Part 3 — 1824
Reading edition
The poems written in 1824 were few. They include two addressed to Mrs. Wordsworth, two or three composed at Coleorton, and a couple of memorial sonnets suggested during a tour in North Wales.—Ed.
TO ——
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
[Written at Rydal Mount. On Mrs. Wordsworth.—I.F.]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."—Ed.
Let other bards of angels sing, Bright suns without a spot; But thou art no such perfect thing: Rejoice that thou art not! [377] Heed not tho' none should call thee fair;[378] 5 So, Mary, let it be If nought in loveliness compare With what thou art to me. True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved 10 Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
FOOTNOTES:
TO ——
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
[Written at Rydal Mount. To Mrs. W.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."—Ed.
O dearer far than light and life are dear, Full oft our human foresight I deplore; Trembling, through my unworthiness, with fear That friends, by death disjoined, may meet no more! Misgivings, hard to vanquish or control, 5 Mix with the day, and cross the hour of rest; While all the future, for thy purer soul, With "sober certainties" of love is blest.[379] That sigh of thine,[380] not meant for human ear, Tells[381] that these words thy humbleness offend; 10 Yet bear me up[382]—else faltering in the rear Of a steep march: support[383] me to the end. Peace settles where the intellect is meek, And Love is dutiful in thought and deed; Through Thee communion with that Love I seek: 15 The faith Heaven strengthens where he moulds the Creed.
FOOTNOTES:
"HOW RICH THAT FOREHEAD'S CALM EXPANSE!"
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
[Written at Rydal Mount. Mrs. Wordsworth's impression is that the Poem was written at Coleorton: it was certainly suggested by a Print at Coleorton Hall.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."—Ed.
How rich that forehead's calm expanse! How bright that heaven-directed glance! —Waft her to glory, wingèd Powers, Ere sorrow be renewed, And intercourse with mortal hours 5 Bring back a humbler mood! So looked Cecilia when she drew An Angel from his station;[384] So looked; not ceasing to pursue Her tuneful adoration! 10 But hand and voice alike are still; No sound here sweeps away the will That gave it birth: in service meek One upright arm sustains the cheek, And one across the bosom lies— 15 That rose, and now forgets to rise, Subdued by breathless harmonies Of meditative feeling; Mute strains from worlds beyond the skies, Through the pure light of female eyes, 20 Their sanctity revealing!
FOOTNOTES:
TO ——
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
[Written at Rydal Mount. Prompted by the undue importance attached to personal beauty by some dear friends of mine.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."—Ed.
Look at the fate of summer flowers, Which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song;[385] And, grieved for their brief date, confess that ours, Measured by what we are and ought to be, Measured by all that, trembling, we foresee, 5 Is not so long! If human Life do pass away, Perishing yet more swiftly than the flower, If we are creatures of a winter's day;[386] What space hath Virgin's beauty to disclose 10 Her sweets, and triumph o'er the breathing rose? Not even an hour! The deepest grove whose foliage hid The happiest lovers Arcady might boast Could not the entrance of this thought forbid: 15 O be thou wise as they, soul-gifted Maid! Nor rate too high what must so quickly fade, So soon be lost. Then shall love teach some virtuous Youth "To draw, out of the object of his eyes,"[387] 20 The while[388] on thee they gaze in simple truth, Hues more exalted, "a refinèd Form," That dreads not age, nor suffers from the worm, And never dies.
FOOTNOTES:
A FLOWER GARDEN, At Coleorton Hall, Leicestershire[389]
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
[Planned by my friend, Lady Beaumont, in connection with the garden at Coleorton.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.
Tell me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold, While fluttering o'er this gay Recess,[390] Pinions that fanned the teeming mould Of Eden's blissful wilderness, Did only softly-stealing hours 5 There close the peaceful lives of flowers? Say, when the moving creatures saw All kinds commingled without fear, Prevailed a like indulgent law For the still growths that prosper here? 10 Did wanton fawn and kid forbear The half-blown rose, the lily spare? Or peeped they often from their beds And prematurely disappeared, Devoured like pleasure ere it spreads 15 A bosom to the sun endeared? If such their harsh untimely doom, It falls not here on bud or bloom. All summer-long the happy Eve Of this fair Spot her flowers may bind, 20 Nor e'er, with ruffled fancy, grieve, From the next glance she casts, to find That love for little things by Fate Is rendered vain as love for great. Yet, where the guardian fence is wound, 25 So subtly are our eyes beguiled We see not nor suspect a bound,[391] No more than in some forest wild; The sight is free as air—or crost[392] Only by art in nature lost. 30 And, though[393] the jealous turf refuse By random footsteps to be prest, And feed[394] on never-sullied dews, Ye, gentle breezes from the west, With all the ministers of hope 35 Are tempted to this sunny slope! And hither throngs of birds resort; Some, inmates lodged in shady nests, Some, perched on stems of stately port That nod to welcome transient guests; 40 While hare and leveret, seen at play, Appear not more shut out than they. Apt emblem (for reproof of pride) This delicate Enclosure shows Of modest kindness, that would hide 45 The firm protection she bestows; Of manners, like its viewless fence, Ensuring peace to innocence. Thus spake the moral Muse—her wing Abruptly spreading to depart, 50 She left that[395] farewell offering, Memento for some docile heart; That may respect the good old age When Fancy was Truth's willing Page; And Truth would skim the flowery glade, 55 Though entering but as Fancy's Shade.
