book iii
. l. 947 (vol. v. p. 140), and the note [dagger] in that page,
with the appendix note C, p. 393.--ED.
[510] Compare the two last lines of the poem _To a Skylark_, 1825--
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!--ED.
[511] Compare in Shelley's _Ode to the Skylark_, stanza ii.--
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.--ED.
[512] This stanza was included in the _Morning Exercise_, for the first time, in 1845. It had been previously the second stanza of the poem _To a Skylark_, composed in 1825, and first published in 1827.--ED.
[513] 1836.
The harmony that thou best lovest to make 1832.
[514] 1836.
... his blank domain! 1832.
[515] The muse who presided over astronomy.--ED.
[516] Compare, in Addison's hymn in _The Spectator_, No. 465 (August 23), stanza iii. l. 7--
For ever singing as they shine.--ED.
THE TRIAD[517]
Composed 1828.--Published 1829 (in _The Keepsake_)
[Written at Rydal Mount. The girls, Edith Southey, my daughter Dora, and Sara Coleridge.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
Show me the noblest Youth of present time, Whose trembling fancy would to love give birth; Some God or Hero, from the Olympian clime Returned, to seek a Consort upon earth; Or, in no doubtful prospect, let me see 5 The brightest star of ages yet to be, And I will mate and match him blissfully.
I will not fetch a Naiad from a flood Pure as herself--(song lacks not mightier power) Nor leaf-crowned Dryad from a pathless wood, 10 Nor Sea-nymph glistening from her coral bower; Mere Mortals bodied forth in vision still, Shall with Mount Ida's triple lustre fill[518] The chaster coverts of a British hill.
"Appear!--obey my lyre's command! 15 Come, like the Graces, hand in hand![519] For ye, though not by birth allied, Are Sisters in the bond of love; Nor shall the tongue of envious pride Presume those interweavings to reprove 20 In you, which that fair progeny of Jove, Learned[520] from the tuneful spheres that glide In endless union, earth and sea above." --I sing[521] in vain;--the pines have hushed their waving: A peerless Youth expectant at my side, 25 Breathless as they, with unabated craving Looks to the earth, and to the vacant air; And, with a wandering eye that seems to chide, Asks of the clouds what occupants they hide:-- But why solicit more than sight could bear, 30 By casting on a moment all we dare? Invoke we those bright Beings one by one; And what was boldly promised, truly shall be done.
"Fear not a constraining measure! --Yielding to this gentle spell,[522] 35 Lucida![523] from domes of pleasure, Or from cottage-sprinkled dell, Come to regions solitary, Where the eagle builds her aery, Above the hermit's long-forsaken cell!" 40 --She comes!--behold That Figure, like a ship with snow-white sail![524] Nearer she draws; a breeze uplifts her veil; Upon her coming wait As pure a sunshine and as soft a gale 45 As e'er, on herbage covering earthly mold, Tempted the bird of Juno[525] to unfold His richest splendour--when his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain 50 Of music, audible to him alone.
"O Lady, worthy of earth's proudest throne! Nor less, by excellence of nature, fit Beside an unambitious hearth to sit Domestic queen, where grandeur is unknown; 55 What living man could fear The worst of Fortune's malice, wert Thou near, Humbling that lily-stem, thy sceptre meek, That its fair flowers may from his cheek Brush the too happy tear?[526] 60 ---- Queen, and handmaid lowly! Whose skill can speed the day with lively cares, And banish melancholy By all that mind invents or hand prepares; O Thou, against whose lip, without its smile 65 And in its silence even, no heart is proof; Whose goodness, sinking deep, would reconcile The softest Nursling of a gorgeous palace To the bare life beneath the hawthorn-roof Of Sherwood's Archer,[527] or in caves of Wallace-- Who that hath seen thy beauty could content 71 His soul with but a _glimpse_ of heavenly day? Who that hath loved thee, but would lay His strong hand on the wind, if it were bent To take thee in thy majesty away? 75 --Pass onward (even the glancing deer Till we depart intrude not here;) That mossy slope, o'er which the woodbine throws A canopy, is smoothed for thy repose!"
Glad moment is it[528] when the throng 80 Of warblers in full concert strong Strive, and not vainly strive, to rout The lagging shower, and force coy Phoebus out, Met by the rainbow's form divine, Issuing from her cloudy shrine;-- 85 So may the thrillings of the lyre Prevail to further our desire, While to these shades a sister Nymph I call.
"Come, if the notes thine ear may pierce, Come, youngest of the lovely Three,[529] 90 Submissive to the might of verse And the dear voice of harmony, By none[530] more deeply felt than Thee!" --I sang; and lo! from pastimes virginal She hastens to the tents 95 Of nature, and the lonely elements. Air sparkles round her with a dazzling sheen; But[531] mark her glowing cheek, her vesture green! And, as if wishful to disarm Or to repay the potent Charm, 100 She bears the stringèd lute of old romance, That cheered the trellised arbour's privacy, And soothed war-wearied knights in raftered hall. How vivid, yet[532] how delicate, her glee! So tripped the Muse, inventress of the dance; 105 So, truant in waste woods, the blithe Euphrosyne![533]
But the ringlets of that head Why are they ungarlanded? Why bedeck her temples less Than the simplest shepherdess? 110 Is it not a brow inviting Choicest flowers[534] that ever breathed, Which the myrtle would delight in With Idalian rose enwreathed? But her humility is well content 115 With _one_ wild floweret (call it not forlorn) FLOWER OF THE WINDS,[535] beneath her bosom worn-- Yet[536] more for love than ornament.
Open, ye thickets! let her fly, Swift as a Thracian Nymph o'er field and height! 120 For She, to all but those who love her, shy, Would gladly vanish from a Stranger's sight; Though where she is beloved and loves, Light as the wheeling butterfly she moves; Her happy spirit as a bird is free, 125 That rifles blossoms on a tree,[537] Turning them inside out with arch audacity. Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays; 130 A face o'er which a thousand shadows go! --She stops--is fastened to that rivulet's side; And there (while, with sedater mien, O'er timid waters that have scarcely left Their birth-place in the rocky cleft 135 She bends) at leisure may be seen Features to old ideal grace allied,[538] Amid their smiles and dimples dignified-- Fit countenance for the soul of primal truth; The bland composure of eternal youth! 140
What more changeful than the sea? But over his great tides Fidelity presides; And this light-hearted Maiden constant is as he. High is her aim as heaven above, 145 And wide as ether her good-will; And, like the lowly reed, her love Can drink its nurture from the scantiest rill: Insight as keen as frosty star Is to _her_ charity no bar, 150 Nor interrupts her frolic graces When she is, far from these wild places, Encircled by familiar faces.
O the charm that manners draw, Nature, from thy genuine law![539] 155 If from what her hand would do, Her voice would utter, aught ensue Untoward[540] or unfit; She, in benign affections pure, In self-forgetfulness secure, 160 Sheds round the transient harm or vague mischance A light unknown to tutored elegance:[541] Her's is not a cheek shame-stricken, But her blushes are joy-flushes; And the fault (if fault it be) 165 Only ministers to quicken Laughter-loving gaiety, And kindle sportive wit--- Leaving this Daughter of the mountains free[542] As if she knew that Oberon king of Faery[543] 170 Had crossed her purpose with some quaint vagary, And heard his viewless bands Over their mirthful triumph clapping hands.
"Last of the Three, though eldest born,[544] Reveal thyself, like pensive Morn 175 Touched by the skylark's earliest note, Ere humbler gladness be afloat. But whether in the semblance drest Of Dawn--or Eve, fair vision of the west, Come with each anxious hope subdued 180 By woman's gentle fortitude, Each grief, through meekness, settling into rest. --Or I would hail thee when some high-wrought page Of a closed volume lingering in thy hand Has raised thy spirit to a peaceful stand 185 Among the glories of a happier age."
Her brow hath opened on me--see it there, Brightening the umbrage of her hair; So gleams the crescent moon, that loves To be descried through shady groves. 190 Tenderest bloom is on her cheek; Wish not for a richer streak; Nor dread the depth of meditative eye; But let thy love, upon that azure field Of thoughtfulness and beauty, yield 195 Its homage offered up in purity. What would'st thou more? In sunny glade, Or under leaves of thickest shade, Was such a stillness e'er diffused Since earth grew calm while angels mused? 200 Softly she treads, as if her foot were loth To crush the mountain dew-drops--soon to melt On the flower's breast; as if she felt That flowers themselves, whate'er their hue, With all their fragrance, all their glistening, 205 Call to the heart for inward listening-- And though for bridal wreaths and tokens true Welcomed wisely; though a growth Which the careless shepherd sleeps on, As fitly spring from turf the mourner weeps on-- And without wrong are cropped the marble tomb to strew. 211 The Charm is over;[545] the mute Phantoms gone, Nor will return--but droop not, favoured Youth; The apparition that before thee shone Obeyed a summons covetous of truth. 215 From these wild rocks thy footsteps I will guide To bowers in which thy fortune may be tried, And one of the bright Three become thy happy Bride.
The Triad was first published in _The Keepsake_, in 1829, and next in the 1832 edition of the Poems. See the criticism passed upon it by one of the three described, viz., Sara Coleridge, in her _Memoirs_, vol. ii. pp. 409-10. Of this poem Mr. Aubrey de Vere writes, "perhaps the most _accomplished_ of Wordsworth's works, and the most unlike his earlier manner."--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[517] This poem is called _The Promise_, in a letter written upon its publication in _The Keepsake_.--ED.
[518] The Phrygian Ida was a many-branched range of mountains; two subordinate ranges, parting from the principal summit, enclosed Troy as with a crescent. The Cretan Ida terminated in three snowy peaks. There may be a reference to Skiddaw's triple summit in the "British hill."--ED.
[519] The Charites--Aglaia, Thalia, and Euphrosyne--were usually represented with hands joined, as a token of graciousness and friendship.--ED.
[520] 1836.
And not the boldest tongue of envious pride In you those interweavings could reprove Which They, the progeny of Jove, Learnt ... 1829.
[521] 1836.
--I speak ... 1829.
[522] 1836.
... this constraining measure! Drawn by a poetic spell, 1829.
[523] Edith Southey.--ED.
[524] 1845.
... with silver sail! 1832.
[525] The peacock.--ED.
[526] 1845.
... may brush from off his cheek The too, too happy tear! 1832.
[527] Robin Hood.--ED.
[528] The following version of ll. 80-101, is given in a MS. letter:--
Like notes of birds that after showers In April concert try their powers, And with a tumult and a rout Of warbling, force coy Phoebus out; Or bid some dark cloud's bosom show That form divine, the many-coloured Bow. E'en so the thrillings of the Lyre Prevail to further our desire, While to these shades a Nymph I call. The youngest of the lovely three; With glowing cheeks from pastimes virginal Behold her hastening to the tents Of Nature, and the lonely elements! And as if wishful to disarm Or to repay the tuneful charm She bears the stringed lute of old Romance,--ED.
[529] Dora Wordsworth.--ED.
[530] 1836.
... a Nymph I call, The youngest of the lovely Three.-- "Come, if the notes thine ear may pierce, Submissive to the might of verse, By none ... 1820.
[531] 1836.
And ... 1829.
[532] 1836.
How light her air!... 1829.
[533] Compare _L'Allegro_, ll. 11-13--
Thou Goddess fair and free In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, And by men heart-easing Mirth.--ED.
[534] 1832.
Choicest flower ... 1829.
[535] The wild anemone.--ED.
[536] 1836.
Yet is it ... 1829.
[537] 1836.
Though where she is beloved and loves, as free As bird that rifles blossoms on a tree, 1829.
[538] According to Sara Coleridge this was an allusion to a likeness supposed to have been found in the poet's daughter's countenance to the Memnon Head in the British Museum. See Sara Coleridge's _Memoirs_, vol. ii. p. 410.--ED.
[539] 1840.
... the genuine law. 1836.
[540] 1845.
... there ensue Aught untoward ... 1832.
[541] 1832.
Nature, from thy perfect law! Through benign affections pure In the light of self secure, If from what her hand would do Or tongue utter, there ensue Aught untoward or unfit, Transient mischief, vague mischance Shunned by guarded elegance. 1829.
[542] 1829.
Only minister to quicken Sallies of instinctive wit; Unchecked in laughter-loving gaiety In all the motions of her spirit free. MS.
[543] 1832.
... that Oberon the fairy 1829.
[544] Sara Coleridge.--ED.
[545] Compare in _The Wishing-Gate Destroyed_, stanza 4--
... the charm is fled.--ED.
THE WISHING-GATE
Composed 1828.--Published 1829
[Written at Rydal Mount. See also _Wishing-gate Destroyed_.--I. F.]
In the vale of Grasmere, by the side of the old high-way leading to Ambleside, is a gate, which, time out of mind, has been called the Wishing-gate, from a belief that wishes formed or indulged there have a favourable issue.--W. W. 1828.[546]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
Hope rules a land for ever green: All powers that serve the bright-eyed Queen Are confident and gay; Clouds at her bidding disappear; Points she to aught?--the bliss draws near, 5 And Fancy smooths the way.
Not such the land of Wishes--there Dwell fruitless day-dreams, lawless prayer, And thoughts with things at strife; Yet how forlorn, should _ye_ depart, 10 Ye superstitions of the _heart_, How poor, were human life!
When magic lore abjured its might, Ye did not forfeit one dear right, One tender claim abate; 15 Witness this symbol of your sway, Surviving near the public way, The rustic Wishing-gate!
Inquire not if the faery race Shed kindly influence on the place, 20 Ere northward they retired; If here a warrior left a spell, Panting for glory as he fell; Or here a saint expired.
Enough that all around is fair, 25 Composed with Nature's finest care, And in her fondest love-- Peace to embosom and content-- To overawe the turbulent, The selfish to reprove. 30
Yea![547] even the Stranger from afar, Reclining on this moss-grown bar, Unknowing, and unknown, The infection of the ground partakes, Longing for his Belov'd--who makes 35 All happiness her own.
Then why should conscious Spirits fear The mystic stirrings that are here, The ancient faith disclaim? The local Genius ne'er befriends 40 Desires whose course in folly ends, Whose just reward is shame.
Smile if thou wilt, but not in scorn, If some, by ceaseless pains outworn, Here crave an easier lot; 45 If some have thirsted to renew A broken vow, or bind a true, With firmer, holier knot.
And not in vain, when thoughts are cast Upon the irrevocable past, 50 Some Penitent sincere May for a worthier future sigh, While trickles from his downcast eye No unavailing tear.
The Worldling, pining to be freed 55 From turmoil, who would turn or speed The current of his fate, Might stop before this favoured scene, At Nature's call, nor blush to lean Upon the Wishing-gate. 60
The Sage, who feels how blind, how weak Is man, though loth such help to _seek_, Yet, passing, here might pause, And thirst[548] for insight to allay Misgiving, while the crimson day 65 In quietness withdraws;
Or when the church-clock's knell profound[549] To Time's first step across the bound Of midnight makes reply; Time pressing on with starry crest, 70 To filial sleep upon the breast Of dread eternity.
_The Wishing-gate_ was first published in _The Keepsake_ in 1829, and next in the 1832 edition of the Poems.--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[546] Having been told, upon what I thought good authority, that this gate had been destroyed, and the opening where it hung walled up, I gave vent immediately to my feelings in these stanzas. But going to the place some time after, I found, with much delight, my old favourite unmolested.--W. W. 1832.
"The same triumphant power attributed to the Wishing-gate is fancifully attributed to an image of St. Bridget in the ruined Franciscan convent at Adare." (Mr. Aubrey de Vere.)
[547] 1832.
Yes! even ... 1829.
[548] 1836.
And yearn ... 1829.
[549] Grasmere Church.--ED.
THE WISHING-GATE DESTROYED
Composed 1828.--Published 1842
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
'Tis gone--with old belief and dream That round it clung, and tempting scheme Released from fear and doubt; And the bright landscape too must lie, By this blank wall, from every eye, 5 Relentlessly shut out.
Bear witness ye who seldom passed That opening--but a look ye cast Upon the lake below, What spirit-stirring power it gained 10 From faith which here was entertained, Though reason might say no.
Blest is that ground, where, o'er the springs Of history, Glory claps her wings, Fame sheds the exulting tear; 15 Yet earth is wide, and many a nook Unheard of is, like this, a book For modest meanings dear.
It was in sooth a happy thought That grafted, on so fair a spot, 20 So confident a token Of coming good;--the charm is fled; Indulgent centuries spun a thread, Which one harsh day has broken.
Alas! for him who gave the word; 25 Could he no sympathy afford, Derived from earth or heaven, To hearts so oft by hope betrayed; Their very wishes wanted aid Which here was freely given? 30
Where, for the love-lorn maiden's wound, Will now so readily be found A balm of expectation? Anxious for far-off children, where Shall mothers breathe a like sweet air 35 Of home-felt consolation? And not unfelt will prove the loss 'Mid trivial care and petty cross And each day's shallow grief; Though the most easily beguiled 40 Were oft among the first that smiled At their own fond belief.
If still the reckless change we mourn, A reconciling thought may turn To harm that might lurk here, 45 Ere judgment prompted from within Fit aims, with courage to begin, And strength to persevere.
Not Fortune's slave is Man: our state Enjoins, while firm resolves await 50 On wishes just and wise, That strenuous action follow both, And life be one perpetual growth Of heaven-ward enterprise.
So taught, so trained, we boldly face 55 All accidents of time and place; Whatever props may fail, Trust in that sovereign law can spread New glory o'er the mountain's head, Fresh beauty through the vale. 60
That truth informing mind and heart, The simplest cottager may part, Ungrieved, with charm and spell; And yet, lost Wishing-gate, to thee The voice of grateful memory 65 Shall bid a kind farewell!
Agate--though not the "moss-grown bar" of 1828--still stands at the old place, where Wordsworth tells us one had stood "time out of mind;" so that a "blank wall" does not now shut out the "bright landscape," at the old, and classic, spot. Long may this gate stand, defying wind and weather!--ED.
A JEWISH FAMILY
(IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR, UPON THE RHINE)
Composed 1828.--Published 1835
[Coleridge, my daughter, and I, in 1828, passed a fortnight upon the banks of the Rhine, principally under the hospitable roof of Mr. Aders of Gotesburg, but two days of the time we spent at St. Goar in rambles among the neighbouring valleys. It was at St. Goar that I saw the Jewish family here described. Though exceedingly poor, and in rags, they were not less beautiful than I have endeavoured to make them appear. We had taken a little dinner with us in a basket, and invited them to partake of it, which the mother refused to do, both for herself and children, saying it was with them a fast-day; adding, diffidently, that whether such observances were right or wrong, she felt it her duty to keep them strictly. The Jews, who are numerous on this part of the Rhine, greatly surpass the German peasantry in the beauty of their features and in the intelligence of their countenances. But the lower classes of the German peasantry have, here at least, the air of people grievously opprest. Nursing mothers, at the age of seven or eight-and-twenty, often look haggard and far more decayed and withered than women of Cumberland and Westmoreland twice their age. This comes from being under-fed and over-worked in their vineyards in a hot and glaring sun.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
Genius of Raphael! if thy wings Might bear thee to this glen, With faithful memory left of things[550] To pencil dear and pen, Thou would'st forego the neighbouring Rhine, 5 And all his majesty-- A studious forehead to incline O'er[551] this poor family.
The Mother--her thou must have seen, In spirit, ere she came 10 To dwell these rifted rocks between, Or found on earth a name; An image, too, of that sweet Boy,[552] Thy inspirations give-- Of playfulness,[553] and love, and joy, 15 Predestined here to live.
Downcast, or shooting glances far, How beautiful his eyes, That blend the nature of the star With that of summer skies! 20 I speak as if of sense beguiled; Uncounted months are gone, Yet am I with the Jewish Child, That exquisite Saint John.
I see the dark-brown curls, the brow, 25 The smooth transparent skin, Refined, as with intent to show The holiness within;[554] The grace of parting Infancy By blushes yet untamed; 30 Age faithful to the mother's knee, Nor of her arms ashamed.
Two lovely Sisters, still and sweet As flowers, stand side by side; Their soul-subduing looks[555] might cheat 35 The Christian of his pride: Such beauty hath the Eternal poured Upon them not forlorn,[556] Though of a lineage once abhorred, Nor yet redeemed from scorn. 40
Mysterious safeguard, that, in spite Of poverty and wrong, Doth here preserve a living light, From Hebrew fountains sprung; That gives this ragged group to cast 45 Around the dell a gleam Of Palestine, of glory past, And proud Jerusalem!
The title given to this poem by Dorothy Wordsworth, in the letter to Lady Beaumont in which the different MS. readings occur, is "A Jewish Family, met with in a Dingle near the Rhine." During the Continental Tour of 1820,--in which Wordsworth was accompanied by his wife and sister and other friends,--they went up the Rhine (see the notes to the poems recording that Tour). An extract from Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal, referring to the road from St. Goar to Bingen, may illustrate this poem, written in 1828. "From St. Goar to Bingen, castles commanding innumerable small fortified villages. Nothing could exceed the delightful variety, and at first the postilions whisked us too fast through these scenes; and afterwards, the same variety so often repeated, we became quite exhausted, at least D. and I were; and, beautiful as the road continued to be, we could scarcely keep our eyes open; but, on my being roused from one of these slumbers, no eye wide-awake ever beheld such celestial pictures as gleamed before mine, like visions belonging to dreams. The castles seemed now almost _stationary_, a continued succession always in sight, rarely without two or three before us at once. There they rose from the craggy cliffs, out of the centre of the stately river, from a green island, or a craggy rock, etc., etc."
In Dorothy Wordsworth's record of the same Tour, the following occurs:--"July 24.--We looked down into one of the vales tributary to the Rhine, which, in memory of the mountain recesses of Ullswater, I named Deep-dale, a green quiet place, spotted with villages and single houses, and enlivened by a sinuous brook." ... "A lovely dell runs behind one of these hills. At its opening, where it pours out its stream into the Rhine, we espied a one-arched Borrowdale bridge; and, behind the bridge, a village almost buried between the abruptly rising steeps."--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[550] 1835.
With memory left of shapes and things
MS. written by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[551] 1835.
On ...
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[552] 1835.
... this sweet Boy,
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[553] 1835.
In playfulness, ...
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[554] Compare _The Russian Fugitive_, ll. 1-4.--ED.
[555] 1835.
Fair Creatures, in this lone retreat By happy chance espied, Your soul-subduing looks ...
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[556] 1835.
Upon you--not forlorn,
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
INCIDENT AT BRUGÈS
Composed 1828.--Published 1835
[This occurred at Brugès in 1828. Mr. Coleridge, my daughter, and I made a tour together in Flanders, upon the Rhine, and returned by Holland. Dora and I, while taking a walk along a retired part of the town, heard the voice as here described, and were afterwards informed it was a convent in which were many English. We were both much touched, I might say affected, and Dora moved as appears in the verses.--I. F.]
One of the "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent."--ED.
In Brugès town is many a street Whence busy life hath fled;[557] Where, without hurry, noiseless feet, The grass-grown pavement tread. There heard we, halting in the shade 5 Flung from a Convent-tower, A harp that tuneful prelude made To a voice of thrilling power.[558]
The measure, simple truth to tell, Was fit for some gay throng; 10 Though from the same grim turret fell The shadow and the song. When silent were both voice and chords, The strain seemed doubly dear, Yet sad as sweet,--for _English_ words 15 Had fallen upon the ear.[559]
It was a breezy hour of eve; And[560] pinnacle and spire Quivered and seemed almost to heave, Clothed with innocuous fire; 20 But, where we stood, the setting sun Showed little of his state; And, if the glory reached the Nun, 'Twas through an iron grate.[561]
Not always is the heart unwise,[562] 25 Nor pity idly born, If even[563] a passing Stranger sighs For them who do not mourn. Sad is thy doom, self-solaced dove, Captive, whoe'er thou be![564] 30 Oh! what is beauty, what is love, And opening life to thee?
Such feeling pressed upon my soul, A feeling sanctified By one soft trickling tear that stole 35 From the Maiden at my side; Less tribute could she pay than this, Borne gaily o'er the sea, Fresh from the beauty and the bliss Of English liberty? 40
In the final arrangement of the poems, this one was published amongst the _Memorials of a Tour on the Continent_ (1820), where it followed the two sonnets on Brugès. The poems suggested by the shorter Tour of 1828 are here published together, in their chronological order.
In an undated letter of Dorothy Wordsworth's to Lady Beaumont, before copying out this poem and _A Jewish Family_, she says, "The two following poems were taken from incidents recorded in Dora's journal of her tour with her father and S. T. Coleridge. As I well recollect, she has related the incidents very pleasingly, and I hope you will agree with me in thinking that the poet has made good use of them."--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[557] 1835.
... is fled,
MS. written by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[558] 1835.
To a voice like bird in bower.
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
... birds ...
MS. by Mrs. Wordsworth.
[559] 1835.
Like them who _think_ they hear, We listened still; for _English_ words Had dropped upon the ear.
MS. by Mrs. Wordsworth.
The strain seemed doubly dear, Yea passing sweet--for English words Had dropt upon the ear.
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[560] 1835.
When ...
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[561] Compare the Sonnet--
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun.--ED.
[562] 1835.
The restless heart is not unwise,
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[563] 1835.
When even ...
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[564] 1835.
Sad is thy doom, imprisoned dove, Whoe'er thou mayest be.
MS. by Dorothy Wordsworth.
A GRAVE-STONE UPON THE FLOOR IN THE CLOISTERS OF WORCESTER CATHEDRAL
Composed 1828.[565]--Published 1829 (in _The Keepsake_)
["Miserrimus." Many conjectures have been formed as to the person who lies under this stone. Nothing appears to be known for a certainty. Query--The Rev. Mr. Morris, a non-conformist, a sufferer for conscience-sake; a worthy man who, having been deprived of his benefice after the accession of William III., lived to an old age in extreme destitution, on the alms of charitable Jacobites.--I.F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.
"_Miserrimus!_" and neither name nor date, Prayer, text, or symbol, graven upon the stone;[566] Nought but that word assigned to the unknown, That solitary word--to separate From all, and cast a cloud around the fate 5 Of him who lies beneath. Most wretched one, _Who_ chose his epitaph?--Himself alone Could thus have dared the grave to agitate, And claim, among the dead, this awful crown; Nor doubt that He marked also for his own 10 Close to these cloistral steps a burial-place, That every foot might fall with heavier tread, Trampling upon his vileness. Stranger, pass Softly!--To save the contrite, Jesus bled.
FOOTNOTES:
[565] This, and the following sonnet on the tradition of Oker Hill, first published in _The Keepsake_ of 1829, appeared in the 1832 edition of the Poetical Works.--ED.
[566] The stone is in the cloisters of Worcester Cathedral, at the north-west corner of the quadrangle, just below the doorway leading into the nave of the cathedral. It is a small stone, two feet, by one and a half. The Reverend Thomas Maurice (or Morris)--a minor canon of Worcester, and vicar of Clains--refused to take the oath of allegiance at the Revolution Settlement, and was accordingly deprived of his benefice. He lived to the age of 88, on the generosity of the richer non-jurors, and died 1748. (See Murray's _Guide to Warwickshire_, and Richard King's _Handbook to the Cathedral of Worcester_.)--ED.
THE GLEANER
(SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE)
Composed 1828.--Published 1829
[This poem was first printed in the annual called _The Keepsake_. The painter's name I am not sure of, but I think it was Holmes.[567]--I.F.]
In 1832 one of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection." Transferred in 1845 to "Miscellaneous Poems."--ED.
That happy gleam of vernal eyes, Those locks from summer's golden skies, That o'er thy brow are shed; That cheek--a kindling of the morn, That lip--a rose-bud from the thorn, 5 I saw; and Fancy sped To scenes Arcadian, whispering, through soft air, Of bliss that grows without a care, And[568] happiness that never flies-- (How can it where love never dies?) 10 Whispering of promise,[569] where no blight Can reach the innocent delight; Where pity, to the mind conveyed In pleasure, is the darkest shade That Time, unwrinkled grandsire, flings 15 From his smoothly gliding wings.
What mortal form, what earthly face Inspired the pencil, lines to trace, And mingle colours, that should breed Such rapture, nor want power to feed; 20 For had thy charge been idle flowers, Fair Damsel! o'er my captive mind, To truth and sober reason blind, 'Mid that soft air, those long-lost bowers, The sweet illusion might have hung, for hours. 25
Thanks to this tell-tale sheaf of corn, That touchingly bespeaks thee born Life's daily tasks with them to share Who, whether from their lowly bed They rise, or rest the weary head, 30 Ponder the blessing[570] they entreat From Heaven, and _feel_ what they repeat, While they give utterance to the prayer That asks for daily bread.
The year of the publication of this poem in _The Keepsake_ was 1829. It then appeared under the title of _The Country Girl_, and it was afterwards included in the 1832 edition of the poems.--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[567] The painter was J. Holmes, and his picture was engraved by C. Heath.--ED.
[568] 1837.
Of ... 1829.
[569] 1837.
Of promise whispering, ... 1832.
[570] 1832.
Do _weigh_ the blessing ... 1829.
ON[571] THE POWER OF SOUND
Composed December 1828.--Published 1835
[Written at Rydal Mount. I have often regretted that my tour in Ireland, chiefly performed in the short days of October in a carriage-and-four (I was with Mr. Marshall), supplied my memory with so few images that were new, and with so little motive to write. The lines however in this poem, "Thou too be heard, lone eagle!" were suggested near the Giants' Causeway, or rather at the promontory of Fairhead, where a pair of eagles wheeled above our heads and darted off as if to hide themselves in a blaze of sky made by the setting sun.--I.F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."-ED.
ARGUMENT
_The Ear addressed, as occupied by a spiritual functionary, in communion with sounds, individual, or combined in studied harmony.--Sources and effects of those sounds (to the close of 6th Stanza).--The power of music, whence proceeding, exemplified in the idiot.--Origin of music, and its effect in early ages--how produced (to the middle of 10th Stanza).--The mind recalled to sounds acting casually and severally.--Wish uttered (11th Stanza) that these could be united into a scheme or system for moral interests and intellectual_ _contemplation.--(Stanza 12th.) The Pythagorean theory_ _of numbers and music, with their supposed power over the_ _motions of the universe--imaginations consonant with such_ _a theory.--Wish expressed (in 11th Stanza) realised, in_ _some degree, by the representation of all sounds under the form of thanksgiving to the Creator.--(Last Stanza) the destruction of earth and the planetary system--the survival of audible harmony, and its support in the Divine Nature, as revealed in Holy Writ._
I
Thy functions are ethereal, As if within thee dwelt a glancing mind, Organ of vision! And a Spirit aërial Informs the cell of Hearing, dark and blind; Intricate labyrinth, more dread for thought 5 To enter than oracular cave; Strict passage, through which sighs are brought, And whispers for the heart, their slave; And shrieks, that revel in abuse Of shivering flesh; and warbled air, 10 Whose piercing sweetness can unloose The chains of frenzy, or entice a smile Into the ambush of despair; Hosannas pealing down the long-drawn aisle,[572] And requiems answered by the pulse that beats 15 Devoutly, in life's last retreats!
II
The headlong streams and fountains Serve Thee, invisible Spirit, with untired powers; Cheering the wakeful tent on Syrian mountains, They lull perchance ten thousand thousand flowers. 20 _That_ roar, the prowling lion's _Here I am_, How fearful to the desert wide! That bleat, how tender! of the dam Calling a straggler to her side. Shout, cuckoo!--let the vernal soul 25 Go with thee to the frozen zone; Toll from thy loftiest perch, lone bell-bird, toll! At the still hour to Mercy dear, Mercy from her twilight throne Listening to nun's faint throb of holy fear, 30 To sailor's prayer breathed from a darkening sea, Or widow's cottage-lullaby.
III
Ye Voices, and ye Shadows And Images of voice--to hound and horn From rocky steep and rock-bestudded meadows 35 Flung back, and, in the sky's blue caves, reborn-- On with your pastime! till the church-tower bells A greeting give of measured glee; And milder echoes from their cells Repeat the bridal symphony. 40 Then, or far earlier, let us rove Where mists are breaking up or gone, And from aloft look down into a cove Besprinkled with a careless quire, Happy milk-maids, one by one 45 Scattering a ditty each to her desire, A liquid concert matchless by nice Art, A stream as if from one full heart.
IV
Blest be the song that brightens The blind man's gloom, exalts the veteran's mirth; 50 Unscorned the peasant's whistling breath, that lightens His duteous toil of furrowing the green earth. For the tired slave, Song lifts the languid oar, And bids it aptly fall, with chime That beautifies the fairest shore, 55 And mitigates the harshest clime. Yon pilgrims see--in lagging file They move; but soon the appointed way A choral _Ave Marie_ shall beguile, And to their hope the distant shrine 60 Glisten with a livelier ray: Nor friendless he, the prisoner of the mine, Who from the well-spring of his own clear breast Can draw, and sing his griefs to rest.
V
When civic renovation 65 Dawns on a kingdom, and for needful haste Best eloquence avails not, Inspiration Mounts with a tune, that travels like a blast Piping through cave and battlemented tower; Then starts the sluggard, pleased to meet 70 That voice of Freedom, in its power Of promises, shrill, wild, and sweet! Who, from a martial _pageant_, spreads Incitements of a battle-day, 74 Thrilling the unweaponed crowd with plumeless heads?-- Even She whose Lydian airs inspire[573] Peaceful striving, gentle play Of timid hope and innocent desire Shot from the dancing Graces, as they move Fanned by the plausive wings of Love. 80
VI
How oft along thy mazes, Regent of sound, have dangerous Passions trod! O Thou, through whom the temple rings with praises, And blackening clouds in thunder speak of God, Betray not by the cozenage of sense[574] 85 Thy votaries, wooingly resigned To a voluptuous influence That taints the purer, better, mind; But lead sick Fancy to a harp That hath in noble tasks been tried; 90 And, if the virtuous feel a pang too sharp, Soothe it into patience,--stay The uplifted arm of Suicide; And let some mood of thine in firm array Knit every thought the impending issue needs, 95 Ere martyr burns, or patriot bleeds!
VII
As Conscience, to the centre Of being, smites with irresistible pain So shall a solemn cadence, if it enter The mouldy vaults of the dull idiot's brain, 100 Transmute him to a wretch from quiet hurled-- Convulsed as by a jarring din; And then aghast, as at the world Of reason partially let in By concords winding with a sway 105 Terrible for sense and soul! Or, awed he weeps, struggling to quell dismay. Point not these mysteries to an Art Lodged above the starry pole; Pure modulations flowing from the heart 110 Of divine Love, where Wisdom, Beauty, Truth With Order dwell, in endless youth?
VIII
Oblivion may not cover All treasures hoarded by the miser, Time. Orphean Insight! truth's undaunted lover, 115 To the first leagues of tutored passion climb, When Music deigned within this grosser sphere Her subtle essence to enfold, And voice and shell drew forth a tear Softer than Nature's self could mould. 120 Yet _strenuous_ was the infant Age: Art, daring because souls could feel, Stirred nowhere but an urgent equipage Of rapt imagination sped her march Through the realms of woe and weal: 125 Hell to the lyre bowed low; the upper arch Rejoiced that clamorous spell and magic verse Her wan disasters could disperse.[575]
IX
The GIFT to king Amphion That walled a city with its melody 130 Was for belief no dream:[576]--thy skill, Arion! Could humanise the creatures of the sea, Where men were monsters.[577] A last grace he craves, Leave for one chant;--the dulcet sound Steals from the deck o'er willing waves, 135 And listening dolphins gather round.[578] Self-cast, as with a desperate course, 'Mid that strange audience, he bestrides A proud One docile as a managed horse; And singing, while the accordant hand 140 Sweeps his harp, the Master rides; So shall he touch at length a friendly strand, And he, with his preserver, shine star-bright In memory, through silent night.
X
The pipe of Pan, to shepherds 145 Couched in the shadow of Mænalian pines,[579] Was passing sweet; the eyeballs of the leopards, That in high triumph drew the Lord of vines, How did they sparkle to the cymbal's clang! While Fauns and Satyrs beat the ground 150 In cadence,[580]--and Silenus swang This way and that, with wild-flowers crowned.[581] To life, to _life_ give back thine ear: Ye who are longing to be rid Of fable, though to truth subservient, hear 155 The little sprinkling of cold earth that fell Echoed from the coffin-lid; The convict's summons in the steeple's knell; "The vain distress-gun,"[582] from a leeward shore, Repeated-heard, and heard no more! 160
XI
For terror, joy, or pity, Vast is the compass and the swell of notes: From the babe's first cry to voice of regal city, Rolling a solemn sea-like bass, that floats Far as the woodlands--with the trill to blend 165 Of that shy songstress,[583] whose love-tale Might tempt an angel to descend, While hovering o'er the moonlight vale. Ye wandering Utterances,[584] has earth no scheme, No scale of moral music--to unite 170 Powers that survive but in the faintest dream[585] Of memory?-O that ye[586] might stoop to bear Chains, such precious chains of sight As laboured minstrelsies through ages wear! O for a balance fit the truth to tell 175 Of the Unsubstantial, pondered well!
XII
By one pervading spirit Of tones and numbers all things are controlled, As sages taught, where faith was found to merit Initiation in that mystery old.[587][588] 180 The heavens, whose aspect makes our minds as still As they themselves appear to be, Innumerable voices fill With everlasting harmony; The towering headlands, crowned with mist, 185 Their feet among the billows, know That Ocean is a mighty harmonist;[589] Thy pinions, universal Air, Ever waving to and fro, Are delegates of harmony, and bear 190 Strains that support the Seasons in their round; Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
XIII
Break forth into thanksgiving, Ye banded instruments of wind and chords; Unite, to magnify the Ever-living,[590] 195 Your inarticulate notes with the voice of words! Nor hushed be service from the lowing mead, Nor mute the forest hum of noon; Thou too be heard, lone eagle![591] freed From snowy peak and cloud, attune 200 Thy hungry barkings to the hymn Of joy, that from her utmost walls The six-days' Work,[592] by flaming Seraphim Transmits to Heaven! As Deep to Deep Shouting through one valley calls, 205 All worlds, all natures, mood and measure keep For praise and ceaseless gratulation, poured Into the ear of God, their Lord!
XIV
A Voice to Light gave Being;[593] To Time, and Man his earth-born chronicler; 210 A Voice shall finish doubt and dim foreseeing, And sweep away life's visionary stir; The trumpet (we, intoxicate with pride, Arm at its blast for deadly wars) To archangelic lips applied, 215 The grave shall open, quench the stars.[594] O Silence! are Man's noisy years No more than moments of thy life?[595] Is Harmony, blest queen of smiles and tears, With her smooth tones and discords just, 220 Tempered into rapturous strife, Thy destined bond-slave? No! though earth be dust And vanish, though the heavens dissolve, her stay Is in the WORD, that shall not pass away.[596]
FOOTNOTES:
[571] 1836.
STANZAS ON ... 1835.
[572] Compare Gray's _Elegy_, l. 39.--ED.
[573] Compare _L'Allegro_, II. 135-37--
And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse.
ED.
[574] The deception of the senses.--ED.
[575] Orpheus, is search of his lost Eurydice, gained admittance with his lyre to the infernal regions. Pluto was charmed with his music, the wheel of Ixion stopped, the stone of Sisyphus stood still, Tantalus forgot his thirst, and the Furies relented, while Pluto and Proserpine consented to restore Eurydice. The sequel is well known.--ED.
[576] The fable of Amphion moving stones and raising the walls of Thebes by his melody is explained by supposing him gifted with an eloquence and power of persuasion that roused the savage people to rise and build the town of Thebes.--ED.
[577] The story of Arion, lyric poet and musician of Lesbos, was that having gone into Italy, settled there, and grown rich, he wished to revisit his native country, taking some of his fortune with him. The sailors of the ship determined to murder him, and steal his treasure. He asked, as a last favour, that he might play a tune on his lyre. As soon as he began he attracted the creatures of the deep, and leaping into the sea, one of the dolphins carried him, lyre in hand, to the shore.--ED.
[578] Compare _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, act II. scene i. l. 150.--ED.
[579] Mænalus, a mountain in Arcadia, sacred to Pan, covered with pine trees, a favourite haunt of shepherds.--See Virgil, _Eclogues_, viii. 24; _Georgics_, i. 17; Ovid, _Metamorphoses_, i. 216.--ED.
[580] Compare Gray's _Progress of Poesy_, ll. 33-35.--ED.
[581] In his expedition to the East, Bacchus was clothed in a panther's skin. He was accompanied by all the Satyrs, and by Silenus crowned with flowers and almost always intoxicated.--ED.
[582] I have been unable to trace this quotation.--ED.
[583] The nightingale.--ED.
[584] Compare _To the Cuckoo_, vol. ii. p. 289--
A wandering Voice.--ED.
[585] 1836.
O for some soul-affecting scheme Of _moral_ music, to unite Wanderers whose portion is the faintest dream 1835.
[586] 1836
... they ... 1835.
[587] 1835.
There is a world of spirit, By tones and numbers guided and controlled; And glorious privilege have they who merit Initiation in that mystery old.
MS. copy by Dorothy Wordsworth.
[588] The fundamental idea, both in the intellectual and moral philosophy of the Pythagoreans, was that of harmony or proportion. Their natural science or cosmology was dominated by the same idea, that as the world and all spheres within the universe were constructed symmetrically, and moved around a central focus, the forms and the proportions of things were best expressed by number. All good was due to the principle of order; all evil to disorder. In accordance with the mathematical conception of the universe which ruled the Pythagoreans, justice was equality (#isotês#), that is to say it consisted in each one receiving equally according to his deserts. Friendship too was equality of feeling and relationship; harmony being the radical idea, alike in the ethics and in the cosmology of the school.--ED.
[589] Compare Keats, in a letter to his friend Bailey, in 1817: "The great elements we know of are no mean comforters; the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown; the air is our robe of state; the earth is our throne; and the sea a mighty minstrel playing before it."--ED.
[590] Compare _The Excursion_,