The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth Volume Ii Part 150

[Variant 1:

1832.

... downwards ... 1807.]

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: See Hamilton's Ballad as above.--W. W. 1807.]

[Footnote B: In his "Recollections of Wordsworth," Aubrey de Vere reports a conversation, in which the poet said to him,

"Scott misquoted in one of his novels my lines on 'Yarrow', He makes me write,

'The swans on sweet St. Mary's Lake Float double, swans and shadow;'

but I wrote,

'The _swan_ on _still_ St. Mary's Lake.'

Never could I have written 'swans' in the plural. The scene when I saw it, with its still and dim lake, under the dusky hills, was one of utter loneliness: there was _one_ swan, and one only, stemming the water, and the pathetic loneliness of the region gave importance to the one companion of that swan, its own white image in the water. It was for that reason that I recorded the Swan and the Shadow. Had there been many swans and many shadows, they would have implied nothing as regards the character of the place; and I should have said nothing about them."

See his 'Essays, chiefly on Poetry', vol. ii. p. 277.

Wordsworth wrote to his friend, Walter Scott, to thank him for a copy of 'The Lay of the Last Minstrel', and in return sent a copy of these stanzas, 'Yarrow Unvisited'. Scott replied gratefully on the 16th March 1805, and said,

"... I by no means admit your apology, however ingeniously and artfully stated, for not visiting the bonny holms of Yarrow, and certainly will not rest till I have prevailed upon you to compare the ideal with the real stream."

Wordsworth had asked him if he could suggest any name more true to the place than Burnmill, in the line, "The sweets of Burn-mill meadow."

Scott replied:

"We have Broad-meadow upon Yarrow, which with the addition of green or fair or any other epithet of one syllable, will give truth to the locality, and supply the place of Burnmill meadow, which we have not.

... I like your swan upon St. Mary's Lake. How came you to know that it is actually frequented by that superb bird?"

(See 'Familiar Letters of Sir Walter Scott', vol. i. pp. 28, 29.)--Ed.]

"September 18, 1803.--We left the Tweed when we were within about a mile and a half or two miles of Clovenford, where we were to lodge.

Turned up the side of a hill, and went along sheep-grounds till we reached the spot--a single stone house, without a tree near it or to be seen from it. On our mentioning Mr. Scott's name, the woman of the house showed us all possible civility, but her slowness was really amusing. I should suppose it a house little frequented, for there is no appearance of an inn. Mr. Scott, who she told me was a very clever gentleman, 'goes there in the fishing season;' but indeed Mr. Scott is respected everywhere; I believe that by favour of his name one might be hospitably entertained throughout all the borders of Scotland. We dined and drank tea--did not walk out, for there was no temptation; a confined barren prospect from the window.

"At Clovenford, being so near to the Yarrow, we could not but think of the possibility of going thither, but came to the conclusion of reserving the pleasure for some future time, in consequence of which, after our return, William wrote the poem which I shall here transcribe."

(From Dorothy Wordsworth's 'Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland', 1803.)--Ed.

THE MATRON OF JEDBOROUGH AND HER HUSBAND

Composed between 1803 and 1805.--Published 1807

At Jedborough we went into private Lodgings for a few days; and the following Verses were called forth by the character, and domestic situation, of our Hostess.--W. W. 1807.

One of the "Poems referring to the Period of Old Age" in 1815 and 1820.--Ed.

Age! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers, And call a train of laughing Hours; And bid them dance, and bid them sing; And thou, too, mingle in the ring!

Take to thy heart a new delight; 5 If not, make merry in despite That [1] there is One who scorns thy power:-- But dance! for under Jedborough Tower, A Matron dwells who, though she bears The weight of more than seventy years, 10 Lives in the light of youthful glee, [2]

And she will dance and sing with thee.

Nay! start not at that Figure--there!

Him who is rooted to his chair!

Look at him--look again! for he 15 Hath long been of thy family.

With legs that move not, if they can, And useless arms, a trunk of man, He sits, and with a vacant eye; A sight to make a stranger sigh! 20 Deaf, drooping, that is now his doom: His world is in this single room: Is this a place for mirthful cheer? [3]

Can merry-making enter here? [A]

The joyous Woman is the Mate 25 Of him in that forlorn estate!

He breathes a subterraneous damp; But bright as Vesper shines her lamp: He is as mute as Jedborough Tower: She jocund as it was of yore, 30 With all its bravery on; in times When all alive with merry chimes, Upon a sun-bright morn of May, It roused the Vale to holiday.

I praise thee, Matron! and thy due 35 Is praise, heroic praise, and true!

With admiration I behold Thy gladness unsubdued and bold: Thy looks, thy gestures, all present The picture of a life well spent: 40 This do I see; and something more; A strength unthought of heretofore!

Delighted am I for thy sake; And yet a higher joy partake: Our Human-nature throws away 45 Its second twilight, and looks gay; A land of promise and of pride Unfolding, wide as life is wide.

Ah! see her helpless Charge! enclosed Within himself as seems, composed; 50 To fear of loss, and hope of gain, The strife of happiness and pain, Utterly dead! yet in the guise Of little infants, when their eyes Begin to follow to and fro 55 The persons that before them go, He tracks her motions, quick or slow.

Her buoyant spirit can prevail Where common cheerfulness would fail; She strikes upon him with the heat 60 Of July suns; he feels it sweet; An animal delight though dim!

'Tis all that now remains for him!

The more I looked, I wondered more-- And, while I scanned them o'er and o'er, [4] 65 Some inward trouble suddenly Broke from the Matron's strong black eye--[5]

A remnant of uneasy light, A flash of something over-bright![B]

Nor long this mystery did detain 70 My thoughts;--she told in pensive strain [6]

That she had borne a heavy yoke, Been stricken by a twofold stroke; Ill health of body; and had pined Beneath worse ailments of the mind. 75

So be it!--but let praise ascend To Him who is our lord and friend!

Who from disease and suffering [7] Hath called for thee a second spring; Repaid thee for that sore distress 80 By no untimely joyousness; Which makes of thine a blissful state; And cheers thy melancholy Mate!