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Title: The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 8 (of 8)
Author: Wordsworth, William
Language: English
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[Illustration: _William Wordsworth_

_after Thomas Woolner_

_Printed by Ch Wittmann Paris_]

                          THE POETICAL WORKS
                          WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

                               EDITED BY
                            WILLIAM KNIGHT

                               VOL. VIII

                     [Illustration: _Gallow Hill_


                        MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.
                       New York: Macmillan & Co.

                        _All rights reserved._



  Lines suggested by a Portrait from the Pencil of F. Stone            1

  The foregoing Subject resumed                                        6

  To a Child                                                           7

  Lines written in the Album of the Countess of Lonsdale,
      Nov. 5, 1834                                                     8


  “Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant”                          12

  To the Moon                                                         13

  To the Moon                                                         15

  Written after the Death of Charles Lamb                             17

  Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg                     24

  Upon seeing a Coloured Drawing of the Bird of Paradise
      in an Album                                                     29

  “Desponding Father! mark this altered bough”                        31

  “Four fiery steeds impatient of the rein”                           31

  To ----                                                             32

  Roman Antiquities discovered at Bishopstone, Herefordshire          33

  St. Catherine of Ledbury                                            34

  “By a blest Husband guided, Mary came”                              35

  “Oh what a Wreck! how changed in mien and speech!”                  36


  November 1836                                                       37

  To a Redbreast--(In Sickness)                                       38


  “Six months to six years added he remained”                         39

  Memorials of a Tour in Italy, 1837--To Henry Crabb Robinson         41

      I. Musings near Aquapendente, April, 1837                       42

     II. The Pine of Monte Mario at Rome                              58

    III. At Rome                                                      59

     IV. At Rome--Regrets--in Allusion to Niebuhr and other
             Modern Historians                                        60

      V. Continued                                                    61

     VI. Plea for the Historian                                       61

    VII. At Rome                                                      62

   VIII. Near Rome, in Sight of St. Peter’s                           63

     IX. At Albano                                                    64

      X. “Near Anio’s stream, I spied a gentle Dove”                  65

     XI. From the Alban Hills, looking towards Rome                   65

    XII. Near the Lake of Thrasymene                                  66

   XIII. Near the same Lake                                           67

    XIV. The Cuckoo at Laverna                                        67

     XV. At the Convent of Camaldoli                                  72

    XVI. Continued                                                    73

   XVII. At the Eremite or Upper Convent of Camaldoli                 74

  XVIII. At Vallombrosa                                               75

    XIX. At Florence                                                  78

    XX. Before the Picture of the Baptist, by Raphael,
            in the Gallery at Florence                                79

    XXI. At Florence--From Michael Angelo                             80

   XXII. At Florence--From Michael Angelo                             81

  XXIII. Among the Ruins of a Convent in the Apennines                82

   XXIV. In Lombardy                                                  83

    XXV. After leaving Italy                                          84

   XXVI. Continued                                                    85

  At Bologna, in Remembrance of the late Insurrections,
      1837.--I.                                                       86

      II. Continued                                                   86

      III. Concluded                                                  87

  “What if our numbers barely could defy”                             87

  A Night Thought                                                     88

  The Widow on Windermere Side                                        89


  To the Planet Venus                                                 92

  “Hark! ’tis the Thrush, undaunted, undeprest”                       93

  “’Tis He whose yester-evening’s high disdain”                       94

  Composed at Rydal on May Morning, 1838                              94

  Composed on a May Morning, 1838                                     97

  A Plea for Authors, May 1838                                        99

  “Blest Statesman He, whose Mind’s unselfish will”                  101

  Valedictory Sonnet                                                 102


  Sonnets upon the Punishment of Death--

     I. Suggested by the View of Lancaster Castle (on the
           Road from the South)                                      103

    II. “Tenderly do we feel by Nature’s law”                        104

   III. “The Roman Consul doomed his sons to die”                    105

    IV. “Is _Death_, when evil against good has fought”              106

     V. “Not to the object specially designed”                       106

    VI. “Ye brood of conscience--Spectres! that frequent”            107

   VII. “Before the world had past her time of youth”                107

  VIII. “Fit retribution, by the moral code”                         108

    IX. “Though to give timely warning and deter”                    109

     X. “Our bodily life, some plead, that life the shrine”          109

    XI. “Ah, think how one compelled for life to abide”              110

   XII. “See the Condemned alone within his cell”                    110

  XIII. Conclusion                                                   111

   XIV. Apology                                                      112

  “Men of the Western World! in Fate’s dark book”                    112


  To a Painter                                                       114

  On the same Subject                                                115

  Poor Robin                                                         116

  On a Portrait of the Duke of Wellington upon the Field
      of Waterloo, by Haydon                                         118


  Epitaph in the Chapel-Yard of Langdale, Westmoreland               120


  “Intent on gathering wool from hedge and brake”                    122

  Prelude, prefixed to the Volume entitled “Poems chiefly
      of Early and Late Years”                                       123

  Floating Island                                                    125

  “The Crescent-moon, the Star of Love”                              127

  “_A Poet!_--He hath put his heart to school”                       127

  “The most alluring clouds that mount the sky”                      128

  “Feel for the wrongs to universal ken”                             129

  In Allusion to various Recent Histories and Notices of
      the French Revolution                                          130

      Continued                                                      131

      Concluded                                                      131

  “Lo! where she stands fixed in a saint-like trance”                132

  The Norman Boy                                                     132

  The Poet’s Dream                                                   135

  Suggested by a Picture of the Bird of Paradise                     140

  To the Clouds                                                      142

  Airey-Force Valley                                                 146

  “Lyre! though such power do in thy magic live”                     147

  Love lies Bleeding                                                 148

  “They call it Love lies bleeding! rather say”                      150

  Companion to the Foregoing                                         150

  The Cuckoo-Clock                                                   151

  “Wansfell! this Household has a favoured lot”                      153

  “Though the bold wings of Poesy affect”                            154

  “Glad sight wherever new with old”                                 154


  “While beams of orient light shoot wide and high”                  156

  Inscription for a Monument in Crosthwaite Church, in
      the Vale of Keswick                                            157

  To the Rev. Christopher Wordsworth, D.D., Master of
      Harrow School                                                  162


  “So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive”                           164

  On the projected Kendal and Windermere Railway                     166

  “Proud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old”                  167

  At Furness Abbey                                                   168


  “Forth from a jutting ridge, around whose base”                    170

  The Westmoreland Girl                                              172

  At Furness Abbey                                                   176

  “Yes! thou art fair, yet be not moved”                             176

  “What heavenly smiles! O Lady mine”                                177

  To a Lady                                                          177

  To the Pennsylvanians                                              179

  “Young England--what is then become of Old”                        180


  Sonnet                                                             181

  “Where lies the truth? has Man, in wisdom’s creed”                 182

  To Lucca Giordano                                                  183

  “Who but is pleased to watch the moon on high”                     184

  Illustrated Books and Newspapers                                   184

  Sonnet. To an Octogenarian                                         185

  “I know an aged Man constrained to dwell”                          186

  “The unremitting voice of nightly streams”                         187

  “How beautiful the Queen of Night, on high”                        188

  On the Banks of a Rocky Stream                                     188

  Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of
      Early Childhood                                                189

                           WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
                                AND BY
                           DOROTHY WORDSWORTH
                  NOT INCLUDED IN THE EDITION OF 1849-50


  Sonnet, on seeing Miss Helen Maria Williams weep at a
      Tale of Distress                                               209

  Lines written by William Wordsworth as a School Exercise
      at Hawkshead, Anno Ætatis 14                                   211

                           1792 (or earlier)

  “Sweet was the walk along the narrow lane”                         214

  “When Love was born of heavenly line”                              215

  The Convict                                                        217


  “The snow-tracks of my friends I see”                              219

  The Old Cumberland Beggar (MS. Variants, not inserted
      in Vol. I.)                                                    220


  Andrew Jones                                                       221

  “There is a shapeless crowd of unhewn stones”                      223


  “Among all lovely things my Love had been”                         231

  “Along the mazes of this song I go”                                233

  “The rains at length have ceas’d, the winds are still’d”           233

  “Witness thou”                                                     234

  Wild-Fowl                                                          234

  Written in a Grotto                                                234

  Home at Grasmere                                                   235

  “Shall he who gives his days to low pursuits”                      257


  “I find it written of Simonides”                                   258


  “No whimsey of the purse is here”                                  258


  “Peaceful our valley, fair and green”                              259

  “Ah! if I were a lady gay”                                         262


  To the Evening Star over Grasmere Water, July 1806                 263

  Michael Angelo in Reply to the Passage upon his Statue
      of Night sleeping                                              263

  “Come, gentle Sleep, Death’s image tho’ thou art”                  264

  “Brook, that hast been my solace days and week”                    265

  Translation from Michael Angelo                                    265


  George and Sarah Green                                             266


  “The Scottish Broom on Bird-nest brae”                             270

  Placard for a Poll bearing an old Shirt                            271

  “Critics, right honourable Bard, decree”                           271


  “Through Cumbrian wilds, in many a mountain cove”                  272

  “My Son! behold the tide already spent”                            273


  Author’s Voyage down the Rhine                                     273


  “These vales were saddened with no common gloom”                   275

  Translation of Part of the First Book of the _Æneid_               276


  “Arms and the Man I sing, the first who bore”                      281


  Lines addressed to Joanna H. from Gwerndwffnant in June 1826       282

  Holiday at Gwerndwffnant, May 1826                                 284

  Composed when a Probability existed of our being obliged
      to quit Rydal Mount as a Residence                             289

  “I, whose pretty Voice you hear”                                   295


  To my Niece Dora                                                   297


  “My Lord and Lady Darlington”                                      298


  To the Utilitarians                                                299


  “Throned in the Sun’s descending car”                              300

  “And oh! dear soother of the pensive breast”                       301


  “Said red-ribboned Evans”                                          301


  On an Event in Col. Evans’s Redoubted Performances in Spain        303


  “Wouldst thou be gathered to Christ’s chosen flock”                303

  Protest against the Ballot, 1838                                   304

  “Said Secrecy to Cowardice and Fraud”                              304

  A Poet to his Grandchild                                           305


  On a Portrait of I.F., painted by Margaret Gillies                 306

  To I.F.                                                            307

  “Oh Bounty without measure, while the Grace”                       308


  The Eagle and the Dove                                             309

  Grace Darling                                                      310

  “When Severn’s sweeping flood had overthrown”                      314

  The Pillar of Trajan                                               314


  “Deign, Sovereign Mistress! to accept a lay”                       319


  Ode, performed in the Senate-House, Cambridge, on the 6th of
      July 1847, at the First Commencement after the Installation
      of His Royal Highness the Prince Albert, Chancellor of the
      University                                                     320

  To Miss Sellon                                                     325

  “The worship of this Sabbath morn”                                 325


        I. Great Britain                                             329

       II. America                                                   380

      III. France                                                    421

  ERRATA AND ADDENDA LIST                                            431

  INDEX TO THE POEMS                                                 433

  INDEX TO THE FIRST LINES                                           451


The American Bibliography is almost entirely the work of Mrs. St. John
of Ithaca, and is the result of laborious and careful critical research
on her part. The French Bibliography is not so full. I have been
assisted in it mainly by M. Legouis at Lyons, and by workers at the
British Museum. I have also collected a German Bibliography, but it is
in too incomplete a state for publication in its present form.

The English Bibliography is fuller than any of its predecessors; but
there is no such thing as finality in such work, especially when an
addition to the literature of the subject is made nearly every week.
Many kind friends, and coadjutors, have assisted me in it, amongst whom
I may mention Dr. Garnett of the British Museum, and _very specially_
Mr. Tutin, of Hull, and also Mr. John J. Smith, St. Andrews, and Mr.
Maclauchlan, Dundee. If I omit, either here or elsewhere, to record the
assistance which I have received from any one, in my efforts to make
this edition of Wordsworth as perfect as is possible at this stage of
literary criticism and editorship, I sincerely regret it; but many of
my correspondents have specially requested that no mention should be
made of their names or their services.

In the Preface to the first volume of this edition there was an
unfortunate omission. In returning the final proofs to press, I
accidentally transmitted an uncorrected one, in which two names did
not appear. They were those of Mr. Thomas Hutchinson, Dublin, and
Mr. S. C. Hill, of Hughli College, Bengal. The former kindly revised
most of the sheets of Volumes I. and II., and corrected errors,
besides making other valuable suggestions and additions. When his own
Clarendon Press edition of Wordsworth was being prepared for press,
Mr. Hutchinson asked permission to incorporate in it materials which
were not afterwards inserted. This I granted cordially, as a similar
permission had been given to Professor Dowden for his Aldine edition.
The unfortunate omission of Mr. Hutchinson’s name was not discovered
by me till after the issue of volumes I. and II. (which appeared
simultaneously), and it was first brought under my notice by Mr.
Hutchinson’s own letters to the newspapers. My debt to Mr. Hutchinson
is great; and, although I have already thanked him for the services
which he has rendered to the world in connection with Wordsworthian
literature, I may perhaps be allowed to repeat the acknowledgment now.
The revised sheets of Vols. I. and II. of this edition were, however,
submitted to others at the same time that they were sent to Mr.
Hutchinson; more especially to the late Mr. Dykes Campbell, and on his
death to Mr. Belinfante, and then to the late Mr. Kinghorn, all of whom
were engaged by my publishers to assist in the work entrusted to me.
They “turned on the microscope” on my own work, and Mr. Hutchinson’s;
and to them I have been indebted in many ways.

Mr. Hill’s services, in tracing the sources of numerous quotations from
other poets which occur in Wordsworth’s text, have been great. He sent
me his discoveries, unsolicited, and I wish to express very cordially
my indebtedness to him. To discover some of these quotations--there
are several hundreds of them--cost me much labour, before I had the
pleasure of hearing from, or knowing, Mr. Hill; and his assistance
in this matter has been greater than that of any other person. It
will be seen that I have failed--after much study and extensive
correspondence--to discover them all.

In addition to actual quotations--indicated by Wordsworth by inverted
commas in his poems--to trace parallel passages from other poets, or
phrases which may have suggested to him what he recast and glorified,
has seemed to me work not unworthy of accomplishment. At the same time,
and in the same connection, to discover the somewhat similar debts
of later poets to Wordsworth, and to indicate this here and there in
footnotes, may not be wholly useless to posterity.

My obligations to my friend, Mr. Dykes Campbell, are greater than I can
adequately express. He supplied me with much material, drawn from many
quarters; and, although he did not always mention his sources, I had
implicit confidence in him, both as a literary man and a friend. After
his death, through the kindness of Mrs. Campbell, I examined some MS.
volumes of _Wordsworthiana_ written by him, which were of much use to

Some of these were from unknown sources, which I should perhaps have
traced out before making use of them, but, in all my Wordsworth work, I
have acted from first to last on the legal opinion of a distinguished
Judge, that the heir of the writer of literary work could alone
authorise its subsequent publication; and, since the heirs of the Poet
had kindly given me permission to collect and publish his works, I did
so, with a view to the benefit of posterity.

Some of Mr. Campbell’s material was derived from MSS. now in the
possession of Mr. T. Norton Longman, and I have to express my sincere
regret that in the earlier volumes I copied from Mr. Campbell’s
transcripts of these MSS.--which were lent to him on the condition
that no public use should be made of them without Mr. Longman’s
permission--some variations of the text, without mentioning the source
whence they were derived.

I was unaware that these MSS. were lent to Mr. Campbell with the
condition attached, and regret very much that I am unable to trust my
memory to indicate now what variations of text I have quoted from them.
But I may add that Mr. Longman is about to publish a work which will
enable Wordsworth students to become practically acquainted with the
contents of his MSS.

In reference to the poems not published by Wordsworth or his sister
during their lifetime, I have included in this volume not only fugitive
pieces printed in Magazines and elsewhere, but also those which have
been since recovered from numerous manuscript sources. They are of
varying merit. It would be interesting to know, and to record in every
instance, where these manuscripts now are; but this is impossible. In
many cases the manuscripts have recently changed ownership. I have
obtained a sight of many of them, and have been granted permission to
transcribe them, from the fortunate possessors of large autograph
collections, and also from dealers in autographs; but, after the sale
of manuscripts at public auction-rooms, it is, as a rule, impossible to
trace them.

In many cases the MS. variants which have been published in previous
volumes occur in copies of the poems, transcribed by the Wordsworth
household in private letters to friends. I have occasionally indicated
this in footnotes; but, to have done so always would have disfigured
the pages, and frequently the notes would have been longer than the
text. To trace the present possessors of the MSS. would be well-nigh
impossible. It is perhaps worth mentioning that in several cases
Wordsworth entered as “misprints” in future editions, what some of his
editors have considered “new readings.” _E.g._ in _The Excursion_, book
ix. l. 679, “wild” demeanour, instead of “mild” demeanour.

On Nov. 4, 1893, Mr. Aubrey de Vere wrote to me--

    “I earnestly hope that, in your ‘monumental edition,’ you will
    restore the _Ode, Intimations of Immortality_, to the place
    which Wordsworth always assigned to it, that of the High Altar
    of his poetic Cathedral; remitting Quillinan’s laureate Ode
    on an unworthy, because ‘occasional,’ subject to an Appendix,
    as a work that at the time of publication was attributed to
    Wordsworth, but was written by another, though it probably
    was seen by him, and had a line or two of his in it, and
    corrections by him.

    “This is certainly the truth; and I should think that he
    probably himself told all that truth to the officials, when
    transmitting the Ode; but that they concealed the circumstance;
    and that Wordsworth, then profoundly depressed in spirits, gave
    no more thought to the subject, and soon forgot all about it.…

                        “Yours very sincerely,

                                                  “AUBREY DE VERE.”

It was in compliance with Mr. Aubrey de Vere’s request that, in this
edition, I departed, in a single instance, from the chronological
arrangement of the poems.

It may not be too trivial a detail to mention that I gladly gave
permission to other editors of Wordsworth to make use of any of the
material which I discovered, and brought together, in former editions;
_e.g._ to Mr. George, in Boston, for his edition of _The Prelude_ (in
which, if the reader, or critic, compares my original edition with his
notes, he will see what Mr. George has done); and to Professor Dowden,
Trinity College, Dublin, for his most admirable Aldine edition. For the
latter--which will always hold a high place in Wordsworth literature--I
placed everything asked from me at the disposal of Mr. Dowden.

While these sheets are passing through the press, Dr. Garnett, of the
British Museum--one of the kindest and ablest of bibliographers--has
forwarded to me a contribution, previously sent by him to _The
Academy_, and printed in its issue of January 2, 1897.

I have no means of knowing--or of ultimately discovering--whether that
sonnet, printed as Wordsworth’s, is really his. Dr. Garnett says, in
his letter to me, “The verses were undoubtedly in Wordsworth’s hand”;
and, he adds, “I think they should be preserved, because they are
Wordsworth’s, and as an additional proof of his regard for Camoens,
whom he enumerates elsewhere among great sonnet-writers. I have added
a version of the quatrains, that the piece may be complete. From the
character of the handwriting, the lines would seem to have been written
down in old age; and I am not quite certain of the word which I have
transcribed as ‘Austral.’”

      Vasco, whose bold and happy mainyard spread
      Sunward thy sails where dawning glory dyed
      Heaven’s Orient gate; whose westering prow the tide
    Clove, where the day star bows him to his bed:
    Not sterner toil than thine, or strife more dread,
      Or nobler laud to nobler lyre allied,
      His, who did baffled Polypheme deride;
    Or his, whose scaring shaft the Harpy fled.
    Camoens, he the accomplished and the good,
      Gave to thy fame a more illustrious flight
      Than that brave vessel, though she sailed so far.
    Through him her course along the Austral flood
      Is known to all beneath the polar star,
      Through him the Antipodes in thy name delight.

                                         WILLIAM KNIGHT.





Composed 1834.--Published 1835

[This Portrait has hung for many years in our principal sitting-room,
and represents J. Q.[1] as she was when a girl. The picture, though it
is somewhat thinly painted, has much merit in tone and general effect:
it is chiefly valuable, however, from the sentiment that pervades
it. The anecdote of the saying of the monk in sight of Titian’s
picture was told in this house by Mr. Wilkie, and was, I believe,
first communicated to the public in this poem, the former portion of
which I was composing at the time. Southey heard the story from Miss
Hutchinson, and transferred it to the _Doctor_; but it is not easy to
explain how my friend Mr. Rogers, in a note subsequently added to his
_Italy_, was led to speak of the same remarkable words having many
years before been spoken in his hearing by a monk or priest in front
of a picture of the Last Supper, placed over a Refectory-table in a
convent at Padua.--I.F.]

One of the “Poems of Sentiment and Reflection.”--ED.

    Beguiled into forgetfulness of care
    Due to the day’s unfinished task; of pen
    Or book regardless, and of that fair scene
    In Nature’s prodigality displayed
    Before my window, oftentimes and long                              5
    I gaze upon a Portrait whose mild gleam
    Of beauty never ceases to enrich
    The common light; whose stillness charms the air,
    Or seems to charm it, into like repose;
    Whose silence, for the pleasure of the ear,                       10
    Surpasses sweetest music. There she sits
    With emblematic purity attired
    In a white vest, white as her marble neck
    Is, and the pillar of the throat would be
    But for the shadow by the drooping chin                           15
    Cast into that recess--the tender shade,
    The shade and light, both there and every where,
    And through the very atmosphere she breathes,
    Broad, clear, and toned harmoniously, with skill
    That might from nature have been learnt in the hour               20
    When the lone shepherd sees the morning spread
    Upon the mountains. Look at her, whoe’er
    Thou be that, kindling with a poet’s soul,
    Hast loved the painter’s true Promethean craft
    Intensely--from Imagination take                                  25
    The treasure,--what mine eyes behold see thou,
    Even though the Atlantic ocean roll between.

      A silver line, that runs from brow to crown
    And in the middle parts the braided hair,
    Just serves to show how delicate a soil                           30
    The golden harvest grows in; and those eyes,
    Soft and capacious as a cloudless sky
    Whose azure depth their colour emulates,
    Must needs be conversant with upward looks,
    Prayer’s voiceless service; but now, seeking nought               35
    And shunning nought, their own peculiar life
    Of motion they renounce, and with the head
    Partake its inclination towards earth
    In humble grace, and quiet pensiveness
    Caught at the point where it stops short of sadness.              40

      Offspring of soul-bewitching Art, make me
    Thy confidant! say, whence derived that air
    Of calm abstraction? Can the ruling thought
    Be with some lover far away, or one
    Crossed by misfortune, or of doubted faith?                       45
    Inapt conjecture! Childhood here, a moon
    Crescent in simple loveliness serene,
    Has but approached the gates of womanhood,
    Not entered them; her heart is yet unpierced
    By the blind Archer-god; her fancy free:                          50
    The fount of feeling, if unsought elsewhere,
    Will not be found.

                        Her right hand, as it lies
    Across the slender wrist of the left arm
    Upon her lap reposing, holds--but mark
    How slackly, for the absent mind permits                          55
    No firmer grasp--a little wild-flower, joined
    As in a posy, with a few pale ears
    Of yellowing corn, the same that overtopped
    And in their common birthplace sheltered it
    ’Till they were plucked together; a blue flower                   60
    Called by the thrifty husbandman a weed;
    But Ceres, in her garland, might have worn
    That ornament, unblamed. The floweret, held
    In scarcely conscious fingers, was, she knows,
    (Her Father told her so) in youth’s gay dawn                      65
    Her Mother’s favourite; and the orphan Girl,
    In her own dawn--a dawn less gay and bright,
    Loves it, while there in solitary peace
    She sits, for that departed Mother’s sake.
    --Not from a source less sacred is derived                        70
    (Surely I do not err) that pensive air
    Of calm abstraction through the face diffused
    And the whole person.
                          Words have something told
    More than the pencil can, and verily
    More than is needed, but the precious Art                         75
    Forgives their interference--Art divine,
    That both creates and fixes, in despite
    Of Death and Time, the marvels it hath wrought.

      Strange contrasts have we in this world of ours!
    That posture, and the look of filial love                         80
    Thinking of past and gone, with what is left
    Dearly united, might be swept away
    From this fair Portrait’s fleshly Archetype,
    Even by an innocent fancy’s slightest freak
    Banished, nor ever, haply, be restored                            85
    To their lost place, or meet in harmony
    So exquisite; but _here_ do they abide,
    Enshrined for ages. Is not then the Art
    Godlike, a humble branch of the divine,
    In visible quest of immortality,                                  90
    Stretched forth with trembling hope?--In every realm,
    From high Gibraltar to Siberian plains,
    Thousands, in each variety of tongue
    That Europe knows, would echo this appeal;
    One above all, a Monk who waits on God                            95
    In the magnific Convent built of yore
    To sanctify the Escurial palace. He--
    Guiding, from cell to cell and room to room,
    A British Painter (eminent for truth
    In character,[2] and depth of feeling, shown                     100
    By labours that have touched the hearts of kings,
    And are endeared to simple cottagers)--
    Came, in that service, to a glorious work,[3]
    Our Lord’s Last Supper, beautiful as when first
    The appropriate Picture, fresh from Titian’s hand,               105
    Graced the Refectory: and there, while both
    Stood with eyes fixed upon that masterpiece,
    The hoary Father in the Stranger’s ear
    Breathed out these words:--“Here daily do we sit,
    Thanks given to God for daily bread, and here                    110
    Pondering the mischiefs of these restless times,
    And thinking of my Brethren, dead, dispersed,
    Or changed and changing, I not seldom gaze
    Upon this solemn Company unmoved
    By shock of circumstance, or lapse of years,                     115
    Until I cannot but believe that they--
    They are in truth the Substance, we
    the Shadows.”[4]

      So spake the mild Jeronymite, his griefs
    Melting away within him like a dream
    Ere he had ceased to gaze, perhaps to speak:                     120
    And I, grown old, but in a happier land,
    Domestic Portrait! have to verse consigned
    In thy calm presence those heart-moving words:
    Words that can soothe, more than they agitate;
    Whose spirit, like the angel that went down                      125
    Into Bethesda’s pool, with healing virtue
    Informs the fountain in the human breast
    Which[5] by the visitation was disturbed.
    ----But why this stealing tear? Companion mute,
    On thee I look, not sorrowing; fare thee well,                   130
    My Song’s Inspirer, once again farewell![6]

[1] Jemima Quillinan, the eldest daughter of Edward Quillinan,
Wordsworth’s future son-in-law. The portrait was taken when she was a
school-girl, and while her father resided at Oporto.--ED.

[2] Wilkie. See the Fenwick note.--ED.

[3] 1837.

    Left not unvisited a glorious work,


[4] “When Wilkie was in the Escurial, looking at Titian’s famous
picture of the Last Supper, in the Refectory there, an old Jeronymite
said to him: ‘I have sate daily in sight of that picture for now nearly
three score years; during that time my companions have dropt off, one
after another--all who were my seniors, all who were my contemporaries,
and many, or most of those who were younger than myself; more than one
generation has passed away, and there the figures in the picture have
remained unchanged! I look at them till I sometimes think that they are
the realities, and we but shadows!’

I wish I could record the name of the monk by whom that natural feeling
was so feelingly and strikingly expressed.

    The shows of things are better than themselves,

says the author of the tragedy of Nero, whose name also I could wish
had been forthcoming; and the classical reader will remember the lines
of Sophocles:

    ὁρῶ γὰρ ἡμᾶς οὐδὲν ὄντας ἄλλο, πλὴν
    εἴδωλ’, ὅσοιπερ ζῶμεν, ὴ κούφην σκιάν.

These are reflections which should make us think

    Of that same time when no more change shall be
    But steadfast rest of all things, firmly stayd
    Upon the pillars of Eternity,
    That is contrain to mutability;
    For all that moveth doth in change delight:
    But henceforth all shall rest eternally
    With Him that is the God of Sabaoth hight,
    O that great Sabaoth God grant me that Sabbath’s sight.


(Southey, _The Doctor_, vol. iii. p. 235.)--ED.

[5] 1837.

    That …


[6] The pile of buildings, composing the palace and convent of San
Lorenzo, has, in common usage, lost its proper name in that of the
_Escurial_, a village at the foot of the hill upon which the splendid
edifice, built by Philip the Second, stands. It need scarcely be added,
that Wilkie is the painter alluded to.--W.W. 1835.


Composed 1834.--Published 1835.

One of the “Poems of Sentiment and Reflection.”--ED.

    Among a grave fraternity of Monks,
    For One, but surely not for One alone,
    Triumphs, in that great work, the Painter’s skill,
    Humbling the body, to exalt the soul;
    Yet representing, amid wreck and wrong                             5
    And dissolution and decay, the warm
    And breathing life of flesh, as if already
    Clothed with impassive majesty, and graced
    With no mean earnest of a heritage
    Assigned to it in future worlds. Thou, too,                       10
    With thy memorial flower, meek Portraiture!
    From whose serene companionship I passed
    Pursued by thoughts that haunt me still; thou also--
    Though but a simple object, into light
    Called forth by those affections that endear                      15
    The private hearth; though keeping thy sole seat
    In singleness, and little tried by time,
    Creation, as it were, of yesterday--
    With a congenial function art endued
    For each and all of us, together joined                           20
    In course of nature under a low roof
    By charities and duties that proceed
    Out of the bosom of a wiser vow.
    To a like salutary sense of awe
    Or sacred wonder, growing with the power                          25
    Of meditation that attempts to weigh,
    In faithful scales, things and their opposites,
    Can thy enduring quiet gently raise
    A household small and sensitive,--whose love,
    Dependent as in part its blessings are                            30
    Upon frail ties dissolving or dissolved
    On earth, will be revived, we trust, in heaven.[7]

[7] In the class entitled “Musings,” in Mr. Southey’s Minor Poems, is
one upon his own miniature picture, taken in childhood, and another
upon a landscape painted by Gaspar Poussin. It is possible that every
word of the above verses, though similar in subject, might have been
written had the author been unacquainted with those beautiful effusions
of poetic sentiment. But, for his own satisfaction, he must be allowed
thus publicly to acknowledge the pleasure those two poems of his Friend
have given him, and the grateful influence they have upon his mind as
often as he reads them, or thinks of them.--W.W. 1835.



Composed 1834.--Published 1835

[This quatrain was extempore on observing this image, as I had often
done, on the lawn of Rydal Mount. It was first written down in the
Album of my God-daughter, Rotha Quillinan.--I.F.]

In 1837 this was one of the “Inscriptions.” In 1845 it was transferred
to the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

    Small service is true service while it lasts:
    Of humblest Friends, bright Creature! scorn not one![9]
    The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
    Protects the lingering dew-drop from the Sun.[10]

[8] The original title (1835) was “Written in an Album.” In 1837 it was
“Written in the Album of a Child.” In 1845 the title was reconstructed
as above.

[9] 1845.

    Of Friends, however humble, scorn not one:


[10] Compare the lines, written in 1845, beginning--

        So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive.




Composed 1834.--Published 1835

[This is a faithful picture of that amiable Lady, as she then was. The
youthfulness of figure and demeanour and habits, which she retained in
almost unprecedented degree, departed a very few years after, and she
died without violent disease by gradual decay before she reached the
period of old age.--I.F.]

This was placed, in 1845, among the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

    Lady! a Pen (perhaps with thy regard,
    Among the Favoured, favoured not the least)
    Left, ’mid the Records of this Book inscribed,
    Deliberate traces, registers of thought
    And feeling, suited to the place and time                          5
    That gave them birth:--months passed, and still this hand,
    That had not been too timid to imprint
    Words which the virtues of thy Lord inspired,
    Was yet not bold enough to write of Thee.
    And why that scrupulous reserve? In sooth                         10
    The blameless cause lay in the Theme itself.
    Flowers are there many that delight to strive
    With the sharp wind, and seem to court the shower,
    Yet are by nature careless of the sun
    Whether he shine on them or not; and some,                        15
    Where’er he moves along the unclouded sky,
    Turn a broad front full on his flattering beams:
    Others do rather from their notice shrink,
    Loving the dewy shade,--a humble band,
    Modest and sweet, a progeny of earth,                             20
    Congenial with thy mind and character,
    High-born Augusta!
                        Witness Towers, and Groves!
    And Thou, wild Stream, that giv’st the honoured name[12]
    Of Lowther to this ancient Line, bear witness[13]
    From thy most secret haunts; and ye Parterres,                    25
    Which She is pleased and proud to call her own,
    Witness how oft upon my noble Friend
    _Mute_ offerings, tribute from an inward sense
    Of admiration and respectful love,
    Have waited--till the affections could no more                    30
    Endure that silence, and broke out in song,
    Snatches of music taken up and dropt
    Like those self-solacing, those under, notes
    Trilled by the redbreast, when autumnal leaves
    Are thin upon the bough. Mine, only mine,                         35
    The pleasure was, and no one heard the praise,
    Checked, in the moment of its issue, checked
    And reprehended, by a fancied blush
    From the pure qualities that called it forth.

      Thus Virtue lives debarred from Virtue’s meed;                  40
    Thus, Lady, is retiredness a veil
    That, while it only spreads a softening charm
    O’er features looked at by discerning eyes,
    Hides half their beauty from the common gaze;
    And thus,[14] even on the exposed and breezy hill                 45
    Of lofty station, female goodness walks,
    When side by side with lunar gentleness,
    As in a cloister. Yet the grateful Poor
    (Such the immunities of low estate,
    Plain Nature’s enviable privilege,                                50
    Her sacred recompense for many wants)
    Open their hearts before Thee, pouring out
    All that they think and feel, with tears of joy;
    And benedictions not unheard in heaven:
    And friend in the ear of friend, where speech is free             55
    To follow truth, is eloquent as they.

      Then let the Book receive in these prompt lines
    A just memorial; and thine eyes consent
    To read that they, who mark thy course, behold
    A life declining with the golden light                            60
    Of summer, in the season of sere leaves;[15]
    See cheerfulness undamped by stealing Time;
    See studied kindness flow with easy stream,
    Illustrated with inborn courtesy;
    And an habitual disregard of self                                 65
    Balanced by vigilance for others’ weal.

      And shall the Verse not tell of lighter gifts
    With these ennobling attributes conjoined
    And blended, in peculiar harmony,
    By Youth’s surviving spirit? What agile grace!                    70
    A nymph-like liberty, in nymph-like form,
    Beheld with wonder; whether floor or path
    Thou tread; or sweep--borne on the managed steed--[16]
    Fleet as the shadows, over down or field,
    Driven by strong winds at play among the clouds.                  75

      Yet one word more--one farewell word--a wish
    Which came, but it has passed into a prayer--
    That, as thy sun in brightness is declining,
    So--at an hour yet distant for _their_ sakes
    Whose tender love, here faltering on the way                      80
    Of a diviner love, will be forgiven--
    So may it set in peace, to rise again
    For everlasting glory won by faith.

[11] 1837.

    Countess of ----


[12] The Lowther stream passes the Castle, and joins the Eamont below
Brougham Hall, near Penrith.--ED.

[13] 1837.

                      Towers, and stately Groves,
    Bear witness for me; thou, too, Mountain-stream!



    When hence …


[15] Compare _September, 1819_, and _Upon the Same Occasion_, vol. vi.
pp. 201, 202, especially the lines in the latter--

    Me, conscious that my leaf is sere,
    And yellow on the bough, etc.


[16] 1837.

    Thou tread, or on the managed steed art borne,



Two Evening Voluntaries, two Elegies (on the deaths of Charles Lamb and
James Hogg), the lines on the Bird of Paradise, and a few sonnets, make
up the poems belonging to the year 1835.--ED.


Composed 1835 (or earlier).--Published 1835

[In the month of January,--when Dora and I were walking from Town-end,
Grasmere, across the Vale, snow being on the ground, she espied, in
the thick though leafless hedge, a bird’s nest half-filled with snow.
Out of this comfortless appearance arose this Sonnet, which was, in
fact, written without the least reference to any individual object,
but merely to prove to myself that I could, if I thought fit, write in
a strain that Poets have been fond of. On the 14th of February in the
same year, my daughter, in a sportive mood, sent it as a Valentine,
under a fictitious name, to her cousin C.W.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant
    Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
    Of absence withers what was once so fair?
    Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?
    Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant--                      5
    Bound to thy service with unceasing care,[17]
    The mind’s least generous wish a mendicant
    For nought but what thy happiness could spare.
    Speak--though this soft warm heart, once free to hold
    A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine,                      10
    Be left more desolate, more dreary cold
    Than a forsaken bird’s-nest filled with snow
    ’Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine--
    Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know!

[17] 1845.

    … with incessant care,


    (As would my deeds have been) with hourly care,




Composed 1835.--Published 1837

One of the “Evening Voluntaries.”--ED.

    Wanderer! that stoop’st so low, and com’st so near
    To human life’s unsettled atmosphere;
    Who lov’st with Night and Silence to partake,
    So might it seem, the cares of them that wake;
    And, through the cottage-lattice softly peeping,                   5
    Dost shield from harm the humblest of the sleeping;
    What pleasure once encompassed those sweet names
    Which yet in thy behalf the Poet claims,
    An idolizing dreamer as of yore!--
    I slight them all; and, on this sea-beat shore                    10
    Sole-sitting, only can to thoughts attend
    That bid me hail thee as the SAILOR’S FRIEND;
    So call thee for heaven’s grace through thee made known
    By confidence supplied and mercy shown,
    When not a twinkling star or beacon’s light                       15
    Abates the perils of a stormy night;
    And for less obvious benefits, that find
    Their way, with thy pure help, to heart and mind;
    Both for the adventurer starting in life’s prime;
    And veteran ranging round from clime to clime,                    20
    Long-baffled hope’s slow fever in his veins,
    And wounds and weakness oft his labour’s sole remains.

      The aspiring Mountains and the winding Streams,
    Empress of Night! are gladdened by thy beams;
    A look of thine the wilderness pervades,                          25
    And penetrates the forest’s inmost shades;
    Thou, chequering peaceably the minster’s gloom,
    Guid’st the pale Mourner to the lost one’s tomb;
    Canst reach the Prisoner--to his grated cell
    Welcome, though silent and intangible!--                          30
    And lives there one, of all that come and go
    On the great waters toiling to and fro,
    One, who has watched thee at some quiet hour
    Enthroned aloft in undisputed power,
    Or crossed by vapoury streaks and clouds that move                35
    Catching the lustre they in part reprove--
    Nor sometimes felt a fitness in thy sway
    To call up thoughts that shun the glare of day,
    And make the serious happier than the gay?

      Yes, lovely Moon! if thou so mildly bright                      40
    Dost rouse, yet surely in thy own despite,
    To fiercer mood the phrenzy-stricken brain,
    Let me a compensating faith maintain;
    That there’s a sensitive, a tender, part
    Which thou canst touch in every human heart,                      45
    For healing and composure.--But, as least
    And mightiest billows ever have confessed
    Thy domination; as the whole vast Sea
    Feels through her lowest depths thy sovereignty;
    So shines that countenance with especial grace                    50
    On them who urge the keel her _plains_ to trace
    Furrowing its way right onward. The most rude,
    Cut off from home and country, may have stood--
    Even till long gazing hath bedimmed his eye,
    Or the mute rapture ended in a sigh--                             55
    Touched by accordance of thy placid cheer,
    With some internal lights to memory dear,
    Or fancies stealing forth to soothe the breast
    Tired with its daily share of earth’s unrest,--
    Gentle awakenings, visitations meek;                              60
    A kindly influence whereof few will speak,
    Though it can wet with tears the hardiest cheek.

      And when thy beauty in the shadowy cave
    Is hidden, buried in its monthly grave;[18]
    Then, while the Sailor, ’mid an open sea                          65
    Swept by a favouring wind that leaves thought free,
    Paces the deck--no star perhaps in sight,
    And nothing save the moving ship’s own light
    To cheer the long dark hours of vacant night--
    Oft with his musings does thy image blend,                        70
    In his mind’s eye thy crescent horns ascend,
    And thou art still, O Moon, that SAILOR’S FRIEND!

[18] Compare--

    When thou wert hidden in thy monthly grave,

in the lines _Written in a Grotto_, p. 235.--ED.



Composed 1835.--Published 1837

One of the “Evening Voluntaries.”--ED.

    Queen of the stars!--so gentle, so benign,
    That ancient Fable did to thee assign,
    When darkness creeping o’er thy silver brow
    Warned thee these upper regions to forego,
    Alternate empire in the shades below--                             5
    A Bard, who, lately near the wide-spread sea
    Traversed by gleaming ships, looked up to thee
    With grateful thoughts, doth now thy rising hail
    From the close confines of a shadowy vale.
    Glory of night, conspicuous yet serene,                           10
    Nor less attractive when by glimpses seen
    Through cloudy umbrage,[19] well might that fair face,
    And all those attributes of modest grace,
    In days when Fancy wrought unchecked by fear,
    Down to the green earth fetch thee from thy sphere,               15
    To sit in leafy woods by fountains clear!

      O still belov’d (for thine, meek Power, are charms
    That fascinate the very Babe in arms,
    While he, uplifted towards thee, laughs outright,
    Spreading his little palms in his glad Mother’s sight)            20
    O still belov’d, once worshipped! Time, that frowns
    In his destructive flight on earthly crowns,
    Spares thy mild splendour; still those far-shot beams
    Tremble on dancing waves and rippling streams
    With stainless touch, as chaste as when thy praise                25
    Was sung by Virgin-choirs in festal lays;
    And through dark trials still dost thou explore
    Thy way for increase punctual as of yore,
    When teeming Matrons--yielding to rude faith
    In mysteries of birth and life and death                          30
    And painful struggle and deliverance--prayed
    Of thee to visit them with lenient aid.
    What though the rites be swept away, the fanes
    Extinct that echoed to the votive strains;
    Yet thy mild aspect does not, cannot, cease                       35
    Love to promote and purity and peace;
    And Fancy, unreproved, even yet may trace
    Faint types of suffering in thy beamless face.

      Then, silent Monitress! let us--not blind
    To worlds unthought of till the searching mind                    40
    Of Science laid them open to mankind--
    Told, also, how the voiceless heavens declare
    God’s glory; and acknowledging thy share
    In that blest charge; let us--without offence
    To aught of highest, holiest, influence--                         45
    Receive whatever good ’tis given thee to dispense.
    May sage and simple, catching with one eye
    The moral intimations of the sky,
    Learn from thy course, where’er their own be taken,
    “To look on tempests, and be never shaken”;[20]                   50
    To keep with faithful step the appointed way
    Eclipsing or eclipsed, by night or day,
    And from example of thy monthly range
    Gently to brook decline and fatal change;
    Meek, patient, stedfast, and with loftier scope,                  55
    Than thy revival yields, for gladsome hope![21]

[19] Compare _The Triad_, vol. vii. p. 181.--ED.

[20] Compare l. 6 of Shakespeare’s sonnet, beginning--

    Let me not to the marriage of true minds.


[21] See a fragment of ten lines, which was written by Wordsworth in
MS. after the above, in a copy of his poems. They are printed in the
Appendix to this volume.--ED.


[Light will be thrown upon the tragic circumstance alluded to in this
poem when, after the death of Charles Lamb’s Sister, his biographer,
Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, shall be at liberty to relate particulars which
could not, at the time his Memoir was written, be given to the public.
Mary Lamb was ten years older than her brother, and has survived him as
long a time. Were I to give way to my own feelings, I should dwell not
only on her genius and intellectual powers, but upon the delicacy and
refinement of manner which she maintained inviolable under most trying
circumstances. She was loved and honoured by all her brother’s friends;
and others, some of them strange characters, whom his philanthropic
peculiarities induced him to countenance. The death of C. Lamb himself
was doubtless hastened by his sorrow for that of Coleridge, to whom
he had been attached from the time of their being school-fellows at
Christ’s Hospital. Lamb was a good Latin scholar, and probably would
have gone to college upon one of the school foundations but for the
impediment in his speech. Had such been his lot, he would most likely
have been preserved from the indulgences of social humours and fancies
which were often injurious to himself, and causes of severe regret to
his friends, without really benefiting the object of his misapplied

In the edition of 1837, these lines had no title. They were printed
privately,--before their first appearance in that edition,--as a small
pamphlet of seven pages without title or heading. A copy will be found
in the fifth volume of the collection of pamphlets, forming part of
the library bequeathed by the late Mr. John Forster to the South
Kensington Museum. There are several readings to be found only in this
privately-printed edition. The poem was placed among the “Epitaphs and
Elegiac Pieces.”--ED.

Composed November 19, 1835.--Published 1837

    To a good Man of most dear memory[22]
    This Stone is sacred.[23] Here he lies apart
    From the great city where he first drew breath,
    Was reared and taught; and humbly earned his bread,
    To the strict labours of the merchant’s desk                       5
    By duty chained. Not seldom did those tasks
    Tease, and the thought of time so spent depress,
    His spirit, but the recompense was high;
    Firm Independence, Bounty’s rightful sire;
    Affections, warm as sunshine, free as air;                        10
    And when the precious hours of leisure came,
    Knowledge and wisdom, gained from converse sweet
    With books, or while he ranged the crowded streets
    With a keen eye, and overflowing heart:
    So genius triumphed over seeming wrong,                           15
    And poured out truth in works by thoughtful love
    Inspired--works potent over smiles and tears.
    And as round mountain-tops the lightning plays,
    Thus innocently sported, breaking forth
    As from a cloud of some grave sympathy,                           20
    Humour and wild instinctive wit, and all
    The vivid flashes of his spoken words.
    From the most gentle creature nursed in fields[24]
    Had been derived the name he bore--a name,
    Wherever christian altars have been raised,                       25
    Hallowed to meekness and to innocence;
    And if in him meekness at times gave way,
    Provoked out of herself by troubles strange,
    Many and strange, that hung about his life;[25]
    Still, at the centre of his being, lodged                         30
    A soul by resignation sanctified:
    And if too often, self-reproached, he felt
    That innocence belongs not to our kind,
    A power that never ceased to abide in him,
    Charity, ’mid the multitude of sins[26]                           35
    That she can cover, left not his exposed
    To an unforgiving judgment from just Heaven.
    O, he was good, if e’er a good Man lived!

    From a reflecting mind and sorrowing heart
    Those simple lines flowed with an earnest wish,                   40
    Though but a doubting hope, that they might serve
    Fitly to guard the precious dust of him
    Whose virtues called them forth. That aim is missed;
    For much that truth most urgently required
    Had from a faltering pen been asked in vain:                      45
    Yet, haply, on the printed page received,
    The imperfect record, there, may stand unblamed
    As long as verse of mine shall breathe the air
    Of memory, or see the light of love.[27]

      Thou wert a scorner of the fields, my Friend,                   50
    But more in show than truth;[28] and from the fields,
    And from the mountains, to thy rural grave
    Transported, my soothed spirit hovers o’er
    Its green untrodden turf, and blowing flowers;
    And taking up a voice shall speak (tho’ still                     55
    Awed by the theme’s peculiar sanctity
    Which words less free presumed not even to touch)
    Of that fraternal love, whose heaven-lit lamp
    From infancy, through manhood, to the last
    Of threescore years, and to thy latest hour,                      60
    Burnt on with ever-strengthening light, enshrined[29]
    Within thy bosom.
                              “Wonderful” hath been
    The love established between man and man,
    “Passing the love of women;” and between
    Man and his help-mate in fast wedlock joined                      65
    Through God,[30] is raised a spirit and soul of love
    Without whose blissful influence Paradise
    Had been no Paradise; and earth were now
    A waste where creatures bearing human form,
    Direst of savage beasts, would roam in fear,                      70
    Joyless and comfortless. Our days glide on;[31]
    And let him grieve who cannot choose but grieve
    That he hath been an Elm without his Vine,
    And her bright dower of clustering charities,
    That, round his trunk and branches, might have clung              75
    Enriching and adorning. Unto thee,
    Not so enriched, not so adorned, to thee
    Was given (say rather thou of later birth
    Wert given to her) a Sister--’tis a word
    Timidly uttered, for she _lives_, the meek,                       80
    The self-restraining, and the ever-kind;
    In whom thy reason and intelligent heart
    Found--for all interests, hopes, and tender cares,
    All softening, humanising, hallowing powers,
    Whether withheld, or for her sake unsought--                      85
    More than sufficient recompense!
                                      Her love
    (What weakness prompts the voice to tell it here?)
    Was as the love of mothers; and when years,
    Lifting the boy to man’s estate, had called
    The long-protected to assume the part                             90
    Of a protector, the first filial tie
    Was undissolved; and, in or out of sight,
    Remained imperishably interwoven
    With life itself. Thus, ’mid a shifting world,
    Did they together testify of time[32]                             95
    And season’s difference--a double tree
    With two collateral stems sprung from one root;
    Such were they--such thro’ life they _might_ have been
    In union, in partition only such;
    Otherwise wrought the will of the Most High;                     100
    Yet, thro’ all visitations and all trials,
    Still they were faithful; like two vessels launched
    From the same beach one ocean to explore[33]
    With mutual help, and sailing--to their league
    True, as inexorable winds, or bars                               105
    Floating or fixed of polar ice, allow.[34]

      But turn we rather, let my spirit turn
    With thine, O silent and invisible Friend!
    To those dear intervals, nor rare nor brief,
    When reunited, and by choice withdrawn                           110
    From miscellaneous converse, ye were taught
    That the remembrance of foregone distress,
    And the worse fear of future ill (which oft
    Doth hang around it, as a sickly child
    Upon its mother) may be both alike                               115
    Disarmed of power to unsettle present good
    So prized, and things inward and outward held
    In such an even balance, that the heart
    Acknowledges God’s grace, his mercy feels,
    And in its depth of gratitude is still.                          120

      O gift divine of quiet sequestration!
    The hermit, exercised in prayer and praise,
    And feeding daily on the hope of heaven,
    Is happy in his vow, and fondly cleaves
    To life-long singleness; but happier far                         125
    Was to your souls, and, to the thoughts of others,
    A thousand times more beautiful appeared,
    Your _dual_ loneliness. The sacred tie
    Is broken; yet why grieve? for Time but holds
    His moiety in trust, till Joy shall lead                         130
    To the blest world where parting is unknown.[35]

[22] 1837.

    _To the dear memory of a frail good Man_

    In privately printed edition.

[23] Charles Lamb died December 27, 1834, and was buried in Edmonton
Churchyard, in a spot selected by himself.--ED.

[24] This way of indicating the _name_ of my lamented friend has been
found fault with, perhaps rightly so; but I may say in justification of
the double sense of the word, that similar allusions are not uncommon
in epitaphs. One of the best in our language in verse, I ever read,
was upon a person who bore the name of Palmer†; and the course of the
thought, throughout, turned upon the Life of the Departed, considered
as a pilgrimage. Nor can I think that the objection in the present
case will have much force with any one who remembers Charles Lamb’s
beautiful sonnet addressed to his own name, and ending--

    No deed of mine shall shame thee, gentle name!

W. W. 1837.

    † 1840.



Professor Henry Reed, in his edition of 1837, added the following note
to Wordsworth’s. “In _Hierologus_, a Church Tour through England and
Wales, I have met with an epitaph which is probably the one alluded to
above … a Kentish epitaph on one Palmer:

    Palmers all our fathers were;
    I, a Palmer lived here,
    And traveyled sore, till worn with age,
    I ended this world’s pilgrimage,
    On the blest Ascension Day
    In the cheerful month of May.”

The above is Professor Reed’s note. The following is an exact copy of
the epitaph:--

    _Palmers_ all our faders were;
    I, a _Palmer_ livyd here
    And travyld still till worne wyth age,
    I endyd this world’s pylgramage,
    On the blyst assention day
    In the cherful month of May;
    A thowsand wyth fowre hundryd seven,
    And took my jorney hense to heven.

    (Printed by Weever.)


[25] Compare Talfourd’s _Final Memorials of Charles Lamb_,

[26] 1837.

    _He had a constant friend--in Charity_;
    HER _who, among_ a multitude of sins,

    In privately printed edition.

[27] 1837.

    From a reflecting mind and sorrowing heart
    This tribute flow’d, with hope that it might guard
    The dust of him whose virtues call’d it forth;
    But ’tis a little space of earth that man,
    Stretch’d out in death, is doom’d to occupy;
    Still smaller space doth modest custom yield,
    On sculptured tomb or tablet, to the claims
    Of the deceased, or rights of the bereft.
    ’Tis well; and tho’, the record overstepped
    Those narrow bounds, yet on the printed page
    Received, there may it stand, I trust, unblamed
    As long as verse of mine shall steal from tears
    Their bitterness, or live to shed a gleam
    Of solace over one dejected thought.

    In privately printed edition.

Professor Dowden quotes, from “a slip of MS. in the poet’s
hand-writing,” the following variation of these lines--

    ’Tis well, and if the Record in the strength
    And earnestness of feeling, overpass’d
    Those narrow limits and so miss’d its aim,
    Yet will I trust that on the printed page
    Received, it there may keep a place unblamed.


[28] Lamb’s indifference to the country “was a sort of ‘mock apparel,’
in which it was his humour at times to invest himself.” (H. N.
Coleridge, Supplement to the _Biographia Literaria_, p. 333.)--ED.

[29] 1837.

    Burned, and with ever-strengthening light, enshrined

    In privately printed edition.

[30] 1837.

    By God, …

    In privately printed edition.

[31] 1837.

    … Our days pass on;

    In privately printed edition.

[32] 1837.

    Together stood they witnessing of time

    In privately printed edition.

[33] 1837.

    Yet, in all visitations, through all trials
    Still they were faithful, like two goodly ships
    Launch’d from the beach, …

    In privately printed edition.

[34] Compare the testimony borne to Mary Lamb by Mr. Procter (Barry
Cornwall), and by Henry Crabb Robinson.--ED.

[35] 1837.

                            … The sacred tie
    Is broken, to become more sacred still.

    In privately printed edition.

Wordsworth originally meant to write an epitaph on Charles Lamb,
but his verse grew into an elegy of some length. A reference to the
circumstance of its “composition” will be found in one of his letters,
in a later volume.--ED.


Composed 1835.--Published 1835

[These verses were written extempore, immediately after reading a
notice of the Ettrick Shepherd’s death, in the Newcastle paper, to the
Editor of which I sent a copy for publication. The persons lamented
in these verses were all either of my friends or acquaintance. In
Lockhart’s _Life of Sir Walter Scott_, an account is given of my
first meeting with him in 1803. How the Ettrick Shepherd and I became
known to each other has already been mentioned in these notes. He was
undoubtedly a man of original genius, but of coarse manners and low
and offensive opinions. Of Coleridge and Lamb I need not speak here.
Crabbe I have met in London at Mr. Rogers’s, but more frequently and
favourably at Mr. Hoare’s upon Hampstead Heath. Every spring he used to
pay that family a visit of some length, and was upon terms of intimate
friendship with Mrs. Hoare, and still more with her daughter-in-law,
who has a large collection of his letters addressed to herself. After
the Poet’s decease, application was made to her to give up these
letters to his biographer, that they, or at least part of them, might
be given to the public. She hesitated to comply, and asked my opinion
on the subject. “By no means,” was my answer, grounded not upon any
objection there might be to publishing a selection from these letters,
but from an aversion I have always felt to meet idle curiosity by
calling back the recently departed to become the object of trivial
and familiar gossip. Crabbe obviously for the most part preferred the
company of women to that of men, for this among other reasons, that
he did not like to be put upon the stretch in general conversation:
accordingly in miscellaneous society his _talk_ was so much below what
might have been expected from a man so deservedly celebrated, that to
me it seemed trifling. It must upon other occasions have been of a
different character, as I found in our rambles together on Hampstead
Heath, and not so much from a readiness to communicate his knowledge
of life and manners as of natural history in all its branches. His
mind was inquisitive, and he seems to have taken refuge from the
remembrance of the distresses he had gone through, in these studies
and the employments to which they led. Moreover, such contemplations
might tend profitably to counterbalance the painful truths which he had
collected from his intercourse with mankind. Had I been more intimate
with him, I should have ventured to touch upon his office as a minister
of the Gospel, and how far his heart and soul were in it so as to make
him a zealous and diligent labourer: in poetry, though he wrote much
as we all know, he assuredly was not so. I happened once to speak of
pains as necessary to produce merit of a certain kind which I highly
valued: his observation was--“It is not worth while.” You are quite
right, thought I, if the labour encroaches upon the time due to teach
truth as a steward of the mysteries of God: if there be cause to fear
_that_, write less: but, if poetry is to be produced at all, make
what you do produce as good as you can. Mr. Rogers once told me that
he expressed his regret to Crabbe that he wrote in his later works so
much less correctly than in his earlier. “Yes,” replied he, “but then
I had a reputation to make; now I can afford to relax.” Whether it
was from a modest estimate of his own qualifications, or from causes
less creditable, his motives for writing verse and his hopes and aims
were not so high as is to be desired. After being silent for more than
twenty years, he again applied himself to poetry, upon the spur of
applause he received from the periodical publications of the day, as he
himself tells us in one of his prefaces. Is it not to be lamented that
a man who was so conversant with permanent truth, and whose writings
are so valuable an acquisition to our country’s literature, should have
_required_ an impulse from such a quarter? Mrs. Hemans was unfortunate
as a poetess in being obliged by circumstances to write for money, and
that so frequently and so much, that she was compelled to look out for
subjects wherever she could find them, and to write as expeditiously as
possible. As a woman, she was to a considerable degree a spoilt child
of the world. She had been early in life distinguished for talent, and
poems of hers were published while she was a girl. She had also been
handsome in her youth, but her education had been most unfortunate.
She was totally ignorant of housewifery, and could as easily have
managed the spear of Minerva as her needle. It was from observing these
deficiencies, that, one day while she was under my roof, I _purposely_
directed her attention to household economy, and told her I had
purchased _Scales_ which I intended to present to a young lady as a
wedding present; pointed out their utility (for her especial benefit)
and said that no ménage ought to be without them. Mrs. Hemans, not in
the least suspecting my drift, reported this saying, in a letter to a
friend at the time, as a proof of my simplicity. Being disposed to make
large allowances for the faults of her education and the circumstances
in which she was placed, I felt most kindly disposed towards her, and
took her part upon all occasions, and I was not a little affected
by learning that after she withdrew to Ireland, a long and severe
sickness raised her spirit as it depressed her body. This I heard from
her most intimate friends, and there is striking evidence of it in a
poem written and published not long before her death. These notices
of Mrs. Hemans would be very unsatisfactory to her intimate friends,
as indeed they are to myself, not so much for what is said, but what
for brevity’s sake is left unsaid. Let it suffice to add, there was
much sympathy between us, and, if opportunity had been allowed me to
see more of her, I should have loved and valued her accordingly; as it
is, I remember her with true affection for her amiable qualities, and,
above all, for her delicate and irreproachable conduct during her long
separation from an unfeeling husband, whom she had been led to marry
from the romantic notions of inexperienced youth. Upon this husband I
never heard her cast the least reproach, nor did I ever hear her even
name him, though she did not wholly forbear to touch upon her domestic
position; but never so that any fault could be found with her manner of
adverting to it. --I.F.]

This first appeared in _The Athenæum_, December 12, 1835, and in
the edition of 1837 it was included among the “Epitaphs and Elegiac

    When first, descending from the moorlands,
    I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide
    Along a bare and open valley,
    The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide.[36]

    When last along its banks I wandered,                              5
    Through groves that had begun to shed
    Their golden leaves upon the pathways,
    My steps the Border-minstrel led.

    The mighty Minstrel breathes no longer,[37]
    ’Mid mouldering ruins low he lies;[38]                            10
    And death upon the braes of Yarrow,
    Has closed the Shepherd-poet’s eyes:[39]

    Nor has the rolling year twice measured,
    From sign to sign, its stedfast course,
    Since every mortal power of Coleridge                             15
    Was frozen at its marvellous source;[40]

    The rapt One, of the godlike forehead,[41]
    The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth:
    And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle,
    Has vanished from his lonely hearth.[42]                          20

    Like clouds that rake the mountain-summits,[43]
    Or waves that own no curbing hand,
    How fast has brother followed brother,
    From sunshine to the sunless land!

    Yet I, whose lids from infant slumber[44]                         25
    Were earlier raised, remain to hear
    A timid voice, that asks in whispers,
    “Who next will drop and disappear?”

    Our haughty life is crowned with darkness,
    Like London with its own black wreath,                            30
    On which with thee, O Crabbe! forth-looking,
    I gazed from Hampstead’s breezy heath.

    As if but yesterday departed,
    Thou too art gone before;[45] but why,
    O’er ripe fruit, seasonably gathered,                             35
    Should frail survivors heave a sigh?

    Mourn rather for that holy Spirit,
    Sweet as the spring, as ocean deep;
    For Her who, ere her summer faded,
    Has sunk into a breathless sleep.[46]                             40

    No more of old romantic sorrows,
    For slaughtered Youth or love-lorn Maid!
    With sharper grief is Yarrow smitten,
    And Ettrick mourns with her their Poet dead.[47]

[36] Compare _Yarrow Visited_ (September, 1814), vol. vi. p. 35.--ED.

[37] Compare _Yarrow Revisited_ (1831), vol. vii. p. 278.--ED.

[38] Scott died at Abbotsford, on the 21st September 1832, and was
buried in Dryburgh Abbey.--ED.

[39] Hogg died at Altrive, on the 21st November 1835.--ED.

[40] Coleridge died at Highgate, on the 25th July 1834.--ED.

[41] Compare the _Stanzas written in my Pocket Copy of Thomson’s
“Castle of Indolence”_ (vol. ii. p. 307)--

    Profound his forehead was, though not severe.


[42] Lamb died in London, on the 27th December 1834.--ED.

[43] “This expression is borrowed from a sonnet by Mr. G. Bell, the
author of a small volume of poems lately printed at Penrith. Speaking
of Skiddaw he says--

    Yon dark cloud ‘rakes,’ and shrouds its noble brow.”

(Henry Reed, 1837.)--ED.

[44] 1845.

    … slumbers


[45] George Crabbe died at Trowbridge, Wiltshire, on the 3rd of
February 1832.--ED.

[46] Felicia Hemans died 16th May 1835.--ED.


    Grieve rather for that holy Spirit
    Pure as the sky, as ocean deep;
    For her who ere the summer faded
    Has sunk into a breathless sleep.

    No more of old romantic sorrows
    For slaughtered Youth or love-lorn Maid!
    With sharper grief is Yarrow smitten,
    And Ettrick mourns her Shepherd Poet dead.



Composed 1835.--Published 1836

[I cannot forbear to record that the last seven lines of this Poem were
composed in bed during the night of the day on which my sister Sara
Hutchinson died about 6 P.M., and it was the thought of her innocent
and beautiful life that, through faith, prompted the words----

    On wings that fear no glance of God’s pure sight,
    No tempest from his breath.

The reader will find two poems on pictures of this bird among my
Poems. I will here observe that in a far greater number of instances
than have been mentioned in these notes one poem has, as in this
case, grown out of another, either because I felt the subject had
been inadequately treated, or that the thoughts and images suggested
in course of composition have been such as I found interfered with
the unity indispensable to every work of art, however humble in

One of the “Poems of Sentiment and Reflection.”--ED.

    Who rashly strove thy Image to portray?
    Thou buoyant minion of the tropic air;
    How could he think of the live creature----gay
    With a divinity of colours, drest
    In all her brightness, from the dancing crest                      5
    Far as the last gleam of the filmy train
    Extended and extending to sustain
    The motions that it graces----and forbear
    To drop his pencil! Flowers of every clime
    Depicted on these pages smile at time;                            10
    And gorgeous insects copied with nice care
    Are here, and likenesses of many a shell
    Tossed ashore by restless waves,
    Or in the diver’s grasp fetched up from caves
    Where sea-nymphs might be proud to dwell:                         15
    But whose rash hand (again I ask) could dare,
    ’Mid casual tokens and promiscuous shows,
    To circumscribe this Shape in fixed repose;
    Could imitate for indolent survey,
    Perhaps for touch profane,                                        20
    Plumes that might catch, but cannot keep, a stain;
    And, with cloud-streaks lightest and loftiest, share
    The sun’s first greeting, his last farewell ray!

      Resplendent Wanderer! followed with glad eyes
    Where’er her course; mysterious Bird!                             25
    To whom, by wondering Fancy stirred,
    Eastern Islanders have given
    A holy name----the Bird of Heaven!
    And even a title higher still,
    The Bird of God![48] whose blessed will                           30
    She seems performing as she flies
    Over the earth and through the skies
    In never-wearied search of Paradise----
    Region that crowns her beauty with the name
    She bears for _us_----for us how blest,                           35
    How happy at all seasons, could like aim
    Uphold our Spirits urged to kindred flight
    On wings that fear no glance of God’s pure sight,
    No tempest from his breath, their promised rest
    Seeking with indefatigable quest                                  40
    Above a world that deems itself most wise
    When most enslaved by gross realities!

[48] Compare, in Robert Browning’s poem on Guercino’s picture of _The
Guardian-Angel at Fano_----

    Thou bird of God.



Composed 1835.--Published 1835

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Desponding Father! mark this altered bough,[49]
    So beautiful of late, with sunshine warmed,
    Or moist with dews; what more unsightly now,
    Its blossoms shrivelled, and its fruit, if formed,
    Invisible? yet Spring her genial brow                              5
    Knits not o’er that discolouring and decay
    As false to expectation. Nor fret thou
    At like unlovely process in the May
    Of human life: a Stripling’s graces blow,
    Fade and are shed, that from their timely fall                    10
    (Misdeem it not a cankerous change) may grow
    Rich mellow bearings, that for thanks shall call:
    In all men, sinful is it to be slow
    To hope----in Parents, sinful above all.

[49] Compare _The Excursion_ (book iii. l. 649), and the sonnet (vol.
vi. p. 72) beginning----

    Surprised by joy----impatient as the Wind.



Composed 1835.--Published 1835

[Suggested on the road between Preston and Lancaster where it first
gives a view of the Lake country, and composed on the same day, on the
roof of the coach.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Four fiery steeds impatient of the rein
    Whirled us o’er sunless ground beneath a sky
    As void of sunshine, when, from that wide plain,
    Clear tops of far-off mountains we descry,
    Like a Sierra of cerulean Spain,                                   5
    All light and lustre. Did no heart reply?
    Yes, there was One;--for One, asunder fly
    The thousand links of that ethereal chain;
    And green vales open out, with grove and field,
    And the fair front of many a happy Home;                          10
    Such tempting spots as into vision come
    While Soldiers, weary of the arms they wield
    And sick at heart[50] of strifeful Christendom,
    Gaze on the moon by parting clouds revealed.

[50] 1837.

    While Soldiers, of the weapons that they wield
    Weary, and sick of strifeful …


TO ----

Composed 1835.--Published 1835

[The fate of this poor Dove, as described, was told to me at Brinsop
Court, by the young lady to whom I have given the name of Lesbia.--I.F.]

    [Miss not the occasion: by the forelock take
    That subtle Power, the never-halting Time,
    Lest a mere moment’s putting-off should make
    Mischance almost as heavy as a crime.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    “Wait, prithee, wait!” this answer Lesbia[51] threw
    Forth to her Dove, and took no further heed.
    Her eye was busy, while her fingers flew
    Across the harp, with soul-engrossing speed;
    But from that bondage when her thoughts were freed                 5
    She rose, and toward the close-shut casement drew,
    Whence the poor unregarded Favourite, true
    To old affections, had been heard to plead
    With flapping wing for entrance. What a shriek
    Forced from that voice so lately tuned to a strain                10
    Of harmony!----a shriek of terror, pain,
    And self-reproach! for, from aloft, a Kite
    Pounced,----and the Dove, which from its ruthless beak
    She could not rescue, perished in her sight!

[51] Miss Loveday Walker, daughter of the Rector of Brinsop. See the
Fenwick note to the next sonnet.--ED.


Composed 1835.--Published 1835

[My attention to these antiquities was directed by Mr. Walker, son
to the itinerant Eidouranian Philosopher. The beautiful pavement was
discovered within a few yards of the front door of his parsonage, and
appeared from the site (in full view of several hills upon which there
had formerly been Roman encampments) as if it might have been the
villa of the commander of the forces, at least such was Mr. Walker’s

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    While poring Antiquarians search the ground
    Upturned with curious pains, the Bard, a Seer,
    Takes fire:----The men that have been reappear;
    Romans for travel girt, for business gowned;
    And some recline on couches, myrtle-crowned,                       5
    In festal glee: why not? For fresh and clear,
    As if its hues were of the passing year,
    Dawns this time-buried pavement. From that mound
    Hoards may come forth of Trajans, Maximins,
    Shrunk into coins with all their warlike toil:                    10
    Or a fierce impress issues with its foil
    Of tenderness--the Wolf, whose suckling Twins
    The unlettered ploughboy pities when he wins
    The casual treasure from the furrowed soil.


Composed 1835.--Published 1835

[Written on a journey from Brinsop Court, Herefordshire.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    When human touch (as monkish books attest)
    Nor was applied nor could be, Ledbury bells
    Broke forth in concert flung adown the dells,
    And upward, high as Malvern’s cloudy crest;[52]
    Sweet tones, and caught by a noble Lady blest                      5
    To rapture! Mabel listened at the side
    Of her loved mistress: soon the music died,
    And Catherine said, Here I set up my rest.
    Warned in a dream, the Wanderer long had sought
    A home that by such miracle of sound                              10
    Must be revealed:--she heard it now, or felt
    The deep, deep joy of a confiding thought;
    And there, a saintly Anchoress, she dwelt
    Till she exchanged for heaven that happy ground.

[52] The Ledbury bells are easily audible on the Malvern hills.--ED.


Published 1835

[This lady was named Carleton; she, along with a sister, was brought
up in the neighbourhood of Ambleside. The epitaph, a part of it at
least, is in the church at Bromsgrove, where she resided after her

One of the “Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces.”--ED.

    By a blest Husband guided, Mary came
    From nearest kindred, Vernon[54] her new name;
    She came, though meek of soul, in seemly pride
    Of happiness and hope, a youthful Bride.
    O dread reverse! if aught _be_ so, which proves                    5
    That God will chasten whom he dearly loves.
    Faith bore her up through pains in mercy given,
    And troubles that were each a step to Heaven:
    Two Babes were laid in earth before she died;
    A third now slumbers at the Mother’s side;                        10
    Its Sister-twin survives, whose smiles afford
    A trembling solace to her widowed Lord.

      Reader! if to thy bosom cling the pain
    Of recent sorrow combated in vain;
    Or if thy cherished grief have failed to thwart                   15
    Time still intent on his insidious part,
    Lulling the mourner’s best good thoughts asleep,
    Pilfering regrets we would, but cannot, keep;
    Bear with Him--judge _Him_ gently who makes known
    His bitter loss by this memorial Stone;                           20
    And pray that in his faithful breast the grace
    Of resignation find a hallowed place.

[53] 1837.

In the edition of 1835 the title was “Epitaph.”

[54] 1837.

    From nearest kindred, …



Composed 1835.--Published 1838

[The sad condition of poor Mrs. Southey[55] put me upon writing this.
It has afforded comfort to many persons whose friends have been
similarly affected.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Oh what a Wreck! how changed in mien and speech!
    Yet--though dread Powers, that work in mystery, spin
    Entanglings of[56] the brain; though shadows stretch
    O’er the chilled heart--reflect; far, far within
    Hers is a holy Being, freed from Sin.                              5
    She is not what she seems, a forlorn wretch,
    But delegated Spirits comfort fetch
    To Her from heights that Reason may not win.
    Like Children, She is privileged to hold
    Divine communion;[57] both do live and move,                      10
    Whate’er to shallow Faith their ways unfold,
    Inly illumined by Heaven’s pitying love;
    Love pitying innocence not long to last,
    In them--in Her our sins and sorrows past.

[55] Mrs. Southey died 16th November 1837. She had long been an
invalid. See Southey’s _Life and Correspondence_, vol. vi. p. 347.--ED.

[56] 1842.

    … for …


[57] Compare a remark of Wordsworth’s that he never saw those with
mind unhinged, but he thought of the words, “Life hid in God.” It is a
curious oriental belief that idiots are in closer communion with the
Infinite than the sane are.--ED.


So far as can be ascertained, only one sonnet was written by Wordsworth
in 1836. The verses _To a Redbreast_, by his sister-in-law, Sarah
Hutchinson, may however be placed alongside of the sonnet addressed to


Composed 1836.--Published 1837.

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Even so for me a Vision sanctified
    The sway of Death; long ere mine eyes had seen
    Thy countenance--the still rapture of thy mien--
    When thou, dear Sister![58] wert become Death’s Bride:
    No trace of pain or languor could abide                            5
    That change:--age on thy brow was smoothed--thy cold
    Wan cheek at once was privileged to unfold
    A loveliness to living youth denied.
    Oh! if within me hope should e’er decline,
    The lamp of faith, lost Friend! too faintly burn;                 10
    Then may that heaven-revealing smile of thine,
    The bright assurance, visibly return:
    And let my spirit in that power divine
    Rejoice, as, through that power, it ceased to mourn.

[58] Sarah Hutchinson--Mrs. Wordsworth’s sister--died at Rydal on the
23rd June 1836. It was after her that the poet named one of the two
“heath-clad rocks” referred to in the “Poems on the naming of Places,”
and which he called respectively “Mary-Point” and “Sarah-Point.” In
1827 he inscribed to her the sonnet beginning--

    Excuse is needless when with love sincere,

and the lines she wrote _To a Redbreast_, beginning--

    Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay,

were published among Wordsworth’s own poems.

The sonnet written in 1806, beginning--

    Methought I saw the footsteps of a throne,

was, Wordsworth tells us, a great favourite with S. H. He adds, “When
I saw her lying in death I could not resist the impulse to compose the
sonnet that follows it.” (See vol. iv. p. 46.)

In a letter to Southey (unpublished), Wordsworth refers to her death,
and adds: “I saw her within an hour after her decease, in the silence
and peace of death, with as heavenly an expression on her countenance
as ever human creature had. Surely there is food for faith in these
appearances: for myself, I can say that I have passed a wakeful night,
more in joy than in sorrow, with that blessed face before my eyes
perpetually as I lay in bed.”


Published 1842

[Almost the only verses by our lamented sister Sara Hutchinson.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

    Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay,
      And at my casement sing,
    Though it should prove a farewell lay
      And this our parting spring.

    Though I, alas! may ne’er enjoy                                    5
      The promise in thy song;
    A charm, _that_ thought can not destroy,
      Doth to thy strain belong.

    Methinks that in my dying hour
      Thy song would still be dear,                                   10
    And with a more than earthly power
      My passing Spirit cheer.

    Then, little Bird, this boon confer,
      Come, and my requiem sing,
    Nor fail to be the harbinger                                      15
      Of everlasting Spring.



The poems belonging to the year 1837 include the “Memorials of a Tour
in Italy” with Henry Crabb Robinson in that year, and one or two
additional sonnets.--ED.


Published 1837

One of the “Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces.”--ED.

    Six months to six years added he remained
    Upon this sinful earth, by sin unstained:
    O blessed Lord! whose mercy then removed
    A Child whom every eye that looked on loved;
    Support us, teach us calmly to resign                              5
    What we possessed, and now is wholly thine![59]

[59] This refers to the poet’s son Thomas, who died December 1, 1812.
He was buried in Grasmere churchyard, beside his sister Catherine; and
Wordsworth placed these lines upon his tombstone. They may have been
written much earlier than 1836, probably in 1813, but it is impossible
to ascertain the date, and they were not published till 1837.--ED.


Composed 1837.--Published 1842

[During my whole life I had felt a strong desire to visit Rome and the
other celebrated cities and regions of Italy, but did not think myself
justified in incurring the necessary expense till I received from Mr.
Moxon, the publisher of a large edition of my poems, a sum sufficient
to enable me to gratify my wish without encroaching upon what I
considered due to my family. My excellent friend H.C. Robinson readily
consented to accompany me, and in March 1837, we set off from London,
to which we returned in August, earlier than my companion wished or
I should myself have desired had I been, like him, a bachelor. These
Memorials of that tour touch upon but a very few of the places and
objects that interested me, and, in what they do advert to, are for
the most part much slighter than I could wish. More particularly do I
regret that there is no notice in them of the South of France, nor of
the Roman antiquities abounding in that district, especially of the
Pont de Degard, which, together with its situation, impressed me full
as much as any remains of Roman architecture to be found in Italy.
Then there was Vaucluse, with its Fountain, its Petrarch, its rocks of
all seasons, its small plots of lawn in their first vernal freshness,
and the blossoms of the peach and other trees embellishing the scene
on every side. The beauty of the stream also called forcibly for the
expression of sympathy from one who, from his childhood, had studied
the brooks and torrents of his native mountains. Between two and three
hours did I run about climbing the steep and rugged crags from whose
base the water of Vaucluse breaks forth. “Has Laura’s Lover,” often
said I to myself, “ever sat down upon this stone? or has his foot ever
pressed that turf?” Some, especially of the female sex, would have felt
sure of it: my answer was (impute it to my years) “I fear, not.” Is it
not in fact obvious that many of his love verses must have flowed, I
do not say from a wish to display his own talent, but from a habit of
exercising his intellect in that way rather than from an impulse of his
heart? It is otherwise with his Lyrical poems, and particularly with
the one upon the degradation of his country: there he pours out his
reproaches, lamentations, and aspirations like an ardent and sincere
patriot. But enough: it is time to turn to my own effusions such as
they are.--I.F.]


    Companion! by whose buoyant Spirit cheered,
    In[61] whose experience trusting, day by day
    Treasures I gained with zeal that neither feared
    The toils nor felt the crosses of the way,
    These records take, and happy should I be                          5
    Were but the Gift a meet Return to thee
    For kindnesses that never ceased to flow,
    And prompt self-sacrifice to which I owe
    Far more than any heart but mine can know.

                                W. WORDSWORTH.

RYDAL MOUNT, _Feb. 14th, 1842._

[60] The following is the Itinerary of the Italian Tour of 1837,
supplied by Mr. Henry Crabb Robinson. (See _Memoirs of Wordsworth_,
vol. ii. pp. 316, 317.) The spelling of the names of places is

    March, 1837.

    19. By steam to Calais.
    20. Posting to Samer.
    21. Posting to Granvilliers.
    22. Through Beauvais to Paris.
    26. To Fontainbleau.
    27. Through Nemours to Cosne.
    28. To Moulins.
    29. To Tarare.
    30. To Lyons.
    31. Through Vienne to Tain.


    1. Through Valence to Orange.
    2. To Avignon; to Vaucluse and back.
    3, 4. By Pont du Gard to Nismes.
    5, 6. By St. Remi to Marseilles.
    7. To Toulon.
    8. To Luc.
    9. By Frejus to Cannes.
    10, 11. To Nice.
    12. Through Mentone to St. Remo.
    13. Through Finale to Savone.
    14-16. To Genoa.
    17. To Chiaveri.
    18. To Spezia.
    19. By Carrara to Massa.
    20. To Lucca.
    21. To Pisa.
    22. To Volterra.
    23. By Castiglonacco and Sienna.
    24. To Radicofani.
    25. By Aquapendente to Viterbo.
    26. To Rome.


    13. Excursion to Tivoli with Dr. Carlyle.
    17-21. Excursion to Albano, etc., etc., with Miss Mackenzie.
    23. To Terni.
    24. After seeing the Falls, to Spoleto.
    25. To Cortona and Perugia.
    26. To Arezzo.
    27. To Bibiena and Laverna.
    28. To Camaldoli.
    29. From Muselea to Ponte Sieve.
    30. From Ponte Sieve to Val Ombrosa and Florence.


    6, 7. To Bologna.
    8. Parma.
    9. Through Piacenza to Milan.
    11. To the Certosa and back.
    12. To the Lake of Como and back.
    13. To Bergamo.
    14. To Pallazuola and Isco.
    15. Excursion to Riveri and back.
    16. To Brescia and Desinzano.
    17. On Lake of Garda to Riva.
    19. To Verona.
    20. Vicenza.
    21. Padua.
    22. Venice.
    28. To Logerone.
    29. To Sillian.
    30. Spittal (in Carinthia).


    1. Over Kazenberg to Tweng.
    2. Through Werfen to Hallein.
    3. Excursion to Konigsee.
    4, 5. To Saltzburg.
    6. To Ischl. A week’s stay in the Salzkammer Gut, viz.--
    8. Gmund.
    9. Travenfalls and back.
    10. Aussee.
    11. Excursion to lakes, then to Hallstadt.
    13. Through Ischl to St. Gilgin.
    14. Through Salzburg to Trauenstein.
    15. To Miesbach.
    16. To Tegernsee and Holzkirken.
    17. To Munich.
    21. To Augsburg.
    22. To Ulm.
    23. To Stuttgard.
    24. To Besigham.
    25. To Heidelberg.
    28. Through Worms to Mayence.
    29. To Coblenz.
    30. To Bonn.
    31. Through Cologne to Aix-la-Chapelle.


    1. To Louvain
    2. To Brussels.
    3. To Antwerp.
    4. To Liege.
    5. Through Lille to Cassell.
    6. Calais.
    7. London.

[61] 1845.

    To …


The Tour of which the following Poems are very inadequate remembrances
was shortened by report, too well founded, of the prevalence of Cholera
at Naples. To make some amends for what was reluctantly left unseen
in the South of Italy, we visited the Tuscan Sanctuaries among the
Apennines, and the principal Italian Lakes among the Alps. Neither
of those lakes, nor of Venice, is there any notice in these Poems,
chiefly because I have touched upon them elsewhere. See, in particular,
_Descriptive Sketches_, “Memorials of a Tour on the Continent in 1820,”
and a Sonnet upon the extinction of the Venetian Republic.--W.W.



APRIL, 1837

                        [Not the less
    Had his sunk eye kindled at those dear words
    That spake of bards and minstrels.

His, Sir Walter Scott’s, eye, _did_ in fact kindle at them, for the
lines, “Places forsaken now” and the two that follow, were adopted from
a poem of mine which nearly forty years ago was _in part_ read to him,
and he never forgot them.

                        Old Helvellyn’s brow
    Where once together, in his day of strength,
    We stood rejoicing.

Sir Humphry Davy was with us at the time. We had ascended from
Patterdale, and I could not but admire the vigour with which Scott
scrambled along that horn of the mountain called “Striding Edge.” Our
progress was necessarily slow, and was beguiled by Scott’s telling many
stories and amusing anecdotes, as was his custom. Sir H. Davy would
have probably been better pleased if other topics had occasionally been
interspersed, and some discussion entered upon: at all events he did
not remain with us long at the top of the mountain, but left us to find
our way down its steep side together into the Vale of Grasmere, where,
at my cottage, Mrs. Scott was to meet us at dinner.

                        With faint smile
    He said, “When I am there, although ’tis fair,
    ’Twill be another Yarrow.”

See among these notes the one on _Yarrow Revisited_.

    A few short steps (painful they were) apart
    From Tasso’s Convent-haven, and retired grave.

This, though introduced here, I did not know till it was told me at
Rome by Miss Mackenzie of Seaforth, a lady whose friendly attentions
during my residence at Rome I have gratefully acknowledged with
expressions of sincere regret that she is no more. Miss M. told me
that she accompanied Sir Walter to the Janicular Mount, and, after
showing him the grave of Tasso in the church upon the top, and a mural
monument, there erected to his memory, they left the church and stood
together on the brow of the hill overlooking the City of Rome: his
daughter Anne was with them, and she, naturally desirous, for the sake
of Miss Mackenzie especially, to have some expression of pleasure from
her father, half reproached him for showing nothing of that kind either
by his looks or voice: “How can I,” replied he, “having only one leg
to stand upon, and that in extreme pain!” so that the prophecy was more
than fulfilled.

    Over waves rough and deep.

We took boat near the lighthouse at the point of the right horn of
the bay which makes a sort of natural port for Genoa; but the wind
was high, and the waves long and rough, so that I did not feel quite
recompensed by the view of the city, splendid as it was, for the danger
apparently incurred. The boatman (I had only one) encouraged me saying
we were quite safe, but I was not a little glad when we gained the
shore, though Shelley and Byron--one of them at least, who seemed to
have courted agitation from any quarter--would have probably rejoiced
in such a situation: more than once I believe were they both in extreme
danger even on the lake of Geneva. Every man, however, has his fears
of some kind or other; and no doubt they had theirs: of all men whom I
have ever known, Coleridge had the most of passive courage in bodily
peril, but no one was so easily cowed when moral firmness was required
in miscellaneous conversation or in the daily intercourse of social

    How lovely robed in forenoon light and shade,
    Each ministering to each, didst thou appear,

There is not a single bay along this beautiful coast that might not
raise in a traveller a wish to take up his abode there, each as it
succeeds seems more inviting than the other; but the desolated convent
on the cliff in the bay of Savona struck my fancy most; and had I, for
the sake of my own health or that of a dear friend, or any other cause,
been desirous of a residence abroad, I should have let my thoughts
loose upon a scheme of turning some part of this building into a
habitation provided as far as might be with English comforts. There is
close by it a row or avenue, I forget which, of tall cypresses. I could
not forbear saying to myself--“What a sweet family walk, or one for
lonely musings, would be found under the shade!” but there, probably,
the trees remained little noticed and seldom enjoyed.

    This flowering broom’s dear neighbourhood.

The broom is a great ornament through the months of March and April to
the vales and hills of the Apennines, in the wild parts of which it
blows in the utmost profusion, and of course successively at different
elevations as the season advances. It surpasses ours in beauty and
fragrance,[62] but, speaking from my own limited observations only,
I cannot affirm the same of several of their wild spring flowers,
the primroses in particular, which I saw not unfrequently but thinly
scattered and languishing compared to ours.

The note at the end of this poem, upon the Oxford movement, was
entrusted to my friend, Mr. Frederick Faber.[63] I told him what I
wished to be said, and begged that, as he was intimately acquainted
with several of the Leaders of it, he would express my thought in the
way least likely to be taken amiss by them. Much of the work they are
undertaking was grievously wanted, and God grant their endeavours may
continue to prosper as they have done.--I.F.]

