The birds shall sing and ocean make
A mournful murmur for _his_ sake;
And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake
Upon his senseless grave.
A mournful murmur for _his_ sake;
And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake
Upon his senseless grave.
William Wordsworth
.
.
1807.
]
[Variant 5: This and the previous stanza were omitted in the edition of
1827, but restored in that of 1832. ]
[Variant 6:
1827.
Joy and jollity be with us both!
Hearing thee, or else some other,
As merry a Brother,
I on the earth will go plodding on,
By myself, chearfully, till the day is done. 1807.
What though my course be rugged and uneven,
To prickly moors and dusty ways confined,
Yet, hearing thee, or others of thy kind,
As full of gladness and as free of heaven,
I on the earth will go plodding on,
By myself, cheerfully, till the day is done. 1820. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: So it is printed in the 'Prose Works of Wordsworth' (1876);
but the date was 1805. --Ed. ]
[Footnote B: In a MS. copy this series is called "Poems composed 'for
amusement' during a Tour, chiefly on foot. "--Ed. ]
Compare this poem with Shelley's 'Skylark', and with Wordsworth's poem,
on the same subject, written in the year 1825, and the last five stanzas
of his 'Morning Exercise' written in 1827; also with William Watson's
'First Skylark of Spring', 1895. --Ed.
* * * * *
FIDELITY
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[The young man whose death gave occasion to this poem was named Charles
Gough, and had come early in the spring to Patterdale for the sake of
angling. While attempting to cross over Helvellyn to Grasmere he slipped
from a steep part of the rock where the ice was not thawed, and
perished. His body was discovered as described in this poem. Walter
Scott heard of the accident, and both he and I, without either of us
knowing that the other had taken up the subject, each wrote a poem in
admiration of the dog's fidelity. His contains a most beautiful stanza:
"How long did'st thou think that his silence was slumber!
When the wind waved his garment how oft did'st thou start! "
I will add that the sentiment in the last four lines of the last stanza
of my verses was uttered by a shepherd with such exactness, that a
traveller, who afterwards reported his account in print, was induced to
question the man whether he had read them, which he had not. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;
He halts--and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:
And now at distance can discern 5
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing through that covert green. [1]
The Dog is not of mountain breed;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy; 10
With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:
Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in hollow or on height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear; 15
What is the creature doing here?
It was a cove, a huge recess,
That keeps, till June, December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,
A silent tarn [A] below! [B] 20
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;
From trace of human foot or hand.
There sometimes doth [2] a leaping fish 25
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
The crags repeat the raven's croak, [C]
In symphony austere;
Thither the rainbow comes--the cloud--
And mists that spread the flying shroud; 30
And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past;
But that enormous barrier holds [3] it fast.
Not free from boding thoughts, [4] a while
The Shepherd stood; then makes his way 35
O'er rocks and stones, following the Dog [5]
As quickly as he may;
Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground;
The appalled Discoverer with a sigh [6] 40
Looks round, to learn the history.
From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The Man had fallen, that place of fear!
At length upon the Shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear: 45
He instantly recalled the name, [7]
And who he was, and whence he came;
Remembered, too, the very day
On which the Traveller passed this way.
But hear a wonder, for whose sake 50
This lamentable tale I tell! [8]
A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.
The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry, 55
This Dog, had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.
Yes, proof was plain that, since the day
When this ill-fated Traveller died, [9]
The Dog had watched about the spot, 60
Or by his master's side:
How nourished here through such long time
He knows, who gave that love sublime;
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate! 65
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1820.
From which immediately leaps out
A Dog, and yelping runs about. 1807.
And instantly a Dog is seen,
Glancing from that covert green. 1815. ]
[Variant 2:
1820.
. . . does . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1837.
binds 1807. ]
[Variant 4:
1815.
Not knowing what to think 1807. ]
[Variant 5:
1837.
Towards the Dog, o'er rocks and stones, 1807. ]
[Variant 6:
1815.
Sad sight! the Shepherd with a sigh 1807. ]
[Variant 7:
And signs and circumstances dawned
Till everything was clear;
He made discovery of his name. MS. ]
[Variant 8:
1815.
But hear a wonder now, for sake
Of which this mournful Tale I tell! 1807. ]
[Variant 9:
1827.
On which the Traveller thus had died 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Tarn is a _small_ Mere or Lake mostly high up in the
mountains,--W. W. ]
[Footnote B: Compare the reference to Helvellyn, and its "deep coves,
shaped by skeleton arms," in the 'Musings near Aquapendente' (1837).
Wordsworth here describes Red Tarn, under Helvellyn, to the east; but
Charles Gough was killed on the Kepplecove side of Swirell Edge, and not
at Red Tarn. Bishop Watson of Llandaff, writing to Hayley (see
'Anecdotes of the Life of Bishop Watson', p. 440), writes about Charles
Gouche (evidently Gough). He had been lodging at "the Cherry Inn," near
Wytheburn, sometime before his death. --Ed. ]
[Footnote C: Compare 'The Excursion', book iv. ll. 1185-94. --Ed. ]
Thomas Wilkinson--referred to in the notes to 'The Solitary Reaper',
vol. ii. pp. 399, 400, and the verses 'To the Spade of a Friend', in
vol. iv. --alludes to this incident at some length in his poem, 'Emont
Vale'. Wilkinson attended the funeral of young Gough, and writes of the
incident with feeling, but without inspiration. Gough perished early in
April, and his body was not found till July 22nd, 1805. A reference to
his fate will be found in Lockhart's 'Life of Scott' (vol. ii. p. 274);
also in a letter of Mr. Luff of Patterdale, to his wife, July 23rd,
1805. Henry Crabb Robinson records (see his 'Diary, Reminiscences',
etc. , vol. ii. p. 25) a conversation with Wordsworth, in which he said
of this poem, that "he purposely made the narrative as prosaic as
possible, in order that no discredit might be thrown on the truth of the
incident. "--Ed.
