It rises above the road by the side of
Grasmere
Lake
towards Keswick, and its name is Stone-Arthur.
towards Keswick, and its name is Stone-Arthur.
William Wordsworth
[A]--W.
W.
1800.
[Footnote A: It should be explained that owing to the chronological plan
adopted in this edition (see the preface to vol. i. ), two of the poems
which were placed by Wordsworth in his series of "Poems on the Naming of
Places," but which belong to later years, are printed in subsequent
volumes. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
"IT WAS AN APRIL MORNING: FRESH AND CLEAR"
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[Written at Grasmere. This poem was suggested on the banks of the brook
that runs through Easdale, which is, in some parts of its course, as
wild and beautiful as brook can be. I have composed thousands of verses
by the side of it. --I. F. ]
It was an April morning: fresh and clear
The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,
Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice
Of waters which the winter had supplied
Was softened down into a vernal tone. 5
The spirit of enjoyment and desire,
And hopes and wishes, from all living things
Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.
The budding groves seemed eager to urge on
The steps of June; as if their various hues 10
Were only hindrances that stood between
Them and their object: but, meanwhile, prevailed
Such an entire contentment in the air [1]
That every naked ash, and tardy tree
Yet leafless, showed as if [2] the countenance 15
With which it looked on this delightful day
Were native to the summer. --Up the brook
I roamed in the confusion of my heart,
Alive to all things and forgetting all.
At length I to a sudden turning came 20
In this continuous glen, where down a rock
The Stream, so ardent in its course before,
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all
Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice
Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb, 25
The shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush
Vied with this waterfall, and made a song,
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth
Or like some natural produce of the air,
That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here; 30
But 'twas the foliage of the rocks--the birch,
The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,
With hanging islands of resplendent furze:
And, on a summit, distant a short space,
By any who should look beyond the dell, 35
A single mountain-cottage might be seen.
I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said,
"Our thoughts at least are ours; and this wild nook,
My EMMA, I will dedicate to thee. "
--Soon did the spot become my other home, 40
My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.
And, of the Shepherds who have seen me there,
To whom I sometimes in our idle talk
Have told this fancy, two or three, perhaps,
Years after we are gone and in our graves, 45
When they have cause to speak of this wild place,
May call it by the name of EMMA'S DELL.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
The budding groves appear'd as if in haste
To spur the steps of June; as if their shades
Of _various_ green were hindrances that stood
Between them and their object: yet, meanwhile,
There was such deep contentment in the air 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1845.
. . . seem'd as though . . . 1800. ]
The text of the "Poems on the Naming of Places" underwent comparatively
little alteration in successive editions. Both the changes in the first
poem were made in 1845. From the Fenwick note, it is evident that "the
Rivulet" was Easdale beck. But where was "Emma's Dell"? In the autumn of
1877, Dr. Cradock, the Principal of Brasenose College, Oxford, took me
to a place, of which he afterwards wrote,
"I have a fancy for a spot just beyond Goody Bridge to the left, where
the brook makes a curve, and returns to the road two hundred yards
farther on. But I have not discovered a trace of authority in favour
of the idea farther than that the wooded bend of the brook with the
stepping stones across it, connected with a field-path recently
stopped, was a very favourite haunt of Wordsworth's. At the upper part
of this bend, near to the place where the brook returns to the road,
is a deep pool at the foot of a rush of water. In this pool, a man
named Wilson was drowned many years ago. He lived at a house on the
hill called Score Crag, which, if my conjecture as to Emma's Dell is
right, is the 'single mountain cottage' on a 'summit, distant a short
space. ' Wordsworth, happening to be walking at no great distance,
heard a loud shriek. It was that of Mr. Wilson, the father, who had
just discovered his son's body in the beck. "
In the "Reminiscences" of the poet, by the Hon. Mr. Justice Coleridge,
which were contributed to the 'Memoirs of Wordsworth', written by his
nephew (vol. ii. pp. 300-315), there is a record of a walk they took up
Easdale to this place, entering the field just at the spot which Dr.
Cradock supposes to be "Emma's Dell. "
"He turned aside at a little farm-house, and took us into a swelling
field to look down on the tumbling stream which bounded it, and which
we saw precipitated at a distance, in a broad white sheet, from the
mountain. " (This refers to Easdale Force. ) "Then, as he mused for an
instant, he said,
'I have often thought what a solemn thing it would be could we have
brought to our mind at once all the scenes of distress and misery
which any spot, however beautiful and calm before us, has been
witness to since the beginning. That water break, with the glassy
quiet pool beneath it, that looks so lovely, and presents no images
to the mind but of peace--there, I remember, the only son of his
father, a poor man who lived yonder, was drowned. '"
This walk and conversation took place in October 1836. If any one is
surprised that Wordsworth, supposing him to have been then looking into
the very dell on which he wrote the above poem in 1800, did not name it
to Mr. Coleridge, he must remember that he was not in the habit of
speaking of the places he had memorialised in verse, and that in 1836
his "Sister Emmeline" had for a year been a confirmed invalid at Rydal.
I have repeatedly followed Easdale beck all the way up from its junction
with the Rothay to the Tarn, and found no spot corresponding so closely
to the realistic detail of this poem as the one suggested by Dr.
Cradock. There are two places further up the dale where the "sallies of
glad sound" such as are referred to in the poem, are even more
distinctly audible; but they are not at "a sudden turning," as is the
spot above Goody Bridge. If one leaves the Easdale road at this bridge,
and keeps to the side of the beck for a few hundred yards, till he
reaches the turning,--especially if it be a bright April morning, such
as that described in the poem,--and remembers that this path by the
brook was a favourite resort of Wordsworth and his sister, the
probability of Dr. Cradock's suggestion will be apparent. Lady
Richardson, who knew the place, and appreciated the poem as thoroughly
as any of Wordsworth's friends, told me that she concurred in this
identification of the "dell. "--Ed.
* * * * *
TO JOANNA
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[Written at Grasmere. The effect of her laugh is an extravagance, though
the effect of the reverberation of voices in some parts of the mountains
is very striking. There is, in 'The Excursion', an allusion to the bleat
of a lamb thus re-echoed, and described without any exaggeration, as I
heard it, on the side of Stickle Tarn, from the precipice that stretches
on to Langdale Pikes. --I. F. ]
Amid the smoke of cities did you pass
The time [1] of early youth; and there you learned,
From years of quiet industry, to love
The living Beings by your own fire-side,
With such a strong devotion, that your heart 5
Is slow to meet [2] the sympathies of them
Who look upon the hills with tenderness,
And make dear friendships with the streams and groves.
Yet we, who are transgressors in this kind,
Dwelling retired in our simplicity 10
Among the woods and fields, we love you well,
Joanna! and I guess, since you have been
So distant from us now for two long years,
That you will gladly listen to discourse,
However trivial, if you thence be taught [3] 15
That they, with whom you once were happy, talk
Familiarly of you and of old times.
While I was seated, now some ten days past,
Beneath those lofty firs, that overtop
Their ancient neighbour, the old steeple-tower, 20
The Vicar from his gloomy house hard by [A]
Came forth to greet me; and when he had asked,
"How fares Joanna, that wild-hearted Maid!
And when will she return to us? " he paused;
And, after short exchange of village news, 25
He with grave looks demanded, for what cause,
Reviving obsolete idolatry,
I, like a Runic Priest, in characters
Of formidable size had chiselled out
Some uncouth name upon the native rock, 30
Above the Rotha, by the forest-side.
--Now, by those dear immunities of heart
Engendered between [4] malice and true love,
I was not loth to be so catechised,
And this was my reply:--"As it befel, 35
One summer morning we had walked abroad
At break of day, Joanna and myself.
--'Twas that delightful season when the broom,
Full-flowered, and visible on every steep,
Along the copses runs in veins of gold. 40
Our pathway led us on to Rotha's banks;
And when we came in front of that tall rock
That eastward looks, I there stopped short--and stood [5]
Tracing [6] the lofty barrier with my eye
From base to summit; such delight I found 45
To note in shrub and tree, in stone and flower
That intermixture of delicious hues,
Along so vast a surface, all at once,
In one impression, by connecting force
Of their own beauty, imaged in the heart. 50
--When I had gazed perhaps two minutes' space,
Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld
That ravishment of mine, and laughed aloud.
The Rock, like something starting from a sleep,
Took up the Lady's voice, and laughed again; 55
That ancient Woman seated on Helm-crag
Was ready with her cavern; Hammar-scar,
And the tall Steep of Silver-how, sent forth
A noise of laughter; southern Loughrigg heard,
And Fairfield answered with a mountain tone; 60
Helvellyn far into the clear blue sky
Carried the Lady's voice,--old Skiddaw blew
His speaking-trumpet;--back out of the clouds
Of Glaramara southward came the voice;
And Kirkstone tossed it from his misty head. 65
--Now whether (said I to our cordial Friend,
Who in the hey-day of astonishment
Smiled in my face) this were in simple truth
A work accomplished by the brotherhood
Of ancient mountains, or my ear was touched 70
With dreams and visionary impulses
To me alone imparted, sure I am [7]
That there was a loud uproar in the hills.
And, while we both were listening, to my side
The fair Joanna drew, as if she wished 75
To shelter from some object of her fear.
--And hence, long afterwards, when eighteen moons
Were wasted, as I chanced to walk alone
Beneath this rock, at sunrise, on a calm
And silent morning, I sat down, and there, 80
In memory of affections old and true,
I chiselled out in those rude characters
Joanna's name deep in the living stone:--[8]
And I, and all who dwell by my fireside,
Have called the lovely rock, JOANNA'S ROCK. " 85
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1827.
Your time . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1836.
Is slow towards. . . 1800.
. . . toward. . . . 1827. ]
[Variant 3:
1836.
. . . are taught. . . 1800. ]
[Variant 4:
1836.
. . . betwixt . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 5:
1836.
Which looks towards the East, I there stopp'd short, 1800.
. . . toward . . . 1827. ]
[Variant 6:
1836.
And trac'd . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 7:
1827.
Is not for me to tell; but sure I am 1800]
[Variant 8:
1845.
Joanna's name upon the living stone. 1800. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The Rectory at Grasmere, where Wordsworth lived from 1811
to 1813, and where two of his children died. --Ed. ]
In Cumberland and Westmoreland are several Inscriptions upon the native
rock which from the wasting of Time and the rudeness of the Workmanship
had been mistaken for Runic. They are without doubt Roman.
The Rotha, mentioned in this poem, is the River which flowing through
the Lakes of Grasmere and Rydale falls into Wyndermere. On Helm-Crag,
that impressive single Mountain at the head of the Vale of Grasmere, is
a Rock which from most points of view bears a striking resemblance to an
Old Woman cowering. Close by this rock is one of those Fissures or
Caverns, which in the language of the Country are called Dungeons. The
other Mountains either immediately surround the Vale of Grasmere, or
belong to the same Cluster. --W. W. 1800.
Most of the Mountains here mentioned immediately surround the vale of
Grasmere; of the others, some are at a considerable distance, but they
belong to the same cluster. --W. W. 1802.
The majority of the changes introduced into the text of this poem were
made in the year 1836.
The place where the echo of the bleat of the lamb was heard--referred
to in the Fenwick note--may be easily found. The "precipice" is Pavy
Ark. "The 'lofty firs, that overtop their ancient neighbour, the old
steeple-tower,' stood by the roadside, scarcely twenty yards north-west
from the steeple of Grasmere church. Their site is now included in the
road, which has been widened at that point. They were Scotch firs of
unusual size, and might justly be said to 'overtop their neighbour' the
tower. Mr. Fleming Green, who well remembers the trees, gave me this
information, which is confirmed by other inhabitants.
"When the road was enlarged, not many years ago, the roots of the
trees were found by the workmen. "
(Dr. Cradock to the editor. ) The
'tall rock
That eastward looks'
by the banks of the Rotha, presenting a "lofty barrier" "from base to
summit," is manifestly a portion of Helmcrag. It is impossible to know
whether Wordsworth carved Joanna Hutchinson's name anywhere on Helmcrag,
and it is useless to enquire. If he did so, the discovery of the place
would not help any one to understand or appreciate the poem. It is
obvious that he did not intend to be literally exact in details, as the
poem was written in 1800, and addressed to Joanna Hutchinson,--who is
spoken of as having been absent from Grasmere "for two long years;" and
Wordsworth says that he carved the Runic characters 'in memoriam'
eighteen months after that summer morning when he heard the echo of her
laugh. But the family took up residence at Grasmere only in December
1799, and the "Poems on the Naming of Places" were published before the
close of 1800. The effect of these lines to Joanna, however, is
certainly not impaired--it may even be enhanced--by our inability to
localise them. Only one in the list of places referred to can occasion
any perplexity, viz. , Hammar-scar, since it is a name now disused in the
district. It used to be applied to some rocks on the flank of
Silver-how, to the wood around them, and also to the gorge between
Silver-how and Loughrigg. Hammar, from the old Norse 'hamar', signifies
a steep broken rock.
The imaginative description of the echo of the lady's laugh suggests a
parallel passage from Michael Drayton's 'Polyolbion', which Wordsworth
must doubtless have read. (See his sister's reference to Drayton in her
'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', in 1803: in the note to the
poem, 'At the grave of Burns', p. 382 of this volume. )
'Which _Copland_ scarce had spoke, but quickly every Hill
Upon her verge that stands, the neighbouring valleys fill;
_Helvillon_ from his height, it through the mountains threw,
From whence as soon again, the sound _Dunbalrase_ drew,
From whose stone-trophed head, it on the _Wendrosse_ went,
Which tow'rds the sea again, resounded it to _Dent_,
That _Brodwater_ therewith within her banks astound,
In sailing to the sea, told it to _Egremound_,
Whose buildings, walks, and streets, with echoes loud and long,
Did mightily commend old _Copland_ for her song. '
'Polyolbion', The Thirtieth Song, ll. 155-164.
Any one who compares this passage with Wordsworth's 'Joanna' will see
the difference between the elaborate fancy of a topographical narrator,
and the vivid imagination of a poetical idealist. A somewhat similar
instance of indebtedness--in which the debt is repaid by additional
insight--is seen when we compare a passage from Sir John Davies's
'Orchestra, or a poem on Dancing' (stanza 49), with one from 'The
Ancient Mariner', Part VI. stanzas 2 and 3--although there was more of
the true imaginative light in Davies than in Drayton.
'For lo, the sea that fleets about the land,
And like a girdle clips her solid waist,
Music and measure both doth understand;
For his great crystal eye is always cast
Up to the moon, and on her fixed fast:
And as she danceth in her palid sphere
So danceth he about his centre here. '
DAVIES
'Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the moon is cast--
If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him. '
COLERIDGE.
These extracts show how both Wordsworth and Coleridge assimilated past
literary products, and how they glorified them by reproduction. There
was little, however, in the poetic imagery of previous centuries that
Wordsworth reproduced. His imagination worked in a sphere of its own,
free from the trammels of precedent; and he was more original than any
other nineteenth century poet in his use of symbol and metaphor. The
poem 'To Joanna' was probably composed on August 22, 1800, as the
following occurs in Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal under that date:
"William was composing all the morning . . . W. read us the poem of
Joanna, beside the Rothay, by the roadside. "
Charles Lamb wrote to Wordsworth in January 1801, of
"these continuous echoes in the story of 'Joanna's laugh,' when the
mountains and all the scenery seem absolutely alive. "
Ed.
* * * * *
"THERE IS AN EMINENCE,--OF THESE OUR HILLS"
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[It is not accurate that the Eminence here alluded to could be seen from
our orchard-seat.
It rises above the road by the side of Grasmere Lake
towards Keswick, and its name is Stone-Arthur. --I. F. ]
There is an Eminence,--of these our hills
The last that parleys with the setting sun;
We can behold it from our orchard-seat;
And, when at evening we pursue our walk
Along the public way, this Peak, [1] so high 5
Above us, and so distant in its height,
Is visible; and often seems to send
Its own deep quiet to restore our hearts.
The meteors make of it a favourite haunt:
The star of Jove, so beautiful and large 10
In the mid heavens, is never half so fair
As when he shines above it. 'Tis in truth
The loneliest place we have among the clouds.
And She who dwells with me, whom I have loved
With such communion, that no place on earth 15
Can ever be a solitude to me,
Hath to this lonely Summit given my Name. [2]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1840.
. . . this Cliff, . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1815.
Hath said, this lonesome Peak shall bear my Name. 1800. ]
Stone-Arthur is the name of the hill, on the east side of the Vale of
Grasmere, opposite Helm Crag, and between Green Head Ghyll and Tongue
Ghyll. --Ed.
* * * * *
"A NARROW GIRDLE OF ROUGH STONES AND CRAGS"
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[The character of the eastern shore of Grasmere Lake is quite changed
since these verses were written, by the public road being carried along
its side. The friends spoken of were Coleridge and my Sister, and the
facts occurred strictly as recorded. --I. F. ]
A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,
A rude and natural causeway, interposed
Between the water and a winding slope
Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore
Of Grasmere safe in its own privacy: [A] 5
And there myself and two beloved Friends,
One calm September morning, ere the mist
Had altogether yielded to the sun,
Sauntered on this retired and difficult way.
--Ill suits the road with one in haste; but we 10
Played with our time; and, as we strolled along,
It was our occupation to observe
Such objects as the waves had tossed ashore--
Feather, or leaf, or weed, or withered bough,
Each on the other heaped, along the line 15
Of the dry wreck. And, in our vacant mood,
Not seldom did we stop to watch some tuft
Of dandelion seed or thistle's beard,
That skimmed the surface of the dead calm lake,
Suddenly halting now--a lifeless stand! 20
And starting off again with freak as sudden; [1]
In all its sportive wanderings, all the while,
Making report of an invisible breeze
That was its wings, its chariot, and its horse,
Its playmate, rather say, its moving soul. [2] 25
--And often, trifling with a privilege
Alike indulged to all, we paused, one now,
And now the other, to point out, perchance
To pluck, some flower or water-weed, too fair
Either to be divided from the place 30
On which it grew, or to be left alone
To its own beauty. Many such there are,
Fair ferns and flowers, and chiefly that tall fern, [3]
So stately, of the queen Osmunda named;
Plant lovelier, in its own retired abode 35
On Grasmere's beach, than Naiad by the side
Of Grecian brook, or Lady of the Mere,
Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
--So fared we that bright [4] morning: from the fields,
Meanwhile, a noise was heard, the busy mirth 40
Of reapers, men and women, boys and girls.
Delighted much to listen [5] to those sounds,
And feeding thus our fancies, we advanced [6]
Along the indented shore; when suddenly,
Through a thin veil of glittering haze was seen [7] 45
Before us, on a point of jutting land,
The tall and upright figure of a Man
Attired in peasant's garb, who stood alone,
Angling beside the margin of the lake. [8]
"Improvident and reckless," we exclaimed, 50
"The Man must be, who thus can lose a day [9]
Of the mid harvest, when the labourer's hire
Is ample, and some little might be stored
Wherewith to cheer him in the winter time. "
Thus talking of that Peasant, we approached 55
Close to the spot where with his rod and line
He stood alone; whereat he turned his head
To greet us--and we saw a Man worn down
By sickness, gaunt and lean, with sunken cheeks
And wasted limbs, his legs so long and lean 60
That for my single self I looked at them,
Forgetful of the body they sustained. --
Too weak to labour in the harvest field,
The Man was using his best skill to gain
A pittance from the dead unfeeling lake 65
That knew not of his wants. I will not say
What thoughts immediately were ours, nor how
The happy idleness of that sweet morn,
With all its lovely images, was changed
To serious musing and to self-reproach. 70
Nor did we fail to see within ourselves
What need there is to be reserved in speech,
And temper all our thoughts with charity.
--Therefore, unwilling to forget that day,
My Friend, Myself, and She who then received 75
The same admonishment, have called the place
By a memorial name, uncouth indeed
As e'er by mariner was given to bay
Or foreland, on a new-discovered coast;
And POINT RASH-JUDGMENT is the name it bears. 80
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1815. (Compressing five lines into three. )
. . . thistle's beard,
Which, seeming lifeless half, and half impell'd
By some internal feeling, skimm'd along
Close to the surface of the lake that lay
Asleep in a dead calm, ran closely on
Along the dead calm lake, now here, now there, 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1820.
Its very playmate, and its moving soul. 1800. ]
[Variant 3:
1802.
. . . tall plant . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 4:
1827.
. . . sweet . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 5:
1800.
. . . with listening . . . C. ]
[Variant 6:
1820.
And in the fashion which I have describ'd,
Feeding unthinking fancies, we advanc'd 1800. ]
[Variant 7:
1827.
. . . we saw 1800. ]
[Variant 8:
1800.
. . . a lake. 1802.
The text of 1815 returns to that of 1800. ]
[Variant 9:
1827.
. . . the margin of the lake.
That way we turn'd our steps; nor was it long,
Ere making ready comments on the sight
Which then we saw, with one and the same voice
We all cried out, that he must be indeed
An idle man, who thus could lose a day 1800.
Did all cry out, that he must be indeed
An Idler, he who thus . . . 1815. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: A new road has destroyed this retirement. (MS. footnote in
Lord Coleridge's copy of the edition of 1836. )--Ed. ]
The text of this poem reached its final state in the edition of 1827.
The same is true of the poem which follows, 'To M. H. ', with the
exception of a single change.
In Wordsworth's early days at Grasmere, a wild woodland path of quiet
beauty led from Dove Cottage along the margin of the lake to the "Point"
referred to in this poem, leaving the eastern shore truly "safe in its
own privacy"--a "retired and difficult way"; the high-way road for
carriages being at that time over White Moss Common. The late Dr.
Arnold, of Rugby and Foxhowe, used to name the three roads from Rydal to
Grasmere thus: the highest, "Old Corruption"; the intermediate, "Bit by
bit Reform"; the lowest and most level, "Radical Reform. " Wordsworth was
never quite reconciled to the radical reform effected on a road that
used to be so delightfully wild and picturesque. The spot which the
three friends rather infelicitously named "Point Rash-Judgment" is
easily identified; although, as Wordsworth remarks, the character of the
shore is changed by the public road being carried along its side. The
friends were quite aware that the "memorial name" they gave it was
"uncouth. " In spite of its awkwardness, however, it will probably
survive; if not for Browning's reason
'The better the uncouther;
Do roses stick like burrs? '
at least because of the incident which gave rise to the poem.
The date of composition is fixed by Dorothy Wordsworth's
Journal,
"10th Oct. 1800, Wm. sat up after me, writing 'Point
Rash-Judgment. '"
Ed.
* * * * *
TO M. H.
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[To Mary Hutchinson, two years before our marriage. The pool alluded to
is in Rydal Upper Park. --I. F. ]
Our walk was far among the ancient trees:
There was no road, nor any woodman's path;
But a [1] thick umbrage--checking the wild growth
Of weed and sapling, along soft green turf [2]
Beneath the branches--of itself had made 5
A track, that [3] brought us to a slip of lawn,
And a small bed of water in the woods.
All round this pool both flocks and herds might drink
On its firm margin, even as from a well,
Or some stone-basin which the herdsman's hand 10
Had shaped for their refreshment; nor did sun,
Or wind from any quarter, ever come,
But as a blessing to this calm recess,
This glade of water and this one green field.
The spot was made by Nature for herself; 15
The travellers know it not, and 'twill remain
Unknown to them; but it is beautiful;
And if a man should plant his cottage near,
Should sleep beneath the shelter of its trees,
And blend its waters with his daily meal, 20
He would so love it, that in his death-hour
Its image would survive among his thoughts:
And therefore, my sweet MARY, this still Nook,
With all its beeches, we have named from You! [4]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1836.
But the . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1827.
. . . on the soft green turf 1800.
. . . smooth dry ground MS. ]
[Variant 3:
1827.
. . . which . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 4:
1800.
. . . for You. 1802.
The text of 1815 returns to that of 1800. ]
To find the pool referred to in the Fenwick note, I have carefully
examined the course of Rydal beck, all the way up to the foot of the
Fell. There is a pool beyond the enclosures of the Hall property, about
five hundred feet above Rydal Mount, which partly corresponds to the
description in the poem, but there is no wood around it now; and the
trees which skirt its margin are birch, ash, oak, and hazel, but there
are no beeches. It is a short way below some fine specimens of ice-worn
rocks, which are to the right of the stream as you ascend it, and above
these rocks is a well-marked moraine. It is a deep crystal pool, and has
a "firm margin" of (artificially placed) stones. This may be the spot
described in the poem; or another, within the grounds of the Hall, may
be the place referred to. It is a sequestered nook, beside the third
waterfall as you ascend the beck--this third cascade being itself a
treble fall. Seen two or three days after rain, when the stream is full
enough to break over the whole face of the rock in showers of snowy
brightness, yet low enough to shew the rock behind its transparent veil,
it is specially beautiful. Trees change so much in eighty years that the
absence of "beeches" now would not make this site impossible. In a MS.
copy of the poem (of date Dec. 28, 1800), the last line is
'With all its poplars, we have named from you. '
Of the circular pool beneath this fall it may be said, as Wordsworth
describes it, that
'. . . both flocks and herds might drink
On its firm margin, even as from a well;'
and a "small slip of lawn" might easily have existed there in his time.
We cannot, however, be confident as to the locality, and I add the
opinion of several, whose judgment may be deferred to. Dr. Cradock
writes:
"As to Mary Hutchinson's pool, I think that it was not on the beck
anywhere, but some detached little pool, far up the hill, to the
eastwards of the Hall, in 'the woods. ' The description does not well
suit any part of Rydal beck; and no spot thereon could long 'remain
unknown,' as the brook was until lately much haunted by anglers. "
My difficulty as to a site "far up the hill" is, that it must have been
a pool of some size, if "both flocks and herds might drink" all round
it; and there is no stream, scarce even a rill that joins Rydal beck on
the right, all the way up from its junction with the Rothay. The late
Mr. Hull of Rydal Cottage, wrote:
"Although closely acquainted with every nook about Rydal Park, I have
never been able to discover any spot corresponding to that described
in Wordsworth's lines to M. H. It is possible, however, that the
'small bed of water' may have been a temporary rain pool, such as
sometimes lodges in the hollows on the mountain-slope after heavy
rain. "
Mr. F. M. Jones, the agent of the Rydal property, writes:
"I do not know of any pool of water in the Upper Rydal Park. There are
some pools up the river, 'Mirror Pool' among them; but I hardly think
there can ever have been 'beech-trees' growing near them. "
There are many difficulties, and the place cannot now be identified.
Wordsworth's own wish will doubtless be realised,
'The travellers know it not, and 'twill remain
Unknown to them. '
Ed.
* * * * *
THE WATERFALL AND THE EGLANTINE
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[Suggested nearer to Grasmere, in the same mountain track as that
referred to in the following note. The Eglantine remained many years
afterwards, but is now gone. --I. F. ]
Included among the "Poems of the Fancy. "--Ed.
I "Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf,"
Exclaimed an angry Voice, [1]
"Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self
Between me and my choice! "
A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows 5
Thus threatened a poor Briar-rose, [2]
That, all bespattered with his foam,
And dancing high and dancing low,
Was living, as a child might know,
In an unhappy home. 10
II "Dost thou presume my course to block?
Off, off! or, puny Thing!
I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock
To which thy fibres cling. "
The Flood was tyrannous and strong; [A] 15
The patient Briar suffered long,
Nor did he utter groan or sigh,
Hoping the danger would be past;
But, seeing no relief, at last,
He ventured to reply.
[Footnote A: It should be explained that owing to the chronological plan
adopted in this edition (see the preface to vol. i. ), two of the poems
which were placed by Wordsworth in his series of "Poems on the Naming of
Places," but which belong to later years, are printed in subsequent
volumes. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
"IT WAS AN APRIL MORNING: FRESH AND CLEAR"
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[Written at Grasmere. This poem was suggested on the banks of the brook
that runs through Easdale, which is, in some parts of its course, as
wild and beautiful as brook can be. I have composed thousands of verses
by the side of it. --I. F. ]
It was an April morning: fresh and clear
The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,
Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice
Of waters which the winter had supplied
Was softened down into a vernal tone. 5
The spirit of enjoyment and desire,
And hopes and wishes, from all living things
Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.
The budding groves seemed eager to urge on
The steps of June; as if their various hues 10
Were only hindrances that stood between
Them and their object: but, meanwhile, prevailed
Such an entire contentment in the air [1]
That every naked ash, and tardy tree
Yet leafless, showed as if [2] the countenance 15
With which it looked on this delightful day
Were native to the summer. --Up the brook
I roamed in the confusion of my heart,
Alive to all things and forgetting all.
At length I to a sudden turning came 20
In this continuous glen, where down a rock
The Stream, so ardent in its course before,
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all
Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice
Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb, 25
The shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush
Vied with this waterfall, and made a song,
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth
Or like some natural produce of the air,
That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here; 30
But 'twas the foliage of the rocks--the birch,
The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,
With hanging islands of resplendent furze:
And, on a summit, distant a short space,
By any who should look beyond the dell, 35
A single mountain-cottage might be seen.
I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said,
"Our thoughts at least are ours; and this wild nook,
My EMMA, I will dedicate to thee. "
--Soon did the spot become my other home, 40
My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.
And, of the Shepherds who have seen me there,
To whom I sometimes in our idle talk
Have told this fancy, two or three, perhaps,
Years after we are gone and in our graves, 45
When they have cause to speak of this wild place,
May call it by the name of EMMA'S DELL.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
The budding groves appear'd as if in haste
To spur the steps of June; as if their shades
Of _various_ green were hindrances that stood
Between them and their object: yet, meanwhile,
There was such deep contentment in the air 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1845.
. . . seem'd as though . . . 1800. ]
The text of the "Poems on the Naming of Places" underwent comparatively
little alteration in successive editions. Both the changes in the first
poem were made in 1845. From the Fenwick note, it is evident that "the
Rivulet" was Easdale beck. But where was "Emma's Dell"? In the autumn of
1877, Dr. Cradock, the Principal of Brasenose College, Oxford, took me
to a place, of which he afterwards wrote,
"I have a fancy for a spot just beyond Goody Bridge to the left, where
the brook makes a curve, and returns to the road two hundred yards
farther on. But I have not discovered a trace of authority in favour
of the idea farther than that the wooded bend of the brook with the
stepping stones across it, connected with a field-path recently
stopped, was a very favourite haunt of Wordsworth's. At the upper part
of this bend, near to the place where the brook returns to the road,
is a deep pool at the foot of a rush of water. In this pool, a man
named Wilson was drowned many years ago. He lived at a house on the
hill called Score Crag, which, if my conjecture as to Emma's Dell is
right, is the 'single mountain cottage' on a 'summit, distant a short
space. ' Wordsworth, happening to be walking at no great distance,
heard a loud shriek. It was that of Mr. Wilson, the father, who had
just discovered his son's body in the beck. "
In the "Reminiscences" of the poet, by the Hon. Mr. Justice Coleridge,
which were contributed to the 'Memoirs of Wordsworth', written by his
nephew (vol. ii. pp. 300-315), there is a record of a walk they took up
Easdale to this place, entering the field just at the spot which Dr.
Cradock supposes to be "Emma's Dell. "
"He turned aside at a little farm-house, and took us into a swelling
field to look down on the tumbling stream which bounded it, and which
we saw precipitated at a distance, in a broad white sheet, from the
mountain. " (This refers to Easdale Force. ) "Then, as he mused for an
instant, he said,
'I have often thought what a solemn thing it would be could we have
brought to our mind at once all the scenes of distress and misery
which any spot, however beautiful and calm before us, has been
witness to since the beginning. That water break, with the glassy
quiet pool beneath it, that looks so lovely, and presents no images
to the mind but of peace--there, I remember, the only son of his
father, a poor man who lived yonder, was drowned. '"
This walk and conversation took place in October 1836. If any one is
surprised that Wordsworth, supposing him to have been then looking into
the very dell on which he wrote the above poem in 1800, did not name it
to Mr. Coleridge, he must remember that he was not in the habit of
speaking of the places he had memorialised in verse, and that in 1836
his "Sister Emmeline" had for a year been a confirmed invalid at Rydal.
I have repeatedly followed Easdale beck all the way up from its junction
with the Rothay to the Tarn, and found no spot corresponding so closely
to the realistic detail of this poem as the one suggested by Dr.
Cradock. There are two places further up the dale where the "sallies of
glad sound" such as are referred to in the poem, are even more
distinctly audible; but they are not at "a sudden turning," as is the
spot above Goody Bridge. If one leaves the Easdale road at this bridge,
and keeps to the side of the beck for a few hundred yards, till he
reaches the turning,--especially if it be a bright April morning, such
as that described in the poem,--and remembers that this path by the
brook was a favourite resort of Wordsworth and his sister, the
probability of Dr. Cradock's suggestion will be apparent. Lady
Richardson, who knew the place, and appreciated the poem as thoroughly
as any of Wordsworth's friends, told me that she concurred in this
identification of the "dell. "--Ed.
* * * * *
TO JOANNA
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[Written at Grasmere. The effect of her laugh is an extravagance, though
the effect of the reverberation of voices in some parts of the mountains
is very striking. There is, in 'The Excursion', an allusion to the bleat
of a lamb thus re-echoed, and described without any exaggeration, as I
heard it, on the side of Stickle Tarn, from the precipice that stretches
on to Langdale Pikes. --I. F. ]
Amid the smoke of cities did you pass
The time [1] of early youth; and there you learned,
From years of quiet industry, to love
The living Beings by your own fire-side,
With such a strong devotion, that your heart 5
Is slow to meet [2] the sympathies of them
Who look upon the hills with tenderness,
And make dear friendships with the streams and groves.
Yet we, who are transgressors in this kind,
Dwelling retired in our simplicity 10
Among the woods and fields, we love you well,
Joanna! and I guess, since you have been
So distant from us now for two long years,
That you will gladly listen to discourse,
However trivial, if you thence be taught [3] 15
That they, with whom you once were happy, talk
Familiarly of you and of old times.
While I was seated, now some ten days past,
Beneath those lofty firs, that overtop
Their ancient neighbour, the old steeple-tower, 20
The Vicar from his gloomy house hard by [A]
Came forth to greet me; and when he had asked,
"How fares Joanna, that wild-hearted Maid!
