214. Sonnets XXXIII.-V. ‘Waters.’
Waters (as Mr. Westall informs us in the letter-press prefixed to his admirable views [of the Caves, &c. of Yorkshire]) are invariably found to flow through these caverns.
PART III.
215. Sonnet IV. ‘Fame tells of Groves,’ &c.
Wallachia is the country alluded to.
216. Sonnet VII. ‘Where lively ground,’ &c.
This parsonage was the residence of my friend Jones, and is particularly described in another note.
217. Sonnet IX. ‘A stream to mingle,’ &c.
In this Vale of Meditation [‘Glen Mywr’] 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.
218. Sonnet XI. In the Woods of Rydal.
This Sonnet, as Poetry, explains itself, yet the scene of the incident having been a wild wood, it may be doubted, as a point of natural history, whether the bird was aware that his attentions were bestowed upon a human, or even a living creature. But a Redbreast will perch upon the foot of a gardener at work, and alight on the handle of the spade when his hand is half upon it. This I have seen. And under my own roof I have witnessed affecting instances of the creature’s friendly visits to the chambers of sick persons, as described in the verses to the Redbreast [No. 83]. One of these welcome intruders used frequently to roost upon a nail in the wall, from which a picture had hung, and was ready, as morning came, to pipe his song in the hearing of the invalid, who had been long confined to her room. These attachments to a particular person, when marked and continued, used to be reckoned ominous; but the superstition is passing away.
219. Sonnet XIII. ‘While Anna’s peers,’ &c.
This is taken from the account given by Miss Jewsbury of the pleasure she derived, when long confined to her bed by sickness, from the inanimate object on which this Sonnet turns.
220. Sonnet XV. ‘Wait, prithee wait,’ &c.
The fate of this poor dove, as described, was told to me at Brinsop Court by the young lady to whom I have given the name of Lesbia.
221. Sonnet XVI. ‘Unquiet childhood,’ &c.
The infant was Mary Monkhouse, the only daughter of our friend and cousin Thomas Monkhouse.
222. Sonnet XVII. ‘Such age how beautiful!’ &c.
Lady Fitzgerald as described to me by Lady Beaumont.
223. Sonnet XVIIII. ‘Rotha! my spiritual child,’ &c.
Rotha, the daughter of my son-in-law Mr. Quillinan.
224. The Rotha. ‘The peaceful mountain stream,’ &c.
The river Rotha, that flows into Windermere from the Lakes of Grasmere and Rydal.
225. Sonnet XIX. ‘Miserrimus.’
Many conjectures have been formed as to the person who lies under this stone. Nothing appears to be known for a certainty. ?The Rev. Mr. Morris, a Nonconformist, a sufferer for conscience’ sake; a worthy man, who having been deprived of his benefice after the accession of William III, lived to an old age in extreme destitution, on the alms of charitable Jacobites.
226. Sonnet XX. ‘While poring,’ &c.
My attention to these antiquities was directed by Mr. Walker, son to the itinerant Eidouranian philosopher. The beautiful pavement was discovered within a few yards of the front door of his parsonage, and appeared (from the site in full view of several hills upon which there had formerly been Roman encampments) as if it might have been the villa of the commander of the forces; at least such was Mrs. W.’s conjecture.
227. Sonnet XXI.
‘Chatsworth! thy stately mansion,’ &c.
I have reason to remember the day that gave rise to this Sonnet, the 6th of November 1830. Having undertaken — a great feat for me — to ride my daughter’s pony from Westmoreland to Cambridge, that she might have the use of it while on a visit to her uncle at Trinity Lodge, on my way from Bakewell to Matlock I turned aside to Chatsworth, and had scarcely gratified my curiosity by the sight of that celebrated place before there came on a severe storm of wind and rain, which continued till I reached Derby, both man and pony in a pitiable plight. For myself I went to bed at noon-day. In the course of that journey I had to encounter a storm worse if possible, in which the pony could (or would) only make his way slantwise. I mention this merely to add, that notwithstanding this battering, I composed on pony-back the lines to the memory of Sir George Beaumont, suggested during my recent visit to Coleorton.
228. Sonnet XXII.
‘Tis said that to the brow,’ &c.
This pleasing tradition was told me by the coachman at whose side I sate while he drove down the dale, he pointing to the trees on the hill as he related the story.
229. Sonnet XXIII.
‘Untouched through all severity of cold.’
This was also communicated to me by a coachman in the same way. In the course of my many coach rambles and journeys, which, during the daytime always, and often in the night, were taken on the outside of the coach, I had good and frequent opportunities of learning the character of this class of men. One remark I made, that is worth recording, that whenever I had occasion especially to notice their well-ordered, respectful, and kind behaviour to women, of whatever age, I found them, I may say almost always, to be married men.
230. Sonnet XXIV.
‘Go, faithful Tishart,’ &c.
The six last lines of this sonnet are not written for poetical effect, but as a matter of fact, which in more than one instance could not escape my notice in the servants of the house.
231. Sonnet XXV.
‘Why art thou silent?’