In a letter from Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont, dated "Rydal Mount, Feb. 28" (1824), the following occurs:—
"This garden is made out of Lady Caroline Price's, and your own, combining the recommendations of both. Like you, I enjoy the beauty of flowers, but do not carry my admiration so far as my sister, not to feel how very troublesome they are. I have more pleasure in clearing away thickets, and making such arrangements as produced the Winter Garden, and those sweet glades behind Coleorton Church."—Ed.
FOOTNOTES:
TO THE LADY E. B. AND THE HON. MISS P.
Composed in the Grounds of Plass Newidd,[396] near Llangollen, 1824.
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
[In this Vale of Meditation my friend Jones resided, having been allowed by his diocesan to fix himself there without resigning his Living in Oxfordshire. He was with my wife and daughter and me when we visited these celebrated ladies who had retired, as one may say, into notice in this vale. Their cottage lay directly in the road between London and Dublin, and they were of course visited by their Irish friends as well as innumerable strangers. They took much delight in passing jokes on our friend Jones's plumpness, ruddy cheeks and smiling countenance, as little suited to a hermit living in the Vale of Meditation. We all thought there was ample room for retort on his part, so curious was the appearance of these ladies, so elaborately sentimental about themselves and their Caro Albergo as they named it in an inscription on a tree that stood opposite, the endearing epithet being preceded by the word Ecco! calling upon the saunterer to look about him. So oddly was one of these ladies attired that we took her, at a little distance, for a Roman Catholic priest, with a crucifix and relics hung at his neck. They were without caps, their hair bushy and white as snow, which contributed to the mistake.—I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
A Stream, to mingle with your favourite Dee, Along the Vale of Meditation[397] flows; So styled by those fierce Britons, pleased to see In Nature's face the expression of repose; Or haply there some pious hermit chose 5 To live and die, the peace of heaven his aim; To whom the wild sequestered region owes, At this late day, its sanctifying name. Glyn Cafaillgaroch, in the Cambrian tongue, In ours, the Vale of Friendship, let this spot 10 Be named; where, faithful to a low-roofed Cot, On Deva's banks, ye have abode so long; Sisters in love, a love allowed to climb, Even on this earth, above the reach of Time!
FOOTNOTES:
TO THE TORRENT AT THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE,[398] NORTH WALES, 1824
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
How art thou named? In search of what strange land, From what huge height, descending? Can such force Of waters issue from a British source,[399] Or hath not Pindus fed thee,[400] where the band Of Patriots scoop their freedom out, with hand 5 Desperate as thine? Or come the incessant shocks From that young Stream,[401] that smites the throbbing rocks Of Viamala? There I seem to stand, As in life's morn; permitted to behold, From the dread chasm, woods climbing above woods, 10 In pomp that fades not; everlasting snows; And skies that ne'er relinquish their repose; Such power possess the family of floods Over the minds of Poets, young or old!
FOOTNOTES:
COMPOSED AMONG THE RUINS OF A CASTLE IN NORTH WALES
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Through shattered galleries, 'mid roofless halls, Wandering with timid footsteps[402] oft betrayed, The Stranger sighs, nor scruples to upbraid Old Time, though he, gentlest among the Thralls Of Destiny, upon these wounds hath laid 5 His lenient touches, soft as light that falls, From the wan Moon, upon the towers and walls, Light deepening the profoundest sleep of shade. Relic of Kings! Wreck of forgotten wars, To winds abandoned and the prying stars, 10 Time loves Thee! at his call the Seasons twine Luxuriant wreaths around thy forehead hoar; And, though past pomp no changes can restore, A soothing recompense, his gift, is thine![403]
FOOTNOTES:
ELEGIAC STANZAS
(ADDRESSED TO SIR G.H.B. UPON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER-IN-LAW)
1824[404]
Composed 1824.—Published 1827
[On Mrs. Fermor. This lady had been a widow long before I knew her. Her husband was of the family of the lady celebrated in the Rape of the Lock, and was, I believe, a Roman Catholic. The sorrow which his death caused her was fearful in its character as described in this poem, but was subdued in course of time by the strength of her religious faith. I have been for many weeks at a time, an inmate with her at Coleorton Hall, as were also Mrs. Wordsworth and my sister. The truth in the sketch of her character here given was acknowledged with gratitude by her nearest relatives. She was eloquent in conversation, energetic upon public matters, open in respect to those, but slow to communicate her personal feelings; upon these she never touched in her intercourse with me, so that I could not regard myself as her confidential friend, and was accordingly surprised when I learnt she had left me a legacy of £100, as a token of her esteem. See in further illustration the second stanza inscribed upon her cenotaph in Coleorton church.—I.F.]
