We have not passed into a doleful City,
We who were led to-day down a grim dell,
By some too boldly named "the Jaws of Hell:"[930]
Where be the wretched ones, the sights for pity?
These crowded streets resound no plaintive ditty:— 5
As from the hive where bees in summer dwell,
Sorrow seems here excluded; and that knell,
It neither damps the gay, nor checks the witty.
Alas! too busy Rival of old Tyre,[931]
Whose merchants Princes were, whose decks were thrones;
Soon may the punctual sea in vain respire 11
To serve thy need, in union with that Clyde
Whose nursling current brawls o'er mossy stones,[932]
The poor, the lonely, herdsman's joy and pride.

FOOTNOTES:

[929] See Dante, Inferno, iii. I.—Ed.

[930] They came down from Inveraray to Loch Goil by Hell's Glen.—Ed.

[931] 1837.

Too busy Mart! thus fared it with old Tyre, 1835.

[932] Above Elvanfoot, near the watershed, at "Summit" on the Caledonian Railway line, where the Clyde rises.—Ed.


XXXVII
"THERE!" SAID A STRIPLING, POINTING WITH MEET PRIDE

[Mosgiel was thus pointed out to me by a young man on the top of the coach on my way from Glasgow to Kilmarnock. It is remarkable that, though Burns lived some time here, and during much the most productive period of his poetical life, he nowhere adverts to the splendid prospects stretching towards the sea and bounded by the peaks of Arran on one part, which in clear weather he must have had daily before his eyes. In one of his poetical effusions he speaks of describing "fair Nature's face" as a privilege on which he sets a high value; nevertheless, natural appearances rarely take a lead in his poetry. It is as a human being, eminently sensitive and intelligent, and not as a poet, clad in his priestly robes and carrying the ensigns of sacerdotal office, that he interests and affects us. Whether he speaks of rivers, hills and woods, it is not so much on account of the properties with which they are absolutely endowed, as relatively to local patriotic remembrances and associations, or as they ministered to personal feelings, especially those of love, whether happy or otherwise;—yet it is not always so. Soon after we had passed Mosgiel Farm we crossed the Ayr, murmuring and winding through a narrow woody hollow. His line—"Auld hermit Ayr strays through his woods"—came at once to my mind with Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, and Doon,—Ayrshire streams over which he breathes a sigh as being unnamed in song; and surely his own attempts to make them known were as successful as his heart could desire.—I. F.]

"There!" said a Stripling, pointing with meet pride
Towards a low roof with green trees half concealed,
"Is Mosgiel Farm; and that's the very field
Where Burns ploughed up the Daisy."[933] Far and wide
A plain below stretched seaward, while, descried 5
Above sea-clouds, the Peaks of Arran rose;
And, by that simple notice, the repose
Of earth, sky, sea, and air, was vivified.
Beneath "the random bield of clod or stone"
Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower 10
Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour
Have passed away; less happy than the One
That, by the unwilling ploughshare, died to prove
The tender charm of poetry and love.

FOOTNOTES:

[933] See Burns's poem To a Mountain Daisy, or as it was originally called, The Gowan.—Ed.


XXXVIII
THE RIVER EDEN, CUMBERLAND

["Nature gives thee flowers
That have no rivals among British bowers."

This can scarcely be true to the letter; but, without stretching the point at all, I can say that the soil and air appear more congenial with many upon the banks of this river than I have observed in any other parts of Great Britain.—I. F.]

Eden! till now thy beauty had I viewed
By glimpses only, and confess with shame
That verse of mine, whate'er its varying mood,
Repeats but once the sound of thy sweet name:[934]
Yet fetched from Paradise[935] that honour came, 5
Rightfully borne; for Nature gives thee flowers
That have no rivals among British bowers;
And thy bold rocks are worthy of their fame.[936]
Measuring thy course, fair Stream! at length I pay[937]
To my life's neighbour dues of neighbourhood; 10
But I have traced thee on thy winding way[938]
With pleasure sometimes by this thought restrained
For things far off we toil, while many a good[939]
Not sought, because too near, is never gained.[940]

FOOTNOTES:

[934] 1835.

