[62] Wordsworth himself, his nephew tells us, had no sense of smell (see the Memoirs, by his nephew Christopher, vol. ii. p. 322).—Ed.

[63] Afterwards Father Faber, priest of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri.—Ed.

[64] Monte Amiata,—Ed.

[65] On the old high road from Siena to Rome.—Ed.

[66] The mountain between Rydal Head and Helvellyn.—Ed.

[67] Seat Sandal is the mountain between Tongue Ghyll and Grisedale Tarn on the south and east, and the Dunmail Raise road on the west.—Ed.

[68] Compare The Eclipse of the Sun, l. 78, in “Memorials of a Tour on the Continent in 1820” (vol. vi. p. 345).—Ed.

[69] Keppelcove, Nethermost cove, and the cove in which Red Tarn lies bounded by the “skeleton arms” of Striding Edge and Swirrel Edge. Compare Fidelity, l. 17, vol. iii. p. 45—

It was a cove, a huge recess,
That keeps, till June, December’s snow.

Ed.

[70] Descending to Ullswater from Helvellyn, Greenside Fell and Mines are passed.—Ed.

[71] The Glenridding Screes are bold rocks on the left as you descend Helvellyn to Patterdale.—Ed.

[72] Glencoign is an offshoot of the Patterdale valley between Glenridding and Goldbarrow.—Ed.

[73] 1845.

… but …
1842.

[74] See the Fenwick note.—Ed.

[75] These words were quoted to me from Yarrow Unvisited, by Sir Walter Scott, when I visited him at Abbotsford, a day or two before his departure for Italy: and the affecting condition in which he was when he looked upon Rome from the Janicular Mount, was reported to me by a lady who had the honour of conducting him thither.—W.W. 1842. See also the Fenwick note to this poem, and compare Lockhart’s Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott (chapter lxxx. vol. x. p. 104).—Ed.

[76] The Janicular Mount.—Ed.

[77] See the Fenwick note prefixed to this poem.—Ed.

[78] He was then sixty-seven years of age.—Ed.

[79] See the Fenwick note.—Ed.

[80] The Campo Santo, or Burial Ground, founded by Archbishop Ubaldo (1188-1200).—Ed.

[81] “There are forty-three flat arcades, resting on forty-four pilasters.… In the interior there is a spacious hall, the open round-arched windows of which, with their beautiful tracery, sixty-two in number, look out upon a green quadrangle.… The walls are covered with frescoes by the Tuscan School of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, below which is a collection of Roman, Etruscan, and mediaeval sculptures.… The tombstones of persons interred here form the pavement.” (Baedeker’s Northern Italy, p. 324.)—Ed.

[82] Ubaldo conveyed hither fifty-three ship-loads of earth from Mount Calvary, in the Holy Land, in order that the dead might repose in holy ground.—Ed.

[83] The Baptistery in Pisa was begun in 1153 by Diotisalvi, and completed in 1278. It is a circular structure, covered by a conical dome, 190 feet high.—Ed.

[84] The Cathedral of Pisa is a basilica, built in 1063, in the Tuscan style, and has an elliptical dome.—Ed.

[85] The Campanile, or Clock-Tower, rises in eight stories to the height of 179 feet, and (from its oblique position) is known as the Leaning-Tower.—Ed.

[86] 1845.

Not …
1842.

[87] See the Fenwick note to this poem. Savona is a town on the Gulf of Genoa, capital of the Montenotte Department under Napoleon.—Ed.

[88] The theatre in Savona is dedicated to Chiabrera, who was a native of the place.—Ed.

[89] If any English reader should be desirous of knowing how far I am justified in thus describing the epitaphs of Chiabrera, he will find translated specimens of them in this Volume, under the head of “Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces.”—W.W. 1842.

[90] Tusculum was the birthplace of the elder Cato, and the residence of Cicero.—Ed.

[91] “Satis beatus unicis Sabinis.” Odes, ii. 18, 14.—Ed.

[92] See Horace, Odes, iii. 13.—Ed.

[93] See Horace, Epistles, i. 10, 49—

Haec tibi dictabam post fanum putre Vacunae.