* * * * *
INCIDENT CHARACTERISTIC OF A FAVOURITE DOG [A]
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[This dog I knew well. It belonged to Mrs. Wordsworth's brother, Mr.
Thomas Hutchinson, who then lived at Sockburn-on-the-Tees, a beautiful
retired situation, where I used to visit him and his sisters before my
marriage. My sister and I spent many months there after my return from
Germany in 1799--I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
On his morning rounds the Master
Goes to learn how all things fare;
Searches pasture after pasture,
Sheep and cattle eyes with care;
And, for silence or for talk, 5
He hath comrades in his walk;
Four dogs, each pair of different breed,
Distinguished two for scent, and two for speed.
See a hare before him started!
--Off they fly in earnest chase; 10
Every dog is eager-hearted,
All the four are in the race:
And the hare whom they pursue,
Knows from instinct [1] what to do;
Her hope is near: no turn she makes; 15
But, like an arrow, to the river takes.
Deep the river was, and crusted
Thinly by a one night's frost;
But the nimble Hare hath trusted
To the ice, and safely crost; so 20
She hath crost, and without heed
All are following at full speed,
When, lo! the ice, so thinly spread,
Breaks--and the greyhound, DART, is over-head!
Better fate have PRINCE and SWALLOW--25
See them cleaving to the sport!
MUSIC has no heart to follow,
Little MUSIC, she stops short.
She hath neither wish nor heart,
Hers is now another part: 30
A loving creature she, and brave!
And fondly strives [2] her struggling friend to save.
From the brink her paws she stretches,
Very hands as you would say!
And afflicting moans she fetches, 35
As he breaks the ice away.
For herself she hath no fears,--
Him alone she sees and hears,--
Makes efforts with complainings; nor gives o'er
Until her fellow sinks to re-appear no more. [3] 40
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
Hath an instinct . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1815.
And doth her best . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1837.
Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o'er
Until her Fellow sunk, and reappear'd no more. 1807.
. . . sank, . . . 1820. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In 1807 and 1815 the title was 'Incident, Characteristic of
a favourite Dog, which belonged to a Friend of the Author'. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF THE SAME DOG
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[Was written at the same time, 1805. The Dog Music died, aged and blind,
by falling into a draw-well at Gallow] Hill, to the great grief of the
family of the Hutchinsons, who, as has been before mentioned, had
removed to that place from Sockburn. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
Lie [1] here, without a record of thy worth,
Beneath a [2] covering of the common earth!
It is not from unwillingness to praise,
Or want of love, that here no Stone we raise;
More thou deserv'st; but _this_ man gives to man, 5
Brother to brother, _this_ is all we can.
Yet [3] they to whom thy virtues made thee dear
Shall find thee through all changes of the year:
This Oak points out thy grave; the silent tree
Will gladly stand a monument of thee. 10
We grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; [4]
And willingly have laid thee here at last:
For thou hadst lived till every thing that cheers
In thee had yielded to the weight of years;
Extreme old age had wasted thee away, 15
And left thee but a glimmering of the day;
Thy ears were deaf, and feeble were thy knees,--
I saw thee stagger in the summer breeze,
Too weak to stand against its sportive breath,
And ready for the gentlest stroke of death. 20
It came, and we were glad; yet tears were shed;
Both man and woman wept when thou wert dead;
Not only for a thousand thoughts that were,
Old household thoughts, in which thou hadst thy share;
But for some precious boons vouchsafed to thee, 25
Found scarcely any where in like degree!
For love, that comes wherever life and sense
Are given by God, in thee was most intense; [5]
A chain of heart, a feeling of the mind,
A tender sympathy, which did thee bind 30
Not only to us Men, but to thy Kind:
Yea, for thy fellow-brutes in thee we saw
A soul [6] of love, love's intellectual law:--
Hence, if we wept, it was not done in shame;
Our tears from passion and from reason came, 35
And, therefore, shalt thou be an honoured name!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: In the editions of 1807 to 1820 the following lines began
the poem. They were withdrawn in 1827.
Lie here sequester'd:--be this little mound
For ever thine, and be it holy ground! ]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Beneath the . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
But . . . MS. ]
[Variant 4:
1837.
I pray'd for thee, and that thy end were past; 1807.
I grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; 1820. ]
[Variant 5:
1837.
For love, that comes to all; the holy sense,
Best gift of God, in thee was most intense; 1807. ]
[Variant 6:
1837.
The soul . . . 1807. ]
* * * * *
TO THE DAISY (#4)
Composed 1805. --Published 1815
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
Sweet Flower! belike one day to have
A place upon thy Poet's grave,
I welcome thee once more:
But He, who was on land, at sea,
My Brother, too, in loving thee, 5
Although he loved more silently,
Sleeps by his native shore.
Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day
When to that Ship he bent his way,
To govern and to guide: 10
His wish was gained: a little time
Would bring him back in manhood's prime
And free for life, these hills to climb;
With all his wants supplied.
And full of hope day followed day 15
While that stout Ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight;
The May had then made all things green;
And, floating there, in pomp serene,
That Ship was goodly to be seen, 20
His pride and his delight!
Yet then, when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought:
In more than happy mood
To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers! 25
He then would steal at leisure hours,
And loved you glittering in your bowers,
A starry multitude.
But hark the word! --the ship is gone;--
Returns from her long course: [1]--anon 30
Sets sail:--in season due,
Once more on English earth they stand:
But, when a third time from the land
They parted, sorrow was at hand
For Him and for his crew. 35
Ill-fated Vessel! --ghastly shock!
--At length delivered from the rock,
The deep she hath regained;
And through the stormy night they steer;
Labouring for life, in hope and fear, 40
To reach a safer shore [2]--how near,
Yet not to be attained!
"Silence! " the brave Commander cried;
To that calm word a shriek replied,
It was the last death-shriek. 45
--A few (my soul oft sees that sight)
Survive upon the tall mast's height; [3]
But one dear remnant of the night--
For Him in vain I seek.
