Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-05-10

/ where the dark roadway seems to make q
| final circle over the brow Of the hill to the
left, you pause to listen. Something like
low and heaitsnt organ notes Is murmurins
In minor chords, while q gay and joyous
treble plays In exultant tones above. Ali
| you remember. These are the voices Of the
| two cascades of Rydal. Their songs were
sung to one post for 40 happy years.
Where the Poet Lived.
| A step farther, and the bright sunshine
leaps along and through the tree tops, a. II
impatient to food its effulgence upon one
little spot. On that spot stands an Ivy
covered old house, two stories in height,
with all manner Of angles and patches; with
huge chimneys aud wondrous gables; with
windows cut here and there at random, or
pushed outward in bows and bays; with
doors entering ns though made for conven-
ience and not appearance; and the whole
with general air Of having been done at
different periods BY various masters, each OF
whom labored leisurely in fond and whim-
sical mood. In front is the tiniest Of grass
mounds, and wide steps of rough-hewn
stone lead this way and that. as II to invisi-
BILE entrances; but as you see all-grass
mound, steps, haifdisclosed terraces, and
the mansion itself facing the south squarely
there was never a more winaoms picture
set in frame of laurel, yew, beech and fir;
and never will you see another home where
the very spirit of peace seems so embodied
In outward material things, giving rapt and
radiant welcome to the endless threnodies of
waters and throbbings Of loving sun.
This il Rydal Mount, the former home Of
Wordsworth. Rydal Water, to the north,
and the long, dreamful reach of Winder-
mere can be seen from the grass mound in
the little inclosure. From every upper
window, mountain, valley and lake smile
back from glorious perspective upon the be-
holder. With the poets long, happy and
fruitful life at Rydal every reader Of En-
glish literature Is familiar.
Haunts the Poet Loved.
The vale of St. John, at the foot Of Hel.
vellyn, was q never-ending feast to him.
He fingered times without number around
Wythburn Church. Thirlmere, to which
the city of Manchester has tunnelled for
what will prove the finest water supply in
the world, and against the consummation of
which Mr.. Ruskin, with more regard for
selfish enjoyment of the lake region than
the needs of hosts Of human beings, fought
long and bitterly, was an almost constant
haunt Here Wordsworth. in company
with his wife and his sister Dorothy, almost
daily came in summer. In the earlier days
Coleridge would come over from Keswick
and meet the three friends from Grasmere.
The ladies brought their sewing and lunch,
and the two poets furnished the soul am
brosia. Commemorative of these golden
hours the poets had their names cut upon
the Rock Of Names at Thirlmere, and il
was to this rock that Wordsworth addressed
the apostrophe,
thought Of pain,
That would impair ir or profanel
No fear of that; but the great walls Man.
chester Is building at the lower end Of
Thirlmere, ito increase its depth, will cause
the Rock Of Names to be permanently sub
merged. Some future Schlieman will
find 1t.
Brooding by Easdale Tarn.
On the way from Grasmere to Thirlmere
spot forming the northwestern boundary Of
Grasmere was undoubtedly Wordsworth's
most frequented and passionately loved re-
sort. This is Easdale. It is one of the
most accessible though least visited places
In the lake region. It runs far into the
northern hills on the western side of Helm
Crag. In its upper reach Is Q bittern
haunted, shadowy tarn, which IL discharged
through the foaming Sour Milk Ghyll not
q mile from the highway OF Grasmere.
Wordsworth loved to claim Easdale a. all
his own, and he was jealous Of intrusion
here.
When residing at Grasmere, . half hours
walk would enable him to penetrate its
depths; and he so grew to the place that
when he had removed to Rydal, three miles
to the south. nearly every day, rain or shine,
found him seeking the companionship Of Its
tender solitudes. The loftisst passages of
the Excursion" were written here; and It
was the very essence Of the poets life to
brood BY Essdsle tsrn, with IN intensity Of
passion, on those images Of nature which
his noble fancy brought from near and afar,
and nodded into fadeless forms for the meas
urelss world Of poetic thought
EDGAR L. WAxnNAx,