book II

. canto xii. stanza 36, speaks of

The whistler shrill, that whoso hears doth die.

Sir Walter Scott, in _The Lady of the Lake_, names the bird with which his character associated the cry--

And in the plover's shrilly strain The signal whistlers heard again.

"When the colliers of Leicestershire are flush of money, we are told, and indulge in a drinking bout, they sometimes hear the warning voice of the Seven Whistlers, get sobered and frightened, and will not descend the pit again till next day. Wordsworth speaks of a countryman who

... the seven birds hath seen, that never part, Seen the Seven Whistlers in their nightly rounds, And counted them.

"A few years ago, during a thunderstorm which passed over Leicestershire, and while vivid lightning was darting through the sky, immense flocks of birds were seen flying about, uttering doleful, affrighted cries as they passed, and keeping up for a long time a continual whistling like that made by some kinds of sea-birds. The number must have been immense, for the local newspapers mentioned the same phenomenon in different parts of the neighbouring counties of Northampton, Leicester, and Lincoln. A gentleman, conversing with a countryman on the following day, asked him what kind of birds he supposed them to have been. The man answered, 'They are what we call the Seven Whistlers,' and added that 'whenever they are heard it is considered a sign of some great calamity, and that the last time he had heard them was on the night before the deplorable explosion of fire damp at the Hartley Colliery.'"

In _Notes and Queries_ there are several allusions to this local superstition. In the Fifth Series (vol. ii. p. 264), Oct. 3, 1874, the editor gives a summary of several notes on the subject in vol. viii. of the Fourth Series (pp. 68, 134, 196, and 268), with additional information. He says "record was made of their having been heard in Leicestershire; and that the develin or martin, the swift, and the plover were probably of the whistling fraternity that frightened men. At p. 134 it was shown that Wordsworth had spoken of one who

... the seven birds hath seen, that never part, Seen the Seven Whistlers in their nightly rounds, And counted them.

On the same page, the swift is said to be the true whistler (but, as noted at page 196, the swifts never make nightly rounds), and the superstition is said to be common in our Midland Counties. At page 268, Mr. Pearson put on record that in Lancashire the plovers, whistling as they fly, are accounted heralds of ill, though sometimes of trivial accident, and that they are there called 'Wandering Jews,' and are said to be, or to carry with them, the ever-restless souls of those Jews who assisted at the Crucifixion. At page 336, the whistlers are chronicled as having been the harbingers of the great Hartley Colliery explosion. A correspondent, VIATOR, added, that on the Bosphorus there are flocks of birds, the size of a thrush, which fly up and down the channel, and are never seen to rest on land or water. The men who rowed Viator's caique told him that they were the souls of the damned, condemned to perpetual motion. The Seven Whistlers have not furnished chroniclers with later circumstances of their tuneful and awful progresses till a week or two ago.... The whistlers are also heard and feared in Portugal. See _The New Quarterly_ for July 1874, for a record of some travelling experience in that country."

Another extract from _Notes and Queries_ is to the following effect:--

"'Your Excellency laughs at ghosts. But there is no lie about the Seven Whistlers. Many a man besides me has heard them.'

"'Who are the Seven Whistlers? and have you seen them yourself?'

"'Not seen, thank Heaven; but I have heard them plenty of times. Some say they are the ghosts of children unbaptized, who are to know no rest till the judgment day. Once last winter I was going with donkeys and a mule to Caia. Just at the moment I stopped by the river bank to tighten the mule's girth, I heard the accursed whistlers coming down the wind along the river. I buried my head under the mule, and never moved till the danger was over; but they passed very near, for I heard the flap and rustle of their wings.'

"'What was the danger?'

"'If a man once sees them, heaven only knows what will not happen to him--death and damnation at the very least.'

"'I have seen them many times. I shot, or tried to shoot them!'

"'Holy Mother of God! you English are an awful people! You shot the Seven Whistlers?'

"'Yes; we call them marecos (teal or widgeon) in our country, and shoot them whenever we can. They are better to eat than wild ducks.'"

_Gabriel's Hounds._--"At Wednesbury in Staffordshire, the colliers going to their pits early in the morning hear the noise of a pack of hounds in the air, to which they give the name of Gabriel's Hounds, though the more sober and judicious take them only to be wild geese making this noise in their flight." Kennet MS., Lansd. 1033. (See Halliwell's _Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words_, vol. i. p. 388.) The peculiar cry or cackle, both of the Brent Goose and of the Bean or Harvest Goose (_Anser Segetum_), has often been likened to that of a pack of hounds in full cry--especially when the birds are on the wing during night. For some account of the superstition of "Gabriel's Hounds," see _Notes and Queries_, First Series, vol. v. pp. 534 and 596; and vol. xii. p. 470; Second Series, vol. i. p. 80; and Fourth Series, vol. vii. p. 299. In the last note these hounds are said to be popularly believed to be "the souls of unbaptized children wandering in the air till the day of judgment." They are also explained as "a thing in the air, that is said in these parts (Sheffield) to foretell calamity, sounding like a great pack of beagles in full cry." This quotation is from Charles Reade's _Put yourself in his place_, which contains many scraps of local folk-lore. The following is from the _Statistical History of Kirkmichael_, by the Rev. John Grant. "In the autumnal season, when the moon shines from a serene sky, often is the wayfaring traveller arrested by the music of the hills. Often struck with a more sober scene, he beholds the visionary hunters engaged in the chase, and pursuing the deer of the clouds, while the hollow rocks in long sounding echoes reverberate their cries." "There are several now living who assert that they have seen and heard this aërial hunting." See the _Statistical History of Scotland_, edited by Sir J. Sinclair, vol. xii. pp. 461, 462. Compare note to _An Evening Walk_, vol. i. p. 19.--ED.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Both these superstitions are prevalent in the midland Counties of England: that of "Gabriel's Hounds" appears to be very general over Europe; being the same as the one upon which the German Poet, Bürger, has founded his Ballad of _The Wild Huntsman_.--W. W. 1807.

COMPOSED BY THE SIDE OF GRASMERE LAKE. 1807

Composed 1806.--Published 1819

This sonnet was first published along with _The Waggoner_ in 1819. In 1820 it was classed among the "Miscellaneous Sonnets," and in 1827 it was transferred to the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty." Previous to 1837 this sonnet had no title.--ED.

Clouds, lingering yet, extend[1] in solid bars Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeled By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield A vivid repetition[2] of the stars; Jove, Venus, and the ruddy crest of Mars 5 Amid his fellows beauteously revealed At happy distance from earth's groaning field, Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars. Is it a mirror?--or the nether Sphere Opening to view the abyss in which she feeds 10 Her own calm fires?[3]--But list! a voice is near; Great Pan himself low-whispering through the reeds, "Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds Ravage the world, tranquillity is here!"

VARIANTS:

[1] 1827.

Eve's lingering clouds extend ... MS. and 1819.

[2] 1819.

A bright re-duplication ... MS.

[3] 1837.

Opening a vast abyss, while fancy feeds On the rich show? ... MS.

Opening its vast abyss, ... 1819.

Opening to view the abyss in which it feeds Its own calm fires?-- ... 1827.

IN THE GROUNDS OF COLEORTON, THE SEAT OF SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT, BART., LEICESTERSHIRE

Composed 1808.--Published 1815

[In the grounds of Coleorton these verses are engraved on a stone placed near the Tree, which was thriving and spreading when I saw it in the summer of 1841.--I. F.]

Included among the "Inscriptions."--ED.

The embowering rose, the acacia, and the pine, Will[1] not unwillingly their place resign; If but the Cedar thrive that near them stands, Planted by Beaumont's and by Wordsworth's hands. One wooed the silent Art with studious pains: 5 These groves have heard the Other's pensive strains; Devoted thus, their spirits did unite By interchange of knowledge and delight. May Nature's kindliest powers sustain the Tree, And Love protect it from all injury! 10 And when its potent branches, wide out-thrown, Darken the brow of this memorial Stone, [2]Here may some Painter sit in future days, Some future Poet meditate his lays; Not mindless of that distant age renowned 15 When Inspiration hovered o'er this ground, The haunt of him who sang how spear and shield In civil conflict met on Bosworth-field; And of that famous Youth, full soon removed From earth, perhaps by Shakspeare's self approved, 20 Fletcher's Associate, Jonson's Friend beloved.

About twelve years after the last visit of Wordsworth to Coleorton, referred to in the Fenwick note--of which the date should, I think, be 1842, not 1841--this cedar tree fell, uprooted during a storm. It was, however, as the Coleorton gardener who was then on the estate told me, replanted with much labour, and protected with care; although, the top branches being injured, it was never quite the same as it had been. During the night of the great storm on the 13th October 1880, however, it fell a second time, and perished irretrievably. The memorial stone remains, injured a good deal by the wear and tear of time; and the inscription is more than half obliterated. It is in a situation much more exposed to the elements than the other two inscriptions at Coleorton. He

who sang how spear and shield In civil conflict met on Bosworth-field,

was Sir John Beaumont, the brother of the dramatist, who wrote a poem on the battle of Bosworth. (See one of Wordsworth's notes to the _Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle_, p. 84.) The

famous Youth, full soon removed From earth,

was Francis Beaumont, the dramatist, who wrote in conjunction with Fletcher. He died at the age of twenty-nine.

In an undated letter addressed to Sir George Beaumont, Wordsworth wrote, "I like your ancestor's verses the more, the more I see of them. They are manly, dignified, and extremely harmonious. I do not remember in any author of that age such a series of well-tuned couplets."

In another letter written from Grasmere (probably in 1811) to Sir George, he says in reference to his own poems, "These inscriptions have all one fault, they are too long; but I was unable to do justice to the thoughts in less room. The second has brought Sir John Beaumont and his brother Francis so livelily to my mind that I recur to the plan of republishing the former's poems, perhaps in connection with those of Francis."

On November 16, 1811, he wrote to him again, "I am glad that the inscriptions please you. It did always appear to me, that inscriptions,

## particularly those in verse, or in a dead language, were never supposed

_necessarily_ to be the composition of those in whose name they appeared. If a more striking or more dramatic effect could be produced, I have always thought, that in an epitaph or memorial of any kind, a father or husband, etc., might be introduced speaking, without any absolute deception being intended; that is, the reader is understood to be at liberty to say to himself,--these verses, or this Latin, may be the composition of some unknown person, and not that of the father, widow, or friend, from whose hand or voice they profess to proceed.... I have altered the verses, and I have only to regret that the alteration is not more happily done. But I never found anything more difficult. I wished to preserve the expression _patrimonial grounds_,[A] but I found this impossible, on account of the awkwardness of the pronouns, he and his, as applied to Reynolds, and to yourself. This, even when it does not produce confusion, is always inelegant. I was, therefore, obliged to drop it; so that we must be content, I fear, with the inscription as it stands below. I hope it will do. I tried a hundred different ways, but cannot hit upon anything better...."--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1815.

Shall ... 1820.

The text of 1827 returns to that of 1815.

[2] And to a favourite resting-place invite, For coolness grateful and a sober light;

Inserted only in the editions of 1815 and 1820, and in a MS. letter to Sir George Beaumont, 1811.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] See p. 79, l. 13.--ED.

IN A GARDEN OF THE SAME

Composed 1811.--Published 1815

[This Niche is in the sandstone-rock in the winter-garden at Coleorton, which garden, as has been elsewhere said, was made under our direction out of an old unsightly quarry. While the labourers were at work, Mrs. Wordsworth, my sister and I used to amuse ourselves occasionally in scooping this seat out of the soft stone. It is of the size, with something of the appearance, of a stall in a Cathedral. This inscription is not engraven, as the former and the two following are, in the grounds.--I. F.]

Classed by Wordsworth among his "Inscriptions."--ED.

Oft is the medal faithful to its trust When temples, columns, towers, are laid in dust; And 'tis a common ordinance of fate That things obscure and small outlive the great: Hence, when yon mansion and the flowery trim 5 Of this fair garden, and its alleys dim, And all its stately trees, are passed away, This little Niche, unconscious of decay, Perchance may still survive. And be it known That it was scooped within[1] the living stone,-- 10 Not by the sluggish and ungrateful pains Of labourer plodding for his daily gains, But by an industry that wrought in love; With help from female hands, that proudly strove[2] To aid the work, what time these walks and bowers 15 Were shaped to cheer dark winter's lonely hours.[3]

This niche is still to be seen, although not quite "unconscious of decay." The growth of yew-trees, over and around it, has darkened the seat; and constant damp has decayed the soft stone. The niche having been scooped out by Mrs. Wordsworth and Dorothy, as well as by Wordsworth, suggests the cutting of the inscriptions on the Rock of Names in 1800, in which they all took part. (See vol. iii. pp. 61, 62.) On his return to Grasmere from Coleorton, Wordsworth wrote thus to Sir George Beaumont, in an undated letter, about this inscription:--"What follows I composed yesterday morning, thinking there might be no impropriety in placing it so as to be visible only to a person sitting within the niche, which is hollowed out of the sandstone in the winter-garden. I am told that this is, in the present form of the niche, impossible; but I shall be most ready, when I come to Coleorton, to scoop out a place for it, if Lady Beaumont think it worth while." Then follows the--

INSCRIPTION.

Oft is the medal faithful to its trust.

On Nov. 16, 1811, writing again to Sir George on this subject of the "Inscriptions," and evidently referring to this one on the "Niche," he says, "As to the 'Female,' and 'Male,' I know not how to get rid of it; for that circumstance gives the recess an appropriate interest.... On this account, the lines had better be suppressed, for it is not improbable that the altering of them might cost me more trouble than writing a hundred fresh ones."--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1815.

That it was fashioned in ... MS.

[2] 1815.

But by prompt hands of Pleasure and of Love, Female and Male; that emulously strove MS.

[3] 1827.

To shape the work, what time these walks and bowers Were framed to cheer dark winter's lonely hours. 1815.

... bleak ... MS.

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT, BART., AND IN HIS NAME, FOR AN URN, PLACED BY HIM AT THE TERMINATION OF A NEWLY-PLANTED AVENUE, IN THE SAME GROUNDS

Composed 1808.--Published 1815

One of the "Inscriptions."--ED.

Ye Lime-trees, ranged before this hallowed Urn, Shoot forth with lively power at Spring's return; And be not slow a stately growth to rear Of pillars, branching off from year to year, Till they have learned to frame a darksome aisle;-- 5 That may recal to mind that awful Pile[1] Where Reynolds, 'mid our country's noblest dead, In the last sanctity of fame is laid. --There, though by right the excelling Painter sleep Where Death and Glory a joint sabbath keep, 10 Yet not the less his Spirit would hold dear Self-hidden praise, and Friendship's private tear: Hence, on my patrimonial grounds, have I Raised this frail tribute to his memory; From youth a zealous follower of the Art[2] 15 That he professed; attached to him in heart; Admiring, loving, and with grief and pride Feeling what England lost when Reynolds died.

These Lime-trees now form "a stately growth of pillars," "a darksome aisle"; and the urn remains, as set up in 1807, at the end of the avenue.

The "awful Pile," where Reynolds lies, and where--

... Death and Glory a joint sabbath keep,

is, of course, Westminster Abbey.

After Wordsworth's return from Coleorton and Stockton to Grasmere, he wrote thus to Sir George Beaumont:--

"MY DEAR SIR GEORGE,

"Had there been room at the end of the small avenue of lime-trees for planting a spacious circle of the same trees, the Urn might have been placed in the centre, with the inscription thus altered,

"Ye lime-trees ranged around this hallowed urn, Shoot forth with lively power at spring's return! And be not slow a stately growth to rear, Bending your docile boughs from year to year, Till in a solemn concave they unite; Like that Cathedral Dome beneath whose height Reynolds, among our country's noble Dead, In the last sanctity of fame is laid. Here may some Painter sit in future days. Some future poet meditate his lays! Not mindless of that distant age, renowned, When inspiration hovered o'er this ground, The haunt of him who sang, how spear and shield In civil conflict met on Bosworth field, And of that famous youth (full soon removed From earth!) by mighty Shakespeare's self approved, Fletcher's associate, Jonson's friend beloved.

"The first couplet of the above, as it before stood, would have appeared ludicrous, if the stone had remained after the trees might have been gone. The couplet relating to the household virtues did not accord with the painter and the poet; the former being allegorical figures; the latter, living men."

