book viii

.); by Ossian (frequently); and by Burns, in his _Lament of Mary Queen of Scots_ (l. 53). Wordsworth probably refers to Burns.--ED.

[713] Finlarig, near Killin, is the burial-place of the Breadalbane family. "The modern mausoleum occupies a solitary position in the vicinity of the old ruins."--ED.

XIV

"REST AND BE THANKFUL!"

AT THE HEAD OF GLENCROE

Doubling and doubling with laborious walk, Who, that has gained at length the wished-for Height, This brief this simple way-side Call can slight, And rests not thankful? Whether cheered by talk With some loved friend, or by the unseen hawk 5 Whistling to clouds and sky-born streams, that shine At the sun's outbreak, as with light divine, Ere they descend to nourish root and stalk Of valley flowers. Nor, while the limbs repose, Will we forget that, as the fowl can keep 10 Absolute stillness, poised aloft in air, And fishes front, unmoved, the torrent's sweep,-- So may the Soul, through powers that Faith bestows, Win rest, and ease, and peace, with bliss that Angels share.

XV

HIGHLAND HUT

See what gay wild flowers deck this earth-built Cot, Whose smoke, forth-issuing whence and how it may, Shines in the greeting of the sun's first ray Like wreaths of vapour without stain or blot. The limpid mountain rill avoids it not; 5 And why shouldst thou?--If rightly trained and bred, Humanity is humble, finds no spot Which her Heaven-guided feet refuse to tread. The walls are cracked, sunk is the flowery roof, Undressed the pathway leading to the door; 10 But love, as Nature loves, the lonely Poor; Search, for their worth, some gentle heart wrong-proof, Meek, patient, kind, and, were its trials fewer, Belike less happy.--Stand no more aloof![714]

FOOTNOTES:

[714] This sonnet describes the _exterior_ of a Highland hut, as often seen under morning or evening sunshine. To the authoress of the _Address to the Wind_, and other poems, in these volumes, who was my fellow-traveller in this tour, I am indebted for the following extract from her journal, which[715] accurately describes, under particular circumstances, the beautiful appearance of the _interior_ of one of these rude habitations.

"On our return from the Trosachs the evening began to darken, and it rained so heavily that we were completely wet before we had come two miles, and it was dark when we landed with our boatman, at his hut upon the banks of Loch Katrine. I was faint from cold: the good woman had provided, according to her promise, a better fire than we had found in the morning; and, indeed, when I sat down in the chimney-corner of her smoky biggin, I thought I had never felt more comfortable in my life: a pan of coffee was boiling for us, and, having put our clothes in the way of drying, we all sat down thankful for a shelter. We could not prevail upon our boatman, the master of the house, to draw near the fire, though he was cold and wet, or to suffer his wife to get him dry clothes till she had served us, which she did most willingly, though not very expeditiously.

"A Cumberland man of the same rank would not have had such a notion of what was fit and right in his own house, or, if he had, one would have accused him of servility; but in the Highlander it only seemed like politeness (however erroneous and painful to us), naturally growing out of the dependence of the inferiors of the clan upon their laird; he did not, however, refuse to let his wife bring out the whisky bottle for his refreshment, at our request. 'She keeps a dram,' as the phrase is: indeed, I believe there is scarcely a lonely house by the way-side, in Scotland, where travellers may not be accommodated with a dram. We asked for sugar, butter, barley-bread, and milk; and, with a smile and a stare more of kindness than wonder, she replied, 'Ye'll get that,' bringing each article separately. We caroused our cups of coffee, laughing like children at the strange atmosphere in which we were: the smoke came in gusts, and spread along the walls; and above our heads in the chimney (where the hens were _roosting_) it appeared like clouds[716] in the sky. We laughed and laughed again, in spite of the smarting of our eyes, yet had a quieter pleasure in observing the beauty of the beams and rafters gleaming between the clouds of smoke: they had been crusted over, and varnished by many winters, till, where the firelight fell upon them, they had become as glossy as black rocks, on a sunny day, cased in ice. When we had eaten our supper we sat about half an hour, and I think I never felt so deeply the blessing of a hospitable welcome and a warm fire. The man of the house repeated from time to time that we should often tell of this night when we got to our homes, and interposed praises of his own lake, which he had more than once, when we were returning in the boat, ventured to say was 'bonnier than Loch Lomond.' Our companion from the Trosachs, who, it appeared, was an Edinburgh drawing-master going, during the vacation, on a pedestrian tour to John o' Groat's house, was to sleep in the barn with my fellow-travellers, where the man said he had plenty of dry hay. I do not believe that the hay of the Highlands is ever very dry, but this year it had a better chance than usual: wet or dry, however, the next morning they said they had slept comfortably. When I went to bed, the mistress, desiring me to '_go ben_,' attended me with a candle, and assured me that the bed was dry, though not 'sic as I had been used to.' It was of chaff; there were two others in the room, a cupboard and two chests, upon one of which stood milk in wooden vessels, covered over. The walls of the house were of stone unplastered: it consisted of three apartments, the cowhouse at one end, the kitchen or house in the middle, and the spence at the other end; the rooms were divided, not up to the rigging, but only to the beginning of the roof, so that there was a free passage for light and smoke from one end of the house to the other. I went to bed some time before the rest of the family; the door was shut between us, and they had a bright fire, which I could not see, but the light it sent up amongst[717] the varnished rafters and beams, which crossed each other in almost as intricate and fantastic a manner as I have seen the under-boughs of a large beech tree withered by the depth of shade above, produced the most beautiful effect that can be conceived. It was like what I should suppose an under-ground cave or temple to be, with a dripping or moist roof, and the moonlight entering in upon it by some means or other: and yet the colours were more like those of melted gems. I lay looking up till the light of the fire faded away, and the man and his wife and child had crept into their bed at the other end of the room: I did not sleep much, but passed a comfortable night; for my bed, though hard, was warm and clean: the unusualness of my situation prevented me from sleeping. I could hear the waves beat against the shore of the lake: a little rill close to the door made a much louder noise, and, when I sat up in my bed, I could see the lake through an open window-place at the bed's head. Add to this, it rained all night. I was less occupied by remembrance of the Trosachs, beautiful as they were, than the vision of the Highland hut, which I could not get out of my head; I thought of the Faery-land of Spenser, and what I had read in romance at other times; and then what a feast it would be for a London Pantomime-maker could he but transplant it to Drury-lane, with all its beautiful colours!"--MS. W. W. 1835.

[715] 1837.

... sunshine. The reader may not be displeased with the following extract from the journal of a Lady, my fellow-traveller in Scotland in the autumn of 1803, which ... 1835.

[716] 1837.

roosting) like clouds 1835.

[717] 1845.

among 1835.

XVI

THE BROWNIE

Upon a small island not far from the head of Loch Lomond, are some remains of an ancient building, which was for several years the abode of a solitary Individual, one of the last survivors of the clan of Macfarlane, once powerful in that neighbourhood. Passing along the shore opposite this island in the year 1814, the Author learned these

## particulars, and that this person then living there had acquired the

appellation of "The Brownie." See _The Brownie's Cell_ (vol. vi. p. 16), to which the following[718] is a sequel.--W. W.

"How disappeared he?" Ask the newt and toad; Ask of his fellow men, and they will tell How he was found, cold as an icicle, Under an arch of that forlorn abode; Where he, unpropp'd, and by the gathering flood 5 Of years hemm'd round, had dwelt, prepared to try Privation's worst extremities, and die With no one near save the omnipresent God. Verily so to live was an awful choice-- A choice that wears the aspect of a doom; 10 But in the mould of mercy all is cast For Souls familiar with the eternal Voice; And this forgotten Taper to the last Drove from itself, we trust, all frightful gloom.

FOOTNOTES:

[718] 1837.

following Sonnet is 1835.

XVII

TO THE PLANET VENUS, AN EVENING STAR

COMPOSED AT LOCH LOMOND

Though joy attend Thee orient at the birth Of dawn, it cheers the lofty spirit most To watch thy course when Day-light, fled from earth, In the grey sky hath left his lingering Ghost, Perplexed as if between a splendour lost 5 And splendour slowly mustering. Since the Sun, The absolute, the world-absorbing One, Relinquished half his empire to the host Emboldened by thy guidance, holy Star, Holy as princely, who that looks on thee 10 Touching, as now, in thy humility The mountain borders of this seat of care, Can question that thy countenance is bright, Celestial Power, as much with love as light?

XVIII

BOTHWELL CASTLE

(PASSED UNSEEN, ON ACCOUNT OF STORMY WEATHER)

[In my Sister's Journal is an account of Bothwell Castle as it appeared to us at that time.--I.F.]

Immured in Bothwell's Towers, at times the Brave (So beautiful is Clyde) forgot to mourn The liberty they lost at Bannockburn. Once on those steeps _I_ roamed[719] at large, and have In mind the landscape, as if still in sight; 5 The river glides, the woods before me wave; Then why repine that now in vain I crave[720] Needless renewal of an old delight? Better to thank a dear and long-past day For joy its sunny hours were free to give 10 Than blame the present, that our wish hath crost. Memory, like sleep, hath powers which dreams obey, Dreams, vivid dreams, that are not fugitive: How little that she cherishes is lost!

