Chapter XXXV: Part III (1)

*215. " vi. Fame tells, &c. *216. " vii. Where lively ground, &c. *217. " ix. A stream, &c. 218. " xi. In the Woods of Rydal *219. " xiii. While Anna's peers, &c. *220. " xvi. Unquiet childhood, &c. *222. " xvii. Such age, &c. *223. " xviii. Rotha, &c. 224. The Rotha *225. Sonnet xix. Miserrimus *226. " xx. While poring, &c. *227. " xxi. Chatsworth, &c. *228. " xxii. 'Tis said, &c. *229. " xxiii. Untouched, &c. *230. " xxiv. Go, &c. *231. " xxv. Why art, &c. *232. " xxvi. Haydon, &c. *233. " xxvii. A poet, &c. *234. " xxviii. The most, &c. *235. " xxix. By Art's, &c. *236. " xxxii. All praise, &c. *237. " xxxvi. Oh, what, &c. *238. " xxxvii. Intent, &c. 239. " xlii. Wansfel 240. " xliii. A little rural town

VIII. _Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803_.

*241. Setting out *242. To the Sons of Burns, &c. 243. Ellen Irwin, &c. *244. To a Highland Girl 245. Stepping Westward *246. Address to Kilchurn Castle. *247. Rob Roy's Grave *248. Sonnet composed at ---- Castle 249. Yarrow Unvisited 250. The Matron of Jedborough, &c. *251. Sonnet, Fly, &c. *252. The Blind Highland Boy

IX. _Memorials of a Second Tour in Scotland, 1814_.

*253. Suggested by a beautiful Ruin, &c. *254. At Corra Linn *255. Effusion, &c. *256. Yarrow Visited

X. _Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty_.

257. Robert Jones 258. I grieved, &c. 259. The King of Sweden, &c. *260. Sept. 1, 1802 *261. Two Voices are there, &c. *262. O Friend, &c. *263. War in Spain *264. Zaragossa *265. Lines on expected Invasion 266. Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke 267. Oak of Guernica 268. Thanksgiving Ode *269. Ibid. 270. Spenser

XI. _Memorials of a Tour on the Continent, 1820_.

*271. Introductory Remarks 272. Fishwomen of Calais *273. Incident at Bruges 274. Between Namur and Liege 275. Miserere Domine 276. The Danube 277. The Staub-bach 278. Memorial, &c. 279. Engelberg 280. Our Lady of the Snow 281. Tower of Tell at Altorf 282. Schwytz 283. Church of San Salvador 284. Arnold Winkelried 285. The Last Supper 286. Statues on Milan Cathedral 287. A Religious Procession 288. Elegiac Stanzas 289. Mount Righi 290. Tower of Caligula 291. Herds of Cattle 292. The Forks 292a. The Landenberg 293. Pictures in Bridges, &c. *294. At Dover

XII. _Memorials of a Tour in Italy, 1837_.

*295. Introductory Remarks 296. Ibid. *297. Musings at Aquapendente 298. Scott and Tasso 299. Over waves, &c. 300. How lovely, &c. 301. This flowering Broom, &c. 302. The Religious Movement, &c. 302a. Pine-tree of Monte Mario 303. Is this, ye Gods 304. At Rome *305. At Albano *306. Cuckoo at Laverna 307. Camaldoli 308. Monk-visitors *309. At Vallombrosa *310. At Florence *311. The Baptist *312. Florence *312a. Convent in the Apennines *313. After leaving Italy *314. At Rydal, 1838 *315. Pillar of Trajan *316. The Egyptian Maid

XIII. _The River Duddon, &c._

317. Introduction 318. The River Duddon 319. Sonnets on the Duddon 320. The Wild Strawberry 321. Return, &c. 322. Memoir of Walker 323. Milton 324. White Doe of Rylstone, &c. *325. Ibid. 326. Hazlitt 327. Bolton Abbey 328. Lady A‰liza 328a. Brancepeth 329. Battle of the Standard 330. Bells of Rylstone 331. Rock-encircled Pound

XIV. _Ecclesiastical Sonnets_.

332. Advertisement *333. Introductory Remarks 334. St. Paul never in Britain 335. Water-fowl 336. Hill at St. Alban's 337. Hallelujahs 338. Daniel and Fuller 339. Old Bangor 340. Paulinus 341. Edwin and the Sparrow 342. Near fresh Streams 343. The Clergy 343a. Bede 344. Zeal 345. Alfred 346. Crown and Cowl 347. Council of Clermont 348. Cistertian Monastery 349. Waldenses 350. Borrowed Lines 351. Transfiguration 352. Craft 353. The Virgin Mountain 354. Land 355. Pilgrim Fathers 356. The Clergyman 357. Rush-bearing 358. George Dyer 359. Apprehension 360. The Cross 361. Monte Rosa

XV. _Yarrow Revisited, &c._

362. Dedication *363. Yarrow Revisited *363a. Ibid. *364. Place of Burial, &c. *365. A Manse in Scotland *366. Roslin Chapel *367. The Trosachs *368. Lock Etive Glen 369. Eagles *370. Sound of Mull 371. Shepherds 372. Highland Broach 373. The Brownie *374. Bothwell Castle *375. The Avon *376. Inglewood Forest 377. Hart's-Horn Tree 378. Fancy and Tradition 379. Countess' Pillar

XVI. _Evening Voluntaries_.

380. Sixty-third Birthday *381. By the Sea-side 382. Not in the lucid, &c. 383. The leaves, &c. 384. Impromptu *385. Evening of extraordinary Splendour 386. Alston 387. Mountain-ridges

XVII. _Poems composed in Tour of_ 1833.

388. Advertisement 389. The Greta 390. Brigham Church *391. Nun's Well, Brigham *392. To a Friend 393. Mary Queen of Scots *394. " " 395. St. Bees and C. Smith 396. Requiems. 397. Sir William Hillary 398. Isle of Man *399. " 400. By a retired Mariner *401. At Bala Sala *402. Tynwald Hill 403. Snafell 404. Eagle in Mosaic *405. Frith of Clyde, &c. 406. " " 407. Mosgiel *408. Macpherson's 'Ossian' 409. Cave of Staffa 410. Ox-eyed Daisy 411. Iona 412. Eden 413. " *414. Mrs. Howard 415. Nunnery 416. Corby *417. Druidical Monument *418. Lowther 419. Earl of Lonsdale *420. The Somnambulist

XVIII. _Poems of Sentiment, &c._

421. Expostulation and Reply 422. The Tables turned *423. Lines written in early Spring *424. A Character *425. To my Sister *426. Simon Lee *427. Germany, 1798-9 *428. To the Daisy 429. Matthew *430. " 431. Personal Talk *432. Spade of a Friend *433. A Night Thought *434. An Incident, &c. 435. Tribute, &c. 436. Fidelity *437. Ode to Duty *438. Happy Warrior *439. The Force of Prayer *440. A Fact, &c. *441. A little onward 442. Ode to Lycoris *443. Ibid. *444. Memory *445. This Lawn *446. Humanity. *447. Thought on the Seasons *448. To ----, &c. *449. The Warning *450. The Labourer's Noon-day Hymn *451. May Morning *452. Portrait by Stone *453. Bird of Paradise

XIX. _Sonnets dedicated to Liberty_.

454. Change 455. American Repudiation 456. To the Pennsylvanians *457. Feel for the Wrongs, &c. 458. Punishment of Death

XX. _Miscellaneous Poems_.

459. Epistle to Beaumont *460. Upon perusing the Foregoing, &c. 461. Ibid. *462. Gold and Silver Fishes *463. Liberty 464. " 465. Poor Robin *466. Ibid. *467. Lady le Fleming *468. To a Redbreast *469. Floating Island *470. Once I could hail, &c. *471. The Gleaner 472. Nightshade 473. Churches--East and West 474. Horn of Egremont Castle *475. Goody Blake, &c. *476. To a Child *477. Lines in an Album, &c. 478. The Russian Fugitive *479. Ibid.

XXI. _Inscriptions_.

*480 to 486

XXII. _Selections from Chaucer modernised_.

487. Of the Volume, &c 488. The Prioress's Tale

XXIII. _Poems referring to Old Age_.

489. The Old Cumberland Beggar *490. Ibid. 491 and 492. Farmer of Tilsbury Vale 493. The small Celandine *494. The two Thieves *495. Animal Tranquillity, &c.

XXIV. _Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces_.

*496. From Chiabrera *497. By a blest Husband, &c. 498. Cenotaph *499. Epitaph, &c. *500. Address to Scholars *501. Elegiac Stanzas, &c. 502. Elegiac Verses 503. Moss Campion 504. Lines 189 *505. Invocation to the Earth *506. Elegiac Stanzas *507. Elegiac Musings 508. Charles Lamb *509. Ibid. *510. James Hogg, Mrs. Hemans, &c. 511. Dead Friends *512. Ode: Intimations of Immortality, &c.

XXV. _The Excursion_.

*513. On the leading Characters and Scenes 514. The Aristocracy of Nature 515. Eternity 516. Of Mississippi, &c. 517. Richard Baxter 518. Endowment of Immortal Power, &c. 519. Samuel Daniel, &c. 520. Spires 521. Sycamores 522. The Transitory 523. Dyer and The Fleece 524. Dr. Bell

