| 1845 | |
|
1798 |
| 1827 | |
|
1798 |
| 1845 | |
|
1798 |
|
1802 |
| 1827 | |
|
1798 |
| 1798 | |
|
MS. |
| 1820 | |
|
1798 |
| 1798 | |
|
1798 (some copies) |
| 1836 | |
|
1798 |
| 1800 | |
|
1798 |
I have not ventured to call this Poem an Ode; but it was
written with a hope that in the transitions, and the impassioned music
of the versification would be found the principal requisites of that
species of composition.—W. W. 1800.
The title in 1798 was Lines, written a few miles, etc. In
1815 it assumed its final form.—Ed.
Compare the Fenwick note to the poem Guilt and Sorrow
(vol. i. p.78) This visit, five years before, was on his way from "Sarum
plain," on foot and alone—after parting with his friend William
Calvert—to visit another friend, Robert Jones, in Wales.—Ed.
The river is not affected by the tides a few miles above
Tintern.— W. W. 1798.
In the edition of 1798, an additional line is here
introduced, but it is deleted in the errata. It is
'And the low copses—coming from the trees.'
Ed.
Compare The Prelude, book xi. l. 108:
'Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very Heaven.'
Ed.
This line has a close resemblance to an admirable line of
Young, the exact expression of which I cannot recollect.—W. W. 1798.
It is the line:
'And half-create the wondrous world they see.'
Night Thoughts
, (
Night
vi. l. 427).
—Ed.
Compare, in The Recluse, canto "Home at Grasmere," l. 91:
Her voice was like a hidden Bird that sang,
The thought of her was like a flash of light,
Or an unseen companionship.
Ed.
There was a Boy
Composed 1798.—Published 1800
[Written in Germany, 1799. This is an extract from the Poem on my own
poetical education. This practice of making an instrument of their own
fingers is known to most boys, though some are more skilful at it than
others. William Raincock of Rayrigg, a fine spirited lad, took the lead
of all my schoolfellows in this art.—I. F.]
This "extract" will be found in the fifth book of The Prelude, ll.
364-397. It was included among the "Poems of the Imagination." In the
editions of 1800 to 1832 it had no title, except in the table of
contents. In 1836, the finally adopted title of the poem was given in
the text, as well as in the table of contents.—Ed.
The Poem
| text | variant | footnote | line number |
| There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs And islands of Winander!—many a time, At evening, when the earliest stars began To move along the edges of the hills, Rising or setting, would he stand alone, Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake; And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth Uplifted, he, as through an instrument, Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, That they might answer him.—And they would shout Across the watery vale, and shout again, Responsive to his call,—with quivering peals, And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild Of jocund din! And, when there came a pause Of silence such as baffled his best skill: Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received Into the bosom of the steady lake. This boy was taken from his mates, and died In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old. Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale Where he was born and bred: the church-yard hangs Upon a slope above the village-school; And, through that church-yard when my way has led On summer-evenings, I believe, that there A long half-hour together I have stood Mute—looking at the grave in which he lies! Contents Note |
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 |
A |
5 10 15 20 25 30 |
| 1815 | |
|
1800 |
| 1836 | |
|
1800 |
|
1805 |
| 1836 | |
|
1800 |
|
The Prelude, 1850 |
| This and the following line were added in 1805. |
| 1815 | |
|
1805 |
| 1845 | |
|
1800 |
|
1827 |
The text of 1840 returns to that of 1800.
| 1836 | |
|
1800 |
|
1805 |
|
1827 |
| 1815 | |
|
1800 |
|
1805 |
In The Prelude the version of 1827 is adopted for
the most part.—Ed.
See Graduati Cantabrigienses (1850), by Joseph
Romily, the Registrar to the University 1832-1862.—Ed
.
Wordsworth sent this fragment in MS. to Coleridge, who was then living
at Ratzeburg, and Coleridge wrote in reply on the 10th Dec. 1798:
"The blank lines gave me as much direct pleasure as was possible in the general bustle of pleasure with which I received and read your letter. I observed, I remember, that the 'fingers woven,' etc., only puzzled me; and though I liked the twelve or fourteen first lines very well, yet I liked the remainder much better. Well, now I have read them again, they are very beautiful, and leave an affecting impression. ThatI should have recognised anywhere; and had I met these lines, running wild in the deserts of Arabia, I should have instantly screamed out 'Wordsworth'!"'uncertain heaven received
Into the bosom of the steady lake,'
The MS. copy of this poem sent to Coleridge probably lacked
the explanatory line,
'Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth,'
as another MS., in the possession of the poet's grandson, lacks it; and
the line was possibly added—as the late Mr. Dykes Campbell
suggested—"in deference to S. T. C.'s expression of puzzlement."