This letter--which is not now in the Beaumont collection at Coleorton Hall--seems to imply that Wordsworth thought of combining the first couplet on the Urn with the last nine lines of the inscription for the stone behind the Cedar tree. But this was never carried out. The inscriptions are printed in the text as they were carved at Coleorton.--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1820.

Till ye have framed, at length, a darksome aisle, Like a recess within that sacred pile

MS. letter to Sir George Beaumont, 1811.

Till they at length have framed a darksome Aisle;-- Like a recess within that awful Pile 1815.

[2] 1815.

Hence, an obscure Memorial, without blame, In these domestic Grounds, may bear his name; Unblamed this votive Urn may oft renew Some mild sensations to his Genius due From One--a humble Follower of the Art

Five lines instead of three in MS. letter to Sir George Beaumont, 16th November, 1811.

FOR A SEAT IN THE GROVES OF COLEORTON

Composed November 19, 1811.--Published 1815

One of the "Inscriptions."--ED.

Beneath yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound, Rugged and high, of Charnwood's forest ground, Stand yet, but, Stranger! hidden from thy view The ivied Ruins of forlorn GRACE DIEU; Erst a religious House, which[1] day and night 5 With hymns resounded, and the chanted rite: And when those rites had ceased, the Spot gave birth To honourable Men of various worth:[2] There, on the margin of a streamlet wild, Did Francis Beaumont sport, an eager child; 10 There, under shadow of the neighbouring rocks, Sang youthful tales of shepherds and their flocks; Unconscious prelude to heroic themes, Heart-breaking tears, and melancholy dreams Of slighted love, and scorn, and jealous rage, 15 With which his genius shook[3] the buskined stage. Communities are lost, and Empires die, And things of holy use unhallowed lie;[A] They perish;--but the Intellect can raise,[4] From airy words alone, a Pile that ne'er decays. 20

Charnwood forest, in Leicestershire, is an almost treeless wold of between fifteen and sixteen thousand acres. The

eastern ridge, the craggy bound, Rugged and high,

refers probably to High Cadmon. The nunnery of Grace Dieu was a religious house, in a retired spot near the centre of the forest; and was built between 1236 and 1242. The English monasteries were suppressed in 1536; but Grace Dieu, with thirty others of the smaller monasteries, was allowed to continue some time longer. It was finally suppressed in 1539, when the site of the priory, with the demesne lands, was granted to Sir Humphrey Foster, who conveyed the whole to John Beaumont. Francis Beaumont, the dramatic poet, was born at Grace Dieu in 1586. He died in 1615, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

"William and I went to Grace Dieu last week. We were enchanted with the little valley and its nooks, and the rocks of Charnwood upon the hill."--Dorothy Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont, November 17, 1806.

This "Inscription" was composed at Grasmere, November 19, 1811, as the following extract from a letter of Wordsworth's to Lady Beaumont indicates:--"Grasmere, Wednesday, November 20, 1811.--My Dear Lady Beaumont--When you see this you will think I mean to overrun you with inscriptions. I do not mean to tax you with putting them up, only with reading them. The following I composed yesterday morning in a walk from Brathay, whither I had been to accompany my sister:--

FOR A SEAT IN THE GROVES OF COLEORTON.

Beneath yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound.

The thought of writing this inscription occurred to me many years ago."--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1820.

... that ... 1815.

[2] 1815.

But, when the formal Mass had long been stilled, And wise and mighty changes were fulfilled; That Ground gave birth to men of various Parts For Knightly Services and liberal Arts.

MS. letter to Lady Beaumont, 20th November, 1811.

[3] 1815.

With which his skill inspired ... MS.

[4] 1815.

But Truth and Intellectual Power can raise,

MS. letter to Lady Beaumont, 20th November, 1811.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] In the editions of 1815 and 1820, Wordsworth appended the following line from Daniel, as a note to the third last line of this "Inscription"--

Strait all that holy was unhallowed lies.

DANIEL. ED.

SONG AT THE FEAST OF BROUGHAM CASTLE,

UPON THE RESTORATION OF LORD CLIFFORD, THE SHEPHERD, TO THE ESTATES AND HONOURS OF HIS ANCESTORS

Composed 1807.--Published 1807

[See the note. This poem was composed at Coleorton while I was walking to and fro along the path that led from Sir George Beaumont's Farmhouse, where we resided, to the Hall, which was building at that time.--I. F.]

One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.

High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate, And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.-- The words of ancient time I thus translate, A festal strain that hath been silent long:--

"From town to town, from tower to tower, 5 The red rose is a gladsome flower. Her thirty years of winter past, The red rose is revived at last; She lifts her head for endless spring, For everlasting blossoming:[A] 10 Both roses flourish, red and white: In love and sisterly delight The two that were at strife are blended, And all old troubles[1] now are ended.-- Joy! joy to both! but most to her 15 Who is the flower of Lancaster! Behold her how She smiles to-day On this great throng, this bright array! Fair greeting doth she send to all From every corner of the hall; 20 But chiefly from above the board Where sits in state our rightful Lord, A Clifford to his own restored!

"They came with banner, spear, and shield; And it was proved in Bosworth-field. 25 Not long the Avenger was withstood-- Earth helped him with the cry of blood:[B] St George was for us, and the might Of blessed Angels crowned the right. Loud voice the Land has[2] uttered forth, 30 We loudest in the faithful north: Our fields rejoice, our mountains ring, Our streams proclaim a welcoming; Our strong-abodes and castles see The glory of their loyalty.[3] 35

"How glad is Skipton at this hour-- Though lonely, a deserted Tower;[4] Knight, squire, and yeoman, page and groom:[5] We have them at the feast of Brough'm. How glad Pendragon--though the sleep 40 Of years be on her!--She shall reap A taste of this great pleasure, viewing As in a dream her own renewing. Rejoiced is Brough, right glad I deem Beside her little humble stream; 45 And she that keepeth watch and ward Her statelier Eden's course to guard; They both are happy at this hour, Though each is but a lonely Tower:-- But here is perfect joy and pride 50 For one fair House by Emont's side, This day, distinguished without peer To see her Master and to cheer-- Him, and his Lady-mother dear!

