Chapter II: Appendix (1)

Note A 387

Note B 389

ADDENDUM 396

WORDSWORTH'S POETICAL WORKS

1814

_The Excursion_--to which the fifth volume of this edition is devoted--has been assigned to the year 1814; since it was finished, and first published, in that year,--although commenced in 1795. During the earlier stages of its composition, this poem was known, in the Wordsworth household, as "The Pedlar"; and Dorothy Wordsworth tells us in one of her letters to the Beaumonts, preserved amongst the Coleorton MSS., that "The Pedlar" was finished at Christmas 1804. See also the _Memoirs of Wordsworth_, by his nephew (vol. i. p. 304, etc.), and Dorothy's Grasmere Journal, _passim_. But _The Excursion_, as we have it now, was finished for press in 1814. The poems more immediately belonging to that year are _Laodamia_, the _Memorials of a Tour in Scotland_, _Dion_, and two Sonnets.--ED.

LAODAMIA

Composed 1814.--Published 1815.

[Written at Rydal Mount. The incident of the trees growing and withering put the subject into my thoughts, and I wrote with the hope of giving it a loftier tone than, so far as I know, has been given to it by any of the Ancients who have treated of it. It cost me more trouble than almost anything of equal length I have ever written.--I.F.]

In 1815 and 1820 this poem was one of those "founded on the Affections"; afterwards it was classed among the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.

"With sacrifice before the rising morn
Vows have I made by fruitless hope inspired;
And from the infernal Gods, 'mid shades forlorn
Of night, my slaughtered Lord have I required:[1]
Celestial pity I again implore;-- 5
Restore him to my sight--great Jove, restore!"

So speaking, and by fervent love endowed
With faith, the Suppliant heaven-ward lifts her hands;
While, like the sun emerging from a cloud,
Her countenance brightens--and her eye expands; 10
Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows;
And she expects the issue in repose.

O terror! what hath she perceived?--O joy!
What doth she look on?--whom doth she behold?
Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy? 15
His vital presence? his corporeal mould?
It is--if sense deceive her not--'tis He!
And a God leads him, wingèd Mercury!

Mild Hermes spake--and touched her with his wand
That calms all fear; "Such grace hath crowned thy prayer, 20
Laodamía! that at Jove's command
Thy Husband walks the paths of upper air:
He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space;
Accept the gift, behold him face to face!"

Forth sprang the impassioned Queen her Lord to clasp;
Again that consummation she essayed; 26
But unsubstantial Form eludes her grasp
As often as that eager grasp was made.
The Phantom parts--but parts to re-unite,
And re-assume his place before her sight. 30
"Protesiláus, lo! thy guide is gone!
Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice:
This is our palace,--yonder is thy throne;
Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice.
Not to appal me have the gods bestowed 35
This precious boon; and blest a sad abode."

"Great Jove, Laodamía! doth not leave
His gifts imperfect:--Spectre though I be,
I am not sent to scare thee or deceive;
But in reward of thy fidelity. 40
And something also did my worth obtain;
For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain.

"Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold
That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand
Should die; but me the threat could[2] not withhold:
A generous cause a victim did demand; 46
And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain;
A self-devoted chief--by Hector slain."

"Supreme of Heroes--bravest, noblest, best!
Thy matchless courage I bewail no more, 50
Which[3] then, when tens of thousands were deprest
By doubt, propelled thee to the fatal shore;
Thou found'st--and I forgive thee--here thou art--
A nobler counsellor than my poor heart.

"But thou, though capable of sternest deed, 55
Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave;
And he, whose power restores thee, hath decreed
Thou should'st elude[4] the malice of the grave:
Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair
As when their breath enriched Thessalian air. 60

"No Spectre greets me,--no vain Shadow this;
Come, blooming Hero, place thee by my side!
Give, on this well known couch, one nuptial kiss
To me, this day, a second time thy bride!"
Jove frowned in heaven: the conscious Parcæ threw
Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue. 66

"This visage tells thee that my doom is past:
Nor should the change be mourned, even if the joys[5]
Of sense were able to return as fast
And surely as they vanish. Earth destroys 70
Those raptures duly--Erebus disdains:
Calm pleasures there abide--majestic pains.

"Be taught, O faithful Consort, to control
Rebellious passion: for the Gods approve
The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul; 75
A fervent, not ungovernable, love.[6]
Thy transports moderate; and meekly mourn
When I depart, for brief is my sojourn--"

"Ah, wherefore?--Did not Hercules by force
Wrest from the guardian Monster of the tomb 80
Alcestis, a reanimated corse,
Given back to dwell on earth in vernal bloom?[7]
Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years,
And Æson stood a youth 'mid youthful peers.

"The Gods to us are merciful--and they 85
Yet further may relent: for mightier far
Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway
Of magic potent over sun and star,
Is love, though oft to agony distrest, 89
And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast.

"But if thou goest, I follow--" "Peace!" he said,--
She looked upon him and was calmed and cheered;
The ghastly colour from his lips had fled;
In his deportment, shape, and mien, appeared
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, 95
Brought from a pensive though a happy place.

He spake of love, such love as Spirits feel
In worlds whose course is equable and pure;
No fears to beat away--no strife to heal--
The past unsighed for, and the future sure; 100
Spake of heroic arts in graver mood
Revived, with finer harmony pursued;[8]

Of all that is most beauteous--imaged there
In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,
An ampler ether, a diviner air, 105
And fields invested with purpureal gleams;
Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day
Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.

Yet there the Soul shall enter which hath earned
That privilege by virtue.--"Ill," said he, 110
"The end of man's existence I discerned,
Who from ignoble games and revelry
Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight,
While tears were thy best pastime, day and night;

"And while my youthful peers before my eyes 115
(Each hero following his peculiar bent)
Prepared themselves for glorious enterprise
By martial sports,--or, seated in the tent,
Chieftains and kings in council were detained;
What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchained.[A] 120

"The wished-for wind was given:--I then revolved
The oracle, upon the silent sea;[9]
And, if no worthier led the way, resolved
That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be
The foremost prow in pressing to the strand,-- 125
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.

"Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang
When of thy loss I thought, belovèd Wife!
On thee too fondly did my memory hang,
And on the joys we shared in mortal life,-- 130
The paths which we had trod--these fountains, flowers;
My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers.

"But should suspense permit the Foe to cry,
'Behold they tremble!--haughty their array,
Yet of their number no one dares to die?' 135
In soul I swept the indignity away:
Old frailties then recurred:--but lofty thought,
In act embodied, my deliverance wrought.

"And Thou, though strong in love, art all too weak
In reason, in self-government, too slow; 140
I counsel thee by fortitude to seek
Our blest re-union in the shades below.
The invisible world with thee hath sympathised;
Be thy affections raised and solemnised.

"Learn, by a mortal yearning, to ascend 145
Seeking[10] a higher object. Love was given,
Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that[11] end;
For this the passion to excess was driven--
That self might be annulled; her bondage prove
The fetters of a dream, opposed to love."-- 150

Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes re-appears!
Round the dear Shade she would have clung--'tis vain:
The hours are past--too brief had they been years;
And him no mortal effort can detain:
Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day, 155
He through the portal takes his silent way,
And on the palace-floor a lifeless corse She lay.

Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved,
She perished; and, as for a wilful crime,
By the just Gods whom no weak pity moved, 160
Was doomed to wear out her appointed time,
Apart from happy Ghosts, that gather flowers[12]
Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers.

--Yet tears to human suffering are due;
And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown 165
Are mourned by man, and not by man alone,
As fondly he believes.--Upon the side
Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained)
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew
From out the tomb of him for whom she died; 170
And ever, when such stature they had gained
That Ilium's walls were subject to their view,
The trees' tall summits withered at the sight;
A constant interchange of growth and blight![C]

After meeting the Wordsworths at Charles Lamb's, on the 9th May 1815, Henry Crabb Robinson wrote in his _Diary_: "It is the mere power which he is conscious of exerting in which he delights, not the production of a work in which men rejoice on account of the sympathies and sensibilities it excites in them. Hence, he does not much esteem his _Laodamia_, as it belongs to the inferior class of poems founded on the affections." (See _Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence_, vol. i. p. 482.)

Wordsworth wrote thus to Walter Savage Landor, from Rydal Mount, on the 21st of January 1824:--

"You have condescended to minute criticism upon the _Laodamia_.[D]
I concur with you in the first stanza, and had several times
attempted to alter it upon your grounds. I cannot, however, accede
to your objection to the 'second birth,' merely because the
expression has been degraded by Conventiclers.[E] I certainly meant
nothing more by it than the _eadem cura_, and the _largior æther_,
etc., of Virgil's Sixth _Æneid_. All religions owe their origin or
acceptation to the wish of the human heart to supply in another
state of existence the deficiencies of this, and to carry still
nearer to perfection what we admire in our present condition, so
that there must be many modes of expression arising out of this
coincidence, or rather identity of feeling common to all
Mythologies; and under this observation I should shelter the phrase
from your censure--but I may be wrong in the particular case,
though certainly not in the general principle. This leads to a
remark in your last--'that you are disgusted with all books that
treat of religion.' I am afraid it is a bad sign in me, that I have
little relish for any other. Even in poetry it is the imaginative
only, viz., that which is conversant with or turns upon Infinity,
that powerfully affects me. Perhaps I ought to explain: I mean to
say that except in those passages, where things are lost in each
other, and limits vanish, and aspirations are raised, I read with
something too like indifference; but all great Poets are in this
view powerful Religionists."

In 1815 Charles Lamb wrote to Wordsworth, "_Laodamia_ is a very original poem; I mean original with reference to your own manner. You have nothing like it. I should have seen it in a strange place, and greatly admired it, but not suspected its derivation." (_The Letters of Charles Lamb_, edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. i. p. 284.)

Mr. Hazlitt wrote of _Laodamia_: "It breathes the pure spirit of the finest fragments of antiquity--the sweetness, the gravity, the strength, the beauty, and the languor of Death. Its glossy brilliancy arises from the perfection of the finishing, like that of careful sculpture, not from gaudy colouring--the texture of the thoughts has the smoothness and solidity of marble. It is a poem that might be read aloud in Elysium, and the spirits of departed heroes and sages would gather round to listen to it."

I am indebted to the Headmaster of Fettes College, Edinburgh, the Rev. W. A. Heard, for the following illustrative notes on _Laodamia_:--

"This poem illustrates more completely than any other the sympathy
of the poet with the spirit of antiquity in its purest and most
exalted forms. The idea that underlies the poem is the same
conception of 'pietas' which Virgil has embodied in the _Æneid_,
and with which he has associated, especially in the sixth book,
which Wordsworth in many passages recalls, great ethical and
religious conceptions, derived in the main from the philosophy of
Plato. 'Pietas' embraces all the duties of life that are based upon
the affections--love of home and parents and children, love of the
Gods of our Fathers, and a reverence for that great order of things
in which man finds himself a part. The pious man believes in a
destiny, or order transcending his own will: to exalt any passion,
however innocent, above this, is a rebellion; to intensify any
passion, so as to disturb the appropriate calm of resignation, is
to act irreverently against the gods. Lesser duties must give way
to greater: love of wife must give way to love of country, and the
sorrow of bereavement must not obscure the larger issues of life.
Thus, not only did Laodamia's yearning for the restoration of her
husband to life show a failure to recognise the fixity of eternal
laws, but her death was 'ὑπὲρ μόρον' and in reason's
spite; it was, after all, self-will, and could not win the favour
of heaven.

Blending with this notion of 'pietas,' we find the Platonic
repudiation of sensuous and material life. This life is only a
discipline under imperfect conditions, and to be set free from the
passion and fretfulness of existence is the choice and longing of
the wise.

The poem is thus notable, not so much for the assimilation of
details, as for natural affinity to the spirituality of antiquity,
of which Virgil is the purest exponent. Virgil's seriousness, his
tenderness, his conception of the inevitable, and yet moral, order
of the world, his desire for purification, his sadness, and yet
complete freedom from unmanliness, his love of nature and belief in
the sympathy of nature with man--all these are points of contact
between the ancient and modern poet.

_With sacrifice before the rising morn._

Offerings were made to the infernal deities in the interval between midnight and sunrise. See Virgil's _Æneid_, vi. 242-258. Sil. Ital., xiii. 405.

mactare repostis
Mos umbris, inquit, consueta piacula nigras
Sub lucem pecudes.

It is men's wont to offer to the buried shades the proper expiations of black sheep on the verge of dawn.

_Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows._

Non voltus, non color unus,
Non comptae mansere comae; sed pectus anhelum,
Et rabie fera corda tument; majorque videri,
Nec mortale sonans. _Æneid_ vi. 47.

Neither face nor hue remained unchanged, nor braided the locks of her hair: but the bosom heaves and the heart swells wild with frenzy, and she is more majestic to behold, and her voice has no mortal sound.

. . . . _wingèd Mercury._

Ἑρμῆς ψυχαγωγός or ψυχοπομπός, the conductor
of souls.

. . . . _with his wand._

Tum virgam capit: hac animas ille evocat Orco,
Pallentes, alias sub Tartara tristia mittit,
Dat somnos adimitque. _Æneid_ iv. 242.

Then he takes the wand: with this he summons pale ghosts from Orcus, others he sends to gloomy Tartarus below: with this he gives and takes away sleep.

_But unsubstantial Form eludes her grasp._

Ter conatus ibi collo dare bracchia circum,
Ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago,
Par levibus ventis volucrique simillima somno.
_Æneid_ vi. 700.

Thrice thereon he tried to cast his arms around his neck: thrice was the phantom grasped in vain and escaped the embrace, unsubstantial as the fleeting winds and shadowy like as winged sleep.

_But in reward of thy fidelity.
And something also did my worth obtain._

'Vicit iter durum pietas,' is realised by these lines. 'Fidelity has prevailed to traverse the awful path.'

_Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold._

Sors quoque nescio quem fato designat iniquo,
Qui primus Danaum Troada tangat humum.
Ovid, _Heroides_, xiii. 93.

An oracle, moreover, destines some one or other for a cruel doom, who first of the Greeks sets foot on Trojan soil.

_A nobler counsellor than my poor heart._

See Laodamia's words, Ovid, _Heroides_, xiii. 95.

Infelix quae prima virum lugebit ademptum;
Di faciant ne tu strenuus esse velis.
Hoc quoque praemoneo: de nave novissimus exi,
Non est quo properes terra paterna tibi.

Unhappy wife who shall be the first to lament a husband slain: God grant _you_ may not choose the forward part: this warning too I give, be last to disembark: 'tis no fatherland to hasten to, no fatherland for you.

_Give, on this well known couch, one nuptial kiss._

This is probably an adaptation of Ovid, _Heroides_, xiii. 117.

Quando erit ut lecto mecum bene junctus in uno
Militiae referas splendida facta tuae.

When will the time be that you will share the couch, and lovingly at my side recount the glorious deeds of your warfare?

_Be taught, O faithful Consort, to control
Rebellious passion: for the Gods approve
The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul_, etc.

Cf. Euripides, _Iphigeneia in Aulide_, 547:

γαλανείᾳ χρησάμενοι
μαινομένων οἴστρων.

Stilling to calmness the frenzied passions of love.

And again:

εἴη δέ μοι μετρία μὲν
χάρις πόθοι δ' ὅσιοι.

Mine be 'moderate transports' and holy yearnings.

... _Did not Hercules by force._

This refers to the struggle between Hercules and Θάνατος.

_Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years._

The story is found in Ovid, _Metamorphoses_, vii. 159-293.

_Elysian beauty, melancholy grace,
Brought from a pensive though a happy place._

This is a perfect rendering of the _tone_ of the Sixth _Æneid_.

_Spake of heroic arts in graver mood
Revived, with finer harmony pursued._

Quae gratia currum
Armorumque fuit vivis, quae cura nitentes
Pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos.
_Æneid_ vi. 653.

The charm of chariot and armour that they had in life, and the same care to pasture their glossy steeds, follow them deep buried under earth.

_An ampler ether, a diviner air._

Largior hic campos aether et lumine vestit
Purpureo, solemque suum, sua sidera norunt.

Here an 'ampler ether' spreads around the plains, and clothes them in purple light, and they recognise a sun of their own, their own constellations.--_Æneid_ vi. 640.

_Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang._

Cf. Agamemnon's words, _Iphigeneia in Aulide_, 451-468.

_My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers._

Cf. Homer, _Iliad_, ii. 700.

τοῦ δὲ καὶ ἀμφιδρυφὴς ἄλοχος Φυλάκῃ ἐλέλειπτο
καὶ δόμος ἡμιτελής.

But his wife too had been left at Phylace, her cheeks all marred with grief, and his palace half-finished.

_In soul I swept the indignity away._

καὶ γὰρ οὐδέ τοί τι λίαν ἐμὲ φιλοψυχεῖν χρεών.

For neither of a surety ought I to cling to life too fondly.--_Iphigeneia in Aulide_, 1385.

It is from the character of Iphigeneia that Wordsworth derives these traits.

_By the just Gods whom no weak pity moved._

We think of Virgil's tender line in the similar passage about Orpheus and Eurydice. _Georg._ iv. 488.

Quum subita incautum dementia cepit amantem,
_Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere Manes._

Pardonable indeed, were pardon known in the world of death.

_Was doomed to wear out her appointed time._

Virg. _Æn._ vi. 445--

His Phaedram Procrimque locis maestamque Eriphylen
Crudelis nati monstrantem volnera cernit,
Evadnenque et Pasiphaën:
_His Laodamia
It comes._

Those who died of love dwelt in the 'Lugentes Campi,' in the outer regions of Orcus.

_A knot of spiry trees ..._

The passage in Pliny is--

Sunt hodie ex adverso Iliensium urbis juxta Hellespontum in Protesilai sepulcro arbores, quae omnibus aevis cum in tantum accrevere ut Ilium aspiciant, inarescunt rursusque adolescunt.--_Hist. Nat._ 16, 44 (88).

Opposite to Ilium and close to the Hellespont there are to this day trees growing on Protesilaus' tomb, which, in every generation, as soon as they have grown high enough to see Ilium, wither away and again shoot up.

Cf. _Anthologia Graeca_ Pal. vii. 141.

σᾶμα δέ τοι πτελέῃσι συηρεφὲς ἀμφικομεῦσι
Νύμφαι ἀπεχθομένης Ἰλίου ἀντιπέρας,
δένδρεα δυσμήνιτα, καὶ ἤν ποτε τεῖχος ἴδωσι
Τρώϊον αὐαλέην φυλλοχοεῦντι κόμην.

But right opposite hated Ilium the nymphs shroud thy tomb with a roof of elms; trees blighting with a lasting wrath, and if ever they see the walls of Troy, they shed their withering leaves.

And again, vii. 385--

καρφοῦται πετάλων κόσμον ἀναινόμενα.

They wither, disowning the glory of leaves.

For a legend showing a similar sympathy between nature and man, see _Æneid_, iii. 22."

As Wordsworth tells us in the Fenwick note to _Laodamia_, that "it cost him more trouble than almost anything of equal length he had ever written," and as there are many incomplete passages and suppressed readings among his MSS., the two following stanzas--intended at first to follow the second stanza in the poem as it now stands--may be given in a supplementary note.--ED.

That rapture failing, the distracted Queen
Knelt, and embraced the Statue of the God:
"Mighty the boon I ask, but Earth has seen
Effects as awful from thy gracious nod;
All-ruling Jove, unbind the mortal chain,
Nor let the force of prayer be spent in vain!"

Round the high-seated Temple a soft breeze
Along the columns sighed--all else was still--
Mute, vacant as the face of summer seas,
No sign accorded of a favouring will.
Dejected she withdraws--her palace-gate
Enters--and, traversing a room of state,

O terror! etc. etc.

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 1: 1827.

... before the rising morn
Performed, my slaughtered Lord have I required;
And in thick darkness, amid shades forlorn,
Him of the infernal Gods have I desired: 1815.
]

[Footnote 2: 1820.

... did ... 1815.
]

[Footnote 3: 1820.

That ... 1815.
]

[Footnote 4: 1845.

That thou should'st cheat ... 1815.
]

[Footnote 5: 1836.

Know, virtue were not virtue if the joys 1815.
]

[Footnote 6: 1820.

The fervor--not the impotence of love. 1815.
]

[Footnote 7: 1827.

... in beauty's bloom? 1815.
]

[Footnote 8: 1827.

Spake, as a witness, of a second birth
For all that is most perfect upon earth; 1815.
]

[Footnote 9: 1820.

Our future course, upon the silent sea;[B] 1815.
]

[Footnote 10: 1836.

Towards 1815.
]

[Footnote 11: 1827.

this 1815.
]

[Footnote 12: 1845.

Ah, judge her gently who so deeply loved!
Her, who, in reason's spite, yet without crime,
Was in a trance of passion thus removed;
Delivered from the galling yoke of time
And these frail elements--to gather flowers 1815.

By no weak pity might the Gods be moved;
She who thus perished not without the crime
Of Lovers that in Reason's spite have loved,
Was doomed to wander in a grosser clime,
Apart from happy Ghosts--that gather flowers 1827.

Was doomed to wear out her appointed time,
Apart from happy Ghosts-- 1832.

She--who, though warned, exhorted, and reproved,
Thus died, from passion desperate to a crime--
By the just Gods, whom no weak pity moved,
Was doomed to wear out. 1840.

She perished thus, admonished and reproved
In vain; and even as for a wilful crime
By the just Gods, C.

Thus, though forewarned, exhorted, and reproved,
She perished; and even as for a wilful crime, C.
]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: Wordsworth mentioned in a letter to De Quincey (February 8, 1815) that this stanza was added while the poem was passing through the press.--ED.]

[Footnote B: The original MS. of _Laodamia_, however, contained the finally adopted reading "The oracle." Wordsworth explained to De Quincey (February 8, 1815) that he substituted the phrase "our future course," in case the words should seem to allude to the other answer of the oracle which commanded the sacrifice of Iphigenia.--ED.]

[Footnote C: For the account of these long-lived trees, see Pliny's _Natural History_, lib. xvi. cap. 44; and for the features in the character of Protesilaus see the _Iphigenia in Aulis_ of Euripides. Virgil places the Shade of Laodamia in a mournful region, among unhappy Lovers:--

His Laodamia
It comes. W. W. 1827.

To his nephew, John Wordsworth, the poet wrote in 1831, explaining the alterations he had made in the last stanza of _Laodamia_: "As at first written, the heroine was dismissed to happiness in Elysium. To what purpose then the mission of Protesilaus? He exhorts her to moderate her passions; the exhortation is fruitless, and no punishment follows. So it stood: at present she is placed among unhappy ghosts for disregard of the exhortation. Virgil also places her there, but compare the two passages, and give me _your_ opinion." (_William Wordsworth_, by Elizabeth Wordsworth, p. 131.)

With the last two lines of the poem, compare _Hart-Leap Well_, part ii. stanza 4 (vol. ii. p. 133)--

The trees were grey, with neither arms nor head;
Half wasted the square mound of tawny green, etc.

ED.
]

[Footnote D: Compare _Imaginary Conversations_, third series: "Southey and Porson."--ED.]

[Footnote E: He practically admitted its force, however, in the edition of 1827.--ED.]

MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND

1814

On the 18th July 1814, Wordsworth left Rydal, on a second visit to Scotland, accompanied by his wife, and her sister, Sarah Hutchinson.--ED.

[In this tour, my wife and her sister Sara were my companions. The account of the "Brownie's Cell" and the Brownies was given me by a man we met with on the banks of Loch Lomond, a little above Tarbert, and in front of a huge mass of rock, by the side of which, we were told, preachings were often held in the open air. The place is quite a solitude, and the surrounding scenery very striking. How much is it to be regretted that, instead of writing such Poems as the _Holy Fair_ and others, in which the religious observances of his country are treated with so much levity and too often with indecency, Burns had not employed his genius in describing religion under the serious and affecting aspects it must so frequently take.[F]--I.F.]

The poems of this series were collected under their common title in the edition of 1827.--ED.

I

SUGGESTED BY A BEAUTIFUL RUIN UPON ONE OF THE ISLANDS OF LOCH
LOMOND, A PLACE CHOSEN FOR THE RETREAT OF A SOLITARY
INDIVIDUAL,[13] FROM WHOM THIS HABITATION ACQUIRED THE NAME OF

THE BROWNIE'S CELL

Composed 1814.--Published 1820

I

To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen,[14]
Or depth of[15] labyrinthine glen;
Or into trackless forest set
With trees, whose lofty umbrage met;
World-wearied Men withdrew of yore; 5
(Penance their trust, and prayer their store;)
And in the wilderness were bound
To such apartments as they found;
Or with a new ambition raised;
That God might suitably be praised. 10

II

High lodged the _Warrior_,[16] like a bird of prey;
Or where broad waters round him lay:
But this wild Ruin is no ghost
Of his devices--buried, lost!
Within this little lonely isle 15
There stood a consecrated Pile;
Where tapers burned, and mass was sung,
For them whose timid Spirits clung
To mortal succour, though the tomb
Had fixed, for ever fixed, their doom! 20

III

Upon[17] those servants of another world
When madding Power[18] her bolts had hurled,
Their habitation shook;--it fell,
And perished, save one narrow cell;
Whither, at length, a Wretch retired 25
Who neither grovelled nor aspired:
He, struggling in the net of pride,
The future scorned, the past defied;
Still tempering, from the unguilty forge
Of vain conceit, an iron scourge! 30

IV

Proud Remnant was he of a fearless Race,[19]
Who stood and flourished face to face
With their perennial hills;--but Crime,
Hastening the stern decrees of Time,
Brought low a Power, which from its home 35
Burst, when repose grew wearisome;
And, taking impulse from the sword,
And, mocking its own plighted word,
Had found, in ravage widely dealt,
Its warfare's bourn, its travel's belt![20] 40

V

All, all were dispossessed, save him whose smile
Shot lightning through this lonely Isle!
No right had he but what he made
To this small[21] spot, his leafy shade;
But the ground lay within that ring 45
To which he only dared to cling;
Renouncing here,[22] as worse than dead,
The craven few who bowed the head
Beneath the change; who heard a claim
How loud! yet lived in peace with shame. 50

VI

From year to year[23] this shaggy Mortal went
(So seemed it) down a strange descent:
Till they, who saw his outward frame,
Fixed on him an unhallowed name;
Him, free from all malicious taint, 55
And guiding, like the Patmos Saint,
A pen unwearied--to indite,
In his lone Isle,[24] the dreams of night;
Impassioned dreams, that strove to span
The faded glories of his Clan! 60

VII

Suns that through blood their western harbour sought,
And stars that in their courses fought;
Towers rent, winds combating with woods,
Lands deluged by unbridled floods;
And beast and bird that from the spell 65
Of sleep took import terrible;--
These types mysterious (if the show
Of battle and the routed foe
Had failed) would furnish an array
Of matter for the dawning day! 70

VIII

How disappeared He?--ask the newt and toad,
Inheritors of his abode;
The otter crouching undisturbed,
In her dank cleft;--but be thou curbed,
O froward Fancy! 'mid a scene 75
Of aspect winning and serene;
For those offensive creatures shun
The inquisition of the sun!
And in this region flowers delight,
And all is lovely to the sight. 80

IX

Spring finds not here a melancholy breast,
When she applies her annual test
To dead and living; when her breath
Quickens, as now, the withered heath;--
Nor flaunting[25] Summer--when he throws 85
His soul into the briar-rose;
Or calls the lily from her sleep
Prolonged beneath the bordering deep;
Nor Autumn, when the viewless wren
Is warbling near the BROWNIE'S Den. 90

X

Wild Relique! beauteous as the chosen spot
In Nysa's isle, the embellished grot;[G]
Whither, by care of Libyan Jove,
(High Servant of paternal Love)
Young Bacchus was conveyed--to lie 95
Safe from his step-dame Rhea's eye;
Where bud, and bloom, and fruitage, glowed,
Close-crowding round the infant-god;
All colours,--and the liveliest streak
A foil to his celestial cheek! 100

The text of this poem was unaltered in the successive editions with a single exception, occurring in the first line. It was suggested by, and was a reminiscence of the tour in Scotland of 1814; but in 1803 Wordsworth visited the same spot alluded to in the Fenwick note, accompanied by his sister, who thus describes it: "The most remarkable object we saw was a huge single stone, I believe three or four times the size of Bowder Stone. The top of it, which on one side was sloping like the roof of a house, was covered with heather.... The ferryman told us that a preaching was held there once in three months by a certain minister--I think of Arrochar--who engages, as a part of his office, to perform the service. The interesting feelings we had connected with the Highland Sabbath and Highland worship returned here with double force. The rock, though on one side a high perpendicular wall, in no place overhung so as to form a shelter, in no place could it be more than a screen from the elements. Why then had it been selected for such a purpose? Was it merely from being a central situation and a conspicuous object? Or did there belong to it some inheritance of superstition from old times? It is impossible to look at the stone without asking, How came it hither? Had then that obscurity and unaccountableness, that mystery of power which is about it, any influence over the first persons who resorted hither for worship? Or have they now on those who continue to frequent it? The lake is in front of the perpendicular wall, and behind, at some distance, and totally detached from it, is the continuation of the ridge of mountain which forms the Vale of Loch Lomond--a magnificent temple, of which this spot is a noble Sanctum Sanctorum." (_Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland, A.D. 1803_, pp. 225-6.) The late Rev. William Macintosh of Buchanan supplied me with the following information in reference to the Brownie's Cell and the Pulpit Rock:--"I have little doubt that the Brownie's Cell is the name given by Wordsworth to a small vault, itself a ruin among the ruins of an old stronghold of the Macfarlanes in Eilan Vhow, an islet about three miles from the head of the Loch. The name of the islet is spelt in different ways; sometimes as I have given it, sometimes Eilan Vow, or Eilan-a Vhu; no one whom I consulted could tell me the right spelling. In the early part of this century, the vault was the headquarters of a pedlar of the name of Macfarlane. He may have been the Hermit; and there is a story of his having been frightened by the sudden apparition of a negro, (probably the first he had ever seen), who had been ordered by his master--an English officer--to swim across for that purpose: and it is said that he never again visited the cell.

The Pulpit Rock, also called by a Gaelic name meaning the Bull Stone, is a very large boulder, or detached rock, which is likely to 'stand' as long as Ben Lomond. In the face of it, there is an artificial doorway and recess, which at one time the Parish Minister used to occupy as a Pulpit for occasional services. The audience sat on turf seats ranged round the foot of the Rock. The pulpit was reached by a few steps cut out, I suppose, in the Rock: but it has never been used for the last twenty years. The 'occasional' services are now held in a neighbouring schoolroom."

Mr. Malcolm M'Farlane, a very intelligent sheep farmer in Buchanan parish, supplies the following additional information about the Cell and the Rock:--"The 'Pulpit Rock' is a cell in the face of a large stone, blasted out with gunpowder. The proper appellation is, in Gaelic, 'Clach-nan-Tairbh,' literally translated the 'Stone of the Bulls.' It was formed about 50 or 60 years ago, the then minister of Arrochar, Mr. Proudfoot, had promised to preach in that part of his parish, on several occasions during the year, provided they would get up a place for his reception.... It was capable of containing three or four persons inside, was done up with wood work, an outer and inner door, with stone steps leading to the recess. They were not formed out of the rock, but other stones got up for the purpose, and turf seats laid out for the hearers, who were all exposed to the weather, except so far as they might be sheltered by the rock. The service has been discontinued at the rock for about twenty-five years, and is now held at a schoolhouse. The doors are gone, and no portion of the wood work remains. The cell is now used only as a nightly retreat for mendicants, tinkers," etc. Wordsworth's reference, in the Fenwick note, to Burns's _Holy Fair_ induces me to quote what follows in Mr. M'Farlane's letter:--"Open air preaching was then very general in the Highlands: the people came long distances, travelled over hills, even in inclement weather, to attend them. An individual who kept a small inn, on the loch side opposite Inversnaid, used regularly to attend the meetings with a supply of whisky; but he remained behind the 'rock' till the services were over, when the people partook of his refreshments. Also, on the north side of Loch Katrine, the minister of Callander used to conduct services in the open air, on several occasions during the year, in that distant part of his parish. An old man, who lived near the Trossachs, whom I remember very well, regularly attended with a supply of whisky. Dr. Robertson, who was then minister, after concluding the sermon, had gone to an adjoining farm house. The people had indulged too freely, so that a fight commenced (the same thing had happened on several occasions before). The Doctor had to leave his dinner in order to get them separated, and to put an end to the battle, but he never allowed any more whisky to be brought to the place afterwards.... These may be irrelevant matters, but they might illustrate a chapter in Lecky's _History of Morals_, as there is more decorum now observed. Since writing the above, I have thought that if the pulpit-rock is mentioned in Miss Wordsworth's Tour, Mr. M'Nicol, my informant, must have made a mistake in stating the time it was made, as about 50 or 60 years ago; but it cannot have been much more than 80 years, as it is not very long since some of the people who were engaged in the operation died.

"Regarding the island near the head of Loch Lomond which is termed 'Eilan (Island) Vow' in Black's _Guide_, and somewhat differently spelt in others, in the original Gaelic it is 'Eilan a Bhūth.' Būth is a Gaelic name for a shop, so that it is 'the island of the shop.' The English Vow has no connection whatever with the Gaelic, and is perfectly unintelligible. It is part of undoubted traditional history that the chiefs of the Clan M'Farlane, who owned a considerable portion of the adjoining lands, had their residence here. In these turbulent times islands were considered more secure, as surrounded with water. They kept a 'shop' in the island, from which they supplied the little wants of the surrounding population, so that it is perfectly clear how the Island derived its name. A good portion of the stronghold is still in good preservation. A part of the wall is about thirty feet high. It is a very old building. Mr. M'Nicol states that he had learned from his grandfather, by the tradition in the family, that it was erected between the eleventh and the twelfth century. The late Sir James Colquhoun, about twelve years ago, laid out some money for keeping the walls in preservation. At the bottom of the Fort, and below the level of the floor, is the 'Brownie's Cell,' several steps leading down to it, and it is partly underground. It is about twelve feet wide, and sixteen feet long, with an arched roof, the mason work being still in good repair. There is some glimmering light emitted by two small apertures formed in the walls at each end. I have been unable to obtain any specific information what purpose it served in connection with the other building. Some said that it must have been a prison, and others a store for the shop. It might have been a prison at first, and afterwards, in more pacific times, used as a store.

"About the beginning of this century, the Island was occupied by a very eccentric individual, who led the life of a hermit, and took up his abode in this recess. He made frequent excursions out of it, but always returned to his Island-home before the end of the week. It was not then planted with wood, so that he cultivated a part of the ground, raised some crops, kept some poultry. He trained the poultry to fly on the approach of any stranger, so that they could not be got hold of, or taken away in his absence from the Island. He also kept a curious diary, in which local events, his own doings and opinions, were recorded in great detail, expressed in very quaint language. It was by the age of the moon, and not by the days of the month, that events were entered in the diary. He also cultivated astrology, and believed in the evil influence of some of the stars. He had a firm belief in ghosts; but he never was so frightened as when the Black Man (that is the negro), who he thought belonged to the invisible world, swam to the island. Of that adventure I have not been able to obtain a more detailed account, but his landing there very nearly put him out of his wits. The grandfather of the present Duke of Montrose had, on one occasion, visited the Island; and, when landing, the Hermit addressed him, 'James Graham, the Duke of Montrose, you are welcome to come and see my Island.'..."

There is no evidence that the ruin was once "a consecrated Pile," as stated in the poem. Wordsworth had evidently heard of the Hermit's writings, as mentioned by Mr. M'Farlane. See stanza vi., "guiding a pen unwearied."

In the _Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence_ of Henry Crabb Robinson, there is an entry, dated January 2, 1820:--"Went to Lamb's, where I found Mr. and Mrs. Wordsworth.... Not much was said about his (W.'s) new volume of Poems. He himself spoke of _The Brownie's Cell_ as his favourite" (vol. ii. p. 162). In the following year Mr. Crabb Robinson himself visited Scotland, and wrote thus on the 16th September:--"Being on the western side of Loch Lomond, opposite the Mill at Inversnaid, some women kindled a fire, the smoke of which was to be a signal for a ferryboat. No ferryman came; and a feeble old man offering himself as a boatman, I intrusted myself to him. I asked the women who he was. They said, 'That's old Andrew.' According to their account he lived a hermit's life in a lone island on the lake; the poor peasantry giving him meal, and what he wanted, and he picking up pence. On my asking him whether he would take me across the lake, he said, 'I wull, if you'll gi'e me saxpence.' So I consented. But before I was half over I repented of my rashness, for I feared the oars would fall out of his hands. A breath of wind would have rendered half the voyage too much for him. There was some cunning mixed up with the fellow's seeming imbecility, for when his strength was failing he rested, and entered into talk, manifestly to amuse me. He said he could see things before they happened. He saw the Radicals before they came, etc. He had picked up a few words of Spanish and German, which he uttered ridiculously, and laughed. But when I put troublesome questions he affected not to understand me; and was quite astonished, as well as delighted, when I gave him two sixpences instead of the one he had bargained for. The simple-minded women, who affected to look down on him, seemed, however, to stand in awe of him, and no wonder. On my telling Wordsworth this history, he exclaimed, 'That's my "Brownie!"' His _Brownie's Cell_ is by no means one of my favourite poems. My sight of old Andrew showed me the stuff out of which a poetical mind can weave such a web" (vol. ii. pp. 212, 213).

Compare the sequel to this poem, _The Brownie_, in the "Yarrow Revisited and other Poems," of the Tour made in Scotland in the autumn of 1831.--ED.

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 13: 1820.

individual, a sketch of whose character is given
in the Poem, MS.
]

[Footnote 14: 1837.

To barren heath, and quaking fen, 1820.

To {swampy} heath, and quaking fen, MS.
{sandy }
]

[Footnote 15: 1820.

Dark moor and ... MS.
]

[Footnote 16: Italics were first used in 1827.]

[Footnote 17: 1820.

When on ... MS.
]

[Footnote 18: 1820.

Distempered Power ... MS.
]

[Footnote 19: 1820.

Last of an else extinguished Highland clan,
Last glimmering spark, was this rude man;
Sole remnant of a haughty race, MS.
]

[Footnote 20: 1820.

With their perennial hills; but Time
Brought low a power that could not climb,
Though, from its well-defended Home,
When, sword in hand, it chose to roam,
Its warfare's bourne, its travel's belt,
Was devastation widely dealt. MS.

With their perennial hills; but Crime,
That hastens the decrees of time,
Brought low a Power, which, when it chose
To spurn confinement and repose,
Made devastation widely dealt,
Its warfare's bourne, its travel's belt. MS.
]

[Footnote 21: 1820.

... lone ... MS.
]

[Footnote 22: 1820.

For he renounc'd ... MS.

For less than exiled, ... MS.
]

[Footnote 23: 1820.

Here lodged and fed MS.

In Being's scale MS.
]

[Footnote 24: 1820.

descent;
Till he--half dreaded, half disdained,
The title of a BROWNIE gained:
{He who} to no malicious taint
{But he}
Was subject--like the Patmos Saint;
His ruling case, his chief delight,
To pen by day MS.
]

[Footnote 25: 1820.

Nor wanton MS.
]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote F: Compare Wordsworth's _Letter to a Friend of Burns_ (_passim_).--ED.]

[Footnote G: Diodorus mentions this tradition (see his History, book iii. chap. 4), that the infant Bacchus was carried by Ammon, the Libyan Jupiter, to a cave on an island near Mount Nysa, from fear of Rhea, and that he was handed over to the care and the tuition of Nysa, the daughter of Aristæus. From this mountain the young Bacchus was supposed to have derived his name, Dionysus.--ED.]

II

COMPOSED AT CORA LINN,

IN SIGHT OF WALLACE'S TOWER

--How Wallace fought for Scotland, left the name
Of Wallace to be found, like a wild flower,
All over his dear Country; left the deeds
Of Wallace, like a family of ghosts,
To people the steep rocks and river banks,
Her natural sanctuaries, with a local soul
Of independence and stern liberty. _MS._[H]

Composed 1814.--Published 1820

[I had seen this celebrated Waterfall twice before; but the feelings to which it had given birth were not expressed till they recurred in presence of the object on this occasion.--I.F.]

Lord of the vale! astounding Flood;
The dullest leaf in this thick wood
Quakes--conscious of thy power;
The caves reply with hollow moan;
And vibrates, to its central stone, 5
Yon time-cemented Tower![I]

And yet how fair the rural scene!
For thou, O Clyde, hast ever been
Beneficent as strong;
Pleased in refreshing dews to steep 10
The little trembling flowers that peep
Thy shelving rocks among.

Hence all who love their country, love
To look on thee--delight to rove
Where they thy voice can hear; 15
And, to the patriot-warrior's Shade,
Lord of the vale! to Heroes laid
In dust, that voice is dear!

Along thy banks, at dead of night
Sweeps visibly the Wallace Wight; 20
Or stands, in warlike vest,
Aloft, beneath the moon's pale beam,
A Champion worthy of the stream,
Yon grey tower's living crest!

But clouds and envious darkness hide 25
A Form not doubtfully descried:--
Their transient mission o'er,
O say to what blind region flee
These Shapes of awful phantasy?
To what untrodden shore? 30

Less than divine command they spurn;
But this we from the mountains learn,
And this the valleys show;
That never will they deign to hold
Communion where the heart is cold 35
To human weal and woe.

The man of abject soul in vain
Shall walk the Marathonian plain;
Or thrid the shadowy gloom,
That still invests the guardian Pass, 40
Where stood, sublime, Leonidas
Devoted to the tomb.[J]

And let no Slave his head incline,
Or kneel, before the votive shrine
By Uri's lake, where Tell 45
Leapt, from his storm-vext boat, to land,[K]
Heaven's Instrument, for by his hand
That day the Tyrant fell.[26]

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 26: 1845.

