Chapter VIII (4)

[UU] Which is thus described by Dr. Whitaker:--"On the plain summit of the hill are the foundations of a strong wall, stretching from the S. W. to the N. E. corner of the tower, and to the edge of a very deep glen. From this glen, a ditch, several hundred yards long, runs south to another deep and rugged ravine. On the N. and W. where the banks are very steep, no wall or mound is discoverable, paling being the only fence that would stand on such ground.

"From the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, it appears that such pounds for deer, sheep, etc., were far from being uncommon in the south of Scotland. The principle of them was something like that of a wire mouse-trap. On the declivity of a steep hill, the bottom and sides of which were fenced so as to be impassable, a wall was constructed nearly level with the surface on the outside, yet so high within that without wings it was impossible to escape in the opposite direction. Care was probably taken that these enclosures should contain better feed than the neighbouring parks or forests; and whoever is acquainted with the habits of these sequacious animals, will easily conceive, that if the leader was once tempted to descend into the snare, an herd would follow."

I cannot conclude without recommending to the notice of all lovers of beautiful scenery--Bolton Abbey and its neighbourhood. This enchanting spot belongs to the Duke of Devonshire; and the superintendance of it has for some years been entrusted to the Rev. William Carr, who has most skilfully opened out its features; and in whatever he has added, has done justice to the place by working with an invisible hand of art in the very spirit of nature.--W. W. 1815.

[VV] The late Archdeacon of Craven wrote to me of this, "There never can have been a Lady Chapel in the usual place at Bolton, for the altar was close to the east window. I never heard of a Saint Mary's _shrine_; but, most probably, the church was dedicated to St. Mary, in which case she" (the Lady Emily) "would be speaking of the building. In proof of this, the Priory of Embsay was dedicated to St. Mary; and naturally the dedication, on the removal from Embsay to Bolton, would be renewed. See Whitaker, p. 369, in extracting from the compotus, 'Comp. Monasterii be' Mar' de Boulton in Craven.'" It may be added that the whole church being dedicated to St. Mary--as in the case of the Cistercian buildings--there would be no Lady Chapel. The mention in detail of "prostrate altars," "shrines defaced," "fret-work imagery," "plates of ornamental brass," and "sculptured Forms of Warriors" in the closing canto of _The White Doe_ is--like the "one sequestered hillock green" where Francis Norton was supposed to "sleep in his last abode"--part of the imaginative drapery of the poem.--ED.

[WW] Compare Sackville's _Ferrex and Porrex_, iv. 2; Lord Surrey's lines beginning, "Give place, ye lovers"; and George Turberville's poem which begins, "You want no skill."--ED.

[XX] Camden expressly says that he was violently attached to the Catholic Religion.--W. W. 1815.

THE FORCE OF PRAYER;[A] OR, THE FOUNDING OF BOLTON PRIORY

A TRADITION

Composed 1807.--Published 1815

[An appendage to _The White Doe_. My friend, Mr. Rogers, has also written on the subject.[B] The story is preserved in Dr. Whitaker's _History of Craven_--a topographical writer of first-rate merit in all that concerns the past; but such was his aversion from the modern spirit, as shown in the spread of manufactories in those districts of which he treats, that his readers are left entirely ignorant both of the progress of these arts and their real bearing upon the comfort, virtues, and happiness of the inhabitants. While wandering on foot through the fertile valleys and over the moorlands of the Apennine that divide Yorkshire from Lancashire, I used to be delighted with observing the number of substantial cottages that had sprung up on every side, each having its little plot of fertile ground won from the surrounding waste. A bright and warm fire, if needed, was always to be found in these dwellings. The father was at his loom; the children looked healthy and happy. Is it not to be feared that the increase of mechanic power had done away with many of these blessings, and substituted many ills? Alas! if these evils grow, how are they to be checked, and where is the remedy to be found? Political economy will not supply it; that is certain; we must look to something deeper, purer, and higher.--I. F.]

Included among the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--ED.

"=What is good for a bootless bene?="
With these dark words begins my Tale;
And their meaning is, whence can comfort spring
When Prayer is of no avail?

"=What is good for a bootless bene?=" 5
The Falconer to the Lady said;
And she made answer "ENDLESS SORROW!"
For she knew that her Son was dead.

She knew it by[1] the Falconer's words,
And from the look of the Falconer's eye; 10
And from the love which was in her soul
For her youthful Romilly.

--Young Romilly through Barden woods
Is ranging high and low;
And holds a greyhound in a leash, 15
To let slip upon buck or doe.

The pair[2] have reached that fearful chasm,
How tempting to bestride!
For lordly Wharf is there pent in
With rocks on either side. 20

The[3] striding-place is called THE STRID,
A name which it took of yore:
A thousand years hath it borne that name,
And shall a thousand more.

And hither is young Romilly come, 25
And what may now forbid
That he, perhaps for the hundredth time,
Shall bound across THE STRID?

He sprang in glee,--for what cared he 29
That the river was strong, and the rocks were steep?--
But the greyhound in the leash hung back,
And checked him in his leap.

The Boy is in the arms of Wharf,
And strangled by[4] a merciless force;
For never more was young Romilly seen 35
Till he rose a lifeless corse.

Now there is[5] stillness in the vale,
And long,[6] unspeaking, sorrow:
Wharf shall be to pitying hearts
A name more sad than Yarrow. 40

If for a lover the Lady wept,
A solace she might borrow
From death, and from the passion of death:--
Old Wharf might heal her sorrow.

She weeps not for the wedding-day 45
Which was to be to-morrow:
Her hope was a further-looking hope,
And hers is a mother's sorrow.

He was a tree that stood alone,
And proudly did its branches wave; 50
And the root of this delightful tree
Was in her husband's grave!

Long, long in darkness did she sit,
And her first words were, "Let there be
In Bolton, on the field of Wharf, 55
A stately Priory!"

The stately Priory was reared;[C]
And Wharf, as he moved along,
To matins joined a mournful voice,
Nor failed at even-song. 60

And the Lady prayed in heaviness
That looked not for relief!
But slowly did her succour come,
And a patience to her grief.

Oh! there is never sorrow of heart 65
That shall lack a timely end,
If but to God we turn, and ask
Of Him to be our friend![D]

There were few variations in the text of this poem, from 1815 to 1850; but I have found, in a letter of Dorothy Wordsworth's to her friend Miss Jane Pollard, the mother of Lady Monteagle--who kindly sent it to me--an earlier version, which differs considerably from the form in which it was first published in 1815. The letter is dated October 18th, 1807, and the poem is as follows:--

"_What is good for a bootless bene?_"
The Lady answer'd, "_endless sorrow_."
_Her_ words are plain; but the Falconer's words
Are a path that is dark to travel thorough.

These words I bring from the Banks of Wharf,
Dark words to front an ancient tale:
And their meaning is, whence can comfort spring
When prayer is of no avail?

"What is good for a bootless bene?"
The Falconer to the Lady said,
And she made answer as ye have heard,
For she knew that her Son was dead.

She knew it from the Falconer's words
And from the look of the Falconer's eye,
And from the love that was in her heart
For her youthful Romelli.

Young Romelli to the Woods is gone,
And who doth on his steps attend?
He hath a greyhound in a leash,
A chosen forest Friend.

And they have reach'd that famous Chasm
Where he who dares may stride
Across the River Wharf, pent in
With rocks on either side.

And that striding place is call'd THE STRID,
A name which it took of yore;
A thousand years hath it borne that name,
And shall a thousand more.

And thither is young Romelli come;
And what may now forbid
That He, perhaps for the hundredth time,
Shall bound across the Strid?

He sprang in glee; for what cared he
That the River was strong, and the Rocks were steep?
But the greyhound in the Leash hung back
And check'd him in his leap.

The Boy is in the arms of Wharf,
And strangled with a merciless force;
For never more was young Romelli seen,
Till he was a lifeless corse.

Now is there stillness in the vale
And long unspeaking sorrow,
Wharf has buried fonder hopes
Than e'er were drown'd in Yarrow.[E]

If for a Lover the Lady wept
A comfort she might borrow
From death, and from the passion of death;
Old Wharf might heal her sorrow.

She weeps not for the Wedding-day
That was to be to-morrow,[F]
Her hope was a farther-looking hope
And hers is a Mother's sorrow.

Oh was he not a comely tree?
And proudly did his branches wave;
And the Root of this delightful Tree
Is in her Husband's grave.

Long, long in darkness did she sit,
And her first word was, "Let there be
At Bolton, in the Fields of Wharf
A stately Priory."

And the stately Priory was rear'd,
And Wharf as he moved along,
To Matins joined a mournful voice,
Nor fail'd at Even-song.

And the Lady pray'd in heaviness
That wish'd not for relief;
But slowly did her succour come,
And a patience to her grief.

Oh! there is never sorrow of heart
That shall lack a timely end,
If but to God we turn, and ask
Of him to be our Friend.

The poem of Samuel Rogers, to which Wordsworth refers in the Fenwick note, is named _The Boy of Egremond_. It begins--

"Say, what remains when Hope is fled?"
She answered, "endless weeping!"

In a letter to Wordsworth in 1815, Charles Lamb wrote thus of _The Force of Prayer_, "Young Romilly is divine; the reasons of his mother's grief being remediless. I never saw parental love carried up so high, towering above the other loves. Shakspeare had done something for the filial in Cordelia, and, by implication, for the fatherly too, in Lear's resentment; he left it for you to explore the depths of the maternal heart.... When I first opened upon the just mentioned poem, in a careless tone, I said to Mary, as if putting a riddle, '_What is good for a bootless bene?_' To which, with infinite presence of mind (as the jest-book has it), she answered, 'A shoeless pea.' It was the first joke she ever made.... I never felt deeply in my life if that poem did not make me feel, both lately and when I read it in MS." (_The Letters of Charles Lamb_, edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. i. p. 288.)--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1820.