"Oh! it was a time forlorn 55 When the fatherless was born-- Give her wings that she may fly, Or she sees her infant die! Swords that are with slaughter wild Hunt the Mother and the Child. 60 Who will take them from the light? --Yonder is a man in sight-- Yonder is a house--but where? No, they must not enter there. To the caves, and to the brooks, 65 To the clouds of heaven she looks; She is speechless, but her eyes Pray in ghostly agonies. Blissful Mary, Mother mild, Maid and Mother undefiled, 70 Save a Mother and her Child!

"Now Who is he that bounds with joy On Carrock's side, a Shepherd-boy? No thoughts hath he but thoughts that pass Light as the wind along the grass. 75 Can this be He who hither came In secret, like a smothered flame? O'er whom such thankful tears were shed For shelter, and a poor man's bread! God loves the Child; and God hath willed 80 That those dear words should be fulfilled, The Lady's words, when forced away The last she to her Babe did say: 'My own, my own, thy Fellow-guest I may not be; but rest thee, rest, 85 For lowly shepherd's life is best!'

"Alas! when evil men are strong No life is good, no pleasure long. The Boy must part from Mosedale's groves, And leave Blencathara's rugged coves,[C] 90 And quit the flowers that summer brings[D] To Glenderamakin's lofty springs; Must vanish, and his careless cheer Be turned to heaviness and fear. --Give Sir Lancelot Threlkeld praise! 95 Hear it, good man, old in days! Thou tree of covert and of rest For this young Bird that is distrest; Among thy branches safe he lay, And he was free to sport and play, 100 When falcons were abroad for prey.

"A recreant harp, that sings of fear And heaviness in Clifford's ear! I said, when evil men are strong, No life is good, no pleasure long, 105 A weak and cowardly untruth! Our Clifford was a happy Youth, And thankful through a weary time, That brought him up to manhood's prime. --Again he wanders forth at will, 110 And tends a flock from hill to hill:[6] His garb is humble; ne'er was seen Such garb with such a noble mien; Among the shepherd grooms no mate Hath he, a Child of strength and state! 115 Yet lacks not friends for simple[7] glee, Nor yet for higher sympathy.[8] To his side the fallow-deer Came, and rested without fear; The eagle, lord of land and sea, 120 Stooped down to pay him fealty;[E] And both the undying fish that swim Through Bowscale-tarn did wait on him;[F] The pair were servants of his eye In their immortality; 125 And glancing, gleaming, dark or bright, Moved to and fro, for his delight.[9] He knew the rocks which Angels haunt Upon[10] the mountains visitant; He hath kenned[11] them taking wing: 130 And into caves[12] where Faeries sing He hath entered; and been told By Voices how men lived of old. Among the heavens his eye can see The face of thing[13] that is to be; 135 And, if that men report him right, His tongue could whisper words of might.[14] --Now another day is come, Fitter hope, and nobler doom; He hath thrown aside his crook, 140 And hath buried deep his book; Armour rusting in his halls On the blood of Clifford calls;--[G] 'Quell the Scot,' exclaims the Lance-- Bear me to the heart of France, 145 Is the longing of the Shield-- Tell thy name, thou trembling Field; Field of death, where'er thou be, Groan thou with our victory! Happy day, and mighty hour, 150 When our Shepherd, in his power, Mailed and horsed, with lance and sword, To his ancestors restored Like a re-appearing Star, Like a glory from afar, 155 First shall head the flock of war!"

Alas! the impassioned minstrel did not know How, by Heaven's grace, this Clifford's heart was framed: How he, long forced in humble walks to go,[15] Was softened into feeling, soothed, and tamed. 160

Love had he found in huts where poor men lie; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in[16] the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.

In him the savage virtue of the Race, 165 Revenge, and all ferocious thoughts were dead: Nor did he change; but kept in lofty place The wisdom which adversity had bred.

Glad were the vales, and every cottage-hearth; The Shepherd-lord was honoured more and more; 170 And, ages after he was laid in earth, "The good Lord Clifford" was the name he bore.

The original text of this _Song_ was altered but little in succeeding editions, and was not changed at all till 1836 and 1845. The following is Wordsworth's explanatory note, appended to the poem in all the editions:--