Six weeks beneath the moving sea 50
He lay in slumber quietly;
Unforced by wind or wave
To quit the Ship for which he died,
(All claims of duty satisfied;)
And there they found him at her side; 55
And bore him to the grave.
Vain service! yet not vainly done
For this, if other end were none,
That He, who had been cast
Upon a way of life unmeet 60
For such a gentle Soul and sweet,
Should find an undisturbed retreat
Near what he loved, at last--
That neighbourhood of grove and field
To Him a resting-place should yield, 65
A meek man and a brave!
The birds shall sing and ocean make
A mournful murmur for _his_ sake;
And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake
Upon his senseless grave. [4] 70
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
From her long course returns:--. . . 1815. ]
[Variant 2:
1837.
Towards a safer shore--. . . 1815. ]
[Variant 3:
1837
--A few appear by morning light,
Preserved upon the tall mast's height:
Oft in my Soul I see that sight; 1815. ]
[Variant 4: In the edition of 1827 and subsequent ones, Wordsworth here
inserted a footnote, asking the reader to refer to No. VI. of the "Poems
on the Naming of Places," beginning "When, to the attractions of the
busy world," p. 66. His note of 1837 refers also to the poem which there
precedes the present one, viz. the 'Elegiac Stanzas. '--Ed. ]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC STANZAS [A]
SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM,
PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[Sir George Beaumont painted two pictures of this subject, one of which
he gave to Mrs. Wordsworth, saying she ought to have it; but Lady
Beaumont interfered, and after Sir George's death she gave it to Sir
Uvedale Price, at whose house at Foxley I have seen it. --I. F. ]
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! 5
So like, so very like, was day to day!
Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there;
It trembled, but it never passed away.
How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep;
No mood, which season takes away, or brings: 10
I could have fancied that the mighty Deep
Was even the gentlest of all gentle Things.
Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand,
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,
The light that never was, on sea or land, 15
The consecration, and the Poet's dream; [1]
I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile
Amid a world how different from this!
Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;
On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss. 20
Thou shouldst have seemed a treasure-house divine [2]
Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;--
Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine
The very sweetest had to thee been given.
A Picture had it been of lasting ease, 25
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,
Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.
Such, in the fond illusion [3] of my heart,
Such Picture would I at that time have made: 30
And seen the soul of truth in every part,
A stedfast peace that might not be betrayed. [4]
So once it would have been,--'tis so no more;
I have submitted to a new control:
A power is gone, which nothing can restore; 35
A deep distress hath humanised my Soul.
Not for a moment could I now behold
A smiling sea, and be what I have been:
The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old;
This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. 40
Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the Friend,
If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore,
This work of thine I blame not, but commend;
This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.
O 'tis a passionate Work! --yet wise and well, 45
Well chosen is the spirit that is here;
That Hulk which labours in the deadly swell,
This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!
And this huge Castle, standing here sublime,
1 love to see the look with which it braves, 50
Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time,
The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.
Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone,
Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind!
Such happiness, wherever it be known, 55
Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.
But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,
And frequent sights of what is to be borne!
Such sights, or worse, as are before me here. --
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. 60
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1807.
and add a gleam,
The lustre, known to neither sea nor land,
But borrowed from the youthful Poet's dream; 1820.
. . . the gleam, 1827.
The edition of 1832 returns to the text of 1807. [a]]
[Variant 2:
1845.
. . . a treasure-house, a mine 1807.
The whole of this stanza was omitted in the editions of 1820-1843. ]
[Variant 3:
1815.
. . . delusion . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 4:
1837.
A faith, a trust, that could not be betray'd. 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The original title, in MS, was 'Verses suggested',
etc,--Ed. ]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: Many years ago Principal Shairp wrote to me,
"Have you noted how the two lines, 'The light that never was,' etc. ,
stood in the edition of 1827? I know no other such instance of a
change from commonplace to perfection of ideality. "
The Principal had not remembered at the time that the "perfection of
ideality" was in the original edition of 1807. The curious thing is that
the prosaic version of 1820 and 1827 ever took its place. Wordsworth's
return to his original reading was one of the wisest changes he
introduced into the text of 1832. --Ed. ]
There is a Peele Castle, on a small rocky island, close to the town of
Peele, in the Isle of Man; yet separated from it, much as St. Michael's
Mount in Cornwall is separated from the mainland. This castle was
believed by many to be the one which Sir George painted, and which gave
rise to the foregoing lines. I visited it in 1879, being then ignorant
that any other Peele Castle existed; and although, the day being calm,
and the season summer, I thought Sir George had idealized his subject
much--(as I had just left Coleorton, where the picture still exists)--I
accepted the customary opinion. But I am now convinced, both from the
testimony of the Arnold family, [B] and as the result of a visit to Piel
Castle, near Barrow in Furness, that Wordsworth refers to it. The late
Bishop of Lincoln, in his uncle's 'Memoirs' (vol. i. p. 299), quotes the
line
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged pile,"
and adds,
"He had spent four weeks there of a college summer vacation at the
house of his cousin, Mr. Barker. "
This house was at Rampside, the village opposite Piel, on the coast of
Lancashire. The "rugged pile," too, now "cased in the unfeeling armour
of old time," painted by Beaumont, is obviously this Piel Castle near
Barrow. I took the engraving of his picture with me, when visiting it:
and although Sir George--after the manner of landscape artists of his
day--took many liberties with his subjects, it is apparent that it was
this, and not Peele Castle in Mona, that he painted. The "four summer
weeks" referred to in the first stanza, were those spent at Piel during
the year 1794.
With the last verse of these 'Elegiac Stanzas' compare stanzas ten and
eleven of the 'Ode, Intimations of Immortality', vol. viii.
One of the two pictures of "Peele Castle in a Storm"--engraved by S. W.
