An Evening Walk
Reading edition
Addressed to a Young Lady
Composed 1787-9A—Published 1793
The Poem
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, when most of them were noticed. I will confine myself to one instance: Waving his hat, the shepherd, from the vale, Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale,— The dog, loud 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 expressed, 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 the goose. It was from the remembrance of those 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 schoolboy, 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 island; 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 idealised rather than described in any one of its local aspects.—I. F. cross-reference: return to Footnote A of The Idiot Boy
The title of this poem, as first published in 1793, was An Evening Walk. An epistle; in verse. Addressed to a Young Lady, from the Lakes of the North of England. By W. Wordsworth, B.A., of St. John's, Cambridge. Extracts from it were published in all the collected editions of the poems under the general title of "Juvenile Pieces," from 1815 to 1843; and, in 1845 and 1849, of "Poems written in Youth." The following prefatory note to the "Juvenile Pieces" occurs in the editions 1820 to 1832.
"They are reprinted with some unimportant alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their publication. It would have been easy to amend them, in many passages, both as to sentiment and expression, and I have not been altogether able to resist the temptation: but attempts of this kind are made at the risk of injuring those characteristic features, which, after all, will be regarded as the principal recommendation of juvenile poems."
To this, Wordsworth added, in 1836,
"The above, 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.'"
In May 1794 Wordsworth wrote to his friend Mathews,
"It was with great reluctance that I sent these two little works into the world in so imperfect a state. But as I had done nothing at the University, I thought these little things might show that I could do something."
Wordsworth's notes to this poem are printed from the edition of 1793. Slight variations in the text of these notes in subsequent editions, in the spelling of proper names, and in punctuation, are not noted.—Ed.
'General Sketch of the Lakes— Author's regret of his Youth which was passed amongst them— Short description of Noon— Cascade— Noon-tide Retreat— Precipice and sloping Lights— Face of Nature as the Sun declines— Mountain-farm, and the Cock— Slate-quarry— Sunset— Superstition of the Country connected with that moment— Swans— Female Beggar— Twilight-sounds— Western Lights— Spirits— Night— Moonlight— Hope— Night-sounds— Conclusion'.
The Poem
text variant footnote line number
Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove Through bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove; Where Derwent rests, and listens to the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore; Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads, To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads; Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds, Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland bounds; Where, undisturbed by winds, Winander sleeps 'Mid clustering isles, and holly-sprinkled steeps; Where twilight glens endear my Esthwaite's shore, And memory of departed pleasures, more. Fair scenes, erewhile, I taught, a happy child, The echoes of your rocks my carols wild: The spirit sought not then, in cherished sadness, A cloudy substitute for failing gladness. In youth's keen eye the livelong day was bright, The sun at morning, and the stars at night, Alike, when first the bittern's hollow bill Was heard, or woodcocks roamed the moonlight hill. In thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain, And hope itself was all I knew of pain; For then, the inexperienced heart would beat At times, while young Content forsook her seat, And wild Impatience, pointing upward, showed, Through passes yet unreached, a brighter road. Alas! the idle tale of man is found Depicted in the dial's moral round; Hope with reflection blends her social rays To gild the total tablet of his days; Yet still, the sport of some malignant power, He knows but from its shade the present hour. But why, ungrateful, dwell on idle pain? To show what pleasures yet to me remain, Say, will my Friend, with unreluctant ear, The history of a poet's evening hear? When, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still, Breathed a pale steam around the glaring hill, And shades of deep-embattled clouds were seen, Spotting the northern cliffs with lights between; When crowding cattle, checked by rails that make A fence far stretched into the shallow lake, Lashed the cool water with their restless tails, Or from high points of rock looked out for fanning gales; When school-boys stretched their length upon the green; And round the broad-spread oak, a glimmering scene, In the rough fern-clad park, the herded deer Shook the still-twinkling tail and glancing ear; When horses in the sunburnt intake stood, And vainly eyed below the tempting flood, Or tracked the passenger, in mute distress, With forward neck the closing gate to press— Then, while I wandered where the huddling rill Brightens with water-breaks the hollow ghyll As by enchantment, an obscure retreat Opened at once, and stayed my devious feet. While thick above the rill the branches close, In rocky basin its wild waves repose, Inverted shrubs, and moss of gloomy green, Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between; And its own twilight softens the whole scene, Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine On withered briars that o'er the crags recline; Save where, with sparkling foam, a small cascade, Illumines, from within, the leafy shade; Beyond, along the vista of the brook, Where antique roots its bustling course o'erlook, The eye reposes on a secret bridge Half grey, half shagged with ivy to its ridge; There, bending o'er the stream, the listless swain Lingers behind his disappearing wain. —Did Sabine grace adorn my living line, Blandusia's praise, wild stream, should yield to thine! Never shall ruthless minister of death 'Mid thy soft glooms the glittering steel unsheath; No goblets shall, for thee, be crowned with flowers, No kid with piteous outcry thrill thy bowers; The mystic shapes that by thy margin rove A more benignant sacrifice approve— A mind, that, in a calm angelic mood Of happy wisdom, meditating good, Beholds, of all from her high powers required, Much done, and much designed, and more desired,— Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined, Entire affection for all human kind. Dear Brook, farewell! To-morrow's noon again Shall hide me, wooing long thy wildwood strain; But now the sun has gained his western road, And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad. While, near the midway cliff, the silvered kite In many a whistling circle wheels her