    Ye Apennines! with all your fertile vales
    Deeply embosomed, and your winding shores
    Of either sea, an Islander by birth,
    A Mountaineer by habit, would resound
    Your praise, in meet accordance with your claims                   5
    Bestowed by Nature, or from man’s great deeds
    Inherited:--presumptuous thought!--it fled
    Like vapour, like a towering cloud, dissolved.
    Not, therefore, shall my mind give way to sadness;--
    Yon snow-white torrent-fall, plumb down it drops                  10
    Yet ever hangs or seems to hang in air,
    Lulling the leisure of that high perched town,
    AQUAPENDENTE, in her lofty site
    Its neighbour and its namesake--town, and flood
    Forth flashing out of its own gloomy chasm                        15
    Bright sunbeams--the fresh verdure of this lawn
    Strewn with grey rocks, and on the horizon’s verge,
    O’er intervenient waste, through glimmering haze,
    Unquestionably kenned, that cone-shaped hill
    With fractured summit,[64] no indifferent sight                   20
    To travellers, from such comforts as are thine,
    Bleak Radicofani![65] escaped with joy--
    These are before me; and the varied scene
    May well suffice, till noon-tide’s sultry heat
    Relax, to fix and satisfy the mind                                25
    Passive yet pleased. What! with this Broom in flower
    Close at my side! She bids me fly to greet
    Her sisters, soon like her to be attired
    With golden blossoms opening at the feet
    Of my own Fairfield.[66] The glad greeting given,                 30
    Given with a voice and by a look returned
    Of old companionship, Time counts not minutes
    Ere, from accustomed paths, familiar fields,
    The local Genius hurries me aloft,
    Transported over that cloud-wooing hill,                          35
    Seat Sandal, a fond suitor of the clouds,[67]
    With dream-like smoothness, to Helvellyn’s top,[68]
    There to alight upon crisp moss and range,
    Obtaining ampler boon, at every step,
    Of visual sovereignty--hills multitudinous,                       40
    (Not Apennine can boast of fairer) hills
    Pride of two nations, wood and lake and plains,
    And prospect right below of deep coves shaped[69]
    By skeleton arms, that, from the mountain’s trunk
    Extended, clasp the winds, with mutual moan                       45
    Struggling for liberty, while undismayed
    The shepherd struggles with them. Onward thence
    And downward by the skirt of Greenside fell,[70]
    And by Glenridding-screes,[71] and low Glencoign,[72]
    Places forsaken now, though[73] loving still                      50
    The muses, as they loved them in the days
    Of the old minstrels and the border bards.--
    But here am I fast bound; and let it pass,
    The simple rapture;--who that travels far
    To feed his mind with watchful eyes could share                   55
    Or wish to share it?--One there surely was,
    “The Wizard of the North,” with anxious hope
    Brought to this genial climate, when disease
    Preyed upon body and mind--yet not the less
    Had his sunk eye kindled at those dear words                      60
    That spake of bards and minstrels; and his spirit
    Had flown with mine to old Helvellyn’s brow,
    Where once together, in his day of strength,
    We stood rejoicing,[74] as if earth were free
    From sorrow, like the sky above our heads.                        65

      Years followed years, and when, upon the eve
    Of his last going from Tweed-side, thought turned,
    Or by another’s sympathy was led,
    To this bright land, Hope was for him no friend,
    Knowledge no help; Imagination shaped                             70
    No promise. Still, in more than ear-deep seats,
    Survives for me, and cannot but survive
    The tone of voice which wedded borrowed words
    To sadness not their own, when, with faint smile
    Forced by intent to take from speech its edge,                    75
    He said, “When I am there, although ’tis fair,
    ’Twill be another Yarrow.”[75] Prophecy
    More than fulfilled, as gay Campania’s shores
    Soon witnessed, and the city of seven hills,
    Her sparkling fountains, and her mouldering tombs;                80
    And more than all, that Eminence[76] which showed
    Her splendours, seen, not felt, the while he stood
    A few short steps (painful they were) apart
    From Tasso’s Convent-haven, and retired grave.[77]

      Peace to their Spirits! why should Poesy                        85
    Yield to the lure of vain regret, and hover
    In gloom on wings with confidence outspread
    To move in sunshine?--Utter thanks, my Soul!
    Tempered with awe, and sweetened by compassion
    For them who in the shades of sorrow dwell,                       90
    That I--so near the term to human life
    Appointed by man’s common heritage,[78]
    Frail as the frailest, one withal (if that
    Deserve a thought) but little known to fame--
    Am free to rove where Nature’s loveliest looks,                   95
    Art’s noblest relics, history’s rich bequests,
    Failed to reanimate and but feebly cheered
    The whole world’s Darling--free to rove at will
    O’er high and low, and if requiring rest,
    Rest from enjoyment only.
                              Thanks poured forth                    100
    For what thus far hath blessed my wanderings, thanks
    Fervent but humble as the lips can breathe
    Where gladness seems a duty--let me guard
    Those seeds of expectation which the fruit
    Already gathered in this favoured Land                           105
    Enfolds within its core. The faith be mine,
    That He who guides and governs all, approves
    When gratitude, though disciplined to look
    Beyond these transient spheres, doth wear a crown
    Of earthly hope put on with trembling hand;                      110
    Nor is least pleased, we trust, when golden beams,
    Reflected through the mists of age, from hours
    Of innocent delight, remote or recent,
    Shoot but a little way--’tis all they can--
    Into the doubtful future. Who would keep                         115
    Power must resolve to cleave to it through life,
    Else it deserts him, surely as he lives.
    Saints would not grieve nor guardian angels frown
    If one--while tossed, as was my lot to be,
    In a frail bark urged by two slender oars                        120
    Over waves rough and deep,[79] that, when they broke,
    Dashed their white foam against the palace walls
    Of Genoa the superb--should there be led
    To meditate upon his own appointed tasks,
    However humble in themselves, with thoughts                      125
    Raised and sustained by memory of Him
    Who oftentimes within those narrow bounds
    Rocked on the surge, there tried his spirit’s strength
    And grasp of purpose, long ere sailed his ship
    To lay a new world open.
                              Nor less prized                        130
    Be those impressions which incline the heart
    To mild, to lowly, and to seeming weak,
    Bend that way her desires. The dew, the storm--
    The dew whose moisture fell in gentle drops
    On the small hyssop destined to become,                          135
    By Hebrew ordinance devoutly kept,
    A purifying instrument--the storm
    That shook on Lebanon the cedar’s top,
    And as it shook, enabling the blind roots
    Further to force their way, endowed its trunk                    140
    With magnitude and strength fit to uphold
    The glorious temple--did alike proceed
    From the same gracious will, were both an offspring
    Of bounty infinite.
                          Between Powers that aim
    Higher to lift their lofty heads, impelled                       145
    By no profane ambition, Powers that thrive
    By conflict, and their opposites, that trust
    In lowliness--a mid-way tract there lies
    Of thoughtful sentiment for every mind
    Pregnant with good. Young, Middle-aged, and Old,                 150
    From century on to century, must have known
    The emotion--nay, more fitly were it said--
    The blest tranquillity that sunk so deep
    Into my spirit, when I paced, enclosed
    In Pisa’s Campo Santo,[80] the smooth floor                      155
    Of its Arcades paved with sepulchral slabs,[81]
    And through each window’s open fret-work looked
    O’er the blank Area of sacred earth
    Fetched from Mount Calvary,[82] or haply delved
    In precincts nearer to the Saviour’s tomb,                       160
    By hands of men, humble as brave, who fought
    For its deliverance--a capacious field
    That to descendants of the dead it holds
    And to all living mute memento breathes,
    More touching far than aught which on the walls                  165
    Is pictured, or their epitaphs can speak,
    Of the changed City’s long-departed power,
    Glory, and wealth, which, perilous as they are,
    Here did not kill, but nourished, Piety.
    And, high above that length of cloistral roof,                   170
    Peering in air and backed by azure sky,
    To kindred contemplations ministers
    The Baptistery’s dome,[83] and that which swells
    From the Cathedral pile;[84] and with the twain
    Conjoined in prospect mutable or fixed                           175
    (As hurry on in eagerness the feet,
    Or pause) the summit of the Leaning-tower.[85]
    Nor[86] less remuneration waits on him
    Who having left the Cemetery stands
    In the Tower’s shadow, of decline and fall                       180
    Admonished not without some sense of fear,
    Fear that soon vanishes before the sight
    Of splendour unextinguished, pomp unscathed,
    And beauty unimpaired. Grand in itself,
    And for itself, the assemblage, grand and fair                   185
    To view, and for the mind’s consenting eye
    A type of age in man, upon its front
    Bearing the world-acknowledged evidence
    Of past exploits, nor fondly after more
    Struggling against the stream of destiny,                        190
    But with its peaceful majesty content.
    --Oh what a spectacle at every turn
    The Place unfolds, from pavement skinned with moss,
    Or grass-grown spaces, where the heaviest foot
    Provokes no echoes, but must softly tread;                       195
    Where Solitude with Silence paired stops short
    Of Desolation, and to Ruin’s scythe
    Decay submits not.
                          But where’er my steps
    Shall wander, chiefly let me cull with care
    Those images of genial beauty, oft                               200
    Too lovely to be pensive in themselves
    But by reflection made so, which do best
    And fitliest serve to crown with fragrant wreaths
    Life’s cup when almost filled with years, like mine.
    --How lovely robed in forenoon light and shade,                  205
    Each ministering to each, didst thou appear
    Savona,[87] Queen of territory fair
    As aught that marvellous coast thro’ all its length
    Yields to the Stranger’s eye. Remembrance holds
    As a selected treasure thy one cliff,                            210
    That, while it wore for melancholy crest
    A shattered Convent, yet rose proud to have
    Clinging to its steep sides a thousand herbs
    And shrubs, whose pleasant looks gave proof how kind
    The breath of air can be where earth had else                    215
    Seemed churlish. And behold, both far and near,
    Garden and field all decked with orange bloom,
    And peach and citron, in Spring’s mildest breeze
    Expanding; and, along the smooth shore curved
    Into a natural port, a tideless sea,                             220
    To that mild breeze with motion and with voice
    Softly responsive; and, attuned to all
    Those vernal charms of sight and sound, appeared
    Smooth space of turf which from the guardian fort
    Sloped seaward, turf whose tender April green,                   225
    In coolest climes too fugitive, might even here
    Plead with the sovereign Sun for longer stay
    Than his unmitigated beams allow,
    Nor plead in vain, if beauty could preserve,
    From mortal change, aught that is born on earth                  230
    Or doth on time depend.
                            While on the brink
    Of that high Convent-crested cliff I stood,
    Modest Savona! over all did brood
    A pure poetic Spirit--as the breeze,
    Mild--as the verdure, fresh--the sunshine, bright--              235
    Thy gentle Chiabrera![88]--not a stone,
    Mural or level with the trodden floor,
    In Church or Chapel, if my curious quest
    Missed not the truth, retains a single name
    Of young or old, warrior, or saint, or sage,                     240
    To whose dear memories his sepulchral verse[89]
    Paid simple tribute, such as might have flowed
    From the clear spring of a plain English heart,
    Say rather, one in native fellowship
    With all who want not skill to couple grief                      245
    With praise, as genuine admiration prompts.
    The grief, the praise, are severed from their dust,
    Yet in his page the records of that worth
    Survive, uninjured;--glory then to words,
    Honour to word-preserving Arts, and hail                         250
    Ye kindred local influences that still,
    If Hope’s familiar whispers merit faith,
    Await my steps when they the breezy height
    Shall range of philosophic Tusculum;[90]
    Or Sabine vales[91] explored inspire a wish                      255
    To meet the shade of Horace by the side
    Of his Bandusian fount;[92]--or I invoke
    His presence to point out the spot where once
    He sate, and eulogized with earnest pen
    Peace, leisure, freedom, moderate desires;                       260
    And all the immunities of rural life
    Extolled, behind Vacuna’s crumbling fane.[93]
    Or let me loiter, soothed with what is given
    Nor asking more, on that delicious Bay,[94]
    Parthenope’s Domain--Virgilian haunt,                            265
    Illustrated with never-dying verse,[95]
    And, by the Poet’s laurel-shaded tomb,[96]
    Age after age to Pilgrims from all lands
                And who--if not a man as cold
    In heart as dull in brain--while pacing ground                   270
    Chosen by Rome’s legendary Bards, high minds
    Out of her early struggles well inspired
    To localize heroic acts--could look
    Upon the spots with undelighted eye,
    Though even to their last syllable the Lays                      275
    And very names of those who gave them birth
    Have perished?--Verily, to her utmost depth,
    Imagination feels what Reason fears not
    To recognize, the lasting virtue lodged
    In those bold fictions that, by deeds assigned                   280
    To the Valerian, Fabian, Curian Race,
    And others like in fame, created Powers
    With attributes from History derived,
    By Poesy irradiate, and yet graced,
    Through marvellous felicity of skill,                            285
    With something more propitious to high aims
    Than either, pent within her separate sphere,
    Can oft with justice claim.
                                And not disdaining
    Union with those primeval energies
    To virtue consecrate, stoop ye from your height                  290
    Christian Traditions! at my Spirit’s call
    Descend, and, on the brow of ancient Rome
    As she survives in ruin, manifest
    Your glories mingled with the brightest hues
    Of her memorial halo, fading, fading,                            295
    But never to be extinct while Earth endures.
    O come, if undishonoured by the prayer,
    From all her Sanctuaries!--Open for my feet
    Ye Catacombs, give to mine eyes a glimpse
    Of the Devout, as, ’mid your glooms convened                     300
    For safety, they of yore enclasped the Cross[97]
    On knees that ceased from trembling, or intoned
    Their orisons with voices half-suppressed,
    But sometimes heard, or fancied to be heard,
    Even at this hour.
                      And thou Mamertine prison,[98]                 305
    Into that vault receive me from whose depth
    Issues, revealed in no presumptuous vision,
    Albeit lifting human to divine,
    A saint, the Church’s Rock, the mystic Keys
    Grasped in his hand;[99] and lo! with upright sword              310
    Prefiguring his own impendent doom,
    The Apostle of the Gentiles; both prepared
    To suffer pains with heathen scorn and hate
    Inflicted;--blessed Men, for so to Heaven
    They follow their dear Lord!
                                  Time flows--nor winds,             315
    Nor stagnates, nor precipitates his course,
    But many a benefit borne upon his breast
    For human-kind sinks out of sight, is gone,
    No one knows how; nor seldom is put forth
    An angry arm that snatches good away,                            320
    Never perhaps to reappear. The Stream
    Has to our generation brought and brings
    Innumerable gains; yet we, who now
    Walk in the light of day, pertain full surely
    To a chilled age, most pitiably shut out                         325
    From that which _is_ and actuates, by forms,
    Abstractions, and by lifeless fact to fact
    Minutely linked with diligence uninspired,
    Unrectified, unguided, unsustained,
    By godlike insight. To this fate is doomed                       330
    Science, wide-spread and spreading still as be
    Her conquests, in the world of sense made known.
    So with the internal mind it fares; and so
    With morals, trusting, in contempt or fear
    Of vital principle’s controlling law,                            335
    To her purblind guide Expediency; and so
    Suffers religious faith. Elate with view
    Of what is won, we overlook or scorn
    The best that should keep pace with it, and must,
    Else more and more the general mind will droop,                  340
    Even as if bent on perishing. There lives
    No faculty within us which the Soul
    Can spare,[100] and humblest earthly Weal demands,
    For dignity not placed beyond her reach,
    Zealous co-operation of all means                                345
    Given or acquired, to raise us from the mire,
    And liberate our hearts from low pursuits.
    By gross Utilities enslaved we need
    More of ennobling impulse from the past,
    If to the future aught of good must come                         350
    Sounder and therefore holier than the ends
    Which, in the giddiness of self-applause,
    We covet as supreme. O grant the crown
    That Wisdom wears, or take his treacherous staff
    From Knowledge!--If the Muse, whom I have served                 355
    This day, be mistress of a single pearl
    Fit to be placed in that pure diadem;
    Then, not in vain, under these chesnut boughs
    Reclined, shall I have yielded up my soul
    To transports from the secondary founts                          360
    Flowing of time and place, and paid to both
    Due homage; nor shall fruitlessly have striven,
    By love of beauty moved, to enshrine in verse
    Accordant meditations, which in times
    Vexed and disordered, as our own, may shed                       365
    Influence, at least among a scattered few,
    To soberness of mind and peace of heart
    Friendly; as here to my repose hath been
    This flowering broom’s dear neighbourhood,[101] the light
    And murmur issuing from yon pendent flood,                       370
    And all the varied landscape. Let us now
    Rise, and to-morrow greet magnificent Rome.[102]

[62] Wordsworth himself, his nephew tells us, had no sense of smell
(see the _Memoirs_, by his nephew Christopher, vol. ii. p. 322).--ED.

[63] Afterwards Father Faber, priest of the Oratory of St. Philip

[64] Monte Amiata,--ED.

[65] On the old high road from Siena to Rome.--ED.

[66] The mountain between Rydal Head and Helvellyn.--ED.

[67] Seat Sandal is the mountain between Tongue Ghyll and Grisedale
Tarn on the south and east, and the Dunmail Raise road on the west.--ED.

[68] Compare _The Eclipse of the Sun_, l. 78, in “Memorials of a Tour
on the Continent in 1820” (vol. vi. p. 345).--ED.

[69] Keppelcove, Nethermost cove, and the cove in which Red Tarn lies
bounded by the “skeleton arms” of Striding Edge and Swirrel Edge.
Compare _Fidelity_, l. 17, vol. iii. p. 45--

    It was a cove, a huge recess,
    That keeps, till June, December’s snow.


[70] Descending to Ullswater from Helvellyn, Greenside Fell and Mines
are passed.--ED.

[71] The Glenridding Screes are bold rocks on the left as you descend
Helvellyn to Patterdale.--ED.

[72] Glencoign is an offshoot of the Patterdale valley between
Glenridding and Goldbarrow.--ED.

[73] 1845.

    … but …


[74] See the Fenwick note.--ED.

[75] These words were quoted to me from _Yarrow Unvisited_, by Sir
Walter Scott, when I visited him at Abbotsford, a day or two before his
departure for Italy: and the affecting condition in which he was when
he looked upon Rome from the Janicular Mount, was reported to me by a
lady who had the honour of conducting him thither.--W.W. 1842. See also
the Fenwick note to this poem, and compare Lockhart’s _Memoirs of the
Life of Sir Walter Scott_ (chapter lxxx. vol. x. p. 104).--ED.

[76] The Janicular Mount.--ED.

[77] See the Fenwick note prefixed to this poem.--ED.

[78] He was then sixty-seven years of age.--ED.

[79] See the Fenwick note.--ED.

[80] The Campo Santo, or Burial Ground, founded by Archbishop Ubaldo

[81] “There are forty-three flat arcades, resting on forty-four
pilasters.… In the interior there is a spacious hall, the open
round-arched windows of which, with their beautiful tracery, sixty-two
in number, look out upon a green quadrangle.… The walls are covered
with frescoes by the Tuscan School of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries, below which is a collection of Roman, Etruscan, and
mediaeval sculptures.… The tombstones of persons interred here form the
pavement.” (Baedeker’s _Northern Italy_, p. 324.)--ED.

[82] Ubaldo conveyed hither fifty-three ship-loads of earth from Mount
Calvary, in the Holy Land, in order that the dead might repose in holy

[83] The Baptistery in Pisa was begun in 1153 by Diotisalvi, and
completed in 1278. It is a circular structure, covered by a conical
dome, 190 feet high.--ED.

[84] The Cathedral of Pisa is a basilica, built in 1063, in the Tuscan
style, and has an elliptical dome.--ED.

[85] The Campanile, or Clock-Tower, rises in eight stories to the
height of 179 feet, and (from its oblique position) is known as the

[86] 1845.

    Not …


[87] See the Fenwick note to this poem. Savona is a town on the Gulf of
Genoa, capital of the Montenotte Department under Napoleon.--ED.

[88] The theatre in Savona is dedicated to Chiabrera, who was a native
of the place.--ED.

[89] If any English reader should be desirous of knowing how far I
am justified in thus describing the epitaphs of Chiabrera, he will
find translated specimens of them in this Volume, under the head of
“Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces.”--W.W. 1842.

[90] Tusculum was the birthplace of the elder Cato, and the residence
of Cicero.--ED.

[91] “Satis beatus unicis Sabinis.” _Odes_, ii. 18, 14.--ED.

[92] See Horace, _Odes_, iii. 13.--ED.

[93] See Horace, _Epistles_, i. 10, 49--

    Haec tibi dictabam post fanum putre Vacunae.

Vacuna was a Sabine divinity. She had a sanctuary near Horace’s Villa.
(Compare Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ iii. 42, 47.) A traveller in Italy writes:
“Following a path along the brink of the torrent Digentia, we passed
a towering rock, on which once stood Vacuna’s shrine.” See also Ovid,
_Fasti_, vi. 307.--ED.

[94] The Bay of Naples. Neapolis (the new city) received its ancient
name of Parthenope from one of the Sirens, whose body was said to have
been washed ashore in that bay. Sil. 12, 33.--ED.

[95] See _Georgics_, iv. 564.--ED.

[96] Virgil died at Brundusium, but his remains were carried to his
favourite residence, Naples, and were buried by the side of the road
leading to Puteoli--the Via Puteolana. His tomb is still pointed out
near Posilipo,--close to the sea, and about half way from Naples to
Puteoli, the _Scuola di Virgilio_.

“The monument, now called the tomb of Virgil, is not on the road
which passes through the tunnel of Posilipo; but if the Via Puteolana
ascended the hill of Posilipo, as it may have done, the situation of
the monument would agree very well with the description of Donatus.”
(George Long, in Smith’s _Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography_.)

The inscription said to have been placed on the tomb was as follows:--

    Mantua me genuit, Calabri rapuere, tenet nunc
      Parthenope. Cecini pascua, rura, duces.


[97] The catacombs were subterranean chambers and passages, usually
cut out of the solid rock, and used as places of burial, or of refuge.
The early Christians made use of the catacombs in the Appian Way for
worship, as well as for sepulture.--ED.

[98] The Carcer Mamertinus,--one of the most ancient Roman
structures,--overhung the Forum, as Livy tells us, “imminens foro,”
underneath the Capitoline hill. It still exists, and is entered from
the sacristy of the church of S. Giuseppe de Falagnami, to the left
of the arch of Severus. It was originally a well (the _Tullianum_ of
Livy), and afterwards a prison, in which Jugurtha was starved to death,
and Catiline’s accomplices perished. There are two chambers in the
prison, one beneath the other; the lower-most containing, in its rock
floor, a spring, which rises nearly to the surface. For the legend
connected with it see the next note.--ED.

[99] According to the legend, St. Peter, who was imprisoned in the
_Carcer Mamertinus_ under Nero, caused this spring to flow miraculously
in order to baptize his jailors. Hence the building is called _S.
Pietro in Carcere._--ED.

[100] Compare “Despondency Corrected,” _The Excursion_, book iv. l.

    Within the soul a faculty abides, etc.


[101] See the Fenwick note.--ED.

[102] It would be ungenerous not to advert to the religious movement
that, since the composition of these verses in 1837, has made itself
felt, more or less strongly, throughout the English Church;--a movement
that takes, for its first principle, a devout deference to the voice of
Christian antiquity. It is not my office to pass judgment on questions
of theological detail; but my own repugnance to the spirit and system
of Romanism has been so repeatedly and, I trust, feelingly expressed,
that I shall not be suspected of a leaning that way, if I do not join
in the grave charge, thrown out, perhaps in the heat of controversy,
against the learned and pious men to whose labours I allude. I speak
apart from controversy; but, with strong faith in the moral temper
which would elevate the present by doing reverence to the past, I would
draw cheerful auguries for the English Church from this movement, as
likely to restore among us a tone of piety more earnest and real than
that produced by the mere formalities of the understanding, refusing,
in a degree, which I cannot but lament, that its own temper and
judgment shall be controlled by those of antiquity.--W.W. 1842.



[Sir George Beaumont told me that, when he first visited Italy,
pine-trees of this species abounded, but that on his return thither,
which was more than thirty years after, they had disappeared from many
places where he had been accustomed to admire them, and had become
rare all over the country, especially in and about Rome. Several Roman
villas have within these few years passed into the hands of foreigners,
who, I observed with pleasure, have taken care to plant this tree,
which in course of years will become a great ornament to the city
and to the general landscape. May I venture to add here, that having
ascended the Monte Mario, I could not resist embracing the trunk of
this interesting monument of my departed friend’s feelings for the
beauties of nature, and the power of that art which he loved so much,
and in the practice of which he was so distinguished?--I.F.]

    I saw far off the dark top of a Pine
    Look like a cloud--a slender stem the tie
    That bound it to its native earth--poised high
    ’Mid evening hues, along the horizon line,
    Striving in peace each other to outshine.                          5
    But when I learned the Tree was living there,
    Saved from the sordid axe by Beaumont’s care,[104]
    Oh, what a gush of tenderness was mine!
    The rescued Pine-tree, with its sky so bright
    And cloud-like beauty, rich in thoughts of home,                  10
    Death-parted friends, and days too swift in flight,
    Supplanted the whole majesty of Rome
    (Then first apparent from the Pincian Height)[105]
    Crowned with St. Peter’s everlasting dome.[106]

[103] The Monte Mario is to the north-west of Rome, beyond the
Janiculus and the Vatican. The view from the summit embraces Rome, the
Campagna, and the sea. It is capped by the villa Millini, in which the
“magnificent solitary pine-tree” of this sonnet still stands, amidst
its cypress plantations.--ED.

[104] “It was Mr. Theed, the sculptor, who informed us of the pine-tree
being the gift of Sir George Beaumont.” H.C. Robinson. (See _Memoirs of
Wordsworth_, by his nephew, vol. ii. p. 330.)--ED.

[105] From the _Mons Pincius_, “collis hortorum,” where were the
gardens of Lucullus, there is a remarkable view of modern Rome.--ED.

[106] Within a couple of hours of my arrival at Rome, I saw from
Monte Pincio, the Pine tree as described in the sonnet; and, while
expressing admiration at the beauty of its appearance, I was told by
an acquaintance of my fellow-traveller, who happened to join us at the
moment, that a price had been paid for it by the late Sir G. Beaumont,
upon condition that the proprietor should not act upon his known
intention of cutting it down.--W.W. 1842.



[Sight is at first sight a sad enemy to imagination and to those
pleasures belonging to old times with which some exertions of that
power will always mingle: nothing perhaps brings this truth home to
the feelings more than the city of Rome; not so much in respect to the
impression made at the moment when it is first seen and looked at as
a whole, for then the imagination may be invigorated and the mind’s
eye quickened; but when particular spots or objects are sought out,
disappointment is I believe invariably felt. Ability to recover from
this disappointment will exist in proportion to knowledge, and the
power of the mind to reconstruct out of fragments and parts, and to
make details in the present subservient to more adequate comprehension
of the past.--I.F.]

    Is this, ye Gods, the Capitolian Hill?
    Yon petty Steep in truth the fearful Rock,
    Tarpeian named of yore,[107] and keeping still
    That name, a local Phantom proud to mock
    The Traveller’s expectation?--Could our Will
    Destroy the ideal Power within, ’twere done
    Thro’ what men see and touch,--slaves wandering on,
    Impelled by thirst of all but Heaven-taught skill.
    Full oft, our wish obtained, deeply we sigh;
    Yet not unrecompensed are they who learn,                         10
    From that depression raised, to mount on high
    With stronger wing, more clearly to discern
    Eternal things; and, if need be, defy
    Change, with a brow not insolent, though stern.

[107] The Tarpeian rock, from which those condemned to death were
hurled, is not now precipitous, as it used to be: the ground having
been much raised by successive heaps of ruin.--ED.



    Those old credulities, to nature dear,
    Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock
    Of History, stript naked as a rock
    ’Mid a dry desert? What is it we hear?
    The glory of Infant Rome must disappear,[108]                      5
    Her morning splendours vanish, and their place
    Know them no more. If Truth, who veiled her face
    With those bright beams yet hid it not, must steer
    Henceforth a humbler course perplexed and slow;
    One solace yet remains for us who came                            10
    Into this world in days when story lacked
    Severe research, that in our hearts we know
    How, for exciting youth’s heroic flame,
    Assent is power, belief the soul of fact.

[108] Niebuhr, in his Lectures on Roman History (1826-29), was one of
the first to point out the legendary character of much of the earlier
history, and its “historical impossibility.” He explained the way
in which much of it had originated in family and national vanity,



    Complacent Fictions were they, yet the same
    Involved a history of no doubtful sense,
    History that proves by inward evidence
    From what a precious source of truth it came.
    Ne’er could the boldest Eulogist have dared                        5
    Such deeds to paint, such characters to frame,
    But for coeval sympathy prepared
    To greet with instant faith their loftiest claim.
    None but a noble people could have loved
    Flattery in Ancient Rome’s pure-minded style:                     10
    Not in like sort the Runic Scald was moved;
    He, nursed ’mid savage passions that defile
    Humanity, sang feats that well might call
    For the blood-thirsty mead of Odin’s riotous Hall.



    Forbear to deem the Chronicler unwise,
    Ungentle, or untouched by seemly ruth,
    Who, gathering up all that Time’s envious tooth
    Has spared of sound and grave realities,
    Firmly rejects those dazzling flatteries,                          5
    Dear as they are to unsuspecting Youth,
    That might have drawn down Clio from the skies
    To vindicate the majesty of truth.
    Such was her office while she walked with men,[109]
    A Muse, who,[110] not unmindful of her Sire                       10
    All-ruling Jove, whate’er the[111] theme might be
    Revered her Mother, sage Mnemosyne,
    And taught her faithful servants how the lyre
    Should[112] animate, but not mislead, the pen.[113]

[109] Clio, daughter of Zeus and Mnemosyne, the first-born of the
Muses, presided over History. It was her office to record the actions
of illustrious heroes.--ED.

[110] 1845.

    Her rights to claim, and vindicate the truth.
    Her faithful Servants while she walked with men
    Were they who, …


[111] 1845.

    … their …


[112] 1845.

    And, at the Muse’s will, invoked the lyre
    To animate, …



    Quem virum--lyra--
    --sumes celebrare Clio?

    W. W. 1842.



[I have a private interest in this Sonnet, for I doubt whether it
would ever have been written but for the lively picture given me by
Anna Ricketts of what she had witnessed of the indignation and sorrow
expressed by some Italian noblemen of their acquaintance upon the
surrender, which circumstances had obliged them to make, of the best
portion of their family mansions to strangers.--I.F.]

    They--who have seen the noble Roman’s scorn
    Break forth at thought of laying down his head,
    When the blank day is over, garreted
    In his ancestral palace, where, from morn
    To night, the desecrated floors are worn                           5
    By feet of purse-proud strangers; they--who have read
    In one meek smile, beneath a peasant’s shed,
    How patiently the weight of wrong is borne;
    They--who have heard some learned Patriot treat[114]
    Of freedom, with mind grasping the whole theme                    10
    From ancient Rome, downwards through that bright dream
    Of Commonwealths, each city a starlike seat
    Of rival glory; they--fallen Italy--
    Nor must, nor will, nor can, despair of Thee!



    Long has the dew been dried on tree and lawn;
    O’er man and beast a not unwelcome boon
    Is shed, the languor of approaching noon;
    To shady rest withdrawing or withdrawn
    Mute are all creatures, as this couchant fawn,                     5
    Save insect-swarms that hum in air afloat,
    Save that the Cock is crowing, a shrill note,
    Startling and shrill as that which roused the dawn.
    --Heard in that hour, or when, as now, the nerve
    Shrinks from the note[115] as from a mis-timed thing,             10
    Oft for a holy warning may it serve,
    Charged with remembrance of _his_ sudden sting,
    His bitter tears, whose name the Papal Chair
    And yon resplendent Church are proud to bear.

[114] 1845.

    They--who have heard thy lettered sages treat


[115] 1845.

      … voice …




[This Sonnet is founded on simple fact, and was written to enlarge,
if possible, the views of those who can see nothing but evil in the
intercessions countenanced by the Church of Rome. That they are in
many respects lamentably pernicious must be acknowledged; but, on the
other hand, they who reflect, while they see and observe, cannot but
be struck with instances which will prove that it is a great error to
condemn in all cases such mediation as purely idolatrous. This remark
bears with especial force upon addresses to the Virgin.--I.F.]

    Days passed--and Monte Calvo would not clear
    His head from mist; and, as the wind sobbed through
    Albano’s dripping Ilex avenue,[117]
    My dull forebodings in a Peasant’s ear
    Found casual vent. She said, “Be of good cheer;                    5
    Our yesterday’s procession did not sue
    In vain; the sky will change to sunny blue,
    Thanks to our Lady’s grace.” I smiled to hear,
    But not in scorn:--the Matron’s Faith may lack
    The heavenly sanction needed to ensure                            10
    Fulfilment; but, we trust, her upward track[118]
    Stops not at this low point, nor wants the lure
    Of flowers the Virgin without fear may own,
    For by her Son’s blest hand the seed was sown.

[116] Albano, 10 miles south-east of Rome, is a small town and
episcopal residence, a favourite autumnal resort of Roman citizens. It
is on the site of the ruins of the villa of Pompey. Monte Carlo (the
Monte Calvo of this sonnet) is the ancient _Mons Latialis_, 3127 feet
high. At its summit a convent of Passionist Monks occupies the site of
the ancient temple of Jupiter.--ED.

[117] The ilex-grove of the Villa Doria is one of the most marked
features of Albano.--ED.

[118] 1845.

    Its own fulfilment; but her upward track




    Near Anio’s stream,[119] I spied a gentle Dove
    Perched on an olive branch, and heard her cooing
    ’Mid new-born blossoms that soft airs were wooing,
    While all things present told of joy and love.
    But restless Fancy left that olive grove                           5
    To hail the exploratory Bird renewing
    Hope for the few, who, at the world’s undoing,
    On the great flood were spared to live and move.
    O bounteous Heaven! signs true as dove and bough
    Brought to the ark are coming evermore,                           10
    Given though we seek them not, but, while we plough[120]
    This sea of life without a visible shore,
    Do neither promise ask nor grace implore
    In what alone is ours, the living Now.[121]

[119] The Anio joins the Tiber north of Rome, flowing from the
north-east past Tivoli.--ED.

[120] 1845.

    Even though men seek them not, but, while they plough


[121] 1845.

    … the vouchsafed Now.




    Forgive, illustrious Country! these deep sighs,
    Heaved less for thy bright plains and hills bestrown
    With monuments decayed or overthrown,
    For all that tottering stands or prostrate lies,
    Than for like scenes in moral vision shown,                        5
    Ruin perceived for keener sympathies;
    Faith crushed, yet proud of weeds, her gaudy crown
    Virtues laid low, and mouldering energies.
    Yet why prolong this mournful strain?--Fallen Power,
    Thy fortunes, twice exalted,[122] might provoke                   10
    Verse to glad notes prophetic of the hour
    When thou, uprisen, shalt break thy double yoke,
    And enter, with prompt aid from the Most High,
    On the third stage of thy great destiny.[123]

[122] The ancient Classic period, and that of the Renaissance.--ED.

[123] This period seems to have been already entered. Compare Mrs.
Browning’s “Poems before Congress,” _passim_.--ED.



    When here with Carthage Rome to conflict came,[124]
    An earthquake, mingling with the battle’s shock,
    Checked not its rage;[125] unfelt the ground did rock,
    Sword dropped not, javelin kept its deadly aim.--
    Now all is sun-bright peace. Of that day’s shame,                  5
    Or glory, not a vestige seems to endure,
    Save in this Rill that took from blood the name[126]
    Which yet it bears, sweet Stream! as crystal pure.
    So may all trace and sign of deeds aloof
    From the true guidance of humanity,                               10
    Thro’ Time and Nature’s influence, purify
    Their spirit; or, unless they for reproof
    Or warning serve, thus let them all, on ground
    That gave them being, vanish to a sound.

[124] The Carthaginian general Hannibal defeated the Roman Consul C.
Flaminius, near the lacus Trasimenus, 217 B.C., with a loss of 15,000
men. (See Livy, book xxii. 4, etc.)--ED.

[125] Compare _Hannibal, A Historical Drama_, by the late Professor
John Nichol, act II. scene vi. p. 107--

                            Here shall shepherds tell
    To passing travellers, when we are dust,
    How, by the shores of reedy Thrasymene,
    We fought and conquered, while the earthquake shook
    The walls of Rome.


[126] Sanguinetto.--W.W. 1845.



    For action born, existing to be tried,
    Powers manifold we have that intervene
    To stir the heart that would too closely screen
    Her peace from images to pain allied.
    What wonder if at midnight, by the side                            5
    Of Sanguinetto or broad Thrasymene,[127]
    The clang of arms is heard, and phantoms glide,
    Unhappy ghosts in troops by moonlight seen;
    And singly thine, O vanquished Chief![128] whose corse,
    Unburied, lay hid under heaps of slain:                           10
    But who is He?--the Conqueror. Would he force
    His way to Rome? Ah, no,--round hill and plain
    Wandering, he haunts, at fancy’s strong command,
    This spot--his shadowy death-cup in his hand.[129]

[127] Lake Thrasymene is the largest of the Etrurian lakes, being ten
miles in length and three in breadth.--ED.

[128] C. Flaminius.--ED.

[129] After the battle of Lake Thrasymene, Hannibal did not push on to
Rome, but turned through the Apennines to Apulia, just as subsequently
after the battle of Cannas he remained inactive.--ED.



MAY 25TH 1837

[Among a thousand delightful feelings connected in my mind with
the voice of the cuckoo, there is a personal one which is rather
melancholy. I was first convinced that age had rather dulled my
hearing, by not being able to catch the sound at the same distance as
the younger companions of my walks; and of this failure I had a proof
upon the occasion that suggested these verses. I did not hear the sound
till Mr. Robinson had twice or thrice directed my attention to it.]

    List--’twas the Cuckoo.--O with what delight
    Heard I that voice! and catch it now, though faint,[131]
    Far off and faint, and melting into air,
    Yet not to be mistaken. Hark again!
    Those louder cries give notice that the Bird,                      5
    Although invisible as Echo’s self,[132]
    Is wheeling hitherward. Thanks, happy Creature,
    For this unthought-of greeting!
                                      While allured
    From vale to hill, from hill to vale led on,
    We have pursued, through various lands, a long                    10
    And pleasant course; flower after flower has blown,
    Embellishing the ground that gave them birth
    With aspects novel to my sight; but still
    Most fair, most welcome, when they drank the dew
    In a sweet fellowship with kinds beloved,                         15
    For old remembrance sake. And oft--where Spring
    Display’d her richest blossoms among files
    Of orange-trees bedecked with glowing fruit
    Ripe for the hand, or under a thick shade
    Of Ilex, or, if better suited to the hour,                        20
    The lightsome Olive’s twinkling canopy--[133]
    Oft have I heard the Nightingale and Thrush
    Blending as in a common English grove
    Their love-songs; but, where’er my feet might roam,
    Whate’er assemblages of new and old,                              25
    Strange and familiar, might beguile the way,
    A gratulation from that vagrant Voice
    Was wanting;--and most happily till now.

    For see, Laverna! mark the far-famed Pile,
    High on the brink of that precipitous rock,[134]                  30
    Implanted like a Fortress, as in truth
    It is, a Christian Fortress, garrisoned
    In faith and hope, and dutiful obedience,
    By a few Monks, a stern society,
    Dead to the world and scorning earth-born joys.                   35
    Nay--though the hopes that drew, the fears that drove,
    St. Francis, far from Man’s resort, to abide
    Among these sterile heights of Apennine, [135]
    Bound him, nor, since he raised yon House, have ceased
    To bind his spiritual Progeny, with rules                         40
    Stringent as flesh can tolerate and live;[136]
    His milder Genius (thanks to the good God
    That made us) over those severe restraints
    Of mind, that dread heart-freezing discipline,
    Doth sometimes here predominate, and works                        45
    By unsought means for gracious purposes;
    For earth through heaven, for heaven, by changeful earth,
    Illustrated, and mutually endeared.

      Rapt though He were above the power of sense,
    Familiarly, yet out of the cleansed heart                         50
    Of that once sinful Being overflowed
    On sun, moon, stars, the nether elements,
    And every shape of creature they sustain,
    Divine affections; and with beast and bird
    (Stilled from afar--such marvel story tells--                     55
    By casual outbreak of his passionate words,
    And from their own pursuits in field or grove
    Drawn to his side by look or act of love
    Humane, and virtue of his innocent life)
    He wont to hold companionship so free,                            60
    So pure, so fraught with knowledge and delight,
    As to be likened in his Followers’ minds
    To that which our first Parents, ere the fall
    From their high state darkened the Earth with fear,
    Held with all Kinds in Eden’s blissful bowers.                    65

      Then question not that, ’mid the austere Band,
    Who breathe the air he breathed, tread where he trod,
    Some true Partakers of his loving spirit
    Do still survive,[137] and, with those gentle hearts
    Consorted, Others, in the power, the faith,                       70
    Of a baptized imagination, prompt
    To catch from Nature’s humblest monitors
    Whate’er they bring of impulses sublime.

      Thus sensitive must be the Monk, though pale
    With fasts, with vigils worn, depressed by years,                 75
    Whom in a sunny glade I chanced to see,
    Upon a pine-tree’s storm-uprooted trunk,
    Seated alone, with forehead sky-ward raised,
    Hands clasped above the crucifix he wore
    Appended to his bosom, and lips closed                            80
    By the joint pressure of his musing mood
    And habit of his vow. That ancient Man--
    Nor haply less the Brother whom I marked,
    As we approached the Convent gate, aloft
    Looking far forth from his aerial cell,                           85
    A young Ascetic--Poet, Hero, Sage,
    He might have been, Lover belike he was--
    If they received into a conscious ear
    The notes whose first faint greeting startled me,
    Whose sedulous iteration thrilled with joy                        90
    My heart--may have been moved like me to think,
    Ah! not like me who walk in the world’s ways,
    On the great Prophet, styled _the Voice of One_
    _Crying amid the wilderness_, and given,
    Now that their snows must melt, their herbs and flowers           95
    Revive, their obstinate winter pass away,
    That awful name to Thee, thee, simple Cuckoo,
    Wandering in solitude, and evermore
    Foretelling and proclaiming, ere thou leave
    This thy last haunt beneath Italian skies                        100
    To carry thy glad tidings over heights
    Still loftier, and to climes more near the Pole.

      Voice of the Desert, fare-thee-well; sweet Bird!
    If that substantial title please thee more,
    Farewell!--but go thy way, no need hast thou                     105
    Of a good wish sent after thee; from bower
    To bower as green, from sky to sky as clear,
    Thee gentle breezes waft--or airs that meet
    Thy course and sport around thee softly fan--
    Till Night, descending upon hill and vale,                       110
    Grants to thy mission a brief term of silence,
    And folds thy pinions up in blest repose.

[130] Laverna is a corruption of _Alverna_ (now called Alverniac). It
is about five or six hours’ walk from Camaldoli, on a height of the
Apennines, not far from the sources of the Anio. To reach it, “the
southern height of the Monte Valterona is ascended as far as the chapel
of St. Romaiald; then a descent is made to Moggiona, beyond which the
path turns to the left, traversing a long and fatiguing succession of
gorges and slopes; the path at the base of the mountain is therefore
preferable. The market town of Soci in the valley of the Archiano
is first reached, then the profound valley of the Corsaline; beyond
it rises a blunted cone, on which the path ascends in windings to a
stony plain with marshy meadows. Above this rises the abrupt sandstone
mass of the _Vernia_, to the height of 850 feet. On its S.W. slope,
one-third of the way up, and 3906 feet above the sea-level, is seen a
wall with small windows, the oldest part of the monastery, built in
1218 by St. Francis of Assisi. The church dates from 1284.… One of the
grandest points is the _Penna della Vernia_ (4796 feet), the ridge of
the Vernia, also known as _l’Apennino_, the ‘rugged rock between the
sources of the Tiber and Anio,’ as it is called by Dante (_Paradiso_,
ii. 106).… Near the monastery are the _Luoghi Santi_, a number of
grottos and rock-hewn chambers in which St. Francis once lived.” (See
Baedeker’s _Northern Italy_, 1886, p. 463.)

“The Monte Alverno, or Monte della Verni is situated on the border
of Tuscany, near the sources of the Tiber and Anio, not far from the
Castle of Chiusi, where Orlando lived.” (Mrs. Oliphant’s _Francis of
Assisi_, chap. xvi. p. 248.)

See also Herzog’s _Real-Encyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und
Kirche_, vol. iv. p. 655.--ED.

[131] Compare _To the Cuckoo_, II. 3, 4 (vol. ii. p. 289)--

                      … Bird,
    Or but a wandering Voice?


[132] Compare _To the Cuckoo_, l. 15 (vol. ii. p. 290)--

    No bird, but an invisible thing.


[133] From the difference in the colour of each side of the leaf,
a grove of olives when _wind-tossed_ is pre-eminently a “twinkling

[134] See note, p. 67.--ED.

[135] St. Francis of Assisi, founder of the order of Friars Minors,
after establishing numerous monasteries in Italy, Spain, and France,
resigned his office and retired to this, one of the highest of the
Apennine heights. See note, p. 67. He was canonised in 1230. Henry
Crabb Robinson tells us, “It was at Laverna that he” [W.W.] “led me to
expect that he had found a subject on which he could write, and that
was the love which birds bore to St. Francis. He repeated to me a short
time afterwards a few lines, which I do not recollect amongst those
he has written on St. Francis in this poem. On the journey, one night
only I heard him in bed composing verses, and on the following day I
offered to be his amanuensis; but I was not patient enough, I fear, and
he did not employ me a second time. He made inquiries for St. Francis’s
biography, as if he would dub him his Leibheiliger (body-saint), as
Goethe (saying that every one must have one) declared St. Philip Neri
to be his.” (See the _Memoirs of William Wordsworth_, by his nephew,
vol. ii. p. 331)--ED.

[136] The characteristic feature of the Franciscan order was its vow
of Poverty, and Francis desired that it should be taken in the most
rigorous sense, viz. that no individual member of the fraternity,
nor the fraternity itself, should be allowed to possess any property
whatsoever, even in things necessary to human use.--ED.

[137] The members of the Franciscan order were the Stoics of
Christendom. The order has been powerful, and of great service to
the Roman Church--alike in literature, and in practical action and



This famous sanctuary was the original establishment of Saint Romualdo
(or Rumwald, as our ancestors saxonised the name) in the 11th century,
the ground (campo) being given by a Count Maldo. The Camaldolensi,
however, have spread wide as a branch of Benedictines, and may
therefore be classed among the _gentlemen_ of the monastic orders. The
society comprehends two orders, monks and hermits; symbolised by their
arms, two doves drinking out of the same cup. The monastery in which
the monks here reside is beautifully situated, but a large unattractive
edifice, not unlike a factory. The hermitage is placed in a loftier and
wilder region of the forest. It comprehends between 20 and 30 distinct
residences, each including for its single hermit an inclosed piece of
ground and three very small apartments. There are days of indulgence
when the hermit may quit his cell, and when old age arrives, he
descends from the mountain and takes his abode among the monks.

My companion had, in the year 1831, fallen in with the monk, the
subject of these two sonnets, who showed him his abode among the
hermits. It is from him that I received the following[138] particulars.
He was then about 40 years of age, but his appearance was that of an
older man. He had been a painter by profession, but on taking orders
changed his name from Santi to Raffaello, perhaps with an unconscious
reference as well to the great Sanzio d’Urbino as to the archangel.
He assured my friend that he had been 13 years in the hermitage and
had never known melancholy or ennui. In the little recess for study
and prayer, there was a small collection of books. “I read only,” said
he, “books of asceticism and mystical theology.” On being asked the
names of the most famous[139] mystics, he enumerated _Scaramelli_, _San
Giovanni della Croce_, _St. Dionysius the Areopagite_ (supposing the
work which bears his name to be really his),[140] and with peculiar
emphasis _Ricardo di San Vittori_. The works of _Saint Theresa_ are
also in high repute among ascetics.[141] These names may interest some
of my readers.

We heard that Raffaello was then living in the convent; my friend
sought in vain to renew his acquaintance with him. It was probably a
day of seclusion. The reader will perceive that these sonnets were
supposed to be written when he was a young man.--W.W. 1842.

The monastery of Camaldoli is on the highest point of the hills near
Naples (1476 feet), and commands one of the finest views in Italy.--ED.

    Grieve for the Man who hither came bereft,
    And seeking consolation from above;
    Nor grieve the less that skill to him was left
    To paint this picture of his lady-love:
    Can she, a blessed saint, the work approve?                        5
    And O, good Brethren of the cowl, a thing
    So fair, to which with peril he must cling,
    Destroy in pity, or with care remove.
    That bloom--those eyes--can they assist to bind
    Thoughts that would stray from Heaven? The dream must cease       10
    To be; by Faith, not sight, his soul must live;
    Else will the enamoured Monk too surely find
    How wide a space can part from inward peace
    The most profound repose his cell can give.

[138] 1845.

    received these particulars.


[139] 1845.

    famous Italian mystics,


[140] 1845.

    _San Dionysia_, _Areopagitica_, and with


[141] 1845.

    are among ascetics in high repute, but she was a Spaniard.




    The world forsaken, all its busy cares
    And stirring interests shunned with desperate flight,
    All trust abandoned in the healing might
    Of virtuous action; all that courage dares,
    Labour accomplishes, or patience bears--                           5
    Those helps rejected, they, whose minds perceive
    How subtly works man’s weakness, sighs may heave
    For such a One beset with cloistral snares.
    Father of Mercy! rectify his view,
    If with his vows this object ill agree;                           10
    Shed over it thy grace, and thus subdue[142]
    Imperious passion in a heart set free:--
    That earthly love may to herself be true,
    Give him a soul that cleaveth unto thee.

[142] 1845.

    … and so subdue




    What aim had they, the Pair of Monks, in size[143]
    Enormous, dragged, while side by side they sate,
    By panting steers up to this convent gate?
    How, with empurpled cheeks and pampered eyes,
    Dare they confront the lean austerities                            5
    Of Brethren, who, here fixed, on Jesu wait
    In sackcloth, and God’s anger deprecate
    Through all that humbles flesh and mortifies?
    Strange contrast!--verily the world of dreams,
    Where mingle, as for mockery combined,                            10
    Things in their very essences at strife,
    Shows not a sight incongruous as the extremes
    That everywhere, before the thoughtful mind,
    Meet on the solid ground of waking life.[144]

[143] In justice to the Benedictines of Camaldoli, by whom strangers
are so hospitably entertained, I feel obliged to notice, that I saw
among them no other figures at all resembling, in size and complexion,
the two Monks described in this Sonnet. What was their office, or the
motive which brought them to this place of mortification, which they
could not have approached without being carried in this or some other
way, a feeling of delicacy prevented me from inquiring. An account has
before been given of the hermitage they were about to enter. It was
visited by us towards the end of the month of May; yet snow was lying
thick under the pine-trees, within a few yards of the gate.--W.W. 1842.

[144] See note, pp. 72, 73.--ED.



[I must confess, though of course I did not acknowledge it in the few
lines I wrote in the Strangers’ book kept at the convent, that I was
somewhat disappointed at Vallombrosa. I had expected, as the name
implies, a deep and narrow valley overshadowed by enclosing hills; but
the spot where the convent stands is in fact not a valley at all, but
a cove or crescent open to an extensive prospect. In the book before
mentioned, I read the notice in the English language that if anyone
would ascend the steep ground above the convent, and wander over it, he
would be abundantly rewarded by magnificent views. I had not time to
act upon this recommendation, and only went with my young guide to a
point, nearly on a level with the site of the convent, that overlooks
the Vale of Arno for some leagues. To praise great and good men has
ever been deemed one of the worthiest employments of poetry, but the
objects of admiration vary so much with time and circumstances, and
the noblest of mankind have been found, when intimately known, to be
of characters so imperfect, that no eulogist can find a subject which
he will venture upon with the animation necessary to create sympathy,
unless he confines himself to a particular part or he takes something
of a one-sided view of the person he is disposed to celebrate. This
is a melancholy truth, and affords a strong reason for the poetic
mind being chiefly exercised in works of fiction: the poet can then
follow wherever the spirit of admiration leads him, unchecked by such
suggestions as will be too apt to cross his way if all that he is
prompted to utter is to be tested by fact. Something in this spirit I
have written in the note attached to the Sonnet on the King of Sweden;
and many will think that in this poem and elsewhere I have spoken
of the author of _Paradise Lost_ in a strain of panegyric scarcely
justifiable by the tenor of some of his opinions, whether theological
or political, and by the temper he carried into public affairs, in
which, unfortunately for his genius, he was so much concerned.--I.F.]

    Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks
    In Vallombrosa, where Etrurian shades
    High over-arch’d embower.

                                    PARADISE LOST.[146]

    “Vallombrosa--I longed in thy shadiest wood
    To slumber, reclined on the moss-covered floor!”[147]
    Fond wish that was granted at last, and the Flood,
    That lulled me asleep, bids me listen once more.
    Its murmur how soft! as it falls down the steep,                   5
    Near that Cell--yon sequestered Retreat high in air--[148]
    Where our Milton was wont lonely vigils to keep
    For converse with God, sought through study and prayer.
    The Monks still repeat the tradition with pride,
    And its truth who shall doubt? for his Spirit is here;[149]       10
    In the cloud-piercing rocks doth her grandeur abide,
    In the pines pointing heavenward her beauty austere;
    In the flower-besprent meadows his genius we trace
    Turned to humbler delights, in which youth might confide,
    That would yield him fit help while prefiguring that Place        15
    Where, if Sin had not entered, Love never had died.

    When with life lengthened out came a desolate time,
    And darkness and danger had compassed him round,
    With a thought he would[150] flee to these haunts of his prime,
    And here once again a kind shelter be found.                      20
    And let me believe that when nightly the Muse
    Did[151] waft him to Sion, the glorified hill,[152]
    Here also, on some favoured height, he[153] would choose
    To wander, and drink inspiration at will.

    Vallombrosa! of thee I first heard in the page                    25
    Of that holiest of Bards, and the name for my mind
    Had a musical charm, which the winter of age
    And the changes it brings had no power to unbind.
    And now, ye Miltonian shades! under you
    I repose, nor am forced from sweet fancy to part,                 30
    While your leaves I behold and the brooks they will strew,
    And the realised vision is clasped to my heart.

    Even so, and unblamed, we rejoice as we may
    In Forms that must perish, frail objects of sense;
    Unblamed--if the Soul be intent on the day                        35
    When the Being of Beings shall summon her hence.
    For he and he only with wisdom is blest
    Who, gathering true pleasures wherever they grow,
    Looks up in all places, for joy or for rest,
    To the Fountain whence Time and Eternity flow.                    40

[145] The name of Milton is pleasingly connected with Vallombrosa in
many ways. The pride with which the Monk, without any previous question
from me, pointed out his residence, I shall not readily forget. It may
be proper here to defend the Poet from a charge which has been brought
against him, in respect to the passage in _Paradise Lost_, where this
place is mentioned. It is said, that he has erred in speaking of the
trees there being deciduous, whereas they are, in fact, pines. The
fault-finders are themselves mistaken; the _natural_ woods of the
region of Vallombrosa _are_ deciduous, and spread to a great extent;
those near the convent are, indeed, mostly pines; but they are avenues
of trees _planted_ within a few steps of each other, and thus composing
large tracts of wood; plots of which are periodically cut down. The
appearance of those narrow avenues, upon steep slopes open to the sky,
on account of the height which the trees attain by being _forced_
to grow upwards, is often very impressive. My guide, a boy of about
fourteen years old, pointed this out to me in several places.--W.W.

[146] Compare _Paradise Lost_, book i. l. 302. Vallombrosa--the shady
valley--is 18 miles distant from Florence. Wordsworth’s quotation from
Milton was from memory. It is not quite accurate.--ED.

[147] See for the two _first lines_, _Stanzas composed in the Simplon
Pass_.--W.W. 1842. (See vol. vi. p. 357.)--ED.

[148] The monastery of Vallombrosa was founded about 1050, by S.
Giovanni Gnalberto. It was suppressed in 1869, and is now converted
into the R. Instituto Forestale, or forest school. The “cell,” the
“sequestered retreat” referred to by Wordsworth, is doubtless _Il
Paradisino_, or _Le Celle_, a small hermitage 266 feet above the
monastery, which is itself 2980 feet above the sea.--ED.

[149] Compare Milton’s letter to Benedetto Bonmattei of Florence,
written during his stay in the city, September 10, 1638.--ED.

[150] 1845.

    … might …


[151] 1845.

    Would …


[152] Compare _Paradise Lost_, book iii. l. 29--

                                … but chief
    Thee, Sion, and the flourie Brooks beneath,
    That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow,
    Nightly I visit.


[153] 1845.

    … they …




[Upon what evidence the belief rests that this stone was a favourite
seat of Dante, I do not know; but a man would little consult his own
interest as a traveller, if he should busy himself with doubts as
to the fact. The readiness with which traditions of this character
are received, and the fidelity with which they are preserved from
generation to generation, are an evidence of feelings honourable to
our nature. I remember how, during one of my rambles in the course
of a college vacation, I was pleased on being shown a seat near a
kind of rocky cell at the source of the river, on which it was said
that Congreve wrote his _Old Bachelor_. One can scarcely hit on any
performance less in harmony with the scene; but it was a local tribute
paid to intellect by those who had not troubled themselves to estimate
the moral worth of that author’s comedies; and why should they? He
was a man distinguished in his day; and the sequestered neighbourhood
in which he often resided was perhaps as proud of him as Florence of
her Dante: it is the same feeling, though proceeding from persons one
cannot bring together in this way without offering some apology to the
Shade of the great Visionary.--I.F.]

    Under the shadow of a stately Pile,
    The dome of Florence, pensive and alone,
    Nor giving heed to aught that passed the while,
    I stood, and gazed upon a marble stone,
    The laurelled Dante’s favourite seat.[154] A throne,               5
    In just esteem, it rivals; though no style
    Be there of decoration to beguile
    The mind, depressed by thought of greatness flown.
    As a true man, who long had served the lyre,
    I gazed with earnestness, and dared no more.                      10
    But in his breast the mighty Poet bore
    A Patriot’s heart, warm with undying fire.
    Bold with the thought, in reverence I sate down,
    And, for a moment, filled that empty Throne.

[154] The _Sasso di Dante_ is built into the wall of the house, No. 29
Casa dei Canonici, close to the Duomo.--ED.



[It was very hot weather during the week we stayed at Florence; and,
never having been there before, I went through much hard service, and
am not therefore _ashamed_ to confess I fell asleep before this picture
and sitting with my back towards the Venus de Medicis. Buonaparte--in
answer to one who had spoken of his being in a sound sleep up to the
moment when one of his great battles was to be fought, as a proof
of the calmness of his mind and command over anxious thoughts--said
frankly, that he slept because from bodily exhaustion he could not help
it. In like manner it is noticed that criminals on the night previous
to their execution seldom awake before they are called, a proof that
the body is the master of us far more than we need be willing to allow.
Should this note by any possible chance be seen by any of my countrymen
who might have been in the gallery at the time (and several persons
were there) and witnessed such an indecorum, I hope he will give up the
opinion which he might naturally have formed to my prejudice.--I.F.]

    The Baptist might have been ordain’d to cry
    Forth from the towers of that huge Pile, wherein
    His Father served Jehovah; but how win
    Due audience, how for aught but scorn defy
    The obstinate pride and wanton revelry                             5
    Of the Jerusalem below, her sin
    And folly, if they with united din
    Drown not at once mandate and prophecy?
    Therefore the Voice spake from the Desert, thence
    To Her, as to her opposite in peace,                              10
    Silence, and holiness, and innocence,
    To Her and to all Lands its warning sent,
    Crying with earnestness that might not cease,
    “Make straight a highway for the Lord--repent!”

[155] This sonnet refers to the picture of the young St. John the
Baptist, now in the Tribuna, Florence, designed about the same time as
the Madonna di San Sisto, for Cardinal Colonna, who is said to have
presented it to his doctor, Jacopo da Carpi. It has been much admired,
and often copied; but it is inferior, both in drawing and in colouring,
to the great works of Raphael. How much of it was actually from his
hand is uncertain; and Baptist is painted rather like a Bacchus than a



[However at first these two sonnets from Michael Angelo may seem in
their spirit somewhat inconsistent with each other, I have not scrupled
to place them side by side as characteristic of their great author,
and others with whom he lived. I feel, nevertheless, a wish to know
at what periods of his life they were respectively composed.[156] The
latter, as it expresses, was written in his advanced years, when it
was natural that the Platonism that pervades the one should give way to
the Christian feeling that inspired the other: between both there is
more than poetic affinity.--I.F.]

    Rapt above earth by power of one fair face,
    Hers in whose sway alone my heart delights,
    I mingle with the blest on those pure heights
    Where Man, yet mortal, rarely finds a place.
    With Him who made the Work that Work accords                       5
    So well, that by its help and through his grace
    I raise my thoughts, inform my deeds and words,
    Clasping her beauty in my soul’s embrace.
    Thus, if from two fair eyes mine cannot turn,
    I feel how in their presence doth abide                           10
    Light which to God is both the way and guide;
    And, kindling at their lustre, if I burn,
    My noble fire emits the joyful ray
    That through the realms of glory shines for aye.

[156] The second of the two sonnets translated by Wordsworth is No.
lxxiii. in Signor Cesare Guastî’s edition of Michael Angelo (1863).


_Scaro d’un’ importuna._

It was evidently written in old age. The following is Mr. John
Addington Symond’s translation of the same sonnet.

    Freed from a burden sore and grievous band,
      Dear Lord, and from this wearying world untied,
      Like a frail bark I turn me to Thy side,
      As from a fierce storm to a tranquil land.
    Thy thorns, Thy nails, and either bleeding hand,
      With Thy mild gentle piteous face, provide
      Promise of help and mercies multiplied,
      And hope that yet my soul secure may stand.
    Let not Thy holy eyes be just to see
      My evil part, Thy chastened ears to hear,
      And stretch the arm of judgment to my crime:
    Let Thy blood only love and succour me,
      Yielding more perfect pardon, better cheer,
      As older still I grow with lengthening time.

_The Sonnets of Michael Angelo Buonarroti and Tomaso Campanella_, by
John Addington Symonds, p. 110.

Compare Wordsworth’s translation of other three sonnets by Michael
Angelo (vol. iii. pp. 380-384).--ED.



    Eternal Lord! eased of a cumbrous load,
    And loosened from the world, I turn to Thee;
    Shun, like a shattered bark, the storm, and flee
    To thy protection for a safe abode.
    The crown of thorns, hands pierced upon the tree,                  5
    The meek, benign, and lacerated face,
    To a sincere repentance promise grace,
    To the sad soul give hope of pardon free.
    With justice mark not Thou, O Light divine,
    My fault, nor hear it with thy sacred ear;                        10
    Neither put forth that way thy arm severe;
    Wash with thy blood my sins; thereto incline
    More readily the more my years require
    Help, and forgiveness speedy and entire.



[The political revolutions of our time have multiplied, on the
Continent, objects that unavoidably call forth reflections such as are
expressed in these verses, but the Ruins in those countries are too
recent to exhibit, in anything like an equal degree, the beauty with
which time and nature have invested the remains of our Convents and
Abbeys. These verses, it will be observed, take up the beauty long
before it is matured, as one cannot but wish it may be among some of
the desolations of Italy, France, and Germany.--I.F.]

    Ye Trees! whose slender roots entwine
      Altars that piety neglects;
    Whose infant arms enclasp the shrine
      Which no devotion now respects;
    If not a straggler from the herd                                   5
    Here ruminate, nor shrouded bird,
    Chanting her low-voiced hymn, take pride
    In aught that ye would grace or hide--
    How sadly is your love misplaced,
    Fair Trees, your bounty run to waste!                             10

    Ye, too,[157] wild Flowers! that no one heeds,
    And ye--full often spurned as weeds--
    In beauty clothed, or breathing sweetness
    From fractured arch and mouldering wall--
    Do but more touchingly recal                                      15
    Man’s headstrong violence and Time’s fleetness,
    Making[158] the precincts ye adorn
    Appear to sight still more forlorn.

[157] 1845.

    And ye, …


[158] 1845.

    And make …




    See, where his difficult way that Old Man wins
    Bent by a load of Mulberry leaves!--most hard
    Appears _his_ lot, to the small Worm’s compared,
    For whom his toil with early day begins.
    Acknowledging no task-master, at will                              5
    (As if her labour and her ease were twins)
    _She_ seems to work, at pleasure to lie still;--
    And softly sleeps within the thread she spins.
    So fare they--the Man serving as her Slave.
    Ere long their fates do each to each conform:                     10
    Both pass into new being,--but the Worm,
    Transfigured, sinks into a hopeless grave;
    _His_ volant Spirit will, he trusts, ascend
    To bliss unbounded, glory without end.



[I had proof in several instances that the Carbonari, if I may still
call them so, and their favourers, are opening their eyes to the
necessity of patience, and are intent upon spreading knowledge actively
but quietly as they can. May they have resolution to continue in this
course! for it is the only one by which they can truly benefit their
country. We left Italy by the way which is called the “Nuova Strada de
Allmagna,” to the east of the high passes of the Alps, which take you
at once from Italy into Switzerland. This road leads across several
smaller heights, and winds down different vales in succession, so that
it was only by the accidental sound of a few German words that I was
aware we had quitted Italy, and hence the unwelcome shock alluded to in
the two or three last lines of the latter sonnet.--I.F.]

    Fair Land! Thee all men greet with joy; how few,
    Whose souls take pride in freedom, virtue, fame,
    Part from thee without pity dyed in shame:
    I could not--while from Venice we withdrew,
    Led on till an Alpine strait confined our view[159]                5
    Within its depths, and to the shore we came
    Of Lago Morto, dreary sight and name,
    Which o’er sad thoughts a sadder colouring threw.
    Italia! on the surface of thy spirit,
    (Too aptly emblemed by that torpid lake)                          10
    Shall a few partial breezes only creep?--
    Be its depths quickened; what thou dost inherit
    Of the world’s hopes, dare to fulfil; awake,
    Mother of Heroes, from thy death-like sleep!

[159] They left Venice by the Nuova Strada de Allmagna, resting
at Logerone, Sillian, Spittal (in Carinthia), and thence on to



    As indignation mastered grief, my tongue
    Spake bitter words; words that did ill agree
    With those rich stores of Nature’s imagery,
    And divine Art, that fast to memory clung--
    Thy gifts, magnificent Region, ever young                          5
    In the sun’s eye, and in his sister’s sight
    How beautiful! how worthy to be sung
    In strains of rapture, or subdued delight!
    I feign not; witness that unwelcome shock
    That followed the first sound of German speech,                   10
    Caught the far-winding barrier Alps among.
    In that announcement, greeting seemed to mock[160]
    Parting; the casual word had power to reach
    My heart, and filled that heart with conflict strong.

[160] See the Fenwick note to the last sonnet.--ED.


Composed 1837.--Published 1842

This was originally (1842) included in the “Memorials of a Tour in
Italy,” but, in 1845, it was transferred, along with the two which
follow it, to the “Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order.”--ED.


    Ah why deceive ourselves! by no mere fit
    Of sudden passion roused shall men attain
    True freedom where for ages they have lain
    Bound in a dark abominable pit,
    With life’s best sinews more and more unknit.                      5
    Here, there, a banded few who loathe the chain
    May rise to break it: effort worse than vain
    For thee, O great Italian nation, split
    Into those jarring fractions.--Let thy scope
    Be one fixed mind for all; thy rights approve                     10
    To thy own conscience gradually renewed;
    Learn to make Time the father of wise Hope;
    Then trust thy cause to the arm of Fortitude,
    The light of Knowledge, and the warmth of Love.



Composed 1837.--Published 1842

    Hard task! exclaim the undisciplined, to lean
    On Patience coupled with such slow endeavour,
    That long-lived servitude must last for ever.
    Perish the grovelling few, who, prest between
    Wrongs and the terror of redress, would wean                       5
    Millions from glorious aims. Our chains to sever
    Let us break forth in tempest now or never!--
    What, is there then no space for golden mean
    And gradual progress?--Twilight leads to day,
    And, even within the burning zones of earth,                      10
    The hastiest sunrise yields a temperate ray;
    The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth:
    Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes,
    She scans the future with the eye of gods.



Composed 1837.--Published 1842

    As leaves are to the tree whereon they grow
    And wither, every human generation
    Is to the Being of a mighty nation,
    Locked in our world’s embrace through weal and woe;
    Thought that should teach the zealot to forego                     5
    Rash schemes, to abjure all selfish agitation,
    And seek through noiseless pains and moderation
    The unblemished good they only can bestow.
    Alas! with most, who weigh futurity
    Against time present, passion holds the scales:                   10
    Hence equal ignorance of both prevails,
    And nations sink; or, struggling to be free,
    Are doomed to flounder on, like wounded whales
    Tossed on the bosom of a stormy sea.

[161] This date was omitted in the edition of 1842.

[162] The three sonnets, _At Bologna, in remembrance of the late
Insurrections_, 1837, are printed as a sequel to the Italian Tour of
that year.--ED.


Composed 1837.--Published 1837

One of the “Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty.”--ED.

    What if our numbers barely could defy
    The arithmetic of babes, must foreign hordes,
    Slaves, vile as ever were befooled by words,
    Striking through English breasts the anarchy
    Of Terror, bear us to the ground, and tie                          5
    Our hands behind our backs with felon cords?
    Yields every thing to discipline of swords?
    Is man as good as man, none low, none high?--
    Nor discipline nor valour can withstand
    The shock, nor quell[163] the inevitable rout,                    10
    When in some great extremity breaks out
    A people, on their own beloved Land
    Risen, like one man, to combat in the sight
    Of a just God for liberty and right.

[163] 1837.

    … nor stem …



Composed 1837.--Published 1837

[These verses were thrown off extempore upon leaving Mrs. Luff’s
house at Fox Ghyll one evening. The good woman is not disposed to
look at the bright side of things, and there happened to be present
certain ladies who had reached the point of life where _youth_ is
ended, and who seemed to contend with each other in expressing their
dislike of the country and climate. One of them had been heard to say
she could not endure a country where there was “neither sunshine nor

This poem was first published in _The Tribute, a Collection of
Miscellaneous unpublished Poems by various Authors, edited by Lord
Northampton_, in 1837, “for the benefit of the widow and family of the
Rev. Edward Smedley.” (The same volume contained a poem by Southey on
Brough Bells.) It next found a place in “Poems chiefly of Early and
Late Years” (1842). A stanza given in _The Tribute_, No. 2 (see below),
was omitted afterwards.--ED.

    Lo! where the Moon along the sky
    Sails with her happy destiny;[164]
    Oft is she hid from mortal eye
          Or dimly seen,
    But when the clouds asunder fly                                    5
          How bright her mien![165]

    Far different we--a froward race,[166]
    Thousands though rich in Fortune’s grace
    With cherished sullenness of pace
          Their way pursue,                                           10
    Ingrates who wear a smileless face
          The whole year through.

    If kindred humours e’er would make[167]
    My spirit droop for drooping’s sake,
    From Fancy following in thy wake,                                 15
          Bright ship of heaven!
    A counter impulse let me take
          And be forgiven.[168]

[164] 1842.

    The moon that sails along the sky
    Moves with a happy destiny,


[165] 1837.

    Not flagging when the winds all sleep,
    Not hurried onward, when they sweep
    The bosom of th’ ethereal deep,
        Not turned aside,
    She knows an even course to keep,
        Whate’er betide.

    In the text of 1837 only.

[166] 1842.

    Perverse are we--a froward race;


[167] 1842.

    If kindred humour e’er should make


[168] Compare the poem _To the Daisy_ (1802), beginning--

    Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere.



Published 1842

[The facts recorded in this Poem were given me, and the character of
the person described, by my friend the Rev. R. P. Graves,[169] who
has long officiated as curate at Bowness, to the great benefit of the
parish and neighbourhood. The individual was well known to him. She
died before these verses were composed. It is scarcely worth while
to notice that the stanzas are written in the sonnet form, which was
adopted when I thought the matter might be included in twenty-eight

One of the “Poems founded on the Affections.”--ED.


    How beautiful when up a lofty height
    Honour ascends among the humblest poor,
    And feeling sinks as deep! See there the door
    Of One, a Widow, left beneath a weight
    Of blameless debt. On evil Fortune’s spite                         5
    She wasted no complaint, but strove to make
    A just repayment, both for conscience-sake
    And that herself and hers should stand upright
    In the world’s eye. Her work when daylight failed
    Paused not, and through the depth of night she kept               10
    Such earnest vigils, that belief prevailed
    With some, the noble Creature never slept;
    But, one by one, the hand of death assailed
    Her children from her inmost heart bewept.


    The Mother mourned, nor ceased her tears to flow,                 15
    Till a winter’s noon-day placed her buried Son
    Before her eyes, last child of many gone--
    His raiment of angelic white, and lo!
    His very feet bright as the dazzling snow
    Which they are touching; yea far brighter, even                   20
    As that which comes, or seems to come, from heaven,
    Surpasses aught these elements can show.
    Much she rejoiced, trusting that from that hour
    Whate’er befel she could not grieve or pine;
    But the Transfigured, in and out of season,                       25
    Appeared, and spiritual presence gained a power
    Over material forms that mastered reason.
    Oh, gracious Heaven, in pity make her thine!


    But why that prayer? as if to her could come
    No good but by the way that leads to bliss                        30
    Through Death,--so judging we should judge amiss.
    Since reason failed want is her threatened doom,
    Yet frequent transports mitigate the gloom:
    Nor of those maniacs is she one that kiss
    The air or laugh upon a precipice;                                35
    No, passing through strange sufferings toward the tomb,
    She smiles as if a martyr’s crown were won:
    Oft, when light breaks through clouds or waving trees,
    With outspread arms and fallen upon her knees
    The Mother hails in her descending Son                            40
    An Angel, and in earthly ecstasies
    Her own angelic glory seems begun.

[169] The late Archdeacon of Dublin, author of _Life of Sir William
Rowan Hamilton_, etc. He gives the date of the composition of the poem
as 1837.--ED.


In 1838 Wordsworth wrote ten sonnets. These were published (along with
the one suggested by Mrs. Southey) for the first time in the volume of
collected Sonnets, several being inserted out of their intended place,
while the book was passing through the press.

The _Protest against the Ballot_, which appeared in 1838, was never



Composed 1838.--Published 1838[170]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    What strong allurement draws, what spirit guides,
    Thee, Vesper! brightening still, as if the nearer
    Thou com’st to man’s abode the spot grew dearer
    Night after night? True is it Nature hides
    Her treasures less and less.--Man now presides                     5
    In power, where once he trembled in his weakness;
    Science[171] advances with gigantic strides;
    But are we aught enriched in love and meekness?[172]
    Aught dost thou see, bright Star! of pure and wise
    More than in humbler times graced human story;                    10
    That makes our hearts more apt to sympathise
    With heaven, our souls more fit for future glory,
    When earth shall vanish from our closing eyes,
    Ere we lie down in our last dormitory?[173]

[170] It was afterwards printed in the _Saturday Magazine_, Oct. 24,

[171] 1845.



[172] Compare Tennyson’s _In Memoriam_, stanza cxx.--

    Let Science prove we are, and then
    What matters Science unto men, etc.


[173] Compare the poem in vol. vii. p. 299, _To the Planet Venus, an
Evening Star_.--ED.


Composed 1838.--Published 1838

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Hark! ’tis the Thrush, undaunted, undeprest,
    By twilight premature of cloud and rain;
    Nor does that roaring wind deaden his strain[174]
    Who carols thinking of his Love and nest,
    And seems, as more incited, still more blest.                      5
    Thanks; thou hast snapped a fire-side Prisoner’s chain,
    Exulting Warbler! eased a fretted brain,
    And in a moment charmed my cares to rest.
    Yes, I will forth, bold Bird! and front the blast,
    That we may sing together, if thou wilt,                          10
    So loud, so clear, my Partner through life’s day,
    Mute in her nest love-chosen, if not love-built
    Like thine, shall gladden, as in seasons past,
    Thrilled by loose snatches of the social Lay.


[174] 1838.

                      … undaunted, unopprest,
    Struggling with twilight premature and rain.
    Loud roars the wind, but smothers not his strain



Composed 1838.--Published 1838

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    ’Tis He whose yester-evening’s high disdain
    Beat back the roaring storm--but how subdued
    His day-break note, a sad vicissitude!
    Does the hour’s drowsy weight his glee restrain?
    Or, like the nightingale, her joyous vein                          5
    Pleased to renounce, does this dear Thrush attune
    His voice to suit the temper of yon Moon
    Doubly depressed, setting, and in her wane?
    Rise, tardy Sun! and let the Songster prove
    (The balance trembling between night and morn                     10
    No longer) with what ecstasy upborne
    He can pour forth his spirit. In heaven above,
    And earth below, they best can serve true gladness
    Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.


Composed 1st May 1838.--Published 1838

[This and the following sonnet were composed on what we call the “Far
Terrace” at Rydal Mount, where I have murmured out many thousands of

This sonnet was first published in the Volume of Collected Sonnets
in 1838. In 1842 it was classed among the “Miscellaneous Sonnets”;
but in 1845 it was transferred to the “Memorials of a Tour in Italy,

    If with old love of you, dear Hills! I share
    New love of many a rival image brought
    From far, forgive the wanderings of my thought:
    Nor art thou wronged, sweet May! when I compare[176]
    Thy present birth-morn with thy last,[177][178] so fair,           5
    So rich to me in favours. For my lot
    Then was, within the famed Egerian Grot
    To sit and muse, fanned by its dewy air
    Mingling with thy soft breath! That morning too,
    Warblers I heard their joy unbosoming                             10
    Amid the sunny, shadowy, Coliseum;[179]
    Heard them, unchecked by aught of saddening hue,[180]
    For victories there won by flower-crowned Spring,[181]
    Chant in full choir their innocent Te Deum.

[175] 1845.

The title in 1838 was “COMPOSED ON MAY-MORNING, 1838”; and “RYDAL
MOUNT” was written at the foot of the sonnet.

[176] 1838.

    May, if from these thy northern haunts I share
    Fond looks of mind for images remote
    Fetched out of milder climates, blame me not,
    Nor that, upris’n thus early, I compare


    Let those who will or can, dear May, forbear
    To rise and hail thy coming, I could not.
    The vivid images of scenes remote
    Rushing on memory urge me to compare


    Dear native Hills, the love of you I share
    With …


    Dear fields and native mountains, if I share
    My love of youth with love of objects brought
    {From far, by faithful memory, blame me not. }
    {Fetched from a milder climate, blame me not.}
    {From a distant land by memory, blame me not.}
    {Nor that, upris’n thus early,   }
    {Nor be displeased, sweet May, if} I compare
    {Thy } present …


[177] 1838.

    … past,


[178] On May morning, 1837, Wordsworth was in Rome with Henry Crabb

[179] The Flavian Amphitheatre, begun by Vespasian, A.D. 72, and
continued by his son Titus, one of the noblest structures in Rome, now
a ruin. --ED.

[180] 1845.

    … of sombre hue,


    … by thoughts of sombre hue,


[181] 1838.

                                    … too,
    How my heart swelled when in the mighty ring,
    The mouldering, shadowy, sunny Collosseum,
    I heard with some sad thoughts of local hue
    Warblers there lodged, for victories won by spring


                                    … too,
    Here did I a deathless joy embosoming,
    {Mid   } the shadowy Collosseum,
    Hear not without sad thoughts of local hue


                                    … too,
    Heard I, a deathless joy embosoming,
    Tho’ not without sad thoughts of local hue,
    Amid the shadowy, sunny, Collosseum,
    Warblers there lodged, for victories won by Spring



Composed 1838.--Published 1838[183]

This was one of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Life with yon Lambs, like day, is just begun,
    Yet Nature seems to them a heavenly guide.[184]
    Does joy approach? they meet the coming tide;
    And sullenness avoid, as now they shun[185]
    Pale twilight’s lingering glooms,--and in the sun                  5
    Couch near their dams, with quiet satisfied;[186]
    Or gambol--each with his shadow at his side,[187]
    Varying its shape wherever he may run.
    As they from turf yet hoar with sleepy dew
    All turn, and court the shining and the green,                    10
    Where herbs look up, and opening flowers are seen;
    Why to God’s goodness cannot We be true,
    And so, His[188] gifts and promises between,
    Feed to the last on pleasures ever new?

[182] 1845.

The title, in 1838, was “COMPOSED ON THE SAME MORNING”; referring to
the previous sonnet in that edition, beginning--

    If with old love of you, dear Hills! I share.

[183] There were so many tentative efforts in the construction of this
sonnet, and the one which follows it, that I feel justified in printing
them from MS. sources.--ED.

[184] 1838.

    Life with yon mountain lambs is just begun,


    Yon mountain Lambs whose life is just begun
    Some guidance know to Man’s grave years denied.


    Your lives, ye mountain lambs, tho’ just begun
    A guidance know to our best years denied.

    MS. sent to Mr. Clarkson.

[185] 1838.

    O that by Nature we were prompt the tide
    Of joy to meet, as {they} are who {now } shun
                       {ye  }         {there}

    MS. sent to Mr. Clarkson.

[186] 1838.

    The lingering glooms of twilight, in the sun
    To couch, with sober quiet satisfied.

    MS. sent to Mr. Clarkson.

                                … shun
    Hollows unbrightened by the {rising} sun
    On slopes to couch with quiet satisfied.


    To couch on slopes where he his beams has tried,
    Sporting and running wheresoe’er ye run.


[187] 1838.

    Couch near their dams; or frisk in sportive pride
    Each with his playful shadow at his side,


[188] 1838.

    As they from turf hoary with unsunned dew
    Turn and do one and all prefer the green
    To chilly nooks, knolls cheered with glistening sheen,
    Why may not we a kindred course pursue
    And so, God’s …


                                … shun
    Hollows {enlivened   } by the rising sun
    On slopes to couch with quiet satisfied,
    Or gambol each, his shadow at his side,
    Running in sport wherever he may run.
    As from dull turf hoary with unsunned dew
    They turn, and one and all prefer the green
    To chilly nooks, knolls {warmed} with glistening sheen,
    Why may not we a kindred course pursue
    And so, Heaven’s …


                                … shun
    The lingering gloom of twilight in the sun,
    To couch with sober quiet satisfied,
    Or gambol each, his shadow at his side,
    Varying its shape wherever he may run.


    As they from turf with thick and sleepy dew
    {{Yet} whitened o’er, turn and}
    {{All}                       } prefer the green
    {Turn, and do one and all    }
    To chilly nooks, {slopes} warm with glistening sheen,
    Why may not we thro’ life such course pursue
    And so, God’s …


    As they from turf with thick and sleepy dew
    Yet whitened o’er, turn and prefer the green;
    To chilly nooks, slopes warm with glistering sheen,
    Why may not we such course through life pursue,
    And so, God’s gifts and promises between,
    Feed …



    Failing impartial measure to dispense
    To every suitor, Equity is lame;
    And social Justice, stript of reverence
    For natural rights, a mockery and a shame;
    Law but a servile dupe of false pretence,                          5
    If, guarding grossest things from common claim
    Now and for ever, She, to works that came[189]
    From mind and spirit, grudge a short-lived fence.
    “What! lengthened privilege, a lineal tie,
    For _Books_!” Yes, heartless Ones, or be it proved                10
    That ’tis a fault in Us to have lived and loved
    Like others, with like temporal hopes to die;
    No public harm that Genius from her course
    Be turned; and streams of truth dried up, even at their source![190]

[189] 1838.

    {If} failing one strict measure to dispense
    To all her suitors Equity is lame,
    And social justice by fit reverence
    Of natural right unswayed is but a name,


    {Law but} the servile dupe of false pretence,
    {And Law}


    {When} guarding grossest things from common claim
    Now, and for ever, She for work that came


                                  … lame,
    Justice unswayed, unmoved by reverence
    For natural right {what is she but a name?}
                      {is but an empty name, }


[190] 1838.

                            … from its course
    Be turned, and streams of truth dried at their source.


    From mind and spirit grudge a short-lived fence.
    But no--{our} sages join in banded force
    {That} books by right or wrong {may} glad the isle
    {With}                         {to}
    Say, {would} this serve the {future should our} course
         {can }                {people if the   }
    {Of pure domestic hopes be checked the while}
    {Of prejudice be less opposed the while    }
    {Should} toil-worn Genius want a cheering smile
    {If   }
    And streams of truth be dried up at their source?


    Out of the mind grudges a short-lived fence.
    {But no--the Sages join in banded force   }
    {And how preposterous Sages is your course}
    Who cry give books free passage thro’ the isle.
    {Say can this serve the people of our isle, }
    {By right or wrong, for better or for worse,}
    Friends to the people, what care ye the while
    Tho’ toil-worn genius want a cheering smile
    And far-fetched truth be dried up at her source?



Composed 1838.--Published 1838

One of the “Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order.”--ED.

    Blest Statesman He, whose Mind’s unselfish will
    Leaves him[191] at ease among grand thoughts: whose eye
    Sees that, apart from magnanimity,
    Wisdom exists not; nor the humbler skill
    Of Prudence, disentangling good and ill                            5
    With patient care. What tho’[192] assaults run high,
    They daunt not him who holds his ministry,
    Resolute, at all hazards, to fulfil
    Its[193] duties;--prompt to move, but firm to wait,--
    Knowing, things rashly sought are rarely found;                   10
    That, for[194] the functions of an ancient State--
    Strong by her charters, free because imbound,
    Servant of Providence, not slave of Fate--
    Perilous is sweeping change, all chance unsound.[195]

[191] 1842.

    … her

    C. and 1838.

[192] 1838.

    … if


[193] 1838.



[194] 1838.

    … in



    All change is perilous, and all chance unsound.

    SPENSER.--W.W. 1838.

The passage will be found in _The Faërie Queene_, book v. canto xii.
stanza 36.--ED.


Composed 1838.--Published 1838

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Serving no haughty Muse, my hands have here
    Disposed some cultured Flowerets (drawn from spots
    Where they bloomed singly, or in scattered knots),
    Each kind in several beds of one parterre;
    Both to allure the casual Loiterer,                                5
    And that, so placed, my Nurslings may requite
    Studious regard with opportune delight,
    Nor be unthanked, unless I fondly err.
    But metaphor dismissed, and thanks apart,
    Reader, farewell! My last words let them be--                     10
    If in this book Fancy and Truth agree;
    If simple Nature trained by careful Art
    Through It have won a passage to thy heart;
    Grant me thy love, I crave no other fee!

[196] This closed the volume of sonnets published in 1838.--ED.


The fourteen “Sonnets upon the Punishment of Death” were originally
published in the _Quarterly Review_ (in December 1841), in an article
on the “Sonnets of William Wordsworth” by the late Sir Henry Taylor,
author of _Philip van Artevelde_, and other poems. Towards the close of
this article (of 1841), after reviewing the volume of Sonnets published
in 1838, Sir Henry adds, “There is a short series _written two years
ago_, which we have been favoured with permission to present to the
public for the first time. It was suggested by the recent discussions
in Parliament, and elsewhere, on the subject of the ‘Punishment of

When republishing this and other critical Essays on Poetry, in
the collected edition of his works in 1878, Sir Henry omitted the
paragraphs relating to these particular sonnets. Wordsworth published
the sonnets in his volume of “Poems chiefly of Early and Late Years,”
in 1842.--ED.



Composed 1839.--Published 1841

“In the session of 1836, a report by the Commissioners on Criminal
Law--of which the second part was on this subject (the Punishment of
Death)--was laid before Parliament. In the ensuing session this was
followed by papers presented to Parliament by her Majesty’s command,
and consisting of a correspondence between the Commissioners, Lord
John Russell, and Lord Denman. Upon the foundation afforded by these
documents, the bills of the 17th July 1837--(7th Gul. IV. and 1st
Vict. cap. 84 to 89 and 91)--were brought in and passed. These acts
removed the punishment of death from about 200 offences, and left it
applicable to high treason,--murder and attempts at murder--rape--arson
with danger to life--and to piracies, burglaries, and robberies, when
aggravated by cruelty and violence.” (Sir Henry Taylor, _Quarterly
Review_, Dec. 1841, p. 39.) Some members of the House of Commons--Mr.
Fitzroy Kelly, Mr. Ewart, and others--desired a further limitation
of the punishment of death to the crimes of murder and treason only:
and the question of the entire abolition of capital punishment being
virtually before the country, Wordsworth dealt with it in the following
series of sonnets.--ED.



    This Spot--at once unfolding sight so fair
    Of sea and land, with yon grey towers that still
    Rise up as if to lord it over air--
    Might soothe in human breasts the sense of ill,
    Or charm it out of memory; yea, might fill                         5
    The heart with joy and gratitude to God
    For all his bounties upon man bestowed:
    Why bears it then the name of “Weeping Hill”?[197]
    Thousands, as toward yon old Lancastrian Towers,
    A prison’s crown, along this way they past                        10
    For lingering durance or quick death with shame,
    From this bare eminence thereon have cast
    Their first look--blinded as tears fell in showers
    Shed on their chains; and hence that doleful name.

[197] The name given to the spot from which criminals on their way to
the Castle of Lancaster first see it.--ED.



    Tenderly do we feel by Nature’s law
    For worst offenders: though the heart will heave
    With indignation, deeply moved we grieve,
    In after thought, for Him who stood in awe
    Neither of God nor man, and only saw,                              5
    Lost wretch, a horrible device enthroned
    On proud temptations, till the victim groaned
    Under the steel his hand had dared to draw.
    But O, restrain compassion, if its course,
    As oft befalls, prevent or turn aside                             10
    Judgments and aims and acts whose higher source
    Is sympathy with the unforewarned, who died[199]
    Blameless--with them that shuddered o’er his grave,
    And all who from the law firm safety crave.

[198] “The first sonnet prepares the reader to sympathise with the
sufferings of the culprits. The next cautions him as to the limits
within which his sympathies are to be restrained.” (Sir Henry

[199] 1842.

    … that died




    The Roman Consul doomed his sons to die
    Who had betrayed their country.[201] The stern word
    Afforded (may it through all time afford)
    A theme for praise and admiration high.
    Upon the surface of humanity                                       5
    He rested not; its depths his mind explored;
    He felt; but his parental bosom’s lord
    Was Duty,--Duty calmed his agony.
    And some, we know, when they by wilful act
    A single human life have wrongly taken,                           10
    Pass sentence on themselves, confess the fact,
    And, to atone for it, with soul unshaken
    Kneel at the feet of Justice, and, for faith
    Broken with all mankind, solicit death.

[200] “In the third and fourth sonnets the reader is prepared to
regard as low and effeminate the views which would estimate life and
death as the most important of all sublunary conditions.” (Sir Henry

[201] Lucius Junius Brutus, who condemned his sons to die for the part
they took in the conspiracy to restore the Tarquins. (See Livy, book



    Is _Death_, when evil against good has fought
    With such fell mastery that a man may dare
    By deeds the blackest purpose to lay bare?
    Is Death, for one to that condition brought,
    For him, or any one, the thing that ought                          5
    To be _most_ dreaded? Lawgivers, beware,
    Lest, capital pains remitting till ye spare
    The murderer, ye, by sanction to that thought
    Seemingly given, debase the general mind;
    Tempt the vague will tried standards to disown,                   10
    Nor only palpable restraints unbind,
    But upon Honour’s head disturb the crown,
    Whose absolute rule permits not to withstand
    In the weak love of life his least command.



    Not to the object specially designed,
    Howe’er momentous in itself it be,
    Good to promote or curb depravity,
    Is the wise Legislator’s view confined.
    His Spirit, when most severe, is oft most kind;                    5
    As all Authority in earth depends
    On Love and Fear, their several powers he blends,
    Copying with awe the one Paternal mind.
    Uncaught by processes in show humane,
    He feels how far the act would derogate                           10
    From even the humblest functions of the State;
    If she, self-shorn of Majesty, ordain
    That never more shall hang upon her breath
    The last alternative of Life or Death.



    Ye brood of conscience--Spectres! that frequent
    The bad man’s restless walk, and haunt his bed--
    Fiends in your aspect, yet beneficent
    In act, as hovering Angels when they spread
    Their wings to guard the unconscious Innocent--                    5
    Slow be the Statutes of the land to share
    A laxity that could not but impair
    _Your_ power to punish crime, and so prevent.
    And ye, Beliefs! coiled serpent-like about
    The adage on all tongues, “Murder will out,”[203]                 10
    How shall your ancient warnings work for good
    In the full might they hitherto have shown,
    If for deliberate shedder of man’s blood
    Survive not Judgment that requires his own?

[202] “The sixth sonnet adverts to the effect of the law in preventing
the crime of murder, not merely by fear, but by horror, by investing
the crime itself with the colouring of dark and terrible imaginations.”
(Sir Henry Taylor.)--ED.

[203] See Chaucer, _The Nonnes Priestes Tale_, l. 232.--ED.



    Before the world had past her time of youth
    While polity and discipline were weak,
    The precept eye for eye, and tooth for tooth,
    Came forth--a light, though but as of day-break,
    Strong as could then be borne. A Master meek                       5
    Proscribed the spirit fostered by that rule,
    Patience _his_ law, long-suffering _his_ school,
    And love the end, which all through peace must seek.
    But lamentably do they err who strain
    His mandates, given rash impulse to controul                      10
    And keep vindictive thirstings from the soul,
    So far that, if consistent in their scheme,
    They must forbid the State to inflict a pain,
    Making of social order a mere dream.



    Fit retribution, by the moral code
    Determined, lies beyond the State’s embrace,
    Yet, as she may, for each peculiar case
    She plants well-measured terrors in the road
    Of wrongful acts. Downward it is and broad,                        5
    And, the main fear once doomed to banishment,
    Far oftener then, bad ushering worse event,
    Blood would be spilt that in his dark abode
    Crime might lie better hid. And, should the change
    Take from the horror due to a foul deed,                          10
    Pursuit and evidence so far must fail,
    And, guilt escaping, passion then might plead
    In angry spirits for her old free range,
    And the “wild justice of revenge”[205] prevail.

[204] “In the eighth sonnet the doctrine, which would strive to measure
out the punishments awarded by the law in proportion to the degrees of
moral turpitude, is disavowed.” (Sir Henry Taylor.)--ED.

[205] See Bacon’s Essay _Of Revenge_, beginning, “Revenge is a sort of
wild justice.”--ED.



    Though to give timely warning and deter
    Is one great aim of penalty, extend
    Thy mental vision further and ascend
    Far higher, else full surely shalt thou err.[206]
    What is a State? The wise behold in her                            5
    A creature born of time, that keeps one eye
    Fixed on the statutes of Eternity,
    To which her judgments reverently defer.
    Speaking through Law’s dispassionate voice the State
    Endues her conscience with external life                          10
    And being, to preclude or quell the strife
    Of individual will, to elevate
    The grovelling mind, the erring to recal,
    And fortify the moral sense of all.

[206] 1845.

    … thou shalt err.




    Our bodily life, some plead, that life the shrine
    Of an immortal spirit, is a gift
    So sacred, so informed with light divine,
    That no tribunal, though most wise to sift
    Deed and intent, should turn the Being adrift                      5
    Into that world where penitential tear
    May not avail, nor prayer have for God’s ear
    A voice--that world whose veil no hand can lift
    For earthly sight. “Eternity and Time”
    _They_ urge, “have interwoven claims and rights                   10
    Not to be jeopardised through foulest crime:
    The sentence rule by mercy’s heaven-born lights.”
    Even so; but measuring not by finite sense
    Infinite Power, perfect Intelligence.



    Ah, think how one compelled for life to abide
    Locked in a dungeon needs must eat the heart
    Out of his own humanity, and part
    With every hope that mutual cares provide;
    And, should a less unnatural doom confide                          5
    In life-long exile on a savage coast,
    Soon the relapsing penitent may boast
    Of yet more heinous guilt, with fiercer pride.
    Hence thoughtful Mercy, Mercy sage and pure,
    Sanctions the forfeiture that Law demands,                        10
    Leaving the final issue in _His_ hands
    Whose goodness knows no change, whose love is sure,
    Who sees, foresees; who cannot judge amiss,
    And wafts at will the contrite soul to bliss.

[207] “In the eleventh and twelfth sonnets the alternatives of
secondary punishment,--solitary imprisonment, and transportation,--are
adverted to.” (Sir Henry Taylor.)--ED.



    See the Condemned alone within his cell
    And prostrate at some moment when remorse
    Stings to the quick, and, with resistless force,
    Assaults the pride she strove in vain to quell.
    Then mark him, him who could so long rebel,                        5
    The crime confessed, a kneeling Penitent
    Before the Altar, where the Sacrament
    Softens his heart, till from his eyes outwell
    Tears of salvation. Welcome death! while Heaven
    Does in this change exceedingly rejoice;                          10
    While yet the solemn heed the State hath given
    Helps him to meet the last Tribunal’s voice
    In faith, which fresh offences, were he cast
    On old temptations, might for ever blast.



    Yes, though He well may tremble at the sound
    Of his own voice, who from the judgment-seat
    Sends the pale Convict to his last retreat
    In death; though Listeners shudder all around,
    They know the dread requital’s source profound;                    5
    Nor is, they feel, its wisdom obsolete--
    (Would that it were!) the sacrifice unmeet
    For Christian Faith. But hopeful signs abound;
    The social rights of man breathe purer air;
    Religion deepens her preventive care;                             10
    Then, moved by needless fear of past abuse,
    Strike not from Law’s firm hand that awful rod,
    But leave it thence to drop for lack of use:
    Oh, speed the blessed hour, Almighty God!

[208] “In the thirteenth sonnet he anticipates that a time may come
when the punishment of death will be needed no longer; but he wishes
that the disuse of it should grow out of the absence of the need, not
be imposed by legislation.” (Sir Henry Taylor.)--ED.



    The formal World relaxes her cold chain
    For One who speaks in numbers; ampler scope
    His utterance finds; and, conscious of the gain,
    Imagination works with bolder hope
    The cause of grateful reason to sustain;                           5
    And, serving Truth, the heart more strongly beats
    Against all barriers which his labour meets
    In lofty place, or humble Life’s domain.
    Enough;--before us lay a painful road,
    And guidance have I sought in duteous love                        10
    From Wisdom’s heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed
    Patience, with trust that, whatsoe’er the way
    Each takes in this high matter, all may move
    Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.


[209] In the editions of 1842, 1845, and 1850 the date “1840” follows
this poem. It may have been written in that year.--ED.


Published 1842

One of the “Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order.”--ED.

    Men of the Western World! in Fate’s dark book
    Whence these opprobrious leaves of dire portent?
    Think ye your British Ancestors forsook
    Their native Land, for outrage provident;
    From unsubmissive necks the bridle shook                           5
    To give, in their Descendants, freer vent
    And wider range to passions turbulent,
    To mutual tyranny a deadlier look?
    Nay, said a voice, soft as the south wind’s breath,
    Dive through the stormy surface of the flood                      10
    To the great current flowing underneath;
    Explore the countless springs of silent good;
    So shall the truth be better understood,
    And thy grieved Spirit brighten strong in faith.[210]

[210] These lines were written several years ago, when reports
prevailed of cruelties committed in many parts of America, by men
making a law of their own passions. A far more formidable, as being a
more deliberate mischief, has appeared among those States, which have
lately broken faith with the public creditor in a manner so infamous.
I cannot, however, but look at both evils under a similar relation to
inherent good, and hope that the time is not distant when our brethren
of the West will wipe off this stain from their name and nation.


I am happy to add that this anticipation is already partly realised;
and that the reproach addressed to the Pennsylvanians is no longer
applicable to them. I trust that those other states to which it may yet
apply will soon follow the example now set them by Philadelphia, and
redeem their credit with the world.--W.W. 1850.

“This editorial note is on a fly-leaf at the end of the fifth volume of
the edition, which was completed only a short time before the Poet’s
death. It contains probably the last sentences composed by him for the
press. It was promptly added by him in consequence of a suggestion
from me, that the sonnet addressed “_To Pennsylvanians_” was no longer
just--a fact which is mentioned to shew that the fine sense of truth
and justice which distinguish his writings was active to the last.”
(Note to Professor Reed’s American Edition of 1851.)--ED.


Only four poems, viz. _Poor Robin_, two sonnets referring to Miss
Gillies, and one on Haydon’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington, belong
to 1840.--ED.


Composed 1840.--Published 1842

[The picture which gave occasion to this and the following sonnet was
from the pencil of Miss M. Gillies, who resided for several weeks under
our roof at Rydal Mount.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    All praise the Likeness by thy skill portrayed;[211]
    But ’tis a fruitless task to paint for me,
    Who, yielding not to changes Time has made,
    By the habitual light of memory see
    Eyes unbedimmed, see bloom that cannot fade,                       5
    And smiles that from their birth-place ne’er shall flee
    Into the land where ghosts and phantoms be;
    And, seeing this, own nothing in its stead.
    Couldst thou go back into far-distant years,
    Or share with me, fond thought! that inward eye,[212]             10
    Then, and then only, Painter! could thy Art
    The visual powers of Nature satisfy,
    Which hold, whate’er to common sight appears,
    Their sovereign empire in a faithful heart.

[211] Miss Gillies told me that she visited Rydal Mount in 1841, at the
invitation of the Wordsworths, to make a miniature portrait of the poet
on ivory, which had been commissioned by Mr. Moon, the publisher, for
the purpose of engraving. An engraving of this portrait was published
on the 6th of August 1841. The original is now in America. I think she
must have been wrong in her memory of the year, which was 1840. Miss
Gillies also told me that the Wordsworths were so pleased with what she
had done for Mr. Moon that they wished a replica for themselves, with
Mrs. Wordsworth added. She painted this; and a copy of it, subsequently
taken for Miss Quillinan, was long in her possession at Loughrigg
Holme. It now belongs to Mr. Gordon Wordsworth. It is to the portrait
of Mrs. Wordsworth that this sonnet and the next refer.--ED.

[212] Compare the lines in vol. iii. p. 5--

    They flash upon that inward eye
    Which is the bliss of solitude.

The fact that these two lines had been added by Mrs. Wordsworth (see
note to the poem, p. 7) was doubtless remembered by the poet, when he
wrote this sonnet suggested by her portrait.--ED.


Composed 1840.--Published 1842

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Though I beheld at first with blank surprise
    This Work, I now have gazed on it so long
    I see its truth with unreluctant eyes;
    O, my Belovèd! I have done thee wrong,
    Conscious of blessedness, but, whence it sprung,                   5
    Ever too heedless, as I now perceive:
    Morn into noon did pass, noon into eve,
    And the old day was welcome as the young,
    As welcome, and as beautiful--in sooth
    More beautiful, as being a thing more holy:                       10
    Thanks to thy virtues, to the eternal youth
    Of all thy goodness, never melancholy;
    To thy large heart and humble mind, that cast
    Into one vision, future, present, past.[213]

[213] Compare--

    O dearer far than light and life are dear (1824).
    Let other bards of angels sing (1824).
    Such age how beautiful! O Lady bright (1827).
    What heavenly smiles! O Lady mine (1845).



Composed March 1840.--Published 1842

[I often ask myself what will become of Rydal Mount after our day.
Will the old walls and steps remain in front of the house and about
the grounds, or will they be swept away with all the beautiful mosses
and ferns and wild geraniums and other flowers which their rude
construction suffered and encouraged to grow among them?[215]--This
little wild flower--“Poor Robin”--is here constantly courting my
attention, and exciting what may be called a domestic interest with the
varying aspects of its stalks and leaves and flowers.[216] Strangely do
the tastes of men differ according to their employment and habits of
life. “What a nice well would that be,” said a labouring man to me one
day, “if all that rubbish was cleared off.” The “_rubbish_” was some of
the most beautiful mosses and lichens and ferns and other wild growths
that could possibly be seen. Defend us from the tyranny of trimness and
neatness showing itself in this way! Chatterton says of freedom--“Upon
her head wild weeds were spread,” and depend upon it if “the marvellous
boy” had undertaken to give Flora a garland, he would have preferred
what we are apt to call weeds to garden flowers. True taste has an eye
for both. Weeds have been called flowers out of place. I fear the place
most people would assign to them is too limited. Let them come near to
our abodes, as surely they may, without impropriety or disorder.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

    Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
    And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
    And humbler growths as moved with one desire
    Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire,
    Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay                          5
    With his red stalks upon this sunny day!
    And, as his tufts[217] of leaves he spreads, content
    With a hard bed and scanty nourishment,
    Mixed with the green, some shine not lacking power
    To rival summer’s brightest scarlet flower;                       10
    And flowers they well might seem to passers-by
    If looked at only with a careless eye;
    Flowers--or a richer produce (did it suit
    The season) sprinklings of ripe strawberry fruit.
    But while a thousand pleasures come unsought,                     15
    Why fix upon his wealth or want[218] a thought?
    Is the string touched in prelude to a lay
    Of pretty fancies that would round him play
    When all the world acknowledged elfin sway?
    Or does it suit our humour to commend                             20
    Poor Robin as a sure and crafty friend,
    Whose practice teaches, spite of names to show
    Bright colours whether they deceive or no?--
    Nay, we would simply praise the free good-will
    With which, though slighted, he, on naked hill                    25
    Or in warm valley, seeks his part to fill;
    Cheerful alike if bare of flowers as now,
    Or when his tiny gems shall deck his brow:
    Yet more, we wish that men by men despised,
    And such as lift their foreheads overprized,                      30
    Should sometimes think, where’er they chance to spy
    This child of Nature’s own humility,
    What recompense is kept in store or left
    For all that seem neglected or bereft;
    With what nice care equivalents are given,                        35
    How just, how bountiful, the hand of Heaven.

    _March, 1840._

[214] The small wild Geranium known by that name.--W.W. 1842.

[215] These things remain comparatively unaltered. Rydal Mount has
suffered little in picturesqueness since Wordsworth’s death; while the
house, and the grounds, have gained in many ways by what the present
tenant has done for them. It is impossible to keep such a place exactly
as it was left by its greatest tenant; and Mr. Crewdson has certainly
not injured, but wisely improved the place.--ED.

[216] Compare what is said of it in the _Memoirs of Wordsworth_, by his
nephew, vol. i. p. 20.--ED.

[217] 1849.

    … tuft


[218] 1845.

    … want or wealth



Composed August 31, 1840.--Published 1842

[This was composed while I was ascending Helvellyn in company with my
daughter and her husband. She was on horseback, and rode to the top
of the hill without once dismounting, a feat which it was scarcely
possible to perform except during a season of dry weather; and a guide,
with whom we fell in on the mountain, told us he believed it had never
been accomplished before by any one.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets”; but first published in the “Poems
chiefly of Early and Late Years.”--ED.

    By Art’s bold privilege Warrior and War-horse stand
    On ground yet strewn with their last battle’s wreck;
    Let the Steed glory while his Master’s hand
    Lies fixed for ages on his conscious neck;
    But by the Chieftain’s look, though at his side                    5
    Hangs that day’s treasured sword, how firm a check
    Is given to triumph and all human pride!
    Yon trophied Mound shrinks to a shadowy speck
    In his calm presence! Him the mighty deed
    Elates not, brought far nearer the grave’s rest,                  10
    As shows that time-worn face, for he such seed
    Has sown as yields, we trust, the fruit of fame
    In Heaven;[220] hence no one blushes for thy name,
    Conqueror, ’mid some sad thoughts, divinely blest!

[219] Haydon worked at this picture of Wellington from June to
November, 1839. (See his Autobiography, vol. iii. pp. 108-131.) He
writes under date, Sept. 4, 1840:--“Hard at work. I heard from dear
Wordsworth, with a glorious sonnet on the Duke, and Copenhagen.† It is
very fine, and I began a new journal directly, and put in the sonnet.
God bless him.” The following is part of Wordsworth’s letter:--

“MY DEAR HAYDON,--We are all charmed with your etching. It is both
poetically and pictorially conceived, and finely executed. I should
have written immediately to thank you for it, and for your letter
and the enclosed one, which is interesting, but I wished to gratify
you by writing a sonnet. I now send it, but with an earnest request
that it may not be put into circulation for some little time, as it
is warm from the brain, and may require, in consequence, some little
retouching. It has this, at least, remarkable attached to it, which
will add to its value in your eyes, that it was actually composed while
I was climbing Helvellyn last Monday.”--ED.

    † Wellington’s war-horse.--ED.

[220] 1842.

                            … Since the mighty deed
    Him years have brought far nearer the grave’s rest,
    He shows that face time-worn. But he such seed
    Has sowed that bears, we trust, the fruit of fame
    In Heaven.…

    From a copy sent to Haydon.




Composed 1841.--Published 1842

[OWEN LLOYD, the subject of this epitaph, was born at Old Brathay,
near Ambleside, and was the son of Charles Lloyd and his wife Sophia
(_née_ Pemberton), both of Birmingham, who came to reside in this part
of the country, soon after their marriage. They had many children,
both sons and daughters, of whom the most remarkable was the subject
of this epitaph. He was educated under Mr. Dawes, at Ambleside, Dr.
Butler, of Shrewsbury, and lastly at Trinity College, Cambridge, where
he would have been greatly distinguished as a scholar but for inherited
infirmities of bodily constitution, which, from early childhood,
affected his mind. His love for the neighbourhood in which he was
born, and his sympathy with the habits and characters of the mountain
yeomanry, in conjunction with irregular spirits, that unfitted him for
facing duties in situations to which he was unaccustomed, induced him
to accept the retired curacy of Langdale. How much he was beloved and
honoured there, and with what feelings he discharged his duty under the
oppression of severe malady, is set forth, though imperfectly, in the

One of the “Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces.”--ED.

    By playful smiles, (alas! too oft
    A sad heart’s sunshine) by a soft
    And gentle nature, and a free
    Yet modest hand of charity,
    Through life was OWEN LLOYD endeared                               5
    To young and old; and how revered
    Had been that pious spirit, a tide
    Of humble mourners testified,
    When, after pains dispensed to prove
    The measure of God’s chastening love,                             10
    Here, brought from far, his corse found rest,--
    Fulfilment of his own request;--
    Urged less for this Yew’s shade, though he
    Planted with such fond hope the tree;
    Less for the love of stream and rock,                             15
    Dear as they were, than that his Flock,
    When they no more their Pastor’s voice
    Could hear to guide them in their choice
    Through good and evil, help might have,
    Admonished, from his silent grave,                                20
    Of righteousness, of sins forgiven,
    For peace on earth and bliss in heaven.

This commemorative epitaph to the Rev. Owen Lloyd--the friend of
Hartley Coleridge and of Faber--is carved on the headstone over his
grave in the churchyard at the small hamlet of Chapel Stile, Great
Langdale, Westmoreland. The stone also carries the inscription, “To
the memory of Owen Lloyd, M.A., nearly twelve years incumbent of this
chapel. Born at Old Brathay, March 31, 1803, died at Manchester, April
18, 1841, aged 38.” See a letter of Wordsworth’s referring to Lloyd
amongst his letters in a subsequent volume. In a previous edition I
erred by giving this poem an earlier date. Professor Dowden has shown
the true one conclusively.

Writing from Rydal on 11th August 1841, to his brother Christopher,
Wordsworth said, “I send you with the last corrections an epitaph which
I have just written for poor Owen Lloyd. His brother Edward forwarded
for my perusal some verses which he had composed with a view to that
object; but he expressed a wish that I would compose something myself.
Not approving Edward’s lines altogether, though the sentiments were
sufficiently appropriate, I sent him what I now forward to you, or
rather the substance of it, for something has been added, and some
change of expression introduced. I hope you will approve of it. I find
no fault with it myself, the circumstances considered, except that it
is too long for an Epitaph, but this was inevitable if the memorial was
to be as conspicuous as the subject required, at least according to the
light in which it offered itself to my mind.”--ED.


The poems of 1842 include _The Floating Island_, _The Norman Boy_, _The
Poet’s Dream_, _Airey-Force Valley_, the lines _To the Clouds_, and a
number of miscellaneous sonnets.--ED.


Composed 8th March 1842.--Published 1842

[Suggested by a conversation with Miss Fenwick, who along with her
sister had, during their childhood, found much delight in such
gatherings for the purposes here alluded to.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Intent on gathering wool from hedge and brake
    Yon busy Little-ones rejoice that soon
    A poor old Dame will bless them for the boon:
    Great is their glee while flake they add to flake
    With rival earnestness; far other strife                           5
    Than will hereafter move them, if they make
    Pastime their idol, give their day of life
    To pleasure snatched for reckless pleasure’s sake.
    Can pomp and show allay one heart-born grief?
    Pains which the World inflicts can she requite?                   10
    Not for an interval however brief;
    The silent thoughts that search for stedfast light,
    Love from her depths,[221] and Duty in her might,
    And Faith--these only yield secure relief.

    _March 8th, 1842._

[221] 1845.

    Love from on high, …




Composed March 26, 1842.--Published 1842

[These verses were begun while I was on a visit to my son John at
Brigham, and were finished at Rydal. As the contents of the volume,
to which they are now prefixed, will be assigned to their respective
classes when my poems shall be collected in one volume, I should be at
a loss where with propriety to place this prelude, being too restricted
in its bearing to serve for a preface for the whole. The lines towards
the conclusion allude to the discontents then fomented through the
country by the agitators of the Anti-Corn-Law League: the particular
causes of such troubles are transitory, but disposition to excite and
liability to be excited are nevertheless permanent, and therefore
proper objects for the poet’s regard.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

    In desultory walk through orchard grounds,
    Or some deep chestnut grove, oft have I paused
    The while a Thrush, urged rather than restrained
    By gusts of vernal storm, attuned his song
    To his own genial instincts; and was heard                         5
    (Though not without some plaintive tones between)
    To utter, above showers of blossom swept
    From tossing boughs, the promise of a calm,
    Which the unsheltered traveller might receive
    With thankful spirit. The descant, and the wind                   10
    That seemed to play with it in love or scorn,
    Encouraged and endeared the strain of words
    That haply flowed from me, by fits of silence
    Impelled to livelier pace. But now, my Book!
    Charged with those lays, and others of like mood,                 15
    Or loftier pitch if higher rose the theme,
    Go, single--yet aspiring to be joined
    With thy Forerunners that through many a year
    Have faithfully prepared each other’s way--
    Go forth upon a mission best fulfilled                            20
    When and wherever, in this changeful world,
    Power hath been given to please for higher ends
    Than pleasure only; gladdening to prepare
    For wholesome sadness, troubling to refine,
    Calming to raise; and, by a sapient Art                           25
    Diffused through all the mysteries of our Being,
    Softening the toils and pains that have not ceased
    To cast their shadows on our mother Earth
    Since the primeval doom. Such is the grace
    Which, though unsued for, fails not to descend                    30
    With heavenly inspiration; such the aim
    That Reason dictates; and, as even the wish
    Has virtue in it, why should hope to me
    Be wanting that sometimes, where fancied ills
    Harass the mind and strip from off the bowers                     35
    Of private life their natural pleasantness,
    A Voice--devoted to the love whose seeds
    Are sown in every human breast, to beauty
    Lodged within compass of the humblest sight,
    To cheerful intercourse with wood and field,                      40
    And sympathy with man’s substantial griefs--
    Will not be heard in vain? And in those days
    When unforeseen distress spreads far and wide
    Among a People mournfully cast down,
    Or into anger roused by venal words                               45
    In recklessness flung out to overturn
    The judgment, and divert the general heart
    From mutual good--some strain of thine, my Book!
    Caught at propitious intervals, may win
    Listeners who not unwillingly admit                               50
    Kindly emotion tending to console
    And reconcile; and both with young and old
    Exalt the sense of thoughtful gratitude
    For benefits that still survive, by faith
    In progress, under laws divine, maintained.                       55

RYDAL MOUNT, _March 26, 1842_.


Published 1842

These lines are by the Author of the _Address to the Wind_, etc.,
published heretofore along with my Poems. Those to a Redbreast are by a
deceased female Relative.--W.W. 1842.

[My poor sister takes a pleasure in repeating these verses, which she
composed not long before the beginning of her sad illness.--I.F.]

One of the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

    Harmonious Powers with Nature work
    On sky, earth, river, lake, and sea;
    Sunshine and cloud, whirlwind and breeze,
    All in one duteous task agree.

    Once did I see a slip of earth                                     5
    (By throbbing waves long undermined)
    Loosed from its hold; how, no one knew,
    But all might see it float, obedient to the wind;

    Might see it, from the mossy shore
    Dissevered, float upon the Lake,                                  10
    Float with its crest of trees adorned
    On which the warbling birds their pastime take.

    Food, shelter, safety, there they find;
    There berries ripen, flowerets bloom;
    There insects live their lives, and die;                          15
    A peopled world it is; in size a tiny room.

    And thus through many seasons’ space
    This little Island may survive;
    But Nature, though we mark her not,
    Will take away, may cease to give.                                20

    Perchance when you are wandering forth
    Upon some vacant sunny day,
    Without an object, hope, or fear,
    Thither your eyes may turn--the Isle is passed away;

    Buried beneath the glittering Lake,                               25
    Its place no longer to be found;
    Yet the lost fragments shall remain
    To fertilize some other ground.

                                                   D. W.

There is one of these floating islands in Loch Lomond in Argyll,
another in Loch Dochart in Perthshire, and another in Loch Treig
in Inverness. Their origin is probably due to a mass of peat being
detached from the shore, and floated out into the lake. A mass of
vegetable matter, however, has sometimes risen from the bottom of the
water, and assumed for a time all the appearance of an island. This
has been probably due to an accumulation of gas, within or under the
detached portion, produced by the decay of vegetation in extremely hot

Southey, in an unpublished letter to Sir George Beaumont (10th July
1824), thus describes the Island at Derwentwater: “You will have seen
by the papers that the Floating Island has made its appearance. It
sank again last week, when some heavy rains had raised the lake four
feet. By good fortune Professor Sedgewick happened to be in Keswick,
and examined it in time. Where he probed it a thin layer of mud lies
upon a bed of peat, which is six feet thick, and this rests upon a
stratum of fine white clay,--the same I believe which Miss Barker
found in Borrowdale when building her unlucky house. Where the gas is
generated remains yet to be discovered, but when the peat is filled
with this gas, it separates from the clay and becomes buoyant. There
must have been a considerable convulsion when this took place, for a
rent was made in the bottom of the lake, several feet in depth, and
not less than fifty yards long, on each side of which the bottom rose
and floated. It was a pretty sight to see the small fry exploring this
new made strait and darting at the bubbles which rose as the Professor
was probing the bank. The discharge of air was considerable here, when
a pole was thrust down. But at some distance where the rent did not
extend, the bottom had been heaved up in a slight convexity, sloping
equally in an inclined plane all round: and there, when the pole was
introduced, a rush like a jet followed, as it was withdrawn. The thing
is the more curious, because as yet no example of it is known to have
been observed in any other place.”

Another of these detached islands used to float about in Esthwaite
Water, and was carried from side to side of the pool at the north end
of the lake--the same pool which the swans, described in _The Prelude_,
used to frequent. This island had a few bushes on it: but it became
stranded some time ago. One of the old natives of Hawkeshead described
the process of trying to float it off again, by tying ropes to the
bushes on its surface,--an experiment which was unsuccessful. Compare
the reference to the Floating or “Buoyant” Island of Derwentwater, and
to the “mossy islet” of Esthwaite, in Wordsworth’s _Guide through the
District of the Lakes_.--ED.


Published 1842

One of the “Evening Voluntaries.”--Ed.

    The Crescent-moon, the Star of Love,
      Glories of evening, as ye there are seen
      With but a span of sky between--
      Speak one of you, my doubts remove,
    Which is the attendant Page and which the Queen?


Published 1842

[I was impelled to write this Sonnet by the disgusting frequency with
which the word _artistical_, imported with other impertinences from the
Germans, is employed by writers of the present day: for artistical
let them substitute artificial, and the poetry written on this system,
both at home and abroad, will be for the most part much better

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    _A Poet!_--He hath put his heart to school,
    Nor dares to move unpropped upon the staff
    Which Art hath lodged within his hand--must laugh
    By precept only, and shed tears by rule.
    Thy Art be Nature; the live current quaff,                         5
    And let the groveller sip his stagnant pool,
    In fear that else, when Critics grave and cool
    Have killed him, Scorn should write his epitaph.[222]
    How does the Meadow-flower its bloom unfold?
    Because the lovely little flower is free                          10
    Down to its root, and, in that freedom, bold;
    And so the grandeur of the Forest-tree
    Comes not by casting in a formal mould,
    But from its _own_ divine vitality.

[222] Compare _A Poet’s Epitaph_ (vol. ii. p. 75).--ED.


Published 1842

[Hundreds of times have I seen, hanging about and above the vale
of Rydal, clouds that might have given birth to this sonnet, which
was thrown off on the impulse of the moment one evening when I was
returning from the favourite walk of ours, along the Rotha, under

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    The most alluring clouds that mount the sky
    Owe to a troubled element their forms,
    Their hues to sunset. If with raptured eye
    We watch their splendour, shall we covet storms,
    And wish the Lord of day his slow decline                          5
    Would hasten, that such pomp may float on high?
    Behold, already they forget to shine,
    Dissolve--and leave to him who gazed a sigh.
    Not loth to thank each moment for its boon
    Of pure delight, come whensoe’er[223] it may,                     10
    Peace let us seek,--to stedfast things attune
    Calm expectations, leaving to the gay
    And volatile their love of transient bowers,
    The house that cannot pass away be ours.[224]

[223] 1849

    … whencesoe’er …


[224] Compare _To the Clouds_, I. 94, p. 145.--ED.


Published 1842

[This Sonnet is recommended to the perusal of those who consider that
the evils under which we groan are to be removed or palliated by
measures ungoverned by moral and religious principles.--I.F.]

One of the “Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order.”--ED.

    Feel for the wrongs to universal ken
    Daily exposed, woe that unshrouded lies;
    And seek the Sufferer in his darkest den,
    Whether conducted to the spot by sighs
    And moanings, or he dwells (as if the wren                         5
    Taught him concealment) hidden from all eyes
    In silence and the awful modesties
    Of sorrow;--feel for all, as brother Men!
    Rest not in hope want’s icy chain to thaw
    By casual boons and formal charities;[225]                        10
    Learn to be just, just through impartial law;
    Far as ye may, erect and equalise;
    And, what ye cannot reach by statute, draw
    Each from his fountain of self-sacrifice!

[225] 1845.

                                    … Men!--
    Feel for the Poor,--but not to still your qualms
    By formal charity or dole of alms;
    Learn …



Published 1842

One of the “Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order.”--ED.

    Portentous change when History can appear
    As the cool Advocate of foul device;[226]
    Reckless audacity extol, and jeer
    At consciences perplexed with scruples nice!
    They who bewail not, must abhor, the sneer                         5
    Born of Conceit, Power’s blind Idolater;
    Or haply sprung from vaunting Cowardice
    Betrayed by mockery of holy fear.
    Hath it not long been said the wrath of Man
    Works not the righteousness of God? Oh bend,                      10
    Bend, ye Perverse! to judgments from on High,
    Laws that lay under Heaven’s perpetual ban
    All principles of action that transcend
    The sacred limits of humanity.

[226] Wordsworth wrote this sonnet against Carlyle’s _French
Revolution_ in particular. Carlyle knew it, and this may in
part--although only in part--account for Carlyle’s indifference to


Published 1842

One of the “Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order.”--ED.

    Who ponders National events shall find
    An awful balancing of loss and gain,
    Joy based on sorrow, good with ill combined,
    And proud deliverance issuing out of pain
    And direful throes; as if the All-ruling Mind,                     5
    With whose perfection it consists to ordain
    Volcanic burst, earthquake, and hurricane,
    Dealt in like sort with feeble human kind
    By laws immutable. But woe for him
    Who thus deceived shall lend an eager hand                        10
    To social havoc. Is not Conscience ours,
    And Truth, whose eye guilt only can make dim;
    And Will, whose office, by divine command,
    Is to control and check disordered Powers?


Published 1842

One of the “Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order.”--ED.

    Long-favoured England! be not thou misled
    By monstrous theories of alien growth,
    Lest alien frenzy seize thee, waxing wroth,
    Self-smitten till thy garments reek dyed red
    With thy own blood, which tears in torrents shed                   5
    Fail to wash out, tears flowing ere thy troth
    Be plighted, not to ease but sullen sloth,
    Or wan despair--the ghost of false hope fled
    Into a shameful grave. Among thy youth,
    My Country! if such warning be held dear,                         10
    Then shall a Veteran’s heart be thrilled with joy,
    One who would gather from eternal truth,
    For time and season, rules that work to cheer--
    Not scourge, to save the People--not destroy.


Published 1842

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Lo! where she stands fixed in a saint-like trance,
    One upward hand, as if she needed rest
    From rapture, lying softly on her breast!
    Nor wants her eyeball an ethereal glance;
    But not the less--nay more--that countenance,                      5
    While thus illumined, tells of painful strife
    For a sick heart made weary of this life
    By love, long crossed with adverse circumstance.
    --Would She were now as when she hoped to pass
    At God’s appointed hour to them who tread                         10
    Heaven’s sapphire pavement, yet breathed well content,
    Well pleased, her foot should print earth’s common grass,
    Lived thankful for day’s light, for daily bread,
    For health, and time in obvious duty spent.


Published 1842

[The subject of this poem was sent me by Mrs. Ogle, to whom I was
personally unknown, with a hope on her part that I might be induced
to relate the incident in verse; and I do not regret that I took the
trouble, for not improbably the fact is illustrative of the boy’s
early piety, and may concur with my other little pieces on children
to produce profitable reflection among my youthful readers. This is
said, however, with an absolute conviction that children will derive
most benefit from books which are not unworthy the perusal of persons
of any age. I protest with all my heart against those productions, so
abundant in the present day, in which the doings of children are dwelt
upon as if they were incapable of being interested in anything else. On
this subject I have dwelt at length in the poem on the growth of my own

One of the “Poems referring to the Period of Childhood.”--ED.

  High on a broad unfertile tract of forest-skirted Down,
  Nor kept by Nature for herself, nor made by man his own,
  From home and company remote and every playful joy,
  Served, tending a few sheep and goats, a ragged Norman boy.

  Him never saw I, nor the spot; but from an English Dame,             5
  Stranger to me and yet my friend, a simple notice came,
  With suit that I would speak in verse of that sequestered child
  Whom, one bleak winter’s day, she met upon the dreary Wild.

  His flock, along the woodland’s edge with relics sprinkled o’er
  Of last night’s snow, beneath a sky threatening the fall of more,   10
  Where tufts of herbage tempted each, were busy at their feed,
  And the poor Boy was busier still, with work of anxious heed.

  There _was_ he, where of branches rent and withered and decayed,
  For covert from the keen north wind, his hands a hut had made.
  A tiny tenement, forsooth, and frail, as needs must be              15
  A thing of such materials framed, by a builder such as he.

  The hut stood finished by his pains, nor seemingly lacked aught
  That skill or means of his could add, but the architect had wrought
  Some limber twigs into a Cross, well-shaped with fingers nice,
  To be engrafted on the top of his small edifice.                    20

  That Cross he now was fastening there, as the surest power and best
  For supplying all deficiencies, all wants of the rude nest
  In which, from burning heat, or tempest driving far and wide,
  The innocent Boy, else shelterless, his lonely head must hide.

  That Cross belike he also raised as a standard for the true         25
  And faithful service of his heart in the worst that might ensue
  Of hardship and distressful fear, amid the houseless waste
  Where he, in his poor self so weak, by Providence was placed.

  ----Here, Lady! might I cease; but nay, let _us_ before we part
  With this dear holy shepherd-boy breathe a prayer of earnest heart, 30
  That unto him, where’er shall lie his life’s appointed way,
  The Cross, fixed in his soul, may prove an all-sufficing stay.



Published 1842

One of the “Poems referring to the Period of Childhood.”--ED.

  Just as those final words were penned, the sun broke out in power,
  And gladdened all things; but, as chanced, within that very hour,
  Air blackened, thunder growled, fire flashed from clouds that hid
     the sky,
  And, for the Subject of my Verse, I heaved a pensive sigh.

  Nor could my heart by second thoughts from heaviness be cleared,     5
  For bodied forth before my eyes the cross-crowned hut appeared;
  And, while around it storm as fierce seemed troubling earth
     and air,
  I saw, within, the Norman Boy kneeling alone in prayer.

  The Child, as if the thunder’s voice spake with articulate call,
  Bowed meekly in submissive fear, before the Lord of All;            10
  His lips were moving; and his eyes, upraised to sue for grace,
  With soft illumination cheered the dimness of that place.

  How beautiful is holiness!--what wonder if the sight,
  Almost as vivid as a dream, produced a dream at night?
  It came with sleep and showed the Boy, no cherub, not transformed,  15
  But the poor ragged Thing whose ways my human heart had warmed.

  Me had the dream equipped with wings, so I took him in my arms,
  And lifted from the grassy floor, stilling his faint alarms,
  And bore him high through yielding air my debt of love to pay,
  By giving him, for both our sakes, an hour of holiday.              20

  I whispered, “Yet a little while, dear Child! thou art my own,
  To show thee some delightful thing, in country or in town.
  What shall it be? a mirthful throng? or that holy place and calm
  St. Denis, filled with royal tombs,[228] or the Church of Notre

  “St. Ouen’s golden Shrine?[230] Or choose what else would please
     thee most                                                        25
  Of any wonder Normandy, or all proud France, can boast!”
  “My Mother,” said the Boy, “was born near to a blessèd Tree,
  The Chapel Oak of Allonville;[231] good Angel, show it me!”

  On wings, from broad and stedfast poise let loose by this reply,
  For Allonville, o’er down and dale, away then did we fly;           30
  O’er town and tower we flew, and fields in May’s fresh verdure
  The wings they did not flag; the Child, though grave, was not

  But who shall show, to waking sense, the gleam of light that
  Forth from his eyes, when first the Boy looked down on that
     huge oak,
  For length of days so much revered, so famous where it stands       35
  For twofold hallowing--Nature’s care, and work of human hands?

  Strong as an Eagle with my charge I glided round and round
  The wide-spread boughs, for view of door, window, and stair that
  Gracefully up the gnarled trunk; nor left we unsurveyed
  The pointed steeple peering forth from the centre of the shade.     40

  I lighted--opened with soft touch the chapel’s iron door,[232]
  Past softly, leading in the Boy; and, while from roof to floor
  From floor to roof all round his eyes the Child with wonder
  Pleasure on pleasure crowded in, each livelier than the last.

  For, deftly framed within the trunk, the[234] sanctuary showed,     45
  By light of lamp and precious stones, that glimmered here, there
  Shrine, Altar, Image, Offerings hung in sign of gratitude;
  Sight that inspired accordant thoughts; and speech[235] I thus

  “Hither the Afflicted come, as thou hast heard thy Mother say,
  And, kneeling, supplication make to our Lady de la Paix;[236]       50
  What mournful sighs have here been heard, and, when the voice was
  By sudden pangs; what bitter tears have on this pavement dropt!

  “Poor Shepherd of the naked Down, a favoured lot is thine,
  Far happier lot, dear Boy, than brings full many to this shrine;
  From body pains and pains of soul thou needest no release,          55
  Thy hours as they flow on are spent, if not in joy, in peace.

  “Then offer up thy heart to God in thankfulness and praise,
  Give to Him prayers, and many thoughts, in thy most busy days;
  And in His sight the fragile Cross, on thy small hut, will be
  Holy as that which long hath crowned the Chapel of this Tree;       60

  “Holy as that far seen which crowns the sumptuous Church in Rome
  Where thousands meet to worship God under a mighty Dome;[237]
  He sees the bending multitude, He hears the choral rites,
  Yet not the less, in children’s hymns and lonely prayer, delights.

  “God for His service needeth not proud work of human skill;         65
  They please Him best who labour most to do in peace His will:
  So let us strive to live, and to our Spirits will be given
  Such wings as, when our Saviour calls, shall bear us up to heaven.”

  The Boy no answer made by words, but, so earnest was his look,
  Sleep fled, and with it fled the dream--recorded in this book,      70
  Lest all that passed should melt away in silence from my mind,
  As visions still more bright have done, and left no trace behind.

  But oh! that Country-man of thine, whose eye, loved Child, can see
  A pledge of endless bliss in acts of early piety,
  In verse, which to thy ear might come, would treat this simple
     theme,                                                           75
  Nor leave untold our happy flight in that adventurous dream.[238]

  Alas the dream,[239] to thee, poor Boy! to thee from whom it flowed,
  Was nothing, scarcely can be aught, yet ’twas[240] bounteously
  If I may dare to cherish hope that gentle eyes will read
  Not loth, and listening Little-ones, heart-touched, their fancies
     feed.                                                            80

[227] 1845.

The title in 1842 was “SEQUEL TO THE NORMAN BOY.”

[228] The Abbey Church of St. Denis, to the north of Paris,--one of the
finest specimens of French Gothic,--was the burial-place of the French
Kings for many generations.--ED.

[229] In Paris.--ED.

[230] The Church of St. Ouen, in Rouen, is the most perfect edifice of
its kind in Europe.--ED.

[231] “Among ancient Trees there are few, I believe, at least in
France, so worthy of attention as an Oak which may be seen in the ‘Pays
de Caux,’ about a league from Yvetot, close to the church, and in the
burial-ground of Allonville.

The height of this Tree does not answer to its girth; the trunk, from
the roots to the summit, forms a complete cone; and the inside of this
cone is hollow throughout the whole of its height.

Such is the Oak of Allonville, in its state of nature. The hand of Man,
however, has endeavoured to impress upon it a character still more
interesting, by adding a religious feeling to the respect which its age
naturally inspires.

The lower part of its hollow trunk has been transformed into a Chapel
of six or seven feet in diameter, carefully wainscotted and paved, and
an open iron gate guards the humble Sanctuary.

Leading to it there is a staircase, which twists round the body of the
Tree. At certain seasons of the year divine service is performed in
this Chapel.

The summit has been broken off many years, but there is a surface at
the top of the trunk, of the diameter of a very large tree, and from it
rises a pointed roof, covered with slates, in the form of a steeple,
which is surmounted with an iron Cross, that rises in a picturesque
manner from the middle of the leaves, like an ancient Hermitage above
the surrounding Wood.

Over the entrance to the Chapel an Inscription appears, which informs
us it was erected by the Abbé du Détroit, Curate of Allonville, in the
year 1696; and over a door is another, dedicating it ‘To Our Lady of
Peace.’”--Vide 14 _No. Saturday Magazine_.--W.W. 1842.

[232] 1845.

    … touch a grated iron door,


[233] 1845.

    … his eyes the wondering creature cast,


[234] 1845.

    … a …


[235] 1845.

    And swift as lightning went the time, ere speech


[236] See note, p. 137.--ED.

[237] St. Peter’s Church.--ED.

[238] This stanza was added in the edition of 1845.

[239] 1845.

    And though the dream, …


[240] 1845.

    Was nothing, nor e’er can be aught, ’twas …



Published 1842

[This subject has been treated of in another note. I will here only, by
way of comment, direct attention to the fact, that pictures of animals
and other productions of Nature, as seen in conservatories, menageries,
and museums, etc., would do little for the national mind, nay, they
would be rather injurious to it, if the imagination were excluded by
the presence of the object, more or less out of a state of Nature. If
it were not that we learn to talk and think of the lion and the eagle,
the palm-tree, and even the cedar, from the impassioned introduction of
them so frequently into Holy Scripture, and by great poets, and divines
who wrote as poets, the spiritual part of our nature, and therefore
the higher part of it, would derive no benefit from such intercourse
with such subjects.--I.F.]

One of the “Poems of the Imagination.”--ED.

    The gentlest Poet, with free thoughts endowed,
    And a true master of the glowing strain,
    Might scan the narrow province with disdain
    That to the Painter’s skill is here allowed.
    This, this the Bird of Paradise! disclaim                          5
    The daring thought, forget the name;
    This the Sun’s Bird, whom Glendoveers might own
    As no unworthy Partner in their flight
    Through seas of ether, where the ruffling sway
    Of nether air’s rude billows is unknown;                          10
    Whom Sylphs, if e’er for casual pastime they
    Through India’s spicy regions wing their way,
    Might bow to as their Lord. What character,
    O sovereign Nature! I appeal to thee,
    Of all thy feathered progeny                                      15
    Is so unearthly, and what shape so fair?
    So richly decked in variegated down,
    Green, sable, shining yellow, shadowy brown,
    Tints softly with each other blended,
    Hues doubtfully begun and ended;                                  20
    Or intershooting, and to sight
    Lost and recovered, as the rays of light
    Glance on the conscious plumes touched here and there?
    Full surely, when with such proud gifts of life
    Began the pencil’s strife,                                        25
    O’erweening Art was caught as in a snare.

      A sense of seemingly presumptuous wrong
    Gave the first impulse to the Poet’s song;
    But, of his scorn repenting soon, he drew
    A juster judgment from a calmer view;                             30
    And, with a spirit freed from discontent,
    Thankfully took an effort that was meant
    Not with God’s bounty, Nature’s love, to vie,
    Or made with hope to please that inward eye
    Which ever strives in vain itself to satisfy,                     35
    But to recal the truth by some faint trace
    Of power ethereal and celestial grace,
    That in the living Creature find on earth a place.


Published 1842

[These verses were suggested while I was walking on the foot-road
between Rydal Mount and Grasmere. The clouds were driving over the top
of Nab-Scar across the vale: they set my thoughts a-going, and the rest
followed almost immediately.--I.F.]

First published (1842) in “Poems chiefly of Early and Late Years,”
afterwards included in the “Poems of the Imagination.”--ED.

    Army of Clouds! ye wingèd Host in troops
    Ascending from behind the motionless brow
    Of that tall rock,[242] as from a hidden world,
    O whither with[243] such eagerness of speed?
    What seek ye, or what shun ye? of the gale[244]                    5
    Companions, fear ye to be left behind,
    Or racing o’er[245] your blue ethereal field
    Contend ye with each other? of the sea
    Children, thus post ye over vale and height[246]
    To sink upon your mother’s lap--and rest?[247]                    10
    Or were ye rightlier hailed, when first mine eyes
    Beheld in your impetuous march the likeness
    Of a wide army pressing on to meet
    Or overtake some unknown enemy?--
    But your smooth motions suit a peaceful aim;                      15
    And Fancy, not less aptly pleased, compares
    Your squadrons to an endless flight of birds
    Aerial, upon due migration bound
    To milder climes; or rather do ye urge
    In caravan your hasty pilgrimage                                  20
    To pause at last on more aspiring heights
    Than these,[248] and utter your devotion there
    With thunderous voice? Or are ye jubilant,
    And would ye, tracking your proud lord the Sun,
    Be present at his setting; or the pomp                            25
    Of Persian mornings would ye fill, and stand
    Poising your splendours high above the heads
    Of worshippers kneeling to their up-risen God?
    Whence, whence, ye Clouds! this eagerness of speed?
    Speak, silent creatures.--They are gone, are fled,                30
    Buried together in yon gloomy mass
    That loads the middle heaven; and clear and bright
    And vacant doth the region which they thronged
    Appear; a calm descent of sky conducting
    Down to the unapproachable abyss,                                 35
    Down to that hidden gulf from which they rose
    To vanish--fleet as days and months and years,
    Fleet as the generations of mankind,
    Power, glory, empire, as the world itself,
    The lingering world, when time hath ceased to be.                 40
    But the winds roar, shaking the rooted trees,
    And see! a bright precursor to a train
    Perchance as numerous, overpeers the rock
    That sullenly refuses to partake
    Of the wild impulse. From a fount of life                         45
    Invisible, the long procession moves
    Luminous or gloomy, welcome to the vale
    Which they are entering, welcome to mine eye
    That sees them, to my soul that owns in them,
    And in the bosom of the firmament                                 50
    O’er which they move, wherein they are contained,
    A type of her capacious self and all
    Her restless progeny.

                          A humble walk
    Here is my body doomed to tread, this path,
    A little hoary line and faintly traced,[249]                      55
    Work, shall we call it, of the shepherd’s foot
    Or of his flock?--joint vestige of them both.
    I pace it unrepining, for my thoughts
    Admit no bondage and my words have wings.
    Where is the Orphean lyre, or Druid harp,                         60
    To accompany the verse? The mountain blast
    Shall be our _hand_ of music; he shall sweep
    The rocks, and quivering trees, and billowy lake,
    And search the fibres of the caves, and they
    Shall answer, for our song is of the Clouds                       65
    And the wind loves them; and the gentle gales--
    Which by their aid re-clothe the naked lawn
    With annual verdure, and revive the woods,
    And moisten the parched lips of thirsty flowers--
    Love them; and every idle breeze of air                           70
    Bends to the favourite burthen. Moon and stars
    Keep their most solemn vigils when the Clouds
    Watch also, shifting peaceably their place
    Like bands of ministering Spirits, or when they lie,
    As if some Protean art the change had wrought,                    75
    In listless quiet o’er the ethereal deep
    Scattered, a Cyclades[250] of various shapes
    And all degrees of beauty. O ye Lightnings!
    Ye are their perilous offspring;[251] and the Sun--
    Source inexhaustible of life and joy,                             80
    And type of man’s far-darting reason, therefore
    In old time worshipped as the god of verse,[252]
    A blazing intellectual deity--
    Loves his own glory in their looks, and showers
    Upon that unsubstantial brotherhood                               85
    Visions with all but beatific light
    Enriched--too transient were they not renewed
    From age to age, and did not, while we gaze
    In silent rapture, credulous desire
    Nourish the hope that memory lacks not power                      90
    To keep the treasure unimpaired. Vain thought!
    Yet why repine, created as we are
    For joy and rest, albeit to find them only
    Lodged in the bosom of eternal things?

[241] The title in the edition of 1842 was _Address to the Clouds_.--ED.

[242] See the Fenwick note and compare Dorothy Wordsworth’s Grasmere
Journal, 31st January 1802.--ED.

[243] 1842.

    … in …


[244] 1842.

    … wind


[245] 1842.

    … on …


[246] 1842.

    … over dale and mountain height


[247] 1842.

    … mother’s joyous lap?


[248] 1842.

    Or come ye as I hailed you first, a Flight
    Aerial, on a due migration bound,
    Embodied travellers not blindly led
    To milder climes; or rather do ye urge
    Your Caravan, your hasty pilgrimage
    With hope to pause at last upon the top
    Of some remoter mountains more beloved
    Than these, …


[249] Compare, in the “Poems on the Naming of Places” (1805), the lines
beginning, “When, to the attractions of the busy world,” l. 48--

    A hoary pathway traced between the trees.


[250] The fifty-three small islands in the Ægean surrounding Delos, as
with a circle (κύκλος)--hence the name.--ED.

[251] Compare Coleridge’s _Hymn before Sunrise in the Vale of

    Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!


[252] Sol = Phoebus = Apollo.--ED.


Published 1842

First published (1842) in “Poems, chiefly of Early and Late Years.”
Afterwards one of the “Poems of the Imagination.”--ED.

                  ----Not a breath of air
    Ruffles the bosom of this leafy glen.
    From the brook’s margin, wide around, the trees
    Are stedfast as the rocks; the brook itself,
    Old as the hills that feed it from afar,                           5
    Doth rather deepen than disturb the calm
    Where all things else are still and motionless.
    And yet, even now, a little breeze, perchance
    Escaped from boisterous winds that rage without,
    Has entered, by the sturdy oaks unfelt,                           10
    But to its gentle touch how sensitive
    Is the light ash! that, pendent from the brow
    Of yon dim cave,[253] in seeming silence makes
    A soft eye-music of slow-waving boughs,
    Powerful almost as vocal harmony                                  15
    To stay the wanderer’s steps and soothe his thoughts.

The Aira beck rises on the slopes of Great Dodd, passes Dockray, and
enters Ullswater between Glencoin Park and Gowbarrow Park, about two
miles from the head of the lake. The Force is quite near to _Lyulph’s
Tower_, where the stream has a fall of about eighty feet. Compare the
reference to it in _The Somnambulist_ (1833), and Wordsworth’s account
of “Aira-Force,” in his _Guide through the District of the Lakes_,
“Here is a powerful Brook, which dashes among rocks through a deep
glen, hung on every side with a rich and happy intermixture of native
wood; here are beds of luxuriant fern, aged hawthorns and hollies
decked with honeysuckles; and fallow deer glancing and bounding over
the lawns and through the thickets.”--ED.

[253] An ash-tree may still be seen at Aira-Force.--ED.


Composed 1842 (or earlier).--Published 1842

One of the “Poems of the Imagination.”--ED.

    Lyre! though such power do in thy magic live
      As might from India’s farthest plain
      Recal the not unwilling Maid,
          Assist me to detain
          The lovely Fugitive:                                         5
    Check with thy notes the impulse which, betrayed
    By her sweet farewell looks, I longed to aid.
    Here let me gaze enrapt upon that eye,
    The impregnable and awe-inspiring fort
    Of contemplation, the calm port                                   10
    By reason fenced from winds that sigh
    Among the restless sails of vanity.
    But if no wish be hers that we should part,
    A humbler bliss would satisfy my heart.
          Where all things are so fair,                               15
    Enough by her dear side to breathe the air
          Of this Elysian weather;
    And, on or in, or near, the brook, espy
      Shade upon the sunshine lying
          Faint and somewhat pensively;                               20
      And downward Image gaily vying
          With its upright living tree
    ’Mid silver clouds, and openings of blue sky
    As soft almost and deep as her cerulean eye.

    Nor less the joy with many a glance                               25
    Cast up the Stream or down at her beseeching,
    To mark its eddying foam-balls prettily distrest
    By ever-changing shape and want of rest;
          Or watch, with mutual teaching,
          The current as it plays                                     30
          In flashing leaps and stealthy creeps
          Adown a rocky maze;
    Or note (translucent summer’s happiest chance!)
    In the slope-channel floored with pebbles bright,
    Stones of all hues, gem emulous of gem,                           35
    So vivid that they take from keenest sight
    The liquid veil that seeks not to hide them.[254]

[254] Compare Wordsworth’s description of the Duddon as “diaphanous,
because it travels slowly,”--ED.


Composed 1842.--Published 1842

[It has been said that the English, though their country has produced
so many great poets, is now the most unpoetical nation in Europe. It
is probably true; for they have more temptation to become so than any
other European people. Trade, commerce, and manufactures, physical
science, and mechanic arts, out of which so much wealth has arisen,
have made our countrymen infinitely less sensible to movements of
imagination and fancy than were our forefathers in their simple state
of society. How touching and beautiful were, in most instances, the
names they gave to our indigenous flowers, or any other they were
familiarly acquainted with!--Every month for many years have we been
importing plants and flowers from all quarters of the globe, many of
which are spread through our gardens, and some perhaps likely to be met
with on the few Commons which we have left. Will their botanical names
ever be displaced by plain English appellations, which will bring them
home to our hearts by connexion with our joys and sorrows? It can never
be, unless society treads back her steps towards those simplicities
which have been banished by the undue influence of towns spreading and
spreading in every direction, so that city-life with every generation
takes more and more the lead of rural. Among the ancients, villages
were reckoned the seats of barbarism. Refinement, for the most part
false, increases the desire to accumulate wealth; and while theories
of political economy are boastfully pleading for the practice,
inhumanity pervades all our dealings in buying and selling. This
selfishness wars against disinterested imagination in all directions,
and, evils coming round in a circle, barbarism spreads in every quarter
of our island. Oh for the reign of justice, and then the humblest man
among us would have more power and dignity in and about him than the
highest have now!--I.F.]

One of the “Poems of the Fancy.”--ED.

    You call it, “Love lies bleeding,”--so you may,[255]
    Though the red Flower, not prostrate, only droops,
    As we have seen it here from day to day,
    From month to month, life passing not away:
    A flower how rich in sadness! Even thus stoops,                    5
    (Sentient by Grecian sculpture’s marvellous power)
    Thus leans, with hanging brow and body bent
    Earthward in uncomplaining languishment,
    The dying Gladiator. So, sad Flower!
    (’Tis Fancy guides me willing to be led,                          10
    Though by a slender thread,)
    So drooped Adonis bathed in sanguine dew
    Of his death-wound, when he from innocent air
    The gentlest breath of resignation drew;
    While Venus in a passion of despair                               15
    Rent, weeping over him, her golden hair
    Spangled with drops of that celestial shower.
    She suffered, as Immortals sometimes do;
    But pangs more lasting far, _that_ Lover knew
    Who first, weighed down by scorn, in some lone bower              20
    Did press this semblance of unpitied smart
    Into the service of his constant heart,
    His own dejection, downcast Flower! could share
    With thine, and gave the mournful name which thou wilt ever bear.

[255] Compare _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, act II. scene i. ll.


The previous poem was originally composed in sonnet form; and it
belongs, in that form, to the year 1833. It occurs in a MS. copy of
the sonnets which record the Tour of 1833 to the Isle of Man and to

    They call it Love lies bleeding! rather say
    That in this crimson Flower Love bleeding _droops_,
    A Flower how sick in sadness! Thus it stoops
    With languid head unpropped from day to day
    From month to month, life passing not away.                        5
    Even so the dying Gladiator leans
    On mother earth, and from his patience gleans
    Relics of tender thoughts, regrets that stay
    A moment and are gone. O fate-bowed flower!
    Fair as Adonis bathed in sanguine dew,                            10
    Of his death-wound, _that_ Lover’s heart was true
    As heaven, who pierced by scorn in some lone bower
    Could press thy semblance of unpitied smart
    Into the service of his constant heart.


Composed (?)[256]--Published 1845

    Never enlivened with the liveliest ray
    That fosters growth or checks or cheers decay,
    Nor by the heaviest rain-drops more deprest,
    This Flower, that first appeared as summer’s guest,
    Preserves her beauty ’mid autumnal leaves                          5
    And to her mournful habits fondly cleaves.

    When files of stateliest plants have ceased to bloom,
    One after one submitting to their doom,
    When her coevals each and all are fled,
    What keeps her thus reclined upon her lonesome bed?               10

      The old mythologists, more impress’d than we
    Of this late day by character in tree
    Or herb, that claimed peculiar sympathy,
    Or by the silent lapse of fountain clear,
    Or with the language of the viewless air                          15
    By bird or beast made vocal, sought a cause
    To solve the mystery, not in Nature’s laws
    But in Man’s fortunes. Hence a thousand tales
    Sung to the plaintive lyre in Grecian vales.
    Nor doubt that something of their spirit swayed                   20
    The fancy-stricken Youth or heart-sick Maid,
    Who, while each stood companionless and eyed
    This undeparting Flower in crimson dyed,
    Thought of a wound which death is slow to cure,
    A fate that has endured and will endure,                          25
    And, patience coveting yet passion feeding,
    Called the dejected Lingerer, _Love lies bleeding_.

[256] The date of the composition of this poem is uncertain, but, as
“companion” to _Love lies Bleeding_, it must be placed in immediate
succession to it.--ED.


Composed 1842.--Published 1842

[Of this clock I have nothing further to say than what the poem
expresses, except that it must be here recorded that it was a
present from the dear friend for whose sake these notes were chiefly
undertaken, and who has written them from my dictation.--I.F.]

One of the “Poems of the Imagination.”--ED.

    Wouldst thou be taught, when sleep has taken flight,
    By a sure voice that can most sweetly tell,
    How far-off yet a glimpse of morning light,
    And if to lure the truant back be well,
    Forbear to covet a Repeater’s stroke,                              5
    That, answering to thy touch, will sound the hour;
    Better provide thee with a Cuckoo-clock
    For service hung behind thy chamber-door;
    And in due time the soft spontaneous shock,
    The double note, as if with living power,                         10
    Will to composure lead--or make thee blithe as bird in bower.

    List, Cuckoo--Cuckoo!--oft tho’ tempests howl,
    Or nipping frost remind thee trees are bare,
    How cattle pine, and droop the shivering fowl,
    Thy spirits will seem to feed on balmy air:                       15
    I speak with knowledge,--by that Voice beguiled,
    Thou wilt salute old memories as they throng
    Into thy heart; and fancies, running wild
    Through fresh green fields, and budding groves among,
    Will make thee happy, happy as a child;                           20
    Of sunshine wilt thou think, and flowers, and song,
    And breathe as in a world where nothing can go wrong.

    And know--that, even for him who shuns the day
    And nightly tosses on a bed of pain;
    Whose joys, from all but memory swept away,                       25
    Must come unhoped for, if they come again;
    Know--that, for him whose waking thoughts, severe
    As his distress is sharp, would scorn my theme,
    The mimic notes, striking upon his ear
    In sleep, and intermingling with his dream,                       30
    Could from sad regions send him to a dear
    Delightful land of verdure, shower and gleam,
    To mock the _wandering_ Voice[257] beside some haunted

    O bounty without measure! while the grace
    Of Heaven doth in such wise, from humblest springs,               35
    Pour pleasure forth, and solaces that trace
    A mazy course along familiar things,
    Well may our hearts have faith that blessings come,
    Streaming from founts above the starry sky,
    With angels when their own untroubled home                        40
    They leave, and speed on nightly embassy
    To visit earthly chambers,--and for whom?
    Yea, both for souls who God’s forbearance try,
    And those that seek his help, and for his mercy sigh.

[257] Compare _To the Cuckoo_ (vol. ii. p. 289)--

    O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,
    Or but a wandering Voice?


[258] Professor Dowden has appropriately called attention to the
fact that the cuckoo-clock at Rydal Mount was not stopped during
Wordsworth’s last illness.--ED.


Composed 1842.--Published 1845

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Wansfell![259] this Household has a favoured lot,
    Living with liberty on thee to gaze,
    To watch while Morn first crowns thee with her rays,
    Or when along thy breast serenely float
    Evening’s angelic clouds. Yet ne’er a note                         5
    Hath sounded (shame upon the Bard!) thy praise
    For all that thou, as if from heaven, hast brought
    Of glory lavished on our quiet days.
    Bountiful Son of Earth! when we are gone
    From every object dear to mortal sight,                           10
    As soon we shall be, may these words attest
    How oft, to elevate our spirits, shone
    Thy visionary majesties of light,
    How in thy pensive glooms our hearts found rest.

    _Dec. 24, 1842._

[259] The Hill that rises to the south-east, above Ambleside.--W.W.


Composed (?)--Published 1842

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Though the bold wings of Poesy affect
    The clouds, and wheel around the mountain tops
    Rejoicing, from her loftiest height she drops
    Well pleased to skim the plain with wild flowers deckt,
    Or muse in solemn grove whose shades protect                       5
    The lingering dew--there steals along, or stops
    Watching the least small bird that round her hops,
    Or creeping worm, with sensitive respect.
    Her functions are they therefore less divine,
    Her thoughts less deep, or void of grave intent                   10
    Her simplest fancies? Should that fear be thine,
    Aspiring Votary, ere thy hand present
    One offering, kneel before her modest shrine,
    With brow in penitential sorrow bent!


Composed 1842.[260]--Published 1845

One of the “Poems of the Fancy.”--ED.

    Glad sight wherever new with old[261]
    Is joined through some dear homeborn tie;

    The life[262] of all that we behold
    Depends upon that mystery.
    Vain is the glory of the sky,[263]                                 5
    The beauty vain of field and grove,
    Unless, while with admiring eye[264]
    We gaze, we also learn to love.[265]

[260] A MS. copy of this fragment in Wordsworth’s handwriting, 31st
December 1842, fixes the date approximately.--ED.

[261] 1845.

    Look up, look round, let things unfold
    Far as they may, their mysteries;
    What profits it if new with old
    Unites not with some homeborn ties.

    MS. 31st Dec. 1842.

    Welcome the sight when new with old


    Glad sight it is when new with old

    MS. 1843.

[262] 1845.

    The good …


[263] 1845.

    … skies,

    MS. 1843.

[264] 1845.

    … eyes

    MS. 1843.

[265] Compare the lines addressed to Mrs. Wordsworth in 1824,

    True beauty dwells in deep retreats.



Two sonnets, and an _Inscription_ for a monument to Southey, were
written in 1843.--ED.


Composed 1st January 1843.--Published 1845

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    While beams of orient light shoot wide and high,
    Deep in the vale a little rural Town[266]
    Breathes forth a cloud-like creature of its own,
    That mounts not toward the radiant morning sky,
    But, with a less ambitious sympathy,                               5
    Hangs o’er its Parent waking to the cares
    Troubles and toils that every day prepares.
    So Fancy, to the musing Poet’s eye,
    Endears that Lingerer. And how blest her sway[267]
    (Like influence never may my soul reject)[268]                    10
    If the calm Heaven, now to its zenith decked[269]
    With glorious forms in numberless array,
    To the lone shepherd on the hills disclose
    Gleams from[270] a world in which the saints repose.

    _Jan. 1, 1843._

[266] Ambleside.--W.W. 1845.

[267] 1845.

    … And blessed be her sway


    So Fancy charms the musing Poet’s eye
    Fixed on that Lingerer …


[268] 1845.

    Ne’er may my soul like influence reject.


[269] 1845.

    Endear that Lingerer. And how blest her sway,
    The faith how pure and holy in effect,
    If the calm Heavens, now to their summit decked



    … of …


† These MS. variants occur in a copy of the sonnet written by
Wordsworth for Mrs. Arnold at Foxhowe.



Composed 1843.--Published 1845

One of the “Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces.”--ED.

    Ye vales and hills whose beauty hither drew
    The poet’s steps, and fixed him here, on you,
    His eyes have closed! And ye, lov’d books, no more
    Shall Southey feed upon your precious lore,
    To works that ne’er shall forfeit their renown                     5
    Adding immortal labours of his own--
    Whether he traced historic truth, with zeal
    For the State’s guidance, or the Church’s weal,
    Or Fancy, disciplined by studious art,
    Inform’d his pen, or wisdom of the heart,                         10
    Or judgments sanctioned in the Patriot’s mind
    By reverence for the rights of all mankind.
    Wide were his aims, yet in no human breast
    Could private feelings meet for holier rest.
    His joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud                  15
    From Skiddaw’s top; but he to heaven was vowed
    Through his industrious life, and Christian faith
    Calmed in his soul the fear of change and death.

I received, from the late Lord Coleridge, the following extracts
from letters written by Wordsworth to his father, the Hon. Justice
Coleridge, in reference to the Southey Inscription in Crosthwaite
Church. Wordsworth seems to have submitted the proposed Inscription to
Mr. Coleridge’s judgment, and the changes he made upon it, in deference
to the opinions he received, shew, as Lord Coleridge says, “the extreme
care Wordsworth took to have the substance, and the expression also, as
perfect as he could make it.” The original draft of the “Inscription”
was as follows:--


    Ye Vales and Hills, whose beauty hither drew
    The Poet’s steps, and fixed him here, on you
    His eyes have closed; and ye, loved Books, no more
    Shall Southey feed upon your precious lore,
    To Works that ne’er shall forfeit their renown
    Adding immortal labours of his own,
    As Fancy, disciplined by studious Art
    Informed his pen, or Wisdom of the heart,
    Or judgments rooted in a Patriot’s mind
    Taught to revere the rights of all mankind.
    Friends, Family--ah wherefore touch that string,
    To them _so_ fondly did the good man cling!
    His joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud
    From Skiddaw’s top; but He to Heaven was vowed
    Through a long life; and calmed by Christian faith,
    In his pure soul, the fear of change and death.

    This Memorial was erected by friends of Robert Southey.

Alteration in the Epitaph--

                          … He to Heaven was vowed
    Through a life long and pure; and Christian faith
    Calmed in his soul the fear of change and death.--W.W.

                                                   December the 6th.


    Notwithstanding what I have written before, I could not but
    wish to meet _your wishes_ upon the points which you mentioned,
    and, accordingly, have added and altered as on the other side
    of this paper. If you approve don’t trouble yourself to answer.

                        Ever faithfully yours,

                                                     W. WORDSWORTH.

        Ye torrents, foaming down the rocky steeps,
        Ye lakes, wherein the spirit of water sleeps,
        Ye vales and hills, etc.
        Or judgments sanctioned in the Patriot’s mind
        By reverence for the rights of all mankind.
        Friends, Family--within no human breast
        Could private feelings need a holier nest.
        His joys, his griefs, have vanished.

    These alterations are approved of by friends here, and I hope
    will please you.

       *       *       *       *       *


    Pray accept my thanks for the pains you have taken with the
    Inscription, and excuse the few words I shall have to say upon
    your remarks. There are two lakes in the Vale of Keswick; both
    which, along with the lateral Vale of Newlands immediately
    opposite Southey’s study window, will be included in the words
    “Ye _Vales_ and Hills” by everyone who is familiar with the

    I quite agree with you that the construction of the lines
    that particularize his writings is rendered awkward by so
    many participles passive, and the more so on account of the
    transitive verb _informed_. One of these participles may be
    got rid of, and, I think, a better couplet produced by this

        Or judgments sanctioned in the Patriot’s mind
        By reverence for the rights of all mankind.

    As I have entered into particulars as to the character of S.’s
    writings, and they are so various, I thought his historic
    works ought by no means to be omitted, and therefore, though
    unwilling to lengthen the Epitaph, I added the two following--

                              … Labours of his own,
        Whether he traced historic truth with zeal
        For the State’s guidance, or the Church’s weal,
        Or Fancy, disciplined by studious Art,
        Informed his pen, or wisdom of the heart,
        Or judgments sanctioned in the Patriot’s mind
        By reverence for the rights of all mankind.

    I do not feel with you in respect to the word “so”; it refers,
    of course, to the preceding line, and as the reference is to
    fireside feelings and intimate friends, there appears to me
    a propriety in an expression inclining to the colloquial.
    The couplet was the dictate of my own feelings, and the
    construction is accordingly broken and rather dramatic,--but
    too much of this. If you have any objection to the couplet
    as altered, be so kind as let me know; if not, on no account
    trouble yourself to answer this letter.

    _Prematurely_ I object to as you do. I used the word with
    reference to that decay of faculties which is not uncommon in
    advanced life, and which often leads to dotage,--but the word
    must not be retained.

    We regret much to hear that Lady Coleridge is unwell, pray
    present to her our best wishes.

    What could induce the Bishop of London to forbid the choral
    service at St. Mark’s? It was in execution, I understand, above
    all praise.

                      Ever most faithfully yours,

                                                     W. WORDSWORTH.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                               _December 2nd, ’43._


    The first line would certainly have more spirit by reading
    “your” as you suggest. I had previously considered _that_;
    but decided in favour of “the,” as “your,” I thought, would
    clog the sentence in sound, there being “ye” thrice repeated,
    and followed by “_you_” at the close of the 4th line. I also
    thought that “_your_” would interfere with the application of
    “you” at the end of the fourth line, to the _whole_ of the
    particular previous images as I intended it to do. But I don’t
    trouble you with this Letter on that account, but merely to ask
    you whether the couplet now standing:--

        Large were his aims, yet in no human breast
        Could private feelings find a holier nest,

    would not be better thus

        Could private feelings meet in holier rest.

    This alteration does not quite satisfy me, but I can do no
    better. The word “_nest_” both in itself and in conjunction
    with “_holier_” seems to me somewhat bold and rather startling
    for marble, particularly in a Church. I should not have thought
    of any alteration in a merely printed poem, but this makes a
    difference. If you think the proposed alteration better, don’t
    trouble yourself to answer this; if not, pray be so kind as to
    tell me so by a single line. I would not on any account have
    trespassed on your time but for this public occasion. We are
    sorry to hear of Lady Coleridge’s indisposition; pray present
    to her our kind regards and best wishes for her recovery,
    united with the greetings of the season both for her and
    yourself, and believe me faithfully,

                             Your obliged,

                                                    WM. WORDSWORTH.

    RYDAL MOUNT, _December 23rd, ’43_.

       *       *       *       *       *



       *       *       *       *       *



        Ye torrents, foaming down the rocky steeps,
        Ye lakes, wherein the spirit of water sleeps,
        Ye vales and hills, whose beauty hither drew
        The Poet’s steps and fixed him here, on you
        His eyes have closed! and ye, loved books, no more
        Shall Southey feed upon your precious lore,
        To works that ne’er shall forfeit their renown
        Adding immortal labours of his own--
        Whether he traced historic truth, with zeal
        For the State’s guidance or the Church’s weal,
        Or Fancy, disciplined by studious art,
        Informed his pen, or wisdom of the heart,
        Or judgments sanctioned in the Patriot’s mind
        By reverence for the rights of all mankind.
        Wide were his aims, yet in no human breast
        Could private feelings find a holier nest.
        His joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud
        From Skiddaw’s top; but he to Heaven was vowed
        Through a long life, and calmed by Christian faith,
        In his pure soul, the fear of change and death.

    This Memorial was erected by friends of Robert Southey.

Edward Quillinan wrote, 25th March 1843, “Yesterday I drove Mr.
Wordsworth early over to Keswick, that he and I might attend the
funeral of Mr. Southey, who was buried in Crosthwaite churchyard there
at eleven A.M. It was very affecting to see Kate Southey with her
brother Cuthbert, and brother-in-law Herbert Hill, at her father’s
grave as the coffin was lowered into it. She looked as if she yearned
to be there too. She says she has now got her father back again.”--ED.


After the perusal of his _Theophilus Anglicanus_, recently published.

Composed 1843.--Published 1845

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Enlightened Teacher, gladly from thy hand
    Have I received this proof of pains bestowed
    By Thee to guide thy Pupils on the road
    That, in our native isle, and every land,
    The Church, when trusting in divine command                        5
    And in her Catholic attributes, hath trod:
    O may these lessons be with profit scanned
    To thy heart’s wish, thy labour blest by God!
    So the bright faces of the young and gay
    Shall look more bright--the happy, happier still;                 10
    Catch, in the pauses of their keenest play,
    Motions of thought which elevate the will
    And, like the Spire that from your classic Hill
    Points heavenward, indicate the end and way.

    RYDAL MOUNT, _Dec. 11, 1843_.

[271] The poet’s nephew, afterwards Canon of Westminster, and Bishop of
Lincoln, and the biographer of his uncle.--ED.


Only four poems were written in 1844.--ED.


Composed July 1844.--Published 1845

One of the “Poems of Sentiment and Reflection.”--ED.

    So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,
    Would that the little Flowers were born to live,
    Conscious of half the pleasure which they give;

    That to this mountain-daisy’s self were known[272]
    The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown                       5
    On the smooth surface of this[273] naked stone!

    And what if hence a bold desire should mount
    High as the Sun, that he could take account
    Of all that issues from his glorious fount!

    So might he ken how by his sovereign aid                          10
    These delicate companionships are made;
    And how he rules the pomp of light and shade;

    And were the Sister-power that shines by night
    So privileged, what a countenance of delight
    Would through the clouds break forth on human sight!              15

    Fond fancies! wheresoe’er shall turn thine eye
    On earth, air, ocean, or the starry sky,
    Converse with Nature in pure sympathy;[274]

    All vain desires, all lawless wishes quelled,
    Be Thou to love and praise alike impelled,                        20
    Whatever boon is granted or withheld.[275][276]

[272] Compare the lines _To a Child, written in her Album_, in

[273] 1844.

    Its sole companion on this


[274] 1845.

    Fond fancies’ bond, between a smile and sigh,
    Do thou more wise, where’er thou turn’st thine eye
    Converse with Nature in pure sympathy.


                          … be taught to fix an eye
    On holy Nature in pure sympathy.


    Fond fancies, wheresoe’er shall range thine eye
    Among the forms and powers of earth or sky,
    Converse with Nature in pure sympathy.


[275] 1845.

    A thankful heart all lawless wishes quelled,
    To joy, to praise, to love alike compelled,
    Whatever boon be granted or withheld.


The following variation of the two last stanzas is from a MS. copy by

    Fond fancies! wheresoe’er shall range thine eye
    Among the forms and powers of earth and sky,
    Converse with nature in pure sympathy.
    A thankful heart, all lawless wishes quell’d,
    To joy, to praise, to love alike compell’d,
    Whatever boon be granted or withheld.

_August, 1844._--ED.

[276] The following account of the circumstance which gave rise to the
preceding poem is from the _Memoir_ of Professor Archer Butler, by Mr.
Woodward, prefixed to the “First Series” of his Sermons. The late Rev.
Archdeacon Graves, of Dublin (in 1849 of Windermere), in writing to Mr.
Woodward, gives an interesting account of a walk, in July 1844, from
Windermere, by Rydal and Grasmere, to Loughrigg Tarn, etc., in which
Butler was accompanied by Wordsworth, Julius Charles Hare, Sir William
Hamilton, etc. He says, “The day was additionally memorable as giving
birth to an interesting minor poem of Mr. Wordsworth’s. When we reached
the side of Loughrigg Tarn (which you may remember he notes for its
similarity, in the peculiar character of its beauty, to the Lago di
Nemi--Dianae Speculum), the loveliness of the scene arrested our steps
and fixed our gaze. The splendour of a July noon surrounded us and
lit up the landscape, with the Langdale Pikes soaring above, and the
bright tarn shining beneath; and when the poet’s eyes were satisfied
with their feast on the beauties familiar to them, they sought relief
in the search, to them a happy vital habit, for new beauty in the
flower-enamelled turf at his feet. There his attention was arrested
by a fair smooth stone, of the size of an ostrich’s egg, seeming to
imbed at its centre, and at the same time to display a dark star-shaped
fossil of most distinct outline. Upon closer inspection this proved
to be the shadow of a daisy projected upon it with extraordinary
precision by the intense light of an almost vertical sun. The poet drew
the attention of the rest of the party to the minute but beautiful
phenomenon, and gave expression at the time to thoughts suggested by
it, which so interested our friend Professor Butler, that he plucked
the tiny flower, and, saying that “it should be not only the theme but
the memorial of the thought they had heard,” bestowed it somewhere
carefully for preservation. The little poem, in which some of these
thoughts were afterwards crystallised, commences with the stanza--

    So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,
    Would that the little flowers were born to live,
    Conscious of half the pleasure that they give.”

_Memoir_, pp. 27, 28.--ED.


Composed October 12, 1844.--Published 1844[277]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Is then no nook of English ground secure
    From rash assault?[278] Schemes of retirement sown
    In youth, and ’mid the busy world kept pure
    As when their earliest flowers of hope were blown,
    Must perish;--how can they this blight endure?                     5
    And must he too the ruthless change bemoan
    Who scorns a false utilitarian lure
    ’Mid his paternal fields at random thrown?
    Baffle the threat, bright Scene, from Orrest-head[279]
    Given to the pausing traveller’s rapturous glance:                10
    Plead for thy peace, thou beautiful romance
    Of nature; and, if human hearts be dead,
    Speak, passing winds; ye torrents, with your strong
    And constant voice, protest against the wrong.

    _October 12th, 1844._

[277] In the first edition of his pamphlet “On the projected Kendal and
Windermere Railway.”--ED.

[278] The degree and kind of attachment which many of the yeomanry
feel to their small inheritances can scarcely be over-rated. Near the
house of one of them stands a magnificent tree, which a neighbour of
the owner advised him to fell for profit’s sake. “Fell it!” exclaimed
the yeoman, “I had rather fall on my knees and worship it.” It happens,
I believe, that the intended railway would pass through this little
property, and I hope that an apology for the answer will not be thought
necessary by one who enters into the strength of the feeling.--W.W.

Compare the two letters on the Kendal and Windermere Railway,
contributed by Wordsworth to _The Morning Post_ in 1844, at Kendal,
revised and reprinted in the same year. See _The Prose Works of
Wordsworth_, vol. ii. pp. 383-405.--ED.

[279] Orresthead is the height close to Windermere, to the north of the


Composed 1844.--Published 1845[280]

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Proud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old,
    Your patriot sons, to stem invasive war,
    Intrenched your brows; ye gloried in each scar:
    Now, for your shame, a Power, the Thirst of Gold,
    That rules o’er Britain like a baneful star,                       5
    Wills that your peace, your beauty, shall be sold,
    And clear way made for her triumphal car
    Through the beloved retreats your arms enfold!
    Heard YE that Whistle? As her long-linked Train
    Swept onwards, did the vision cross your view?                    10
    Yes, ye were startled;--and, in balance true,
    Weighing the mischief with the promised gain,
    Mountains, and Vales, and Floods, I call on you
    To share the passion of a just disdain.

The following by Canon Rawnsley--suggested by an attempt to introduce
a mineral railway into Borrowdale--may be read in connection with
Wordsworth’s two sonnets.--ED.


    Shall then the stream of ruinous Lodore
      Not fill the valley with its changeful sound
      Unchallenged! shall grey Derwent’s sacred bound
    Hear the harsh brawl and intermittent roar
    Of mocking waves upon an iron shore,
      Whereby nor health nor happiness is found!--
      While steam-wains drag from Honister’s heart wound
    The long cooled ashes of its fiery core!

    Burst forth ye sulphurous fountains, as ye broke
      On Skiddaw, lick the waters, blast the trees,
    And let men have the earth they would desire,--
    As well go pass our children through the fire
    With shrieks, Cath-Belus, round thine altar’s smoke,
      As let old Derwent hear such sounds as these.

                                          H.D. RAWNSLEY.


[280] This sonnet was first published in _The Morning Post_, December
17, 1844.--ED.


Composed 1844.--Published 1845

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Here, where, of havoc tired and rash undoing,
    Man left this Structure to become Time’s prey
    A soothing spirit follows in the way
    That Nature takes, her counter-work pursuing.
    See how her Ivy clasps the sacred Ruin[281]                        5
    Fall to prevent or beautify decay;
    And, on the mouldered walls, how bright, how gay,
    The flowers in pearly dews their bloom renewing!
    Thanks to the place, blessings upon the hour;
    Even as I speak the rising Sun’s first smile                      10
    Gleams on the grass-crowned top of yon tall Tower[282]
    Whose cawing occupants with joy proclaim
    Prescriptive title to the shattered pile
    Where, Cavendish,[283] _thine_ seems nothing but a name!

[281] In the chancel of the church at Furness Abbey, ivy almost covers
the north wall. In the Belfry and in the Chapter House, it is the same.
The “tower,” referred to in the sonnet, is evidently the belfry tower
to the west. It is still “grass-crowned.” The sonnet was doubtless
composed on the spot, and if Wordsworth ascended to the top of the
belfry tower, he might have seen the morning sunlight strike the small
remaining fragment of the central tower. But it is more likely that he
looked up from the nave, or choir, of the church to the belfry, when he
spoke of the sun’s first smile gleaming from the top of the tall tower.
“Flowers”--crowfoot, campanulas, etc.--still luxuriate on the mouldered
walls. With the line,

    Fall to prevent or beautify decay;


    Nature softening and concealing,
    And busy with a hand of healing,

in the description of Bolton Abbey in _The White Doe of Rylstone_,
canto i. I. 118. Compare also the _Address from the Spirit of
Cockermouth Castle_, vol. vii. p. 347.--ED.

[282] See preceding note.

[283] Furness Abbey is the property of the Duke of Devonshire, whose
family name is Cavendish.--ED.


The Poems of 1845 include one of the group “On the Naming of Places,”
_The Westmoreland Girl_ (addressed to the Poet’s grandchildren),
several fragments addressed to Mrs. Wordsworth, and to friends, with
one or two Sonnets.--ED.


Composed 1845.--Published 1845

One of the “Poems upon the Naming of Places.”--ED.

    Forth from a jutting ridge, around whose base
    Winds our deep Vale, two heath-clad Rocks ascend[284][285]
    In fellowship, the loftiest of the pair
    Rising to no ambitious height; yet both,
    O’er lake[286] and stream, mountain and flowery mead,              5
    Unfolding prospects fair as human eyes[287]
    Ever beheld. Up-led with mutual help,
    To one or other brow of those twin Peaks
    Were two adventurous Sisters wont to climb,
    And took no note of the hour while thence they gazed,             10
    The blooming heath their couch, gazed, side by side,
    In speechless admiration. I, a witness
    And frequent sharer of their calm[288] delight
    With thankful heart, to either Eminence
    Gave the baptismal name each Sister bore.                         15
    Now are they parted,[289] far as Death’s cold hand
    Hath power to part the Spirits of those who love
    As they did love. Ye kindred Pinnacles--
    That, while the generations of mankind
    Follow each other to their hiding-place                           20
    In time’s abyss, are privileged to endure
    Beautiful in yourselves, and richly graced
    With like command of beauty--grant your aid
    For MARY’S humble, SARAH’S silent, claim,
    That their pure joy in nature may survive                         25
    From age to age in blended memory.

[284] 1845.

    Winds our sequestered vale, two rocks ascend


[285] These two rocks rise to the left of the lower high-road from
Grasmere to Rydal, after it leaves the former lake and turns eastwards
towards the latter. They are still “heath-clad,” and covered with the
coppice of the old Bane Riggs Wood, so named because the shortest
road from Ambleside to Grasmere used to pass through it; “bain” or
“bane” signifying, in the Westmoreland dialect, a short cut. Dr.
Cradock wrote of them thus:--“They are now difficult of approach,
being enclosed in a wood, with dense undergrowth, and surrounded by
a high, well-built wall. They can be well seen from the lower road,
from a spot close to the three-mile stone from Ambleside. They are
some fifty or sixty feet above the road, about twenty yards apart, and
separated by a slight depression of, say, ten feet. The view from the
easterly one is now much preferable, as it is less encumbered with
shrubs; and for that reason also is more heath-clad. The twin rocks
are also well seen, though at a farther distance, from the hill in
White Moss Common between the roads, which Dr. Arnold used to call ‘Old
Corruption,’ and ‘Bit-by-bit Reform.’ Doubtless the rocks were far more
easily approached fifty years ago, when walls, if any, were low and
ill-built. It is probable, however, that even then they were enclosed
and protected; for heath will not grow on the Grasmere hills, on places
much frequented by sheep.” The best view of these “heath-clad” rocks
from the lower carriage road is at a spot two or three yards to the
west of a large rock on the road-side near the milestone. The view
of them from the Loughrigg Terrace walks is also interesting. The
two sisters were Mary and Sarah Hutchinson (Mrs. Wordsworth and her
Sister); and, in the Rydal household, the rocks were respectively named
“Mary-Point,” and “Sarah-Point.”--ED.

[286] 1845.

    O’er wood …


[287] 1845.

    … eye


[288] 1845.

    … that deep …


[289] 1845.

    Gone to a common home, their duty done,
    In this dear vale the Sisters lived, but long
    Have they been parted …


    True to a common love, their early choice
    In this dear Vale, the sisters lived, but long
    Have they been parted-- …




Composed June 6, 1845.--Published 1845

One of the “Poems referring to the Period of Childhood.”--ED.

               PART I

    Seek who will delight in fable
    I shall tell you truth. A Lamb
    Leapt from this steep bank to follow
    ’Cross the brook its thoughtless dam.[291]

    Far and wide on hill and valley                                    5
    Rain had fallen, unceasing rain,
    And the bleating mother’s Young-one
    Struggled with the flood in vain:

    But, as chanced, a Cottage-maiden
    (Ten years scarcely had she told)                                 10
    Seeing, plunged into the torrent,
    Clasped the Lamb and kept her hold.
    Whirled adown the rocky channel,
    Sinking, rising, on they go,
    Peace and rest, as seems, before them                             15
    Only in the lake below.

    Oh! it was a frightful current
    Whose fierce wrath the Girl had braved;
    Clap your hands with joy my Hearers,
    Shout in triumph, both are saved;                                 20

    Saved by courage that with danger
    Grew, by strength the gift of love,
    And belike a guardian angel
    Came with succour from above.

               PART II

    Now, to a maturer Audience,                                       25
    Let me speak of this brave Child
    Left among her native mountains
    With wild Nature to run wild.

    So, unwatched by love maternal,
    Mother’s care no more her guide,                                  30
    Fared this little bright-eyed Orphan
    Even while at her father’s side.

    Spare your blame,--remembrance makes him
    Loth to rule by strict command;
    Still upon his cheek are living                                   35
    Touches of her infant hand,

    Dear caresses given in pity,
    Sympathy that soothed his grief,
    As the dying mother witnessed
    To her thankful mind’s relief.                                    40

    Time passed on; the Child was happy,
    Like a Spirit of air she moved,
    Wayward, yet by all who knew her
    For her tender heart beloved.

    Scarcely less than sacred passions,                               45
    Bred in house, in grove, and field,
    Link her with the inferior creatures,
    Urge her powers their rights to shield.

    Anglers, bent on reckless pastime,
    Learn how she can feel alike                                      50
    Both for tiny harmless minnow
    And the fierce and sharp-toothed pike.

    Merciful protectress, kindling
    Into anger or disdain;
    Many a captive hath she rescued,                                  55
    Others saved from lingering pain.

    Listen yet awhile;--with patience
    Hear the homely truths I tell,
    She in Grasmere’s old church-steeple
    Tolled this day the passing-bell.                                 60

    Yes, the wild Girl of the mountains
    To their echoes gave the sound,
    Notice punctual as the minute,
    Warning solemn and profound.

    She, fulfilling her sire’s office,                                65
    Rang alone the far-heard knell,
    Tribute, by her hand, in sorrow,
    Paid to One who loved her well.

    When his spirit was departed
    On that service she went forth;                                   70
    Nor will fail the like to render
    When his corse is laid in earth.[292]

    What then wants the Child to temper,
    In her breast, unruly fire,
    To control the froward impulse                                    75
    And restrain the vague desire?

    Easily a pious training
    And a stedfast outward power
    Would supplant the weeds and cherish,
    In their stead, each opening flower.                              80

    Thus the fearless Lamb-deliv’rer,
    Woman-grown, meek-hearted, sage,
    May become a blest example
    For her sex, of every age.[293]

    Watchful as a wheeling eagle,                                     85
    Constant as a soaring lark,
    Should the country need a heroine,
    She might prove our Maid of Arc.

    Leave that thought; and here be uttered
    Prayer that Grace divine may raise                                90
    Her humane courageous spirit
    Up to heaven, thro’ peaceful ways.[294]

[290] This Westmoreland Girl was Sarah Mackereth of Wyke Cottage,
Grasmere. She married a man named Davis, and died in 1872 at Broughton
in Furness. The swollen “flood” from which she rescued the lamb,
was Wyke Gill beck, which descends from the centre of Silver Howe.
The picturesque cottage, with round chimney,--a yew tree and Scotch
fir behind it,--is on the western side of the road from Grasmere
over to Langdale by Red Bank. The Mackereths have been a well-known
Westmoreland family for some hundred years. They belong to the “gentry
of the soil,” and have been parish clerks in Grasmere for generations.
One of them was the tenant of the Swan Inn referred to in _The
Waggoner_--the host who painted, with his own hand, the “famous swan,”
used as a sign. (See vol. iii. p. 81.)

The story of _The Blind Highland Boy_, which gave rise to the poem
bearing that name, was told to Wordsworth by one of these Mackereths
of Grasmere. (See the Fenwick note, vol. ii. p. 420.) In a letter to
Professor Henry Reed (31st July 1845) Wordsworth said this poem might
interest him “as exhibiting what sort of characters our mountains
breed. It is truth to the letter.”--ED.

[291] 1845.

    … its simple dam.


[292] 1845.

    … must lie in earth.


[293] Compare _Grace Darling_, p. 311 in this volume.--ED.

[294] 1845.

    Leave that word--and here be offered
    Prayer that Grace divine would raise
    This humane courageous spirit
    Up to Heaven through peaceful ways.

    In a letter to Henry Reed, July 1845.


Composed 1845.--Published 1845

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”--ED.

    Well have yon Railway Labourers to THIS ground
    Withdrawn for noontide rest. They sit, they walk
    Among the Ruins, but no idle talk
    Is heard; to grave demeanour all are bound;
    And from one voice a Hymn with tuneful sound                       5
    Hallows once more the long-deserted Quire[295]
    And thrills the old sepulchral earth, around.
    Others look up, and with fixed eyes admire
    That wide-spanned arch, wondering how it was raised,
    To keep, so high in air, its strength and grace:                  10
    All seem to feel the spirit of the place,
    And by the general reverence God is praised:
    Profane Despoilers, stand ye not reproved,
    While thus these simple-hearted men are moved?

    _June 21st, 1845._

[295] See the note to the previous sonnet on Furness Abbey, p. 168.--ED.


Composed possibly in 1845.--Published 1845

One of the “Poems founded on the Affections.”--ED.

    Yes! thou art fair, yet be not moved
      To scorn the declaration,
    That sometimes I in thee have loved
      My fancy’s own creation.

    Imagination needs must stir;                                       5
      Dear Maid, this truth believe,
    Minds that have nothing to confer
      Find little to perceive.

    Be pleased that nature made thee fit
      To feed my heart’s devotion,                                    10
    By laws to which all Forms submit
      In sky, air, earth, and ocean.


Composed 1845.--Published 1845

One of the “Poems founded on the Affections.”--ED.

    What heavenly smiles! O Lady mine
    Through my[296] very heart they shine;
    And, if my brow gives back their light,
    Do thou look gladly on the sight;
    As the clear Moon with modest pride
      Beholds her own bright beams
    Reflected from the mountain’s side
      And from the headlong streams.

[296] 1845.

    … this …




Composed 1845.--Published 1845

One of the “Poems of the Fancy.”--ED.

    Fair Lady! can I sing of flowers
      That in Madeira bloom and fade,
    I who ne’er sate within their bowers,
      Nor through their sunny lawns have strayed?
    How they in sprightly dance are worn                               5
      By Shepherd-groom or May-day queen,
    Or holy festal pomps adorn,
      These eyes have never seen.

    Yet tho’ to me the pencil’s art
      No like remembrances can give,                                  10
    Your portraits still may reach the heart
      And there for gentle pleasure live;
    While Fancy ranging with free scope
      Shall on some lovely Alien set
    A name with us endeared to hope,                                  15
      To peace, or fond regret.[297]

    Still as we look with nicer care,
      Some new resemblance we may trace:
    A _Heart’s-ease_ will perhaps be there,
      A _Speedwell_ may not want its place.                           20
    And so may we, with charmèd mind
      Beholding what your skill has wrought,
    Another _Star-of-Bethlehem_ find,
      A new[298] _Forget-me-not_.

    From earth to heaven with motion fleet                            25
      From heaven to earth our thoughts will pass,
    A _Holy-thistle_ here we meet
      And there a _Shepherd’s weather-glass_;
    And haply some familiar name
      Shall grace the fairest, sweetest, plant                        30
    Whose presence cheers the drooping frame
      Of English Emigrant.

    Gazing she feels its power beguile
      Sad thoughts, and breathes with easier breath;
    Alas! that meek that tender smile                                 35
      Is but a harbinger of death:
    And pointing with a feeble hand
      She says, in faint words by sighs broken,
    Bear for me to my native land
      This precious Flower, true love’s last token.                   40

[297] 1845.

      And there in sweet communion live:
    Yet those loved most, in which we own
      A touching likeness which they bear
    To flower or herb, by Nature sown,
      To breathe our English air.


      And there in sweet communion live
    Admired for beauty of their own,
      Loved for the likeness some may bear
    To flower …


    Thus tempted Fancy with free scope
      Will range, and on these aliens set
    Names among us endeared to none,
      To hearts a fond regret.


    So tempted …
      May range, …



    Nor miss …



Composed 1845.--Published 1845

One of the “Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order.”--ED.

    Days undefiled by luxury or sloth,
    Firm self-denial, manners grave and staid,
    Rights equal, laws with cheerfulness obeyed,
    Words that require no sanction from an oath,
    And simple honesty a common growth--                               5
    This high repute, with bounteous Nature’s aid,
    Won confidence, now ruthlessly betrayed
    At will, your power the measure of your troth!--
    All who revere the memory of Penn
    Grieve for the land on whose wild woods his name[299]             10
    Was fondly grafted with a virtuous aim,
    Renounced, abandoned by degenerate Men
    For state-dishonour black as ever came
    To upper air from Mammon’s loathsome den.[300]

[299] To William Penn, son of Admiral Sir W. Penn, a printer and
Quaker, Charles II. granted lands in America, to which he gave the name
of Pennsylvania.--ED.

[300] Mr. Ellis Yarnall wrote to me, April 27, 1885: “The three last
lines of the Sonnet _To the Pennsylvanians_, in regard to which you
inquire, I think refer to what at the time Wordsworth wrote was known
as the _repudiation_ by Pennsylvania of her State debt. The language,
however, is too strong, inasmuch as there was _no_ repudiation. For a
year or two the _interest_ on the debt was unpaid, then payment was
resumed. Members of Wordsworth’s family, or his near friends, held, I
believe, some of the Pennsylvania bonds. They held also, as appears
from the _Memoirs_, Mississippi bonds, and these _were_ repudiated, or
at least five million dollars of a certain class of Mississippi bonds.
No such wrong-doing is chargeable to Pennsylvania. I remember the
delight with which Professor Reed showed me the note on the fly-leaf at
the end of the fifth volume of the edition of 1850--words written at
his request, and the last sentences ever composed by the Poet for the


Composed 1845.--Published 1845

One of the “Sonnets dedicated to Liberty and Order.”--ED.

    Young England--what is then become of Old
    Of dear Old England? Think they she is dead,
    Dead to the very name? Presumption fed
    On empty air! That name will keep its hold
    In the true filial bosom’s inmost fold                             5
    For ever.--The Spirit of Alfred, at the head
    Of all who for her rights watch’d, toil’d and bled,
    Knows that this prophecy is not too bold.
    What--how! shall she submit in will and deed
    To Beardless Boys--an imitative race,                             10
    The _servum pecus_ of a Gallic breed?
    Dear Mother! if thou _must_ thy steps retrace,
    Go where at least meek Innocency dwells;
    Let Babes and Sucklings be thy oracles.


The poems written in 1846 were six sonnets, the lines beginning, “I
know an aged man constrained to dwell,” an “Evening Voluntary,” and
other two short pieces.--ED.


Composed 1846.--Published 1850

This was placed among the “Epitaphs and Elegiac Poems.”--ED.

    Why should we weep or mourn, Angelic boy,
    For such thou wert ere from our sight removed,
    Holy, and ever dutiful--beloved
    From day to day with never-ceasing joy,
    And hopes as dear as could the heart employ                        5
    In aught to earth pertaining? Death has proved
    His might, nor less his mercy, as behoved--
    Death conscious that he only could destroy
    The bodily frame. That beauty is laid low
    To moulder in a far-off field of Rome;                            10
    But Heaven is now, blest Child, thy Spirit’s home:
    When such divine communion, which we know,
    Is felt, thy Roman-burial place will be
    Surely a sweet remembrancer of Thee.

[301] This sonnet refers to the poet’s grandchild, who died at Rome
in the beginning of 1846. Wordsworth wrote of it thus to Professor
Henry Reed, “_Jan. 23, 1846._ … Our daughter-in-law fell into bad
health between three and four years ago. She went with her husband to
Madeira, where they remained nearly a year; she was then advised to go
to Italy. After a prolonged residence there, her six children (whom her
husband returned to England for), went, at her earnest request, to that
country, under their father’s guidance; then he was obliged, on account
of his duty as a clergyman, to leave them. Four of the number resided
with their mother at Rome, three of whom took a fever there, of which
the youngest--as noble a boy of five years as ever was seen--died,
being seized with convulsions when the fever was somewhat subdued.”--ED.


Composed 1846.--Published 1850

One of the “Evening Voluntaries.”--ED.

    Where lies the truth? has Man, in wisdom’s creed,
    A pitiable doom; for respite brief
    A care more anxious, or a heavier grief?
    Is he ungrateful, and doth little heed
    God’s bounty, soon forgotten; or indeed,                           5
    Must Man, with labour born, awake to sorrow[302]
    When Flowers rejoice and Larks with rival speed
    Spring from their nests to bid the Sun good morrow?
    They mount for rapture as their[303] songs proclaim
    Warbled in hearing both of earth and sky;                         10
    But o’er the contrast wherefore heave a sigh?
    Like those aspirants let us soar--our aim,
    Through life’s worst trials, whether shocks or snares,
    A happier, brighter, purer Heaven than theirs.[304]

[302] 1850.

    Who that lies down and may not wake to sorrow


[303] 1850.

    They mount for rapture; this their …


[304] This sonnet was suggested by the death of Wordsworth’s grandson
commemorated in the previous sonnet, and by the alarming illness of his
brother, the Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, and the expected
death of a nephew (John Wordsworth), at Ambleside, the only son of his
eldest brother, Richard.--ED.


Composed 1846.--Published 1850

One of the “Evening Voluntaries.”--ED.

    Giordano, verily thy Pencil’s skill
    Hath here portrayed with Nature’s happiest grace
    The fair Endymion couched on Latmos-hill;
    And Dian gazing on the Shepherd’s face
    In rapture,--yet suspending her embrace,                           5
    As not unconscious with what power the thrill
    Of her most timid touch his sleep would chase,
    And, with his sleep, that beauty calm and still.
    O may this work have found its last retreat
    Here in a Mountain-bard’s secure abode,                           10
    One to whom, yet a School-boy, Cynthia showed
    A face of love which he in love would greet,
    Fixed, by her smile, upon some rocky seat;
    Or lured along where green-wood paths he trod.

    RYDAL MOUNT, 1846.

[305] Lucca Giordano was born at Naples, in 1629. He was at first a
disciple of Spagnaletto, next of Pietro da Cortona; but after coming
under the influence of Correggio, he went to Venice, where Titian was
his inspiring master. In his own work the influence of all of these
predecessors may be traced, but chiefly that of Titian, whose style
of colouring and composition he followed so closely that many of his
works might be mistaken for those of his greatest master. The picture
referred to in this sonnet was brought from Italy by the poet’s eldest


Composed 1846.--Published 1850

One of the “Evening Voluntaries.”--ED.

    Who but is pleased to watch the moon on high
    Travelling where she from time to time enshrouds
    Her head, and nothing loth her Majesty
    Renounces, till among the scattered clouds
    One with its kindling edge declares that soon                      5
    Will reappear before the uplifted eye
    A Form as bright, as beautiful a moon,
    To glide in open prospect through clear sky.
    Pity that such a promise e’er should prove
    False in the issue, that yon seeming space                        10
    Of sky should be in truth the stedfast face
    Of a cloud flat and dense, through which must move
    (By transit not unlike man’s frequent doom)
    The Wanderer lost in more determined gloom.


Composed 1846.--Published 1850

One of the “Poems of Sentiment and Reflection.”--ED.

    Discourse was deemed Man’s noblest attribute,
    And written words the glory of his hand;
    Then followed Printing with enlarged command
    For thought--dominion vast and absolute
    For spreading truth, and making love expand.                       5
    Now prose and verse sunk into disrepute
    Must lacquey a dumb Art that best can suit
    The taste of this once-intellectual Land.
    A backward movement surely have we here,[306]
    From manhood--back to childhood; for the age--                    10
    Back towards caverned life’s first rude career.
    Avaunt this vile abuse of pictured page!
    Must eyes be all in all, the tongue and ear
    Nothing? Heaven keep us from a lower stage!

[306] The _Illustrated London News_--the pioneer of illustrated
newspapers--was first issued on 14th May 1842. The painter and artist
may differ from the poet, in the judgment here pronounced; but had
Wordsworth known the degradation to which many newspapers would sink in
this direction, his censure would have been more severe.--ED.



Composed 1846.--Published 1850

    Affections lose their object; Time brings forth
    No successors; and, lodged in memory,
    If love exist no longer, it must die,--
    Wanting accustomed food must pass from earth,
    Or never hope to reach a second birth.[307]                        5
    This sad belief, the happiest that is left
    To thousands, share not Thou; howe’er bereft,
    Scorned, or neglected, fear not such a dearth.
    Though poor and destitute of friends thou art,
    Perhaps the sole survivor of thy race,                            10
    One to whom Heaven assigns that mournful part
    The utmost solitude of age to face,
    Still shall be left some corner of the heart
    Where Love for living Thing can find a place.

[307] Compare Tennyson’s _Lines to J.S._--

    God gives us love. Something to love
      He lends us; but, when love is grown
    To ripeness, that on which it throve
      Falls off, and love is left alone.



Composed 1846.--Published 1850

One of the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

    I know an aged Man constrained to dwell
    In a large house of public charity,
    Where he abides, as in a Prisoner’s cell,
    With numbers near, alas! no company.

    When he could creep about, at will, though poor                    5
    And forced to live on alms, this old Man fed
    A Redbreast, one that to his cottage door
    Came not, but in a lane partook his bread.

    There, at the root of one particular tree,
    An easy seat this worn-out Labourer found                         10
    While Robin pecked the crumbs upon his knee
    Laid one by one, or scattered on the ground.

    Dear intercourse was theirs, day after day;
    What signs of mutual gladness when they met!
    Think of their common peace, their simple play,                   15
    The parting moment and its fond regret.

    Months passed in love that failed not to fulfil,
    In spite of season’s change, its own demand,
    By fluttering pinions here and busy bill;
    There by caresses from a tremulous hand.                          20

    Thus in the chosen spot a tie so strong
    Was formed between the solitary pair,
    That when his fate had housed him ’mid a throng
    The Captive shunned all converse proffered there.

    Wife, children, kindred, they were dead and gone;                 25
    But, if no evil hap his wishes crossed,
    One living Stay was left, and on[308] that one
    Some recompense for all that he had lost.

    O that the good old Man had power to prove,
    By message sent through air or visible token,                     30
    That still he loves the Bird, and still must love;
    That friendship lasts though fellowship is broken!

[308] So all the editions have it; but, as Principal Greenwood
suggested to me, the true reading should be “in that one.”--ED.


Composed 1846.--Published 1850

One of the “Poems of Sentiment and Reflection.”--ED.

    The unremitting voice of nightly streams
    That wastes so oft, we think, its tuneful powers,
    If neither soothing to the worm that gleams
    Through dewy grass, nor small birds hushed in bowers,
    Nor unto silent leaves and drowsy flowers,--                       5
    That voice of unpretending harmony
    (For who what is shall measure by what seems
    To be, or not to be,[309]
    Or tax high Heaven with prodigality?)
    Wants not a healing influence that can creep                      10
    Into the human breast, and mix with sleep
    To regulate the motion of our dreams
    For kindly issues--as through every clime
    Was felt near murmuring brooks in earliest time;
    As at this day, the rudest swains who dwell                       15
    Where torrents roar, or hear the tinkling knell
    Of water-breaks, with grateful heart could tell.

[309] _Hamlet_, act III. scene i. l. 56.--ED.


Composed 1846.--Published 1850

One of the “Miscellaneous Poems.”--ED.

    How beautiful the Queen of Night, on high
    Her way pursuing among scattered clouds,
    Where, ever and anon, her head she shrouds
    Hidden from view in dense obscurity.
    But look, and to the watchful eye
    A brightening edge will indicate that soon
    We shall behold the struggling Moon
    Break forth,--again to walk the clear blue sky.


Composed 1846.--Published 1850

    Behold an emblem of our human mind
    Crowded with thoughts that need a settled home
    Yet, like to eddying balls of foam
    Within this whirlpool, they each other chase
    Round and round, and neither find
    An outlet nor a resting-place!
    Stranger, if such disquietude be thine,
    Fall on thy knees and sue for help divine.



Composed 1803-6.--Published 1807

[This was composed during my residence at Town-end, Grasmere. Two years
at least passed between the writing of the four first stanzas and
the remaining part. To the attentive and competent reader the whole
sufficiently explains itself; but there may be no harm in adverting
here to particular feelings or _experiences_ of my own mind on which
the structure of the poem partly rests. Nothing was more difficult for
me in childhood than to admit the notion of death as a state applicable
to my own being. I have said elsewhere--

                  A simple child,
    That lightly draws its breath,
    And feels its life in every limb,
    What should it know of death!--

But it was not so much from feelings of animal vivacity that my
difficulty came as from a sense of the indomitableness of the Spirit
within me. I used to brood over the stories of Enoch and Elijah, and
almost to persuade myself that, whatever might become of others, I
should be translated, in something of the same way, to heaven. With
a feeling congenial to this, I was often unable to think of external
things as having external existence, and I communed with all that I saw
as something not apart from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature.
Many times while going to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to
recall myself from this abyss of idealism to the reality. At that
time I was afraid of such processes. In later periods of life I have
deplored, as we have all reason to do, a subjugation of an opposite
character, and have rejoiced over the remembrances, as is expressed in
the lines--

              Obstinate questionings
    Of sense and outward things,
    Fallings from us, vanishings, etc.

To that dream-like vividness and splendour which invest objects of
sight in childhood, every one, I believe, if he would look back, could
bear testimony, and I need not dwell upon it here; but having in the
poem regarded it as presumptive evidence of a prior state of existence,
I think it right to protest against a conclusion, which has given
pain to some good and pious persons, that I meant to inculcate such a
belief. It is far too shadowy a notion to be recommended to faith, as
more than an element in our instincts of immortality. But let us bear
in mind that, though the idea is not advanced in revelation, there is
nothing there to contradict it, and the fall of man presents an analogy
in its favour. Accordingly, a pre-existent state has entered into the
popular creeds of many nations; and, among all persons acquainted with
classic literature, is known as an ingredient in Platonic philosophy.
Archimedes said that he could move the world if he had a point whereon
to rest his machine. Who has not felt the same aspirations as regards
the world of his own mind?[310] Having to wield some of its elements
when I was impelled to write this poem on the “Immortality of the
Soul,” I took hold of the notion of pre-existence as having sufficient
foundation in humanity for authorizing me to make for my purpose the
best use of it I could as a poet.--I.F.]

    The Child is Father of the Man;
    And I could wish my days to be
    Bound each to each by natural piety.[311]


    There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
    The earth, and every common sight,
            To me did seem
          Apparelled in celestial light,
    The glory and the freshness of a dream.                            5
    It is not now as it hath[312] been of yore;--
          Turn wheresoe’er I may,
            By night or day,
    The things which I have seen I now can see no more.


            The Rainbow comes and goes,                               10
            And lovely is the Rose,
            The Moon doth with delight
      Look round her when the heavens are bare,
            Waters on a starry night
            Are beautiful and fair;                                   15
        The sunshine is a glorious birth;
        But yet I know, where’er I go,
    That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.


    Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
        And while the young lambs bound                               20
            As to the tabor’s sound,
    To me alone there came a thought of grief:
    A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
            And I again am strong:
    The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;                 25
    No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
    I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
    The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
            And all the earth is gay;
                Land and sea                                          30
          Give themselves up to jollity,
            And with the heart of May
          Doth every Beast keep holiday;--
            Thou Child of Joy,
    Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy!  35


    Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
        Ye to each other make; I see
    The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
        My heart is at your festival,
          My head hath its coronal,[313]                              40
    The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.[314]
          Oh evil day! if I were sullen
          While Earth herself is adorning,[315]
              This sweet May-morning,
          And the Children are culling[316]                           45
              On every side,
          In a thousand valleys far and wide,
          Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
    And the Babe leaps up on his Mother’s arm:--
          I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!                            50
          --But there’s a Tree, of many, one,
    A single Field which I have looked upon,
    Both of them speak of something that is gone:
          The Pansy at my feet
          Doth the same tale repeat:                                  55
    Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
    Where is it now,[317] the glory and the dream?


    Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
    The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
          Hath had elsewhere its setting,                             60
            And cometh from afar:
          Not in entire forgetfulness,
          And not in utter nakedness,
    But trailing clouds of glory do we come
          From God, who is our home:                                  65
    Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
    Shades of the prison-house begin to close
          Upon the growing Boy,
    But He beholds the light, and whence it flows
          He sees it in his joy;                                      70
    The Youth, who daily farther from the east
          Must travel, still is Nature’s Priest,
          And by the vision splendid
          Is on his way attended;
    At length the Man perceives it[318] die away,                     75
    And fade into the light of common day.[319]


    Earth fills her lap with pleasures[320] of her own;
    Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
    And, even with something of a Mother’s mind,
          And no unworthy aim,                                        80
          The homely Nurse doth all she can
    To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
          Forget the glories he hath known,
    And that imperial palace whence he came.


    Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,                      85
    A six years’ Darling[321] of a pigmy size!
    See, where ’mid work of his own hand he lies,
    Fretted by sallies of his mother’s kisses,
    With light upon him from his father’s eyes!
    See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,                      90
    Some fragment from his dream of human life,
    Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
        A wedding or a festival,
        A mourning or a funeral;
          And this hath now his heart,                                95
        And unto this he frames his song:
          Then will he fit his tongue
    To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
        But it will not be long
        Ere this be thrown aside,                                    100
        And with new joy and pride
    The little Actor cons another part;
    Filling from time to time his “humorous stage”[322]
    With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
    That Life brings with her in her equipage;                       105
        As if his whole vocation
        Were endless imitation.


    Thou, whose exterior semblance[323] doth belie
        Thy Soul’s immensity;
    Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep                         110
    Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,
    That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep,
    Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,--
          Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
          On whom those truths do rest,                              115
    Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
    In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;[324]
    Thou, over whom thy Immortality
    Broods like the Day, a Master o’er a Slave,
    A Presence which is not to be put by;[325]                       120
    Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
    Of heaven-born freedom on thy being’s height,[326]
    Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
    The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
    Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?                     125
    Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,
    And custom[327] lie upon thee with a weight,[328]
    Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!


            O joy! that in our embers
            Is something that doth live,                             130
            That nature yet remembers
            What was so fugitive!
    The thought of our past years in me doth breed
    Perpetual benediction;[329] not indeed
    For that which is most worthy to be blest;                       135
    Delight and liberty, the simple creed
    Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
    With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--[330]
            Not for these I raise
            The song of thanks and praise;                           140
          But for those obstinate questionings
          Of sense and outward things,
          Fallings from us, vanishings;
          Blank misgivings of a Creature
    Moving about in worlds not realised,                             145
    High instincts before which our mortal Nature
    Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:
            But for those first affections,
            Those shadowy recollections,
          Which, be they what they may,                              150
    Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
    Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
        Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make[331]
    Our noisy years seem moments in the being
    Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,                        155
          To perish never;
    Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
            Nor Man nor Boy,
    Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
    Can utterly abolish or destroy!                                  160
          Hence in a season of calm weather,
            Though inland far we be,
    Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea
            Which brought us hither,
          Can in a moment travel thither,                            165
    And see the Children sport upon the shore,
    And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.


    Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
          And let the young Lambs bound
          As to the tabor’s sound!                                   170
    We in thought will join your throng,
          Ye that pipe and ye that play,
          Ye that through your hearts to-day
          Feel the gladness of the May!
    What though the radiance which was once so bright                175
    Be now for ever taken from my sight,
        Though nothing can bring back the hour
    Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
          We will grieve not, rather find
          Strength in what remains behind;                           180
          In the primal sympathy
          Which having been must ever be;
          In the soothing thoughts that spring
          Out of human suffering;
          In the faith that looks through death,                     185
    In years that bring the philosophic mind.


    And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
    Forebode not any severing[332] of our loves!
    Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
    I only have relinquished one delight                             190
    To live beneath your more habitual sway.
    I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
    Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
    The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
                  Is lovely yet;                                     195
    The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
    Do take a sober colouring from an eye
    That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
    Another race hath been, and other palms are won.[333]
    Thanks to the human heart by which we live,                      200
    Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
    To me the meanest flower that blows[334] can give
    Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.[335]

This great _Ode_ was first printed as the last poem in the second
volume of the edition of 1807. At that date Wordsworth gave it the
simple title _Ode_, prefixing to it the motto, “Paulò majora canamus.”
In 1815, when he revised the poem throughout, he named it--in
the characteristic manner of many of his titles--diffuse and yet
precise, _Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early
Childhood_; and he then prefixed to it the lines of his own earlier
poem on the Rainbow (March 1802):--

    The Child is Father of the Man;
    And I could wish my days to be
    Bound each to each by natural piety.

It retained this longer title and motto in all subsequent editions. In
the editions 1807 to 1820, it was placed by itself at the end of the
poems, and formed their natural conclusion and climax. In the editions
1827 and 1832, it was inappropriately put amongst “Epitaphs and Elegiac
Poems.” The evident mistake of placing it amongst these seems to have
suggested to Wordsworth, in 1836, its having a place by itself,--which
he gave it then and retained in the subsequent editions of 1842 and
1849,--when it closed the series of minor poems in Volume V., and
preceded the _Excursion_ in Volume VI. The same arrangement was adopted
in the double-columned single volume edition of 1845.

Mr. Aubrey de Vere has urged me to take it out of its chronological
place, and let it conclude the whole series of Wordsworth’s poems, as
the greatest, and that to which all others lead up. Mr. De Vere’s wish
is based on conversations which he had with the poet himself.

The _Ode, Intimations of Immortality_, was written at intervals,
between the years 1803 and 1806; and it was subjected to frequent and
careful revision. No poem of Wordsworth’s bears more evident traces
in its structure at once of inspiration and elaboration; of original
flight of thought and _afflatus_ on the one hand, and on the other of
careful sculpture and fastidious choice of phrase. But it is remarkable
that there are very few changes of text in the successive editions.
Most of the alterations were made before 1815, and the omission of some
feeble lines which originally stood in stanza viii. in the editions
of 1807 and 1815, was a great advantage in disencumbering the poem.
The main revision and elaboration of this Ode, however--an elaboration
which suggests the passage of the glacier ice over the rocks of White
Moss Common, where the poem was murmured out stanza by stanza--was all
finished before it first saw the light in 1807. In form it is irregular
and original. And perhaps the most remarkable thing in its structure,
is the frequent change of the keynote, and the skill and delicacy with
which the transitions are made. “The feet throughout are iambic. The
lines vary in length from the Alexandrine to the line with two accents.
There is a constant ebb and flow in the full tide of song, but scarce
two waves are alike.” (Hawes Turner, _Selections from Wordsworth_.)

In the “notes” to the _Selections_ just referred to on Immortality,
there is an excellent commentary on this _Ode_, almost every line of
which is worthy of minute analysis and study. Some of the following are
suggested by Mr. Turner’s notes.

    (1) _The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep._

The morning breeze blowing from the fields that were dark during the
hours of sleep.

    (2) --_But there’s a Tree, of many, one._

Compare Browning’s _May and Death_--

    Only one little sight, one plant
    Woods have in May, etc.

    (3) _The Pansy at my feet_
    _Doth the same tale repeat._

French “Pensée.” “Pansies, that’s for thoughts.” Ophelia in _Hamlet_.

    (4) _Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting._

This thought Wordsworth owed, consciously or unconsciously, to Plato.
Though he tells us in the Fenwick note that he did not mean to
_inculcate_ the belief, there is no doubt that he clung to the notion
of a life pre-existing the present, on grounds similar to those on
which he believed in a life to come. But there are some differences in
the way in which the idea commended itself to Plato and to Wordsworth.
The stress was laid by Wordsworth on the effect of terrestrial life
in putting the higher faculties to sleep, and making us “forget the
glories we have known.” Plato, on the other hand, looked upon the
mingled experiences of mundane life as inducing a gradual but slow
remembrance (ἀνάμνεσις) of the past. Compare Tennyson’s _Two Voices_,
and Wordsworth’s sonnet, beginning--

    Man’s life is like a sparrow, mighty king.

    (5) _Filling from time to time his “humorous stage”_
    _With all the Persons,_

_i.e._ with the _dramatis personæ_.

    (6) … _thou Eye among the blind,_
    _That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep._

There is an admirable parallel illustration of Wordsworth’s use of this
figure (describing one sense in terms of another), in the lines in
_Airey-Force Valley_--

    A soft eye-music of slow-waving boughs.

    (7) _Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,_
    _And custom lie upon thee with a weight,_
    _Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!_

Compare with this, the lines in the fourth book of _The Excursion_,

    Alas! the endowment of immortal power
    Is matched unequally with custom, time.

    (8) _Fallings from us, vanishings._

The outward sensible universe, visible and tangible, seeming to
fall away from us, as unreal, to vanish in unsubstantially. See the
explanation of this youthful experience in the Fenwick note. That
confession of his boyish days at Hawkshead, “many times, while going to
school, have I grasped at a wall or tree, _to recall myself from this
abyss of idealism to the reality_” (by which he explains those--

    Fallings from us, vanishings, etc.),

suggests a similar experience and confession of Cardinal Newman’s in
his _Apologia_ (see p. 67).

The late Rev. Robert Perceval Graves, of Windermere, and afterwards of
Dublin, wrote to me in 1850:--“I remember Mr. Wordsworth saying, that
at a particular stage of his mental progress, he used to be frequently
so rapt into an unreal transcendental world of ideas that the external
world seemed no longer to exist in relation to him, and he _had to
reconvince himself of its existence by clasping a tree, or something
that happened to be near him_. I could not help connecting this fact
with that obscure passage in his great _Ode on the Intimations of
Immortality_, in which he speaks of--

        Those obstinate questionings
    Of sense and outward things;
    Fallings from us, vanishings; etc.”

Professor Bonamy Price further confirms the explanation which
Wordsworth gave of the passage, in a letter written to me in 1881,
giving an account of a conversation he had with the poet, as follows:--

                                         “OXFORD, _April 21, 1881_.

    “MY DEAR SIR,--You will be glad, I am sure, to receive an
    interpretation, which chance enabled me to obtain from
    Wordsworth himself of a passage in the immortal _Ode on

    “It happened one day that the poet, my wife, and I were taking
    a walk together by the side of Rydal Water. We were then by the
    sycamores under Nab Scar. The aged poet was in a most genial
    mood, and it suddenly occurred to me that I might, without
    unwarrantable presumption, seize the golden opportunity thus
    offered, and ask him to explain these mysterious words. So
    I addressed him with an apology, and begged him to explain,
    what my own feeble mother-wit was unable to unravel, and for
    which I had in vain sought the assistance of others, what
    were those ‘fallings from us, vanishings,’ for which, above
    all other things, he gave God thanks. The venerable old man
    raised his aged form erect; he was walking in the middle,
    and passed across me to a five-barred gate in the wall which
    bounded the road on the side of the lake. He clenched the top
    bar firmly with his right hand, pushed strongly against it,
    and then uttered these ever-memorable words: ‘There was a time
    in my life when I had to push against something that resisted,
    to be sure that there was anything outside of me. I was sure
    of my own mind; everything else fell away, and vanished into
    thought.’ Thought, he was sure of; matter for him, at the
    moment, was an unreality--nothing but a thought. Such natural
    spontaneous idealism has probably never been felt by any other

                                                    “BONAMY PRICE.”

This, however, was not an experience peculiar to Wordsworth, as
Professor Price imagined--and its value would be much lessened if it
had been so--but was one to which (as the poet said to Miss Fenwick)
“every one, if he would look back, could bear testimony.”

The following is from S.T. Coleridge’s _Biographia Literaria_ (chap.
xxii. p. 29, edition 1817)--

“To the _Ode on the Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of
Early Childhood_, the poet might have prefixed the lines which Dante
addresses to one of his own Canzoni--

    Canzone, i’ credo, che saranno radi
    Color che tua ragione intendan bene:
    Tanto lor sei faticoso ed alto.

    O lyric song, there will be few, think I,
    Who may thy import understand aright:
    Thou art for them so arduous and so high!

But the Ode was intended for such readers only as had been accustomed
to watch the flux and reflux of their inmost nature, to venture
at times into the twilight realms of consciousness, and to feel a
deep interest in modes of inmost being, to which they know that the
attributes of time and space are inapplicable and alien, but which yet
cannot be conveyed, save in symbols of time and space. For such readers
the sense is sufficiently plain, and they will be as little disposed to
charge Mr. Wordsworth with believing the Platonic pre-existence in the
ordinary interpretation of the words, as I am to believe, that Plato
himself ever meant or taught it.

    πολλά μοι ὑπ’ ἀγκῶνος ὠκέα βέλη
    ἔνδον ἐντὶ φαρέτρας
    φωνᾶντα συνετοῖσιν ἐς
    δὲ τὸ πᾶν ἑρμηνέων
    χατίζει. σοφὸς ὁ πολλὰ εἰδὼς φυᾷ.
    μαθόντες δὲ λάβροι
    παγγλωσσίᾳ, κόρακες ὥς,
    ἄκραντα γαρύετον
    Διὸς πρὸς ὄρνιχα θεῖον.

                 PINDAR, OLYMP. ii.”[336]

The following parallel passages from _The Excursion_, _The Prelude_,
Ruskin’s _Modern Painters_, Keble’s _Praelectiones de Poeticae vi
Medica_ (p. 788, Prael. xxxix.), and the _Silex Scintillans_ of
Henry Vaughan, are quoted, in an interesting note to the _Ode_ on
Immortality, in Professor Henry Reed’s American edition of the Poems


                      Ah! why in age
    Do we revert so fondly to the walks
    Of childhood--but that there the Soul discerns
    The dear memorial footsteps unimpaired
    Of her own native vigour--thence can hear
    Reverberations; and a choral song,
    Commingling with the incense that ascends,
    Undaunted, toward the imperishable heavens,
    From her own lonely altar?

               _The Excursion_, book ix. ll. 36-44.


                        Our childhood sits,
    Our simple childhood, sits upon a throne
    That hath more power than all the elements.
    I guess not what this tells of Being past,
    Nor what it augurs of the life to come; etc.

             _The Prelude_, book v. ll. 507-511.


“ … There was never yet the child of any promise (so far as the
theoretic faculties are concerned) but awaked to the sense of beauty
with the first gleam of reason; and I suppose there are few, among
those who love Nature otherwise than by profession and at second-hand,
who look not back to their youngest and least learned days as those of
the most intense, superstitious, insatiable, and beatific perception of
her splendours. And the bitter decline of this glorious feeling, though
many note it not, partly owing to the cares and weight of manhood,
which leave them not the time nor the liberty to look for their lost
treasure, and partly to the human and divine affections which are
appointed to take its place, yet have formed the subject, not indeed of
lamentation, but of holy thankfulness for the witness it bears to the
immortal origin and end of our nature, to one whose authority is almost
without appeal in all questions relating to the influence of external
things upon the pure human soul.

      Not for these I raise
      The song of thanks and praise
    But for those obstinate questionings, etc. etc.

And if it were possible for us to recollect all the unaccountable and
happy instincts of the careless time, and to reason upon them with the
maturer judgment, we might arrive at more right results than either
the philosophy or the sophisticated practice of art has yet attained.
But we love the perceptions before we are capable of methodising or
comparing them.” (Ruskin’s _Modern Painters_, vol. ii. p. 36, part iii.
ch. v. sec. i.)

“ … Etenim qui velit acutius indagare causas propensae in antiqua
saecula voluntatis, mirum ni conjectura incidat aliquando in commentum
illud Pythagorae, docentis, animarum nostrarum non tum fieri initium,
cum in hoc mundo nascimur; immo ex ignota quadam regione venire eas,
in sua quamque corpora; neque tam penitus Lethaeo potu imbui, quin
permanet quasi quidam anteactae aetatis sapor; hunc autem excitari
identidem, et nescio quo sensu percipi, tacito quidem illo et obscuro,
sed percipi tamen. Atque hac ferme sententia extat summi hac memoria
Poetae nobilissimum carmen; nempe non aliam ob causam tangi pueritiae
recordationem exquisita illa ac pervagata dulcedine, quam propter
debilem quendam prioris aevi Deique propioris sensum.

Quamvis autem hanc opinionem vix ferat divinae philosophiae ratio,
fatemur tamen eam eatenus ad verum accedere, quo sanctum aliquod
et grave tribuit memoriae et caritati puerilium annorum. Nosmet
certe infantes novimus quam prope tetigerit Divina benignitas; quis
porro scit, an omnis illa temporis anteacti dulcedo habeat quandam
significationem Illius Praesentiae?” (Keble, _Praelectiones de Poeticae
vi Medica_, p. 788, Prael. xxxix.)


    Sure, it was so. Man in those early days
            Was not all stone and earth;
    He shined a little, and by those weak rays,
            Had some glimpse of his birth.
    He saw Heaven o’er his head, and knew from whence
            He came condemned hither,
    And, as first Love draws strongest, so from hence
            His mind sure progressed thither.”

                    Henry Vaughan, _Silex Scintillans_.

Mr. Reed also quotes a passage from Vaughan’s poem _Childehood_; but
a more apposite passage may be found in _The Retreate_, in _Silex

    Happy those early dayes, when I
    Shined in my Angell-infancy!
    Before I understood this place
    Appointed for my second race,
    Or taught my soul to fancy ought
    But a white celestiall thought;
    When yet I had not walkt above
    A mile or two from my first Love,
    And looking back, at that short space,
    Could see a glimpse of his bright face;
    When on some _gilded Cloud or Flowre_
    My gazing soul would dwell an houre,
    And in those weaker glories spy
    Some shadows of eternity;
    But felt through all this fleshly dresse
    Bright _shootes_ of everlastingnesse.

The extent of Wordsworth’s debt to Vaughan has been discussed a good
deal. There was no copy of the _Silex Scintillans_ in the Rydal
Mount sale-catalogue. I believe that he had read _The Retreate_, and
forgotten it more completely perhaps than Coleridge forgot Sir John
Davies’ _Orchestra, a Poem on Dancing_, when he wrote _The Ancient

The following may be added from _The Friend_ (the edition of 1818),
vol. i. p. 183:--“To find no contradiction in the union of old and new
to contemplate the Ancient of Days with feelings as fresh as if they
then sprang forth at his own fiat, this characterizes the minds that
feel the riddle of the world, and may help to unravel it! To carry on
the feelings of childhood into the powers of manhood, to combine the
child’s sense of wonder and novelty with the appearances which every
day, for perhaps 40 years, had rendered familiar,

    With sun and moon and stars throughout the year
    And man and woman----

This is the character and privilege of genius, and one of the marks
which distinguish genius from talent.”--ED.

[310] Compare the Atman of the Vedanta Philosophy.--ED.

[311] See vol. ii. p. 292.--ED.

[312] 1820.

    … has …


[313] Compare _The Idle Shepherd Boys_, ll. 28-30 (vol. ii. p.

[314] 1807.

    Even yet more gladness, I can hold it all.


[315] 1836.

    While the Earth herself …


    … itself …


The text of 1832 returns to that of 1807.

[316] 1836.

    … pulling



    Where is it gone, …


[318] 1807.

    … beholds it …


[319] Compare, in Bacon’s Essay _Of Youth and Age_, “A certaine Rabbine
upon the Text, _Your Young Men shall see visions, and your Old Men
shall dream dreames_, inferreth that Young Men are admitted nearer to
God than Old, because _Vision_ is a clearer Revelation than a Dreame.”

See Professor Max Müller’s note to his translation of the Upanishads
(_Sacred Books of the East_, vol. xv. p. 164), beginning “Drivudagomga
uses a curious argument in support of the existence of another

[320] 1807.

    … pleasure …


[321] 1815.

    A four years’ Darling …


[322] See, in Daniel’s _Musophilus_, the introductory sonnet to Fulke
Greville, l. 1.--ED.

[323] 1807.

    … presence …


[324] This line is not in the editions of 1807 and 1815.

[325] The editions of 1807 and 1815 have, after “put by”:

          To whom the grave
    Is but a lowly bed without the sense or sight
          Of day or the warm light,
    A place of thought where we in waiting lie;


The subsequent omission of these lines was due to Coleridge’s
disapproval of them, expressed in _Biographia Literaria_.--ED.

[326] 1815.

    Of untamed pleasures, on thy Being’s height,


[327] 1807.

    The world upon thy noble nature seize
            With all its vanities,
    And custom …


[328] Compare _The Excursion_, book iv. ll. 205, 206--

    Alas! the endowment of immortal power
    Is matched unequally with custom, time.


[329] 1827.

    Perpetual benedictions: …


[330] 1815.

    Of Childhood, whether fluttering or at rest,
    With new-born hope for ever in his breast:


[331] 1815.

    Uphold us, cherish us, and make


[332] 1836.

    Think not of any severing …


[333] Professor Dowden writes of this line: “It is a sunset reflection,
natural to one who has ‘kept watch o’er man’s mortality’: the day is
closing, as human lives have closed; the sun went forth out of his
chamber as a strong man to run a race, and now the race is over and the
palm has been won: all things have their hour of fulfilment.” (See vol.
v. p. 365, of his edition of Wordsworth’s Poems.)--ED.

[334] Compare the introduction to the first canto of _Marmion_--

    The vernal sun new life bestows
    Upon the meanest flower that blows,


[335] Compare Wither’s _The Shepherds Hunting_, the fourth eclogue, ll.

[336] The text of Pindar, as given by S.T.C., is corrected in the above




    She wept.--Life’s purple tide began to flow
    In languid streams through every thrilling vein;
    Dim were my swimming eyes--my pulse beat slow,
    And my full heart was swell’d to dear delicious pain.

    Life left my loaded heart, and closing eye;                        5
    A sigh recall’d the wanderer to my breast;
    Dear was the pause of life, and dear the sigh
    That call’d the wanderer home, and home to rest.

    That tear proclaims--in thee each virtue dwells,
    And bright will shine in misery’s midnight hour;                  10
    As the soft star of dewy evening tells
    What radiant fires were drown’d by day’s malignant pow’r,
    That only wait the darkness of the night
    To chear the wand’ring wretch with hospitable light.


[European Magazine, 1787, vol. xi. p. 302.]

S.T.C. addressed some lines to Wordsworth under the name Axiologus. The
following is a sample, sent to me by the late Mr. Dykes Campbell, _Ad
Vilmum Axiologum_.--ED.[338]


    This be the meed, that thy song creates a thousand-fold echo!
    Sweet as the warble of woods, that awakes at the gale of the morning!
    List! the Hearts of the Pure, like caves in the ancient mountains
    Deep, deep _in_ the Bosom, and _from_ the Bosom resound it,
    Each with a different tone, complete or in musical fragments--
    All have welcomed thy Voice, and receive and retain and prolong it!

    This is the word of the Lord! it is spoken and Beings Eternal
    Live and are borne as an Infant, the Eternal begets the Immortal--
    Love is the Spirit of Life, and Music the Life of the Spirit!

[337] The only justification for republishing this sonnet is that it is
the earliest authoritative record of Wordsworth’s attempts in Verse. It
is a much more authentic one than the _Extract from the conclusion of
a Poem, composed in anticipation of leaving School_, or than the lines
_Written in very early Youth_, and beginning

    Calm is all nature as a resting wheel.

Wordsworth dated the former of these poems 1786, but I do not believe
that he wrote that poem, and still less that he wrote “Calm is all
nature,” etc., _as we now have it_, in that year. Doubtless he wrote
verses on these two subjects; but the best evidence against the notion
that the text, as we now have it, was written in 1786, is this 1787
sonnet on Miss Maria Williams. It is not only dated authoritatively,
but it was _published_ in 1787; and therefore serves (as nothing else
can until we come to 1793) as evidence in regard to the development of
his poetic power. The translation of Francis Wrangham’s lines--which
he called _The Birth of Love_--in 1795, is further evidence in the
same direction. No doubt there were many poor poetic utterances by
Wordsworth later in life--failures in his manhood, as dismal as the
“Walford Tragedy” was in his youth--but I think that the _Lines written
in very early Youth_, and the _Extract from the Poem composed in
anticipation of leaving School_, were rehandled by him, and the text
greatly improved before they were first published. The late Mr. J.
Dykes Campbell wrote to me in 1892: “Poets tell dreadful fibs about
their early verses--as witness S.T.C. who declared he wrote _The Advent
of Love_ at fifteen! I _know_ he didn’t, and am going to print one or
two of his prize school verses of that age, which I have found in his
own fifteen-year-old fist.”--ED.

[338] I should add, in a footnote, that I have no knowledge of the
source whence Mr. Campbell derived this; but I am sure that it must
have reached him from an authentic one.--ED.


In the “Autobiographical Memoranda”--dictated at Rydal Mount in
1847--Wordsworth said, “The first verses which I wrote were a task
imposed by my master: the subject _The Summer Vacation_, and of my
own accord I added others upon _Return to School_. There was nothing
remarkable in either poem; but I was called upon, among other scholars,
to write verses upon the completion of the second century from the
foundation of the school in 1585, by Archbishop Sandys. These verses
were much admired, far more than they deserved, for they were but a
tame imitation of Pope’s versification, and a little in his style.
This exercise, however, put it into my head to compose verses from the
impulse of my own mind; and 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 _Summer Vacation_, and the _Return to School_, were destroyed by

    And has the Sun his flaming chariot driven
    Two hundred times around the ring of heaven,
    Since Science first, with all her sacred train,
    Beneath yon roof began her heavenly reign?
    While thus I mused, methought, before mine eyes,                   5
    The Power of EDUCATION seemed to rise;
    Not she whose rigid precepts trained the boy
    Dead to the sense of every finer joy;
    Nor that vile wretch who bade the tender age
    Spurn Reason’s law and humour Passion’s rage;                     10
    But she who trains the generous British youth
    In the bright paths of fair majestic Truth:
    Emerging slow from Academus’ grove
    In heavenly majesty she seem’d to move.
    Stern was her forehead, but a smile serene                        15
    “Soften’d the terrors of her awful mien.”[339]
    Close at her side were all the powers, design’d
    To curb, exalt, reform the tender mind:
    With panting breast, now pale as winter snows,
    Now flushed as Hebe, Emulation rose;                              20
    Shame follow’d after with reverted eye,
    And hue far deeper than the Tyrian dye;
    Last Industry appear’d with steady pace,
    A smile sat beaming on her pensive face.
    I gazed upon the visionary train,                                 25
    Threw back my eyes, return’d, and gazed again.
    When lo! the heavenly goddess thus began,
    Through all my frame the pleasing accents ran.

      When Superstition left the golden light
    And fled indignant to the shades of night;                        30
    When pure Religion rear’d the peaceful breast
    And lull’d the warring passions into rest,
    Drove far away the savage thoughts that roll
    In the dark mansions of the bigot’s soul,
    Enlivening Hope display’d her cheerful ray,                       35
    And beam’d on Britain’s sons a brighter day,
    So when on Ocean’s face the storm subsides,
    Hush’d are the winds and silent are the tides;
    The God of day, in all the pomp of light,
    Moves through the vault of heaven, and dissipates the night;      40
    Wide o’er the main a trembling lustre plays,
    The glittering waves reflect the dazzling blaze;
    Science with joy saw Superstition fly
    Before the lustre of Religion’s eye;
    With rapture she beheld Britannia smile,                          45
    Clapp’d her strong wings, and sought the cheerful isle.
    The shades of night no more the soul involve,
    She sheds her beam, and, lo! the shades dissolve;
    No jarring monks, to gloomy cell confined,
    With mazy rules perplex the weary mind;                           50
    No shadowy forms entice the soul aside,
    Secure she walks, Philosophy her guide.
    Britain, who long her warriors had adored,
    And deemed all merit centred in the sword;
    Britain, who thought to stain the field was fame,                 55
    Now honour’d Edward’s less than Bacon’s name.
    Her sons no more in listed fields advance
    To ride the ring, or toss the beamy lance;
    No longer steel their indurated hearts
    To the mild influence of the finer arts;                          60
    Quick to the secret grotto they retire
    To court majestic truth, or wake the golden lyre;
    By generous Emulation taught to rise,
    The seats of learning brave the distant skies.
    Then noble Sandys, inspir’d with great design,                    65
    Rear’d Hawkshead’s happy roof, and call’d it mine;
    There have I loved to show the tender age
    The golden precepts of the classic page;
    To lead the mind to those Elysian plains
    Where, throned in gold, immortal Science reigns;                  70
    Fair to the view is sacred Truth display’d,
    In all the majesty of light array’d,
    To teach, on rapid wings, the curious soul
    To roam from heaven to heaven, from pole to pole,
    From thence to search the mystic cause of things                  75
    And follow Nature to her secret springs;
    Nor less to guide the fluctuating youth
    Firm in the sacred paths of moral truth,
    To regulate the mind’s disorder’d frame,
    And quench the passions kindling into flame;                      80
    The glimmering fires of Virtue to enlarge,
    And purge from Vice’s dross my tender charge.
    Oft have I said, the paths of Fame pursue,
    And all that virtue dictates, dare to do;
    Go to the world, peruse the book of man,                          85
    And learn from thence thy own defects to scan;
    Severely honest, break no plighted trust,
    But coldly rest not here--be more than just;
    Join to the rigours of the sires of Rome
    The gentler manners of the private dome;                          90
    When Virtue weeps in agony of woe,
    Teach from the heart the tender tear to flow;
    If Pleasure’s soothing song thy soul entice,
    Or all the gaudy pomp of splendid Vice,
    Arise superior to the Siren’s power,                              95
    The wretch, the short-lived vision of an hour;
    Soon fades her cheek, her blushing beauties fly,
    As fades the chequer’d bow that paints the sky,
      So shall thy sire, whilst hope his breast inspires,
    And wakes anew life’s glimmering trembling fires,                100
    Hear Britain’s sons rehearse thy praise with joy,
    Look up to heaven, and bless his darling boy.
    If e’er these precepts quell’d the passions’ strife,
    If e’er they smooth’d the rugged walks of life,
    If e’er they pointed forth the blissful way                      105
    That guides the spirit to eternal day,
    Do thou, if gratitude inspire thy breast,
    Spurn the soft fetters of lethargic rest.
    Awake, awake! and snatch the slumbering lyre,
    Let this bright morn and Sandys the song inspire.                110

        I look’d obedience: the celestial Fair
        Smiled like the morn, and vanished into air.

[339] This quotation I am unable to trace--ED.

1792 (or earlier)


This sonnet is found in one of Dorothy Wordsworth’s letters to her
friend Miss Jane Polland, written from Forncett Rectory, on 6th May
1792. She wrote:--

“I promised to transcribe some of William’s compositions. As I made
the promise I will give you a little sonnet, but all the same I charge
you, as you value our friendship, not to read it, or to show it to
any one--to your sister, or any other person.… I take the first that
offers. It is only valuable to me because the lane which gave birth to
it was the favourite evening walk of my dear William and me.” … “I have
not chosen this sonnet because of any particular beauty it has; it was
the first I laid my hands upon.”--ED.

    Sweet was the walk along the narrow lane
    At noon, the bank and hedgerows all the way
    Shagged with wild pale green tufts of fragrant hay,
    Caught by the hawthorns from the loaded wain
    Which Age, with many a slow stoop, strove to gain;                 5
    And Childhood seeming still more busy, took
    His little rake with cunning sidelong look,
    Sauntering to pluck the strawberries wild unseen.
    _Now_ too, on melancholy’s idle dream
    Musing, the lone spot with my soul agrees                         10
    Quiet and dark; for through the thick-wove trees
    Scarce peeps the curious star till solemn gleams
    The clouded moon, and calls me forth to stray
    Through tall green silent woods and ruins grey.


Composed 1795 (or earlier).--Published 1795

Translated from some French stanzas by Francis Wrangham, and Printed
in _Poems by Francis Wrangham_, M.A., Member of Trinity College,
Cambridge, London (1795), Sold by J. Mawman, 22 Poultry, pp. 106-111.
In the edition of 1795, the original French lines are printed side by
side with Wordsworth’s translation, which closes the volume.--ED.

    When Love was born of heavenly line,
      What dire intrigues disturb’d Cythera’s joy!
    Till Venus cried, “A mother’s heart is mine;
      None but myself shall nurse my boy.”

    But, infant as he was, the child                                   5
      In that divine embrace enchanted lay;
    And, by the beauty of the vase beguiled,
      Forgot the beverage--and pined away.

    “And must my offspring languish in my sight?”
      (Alive to all a mother’s pain,                                  10
    The Queen of Beauty thus her court address’d)
      “No: Let the most discreet of all my train
    Receive him to her breast:
    Think all, he is the God of young delight.”

    Then TENDERNESS with CANDOUR join’d,                              15
      And GAIETY the charming office sought;
    Nor even DELICACY stay’d behind:
      But none of those fair Graces brought
    Wherewith to nurse the child--and still he pined.
    Some fond hearts to COMPLIANCE seem’d inclined;                   20
      But she had surely spoil’d the boy:
        And sad experience forbade a thought
    On the wild Goddess of VOLUPTUOUS JOY.

    Long undecided lay th’ important choice,
    Till of the beauteous court, at length, a voice                   25
    Pronounced the name of HOPE:--The conscious child
    Stretch’d forth his little arms, and smiled.[340]

    ’Tis said ENJOYMENT (who averr’d
      The charge belong’d to her alone)
    Jealous that HOPE had been preferr’d                              30
      Laid snares to make the babe her own.

    Of INNOCENCE the garb she took,
    The blushing mien and downcast look;
      And came her services to proffer:
    And HOPE (what has not Hope believed!)                            35
    By that seducing air deceived,
      Accepted of the offer.

    It happen’d that, to sleep inclined,
      Deluded HOPE for one short hour
      To that false INNOCENCE’S power                                 40
    Her little charge consign’d.

    The Goddess then her lap with sweetmeats fill’d
      And gave, in handfuls gave, the treacherous store:
    A wild delirium first the infant thrill’d;
      But soon upon her breast he sunk--to wake no more.              45

[340] Compare Gray’s _Progress of Poesy_, iii. I. 87--

                      The dauntless child
    Stretch’d forth his little arms, and smiled.



Composed (?).--Published 1798

    The glory of evening was spread through the west;
      --On the slope of a mountain I stood,
    While the joy that precedes the calm season of rest
      Rang loud through the meadow and wood.

    “And must we then part from a dwelling so fair?”                   5
      In the pain of my spirit I said,
    And with a deep sadness I turned, to repair
      To the cell where the convict is laid.

    The thick-ribbed walls that o’ershadow the gate
      Resound; and the dungeons unfold:                               10
    I pause; and at length, through the glimmering grate,
      That outcast of pity behold.

    His black matted hair on his shoulder is bent,
      And deep is the sigh of his breath,
    And with stedfast dejection his eyes are intent                   15
      On the fetters that link him to death.

    ’Tis sorrow enough on that visage to gaze,
      That body dismiss’d from his care;
    Yet my fancy has pierced to his heart, and pourtrays
      More terrible images there.                                     20

    His bones are consumed, and his life-blood is dried,
      With wishes the past to undo;
    And his crime, through the pains that o’erwhelm him, descried,
      Still blackens and grows on his view.

    When from the dark synod, or blood-reeking field,                 25
      To his chamber the monarch is led,
    All soothers of sense their soft virtue shall yield,
      And quietness pillow his head.

    But if grief, self-consumed, in oblivion would doze,
      And conscience her tortures appease,                            30
    ’Mid tumult and uproar this man must repose,
      In the comfortless vault of disease.

    When his fetters at night have so press’d on his limbs,
      That the weight can no longer be borne,
    If, while a half-slumber his memory bedims,                       35
      The wretch on his pallet should turn,

    While the jail-mastiff howls at the dull clanking chain,
      From the roots of his hair there shall start
    A thousand sharp punctures of cold-sweating pain,
      And terror shall leap at his heart.                             40

    But now he half-raises his deep-sunken eye,
      And the motion unsettles a tear;
    The silence of sorrow it seems to supply,
      And asks of me why I am here.

    “Poor victim! no idle intruder has stood                          45
      With o’erweening complacence our state to compare,
    But one, whose first wish is the wish to be good,
      Is come as a brother thy sorrows to share.

    “At thy name though compassion her nature resign,
      Though in virtue’s proud mouth thy report be a stain,           50
    My care, if the arm of the mighty were mine,
      Would plant thee where yet thou might’st blossom again.”



The following incomplete stanzas were evidently written when _The
Complaint of a Forsaken Indian Woman_ was being composed. They were all
discarded, but have a biographical interest. I assign them to the year

    The snow-tracks of my friends I see,
    Their foot-marks do not trouble me,
    For ever left alone am I.
    Then wherefore should I fear to die?
    They to the last my friends did cherish                            5
    And to the last were good and kind,
    Methinks ’tis strange I did not perish
    The moment I was left behind.

    Why do I watch those running deer?
    And wherefore, wherefore come they here?                          10
    And wherefore do I seem to love
    The things that live, the things that move?
    Why do I look upon the sky?
    I do not live for what I see.
    Why open thus mine eyes? To die                                   15
    Is all that now is left for me,
    If I could smother up my heart
    My life would then at once depart.
    My friends, you live, and yet you seem
    To me the people of a dream;                                      20
    A dream in which there is no love,
    And yet, my friends, you live and move.

    When I could live without a pain,
    And feel no wish to be alive,
    In quiet hopelessness I sleep,                                    25
    Alas! how quiet, and how deep!

    Oh no! I do not, cannot rue,
    I did not strive to follow you.
    I might have dropp’d, and died alone
    On unknown snows, a spot unknown.                                 30
    This spot to me must needs be dear,
    Of my dear friends I see the trace.
    You saw me, friends, you laid me here,
    You know where my poor bones shall be,
    Then wherefore should I fear to die?                              35
    Alas that one beloved, forlorn,
    Should lie beneath the cold starlight!
    With them I think I could have borne
    The journey of another night,
    And with my friends now far away                                  40
    I could have lived another day.


MS. Variants, not inserted in Vol. I.

    (l. 3) On a small pile of humble masonry
    Placed at the foot of …

    (l. 24) He travels on, a solitary man.
    His age has no companion. He is weak,
    So helpless in appearance that, for him
    The sauntering horseman-traveller does not throw
    With careless hand his pence upon the ground
    But stops that he may lodge the coin
    Safe in the old man’s hat: nor quits him so,
    But as he goes towards him turns a look
    Sidelong and half-reverted.…



Composed 1800.--Published 1800

_Andrew Jones_ was included in the “Lyrical Ballads” of 1800, 1802,
1805, and in the Poems of 1815. It was also printed in _The Morning
Post_, February 10, 1801. It was not republished after 1815. With this
poem compare _The Old Cumberland Beggar_.--ED.

    I hate that Andrew Jones; he’ll breed
    His children up to waste and pillage.
    I wish the press-gang or the drum
    Would with its rattling music come,[341]
    And sweep him from the village!                                    5

    I said not this, because he loves
    Through the long day to swear and tipple;
    But for the poor dear sake of one
    To whom a foul deed he had done,
    A friendless man, a travelling cripple!                           10
    For this poor crawling helpless wretch
    Some horseman who was passing by,[342]
    A penny on the ground had thrown;
    But the poor cripple was alone
    And could not stoop--no help was nigh.                            15

    Inch-thick the dust lay on the ground
    For it had long been droughty weather;
    So with his staff the cripple wrought
    Among the dust till he had brought
    The half-pennies together.                                        20

    It chanced that Andrew passed that way
    Just at the time; and there he found
    The cripple in the mid-day heat
    Standing alone, and at his feet
    He saw the penny on the ground.                                   25

    He stooped and took the penny up:[343]
    And when the cripple nearer drew,
    Quoth Andrew, “Under half-a-crown,
    What a man finds is all his own,
    And so, my friend, good-day to you.”                              30

    And _hence_ I said, that Andrew’s boys
    Will all be trained to waste and pillage:
    And wished the press-gang, or the drum
    Would with its rattling music come,[344]
    And sweep him from the village!                                   35

[341] 1815.

    With its tantara sound would come,



    It chanc’d some Traveller passing by,


[343] In the text of 1800, this line is, “He stopped and took the
penny up,” but in the list of _errata_, “stooped” is substituted for

[344] 1815.

    With its tantara sound would come



Numerous fragments of verse, more or less unfinished, occur in the
Grasmere Journals, written by Dorothy Wordsworth. One of these--which
is broken up into irregular fragments, and very incomplete--is
evidently part of the material which was written about the old Cumbrian
shepherd Michael. The successive alterations of the text of the poem
_Michael_ are in the Grasmere Journal. These fragments have a special
topographical interest, from their description of Helvellyn, and its
spring, the fountain of the mists, and the stones on the summit. On the
outside leather cover of the MS. book there is written, “May to Dec.

The following lines come first:--

    There is a shapeless crowd of unhewn stones[345]
    That lie together, some in heaps, and some
    In lines, that seem to keep themselves alive
    In the last dotage of a dying form.
    At least so seems it to a man who stands
    In such a lonely place.

These are followed by a few lines, some of which were afterwards used
in _The Prelude_ (see vol. iii. p. 269):--

    Shall he who gives his days to low pursuits,
    Amid the undistinguishable crowd
    Of cities, ’mid the same eternal flow
    Of the same objects, melted and reduced
    To one identity, by differences
    That have no law, no meaning, and no end,
    Shall he feel yearning to those lifeless forms,
    And shall we think that Nature is less kind
    To those, who all day long, through a long life,
    Have walked within her sight? It cannot be.

        Mary Wordsworth, Dorothy Wordsworth,
                William Wordsworth.
           Sat. Eve., 20 past 6, May 29.

Other fragments follow, less worthy of preservation. Then the passage,
which occurs in book xiii. of _The Prelude_, beginning--

    There are who think that strong affection, love,

(see vol. iii. p. 361), with one or two variations from the final text,
which were not improvements.

Five lines on Helvellyn, afterwards included in the _Musings near
Aquapendente_ (see vol. viii. p. 47, ll. 61-65), come next.

The fragments referring to _Michael_ are written down, probably just
as the brother dictated them to his sister, and would be--if not
unintelligible--certainly without any literary connection or unity,
were they printed in the order in which they occur. I therefore
transpose them slightly, to give something like continuity to the
whole; which remains, of course, a torso.

    I will relate a tale for those who love
    To lie beside the lonely mountain brooks,
    And hear the voices of the winds and flowers.
                                   … It befell
    At the first falling of the autumnal snows,
    Old Michael and his son one day went forth
    In search of a stray sheep. It was the time
    When from the heights our shepherds drive their flocks
    To gather all their mountain family
    Into the homestalls, ere they send them back
    There to defend themselves the winter long.
    Old Michael for this purpose had driven down
    His flock into the vale, but as it chanced,
    A single sheep was wanting. They had sought
    The straggler during all the previous day
    All over their own pastures, and beyond.
    And now at sunrise, sallying forth again
    Far did they go that morning: with their search
    Beginning towards the south, where from Dove Crag
    (Ill home for bird so gentle), they looked down
    On Deep-dale-head, and Brothers water (named
    From those two Brothers that were drowned therein);
    Thence northward did they pass by Arthur’s seat,[346]
    And Fairfield’s highest summit, on the right
    Leaving St. Sunday’s Crag, to Grisdale tarn
    They shot, and over that cloud-loving hill,
    Seat-Sandal, a fond lover of the clouds;
    Thence up Helvellyn, a superior mount,
    With prospect underneath of Striding edge,
    And Grisdale’s houseless vale, along the brink
    Of Sheep-cot-cove, and those two other coves,
    Huge skeletons of crags which from the coast
    Of old Helvellyn spread their arms abroad
    And make a stormy harbour for the winds.
    Far went these shepherds in their devious quest,
    From mountain ridges peeping as they passed
    Down into every nook; …
                            … and many a sheep
    On height or bottom[347] did they see, in flocks
    Or single. And although it needs must seem
    Hard to believe, yet could they well discern
    Even at the utmost distance of two miles
    (Such strength of vision to the shepherd’s eye
    Doth practice give) that neither in the flocks
    Nor in the single sheep was what they sought.
    So to Helvellyn’s eastern side they went,
    Down looking on that hollow, where the pool
    Of Thirlmere flashes like a warrior’s shield
    His light high up among the gloomy rocks,
    With sight of now and then a straggling gleam
    On Armath’s[348] pleasant fields. And now they came,
    To that high spring which bears no human name,
    As one unknown by others, aptly called
    The fountain of the mists. The father stooped
    To drink of the clear water, laid himself
    Flat on the ground, even as a boy might do,
    To drink of the cold well. When in like sort
    His son had drunk, the old man said to him
    That now he might be proud, for he that day
    Had slaked his thirst out of a famous well,
    The highest fountain known on British land.
    Thence, journeying on a second time, they passed
    Those small flat stones, which, ranged by traveller’s hands
    In cyphers on Helvellyn’s highest ridge,
    Lie loose on the bare turf, some half-o’ergrown
    By the grey moss, but not a single stone
    Unsettled by a wanton blow from foot
    Of shepherd, man or boy. They have respect
    For strangers who have travelled far perhaps,
    For men who in such places, feeling there
    The grandeur of the earth, have left inscribed
    Their epitaph, which rain and snow
    And the strong wind have reverenced.
      But soon as Luke, full ten years old, could stand
    Against the mountain blasts, and to the heights
    Not fearing toil, nor length of weary ways,
    He with his Father daily went, and they
    Were as companions, why should I relate
    That objects which the shepherd lov’d before
    Were dearer now? that from the Boy there came
    Feelings and emanations, things which were
    Light to the sun and music to the wind;
    And that the old man’s heart seem’d born again?
      Thus in his Father’s sight the Boy grew up;
    And now when he had reached his eighteenth year,
    He was his comfort and his daily hope.
    Though often thus industriously they passed[349]
    Whole hours with but small interchange of speech,
    Yet were there times in which they did not want
    Discourse both wise and pleasant,[350] shrewd remarks
    Of moral prudence,[351] clothed in images
    Lively and beautiful, in rural forms,
    That made their conversation fresh and fair
    As is a landscape; and the shepherd oft
    Would draw out of his heart the mysteries[352]
    And admirations that were there, of God
    And of his works: or, yielding to the bent
    Of his peculiar humour, would let loose
    His tongue, and give it the wind’s freedom; then,
    Discoursing on remote imaginations, strong
    Conceits, devices, plans, and schemes,[353]
    Of alterations human hands might make
    Among the mountains, fens which might be drained,
    Mines opened, forests planted, and rocks split,
    The fancies of a solitary man.[354]
    Not with a waste of words, but for the sake
    Of pleasure which I know that I shall give
    To many living now, have I described
    Old Michael’s manners and discourse, and thus
    Minutely spoken of that aged Lamp
    Round which the Shepherd and his household sate
    --The light was famous in the neighbourhood
    And was a public symbol …

Then follow four pages of Dorothy Wordsworth’s Journal (May 4th and
5th, 1802); and then, irregularly written, and with numerous erasures,
the remainder of these unpublished lines.

                            … At length the boy
    Said, “Father, ’tis lost labour; with your leave
    I will go back and range a second time
    The grounds which we have hunted through before.”
    So saying, homeward, down the hill the boy
    Sprang like a gust of wind: [and with a heart
    Brimful of glory said within himself,
    “I know where I shall find him, though the storm
    Have driven him twenty miles.”
    For ye must know][355] that though the storm
    Drive one of those poor creatures miles and miles,
    If he can crawl, he will return again
    To his own hills, the spots where when a lamb
    He learned to pasture at his mother’s side.
    Bethinking him of this, again the boy
    Pursued his way toward a brook, whose course
    Was through that unfenced tract of mountain ground
    Which to his father’s little farm belonged,
    The home and ancient birthright of their flock.
    Down the deep channel of the stream he went,
    Prying through every nook. Meanwhile the rain
    Began to fall upon the mountain tops,
    Thick storm, and heavy, which for three hours’ space
    Abated not; and all that time the boy
    Was busy in his search, until at length
    He spied the sheep upon a plot of grass,
    An island in the brook. It was a place
    Remote and deep, piled round with rocks, where foot
    Of man or beast was seldom used to tread.
    But now, when everywhere the summer grass
    Began to fail, this sheep by hunger pressed
    Had left his fellows, made his way alone
    To the green plot of pasture in the brook.
    Before the boy knew well what he had seen
    He leapt upon the island, with proud heart,
    And with a shepherd’s joy. Immediately
    The sheep sprang forward to the further shore,
    And was borne headlong by the roaring flood.
    At this the boy looked round him, and his heart
    Fainted with fear. Thrice did he turn his face
    To either bank, nor could he summon up
    The courage that was needful to leap back
    ’Cross the tempestuous torrent; so he stood
    A prisoner on the island, not without
    More than one thought of death, and his last hour.
    Meantime the father had returned alone
    To his own home, and now at the approach
    Of evening he went forth to meet his son,
    Nor could he guess the cause for which the boy
    Had stayed so long. The shepherd took his way
    Up his own mountain grounds, where, as he walked
    Along the steep that overhung the brook,
    He seemed to hear a voice, which was again
    Repeated, like the whistling of a kite.
    At this, not knowing why--as often-times
    The old man afterwards was heard to say--
    Down to the brook he went, and tracked its course
    Upwards among the o’erhanging rocks; nor
    Had he gone far ere he espied the boy
    Right in the middle of the roaring stream.
    Without distress or fear the shepherd heard
    The outcry of his son: he stretched his staff
    Towards him, bade him leap, which word scarce said
    The boy was safe.…

Of Michael it is said--

    No doubt if you in terms direct had asked
    Whether he loved the mountains, true it is
    That with blunt repetition of your words
    He might have stared at you, and said that they
    Were frightful to behold, but had you then
    Discoursed with him …
    Of his own business, and the goings on
    Of earth and sky, then truly had you seen
    That in his thoughts there were obscurities,
    Wonder, and admiration, things that wrought
    Not less than a religion in his heart.
    And if it was his fortune to converse
    With any who could talk of common things
    In an unusual way, and give to them
    Unusual aspects, or by questions apt
    Wake sudden recognitions, that were like
    Creations in the mind (and were indeed
    Creations often), then when he discoursed
    Of mountain sights, this untaught shepherd stood
    Before the man with whom he so conversed
    And looked at him as with a poet’s eye.
    But speaking of the vale in which he dwelt,
    And those bare rocks, if you had asked if he
    For other pastures would exchange the same
    And dwell elsewhere, …
                          … you then had seen
    At once what spirit of love was in his heart.
    I have related that this Shepherd loved
    The fields and mountains, not alone for this
    That from his very childhood he had lived
    Among them, with a body hale and stout,
    And with a vigorous mind …
                              … But exclude
    Such reasons, and he had less cause to love
    His native vale and patrimonial fields
    Than others have, for Michael had liv’d on
    Childless, until the time when he began
    To look towards the shutting in of life.

In this MS. book there are also some of the original stanzas of _Ruth_,
with a few variations of text.--ED.

[345] Compare the first line of those _Written with a Slate Pencil upon
a Stone, the largest of a Heap lying near a deserted Quarry, upon one
of the Islands at Rydal_, vol. ii. p. 63.--ED.

[346] Stone Arthur. See, in the “Poems on the Naming of Places,” the
one beginning--

    There is an Eminence,


[347] Bottom is a common Cumbrian word for valley.--ED.

[348] Armboth, on the western side of Thirlmere.--ED.

[349] Though in these occupations they would pass†

[350] … prudent, …†

[351] Of daily Providence …†

[352] … obscurities†

[353] Day-dreams, thoughts, and schemes.†

† These variants occur in a letter of Dorothy Wordsworth to Thomas

[354] All doubt as to these fragments being originally intended to form
part of _Michael_ is set at rest by a letter from Wordsworth to Thomas
Poole, of Nether Stowey, written from Grasmere on the 9th of April
1801, in which he gives first some new lines to be added to _Michael_,
at pp. 210 and 211 of vol. ii. of the “Lyrical Ballads” (ed. 1800); to
which letter Dorothy Wordsworth added the postscript, “My brother has
written the following lines, to be inserted page 206, after the ninth

    Murmur as with the sound of summer flies;”

and then follow--

    Though in these occupations they would pass
    Whole hours, etc.

as printed above.

Dorothy Wordsworth adds, “Tell whether you think the insertion of these
lines an improvement.”--ED.

[355] An erased version.--ED.



Composed April 12, 1802.--Published 1807

This poem--known in the Wordsworth household as _The Glowworm_--was
written on the 12th of April 1802, during a ride from Middleham to
Barnard Castle, and was published in the edition of 1807. It was never
reproduced. The “Lucy” of this and other poems was his sister Dorothy.
In a letter to Coleridge, written in April 1802, he thus refers to
the poem, and to the incident which gave rise to it:--“I parted from
M---- on Monday afternoon, about six o’clock, a little on this side
Rushyford. Soon after I missed my road in the midst of the storm.…
Between the beginning of Lord Darlington’s park at Raby, and two or
three miles beyond Staindrop, I composed the poem the opposite page. I
reached Barnard Castle about half-past ten.… The incident of this poem
took place about seven years ago between my sister and me.”

I think it probable that the “incident” occurred near Racedown,
Dorsetshire, where, in the autumn of 1795 Wordsworth settled with his
sister. The following is Dorothy’s account of the composition of the
poem:--“Tuesday, April 20, 1802.--We sate in the orchard and repeated
_The Glowworm_, and other poems. Just when William came to a well, or
trough, which there is in Lord Darlington’s park, he began to write
that poem of _The Glowworm_; interrupted in going through the town of
Staindrop, finished it about two miles and a-half beyond Staindrop. He
did not feel the jogging of the horse while he was writing; but, when
he had done, he felt the effect of it.… So much for _The Glowworm_. It
was written coming from Middleham, on Monday, April 12, 1802.”--ED.

    Among all lovely things my Love had been;
    Had noted well the stars, all flowers that grew
    About her home; but she had never seen
    A glow-worm, never one, and this I knew.

    While riding near her home one stormy night                        5
    A single glow-worm did I chance to espy;
    I gave a fervent welcome to the sight,
    And from my horse I leapt; great joy had I.

    Upon a leaf the glow-worm did I lay,
    To bear it with me through the stormy night:                      10
    And, as before, it shone without dismay;
    Albeit putting forth a fainter light.

    When to the dwelling of my Love I came,
    I went into the orchard quietly;
    And left the glow-worm, blessing it by name,                      15
    Laid safely by itself, beneath a tree.

    The whole next day I hoped, and hoped with fear;
    At night the glow-worm shone beneath the tree;
    I led my Lucy to the spot, “Look here,”
    Oh! joy it was for her, and joy for me!                           20


This, and the next two fragments, by Wordsworth, are extracted from his
sister’s Grasmere Journal.--ED.

    Along the mazes of this song I go
    As inward motions of the wandering thought
    Lead me, or outward circumstance impels.
    Thus do I urge a never-ending way
    Year after year, with many a sleep between,
    Through joy and sorrow; if my lot be joy
    More joyful if it be with sorrow sooth’d.


    The rains at length have ceas’d, the winds are still’d,
    The stars shine brightly between clouds at rest,
    And as a cavern is with darkness fill’d,
    The vale is by a mighty sound possess’d


                                Witness thou
    The dear companion of my lonely walk,
    My hope, my joy, my sister, and my friend,
    Or something dearer still, if reason knows
    A dearer thought, or in the heart of love
    There be a dearer name.[356]

[356] Compare Byron’s _Epistle to Augusta_--

    My sister! my sweet sister! if a name
    Dearer and purer were, it should be thine.

It is a mere coincidence, as Byron could not have seen the Wordsworth


                              The order’d troops
    In spiral circles mount aloft, and soar
    In prospect far above the denser air
    That hangs o’er the moist plain. Again they view
    The glorious sun, and while the light of day
    Still gleams upon their polish’d plumes--the bright
    Sonorous squadrons sing their evening hymn.


Published in _The Morning Post_, March 9, 1802

I cannot affirm, with any certainty, that these lines were written by
Wordsworth; but I agree with Mr. Ernest Coleridge in thinking that they
were. He showed them to his relative--the late Chief Justice--who said
that he did not know who else _could_ have written them, at that time.
Lord Coleridge said the same to myself.--ED.

    O moon! if e’er I joyed when thy soft light
      Danc’d to the murmuring rill on Lomond’s wave,
    Or sighed for thy sweet presence some dark night
      When thou wert hidden in thy monthly grave,[357]
    If e’er on wings which active fancy gave                           5
      I sought thy golden vale with dancing flight
    Then stretcht at ease in some sequestered cave
      Gaz’d on thy lovely Nymphs with fond delight,
    Thy Nymphs with more than earthly beauty bright,
    If e’er thy beam, as Smyrna’s shepherds tell,                     10
      Soft as the gentle kiss of amorous maid
    On the closed eye of young Endymion fell[358]
      That he might wake to clasp thee in the shade,
    Each night while I recline within this cell
    Guide hither, O sweet Moon, the maid I love so well.              15

The shepherds of Smyrna show a cave, where, as they say, Luna descended
to Endymion, laid on a bed under a large oak which was the scene of
their loves. See Chandler’s _Travels in Asia Minor_.

[357] Compare _To the Moon_, vol. viii. p. 15, l. 64.--ED.

[358] Compare, in the “Evening Voluntaries,” _To Lucca Giordano_
(1846), p. 183.--ED.


The canto of Wordsworth’s autobiographical poem, unpublished in _The
Prelude_ (1851), and first given to the world in 1888, is appropriately
entitled “Home at Grasmere.”

The introduction to _The Recluse_ was not only kept back by him during
his lifetime, but was omitted by his representatives--with what must be
regarded as true critical insight--when _The Prelude_ was published in
1850. As a whole, it is not equal to _The Prelude_. Certain passages
are very inferior, but there are others that posterity must cherish,
and “not willingly let die.” It was probably a conviction of its
inequality and inferiority that led Wordsworth to give only one or two
selected extracts from this canto to the world, in his own lifetime.
Two passages were printed in his _Guide to the District of the Lakes_;
another--a description of the flight and movement of birds--was
published in 1827, and subsequent editions, under the title of
_Water-Fowl_; while the Bishop of Lincoln published other two passages
in the _Memoirs_ of his uncle, beginning respectively--

    On Nature’s invitation do I come,


    Bleak season was it, turbulent and bleak.

Internal evidence (see the numerous allusions to Dorothy, and the
reference to John Wordsworth) shows that this canto of _The Recluse_
was written at Grasmere, not long after Wordsworth’s arrival there,
and certainly before his marriage. The text, as now printed, has been
carefully compared with the original MS. by Mr. Gordon Wordsworth. The


    Once to the verge of yon steep barrier came
    A roving school-boy; what the Adventurer’s age
    Hath now escaped his memory--but the hour,
    One of a golden summer holiday,
    He well remembers, though the year be gone.                        5
    Alone and devious from afar he came;
    And, with a sudden influx overpowered
    At sight of this seclusion, he forgot
    His haste, for hasty had his footsteps been
    As boyish his pursuits; and, sighing said,                        10
    “What happy fortune were it here to live!
    And, (if a thought of dying, if a thought
    Of mortal separation, could intrude
    With paradise before him), here to die!”
    No prophet was he, had not even a hope,                           15
    Scarcely a wish, but one bright pleasing thought,
    A fancy in the heart of what might be
    The lot of others, never could be his.
      The station whence he looked was soft and green,
    Not giddy yet aerial, with a depth                                20
    Of vale below, a height of hills above.
    For rest of body, perfect was the spot,
    All that luxurious nature could desire,
    But stirring to the spirit. Who could gaze
    And not feel motions there? He thought of clouds                  25
    That sail on winds, of breezes that delight
    To play on water, or in endless chase
    Pursue each other through the yielding plain
    Of grass or corn, over and through and through,
    In billow after billow, evermore                                  30
    Disporting. Nor unmindful was the Boy
    Of sunbeams, shadows, butterflies and birds,
    Of fluttering Sylphs, and softly-gliding Fays,
    Genii, and winged Angels that are Lords
    Without restraint of all which they behold.                       35
    The illusion strengthening as he gazed, he felt
    That such unfettered liberty was his,
    Such power and joy; but only for this end,
    To flit from field to rock, from rock to field,
    From shore to island, and from isle to shore,                     40
    From open ground to covert, from a bed
    Of meadow-flowers into a tuft of wood,
    From high to low, from low to high, yet still
    Within the bound of this high concave; here
    Must be his home, this Valley be his world.                       45
      Since that day forth the place to him--_to me_
    (For I who live to register the truth
    Was that same young and happy being) became
    As beautiful to thought, as it had been,
    When present, to the bodily sense; a haunt                        50
    Of pure affections, shedding upon joy
    A brighter joy; and through such damp and gloom
    Of the gay mind, as ofttimes splenetic youth
    Mistakes for sorrow darting beams of light
    That no self-cherished sadness could withstand:                   55
    And now ’tis mine, perchance for life, dear Vale,
    Beloved Grasmere (let the Wandering Streams
    Take up, the cloud-capped hills repeat, the Name),
    One of thy lowly dwellings is my Home.
      And was the cost so great? and could it seem                    60
    An act of courage, and the thing itself
    A conquest? who must bear the blame? sage man
    Thy prudence, thy experience--thy desires;
    Thy apprehensions--blush thou for them all.
      Yes, the realities of life so cold,                             65
    So cowardly, so ready to betray,
    So stinted in the measure of their grace
    As we pronounce them, doing them much wrong,
    Have been to me more bountiful than hope,
    Less timid than desire--but that is passed.                       70
      On Nature’s invitation do I come,[359]
    By reason sanctioned--Can the choice mislead,
    That made the calmest, fairest spot of earth,
    With all its unappropriated good,
    My own; and not mine only, for with me                            75
    Entrenched, say rather peacefully embowered,
    Under yon orchard, in yon humble cot,
    A younger orphan of a home extinct,
    The only daughter of my parents, dwells.
      Aye, think on that, my heart, and cease to stir,                80
    Pause upon that, and let the breathing frame
    No longer breathe, but all be satisfied.
    --Oh if such silence be not thanks to God
    For what hath been bestowed, then where, where then
    Shall gratitude find rest? Mine eyes did ne’er                    85
    Fix on a lovely object, nor my mind
    Take pleasure in the midst of happy thoughts,
    But either She whom now I have, who now
    Divides with me this loved abode, was there,
    Or not far off. Where’er my footsteps turned,                     90
    Her Voice was like a hidden Bird that sang,
    The thought of her was like a flash of light,
    Or an _unseen_ companionship, a breath,
    Or fragrance independent of the wind.
    In all my goings, in the new and old                              95
    Of all my meditations, and in this
    Favourite of all, in this the most of all.
    --What Being, therefore, since the birth of man
    Had ever more abundant cause to speak
    Thanks, and if favours of the heavenly Muse                      100
    Make him more thankful, then to call on verse
    To aid him, and in Song resound his joy.
    The boon is absolute; surpassing grace
    To me hath been vouchsafed; among the bowers
    Of blissful Eden this was neither given,                         105
    Nor could be given, possession of the good
    Which had been sighed for, ancient thought fulfilled
    And dear Imaginations realized
    Up to their highest measure, yea and more.
      Embrace me then, ye Hills, and close me in,                    110
    Now in the clear and open day I feel
    Your guardianship; I take it to my heart;
    ’Tis like the solemn shelter of the night.
    But I would call thee beautiful, for mild
    And soft, and gay, and beautiful thou art,                       115
    Dear Valley, having in thy face a smile
    Though peaceful, full of gladness. Thou art pleased,
    Pleased with thy crags, and woody steeps, thy Lake,
    Its one green Island and its winding shores;
    The multitude of little rocky hills,                             120
    Thy Church and cottages of mountain stone
    Clustered like stars some few, but single most,
    And lurking dimly in their shy retreats,
    Or glancing at[360] each other cheerful looks,
    Like separated stars with clouds between.                        125
    What want we? have we not perpetual streams,
    Warm woods, and sunny hills, and fresh green fields,
    And mountains not less green, and flocks, and herds,
    And thickets full of songsters, and the voice
    Of lordly birds, an unexpected sound                             130
    Heard now and then from morn till latest eve,
    Admonishing the man who walks below
    Of solitude, and silence in the sky?
    These have we, and a thousand nooks of earth
    Have also these, but _no_ where else is found,                   135
    No where (or is it fancy?) _can_ be found
    The one sensation that is here; ’tis here,
    Here as it found its way into my heart
    In childhood, here as it abides by day,
    By night, here only; or in chosen minds                          140
    That take it with them hence, where’er they go.
    ’Tis, but I cannot name it, ’tis the sense
    Of majesty, and beauty, and repose,
    A blended holiness of earth and sky,
    Something that makes this individual Spot,                       145
    This small abiding-place of many men,
    A termination, and a last retreat,
    A centre, come from wheresoe’er you will,
    A whole without dependence or defect,
    Made for itself; and happy in itself,                            150
    Perfect Contentment, Unity entire.
      Bleak season was it, turbulent and bleak,[361]
    When hitherward we journeyed, side by side,
    Through bursts of sunshine and through flying showers,
    Paced the long Vales--how long they were--and yet                155
    How fast that length of way was left behind,
    Wensley’s rich Vale and Sedbergh’s naked heights.
    The frosty wind, as if to make amends
    For its keen breath, was aiding to our steps,
    And drove us onward like two ships at sea,                       160
    Or like two birds, companions in mid air,
    Parted and re-united by the blast.
    Stern was the face of Nature. We rejoiced
    In that stern countenance, for our souls thence drew
    A feeling of their strength. The naked trees,                    165
    The icy brooks, as on we passed, appeared
    To question us. “Whence come ye? to what end?”
    They seemed to say; “What would ye,” said the shower,
    “Wild wanderers, whither through my dark domain?”
    The sunbeam said, “Be happy.” When this Vale                     170
    We entered, bright and solemn was the sky
    That faced us with a passionate welcoming,
    And led us to our threshold. Daylight failed
    Insensibly, and round us gently fell
    Composing darkness, with a quiet load                            175
    Of full contentment, in a little shed
    Disturbed, uneasy in itself as seemed,
    And wondering at its new inhabitants.
    It loves us now, this Vale so beautiful
    Begins to love us! By a sullen storm,                            180
    Two months unwearied of severest storm,
    It put the temper of our minds to proof,
    And found us faithful through the gloom, and heard
    The Poet mutter his prelusive songs
    With cheerful heart, an unknown voice of joy,                    185
    Among the silence of the woods and hills;
    Silent to any gladsomeness of sound
    With all their Shepherds.
                            But the gates of Spring
    Are opened. Churlish Winter hath given leave
    That she should entertain for this one day,                      190
    Perhaps for many genial days to come,
    His guests, and make them jocund. They are pleased,
    But most of all the Birds that haunt the flood
    With the mild summons; inmates though they be
    Of winter’s household, they keep festival                        195
    This day, who drooped, or seemed to droop, so long;
    They shew their pleasure, and shall I do less?
    Happiest of happy though I be, like them
    I cannot take possession of the sky,
    Mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there,               200
    One of a mighty multitude, whose way
    Is a perpetual harmony, and dance
    Magnificent. Behold, how with a grace
    Of ceaseless motion,[362] that might scarcely seem
    Inferior to angelical, they prolong                              205
    Their curious pastime, shaping in mid air,
    And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars
    High as the level of the mountain tops,
    A circuit ampler than the lake beneath,
    Their own domain;--but ever, while intent                        210
    On tracing and retracing that large round,
    Their jubilant activity evolves
    Hundreds of curves and circlets, to and fro,
    Upwards and downwards, progress intricate
    Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed                         215
    Their indefatigable flight. ’Tis done--
    Ten times and more, I fancied it had ceased;
    But lo! the vanished company again
    Ascending, they approach--I hear their wings
    Faint, faint at first; and then an eager sound                   220
    Passed in a moment--and as faint again!
    They tempt the sun to sport among[363] their plumes;
    Tempt the smooth water,[364] or the gleaming ice,
    To show them a fair image; ’tis themselves,
    Their own fair forms, upon the glimmering plain,                 225
    Painted more soft and fair as they descend,
    Almost to touch;--then up again aloft,
    Up with a sally, and a flash of speed,
    As if they scorned both resting-place and rest![365]
    This day is a thanksgiving, ’tis a day                           230
    Of glad emotion and deep quietness;
    Not upon me alone hath been bestowed,
    Me rich in many onward-looking thoughts,
    The penetrating bliss; oh surely these
    Have felt it, not the happy Quires of Spring,                    235
    Her own peculiar family of love
    That sport among green leaves, a blither train.
      But two are missing--two, a lonely pair
    Of milk-white Swans, wherefore are _they_ not seen
    Partaking this day’s pleasure? From afar                         240
    They came, to sojourn here in solitude,
    Choosing this Valley, they who had the choice
    Of the whole world.[366] We saw them day by day,
    Through these two months of unrelenting storm,
    Conspicuous at the centre of the Lake,                           245
    Their safe retreat. We knew them well, I guess
    That the whole Valley knew them; but to us
    They were more dear than may be well believed,
    Not only for their beauty, and their still
    And placid way of life, and constant love                        250
    Inseparable, not for these alone,
    But that _their_ state so much resembled ours,
    They having also chosen this abode;
    They strangers, and we strangers; they a pair,
    And we a solitary pair like them.                                255
    They should not have departed; many days
    Did I look forth in vain, nor on the wing
    Could see them, nor in that small open space
    Of blue unfrozen water, where they lodged,
    And lived so long in quiet, side by side.                        260
    Shall we behold them, consecrated friends,
    Faithful companions, yet another year
    Surviving--they for us, and we for them--
    And neither pair be broken? Nay perchance
    It is too late already for such hope,                            265
    The Dalesmen may have aimed the deadly tube,
    And parted them; or haply both are gone
    One death, and that were mercy given to both.
    Recal my song the ungenerous thought; forgive,
    Thrice favoured Region, the conjecture harsh                     270
    Of such inhospitable penalty,
    Inflicted upon confidence so pure.
    Ah, if I wished to follow where the sight
    Of all that is before mine eyes, the voice
    Which speaks from a presiding Spirit here,                       275
    Would lead me, I should whisper to myself;
    They who are dwellers in this holy place
    Must needs themselves be hallowed, they require
    No benediction from the stranger’s lips,
    For they are blest already. None would give                      280
    The greeting “peace be with you” unto them,
    For peace they have, it cannot but be theirs,
    And mercy, and forbearance. Nay--not these,
    Their healing offices a pure goodwill
    Precludes, and charity beyond the bounds                         285
    Of charity--an overflowing love,
    Not for the creature only, but for all
    That is around them, love for every thing
    Which in this happy region they behold!
      Thus do we soothe ourselves, and when the thought              290
    Is past we blame it not for having come.
    What, if I floated down a pleasant Stream
    And now am landed, and the motion gone,
    Shall I reprove myself? Ah no, the stream
    Is flowing, and will never cease to flow,[367]                   295
    And I shall float upon that stream again.
    By such forgetfulness the soul becomes,
    Words cannot say, how beautiful. Then hail,
    Hail to the visible Presence, hail to thee,
    Delightful Valley, habitation fair!                              300
    And to whatever else of outward form
    Can give us inward help, can purify,
    And elevate, and harmonise, and soothe,
    And steal away, and for a while deceive
    And lap in pleasing rest, and bear us on                         305
    Without desire in full complacency,
    Contemplating perfection absolute
    And entertained as in a placid sleep.
      But not betrayed by tenderness of mind
    That feared, or wholly overlooked the truth,                     310
    Did we come hither, with romantic hope
    To find, in midst of so much loveliness,
    Love, perfect love; of so much majesty
    A like majestic frame of mind in those
    Who here abide, the persons like the place.                      315
    Not from such hope, or aught of such belief
    Hath issued any portion of the joy
    Which I have felt this day. An awful voice,
    ’Tis true, hath in my walks been often heard,
    Sent from the mountains or the sheltered fields;                 320
    Shout after shout--reiterated whoop
    In manner of a bird that takes delight
    In answering to itself; or like a hound
    Single at chase among the lonely woods,
    His yell repeating;[368] yet it was in truth                     325
    A human voice--a Spirit of coming night,
    How solemn when the sky is dark, and earth
    Not dark, nor yet enlightened, but by snow
    Made visible, amid a noise of winds
    And bleatings manifold of mountain sheep,                        330
    Which in that iteration recognise
    Their summons, and are gathering round for food,
    Devoured with keenness ere to grove or bank
    Or rocky _bield_ with patience they retire.
      That very voice, which, in some timid mood                     335
    Of superstitious fancy, might have seemed
    Awful as ever stray Demoniac uttered,
    His steps to govern in the Wilderness;
    Or as the Norman Curfew’s regular beat,
    To hearths when first they darkened at the knell:                340
    That Shepherd’s voice, it may have reached mine ear
    Debased and under profanation, made
    The ready Organ of articulate sounds
    From ribaldry, impiety, or wrath
    Issuing when shame hath ceased to check the brawls               345
    Of some abused Festivity--so be it.
    I came not dreaming of unruffled life,
    Untainted manners; born among the hills,
    Bred also there, I wanted not a scale
    To regulate my hopes. Pleased with the good,                     350
    I shrink not from the evil with disgust,
    Or with immoderate pain. I look for Man,
    The common creature of the brotherhood,
    Differing but little from the Man elsewhere,
    For selfishness, and envy, and revenge,                          355
    Ill neighbourhood--pity that this should be--
    Flattery and double-dealing, strife and wrong.
      Yet is it something gained, it is in truth
    A mighty gain, that Labour here preserves
    His rosy face, a servant only here                               360
    Of the fire-side, or of the open field,
    A freeman, therefore, sound and unimpaired;
    That extreme penury is here unknown,
    And cold and hunger’s abject wretchedness,
    Mortal to body, and the heaven-born mind;                        365
    That they who want, are not too great a weight
    For those who can relieve. Here may the heart
    Breathe in the air of fellow-suffering
    Dreadless, as in a kind of fresher breeze
    Of her own native element, the hand                              370
    Be ready and unwearied without plea
    From tasks too frequent, or beyond its power
    For languor, or indifference, or despair.
    And as these lofty barriers break the force
    Of winds, this deep Vale,--as it doth in part                    375
    Conceal us from the storm,--so here abides
    A power and a protection for the mind,
    Dispensed indeed to other solitudes,
    Favoured by noble privilege like this,
    Where kindred independence of estate                             380
    Is prevalent, where he who tills the field,
    He, happy man! is master of the field,[369]
    And treads the mountains which his fathers trod.
      Not less than half-way up yon Mountain’s side
    Behold a dusky spot, a grove of Firs,                            385
    That seems still smaller than it is. This grove
    Is haunted--by what ghost? a gentle spirit
    Of memory faithful to the call of love;
    For, as reports the dame, whose fire sends up
    Yon curling smoke from the grey cot below,                       390
    The trees (her first-born child being then a babe)
    Were planted by her husband and herself,
    That ranging o’er the high and houseless ground
    Their sheep might neither want (from perilous storms
    Of winter, nor from summer’s sultry heat)                        395
    A friendly covert. “And they knew it well,”
    Said she, “for thither as the trees grew up,
    We to the patient creatures carried food
    In times of heavy snow.” She then began
    In fond obedience to her private thoughts                        400
    To speak of her dead husband. Is there not
    An art, a music, and a strain of words
    That shall be like the acknowledged voice of life,
    Shall speak of what is done among the fields,
    Done truly there, or felt, of solid good                         405
    And real evil, yet be sweet withal,
    More grateful, more harmonious than the breath,
    The idle breath of softest pipe attuned
    To pastoral fancies? Is there such a stream,
    Pure and unsullied, flowing from the heart                       410
    With motions of true dignity and grace?
    Or must we seek that stream where Man is not?
    Methinks I could repeat in tuneful verse,
    Delicious as the gentlest breeze that sounds
    Through that aerial fir-grove, could preserve                    415
    Some portion of its human history
    As gathered from the Matron’s lips, and tell
    Of tears that have been shed at sight of it,
    And moving dialogues between this pair,
    Who in their prime of wedlock, with joint hands                  420
    Did plant the grove, now flourishing, while they
    No longer flourish, he entirely gone,
    She withering in her loneliness. Be this
    A task above my skill; the silent mind
    Has her own treasures, and I think of these,                     425
    Love what I see, and honour humankind.
      No, we are not alone, we do not stand,
    My Sister, here misplaced and desolate,
    Loving what no one cares for but ourselves;
    We shall not scatter through the plains and rocks                430
    Of this fair Vale, and o’er its spacious heights
    Unprofitable kindliness, bestowed
    On objects unaccustomed to the gifts
    Of feeling, which were cheerless and forlorn
    But few weeks past, and would be so again                        435
    Were we not here; we do not tend a lamp
    Whose lustre we alone participate,
    Which shines dependent upon us alone,
    Mortal though bright, a dying, dying flame.
    Look where we will, some human hand has been                     440
    Before us with its offering; not a tree
    Sprinkles these little pastures but the same
    Hath furnished matter for a thought; perchance,
    For some one, serves as a familiar friend.
    Joy spreads, and sorrow spreads; and this whole Vale,            445
    Home of untutored shepherds as it is,
    Swarms with sensation, as with gleams of sunshine,
    Shadows or breezes, scents or sounds. Nor deem
    These feelings, though subservient more than ours
    To every day’s demand for daily bread,                           450
    And borrowing more their spirit, and their shape
    From self-respecting interests, deem them not
    Unworthy therefore, and unhallowed: no,
    They lift the animal being, do themselves
    By Nature’s kind and ever-present aid                            455
    Refine the selfishness from which they spring,
    Redeem by love the individual sense
    Of anxiousness with which they are combined.
    And thus it is that fitly they become
    Associates in the joy of purest minds,                           460
    They blend therewith congenially: meanwhile,
    Calmly they breathe their own undying life
    Through this their mountain sanctuary. Long,
    Oh long may it remain inviolate,
    Diffusing health and sober cheerfulness,                         465
    And giving to the moments as they pass
    Their little boons of animating thought
    That sweeten labour, make it seen and felt
    To be no arbitrary weight imposed,
    But a glad function natural to man.                              470
      Fair proof of this, newcomer though I be,
    Already have I gained. The inward frame
    Though slowly opening, opens every day
    With process not unlike to that which cheers
    A pensive stranger, journeying at his leisure                    475
    Through some Helvetian dell, when low-hung mists
    Break up, and are beginning to recede;
    How pleased he is where thin and thinner grows
    The veil, or where it parts at once, to spy
    The dark pines thrusting forth their spiky heads;                480
    To watch the spreading lawns with cattle grazed,
    Then to be greeted by the scattered huts,
    As they shine out; and _see_ the streams whose murmur
    Had soothed his ear while _they_ were hidden: how pleased
    To have about him, which way e’er he goes,                       485
    Something on every side concealed from view,
    In every quarter something visible,
    Half-seen or wholly, lost and found again,
    Alternate progress and impediment,
    And yet a growing prospect in the main.                          490
      Such pleasure now is mine, albeit forced,
    Herein less happy than the Traveller
    To cast from time to time a painful look
    Upon unwelcome things, which unawares
    Reveal themselves; not therefore is my heart                     495
    Depressed, nor does it fear what is to come,
    But confident, enriched at every glance.
    The more I see the more delight my mind
    Receives, or by reflexion can create.
    Truth justifies herself, and as she dwells                       500
    With Hope, who would not follow where she leads?
      Nor let me pass unheeded other loves
    Where no fear is, and humbler sympathies.
    Already hath sprung up within my heart
    A liking for the small grey horse that bears                     505
    The paralytic man, and for the brute--
    In Scripture sanctified--the patient brute,
    On which the cripple, in the quarry maimed,
    Rides to and fro: I know them and their ways.[370]
    The famous sheep-dog, first in all the Vale,                     510
    Though yet to me a stranger, will not be
    A stranger long; nor will the blind man’s guide,
    Meek and neglected thing, of no renown!
    Soon will peep forth the primrose; ere it fades
    Friends shall I have at dawn, blackbird and thrush               515
    To rouse me, and a hundred warblers more;
    And if those eagles to their ancient hold
    Return, Helvellyn’s eagles! with the pair
    From my own door I shall be free to claim
    Acquaintance as they sweep from cloud to cloud.                  520
    The owl that gives the name to Owlet-Crag
    Have I heard whooping, and he soon will be
    A chosen one of my regards. See there
    The heifer in yon little croft belongs
    To one who holds it dear; with duteous care                      525
    She reared it, and in speaking of her charge
    I heard her scatter some endearing words
    Domestic, and in spirit motherly
    She being herself a Mother, happy Beast
    If the caresses of a human voice                                 530
    Can make it so, and care of human hands.
      And ye as happy under Nature’s care,
    Strangers to me, and all men, or at least
    Strangers to all particular amity,
    All intercourse of knowledge or of love                          535
    That parts the individual from his kind,
    Whether in large communities ye keep
    From year to year, not shunning Man’s abode,
    A settled residence, or be from far,
    Wild creatures, and of many homes, that come                     540
    The gift of winds, and whom the winds again
    Take from us at your pleasure--yet shall ye
    Not want, for this, your own subordinate place
    In my affections. Witness the delight
    With which erewhile I saw that multitude                         545
    Wheel through the sky, and see them now at rest,
    Yet not at rest, upon the glassy lake.
    They _cannot_ rest, they gambol like young whelps;
    Active as lambs, and overcome with joy.
    They try all frolic motions; flutter, plunge,                    550
    And beat the passive water with their wings.
    Too distant are they for plain view, but lo!
    Those little fountains, sparkling in the sun,
    Betray their occupation, rising up,
    First one and then another silver spout,                         555
    As one or other takes the fit of glee,
    Fountains and spouts, yet somewhat in the guise
    Of play-thing fire-works, that on festal nights
    Sparkle about the feet of wanton boys.
    --How vast the compass of this theatre,                          560
    Yet nothing to be seen but lovely pomp
    And silent majesty; the birch-tree woods
    Are hung with thousand thousand diamond drops
    Of melted hoar-frost, every tiny knot
    In the bare twigs, each little budding place                     565
    Cased with its several beads, what myriads there
    Upon one tree, while all the distant grove
    That rises to the summit of the steep
    Shows like a mountain built of silver light.
    See yonder the same pageant, and again                           570
    Behold the universal imagery
    Inverted, all its sun-bright features touched
    As with the varnish, and the gloss of dreams;
    Dreamlike the blending also of the whole
    Harmonious landscape; all along the shore                        575
    The boundary lost, the line invisible
    That parts the image from reality;
    And the clear hills, as high as they ascend
    Heavenward, so piercing deep the lake below.
    Admonished of the days of love to come                           580
    The raven croaks, and fills the upper air
    With a strange sound of genial harmony;[371]
    And in and all about that playful band,
    Incapable although they be of rest,
    And in their fashion very rioters,                               585
    There is a stillness, and they seem to make
    Calm revelry in that their calm abode.
    Them leaving to their joyous hours I pass,
    Pass with a thought the life of the whole year
    That is to come, the throng of woodland flowers,                 590
    And lilies that will dance upon the waves.
      Say boldly then that solitude is not
    Where these things are. He truly is alone,
    He of the multitude whose eyes are doomed
    To hold a vacant commerce day by day                             595
    With objects wanting life, repelling love;
    He by the vast Metropolis immured,
    Where pity shrinks from unremitting calls,
    Where numbers overwhelm humanity,
    And neighbourhood serves rather to divide                        600
    Than to unite. What sighs more deep than his,
    Whose nobler will hath long been sacrificed;
    Who must inhabit, under a black sky,
    A City where, if indifference to disgust
    Yield not, to scorn, or sorrow, living men                       605
    Are ofttimes to their fellow-men no more
    Than to the forest hermit are the leaves
    That hang aloft in myriads--nay, far less,
    For they protect his walk from sun and shower,
    Swell his devotion with their voice in storms,                   610
    And whisper while the stars twinkle among them
    His lullaby. From crowded streets remote,
    Far from the living and dead wilderness
    Of the thronged world, Society is here[372]
    A true Community, a genuine frame                                615
    Of many into one incorporate.
    _That_ must be looked for here, paternal sway,
    One household under God for high and low,
    One family, and one mansion; to themselves
    Appropriate, and divided from the world                          620
    As if it were a cave, a multitude
    Human and brute, possessors undisturbed
    Of this recess, their legislative hall,
    Their Temple, and their glorious dwelling-place.
      Dismissing therefore, all Arcadian dreams,                     625
    All golden fancies of the golden age,
    The bright array of shadowy thoughts from times
    That were before all time, or is to be
    Ere time expire, the pageantry that stirs
    And will be stirring when our eyes are fixed                     630
    On lovely objects, and we wish to part
    With all remembrance of a jarring world,
    --Take we at once this one sufficient hope,
    What need of more? that we shall neither droop,
    Nor pine for want of pleasure in the life                        635
    Scattered about us, nor through dearth of aught
    That keeps in health the insatiable mind;
    That we shall have for knowledge and for love
    Abundance; and that, feeling as we do
    How goodly, how exceeding fair, how pure                         640
    From all reproach is yon ethereal vault,
    And this deep vale its earthly counterpart,
    By which, and under which, we are enclosed
    To breathe in peace, we shall moreover find
    (If sound, and what we ought to be ourselves,                    645
    If rightly we observe and justly weigh)
    The inmates not unworthy of their home
    The dwellers of their dwelling.
                                  And if this
    Were otherwise, we have within ourselves
    Enough to fill the present day with joy,                         650
    And overspread the future years with hope,
    Our beautiful and quiet home, enriched
    Already with a stranger whom we love
    Deeply, a stranger of our father’s house,
    A never-resting Pilgrim of the Sea,[373]                         655
    Who finds at last an hour to his content
    Beneath our roof. And others whom we love
    Will seek us also, sisters of our hearts,[374]
    And one, like them, a brother of our hearts,
    Philosopher and Poet,[375] in whose sight                        660
    These mountains will rejoice with open joy.
    --Such is our wealth; O Vale of Peace, we are
    And must be, with God’s will, a happy band.
      Yet ’tis not to enjoy that we exist,
    For that end only; something must be done.                       665
    I must not walk in unreproved delight
    These narrow bounds, and think of nothing more,
    No duty that looks further, and no care.
    Each being has his office, lowly some
    And common, yet all worthy if fulfilled                          670
    With zeal, acknowledgment that with the gift
    Keeps pace, a harvest answering to the seed--
    Of ill-advised Ambition and of Pride
    I would stand clear, but yet to me I feel
    That an internal brightness is vouchsafed                        675
    That must not die, that must not pass away.
    Why does this inward lustre fondly seek,
    And gladly blend with outward fellowship?
    Why do _they_ shine around me whom I love?
    Why do they teach me whom I thus revere?                         680
    Strange question, yet it answers not itself.
    That humble roof embowered among the trees,
    That calm fire-side, it is not even in them,
    --Blest as they are--to furnish a reply,
    That satisfies and ends in perfect rest.                         685
    Possessions have I that are solely mine,
    Something within which yet is shared by none,
    Not even the nearest to me and most dear,
    Something which power and effort may impart,
    I would impart it, I would spread it wide,                       690
    Immortal in the world which is to come.
    Forgive me if I add another claim,
    And would not wholly perish even in this,
    Lie down and be forgotten in the dust,
    I and the modest partners of my days                             695
    Making a silent company in death;
    Love, knowledge, all my manifold delights
    All buried with me without monument
    Or profit unto any but ourselves.
    It must not be, if I, divinely taught,                           700
    Be privileged to speak as I have felt
    Of what in man is human or divine.
      While yet an innocent little-one, with a heart
    That doubtless wanted not its tender moods,
    I breathed (for this I better recollect)                         705
    Among wild appetites and blind desires,
    Motions of savage instinct, my delight
    And exaltation. Nothing at that time
    So welcome, no temptation half so dear
    As that which urged me to a daring feat.                         710
    Deep pools, tall trees, black chasms, and dizzy crags,
    And tottering towers; I loved to stand and read
    Their looks forbidding, read and disobey,
    Sometimes in act, and evermore in thought.
    With impulses that scarcely were by these                        715
    Surpassed in strength, I heard of danger, met
    Or sought with courage; enterprize forlorn
    By one, sole keeper of his own intent,
    Or by a resolute few who for the sake
    Of glory, fronted multitudes in arms.                            720
    Yea to this hour I cannot read a tale
    Of two brave vessels matched in deadly fight,
    And fighting to the death, but I am pleased
    More than a wise man ought to be. I wish,
    Fret, burn, and struggle, and in soul am there;                  725
    But me hath Nature tamed, and bade to seek
    For other agitations, or be calm;
    Hath dealt with me as with a turbulent stream,
    Some nursling of the mountains, which she leads
    Through quiet meadows, after he has learnt                       730
    His strength, and had his triumph and his joy,
    His desperate course of tumult and of glee.
    That which in stealth by Nature was performed
    Hath Reason sanctioned. Her deliberate voice
    Hath said, “Be mild and cleave to gentle things,                 735
    Thy glory and thy happiness be there.
    Nor fear, though thou confide in me, a want
    Of aspirations that _have_ been, of foes
    To wrestle with, and victory to complete,
    Bounds to be leapt, darkness to be explored,                     740
    All that inflamed thy infant heart, the love,
    The longing, the contempt, the undaunted quest,
    All shall survive--though changed their office, all
    Shall live,--it is not in their power to die.”
      Then farewell to the Warrior’s schemes, farewell               745
    The forwardness of soul which looks that way
    Upon a less incitement than the cause
    Of Liberty endangered, and farewell
    That other hope, long mine, the hope to fill
    The heroic trumpet with the Muse’s breath!                       750
    Yet in this peaceful Vale we will not spend
    Unheard-of days, though loving peaceful thoughts.
    A voice shall speak, and what will be the theme?[18]

[359] The following lines, 71-97, and 110-125, were first published in
the _Memoirs of Wordsworth_, in 1851.--ED.


    … on …


[361] The lines 152-167 were first published in the _Memoirs of
Wordsworth_ in 1851.--ED.


    Mark how the feathered tenants of the flood
    With grace of motion …



    … amid …



    They tempt the water, or …


[365] The foregoing twenty-seven lines were published under the title
_Water-Fowl_, in the 1827 edition of Wordsworth’s “Poetical Works.”
They are also printed in the fifth edition of the _Guide through the
District of the Lakes in the North of England_ (section first).--ED.

[366] Compare _Paradise Lost_, book xii. l. 646.--ED.

[367] Compare, in the _After-Thought_ to “The Duddon Sonnets”--

    Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide.


[368] Compare, in _An Evening Walk_, l. 378--

    Or yell, in the deep woods, of lonely hound.


[369] Compare Wordsworth’s numerous references to the Cumbrian and
Westmoreland “Statesmen,” in his Prose Works, and elsewhere.--ED.

[370] Compare _Peter Bell_.--ED.

[371] Compare _The Excursion_, book iv. ll. 1175-1187.--ED.

[372] Wordsworth says elsewhere that

    Solitude is blithe Society.


[373] John Wordsworth.--ED.

[374] The Hutchinsons.--ED.

[375] Coleridge.--ED.


The following lines occur in the experimental efforts made by
Wordsworth to write an autobiographical poem. They occur in one of his
sister’s Journals, entitled “May to December, 1802”; and were probably
either dictated to her in that year, or were copied by her from some
earlier fragment. They stand related to passages in _The Prelude_. (See
vol. iii. p. 269.)--ED.

    Shall he who gives his days to low pursuits
    Amid the undistinguishable crowd
    Of cities, ’mid the same eternal flow
    Of the same objects, melted and reduced
    To one identity, by differences                                    5
    That have no law, no meaning, and no end,
    Shall he feel yearning to those lifeless forms,
    And shall we think that Nature is less kind
    To those, who all day long, through a busy life,
    Have walked within her sight? It cannot be.                       10



Published in _The Morning Post_, October 10, 1803

S.T.C. writing to Tom Poole, October 14, 1803, said that Wordsworth
wrote to _The Morning Post_ “as W. L. D., and sometimes with no
signature.” There is ample evidence that the following sonnet was
written by Wordsworth. He had contributed five sonnets to _The Morning
Post_ before the month of September 1803; and on the 10th of October in
that year the following appeared.--ED.

    I find it written of Simonides,
    That, travelling in strange countries, once he found
    A corpse that lay expos’d upon the ground,
    For which, with palms, he caus’d due obsequies
    To be perform’d, and paid all holy fees.                           5
    Soon after this man’s ghost unto him came,
    And told him not to sail, as was his aim,
    On board a ship then ready for the seas.
    Simonides, admonish’d by the ghost,
    Remain’d behind: the ship the following day                       10
    Set sail, was wreck’d, and all on board were lost.
    Thus was the tenderest Poet that could be,
    Who sang in antient Greece his loving lay,
    Sav’d out of many by his piety.



Writing to Sir George Beaumont, on Christmas Day, 1804, Wordsworth
said: “We have lately built in our little rocky orchard a circular
hut, lined with moss, like a wren’s nest, and coated on the outside
with heath, that stands most charmingly, with several views from the
different sides of it, of the Lake, the Valley, and the Church.… I will
copy a dwarf inscription which I wrote for it” (_i.e._ the circular
hut, in his Orchard-Garden) “the other day before the building was
entirely finished, which indeed it is not yet.”[376]--ED.

    No whimsey of the purse is here,
    No pleasure-house forlorn;
    Use, comfort, do this roof endear;
    A tributary shed to cheer
    The little cottage that is near,
    To help it and adorn.

[376] See the _Memorials of Coleorton_, vol. i. p. 81; and Wordsworth’s
letter on the subject in a later volume of this edition.--ED.



This is extracted from a copy of an appendix to _Recollections of a
Tour in Scotland_ by Dorothy Wordsworth, written by Mrs. Clarkson,
September-November 1805. It was composed by the poet’s sister. In
February 1892 it was published in _The Monthly Packet_ under the title
“Grasmere: a Fragment,” and with the signature “Rydal Mount, September
26, 1829.” It is now printed from the MS. of 1805.--ED.

    Peaceful our valley, fair and green;
      And beautiful the cottages
    Each in its nook, its sheltered hold,
      Or underneath its tuft of trees.

    Many and beautiful they are;                                       5
      But there is one that I love best,
    A lowly roof in truth it is,
      A brother of the rest.

    Yet when I sit on rock or hill
      Down-looking on the valley fair,                                10
    That cottage with its grove of trees
      Summons my heart; it settles there.

    Others there are whose small domain
      Of fertile fields with hedgerows green
    Might more seduce the traveller’s mind                            15
      To wish that there his home had been.

    Such wish be his! I blame him not,
      My fancies they, perchance, are wild;
    I love that house because it is
      The very mountain’s child.                                      20

    Fields hath it of its own, green fields;
      But they are craggy, steep, and bare;
    Their fence is of the mountain stone,
      And moss and lichen flourish there.

    And when the storm comes from the North                           25
      It lingers near that pastoral spot,
    And piping through the mossy walls,
      It seems delighted with its lot.

    And let it take its own delight,
      And let it range the pastures bare                              30
    Until it reach that grove of trees
      ----It may not enter there!

    A green unfading grove it is,
      Skirted with many a lesser tree,
    Hazel and holly, beech and oak,                                   35
      A fair and flourishing company!

    Precious the shelter of those trees!
      They screen the cottage that I love;
    The sunshine pierces to the roof
      And the tall pine trees tower above.                            40

    When first I saw that dear abode
      It was a lovely winter’s day:
    After a night of perilous storm
      The West wind ruled with gentle sway;

    A day so mild, it might have been                                 45
      The first day of the gladsome spring;
    The robins warbled; and I heard
      One solitary throstle sing:

    A stranger in the neighbourhood,
      All faces then to me unknown,                                    50
    I left my sole companion-friend
      To wander out alone.

    Lur’d by a little winding path,
      I quitted soon the public road,
    A smooth and tempting path it was                                 55
      By sheep and shepherds trod.

    Eastward, toward the mighty hills
      This pathway led me on,
    Until I reach’d a lofty Rock
      With velvet moss o’ergrown.                                      60

    With russet Oak and tufts of Fern
      Its top was richly garlanded;
    Its sides adorn’d with Eglantine
      Bedropp’d with hips of glossy red.

    There too in many a shelter’d chink                               65
      The foxglove’s broad leaves flourish’d fair,
    And silver birch whose purple twigs
      Bend to the softest breathing air.

    Beneath that rock my course I stay’d
      And, looking to its summit high,                                 70
    “Thou wear’st,” said I, “a splendid garb,
      Here winter keeps his revelry.

    “I’ve been a dweller on the plains,
      Have sigh’d when summer days were gone;
    No more I’ll sigh; for winter here                                75
      Hath gladsome gardens of his own.

    “What need of flowers? The splendid moss
      Is gayer than an April mead;
    More rich its hues of various green,
      Orange and gold and glowing red.”                               80

    ----Beside that gay and lovely rock
      There came with merry voice
    A foaming streamlet glancing by,
      It seem’d to say “Rejoice!”

    My youthful wishes all fulfill’d,                                 85
      Wishes matured by thoughtful choice,
    I stood an Inmate of this vale,
      How could I but rejoice?


The following two stanzas were added by Wordsworth to his sister’s
poem, entitled _The Cottager to her Infant_--composed in 1805, and
issued in 1815 (see vol. iii. pp. 74, 75); but they were never
published in Wordsworth’s lifetime.--ED.

    Ah! if I were a lady gay
    I should not grieve with thee to play;
    Right gladly would I lie awake
    Thy lively spirits to partake,
      And ask no better cheer.                                         5

    But, Babe! there’s none to work for me,
    And I must rise to industry;
    Soon as the cock begins to crow
    Thy mother to the fold must go
      To tend the sheep and kine.                                     10



                                The Lake is thine,
    The mountains too are thine, some clouds there are,
    Some little feeble stars, but all is thine,
    Thou, thou art king, and sole proprietor.

    A moon among her stars, a mighty vale,                             5
    Fresh as the freshest field, scoop’d out, and green
    As is the greenest billow of the sea.

    The multitude of little rocky hills,
    Rocky or green, that do like islands rise
    From the flat meadow lonely there.                                10
    Embowering mountains, and the dome of Heaven
    And waters in the midst, a Second Heaven.


In the first volume of a copy of the edition of 1836,--long kept by
Wordsworth at Rydal Mount, and afterwards the property of the late Lord
Coleridge--which has been referred to in the Preface to Vol. 1., and
very often in the footnotes to all the volumes, signed C.--Wordsworth
wrote in MS. two translations of a fragment of Michael Angelo’s on
Sleep, and a translation of some Latin verses by Thomas Warton on the
same subject. These fragments were never included in any edition of his
published works, and it is impossible to say to what year they belong.
From their close relation to other translations from Michael Angelo,
made by Wordsworth in 1806, I assign them, conjecturally, to the same
year. The title is from Wordsworth’s own MS.--ED.


    Grateful is Sleep, my life, in stone bound fast,
    More grateful still: while wrong and shame shall last,
    On me can Time no happier state bestow
    Than to be left unconscious of the woe.
    Ah then, lest you awaken me, speak low.                            5


    Grateful is Sleep, more grateful still to be
    Of marble; for while shameless wrong and woe
    Prevail, ’tis best to neither hear nor see.
    Then wake me not, I pray you. Hush, speak low.


    Come, gentle Sleep, Death’s image tho’ thou art,
    Come share my couch, nor speedily depart;
    How sweet thus living without life to lie,
    Thus without death how sweet it is to die.

The Latin verse by Thomas Warton, of which these lines are a
translation, is as follows:--

    Somne veni! quamvis placidissima Mortis imago es,
      Consortem cupio te tamen esse tori;
    Hue ades, haud abiture citò! nam sic sine vita
      Vivere quam suave est, sic sine morte mori!

Thomas Warton, Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, and Professor of
Poetry in that University, is chiefly known by his _History of English
Poetry_ (1774-1781).--ED.


The following version of the sonnet beginning “Brook! whose society the
Poet seeks,” probably written in 1806 and first published in 1815 (see
vol. iv. p. 52), has come to light since that volume was issued. The
variants throughout are sufficient to warrant its publication here. Had
I received it earlier they would have appeared in vol. iv.--ED.

    Brook, that hast been my solace days and weeks,
    And months, and let me add the long year through,
    I come to thee, thou dost my heart renew;
    O happy Thing! among thy flowery creeks,
    And happy, dancing down thy water-breaks:                          5
    If I some type of thee did wish to view,
    Thee, and not thee thyself, I would not do
    Like Grecian Poets, give thee human cheeks,
    Channels for tears! No Naiad should’st thou be;
    Have neither wings, feet, feathers, joints, nor hairs.            10
    It seems the Eternal Soul is clothed in thee
    With purer robes than those of flesh and blood,
    And hath bestowed on thee a better good;
    The joy of fleshly life without its cares.


The date of this is unknown, and the original MS. is difficult to
decipher. It is here and there illegible. It may belong to the year
of the “Ecclesiastical Sonnets,” but I place it beside the other
translation from Michael Angelo.--ED.

    Rid of a vexing and a heavy load,
    Eternal Lord! and from the world set free,
    Like a frail Bark, weary I turn to Thee,--
    From frightful storms into a quiet road.
    On much repentance Grace will be bestow’d.                         5
    The nails, the thorns, and thy two hands, thy face
    Benign, meek, …, offers grace
    To sinners whom their sins oppress and goad.
    Let not thy justice view, O Light Divine,
    My fault, and keep it from thy sacred ear.                        10
    Cleanse with thy blood my sins, to this incline
    More readily, the more my years require
    Prompt aid, forgiveness speedy and entire.



Composed 1808.--Published 1839

This poem was first printed in De Quincey’s “Recollections of
Grasmere,” which appeared in _Tait’s Edinburgh Magazine_, September
1839, p. 573, and afterwards in his _Recollections of the Lakes_
(1853), p. 23.

The text is printed as it is found in De Quincey’s article. Doubtless
Wordsworth, or some member of the family, had supplied him with a
copy of these verses. Wordsworth himself seemed to have thought them
unworthy of publication. A copy of the poem was transcribed at Grasmere
by Dorothy Wordsworth for Lady Beaumont on the 20th April 1808. In
this copy there are numerous variations from the text as published by
De Quincey, and these are indicated in the footnotes. In the letter to
Lady Beaumont, Dorothy Wordsworth says, “I am going to transcribe a
poem composed by my brother a few days after his return. It was begun
in the churchyard when he was looking at the grave of the Husband and
Wife, and is in fact supposed to be entirely composed there.”

Wordsworth returned to his old home at Dove Cottage, Grasmere, after a
short visit to London, on the 6th April 1808; and there he remained,
till Allan Bank was ready for occupation. I therefore conclude that
this poem was written in April 1808.

Compare De Quincey’s account of the disaster that befell the Greens, as
reported in his _Early Recollections of Grasmere_. The Wordsworths had
evidently taken part in the effort to raise subscriptions in behalf of
the orphan children. They issued a printed appeal on the subject. The
following is an extract from a letter of Dorothy Wordsworth’s to Lady
Beaumont on the subject:--

                                    “GRASMERE, _April 20th, 1808_.

    “We received your letter this morning, enclosing the half of a
    £5 note. I am happy to inform you that the orphans have been
    fixed under the care of very respectable people. The baby is
    with its sister--she who filled the Mother’s place in the house
    during their two days of fearless solitude. It has clung to her
    ever since, and she has been its sole nurse. I went with two
    ladies of the Committee (in my sister’s place, who was then
    confined to poor John’s bedside) to conduct the family to their
    separate homes. The two Girls are together, as I have said; two
    Boys at another Home; and the third Boy by himself at the house
    of an elderly man who had a particular friendship for their
    father. The kind reception that the children met with was very

See the letters from Wordsworth to Richard Sharpe, Esq., Mark Lane,
London, in a subsequent volume, referring to the catastrophe.--ED.

    Who weeps for strangers? Many wept
      For George and Sarah Green;
    Wept for that pair’s unhappy fate,
      Whose grave may here be seen.[377]

    By night, upon these stormy fells,[378]                            5
      Did wife and husband roam;
    Six little ones at home had left,
      And could not find that home.[379]

    For _any_ dwelling-place of man
      As vainly did they seek.                                        10
    He perish’d; and a voice was heard--
      The widow’s lonely shriek.[380]

    Not many steps, and she was left[381]
      A body without life--
    A few short steps were the chain that bound[382]                  15
      The husband to the wife.[383]

    Now do those[384] sternly-featured hills
      Look gently on this grave;
    And quiet now are the depths[385] of air,
      As a sea without a wave.                                        20

    But deeper lies the heart of peace
      In quiet more profound;[386]
    The heart of quietness is here
      Within this churchyard bound.[387]

    And from all agony of mind                                        25
      It keeps them safe, and far
    From fear and grief, and from all need
      Of sun or guiding star.[388]

    O darkness of the grave! how deep,[389]
      After that living night--                                       30
    That last and dreary living one
      Of sorrow and affright!

    O sacred marriage-bed of death,
      That keeps[390] them side by side
    In bond of peace, in bond of love,[391]                           35
      That may not be untied!

[377] 1839.

    Wept for that Pair’s unhappy end,
    Whose Grave may here be seen.

    MS. letter of Dorothy Wordsworth’s.

[378] 1839.

    … these stormy Heights,


[379] 1839.

    Six little ones the Pair had left,
    And could not find their home.


[380] 1839.

    Down the dark precipice he fell,
      And she was left alone,
    Not long to think of her children dear,
      Not long to pray, or groan.

    Added in MS.

[381] 1839.

    A few wild steps--she too was left,


[382] 1839.

    The chain of but a few wild steps.

    MS. in Dorothy Wordsworth’s handwriting--sent to Lady Beaumont.

[383] 1839.

Four stanzas are here added in MS., only one of which need be given--

    Our peace is of the immortal soul,
      Our anguish is of clay;
    Such bounty is in Heaven: so pass
      The bitterest pangs away.

[384] 1839.

    Now do the …


[385] 1839.

    … is the depth …


[386] 1839.

    In shelter more profound.


[387] 1839.

    … ground.


[388] 1839.

    From fear, and from all need of hope
      From sun or guiding star.


[389] 1839.

    … how calm,


[390] 1839.

    That holds …


[391] 1839.

    In bond of love, in bond of God,




    The Scottish Broom on Bird-nest brae[393]
    Twelve tedious years ago,
    When many plants strange blossoms bore
    That puzzled high and low,
    A not unnatural longing felt,                                      5
    What longing would ye know?
    Why, friend, to deck her supple twigs
    With _yellow_ in full blow.

    To Lowther Castle she addressed
    A prayer both bold and sly,                                       10
    (For all the Brooms on Bird-nest brae
    Can talk and speechify)
    That flattering breezes blowing thence
    Their succour would supply,
    Then she would instantly put forth                                15
    A flag of _yellow_ dye.

    But from the Castle turret blew
    A chill forbidding blast,
    Which the poor Broom no sooner felt
    Than she shrank up so fast;                                       20
    Her _wished-for_ yellow she forswore,
    And since that time has cast
    Fond looks on colours three or four
    And put forth _Blue_ at last.
    And now, my lads, the Election comes                              25
    In June’s sunshining hours,
    When every field and bank and brae
    Is clad with yellow flowers.
    While faction Blue from shops and booths
    Tricks out her blustering powers,                                 30
    Lo! smiling Nature’s lavish hand
    Has furnished wreaths for ours.

[392] “Written, in my opinion, at the General Election of 1818.”--(The
Rev. Thomas Hutchinson of Kimbolton.)

[393] “Bird-nest” was the old name of Brougham Hall.--ED.


Wordsworth was deeply interested in the successive parliamentary
elections for Westmoreland (see his “Addresses to the Freeholders of
Westmorland, 1818,” in the Prose Works.) He particularly disliked
Lord Brougham’s candidature. The following squib is in MS. at Lowther
Castle. He wrote on the MS.--“For a version of part of B.’s famous
London Tower Speech see opposite page.”--ED.

    If money’s slack,
    The shirt on my back
    Shall off, and go to the hammer:
    Though I sell shirt and skin
    By Jove I’ll be in,
    And raise up a radical clamor!


I have found this in a catalogue of Autograph Letters, and have no
knowledge of its date, or of the Bard referred to. Solomon Gesner wrote
a poem on _The Death of Abel_, which was translated into English. See
footnote to _The Prelude_, book vii. l. 564.--ED.

    “Critics, right honourable Bard, decree
    Laurels to some, a night-shade wreath to thee,
    Whose muse a sure though late revenge hath ta’en
    Of harmless Abel’s death, by murdering Cain.”

On Cain, a Mystery, dedicated to Sir Walter Scott:--

    “A German Haggis from receipt
    Of him who cooked the death of Abel,
    And sent ‘warm-reeking, rich and sweet,’
    From Venice to Sir Walter’s table.”



In 1819 Wordsworth wrote the sonnet beginning, “Grief, thou hast lost
an ever ready friend.” In the note to that sonnet (vol. vi. p. 196)
I have given a different version of its last six lines, from a MS.
sonnet. But as these six lines also form the conclusion of another
unpublished sonnet, it may be given in full by itself, in this

    Through Cumbrian wilds, in many a mountain cove,
    The pastoral Muse laments the Wheel--no more
    Engaged, near blazing hearth on clean-swept floor,
    In tasks which guardian Angels might approve,
    Friendly the weight of leisure to remove,                          5
    And to beguile the lassitude of ease;
    Gracious to all the dear dependencies
    Of house and field,--to plenty, peace, and love.
    There too did _Fancy_ prize the murmuring wheel;
    For sympathies, inexplicably fine,                                10
    Instilled a confidence--how sweet to feel!
    That ever in the night-calm, when the Sheep
    Upon their grassy beds lay couch’d in sleep,
    The quickening spindle drew a trustier line.


The following sonnet occurs after the above in the same MS. whence both
are extracted.--ED.

    My Son! behold the tide already spent
    That rose, and steadily advanced to fill
    The shores and channels, working Nature’s will
    Among the mazy streams that backward went,
    And in the sluggish Ports where ships were pent.                   5
    And now, its task performed, the flood stands still
    At the green base of many an inland hill,
    In placid beauty and entire content.
    Such the repose that Sage and Hero find,
    Such measured rest the diligent and good                          10
    Of humbler name, whose souls do like the flood
    Of ocean press right on, or gently wind,
    Neither to be diverted nor withstood
    Until they reach the bounds by Heaven assigned.




    The confidence of Youth our only Art,
    And Hope gay Pilot of the bold design,
    We saw the living Landscapes of the Rhine,
    Reach after reach, salute us and depart;
    Slow sink the Spires,--and up again they start!                    5
    But who shall count the Towers as they recline
    O’er the dark steeps, or in the horizon line
    Striding, with shattered crests, the eye athwart?
    More touching still, more perfect was the pleasure,
    When hurrying forward till the slack’ning stream                  10
    Spread like a spacious Mere, we there could measure
    A smooth free course along the watery gleam,
    Think calmly on the past, and mark at leisure
    Features which else had vanished like a dream.

This sonnet was published in the first edition of the Memorials of
this Tour (1822), but was struck out of the next edition, and never
republished. Its rejection by Wordsworth is curious.

It refers to the pedestrian tour which the Poet took, with his
friend Jones, in 1790, which he afterwards recorded in full in his
_Descriptive Sketches_.

Dorothy Wordsworth, in her Journal of the Tour in 1820, refers to it
thus:--“Our journey through the narrower and most romantic passages
of the Vale of the Rhine was connected with times long past, when my
brother and his Friend (it was thirty years ago) floated down the
stream in their little Bark. Often did my fancy place them with a
freight of happiness in the centre of some bending reach, overlooked
by tower or castle, or (when expectation would be most eager) at the
turning of a promontory, which had concealed from their view some
delicious winding which we had left behind; but no more of my own
feelings, a record of his will be more interesting.”

She then quotes the sonnet, beginning

    The confidence of Youth our only Art.

There are also numerous allusions in Mrs. Wordsworth’s Journal to
this early tour; _e.g._ under date August 13. “We left Meyringen;
soon reached a sort of Hotel, which Wm. pointed out to us with great
interest, as being the only spot where he and his friend Jones were ill
used, during the course of their adventurous journey--a wild looking
building, a little removed from the road, where the vale of Hasli
ends.” Again, in describing the sunset from the woody hill Colline de
Gibet, overlooking the two lakes of Brienz and Thun, at Interlaken,
“with the loveliest of green vallies between us and Jungfrau,” “Surely
William must have had this Paradise in his thoughts when he began his
_Descriptive Sketches_--

    Were there, below, a spot of holy ground,
    By Pain and her sad family unfound, etc.

But no habitation was there among these rocky knolls, and tiny
pastures. One fragment, something like a ruined convent, lurked under
a steep, woody-fringed crag. What a Refuge for a pious Sisterhood!”
Compare also the note to _Stanzas composed in the Simplon Pass_, vol.
vi. p. 359.--ED.



In the _Memoirs of William Wordsworth_ by his nephew (the late Bishop
of Lincoln) vol. i. chap. xxx. the following occurs as an addendum
transferred to the footnotes:--

“The first six lines of an epitaph in Grasmere Church were also his
composition. The elegant marble tablet on which they were engraved was
designed by Sir Francis Chantry, and prepared by Allan Cunningham,
1822. It is over the chancel door.”

The following is the Inscription:--

                         In the Burial Ground
              of this Church are deposited the remains of
                         JEMIMA ANNE DEBORAH,
                          second daughter of
           Sir Egerton Brydges, of Denton Court, Kent, Bart.
           She departed this life at the Ivy Cottage, Rydal,
                     May 25th 1822, aged 28 years.
                This memorial is erected by her husband

                           EDWARD QUILLINAN.

The entire sonnet, of which Wordsworth wrote the “first six lines,” is
as follows:--

    These vales were saddened with no common gloom
    When good Jemima perished in her bloom;
    When, such the awful will of heaven, she died
    By flames breathed on her from her own fireside.
    On earth we dimly see, and but in part                             5
    We know, yet faith sustains the sorrowing heart;
    And she, the pure, the patient and the meek,
    Might have fit epitaph could feelings speak;
    If words could tell and monuments record,
    How Treasures lost are inwardly deplored,                         10
    No name by grief’s fond eloquence adorned
    More than Jemima’s would be praised and mourned.
    The tender virtues of her blameless life,
    Bright in the daughter, brighter in the wife,
    And in the cheerful mother brightest shone,--                     15
    That light hath past away--the will of God[394] be done.


    … of Heaven …



Composed 1823 (?).--Published 1836

This translation was included in the _Philological Museum_, edited
by Julius Charles Hare, and published at Cambridge in 1832 (vol. i.
p. 382, etc.). Three Books were translated by Wordsworth, but the
greater portion is still in MS., unpublished. What is now reproduced
appeared in the _Museum_. As it was never included by Wordsworth
himself in any edition of his Works, his own estimate of its literary
value was slight. It was published by Professor Henry Reed in his
American reprint of 1851. Writing to Lord Lonsdale on 9th Nov. 1823,
Wordsworth says, “I have just finished a Translation into English rhyme
of the First _Æneid_. Would you allow me to send it to you? I would
be much gratified if you would take the trouble of comparing some
passages with the original. I have endeavoured to be much more literal
than Dryden, or Pitt--who keeps more close to the original than his


    Your letter, reminding me of an expectation I some time since
    held out to you of allowing some specimens of my translation
    from the _Æneid_ to be printed in the _Philological Museum_
    was not very acceptable; for I had abandoned the thought of
    ever sending into the world any part of that experiment,--for
    it was nothing more,--an experiment begun for amusement, and I
    now think a less fortunate one than when I first named it to
    you. Having been displeased in modern translations with the
    additions of incongruous matter, I began to translate with a
    resolve to keep clear of that fault, by adding nothing; but
    I became convinced that a spirited translation can scarcely
    be accomplished in the English language without admitting a
    principle of compensation. On this point, however, I do not
    wish to insist, and merely send the following passage, taken at
    random, from a wish to comply with your request.--W.W.

      But Cytherea, studious to invent
    Arts yet untried, upon new counsels bent,
    Resolves that Cupid, chang’d in form and face
    To young Ascanius, should assume his place;
    Present the maddening gifts, and kindle heat                       5
    Of passion at the bosom’s inmost seat.
    She dreads the treacherous house, the double tongue;
    She burns, she frets--by Juno’s rancour stung;
    The calm of night is powerless to remove
    These cares, and thus she speaks to wingèd Love:                  10

      “O son, my strength, my power! who dost despise
    (What, save thyself, none dares through earth and skies)
    The giant-quelling bolts of Jove, I flee,
    O son, a suppliant to thy deity!
    What perils meet Æneas in his course,                             15
    How Juno’s hate with unrelenting force
    Pursues thy brother--this to thee is known;
    And oft-times hast thou made my griefs thine own.
    Him now the generous Dido by soft chains
    Of bland entreaty at her court detains;                           20
    Junonian hospitalities prepare
    Such apt occasion that I dread a snare.
    Hence, ere some hostile God can intervene,
    Would I, by previous wiles, inflame the queen
    With passion for Æneas, such strong love                          25
    That at my beck, mine only, she shall move.
    Hear, and assist;--the father’s mandate calls
    His young Ascanius to the Tyrian walls;
    He comes, my dear delight,--and costliest things
    Preserv’d from fire and flood for presents brings.                30
    Him will I take, and in close covert keep,
    ’Mid groves Idalian, lull’d to gentle sleep,
    Or on Cythera’s far-sequestered steep,
    That he may neither know what hope is mine,
    Nor by his presence traverse the design.                          35
    Do thou, but for a single night’s brief space,
    Dissemble; be that boy in form and face!
    And when enraptured Dido shall receive
    Thee to her arms, and kisses interweave
    With many a fond embrace, while joy runs high,                    40
    And goblets crown the proud festivity,
    Instil thy subtle poison, and inspire,
    At every touch, an unsuspected fire.”

      Love, at the word, before his mother’s sight
    Puts off his wings, and walks, with proud delight,                45
    Like young Iulus; but the gentlest dews
    Of slumber Venus sheds, to circumfuse
    The true Ascanius steep’d in placid rest;
    Then wafts him, cherish’d on her careful breast,
    Through upper air to an Idalian glade,                            50
    Where he on soft _amaracas_ is laid,
    With breathing flowers embraced, and fragrant shade.
    But Cupid, following cheerily his guide
    Achates, with the gifts to Carthage hied;
    And, as the hall he entered, there, between                       55
    The sharers of her golden couch, was seen
    Reclin’d in festal pomp the Tyrian queen.
    The Trojans, too (Æneas at their head),
    On couches lie, with purple overspread:
    Meantime in canisters is heap’d the bread,                        60
    Pellucid water for the hands is borne,
    And napkins of smooth texture, finely shorn.
    Within are fifty handmaids, who prepare,
    As they in order stand, the dainty fare;
    And fume the household deities with store                         65
    Of odorous incense; while a hundred more
    Match’d with an equal number of like age,
    But each of manly sex, a docile page,
    Marshal the banquet, giving with due grace
    To cup or viand its appointed place.                              70
    The Tyrians rushing in, an eager band,
    Their painted couches seek, obedient to command.
    They look with wonder on the gifts--they gaze
    Upon Iulus, dazzled with the rays
    That from his ardent countenance are flung,                       75
    And charm’d to hear his simulating tongue;
    Nor pass unprais’d the robe and veil divine,
    Round which the yellow flowers and wandering foliage twine.

      But chiefly Dido, to the coming ill
    Devoted, strives in vain her vast desires to fill;                80
    She views the gifts; upon the child then turns
    Insatiable looks, and gazing burns.
    To ease a father’s cheated love he hung
    Upon Æneas, and around him clung;
    Then seeks the queen; with her his arts he tries;                 85
    She fastens on the boy enamour’d eyes,
    Clasps in her arms, nor weens (O lot unblest!)
    How great a God, incumbent o’er her breast,
    Would fill it with his spirit. He, to please
    His Acidalian mother, by degrees                                  90
    Blots out Sichaeus, studious to remove
    The dead, by influx of a living love,
    By stealthy entrance of a perilous guest.
    Troubling a heart that had been long at rest.

      Now when the viands were withdrawn, and ceas’d                  95
    The first division of the splendid feast,
    While round a vacant board the chiefs recline,
    Huge goblets are brought forth; they crown the wine;
    Voices of gladness roll the walls around;
    Those gladsome voices from the courts rebound;                   100
    From gilded rafters many a blazing light
    Depends, and torches overcome the night.
    The minutes fly--till, at the queen’s command,
    A bowl of state is offered to her hand:
    Then she, as Belus wont, and all the line                        105
    From Belus, filled it to the brim with wine;
    Silence ensued. “O Jupiter, whose care
    Is hospitable dealing, grant my prayer!
    Productive day be this of lasting joy
    To Tyrians, and these exiles driven from Troy;                   110
    A day to future generations dear!
    Let Bacchus, donor of soul-quick’ning cheer,
    Be present; kindly Juno, be thou near!
    And, Tyrians, may your choicest favours wait
    Upon this hour, the bond to celebrate!”                          115
    She spake and shed an offering on the board;
    Then sipp’d the bowl whence she the wine had pour’d
    And gave to Bitias, urging the prompt lord;
    He rais’d the bowl, and took a long deep draught;
    Then every chief in turn the beverage quaff’d.                   120

      Graced with redundant hair, Iopas sings
    The lore of Atlas, to resounding strings,
    The labours of the Sun, the lunar wanderings;
    Whence human kind, and brute; what natural powers
    Engender lightning, whence are falling showers.                  125
    He haunts Arcturus,--that fraternal twain
    The glittering Bears,--the Pleiads fraught with rain;
    --Why suns in winter, shunning heaven’s steep heights
    Post seaward,--what impedes the tardy nights.
    The learned song from Tyrian hearers draws                       130
    Loud shouts,--the Trojans echo the applause.
    --But, lengthening out the night with converse new,
    Large draughts of love unhappy Dido drew;
    Of Priam ask’d, of Hector--o’er and o’er--
    What arms the son of bright Aurora wore;--                       135
    What steeds the car of Diomed could boast;
    Among the leaders of the Grecian host
    How look’d Achilles, their dread paramount--
    “But nay--the fatal wiles, O guest, recount,
    Retrace the Grecian cunning from its source,                     140
    Your own grief and your friends’--your wandering course;
    For now, till this seventh summer have ye rang’d
    The sea, or trod the earth, to peace estrang’d.”



The following version of the first few lines of the _Æneid_ were copied
by Professor Reed of Philadelphia, with Mrs. Wordsworth’s permission,
during a visit to Rydal Mount in 1854, four years after the poet’s
death. Mrs. Reed kindly sent them to me.--ED.

    Arms and the Man I sing, the first who bore
    His course to Latium from the Trojan shore,
    A fugitive of fate. Long time was he
    By powers celestial tossed on land and sea
    Thro’ wrathful Juno’s far-famed enmity;
    Much too from war endured till new abodes
    He planted, and in Latium fixed his Gods,
    Whence flows the Latin people, whence have come
    The Alban Sites and walls of lofty Rome.




    A twofold harmony is here;
    I listen with the bodily ear,
    But dull and cheerless is the sound
    Contrasted with the heart’s rebound.

    Now at the close of fervid June,                                   5
    Upon this breathless hazy noon,
    I seek the deepest darkest shade
    Within the covert of that glade,

    Which you and I first named our own
    When primroses were fully blown,                                  10
    Oaks just were budding, and the grove
    Rang with the gladdest songs of love.

    Then did the Leader of the Band,
    A gallant thrush, maintain his stand
    Unshrouded from the eye of day                                    15
    Upon yon Beech’s topmost spray.

    Within the selfsame lofty tree
    A thrush sings now--perchance ’tis he--
    The lusty joyous gallant bird,
    Which on that April morn we heard.                                20

    But oh! how different that voice
    Which bade the very hills rejoice.
    Through languid air, through leafy boughs
    It falls, and can no echo rouse.

    But on the workings of my heart                                   25
    Doth memory act a busy part;
    That jocund April morn lives there,
    Its cheering sounds, its hues so fair.

    Why mixes with remembrance blithe
    What nothing but the restless scythe                              30
    Of Death can utterly destroy,
    A heaviness, a dull alloy?

    Ah Friend! thy heart can answer why.
    Even then I heaved a bitter sigh,
    No word of sorrow did’st thou speak,                              35
    But tears stole down thy tremulous cheek.

    The wished for hour at length was come,
    And thou had’st housed me in thy home,
    On fair Gwerndwffnant’s billowy hill,
    Had’st led me to its crystal rill,                                40

    And led me through the dingle deep
    Up to the highest grassy steep,
    The sheep walk where the snow-white lambs
    Sported beside their quiet dams.

    But thou wert destined to remove                                  45
    From all these objects of thy love,
    In this thy later day to roam
    Far off, and seek another home.

    _Now_ thou art gone--belike ’tis best--
    And I remain a passing guest,                                     50
    Yet for thy sake, beloved Friend,
    When from this spot my way shall tend,

    And if my timid soul might dare
    To shape the future in its prayer,
    Then fervently would I entreat                                    55
    Our gracious God to guide thy feet
    Back to the peaceful sunny cot,
    Where thou so oft hast blessed thy lot.

[395] I owe my knowledge of this and the following poem to the nephew
of Mrs. Wordsworth, the Reverend Thomas Hutchinson of Kimbolton,
Herefordshire, who wrote: “The two following poems were found among his
papers on the demise of Mr. Monkhouse--a first cousin of Wordsworth;
the first in the hand-writing of Wordsworth’s wife, and the second of
her daughter.”--ED.




    You’re here for one long vernal day;
    We’ll give it all to social play,
    Though forty years have rolled away
        Since we were young as you.

    Then welcome to our spacious Hall!                                 5
    Tom, Bessy, Mary, welcome all!
    Though removed from busy men,
    Yea lonesome as the foxes’ den,
    ’Tis a place for joyance fit,
    For frolic games and inborn wit.                                  10

    ’Twas nature built this hall of ours;
    She shap’d the bank; she framed the bowers
        That close it all around;
    From her we hold our precious right,
    And here, thro’ live-long day and night,                          15
        She rules with modest sway.

    Our carpet is our verdant sod;
    A richer one was never trod
        In prince’s proud saloon.
    Purple, and gold, and spotless white,                             20
    And quivering shade, and sunny light,
        Blend with the emerald green.

    She opened for the mountain brook
        A gentle winding pebbly way
    Into this placid secret nook.                                     25
    Its bell-like tinkling--list, you hear--
    ’Tis never loud, yet always clear
        As linnet’s song in May.

    And we have other music here:
    A thousand songsters through the year                             30
    Dwell in these happy groves,
    And in this season of their loves
    They join their voices with the doves
        To raise a perfect harmony.

    Thus spake I while with sober pace                                35
    We slipped into that chosen place
    And from the centre of our Hall
        The young ones played around,
    Then, like a flock of vigorous lambs,
    That quit their grave and slow-paced dams                         40
        To frolic o’er the mead,

    That innocent fraternal troop
    Erewhile a steady listening group
        Off starting--Girl and Boy
    In gamesome race with agile bound                                 45
    Beat o’er and o’er the grassy ground
        As if in motion--perfect joy.

    So vanishes my idle scheme
    That we through this long vernal day,
        Associates in their youthful play,                            50
    With them might travel in one stream.
        Ah! how should we whose heads are grey?
    Light was my heart, my spirits gay,
        And fondly did I dream.

    But now, recalled to consciousness,                               55
    With weight of years, of changed estate,
    Thought is not needed to repress
    Those shapeless fancies of delight
    That flash before my dazzled sight
        Upon this joy-devoted morn.                                   60

    Gladly we seek the stillest nook
    Whence we may read, as in a book,
    A history of years gone by,
    Recalled to faded memory’s eye
    By bright reflection from the mirth                               65
    Of youthful hearts--a transient second-birth
        Of our own childish days.

    Pleasure unbidden is their guide
    Their leader--faithful to their side
    Prompting each wayward feat of strength:                          70
    The ambitious leap, the emulous race,
    The startling shout, the mimic chase,
    The simple half-disguisèd wile
    Detected through the flattering smile.

    A truce to this unbridled course                                  75
    Doth intervene--no need of force.
    We spread upon the flowery grass
    The noontide meal--each lad and lass
    Obeys the call--we form a Round,
    And all are seated on the ground.                                 80

    The sun’s meridian hour is passed,
    Again begins the emulous race,
    Again succeeds the sportive chase.
    And thus was spent that vernal day,
    Till twilight checked the noisy play;                             85
    Then did they feel a languor spread
    Over their limbs, the beating tread
    Was stilled--the busy throbbing heart--
        And silently we all depart.

    The shelter of our rustic cot                                     90
    Receives us, and we envy not
    The palace, or the stately dome;
    But wish that _all_ had such a home.
    Each child repeats his nightly prayer
    That God may bless their parents’ care                            95
    To guide them in the way of truth
    Through helpless childhood, giddy youth.

    The closing hymn of cheerful praise
    Doth yet again their spirits raise;
    But ’tis not now a thoughtless joy.                              100
    For tender parents, loving friends,
    And all the gifts God’s blessing sends,
    Feelingly do they bless his name.

    That homage paid, the young retire
    With no unsatisfied desire;                                      105
    Theirs is one long, one steady sleep,
    Till the sun, tip-toe on the steep
    In front of our beloved cot,
    Casts on the walls her brightest beams.
    Within, a startling lustre streams.                              110
    They all awaken suddenly;
    As at the touch of magic skill,
    Or, as the pilgrim, at the bell
        That summons him to matin-prayer.

    And is it sorrow that they feel?                                 115
    Nay! call it not by such a name,
    The stroke of sadness that doth steal
    With rapid motion through their hearts,
    When comes the thought that yesterday
    With all its joys is passed away,                                120
        The long expected happy day.

    An instant--and all sadness goes;
    Nor brighter looks the half-blown rose
    Than does the countenance of each child
    Whether of ardent soul or mild.                                  125
    The hour was fixed--they are prepared--
    And homeward now they must depart,
    And after many a brisk adieu,
    On pony trim, and fleet of limb,
    Their bustling journey they pursue.                              130

    The fair-hair’d gentle quiet maid,
    And she who is of daring mood,
    The valiant and the timid Boy
    Alike are ranged to hardihood;
    And wheresoe’er the troop appear                                 135
    They scatter smiles, a hearty cheer
    Comes from both old and young,
    And blessings fall from many a tongue.

    They reach the dear paternal roof,
    Nor dread a cold or stern reproof,                               140
    While they pour forth the history
    Of three days’ mirth and revelry.
    Ah! Children, happy is your lot,
    Still bound together in one knot
    Beneath your tender mother’s eye!                                145
    Too soon these blessed days shall fly,
    And brothers shall from sisters part;
    And, trust me, whatsoe’er your doom,
    Whate’er betide through years to come,
    The punctual pleasures of your home                              150
    Shall linger in your thoughts,
    More clear than any future hope
    Though fancy take her freest scope.
    For oh! too soon your hearts shall own
    The past is all that is your own.                                155

    And every day of _festival_
    Gratefully shall ye then recal,
    Less for their own sakes than for this,
    That each shall be a resting-place
    For memory, and divide the race                                  160
    Of childhood’s smooth and happy years,
    Thus lengthening out that term of life
    Which governed by your parents’ care
    Is free from sorrow and from strife.


The following lines were written by Wordsworth in 1826. He never
published them. They were the result of a slight disagreement between
the Wordsworth family and the Le Flemings, which led the former to fear
that they might have to “quit Rydal Mount as a residence.” It was an
insignificant difference, and the Wordsworths did not leave their home.
The only thing worthy of record, in connection with the matter, is that
the fear of being dispossessed led the poet to write what follows.--ED.

    The doubt to which a wavering hope had clung
    Is fled; we must depart, willing or not;
    Sky-piercing Hills! must bid farewell to you
    And all that ye look down upon with pride,
    With tenderness, embosom; to your paths,                           5
    And pleasant dwellings, to familiar trees
    And wild-flowers known as well as if our hands
    Had tended them: and O pellucid Spring!
    Unheard of, save in one small hamlet, here
    Not undistinguished, for of wells that ooze                       10
    Or founts that gurgle from yon craggy steep,
    Their common sire, thou only bear’st his name.
    Insensibly the foretaste of this parting
    Hath ruled my steps, and seals me to thy side,
    Mindful that thou (ah! wherefore by my Muse                       15
    So long unthanked) hast cheered a simple board
    With beverage pure as ever fixed the choice
    Of hermit, dubious where to scoop his cell;
    Which Persian kings might envy; and thy meek
    And gentle aspect oft has ministered                              20
    To finer uses. They for me must cease;
    Days will pass on, the year, if years be given,
    Fade,--and the moralising mind derive
    No lessons from the presence of a Power
    By the inconstant nature we inherit                               25
    Unmatched in delicate beneficence;
    For neither unremitting rains avail
    To swell thee into voice; nor longest drought
    Thy bounty stints, nor can thy beauty mar,
    Beauty not therefore wanting change to stir                       30
    The fancy pleased by spectacles unlooked for.
      Nor yet, perchance, translucent Spring, had tolled
    The Norman curfew bell when human hands
    First offered help that the deficient rock
    Might overarch thee, from pernicious heat                         35
    Defended, and appropriate to man’s need.
    Such ties will not be severed: but, when we
    Are gone, what summer loiterer will regard,
    Inquisitive, thy countenance, will peruse,
    Pleased to detect the dimpling stir of life,                      40
    The breathing faculty with which thou yield’st
    (Tho’ a mere goblet to the careless eye)
    Boons inexhaustible? Who, hurrying on
    With a step quickened by November’s cold,
    Shall pause, the skill admiring that can work                     45
    Upon thy chance-defilements--withered twigs
    That, lodged within thy crystal depths, seem bright,
    As if they from a silver tree had fallen--
    And oaken leaves that, driven by whirling blasts,
    Sunk down, and lay immersed in dead repose                        50
    For Time’s invisible tooth to prey upon
    Unsightly objects and uncoveted,
    Till thou with crystal bead-drops didst encrust
    Their skeletons, turned to brilliant ornaments.
    But, from thy bosom, should some venturous[396] hand              55
    Abstract those gleaming relics, and uplift them,
    However gently, toward the vulgar air,
    At once their tender brightness disappears,
    Leaving the intermeddler to upbraid
    His folly. Thus (I feel it while I speak),                        60
    Thus, with the fibres of these thoughts it fares;
    And oh! how much, of all that love creates
    Or beautifies, like changes undergo,
    Suffers like loss when drawn out of the soul,
    Its silent laboratory! Words should say                           65
    (Could they depict the marvels of thy cell)
    How often I have marked a plumy fern
    From the live rock with grace inimitable
    Bending its apex toward a paler self
    Reflected all in perfect lineaments--                             70
    Shadow and substance kissing point to point
    In mutual stillness; or, if some faint breeze
    Entering the cell gave restlessness to one,
    The other, glassed in thy unruffled breast,
    Partook of every motion, met, retired,                            75
    And met again. Such playful sympathy,
    Such delicate caress as in the shape
    Of this green plant had aptly recompensed
    For baffled lips and disappointed arms
    And hopeless pangs, the spirit of that youth,                     80
    The fair Narcissus by some pitying God
    Changed to a crimson flower; when he, whose pride
    Provoked a retribution too severe,
    Had pined; upon his watery duplicate
    Wasting that love the nymphs implored in vain.                    85
      Thus while my Fancy wanders, thou, clear Spring,
    Moved (shall I say?) like a dear friend who meets
    A parting moment with her loveliest look,
    And seemingly her happiest, look so fair
    It frustrates its own purpose, and recalls                        90
    The grieved one whom it meant to send away--
    Dost tempt me by disclosures exquisite
    To linger, bending over thee: for now,
    What witchcraft, mild enchantress, may with thee
    Compare! thy earthly bed a moment past                            95
    Palpable to sight as the dry ground,
    Eludes perception, not by rippling air
    Concealed, nor through effect of some impure
    Upstirring; but, abstracted by a charm
    Of my own cunning, earth mysteriously                            100
    From under thee hath vanished, and slant beams
    The silent inquest of a western sun,
    Assisting, lucid well-spring! Thou revealest
    Communion without check of herbs and flowers,
    And the vault’s hoary sides to which they cling,                 105
    Imaged in downward show; the flower, the Herbs,[397]
    _These_ not of earthly texture, and the vault
    Not _there_ diminutive, but through a scale
    Of vision less and less distinct, descending
    To gloom imperishable. So (if truths                             110
    The highest condescend to be set forth
    By processes minute), even so--when thought
    Wins help from something greater than herself--
    Is the firm basis of habitual sense
    Supplanted, not for treacherous vacancy                          115
    And blank dissociation from a world
    We love, but that the residues of flesh,
    Mirrored, yet not too strictly, may refine
    To Spirit; for the idealising Soul
    Time wears the features of Eternity;                             120
    And Nature deepens into Nature’s God.
      Millions of kneeling Hindoos at this day
    Bow to the watery element, adored
    In their vast stream, and if an age hath been
    (As books and haply votive altars vouch)                         125
    When British floods were worshipped, some faint trace
    Of that idolatry, through monkish rites
    Transmitted far as living memory,
    Might wait on thee, a silent monitor,
    On thee, bright Spring, a bashful little one,                    130
    Yet to the measure of thy promises
    True, as the mightiest; upon thee, sequestered
    For meditation, nor inopportune
    For social interest such as I have shared.
    Peace to the sober matron who shall dip                          135
    Her pitcher here at early dawn, by me
    No longer greeted--to the tottering sire,
    For whom like service, now and then his choice,
    Relieves the tedious holiday of age--
    Thoughts raised above the Earth while here he sits               140
    Feeding on sunshine--to the blushing girl
    Who here forgets her errand, nothing loth
    To be waylaid by her betrothed, peace
    And pleasure sobered down to happiness!
      But should these hills be ranged by one whose soul             145
    Scorning love-whispers shrinks from love itself
    As Fancy’s snare for female vanity,
    Here may the aspirant find a trysting-place
    For loftier intercourse. The Muses crowned
    With wreaths that have not faded to this hour                    150
    Sprung from high Jove, of sage Mnemosyne
    Enamoured, so the fable runs; but they
    Certes were self-taught damsels, scattered births
    Of many a Grecian vale, who sought not praise,
    And, heedless even of listeners, warbled out                     155
    Their own emotions given to mountain air
    In notes which mountain echoes would take up
    Boldly and bear away to softer life;
    Hence deified as sisters they were bound
    Together in a never-dying choir;                                 160
    Who with their Hippocrene and grottoed fount
    Of Castaly, attest that Woman’s heart
    Was in the limpid age of this stained world
    The most assured seat of [        ]
    And new-born waters, deemed the happiest source                  165
    Of inspiration for the conscious lyre.
      Lured by the crystal element in times
    Stormy and fierce, the Maid of Arc withdrew
    From human converse to frequent alone
    The Fountain of the Fairies. What to her,                        170
    Smooth summer dreams, old favours of the place.
    Pageant and revels of blithe elves--to her
    Whose country groan’d under a foreign scourge?
    She pondered murmurs that attuned her ear
    For the reception of far other sounds                            175
    Than their too happy minstrelsy,--a Voice
    Reached her with supernatural mandate charged
    More awful than the chambers of dark earth
    Have virtue to send forth. Upon the marge
    Of the benignant fountain, while she stood                       180
    Gazing intensely, the translucent lymph
    Darkened beneath the shadow of her thoughts
    As if swift clouds swept o’er it, or caught
    War’s tincture, ’mid the forest green and still,
    Turned into blood before her heart-sick eye.                     185
    Erelong, forsaking all her natural haunts,
    All her accustomed offices and cares
    Relinquishing, but treasuring every law
    And grace of feminine humanity,
    The chosen Rustic urged a warlike steed                          190
    Toward the beleaguered city, in the might
    Of prophecy, accoutred to fulfil,
    At the sword’s point, visions conceived in love.
      The cloud of rooks descending thro’ mid air
    Softens its evening uproar towards a close[398]                  195
    Near and more near; for this protracted strain
    A warning not unwelcome. Fare thee well!
    Emblem of equanimity and truth,
    Farewell!--if thy composure be not ours,
    Yet as thou still, when we are gone, wilt keep                   200
    Thy living chaplet of fresh flowers and fern,
    Cherished in shade tho’ peeped at[399] by the sun;
    So shall our bosoms feel a covert growth
    Of grateful recollections, tribute due
    To thy obscure and modest attributes                             205
    To thee, dear Spring,[400] and all-sustaining Heaven!

[396] The MS. has a second reading, “covetous hand.”--ED.

[397] In MS. also “its herbs.”--ED.


    … to a close

    From a MS. copied at Rydal by Professor Reed in 1854.


    … pecked at …

    From a MS. copied at Rydal by Professor Reed in 1854.


    … clear Spring …

    From a MS. copied at Rydal by Professor Reed in 1854.


These lines were written for Miss Fanny Barlow of Middlethorpe Hall,
York. She was first married to the Rev. E. Trafford Leigh, and
afterwards to Dr. Eason Wilkinson of Manchester.--ED.

    I, whose pretty Voice you hear,
    Lady (you will think it queer),
    Have a Mother, once a Statue,
    I, thus boldly looking at you,
    Do the name of Paphus bear,                                        5
    Fam’d Pygmalion’s Son and Heir,
    By that wondrous marble wife
    That from Venus took her life.
    Cupid’s Nephew then am I,
    Nor unskill’d his darts to ply;                                   10
    But from Him I crav’d no warrant,
    Coming thus to seek my Parent;
    Not equipp’d with bow and quiver
    Her by menace to deliver,
    But resolv’d with filial care                                     15
    Her captivity to share.
    Hence, while on your toilet, She
    Is doom’d a Pincushion to be,
    By her side I’ll take my place,
    As a humble Needle-case;                                          20
    Furnish’d too with dainty thread,
    For a Sempstress thorough-bred.
    Then let both be kindly treated,
    Till the Term, for which She’s fated
    Durance to sustain, be over;                                      25
    So will I ensure a Lover
    Lady! to your heart’s content;
    But on harshness are you bent
    Bitterly shall you repent,
    When to Cyprus back I go                                          30
    And take up my Uncle’s bow.

    _Composed_, and in part transcribed, for Fanny Barlow, by her
                         affectionate Friend

                                                  WM. WORDSWORTH.

        _Shortest Day, 1826_.




The following lines were written in Dora Wordsworth’s “Album,” in which
Sir Walter Scott also wrote some verses.--ED.

    Confiding hopes of youthful hearts,
    And each bright visionary scheme,
    Shall here remain in vivid hues
    The hues of a celestial dream.

    The farewell of the laurelled Knight                               5
    Traced by a brave but tremulous hand,
    Pledge of his truth and loyalty
    Thro’ changeful years, unchanged shall stand.

    But why should I inscribe my name,
    No Poet I--no longer young?                                       10
    The ambition of a loving heart
    Makes garrulous the tongue.

    Memorials of thy aged Friend
    Dora thou dost not need;
    And when the cold earth covers her                                15
    No flattery shall she heed.

    Yet still a lurking wish prevails
    That when from life we all have passed
    The friends who loved thy Father’s name
    On her’s a thought may cast.                                      20

                             DOROTHY WORDSWORTH.

    _January 1827._



These lines were written by Wordsworth, after reading a sentence in
the Stranger’s Book at “The Station,”--not a railway station!--on
the western side of Windermere lake, opposite Bowness. Their poetic
merit is slight, but they illustrate the honesty and directness of
the writer’s mind. The Stranger’s Book at “The Station” contained the

    “Lord and Lady Darlington, Lady Vane, Miss Taylor, and Captain
    Stamp pronounce this Lake superior to Lac de Genève, Lago
    de Como, Lago Maggiore, L’Eau de Zurich, Loch Lomond, Loch
    Katerine, or the Lakes of Killarney.”-ED.

    My Lord and Lady Darlington,
    I would not speak in snarling-tone;
    Nor, to you, good Lady Vane,
    Would I give one moment’s pain;
    Nor Miss Taylor, Captain Stamp,                                    5
    Would I your flights of _memory_ cramp.
    Yet, having spent a summer’s day
    On the green margin of Loch Tay,
    And doubled (prospect ever bettering)
    The mazy reaches of Loch Katerine,                                10
    And more than once been free at Luss,
    Loch Lomond’s beauties to discuss,
    And wished, at least, to hear the blarney
    Of the sly boatmen of Killarney,
    And dipped my hand in dancing wave                                15
    Of Eau de Zurich, Lac Genève,
    And bowed to many a major domo
    On stately terraces of Como,
    And seen the Simplon’s forehead hoary,
    Reclined on Lago Maggiore                                         20
    At breathless eventide at rest
    On the broad water’s placid breast,
    I, not insensible, Heaven knows,
    To all the charms this Station shows,
    Must tell you, Captain, Lord, and Ladies--                        25
    For honest worth one poet’s trade is--
    That your praise appears to me
    Folly’s own hyperbole.



These lines were written and sent in a letter to Henry Crabb Robinson,
dated 5th May 1833.--ED.

    Avaunt this œconomic rage!
    What would it bring?--an iron age,
    Where Fact with heartless search explored
    Shall be Imagination’s Lord,
    And sway with absolute controul                                    5
    The god-like Functions of the Soul.
    Not _thus_ can knowledge elevate
    Our Nature from her fallen state.
    With sober Reason Faith unites
    To vindicate the ideal rights                                     10
    Of human-kind--the tone agreeing
    Of objects with internal seeing,
    Of effort with the end of Being.

Wordsworth added, in the letter to Robinson, “Is the above
intelligible? I fear not! I know, however, my own meaning, and that’s
enough for Manuscripts.”--ED.



These lines were placed by Wordsworth amongst the “Evening Voluntaries”
in the two editions of _Yarrow Revisited and other Poems_ (1835, 1836);
but they were never afterwards reprinted in his life-time.--ED.

For printing the following Piece, some reason should be given, as not
a word of it is original: it is simply a fine stanza of Akenside,[401]
connected with a still finer from Beattie[402]by a couplet of
Thomson.[403] This practice, in which the author sometimes indulges, of
linking together, in his own mind, favourite passages from different
authors, seemed in itself unobjectionable; but, as the _publishing_
such compilations might lead to confusion in literature, he should
deem himself inexcusable in giving this specimen, were it not from
a hope that it might open to others a harmless source of _private_
gratification.--W. W. 1835.

    Throned in the Sun’s descending car,
    What Power unseen diffuses far
    This tenderness of mind?
    What Genius smiles on yonder flood?
    What God in whispers from the wood                                 5
    Bids every thought be kind?

    O ever-pleasing solitude,
    Companion of the wise and good.

    Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine
      Thy charms my only theme;                                       10

    Why haunt the hollow cliff whose Pine
      Waves o’er the gloomy stream;
    Whence the scared Owl on pinions grey
      Breaks from the rustling boughs,
    And down the lone vale sails away                                 15
      To more profound repose!

[401] See his Ode V., _Against Suspicion_, stanza viii.--ED.

[402] See his poem, _Retirement_, 1758.--ED.

[403] See his _Hymn on Solitude_, which begins, “Hail, ever-pleasing


The following ten lines were written by Wordsworth in a copy of his
works, after the lines _To the Moon_ (Rydal) 1835. They may have been
intended as a possible sequel to them, or to the lines _To the Moon,
composed by the Seaside--on the coast of Cumberland_ (1835).--ED.

    And oh! dear soother of the pensive breast,
    Let homelier words without offence attest
    How where on random topics as they hit
    The moments’ humour, rough Tars spend their wit.
    Thy changes, which to wiser Spirits seem                           5
    Dark as a riddle, prove a favourite theme;
    Thy motions, intricate and manifold,
    Oft help to make bold fancy’s flight more bold;
    Beget strange themes; and to freaks give birth
    Of speech as wild as ever heightened mirth.                       10



On the 26th of March 1836, Wordsworth sent the following lines to Henry
Crabb Robinson; written, he tells him, “immediately on reading Evans’s
modest self-defence speech the other day.” George de Lacy Evans was
radical member of Parliament for Westminster. “In 1835, he took command
of the British Legion raised for the service of the Queen Regent of
Spain against Don Carlos.” (Professor Dowden.)--ED.

    Said red-ribboned Evans:
    “My legions in Spain
    Were at sixes and sevens;
    Now they’re famished or slain:
    But no fault of mine,                                              5
    For, like brave Philip Sidney,
    In campaigning I shine,
    A true knight of his kidney.
    Sound flogging and fighting
    No chief, on my troth,                                            10
    E’er took such delight in
    As I in them both.
    Fontarabbia can tell
    How my eyes watched the foe,
    Hernani knows well                                                15
    That our feet were not slow;
    Our hospitals, too,
    They are matchless in story;
    Where her thousands Fate slew,
    All panting for glory.”                                           20
    Alas for this Hero!
    His fame touched the skies,
    Then fell below zero,
    Never, never to rise!
    For him to Westminster                                            25
    Did Prudence convey,
    There safe as a Spinster
    The Patriot to play.
    But why be so glad on
    His feats or his fall?                                            30
    He’s got his red ribbon,
    And laughs at us all.



Mrs. Wordsworth sent this to Henry Crabb Robinson in 1837, “to show
you that _we_ can write an Epigram--we _do not say_ a good one.” She
then quoted it, and added, “The Producer thinks it not amiss, as being
murmured between sleep and awake over the fire, while thinking of you
last night!”--Ed.

    The Ball whizzed by,--it grazed his ear,
      And whispered as it flew,
    “I only touch--not take--don’t fear,
    For both, my honest Buccaneer!
      Are to the Pillory due.”



The following lines were cut on the face of a rock at Rydal Mount in
1838. There, they still remain.--ED.

    Wouldst thou be gathered to Christ’s chosen flock,
    Shun the broad way too easily explored,
    And let thy path be hewn out of the Rock,
    The living Rock of God’s eternal Word.


Composed 1838.--Published 1838

    Forth rushed, from Envy sprung and Self-conceit,
    A Power misnamed the SPIRIT OF REFORM,
    And through the astonished Island swept in storm,
    Threatening to lay all Orders at her feet
    That crossed her way. Now stoops she to entreat                    5
    Licence to hide at intervals her head,
    Where she may work, safe, undisquieted,
    In a close Box, covert for Justice meet.
    St. George of England! keep a watchful eye
    Fixed on the Suitor; frustrate her request--                      10
    Stifle her hope; for, if the State comply,
    From such Pandorian gift may come a Pest
    Worse than the Dragon that bowed low his crest,
    Pierced by thy spear in glorious victory.

[404] In his notes to the volume of Collected Sonnets (1838),
Wordsworth writes:--“‘_Protest against the Ballot._’ Having in this
notice alluded only in general terms to the mischief which, in my
opinion, the Ballot would bring along with it, without especially
branding its immoral and antisocial tendency (for which no political
advantages, were they a thousand times greater than those presumed
upon, could be a compensation), I have been impelled to subjoin a
reprobation of it upon that score. In no part of my writings have
I mentioned the name of any contemporary, that of Buonaparte only
excepted, but for the purpose of eulogy; and therefore, as in the
concluding verse of what follows, there is a deviation from this rule
(for the blank will be easily filled up) I have excluded the sonnet
from the body of the collection, and placed it here as a public record
of my detestation, both as a man and a citizen, of the proposed

Then follows the sonnet beginning--

    Said Secrecy to Cowardice and Fraud.



Composed, probably, in 1838.--Published 1838[405]

    Said Secrecy to Cowardice and Fraud,
    Falsehood and Treachery, in close council met,
    Deep under ground, in Pluto’s cabinet,
    “The frost of England’s pride will soon be thawed;
    Hooded the open brow that overawed                                 5
    Our schemes; the faith and honour, never yet
    By us with hope encountered, be upset;--
    For once I burst my bands, and cry, applaud!”
    Then whispered she, “The Bill is carrying out!”
    They heard, and, starting up, the Brood of Night                  10
    Clapped hands, and shook with glee their matted locks;
    All Powers and Places that abhor the light
    Joined in the transport, echoed back their shout,
    Hurrah for ----, hugging his Ballot-box![406]

[405] This was first published in a note to the sonnet entitled
_Protest against the Ballot_, in the volume of 1838. It was never
republished by Wordsworth.

[406] See the note to the previous sonnet. George Grote was the
person satirised. “Since that time,” adds Mr. Reed, in a note to his
American edition, “Mr. Grote’s political notoriety, as an advocate of
the ballot, has been merged in the high reputation he has acquired as
probably the most eminent modern historian of ancient Greece”--ED.



Published 1838

    “Son of my buried Son, while thus thy hand
    Is clasping mine, it saddens me to think
    How Want may press thee down, and with thee sink
    Thy Children left unfit, through vain demand
    Of culture, even to feel or understand                             5
    My simplest Lay that to their memory
    May cling;--hard fate! which haply need not be
    Did Justice mould the Statutes of the Land.
    A Book time-cherished and an honoured name
    Are high rewards; but bound they Nature’s claim                   10
    Or Reason’s? No--hopes spun in timid line
    From out the bosom of a modest home
    Extend through unambitious years to come,
    My careless Little-one, for thee and thine!”[408][409]

[407] “The foregoing” was the Sonnet named _A Plea for Authors, May

[408] 1836.

    Son of my buried Son, whose tiny hand
    Thus clings to mine, it {saddens} me to think
    That thou pressed down by poverty mayst sink
    Even till thy children shall in vain demand
    {Culture and neither feel nor} understand
    {Culture required to feel and}
    {My simplest lay that to their memory}
    {My least recondite lay, which memory}
    {Perchance may cleave}; hard fate, which need not be
    {May keep in trust   }
    Did justice mould the statutes of the land.
    {A book time-cherished} and an honoured name
    {A cherished volume   }
    Are high rewards, but bound not {Reason’s} claim.
    No--hopes {in fond hereditary line    }
              {and wishes in a living line}
    Spun from the bosom of a modest home
    Extend thro’ unambitious years to come,
    My careless Little-one, for thee and thine!


[409] The author of an animated article, printed in the _Law Magazine_,
in favour of the principle of Serjeant Talfourd’s Copyright Bill,
precedes me in the public expression of this feeling; which had been
forced too often upon my own mind, by remembering how few descendants
of men eminent in literature are even known to exist.--W.W. 1838.

This sonnet was not addressed to any grandson of the Poet’s.--ED.



Composed 1840.--Published 1850

    We gaze--nor grieve to think that we must die,
    But that the precious love this friend hath sown
    Within our hearts, the love whose flower hath blown
    Bright as if heaven were ever in its eye,
    Will pass so soon from human memory;                               5
    And not by strangers to our blood alone,
    But by our best descendants be unknown,
    Unthought of--this may surely claim a sigh.
    Yet, blessèd Art, we yield not to dejection:
    Thou against Time so feelingly dost strive;                       10
    Where’er, preserved in this most true reflection,
    An image of her soul is kept alive,
    Some lingering fragrance of the pure affection,
    Whose flower with us will vanish, must survive.

                                     WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

        _New Year’s Day, 1840_.

[410] See the note to the next sonnet.--ED.

TO I.F.[411]

Composed 1840.--Published 1850

    The star which comes at close of day to shine
    More heavenly bright than when it leads the morn,
    Is friendship’s emblem,[412] whether the forlorn
    She visiteth, or, shedding light benign
    Through shades that solemnize Life’s calm decline,                 5
    Doth make the happy happier. This have we
    Learnt, Isabel, from thy society,
    Which now we too unwillingly resign
    Though for brief absence. But farewell! the page
    Glimmers before my sight through thankful tears,                  10
    Such as start forth, not seldom, to approve
    Our truth, when we, old yet unchill’d by age,
    Call thee, though known but for a few fleet years,
    The heart-affianced sister of our love!

                                   WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

        _Feb. 1840_.

[411] This and the preceding sonnet, beginning “We gaze--nor grieve
to think that we must die,” were addressed to Miss Fenwick, to whom
we owe the invaluable “Fenwick Notes.” Were it not that the date is
very minutely given, I would believe that they belong to 1841, as Miss
Gillies told me she resided at Rydal Mount in that year, when she
painted Mrs. Wordsworth’s portrait.--ED.

[412] 1850.

    Bright is the star which comes at eve to shine
    More heavenly bright than when it leads the morn,
    And such is Friendship, whether the forlorn, etc.



In his copy of the edition of 1845 at the close of the poem, _Animal
Tranquillity and Decay_ (1798) (see the “Poem referring to the Period
of Old Age,” vol. i. p. 307), Henry Crabb Robinson wrote the following
lines, sent to him by Wordsworth.--ED.

    Oh Bounty without measure, while the Grace
    Of Heaven doth in such wise from humblest springs
    Pour pleasures forth, and solaces that trace
    A mazy course along familiar things,
    Well may our hearts have faith that blessings come                 5
    Streaming from points above the starry sky,
    With angels, when their own untroubled home
    They leave, and speed on mighty embassy
    To visit earthly chambers,--and for whom?
    Yea, both for souls who God’s forbearance try,                    10
    And those that seek his help and for his mercy sigh.

    _7th April 1840. My 70th Birthday._




The following poem was contributed to, and printed in, a volume
entitled “_La Petite Chouannerie, ou Histoire d’un Collège Breton sous
l’Empire_. Par A. F. Rio. Londres: Moxon, Dover Street, 1842,” pp. 62,
63. The Hon. Mrs. Norton, Walter Savage Landor, and Monckton Milnes
(Lord Houghton), were among the other English contributors to the
volume, the bulk of which is in French. It was printed at Paris, and
numbered 398 pages, including the title. It was a narrative of “the
romantic revolt of the royalist students of the college of Vannes in
1815, and of their battles with the soldiers of the French Empire.” (H.

Composed (?).--Published 1842

    Shade of Caractacus, if spirits love
    The cause they fought for in their earthly home,
    To see the Eagle ruffled by the Dove
    May soothe thy memory of the chains of Rome.

    These children claim thee for their sire; the breath               5
    Of thy renown, from Cambrian mountains, fans
    A flame within them that despises death,
    And glorifies the truant youth of Vannes.

    With thy own scorn of tyrants they advance,
    But truth divine has sanctified their rage,                       10
    A silver cross enchased with flowers of France
    Their badge, attests the holy fight they wage.

    The shrill defiance of the young crusade
    Their veteran foes mock as an idle noise;
    But unto Faith and Loyalty comes aid                              15
    From Heaven, gigantic force to beardless boys.

[413] In the volume from which the above is copied, the original French
lines (commencing at p. 106) are printed side by side with Wordsworth’s
translation, which ends on p. 111, and closes the volume.--ED.


Composed 1842.--Published 1845

Wordsworth’s lines on Grace Darling were printed privately, and
anonymously, at Carlisle, before they were included in the 1845 edition
of his works. A copy was sent to Mr. Dyce, and is preserved in the Dyce
Library at South Kensington. Another was sent to Professor Reed (March
27, 1843), with a letter, in which the following occurs: “I threw it
off two or three weeks ago, being in a great measure impelled to it
by the desire I felt to do justice to the memory of a heroine, whose
conduct presented, some time ago, a striking contrast to the inhumanity
with which our countrymen, shipwrecked lately upon the French coast,
have been treated.”

Edward Quillinan, writing on 25th March 1843, enclosed a copy, adding,
“Mr. Wordsworth desires me to send you the enclosed eulogy on Grace
Darling, recently composed. He begs me to say that he wishes it kept
out of the newspapers, as he has printed it only for some of his
friends, and his friends’ friends more peculiarly interested in the
subject, for the present. Do not therefore give a copy to any one.”

“Almost immediately after I had composed my tribute to the memory of
Grace Darling, I learnt that the Queen and Queen Dowager had both just
subscribed towards the erection of a monument to record her heroism,
upon the spot that witnessed it.” (Wordsworth to Sir W. Gomm, March 24,

    Among the dwellers in the silent fields
    The natural heart is touched, and public way
    And crowded streets resound with ballad strains,
    Inspired by ONE whose very name bespeaks
    Favour divine, exalting human love;                                5
    Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria’s coast,
    Known unto few but prized as far as known,
    A single Act endears to high and low
    Through the whole land--to Manhood, moved in spite
    Of the world’s freezing cares--to generous Youth--                10
    To Infancy, that lisps her praise--to Age
    Whose eye reflects it, glistening through a tear
    Of tremulous admiration. Such true fame
    Awaits her _now_; but, verily, good deeds
    Do no imperishable record find                                    15
    Save in the rolls of heaven, where hers may live
    A theme for angels, when they celebrate
    The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth
    Has witness’d. Oh! that winds and waves could speak
    Of things which their united power called forth                   20
    From the pure depths of her humanity!
    A Maiden gentle, yet, at duty’s call,
    Firm and unflinching, as the Lighthouse reared
    On the Island-rock, her lonely dwelling-place;
    Or like the invincible Rock itself that braves,                   25
    Age after age, the hostile elements,
    As when it guarded holy Cuthbert’s cell.[415]

      All night the storm had raged, nor ceased, nor paused,
    When, as day broke, the Maid, through misty air,
    Espies far off a Wreck, amid the surf,                            30
    Beating on one of those disastrous isles--
    Half of a Vessel, half--no more; the rest
    Had vanished, swallowed up with all that there
    Had for the common safety striven in vain,
    Or thither thronged for refuge.[416] With quick glance            35
    Daughter and Sire through optic-glass discern,
    Clinging about the remnant of this Ship,
    Creatures--how precious in the Maiden’s sight!
    For whom, belike, the old Man grieves still more
    Than for their fellow-sufferers engulfed                          40
    Where every parting agony is hushed,
    And hope and fear mix not in further strife.
    “But courage, Father! let us out to sea--
    A few may yet be saved.” The Daughter’s words,
    Her earnest tone, and look beaming with faith,                    45
    Dispel the Father’s doubts: nor do they lack
    The noble-minded Mother’s helping hand
    To launch the boat; and with her blessing cheered,
    And inwardly sustained by silent prayer,
    Together they put forth, Father and Child!                        50
    Each grasps an oar, and struggling on they go--
    Rivals in effort; and, alike intent
    Here to elude and there surmount, they watch
    The billows lengthening, mutually crossed
    And shattered, and re-gathering their might;                      55
    As if the tumult, by the Almighty’s will
    Were, in the conscious sea, roused and prolonged,[417]
    That woman’s fortitude--so tried, so proved--
    May brighten more and more!
                                      True to the mark,
    They stem the current of that perilous gorge,                     60
    Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening heart,
    Though danger, as the Wreck is near’d, becomes
    More imminent. Not unseen do they approach;
    And rapture, with varieties of fear
    Incessantly conflicting, thrills the frames                       65
    Of those who, in that dauntless energy,
    Foretaste deliverance; but the least perturbed
    Can scarcely trust his eyes, when he perceives
    That of the pair--tossed on the waves to bring
    Hope to the hopeless, to the dying, life--                        70
    One is a Woman, a poor earthly sister,
    Or, be the Visitant other than she seems,
    A guardian Spirit sent from pitying Heaven,
    In woman’s shape. But why prolong the tale,
    Casting weak words amid a host of thoughts                        75
    Armed to repel them? Every hazard faced
    And difficulty mastered, with resolve
    That no one breathing should be left to perish,
    This last remainder of the crew are all
    Placed in the little boat, then o’er the deep                     80
    Are safely borne, landed upon the beach,
    And, in fulfilment of God’s mercy, lodged
    Within the sheltering Lighthouse.--Shout, ye Waves!
    Send forth a song of triumph. Waves and Winds,
    Exult in this deliverance wrought through faith                   85
    In Him whose Providence your rage hath served![418]
    Ye screaming Sea-mews, in the concert join!
    And would that some immortal Voice--a Voice
    Fitly attuned to all that gratitude
    Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips             90
    Of the survivors--to the clouds might bear--
    Blended with praise of that parental love,
    Beneath whose watchful eye the Maiden grew
    Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave,
    Though young so wise, though meek so resolute--                   95
    Might carry to the clouds and to the stars,
    Yea, to celestial Choirs, GRACE DARLING’S name!

[414] Grace Darling was the daughter of William Darling, the lighthouse
keeper on Longstone, one of the Farne Islands on the Northumbrian
coast. On the 7th of September 1838, the Forfarshire steamship was
wrecked on these islands. At the instigation of his daughter, and
accompanied by her, Darling went out in his lifeboat through the surf,
to the wreck, and --by their united strength and daring--rescued the
nine survivors.--ED.

[415] St. Cuthbert of Durham, born about 635, was first a shepherd boy,
then a monk in the monastery of Melrose, and afterwards its prior. He
left Melrose for the island monastery of Lindisfarne; but desiring
an austerer life than the monastic, he left Lindisfarne, and became
an anchorite, in a hut which he built with his own hands, on one of
the Farne Islands. He was afterwards induced to accept the bishopric
of Hexham, but soon exchanged it for the see in his old island home
at Lindisfarne, and after two years there resigned his bishopric,
returning to his cell in Farne Island, where he died in 687. His
remains were carried to Durham, and placed within a costly shrine.--ED.

[416] Fifty-four persons had perished, before Grace Darling’s lifeboat
reached the wreck.--ED.

[417] 1845.

    As if the wrath and trouble of the sea
    Were by the Almighty’s sufferance prolonged,

    In privately printed edition.

[418] 1845.

For the last three lines, the privately printed edition has the single

    Pipe a glad song of triumph, ye fierce Winds.


Composed 23rd January 1842.--Published 1842

In 1842 a bazaar was held in Cardiff Castle to aid in the erection of
a Church, on the site of one which had been washed away by a flood in
the river Severn (and a consequent influx of waters into the estuary
of the British Channel) two hundred years before. Wordsworth and James
Montgomery were asked to write some verses, which might be printed and
sold to assist the cause. They did so. The following was Wordsworth’s

    When Severn’s sweeping flood had overthrown
    St. Mary’s Church, the preacher then would cry:--
    “Thus, Christian people, God his might hath shown
    That ye to him your love may testify;
    Haste, and rebuild the pile.”--But not a stone                     5
    Resumed its place. Age after age went by,
    And Heaven still lacked its due, though piety
    In secret did, we trust, her loss bemoan.
    But now her Spirit hath put forth its claim
    In Power, and Poesy would lend her voice;                         10
    Let the new Church be worthy of its aim,
    That in its beauty Cardiff may rejoice!
    Oh! in the past if cause there was for shame,
    Let not our times halt in their better choice.

    RYDAL MOUNT, _23rd Jan. 1842_.


The Fenwick note to _The Pillar of Trajan_ mentions that the author’s
son having declined to attempt to compete for the Oxford prize poem on
“The Pillar of Trajan,” his father wrote it, to show him how the thing
might be done. This son--the Rev. John Wordsworth of Brigham--wrote
Latin verse with considerable success; and as specimens of the poetic
work of Dorothy Wordsworth and of Sarah Hutchinson are included in
these volumes, the following _Epistola ad Patrem suum_, written at
Madeira by John Wordsworth in 1844, may be reproduced.--ED.