Full long thy beauty, Eden, had I viewed,
By glimpses only ...


MS.

Eden! the Muse has wronged thee, be the shame
Frankly acknowledged, in no careless mood
Of memory, my verse have I reviewed
And met but once the sound of thy sweet name:


MS.

[935] It is to be feared that there is more of the poet than the sound etymologist in this derivation of the Eden. On the western coast of Cumberland is a rivulet which enters the sea at Moresby, known also in the neighbourhood by the name of Eden. May not the latter syllable come from the word Dean, a valley? Langdale, near Ambleside, is by the inhabitants called Langden. The former syllable occurs in the name Emont, a principal feeder of the Eden; and the stream which flows, when the tide is out, over Cartmel Sands, is called the Ea—French, eau—Latin, aqua.—W. W. 1835.

[936] Especially on the upper reaches of the river, as seen from the Midland Railway line beyond Appleby.—Ed.

[937] 1835.

Bright are the hours that prompt me now to pay


MS.

[938] 1835.

Thee have I traced along thy winding way


MS.

[939] 1845.

... by the thought restrained
That things far off are toiled for, while a good 1835.


That for things far off we toil, while many a good 1840.

[940] 1840.

... is seldom gained 1835 and


MS.


XXXIX
MONUMENT OF MRS. HOWARD
(by Nollekens)
IN WETHERAL CHURCH, NEAR COREY, ON THE BANKS OF THE EDEN

[Before this monument was put up in the Church at Wetheral, I saw it in the sculptor's studio. Nollekens, who, by-the-bye, was a strange and grotesque figure that interfered much with one's admiration of his works, showed me at the same time the various models in clay which he had made, one after another, of the Mother and her Infant: the improvement on each was surprising; and how so much grace, beauty, and tenderness had come out of such a head I was sadly puzzled to conceive. Upon a window-seat in his parlour lay two casts of faces, one of the Duchess of Devonshire, so noted in her day; and the other of Mr. Pitt, taken after his death, a ghastly resemblance, as these things always are, even when taken from the living subject, and more ghastly in this instance from the peculiarity of the features. The heedless and apparently neglectful manner in which the faces of these two persons were left—the one so distinguished in London society, and the other upon whose counsels and public conduct, during a most momentous period, depended the fate of this great Empire and perhaps of all Europe—afforded a lesson to which the dullest of casual visitors could scarcely be insensible. It touched me the more because I had so often seen Mr. Pitt upon his own ground at Cambridge and upon the floor of the House of Commons.—I. F.]

Stretched on the dying Mother's lap, lies dead
Her new-born Babe; dire ending[941] of bright hope!
But Sculpture here, with the divinest scope
Of luminous faith, heavenward hath raised that head
So patiently; and through one hand has spread 5
A touch so tender for the insensate Child—
(Earth's lingering love to parting reconciled,
Brief parting, for the spirit is all but fled)—
That we, who contemplate the turns of life
Through this still medium, are consoled and cheered;
Feel with the Mother, think the severed Wife 11
Is less to be lamented than revered;
And own that Art, triumphant over strife
And pain, hath powers to Eternity endeared.

FOOTNOTES:

[941] 1845.

... issue ... 1835.

XL
SUGGESTED BY THE FOREGOING[942]

Tranquillity! the sovereign aim wert thou
In heathen schools of philosophic lore;[943]
Heart-stricken by stern destiny of yore
The Tragic Muse thee served with thoughtful vow;
And what of hope Elysium could allow 5
Was fondly seized by Sculpture, to restore
Peace to the Mourner. But when He who wore[944]
The crown of thorns around his bleeding brow
Warmed our sad being with celestial light,[945]
Then Arts which still had drawn a softening grace 10
From shadowy fountains of the Infinite,
Communed with that Idea face to face:
And move around it now as planets run,
Each in its orbit round the central Sun.