flight; Slant watery lights, from parting clouds, apace Travel along the precipice's base; Cheering its naked waste of scattered stone, By lichens grey, and scanty moss, o'ergrown; Where scarce the foxglove peeps, or thistle's beard; And restless stone-chat, all day long, is heard. How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view The spacious landscape change in form and hue! Here, vanish, as in mist, before a flood Of bright obscurity, hill, lawn, and wood; There, objects, by the searching beams betrayed, Come forth, and here retire in purple shade; Even the white stems of birch, the cottage white, Soften their glare before the mellow light; The skiffs, at anchor where with umbrage wide Yon chestnuts half the latticed boat-house hide, Shed from their sides, that face the sun's slant beam, Strong flakes of radiance on the tremulous stream: Raised by yon travelling flock, a dusty cloud Mounts from the road, and spreads its moving shroud; The shepherd, all involved in wreaths of fire, Now shows a shadowy speck, and now is lost entire. Into a gradual calm the breezes sink, A blue rim borders all the lake's still brink; There doth the twinkling aspen's foliage sleep, And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deep: And now, on every side, the surface breaks Into blue spots, and slowly lengthening streaks; Here, plots of sparkling water tremble bright With thousand thousand twinkling points of light; There, waves that, hardly weltering, die away, Tip their smooth ridges with a softer ray; And now the whole wide lake in deep repose Is hushed, and like a burnished mirror glows, Save where, along the shady western marge, Coasts, with industrious oar, the charcoal barge. Their panniered train a group of potters goad, Winding from side to side up the steep road; The peasant, from yon cliff of fearful edge Shot, down the headlong path darts with his sledge; Bright beams the lonely mountain-horse illume Feeding 'mid purple heath, "green rings," and broom; While the sharp slope the slackened team confounds, Downward the ponderous timber-wain resounds; In foamy breaks the rill, with merry song, Dashed o'er the rough rock, lightly leaps along; From lonesome chapel at the mountain's feet, Three humble bells their rustic chime repeat; Sounds from the water-side the hammered boat; And 'blasted' quarry thunders, heard remote! Even here, amid the sweep of endless woods, Blue pomp of lakes, high cliffs and falling floods, Not undelightful are the simplest charms, Found by the grassy door of mountain-farms. Sweetly ferocious, round his native walks, Pride of his sister-wives, the monarch stalks; Spur-clad his nervous feet, and firm his tread; A crest of purple tops the warrior's head. Bright sparks his black and rolling eye-ball hurls Afar, his tail he closes and unfurls; On tiptoe reared, he strains his clarion throat, Threatened by faintly-answering farms remote: Again with his shrill voice the mountain rings, While, flapped with conscious pride, resound his wings! Where, mixed with graceful birch, the sombrous pine And yew-tree o'er the silver rocks recline; I love to mark the quarry's moving trains, Dwarf panniered steeds, and men, and numerous wains: How busy all the enormous hive within, While Echo dallies with its various din! Some (hear you not their chisels' clinking sound?) Toil, small as pigmies in the gulf profound; Some, dim between the lofty cliffs descried, O'erwalk the slender plank from side to side; These, by the pale-blue rocks that ceaseless ring, In airy baskets hanging, work and sing. Just where a cloud above the mountain rears An edge all flame, the broadening sun appears; A long blue bar its ægis orb divides, And breaks the spreading of its golden tides; And now that orb has touched the purple steep Whose softened image penetrates the deep. 'Cross the calm lake's blue shades the cliffs aspire, With towers and woods, a "prospect all on fire"; While coves and secret hollows, through a ray Of fainter gold, a purple gleam betray. Each slip of lawn the broken rocks between Shines in the light with more than earthly green: Deep yellow beams the scattered stems illume, Far in the level forest's central gloom: Waving his hat, the shepherd, from the vale, Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale,— The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted flocks. Where oaks o'erhang the road the radiance shoots On tawny earth, wild weeds, and twisted roots; The druid-stones a brightened ring unfold; And all the babbling brooks are liquid gold; Sunk to a curve, the day-star lessens still, Gives one bright glance, and drops behind the hill. In these secluded vales, if village fame, Confirmed by hoary hairs, belief may claim; When up the hills, as now, retired the light, Strange apparitions mocked the shepherd's sight. The form appears of one that spurs his steed Midway along the hill with desperate speed; Unhurt pursues his lengthened flight, while all Attend, at every stretch, his headlong fall. Anon, appears a brave, a gorgeous show Of horsemen-shadows moving to and fro; At intervals imperial banners stream, And now the van reflects the solar beam; The rear through iron brown betrays a sullen gleam. While silent stands the admiring crowd below, Silent the visionary warriors go, Winding in ordered pomp their upward way Till the last banner of their long array Has disappeared, and every trace is fled Of splendour—save the beacon's spiry head Tipt with eve's latest gleam of burning red. Now, while the solemn evening shadows sail, On slowly-waving pinions, down the vale; And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines; 'Tis pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray Where, winding on along some secret bay, The swan uplifts his chest, and backward flings His neck, a varying arch, between his towering wings: The eye that marks the gliding creature sees How graceful, pride can be, and how majestic, ease. While tender cares and mild domestic loves With furtive watch pursue her as she moves, The female with a meeker charm succeeds, And her brown little-ones around her leads, Nibbling the water lilies as they pass, Or playing wanton with the floating grass. She, in a mother's care, her beauty's pride Forgetting, calls the wearied to her side; Alternately they mount her back, and rest Close by her mantling wings' embraces prest. Long may they float upon this flood serene; Theirs be these holms untrodden, still, and green, Where leafy shades fence off the blustering gale, And breathes in peace the lily of the vale! Yon isle, which feels not even the milk-maid's feet, Yet hears her song, "by distance made more sweet," Yon isle conceals their home, their hut-like bower; Green water-rushes overspread the floor; Long grass and willows form the woven wall, And swings above the roof the poplar tall. Thence issuing often with unwieldy stalk, They crush with broad black feet their flowery walk; Or, from the neighbouring water, hear at morn The hound, the horse's tread, and mellow horn; Involve their serpent-necks in changeful rings, Rolled wantonly between their slippery wings, Or, starting up with noise and rude delight, Force half upon the wave their cumbrous flight. Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys caressed, Haply some wretch has eyed, and called thee blessed; When with her infants, from some shady seat By the lake's edge, she rose—to face the noontide heat; Or taught their limbs along the dusty road A few short steps to totter with their load. I see her now, denied to lay her head, On cold blue nights, in hut or straw-built shed, Turn to a silent smile their sleepy cry, By pointing to the gliding moon on high. —When low-hung clouds each star of summer hide, And fireless are the valleys far and wide, Where the brook brawls along the public road Dark with bat-haunted ashes stretching broad, Oft has she taught them on her lap to lay The shining glow-worm; or, in heedless play, Toss it from hand to hand, disquieted; While others, not unseen, are free to shed Green unmolested light upon their mossy bed. Oh! when the sleety showers her path assail, And like a torrent roars the headstrong gale; No more her breath can thaw their fingers cold, Their frozen arms her neck no more can fold; Weak roof a cowering form two babes to shield, And faint the fire a dying heart can yield! Press the sad kiss, fond mother! vainly fears Thy flooded cheek to wet them with its tears; No tears can chill them, and no bosom warms, Thy breast their death-bed, coffined in thine arms! Sweet are the sounds that mingle from afar, Heard by calm lakes, as peeps the folding star, Where the duck dabbles 'mid the rustling sedge, And feeding pike starts from the water's edge, Or the swan stirs the reeds, his neck and bill Wetting, that drip upon the water still; And heron, as resounds the trodden shore, Shoots upward, darting his long neck before. Now, with religious awe, the farewell light Blends with the solemn colouring of night; 'Mid groves of clouds that crest the mountain's brow, And round the west's proud lodge their shadows throw, Like Una shining on her gloomy way, The half-seen form of Twilight roams astray; Shedding, through paly loop-holes mild and small, Gleams that upon the lake's still bosom fall; Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres pale Tracking the motions of the fitful gale. With restless interchange at once the bright Wins on the shade, the shade upon the light. No favoured eye was e'er allowed to gaze On lovelier spectacle in faery days; When gentle Spirits urged a sportive chase, Brushing with lucid wands the water's face; While music, stealing round the glimmering deeps, Charmed the tall circle of the enchanted steeps. —The lights are vanished from the watery plains: No wreck of all the pageantry remains. Unheeded night has overcome the vales: On the dark earth the wearied vision fails; The latest lingerer of the forest train, The lone black fir, forsakes the faded plain; Last evening sight, the cottage smoke, no more, Lost in the thickened darkness, glimmers hoar; And, towering from the sullen dark-brown mere, Like a black wall, the mountain-steeps appear. —Now o'er the soothed accordant heart we feel A sympathetic twilight slowly steal, And ever, as we fondly muse, we find The soft gloom deepening on the tranquil mind. Stay! pensive, sadly-pleasing visions, stay! Ah no! as fades the vale, they fade away: Yet still the tender, vacant gloom remains; Still the cold cheek its shuddering tear retains. The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread Silent the hedge or steamy rivulet's bed, From his grey re-appearing tower shall soon Salute with gladsome note the rising moon, While with a hoary light she frosts the ground, And pours a deeper blue to Æther's bound; Pleased, as she moves, her pomp of clouds to fold In robes of azure, fleecy-white, and gold. Above yon eastern hill, where darkness broods O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and woods; Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace, Even now she shows, half-veiled, her lovely face: Across the gloomy valley flings her light, Far to the western slopes with hamlets white; And gives, where woods the chequered upland strew, To the green corn of summer, autumn's hue. Thus Hope, first pouring from her blessed horn Her dawn, far lovelier than the moon's own morn, 'Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer The weary hills, impervious, blackening near; Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the while On darling spots remote her tempting smile. Even now she decks for me a distant scene, (For dark and broad the gulf of time between) Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray, (Sole bourn, sole wish, sole object of my way; How fair its lawns and sheltering woods appear! How sweet its streamlet murmurs in mine ear!) Where we, my Friend, to happy days shall rise, 'Till our small share of hardly-paining sighs (For sighs will ever trouble human breath) Creep hushed into the tranquil breast of death. But now the clear bright Moon her zenith gains, And, rimy without speck, extend the plains: The deepest cleft the mountain's front displays Scarce hides a shadow from her searching rays; From the dark-blue faint silvery threads divide The hills, while gleams below the azure tide; Time softly treads; throughout the landscape breathes A peace enlivened, not disturbed, by wreaths Of charcoal-smoke, that o'er the fallen wood, Steal down the hill, and spread along the flood. The song of mountain-streams, unheard by day, Now hardly heard, beguiles my homeward way. Air listens, like the sleeping water, still, To catch the spiritual music of the hill, Broke only by the slow clock tolling deep, Or shout that wakes the ferry-man from sleep, The echoed hoof nearing the distant shore, The boat's first motion—made with dashing oar; Sound of closed gate, across the water borne, Hurrying the timid hare through rustling corn; The sportive outcry of the mocking owl; And at long intervals the mill-dog's howl; The distant forge's swinging thump profound; Or yell, in the deep woods, of lonely hound. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 / 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 / 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 C D E F G H J K L M N P Q R S T U 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 80 85 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 125 130 135 140 145 150 155 160 165 170 175 180 185 190 195 200 205 210 215 220 225 230 235 240 245 250 255 260 265 270 275 280 285 290 295 300 305 310 315 320 325 330 335 340 345 350 355 360 365 370 375 380
Variant 1:
1836
His wizard course where hoary Derwent takes Thro' craggs, and forest glooms, and opening lakes, Staying his silent waves, to hear the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore: Where silver rocks the savage prospect chear Of giant yews that frown on Rydale's mere; Where Derwent stops his course to hear the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs ... 1793 1827
(Omitting two lines of the 1793 text quoted above.)
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Variant 2:
1836
Where, bosom'd deep, the shy Winander peeps Where, deep embosom'd, shy Winander peeps 1793. 1827
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Variant 3:
1836
Fair scenes! with other eyes, than once, I gaze, The ever-varying charm your round displays, Than when, ere-while, I taught, "a happy child," The echoes of your rocks my carols wild: Then did no ebb of chearfulness demand Sad tides of joy from Melancholy's hand; Upon the varying charm your round displays, 1793 1820
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Variant 4:
1820
... wild ... 1793
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Variant 5:
1836
... stars of night, Alike, when first the vales the bittern fills, Or the first woodcocks roam'd the moonlight hills. Alike, when heard the bittern's hollow bill, Or the first woodcocks roam'd the moonlight hill. 1793 1820
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Variant 6:
1820
Return Delights! with whom my road begun, When Life rear'd laughing up her morning sun; When Transport kiss'd away my April tear, "Rocking as in a dream the tedious year"; When link'd with thoughtless Mirth I cours'd the plain, 1793
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Variant 7:
1836
For then, ev'n then, the little heart would beat 1793
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Variant 8:
1836
And wild Impatience, panting upward, show'd Where tipp'd with gold the mountain-summits glow'd. 1793
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Variant 9:
1836
With Hope Reflexion blends her social rays 1793
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Variant 10:
1820
While, Memory at my side, I wander here, Starts at the simplest sight th' unbidden tear, A form discover'd at the well-known seat, A spot, that angles at the riv'let's feet, The ray the cot of morning trav'ling nigh, And sail that glides the well-known alders by.
Only in the edition of 1793.
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Variant 11:
1820
To shew her yet some joys to me remain, 1793
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Variant 12:
1820
... with soft affection's ear, 1793
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Variant 13:
1836
... with lights between; Gazing the tempting shades to them deny'd, When stood the shorten'd herds amid' the tide, Where, from the barren wall's unshelter'd end, Long rails into the shallow lake extend; When, at the barren wall's unsheltered end, Where long rails far into the lake extend, Crowded the shortened herds, and beat the tides With their quick tails, and lash'd their speckled sides; 1793 1820
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Variant 14:
1836
And round the humming elm, a glimmering scene! In the brown park, in flocks, the troubl'd deer ... in herds, ... 1793 1820
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Variant 15:
1820
When horses in the wall-girt intake stood, Unshaded, eying far below, the flood, Crouded behind the swain, in mute distress, With forward neck the closing gate to press; And long, with wistful gaze, his walk survey'd, 'Till dipp'd his pathway in the river shade; 1793
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Variant 16:
1845
—Then Quiet led me up the huddling rill, Bright'ning with water-breaks the sombrous gill; —Then, while I wandered up the huddling rill Brightening with water-breaks the sombrous ghyll, Then, while I wandered where the huddling rill Brightens with water-breaks the sombrous ghyll, 1793 1820 1836
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Variant 17:
1820
To where, while thick above the branches close, In dark-brown bason its wild waves repose, Inverted shrubs, and moss of darkest green, Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between; Save that, atop, the subtle sunbeams shine, On wither'd briars that o'er the craggs recline; Sole light admitted here, a small cascade, Illumes with sparkling foam the twilight shade. Beyond, along the visto of the brook, Where antique roots its bustling path o'erlook, The eye reposes on a secret bridge Half grey, half shagg'd with ivy to its ridge. —Sweet rill, farewel! ... 1793
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Variant 18:
1845
But see aloft the subtle sunbeams shine, On withered briars that o'er the crags recline; Thus beautiful! as if the sight displayed, By its own sparkling foam that small cascade; Inverted shrubs, with moss of gloomy green Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between. Inverted shrubs with pale wood weeds between Cling from the moss-grown rocks, a darksome green, Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine And its own twilight softens the whole scene. And sparkling as it foams a small cascade Illumines from within the impervious shade Below, right in the vista of the brook, Where antique roots, etc. C. MS.
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Variant 19:
1845
Sole light admitted here, a small cascade, Illumes with sparkling foam the impervious shade; 1820
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Variant 20:
1827
... path ... 1793
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Variant 21:
1845
Whence hangs, in the cool shade, the listless swain Lingering behind his disappearing wain. 1820
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Variant 22:
1845
—Sweet rill, ... 1793
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Variant 23:
1820
... and ... 1793
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Variant 24:
1845
And desert ... 1793
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Variant 25:
1820
How pleasant, as the yellowing sun declines, And with long rays and shades the landscape shines; To mark the birches' stems all golden light, That lit the dark slant woods with silvery white! The willow's weeping trees, that twinkling hoar, Glanc'd oft upturn'd along the breezy shore, Low bending o'er the colour'd water, fold Their moveless boughs and leaves like threads of gold; The skiffs with naked masts at anchor laid, Before the boat-house peeping thro' the shade; Th' unwearied glance of woodman's echo'd stroke; And curling from the trees the cottage smoke. Their pannier'd train ... 1793
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Variant 26:
1845
... zephyrs ... 1820
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Variant 27:
This stanza was added in the edition of 1820.
