FOOTNOTES:

[402] 1837.

... footstep ... 1827.

[403] Compare The White Doe of Rylstone, canto i. ll. 118, 119 (vol. iv. p. 110)—

Nature, softening and concealing,
And busy with a hand of healing.

This was doubtless Carnarvon Castle, which Wordsworth visited in September 1824, at the close of his three weeks' ramble in North Wales, of which he wrote to Sir George Beaumont, "We employed several hours in exploring the interior of the noble castle, and looking at it from different points of view in the neighbourhood."—Ed.


ELEGIAC STANZAS

(ADDRESSED TO SIR G.H.B. UPON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER-IN-LAW)

1824[404]

Composed 1824.—Published 1827

[On Mrs. Fermor. This lady had been a widow long before I knew her. Her husband was of the family of the lady celebrated in the Rape of the Lock, and was, I believe, a Roman Catholic. The sorrow which his death caused her was fearful in its character as described in this poem, but was subdued in course of time by the strength of her religious faith. I have been for many weeks at a time, an inmate with her at Coleorton Hall, as were also Mrs. Wordsworth and my sister. The truth in the sketch of her character here given was acknowledged with gratitude by her nearest relatives. She was eloquent in conversation, energetic upon public matters, open in respect to those, but slow to communicate her personal feelings; upon these she never touched in her intercourse with me, so that I could not regard myself as her confidential friend, and was accordingly surprised when I learnt she had left me a legacy of £100, as a token of her esteem. See in further illustration the second stanza inscribed upon her cenotaph in Coleorton church.—I.F.]

One of the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces." In 1827 the title was simply, Elegiac Stanzas, 1824, and the title of the group was then, and in 1832, "Epitaphs and Elegiac Poems."—Ed.

O for a dirge! But why complain?
Ask rather a triumphal strain
When Fermor's race is run;
A garland of immortal boughs
To twine[405] around the Christian's brows, 5
Whose glorious work is done.
We pay a high and holy debt;
No tears of passionate regret
Shall stain this votive lay;
Ill-worthy, Beaumont! were the grief 10
That flings itself on wild relief
When Saints have passed away.
Sad doom, at Sorrow's shrine to kneel,
For ever covetous to feel,
And impotent to bear! 15
Such once was hers—to think and think
On severed love, and only sink
From anguish to despair!
But nature to its inmost part
Faith had[406] refined; and to her heart 20
A peaceful cradle given:
Calm as the dew-drop's, free to rest
Within a breeze-fanned rose's breast
Till it exhales to Heaven.
Was ever Spirit that could bend: 25
So graciously?[407]—that could descend,
Another's need to suit,
So promptly from her lofty throne?—
In works of love, in these alone,
How restless, how minute! 30
Pale was her hue; yet mortal cheek[408]
Ne'er kindled with a livelier streak
When aught had suffered wrong,—
When aught that breathes had felt a wound;
Such look the Oppressor might confound, 35
However proud and strong.
But hushed be every thought that springs
From out the bitterness of things;
Her quiet is secure;
No thorns can pierce her tender feet, 40
Whose life was, like the violet, sweet,
As climbing jasmine, pure—
As snowdrop on an infant's grave,
Or lily heaving with the wave
That feeds it and defends; 45
As Vesper, ere the star hath kissed
The mountain top, or breathed the mist
That from the vale ascends.
Thou takest not away, O Death!
Thou strikest[409]—absence perisheth, 50
Indifference is no more;
The future brightens on our sight;
For on the past hath fallen a light
That tempts us to adore.

In a letter from Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont, dated "Rydal Mount, Feb. 25, 1825," she says:—

"We are all much moved by the manner in which Miss Willes has received the verses,—particularly Wm., who feels himself more than rewarded for the labour I cannot call it of the composition—for the tribute was poured forth with a deep stream of fervour that was something beyond labour, and it has required very little correction. In one instance a single word in the 'Address to Sir George' is changed since we sent the copy, viz.: 'graciously' for 'courteously,' as being a word of more dignity."

The following inscription was "copied from the Churchyard of Claines, Sept. 14, 1826," by Dorothy Wordsworth, in a MS. book, containing numerous epitaphs on tombstones, and inscriptions on rural monuments in Cathedrals and Churches, in various parts of the country.

