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The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 6 (of 8)

Chapter 128: POSTSCRIPT
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About This Book

A varied collection of lyric and narrative poems, odes, and meditative pieces that move between intimate responses to particular landscapes and broader classical or historical reflection. Recurring concerns include the relationship between humans and nature, memory and loss, spiritual contemplation, and reactions to public events; forms range from short lyrics and inscriptions to longer blank-verse meditations and dramatic scenes. Frequent classical allusions and moral questioning refract personal feeling into wider imaginative inquiry, while vivid depictions of rivers, hills, storms, and rural life provide concrete settings for elegiac, contemplative, and celebratory moods.

[FZ] "This tradition appears to have completely died out. I asked many old inhabitants of the place if they had ever heard such a story, but it was quite new to them.

The scene of the tragedy is not, however, very difficult to identify. There are very few 'hidden pools' in this part of the stream; it is mostly a shallow, brawling brook. I have carefully tracked the stream from Donnerdale Bridge to Ulpha Bridge, and can only find two places which at all answer to the description given in the sonnet. One of these is opposite the 'Traveller's Rest' inn, the other, is a little higher up. This latter is a deep and placid pool, situated half way down a curious corridor, known as 'Long Dub,' where the stream flows for some distance in a straight line between walls of rough mountain slate, the strata having been tilted almost at right angles to their natural position. Here a little rill tumbles into the Duddon by a miniature cascade, and the pool is sheltered and darkened by oak and beech—a not unlikely spot to have inspired the sonnet." (Herbert Rix.)


XXIII

SHEEP-WASHING[GA]

Sad thoughts, avaunt!—partake we their blithe cheer
Who gathered in betimes the unshorn flock
To wash the fleece, where haply bands of rock,
Checking the stream, make a pool smooth and clear
5
As this we look on. Distant Mountains hear,[454]
Hear and repeat, the turmoil that unites
Clamour of boys with innocent despites
Of barking dogs, and bleatings from strange fear.
And what if Duddon's spotless flood receive[455]
10
Unwelcome mixtures as the uncouth noise
Thickens, the pastoral River will forgive
Such wrong; nor need we blame the licensed joys,
Though false to Nature's quiet equipoise:
Frank are the sports, the stains are fugitive.

VARIANTS:

[454] 1845.

Sad thoughts, avaunt!—the fervour of the year,
Poured on the fleece-encumbered flock, invites
To laving currents, for prelusive rites
Duly performed before the Dales-men shear
1820.
Their panting charge. The distant Mountains hear,

[455] 1845.

1820.
Meanwhile, if Duddon's spotless breast receive

FOOTNOTE:

[GA] "The pool under Ulpha Bridge has for many generations been used for sheep-washing. The sheep from Birks Farm are now (1894) washed there every year. If we suppose the poet, in one of his frequent journeys down the valley, to have paused upon the bridge to witness this pastoral sight, the local order of the Sonnets is maintained." (Herbert Rix.)


XXIV

THE RESTING-PLACE

Mid-noon is past;—upon the sultry mead
No zephyr breathes, no cloud its shadow throws:
If we advance unstrengthened by repose,
Farewell the solace of the vagrant reed!
5
This Nook[GB]—with woodbine hung and straggling weed,
Tempting recess as ever pilgrim chose,
Half grot, half arbour—proffers to enclose
Body and mind, from molestation freed,
In narrow compass—narrow as itself:
10
Or if the Fancy, too industrious Elf,
Be loth that we should breathe awhile exempt
From new incitements friendly to our task,
Here[456] wants not stealthy prospect, that may tempt
Loose Idless to forego her wily mask.

VARIANT:

[456] 1837.

1820.
There .    .    .

FOOTNOTE:

[GB] See note to Sonnet xxvii.—Ed.


XXV

"METHINKS 'TWERE NO UNPRECEDENTED FEAT"

Methinks 'twere no unprecedented feat
Should some benignant Minister of air
Lift, and encircle with a cloudy chair,
The One for whom my heart shall ever beat
5
With tenderest love;—or, if a safer seat
Atween his downy wings be furnished, there
Would lodge her, and the cherished burden bear
O'er hill and valley to this dim retreat!
Rough ways my steps have trod; too rough and long
10
For her companionship; here dwells soft ease:
With sweets that[457] she partakes not some distaste
Mingles, and lurking consciousness of wrong;
Languish the flowers; the waters seem to waste
Their vocal charm; their sparklings cease to please.

