In A Garden Of The Same

Composed 1811.--Published 1815

[This Niche is in the sandstone-rock in the winter-garden at Coleorton, which garden, as has been elsewhere said, was made under our direction out of an old unsightly quarry. While the labourers were at work, Mrs. Wordsworth, my sister and I used to amuse ourselves occasionally in scooping this seat out of the soft stone. It is of the size, with something of the appearance, of a stall in a Cathedral. This inscription is not engraven, as the former and the two following are, in the grounds.--I. F.]

Classed by Wordsworth among his "Inscriptions."--ED.

Oft is the medal faithful to its trust When temples, columns, towers, are laid in dust; And 'tis a common ordinance of fate That things obscure and small outlive the great: Hence, when yon mansion and the flowery trim Of this fair garden, and its alleys dim, And all its stately trees, are passed away, This little Niche, unconscious of decay, Perchance may still survive. And be it known That it was scooped within the living stone,-- Not by the sluggish and ungrateful pains Of labourer plodding for his daily gains, But by an industry that wrought in love; With help from female hands, that proudly strove To aid the work, what time these walks and bowers Were shaped to cheer dark winter's lonely hours.

This niche is still to be seen, although not quite "unconscious of decay." The growth of yew-trees, over and around it, has darkened the seat; and constant damp has decayed the soft stone. The niche having been scooped out by Mrs. Wordsworth and Dorothy, as well as by Wordsworth, suggests the cutting of the inscriptions on the Rock of Names in 1800, in which they all took part. (See vol. iii. pp. 61, 62.) On his return to Grasmere from Coleorton, Wordsworth wrote thus to Sir George Beaumont, in an undated letter, about this inscription:--"What follows I composed yesterday morning, thinking there might be no impropriety in placing it so as to be visible only to a person sitting within the niche, which is hollowed out of the sandstone in the winter-garden. I am told that this is, in the present form of the niche, impossible; but I shall be most ready, when I come to Coleorton, to scoop out a place for it, if Lady Beaumont think it worth while." Then follows the--

INSCRIPTION.

Oft is the medal faithful to its trust.

On Nov. 16, 1811, writing again to Sir George on this subject of the "Inscriptions," and evidently referring to this one on the "Niche," he says, "As to the 'Female,' and 'Male,' I know not how to get rid of it; for that circumstance gives the recess an appropriate interest.... On this account, the lines had better be suppressed, for it is not improbable that the altering of them might cost me more trouble than writing a hundred fresh ones."--ED.

VARIANTS:

1815.

That it was fashioned in ... MS.

1815.

But by prompt hands of Pleasure and of Love, Female and Male; that emulously strove MS.

1827.

To shape the work, what time these walks and bowers Were framed to cheer dark winter's lonely hours. 1815.

... bleak ... MS.

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT, BART., AND IN HIS NAME, FOR AN URN, PLACED BY HIM AT THE TERMINATION OF A NEWLY-PLANTED AVENUE, IN THE SAME GROUNDS

Composed 1808.--Published 1815

One of the "Inscriptions."--ED.

Ye Lime-trees, ranged before this hallowed Urn, Shoot forth with lively power at Spring's return; And be not slow a stately growth to rear Of pillars, branching off from year to year, Till they have learned to frame a darksome aisle;-- That may recal to mind that awful Pile Where Reynolds, 'mid our country's noblest dead, In the last sanctity of fame is laid. --There, though by right the excelling Painter sleep Where Death and Glory a joint sabbath keep, Yet not the less his Spirit would hold dear Self-hidden praise, and Friendship's private tear: Hence, on my patrimonial grounds, have I Raised this frail tribute to his memory; From youth a zealous follower of the Art That he professed; attached to him in heart; Admiring, loving, and with grief and pride Feeling what England lost when Reynolds died.

These Lime-trees now form "a stately growth of pillars," "a darksome aisle"; and the urn remains, as set up in 1807, at the end of the avenue.

The "awful Pile," where Reynolds lies, and where--

... Death and Glory a joint sabbath keep,

is, of course, Westminster Abbey.

After Wordsworth's return from Coleorton and Stockton to Grasmere, he wrote thus to Sir George Beaumont:--

"MY DEAR SIR GEORGE,

"Had there been room at the end of the small avenue of lime-trees for planting a spacious circle of the same trees, the Urn might have been placed in the centre, with the inscription thus altered,

"Ye lime-trees ranged around this hallowed urn, Shoot forth with lively power at spring's return! And be not slow a stately growth to rear, Bending your docile boughs from year to year, Till in a solemn concave they unite; Like that Cathedral Dome beneath whose height Reynolds, among our country's noble Dead, In the last sanctity of fame is laid. Here may some Painter sit in future days. Some future poet meditate his lays! Not mindless of that distant age, renowned, When inspiration hovered o'er this ground, The haunt of him who sang, how spear and shield In civil conflict met on Bosworth field, And of that famous youth (full soon removed From earth!) by mighty Shakespeare's self approved, Fletcher's associate, Jonson's friend beloved.

"The first couplet of the above, as it before stood, would have appeared ludicrous, if the stone had remained after the trees might have been gone. The couplet relating to the household virtues did not accord with the painter and the poet; the former being allegorical figures; the latter, living men."

This letter--which is not now in the Beaumont collection at Coleorton Hall--seems to imply that Wordsworth thought of combining the first couplet on the Urn with the last nine lines of the inscription for the stone behind the Cedar tree. But this was never carried out. The inscriptions are printed in the text as they were carved at Coleorton.--ED.

VARIANTS:

1820.

Till ye have framed, at length, a darksome aisle, Like a recess within that sacred pile

MS. letter to Sir George Beaumont, 1811.

Till they at length have framed a darksome Aisle;-- Like a recess within that awful Pile 1815.

1815.

Hence, an obscure Memorial, without blame, In these domestic Grounds, may bear his name; Unblamed this votive Urn may oft renew Some mild sensations to his Genius due From One--a humble Follower of the Art

Five lines instead of three in MS. letter to Sir George Beaumont, 16th November, 1811.