And when will she return to us? " he paused;
And, after short exchange of village news, 25
He with grave looks demanded, for what cause,
Reviving obsolete idolatry,
I, like a Runic Priest, in characters
Of formidable size had chiselled out
Some uncouth name upon the native rock, 30
Above the Rotha, by the forest-side.
--Now, by those dear immunities of heart
Engendered between [4] malice and true love,
I was not loth to be so catechised,
And this was my reply:--"As it befel, 35
One summer morning we had walked abroad
At break of day, Joanna and myself.
--'Twas that delightful season when the broom,
Full-flowered, and visible on every steep,
Along the copses runs in veins of gold. 40
Our pathway led us on to Rotha's banks;
And when we came in front of that tall rock
That eastward looks, I there stopped short--and stood [5]
Tracing [6] the lofty barrier with my eye
From base to summit; such delight I found 45
To note in shrub and tree, in stone and flower
That intermixture of delicious hues,
Along so vast a surface, all at once,
In one impression, by connecting force
Of their own beauty, imaged in the heart. 50
--When I had gazed perhaps two minutes' space,
Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld
That ravishment of mine, and laughed aloud.
The Rock, like something starting from a sleep,
Took up the Lady's voice, and laughed again; 55
That ancient Woman seated on Helm-crag
Was ready with her cavern; Hammar-scar,
And the tall Steep of Silver-how, sent forth
A noise of laughter; southern Loughrigg heard,
And Fairfield answered with a mountain tone; 60
Helvellyn far into the clear blue sky
Carried the Lady's voice,--old Skiddaw blew
His speaking-trumpet;--back out of the clouds
Of Glaramara southward came the voice;
And Kirkstone tossed it from his misty head. 65
--Now whether (said I to our cordial Friend,
Who in the hey-day of astonishment
Smiled in my face) this were in simple truth
A work accomplished by the brotherhood
Of ancient mountains, or my ear was touched 70
With dreams and visionary impulses
To me alone imparted, sure I am [7]
That there was a loud uproar in the hills.
And, while we both were listening, to my side
The fair Joanna drew, as if she wished 75
To shelter from some object of her fear.
--And hence, long afterwards, when eighteen moons
Were wasted, as I chanced to walk alone
Beneath this rock, at sunrise, on a calm
And silent morning, I sat down, and there, 80
In memory of affections old and true,
I chiselled out in those rude characters
Joanna's name deep in the living stone:--[8]
And I, and all who dwell by my fireside,
Have called the lovely rock, JOANNA'S ROCK. " 85
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1827.
Your time . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1836.
Is slow towards. . . 1800.
. . . toward. . . . 1827. ]
[Variant 3:
1836.
. . . are taught. . . 1800. ]
[Variant 4:
1836.
. . . betwixt . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 5:
1836.
Which looks towards the East, I there stopp'd short, 1800.
. . . toward . . . 1827. ]
[Variant 6:
1836.
And trac'd . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 7:
1827.
Is not for me to tell; but sure I am 1800]
[Variant 8:
1845.
Joanna's name upon the living stone. 1800. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The Rectory at Grasmere, where Wordsworth lived from 1811
to 1813, and where two of his children died. --Ed. ]
In Cumberland and Westmoreland are several Inscriptions upon the native
rock which from the wasting of Time and the rudeness of the Workmanship
had been mistaken for Runic. They are without doubt Roman.
The Rotha, mentioned in this poem, is the River which flowing through
the Lakes of Grasmere and Rydale falls into Wyndermere. On Helm-Crag,
that impressive single Mountain at the head of the Vale of Grasmere, is
a Rock which from most points of view bears a striking resemblance to an
Old Woman cowering. Close by this rock is one of those Fissures or
Caverns, which in the language of the Country are called Dungeons. The
other Mountains either immediately surround the Vale of Grasmere, or
belong to the same Cluster. --W. W. 1800.
Most of the Mountains here mentioned immediately surround the vale of
Grasmere; of the others, some are at a considerable distance, but they
belong to the same cluster. --W. W. 1802.
The majority of the changes introduced into the text of this poem were
made in the year 1836.
The place where the echo of the bleat of the lamb was heard--referred
to in the Fenwick note--may be easily found. The "precipice" is Pavy
Ark. "The 'lofty firs, that overtop their ancient neighbour, the old
steeple-tower,' stood by the roadside, scarcely twenty yards north-west
from the steeple of Grasmere church. Their site is now included in the
road, which has been widened at that point. They were Scotch firs of
unusual size, and might justly be said to 'overtop their neighbour' the
tower. Mr. Fleming Green, who well remembers the trees, gave me this
information, which is confirmed by other inhabitants.
"When the road was enlarged, not many years ago, the roots of the
trees were found by the workmen. "
(Dr. Cradock to the editor. ) The
'tall rock
That eastward looks'
by the banks of the Rotha, presenting a "lofty barrier" "from base to
summit," is manifestly a portion of Helmcrag. It is impossible to know
whether Wordsworth carved Joanna Hutchinson's name anywhere on Helmcrag,
and it is useless to enquire. If he did so, the discovery of the place
would not help any one to understand or appreciate the poem. It is
obvious that he did not intend to be literally exact in details, as the
poem was written in 1800, and addressed to Joanna Hutchinson,--who is
spoken of as having been absent from Grasmere "for two long years;" and
Wordsworth says that he carved the Runic characters 'in memoriam'
eighteen months after that summer morning when he heard the echo of her
laugh. But the family took up residence at Grasmere only in December
1799, and the "Poems on the Naming of Places" were published before the
close of 1800. The effect of these lines to Joanna, however, is
certainly not impaired--it may even be enhanced--by our inability to
localise them. Only one in the list of places referred to can occasion
any perplexity, viz. , Hammar-scar, since it is a name now disused in the
district. It used to be applied to some rocks on the flank of
Silver-how, to the wood around them, and also to the gorge between
Silver-how and Loughrigg. Hammar, from the old Norse 'hamar', signifies
a steep broken rock.
The imaginative description of the echo of the lady's laugh suggests a
parallel passage from Michael Drayton's 'Polyolbion', which Wordsworth
must doubtless have read. (See his sister's reference to Drayton in her
'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', in 1803: in the note to the
poem, 'At the grave of Burns', p. 382 of this volume. )
'Which _Copland_ scarce had spoke, but quickly every Hill
Upon her verge that stands, the neighbouring valleys fill;
_Helvillon_ from his height, it through the mountains threw,
From whence as soon again, the sound _Dunbalrase_ drew,
From whose stone-trophed head, it on the _Wendrosse_ went,
Which tow'rds the sea again, resounded it to _Dent_,
That _Brodwater_ therewith within her banks astound,
In sailing to the sea, told it to _Egremound_,
Whose buildings, walks, and streets, with echoes loud and long,
Did mightily commend old _Copland_ for her song. '
'Polyolbion', The Thirtieth Song, ll. 155-164.
Any one who compares this passage with Wordsworth's 'Joanna' will see
the difference between the elaborate fancy of a topographical narrator,
and the vivid imagination of a poetical idealist. A somewhat similar
instance of indebtedness--in which the debt is repaid by additional
insight--is seen when we compare a passage from Sir John Davies's
'Orchestra, or a poem on Dancing' (stanza 49), with one from 'The
Ancient Mariner', Part VI. stanzas 2 and 3--although there was more of
the true imaginative light in Davies than in Drayton.
'For lo, the sea that fleets about the land,
And like a girdle clips her solid waist,
Music and measure both doth understand;
For his great crystal eye is always cast
Up to the moon, and on her fixed fast:
And as she danceth in her palid sphere
So danceth he about his centre here. '
DAVIES
'Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the moon is cast--
If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him. '
COLERIDGE.
These extracts show how both Wordsworth and Coleridge assimilated past
literary products, and how they glorified them by reproduction. There
was little, however, in the poetic imagery of previous centuries that
Wordsworth reproduced. His imagination worked in a sphere of its own,
free from the trammels of precedent; and he was more original than any
other nineteenth century poet in his use of symbol and metaphor. The
poem 'To Joanna' was probably composed on August 22, 1800, as the
following occurs in Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal under that date:
"William was composing all the morning . . . W. read us the poem of
Joanna, beside the Rothay, by the roadside. "
Charles Lamb wrote to Wordsworth in January 1801, of
"these continuous echoes in the story of 'Joanna's laugh,' when the
mountains and all the scenery seem absolutely alive. "
Ed.
* * * * *
"THERE IS AN EMINENCE,--OF THESE OUR HILLS"
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[It is not accurate that the Eminence here alluded to could be seen from
our orchard-seat.
It rises above the road by the side of Grasmere Lake
towards Keswick, and its name is Stone-Arthur. --I. F. ]
There is an Eminence,--of these our hills
The last that parleys with the setting sun;
We can behold it from our orchard-seat;
And, when at evening we pursue our walk
Along the public way, this Peak, [1] so high 5
Above us, and so distant in its height,
Is visible; and often seems to send
Its own deep quiet to restore our hearts.
The meteors make of it a favourite haunt:
The star of Jove, so beautiful and large 10
In the mid heavens, is never half so fair
As when he shines above it. 'Tis in truth
The loneliest place we have among the clouds.
And She who dwells with me, whom I have loved
With such communion, that no place on earth 15
Can ever be a solitude to me,
Hath to this lonely Summit given my Name. [2]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1840.
. . . this Cliff, . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1815.
Hath said, this lonesome Peak shall bear my Name. 1800. ]
Stone-Arthur is the name of the hill, on the east side of the Vale of
Grasmere, opposite Helm Crag, and between Green Head Ghyll and Tongue
Ghyll. --Ed.
* * * * *
"A NARROW GIRDLE OF ROUGH STONES AND CRAGS"
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[The character of the eastern shore of Grasmere Lake is quite changed
since these verses were written, by the public road being carried along
its side. The friends spoken of were Coleridge and my Sister, and the
facts occurred strictly as recorded. --I. F. ]
A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,
A rude and natural causeway, interposed
Between the water and a winding slope
Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore
Of Grasmere safe in its own privacy: [A] 5
And there myself and two beloved Friends,
One calm September morning, ere the mist
Had altogether yielded to the sun,
Sauntered on this retired and difficult way.
--Ill suits the road with one in haste; but we 10
Played with our time; and, as we strolled along,
It was our occupation to observe
Such objects as the waves had tossed ashore--
Feather, or leaf, or weed, or withered bough,
Each on the other heaped, along the line 15
Of the dry wreck. And, in our vacant mood,
Not seldom did we stop to watch some tuft
Of dandelion seed or thistle's beard,
That skimmed the surface of the dead calm lake,
Suddenly halting now--a lifeless stand! 20
And starting off again with freak as sudden; [1]
In all its sportive wanderings, all the while,
Making report of an invisible breeze
That was its wings, its chariot, and its horse,
Its playmate, rather say, its moving soul. [2] 25
--And often, trifling with a privilege
Alike indulged to all, we paused, one now,
And now the other, to point out, perchance
To pluck, some flower or water-weed, too fair
Either to be divided from the place 30
On which it grew, or to be left alone
To its own beauty. Many such there are,
Fair ferns and flowers, and chiefly that tall fern, [3]
So stately, of the queen Osmunda named;
Plant lovelier, in its own retired abode 35
On Grasmere's beach, than Naiad by the side
Of Grecian brook, or Lady of the Mere,
Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
--So fared we that bright [4] morning: from the fields,
Meanwhile, a noise was heard, the busy mirth 40
Of reapers, men and women, boys and girls.
Delighted much to listen [5] to those sounds,
And feeding thus our fancies, we advanced [6]
Along the indented shore; when suddenly,
Through a thin veil of glittering haze was seen [7] 45
Before us, on a point of jutting land,
The tall and upright figure of a Man
Attired in peasant's garb, who stood alone,
Angling beside the margin of the lake. [8]
"Improvident and reckless," we exclaimed, 50
"The Man must be, who thus can lose a day [9]
Of the mid harvest, when the labourer's hire
Is ample, and some little might be stored
Wherewith to cheer him in the winter time. "
Thus talking of that Peasant, we approached 55
Close to the spot where with his rod and line
He stood alone; whereat he turned his head
To greet us--and we saw a Man worn down
By sickness, gaunt and lean, with sunken cheeks
And wasted limbs, his legs so long and lean 60
That for my single self I looked at them,
Forgetful of the body they sustained. --
Too weak to labour in the harvest field,
The Man was using his best skill to gain
A pittance from the dead unfeeling lake 65
That knew not of his wants. I will not say
What thoughts immediately were ours, nor how
The happy idleness of that sweet morn,
With all its lovely images, was changed
To serious musing and to self-reproach. 70
Nor did we fail to see within ourselves
What need there is to be reserved in speech,
And temper all our thoughts with charity.
--Therefore, unwilling to forget that day,
My Friend, Myself, and She who then received 75
The same admonishment, have called the place
By a memorial name, uncouth indeed
As e'er by mariner was given to bay
Or foreland, on a new-discovered coast;
And POINT RASH-JUDGMENT is the name it bears. 80
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1815. (Compressing five lines into three. )
. . . thistle's beard,
Which, seeming lifeless half, and half impell'd
By some internal feeling, skimm'd along
Close to the surface of the lake that lay
Asleep in a dead calm, ran closely on
Along the dead calm lake, now here, now there, 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1820.
Its very playmate, and its moving soul. 1800. ]
[Variant 3:
1802.
. . . tall plant . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 4:
1827.
. . . sweet . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 5:
1800.
. . . with listening . . . C. ]
[Variant 6:
1820.
And in the fashion which I have describ'd,
Feeding unthinking fancies, we advanc'd 1800. ]
[Variant 7:
1827.
. . . we saw 1800. ]
[Variant 8:
1800.
. . . a lake. 1802.
The text of 1815 returns to that of 1800. ]
[Variant 9:
1827.
. . . the margin of the lake.
That way we turn'd our steps; nor was it long,
Ere making ready comments on the sight
Which then we saw, with one and the same voice
We all cried out, that he must be indeed
An idle man, who thus could lose a day 1800.
Did all cry out, that he must be indeed
An Idler, he who thus . . . 1815. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: A new road has destroyed this retirement. (MS. footnote in
Lord Coleridge's copy of the edition of 1836. )--Ed. ]
The text of this poem reached its final state in the edition of 1827.
The same is true of the poem which follows, 'To M. H. ', with the
exception of a single change.
In Wordsworth's early days at Grasmere, a wild woodland path of quiet
beauty led from Dove Cottage along the margin of the lake to the "Point"
referred to in this poem, leaving the eastern shore truly "safe in its
own privacy"--a "retired and difficult way"; the high-way road for
carriages being at that time over White Moss Common. The late Dr.
Arnold, of Rugby and Foxhowe, used to name the three roads from Rydal to
Grasmere thus: the highest, "Old Corruption"; the intermediate, "Bit by
bit Reform"; the lowest and most level, "Radical Reform. " Wordsworth was
never quite reconciled to the radical reform effected on a road that
used to be so delightfully wild and picturesque. The spot which the
three friends rather infelicitously named "Point Rash-Judgment" is
easily identified; although, as Wordsworth remarks, the character of the
shore is changed by the public road being carried along its side. The
friends were quite aware that the "memorial name" they gave it was
"uncouth. " In spite of its awkwardness, however, it will probably
survive; if not for Browning's reason
'The better the uncouther;
Do roses stick like burrs? '
at least because of the incident which gave rise to the poem.
The date of composition is fixed by Dorothy Wordsworth's
Journal,
"10th Oct. 1800, Wm. sat up after me, writing 'Point
Rash-Judgment. '"
Ed.
* * * * *
TO M. H.
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[To Mary Hutchinson, two years before our marriage. The pool alluded to
is in Rydal Upper Park. --I. F. ]
Our walk was far among the ancient trees:
There was no road, nor any woodman's path;
But a [1] thick umbrage--checking the wild growth
Of weed and sapling, along soft green turf [2]
Beneath the branches--of itself had made 5
A track, that [3] brought us to a slip of lawn,
And a small bed of water in the woods.
All round this pool both flocks and herds might drink
On its firm margin, even as from a well,
Or some stone-basin which the herdsman's hand 10
Had shaped for their refreshment; nor did sun,
Or wind from any quarter, ever come,
But as a blessing to this calm recess,
This glade of water and this one green field.
The spot was made by Nature for herself; 15
The travellers know it not, and 'twill remain
Unknown to them; but it is beautiful;
And if a man should plant his cottage near,
Should sleep beneath the shelter of its trees,
And blend its waters with his daily meal, 20
He would so love it, that in his death-hour
Its image would survive among his thoughts:
And therefore, my sweet MARY, this still Nook,
With all its beeches, we have named from You! [4]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1836.
But the . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 2:
1827.
. . . on the soft green turf 1800.
. . . smooth dry ground MS. ]
[Variant 3:
1827.
. . . which . . . 1800. ]
[Variant 4:
1800.
. . . for You. 1802.
The text of 1815 returns to that of 1800. ]
To find the pool referred to in the Fenwick note, I have carefully
examined the course of Rydal beck, all the way up to the foot of the
Fell. There is a pool beyond the enclosures of the Hall property, about
five hundred feet above Rydal Mount, which partly corresponds to the
description in the poem, but there is no wood around it now; and the
trees which skirt its margin are birch, ash, oak, and hazel, but there
are no beeches. It is a short way below some fine specimens of ice-worn
rocks, which are to the right of the stream as you ascend it, and above
these rocks is a well-marked moraine. It is a deep crystal pool, and has
a "firm margin" of (artificially placed) stones. This may be the spot
described in the poem; or another, within the grounds of the Hall, may
be the place referred to. It is a sequestered nook, beside the third
waterfall as you ascend the beck--this third cascade being itself a
treble fall. Seen two or three days after rain, when the stream is full
enough to break over the whole face of the rock in showers of snowy
brightness, yet low enough to shew the rock behind its transparent veil,
it is specially beautiful. Trees change so much in eighty years that the
absence of "beeches" now would not make this site impossible. In a MS.
copy of the poem (of date Dec. 28, 1800), the last line is
'With all its poplars, we have named from you. '
Of the circular pool beneath this fall it may be said, as Wordsworth
describes it, that
'. . . both flocks and herds might drink
On its firm margin, even as from a well;'
and a "small slip of lawn" might easily have existed there in his time.
We cannot, however, be confident as to the locality, and I add the
opinion of several, whose judgment may be deferred to. Dr. Cradock
writes:
"As to Mary Hutchinson's pool, I think that it was not on the beck
anywhere, but some detached little pool, far up the hill, to the
eastwards of the Hall, in 'the woods. ' The description does not well
suit any part of Rydal beck; and no spot thereon could long 'remain
unknown,' as the brook was until lately much haunted by anglers. "
My difficulty as to a site "far up the hill" is, that it must have been
a pool of some size, if "both flocks and herds might drink" all round
it; and there is no stream, scarce even a rill that joins Rydal beck on
the right, all the way up from its junction with the Rothay. The late
Mr. Hull of Rydal Cottage, wrote:
"Although closely acquainted with every nook about Rydal Park, I have
never been able to discover any spot corresponding to that described
in Wordsworth's lines to M. H. It is possible, however, that the
'small bed of water' may have been a temporary rain pool, such as
sometimes lodges in the hollows on the mountain-slope after heavy
rain. "
Mr. F. M. Jones, the agent of the Rydal property, writes:
"I do not know of any pool of water in the Upper Rydal Park. There are
some pools up the river, 'Mirror Pool' among them; but I hardly think
there can ever have been 'beech-trees' growing near them. "
There are many difficulties, and the place cannot now be identified.
Wordsworth's own wish will doubtless be realised,
'The travellers know it not, and 'twill remain
Unknown to them. '
Ed.
* * * * *
THE WATERFALL AND THE EGLANTINE
Composed 1800. --Published 1800
[Suggested nearer to Grasmere, in the same mountain track as that
referred to in the following note. The Eglantine remained many years
afterwards, but is now gone. --I. F. ]
Included among the "Poems of the Fancy. "--Ed.
I "Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf,"
Exclaimed an angry Voice, [1]
"Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self
Between me and my choice! "
A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows 5
Thus threatened a poor Briar-rose, [2]
That, all bespattered with his foam,
And dancing high and dancing low,
Was living, as a child might know,
In an unhappy home. 10
II "Dost thou presume my course to block?
Off, off! or, puny Thing!
I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock
To which thy fibres cling. "
The Flood was tyrannous and strong; [A] 15
The patient Briar suffered long,
Nor did he utter groan or sigh,
Hoping the danger would be past;
But, seeing no relief, at last,
He ventured to reply.