Fletcher Raincock—an elder brother of the William Raincock referred to in the Fenwick note to this poem, as Wordsworth's schoolfellow at Hawkshead—was with him also at Cambridge. He attended Pembroke College, and was second wrangler in 1790B. John Fleming of Rayrigg, his half-brother—the boy with whom Wordsworth used to walk round the lake of Esthwaite, in the morning before school-time, ("five miles of pleasant wandering")—was also at St. John's College, Cambridge, at this time, and had been fifth Wrangler in the preceding year, 1789. He is referred to both in the second and the fifth books of The Prelude (see notes to that poem). It is perhaps not unworthy of note that Wrangham, whose French stanzas on "The Birth of Love" Wordsworth translated into English, was in the same year—1789—third Wrangler, second Smith's prizeman, and first Chancellor's medallist; while Robert Greenwood, "the Minstrel of the Troop," who "blew his flute, alone upon the rock" in Windermere,—also one of the characters referred to in the second book of The Prelude,—was sixteenth Wrangler in Wordsworth's year, viz. 1791. William Raincock was at St. John's College, Cambridge.—Ed.
Fletcher Raincock—an elder brother of the William Raincock referred to in the Fenwick note to this poem, as Wordsworth's schoolfellow at Hawkshead—was with him also at Cambridge. He attended Pembroke College, and was second wrangler in 1790B. John Fleming of Rayrigg, his half-brother—the boy with whom Wordsworth used to walk round the lake of Esthwaite, in the morning before school-time, ("five miles of pleasant wandering")—was also at St. John's College, Cambridge, at this time, and had been fifth Wrangler in the preceding year, 1789. He is referred to both in the second and the fifth books of The Prelude (see notes to that poem). It is perhaps not unworthy of note that Wrangham, whose French stanzas on "The Birth of Love" Wordsworth translated into English, was in the same year—1789—third Wrangler, second Smith's prizeman, and first Chancellor's medallist; while Robert Greenwood, "the Minstrel of the Troop," who "blew his flute, alone upon the rock" in Windermere,—also one of the characters referred to in the second book of The Prelude,—was sixteenth Wrangler in Wordsworth's year, viz. 1791. William Raincock was at St. John's College, Cambridge.—Ed.
The Two Thieves; or, the Last Stage of Avarice
Composed 1798.—Published 1800
[This is described from the life, as I was in the habit of observing
when a boy at Hawkshead School. Daniel was more than eighty years older
than myself when he was daily, thus occupied, under my notice. No books
have so early taught me to think of the changes to which human life is
subject, and while looking at him I could not but say to myself—we may,
one of us, I or the happiest of my playmates, live to become still more
the object of pity, than this old man, this half-doating
pilferer.—I. F.]
Included among the "Poems referring to the Period of Old Age."—Ed.
The Poem
| text | variant | footnote | line number |
| O now that the genius of Bewick were mine, And the skill which he learned on the banks of the Tyne, Then the Muses might deal with me just as they chose, For I'd take my last leave both of verse and of prose. What feats would I work with my magical hand! Book-learning and books should be banished the land: And, for hunger and thirst and such troublesome calls, Every ale-house should then have a feast on its walls. The traveller would hang his wet clothes on a chair; Let them smoke, let them burn, not a straw would he care! For the Prodigal Son, Joseph's Dream and his sheaves, Oh, what would they be to my tale of two Thieves? The One, yet unbreeched, is not three birthdays old, His Grandsire that age more than thirty times told; There are ninety good seasons of fair and foul weather Between them, and both go a-pilfering together. With chips is the carpenter strewing his floor? Is a cart-load of turf at an old woman's door? Old Daniel his hand to the treasure will slide! And his Grandson's as busy at work by his side. Old Daniel begins; he stops short—and his eye, Through the lost look of dotage, is cunning and sly: 'Tis a look which at this time is hardly his own, But tells a plain tale of the days that are flown. He once had a heart which was moved by the wires Of manifold pleasures and many desires: And what if he cherished his purse? 'Twas no more Than treading a path trod by thousands before. 'Twas a path trod by thousands; but Daniel is one Who went something farther than others have gone, And now with old Daniel you see how it fares; You see to what end he has brought his grey hairs. The pair sally forth hand in hand: ere the sun Has peered o'er the beeches, their work is begun: And yet, into whatever sin they may fall, This child but half knows it, and that not at all. They hunt through the streets with deliberate tread, And each, in his turn, becomes leader or led; And, wherever they carry their plots and their wiles, Every face in the village is dimpled with smiles. Neither checked by the rich nor the needy they roam; For the grey-headed Sire has a daughter at home, Who will gladly repair all the damage that's done; And three, were it asked, would be rendered for one. Old Man! whom so oft I with pity have eyed, I love thee, and love the sweet Boy at thy side: Long yet may'st thou live! for a teacher we see That lifts up the veil of our nature in thee. Contents |
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 |
A B |
5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 |
| 1800 | |
|
MS. 1798 |
| 1800 | |
|
MS. 1798. |