book iv
. ll. 1185-94.--Ed.]
Thomas Wilkinson--referred to in the notes to 'The Solitary Reaper', vol. ii. pp. 399, 400, and the verses 'To the Spade of a Friend', in vol. iv.--alludes to this incident at some length in his poem, 'Emont Vale'. Wilkinson attended the funeral of young Gough, and writes of the incident with feeling, but without inspiration. Gough perished early in April, and his body was not found till July 22nd, 1805. A reference to his fate will be found in Lockhart's 'Life of Scott' (vol. ii. p. 274); also in a letter of Mr. Luff of Patterdale, to his wife, July 23rd, 1805. Henry Crabb Robinson records (see his 'Diary, Reminiscences', etc., vol. ii. p. 25) a conversation with Wordsworth, in which he said of this poem, that "he purposely made the narrative as prosaic as possible, in order that no discredit might be thrown on the truth of the incident."--Ed.
* * * * *
INCIDENT CHARACTERISTIC OF A FAVOURITE DOG [A]
Composed 1805.--Published 1807
[This dog I knew well. It belonged to Mrs. Wordsworth's brother, Mr. Thomas Hutchinson, who then lived at Sockburn-on-the-Tees, a beautiful retired situation, where I used to visit him and his sisters before my marriage. My sister and I spent many months there after my return from Germany in 1799--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--Ed.
On his morning rounds the Master Goes to learn how all things fare; Searches pasture after pasture, Sheep and cattle eyes with care; And, for silence or for talk, 5 He hath comrades in his walk; Four dogs, each pair of different breed, Distinguished two for scent, and two for speed.
See a hare before him started! --Off they fly in earnest chase; 10 Every dog is eager-hearted, All the four are in the race: And the hare whom they pursue, Knows from instinct [1] what to do; Her hope is near: no turn she makes; 15 But, like an arrow, to the river takes.
Deep the river was, and crusted Thinly by a one night's frost; But the nimble Hare hath trusted To the ice, and safely crost; so 20 She hath crost, and without heed All are following at full speed, When, lo! the ice, so thinly spread, Breaks--and the greyhound, DART, is over-head!
Better fate have PRINCE and SWALLOW--25 See them cleaving to the sport! MUSIC has no heart to follow, Little MUSIC, she stops short. She hath neither wish nor heart, Hers is now another part: 30 A loving creature she, and brave! And fondly strives [2] her struggling friend to save.
From the brink her paws she stretches, Very hands as you would say! And afflicting moans she fetches, 35 As he breaks the ice away. For herself she hath no fears,-- Him alone she sees and hears,-- Makes efforts with complainings; nor gives o'er Until her fellow sinks to re-appear no more. [3] 40
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
Hath an instinct ... 1807.]
[Variant 2:
1815.
And doth her best ... 1807.]
[Variant 3:
1837.
Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o'er Until her Fellow sunk, and reappear'd no more. 1807.
... sank, ... 1820.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In 1807 and 1815 the title was 'Incident, Characteristic of a favourite Dog, which belonged to a Friend of the Author'.--Ed.]
* * * * *
TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF THE SAME DOG
Composed 1805.--Published 1807
[Was written at the same time, 1805. The Dog Music died, aged and blind, by falling into a draw-well at Gallow] Hill, to the great grief of the family of the Hutchinsons, who, as has been before mentioned, had removed to that place from Sockburn.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--Ed.
Lie [1] here, without a record of thy worth, Beneath a [2] covering of the common earth! It is not from unwillingness to praise, Or want of love, that here no Stone we raise; More thou deserv'st; but _this_ man gives to man, 5 Brother to brother, _this_ is all we can. Yet [3] they to whom thy virtues made thee dear Shall find thee through all changes of the year: This Oak points out thy grave; the silent tree Will gladly stand a monument of thee. 10
We grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; [4] And willingly have laid thee here at last: For thou hadst lived till every thing that cheers In thee had yielded to the weight of years; Extreme old age had wasted thee away, 15 And left thee but a glimmering of the day; Thy ears were deaf, and feeble were thy knees,-- I saw thee stagger in the summer breeze, Too weak to stand against its sportive breath, And ready for the gentlest stroke of death. 20 It came, and we were glad; yet tears were shed; Both man and woman wept when thou wert dead; Not only for a thousand thoughts that were, Old household thoughts, in which thou hadst thy share; But for some precious boons vouchsafed to thee, 25 Found scarcely any where in like degree! For love, that comes wherever life and sense Are given by God, in thee was most intense; [5] A chain of heart, a feeling of the mind, A tender sympathy, which did thee bind 30 Not only to us Men, but to thy Kind: Yea, for thy fellow-brutes in thee we saw A soul [6] of love, love's intellectual law:-- Hence, if we wept, it was not done in shame; Our tears from passion and from reason came, 35 And, therefore, shalt thou be an honoured name!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: In the editions of 1807 to 1820 the following lines began the poem. They were withdrawn in 1827.
