The White Doe Of Rylstone

By William Wordsworth

This is an epic narrative, set during the late 16th century, centering around the historical events of the Rising of the North, a failed Catholic rebellion against Elizabeth I. It combines elements of historical drama with deep emotional and spiritual reflection, particularly on themes of faith, loss and peace.

A noble Catholic family, the Nortons, take part in a rebellion against Queen Elizabeth I, and it doesn't end well for them - reflecting the political and religious turmoil of the time. The historical setting gives the poem a deep sense of gravity, as it connects personal loss with national struggles - the Nortons’ hopes for religious freedom are crushed.

The white doe is a central, mystical figure in the poem. Pure and elusive, this animal has often represented a symbol of innocence, peace, and spiritual transcendence in poetry. The doe regularly visits the grave of Emily Norton after her death, and this symbolises the eternal peace and spiritual redemption she has attained. The idea of transcendence beyond earthly suffering is key, and the poem ends on a note of spiritual serenity despite the terrible tragedy that has come to pass.

Like many of Wordsworth’s works, 'The White Doe Of Rylstone' depicts a strong connection between nature and spirituality. The peaceful, pastoral landscape contrasts with the violence of the rebellion and human suffering. The natural setting of Rylstone and Bolton Abbey gives a backdrop of calm and continuity, reinforcing the idea that, despite human conflict, the natural world remains a source of healing and eternal peace.

Beautiful imagery, lovely vocabulary and haunting themes - this poem is well worth a read - enjoy!

IN trellised shed with clustering roses gay,

And, MARY! oft beside our blazing fire,

When yeas of wedded life were as a day

Whose current answers to the heart's desire,

Did we together read in Spenser's Lay

How Una, sad of soul--in sad attire,

The gentle Una, of celestial birth,

To seek her Knight went wandering o'er the earth.

Ah, then, Beloved! pleasing was the smart,

And the tear precious in compassion shed                   

For Her, who, pierced by sorrow's thrilling dart,

Did meekly bear the pang unmerited;

Meek as that emblem of her lowly heart

The milk-white Lamb which in a line she led,--

And faithful, loyal in her innocence,

Like the brave Lion slain in her defence.

Notes could we hear as of a faery shell

Attuned to words with sacred wisdom fraught;

Free Fancy prized each specious miracle,

And all its finer inspiration caught;                     

Till in the bosom of our rustic Cell,

We by a lamentable change were taught

That "bliss with mortal Man may not abide:"

How nearly joy and sorrow are allied!

For us the stream of fiction ceased to flow,

For us the voice of melody was mute.

--But, as soft gales dissolve the dreary snow,

And give the timid herbage leave to shoot,

Heaven's breathing influence failed not to bestow

A timely promise of unlooked-for fruit,                   

Fair fruit of pleasure and serene content

From blossoms wild of fancies innocent.

It soothed us--it beguiled us--then, to hear

Once more of troubles wrought by magic spell;

And griefs whose aery motion comes not near

The pangs that tempt the Spirit to rebel:

Then, with mild Una in her sober cheer,

High over hill and low adown the dell

Again we wandered, willing to partake

All that she suffered for her dear Lord's sake.           

Then, too, this Song 'of mine' once more could please,

Where anguish, strange as dreams of restless sleep,

Is tempered and allayed by sympathies

Aloft ascending, and descending deep,

Even to the inferior Kinds; whom forest-trees

Protect from beating sunbeams, and the sweep

Of the sharp winds;--fair Creatures!--to whom Heaven

A calm and sinless life, with love, hath given.

This tragic Story cheered us; for it speaks

Of female patience winning firm repose;                   

And, of the recompense that conscience seeks,

A bright, encouraging, example shows;

Needful when o'er wide realms the tempest breaks,

Needful amid life's ordinary woes;--

Hence, not for them unfitted who would bless

A happy hour with holier happiness.

He serves the Muses erringly and ill,

Whose aim is pleasure light and fugitive:

Oh, that my mind were equal to fulfil

The comprehensive mandate which they give--               

Vain aspiration of an earnest will!

Yet in this moral Strain a power may live,

Beloved Wife! such solace to impart

As it hath yielded to thy tender heart.