[EK] Wallachia is the country alluded to.—W. W. 1820.

[EL] The Wordsworths remained some time in London in 1820, before they started for the Continent, on the 1st of August. They came up to be present at the marriage of Mr. Monkhouse. It is probable that they visited Richmond during this visit, and that the above Sonnet was suggested, both by the nightingale's song at Richmond, and by the prospect of their own Continental Tour. In connection with the six last lines of the Sonnet, it may be remembered that, when sailing between Kew and Richmond, Thomson,

The sweet-souled Poet of the Seasons,

caught the cold which ended his days. He lies buried in Richmond Church. In the first Book of The Seasons, on "Spring," he thus alludes to the nightingales—

Lend me your song, ye nightingales! Oh pour
The mazy running soul of melody
Into my varied verse.

Again,

She sings
Her sorrows through the night; and, on the bough
Sole sitting, still at every dying fall
Takes up again her lamentable strain
Of winding woe.

Also in his Hymn,

Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela, charm
The listening shades.

To Richmond he alludes frequently, e.g.

Ascend
While radiant Summer opens all its pride
Thy hill, delightful Shene.

Shene was the old name for Richmond.—Ed.

THE GERMANS ON THE HEIGHTS OF HOCK HEIM[407]

Published 1822

This sonnet was first published in the "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent, 1820"; the title being Local Recollections on the Heights near Hockheim. In 1827 it became one of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."—Ed.

Abruptly paused the strife;—the field throughout
Resting upon his arms each warrior stood,
Checked in the very act and deed of blood,
With breath suspended, like a listening scout.
5
O Silence! thou wert mother of a shout
That through the texture of yon azure dome
Cleaves its glad way, a cry of harvest home
Uttered to Heaven in ecstasy devout!
The barrier Rhine hath flashed, through battle-smoke,
10
On men who gaze[408] heart-smitten by the view,
As if all Germany had felt the shock!
—Fly, wretched Gauls! ere they the charge renew
Who have seen—themselves now casting off the yoke—[409]
The unconquerable Stream his course pursue.[EM]

VARIANTS:

[407] 1827.

The title in 1822 was Sonnet. Local Recollections on the Heights near Hockheim.

[408] 1827.

1822.
.    .    . gazed .    .    .

[409] 1837.

1822.
.    .    . (themselves delivered from the yoke)

FOOTNOTES:

[EM] The event is thus recorded in the journals of the day:—"When the Austrians took Hockheim, in one part of the engagement they got to the brow of the hill, whence they had their first view of the Rhine. They instantly halted—not a gun was fired—not a voice heard: but they stood gazing on the river with those feelings which the events of the last 15 years at once called up. Prince Schwartzenberg rode up to know the cause of this sudden stop, they then gave three cheers, rushed after the enemy, and drove them into the water."—W. W. 1822.

The only reference which Dorothy Wordsworth makes to Hockheim in her Journal of the Tour on the Continent (1820) is as follows:—July 25th.—"We had a magnificent prospect down the Rhine into the Reingaw, stretching towards Bingen. Hockheim is on the right bank, nearly opposite to Mayence. The broad hills are enlivened by hamlets, villas, villages, and churches."

Prince Schwartzenberg, referred to in Wordsworth's own note, was Generalissimo of the allied armies of Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, and Russia, who were victors in the battle of Leipsic in 1813. The retreat of the French towards the Rhine after that battle was almost as disastrous to them as the retreat from Moscow in the previous winter. The incident described in the sonnet doubtless occurred during this retreat, when the French were driven across the Rhine in November 1813.—Ed.

A PARSONAGE IN OXFORDSHIRE

Composed 1820.—Published 1822

[This Parsonage was the residence of my friend Jones, and is particularly described in another note.[EN]—I. F.]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.

Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends,
Is marked by no distinguishable line;
The turf unites, the pathways intertwine;
And, wheresoe'er the stealing footstep tends,
5
Garden, and that Domain where kindred, friends,
And, neighbours rest together, here confound
Their several features, mingled like the sound
Of many waters, or as evening blends
With shady night. Soft airs, from shrub and flower,
10
Waft fragrant greetings to each silent grave;
And while those lofty poplars gently wave
Their tops, between them[410] comes and goes a sky
Bright as the glimpses of eternity,
To saints accorded in their mortal hour.

This sonnet was written at Brugès, during the Continental Tour of 1820 (see note p. 291). It was originally published in a note to one of the "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," beginning

A genial hearth, a hospitable board.—Ed.

VARIANT:

[410] 1827.

Meanwhile between those Poplars, as they wave
1822.
Their lofty summits, .    .    .

FOOTNOTE:

[EN] See the note to Pastoral Character, in the "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," Part III. xviii.—Ed.

TO ENTERPRISE

Composed 1820.—Published 1822.

The Italian Itinerant, etc. [see p. 338], led to the train of thought which produced the annexed piece.—W. W. 1822.

This poem having risen out of the Italian Itinerant, etc. [page 338], it is here annexed.—W. W. 1827.

From 1822 this poem was included in the "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent." In 1845 it was placed among the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.

Keep for the Young the impassioned smile
Shed from thy countenance, as I see thee stand
High on that[411] chalky cliff of Britain's[412] Isle,
A slender volume grasping in thy hand—
5
(Perchance the pages that relate
The various turns of Crusoe's fate)—
Ah, spare the exulting smile,
And drop thy pointing finger bright
As the first flash of beacon light,
10
But neither veil thy head in shadows dim,
Nor turn thy face away
From One who, in the evening of his day,
To thee would offer no presumptuous hymn!

I

Bold Spirit! who art free to rove
15
Among the starry courts of Jove,
And oft in splendour dost appear
Embodied to poetic eyes,
While traversing this nether sphere,
Where Mortals call thee Enterprise.
20
Daughter of Hope! her favourite Child,
Whom she to young Ambition[413] bore,
When hunter's arrow first defiled
The grove, and stained the turf with gore;
Thee wingèd Fancy took, and nursed
25
On broad Euphrates' palmy shore,
And[414] where the mightier Waters burst
From caves of Indian mountains hoar!
She wrapped thee in a panther's skin;
And Thou, thy favourite food to win,
30
The flame-eyed eagle oft would scare
From her rock-fortress in mid air,
With infant shout; and often sweep,[415]
Paired with the ostrich, o'er the plain;
Or,[416] tired with sport, wouldst sink asleep
35
Upon the couchant lion's mane!
With rolling years thy strength increased;
And, far beyond thy native East,
To thee, by varying titles known
As variously thy power was shown,
40
Did incense-bearing altars rise,
Which caught the blaze of sacrifice,
From suppliants panting for the skies!

II

What though this ancient Earth be trod
No more by step of Demi-god
45
Mounting from glorious deed to deed
As thou from clime to clime didst lead;
Yet still, the bosom beating high,
And the hushed farewell of an eye
Where no procrastinating gaze
50
A last infirmity betrays,
Prove that thy heaven-descended sway
Shall ne'er submit to cold decay.
By thy divinity impelled,
The Stripling seeks the tented field;
55
The aspiring Virgin kneels; and, pale
With awe, receives the hallowed veil,
A soft and tender Heroine
Vowed to severer discipline;
Inflamed by thee, the blooming Boy
60
Makes of the whistling shrouds a toy,
And of the ocean's dismal breast
A play-ground,—or a couch of rest;
'Mid the blank world of snow and ice,
Thou to his dangers dost enchain
65
The[417] Chamois-chaser awed in vain
By chasm or dizzy precipice;
And hast Thou not with triumph seen
How soaring Mortals glide between
Or through the clouds,[418] and brave the light
70
With bolder than Icarian flight?
How they, in bells[419] of crystal, dive—
Where winds and waters cease to strive—
For no unholy visitings,
Among the monsters of the Deep;
75
And all the sad and precious things
Which there in ghastly silence sleep?
Or, adverse tides and currents headed,
And breathless calms no longer dreaded,
In never-slackening voyage go
80
Straight as an arrow from the bow;
And, slighting sails and scorning oars,
Keep faith with Time on distant shores?
—Within[420] our fearless reach are placed
The secrets of the burning Waste;
85
Egyptian tombs unlock their dead,
Nile trembles at his fountain head;
Thou speak'st—and lo! the polar Seas
Unbosom their last mysteries.
—But oh! what transports, what sublime reward,
90
Won from the world of mind, dost thou prepare
For philosophic Sage; or high-souled Bard
Who, for thy service trained in lonely woods,
Hath fed on pageants floating through the air,
94
Or calentured in depth of limpid floods;
Nor grieves—tho' doomed thro' silent night to bear
The domination of his glorious themes,
Or struggle in the net-work of thy dreams!

