book iii

. l. 953) with the Whip-poor-Will involved a great deal of laborious correspondence years ago. It was a question of real difficulty; and, although the result reached could now be put into two or three lines, I have thought it desirable that the opinions of those who wrote about it, and helped toward the solution, should be recorded. What I print is only a small part of the correspondence that took place.

On the other hand, it would be quite out of place, in a note to the famous passage in the 4th book of 'The Excursion', beginning

... I have seen A curious child applying to his ear

to enter on a discussion as to the extent of Wordsworth's debt--if any--to the author of 'Gebir'. It is quite sufficient to print the relative passage from Landor's poem at the foot of the page.

All the Notes written by Wordsworth himself in his numerous editions will be found in this one, with the date of their first appearance added. Slight textual changes, however, or casual 'addenda', are not indicated, unless they are sufficiently important. Changes in the text of notes have not the same importance to posterity, as changes in the text of poems. In the preface to the Prose Works, reference will be made to Wordsworth's alterations of his text. At present I refer only to his own notes to his Poems. When they were written as footnotes to the page, they remain footnotes still. When they were placed by him as prefaces to his Poems, they retain that place in this edition; but when they were appendix notes--as e.g. in the early editions of "Lyrical Ballads"--they are now made footnotes to the Poems they illustrate. In such a case, however, as the elaborate note to 'The Excursion', containing a reprint of the 'Essay upon Epitaphs'--originally contributed to "The Friend"--it is transferred to the Prose Works, to which it belongs by priority of date; and, as it would be inexpedient to print it twice over, it is omitted from the notes to 'The Excursion'.

As to the place which Notes to a poet's works should occupy, there is no doubt that numerous and lengthy ones--however valuable, or even necessary, by way of illustration,--disfigure the printed page; and some prefer that they should be thrown all together at the end of each volume, or at the close of a series; such as--in Wordsworth's case--"The River Duddon," "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," 'The Prelude', 'The White Doe of Rylstone', etc. I do not think, however, that many care to turn repeatedly to the close of a series of poems, or the end of a volume, to find an explanatory note, helped only by an index number, and when perhaps even that does not meet his eye at the foot of the page. I do not find that even ardent Wordsworth students like to search for notes in "appendices"; and perhaps the more ardent they are the less desirable is it for them thus "to hunt the waterfalls."

I have the greatest admiration for the work which Professor Dowden has done in his edition of Wordsworth; but the 'plan' which he has followed, in his Aldine edition, of giving not only the Fenwick Notes, but all the changes of text introduced by Wordsworth into his successive editions, in additional editorial notes at the end of each volume--to understand which the reader must turn the pages repeatedly, from text to note and note to text, forwards and backwards, at times distractingly--is for practical purposes almost unworkable. The reader who examines Notes 'critically' is ever "one among a thousand," even if they are printed at the foot of the page, and meet the eye readily. If they are consigned to the realm of 'addenda' they will be read by very few, and studied by fewer.

To those who object to Notes being "thrust into view" (as it must be admitted that they are in this edition)--because it disturbs the pleasure of the reader who cares for the poetry of Wordsworth, and for the poetry alone--I may ask how many persons have read the Fenwick Notes, given together in a series, and mixed up heterogeneously with Wordsworth's own Notes to his poems, in comparison with those who have read and enjoyed them in the editions of 1857 and 1863? Professor Dowden justifies his plan of relegating the Fenwick and other notes to the end of each volume of his edition, on the ground that students of the Poet 'must' take the trouble of hunting to and fro for such things. I greatly doubt if many who have read and profited--for they could not but profit--by a perusal of Professor Dowden's work, 'have' taken that trouble, or that future readers of the Aldine edition will take it.

To refer, somewhat more in detail, to the features of this edition.

FIRST. As to the 'Chronological Order' of the Poems.

The chief advantage of a chronological arrangement of the Works of any author--and especially of a poet who himself adopted a different plan--is that it shows us, as nothing else can do, the growth of his own mind, the progressive development of his genius and imaginative power. By such a redistribution of what he wrote we can trace the rise, the culmination, and also--it may be--the decline and fall of his genius. Wordsworth's own arrangement--first adopted in the edition of 1815--was designed by him, with the view of bringing together, in separate classes, those Poems which referred to the same (or similar) subjects, or which were supposed to be the product of the same (or a similar) faculty, irrespective of the date of composition. Thus one group was entitled "Poems of the Fancy," another "Poems of the Imagination," a third "Poems proceeding from Sentiment and Reflection," a fourth "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces," again "Poems on the Naming of Places," "Memorials of Tours," "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," "Miscellaneous Sonnets," etc. The principle which guided him in this was obvious enough. It was, in some respects, a most natural arrangement; and, in now adopting a chronological order, the groups, which he constructed with so much care, are broken up. Probably every author would attach more importance to a classification of his Works, which brought them together under appropriate headings, irrespective of date, than to a method of arrangement which exhibited the growth of his own mind; and it may be taken for granted that posterity would not think highly of any author who attached special value to this latter element. None the less posterity may wish to trace the gradual development of genius, in the imaginative writers of the past, by the help of such a subsequent rearrangement of their Works.

There are difficulties, however, in the way of such a rearrangement, some of which, in Wordsworth's case, cannot be entirely surmounted. In the case of itinerary Sonnets, referring to the same subject, the dismemberment of a series--carefully arranged by their author--seems to be specially unnatural. But Wordsworth himself sanctioned the principle. If there was a fitness in collecting all his sonnets in one volume in the year 1838, out of deference to the wishes of his friends, in order that these poems might be "brought under the eye at once"--thus removing them from their original places, in his collected works--it seems equally fitting now to rearrange them chronologically, as far as it is possible to do so. It will be seen that it is not always possible.

Then, there is the case of two Poems following each other, in Wordsworth's own arrangement, by natural affinity; such as the 'Epistle to Sir George Beaumont', written in 1811, which in almost all existing editions is followed by the Poem written in 1841, and entitled, 'Upon perusing the foregoing Epistle thirty years after its composition'; or, the dedication to 'The White Doe of Rylstone', written in April 1815, while the Poem itself was written in 1807. To separate these Poems seems unnatural; and, as it would be inadmissible to print the second of the two twice over--once as a sequel to the first poem, and again in its chronological place--adherence to the latter plan has its obvious disadvantage in the case of these poems.

Mr. Aubrey de Vere is very desirous that I should arrange all the "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty" together in series, as Wordsworth left them, "on the principle that, though the order of publication should as a rule be the order of composition in poetry, all rules require, as well as admit of, exceptions." As I have the greatest respect for the judgment of such an authority as Mr. de Vere, I may explain that I only venture to differ from him because there are seventy-four Poems--including the sonnets and odes--in this series, and because they cover a period ranging from 1802 to 1815. I am glad, however, that many of these sonnets can be printed together, especially the earlier ones of 1802.

After carefully weighing every consideration, it has seemed to me desirable to adopt the chronological arrangement in this particular edition; in which an attempt is made to trace the growth of Wordsworth's genius, as it is unfolded in his successive works. His own arrangement of his Poems will always possess a special interest and value; and it is not likely ever to be entirely superseded in subsequent issues of his Works. The editors and publishers of the future may possibly prefer it to the plan now adopted, and it will commend itself to many readers from the mere fact that 'it was Wordsworth's own'; but in an edition such as the present--which is meant to supply material for the study of the Poet to those who may not possess, or have access to, the earlier and rarer editions--no method of arrangement can be so good as the chronological one. Its importance will be obvious after several volumes are published, when the point referred to above--viz. the evolution of the poet's genius--will be shown by the very sequence of the subjects chosen, and their method of treatment from year to year.

The date of the composition of Wordsworth's Poems cannot always be ascertained with accuracy: and to get at the chronological order, it is not sufficient to take up his earlier volumes, and thereafter to note the additions made in subsequent ones. We now know (approximately) when each poem was first published; although, in some instances, they appeared in newspapers and magazines, and in many cases publication was long after the date of composition. For example, 'Guilt and Sorrow; or, Incidents upon Salisbury Plain'--written in the years 1791-94--was not published 'in extenso' till 1842. The tragedy of 'The Borderers', composed in 1795-96, was also first published in 1842. 'The Prelude'--"commenced in the beginning of the year 1799, and completed in the summer of 1805"--was published posthumously in 1850: and some unpublished poems--both "of early and late years"--were first issued in 1886. A poem was frequently kept back, from some doubt as to its worth, or from a wish to alter and amend it. Of the five or six hundred sonnets that he wrote, Wordsworth said "Most of them were frequently re-touched; and, not a few, laboriously." Some poems were almost entirely recast; and occasionally fugitive verses were withheld from publication for a time, because it was hoped that they would subsequently form part of a larger whole.

In the case of many of the poems, we are left to conjecture the date of composition, although we are seldom without some clue to it. The Fenwick Notes are a great assistance in determining the chronology. These notes--which will be afterwards more fully referred to--were dictated by Wordsworth to Miss Fenwick in the year 1843; but, at that time, his memory could not be absolutely trusted as to dates; and in some instances we know it to have been at fault. For example, he said of 'The Old Cumberland Beggar' that it was "written at Racedown and Alfoxden in my twenty-third year." Now, he went to Racedown in the autumn of 1795, when he was twenty-five years old; and to Alfoxden, in the autumn of 1797, when twenty-seven. Again, the poem 'Rural Architecture' is put down in the Fenwick note as "written at Townend in 1801"; but it had been published in 1800, in the second edition of "Lyrical Ballads." Similarly Wordsworth gave the dates "1801 or 1802" for 'The Reverie of Poor Susan', which had also appeared in "Lyrical Ballads," 1800.

Wordsworth's memory was not always to be trusted even when he was speaking of a group of his own Poems. For example, in the edition of 1807, there is a short series described thus, "Poems, composed during a tour, chiefly on foot." They are numbered 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Now, one would naturally suppose that all the poems, in this set of five, were composed during the same pedestrian tour, and that they all referred to the same time. But the series contains 'Alice Fell' (1802), 'Beggars' (1802), 'To a Sky-Lark' (1805), and 'Resolution and Independence' (1802).

Much more valuable than the Fenwick notes--for a certain portion of Wordsworth's life--is his sister Dorothy's Journal. The mistakes in the former can frequently be corrected from the minutely kept diary of those early years, when the brother and sister lived together at Grasmere. The whole of that Journal, so far as it is desirable to print it for posterity, will be given in a subsequent volume.

Long before the publication of the Fenwick notes, Wordsworth himself supplied some data for a chronological arrangement of his Works. In the table of contents, prefixed to the first collected edition of 1815, in two volumes,--and also to the second collected edition of 1820, in four volumes,--there are two parallel columns: one giving the date of composition, and the other that of publication. There are numerous blanks in the former column, which was the only important one; as the year of publication could be ascertained from the editions themselves. Sometimes the date is given vaguely; as in the case of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty," where the note runs, "from the year 1807 to 1813." At other times, the entry of the year of publication is inaccurate; for example, the 'Inscription for the spot where the Hermitage stood on St. Herbert's Island, Derwentwater', is put down as belonging to the year 1807; but this poem does not occur in the volumes of 1807, but in the second volume of "Lyrical Ballads" (1800). It will thus be seen that it is only by comparing Wordsworth's own lists of the years to which his Poems belong, with the contents of the several editions of his Works, with the Fenwick Notes, and with his sister's Journal, that we can approximately reconstruct the true chronology. To these sources of information must be added the internal evidence of the Poems themselves, incidental references in letters to friends, and stray hints gathered from various quarters.

Many new sources of information as to the date of the composition of the Poems became known to me during the publication of my previous edition, and after its issue; the most important being the Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth. These discoveries showed that my chronological table of 1882--although then, relatively, "up to date"--was incomplete. The tables constructed by Mr. Tutin and by Professor Dowden are both more accurate than it was. It is impossible to attain to finality in such a matter; and several facts, afterwards discovered, and mentioned in the later volumes of my previous edition, have been used against the conclusions come to in the earlier ones. I have thus supplied the feathers for a few subsequent critical arrows. The shots have not been unkindly ones; and I am glad of the result, viz. that our knowledge of the dates--both as to the composition and first publication of the poems --is now much more exact than before. When a conjectural one is given in this edition, the fact is always mentioned.

This chronological method of arrangement, however, has its limits. It is not possible always to adopt it: nor is it invariably 'necessary', even in order to obtain a true view of the growth of Wordsworth's mind. In this--as in so many other things--wisdom lies in the avoidance of extremes; the extreme of rigid fidelity to the order of time on the one hand, and the extreme of an irrational departure from it on the other. While an effort has been made to discover the exact order of the composition of the poems--and this is shown, not only in the Chronological Table, but at the beginning of each separate poem--it has been considered expedient to depart from that order in printing some of the poems. In certain cases a poem was begun and laid aside, and again resumed at intervals; and it is difficult to know to what year the larger part of it should be assigned. When we know the date at which a poem was commenced, and that it was finished "long afterwards," but have no clue as to the year, it is assigned to the year in which it was begun. For example, the 'Address to Kilchurn Castle' was begun in 1803, but only the first three lines were written then. Wordsworth tells us that "the rest was added many years after," but when we know not; and the poem was not published till 1827. In such a case, it is placed in this edition as if it belonged chronologically to 1803, and retains its place in the series of Poems which memorialise the Tour in Scotland of that year. On a similar principle, 'The Highland Girl' is placed in the same series; although Dorothy Wordsworth tells us, in her Journal of the Tour, that it was composed "not long after our return from Scotland"; and 'Glen Almain'--although written afterwards at Rydal--retains its published place in the memorial group. Again the 'Departure from the Vale of Grasmere, August 1803', is prefixed to the same series; although it was not written till 1811, and first published in 1827. To give symmetry to such a Series, it is necessary to depart from the exact chronological order--the departure being duly indicated.

On the same principle I have followed the 'Address to the Scholars of the Village School of----', by its natural sequel--'By the Side of the Grave some Years after', the date of the composition of which is unknown: and the 'Epistle to Sir George Beaumont' (1811) is followed by the later Lines, to which Wordsworth gave the most prosaic title--he was often infelicitous in his titles--'Upon perusing the foregoing Epistle thirty years after its composition'. A like remark applies to the poem 'Beggars', which is followed by its own 'Sequel', although the order of date is disturbed; while all the "Epitaphs," translated from Chiabrera, are printed together.

It is manifestly appropriate that the poems belonging to a series--such as the "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," or those referring to the "Duddon"--should be brought together, as Wordsworth finally arranged them; even although we may be aware that some of them were written subsequently, and placed in the middle of the series. The sonnets referring to "Aspects of Christianity in America"--inserted in the 1845 and 1849-50 editions of the collected Works--are found in no previous edition or version of the "Ecclesiastical Sonnets." These, along with some others on the Offices of the English Liturgy, were suggested to Wordsworth by an American prelate, Bishop Doane, and by Professor Henry Reed; [2] but we do not know in what year they were written. The "Ecclesiastical Sonnets"--first called "Ecclesiastical Sketches"--were written in the years 1820-22. The above additions to them appeared twenty-five years afterwards; but they ought manifestly to retain their place, as arranged by Wordsworth in the edition of 1845. The case is much the same with regard to the "Duddon Sonnets." They were first published in 1820: but No. xiv. beginning:

O mountain Stream! the Shepherd and his Cot,

was written in the year 1806, and appears in the edition of 1807. This sonnet will be printed in the series to which it belongs, and not in its chronological place. I think it would be equally unjust to remove it from the group--in which it helps to form a unity--and to print it twice over. [3] On the other hand, the series of "Poems composed during a Tour in Scotland, and on the English Border, in the Autumn of 1831"--and first published in the year 1835, in the volume entitled "Yarrow Revisited, and Other Poems"--contains two, which Wordsworth himself tells us were composed earlier; and there is no reason why these poems should not be restored to their chronological place. The series of itinerary sonnets, published along with them in the Yarrow volume of 1835, is the record of another Scottish tour, taken in the year 1833; and Wordsworth says of them that they were "composed 'or suggested' during a tour in the summer of 1833." We cannot now discover which of them were written during the tour, and which at Rydal Mount after his return; but it is obvious that they should be printed in the order in which they were left by him, in 1835. It may be noted that almost all the "Evening Voluntaries" belong to these years--1832 to 1835--when the author was from sixty-two to sixty-five years of age.

Wordsworth's habit of revision may perhaps explain the mistakes into which he occasionally fell as to the dates of his Poems, and the difficulty of reconciling what he says, as to the year of composition, with the date assigned by his sister in her Journal. When he says "written in 1801, or 1802," he may be referring to the last revision which he gave to his work. Certain it is, however, that he sometimes gave a date for the composition, which was subsequent to the publication of the poem in question.

In the case of those poems to which no date was attached, I have tried to find a clue by which to fix an approximate one. Obviously, it would not do to place all the undated poems in a class by themselves. Such an arrangement would be thoroughly artificial; and, while we are in many instances left to conjecture, we can always say that such and such a poem was composed not later than a particular year. When the precise date is undiscoverable, I have thought it best to place the poem in or immediately before the year in which it was first published.

Poems which were several years in process of composition, having been laid aside, and taken up repeatedly; 'e.g. The Prelude', which was composed between the years 1799 and 1805--are placed in the year in which they were finished. Disputable questions as to the date of any poem are dealt with in the editorial note prefixed or appended to it.

There is one Poem which I have intentionally placed out of its chronological place, viz. the 'Ode, Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood'. It was written at intervals from 1803 to 1806, and was first published in the edition of 1807, where it stood at the end of the second volume. In every subsequent edition of the collected Works--1815 to 1850--it closed the groups of poems; 'The Excursion' only following it, in a volume of its own. This was an arrangement made by Wordsworth, of set purpose, and steadily adhered to--the 'Ode' forming as it were the High Altar of his poetic Cathedral. As he wished it to retain that place in subsequent editions of his Works, it retains it in this one.

Mr. Arnold's arrangement of the Poems, in his volume of Selections [4], is extremely interesting and valuable; but, as to the method of grouping adopted, I am not sure that it is better than Wordsworth's own. As a descriptive title, "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection" is quite as good as "Poems akin to the Antique," and "Poems of the Fancy" quite as appropriate as "Poems of Ballad Form."

Wordsworth's arrangement of his Poems in groups was psychologically very interesting; but it is open to many objections. Unfortunately Wordsworth was not himself consistent--in the various editions issued by himself--either in the class into which he relegated each poem, or the order in which he placed it there. There is tantalising topsy-turvyism in this, so that an editor who adopts it is almost compelled to select Wordsworth's latest grouping, which was not always his best.

Sir William Rowan Hamilton wrote to Mr. Aubrey de Vere in 1835 that Dora Wordsworth told him that her father "was sometimes at a loss whether to refer her to the 'Poems of the Imagination,' or the 'Poems of the Fancy,' for some particular passage." Aubrey de Vere himself considered Wordsworth's arrangement as "a parade of system," and wrote of it, "I cannot help thinking that in it, he mistakes classification for method." [5] I confess that it is often difficult to see why some of the poems were assigned by their author to the realm of the "Fancy," the "Imagination," and "Sentiment and Reflection" respectively. In a note to 'The Horn of Egremont Castle' (edition 1815) Wordsworth speaks of it as "referring to the imagination," rather than as being "produced by it"; and says that he would not have placed it amongst his "Poems of the Imagination," "but to avoid a needless multiplication of classes"; and in the editions of 1827 and 1832 he actually included the great 'Ode' on Immortality among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Poems"! As late as 27th September 1845, he wrote to Professor Henry Reed,

"Following your example" (i. e. the example set in Reed's American edition of the Poems), "I have greatly extended the class entitled 'Poems of the Imagination,' thinking as you must have done that, if Imagination were predominant in the class, it was not indispensable that it should pervade every poem which it contained. Limiting the class as I had done before, seemed to imply, and to the uncandid or observing did so, that the faculty, which is the 'primum mobile' in poetry, had little to do, in the estimation of the author, with pieces not arranged under that head. I therefore feel much obliged to you for suggesting by your practice the plan which I have adopted."

Could anything show more explicitly than this that Wordsworth was not perfectly satisfied with his own artificial groups? Professor Reed, in his American edition of 1837, however, acted on Wordsworth's expressed intention of distributing the contents of "Yarrow Revisited, and Other Poems" amongst the classes. He tells us that he "interspersed the contents of this volume among the Poems already arranged" by Wordsworth. [6]

It may also be mentioned that not only members of his own household, but many of Wordsworth's friends--notably Charles Lamb--expressed a preference for a different arrangement of his Poems from that which he had adopted.

SECOND The various Readings, or variations of text, made by Wordsworth during his lifetime, or written by him on copies of his Poems, or discovered in MS. letters, from himself, or his sister, or his wife, are given in footnotes in this edition. Few English poets changed their text more frequently, or with more fastidiousness, than Wordsworth did. He did not always alter it for the better. Every alteration however, which has been discovered by me, whether for the better or for the worse, is here printed in full. We have thus a record of the fluctuations of his own mind as to the form in which he wished his Poems to appear; and this record casts considerable light on the development of his genius. [7]

A knowledge of these changes of text can only be obtained in one or other of two ways. Either the reader must have access to all the thirty-two editions of Poems, the publication of which Wordsworth personally supervised; or, he must have all the changes in the successive editions, exhibited in the form of footnotes, and appended to the particular text that is selected and printed in the body of the work. It is extremely difficult--in some cases quite impossible--to obtain the early editions. The great public libraries of the country do not possess them all.[8] It is therefore necessary to fall back upon the latter plan, which seems the only one by which a knowledge of the changes of the text can be made accessible, either to the general reader, or to the special student of English Poetry.

The text which--after much consideration--I have resolved to place throughout, in the body of the work, is Wordsworth's own final 'textus receptus', i.e. the text of 1849-50, reproduced in the posthumous edition of 1857; [9] and since opinion will doubtless differ as to the wisdom of this selection, it may be desirable to state at some length the reasons which have led me to adopt it.

There are only three possible courses open to an editor, who wishes to give--along with the text selected--all the various readings chronologically arranged as footnotes. Either, 1st, the earliest text may be taken, or 2nd, the latest may be chosen, or 3rd, the text may be selected from different editions, so as to present each poem in its best state (according to the judgment of the editor), in whatever edition it is found. A composite text, made up from two or more editions, would be inadmissible.

Now, most persons who have studied the subject know that Wordsworth's best text is to be found, in one poem in its earliest edition, in another in its latest, and in a third in some intermediate edition. I cannot agree either with the statement that he always altered for the worse, or that he always altered for the better. His critical judgment was not nearly so unerring in this respect as Coleridge's was, or as Tennyson's has been. It may be difficult, therefore, to assign an altogether satisfactory reason for adopting either the earliest or the latest text; and at first sight, the remaining alternative plan may seem the wisest of the three. There are indeed difficulties in the way of the adoption of any one of the methods suggested; and as I adopt the latest text--not because it is always intrinsically the best, but on other grounds to be immediately stated--it may clear the way, if reference be made in the first instance to the others, and to the reasons for abandoning them.

As to a selection of the text from various editions, this would doubtless be the best plan, were it a practicable one; and perhaps it may be attainable some day. But Wordsworth is as yet too near us for such an editorial treatment of his Works to be successful. The fundamental objection to it is that scarcely two minds--even among the most competent of contemporary judges--will agree as to what the best text is. An edition arranged on this principle could not possibly be acceptable to more than a few persons. Of course no arrangement of any kind can escape adverse criticism: it would be most unfortunate if it did. But this particular edition would fail in its main purpose, if questions of individual taste were made primary, and not secondary; and an arrangement, which gave scope for the arbitrary selection of

## particular texts,--according to the wisdom, or the want of wisdom, of

the editor,--would deservedly meet with severe criticism in many quarters. Besides, such a method of arrangement would not indicate the growth of the Poet's mind, and the development of his genius. If an editor wished to indicate his own opinion of the best text for each poem--under the idea that his judgment might be of some use to other people--it would be wiser to do so by means of some mark or marginal note, than by printing his selected text in the main body of the work. He could thus at once preserve the chronological order of the readings, indicate his own preference, and leave it to others to select what they preferred. Besides, the compiler of such an edition would often find himself in doubt as to what the best text really was, the merit of the different readings being sometimes almost equal, or very nearly balanced; and, were he to endeavour to get out of the difficulty by obtaining the judgments of literary men, or even of contemporary poets, he would find that their opinions would in most cases be dissimilar, if they did not openly conflict. Those who cannot come to a final decision as to their own text would not be likely to agree as to the merits of

## particular readings in the poems of their predecessors. Unanimity of

opinion on this point is indeed quite unattainable.

Nevertheless, it would be easy for an editor to show the unfortunate result of keeping rigorously either to the latest or to the earliest text of Wordsworth. If, on the one hand, the latest were taken, it could be shown that many of the changes introduced into it were for the worse, and some of them very decidedly so. For example, in the poem 'To a Skylark'--composed in 1825--the second verse, retained in the editions of 1827, 1832, 1836, and 1843, was unaccountably dropped out in the editions of 1845 and 1849. The following is the complete poem of 1825, as published in 1827.

Ethereal Minstrel! Pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still!

To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring Warbler! that love-prompted strain, ('Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond) Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain: Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing All independent of the leafy spring.

Leave to the Nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with rapture more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!

There is no doubt that the first and third stanzas are the finest, and some may respect the judgment that cut down the Poem by the removal of its second verse: but others will say, if it was right that such a verse should be removed, why were many others of questionable merit allowed to remain? Why was such a poem as 'The Glowworm', of the edition of 1807, never republished; while 'The Waterfall and the Eglantine', and 'To the Spade of a Friend', were retained? To give one other illustration, where a score are possible. In the sonnet, belonging to the year 1807, beginning:

"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con,"

we find, in the latest text, the lines--first adopted in 1827:

I stood, of simple shame the blushing Thrall; So narrow seemed the brooks, the fields so small,

while the early edition of 1807 contains the far happier lines:

To see the Trees, which I had thought so tall, Mere dwarfs; the Brooks so narrow, Fields so small.

On the other hand, if the earliest text be invariably retained, some of the best poems will be spoiled (or the improvements lost), since Wordsworth did usually alter for the better. For example, few persons will doubt that the form in which the second stanza of the poem 'To the Cuckoo' (written in 1802) appeared in 1845, is an improvement on all its predecessors. I give the readings of 1807, 1815, 1820, 1827, and 1845.

While I am lying on the grass, I hear thy restless shout: From hill to hill it seems to pass, About, and all about! 1807.

While I am lying on the grass, Thy loud note smites my ear!-- From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off and near! 1815.

While I am lying on the grass, Thy loud note smites my ear! It seems to fill the whole air's space, At once far off and near. 1820.

While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, That seems to fill the whole air's space, As loud far off as near. 1827.

While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off, and near. 1845.

Similarly, in each of the three poems 'To the Daisy', composed in 1802, and in the 'Afterthought, to the Duddon', the alterations introduced into the latest editions were all improvements upon the early version.

It might be urged that these considerations would warrant the interference of an editor, and justify him in selecting the text which he thought the best upon the whole; but this must be left to posterity. When editors can escape the bias of contemporary thought and feeling, when their judgments are refined by distance and mellowed by the new literary standards of the intervening years,--when in fact Wordsworth is as far away from his critics as Shakespeare now is--it may be possible to adjust a final text. But the task is beyond the power of the present generation.

It may farther be urged that if this reasoning be valid,--and if, for the present, one text must be retained uniformly throughout,--the natural plan is to take the earliest, and not the latest; and this has some recommendations. It seems more simple, more natural, and certainly the easiest. We have a natural sequence, if we begin with the earliest and go on to the latest readings. Then, all the readers of Wordsworth, who care to possess or to consult the present edition, will doubtless possess one or other of the complete copies of his works, which contain his final text; while probably not one in twenty have ever seen the first edition of any of his poems, with the exception of 'The Prelude'. It is true that if the reader turns to a footnote to compare the versions of different years, while he is reading for the sake of the poetry, he will be so distracted that the effect of the poem as a whole will be entirely lost; because the critical spirit, which judges of the text, works apart from the spirit of sympathetic appreciation, in which all poetry should be read. But it is not necessary to turn to the footnotes, and to mark what may be called the literary growth of a poem, while it is being read for its own sake: and these notes are printed in smaller type, so as not to obtrude themselves on the eye of the reader.

Against the adoption of the earlier text, there is this fatal objection, that if it is to be done at all, it must be done throughout; and, in the earliest poems Wordsworth wrote--viz. 'An Evening Walk' and 'Descriptive Sketches',--the subsequent alterations almost amounted to a cancelling of the earlier version. His changes were all, or almost all, unmistakably for the better. Indeed, there was little in these works--in the form in which they first appeared--to lead to the belief that an original poet had arisen in England. It is true that Coleridge saw in them the signs of the dawn of a new era, and wrote thus of 'Descriptive Sketches', before he knew its author, "Seldom, if ever, was the emergence of a great and original poetic genius above the literary horizon more evidently announced." Nevertheless the earliest text of these 'Sketches' is, in many places, so artificial, prosaic, and dull, that its reproduction (except as an appendix, or in the form of footnotes) would be an injustice to Wordsworth. [10] On the other hand, the passages subsequently cancelled are so numerous, and so long, that if placed in footnotes the latter would in some instances be more extensive than the text. The quarto of 1793 will therefore be reprinted in full as an Appendix to the first volume of this edition. The 'School Exercise written at Hawkshead' in the poet's fourteenth year, will be found in vol. viii. Passing over these juvenile efforts, there are poems--such as 'Guilt and Sorrow', 'Peter Bell', and many others--in which the earlier text is an inferior one, which was either corrected or abandoned by Wordsworth in his maturer years. It would be a conspicuous blunder to print--in the place of honour,--the crude original which was afterwards repudiated by its author.

It may be remembered, in connection with Wordsworth's text, that he himself said, "I am for the most part uncertain about my success in altering poems; but, in this case" (he is speaking of an insertion) "I am sure I have produced a great improvement." ('Memoirs of Wordsworth', vol. i. p. 174.) [11] Again, in writing to Mr. Dyce in 1830, "You know what importance I attach to following strictly the last copy of the text of an author."

It is also worthy of note that the study of their chronology casts some light on the changes which the poems underwent. The second edition of "Lyrical Ballads" appeared in 1800. In that edition the text of 1798 is scarcely altered: but, in the year in which it was published, Wordsworth was engrossed with his settlement at Grasmere; and, in the springtime of creative work, he probably never thought of revising his earlier pieces. In the year 1800, he composed at least twenty-five new poems. The third edition of "Lyrical Ballads" appeared in 1802; and during that year he wrote forty-three new poems, many of them amongst the most perfect of his Lyrics. His critical instinct had become much more delicate since 1800: and it is not surprising to find--as we do find--that between the text of the "Lyrical Ballads" of 1800, and that of 1802, there are many important variations. This is seen, for example, in the way in which he dealt with 'The Female Vagrant', which is altered throughout. Its early redundance is pruned away; and, in many instances, the final text, sanctioned in 1845, had been adopted in 1803. Without going into further detail, it is sufficient to remark that in the year 1803 Wordsworth's critical faculty, the faculty of censorship, had developed almost step for step with the creative originality of his genius. In that prolific year, when week by week, almost day by day, fresh poems were thrown off with marvellous facility--as we see from his sister's Journal--he had become a severe, if not a fastidious, critic of his own earlier work. A further explanation of the absence of critical revision, in the edition of 1800, may be found in the fact that during that year Wordsworth was engaged in writing the "Preface" to his Poems; which dealt, in so remarkable a manner, with the nature of Poetry in general, and with his own theory of it in particular.

A further reference to the 'Evening Walk' will illustrate Wordsworth's way of dealing with his earlier text in his later editions. This Poem showed from the first a minute observation of Nature--not only in her external form and colour, but also in her suggestiveness--though not in her symbolism; and we also find the same transition from Nature to Man, the same interest in rural life, and the same lingering over its incidents that we see in his maturer poems. Nevertheless, there is much that is conventional in the first edition of 'An Evening Walk', published in 1793. I need only mention, as a sample, the use of the phrase "silent tides" to describe the waters of a lake. When this poem was revised, in the year 1815--with a view to its insertion in the first edition of the collected works--Wordsworth merely omitted large portions of it, and some of its best passages were struck out. He scarcely amended the text at all. In 1820, however, he pruned and improved it throughout; so that between this poem, as recast in 1820 (and reproduced almost 'verbatim' in the next two editions of 1827 and 1832), and his happiest descriptions of Nature in his most inspired moods, there is no great difference. But, in 1836, he altered it still further in detail; and in that state practically left it, apparently not caring to revise it further. In the edition of 1845, however, there are several changes. So far as I can judge, there is one alteration for the worse, and one only. The reading, in the edition of 1793,

In these lone vales, if aught of faith may claim, Thin silver hairs, and ancient hamlet fame; When up the hills, as now, retreats the light, Strange apparitions mock the village sight,

is better than that finally adopted,

In these secluded vales, if village fame, Confirmed by hoary hairs, belief may claim; When up the hills, as now, retired the light, Strange apparitions mocked the shepherd's sight.

It will be seen, however, from the changes made in the text of this poem, how Wordsworth's observation of Nature developed, how thoroughly dissatisfied he soon became with everything conventional, and discarded every image not drawn directly or at first hand from Nature.

The text adopted in the present edition is, for the reasons stated, that which was finally sanctioned by Wordsworth himself, in the last edition of his Poems (1849-50). The earlier readings, occurring in previous editions, are given in footnotes; and it may be desirable to explain the way in which these are arranged. It will be seen that whenever the text has been changed a date is given in the footnote, 'before' the other readings are added. This date, which accompanies the reference number of the footnote, indicates the year in which the reading finally retained was first adopted by Wordsworth. The earlier readings then follow, in chronological order, with the year to which they belong; [12] and it is in every case to be assumed that the last of the changes indicated was continued in all subsequent editions of the works. No direct information is given as to how long a particular reading was retained, or through how many editions it ran. It is to be assumed, however, that it was retained in all intermediate editions till the next change of text is stated. It would encumber the notes with too many figures if, in every instance in which a change was made, the corresponding state of the text in all the other editions was indicated. But if no new reading follows the text quoted, it is to be taken for granted that the reading in question was continued in every subsequent edition, until the date which accompanies the reference figure.

Two illustrations will make this clear. The first is a case in which the text was only altered once, the second an instance in which it was altered six times. In the 'Evening Walk' the following lines occur--

The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted flocks.

And the footnote is as follows:

1836. That, barking busy 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where he points, the intercepted flocks; 1793.

In the light of what has been said above, and by reference to the Bibliography, it will be seen from these two dates that the original text of 1793--given in the footnote--was continued in the editions of 1820, 1827, and 1832 (it was omitted from the "extract" of 1815); that it was changed in the year 1836; and that this reading was retained in the editions of 1843, 1845, and 1849.

Again, in 'Simon Lee', the lines occur:

But what to them avails the land Which he can till no longer?

And the following are the footnotes:

1845. But what avails the land to them, Which they can till no longer? 1798.

"But what," saith he, "avails the land, Which I can till no longer? 1827.

But what avails it now, the land Which he can till no longer? 1832.

'Tis his, but what avails the land Which he can till no longer? 1837.

The time, alas! is come when he Can till the land no longer. 1840.

The time is also come when he Can till the land no longer. C.

From this it will be seen that the text adopted in the first edition of "Lyrical Ballads" in 1798 was retained in the editions of 1800, 1802, 1805, 1815, and 1820; that it was altered in each of the editions of 1827, 1832, 1837, 1840, as also in the MS. readings in Lord Coleridge's copy of the works, and in the edition of 1845; and that the version of 1845 was retained in the edition of 1849-50. It should be added that when a verse, or stanza, or line--occurring in one or other of the earlier editions--was omitted from that of 1849, the footnote simply contains the extract along with the date of the year or years in which it occurs; and that, in such cases, the date does not follow the reference number of the footnote, but is placed for obvious reasons at the end of the extract.

The same thing is true of 'Descriptive Sketches'. In the year 1827, there were scarcely any alterations made on the text of the poem, as printed in 1820; still fewer were added in 1832; but for the edition of 1836 the whole was virtually rewritten, and in that state it was finally left, although a few significant changes were made in 1845.

Slight changes of spelling which occur in the successive editions, are not mentioned. When, however, the change is one of transposition, although the text remains unaltered,--as is largely the case in 'Simon Lee', for example--it is always indicated.

It will be further observed that, at the beginning of every poem, two dates are given; the first, on the left-hand side, is the date of composition; the second, on the right-hand side, is the date of the first publication. In what class the poem first appeared, and the changes (if any) which subsequently occurred in its title, are mentioned in the note appended.

THIRD. In the present edition several suggested changes of text, which were written by Wordsworth on the margin of a copy of his edition of 1836-7, which he kept beside him at Rydal Mount, are published. These MS. notes seem to have been written by himself, or dictated to others, at intervals between the years 1836 and 1850, and they are thus a record of passing thoughts, or "moods of his own mind," during these years. Some of these were afterwards introduced into the editions of 1842, 1846, and 1849; others were not made use of. The latter have now a value of their own, as indicating certain new phases of thought and feeling, in Wordsworth's later years. I owe my knowledge of them, and the permission to use them, to the kindness of the late Chief Justice of England, Lord Coleridge. The following is an extract from a letter from him:

"FOX GHYLL, AMBLESIDE, '4th October 1881'.

"I have been long intending to write you as to the manuscript notes and alterations in Wordsworth's poems, which you have had the opportunity of seeing, and, so far as you thought fit, of using for your edition. They came into my possession in this way. I saw them advertised in a catalogue which was sent me, and at my request the book was very courteously forwarded to me for my inspection. It appeared to me of sufficient interest and value to induce me to buy it; and I accordingly became the purchaser.

"It is a copy of the edition in six volumes, the publication of which began in the year 1836; and of the volume containing the collected sonnets, which was afterwards printed uniformly with that edition. It appears to have been the copy which Wordsworth himself used for correcting, altering, and adding to the poems contained in it. As you have seen, in some of the poems the Alterations are very large, amounting sometimes to a complete rewriting of considerable passages. Many of these alterations have been printed in subsequent editions; some have not; two or three small poems, as far as I know, have not been hitherto published. Much of the writing is Wordsworth's own; but perhaps the larger portion is the hand-writing of others, one or more, not familiar to me as Wordsworth's is.

"How the volumes came to be sold I do not know.... Such as they are, and whatever be their interest or value, you are, as far as I am concerned, heartily welcome to them; and I shall be glad indeed if they add in the least degree to make your edition more worthy of the great man for whom my admiration grows every day I live, and my deep gratitude to whom will cease only with my life, and my reason."

This precious copy of the edition of 1836-7 is now the property of Lady Coleridge. I re-examined it in 1894, and added several readings, which I had omitted to note twelve years ago, when Lord Coleridge first showed it to me. I should add that, since the issue of the volumes of 1882-6, many other MS. copies of individual Poems have come under my notice; and that every important variation of text in them is incorporated in this edition.

As it is impossible to discover the precise year in which the suggested alterations of text were written by Wordsworth, on the margin of the edition of 1836, they will be indicated, wherever they occur, by the initial letter C. Comparatively few changes occur in the poems of early years.

A copy of the 1814 (quarto) edition of 'The Excursion', now in the possession of a grandson of the poet, the Rev. John Wordsworth, Gosforth Rectory, Cumberland--which was the copy Wordsworth kept at Rydal Mount for annotation and correction, much in the same way as he kept the edition of 1836-7--has also been kindly sent to me by its present owner, for examination and use in this edition; and, in it, I have found some additional readings.

FOURTH. In the present edition all the Notes and Memoranda, explanatory of the Poems, which Wordsworth dictated to Miss Fenwick, are given in full. Miss Fenwick lived much at Rydal Mount, during the later years of the Poet's life; and it is to their friendship, and to her inducing Wordsworth to dictate these Notes, that we owe most of the information we possess, as to the occasions and circumstances under which his poems were composed. These notes were first made use of--although only in a fragmentary manner--by the late Bishop of Lincoln, in the 'Memoirs' of his uncle. They were afterwards incorporated in full in the edition of 1857, issued by Mr. Moxon, under the direction of Mr. Carter; and in the centenary edition. They were subsequently printed in 'The Prose Works of Wordsworth', edited by Dr. Grosart; and in my edition of 1882-6. I am uncertain whether it was the original MS., written by Miss Fenwick, or the copy of it afterwards taken for Miss Quillinan, to which Dr. Grosart had access. The text of these Notes, as printed in the edition of 1857, is certainly (in very many cases) widely different from what is given in 'The Prose Works' of 1876. I have made many corrections--from the MS. which I have examined with care--of errors which exist in all previously printed copies of these Notes, including my own.

What appears in this volume is printed from a MS., which Miss Quillinan gave me to examine and copy, and which she assured me was the original one. The proper place for these Fenwick Notes is doubtless that which was assigned to them by the editor of 1857, viz. before the poems which they respectively illustrate.

FIFTH. Topographical Notes, explanatory of the allusions made by Wordsworth to the localities in the English Lake District, and elsewhere, are added throughout the volumes. This has already been attempted to some extent by several writers, but a good deal more remains to be done; and I may repeat what I wrote on this subject, in 1878.

Many of Wordsworth's allusions to Place are obscure, and the exact localities difficult to identify. It is doubtful if he cared whether they could be afterwards traced out or not; and in reference to one

## particular rock, referred to in the "Poems on the Naming of Places,"

when asked by a friend to localise it, he declined; replying to the question, "Yes, that--or any other that will suit!" There is no doubt that, in many instances, his allusions to place are intentionally vague; and, in some of his most realistic passages, he avowedly weaves together a description of localities remote from each other.

It is true that "Poems of Places" are not meant to be photographs; and were they simply to reproduce the features of a particular district, and be an exact transcript of reality, they would be literary photographs, and not poems. Poetry cannot, in the nature of things, be a mere register of phenomena appealing to the eye or the ear. No imaginative writer, however, in the whole range of English Literature, is so peculiarly identified with locality as Wordsworth is; and there is not one on the roll of poets, the appreciation of whose writings is more aided by an intimate knowledge of the district in which he lived. The wish to be able to identify his allusions to those places, which he so specially interpreted, is natural to every one who has ever felt the spell of his genius; and it is indispensable to all who would know the special charm of a region, which he described as "a national property," and of which he, beyond all other men, may be said to have effected the literary "conveyance" to posterity.

But it has been asked--and will doubtless be asked again--what is the use of a minute identification of all these places? Is not the general fact that Wordsworth described this district of mountain, vale, and mere, sufficient, without any further attempt at localisation? The question is more important, and has wider bearings, than appears upon the surface.

It must be admitted, on the one hand, that the discovery of the precise point in every local allusion is not necessary to an understanding or appreciation of the Poems. But, it must be remembered, on the other hand, that Wordsworth was never contented with simply copying what he saw in Nature. Of the 'Evening Walk'--written in his eighteenth year--he says that the plan of the poem

"has not been confined to a particular walk or an individual place; a proof (of which I was unconscious at the time) of my unwillingness to submit the poetic spirit to the chains of fact and real circumstance. The country is idealised rather than described in any one of its local aspects."[13]

Again, he says of the 'Lines written while Sailing in a Boat at Evening':

"It was during a solitary walk on the banks of the Cam that I was first struck with this appearance, and applied it to my own feelings in the manner here expressed, changing the scene to the Thames, near Windsor"; [14]

and of 'Guilt and Sorrow', he said,

"To obviate some distraction in the minds of those who are well acquainted with Salisbury Plain, it may be proper to say, that of the features described as belonging to it, one or two are taken from other desolate parts of England." [15]

In 'The Excursion' he passes from Langdale to Grasmere, over to Patterdale, back to Grasmere, and again to Hawes Water, without warning; and even in the case of the "Duddon Sonnets" he introduces a description taken direct from Rydal. Mr. Aubrey de Vere tells of a conversation he had with Wordsworth, in which he vehemently condemned the ultra-realistic poet, who goes to Nature with

"pencil and note-book, and jots down whatever strikes him most," adding, "Nature does not permit an inventory to be made of her charms! He should have left his pencil and note-book at home; fixed his eye as he walked with a reverent attention on all that surrounded him, and taken all into a heart that could understand and enjoy. Afterwards he would have discovered that while much of what he had admired was preserved to him, much was also most wisely obliterated. _That which remained, the picture surviving in his mind, would have presented the ideal and essential truth of the scene, and done so in large part by discarding much which, though in itself striking, was not characteristic._ In every scene, many of the most brilliant details are but accidental."