... from ... 1815.

[2] 1820.

And the Pair ... 1815.

[3] 1850.

This ... 1815.

[4] 1820.

... with ... 1815.

[5] 1820.

Now is there ... 1815.

[6] 1815.

And deep ... 1827.

The text of 1837 returns to that of 1815.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] See _The White Doe of Rylstone_.--W. W. 1820.

[B] Charles Lamb wrote to Wordsworth, May 1819, of Rogers--"He has been re-writing your Poem of the Strid, and publishing it at the end of his 'Human Life.' Tie him up to the cart, hangman, while you are about it." (_The Letters of Charles Lamb_, edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. ii. p. 20.)--ED.

[C] The Lady Alice De Romilly built not only Bolton Priory, but the nave of Carlisle Cathedral, and the chancel of Crosthwaite Parish Church at Keswick.--ED.

[D] "Young Romilly" was a son of Fitz Duncan, Earl of Murray in Scotland, whose Cumbrian estates extended from Dunmail Raise to St. Bees. This "Boy of Egremond" was second cousin of Malcolm, King of Scotland; and by the marriage of Fitz Duncan's sister (Matilda the Good) with Henry I. of England, he stood in the same relation to Henry II. of England. Fitz Duncan married Alice, the only daughter and heiress of Robert de Romilly, lord of Skipton. Compare Ferguson's _History of Cumberland_, p. 175.--ED.

[E] Alluding to a Ballad of Logan's.--W. W. 1807.

[F] From the same Ballad.--W. W. 1807.

COMPOSED WHILE THE AUTHOR WAS ENGAGED IN WRITING A TRACT, OCCASIONED BY
THE CONVENTION OF CINTRA. 1808

Composed 1808.--Published 1815

This sonnet was included among those "dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

Not 'mid the World's vain objects that[1] enslave
The free-born Soul--that World whose vaunted skill
In selfish interest perverts the will,
Whose factions lead astray the wise and brave--
Not there; but in dark wood and rocky cave, 5
And hollow vale which foaming torrents fill
With omnipresent murmur as they rave
Down their steep beds, that never shall be still:
Here, mighty Nature! in this school sublime
I weigh the hopes and fears of suffering Spain; 10
For her consult the auguries of time,
And through the human heart explore my way;
And look and listen--gathering, whence[2] I may,
Triumph, and thoughts no bondage can restrain.

Wordsworth began to write on the Convention of Cintra in November 1808, and sent two articles on the subject to the December (1808) and January (1809) numbers of _The Courier_. The subject grew in importance to him as he discussed it: and he threw his reflections on the subject into the form of a small treatise, the preface to which was dated 20th May 1809. The full title of this (so-called) "Tract" is "Concerning the Relations of Great Britain, Spain, and Portugal to each other, and to the common Enemy, at this crisis; 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."--ED.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1820.

... which ... 1815.

[2] 1827.

... where ... 1815.

COMPOSED AT THE SAME TIME AND ON THE SAME OCCASION

Composed 1808.--Published 1815

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

I dropped my pen; and listened to the Wind
That sang of trees up-torn and vessels tost--
A midnight harmony; and wholly lost
To the general sense of men by chains confined
Of business, care, or pleasure; or resigned 5
To timely sleep. Thought I, the impassioned strain,
Which, without aid of numbers, I sustain,
Like acceptation from the World will find.
Yet some with apprehensive ear shall drink
A dirge devoutly breathed o'er sorrows past; 10
And to the attendant promise will give heed--
The prophecy,--like that of this wild blast,
Which, while it makes the heart with sadness shrink,
Tells also of bright calms that shall succeed.

1809

The poems belonging to the years 1809 and 1810 were mainly sonnets--although _The Excursion_ was being added to at intervals. Of twenty-four which were included by Wordsworth, in the final arrangement of his poems, among those "dedicated to National Independence and Liberty," fourteen belong to the year 1809, and ten to 1810. It is difficult to ascertain the principle which guided him in determining the succession of these sonnets. They were not placed in chronological order; nor is there any historical or topographical reason for their being arranged as they were. I have therefore felt at liberty to depart from his order, to the following extent.

The six sonnets referring to the Tyrolese have been brought together in one group. Those containing allusions to Spain might have been similarly treated; but the sonnets on Schill, the King of Sweden, and Napoleon--as arranged by Wordsworth himself--do not break the continuity of the series on Spain, in the same way that the insertion of those on Palafox and Zaragoza interferes with the unity of the Tyrolean group; and the re-arrangement of the latter series enables me more conveniently to append to it a German translation of the sonnets, and a paper upon them, by Alois Brandl.--ED.

TYROLESE SONNETS