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Variant 28:
1845. This couplet was added in 1845.
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Variant 29:
1845
And now the universal tides repose, And, brightly blue, the burnished mirror glows, 1820
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Variant 30:
1845
The sails are dropped, the poplar's foliage sleeps, And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deeps. This couplet followed l. 127 from 1820 to 1843.
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Variant 31:
1820
Shot, down the headlong pathway darts his sledge; 1793
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Variant 32:
1820
Beside their shelteringi cross of wall, the flock Feeds on in light, nor thinks of winter's shock; Only in the edition of 1793.
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Variant 33:
1820
Dashed down ... 1793
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Variant 34:
1836
... verdant ... 1793
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Variant 35:
1820
Gazed by ... 1793
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Variant 36:
1836
... his warrior head. 1793
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Variant 37:
1836
... haggard ... 1793
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Variant 38:
1836
Whose state, like pine-trees, waving to and fro, Droops, and o'er canopies his regal brow, This couplet was inserted in the editions 1793 to 1832.
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Variant 39:
1820
... blows ... 1793
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Variant 40:
This couplet was first printed in the edition of 1820.
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Variant 41:
1836
Bright'ning the cliffs between where sombrous pine, And yew-trees ... 1793
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Variant 42:
1836
How busy the enormous hive within, 1793
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Variant 43:
1836
... with the ... 1793
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Variant 44:
1836
Some hardly heard their chissel's clinking sound, 1793
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Variant 45:
1836
... th' aëreal ... 1793
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Variant 46:
1815
... viewless ... 1793
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Variant 47:
1836
Glad from their airy baskets hang and sing. 1793
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Variant 48:
1836
Hung o'er a cloud, above the steep that rears 1793
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Variant 49:
1820
It's ... 1793
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Variant 50:
1845
And now it touches on the purple steep That flings his shadow on the pictur'd deep. That flings its image ... And now the sun has touched the purple steep Whose softened image penetrates the deep. 1793 1832 1836
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Variant 51:
1836
The coves ... 1793
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Variant 52:
1836
The gilded turn arrays in richer green Each speck of lawn the broken rocks between; ... invests with richer green 1793 1820
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Variant 53:
1827
... boles ... 1793
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Variant 54:
1827
... in ... 1793
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Variant 55:
1836
That, barking busy 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where he points, the intercepted flocks; 1793
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Variant 56:
1845
The Druid stonesii their lighted fane unfold, ... a burnished ring unfold; 1793 1836
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Variant 57:
1827
... sinks ... 1793
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Variant 58:
1845
In these lone vales, if aught of faith may claim, Thin silver hairs, and ancient hamlet fame; When up the hills, as now, retreats the light, Strange apparitions mock the village sight. In these secluded vales, if village fame, Confirmed by silver hairs, belief may claim; When up the hills, as now, retired the light, Strange apparitions mocked the gazer's sight. ... shepherd's sight. 1793 1820 1836
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Variant 59:
1836
A desperate form appears, that spurs his steed, Along the midway cliffs with violent speed; 1793
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Variant 60:
1836
Anon, in order mounts a gorgeous show Of horsemen shadows winding to and fro; 1793
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Variant 61:
This line was added in 1820.
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Variant 62:
1820
... is gilt with evening's beam, 1793
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Variant 63:
1849
... of the ... 1836
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Variant 64:
1836
Lost gradual o'er the heights in pomp they go, While silent stands th' admiring vale below; Till, but the lonely beacon all is fled, That tips with eve's last gleam his spiry head. . Till, save the lonely beacon, ... 1793 1820
In the edition of 1836 the seven lines of the printed text—205-211—replaced these four lines of the editions 1793-1832.
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Variant 65:
1836
On red slow-waving pinions ... 1793
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Variant 66:
1820
And, fronting the bright west in stronger lines, The oak its dark'ning boughs and foliage twines, 1793
The edition of 1815 omitted this couplet. It was restored in its final form in the edition of 1820.
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Variant 67:
1836
I love beside the glowing lake to stray, How pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray, 1793 1815
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Variant 68:
1836
... to stray, Where winds the road along the secret bay; By rills that tumble down the woody steeps, And run in transport to the dimpling deeps; Along the "wild meand'ring shore" to view, Obsequious Grace the winding swan pursue. ... a secret bay; ... meandering shore" ... 1793 1813 1815
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Variant 69:
1836
He swells his lifted chest, and backward flings His bridling neck between his tow'ring wings; Stately, and burning in his pride, divides And glorying looks around, the silent tides: On as he floats, the silver'd waters glow, Proud of the varying arch and moveless form of snow. ... his towering wings; In all the majesty of ease divides, 1793 1815
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Variant 70:
1845
... her beauty's pride Forgets, unweary'd watching every side, She calls them near, and with affection sweet Alternately relieves their weary feet; 1793
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Variant 71:
1836
Long may ye roam these hermit waves that sleep, In birch-besprinkl'd cliffs embosom'd deep; These fairy holms untrodden, still, and green, Whose shades protect the hidden wave serene; Whence fragrance scents the water's desart gale, The violet, and theiii lily of the vale; . Long may ye float upon these floods serene; Yours be these holms untrodden, still, and green, Whose leafy shades fence off the blustering gale, Where breathes in peace the lily of the vale. 1793 1827
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Variant 72:
1820
Where, tho' her far-off twilight ditty steal, They not the trip of harmless milkmaid feel. 1793
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Variant 73:
1836
Yon tuft conceals your home, your cottage bow'r. Fresh water rushes strew the verdant floor; Yon isle conceals ... 1793 1820
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Variant 74:
1836
Thence issuing oft, unwieldly as ye stalk, Ye crush with broad black feet your flow'ry walk; Thence issuing often with unwieldly stalk, With broad black feet ye crush your flow'ry walk; 1793 1820
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Variant 75:
1820
Safe from your door ye hear at breezy morn, 1793
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Variant 76:
1836
... and mellow horn; At peace inverted your lithe necks ye lave, With the green bottom strewing o'er the wave; No ruder sound your desart haunts invades, Than waters dashing wild, or rocking shades. Ye ne'er, like hapless human wanderers, throw Your young on winter's winding sheet of snow. ... and mellow horn; Involve your serpent necks in changeful rings, Rolled wantonly between your slippery wings, Or, starting up with noise and rude delight, Force half upon the wave your cumbrous flight. 1793 1820
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Variant 77:
1836
Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys caress'd, Haply some wretch has ey'd, and call'd thee bless'd; Who faint, and beat by summer's breathless ray, Hath dragg'd her babes along this weary way; While arrowy fire extorting feverish groans Shot stinging through her stark o'er labour'd bones. —With backward gaze, lock'd joints, and step of pain, Her seat scarce left, she strives, alas! in vain, To teach their limbs along the burning road A few short steps to totter with their load, Shakes her numb arm that slumbers with its weight, And eyes through tears the mountain's shadeless height; And bids her soldier come her woes to share, Asleep on Bunker'siv charnel hill afar; For hope's deserted well why wistful look? Chok'd is the pathway, and the pitcher broke. 1793
In 1793 this passage occupied the place of the six lines of the final text (250-255).
