A pen—to register; a key—
 That winds through secret wards;
 Are well assigned to Memory
 By allegoric Bards.
As aptly, also, might be given 5
 A Pencil to her hand;
 That, softening objects, sometimes even
 Outstrips the heart's demand;
That smooths foregone distress, the lines
 Of lingering care subdues, 10
 Long-vanished happiness refines,
 And clothes in brighter hues;
Yet, like a tool of Fancy, works
 Those Spectres to dilate
 That startle Conscience, as she lurks 15
 Within her lonely seat.
O! that our lives, which flee so fast,
 In purity were such,
 That not an image of the past
 Should fear that pencil's touch! 20
Retirement then might hourly look
 Upon a soothing scene,
 Age steal to his allotted nook
 Contented and serene;
With heart as calm as lakes that sleep, 25
 In frosty moonlight glistening;
 Or mountain rivers, where they creep
 Along a channel smooth and deep,
 To their own far-off murmurs listening.

"NOT LOVE, NOT WAR, NOR THE TUMULTUOUS SWELL"

Composed 1823.—Published 1827

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.

Not Love, not[366] War, nor the tumultuous swell
 Of civil conflict, nor the wrecks of change,
 Nor[367] Duty struggling with afflictions strange—
 Not these alone inspire the tuneful shell;
 But where untroubled peace and concord dwell, 5
 There also is the Muse not loth to range,
 Watching the twilight smoke of cot or grange,[368]
 Skyward ascending from a woody dell.[369][370]
 Meek aspirations please her, lone endeavour,
 And sage content, and placid melancholy; 10
 She loves to gaze upon a crystal river—
 Diaphanous because it travels slowly;[371]
 Soft is the music that would charm for ever;[372]
 The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.

FOOTNOTES:

[366] 1832.

... nor ... 1823.

[367] 1827.

And ... 1823.[373]

[368] 1837.

Watching the blue smoke of the elmy grange, 1823.

[369] 1837.

... from the twilight dell, 1823.

[370] Compare Tintern Abbey, II. 17, 18.—Ed.

[371] e. g. The Rothay, or the Duddon.—Ed.

[372] 1827.

... please for ever, 1823.

[373] See the same reading in The Poetical Album, 1829, vol. i. p. 43, edited by Alaric Watts.—Ed.

"A VOLANT TRIBE OF BARDS ON EARTH ARE FOUND"

Composed 1823.—Published 1827

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.

A volant Tribe of Bards on earth are found,
 Who, while the flattering Zephyrs round them play,
 On "coignes of vantage"[374] hang their nests of clay;
 How quickly from that aery hold unbound,
 Dust for oblivion! To the solid ground 5
 Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye;
 Convinced that there, there only, she can lay
 Secure foundations. As the year runs round,
 Apart she toils within the chosen ring;
 While the stars shine,[375] or while day's purple eye 10
 Is gently closing with the flowers of spring;
 Where even the motion of an Angel's wing
 Would interrupt the intense tranquillity
 Of silent hills, and more than silent sky.[376]

FOOTNOTES:

[374] Macbeth, act I. scene vi. l. 7.—Ed.

[375] 1827.

... nests of clay,
 Work cunningly devised, and seeming sound;
 But quickly from its airy hold unbound
 By its own weight, or washed, or blown away
 With silent imperceptible decay.
 If man must build, admit him to thy ground,
 O Truth! to work within the eternal ring,
 Where the stars shine, ... 1823.

[376] Compare Alexander Hume's Day's Estival (1599). This and the preceding sonnet were first published in 1823 in A Collection of Poems, chiefly manuscript, and from living authors, edited for the benefit of a Friend, by Joanna Baillie. The collection includes Sir Walter Scott's Macduff's Cross, and Southey's The Cataract of Lodore.—Ed.

1824

The poems written in 1824 were few. They include two addressed to Mrs. Wordsworth, two or three composed at Coleorton, and a couple of memorial sonnets suggested during a tour in North Wales.—Ed.

TO ——

Composed 1824.—Published 1827

[Written at Rydal Mount. On Mrs. Wordsworth.—I.F.]

One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."—Ed.

Let other bards of angels sing,
 Bright suns without a spot;
 But thou art no such perfect thing:
 Rejoice that thou art not!
 [377]
Heed not tho' none should call thee fair;[378] 5
 So, Mary, let it be
 If nought in loveliness compare
 With what thou art to me.
True beauty dwells in deep retreats,
 Whose veil is unremoved 10
 Till heart with heart in concord beats,
 And the lover is beloved.

FOOTNOTES:

[377]

Such if thou wert in all men's view,
 A universal show,
 What would my Fancy have to do,
 My Feelings to bestow?

