828
A 928,116
1930
149
SOME
;་
WORDSWORTH
FINDS ?
JAMES MEDBOROUGH.

:
I
ARTES
LIBRARY
1837
VERITAS
SCIENTIA
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN!
E-PLURIBUS UNUM
TUB BUR
SI-QUAERIS PENINSULAM AMOENAMY
CIRCUMSPICE
|
f
828
W930
M49
محمد
E
SOME WORDSWORTH FINDS ?
ን
* *
*
Five hundred and fifty copies of this
Edition printed.


SOME WORDS-
WORTH FINDS?

Arranged and Introduced by
JAMES MED BOROUGH.
London :
AT THE UNICORN PRESS,
211, GRAY'S INN ROAD, W.C.
MDCCCXCV.

t
1-27-35
TO ALL
WHO REVERE THE MATCHLESS GENIUS OF
William Wordsworth
THESE CRUMBS FROM THE MASTER'S TABLE
ARE RESPECTFULLY OFFERED BY
THE DISCOVERER.



INVENTORY.
PRELIMINARY
THE HAWKshead Find :
Sonnet Composed During a Vacation.
Antaeus' giant self the vigorous earth.
THE BRATHAY FINDS :
Not Waterloo alone.
An arch of gracious sympathy.
-In clarion tone.
THE DUNMAIL RAISE FINDS:
After Reading Sundry Detractions of
my Muse.
Not echoing warlike Homer's trumpet blast.
PAGE
xi.
I
5
9
X.
Incident of a Poor Boy.
Huggins! together London Streets we paced.
To S. T. Coleridge.
Forgive the negligence, oh featured oak !
Composed During Sea-Sickness.
Our stern strains upward to the unwelcoming sky.
Reflections suggested by an Inauspicious
Event in a Noble Family.
Oh huge misfortune of the ducal hound!
Written in the Churchyard at Grasmere.
Unheedful of the schoolboy's lusty shout.
The Earth a Ship.
A herd of kine by one small urchin driven.
Against Gluttony.
Not round the ancient Roman board alone.
Example of Unselfishness in Early Childhood.
As one who sees a vessel safely brought.
The Pleasures of Consolation.
A prostrate child upon the Rothay's brink.


PRELIMIRARY.
"IN regard to Literature," says Edmund
66
Latt, "there are two functions, one or
other of which every man can, and indeed
"ought to fulfil. Their names are Production
"and Introduction, and their patron saints are
“Genius and Unselfishness. If a man cannot
"be maker (poet) producer, he can be publisher,
66
commentator, expositor, eulogist, commender
"to others, introducer. He misses the finest
flavours who conceives mere Consuming to
"be the whole duty of literary man. Of the
xii.
PRELIMINARY
(6 'poet's bread also it is true, that if a man
"will not work neither shall he eat."
In this admirable passage the genial author
of Gurthstonewick Priory has evidently aimed
at giving a complete catalogue of the agents
whom he so excellently designates "Intro-
ducers;" but he is to be charged with at
least one important omission. Do not the
recent inestimable finds of precious scraps of
De Quincey and of Thackeray remind us that
between producer and publisher there is often
a missing link? Artists are rarely the best
judges of their own work, and
own work, and have often
withheld from the world as worthless what the
world can ill afford to use. Recognition is not
accorded in the catalogue to those laborious
gleaners of every straw of whom Mr. Buxton
Forman is so indefatigable and praiseworthy an
example. If Mr. Latt will forgive a clumsy
imitation of his own graceful use of Biblical
phraseology, he may be asked whether there
is not also the Gatherer of Fragments, "that
nothing be lost."
It was during a stay in the English Lake
PRELIMINARY
xiii.
District, in the early part of the present year,
that the notion of a larger Wordsworth first
entered my mind. My friends, enthusiasts for
skating, laughed at the idea, but the conviction
deepened within me that a persevering search
would not be entirely in vain. I thought of
the gravel walk which Emerson saw in 1833,
and of the "thousands of lines" composed.
there. That five-and-forty years
elapsed
between the completion and the publication
of The Prelude, and that The Recluse did not
see the light until seven years ago further
stimulated me to effort; and early in Feb-
ruary I set to work in good earnest.
With an extended narrative of the many
fruitless journeys that were made, nearly all
of them through snow or slush, and in the
worst of weather; of the rebuffs, and even
ridicule, encountered in quarters where one
would least have expected them; of the cheer-
less nights in the smaller inns, where a tourist
in winter is as rare
rare a phenomenon as snow
in summer, there is no need to weary the
xiv.
PRELIMINARY
reader. Three experiences only demand the
chronicler's pen.
At a small house near Hawkshead I found
a deaf old woman who remembered Wordsworth
perfectly.
"He walked about with his head
down, and did nothing," was her account of
the Master's appearance and habits. An uncle
of hers had been one of the poet's school-
fellows and had once given to his brother
(the stepfather of my deaf old friend) a copy
of one of his earliest poems; a composition
which the old lady with an effort of memory
assured me was "
some special kind of portry
--a sonnick" she thought it was called. But
for these forty years she did not know that
she had more than glanced at it; Wesley's
hymns were good enough "portry" for her.
With many apologies for keeping so secular a
document in such a place she at length pro-
duced the precious paper from a family Bible,
where it kept company with
with a few funeral
cards and old letters. It was fairly written,
but not in Wordsworth's own hand, being
apparently a contemporary copy. The reader
PRELIMINARY
XV.
may imagine my delight on discovering that it
contained a reference to the familiar carving
in the desk at the Hawkshead Grammar School,
the genuineness of which is now established
beyond a doubt. The simple old soul was
almost speechless with amazement at what she
thought my mad folly in exchanging a bright
new sovereign for that old and faded paper;
but her joy was not a tithe of mine. This
sonnet I have placed first in the following
collection.
Strange to record, it was on the evening of
the same day, while plashing back to Amble-
side in miserable weather, that Fortune favoured
me a second time. A man perhaps sixty-five
years of age, but a very personification of health
and vigour, overtook me in Brathay village,
and my one great topic was speedily his also.
When quite a little fellow he had accompanied
Wordsworth, his daughter Dora, and a strange
gentleman on a ramble, acting as a kind of
beast of burden for sundry wraps and a
luncheon basket. I suspect the gentleman was
Mr. Quillinan, but my informant's mind was a
Har M
Mou
*
xvi.
PRELIMINARY
blank as regards his name and appearance.
He remembered, however, which was far more
to the point, that the Master had walked
slowly, with frequent pauses, reciting rhymes.
Several, the old man said, were about churches
and religion, and one beginning "Not Water-
loo alone," was on the Duke of Wellington. He
remembered vividly three lines of a composi-
tion which the poet declaimed on Skelwith
Bridge:-
"An arch of gracious sympathy
"From soul to soul is flung.'
"So cried I once in ecstasy
The last line he could not recall. I employed
every device to assist his recollection, but could
only elicit one further reminiscence. The
strange gentleman had begun a conversa-
tion on the Corn Laws, in which the
lad was interested, having heard a great deal on
the subject in his own home. Wordsworth dis-
played much feeling and repeated some lines
which concluded :-
((
"In clarion tone
Ringing above the din of Discontent
"Proclaims, Man shall not live by bread alone.'"
PRELIMINARY
xvii.
It is true that these are scanty fragments;
but to have played
have played Macpherson, even thus
slightly to so supreme an Ossian, I feel to be
one of the very greatest honours of my life.
A dozen barren days, and a score of fruit-
less expeditions followed these encouragements.
But Fortune was gathering strength for the
bestowal of a favour such as labours a hundred
times more diligent are but rarely rewarded
with. Early in March, in Dunmail Raise, I
met a pedestrian whom at first sight I should
have designated a tramp. He was reticent
with regard to his history, but I gathered that
he was a University man, that a lonely tramp
in a shabby suit was his fondest hobby, and
that he knew every inch of Lake-land.
speedily acquainted him with the business which
was engrossing me, and ventured to solicit his
help in the matter, of course hinting that I
would make it worth his while. It was im-
mediately plain to me that this meeting would
have results of unspeakable importance. His
face betrayed at once the possession of some
priceless information. He attempted, however,
I
xviii.
PRELIMINARY
to evade me, affirming that Wordsworth knew
his own business best, and that if any unpub-
lished poems existed, it was plainly his wish
that they should not be given to the world.
Providentially there flashed across my mind
the dead Master's own words to Emerson :
"What I have written will be published
"whether I live or die." I quoted these words
and made the very most of them, and at the
first sign of yielding, pushed up my advantage
by dragging my new friend in triumph to a
capital little dinner at the Grasmere Hotel-
the Rothay. Over some very tolerable Burgundy
he softened, and displayed considerable versat-
ility and breadth of information. Victory was
near. I ordered a bottle of Heidsieck and
the fight was won. His own literary scruples,
he did me the honour of saying, were satis-
fied by the arguments I had elaborated. But
the owners of the MSS. were not open to
conviction. They were three maiden ladies
who would not part with, shew, or even speak
of them under any circumstances. Still, a five-
pound note might corrupt their maid, who
PRELIMINARY
xix.
could perhaps obtain access to the documents
He did not guar-
and secretly make a copy.
antee success, but would do his utmost. In
four days he would meet me in Ambleside, at
the "Salutation," to report progress.
He redeemed his word. After four days,
to me full of suspense, he came bounding
into the "Salutation" triumphantly brandishing
a small packet of papers. For a space I could
neither speak nor listen, such was the super-
abundance of my exultation; and it was only
by a violent effort that I could compose my-
self to hear his story.
He had learned a
little, though only a very little, in explanation
of the distaste of the owners to the smallest
mention of the MSS.; but was not at liberty
to communicate it. A limited Edition of the
find might, however, be published with perfect
safety, as the ladies' cognizance of literary
movements was confined to what might be
gathered from the pages of a Parish Magazine.
There had been unexpected difficulty with the
maid. The five-pound note had proved a gun
of insufficient calibre, and had had to be sup-
1
J
XX.
PRELIMINARY
ported by a bracelet before the citadel of her
integrity could be carried. As a business man
he had kept an account of the total costs,
which amounted to nine pounds, fifteen shil-
lings and sixpence.
The right minded reader will acquit me of
ostentation when I state that my conscience
solemnly impelled me to proffer much more
than this beggarly sum. But my friend stoutly
refused, proudly avowing that in letters all
true men were brothers, not mere merchants.
It was only when I insisted on laying down
the larger amount, not as payment, but as a
thank-offering that he at last accepted the
balance as a donation to the funds of a Home
for Inebriates in which he was deeply inter-
ested.
We proceeded to a closer examination of
the papers,
which consisted of the sonnets
placed last in this volume. My friend acutely
pointed out, with great wealth of confirmatory
quotation from the Master's printed works, how
Wordsworthian was the diction, "and how
"bountifully the poet's spirit surcharged this
PRELIMINARY.
xxi.
1
"small body of verse." Most of his character-
istic thought finds echo here. The lofty and
wholesome Conservatism of the later and wiser
Wordsworth; his reverence for our National
Church and Institutions; his enthusiasm for
"plain living and high thinking"; his joy in
child and peasant life; his happy handling and
moralising of those personal experiences which
with lesser men would be trivial or even
ludicrous; all these as well as other "leading
motives" of Wordsworth's art-work are explicit
in the priceless sonnets now so providentially
rescued from neglect, and even from contempt.
No time was to be lost in giving to the
world the light which had been hidden under
a bushel for so long, and on my return home
I immediately set about the task of preparing
my discoveries for the press. All was not
smooth sailing, but concerning my experiences
with certain critics and so-called friends, I
will content myself with saying that the green-
eyed monster, Jealousy, is still powerful in the
world. For example here is a letter from one
who had been commended to me as an
xxii.
PRELIMINARY
authority on the bard of Rydal Mount :-
Dear Sir,
Your communication with enclosure, "Some
Wordsworth Finds" (?) is to hand. I gather
that you have funds at your disposal for the
publication of verse.
From the interrogatory form of the title you
contemplate, I further gather that you are not
without doubts as regards the
the Wordsworthian
origin of the compositions-certainly very remark-
able-which you send.
By the same post as yours, I have received
back from a publisher the MS. of a collection
of poems concerning the authorship of which
there can be no possible doubt, as I have writ-
ten every line of them myself; and preferring
the Known to
to the Unknown, I can conceive
ways in
which your monies would be more
advantageously employed.
Yours sincerely,
The crass and conceited selfishness of this
epistle speakes for itself.
It is a pitiful ex-
PRELIMINARY
xxiii.
emplification of a vice too
of a vice too common among
many self-styled literary men, who would cheer-
fully allow the inspired works of the greatest
singers to lie in oblivion, if thereby their own
worthless scribbling could see the daylight, and
perchance win the applause of the vulgar.
It should be stated, however, that the mark
of interrogation in my title, of which the fore-
going letter makes so much, is the one thing
in this little book with which my own judg-
ment does not accord, implying as it does
some measure of dubiety with regard to the
authenticity of what follows. But the counsels
of a valued friend, and the
ations of my publishers were
small matter to prevail.
And now my task is finished.
urgent represent-
allowed in this
I neither ask nor covet praise.
Of the reader
To have re-
woven these fallen leaves into the wreath of
England's greatest Laureate is for me reward
enough.
Nice, May, 1895.
JAMES MEDBOROUGH.

The
Hawkshead
Find.

7

XM.CO
3
SONNET COMPOSED DURING A VACATION.
Antaeus' giant self the vigorous earth
Recuperatingly must sometimes touch:
And Recollection limps on faltering crutch,
While unrevisited the place of birth,
The scenes of Childhood's free unthinking mirth:
The pigeon cote, the rough-made rabbit hutch,
The lanes and fields and streams beloved so
much-
And Memory mourns of sprightliness a dearth.
Faint grows the picture of sweet Esthwaite's brim,
Thy twisted streets, quaint Hawkshead, dear to
me,
E'en of thy school remembrance waxes dim,
Save of the desk I carved in boyish glee,
Which men unborn may scan, and think of him
Who now in exile yearning thinks of thee!



The
Brathay
Finds.

36956,
وکاناتان
THE BRATHAY FINDS.
Not Waterloo alone
"An arch of gracious sympathy
"From soul to soul is flung !"
So cried I once in ecstasy
In clarion tone,
Ringing above the din of Discontent,
Proclaims, "Man doth not live by bread alone."


The
Dunmail Raise
Finds.

}
J

II
AFTER READING SUNDRY DETRACTIONS
OF MY MUSE.
Not echoing warlike Homer's trumpet blast,
Or epic Virgil's legends of the foam,
How pious Aeneas, doomed by fate to roam,
Charybdis' rock and Scylla's whirlpool passed ;
Not tracking Dante through the abysmal vast-
Inferno's Exile, and The Heavenly Hɔme;
Not supplementing Shakespeare's ample tome,
Nɔr thine, blind bard, of epic kings the last ;
Of lowlier scenes and deeds 'tis mine to sing :
Of weeds, anticipations, and of Boys,
Of beggars, showers of rain, and every thing
That swells the sum of village pains and joys;
In firm simplicity of homespun speech
The general mind by common paths to reach.
12
''
INCIDENT OF A POOR BOY.
Huggins! together London streets we paced,
And there thou mindest how we met a Boy,
Beaming his eyes with pure and natural joy,
Although in lot penurious meanly placed.
A coin we gave that he for once might taste
Those dainties which a pampered palate cloy.
And did men oft their substance thus employ,
It were not of their surplusage a waste.
Towards a neighbouring shop he wildly leapt,
And there to munch the guerdon swift began.
That night for secret joy I scarcely slept,
For through my brain a kindling presage ran,
With unimaginable joy I wept
To think the Child is father of the Man.*
* Third use of this phrase by Wordsworth. cf. Macmillan's
Edition, pp. 171, 358. J. M.
13
TO S. T. COLERIDGE.
The oak-tree addressed in the following extemporary effusion
used to stand on the left side of the Keswick road, at the
point where the expanse of Grasmere Lake firet bursts upon
the pedestrian. Some peculiar protuberances, not unusual in
this species of tree, suggested most strangely and powerfully
the profile of Mr. Coleridge. I can offer no explanation of this
curious fact; and still less can I account for my extraordinary
slowness in recognising the resemblance.
Forgive the negligence, oh featured oak,
With which I've passed thee by uncounted times,
In rapt excogitance of idle rhymes,
Punctuate with greetings from the encountered
folk;
14
How tardily my recognition woke!
E'en as the autumn sun reluctant climbs
From couch of fog at morn's insistent chimes
On me how late thy sculptured meaning broke!
Thou too, oh Coleridge, absolution grant,-
Friend of my youth's more free, more generous
days-
That thoughts of thee so laggard were and scant,
Although thine image daily met my gaze,
That while to Spenser's task I bent my mind,
For years I faced thee more than Milton blind!
15
COMPOSED DURING SEA-SICKNESS.
Our stern strains upward to the unwelcoming sky,
Our bowsprit seeks to burrow in the sand
Beneath the waves; those deep drowned leagues
of land
Where weed-wreathed sisters of Atlantis lie.
Would that the towers we steer for were as nigh!
We shiver on the deck, a sorry band,
And groan, and make believe to spy the strand
Where green drear waters tumble endlessly.
But vain indeed it is, and worse than vain,
Of dolours such as these to crave surcease:
E'en stout Columbus, losing sight of Spain,
Lacked body's weal as well as spirit's peace;
And Jason joined this fellowship of pain
What time old Argo tracked the Golden Fleece.
16
REFLECTIONS SUGGESTED BY AN
INAUSPICIOUS EVENT IN A NOBLE FAMILY.
The following sonnet was suggested by an incident that came
under my notice during an excursion in Derbyshire. The Duke
of
possessed & most valuable and handsome Dog, for
which he procured a costly and beautiful collar, upon which
the ducal arms and title and the animal's name and pedigree
were very curiously engraved. Having been most unhappily
lost, the collar was at length found round the neck of a lame
and blind mongrel cur belonging to a small butcher of coarse
habits and low extraction. As an election, in which a connec-
tion of the Duke stood as a candidate, was at the time pending,
scurrilous use was of course made of the incident by "lewd fellows
of the baser sort."
Oh huge Misfortune of the ducal hound!
Nor can his owner be complacent quite.
When gossip tongues repeat the thing in spite
At fair and alehouse all the country round,
17
And vulgar prints with base lampoons abound.
Alas, that badge, which could be worn of right
By one sole Dog of lineage long and bright,
Upon a mongrel cur should e'er be found!
Dire presage this of more extended ill,
Reversal sad in church, in law, in state:
Degraded souls our loftiest stations fill,
Plebeian swains with brides patrician mate,
And Revolution's hounds of godless will
Our noblest honours rude appropriate.
18
WRITTEN IN THE CHURCHYARD AT
GRASMERE.
Unheedful of the schoolboy's lusty shout,
Where hallowed trees their vaults umbrageous
spread,
Amongst the weedy haunts of Rothay's bed,
With tawny quiverings darting in and out,
'Tween shine and shade disports a comely trout.
I mark his play as soberly I tread
O'er dust of Grasmere's venerated dead,
His gladness laves him like his flood about.
Oh favoured fish, whose lot aquarian falls
This cherished fane of England's Church beside,
Admonishing yon bell upon thee calls.
To throughly purge thy piscal soul of pride,
Nor spurn the fish that under carnal walls
Stir worldlier streams with fins unsanctified!
19
THE EARTH A SHIP.
Rather more than thirty years ago, while walking near Esth-
waite Lake with my Sister and my friend, Mr. S. T. Coleridge,
we encountered in a narrow lane a herd of kine. If I am not
mistaken, the occasion was the anniversary of the coronation of
King George. Mr. Coleridge inquired whether I had ever observed
the lounging gait assumed by these quadrupeds, "as though,"
he added pleasantly, "they are finding their sea legs."
deeply impressed by the observation, which, thirty years after-
wards, I have now philosophized and reproduced in a poetical
form.
was
A herd of kine by one small urchin driven,
Filed slowly past me in a narrow lane,
And as I gazed upon the motley train,
Comparing what had pined with what had thriven,
20
Thoughts incommunicate to me were given.
Each beast I saw a lurching gait maintain,
Like seamen tossed upon the boiling main
Who have with wind and wave for ages striven.
Methought, ere sapient Galileo dreamed
Of earth's diurnal revolution free,
On bovine minds through natural instinct gleamed
Great cosmic laws, which men are slow to see:
The earth a Ship these dumb discoverers deemed,
On which they lurching sail Infinity.
21
AGAINST GLUTTONY.
Not round the ancient Roman board alone
Had Gluttony her slaves. Not yet have ceased
The gross repletions of the pagan feast,
While Christian lands sweet Temperance disown.
The teeth of gourmands from the ivory bone
Still tear the seasoned flesh of bird and beast,
Abstemiousness lacks a loyal priest,
While crowds fall low round Epicurus' throne.
For me the staunch sirloin of knightly beef,
With vegetables fit in gravy drowned,
The pancake after fiery ordeal brief,
The rolls with steaming tea-cups ranged around,
These are enough; nor Indigestion's grief
In midnight watches am I waked to sound.
22
EXAMPLE OF UNSELFISHNESS IN
EARLY CHILDHOOD.
I am frequently rejoiced to observe in the children of the
Westmorland peasantry a genuine and spontaneous unselfishness
such as one looks for vainly in our great cities and towns. The
Rev. Allfox Surcoates, a very estimable and hardworking curate,
once detailed to me an occurrence most apposite to the fore-
going reflection. In the course of his pastoral visitation of the
sick and poor he had the day previously encountered the
village physician at the bed of a child of whose recovery from
an attack of measles he had very little hope. The suffering
boy, on learning his condition, simply said, "There'll be no one
but Jem, mother, to get the nests in our orchard." On the
conclusion of Mr. Surcoates' recital, I at once hastened to the
cottage, and was pleased to find that the child was much
better, whereupon I composed the following sonnet.
As one who sees a vessel safely brought,
-While skies discharge their fusillades of hail
And frantic winds still fearfully prevail—
Within the shelter of some friendly port,
23
Sore wounded from the battle bravely fought,
With broken spars and tangled ropes, and sail
All torn to ribbons by the unyielding gale,
-The Beast Borean of the icy snort-
So stand I in thy cottage snugly thatched,
Beloved Child, and weep for grateful joy
That thee maternal watchfulness has snatched
From might of measles, much afflicted Boy!
That Spring shall see thee from disease detached,
And nests of birds again thy hands employ.
24
1
THE PLEASURES OF CONSOLATION.
A prostrate child upon the Rothay's brink,
One goodly August morning I espied,
All inconsolable he moaned and cried,
Of Hopelessness itself he seemed to drink.
"Distracted Boy!" I said, "I cannot think
What overmastering woe may thee betide?
"Good sir," he sobbed, "at play this stream
beside,
My ball I dropped, and wept to see it sink."
I clasped his hand, and to the village shop,
Moved by a glad philanthropy I went,
Where, at my hest, he chose a spinning top,
And shouting, to the green his footsteps bent.
Dear Heaven! what scanty sluices oft can stop
The tides tumultuous of our Discontent!

OTHER FORTHCOMING VOLUMES. D······
THE UNICORN HOLIDAY MANUALS :
I.
2.
Which will also be Literature.
How to Enjoy a Holiday.
By Nestor and Mentor [Ready in July].
The Eifel.
3. Loiterings on the Lahn.
SEVEN LAYS OF BROTHERHOOD :
By Frater Omnium.
AN INTERRUPTED CADENCE :
A Short Novel, by ANNIE Riverne.
SHADOWS AND FIREFLIES :
Poems by Louis BARSAC.
AGENDA:
By Two Lazy Men.
LADY LOHENGRIN:
A Wagnerian Romance, by ERNEST
WOODMEALD.
By the same Author,
A PROGRESSIVE GHOST, AND OTHER
SHORT STORIES.
TTATA
TAT
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
*
1
F
}
1
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 03015 1248
DO NOT REMOVE
OR
MUTILATE CARD
}
1

"