And friend in the ear of friend, where speech is free 55
To follow truth, is eloquent as they.

Then let the Book receive in these prompt lines
A just memorial; and thine eyes consent
To read that they, who mark thy course, behold
A life declining with the golden light 60
Of summer, in the season of sere leaves;[15]
See cheerfulness undamped by stealing Time;
See studied kindness flow with easy stream,
Illustrated with inborn courtesy;
And an habitual disregard of self 65
Balanced by vigilance for others’ weal.

And shall the Verse not tell of lighter gifts
With these ennobling attributes conjoined
And blended, in peculiar harmony,
By Youth’s surviving spirit? What agile grace! 70
A nymph-like liberty, in nymph-like form,
Beheld with wonder; whether floor or path
Thou tread; or sweep--borne on the managed steed--[16]
Fleet as the shadows, over down or field,
Driven by strong winds at play among the clouds. 75

Yet one word more--one farewell word--a wish
Which came, but it has passed into a prayer--
That, as thy sun in brightness is declining,
So--at an hour yet distant for _their_ sakes
Whose tender love, here faltering on the way 80
Of a diviner love, will be forgiven--
So may it set in peace, to rise again
For everlasting glory won by faith.

[11] 1837.

Countess of ----

1835.

[12] The Lowther stream passes the Castle, and joins the Eamont below Brougham Hall, near Penrith.--ED.

[13] 1837.

Towers, and stately Groves,
Bear witness for me; thou, too, Mountain-stream!

1835.

[14]

When hence …

C.

[15] Compare _September, 1819_, and _Upon the Same Occasion_, vol. vi. pp. 201, 202, especially the lines in the latter--

Me, conscious that my leaf is sere,
And yellow on the bough, etc.

ED.

[16] 1837.

Thou tread, or on the managed steed art borne,

1835.

1835

Two Evening Voluntaries, two Elegies (on the deaths of Charles Lamb and James Hogg), the lines on the Bird of Paradise, and a few sonnets, make up the poems belonging to the year 1835.--ED.

“WHY ART THOU SILENT? IS THY LOVE A PLANT”

Composed 1835 (or earlier).--Published 1835

[In the month of January,--when Dora and I were walking from Town-end, Grasmere, across the Vale, snow being on the ground, she espied, in the thick though leafless hedge, a bird’s nest half-filled with snow. Out of this comfortless appearance arose this Sonnet, which was, in fact, written without the least reference to any individual object, but merely to prove to myself that I could, if I thought fit, write in a strain that Poets have been fond of. On the 14th of February in the same year, my daughter, in a sportive mood, sent it as a Valentine, under a fictitious name, to her cousin C.W.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Of absence withers what was once so fair?
Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?
Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant-- 5
Bound to thy service with unceasing care,[17]
The mind’s least generous wish a mendicant
For nought but what thy happiness could spare.
Speak--though this soft warm heart, once free to hold
A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, 10
Be left more desolate, more dreary cold
Than a forsaken bird’s-nest filled with snow
’Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine--
Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know!

[17] 1845.

… with incessant care,

C.

(As would my deeds have been) with hourly care,

1835.

TO THE MOON

(COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SIDE,--ON THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND)

Composed 1835.--Published 1837

One of the “Evening Voluntaries.”--ED.

Wanderer! that stoop’st so low, and com’st so near
To human life’s unsettled atmosphere;
Who lov’st with Night and Silence to partake,
So might it seem, the cares of them that wake;
And, through the cottage-lattice softly peeping, 5
Dost shield from harm the humblest of the sleeping;
What pleasure once encompassed those sweet names
Which yet in thy behalf the Poet claims,
An idolizing dreamer as of yore!--
I slight them all; and, on this sea-beat shore 10
Sole-sitting, only can to thoughts attend
That bid me hail thee as the SAILOR’S FRIEND;
So call thee for heaven’s grace through thee made known
By confidence supplied and mercy shown,
When not a twinkling star or beacon’s light 15
Abates the perils of a stormy night;
And for less obvious benefits, that find
Their way, with thy pure help, to heart and mind;
Both for the adventurer starting in life’s prime;
And veteran ranging round from clime to clime, 20
Long-baffled hope’s slow fever in his veins,
And wounds and weakness oft his labour’s sole remains.