III

If there be movements in the Patriot's soul,
From source still deeper, and of higher worth,
100
'Tis thine the quickening impulse to control,
And in due season send the mandate forth;
Thy call a prostrate[421] Nation can restore,
When but a single Mind resolves to crouch no more.[422]

IV

Dread Minister of wrath!
105
Who to their destined punishment dost urge
The Pharaohs of the earth, the men of hardened heart!
Not unassisted by the flattering stars,
Thou strew'st temptation o'er the path
When they in pomp depart
110
With trampling horses and refulgent cars—
Soon to be swallowed by the briny surge;
Or cast, for lingering death, on unknown strands;
Or caught amid a whirl[423] of desert sands—
114
An Army now, and now a living hill
That a brief while heaves with convulsive throes—
Then all is still;[424][EO]
Or, to forget their madness and their woes,
Wrapt in a winding-sheet of spotless snows!

V

Back flows the willing current of my Song:
120
If to provoke such doom the Impious dare,
Why should it daunt a blameless prayer?
—Bold Goddess! range our Youth among;
Nor let thy genuine impulse fail to beat
In hearts no longer young;
125
Still may a veteran Few have pride
In thoughts whose sternness makes them sweet;
In fixed resolves by Reason justified;
That to their object cleave like sleet
Whitening a pine tree's northern side,
130
When fields are naked far and wide,
And withered leaves, from earth's cold breast
Up-caught in whirlwinds, nowhere can find rest.[425]

VI

But, if such homage thou disdain
As doth with mellowing years agree,
135
One rarely absent from thy train
More humble favours may obtain
For thy contented Votary.
She, who incites the frolic lambs
In presence of their heedless dams,
140
And to the solitary fawn
Vouchsafes her lessons, bounteous Nymph
That wakes the breeze, the sparkling lymph
Doth hurry to the lawn;
144
She, who inspires that strain of joyance holy
Which the sweet Bird, misnamed the melancholy,[EP]
Pours forth in shady groves, shall plead for me;
And vernal mornings opening bright
With views of undefined delight,
And cheerful songs, and suns that shine
150
On busy days, with thankful nights, be mine.

VII

But thou, O Goddess! in thy favourite Isle
(Freedom's impregnable redoubt,
The wide earth's store-house fenced about
With breakers roaring to the gales
155
That stretch a thousand thousand sails)
Quicken the slothful, and exalt the vile!—
Thy impulse is the life of Fame;
Glad Hope would almost cease to be
If torn from thy society;
160
And Love, when worthiest of his name,[426]
Is proud to walk the earth with Thee!

VARIANTS:

[411] 1837.

1822.
.    .    . a .    .    .

[412] The edition of 1849 has "Briton's," evidently a misprint.

[413] 1822.

c.
.    .    . to youthful Courage .    .    .

[414] 1845.

1822.
Or .    .    .

[415] 1837.

And thou (if rightly I rehearse
What wondering Shepherds told in verse)
From rocky fortress in mid air
(The food which pleased thee best to win)
Did'st oft the flame-eyed Eagle scare
1822.
With infant shout,—as often sweep,
And thou, whose earliest thoughts held dear
Allurements that were edged with fear,
(The food that pleased thee best, to win)
From rocky fortress in mid air
The flame-eyed Eagle oft would scare
1827.
With infant shout,—as often sweep,
And thou, whose earliest thoughts held dear
Allurements that were edged with fear,
(The food that pleased thee best, to win)
With infant shout wouldst often scare
From her rock-fortress in mid air
1832.
The flame-eyed Eagle—often sweep,

[416] 1837.

1822.
And, .    .    .

[417] 1837.

