TO I. F.*

THE star which comes at close of day to shine
More heavenly bright than when it leads the morn,
Is friendship's emblem,1 whether the forlorn
She visiteth, or, shedding light benign

Through shades that solemnize Life's calm decline,
Doth make the happy happier. This have we

Learnt, Isabel, from thy society,

Which now we too unwillingly resign

Though for brief absence.

But farewell! the page

Glimmers before my sight through thankful tears,

Such as start forth, not seldom, to approve

Our truth, when we, old yet unchill'd by age,

Call thee, though known but for a few fleet years,
The heart-affianced sister of our love!

RYDAL MOUNT, Feb. 1840.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

1

Bright is the star which comes at eve to shine
More heavenly bright than when it leads the morn,
And such is Friendship, whether the forlorn, &c.

1840.

[I often ask myself what will become of Rydal Mount after our day. Will the old walls and steps remain in front of the house and about

*This and the previous sonnet was addressed to Miss Fenwick, to whom we indirectly owe the invaluable "Fenwick Notes." Were it not that the date is very minutely given, I would believe that they belong to 1841, as Miss Gillies tells me she resided at Rydal Mount during that year, when she painted Mrs Wordsworth's portrait. (See pp. 106 and 107.)—ED.

The small wild Geranium known by that name.-W. W., 1842.

the grounds, or will they be swept away with all the beautiful mosses and ferns and wild geraniums and other flowers which their rude construction suffered and encouraged to grow among them? *— This little wild flower-"Poor Robin "-is here constantly courting my attention, and exciting what may be called a domestic interest with the varying aspects of its stalks and leaves and flowers. † Strangely do the tastes of men differ according to their employment and habits of life. "What a nice well would that be," said a labouring man to me one day, "if all that rubbish was cleared off." The "rubbish" was some of the most beautiful mosses and lichens and ferns and other

wild growths that could possibly be seen. Defend us from the tyranny of trimness and neatness showing itself in this way! Chatterton says of freedom" Upon her head wild weeds were spread," and depend upon it if "the marvellous boy" had undertaken to give Flora a garland, he would have preferred what we are apt to call weeds to garden flowers. True taste has an eye for both. Weeds have been called flowers out of place. I fear the place most people would assign to them is too limited. Let them come near to our abodes, as surely they may, without impropriety or disorder.]

Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
And humbler growths as moved with one desire
Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire,
Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay
With his red stalks upon this sunny day!

And, as his tufts1 of leaves he spreads, content

With a hard bed and scanty nourishment,

Mixed with the green, some shine not lacking power

To rival summer's brightest scarlet flower;

And flowers they well might seem to passers-by
If looked at only with a careless eye;

1

1845.

tuft

1842.

* These things remain comparatively unaltered. Rydal Mount has suffered little in picturesqueness; while the house and grounds have gained in many ways from the inevitable changes of time. -ED.

+ Compare what is said of it in the Memoirs of the Poet, written in 1850, Vol. I. p. 20.-ED.

Flowers or a richer produce (did it suit
The season) sprinklings of ripe strawberry fruit.
But while a thousand pleasures come unsought,
Why fix upon his wealth or want1 a thought?
Is the string touched in prelude to a lay

Of pretty fancies that would round him play
When all the world acknowledged elfin sway?
Or does it suit our humour to commend
Poor Robin as a sure and crafty friend,
Whose practice teaches, spite of names to show
Bright colours whether they deceive or no?—
Nay, we would simply praise the free good will
With which, though slighted, he, on naked hill
Or in warm valley, seeks his part to fill;
Cheerful alike if bare of flowers as now,

Or when his tiny gems shall deck his brow:

Yet more, we wish that men by men despised,
And such as lift their foreheads overprized,
Should sometimes think, where'er they chance to spy
This child of Nature's own humility,

What recompense is kept in store or left

For all that seem neglected or bereft;

With what nice care equivalents are given,

How just, how bountiful, the hand of Heaven.

March 1840.

1 1845.

want or wealth

1842

ON A PORTRAIT OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON UPON THE FIELD OF WATERLOO, BY HAYDON.*

[This was composed while I was ascending Helvellyn in company with my daughter and her husband. She was on horseback, and rode to the 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.]

*

By Art's bold privilege Warrior and War-horse stand
On ground yet strewn with their last battle's wreck;
Let the Steed glory while his Master's hand
Lies fixed for ages on his conscious neck;
But by the Chieftain's look, though at his side
Hangs that day's treasured sword, how firm a check
Is given to triumph and all human pride!
Yon trophied Mound shrinks to a shadowy speck
In his calm presence! Him the mighty deed
Elates not, brought far nearer the grave's rest,
As shows that time-worn face, for he such seed

Has shown as yields, we trust, the fruit of fame

Haydon worked at this picture of Wellington from June to November, 1839. (See his Autobiography, vol. III. p. 108-131.) He writes under date, Sept. 4, 1840:-"Hard at work. I heard from dear Wordsworth, with a glorious sonnet on the Duke and Copenhagen.* It is very fine, and I began a new journal directly, and put in the sonnet. God bless him." The following is part of Wordsworth's letter :

"MY DEAR HAYDON,—We are all charmed with your etching. It is both poetically and pictorially conceived, and finely executed. I should have written immediately to thank you for it, and for your letter and the enclosed one, which is interesting, but I wished to gratify you by writing a sonnet. I now send it, but with an earnest request that it may not be put into circulation for some little time, as it is warm from the brain, and may require, in consequence, some little retouching. It has this, at least, remarkable attached to it, which will add to its value in your eyes, that it was actually composed while I was climbing Helvellyn last Monday.”—ED.

Wellington's war-horse.-ED.

In Heaven; hence no one blushes for thy name,
Conqueror, 'mid some sad thoughts, divinely blest!

1841.

Only two sonnets are known to belong to the year 1841.

[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.]

ALL praise the Likeness by thy skill portrayed ;*

But 'tis a fruitless task to paint for me,

Who, yielding not to changes Time has made,

By the habitual light of memory see

Eyes unbedimmed, see bloom that cannot fade,

And smiles that from their birth-place ne'er shall flee
Into the land where ghosts and phantoms be;

And, seeing this, own nothing in its stead.

1

1842.

Since the mighty deed

Him years have brought far nearer the grave's rest,
He shows that face time-worn. But he such seed
Has sowed that bears, we trust, the fruit of fame
In Heaven.

Copy sent to Haydon.

* Miss Gillies visited Rydal Mount in 1841, at the invitation of the Wordsworths, to make a miniature portrait of the poet on ivory, which had been commissioned by Mr Moon, the publisher, for the purpose of engraving. An engraving of this portrait was published on the 6th of August 1841. The original is now in America. Miss Gillies tells me that the Wordsworths were so pleased with what she had done for Mr Moon that they wished a replica for themselves, with Mrs Wordsworth added. She painted this; and a copy of it, subsequently taken for Miss Quillinan, is still in her possession at Loughrigg Holme. It is to the portrait of Mrs Wordsworth that this sonnet and the next refer.-ED.