While o’er the lake the cataract of Lodore
  Peal’d to his orisons, and when he pac’d
  Along the beach of this small isle and thought
  Of his Companion, he had pray’d that both
  Might die in the same moment.  Nor in vain
  So pray’d he:—­as our Chronicles report,
  Though here the Hermit number’d his last days,
  Far from St. Cuthbert his beloved friend,
  Those holy men both died in the same hour. 1800.

The text of the editions of 1802 and 1805 (which are identical), omits one line of the text of 1800.  The passage reads: 

  He dwelt in solitude.—­But he had left
  A Fellow-labourer, whom ...

And the following variants occur in 1802 and 1805: 

  Make the heart sick, ....

  ... he would pray that both

The text of 1815, which is continued in 1820, begins thus: 

  This Island, guarded from profane approach
  By mountains high and waters widely spread,
  Is that recess to which St. Herbert came
  In life’s decline; a self-secluded Man,
  After long exercise in social cares
  And offices humane, intent to adore
  The Deity, with undistracted mind,
  And meditate on everlasting things. 
—­Stranger! this shapeless heap of stones and earth
  (Long be its mossy covering undisturbed!)
  Is reverenced as a vestige of the Abode
  In which, through many seasons, from the world
  Removed, and the affections of the world,
  He dwelt in solitude.—­But he had left
  A Fellow-labourer, ... 1815 and 1820.

In 1827 the poem began thus: 

  Stranger! this shapeless heap of stones and earth
  Is the last relic of St. Herbert’s Cell. 
  Here stood his threshold; here was spread the roof
  That sheltered him, a self-secluded Man, 1827.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A:  Compare the last stanza of “Strange fits of passion have I known,” p. 79 of this volume.—­Ed.]

The “shapeless heap of stones” in St. Herbert’s Island, which were “desolate ruins” in 1800, are even more “shapeless” and “desolate” now, but they can easily be identified.  The island is near the centre of the lake, and is in area about four acres.  The legend of St. Herbert dates from the middle of the seventh century.  The rector of Clifton, Westmoreland, Dr. Robinson, writing in 1819, says: 

“The remains of his hermitage are still visible, being built of stone and mortar, and formed into two apartments, one of which, about twenty feet long and sixteen feet wide, seems to have been his chapel; the other, of less dimensions, his cell.  Near these ruins the late Sir Wilfred Lawson (to whose representative the island at present belongs) erected some years ago a small octagonal cottage, which, being built of unhewn stone, and artificially mossed over, has a venerable appearance.”

(See Guide to the Lakes, by John Robinson, D.D., 1819).  This cottage has now disappeared.  The following version of this “Inscription” occurs in a letter from Wordsworth to Lady Beaumont, dated 26th November 1811: