]
[Footnote J: I cannot suffer this line to pass, without noticing that it
was suggested by Mr.
[Footnote J: I cannot suffer this line to pass, without noticing that it
was suggested by Mr.
William Wordsworth
.
.
hath .
.
.
1819.
]
[Variant 92:
1836.
. . . to confound . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 93:
1836.
But now the pair have reach'd a spot
Where, shelter'd by a rocky cove, 1819.
Meanwhile the pair 1820. ]
[Variant 94:
1836.
The building seems, wall, roof, and tower, 1819. ]
[Variant 95:
1836.
Deep sighing as he pass'd along,
Quoth Peter, "In the shire of Fife,
'Mid such a ruin, following still
From land to land a lawless will, 1819. ]
[Variant 96:
1827.
Making, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 97:
1836.
As if confusing darkness came 1819.
And a confusing 1832.
While clouds of swimming darkness came
Over his eyesight with the sound. C. ]
[Variant 98: _Italics_ were first used in the edition of 1820. ]
[Variant 99:
1836.
A lonely house her dwelling was, 1819. ]
[Variant 100:
1819.
. . . her name . . . 1820.
The edition of 1827 returns to the text of 1819. ]
[Variant 101:
1820.
Distraction reigns in soul and sense,
And reason drops in impotence
From her deserted pinnacle! 1819. ]
[Variant 102:
1820.
. . . ears . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 103:
1836.
Though clamorous as a hunter's horn
Re-echoed from a naked rock,
'Tis from that tabernacle--List! 1819.
The voice, though clamorous as a horn
Re-echoed by a naked rock,
Is from . . . . 1832. ]
[Variant 104:
1819.
. . . pious . . . c. ]
[Variant 105:
1836.
'Tis said, that through prevailing grace 1819. ]
[Variant 106:
1836.
. . . shoulders scored
Meek beast! in memory of the Lord 1819.
Faithful memorial of the Lord c. ]
[Variant 107:
1836.
In memory of that solemn day 1819. ]
[Variant 108:
1836.
Towards a gate in open view
Turns up a narrow lane; . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 109:
1836.
Had gone two hundred yards, not more;
When to a lonely house he came;
He turn'd aside towards the same
And stopp'd before the door. 1819. ]
[Variant 110:
1836.
In hope . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 111:
1827.
Close at . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 112:
1832.
What could he do? --The Woman lay 1819. ]
[Variant 113:
1836.
. . . the sufferer . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 114:
1819.
. . . stair . . . 1820.
The edition of 1827 returns to the text of 1819. ]
[Variant 115:
1836.
And to the pillow gives . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 116:
1827.
And resting on . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 117:
1827.
He turns . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 118:
1836.
. . . his inward grief and fear--1819.
. . . his sorrow and his fear--C. ]
[Variant 119:
1827.
. . . had . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 120:
1836.
Towards . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 121:
1832.
. . . repressed . . . 1819. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The title in the two editions of 1819 was 'Peter Bell: A
Tale in Verse. '--Ed. ]
[Footnote B: In Dorothy Wordsworth's Alfoxden Journal the following
occurs, under date April 20, 1798: "The moon crescent. 'Peter Bell'
begun. "--Ed. ]
[Footnote C: 'Romeo and Juliet', act II. scene ii. l. 44. This motto
first appeared on the half-title of 'Peter Bell', second edition, 1819,
under the advertisement of 'Benjamin the Waggoner', its first line being
"What's a Name? " When 'The Waggoner' appeared, a few days afterwards,
the motto stood on its title-page. In the collective edition of the
Poems (1820), it disappeared; but reappeared, in its final position, in
the edition of 1827. --Ed. ]
[Footnote D: 'Julius Caesar', act I. scene ii. l. 147. --Ed. ]
[Footnote E: Compare 'The Prelude', book iv. l. 47:
'the sunny seat
Round the stone table under the dark pine. '
Ed. ]
[Footnote F: In the dialect of the North, a hawker of earthen-ware is
thus designated. --W. W. 1819 (second edition). ]
[Footnote G: Compare 'The Prelude', book v. l. 448:
'At last, the dead man, 'mid that beauteous scene
Of trees and hills and water, bolt upright
Rose, with his ghastly face, a spectre shape
Of terror. '
Ed. ]
[Footnote H: This and the next stanza were omitted from the edition of
1827, but restored in 1832. --Ed. ]
[Footnote I: The notion is very general, that the Cross on the back and
shoulders of this Animal has the origin here alluded to. --W. W. 1819.
]
[Footnote J: I cannot suffer this line to pass, without noticing that it
was suggested by Mr. Haydon's noble Picture of Christ's Entry into
Jerusalem. --W. W. 1820. Into the same picture Haydon "introduced
Wordsworth bowing in reverence and awe. " See the essay on "The Portraits
of Wordsworth" in a later volume, and the portrait itself, which will be
reproduced in the volume containing the 'Life' of the poet. --Ed. ]
[Footnote K: The first and second editions of 'Peter Bell' (1819)
contained, as frontispiece, an engraving by J. C. Bromley, after a
picture by Sir George Beaumont. In 1807, Wordsworth wrote to Sir George:
"I am quite delighted to hear of your picture for 'Peter Bell' . . . .
But remember that no poem of mine will ever be popular, and I am
afraid that the sale of 'Peter' would not carry the expense of
engraving . . . . The people would love the poem of 'Peter Bell', but the
_public_ (a very different thing) will never love it. "
Some days before Wordsworth's 'Peter Bell' was issued in 1819, another
'Peter Bell' was published by Messrs. Taylor and Hessey. It was a parody
written by J. Hamilton Reynolds, and issued as 'Peter Bell, a Lyrical
Ballad', with the sentence on its title page, "I do affirm that I am the
_real_ Simon Pure. " The preface, which follows, is too paltry to quote;
and the stanzas which make up the poem contain allusions to the more
trivial of the early "Lyrical Ballads" (Betty Foy, Harry Gill, etc. ).
Wordsworth's 'Peter Bell' was published about a week later; and Shelley
afterwards published his 'Peter Bell the Third'. Charles Lamb wrote to
Wordsworth, in May 1819:
"Dear Wordsworth--I received a copy of 'Peter Bell' a week ago, and I
hope the author will not be offended if I say I do not much relish it.
The humour, if it is meant for humour, is forced; and then the
price! --sixpence would have been dear for it. Mind, I do not mean
_your_ 'Peter Bell', but _a Peter Bell_, which preceded it about a
week, and is in every bookseller's shop window in London, the type and
paper nothing differing from the true one, the preface signed W. W. ,
and the supplementary preface quoting, as the author's words, an
extract from the supplementary preface to the 'Lyrical Ballads. ' Is
there no law against these rascals? I would have this Lambert Simnel
whipt at the cart's tail. " ('The Letters of Charles Lamb', edited by
A. Ainger, vol. ii. p. 20. )
Barron Field wrote on the title-page of his copy of the edition of
'Peter Bell', 1819,
"And his carcase was cast in the way, and the ass stood by it. "
1 Kings xiii. 24. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: This stanza, which was deleted from every edition of
'Peter Bell' after the two of 1819, was prefixed by Shelley to his poem
of 'Peter Bell the Third', and many of his contemporaries thought that
it was an invention of Shelley's. See the note which follows this poem,
p. 50. Crabb Robinson wrote in his 'Diary', June 6, 1812:
"Mrs. Basil Montagu told me she had no doubt she had suggested this
image to Wordsworth by relating to him an anecdote. A person, walking
in a friend's garden, looking in at a window, saw a company of ladies
at a table near the window, with countenances _fixed_. In an instant
he was aware of their condition, and broke the window. He saved them
from incipient suffocation. "
Wordsworth subsequently said that he had omitted the stanza only in
deference to the "unco guid. " Crabb Robinson remonstrated with him
against its exclusion. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
LINES,[A] COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE
BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR, JULY 13, 1798 [B]
Composed July 1798. --Published 1798
[July 1798. No poem of mine was composed under circumstances more
pleasant for me to remember than this. I began it upon leaving Tintern,
after crossing the Wye, and concluded it just as I was entering Bristol
in the evening, after a ramble of four or five days, with my sister. Not
a line of it was altered, and not any part of it written down till I
reached Bristol. It was published almost immediately after in the little
volume of which so much has been said in these Notes, the "Lyrical
Ballads," as first published at Bristol by Cottle. --I. F. ]
Included among the "Poems of the Imagination. "--Ed.
Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! [C] and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft [1] inland murmur. [D]--Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, 5
That [2] on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view 10
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
'Mid groves and copses. [3] Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines 15
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees! [E]
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, 20
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.
These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me [4]
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: 25
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind, [5] 30
With tranquil restoration:--feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence [6]
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts 35
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight 40
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened:--that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,--
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood 45
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things. 50
If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft--
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, 55
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart--
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, [7]
How often has my spirit turned to thee!
