This poem underwent no change in successive editions. The t.i.tle in all the earlier ones (1815 to 1843) was "The Cottager to her Infant. By a Female Friend"; and in the preface to the edition of 1815, Wordsworth wrote,
"Three short pieces (now first published) are the work of a Female Friend; ... if any one regard them with dislike, or be disposed to condemn them, let the censure fall upon him, who, trusting in his own sense of their merit, and their fitness for the place which they occupy, _extorted_ them from the Auth.o.r.ess."
In the edition of 1845, he disclosed the authorship; and gave the more natural t.i.tle, "By my Sister". Other two poems by her were introduced into the edition of 1815, and subsequent ones, viz. the "Address to a Child", and "The Mother"s Return". In an appendix to a MS. copy of the "Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland", by Dorothy Wordsworth, transcribed by Mrs. Clarkson, I find the poem "The Cottager to her Infant" with two additional stanzas, which are there attributed to Wordsworth. The appendix runs thus:
"To my Niece Dorothy, a sleepless Baby
THE COTTAGER TO HER INFANT
(The third and fourth stanzas which follow by W. W.)
"Ah! if I were a lady gay I should not grieve with thee to play; Right gladly would I lie awake Thy lively spirits to partake, And ask no better cheer.
But, Babe! there"s none to work for me.
And I must rise to industry; Soon as the c.o.c.k begins to crow Thy mother to the fold must go To tend the sheep and kine.""
Ed.
THE WAGGONER [A]
Composed 1805.--Published 1819
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. The characters and story from fact.--I.
F.]
"In Cairo"s crowded streets The impatient Merchant, wondering, waits in vain, And Mecca saddens at the long delay."
THOMSON. [B]
TO CHARLES LAMB, ESQ.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
When I sent you, a few weeks ago, the Tale of "Peter Bell", you asked "why THE WAGGONER was not added?"--To say the truth,--from the higher tone of imagination, and the deeper touches of pa.s.sion aimed at in the former, I apprehended, this little Piece could not accompany it without disadvantage. In the year 1806, if I am not mistaken, THE WAGGONER was read to you in ma.n.u.script; and, as you have remembered it for so long a time, I am the more encouraged to hope, that, since the localities on which it partly depends did not prevent its being interesting to you, it may prove acceptable to others. Being therefore in some measure the cause of its present appearance, you must allow me the gratification of inscribing it to you; in acknowledgment of the pleasure I have derived from your Writings, and of the high esteem with which I am Very truly yours, WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
RYDAL MOUNT, _May 20th_, 1819.
CANTO FIRST
"Tis spent--this burning day of June!
Soft darkness o"er its latest gleams is stealing; The buzzing dor-hawk, round and round, is wheeling,-- That solitary bird Is all that can be heard [1] 5 In silence deeper far than that of deepest noon!
Confiding Glow-worms, "tis a night Propitious to your earth-born light!
But, where the scattered stars are seen In hazy straits the clouds between, 10 Each, in his station twinkling not, Seems changed into a pallid spot. [2]
The mountains against heaven"s grave weight Rise up, and grow to wondrous height. [3]
The air, as in a lion"s den, 15 Is close and hot;--and now and then Comes a tired [4] and sultry breeze With a haunting and a panting, Like the stifling of disease; But the dews [5] allay the heat, 20 And the silence makes it sweet.
Hush, there is some one on the stir!
"Tis Benjamin the Waggoner; Who long hath trod this toilsome way, Companion of the night and [6] day. 25 That far-off tinkling"s drowsy cheer, Mix"d with a faint yet grating sound In a moment lost and found, The Wain announces--by whose side Along the banks of Rydal Mere 30 He paces on, a trusty Guide,-- Listen! you can scarcely hear!
Hither he his course is bending;-- Now he leaves the lower ground, And up the craggy hill ascending 35 Many a stop and stay he makes, Many a breathing-fit he takes;--[7]
Steep the way and wearisome, Yet all the while his whip is dumb!
The Horses have worked with right good-will, 40 And so [8] have gained the top of the hill; He was patient, they were strong, And now they smoothly glide along, Recovering [9] breath, and pleased to win The praises of mild Benjamin. 45 Heaven shield him from mishap and snare!
But why so early with this prayer?
Is it for threatenings in the sky?
Or for some other danger nigh?
No; none is near him yet, though he 50 Be one of much infirmity; [10]
For at the bottom of the brow, Where once the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH Offered a greeting of good ale To all who entered Grasmere Vale; 55 And called on him who must depart To leave it with a jovial heart; There, where the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH Once hung, a Poet harbours now, A simple water-drinking Bard; 60 Why need our Hero then (though frail His best resolves) be on his guard?
He marches by, secure and bold; Yet while he thinks on times of old, It seems that all looks wondrous cold; 65 He shrugs his shoulders, shakes his head, And, for the honest folk within, It is a doubt with Benjamin Whether they be alive or dead!
_Here_ is no danger,--none at all! 70 Beyond his wish he walks secure; [11]
But pa.s.s a mile--and _then_ for trial,-- Then for the pride of self-denial; If he resist that tempting door, Which with such friendly voice will call; 75 If he resist those cas.e.m.e.nt panes, And that bright gleam which thence will fall Upon his Leaders" bells and manes, Inviting him with cheerful lure: For still, though all be dark elsewhere, 80 Some shining notice will be "there"
Of open house and ready fare.
The place to Benjamin right well [12]
Is known, and by as strong a spell As used to be that sign of love 85 And hope--the OLIVE-BOUGH and DOVE; He knows it to his cost, good Man!
Who does not know the famous SWAN?
Object uncouth! and yet our boast, [13]
For it was painted by the Host; 90 His own conceit the figure planned, "Twas coloured all by his own hand; And that frail Child of thirsty clay, Of whom I sing [14] this rustic lay, Could tell with self-dissatisfaction 95 Quaint stories of the bird"s attraction! [C]
Well! that is past--and in despite Of open door and shining light.
And now the conqueror essays The long ascent of Dunmail-raise; 100 And with his team is gentle here As when he clomb from Rydal Mere; His whip they do not dread--his voice They only hear it to rejoice.
To stand or go is at _their_ pleasure; 105 Their efforts and their time they measure By generous pride within the breast; And, while they strain, and while they rest, He thus pursues his thoughts at leisure.
Now am I fairly safe to-night--110 And with proud cause my heart is light: [15]
I trespa.s.sed lately worse than ever-- But Heaven has blest [16] a good endeavour; And, to my soul"s content, [17] I find The evil One is left behind. 115 Yes, let my master fume and fret, Here am I--with my horses yet!
My jolly team, he finds that ye Will work for n.o.body but me!