The aspiring Mountains and the winding Streams,
Empress of Night! are gladdened by thy beams;
A look of thine the wilderness pervades, 25
And penetrates the forest’s inmost shades;
Thou, chequering peaceably the minster’s gloom,
Guid’st the pale Mourner to the lost one’s tomb;
Canst reach the Prisoner--to his grated cell
Welcome, though silent and intangible!-- 30
And lives there one, of all that come and go
On the great waters toiling to and fro,
One, who has watched thee at some quiet hour
Enthroned aloft in undisputed power,
Or crossed by vapoury streaks and clouds that move 35
Catching the lustre they in part reprove--
Nor sometimes felt a fitness in thy sway
To call up thoughts that shun the glare of day,
And make the serious happier than the gay?

Yes, lovely Moon! if thou so mildly bright 40
Dost rouse, yet surely in thy own despite,
To fiercer mood the phrenzy-stricken brain,
Let me a compensating faith maintain;
That there’s a sensitive, a tender, part
Which thou canst touch in every human heart, 45
For healing and composure.--But, as least
And mightiest billows ever have confessed
Thy domination; as the whole vast Sea
Feels through her lowest depths thy sovereignty;
So shines that countenance with especial grace 50
On them who urge the keel her _plains_ to trace
Furrowing its way right onward. The most rude,
Cut off from home and country, may have stood--
Even till long gazing hath bedimmed his eye,
Or the mute rapture ended in a sigh-- 55
Touched by accordance of thy placid cheer,
With some internal lights to memory dear,
Or fancies stealing forth to soothe the breast
Tired with its daily share of earth’s unrest,--
Gentle awakenings, visitations meek; 60
A kindly influence whereof few will speak,
Though it can wet with tears the hardiest cheek.

And when thy beauty in the shadowy cave
Is hidden, buried in its monthly grave;[18]
Then, while the Sailor, ’mid an open sea 65
Swept by a favouring wind that leaves thought free,
Paces the deck--no star perhaps in sight,
And nothing save the moving ship’s own light
To cheer the long dark hours of vacant night--
Oft with his musings does thy image blend, 70
In his mind’s eye thy crescent horns ascend,
And thou art still, O Moon, that SAILOR’S FRIEND!

[18] Compare--

When thou wert hidden in thy monthly grave,

in the lines _Written in a Grotto_, p. 235.--ED.

TO THE MOON

(RYDAL)

Composed 1835.--Published 1837

One of the “Evening Voluntaries.”--ED.

Queen of the stars!--so gentle, so benign,
That ancient Fable did to thee assign,
When darkness creeping o’er thy silver brow
Warned thee these upper regions to forego,
Alternate empire in the shades below-- 5
A Bard, who, lately near the wide-spread sea
Traversed by gleaming ships, looked up to thee
With grateful thoughts, doth now thy rising hail
From the close confines of a shadowy vale.
Glory of night, conspicuous yet serene, 10
Nor less attractive when by glimpses seen
Through cloudy umbrage,[19] well might that fair face,
And all those attributes of modest grace,
In days when Fancy wrought unchecked by fear,
Down to the green earth fetch thee from thy sphere, 15
To sit in leafy woods by fountains clear!

O still belov’d (for thine, meek Power, are charms
That fascinate the very Babe in arms,
While he, uplifted towards thee, laughs outright,
Spreading his little palms in his glad Mother’s sight) 20
O still belov’d, once worshipped! Time, that frowns
In his destructive flight on earthly crowns,
Spares thy mild splendour; still those far-shot beams
Tremble on dancing waves and rippling streams
With stainless touch, as chaste as when thy praise 25
Was sung by Virgin-choirs in festal lays;
And through dark trials still dost thou explore
Thy way for increase punctual as of yore,
When teeming Matrons--yielding to rude faith
In mysteries of birth and life and death 30
And painful struggle and deliverance--prayed
Of thee to visit them with lenient aid.
What though the rites be swept away, the fanes
Extinct that echoed to the votive strains;
Yet thy mild aspect does not, cannot, cease 35
Love to promote and purity and peace;
And Fancy, unreproved, even yet may trace
Faint types of suffering in thy beamless face.

