Of that perennial shade, a cloistral place
Of refuge, with an unincumbered floor.
Here, in safe covert, on the shallow snow,
And, sometimes, on a speck of visible earth,
The redbreast near me hopped; nor was I loth
To sympathise with vulgar coppice birds
That, for protection from the nipping blast,
Hither repaired.-A single beech-tree grew
Within this grove of firs! and, on the fork
Of that one beech, appeared a thrush's nest;
A last year's nest, conspicuously built
At such small elevation from the ground
As gave sure sign that they, who in that house
Of nature and of love had made their home
Amid the fir-trees, all the summer long
Dwelt in a tranquil spot. And oftentimes,

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A few sheep, stragglers from some mountain-flock,
Would watch my motions with suspicious stare,
From the remotest outskirts of the grove,-
Some nook where they had made their final stand,
Huddling together from two fears-the fear
Of me and of the storm. Full many an hour
Here did I lose. But in this grove the trees
Had been so thickly planted, and had thriven
In such perplexed and intricate array;
That vainly did I seek, beneath 1 their stems
A length of open space, where to and fro
My feet might move without concern or care;
And, baffled thus, though earth from day to day
Was fettered, and the air by storm disturbed,
I ceased the shelter to frequent,2—and prized,
Less than I wished to prize, that calm recess.

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1

The snows dissolved, and genial Spring returned
To clothe the fields with verdure. Other haunts
Meanwhile were mine; till, one bright April day,
By chance retiring from the glare of noon
To this forsaken covert, there I found

A hoary pathway traced between the trees,
And winding on with such an easy line

Along a natural opening, that I stood

Much wondering how I could have sought in vain1 For what was now so obvious. 2 To abide,

For an allotted interval of ease,

Under my cottage-roof, had gladly come
From the wild sea a cherished Visitant;&
And with the sight of this same path-begun,
Begun and ended, in the shady grove,4

1827.

Much wondering at my own simplicity

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These additional lines appeared only in 1815 and 1820.

3 1845.

To sojourn a short while

1815.

To abide,

Beneath my roof He from the barren seas
Had newly come-a cherished Visitant !

For an allotted interval of ease,
Beneath my cottage roof, had newly come
From the wild sea a cherished Visitant ;
Beneath my cottage roof, had gladly come
had meanwhile come

4 This and the previous line were added in 1827.

1827.

1840.

C.

* In the late Lord Coleridge's copy of the edition of 1836, there is a footnote in Wordsworth's handwriting to the word "meanwhile" which is substituted for "newly." "If newly come, could he have traced a visible path?"-ED.

Pleasant conviction flashed upon my mind 1
That, to this opportune recess allured,

He had surveyed it with a finer eye,

A heart more wakeful; and had worn the track 2

By pacing here, unwearied and alone,*

In that habitual restlessness of foot

That haunts the Sailor measuring 3 o'er and o'er
His short domain upon the vessel's deck,

While she pursues her course 4 through the dreary sea.

When thou hadst quitted Esthwaite's pleasant shore,
And taken thy first leave of those green hills
And rocks that were the play-ground of thy youth,
Year followed year, my Brother! and we two,
Conversing not, knew little in what mould

Each other's mind was fashioned; 5 and at length
When once again we met in Grasmere Vale,
Between us there was little other bond

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Than common feelings of fraternal love.

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But thou, a School-boy, to the sea hadst carried
Undying recollections; Nature there

* Compare Daniel's Hymen's Triumph, ii. 4—
And where no sun could see him, where no eye
Might overlook his lonely privacy;

There in a path of his own making, trod

Bare as a common way, yet led no way
Beyond the turns he made.

ED.

Was with thee; she, who loved us both, she still
Was with thee; and even so didst thou become
A silent Poet; from the solitude

Of the vast sea didst bring a watchful heart

Still couchant, an inevitable ear,

And an eye practised like a blind man's touch.
-Back to the joyless Ocean thou art gone;
Nor from this vestige of thy musing hours
Could I withhold thy honoured name,- -and now
I love the fir-grove 1 with a perfect love.
Thither do I withdraw when cloudless suns
Shine hot, or wind blows troublesome and strong;
And there I sit at evening, when the steep
Of Silver-how, and Grasmere's peaceful 2 lake,
And one green island, gleam between the stems
Of the dark firs, a visionary scene!
And, while I gaze upon the spectacle

Of clouded splendour, on this dream-like sight
Of solemn loveliness, I think on thee,
My Brother, and on all which thou hast lost.
Nor seldom, if I rightly guess, while Thou,
Muttering the verses which I muttered first
Among the mountains, through the midnight watch
Art pacing thoughtfully 3 the vessel's deck

In some far region, here, while o'er my head,

At every impulse of the moving breeze,

The fir-grove murmurs with a sea-like sound,*

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ΙΟΙ

Art pacing to and fro

* Compare the line in Coleridge's Hymn before Sun-rise, in the Vale of Chamouni

Ye pine groves with your soft and soul-like sound.

ED.

Alone I tread this path ;-for aught I know,
Timing my steps to thine; and, with a store
Of undistinguishable sympathies,

Mingling most earnest wishes for the day

When we, and others whom we love, shall meet
A second time, in Grasmere's happy Vale.

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IIO

This wish was not granted; the lamented Person, not long after, perished by shipwreck, in discharge of his duty as Commander of the Honourable East India Company's Vessel, the Earl of Abergavenny.-W. W. 1815.

For the date of this poem in the Chronological Tables given in the editions of 1815 and 1820, Wordsworth assigned the year 1802. But, in the edition of 1836, he assigned it to the year 1805, the date retained by Mr. Carter in the edition of 1857. Captain Wordsworth perished on the 5th of February 1805; and if the poem was written in 1805, it must have been in the month of January of that year. The note to the poem is explicit-"Not long after" he " 'perished by shipwreck," etc. Thus the poem may have been written in the beginning of 1805; but it is not at all certain that part of it at least does not belong to an earlier year. John Wordsworth lived with his brother and sister at the Town-end Cottage, Grasmere, during part of the winter, and during the whole of the spring, summer, and autumn of 1800, William and John going together on foot into Yorkshire from the 14th of May to the 7th of June. John left Grasmere on Michaelmas day (September 29th) 1800, and never returned to it again. The following is Miss Wordsworth's record of that day in her Journal of 1800 :-" On Monday, 29th, John left us. William and I parted with him in sight of Ullswater. It was a fine day, showery, but with sunshine and fine clouds. Poor fellow, my heart was right sad, I could not help thinking we should see him again, because he was only going to Penrith." In the spring of 1801, John Wordsworth sailed for China in the Abergavenny. He returned from this voyage in safety, and the brothers met once again in London. He went to sea again in 1803, and returned to London in 1804, but could not visit Grasmere; and in the month of February 1805-shortly after he was appointed to the command of the Abergavennythe ship was lost at the Bill of Portland, and every one on