His heart was cloven; and full oft he prayed,
In blind despair, that God would take them all.
-But suddenly, as if in one kind moment
To encourage and reprove, a gleam of light
Broke from the very bosom of that cloud
Which darkened the whole prospect of his days.
For He, who now possessed the joyless right

1230

To force the Bondsman from his house and lands,
In pity, and by admiration urged

1235

Of his unmurmuring and considerate mind
Meekly submissive to the law's decree,
Lightened the penalty with liberal hand.

-The desolate Father raised his head, and looked
On the wide world in hope. Within these walls, 1240
In course of time was solemnized the vow

Whereby a virtuous Woman, of grave years
And of prudential habits, undertook
The sacred office of a wife to him,
Of Mother to his helpless family.

1245

-Nor did she fail, in nothing did she fail,
Through various exercise of twice ten years,
Save in some partial fondness for that Child
Which at the birth she had received, the Babe
Whose heart had known no Mother but herself.
-By mutual efforts; by united hopes ;
By daily-growing help of boy and girl,

1250

Trained early to participate that zeal

Of industry, which runs before the day

And lingers after it; by strong restraint

Of an economy which did not check

1255

The heart's more generous motions tow'rds themselves
Or to their neighbours; and by trust in God;
This Pair insensibly subdued the fears

And troubles that beset their life: and thus
Did the good Father and his second Mate
Redeem at length their plot of smiling fields.
These, at this day, the eldest Son retains :
The younger Offspring, through the busy world,

1260

Have all been scattered wide, by various fates;

1265

But each departed from the native Vale,

In beauty flourishing, and moral worth."

Book Seventh

THE CHURCH-YARD AMONG THE MOUNTAINSContinued

ARGUMENT

Impression of these Narratives upon the Author's mind—Pastor invited to give account of certain Graves that lie apartClergyman and his Family-Fortunate influence of change of situation Activity in extreme old age-Another Clergyman, a character of resolute Virtue-Lamentations over mis-directed applause-Instance of less exalted excellence in a deaf man-Elevated character of a blind man—. -Reflection upon Blindness—Interrupted by a Peasant who passes—his animal cheerfulness and careless vivacity-He occasions a digression on the fall of beautiful and interesting Trees—A female Infant's Grave-Joy at her Birth-Sorrow at her Departure-A youthful Peasant—his patriotic enthusiasm and distinguished qualities—his1 untimely death—Exultation of the Wanderer, as a patriot, in this Picture-Solitary how affected-Monument of a Knight-Traditions concerning him-Peroration of the Wanderer on the transitoriness of things and the revolutions of society-Hints at his own past Calling-Thanks the Pastor,

WHILE thus from theme to theme the Historian passed,
The words he uttered, and the scene that lay
Before our eyes, awakened in my mind
Vivid remembrance of those long-past hours;
When, in the hollow of some shadowy vale,
(What time the splendour of the setting sun

1 1836.

his patriotic enthusiasm—distinguished qualities—and

5

Lay beautiful on Snowdon's sovereign brow,1
On Cader Idris, or huge Penmanmaur)

A wandering Youth, I listened with delight

To pastoral melody or warlike air,*

Drawn from the chords of the ancient British harp

By some accomplished Master, while he sate
Amid the quiet of the green recess,

And there did inexhaustibly dispense
An interchange of soft or solemn tunes,
Tender or blithe; now, as the varying mood
Of his own spirit urged,—now, as a voice
From youth or maiden, or some honoured chief
Of his compatriot villagers (that hung
Around him, drinking in the impassioned notes
Of the time-hallowed minstrelsy) required
For their heart's ease or pleasure.
Were they, to seize and occupy the sense;
But to a higher mark than song can reach
Rose this pure eloquence. And, when the stream
Which overflowed the soul was passed away,
A consciousness remained that it had left,
Deposited upon the silent shore

Strains of power

Of memory, images and precious thoughts,
That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.

"These grassy heaps lie amicably close,"
Said I, "like surges heaving in the wind
Along 2 the surface of a mountain pool :
Whence comes it, then, that yonder we behold
Five graves, and only five, that rise together

IO

15

20

25

30

35

* In the end of May and in June 1791, Wordsworth went with his friend Jones on a pedestrian tour in Wales. -ED.

Unsociably sequestered, and encroaching 1

On the smooth play-ground of the village-school ? "*

The Vicar answered,- "No disdainful pride In them who rest beneath, nor any course Of strange or tragic accident, hath helped To place those hillocks in that lonely guise. -Once more look forth, and follow with your sight The length of road that 2 from yon mountain's base Through bare enclosures stretches, 'till its line Is lost within 3 a little tuft of trees; † Then, reappearing in a moment, quits The cultured fields; and up the heathy waste, Mounts, as you see, in mazes serpentine, Led towards an easy outlet of the vale. ‡ That little shady spot, that sylvan tuft, By which the road is hidden, also hides A cottage from our view; though I discern. (Ye scarcely can) amid its sheltering trees The smokeless chimney-top.

40

45

50

Note the exactness of the reference to the "playground of the villageschool." It is described as "smooth" because it had no graves in it at that time. "The school," writes Dr. Cradock, "was then, and long afterwards, held at the house abutting the Lichgate, and the children had no playground but the churchyard. The portion of the ground nearest the school was not used for burial, until the want of room made it necessary to encroach on it. The oldest tombstone bears the date of 1777."-ED.

This "tuft of trees" is still standing (1896).-ED.

The road "up the heathy waste," and mounting "in mazes serpentine," is the Keswick road over Dunmail Raise, the "easy outlet of the vale."-ED.

"All unembowered

And naked stood that lowly Parsonage (For such in truth it is, and appertains

55

To a small Chapel in the vale beyond)
When hither came its last Inhabitant.*

Rough and forbidding were the choicest roads

By which our northern wilds could then be crossed; 60 And into most of these secluded vales 1

Was no access for wain, heavy or light.

So, at his dwelling-place the Priest arrived

With store of household goods, in panniers slung
On sturdy horses graced with jingling bells,
And on the back of more ignoble beast;
That, with like burthen of effects most prized
Or easiest carried, closed the motley train.
Young was I then, a school-boy of eight years;
But still, methinks, I see them as they passed
In order, drawing toward 2 their wished-for home.
-Rocked by the motion of a trusty ass
Two ruddy children hung, a well-poised freight,
Each in his basket nodding drowsily;

65

70

Their bonnets, I remember, wreathed with flowers, 75 Which told it was the pleasant month of June;

* The cottage in which the parson of Wytheburn then lived still stands on the right or eastern side of the road, as you ascend the Raise, beyond the Swan Inn. It abuts on the public road about three hundred yards beyond the bridge over Tongue Ghyll beck. "The Clergyman and his family described at the beginning of the seventh book were, during many years, our principal associates in the vale of Grasmere, unless I were to except our very nearest neighbours. ... With the single exception of the particulars of their journey to Grasmere-which, however, was exactly copied from real life in another instance-the whole that I have said of them is as faithful to the truth as words can make it." (I. F.)-ED.