Reynolds, and published in the editions of Wordsworth's poems of 1815
and 1820--is still in the Beaumont Gallery at Coleorton Hall.
The poem is so memorable that I have arranged to make this picture of
"Peele Castle in a Storm," the vignette to vol. xv. of this edition. It
deserves to be noted that it was to the pleading of Barron Field that we
owe the restoration of the original line of 1807,
'The light that never was, on sea or land. '
An interesting account of Piel Castle will be found in Hearne and
Byrne's 'Antiquities'. It was built by the Abbot of Furness in the first
year of the reign of Edward III. --Ed.
[Footnote B: Miss Arnold wrote to me, in December 1893:
"I have never doubted that the Peele Castle of Wordsworth is the Piel
off Walney Island. I know that my brother Matthew so believed, and I
went with him some years ago from Furness Abbey over to Piel, visiting
it as the subject of the picture and the poem. "
Ed. ]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC VERSES,
IN MEMORY OF MY BROTHER, JOHN WORDSWORTH, COMMANDER OF THE E. I.
COMPANY'S SHIP, 'THE EARL OF ABERGAVENNY', IN WHICH HE PERISHED BY
CALAMITOUS SHIPWRECK, FEB. 6TH, 1805.
Composed near the Mountain track, that leads from Grasmere through
Grisdale Hawes, where it descends towards Patterdale.
Composed 1805. --Published 1842
[ "Here did we stop; and here looked round,
While each into himself descends. "
The point is two or three yards below the outlet of Grisedale Tarn, on a
foot-road by which a horse may pass to Patterdale--a ridge of Helvellyn
on the left, and the summit of Fairfield on the right. --I. F. ]
This poem was included among the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
I The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
Deliberate and slow:
Lord of the air, he took his flight; 5
Oh! could he on that woeful night
Have lent his wing, my Brother dear,
For one poor moment's space to Thee,
And all who struggled with the Sea,
When safety was so near. 10
II Thus in the weakness of my heart
I spoke (but let that pang be still)
When rising from the rock at will,
I saw the Bird depart.
And let me calmly bless the Power 15
That meets me in this unknown Flower,
Affecting type of him I mourn!
With calmness suffer and believe,
And grieve, and know that I must grieve,
Not cheerless, though forlorn. 20
III Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.
Hidden was Grasmere Vale from sight, 25
Our home and his, his heart's delight,
His quiet heart's selected home.
But time before him melts away,
And he hath feeling of a day
Of blessedness to come. 30
IV Full soon in sorrow did I weep,
Taught that the mutual hope was dust,
In sorrow, but for higher trust,
How miserably deep!
All vanished in a single word, 35
A breath, a sound, and scarcely heard.
Sea--Ship--drowned--Shipwreck--so it came,
The meek, the brave, the good, was gone;
He who had been our living John
Was nothing but a name. 40
V That was indeed a parting! oh,
Glad am I, glad that it is past;
For there were some on whom it cast
Unutterable woe.
But they as well as I have gains;--45
From many a humble source, to pains
Like these, there comes a mild release;
Even here I feel it, even this Plant
Is in its beauty ministrant
To comfort and to peace. 50
VI He would have loved thy modest grace,
Meek Flower! To Him I would have said,
"It grows upon its native bed
Beside our Parting-place;
There, cleaving to the ground, it lies 55
With multitude of purple eyes,
Spangling a cushion green like moss;
But we will see it, joyful tide!
Some day, to see it in its pride,
The mountain will we cross. " 60
VII--Brother and friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone
Stand--sacred as a Shrine;
And to the few who pass this way, 65
Traveller or Shepherd, let it say,
Long as these mighty rocks endure,--
Oh do not Thou too fondly brood,
Although deserving of all good,
On any earthly hope, however pure! [A] 70
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: See 2nd vol. of the Author's Poems, page 298, and 5th vol. ,
pages 311 and 314, among Elegiac Pieces. --W. W. 1842.
These poems are those respectively beginning:
"When, to the attractions of the busy world . . . "
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! . . . "
"Sweet Flower! belike one day to have . . . "
Ed.
The plant alluded to is the Moss Campion (Silene acaulis, of Linnaeus).
See note at the end of the volume. --W. W. 1842.
See among the "Poems on the Naming of Places," No. VI. --W. W. 1845.
The note is as follows:
"Moss Campion ('Silene acaulis'). This most beautiful plant is scarce
in England, though it is found in great abundance upon the mountains
of Scotland. The first specimen I ever saw of it in its native bed was
singularly fine, the tuft or cushion being at least eight inches
diameter, and the root proportionably thick. I have only met with it
in two places among our mountains, in both of which I have since
sought for it in vain.
Botanists will not, I hope, take it ill, if I caution them against
carrying off inconsiderately rare and beautiful plants. This has often
been done, particularly from Ingleborough and other mountains in
Yorkshire, till the species have totally disappeared, to the great
regret of lovers of nature living near the places where they
grew. "--W. W. 1842.
See also 'The Prelude', book xiv. 1. 419, p. 379. --Ed. ]
This poem underwent no change in successive editions.
At a meeting of "The Wordsworth Society" held at Grasmere, in July 1881,
it was proposed by one of the members, the Rev. H. D. Rawnsley, then
Vicar of Wray, to erect some memorial at the parting-place of the
brothers. The brothers John and William Wordsworth parted at Grisedale
Tarn, on the 29th September 1800. The originator of the idea wrote thus
of it in June 1882:
"A proposition, made by one of its members to the Wordsworth Society
when it met in Grasmere in 1881, to mark the spot in the Grisedale
Pass of Wordsworth's parting from his brother John--and to carry out a
wish the poet seems to have hinted at in the last of his elegiac
verses in memory of that parting--is now being put into effect. It has
been determined, after correspondence with Lord Coleridge, Dr.
Cradock, Professor Knight, and Mr. Hills, to have inscribed--(on the
native rock, if possible)--the first four lines of Stanzas III. and
VII. of these verses:
'Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.