Then, silent Monitress! let us--not blind
To worlds unthought of till the searching mind 40
Of Science laid them open to mankind--
Told, also, how the voiceless heavens declare
God’s glory; and acknowledging thy share
In that blest charge; let us--without offence
To aught of highest, holiest, influence-- 45
Receive whatever good ’tis given thee to dispense.
May sage and simple, catching with one eye
The moral intimations of the sky,
Learn from thy course, where’er their own be taken,
“To look on tempests, and be never shaken”;[20] 50
To keep with faithful step the appointed way
Eclipsing or eclipsed, by night or day,
And from example of thy monthly range
Gently to brook decline and fatal change;
Meek, patient, stedfast, and with loftier scope, 55
Than thy revival yields, for gladsome hope![21]

[19] Compare _The Triad_, vol. vii. p. 181.--ED.

[20] Compare l. 6 of Shakespeare’s sonnet, beginning--

Let me not to the marriage of true minds.

ED.

[21] See a fragment of ten lines, which was written by Wordsworth in MS. after the above, in a copy of his poems. They are printed in the Appendix to this volume.--ED.

WRITTEN AFTER THE DEATH OF CHARLES LAMB

[Light will be thrown upon the tragic circumstance alluded to in this poem when, after the death of Charles Lamb’s Sister, his biographer, Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, shall be at liberty to relate particulars which could not, at the time his Memoir was written, be given to the public. Mary Lamb was ten years older than her brother, and has survived him as long a time. Were I to give way to my own feelings, I should dwell not only on her genius and intellectual powers, but upon the delicacy and refinement of manner which she maintained inviolable under most trying circumstances. She was loved and honoured by all her brother’s friends; and others, some of them strange characters, whom his philanthropic peculiarities induced him to countenance. The death of C. Lamb himself was doubtless hastened by his sorrow for that of Coleridge, to whom he had been attached from the time of their being school-fellows at Christ’s Hospital. Lamb was a good Latin scholar, and probably would have gone to college upon one of the school foundations but for the impediment in his speech. Had such been his lot, he would most likely have been preserved from the indulgences of social humours and fancies which were often injurious to himself, and causes of severe regret to his friends, without really benefiting the object of his misapplied kindness.--I.F.]

In the edition of 1837, these lines had no title. They were printed privately,--before their first appearance in that edition,--as a small pamphlet of seven pages without title or heading. A copy will be found in the fifth volume of the collection of pamphlets, forming part of the library bequeathed by the late Mr. John Forster to the South Kensington Museum. There are several readings to be found only in this privately-printed edition. The poem was placed among the “Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces.”--ED.

Composed November 19, 1835.--Published 1837

To a good Man of most dear memory[22]
This Stone is sacred.[23] Here he lies apart
From the great city where he first drew breath,
Was reared and taught; and humbly earned his bread,
To the strict labours of the merchant’s desk 5
By duty chained. Not seldom did those tasks
Tease, and the thought of time so spent depress,
His spirit, but the recompense was high;
Firm Independence, Bounty’s rightful sire;
Affections, warm as sunshine, free as air; 10
And when the precious hours of leisure came,
Knowledge and wisdom, gained from converse sweet
With books, or while he ranged the crowded streets
With a keen eye, and overflowing heart:
So genius triumphed over seeming wrong, 15
And poured out truth in works by thoughtful love
Inspired--works potent over smiles and tears.
And as round mountain-tops the lightning plays,
Thus innocently sported, breaking forth
As from a cloud of some grave sympathy, 20
Humour and wild instinctive wit, and all
The vivid flashes of his spoken words.
From the most gentle creature nursed in fields[24]
Had been derived the name he bore--a name,
Wherever christian altars have been raised, 25
Hallowed to meekness and to innocence;
And if in him meekness at times gave way,
Provoked out of herself by troubles strange,
Many and strange, that hung about his life;[25]
Still, at the centre of his being, lodged 30
A soul by resignation sanctified:
And if too often, self-reproached, he felt
That innocence belongs not to our kind,
A power that never ceased to abide in him,
Charity, ’mid the multitude of sins[26] 35
That she can cover, left not his exposed
To an unforgiving judgment from just Heaven.
O, he was good, if e’er a good Man lived!