.    .    . and a couch of rest;
Thou to his dangers dost enchain,
'Mid the blank world of snow and ice,
1822.
The .    .    .
.    .    . and a couch of rest;
'Mid the blank world of snow and ice,
Thou to his dangers dost enchain
1832.
The .    .    .

[418] 1837.

.    .    . glide serene
1822.
From cloud to cloud, .    .    .

[419] 1832.

1822.
Or, in their bells .    .    .

[420] 1832.

.    .    . in ghastly silence sleep?
1822.
—Within .    .    .

[421] 1832.

1827.
.    .    . an abject .    .    .

[422] This stanza was first added in the edition of 1827.

[423] 1837.

1822.
Or stifled under weight .    .    .

[424] 1845.

Heaving with convulsive throes,—
1822.
It quivers—and is still;
Raised in a moment; with convulsive throes
1837.
It heaved—and all is still;

[425] 1840.

1822.
While .    .    .
And withered leaves, from Earth's cold breast
1832.
Up-caught in whirlwinds, nowhere can find rest.
.    .    . like sleet
Clothing a tall pine's northern side,
In rough November days when winds have tried
1837.
Their force on all things else—left naked far and wide.

[426] 1837.

1822.
.    .    . of the name,

FOOTNOTES:

[EO]

Awhile the living hill
Heaved with convulsive throes, and all was still.

—Dr. Darwin describing the destruction of the army of Cambyses.—W. W.
1822.

Compare Memoirs of Wordsworth, vol. ii. p. 225.—Ed.

[EP] The nightingale. Compare Il Penseroso, l. 62.—Ed.

THE RIVER DUDDON

A SERIES OF SONNETS

Composed 1820.—Published 1820

[It is with the little river Duddon as it is with most other rivers, Ganges and Nile not excepted,—many springs might claim the honour of being its head. In my own fancy I have fixed its rise near the noted Shire-stones placed at the meeting-point of the counties, Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire. They stand by the way side on the top of the Wrynose Pass, and it used to be reckoned a proud thing to say that, by touching them at the same time with feet and hands, one had been in the three counties at once. At what point of its course the stream takes the name of Duddon I do not know. I first became acquainted with the Duddon, as I have good reason to remember, in early boyhood. Upon the banks of the Derwent I had learnt to be very fond of angling. Fish abound in that large river; not so in the small streams in the neighbourhood of Hawkshead; and I fell into the common delusion that the farther from home the better sport would be had. Accordingly, one day I attached myself to a person living in the neighbourhood of Hawkshead, who was going to try his fortune as an angler near the source of the Duddon. We fished a great part of the day with very sorry success, the rain pouring torrents, and long before we got home I was worn out with fatigue; and, if the good man had not carried me on his back, I must have lain down under the best shelter I could find. Little did I think then it would be my lot to celebrate, in a strain of love and admiration, the stream which for many years I never thought of without recollections of disappointment and distress.

During my college vacation, and two or three years afterwards, before taking my Bachelor's degree, I was several times resident in the house of a near relative who lived in the small town of Broughton. I passed many delightful hours upon the banks of this river, which becomes an estuary about a mile from that place. The remembrances of that period are the subject of the 21st sonnet. The subject of the 27th is in fact taken from a tradition belonging to Rydal Hall, which once stood, as is believed, upon a rocky and woody hill on the right hand as you go from Rydal to Ambleside, and was deserted from the superstitious fear here described, and the present site fortunately chosen instead. The present hall was erected by Sir Michael le Fleming, and it may be hoped that at some future time there will be an edifice more worthy of so beautiful a position. With regard to the 30th sonnet it is odd enough that this imagination was realised in the year 1840 when I made a tour through that district with my wife and daughter, Miss Fenwick and her niece, and Mr. and Mrs. Quillinan. Before our return from Seathwaite Chapel the party separated. Mrs. Wordsworth, while most of us went further up the stream, chose an opposite direction, having told us that we should overtake her on our way to Ulpha. But she was tempted out of the main road to ascend a rocky eminence near it, thinking it impossible we should pass without seeing her. This, however, unfortunately happened, and then ensued vexation and distress, especially to me, which I should be ashamed to have recorded, for I lost my temper entirely. Neither I nor those that were with me saw her again till we reached the Inn at Broughton, seven miles. This may perhaps in some degree excuse my irritability on the occasion, for I could not but think she had been much to blame. It appeared, however, on explanation that she had remained on the rock, calling out and waving her handkerchief as we were passing, in order that we also might ascend and enjoy a prospect which had much charmed her. "But on we went, her signals proving vain." How then could she reach Broughton before us? When we found she had not gone on before to Ulpha Kirk, Mr. Quillinan went back in one of the carriages in search of her. He met her on the road, took her up, and by a shorter way conveyed her to Broughton, where we were all re-united and spent a happy evening.

I have many affecting remembrances connected with this stream. Those I forbear to mention; especially things that occurred on its banks during the later part of that visit to the sea-side, of which the former part is detailed in my Epistle to Sir George Beaumont.—I. F.]

The River Duddon rises upon Wrynose Fell, on the confines of Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire; and, having served[427] as a boundary to the two last[428] counties for the space of about twenty-five miles, enters the Irish Sea, between the Isle of Walney and the Lordship of Millum.—W. W. 1820.[EQ]

VARIANTS:

[427] 1837.

1820.
.    .    . and, serving

[428] 1827.

1820.
.    .    . latter

FOOTNOTE:

[EQ] Wordsworth delighted in tracing the course of rivers all the way from their source to the sea. On November 12, 1808, Southey wrote to his son, "If I go" (it was to Workington) "it will be with Wordsworth, for the sake of tracing the Derwent the whole way." (See Selections from the Letters of Robert Southey, vol. ii. p. 108.)—Ed.

TO THE REV. DR. WORDSWORTH[429][ER]

(WITH THE SONNETS TO THE RIVER DUDDON, AND OTHER POEMS IN THIS COLLECTION, 1820[430])

The Minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
5
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.
Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze,
10
Nor check, the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand!
And who but listened?—till was paid
Respect to every Inmate's claim:
15
The greeting given, the music played,
In honour of each household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And "merry Christmas" wished to all!
O Brother! I revere the choice
20
That took thee from thy native hills;
And it is given thee to rejoice:
Though public care full often tills
(Heaven only witness of the toil)
A barren and ungrateful soil.
25
Yet, would that Thou, with me and mine,
Hadst heard this never-failing rite;
And seen on other faces shine
A true revival of the light
Which Nature and these rustic Powers,
30
In simple childhood, spread through ours!
For pleasure hath not ceased to wait
On these expected annual rounds;
Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate
Call forth the unelaborate sounds,
35
Or they are offered at the door
That guards the lowliest of the poor.
How touching, when, at midnight, sweep
Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark,
To hear—and sink again to sleep!
40
Or, at an earlier call, to mark,
By blazing fire, the still suspense
Of self-complacent innocence;
The mutual nod,—the grave disguise
Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er;
45
And some unbidden tears that rise
For names once heard, and heard no more;
Tears brightened by the serenade
For infant in the cradle laid.
Ah! not for emerald fields alone,
50
With ambient streams more pure and bright
Than fabled Cytherea's zone[ES]
Glittering before the Thunderer's sight,
Is to my heart of hearts endeared
The ground where we were born and reared!
55
Hail, ancient Manners! sure defence,
Where they survive, of wholesome laws;
Remnants of love whose modest sense
Thus into narrow room withdraws;
Hail, Usages of pristine mould,
60
And ye that guard them, Mountains old!
Bear with me, Brother! quench the thought
That slights this passion, or condemns;
If thee fond Fancy ever brought
From the proud margin of the Thames,
65
And Lambeth's venerable towers,[ET]
To humbler streams, and greener bowers.
Yes, they can make, who fail to find,
Short leisure even in busiest days;
Moments, to cast a look behind,
70
And profit by those kindly rays
That through the clouds do sometimes steal,
And all the far-off past reveal.
Hence, while the imperial City's din
Beats frequent on thy satiate ear,
75
A pleased attention I may win
To agitations less severe,
That neither overwhelm nor cloy,
But fill the hollow vale with joy![EU]

VARIANTS: