Recollections Of A Tour Made In Scotland, A.D. 1803 - free ebook by Dorothy Wordsworth

RECOLLECTIONS OF A TOUR MADE IN SCOTLAND A.D. 1803

BY DOROTHY WORDSWORTH Edited by J. C. Shairp...

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POEMS ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE JOURNAL

1803. page To the Sons of Burns, after visiting the Grave of their Father 277 At the Grave of Burns, 1803 278 Thoughts suggested the day following, on the Banks of Nith, near the Poet’s Residence 281 To a Highland Girl 113 Address to Kilchurn Castle, upon Loch Awe 285 Sonnet in the Pass of Killicrankie 207 Glen Almain; or the Narrow Glen 213 The Solitary Reaper 237 Stepping Westward 221 Rob Roy’s Grave 229 Sonnet composed at Neidpath Castle 248 Yarrow Unvisited 252 The Matron of Jedborough and

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PREFACE.

Those who have long known the poetry of Wordsworth will be no strangers to the existence of this Journal of his sister, which is now for the first time published entire. They will have by heart those few wonderful sentences from it which here and there stand at the head of the Poet’s ‘Memorials of a Tour in Scotland in 1803.’ Especially they will remember that ‘Extract from the Journal of my Companion’ which preludes the ‘Address to Kilchurn Castle upon Loch Awe,’ and they may sometimes have a

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FIRST WEEK.

William and I parted from Mary on Sunday afternoon, August 14th, 1803; and William, Coleridge, and I left Keswick on Monday morning, the 15th, at twenty minutes after eleven o’clock. The day was very hot; we walked up the hills, and along all the rough road, which made our walking half the day’s journey. Travelled under the foot of Carrock, a mountain covered with stones on the lower part; above, it is very rocky, but sheep pasture there; we saw several where there seemed to be no grass to tem

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SECOND WEEK.

Sunday , August 21 st .—The morning was very hot, a morning to tempt us to linger by the water-side. I wished to have had the day before us, expecting so much from what William had seen; but when we went there, I did not desire to stay longer than till the hour which we had prescribed to ourselves; for it was a rule not to be broken in upon, that the person who conducted us to the Falls was to remain by our side till we chose to depart. We left our inn immediately after breakfast. The lanes w

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THIRD WEEK.

Sunday , August 28 th .—We were desirous to have crossed the mountains above Glengyle to Glenfalloch, at the head of Loch Lomond, but it rained so heavily that it was impossible, so the ferryman engaged to row us to the point where Coleridge and I had rested, while William was going on our doubtful adventure. The hostess provided us with tea and sugar for our breakfast; the water was boiled in an iron pan, and dealt out to us in a jug, a proof that she does not often drink tea, though she said

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MEMORANDUM BY THE AUTHOR.

‘The transcript of the First Part of this Journal, and the Second as far as page 149, were written before the end of the year 1803. I do not know exactly when I concluded the remainder of the Second Part, but it was resumed on the 2d of February 1804. The Third Part was begun at the end of the month of April 1805, and finished on the 31st of May.’ [190] April 11 th , 1805.—I am setting about a task which, however free and happy the state of my mind, I could not have performed well at this dist

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FIFTH WEEK.

Sunday , September 11 th .—Immediately after breakfast, the morning being fine, we set off with cheerful spirits towards the Trossachs, intending to take up our lodging at the house of our old friend the ferryman. A boy accompanied us to convey the horse and car back to Callander from the head of Loch Achray. The country near Callander is very pleasing; but, as almost everywhere else, imperfectly cultivated. We went up a broad vale, through which runs the stream from Loch Ketterine, and came

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SIXTH WEEK.

