Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

by William Wordsworth

  To ecstasy; and, all the crooked paths

  Of time and change disdaining, takes its course

  Along the line of limitless desires.

  I, speaking now from such disorder free,

  Nor rapt, nor craving, but in settled peace,

  I cannot doubt that they whom you deplore

  Are glorified; or, if they sleep, shall wake

  From sleep, and dwell with God in endless love. 190

  Hope, below this, consists not with belief

  In mercy, carried infinite degrees

  Beyond the tenderness of human hearts:

  Hope, below this, consists not with belief

  In perfect wisdom, guiding mightiest power,

  That finds no limits but her own pure will.

  Here then we rest; not fearing for our creed

  The worst that human reasoning can achieve,

  To unsettle or perplex it: yet with pain

  Acknowledging, and grievous self-reproach, 200

  That, though immovably convinced, we want

  Zeal, and the virtue to exist by faith

  As soldiers live by courage; as, by strength

  Of heart, the sailor fights with roaring seas.

  Alas! the endowment of immortal power

  Is matched unequally with custom, time,

  And domineering faculties of sense

  In ‘all’; in most, with superadded foes,

  Idle temptations; open vanities,

  Ephemeral offspring of the unblushing world; 210

  And, in the private regions of the mind,

  Ill-governed passions, ranklings of despite,

  Immoderate wishes, pining discontent,

  Distress and care. What then remains?—To seek

  Those helps for his occasions ever near

  Who lacks not will to use them; vows, renewed

  On the first motion of a holy thought;

  Vigils of contemplation; praise; and prayer—

  A stream, which, from the fountain of the heart

  Issuing, however feebly, nowhere flows 220

  Without access of unexpected strength.

  But, above all, the victory is most sure

  For him, who, seeking faith by virtue, strives

  To yield entire submission to the law

  Of conscience—conscience reverenced and obeyed,

  As God’s most intimate presence in the soul,

  And his most perfect image in the world.

  —Endeavour thus to live; these rules regard;

  These helps solicit; and a stedfast seat

  Shall then be yours among the happy few 230

  Who dwell on earth, yet breathe empyreal air

  Sons of the morning. For your nobler part,

  Ere disencumbered of her mortal chains,

  Doubt shall be quelled and trouble chased away;

  With only such degree of sadness left

  As may support longings of pure desire;

  And strengthen love, rejoicing secretly

  In the sublime attractions of the grave.”

  While, in this strain, the venerable Sage

  Poured forth his aspirations, and announced 240

  His judgments, near that lonely house we paced

  A plot of greensward, seemingly preserved

  By nature’s care from wreck of scattered stones,

  And from encroachment of encircling heath:

  Small space! but, for reiterated steps,

  Smooth and commodious; as a stately deck

  Which to and fro the mariner is used

  To tread for pastime, talking with his mates,

  Or haply thinking of far-distant friends,

  While the ship glides before a steady breeze. 250

  Stillness prevailed around us: and the voice

  That spake was capable to lift the soul

  Toward regions yet more tranquil. But, methought,

  That he, whose fixed despondency had given

  Impulse and motive to that strong discourse,

  Was less upraised in spirit than abashed;

  Shrinking from admonition, like a man

  Who feels that to exhort is to reproach.

  Yet not to be diverted from his aim,

  The Sage continued:—

  “For that other loss, 260

  The loss of confidence in social man,

  By the unexpected transports of our age

  Carried so high, that every thought, which looked

  Beyond the temporal destiny of the Kind,

  To many seemed superfluous—as, no cause

  Could e’er for such exalted confidence

  Exist; so, none is now for fixed despair:

  The two extremes are equally disowned

  By reason: if, with sharp recoil, from one

  You have been driven far as its opposite, 270

  Between them seek the point whereon to build

  Sound expectations. So doth he advise

  Who shared at first the illusion; but was soon

  Cast from the pedestal of pride by shocks

  Which Nature gently gave, in woods and fields;

  Nor unreproved by Providence, thus speaking

  To the inattentive children of the world:

  ‘Vainglorious Generation! what new powers

  ‘On you have been conferred? what gifts, withheld

  ‘From your progenitors, have ye received, 280

  ‘Fit recompense of new desert? what claim

  ‘Are ye prepared to urge, that my decrees

  ‘For you should undergo a sudden change;

  ‘And the weak functions of one busy day,

  ‘Reclaiming and extirpating, perform

  ‘What all the slowly-moving years of time,

  ‘With their united force, have left undone?

