The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 2 (of 8)

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

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Variant 2:

1820
Its very playmate, and its moving soul.	1800

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Variant 3:

1802
... tall plant ...	1800

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Variant 4:

1827
... sweet ...	1800

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Variant 5:

1800
... with listening ...	C.

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Variant 6:

1820
And in the fashion which I have describ'd, Feeding unthinking fancies, we advanc'd	1800

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Variant 7:

1827
... we saw	1800

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Variant 8:

1800
... a lake.	1802

The text of 1815 returns to that of 1800.

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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

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Footnote A:

A new road has destroyed this retirement. (MS. footnote in Lord Coleridge's copy of the edition of 1836.)—Ed.

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Note:

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.

Contents: Poems on the Naming of Places
Main Contents

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.]

The Poem

text	variant	footnote	line number
Our walk was far among the ancient trees: There was no road, nor any woodman's path; But a thick umbrage—checking the wild growth Of weed and sapling, along soft green turf Beneath the branches—of itself had made A track, that 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 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; 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, 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! Note Contents	1 2 3 4		5 10 15 20

Variant 1:

1836
But the ...	1800

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Variant 2:

1827
... on the soft green turf	1800
... smooth dry ground	MS.

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Variant 3:

1827
... which ...	1800

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Variant 4:

1800
... for You.	1802

The text of 1815 returns to that of 1800.

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Note:

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.

Contents: Poems on the Naming of Places
Main Contents

The Waterfall and the Eglantine

Composed 1800.—Published 1800

Included among the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.

The Poem

stanza	text	variant	footnote	line number
I	"Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf," Exclaimed an angry Voice, "Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self Between me and my choice!" A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows Thus threatened a poor Briar-rose, That, all bespattered with his foam, And dancing high and dancing low, Was living, as a child might know, In an unhappy home.	1 2		5 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; 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.		A	15 20
III	"Ah!" said the Briar, "blame me not; Why should we dwell in strife? We who in this sequestered spot Once lived a happy life! You stirred me on my rocky bed— What pleasure through my veins you spread The summer long, from day to day, My leaves you freshened and bedewed; Nor was it common gratitude That did your cares repay.	3		25 30
IV	"When spring came on with bud and bell, Among these rocks did I Before you hang my wreaths to tell That gentle days were nigh! And in the sultry summer hours, I sheltered you with leaves and flowers; And in my leaves—now shed and gone, The linnet lodged, and for us two Chanted his pretty songs, when you Had little voice or none.	4	B	35 40
V	"But now proud thoughts are in your breast— What grief is mine you see, Ah! would you think, even yet how blest Together we might be! Though of both leaf and flower bereft, Some ornaments to me are left— Rich store of scarlet hips is mine, With which I, in my humble way, Would deck you many a winter day, A happy Eglantine!"	5		45 50
VI	What more he said I cannot tell, The Torrent down the rocky dell Came thundering loud and fast; I listened, nor aught else could hear; The Briar quaked—and much I fear Those accents were his last. Note Contents	6		55

Variant 1:

1836
... a thundering Voice,	1800

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Variant 2:

1820
A falling Water swoln with snows Thus spake to a poor Briar-rose,	1800

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Variant 3:

1820
... in this, our natal spot,	1800

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Variant 4:

1815
... wreath ...	1800

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Variant 5:

1836
... Winter's day,	1800

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Variant 6:

1840
The stream came thundering down the dell And gallop'd loud and fast;	1800
The Torrent thundered down the dell With unabating haste;	1815
With aggravated haste;	1827
The Stream came thundering down the dell	1836

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Footnote A:

Compare The Ancient Mariner (part I. stanza II.):

And now the Storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong.

Ed.

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Footnote B:

Compare A Farewell, p. 325, l. 17.—Ed.

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Note:

The spot referred to in this poem can be identified with perfect accuracy. The Eglantine grew on the little brook that runs past two cottages (close to the path under Nab Scar), which have been built since the poet's time, and are marked Brockstone on the Ordnance Map.

"The plant itself of course has long disappeared: but in following up the rill through the copse, above the cottages, I found an unusually large Eglantine, growing by the side of the stream."

(Dr Cradock to the editor, in 1877.) It still grows luxuriantly there.

The following extract from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal illustrates both this and the next poem:

"Friday, 23rd April 1802.—It being a beautiful morning, we set off at eleven o'clock, intending to stay out of doors all the morning. We went towards Rydal, under Nab Scar. The sun shone and we were lazy. Coleridge pitched upon several places to sit down upon; but we could not be all of one mind respecting sun and shade, so we pushed on to the foot of the Scar. It was very grand when we looked up, very stony; here and there a budding tree. William observed that the umbrella Yew-tree that breasts the wind had lost its character as a tree, and had become like solid wood. Coleridge and I pushed on before. We left William sitting on the stones, feasting with silence, and I sat down upon a rocky seat, a couch it might be, under the Bower of William's 'Eglantine,' 'Andrew's Broom.' He was below us, and we could see him. He came to us, and repeated his Poems, while we sat beside him. We lingered long, looking into the vales; Ambleside Vale, with the copses, the village under the hill, and the green fields; Rydale, with a lake all alive and glittering, yet but little stirred by breezes; and our own dear Grasmere, making a little round lake of Nature's own, with never a house, never a green field, but the copses and the bare hills enclosing it, and the river flowing out of it. Above rose the Coniston Fells, in their own shape and colour, ... the sky, and the clouds, and a few wild creatures. Coleridge went to search for something new. We saw him climbing up towards a rock. He called us, and we found him in a bower,—the sweetest that was ever seen. The rock on one side is very high, and all covered with ivy, which hung loosely about, and bore bunches of brown berries. On the other side, it was higher than my head. We looked down on the Ambleside vale, that seemed to wind away from us, the village lying under the hill. The fir tree island was reflected beautifully.... About this bower there is mountain-ash, common ash, yew tree, ivy, holly, hawthorn, roses, flowers, and a carpet of moss. Above at the top of the rock there is another spot. It is scarce a bower, a little parlour, not enclosed by walls, but shaped out for a resting-place by the rocks, and the ground rising about it. It had a sweet moss carpet. We resolved to go and plant flowers, in both these places to-morrow."

This extract is taken from the "Journal" as originally transcribed by me in 1889. When it appears in this edition it will be greatly enlarged.—Ed.

Contents: Poems on the Naming of Places
Main Contents

[Suggested upon the mountain pathway that leads from Upper Rydal to Grasmere. The ponderous block of stone, which is mentioned in the poem, remains, I believe, to this day, a good way up Nab-Scar. Broom grows under it, and in many places on the side of the precipice.—I. F.]

One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.

The Poem

stanza	text	variant	footnote	line number
I	His simple truths did Andrew glean Beside the babbling rills; A careful student he had been Among the woods and hills. One winter's night, when through the trees The wind was roaring, on his knees His youngest born did Andrew hold: And while the rest, a ruddy quire, Were seated round their blazing fire, This Tale the Shepherd told.	1		5 10
II	"I saw a crag, a lofty stone As ever tempest beat! Out of its head an Oak had grown, A Broom out of its feet. The time was March, a cheerful noon— The thaw wind, with the breath of June, Breathed gently from the warm south-west: When, in a voice sedate with age, This Oak, a giant and a sage, His neighbour thus addressed:—	2		15 20
III	"'Eight weary weeks, through rock and clay, Along this mountain's edge, The Frost hath wrought both night and day, Wedge driving after wedge. Look up! and think, above your head What trouble, surely, will be bred; Last night I heard a crash—'tis true, The splinters took another road— I see them yonder—what a load For such a Thing as you!			25 30
IV	"'You are preparing as before To deck your slender shape; And yet, just three years back—no more— You had a strange escape: Down from yon cliff a fragment broke; It thundered down, with fire and smoke, And hitherward pursued its way; This ponderous block was caught by me, And o'er your head, as you may see, 'Tis hanging to this day!	3		35 40
V	"'If breeze or bird to this rough steep Your kind's first seed did bear; The breeze had better been asleep, The bird caught in a snare: For you and your green twigs decoy The little witless shepherd-boy To come and slumber in your bower; And, trust me, on some sultry noon, Both you and he, Heaven knows how soon! Will perish in one hour.	4		45 50
VI	"'From me this friendly warning take'— The Broom began to doze, And thus, to keep herself awake, Did gently interpose: 'My thanks for your discourse are due; That more than what you say is true, I know, and I have known it long; Frail is the bond by which we hold Our being, whether young or old, Wise, foolish, weak, or strong.	5 6		55 60
VII	"'Disasters, do the best we can, Will reach both great and small; And he is oft the wisest man, Who is not wise at all. For me, why should I wish to roam? This spot is my paternal home, It is my pleasant heritage; My father many a happy year, Spread here his careless blossoms, here Attained a good old age.	7		65 70
VIII	"'Even such as his may be my lot. What cause have I to haunt My heart with terrors? Am I not In truth a favoured plant! On me such bounty Summer pours, That I am covered o'er with flowers; And, when the Frost is in the sky, My branches are so fresh and gay That you might look at me and say, This Plant can never die.	8 9		75 80
IX	"'The butterfly, all green and gold, To me hath often flown, Here in my blossoms to behold Wings lovely as his own. When grass is chill with rain or dew, Beneath my shade, the mother-ewe Lies with her infant lamb; I see The love they to each other make, And the sweet joy which they partake, It is a joy to me.'			85 90
X	"Her voice was blithe, her heart was light; The Broom might have pursued Her speech, until the stars of night Their journey had renewed; But in the branches of the oak Two ravens now began to croak Their nuptial song, a gladsome air; And to her own green bower the breeze That instant brought two stripling bees To rest, or murmur there.	10		95 100
XI	"One night, my Children! from the north There came a furious blast; At break of day I ventured forth, And near the cliff I passed. The storm had fallen upon the Oak, And struck him with a mighty stroke, And whirled, and whirled him far away; And, in one hospitable cleft, The little careless Broom was left To live for many a day." Note Contents	11		105 110

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 2 (of 8)

About This Book

To M. H.

Composed 1800.—Published 1800

The Poem

The Waterfall and the Eglantine

Composed 1800.—Published 1800

The Poem

The Oak and the Broom

A Pastoral

Composed 1800.—Published 1800

The Poem