Volume 8 — 1842
Reading edition
THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE[413]
The following poem was contributed to, and printed in, a volume entitled “La Petite Chouannerie, ou Histoire d’un Collège Breton sous l’Empire. Par A. F. Rio. Londres: Moxon, Dover Street, 1842,” pp. 62, 63. The Hon. Mrs. Norton, Walter Savage Landor, and Monckton Milnes (Lord Houghton), were among the other English contributors to the volume, the bulk of which is in French. It was printed at Paris, and numbered 398 pages, including the title. It was a narrative of “the romantic revolt of the royalist students of the college of Vannes in 1815, and of their battles with the soldiers of the French Empire.” (H. Reed.)—Ed.
Composed (?).—Published 1842
Shade of Caractacus, if spirits love The cause they fought for in their earthly home, To see the Eagle ruffled by the Dove May soothe thy memory of the chains of Rome. These children claim thee for their sire; the breath 5 Of thy renown, from Cambrian mountains, fans A flame within them that despises death, And glorifies the truant youth of Vannes. With thy own scorn of tyrants they advance, But truth divine has sanctified their rage, 10 A silver cross enchased with flowers of France Their badge, attests the holy fight they wage. The shrill defiance of the young crusade Their veteran foes mock as an idle noise; But unto Faith and Loyalty comes aid 15 From Heaven, gigantic force to beardless boys.
GRACE DARLING[414]
Composed 1842.—Published 1845
Wordsworth’s lines on Grace Darling were printed privately, and anonymously, at Carlisle, before they were included in the 1845 edition of his works. A copy was sent to Mr. Dyce, and is preserved in the Dyce Library at South Kensington. Another was sent to Professor Reed (March 27, 1843), with a letter, in which the following occurs: “I threw it off two or three weeks ago, being in a great measure impelled to it by the desire I felt to do justice to the memory of a heroine, whose conduct presented, some time ago, a striking contrast to the inhumanity with which our countrymen, shipwrecked lately upon the French coast, have been treated.”
Edward Quillinan, writing on 25th March 1843, enclosed a copy, adding, “Mr. Wordsworth desires me to send you the enclosed eulogy on Grace Darling, recently composed. He begs me to say that he wishes it kept out of the newspapers, as he has printed it only for some of his friends, and his friends’ friends more peculiarly interested in the subject, for the present. Do not therefore give a copy to any one.”
“Almost immediately after I had composed my tribute to the memory of Grace Darling, I learnt that the Queen and Queen Dowager had both just subscribed towards the erection of a monument to record her heroism, upon the spot that witnessed it.” (Wordsworth to Sir W. Gomm, March 24, 1843.)—Ed.
Among the dwellers in the silent fields The natural heart is touched, and public way And crowded streets resound with ballad strains, Inspired by ONE whose very name bespeaks Favour divine, exalting human love; 5 Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria’s coast, Known unto few but prized as far as known, A single Act endears to high and low Through the whole land—to Manhood, moved in spite Of the world’s freezing cares—to generous Youth— 10 To Infancy, that lisps her praise—to Age Whose eye reflects it, glistening through a tear Of tremulous admiration. Such true fame Awaits her now; but, verily, good deeds Do no imperishable record find 15 Save in the rolls of heaven, where hers may live A theme for angels, when they celebrate The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth Has witness’d. Oh! that winds and waves could speak Of things which their united power called forth 20 From the pure depths of her humanity! A Maiden gentle, yet, at duty’s call, Firm and unflinching, as the Lighthouse reared On the Island-rock, her lonely dwelling-place; Or like the invincible Rock itself that braves, 25 Age after age, the hostile elements, As when it guarded holy Cuthbert’s cell.[415] All night the storm had raged, nor ceased, nor paused, When, as day broke, the Maid, through misty air, Espies far off a Wreck, amid the surf, 30 Beating on one of those disastrous isles— Half of a Vessel, half—no more; the rest Had vanished, swallowed up with all that there Had for the common safety striven in vain, Or thither thronged for refuge.[416] With quick glance 35 Daughter and Sire through optic-glass discern, Clinging about the remnant of this Ship, Creatures—how precious in the Maiden’s sight! For whom, belike, the old Man grieves still more Than for their fellow-sufferers engulfed 40 Where every parting agony is hushed, And hope and fear mix not in further strife. “But courage, Father! let us out to sea— A few may yet be saved.” The Daughter’s words, Her earnest tone, and look beaming with faith, 45 Dispel the Father’s doubts: nor do they lack The noble-minded Mother’s helping hand To launch the boat; and with her blessing cheered, And inwardly sustained by silent prayer, Together they put forth, Father and Child! 