"Henry Lord Clifford, etc. etc., who is the subject of this Poem, was the son of John, Lord Clifford, who was slain at Towton Field,[H] which John, Lord Clifford, as is known to the Reader of English History, was the person who after the battle of Wakefield slew, in the pursuit, the young Earl of Rutland, Son of the Duke of York who had fallen in the battle, 'in part of revenge' (say the Authors of the _History of Cumberland and Westmoreland_); 'for the Earl's Father had slain his.' A deed which worthily blemished the author (saith Speed); But who, as he adds, 'dare promise any thing temperate of himself in the heat of martial fury? chiefly, when it was resolved not to leave any branch of the York line standing; for so one maketh this Lord to speak.' This, no doubt, I would observe by the bye, was an action sufficiently in the vindictive spirit of the times, and yet not altogether so bad as represented; 'for the Earl was no child, as some writers would have him, but able to bear arms, being sixteen or seventeen years of age, as is evident from this (say the Memoirs of the Countess of Pembroke, who was laudably anxious to wipe away, as far as could be, this stigma from the illustrious name to which she was born); that he was the next Child to King Edward the Fourth, which his mother had by Richard Duke of York, and that King was then eighteen years of age: and for the small distance betwixt her Children, see Austin Vincent in his book of Nobility, page 622, where he writes of them all. It may further be observed, that Lord Clifford, who was then himself only twenty-five years of age, had been a leading Man and Commander, two or three years together in the Army of Lancaster, before this time; and, therefore, would be less likely to think that the Earl of Rutland might be entitled to mercy from his youth.--But, independent of this act, at best a cruel and savage one, the Family of Clifford had done enough to draw upon them the vehement hatred of the House of York: so that after the Battle of Towton there was no hope for them but in flight and concealment. Henry, the subject of the Poem, was deprived of his estate and honours during the space of twenty-four years; all which time he lived as a shepherd in Yorkshire, or in Cumberland, where the estate of his Father-in-law (Sir Lancelot Threlkeld) lay. He was restored to his estate and honours in the first year of Henry the Seventh. It is recorded that, 'when called to parliament, he behaved nobly and wisely; but otherwise came seldom to London or the Court; and rather delighted to live in the country, where he repaired several of his Castles, which had gone to decay during the late troubles.' Thus far is chiefly collected from Nicholson and Burn; and I can add, from my own knowledge, that there is a tradition current in the village of Threlkeld and its neighbourhood, his principal retreat, that, in the course of his shepherd life, he had acquired great astronomical knowledge. I cannot conclude this note without adding a word upon the subject of those numerous and noble feudal Edifices, spoken of in the Poem, the ruins of some of which are, at this day, so great an ornament to that interesting country. The Cliffords had always been distinguished for an honourable pride in these Castles; and we have seen that after the wars of York and Lancaster they were rebuilt; in the civil Wars of Charles the First, they were again laid waste, and again restored almost to their former magnificence by the celebrated Lady Anne Clifford, Countess of Pembroke, etc. etc. Not more than twenty-five years after this was done, when the Estates of Clifford had passed into the Family of Tufton, three of these Castles, namely Brough, Brougham, and Pendragon, were demolished, and the timber and other materials sold by Thomas Earl of Thanet. We will hope that, when this order was issued, the Earl had not consulted the text of Isaiah, 58th Chap. 12th Verse, to which the inscription placed over the gate of Pendragon Castle, by the Countess of Pembroke (I believe his Grandmother) at the time she repaired that structure, refers the reader. '_And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places; thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations, and thou shalt be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell in._' The Earl of Thanet, the present possessor of the Estates, with a due respect for the memory of his ancestors, and a proper sense of the value and beauty of these remains of antiquity, has (I am told) given orders that they shall be preserved from all depredations."

Compare the reference to the "Shepherd-lord" in the first canto of _The White Doe of Rylstone_, p. 116, and the topographical allusions there, with this _Song_. Compare also the life of Anne Clifford, in Hartley Coleridge's _Lives of Distinguished Northerners_.

_High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate, And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song._

Brougham Castle, past which the river Emont flows, is about two miles out of Penrith, on the Appleby Road. It is now a ruin, but was once a place of importance. The larger part of it was built by Roger, Lord Clifford, son of Isabella de Veteripont, who placed over the inner door the inscription, "This made Roger." His grandson added the eastern part. The castle was frequently laid waste by the Scottish Bands, and during the Wars of the Roses. The Earl of Cumberland entertained James I. within it, in 1617, on the occasion of the king's last return from Scotland; but it seems to have "layen ruinous" from that date, and to have suffered much during the civil wars in the reign of Charles I. In 1651-52 it was repaired by Lady Anne Clifford, Countess Dowager of Pembroke, who wrote thus--"After I had been there myself to direct the building of it, did I cause my old decayed castle of Brougham to be repaired, and also the tower called the "Roman Tower," in the same old castle, and the court-house, for keeping my courts in, with some dozen or fourteen rooms to be built in it upon the old foundation." (_Pembroke Memoirs_, i. p. 216.) After the time of the Countess Anne, the castle was neglected, and much of the stone, timber, and lead disposed of at public sales: the wainscotting being purchased by the neighbouring villagers.

_Her thirty years of winter past, The red rose is revived at last._

This refers to the thirty years interval between 1455 (the first battle of St. Albans in the wars of the Roses) and 1485 (the battle of Bosworth and the accession of Henry VII.)

_Both roses flourish, red and white_,

Alluding to the marriage of Henry VII. with Elizabeth, which united the two warring lines of York and Lancaster.

_And it was proved in Bosworth-field._

The battle of Bosworth Field, in Leicestershire, was fought in 1485.

_Not long the Avenger was withstood-- Earth helped him with the cry of blood._

Henry VII.--who, as Henry, Earl of Richmond, last scion of the line of Lancaster, had fled to Brittany--returned with Morton, the exiled Bishop of Ely, landed at Milford, advanced through Wales, and met the royal army at Bosworth, where Richard was slain, and Henry crowned king on the battlefield. The "cry of blood" refers, doubtless, to the murder of the young princes in the Tower.