Sunday , September 8 th .—The town of Peebles is on the banks of the Tweed. After breakfast walked up the river to Neidpath Castle, about a mile and a half from the town. The castle stands upon a green hill, overlooking the Tweed, a strong square-towered edifice, neglected and desolate, though not in ruin, the garden overgrown with grass, and the high walls that fenced it broken down. The Tweed winds between green steeps, upon which, and close to the river side, large flocks of sheep pasturin

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SONNET

COMPOSED BETWEEN DALSTON AND GRASMERE, SEPTEMBER 25 th , 1803. Fly, some kind spirit, fly to Grasmere Vale! Say that we come, and come by this day’s light Glad tidings!—spread them over field and height, But, chiefly, let one Cottage hear the tale! There let a mystery of joy prevail, The kitten frolic with unruly might, And Rover whine as at a second sight Of near-approaching good, that will not fail: And from that Infant’s face let joy appear; Yea, let our Mary’s one companion child, That hath

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TO THE SONS OF BURNS, after visiting the grave of their father.

‘The Poet’s grave is in a corner of the churchyard. We looked at it with melancholy and painful reflections, repeating to each other his own verses— “Is there a man whose judgment clear,” etc.’ Extract from the Journal of my Fellow-Traveller . ’Mid crowded obelisks and urns I sought the untimely grave of Burns; Sons of the Bard, my heart still mourns With sorrow true; And more would grieve, but that it turns Trembling to you! Through twilight shades of good and ill Ye now are pantin

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AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS. 1803. seven years after his death.

I shiver, Spirit fierce and bold, At thoughts of what I now behold: As vapours breathed from dungeons cold Strike pleasure dead, So sadness comes from out the mould Where Burns is laid. And have I then thy bones so near, And thou forbidden to appear? As if it were thyself that’s here, I shrink with pain; And both my wishes and my fear Alike are vain. Off weight—nor press on weight!—away Dark thoughts!—they came, but not to stay; With chastened feelings would I pay T

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THOUGHTS suggested the day following, on the banks of nith, near the poet’s residence.

Too frail to keep the lofty vow That must have followed when his brow Was wreathed—‘The Vision’ tells us how— With holly spray, He faultered, drifted to and fro, And passed away. Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng Our minds when, lingering all too long, Over the grave of Burns we hung In social grief— Indulged as if it were a wrong To seek relief. But, leaving each unquiet theme Where gentlest judgments may misdeem, And prompt to welcome every gleam Of go

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COMPOSED AT CORA LINN, in sight of wallace’s tower.

‘—How Wallace fought for Scotland, left the name Of Wallace to be found, like a wild flower, All over his dear Country; left the deeds Of Wallace, like a family of ghosts, To people the steep rocks and river banks, Her natural sanctuaries, with a local soul Of independence and stern liberty.’— MS . Lord of the vale! astounding Flood; The dullest leaf in this thick wood Quakes—conscious of thy power; The caves reply with hollow moan; And vibrates to its central stone, Yon time-cemented Tower! And

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ADDRESS TO KILCHURN CASTLE.

Child of loud-throated War! the mountain Stream Roars in thy hearing; but thy hour of rest Is come, and thou art silent in thy age; Save when the wind sweeps by and sounds are caught Ambiguous, neither wholly thine nor theirs. Oh! there is life that breathes not; Powers there are That touch each other to the quick in modes Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive, No soul to dream of. What art Thou, from care Cast off—abandoned by thy rugged Sire, Nor by soft Peace adopted; though, in pl

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THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. a tale told by the fireside, after returning to the vale of grasmere.

‘The story was told me by George Mackreth, for many years parish-clerk of Grasmere. He had been an eye-witness of the occurrence. The vessel in reality was a washing-tub, which the little fellow had met with on the shore of the loch.’ Now we are tired of boisterous joy, Have romped enough, my little Boy! Jane hangs her head upon my breast, And you shall bring your stool and rest This corner is your own. There! take your seat, and let me see That you can listen quietly: And, as I promised

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EFFUSION, in the pleasure-ground on the banks of the bran, near dunkeld.

What He—who, mid the kindred throng Of Heroes that inspired his song, Doth yet frequent the hill of storms, The stars dim-twinkling through their forms! What! Ossian here—a painted Thrall, Mute fixture on a stuccoed wall; To serve—an unsuspected screen For show that must not yet be seen; And, when the moment comes, to part And vanish by mysterious art; Head, harp, and body, split asunder, For ingress to a world of wonder; A gay saloon, with waters dancing Upon the sight wherever glancing; One lo

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THE BROWNIE’S CELL.

To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen, Or depth of labyrinthine glen; Or into trackless forest set With trees, whose lofty umbrage met; World-wearied Men withdrew of yore; (Penance their trust, and prayer their store;) And in the wilderness were bound To such apartments as they found; Or with a new ambition raised; That God might suitably be praised. High lodged the Warrior, like a bird of prey; Or where broad waters round him lay: But this wild Ruin is no ghost Of his devices—buried, los

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YARROW VISITED, September 1814.

And is this—Yarrow?— This the Stream Of which my fancy cherished, So faithfully, a waking dream? An image that hath perished! O that some Minstrel’s harp were near, To utter notes of gladness, And chase this silence from the air, That fills my heart with sadness! Yet why?—a silvery current flows With uncontrolled meanderings; Nor have these eyes by greener hills Been soothed, in all my wanderings. And, through her depths, St. Mary’s Lake Is visibly delighted; For not a featu

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YARROW REVISITED.

The gallant Youth, who may have gained, Or seeks, a ‘winsome Marrow,’ Was but an Infant in the lap When first I looked on Yarrow; Once more, by Newark’s Castle-gate Long left without a warder, I stood, looked, listened, and with Thee, Great Minstrel of the Border! Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day, Their dignity installing In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves Were on the bough, or falling; But breezes played, and sunshine gleamed— The forest to embolden; Reddened th

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ON THE DEPARTURE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT FROM ABBOTSFORD FOR NAPLES.

A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain, Nor of the setting sun’s pathetic light Engendered, hangs o’er Eildon’s triple height: Spirits of Power, assembled there, complain For kindred Power departing from their sight; While Tweed, best pleased in chanting a blithe strain, Saddens his voice again, and yet again. Lift up your hearts, ye Mourners! for the might Of the whole world’s good wishes with him goes; Blessings and prayers in nobler retinue Than sceptered king or laurelle

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THE TROSSACHS.

[Compare with this Sonnet the poem composed about thirty years earlier on nearly the same spot of ground, ‘What! you are stepping westward?’ (See p. 221.) This earlier poem, one of the most truly ethereal and ideal Wordsworth ever wrote, is filled with the overflowing spirit of life and hope. In every line of it we feel the exulting pulse of the ‘traveller through the world that lay Before him on his endless way.’ The later one is stilled down to perfect autumnal quiet. There is in it

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NOTES.

[2] Note 1.—‘ Hatfield was condemned .’— Page 2. James Hatfield, indicted for having, in the Lake district, under the assumed name of Hon. Alexander Augustus Hope, brother of the Earl of Hopetoun, forged certain bills of exchange. He was condemned to death at Carlisle on August 16, 1803. His atrocious treatment of a beautiful girl, known in the district as ‘Mary of Buttermere,’ had drawn more than usual attention to the criminal. [5] Note 2.—‘ In Captain Wordsworth’s ship .’— Pages xxx, 3.

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DISTANCES FROM PLACE TO PLACE.

miles Grasmere to Keswick 13 Suie (road excellent) Hesket Newmarket (road very bad) 15 Killin (tolerable) 7 Carlisle (bad road) 14 Kenmore (baddish) Longtown (newly mended, not good) 8 Blair (bad) 23 Annan (good) Fascally (wretchedly bad) 18 Dumfries (good) Dunkeld (bad) 12 Brownhill (pretty good) Ambletree (hilly—good) 10 Leadhills (tolerable) 19 Crieff (hilly—goodish) 11 Douglass Mill (very bad) Loch Erne Head (tolerable) 20 Lanark (baddish) 9 Callander (most excellent) 14 Hamilton (tolerabl

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