FOOTNOTES:

[942] In the edition of 1835 there is no title to this sonnet.

[943] [Greek: Ataraxia]Ἀταραξία, was the aim of Stoic, Epicurean, and Sceptic alike.—Ed.

[944] 1840.

Peace to the Mourner's soul; but He who wore 1835.

[945] 1840.

... with his glorious light: 1835.


Round our sad being shed celestial light, C.

XLI
NUNNERY[946]

[I became acquainted with the walks of Nunnery when a boy: they are within easy reach of a day's pleasant excursion from the town of Penrith, where I used to pass my summer holidays under the roof of my maternal Grandfather. The place is well worth visiting; though, within these few years, its privacy, and therefore the pleasure which the scene is so well fitted to give, has been injuriously affected by walks cut in the rocks on that side the stream which had been left in its natural state.—I. F.]

The floods are roused, and will not soon be weary;
Down from the Pennine Alps[947] how fiercely sweeps
Croglin, the stately Eden's tributary![948]
He raves, or through some moody passage creeps
Plotting new mischief—out again he leaps 5
Into broad light, and sends, through regions airy,[949]
That voice which soothed the Nuns while on the steeps
They knelt in prayer, or sang to blissful Mary.[950]
That union ceased: then, cleaving easy walks
Through crags, and smoothing paths beset with danger,
Came studious Taste; and many a pensive stranger 11
Dreams on the banks, and to the river talks.
What change shall happen next to Nunnery Dell?[951]
Canal, and Viaduct, and Railway, tell![952]

FOOTNOTES:

[946] Nunnery; so named from the House for Benedictine Nuns established by William Rufus.—Ed.

[947] The chain of Crossfell[953]—W. W. 1835.

[948] The two streams of the Croglin and the Eden unite in the grounds of Nunnery.—Ed.

[949] 1835.

Seeking in vain broad light, and regions aery.


MS.

[950] 1835.

But with that voice which once high on his steeps
Mingled with vespers, sung to blissful Mary—


MS.

[951] 1835.

... to Croglin Dell?


MS.

[952] At Corby, a few miles below Nunnery, the Eden is crossed by a magnificent viaduct; and another of these works is thrown over a deep glen or ravine at a very short distance from the main stream.—W. W. 1835.

[953] 1845.

which parts Cumberland and Westmoreland from Northumberland
and Durham. 1835.

XLII
STEAMBOATS, VIADUCTS, AND RAILWAYS

Motions and Means, on land and sea[954] at war
With old poetic feeling, not for this,
Shall ye, by Poets even, be judged amiss!
Nor shall your presence, howsoe'er it mar
The loveliness of Nature, prove a bar 5
To the Mind's gaining that prophetic sense
Of future change, that point of vision, whence
May be discovered what in soul ye are.
In spite of all that beauty may disown
In your harsh features, Nature doth embrace 10
Her lawful offspring in Man's art; and Time,
Pleased with your triumphs o'er his brother Space,
Accepts from your bold hands the proffered crown
Of hope, and smiles on you with cheer sublime.[955]

FOOTNOTES:

[954] 1835.

... on sea or land ...


Version in The Morning Post.

[955] Compare the Sonnet On the Projected Kendal and Windermere Railway, written in 1844.—Ed.


