1812.

The years 1812 and 1813 were even less productive years to Wordsworth than 1811 had been. The first of them was saddened by domestic losses, which deprived him for a time of the very power of work, and almost of interest in the labour to which his life was devoted. Three short pieces are all that belong to 1812 and 1813 respectively.-ED.

SONG FOR THE SPINNING WHEEL.

FOUNDED UPON A BELIEF PREVALENT AMONG THE PASTORAL VALES OF WESTMORELAND.

[The belief on which this is founded I have often heard expressed by an old neighbour of Grasmere.]

SWIFTLY turn the murmuring wheel!

Night has brought the welcome hour
When the weary fingers feel

Help, as if from faery power;

Dewy night o'ershades the ground;

Turn the swift wheel round and round!

Now, beneath the starry sky,

Couch the widely-scattered sheep ;—
Ply the pleasant labour ply!

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For the spindle, while they sleep,

1832.

Runs with speed more smooth and fine,1

Gathering up a trustier line.

Short-lived likings may be bred
By a glance from fickle eyes;
But true love is like the thread

Which the kindly wool supplies,

With a motion smooth and fine,
Runs with motion smooth and fine,

1

1820.

1827.

When the flocks are all at rest

Sleeping on the mountain's breast.

It was for Sarah Hutchinson that this song was written. She lived for the most part either at Brinsop Court, Herefordshire, or at Rydal Mount, Westmoreland, or at Greta Hall, Keswick. When living at Greta Hall, she acted as Southey's amanuensis. She also frequently transcribed poems for Wordsworth, at Grasmere, Coleorton, and Rydal Mount.

The poem was placed by Wordsworth amongst those of the Fancy. -ED.

COMPOSED ON THE EVE OF THE MARRIAGE OF A FRIEND IN THE VALE OF GRASMERE, 1812. Pub. 1815.

Comp. 1812.

WHAT need of clamorous bells or ribands gay,
These humble nuptials to proclaim or grace ?
Angels of love, look down upon the place;
Shed on the chosen vale a sun-bright day!
Yet no proud gladness would the Bride display
Even for such promise :1-serious is her face,
Modest her mien; and she, whose thoughts keep pace
With gentleness, in that becoming way

Will thank you.

Faultless does the Maid appear;

No disproportion in her soul, no strife:

But, when the closer view of wedded life

Hath shown that nothing human can be clear
From frailty, for that insight may the Wife

To her indulgent Lord become more dear.

This refers to the marriage of Thomas Hutchinson (Mrs Wordsworth's brother) to Mary Monkhouse, sister of the Mr Monkhouse with whom Wordsworth afterwards travelled on the Continent. The marriage took place on November 1, 1812. They lived at Nadnorth

Even for such omen would the Bride display
No mirthful gladness:

1815.

for eighteen years, and afterwards at Brinsop Court, Herefordshire, for twenty-one years. To their son-the Rev. Thomas Hutchinson of Kimbolton, Leominster, Herefordshire-and to their daughter-Miss Elizabeth Hutchinson of Rock Villa, West Malvern-I am indebted for much information in reference to their uncle and aunts. The portrait of Wordsworth in his forty-seventh year, by Richard Carruthers, is in Mr Hutchinson's possession at the Rectory, Kimbolton.—ED.

[Observed frequently over the lakes of Rydal and Grasmere.]

"Let me be allowed the aid of verse to describe the evolutions which these visitants sometimes perform on a fine day, towards the close of winter."-Extract from the Author's Book on the Lakes.

MARK how the feathered tenants of the flood,

With grace of motion that might scarcely seem
Inferior to angelical, prolong

Their curious pastime! shaping in mid air
(And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars
High as the level of the mountain-tops)
A circuit ampler than the lake beneath-
Their own domain; but ever, while intent
On tracing and retracing that large round,
Their jubilant activity evolves
Hundreds of curves and circlets,1 to and fro,
Upward and downward, progress intricate
Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed
Their indefatigable flight. Tis done-
Ten times, or more, I fancied it had ceased;
But lo! the vanished company again

Ascending; they approach-I hear their wings,
Faint, faint at first; and then an eager sound,

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1832.

Hundreds of curves and circles,

1827.

Past in a moment-and as faint again!

They tempt the sun to sport amid their plumes;
They tempt the water, or the gleaming ice,
To show them a fair image; 'tis themselves,
Their own fair forms, upon the glimmering plain,
Painted more soft and fair as they descend
Almost to touch ;-then up again aloft,

Up with a sally and a flash of speed,

As if they scorned both resting-place and rest!

This was placed by Wordsworth amongst the "Poems of the Imagination."-Ed.

1813.

See the note to the previous year, 1812.-ED.

VIEW FROM THE TOP OF BLACK COMB.

Comp. 1813.

Pub. 1815.

[Mrs Wordsworth and I, as mentioned in the "Epistle to Sir G. Beaumont," lived sometime under its shadow.]

THIS Height a ministering Angel might select:

For from the summit of BLACK COMB (dread name.
Derived from clouds and storms !) the amplest range
Of unobstructed prospect may be seen

That British ground commands:-low dusky tracts,
Where Trent is nursed, far southward! Cambrian hills
To the south-west, a multitudinous show;

And, in a line of eye-sight linked with these,
The hoary peaks of Scotland that give birth

To Tiviot's stream, to Annan, Tweed, and Clyde :-
Crowding the quarter whence the sun comes forth
Gigantic mountains rough with crags; beneath,
Right at the imperial station's western base

Main ocean, breaking audibly, and stretched

Far into silent regions blue and pale;-
And visibly engirding Mona's Isle

That, as we left the plain, before our sight
Stood like a lofty mount, uplifting slowly
(Above the convex of the watery globe)
Into clear view the cultured fields that streak
Her habitable shores, but now appears

A dwindled object, and submits to lie
At the spectator's feet.-Yon azure ridge,
Is it a perishable cloud? Or there

Do we behold the line of Erin's coast ? 2
Land sometimes by the roving shepherd-swain
(Like the bright confines of another world)
Not doubtfully perceived.-Look homeward now!
In depth, in height, in circuit, how serene
The spectacle, how pure Of Nature's works,
In earth, and air, and earth-embracing sea,
A revelation infinite it seems;

Display august of man's inheritance,

Of Britain's calm felicity and power.

Black Comb stands at the southern extremity of Cumberland. These lines were included among the "Poems of the Imagination.”—ED.

WRITTEN WITH A SLATE PENCIL ON A STONE, ON THE SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN OF BLACK COMB.

[The circumstance, alluded to at the conclusion of these verses, was told me by Dr Satterthwaite, who was Incumbent of Bootle, a small town at the foot of Black Comb. He had the particulars from one of the engineers who was employed in making trigonometrical surveys of that region.]