_How glad is Skipton at this hour-- Though lonely, a deserted Tower._

Skipton is the "capital" of the Craven district of Yorkshire, as Barrow is the capital of the Furness district of Lancashire and Westmoreland. The castle of Skipton was the chief residence of the Cliffords. Architecturally it is of two periods: the round tower dating from the reign of Edward II., and the rest from that of Henry VIII. From the time of Robert de Clifford, who fell at Bannockburn (1314), until the seventeenth century, the estates of the Cliffords extended from Skipton to Brougham Castle--seventy miles--with only a short interruption of ten miles. The "Shepherd-lord" Clifford of this poem was attainted--as explained in Wordsworth's note--by the triumphant House of York. He was "committed by his mother to the care of certain shepherds, whose wives had served her," and who kept him concealed both in Cumberland, and at Londesborough, in Yorkshire, where his mother's (Lady Margaret Vesci) own estates lay. The old "Tower" of Skipton Castle was "deserted" during these years when the "Shepherd-lord" was concealed in Cumberland.

_How glad Pendragon--though the sleep Of years be on her!_

Pendragon Castle, in a narrow dell in the forest of Mallerstang, near the source of the Eden, south of Kirkby-Stephen, was another of the castles of the Cliffords. Its building was traditionally ascribed to Uter Pendragon, of Stonehenge celebrity, who was fabled to have tried to make the Eden flow round the castle of Pendragon: hence the distich--

Let Uter Pendragon do what he can, Eden will run where Eden ran.

In the Countess of Pembroke's _Memoirs_ (vol. i. pp. 22, 228), we are told that Idonea de Veteripont "made a great part of her residence in Westmoreland at Brough Castle, near Stanemore, and at Pendragon Castle, in Mallerstang." The castle was burned and destroyed by Scottish raiders in 1341, and for 140 years it was in a ruinous state. It is probably to this that reference is made in the phrase, "though the sleep of years be on her." During the attainder of Henry Lord Clifford, in the reign of Edward IV., part of this estate of Mallerstang was granted to Sir William Parr of Kendal Castle. It was again destroyed during the civil wars of the Stuarts, and was restored, along with Skipton and Brougham, by Lady Anne Clifford, in 1660, who put up an inscription "... Repaired in 1660, so as she came to lye in it herself for a little while in October 1661, after it had lain ruinous without timber or any other covering since 1541. Isaiah, chap. lviii. ver. 12." It was again demolished in 1685.

_Rejoiced is Brough, right glad I deem Beside her little humble stream._

Brough--the Verterae of the Romans--is called, for distinction's sake, "Brough-under-Stainmore" (or "Stanemore"). The "little humble stream" is Hillbeck, formerly Hellebeck--(it was said to derive its name from the waters rushing or "helleing" down the channel)--which descends from Warcop Fell, runs through Market Brough, and joins the Eden below it. The date of the building of the castle of Brough is uncertain, but it is probably older than the Conquest. It was sacked by the Scottish King William in 1174. It was "one of the chief residences" of Idonea de Veteripont (above referred to); for "then it was in its prime." (_Pemb. Mem._, vol. i. p. 22.) Probably she rebuilt it, and changed it from a tower--like Pendragon--into a castle. In the _Pembroke Memoirs_ (i. p. 108), we read of its subsequent destruction by fire. "A great misfortune befell Henry Lord Clifford, some two years before his death, which happened in 1521; his ancient and great castle of Brough-under-Stanemore was set on fire by a casual mischance, a little after he had kept a great Christmas there, so as all the timber and lead were utterly consumed, and nothing left but the bare walls, which since are more and more consumed, and quite ruinated." This same Countess Anne Pembroke began to repair it in April 1660, "at her exceeding great charge and cost." She put up an inscription over the gate similar to the one which she inscribed at Pendragon.

_And she that keepeth watch and ward Her statelier Eden's course to guard._

Doubtless Appleby Castle. Its origin is equally uncertain. Before 1422, John Lord Clifford, "builded that strong and fine artificial gate-house, all arched with stone, and decorated with the arms of the Veteriponts, Cliffords, and Percys, which with several parts of the castle walls was defaced and broken down in the civil war of 1648." His successor, Thomas, Lord Clifford, "built the chiefest part of the castle towards the east, as the hall, the chapel, and the great chamber." This was in 1454. The Countess Anne Pembroke wrote of Appleby Castle thus (_Pemb. Mem._, vol. i. p. 187): "In 1651 I continued to live in Appleby Castle a whole year, and spent much time in repairing it and Brougham Castle, to make them as habitable as I could, though Brougham was very ruinous, and much out of repair. And in this year, the 21st of April, I helped to lay the foundation stone of the middle wall of the great tower of Appleby Castle, called "Cæsar's Tower," to the end it might be repaired again, and made habitable, if it pleased God (Is. lviii. 12), after it had stood without a roof or covering, or one chamber habitable in it, since about 1567," etc. etc.

_One fair House by Emont's side._

Brougham Castle.

_Him, and his Lady-mother dear!_

Lady Margaret, daughter and heiress of Lord Vesci, who married John, Lord Clifford--the Clifford of Shakespeare's _Henry VI._ He was killed at Ferrybridge near Knottingley in 1461. Their son was Henry, "the Shepherd-lord." His mother is buried in Londesborough Church, near Market Weighton.

_Now Who is he that bounds with joy On Carrock's side, a Shepherd-boy?_

Carrock-fell is three miles south-west from Castle Sowerby, in Cumberland.

_The Boy must part from Mosedale's groves, And leave Blencathara's rugged coves._

There are many "Mosedales" in the English Lake District. The one referred to here is to the north of Blencathara or Saddleback.

_And quit the flowers that summer brings To Glenderamakin's lofty springs._

The river Glenderamakin rises in the lofty ground to the north of Blencathara.

