CHARACTERISTICS OF A CHILD THREE YEARS OLD. 245

For such, by pitying Angels and by Spirits
Transferred to regions upon which the clouds
Of our weak nature rest not, must be deemed
Those willing tears, and unforbidden sighs,
And all those tokens of a cherished sorrow,

Which, soothed and sweetened by the grace of Heaven
As now it is, seems to her own fond heart,
Immortal as the love that gave it being.

"That celestial light, &c."

Compare the Ode on Immortality (p. 48). Maternal Grief was classed amongst the "Poems founded on the Affections.”—ED.

1811.

In the spring of 1811 Wordsworth left Allan Bank, to reside for two years in the Rectory, Grasmere. A small fragment on his daughter Catherine, the Epistle to Sir George Beaumont, from the south-west coast of Cumberland, and four Sonnets (mainly suggested by the events of the year in Spain) comprise all the poems belonging to 1811.-Ed.

LOVING she is, and tractable, though wild;
And Innocence hath privilege in her
To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes;
And feats of cunning; and the pretty round
Of trespasses, affected to provoke
Mock-chastisement and partnership in play.

And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth,

Not less if unattended and alone

Than when both young and old sit gathered round
And take delight in its activity;

Even so this happy Creature of herself

Is all-sufficient; solitude to her

Is blithe society, who fills the air

With gladness and involuntary songs.

Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's
Forth-startled from the fern where she lay couched ;
Unthought-of, unexpected, as the stir

Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow-flowers,
Or from before it chasing wantonly
The many-coloured images imprest

Upon the bosom of a placid lake.

Classed amongst the "Poems referring to the period of Childhood." --ED.

THEY seek, are sought; to daily battle led,

Shrink not, though far outnumbered by their Foes,
For they have learned to open and to close
The ridges of grim war; and at their head
Are captains such as erst their country bred
Or fostered, self-supported chiefs,-like those
Whom hardy Rome was fearful to oppose;
Whose desperate shock the Carthaginian fled.
In One who lived unknown a shepherd's life
Redoubted Viriatus breathes again;*

* Viriatus, for eight or fourteen years leader of the Lusitanians in the war with the Romans in the middle of the second century B.C. He defeated many of the Roman generals, including Pompey. Some of the historians say that he was originally a shepherd, and then a robber or guerilla chieftain. (See Livy, Books 52 and 54.)—ED.

THE POWER OF ARMIES IS A VISIBLE THING. 247

And Mina, nourished in the studious shade,*

With that great Leader† vies, who, sick of strife

And bloodshed, longed in quiet to be laid

In some green island of the western main.

THE power of Armies is a visible thing,
Formal, and circumscribed in time and space ;1
But who the limits of that power shall trace 2
Which a brave People into light can bring
Or hide, at will,-for freedom combating
By just revenge inflamed? No foot may chase,3
No eye can follow, to a fatal place

That power, that spirit, whether on the wing

...

* "Whilst the chief force of the French was occupied in Portugal and Andalusia, and there remained in the interior of Spain only a few weak corps, the Guerilla system took deep root, and in the course of 1811 attained its greatest perfection. Left to itself the boldest and most enterprising of its members rose to command, and the mode of warfare best adapted to their force and habits was pursued. Each province boasted of a hero, in command of a formidable band-Old Castile, Don Julian Sanches; Arragon, Longa; Navarre, Esprez y Mina, with innumerable others, whose deeds spread a lustre over every part of the kingdom. . . . Mina and Longa headed armies of 6 or 8000 men with distinguished ability, and displayed manœuvres oftentimes for months together, in baffling the pursuit of more numerous bodies of French, which would reflect credit on the most celebrated commanders." (See Account of the War in Spain and Portugal, and in the south of France, from 1808 to 1814 inclusive, by Lieut.-Colonel John T. Jones. London, 1818.) -ED.

+ Sertorius. See note to The Prelude, Book I., Vol. III. p. 134.-ED.

Like the strong wind, or sleeping like the wind
Within its awful caves.-From year to year
Springs this indigenous produce far and near;
No craft this subtile element can bind,
Rising like water from the soil, to find
In every nook a lip that it may cheer.

HERE pause the poet claims at least this praise,
That virtuous Liberty hath been the scope
Of his pure song, which did not shrink from hope
In the worst moment of these evil days;
From hope, the paramount duty that Heaven lays,
For its own honour, on man's suffering heart.
Never may from our souls one truth depart
That an accursed thing it is to gaze

On prosperous tyrants with a dazzled eye;
Nor-touched with due abhorrence of their guilt
For whose dire ends tears flow, and blood is spilt,
And justice labours in extremity-

Forget thy weakness, upon which is built,
O wretched man, the throne of tyranny!

EPISTLE

TO SIR GEORGE HOWLAND BEAUMONT, BART.

FROM THE SOUTH-WEST COAST OF CUMBERLAND.

[This poem opened, when first written, with a paragraph that has been transferred as an introduction to the first series of my Scotch Memorials. The journey, of which the first part is here described, was from Grasmere to Bootle on the south-west coast of Cumberland, the whole among mountain roads through a beautiful country; and we

had fine weather. The verses end with our breakfast at the head of Yewdale in a yeoman's house, which, like all the other property in that sequestered vale, has passed or is passing into the hands of Mr James Marshall of Monk Coniston- in Mr Knott's, the late owner's, time called Waterhead. Our hostess married a Mr Oldfield, a lieutenant in the Navy. They lived together for some time at Hacket, where she still resides as his widow. It was in front of that house, on the mountain side, near which stood the peasant who, while we were passing at a distance, saluted us, waving a kerchief in her hand as described in the poem. (This matron and her husband were then residing at the Hacket. The house and its inmates are referred to in the fifth book of the "Excursion," in the passage beginning—

You behold,

High on the breast of yon dark mountain, dark
With stony barrenness, a shining speck "-J.C.)

The dog which we met with soon after our starting belonged to Mr Rowlandson, who for forty years was curate of Grasmere in place of the rector who lived to extreme old age in a state of insanity. Of this Mr R. much might be said, both with reference to his character, and the way in which he was regarded by his parishioners. He was a man of a robust frame, had a firm voice and authoritative manner, of strong natural talents, of which he was himself conscious, for he has been heard to say (it grieves me to add) with an oath "If I had been brought up at college I should have been a bishop." Two vices used to struggle in him for mastery, avarice and the love of strong drink; but, avarice, as is common in like cases, always got the better of its opponent; for, though he was often intoxicated, it was never I believe at his own expense. As has been said of one in a more exalted station, he would take any given quantity. I have heard a story of him which is worth the telling. One summer's morning, our Grasmere curate, after a night's carouse in the vale of Langdale, on his return home, having reached a point near which the whole of the vale of Grasmere might be seen with the lake immediately below him, stepped aside and sat down on the turf. After looking for some time at the landscape, then in the perfection of its morning beauty, he exclaimed-" Good God, that I should have led so long such a life in such a place!" This no doubt was deeply felt by him at the time, but I am not authorised to say that any noticeable amendment followed. Penuriousness strengthened upon him as his body grew feebler with age. He had purchased property and kept some land in his own hands, but he could not find in his heart to lay out the necessary hire for labourers at the proper season, and consequently he has often been seen in halfdotage working his hay in the month of November by moonlight, a melancholy sight which I myself have witnessed. Notwithstanding all