XLIII
THE MONUMENT COMMONLY CALLED LONG MEG AND HER DAUGHTERS, NEAR THE RIVER EDEN[956]

Composed, probably, in 1821.—Published 1822

A weight of awe, not easy to be borne,
Fell suddenly upon my Spirit—cast
From the dread bosom of the unknown past,
When first I saw that family forlorn.[957]
Speak Thou, whose massy strength and stature scorn[958]
The power of years—pre-eminent, and placed 6
Apart, to overlook the circle vast—
Speak, Giant-mother! tell it to the Morn
While she dispels the cumbrous shades of Night;
Let the Moon hear, emerging from a cloud; 10
At whose behest uprose on British ground
That Sisterhood, in hieroglyphic round
Forth-shadowing, some have deemed, the infinite
The inviolable God, that tames the proud![959][960]

FOOTNOTES:

[956] It first appeared in A Description of the Scenery of the Lakes in the North of England, third edition, 1822.—Ed.

[957] 1837.

....that Sisterhood forlorn. 1822.

[958] 1837.

And him, whose strength and stature seems to scorn 1822.

[959] The daughters of Long Meg, placed in a perfect circle eighty yards in diameter, are seventy-two in number above ground; a little way out of the circle stands Long Meg herself, a single stone, eighteen feet high. When I first saw this monument, as I came upon it by surprise, I might over-rate its importance as an object; but, though it will not bear a comparison with Stonehenge, I must say, I have not seen any other relique of those dark ages, which can pretend to rival it in singularity and dignity of appearance.—W. W. 1837.

The text of this note, in the edition of 1822, is slightly different.—Ed.

In a letter to Sir George Beaumont, January 6, 1821, Wordsworth wrote, "My road brought me suddenly and unexpectedly upon that ancient monument, called by the country people Long Meg and her Daughters. Everybody has heard of it, and so had I from very early childhood; but had never seen it before. Next to Stonehenge it is beyond dispute the most noble relic of the kind that this or probably any other country contains. Long Meg is a single block of unhewn stone, eighteen feet high, at a small distance from a vast circle of other stones, some of them of huge size, though curtailed of their stature, by their own incessant pressure upon it." Compare a note in Wordsworth's Guide to the Scenery of the Lakes, section 2.—Ed.

[960] 1837.

When, how, and wherefore, rose on British ground
That wondrous Monument, whose mystic round
Forth shadows, some have deemed, to mortal sight
The inviolable God that tames the proud! 1822.

XLIV
LOWTHER[961]

["Cathedral pomp." It may be questioned whether this union was in the contemplation of the artist when he planned the edifice. However this might be, a poet may be excused for taking the view of the subject presented in this Sonnet.—I. F.]

Lowther! in thy majestic Pile are seen[962]
Cathedral pomp and grace, in apt accord[963]
With the baronial castle's sterner mien;[964]
Union significant of God adored,
And charters won and guarded by the sword 5
Of ancient honour; whence that goodly state
Of polity which wise men venerate,[965]
And will maintain, if God his help afford.
Hourly the democratic torrent swells;[966]
For airy promises and hopes suborned 10
The strength of backward-looking thoughts is scorned.
Fall if ye must, ye Towers and Pinnacles,
With what ye symbolise; authentic Story
Will say, Ye disappeared with England's Glory!

FOOTNOTES:

[961] There was no title in the edition of 1835.

[962] 1835.

... in thy magnificence are seen


MS.

[963] 1835.

Shapes of cathedral pomp that well accord


MS.

[964] The present Castle was begun in 1808. It is in the style of the 13th and 14th century structures. The arched corridors surrounding the staircase—which is sixty feet square and ninety feet high—may justify the description in the sonnet. These stone corridors open on each side, through the centre of the castle. Compare the reference to Lowther in Barren's Travels in China, p. 134, in the course of his description of "Gehol's matchless gardens," referred to in The Prelude, book viii. (vol. iii. p. 274.)—Ed.

[965] The Lowther family have been, for generations, the representatives of the Conservative cause in Cumberland.—Ed.

[966] 1835.

But high the democratic torrent swells.


MS.


XLV
TO THE EARL OF LONSDALE

"Magistratus indicat virum."