... and called thee bless'd; The whilst upon some sultry summer's day She dragged her babes along this weary way; Or taught their limbs along the burning road A few short steps to totter with their load. The while ... 1820 1832
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Variant 78:
1845
... a shooting star ... 1793
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Variant 79:
1845
I hear, while in the forest depth he sees, The Moon's fix'd gaze between the opening trees, In broken sounds her elder grief demand, And skyward lift, like one that prays, his hand, If, in that country, where he dwells afar, His father views that good, that kindly star; —Ah me! all light is mute amid the gloom, The interlunar cavern of the tomb. In broken sounds her elder child demand, While toward the sky he lifts his pale bright hand, —Alas! all light ... 1793-1832 1836 1836
Those eight lines were withdrawn in 1845.
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Variant 80:
1836
... painful ... 1793
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Variant 81:
1820
The distant clock forgot, and chilling dew, Pleas'd thro' the dusk their breaking smiles to view, Only in the edition of 1793.
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Variant 82:
1836
... on her lap to play Delighted, with the glow-worm's harmless ray Toss'd light from hand to hand; while on the ground Small circles of green radiance gleam around. 1793
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Variant 83:
1836
Oh! when the bitter showers her path assail, And roars between the hills the torrent gale, ... sleety showers ... 1793 1827
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Variant 84:
1827
Scarce heard, their chattering lips her shoulder chill, And her cold back their colder bosoms thrill; All blind she wilders o'er the lightless heath, Led by Fear's cold wet hand, and dogg'd by Death; Death, as she turns her neck the kiss to seek, Breaks off the dreadful kiss with angry shriek. Snatch'd from her shoulder with despairing moan, She clasps them at that dim-seen roofless stone.— "Now ruthless Tempest launch thy deadliest dart! Fall fires—but let us perish heart to heart." 1793
The first, third, and fourth of these couplets were omitted from the edition of 1820. The whole passage was withdrawn in 1827.
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Variant 85:
1820
Soon shall the Light'ning hold before thy head His torch, and shew them slumbering in their bed, Only in the edition of 1793.
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Variant 86:
1820
While, by the scene compos'd, the breast subsides, Nought wakens or disturbs it's tranquil tides; Nought but the char that for the may-fly leaps, And breaks the mirror of the circling deeps; Or clock, that blind against the wanderer born Drops at his feet, and stills his droning horn. —The whistling swain that plods his ringing way Where the slow waggon winds along the bay; The sughv of swallow flocks that twittering sweep, The solemn curfew swinging long and deep; The talking boat that moves with pensive sound, Or drops his anchor down with plunge profound; Of boys that bathe remote the faint uproar, And restless piper wearying out the shore; These all to swell the village murmurs blend, That soften'd from the water-head descend. While in sweet cadence rising small and still The far-off minstrels of the haunted hill, As the last bleating of the fold expires, Tune in the mountain dells their water lyres. Only in the edition of 1793.
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Variant 87:
1845
... of the night; 1793
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Variant 88:
1815
Thence, from three paly loopholes mild and small, Slow lights upon the lake's still bosom fall, 1793
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Variant 89:
1827
Beyond the mountain's giant reach that hides In deep determin'd gloom his subject tides. —Mid the dark steeps repose the shadowy streams, As touch'd with dawning moonlight's hoary gleams, Long streaks of fairy light the wave illume With bordering lines of intervening gloom, 1793
The second and third of these couplets were cancelled in the edition of 1815, and the whole passage was withdrawn in 1827.
