From John Thelwall, Poems Chiefly Written in Retirement. London: R. Phillips, 1801.
From Prefatory Memoir, pp. xxxv-xxxviThe assistance of a few friends enabled him to stock a little farm, of about five-and-thirty acres, in the obscure and romantic village of Llys-Wen, in Brecknockshire: a scene once famous in Cambrian story, as one of the residences of Roderick the Great; from whose White Palace it derives its name.
In the election of this spot, so far as it might be considered elective (for he had already devoted four months to a pedestrian excursion, in unavailing search for an elegible retreat:) Thelwall was principally influenced by the wild and picturesque scenery of the neighbourhood. For the village (embowered with orchards, and over-shadowed by grotesque mountains) is sweetly situated upon the banks of the Wye, at one of the most beautiful, tho least visited, parts of that unrivalled river; and the cottage itself, thro the branches of the surrounding fruit trees, catches a glympse ----- while its alcove (elevated on the remains of an old sepulchral tumulus) commands the full view, of one of the characteristic and more-than-crescent curves of that ever-varying stream; with its glassy pool sleeping beneath the reflected bank, its rapids above, and roaring cataracts below, bordered with plantations and pendant woods, and diversified with rocks and pastures.
Thelwall's daughter died unexpectedly on December 28th 1799, aged 6. Several of the poems in the collection refer to this event, including the following (pp. 150-151).
Effusion III.
On the Banks of the Wye. May 15, 1800.
ALONG thy varying banks, sequester'd Wye,
At eve, I wander mournfully -- full oft
Thridding the tangled maze, or under shade
Of hoary oaks, that over-hang thy stream,
Courting congenial gloom: but not, as erst,
Or with the Painter's, or the Poet's glance,
Noting thy wild varieties. No more
Thy haunts romantic charm. No more mine eyes
(Dim with their griefs) from tint or varied line
Receive with accustom'd joyance. Rocks, and falls,
And deep-worn pools reflective, and ye woods
Wash'd by the eddying stream, and you, ye hills
Of fearful height, in wild perspective heap'd,
Closing the sinuous valley, what to me
Are all your varied forms? -- Ah! what the charm
Of beauteous or sublime? -- the scenes that nurse
Romantic vision, or invite the skill
Of imitative effort? ---- Other forms
Possess my weeping fancy: other thoughts,
Rending the grief-swoln bosom, vail the eye
In dim abstraction; and my troubled soul,
Here while I rove, is absent; nor remains
Ought but the wandering shade of him who erst
Trac'd your wild haunts delighted. To that spot
Where buds the white-thorn o'er the tursted grave
Turn my sad thoughts ---- there -- there incessant dwell,
While, with paternal anguish, oft my lips
Breathe thy lov'd name, Maria! -- Oh! Maria!
First born of Love! and fondling of my heart!
In thee my hopes are blighted -- blighted all
The varied charms of Nature. All that once,
With grace or mingled harmony, could thrill
Sight or the list'ning sense, unheeded meets
The unconscious organ; save where memory marks
Some fond memorial -- some remember'd scene
Of sweet endearment, where reclining erst
(Pensive, perchance, beside the rushing stream,
That moan'd responsive) I have heard the voice
Of my lost darling, lisping kindliest notes
Of soothing gentleness, that from my heart
Chac'd every woe; or where, perchance, her form
Disporting gaily, with attractive charm,
Full in my view has bounded: -- joy and health
Blending with graceful loveliness. ---- At sight
Of such mute record, in afflictive trance,
Groaning I pause: from my dim eyes, suffus'd,
Tears stream afresh; and, down the echoing Wye,
Woods, waves, and rocks repeat Maria's name.
Document prepared July 5th 2001