n098

I.e., Thomas West. Wordsworth once again quotes West’s Antiquities of Furness (1774), as he clarifies two pages later. This is by far the longest direct quotation
in the Guide, further suggesting Wordsworth’s regard for West.

n096

From Wordsworth’s sonnet, “The Monument Commonly Called Long Meg and her Daughter,
near the River Eden,” composed 1821 and first published in A Description of the Scenery of the Lakes (the first stand-alone edition of the Guide and the third edition overall, 1822). A revised version later appeared in Yarrow Revisited as one of the 1833 itinerary poems.

n094

The friend is Thomas Wilkinson of Yanwath, a local antiquary. See Owen and Smyser
for more details on Wilkinson and the story Wordsworth tells here.

n093

Wordsworth quotes from Thomas West’s The Antiquities of Furness (1774).

n092

John Brown (1715-1766). Praising him as “the first who led the way to a worthy admiration
of this country,” Wordsworth probably recalls Brown’s A Description of the Lake at Keswick (1767), a book mentioned by name later in the Guide. Brown’s “Now Sunk the Sun” first appeared in Richard Cumberland’s Odes (1776) and was reprinted in West’s Guide, editions 2–11, where Wordsworth may have encountered it (Wu, Wordsworth’s Reading, 1770–1799, 19). The poem also appeared in various contemporary anthologies, identified as a
“rhapsody” inspired by the Westmorland lakes.

n091

Wordsworth alludes to the opening chapter of Samuel Johnson’s The History of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia (1759): “The place which the wisdom or policy of antiquity had destined for the residence
of the Abyssinian princes was a spacious valley…surrounded on every side by mountains,
of which the summits overhang the middle part. The only passage by which it could
be entered was a cavern that passed under a rock.”

n090

Paradise Lost, IV.606-07.

n089

The poet is George Buchanan (1506–1582), the poem “Calendae Maiae.” De Selincourt
gives the Latin lines and supplies this translation from Peter Hume Brown’s 1890 Buchanan
biography:

When, still rejoicing in her birth,
Spring brightened all the new-made earth
And in that happy golden age
Men knew no lawless passions rage,
Thy train of joys embraced the year:
Soft breezes wooed the untilled field
Its blessings all unforced to yield.
Even in such mildest atmosphere
For ever bask those happy isles,
Those blessèd Plains, that never know
Life’s slow decay, or poisoned flow.
Thus ‘mid the still abodes of death
Should steal the soft air’s softest breath,
And gently stir the solemn wood
That glooms o’er Lethe’s dreamless flood.
And, haply when made pure of stain
By cleansing fire, the earth renewed
Shall know her ancient joys again,
Even such mild air shall o’er her brood.