FOOTNOTES:

[719] The following is from the same MS., and gives an account of the visit to Bothwell Castle here alluded to:--

"It was exceedingly delightful to enter thus unexpectedly upon such a beautiful region. The castle stands nobly, overlooking the Clyde. When we came up to it, I was hurt to see that flower-borders had taken place of the natural overgrowings of the ruin, the scattered stones and wild plants. It is a large and grand pile of red freestone, harmonising perfectly with the rocks of the river, from which, no doubt, it has been hewn. When I was a little accustomed to the unnaturalness of a modern garden, I could not help admiring the excessive beauty and luxuriance of some of the plants, particularly the purple-flowered clematis, and a broad-leafed creeping plant without flowers, which scrambled up the castle wall, along with the ivy, and spread its vine-like branches so lavishly that it seemed to be in its natural situation, and one could not help thinking that, though not self-planted among the ruins of this country, it must somewhere have its native abode in such places. If Bothwell Castle had not been close to the Douglas mansion, we should have been disgusted with the possessor's miserable conception of _adorning_ such a venerable ruin; but it is so very near to the house, that of necessity the pleasure-grounds must have extended beyond it, and perhaps the neatness of a shaven lawn and the complete desolation natural to a ruin might have made an unpleasing contrast; and, besides being within the precincts of the pleasure-grounds, and so very near to the dwelling of a noble family, it has forfeited, in some degree, its independent majesty, and becomes a tributary to the mansion: its solitude being interrupted, it has no longer the command over the mind in sending it back into past times, or excluding the ordinary feelings which we bear about us in daily life. We had then only to regret that the castle and the house were so near to each other; and it was impossible _not_ to regret it; for the ruin presides in state over the river, far from city or town, as if it might have a peculiar privilege to preserve its memorials of past ages, and maintain its own character for centuries to come. We sat upon a bench under the high trees, and had beautiful views of the different reaches of the river, above and below. On the opposite bank, which is finely wooded with elms and other trees, are the remains of a priory built upon a rock; and rock and ruin are so blended, that it is impossible to separate the one from the other. Nothing can be more beautiful than the little remnant of this holy place: elm trees (for we were near enough to distinguish them by their branches) grow out of the walls, and overshadow a small, but very elegant window. It can scarcely be conceived what a grace the castle and priory impart to each other; and the river Clyde flows on, smooth and unruffled below, seeming to my thoughts more in harmony with the sober and stately images of former times, than if it had roared over a rocky channel, forcing its sound upon the ear. It blended gently with the warbling of the smaller birds, and the chattering of the larger ones, that had made their nests in the ruins. In this fortress the chief of the English nobility were confined after the battle of Bannockburn. If a man _is_ to be a prisoner, he scarcely could have a more pleasant place to solace his captivity; but I thought that, for close confinement, I should prefer the banks of a lake, or the seaside. The greatest charm of a brook or river is in the liberty to pursue it through its windings: you can then take it in whatever mood you like; silent or noisy, sportive or quiet. The beauties of a brook or river must be sought, and the pleasure is in going in search of them; those of a lake or of the sea come to you of themselves. These rude warriors cared little, perhaps, about either; and yet, if one may judge from the writings of Chaucer, and from the old romances, more interesting passions were connected with natural objects in the days of chivalry than now; though going in search of scenery, as it is called, had not then been thought of. I had previously heard nothing of Bothwell Castle, at least nothing that I remembered; therefore, perhaps, my pleasure was greater, compared with what I received elsewhere, than others might feel."--MS. Journal.--W. W. 1835.

[720] 1837.

But, by occasion tempted, now I crave 1835.

XIX

PICTURE OF DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN, AT HAMILTON PALACE

Amid a fertile region green with wood And fresh with rivers, well did[721] it become The ducal Owner, in his palace-home To naturalise this tawny Lion brood; Children of Art, that claim strange brotherhood 5 (Couched in their den) with those that roam at large Over the burning wilderness, and charge The wind with terror while they roar for food. Satiate are _these_; and stilled to eye and ear; Hence, while we gaze,[722] a more enduring fear! 10 Yet is the Prophet calm, nor would the cave Daunt him--if his Companions, now be-drowsed Outstretched[723] and listless, were by hunger roused: Man placed him here, and God, he knows, can save.

Henry Crabb Robinson gives an account of this picture in his _Diary, etc._ (vol. ii. pp. 214, 215):--

"On September the 29th, from Lanark I visited the Duke of Hamilton's palace, and had unusual pleasure in the paintings to be seen there. I venture to copy my remarks on the famous Rubens' 'Daniel in the Lions' Den:'--'The variety of character in the lions is admirable. Here is indignation at the unintelligible power which restrains them; there reverence towards the being whom they dare not touch. One of them is consoled by the contemplation of the last skull he has been picking; one is anticipating his next meal; two are debating the subject together. But the Prophet, with a face resembling Curran's (foreshortened so as to lose its best expression), has all the muscles of his countenance strained from extreme terror. He is without joy or hope; and though his doom is postponed, he has no faith in the miracle which is to reward his integrity. It is a painting rather to astonish than delight.'"