VARIANT:

[457] 1837.

1820.
.    .    . which .    .    .

XXVI

"RETURN, CONTENT! FOR FONDLY I PURSUED"

Return, Content! for fondly I pursued,
Even when a child, the Streams[GC]—unheard, unseen;
Through tangled woods, impending rocks between;
Or, free as air, with flying inquest viewed
5
The sullen reservoirs whence their bold brood—
Pure as the morning, fretful, boisterous, keen,
Green as the[458] salt-sea billows, white and green—
Poured down the hills, a choral multitude!
Nor have I tracked their course for scanty gains;
10
They taught me random cares and truant joys,
That shield from mischief and preserve from stains
Vague minds, while men are growing out of boys;
Maturer Fancy owes to their rough noise
Impetuous thoughts that brook not servile reins.

VARIANT:

[458] 1820.

c.
Sparkling like .    .    .

FOOTNOTE:

[GC] See note to Sonnet XXVII.—Ed.


XXVII

"FALLEN, AND DIFFUSED INTO A SHAPELESS HEAP"

Fallen, and diffused into a shapeless heap,
Or quietly self-buried in earth's mould,
Is that embattled House, whose massy Keep
Flung from yon cliff[459] a shadow large and cold.
5
There dwelt the gay, the bountiful, the bold;
Till nightly lamentations, like the sweep
Of winds—though[460] winds were silent—struck a deep
And lasting terror through that ancient Hold.
Its line of Warriors fled;—they shrunk when tried[461]
10
By ghostly power:—but Time's unsparing hand
Hath plucked such foes, like weeds, from out the land;
And now, if men with men in peace abide,
All other strength the weakest may withstand,
All worse assaults may safely be defied.[GD]

VARIANTS:

[459] 1819.

ms.
.    .    . height .    .    .

[460] 1827.

ms. and 1819.
.    .    . when .    .    .

[461] 1819.

There dwelt the rash, the bountiful, the bold,
The fair, the gay; undaunted, unabased;
Till supernatural visitation chased
That line of warriors from their ancient hold.
ms.
—Stranger they fled—their courage shrunk when tried

[462] Mr. J. Denton, quoted in Whellan's History and Topography, p. 410.


FOOTNOTE:

[GD] Sonnet No. XXVII. having been first published in The Waggoner and other poems (1819), was not reprinted in either of the editions of 1820. It was "taken from a tradition belonging to Rydal Hall," as is explained in the Fenwick note, p. 226.—Ed.

"Sonnets XXIV. to XXVII. appear to have been written in one spot,—some 'Nook—with woodbine hung and straggling weed.' If the poet has strictly retained in the sonnets the order in which the places lie upon the river-bank, this nook must be within a stone's throw of the pool mentioned in the preceding note, for the scenes of Sonnets XXIX. and XXXI. are close at hand. But, though there are plenty of such 'grottos' or 'arbours' here, some difficulty arises from the fact that the Old Hall and ruined keep cannot be seen from this part of the stream, nor, indeed, can they be seen from Ulpha itself, nor from any part of the high road. The height upon which the ruin stands is certainly a prominent feature in the landscape, but the ruin itself is completely hidden by a shoulder of the hill, neither can the hill by any stretch of the imagination be called a 'cliff.'

The only point of view from which the castle appears to stand upon a 'cliff' is reached by a footpath near some copper works, about half way up Holehouse Ghyll. Here you see the ruin at the end (or rather bend) of the Ghyll high above your head, the sides of the ravine rising steeply to its walls. Holehouse Ghyll is thickly wooded, so that this may very possibly be the poet's 'dim retreat,' the chief objection being that the Ghyll lies below Ulpha Kirk, and that the order of the sonnets would thus be broken.

But wherever the poet's 'nook' may have been, there can be little doubt that the fragment of masonry near the farmhouse called 'The Old Hall,' represents the 'embattled house' of Sonnet XXVII., for Broughton Tower, the only other fortified house in the valley, is still some miles away, and the rising ground upon which it stands is no cliff, but a mere undulation in the centre of the nether valley. Of the Castle at the head of Holehouse Ghyll there is little enough remaining—less, even, than in Wordsworth's day, for a woman living in a cottage close by it assured me that she could remember when there was much more of it standing than at the present time. The cause to which she assigned its rapid disappearance was not, however, the same as that assigned in the first two lines of the sonnet. According to her, natural decay had less to do with it than the destructive hands of the dalesmen, who pulled the stones down to mend the fell-walls with. A native of Ulpha added that a new barn was built for the adjoining farmhouse some little time since, and that a great part of the materials doubtless came from the old ruin.

A ragged piece of wall three to four feet in thickness, with three small square windows splayed inwards, and a fireplace about 6 feet long by 12 feet high, with a wide chimney, is all that now remains in situ, of this seat of the Lords of Ulpha.

As to the ghostly tradition embodied in Sonnet XXVII. Wordsworth himself has explained (see the Fenwick note) that it was borrowed from Rydal Hall. But the 'Old Hall' has a weird tradition of its own, for in the bottom of the Ghyll beneath the Castle walls, there is a pool, called 'The Lady's Dub,' where in old times a lady was killed by one of the numerous wolves which formerly infested the region. This is, in fact, the origin, according to some of the inhabitants, of the name 'Ulpha' ('Wolfa'). But a more likely derivation seems to be from Ulf, the father of Ketell, the father of Bennett, the father of Allan. Ketell lived in Henry III.'s reign, and Bennett in King John's, and to their ancestor Ulf the lordship of 'Ulphay' was granted.[462]

Mr. Chattock has given an excellent etching of the ruin.

If the 'Nook' of Sonnet XXIV. be in Holehouse Ghyll, and the 'embattled House' of Sonnet XXVII. be The Old Hall seen from that spot, then Sonnet XXVI. should specially refer to the stream which rushes down that Ghyll. 'Through tangled woods' well suits this stream; and even the 'sullen reservoirs' are not wanting if the two 'dubs' at the upper end of the Ghyll are taken into account." (Herbert Rix.)


XXVIII

JOURNEY RENEWED

I rose while yet the cattle, heat-opprest,
Crowded together under rustling trees
Brushed by the current of the water-breeze;
And for their sakes, and love of all that rest,
5
On Duddon's margin, in the sheltering nest;
For all the startled scaly tribes that slink
Into his coverts, and each fearless link
Of dancing insects forged upon his breast;
For these, and hopes and recollections worn
10
Close to the vital seat of human clay;
Glad meetings, tender partings, that upstay
The drooping mind of absence, by vows sworn
In his pure presence near the trysting thorn—
I thanked the Leader of my onward way.

XXIX

"NO RECORD TELLS OF LANCE OPPOSED TO LANCE"

No record tells of lance opposed to lance,
Horse charging horse, 'mid these retired domains;
Tells that[463] their turf drank purple from the veins
Of heroes, fallen, or struggling to advance,
5
Till doubtful combat issued in a trance
Of victory, that struck through heart and reins
Even to the inmost seat of mortal pains,
And lightened o'er the pallid countenance.
Yet, to the loyal and the brave, who lie
10
In the blank earth, neglected and forlorn,
The passing Winds memorial tribute pay;
The Torrents chant their praise, inspiring scorn
Of power usurped; with proclamation high,
And glad acknowledgment, of lawful sway.[GE]

VARIANTS:

[463] 1827.

1820.
Nor that .    .    .

FOOTNOTE:

[GE] "On the left or east bank of the Duddon, a little higher than Ulpha Bridge, near a farmhouse called New Close is a small enclosure, 44 feet square, with two old fir-trees and a quantity of laurels, which there can be little doubt is the scene of Sonnet XXIX.

The enclosure, known to the country people as the Sepulchre, is an old burial-place of the Society of Friends, none having been interred there since 1755, when a Friend from Birker, a small hamlet about four miles distant, was buried.[464]

The following two lines literally describe the condition of the little burial-ground:—

Yet, to the loyal and the brave, who lie
In the blank earth, neglected and forlorn;—

the earth is 'blank,' because there is not a single tombstone, and the graves are (at any rate at the present time) most literally 'neglected and forlorn,' for the place is a tangle of rank grass and untrimmed bushes.