In the month of January [blank], when Dora and I were walking from Town-End, Grasmere, across the vale, snow being on the ground, she espied in the thick though leafless hedge a bird’s-nest half filled with snow. Out of this comfortless appearance arose this Sonnet, which was, in fact, written without the least reference to any individual object, but merely to prove to myself that I could, if I thought fit, write in a strain that poets have been fond of. On the 14th of February in the same year, my daughter, in a sportive mood, sent it as a Valentine under a fictitious name to her cousin C. W.
232. Sonnet XXVI.
‘Haydon! let worthier judges,’ &c.
This Sonnet, though said to be written on seeing the portrait of Napoleon, was in fact composed some time after, extempore, in Rydal Mount. [In pencil — But it was said in prose in Haydon’s studio, for I was present: relate the facts and why it was versified.]
233. Sonnet XXVII.
‘A poet! — He hath put,’ &c.
I was impelled to write this Sonnet by the disgusting frequency with which the word artistical, imported with other impertinencies from the Germans, is employed by writers of the present day. For ‘artistical’ let them substitute ‘artificial,’ and the poetry written on this system, both at home and abroad, will be, for the most part, much better characterised.
234. Sonnet XXVIII.
‘The most alluring clouds,’ &c.
Hundreds of times have I seen hanging about and above the Vale
of Rydal, clouds that might have given birth to this Sonnet; which was thrown off, on the impulse of the moment, one evening when I was returning home from the favourite walk of ours along the Rotha, under Loughrigg.
235. Sonnet XXIX.
‘By Art’s bold privilege,’ &c.
This was composed while I was ascending Helvelyn in company with my daughter and her husband. She was on horseback, and rode to the very top of the hill without once dismounting: a feat which it was scarcely possible to perform except during a season of dry weather, and a guide with whom we fell in on the mountain told us he believed it had never been accomplished before by any one.
236. Sonnet XXXII.
‘All praise the likeness,’ &c.
The picture which gave occasion to this and the following Sonnet was from the pencil of Miss M. Gillies, who resided for several weeks under our roof at Rydal Mount.
237. Sonnet XXXVI.
‘Oh, what a wreck,’ &c.
The sad condition of poor Mrs. Southey put me upon writing this. It has afforded comfort to many persons whose friends have been similarly affected.
238. Sonnet XXXVII.
‘Intent on gathering wool,’ &c.
Suggested by a conversation with Miss F., who along with her sister had during their childhood found much delight in such gatherings for the purpose here alluded to.
239. Sonnet XLII.
Wansfel.
The Hill that rises to the south-east above Ambleside.
240. Sonnet XLIII.
—’a little rural town.’
Ambleside.
VIII. MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND, 1803.
241. Setting out.
Mr. Coleridge, my sister, and myself started together from Town-End, to make a tour in Scotland, August . Poor Coleridge was at that time in bad spirits, and somewhat too much in love with his own dejection, and he departed from us, as is recorded in my sister’s Journal, soon after we left Loch Lomond. The verses that stand foremost among these memorials were not actually written for the occasion, but transplanted from my Epistle to Sir G. Beaumont.
242. To the Sons of Burns after visiting the Grave of their Father.
See, in connection with these verses, two other poems upon Burns, one composed actually at the time, and the other, though then felt, not put into words till several years afterwards [viz. ‘At the Grave of Burns, 1803, Seven Years after his Death (II.);’ and ‘Thoughts suggested the Day following, on the Banks of Nith, near the Poet’s Residence.’ (III.) Another Note in I.F. MSS. is nearly the same as this: viz. To be printed among the Poems relating to my first Tour in Scotland: for illustrations see my Sister’s Journal. It may be proper to add that the second of these pieces, though felt at the time, was not composed till many years after].
243. Ellen Irwin, or the Braes of Kirtle. [v.]
It may be worth while to observe, that as there are Scotch poems on this subject, in the simple ballad strain, I thought it would be both presumptuous and superfluous to attempt treating it in the same way; and accordingly, I chose a construction of stanza quite new in our language; in fact, the same as that of Bürgher’s ‘Leonora,’ except that the first and third lines do not in my stanzas rhyme. At the outset, I threw out a classical image, to prepare the reader for the style in which I meant to treat the story, and so to preclude all comparison. [Note. — The Kirtle is a river in the southern part of Scotland, on the banks of which the events here related took place.]
244. To a Highland Girl. [VI.]
This delightful creature, and her demeanour, are particularly described in my sister’s Journal. The sort of prophecy with which the verses conclude has, through God’s goodness, been realised; and now, approaching the close of my seventy-third year, I have a most vivid remembrance of her, and the beautiful objects with which she was surrounded. She is alluded to in the poem of ‘The Three Cottage Girls,’ among my continental memorials. In illustration of this class of poems, I have scarcely anything to say beyond what is anticipated in my sister’s faithful and admirable Journal.
245. Stepping Westward. [VII.]
While my fellow-traveller and I were walking by the side of Loch Ketterine [Katrine] one fine evening after sunset, in our road to a Hut where, in the course of our Tour, we had been hospitably entertained some weeks before, we met, in one of the loneliest parts of that solitary region, two well-dressed women, one of whom said to us, by way of greeting, ‘What, you are stepping westward?’
246. Address to Kilchurn Castle. [X.]
The first three lines were thrown off at the moment I first caught sight of the ruin from a small eminence by the wayside; the rest was added many years after. [Note. — The tradition is that the Castle was built by a Lady during the absence of her Lord in Palestine.]
247. Rob Roys Grave. [XI.]
I have since been told that I was misinformed as to the burial-place of Bob Roy; if so, I may plead in excuse that I wrote on apparently good authority, namely, that of a well-educated lady, who lived at the head of the Lake, within a mile, or less, of the point indicated as containing the remains of one so famous in that neighbourhood. [Note prefixed. — The history of Rob Roy is sufficiently known; his grave is near the head of Loch Ketterine, in one of those small pinfold-like burial-grounds, of neglected and desolate appearance, which the traveller meets with in the Highlands of Scotland.]
248. Sonnet composed at — — Castle, 1803. [XII.]
The castle here mentioned was Nidpath, near Peebles. The person alluded to was the then Duke of Queensberry. The fact was told me by Walter Scott.
249. Yarrow Unvisited. [XIII.]
See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon the banks of the Yarrow; in particular the exquisite Ballad of Hamilton beginning
‘Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie Bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome Marrow.’
250. The Matron of Jedborough [Jedburgh] and her Husband. [XV.]
At Jedborough, my companion and I went into private lodgings for a few days; and the following Verses were called forth by the character and domestic situation of our Hostess.
251. Sonnet, ‘Fly, some kind Harbinger.’ [XVI.]
This was actually composed the last day of our tour, between Dalston and Grasmere.
252. The Blind Highland Boy. [XVII.]
The story was told me by George Mackreth, for many years parish-clerk of Grasmere. He had been an eye-witness of the occurrence. The vessel in reality was a washing-tub, which the little fellow had met with on the shore of the loch. [Appended Note. — It is recorded in Dampier’s Voyages that a boy, son of the captain of a man-of-war, seated himself in a turtle-shell and floated in it from the shore to his father’s ship, which lay at anchor at the distance of half a mile. In deference to the opinion of a friend, I have substituted such a shell for the less elegant vessel in which my blind Voyager did actually intrust himself to the dangerous current of Loch Leven, as was related to me by an eye-witness.]
IX. MEMORIALS OF A SECOND TOUR IN SCOTLAND, 1814.
253. Suggested by a beautiful Ruin upon one of the islands of Loch Lomond: a place chosen for the retreat of a solitary individual, from whom this Habitation acquired the name of the Brownie’s Cell. [I.]
In this tour my wife and her sister Sara were my companions. The account of the Brownie’s Cell, and the Brownies, was given me by a man we met with on the banks of Loch Lomond, a little above Tarbert, and in front of a huge mass of rock by the side of which, we were told, preachings were often held in the open air. The place is quite a solitude, and the surrounding scenery very striking. How much is it to be regretted that, instead of writing such poems as the ‘Holy Fair,’ and others in which the religious observances of his country are treated with so much levity, and too often with indecency, Burns had not employed his genius in describing religion under the serious and affecting aspects it must so frequently take.
254. Composed at Corra Linn, in sight of Wallace Tower.[II.]
I had seen this celebrated
waterfall twice before. But the feelings to which it had given birth were not expressed till they recurred in presence of the object on this occasion.
255. Effusion in the Pleasure-ground on the Banks of the Braw, near Dunkeld. [III.]
I am not aware that this condemnatory effusion was ever seen by the owner of the place. He might be disposed to pay little attention to it; but, were it to prove otherwise, I should be glad, for the whole exhibition is distressingly puerile.
256. Yarrow Visited.[IV.]
As mentioned in my verses on the death of the Ettrick Shepherd, my first visit to Yarrow was in his company. We had lodged the night before at Traquhair, where Hogg had joined us, and also Dr. Anderson, the editor of the British Poets, who was on a visit at the Manse. Dr. A. walked with us till we came in view of the vale of Yarrow, and being advanced in life he then turned back. The old man was passionately fond of poetry, though with not much of a discriminating judgment, as the volumes he edited sufficiently shew. But I was much pleased to meet with him and to acknowledge my obligation to his Collection, which had been my brother John’s companion in more than one voyage to India, and which he gave me before his departure from Grasmere never to return. Through these volumes I became first familiar with Chaucer; and so little money had I then to spare for books, that, in all probability, but for this same work, I should have known little of Drayton, Daniel, and other distinguished poets of the Elizabethan age and their immediate successors, till a much later period of my life. I am glad to record this, not for any importance of its own, but as a tribute of gratitude to this simple-hearted old man, whom I never again had the pleasure of meeting. I seldom read or think of this poem without regretting that my dear sister was not of the party, as she would have had so much delight in recalling the time when, travelling together in Scotland, we declined going in search of this celebrated stream, not altogether, I will frankly confess, for the reasons assigned in the poem on the occasion.
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