[So named from the religious House that stood close by. I have rather an odd anecdote to relate of the Nun's Well. One day the landlady of a public-house, a field's length from the well, on the roadside, said to me--"You have been to see the Nun's Well, Sir?" "The Nun's Well! what is that?" said the Postman, who in his royal livery stopt his mail-car at the door. The landlady and I explained to him what the name meant, and what sort of people the nuns were. A countryman who was standing by, rather tipsy, stammered out--"Aye, those nuns were good people; they are gone; but we shall soon have them back again." The Reform mania was just then at its height.--I.F.] The cattle crowding round this beverage clear To slake their thirst, with reckless hoofs have trod The encircling turf into a barren clod; Through which the waters creep, then disappear, Born to be lost in Derwent flowing near; 5 Yet, o'er the brink, and round the lime-stone cell Of the pure spring (they call it the "Nun's Well," Name that first struck by chance my startled ear) A tender Spirit broods--the pensive Shade Of ritual honours to this Fountain paid 10 By hooded Votaresses[806] with saintly cheer;[807] Albeit oft the Virgin-mother mild Looked down with pity upon eyes beguiled Into the shedding of "too soft a tear."[808] FOOTNOTES: [806] 1837. ... Votaries ... 1835. [807] Attached to the church of Brigham was formerly a chantry, which held a moiety of the manor; and in the decayed parsonage some vestiges of monastic architecture are still to be seen.--W. W. 1835. [808] See Pope's _Eloïsa to Abelard_, l. 224.--ED. IX TO A FRIEND[809] (ON THE BANKS OF THE DERWENT) [My son John, who was then building a parsonage on his small living at Brigham.--I.F.] Pastor and Patriot!--at whose bidding rise These modest walls, amid a flock that need, For one who comes to watch them and to feed, A fixed Abode--keep down presageful sighs.[810] Threats, which the unthinking only can despise, 5 Perplex the Church; but be thou firm,--be true To thy first hope, and this good work pursue, Poor as thou art. A welcome sacrifice Dost Thou prepare, whose sign will be the smoke[811] Of thy new hearth; and sooner shall its wreaths, 10 Mounting while earth her morning incense breathes, From wandering fiends of air receive a yoke, And straightway cease to aspire, than God disdain This humble tribute as ill-timed or vain. FOOTNOTES: [809] John Wordsworth, the poet's son, the subject of this sonnet, was incumbent of Moresby, near Whitehaven, before he went to Brigham. See the Fenwick note to the lines, _Composed by the Sea-shore_, p. 340. In 1833 Wordsworth wrote to Lady Beaumont:--