Wherefore, bold as day, the Murderer Back again to England steered. But silent and by stealth he came, And at an hour which nobody could name. None could tell if it were night-time, Night or day, at even or morn; No one's eye had seen him enter, And bright the Lady is who shares his bed. Likewise he had sons and daughters; And, as good men do, he sate At his board by these surrounded, And while thus in open day Once he sate, as old books say, A blast was uttered from the Horn, Where by the Castle-gate it hung forlorn. Hubert! though the blast be blown He is helpless and alone : Thou hast a dungeon, speak the word! And there he may be lodged, and thou be Lord. Speak astounded Hubert cannot ; And, if power to speak he had, All are daunted, all the household. Living man, it must be he! Thus Hubert thought in his dismay, Long and long was he unheard of: Then in a convent went to hide But Sir Eustace, whom good angels Sounded the Horn which they alone could sound. The following note is appended to the editions, from 1807 to 1845 :—"This story is a Cumberland tradition; I have heard it also related of the Hall of Hutton John, an ancient residence of the Huddlestones, in a sequestered valley upon the river Dacor." Egremont Castle, to which this Cumberland tradition was transferred, is close to the town of Egremont, an ancient borough on the river Ehen, not far from St Bees. The castle was founded about the beginning of the twelfth century, by William, brother of Ranulph de Meschines, who bestowed on him the whole of the extensive barony of Copeland. The gateway of the castle is vaulted with semicircular arches, and defended by a strong tower. Westward from the castle area is an ascent to three narrow gates, standing in a line, and close together. These communicated with the outworks, each being defended by a portcullis. Beyond the gates is an artificial mount, seventy-eight feet above the moat; and on this stood an ancient circular tower. (See a description of the castle in Britton and Brayley's Cumberland.) The river Dacor, or Dacre, referred to in Wordsworth's note, joins the Eamont, a short way below Ullswater; and the hall of Hutton John, which in the reign of Edward III. belonged to the barony of Graystock, passed in the time of Elizabeth to the Huddlestones. The famous Catholic father, John Huddlestone, chaplain to Charles II. and James II., was of this family. In the edition of 1815, the footnote runs, "This poem, and the Ballad which follows it" (it is the ballad of Goody Blake), "as they rather refer to the imagination than are produced by it would not have been placed here" (i.e., amongst the Poems of the Imagination), “but to avoid a needless multiplication of the classes." Accordingly, in all the editions, from 1815 to 1843, The Horn of Egremont Castle remained amongst the "Poems of the Imagination;" in 1845, it was placed along with its companion "Ballad "-in the class of "Miscellaneous Poems." The text of the poem underwent no change in the editions from 1807 to 1845. But as is shown by the notes in Lord Coleridge's copy of the edition of 1836—the alterations, subsequently adopted in 1845, were made in the interval between these years.-ED. [Written at Town-end, Grasmere. Suggested by a change in the manner of a friend.] THERE is a change-and I am poor; What happy moments did I count ! A well of love—it may be deep— -Such change, and at the very door Of my fond heart, hath made me poor. Classed by Wordsworth amongst the "Poems founded on the Affections."-ED. [Suggested on the Thames by the sight of one of these floating mills that used to be seen there. This I noticed on the Surrey side between Somerset House and Blackfriars' Bridge. Charles Lamb was with me at the time; and I thought it remarkable that I should have to point out to him, an idolatrous Londoner, a sight so interesting as the happy group dancing on the platform. Mills of this kind used to be, and perhaps still are, not uncommon on the continent. I noticed several upon the river Saone in the year 1799, particularly near the town of Chalons, where my friend Jones and I halted a day when we crossed France; so far on foot; there we embarqued, and floated down to Lyons.] Pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.” Behold yon Prisoners three, The Miller with two Dames, on the breast of the Thames ! From the shore come the notes To their mill where it floats, To their house and their mill tethered fast: To the small wooden isle where, their work to beguile, In sight of the spires, All alive with the fires Of the sun going down to his rest, In the broad open eye of the solitary sky, They dance, there are three, as jocund as free, Man and Maidens wheel, They themselves make the reel, And their music's a prey which they seize; They dance not for me, Yet mine is their glee! Thus pleasure is spread through the earth In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find; Moves all nature to gladness and mirth. 1 1820. but there's room for them all; 1807. |