Sacred
To the memory of Frances Fermor,
Relict of Henry Fermor, Esqre.,
Of Fritwell, in the County of Oxford,
And eldest Daughter of the late
John Willes, Esqre., of Astrop, in the county
Of Northamptonshire, who departed this life,
Dec. 5th, 1824, aged 68 years.
I am the way, the truth, and
The life. Whoso cometh to me
I will in no wise cast out.—Ed.

FOOTNOTES:

[404] 1837.


Elegiac Stanzas, 1824. 1827.

[405] 1845.

To bind ... 1827.

[406] 1837.

Had Faith ... 1827.

[407] 1827.

So courteously ...

In a MS. copy sent to Coleorton.

[408] 1827.

Pale was her hue, but mortal cheek

In MS. from Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont.

[409] 1840.

Thou strik'st—and ... 1827.

CENOTAPH

In affectionate remembrance of Frances Fermor, whose remains are deposited in the church of Claines, near Worcester, this stone is erected by her sister, Dame Margaret, wife of Sir George Beaumont, Bart., who, feeling not less than the love of a brother for the deceased, commends this memorial to the care of his heirs and successors in the possession of this place.

Composed 1824.—Published 1842

[See "Elegiac Stanzas. (Addressed to Sir G.H.B., upon the death of his sister-in-law.)"—I.F.]

One of the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."—Ed.

By vain affections unenthralled,
Though resolute when duty called
To meet the world's broad eye,
Pure as the holiest cloistered nun
That ever feared the tempting sun, 5
Did Fermor live and die.
This Tablet, hallowed by her name,[410]
One heart-relieving tear may claim;
But if the pensive gloom
Of fond regret be still thy choice, 10
Exalt thy spirit, hear the voice
Of Jesus from her tomb!

"I am the way, the truth, and the life."

In the letter to Lady Beaumont, referred to in the notes, the title of this poem is "Inscription in the Church of Coleorton," and a footnote is added, "Say, to the left of the vista, within the thicket, below the churchyard wall.—M. W."

Mrs. Wordsworth also says, "To fit the lines, intended for an urn, for a Monument, W. has altered the closing stanza, which (though they are not what he would have produced had he first cast them with a view to the Church) he hopes you will not disapprove."—Ed.

FOOTNOTES:

[410] 1842.

This cenotaph that bears her name,

MS. Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont.

This sacred stone that bears her name,

MS. Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont.


1825

Three Poems were written in 1825, The Pillar of Trajan, The Contrast: The Parrot and the Wren, and the lines To a Skylark.—Ed.


THE PILLAR OF TRAJAN

Composed 1825.—Published 1827

[These verses perhaps had better be transferred to the class of "Italian Poems." I had observed in the newspaper, that the Pillar of Trajan was given as a subject for a prize-poem in English verse. I had a wish perhaps that my son, who was then an undergraduate at Oxford, should try his fortune, and I told him so; but he, not having been accustomed to write verse, wisely declined to enter on the task; whereupon I showed him these lines as a proof of what might, without difficulty, be done on such a subject.—I.F.]

From 1827 to 1842 one of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection"; in 1845 one of the "Memorials of a Tour in Italy."—Ed.

Where towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds
O'er mutilated arches shed their seeds;
And temples, doomed to milder change, unfold
A new magnificence that vies with old;
Firm in its pristine majesty hath stood 5
A votive Column, spared by fire and flood:—
And, though the passions of man's fretful race
Have never ceased to eddy round its base,
Not injured more by touch of meddling hands
Than a lone obelisk, 'mid Nubian sands, 10
Or aught in Syrian deserts left to save
From death the memory of the good and brave.
Historic figures round the shaft embost
Ascend, with lineaments in air not lost:
Still as he turns, the charmed spectator sees 15
Group winding after group with dream-like ease;
Triumphs in sunbright gratitude displayed,[411]
Or softly stealing into modest shade.
—So, pleased with purple clusters to entwine
Some lofty elm-tree, mounts the daring vine; 20
The woodbine so, with spiral grace, and breathes
Wide-spreading odours from her flowery wreaths.
Borne by the Muse from rills in shepherds' ears
Murmuring but one smooth story for all years,
I gladly commune with the mind and heart 25
Of him who thus survives by classic art,
His actions witness, venerate his mien,
And study Trajan as by Pliny seen;
Behold how fought the Chief whose conquering sword
Stretched far as earth might own a single lord; 30
In the delight of moral prudence schooled,
How feelingly at home the Sovereign ruled;
Best of the good—in pagan faith allied
To more than Man, by virtue deified.
Memorial Pillar! 'mid the wrecks of Time 35
Preserve thy charge with confidence sublime—
The exultations, pomps, and cares of Rome,
Whence half the breathing world received its doom;
Things that recoil from language; that, if shown
By apter pencil, from the light had flown. 40
A Pontiff, Trajan here the Gods implores,
There greets an Embassy from Indian shores;
Lo! he harangues his cohorts—there the storm
Of battle meets him in authentic form!
Unharnessed, naked, troops of Moorish horse 45
Sweep to the charge;[412] more high, the Dacian force,
To hoof and finger mailed;[413]—yet, high or low,
None bleed, and none lie prostrate but the foe;[414]
In every Roman, through all turns of fate,
Is Roman dignity inviolate; 50
Spirit in him pre-eminent, who guides,[415]
Supports, adorns, and over all presides;
Distinguished only by inherent state
From honoured Instruments that round him wait;[416]
Rise as he may, his grandeur scorns the test 55
Of outward symbol, nor will deign to rest
On aught by which another is deprest.
—Alas! that One thus disciplined could toil
To enslave whole nations on their native soil;
So emulous of Macedonian fame, 60
That, when his age was measured with his aim,
He drooped, 'mid else unclouded victories,
And turned his eagles back with deep-drawn sighs.
O weakness of the Great! O folly of the Wise!
Where now the haughty Empire that was spread 65
With such fond hope? her very speech is dead;
Yet glorious Art the power of Time defies,
And Trajan still, through various enterprise,
Mounts, in this fine illusion, toward the skies:
Still are we present with the imperial Chief, 70
Nor cease to gaze upon the bold Relief
Till Rome, to silent marble unconfined,
Becomes with all her years a vision of the Mind.

Trajan's Column was set up by the Senate and people of Rome, in honour of the Emperor, about A.D. 114. It is one of the most remarkable pillars in the world; and still stands, little injured by time, in the centre of the Forum Trajanum (now a ruin); its height—132 feet—marking the height of the earth removed when the Forum was made. On the pedestal bas-reliefs were carved in series showing the arms and armour of the Romans; and round the shaft of the column similar reliefs, exhibiting pictorially the whole story of the Decian campaign of the Emperor. These are of great value as illustrating the history of the period, the costume of the Roman soldiers and the barbarians. A colossal statue of Trajan crowned the column; and, when it fell, Pope Sixtus V. replaced it by a figure of St. Peter. It is referred to by Pausanias (v. 12. 6), and by all the ancient topographers. See a minute account of it, with excellent illustrations, in Hertzberg's Geschichte des Römischen Kaiserreiches, pp. 330-345 (Berlin: 1880); also Müller's Denkmäler der alten Kunst, p. 51. The book, however, from which Wordsworth gained his information of this pillar was evidently Joseph Forsyth's Remarks on Antiquities, Arts, and Letters, during an Excursion in Italy in 1802-3 (London: 1813). It is thus that Dean Merivale speaks of it:—

"Amid this profusion of splendour" (i.e. in the Forum Trajanum) "the great object to which the eye was principally directed was the column, which rose majestically in the centre of the forum to the height of 126 feet, sculptured from the base of the shaft to the summit with the story of the Decian wars, shining in every volute and moulding, with gold and pigments, and crowned with the colossal effigy of the august conqueror.... The proportions of the Trajan column are peculiarly graceful; the compact masses of stone, nineteen in number, of which the whole shaft is composed, may lead us to admire the skill employed in its construction; but the most interesting feature of this historic monument is the spiral band of figures which throughout enriches it. To the subjects of Trajan himself, this record of his exploits in bold relief must have given a vivid and sufficient idea of the people, the places, and the actions indicated; even to us, after so many centuries, they furnish a correct type of the arms, the arts, and the costume both of the Romans and barbarians which we should vainly seek for elsewhere. The Trajan column forms a notable chapter in the pictorial history of Rome." (History of the Romans under the Empire, vol. viii. pp. 46, 47.)

In the Fenwick note, Wordsworth mentions that, what gave rise to this poem was, his observing in the newspapers that "the Pillar of Trajan" was prescribed as a subject for a prize poem at Oxford. This determines the date of composition. The Pillar of Trajan was the Newdigate prize poem, won by W. W. Tireman, Wadham Coll., in 1826. We may therefore assume that the subject was proposed about the summer of 1825.—Ed.

FOOTNOTES:

[411] As Wordsworth says, in his note of 1827, "See Forsyth," it may be interesting to add Forsyth's account of the Pillar, in footnotes. "Trajan's Column, considered as a long historical record to be read round and round a long convex surface, made perspective impossible. Every perspective has one fixed point of view, but here are ten thousand. The eye, like the relievos of the column, must describe a spiral round them, widening over the whole piazza. Hence, to be legible the figures must be lengthened as they rise. This licence is necessary here; but in architecture it may be contested against Vitruvius himself." (Forsyth's Remarks on Antiquities, Arts, and Letters, during an Excursion in Italy in 1802-3, pp. 250, 251.)—Ed.

[412] "In detailing the two wars, this column sets each nation in contrast: here the Moorish horse, all naked and unharnessed" (Forsyth's Remarks, etc., p. 251.)—Ed.

[413] See Forsyth.—W. W. 1827.

"There the Taranatians, in complete mail down to the fingers and the hoofs. It exhibits without embellishment all the tactics of that age, and forms grand commentary on Vegetius and Frontinus." (Remarks, etc., p. 252.)—Ed.

[414] "How unlike the modern relievos, where dress appears in all its distinctions, and prostration in all its angles! none kneel here but priests and captives; no Roman appears in a fallen state: none are wounded or slain but the foe.

"No monument gives the complete and real costume of its kind so correctly as this column.... On this column we can see parts of the subarmalia; we can see real drawers falling down to the officers' legs; and some figures have focalia, like invalids, round the neck." (Remarks, etc., p. 251-2.)—Ed.

[415] "This column is an immense field of antiquities, where the emperor appears in a hundred different points, as sovereign, as general, as priest." (Remarks, etc., p. 251.)—Ed.

[416] "His dignity he derives from himself or his duties; not from the trappings of power, for he is dressed like any of his officers, not from the debasement of others, for the Romans stand bold and erect before him." (Remarks, etc., p. 251.)—Ed.


THE CONTRAST
The Parrot and the Wren[417]

Composed 1825.—Published 1827

[The Parrot belonged to Mrs. Luff while living at Fox-Ghyll. The Wren was one that haunted for many years the summerhouse between the two terraces at Rydal Mount.—I. F.]

One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.

I

Within her gilded cage confined,
I saw a dazzling Belle,
A Parrot of that famous kind
Whose name is Non-pareil.
Like beads of glossy jet her eyes; 5
And, smoothed by Nature's skill,
With pearl or gleaming agate vies
Her finely-curvèd bill.
Her plumy mantle's living hues
In mass opposed to mass, 10
Outshine the splendour that imbues
The robes of pictured glass.
And, sooth to say, an apter Mate
Did never tempt the choice
Of feathered Thing most delicate 15
In figure and in voice.
But, exiled from Australian bowers,
And singleness her lot,
She trills her song with tutored powers,
Or mocks each casual note. 20
No more of pity for regrets
With which she may have striven!
Now but in wantonness she frets,
Or spite, if cause be given;
Arch, volatile, a sportive bird 25
By social glee inspired;
Ambitious to be seen or heard
And pleased to be admired!

II

This Moss-Lined shed, green, soft, and dry,
Harbours a self-contented Wren, 30
Not shunning man's abode, though shy,
Almost as thought itself, of human ken.
Strange places, coverts unendeared,
She never tried; the very nest
In which this Child of Spring was reared, 35
Is warmed, thro' winter, by her feathery breast.
To the bleak winds she sometimes gives
A slender unexpected strain;
Proof that[418] the hermitess still lives,
Though she appear not, and be sought in vain. 40
Say, Dora! tell me, by yon placid moon,
If called to choose between the favoured pair,
Which would you be,—the bird of the saloon,
By lady-fingers tended with nice care,
Caressed, applauded, upon dainties fed, 45
Or Nature's Darkling of this mossy shed?

The "moss-lined shed, green, soft, and dry," still remains at Rydal Mount, as it was in the poet's time.—Ed.

FOOTNOTES:

[417] 1832.

The Contrast. 1827.

[418] 1836.

That tells ... 1827.

TO A SKY-LARK

Composed 1825.—Published 1827

[Written at Rydal Mount, where there are no skylarks, but the Poet is everywhere.—I. F.]

One of the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or, while the[419] wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, 5
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!

[420]

Leave to the nightingale her[421] shady wood;
A privacy of glorious light is thine;
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with instinct[422] more divine; 10
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam;
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!

Compare this with the earlier poem To a Skylark, written in 1805, and both poems with Shelley's still finer lyric to the same bird, written in 1820. See also the Morning Exercise (1828), stanzas v.-x. The eighth stanza of that poem was, from 1827 to 1842, the second stanza of this one. The poem was published in the Poetical Album, for 1829, edited by Alaric Watts, vol. ii. p. 30.—Ed.

FOOTNOTES:

[419] 1827.

... thy ...


Poetical Album, 1829.

[420] The following second stanza occurs only in the editions 1827-43—

To the last point of vision, and beyond,
Mount, daring Warbler! that love-prompted strain,
('Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond)
Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain:
Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing
All independent of the leafy spring.

[421] 1827.

... the ...


Poetical Album, 1829.

[422] 1832.

... rapture ... 1827.

1826

The poems composed in 1826 were six. They include two referring to the month of May, and two descriptive of places near Rydal Mount.—Ed.


"ERE WITH COLD BEADS OF MIDNIGHT DEW"

Composed 1826.—Published 1827

[Written at Rydal Mount. Suggested by the condition of a friend.—I. F.]

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

Ere with cold beads of midnight dew
Had mingled tears of thine,
I grieved, fond Youth! that thou shouldst sue
To haughty Geraldine.
Immoveable by generous sighs, 5
She glories in a train
Who drag, beneath our native skies,
An oriental chain.
Pine not like them with arms across,
Forgetting in thy care 10
How the fast-rooted trees can toss
Their branches in mid air.
The humblest rivulet will take
Its own wild liberties;
And, every day, the imprisoned lake 15
Is flowing in the breeze.
Then, crouch no more on suppliant knee,
But scorn with scorn outbrave;
A Briton, even in love, should be
A subject, not a slave! 20

ODE
Composed on May Morning

Composed 1826.—Published 1835

[This and the following poem originated in the lines, "How delicate the leafy veil," etc. My daughter and I left Rydal Mount upon a tour through our mountains, with Mr. and Mrs. Carr,[423] in the month of May, 1826, and as we were going up the Vale of Newlands I was struck with the appearance of the little chapel gleaming through the veil of half-opened leaves; and the feeling which was then conveyed to my mind was expressed in the stanza referred to above. As in the case of Liberty and Humanity, my first intention was to write only one poem, but subsequently I broke it into two, making additions to each part so as to produce a consistent and appropriate whole.—I. F.]

In 1835, included in the Poems on Yarrow Revisited, etc. In 1837, one of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."—Ed.

While from the purpling east departs
The star that led the dawn,
Blithe Flora from her couch upstarts,
For May is on the lawn,[424]
A quickening hope, a freshening glee, 5
Foreran the expected Power,
Whose first-drawn breath, from bush and tree,
Shakes off that pearly shower.
All Nature welcomes Her whose sway
Tempers the year's extremes; 10
Who scattereth lustres o'er noon-day,
Like morning's dewy gleams;
While mellow warble, sprightly trill,
The tremulous heart excite;
And hums the balmy air to still 15
The balance of delight.
Time was, blest Power! when youths and maids
At peep of dawn would rise,
And wander forth in forest glades
Thy birth to solemnize. 20
Though mute the song—to grace the rite
Untouched the hawthorn bough,
Thy Spirit triumphs o'er the slight;
Man changes, but not Thou!
Thy feathered Lieges bill and wings 25
In love's disport employ;
Warmed by thy influence, creeping things
Awake to silent joy:
Queen art thou still for each gay plant
Where the slim wild deer roves; 30
And served in depths where fishes haunt
Their own mysterious groves.
Cloud-piercing peak, and trackless heath,
Instinctive homage pay;
Nor wants the dim-lit cave a wreath 35
To honour thee, sweet May!
Where cities fanned by thy brisk airs
Behold a smokeless sky,
Their puniest flower-pot-nursling dares
To open a bright eye. 40
And if, on this thy natal morn,
The pole, from which thy name
Hath not departed, stands forlorn
Of song and dance and game;
Still from the village-green a vow 45
Aspires to thee addrest,
Wherever peace is on the brow,
Or love within the breast.
Yes! where Love nestles thou canst teach
The soul to love the more; 50
Hearts also shall thy lessons reach
That never loved before.
Stript is the haughty one of pride,
The bashful freed from fear,
While rising, like the ocean-tide, 55
In flows the joyous year.
Hush, feeble lyre! weak words refuse
The service to prolong!
To yon exulting thrush the Muse
Entrusts the imperfect song; 60
His voice shall chant, in accents clear,
Throughout the live-long day,
Till the first silver star appear,
The sovereignty of May.