Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

by William Wordsworth

  A sound unknown to you; else, honoured Friend!

  Your heart had borne a pitiable share

  Of what I suffered, when I wept that loss,

  And suffer now, not seldom, from the thought

  That I remember, and can weep no more.—

  Stripped as I am of all the golden fruit

  Of self-esteem; and by the cutting blasts

  Of self-reproach familiarly assailed; 490

  Yet would I not be of such wintry bareness

  But that some leaf of your regard should hang

  Upon my naked branches:—lively thoughts

  Give birth, full often, to unguarded words;

  I grieve that, in your presence, from my tongue

  Too much of frailty hath already dropped;

  But that too much demands still more.

  You know,

  Revered Compatriot—and to you, kind Sir,

  (Not to be deemed a stranger, as you come

  Following the guidance of these welcome feet 500

  To our secluded vale) it may be told—

  That my demerits did not sue in vain

  To One on whose mild radiance many gazed

  With hope, and all with pleasure. This fair Bride—

  In the devotedness of youthful love,

  Preferring me to parents, and the choir

  Of gay companions, to the natal roof,

  And all known places and familiar sights

  (Resigned with sadness gently weighing down

  Her trembling expectations, but no more 510

  Than did to her due honour, and to me

  Yielded, that day, a confidence sublime

  In what I had to build upon)—this Bride,

  Young, modest, meek, and beautiful, I led

  To a low cottage in a sunny bay,

  Where the salt sea innocuously breaks,

  And the sea breeze as innocently breathes,

  On Devon’s leafy shores;—a sheltered hold,

  In a soft clime encouraging the soil

  To a luxuriant bounty!—As our steps 520

  Approach the embowered abode—our chosen seat—

  See, rooted in the earth, her kindly bed,

  The unendangered myrtle, decked with flowers,

  Before the threshold stands to welcome us!

  While, in the flowering myrtle’s neighbourhood,

  Not overlooked but courting no regard,

  Those native plants, the holly and the yew,

  Gave modest intimation to the mind

  How willingly their aid they would unite

  With the green myrtle, to endear the hours 530

  Of winter, and protect that pleasant place.

  —Wild were the walks upon those lonely Downs,

  Track leading into track; how marked, how worn

  Into bright verdure, between fern and gorse

  Winding away its never-ending line

  On their smooth surface, evidence was none;

  But, there, lay open to our daily haunt,

  A range of unappropriated earth,

  Where youth’s ambitious feet might move at large;

  Whence, unmolested wanderers, we beheld 540

  The shining giver of the day diffuse

  His brightness o’er a tract of sea and land

  Gay as our spirits, free as our desires;

  As our enjoyments, boundless.—From those heights

  We dropped, at pleasure, into sylvan combs;

  Where arbours of impenetrable shade,

  And mossy seats, detained us side by side,

  With hearts at ease, and knowledge in our hearts

  ‘That all the grove and all the day was ours.’

  O happy time! still happier was at hand; 550

  For Nature called my Partner to resign

  Her share in the pure freedom of that life,

  Enjoyed by us in common.—To my hope,

  To my heart’s wish, my tender Mate became

  The thankful captive of maternal bonds;

  And those wild paths were left to me alone.

  There could I meditate on follies past;

  And, like a weary voyager escaped

  From risk and hardship, inwardly retrace

  A course of vain delights and thoughtless guilt, 560

  And self-indulgence—without shame pursued.

  There, undisturbed, could think of and could thank

  Her whose submissive spirit was to me

  Rule and restraint—my guardian—shall I say

  That earthly Providence, whose guiding love

  Within a port of rest had lodged me safe;

  Safe from temptation, and from danger far?

  Strains followed of acknowledgment addressed

  To an authority enthroned above

  The reach of sight; from whom, as from their source 570

  Proceed all visible ministers of good

  That walk the earth—Father of heaven and earth,

  Father, and king, and judge, adored and feared!

  These acts of mind, and memory, and heart,

  And spirit—interrupted and relieved

  By observations transient as the glance

  Of flying sunbeams, or to the outward form

  Cleaving with power inherent and intense,

  As the mute insect fixed upon the plant

  On whose soft leaves it hangs, and from whose cup 580

  It draws its nourishment imperceptibly—

  Endeared my wanderings; and the mother’s kiss

  And infant’s smile awaited my return.

  In privacy we dwelt, a wedded pair,

  Companions daily, often all day long;

  Not placed by fortune within easy reach

  Of various intercourse, nor wishing aught

  Beyond the allowance of our own fire-side,

  The twain within our happy cottage born,

  Inmates, and heirs of our united love; 590

  Graced mutually by difference of sex,

  And with no wider interval of time

  Between their several births than served for one

  To establish something of a leader’s sway;

  Yet left them joined by sympathy in age;

  Equals in pleasure, fellows in pursuit.

  On these two pillars rested as in air

  Our solitude.