About the year 1842 it was planted with fruit-trees, but when Wordsworth saw it, it probably presented much the same appearance as at present.

The opening lines—

No record tells of lance opposed to lance, etc.,

and indeed the whole sonnet obtains a new significance from the association of the spot which it describes with the men of peace." (Herbert Rix.)

"There are few more touching scenes in the Duddon Valley than the little lonely hillside burial-place of the early Friends, spoken of in Sonnet XXIX. All round the inside of the rude wall enclosure are still to be seen the stone seats used by the followers of Fox, who were forbidden to hold their meetings under any lower roof than the canopy of Heaven. The Scotch firs have grown into stately shade since the Quakers sat in silent meditation high up, lifted above the life of the valley and the noise of Duddon and the tributary stream just opposite. But though the Friends lie here in unvisited graves, the earth is neither blank nor forlorn. Laurels glisten above their rest, and the Spiræa salicifolia waves its light wands of flower above their sleep, all evidences of care for the heroes of a cause that is not dead yet." (H. D. Rawnsley.)

[464] See Furness and Furness Abbey, by Francis Evans (8vo, Ulverston, 1842), p. 180.


XXX

"WHO SWERVES FROM INNOCENCE, WHO MAKES DIVORCE"

Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorce
Of that serene companion—a good name,
Recovers not his loss; but walks with shame,
With doubt, with fear, and haply with remorse:
5
And oft-times he—who, yielding to the force
Of chance-temptation, ere his journey end,
From chosen comrade turns, or faithful friend—
In vain shall rue the broken intercourse.
Not so with such as loosely wear the chain
10
That binds them, pleasant River! to thy side:—
Through the rough copse[GF] wheel thou with hasty stride;
I choose to saunter o'er the grassy plain,
Sure, when the separation has been tried,
That we, who part in love, shall meet again.[GG]

FOOTNOTES:

[GF] "To get from the Sepulchre (Sonnet XXIX.) to Ulpha Kirk (Sonnet XXXI.) it is necessary to pass through Birks Wood, or else to skirt the wood by going up the Fell and round it." (Herbert Rix.)

[GG] Compare the Fenwick note prefixed to these sonnets.—Ed.


XXXI

"THE KIRK OF ULPHA TO THE PILGRIM'S EYE"

The Kirk of Ulpha to the pilgrim's eye
Is welcome as a star, that doth present
Its shining forehead through the peaceful rent
Of a black cloud diffused o'er half the sky:[GH]
5
Or as a fruitful palm-tree towering high
O'er the parched waste beside an Arab's tent;
Or the Indian tree whose branches, downward bent,
Take root again, a boundless canopy.
How sweet were leisure! could it yield no more
10
Than 'mid that wave-washed Church-yard to recline,
From pastoral graves extracting thoughts divine;
Or there to pace, and mark the summits hoar
Of distant moon-lit mountains faintly shine,
Soothed by the unseen River's gentle roar.

FOOTNOTE:

[GH] "Ulpha Kirk is situated on a rock, the base of which is washed by the Duddon. From time immemorial its walls have been whitewashed, so that on a sunny day it literally 'shines' from its exalted position. It is best seen from the hay-fields on the left bank just above Ulpha Bridge. These fields lie low, and the church perched on its rock seems lifted higher than from any other point of view.

When I visited Ulpha in the summer of 1882 I found the carpenters at work restoring it, and since then a new belfry has been erected, and the tiny white porch has been replaced by a larger one of wood. But I saw it in 1881, when the interior, as well as the exterior, still kept the appearance which it wore in Wordsworth's day. The pulpit (with sounding-board) was in the middle of one side, and to the right hand thereof were a magnificent lion-and-unicorn, and 'G. III. R.' The font was up against the wall, with a ladder hung above it. There was no vestry; the surplice was kept in a cupboard near the door, and the clergyman donned and doffed it behind a screen which only partially hid him. The pews were square and high, and the people sat all round them, with their backs to all four points of the compass; but when the hymn was sung they all turned with their backs to the altar and their faces to the choir." (Herbert Rix.)

"The last line of this sonnet is a good instance of Wordsworth's very close observation. The little churchyard has lately had an addition made to it. Any one going into the new part of the churchyard will be less able to understand the accuracy of the last line." (H. D. Rawnsley.)


XXXII

"NOT HURLED PRECIPITOUS FROM STEEP TO STEEP"

Not hurled precipitous from steep to steep;
Lingering no more 'mid flower-enamelled lands
And blooming thickets; nor by rocky bands
Held; but in radiant progress toward the Deep
5
Where mightiest rivers into powerless sleep
Sink, and forget their nature—now expands
Majestic Duddon, over smooth flat sands[GI]
Gliding in silence with unfettered sweep!
Beneath an ampler sky a region wide
Is opened round him:—hamlets, towers, and towns,
11
And blue-topped hills, behold him from afar;
In stately mien to sovereign Thames allied
Spreading his bosom under Kentish downs,
With commerce freighted, or triumphant war.[GJ]

FOOTNOTES:

[GI] Compare Michael Drayton—

But southward sallying hence, to those sea-bordering Lands,
Where Duddon driving down to the Lancastrian Sands,
This Cumberland cuts out, etc.
Poly-olbion. The thirtieth song.—Ed.

[GJ] "This sonnet was probably written from some rare vantage ground or view as is obtained of the last reaches of the Duddon

In radiant progress toward the Deep,

from the crest of a hill immediately above Broughton.

I am led to think thus from the fact that standing there the poet could speak as he does in Sonnet XXXIV.—

For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;

while the little Broughton Church with its dark yews close around it seen at his feet would naturally give birth to the thought that 'the elements must vanish,' and that as Duddon hurried to its pauseless sleep, so man to 'the silent tomb must go.'" (H. D. Rawnsley.)


XXXIII

CONCLUSION

But here no cannon thunders to the gale;
Upon the wave no haughty pendants cast
A crimson splendour: lowly is the mast
That rises here, and humbly spread, the sail;
5
While, less disturbed than in the narrow Vale
Through which with strange vicissitudes he passed,
The Wanderer seeks that receptacle vast
Where all his unambitious functions fail.
And may thy Poet, cloud-born Stream! be free—
10
The sweets of earth contentedly resigned,
And each tumultuous working left behind
At seemly distance—to advance like Thee;
Prepared, in peace of heart, in calm of mind
And soul, to mingle with Eternity![GK]

FOOTNOTE:

[GK] "This series of sonnets follows with some accuracy the order of the scenes. It is far from exact to speak of them, as Mr. Chattock in his preliminary note has so emphatically done, as 'massed together.' With the doubtful exceptions of the sonnets on the 'Stepping-Stones' and the 'Resting-Place,' each one falls naturally into its order. The Birth-place on Wrynose, the 'sinuous lapse' along the pass, the Descent into the Valley, the Cottage at Cockley Beck, Gowdrel Crag, Wallabarrow and the Pen, Seathwaite Chapel, the Tributary Stream, Long Dub, the Sepulchre at New Close, Ulpha Kirk, Duddon Sands—to all these places there are clear allusions; the sonnets which contain those allusions occur in the order indicated, and this order is the strict topographical succession proceeding from the source of the Duddon to the mouth." (Herbert Rix.)


XXXIV

AFTER-THOUGHT

I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
As being past away.—Vain sympathies!
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
5
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;[465][GL]
The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish;—be it so!
10
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.[GM]

VARIANT:

[465] 1820 (1st edition).

1820.
.    .    .    . and shall not cease to glide;
(2nd edition.)
 

The text of 1840 returns to that of the 2nd edition of 1820.


FOOTNOTES:

[GL] Compare The Fountain (vol. ii. p. 92)—

'Twill murmur on a thousand years,
And flow as now it flows.

And Tennyson's Brook,

Men may come and men may go,
Ed.
But I go on for ever.

[GM]

And feel that I am happier than I know.—Milton.[466]

The allusion to the Greek poet will be obvious to the classical reader.—W. W. 1820.

