"Unoccupied by sorrow of its own, He had no painful pressure from without, p. 21. "Her Infant Babe Had from its mother caught the trick of grief, And sighed among its playthings.". p. 43. In the second book which is called the "Solitary," the author describes his travels with the wanderer. They see a multitude of people celebrating a village wake, whom the wanderer declines joining, being anxious to visit a secluded friend. This Solitary had been married; but in the course of one year had lost two lovely children," and afterwards his wife. On reaching his dwelling the travellers hear a solemn dirge; and, seeing a funeral procession, the Wanderer apprehends the Solitary is dead. His fears are confirmed by accidentally finding a book (a novel of Voltaire's) in a recess in the valley. At length he sees the man whom he had fancied dead," consoling a child who was shedding orphan's tears" on witnessing the "mute procession." The Solitary kindly receives the Wanderer and his friend, and after some observations on the ancient and modern mode of burial, leads them to his cottage. After the Poet's description of the apartment and repast, the Solitary gives an account of his departed inmate, the summary of which is, that he had been a beggar. The housewife opened her doors and admitted the pauper, who was consequently" her vassal of all labour." This aged man having been out "when the rain fell in torrents," died, after lingering three short weeks. The language of this book is variable-descending from grandeur, which it sometimes reaches, to absolute poverty and mean ness. The third book called "Despondency," contains descriptions of scenes in the valley. The travellers again meet the Solitary, who, being reproved for his despondency, relates his whole history. His dejection, produced by misfortunes, was for awhile amused by the French Revolution. Disappointed and disgusted, he resolved on a voyage to America: but not finding repose there, a thing which wanderers never found there, he returned and still continued disconsolate. The incidents in this book are few, and not calculated either to charm or surprise the reader. The language however is more regular, and the metre more correct. The travellers, who had still remained with the Solitary, in the fourth book which bears the appellation of "Despondency corrected," suddenly leave him, for the purpose of pondering upon what they had heard. Ejaculations from the wanderer ensue, and after ruminating on the state of Man, he and his fellow traveller (the author) visit the lonely house again, where the former administers consolation to the Solitary. During his admonitions he alludes to the book which he found, written by "the laughing Sage of France," which he restores to its owner: 66 Gentle Friend,' Herewith he grasped the Solitary's hand, You have known better lights and guides than these--- A noble mind to practise on herself, No shelter for a spirit in distress."-p. 186-7. The wanderer's "eloquent harangue" begins to have effe upon the Solitary, and on the approach of evening the trat return to the cottage where they are hospitably enteren Here we give another specimen of Mr. W.'s characteristic:sification. "Knowing the heart of man is set to be The centre of this world, about the which In his Errata, he desires us to read Aspècts. In the fifth book called the "Pastor" the travellers bid farewell to the valley. The Solitary is persuaded to accompany them part of their way. After descriptions of the vale-of the Pastor's dwelling-of the Pastor himself-of the church-yardand of the church and monuments, the Solitary muses and communicates his thoughts to the travellers: - Did you note the mien Of that self-solaced, easy-hearted churl, Death's hireling, who scoops out his neighbour's grave, As unconcerned as when he plants a tree."-p. 211–2. His subsequent meditations are well written. These occasion reflections on Baptism which produce an argument, the decision of which is left to the Pastor who is seen approaching. The travellers agree with the Pastor's observations, but the Recluse still harbours his gloomy thoughts. The Pastor being requested to give some portraits of the living or dead, from his observations of life among the mountains, describes the mountain cottage and its inhabitants. His account of persons interred in the churchyard commences with desultory reflections on the graves of unbaptized infants, and on those set apart for the remains of the "thoughtless school-boy," the "bold youth," the "bashful maid," "those of middle age" and the aged. The sixth book denominated "the churchyard among the mountains," opens with a loyal, moral effusion-the Poet's address to the State and Church of England. The Pastor having resumed his discourse, a tale is introduced. Of faithful love Conquered and in tranquillity retained." This tale is followed by another, the lonely Miner, an instance of perseverance, which leads by contrast to an example of abused talents. In compliance with the Solitary's request, the Pastor gives an account of the harmonizing influence of Solitude upon two men of opposite principles, who had encountered agitations in public life. The fate of these two men leads to precepts for insuring mental tranquillity. The Solitary hints at an overpowering fatality, which draws from the Pastor some religious observations. He gives the history of an unrelenting avaricious female, who discarded her only child. With this unamiable, and indeed unnatural character, is contrasted another, Ellen, a meek sufferer, from unguarded and betrayed love, interred near the grave of her illegitimate infant. The Pastor then gives an instance of heavier guilt, and delineates the feelings of a married seducer. Another tale succeeds, of a widower, who evinces his real affection for the memory of his departedwife, by having made a second prudent choice, and thus providing a mother for his helpless family. This book is uncommonly interesting; but contains a great many very unmetrical lines. The seventh Book, which is a continuation of the subject, might have been dispensed with, by blending some parts of it with the preceding. The interest of a poem should gradually rise. The sixth Book is certainly better than the fifth; but the subject becomes tedious in the seventh, and this poet is seldom very lively. The Pastor is invited to give an account of certain graves that lie apart, and accordingly pourtrays the characters of two clergymen and their families. He shows the fallacy of human joy, which is changed to mourning by the sudden death of a female infant: then follows the history of a noble-minded peasant. In the eighth Book, called the "Parsonage," the Vicar gives his auditors an invitation to his house. The Solitary appears unwilling to comply, and rallies the Wanderer, drawing a comparison between his itinerant profession and that of a Knighterrant, which induces the latter to give a history of the changes. in this country, arising from its manufacturing spirit. He asserts the hollowness of all national grandeur, if unsupported by moral worth; and grieves that there should be an excess of Jabour among the humble classes of society. A description of a child employed in a cotton-mill, leads to some remarks on the ignorance and wretchedness of the children thus employed. The Pastor renews his invitation, which is accepted. The parsonage is then described, and the happy appearance of the family, by whom the travellers are heartily welcomed. The ninth Book, called "Discourse of the Wanderer, and an Evening Visit to the Lake," exhibits the Wanderer as a preacher. He declares, that an active principle pervades the universe, and expresses an earnest wish for a system of National Education established universally by Government. In the visit to the Lake the scenery and amusements are described. The priest addresses the Supreme Being, and contrasting the present appearance of the world with ancient barbarism, ascribes the happy change to Christianity. After the Vesper service, the travellers return to the parsonage; and the author promises (if his present book sell well) to record his further intercourse with his fellow travellers and companions. The defects of this publication are numerous; and may be ascribed to Mr. Wordsworth's want of classic taste, and his ignorance, real or affected, of what constitutes the true dignity and charm of poetry. We frequently, however, meet with passages which are reputable to his head; and the moral and religious tendency of the whole work does infinite credit to his heart. The production which remains to be noticed is, "The White Doe of Rylstone; or the Fate of the Nortons." We are inform ed by an advertisement," that during the summer of 1807, the author visited, for the first time, the beautiful scenery that surrounds Bolton Priory, in Yorkshire; and that the poem of the White Doe, founded upon a tradition connected with that place, was composed at the close of the same year." In his Notes, the author quotes the tradition from Dr. Whitaker's History of the Deanery of Craven, viz. " About this time," not long after the Dissolution, "a white doe, say the aged people of the neighbourhood, long continued to make a weekly pilgrimage from Rylstone over the fells of Bolton, and was constantly found in the Abbey church-yard during divine service; after the close of which she returned home as regularly as the rest of the congregation." With this incident the author has connected the great Northern insurrection in the 12th year of Elizabeth, 1569; Rylstone having been the property and residence of the Nortons, who had joined the ill-advised and unfortunate insurgents. The subject of this poem, which is in seven Cantos, is ad mirably adapted to Mr. Wordsworth's simplicity of style; for Calliope is not that gentleman's happiest muse. In the first Canto we are introduced to the church-yard: "From Bolton's old monastic tower The bells ring loud with gladsome power; Of stole and doublet, hood and scarf, The cluster round the porch, and the folk, We like the introduction of the Doe : 66 --When soft, the dusky trees between, p. 5. |