II. LETTERS AND EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS.

1. Autobiographical Memoranda, &c.
2. Schoolmistress
3. Books and Reading
4. Tour on the Continent, 1790: Letter to Miss Wordsworth
5. In Wales
6. Melancholy of a Friend
7. Holy Orders
8. The French Revolution
9. Failure of Louvet's Denunciation of Robespierre
10. Of inflammatory political Opinions
11. At Milkhouse, Halifax; 'Not _to take orders_'
12. Literary Work, &c.
13. Employment on a London Newspaper
14. Raisley Calvert's Last Illness
15. Family History
16. Reading
17. Satire: Juvenal, &c., 1795
18. Visit to Thelwall
19. Poetry added to, 1798
20. On the Wye
21. At Home again
22. Early Visit to the Lake District
23. On a Tour, 1799
24. At the Lakes: Letter to Coleridge
25. Inconsistent Opinions on Poems
26. On his Scottish Tour: To Scott
27. The Grove: Capt. Wordsworth
28. Spenser and Milton
29. Death of Capt. Wordsworth
30. Of Dryden: To Scott
31. Of Marmion
32. Topographical History
33. The War in Spain, &c.
34, 35, 36. The Convention of Cintra
37. Home at Grasmere
*38. On Education of the Young
39. Roman Catholics, &c.
40. Death of Children
41. Letter of Introduction: Humour
42. The Peninsular War
43. Of Southey
44. Of alleged Changes in political Opinions
45. Of his Poems, &c.
46. Of Thanksgiving Ode, &c.
47. Of Poems in Stanzas
48 and 49. The Classics: Aeneid, &c.
50. Tour on the Continent, 1820
51. Shakspeare's Cliff at Dover
52. Of Affairs on the Continent, 1828
*53. Style: Francis Edgeworth, &c.
54. Of the Icon BasilikÈ, &c.
55. Of the R. Catholic Question
56. Of the R.C. Emancipation Bill
57. Of Ireland and the Poor Laws
58. Of Lonsdale: Virgil, &c.
59. Poems of Moxon
*60. Of Hamilton's, 'It haunts,' &c.
61. Of Collins, Dyer, &c.
62. Verses and Counsels
63. Annuals and Roguery
64. Works of Peele, &c.
65. Lady Winchelsea, Tickell, &c.
*66. Hamilton's 'Spirit of Beauty,' &c.
67. Play, Home, &c.
68. Summer, Quillinan, &c.
69. Works of Webster, &c.
70. French Revolution, 1830
*71. Nonsense: Rotten Boroughs, &c.
*72. Verses: Edgeworth, &c.
73. Tour in Scotland
74. Sir Walter Scott
75. Of writing more Prose
76. Of Poetry and Prose, &c.
77. Of the Reform Bill
78. Of political Affairs
79. Family Affliction, &c.
*80. Illness of Sister, &c.
81. Lucretia Davidson, &c.
82. Tuition at the University
83. Dissenters in University
84. Skelton
85. James Shirley
86. Literary Criticism, &c.
87. Of Elia, &c.
88. English Sonnets, &c.
89. Lady Winchelsea, &c.
90. Popularity of Poetry
91. Sonnets and Female Poets, &c.
92. Mrs. Hemans' Dedication
93. Verse-attempts
94. Mrs. Hemans' Poems
95. Church of England
96. Omnipresence of the Deity
97. and 98. New Church at Cockermouth
*99. Classic Scenes: Holy Land
100. American ed. of Poems
101. Quillinan's Poems
102. On a Tour
103. Bentley and Akenside
*104. Presidency of Royal Irish Academy, &c.
*105. Prose-writing: Coleridge, &c.
106. Of his own Poems, &c.
107. In the Sheldonian Theatre
108. New edition of Poems
109 and 110. Death of a Nephew
111. On Death of a young Person
112. Religion and versified Religion
113. Sacred Poetry
114. Visit of Queen Adelaide
115. Ecclesiastical Duties and Revenues Act, &c.
116. Samuel Rogers and Wordsworth
117. An alarming Accident
118. Of Alston and Haydon, &c.
119. Of Peace's Apology for Cathedrals
120. Of Cowper's Task
121. On a Tour
122. Marriage of Dora
123. Letters to Brother
124. Episcopal Church of America: Emerson and Carlyle
125. Old Haunts revisited
126. No Pension sought
127. The Master of Trinity
128. Alston's Portrait of Coleridge
129. Southey's Death
130. Tropical Scenery: Grace Darling
131. Contemporary Poets: Southey's Death, &c.
132. The Laureateship
*133. The same: Landor, &c.
134. Alston: Home Occupations
135. Socinianism
136. Sacred Hymns
137. Bereavements
138. Birthday in America, &c.
139. Class-fellows and School-fellows
140. From Home: Queen, &c.
141. The Laureateship: Tennyson, &c.
142. Poems of Imagination, &c.
143. Of the College of Maynooth, &c.
144. Of the Heresiarch Church of Rome
145. Family Trials
146. Bishop White: Mormonites, &c.
147. Governor Malartie: Lord Rector, &c.
148 and 149. Death of Dora
150. To John Peace, Esq.
151. A Servant's Illness and Death
152. Humility

III. CONVERSATIONS AND PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF WORDSWORTH.

From 'Satyrane's Letters:' Klopstock Personal Reminiscences of the Hon. Mr. Justice Coleridge Recollections of a Tour in Italy, by H.C. Robinson Reminiscences of Lady Richardson and Mrs. Davy Conversations and Reminiscences recorded by the Bishop of Lincoln Reminiscences of the Rev. R.P. Graves On the Death of Coleridge Further Reminiscences and Memorabilia, by Rev. R.P. Graves An American's Reminiscences Recollections of Aubrey de Vere, Esq. From 'Recollections of the Last Days of Shelley and Byron,' by E.J. Trelawny, Esq. From Letters of Professor Tayler Anecdote of Crabbe Later Opinion of Lord Brougham

CRITICAL AND ETHICAL.

I. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE POEMS, INCORPORATING

(a) THE NOTES ORIGINALLY ADDED TO THE FIRST AND SUCCESSIVE EDITIONS. (b) THE WHOLE OF THE I.F. MSS.

NOTE.

On these Notes and Illustrations, their sources and arrangement, &c., see our Preface, Vol. I. The star [*] marks those that belong to the I.F. MSS. G.

1. *_Prefatory Lines_.

'If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven,
Then to the measure of that heaven-born light,
Shine, POET, in thy place, and be content:'--

'Like an untended watch-fire,' &c. (l. 10): These Verses were written some time after we had become resident at Rydal Mount; and I will take occasion from them to observe upon the beauty of that situation, as being backed and flanked by lofty fells, which bring the heavenly bodies to touch, as it were, the earth upon the mountain-tops, while the prospect in front lies open to a length of level valley, the extended lake, and a terminating ridge of low hills; so that it gives an opportunity to the inhabitants of the place of noticing the stars in both the positions here alluded to, namely, on the tops of the mountains, and as winter-lamps at a distance among the leafless trees.

2. *_Prelude to the Last Volume_. [As supra.]

These Verses were begun while I was on a visit to my son John at Brigham, and finished at Rydal. As the contents of this Volume to which they are now prefixed will be assigned to their respective classes when my Poems shall be collected in one Vol., I should be at a loss where with propriety to place this Prelude, being too restricted in its bearing to serve as a Preface for the whole. The lines towards the conclusion allude to the discontents then fomented thro' 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 of the Poet's regard.

I. POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.

3. *_Extract from the Conclusion of a Poem, composed in anticipation of leaving School_.

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

4. Of the Poems in this class, 'The Evening Walk' and 'Descriptive Sketches' were first published in 1793. They are reprinted with some alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their publication.

* * * * *

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

5. *_An Evening Walk. Addressed to a Young Lady_. [III.]

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

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

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

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

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

FOOT-NOTES.

5a. _Intake_ (l. 49).

'When horses in the sunburnt intake stood.'

The word _intake_ is local, and signifies a mountain-enclosure.

6. _Ghyll_ (l. 54).

'Brightens with water-brooks the hollow ghyll.'

Ghyll is also, I believe, a term confined to this country; ghyll and dingle have the same meaning.

7. Line 191.

'Gives one bright glance, and drops behind the hill.'

From Thomson.

8. *_Lines written while sailing in a Boat at Evening_. [IV.]

1789. This title is scarcely correct. It was during a solitary walk on the banks of the Cam that I was first struck with this appearance, and applied it to my own feelings in the manner here expressed, changing the scene to the Thames, near Windsor. This, and the three stanzas of the following poem, 'Remembrance of Collins,' formed one piece; but upon the recommendation of Coleridge, the three last stanzas were separated from the other.

9. _Descriptive Sketches taken during a Pedestrian Tour among the Alps_. [VI.]

DEDICATION.

TO THE REV. ROBERT JONES, FELLOW OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

DEAR SIR,--However desirous I might have been of giving you proofs of the high place you hold in my esteem, I should have been cautious of wounding your delicacy by thus publicly addressing you, had not the circumstance of our having been companions among the Alps seemed to give this dedication a propriety sufficient to do away any scruples which your modesty might otherwise have suggested.

In inscribing this little work to you, I consult my heart. You know well how great is the difference between two companions lolling in a post-chaise, and two travellers plodding slowly along the road, side by side, each with his little knapsack of necessaries upon his shoulders. How much more of heart between the two latter!

I am happy in being conscious that I shall have one reader who will approach the conclusion of these few pages with regret. You they must certainly interest, in reminding you of moments to which you can hardly look back without a pleasure not the less dear from a shade of melancholy. You will meet with few images without recollecting the spot where we observed them together; consequently, whatever is feeble in my design, or spiritless in my colouring, will be amply supplied by your own memory.

With still greater propriety I might have inscribed to you a description of some of the features of your native mountains, through which we have wandered together, in the same manner, with so much pleasure. But the sea-sunsets, which give such splendour to the vale of Clwyd, Snowdon, the chair of Idris, the quiet village of Bethgelert, Menai and her Druids, the Alpine steeps of the Conway, and the still more interesting windings of the wizard stream of the Dee, remain yet untouched. Apprehensive that my pencil may never be exercised on these subjects, I cannot let slip this opportunity of thus publicly assuring you with how much affection and esteem

I am, dear Sir,
Most sincerely yours,
W. WORDSWORTH.

London, 1793.

10. *_Descriptive Sketches_.

1791-2. Much the greatest part of this poem was composed during my walks upon the banks of the Loire, in the years 1791, 1792. I will only notice that the description of the valley filled with mist, beginning 'In solemn shapes,' &c. was taken from that beautiful region, of which the principal features are Lungarn and Sarnen. Nothing that I ever saw in Nature left a more delightful impression on my mind than that which I have attempted, alas how feebly! to convey to others in these lines. Those two lakes have always interested me, especially from bearing, in their size and other features, a resemblance to those of the North of England. It is much to be deplored that a district so beautiful should be so unhealthy as it is.

FOOT-NOTES.

11. _The Cross_. 'The Cross, by angels planted on the aerial rock' (I. 70). Alluding to the crosses seen on the spiry rocks of Chartreuse.

12. _Rivers_. 'Along the mystic streams of Life and Death' (I. 71). Names of rivers at the Chartreuse.

13. _Vallombre_. 'Vallombre, 'mid her falling fanes' (I. 74). Name of one of the valleys of the Chartreuse.

14. _Sugh_. 'Beneath the cliffs, and pine-wood's steady sugh' (I. 358). Sugh, a Scotch word expressive of the sound of the wind through the trees.

15. _Pikes_. 'And Pikes of darkness named and fear and storms' (I. 471). As Schreck-Horn, the pike of terror, Wetter-horn, the pike of storms, &c. &c.

16. _Shrine_. 'Ensiedlen's wretched fane' (I. 545). This shrine is resorted to, from a hope of relief, by multitudes, from every corner of the Catholic world, labouring under mental or bodily afflictions.

17. _Sourd_. 'Sole sound, the Sourd prolongs his mournful cry!' (I. 618.) An insect so called, which emits a short melancholy cry, heard at the close of the Summer evenings, on the banks of the Loire.

18. *_Lines left upon a Seat in a Yew-tree, which stands near the Lake of Esthwaite, on a desolate Part of the Shore, commanding a beautiful Prospect_.[VII.]

Composed in part at school at Hawkshead. The tree has disappeared, and the slip of Common on which it stood, that ran parallel to the lake, and lay open to it, has long been enclosed, so that the road has lost much of its attraction. This spot was my favourite walk in the evenings during the latter part of my school-time. The individual whose habits and character are here given was a gentleman of the neighbourhood, a man of talent and learning, who had been educated at one of our universities, and returned to pass his time in seclusion on his own estate. He died a bachelor in middle age. Induced by the beauty of the prospect, he built a small summer-house on the rocks above the peninsula on which the ferry-house stands. [In pencil here--Query, Mr. Nott?]

This property afterwards past into the hands of the late Mr. Curwen. The site was long ago pointed out by Mr. West in his _Guide_ as the pride of the Lakes, and now goes by the name of 'The Station.' So much used I to be delighted with the view from it, while a little boy, that some years before the first pleasure-house was built, I led thither from Hawkshead a youngster about my own age, an Irish boy, who was a servant to an itinerant conjuror. My motive was to witness the pleasure I expected the boy would receive from the prospect of the islands below, and the intermingling water. I was not disappointed; and I hope the fact, insignificant as it may seem to some, may be thought worthy of note by others who may cast their eye over these notes.

19. _Guilt and Sorrow; or Incidents upon Salisbury Plain_.[VIII.]

ADVERTISEMENT, PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION OF THIS POEM, PUBLISHED IN 1842.

Not less than one-third of the following poem, though it has from time to time been altered in the expression, was published so far back as the year 1798, under the title of 'The Female Vagrant.' The extract is of such length that an apology seems to be required for reprinting it here: but it was necessary to restore it to its original position, or the rest would have been unintelligible. The whole was written before the close of the year 1794, and I will detail, rather as a matter of literary biography than for any other reason, the circumstances under which it was produced.

During the latter part of the summer of 1793, having passed a month in the Isle of Wight, in view of the fleet which was then preparing for sea off Portsmouth at the commencement of the war, I left the place with melancholy forebodings. The American war was still fresh in memory. The struggle which was beginning, and which many thought would be brought to a speedy close by the irresistible arms of Great Britain being added to those of the Allies, I was assured in my own mind would be of long continuance, and productive of distress and misery beyond all possible calculation. This conviction was pressed upon me by having been a witness, during a long residence in revolutionary France, of the spirit which prevailed in that country. After leaving the Isle of Wight, I spent two days in wandering on foot over Salisbury Plain, which, though cultivation was then widely spread through parts of it, had upon the whole a still more impressive appearance than it now retains.

The monuments and traces of antiquity, scattered in abundance over that region, led me unavoidably to compare what we know or guess of those remote times with certain aspects of modern society, and with calamities, principally those consequent upon war, to which, more than other classes of men, the poor are subject. In those reflections, joined with particular facts that had come to my knowledge, the following stanzas originated.

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

20. *_The Female Vagrant_.

I find the date of this is placed in 1792 in contradiction, by mistake, to what I have asserted in 'Guilt and Sorrow.' The correct date is 1793-4. The chief incidents of it, more particularly her description of her feelings on the Atlantic, are taken from life.

21. *_Guilt and Sorrow; or Incidents upon Salisbury Plain_. [VIII.]

Unwilling to be unnecessarily particular, I have assigned this poem to the dates 1793 and 1794; but, in fact, much of the Female Vagrant's story was composed at least two years before. All that relates to her sufferings as a soldier's wife in America, and her condition of mind during her voyage home, were faithfully taken from the report made to me of her own case by a friend who had been subjected to the same trials, and affected in the same way. Mr. Coleridge, when I first became acquainted with him, was so much impressed with this poem, that it would have encouraged me to publish the whole as it then stood; but the Mariner's fate appeared to me so tragical, as to require a treatment more subdued, and yet more strictly applicable in expression, than I had at first given to it. This fault was corrected nearly fifty years afterwards, when I determined to publish the whole. It may be worth while to remark, that though the incidents of this attempt do only in a small degree produce each other, and it deviates accordingly from the general rule by which narrative pieces ought to be governed, it is not therefore wanting in continuous hold upon the mind, or in unity, which is effected by the identity of moral interest that places the two personages upon the same footing in the reader's sympathies. My ramble over many parts of Salisbury Plain put me, as mentioned in the preface, upon writing this poem, and left upon my mind imaginative impressions the force of which I have felt to this day. From that district I proceeded to Bath, Bristol, and so on to the banks of the Wye; when I took again to travelling on foot. In remembrance of that part of my journey, which was in 1793, I began the verses,

'Five years have passed,' &c.

22. _Charles Farish_.

'And hovering, round it often did a raven fly.'

From a short MS. poem read to me when an undergraduate, by my schoolfellow and friend, Charles Farish, long since deceased. The verses were by a brother of his, a man of promising genius, who died young. ['Guilt and Sorrow,' st. ix. l. 9.]

23. *_The Forsaken. Poems founded on the Affections_. [XII.]

This was an overflow from the affliction of Margaret, and excluded as superfluous there; but preserved in the faint hope that it may turn to account, by restoring a shy lover to some forsaken damsel; my poetry having been complained of as deficient in interests of this sort, a charge which the next piece, beginning,

'Lyre! though such power do in thy magic live!'

will scarcely tend to obviate. The natural imagery of these verses was supplied by frequent, I might say intense, observation of the Rydal Torrent. What an animating contrast is the ever-changing aspect of that, and indeed of every one of our mountain brooks, to the monotonous tone and unmitigated fury of such streams among the Alps as are fed all the summer long by glaciers and melting snows! A traveller, observing the exquisite purity of the great rivers, such as the Rhone at Geneva, and the Reuss at Lucerne, where they issue out of their respective lakes, might fancy for a moment that some power in Nature produced this beautiful change, with a view to make amends for those Alpine sullyings which the waters exhibit near their fountain heads; but, alas! how soon does that purity depart, before the influx of tributary waters that have flowed through cultivated plains and the crowded abodes of men.

24. *_The Borderers: a Tragedy_.

