No More Learning

6, 1790,
Keswill, a small village on the Lake of Constance," which will be found
amongst his letters in a subsequent volume. --Ed.





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APPENDIX III

The following two variants in 'Descriptive Sketches' are from MS. notes
written in the late Lord Coleridge's copy of the edition of 1836-7.

l. 247.

Yet the world's business hither finds its way
At times, and unsought tales beguile the day,
And tender thoughts are those which Solitude


l. 249.

Yet tender thoughts dwell there. No Solitude
Hath power Youth's natural feelings to exclude.





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APPENDIX IV

'Anecdote for Fathers'

See Eusebius' 'Praeparatio Evangelica', vi. 5. --[Greek: kleie bi_en
kartos te log_on pseud_egora lex_o]--which was Apollo's answer to
certain persons who tried to force his oracle to reply. --Ed.





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APPENDIX V

'The Thorn'

William Taylor's translation of Burger's 'Pfarrer's Tochter' appeared in
'The Monthly Magazine' (1796), and as the same volume contained
contributions by Coleridge and Lamb, it is possible that Wordsworth saw
it.
Burger's Pastor's Daughter murdered her natural child, but it is her
ghost which haunts its grave, which she had torn

With bleeding nails beside the pond,
And nightly pines the pool beside.





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APPENDIX VI

'Simon Lee'

It was found impossible fully to describe, within the limits of a
footnote, the endless shiftings to and fro of the stanzas and half
stanzas of 'Simon Lee'. The first eight stanzas of the edition of 1798
are therefore reprinted in this Appendix; and a Table is added, by means
of which the various transpositions effected from time to time may be
readily ascertained. In the Table 'a' stands for lines 1-4, and 'b' for
lines 5-8 of a stanza.


In the sweet shire of Cardigan,
Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall,
An old man dwells, a little man,
I've heard he once was tall.
Of years he has upon his back,
No doubt, a burthen weighty;
He says he is three score and ten,
But others say he's eighty.

A long blue livery-coat has he,
That's fair behind, and fair before;
Yet, meet him where you will, you see
At once that he is poor.
Full five and twenty years he lived
A running huntsman merry;
And, though he has but one eye left,
His cheek is like a cherry.

No man like him the horn could sound,
And no man was so full of glee;
To say the least, four counties round
Had heard of Simon Lee;
His master's dead, and no one now
Dwells in the hall of Ivor;
Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead;
He is the sole survivor.

His hunting feats have him bereft
Of his right eye, as you may see:
And then, what limbs those feats have left
To poor old Simon Lee!
He has no son, he has no child,
His wife, an aged woman,
Lives with him, near the waterfall,
Upon the village common.

And he is lean and he is sick,
His little body's half awry
His ancles they are swoln and thick;
His legs are thin and dry.
When he was young he little knew
Of husbandry or tillage;
And now he's forced to work, though weak,
--The weakest in the village.

He all the country could outrun,
Could leave both man and horse behind;
And often, ere the race was done,
He reeled and was stone-blind.
And still there's something in the world
At which his heart rejoices;
For when the chiming hounds are out,
He dearly loves their voices!

Old Ruth works out of doors with him,
And does what Simon cannot do;
For she, not over stout of limb,
Is stouter of the two.