Epistle - To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart. From The South-west Coast Or Cumberland - 1811 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEEEFFGHEEIIJKB BLLMMNNOOPPFFQQRRAAS STTUUVVWWFFXXYYIIZA2 A2B2B2VVB2B2C2C2D2D2 E2E2LLF2F2G2G2H2H2I2 I2LLJ2J2K2L2M2M2L2L2 BBN2N2B2B2YB2YO2O2P2 P2Q2Q2MMR2R2R2BBR2R2 H2H2OOR2R2S2S2S2BBR2 R2B2B2BBT2T2R2R2B2B2 R2R2R2U2U2B2B2V2V2R2 R2R2R2R2R2R2R2W2W2B2 B2R2R2BBB2B2N2N2B2B2 B2R2R2R2R2R2R2X2X2Y2 Y2Z2Z2A3A3B2B2R2R2FF R2R2R2R2R2G2B3B2B2W2 W2W2FFC3C3R2R2R2R2R2 R2R2R2PPQQR2R2R2R2TT OOR2R2R2R2R2D3D3R2R2 E3E3R2R2R2R2R2R2R2R2 F3R2R2R2R2R2H2H2B2B2 V2V2R2R2R2R2B2B2B2B2 AAB2B2R2R2N2N2T2T2YR 2YFar from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake | A |
From the Vale's peace which all her fields partake | A |
Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore | B |
We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roar | B |
While day by day grim neighbour huge Black Comb | C |
Frowns deepening visibly his native gloom | D |
Unless perchance rejecting in despite | E |
What on the Plain 'we' have of warmth and light | E |
In his own storms he hides himself from sight | E |
Rough is the time and thoughts that would be free | F |
From heaviness oft fly dear Friend to thee | F |
Turn from a spot where neither sheltered road | G |
Nor hedge row screen invites my steps abroad | H |
Where one poor Plane tree having as it might | E |
Attained a stature twice a tall man's height | E |
Hopeless of further growth and brown and sere | I |
Through half the summer stands with top cut sheer | I |
Like an unshifting weathercock which proves | J |
How cold the quarter that the wind best loves | K |
Or like a Centinel that evermore | B |
Darkening the window ill defends the door | B |
Of this unfinished house a Fortress bare | L |
Where strength has been the Builder's only care | L |
Whose rugged walls may still for years demand | M |
The final polish of the Plasterer's hand | M |
This Dwelling's Inmate more than three weeks space | N |
And oft a Prisoner in the cheerless place | N |
I of whose touch the fiddle would complain | O |
Whose breath would labour at the flute in vain | O |
In music all unversed nor blessed with skill | P |
A bridge to copy or to paint a mill | P |
Tired of my books a scanty company | F |
And tired of listening to the boisterous sea | F |
Pace between door and window muttering rhyme | Q |
An old resource to cheat a froward time | Q |
Though these dull hours mine is it or their shame | R |
Would tempt me to renounce that humble aim | R |
But if there be a Muse who free to take | A |
Her seat upon Olympus doth forsake | A |
Those heights like Phoebus when his golden locks | S |
He veiled attendant on Thessalian flocks | S |
And in disguise a Milkmaid with her pail | T |
Trips down the pathways of some winding dale | T |
Or like a Mermaid warbles on the shores | U |
To fishers mending nets beside their doors | U |
Or Pilgrim like on forest moss reclined | V |
Gives plaintive ditties to the heedless wind | V |
Or listens to its play among the boughs | W |
Above her head and so forgets her vows | W |
If such a Visitant of Earth there be | F |
And she would deign this day to smile on me | F |
And aid my verse content with local bounds | X |
Of natural beauty and life's daily rounds | X |
Thoughts chances sights or doings which we tell | Y |
Without reserve to those whom we love well | Y |
Then haply Beaumont words in current clear | I |
Will flow and on a welcome page appear | I |
Duly before thy sight unless they perish here | Z |
What shall I treat of News from Mona's Isle | A2 |
Such have we but unvaried in its style | A2 |
No tales of Runagates fresh landed whence | B2 |
And wherefore fugitive or on what pretence | B2 |
Of feasts or scandal eddying like the wind | V |
Most restlessly alive when most confined | V |
Ask not of me whose tongue can best appease | B2 |
The mighty tumults of the HOUSE OF KEYS | B2 |
The last year's cup whose Ram or Heifer gained | C2 |
What slopes are planted or what mosses drained | C2 |
An eye of fancy only can I cast | D2 |
On that proud pageant now at hand or past | D2 |
When full five hundred boats in trim array | E2 |
With nets and sails outspread and streamers gay | E2 |
And chanted hymns and stiller voice of prayer | L |
For the old Manx harvest to the Deep repair | L |
Soon as the herring shoals at distance shine | F2 |
Like beds of moonlight shifting on the brine | F2 |
Mona from our Abode is daily seen | G2 |
But with a wilderness of waves between | G2 |
And by conjecture only can we speak | H2 |
Of aught transacted there in bay or creek | H2 |
No tidings reach us thence from town or field | I2 |
Only faint news her mountain sunbeams yield | I2 |
And some we gather from the misty air | L |
And some the hovering clouds our telegraph declare | L |
But these poetic mysteries I withhold | J2 |
For Fancy hath her fits both hot and cold | J2 |
And should the colder fit with You be on | K2 |
When You might read my credit would be gone | L2 |
Let more substantial themes the pen engage | M2 |
And nearer interests culled from the opening stage | M2 |
Of our migration Ere the welcome dawn | L2 |
Had from the east her silver star withdrawn | L2 |
The Wain stood ready at our Cottage door | B |
Thoughtfully freighted with a various store | B |
And long or ere the uprising of the Sun | N2 |
O'er dew damped dust our journey was begun | N2 |
A needful journey under favouring skies | B2 |
Through peopled Vales yet something in the guise | B2 |
Of those old Patriarchs when from well to well | Y |
They roamed through Wastes where now the tented Arabs | B2 |
dwell | Y |
Say first to whom did we the charge confide | O2 |
Who promptly undertook the Wain to guide | O2 |
Up many a sharply twining road and down | P2 |
And over many a wide hill's craggy crown | P2 |
Through the quick turns of many a hollow nook | Q2 |
And the rough bed of many an unbridged brook | Q2 |
A blooming Lass who in her better hand | M |
Bore a light switch her sceptre of command | M |
When yet a slender Girl she often led | R2 |
Skilful and bold the horse and burthened 'sled' | R2 |
From the peat yielding Moss on Gowdar's head | R2 |
What could go wrong with such a Charioteer | B |
For goods and chattels or those Infants dear | B |
A Pair who smilingly sate side by side | R2 |
Our hope confirming that the salt sea tide | R2 |
Whose free embraces we were bound to seek | H2 |
Would their lost strength restore and freshen the pale cheek | H2 |
Such hope did either Parent entertain | O |
Pacing behind along the silent lane | O |
Blithe hopes and happy musings soon took flight | R2 |
For lo an uncouth melancholy sight | R2 |
On a green bank a creature stood forlorn | S2 |
Just half protruded to the light of morn | S2 |
Its hinder part concealed by hedge row thorn | S2 |
The Figure called to mind a beast of prey | B |
Stript of its frightful powers by slow decay | B |
And though no longer upon rapine bent | R2 |
Dim memory keeping of its old intent | R2 |
We started looked again with anxious eyes | B2 |
And in that griesly object recognise | B2 |
The Curate's Dog his long tried friend for they | B |
As well we knew together had grown grey | B |
The Master died his drooping servant's grief | T2 |
Found at the Widow's feet some sad relief | T2 |
Yet still he lived in pining discontent | R2 |
Sadness which no indulgence could prevent | R2 |
Hence whole day wanderings broken nightly sleeps | B2 |
And lonesome watch that out of doors he keeps | B2 |
Not oftentimes I trust as we poor brute | R2 |
Espied him on his legs sustained blank mute | R2 |
And of all visible motion destitute | R2 |
So that the very heaving of his breath | U2 |
Seemed stopt though by some other power than death | U2 |
Long as we gazed upon the form and face | B2 |
A mild domestic pity kept its place | B2 |
Unscared by thronging fancies of strange hue | V2 |
That haunted us in spite of what we knew | V2 |
Even now I sometimes think of him as lost | R2 |
In second sight appearances or crost | R2 |
By spectral shapes of guilt or to the ground | R2 |
On which he stood by spells unnatural bound | R2 |
Like a gaunt shaggy Porter forced to wait | R2 |
In days of old romance at Archimago's gate | R2 |
Advancing Summer Nature's law fulfilled | R2 |
The choristers in every grove had stilled | R2 |
But we we lacked not music of our own | W2 |
For lightsome Fanny had thus early thrown | W2 |
Mid the gay prattle of those infant tongues | B2 |
Some notes prelusive from the round of songs | B2 |
With which more zealous than the liveliest bird | R2 |
That in wild Arden's brakes was ever heard | R2 |
Her work and her work's partners she can cheer | B |
The whole day long and all days of the year | B |
Thus gladdened from our own dear Vale we pass | B2 |
And soon approach Diana's Looking glass | B2 |
To Loughrigg tarn round clear and bright as heaven | N2 |
Such name Italian fancy would have given | N2 |
Ere on its banks the few grey cabins rose | B2 |
That yet disturb not its concealed repose | B2 |
More than the feeblest wind that idly blows | B2 |
Ah Beaumont when an opening in the road | R2 |
Stopped me at once by charm of what it showed | R2 |
The encircling region vividly exprest | R2 |
Within the mirror's depth a world at rest | R2 |
Sky streaked with purple grove and craggy 'bield' | R2 |
And the smooth green of many a pendent field | R2 |
And quieted and soothed a torrent small | X2 |
A little daring would be waterfall | X2 |
One chimney smoking and its azure wreath | Y2 |
Associate all in the calm Pool beneath | Y2 |
With here and there a faint imperfect gleam | Z2 |
