Note:
See the note to the previous poem. The line
'These pathways, yon far-stretching road!'
refers probably to the road to Brownhill, past Ellisland farmhouse
where Burns lived. "The day following" would be Aug. 19th,
1803. The extract which follows from the Journal is a further
illustration of the poem. August 8th.
"... Travelled through the vale of Nith, here little like a vale, it is so broad, with irregular hills rising up on each side, in outline resembling the old-fashioned valances of a bed. There is a great deal of arable land; the corn ripe; trees here and there—plantations, clumps, coppices, a newness in everything. So much of the gorse and broom rooted out that you wonder why it is not all gone, and yet there seems to be almost as much gorse and broom as corn; and they grow one among another you know not how. Crossed the Nith; the vale becomes narrow, and very pleasant; cornfields, green hills, clay cottages; the river's bed rocky, with woody banks. Left the Nith about a mile and a half, and reached Brownhill, a lonely inn, where we slept. The view from the windows was pleasing, though some travellers might have been disposed to quarrel with it for its general nakedness; yet there was abundance of corn. It is an open country—open, yet all over hills. At a little distance were many cottages among trees, that looked very pretty. Brownhill is about seven or eight miles from Ellisland. I fancied to myself, while I was sitting in the parlour, that Burns might have caroused there, for most likely his rounds extended so far, and this thought gave a melancholy interest to the smoky walls...."
On Dec. 23, 1839, Wordsworth wrote to Professor Henry Reed,
Philadelphia:
"The other day I chanced to be looking over a MS. poem belonging to the year 1803, though not actually composed till many years afterwards. It was suggested by visiting the neighbourhood of Dumfries, in which Burns had resided, and where he died: it concluded thus:I instantly added, the other day,'Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven, etc.'The more I reflect upon this, the more I feel justified in attaching comparatively small importance to any literary monument that I may be enabled to leave behind. It is well however, I am convinced, that men think otherwise in the earlier part of their lives...."'But why to Him confine the prayer, etc.'
It may be mentioned that in his note to the "Poems, chiefly
of Early and Late Years," (1842), Wordsworth does not quote
from the text of his sister's Journal,—which was first published
in 1875,—but from some other copy of it.—Ed.
To the Sons of Burns, after Visiting the Grave of their FatherA
Composed before 1807B—Published 1807
Poet's grave is in a corner of the church-yard. We looked at it with
melancholy and painful reflections, repeating to each other his own
verses:
'Is there a man whose judgment clear, etc.'
Extract from the Journal of my Fellow-Traveller.
—W. W. 1827.
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection" in the 1815 and 1820
editions.—Ed.
The Poem
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| 'Mid crowded obelisks and urns I sought the untimely grave of Burns; Sons of the Bard, my heart still mourns With sorrow true; And more would grieve, but that it turns Trembling to you! Through twilight shades of good and ill Ye now are panting up life's hill, And more than common strength and skill Must ye display; If ye would give the better will Its lawful sway. Hath Nature strung your nerves to bear Intemperance with less harm, beware! But if the Poet's wit ye share, Like him can speed The social hour—of tenfold care There will be need; For honest men delight will take To spare your failings for his sake, Will flatter you,—and fool and rake Your steps pursue; And of your Father's name will make A snare for you. Far from their noisy haunts retire, And add your voices to the quire That sanctify the cottage fire With service meet; There seek the genius of your Sire, His spirit greet; Or where,'mid "lonely heights and hows," He paid to Nature tuneful vows; Or wiped his honourable brows Bedewed with toil, While reapers strove, or busy ploughs Upturned the soil; His judgment with benignant ray Shall guide, his fancy cheer, your way; But ne'er to a seductive lay Let faith be given; Nor deem that "light which leads astray, Is light from Heaven." Let no mean hope your souls enslave; Be independent, generous, brave; Your Father such example gave, And such revere; But be admonished by his grave, And think, and fear! Note Contents 1803 Main Contents |
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In the edition of 1807, this poem has the title Address to
the Sons of Burns after visiting their Father's Grave (August 14th,
1803). Slight changes were made in the title afterwards.—Ed.
Dorothy Wordsworth wrote, in her Recollections of this
tour, under date August 18th, 1803,
"William wrote long afterwards the following Address to the sons of the ill-fated poet."
Ed.
This explanatory note appears in every edition of the Poems
from 1827 to 1850. It is taken (but not literally) from the
Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland as published in 1875.—Ed.
From Burns's Epistle to James Smith, l. 53.—Ed.
From Burns's poem, The Vision, Duan Second.—Ed.
In the edition of 1807, the poem began with what is now the
second stanza, and consisted of four stanzas only, viz. Nos. ii., iii.,
iv., and viii. Stanzas i., v., vi., and vii. were added in 1827. Stanza
iii. was omitted in 1820, but restored in 1827.—Ed.
Note:
In Dorothy Wordsworth's Recollections of this Tour we find, under date
August 18, 1803:
"The grave of Burns's Son, which we had just seen by the side of his Father, and some stories heard at Dumfries respecting the dangers his surviving children were exposed to, filled us with melancholy concern, which had a kind of connection with ourselves."
"The body of Burns was not allowed to remain long in this place. To suit the plan of a rather showy mausoleum his remains were removed into a more commodious spot of the same kirkyard on the 5th July 1815."—(Allan Cunningham.)
Ellen Irwin; or, the Braes of Kirtle, comes next in this series of
"Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803." It has already been printed,
however, (p. 124), in its proper chronological place, among the poems
belonging to the year 1800. —Ed.
To a Highland Girl
(at Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond)
Composed 1803.—Published 1807
Classed in 1815 and 1820 as one of the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
[This delightful creature and her demeanour are particularly described
in my Sister's Journal. The sort of prophecy with which the verses
conclude has, through God's goodness, been realized; and now,
approaching the close of my 73rd year, I have a most vivid remembrance
of her and the beautiful objects with which she was surrounded. She is
alluded to in the poem of 'The Three Cottage Girls' among my Continental
Memorials. In illustration of this class of poems I have scarcely
anything to say beyond what is anticipated in my Sister's faithful and
admirable Journal.—I. F.]
The Poem
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| Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower! Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head: And these grey rocks; that household lawn; Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water that doth make A murmur near the silent lake; This little bay; a quiet road That holds in shelter thy Abode— In truth together do ye seem Like something fashioned in a dream; Such Forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep! But, O fair Creature! in the light Of common day, so heavenly bright, I bless Thee, Vision as thou art, I bless thee with a human heart; God shield thee to thy latest years! Thee, neither know I, nor thy peers; And yet my eyes are filled with tears. With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away: For never saw I mien, or face, In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here scattered, like a random seed, Remote from men, Thou dost not need The embarrassed look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness: Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a Mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread! Soft smiles, by human kindness bred! And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life! So have I, not unmoved in mind, Seen birds of tempest-loving kind— Thus beating up against the wind. What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful? O happy pleasure! here to dwell Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways and dress, A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess! But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood. What joy to hear thee, and to see! Thy elder Brother I would be, Thy Father—anything to thee! Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had; and going hence I bear away my recompence. In spots like these it is we prize Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes: Then, why should I be loth to stir? I feel this place was made for her; To give new pleasure like the past, Continued long as life shall last. Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart, Sweet Highland Girl! from thee to part; For I, methinks, till I grow old, As fair before me shall behold, As I do now, the cabin small, The lake, the bay, the waterfall; And Thee, the Spirit of them all! Note Contents 1803 Main Contents |
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The text of 1845 returns to that of 1827.
The two preceding lines were added in 1845.
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"The distribution of 'these,' 'that,' and 'those' in these two lines, was attained in 1845, after various changes. "
(Edward Dowden.)
Compare Virgil's Eclogues, x. 35:
'Atque utinam ex vobis unus, etc.'
Ed.
Note:
In her Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland, 1803, Dorothy
Wordsworth writes:
"Sunday, August 28th.—... After long waiting, the girls, who had been on the look-out, informed us that the boat was coming. I went to the waterside, and saw a cluster of people on the opposite shore; but, being yet at a distance, they looked more like soldiers surrounding a carriage than a group of men and women; red and green were the distinguishable colours. We hastened to get ourselves ready as soon as we saw the party approach, but had longer to wait than we expected, the lake being wider than it appears to be. As they drew near we could distinguish men in tartan plaids, women in scarlet cloaks, and green umbrellas by the half-dozen. The landing was as pretty a sight as ever I saw. The bay, which had been so quiet two days before, was all in motion with small waves, while the swollen waterfall roared in our ears. The boat came steadily up, being pressed almost to the water's edge by the weight of its cargo; perhaps twenty people landed, one after another. It did not rain much, but the women held up their umbrellas; they were dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, and with their scarlet cardinals, the tartan plaids of the men, and Scotch bonnets, made a gay appearance. There was a joyous bustle surrounding the boat, which even imparted something of the same character to the waterfall in its tumult, and the restless grey waves; the young men laughed and shouted, the lasses laughed, and the elder folks seemed to be in a bustle to be away. I remember well with what haste the mistress of the house where we were ran up to seek after her child, and seeing us, how anxiously and kindly she inquired how we had fared, if we had had a good fire, had been well waited upon, etc. All this in three minutes—for the boatman had another party to bring from the other side, and hurried us off.
"The hospitality we had met with at the two cottages and Mr. Macfarlane's gave us very favourable impressions on this our first entrance into the Highlands, and at this day the innocent merriment of the girls, with their kindness to us, and the beautiful face and figure of the elder, come to my mind whenever I think of the ferry-house and waterfall of Loch Lomond, and I never think of the two girls but the whole image of that romantic spot is before me, a living image as it will be to my dying day. The following poem was written by William not long after our return from Scotland."
Compare the poem called The Three Cottage Girls, in the "Memorials of
a Tour on the Continent, 1820," published in 1822.—Ed.
Glen-Almain; or, The Narrow Glen
Composed (possibly) in 1803.—Published 1807
Classed in 1815 and 1820 with the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
The Poem
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| In this still place, remote from men, Sleeps Ossian, in the Narrow Glen; In this still place, where murmurs on But one meek streamlet, only one: He sang of battles, and the breath Of stormy war, and violent death; And should, methinks, when all was past, Have rightfully been laid at last Where rocks were rudely heaped, and rent As by a spirit turbulent; Where sights were rough, and sounds were wild, And everything unreconciled; In some complaining, dim retreat, For fear and melancholy meet; But this is calm; there cannot be A more entire tranquillity. Does then the Bard sleep here indeed? Or is it but a groundless creed? What matters it?—I blame them not Whose Fancy in this lonely Spot Was moved; and in such way expressed Their notion of its perfect rest. A convent, even a hermit's cell, Would break the silence of this Dell: It is not quiet, is not ease; But something deeper far than these: The separation that is here Is of the grave; and of austere Yet happy feelings of the dead: And, therefore, was it rightly said That Ossian, last of all his race! Lies buried in this lonely place. Note Contents 1803 Main Contents |
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