The two last sentences of this extract give admirable expression to one feature of Wordsworth's interpretation of Nature. In the deepest poetry, as in the loftiest music,--in Wordsworth's lyrics as in Beethoven's sonatas--it is by what they unerringly suggest and not by what they exhaustively express that their truth and power are known. "In what he leaves unsaid," wrote Schiller, "I discover the master of style." It depends, no doubt, upon the vision of the "inward eye," and the reproductive power of the idealising mind, whether the result is a travesty of Nature, or the embodiment of a truth higher than Nature yields. On the other hand, it is equally certain that the identification of localities casts a sudden light in many instances upon obscure passages in a poem, and is by far the best commentary that can be given. It is much to be able to compare the actual scene, with the ideal creation suggested by it; as the latter was both Wordsworth's reading of the text of Nature, and his interpretation of it. In his seventy-third year, he said, looking back on his 'Evening Walk', that there was not an image in the poem which he had not observed, and that he "recollected the time and place where most of them were noted." In the Fenwick notes, we constantly find him saying, "the fact occurred strictly as recorded," "the fact was as mentioned in the poem"; and the fact very often involved the accessories of place.

Any one who has tried to trace out the allusions in the "Poems on the Naming of Places," or to discover the site of "Michael's Sheepfold," to identify "Ghimmer Crag," or "Thurston-Mere,"--not to speak of the individual "rocks" and "recesses" near Blea Tarn at the head of Little Langdale so minutely described in 'The Excursion',--will admit that local commentary is an important aid to the understanding of Wordsworth. If to read the 'Yew Trees' in Borrowdale itself,

in mute repose To lie, and listen to the mountain flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves,

to read 'The Brothers' in Ennerdale, or "The Daffodils" by the shore of Ullswater, gives a new significance to these "poems of the imagination," a discovery of the obscurer allusions to place or scene will deepen our appreciation of those passages in which his idealism is most pronounced. Every one knows Kirkstone Pass, Aira Force, Dungeon Ghyll, the Wishing Gate, and Helm Crag: many persons know the Glowworm Rock, and used to know the Rock of Names; but where is "Emma's Dell"? or "the meeting point of two highways," so characteristically described in the twelfth book of 'The Prelude'? and who will fix the site of the pool in Rydal Upper Park, immortalised in the poem 'To M. H.'? or identify "Joanna's Rock"? Many of the places in the English Lake District are undergoing change, and every year the local allusions will be more difficult to trace. Perhaps the most interesting memorial of the poet which existed, viz. the "Rock of Names," on the shore of Thirlmere, is now sunk under the waters of a Manchester reservoir. Other memorials are perishing by the wear and tear of time, the decay of old buildings, the alteration of roads, the cutting down of trees, and the modernising, or "improving," of the district generally. All this is inevitable. But it is well that many of the natural objects, over and around which the light of Wordsworth's genius lingers, are out of the reach of "improvements," and are indestructible even by machinery.

If it be objected that several of the places which we try to identify--and which some would prefer to leave for ever undisturbed in the realm of imagination--were purposely left obscure, it may be replied that Death and Time have probably now removed all reasons for reticence, especially in the case of those poems referring to domestic life and friendly ties. While an author is alive, or while those are alive to whom he has made reference in the course of his allusions to place, it may even be right that works designed for posterity should not be dealt with after the fashion of the modern "interviewer." But greatness has its penalties; and a "fierce light" "beats around the throne" of Genius, as well as round that of Empire. Moreover, all experience shows that posterity takes a great and a growing interest in exact topographical illustrations of the works of great authors. The labour recently bestowed upon the places connected with Shakespeare, Scott, and Burns sufficiently attests this.

The localities in Westmoreland, which are most permanently associated with Wordsworth, are these: Grasmere, where he lived during the years of his "poetic prime," and where he is buried; Lower Easdale, where he passed so many days with his sister by the side of the brook, and on the terraces at Lancrigg, and where 'The Prelude' was dictated; Rydal Mount, where he spent the latter half of his life, and where he found one of the most perfect retreats in England; Great Langdale, and Blea Tarn at the head of Little Langdale, immortalised in 'The Excursion'; the upper end of Ullswater, and Kirkstone Pass; and all the mountain tracks and paths round Grasmere and Rydal, especially the old upper road between them, under Nab Scar, his favourite walk during his later years, where he "composed hundreds of verses." There is scarcely a rock or mountain summit, a stream or tarn, or even a well, a grove, or forest-side in all that neighbourhood, which is not imperishably identified with this poet, who at once interpreted them as they had never been interpreted before, and added

the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

It may be worthy of note that Wordsworth himself sanctioned the principle of tracing out local allusions both by dictating the Fenwick notes, and by republishing his Essay on the topography of the Lakes, along with the Duddon Sonnets, in 1820--and also, by itself, in 1822--"from a belief that it would tend materially to illustrate" his poems.

In this edition the topographical Notes usually follow the Poems to which they refer. But in the case of the longer Poems, such as 'The Prelude', 'The Excursion', and others, it seems more convenient to print them at the foot of the page, than to oblige the reader to turn to the end of the volume.

From the accident of my having tried long ago--at Principal Shairp's request--to do what he told me he wished to do, but had failed to carry out, I have been supposed, quite erroneously, to be an 'authority' on the subject of "The English Lake District, as interpreted in the Poems of Wordsworth." The latter, it is true, is the title of one of the books which I have written about Wordsworth: but, although I visited the Lakes in 1860,--"as a pilgrim resolute"--and have re-visited the district nearly every year for more than a quarter of a century, I may say that I have only a partial knowledge of it. Others, such as Canon Rawnsley, Mr. Harry Goodwin, and Mr. Rix, for example, know many parts of it much better than I do; but, as I have often had to compare my own judgment with that of such experts as the late Dr. Cradock, Principal of Brasenose College, Oxford, and others, I may add that, when I differ from them, it has been only after a re-examination of their evidence, at the localities themselves.

SIXTH. Several Poems, and fragments of poems, hitherto unpublished--or published in stray quarters, and in desultory fashion--will find a place in this edition; but I reserve these fragments, and place them all together, in an Appendix to the last volume of the "Poetical Works." If it is desirable to print these poems, in such an edition as this, it is equally desirable to separate them from those which Wordsworth himself sanctioned in his final edition of 1849-50.

Every great author in the Literature of the World--whether he lives to old age (when his judgment may possibly be less critical) or dies young (when it may be relatively more accurate)--should himself determine what portions of his work ought, and what ought not to survive. At the same time,--while I do not presume to judge in the case of writers whom I know less fully than I happen to know Wordsworth and his contemporaries,--it seems clear that the very greatest men have occasionally erred as to what parts of their writings might, with most advantage, survive; and that they have even more frequently erred as to what MS. letters, etc.,--casting light on their contemporaries--should, or should not, be preserved. I am convinced, for example, that if the Wordsworth household had not destroyed all the letters which Coleridge sent to them, in the first decade of this century, the world would now possess much important knowledge which is for ever lost. It may have been wise, for reasons now unknown, to burn those letters, written by Coleridge: but the students of the literature of the period would gladly have them now.

Passing from the question of the preservation of Letters, it is evident that Wordsworth was very careful in distinguishing between the Verses which he sent to Newspapers and Magazines, and those Poems which he included in his published volumes. His anxiety on this point may be inferred from the way in which he more than once emphasised the fact of republication, e.g. in 'Peter Bell' (1819) he put the following prefatory note to four sonnets, which had previously appeared in 'Blackwood's Magazine', and which afterwards (1828) appeared in the 'Poetical Album' of Alaric Watts, "The following Sonnets having lately appeared in Periodical Publications are here reprinted."

Some of the poems (or fragments of poems), included in the 'addenda' to Volume viii. of this edition, I would willingly have left out (especially the sonnet addressed to Miss Maria Williams); but, since they have appeared elsewhere, I feel justified in now reprinting even that trivial youthful effusion, signed "Axiologus." I rejoice, however, that there is no likelihood that the "Somersetshire Tragedy" will ever see the light. When I told Wordsworth's successor in the Laureateship that I had burned a copy of that poem, sent to me by one to whom it had been confided, his delight was great. It is the chronicle of a revolting crime, with nothing in the verse to warrant its publication. The only curious thing about it is that Wordsworth wrote it. With this exception, there is no reason why the fragments which he did not himself republish, and others which he published but afterwards suppressed, should not now be printed. The suppression of some of these by the poet himself is as unaccountable, as is his omission of certain stanzas in the earlier poems from their later versions. Even the Cambridge 'Installation Ode', which is so feeble, will be reprinted. [16] 'The Glowworm', which only appeared in the edition of 1807, will be republished in full. 'Andrew Jones',--also suppressed after appearing in "Lyrical Ballads" of 1800, 1802, and 1805,--will be replaced, in like manner. The youthful 'School Exercise' written at Hawkshead, the translation from the 'Georgics' of Virgil, the poem addressed 'To the Queen' in 1846, will appear in their chronological place in vol. viii. There are also a translation of some French stanzas by Francis Wrangham on 'The Birth of Love'-a poem entitled 'The Eagle and the Dove', which was privately printed in a volume, consisting chiefly of French fragments, and called 'La petite Chouannerie, ou Historie d'un College Breton sous l'Empire'--a sonnet on the rebuilding of a church at Cardiff--an Election Squib written during the Lowther and Brougham contest for the representation of the county of Cumberland in 1818--some stanzas written in the Visitors' Book at the Ferry, Windermere, and other fragments. Then, since Wordsworth published some verses by his sister Dorothy in his own volumes, other unpublished fragments by Miss Wordsworth may find a place in this edition. I do not attach much importance, however, to the recovery of these unpublished poems. The truth is, as Sir Henry Taylor--himself a poet and critic of no mean order--remarked [17],

"In these days, when a great man's path to posterity is likely to be more and more crowded, there is a tendency to create an obstruction, in the desire to give an impulse. To gather about a man's work all the details that can be found out about it is, in my opinion, to put a drag upon it; and, as of the Works, so of the Life."

The industrious labour of some editors in disinterring the trivial works of great men is not a commendable industry. All great writers have occasionally written trifles--this is true even of Shakespeare--and if they wished them to perish, why should we seek to resuscitate them? Besides, this labour--whether due to the industry of admiring friends, or to the ambition of the literary resurrectionist--is futile; because the verdict of Time is sure, and posterity is certain to consign the recovered trivialities to kindly oblivion. The question which should invariably present itself to the editor of the fragments of a great writer is, "_Can these bones live_?" If they cannot, they had better never see the light. Indeed the only good reason for reprinting the fragments which have been lost (because the author himself attached no value to them), is that, in a complete collection of the works of a great man, some of them may have a biographic or psychological value. But have we any right to reproduce, from an antiquarian motive, what--in a literary sense--is either trivial, or feeble, or sterile?

We must, however, distinguish between what is suitable for an edition meant either to popularise an author, or to interpret him, and an edition intended to bring together all that is worthy of preservation for posterity. There is great truth in what Mr. Arnold has lately said of Byron:

"I question whether by reading everything which he gives us, we are so likely to acquire an admiring sense, even of his variety and abundance, as by reading what he gives us at his happier moments. Receive him absolutely without omission and compromise, follow his whole outpouring, stanza by stanza, and line by line, from the very commencement to the very end, and he is capable of being tiresome." [18]

This is quite true; nevertheless, English literature demands a complete edition of all the works of Byron: and it may be safely predicted that, for weightier reasons and with greater urgency, it will continue to call for the collected works of Wordsworth.

It should also be noted that the fact of Wordsworth's having dictated to Miss Fenwick (so late as 1843) a stanza from 'The Convict' in his note to 'The Lament of Mary Queen of Scots' (1817), justifies the inclusion of the whole of that (suppressed) poem in such an edition as this.

The fact that Wordsworth did not republish all his Poems, in his final edition of 1849-50, is not conclusive evidence that he thought them unworthy of preservation, and reproduction. It must be remembered that 'The Prelude' itself was a posthumous publication; and also that the fragmentary canto of 'The Recluse', entitled "Home at Grasmere"--as well as the other canto published in 1886, and entitled (most prosaically) "Composed when a probability existed of our being obliged to quit Rydal Mount as a residence"--were not published by the poet himself. I am of opinion that his omission of the stanzas beginning:

Among all lovely things my Love had been,

and of the sonnet on his 'Voyage down the Rhine', was due to sheer forgetfulness of their existence. Few poets remember all their past, fugitive, productions. At the same time, there are other fragments,--written when he was experimenting with his theme, and when the inspiration of genius had forsaken him,--which it is unfortunate that he did not himself destroy.

Among the Poems which Wordsworth suppressed, in his final edition, is the Latin translation of 'The Somnambulist' by his son. This will be republished, more especially as it was included by Wordsworth himself in the second edition of his "Yarrow Revisited."

It may be well to mention the 'repetitions' which are inevitable in this edition,

(1) As already explained, those fragments of 'The Recluse'--which were issued in all the earlier volumes, and afterwards incorporated in 'The Prelude'--are printed as they originally appeared.

(2) Short Notes are extracted from Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland' (1803), which illustrate the Poems composed during that Tour, while the whole text of that Tour will be printed in full in subsequent volumes.

(3) Other fragments, including the lines beginning,

Wisdom and Spirit of the universe,

will be printed both by themselves in their chronological place, and in the longer poem of which they form a part, according to the original plan of their author.

A detail, perhaps not too trivial to mention, is that, in this edition--at the suggestion of several friends--I have followed the example of Professor Dowden in his Aldine edition, and numbered the lines of almost all the poems--even the sonnets. When I have not done so, the reason will be obvious; viz. either the structure, or the brevity, of the poem. [19]

In giving the date of each poem, I have used the word "composed," rather than "written," very much because Wordsworth himself,--and his sister, in her Journals--almost invariably use the word "composed"; although he criticised the term as applied to the creation of a poem, as if it were a manufactured article. In his Chronological Table, Mr. Dowden adopts the word "composed"; but, in his edition of the Poems, he has made use of the term" written." [20]

No notice (or almost none) of misprints in Wordsworth's own text is taken, in the notes to this edition. Sometimes an error occurred, and was carried on through more than one edition, and corrected in the next: e.g., in 'The Childless Father', the editions of 1827, 1832, and 1836 have the line:

Fresh springs of green boxwood, not six months before.