Of water lilies veiled in misty steam | Z2 |
What wonder at this hour of stillness deep | A3 |
A shadowy link 'tween wakefulness and sleep | A3 |
When Nature's self amid such blending seems | B2 |
To render visible her own soft dreams | B2 |
If mixed with what appeared of rock lawn wood | R2 |
Fondly embosomed in the tranquil flood | R2 |
A glimpse I caught of that Abode by Thee | F |
Designed to rise in humble privacy | F |
A lowly Dwelling here to be outspread | R2 |
Like a small Hamlet with its bashful head | R2 |
Half hid in native trees Alas 'tis not | R2 |
Nor ever was I sighed and left the spot | R2 |
Unconscious of its own untoward lot | R2 |
And thought in silence with regret too keen | G2 |
Of unexperienced joys that might have been | B3 |
Of neighbourhood and intermingling arts | B2 |
And golden summer days uniting cheerful hearts | B2 |
But time irrevocable time is flown | W2 |
And let us utter thanks for blessings sown | W2 |
And reaped what hath been and what is our own | W2 |
Not far we travelled ere a shout of glee | F |
Startling us all dispersed my reverie | F |
Such shout as many a sportive echo meeting | C3 |
Oft times from Alpine 'chalets' sends a greeting | C3 |
Whence the blithe hail behold a Peasant stand | R2 |
On high a kerchief waving in her hand | R2 |
Not unexpectant that by early day | R2 |
Our little Band would thrid this mountain way | R2 |
Before her cottage on the bright hill side | R2 |
She hath advanced with hope to be descried | R2 |
Right gladly answering signals we displayed | R2 |
Moving along a tract of morning shade | R2 |
And vocal wishes sent of like good will | P |
To our kind Friend high on the sunny hill | P |
Luminous region fair as if the prime | Q |
Were tempting all astir to look aloft or climb | Q |
Only the centre of the shining cot | R2 |
With door left open makes a gloomy spot | R2 |
Emblem of those dark corners sometimes found | R2 |
Within the happiest breast on earthly ground | R2 |
Rich prospect left behind of stream and vale | T |
And mountain tops a barren ridge we scale | T |
Descend and reach in Yewdale's depths a plain | O |
With haycocks studded striped with yellowing grain | O |
An area level as a Lake and spread | R2 |
Under a rock too steep for man to tread | R2 |
Where sheltered from the north and bleak northwest | R2 |
Aloft the Raven hangs a visible nest | R2 |
Fearless of all assaults that would her brood molest | R2 |
Hot sunbeams fill the steaming vale but hark | D3 |
At our approach a jealous watch dog's bark | D3 |
Noise that brings forth no liveried Page of state | R2 |
But the whole household that our coming wait | R2 |
With Young and Old warm greetings we exchange | E3 |
And jocund smiles and toward the lowly Grange | E3 |
Press forward by the teasing dogs unscared | R2 |
Entering we find the morning meal prepared | R2 |
So down we sit though not till each had cast | R2 |
Pleased looks around the delicate repast | R2 |
Rich cream and snow white eggs fresh from the nest | R2 |
With amber honey from the mountain's breast | R2 |
Strawberries from lane or woodland offering wild | R2 |
Of children's industry in hillocks piled | R2 |
Cakes for the nonce and butter fit to lie | F3 |
Upon a lordly dish frank hospitality | R2 |
Where simple art with bounteous nature vied | R2 |
And cottage comfort shuned not seemly pride | R2 |
Kind Hostess Handmaid also of the feast | R2 |
If thou be lovelier than the kindling East | R2 |
Words by thy presence unrestrained may speak | H2 |
Of a perpetual dawn from brow and cheek | H2 |
Instinct with light whose sweetest promise lies | B2 |
Never retiring in thy large dark eyes | B2 |
Dark but to every gentle feeling true | V2 |
As if their lustre flowed from ether's purest blue | V2 |
Let me not ask what tears may have been wept | R2 |
By those bright eyes what weary vigils kept | R2 |
Beside that hearth what sighs may have been heaved | R2 |
For wounds inflicted nor what toil relieved | R2 |
By fortitude and patience and the grace | B2 |
Of heaven in pity visiting the place | B2 |
Not unadvisedly those secret springs | B2 |
I leave unsearched enough that memory clings | B2 |
Here as elsewhere to notices that make | A |
Their own significance for hearts awake | A |
To rural incidents whose genial powers | B2 |
Filled with delight three summer morning hours | B2 |
More cold my pen report of grave or gay | R2 |
That through our gipsy travel cheered the way | R2 |
But bursting forth above the waves the Sun | N2 |
Laughs at my pains and seems to say Be done | N2 |
Yet Beaumont thou wilt not I trust reprove | T2 |
This humble offering made by Truth to Love | T2 |
Nor chide the Muse that stooped to break a spell | Y |
Which might have else been on me yet | R2 |
FAREWELL | Y |
William Wordsworth
(1)
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