Vacuna was a Sabine divinity. She had a sanctuary near Horace’s Villa. (Compare Pliny, Nat. Hist. iii. 42, 47.) A traveller in Italy writes: “Following a path along the brink of the torrent Digentia, we passed a towering rock, on which once stood Vacuna’s shrine.” See also Ovid, Fasti, vi. 307.—Ed.

[94] The Bay of Naples. Neapolis (the new city) received its ancient name of Parthenope from one of the Sirens, whose body was said to have been washed ashore in that bay. Sil. 12, 33.—Ed.

[95] See Georgics, iv. 564.—Ed.

[96] Virgil died at Brundusium, but his remains were carried to his favourite residence, Naples, and were buried by the side of the road leading to Puteoli—the Via Puteolana. His tomb is still pointed out near Posilipo,—close to the sea, and about half way from Naples to Puteoli, the Scuola di Virgilio.

“The monument, now called the tomb of Virgil, is not on the road which passes through the tunnel of Posilipo; but if the Via Puteolana ascended the hill of Posilipo, as it may have done, the situation of the monument would agree very well with the description of Donatus.” (George Long, in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography.)

The inscription said to have been placed on the tomb was as follows:—

Mantua me genuit, Calabri rapuere, tenet nunc
Parthenope. Cecini pascua, rura, duces.

Ed.

[97] The catacombs were subterranean chambers and passages, usually cut out of the solid rock, and used as places of burial, or of refuge. The early Christians made use of the catacombs in the Appian Way for worship, as well as for sepulture.—Ed.

[98] The Carcer Mamertinus,—one of the most ancient Roman structures,—overhung the Forum, as Livy tells us, “imminens foro,” underneath the Capitoline hill. It still exists, and is entered from the sacristy of the church of S. Giuseppe de Falagnami, to the left of the arch of Severus. It was originally a well (the Tullianum of Livy), and afterwards a prison, in which Jugurtha was starved to death, and Catiline’s accomplices perished. There are two chambers in the prison, one beneath the other; the lower-most containing, in its rock floor, a spring, which rises nearly to the surface. For the legend connected with it see the next note.—Ed.

[99] According to the legend, St. Peter, who was imprisoned in the Carcer Mamertinus under Nero, caused this spring to flow miraculously in order to baptize his jailors. Hence the building is called S. Pietro in Carcere.Ed.

[100] Compare “Despondency Corrected,” The Excursion, book iv. l. 1058—

Within the soul a faculty abides, etc.

Ed.

[101] See the Fenwick note.—Ed.

[102] It would be ungenerous not to advert to the religious movement that, since the composition of these verses in 1837, has made itself felt, more or less strongly, throughout the English Church;—a movement that takes, for its first principle, a devout deference to the voice of Christian antiquity. It is not my office to pass judgment on questions of theological detail; but my own repugnance to the spirit and system of Romanism has been so repeatedly and, I trust, feelingly expressed, that I shall not be suspected of a leaning that way, if I do not join in the grave charge, thrown out, perhaps in the heat of controversy, against the learned and pious men to whose labours I allude. I speak apart from controversy; but, with strong faith in the moral temper which would elevate the present by doing reverence to the past, I would draw cheerful auguries for the English Church from this movement, as likely to restore among us a tone of piety more earnest and real than that produced by the mere formalities of the understanding, refusing, in a degree, which I cannot but lament, that its own temper and judgment shall be controlled by those of antiquity.—W.W. 1842.

II
THE PINE OF MONTE MARIO[103] AT ROME

[Sir George Beaumont told me that, when he first visited Italy, pine-trees of this species abounded, but that on his return thither, which was more than thirty years after, they had disappeared from many places where he had been accustomed to admire them, and had become rare all over the country, especially in and about Rome. Several Roman villas have within these few years passed into the hands of foreigners, who, I observed with pleasure, have taken care to plant this tree, which in course of years will become a great ornament to the city and to the general landscape. May I venture to add here, that having ascended the Monte Mario, I could not resist embracing the trunk of this interesting monument of my departed friend’s feelings for the beauties of nature, and the power of that art which he loved so much, and in the practice of which he was so distinguished?—I.F.]