. . .
Brother and friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone
Stand--sacred as a Shrine.
[Variant 5: This and the previous stanza were omitted in the edition of
1827, but restored in that of 1832. ]
[Variant 6:
1827.
Joy and jollity be with us both!
Hearing thee, or else some other,
As merry a Brother,
I on the earth will go plodding on,
By myself, chearfully, till the day is done. 1807.
What though my course be rugged and uneven,
To prickly moors and dusty ways confined,
Yet, hearing thee, or others of thy kind,
As full of gladness and as free of heaven,
I on the earth will go plodding on,
By myself, cheerfully, till the day is done. 1820. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: So it is printed in the 'Prose Works of Wordsworth' (1876);
but the date was 1805. --Ed. ]
[Footnote B: In a MS. copy this series is called "Poems composed 'for
amusement' during a Tour, chiefly on foot. "--Ed. ]
Compare this poem with Shelley's 'Skylark', and with Wordsworth's poem,
on the same subject, written in the year 1825, and the last five stanzas
of his 'Morning Exercise' written in 1827; also with William Watson's
'First Skylark of Spring', 1895. --Ed.
* * * * *
FIDELITY
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[The young man whose death gave occasion to this poem was named Charles
Gough, and had come early in the spring to Patterdale for the sake of
angling. While attempting to cross over Helvellyn to Grasmere he slipped
from a steep part of the rock where the ice was not thawed, and
perished. His body was discovered as described in this poem. Walter
Scott heard of the accident, and both he and I, without either of us
knowing that the other had taken up the subject, each wrote a poem in
admiration of the dog's fidelity. His contains a most beautiful stanza:
"How long did'st thou think that his silence was slumber!
When the wind waved his garment how oft did'st thou start! "
I will add that the sentiment in the last four lines of the last stanza
of my verses was uttered by a shepherd with such exactness, that a
traveller, who afterwards reported his account in print, was induced to
question the man whether he had read them, which he had not. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;
He halts--and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:
And now at distance can discern 5
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing through that covert green. [1]
The Dog is not of mountain breed;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy; 10
With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:
Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in hollow or on height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear; 15
What is the creature doing here?
It was a cove, a huge recess,
That keeps, till June, December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,
A silent tarn [A] below! [B] 20
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;
From trace of human foot or hand.
There sometimes doth [2] a leaping fish 25
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
The crags repeat the raven's croak, [C]
In symphony austere;
Thither the rainbow comes--the cloud--
And mists that spread the flying shroud; 30
And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past;
But that enormous barrier holds [3] it fast.
Not free from boding thoughts, [4] a while
The Shepherd stood; then makes his way 35
O'er rocks and stones, following the Dog [5]
As quickly as he may;
Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground;
The appalled Discoverer with a sigh [6] 40
Looks round, to learn the history.
From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The Man had fallen, that place of fear!
At length upon the Shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear: 45
He instantly recalled the name, [7]
And who he was, and whence he came;
Remembered, too, the very day
On which the Traveller passed this way.
But hear a wonder, for whose sake 50
This lamentable tale I tell! [8]
A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.
The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry, 55
This Dog, had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.
Yes, proof was plain that, since the day
When this ill-fated Traveller died, [9]
The Dog had watched about the spot, 60
Or by his master's side:
How nourished here through such long time
He knows, who gave that love sublime;
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate! 65
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1820.
From which immediately leaps out
A Dog, and yelping runs about. 1807.
And instantly a Dog is seen,
Glancing from that covert green. 1815. ]
[Variant 2:
1820.
. . . does . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1837.
binds 1807. ]
[Variant 4:
1815.
Not knowing what to think 1807. ]
[Variant 5:
1837.
Towards the Dog, o'er rocks and stones, 1807. ]
[Variant 6:
1815.
Sad sight! the Shepherd with a sigh 1807. ]
[Variant 7:
And signs and circumstances dawned
Till everything was clear;
He made discovery of his name. MS. ]
[Variant 8:
1815.
But hear a wonder now, for sake
Of which this mournful Tale I tell! 1807. ]
[Variant 9:
1827.
On which the Traveller thus had died 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Tarn is a _small_ Mere or Lake mostly high up in the
mountains,--W. W. ]
[Footnote B: Compare the reference to Helvellyn, and its "deep coves,
shaped by skeleton arms," in the 'Musings near Aquapendente' (1837).
Wordsworth here describes Red Tarn, under Helvellyn, to the east; but
Charles Gough was killed on the Kepplecove side of Swirell Edge, and not
at Red Tarn. Bishop Watson of Llandaff, writing to Hayley (see
'Anecdotes of the Life of Bishop Watson', p. 440), writes about Charles
Gouche (evidently Gough). He had been lodging at "the Cherry Inn," near
Wytheburn, sometime before his death. --Ed. ]
[Footnote C: Compare 'The Excursion', book iv. ll. 1185-94. --Ed. ]
Thomas Wilkinson--referred to in the notes to 'The Solitary Reaper',
vol. ii. pp. 399, 400, and the verses 'To the Spade of a Friend', in
vol. iv. --alludes to this incident at some length in his poem, 'Emont
Vale'. Wilkinson attended the funeral of young Gough, and writes of the
incident with feeling, but without inspiration. Gough perished early in
April, and his body was not found till July 22nd, 1805. A reference to
his fate will be found in Lockhart's 'Life of Scott' (vol. ii. p. 274);
also in a letter of Mr. Luff of Patterdale, to his wife, July 23rd,
1805. Henry Crabb Robinson records (see his 'Diary, Reminiscences',
etc. , vol. ii. p. 25) a conversation with Wordsworth, in which he said
of this poem, that "he purposely made the narrative as prosaic as
possible, in order that no discredit might be thrown on the truth of the
incident. "--Ed.