A second (additional) stanza in the editions of 1827-43.

[378] 1832.

The world denies that Thou art fair; 1827.

TO ——

Composed 1824.—Published 1827

[Written at Rydal Mount. To Mrs. W.—I. F.]

One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."—Ed.

O dearer far than light and life are dear,
 Full oft our human foresight I deplore;
 Trembling, through my unworthiness, with fear
 That friends, by death disjoined, may meet no more!
Misgivings, hard to vanquish or control, 5
 Mix with the day, and cross the hour of rest;
 While all the future, for thy purer soul,
 With "sober certainties" of love is blest.[379]
That sigh of thine,[380] not meant for human ear,
 Tells[381] that these words thy humbleness offend; 10
 Yet bear me up[382]—else faltering in the rear
 Of a steep march: support[383] me to the end.
Peace settles where the intellect is meek,
 And Love is dutiful in thought and deed;
 Through Thee communion with that Love I seek: 15
 The faith Heaven strengthens where he moulds the Creed.

FOOTNOTES:

[379] See Comus, l. 263.—Ed.

[380] 1836.

If a faint sigh, ... 1827.

[381] 1836.

Tell ... 1827.

[382] 1836.

Cherish me still— ... 1827.

[383] 1836.

... uphold ... 1827.

"HOW RICH THAT FOREHEAD'S CALM EXPANSE!"

Composed 1824.—Published 1827

[Written at Rydal Mount. Mrs. Wordsworth's impression is that the Poem was written at Coleorton: it was certainly suggested by a Print at Coleorton Hall.—I. F.]

One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."—Ed.

How rich that forehead's calm expanse!
 How bright that heaven-directed glance!
 —Waft her to glory, wingèd Powers,
 Ere sorrow be renewed,
 And intercourse with mortal hours 5
 Bring back a humbler mood!
 So looked Cecilia when she drew
 An Angel from his station;[384]
 So looked; not ceasing to pursue
 Her tuneful adoration! 10
But hand and voice alike are still;
 No sound here sweeps away the will
 That gave it birth: in service meek
 One upright arm sustains the cheek,
 And one across the bosom lies— 15
 That rose, and now forgets to rise,
 Subdued by breathless harmonies
 Of meditative feeling;
 Mute strains from worlds beyond the skies,
 Through the pure light of female eyes, 20
 Their sanctity revealing!

FOOTNOTES:

[384] Compare Dryden's Alexander's Feast, an Ode in honour of St. Cecilia's Day—

Timotheus. He raised a mortal to the skies.

Cecilia. She drew an angel down.—Ed.

TO ——

Composed 1824.—Published 1827

[Written at Rydal Mount. Prompted by the undue importance attached to personal beauty by some dear friends of mine.—I. F.]

One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."—Ed.

Look at the fate of summer flowers,
 Which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song;[385]
 And, grieved for their brief date, confess that ours,
 Measured by what we are and ought to be,
 Measured by all that, trembling, we foresee, 5
 Is not so long!
If human Life do pass away,
 Perishing yet more swiftly than the flower,
 If we are creatures of a winter's day;[386]
 What space hath Virgin's beauty to disclose 10
 Her sweets, and triumph o'er the breathing rose?
 Not even an hour!
The deepest grove whose foliage hid
 The happiest lovers Arcady might boast
 Could not the entrance of this thought forbid: 15
 O be thou wise as they, soul-gifted Maid!
 Nor rate too high what must so quickly fade,
 So soon be lost.
Then shall love teach some virtuous Youth
 "To draw, out of the object of his eyes,"[387] 20
 The while[388] on thee they gaze in simple truth,
 Hues more exalted, "a refinèd Form,"
 That dreads not age, nor suffers from the worm,
 And never dies.

FOOTNOTES:

[385] Compare Robert Herrick's poem To Daffodils—

Fair daffodils, we weep to see
 You haste away so soon;
 As yet the early rising sun
 Has not attain'd his noon.
 Stay, stay,
 Until the hasting day
 Has run
 But to the even-song, etc.

See also his poem To Blossoms.—Ed.

[386] 1836.

Whose frail existence is but of a day; 1827.

[387] Compare Lyly's Endymion, v. 3—

To have him in the object of mine eyes.—Ed.

[388] 1836.

The whilst ... 1827.

A FLOWER GARDEN,
At Coleorton Hall, Leicestershire[389]

Composed 1824.—Published 1827

[Planned by my friend, Lady Beaumont, in connection with the garden at Coleorton.—I. F.]

One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.

