Coleridge went to search for
something new.
something new.
William Wordsworth
--It being a beautiful morning, we set off at
eleven o'clock, intending to stay out of doors all the morning. We
went towards Rydal, under Nab Scar. The sun shone and we were lazy.
Coleridge pitched upon several places to sit down upon; but we could
not be all of one mind respecting sun and shade, so we pushed on to
the foot of the Scar. It was very grand when we looked up, very stony;
here and there a budding tree. William observed that the umbrella
Yew-tree that breasts the wind had lost its character as a tree, and
had become like solid wood. Coleridge and I pushed on before. We left
William sitting on the stones, feasting with silence, and I sat down
upon a rocky seat, a couch it might be, under the Bower of William's
'Eglantine,' 'Andrew's Broom. ' He was below us, and we could see him.
He came to us, and repeated his Poems, while we sat beside him. We
lingered long, looking into the vales; Ambleside Vale, with the
copses, the village under the hill, and the green fields; Rydale, with
a lake all alive and glittering, yet but little stirred by breezes;
and our own dear Grasmere, making a little round lake of Nature's own,
with never a house, never a green field, but the copses and the bare
hills enclosing it, and the river flowing out of it. Above rose the
Coniston Fells, in their own shape and colour, . . . the sky, and the
clouds, and a few wild creatures.
Coleridge went to search for
something new. We saw him climbing up towards a rock. He called us,
and we found him in a bower,--the sweetest that was ever seen. The
rock on one side is very high, and all covered with ivy, which hung
loosely about, and bore bunches of brown berries. On the other side,
it was higher than my head. We looked down on the Ambleside vale, that
seemed to wind away from us, the village lying under the hill. The fir
tree island was reflected beautifully. . . . About this bower there is
mountain-ash, common ash, yew tree, ivy, holly, hawthorn, roses,
flowers, and a carpet of moss. Above at the top of the rock there is
another spot. It is scarce a bower, a little parlour, not enclosed by
walls, but shaped out for a resting-place by the rocks, and the ground
rising about it. It had a sweet moss carpet. We resolved to go and
plant flowers, in both these places to-morrow. "
This extract is taken from the "Journal" as originally transcribed by me
in 1889.
eleven o'clock, intending to stay out of doors all the morning. We
went towards Rydal, under Nab Scar. The sun shone and we were lazy.
Coleridge pitched upon several places to sit down upon; but we could
not be all of one mind respecting sun and shade, so we pushed on to
the foot of the Scar. It was very grand when we looked up, very stony;
here and there a budding tree. William observed that the umbrella
Yew-tree that breasts the wind had lost its character as a tree, and
had become like solid wood. Coleridge and I pushed on before. We left
William sitting on the stones, feasting with silence, and I sat down
upon a rocky seat, a couch it might be, under the Bower of William's
'Eglantine,' 'Andrew's Broom. ' He was below us, and we could see him.
He came to us, and repeated his Poems, while we sat beside him. We
lingered long, looking into the vales; Ambleside Vale, with the
copses, the village under the hill, and the green fields; Rydale, with
a lake all alive and glittering, yet but little stirred by breezes;
and our own dear Grasmere, making a little round lake of Nature's own,
with never a house, never a green field, but the copses and the bare
hills enclosing it, and the river flowing out of it. Above rose the
Coniston Fells, in their own shape and colour, . . . the sky, and the
clouds, and a few wild creatures.
Coleridge went to search for
something new. We saw him climbing up towards a rock. He called us,
and we found him in a bower,--the sweetest that was ever seen. The
rock on one side is very high, and all covered with ivy, which hung
loosely about, and bore bunches of brown berries. On the other side,
it was higher than my head. We looked down on the Ambleside vale, that
seemed to wind away from us, the village lying under the hill. The fir
tree island was reflected beautifully. . . . About this bower there is
mountain-ash, common ash, yew tree, ivy, holly, hawthorn, roses,
flowers, and a carpet of moss. Above at the top of the rock there is
another spot. It is scarce a bower, a little parlour, not enclosed by
walls, but shaped out for a resting-place by the rocks, and the ground
rising about it. It had a sweet moss carpet. We resolved to go and
plant flowers, in both these places to-morrow. "
This extract is taken from the "Journal" as originally transcribed by me
in 1889.