    I pete longinquas, non segnis Epistola, terras,
      I pete, Rydaliae conscia saxa lyrae:
    I pete quà valles rident, sylvaeque lacusque,
      Quamvis Arctoo paenè sub axe jacent.
    Parvos quaere Lares, non aurea Tecta, poetae,                      5
      Qui tamen ingenii sceptraque mentis habet.
    Quid faciat genitor? valeatne, an cura senilis
      Opprimat? Ista refer, filius ista rogat.
    Scire velit, quare venias tu scripta _latine_?
      Dic “fugio linguam, magne poeta, tuam!                          10
    Quem Regina jubet circumdare tempora lauro,
      Quem verè vatem saecula nostra vocant.”
    Inde refer gressus responsaque tradita curae
      Fida tuae, numeris in loca digna senis,
    Haec ego tradiderim, majoribus ire per altum                      15
      Nunc velis miserum me mea musa rapit.
    Solvimus è portu, navisque per aequora currit
      Neptuni auxilio fluctifragisque rotis.
    Neptunus videt attonitus, Neptunia conjux,
      Omnis et aequorei nympha comata chori.                          20
    Radimus Hispanum litus, loca saxea crebris
      Gallorum belli nobilitata malis.
    Haud mora, sunt visae Gades,[419] urbs fabula quondam,
      Claraque ab Herculeo nomine, clara suo.
    Hanc magnam cognovit Arabs, Romanus candem,                       25
      Utraque gens illi vimque decusque tulit.
    Hora brevis, fragilisque viris! similisque ruina
      Viribus humanis omnia facta manet
    Pulchra jaces, olim Carthaginis aemula magnae,
      Nataque famosae non inhonesta Tyri!                             30
    En! ratibus navale caret, nautis caret alnus,
      Mercatorque fugit dives inane Forum.
    Templa vacant pompâ, nitidisque theatra catervis,
      Tristis et it foedâ foemina virque via.
    Segnis in officiis, nec rectus ad aethera miles                   35
      Pauperis et vestes, armaque juris habet.
    Sic gens quaeque perit,[420] quando civilia bella
      Viscera divellunt, jusque fidesque fugit.
    Auspiciis laetam nostris lux proxima pandit
      Te, Calpe[421] celsis imperiosa jugis.                          40
    Urbs munimen habet nullo quassabile bello,
      Claustrum Tyrrhenis, claustrum et Atlantis, aquis.
    Undique nam vastae sustentant moenia rupes,
      Quae torvè in terras inque tuentur aquas.
    Arteque sunt mirâ sectae per saxa cavernae,                       45
      Atria sanguineo saeva sacrata Deo.
    Urbs invicta tamen populis commercia tuta
      Praebet, et in portus illicit inque Forum.
    Hic Mercator adest Maurus cui rebus agendis.
      Ah! nimis est cordi Punica prisca fides;                        50
    Afer et è mediis Libyae sitientis arenis,
      Suetus in immundâ vivere barbarie;
    Multus et aequoreis, ut quondam, Graius in undis,
      Degener, antiquum sic probat ille genus;
    Niliacae potator aquae, Judaeus, et omne                          55
      Litus Tyrrhenum quos, et Atlantis, alit.
    Hos quàm dissimiles (linguae sive ora notentur)
      Hos quàm felices pace Britannus habet!
    Anglia! dum pietas et honos, dum nota per orbem
      Sit tibi in intacto pectore prisca fides;                       60
    Dum pia cura tibi, magnos meruisse triumphos,
      Justaque per populos jura tulisse feros;
    Longinquas teneat tua vasta potentia terras,
      Et maneat Calpe gloria magna Tibi!
    Insula Atlanteis assurgit ab aequoris undis,                      65
      Insula flammigero semper amata Deo,
    Seu teneat celsi flagrantia signa Leonis,
      Seu gyro Pisces interiore petat.
    “Hic ver assiduum atque alienis mensibus aestas,”
      Flavus et autumnus frugibus usque tumet.                        70
    Non jacet Ionio felicior Insula ponto
      Ulla, nec Eoi fluctibus oceani.
    Vix, Madeira! tuum nunc refert dicere nomen,
      Floribus, et Bacchi munere pingue solum.
    Te vetus haud vanis cumulavit laudibus aetas,                     75
      O fortunato conspicienda choro!
    Haec nunc terra sinu nos detinet alma, proculque
      A Patriae curis, anxietate domi.
    Sic cepisse ferunt humanae oblivia curae
      Quisquis Lethaeae pocula sumpsit aquae:                         80
    Sic semota sequi studiisque odiisque docebas
      Otia discipulos, docte Epicure, tuos.
    Sed non ulla dies grato sine sole, nec ullo
      Fruge carens hortus tempore,[422] fronde nemus;[423]
    Nec levis ignotis oneratus odoribus aer,                          85
      Quales doctus equum flectere novit Arabs;
    Nec caecae quaecumque jacent sub rupe cavernae,[424]
      Queîs nunquam radiis Phoebus adire potest;
    Nec currentis aquae strepitus,[425] nec saxa, petensque
      Mons[426] excelsa suis sidera culminibus;                       90
    Nec tranquilla quies, rerumque oblivia, ponti
      Suadebunt iterum solicitare vias!
    Rideat at quamvis haec vultu terra sereno,
      Tabescit pravo gens malefida jugo:
    Dum sedet heu! tristis morborum pallor in ore,                    95
      Crebraque anhelanti pectore tussis inest.
    Ambitus et luxus, totoque accersita mundo,
      Queîs omnis populus quoque sub axe peril;
    Famae dira sitis, rerumque onerosa cupido,
      Raptaque ab irato templa diesque Deo,                          100
    Supplicium non lene suum, poenasque tulerunt;
      Saepè petis proprio, vir miser, ense latus!
    Uxor adhuc aegros dilecta resuscitat artus;
      Anxia cura suis, anxia cura mihi.
    Altera quodque dies jam roboris attulit, illud                   105
      Altera dura suis febribus abstulerit.
    Aurea mens illi, mollique in pectore corda,
      Et clarum longâ nobilitate genus.
    Quanquàm saepe trahunt Libycum non[427] aera sanum
      (Gratia magna Dei), pignora nostra vigent.                     110
    Iamque vale grandaeve Pater, grandaevaque Mater,
      Tuque O dilecto conjuge laeta soror!
    Quaeque pias nobis partes cognata ferebas,
      Nomina vana cadunt, Tu mihi Mater eras;
    Ingenioque mari, pietate ornata fideque,                         115
      Sanguine nulla domûs, semper amore, soror;
    Tu quoque, care, vale, Frater, quamvis procul absis,
      Per virides campos, quà petit aequor Eden.
    Denique tota domus, cunctique valete propinqui,
      Carmina plura mihi musa manusque negat.                        120


[419] Cadiz.

[420] Hispania hoc tempore bello civili divulsa fuit.

[421] Gibraltar.

[422] Sunt hibernis mensibus aurea mala.

[423] Laureae sylvae sunt.

[424] Antris abundat Insula.

[425] Multos rivos naturâ, mirâque humani ingenii arte constructos
continet Madeira.

[426] Pace Lusitanorum Insula nil nisi mons est, rectis culminibus mari

[427] Ventus ex Africa.--_Leste._

See also the _Carmen Maiis calendis compositum_, the _Carmen ad Maium
mensem_, and the _Somnivaga_,--evidently by the same writer,--in the
appendix to the second edition of _Yarrow Revisited_, 1836.--ED.



In January 1846 Wordsworth sent a copy of his Poems to the Queen, for
the Royal Library at Windsor, and inscribed the following lines upon
the fly-leaf. For their republication I am indebted to the gracious
permission of Her Majesty.--ED.

    Deign, Sovereign Mistress![428] to accept a lay,
      No Laureate offering of elaborate art;
    But salutation taking its glad way
      From deep recesses of a loyal heart.

    Queen, Wife, and Mother! may All-judging Heaven                    5
      Shower with a bounteous hand on Thee and Thine
    Felicity that only can be given
      On earth to goodness blest by grace divine.

    Lady! devoutly honoured and beloved
      Through every realm confided to thy sway;                       10
    Mayst thou pursue thy course by God approved,
      And He will teach thy people to obey.

    As thou art wont, thy sovereignty adorn
      With woman’s gentleness, yet firm and staid;
    So shall that earthly crown thy brows have worn                   15
      Be changed for one whose glory cannot fade.

    And now, by duty urged, I lay this Book
      Before thy Majesty, in humble trust
    That on its simplest pages thou wilt look
      With a benign indulgence more than just.                        20

    Nor wilt thou blame an aged Poet’s prayer,
    That issuing hence may steal into thy mind
    Some solace under weight of royal care,
    Or grief--the inheritance of humankind.

    For know we not that from celestial spheres,                      25
    When Time was young, an inspiration came
    (Oh, were it mine!) to hallow saddest tears,
    And help life onward in its noblest aim.


    _9th January 1846._

[428] Compare the address presented by the Deputies of the Kingdom of
Italy to Buonaparte, on Oct. 27, 1808, beginning, “Deign, Sovereign
Master of all Things.”--ED.




Composed 1847.--Published 1847.


    For thirst of power that Heaven disowns,
    For temples, towers, and thrones,
    Too long insulted by the Spoiler’s shock,
            Indignant Europe cast
            Her stormy foe at last
    To reap the whirlwind on a Libyan rock.


            War is passion’s basest game
            Madly played to win a name;
    Up starts some tyrant, Earth and Heaven to dare;
            The servile million bow;
    But will the lightning glance aside to spare
            The Despot’s laurelled brow?


    War is mercy, glory, fame,
    Waged in Freedom’s holy cause;
    Freedom, such as Man may claim
    Under God’s restraining laws.
    Such is Albion’s fame and glory:
    Let rescued Europe tell the story.

       RECIT. (_accompanied_).--CONTRALTO

    But lo, what sudden cloud has darkened all
            The land as with a funeral pall?
    The Rose of England suffers blight,
    The flower has drooped, the Isle’s delight,
            Flower and bud together fall--
    A Nation’s hopes lie crushed in Claremont’s desolate hall.


    Time a chequered mantle wears;--
          Earth awakes from wintry sleep;
    Again the Tree a blossom bears,--
        Cease, Britannia, cease to weep!
    Hark to the peals on this bright May-morn!
    They tell that your future Queen is born!


        A Guardian Angel fluttered
        Above the Babe, unseen;
        One word he softly uttered--
        It named the future Queen:
    And a joyful cry through the Island rang,
    As clear and bold as the trumpet’s clang,
      As bland as the reed of peace--
        “VICTORIA be her name!”
      For righteous triumphs are the base
    Whereon Britannia rests her peaceful fame.


    Time, in his mantle’s sunniest fold,
    Uplifted in his arms the child;
    And, while the fearless Infant smiled,
    Her happier destiny foretold:--
      “Infancy, by Wisdom mild,
      Trained to health and artless beauty;
      Youth, by Pleasure unbeguiled
      From the lore of lofty duty;
      Womanhood in pure renown,
      Seated on her lineal throne:
      Leaves of myrtle in her Crown,
      Fresh with lustre all their own.
      Love, the treasure worth possessing
      More than all the world beside,
      This shall be her choicest blessing,
      Oft to royal hearts denied.”

         RECIT. (_accompanied_).--BASS

    That eve, the Star of Brunswick shone
        With stedfast ray benign
    On Gotha’s ducal roof, and on
        The softly flowing Leine;
    Nor failed to gild the spires of Bonn,
        And glittered on the Rhine.--
    Old Camus too on that prophetic night
        Was conscious of the ray;
    And his willows whispered in its light,
        Not to the Zephyr’s sway,
    But with a Delphic life, in sight
        Of this auspicious day:


    This day, when Granta hails her chosen Lord,
      And proud of her award,
      Confiding in the Star serene
    Welcomes the Consort of a happy Queen.


    Prince, in these Collegiate bowers,
    Where Science, leagued with holier truth,
    Guards the sacred heart of youth,
    Solemn monitors are ours.
    These reverend aisles, these hallowed towers,
    Raised by many a hand august,
    Are haunted by majestic Powers,
    The memories of the Wise and Just,
    Who, faithful to a pious trust,
    Here, in the Founder’s spirit sought
    To mould and stamp the ore of thought
    In that bold form and impress high
    That best betoken patriot loyalty.
    Not in vain those Sages taught.--
    True disciples, good as great,
    Have pondered here their country’s weal,
    Weighed the Future by the Past,
    Learned how social frames may last,
    And how a Land may rule its fate
    By constancy inviolate,
      Though worlds to their foundations reel,
    The sport of factious Hate or godless Zeal.


      Albert, in thy race we cherish
      A Nation’s strength that will not perish
      While England’s sceptered Line
      True to the King of Kings is found;
      Like that Wise[430] Ancestor of thine
    Who threw the Saxon shield o’er Luther’s life,
    When first, above the yells of bigot strife,
      The trumpet of the Living Word
    Assumed a voice of deep portentous sound
    From gladdened Elbe to startled Tiber heard.


    What shield more sublime
    E’er was blazoned or sung?
    And the PRINCE whom we greet
    From its Hero is sprung.
      Resound, resound the strain
      That hails him for our own!
    Again, again, and yet again;
    For the Church, the State, the Throne!--
    And that Presence fair and bright,
    Ever blest wherever seen,
    Who deigns to grace our festal rite,
    The pride of the Islands, VICTORIA THE QUEEN!

[429] This “Ode” was printed and sung at Cambridge on the occasion of
the installation of His Royal Highness Prince Albert as Chancellor of
the University. It was published in the newspapers of the following
day, as “written for the occasion by the Poet Laureate, by royal

There is no evidence, however, that Wordsworth wrote a single line
of it. Dr. Cradock used to attribute the authorship to the poet’s
nephew, the late Bishop of Lincoln. It is much more likely that Edward
Quillinan was the author of the whole, although Christopher Wordsworth
may have revised it. Mr. Aubrey de Vere wrote to me, November 12,
1893, “It was from Miss Fenwick that I heard that the Laureate poem
(_Ode, etc._), was written by Quillinan, at Wordsworth’s request, he
having himself wholly failed in a reluctant attempt to write one. If
he _had_ written it, I doubt much whether he would ever have admitted
it to a place among his works, for he did not hold ‘Laureate Odes’ in
honour, and had only taken the Laureateship on the condition that he
was to write none. Tennyson made the same condition: which could not,
of course, interfere with either poet addressing lines to the Queen, if
they felt specially moved from within to do so.”

Miss Frances Arnold writes, “Miss Quillinan was my authority for saying
that the Cambridge Ode had been written by her father, owing to the
deep depression in which Wordsworth then was.”--ED.

[430] Frederic the Wise, Elector of Saxony (1847).


This sonnet exists, _in Wordsworth’s handwriting_; but it is doubtful
whether it was written by him, or not. Possibly Mr. Quillinan wrote it.
The place, and the date of composition--given in MS.--are, “Ambleside,
22nd February, 1849.” Miss Sellon was a relation of the late Count

    The vestal priestess of a sisterhood who knows
    No self, and whom the selfish scorn--
    She seeks a wilderness of weed and thorn,
    And, undiverted from the blessed mood
    By keen reproach or blind ingratitude,                             5
    A wreath she twines of blossoms lowly born--
    An amaranthine crown of flowers forlorn--
    And hangs her garland on the Holy Rood.
    Sister of Mercy, bravely hast thou won
    From men who winnow charity from Faith                            10
    The Pharasaic sneer that treats as dross
    The works by faith ordained. Pursue thy path,
    Till, at the last, thou hear the voice--“Well done,
    Thou good and faithful servant of the Cross.”



These lines were published in _The Monthly Packet_, in July 1891, where
the following note is appended by Miss Christabel Coleridge:--“Written
_circa_ 1852-3, and given to Mrs. Derwent Coleridge.” But Miss Edith
Coleridge, and Mr. E. H. Coleridge, tell me that they think they
“belong to an earlier period.” Mr. Coleridge writes, “I have heard Miss
Wordsworth repeat the lines now printed, seated in her arm-chair, on
the terrace at Rydal Mount.”--ED.

    The worship of this Sabbath morn,
    How sweetly it begins!
    With the full choral hymn of birds
    Mingles no sad lament for sins.

    Alas! my feet no more may join                                     5
    The cheerful Sabbath train;
    But if I inwardly lament,
    Oh! may a will subdued all grief restrain.

    No prisoner am I on this couch,
    My mind is free to roam,                                          10
    And leisure, peace, and loving friends,
    Are the best treasures of an earthly home.

    Such gifts are mine, then why deplore
    The body’s slow decay?
    A warning mercifully sent                                         15
    To fix my hopes upon a surer stay.





In the Bibliographies by Mr. Tutin and Professor Dowden there are
numerous and valuable details as to these editions, which it is
unnecessary to reproduce here.--ED.


1793. 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. London: printed for J. Johnson, St. Paul’s
Church-yard. 4to.


1793. DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES. In verse. Taken during a pedestrian tour
in the Italian, Grison, Swiss, and Savoyard Alps. By W. Wordsworth,
B. A., of St. John’s, Cambridge. Loca pastorum deserta atque otia
dia.--_Lucret._ Castella in tumulis--Et longe saltus lateque
vacantes.--_Virgil._ London: printed for J. Johnson, St. Paul’s
Churchyard. 4to.


1798. LYRICAL BALLADS, with a few other Poems. Bristol: printed by
Biggs and Cottle; for T. N. Longman, Paternoster-Row, London. 8vo.

1798. LYRICAL BALLADS, with a few other Poems. London: printed for J. &
A. Arch, Gracechurch Street. 8vo.[431]


1800. LYRICAL BALLADS, with other Poems. In two volumes. By W.
Wordsworth. Quam nihil ad genium. Papiniane, tuum! Vol. I. Second
Edition. [Vol. II.] London: printed for T. N. Longman and O. Rees,
Paternoster-Row, by Biggs and Co., Bristol. 8vo.[432]


1802. LYRICAL BALLADS, with Pastoral and other Poems. In two volumes.
By W. Wordsworth. Quam nihil ad genium, Papiniane, tuum! Third Edition.
London: printed for T. N. Longman & O. Rees, Paternoster-Row, by Biggs
and Cottle, Crane-Court, Fleet-Street. 8vo.[433]


1805. LYRICAL BALLADS, with Pastoral and other Poems. In two volumes.
By W. Wordsworth. Quam nihil ad genium, Papiniane, tuum! Fourth
Edition. London: printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, & Orme, by R.
Taylor and Co., 38 Shoe Lane. 8vo.[434]


1807. POEMS, in two volumes, By William Wordsworth, Author of the
Lyrical Ballads. _Posterius graviore sono tibi Musa loquetur Nostra,
dabunt cum securos mihi tempora fructus._ Vol. I. [Vol. II.] London:
printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, Paternoster-Row. 12mo.


and specifically as affected by the Convention of Cintra: _The whole
brought to the test of those principles by which alone the Independence
and Freedom of Nations can be Preserved or Recovered_. Qui didicit
patriae quid debeat;--Quod sit conscripti, quod judicis officium; quae
Partes in bellum missi ducis. By William Wordsworth. London: printed
for Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, Paternoster-Row. 8vo.


1814. THE EXCURSION, being a portion of The Recluse, a Poem. By William
Wordsworth. London: printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,
Paternoster-Row. 4to.[435]


1815. POEMS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH: including Lyrical Ballads, and
the Miscellaneous Pieces of the Author. With additional Poems, a new
Preface, and a Supplementary Essay. In two volumes. Vol. I. [Vol.
II.] London: printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,
Paternoster-Row. 8vo.[436]


By William Wordsworth. London: Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme,
and Brown, Paternoster-Row, by James Ballantyne and Co., Edinburgh.


1816. A LETTER TO A FRIEND OF ROBERT BURNS: occasioned by an intended
republication of the account of the Life of Burns, by Dr. Currie;
and of the Selection made by him from his Letters. By William
Wordsworth. London: Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,
Paternoster-Row. 8vo.[438]


1816. THANKSGIVING ODE, January 18, 1816. With other short Pieces,
chiefly referring to Recent Public Events. By William Wordsworth.
London: Printed by Thomas Davison, Whitefriars; for Longman, Hurst,
Rees, Orme, and Brown, Paternoster-Row. 8vo.


by Airy and Bellingham. 8vo.


1819. PETER BELL, a Tale in Verse, by William Wordsworth. London:
Printed by Strahan and Spottiswoode. Printers-Street; for Longman,
Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, Paternoster-Row. 8vo.[439]


1819. PETER BELL, A Tale in Verse, by William Wordsworth. Second
Edition. London: Printed by Strahan and Spottiswoode, Printers-Street;
for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, Paternoster-Row. 8vo.


1819. THE WAGGONER, a Poem, to which are added, Sonnets. By William
Wordsworth. “What’s in a NAME?” “Brutus will start a Spirit as soon as
Cæsar,” London: Printed by Strahan & Spottiswoode, Printers-Street; for
Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, & Brown, Paternoster-Row. 8vo.[440]


1820. THE RIVER DUDDON, a Series of Sonnets; Vaudracour and Julia:
and other Poems. To which is annexed, a Topographical Description
of the Country of the Lakes, in the North of England. By William
Wordsworth. London: Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,
Paternoster-Row. 8vo.[441]


volumes. London: Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,
Paternoster-Row. 12mo.[442]


1820. THE EXCURSION, being a portion of The Recluse, A Poem. By William
Wordsworth. Second Edition. London: Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees,
Orme, and Brown, Paternoster-Row. 8vo.


Wordsworth. London: Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,
Paternoster-Row. 8vo.


1822. ECCLESIASTICAL SKETCHES. By William Wordsworth. London: Printed
for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, Paternoster-Row. 8vo.[443]


ENGLAND. Third Edition (now first published separately), with
additions, and illustrative remarks upon the Scenery of the Alps. By
William Wordsworth. London: printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme,
and Brown, Paternoster-Row. 12mo.[444]


London: Printed for Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green,
Paternoster-Row. 12mo.[445]


Paris: Published by A. and W. Galignani, No. 18, Rue Vivienne. 8vo.[446]


for the use of Schools and Young Persons. London: Edward Moxon, 64 New
Bond Street. 12mo.[447]


volumes. London: Printed for Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, Green, &
Longman, Paternoster-Row. 8vo.[448]


use of Schools and young persons. A New Edition. London: Edward Moxon,
Dover Street. MDCCCXXXIV.


The Memorial Lines “Written after the Death of Charles Lamb” were
issued privately, without title or date, probably late in 1835, or
early in 1836. 8vo. pp. 7.


1835. YARROW REVISITED, AND OTHER POEMS. By William Wordsworth.

    Poets … dwell on earth
    To clothe whate’er the soul admires and loves;
    With language and with numbers.--AKENSIDE.

London: printed for Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, Green, & Longman,
Paternoster-Row; and Edward Moxon, Dover Street. 12mo.


ENGLAND, with a Description of the Scenery, &c. For the use of Tourists
and Residents. Fifth Edition, with considerable additions. By William
Wordsworth. Kendal: published by Hudson and Nicholson; and in London by
Longman & Co., Moxon, and Whittaker and Co. 12mo.


1836. YARROW REVISITED, AND OTHER POEMS. By William Wordsworth.

    Poets … dwell on earth
    To clothe whate’er the soul admires and loves;
    With language and with numbers.--AKENSIDE.

Second Edition. London: printed for Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, Green,
& Longman, Paternoster-Row; and Edward Moxon, Dover Street. 8vo.[449]


THE EXCURSION. A Poem. By William Wordsworth. A New Edition. London:
Edward Moxon, Dover Street. MDCCCXXXVI. 8vo.[450]


volumes. Vol. I. (Vol. II.-VI.) London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street.


THE SONNETS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Collected in one volume, with a
few additional ones, now first published. London: Edward Moxon, Dover
Street. MDCCCXXXVIII. 8vo.[452]


YARROW REVISITED; AND OTHER POEMS. By William Wordsworth. London:
Edward Moxon, Dover Street. MDCCCXXXIX. 18mo.[453]


POEMS, CHIEFLY OF EARLY AND LATE YEARS; including The Borderers, a
Tragedy. By William Wordsworth. London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street.
MDCCCXLII. 8vo.[454]


Burns. Sq. 12mo.[455]


1844. KENDAL AND WINDERMERE RAILWAY. Two Letters, re-printed from
the Morning Post. Revised, with additions. Kendal: printed by R.
Branthwaite and Son.


1845. THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, D.C.L., Poet Laureate, etc. etc.
A New Edition. London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street. MDCCCXLV. Royal


1847. ODE, performed in the Senate-House, Cambridge, on the sixth of
July, M.DCCC.XLVII. At the first commencement after the Installation
of his Royal Highness the Prince Albert, Chancellor of the University.
Cambridge: printed at the University Press. 4to.


1847. ODE on the installation of His Royal Highness Prince Albert as
Chancellor of the University of Cambridge. By William Wordsworth, Poet
Laureate. London: Printed, by permission, by Vizetelley Brothers & Co.
Published by George Bell, Fleet Street. 4to.


etc. In six volumes. A New Edition. London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street.

[431] These two editions of 1798 are the same; but as Cottle sold to
Arch most of the copies printed, the majority bear the name of Arch as

Four of the poems were by S.T. Coleridge, viz. _The Rime of the
Ancyent Marinere_; _The Foster-Mother’s Tale_; _The Nightingale, a
Conversational Poem_; and _The Dungeon_.--ED.

[432] The first volume of this edition is a reprint of the editions
of 1798, _The Convict_ being left out. In it there is one poem by
Coleridge entitled _Love_, which was not in the edition of 1798. The
poems in the second volume are new. The preface to Volume 1. contains
Wordsworth’s poetical theory in its original form. This preface was
included in the 1802 and 1805 editions of Lyrical Ballads, and also--in
an expanded form--in almost every subsequent edition of his poems.--ED.

[433] This was almost a reproduction of the two volumes of 1800, with
a few variations of text. The preface, however, was much enlarged.
The poem _A Character in the Antithetical Manner_ was left out, also
Coleridge’s poem _The Dungeon_.--ED.

[434] A reprint of the edition of 1802, with slight variations of

[435] The _Essay on Epitaphs_ inserted in the notes to this volume was
originally published in _The Friend_, February 22, 1810.--ED.

[436] This was the first edition of Wordsworth’s Poems arranged by
him under distinctive headings, viz. “Poems referring to the Period
of Childhood,” “Juvenile Pieces,” “Poems founded on the Affections,”
“Poems of the Fancy,” “Poems of the Imagination,” “Poems proceeding
from Sentiment and Reflection,” “Miscellaneous Sonnets,” “Sonnets,
etc., dedicated to Liberty,” “Poems on the Naming of Places,”
“Inscriptions,” “Poems referring to the Period of Old Age,” “Epitaphs
and Elegiac Poems,” “Ode, Intimations of Immortality from Recollections
of Childhood.” In it, he gave _dates_ to his poems.

In Volume I. is an engraving by Mr. Bromley from a picture by Sir
George Beaumont; Volume II. has an engraving by Mr. Reynolds from Sir
George’s picture of Peele Castle in a storm.--ED.

[437] The poem _The Force of Prayer; or, the Founding of Bolton Priory_
follows the _White Doe of Rylstone_; and the volume contains an
engraving by Mr. Bromley from a painting of Bolton Abbey by Sir George

[438] The “Friend” was Mr. James Gray, Edinburgh.--ED.

[439] The volume contains an engraving by Mr. Bromley from a painting
by Sir George Beaumont. In addition to _Peter Bell_, this volume
contained four sonnets.--ED.

[440] This volume was dedicated to Charles Lamb.--ED.

[441] In 1820 the four separate publications, _The Waggoner_, etc.,
_Thanksgiving Ode_, etc., _Peter Bell_, etc., and _The River Duddon,
Vaudracour and Julia_, etc., were bound up together with their separate
title-pages, and issued under the title, _Poems by William Wordsworth_,
making Volume III. of the _Miscellaneous Poems_.--ED.

[442] Each of these volumes contained an engraving from a picture by
Sir George Beaumont. They were “Lucy Gray,” “Peter Bell,” “The White
Doe of Rylstone,” and “Peele Castle.” All had appeared in previous
editions. The “Advertisement” states that this edition contains the
whole of the published poems of the Author, with the exception of _The
Excursion_, and that a few Sonnets “are now first published.”

It is worthy of note that, in this edition, Wordsworth for the first
time abandoned the practice of putting in an apostrophe, instead of
a vowel letter, in words ending with “ed,” and in similar cases of

[443] Wordsworth added to this series of Sonnets, in the one-volume
edition of 1845 which contained 132. In the first edition, there were
102 sonnets.--ED.

[444] This originally appeared as an Introduction to Wilkinson’s
_Select Views in Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Lancashire_, which was
published in 1810. In 1820 it was included (see No. 18) in _The River
Duddon: A Series of Sonnets_. In 1823 a fourth edition appeared which
was a reprint of that of 1822.--ED.

[445] To this edition Wordsworth prefixed the following
“Advertisement”:--“In these volumes will be found the whole of the
Author’s published poems, for the first time collected in a uniform
edition, with several new pieces interspersed.”--ED.

[446] In this edition--copied without authority, from the poet or
his publishers, and with many errata, from the issue of 1827--there
is an engraving of Wordsworth by Mr. Wedgewood, after the portrait
by Carruthers, now in the possession of Mr. Hutchinson at Kimbolton.
The Galignani edition of Southey is even worse; three poems, not by
Southey, being included in it.--ED.

[447] The editor of these selections was Joseph Hine.--ED.

[448] The “Advertisement” to this edition is as follows:--“The contents
of the last edition in five volumes are compressed into the present
of four, with some additional pieces reprinted from miscellaneous

[449] As this volume (No. 32 in the list) was the last printed for the
Messrs. Longman, and issued by that firm and by Mr. Moxon jointly,
it is desirable to mention here, in a footnote, that, with the
exception of _The Evening Walk_ and _Descriptive Sketches_ (which were
published by J. Johnson) every one of Wordsworth’s works from 1798 to
1836--thirty in number--were introduced to the world by the Messrs.
Longman. It is questionable if any firm has ever had a similar “record”
in connection with the works of any great poet.--ED.

[450] A reprint of the sixth volume of the 1836-37 edition. It was
again reprinted in 1841, 1844, and 1847.--ED.

[451] Volumes one and two are dated 1836; the remaining four 1837. This
edition was stereotyped. It was reprinted in 1840, 1841, 1842, 1843,
1846, 1849, etc.; and some of the reprints contain slight variations
of text, etc. All the editions issued after 1841 include the volume,
_Poems of Early and Late Years_ (see No. 37) as a seventh volume. After
1850 _The Prelude_ was added as an eighth volume.

In the first volume of this edition there is a steel engraving by
Mr. Watt of a portrait of the Poet by W. Pickersgill, which is in
St. John’s College, Cambridge. This engraving was reproduced in the
editions of 1840, 1841, and following ones.--ED.

[452] This edition includes (as its “Advertisement” tells us) “twelve
new Sonnets which were composed while the sheets were going through the

[453] Mr. Tutin writes in his Wordsworth Bibliography:--“This Pocket
edition of _Yarrow Revisited_, etc., is the third separate issue of the
Poem. It seems to have been intended as a supplementary volume to the
four vol. edition of 1832, as the sheets of it are all imprinted ‘Vol.
v.,’ but I have no direct proof that it was ever so issued.”--ED.

[454] In his “Advertisement” the Author states that about one-third of
the Poem _Guilt and Sorrow_ was written in 1794, and was published in
the year 1798 under the title of _The Female Vagrant_.--ED.

[455] This volume is dedicated “To her Most Sacred Majesty,

[456] Frequently republished. After 1851 _The Prelude_ was included.
The edition of 1869 has “nine additional poems,” dated 1846. All the
editions which I have seen contain an engraving by Mr. Finden from the
bust of Wordsworth by Chantrey--the original of which is at Coleorton
Hall--and a picture of Rydal Mount engraved by Mr. House after Finden.
Professor Dowden tells us that, in some later editions “the Pickersgill
portrait, engraved by J. Skelton, replaces Chantrey’s bust.” In this
edition, as in that of 1815, Wordsworth gave dates to his poems.--ED.

[457] Volumes I. and II. are dated 1849, and Volumes III.-VI. 1850.
_The Excursion_ formed the sixth volume. It was reprinted separately in
1851, 1853, and 1857.--ED.




1850. THE PRELUDE, OR GROWTH OF A POET’S MIND; an Autobiographical
Poem; by William Wordsworth. London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street. Demy


1851. THE PRELUDE, OR GROWTH OF A POET’S MIND; an Autobiographical
Poem; By William Wordsworth. Second Edition. London: Edward Moxon,
Dover Street. Fcap. 8vo.


Edward Moxon. Sq. 12mo.


Edition. London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street. 8vo.[458]


Editions. With Preface, and Notes showing the text as it stood in 1815.
By William Johnston. London: Edward Moxon, Dover Street. Fcap. 8vo.


1859. THE DESERTED COTTAGE. By William Wordsworth. Illustrated with
twenty-one designs by Birket Foster, J. Wolf, and John Gilbert,
engraved by the Brothers Dalziel. London: George Routledge and Co.,
Farringdon Street. New York: 18 Beekman Street. Small 4to.[459]


POEMS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Selected and Edited by Robert Aris
Willmott, Incumbent of Bear Wood. Illustrated with one hundred designs
by Birket Foster, J. Wolf, and John Gilbert, Engraved by the Brothers
Dalziel. London: George Routledge and Co., Farringdon Street. New York:
18 Beekman Street, MDCCCLIX. Small 4to.


Wordsworth. London: Longman, Brown, Green, Longmans, and Roberts. Small


PASSAGES FROM “THE EXCURSION,” by William Wordsworth, Illustrated
with Etchings on Steel by Agnes Fraser. London: published by Paul and
Dominic Colnaghi and Co., publishers to Her Majesty, 13 and 14 Pall
Mall East. Oblong 4to.[461]


Illustrations by Birket Foster, and others. London: Longman, Brown,
Green, Longmans, and Roberts.


PASTORAL POEMS, by William Wordsworth. London: Sampson, Low, etc.


Edition. In two volumes. Leipzig, Bernhard Tauchnitz.[462]


Moxon’s Miniature Poets. Selected and arranged by Francis Turner
Palgrave. Published in London: Edward Moxon & Co., Dover Street. Sq.


THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. A new Edition. London: Edward Moxon &
Co., Dover Street.


William Wordsworth. London: Bell and Daldy, 186 Fleet Street. 8vo.[464]


Edward Moxon, Son, & Co., 44 Dover Street, Piccadilly.


Memoir, by William Michael Rossetti. Illustrated by artistic etchings
by Edwin Edwards. London: E. Moxon, Son, & Co., Dover Street. Small 4to.


Memoir, by William Michael Rossetti. Illustrated by Henry Dell. London:
E. Moxon, Son, & Co., Dover Street. 8vo.[465]


collected, with additions from unpublished manuscripts. Edited, with
Preface, Notes and Illustrations, by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart, St.
George’s, Blackburn, Lancashire. In three volumes. Volume I. Political
and Ethical. Volume II. Æsthetical and Literary. Volume III. Critical
and Ethical. London: Edward Moxon, Son, and Co., 1 Amen Corner,
Paternoster Row. 8vo.


1879. POEMS OF WORDSWORTH, chosen and edited by Matthew Arnold. London:
Macmillan and Co. 18mo.[466]


LL.D., Professor of Moral Philosophy, St. Andrews. Edinburgh: William


SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. Edited, with an Introductory Memoir, by J.
S. Fletcher. London: Alex. Gardner, 12 Paternoster Row, and Paisley.
MDCCCLXXXIII. Fcap. 8vo. Parchment.[468]


1883. WINNOWINGS FROM WORDSWORTH. Edited by J. Robertson. Simpkin & Co.




1884. THE RIVER DUDDON. A Series of Sonnets. By William Wordsworth.
With ten Etchings by R. S. Chattock, The Fine Art Society, 148 New Bond
Street, London. Folio.


THE SONNETS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Collected in one volume, with an
Essay on The History of the English Sonnet by Richard Chenevix Trench,
D.D., Archbishop of Dublin, Chancellor of the Order of St. Patrick.
London: Suttaby and Co., Amen Corner. MDCCCLXXXIV. 8vo.[469]


SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. By Misses Wordsworth. London: Kegan Paul, &
Co. April 8, 1884.


THE WORDSWORTH BIRTHDAY BOOK. Edited by Adelaide and Violet Wordsworth.
London: Kegan Paul, Trench, & Co.




THE GOLDEN POETS. “Wordsworth.” London: Marcus Ward & Co. N. D.


Notice, Biographical and Critical. By Andrew James Symington. London:
Walter Scott, 14 Paternoster Square and Newcastle-on-Tyne. 16mo.[470]


WORDSWORTH’S EXCURSION. THE WANDERER. Edited, with Notes, etc., by H.
H. Turner. London: Rivingtons. N. D.




in 1892.)


1887. THROUGH THE WORDSWORTH COUNTRY. By Harry Goodwin and Professor
Knight. London: Swan Sonnenschein, Lowrey & Co., Paternoster Square.
Imperial 8vo.[471]


WORDSWORTH AND KEATS, Selections. In 16mo. M. Ward.


Introduction by John Morley. With a Portrait. London: Macmillan & Co.
Crown 8vo.


1888. SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. By William Knight, and other Members
of the Wordsworth Society. With Preface and Notes. London: Kegan
Paul, Trench, & Co., 1 Paternoster Square. MDCCCLXXXVIII. Large Crown


1888. THE RECLUSE. By William Wordsworth. London: Macmillan and Co.[473]


1888. THE POETICAL WORKS OF WORDSWORTH. With Memoir, Explanatory Notes,
etc. London: Griffith, Farren, & Co., Newbury House, Charing Cross Road.


PROSE WRITINGS OF WORDSWORTH: Selected and Edited, with an
Introduction, by William Knight. London: Walter Scott. No date.


1889. WE ARE SEVEN. Illustrated by Agnes Gardner King. 16mo.


1891. LYRICS AND SONNETS OF WORDSWORTH. With Introduction and
Bibliography. By Clement R. Shorter. Scott Library. 32mo.


Edward Dowden. London: George Bell & Sons. 1892-1893.[474]


1891. LYRICAL BALLADS, ETC. A reprint of the original edition of 1798.
Edited by Edward Dowden. London: David Nutt. 16mo.


CASTLE. Edited, with introduction and notes, by William Knight. Oxford:
At the Clarendon Press.


and Mitchell. 1892.


WORDSWORTH FOR THE YOUNG. With notes by J.C. Wright. 8vo. 1893.


1895. THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, with introductions and
notes. Edited by Thomas Hutchinson, M.A. London: Henry Froude, Oxford
University Press Warehouse, Amen Corner, E.C.


THE PENNY POETS, in “The Masterpiece Library.” Wordsworth. Nos. XXXII.


1896. LYRIC POEMS. Edited by Ernest Rhys. 8vo. London: Dent & Co.


THE PRELUDE; OR, GROWTH OF A POET’S MIND. 18mo. London: Dent & Co.


“The Lansdowne Poets” included one of Wordsworth. The “Albion” edition
was published by Messrs. Froude, Oxford University Press.[475]

[458] In this edition--reprinted as “The Centenary Edition” in 1870,
1881, and 1882--the Fenwick notes were printed, for the first time in
full, as prefatory notes to the poems.--ED.

[459] Reproduced in 1864.--ED.

[460] It contains illustrations by H. N. Humphreys and Birket

[461] This volume contains eleven etchings of varying merit.--ED.

[462] These are volumes 707 and 708 of Tauchnitz’s “Collection of
British Authors.”--ED.

[463] It contains a steel engraving from Chantrey’s bust of the Poet.
This selection was re-issued in 1866, and 1869; and, recently, in a
small pocket edition.--ED.

[464] This is a reprint, in a different form, of No. 8.--ED.

[465] In this edition, which is a reprint, on smaller paper, of No. 19.
there is an engraving from one of the portraits of the Poet by Miss
Gillies. The engraving first appeared in Volume I. of _The New Spirit
of the Age_, edited by R. H. Horne.--ED.

[466] It contains an idealised engraving of one of Haydon’s portraits
of Wordsworth, after Lupton, by C. H. Jeens, and on the outside cover a
drawing of Dove Cottage.--ED.

[467] In this edition the Poems were arranged for the first time
in the chronological order of composition; the changes of text, in
the successive editions, were given in footnotes, with the dates of
these changes; many new readings, or suggested changes of text--which
were written by the Poet on the margins of a copy of the edition of
1836-37, kept at Rydal Mount, and afterwards in the possession of Lord
Coleridge--were added; all the Fenwick notes were printed as Prefatory
notes; Topographical notes--containing allusions to localities in the
English Lake District, and elsewhere--were given; several Poems and
Fragments hitherto unpublished were printed; a Bibliography of the
Poems, and of editions published in England and America from 1793 to
1850 was added. Etchings of localities associated with the Poet, from
drawings by Mr. MacWhirter, were given as frontispieces to Volumes I.,
II., III., IV., V., VI., and VII. The text adopted was Wordsworth’s
final text of 1849-50.--ED.

[468] It contains an engraving of Rydal Mount on the fly-leaf.--ED.

[469] This volume is a reprint of Wordsworth’s own edition of his
Sonnets, published in 1838, with the addition of Archbishop Trench’s
_History of the English Sonnet_.--ED.

[470] This is one of the volumes of _The Canterbury Poets_. It is only
a selection, though described on the title as “The Poetical Works.”--ED.

[471] This volume contains fifty-five engravings from drawings by
Harry Goodwin of scenes in the English Lake District associated with
Wordsworth, with the poems, or portions of poems, referring to the

[472] The poems are arranged in chronological order of composition;
and there is, as frontispiece, an etched portrait of the Poet from a
miniature by Margaret Gillies in the possession of Sir Henry Doulton.
Amongst those who contributed to it were Robert Browning, James
Russell Lowell, the late Lord Selborne, Mr. R. H. Hutton, the Dean
of Salisbury, the late Lord Coleridge, the Rev. Stopford Brooke, Mr.
Aubrey de Vere, the late Lord Houghton, Canon Rawnsley, the late
Principals Shairp and Greenwood and Professor Veitch, Mr. Spence
Watson, Mr. Rix, Mr. Heard, Mr. Cotterill, the late Bishop Wordsworth
of St. Andrews, and the Editor.--ED.

[473] In the prefatory advertisement to the first edition of _The
Prelude_ 1850, it is stated that that poem was designed to be
introductory to _The Recluse_, and that _The Recluse_ if completed,
would have consisted of three parts. The second part is _The
Excursion_. The third part was only planned. The first book of the
first part was left in manuscript by Wordsworth. It was published for
the first time _in extenso_ in 1888.--ED.

[474] This Aldine edition, by Professor Dowden, is one of great merit,
and permanent value. Although it is not immaculate--as no literary work
ever is--as a contribution to Wordsworthian Literature it will hold an
honoured place. Its “critical apparatus” is succinct and admirable.--ED.

[475] Mr. Andrew Lang tells me that he is about to edit a _Selection_
of the Poems, for the Messrs. Longman; which will, no doubt, be as
useful, and popular, as Matthew Arnold’s Selection has been.--ED.



1811. SEWARD, ANNA. Letters written between the Years 1784 and 1807.
Edited by A. Constable, vol. vi. No. 66.[477] 8vo. Edinburgh.

1817. COLERIDGE, S. T. Biographia Literaria; or, Biographical Sketches
of my Literary Life and Opinions. 2 vols. 8vo. London: Rest Fenner.
Second Edition. London: William Pickering. 1847. Bohn’s Standard
Library. 1866.

COLERIDGE, S. T. In _The Friend, passim_. Second Edition. London: Rest

HAZLITT, WILLIAM. The Round Table: a Collection of Essays on
Literature, Men, and Manners. Observations on Mr. Wordsworth’s Poem,
“The Excursion.” 12mo. London: Templeman. Also in Bohn’s Standard
Library. Edited by W. Carew Hazlitt. Pp. 158-176. London. 1871.

1818. HAZLITT, WILLIAM. Lectures on the English Poets. 8vo. London:
Taylor and Hessey. Also in Bohn’s Standard Library. 1870.

1819. HAZLITT, WILLIAM. Political Essays, with Sketches of Public
Characters. My First Acquaintance with Poets. 8vo. London: Templeman.
Also in Winterslow, pp. 255-277. Bohn’s Standard Library. 1872.

1823. SOLIGNY, VICTOIRE DE, COUNT, _pseud._ (_i.e._ Peter George
Patmore, father of the late Coventry Patmore). Letters on England, vol.
ii. pp. 7-19. 8vo. London: Henry Colburn and Co.

1824. LANDOR, W. S. Imaginary Conversations of Literary Men and
Statesmen. Southey and Porson, i. 39. 8vo. London: Taylor and Hessey.
New Edition, i. 11, 68, 182. London: Edward Moxon. 1846. New Edition,
iv. 18. London: Chapman and Hall. 1876.

1825. HAZLITT, WILLIAM. The Spirit of the Age; or, Contemporary
Portraits. 8vo. London: Henry Colburn and Co.; Fourth Edition. George
Bell and Sons. 1886.

1827. HONE, WILLIAM. The Table Book. Wordsworth, ii. 275. 8vo. London:
Hunt and Clarke.

COLERIDGE, S. T. Table Talk. July 21, 1832; July 31, 1832; February 16,

1833. MONTGOMERY, JAMES. Lectures on Poetry and General Literature,
delivered at the Royal Institution in 1830 and 1831. Wordsworth’s
Theory of Poetic Diction, pp. 134-141. 8vo. London: Longmans.

1836. Conversations at Cambridge. The Poet Wordsworth and Professor
Smythe, pp. 235-252. 8vo. London: John W. Parker.

1837. COTTLE, JOSEPH. Early Recollections; chiefly relating to the late
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, during his long Residence in Bristol. 2 vols.
8vo. London: Longman, Rees and Co.

1838. CHORLEY, H. F. The Authors of England. 4to. London. New Edition,
revised (by G. B.) London. 1861.

HARE, JULIUS C. and AUGUSTUS W. Guesses at Truth, by Two Brothers.
Second Series. 8vo. London: Taylor and Walton. The Dedication of this
edition is to William Wordsworth. New Edition, in one volume. Macmillan
and Co. 1866.

1840. HUNT, LEIGH. The Seer. “Wordsworth and Milton,” pp. 5-53. London:
Edward Moxon.

RUSKIN, JOHN. Modern Painters (1843-1860), _passim_ in all the five
volumes. London: George Allen.

1843. CHAMBERS, ROBERT. Cyclopædia of English Literature. Wordsworth,
ii. 322-333. Fourth Edition, revised by Robert Carruthers, LL.D. 1888.
8vo. Edinburgh: William and Robert Chambers.

1844. HORNE, R. H. A New Spirit of the Age. William Wordsworth and
Leigh Hunt, vol. i. pp. 307-332. 12mo. London: Smith, Elder and Co.

KEBLE, JOHN. Praelectiones Academicae Oxonii habitae, annis
MDCCCXXXII.-MDCCCXLI., tom. ii. pp. 615, 789. 8vo. Oxonii: J. H. Parker.

1845. GILFILLAN, GEORGE. A Gallery of Literary Portraits. 12mo.
Edinburgh: Groombridge.

CRAIK, E. L. Sketches of the History of Literature and Learning in
England. Vol. vi., pp. 114-139. London: Charles Knight.

1847. HOWITT, WILLIAM. Homes and Haunts of the most eminent British
Poets, vol. ii. pp. 259-291. 8vo. London: Richard Bentley. Third
Edition. Routledge and Sons. 1862.

TUCKERMAN, HENRY T. Thoughts on the Poets. 8vo. London: J. Chapman.

1849. GILFILLAN, GEORGE. A Second Gallery of Literary Portraits. 8vo.
Edinburgh: Groombridge.

SHAW, THOMAS B. Outlines of English Literature. Wordsworth, pp.
518-526. 8vo. London: John Murray. Sixteenth Edition, edited by William
Smith, D.C.L. 1887.

TAYLOR, HENRY. Notes from Books. In four Essays. Wordsworth’s Poetical
Works and Sonnets, pp. 1-186. 8vo. London: John Murray. Works: Author’s
Edition, vol. v. London: C. Kegan Paul and Co. 1878.

1849-50. SOUTHEY, ROBERT. Life and Correspondence. Edited by the Rev.
Charles Cuthbert Southey. 6 vols. Comments on Wordsworth in chaps,
ix.-xiii. xv. xix. xxvi. xxxii. and xxxvi. 8vo. London: Longman, Brown,
Green and Longmans.

1851. GILLIES, R. P. Memoirs of a Literary Veteran; including Sketches
and Anecdotes of the most distinguished Literary Characters from 1794
to 1849. Wordsworth, vol. ii. pp. 136-173. 8vo. London: Richard Bentley.

The Poetic Companion, vol. i., pp. 168-173. A Biographical and Critical
Sketch of William Wordsworth.

MOIR, D. M. Sketches of the Poetical Literature of the past
Half-Century, pp. 59-81; 120. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons.
Third Edition, 1856.

WORDSWORTH, CHRISTOPHER. Memoirs of William Wordsworth, Poet-Laureate,
D.C.L. 2 vols. 8vo. London: Edward Moxon. 1851.

1852. JANUARY SEARLE (George S. Phillips). Memoirs of William
Wordsworth, compiled from Authentic Sources. 12mo. London: Partridge
and Oakey.

MITFORD, M. R. Recollections of a Literary Life; or, Books, Places, and
People, vol. iii. chap. i. 8vo. London: Richard Bentley.

1853. An Essay on the Poetry of Wordsworth, 72 pp. 8vo. Liverpool.

AUSTIN, W. S., and JOHN RALPH. The Lives of the Poets-Laureate. With
an Introductory Essay on the Title and Office. William Wordsworth, pp.
396-428. 8vo. London: Richard Bentley.

WRIGHT, JOHN. The Genius of Wordsworth harmonised with the Wisdom and
Integrity of his Reviewers. 8vo. London: Longman, Brown, Green and

SPALDING, WILLIAM. The History of English Literature. 8vo. Edinburgh:
Oliver & Boyd.

1854. DE QUINCEY, THOMAS. Autobiographic Sketches. Early Memorials
of Grasmere, vol. ii. pp. 104-141; William Wordsworth, pp. 227-314;
William Wordsworth and Robert Southey, pp. 315-345. 8vo. Edinburgh:
James Hogg. Also Collected Writings. New and Enlarged Edition. By David
Masson. Edinburgh: Adam and Charles Black. 1889-90.

SPALDING, WILLIAM. Wordsworth, pp. 849-851. Cyclopædia of Biography,
edited by Elihu Rich. 8vo. Glasgow: Richard Griffin and Co.

MOORE, THOMAS. Memoirs, Journal, and Correspondence of. Edited by the
Right Honourable Lord John Russell, vol. iii. pp. 161, 163; vol. iv.
pp. 48, 335; vol. vii pp. 72, 85, 197-8; vol. viii. pp. 69, 73, 291.

1856. CARLYON, CLEMENT. Early Years and Late Reflections, vol. i. 8vo.
London: Whittaker and Co.

HOOD, E. P. William Wordsworth: a Biography. 8vo. London: W. and F. G.

MASSON, DAVID. Essays, Biographical and Critical: chiefly on English
Poets. Wordsworth, pp. 346-390. 8vo. Cambridge: Macmillan and Co.
Reprinted from _The North British Review_, August 1850.

ROGERS, SAMUEL. Recollections of the Table Talk of Samuel Rogers. 8vo.
London: Edward Moxon.

WILSON, JOHN. Noctes Ambrosianae, vols. i.-iii. 8vo. Edinburgh: William
Blackwood and Sons. New Edition, 1864.

WILSON, JOHN. Essays, Critical and Imaginative. Wordsworth, vol. i. pp.
387-408. 8vo. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons.

1857. DE QUINCEY, THOMAS. Sketches, Critical and Biographic. On
Wordsworth’s Poetry, vol. v. pp. 234-268. 8vo. Edinburgh: James Hogg
and Sons.

REED, HENRY. Lectures on the British Poets. Wordsworth, Lecture XV.
8vo. London.

WILSON, JOHN. Recreations of Christopher North, vol. ii. Sacred Poetry.
Wordsworth, pp. 54-70. 8vo. Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons.

1858. BRIMLEY, GEORGE. Essays. Edited by William George Clark, M.A.
Wordsworth’s Poems, pp. 104-187. 8vo. Cambridge: Macmillan and Co.
Second Edition, 1860. Third Edition, 1882. Reprinted from _Fraser’s
Magazine_, 1851.

ROBERTSON, F. W. Lectures and Addresses on Literary and Social Topics.
Wordsworth, pp. 203-256. 8vo. London: Smith, Elder and Co.

THE ENGLISH CYCLOPÆDIA. A New Dictionary of Universal Knowledge.
Conducted by Charles Knight. Wordsworth, vol. vi. pp. 808-812.

1859. MILL, J. S. Dissertations and Discussions. Thoughts on Poetry and
its Varieties, i. 63-94. 8vo. London: John W. Parker and Son. Second
Edition. Longmans, Green, Reader and Dyer. 1867.

1860. CARRUTHERS, R. William Wordsworth. The _Encyclopædia Britannica_,
Eighth Edition, xxi. 929-932. 4to. Edinburgh: Adam and Charles Black.

1861. CRAIK, GEORGE L. A Compendious History of English Literature,
and of the English Language from the Norman Conquest. Wordsworth, ii.
435-456; 463-467; 473. 8vo. London: Griffin, Bohn and Co.

1862. GORDON, MRS. “Christopher North.” A Memoir of John Wilson,
compiled from Family Papers and other Sources. 2 vols. 8vo. Edinburgh:
Edmonston and Douglas. New Edition, 1879.

PATTERSON, A. S. Poets and Preachers of the Nineteenth Century: Four
Lectures, Biographical and Critical, on Wordsworth, Montgomery, Hall,
and Chalmers. 8vo. Glasgow: A. Hall.

1863. RUSHTON, WILLIAM. The Classical and Romantic Schools of English
Literature, as represented by Spenser, Dryden, Pope, Scott, and
Wordsworth. The Afternoon Lectures on English Literature, delivered in
Dublin, pp. 43-92. 8vo. London: Bell and Daldy.

1864. COLQUHOUN, J. C. Scattered Leaves of Biography. IV.--Life of
William Wordsworth. 8vo. London: Macintosh.

KNIGHT, CHARLES. Passages from a Working Life during half a century:
with a prelude of Early Reminiscences, vol. iii. chap. ii. pp. 27-29.

1865. The Imperial Dictionary of Universal Biography. Edited by J. F.
WALLER. Wordsworth, vol. vi. p. 1389. 8vo. London: W. Mackenzie.

1865. DENNIS, JOHN. Evenings in Arcadia. Edited by John Dennis. 12mo.

1868. BUCHANAN, ROBERT. David Gray, and Other Essays, chiefly on
Poetry. Sampson Low.

MACDONALD, GEORGE. England’s Antiphon, pp. 303-7. 8vo. London.

SHAIRP, J. C. Studies in Poetry and Philosophy. Wordsworth: the Man
and the Poet, pp. 1-115. 8vo. Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas. Third
Edition, 1876. Fourth Edition, 1886.

_Chambers’s Encyclopædia._ A Dictionary of Universal Knowledge for the
People. Wordsworth, vol. x. pp. 272-274. New Edition, pp. 737-740.
1892. 8vo. London: W. and R. Chambers.

1869. CLOUGH, A. H. Poems and Prose Remains. Lecture on the Poetry of
Wordsworth, vol. i. pp. 309-325. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

G., F. J. The Old College, being the Glasgow University Album for
MDCCCLXIX. Edited by Students. William Wordsworth, pp. 243-259. 8vo.
Glasgow: James Maclehose.

GRAVES, R. P. Recollections of Wordsworth and the Lake Country. The
Afternoon Lectures on Literature and Art, delivered in Dublin, pp.
275-321. 8vo. Dublin: William M’Gee.

MARTINEAU, HARRIET. Biographical Sketches. Mrs. Wordsworth, pp.
402-408. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

ROBINSON, HENRY CRABB. Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence.
Selected and edited by Thomas Sadler. 3 vols. 8vo. London: Macmillan
and Co.

1870. EMERSON, R. W. English Traits, First Visit to England. Bohn’s
Standard Library; also Macmillan and Co. 1883.

1871. HUTTON, R. H. Essays, Theological and Literary. Wordsworth and
his Genius, vol. ii. Literary Essays, pp. 101-146. 8vo. London: Strahan
and Co. Second Edition, 1877.

TAINE, H. A. History of English Literature. Translated by H. Van
Laun. With a preface by the author. Vol. ii. pp. 248; 260-265. 8vo.
Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas.

HALL, S. C. A Book of Memories of Great Men and Women of the Age, from
Personal Acquaintance. London: Virtue and Co. Wordsworth, pp. 287-318.

1872. COOPER, THOMAS, Life of: An Autobiography. Reminiscence of
Wordsworth (first published in _Cooper’s Journal_, May 1850), pp.

DE MORGAN, AUGUSTUS. A Budget of Paradoxes. Wordsworth and Byron, p.
435. 8vo. London: Longmans, Green and Co.

NEAVES, CHARLES (Lord Neaves). A Lecture on Cheap and Accessible
Pleasures. With a Comparative Sketch of the Poetry of Burns and
Wordsworth, etc. 8vo. Edinburgh.

YONGE, CHARLES D. Three Centuries of English Literature. Wordsworth,
pp. 251-267. 8vo. London: Longmans, Green and Co.

1873. COLERIDGE, SARA. Memoir and Letters. Edited by her Daughter. 2
vols. 8vo. London: Henry S. King and Co.

DEVEY, JOSEPH. A Comparative Estimate of Modern English Poets.
Wordsworth, pp. 87-103. 8vo. London: Moxon and Son.

LONSDALE, HENRY. The Worthies of Cumberland. William Wordsworth, vol.
iv. pp. 1-40. 8vo. London: George Routledge and Sons.

MORLEY, H. A First Sketch of English Literature. 8vo. London: Cassell,
Petter, and Galpin.

NICHOLS, W. L. The Quantocks and their Associations. A Paper read
before the Members of the Bath Literary Club. 12mo. Bath. Printed for
Private Circulation. Second Edition. London: Sampson Low, Marston and

1874. BROOKE, STOPFORD A. Theology in the English Poets. Wordsworth,
pp. 93-286. 8vo. London: Henry S. King and Co.

MASSON, DAVID. Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and other Essays.
Wordsworth, pp. 3-74. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

WORDSWORTH, DOROTHY. Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland, A.D.
1803. Edited by J. C. Shairp. 8vo. Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas.

1875. FLETCHER, MRS. Autobiography. With Letters and other Family
Memorials. 8vo. Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas.

1876. FORSTER, JOHN. The Works and Life of Walter Savage Landor. Vol.
i. The Life. 8vo. London: Chapman and Hall.

LAMB, CHARLES. The Life, Letters, and Writings of Charles Lamb. Edited,
with Notes and Illustrations, by Percy Fitzgerald. References to, and
Criticisms of Wordsworth in vols. i. ii. 8vo. London: E. Moxon and Co.

LOWELL, J. RUSSELL. Among my Books. Second Series. Wordsworth, pp.
201-251. 8vo. London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington.

MORLEY, HENRY. Cassell’s Library of English Literature. Vols. iii.,
iv., v. Wordsworth. 8vo. London: Cassell, Petter, and Galpin.

STEDMAN, E. C. Victorian Poets. 8vo. London: Chatto and Windus.

TICKNOR, GEORGE. Life, Letters, and Journals. 2 vols. 8vo. London:
Sampson Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington.

1877. DOYLE, SIR FRANCIS H. Lectures on Poetry delivered at Oxford.
Second Series. Wordsworth Lectures, i.-iii. pp. 1-77. 8vo. London:
Smith, Elder and Co.

SHAIRP, J. C. On Poetic Interpretation of Nature. Wordsworth as an
Interpreter of Nature, pp. 225-270. 8vo. Edinburgh: David Douglas.

ADAMS (W. DAVENPORT). Dictionary of English Literature. Wordsworth, pp.
700-701. 8vo. London: Cassell, Petter, and Galpin.

1878. DOWDEN, E. Studies in Literature, 1789-1877. The Prose Works of
Wordsworth, pp. 122-158. 8vo. London: C. Kegan Paul and Co.

KNIGHT, WILLIAM. The English Lake District as Interpreted in the Poems
of Wordsworth. 12mo. Edinburgh: David Douglas. Second Edition, revised
and enlarged 1891.

ROSSETTI, W. M. Lives of Various Poets. Wordsworth, pp. 203-218. 8vo.
London: E. Moxon and Son.

The Treasury of Modern Biography. Edited by Robert Cochrane.
Wordsworth, pp. 98-116. 8vo. Edinburgh: W. P. Nimmo.

1879. BAGEHOT, WALTER. Literary Studies. Edited by Richard Holt Hutton.
Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning; or, Pure, Ornate, and Grotesque Art
in English Poetry, vol. ii. pp. 338-390. 8vo. London: Longmans, Green
and Co.

KNIGHT, WILLIAM. Studies in Philosophy and Literature. Wordsworth, pp.
283-317. Nature as Interpreted by Wordsworth, pp. 405-426. 8vo. London:
C. Kegan Paul and Co.

STEPHEN, LESLIE. Hours in a Library. Third Series. Wordsworth’s Ethics,
pp. 178-229. 8vo. London: Smith, Elder and Co.

1880. BAYNE, PETER. Two Great Englishwomen: Mrs. Browning and Charlotte
Brontë. With an Essay on Poetry, illustrated from Wordsworth, Burns,
and Byron, pp. xi.-lxxviii. 8vo. London: James Clarke and Co.

CHURCH, R. W. William Wordsworth. The English Poets. Edited by Thomas
Humphry Ward, vol. iv. pp. 1-15. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

MAIN, DAVID M. A Treasury of English Sonnets. Edited from the Original
Sources, with Notes and Illustrations, pp. 365-390. 8vo. Manchester:
Alexander Ireland and Co.

MYERS, F. W. H. Wordsworth (English Men of Letters). 8vo. Macmillan and

1881. CARLYLE, THOMAS. Reminiscences. Edited by James Anthony Froude.
Vol. ii. pp. 330-341. 8vo. London: Longmans, Green and Co.

DOWDEN, E. The Correspondence of Robert Southey with Caroline Bowles.
Edited, with an Introduction, by Edward Dowden. 8vo. Dublin: Hodges,
Figgis, and Co.

MILNER, GEORGE. The Literature and Scenery of the English Lake
District. Reprinted from the Papers of the Manchester Literary Club,
vol. vii. pp. 1-21. 8vo. Manchester.

SHAIRP, J. C. Aspects of Poetry, being Lectures delivered at Oxford.
The Three Yarrows, pp. 316-344. The White Doe of Rylstone, pp. 345-376.
8vo. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

SHORTHOUSE, J. H. On the Platonism of Wordsworth. A Paper read to the
Wordsworth Society, 19th July 1881. 4to. Birmingham: Cornish Brothers.

SYMINGTON, A. J. William Wordsworth: a Biographical Sketch, with
Selections from his Writings in Poetry and Prose. 2 vols. 8vo. London:
Blackie and Son.

1882. BUCKLAND, ANNA. The Story of English Literature. 8vo. London:
Cassell and Co.

COTTERILL, H. B. An Introduction to the Study of Poetry. Wordsworth,
pp. 208-241. 8vo. London: Kegan Paul, Trench and Co.

OLIPHANT, MRS. The Literary History of England in the end of the
Eighteenth and beginning of the Nineteenth Century. 3 vols. 8vo.
London: Macmillan and Co.

SCHERER, J. A History of English Literature. Translated from the German
by M. V. 8vo. London: Sampson Low and Co.

SEELEY, J. R. Natural Religion. By the Author of _Ecce Homo_, pp.
94-111. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

IRELAND, ALEXANDER. Recollections of George Dawson, etc., pp. 22-25.

1883. CAINE, T. HALL. Cobwebs of Criticism. A Review of the First
Reviewers of the “Lake,” “Satanic,” and “Cockney” Schools. Wordsworth,
pp. 1-29. 8vo. London: Elliot Stock.

DENNIS, JOHN. Heroes of Literature: English Poets. William Wordsworth,
pp. 278-299. 8vo. London: S.P.C.K.

HALL, S. C. Retrospect of a Long Life: from 1815 to 1883. Wordsworth,
vol. ii. pp. 36-42. 8vo. London: Richard Bentley and Son.

HAWTHORNE, N. English Note-Books, vol. ii. 8vo. London: Kegan Paul,
Trench and Co.

The Lyme Parish Church Magazine. Lyme-Regis: Walton.

1884. HOFFMANN, F. A. Poetry, its Origin, Nature, and History.
Wordsworth, chap. xxvi. pp. 359-375. 8vo. London: Thurgate and Sons.

KERR, R. N. Our English Laureates and the Birds. Dundee: John Leng
and Co. Pp. 29-51. (Originally published in the _Newcastle Weekly

NICHOLSON, ALBERT. The Literature of the English Lake District.

SHORTER, C. K. William Wordsworth. The National Cyclopædia: a
Dictionary of Universal Knowledge. New Edition. 8vo. London: W.

TRAILL, H. D. Coleridge. English Men of Letters. 8vo. London: Macmillan
and Co.

1885. COURTHOPE, W. J. The Liberal Movement in English Literature.
Essay III. Wordsworth’s Theory of Poetry, pp. 71-108. 8vo. London: John

ELIOT, GEORGE. George Eliot’s Life, as related in her Letters and
Journals. By J. W. Cross. Vol. i. p. 61; iii. 388. 8vo. Edinburgh: W.
Blackwood and Sons.

HUTTON, LAWRENCE. Literary Landmarks, pp. 321-7. London: T. Fisher

CARNE, JOHN, Letters of, 1813-1837. Privately printed. Pp. 133-138.

TAYLOR, SIR HENRY. Autobiography 1800-1875. 2 vols. 8vo. London:
Longmans, Green and Co.

1886. DAWSON, GEORGE. Biographical Lectures. Edited by George St.
Clair. The Poetry of Wordsworth, pp. 251-307. 8vo. London: Kegan Paul,
Trench and Co.

LAW, DAVID. Wordsworth’s Country. A series of Five Etchings of the
English Lake District. 24mo. London: Robert Dunthorne.

LEE, EDMUND. Dorothy Wordsworth. The Story of a Sister’s Love. 8vo.
London: James Clarke and Co. New and revised edition 1894.

NICHOLSON, CORNELIUS. Wordsworth and Coleridge: Two Parallel Sketches.
Ventnor: R. Madley. 1886.

NOEL, HON. RODEN B. W. Essays on Poetry and Poets. Wordsworth, pp.
132-149. 8vo. London: Kegan Paul, Trench and Co.

SWINBURNE, A. C. Miscellanies, Wordsworth and Byron, pp. 63-156. 8vo.
London. 1886.

LAUNCELOT CROSS (F. Carr). Thinkers of the World in relation to the
New Church. 1. Childhood as revealed in Wordsworth; 2. Wordsworth on
Infancy and Youth. N.D.

1887. DE VERE, AUBREY. Essays, chiefly on Poetry. The Genius and
Passion of Wordsworth, vol. i. pp. 101-173; The Wisdom and Truth of
Wordsworth’s Poetry, vol. i. pp. 174-264; Recollections of Wordsworth,
vol. ii. pp. 275-295. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

GOODWIN, H., and WILLIAM KNIGHT. Through the Wordsworth Country. 8vo.
London: Swan Sonnenschein, Lowrey and Co. Third Edition, 1892.

LOWELL, J. RUSSELL. Democracy and other Addresses, pp. 137-156. 8vo.
London: Macmillan and Co.

Memorials of Coleorton: being Letters from Coleridge, Wordsworth and
his Sister, Southey, and Sir Walter Scott, to Sir George and Lady
Beaumont of Coleorton, Leicestershire, 1803 to 1834. Edited, with
Introduction and Notes, by William Knight. 2 vols. 8vo. Edinburgh:
David Douglas.

SUTHERLAND, J. M. William Wordsworth: the Story of his Life, with
Critical Remarks on his Writings. 8vo. London: Elliot Stock.

1888. ARNOLD, MATTHEW. Essays in Criticism. Second Series. Wordsworth,
pp. 122-162. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

CHURCH, R. W. Dante and other Essays. William Wordsworth, pp. 193-219.
8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

DOWDEN, E. Transcripts and Studies. The Text of Wordsworth’s Poems, pp.
112-152. 8vo. London: Kegan Paul, Trench and Co. Reprinted from _The
Contemporary Review_.

INGLEBY, C. M. Essays. Edited by his Son. 8vo. Trübner and Co.

MINTO, W. William Wordsworth. The _Encyclopædia Britannica_, Ninth
Edition, xxiv. pp. 668-676. 4to. Edinburgh: Adam and Charles Black.

SANDFORD, MRS. HENRY. Thomas Poole and his Friends. 2 vols. 8vo.
London: Macmillan and Co.

1889. CLAYDEN, P. W. Rogers and his Contemporaries. 2 vols. 8vo.
London: Smith, Elder and Co.

HOWITT, MARY. Autobiography. Edited by her daughter Margaret Howitt. 2
vols. 8vo. London: William Isbister.

Letters from the Lake Poets, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, William
Wordsworth, Robert Southey, to Daniel Stuart. Printed for Private
Circulation. Wordsworth, pp. 329-386. 8vo. London: West, Newman and Co.

PATER, WALTER. Appreciations. With an Essay on Style. 8vo. London:
Macmillan and Co.

WORDSWORTHIANA. A Selection from Papers read to the Wordsworth Society.
Edited by William Knight. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

1890. BOLAND, R. Yarrow, its Poets and Poetry, pp. 77-9. Dalbeattie.

BROOKE, STOPFORD A. Dove Cottage, Wordsworth’s Home from 1800-1808.
December 21, 1799, to May 1808. 12mo. London: Macmillan and Co.

DAVEY, SIR HORACE. Wordsworth. An Address read to the Stockton Literary
and Philosophical Society. 8vo. Stockton-on-Tees. 1890.

DAWSON, W. J. Makers of Modern English. Ch. x. William Wordsworth; ch.
xi. The Connection between Wordsworth’s Life and Poetry; ch. xii. Some
Characteristics of Wordsworth’s Poetry; ch. xiii. Wordsworth’s View of
Nature and Man; ch. xiv. Wordsworth’s Patriotic and Political Poems;
ch. xv. Wordsworth’s Personal Characteristics; ch. xvi. Concluding

MALLESON, F. A. Holiday Studies of Wordsworth, by Rivers, Woods, and
Alps. The Wharfe, the Duddon, and the Stelvio Pass. 4to. Cassell and Co.

M’WILLIAMS, R. Handbook of English Literature, pp. 456-466. London:
Longmans, Green and Co.

TUTIN, J. R. Birthday Texts. W. P. Nimmo.

1891. DE QUINCEY, THOMAS. De Quincey Memorials. Being Letters and
Records here first published.… Edited, with Introduction, Notes,
and Narrative, by Alexander H. Japp. 2 vols. 8vo. London: William

GOSSE, E. Gossip in a Library. _Peter Bell_ and his Tormentors, pp.
253-267. 8vo. London: W. Heinemann. Third Edition, 1893.

GRAHAM, P. A. Nature in Books: some Studies in Biography. 8vo. London:
Methuen and Co.

MORLEY, JOHN. Studies in Literature. Wordsworth, pp. 1-53. 8vo. London:
Macmillan and Co.

SCHERER, EDMOND. Essays on English Literature, translated by George
Saintsbury, with a Critical Introduction. 8vo. London: Sampson Low,
Marston and Co.

TUTIN, J. R. The Wordsworth Dictionary of Persons and Places, with
the Familiar Quotations from his Works (including full Index) and a
chronologically-arranged List of his best Poems. 8vo. Hull: J. R. Tutin.

WORDSWORTH, ELIZABETH. William Wordsworth. 8vo. London: Percival and Co.

1892. CAIRD, EDWARD. Essays on Literature and Philosophy. Wordsworth,
vol. i. pp. 147-189. 8vo. Glasgow: James Maclehose and Sons.

DAWSON, W. J. Quest and Vision: essays in Life and Literature.
Wordsworth and his Message, pp. 41-72. 8vo. London: Hodder and

TUTIN, J. R. An Index to the Animal and Vegetable Kingdoms of
Wordsworth. Hull.

TUTIN, J. R. Wordsworth in Yorkshire. First published in _Yorkshire
Notes and Queries_. Part xix.

WINTRINGHAM, W. H. The Birds of Wordsworth: Poetically, Mythologically,
and Comparatively examined. 8vo. London: Hutchinson and Co.

1894. CAMPBELL, J. DYKES. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. A Narrative of the
Events of his Life. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

MINTO, W. The Literature of the Georgian Era. Edited, with a
Biographical Introduction, by William Knight, LL.D., pp. 140-177. 8vo.
Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons.

RAWNSLEY, H. D. Literary Associations of the English Lakes. 2 vols.
8vo. Glasgow: James Maclehose and Sons.

1895. COLERIDGE, S. T. Letters. Edited by Ernest Hartley Coleridge. 2
vols. 8vo. London: William Heinemann.

In Lakeland, a Wordsworthic Pilgrimage, Easter 1895.

1896. SAINTSBURY, GEORGE. A History of Nineteenth Century Literature
(1780-1895). Wordsworth, pp. 49-56. 8vo. London: Macmillan and Co.

A REMINISCENCE OF WORDSWORTH DAY. Cockermouth, April 7, 1896. Edited by
the Rev. H. D. Rawnsley, Hon. Canon of Carlisle. Cockermouth: A. Lang.

[476] There are numerous notes and letters on Wordsworth in such
Journals as _The Athenæum_, _The Academy_, _Notes and Queries_, the
examination of which will repay perusal. In _Notes and Queries_ there
are at least twenty-four valuable ones which cannot be recorded

[477] A criticism of the “dancing daffodils.”--ED.



In the following section when the name of an author is placed within
brackets, it is to be understood that the name was not given on the
publication of the Review, but that it is otherwise known.--ED.

1793. “Descriptive Sketches in Verse.” _The Monthly Review_, xii. 216.

“An Evening Walk.” _The Monthly Review_, xii. 218.

1799. “Lyrical Ballads, with a few other Poems.” _The Monthly Review_,
xxix. 202; _The British Critic_, xiv. 364.

1801. “Lyrical Ballads, with other Poems.” In 2 vols. Second Edition.
_The British Critic_, xvii. 125.

1802. “Lyrical Ballads, with other Poems.” Vol. ii. _The Monthly
Review_, xxxviii. 209.

1807. “Poems.” In 2 vols. _The Edinburgh Review_, xi. 214. By Francis
Jeffrey. _Monthly Literary Recreations_, 65. (By Lord Byron.)

1808. “Poems.” In 2 vols. _The Eclectic Review_, vii. 35.

1809. “Poems.” In 2 vols. _The British Critic_, xxxiii. 298.

1810. “Concerning the relations of Great Britain, Spain, and Portugal,
to each other, and to the Common Enemy, at this Crisis, etc.” _The
British Critic_, xxxiv. 305.

1814. “The Excursion; being a portion of The Recluse, a Poem.” _The
Edinburgh Review_, xxiv. 1. (By Francis Jeffrey); _The Quarterly
Review_, xii. 100. (By Charles Lamb.)

1815. “Poems; including Lyrical Ballads, and the miscellaneous
pieces of the Author. With additional Poems, a new Preface, and
a supplementary Essay.” _The Monthly Review_, lxxviii. 225; _The
Quarterly Review_, xiv. 201. (By W. Gifford.)

“The Excursion; being a portion of The Recluse: a Poem.” _The Eclectic
Review_, xxi. 13; _The Monthly Review_, lxxvi. 123; _The British
Critic_, iii. 449.

“The Excursion: being a portion of The Recluse: a Poem.” _The British
Review_, vi. 49.

“The White Doe of Rylstone.” _The Quarterly Review_, xiv. 201. (By W.
Gifford.) _The Edinburgh Review_, xxv. 355. (By Francis Jeffrey.) _The
Monthly Review_, lxxviii. 235.

1816. “The White Doe of Rylstone.” _The Eclectic Review_, xxiii. 33.

“Thanksgiving Ode, with other short Pieces.” _The Eclectic Review_,
xxiv. 1.

“The White Doe of Rylstone.” _The British Review_, vii. 370.

1817. “Thanksgiving Ode, with other short Pieces.” _The Monthly
Review_, lxxxii. 98.

“Observations on Mr. Wordsworth’s Letter relative to a new Edition of
Burns’s Works.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, i. 261.

“Vindication of Mr. Wordsworth’s Letter to Mr. Gray on a new Edition of
Burns.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, ii. 65.

“Letter occasioned by N.’s Vindication of Mr. Wordsworth in last
Number.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, ii. 201.

1818. “Essays on the Lake School of Poetry. I. Wordsworth’s White Doe
of Rylstone.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, iii. 369.

1819. “Peter Bell: a Tale in Verse.” _The Edinburgh Monthly Review_,
ii. 654; _Blackwood’s Magazine_, v. 130; _The Eclectic Review_, xxx.
62; _The Monthly Review_, lxxxix. 419; _The Literary Gazette_, 273.

“The Waggoner: a Poem, to which are added Sonnets.” _The Monthly
Review_, xc. 36; _The Edinburgh Monthly Review_, ii. 654; _Blackwood’s
Magazine_, v. 332; _The Eclectic Review_, xxx. 62.

“Benjamin the Waggoner, a ryghte merrie and conceitede Tale in Verse.”
_The Monthly Review_, xc. 41.

“Peter Bell: a Lyrical Ballad.” _The Monthly Review_, lxxxix. 422; _The
Eclectic Review_, xxix. 473.

“Memoir of William Wordsworth, Esq.” (with a portrait). _The New
Monthly Magazine_, i. 48.

1820. “Lake School of Poetry--Mr. Wordsworth.” _The New Monthly
Magazine_, xiv. 361.

“Wordsworth.” _The London Magazine_, i. 275, 435.

“Wordsworth’s River Duddon, and other Poems.” _The Gentleman’s
Magazine_, xc. 344; _The London Magazine_, i. 618; _The London Review
and Literary Journal_, 523; _Blackwood’s Magazine_, vii. 206; _The
Eclectic Review_, xxxii. 170; _The Monthly Review_, xciii. 132.

“The River Duddon, and other Poems.” _The British Review_, xvi. 37.

“Essay on Poetry, with Observations on the Living Poets.” _The London
Magazine_, ii. 557.

“The Dead Asses: A Lyrical Ballad.” _The Monthly Review_, xci. 322.

“Description of the Scenery of the Lakes.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, xii.

1822. “Memorials of a Tour on the Continent.” _The British Critic_,
xviii. 522; _The Edinburgh Review_, xxxvii. 449. (By F. Jeffrey.)
_Blackwood’s Magazine_, xii. 175; _The British Review_, xx. 459; _The
Literary Gazette_, 192, 210; _The Museum_, i. 339.

“Ecclesiastical Sketches.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, xii. 175; _The
British Critic_, xviii. 522; _The Literary Gazette_, 123.

1829. “An Essay on the Theory and the Writings of Wordsworth.”
_Blackwood’s Magazine_, xxvi. 453, 593, 774, 894.

1831. “Literary Characters--No. III. Mr. Wordsworth.” _Fraser’s
Magazine_, iii. 557. By Pierce Pungent.

“Selections from the Poems of W. Wordsworth, chiefly for the use of
Schools and Young Persons.” _The New Monthly Magazine_, xxxiii. 304;
_The Monthly Review_, ii. 602.

1832. “Gallery of Literary Characters--No. XXIX. William Wordsworth.”
_Frasers Magazine_, vi. 313.

“Poetical Works.” New Edition. _Fraser’s Magazine_, vi. 607.

1833. “What is Poetry? The two kinds of Poetry.” _The Monthly
Repository_, New Series, vii. 60, 714. By Antiquus (John Stuart Mill).

1834. “The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth.” A New Edition. _The
Quarterly Review_, lii. 317. (By Henry Taylor.)

“Selections from the Poems of William Wordsworth.” _The Quarterly
Review_, lii. 317. (By Henry Taylor.)

1835. “Yarrow Revisited, and other Poems.” _The New Monthly Magazine_,
xliv. 12; _Blackwood’s Magazine_, xxxvii. 699; _Fraser’s Magazine_,
xi. 689; _The Quarterly Review_, liv. 181; _The Dublin University
Magazine_, v. 680; _The Monthly Literary Gazette_, 257; _The Athenæum_,
293; _The Monthly Review_, cxxxvii. 605; _The Monthly Repository_, New
Series, ix. 430.

1838. “Letter from Tomkins--Bagman _versus_ Pedlar.” _Blackwood’s
Magazine_, xliv. 509.

“Our Pocket Companions.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, xliv. 584.

“The Sonnets of William Wordsworth.” _The Literary Gazette_, 540.

1839. “Lake Reminiscences, from 1807 to 1830--Nos. I.-III. William
Wordsworth; No. IV. William Wordsworth and Robert Southey.” _Taits
Edinburgh Magazine_, vi. I, 90, 246, 453. (By Thomas de Quincey.)

1841. “Wordsworth.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, xlix. 359.

“The Sonnets of William Wordsworth.” _The Quarterly Review_, lxix. 1.
(By Henry Taylor.)

1842. “Poems, chiefly of Early and Late Years; including The
Borderers.” _The Monthly Review_, ii. 270; _The Eclectic Review_,
lxxvi. 568; _The Christian Remembrancer_, iii. 655; _The Athenæum_, 757.

Criticism in a Review of “The Book of the Poets” in _The Athenæum_. (By
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.)

“Poems of the Fancy,” “Poems of the Imagination.” _The Gentleman’s
Magazine_, xvii. 3.

“Imaginary Conversation. Southey and Porson.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_,
lii. 687. (By Walter Savage Landor.)

1844. “Oswald Herbst’s Letters from England--No. II. Wordsworth and his
Poetry.” _Tait’s Edinburgh Magazine_, xi. 641.

1845. “On Wordsworth’s Poetry.” _Tait’s Edinburgh Magazine_, xii. 545.
(By Thomas de Quincey.)

“Poems, chiefly of Early and Late Years; including The Borderers.” _The
Gentleman’s Magazine_, xxiv. 555.

“William Wordsworth.” _Hogg’s Weekly Instructor_, ii. 243.

1850. “William Wordsworth.” _Chambers’s Papers for the People_, v. I.

“William Wordsworth.” _The Gentleman’s Magazine_, New Series, xxxiii.
668; _The Athenæum_, 447; _Sharpe’s London Magazine_, xi. 349.

“Poetical Works.” _The Eclectic Review_, xcii. 56; _The North British
Review_, xiii. 473. (By David Masson.)

“The Prelude, or Growth of a Poet’s Mind.” _The Eclectic Review_,
xcii. 550; _The Gentleman’s Magazine_, xxxiv. 459; _Fraser’s Magazine_,
xlii. 119; _The Westminster Review_, liv. 271; _The British Quarterly
Review_, xii. 549; _Tait’s Edinburgh Magazine_, xvii. 521; _The Dublin
University Magazine_, xxxvi. 329; _The Literary Gazette_, 513; _The
Athenæum_, 805; _Sharpe’s London Journal_, xii. 185; _The London
Examiner_, 478.

“William Wordsworth.” _Household Words_, i. 210.

“Wordsworth and his Poetry.” _Chambers’s Journal_, xiii. 363. By C. R.

“Poetical Works.” _The Christian Observer_, i. 307.

“Religious Character of Wordsworth’s Poetry.” _The Christian Observer_,
i. 381.

“Death of Wordsworth.” _The London Examiner_, 259, 265.

“The Poetry of Wordsworth.” _The Wesleyan Methodist Magazine_, 27.

1851. “Memoirs of William Wordsworth.” _Fraser’s Magazine_, xliv.
101, 186; _The Dublin University Magazine_, xxxviii. 77; _The Dublin
Review_, xxxi. 313; _The Gentleman’s Magazine_, New Series, xxxvi. 107;
_The Athenæum_, 445.

“Poetical Works.” _The Dublin Review_, xxxi. 313.

“The Prelude, or Growth of a Poet’s Mind.” _The Prospective Review_,
vii. 94.

1852. “Memoirs of William Wordsworth.” By Christopher Wordsworth. _The
Quarterly Review_, xcii. 182.

“Memoirs of William Wordsworth, compiled from Authentic Sources.” By
January Searle. _The Quarterly Review_, xcii. 182.

“Lives of the Illustrious. William Wordsworth.” _The Biographical
Magazine_, I.

1853. “William Wordsworth.” _Sharpe’s London Journal_, xvii. 148.

“The Genius of Wordsworth harmonised with the Wisdom and Integrity of
his Reviewers.” By J. C. Wright. _The Athenæum_, 824.

1855. “William Wordsworth.” _The Leisure Hour_, iv. 439.

1856. “Poems of William Wordsworth, D.C.L.” _The Dublin Review_, xl.

“William Wordsworth.” _Sharpe’s London Journal_, xi. 349.

1857. “William Wordsworth. A Biography.” By Edwin Paxton Hood. _The
National Review_, iv. 1.

“The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth.” A New Edition. _The
Athenæum_, 109.

“The Earlier Poems of William Wordsworth.” Edited by William Johnston.
_The Athenæum_, 109.

“Wordsworth’s Sister.” By E. P. Hood. _The Leisure Hour_.

1859. “Passages from Wordsworth’s Excursion.” Illustrated with Etchings
on Steel. By Agnes Fraser. _The Athenæum_, i, 361.

“William Wordsworth. A Biography.” By Edwin Paxton Hood. _The Christian
Observer_, lix. 156.

“A Talk about Rydal Mount.” _Once a Week_, i. 107. (By Thomas

1860. “Collected Works of William Wordsworth.” A New and Revised
Edition. _The British Quarterly Review_, xxxi. 79.

“The Prelude, or Growth of a Poet’s Mind.” _The British Quarterly
Review_, xxxi. 79.

“Richard Baxter paraphrased by Wordsworth.” Varieties in _The Leisure

1863. “The Poems of Hood and of Wordsworth.” _The Christian Observer_,
lxiii. 677.

“William Wordsworth.” _The Leisure Hour_, xii. 628.

1864. “Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning; or, Pure, Ornate, and
Grotesque Art in English Poetry.” _The National Review_, xix. 27. W. B.
(Walter Bagehot.)

“Wordsworth: the Man and the Poet.” _The North British Review_, xli. 1.
(By J. C. Shairp.)

1865. “Two Poets of England. Wordsworth and Landor.” _Temple Bar_, xvi.

“Wordsworth at Rydal Mount in 1849.” In _The Leisure Hour_.

1866. “Memories of the Authors of the Age.” William Wordsworth. _The
Art Journal_, xviii. 245, 273. S. C. Hall and Mrs. S. C. Hall.

1868. “Characteristic Letters”; communicated by the author of Men I
have Known--W. Wordsworth.

1870. “Wordsworth at Work.” _Chambers’s Journal_, xlvii. 247.

“Personal Recollections of the Lake Poets.” In _The Leisure Hour_, 651.
The Rev. Edward Whately.

“Wordsworth’s Study,” in _The Leisure Hour_.

1871. “A Century of Great Poets, from 1750 downwards--No. III. William
Wordsworth.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_, cx. 299.

1872. “Wordsworth impartially weighed.” _Temple Bar_, xxxiv. 310.

1873. “Wordsworth.” _Macmillan’s Magazine_, xxviii. 289. Sir John Duke

“Wordsworth’s Three Yarrows.” _Good Words_, xiv. 649. J. C. Shairp.

1874. “On Wordsworth.” _The Fortnightly Review_, xxi. 455. Walter H.

“William and Dorothy Wordsworth.” _Chambers’s Journal_, li. 513.
William Chambers.

“White Doe of Rylstone.” _Good Words_, xv. 269. J. C. Shairp.

“The Cycle of English Song.” _Temple Bar_, xl. 478.

1875. “The Prose Works of William Wordsworth.” Edited by the Rev. A.
B. Grosart. _The Fortnightly Review_, xxiv. 449. Edward Dowden. _The
Dublin University Magazine_, lxxxvi. 756.

1876. “Hours in a Library.” Wordsworth’s Ethics. _The Cornhill
Magazine_, xxxiv. 206. Leslie Stephen.

“The Prose Works of William Wordsworth.” Wordsworth and Gray. _The
Quarterly Review_, cxli. 104.

“The Prose Works of William Wordsworth.” Edited by the Rev. A. B.
Grosart. _The London Quarterly Review_, xlvii. 102.

1877. “The Wordsworths at Brinsop Court.” _Temple Bar_, xlix. 110.

1878. “The Text of Wordsworth’s Poems.” _The Contemporary Review_,
xxxiii. 734. Edward Dowden.

“Wordsworth.” _Transactions of the Cumberland Association for the
Advancement of Literature and Science_, Part III. William Knight.

1879. “Wordsworth.” _Macmillan’s Magazine_, xl. 193. Matthew Arnold.

“Matthew Arnold’s Selections from Wordsworth.” _The Fortnightly
Review_, xxxii. 686. J. A. Symonds.

1880. “Milton and Wordsworth.” _Temple Bar_, lx. 106.

“Wordsworth.” _Frasers Magazine_, ci. 205. Edward Caird.

“Wordsworth’s Poems.” Selected and edited by Matthew Arnold. _The
Modern Review_, i, 235. William Knight.

“The Genius and Passion of Wordsworth.” _The Month_, xxxviii. 465;
xxxix. 1. Aubrey De Vere.

1881. “Carlyle’s Reminiscences.” Carlyle’s Impressions of Wordsworth.
_The Nineteenth Century_, lx. 1010. Henry Taylor.

“Wordsworth.” _The Churchman_, March.

1882. “Wordsworth and Byron.” _The Quarterly Review_, cliv. 53. Matthew

“My Rare Book.” _The Gentleman’s Magazine_, New Series, xxviii. 531.
Frederick Wedmore.

“Wordsworth’s Two Styles.” _The Modern Review_, iii. 525. R. H. Hutton.

“A French Critic on Wordsworth--M. Schérer.” _The Saturday Review_,
liv. 565.

“Poetical Works.” Edited by William Knight. _The Academy_, xxii. III.
Edward Dowden. _The Spectator_, lv. 1141; _The Modern Review_, iii,

“Transactions of the Wordsworth Society--No. I. Bibliography of the
Poems; No. II. On the Platonism of Wordsworth.” J. H. Shorthouse. _The
Spectator_, lv. 238.

“The Weak Side of Wordsworth.” _The Spectator_, lv. 687.

1883. “Wordsworth and the Duddon.” _Good Words_, xxiv. 573. F. A.

“Address to the Wordsworth Society.” _Macmillan’s Magazine_, xlviii.
154. Matthew Arnold.

“Poetical Works.” Edited by William Knight. _The Spectator_, lvi. 614.

“In Wordsworth’s Country.” _The Yorkshire Illustrated Monthly_, 32. N.

“Poets’ Pictures.” _Temple Bar_, lxxx. 232.

“Old Age in Bath, to which are added a few unpublished remains of
Wordsworth.” Henry Julian Hunter.

1884. “Wordsworth and Byron.” _The Nineteenth Century_, xv. 583, 764.
A. C. Swinburne.

“The Wisdom and Truth of Wordsworth’s Poetry.” _The Catholic World_.
Aubrey de Vere.

“Wordsworth and ‘Natural Religion.’” _Good Words_, xxv. 307. J. C.

“Wordsworth’s Relations to Science.” _Macmillan’s Magazine_, l. 202. R.
Spence Watson.

“Sonnets.” Edited by the Archbishop of Dublin. _The Academy_, xxv. 108.
Samuel Waddington.

“The Literature of the English Lake District.” _The Manchester
Quarterly_, No. xii. Albert Nicholson.

“A Stroll up the Brathay.” _Good Words_, xxv. 392. Herbert Rix.

“The Liberal Movement in English Literature--III. Wordsworth’s Theory
of Poetry.” _The National Review_, iv. 512. William John Courthope.

1885. “Wordsworth’s Influence in Scotland.” _The Spectator_, lviii.

“Dorothy Wordsworth.” _The Christian World Magazine_, 314, 360, 464,

“Archbishop Sandys’ Endowed School, Hawkshead, near Ambleside.
Tercentenary Commemoration.”

1886. “Wordsworth.” _Temple Bar_, lxxvii. 336. Charles F. Johnson.

“Poetical Works.” Edited by William Knight. _The Spectator_, lix. 355.

1887. “Memorials of Coleorton.” Edited by William Knight. _The
Spectator_, lx. 1656.

“Wordsworth, the Poet of Nature.” _The Sunday Magazine_, xvi. 166.
Henry C. Ewart.

“The Mystical Side of Wordsworth.” _The National Review_, ix. 833. John

1888. “Mr. Morley on Wordsworth.” _The Spectator_, lxi. 1807.

“The Recluse.” _The Spectator_, lxi. 1852.

“Selections from Wordsworth.” By William Knight, and other Members of
the Wordsworth Society. _The Spectator_, lxi. 1852.

1889. “Selections from Wordsworth.” By William Knight, and other
Members of the Wordsworth Society. _The Athenæum_, i. 109.

“A Modern Poetic Seer.” _The Christian World._

“The Recluse.” _The Edinburgh Review_, clxix. 415. _The Academy_, xxxv.
17. Edward Dowden. _The Saturday Review_, lxvii. 43; _The Athenæum_, i.

“Complete Poetical Works.” With an Introduction by John Morley. _The
Edinburgh Review_, clxix. 415. _The Academy_, xxxv. 17. Edward Dowden.
_The Athenæum_, i. 109.

“Wordsworthiana.” Edited by William Knight. _The Edinburgh Review_,
clxix. 415; _The Academy_, xxxv. 229. Edward Dowden. _The Spectator_,
lxii. 369.

“Wordsworth’s Great Failure.” _The Nineteenth Century_, xxvi. 435.
William Minto.

“The Life of William Wordsworth.” By William Knight. _The Saturday
Review_, lxvii. 732; _The Spectator_, lxiii. 143; _The Athenæum_, i.

“Wordsworth and the Quantock Hills.” _The National Review_, xiv. 67.
William Greswell.

1890. “Lyrical Ballads.” Edited by Edward Dowden. _The Spectator_,
lxiv. 479.

“The Story of a Sonnet.” _The Athenæum_, i. 641. James Bromley.

“Some Early Poems of Wordsworth.” _The Athenæum_, ii. 320. J. D. C.
(James Dykes Campbell).

“The Lyrical Ballads of 1800.” _The Athenæum_, ii. 699. J. D. C.

“Wordsworth’s Verses in his Guide to the Lake Country.” _The Athenæum._
J. D. C.

1891. “Wordsworth’s ‘Immortal’ Ode.” _The Parent’s Review_, i. 864,
944; ii. 70.

“The Wordsworth Dictionary of Persons and Places,” with the Familiar
Quotations from his Works. (By J. R. Tutin.) _The Athenæum_, ii. 756,

“The College Days of William Wordsworth.” _The Eagle_, xvi., No. 94. G.
C. M. Smith.

“William Wordsworth.” By Elizabeth Wordsworth. _The Athenæum_, ii. 516.

1892. “The Yarrow of Wordsworth and Scott.” _Blackwood’s Magazine_,
cli. 638. John Veitch.

“The last Decade of the last Century.” _The Contemporary Review_, lxii.
422. J.W. Hales.

“The Influence of Burns on Wordsworth.” _The Manchester Quarterly_, xi.
285. George Milner.

“Wordsworth on Old Age.” _Literary Opinion_, vii. 186, Sir Edward

“The Birds of Wordsworth, practically, mythologically, and
comparatively examined.” By William H. Wintringham. _The Athenæum_, i.
594, 634, 666, 697.

“Dove Cottage,” in _The Athenæum_, i. 727.

“The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth.” Edited by Edward Dowden.
_The Athenæum._ No. 3404.

1893. “Some Unpublished Letters of William Wordsworth.” _The Cornhill
Magazine_, New Series, xx. 257.

“Reminiscences of Scott, Campbell, Jeffrey, and Wordsworth.” _The
Bookman_, iv. 47.

“Our Poet’s Corner.” _The Girls’ Own Paper_, xiv. 772.

“Dove Cottage, Grasmere--Wordsworth’s Home.” _The Girls’ Own Paper_,
xiv. 772. Milward Wood.

“Down the Duddon with Wordsworth.” _The Leisure Hour_, xlii. 532.
Herbert Rix.

“Wordsworth’s ‘Grace Darling.’” _The Athenæum_, No. 3440. Edward Dowden.

“Note by Wordsworth.” _The Athenæum_, No. 3443. E. H. C. (Ernest H.

“Wordsworth and the _Morning Post_.” _The Athenæum_, No. 3445. E. H. C.

1894. “Wordsworth’s ‘Castle of Indolence’ Stanzas.” _The Fortnightly
Review_, lxii. 685. T. Hutchinson.

“A Century of Wordsworth.” _The Sunday at Home_, 641, 646. By E. S.

1895. “The Charm of Wordsworth.” _Great Thoughts_, iv. 399.

“Wordsworth and Carlyle: a Literary Parallel.” _Temple Bar_, cv. 261.

“Dorothy Wordsworth, 1771-1855.” _Great Thoughts_, v. 56. Alexander

1896. “Wordsworth’s Quantock Poems.” _Temple Bar_, April 1896. William



etc. J. Johnston.

1839. PETER BELL THE THIRD. By Miching Mallecho, Esq. (Percy B.

1876. LITERARY REMAINS. By Catherine Maria Fanshawe. B. M. Pickering.

1888. THE POETS AT TEA. _The Cambridge Fortnightly_ (Feb. 7).

1819. THE DEAD ASSES. A Lyrical Ballad.

1819. PETER BELL. a Lyrical Ballad. By John Hamilton Reynolds. London:
Taylor and Hessey.

(By James Hogg.)

The Stranger; being a further portion of “The Recluse,” a poem.

The Flying Taylor; further extract from “The Recluse,” a poem.

James Rigg; still further extract from “The Recluse,” a poem. 12mo.
London: Longmans. Second Edition. 1817.

1888. HAMILTON, WALTER. Parodies of the Works of English and American
Authors, collected and annotated by Walter Hamilton. _William
Wordsworth_, pp. 88-106. 8vo. London: Reeves and Turner.



1. COLERIDGE, S. T. _To William Wordsworth, composed on the night
after his recitation of a poem on the growth of an individual mind._
Published in “Sibylline Leaves.”

2. COLERIDGE, HARTLEY. _To William Wordsworth, on his seventy-fifth

3. WILSON, JOHN. In “The Angler’s Tent,” p. 257 of the edition of 1858.

4. KEATS, JOHN. In his Sonnets [the 2nd addressed to Haydon].

5. SHELLEY, PERCY B. _To Wordsworth._ Another reference occurs in

6. MOIR, D. M. _To Wordsworth._ In _Blackwood’s Magazine_, viii. 542;
afterwards included amongst his “Poems,” vol. ii. p. 28. 1852.

7, 8. BROWNING, MRS. _On a Portrait of Wordsworth by B. R. Haydon._
(Sonnets.) 1866. Vol. ii. p. 264. Also in _Lady Geraldine’s Courtship_,
vol. ii. p. 109. 1866.

9. ELLIOTT, EBENEZER. In _The Village Patriarch_. Book iv. 1840.

10. TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD. In the Dedication of his _Poems_ “To the
Queen.” March 1851.

11, 12. ALFORD, HENRY. In _The School of the Heart_, pp. 66, 67; and
_Recollections of Wordsworth’s_ “_Ruth_,” p. 163. 1868.

13. LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL. In _A Fable for Critics_, p. 133. 1873.

14, 15. BYRON, LORD. In _English Bards and Scotch Reviewers_. Also in
_Don Juan_.

16. HUNT, LEIGH. In _The Feast of the Poets_. This first appeared in
_The Reflector_, which survived from 1810 to 1812.

17. HEMANS, MRS. _To Wordsworth_, in her “Miscellaneous Poems.”

18. Scenes and Hymns of Life. Dedicated to Wordsworth. p. 568. N. D.

19. HALLAM, A. H. _Meditative Fragments._ No. vi. 1863.

20, 21, 22. ARNOLD, MATTHEW. _Memorial Verses._ April 1850. Also in
_Youth and Nature_, and in _Obermann Once More_. p. 203. 1869.

23, 24, 25. DE VERE, SIR AUBREY. _In Rydal with Wordsworth_ (Sonnets).
p. 208. 1842. _Wordsworth._ Composed at Rydal, 1st Sept. 1860. p. 392.
_Wordsworth, on Visiting the Duddon_, p. 393.

26. TOLLEMACHE, The Hon. BEATRIX L. _Wordsworth_, in “Safe Studies,” p.
409. 1884.

27. TOLLEMACHE, The Hon. BEATRIX L. _To Wordsworth_, in “Engleberg, and
other Verses.” 1890.

28. BELL, GEORGE. _Rydal Mount_, in “Descriptive and other
Miscellaneous Pieces in Verse.” Penrith, 1835.

29. HOUGHTON, LORD. Sonnet beginning “The hour may come,” etc. Poetical
Works, vol. i. p. 267. 1876.

30. WORSLEY, P. S. Stanzas to Wordsworth, in _Blackwood’s Magazine_,
xcii. pp. 92-93.

31. AUSTIN, ALFRED. _Wordsworth at Dove Cottage._ 1890.

32, 33. SCOTT, W. B. Poems (three Sonnets), pp. 180-182. 1875. Also in
“A Poet’s Harvest Home,” 1893. _Wordsworth_, p. 123.

34, 35, 36. RAWNSLEY, H. D. In “Sonnets at the English Lakes.” IX.
_Wordsworth’s Seat, Rydal_; LI. _A Tree planted by William Wordsworth
at Wray Castle_; LXII. _Wordsworth’s Tomb._

37. PAYNE, JAMES. _Wordsworth’s Grave_, in “Lakes in Sunshine.” 1870.

38. LANDOR, L. E. _On Wordsworth’s Cottage, near Grasmere Lake_, in her
“Poetical Works,” pp. 551-4. 1873.

39. ALLINGHAM, WILLIAM. _On reading of the Funeral of the Poet
Wordsworth_, p. 258 of “Poems.” 1850.

40. PALGRAVE, FRANCIS TURNER. _William Wordsworth_, in his “Lyrical
Poems.” 1871.

41. ANDERSON, G. F. R. _Wordsworth_, in “The White Book of the Muses,”
p. 67. 1895.

42. DAWSON, JAMES, jun. _Wordsworth and Hartley Coleridge: in Grasmere
Churchyard, Westmoreland._ In _Macmillan’s Magazine_, xiii. 26.

43. WATSON, WILLIAM. _Wordsworth’s Grave._ Originally published in
the _National Review_, x. 40; afterwards included in the volume,
“Wordsworth’s Grave, and other Poems.” 1890.

44. MATSURA (a Japanese poet). _Moonlight on Windermere_, translated by
H. D. Rawnsley in _Murray’s Magazine_, Oct. 1887.


which have been printed and published in the United States of America,
from 1801 to 1895, arranged in Chronological Order: also a BIBLIOGRAPHY
Works in Books, Reviews, and Periodicals; with Notes, by Mrs. HENRY A.
ST. JOHN, Ithaca, New York.


My ideal in attempting to prepare a _Bibliography of Wordsworth in
America_ was high. I hoped to see each edition, or at least to identify
the editions hinted at in the various catalogues. I determined to
read every article, in criticism, or review; and to know if the many
references, given by Poole and other authorities, were correct. As
is usually the case, the reality has fallen far short of the ideal.
But, while the results are not what were desired, there have been many
fortunate discoveries.

Two things were learned to begin with. First, that astonishingly little
care had been taken to preserve the history of the early American
Editions, or to preserve, even, the earlier American Periodicals.
Most of our larger libraries are amazingly deficient in these works.
Second, it was found that existing Catalogues or Lists are not only
far from complete, but full of gross blunders. Roorbach (the Addenda,
Supplements, etc.) was found to be a mere rehash of the old trade sales
Catalogues, swarming with blunders. In the matter of dates, imprints,
the particular editions, the size of books, Roorbach is utterly
untrustworthy. Allibone (so far as Wordsworth is concerned) is also
confusing and incomplete. I did not find much in the various Public or
College Library Catalogues.

I wrote to the librarians of some of the older libraries, after I had
made out a preliminary list, to ascertain if they could add thereto any
editions, from their cards or manuscript catalogues. From these sources
I was enabled several times to solve seemingly insolvable problems.

I had assistance from, and in some instances visited, the following
libraries: Cornell University, Boston Public Library, Boston Athenæum,
Harvard College, Philadelphia Public Library, the Library College of
Philadelphia, Mercantile Library College, Philadelphia; the Public
Library, St. Louis; that of Lennox and Astor, the University of
Virginia, the State Library, Richmond, Va., and one or two other
Southern libraries. I have written more than one hundred letters
to publishers, editors, authors, the descendants of early American
Wordsworthians, Professors of Literature, and professed Wordsworthians
in Seminaries and Colleges. I have examined, or employed others to
examine, the following works for editions of Wordsworth: the _New York
Literary World_, _Norton’s Literary Gazette_, _American Publishers’
Circular_, _Publishers’ Weekly_, _Catalogues of Congress Library_, _The
Port Folio_, _American Quarterly Review_, _Knickerbocker Magazine_,
_New York Quarterly Review_, _American Review_, _North American
Review_. And this is but half of my story.

Poole’s “Index,” of course, was a great assistance. But I did not rely
altogether on him, after I had discovered several mistakes in titles
and numbering--mistakes which were confusing in the extreme. I have
consulted all other Indexes and Reference Lists that I could procure,
and have carefully examined the periodicals in which it was possible
that such articles could be found.

My greatest light, however, came from responses to personal appeals,
to those in the North, South, East, and West of the Country, who
enlightened me in particular directions. I needed assistance, not only
to discover the articles, but more particularly to secure the articles
to read, or to procure proper persons to read the few articles that I
could not obtain. When valuable books were sent me, by express, from
distant College Libraries, that I might read for myself, I realised the
bond there is between Wordsworthians.

I cannot begin to speak of the delight that I have had in this work,
delight because of the response I have met with, and in opening
up unknown and rich veins of criticism. I have learned too, that
Wordsworth has many enthusiastic followers in America.

I have included in the Bibliography the accounts of visits paid to
Wordsworth by certain well-known Americans, a half-dozen poems on
Wordsworth, and three or four unpublished Lectures.

I am exceedingly grateful to the many who (to my surprise) have
answered my questions, and have given me of their valuable time. I
am especially indebted to Mr. George P. Philes, of Philadelphia, and
also to Mr. F. Saunders of the Astor Library, New York. Dean Murray of
Princeton rendered me exceedingly gracious service, and but for Mr.
Edwin H. Woodruff of Stanford University, California, I should not have
known how or where to begin my investigations.

In all probability my work is not perfect. I would that it were. I only
know that I have been enabled, by enthusiasm alone, to lay a foundation
for Wordsworth Bibliography in America, that may be an assistance to
future scholars, and will aid the next Wordsworthian who is brave
enough to build enduringly.





I have endeavoured to include in this list every distinctive American
edition of Wordsworth, published during the poet’s lifetime, and
since his death. There are many others, issued with the imprints of
honourable publishers; which, upon investigation, were found to be
English reprints; to say nothing of those editions made from worn-out
plates, and issued by houses of less reputation for honourableness.
I was puzzled to account for so many editions of Matthew Arnold’s
Selections, some of them bearing the imprint of Harper Brothers, some
of Macmillan, and several of Crowell. The Harpers wrote me that these
various publications were possible in view of the fact that there
was no copyright of the work, and that all of them might properly be
called American Editions. I have not placed those bearing the Macmillan
imprint, of course, among purely American editions. Nor have I included
the several cheap ones of Crowell. The one of Crowell, given in the
list, is copyrighted by the Crowell Company.

The fact that the introduction of Wordsworth’s poetry into America is
so easily authenticated, and that the history of it is so concise,
is my apology for deviating from ordinary bibliographical rule in
including among the regular editions certain numbers of America’s first
Literary Journal, and two or three other volumes.

I have confined myself to a simple chronological arrangement of the
Editions, with place of imprint, name of publisher, number, and size
of volumes. This makes the most convenient list for easy reference,
especially as I have tried to mention technical points of difference.



1801. THE PORT FOLIO. (Edited by Joseph Dennie.) Philadelphia. 4to.

The following poems appeared in “The Port Folio,” vol. i., before the
publication of the First American Edition of “Lyrical Ballads”--

    (1) _Simon Lee_, p. 24.[478]
    (2) _The Last of the Flock_, p. 48.
    (3) _The Thorn_, p. 94.
    (4) _The Mad Mother_, p. 232.
    (5) _Anecdote for Fathers_, p. 232.
    (6) _Ellen Irwin_, p. 391.
    (7) _Strange Fits of Passion_, etc., p. 392.
    (8) _The Waterfall and the Eglantine_, p. 408.
    (9) _Lucy Gray_, p. 408.
    (10) _Andrew Jones_, p. 408.


Philadelphia: Johnson and Warner. 12mo.[479]


1802. LYRICAL BALLADS, with Other Poems. In two volumes. By W.

    Quam nihil ad genium, Papiniane, tuum!

From the London second edition. Philadelphia: Printed and sold by James
Humphreys. 2 vols. in one. 12mo.[480]


1823. THE AMERICAN FIRST CLASS BOOK. By John Pierpont. Boston: William
B. Fowle. 1 vol. 12mo.[481]


Cummings, Hilliard and Co. 4 vols. 12mo.[482]


Selections from his “Lyrical Ballads.”[483] Philadelphia: Greenbak’s
Periodical Library. Vol. ii. pp. 181-202.


1835. YARROW REVISITED, and Other Poems. New York: R. Bartlett and S.
Raynor. 16mo. pp. 17-244.

1835. Same Title. Boston: R. Bartlett and S. Raynor. 16mo; also,
Boston: James Munroe and Co. 16mo.

1835. Same Title. Philadelphia. 12mo.


1836. YARROW REVISITED. Second Edition. Boston: William D. Ticknor.


American, from the last London, edition. New Haven: Peck and Newton. In
1 vol. Royal 8vo.[484]


a Description of the Country of the Lakes, etc. Edited by Henry Reed.
With Portrait. Philadelphia: Kay and Brother. Royal 8vo; also, by James
Kay and Brother.[485]

1839. Same Title. Philadelphia: Kay and Brother. Boston: Munroe and Co.
Pittsburg: Kay and Co.

1844. Same Title. Philadelphia: James Kay jun.[486]


1842. WORDSWORTH’S POEMS. In “The New World,” vol. iv. No. 16.
New York: Park Benjamin, Editor. Sat. April 9, _Sonnet Written at
Florence_; April 16, _Address to the Clouds, Suggested by a Picture
of the Bird of Paradise_; _Maternal Grief_ (“New Poems, never before
published”). May 7, _Guilt and Sorrow_ (“From proof sheets received in


Henry Reed.

    Go forth, my little Book; pursue thy way;
    Go forth, and please the gentle and the good.

Philadelphia: John Locken. 32mo.

(Entered according to the Act of Congress in 1841.)

1846. Same Title. Philadelphia: Uriah Hunt and Son. 32mo.

Same Title. New York: Leavitt and Co.[488]

1853. Same Title. New York: Leavitt and Allen. 24mo.

1856. Same Title.[489] New York: Leavitt and Allen.


(In Press.) Philadelphia: Kay and Troutman. 12mo.


1849. POEMS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH: with an Introductory Essay on his
Life and Writings. By H. T. Tuckerman. New York: C. S. Francis and Co.
12mo. pp. 21-356; also, Boston: J. H. Francis.[491]


1849. THE EXCURSION: a Poem. New York: C. S. Francis and Co. 12mo.

1850. THE EXCURSION, etc. New York: C. S. Francis and Co. 12mo.

1852-55. The above was again republished.


1850. THE PRELUDE; or, Growth of a Poet’s Mind. New York: Appleton and
Co. 12mo.

1850. THE PRELUDE, etc. Philadelphia: George S. Appleton and Co. 12mo.


Sampson and Co. 12mo. Reprinted in 1857 and 1859.

1859. Same Title. Boston: Phillips, Sampson and Co. 16mo.


Henry Reed. Royal 8vo. Philadelphia: James Kay jun. and Brother. Also,
Kay and Troutman. Also, Troutman and Hayes. Also, Hayes and Zell. Also,
Porter and Coates.[492]

Henry Reed. 8vo. Philadelphia: Troutman and Hayes.

Henry Reed. Royal 8vo. pp. 727.[493]


Boston: Little, Brown and Co. Also, New York: Evans and Dickenson.
Also, Philadelphia: Lippincott, Grant and Co. 18mo. 7 vols.


1855. POETICAL WORKS OF W. WORDSWORTH. Portrait. Boston: Crosby and
Nichols(?) 12mo.


1855. THE PRELUDE. New York: Appleton and Co. 12mo. Second Edition.


1860. POETICAL WORKS OF WORDSWORTH.[495] 2 vols. New York: 12mo.


1863. SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH, with an Essay by H. T. Tuckerman.
Philadelphia. 32mo.[496]

1863. Same Title. Boston.


1865. POEMS OF NATURE AND SENTIMENT. By William Wordsworth. Elegantly
illustrated. Philadelphia: E. H. Butler and Co.[497]


Crosby and Nichols. 12mo.

Crosby and Ainsworth. New York: Oliver S. Felt. 16mo. pp. 539.[499]


1870. THE EXCURSION: a Poem. A new edition. New York: J. Miller. 16mo.


1871-75. THE HOWE MEMORIAL PRIMER, in raised letters for the Blind.
WORDSWORTH’S POETICAL WORKS, with a Memoir. Boston. 7 vols. 16mo.


1876. WORDSWORTH’S POEMS. Selected and Prepared for Schools. Edited by
H. N. Hudson. Boston: Ginn and Co. 12mo. “Text-book of Prose and Poetry

1882. Same Title. In paper. Hudson’s Pamphlet Selections of Poetry.
(No. VI. Wordsworth.)


1877. FAVORITE POEMS. Vest-pocket Series. Boston: Osgood. Illustrated.

1877. FAVORITE POEMS. Illustrated. Boston, Massachusetts. (Printed at
Cambridge.) 16mo.


1877. THE POETICAL WORKS. New edition. Boston: Hurd and Houghton. 8vo.
3 vols.


3. Boston: Houghton, Osgood and Co. Riverside Press. 8vo; also,

1880. Same Title.[500]


1879. WORDSWORTH’S POEMS. Chosen and Edited by Matthew Arnold. Franklin
Square Library. New York: Harper and Brother. Paper 4to.

1880. Another Edition.

1891. Another Edition.


1881. THE EXCURSION, with a Biographical Sketch. English Classic
Series. New York: Clark and Maynard. 16mo.

1889. Same Title. With Explanatory Notes. New York: Effingham, Maynard
and Co.


1881-82. FAVORITE POEMS. By William Wordsworth. In Modern Classics, No.
VII. Illustrated. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co. 32mo.


1884. ODE, INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY. By William Wordsworth.
Illustrated. Boston: D. Lothrop Company. Small 4to. Copyright by D.


1884. POEMS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Selected and Prepared for use in
Schools. (From Hudson’s _Text-Book of Poetry_.) Section I. Boston:
Ginn, Heath and Co. 12mo.


1888. PRELUDE; or, Growth of a Poet’s Mind. With Notes by A. J. George.
Boston: D. C. Heath and Co. 12mo.


1888. BITS OF BURNISHED GOLD, from William Wordsworth. Compiled by Rose
Porter. New York: A. D. F. Randolph and Co. 12mo.


1889. SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. With Notes by A. J. George. Boston:
D. C. Heath and Co. 12mo.


1889. MELODIES FROM NATURE. (From Wordsworth.) Illustrated. Boston: D.
Lothrop Company. 4to.


1889. SELECT POEMS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.[501] Edited, with Notes, by
W. J. Rolfe. With Engravings. New York: Harper Brothers. Square 16mo.


1889. POEMS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Selected and Prepared for use in
School. Paper. (From Hudson’s _Text-Book of Poetry_.) Section II. 12mo.
Boston: Ginn and Co.


1890. SELECT POEMS FROM WORDSWORTH, with Explanatory Notes. Edited by
James H. Dillard. New York: Effingham, Maynard and Co. 12mo.


WORDSWORTH. Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Co. 16mo. White
and Gold Series.


numerous Illustrations. By A. Parsons. New York: Harper Brothers. 4to.


1891. WORDSWORTH FOR THE YOUNG. Selections. Illustrated. With an
Introduction for parents and teachers by Cynthia Morgan St. John.
Boston: D. Lothrop Company. Small 4to. 153 pp.


George. (Heath’s English Classics.) Boston: D. C. Heath and Co. 12mo.


1892. POEMS OF WORDSWORTH. Chosen and Edited by Matthew Arnold.
Illustrated by Edmund H. Garrett. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell and Co.
(Copyright 1892 by T. Y. Crowell.)

[478] _Simon Lee_ was probably the first poem of Wordsworth’s published
in a Literary Journal in America, and is the beginning of Wordsworth’s
Bibliography in U.S.A. A note in “The Port Folio” (vol. i. p. 24) is as
follows: “The public may remember reading in some of the newspapers the
interesting little ballads, _We are Seven_, and _Goody Blake and Harry
Gill_. They were extracted from the ‘Lyrical Ballads,’ a collection
remarkable for originality, simplicity, and nature.… The following,
_Simon Lee_, is from the same work.”

It is evident from this that two, at least, of Wordsworth’s poems were
copied into American newspapers as early as 1800, and that Joseph
Dennie, the founder, as well as editor, of “The Port Folio”--the first
purely Literary Journal established in this country--was the first
American champion of Wordsworth.


[479] _The Pet Lamb_ appeared in this Book almost immediately after
its publication in England. It was the first poem of Wordsworth’s
published in a book in America. It was also the first instance of the
introduction of a poem of Wordsworth’s into a School Book.


[480] The first American edition, and the first work by Wordsworth,
printed in America. It looks as if the Poet found appreciative readers
in America sooner than in England; the first edition of “Lyrical
Ballads,” which had fallen dead in his own country in 1798, being
published in Philadelphia in 1802. The American edition was delayed in
the press, in order to include certain pieces which first appeared in
the second (English) edition of 1802. See Humphreys’ Preface.

A copy of “Lyrical Ballads,” 1802, is in the possession of Judge Henry
Reed, with exactly the same title-page as the above, except that it

“Printed by James Humphreys for Joseph Groff.”

It is believed that the work was printed at the joint expense of
Humphreys and Groff, each bookseller taking a certain number of copies
upon which was placed his individual imprint. Both book-sellers
advertised the volumes almost simultaneously. I know of another copy
of (1802) “Lyrical Ballads,” of which the first volume contains the
imprint of Humphreys, and the second volume that of Groff. The two
volumes are bound together, and are _identical_ in type, paper, etc.


[481] Amongst the contents there are four long extracts from _The
Excursion_, with titles attributed to W.W. _Goody Blake and Harry Gill_
is amongst the extracts from “Lyrical Ballads,” and there is a long
note to the former poem by Joseph Dennie.


[482] The first collected edition of Wordsworth’s Poems printed in


[483] The sketch is by R. H. Home. The poems are _The Last of the
Flock_, _The Dungeon_, _The Mad Mother_, _Anecdote for Fathers_, _We
are Seven_, _Lines Written in Early Spring_, _The Female Vagrant_,
_Goody Blake and Harry Gill_, _The Waterfall and the Eglantine_, _The
Oak and the Broom_, _Lucy Gray_, _Hart-Leap Well_, _Lucy_, _Nutling_,


[484] Printed and published by Peck and Newton.


[485] First double-column edition of the poems, adopted by Moxon in
1845 edition.


[486] The Boxall portrait was engraved for the above. I could not find
the 1844 imprint, but presume that it is the same as that of 1837 and


[487] In an editorial of April 16 of “The New World” is the following:
“We are enabled by the purchase of the printed sheets considerably in
advance of their publication in England to present the first and only
American Editions of new poems by William Wordsworth.”


[488] This is spoken of in Ellis Yarnall’s Reminiscences as having no
date. When John Locken--the first publisher--failed, the plates passed
into the possession of Messrs. Uriah Hunt and Son. They retired from
business, and Messrs. Leavitt and Co. took the plates. It is possible
that there was an edition earlier than 1843.


[489] The last two named are exactly as in 1843, except that they are
printed on larger paper. Why one is put down 32mo and the other 24mo is
a mystery!


[490] If this edition was published, it seems to have disappeared. It
is advertised in A. V. Blake’s _American Booksellers’ Complete Trade
List_, published at Claremont, N.H., 1847.


[491] Copyright in 1848. It contains about one-fifth of all
Wordsworth’s poems. The Essay, which occupies ten pages, is taken “by
permission” from Tuckerman’s _Thoughts on Poets_.


[492] In connection with this edition, I can vouch for the five firms
of Publishers in Philadelphia, but I cannot explain it.


[493] “This edition contains some pieces omitted--inadvertently it is
believed--from the latest London edition.” Additional poems have been
introduced, and the arrangement changed since the 1839 edition.


[494] This edition contains a remarkable “Sketch of Wordsworth’s
Life,” by James Russell Lowell, which was afterwards embodied, with
additions, in _Among my Books_. Mr. Ellis Yarnall believed that this
edition was an English reprint. I doubt this from the fact that it is
“Entered according to the Act of Congress in 1854,” and was “Printed at
Cambridge by H.O. Houghton.”


[495] This edition is mentioned in some lists, but I am inclined to
doubt if it can be authenticated.


[496] The size is given as 32mo. I have not seen the book.


[497] Edited by Waldron J. Cheney, though not credited to him. C. M.

[498] No date is given to this edition. The firm-name and place of
business according to the Boston Directory would limit the date of
the title page at least to 1863-65. It is in the New Haven Library.
Allibone notes a volume of “Selections,” Boston, 12mo, 1863, which may
be this.


[499] I have placed the two works together, as they are closely
related, if not identical. The edition contains _The Excursion_ and
fifty-seven other poems.


[500] From plates of the 1854 edition, with changes.


[501] This excellent edition--as to selection, size, paper, binding,
and illustrations--is the best handy edition of Wordsworth issued in


[502] Eighty-eight of the sonnets are here illustrated with rare skill
and artistic effect. The illustrations first appeared in wood-cuts in
Harper’s _Monthly Magazine_.




A Bibliography of Wordsworth in America is not complete without some
reference to the many editions of Wordsworth, and of works pertaining
to him, which have--for the most part--appeared simultaneously in
England and America. These works cannot properly be termed American,
but they have been welcomed, and they have also supplied a want, on
this side of the Atlantic. The editions are confined, for the most
part, to the last twenty years. I have endeavoured to select those
which are of most value.



1859. WORDSWORTH’S PASTORAL POEMS. Illustrated. New York: D. Appleton
and Co. 12mo.

1875. Same Title. New York: Putnam. 12mo.


1859. POEMS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Selected and Edited by Robert Aris
Willmott. Illustrated with 100 Designs by Birket Foster and others.
London and New York: George Routledge and Co. 4to.

1870. The above republished.


12mo. Philadelphia: Lippincott and Co.


Edited by J. C. Shairp. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons. (Printed at the
Edinburgh University Press.) 12mo.


1880. WORDSWORTH’S POEMS. Chosen and Edited by Matthew Arnold. Large
Paper Edition. London and New York: Macmillan and Co. 8vo.

1892. Same Title. With Steel Portrait. Printed on India paper. London
and New York: Macmillan and Co. 8vo.


1881. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH: a Biography with Selections from Prose and
Poetry. By A. J. Symington. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 2 vols. 16mo.


York: Cassell and Co. 12mo. (Popular Illustrated Series.)


1886. PASTORAL POEMS. London and New York: Cassell and Co. 4to.


1887. MEMORIALS OF COLEORTON. Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by
William Knight. Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Co. 12mo.
(Printed at the Edinburgh University Press.)


1887. THROUGH THE WORDSWORTH COUNTRY. By William Knight. London and New
York: Scribner and Welford. Engraving. 8vo.


Introduction by John Morley. London and New York: Macmillan and Co.
Crown 8vo.


1888. THE RECLUSE. London and New York: Macmillan and Co. 16mo.


1889. WORDSWORTHIANA. Edited by William Knight. London and New York:
Macmillan and Co. 16mo.


1889. POETICAL WORKS, with Memoir. Illustrated. 8 vols. New York: A. C.
Armstrong and Son. 16mo. (Printed at the University Press, Glasgow.)


1889. SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH. By William Knight, and other Members
of the Wordsworth Society. With Preface and Notes. New York: Scribner
and Welford. 8vo.


1889. WORDSWORTH’S POETICAL WORKS. Edited by William Knight. New York:
Macmillan and Co. 8 vols. 8vo. (First published in Edinburgh 1882-89.)


1889. LIFE OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. By William Knight. New York (and
London): Macmillan and Co. 3 vols. 8vo. (First published in Edinburgh,
in 1889.)


1891. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. By Elizabeth Wordsworth. New York: Scribner.
18mo. (Also London: Percival and Co.)


1889. EARLY POEMS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Edited by J. R. Tutin. London,
etc., and New York: George Routledge and Sons. (Routledge’s Pocket


1890. DOVE COTTAGE, Wordsworth’s Home from 1800 to 1808. By Stopford A.
Brooke. Small paper. London and New York: Macmillan and Co.


Introduction and Notes by William Knight. (Clarendon Press Series.)
London and New York: Macmillan and Co.


1892. WORDSWORTH’S LYRICS AND SONNETS. Selected and Edited by C. K.
Shorter. London: David Stott. New York: Macmillan and Co. 32mo.


1892. WORDSWORTH’S POETICAL WORKS. Edited with Memoir by E. Dowden. 7
vols. 16mo. London: George Bell and Sons. New York: 112 Fourth Avenue.


GLEANINGS FROM WORDSWORTH. Edited by J. Robertson. Vest-pocket Edition.
New York: White, Stokes and Allen. (Printed at the University Press,


WE ARE SEVEN. By William Wordsworth.[503] With Drawings by Mary L.
Grow. Small 4to. New York: E. P. Dutton and Co.


ODE. INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY. With Biographical Sketch and Notes.
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., “Riverside Literature Series,” No.
76. March 1895.

[503] This was lithographed and printed by Ernest Nister at Nuremberg.






1867. ALGER, W. R. _The Genius of Solitude._ Boston: Roberts Brothers.
16mo. _Wordsworth_, p. 277.


1859-71. ALLIBONE, S. A. _Critical Dictionary of English Literature,
and British and American Authors._ Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Co. 3
vols. Imperial 8vo. _Wordsworth_, vol. iii. pp. 2843-2849.


1884. BURROUGHS, J. “Fresh Fields.” Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co.
16mo. _In the Wordsworth Country_, p. 161.[504]


1878. CALVERT, G. H. _Wordsworth; A Biographic, Aesthetic Study._
Boston: Lee-Sheperd. 16mo.


1863. CALVERT, G. H. _Scenes and Thoughts in Europe._ Boston: 16mo.[505]


1873. CHANNING, W. ELLERY. Address before the Mercantile Library
Company of Philadelphia, May 11, 1841. Also in his “Complete Works.”


1895. CHENEY, JOHN VANCE. _Thoughts on Poetry and the Poets._ Chicago.
Chapter X. is on Wordsworth.


1879. DESHLER, C. D. _Afternoons with the Poets._ New York: Harper and
Brothers. 12mo. _Wordsworth._


1871. FIELDS, J. T. _Yesterdays with Authors._ Boston: Houghton,
Mifflin and Co.; also,

1889. _Wordsworth, A Sketch_, p. 253.


1838. FROST, JOHN. _Select Works of the British Poets, with
Biographical Sketches._ Philadelphia: Thomas Wardle. _Wordsworth._


1849. GRAHAM, G. F. _English Synonyms._ New York: D. Appleton and Co.
Edited with an Introduction and Illustrative Authorities. By Henry


1854. GILES, H. T. _Illustrations of Genius._ Boston: Ticknor and
Fields. 16mo. _William Wordsworth_, pp. 239-266.


1886. GRISWOLD, H. T. _Home Life of Great Authors._ Chicago. 18mo.
_William Wordsworth_, p. 43.


1849. GRISWOLD, R. W. _Sacred Poets of England and America._ New York.


1842. GRISWOLD, R. W. _Poets and Poetry of England._ Philadelphia:
Carey and Hunt. A Review and Selections.


HODGKINS, LOUISE M. _Guide to Nineteenth Century Authors._ Boston.
_Wordsworth Bibliography._


1884. HUDSON, H. N. _Studies in Wordsworth._ Boston: Little, Brown and


1886. JOHNSON, C. F. _Three Americans and Three Englishmen._ New York.


1864. LOWELL, J. R. _The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth._ Boston:
Little, Brown and Co. 4 vols. Vol. 1.--_A Sketch of Wordsworth’s Life._


1876. LOWELL, J. R. _Among my Books._ Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co.
_Wordsworth_,[509] pp. 201-251.


1887. LOWELL, J. R. _Democracy and other Addresses._ Boston: Houghton,
Mifflin and Co. _Wordsworth_,[510] 22 pp.


1885. MASON, E. T. _Personal Traits of British Authors._ New York:
Charles Scribner’s Sons. _William Wordsworth_, pp. 7-55.

What follows is due to American Enterprise, but it is, of course, not
strictly American.



1883. MACDONALD, GEORGE. _The Imagination and other Essays_
(“Wordsworth’s Poetry,” pp. 245-263). Boston: D. Lothrop and Co.


1881. MYERS, F. W. H. _William Wordsworth._ (“English Men of Letters
Series.”) New York: Harper and Brothers. 12mo.

1884. Same Title. New York: J. W. Lovell. 12mo.

1889. Same Title. New York. Harper and Brothers.


1838. OSBORN, LAUGHTON. _The Vision of Rubeta._[511] Boston: Weeks,
Jordan and Co. 8vo.


1846. OSSOLI, MARGARET FULLER. _Art, Literature, and the Drama._
Boston. _Wordsworth._[512]


1885. PHILLIPS, MAUD GILLETTE. _A Popular Manual of English
Literature._ New York: Harper and Brothers. Vol. ii. pp. 217-264.


1851. REED, HENRY. _Memoirs of Wordsworth._ By C. Wordsworth. Edited by
Henry Reed. Boston: Ticknor, Reed, and Fields.[513]


1857. REED, HENRY. _Lectures on the British Poets._ In two vols.
Philadelphia: Claxton, Remsen and Haffelfinger. Vol. ii. pp. 199-231.
Lecture XV.--_Wordsworth._


1870. REED, HENRY. _Lectures on the British Poets._ Philadelphia:
Claxton, Reinsen and Haffelfinger. _Essay on the English Sonnet_, vol.
ii. pp. 235-272.[514]


1887. SAUNDERS, FREDERICK. _Story of some Famous Books._ New York:
Armstrong and Son. _William Wordsworth_, p. 125.


SAUNDERS, FREDERICK. _Evenings with Sacred Poets._ New York: Randolph
and Co. _Wordsworth._[515]


1894. SCUDDER, HORACE E. _Childhood in Literature and Art._ Boston:
Houghton, Mifflin and Co. In the chapter entitled “In English
Literature and Art,” Wordsworth is dealt with (chap. vi. pp.


1895. SCUDDER, VIDAD. _The Life of the Spirit in Modern English Poets._
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co. Crown 8vo.


1892. STEDMAN, C. E. _Nature and Elements of Poetry._ Boston: Houghton,
Mifflin and Co.[517]


1846. TUCKERMAN, H. T. _Thoughts on the Poets._ New York. _Genius and
Writings of Wordsworth._


1882. WELSH, A. H. _Development of English Literature and Language._
Chicago. _Wordsworth_, vol. ii. pp. 330-339.


1850. WHIPPLE, E. P. _Essays and Reviews._ Boston: Houghton, Mifflin
and Co. _Wordsworth_, vol. i. p. 222.[518]


1871. WHIPPLE, E. P. _Literature and Life._ Boston: Houghton, Mifflin
and Co. _Wordsworth_, p. 253.[519]


1854. WILLIS, N. P. _Famous Persons and Places._ New York: Charles

[504] A reprint of the article was published in _The Century Magazine_,


[505] Not of much importance--the author praises Wordsworth and
criticises Jeffrey.


[506] About the same in the “Address” as in the “Complete Works.”


[507] Contains four hundred quotations from Wordsworth.


[508] Contains 258 pages on Wordsworth.


[509] The same as above with some corrections, and twenty-three new
pages added.


[510] The above was first given as an address to “The Wordsworth
Society,” 1884, and appeared in _Wordsworthiana_ in 1889.


[511] In the Appendix are about twenty pages containing a ferocious
criticism on “Wordsworth, his Poetry and his Misrepresentations.”


[512] In the Memoirs of M. F. Ossoli (Boston, vol. iii. p. 84) there is
a short reference to Wordsworth.


[513] Introduction and Editorial Notes by H. R., interesting and


[514] In the Lecture on the Sonnet, there are interesting allusions to
Wordsworth’s Sonnets.


[515] This book and the previous one have about half a dozen pages each
on Wordsworth.


[516] The substance of this chapter on Wordsworth as a revealer of
Childhood, first appeared in _The Atlantic Monthly_, October 1885.


[517] In this volume there are many references to Wordsworth of
interest--especially at pp. 202, 206, 210 and 263--on _Subjective
Interpretation, The Pathetic Fallacy_, etc.


[518] This essay was also published in _The Complete Poetical Works_.
Philadelphia: James Kay jun. and Brothers, 1837. Also in _The North
American Review_, 1844.


[519] The above appeared first in _The North American Review_. It was
“written when the news came of Wordsworth’s death.” It is not given
elsewhere in this list.


[520] Letter V. contains some characteristic remarks on Wordsworth
by “Christopher North,” who gave Willis a note of introduction to
Wordsworth and Southey. Willis did _not_ write about Wordsworth in this
book. As it is inserted in some of the lists, I include it, with this




FROM 1801 TO 1840

In examining American Reviews and Magazines, for articles on
Wordsworth, I find--after much laborious search--only some
insignificant notices of his poems, of no critical or literary merit.

I have carefully read each article which appears in this list, and I
add brief explanatory notes, indicative of the general tenor of the
articles. It was disheartening to find that many of the references to
Wordsworth, in Poole’s elaborate _Index to Periodical Literature_,
were inaccurate and misleading; and that nearly all the articles on
Wordsworth published in _Harper’s Monthly Magazine_ for 1850 were
“conveyed” from contemporary English journals.


1801. _The Port Folio._ Vol. i.

Memoranda regarding the first publication of “Lyrical Ballads” in

1801. December, p. 407. The Original Prospectus of “Lyrical
Ballads.”[521] (James Humphreys publisher.)

1801. P. 408.[522]

1802. Vol. ii. p. 62.[523]

1803. Vol. iii. p. 288.[524]

1803. P. 320. Note on the poem beginning,

“A whirl-blast from behind the hill.”

1804. Vol. iv. p. 87. Announcement that the editor wishes to obtain a
copy of _Descriptive Sketches_ (1798) from some publisher or reader.

1804. P. 96.[525]


1802. _The Philadelphia Gazette and Daily Advertiser._ (Published by
Samuel Relf.) Friday, Jan. 15, “Wordsworth’s Lyrical Ballads.” (The
publisher’s advertisement of the First American Edition.)


1819. DANA, R. H.[526] _North American Review._ Vol. xxiii. p. 276. In
review of Hazlitt’s _English Poets_.


1824. _North American Review._ Vol. xviii. p. 356.[527]


1824. _United States Literary Gazette._ Vol. i. p. 245.[528]


1825. _The Atlantic Magazine_, vol. ii. pp. 334-348.


1827. _Christian Monthly Spectator._ Vol. ix. p. 244. (A short article
on Wordsworth.)


1832. PRESCOTT, W. H. _North American Review._ Vol. xxxv. pp. 171,
173-176. (In a “Review of English Literature of Nineteenth Century,” is
an important reference to Wordsworth.)


1836. EDWARDS, B. B. _American Biblical Repository._ Vol. vii. pp.


1836. _American Quarterly Review._ Vol. xix. p. 66.[530]


1836. _American Quarterly Review._ Vol. xix. pp. 420-442.[531]


1836. FELTON, C. C. _The Christian Examiner._ Vol. xix. p. 375.[532]


1836. PORTER, NOAH. _Christian Quarterly Spectator._[533] Vol. viii.
pp. 127-151.


_Christian Monthly Spectator._ Vol xviii. p. 1.[534]


1837. _“Waldie’s” Octavo Library._ (Edited by John J. Smith.)[535]


1837. _“Waldie’s” Octavo Library._ March 21.[536]


1837. _Southern Literary Messenger._ Vol. iii. p. 705. “By a


1837. WHIPPLE, E. P. _The Complete Poetical Works of William
Wordsworth_[538] (1837).


1839. _New York Review._ Vol. iv. pp. 1-71.[539]


1839. _American Biblical Repository._[540] Vol. i. pp. 206-239. (Second


1839. _Boston Quarterly Review._ Vol. ii. pp. 137-169. (A review of
“Wordsworth’s Poetical Works,” London, 1832.)


1839. _American Methodist Review._[541] Vol. xxi. p. 449.

[521] An enthusiastic announcement.


[522] An appreciatory and critical Introductory Note to _The Waterfall
and the Eglantine_.


[523] Editorial reporting the increasing popularity of “Lyrical
Ballads,” and further commendation of the poems.


[524] Note on _The Fountain_.


[525] An editorial announcement that “Lyrical Ballads” had reached
a third edition, and containing one of the most ardent tributes to
Wordsworth in the language.


[526] Not long, but of much interest.


[527] An unsigned and excellent review of the 1824 (Boston) edition
of the poems. The writer remarks that not a volume of Wordsworth’s
poems has been published in America since 1802. Attributed to F.W.P.


[528] Anonymous review of the 1824 (Boston) edition of the poems. One
of the very best.


[529] Sectarian in spirit, but on the whole fair to Wordsworth.


[530] Anonymous. A well-written article of about twenty-four pages,
reviewing _Yarrow Revisited_. It was one of the earliest reviews in an
American journal that claimed for Wordsworth a high order of genius. It
was probably written by Robert Walsh, the editor of the _Review_.


[531] An article on Wordsworth’s sonnets on Capital Punishment, in an
article on “The English Sonnet.” Judge Henry Reed found this to have
been written by his father, Professor Henry Reed.


[532] An appreciative criticism of eight pages.


[533] Entitled “Wordsworth and his Poetry.” A review of the 1824
edition and of _Yarrow Revisited_, Boston, 1835. An estimate of
Wordsworth’s claims as a poet, and as a man. A more comprehensive,
stronger, more inviting criticism (in appealing to those to whom the
poetry is unknown) has not been written. It ranks, in my opinion, among
the best criticisms on Wordsworth written in America.


[534] H. Tuckerman wrote an article on Wordsworth for his magazine.
This may be the article.


[535] The number for 7th March contains a notice of Wordsworth, in a
review of Reed’s _Complete Poetical Works of Wordsworth_ (1837).


[536] Another mention of Reed’s edition, and of the discovery that “a
fellow-townsman,” Dr. T. C. James, anticipated the fact of Wordsworth’s
popularity. A quotation from “Memoirs of Historical Society of
Pennsylvania” to prove Dr. James’ prophecy.


[537] Writer unknown.


[538] To class this review with others of an early date, I have placed
it among Periodical Reviews. It appeared in _The North American
Review_, 1844; and again, in 1850, in _Essays and Reviews_.


[539] A review of Reed’s 1837 edition of “Wordsworth’s Poetical Works.”
Professor Henry Reed’s son--Judge Henry Reed of Philadelphia--informs
me that it was written by his father.


[540] This article is entitled “Modern English Poetry--Byron, Shelley,
and Wordsworth.”


[541] By an unknown author.




Arranged as far as possible according to merit. It is difficult
to distinguish between the first twelve or fifteen. After them I
have placed the articles in the _Literary World_. Most of them have
not been noted in other lists, and are especially interesting, as
being additional tributes of Wordsworth’s intimate friend, Henry
Reed. I am indebted to Judge Henry Reed of Philadelphia, for more
carefully examining his father’s papers, and to the _Literary World_
for ascertaining, as far as possible, all that his father wrote on
Wordsworth. The criticisms that immediately follow are not without
interest. The last half dozen are given, for the most part, because
they appear in _Poole’s Index_, or in other lists. I have omitted two
or three which are of no value whatever.



1844. WHIPPLE, E. P. _North American Review._[542] Vol. lix. pp.


1857. HAVEN, GILBERT. _Methodist Quarterly Review._ Vol. xxxix. p.


1851. PASSMORE, J. C. _The Church Review._ Vol. iv. pp. 169-188.[544]


1866. ALGER, W. R. _Monthly Religious Magazine._ Vol. xxxvi. p. 294.


1850. MUZZEY, A. B. _The Christian Examiner._ Vol. xlix. p. 100. (The
title of this article is “Wordsworth, the Christian Poet.”)


1851. GOODWIN, H. M. _The New Englander._ Vol. xlvii. p. 309. (Title,
“Wordsworth as a Spiritual Teacher.”)


1851. _North American Review._ Vol. lxxiii. p. 473.[545]


1851. MOUNTFORD, W. _The Christian Examiner._ Vol. li. p. 275.[546]


1851. PORTER, NOAH. _The New Englander Magazine._ Vol. ix. p. 583.[547]


1851. WIGHT, ORLANDO WILLIAMS. _American Whig Review._ Vol. xiv. pp.


1851. WIGHT, ORLANDO WILLIAMS. _American Whig Review._ Vol. xiii. pp.


1854. _Presbyterian Quarterly Review._ Vol. ii. pp. 643-663.[550]
Article 1.


1854. _Presbyterian Quarterly Review._ Vol. iii. pp. 69-88.[551]
Article 2.


1841. TUCKERMAN, H. _Southern Literary Messenger._ Vol. vii. p. 105.


1850. _Literary World._ Vol. vi. p. 485. “William Wordsworth.”[552]


1850. REED, HENRY. _Literary World._ Vol. vi. pp. 581, 582. On


1850. REED, HENRY. _Literary World._ Vol. vii. pp. 205, 206. A second
short article.


1850. _Literary World._ “The Prelude.” Vol. vii. p. 167.[553]


1850. _Literary World._ “Visit to Wordsworth’s Grave.” Vol. vii. p.


1850. SPENCER, J. A. _Literary World._ “Visit to Wordsworth.” November


1851. _Literary World._ Vols. viii. ix. (May 24, June 14, July 12,
August 2.)[556] Reviews of Christopher Wordsworth’s _Memoirs_ of his


1853. REED, HENRY. _Literary World._ Vol. xii. June 25.[557]


1850. _Southern Quarterly Review._ Vol. xviii. p. 1. Review of the
_Poetical Works of Wordsworth_. London: Moxon, 1845.


1856. _United States Democratic Review._ Vol. vi. pp. 281-295. (New
Series.) Article 1. “Of Wordsworth’s life, beginning at Bristol.”


1856. _United States Democratic Review._ Vol. vi. p. 363. (New Series.)
Article 2.


1850. _Graham Magazine._ Vol. i. pp. 105-116. Supposed to be written
by Charles J. Peterson. (Signed P.) Review of the life and poetry
of Wordsworth, written by one who confessed to an admiration for
Wordsworth’s genius bordering on veneration.



1878. _American Journal of Education._ Wordsworth and Cambridge. Vol.
xxviii. p. 426.[558]


1843. _United States Democratic Review._ Vol. xii. p. 158.[559]


1836-63. _Christian Review._ Vol. xvi. p. 434. “Wordsworth as a
Religious Poet.”


1844. CUYLER, T. L. _Godey’s Lady’s Book._ Vol. xxviii. (January). “On
the English Lakes and Wordsworth.”


1850. _International Magazine._ Vol. i. p. 271. “A Review of _The
Prelude_, from _The Examiner_.”


1855. _Brownson’s Quarterly Review._ Vol. xii. p. 525. “Wordsworth’s
Poetical Works.”


1850. _Graham Magazine._ Vol. i. pp. 322, 323.[560]


1842. _United States Democratic Review._ Vol. x. pp. 272-288. (New


1865. _North American Review._ Vol. c. p. 508. Boston: Little, Brown
and Co.


1850. _Southern Literary Messenger._ Vol. xvi. p. 474.[562]


1851. _Harper’s Monthly Magazine._ Vol. iii. p. 502.[563]


1845. BOWEN, F. _North American Review._ Vol. lxi. p. 217.[564]


1863. ALGER, W. R. _North American Review._ Vol. xcvi. p. 141.[565]


1850. _Southern Literary Messenger._ Vol. xvi. p. 637.[566]


1863. WARD, J. H. _North American Review._ Vol. xcvii. p. 387.


1853. _The National Magazine._ Vol. iii. No. 7, “An Estimate of


1853. _The Christian Observer._ Vol. 1. pp. 307-381.[567]


1858. “The Genius of Wordsworth,” in the “Editor’s Table” of _Russell’s
Magazine_. Charleston, S.E. Vol. iii. pp. 271-274.

[542] A review of the 1837 edition of Wordsworth’s poems. Perhaps no
abler or more comprehensive review of Wordsworth’s life and writings
has been written than this, by America’s foremost critic.


[543] One of the best of the early American criticisms.


[544] A review of the 1851 edition. Contains an earnest plea for the
study of Wordsworth’s poetry in America. One of the noblest criticisms


[545] On the “Life and Poetry of Wordsworth.” A review of _The
Prelude_. Unsigned; but the name is given elsewhere, as T. Chase.


[546] A review of the _Memoirs of Wordsworth_, by his nephew, the
Bishop of Lincoln.


[547] A review of Professor Reed’s edition of the _Memoirs of
Wordsworth_, Boston, 1851.


[548] A review of the _Memoirs_, signed O. W.W.


[549] A review of _The Prelude_.


[550] Anonymous. A short review of _The Prelude_, and, at greater
length, of _The Life_ (edited by Reed). An estimate of his work and


[551] Traces the literary life of the poet. Claims for Wordsworth the
precedence to Coleridge in the utterance of a spiritual Philosophy.


[552] A notice of Wordsworth’s death, unsigned; but Mr. Wilberforce
Eames--of the Lenox Library--informs me, that their library now owns
Mr. Evert A. Duyckinck’s copy of the _Literary World_, and that
gentleman’s own initials are appended in pencil to this article. Mr.
Duyckinck was editor of the _Literary World_.


[553] Judge Reed, Professor Henry Reed’s son, does not attribute this
article to his father. There is an impression that Professor Reed
published an article on _The Prelude_. His lecture on that poem was
never published.


[554] Signed by R. F. Correspondence, _London Literary Gazette_, August


[555] Possibly the same as in that scarce number of the _Southern
Literary Messenger_. Vol. xvi. p. 474.


[556] These articles, in the opinion of Judge Henry Reed, are not by
his father, Professor Henry Reed.


[557] Notice to those who wish to subscribe to the Memorial to
Wordsworth, signed.


[558] An article on the University of Cambridge, and an account of
Wordsworth’s residence at St. John’s College, 1787-1791.


[559] Six pages on Wordsworth’s _Sonnet to Liberty_.


[560] A brief review of _The Prelude_ and _Excursion_, and a comparison
between the two poems.


[561] On Wordsworth’s sonnets in favour of Capital Punishment.


[562] On the house at Rydal.


[563] An unsigned, four paged article on Wordsworth, Byron Scott, and


[564] In a “Review of Longfellow’s _Poets and Poetry of Europe_,” a
page on Wordsworth’s influence.


[565] In “The Origin and Uses of Poetry,” a few lines on Wordsworth.


[566] A notice, with extracts from _The Prelude_.


[567] “The Religion of Wordsworth’s Poetry.”




These are not chronologically arranged by Mrs. St. John, but see her
note to Section V.--ED.


1882. DEWITT, DR. JOHN. _Presbyterian Review._ Vol. iii. p. 241.[568]


1884. BURROUGHS, JOHN. _The Century Magazine._ Vol. v. p. 418. This is
entitled “Wordsworth’s Country.”


1880. CRANCH, C. P. _The Atlantic Monthly._ Vol. xlv. p. 241. Entitled
“Wordsworth.” A review of the 1880 Poetical Works (Boston). The writer
notes what he considers the chief excellency as well as defects of
Wordsworth’s poetry.


1888. MURRAY, J. O. _The Homiletic Review._ Vol. xvi. pp. 295-304.
Title, “The Study of Wordsworth’s Poetry.”


1890. PATTISON, T. H. _The Baptist Review._ Vol. xii. p. 265. “The
Religious Influence of Wordsworth.”


1889. HUTTON, LAWRENCE. _Harper’s Monthly Magazine._ Vol. lxxviii.[569]
(in Literary Notes).


1880-1. CONWAY, MONCURE D. _Harper’s Monthly Magazine._ “The English
Lakes and their Genii.” Vol. lxii. pp. 7, 161, 339.


1883. PEDDER, H. C. _The Manhattan._ Vol. ii. pp. 418-433.[570]


1876. YARNALL, ELLIS. _Lippincott’s Magazine._ Vol. xviii. pp. 543-554,
669-683. “Walks and Visits in Wordsworth’s Country.” Written in the
summer of 1855 and 1857.


1871. FIELDS, J. T. _The Atlantic Monthly._ Vol. xxviii. p. 750. On
Wordsworth, in an article entitled “Our Whispering Gallery.” The same
article is cut down in _Yesterdays with Authors_.[571]


1892. PARSONS, EUGENE. _The Examiner._ Vol. lxx. p. 1. On “Tennyson and


1888. WILLIAMS, T. C. _Andover Review._ Vol. ix. p. 30.


1889. NOBLE, FRED PERRY. _The Homiletic Review._ Vol. xviii. p. 306.
“The Value of Wordsworth to the Preacher.”


1873. HIMES, JOHN A. _Lutheran Quarterly Review._ Vol. iii. p. 252.
“The Religious Faith of Wordsworth and Tennyson as shown in their


1881. JOHNSON, E. E. _American Church Review._ Vol. xxxiii. p. 139.
“Influence of Wordsworth’s Poetry.”


1886. COAN, T. M. _The New Princeton Review._ Vol. i. pp. 297-319.
“Wordsworth’s Passion.”


1889. VEDDER, H. C. _The New York Examiner_, August 28. “The Decline of


1877. COAN, T. M. _The Galaxy._ Vol. xxiii. pp. 322-336. “Wordsworth’s


1881. BOWEN, F. F. _The Dial._ Vol. i. p. 21. “A Review of Myers’


1881. GERHART, R. L. _Reformed Quarterly Review._ Vol. xxviii. p. 344.
“Wordsworth and his Art.”


1887. WOODBERRY, G. E. _The Nation._ Vol. xlv. p. 487. “Wordsworth and
the Beaumonts.”


1881. BROWNELL, W. C. _The Nation._ Vol. xxxii. p. 153. “Myers’
Account of Wordsworth.”


1872. CROFFUT, W. A. _Lakeside Monthly._ Vol. viii. pp. 418-425.


1895. THORPE, F. W. _The Philadelphia Call._ “The Home of Wordsworth.”
Autobiographic and critical.


1879. _Appleton’s Journal._ Vol. xxii. p. 223. “How to Popularise


1874. DE-VERE, A. _The Catholic World._ Vol. xix. p. 795.
“Recollections of Wordsworth.”


1875. DE-VERE, A. _The Catholic World._ Vol. xxii. p. 329.


1891. PAGE, H. A. _The Century Magazine._ No. 1. pp. 453-864.
“Wordsworth and De Quincey. With hitherto unpublished letters.”[574]


1853. _The National Magazine._ Vol. iii. pp. 36-40.


1853. _Brownson’s Quarterly Review._ Vol. xii. 525.


1896. THEODORE W. HUNT in _Bibliotheca Sacra_. No. 66. “William


1896. J. W. BRAY. _The Literary Democracy of Wordsworth_ in “Poet
Love.” Vol. iii. No. 6.

[568] On “The Homiletic Value of Wordsworth’s Poetry.” One of the
ablest papers ever written on Wordsworth. It contains the best reply to
Matthew Arnold’s estimate of his poetry.


[569] This is a review of Rolf’s _Wordsworth’s Selected Poems_.
It contains one of the most appreciative tributes to Wordsworth’s
influence which has appeared in America.


[570] On “Wordsworth and the Modern Age.” Illustrated by W. St.
J. Harper, and other artists. It deals with the especial need of
Wordsworth’s “calming influence in the exacting competition for
success,” and gives a comparison between Virgil and Wordsworth.


[571] Of interest to Americans.


[572] It aims to give some explanation of the lack of interest in
Wordsworth’s poetry in later days.


[573] An attempt, the writer says, to point out the corrections,
leaving their interpretation to the reader.


[574] Written by an Englishman, but published first in an American




The following books record visits made by eminent Americans to



1863. HAWTHORNE, N. _Our Old Home, and English Note-Books._ Vol. ii.
pp. 24-56, etc.; also,

1883. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co. “A Visit to Wordsworth.”


1856. EMERSON, R. W. _English Traits._ Boston: James Munroe and Co. pp.
24-31; also,

1881. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co. Visit to Wordsworth, in chapter
entitled “First Visit to England.”


1876. TICKNOR, GEORGE. _Life, Letters, and Journals._ Boston: James R.
Osgood and Co. 2 vols. Vol. i. pp. 287, 288, etc. Vol. ii. p. 167, etc.


1836. DEWEY, ORVILLE. _The Old World and the New._ Boston: 2 vols. pp.


1884. BRYANT, W. C. Prose Works. In a chapter on “Poets and Poetry of
the English Language” (New York: D. Appleton and Co.) a few pages deal
with Wordsworth.




1846. WALLACE, W. _Poem on Wordsworth._ New York: 12mo.


1850. FIELD, JAMES T. _Graham Magazine_ (October). “Wordsworth.”


1850. ALEXANDER, W. _Graham Magazine_ (November), p. 221. “Wordsworth.
(A Sonnet.)”


1850. H. M. R. _Harpers Magazine._ “Sonnet on the Death of Wordsworth.”
Vol. i. p. 218.


1850. E. A. W. _Literary World._ “Sonnet on Wordsworth.” Vol. vii. p.


1874. WHITTIER, J. G. Whittier’s Works. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and
Co. “Poem on Wordsworth. Written on a blank leaf of _Wordsworth’s
Memoirs_, 1851.” Vol. iv. p. 66.


1890. SCOLLARD, CLINTON (?) _Northern Christian Advocate._ “The Poet’s
Seat. A Sonnet on Wordsworth. Written at Ambleside, 1890.”


1893. “To Wordsworth, after reading his XXX Ecclesiastical Sonnets” in
_The Echo and the Poet_, by William Cushing Bamburgh. N. Y. 1893.





1892. CORSON, HIRAM. “The Divine Immanence in Nature, and the
relationship of the human spirit thereto, as presented in Wordsworth’s


WINCHESTER, C. T. “The Lake District and Wordsworth.”


PRENTISS, GEORGE L. “Hurstmonceaux Rectory and Rydal Mount.” (Personal


HOYT, A. S. “Wordsworth, the Man and the Poet.” (Imperfectly reported
in _The Houghton Record_.)



By ÉMILE LEGOUIS, Professeur à la Faculté de Lettres, Université de
Lyon, France



There is no separate or whole book on Wordsworth that I know of.


_Voyage historique et littéraire en Angleterre et en Écosse_, par
Amédée Pichot (_passim_). 3 vols. in 8. Paris, 1829.[575] An English
translation was published in London in 1825.

_Revue Britannique._

Mai 1827. Wordsworth, Crabbe, and Campbell, pp. 61-79, a criticism
translated from the _New Monthly Magazine_.

Février 1835. Poésie domestique de la grande Bretagne, translated from
the _New Monthly Magazine_.

Janvier 1836, p. 190. Compte-rendu de “Yarrow Revisited and other
Poems,” translated from the _Repository of Knowledge_.

_Revue des Deux Mondes._ 1er Août 1835. William Wordsworth, par A.

_Revue Contemporaine._ 15 Décembre 1853. Poètes contemporains de
l’Angleterre: William Wordsworth et John Wilson, par L. Étienne.

_Littérature anglaise_ de H. Taine.[577] 1864. Vol. iv. pp. 311-324.

_Études sur la Littérature contemporaine_, par Éd. Schérer.[578]

_Revue critique d’histoire et de littérature._ 16 Janvier 1882. Article
de James Darmesteter sur la Biographie de Wordsworth, par Myers.[579]

_Essais de Littérature anglaise_, par James Darmesteter. Paris,

_Histoire de la Littérature anglaise_, par M. Léon Boucher. Paris,
1890. pp. 355-363.

_La Renaissance de la Poésie anglaise_, par Gabriel Sarrazin. 1887.

_Études et Portraits_, par Paul Bourget. Vol. ii. Études
anglaises.[581] 1888.

_Étude sur la Vie et les Œuvres de Robert Burns_, par Auguste
Angellier. Paris, 1892. (_Passim_, et surtout vol. ii. pp. 362-393,
Étude sur le sentiment de la nature dans Wordsworth et autres poètes
anglais contemporains.)

_Le général Michel Beaupuy_, par Georges Bussière et Émile Legouis.
Paris, 1891.

[575] Vol. ii. pp. 363-394.--ED.

[576] This was signed Y, which was Fontaney’s pseudonym.--E.L.

[577] Wordsworth et la poésie moderne de l’Angleterre.--_Histoire de la
Littérature anglaise_, par H. Taine.--ED.

[578] Vol. vi. pp. 127, 128, and vol. vii. pp. 1-59.--ED.

[579] pp. 227-236.--ED.

[580] pp. 227-236.--ED.

[581] Vol. ii. pp. 83; 126-134.--ED.



Pas de traduction complète, ni de volume spécial de traductions de

Une traduction par Fontaney annoncée en 1837 comme devant paraître dans
le _Bibliothèque anglo-française_, n’a pas paru.

En dehors des poèmes ou parties de poèmes traduit par les critiques
énumérés plus haut, il n’y a guère de traduction en prose de quelque



SAINTE-BEUVE. _Joseph Delorme._ 1829.

    “Le plus long jour de l’année,” p. 88.
    Sonnet, “Personal Talk,” p. 123.
    “Sonnet sur le Sonnet,” p. 124.

_Consolations._ 1830.

    Sonnet, “It is a beauteous evening,” p. 234.
    Sonnet, “Not Love, nor War,” p. 239.
    Sonnet, “Quand le poète en pleurs,” p. 236.

_Pensées d’Août._ Trois sonnets imités de Wordsworth.

      I. “Reposez-vous et remerciez.”
     II. “La Cabane du Highlander.”
    III. “Le Château de Bothwell.”

Sainte-Beuve cite en outre dans ses _Nouveaux Lundis_ des 21 et 22
Avril 1862, trois sonnets de Wordsworth traduits en vers, par l’Abbé
Roussel. Ces traductions assez pauvres de poésie sont celles des
sonnets suivants--

    “Nuns fret not.…”
    “Dark and more dark.…”
    “These words were uttered as in pensive mood.”

JEAN AICARD a traduit _We are Seven_ dans _La Chanson de l’Enfant_.

PAUL BOURGET (_Études et Portraits_, vol. ii. _op. cit._) a traduit
l’un des sonnets au Duddon.

    “What aspect bore the Man …?”



Wordsworth’s influence on French literature was altogether very slight,
nor did it make itself felt till about 1830; when, after a very limited
period, it silently died away.

Wordsworth was but little known by his contemporary Châteaubriand, who
merely names him among other poets in his _Essai sur la Littérature
anglaise_. Byron, Walter Scott, and in a lesser degree Thomas
Moore, were the only writers of Great Britain whose works told on
our literature at that time. Villemain, in his criticism of Byron,
contemptuously dismisses all the so-called lake-poets to fix on his
hero. He calls them: “Des métaphysiciens, raisonneurs sans invention,
mélancoliques sans passion, qui, dans l’éternelle rêverie d’une vie
étroite et peu agitée, n’avaient produit que des singularités sans
puissance sur l’imagination des autres hommes. Tel était Woodsworth
(_sic_) et le subtil mais non touchant Coléridge.”

To Byron also, and to him alone (Ossian being excepted) among the
poets of England, was Lamartine indebted. I am not sure that he names
Wordsworth once; but still the striking analogy between the ideas and
imaginative style of both cannot fail to be noticed by the reader.
Without insisting on a parallel that might be drawn between many pages
of _The Excursion_ and of _Jocelyn_, I will only point out two short
pieces of Lamartine that bear strong resemblance to two poems of
Wordsworth, so much so that they almost read like free imitations--

          Lamartine                       Wordsworth’s

    “A Augusta,” _Recueillements  |
    Poètiques_, xx.               | _Nightingale and Stock-dove._
    “Le Fontaine du Foyard,”      |
    _Nouvelles Confidences_.      | _The Fountain._

Victor Hugo, so far as I know, only names Wordsworth once, in _L’Âne_--

        …Young le pleureur des nuits,
    Wordsworth l’esprit des lacs …

M. Sully Prudhomme when he wrote _A l’Hirondelle_ (stanzas, la vie
intérieure) appears to have borne in mind _To a Skylark_, “Ethereal
minstrel,” etc.

M. Coppée has often been called a French Wordsworth, owing to his
poetical collection called _Les Humbles_, wherein he shows the same
partiality as the English Poet does for humble themes and characters,
together with a bold attempt to naturalise trivial or ludicrous
details in serious poetry; but there is no proof, as far as I know, of
Wordsworth’s influence having been strong upon him.

If we except two or three disciples of Wordsworth, neither he, nor
the lake-poets taken as a whole, seem to have been much thought of, or
even read, by our contemporary verse-writers. The word _Lakist_ has
generally been used as a synonym for “weak and doleful mysticism.”

(_a_) _Revue Encyclopédique._ 1831. Article de Pierre Leroux, sur la
“Poésie de notre Époque.” “L’Angleterre a entendu autour de ses lacs
bourdonner comme des ombres plaintives un essaim de poètes abîmés dans
une mystique contemplation.”

(_b_) _Journal d’un Poète_, par Alfred de Vigny. (Ed. Michel Lévy.
1867. p. 80.) “Barbier vient de publier _Il Pianto_. Les délices de
Capone ont amolli son caractère de poésie et Brizeux a déteint sur
lui ses douces couleurs virgiliennes et laquistes (_sic_) dérivant de

(_c_) THÉOPHILE GAUTIER (_Portraits Contemporains_, p. 174) almost
seems to derive the word _Lakiste_ from Lamartine’s poem called _Le
Lac_. He has just mentioned the poem and goes on: “Il ne faut pas
croire que Lamartine, parce qu’il y a toujours chez lui une vibration
et une résonnance de harpe éolienne, ne soit qu’un mélodieux _lakiste_
et ne sache que soupirer mollement la mélancolie et l’amour. S’il a le
soupir, il a la parole et le cri …” (_Journal Officiel_, 8 Mars 1869.)

I now come to the man who, first and foremost among our poets and
critics, paid due homage to Wordsworth, _i.e._ Sainte-Beuve. I have
already enumerated his several translations in verse from Wordsworth.
Strange to say, the voluminous critic has no single article with
Wordsworth for its main subject; but, whoever will go through his many
volumes will find many judicious and admiring references to the poet.

Moreover, as a poet, Sainte-Beuve has endeavoured to naturalise in
France the poetic style that has been associated with the name of
Wordsworth. He expressly claims Wordsworth as one of his masters in his
_Consolations_ xviii. “A Antony Deschamps.” Among his bosom-poets he

        …Wordsworth peu connu, qui des lacs solitaires
    Sait tòus les bleus reflets, les bruits et les mystères,
    Et qui, depuis trente ans vivant au même lieu,
    En contemplation devant le même Dieu,
    A travers les soupirs de la mousse et de l’onde,
    Distingue, au soir, des chants venus d’un meilleur monde.

The original attempt of Sainte-Beuve (for he was original in his very
choice of Wordsworth as a model at a time when Byron engrossed all
the admiration of the French poets) has been ably characterised by
Théophile Gautier in his “Portraits Contemporains” (pp. 208, 209), an
article reprinted from _La Gazette de Paris_, 19 Novembre 1871:--

    “(Sainte-Beuve) avait été en poésie un inventeur. Il avait
    donné une note nouvelle et toute moderne, et de tout le cénacle
    c’était à coup sûr le plus réellement romantique. Dans cette
    humble poésie qui rappelle par la sincérité du sentiment et
    la minutie du détail observé sur nature, les vers de Crabbe,
    de Wordsworth, et de Cowper, Sainte-Beuve s’est frayé de
    petits sentiers à mi-côte, bordés d’humbles fleurettes, où nul
    en France n’a passé avant lui. Sa facture un peu laborieuse
    et compliquée vient de la difficulté de réduire à la forme
    métrique des idées et des images non exprimées encore ou
    dédaignées jusque-là, mais que de morceaux merveilleusement
    venus où l’effort n’est plus sensible!”

Sainte-Beuve’s admiration of Wordsworth is a well-known fact. Less
generally known is the influence of this admiration on several poets
of that time (_circa_ 1830-40), who, either through Sainte-Beuve’s
imitations, or with a direct knowledge of Wordsworth’s poems, to the
reading of which they had thus been stimulated, offer great marks of
resemblance with Wordsworth. I have quoted a judgment of De Vigny that
considers Brizeux and Barbier as having turned _laquistes_ through
Sainte-Beuve. I know no other immediate proof of this influence.
Perhaps Barbier and Brizeux have consigned it somewhere. Anyhow Brizeux
with his glorification of his youthful years and school-time, with
his intense love of his native Brittany, his fond attachment to local
customs and habits, his lamentations on the death of the poetical poet
as embodied in his own province (_Élégie de la Bretagne_), is to all
extent and purposes the most thoroughly Wordsworthian of all our poets.
There may be more of Wordsworth’s _philosophy_ in Lamartine, but there
is more of his _poetry_ proper in Brizeux.

The influence of Wordsworth on Maurice de Guérin and Hippolyte de la
Morvonnais, is more easily ascertained than the preceding. Here, again,
Sainte-Beuve appears to have been the intermediate agent.[582]

In 1832-33 Maurice de Guérin, fresh from the reading of the
_Consolations_, and De la Morvonnais, who came to be a direct admirer
of the Lake Poets, and chiefly of Wordsworth, set to write short
poems which they aspired to make as little different from prose as
possible, rejecting all traditional ornaments, and making little of
the rhythmical improvements of the _Romantiques_ proper. Some of those
pieces were inserted in a local paper as downright prose (no stop
intervening at the end of the lines), whereas the said paper would
not have made room for verse.[583] This looks like trifling, but the
earnestness of this attempted revolution is shown in the interesting
poems of Maurice de Guérin. Another outcome of this was an intended
publication on Wordsworth, of which it is impossible to say whether it
was to be a criticism, or a translation, of the English Poet. It is
thus mentioned in a letter of Guérin to De la Morvonnais of June 30,
1836: “Nous avons adressé des circulaires à un grand nombre d’éditeurs
pour l’impression Wordsworth. Nous attendons la réponse d’un moment à
l’autre.” The answer must have been unfavourable, as nothing more was
heard of the intended publication.

The early death of Guérin left it for De la Morvonnais alone to spread
the influence of Wordsworth’s poetry in France. Of him we read in
Sainte-Beuve’s _Étude sur Maurice de Guérin_:--

    “La Morvonnais, vers ce temps même (1834), en était fort
    préoccupé (des lakistes et de leur poésie), au point d’aller
    visiter Wordsworth à sa résidence de Rydal Mount, près des lacs
    du Westmoreland, et de rester en correspondance avec ce grand
    et pacifique esprit, avec ce patriarche de la Muse intime.
    Guérin, sans tant y songer, ressemblait mieux aux Lakistes en
    ne visant nullement à les imiter.”

Of the supposed correspondence between Wordsworth and De la Morvonnais
no trace remains. M. Hippolyte de la Blanchardière, De la Morvonnais’
grandson, has informed me that in the collection of his grandfather’s
letters there is no letter of Wordsworth to be found. That at least
a Study of Wordsworth existed at the time is proved by the following
preface to his poem _La Thébaïde des Grèves_, written by his friend A.
Duquesnel (ed. by Didier, Quai des Augustins. 1864. p. xxvii.)

     “Nous avons trouvé dans les _Reliquiae_ du poète de
    l’Arguenon[584] de précieuses études sur les lakistes. Il
    s’était passionné pour ces hommes dans les dix dernières années
    de sa vie (1843-53).[585] Wordsworth lui semblait plus grand
    que Byron, qu’il trouvait trop emphatique, trop solennel,
    pas assez près de la nature. L’auteur de _l’Excursion_ a
    exercé une pénétrante influence sur l’esprit et le cœur de la
    Morvonnais, nous trouvons dans ses cahiers des traductions
    en vers de Wordsworth, de Coléridge, de Crabbe, qui, lui, ne
    faisait pas partie de ce groupe. Nous les publierons peut-être
    un jour; elles ont d’autant plus d’intérêt que l’on ne connaît
    guère les lakistes en France, que par de rares extraits. Il
    s’était livré, comme on le verra, à une étude approfondie de la
    littérature anglaise. Son admiration pour Walter Scott était

The study and translations above-mentioned have also been lost, many
manuscripts of De la Morvonnais having been destroyed.

It remains for me to point out some allusions to, or imitations of,
Wordsworth in the existing verse of De la Morvonnais.

In the _Thébaïde des Grèves_ (1838), “Le Petit Patour” is a close
imitation of _We are Seven_, the conclusion being--

    Cet enfant en sait plus que moi sur l’existence;
    Savoir vivre est savoir souffrir avec constance.

“Le Vagabond,” a story of a vagrant by whom the poet is taught
resignation, is an imitation of _Resolution and Independence_.

In “A Sainte-Beuve” are found these two lines--

    J’ai posé sous mon bras mon penseur solitaire,
    Mon Wordsworth tant aimé de l’amant du mystère.

In “Dispersion, à Mistress Hemans,” etc., we read this--

    Nous primes un poète, une femme angélique
    Dont peu savent chez nous la voix mélancolique,
    Disciple de Wordsworth, le sublime penseur,
    Des lakistes chéris je la nomme la sœur.

In “Dernières Paroles” we find this praise of Wordsworth--

    Or, ce soir-là, je lus un homme de génie;
    Celui dont la mystique et profonde harmonie
    Sonne pour les élus des poétiques dons,
    Et soulève notre âme en ses grands abandons …
                        …Oh! ne pourrai-je voir
    Ces lacs du Westmoreland, mon désir, mon espoir?
    Cet homme est honoré des puissances secrètes;
    Lui mort, à ses beaux lacs, romantiques retraites,
    Des pèlerins viendront, penseurs religieux.
    Le monde méconnut l’homme mélodieux.

I pass over many sonnets, and divers other poems, in which the
influence of Wordsworth is unmistakable, and come to a last quotation
which is useful to elucidate an allusion in Wordsworth’s _The Poet’s
Dream: Sequel to the Norman Boy_. In this poem, written in 1842,
Wordsworth says--

    But oh! that Country-man of thine, whose eye, loved Child, can see
    A pledge of endless bliss in acts of early piety,
    In verse, which to thy ear might come, would treat this simple theme,
    Nor leave untold our happy flight in that adventurous dream.

As Wordsworth read very little French poetry in his old age, I think he
here alludes to a poem of his admirer De la Morvonnais, who very likely
sent him that _Thébaïde des Grèves_ (1838), in which Wordsworth was so
highly praised. The passage alluded to is taken from “Solitude,” and
reads thus--

    Enfant, Il (Dieu) te promet le domaine de l’ange
      Si tu gardes l’amour et la foi des aïeux,
    Et sa mère, aujourd’hui loin de l’humaine fange,
      Que tu n’as pas connue et qui t’attend aux cieux.

As a whole, De la Morvonnais, though he imitates Wordsworth, is very
unlike him. Of course I do not mean to compare the two, but even
in like subjects he differs from Wordsworth, owing to a sort of
constitutional nervousness and brooding melancholy.[586]

[582] Voir Maurice de Guérin, _Journal, Lettres et Poèmes_, publiés par
J. S. Trébutien avec Préface de Sainte-Beuve (1860).--E.L.

[583] In the above work--_Séjour de M. de Guérin en Bretagne;
Impressions et Souvenirs de M. François du Breil de Marzan_, pp.

[584] H. de la Morvonnais.--E.L.

[585] A mistake: his admiration of Wordsworth began before 1832.--E.L.

[586] In _Voyage historique et littéraire en Angleterre et en Écosse_,
par Amédée Puchot, Lettre XXIV. there are numerous references to
Wordsworth. It begins with a quotation from _Tintern Abbey_. In
Lettre LXV. there is additional critical reference to Wordsworth and
Coleridge. In the _Album poétique des jeunes personnes_, par Mme.
Tastu, there is a “Sonnet imité de Wordsworth,” by St. Beuve, pp. 101,

    C’est un beau soir, un soir paisible et solennel,
    A la fin du saint jour la nature en prière
    Le tait, comme Marie à genoux sur la pierre, etc.--ED.

See also the _Nouveaux Lundis_ of St. Beuve, 21 and 22 Avril 1862,
where there are “trois sonnets traduits en vers par l’Abbé Roussel”
from Wordsworth.



1. _Inistar omnium._--I wish to explain the accidental omission of Mr.
T. Hutchinson’s name amongst those who helped me in Volumes I. and II.
(see the prefatory note to this volume), and also that of Mr. Hill. It
was due to my returning, “for press,” an uncorrected copy of my Preface.

2. Vol. ii. p. 106, _Ruth_, l. 54--The following extract from Bartram’s
_Travels_, etc., illustrates Wordsworth’s debt to him:--

    Proceeding on our return to town in the cool of the evening
    … we enjoyed a most enchanting view; … companies of young
    innocent Cherokee virgins, some busy gathering the rich
    fragrant fruit, others having already filled their baskets, lay
    reclined under the shade of floriferous and fragrant native
    bowers … disclosing their beauties to the fluttering breeze
    … whilst other parties, more gay and libertine, were yet
    collecting strawberries, or wantonly chasing their companions,
    tantalising them, staining their lips and cheeks with the ripe

3. In vol. ii. p. 348, the date of publication should be Sept. 17,
1802, not 1803.

4. In _The Prelude_ (vol. iii. p. 202, book v. l. 26) the quotation
which I could not trace is from Shakespeare, Sonnet No. 64--

    This thought is as a death, which cannot choose
    But weep to have that which it fears to lose.

5. Vol. v. p. 113 (_The Excursion_, book iii. l. 187).--Mr. William
E. Walcott--Laurence, Mass. U.S.A.--sends me the following variant
readings, which he has found in a copy of the edition of 1814--

                      … crystal tube
    Be lodged therein …

P. 151, book iv. l. 187--

    Nor sleep, nor …

6. Vol. vii. p. 276.--This sonnet first appeared in the _New Monthly
Magazine_, part ii. p. 26, under the title, _To B. R. Haydon. Composed
on seeing his Picture of Napoleon, musing at St. Helena_; and it is
dated “Saturday, June 11th, 1831.”

7. Vol. vii. p. 336.--This poem was published in the _Saturday
Magazine_, May 18, 1844, in which the fifth line is--

    Woe to the purblind men who fill.

8. It may be worth mentioning (1) that the quotation (not noted,
unfortunately, where it occurs)--

    Some natural tears she drops, but wipes them soon,

is from _Paradise Lost_, book xii. l. 645. See also _An Elegy delivered
at the Hot Wells_, Bristol, July 1789. (2) That the phrase “numerous
verse” is from _Paradise Lost_, book v. l. 150; and (3) that “lenient
hand of Time” is from Bowles’ sonnet--

    O Time, who know’st a lenient hand to lay
    Softest on sorrow’s wound.

Amongst those which I have failed to trace are the following:

    _Ecclesiastical Sonnets_, II. xxxiv.--

                … murtherer’s chain partake,
    Corded, and burning at the social stake.


      … in the painful art of dying

    _The Russian Fugitive_, Part II. l. 51--

      … if house it be or bower.

    _Elegiac Musings_, l. 41--

    Let praise be mute where I am laid.

    _Stanzas suggested in a Steamboat off Saint Bees’ Heads_, l. 37--

    Cruel of heart were they, bloody of hand.