Nor deem that it can aught avail
For such to glide with oar or sail
Beneath the piny wood,
Where Tell once drew, by Uri's lake,
His vengeful shafts--prepared to slake
Their thirst in Tyrants' blood! 1820.
]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote H: Compare _The Prelude_ (vol. iii. p. 139), to which may be added the following Wallace Memorials:--"The barrel, or cave, in Bothwell parish; caves in Lasswade, Torphichen, and Lesmahagow parishes; chair at Bonniton, near Lanark; cradle on hill, two miles south by west of Linlithgow; house at Elderslie, in Renfrewshire; larder at Ardrossan; leap in Roseneath parish; monument on Abbey Craig, near Stirling; oaks at Elderslie and at Torwood; seats in Biggar, Kilbarchan, and Dumbarton parishes; statues at Lanark, and adjacent to the Tweed, near Dryburgh; stone in Polmont parish; towers in Ayr town, Roxburgh parish, Auchterhouse parish, and Kirkmichael parish, Dumfriesshire; trench in Kincardine-in-Monteith parish; and well in Biggar parish."--Wilson's _Gazetteer of Scotland_, 1882 (article, "Wallace Memorials").--ED.]

[Footnote I: The "time-cemented Tower" of the old castle of Cora still overlooks the waterfall. Compare the _Address to Kilchurn Castle_ in the "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland," 1803 (vol. ii. p. 400); and, with

The dullest leaf in this thick wood
Quakes--conscious of thy power,

compare the _Lines written in Early Spring_ (vol. i. p. 268).--ED.]

[Footnote J: Leonidas, king of Sparta, killed in the heroic defence of the pass of Thermopylæ, B.C. 480.--ED.]

[Footnote K: On the western side of the bay of Uri, in the lake of Lucerne, is Tell's Platte, where on a ledge of rock stands the chapel--rebuilt in 1880, but said to have been originally built in 1388--on the spot where the Swiss Patriot leapt out of Gessler's boat, and shot the tyrant.--ED.]

III

EFFUSION,

IN THE PLEASURE-GROUND ON THE BANKS OF THE BRAN, NEAR DUNKELD

Composed 1814.--Published 1827

[I am not aware that this condemnatory effusion was ever seen by the owner of the place. He might be disposed to pay little attention to it; but were it to prove otherwise I should be glad, for the whole exhibition is distressingly puerile.--I.F.]

"The waterfall, by a loud roaring, warned us when we must expect it. We were first, however, conducted into a small apartment, where the Gardener desired us to look at a picture of Ossian, which, while he was telling the history of the young Artist who executed the work, disappeared, parting in the middle--flying asunder as by the touch of magic--and lo! we are at the entrance of a splendid apartment, which was almost dizzy and alive with waterfalls, that tumbled in all directions; the great cascade, opposite the window, which faced us, being reflected in innumerable mirrors upon the ceiling and against the walls."--_Extract from the Journal of my Fellow-Traveller._[L]

What He--who, mid the kindred throng
Of Heroes that inspired his song,
Doth yet frequent the hill of storms,
The stars dim-twinkling through their forms!
What! Ossian here--a painted Thrall, 5
Mute fixture on a stuccoed wall;
To serve--an unsuspected screen
For show that must not yet be seen;
And, when the moment comes, to part
And vanish by mysterious art; 10
Head, harp, and body, split asunder,
For ingress to a world of wonder;
A gay saloon, with waters dancing
Upon the sight wherever glancing;
One loud cascade in front, and lo! 15
A thousand like it, white as snow--
Streams on the walls, and torrent-foam
As active round the hollow dome,
Illusive cataracts! of their terrors
Not stripped, nor voiceless in the mirrors, 20
That catch the pageant from the flood
Thundering adown a rocky wood.
What pains to dazzle and confound!
What strife of colour, shape and sound
In this quaint medley, that might seem 25
Devised out of a sick man's dream![27]
Strange scene, fantastic and uneasy
As ever made a maniac dizzy,
When disenchanted from the mood
That loves on sullen thoughts to brood! 30

O Nature--in thy changeful visions,
Through all thy most abrupt transitions[28]
Smooth, graceful, tender, or sublime--
Ever averse to pantomime,
Thee neither do they know nor us 35
Thy servants, who can trifle thus;
Else verily[29] the sober powers
Of rock that frowns, and stream that roars,
Exalted by congenial sway
Of Spirits, and the undying Lay, 40
And Names that moulder not away,
Had wakened[30] some redeeming thought
More worthy of this favoured Spot;
Recalled some feeling--to set free
The Bard from such indignity! 45

[M]The Effigies of a valiant Wight
I once beheld, a Templar Knight;
Not prostrate, not like those that rest
On tombs, with palms together prest,
But sculptured out of living stone, 50
And standing upright and alone,
Both hands with rival energy
Employed in setting his sword free
From its dull sheath--stern sentinel
Intent to guard St. Robert's cell;[N] 55
As if with memory of the affray
Far distant, when, as legends say,
The Monks of Fountain's[O] thronged to force
From its dear home the Hermit's corse,
That in their keeping it might lie, 60
To crown their abbey's sanctity.
So had they rushed into the grot
Of sense despised, a world forgot,
And torn him from his loved retreat,
Where altar-stone and rock-hewn seat 65
Still hint that quiet best is found,
Even by the _Living_, under ground;
But a bold Knight, the selfish aim
Defeating, put the Monks to shame,
There where you see his Image stand 70
Bare to the sky, with threatening bran
Which lingering NID is proud to show
Reflected in the pool below.

Thus, like the men of earliest days,
Our sires set forth their grateful praise: 75
Uncouth the workmanship, and rude!
But, nursed in mountain solitude,
Might some aspiring artist dare
To seize whate'er, through misty air,
A ghost, by glimpses, may present 80
Of imitable lineament,
And give the phantom an array
That less[31] should scorn the abandoned clay;
Then let him hew with patient stroke
An Ossian out of mural rock, 85
And leave the figurative Man--
Upon thy margin, roaring Bran!--
Fixed, like the Templar of the steep,
An everlasting watch to keep;
With local sanctities in trust, 90
More precious than a hermit's dust;
And virtues through the mass infused,
Which old idolatry abused.