In a footnote Robinson adds, "Daniel's head is thrown back, and he looks upwards with an earnest expression and clasped hands, as if vehemently supplicating. The picture formerly belonged to King Charles I. It was at that time entered as follows in the Catalogue of the Royal Pictures:--'A piece of Daniel in the Lions' Den with lions about him, given by the deceased Lord Dorchester to the king, being so big as the life. Done by Sir Peter Paul Rubens.' Dr. Waagen very justly observes that, upon the whole, the figure of Daniel is only an accessory employed by the great master to introduce, in the most perfect form, nine figures of lions and lionesses the size of life. Rubens, in a letter to Sir Dudley Carleton (who presented the picture to the king), dated April 28th, 1618, expressly states that it was wholly his own workmanship. The price was six hundred florins. Engraved in mezzotint by W. Ward, 1789."

This famous picture, after having been in the possession of the Duke of Hamilton, was sold--in 1882--to Mr. Denison, Yorkshire. The following is from the catalogue of the Hamilton Palace sale:--

RUBENS--DANIEL IN THE DEN OF LIONS.--The prophet is represented sitting naked in the middle of the den, his hands clasped, and his countenance directed upward with an expression of earnest prayer. Nine lions are prowling around him. Engraved by Blooteling, Van der Leuw, and Lamb, and in mezzotint by J. Ward. There is also an etching of it by Street, extremely rare. This is one of the few great pictures by Rubens which we know with certainty to have been entirely executed by his own hand. Rubens says this explicitly in an Italian letter to Sir Dudley Carleton, which Mr. Carpenter has printed in his _Pictorial Notices_, p. 140. This picture was presented by Sir Dudley Carleton to Charles I., and is inserted in the printed catalogue of his collection at page 87.

"No. 14.

[Sidenote: Done by Sir Peter Paul Rubens.]

Item.--A piece of Daniel in the lions' den, with lions about him. Given by the deceased Lord Dorchester to the king, so big as the life, in a black gilded frame."

It was sold to Mr. Denison for £5145.--ED.

FOOTNOTES:

[721] 1840.

... doth ... 1835.

[722] 1845.

But _these_ are satiate, and a stillness drear Calls into life ... 1835.

Satiate are _these_; and still--to eye and ear; Hence, while we gaze, ... 1837.

[723] 1837.

Yawning ... 1835.

XX

THE AVON

(A FEEDER OF THE ANNAN)

["Yet is it one that other rivulets bear." There is the Shakespeare Avon, the Bristol Avon; the one that flows by Salisbury, and a small river in Wales, I believe, bear the name; Avon being in the ancient tongue the general name for river.--I. F.]

Avon--a precious, an immortal name! Yet is it one that other rivulets bear Like this unheard-of, and their channels wear Like this contented, though unknown to Fame: For great and sacred is the modest claim 5 Of Streams to Nature's love, where'er they flow; And ne'er did Genius slight them, as they go, Tree, flower, and green herb, feeding without blame. But Praise can waste her voice on work of tears, Anguish, and death: full oft where innocent blood 10 Has mixed its current with the limpid flood, Her heaven-offending trophies Glory rears: Never for like distinction may the good Shrink from _thy_ name, pure Rill, with unpleased ears.

XXI

SUGGESTED BY A VIEW FROM AN EMINENCE IN INGLEWOOD FOREST

[The extensive forest of Inglewood has been enclosed within my memory. I was well acquainted with it in its ancient state. The Hart's-horn tree mentioned in the next Sonnet was one of its remarkable objects, as well as another tree that grew upon an eminence not far from Penrith: it was single and conspicuous; and being of a round shape, though it was universally known to be a Sycamore, it was always called the "Round Thorn," so difficult is it to chain fancy down to fact.--I.F.]

The forest huge of ancient Caledon Is but a name, no[724] more is Inglewood, That swept from hill to hill, from flood to flood: On her last thorn the nightly moon has shone; Yet still, though unappropriate Wild be none, 5 Fair parks spread wide where Adam Bell might deign With Clym o' the Clough, were they alive again, To kill for merry feast their venison. Nor wants the holy Abbot's gliding Shade His church with monumental wreck bestrown; 10 The feudal Warrior-chief, a Ghost unlaid, Hath still his castle, though a skeleton, That he may watch by night, and lessons con Of power that perishes, and rights that fade.

FOOTNOTES:

[724] 1845.

... nor ... 1835.

XXII

HART'S-HORN TREE, NEAR PENRITH[725]

Here stood an Oak, that long had borne affixed To his huge trunk, or, with more subtle art, Among its withering topmost branches mixed, The palmy antlers of a hunted Hart, Whom the Dog Hercules pursued--his