which grew there. It is to be regretted, upon public grounds, that Sir George Beaumont did not carry into effect his intention of constructing here a Summer Retreat, in the style I have described, as his taste would have set an example how buildings with all the accommodations modern society requires might be introduced even into the most secluded parts of the country without injuring their native character." There are few persons of ordinarily cultivated taste will not share this regret, when they see the many modern erections at Grasmere and Ambleside, which, by the hardness of their lines, and their general obtrusiveness, interfere with the seclusion of these places, and jar with the whole spirit of the district.

In July 1844, Wordsworth walked round by Rydal and Grasmere to Loughrigg Tarn with Sir William Rowan Hamilton, Charles Julius Hare, Archer Butler of Dublin, the Rev. Percival Graves, etc. Mr. Graves, now of Dublin, but then at Windermere, writes of it thus: The day was memorable as giving birth to an interesting minor poem of Mr. Wordsworth's. When we reached the side of Loughrigg Tarn (which, you may remember, he notes for its similarity, in the peculiar character of its beauty, to the Lago di Nemi, Dianæ Speculum), the loveliness of the scene arrested our steps and fixed our gaze. The splendour of a July noon surrounded us and lit up the landscape, with the Langdale Pikes soaring above, and the bright Tarn shining beneath; and when the poet's eyes were satisfied with their feast on the beauties familiar to them, they sought relief in the search, to them a happy vital habit, for new beauty in the flowerenamelled turf at his feet. There his attention was arrested by a fair smooth stone, of the size of an ostrich's egg, seeming to imbed at its centre, and at the same time to display a dark, star-shaped

fossil of most distinct outline. Upon closer inspec-
tion, this proved to be the shadow of a daisy
projected upon it with extraordinary precision by the
intense light of an almost vertical sun.
The poet
drew the attention of the rest of the party to the
minute but beautiful phenomenon, and gave expres-
sion at the time to thoughts suggested by it, which
so interested our friend, Professor Butler, that he
plucked the tiny flower, and saying that 'it should be
not only the theme but the memorial of the thought
they had heard,' bestowed it somewhere carefully
for preservation." The little poem, in which some
of these thoughts were crystallized, is as follows-
So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive:

Would that the little flowers were born to live
Conscious of half the pleasure which they give;
That to this mountain-daisy's self were known
The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown
On the smooth surface of this naked stone!
And what if hence a bold desire should mount
High as the Sun, that he could take account
Of all that issues from his glorious fount !
So might he ken how by his sovereign aid
These delicate companionships are made;
And how he rules the pomp of light and shade;
And were the sister-power that shines by night
So privileged, what a countenance of delight
Would through the clouds break forth on human
sight!

Fond fancies! wheresoe'er shall turn thine eye
On earth, air, ocean, or the starry sky,
Converse with Nature in pure sympathy;

All vain desires, all lawless wishes quelled
Be thou to love and praise alike impelled,
Whatever boon is granted or withheld.

The reference to the yew-trees leads us naturally back to Grasmere and its churchyard.

The "Church" in The Excursion, Wordsworth himself tells us, is that of Grasmere. Several of its features are, however, taken from other places, such as Bowness, and (perhaps?) Hawkshead. The Churchyard among the Mountains" is mainly that of Grasmere, though some of the graves described are elsewhere—e.g., that of the “gentle dalesman," who was deaf.

66

He grew up

From year to year in loneliness of soul,
And this deep mountain-valley was to him
Soundless, with all its streams.

His grave is in the churchyard at Hawes Water.

In his account of the scenes and characters in The Excursion (see Fenwick MS.), Wordsworth refers to the house at Hackett, which he imaginatively converted into the parsonage, and proceeds: "At the same time, and as by the waving of a magic wand, I turn the comparatively confined vale of Langdale into the stately and comparatively spacious vale of Grasmere, and its ancient parish church."

-So we descend: and winding round a rock
Attain a point that showed the valley-stretched
In length before us; and, not distant far,
Upon a rising-ground a grey church tower,
Whose battlements were screened by tufted trees.
And towards a crystal Mere, that lay beyond
Among steep hills and woods embosomed, flowed
A copious stream with boldly-winding course;
Here traceable, there hidden-there again
To sight restored, and glittering in the sun.

1 Prose Works, vol. iii. p. 199.

On the stream's bank, and everywhere appeared
Fair dwellings, single, or in social knots;
Some scattered o'er the level, others perched
On the hill sides, a cheerful, quiet scene,
Now in its morning purity arrayed.1

"The interior of the church has been improved lately by underdrawing the roof and raising the floor; but the rude and antique majesty of its former appearance has been impaired by painting the rafters; and the oak benches, with a simple rail at the back dividing them from each other, have given way to seats that have more the appearance of pews."

"2

Oft pausing, we pursued our way;

Nor reached the village churchyard till the sun,
Travelling at steadier pace than ours, had risen
Above the summits of the highest hills,
And round our path darted oppressive beams.

As chanced, the portals of the sacred Pile
Stood open; and we entered. On my frame,
At such transition from the fervid air,

A grateful coolness fell, that seemed to strike
The heart, in concert with that temperate awe
And natural reverence with the place inspired.
Not raised in nice proportions was the pile,
But large and massy; for duration built;
With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld
By naked rafters intricately crossed,

Like leafless underboughs, in some thick wood,
All withered by the depth of shade above.

1 Excursion, book v.

2 Prose Works, vol. iii. p. 201.

Which, like a book, preserved the memory
Of the dumb animals whom he had saved,
Had fed or sheltered, linking to such acts
The certainty of honourable gain;

Those fields, those hills-what could they less? had laid

Strong hold on his affections, were to him
A pleasurable feeling of blind love,
The pleasure which there is in life itself.

Michael's home is thus described

Their cottage on a plot of rising ground
Stood single, with large prospect, north and
south,

High into Easdale, up to Dunmail-Raise,
And westward to the village near the lake;
And from this constant light, so regular
And so far seen, the House itself, by all
Who dwelt within the limits of the vale,
Both old and young, was named THE EVENING
STAR.

This cottage was gone when the poem was written in 1800. It stood where the coach-house and stables of "The Hollins" now stand. It is easy for any one visiting Green-head Ghyll to realise Michael in his old age, as described in that most pathetic of poems.

Among the rocks He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud, And listened to the wind; and, as before, Performed all kinds of labour for his sheep, And for the land, his small inheritance. And to that hollow dell from time to time Did he repair, to build the Fold of which His flock had need.