Of this dramatic work I have little to say in addition to the short printed note which will be found attached to it. It was composed at Racedown in Dorset, during the latter part of the year 1795, and in the course of the following year. Had it been the work of a later period of life, it would have been different in some respects from what it is now. The plot would have been something more complex, and a greater variety of characters introduced, to relieve the mind from the pressure of incidents so mournful; the manners also would have been more attended to. My care was almost exclusively given to the passions and the characters, and the position in which the persons in the drama stood relatively to each other, that the reader (for I never thought of the stage at the time it was written) might be moved, and to a degree instructed, by lights penetrating somewhat into the depths of our nature. In this endeavour, I cannot think, upon a very late review, that I have failed. As to the scene and period of action, little more was required for my purpose than the absence of established law and government, so that the agents might be at liberty to act on their own impulses. Nevertheless, I do remember, that having a wish to colour the manners in some degree from local history more than my knowledge enabled me to do, I read Redpath's _History of the Borders_, but found there nothing to my purpose. I once made an observation to Sir W. Scott, in which he concurred, that it was difficult to conceive how so dull a book could be written on such a subject. Much about the same time, but a little after, Coleridge was employed in writing his tragedy of _Remorse_; and it happened soon after that, through one of the Mr. Pooles, Mr. Knight, the actor, heard that we had been engaged in writing plays, and, upon his suggestion, mine was curtailed, and (I believe, with Coleridge's) was offered to Mr. Harris, manager of Covent Garden. For myself, I had no hope, nor even a wish (though a successful play would in the then state of my finances have been a most welcome piece of good fortune), that he should accept my performance; so that I incurred no disappointment when the piece was _judiciously_ returned as not calculated for the stage. In this judgment I entirely concurred; and had it been otherwise, it was so natural for me to shrink from public notice, that any hope I might have had of success would not have reconciled me altogether to such an exhibition. Mr. C.'s play was, as is well known, brought forward several years after, through the kindness of Mr. Sheridan. In conclusion, I may observe, that while I was composing this play, I wrote a short essay, illustrative of that constitution and those tendencies of human nature, which make the apparently _motiveless_ actions of bad men intelligible to careful observers. This was partly done with reference to the character of Oswald, and his persevering endeavour to lead the man he disliked into so heinous a crime; but still more to preserve in my distinct remembrance what I had observed of transitions in character, and the reflections I had been led to make, during the time I was a witness of the changes through which the French Revolution passed.

25. The following is the 'short printed note' mentioned in above:

This Dramatic Piece, as noticed in its title-page, was composed in 1795-6. It lay nearly from that time till within the last two or three months unregarded among my papers, without being mentioned even to my most intimate friends. Having, however, impressions upon my mind which made me unwilling to destroy the MS., I determined to undertake the responsibility of publishing it during my own life, rather than impose upon my successors the task of deciding its fate. Accordingly it has been revised with some care; but, as it was at first written, and is now published, without any view to its exhibition upon the stage, not the slightest alteration has been made in the conduct of the story, or the composition of the characters; above all, in respect to the two leading Persons of the Drama, I felt no inducement to make any change. The study of human nature suggests this awful truth, that, as in the trial to which life subjects us, sin and crime are apt to start from their very opposite qualities, so are there no limits to the hardening of the heart, and the perversion of the understanding to which they may carry their slaves. During my long residence in France, while the Revolution was rapidly advancing to its extreme of wickedness, I had frequent opportunities of being an eye-witness of this process, and it was while that knowledge was fresh upon my memory that the Tragedy of the _Borderers_ was composed.

26. Later, this was prefixed: 'Readers already acquainted with my Poems will recognise, in the following composition, some eight or ten lines which I have not scrupled to retain in the places where they originally stood. It is proper, however, to add, that they would not have been used elsewhere, if I had foreseen the time when I might be induced to publish this Tragedy. February 28. 1842.'

II. POEMS REFERRING TO THE PERIOD OF CHILDHOOD.

27. *_My Heart leaps up when I behold_. [I.]

This was written at Grasmere, Town-End, 1804.

28. *_To a Butterfly_. [II.]

Grasmere, Town-End. Written in the Orchard, 1801. My sister and I were parted immediately after the death of our mother, who died in 1777, both being very young. [Corrected in pencil on opposite page--' March 1778.']

29. *_The Sparrow's Nest_, [III.]

The Orchard, Grasmere, Town-End, 1801. At the end of the garden of my Father's house at Cockermouth was a high terrace that commanded a fine view of the river Derwent and Cockermouth Castle. This was our favourite play-ground. The terrace wall, a low one, was covered with closely-clipt privet and roses, which gave an almost impervious shelter to birds that built their nests there. The latter of these stanzas alludes to one of these nests.

30. *_Foresight_, [IV.]

Also composed in the Orchard, Grasmere, Town-End.

31. *_Characteristics of a Child three Years old_. [V.]

Picture of my daughter Catharine, who died the year after. Written at Allan-Bank, Grasmere, 1811.

32. *_Address to a Child_, [VI.]

During a boisterous Winter's Evening. Town-End, Grasmere, 1806.

33. *_The Mother's Return_, [VII.]

Ditto. By Miss Wordsworth [_i.e._ both poems].

34. *_Alice Fell; or Poverty_. [VIII.]

1801. Written to gratify Mr. Graham, of Glasgow, brother of the Author of 'The Sabbath.' He was a zealous coadjutor of Mr. Clarkson, and a man of ardent humanity. The incident had happened to himself, and he urged me to put it into verse for humanity's sake. The humbleness, meanness if you like, of the subject, together with the homely mode of treating it, brought upon me a world of ridicule by the small critics, so that in policy I excluded it from many editions of my Poems, till it was restored at the request of some of my friends, in particular my son-in-law, Edward Quillinan.

35. *_Lucy Gray; or Solitude_. [IX.]

Written at Goslar, in Germany, in 1799. It was founded on a circumstance told me by my sister, of a little girl, who, not far from Halifax, in Yorkshire, was bewildered in a snow-storm. Her footsteps were tracked by her parents to the middle of the lock of a canal, and no other vestige of her, backward or forward, could be traced. The body, however, was found in the canal. The way in which the incident was treated, and the spiritualising of the character, might furnish hints for contrasting the imaginative influences, which I have endeavoured to throw over common life, with Crabbe's matter-of-fact style of handling subjects of the same kind. This is not spoken to his disparagement, far from it; but to direct the attention of thoughtful readers into whose hands these notes may fall, to a comparison that may enlarge the circle of their sensibilities, and tend to produce in them a catholic judgment.

36. *_We are Seven_. [X.] _The Ancient Mariner and Coleridge, &c. &c._ &c.&c.

Written at Alfoxden in the spring of 1798, under circumstances somewhat remarkable. The little girl who is the heroine, I met within the area of Goderich Castle in the year 1793. Having left the Isle of Wight, and crost Salisbury Plain, as mentioned in the preface to 'Guilt and Sorrow,' I proceeded by Bristol up the Wye, and so on to N. Wales to the Vale of Clwydd, where I spent my summer under the roof of the father of my friend, Robert Jones.

In reference to this poem, I will here mention one of the most remarkable facts in my own poetic history, and that of Mr. Coleridge. In the spring of the year 1798, he, my sister, and myself, started from Alfoxden pretty late in the afternoon, with a view to visit Linton, and the Valley of Stones near to it; and as our united funds were very small, we agreed to defray the expense of the tour by writing a poem, to be sent to the _New Monthly Magazine_, set up by Phillips, the bookseller, and edited by Dr. Aikin. Accordingly we set off, and proceeded, along the Quantock Hills, towards Watchet; and in the course of this walk was planned the poem of the 'Ancient Mariner,' founded on a dream, as Mr. Coleridge said, of his friend Mr. Cruikshank. Much the greatest part of the story was Mr. Coleridge's invention; but certain parts I myself suggested; for example, some crime was to be committed which would bring upon the Old Navigator, as Coleridge afterwards delighted to call him, the spectral persecution, as a consequence of that crime and his own wanderings. I had been reading in Shelvocke's _Voyages_, a day or two before, that, while doubling Cape Horn, they frequently saw albatrosses in that latitude, the largest sort of sea-fowl, some extending their wings twelve or thirteen feet. 'Suppose,' said I, 'you represent him as having killed one of these birds on entering the South Sea, and that the tutelary spirits of these regions take upon them to avenge the crime.' The incident was thought fit for the purpose, and adopted accordingly. I also suggested the navigation of the ship by the dead men, but do not recollect that I had anything more to do with the scheme of the poem. The gloss with which it was subsequently accompanied was not thought of by either of us at the time, at least not a hint of it was given to me, and I have no doubt it was a gratuitous after-thought. We began the composition together, on that to me memorable evening: I furnished two or three lines at the beginning of the poem, in particular--

'And listen'd like a three years' child;
The Mariner had his will.'

These trifling contributions, all but one, (which Mr. C. has with unnecessary scrupulosity recorded,) slipt out of his mind, as they well might. As we endeavoured to proceed conjointly (I speak of the same evening), our respective manners proved so widely different, that it would have been quite presumptuous in me to do anything but separate from an undertaking upon which I could only have been a clog. We returned after a few days from a delightful tour, of which I have many pleasant, and some of them droll enough, recollections. We returned by Dulverton to Alfoxden. The 'Ancient Mariner' grew and grew till it became too important for our first object, which was limited to our expectation of five pounds; and we began to talk of a volume which was to consist, as Mr. Coleridge has told the world, of Poems chiefly on natural subjects, taken from common life, but looked at, as much as might be, through an imaginative medium. Accordingly I wrote 'The Idiot Boy,' 'Her Eyes are wild,' &c., and 'We are Seven,' 'The Thorn,' and some others. To return to 'We are Seven,' the piece that called forth this note:--I composed it while walking in the grove of Alfoxden. My friends will not deem it too trifling to relate, that while walking to and fro I composed the last stanza first, having begun with the last line. When it was all but finished, I came in and recited it to Mr. Coleridge and my sister, and said, 'A prefatory stanza must be added, and I should sit down to our little tea-meal with greater pleasure if my task was finished.' I mentioned in substance what I wished to be expressed, and Coleridge immediately threw off the stanza, thus:

'A little child, dear brother Jem.'

I objected to the rhyme, 'dear brother Jem,' as being ludicrous; but we all enjoyed the joke of hitching in our friend James Tobin's name, who was familiarly called Jem. He was the brother of the dramatist; and this reminds me of an anecdote which it may be worth while here to notice. The said Jem got a sight of the 'Lyrical Ballads' as it was going through the press at Bristol, during which time I was residing in that city. One evening he came to me with a grave face, and said, 'Wordsworth, I have seen the volume that Coleridge and you are about to publish. There is one poem in it which I earnestly entreat you will cancel, for, if published, it will make you everlastingly ridiculous.' I answered, that I felt much obliged by the interest he took in my good name as a writer, and begged to know what was the unfortunate piece he alluded to. He said, 'It is called "We are Seven."' 'Nay,' said I, 'that shall take its chance, however;' and he left me in despair. I have only to add, that in the spring of 1841, I visited Goodrich Castle, not having seen that part of the Wye since I met the little girl there in 1793. It would have given me greater pleasure to have found in the neighbouring hamlet traces of one who had interested me so much, but that was impossible, as, unfortunately, I did not even know her name. The ruin, from its position and features, is a most impressive object. I could not but deeply regret that its solemnity was impaired by a fantastic new castle set up on a projection of the same ridge, as if to show how far modern art can go in surpassing all that could be done by antiquity and Nature with their united graces, remembrances, and associations. I could have almost wished for power, so much the contrast vexed me, to blow away Sir ---- Meyrick's impertinent structure and all the possessions it contains.