50 Each grasps an oar, and struggling on they go— Rivals in effort; and, alike intent Here to elude and there surmount, they watch The billows lengthening, mutually crossed And shattered, and re-gathering their might; 55 As if the tumult, by the Almighty’s will Were, in the conscious sea, roused and prolonged,[417] That woman’s fortitude—so tried, so proved— May brighten more and more! True to the mark, They stem the current of that perilous gorge, 60 Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening heart, Though danger, as the Wreck is near’d, becomes More imminent. Not unseen do they approach; And rapture, with varieties of fear Incessantly conflicting, thrills the frames 65 Of those who, in that dauntless energy, Foretaste deliverance; but the least perturbed Can scarcely trust his eyes, when he perceives That of the pair—tossed on the waves to bring Hope to the hopeless, to the dying, life— 70 One is a Woman, a poor earthly sister, Or, be the Visitant other than she seems, A guardian Spirit sent from pitying Heaven, In woman’s shape. But why prolong the tale, Casting weak words amid a host of thoughts 75 Armed to repel them? Every hazard faced And difficulty mastered, with resolve That no one breathing should be left to perish, This last remainder of the crew are all Placed in the little boat, then o’er the deep 80 Are safely borne, landed upon the beach, And, in fulfilment of God’s mercy, lodged Within the sheltering Lighthouse.—Shout, ye Waves! Send forth a song of triumph. Waves and Winds, Exult in this deliverance wrought through faith 85 In Him whose Providence your rage hath served![418] Ye screaming Sea-mews, in the concert join! And would that some immortal Voice—a Voice Fitly attuned to all that gratitude Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips 90 Of the survivors—to the clouds might bear— Blended with praise of that parental love, Beneath whose watchful eye the Maiden grew Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave, Though young so wise, though meek so resolute— 95 Might carry to the clouds and to the stars, Yea, to celestial Choirs, Grace Darling’s name!
“WHEN SEVERN’S SWEEPING FLOOD HAD OVERTHROWN”
Composed 23rd January 1842.—Published 1842
In 1842 a bazaar was held in Cardiff Castle to aid in the erection of a Church, on the site of one which had been washed away by a flood in the river Severn (and a consequent influx of waters into the estuary of the British Channel) two hundred years before. Wordsworth and James Montgomery were asked to write some verses, which might be printed and sold to assist the cause. They did so. The following was Wordsworth’s contribution.—Ed.
When Severn’s sweeping flood had overthrown St. Mary’s Church, the preacher then would cry:— “Thus, Christian people, God his might hath shown That ye to him your love may testify; Haste, and rebuild the pile.”—But not a stone 5 Resumed its place. Age after age went by, And Heaven still lacked its due, though piety In secret did, we trust, her loss bemoan. But now her Spirit hath put forth its claim In Power, and Poesy would lend her voice; 10 Let the new Church be worthy of its aim, That in its beauty Cardiff may rejoice! Oh! in the past if cause there was for shame, Let not our times halt in their better choice. Rydal Mount, 23rd Jan. 1842.
THE PILLAR OF TRAJAN
The Fenwick note to The Pillar of Trajan mentions that the author’s son having declined to attempt to compete for the Oxford prize poem on “The Pillar of Trajan,” his father wrote it, to show him how the thing might be done. This son—the Rev. John Wordsworth of Brigham—wrote Latin verse with considerable success; and as specimens of the poetic work of Dorothy Wordsworth and of Sarah Hutchinson are included in these volumes, the following Epistola ad Patrem suum, written at Madeira by John Wordsworth in 1844, may be reproduced.—Ed.
