The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry, 55
This Dog, had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.
Repeating the same timid cry, 55
This Dog, had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.
William Wordsworth
"
I will add that the sentiment in the last four lines of the last stanza
of my verses was uttered by a shepherd with such exactness, that a
traveller, who afterwards reported his account in print, was induced to
question the man whether he had read them, which he had not. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;
He halts--and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:
And now at distance can discern 5
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing through that covert green. [1]
The Dog is not of mountain breed;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy; 10
With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:
Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in hollow or on height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear; 15
What is the creature doing here?
It was a cove, a huge recess,
That keeps, till June, December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,
A silent tarn [A] below! [B] 20
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;
From trace of human foot or hand.
There sometimes doth [2] a leaping fish 25
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
The crags repeat the raven's croak, [C]
In symphony austere;
Thither the rainbow comes--the cloud--
And mists that spread the flying shroud; 30
And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past;
But that enormous barrier holds [3] it fast.
Not free from boding thoughts, [4] a while
The Shepherd stood; then makes his way 35
O'er rocks and stones, following the Dog [5]
As quickly as he may;
Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground;
The appalled Discoverer with a sigh [6] 40
Looks round, to learn the history.
From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The Man had fallen, that place of fear!
At length upon the Shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear: 45
He instantly recalled the name, [7]
And who he was, and whence he came;
Remembered, too, the very day
On which the Traveller passed this way.
But hear a wonder, for whose sake 50
This lamentable tale I tell! [8]
A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.
The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry, 55
This Dog, had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.
Yes, proof was plain that, since the day
When this ill-fated Traveller died, [9]
The Dog had watched about the spot, 60
Or by his master's side:
How nourished here through such long time
He knows, who gave that love sublime;
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate! 65
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1820.
From which immediately leaps out
A Dog, and yelping runs about. 1807.
And instantly a Dog is seen,
Glancing from that covert green. 1815. ]
[Variant 2:
1820.
. . . does . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1837.
I will add that the sentiment in the last four lines of the last stanza
of my verses was uttered by a shepherd with such exactness, that a
traveller, who afterwards reported his account in print, was induced to
question the man whether he had read them, which he had not. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;
He halts--and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:
And now at distance can discern 5
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing through that covert green. [1]
The Dog is not of mountain breed;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy; 10
With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:
Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in hollow or on height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear; 15
What is the creature doing here?
It was a cove, a huge recess,
That keeps, till June, December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,
A silent tarn [A] below! [B] 20
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;
From trace of human foot or hand.
There sometimes doth [2] a leaping fish 25
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
The crags repeat the raven's croak, [C]
In symphony austere;
Thither the rainbow comes--the cloud--
And mists that spread the flying shroud; 30
And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past;
But that enormous barrier holds [3] it fast.
Not free from boding thoughts, [4] a while
The Shepherd stood; then makes his way 35
O'er rocks and stones, following the Dog [5]
As quickly as he may;
Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground;
The appalled Discoverer with a sigh [6] 40
Looks round, to learn the history.
From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The Man had fallen, that place of fear!
At length upon the Shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear: 45
He instantly recalled the name, [7]
And who he was, and whence he came;
Remembered, too, the very day
On which the Traveller passed this way.
But hear a wonder, for whose sake 50
This lamentable tale I tell! [8]
A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.
The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry, 55
This Dog, had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.
Yes, proof was plain that, since the day
When this ill-fated Traveller died, [9]
The Dog had watched about the spot, 60
Or by his master's side:
How nourished here through such long time
He knows, who gave that love sublime;
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate! 65
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1820.
From which immediately leaps out
A Dog, and yelping runs about. 1807.
And instantly a Dog is seen,
Glancing from that covert green. 1815. ]
[Variant 2:
1820.
. . . does . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1837.