  It soothes me to perceive,

  Your courtesy withholds not from my words

  Attentive audience. But, oh! gentle Friends, 600

  As times of quiet and unbroken peace,

  Though, for a nation, times of blessedness,

  Give back faint echoes from the historian’s page;

  So, in the imperfect sounds of this discourse,

  Depressed I hear, how faithless is the voice

  Which those most blissful days reverberate.

  What special record can, or need, be given

  To rules and habits, whereby much was done,

  But all within the sphere of little things;

  Of humble, though, to us, important cares, 610

  And precious interests? Smoothly did our life

  Advance, swerving not from the path prescribed;

  Her annual, her diurnal, round alike!

  Maintained with faithful care. And you divine

  The worst effects that our condition saw

  If you imagine changes slowly wrought,

  And in their progress unperceivable;

  Not wished for; sometimes noticed with a sigh,

  (Whate’er of good or lovely they might bring)

  Sighs of regret, for the familiar good 620

  And loveliness endeared which they removed.

  Seven years of occupation undisturbed

  Established seemingly a right to hold

  That happiness; and use and habit gave,

  To what an alien spirit had acquired,

  A patrimonial sanctity. And thus,

  With thoughts and wishes bounded to this world
,

  I lived and breathed; most grateful—if to enjoy

  Without repining or desire for more,

  For different lot, or change to higher sphere, 630

  (Only except some impulses of pride

  With no determined object, though upheld

  By theories with suitable support)—

  Most grateful, if in such wise to enjoy

  Be proof of gratitude for what we have;

  Else, I allow, most thankless.—But, at once,

  From some dark seat of fatal power was urged

  A claim that shattered all.—Our blooming girl,

  Caught in the gripe of death, with such brief time

  To struggle in as scarcely would allow 640

  Her cheek to change its colour, was conveyed

  From us to inaccessible worlds, to regions

  Where height, or depth, admits not the approach

  Of living man, though longing to pursue.

  —With even as brief a warning—and how soon,

  With what short interval of time between,

  I tremble yet to think of—our last prop,

  Our happy life’s only remaining stay—

  The brother followed; and was seen no more!

  Calm as a frozen lake when ruthless winds 650

  Blow fiercely, agitating earth and sky,

  The Mother now remained; as if in her,

  Who, to the lowest region of the soul,

  Had been erewhile unsettled and disturbed,

  This second visitation had no power

  To shake; but only to bind up and seal;

  And to establish thankfulness of heart

  In Heaven’s determinations, ever just.

  The eminence whereon her spirit stood,

  Mine was unable to attain. Immense 660

  The space that severed us! But, as the sight

  Communicates with heaven’s ethereal orbs

  Incalculably distant; so, I felt

  That consolation may descend from far

  (And that is intercourse, and union, too,)

  While, overcome with speechless gratitude,

  And, with a holier love inspired, I looked

  On her—at once superior to my woes

  And partner of my loss.—O heavy change,

  Dimness o’er this clear luminary crept 670

  Insensibly;—the immortal and divine

  Yielded to mortal reflux; her pure glory,

  As from the pinnacle of worldly state

  Wretched ambition drops astounded, fell

  Into a gulf obscure of silent grief,

  And keen heart-anguish—of itself ashamed,

  Yet obstinately cherishing itself:

  And, so consumed, she melted from my arms;

  And left me, on this earth, disconsolate!

  What followed cannot be reviewed in thought; 680

  Much less, retraced in words. If she, of life

  Blameless, so intimate with love and joy

  And all the tender motions of the soul,

  Had been supplanted, could I hope to stand—

  Infirm, dependent, and now destitute?

  I called on dreams and visions, to disclose

  That which is veiled from waking thought; conjured

  Eternity, as men constrain a ghost

  To appear and answer; to the grave I spake

  Imploringly;—looked up, and asked the Heavens 690

  If Angels traversed their cerulean floors,

  If fixed or wandering star could tidings yield

  Of the departed spirit—what abode

  It occupies—what consciousness retains

  Of former loves and interests. Then my soul

  Turned inward,—to examine of what stuff

  Time’s fetters are composed; and life was put

  To inquisition, long and profitless!

  By pain of heart—now checked—and now impelled—

  The intellectual power, through words and things, 700

  Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way!

  And from those transports, and these toils abstruse,

  Some trace am I enabled to retain

  Of time, else lost;—existing unto me

  Only by records in myself not found.

  From that abstraction I was roused,—and how?

  Even as a thoughtful shepherd by a flash

  Of lightning startled in a gloomy cave

  Of these wild hills. For, lo! the dread Bastile,

  With all the chambers in its horrid towers, 710

  Fell to the ground:—by violence overthrown

  Of indignation; and with shouts that drowned

  The crash it made in falling! From the wreck

  A golden palace rose, or seemed to rise,

  The appointed seat of equitable law

  And mild paternal sway. The potent shock

  I felt: the transformation I perceived,

  As marvellously seized as in that moment

  When, from the blind mist issuing, I beheld

  Glory—beyond all glory ever seen, 720

  Confusion infinite of heaven and earth,

  Dazzling the soul. Meanwhile, prophetic harps

  In every grove were ringing, ‘War shall cease;

  ‘Did ye not hear that conquest is abjured?