I saw far off the dark top of a Pine
Look like a cloud—a slender stem the tie
That bound it to its native earth—poised high
’Mid evening hues, along the horizon line,
Striving in peace each other to outshine. 5
But when I learned the Tree was living there,
Saved from the sordid axe by Beaumont’s care,[104]
Oh, what a gush of tenderness was mine!
The rescued Pine-tree, with its sky so bright
And cloud-like beauty, rich in thoughts of home, 10
Death-parted friends, and days too swift in flight,
Supplanted the whole majesty of Rome
(Then first apparent from the Pincian Height)[105]
Crowned with St. Peter’s everlasting dome.[106]

[103] The Monte Mario is to the north-west of Rome, beyond the Janiculus and the Vatican. The view from the summit embraces Rome, the Campagna, and the sea. It is capped by the villa Millini, in which the “magnificent solitary pine-tree” of this sonnet still stands, amidst its cypress plantations.—Ed.

[104] “It was Mr. Theed, the sculptor, who informed us of the pine-tree being the gift of Sir George Beaumont.” H.C. Robinson. (See Memoirs of Wordsworth, by his nephew, vol. ii. p. 330.)—Ed.

[105] From the Mons Pincius, “collis hortorum,” where were the gardens of Lucullus, there is a remarkable view of modern Rome.—Ed.

[106] Within a couple of hours of my arrival at Rome, I saw from Monte Pincio, the Pine tree as described in the sonnet; and, while expressing admiration at the beauty of its appearance, I was told by an acquaintance of my fellow-traveller, who happened to join us at the moment, that a price had been paid for it by the late Sir G. Beaumont, upon condition that the proprietor should not act upon his known intention of cutting it down.—W.W. 1842.

III
AT ROME

[Sight is at first sight a sad enemy to imagination and to those pleasures belonging to old times with which some exertions of that power will always mingle: nothing perhaps brings this truth home to the feelings more than the city of Rome; not so much in respect to the impression made at the moment when it is first seen and looked at as a whole, for then the imagination may be invigorated and the mind’s eye quickened; but when particular spots or objects are sought out, disappointment is I believe invariably felt. Ability to recover from this disappointment will exist in proportion to knowledge, and the power of the mind to reconstruct out of fragments and parts, and to make details in the present subservient to more adequate comprehension of the past.—I.F.]

Is this, ye Gods, the Capitolian Hill?
Yon petty Steep in truth the fearful Rock,
Tarpeian named of yore,[107] and keeping still
That name, a local Phantom proud to mock
The Traveller’s expectation?—Could our Will
Destroy the ideal Power within, ’twere done
Thro’ what men see and touch,—slaves wandering on,
Impelled by thirst of all but Heaven-taught skill.
Full oft, our wish obtained, deeply we sigh;
Yet not unrecompensed are they who learn, 10
From that depression raised, to mount on high
With stronger wing, more clearly to discern
Eternal things; and, if need be, defy
Change, with a brow not insolent, though stern.

[107] The Tarpeian rock, from which those condemned to death were hurled, is not now precipitous, as it used to be: the ground having been much raised by successive heaps of ruin.—Ed.

IV
AT ROME—REGRETS—IN ALLUSION TO NIEBUHR AND OTHER MODERN HISTORIANS

Those old credulities, to nature dear,
Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock
Of History, stript naked as a rock
’Mid a dry desert? What is it we hear?
The glory of Infant Rome must disappear,[108] 5
Her morning splendours vanish, and their place
Know them no more. If Truth, who veiled her face
With those bright beams yet hid it not, must steer
Henceforth a humbler course perplexed and slow;
One solace yet remains for us who came 10
Into this world in days when story lacked
Severe research, that in our hearts we know
How, for exciting youth’s heroic flame,
Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.

[108] Niebuhr, in his Lectures on Roman History (1826-29), was one of the first to point out the legendary character of much of the earlier history, and its “historical impossibility.” He explained the way in which much of it had originated in family and national vanity, etc.—Ed.