In the 'errata' of the edition of 1836 this is corrected to "fresh sprigs." There are other 'errata', which remained in the edition of 1849-50, e.g., in 'Rob Roy's Grave', "Vools" for "Veols," and mistakes in quotations from other poets, such as "invention" for "instruction," in Wither's poem on the Daisy. These are corrected without mention.

I should perhaps add that, while I have included, amongst the illustrative notes, extracts from Henry Crabb Robinson's 'Diary', etc., many of them are now published for the first time. These voluminous MSS. of Robinson's have been re-examined with care; and the reader who compares the three volumes of the 'Diary', etc.--edited by Dr. Sadler--with the extracts now printed from the original MS., will see where sentences omitted by the original editor have been included.

As this edition proceeds, my debt to many--who have been so kind as to put their Wordsworth MSS. and memoranda at my disposal--will be apparent.

It is difficult to acknowledge duly my obligation to collectors of autograph Letters--Mr. Morrison, the late Mr. Locker Lampson, the late Mr. Mackay, of the Grange, Trowbridge, and a score of others--but, I may say in general, that the kindness of those who possess Wordsworth MSS. in allowing me to examine them, has been a very genuine evidence of their interest in the Poet, and his work.

My special thanks are due to Mr. Gordon Wordsworth, who has, in the kindest manner and for many years, placed everything at my disposal, which could further my labour on his grandfather's Works.

Finally, I wish to express the great debt I owe to the late Mr. J. Dykes Campbell, for many suggestions, and for his unwearied interest in this work,--which I think was second only to his interest in Coleridge--and also to Mr. W. B. Kinghorn for his valuable assistance in the revision of proof sheets.

If there are any desiderata, in reference to Wordsworth--in addition to a new Life, a critical Essay, and such a Bibliography of Criticism as will be adequate for posterity--a 'Concordance' to his works is one of them. A correspondent once offered to prepare this for me, if I found a publisher: and another has undertaken to compile a volume of 'parallel passages' from the earlier poets of England, and of the world. A Concordance might very well form part of a volume of 'Wordsworthiana', and be a real service to future students of the poet.

William Knight.

[Footnote 1: In addition to my own detection of errors in the text and notes to the editions 1882-9, I acknowledge special obligation to the late Vice-Chancellor of the Victoria University, Principal Greenwood, who went over every volume with laborious care, and sent me the result. To the late Mr. J. Dykes Campbell, to Mr. J. R. Tutin, to the Rev. Thomas Hutchinson of Kimbolton, and to many others, I am similarly indebted.]

[Footnote 2: See 'Memoirs of William Wordsworth', ii. pp. 113, 114.]

[Footnote 3: It is however different with the fragments which were published in all the editions issued in the poet's lifetime, and afterwards in 'The Prelude', such as the lines on "the immortal boy" of Windermere. These are printed in their chronological place, and also in the posthumous poem.]

[Footnote 4: 'Poems of Wordsworth selected and arranged by Matthew Arnold'. London: Macmillan and Co.]

[Footnote 5: See the 'Life of Sir W. Rowan Hamilton', vol. ii. pp, 132, 135.]

[Footnote 6: See the Preface to the American edition of 1837.]

[Footnote 7: It need hardly be explained that, in the case of a modern poet, these various readings are not like the conjectural guesses of critics and commentators as to what the original text was (as in the case of the Greek Poets, or of Dante, or even of Shakespeare). They are the actual alterations, introduced deliberately as improvements, by the hand of the poet himself.]

[Footnote 8: The collection in the British Museum, and those in all the University Libraries of the country, are incomplete.]

[Footnote 9: The publication of this edition was superintended by Mr. Carter, who acted as Wordsworth's secretary for thirty-seven years, and was appointed one of his literary executors.]

[Footnote 10: Let the indiscriminate admirer of "first editions" turn to this quarto, and perhaps even he may wonder why it has been rescued from oblivion. I am only aware of the existence of five copies of the edition of 1793; and although it has a certain autobiographic value, I do not think that many who read it once will return to it again, except as a literary curiosity. Here--and not in "Lyrical Ballads" or 'The Excursion'--was the quarry where Jeffrey or Gifford might have found abundant material for criticism.]

[Footnote 11: It is unfortunate that the 'Memoirs' do not tell us to what poem the remark applies, or to whom the letter containing it was addressed.]

[Footnote 12: It is important to note that the printed text in several of the editions is occasionally cancelled in the list of 'errata', at the beginning or the end of the volume: also that many copies of the early editions (notably those of 1800), were bound up without the full 'errata' list. In this edition there were two such lists, one of them very brief. But the cancelled words in these 'errata' lists, must be taken into account, in determining the text of each edition.]

[Footnote 13: I. F. note. See vol. i. p. 5.]

[Footnote 14: I. F. note. See vol. i. p. 32.]

[Footnote 15: Advertisement. See vol. i. p. 78.]

[Footnote 16: How much of this poem was Wordsworth's own has not been definitely ascertained. I am of opinion that very little, if any of it, was his. It has been said that his nephew, the late Bishop of Lincoln, wrote most of it; but more recent evidence tends to show that it was the work of his son-in-law, Edward Quillinan.]

[Footnote 17: In a letter to the writer in 1882.]

[Footnote 18: 'The Poetry of Byron, chosen and arranged by Matthew Arnold'. London: Macmillan and Co.]

[Footnote 19: It may not be too trivial a fact to mention that Wordsworth numbered the lines of his earliest publication, 'An Evening Walk, in 1793.--Ed.]

[Footnote 20: Another fact, not too trivial to mention, is that in the original MS. of the 'Lines composed at Grasmere', etc., Wordsworth sent it to the printer "Lines written," but changed it in proof to "Lines composed."--Ed.]

* * * * *

EXTRACT FROM THE CONCLUSION OF A POEM, COMPOSED IN ANTICIPATION OF LEAVING SCHOOL

Composed 1786.--Published 1815

This poem was placed by Wordsworth among his "Juvenile Pieces." The following note was prefixed to that Series, from 1820 to 1832:

"Of the Poems in this class, "THE EVENING WALK" and "DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES" were first published in 1793. They are reprinted with some unimportant alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their publication. It would have been easy to amend them, in many passages, both as to sentiment and expression, and I have not been altogether able to resist the temptation: but attempts of this kind are made at the risk of injuring those characteristic features, which, after all, will be regarded as the principal recommendation of juvenile poems."

In 1836 "unimportant" was erased before "alterations"; and after "temptation" the following was added, "as will be obvious to the attentive reader, in some instances: these are few, for I am aware that attempts of this kind," etc.

"The above, which was written some time ago, scarcely applies to the Poem, 'Descriptive Sketches', as it now stands. The corrections, though numerous, are not, however, such as to prevent its retaining with propriety a place in the class of 'Juvenile Pieces.'"

In the editions of 1845 and 1849, Wordsworth called his "Juvenile Pieces," "Poems written in Youth."--Ed.

["Dear native regions," etc., 1786, Hawkshead. The beautiful image with which this poem concludes suggested itself to me while I was resting in a boat along with my companions under the shade of a magnificent row of sycamores, which then extended their branches from the shore of the promontory upon which stands the ancient, and at that time the more picturesque, Hall of Coniston, the Seat of the Le Flemings from very early times. The Poem of which it was the conclusion, was of many hundred lines, and contained thoughts and images, most of which have been dispersed through my other writings.--I. F.]

In the editions 1815 to 1832, the title given to this poem was 'Extract from the conclusion of a Poem, composed upon leaving School'. The row of sycamores at Hawkshead, referred to in the Fenwick note, no longer exists.

In the "Autobiographical Memoranda," dictated by Wordsworth at Rydal Mount in November 1847, he says, " .... I wrote, while yet a schoolboy, a long poem running upon my own adventures, and the scenery of the county in which I was brought up. The only part of that poem which has been preserved is the conclusion of it, which stands at the beginning of my collected Poems." [A]

In the eighth book of 'The Prelude', (lines 468-475), this fragment is introduced, and there Wordsworth tells us that once, when boating on Coniston Lake (Thurston-mere) in his boyhood, he entered under a grove of trees on its "western marge," and glided "along the line of low-roofed water," "as in a cloister." He adds,

while, in that shade Loitering, I watched the golden beams of light Flung from the setting sun, as they reposed In silent beauty on the naked ridge Of a high eastern hill--thus flowed my thoughts In a pure stream of words fresh from the heart:

Ed.

* * * * *

THE POEM

Dear native regions, [B] I foretell, From what I feel at this farewell, That, wheresoe'er my steps may [1] tend, And whensoe'er my course shall end,

If in that hour a single tie [2] 5 Survive of local sympathy, My soul will cast the backward view, The longing look alone on you.

Thus, while the Sun sinks down to rest Far in the regions of the west, 10 Though to the vale no parting beam Be given, not one memorial gleam, [3] A lingering light he fondly throws [4] On the dear hills [5] where first he rose.

* * * * *

[Footnote A: See the 'Memoirs of William Wordsworth', by Christopher Wordsworth (1851), vol. i. pp. 10-31.--ED]

[Footnote B: Compare the 'Ode, composed in January 1816', stanza v.--Ed.]

* * * * *

[Variant 1:

1832.

....shall 1815.]

[Variant 2:

1815.

That, when the close of life draws near, And I must quit this earthly sphere, If in that hour a tender tie MS.]

[Variant 3:

1845.

Thus, when the Sun, prepared for rest, Hath gained the precincts of the West, Though his departing radiance fail To illuminate the hollow Vale, 1815.

Thus, from the precincts of the West, The Sun, when sinking down to rest, 1832.

... while sinking ... 1836.

Hath reached the precincts ... MS.]

[Variant 4:

1815.

A lingering lustre fondly throws 1832.

The edition of 1845 reverts to the reading of 1815.]

[Variant 5:

1815.

On the dear mountain-tops ... 1820.

The edition of 1845 returns to the text of 1815.]

* * * * *

WRITTEN IN VERY EARLY YOUTH

Composed 1786. [A]--Published 1807 [B]

From 1807 to 1843 this was placed by Wordsworth in his group of "Miscellaneous Sonnets." In 1845, it was transferred to the class of "Poems written in Youth." It is doubtful if it was really written in "'very' early youth." Its final form, at any rate, may belong to a later period.--Ed.

* * * * *

Calm is all nature as a resting wheel. The kine are couched upon the dewy grass; The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass, Is cropping audibly [1] his later meal: [C] Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal 5 O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky. Now, in this blank of things, a harmony, Home-felt, and home-created, comes [2] to heal That grief for which the senses still supply Fresh food; for only then, when memory 10 Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain Those busy cares that would allay my pain; Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel The officious touch that makes me droop again.

* * * * *

[Footnote A: The date of the composition of this fragment is quite unknown.--Ed.]

[Footnote B: But previously, in 'The Morning Post', Feb. 13, 1802.--Ed.]

[Footnote C: Canon Ainger calls attention to the fact that there is here a parallel, possibly a reminiscence, from the 'Nocturnal Reverie' of the Countess of Winchelsea.

Whose stealing pace and lengthened shade we fear, Till torn-up forage in his teeth we hear.

Ed.]

* * * * *

[Variant 1:

1827.

Is up, and cropping yet ... 1807.]

[Variant 2:

1838.

... seems ... 1807.]

* * * * *

AN EVENING WALK

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY

Composed 1787-9. [A]--Published 1793

[The young Lady to whom this was addressed was my Sister. It was composed at School, and during my first two College vacations. There is not an image in it which I have not observed; and, now in my seventy-third year, I recollect the time and place, when most of them were noticed. I will confine myself to one instance:

Waving his hat, the shepherd, from the vale, Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale,-- The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted flocks.

I was an eye-witness of this for the first time while crossing the Pass of Dunmail Raise. Upon second thought, I will mention another image:

And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines.

This is feebly and imperfectly expressed, but I recollect distinctly the very spot where this first struck me. It was on the way between Hawkshead and Ambleside, and gave me extreme pleasure. The moment was important in my poetical history; for I date from it my consciousness of the infinite variety of natural appearances which had been unnoticed by the poets of any age or country, so far as I was acquainted with them; and I made a resolution to supply in some degree the deficiency. I could not have been at that time above fourteen years of age. The description of the swans, that follows, was taken from the daily opportunities I had of observing their habits, not as confined to the gentleman's park, but in a state of nature. There were two pairs of them that divided the lake of Esthwaite, and its in-and-out flowing streams, between them, never trespassing a single yard upon each other's separate domain. They were of the old magnificent species, bearing in beauty and majesty about the same relation to the Thames swan which that does to the goose. It was from the remembrance of those noble creatures, I took, thirty years after, the picture of the swan which I have discarded from the poem of 'Dion'. [B] While I was a schoolboy, the late Mr. Curwen introduced a little fleet of these birds, but of the inferior species, to the lake of Windermere. Their principal home was about his own island; but they sailed about into remote parts of the lake, and either from real or imagined injury done to the adjoining fields, they were got rid of at the request of the farmers and proprietors, but to the great regret of all who had become attached to them from noticing their beauty and quiet habits. I will conclude my notice of this poem by observing that the plan of it has not been confined to a particular walk, or an individual place; a proof (of which I was unconscious at the time) of my unwillingness to submit the poetic spirit to the chains of fact and real circumstance. The country is idealised rather than described in any one of its local aspects.--I. F.]

The title of this poem, as first published in 1793, was 'An Evening Walk. An epistle; in verse. Addressed to a Young Lady, from the Lakes of the North of England. By W. Wordsworth, B.A., of St. John's, Cambridge'. Extracts from it were published in all the collected editions of the poems under the general title of "Juvenile Pieces," from 1815 to 1843; and, in 1845 and 1849, of "Poems written in Youth." The following prefatory note to the "Juvenile Pieces" occurs in the editions 1820 to 1832.

"They are reprinted with some unimportant alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their publication. It would have been easy to amend them, in many passages, both as to sentiment and expression, and I have not been altogether able to resist the temptation: but attempts of this kind are made at the risk of injuring those characteristic features, which, after all, will be regarded as the principal recommendation of juvenile poems."

To this, Wordsworth added, in 1836,

"The above, which was written some time ago, scarcely applies to the Poem, 'Descriptive Sketches', as it now stands. The corrections, though numerous, are not, however, such as to prevent its retaining with propriety a place in the class of 'Juvenile Pieces.'"

In May 1794 Wordsworth wrote to his friend Mathews,

"It was with great reluctance that I sent these two little works into the world in so imperfect a state. But as I had done nothing at the University, I thought these little things might show that I _could_ do something."

Wordsworth's notes to this poem are printed from the edition of 1793. Slight variations in the text of these notes in subsequent editions, in the spelling of proper names, and in punctuation, are not noted.--Ed.

'General Sketch of the Lakes--Author's regret of his Youth which was passed amongst them--Short description of Noon--Cascade--Noon-tide Retreat--Precipice and sloping Lights--Face of Nature as the Sun declines--Mountain-farm, and the Cock--Slate-quarry--Sunset--Superstition of the Country connected with that moment--Swans--Female Beggar--Twilight-sounds--Western Lights--Spirits--Night--Moonlight--Hope--Night-sounds--Conclusion'.

* * * * *

THE POEM

Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove Through bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove; Where Derwent rests, and listens to the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore; [1] Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads, 5 To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads; Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds, Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland bounds; Where, undisturbed by winds, Winander [C] sleeps [2] 'Mid clustering isles, and holly-sprinkled steeps; 10 Where twilight glens endear my Esthwaite's shore, And memory of departed pleasures, more.

Fair scenes, erewhile, I taught, a happy child, The echoes of your rocks my carols wild: The spirit sought not then, in cherished sadness, 15 A cloudy substitute for failing gladness. [3] In youth's keen [4] eye the livelong day was bright, The sun at morning, and the stars at night, Alike, when first the bittern's hollow bill Was heard, or woodcocks [D] roamed the moonlight hill. [5] 20

In thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain, [6] And hope itself was all I knew of pain; For then, the inexperienced heart would beat [7] At times, while young Content forsook her seat, And wild Impatience, pointing upward, showed, 25 Through passes yet unreached, a brighter road. [8] Alas! the idle tale of man is found Depicted in the dial's moral round; Hope with reflection blends her social rays [9] To gild the total tablet of his days; 30 Yet still, the sport of some malignant power, He knows but from its shade the present hour. [10] But why, ungrateful, dwell on idle pain? To show what pleasures yet to me remain, [11] Say, will my Friend, with unreluctant ear, [12] 35 The history of a poet's evening hear?

When, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still, Breathed a pale steam around the glaring hill, And shades of deep-embattled clouds were seen, 40 Spotting the northern cliffs with lights between; When crowding cattle, checked by rails that make A fence far stretched into the shallow lake, Lashed the cool water with their restless tails, Or from high points of rock looked out for fanning gales;[13] 45 When school-boys stretched their length upon the green; And round the broad-spread oak, a glimmering scene, In the rough fern-clad park, the herded deer [14] Shook the still-twinkling tail and glancing ear; When horses in the sunburnt intake [E] stood, 50 And vainly eyed below the tempting flood, Or tracked the passenger, in mute distress, With forward neck the closing gate to press--[15] Then, while I wandered where the huddling rill Brightens with water-breaks the hollow ghyll [F] [16] 55 As by enchantment, an obscure retreat [17] Opened at once, and stayed my devious feet. While thick above the rill the branches close, In rocky basin its wild waves repose, Inverted shrubs, [G] and moss of gloomy green, 60 Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between; And its own twilight softens the whole scene, [H] Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine On withered briars that o'er the crags recline; [18] Save where, with sparkling foam, a small cascade, 65 Illumines, from within, the leafy shade; [19] Beyond, along the vista of the brook, Where antique roots its bustling course [20] o'erlook, The eye reposes on a secret bridge [J] Half grey, half shagged with ivy to its ridge; 70 There, bending o'er the stream, the listless swain Lingers behind his disappearing wain. [21] --Did Sabine grace adorn my living line, Blandusia's praise, wild stream, should yield to thine! Never shall ruthless minister of death 75 'Mid thy soft glooms the glittering steel unsheath; No goblets shall, for thee, be crowned with flowers, No kid with piteous outcry thrill thy bowers; The mystic shapes that by thy margin rove A more benignant sacrifice approve-- 80 A mind, that, in a calm angelic mood Of happy wisdom, meditating good, Beholds, of all from her high powers required, Much done, and much designed, and more desired,-- Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined, 85 Entire affection for all human kind.

Dear Brook, [22] farewell! To-morrow's noon again Shall hide me, wooing long thy wildwood strain; But now the sun has gained his western road, And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad. 90

While, near the midway cliff, the silvered kite In many a whistling circle wheels her flight; Slant watery lights, from parting clouds, apace Travel along the precipice's base; Cheering its naked waste of scattered stone, 95 By lichens grey, and scanty moss, o'ergrown; Where scarce the foxglove peeps, or [23] thistle's beard; And restless [24] stone-chat, all day long, is heard.

How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view [25] The spacious landscape change in form and hue! 100 Here, vanish, as in mist, before a flood Of bright obscurity, hill, lawn, and wood; There, objects, by the searching beams betrayed, Come forth, and here retire in purple shade; Even the white stems of birch, the cottage white, 105 Soften their glare before the mellow light; The skiffs, at anchor where with umbrage wide Yon chestnuts half the latticed boat-house hide, Shed from their sides, that face the sun's slant beam, Strong flakes of radiance on the tremulous stream: 110 Raised by yon travelling flock, a dusty cloud Mounts from the road, and spreads its moving shroud; The shepherd, all involved in wreaths of fire, Now shows a shadowy speck, and now is lost entire.

Into a gradual calm the breezes [26] sink, [27] 115 A blue rim borders all the lake's still brink; There doth the twinkling aspen's foliage sleep, And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deep: [28] And now, on every side, the surface breaks Into blue spots, and slowly lengthening streaks; 120 Here, plots of sparkling water tremble bright With thousand thousand twinkling points of light; There, waves that, hardly weltering, die away, Tip their smooth ridges with a softer ray; And now the whole wide lake in deep repose 125 Is hushed, and like a burnished mirror glows, [29] Save where, along the shady western marge, Coasts, with industrious oar, the charcoal barge. [30]

Their panniered train a group of potters goad, Winding from side to side up the steep road; 130 The peasant, from yon cliff of fearful edge Shot, down the headlong path darts with his sledge; [31] Bright beams the lonely mountain-horse illume Feeding 'mid purple heath, "green rings," [K] and broom; While the sharp slope the slackened team confounds, 135 Downward [L] the ponderous timber-wain resounds; [32] In foamy breaks the rill, with merry song, Dashed o'er [33] the rough rock, lightly leaps along; From lonesome chapel at the mountain's feet, Three humble bells their rustic chime repeat; 140 Sounds from the water-side the hammered boat; And 'blasted' quarry thunders, heard remote!

Even here, amid the sweep of endless woods, Blue pomp of lakes, high cliffs and falling floods, Not undelightful are the simplest charms, 145 Found by the grassy [34] door of mountain-farms.

Sweetly ferocious, [M] round his native walks, Pride of [35] his sister-wives, the monarch stalks; Spur-clad his nervous feet, and firm his tread; A crest of purple tops the warrior's head. [36] 150 Bright sparks his black and rolling [37] eye-ball hurls Afar, his tail he closes and unfurls; [38] On tiptoe reared, he strains [39] his clarion throat, Threatened by faintly-answering farms remote: Again with his shrill voice the mountain rings, 155 While, flapped with conscious pride, resound his wings! [40]

Where, mixed with graceful birch, the sombrous pine And yew-tree [41] o'er the silver rocks recline; I love to mark the quarry's moving trains, Dwarf panniered steeds, and men, and numerous wains: 160 How busy all [42] the enormous hive within, While Echo dallies with its [43] various din! Some (hear you not their chisels' clinking sound?) [44] Toil, small as pigmies in the gulf profound; Some, dim between the lofty [45] cliffs descried, 165 O'erwalk the slender [46] plank from side to side; These, by the pale-blue rocks that ceaseless ring, In airy baskets hanging, work and sing.[47]

Just where a cloud above the mountain rears [48] An [49] edge all flame, the broadening sun appears; 170 A long blue bar its ægis orb divides, And breaks the spreading of its golden tides; And now that orb has touched the purple steep Whose softened image penetrates the deep.[50]

'Cross the calm lake's blue shades the cliffs aspire, 175 With towers and woods, a "prospect all on fire"; [N] While [51] coves and secret hollows, through a ray Of fainter gold, a purple gleam betray. Each slip of lawn the broken rocks between Shines in the light with more than earthly green: [52] 180 Deep yellow beams the scattered stems [53] illume, Far in the level forest's central gloom: Waving his hat, the shepherd, from [54] the vale, Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale,-- The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks, 185 Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted flocks. [55] Where oaks o'erhang the road the radiance shoots On tawny earth, wild weeds, and twisted roots; The druid-stones a brightened ring unfold; [56] And all the babbling brooks are liquid gold; 190 Sunk to a curve, the day-star lessens still, Gives one bright glance, and drops [57] behind the hill. [P]

In these secluded vales, if village fame, Confirmed by hoary hairs, belief may claim; When up the hills, as now, retired the light, 195 Strange apparitions mocked the shepherd's sight. [58]

The form appears of one that spurs his steed Midway along the hill with desperate speed; [59] Unhurt pursues his lengthened flight, while all Attend, at every stretch, his headlong fall. 200 Anon, appears a brave, a gorgeous show Of horsemen-shadows moving to and fro; [60] At intervals imperial banners stream, [61] And now the van reflects the solar beam; [62] The rear through iron brown betrays a sullen gleam. 205 While silent stands the admiring crowd below, Silent the visionary warriors go, Winding in ordered pomp their upward way [Q] Till the last banner of their [63] long array Has disappeared, and every trace is fled 210 Of splendour--save the beacon's spiry head Tipt with eve's latest gleam of burning red. [64]

Now, while the solemn evening shadows sail, On slowly-waving pinions, [65] down the vale; And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines 215 Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines; [66] 'Tis pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray [67] Where, winding on along some secret bay, [68] The swan uplifts his chest, and backward flings His neck, a varying arch, between his towering wings: 220 The eye that marks the gliding creature sees How graceful, pride can be, and how majestic, ease. [69]

While tender cares and mild domestic loves With furtive watch pursue her as she moves, The female with a meeker charm succeeds, 225 And her brown little-ones around her leads, Nibbling the water lilies as they pass, Or playing wanton with the floating grass. She, in a mother's care, her beauty's pride Forgetting, calls the wearied to her side; [70] 230 Alternately they mount her back, and rest Close by her mantling wings' embraces prest. [R]

Long may they float upon this flood serene; Theirs be these holms untrodden, still, and green, Where leafy shades fence off the blustering gale, 235 And breathes in peace the lily of the vale![71] Yon isle, which feels not even the milk-maid's feet, Yet hears her song, "by distance made more sweet," [72] [S] Yon isle conceals their home, their hut-like bower; Green water-rushes overspread the floor; [73] 240 Long grass and willows form the woven wall, And swings above the roof the poplar tall. Thence issuing often with unwieldy stalk, They crush with broad black feet their flowery walk; [74] Or, from the neighbouring water, hear at morn [75] 245 The hound, the horse's tread, and mellow horn; Involve their serpent-necks in changeful rings, Rolled wantonly between their slippery wings, Or, starting up with noise and rude delight, Force half upon the wave their cumbrous flight. [76] 250

Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys caressed, Haply some wretch has eyed, and called thee blessed; When with her infants, from some shady seat By the lake's edge, she rose--to face the noontide heat; Or taught their limbs along the dusty road 255 A few short steps to totter with their load. [77]

I see her now, denied to lay her head, On cold blue nights, in hut or straw-built shed, Turn to a silent smile their sleepy cry, By pointing to the gliding moon [78] on high. 260

--[79] When low-hung clouds each star of summer hide, And fireless are the valleys far and wide, Where the brook brawls along the public [80] road Dark with bat-haunted ashes stretching broad, [81] Oft has she taught them on her lap to lay 265 The shining glow-worm; or, in heedless play, Toss it from hand to hand, disquieted; While others, not unseen, are free to shed Green unmolested light upon their mossy bed. [82]

Oh! when the sleety showers her path assail, 270 And like a torrent roars the headstrong gale; [83] No more her breath can thaw their fingers cold, Their frozen arms her neck no more can fold; [84] Weak roof a cowering form two babes to shield, And faint the fire a dying heart can yield! 275 Press the sad kiss, fond mother! vainly fears Thy flooded cheek to wet them with its tears; [85] No tears can chill them, and no bosom warms, Thy breast their death-bed, coffined in thine arms!

Sweet are the sounds that mingle from afar, 280 Heard by calm lakes, as peeps the folding star, Where the duck dabbles 'mid the rustling sedge, And feeding pike starts from the water's edge, Or the swan stirs the reeds, his neck and bill Wetting, that drip upon the water still; 285 And heron, as resounds the trodden shore, Shoots upward, darting his long neck before. [86] Now, with religious awe, the farewell light Blends with the solemn colouring of night; [87] 'Mid groves of clouds that crest the mountain's brow, 290 And round the west's proud lodge their shadows throw, Like Una [T] shining on her gloomy way, The half-seen form of Twilight roams astray; Shedding, through paly loop-holes mild and small, Gleams that upon the lake's still bosom fall; [88] 295 [89] Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres pale Tracking the motions of the fitful gale. [90] With restless interchange at once the bright Wins on the shade, the shade upon the light. No favoured eye was e'er allowed to gaze 300 On lovelier spectacle in faery days; When gentle Spirits urged a sportive chase, Brushing with lucid wands the water's face; While music, stealing round the glimmering deeps, Charmed the tall circle of the enchanted steeps. 305 --The lights are vanished from the watery plains: No wreck of all the pageantry remains. Unheeded night has overcome the vales: On the dark earth the wearied vision fails; The latest lingerer of the forest train, 310 The lone black fir, forsakes the faded plain; Last evening sight, the cottage smoke, no more, Lost in the thickened darkness, glimmers hoar; And, towering from the sullen dark-brown mere, Like a black wall, the mountain-steeps appear. [91] 315

--Now o'er the soothed accordant heart we feel A sympathetic twilight slowly steal, And ever, as we fondly muse, we find The soft gloom deepening on the tranquil mind. Stay! pensive, sadly-pleasing visions, stay! 320 Ah no! as fades the vale, they fade away: Yet still the tender, vacant gloom remains; Still the cold cheek its shuddering tear retains.

The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread Silent the hedge or steamy rivulet's bed, [92] 325 From his grey re-appearing tower shall soon Salute with gladsome note the rising moon, While with a hoary light she frosts the ground, And pours a deeper blue to Aether's bound; Pleased, as she moves, her pomp of clouds to fold 330 In robes of azure, fleecy-white, and gold. [93]

Above yon eastern hill, [94] where darkness broods O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and woods; Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace, Even now she shows, half-veiled, her lovely face: [95] 335 Across [96] the gloomy valley flings her light, Far to the western slopes with hamlets white; And gives, where woods the chequered upland strew, To the green corn of summer, autumn's hue.

Thus Hope, first pouring from her blessed horn 340 Her dawn, far lovelier than the moon's own morn, 'Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer The weary hills, impervious, blackening near; Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the while On darling spots remote her tempting smile. 345

Even now she decks for me a distant scene, (For dark and broad the gulf of time between) Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray, (Sole bourn, sole wish, sole object of my way; 350 How fair its lawns and sheltering [97] woods appear! How sweet its streamlet murmurs in mine ear!) Where we, my Friend, to happy [98] days shall rise, 'Till our small share of hardly-paining sighs (For sighs will ever trouble human breath) 355 Creep hushed into the tranquil breast of death.

But now the clear bright Moon her zenith gains, And, rimy without speck, extend the plains: The deepest cleft the mountain's front displays [99] Scarce hides a shadow from her searching rays; 360 From the dark-blue faint silvery threads divide The hills, while gleams below the azure tide; Time softly treads; throughout the landscape breathes A peace enlivened, not disturbed, by wreaths Of charcoal-smoke, that o'er the fallen wood, 365 Steal down the hill, and spread along the flood.[100]

The song of mountain-streams, unheard by day, Now hardly heard, beguiles my homeward way. [U] Air listens, like the sleeping water, still, To catch the spiritual music of the hill, [101] 370 Broke only by the slow clock tolling deep, Or shout that wakes the ferry-man from sleep, The echoed hoof nearing the distant shore, The boat's first motion--made with dashing oar; [102] Sound of closed gate, across the water borne, 375 Hurrying the timid [103] hare through rustling corn; The sportive outcry of the mocking owl; [104] And at long intervals the mill-dog's howl; The distant forge's swinging thump profound; Or yell, in the deep woods, of lonely hound. 380

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE ABOVE POEM:

[Variant 1:

1836.

His wizard course where hoary Derwent takes Thro' craggs, and forest glooms, and opening lakes, Staying his silent waves, to hear the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore: Where silver rocks the savage prospect chear Of giant yews that frown on Rydale's mere; 1793.

Where Derwent stops his course to hear the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs ... 1827.

(Omitting two lines of the 1793 text quoted above.)]

[Variant 2:

1836.

Where, bosom'd deep, the shy Winander peeps 1793.

Where, deep embosom'd, shy Winander peeps 1827.]

[Variant 3:

1836.

Fair scenes! with other eyes, than once, I gaze, The ever-varying charm your round displays, Than when, ere-while, I taught, "a happy child," The echoes of your rocks my carols wild: Then did no ebb of chearfulness demand Sad tides of joy from Melancholy's hand; 1793.

Upon the varying charm your round displays, 1820.]

[Variant 4:

1820.

... wild ... 1793.]

[Variant 5:

1836.

... stars of night, Alike, when first the vales the bittern fills, Or the first woodcocks roam'd the moonlight hills. 1793.

Alike, when heard the bittern's hollow bill, Or the first woodcocks roam'd the moonlight hill. 1820.]

[Variant 6:

1820.

Return Delights! with whom my road begun, When Life rear'd laughing up her morning sun; When Transport kiss'd away my april tear, "Rocking as in a dream the tedious year"; When link'd with thoughtless Mirth I cours'd the plain, 1793.]

[Variant 7:

1836.

For then, ev'n then, the little heart would beat 1793.]

[Variant 8:

1836.

And wild Impatience, panting upward, show'd Where tipp'd with gold the mountain-summits glow'd. 1793.]

[Variant 9:

1836.

With Hope Reflexion blends her social rays 1793.]

[Variant 10:

1820.

While, Memory at my side, I wander here, Starts at the simplest sight th' unbidden tear, A form discover'd at the well-known seat, A spot, that angles at the riv'let's feet, The ray the cot of morning trav'ling nigh, And sail that glides the well-known alders by.

Only in the edition of 1793.]

[Variant 11:

1820.

To shew her yet some joys to me remain, 1793.]

[Variant 12:

1820.

... with soft affection's ear, 1793.]

[Variant 13:

1836.

... with lights between; Gazing the tempting shades to them deny'd, When stood the shorten'd herds amid' the tide, Where, from the barren wall's unshelter'd end, Long rails into the shallow lake extend; 1793.

When, at the barren wall's unsheltered end, Where long rails far into the lake extend, Crowded the shortened herds, and beat the tides With their quick tails, and lash'd their speckled sides; 1820.]

[Variant 14:

1836.

And round the humming elm, a glimmering scene! In the brown park, in flocks, the troubl'd deer 1793.

... in herds, ... 1820.]

[Variant 15:

1820.

When horses in the wall-girt intake stood, Unshaded, eying far below, the flood, Crouded behind the swain, in mute distress, With forward neck the closing gate to press; And long, with wistful gaze, his walk survey'd, 'Till dipp'd his pathway in the river shade; 1793.]

[Variant 16:

1845.

--Then Quiet led me up the huddling rill, Bright'ning with water-breaks the sombrous gill; 1793.

--Then, while I wandered up the huddling rill Brightening with water-breaks the sombrous ghyll, 1820.

Then, while I wandered where the huddling rill Brightens with water-breaks the sombrous ghyll, 1836.]

[Variant 17:

1820.

To where, while thick above the branches close, In dark-brown bason its wild waves repose, Inverted shrubs, and moss of darkest green, Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between; Save that, atop, the subtle sunbeams shine, On wither'd briars that o'er the craggs recline; Sole light admitted here, a small cascade, Illumes with sparkling foam the twilight shade. Beyond, along the visto of the brook, Where antique roots its bustling path o'erlook, The eye reposes on a secret bridge Half grey, half shagg'd with ivy to its ridge. --Sweet rill, farewel! ... 1793.]

[Variant 18:

1845.

But see aloft the subtle sunbeams shine, On withered briars that o'er the crags recline; Thus beautiful! as if the sight displayed, By its own sparkling foam that small cascade; Inverted shrubs, with moss of gloomy green Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between. C.

Inverted shrubs with pale wood weeds between Cling from the moss-grown rocks, a darksome green, Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine And its own twilight softens the whole scene. And sparkling as it foams a small cascade Illumines from within the impervious shade Below, right in the vista of the brook, Where antique roots, etc. MS.]

[Variant 19:

1845.

Sole light admitted here, a small cascade, Illumes with sparkling foam the impervious shade; 1820.]

[Variant 20:

1827.

... path ... 1793.]

[Variant 21:

1845.

Whence hangs, in the cool shade, the listless swain Lingering behind his disappearing wain. 1820.]

[Variant 22:

1845.

--Sweet rill, ... 1793.]

[Variant 23:

1820.

... and ... 1793.]

[Variant 24:

1845.

And desert ... 1793]

[Variant 25:

1820.

How pleasant, as the yellowing sun declines, And with long rays and shades the landscape shines; To mark the birches' stems all golden light, That lit the dark slant woods with silvery white! The willow's weeping trees, that twinkling hoar, Glanc'd oft upturn'd along the breezy shore, Low bending o'er the colour'd water, fold Their moveless boughs and leaves like threads of gold; The skiffs with naked masts at anchor laid, Before the boat-house peeping thro' the shade; Th' unwearied glance of woodman's echo'd stroke; And curling from the trees the cottage smoke. Their pannier'd train ... 1793.]

[Variant 26:

1845.

... zephyrs ... 1820.]

[Variant 27: This stanza was added in the edition of 1820.]

[Variant 28:

1845.

This couplet was added in 1845.]

[Variant 29:

1845.

And now the universal tides repose, And, brightly blue, the burnished mirror glows, 1820.]

[Variant 30:

1845.

The sails are dropped, the poplar's foliage sleeps, And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deeps.

This couplet followed l. 127 from 1820 to 1843.]

[Variant 31:

1820

Shot, down the headlong pathway darts his sledge; 1793.]

[Variant 32:

1820.

Beside their sheltering [i] cross of wall, the flock Feeds on in light, nor thinks of winter's shock;

Only in the edition of 1793.]

[Variant 33:

1820.

Dashed down ... 1793.]

[Variant 34:

1836.

... verdant ... 1793.]

[Variant 35:

1820.

Gazed by ... 1793.]

[Variant 36:

1836.

... his warrior head. 1793.]

[Variant 37:

1836.

... haggard ... 1793.]

[Variant 38:

1836.

Whose state, like pine-trees, waving to and fro, Droops, and o'er canopies his regal brow,

This couplet was inserted in the editions 1793 to 1832.]

[Variant 39:

1820.

... blows ... 1793.]

[Variant 40: This couplet was first printed in the edition of 1820.]

[Variant 41:

1836.

Bright'ning the cliffs between where sombrous pine, And yew-trees ... 1793.]

[Variant 42:

1836.

How busy the enormous hive within, 1793.]

[Variant 43:

1836.

... with the ... 1793.]

[Variant 44:

1836.

Some hardly heard their chissel's clinking sound, 1793.]

[Variant 45:

1836.

... th' aëreal ... 1793.]

[Variant 46:

1815.

... viewless ... 1793.]

[Variant 47:

1836.

Glad from their airy baskets hang and sing. 1793.]

[Variant 48:

1836.

Hung o'er a cloud, above the steep that rears 1793.]

[Variant 49:

1820.

It's ... 1793.]

[Variant 50:

1845.

And now it touches on the purple steep That flings his shadow on the pictur'd deep. 1793.

That flings its image ... 1832.

And now the sun has touched the purple steep Whose softened image penetrates the deep. 1836.]

[Variant 51:

1836.

The coves ... 1793]

[Variant 52:

1836.

The gilded turn arrays in richer green Each speck of lawn the broken rocks between; 1793.

... invests with richer green 1820.]

[Variant 53:

1827.

... boles ... 1793.]

[Variant 54:

1827.

... in ... 1793.]

[Variant 55:

1836.

That, barking busy 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where he points, the intercepted flocks; 1793.]

[Variant 56:

1845.

The Druid stones [ii] their lighted fane unfold, 1793.

... a burnished ring unfold; 1836.]

[Variant 57:

1827.

... sinks ... 1793.]

[Variant 58:

1845.

In these lone vales, if aught of faith may claim, Thin silver hairs, and ancient hamlet fame; When up the hills, as now, retreats the light, Strange apparitions mock the village sight. 1793.

In these secluded vales, if village fame, Confirmed by silver hairs, belief may claim; When up the hills, as now, retired the light, Strange apparitions mocked the gazer's sight. 1820.

... shepherd's sight. 1836.]

[Variant 59:

1836.

A desperate form appears, that spurs his steed, Along the midway cliffs with violent speed; 1793.]

[Variant 60:

1836.

Anon, in order mounts a gorgeous show Of horsemen shadows winding to and fro; 1793.]

[Variant 61: This line was added in 1820.]

[Variant 62:

1820.

... is gilt with evening's beam, 1793.]

[Variant 63:

1849.

... of the ... 1836.]

[Variant 64:

1836.

Lost gradual o'er the heights in pomp they go, While silent stands th' admiring vale below; Till, but the lonely beacon all is fled, That tips with eve's last gleam his spiry head. 1793.

Till, save the lonely beacon, ... 1820.

In the edition of 1836 the seven lines of the printed text--205-211--replaced these four lines of the editions 1793-1832.]

[Variant 65:

1836.

On red slow-waving pinions ... 1793.]

[Variant 66:

1820.

And, fronting the bright west in stronger lines, The oak its dark'ning boughs and foliage twines, 1793.

The edition of 1815 omitted this couplet. It was restored in its final form in the edition of 1820.]

[Variant 67:

1836.

I love beside the glowing lake to stray, 1793.

How pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray, 1815.]

[Variant 68:

1836.

... to stray, Where winds the road along the secret bay; By rills that tumble down the woody steeps, And run in transport to the dimpling deeps; Along the "wild meand'ring shore" to view, Obsequious Grace the winding swan pursue. 1793.

... a secret bay; 1813.

... meandering shore" ... 1815.]

[Variant 69:

1836.

He swells his lifted chest, and backward flings His bridling neck between his tow'ring wings; Stately, and burning in his pride, divides And glorying looks around, the silent tides: On as he floats, the silver'd waters glow, Proud of the varying arch and moveless form of snow. 1793.

... his towering wings; In all the majesty of ease divides, 1815.]

[Variant 70:

1845.

... her beauty's pride Forgets, unweary'd watching every side, She calls them near, and with affection sweet Alternately relieves their weary feet; 1793.]

[Variant 71:

1836.

Long may ye roam these hermit waves that sleep, In birch-besprinkl'd cliffs embosom'd deep; These fairy holms untrodden, still, and green, Whose shades protect the hidden wave serene; Whence fragrance scents the water's desart gale, The violet, and the [iii] lily of the vale; 1793.

Long may ye float upon these floods serene; Yours be these holms untrodden, still, and green, Whose leafy shades fence off the blustering gale, Where breathes in peace the lily of the vale. 1827.]

[Variant 72:

1820.

Where, tho' her far-off twilight ditty steal, They not the trip of harmless milkmaid feel. 1793.]

[Variant 73:

1836.

Yon tuft conceals your home, your cottage bow'r. Fresh water rushes strew the verdant floor; 1793.

Yon isle conceals ... 1820.]

[Variant 74:

1836.

Thence issuing oft, unwieldly as ye stalk, Ye crush with broad black feet your flow'ry walk; 1793.

Thence issuing often with unwieldly stalk, With broad black feet ye crush your flow'ry walk; 1820.]

[Variant 75:

1820.

Safe from your door ye hear at breezy morn, 1793.]

[Variant 76:

1836.

... and mellow horn; At peace inverted your lithe necks ye lave, With the green bottom strewing o'er the wave; No ruder sound your desart haunts invades, Than waters dashing wild, or rocking shades. Ye ne'er, like hapless human wanderers, throw Your young on winter's winding sheet of snow. 1793.

... and mellow horn; Involve your serpent necks in changeful rings, Rolled wantonly between your slippery wings, Or, starting up with noise and rude delight, Force half upon the wave your cumbrous flight. 1820.]

[Variant 77:

1836.

Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys caress'd, Haply some wretch has ey'd, and call'd thee bless'd; Who faint, and beat by summer's breathless ray, Hath dragg'd her babes along this weary way; While arrowy fire extorting feverish groans Shot stinging through her stark o'er labour'd bones. --With backward gaze, lock'd joints, and step of pain, Her seat scarce left, she strives, alas! in vain, To teach their limbs along the burning road A few short steps to totter with their load, Shakes her numb arm that slumbers with its weight, And eyes through tears the mountain's shadeless height; And bids her soldier come her woes to share, Asleep on Bunker's [iv] charnel hill afar; For hope's deserted well why wistful look? Chok'd is the pathway, and the pitcher broke. 1793.