I pete longinquas, non segnis Epistola, terras, I pete, Rydaliae conscia saxa lyrae: I pete quà valles rident, sylvaeque lacusque, Quamvis Arctoo paenè sub axe jacent. Parvos quaere Lares, non aurea Tecta, poetae, 5 Qui tamen ingenii sceptraque mentis habet. Quid faciat genitor? valeatne, an cura senilis Opprimat? Ista refer, filius ista rogat. Scire velit, quare venias tu scripta latine? Dic “fugio linguam, magne poeta, tuam! 10 Quem Regina jubet circumdare tempora lauro, Quem verè vatem saecula nostra vocant.” Inde refer gressus responsaque tradita curae Fida tuae, numeris in loca digna senis, Haec ego tradiderim, majoribus ire per altum 15 Nunc velis miserum me mea musa rapit. Solvimus è portu, navisque per aequora currit Neptuni auxilio fluctifragisque rotis. Neptunus videt attonitus, Neptunia conjux, Omnis et aequorei nympha comata chori. 20 Radimus Hispanum litus, loca saxea crebris Gallorum belli nobilitata malis. Haud mora, sunt visae Gades,[419] urbs fabula quondam, Claraque ab Herculeo nomine, clara suo. Hanc magnam cognovit Arabs, Romanus candem, 25 Utraque gens illi vimque decusque tulit. Hora brevis, fragilisque viris! similisque ruina Viribus humanis omnia facta manet Pulchra jaces, olim Carthaginis aemula magnae, Nataque famosae non inhonesta Tyri! 30 En! ratibus navale caret, nautis caret alnus, Mercatorque fugit dives inane Forum. Templa vacant pompâ, nitidisque theatra catervis, Tristis et it foedâ foemina virque via. Segnis in officiis, nec rectus ad aethera miles 35 Pauperis et vestes, armaque juris habet. Sic gens quaeque perit,[420] quando civilia bella Viscera divellunt, jusque fidesque fugit. Auspiciis laetam nostris lux proxima pandit Te, Calpe[421] celsis imperiosa jugis. 40 Urbs munimen habet nullo quassabile bello, Claustrum Tyrrhenis, claustrum et Atlantis, aquis. Undique nam vastae sustentant moenia rupes, Quae torvè in terras inque tuentur aquas. Arteque sunt mirâ sectae per saxa cavernae, 45 Atria sanguineo saeva sacrata Deo. Urbs invicta tamen populis commercia tuta Praebet, et in portus illicit inque Forum. Hic Mercator adest Maurus cui rebus agendis. Ah! nimis est cordi Punica prisca fides; 50 Afer et è mediis Libyae sitientis arenis, Suetus in immundâ vivere barbarie; Multus et aequoreis, ut quondam, Graius in undis, Degener, antiquum sic probat ille genus; Niliacae potator aquae, Judaeus, et omne 55 Litus Tyrrhenum quos, et Atlantis, alit. Hos quàm dissimiles (linguae sive ora notentur) Hos quàm felices pace Britannus habet! Anglia! dum pietas et honos, dum nota per orbem Sit tibi in intacto pectore prisca fides; 60 Dum pia cura tibi, magnos meruisse triumphos, Justaque per populos jura tulisse feros; Longinquas teneat tua vasta potentia terras, Et maneat Calpe gloria magna Tibi! Insula Atlanteis assurgit ab aequoris undis, 65 Insula flammigero semper amata Deo, Seu teneat celsi flagrantia signa Leonis, Seu gyro Pisces interiore petat. “Hic ver assiduum atque alienis mensibus aestas,” Flavus et autumnus frugibus usque tumet. 70 Non jacet Ionio felicior Insula ponto Ulla, nec Eoi fluctibus oceani. Vix, Madeira! tuum nunc refert dicere nomen, Floribus, et Bacchi munere pingue solum. Te vetus haud vanis cumulavit laudibus aetas, 75 O fortunato conspicienda choro! Haec nunc terra sinu nos detinet alma, proculque A Patriae curis, anxietate domi. Sic cepisse ferunt humanae oblivia curae Quisquis Lethaeae pocula sumpsit aquae: 80 Sic semota sequi studiisque odiisque docebas Otia discipulos, docte Epicure, tuos. Sed non ulla dies grato sine sole, nec ullo Fruge carens hortus tempore,[422] fronde nemus;[423] Nec levis ignotis oneratus odoribus aer, 85 Quales doctus equum flectere novit Arabs; Nec caecae quaecumque jacent sub rupe cavernae,[424] Queîs nunquam radiis Phoebus adire potest; Nec currentis aquae strepitus,[425] nec saxa, petensque Mons[426] excelsa suis sidera culminibus; 90 Nec tranquilla quies, rerumque oblivia, ponti Suadebunt iterum solicitare vias! Rideat at quamvis haec vultu terra sereno, Tabescit pravo gens malefida jugo: Dum sedet heu! tristis morborum pallor in ore, 95 Crebraque anhelanti pectore tussis inest. Ambitus et luxus, totoque accersita mundo, Queîs omnis populus quoque sub axe peril; Famae dira sitis, rerumque onerosa cupido, Raptaque ab irato templa diesque Deo, 100 Supplicium non lene suum, poenasque tulerunt; Saepè petis proprio, vir miser, ense latus! Uxor adhuc aegros dilecta resuscitat artus; Anxia cura suis, anxia cura mihi. Altera quodque dies jam roboris attulit, illud 105 Altera dura suis febribus abstulerit. Aurea mens illi, mollique in pectore corda, Et clarum longâ nobilitate genus. Quanquàm saepe trahunt Libycum non[427] aera sanum (Gratia magna Dei), pignora nostra vigent. 110 Iamque vale grandaeve Pater, grandaevaque Mater, Tuque O dilecto conjuge laeta soror! Quaeque pias nobis partes cognata ferebas, Nomina vana cadunt, Tu mihi Mater eras; Ingenioque mari, pietate ornata fideque, 115 Sanguine nulla domûs, semper amore, soror; Tu quoque, care, vale, Frater, quamvis procul absis, Per virides campos, quà petit aequor Eden. Denique tota domus, cunctique valete propinqui, Carmina plura mihi musa manusque negat. 120 Madeirae, Martiis Calendis, 1844.
See also the Carmen Maiis calendis compositum, the Carmen ad Maium mensem, and the Somnivaga,—evidently by the same writer,—in the appendix to the second edition of Yarrow Revisited, 1836.—Ed.