_--Give Sir Lancelot Threlkeld praise!_ ... _Thou tree of covert and of rest For this young Bird that is distrest._

It was on Sir Lancelot Threlkeld's estates in Cumberland that the young Lord was concealed, disguised as a shepherd-boy. He was the "tree of covert" for the young "Bird" Henry Clifford. Compare _The Waggoner_, ll. 628-39 (vol. iii. p. 100)--

And see, beyond that hamlet small, The ruined towers of Threlkeld-hall, Lurking in a double shade, By trees and lingering twilight made! There, at Blencathara's rugged feet, Sir Lancelot gave a safe retreat To noble Clifford; from annoy Concealed the persecuted boy, Well pleased in rustic garb to feed His flock, and pipe on shepherd's reed Among this multitude of hills, Crags, woodlands, waterfalls, and rills.

The old hall of Threlkeld has long been a ruin. Its only habitable part has been a farmhouse for many years.

_And both the undying fish that swim Through Bowscale-tarn did wait on him._

Bowscale Tarn is to the north of Blencathara. Its stream joins the Caldew river.

_And into caves where Faeries sing He hath entered._

Compare the previous reference to Blencathara's "rugged coves." There are many such on this mountain.

_Alas! the impassioned minstrel did not know How, by Heaven's grace, this Clifford's heart was framed: How he, long forced in humble walks to go, Was softened into feeling, soothed, and tamed._

After restoration to his ancestral estates, the Shepherd-lord preferred to live in comparative retirement. He spent most of his time at Barden Tower (see notes to _The White Doe of Rylstone_), which he enlarged, and where he lived with a small retinue. He was much at Bolton (which was close at hand), and there he studied astronomy and alchemy, aided by the monks. It is to the time when he lived at Threlkeld, however--wandering as a shepherd-boy, over the ridges and around the coves of Blencathara, amongst the groves of Mosedale, and by the lofty springs of Glenderamakin--that Wordsworth refers in the lines,

_Love had he found in huts where poor men lie; His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills._

He was at Flodden in 1513, when nearly sixty years of age, leading there the "flower of Craven."

From Penigent to Pendle Hill, From Linton to long Addingham, And all that Craven's coasts did till, They with the lusty Clifford came.

Compare, in the first canto of _The White Doe of Rylstone_ (p. 117)--

when he, with spear and shield, Rode full of years to Flodden-field.

He died in 1523, and was buried in the choir of Bolton Priory.

The following is Sarah Coleridge's criticism of the _Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle_, in the editorial note to her father's _Biographia Literaria_ (vol. ii. ch. ix. p. 152, ed. 1847):--

"The transitions and vicissitudes in this noble lyric I have always thought rendered it one of the finest specimens of modern subjective poetry which our age has seen. The ode commences in a tone of high gratulation and festivity--a tone not only glad, but _comparatively_ even jocund and light-hearted. The Clifford is restored to the home, the honours and estates of his ancestors. Then it sinks and falls away to the remembrance of tribulation--times of war and bloodshed, flight and terror, and hiding away from the enemy--times of poverty and distress, when the Clifford was brought, a little child, to the shelter of a northern valley. After a while it emerges from those depths of sorrow--gradually rises into a strain of elevated tranquillity and contemplative rapture; through the power of imagination, the beautiful and impressive aspects of nature are brought into relationship with the spirit of him, whose fortunes and character form the subject of the piece, and are represented as gladdening and exalting it, whilst they keep it _pure and unspotted from the world_. Suddenly the Poet is carried on with greater animation and passion: he has returned to the point whence he started--flung himself back into the tide of stirring life and moving events. All is to come over again, struggle and conflict, chances and changes of war, victory and triumph, overthrow and desolation. I know nothing, in lyric poetry, more beautiful or affecting than the final transition from this part of the ode, with its rapid metre, to the slow elegiac stanzas at the end, when, from the warlike fervour and eagerness, the jubilant strain which has just been described, the Poet passes back into the sublime silence of Nature, gathering amid her deep and quiet bosom a more subdued and solemn tenderness than he had manifested before; it is as if from the heights of the imaginative intellect, his spirit had retreated into the recesses of a profoundly thoughtful Christian heart."

Professor Henry Reed said of this poem--"Had he never written another ode, this alone would set him at the head of the lyric poets of England."--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1815.

... sorrows ... 1807.

[2] 1827.

... hath ... 1807.

[3] 1807.

... royalty. 1815.

The text of 1820 returns to that of 1807.

[4] 1845.

Though she is but a lonely Tower! Silent, deserted of her best, Without an Inmate or a Guest, 1807.

Deserted, emptied of her best. MS.

To vacancy and silence left; Of all her guardian sons bereft-- 1820.

[5] 1836.

Knight, Squire, or Yeoman, Page, or Groom; 1807.

[6] 1807.

... on vale and hill: MS.

[7] 1845.

... solemn ... 1807.

[8] 1845. This line was previously three lines--

And a chearful company, That learn'd of him submissive ways; And comforted his private days. 1807.

A spirit-soothing company, 1836.

[9] 1836.

They moved about in open sight, To and fro, for his delight. 1807.

[10] 1836.

On ... 1807.

[11] 1807.

... heard ... MS.

[12] 1836.

And the Caves ... 1807.

[13] 1836.

Face of thing ... 1807.

[14] C. and 1840.

And, if Men report him right, He can whisper words of might. 1807.

He could whisper ... 1827.

And, if that men report him right, He could whisper ... 1836.

[15] 1845.

Alas! the fervent Harper did not know That for a tranquil Soul the Lay was framed, Who, long compell'd in humble walks to go, 1807.

[16] 1807.

... of ... MS.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Compare _Hudibras_,