The Prose Works of William Wordsworth Part 70

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 dest.i.tution, 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 cla.s.s 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 fict.i.tious 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 subst.i.tute '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_ x.x.xII.

'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.