One of the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces." In 1827 the title was simply, Elegiac Stanzas, 1824, and the title of the group was then, and in 1832, "Epitaphs and Elegiac Poems."—Ed.
O for a dirge! But why complain? Ask rather a triumphal strain When Fermor's race is run; A garland of immortal boughs To twine[405] around the Christian's brows, 5 Whose glorious work is done. We pay a high and holy debt; No tears of passionate regret Shall stain this votive lay; Ill-worthy, Beaumont! were the grief 10 That flings itself on wild relief When Saints have passed away. Sad doom, at Sorrow's shrine to kneel, For ever covetous to feel, And impotent to bear! 15 Such once was hers—to think and think On severed love, and only sink From anguish to despair! But nature to its inmost part Faith had[406] refined; and to her heart 20 A peaceful cradle given: Calm as the dew-drop's, free to rest Within a breeze-fanned rose's breast Till it exhales to Heaven. Was ever Spirit that could bend: 25 So graciously?[407]—that could descend, Another's need to suit, So promptly from her lofty throne?— In works of love, in these alone, How restless, how minute! 30 Pale was her hue; yet mortal cheek[408] Ne'er kindled with a livelier streak When aught had suffered wrong,— When aught that breathes had felt a wound; Such look the Oppressor might confound, 35 However proud and strong. But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things; Her quiet is secure; No thorns can pierce her tender feet, 40 Whose life was, like the violet, sweet, As climbing jasmine, pure— As snowdrop on an infant's grave, Or lily heaving with the wave That feeds it and defends; 45 As Vesper, ere the star hath kissed The mountain top, or breathed the mist That from the vale ascends. Thou takest not away, O Death! Thou strikest[409]—absence perisheth, 50 Indifference is no more; The future brightens on our sight; For on the past hath fallen a light That tempts us to adore.
In a letter from Mrs. Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont, dated "Rydal Mount, Feb. 25, 1825," she says:—
"We are all much moved by the manner in which Miss Willes has received the verses,—particularly Wm., who feels himself more than rewarded for the labour I cannot call it of the composition—for the tribute was poured forth with a deep stream of fervour that was something beyond labour, and it has required very little correction. In one instance a single word in the 'Address to Sir George' is changed since we sent the copy, viz.: 'graciously' for 'courteously,' as being a word of more dignity."
The following inscription was "copied from the Churchyard of Claines, Sept. 14, 1826," by Dorothy Wordsworth, in a MS. book, containing numerous epitaphs on tombstones, and inscriptions on rural monuments in Cathedrals and Churches, in various parts of the country.
Sacred To the memory of Frances Fermor, Relict of Henry Fermor, Esqre., Of Fritwell, in the County of Oxford, And eldest Daughter of the late John Willes, Esqre., of Astrop, in the county Of Northamptonshire, who departed this life, Dec. 5th, 1824, aged 68 years. I am the way, the truth, and The life. Whoso cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.—Ed.
FOOTNOTES:
CENOTAPH
In affectionate remembrance of Frances Fermor, whose remains are deposited in the church of Claines, near Worcester, this stone is erected by her sister, Dame Margaret, wife of Sir George Beaumont, Bart., who, feeling not less than the love of a brother for the deceased, commends this memorial to the care of his heirs and successors in the possession of this place.
Composed 1824.—Published 1842
[See "Elegiac Stanzas. (Addressed to Sir G.H.B., upon the death of his sister-in-law.)"—I.F.]
One of the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."—Ed.
By vain affections unenthralled, Though resolute when duty called To meet the world's broad eye, Pure as the holiest cloistered nun That ever feared the tempting sun, 5 Did Fermor live and die. This Tablet, hallowed by her name,[410] One heart-relieving tear may claim; But if the pensive gloom Of fond regret be still thy choice, 10 Exalt thy spirit, hear the voice Of Jesus from her tomb!
"I am the way, the truth, and the life."
In the letter to Lady Beaumont, referred to in the notes, the title of this poem is "Inscription in the Church of Coleorton," and a footnote is added, "Say, to the left of the vista, within the thicket, below the churchyard wall.—M. W."
Mrs. Wordsworth also says, "To fit the lines, intended for an urn, for a Monument, W. has altered the closing stanza, which (though they are not what he would have produced had he first cast them with a view to the Church) he hopes you will not disapprove."—Ed.