Lie here sequester'd:--be this little mound For ever thine, and be it holy ground!]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Beneath the ... 1807.]
[Variant 3:
But ... MS.]
[Variant 4:
1837.
I pray'd for thee, and that thy end were past; 1807.
I grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; 1820.]
[Variant 5:
1837.
For love, that comes to all; the holy sense, Best gift of God, in thee was most intense; 1807.]
[Variant 6:
1837.
The soul ... 1807.]
* * * * *
TO THE DAISY (#4)
Composed 1805.--Published 1815
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."--Ed.
Sweet Flower! belike one day to have A place upon thy Poet's grave, I welcome thee once more: But He, who was on land, at sea, My Brother, too, in loving thee, 5 Although he loved more silently, Sleeps by his native shore.
Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day When to that Ship he bent his way, To govern and to guide: 10 His wish was gained: a little time Would bring him back in manhood's prime And free for life, these hills to climb; With all his wants supplied.
And full of hope day followed day 15 While that stout Ship at anchor lay Beside the shores of Wight; The May had then made all things green; And, floating there, in pomp serene, That Ship was goodly to be seen, 20 His pride and his delight!
Yet then, when called ashore, he sought The tender peace of rural thought: In more than happy mood To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers! 25 He then would steal at leisure hours, And loved you glittering in your bowers, A starry multitude.
But hark the word!--the ship is gone;-- Returns from her long course: [1]--anon 30 Sets sail:--in season due, Once more on English earth they stand: But, when a third time from the land They parted, sorrow was at hand For Him and for his crew. 35
Ill-fated Vessel!--ghastly shock! --At length delivered from the rock, The deep she hath regained; And through the stormy night they steer; Labouring for life, in hope and fear, 40 To reach a safer shore [2]--how near, Yet not to be attained!
"Silence!" the brave Commander cried; To that calm word a shriek replied, It was the last death-shriek. 45 --A few (my soul oft sees that sight) Survive upon the tall mast's height; [3] But one dear remnant of the night-- For Him in vain I seek.
Six weeks beneath the moving sea 50 He lay in slumber quietly; Unforced by wind or wave To quit the Ship for which he died, (All claims of duty satisfied;) And there they found him at her side; 55 And bore him to the grave.
Vain service! yet not vainly done For this, if other end were none, That He, who had been cast Upon a way of life unmeet 60 For such a gentle Soul and sweet, Should find an undisturbed retreat Near what he loved, at last--
That neighbourhood of grove and field To Him a resting-place should yield, 65 A meek man and a brave! The birds shall sing and ocean make A mournful murmur for _his_ sake; And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake Upon his senseless grave. [4] 70
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
From her long course returns:--... 1815.]
[Variant 2:
1837.
Towards a safer shore--... 1815.]
[Variant 3:
1837
--A few appear by morning light, Preserved upon the tall mast's height: Oft in my Soul I see that sight; 1815.]
[Variant 4: In the edition of 1827 and subsequent ones, Wordsworth here inserted a footnote, asking the reader to refer to No. VI. of the "Poems on the Naming of Places," beginning "When, to the attractions of the busy world," p. 66. His note of 1837 refers also to the poem which there precedes the present one, viz. the 'Elegiac Stanzas.'--Ed.]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC STANZAS [A]
SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM, PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT
Composed 1805.--Published 1807
[Sir George Beaumont painted two pictures of this subject, one of which he gave to Mrs. Wordsworth, saying she ought to have it; but Lady Beaumont interfered, and after Sir George's death she gave it to Sir Uvedale Price, at whose house at Foxley I have seen it.--I. F.]
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."--Ed.
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee: I saw thee every day; and all the while Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! 5 So like, so very like, was day to day! Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there; It trembled, but it never passed away.
How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep; No mood, which season takes away, or brings: 10 I could have fancied that the mighty Deep Was even the gentlest of all gentle Things.
Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw; and add the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, 15 The consecration, and the Poet's dream; [1]
I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile Amid a world how different from this! Beside a sea that could not cease to smile; On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss. 20
Thou shouldst have seemed a treasure-house divine [2] Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;-- Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine The very sweetest had to thee been given.
A Picture had it been of lasting ease, 25 Elysian quiet, without toil or strife; No motion but the moving tide, a breeze, Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.
Such, in the fond illusion [3] of my heart, Such Picture would I at that time have made: 30 And seen the soul of truth in every part, A stedfast peace that might not be betrayed. [4]
So once it would have been,--'tis so no more; I have submitted to a new control: A power is gone, which nothing can restore; 35 A deep distress hath humanised my Soul.
Not for a moment could I now behold A smiling sea, and be what I have been: The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old; This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. 40
Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the Friend, If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore, This work of thine I blame not, but commend; This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.
O 'tis a passionate Work!--yet wise and well, 45 Well chosen is the spirit that is here; That Hulk which labours in the deadly swell, This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!
And this huge Castle, standing here sublime, 1 love to see the look with which it braves, 50 Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time, The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.
Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone, Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind! Such happiness, wherever it be known, 55 Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.
But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, And frequent sights of what is to be borne! Such sights, or worse, as are before me here.-- Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. 60
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1807.
and add a gleam, The lustre, known to neither sea nor land, But borrowed from the youthful Poet's dream; 1820.
... the gleam, 1827.
The edition of 1832 returns to the text of 1807. [a]]
[Variant 2:
1845.
... a treasure-house, a mine 1807.
The whole of this stanza was omitted in the editions of 1820-1843.]
[Variant 3:
1815.
... delusion ... 1807.]
[Variant 4:
1837.
A faith, a trust, that could not be betray'd. 1807.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The original title, in MS, was 'Verses suggested', etc,--Ed.]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: Many years ago Principal Shairp wrote to me,
"Have you noted how the two lines, 'The light that never was,' etc., stood in the edition of 1827? I know no other such instance of a change from commonplace to perfection of ideality."
The Principal had not remembered at the time that the "perfection of ideality" was in the original edition of 1807. The curious thing is that the prosaic version of 1820 and 1827 ever took its place. Wordsworth's return to his original reading was one of the wisest changes he introduced into the text of 1832.--Ed.]
There is a Peele Castle, on a small rocky island, close to the town of Peele, in the Isle of Man; yet separated from it, much as St. Michael's Mount in Cornwall is separated from the mainland. This castle was believed by many to be the one which Sir George painted, and which gave rise to the foregoing lines. I visited it in 1879, being then ignorant that any other Peele Castle existed; and although, the day being calm, and the season summer, I thought Sir George had idealized his subject much--(as I had just left Coleorton, where the picture still exists)--I accepted the customary opinion. But I am now convinced, both from the testimony of the Arnold family, [B] and as the result of a visit to Piel Castle, near Barrow in Furness, that Wordsworth refers to it. The late Bishop of Lincoln, in his uncle's 'Memoirs' (vol. i. p. 299), quotes the line
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged pile,"
and adds,
"He had spent four weeks there of a college summer vacation at the house of his cousin, Mr. Barker."
This house was at Rampside, the village opposite Piel, on the coast of Lancashire. The "rugged pile," too, now "cased in the unfeeling armour of old time," painted by Beaumont, is obviously this Piel Castle near Barrow. I took the engraving of his picture with me, when visiting it: and although Sir George--after the manner of landscape artists of his day--took many liberties with his subjects, it is apparent that it was this, and not Peele Castle in Mona, that he painted. The "four summer weeks" referred to in the first stanza, were those spent at Piel during the year 1794.
With the last verse of these 'Elegiac Stanzas' compare stanzas ten and eleven of the 'Ode, Intimations of Immortality', vol. viii.
One of the two pictures of "Peele Castle in a Storm"--engraved by S. W. Reynolds, and published in the editions of Wordsworth's poems of 1815 and 1820--is still in the Beaumont Gallery at Coleorton Hall.
The poem is so memorable that I have arranged to make this picture of "Peele Castle in a Storm," the vignette to vol. xv. of this edition. It deserves to be noted that it was to the pleading of Barron Field that we owe the restoration of the original line of 1807,
'The light that never was, on sea or land.'
An interesting account of Piel Castle will be found in Hearne and Byrne's 'Antiquities'. It was built by the Abbot of Furness in the first year of the reign of Edward III.--Ed.