Lonsdale! it were unworthy of a Guest,
Whose heart with gratitude to thee inclines,
If he should speak, by fancy touched, of signs
On thy Abode harmoniously imprest,
Yet be unmoved with wishes to attest 5
How in thy mind and moral frame agree
Fortitude, and that Christian Charity
Which, filling, consecrates the human breast.
And if the Motto on thy 'scutcheon teach
With truth, "The Magistracy shows the Man;"
That searching test thy public course has stood;[967] 11
As will be owned alike by bad and good,
Soon as the measuring of life's little span
Shall place thy virtues out of Envy's reach.[968]

FOOTNOTES:

[967] 1835.

Lonsdale! it were unworthy of a Guest,
One chiefly well aware how much he owes
To thy regard, to speak in verse or prose
Of types and signs harmoniously imprest
On thy Abode, neglecting to attest
That in thy Mansion's Lord as well agree
Meekness and strength and Christian charity,
That filling, consecrates the human breast.
And if, as thy armorial bearings teach,
"The Magistracy indicates the Man,"
That test thy life triumphantly has stood;


MS.

[968] This sonnet was written immediately after certain trials, which took place at the Cumberland Assizes, when the Earl of Lonsdale, in consequence of repeated and long-continued attacks upon his character, through the local press, had thought it right to prosecute the conductors and proprietors of three several journals. A verdict of libel was given in one case; and, in the others, the prosecutions were withdrawn, upon the individuals retracting and disavowing the charges, expressing regret that they had been made, and promising to abstain from the like in future.—W. W. 1835.


XLVI
THE SOMNAMBULIST[969]

[This poem might be dedicated to my friends, Sir G. Beaumont and Mr. Rogers jointly. While we were making an excursion together in this part of the Lake District we heard that Mr. Glover, the artist, while lodging at Lyulph's Tower, had been disturbed by a loud shriek, and upon rising he had learnt that it had come from a young woman in the house who was in the habit of walking in her sleep. In that state she had gone down stairs, and, while attempting to open the outer door, either from some difficulty or the effect of the cold stone upon her feet, had uttered the cry which alarmed him. It seemed to us all that this might serve as a hint for a poem, and the story here told was constructed and soon after put into verse by me as it now stands.—I. F.]

List, ye who pass by Lyulph's Tower[970][971]
At eve; how softly then
Doth Aira-force, that torrent hoarse,
Speak from the woody glen![972]
Fit music for a solemn vale! 5
And holier seems the ground[973]
To him who catches[974] on the gale
The spirit of a mournful tale,
Embodied in the sound.
Not far from that fair site whereon 10
The Pleasure-house is reared,
As story says, in antique days
A stern-brow'd house appeared;
Foil to a Jewel rich in light
There set, and guarded well; 15
Cage for a Bird of plumage bright,
Sweet-voiced, nor wishing for a flight
Beyond her native dell.
To win this bright Bird from her cage,
To make this Gem their own, 20
Came Barons bold, with store of gold,
And Knights of high renown;
But one She prized, and only one;
Sir Eglamore was he;
Full happy season, when was known, 25
Ye Dales and Hills! to you alone
Their mutual loyalty—[975]
Known chiefly, Aira! to thy glen,
Thy brook, and bowers of holly;
Where Passion caught what Nature taught, 30
That all but love is folly;
Where Fact with Fancy stooped to play;
Doubt came not, nor regret—
To trouble hours that winged their way,
As if through an immortal day 35
Whose sun could never set.
But in old times[976] Love dwelt not long
Sequester'd with repose;
Best throve the fire of chaste desire,
Fanned by the breath of foes. 40
"A conquering lance is beauty's test,
And proves the Lover true;"
So spake Sir Eglamore, and pressed
The drooping Emma[977] to his breast,
And looked a blind adieu. 45
They parted.—Well with him it fared
Through wide-spread regions errant;
A knight of proof in love's behoof,
The thirst of fame his warrant:
And She her happiness[978] can build 50
On woman's quiet hours;
Though faint, compared with spear and shield,
The solace beads and masses yield,
And needlework and flowers.
Yet blest was Emma[979] when she heard 55
Her Champion's praise recounted;
Though brain would swim, and eyes grow dim,
And high her blushes mounted;
Or when a bold heroic lay
She warbled from full heart; 60
Delightful blossoms for the May
Of absence! but they will not stay,
Born only to depart.
Hope wanes with her, while lustre fills
Whatever path he chooses; 65
As if his orb, that owns no curb,
Received the light hers loses.
He comes not back; an ampler space
Requires for nobler deeds;
He ranges on from place to place, 70
Till of his doings is no trace,
But what her fancy breeds.
His fame may spread, but in the past
Her spirit finds its centre;
Clear sight She has of what he was, 75
And that would now content her.
"Still is he my devoted Knight?"
The tear in answer flows;
Month falls on month with heavier weight;
Day sickens round her, and the night 80
Is empty of repose.
In sleep She sometimes walked abroad,
Deep sighs with quick words blending,
Like that pale Queen whose hands are seen
With fancied spots contending;[980] 85
But she is innocent of blood,—
The moon is not more pure
That shines aloft, while through the wood
She thrids her way, the sounding Flood
Her melancholy lure! 90
While 'mid the fern-brake sleeps the doe,
And owls alone are waking,
In white arrayed, glides on the Maid
The downward pathway taking,
That leads her to the torrent's side 95
And to a holly bower;
By whom on this still night descried?
By whom in that lone place espied?
By thee, Sir Eglamore![981]
A wandering Ghost, so thinks the Knight, 100
His coming step has thwarted,
Beneath the boughs that heard their vows,
Within whose shade they parted.
Hush, hush, the busy Sleeper see!
Perplexed her fingers seem, 105
As if they from the holly tree
Green twigs would pluck, as rapidly
Flung from her to the stream.
What means the Spectre? Why intent
To violate the Tree, 110
Thought Eglamore, by which I swore
Unfading constancy?
Here am I, and to-morrow's sun,
To her I left, shall prove
That bliss is ne'er so surely won 115
As when a circuit has been run
Of valour, truth, and love.
So from the spot whereon he stood,
He moved with stealthy pace;
And, drawing nigh, with his living eye,[982] 120
He recognised the face;
And whispers caught, and speeches small,
Some to the green-leaved tree,
Some muttered to the torrent-fall;—
"Roar on, and bring him with thy call; 125
I heard, and so may He!"
Soul-shattered was the Knight, nor knew
If Emma's Ghost[983] it were,
Or boding Shade, or if the Maid
Her very self stood there. 130
He touched; what followed who shall tell?
The soft touch snapped the thread
Of slumber—shrieking back she fell,
And the Stream whirled her down the dell
Along its foaming bed. 135
In plunged the Knight!—when on firm ground
The rescued Maiden lay,
Her eyes grew bright with blissful light,
Confusion passed away;
She heard, ere to the throne of grace 140
Her faithful Spirit flew,
His voice—beheld his speaking face;
And, dying, from his own embrace,
She felt that he was true.
So was he reconciled to life: 145
Brief words may speak the rest;[984]
Within the dell he built a cell,
And there was Sorrow's guest;
In hermits' weeds repose he found,
From vain temptations[985] free;[986] 150
Beside the torrent dwelling—bound
By one deep heart-controlling sound,
And awed to piety.
Wild stream of Aira, hold thy course,
Nor fear memorial lays, 155
Where clouds that spread in solemn shade,
Are edged with golden rays!
Dear art thou to the light of heaven,
Though minister of sorrow;
Sweet is thy voice at pensive even; 160
And thou, in lovers' hearts forgiven,
Shalt take thy place with Yarrow!

This poem was translated into Latin verse by the poet's son, and published in the second edition of Yarrow Revisited, and other Poems, 1835.—Ed.