From a reflecting mind and sorrowing heart
Those simple lines flowed with an earnest wish, 40
Though but a doubting hope, that they might serve
Fitly to guard the precious dust of him
Whose virtues called them forth. That aim is missed;
For much that truth most urgently required
Had from a faltering pen been asked in vain: 45
Yet, haply, on the printed page received,
The imperfect record, there, may stand unblamed
As long as verse of mine shall breathe the air
Of memory, or see the light of love.[27]

Thou wert a scorner of the fields, my Friend, 50
But more in show than truth;[28] and from the fields,
And from the mountains, to thy rural grave
Transported, my soothed spirit hovers o’er
Its green untrodden turf, and blowing flowers;
And taking up a voice shall speak (tho’ still 55
Awed by the theme’s peculiar sanctity
Which words less free presumed not even to touch)
Of that fraternal love, whose heaven-lit lamp
From infancy, through manhood, to the last
Of threescore years, and to thy latest hour, 60
Burnt on with ever-strengthening light, enshrined[29]
Within thy bosom.
“Wonderful” hath been
The love established between man and man,
“Passing the love of women;” and between
Man and his help-mate in fast wedlock joined 65
Through God,[30] is raised a spirit and soul of love
Without whose blissful influence Paradise
Had been no Paradise; and earth were now
A waste where creatures bearing human form,
Direst of savage beasts, would roam in fear, 70
Joyless and comfortless. Our days glide on;[31]
And let him grieve who cannot choose but grieve
That he hath been an Elm without his Vine,
And her bright dower of clustering charities,
That, round his trunk and branches, might have clung 75
Enriching and adorning. Unto thee,
Not so enriched, not so adorned, to thee
Was given (say rather thou of later birth
Wert given to her) a Sister--’tis a word
Timidly uttered, for she _lives_, the meek, 80
The self-restraining, and the ever-kind;
In whom thy reason and intelligent heart
Found--for all interests, hopes, and tender cares,
All softening, humanising, hallowing powers,
Whether withheld, or for her sake unsought-- 85
More than sufficient recompense!
Her love
(What weakness prompts the voice to tell it here?)
Was as the love of mothers; and when years,
Lifting the boy to man’s estate, had called
The long-protected to assume the part 90
Of a protector, the first filial tie
Was undissolved; and, in or out of sight,
Remained imperishably interwoven
With life itself. Thus, ’mid a shifting world,
Did they together testify of time[32] 95
And season’s difference--a double tree
With two collateral stems sprung from one root;
Such were they--such thro’ life they _might_ have been
In union, in partition only such;
Otherwise wrought the will of the Most High; 100
Yet, thro’ all visitations and all trials,
Still they were faithful; like two vessels launched
From the same beach one ocean to explore[33]
With mutual help, and sailing--to their league
True, as inexorable winds, or bars 105
Floating or fixed of polar ice, allow.[34]

But turn we rather, let my spirit turn
With thine, O silent and invisible Friend!
To those dear intervals, nor rare nor brief,
When reunited, and by choice withdrawn 110
From miscellaneous converse, ye were taught
That the remembrance of foregone distress,
And the worse fear of future ill (which oft
Doth hang around it, as a sickly child
Upon its mother) may be both alike 115
Disarmed of power to unsettle present good
So prized, and things inward and outward held
In such an even balance, that the heart
Acknowledges God’s grace, his mercy feels,
And in its depth of gratitude is still. 120

O gift divine of quiet sequestration!
The hermit, exercised in prayer and praise,
And feeding daily on the hope of heaven,
Is happy in his vow, and fondly cleaves
To life-long singleness; but happier far 125
Was to your souls, and, to the thoughts of others,
A thousand times more beautiful appeared,
Your _dual_ loneliness. The sacred tie
Is broken; yet why grieve? for Time but holds
His moiety in trust, till Joy shall lead 130
To the blest world where parting is unknown.[35]

[22] 1837.

_To the dear memory of a frail good Man_

In privately printed edition.

[23] Charles Lamb died December 27, 1834, and was buried in Edmonton Churchyard, in a spot selected by himself.--ED.