V
CONTINUED

Complacent Fictions were they, yet the same
Involved a history of no doubtful sense,
History that proves by inward evidence
From what a precious source of truth it came.
Ne’er could the boldest Eulogist have dared 5
Such deeds to paint, such characters to frame,
But for coeval sympathy prepared
To greet with instant faith their loftiest claim.
None but a noble people could have loved
Flattery in Ancient Rome’s pure-minded style: 10
Not in like sort the Runic Scald was moved;
He, nursed ’mid savage passions that defile
Humanity, sang feats that well might call
For the blood-thirsty mead of Odin’s riotous Hall.

VI
PLEA FOR THE HISTORIAN

Forbear to deem the Chronicler unwise,
Ungentle, or untouched by seemly ruth,
Who, gathering up all that Time’s envious tooth
Has spared of sound and grave realities,
Firmly rejects those dazzling flatteries, 5
Dear as they are to unsuspecting Youth,
That might have drawn down Clio from the skies
To vindicate the majesty of truth.
Such was her office while she walked with men,[109]
A Muse, who,[110] not unmindful of her Sire 10
All-ruling Jove, whate’er the[111] theme might be
Revered her Mother, sage Mnemosyne,
And taught her faithful servants how the lyre
Should[112] animate, but not mislead, the pen.[113]

[109] Clio, daughter of Zeus and Mnemosyne, the first-born of the Muses, presided over History. It was her office to record the actions of illustrious heroes.—Ed.

[110] 1845.

Her rights to claim, and vindicate the truth.
Her faithful Servants while she walked with men
Were they who, …
1842.

[111] 1845.

… their …
1842.

[112] 1845.

And, at the Muse’s will, invoked the lyre
To animate, …
1842.

[113]

Quem virum—lyra—
—sumes celebrare Clio?
W. W. 1842.

VII
AT ROME

[I have a private interest in this Sonnet, for I doubt whether it would ever have been written but for the lively picture given me by Anna Ricketts of what she had witnessed of the indignation and sorrow expressed by some Italian noblemen of their acquaintance upon the surrender, which circumstances had obliged them to make, of the best portion of their family mansions to strangers.—I.F.]

They—who have seen the noble Roman’s scorn
Break forth at thought of laying down his head,
When the blank day is over, garreted
In his ancestral palace, where, from morn
To night, the desecrated floors are worn 5
By feet of purse-proud strangers; they—who have read
In one meek smile, beneath a peasant’s shed,
How patiently the weight of wrong is borne;
They—who have heard some learned Patriot treat[114]
Of freedom, with mind grasping the whole theme 10
From ancient Rome, downwards through that bright dream
Of Commonwealths, each city a starlike seat
Of rival glory; they—fallen Italy—
Nor must, nor will, nor can, despair of Thee!

VIII
NEAR ROME, IN SIGHT OF ST. PETER’S

Long has the dew been dried on tree and lawn;
O’er man and beast a not unwelcome boon
Is shed, the languor of approaching noon;
To shady rest withdrawing or withdrawn
Mute are all creatures, as this couchant fawn, 5
Save insect-swarms that hum in air afloat,
Save that the Cock is crowing, a shrill note,
Startling and shrill as that which roused the dawn.
—Heard in that hour, or when, as now, the nerve
Shrinks from the note[115] as from a mis-timed thing, 10
Oft for a holy warning may it serve,
Charged with remembrance of his sudden sting,
His bitter tears, whose name the Papal Chair
And yon resplendent Church are proud to bear.

[114] 1845.

They—who have heard thy lettered sages treat
1842.

[115] 1845.

… voice …
1842.

IX
AT ALBANO[116]

[This Sonnet is founded on simple fact, and was written to enlarge, if possible, the views of those who can see nothing but evil in the intercessions countenanced by the Church of Rome. That they are in many respects lamentably pernicious must be acknowledged; but, on the other hand, they who reflect, while they see and observe, cannot but be struck with instances which will prove that it is a great error to condemn in all cases such mediation as purely idolatrous. This remark bears with especial force upon addresses to the Virgin.—I.F.]

Days passed—and Monte Calvo would not clear
His head from mist; and, as the wind sobbed through
Albano’s dripping Ilex avenue,[117]
My dull forebodings in a Peasant’s ear
Found casual vent. She said, “Be of good cheer; 5
Our yesterday’s procession did not sue
In vain; the sky will change to sunny blue,
Thanks to our Lady’s grace.” I smiled to hear,
But not in scorn:—the Matron’s Faith may lack
The heavenly sanction needed to ensure 10
Fulfilment; but, we trust, her upward track[118]
Stops not at this low point, nor wants the lure
Of flowers the Virgin without fear may own,
For by her Son’s blest hand the seed was sown.

[116] Albano, 10 miles south-east of Rome, is a small town and episcopal residence, a favourite autumnal resort of Roman citizens. It is on the site of the ruins of the villa of Pompey. Monte Carlo (the Monte Calvo of this sonnet) is the ancient Mons Latialis, 3127 feet high. At its summit a convent of Passionist Monks occupies the site of the ancient temple of Jupiter.—Ed.

[117] The ilex-grove of the Villa Doria is one of the most marked features of Albano.—Ed.

[118] 1845.

Its own fulfilment; but her upward track
1842.

X
“NEAR ANIO’S STREAM, I SPIED A GENTLE DOVE”

Near Anio’s stream,[119] I spied a gentle Dove
Perched on an olive branch, and heard her cooing
’Mid new-born blossoms that soft airs were wooing,
While all things present told of joy and love.
But restless Fancy left that olive grove 5
To hail the exploratory Bird renewing
Hope for the few, who, at the world’s undoing,
On the great flood were spared to live and move.
O bounteous Heaven! signs true as dove and bough
Brought to the ark are coming evermore, 10
Given though we seek them not, but, while we plough[120]
This sea of life without a visible shore,
Do neither promise ask nor grace implore
In what alone is ours, the living Now.[121]

[119] The Anio joins the Tiber north of Rome, flowing from the north-east past Tivoli.—Ed.

[120] 1845.

Even though men seek them not, but, while they plough
1842.

[121] 1845.

… the vouchsafed Now.
1842.

XI
FROM THE ALBAN HILLS, LOOKING TOWARDS ROME

Forgive, illustrious Country! these deep sighs,
Heaved less for thy bright plains and hills bestrown
With monuments decayed or overthrown,
For all that tottering stands or prostrate lies,
Than for like scenes in moral vision shown, 5
Ruin perceived for keener sympathies;
Faith crushed, yet proud of weeds, her gaudy crown
Virtues laid low, and mouldering energies.
Yet why prolong this mournful strain?—Fallen Power,
Thy fortunes, twice exalted,[122] might provoke 10
Verse to glad notes prophetic of the hour
When thou, uprisen, shalt break thy double yoke,
And enter, with prompt aid from the Most High,
On the third stage of thy great destiny.[123]

[122] The ancient Classic period, and that of the Renaissance.—Ed.

[123] This period seems to have been already entered. Compare Mrs. Browning’s “Poems before Congress,” passim.—Ed.

XII
NEAR THE LAKE OF THRASYMENE

When here with Carthage Rome to conflict came,[124]
An earthquake, mingling with the battle’s shock,
Checked not its rage;[125] unfelt the ground did rock,
Sword dropped not, javelin kept its deadly aim.—
Now all is sun-bright peace. Of that day’s shame, 5
Or glory, not a vestige seems to endure,
Save in this Rill that took from blood the name[126]
Which yet it bears, sweet Stream! as crystal pure.
So may all trace and sign of deeds aloof
From the true guidance of humanity, 10
Thro’ Time and Nature’s influence, purify
Their spirit; or, unless they for reproof
Or warning serve, thus let them all, on ground
That gave them being, vanish to a sound.

[124] The Carthaginian general Hannibal defeated the Roman Consul C. Flaminius, near the lacus Trasimenus, 217 B.C., with a loss of 15,000 men. (See Livy, book xxii. 4, etc.)—Ed.