And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, 60
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts 65
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope,
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides 70
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
Wherever nature led: more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads, than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, 75
And their glad animal movements all gone by)
To me was all in all. --I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, 80
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, nor [8] any interest
Unborrowed from the eye. --That time is past, 85
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. [F] Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts
Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompence. For I have learned 90
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor [9] harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt 95
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air, 100
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods, 105
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create, [G]
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense, 110
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.
Nor perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more 115
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read 120
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes, [H] Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray 125
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed 130
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 135
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years, 140
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, 145
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance--
If I should be where I no more can hear 150
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence [B]--wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came 155
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love--oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, 160
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
. . . sweet . . . 1798. ]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Which . . . 1798. ]
[Variant 3:
1845.
. . . with their unripe fruits,
Among the woods and copses lose themselves,
Nor, with their green and simple hue, disturb
The wild green landscape . . . 1798.
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
Among the woods and copses, nor disturb 1802. ]
[Variant 4:
1827.
. . . Though absent long,
These forms of beauty have not been to me, 1798. ]
[Variant 5:
1798.
. . . inmost mind, MS. ]
[Variant 6:
1820.
As may have had no trivial influence 1798. ]
[Variant 7:
1798.
. . . wood, 1798 (some copies). ]
[Variant 8:
1836.
. . . or . . . 1798. ]
[Variant 9:
1800.
Not . . . 1798. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: I have not ventured to call this Poem an Ode; but it was
written with a hope that in the transitions, and the impassioned music
of the versification would be found the principal requisites of that
species of composition. --W. W. 1800. ]
[Footnote B: The title in 1798 was 'Lines, written a few miles', etc. In
1815 it assumed its final form. --Ed. ]
[Footnote C: Compare the Fenwick note to the poem 'Guilt and Sorrow'
(vol. i. p. 78) This visit, five years before, was on his way from "Sarum
plain," on foot and alone--after parting with his friend William
Calvert--to visit another friend, Robert Jones, in Wales. --Ed. ]
[Footnote D: The river is not affected by the tides a few miles above
Tintern. --W. W. 1798. ]
[Footnote E: In the edition of 1798, an additional line is here
introduced, but it is deleted in the 'errata'. It is
'And the low copses--coming from the trees. '
Ed. ]
[Footnote F: Compare 'The Prelude', book xi. l. 108:
'Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very Heaven. '
Ed. ]
[Footnote G: This line has a close resemblance to an admirable line of
Young, the exact expression of which I cannot recollect. --W. W. 1798.
It is the line:
'And half-create the wondrous world they see. '
'Night Thoughts', (Night vi. l. 427). --Ed. ]
[Footnote H: Compare, in _The Recluse_, canto "Home at Grasmere," l. 91:
Her voice was like a hidden Bird that sang,
The thought of her was like a flash of light,
Or an _unseen_ companionship.
Ed. ]
* * * * *
THERE WAS A BOY
Composed 1798. --Published 1800
[Written in Germany, 1799. This is an extract from the Poem on my own
poetical education. This practice of making an instrument of their own
fingers is known to most boys, though some are more skilful at it than
others. William Raincock of Rayrigg, a fine spirited lad, took the lead
of all my schoolfellows in this art. --I. F. ]
This "extract" will be found in the fifth book of 'The Prelude', ll.
364-397. It was included among the "Poems of the Imagination. " In the
editions of 1800 to 1832 it had no title, except in the table of
contents. In 1836, the finally adopted title of the poem was given in
the text, as well as in the table of contents. --Ed.
There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander! --many a time,
At evening, when the earliest stars began [1]
To move along the edges of the hills,
Rising or setting, would he stand alone, 5
Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake;
And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands
Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth
Uplifted, he, as through an instrument,
Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, 10
That they might answer him. --And they would shout
Across the watery vale, and shout again,
Responsive to his call,--with quivering peals,
And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud
Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild 15
Of jocund din! [2] And, when there came a pause
Of silence such as baffled his best skill: [3]
Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
Has carried far into his heart the voice 20
Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene
Would enter unawares into his mind
With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,
Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received
Into the bosom of the steady lake. 25
This boy was taken from his mates, and died [4]
In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old. [5]
Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale
Where he was born and bred: the church-yard hangs [6]
Upon a slope above the village-school; 30
And, through that church-yard when my way has led
On summer-evenings, I believe, that there [7]
A long half-hour together I have stood
Mute--looking at the grave in which he lies! [A] [8]
Wordsworth sent this fragment in MS.
[Variant 92:
1836.
. . . to confound . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 93:
1836.
But now the pair have reach'd a spot
Where, shelter'd by a rocky cove, 1819.
Meanwhile the pair 1820. ]
[Variant 94:
1836.
The building seems, wall, roof, and tower, 1819. ]
[Variant 95:
1836.
Deep sighing as he pass'd along,
Quoth Peter, "In the shire of Fife,
'Mid such a ruin, following still
From land to land a lawless will, 1819. ]
[Variant 96:
1827.
Making, . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 97:
1836.
As if confusing darkness came 1819.
And a confusing 1832.
While clouds of swimming darkness came
Over his eyesight with the sound. C. ]
[Variant 98: _Italics_ were first used in the edition of 1820. ]
[Variant 99:
1836.
A lonely house her dwelling was, 1819. ]
[Variant 100:
1819.
. . . her name . . . 1820.
The edition of 1827 returns to the text of 1819. ]
[Variant 101:
1820.
Distraction reigns in soul and sense,
And reason drops in impotence
From her deserted pinnacle! 1819. ]
[Variant 102:
1820.
. . . ears . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 103:
1836.
Though clamorous as a hunter's horn
Re-echoed from a naked rock,
'Tis from that tabernacle--List! 1819.
The voice, though clamorous as a horn
Re-echoed by a naked rock,
Is from . . . . 1832. ]
[Variant 104:
1819.
. . . pious . . . c. ]
[Variant 105:
1836.
'Tis said, that through prevailing grace 1819. ]
[Variant 106:
1836.
. . . shoulders scored
Meek beast! in memory of the Lord 1819.
Faithful memorial of the Lord c. ]
[Variant 107:
1836.
In memory of that solemn day 1819. ]
[Variant 108:
1836.
Towards a gate in open view
Turns up a narrow lane; . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 109:
1836.
Had gone two hundred yards, not more;
When to a lonely house he came;
He turn'd aside towards the same
And stopp'd before the door. 1819. ]
[Variant 110:
1836.
In hope . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 111:
1827.
Close at . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 112:
1832.
What could he do? --The Woman lay 1819. ]
[Variant 113:
1836.
. . . the sufferer . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 114:
1819.
. . . stair . . . 1820.
The edition of 1827 returns to the text of 1819. ]
[Variant 115:
1836.
And to the pillow gives . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 116:
1827.
And resting on . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 117:
1827.
He turns . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 118:
1836.
. . . his inward grief and fear--1819.
. . . his sorrow and his fear--C. ]
[Variant 119:
1827.
. . . had . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 120:
1836.
Towards . . . 1819. ]
[Variant 121:
1832.
. . . repressed . . . 1819. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The title in the two editions of 1819 was 'Peter Bell: A
Tale in Verse. '--Ed. ]
[Footnote B: In Dorothy Wordsworth's Alfoxden Journal the following
occurs, under date April 20, 1798: "The moon crescent. 'Peter Bell'
begun. "--Ed. ]
[Footnote C: 'Romeo and Juliet', act II. scene ii. l. 44. This motto
first appeared on the half-title of 'Peter Bell', second edition, 1819,
under the advertisement of 'Benjamin the Waggoner', its first line being
"What's a Name? " When 'The Waggoner' appeared, a few days afterwards,
the motto stood on its title-page. In the collective edition of the
Poems (1820), it disappeared; but reappeared, in its final position, in
the edition of 1827. --Ed. ]
[Footnote D: 'Julius Caesar', act I. scene ii. l. 147. --Ed. ]
[Footnote E: Compare 'The Prelude', book iv. l. 47:
'the sunny seat
Round the stone table under the dark pine. '
Ed. ]
[Footnote F: In the dialect of the North, a hawker of earthen-ware is
thus designated. --W. W. 1819 (second edition). ]
[Footnote G: Compare 'The Prelude', book v. l. 448:
'At last, the dead man, 'mid that beauteous scene
Of trees and hills and water, bolt upright
Rose, with his ghastly face, a spectre shape
Of terror. '
Ed. ]
[Footnote H: This and the next stanza were omitted from the edition of
1827, but restored in 1832. --Ed. ]
[Footnote I: The notion is very general, that the Cross on the back and
shoulders of this Animal has the origin here alluded to. --W. W. 1819.
]
[Footnote J: I cannot suffer this line to pass, without noticing that it
was suggested by Mr. Haydon's noble Picture of Christ's Entry into
Jerusalem. --W. W. 1820. Into the same picture Haydon "introduced
Wordsworth bowing in reverence and awe. " See the essay on "The Portraits
of Wordsworth" in a later volume, and the portrait itself, which will be
reproduced in the volume containing the 'Life' of the poet. --Ed. ]
[Footnote K: The first and second editions of 'Peter Bell' (1819)
contained, as frontispiece, an engraving by J. C. Bromley, after a
picture by Sir George Beaumont. In 1807, Wordsworth wrote to Sir George:
"I am quite delighted to hear of your picture for 'Peter Bell' . . . .
But remember that no poem of mine will ever be popular, and I am
afraid that the sale of 'Peter' would not carry the expense of
engraving . . . . The people would love the poem of 'Peter Bell', but the
_public_ (a very different thing) will never love it. "
Some days before Wordsworth's 'Peter Bell' was issued in 1819, another
'Peter Bell' was published by Messrs. Taylor and Hessey. It was a parody
written by J. Hamilton Reynolds, and issued as 'Peter Bell, a Lyrical
Ballad', with the sentence on its title page, "I do affirm that I am the
_real_ Simon Pure. " The preface, which follows, is too paltry to quote;
and the stanzas which make up the poem contain allusions to the more
trivial of the early "Lyrical Ballads" (Betty Foy, Harry Gill, etc. ).
Wordsworth's 'Peter Bell' was published about a week later; and Shelley
afterwards published his 'Peter Bell the Third'. Charles Lamb wrote to
Wordsworth, in May 1819:
"Dear Wordsworth--I received a copy of 'Peter Bell' a week ago, and I
hope the author will not be offended if I say I do not much relish it.
The humour, if it is meant for humour, is forced; and then the
price! --sixpence would have been dear for it. Mind, I do not mean
_your_ 'Peter Bell', but _a Peter Bell_, which preceded it about a
week, and is in every bookseller's shop window in London, the type and
paper nothing differing from the true one, the preface signed W. W. ,
and the supplementary preface quoting, as the author's words, an
extract from the supplementary preface to the 'Lyrical Ballads. ' Is
there no law against these rascals? I would have this Lambert Simnel
whipt at the cart's tail. " ('The Letters of Charles Lamb', edited by
A. Ainger, vol. ii. p. 20. )
Barron Field wrote on the title-page of his copy of the edition of
'Peter Bell', 1819,
"And his carcase was cast in the way, and the ass stood by it. "
1 Kings xiii. 24. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: This stanza, which was deleted from every edition of
'Peter Bell' after the two of 1819, was prefixed by Shelley to his poem
of 'Peter Bell the Third', and many of his contemporaries thought that
it was an invention of Shelley's. See the note which follows this poem,
p. 50. Crabb Robinson wrote in his 'Diary', June 6, 1812:
"Mrs. Basil Montagu told me she had no doubt she had suggested this
image to Wordsworth by relating to him an anecdote. A person, walking
in a friend's garden, looking in at a window, saw a company of ladies
at a table near the window, with countenances _fixed_. In an instant
he was aware of their condition, and broke the window. He saved them
from incipient suffocation. "
Wordsworth subsequently said that he had omitted the stanza only in
deference to the "unco guid. " Crabb Robinson remonstrated with him
against its exclusion. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
LINES,[A] COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE
BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR, JULY 13, 1798 [B]
Composed July 1798. --Published 1798
[July 1798. No poem of mine was composed under circumstances more
pleasant for me to remember than this. I began it upon leaving Tintern,
after crossing the Wye, and concluded it just as I was entering Bristol
in the evening, after a ramble of four or five days, with my sister. Not
a line of it was altered, and not any part of it written down till I
reached Bristol. It was published almost immediately after in the little
volume of which so much has been said in these Notes, the "Lyrical
Ballads," as first published at Bristol by Cottle. --I. F. ]
Included among the "Poems of the Imagination. "--Ed.
Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! [C] and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft [1] inland murmur. [D]--Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, 5
That [2] on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view 10
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
'Mid groves and copses. [3] Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines 15
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees! [E]
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, 20
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.
These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me [4]
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: 25
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind, [5] 30
With tranquil restoration:--feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence [6]
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts 35
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight 40
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened:--that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,--
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood 45
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things. 50
If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft--
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, 55
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart--
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, [7]
How often has my spirit turned to thee!
And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, 60
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts 65
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope,
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides 70
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
Wherever nature led: more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads, than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, 75
And their glad animal movements all gone by)
To me was all in all. --I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, 80
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, nor [8] any interest
Unborrowed from the eye. --That time is past, 85
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. [F] Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts
Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompence. For I have learned 90
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor [9] harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt 95
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air, 100
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods, 105
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create, [G]
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense, 110
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.
Nor perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more 115
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read 120
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes, [H] Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray 125
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed 130
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 135
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years, 140
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, 145
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance--
If I should be where I no more can hear 150
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence [B]--wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came 155
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love--oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, 160
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
. . . sweet . . . 1798. ]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Which . . . 1798. ]
[Variant 3:
1845.
. . . with their unripe fruits,
Among the woods and copses lose themselves,
Nor, with their green and simple hue, disturb
The wild green landscape . . . 1798.
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
Among the woods and copses, nor disturb 1802. ]
[Variant 4:
1827.
. . . Though absent long,
These forms of beauty have not been to me, 1798. ]
[Variant 5:
1798.
. . . inmost mind, MS. ]
[Variant 6:
1820.
As may have had no trivial influence 1798. ]
[Variant 7:
1798.
. . . wood, 1798 (some copies). ]
[Variant 8:
1836.
. . . or . . . 1798. ]
[Variant 9:
1800.
Not . . . 1798. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: I have not ventured to call this Poem an Ode; but it was
written with a hope that in the transitions, and the impassioned music
of the versification would be found the principal requisites of that
species of composition. --W. W. 1800. ]
[Footnote B: The title in 1798 was 'Lines, written a few miles', etc. In
1815 it assumed its final form. --Ed. ]
[Footnote C: Compare the Fenwick note to the poem 'Guilt and Sorrow'
(vol. i. p. 78) This visit, five years before, was on his way from "Sarum
plain," on foot and alone--after parting with his friend William
Calvert--to visit another friend, Robert Jones, in Wales. --Ed. ]
[Footnote D: The river is not affected by the tides a few miles above
Tintern. --W. W. 1798. ]
[Footnote E: In the edition of 1798, an additional line is here
introduced, but it is deleted in the 'errata'. It is
'And the low copses--coming from the trees. '
Ed. ]
[Footnote F: Compare 'The Prelude', book xi. l. 108:
'Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very Heaven. '
Ed. ]
[Footnote G: This line has a close resemblance to an admirable line of
Young, the exact expression of which I cannot recollect. --W. W. 1798.
It is the line:
'And half-create the wondrous world they see. '
'Night Thoughts', (Night vi. l. 427). --Ed. ]
[Footnote H: Compare, in _The Recluse_, canto "Home at Grasmere," l. 91:
Her voice was like a hidden Bird that sang,
The thought of her was like a flash of light,
Or an _unseen_ companionship.
Ed. ]
* * * * *
THERE WAS A BOY
Composed 1798. --Published 1800
[Written in Germany, 1799. This is an extract from the Poem on my own
poetical education. This practice of making an instrument of their own
fingers is known to most boys, though some are more skilful at it than
others. William Raincock of Rayrigg, a fine spirited lad, took the lead
of all my schoolfellows in this art. --I. F. ]
This "extract" will be found in the fifth book of 'The Prelude', ll.
364-397. It was included among the "Poems of the Imagination. " In the
editions of 1800 to 1832 it had no title, except in the table of
contents. In 1836, the finally adopted title of the poem was given in
the text, as well as in the table of contents. --Ed.
There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander! --many a time,
At evening, when the earliest stars began [1]
To move along the edges of the hills,
Rising or setting, would he stand alone, 5
Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake;
And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands
Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth
Uplifted, he, as through an instrument,
Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, 10
That they might answer him. --And they would shout
Across the watery vale, and shout again,
Responsive to his call,--with quivering peals,
And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud
Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild 15
Of jocund din! [2] And, when there came a pause
Of silence such as baffled his best skill: [3]
Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
Has carried far into his heart the voice 20
Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene
Would enter unawares into his mind
With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,
Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received
Into the bosom of the steady lake. 25
This boy was taken from his mates, and died [4]
In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old. [5]
Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale
Where he was born and bred: the church-yard hangs [6]
Upon a slope above the village-school; 30
And, through that church-yard when my way has led
On summer-evenings, I believe, that there [7]
A long half-hour together I have stood
Mute--looking at the grave in which he lies! [A] [8]
Wordsworth sent this fragment in MS.