                                                            VOL.    PAGE

  Aar, The Fall of the                                           vi  308

  Abbeys, Old                                                   vii  100

  Address from the Spirit of Cockermouth Castle                 vii  347

  Address to a Child                                             iv   50

  Address to Kilchurn Castle                                     ii  400

  Address to my Infant Daughter, Dora                           iii   14

  Address to the Scholars of the Village School of ----          ii   84

  Admonition                                                     iv   34

  Æneid, Translation of Part of the First Book of the          viii  276

  “Aerial Rock--whose solitary brow”                             vi  187

  Affliction of Margaret--, The                                 iii    7

  Afflictions of England                                        vii   72

  After-Thought (Duddon)                                         vi  263

  After-Thought (Tour on the Continent)                          vi  315

  Airey-Force Valley                                           viii  146

  Aix-la-Chapelle                                                vi  295

  “Alas! what boots the long laborious quest”                    iv  216

  Alban Hills, From the                                        viii   65

  Albano, At                                                   viii   64

  Alfred                                                        vii   24

  Alfred, His Descendants                                       vii   25

  Alice Fell; or, Poverty                                        ii  272

  Aloys Reding                                                   vi  310

  Ambleside                                                    viii  156

  America, Aspects of Christianity in (Three Sonnets)           vii   84

  American Episcopacy                                           vii   85

  American Tradition                                             vi  246

  Ancient History, On a celebrated Event in (Two Sonnets)        iv  242

  Andrew Jones                                                 viii  221

  Anecdote for Fathers                                            i  234

  Animal Tranquillity and Decay                                   i  307

  Anticipation (October 1803)                                    ii  436

  Anticipation of leaving School, Composed in                     i    1

  Apennines, Among the Ruins of a Convent in the               viii   82

  Apology (Ecclesiastical Sonnets, 1st part)                    vii   18

  Apology (Ecclesiastical Sonnets, 2nd part)                    vii   55

  Apology (Sonnets upon the Punishment of Death)               viii  112

  Apology (Yarrow Revisited)                                    vii  309

  Applethwaite, At                                              iii   23

  Aquapendente, Musings near                                   viii   42

  Armenian Lady’s Love, The                                     vii  232

  Artegal and Elidure                                            vi   45

  Authors, A plea for,                                         viii   99

  Author’s Portrait, To the                                     vii  318

  Autumn (September)                                             vi   64

  Autumn (Two Poems)                                             vi  201

  Avarice, The last Stage of                                     ii   60

  Avon, The (Annan)                                             vii  303

  Bala-Sala, At                                                 vii  365

  Balbi                                                          iv  237

  Ballot, Protest against the                                  viii  304

  Bangor, Monastery of Old                                      vii   13

  Baptism                                                       vii   89

  Barbara                                                        ii  178

  Beaumont, Sir George, Epistle to                               iv  256

  Beaumont, Sir George, Upon perusing the foregoing Epistle to   iv  267

  Beaumont, Sir George, Picture of Peele Castle, painted by     iii   54

  Beaumont, Sir George, Beautiful Picture, painted by            iv  271

  Beaumont, Sir George, Elegiac Stanzas addressed to            vii  132

  Beaumont, To Lady                                              iv   57

  Beggar, The Old Cumberland                                      i  299

  Beggars (Two Poems)                                            ii  276

  “‘Beloved Vale!’ I said, ‘when I shall con’”                   iv   35

  Benefits, Other (Two Sonnets)                                 vii   40

  Bible, Translation of the                                     vii   58

  Binnorie, The Solitude of                                      ii  204

  Bird of Paradise, Coloured Drawing of the                    viii   29

  Bird of Paradise, Suggested by a Picture of                  viii  140

  Biscayan Rite (Two Sonnets)                                    iv  241

  Bishops, Acquittal of the                                     vii   79

  Bishops and Priests                                           vii   86

  Black Comb, Inscription on a Stone on the side of              iv  281

  Black Comb, View from the top of                               iv  279

  “Blest Statesman He, whose Mind’s unselfish will”            viii  101

  Bologna, At (Three Sonnets)                                  viii   85

  Bolton Priory, The Founding of                                 iv  204

  Books and Newspapers, Illustrated                            viii  184

  Borderers, The                                                  i  112

  Bothwell Castle                                               vii  299

  Boulogne, On being stranded near the Harbour of                vi  378

  Bran, Effusion on the Banks of the                             vi   28

  Breadalbane, Ruined Mansion of the Earl of                    vii  295

  Brientz, Scene on the Lake of                                  vi  315

  Brigham, Nun’s Well                                           vii  347

  Britons, Struggle of the                                      vii   11

  Brothers, The                                                  ii  184

  Brothers Water, Bridge at the foot of                          ii  293

  Brougham Castle, Song at the Feast of                          iv   82

  Brownie’s Cell                                                 vi   16

  Brownie, The                                                  vii  297

  Brugès (Two Poems)                                             vi  288

  Brugès, Incident at                                           vii  198

  Buonaparté                                                     ii  323

  Buonaparté                                                     ii  331

  Buonaparté                                                     iv  228

  Burial in the South of Scotland, A Place of                   vii  285

  Burns, At the Grave of                                         ii  379

  Burns, Thoughts suggested near the Residence of                ii  383

  Burns, To the Sons of                                          ii  386

  Butterfly, To a                                                ii  383

  Butterfly, To a                                                ii  297

  Calais, August 1802                                            ii  331

  Calais, August 15, 1802                                        ii  334

  Calais, Composed by the Seaside, near                          ii  330

  Calais, Composed near                                          ii  332

  Calais, Composed on the Beach, near                            ii  335

  Calais, Fish-women at                                          vi  286

  Calvert, Raisley                                               iv   44

  Camaldoli, At the Convent of (Three Sonnets)                 viii   72

  Canute                                                        vii   27

  Canute and Alfred                                              vi  130

  Castle, Composed at ----                                       ii  410

  “Castle of Indolence,” Written in my Pocket Copy of
      Thomson’s                                                  ii  305

  Casual Incitement                                             vii   14

  Catechising                                                   vii   91

  Cathedrals, etc.                                              vii  105

  Catholic Cantons, Composed in one of the (Two Poems)           vi  312

  Celandine, The Small                                          iii   21

  Celandine, To the Small (Two Poems)                            ii  300

  Cenotaph (Mrs. Fermor)                                        vii  135

  Chamouny, Processions in the Vale of                           vi  363

  Character, A                                                   ii  208

  Charles the First, Troubles of                                vii   71

  Charles the Second                                            vii   75

  Chatsworth                                                    vii  272

  Chaucer, Selections from (Three Poems)                         ii  238

  Chiabrera, Epitaphs translated from                            iv  229

  Chichely, Archbishop, to Henry V.                             vii   47

  Child, Address to a                                            iv   50

  Child, Characteristics of a, three years old                   iv  252

  Child, To a (Written in her Album)                            viii   7

  Childless Father, The                                          ii  181

  Christianity in America, Aspects of (Three Sonnets)           vii   84

  Churches, New                                                 vii  102

  Church to be erected (Two Sonnets)                            vii  103

  Churchyard, New                                               vii  104

  Cintra, Convention of (Two Sonnets)                            iv  210

  Cistertian Monastery                                          vii   37

  Clarkson, Thomas, To                                           iv   62

  Clergy, Corruptions of the Higher                             vii   49

  Clergy, Emigrant French                                       vii  101

  Clerical Integrity                                            vii   78

  Clermont, The Council of                                      vii   30

  Clifford, Lord                                                 iv   82

  Clouds, To the                                               viii  142

  Clyde, In the Frith of, Ailsa Crag                            vii  369

  Clyde, On the Frith of                                        vii  370

  Cockermouth Castle, Address from the Spirit of                vii  347

  Cockermouth, In sight of                                      vii  346

  Coleorton, Elegiac Musings in the grounds of                  vii  269

  Coleorton, A Flower Garden at                                 vii  125

  Coleorton, Inscription for an Urn in the grounds of            iv   78

  Coleorton, Inscription for a Seat in the groves of             iv   80

  Coleorton, Inscription in a garden of                          iv   76

  Coleorton, Inscription in the grounds of                       iv   74

  Coleridge, Hartley, To                                         ii  351

  Collins, Remembrance of                                         i   33

  Cologne, In the Cathedral at                                   vi  297

  Commination Service                                           vii   96

  Complaint, A                                                   iv   17

  “Complete Angler,” Written on a blank leaf in the              vi  190

  Conclusion (Duddon)                                            vi  262

  Conclusion (Ecclesiastical Sonnets)                           vii  108

  Conclusion (Miscellaneous Sonnets)                            vii  177

  Conclusion (Prelude)                                          iii  367

  Conclusion (Sonnets upon the Punishment of Death)            viii  111

  Confirmation (Two Sonnets)                                    vii   92

  Congratulation                                                vii  102

  Conjectures                                                   vii    5

  Contrast, The. The Parrot and the Wren                        vii  141

  Convent in the Apennines                                     viii   82

  Convention of Cintra, Composed while writing a Tract
      occasioned by the (Two Sonnets)                            iv  210

  Conversion                                                    vii   17

  Convict, The                                                 viii  217

  Cora Linn, Composed at                                         vi   26

  Cordelia M----, To                                            vii  400

  Cottage Girls, The Three                                       vi  351

  Cottager to her Infant, The                                   iii   74

  Council of Clermont, The                                      vii   30

  Countess’ Pillar                                              vii  307

  Covenanters, Persecution of the Scottish                      vii   79

  Cranmer                                                       vii   62

  Crosthwaite Church                                           viii  157

  Crusaders                                                     vii   41

  Crusades                                                      vii   31

  Cuckoo and the Nightingale, The                                ii  250

  Cuckoo at Laverna, The                                       viii   67

  Cuckoo Clock, The                                            viii  151

  Cuckoo, To the                                                 ii  289

  Cuckoo, To the                                                vii  169

  Cumberland Beggar, The Old                                      i  299

  Cumberland Beggar, The Old, MS. Variants                     viii  220

  Cumberland, Coast of (In the Channel)                         vii  358

  Cumberland, On a high part of the coast of                    vii  337

  Daffodils, The                                                iii    4

  Daisy, To the (Two Poems)                                      ii  353

  Daisy, To the                                                  ii  360

  Daisy, To the                                                 iii   51

  Daniel, Picture of (Hamilton Palace)                          vii  303

  Danish Boy, The                                                ii   96

  Danish Conquests                                              vii   27

  Danube, The Source of the                                      vi  303

  Dati, Roberto                                                  iv  234

  Dedication (Miscellaneous Sonnets)                            vii  159

  Dedication (Tour on the Continent)                             vi  285

  Dedication (White Doe of Rylstone)                             iv  102

  Dedication (White Doe of Rylstone)                             vi   42

  Departure from the Vale of Grasmere                            ii  377

  “Deplorable his lot who tills the ground”                     vii   38

  Derwent, To the River                                          vi  193

  Derwent, To the River                                         vii  345

  Descriptive Sketches                                            i   35

  Descriptive Sketches                                            i  309

  Desultory Stanzas                                              vi  382

  Detraction which followed the Publication of a certain
      Poem, On the                                               vi  212

  Devil’s Bridge, To the Torrent at the                         vii  129

  Devotional Incitements                                        vii  314

  Dion                                                           vi  116

  Dissensions                                                   vii   10

  Distractions                                                  vii   68

  Dog, Incident characteristic of a favourite                   iii   48

  Dog, Tribute to the Memory of the same                        iii   49

  Donnerdale, The Plain of                                       vi  251

  Dora, To (A little onward)                                     vi  132

  Dora, To my Niece                                            viii  297

  Douglas Bay, Isle of Man, On entering                         vii  360

  Dover, Composed in the Valley near                             ii  341

  Dover, Near                                                    ii  343

  Dover, The Valley of (Two Sonnets)                             vi  380

  Druidical Excommunication                                     vii    7

  Druids, Trepidation of the                                    vii    6

  Duddon, The River                                              vi  225

  Dungeon-Ghyll Force                                            ii  138

  Dunollie Castle (Eagles)                                      vii  292

  Dunolly Castle, On Revisiting                                 vii  371

  Dunolly Eagle, The                                            vii  372

  Duty, Ode to                                                  iii   37

  Dyer, To the Poet John                                         iv  273

  Eagle and the Dove, The                                      viii  309

  Eagles (Dunollie Castle)                                      vii  292

  Eagle, The Dunolly                                            vii  372

  Easter Sunday, Composed on                                     vi  194

  Ecclesiastical Sonnets                                        vii    2

  Echo, The Mountain                                             iv   25

  Echo upon the Gemmi                                            vi  360

  Eclipse of the Sun, The                                        vi  345

  Eden, The River (Cumberland)                                  vii  385

  Edward VI.                                                    vii   59

  Edward VI. signing the Warrant                                vii   60

  Egremont Castle, The Horn of                                   iv   12

  Egyptian Maid, The                                            vii  252

  Ejaculation                                                   vii  107

  Elegiac Musings (Coleorton Hall)                              vii  269

  Elegiac Stanzas (Goddard)                                      vi  371

  Elegiac Stanzas (Mrs. Fermor)                                 vii  132

  Elegiac Stanzas (Peele Castle)                                iii   54

  Elegiac Verses (John Wordsworth)                              iii   58

  Elizabeth                                                     vii   65

  Ellen Irwin                                                    ii  124

  Emigrant French Clergy                                        vii  101

  Emigrant Mother, The                                           ii  284

  Eminent Reformers (Two Sonnets)                               vii   66

  Emma’s Dell                                                    ii  153

  Engelberg                                                      vi  316

  Enghien, Duke d’                                               vi  114

  “England! the time is come when thou should’st wean”           ii  432

  England, Afflictions of                                       vii   72

  Enterprise, To                                                 vi  218

  Episcopacy, American                                          vii   85

  Epistle to Sir George Beaumont                                 iv  256

  Epistle to Sir George Beaumont, Upon perusing the foregoing    iv  267

  Epitaph, A Poet’s                                              ii   75

  Epitaph in the Chapel-yard of Langdale                       viii  120

  Epitaphs translated from Chiabrera                             iv  229

  “Ere with cold beads of midnight dew”                         vii  145

  “Even as a dragon’s eye that feels the stress”                 vi   69

  Evening of extraordinary splendour, Composed upon an           vi  176

  Evening Star over Grasmere Water, To the                     viii  263

  Evening Walk, An                                                i    4

  Event in Ancient History, On a celebrated (Two Sonnets)        iv  242

  Excursion, The                                                  v    1

  Expostulation and Reply                                         i  272

  Fact, A, and an Imagination                                    vi  130

  Faery Chasm, The                                               vi  241

  Fancy                                                          iv   36

  Fancy and Tradition                                           vii  306

  Fancy, Hints for the                                           vi  242

  Farewell, A                                                    ii  324

  Farewell Lines                                                vii  155

  Farewell (Tour, 1833)                                         vii  341

  Farmer of Tilsbury Vale, The                                   ii  147

  Far-Terrace, The                                              vii  154

  Father, The Childless                                          ii  181

  Fathers, Anecdote for                                           i  234

  Fermor, Mrs. (Cenotaph)                                       vii  135

  Fermor, Mrs. (Elegiac Stanzas)                                vii  132

  Fidelity                                                      iii   44

  Filial Piety                                                  vii  231

  Fir Grove (John Wordsworth)                                   iii   66

  Fishes in a Vase, Gold and Silver                             vii  214

  Fish-women                                                     vi  286

  Flamininus, T. Quintius (Two Sonnets)                          iv  242

  Fleming, To the Lady (Rydal Chapel), (Two Poems)              vii  109

  Floating Island (D. W.)                                      viii  125

  Florence (Four Sonnets)                                      viii   78

  Flower Garden, A (Coleorton)                                  vii  125

  Flowers                                                        vi  235

  Flowers (Cave of Staffa)                                      vii  378

  Flowers in the Island of Madeira                             viii  177

  “Fly, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale!”                  ii  419

  Foresight, or Children gathering Flowers                       ii  298

  Forms of Prayer at Sea                                        vii   97

  Forsaken Indian Woman, Complaint of a                           i  275

  Forsaken, The                                                 iii   10

  Fort Fuentes                                                   vi  328

  Fountain, The                                                  ii   91

  Fox, Mr., Lines composed on the expected death of              iv   47

  France, Sky-prospect from the Plain of                         vi  377

  Francesco Pozzobonnelli                                        iv  236

  French Army in Russia (Two Poems)                              vi  107

  French Clergy, Emigrant                                       vii  101

  French Revolution                                              ii   34

  French Revolution, In allusion to Histories of the
      (Three Sonnets)                                          viii  130

  French Royalist, Feelings of a                                 vi  114

  Friend, To a (Banks of the Derwent)                           vii  348

  Funeral Service                                                vi   97

  Furness Abbey, At                                            viii  168

  Furness Abbey, At                                            viii  176

  Gemmi, Echo upon the                                           vi  360

  General Fast, Upon the late (1832)                            vii  323

  George the Third (November, 1813)                              iv  282

  George the Third, On the death of                              vi  209

  Germans on the Heights of Hockheim, The                        vi  216

  Germany, Written in                                            ii   73

  Gillies, Margaret, To (Two Poems)                            viii  114

  Gillies, Margaret                                            viii  306

  Gillies, Robert Pearce                                         vi   33

  Gipsies                                                        iv   65

  Glad Tidings                                                  vii   15

  Gleaner, The                                                  vii  202

  Glen-Almain, or, The Narrow Glen                               ii  393

  Glencroe, At the Head of                                      vii  295

  Glowworm, The                                                viii  231

  Goddard, Elegiac Stanzas                                       vi  371

  Gold and Silver Fishes in a Vase (Two Poems)                  vii  214

  Goody Blake and Harry Gill                                      i  253

  Gordale                                                        vi  185

  Grace Darling                                                viii  310

  Grasmere, Departure from the Vale of (August 1803)             ii  377

  Grasmere, Home at                                            viii  235

  Grasmere, Inscription on the Island at                         ii  213

  Grasmere, Return to                                            ii  419

  Grasmere Lake, Composed by the side of                         iv   73

  Grave-stone, A (Worcester Cathedral)                          vii  201

  “Great men have been among us; hands that penned”              ii  346

  Green, George and Sarah                                      viii  266

  Green Linnet, The                                              ii  367

  Greenock                                                      vii  383

  Greta, To the River                                           vii  344

  “Grief, thou hast lost an ever ready friend”                   vi  195

  Grotto, Written in a                                         viii  234

  Guernica, Oak of                                               iv  245

  Guilt and Sorrow                                                i   77

  Gunpowder Plot                                                vii   69

  Gustavus IV                                                    iv  227

  Gwerndwffnant, Holiday at                                    viii  284

  H. C., Six years old, To                                       ii  351

  Hambleton Hills, After a journey across the                    ii  349

  Happy Warrior, Character of the                                iv    7

  Hart-Leap Well                                                 ii  128

  Hart’s-Horn Tree                                              vii  305

  Haunted Tree, The                                              vi  199

  Hawkshead, Written as a School Exercise at                   viii  211

  Hawkshead School, In anticipation of leaving                    i    1

  Hawkshead School, Address to the Scholars of                   ii   84

  Haydon, To B. R.                                               vi   61

  Haydon, To B. R. (Picture of Napoleon Buonaparte)             vii  276

  Heidelberg, Castle of (Hymn for Boatmen)                       vi  301

  Helvellyn, To ----, on her first ascent of                     vi  135

  Henry Eighth, Portrait of                                     vii  166

  Her eyes are wild                                               i  258

  Hermitage (St. Herbert’s Island)                               ii  210

  Hermitage, Near the Spring of the                              vi  175

  Hermit’s Cell, Inscriptions in and near                        vi  170

  Highland Boy, The Blind                                        ii  420

  Highland Broach, The                                          vii  310

  Highland Girl, To a                                            ii  389

  Highland Hut                                                  vii  296

  Hint from the Mountains                                        vi  156

  Hints for the Fancy                                            vi  242

  Historian, Plea for the                                      viii   61

  Hoffer                                                         iv  213

  Hogg, James, Extempore Effusion upon the death of            viii   24

  Holiday at Gwerndwffnant                                     viii  284

  Home at Grasmere                                             viii  235

  Horn of Egremont Castle, The                                   iv   12

  Howard, Mrs., Monument of (Wetheral), (Two Sonnets)           vii  386

  Humanity                                                      vii  222

  Hutchinson, Sarah, To                                         vii  162

  Hymn for Boatmen (Heidelberg)                                  vi  301

  Hymn, The Labourer’s Noon-day                                 vii  408

  I.F., To                                                     viii  307

  Idiot Boy, The                                                  i  283

  Illustrated Books and Newspapers                             viii  184

  Illustration (The Jung-Frau)                                  vii   70

  Imagination                                                    vi   67

  Immortality, Ode, Intimations of                             viii  189

  Indian Woman, Complaint of a Forsaken                           i  275

  Infant Daughter, Address to my                                iii   14

  Infant M---- M----, To the                                    vii  170

  Infant, The Cottager to her                                   iii   74

  Influence Abused                                              vii   26

  Influence of Natural Objects                                   ii   66

  Influences, Other                                             vii   19

  Inglewood Forest, Suggested by a View in                      vii  304

  Inscription for a Monument in Crosthwaite Church (Southey)   viii  157

  Inscription for a Stone (Rydal Mount)                         vii  269

  Inscriptions (Coleorton)                                       iv   74

  Inscriptions (Hermit’s Cell)                                   vi  170

  Installation Ode                                             viii  320

  Interdict, An                                                 vii   32

  Introduction (Ecclesiastical Sonnets)                         vii    4

  Introduction (Prelude)                                        iii  132

  Invasion, Lines on the expected                                ii  437

  Inversneyde                                                    ii  389

  Invocation to the Earth                                        vi   95

  Iona (Two Sonnets)                                            vii  379

  Iona, The Black Stones of                                     vii  381

  Isle of Man (Two Sonnets)                                     vii  362

  Isle of Man, At Bala-Sala                                     vii  365

  Isle of Man, At Sea off the                                   vii  359

  Isle of Man, By the Sea-shore                                 vii  361

  Isle of Man (Douglas Bay)                                     vii  360

  Italian Itinerant, The                                         vi  338

  Italy, After leaving (Two Sonnets)                           viii   84

  “It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown”                   ii  375

  “I watch, and long have watched, with calm regret”             vi  197

  Jedborough, The Matron of                                      ii  414

  Jewish Family, A                                              vii  195

  Joanna, To                                                     ii  157

  Joanna H., Lines addressed to                                viii  282

  Joan of Kent, Warrant for Execution of                        vii   60

  Jones, Rev. Robert                                             vi  257

  Journey Renewed                                                vi  257

  June, 1820                                                     vi  214

  Jung-Frau, The, and the Fall of the Rhine                     vii   70

  Kendal, Upon hearing of the death of the Vicar of              vi   40

  Kendal and Windermere Railway, On the projected              viii  166

  Kent, To the Men of (October, 1803)                            ii  434

  Kilchurn Castle, Address to                                    ii  400

  Killicranky, In the Pass of                                    ii  435

  King’s College Chapel, Cambridge, Inside of (Three Sonnets)   vii  106

  Kirkstone, The Pass of                                         vi  158

  Kirtle, The Braes of                                           ii  124

  Kitten and Falling Leaves, The                                iii   16

  Laborer’s Noon-day Hymn, The                                  vii  408

  Lady, To a, upon Drawings she had made of Flowers in
      Madeira                                                  viii  177

  Lady E. B., and the Hon. Miss P., To the                      vii  128

  Lamb, Charles, Written after the death of                    viii   17

  Lancaster Castle, Suggested by the view of                   viii  103

  Langdale, Epitaph in the Chapel-yard of                      viii  120

  Laodamia                                                       vi    1

  Last of the Flock, The                                          i  279

  Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci, The                         vi  343

  Latimer and Ridley                                            vii   61

  Latitudinarianism                                             vii   76

  Laud                                                          vii   71

  Leonardo da Vinci, The Last Supper                             vi  343

  Lesbia                                                       viii   32

  Liberty (Gold and Silver Fishes)                              vii  216

  Liberty (Tyrolese Sonnets)                                     iv  214

  Liberty, Obligations of Civil to Religious                    vii   81

  Liege, Between Namur and                                       vi  293

  Lines, composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey                ii   51

  Lines composed on the expected death of Mr. Fox                iv   47

  Lines, Farewell                                               vii  155

  Lines left upon a Seat in a Yew-tree                            i  108

  Lines on the expected Invasion, 1803                           ii  437

  Lines suggested by a Portrait from the Pencil of F. Stone
     (Two Poems)                                               viii    1

  Lines written as a School Exercise at Hawkshead              viii  211

  Lines written in Early Spring                                   i  268

  Lines written in the Album of the Countess of Lonsdale       viii    8

  Lines written upon a Stone, upon one of the Islands at Rydal   ii   63

  Lines written upon hearing of the death of the late Vicar
      of Kendal                                                  vi   40

  Lines written while sailing in a Boat at Evening                i   32

  Liturgy, The                                                  vii   88

  Loch Etive, Composed in the Glen of                           vii  291

  Lombardy, In                                                 viii   83

  London, Written in (1802), (Two Sonnets)                       ii  344

  Longest Day, The                                               vi  153

  Long Meg and her Daughters                                    vii  390

  Lonsdale, The Countess of (Album)                            viii    8

  Lonsdale, To the Earl of                                        v   20

  Lonsdale, To the Earl of                                      vii  392

  Louisa                                                         ii  362

  Love, The Birth of                                           viii  215

  Love lies bleeding (Two Poems)                               viii  148

  Loving and Liking                                             vii  320

  Lowther                                                       vii  391

  Lowther, To the Lady Mary                                      vi  211

  Lucca Giordano                                               viii  183

  Lucy Gray; or, Solitude                                        ii   99

  Lucy (Three Poems)                                             ii   78

  Lucy (Three years she grew)                                    ii   81

  Lycoris, Ode to (Two Poems)                                    vi  145

  M. H., To                                                      ii  167

  Madeira, Flowers in the Island of                            viii  177

  Malham Cove                                                    vi  184

  Manse, On the sight of a (Scotland)                           vii  286

  March, Written in                                              ii  293

  Margaret ----, The Affliction of                              iii    7

  Mariner, By a Retired                                         vii  364

  “Mark the concentred hazels that enclose”                      vi   71

  Marriage Ceremony                                             vii   94

  Marriage of a Friend, Composed on the Eve of the               iv  276

  Marshall, To Cordelia                                         vii  400

  Mary Queen of Scots, Captivity of                              vi  191

  Mary Queen of Scots, Lament of                                 vi  162

  Mary Queen of Scots (Workington)                              vii  349

  Maternal Grief                                                 iv  248

  Matron of Jedborough, The                                      ii  414

  Matthew                                                        ii   87

  May Morning, Composed on (1838)                              viii   97

  May Morning, Ode composed on                                  vii  146

  May, To                                                       vii  148

  Meditation                                                    vii  401

  Memory                                                        vii  117

  “Men of the Western World!”                                  viii  112

  Mental Affliction                                            viii   36

  Merry England                                                 vii  343

  Michael                                                        ii  215

  Michael Angelo, From the Italian of (Three Sonnets)           iii  380

  Michael Angelo, Translation from                             viii  265

  “Milton! thou should’st be living at this hour”                ii  346

  Missions and Travels                                          vii   23

  Monasteries, Dissolution of the (Three Sonnets)               vii   52

  Monasteries, Saxon                                            vii   22

  Monastery, Cistertian                                         vii   37

  Monastery of Old Bangor                                       vii   13

  Monastic Power, Abuse of                                      vii   50

  Monastic Voluptuousness                                       vii   51

  Monkhouse, Mary                                               vii  170

  Monks and Schoolmen                                           vii   39

  Monument of Mrs. Howard (Two Sonnets)                         vii  386

  Monument (Long Meg and her Daughters)                         vii  390

  Moon, The (The Shepherd, looking eastward)                     vi   68

  Moon, The (With how sad steps, O Moon)                         iv   38

  Moon (The Crescent-moon, the Star of Love)                   viii  127

  Moon, The (Sea-side)                                         viii   13

  Moon, The (Rydal)                                            viii   15

  Moon, The (Who but is pleased to watch)                      viii  184

  Moon, The (How beautiful the Queen of Night)                 viii  188

  Moon, The (Once I could hail)                                 vii  152

  Morning Exercise, A                                           vii  178

  Mosgiel Farm (Burns)                                          vii  383

  Mother, The Mad                                                 i  258

  Mother’s Return, The                                           iv   63

  Mountains, Hint from the                                       vi  156

  Mull, In the Sound of                                         vii  293

  Music, Power of                                                iv   20

  Mutability                                                    vii  100

  Naming of Places, Poems on the                                 ii  153

  Namur and Liege, Between                                       vi  293

  Natural Objects, Influence of                                  ii   66

  “Near Anio’s stream, I spied a gentle Dove”                  viii   65

  Needlecase in the form of a Harp, On seeing a                 vii  157

  Negro Woman                                                    ii  342

  Newspaper, Composed after reading a                           vii  290

  Nightingale, The                                               vi  214

  Nightingale, The Cuckoo and the                                ii  250

  Night Piece, A                                                  i  227

  Night-thought, A                                             viii   88

  Nith, On the Banks of                                          ii  383

  Norman Boy, The                                              viii  132

  Norman Conquest, The                                          vii   28

  North Wales, Composed among the Ruins of a Castle in          vii  131

  Nortons, The Fate of the                                       iv  100

  November, 1806                                                 iv   49

  November, 1813                                                 iv  282

  November 1 (1815)                                              vi   63

  Nunnery                                                       vii  388

  Nun’s Well, Brigham                                           vii  347

  Nutting                                                        ii   70

  Oak and the Broom, The                                         ii  174

  Oak of Guernica                                                iv  245

  Octogenarian, To an                                          viii  185

  Ode, Installation                                            viii  320

  Ode, Vernal                                                    vi  138

  Ode (Who rises on the Banks of Seine)                          vi  104

  Ode (1814) (When the soft hand)                                vi   96

  Ode (1815) (Imagination--ne’er before content)                 vi   88

  Ode, The Morning of the Day of Thanksgiving                    vi   74

  Ode to Duty                                                   iii   37

  Ode to Lycoris (Two Poems)                                     vi  145

  Ode composed on May Morning                                   vii  146

  Ode, Intimations of Immortality                              viii  189

  Oker Hill in Darley Dale, A Tradition of                      vii  230

  “O Nightingale! thou surely art”                               iv   67

  “On Nature’s invitation do I come”                             ii  118

  Open Prospect                                                  vi  243

  Ossian, Written in a blank leaf of Macpherson’s               vii  373

  Our Lady of the Snow                                           vi  318

  Oxford, May 30, 1820 (Two Sonnets)                             vi  213

  Painter, To a (Two Sonnets)                                  viii  114

  Palafox                                                        iv  222

  Palafox                                                        iv  228

  Palafox                                                        iv  240

  Papal Abuses                                                  vii   33

  Papal Dominion                                                vii   34

  Papal Power                                                   vii   36

  Papal Unity                                                   vii   42

  Parrot and the Wren, The                                      vii  141

  Parsonage in Oxfordshire, A                                    vi  217

  Pastoral Character                                            vii   87

  Patriotic Sympathies                                          vii   74

  Paulinus                                                      vii   15

  Peele Castle, Suggested by a Picture of                       iii   54

  Pelion and Ossa                                                ii  238

  Pennsylvanians, To the                                       viii  179

  Persecution                                                   vii    8

  Personal Talk                                                  iv   30

  Persuasion                                                    vii   16

  Peter Bell                                                     ii    1

  Peter Bell, On the detraction which followed                   vi  212

  Pet-Lamb, The                                                  ii  142

  Philoctetes                                                   vii  167

  Picture, Upon the sight of a beautiful                         iv  271

  Piety, Decay of                                               vii  163

  Piety, Filial                                                 vii  231

  Pilgrim Fathers (Two Sonnets)                                 vii   84

  Pilgrim’s Dream, The                                           vi  167

  Pillar of Trajan, The                                         vii  137

  Places of Worship                                             vii   87

  Plea for Authors, A                                          viii   99

  Plea for the Historian                                       viii   61

  Poet and the Caged Turtledove, The                            vii  265

  Poet’s Dream, The                                            viii  135

  Poet’s Epitaph, A                                              ii   75

  Poet to his Grandchild, A                                    viii  305

  Point at issue, The                                           vii   58

  Point Rash Judgment                                            ii  163

  Poor Robin                                                   viii  116

  Poor Susan, The Reverie of                                      i  226

  Popery, Revival of                                            vii   61

  Portrait, Lines suggested by a (Two Poems)                   viii    1

  Portrait of I.F., On a                                       viii  306

  Portrait of the Duke of Wellington, On a                     viii  118

  Portrait, To the Author’s                                     vii  318

  Postscript (John Dyer)                                         vi  264

  Power of Music                                                 iv   20

  Power of Sound, On the                                        vii  203

  Prayer at Sea, Forms of                                       vii   97

  Prayer, The Force of                                           iv  204

  Prelude, Prefixed to “Poems of Early and Late Years”         viii  123

  Prelude, The                                                  iii  121

  Presentiments                                                 vii  266

  Primrose of the Rock, The                                     vii  274

  Prioress’ Tale, The                                            ii  240

  Processions (Chamouny)                                         vi  363

  Prophecy, A. February, 1807                                    iv   59

  Punishment of Death, Sonnets upon the                        viii  103

  Queen, To the                                                viii  319

  Quillinan, To Rothay                                          vii  171

  Railway, On the projected Kendal and Windermere              viii  166

  Railways, etc.                                                vii  389

  Rainbow, The                                                   ii  291

  Ranz des Vaches, On hearing the                                vi  326

  Recovery                                                      vii    9

  Redbreast chasing the Butterfly, The                           ii  295

  Redbreast, The                                                vii  410

  Redbreast, To a                                              viii   38

  Reflections                                                   vii   57

  Reformation, General view of the Troubles of the              vii   64

  Reformers, Eminent (Two Sonnets)                              vii   66

  Reformers in Exile, English                                   vii   64

  Regrets                                                       vii   99

  Regrets, Imaginative                                          vii   56

  Repentance                                                    iii   11

  Reproof                                                       vii   21

  Resolution and Independence                                    ii  312

  Rest and be thankful                                          vii  295

  Resting-place, The (Two Sonnets)                               vi  254

  Retirement                                                    vii  165

  Return                                                         vi  248

  Return, The Mother’s                                           iv   63

  Reverie of Poor Susan                                           i  226

  Rhine, Author’s Voyage down the                              viii  273

  Rhine, Upon the Banks of the                                   vi  299

  Richard I                                                     vii   31

  Richmond Hill (Thomson)                                        vi  214

  Ridley, Latimer and                                           vii   61

  Robinson, To Henry Crabb (Tour in Italy, 1837)               viii   41

  Rob Roy’s Grave                                                ii  403

  Rock, Inscribed upon a                                         vi  173

  Rocks, Two heath-clad                                        viii  170

  Rocky Stream, Composed on the Banks of a                       vi  208

  Rocky Stream, On the Banks of a                              viii  188

  Rogers, Samuel, To                                            vii  280

  Roman Antiquities                                            viii   33

  Roman Antiquities (Old Penrith)                               vii  308

  Roman Refinements, Temptations from                           vii   10

  Romance of the Water Lily                                     vii  252

  Rome (Two Sonnets)                                           viii   62

  Rome, At (Three Sonnets)                                     viii   59

  Rome, The Pine of Monte Mario at                             viii   58

  Roslin Chapel, Composed in                                    vii  287

  Rotha Q----, To                                               vii  171

  Ruins of a Castle in North Wales                              vii  131

  Rural Architecture                                             ii  206

  Rural Ceremony                                                vii   98

  Rural Illusions                                               vii  319

  Russian Fugitive, The                                         vii  239

  Ruth                                                           ii  104

  Rydal, At, on May Morning (1838)                             viii   94

  Rydal Chapel                                                  vii  109

  Rydal, Written upon a Stone at                                 ii   63

  Rydal, In the woods of                                        vii  176

  Rydal Mere, By the side of                                    vii  403

  Rydal Mount, Inscription for a Stone in the Grounds of        vii  269

  S. H., To                                                     vii  162

  Sacheverel                                                    vii   82

  Sacrament                                                     vii   93

  Sailor’s Mother, The                                           ii  270

  Saint Bees’ Head, In a Steam-boat off                         vii  351

  Saint Catherine of Ledbury                                   viii   34

  Saint Gothard (Ranz des Vaches on the Pass of)                 vi  326

  Saint Herbert’s Island, Derwent-water (Hermitage)              ii  210

  Saints                                                        vii   54

  Salinero, Ambrosio                                             iv  233

  Salisbury Plain, Incidents upon                                 i   77

  San Salvador, The Church of                                    vi  332

  Saxon Clergy, Primitive                                       vii   19

  Saxon Conquest                                                vii   12

  Saxon Monasteries                                             vii   22

  Saxons                                                        vii   29

  “Say, what is Honour?--’Tis the finest sense”                  iv  225

  Schill                                                         iv  226

  Scholars of the Village School of ----, Address to the         ii   84

  School, Composed in anticipation of leaving                     i    1

  School Exercise at Hawkshead, Written As a                   viii  211

  Schwytz                                                        vi  324

  Scottish Covenanters, Persecution of the                      vii   79

  Scott, Sir Walter, Departure of                               vii  284

  Sea-shore, Composed by the                                    vii  340

  Sea-side, Composed by the                                      ii  330

  Sea-side, By the                                              vii  338

  Seasons, Thoughts on the                                      vii  229

  Seathwaite Chapel                                              vi  249

  Seclusion (Two Sonnets)                                       vii   20

  Sellon, To Miss                                              viii  325

  September 1, 1802                                              ii  342

  September, 1815                                                vi   64

  September, 1819                                                vi  201

  Seven Sisters, The                                             ii  204

  Sexton, To a                                                   ii   95

  Sheep-washing                                                  vi  253

  Shepherd-Boys, The Idle                                        ii  138

  “She was a Phantom of delight”                                iii    1

  Simon Lee                                                       i  262

  Simplon Pass, Column lying in the                              vi  356

  Simplon Pass, Stanza’s composed in the                         vi  357

  Simplon Pass, The                                              ii   69

  Sister, To my                                                   i  270

  Skiddaw                                                        ii  238

  Sky-lark, To a                                                iii   42

  Sky-lark, To a                                                vii  143

  Sky-prospect--From the Plain of France                         vi  377

  Sleep, To (Three Sonnets)                                      iv   42

  Snow-drop, To a                                                vi  191

  Sobieski, John                                                 vi  110

  Solitary Reaper, The                                           ii  397

  Solitude (The Duddon)                                          vi  245

  Somnambulist, The                                             vii  393

  Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle                           iv   82

  Song for the Spinning Wheel                                    iv  275

  Song for the Wandering Jew                                     ii  182

  Sonnet, The                                                   vii  163

  Sonnet, June, 1820 (Fame tells of groves)                      vi  214

  Sonnet, September 1, 1802 (We had a female Passenger)          ii  342

  Sonnet, September, 1802 (Inland, within a hollow vale)         ii  343

  Sonnet, September, 1815 (While not a leaf seems faded)         vi   64

  Sonnet, October, 1803 (One might believe)                      ii  430

  Sonnet, October, 1803 (These times strike monied worldlings)   ii  432

  Sonnet, October, 1803 (When, looking on the present face
      of things)                                                 ii  433

  Sonnet, November, 1806 (Another year!)                         iv   49

  Sonnet, November, 1813 (Now that all hearts are glad)          iv  282

  Sonnet, November 1, 1815 (How clear, how keen)                 vi   63

  Sonnet, November, 1836 (Even so for me a Vision)             viii   37

  Sound of Mull, In the                                         vii  293

  Sound, The Power of                                           vii  203

  Southey, Edith May                                            vii  157

  Southey, (Inscription for monument)                          viii  157

  Spade of a Friend, To the                                      iv    2

  Spaniards (Three Sonnets)                                      iv  246

  Spanish Guerillas, The French and the                          iv  248

  Spanish Guerillas                                              iv  253

  Sparrow’s Nest, The                                            ii  236

  Spinning Wheel, Song for the                                   iv  275

  Sponsors                                                      vii   90

  Spring, Lines written in Early                                  i  268

  Staffa, Cave of (Four Sonnets)                                vii  376

  Star and the Glow-worm, The                                    vi  167

  Star-gazers                                                    iv   22

  Staubbach, On approaching the                                  vi  306

  Steamboats, Viaducts, and Railways                            vii  389

  Stepping-stones, The (Two Sonnets)                             vi  239

  Stepping Westward                                              ii  396

  Stone, F., Lines suggested by a Portrait from the Pencil
      of (Two Poems)                                           viii    1

  Storm, Composed during a                                       vi  187

  Stray Pleasures                                                iv   18

  Stream, Composed on the Banks of a Rocky                       vi  208

  Stream, On the Banks of a Rocky                              viii  188

  Stream, Tributary                                              vi  250

  Streams (The Duddon)                                           vi  255

  Streams, The unremitting voice of nightly                    viii  187

  Swan, The                                                      vi  198

  Sweden, The King of                                            ii  338

  Sweden, The King of                                            iv  227

  Switzerland, Subjugation of                                    iv   60

  Tables Turned, The                                              i  274

  Tell, Effusion in presence of the Tower of                     vi  321

  Temptations from Roman Refinements                            vii   10

  Thanksgiving after Childbirth                                 vii   95

  Thanksgiving Ode                                               vi   74

  “The leaves that rustled on this oak-crowned hill”            vii  406

  “There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear”                 ii  431

  “There is a little unpretending Rill”                          iv   53

  There was a Boy                                                ii   57

  “The Stars are mansions built by Nature’s hand”                vi  210

  “This Lawn, a carpet all alive”                               vii  228

  Thomson’s “Castle of Indolence,” Stanzas written in            ii  305

  Thorn, The                                                      i  239

  Thrasymene, Near the Lake of (Two Sonnets)                   viii   66

  Thrush, The (Two Sonnets)                                    viii   93

  Thun, Memorial near the Lake of                                vi  310

  Tillbrook, Rev. Samuel                                         vi   65

  Tilsbury Vale, The Farmer of                                   ii  147

  Tintern Abbey, Lines, composed a few miles above               ii   51

  To ---- in her seventieth year                                vii  172

  To ---- Upon the birth of her First-born Child                vii  328

  To ---- (Mrs. Wordsworth), (Two Poems)                        vii  121

  To ---- (Look at the fate of summer flowers)                  vii  124

  To ---- (Miscellaneous Sonnets--Dedication)                   vii  159

  To ---- (Miscellaneous Sonnets--Conclusion)                   vii  177

  To ---- (Wait, prithee, wait!)                               viii   32

  To ---- on her First Ascent of Helvellyn                       vi  135

  To ---- (The Haunted Tree)                                     vi  199

  Torrent at Devil’s Bridge                                     vii  129

  Tour among the Alps (1791-2), (Descriptive Sketches)            i   35

  Tour among the Alps (1791-2), (Descriptive Sketches)            i  309

  Tour in Italy (1837), Memorials of a                         viii   39

  Tour in Scotland (1803), Memorials of a                        ii  377

  Tour in Scotland (1814), Memorials of a                        vi   15

  Tour in Scotland (1831)                                       vii  278

  Tour in the Summer of 1833                                    vii  341

  Tour on the Continent (1820), Memorials of a                   vi  285

  Toussaint L’Ouverture, To                                      ii  339

  Tradition                                                      vi  253

  Tradition, American                                            vi  246

  Tradition, Fancy and                                          vii  306

  Tradition of Oker Hill                                        vii  230

  Trajan, The Pillar of                                         vii  137

  Translation of the Bible                                      vii   58

  Transubstantiation                                            vii   44

  Triad, The                                                    vii  181

  Tributary Stream                                               vi  250

  Troilus and Cresida                                            ii  264

  Trosachs, The                                                 vii  288

  Turtledove, The Poet and the Caged                            vii  265

  Twilight                                                       vi   67

  Two April Mornings, The                                        ii   89

  Two Thieves, The                                               ii   60

  Tyndrum, Suggested at                                         vii  294

  Tynwald Hill                                                  vii  366

  Tyrolese, Feelings of the                                      iv  215

  Tyrolese, On the final submission of the                       iv  217

  Tyrolese Sonnets                                               iv  213

  Ulpha, Kirk of                                                 vi  260

  Uncertainty                                                   vii    7

  Utilitarians, To the                                         viii  299

  Valedictory Sonnet (Miscellaneous Sonnets)                   viii  102

  Vallombrosa, At                                              viii   75

  Vaudois, The (Two Sonnets)                                    vii   44

  Vaudracour and Julia                                          iii   24

  Venetian Republic, On the Extinction of                        ii  336

  Venice, Scene in                                              vii   34

  Venus, To the Planet (January 1838)                          viii   92

  Venus, To the Planet (Loch Lomond)                            vii  299

  Vernal Ode                                                     vi  138

  Vienna, Siege of, raised by John Sobieski                      vi  110

  Virgin, The                                                   vii   54

  Visitation of the Sick                                        vii   96

  Waggoner, The                                                 iii   76

  Waldenses                                                     vii   46

  Wallace’s Tower                                                vi   26

  Walton, Isaac                                                  vi  190

  Walton’s Book of Lives                                        vii   77

  Wandering Jew, Song for the                                    ii  182

  Wansfell                                                     viii  153

  Warning, The                                                  vii  330

  Wars of York and Lancaster                                    vii   48

  Waterfall and the Eglantine, The                               ii  170

  Water-fowl                                                     iv  277

  Waterloo, After visiting the Field of                          vi  292

  Waterloo, Occasioned by the Battle of (Three Sonnets)          vi  111

  We are Seven                                                    i  228

  Wellington, On a Portrait of the Duke of                     viii  118

  Westall, Mr. W., Views of the Caves, etc., in Yorkshire, by
      (Three Poems)                                              vi  183

  Westminster Bridge, Composed upon                              ii  328

  Westmoreland Girl, The                                       viii  172

  “Whence that low voice?--A whisper from the heart”             vi  252

  “Where lies the truth? has Man, in wisdom’s creed”           viii  182

  “While Anna’s peers and early playmates tread”                vii  169

  Whirl-blast, The                                                i  238

  Whistlers, The Seven                                           iv   68

  White Doe of Rylstone                                          iv  100

  “Who fancied what a pretty sight?”                             ii  374

  “Why, Minstrel, these untuneful murmurings”                   vii  161

  Wicliffe                                                      vii   49

  Widow on Windermere Side, The                                viii   89

  Wild Duck’s Nest, The                                          vi  189

  Wild-Fowl                                                    viii  234

  William the Third                                             vii   80

  Winter (French Army), (Two Poems)                              vi  107

  Wishing-gate, The                                             vii  189

  Wishing-gate Destroyed, The                                   vii  192

  Worcester Cathedral, A Grave-Stone in                         vii  201

  Wordsworth, Catherine                                          vi   72

  Wordsworth, Dora                                               vi  132

  Wordsworth, John, Elegiac Verses in memory of                 iii   58

  Wordsworth, John (Fir Grove)                                  iii   66

  Wordsworth, To the Rev. Christopher                          viii  162

  Wordsworth, To the Rev. Dr. (Duddon)                           vi  227

  Wordsworth, Thomas                                           viii   39

  Wren’s Nest, A                                                vii  325

  Yarrow Unvisited                                               ii  411

  Yarrow Visited                                                 vi   35

  Yarrow Revisited                                              vii  278

  Yew-trees                                                      ii  369

  Yew-tree Seat                                                   i  108

  York and Lancaster, Wars of                                   vii   48

  Young England                                                viii  180

  Young Lady, To a                                               ii  365

  Youth, Written in very early                                    i    3

  Zaragoza                                                       iv  224



  A barking sound the Shepherd hears,                           iii   44

  A Book came forth of late, called PETER BELL;                  vi  212

  A bright-haired company of youthful slaves,                   vii   14

  Abruptly paused the strife;--the field throughout              vi  216

  A dark plume fetch me from yon blasted yew,                    vi  248

  Adieu, Rydalian Laurels! that have grown                      vii  342

  Advance--come forth from thy Tyrolean ground,                  iv  214

  Aerial Rock--whose solitary brow                               vi  188

  A famous man is Robin Hood,                                    ii  403

  Affections lose their object; Time brings forth,             viii  185

  A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by,                       iv   43

  A genial hearth, a hospitable board,                          vii   87

  A German Haggis from receipt                                 viii  272

  Age! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers,                ii  414

  Ah! if I were a lady gay                                     viii  262

  Ah, think how one compelled for life to abide,               viii  110

  A humming Bee--a little tinkling rill--                         v  106

  Ah, when the Body, round which in love we clung,              vii   19

  Ah! where is Palafox? Nor tongue nor pen                       iv  240

  Ah why deceive ourselves! by no mere fit,                    viii   86

  Aid, glorious Martyrs, from your fields of light,             vii   64

  Alas! what boots the long laborious quest                      iv  216

  “_A little onward lend thy guiding hand_”                      vi  133

  All praise the Likeness by thy skill portrayed,              viii  114

  Along the mazes of this song I go,                           viii  233

  A love-lorn Maid, at some far-distant time,                    vi  253

  Ambition--following down this far-famed slope                  vi  356

  Amid a fertile region green with wood                         vii  301

  Amid the smoke of cities did you pass                          ii  157

  Amid this dance of objects sadness steals                      vi  299

  Among a grave fraternity of Monks,                           viii    6

  Among all lovely things my Love had been,                    viii  232

  Among the dwellers in the silent fields,                     viii  310

  Among the dwellings framed by birds                           vii  325

  Among the mountains were we nursed, loved Stream!              vi  193

  Among the mountains were we nursed, loved Stream!             vii  345

  A month, sweet Little-ones, is past                            iv   63

  An age hath been when Earth was proud                          vi  146

  A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,                     ii  164

  And has the Sun his flaming chariot driven,                  viii  211

  And is it among rude untutored Dales,                          iv  222

  And is this--Yarrow?--_This_ the Stream                        vi   36

  And, not in vain embodied to the sight,                       vii   40

  “And shall,” the Pontiff asks, “profaneness flow”             vii   30

  And what is Penance with her knotted thong;                   vii   50

  And what melodious sounds at times prevail!                   vii   40

  An Orpheus! an Orpheus! yes, Faith may grow bold,              iv   20

  Another year!--another deadly blow!                            iv   49

  A pen--to register; a key--                                   vii  117

  A Pilgrim, when the summer day                                 vi  167

  A plague on your languages, German and Norse!                  ii   73

  A pleasant music floats along the Mere,                       vii   27

  _A Poet!_--He hath put his heart to school,                  viii  128

  A point of life between my Parents’ dust,                     vii  346

  Arms and the Man I sing, the first who bore                  viii  281

  Army of Clouds! ye wingèd Host in troops,                    viii  142

  A Rock there is whose homely front                            vii  274

  A Roman Master stands on Grecian ground,                       iv  242

  Around a wild and woody hill                                   vi  310

  Arran! a single-crested Teneriffe,                            vii  370

  Art thou a Statist in the van                                  ii   75

  Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,                         ii  295

  As faith thus sanctified the warrior’s crest                  vii   42

  A simple Child,                                                 i  231

  As indignation mastered grief, my tongue,                    viii   85

  As leaves are to the tree whereon they grow,                 viii   87

  A slumber did my spirit seal;                                  ii   83

  As often as I murmur here                                     vii  265

  As star that shines dependent upon star                       vii   87

  “As the cold aspect of a sunless way”                          vi  191

  A Stream, to mingle with your favourite Dee,                  vii  129

  A sudden conflict rises from the swell                        vii   82

  As, when a storm hath ceased, the birds regain                vii    9

  As with the Stream our voyage we pursue,                      vii   33

  At early dawn, or rather when the air                          vi  185

  A Traveller on the skirt of Sarum’s Plain                       i   79

  A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain,                    vii  284

  At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,            i  226

  A twofold harmony is here                                    viii  282

  Avaunt all specious pliancy of mind                            iv  247

  Avaunt this œconomic rage!                                   viii  299

  A voice, from long-expecting thousands sent                   vii   79

  A volant Tribe of Bards on earth are found,                   vii  119

  Avon--a precious, an immortal name!                           vii  303

  A weight of awe, not easy to be borne,                        vii  390

  A whirl-blast from behind the hill                              i  238

  A wingèd Goddess--clothed in vesture wrought                   vi  292

  A Youth too certain of his power to wade                      vii  362

  Bard of the Fleece, whose skilful genius made                  iv  273

  Beaumont! it was thy wish that I should rear                  iii   23

  Before I see another day,                                       i  276

  Before the world had past her time of youth,                 viii  107

  “Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf,”                          ii  170

  Beguiled into forgetfulness of care,                         viii    2

  Behold an emblem of our human mind,                          viii  188

  Behold a pupil of the monkish gown,                           vii   24

  Behold her, single in the field,                               ii  397

  Behold, within the leafy shade,                                ii  237

  “Beloved Vale!” I said, “when I shall con”                     iv   35

  Beneath the concave of an April sky,                           vi  138

  Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed                      ii  367

  Beneath yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound,                   iv   80

  Be this the chosen site; the virgin sod,                      vii  103

  Between two sister moorland rills                              ii   96

  Bishops and Priests, blessed are ye, if deep                  vii   86

  Black Demons hovering o’er his mitred head,                   vii   34

  Bleak season was it, turbulent and bleak,                      ii  121

  Blest is this Isle--our native Land;                          vii  109

  Blest Statesman He, whose Mind’s unselfish will,             viii  101

  Bold words affirmed, in days when faith was strong            vii  359

  Brave Schill! by death delivered, take thy flight              iv  226

  Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere,                       ii  360

  Bright was the summer’s noon when quickening steps            iii  186

  Broken in fortune, but in mind entire                         vii  365

  Brook and road                                                 ii   69

  Brook, that hast been my solace days and weeks,              viii  265

  Brook! whose society the Poet seeks,                           iv   52

  Brugès I saw attired with golden light                         vi  288

  But Cytherea, studious to invent,                            viii  277

  But here no cannon thunders to the gale;                       vi  262

  But liberty, and triumphs on the Main,                        vii  102

  But, to outweigh all harm, the sacred Book,                   vii   58

  But, to remote Northumbria’s royal Hall,                      vii   15

  But what if One, through grove or flowery mead,               vii   21

  But whence came they who for the Saviour Lord                 vii   44

  By a blest Husband guided, Mary came,                        viii   35

  By antique Fancy trimmed--though lowly, bred                   vi  324

  By Art’s bold privilege Warrior and War-Horse stand,         viii  118

  By chain yet stronger must the Soul be tied:                  vii   93

  By playful smiles, (alas, too oft,                           viii  120

  By such examples moved to unbought pains,                     vii   22

  By their floating mill,                                        iv   18

  By vain affections unenthralled,                              vii  135

  Call not the royal Swede unfortunate,                          iv  227

  Calm as an under-current, strong to draw,                     vii   80

  Calm is all nature as a resting wheel                           i    4

  Calm is the fragrant air, and loth to lose                    vii  317

  Calvert! it must not be unheard by them                        iv   44

  “Change me, some God, into that breathing rose!”               vi  237

  Chatsworth! thy stately mansion, and the pride                vii  273

  Child of loud-throated War! the mountain Stream                ii  401

  Child of the clouds! remote from every taint                   vi  231

  Clarkson! it was an obstinate hill to climb:                   iv   62

  Closing the sacred Book which long has fed                    vii   98

  Clouds, lingering yet, extend in solid bars                    iv   73

  Coldly we spake. The Saxons, overpowered                      vii   29

  Come, gentle Sleep, Death’s image tho’ thou art,             viii  264

  Come ye--who, if (which Heaven avert!) the Land                ii  437

  Companion! by whose buoyant Spirit cheered,                  viii   41

  Complacent Fictions were they, yet the same,                 viii   61

  Confiding hopes of youthful hearts,                          viii  297

  Critics, right honourable Bard, decree                       viii  272

  Dark and more dark the shades of evening fell;                 ii  349

  Darkness surrounds us: seeking, we are lost                   vii    7

  Days passed--and Monte Calvo would not clear,                viii   64

  Days undefiled by luxury or sloth,                           viii  179

  Dear be the Church, that, watching o’er the needs             vii   89

  Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!                           ii  366

  Dear Fellow-travellers! think not that the Muse,               vi  285

  Dear native regions, I foretell,                                i    2

  Dear Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould                      vi  114

  Dear to the Loves, and to the Graces vowed,                   vii  350

  Deep is the lamentation! Not alone                            vii   56

  Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy Lord!                     ii  410

  Deign, Sovereign Mistress, to accept a lay,                  viii  319

  Departed Child! I could forget thee once                       iv  249

  Departing summer hath assumed                                  vi  202

  Deplorable his lot who tills the ground,                      vii   38

  Desire we past illusions to recal?                           vvii  360

  Desponding Father! mark this altered bough                   viii   31

  Despond who will--_I_ heard a voice exclaim,                  vii  368

  Destined to war from very infancy                              iv  234

  Did pangs of grief for lenient time too keen,                 vii  363

  Discourse was deemed Man’s noblest attribute,                viii  184

  Dishonoured Rock and Ruin! that, by law,                      vii  292

  Dogmatic Teachers, of the snow-white fur!                      vi  208

  Doomed as we are our native dust                               vi  312

  Doubling and doubling with laborious walk,                    vii  295

  Down a swift Stream, thus far, a bold design                  vii   83

  Dread hour! when, upheaved by war’s sulphurous blast,          vi  329

  Driven in by Autumn’s sharpening air                          vii  410

  Earth has not any thing to show more fair:                     ii  328

  Eden! till now thy beauty had I viewed                        vii  385

  Emperors and Kings, how oft have temples rung                  vi  113

  England! the time is come when thou should’st wean             ii  433

  Enlightened Teacher, gladly from thy hand                    viii  162

  Enough! for see, with dim association                         vii   44

  Enough of climbing toil!--Ambition treads                      vi  149

  Enough of garlands, of the Arcadian crook,                    vii  294

  Enough of rose-bud lips, and eyes                             vii  239

  Ere the Brothers through the gateway                           iv   12

  Erewhile to celebrate this glorious morn                       vi  195

  Ere with cold beads of midnight dew                           vii  145

  Ere yet our course was graced with social trees                vi  235

  Eternal Lord! eased of a cumbrous load,                      viii   81

  Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!                        vii  143

  Even as a dragon’s eye that feels the stress                   vi   69

  Even as a river,--partly (it might seem)                      iii  293

  Even so for me a Vision sanctified                           viii   37

  Even such the contrast that, where’er we move,                vii   71

  Even while I speak, the sacred roofs of France                vii  101

  Excuse is needless when with love sincere                     vii  162

  Failing impartial measure to dispense                        viii   99

  Fair Ellen Irwin, when she sate                                ii  124

  Fair is the Swan, whose majesty, prevailing                    vi  116

  Fair Lady! can I sing of flowers                             viii  177

  Fair Land! Thee all men greet with joy; bow few,             viii   84

  Fair Prime of life! were it enough to gild                    vii  165

  Fair Star of evening, Splendour of the west,                   ii  330

  Fallen, and diffused into a shapeless heap,                    vi  256

  Fame tells of groves--from England far away--                  vi  214

  Fancy, who leads the pastimes of the glad,                    vii  178

  “Farewell, deep Valley, with thy one rude House,”               v  196

  Farewell, thou little Nook of mountain-ground,                 ii  324

  Far from my dearest Friend, ’tis mine to rove                   i    6

  Far from our home by Grasmere’s quiet Lake,                    iv  259

  Father! to God himself we cannot give                         vii   90

  Fear hath a hundred eyes that all agree                       vii   69

  Feel for the wrongs to universal ken                         viii  129

  Festivals have I seen that were not names:                     ii  334

  Fit retribution, by the moral code                           viii  108

  Five years have past; five summers, with the length            ii   51

  Flattered with promise of escape                              vii  229

  Fly, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale!                    ii  419

  Fond words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep!                iv   43

  For action born, existing to be tried,                       viii   67

  Forbear to deem the Chronicler unwise,                       viii   61

  For ever hallowed be this morning fair,                       vii   15

  For gentlest uses, oft-times Nature takes                      vi  316

  Forgive, illustrious Country! these deep sighs,              viii   65

  Forth from a jutting ridge, around whose base                viii  170

  For thirst of power that Heaven disowns,                     viii  320

  Forth rushed from Envy sprung and Self-conceit,              viii  304

  For what contend the wise?--for nothing less                  vii   58

  Four fiery steeds impatient of the rein                      viii   32

  From Bolton’s old monastic tower                               iv  106

  From early youth I ploughed the restless Main,                vii  364

  From false assumption rose, and fondly hail’d                 vii   36

  From Little down to Least, in due degree,                     vii   91

  From low to high doth dissolution climb,                      vii  100

  From Nature doth emotion come, and moods                      iii  355

  From Rite and Ordinance abused they fled                      vii   85

  From Stirling castle we had seen                               ii  411

  From that time forth, Authority in France                     iii  330

  From the Baptismal hour, thro’ weal and woe,                  vii   97

  From the dark chambers of dejection freed,                     vi   34

  From the fierce aspect of this River, throwing                 vi  308

  From the Pier’s head, musing, and with increase                vi  381

  From this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play            vi  245

  Frowns are on every Muse’s face,                              vii  157

  Furl we the sails, and pass with tardy oars                   vii   41

  Genius of Raphael! if thy wings                               vii  195

  Giordano, verily thy Pencil’s skill                          viii  183

  Glad sight wherever new with old                             viii  154

  Glide gently, thus for ever glide,                              i   33

  Glory to God! and to the Power who came                       vii  107

  Go back to antique ages, if thine eyes                        vii  174

  Go, faithful Portrait! and where long hath knelt              vii  318

  Grant, that by this unsparing hurricane                       vii   57

  Grateful is Sleep, my life, in stone bound fast,             viii  264

  Great men have been among us; hands that penned                ii  346

  Greta, what fearful listening! when huge stones               vii  344

  Grief, thou hast lost an ever-ready friend                     vi  196

  Grieve for the Man who hither came bereft,                   viii   72

  Had this effulgence disappeared                                vi  177

  Hail, orient Conqueror of gloomy Night!                        vi   78

  Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped--to gird                    v  235

  Hail to the fields--with Dwellings sprinkled o’er              vi  243

  Hail, Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour!                vi   67

  Hail, Virgin Queen! o’er many an envious bar                  vii   65

  Hail, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye                              iv  224

  Happy the feeling from the bosom thrown                       vii  159

  Hard task! exclaim the undisciplined, to lean                viii   86

  Hark! ’tis the Thrush, undaunted, undeprest,                 viii   93

  Harmonious Powers with Nature work                           viii  125

  Harp! could’st thou venture, on thy boldest string            vii   72

  Hast thou seen, with flash incessant,                          vi  174

  Hast thou then survived--                                     iii   14

  Haydon! let worthier judges praise the skill                  vii  277

  Here closed the Tenant of that lonely vale                      v  145

  _Here Man more purely lives, less oft doth fall_,             vii   37

  Here, on our native soil, we breathe once more                 ii  341

  Here on their knees men swore; the stones were black,         vii  381

  Here pause: the poet claims at least this praise,              iv  255

  Here stood an Oak, that long had borne affixed                vii  305

  Here, where, of havoc tired and rash undoing,                viii  168

  Her eyes are wild, her head is bare,                            i  258

  Her only pilot the soft breeze, the boat                      vii  160

  “High bliss is only for a higher state,”                      vii  156

  High deeds, O Germans, are to come from you!                   iv   59

  High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,                 iv   83

  High is our calling, Friend!--Creative Art                     vi   61

  High on a broad unfertile tract of forest-skirted Down,      viii  133

  High on her speculative tower                                  vi  345

  His simple truths did Andrew glean                             ii  174

  Holy and heavenly Spirits as they are,                        vii   67

  Homeward we turn. Isle of Columba’s Cell,                     vii  382

  Hope rules a land for ever green:                             vii  190

  Hope smiled when your nativity was cast,                      vii  378

  Hopes, what are they?--Beads of morning                        vi  170

  How art thou named? In search of what strange land,           vii  129

  How beautiful the Queen of Night, on high                    viii  188

  How beautiful, when up a lofty height                        viii   90

  How beautiful your presence, how benign,                      vii   19

  How blest the Maid whose heart--yet free                       vi  351

  How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright                   vi   63

  “How disappeared he?” Ask the newt and toad;                  vii  297

  How fast the Marian death-list is unrolled!                   vii   61

  How profitless the relics that we cull,                       vii  308

  How richly glows the water’s breast                             i   32

  How rich that forehead’s calm expanse!                        vii  123

  How sad a welcome! To each voyager                            vii  380

  How shall I paint thee?--Be this naked stone,                  vi  232

  How soon--alas! did Man, created pure--                       vii   35

  How sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks                       iv   36

  Humanity, delighting to behold                                 vi  107

  Hunger, and sultry heat, and nipping blast                     iv  248

  I am not One who much or oft delight                           iv   31

  I come, ye little noisy Crew,                                  ii   84

  I dropped my pen; and listened to the Wind                     iv  211

  I find it written of Simonides,                              viii  258

  If from the public way you turn your steps                     ii  215

  If Life were slumber on a bed of down,                        vii  351

  If money’s slack,                                            viii  271

  If Nature, for a favourite child,                              ii   88

  If there be prophets on whose spirits rest                    vii    5

  If these brief Records, by the Muses’ art                     vii  177

  If the whole weight of what we think and feel,                vii  165

  If this great world of joy and pain                           vii  336

  If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven,                  vii  175

  If thou in the dear love of some one Friend                    ii  210

  If to Tradition faith be due                                  vii  311

  If with old love of you, dear Hills! I share                 viii   95

  I grieved for Buonaparté, with a vain                          ii  323

  I hate that Andrew Jones; he’ll breed                        viii  221

  I have a boy of five years old;                                 i  234

  I heard (alas! ’twas only in a dream)                          vi  198

  I heard a thousand blended notes,                               i  269

  I know an aged Man constrained to dwell                      viii  186

  I listen--but no faculty of mine,                              vi  326

  Imagination--ne’er before content,                             vi   88

  I marvel how Nature could ever find space                      ii  208

  I met Louisa in the shade,                                     ii  362

  Immured in Bothwell’s Towers, at times the Brave              vii  299

  In Brugès town is many a street                               vii  198

  In days of yore how fortunately fared                           v   67

  In desultory walk through orchard grounds,                   viii  123

  In distant countries have I been,                               i  279

  In due observance of an ancient rite,                          iv  241

  Inland, within a hollow vale, I stood;                         ii  343

  Inmate of a mountain-dwelling,                                 vi  135

  In my mind’s eye a Temple, like a cloud                       vii  173

  In one of those excursions (may they ne’er                    iii  367

  Intent on gathering wool from hedge and brake                viii  122

  In these fair vales hath many a Tree                          vii  269

  In the sweet shire of Cardigan,                                 i  262

  In this still place, remote from men,                          ii  393

  In trellised shed with clustering roses gay,                   iv  102

  Intrepid sons of Albion! not by you                            vi  111

  In youth from rock to rock I went,                             ii  353

  I rose while yet the cattle, heat-opprest,                     vi  257

  I saw a Mother’s eye intensely bent                           vii   92

  I saw an aged Beggar in my walk;                                i  300

  I saw far off the dark top of a Pine,                        viii   58

  I saw the figure of a lovely Maid                             vii   74

  Is _Death_, when evil against good has fought,               viii  106

  I shiver, Spirit fierce and bold,                              ii  379

  Is it a reed that’s shaken by the wind,                        ii  331

  Is then no nook of English ground secure,                    viii  166

  Is then the final page before me spread,                       vi  382

  Is there a power that can sustain and cheer                    iv  228

  Is this, ye Gods, the Capitolian Hill,                       viii   59

  _I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide_,                  vi  263

  It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,                      ii  335

  It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown,                    ii  376

  It is not to be thought of that the Flood                      ii  347

  It is the first mild day of March:                              i  271

  I travelled among unknown men,                                 ii   80

  It seems a day                                                 ii   70

  It was a beautiful and silent day                             iii  311

  It was a dreary morning when the wheels                       iii  168

  It was a _moral_ end for which they fought;                    iv  217

  It was an April morning: fresh and clear                       ii  154

  I’ve watched you now a full half-hour,                         ii  297

  I wandered lonely as a cloud                                  iii    4

  I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!                   iii   54

  I watch, and long have watched, with calm regret               vi  197

  I, who accompanied with faithful pace                         vii    4

  I, whose pretty Voice you hear,                              viii  295

  I will relate a tale for those who love                      viii  224

  Jesu! bless our slender Boat,                                  vi  301

  Jones! I as from Calais southward you and I                    ii  332

  Just as those final words were penned, the sun broke out
      in power,                                                viii  135

  Keep for the Young the Impassioned smile                       vi  218

  Lady! a Pen (perhaps with thy regard,                        viii    8

  Lady! I rifled a Parnassian cave                               vi  211

  Lady! the songs of Spring were in the grove                    iv   58

  Lament! for Diocletian’s fiery sword                          vii    8

  Lance, shield, and sword relinquished--at his side            vii   20

  Last night, without a voice, that Vision spake                vii   74

  Let other bards of angels sing,                               vii  121

  Let thy wheel-barrow alone                                     ii   95

  Let us quit the leafy arbour,                                  vi  153

  Lie here, without a record of thy worth,                      iii   50

  Life with yon Lambs, like day, is just begun,                viii   97

  Like a shipwreck’d Sailor tost                                vii  328

  List, the winds of March are blowing;                         vii  331

  List--’twas the Cuckoo.--O with what delight,                viii   68

  List, ye who pass by Lyulph’s Tower                           vii  394

  Lo! in the burning west, the craggy nape                       vi  377

  Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they            vi  191

  Long-favoured England! be not thou misled,                   viii  131

  Long has the dew been dried on tree and lawn,                viii   63

  Long time have human ignorance and guilt                      iii  345

  Lonsdale! it were unworthy of a Guest,                        vii  392

  Look at the fate of summer flowers,                           vii  124

  Look now on that Adventurer who hath paid                      iv  228

  Lord of the vale! astounding Flood;                            vi   26

  Loud is the Vale! the Voice is up                              iv   47

  Loving she is, and tractable, though wild;                     iv  252

  Lo! where she stands fixed in a saint-like trance,           viii  132

  Lo! where the Moon along the sky,                            viii   88

  Lowther! in thy majestic Pile are seen                        vii  392

  Lulled by the sound of pastoral bells,                         vi  372

  Lyre! though such power do in thy magic live,                viii  147

  “Man’s life is like a Sparrow, mighty King!”                  vii   16

  Mark how the feathered tenants of the flood,                   iv  278

  Mark the concentred hazels that enclose                        vi   71

  Meek Virgin Mother, more benign                                vi  318

  Men of the Western World! in Fate’s dark book,               viii  112

  Men, who have ceased to reverence, soon defy                  vii   68

  Mercy and Love have met thee on thy road,                     vii    7

  Methinks that I could trip o’er heaviest soil,                vii   66

  Methinks that to some vacant hermitage                        vii   21

  Methinks ’twere no unprecedented feat                          vi  255

  Methought I saw the footsteps of a throne                      iv   46

  ’Mid crowded obelisks and urns                                 ii  387

  Mid-noon is past;--upon the sultry mead                        vi  254

  Milton! thou should’st be living at this hour:                 ii  346

  Mine ear has wrung, my spirit sunk subdued,                   vii  104

  “_Miserrimus!_” and neither name nor date,                    vii  201

  Monastic Domes! following my downward way,                    vii  100

  Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes                         vii  401

  Mother! whose virgin bosom was uncrost,                       vii   54

  Motions and Means, on land and sea at war,                    vii  389

  My frame hath often trembled with delight                      vi  250

  My heart leaps up when I behold                                ii  292

  My Lord and Lady Darlington                                  viii  298

  My Son! behold the tide already spent,                       viii  273

  Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew-tree stands               i  109

  Near Anio’s stream, I spied a gentle Dove,                   viii   65

  Never enlivened with the liveliest ray,                      viii  150

  Next morning Troilus began to clear                            ii  264

  No fiction was it of the antique age:                          vi  241

  No more: the end is sudden and abrupt,                        vii  309

  No mortal object did these eyes behold                        iii  381

  No record tells of lance opposed to lance,                     vi  258

  Nor scorn the aid which Fancy oft doth lend                   vii   18

  Nor shall the eternal roll of praise reject                   vii   78

  Nor wants the cause the panic-striking aid                    vii   12

  Not a breath of air,                                         viii  146

  Not envying Latian shades--if yet they throw                   vi  230

  Not hurled precipitous from steep to steep;                    vi  261

  Not in the lucid intervals of life                            vii  402

  Not in the mines beyond the western main,                     vii  400

  Not, like his great Compeers, indignantly                      vi  303

  Not Love, not War, nor the tumultuous swell                   vii  118

  Not ’mid the World’s vain objects that enslave                 iv  210

  Not sedentary all: there are who roam                         vii   23

  Not seldom, clad in radiant vest,                              vi  175

  Not so that Pair whose youthful spirits dance                  vi  240

  Not the whole warbling grove in concert heard                 vii  169

  Not to the clouds, not to the cliff, he flew;                 vii  372

  Not to the object specially designed,                        viii  106

  Not utterly unworthy to endure                                vii   55

  Not without heavy grief of heart did He                        iv  236

  No whimsey of the purse is here,                             viii  259

  Now that all hearts are glad, all faces bright,                iv  282

  Now that the farewell tear is dried,                           vi  338

  Now we are tired of boisterous joy,                            ii  420

  Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,                 viii  116

  Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room;                  iv   28

  Oak of Guernica! Tree of holier power                          iv  245

  O blithe New-comer! I have heard,                              ii  289

  O dearer far than light and life are dear,                    vii  122

  O’er the wide earth, on mountain and on plain,                 iv  223

  O’erweening Statesmen have full long relied                    iv  247

  O Flower of all that springs from gentle blood,                iv  235

  Of mortal parents is the Hero born                             iv  214

  O for a dirge! But why complain?                              vii  132

  O, for a kindling touch from that pure flame,                  vi  110

  O for the help of Angels to complete                           vi  297

  O Friend! I know not which way I must look                     ii  345

  Oft have I caught, upon a fitful breeze,                      vii  373

  Oft have I seen, ere Time had ploughed my cheek,              vii  163

  Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:                                  ii   99

  Oft is the medal faithful to its trust                         iv   77

  Oft, through thy fair domains, illustrious Peer!                v   20

  O gentle Sleep! do they belong to thee,                        iv   42

  O happy time of youthful lovers (thus                         iii   24

  Oh Bounty without measure, while the Grace                   viii  308

  Oh Life! without thy chequered scene                           vi  315

  Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!                        iii   35

  Oh what a Wreck! how changed in mien and speech,             viii   36

  Oh! what’s the matter? what’s the matter?                       i  254

  “O Lord, our Lord! how wondrously,” (quoth she)                ii  240

  O Moon! if e’er I joyed when thy soft light                  viii  235

  O mountain Stream! the Shepherd and his Cot                    vi  245

  Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee;                    ii  336

  Once I could hail (howe’er serene the sky)                    vii  152

  Once in a lonely hamlet I sojourned                            ii  285

  Once more the Church is seized with sudden fear,              vii   49

  Once on the top of Tynwald’s formal mound                     vii  366

  Once to the verge of yon steep barrier came                  viii  236

  One might believe that natural miseries                        ii  431

  One morning (raw it was and wet--                              ii  270

  One who was suffering tumult in his soul                       vi  187

  On his morning rounds the Master                              iii   48

  O Nightingale! thou surely art                                 iv   67

  On, loitering Muse--the swift Stream chides us--on!            vi  242

  “On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life,”                         v   23

  On Nature’s invitation do I come,                              ii  118

  O now that the genius of Bewick were mine,                     ii   60

  On to Iona!--What can she afford                              vii  379

  Open your gates, ye everlasting Piles!                        vii  105

  O there is blessing in this gentle breeze,                    iii  132

  O thou who movest onward with a mind                           iv  231

  O thou! whose fancies from afar are brought;                   ii  351

  Our bodily life, some plead, that life the shrine,           viii  109

  Our walk was far among the ancient trees:                      ii  167

  Outstretching flame-ward his upbraided hand                   vii   62

  Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies,                            ii  301

  Part fenced by man, part by a rugged steep                    vii  286

  Pastor and Patriot!--at whose bidding rise                    vii  349

  Patriots informed with Apostolic light                        vii   85

  Pause, courteous Spirit!--Balbi supplicates                    iv  237

  Pause, Traveller! whosoe’er thou be                            vi  173

  Peaceful our valley, fair and green;                         viii  259

  Pelion and Ossa flourish side by side,                         ii  238

  “People! your chains are severing link by link;”              vii  290

  Perhaps some needful service of the State                      iv  230

  Pleasures newly found are sweet                                ii  303

  Portentous change when History can appear,                   viii  130

  Praised be the Art whose subtle power could stay               iv  272

  Praised be the Rivers, from their mountain springs            vii   45

  Prejudged by foes determined not to spare,                    vii   71

  Presentiments! they judge not right                           vii  266

  Prompt transformation works the novel Lore;                   vii   17

  Proud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old,             viii  167

  Pure element of waters! wheresoe’er                            vi  184

  Queen of the Stars!--so gentle, so benign,                   viii   15

  Ranging the heights of Scawfell or Black-Comb,                vii  358

  Rapt above earth by power of one fair face,                  viii   81

  Realms quake by turns: proud Arbitress of grace,              vii   32

  Record we too, with just and faithful pen,                    vii   39

  Redoubted King, of courage leonine,                           vii   31

  Reluctant call it was; the rite delayed;                      vii  323

  “Rest, rest, perturbèd Earth!”                                 vi   95

  Return, Content! for fondly I pursued,                         vi  255

  Rid of a vexing and a heavy load,                            viii  265

  Rise!--they _have_ risen: of brave Aneurin ask                vii   11

  Rotha, my Spiritual Child! this head was grey                 vii  171

  Rude is this Edifice, and Thou hast seen                       ii  213

  Sacred Religion! “mother of form and fear,”                    vi  249

  Sad thoughts, avaunt!--partake we their blithe cheer           vi  253

  Said red-ribboned Evans:                                     viii  302

  Said Secrecy to Cowardice and Fraud,                         viii  304

  Say, what is Honour?--’Tis the finest sense                    iv  225

  Say, ye far-travelled clouds, far-seeing hills--              vii  287

  Scattering, like birds escaped the fowler’s net,              vii   64

  Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned,               vii  163

  Screams round the Arch-druid’s brow the seamew--white         vii    6

  Seek who will delight in fable,                              viii  172

  See the Condemned alone within his cell,                     viii  110

  See what gay wild flowers deck this earth-built Cot,          vii  296

  See, where his difficult way that Old Man wins,              viii   83

  Serene, and fitted to embrace,                                 vi  117

  Serving no haughty Muse, my hands have here,                 viii  102

  Seven Daughters had Lord Archibald,                            ii  204

  Shade of Caractacus, if spirits love,                        viii  309

  Shall he who gives his days to low pursuits                  viii  257

  Shame on this faithless heart! that could allow                vi  214

  She dwelt among the untrodden ways                             ii   79

  She had a tall man’s height or more;                           ii  278

  She was a Phantom of delight                                  iii    2

  She wept.--Life’s purple tide began to flow                  viii  209

  Shout, for a mighty Victory is won!                            ii  436

  Show me the noblest Youth of present time,                    vii  181

  Shun not this rite, neglected, yea abhorred,                  vii   96

  Since risen from ocean, ocean to defy,                        vii  369

  Six changeful years have vanished since I first               iii  247

  Six months to six years added he remained,                   viii   39

  Six thousand veterans practised in war’s game,                 ii  435

  Small service is true service while it lasts,                viii    8

  Smile of the Moon!--for so I name                              vi  163

  So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,                      viii  164

  Soft as a cloud is yon blue Ridge--the Mere                   vii  405

  Sole listener, Duddon! to the breeze that played               vi  234

  Son of my buried Son, while thus thy hand,                   viii  305

  Soon did the Almighty Giver of all rest                        iv  267

  Spade! with which Wilkinson hath tilled his lands,             iv    3

  Stay, bold Adventurer; rest awhile thy limbs                   iv  281

  Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay,                           viii   38

  Stay near me--do not take thy flight!                          ii  283

  Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!                           iii   38

  Strange fits of passion have I known:                          ii   78

  Stranger! this hillock of mis-shapen stones                    ii   63

  Stretched on the dying Mother’s lap, lies dead                vii  387

  Such age how beautiful! O Lady bright,                        vii  172

  Such fruitless questions may not long beguile                  vi  246

  Surprised by joy--impatient as the Wind                        vi   72

  Sweet Flower, belike one day to have                          iii   51

  Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower                             ii  390

  “Sweet is the holiness of Youth”--so felt                     vii   59

  Sweet was the walk along the narrow lane,                    viii  215

  Swiftly turn the murmuring wheel!                              iv  275

  Sylph was it? or a Bird more bright                           vii  319

  Take, cradled Nursling of the mountain, take                   vi  233

  Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,                    vii  106

  Tell me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold,                             vii  125

  Tenderly do we feel by Nature’s law,                         viii  104

  Thanks for the lessons of this Spot--fit school               vii  377

  That happy gleam of vernal eyes,                              vii  202

  That heresies should strike (if truth be scanned              vii   10

  That is work of waste and ruin--                               ii  298

  That way look, my Infant, lo!                                 iii   16

  The Baptist might have been ordained to cry,                 viii   80

  The Bard--whose soul is meek as dawning day,                   vi  112

  The captive Bird was gone;--to cliff or moor                  vii  371

  The cattle crowding round this beverage clear                 vii  348

  The Cock is crowing,                                           ii  293

  The confidence of Youth our only Art,                        viii  273

  The Crescent-moon, the Star of Love,                         viii  127

  The Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair,                      vi  130

  The days are cold, the nights are long,                       iii   74

  The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;            ii  143

  The doubt to which a wavering hope had clung                 viii  289

  The embowering rose, the acacia, and the pine,                 iv   74

  The encircling ground, in native turf arrayed,                vii  104

  The fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade;                    vi   66

  The feudal Keep, the bastions of Cohorn,                      vii  360

  The fields which with covetous spirit we sold,                iii   12

  The floods are roused, and will not soon be weary;            vii  388

  The forest huge of ancient Caledon                            vii  304

  The formal World relaxes her cold chain,                     viii  112

  The gallant Youth, who may have gained,                       vii  281

  The gentlest Poet, with free thoughts endowed,               viii  141

  The gentlest Shade that walked Elysian plains                  ii  378

  The glory of evening was spread through the west;            viii  217

  The God of Love--_ah, benedicite!_                             ii  250

  The imperial Consort of the Fairy-king                         vi  189

  The imperial Stature, the colossal stride,                    vii  166

  The Kirk of Ulpha to the pilgrim’s eye                         vi  260

  The Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor                   ii  129

  The Lake is thine,                                           viii  263

  The Land we from our fathers had in trust,                     iv  215

  The leaves that rustled on this oak-crowned hill,             vii  407

  The leaves were fading when to Esthwaite’s banks              iii  222

  The linnet’s warble, sinking towards a close,                 vii  403

  The little hedgerow birds,                                      i  307

  The lovely Nun (submissive, but more meek                     vii   52

  The Lovers took within this ancient grove                     vii  306

  The martial courage of a day is vain,                          iv  217

  The massy Ways, carried across these heights                  vii  154

  The Minstrels played their Christmas tune                      vi  227

  The most alluring clouds that mount the sky,                 viii  128

  The old inventive Poets, had they seen,                        vi  251

  _The oppression of the tumult--wrath and scorn--_             vii   13

  The order’d troops                                           viii  234

  The peace which others seek they find;                        iii   11

  The pensive Sceptic of the lonely vale                          v  327

  The pibroch’s note, discountenanced or mute;                  vii  290

  The post-boy drove with fierce career,                         ii  273

  The power of Armies is a visible thing,                        iv  254

  The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed                  iii  382

  The rains at length have ceas’d, the winds are still’d,      viii  233

  There are no colours in the fairest sky                       vii   77

  There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear                   ii  431

  There is a change--and I am poor;                              iv   17

  There is a Flower, the lesser Celandine,                      iii   21

  There is a little unpretending Rill                            iv   53

  There is an Eminence,--of these our hills                      ii  162

  _There is a pleasure in poetic pains_                         vii  166

  There is a shapeless crowd of unhewn stones                  viii  223

  There is a Thorn--it looks so old,                              i  242

  There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,                     ii  370

  There never breathed a man who, when his life                  iv  232

  “There!” said a Stripling, pointing with meet pride           vii  384

  There’s George Fisher, Charles Fleming, and Reginald Shore,    ii  207

  There’s more in words than I can teach:                       vii  321

  There’s not a nook within this solemn Pass,                   vii  289

  There’s something in a flying horse,                           ii    3

  There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs                   ii   57

  There was a roaring in the wind all night;                     ii  314

  There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,             viii  190

  The Roman Consul doomed his sons to die,                     viii  105

  The Sabbath bells renew the inviting peal;                    vii   96

  The saintly Youth has ceased to rule, discrowned              vii   61

  The Scottish Broom on Bird-nest brae                         viii  270

  These times strike monied worldlings with dismay:              ii  432

  These Tourists, heaven preserve us! needs must live            ii  184

  These vales were saddened with no common gloom               viii  275

  The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!                          iii   58

  The Shepherd, looking eastward, softly said,                   vi   68

  The sky is overcast                                             i  227

  The snow-tracks of my friends I see,                         viii  219

  The soaring lark is blest as proud                            vii  214

  The Spirit of Antiquity--enshrined                             vi  290

  The stars are mansions built by Nature’s hand,                 vi  210

  The star which comes at close of day to shine,               viii  307

  The struggling Rill insensibly is grown                        vi  239

  The sun has long been set,                                     ii  327

  The sun is couched, the sea-fowl gone to rest;                vii  338

  The Sun, that seemed so mildly to retire,                     vii  337

  The sylvan slopes with corn-clad fields                        vi  201

  The tears of man in various measure gush                      vii   60

  The Troop will be impatient; let us hie                         i  114

  The turbaned Race are poured in thickening swarms             vii   31

  The unremitting voice of nightly streams,                    viii  187

  The valley rings with mirth and joy;                           ii  138

  The vestal priestess of a sisterhood who knows               viii  325

  The Vested Priest before the Altar stands;                    vii   94

  The Virgin Mountain, wearing like a Queen                     vii   70

  The Voice of song from distant lands shall call                ii  338

  The wind is now thy organist;--a clank                        vii  288

  The woman-hearted Confessor prepares                          vii   28

  The world forsaken, all its busy cares,                      viii   73

  The world is too much with us; late and soon,                  iv   39

  The worship of this Sabbath morn,                            viii  326

  They called Thee MERRY ENGLAND, in old time;                  vii  343

  They call it Love lies bleeding! rather say,                 viii  150

  They dreamt not of a perishable home                          vii  107

  The Young-ones gathered in from hill and dale,                vii   92

  They seek, are sought; to daily battle led,                    iv  253

  They--who have seen the noble Roman’s scorn,                 viii   62

  This Height a ministering Angel might select:                  iv  271

  “This Land of Rainbows spanning glens whose walls,”           vii  299

  This Lawn, a carpet all alive                                 vii  228

  This Spot--at once unfolding sight so fair,                  viii  103

  Those breathing Tokens of your kind regard,                   vii  217

  Those had given earliest notice, as the lark                  vii   46

  Those old credulities, to nature dear,                       viii   60

  Those silver clouds collected round the sun                    vi  199

  Those words were uttered as in pensive mood                    iv   37

  Though I beheld at first with blank surprise                 viii  115

  Though joy attend Thee orient at the birth                    vii  299

  Though many suns have risen and set                           vii  148

  Though narrow be that old Man’s cares, and near,               iv   69

  Tho’ searching damps and many an envious flaw                  vi  343

  Though the bold wings of Poesy affect                        viii  154

  Though the torrents from their fountains                       ii  182

  Though to give timely warning and deter                      viii  109

  “Thou look’st upon me, and dost fondly think,”                vii  347

  Thou sacred Pile! whose turrets rise                           vi  333

  Threats come which no submission may assuage,                 vii   52

  Three years she grew in sun and shower,                        ii   81

  Throned in the Sun’s descending Car                          viii  300

  Through Cumbrian wilds, in many a mountain cove,             viii  272

  Through shattered galleries, ’mid roofless halls,             vii  131

  Thus all things lead to Charity, secured                      vii  102

  Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving much              iii  153

  Thus is the storm abated by the craft                         vii   48

  Thy functions are ethereal,                                   vii  204

  ’Tis eight o’clock,--a clear March night,                       i  283

  ’Tis gone--with old belief and dream                          vii  192

  ’Tis He whose yester-evening’s high disdain                  viii   94

  ’Tis not for the unfeeling, the falsely refined,               ii  147

  ’Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold                         vi  286

  ’Tis said, that some have died for love:                       ii  178

  ’Tis said that to the brow of yon fair hill                   vii  230

  ’Tis spent--this burning day of June!                         iii   76

  To a good Man of most dear memory                            viii   18

  To appease the Gods; or public thanks to yield;                vi  363

  To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen,                  vi   16

  “To every Form of being is assigned,”                           v  353

  To kneeling Worshippers no earthly floor                      vii   97

  Too frail to keep the lofty vow                                ii  383

  To public notice, with reluctance strong,                      vi   40

  Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men!                        ii  339

  Tradition, be thou mute! Oblivion, throw                      vii  293

  Tranquillity! the sovereign aim wert thou                     vii  387

  Troubled long with warring notions                             vi  175

  True is it that Ambrosio Salinero                              iv  233

  ’Twas summer, and the sun had mounted high:                     v   26

  Two Voices are there; one is of the sea,                       iv   61

  Under the shadow of a stately Pile,                          viii   78

  Ungrateful Country, if thou e’er forget                       vii   81

  Unless to Peter’s Chair the viewless wind                     vii   34

  Unquiet Childhood here by special grace                       vii  170

  Untouched through all severity of cold;                       vii  231

  “Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away!”                    ii  181

  Up to the throne of God is borne                              vii  408

  Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;                         i  274

  Up with me! up with me into the clouds!                       iii   42

  Urged by Ambition, who with subtlest skill                    vii   26

  Uttered by whom, or how inspired--designed                     vi  306

  Vallombrosa! I longed in thy shadiest wood                     vi  357

  “Vallombrosa--I longed in thy shadiest wood”                 viii   76

  Vanguard of Liberty, ye men of Kent,                           ii  434

  “Wait, prithee, wait!” this answer Lesbia threw              viii   32

  Wanderer! that stoop’st so low, and com’st so near           viii   13

  Wansfell! this Household has a favoured lot,                 viii  153

  Ward of the Law!--dread Shadow of a King!                      vi  209

  Was it to disenchant, and to undo,                             vi  295

  Was the aim frustrated by force or guile,                      vi  184

  Watch, and be firm! for, soul-subduing vice,                  vii   10

  “Weak is the will of Man, his judgment blind;”                 vi   67

  We can endure that He should waste our lands,                  iv  246

  Weep not, belovèd Friends! nor let the air                     iv  230

  We gaze--nor grieve to think that we must die,               viii  306

  We had a female Passenger who came                             ii  342

  _We_ have not passed into a doleful City,                     vii  383

  Well have yon Railway Labourers to THIS ground               viii  176

  Well may’st thou halt--and gaze with brightening eye!          iv   34

  Well sang the Bard who called the grave, in strains           vii  295

  Well worthy to be magnified are they                          vii   84

  Were there, below, a spot of holy ground                        i   37

  Were there, below, a spot of holy ground,                       i  310

  We saw, but surely, in the motley crowd,                      vii  376

  We talked with open heart, and tongue                          ii   91

  We walked along, while bright and red                          ii   89

  What aim had they, the Pair of Monks, in size                viii   74

  What aspect bore the Man who roved or fled,                    vi  237

  What awful pérspective! while from our sight                  vii  106

  “What beast in wilderness or cultured field”                  vii   47

  What beast of chase hath broken from the cover?                vi  360

  What crowd is this? what have we here! we must not
      pass it by                                                 iv   22

  What heavenly smiles! O Lady mine                            viii  177

  What He--who, mid the kindred throng                           vi   29

  What if our numbers barely could defy                        viii   87

  “What is good for a bootless bene?”                            iv  205

  “What know we of the Blest above”                              vi  315

  What lovelier home could gentle Fancy choose?                  vi  294

  What mischief cleaves to unsubdued regret,                    vii  340

  What need of clamorous bells, or ribands gay,                  iv  276

  What sounds are those, Helvellyn, that are heard              iii  270

  What strong allurement draws, what spirit guides,            viii   92

  What though the Accused, upon his own appeal                  vii  223

  What though the Italian pencil wrought not here,               vi  321

  What way does the Wind come? What way does he go?              iv   50

  “_What, you are stepping westward?_”--“_Yea._”                 ii  396

  When Alpine Vales threw forth a suppliant cry,                vii   79

  Whence that low voice?--A whisper from the heart,              vi  252

  When Contemplation, like the night-calm felt                  iii  201

  When, far and wide, swift as the beams of morn                 iv  244

  When first descending from the moorlands,                    viii   27

  When haughty expectations prostrate lie,                       vi  192

  When here with Carthage Rome to conflict came,               viii   66

  When human touch (as monkish books attest),                  viii   34

  When I have borne in memory what has tamed                     ii  348

  When in the antique age of bow and spear                      vii  115

  When, looking on the present face of things,                   ii  433

  When Love was born of heavenly line,                         viii  216

  When Philoctetes in the Lemnian isle                          vii  167

  When Ruth was left half desolate,                              ii  104

  When Severn’s sweeping flood had overthrown,                 viii  314

  When the soft hand of sleep had closed the latch               vi   97

  When thy great soul was freed from mortal chains,             vii   25

  When, to the attractions of the busy world,                   iii   66

  When years of wedded life were as a day                        vi   43

  Where are they now, those wanton Boys?                         ii  281

  Where art thou, my beloved Son,                               iii    7

  Where be the noisy followers of the game                       vi  380

  Where be the temples which, in Britain’s Isle,                 vi   45

  Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends,                     vi  217

  Where lies the Land to which yon Ship must go?                 iv   41

  Where lies the truth? has Man, in wisdom’s creed,            viii  182

  Where long and deeply hath been fixed the root                vii   43

  Where towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds               vii  137

  Where will they stop, those breathing Powers,                 vii  314

  While Anna’s peers and early playmates tread,                 vii  169

  While beams of orient light shoot wide and high,             viii  156

  While flowing rivers yield a blameless sport,                  vi  190

  While from the purpling east departs                          vii  146

  While Merlin paced the Cornish sands,                         vii  252

  While not a leaf seems faded; while the fields,                vi   65

  While poring Antiquarians search the ground,                 viii   33

  While the Poor gather round, till the end of time             vii  307

  While thus from theme to theme the Historian passed,            v  283

  “Who but hails the sight with pleasure”                        vi  156

  Who but is pleased to watch the moon on high,                viii  184

  Who comes--with rapture greeted, and caress’d                 vii   75

  Who fancied what a pretty sight                                ii  374

  Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he                            iv    8

  Who ponders National events shall find,                      viii  131

  Who rashly strove thy Image to portray,                      viii   29

  Who rises on the banks of Seine,                               vi  104

  Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorce                  vi  260

  Who weeps for strangers? Many wept,                          viii  267

  Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant,                    viii   12

  Why cast ye back upon the Gallic shore,                        vi  378

  “Why, Minstrel, these untuneful murmurings--”                 vii  161

  Why should the Enthusiast, journeying through this Isle,      vii  343

  Why should we weep or mourn, Angelic boy,                    viii  181

  Why sleeps the future, as a snake enrolled,                   vii  108

  Why stand we gazing on the sparkling Brine,                   vii  361

  “Why, William, on that old grey stone,”                         i  272

  Wild Redbreast! hadst thou at Jemima’s lip                    vii  176

  Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!                             ii   66

  With copious eulogy in prose or rhyme                         vii  270

  With each recurrence of this glorious morn                     vi  194

  With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the sky,             iv   38

  Within her gilded cage confined,                              vii  142

  Within our happy Castle there dwelt One                        ii  306

  Within the mind strong fancies work,                           vi  158

  With little here to do or see                                  ii  358

  “With sacrifice before the rising morn”                        vi    2

  With Ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,                 iv   40

  Witness thou,                                                viii  234

  Woe to the Crown that doth the Cowl obey!                     vii   27

  “Woe to you, Prelates! rioting in ease”                       vii   49

  Woman! the Power who left his throne on high,                 vii   95

  Wouldst thou be gathered to Christ’s chosen flock,           viii  303

  Wouldst thou be taught, when sleep has taken flight,         viii  151

  Would that our scrupulous Sires had dared to leave            vii   99

  Ye Apennines! with all your fertile vales,                   viii   45

  Ye brood of conscience--Spectres! that frequent,             viii  107

  Ye Lime-trees, ranged before this hallowed Urn,                iv   78

  Ye sacred Nurseries of blooming Youth!                         vi  213

  Ye shadowy Beings, that have rights and claims                vii  377

  Yes! hope may with my strong desire keep pace,                iii  381

  Yes, if the intensities of hope and fear                      vii   88

  Yes, it was the mountain Echo,                                 iv   25

  Yes! thou art fair, yet be not moved,                        viii  176

  Yes, though He well may tremble at the sound,                viii  111

  Ye Storms, resound the praises of your King!                   vi  109

  Yet are they here the same unbroken knot                       iv   65

  Yet many a Novice of the cloistral shade,                     vii   53

  Yet more,--round many a Convent’s blazing fire                vii   51

  Ye, too, must fly before a chasing hand,                      vii   54

  Ye torrents, foaming down the rocky steeps,                  viii  161

  Ye Trees! whose slender roots entwine,                       viii   82

  Yet Truth is keenly sought for, and the wind                  vii   76

  Yet, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our Foes                     iv  242

  Ye vales and hills whose beauty hither drew,                 viii  157

  You call it, “Love lies bleeding,”--so you may,              viii  149

  You have heard “a Spanish Lady”                               vii  232

  YOUNG ENGLAND--what is then become of Old,                   viii  180

  You’re here for one long vernal day;                         viii  284

                           END OF VOL. VIII

           _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.

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