book iv

. l. 1197--

... sea with ships Sprinkled ... ED.

[B] In the editions of 1815 to 1832 (but not in 1807) this line was printed within inverted commas. The quotation marks were dropped, however, in subsequent editions (as in the quotation from Spenser, in the poem _Beggars_). In a note at the end of the volumes of 1807, Wordsworth says, "From a passage in Skelton, which I cannot here insert, not having the Book at hand."

The passage is as follows--

Her takelynge ryche, and of hye apparayle.

Skelton's _Bowge of Courte_, stanza vi.--ED.

[C] See Professor H. Reed's note to the American edition of _Memoirs of Wordsworth_, vol. i. p. 335; and Wordsworth's comment on Mrs. Fermor's criticism of this sonnet in his letter to Lady Beaumont, May 21, 1807.--ED.

"WHERE LIES THE LAND TO WHICH YON SHIP MUST GO?"

Composed 1806.--Published 1807

Classed among the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.

Where lies the Land to which yon Ship must go? Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day, Festively she puts forth in trim array;[1] Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow? What boots the inquiry?--Neither friend nor foe 5 She cares for; let her travel where she may, She finds familiar names, a beaten way Ever before her, and a wind to blow. Yet still I ask, what haven is her mark? And, almost as it was when ships were rare, 10 (From time to time, like Pilgrims, here and there Crossing the waters) doubt, and something dark, Of the old Sea some reverential fear, Is with me at thy farewell, joyous Bark!

VARIANTS:

[1] 1837.

Festively she puts forth in trim array; As vigorous as a Lark at break of day: 1807.

TO SLEEP

Composed 1806.--Published 1807

Placed among the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.

O gentle sleep! do they belong to thee, These twinklings of oblivion? Thou dost love To sit in meekness, like the brooding Dove, A captive never wishing to be free. This tiresome night, O Sleep! thou art to me 5 A Fly, that up and down himself doth shove Upon a fretful rivulet, now above Now on the water vexed with mockery. I have no pain that calls for patience, no;[A] Hence am I[1] cross and peevish as a child: 10 Am[2] pleased by fits to have thee for my foe, Yet ever willing to be reconciled: O gentle Creature! do not use me so, But once and deeply let me be beguiled.

VARIANTS:

[1] 1807.

... I am ... 1815.

The text of 1827 returns to that of 1807.

[2] 1807.

And ... 1815.

The text of 1827 returns to that of 1807.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Compare--"Et c'est encore ce qui me fâche, de n'etre pas même en droit de ... fâcher."--Rousseau, _La Nouvelle Héloïse_.

"Vixque tenet lacrymas; quia nil lacrymabile cernit."

Ovid, _Metamorphoses_, lib. ii. l. 796.--ED.

TO SLEEP

Composed 1806.--Published 1807

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.

Fond words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep! And thou hast had thy store of tenderest names; The very sweetest, Fancy culls or frames,[1] When thankfulness of heart is strong and deep! Dear Bosom-child we call thee, that dost steep 5 In rich reward all suffering; Balm that tames All anguish; Saint that evil thoughts and aims Takest away, and into souls dost creep, Like to a breeze from heaven. Shall I alone, I surely not a man ungently made, 10 Call thee worst Tyrant by which Flesh is crost? Perverse, self-willed to own and to disown, Mere slave of them who never for thee prayed, Still last to come where thou art wanted most!

VARIANTS:

[1] 1837.

The very sweetest words that fancy frames 1807.

TO SLEEP

Composed 1806.--Published 1807

Classed among the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."--ED.

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by, One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky; I have thought of all by turns, and yet do lie[1] 5 Sleepless[A]! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: 10 So do not let me wear to-night away: Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth? Come, blessed barrier between[2] day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!

Compare Ovid, _Metamorphoses_, book xi . l. 623; _Macbeth_, act II. scene ii. l. 39; _King Henry IV._,