Since thou dost bear it,-a memorial theme
For others; for thy future self, a spell
To summon fancies out of Time's dark cell.*

ΤΟ

IN HER SEVENTIETH YEAR1

[Lady Fitzgerald, as described to me by Lady Beaumont.]
Pub. 1827.

Comp. 1827.

SUCH age how beautiful! O Lady bright,
Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined
By favouring Nature and a saintly Mind
To something purer and more exquisite
Than flesh and blood; whene'er thou meet'st my sight,
When I behold thy blanched unwithered cheek,
Thy temples fringed with locks of gleaming white,
And head that droops because the soul is meek,
Thee with the welcome Snowdrop I compare;
That child of winter, prompting thoughts that climb
From desolation toward the genial prime;
Or with the Moon conquering earth's misty air,
And filling more and more with crystal light
As pensive Evening deepens into night.†

In my mind's eyes a Temple, like a cloud
Slowly surmounting some invidious hill,

Compare the poem on the Borrowdale Yew Trees.-ED.

1827.

1827.

+ For another version of this sonnet see note A. in the Appendix to this volume.-ED.

GO BACK TO ANTIQUE AGES, IF THINE EYES. 167

Rose out of darkness: the bright Work stood still
And might of its own beauty have been proud,
But it was fashioned and to God was vowed

By Virtues that diffused, in every part,

Spirit divine through forms of human art:

Faith had her arch-her arch, when winds blow loud,
Into the consciousness of safety thrilled;

And Love her towers of dread foundation laid
Under the grave of things; Hope had her spire
Star-high, and pointing still to something higher;
Trembling, I gazed, but heard a voice—it said,
"Hell-gates are powerless Phantoms when we build."

Go back to antique ages, if thine eyes
The genuine mien and character would trace
Of the rash Spirit that still holds her place,
Prompting the world's audacious vanities!
Go back, and see 1 the Tower of Babel rise;
The pyramid extend its monstrous base,
For some Aspirant of our short-lived race,
Anxious an aery name to immortalize.
There, too, ere wiles and politic dispute
Gave specious colouring to aim and act,
See the first mighty Hunter leave the brute-
To chase mankind, with men in armies packed
For his field-pastime high and absolute,
While, to dislodge his game, cities are sacked'

1 1837.

See, at her call,

WILD Redbreast! † hadst thou at Jemima's lip ‡
Pecked, as at mine, thus boldly, Love might say
A half-blown rose had tempted thee to sip

1

Its glistening dews; but hallowed is the clay
Which the Muse warms; and I, whose head is grey,2
Am not unworthy of thy fellowship;

Nor could I let one thought-one motion-slip
That might thy sylvan confidence betray.

For are we not all His, without whose care

Vouchsafed no sparrow falleth to the ground?

Strange visitation! at Jemima's lip

Thus hadst thou pecked, wild Rebreast! love
might say.

That the Muse warms; and I, though old and

grey.

1827.

MS.

* The original title (in MS.) was "To a Redbreast." In the Woods of Rydal was added in 1836.-ED.

This Sonnet, as Poetry, explains itself, yet the scene of the incident having been a wild wood, it may be doubted, as a point of natural history, whether the bird was aware that his attentions were bestowed upon a human, or even a living creature. But a Redbreast will perch upon the foot of a gardener at work, and alight on the handle of the spade when his hand is half upon it,—this I have seen. And under my own roof I have witnessed affecting instances of the creature's friendly visits to the chambers of sick persons, as described in the verses to the Redbreast. One of these welcome intruders used frequently to roost upon a nail in the wall, from which a picture had hung, and was ready, as morning came, to pipe his song in the hearing of the Invalid, who had been long confined to her room. These attachments to a particular person, when marked and continued, used to be reckoned ominous; but the superstition is passing away. -W. W., 1827.

Jemima Quillinan.-ED.

§ Compare the Ancient Mariner, Part VII., st. 23.—Ed.

CONCLUSION.

Who gives his Angels wings to speed through air,
And rolls the planets through the blue profound;
Then peck or perch, fond Flutterer! nor forbear
To trust a Poet in still musings bound.1

169

If these brief Records, by the Muses' art
Produced as lonely Nature or the strife
That animates the scenes of public life †
Inspired, may in thy leisure claim a part;
And if these Transcripts of the private heart
Have gained a sanction from thy falling tears;
Then I repent not. But my soul hath fears
Breathed from eternity; for as a dart
Cleaves the blank air, Life flies: now every day
Is but a glimmering spoke in the swift wheel
Of the revolving week. Away, away,

All fitful cares, all transitory zeal!

So timely Grace the immortal wing may heal,
And honour rest upon the senseless clay.

1 1837.

vision bound.

1827.

* To whom the Dedication of these sonnets in 1827 (p. 154), and the Conclusion (p. 169), were addressed, it is perhaps impossible to determine. I incline to the belief that the series was dedicated to his sister, and that

the concluding sonnet was inscribed to his daughter.-ED.

This line alludes to Sonnets which will be found in another Class.W. W., 1827. He refers to the Sonnets on Liberty, &c.-ED.

1828.

The poems belonging to 1828 include two short pieces, suggested during the fortnight which Wordsworth spent on the Rhine with his daughter and S. T. Coleridge in that year, The Morning Exercise, The Triad, the two on The Wishing-Gate, The Gleaner, and the ode on The Power of Sound.

A JEWISH FAMILY.

(IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST GOAR, UPON THE RHINE.)

[Coleridge, my daughter, and I, in 1828, passed a fortnight upon the banks of the Rhine, principally under the hospitable roof of Mr Aders of Gotesburg, but two days of the time we spent at St Goar in rambles among the neighbouring valleys. It was at St Goar that I saw the Jewish family here described. Though exceedingly poor, and in rags, they were not less beautiful than I have endeavoured to make them appear. We had taken a little dinner with us in a basket, and invited them to partake of it, which the mother refused to do, both for herself and children, saying it was with them a fast-day; adding, diffidently, that whether such observances were right or wrong, she felt it her duty to keep them strictly. The Jews, who are numerous on this part of the Rhine, greatly surpass the German peasantry in the beauty of their features and in the intelligence of their countenances. But the lower classes of the German peasantry have, here at least, the air of people grievously opprest. Nursing mothers, at the age of seven or eight-and-twenty, often look haggard and far more decayed and withered than women of Cumberland and Westmoreland twice their age. This comes from being under-fed and over-worked in their vineyards in a hot and glaring sun.]

GENIUS of Raphael! if thy wings

Might bear thee to this glen,

With faithful memory left of things 1

To pencil dear and pen,

With memory left of shapes and things

MS. Letter of Dorothy Wordsworth.