This picture from nature may seem to depart,1

Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart;
And I for five centuries right gladly would be

Such an odd, such a kind happy creature as he.

The full title of this poem, in Lyrical Ballads, 1800, is "A Character, in the antithetical manner." It was omitted from all subsequent editions till 1836. It was with this friend, Robert Jones-a fellow collegian at St John's College, Cambridge-that Wordsworth visited the Continent (France and Switzerland), during the long vacation in 1790; and to him he dedicated the first edition of Descriptive Sketches, in 1793. With him he also made a pedestrian tour in Wales in 1791. Jones afterwards became the incumbent of Soulderne, near Deddington, in Oxfordshire; and Wordsworth described his parsonage there in the sonnet, beginning "Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends."-ED.

FOR THE SPOT WHERE THE HERMITAGE STOOD ON ST HERBERT'S ISLAND, DERWENT-WATER.

IF thou in the dear love of some one Friend

Hast been so happy that thou know'st what thoughts

Will sometimes in the happiness of love

Make the heart sink, then wilt thou reverence

This quiet spot; and, Stranger! not unmoved

Wilt thou behold this shapeless heap of stones,

The desolate ruins of St Herbert's Cell.

Here stood his threshold; here was spread the roof
That sheltered him, a self-secluded Man,

After long exercise in social cares

And offices humane, intent to adore

The Deity, with undistracted mind,

And meditate on everlasting things,

1 1836.

What a picture! 'tis drawn without nature or art ;

1800.

In utter solitude. But he had left

A Fellow-labourer, whom the good Man loved
As his own soul. And, when with eye upraised

To heaven he knelt before the crucifix,

While o'er the lake the cataract of Lodore
Pealed to his orisons, and when he paced
Along the beach of this small isle and thought
Of his Companion, he would pray that both
(Now that their earthly duties were fulfilled)
Might die in the same moment. Nor in vain
So prayed he-as our chronicles report,
Though here the Hermit numbered his last day
Far from St Cuthbert his beloved Friend,
Those holy Men both died in the same hour.1

1 1832.

The text of this poem underwent so many changes, which are not easily shown by the plan adopted throughout this edition-portions of the earliest version of 1800 being abandoned and again adopted, and the whole arrangement of the passages being altered-that it seems desirable to append the entire text of 1800, and extensive parts of that of subsequent years. The final text of 1832 is printed above.

If thou in the dear love of some one friend

Hast been so happy that thou know'st what thoughts

Will, sometimes, in the happiness of love

Make the heart sink, then wilt thou reverence

This quiet spot.-St Herbert hither came,

And here, for many seasons, from the world
Removed, and the affections of the world,
He dwelt in solitude. He living here
This island's sole inhabitant! had left
A fellow-labourer, whom the good man loved
As his own soul; and when within his cave
Alone he knelt before the crucifix

While o'er the lake the cataract of Lodore
Pealed to his orisons, and when he paced
Along the beach of this small isle, and thought
Of his Companion, he had prayed that both
Might die in the same moment. Nor in vain
So prayed he ;-as our chronicles report,
Though here the Hermit numbered his last days

Far from St Cuthbert his beloved friend,

Those holy Men both died in the same hour.

1800.

The versions of 1802 and 1807, which are identical, omit one line of the text of 1800, as under

He dwelt in solitude. But he had left

A Fellow-labourer, &c.

1802, 1807.

The text of 1815, which is continued in 1820, begins thus—
This island, guarded from profane approach

By mountains high and waters widely spread,
Is that recess to which St Herbert came
In life's decline; a self-secluded man,
After long exercise in social cares
And offices humane, intent to adore
The Deity, with undistracted mind,
And meditate on everlasting things.

Stranger! this shapeless heap of stones and earth
(Long be its mossy covering undisturbed)
Is reverenced as a vestige of the abode

In which, through many seasons, from the world
Removed, and the affections of the world,

He dwelt in solitude. But he had left
A Fellow-labourer, &c.

In 1827 the poem began thus

1815 and 1820.

Stranger this shapeless heap of stones and earth

Is the last relic of St Herbert's Cell.

Here stood his threshold; here was spread the roof
That sheltered him, a self-secluded man,

After long exercise, &c.

1827.

"The shapeless heap of stones" in St Herbert's Island, which were "desolate ruins" in 1800, are even more "shapeless" and "desolate" now, but they can easily be identified. The island is near the centre of the lake, and is in area about four acres. The legend of St Herbert dates from the middle of the seventh century. The rector of Clifton, Westmoreland, Dr Robinson, writing in 1819, says :-"The remains of his hermitage are still visible, being built of stone and mortar, and formed into two apartments, one of which, about twenty feet long and sixteen feet wide, seems to have been his chapel; the other, of less dimensions, his cell. Near these ruins the late Sir Wilfred Lawson (to whose representative the island at present belongs) erected some years ago a small octagonal cottage, which, being built of unhewn stone, and artificially mossed over, has a venerable appearance." (See Guide to the Lakes, by John Robinson, D.D., 1819). This cottage has now disappeared.-Ed.

WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL UPON A STONE IN THE WALL
OF THE HOUSE (AN OUT-HOUSE), ON THE ISLAND AT
GRASMERE.

RUDE is this Edifice, and Thou hast seen
Buildings, albeit rude, that have maintained
Proportions more harmonious, and approached
To closer fellowship with ideal grace.1
But take it in good part:-alas! the poor2
Vitruvius of our village had no help
From the great City; never, upon leaves ·
Of red Morocco folio, saw displayed,
In long succession, pre-existing ghosts*
Of Beauties yet unborn-the rustic Lodge
Antique, and Cottage with verandah graced,
Nor lacking, for fit company, alcove,
Green-house, shell-grot, and moss-lined hermitage.5
Thou see'st a homely Pile, yet to these walls
The heifer comes in the snow-storm, and here

Snug Cot, with Coach-house, Shed, and Hermitage. 1800.

6

1815.

It is a homely pile.

1800.

The new-dropped lamb finds shelter fom the wind.
And hither does one Poet sometimes row

His pinnance, a small vagrant barge, up-piled
With plenteous store of heath and withered fern,
(A lading which he with his sickle cuts,
Among the mountains) and beneath this roof
He makes his summer couch, and here at noon
Spreads out his limbs, while, yet unshorn, the Sheep,
Panting beneath the burthen of their wool,

Lie round him, even as if they were a part

Of his own Household; nor, while from his bed
He looks, through the open door-place, toward the lake1
And to the stirring breezes, does he want
Creations lovely as the work of sleep-

Fair sights, and visions of romantic joy!

This "homely pile" on the island of Grasmere very homely-still remains.--ED.

WRITTEN WITH A SLATE PENCIL UPON A STONE, THE LARGEST OF A HEAP LYING NEAR A DESERTED QUARRY, UPON ONE OF THE ISLANDS AT RYDAL.

STRANGER! this hillock of mis-shapen stones

Is not a Ruin spared or made by time,2

Nor, as perchance thou rashly deem'st, the Cairn
Of some old British Chief: 'tis nothing more

Than the rude embryo of a little Dome

He through that door-place looks toward the lake. 1800.

Is not a ruin of the ancient time.

1800.