[Footnote B: Miss Arnold wrote to me, in December 1893:
"I have never doubted that the Peele Castle of Wordsworth is the Piel off Walney Island. I know that my brother Matthew so believed, and I went with him some years ago from Furness Abbey over to Piel, visiting it as the subject of the picture and the poem."
Ed.]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC VERSES,
IN MEMORY OF MY BROTHER, JOHN WORDSWORTH, COMMANDER OF THE E. I. COMPANY'S SHIP, 'THE EARL OF ABERGAVENNY', IN WHICH HE PERISHED BY CALAMITOUS SHIPWRECK, FEB. 6TH, 1805.
Composed near the Mountain track, that leads from Grasmere through Grisdale Hawes, where it descends towards Patterdale.
Composed 1805.--Published 1842
[ "Here did we stop; and here looked round, While each into himself descends."
The point is two or three yards below the outlet of Grisedale Tarn, on a foot-road by which a horse may pass to Patterdale--a ridge of Helvellyn on the left, and the summit of Fairfield on the right.--I. F.]
This poem was included among the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."--Ed.
I The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo! That instant, startled by the shock, The Buzzard mounted from the rock Deliberate and slow: Lord of the air, he took his flight; 5 Oh! could he on that woeful night Have lent his wing, my Brother dear, For one poor moment's space to Thee, And all who struggled with the Sea, When safety was so near. 10
II Thus in the weakness of my heart I spoke (but let that pang be still) When rising from the rock at will, I saw the Bird depart. And let me calmly bless the Power 15 That meets me in this unknown Flower, Affecting type of him I mourn! With calmness suffer and believe, And grieve, and know that I must grieve, Not cheerless, though forlorn. 20
III Here did we stop; and here looked round While each into himself descends, For that last thought of parting Friends That is not to be found. Hidden was Grasmere Vale from sight, 25 Our home and his, his heart's delight, His quiet heart's selected home. But time before him melts away, And he hath feeling of a day Of blessedness to come. 30
IV Full soon in sorrow did I weep, Taught that the mutual hope was dust, In sorrow, but for higher trust, How miserably deep! All vanished in a single word, 35 A breath, a sound, and scarcely heard. Sea--Ship--drowned--Shipwreck--so it came, The meek, the brave, the good, was gone; He who had been our living John Was nothing but a name. 40
V That was indeed a parting! oh, Glad am I, glad that it is past; For there were some on whom it cast Unutterable woe. But they as well as I have gains;--45 From many a humble source, to pains Like these, there comes a mild release; Even here I feel it, even this Plant Is in its beauty ministrant To comfort and to peace. 50
VI He would have loved thy modest grace, Meek Flower! To Him I would have said, "It grows upon its native bed Beside our Parting-place; There, cleaving to the ground, it lies 55 With multitude of purple eyes, Spangling a cushion green like moss; But we will see it, joyful tide! Some day, to see it in its pride, The mountain will we cross." 60
VII--Brother and friend, if verse of mine Have power to make thy virtues known, Here let a monumental Stone Stand--sacred as a Shrine; And to the few who pass this way, 65 Traveller or Shepherd, let it say, Long as these mighty rocks endure,-- Oh do not Thou too fondly brood, Although deserving of all good, On any earthly hope, however pure! [A] 70
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: See 2nd vol. of the Author's Poems, page 298, and 5th vol., pages 311 and 314, among Elegiac Pieces.--W. W. 1842.
These poems are those respectively beginning:
"When, to the attractions of the busy world ..."
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! ..."
"Sweet Flower! belike one day to have ..."
Ed.
The plant alluded to is the Moss Campion (Silene acaulis, of Linnæus). See note at the end of the volume.--W. W. 1842.
See among the "Poems on the Naming of Places," No. VI.--W. W. 1845.
The note is as follows:
"Moss Campion ('Silene acaulis'). This most beautiful plant is scarce in England, though it is found in great abundance upon the mountains of Scotland. The first specimen I ever saw of it in its native bed was singularly fine, the tuft or cushion being at least eight inches diameter, and the root proportionably thick. I have only met with it in two places among our mountains, in both of which I have since sought for it in vain.
Botanists will not, I hope, take it ill, if I caution them against carrying off inconsiderately rare and beautiful plants. This has often been done, particularly from Ingleborough and other mountains in Yorkshire, till the species have totally disappeared, to the great regret of lovers of nature living near the places where they grew."--W. W. 1842.
See also 'The Prelude',