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.--St. Herbert hither came And here, for many seasons, from the world Remov'd, and the affections of the world He dwelt in solitude. He living here, This island's sole inhabitant! had left A Fellow-labourer, whom the good Man lov'd As his own soul; and when within his cave Alone he knelt before the crucifix While o'er the lake the cataract of Lodore Peal'd to his orisons, and when he pac'd Along the beach of this small isle and thought Of his Companion, he had pray'd that both Might die in the same moment. Nor in vain So pray'd he:--as our Chronicles report, Though here the Hermit number'd his last days, Far from St. Cuthbert his beloved friend, Those holy men both died in the same hour. 1800. The text of the editions of 1802 and 1805 (which are identical), omits one line of the text of 1800. The passage reads: He dwelt in solitude.--But he had left A Fellow-labourer, whom ... And the following variants occur in 1802 and 1805: Make the heart sick, .... ... he would pray that both The text of 1815, which is continued in 1820, begins thus: This Island, guarded from profane approach By mountains high and waters widely spread, Is that recess to which St. Herbert came In life's decline; 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. --Stranger! this shapeless heap of stones and earth (Long be its mossy covering undisturbed!) Is reverenced as a vestige of the Abode In which, through many seasons, from the world Removed, and the affections of the world, He dwelt in solitude.--But he had left A Fellow-labourer, ... 1815 and 1820. In 1827 the poem began thus: Stranger! this shapeless heap of stones and earth Is the last relic of St. Herbert's Cell. Here stood his threshold; here was spread the roof That sheltered him, a self-secluded Man, 1827.] * * * * * FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT [Footnote A: Compare the last stanza of "Strange fits of passion have I known," p. 79 of this volume.--Ed.] The "shapeless heap of stones" in St. Herbert's Island, which were "desolate ruins" in 1800, are even more "shapeless" and "desolate" now, but they can easily be identified. The island is near the centre of the lake, and is in area about four acres. The legend of St. Herbert dates from the middle of the seventh century. The rector of Clifton, Westmoreland, Dr. Robinson, writing in 1819, says: