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The impatient Merchant, wondering, waits in vain,
And Mecca saddens at the long delay."

TO CHARLES LAMB, ESQ.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

THOMSON.†

When I sent you, a few weeks ago, the Tale of Peter Bell, you asked "why THE WAGGONER was not added?"-To say the truth,-from the higher tone of imagination, and the deeper touches of passion aimed at in the former, I apprehended, this little Piece could not accompany it without disadvantage. In the year 1806, if I am not mistaken, THE WAGGONER was read to you in manuscript; and, as you have remembered it for so long a time, I am the more encouraged to hope, that, since the localities on which it partly depends did not prevent its being interesting to you, it may prove acceptable to others. Being therefore in some measure the cause of its present appearance, you must allow me the gratification of inscribing it to you; in acknowledgment of the pleasure I have derived from your Writings, and of the high esteem with which I am Very truly yours,

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

RYDAL MOUNT, May 20th, 1819.

CANTO FIRST

'TIS spent this burning day of June!

Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing;
The buzzing dor-hawk, round and round, is wheeling,—

*The title page of the edition of 1819 runs as follows: The Waggoner, A Poem. To which are added, Sonnets. By William Wordsworth.

"What's in a NAME?"

ແ Brutus will start a Spirit

London, etc. etc., 1819.-ED.

as soon as Cæsar!"

† See The Seasons (Summer), ll. 977-79.-ED.

That solitary bird

Is all that can be heard 1

In silence deeper far than that of deepest noon!

Confiding Glow-worms, 'tis a night
Propitious to your earth-born light!
But, where the scattered stars are seen
In hazy straits the clouds between,
Each, in his station twinkling not,
Seems changed into a pallid spot.2

1 1819.

The Night-hawk is singing his frog-like tune,
Twirling his watchman's rattle about—

The dor-hawk, solitary bird,

1805. MS.

Round the dim crags on heavy pinions wheeling,
Buzzes incessantly, a tiresome tune ;

That constant voice is all that can be heard

*

1820.

on heavy pinions wheeling, With untired voice sings an unvaried tune; Those burring notes are all that can be heard

1836.

The text of 1845 returns to the first version of 1819.

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And shine in quietness secure,

On the mossy bank by the cottage door,

As safe as on the loneliest moor.

In the play, or on the hill,

Everything is hushed and still ;

The clouds show here and there a spot

Of a star that twinkles not,

The air as in

From a MS. copy of the poem in Henry Crabb Robinson's

Diary, etc.

Now that the children's busiest schemes

Do all lie buried in blank sleep,

Or only live in stirring dreams,

The glow-worms fearless watch may keep;
Rich prize as their bright lamps would be,

* See Wordsworth's note, p. 109.-ED.

1812.

The mountains against heaven's grave weight
Rise up, and grow to wondrous height.1

The air, as in a lion's den,

Is close and hot ;-and now and then
Comes a tired 2 and sultry breeze
With a haunting and a panting,
Like the stifling of disease;
But the dews 3 allay the heat,

And the silence makes it sweet.

Hush, there is some one on the stir!
'Tis Benjamin the Waggoner;
Who long hath trod this toilsome way,
Companion of the night and day.
That far-off tinkling's drowsy cheer,
Mix'd with a faint yet grating sound
In a moment lost and found,
The Wain announces-by whose side

They shine, a quiet company,
On mossy bank by cottage-door,
As safe as on the loneliest moor.
In hazy straits the clouds between,
And in their stations twinkling not,
Some thinly-sprinkled stars are seen,
Each changed into a pallid spot.

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1836.

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In the editions of 1819 to 1832, these two lines follow the line "Like the stifling of disease."

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Along the banks of Rydal Mere
He paces on, a trusty Guide,—
Listen! you can scarcely hear!
Hither he his course is bending ;-
Now he leaves the lower ground,
And up the craggy hill ascending
Many a stop and stay he makes,
Many a breathing-fit he takes ;—1
Steep the way and wearisome,

Yet all the while his whip is dumb!

The Horses have worked with right good-will,

And so 2 have gained the top of the hill;
He was patient, they were strong,

And now they smoothly glide along,
Recovering 3 breath, and pleased to win
The praises of mild Benjamin.

Heaven shield him from mishap and snare !
But why so early with this prayer?

39

45

Is it for threatenings in the sky ?

Or for some other danger nigh?

No; none is near him yet, though he

50

Be one of much infirmity; 4

For at the bottom of the brow,

Where once the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH

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Offered a greeting of good ale

To all who entered Grasmere Vale;

And called on him who must depart

To leave it with a jovial heart;

There, where the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH
Once hung, a Poet harbours now,

A simple water-drinking Bard ;

Why need our Hero then (though frail
His best resolves) be on his guard?
He marches by, secure and bold;
Yet while he thinks on times of old,

It seems that all looks wondrous cold;

He shrugs his shoulders, shakes his head,
And, for the honest folk within,
It is a doubt with Benjamin
Whether they be alive or dead!

Here is no danger,—none at all!
Beyond his wish he walks secure ;1
But pass a mile-and then for trial,-
Then for the pride of self-denial ;
If he resist that tempting door,

Which with such friendly voice will call;

If he resist those casement panes,

And that bright gleam which thence will fall

Upon his Leaders' bells and manes,

Inviting him with cheerful lure:

For still, though all be dark elsewhere,
Some shining notice will be there

Of open house and ready fare.

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60

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70

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The place to Benjamin right well 2

Is known, and by as strong a spell

As used to be that sign of love

85

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