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Variant 90:
1836
Soft o'er the surface creep the lustres pale Tracking with silvering path the changeful gale. ... those lustres pale Tracking the fitful motions of the gale. 1793 1815
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Variant 91:
1815
—'Tis restless magic all; at once the brightvi Breaks on the shade, the shade upon the light, Fair Spirits are abroad; in sportive chase Brushing with lucid wands the water's face, While music stealing round the glimmering deeps Charms the tall circle of th' enchanted steeps. —As thro' th' astonished woods the notes ascend, The mountain streams their rising song suspend; Below Eve's listening Star, the sheep walk stills It's drowsy tinklings on th' attentive hills; The milkmaid stops her ballad, and her pail Stays it's low murmur in th' unbreathing vale; No night-duck clamours for his wilder'd mate, Aw'd, while below the Genii hold their state. —The pomp is fled, and mute the wondrous strains, No wrack of all the pageant scene remains, viiSo vanish those fair Shadows, human Joys, But Death alone their vain regret destroys. Unheeded Night has overcome the vales, On the dark earth the baffl'd vision fails, If peep between the clouds a star on high, There turns for glad repose the weary eye; The latest lingerer of the forest train, The lone-black fir, forsakes the faded plain; Last evening sight, the cottage smoke no more, Lost in the deepen'd darkness, glimmers hoar; High towering from the sullen dark-brown mere, Like a black wall, the mountain steeps appear, Thence red from different heights with restless gleam Small cottage lights across the water stream, Nought else of man or life remains behind To call from other worlds the wilder'd mind, Till pours the wakeful bird her solemn strains viiiHeard by the night-calm of the watry plains. —No purple prospects now the mind employ Glowing in golden sunset tints of joy, But o'er the sooth'd ... Only in the edition of 1793.
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Variant 92:
1836
The bird, with fading light who ceas'd to thread Silent the hedge or steaming rivulet's bed, The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread 1793 1815
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Variant 93:
1836
Salute with boding note the rising moon, Frosting with hoary light the pearly ground, And pouring deeper blue to Aether's bound; Rejoic'd her solemn pomp of clouds to fold In robes of azure, fleecy white, and gold, While rose and poppy, as the glow-worm fades, Checquer with paler red the thicket shades. 1793
The last two lines occur only in the edition of 1793.
And pleased her solemn pomp of clouds to fold 1815
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Variant 94:
1836
Now o'er the eastern hill, ... See, o'er ... 1793 1815
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Variant 95:
1836
She lifts in silence up her lovely face; 1793
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Variant 96:
1836
Above ... 1793
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Variant 97:
1815
... silvery ... 1793
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Variant 98:
1815
... golden ... 1793
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Variant 99:
1836
The deepest dell the mountain's breast displays, ... the mountain's front ... 1793 1820
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Variant 100:
1836
The scene is waken'd, yet its peace unbroke, By silver'd wreaths of quiet charcoal smoke, That, o'er the ruins of the fallen wood, Steal down the hills, and spread along the flood. 1793
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Variant 101:
1836
All air is, as the sleeping water, still, List'ning th' aëreal music of the hill, Air listens, as the sleeping water still, To catch the spiritual music of the hill, 1793 1832
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Variant 102:
1836
Soon follow'd by his hollow-parting oar, And echo'd hoof approaching the far shore; 1793
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Variant 103:
1836
... the feeding ... 1793
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Variant 104:
1836
The tremulous sob of the complaining owl; 1793
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Sub-Footnote i:
These rude structures, to protect the flocks, are frequent in this country: the traveller may recollect one in Withburne, another upon Whinlatter.—W. W. 1793.
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Sub-Footnote ii:
Not far from Broughton is a Druid monument, of which I do not recollect that any tour descriptive of this country makes mention. Perhaps this poem may fall into the hands of some curious traveller, who may thank me for informing him, that up the Duddon, the river which forms the aestuary at Broughton, may be found some of the most romantic scenery of these mountains.—W. W. 1793.
This circle is at the top of Swinside, a glen about four miles from Broughton. It consists of 50 stones, 90 yards in circumference; and is on the fell, which is part of the range terminating in Black Combe.—Ed.
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Sub-Footnote iii:
The lily of the valley is found in great abundance in the smaller islands of Winandermere.—W. W. 1793.
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Sub-Footnote iv:
In the 1793 edition this line reads "Asleep on Minden's charnel plain afar." The 'errata', list inserted in some copies of that edition gives "Bunker's charnel hill."—Ed.
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Sub-Footnote v:
Sugh, a Scotch word, expressive, as Mr. Gilpin explains it, of the sound of the motion of a stick through the air, or of the wind passing through the trees. See Burns'
Cottar's Saturday Night
.—W. W. 1793.
The line is in stanza ii., l. 1:
November chill blaws loud, wi' angry sugh
. Ed.
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Sub-Footnote vi:
This long passage occupies, in the edition of 1793, the place of lines 297-314 in the final text given above.—Ed.
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Sub-Footnote vii:
"So break those glittering shadows, human joys"
(
Young
).—W. W. 1793.
The line occurs 'Night V, The Complaint', l. 1042, or l. 27 from the end.—Ed.
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Sub-Footnote viii:
"Charming the night-calm with her powerful song."
A line of one of our older poets.—W. W. 1793.
This line I have been unable to discover, but see Webster and Dekker in 'Westward Hoe', iv. c.
"Charms with her excellent voice an awful silence through all this building."
Ed.
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Footnote A:
See note to the "Juvenile Pieces" in the edition of 1836 (p. 1).—Ed.
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Footnote B:
It may not be irrelevant to mention that our late poet, Robert Browning, besought me—both in conversation, and by letter—to restore this "discarded" picture, in editing 'Dion'.—Ed.
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Footnote C:
These lines are only applicable to the middle part of that lake.—W. W. 1793.
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Footnote D:
In the beginning of winter, these mountains, in the moonlight nights, are covered with immense quantities of woodcocks; which, in the dark nights, retire into the woods.—W. W. 1793.
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Footnote E:
The word 'intake' is local, and signifies a mountain-inclosure.—W. W. 1793.
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Footnote F:
Gill is also, I believe, a term confined to this country. Glen, gill, and dingle, have the same meaning.—W. W. 1793.
