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 A verdict of libel was given in one case; and, in the others, the prosecutions were withdrawn, upon the individuals retracting and disavowing the charges, expressing regret that they had been made, and promising to abstain from the like in future.--W.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.
FOOTNOTES:
[969] The original title of the Poem (in MS.) was
_Aira Force,_ _or_ _Sir Eglamore and Elva._
There were no changes of text in the published editions of this poem. The various readings given are from MS. copies of the poem, in Mrs. Wordsworth's handwriting.--ED.
[970] 1835.
'Tis sweet to stand by Lyulph's Tower
MS.
[971] A pleasure-house built by the late Duke of Norfolk upon the banks of Ullswater. FORCE is the word used in the Lake District for Waterfall.--W. W. 1835.
[972] Compare _Airey-Force Valley_--
the brook itself, Old as the hills that feed it from afar, Doth rather deepen than disturb the calm, etc.--ED.
[973] 1835.
To rudest shepherd of the vale The spot seems holy ground;
MS.
[974] 1835.
For he can catch....
MS.
[975] 1835.
Their true love's sanctity--
MS.
[976] 1835.
But in that age ...
MS.
[977] 1835.
... Elva ...
MS.
[978] 1835.
She, too, a happiness ...
MS.
[979] 1835.
... Elva ...
MS.
[980] See _Macbeth_, act IV. scene V.--ED.
[981] 1835.
The knight, Sir Eglamore.
MS.
[982] 1835.
... with living eye,
MS.
[983] 1835.
If Elva's Ghost ...
MS.
[984] 1835.
In plunged the Knight--he strove in vain. Brief words may speak the rest;
MS.
[985] 1835.
... temptation ...
MS.
[986] Compare the _Ode to Duty_, vol. iii. p. 37:--
From vain temptations dost set free--ED.
XLVII
TO CORDELIA M----[987]
HALLSTEADS, ULLSWATER
Not in the mines beyond the western main, You say, Cordelia,[988] was the metal sought, Which a fine skill, of Indian growth, has wrought Into this flexible yet faithful Chain; Nor is it silver of romantic Spain 5 But from our loved Helvellyn's[989] depths was brought, Our own domestic mountain. Thing and thought Mix strangely; trifles light, and partly vain, Can prop, as you have learnt, our nobler being: Yes, Lady, while about your neck is wound 10 (Your casual glance oft meeting) this bright cord, What witchery, for pure gifts of inward seeing, Lurks in it, Memory's Helper, Fancy's Lord, For precious tremblings in your bosom found!
FOOTNOTES:
[987] Cordelia Marshall.--ED.
[988] 1845.
You tell me, Delia!... 1835.
[989] 1845.
You say but from Helvellyn's ... 1835.
XLVIII
"MOST SWEET IT IS WITH UNUPLIFTED EYES"[990]
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes To pace the ground, if path be there or none, While a fair region round the traveller lies[991] Which he forbears again to look upon; Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene, 5 The work of Fancy, or some happy tone Of meditation, slipping in between The beauty coming and the beauty gone.[992] If Thought and Love desert us, from that day Let us break off all commerce with the Muse: 10 With Thought and Love companions of our way, Whate'er the senses take or may refuse, The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews Of inspiration on the humblest lay.
FOOTNOTES:
[990] The title to this sonnet, in the editions previous to 1845, was _Conclusion_.
[991] 1835.
While round the conscious traveller beauty lies
MS.
[992] 1835.
Pleased rather with that soothing after-tone Whose seat is in the mind, occasion's Queen! Else Nature's noblest objects were I ween A yoke endured, a penance undergone.
MS.
1834
The Poems of 1834 include four of the _Evening Voluntaries_, _The Labourer's Noon-day Hymn_, and the stanzas to _The Redbreast_.--ED.
"NOT IN THE LUCID INTERVALS OF LIFE"
Composed 1834.--Published 1835
[The lines following "nor do words" were written with Lord Byron's character as a poet before me, and that of others his contemporaries who wrote under like influences.--I. F.]
One of the "Evening Voluntaries."--ED.
Not in the lucid intervals of life That come but as a curse to party-strife; Not in some hour when Pleasure with a sigh Of languor puts his rosy garland by; Not in the breathing-times of that poor slave 5 Who daily piles up wealth in Mammon's cave-- Is Nature felt, or can be; nor do words, Which practised talent[993] readily affords, Prove that her hand has touched responsive chords; Nor has her gentle beauty power to move 10 With genuine rapture and with fervent love The soul of Genius, if he dare[994] to take Life's rule from passion craved for passion's sake; Untaught that meekness is the cherished bent Of all the truly great and all the innocent. 15
But who _is_ innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise, O Nature! we are thine, Through good and evil thine, in just degree Of rational and manly sympathy. 19 To all that Earth from pensive hearts is stealing, And Heaven is now to gladdened eyes revealing, Add every charm the Universe can show Through every change its aspects undergo-- Care may be respited, but not repealed; No perfect cure grows on that bounded field. 25 Vain is the pleasure, a false calm the peace, If He, through whom alone our conflicts cease, Our virtuous hopes without relapse advance, Come not to speed the Soul's deliverance; To the distempered Intellect refuse 30 His gracious help, or give what we abuse.
FOOTNOTES:
[993] See the Fenwick note.--ED.
[994] 1837.
... dares ... 1835.
BY THE SIDE OF RYDAL MERE
Composed 1834.--Published 1835
One of the "Evening Voluntaries."--ED.
The linnet's warble, sinking towards a close, Hints to the thrush 'tis time for their repose; The shrill-voiced thrush is heedless, and again The monitor revives his own sweet strain; But both will soon be mastered, and the copse 5 Be left as silent as the mountain-tops, Ere some commanding star[995] dismiss to rest The throng of rooks, that now, from twig or nest, (After a steady flight on home-bound wings, And a last game of mazy hoverings 10 Around their ancient grove) with cawing noise Disturb the liquid music's equipoise.
O Nightingale! Who ever heard thy song Might here be moved, till Fancy grows so strong That listening sense is pardonably cheated 15 Where wood or stream by thee was never greeted.[996] Surely, from fairest spots of favoured lands, Were not some gifts withheld by jealous hands, This hour of deepening darkness here would be As a fresh morning for new harmony; 20 And lays as prompt would hail the dawn of Night: A _dawn_ she has both beautiful and bright, When the East kindles with the full moon's light;[997] Not like the rising sun's impatient glow Dazzling the mountains, but an overflow 25 Of solemn splendour, in mutation slow.
Wanderer by spring with gradual progress led, For sway profoundly felt as widely spread; To king, to peasant, to rough sailor, dear, And to the soldier's trumpet-wearied ear; 30 How welcome wouldst thou be to this green Vale Fairer than Tempe![998] Yet, sweet Nightingale! From the warm breeze that bears thee on, alight At will, and stay thy migratory flight; Build, at thy choice, or sing, by pool or fount, 35 Who shall complain, or call thee to account? The wisest, happiest, of our kind are they That ever walk content with Nature's way, God's goodness--measuring bounty as it may; For whom the gravest thought of what they miss, 40 Chastening the fulness of a present bliss, Is with that wholesome office satisfied, While unrepining sadness is allied In thankful bosoms to a modest pride.
FOOTNOTES:
[995] Compare the _Lines, composed at Grasmere_ in 1806 (vol iv. p. 48), when Mr. Fox's death was hourly expected--
Yon star upon the mountain-top Is listening quietly.--ED.
[996] The nightingale is not usually heard in England farther north than the valley of the Trent.
Compare _The Excursion_,