  ‘Bring garlands, bring forth choicest flowers, to deck

  ‘The tree of Liberty.’—My heart rebounded;

  My melancholy voice the chorus joined;

  —’Be joyful all ye nations; in all lands,

  ‘Ye that are capable of joy be glad!

  ‘Henceforth, whate’er is wanting to yourselves 730

  ‘In others ye shall promptly find;—and all,

  ‘Enriched by mutual and reflected wealth,

  ‘Shall with one heart honour their common kind.’

  Thus was I reconverted to the world;

  Society became my glittering bride,

  And airy hopes my children.—From the depths

  Of natural passion, seemingly escaped,

  My soul diffused herself in wide embrace

  Of institutions, and the forms of things;

  As they exist, in mutable array, 740

  Upon life’s surface. What, though in my veins

  There flowed no Gallic blood, nor had I breathed

  The air of France, not less than Gallic zeal

  Kindled and burnt among the sapless twigs

  Of my exhausted heart. If busy men

  In sober conclave met, to weave a web

  Of amity, whose living threads should stretch

  Beyond the seas, and to the farthest pole,

  There did I sit, assisting. If, with noise

  And acclamation, crowds in open air 750

  Expressed the tumult of their minds, my voice

  There mingled, heard or not. The powers of song

  I left not uninvoked; and, in still groves,

  Where mild enthusiasts tuned a pensive lay

  Of thanks and expectation, in accord

  With their belief, I sang Saturnian rule

  Returned,—a progeny of golden years

  Permitted to descend, and bless mankind.

  —With promises the Hebrew Scriptures teem:

  I felt their invitation; and resumed 760

  A long-suspended office in the House

  Of public worship, where, the glowing phrase

  Of ancient inspiration serving me,

  I promised also,—with undaunted trust

  Foretold, and added prayer to prophecy;

  The admiration winning of the crowd;

  The help desiring of the pure devout.

  Scorn and contempt forbid me to proceed!

  But History, time’s slavish scribe, will tell

  How rapidly the zealots of the cause 770

  Disbanded—or in hostile ranks appeared;

  Some, tired of honest service; these, outdone,

  Disgusted therefore, or appalled, by ai
ms

  Of fiercer zealots—so confusion reigned,

  And the more faithful were compelled to exclaim,

  As Brutus did to Virtue, ‘Liberty,

  ‘I worshipped thee, and find thee but a Shade!’

  Such recantation had for me no charm,

  Nor would I bend to it; who should have grieved

  At aught, however fair, that bore the mien 780

  Of a conclusion, or catastrophe.

  Why then conceal, that, when the simply good

  In timid selfishness withdrew, I sought

  Other support, not scrupulous whence it came;

  And, by what compromise it stood, not nice?

  Enough if notions seemed to be high-pitched,

  And qualities determined.—Among men

  So charactered did I maintain a strife

  Hopeless, and still more hopeless every hour;

  But, in the process, I began to feel 790

  That, if the emancipation of the world

  Were missed, I should at least secure my own,

  And be in part compensated. For rights,

  Widely—inveterately usurped upon,

  I spake with vehemence; and promptly seized

  All that Abstraction furnished for my needs

  Or purposes, nor scrupled to proclaim,

  And propagate, by liberty of life,

  Those new persuasions. Not that I rejoiced,

  Or even found pleasure, in such vagrant course, 800

  For its own sake; but farthest from the walk

  Which I had trod in happiness and peace,

  Was most inviting to a troubled mind;

  That, in a struggling and distempered world,

  Saw a seductive image of herself.

  Yet, mark the contradictions of which Man

  Is still the sport! Here Nature was my guide,

  The Nature of the dissolute; but thee,

  O fostering Nature! I rejected—smiled

  At others’ tears in pity; and in scorn 810

  At those, which thy soft influence sometimes drew

  From my unguarded heart.—The tranquil shores

  Of Britain circumscribed me; else, perhaps

  I might have been entangled among deeds,

  Which, now, as infamous, I should abhor—

  Despise, as senseless: for my spirit relished

  Strangely the exasperation of that Land,

  Which turned an angry beak against the down

  Of her own breast; confounded into hope

  Of disencumbering thus her fretful wings. 820

  But all was quieted by iron bonds

  Of military sway. The shifting aims,

  The moral interests, the creative might,

  The varied functions and high attributes

  Of civil action, yielded to a power

  Formal, and odious, and contemptible.

  —In Britain, ruled a panic dread of change;

  The weak were praised, rewarded, and advanced;

  And, from the impulse of a just disdain,