Of such poor Instruments, with thoughts sublime I tremble at the sorrow of the time. The reference is to Napoleon.--ED. Vanguard of Liberty, ye men of Kent, Ye children of a Soil that doth advance They from their fields can see the countenance Six thousand veterans practised in war's game, Of cold mechanic battle do enslave. O for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave! Like conquest would the Men of England see; The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland, A.D. 1803':—“Thursday, September 8th. Before breakfast we walked to the Pass of Killicrankie. Α very fine scene; the river Garry forcing its way down a deep chasm between rocks, at the foot of high rugged hills covered with wood, to a great height. The pass did not, however, impress us with awe, or a sensation of difficulty or danger, according to our expectations; but, the road being at a considerable height on the side of the hill, we at first only looked into the dell or chasm. It is much grander seen from below, near the river's bed. Everybody knows that this Pass is famous in military history. When we were travelling in Scotland, an invasion was hourly looked for, and one could not but think with some regret of the times when, from the now depopulated Highlands forty or fifty thousand men might have been poured down for the defence of the country, under such leaders as the Marquis of Montrose or the brave man who had so distinguished himself upon the ground where we were standing. I will transcribe a sonnet suggested to William by this place, and written in Oct. 1803."-ED. Shout, for a mighty Victory is won! On British ground the Invaders are laid low; And left them lying in the silent sun, Never to rise again!—the work is done. Come forth, ye old men, now in peaceful show And greet your sons! drums beat and trumpets blow! Make merry, wives! ye little children, stun Your grandame's ears with pleasure of your noise ! 1 1 1807. with transports of your own. That triumph, when the very worst, the pain. This sonnet, as the title indicates, does not refer to an actual victory; because, since the Norman conquest, no "invaders" have ever set foot "on British ground." It was written-like the two preceding sonnets, and the one that follows it-"in anticipation" of Napoleon's project for the invasion of England being actually carried out. But it was never realised. The assembling of the immense French army destined for this purpose-one of the finest brought together since the days of the Roman legions-between the mouths of the Seine and the Texel, roused the spirit of English patriotism as it had never been roused before. Three hundred thousand volunteers were enlisted by the 10th of August 1803; "all the male population of the kingdom from seventeen years of age to fifty-five were divided into classes to be successively armed and exercised" (Dyer). The story of the failure of Napoleon's scheme for the conquest of England is too well known to be repeated in this note. Wordsworth seems to have written his sonnet in anticipation of what he believed to be the inevitable issue of events, had the French army actually landed on British soil.-ED. LINES ON THE EXPECTED INVASION, 1803. Comp. 1803. Pub. 1845. Come ye-who, if (which Heaven avert !) the Land Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch's side, And, like the Pyms and Miltons of that day, Would keep, perhaps with many a fruitless tear, And ye-who might mistake for sober sense THE FARMER OF TILSBURY VALE. Comp. 1803. Pub. 1815. [The character of this man was described to me, and the incident upon which the verses turn was told me, by Mr Poole of Nether Stowey, with whom I became acquainted through our common friend, S. T. Coleridge. During my residence at Alfoxden, I used to see much of him, and had frequent occasions to admire the course of his daily life, especially his conduct to his labourers and poor neighbours; their virtues he carefully encouraged, and weighed their faults in the scales of charity. If I seem in these verses to have treated the weaknesses of the farmer and his transgressions too tenderly, it may in part be ascribed to my having received the story from one so averse to all harsh judgment. After his death was found in his escritoir, a lock of grey hair carefully preserved, with a notice that it had been cut from the head of his faithful shepherd, who had served him for a length of years. I need scarcely add that he felt for all men as his brothers. He was much beloved by distinguished persons-Mr Coleridge, Mr Southey, Sir H. Davy, and many others; and in his own neighbourhood was highly valued as a magistrate, a man of business, and in every other social relation. The latter part of the poem perhaps requires some apology, as being too much of an echo to the "Reverie of Poor Susan."] 'Tis not for the unfeeling, the falsely refined, He dwells in the centre of London's wide Town; 'Mid the dews, in the sunshine of morn,-'mid the joy A Farmer he was; and his house far and near Of the silver-rimmed horn whence he dealt his mild ale :3 Yet Adam was far as the farthest from ruin, His fields seemed to know what their Master was doing; And turnips, and corn-land, and meadow, and lea, All caught the infection—as generous as he. Yet Adam prized little the feast and the bowl,- He strayed through the fields like an indolent wight, Erect as a sunflower he stands, and the streak There fashioned that countenance, 1815. 1815. |