The spelling "Ghyll" is first used in the edition of 1820 in the text. In the note to that edition it remains "gill". In 1827 the spelling in the note was "ghyll."—Ed.
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Footnote G:
Compare Dr. John Brown:
Not a passing breeze Sigh'd to the grove, which in the midnight air Stood motionless, and in the peaceful floods Inverted hung.
and see
note
A to page 31.—Ed.
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Footnote H:
This line was first inserted in the edition of 1845. In the following line, the edition of 1793 has
Save that, atop, the subtle ...
Subsequent editions previous to 1845 have
Save that aloft ...
Ed.
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Footnote J:
The reader, who has made the tour of this country, will recognize, in this description, the features which characterize the lower waterfall in the gardens of Rydale.—W. W. 1793.
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Footnote K:
"Vivid rings of green."
Greenwood's Poem on Shooting.—W. W. 1793.
The title is 'A Poem written during a Shooting Excursion on the Moors'. It was published by Cruttwell at Bath in 1787, 4to, pp. 25. The quotation is from stanza xvi., l. 11.—Ed.
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Footnote L:
"Down the rough slope the pondrous waggon rings."
Beattie
.—W. W.
1793. See 'The Minstrel', stanza xxxix., l. 4.—Ed.
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Footnote M:
"Dolcemente feroce."
Tasso
.
In this description of the cock, I remembered a spirited one of the same animal in the
L'Agriculture ou Les Géorgiques Françoises
, of M. Rossuet.—W. W. 1793.
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Footnote N:
I am unable to trace this quotation.—Ed.
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Footnote P:
From Thomson: see Scott's
Critical Essays
.—W. W. 1793.
It is difficult to know to what Wordsworth here alludes, but compare 'The Seasons', "Summer," l. 1467.
and now a golden curve, Gives one bright glance, then total disappears.
Ed.
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Footnote Q:
See a description of an appearance of this kind in Clark's
Survey of the Lakes
, accompanied with vouchers of its veracity, that may amuse the reader.—W. W. 1793.
The passage in Clark's folio volume,
A Survey of the Lakes
, etc., which suggested to Wordsworth the above lines in the
Evening Walk
, is to be found in chapter i. of the second book, p. 55. It gives a weird account of the appearance of horsemen being exercised in troops upon
"Southen-fell side, as seen on the 25th of June 1744 by William Lancaster of Blakehills, and a farm servant, David Strichet: "These visionary horsemen seemed to come from the lowest part of Southen-fell, and became visible just at a place called Knott. They then moved in regular troops along the side of the fell, till they came opposite Blakehills, when they went over the mountain. Then they described a kind of curvilinear path upon the side of the fell, and both these first and last appearances were bounded by the top of the mountain. "Frequently the last, or last but one, in a troop would leave his place, and gallop to the front, and then take the same pace with the rest—a regular swift walk. Thus changes happened to every troop (for many troops appeared) and oftener than once or twice, yet not at all times alike.... Nor was this phenomenon seen at Blakehill only, it was seen by every person at every cottage within the distance of a mile. Neither was it confined to a momentary view, for from the time that Strichet first observed it, the appearance must have lasted at least two hours and a half, viz. from half past seven till the night coming on prevented further view."
This interesting optical illusion—which suggests the wonderful island in the Atlantic, seen from the isles of Aran near Galway, alluded to in the
Chorographical description of West, or H-Ier-Connaught
, of R. O'Flaherty—was caused by the peculiar angle of the light from the setting sun, the reflection of the water of the Solway, and the refraction of the vapour and clouds above the Solway. These aerial and visionary horsemen were being exercised somewhere above the Kirkcudbright shore. It was not the first time the phenomenon had been seen within historic times, on the same fell-side, and at the same time of year. Canon Rawnsley writes to me,
"I have an idea that the fact that it took place at midsummer eve (June 27), the eve of the Feast of St. John, upon which occasion the shepherds hereabout used to light bonfires on the hills (no doubt a relic of the custom of the Beltane fires of old Norse days, perhaps of earlier sun-worship festivals of British times), may have had something to do with the naming of the mountain Blencathara of which Southen-fell (or Shepherd's-fell, as the name implies) is part. Blencathara, we are told, may mean the Hill of Demons, or the haunted hill. My suggestion is that the old sun-worshippers, who met in midsummer eve on Castrigg at the Druid circle or Donn-ring, saw just the same phenomenon as Strichet and Lancaster saw upon Southen-fell, and hence the name. Nay, perhaps the Druid circle was built where it is, because it was well in view of the Demon Hill."
Ed.
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Footnote R:
This is a fact of which I have been an eye-witness.—W. W. 1793.
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Footnote S:
The quotation is from Collins'
The Passions
, l. 60. Compare
Personal Talk
, l. 26.—Ed.
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Footnote T:
Alluding to this passage of Spenser:
... Her angel face As the great eye of Heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in that shady place.
W. W. 1793.
This passage is in
The Fairy Queen
, book I. canto iii. stanza 4.—Ed.
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Footnote U:
Compare Dr. John Brown:
But the soft murmur of swift-gushing rills, Forth issuing from the mountain's distant steep (Unheard till now, and now scarce heard), proclaim'd All things at rest.
This Dr. John Brown—a singularly versatile English divine (1717-1766)—was one of the first, as Wordsworth pointed put, to lead the way to a true estimate of the English Lakes. His description of the Vale of Keswick, in a letter to a friend, is as fine as anything in Gray's
Journal
. Wordsworth himself quotes the lines given in this footnote in the first section of his
Guide through the District of the Lakes
.—Ed.
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cross-reference: return to Footnote G above
Contents