INSCRIPTIONS

FOR THE SPOT WHERE THE HERMITAGE STOOD ON ST. HERBERT'S ISLAND, DERWENTWATER

1800 1800

If thou in the dear love of some one Friend

Hast been so happy that thou know'st what thoughts

Will sometimes in the happiness of love

Make the heart sink, then wilt thou reverence

This quiet spot; and, Stranger! not unmoved

Wilt thou behold this shapeless heap of stones,
The desolate ruins of St. Herbert's Cell.

Here stood his threshold; here was spread the roof
That sheltered him, a self-secluded Man,

After long exercise in social cares

And offices humane, intent to adore
The Deity, with undistracted mind,
And meditate on everlasting things,
In utter solitude. But he had left

--

A Fellow-labourer, whom the good Man loved
As his own soul. And, when with eye upraised

To heaven he knelt before the crucifix,

While o'er the lake the cataract of Lodore

Pealed to his orisons, and when he paced

Along the beach of this small isle and thought
Of his Companion, he would pray that both
(Now that their earthly duties were fulfilled)
Might die in the same moment. Nor in vain
So prayed he:- as our chronicles report,
Though here the Hermit numbered his last day
Far from St. Cuthbert his beloved Friend,
Those holy Men both died in the same hour.

WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL UPON A STONE IN THE WALL

OF THE HOUSE (AN OUTHOUSE), ON THE ISLAND AT

GRASMERE

1800 1800

RUDE is this Edifice, and Thou hast seen
Buildings, albeit rude, that have maintained
Proportions more harmonious, and approached
To closer fellowship with ideal grace.
But take it in good part:- alas! the poor

Vitruvius of our village had no help
From the great City; never, upon leaves

Of red Morocco folio, saw displayed,
In long succession, pre-existing ghosts

Of Beauties yet unborn - the rustic Lodge
Antique, and Cottage with verandah graced,
Nor lacking, for fit company, alcove,

Green-house, shell-grot, and moss-lined hermitage.

The Bracken Harvest