  ‘By nature’s gradual processes be taught;

  ‘By story be confounded! Ye aspire

  ‘Rashly, to fall once more; and that false fruit, 290

  ‘Which, to your overweening spirits, yields

  ‘Hope of a flight celestial, will produce

  ‘Misery and shame. But Wisdom of her sons

  ‘Shall not the less, though late, be justified.’

  Such timely warning,” said the Wanderer, “gave

  That visionary voice; and, at this day,

  When a Tartarean darkness overspreads

  The groaning nations; when the impious rule,

  By will or by established ordinance,

  Their own dire agents, and constrain the good 300

  To acts which they abhor; though I bewail

  This triumph, yet the pity of my heart

  Prevents me not from owning, that the law,

  By which mankind now suffers, is most just.

  For by superior energies; more strict

  Affiance in each other; faith more firm

  In their unhallowed principles; the bad

  Have fairly earned a victory o’er the weak,

  The vacillating, inconsistent good.

  Therefore, not unconsoled, I wait—in hope 310

  To see the moment, when the righteous cause

  Shall gain defenders zealous and devout

  As they who have opposed her; in which Virtue

  Will, to her efforts, tolerate no bounds

  That are not lofty as her rights; aspiring

  By impulse of her own ethereal zeal.

  That spirit only can redeem mankind;

  And when that sacred spirit shall appear,

  Then shall ‘four’ triumph be complete as theirs.

  Yet, should this confidence prove vain, the wise 320

  Have still the keeping of their proper peace;

  Are guardians of their own tranquillity.

  They act, or they recede, observe, and feel;

  ‘Knowing the heart of man is set to be

  The centre of this world, about the which

  Those revolutions of disturbances

  Still r
oll; where all the aspects of misery

  Predominate; whose strong effects are such

  As he must bear, being powerless to redress;

  “And that unless above himself he can 330

  Erect himself, how poor a thing is Man!”‘

  Happy is he who lives to understand,

  Not human nature only, but explores

  All natures,—to the end that he may find

  The law that governs each; and where begins

  The union, the partition where, that makes

  Kind and degree, among all visible Beings;

  The constitutions, powers, and faculties,

  Which they inherit,—cannot step beyond,—

  And cannot fall beneath; that do assign 340

  To every class its station and its office,

  Through all the mighty commonwealth of things

  Up from the creeping plant to sovereign Man.

  Such converse, if directed by a meek,

  Sincere, and humble spirit, teaches love:

  For knowledge is delight; and such delight

  Breeds love: yet, suited as it rather is

  To thought and to the climbing intellect,

  It teaches less to love, than to adore;

  If that be not indeed the highest love!” 350

  “Yet,” said I, tempted here to interpose,

  “The dignity of life is not impaired

  By aught that innocently satisfies

  The humbler cravings of the heart; and he

  Is a still happier man, who, for those heights

  Of speculation not unfit, descends;

  And such benign affections cultivates

  Among the inferior kinds; not merely those

  That he may call his own, and which depend,

  As individual objects of regard, 360

  Upon his care, from whom he also looks

  For signs and tokens of a mutual bond;

  But others, far beyond this narrow sphere,

  Whom, for the very sake of love, he loves.