Tell me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold,
 While fluttering o'er this gay Recess,[390]
 Pinions that fanned the teeming mould
 Of Eden's blissful wilderness,
 Did only softly-stealing hours 5
 There close the peaceful lives of flowers?
Say, when the moving creatures saw
 All kinds commingled without fear,
 Prevailed a like indulgent law
 For the still growths that prosper here? 10
 Did wanton fawn and kid forbear
 The half-blown rose, the lily spare?
Or peeped they often from their beds
 And prematurely disappeared,
 Devoured like pleasure ere it spreads 15
 A bosom to the sun endeared?
 If such their harsh untimely doom,
 It falls not here on bud or bloom.
All summer-long the happy Eve
 Of this fair Spot her flowers may bind, 20
 Nor e'er, with ruffled fancy, grieve,
 From the next glance she casts, to find
 That love for little things by Fate
 Is rendered vain as love for great.
Yet, where the guardian fence is wound, 25
 So subtly are our eyes beguiled
 We see not nor suspect a bound,[391]
 No more than in some forest wild;
 The sight is free as air—or crost[392]
 Only by art in nature lost. 30
And, though[393] the jealous turf refuse
 By random footsteps to be prest,
 And feed[394] on never-sullied dews,
 Ye, gentle breezes from the west,
 With all the ministers of hope 35
 Are tempted to this sunny slope!
And hither throngs of birds resort;
 Some, inmates lodged in shady nests,
 Some, perched on stems of stately port
 That nod to welcome transient guests; 40
 While hare and leveret, seen at play,
 Appear not more shut out than they.
Apt emblem (for reproof of pride)
 This delicate Enclosure shows
 Of modest kindness, that would hide 45
 The firm protection she bestows;
 Of manners, like its viewless fence,
 Ensuring peace to innocence.
Thus spake the moral Muse—her wing
 Abruptly spreading to depart, 50
 She left that[395] farewell offering,
 Memento for some docile heart;
 That may respect the good old age
 When Fancy was Truth's willing Page;
 And Truth would skim the flowery glade, 55
 Though entering but as Fancy's Shade.

In a letter from Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont, dated "Rydal Mount, Feb. 28" (1824), the following occurs:—

"This garden is made out of Lady Caroline Price's, and your own, combining the recommendations of both. Like you, I enjoy the beauty of flowers, but do not carry my admiration so far as my sister, not to feel how very troublesome they are. I have more pleasure in clearing away thickets, and making such arrangements as produced the Winter Garden, and those sweet glades behind Coleorton Church."—Ed.

FOOTNOTES:

[389] 1836.

A Flower Garden. 1827.

[390] The flower garden was constructed below the terrace to the east of the Hall.—Ed.

[391] 1836.

So subtly is the eye beguiled
 It sees not nor suspects a Bound, 1827.


MS. sent by Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont.

[392] 1836.

Free as the light in semblance—crost. 1827.


MS. sent by Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont.

[393] 1827.

What though ...


MS. sent by Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont.

[394] 1836.

And feeds ... 1827.

[395] 1827.

... this ...


MS. sent by Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont.

TO THE LADY E. B. AND THE HON. MISS P.

Composed in the Grounds of Plass Newidd,[396] near Llangollen, 1824.

Composed 1824.—Published 1827

[In this Vale of Meditation my friend Jones resided, having been allowed by his diocesan to fix himself there without resigning his Living in Oxfordshire. He was with my wife and daughter and me when we visited these celebrated ladies who had retired, as one may say, into notice in this vale. Their cottage lay directly in the road between London and Dublin, and they were of course visited by their Irish friends as well as innumerable strangers. They took much delight in passing jokes on our friend Jones's plumpness, ruddy cheeks and smiling countenance, as little suited to a hermit living in the Vale of Meditation. We all thought there was ample room for retort on his part, so curious was the appearance of these ladies, so elaborately sentimental about themselves and their Caro Albergo as they named it in an inscription on a tree that stood opposite, the endearing epithet being preceded by the word Ecco! calling upon the saunterer to look about him. So oddly was one of these ladies attired that we took her, at a little distance, for a Roman Catholic priest, with a crucifix and relics hung at his neck. They were without caps, their hair bushy and white as snow, which contributed to the mistake.—I. F.]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.

A Stream, to mingle with your favourite Dee,
 Along the Vale of Meditation[397] flows;
 So styled by those fierce Britons, pleased to see
 In Nature's face the expression of repose;
 Or haply there some pious hermit chose 5
 To live and die, the peace of heaven his aim;
 To whom the wild sequestered region owes,
 At this late day, its sanctifying name.
 Glyn Cafaillgaroch, in the Cambrian tongue,
 In ours, the Vale of Friendship, let this spot 10
 Be named; where, faithful to a low-roofed Cot,
 On Deva's banks, ye have abode so long;
 Sisters in love, a love allowed to climb,
 Even on this earth, above the reach of Time!

FOOTNOTES:

[396] Plass Newidd is close to Llangollen, a small cottage a quarter of a mile to the south of the town. The ladies referred to in the Fenwick note, Lady Eleanor Butler and the Hon. Miss Ponsonby, formed a romantic attachment; and, having an extreme love of independence, they withdrew from society, and settled in this remote and secluded cottage. Lady Butler died in 1829, aged ninety, and Miss Ponsonby in 1831, aged seventy-six, their faithful servant, Mary Caroll, having predeceased them. The three are buried in the same grave in Llangollen Churchyard, and an inscription to the memory of each is carved on a triangular pillar beside their tomb.

In a letter to Sir George Beaumont from Hindwell, Radnorshire, Wordsworth gives an account of this tour in North Wales.... "We turned from the high-road three or four miles to visit the 'Valley of Meditation' (Glyn Myvyr), where Mr. Jones has, at present, a curacy with a comfortable parsonage. We slept at Corwen, and went down the Dee to Llangollen, which you and dear Lady B. know well. Called upon the celebrated Recluses, who hoped that you and Lady B. had not forgotten them.... Next day I sent them the following sonnet from Ruthin, which was conceived, and in a great measure composed, in their grounds." Compare Sir Walter Scott's account of his visit to these Ladies in 1825 (Lockhart's Life of Scott, vol. viii. pp. 48, 49).—Ed.

[397] Glyn Myvyr.—W. W. The word is misspelt in most of the editions.—Ed.

TO THE TORRENT AT THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE,[398] NORTH WALES, 1824

Composed 1824.—Published 1827

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.

How art thou named? In search of what strange land,
 From what huge height, descending? Can such force
 Of waters issue from a British source,[399]
 Or hath not Pindus fed thee,[400] where the band
 Of Patriots scoop their freedom out, with hand 5
 Desperate as thine? Or come the incessant shocks
 From that young Stream,[401] that smites the throbbing rocks
 Of Viamala? There I seem to stand,
 As in life's morn; permitted to behold,
 From the dread chasm, woods climbing above woods, 10
 In pomp that fades not; everlasting snows;
 And skies that ne'er relinquish their repose;
 Such power possess the family of floods
 Over the minds of Poets, young or old!

FOOTNOTES:

[398] The Devil's Bridge in North Wales is at Hafod, near Aberystwyth, in Cardiganshire. Like the Teufelsbrücke, on the road from Göschenen to Airola, over the St. Gotthard in Switzerland, which spans the Reuss, the Devil's Bridge in Wales is double; i.e. an upper and an under bridge span the river Mynach. This Pont-y-Mynach was built either by the monks of Strata Florida, or by the Knights Hospitallers.

In the letter to Sir George Beaumont, referred to in a previous note, Wordsworth writes: "We went up the Rhydiol to the Devil's Bridge, where we passed the following day in exploring these two rivers, and Hafod in the neighbourhood. I had seen these things long ago, but either my memory or my powers of observation had not done them justice. It rained heavily in the night, and we saw the waterfalls in perfection. While Dora was attempting to make a sketch from the chasm in the rain, I composed by her side the following address to the torrent,

How art thou named? etc."—Ed.

[399] There are several consecutive falls on the river Mynach, at the Devil's Bridge, the longest being one of 114 feet, and the whole taken together amounting to 314 feet.—Ed.

[400] The lofty ridge of mountains in northern Greece between Thessaly and Epirus, which, like the Apennines in Italy, form the back-bone of the country.—Ed.

[401] The Rhine. The Via Mala is the gorge between Thusis and Zillis, near the source of the Rhine. Compare Descriptive Sketches (vol. i. p. 46)—

Or, led where Via Mala's chasms confine
 The indignant waters of the infant Rhine.—Ed.

COMPOSED AMONG THE RUINS OF A CASTLE IN NORTH WALES

Composed 1824.—Published 1827

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.

Through shattered galleries, 'mid roofless halls,
 Wandering with timid footsteps[402] oft betrayed,
 The Stranger sighs, nor scruples to upbraid
 Old Time, though he, gentlest among the Thralls
 Of Destiny, upon these wounds hath laid 5
 His lenient touches, soft as light that falls,
 From the wan Moon, upon the towers and walls,
 Light deepening the profoundest sleep of shade.
 Relic of Kings! Wreck of forgotten wars,
 To winds abandoned and the prying stars, 10
 Time loves Thee! at his call the Seasons twine
 Luxuriant wreaths around thy forehead hoar;
 And, though past pomp no changes can restore,
 A soothing recompense, his gift, is thine![403]