Grief, Thou Hast Lost An Ever Ready Friend

Composed 1819.--Published 1819

[I could write a treatise of lamentation upon the changes brought about among the cottages of Westmoreland by the silence of the spinning-wheel.[DR] During long winter nights and wet days, the wheel upon which wool was spun gave employment to a great part of a family. The old man, however infirm, was able to card the wool, as he sate in a corner by the fire-side; and often, when a boy, have I admired the cylinders of carded wool which were softly laid upon each other by his side. Two wheels were often at work on the same floor; and others of the family, chiefly little children, were occupied in teasing and cleaning the wool to fit it for the hand of the carder. So that all, except the smallest infants, were contributing to mutual support. Such was the employment that prevailed in the pastoral vales. Where wool was not at hand, in the small rural towns, the wheel for spinning flax was almost in as constant use, if knitting was not preferred; which latter occupation has the advantage (in some cases disadvantage) that, not being of necessity stationary, it allowed of gossiping about from house to house, which good housewives reckoned an idle thing.--I. F.]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.

Grief, thou hast lost an ever ready friend Now that the cottage Spinning-wheel is mute; And Care--a comforter that best could suit Her froward mood, and softliest reprehend; And Love--a charmer's voice, that used to lend, More efficaciously than aught that flows From harp or lute, kind influence to compose The throbbing pulse--else troubled without end: Even Joy could tell, Joy craving truce and rest From her own overflow, what power sedate On those revolving motions did await Assiduously--to soothe her aching breast; And, to a point of just relief, abate The mantling triumphs of a day too blest.

The following version of the last seven lines of this sonnet is from a MS. copy of it:--

The panting breast else troubled without end: And fancy prized the murmuring spinning-wheel In sympathies inexplicably fine, Instilled a confidence how sweet to feel! That ever, in the night calm, when the sheep Upon their grassy beds lay couched in sleep, The quickening spindle drew a trustier line.

ED.

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