* * * * *
INCIDENT CHARACTERISTIC OF A FAVOURITE DOG [A]
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[This dog I knew well. It belonged to Mrs. Wordsworth's brother, Mr.
Thomas Hutchinson, who then lived at Sockburn-on-the-Tees, a beautiful
retired situation, where I used to visit him and his sisters before my
marriage. My sister and I spent many months there after my return from
Germany in 1799--I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
On his morning rounds the Master
Goes to learn how all things fare;
Searches pasture after pasture,
Sheep and cattle eyes with care;
And, for silence or for talk, 5
He hath comrades in his walk;
Four dogs, each pair of different breed,
Distinguished two for scent, and two for speed.
See a hare before him started!
--Off they fly in earnest chase; 10
Every dog is eager-hearted,
All the four are in the race:
And the hare whom they pursue,
Knows from instinct [1] what to do;
Her hope is near: no turn she makes; 15
But, like an arrow, to the river takes.
Deep the river was, and crusted
Thinly by a one night's frost;
But the nimble Hare hath trusted
To the ice, and safely crost; so 20
She hath crost, and without heed
All are following at full speed,
When, lo! the ice, so thinly spread,
Breaks--and the greyhound, DART, is over-head!
Better fate have PRINCE and SWALLOW--25
See them cleaving to the sport!
MUSIC has no heart to follow,
Little MUSIC, she stops short.
She hath neither wish nor heart,
Hers is now another part: 30
A loving creature she, and brave!
And fondly strives [2] her struggling friend to save.
From the brink her paws she stretches,
Very hands as you would say!
And afflicting moans she fetches, 35
As he breaks the ice away.
For herself she hath no fears,--
Him alone she sees and hears,--
Makes efforts with complainings; nor gives o'er
Until her fellow sinks to re-appear no more. [3] 40
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
Hath an instinct . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 2:
1815.
And doth her best . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1837.
Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o'er
Until her Fellow sunk, and reappear'd no more. 1807.
. . . sank, . . . 1820. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In 1807 and 1815 the title was 'Incident, Characteristic of
a favourite Dog, which belonged to a Friend of the Author'. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF THE SAME DOG
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[Was written at the same time, 1805. The Dog Music died, aged and blind,
by falling into a draw-well at Gallow] Hill, to the great grief of the
family of the Hutchinsons, who, as has been before mentioned, had
removed to that place from Sockburn. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
Lie [1] here, without a record of thy worth,
Beneath a [2] covering of the common earth!
It is not from unwillingness to praise,
Or want of love, that here no Stone we raise;
More thou deserv'st; but _this_ man gives to man, 5
Brother to brother, _this_ is all we can.
Yet [3] they to whom thy virtues made thee dear
Shall find thee through all changes of the year:
This Oak points out thy grave; the silent tree
Will gladly stand a monument of thee. 10
We grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; [4]
And willingly have laid thee here at last:
For thou hadst lived till every thing that cheers
In thee had yielded to the weight of years;
Extreme old age had wasted thee away, 15
And left thee but a glimmering of the day;
Thy ears were deaf, and feeble were thy knees,--
I saw thee stagger in the summer breeze,
Too weak to stand against its sportive breath,
And ready for the gentlest stroke of death. 20
It came, and we were glad; yet tears were shed;
Both man and woman wept when thou wert dead;
Not only for a thousand thoughts that were,
Old household thoughts, in which thou hadst thy share;
But for some precious boons vouchsafed to thee, 25
Found scarcely any where in like degree!
For love, that comes wherever life and sense
Are given by God, in thee was most intense; [5]
A chain of heart, a feeling of the mind,
A tender sympathy, which did thee bind 30
Not only to us Men, but to thy Kind:
Yea, for thy fellow-brutes in thee we saw
A soul [6] of love, love's intellectual law:--
Hence, if we wept, it was not done in shame;
Our tears from passion and from reason came, 35
And, therefore, shalt thou be an honoured name!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: In the editions of 1807 to 1820 the following lines began
the poem. They were withdrawn in 1827.
Lie here sequester'd:--be this little mound
For ever thine, and be it holy ground! ]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Beneath the . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
But . . . MS. ]
[Variant 4:
1837.
I pray'd for thee, and that thy end were past; 1807.
I grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; 1820. ]
[Variant 5:
1837.
For love, that comes to all; the holy sense,
Best gift of God, in thee was most intense; 1807. ]
[Variant 6:
1837.
The soul . . . 1807. ]
* * * * *
TO THE DAISY (#4)
Composed 1805. --Published 1815
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
Sweet Flower! belike one day to have
A place upon thy Poet's grave,
I welcome thee once more:
But He, who was on land, at sea,
My Brother, too, in loving thee, 5
Although he loved more silently,
Sleeps by his native shore.
Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day
When to that Ship he bent his way,
To govern and to guide: 10
His wish was gained: a little time
Would bring him back in manhood's prime
And free for life, these hills to climb;
With all his wants supplied.
And full of hope day followed day 15
While that stout Ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight;
The May had then made all things green;
And, floating there, in pomp serene,
That Ship was goodly to be seen, 20
His pride and his delight!
Yet then, when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought:
In more than happy mood
To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers! 25
He then would steal at leisure hours,
And loved you glittering in your bowers,
A starry multitude.
But hark the word! --the ship is gone;--
Returns from her long course: [1]--anon 30
Sets sail:--in season due,
Once more on English earth they stand:
But, when a third time from the land
They parted, sorrow was at hand
For Him and for his crew. 35
Ill-fated Vessel! --ghastly shock!
--At length delivered from the rock,
The deep she hath regained;
And through the stormy night they steer;
Labouring for life, in hope and fear, 40
To reach a safer shore [2]--how near,
Yet not to be attained!
"Silence! " the brave Commander cried;
To that calm word a shriek replied,
It was the last death-shriek. 45
--A few (my soul oft sees that sight)
Survive upon the tall mast's height; [3]
But one dear remnant of the night--
For Him in vain I seek.
Six weeks beneath the moving sea 50
He lay in slumber quietly;
Unforced by wind or wave
To quit the Ship for which he died,
(All claims of duty satisfied;)
And there they found him at her side; 55
And bore him to the grave.
Vain service! yet not vainly done
For this, if other end were none,
That He, who had been cast
Upon a way of life unmeet 60
For such a gentle Soul and sweet,
Should find an undisturbed retreat
Near what he loved, at last--
That neighbourhood of grove and field
To Him a resting-place should yield, 65
A meek man and a brave!
The birds shall sing and ocean make
A mournful murmur for _his_ sake;
And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake
Upon his senseless grave. [4] 70
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
From her long course returns:--. . . 1815. ]
[Variant 2:
1837.
Towards a safer shore--. . . 1815. ]
[Variant 3:
1837
--A few appear by morning light,
Preserved upon the tall mast's height:
Oft in my Soul I see that sight; 1815. ]
[Variant 4: In the edition of 1827 and subsequent ones, Wordsworth here
inserted a footnote, asking the reader to refer to No. VI. of the "Poems
on the Naming of Places," beginning "When, to the attractions of the
busy world," p. 66. His note of 1837 refers also to the poem which there
precedes the present one, viz. the 'Elegiac Stanzas. '--Ed. ]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC STANZAS [A]
SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM,
PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[Sir George Beaumont painted two pictures of this subject, one of which
he gave to Mrs. Wordsworth, saying she ought to have it; but Lady
Beaumont interfered, and after Sir George's death she gave it to Sir
Uvedale Price, at whose house at Foxley I have seen it. --I. F. ]
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! 5
So like, so very like, was day to day!
Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there;
It trembled, but it never passed away.
How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep;
No mood, which season takes away, or brings: 10
I could have fancied that the mighty Deep
Was even the gentlest of all gentle Things.
Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand,
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,
The light that never was, on sea or land, 15
The consecration, and the Poet's dream; [1]
I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile
Amid a world how different from this!
Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;
On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss. 20
Thou shouldst have seemed a treasure-house divine [2]
Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;--
Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine
The very sweetest had to thee been given.
A Picture had it been of lasting ease, 25
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,
Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.
Such, in the fond illusion [3] of my heart,
Such Picture would I at that time have made: 30
And seen the soul of truth in every part,
A stedfast peace that might not be betrayed. [4]
So once it would have been,--'tis so no more;
I have submitted to a new control:
A power is gone, which nothing can restore; 35
A deep distress hath humanised my Soul.
Not for a moment could I now behold
A smiling sea, and be what I have been:
The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old;
This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. 40
Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the Friend,
If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore,
This work of thine I blame not, but commend;
This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.
O 'tis a passionate Work! --yet wise and well, 45
Well chosen is the spirit that is here;
That Hulk which labours in the deadly swell,
This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!
And this huge Castle, standing here sublime,
1 love to see the look with which it braves, 50
Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time,
The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.
Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone,
Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind!
Such happiness, wherever it be known, 55
Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.
But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,
And frequent sights of what is to be borne!
Such sights, or worse, as are before me here. --
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. 60
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1807.
and add a gleam,
The lustre, known to neither sea nor land,
But borrowed from the youthful Poet's dream; 1820.
. . . the gleam, 1827.
The edition of 1832 returns to the text of 1807. [a]]
[Variant 2:
1845.
. . . a treasure-house, a mine 1807.
The whole of this stanza was omitted in the editions of 1820-1843. ]
[Variant 3:
1815.
. . . delusion . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 4:
1837.
A faith, a trust, that could not be betray'd. 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The original title, in MS, was 'Verses suggested',
etc,--Ed. ]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: Many years ago Principal Shairp wrote to me,
"Have you noted how the two lines, 'The light that never was,' etc. ,
stood in the edition of 1827? I know no other such instance of a
change from commonplace to perfection of ideality. "
The Principal had not remembered at the time that the "perfection of
ideality" was in the original edition of 1807. The curious thing is that
the prosaic version of 1820 and 1827 ever took its place. Wordsworth's
return to his original reading was one of the wisest changes he
introduced into the text of 1832. --Ed. ]
There is a Peele Castle, on a small rocky island, close to the town of
Peele, in the Isle of Man; yet separated from it, much as St. Michael's
Mount in Cornwall is separated from the mainland. This castle was
believed by many to be the one which Sir George painted, and which gave
rise to the foregoing lines. I visited it in 1879, being then ignorant
that any other Peele Castle existed; and although, the day being calm,
and the season summer, I thought Sir George had idealized his subject
much--(as I had just left Coleorton, where the picture still exists)--I
accepted the customary opinion. But I am now convinced, both from the
testimony of the Arnold family, [B] and as the result of a visit to Piel
Castle, near Barrow in Furness, that Wordsworth refers to it. The late
Bishop of Lincoln, in his uncle's 'Memoirs' (vol. i. p. 299), quotes the
line
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged pile,"
and adds,
"He had spent four weeks there of a college summer vacation at the
house of his cousin, Mr. Barker. "
This house was at Rampside, the village opposite Piel, on the coast of
Lancashire. The "rugged pile," too, now "cased in the unfeeling armour
of old time," painted by Beaumont, is obviously this Piel Castle near
Barrow. I took the engraving of his picture with me, when visiting it:
and although Sir George--after the manner of landscape artists of his
day--took many liberties with his subjects, it is apparent that it was
this, and not Peele Castle in Mona, that he painted. The "four summer
weeks" referred to in the first stanza, were those spent at Piel during
the year 1794.
With the last verse of these 'Elegiac Stanzas' compare stanzas ten and
eleven of the 'Ode, Intimations of Immortality', vol. viii.
One of the two pictures of "Peele Castle in a Storm"--engraved by S. W.
Reynolds, and published in the editions of Wordsworth's poems of 1815
and 1820--is still in the Beaumont Gallery at Coleorton Hall.
The poem is so memorable that I have arranged to make this picture of
"Peele Castle in a Storm," the vignette to vol. xv. of this edition. It
deserves to be noted that it was to the pleading of Barron Field that we
owe the restoration of the original line of 1807,
'The light that never was, on sea or land. '
An interesting account of Piel Castle will be found in Hearne and
Byrne's 'Antiquities'. It was built by the Abbot of Furness in the first
year of the reign of Edward III. --Ed.
[Footnote B: Miss Arnold wrote to me, in December 1893:
"I have never doubted that the Peele Castle of Wordsworth is the Piel
off Walney Island. I know that my brother Matthew so believed, and I
went with him some years ago from Furness Abbey over to Piel, visiting
it as the subject of the picture and the poem. "
Ed. ]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC VERSES,
IN MEMORY OF MY BROTHER, JOHN WORDSWORTH, COMMANDER OF THE E. I.
COMPANY'S SHIP, 'THE EARL OF ABERGAVENNY', IN WHICH HE PERISHED BY
CALAMITOUS SHIPWRECK, FEB. 6TH, 1805.
Composed near the Mountain track, that leads from Grasmere through
Grisdale Hawes, where it descends towards Patterdale.
Composed 1805. --Published 1842
[ "Here did we stop; and here looked round,
While each into himself descends. "
The point is two or three yards below the outlet of Grisedale Tarn, on a
foot-road by which a horse may pass to Patterdale--a ridge of Helvellyn
on the left, and the summit of Fairfield on the right. --I. F. ]
This poem was included among the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
I The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
Deliberate and slow:
Lord of the air, he took his flight; 5
Oh! could he on that woeful night
Have lent his wing, my Brother dear,
For one poor moment's space to Thee,
And all who struggled with the Sea,
When safety was so near. 10
II Thus in the weakness of my heart
I spoke (but let that pang be still)
When rising from the rock at will,
I saw the Bird depart.
And let me calmly bless the Power 15
That meets me in this unknown Flower,
Affecting type of him I mourn!
With calmness suffer and believe,
And grieve, and know that I must grieve,
Not cheerless, though forlorn. 20
III Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.
Hidden was Grasmere Vale from sight, 25
Our home and his, his heart's delight,
His quiet heart's selected home.
But time before him melts away,
And he hath feeling of a day
Of blessedness to come. 30
IV Full soon in sorrow did I weep,
Taught that the mutual hope was dust,
In sorrow, but for higher trust,
How miserably deep!
All vanished in a single word, 35
A breath, a sound, and scarcely heard.
Sea--Ship--drowned--Shipwreck--so it came,
The meek, the brave, the good, was gone;
He who had been our living John
Was nothing but a name. 40
V That was indeed a parting! oh,
Glad am I, glad that it is past;
For there were some on whom it cast
Unutterable woe.
But they as well as I have gains;--45
From many a humble source, to pains
Like these, there comes a mild release;
Even here I feel it, even this Plant
Is in its beauty ministrant
To comfort and to peace. 50
VI He would have loved thy modest grace,
Meek Flower! To Him I would have said,
"It grows upon its native bed
Beside our Parting-place;
There, cleaving to the ground, it lies 55
With multitude of purple eyes,
Spangling a cushion green like moss;
But we will see it, joyful tide!
Some day, to see it in its pride,
The mountain will we cross. " 60
VII--Brother and friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone
Stand--sacred as a Shrine;
And to the few who pass this way, 65
Traveller or Shepherd, let it say,
Long as these mighty rocks endure,--
Oh do not Thou too fondly brood,
Although deserving of all good,
On any earthly hope, however pure! [A] 70
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: See 2nd vol. of the Author's Poems, page 298, and 5th vol. ,
pages 311 and 314, among Elegiac Pieces. --W. W. 1842.
These poems are those respectively beginning:
"When, to the attractions of the busy world . . . "
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! . . . "
"Sweet Flower! belike one day to have . . . "
Ed.
The plant alluded to is the Moss Campion (Silene acaulis, of Linnaeus).
See note at the end of the volume. --W. W. 1842.
See among the "Poems on the Naming of Places," No. VI. --W. W. 1845.
The note is as follows:
"Moss Campion ('Silene acaulis'). This most beautiful plant is scarce
in England, though it is found in great abundance upon the mountains
of Scotland. The first specimen I ever saw of it in its native bed was
singularly fine, the tuft or cushion being at least eight inches
diameter, and the root proportionably thick. I have only met with it
in two places among our mountains, in both of which I have since
sought for it in vain.
Botanists will not, I hope, take it ill, if I caution them against
carrying off inconsiderately rare and beautiful plants. This has often
been done, particularly from Ingleborough and other mountains in
Yorkshire, till the species have totally disappeared, to the great
regret of lovers of nature living near the places where they
grew. "--W. W. 1842.
See also 'The Prelude', book xiv. 1. 419, p. 379. --Ed. ]
This poem underwent no change in successive editions.
At a meeting of "The Wordsworth Society" held at Grasmere, in July 1881,
it was proposed by one of the members, the Rev. H. D. Rawnsley, then
Vicar of Wray, to erect some memorial at the parting-place of the
brothers. The brothers John and William Wordsworth parted at Grisedale
Tarn, on the 29th September 1800. The originator of the idea wrote thus
of it in June 1882:
"A proposition, made by one of its members to the Wordsworth Society
when it met in Grasmere in 1881, to mark the spot in the Grisedale
Pass of Wordsworth's parting from his brother John--and to carry out a
wish the poet seems to have hinted at in the last of his elegiac
verses in memory of that parting--is now being put into effect. It has
been determined, after correspondence with Lord Coleridge, Dr.
Cradock, Professor Knight, and Mr. Hills, to have inscribed--(on the
native rock, if possible)--the first four lines of Stanzas III. and
VII. of these verses:
'Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.
. . .
Brother and friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone
Stand--sacred as a Shrine.