37. *_The Idle Shepherd Boys; or Dungeon-Ghyll Force: a Pastoral_. [XI.]

Grasmere, Town-End, 1800. I will only add a little monitory anecdote concerning this subject. When Coleridge and Southey were walking together upon the Fells, Southey observed that, if I wished to be considered a faithful painter of rural manners, I ought not to have said that my shepherd boys trimmed their rustic hats as described in the poem. Just as the words had past his lips, two boys appeared with the very plant entwined round their hats. I have often wondered that Southey, who rambled so much about the mountains, should have fallen into this mistake; and I record it as a warning for others who, with far less opportunity than my dear friend had of knowing what things are, and with far less sagacity, give way to presumptuous criticism, from which he was free, though in this matter mistaken. In describing a tarn under Helvellyn, I say,

'There sometimes doth a leaping fish
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer.'

This was branded by a critic of those days, in a review ascribed to Mrs. Barbauld, as unnatural and absurd. I admire the genius of Mrs. Barbauld, and am certain that, had her education been favourable to imaginative influences, no female of her day would have been more likely to sympathise with that image, and to acknowledge the truth of the sentiment.

38. _Foot-note_.

Heading: 'Dungeon-ghyll Force.' _Ghyll_, in the dialect of Cumberland and Westmoreland, is a short and, for the most part, a steep narrow valley, with a stream running through it. _Force_ is the word universally employed in these dialects for waterfall.

39. *_Anecdote for Fathers_. [XII.]

This was suggested in front of Alfoxden. The boy was a son of my friend Basil Montagu, who had been two or three years under our care. The name of Kilve is from a village in the Bristol Channel, about a mile from Alfoxden; and the name of Liswin Farm was taken from a beautiful spot on the Wye. When Mr. Coleridge, my sister, and I had been visiting the famous John Thelwall, who had taken refuge from politics, after a trial for high treason, with a view to bring up his family by the profits of agriculture; which proved as unfortunate a speculation as that he had fled from. Coleridge and he had been public lecturers: Coleridge mingling with his politics theology; from which the other abstained, unless it were for the sake of a sneer. This quondam community of public employment induced Thelwall to visit Coleridge at Nether Stowey, where he fell in my way. He really was a man of extraordinary talent, an affectionate husband, and a good father. Though brought up in the city on a tailor's board, he was truly sensible of the beauty of natural objects. I remember once when Coleridge, he and I were seated together upon the turf, on the brink of a stream in the most beautiful part of the most beautiful glen of Alfoxden, Coleridge exclaimed, 'This is a place to reconcile one to all the jarrings and conflicts of the wide world.' 'Nay,' said Thelwall, 'to make one forget them altogether.' The visit of this man to Coleridge was, as I believe Coleridge has related, the occasion of a spy being sent by Government to watch our proceedings; which were, I can say with truth, such as the world at large would have thought ludicrously harmless.

40. _Rural Architecture_. [XIII.]

These structures, as every one knows, are common among our hills, being built by shepherds, as conspicuous marks, and occasionally by boys in sport. It was written at Town-End, in 1801.

41. _Foot-note: Great How_ (l. 4).

Great How is a single and conspicuous hill, which rises towards the foot of Thirlmere, on the western side of the beautiful dale of Legberthwaite.

42. *_The Pet Lamb: a Pastoral_. [XIV.]

Town-End, 1800. Barbara Lewthwaite, now living at Ambleside (1843), though much changed as to beauty, was one of two most lovely sisters. Almost the first words my poor brother John said, when he visited us for the first time at Grasmere, were, 'Were those two angels that I have just seen?' and from his description I have no doubt they were those two sisters. The mother died in childbed; and one of our neighbours, at Grasmere, told me that the loveliest sight she had ever seen was that mother as she lay in her coffin with her [dead] babe in her arm. I mention this to notice what I cannot but think a salutary custom, once universal in these vales: every attendant on a funeral made it a duty to look at the corpse in the coffin before the lid was closed, which was never done (nor I believe is now) till a minute or two before the corpse was removed. Barbara Lewthwaite was not, in fact, the child whom I had seen and overheard as engaged in the poem. I chose the name for reasons implied in the above, and will here add a caution against the use of names of living persons. Within a few months after the publication of this poem, I was much surprised, and more hurt, to find it in a child's school-book, which, having been compiled by Lindley Murray, had come into use at Grasmere school, where Barbara was a pupil. And, alas, I had the mortification of hearing that she was very vain of being thus distinguished; and in after life she used to say that she remembered the incident, and what I said to her upon the occasion.

43. *_Influence of Natural Objects, &c._ [XVI.]

Written in Germany, 1799.

44. *_The Longest Day_. [XVII.]

1817. Suggested by the sight of my daughter (Dora) playing in front of Rydal Mount, and composed in a great measure the same afternoon. I have often wished to pair this poem upon the 'longest' with one upon the 'shortest' day, and regret even now that it has not been done.

45. *_The Norman Boy_. [XVIII.]

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 my whole 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 mind. ['Prelude.']

* * * * *

III. POEMS FOUNDED ON THE AFFECTIONS.

46. _The Brothers_. [I.]