I was indebted to Professor Jebb, in 1883, for the following note:—

"While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
.    .    .    .    .    .    .   .   .
.    .    . must vanish, .    .    .

has been suggested by the well-known lines in the Ἐπιτάφιον Βίωνος, by the pastoral poet Moschus of Syracuse (circ. 200 B.C.):—

αἴ, αἴ, ταὶ μαλάχαι μὲν ἐπὰν κατὰ κᾶπον ὄλωνται,
ἢ τὰ χλωρὰ σέλινα, τό τ' εὐθαλὲς οὖλον ἄνηθον,
ὕστερον αὖ ζώοντι καὶ εἰς ἔτος ἄλλο φύοντι·
ἄμμες δ', οἱ μεγάλοι καὶ καρτεροὶ ἢ σοφοὶ ἄνδρες,
ὁππότε πρᾶτα θάνωμες, ἀνάκοοι ἐν χθονὶ κοίλᾳ
εὕδομες εὖ μάλα μακρὸν ἀτέρμονα νήγρετον ὕπνον.
(Vv. 103-108.)

You will see that Wordsworth has translated the Greek verse which I underline ('brave' representing μεγάλοι). The 'mallows,' 'parsley,' 'anise' of the Greek poet's garden—which are to live again—are represented by Wordsworth's stream which 'shall for ever glide.'

One might contrast the lines in the Christian Year about the autumn leaves:—

How like decaying life they seem to glide!
And yet no second spring have they in store,
But where they fall, forgotten to abide
Is all their portion, and they ask no more."

With this Afterthought compare Virgil, Georgics II. 458, 459—

O fortunatos nimium sua si bona norint
Ed.
Agricolas, etc.

[466] Paradise Lost, book viii. l. 282.—Ed.


POSTSCRIPT

A poet, whose works are not yet known as they deserve to be,[GN] thus enters upon his description of the "Ruins of Rome":

The rising Sun
Flames on the ruins in the purer air
Towering aloft;

and ends thus—

The setting Sun displays
His visible great round, between yon towers,
As through two shady cliffs.

Mr. Crowe, in his excellent loco-descriptive Poem, Lewesdon Hill, is still more expeditious, finishing the whole on a May-morning before breakfast.

To-morrow for severer thought, but now
To breakfast, and keep festival to-day.

No one believes, or is desired to believe, that these Poems were actually composed within such limits of time; nor was there any reason why a prose statement should acquaint the Reader with the plain fact, to the disturbance of poetic credibility. But, in the present case, I am compelled to mention, that the above series of Sonnets was the growth of many years;—the one which stands the 14th was the first produced; and others were added upon occasional visits to the Stream, or as recollections of the scenes upon its banks awakened a wish to describe them. In this manner I had proceeded insensibly, without perceiving that I was trespassing upon ground preoccupied, at least as far as intention went, by Mr. Coleridge; who, more than twenty years ago, used to speak of writing a rural Poem, to be entitled "The Brook," of which he has given a sketch in a recent publication. But a particular subject, cannot, I think, much interfere with a general one; and I have been further kept from encroaching upon any right Mr. C. may still wish to exercise, by the restriction which the frame of the Sonnet imposed upon me, narrowing unavoidably the range of thought, and precluding, though not without its advantages, many graces to which a freer movement of verse would naturally have led.

May I not venture, then, to hope, that instead of being a hindrance, by anticipation of any part of the subject, these Sonnets may remind Mr. Coleridge of his own more comprehensive design, and induce him to fulfil it?[GO]——There is a sympathy in streams,—"one calleth to another"; and, I would gladly believe, that "The Brook" will, ere long, murmur in concert with "The Duddon." But, asking pardon for this fancy, I need not scruple to say, that those verses must indeed be ill-fated which can enter upon such pleasant walks of nature, without receiving and giving inspiration. The power of waters over the minds of Poets has been acknowledged from the earliest ages;—through the "Flumina amem sylvasque inglorius" of Virgil,[GP] down to the sublime apostrophe to the great rivers of the earth, by Armstrong,[GQ] and the simple ejaculation of Burns,[GR] (chosen, if I recollect right, by Mr. Coleridge, as a motto for his embryo "Brook"),