The dwelling raised. Fantastic slave of spleen He sought by shunning thus the neighbouring sea, Refuge from memory of a listless life C. The habitation raised, a slave of spleen, C. The weary man turned from the neighbouring sea MS. XIX BY A RETIRED MARINER[864] (A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR) [Mrs. Wordsworth's Brother, Henry.[865]--I. F.] From early youth I ploughed the restless Main, My mind as restless and as apt to change; Through every clime and ocean did I range, In hope at length a competence to gain; For poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain. 5 Year after year I strove, but strove in vain, And hardships manifold did I endure, For Fortune on me never deign'd to smile; Yet I at last a resting-place have found, With just enough life's comforts to procure, 10 In a snug Cove on this our favoured Isle, A peaceful spot where Nature's gifts abound; Then sure I have no reason to complain, Though poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain. FOOTNOTES: [864] This unpretending Sonnet is by a gentleman nearly connected with me, and I hope, as it falls so easily into its place, that both the writer and the reader will excuse its appearance here.--W. W. 1835. [865] Mr. Henry Hutchinson, Mrs. Wordsworth's brother, was--the Bishop of Lincoln tells us--"a person of great originality and vigour of mind, a very enterprising sailor, and a writer of verses distinguished by no ordinary merit."--See the _Memoirs of Wordsworth_, vol. ii. p. 246.--ED. XX AT BALA-SALA, ISLE OF MAN (SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY A FRIEND) [Supposed to be written by a friend (Mr. Cookson), who died there a few years after.[866]--I. F.] Broken in fortune, but in mind entire And sound in principle, I seek repose Where ancient trees this convent-pile enclose,[867] In ruin beautiful. When vain desire Intrudes on peace, I pray the eternal Sire 5 To cast a soul-subduing shade on me, A grey-haired, pensive, thankful Refugee; A shade--but with some sparks of heavenly fire Once to these cells vouchsafed.[868] And when I note The old Tower's brow yellowed as with the beams 10 Of sunset ever there,[869] albeit streams[870] Of stormy weather-stains that semblance wrought, I thank the silent Monitor, and say "Shine so, my aged brow, at all hours of the day!" FOOTNOTES: [866] Henry Crabb Robinson--the Wordsworths' companion in the tour, wrote in his Journal, 14th July: "At Ballasalla called on Mr. and Mrs. Cookson, esteemed friends of the W.'s, whom adversity had driven to this asylum."--ED. [867] Rushen Abbey.--W. W. 1835. [868] 1835. ... with such sparks of holy fire As once were cherished here....