In 1793 this passage occupied the place of the six lines of the final text (250-255).

... and called thee bless'd; The whilst upon some sultry summer's day She dragged her babes along this weary way; Or taught their limbs along the burning road A few short steps to totter with their load. 1820.

The while ... 1832.]

[Variant 78:

1845.

... a shooting star ... 1793.]

[Variant 79:

1845.

I hear, while in the forest depth he sees, The Moon's fix'd gaze between the opening trees, In broken sounds her elder grief demand, And skyward lift, like one that prays, his hand, If, in that country, where he dwells afar, His father views that good, that kindly star; --Ah me! all light is mute amid the gloom, The interlunar cavern of the tomb. 1793-1832.

In broken sounds her elder child demand, While toward the sky he lifts his pale bright hand, 1836.

--Alas! all light ... 1836.

Those eight lines were withdrawn in 1845.]

[Variant 80:

1836.

... painful ... 1793.]

[Variant 81:

1820.

The distant clock forgot, and chilling dew, Pleas'd thro' the dusk their breaking smiles to view,

Only in the edition of 1793.]

[Variant 82:

1836.

... on her lap to play Delighted, with the glow-worm's harmless ray Toss'd light from hand to hand; while on the ground Small circles of green radiance gleam around. 1793.]

[Variant 83:

1836.

Oh! when the bitter showers her path assail, And roars between the hills the torrent gale, 1793.

... sleety showers ... 1827.]

[Variant 84:

1827.

Scarce heard, their chattering lips her shoulder chill, And her cold back their colder bosoms thrill; All blind she wilders o'er the lightless heath, Led by Fear's cold wet hand, and dogg'd by Death; Death, as she turns her neck the kiss to seek, Breaks off the dreadful kiss with angry shriek. Snatch'd from her shoulder with despairing moan, She clasps them at that dim-seen roofless stone.-- "Now ruthless Tempest launch thy deadliest dart! Fall fires--but let us perish heart to heart." 1793.

The first, third, and fourth of these couplets were omitted from the edition of 1820. The whole passage was withdrawn in 1827.]

[Variant 85:

1820.

Soon shall the Light'ning hold before thy head His torch, and shew them slumbering in their bed,

Only in the edition of 1793.]

[Variant 86:

1820.

While, by the scene compos'd, the breast subsides, Nought wakens or disturbs it's tranquil tides; Nought but the char that for the may-fly leaps, And breaks the mirror of the circling deeps; Or clock, that blind against the wanderer born Drops at his feet, and stills his droning horn. --The whistling swain that plods his ringing way Where the slow waggon winds along the bay; The sugh [v] of swallow flocks that twittering sweep, The solemn curfew swinging long and deep; The talking boat that moves with pensive sound, Or drops his anchor down with plunge profound; Of boys that bathe remote the faint uproar, And restless piper wearying out the shore; These all to swell the village murmurs blend, That soften'd from the water-head descend. While in sweet cadence rising small and still The far-off minstrels of the haunted hill, As the last bleating of the fold expires, Tune in the mountain dells their water lyres.

Only in the edition of 1793.]

[Variant 87:

1845.

... of the night; 1793.]

[Variant 88:

1815.

Thence, from three paly loopholes mild and small, Slow lights upon the lake's still bosom fall, 1793.]

[Variant 89:

1827.

Beyond the mountain's giant reach that hides In deep determin'd gloom his subject tides. --Mid the dark steeps repose the shadowy streams, As touch'd with dawning moonlight's hoary gleams, Long streaks of fairy light the wave illume With bordering lines of intervening gloom, 1793.

The second and third of these couplets were cancelled in the edition of 1815, and the whole passage was withdrawn in 1827.]

[Variant 90:

1836.

Soft o'er the surface creep the lustres pale Tracking with silvering path the changeful gale. 1793.

... those lustres pale Tracking the fitful motions of the gale. 1815.]

[Variant 91:

1815.

--'Tis restless magic all; at once the bright [vi] Breaks on the shade, the shade upon the light, Fair Spirits are abroad; in sportive chase Brushing with lucid wands the water's face, While music stealing round the glimmering deeps Charms the tall circle of th' enchanted steeps. --As thro' th' astonished woods the notes ascend, The mountain streams their rising song suspend; Below Eve's listening Star, the sheep walk stills It's drowsy tinklings on th' attentive hills; The milkmaid stops her ballad, and her pail Stays it's low murmur in th' unbreathing vale; No night-duck clamours for his wilder'd mate, Aw'd, while below the Genii hold their state. --The pomp is fled, and mute the wondrous strains, No wrack of all the pageant scene remains, [vii] So vanish those fair Shadows, human Joys, But Death alone their vain regret destroys. Unheeded Night has overcome the vales, On the dark earth the baffl'd vision fails, If peep between the clouds a star on high, There turns for glad repose the weary eye; The latest lingerer of the forest train, The lone-black fir, forsakes the faded plain; Last evening sight, the cottage smoke no more, Lost in the deepen'd darkness, glimmers hoar; High towering from the sullen dark-brown mere, Like a black wall, the mountain steeps appear, Thence red from different heights with restless gleam Small cottage lights across the water stream, Nought else of man or life remains behind To call from other worlds the wilder'd mind, Till pours the wakeful bird her solemn strains [viii] Heard by the night-calm of the watry plains. --No purple prospects now the mind employ Glowing in golden sunset tints of joy, But o'er the sooth'd ...

Only in the edition of 1793.]

[Variant 92:

1836.

The bird, with fading light who ceas'd to thread Silent the hedge or steaming rivulet's bed, 1793.

The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread 1815.]

[Variant 93:

1836.

Salute with boding note the rising moon, Frosting with hoary light the pearly ground, And pouring deeper blue to Aether's bound; Rejoic'd her solemn pomp of clouds to fold In robes of azure, fleecy white, and gold, While rose and poppy, as the glow-worm fades, Checquer with paler red the thicket shades. 1793.

The last two lines occur only in the edition of 1793.

And pleased her solemn pomp of clouds to fold 1815.]

[Variant 94:

1836.

Now o'er the eastern hill, ... 1793.

See, o'er ... 1815.]

[Variant 95:

1836.

She lifts in silence up her lovely face; 1793.]

[Variant 96:

1836.

Above ... 1793.]

[Variant 97:

1815.

... silvery ... 1793.]

[Variant 98:

1815.

... golden ... 1793.]

[Variant 99:

1836.

The deepest dell the mountain's breast displays, 1793.

... the mountain's front ... 1820.]

[Variant 100:

1836.

The scene is waken'd, yet its peace unbroke, By silver'd wreaths of quiet charcoal smoke, That, o'er the ruins of the fallen wood, Steal down the hills, and spread along the flood. 1793.]

[Variant 101:

1836.

All air is, as the sleeping water, still, List'ning th' aëreal music of the hill, 1793.

Air listens, as the sleeping water still, To catch the spiritual music of the hill, 1832.]

[Variant 102:

1836.

Soon follow'd by his hollow-parting oar, And echo'd hoof approaching the far shore; 1793.]

[Variant 103:

1836.

... the feeding ... 1793.]

[Variant 104:

1836.

The tremulous sob of the complaining owl; 1793.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON VARIANTS (Sub-Footnotes)

[Sub-Footnote i: These rude structures, to protect the flocks, are frequent in this country: the traveller may recollect one in Withburne, another upon Whinlatter.--W. W. 1793.]

[Sub-Footnote ii: Not far from Broughton is a Druid monument, of which I do not recollect that any tour descriptive of this country makes mention. Perhaps this poem may fall into the hands of some curious traveller, who may thank me for informing him, that up the Duddon, the river which forms the aestuary at Broughton, may be found some of the most romantic scenery of these mountains.--W. W. 1793.

This circle is at the top of Swinside, a glen about four miles from Broughton. It consists of 50 stones, 90 yards in circumference; and is on the fell, which is part of the range terminating in Black Combe.--Ed.]

[Sub-Footnote iii: The lily of the valley is found in great abundance in the smaller islands of Winandermere.--W. W. 1793.]

[Sub-Footnote iv: In the 1793 edition this line reads "Asleep on Minden's charnel plain afar." The 'errata', list inserted in some copies of that edition gives "Bunker's charnel hill."--Ed.]

[Sub-Footnote v: Sugh, a Scotch word, expressive, as Mr. Gilpin explains it, of the sound of the motion of a stick through the air, or of the wind passing through the trees. See Burns' 'Cottar's Saturday Night'.--W. W. 1793.

The line is in stanza ii., l. 1:

November chill blaws loud, wi' angry sugh.--Ed.]

[Sub-Footnote vi: This long passage occupies, in the edition of 1793, the place of lines 297-314 in the final text given above.--Ed.]

[Sub-Footnote vii:

"So break those glittering shadows, human joys"

(YOUNG).--W. W. 1793.

The line occurs 'Night V, The Complaint', l. 1042, or l. 27 from the end.--Ed.]

[Sub-Footnote viii:

"Charming the night-calm with her powerful song."

A line of one of our older poets.--W. W. 1793.

This line I have been unable to discover, but see Webster and Dekker in 'Westward Hoe', iv. c.

"Charms with her excellent voice an awful silence through all this building."

Ed.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: See note to the "Juvenile Pieces" in the edition of 1836 (p. 1).--Ed.]

[Footnote B: It may not be irrelevant to mention that our late poet, Robert Browning, besought me--both in conversation, and by letter--to restore this "discarded" picture, in editing 'Dion'.--Ed.]

[Footnote C: These lines are only applicable to the middle part of that lake.--W. W. 1793.]

[Footnote D: In the beginning of winter, these mountains, in the moonlight nights, are covered with immense quantities of woodcocks; which, in the dark nights, retire into the woods.--W. W. 1793.]

[Footnote E: The word 'intake' is local, and signifies a mountain-inclosure.--W. W. 1793.]

[Footnote F: Gill is also, I believe, a term confined to this country. Glen, gill, and dingle, have the same meaning.--W. W. 1793.

The spelling "Ghyll" is first used in the edition of 1820 in the text. In the note to that edition it remains "gill". In 1827 the spelling in the note was "ghyll."--Ed.]

[Footnote G: Compare Dr. John Brown:

Not a passing breeze Sigh'd to the grove, which in the midnight air Stood motionless, and in the peaceful floods Inverted hung.

and see note A to page 31.--Ed. [Footnote U of this poem]]

[Footnote H: This line was first inserted in the edition of 1845. In the following line, the edition of 1793 has

Save that, atop, the subtle ...

Subsequent editions previous to 1845 have

Save that aloft ...

Ed.]

[Footnote J: The reader, who has made the tour of this country, will recognize, in this description, the features which characterize the lower waterfall in the gardens of Rydale.--W. W. 1793.]

[Footnote K:

"Vivid rings of green."

Greenwood's Poem on Shooting.--W. W. 1793.

The title is 'A Poem written during a Shooting Excursion on the Moors'. It was published by Cruttwell at Bath in 1787, 4to, pp. 25. The quotation is from stanza xvi., l. 11.--Ed.]

[Footnote L:

"Down the rough slope the pondrous waggon rings."

BEATTIE.--W. W.

1793. See 'The Minstrel', stanza xxxix., l. 4.--Ed.]

[Footnote M:

"Dolcemente feroce."

TASSO. In this description of the cock, I remembered a spirited one of the same animal in the 'L'Agriculture ou Les Géorgiques Françoises', of M. Rossuet.--W. W. 1793.]

[Footnote N: I am unable to trace this quotation.--Ed.]

[Footnote P: From Thomson: see Scott's 'Critical Essays'.--W. W. 1793.

It is difficult to know to what Wordsworth here alludes, but compare 'The Seasons', "Summer," l. 1467.

and now a golden curve, Gives one bright glance, then total disappears.--Ed.]

[Footnote Q: See a description of an appearance of this kind in Clark's 'Survey of the Lakes', accompanied with vouchers of its veracity, that may amuse the reader.--W. W. 1793.

The passage in Clark's folio volume, 'A Survey of the Lakes', etc., which suggested to Wordsworth the above lines in the 'Evening Walk', is to be found in chapter i. of the second book, p. 55. It gives a weird account of the appearance of horsemen being exercised in troops upon

"Southen-fell side, as seen on the 25th of June 1744 by William Lancaster of Blakehills, and a farm servant, David Strichet:

"These visionary horsemen seemed to come from the lowest part of Southen-fell, and became visible just at a place called Knott. They then moved in regular troops along the side of the fell, till they came opposite Blakehills, when they went over the mountain. Then they described a kind of curvilinear path upon the side of the fell, and both these first and last appearances were bounded by the top of the mountain.

"Frequently the last, or last but one, in a troop would leave his place, and gallop to the front, and then take the same pace with the rest--a regular swift walk. Thus changes happened to every troop (for many troops appeared) and oftener than once or twice, yet not at all times alike.... Nor was this phenomenon seen at Blakehill only, it was seen by every person at every cottage within the distance of a mile. Neither was it confined to a momentary view, for from the time that Strichet first observed it, the appearance must have lasted at least two hours and a half, viz. from half past seven till the night coming on prevented further view."

This interesting optical illusion--which suggests the wonderful island in the Atlantic, seen from the isles of Aran near Galway, alluded to in the 'Chorographical description of West, or H-Ier-Connaught', of R. O'Flaherty--was caused by the peculiar angle of the light from the setting sun, the reflection of the water of the Solway, and the refraction of the vapour and clouds above the Solway. These aerial and visionary horsemen were being exercised somewhere above the Kirkcudbright shore. It was not the first time the phenomenon had been seen within historic times, on the same fell-side, and at the same time of year. Canon Rawnsley writes to me,

"I have an idea that the fact that it took place at midsummer eve (June 27), the eve of the Feast of St. John, upon which occasion the shepherds hereabout used to light bonfires on the hills (no doubt a relic of the custom of the Beltane fires of old Norse days, perhaps of earlier sun-worship festivals of British times), may have had something to do with the naming of the mountain Blencathara of which Southen-fell (or Shepherd's-fell, as the name implies) is part. Blencathara, we are told, may mean the Hill of Demons, or the haunted hill. My suggestion is that the old sun-worshippers, who met in midsummer eve on Castrigg at the Druid circle or Donn-ring, saw just the same phenomenon as Strichet and Lancaster saw upon Southen-fell, and hence the name. Nay, perhaps the Druid circle was built where it is, because it was well in view of the Demon Hill."

Ed.]

[Footnote R: This is a fact of which I have been an eye-witness.--W. W. 1793.]

[Footnote S: The quotation is from Collins' 'The Passions', l. 60. Compare 'Personal Talk', l. 26.--Ed.]

[Footnote T: Alluding to this passage of Spenser:

... Her angel face As the great eye of Heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in that shady place. W. W. 1793.

This passage is in 'The Fairy Queen',