  Nor is it a mean praise of rural life

  And solitude, that they do favour most,

  Most frequently call forth, and best sustain,

  These pure sensations; that can penetrate

  The obstreperous city; on the barren seas

  Are not unfelt; and much might recommend, 370

  How much they might inspirit and endear,

  The loneliness of this sublime retreat!”

  “Yes,” said the Sage, resuming the discourse

  Again directed to his downcast Friend,

  “If, with the froward will and grovelling soul

  Of man, offended, liberty is here,

  And invitation every hour renewed,

  To mark ‘their’ placid state, who never heard

  Of a command which they have power to break,

  Or rule which they are tempted to transgress: 380

  These, with a soothed or elevated heart,

  May we behold; their knowledge register;

  Observe their ways; and, free from envy, find

  Complacence there:—but wherefore this to you?

  I guess that, welcome to your lonely hearth,

  The redbreast, ruffled up by winter’s cold

  Into a ‘feathery bunch,’ feeds at your hand:

  A box, perchance, is from your casement hung

  For the small wren to build in;—not in vain,

  The barriers disregarding that surround 390

  This deep abiding place, before your sight

  Mounts on the breeze the butterfly; and soars,

  Small creature as she is, from earth’s bright flowers,

  Into the dewy clouds. Ambition reigns

  In the waste wilderness: the Soul ascends

  Drawn towards her native firmament of heaven,

  When the fresh eagle, in the month of May,

  Upborne, at evening, on replenished wing,

  This shaded valley leaves; and leaves the dark

  Empurpled hills, conspicuously renewing 400

  A proud communication with the sun

  Low sunk beneath the horizon!—List!—I heard,

  From yon huge breast of rock, a voice sent forth

  As if the visible mountain made the cry.

  Again!”—The effect upon the soul was such

  As he expressed: from out the mountain’s heart

  The solemn voice appeared to issue, startling

  The blank air—for the region all around

  Stood empty of all shape of life, and silent

  Save for that single cry, the unanswered bleat 410

  Of a poor lamb—left somewhere to itself,

  The plaintive spirit of the solitude!

  He paused, as if unwilling to proceed,

  Through consciousness that silence in such place

  Was best, the most affecting eloquence.

  But soon his thoughts returned upon themselves,

  And, in soft tone of speech, thus he resumed.

  “Ah! if the heart, too confidently raised,

  Perchance too lightly occupied, or lulled

  Too easily, despise or overlook 420

  The vassalage that binds her to the earth,

  Her sad dependence upon time, and all

  The trepidations of mortality,

  What place so destitute and void—but there

  The little flower her vanity shall check;

  The trailing worm reprove her thoughtless pride?

  These craggy regions, these chaotic wilds,

  Does that benignity pervade, that warms

  The mole contented with her darksome walk

  In the cold ground; and to the emmet gives 430

  Her foresight, and intelligence that makes

  The tiny creatures strong by social league;

  Supports the generations, multiplies

  Their tribes, till we behold a spacious plain

  Or grassy bottom, all, with little hills—

  Their labour, covered, as a lake with waves;

  Thousands of cities, in the desert place

  Built up of life, and food, and means of life!

  Nor wanting here, to entertain the thought,

  Creatures that in communities exist, 440

  Less, as might seem, for general guardianship

  Or through dependence upon mutual aid,

  Than by participation of delight

  And a strict love of fellowship, combined.

  What other spirit can it be that prompts

  The gilded summer flies to mix and weave

  Their sports together in the solar beam,

  Or in the gloom of twilight hum their joy?

  More obviously the self-same influence rules

  The feathered kinds; the fieldfare’s pensive flock, 450

  The cawing rooks, and sea-mews from afar,

  Hovering above these inland solitudes,

  By the rough wind unscattered, at whose call

  Up through the trenches of the long-drawn vales

  Their voyage was begun: nor is its power

  Unfelt among the sedentary fowl

  That seek yon pool, and there prolong their stay

  In silent congress; or together roused

  Take flight; while with their clang the air resounds:

  And, over all, in that ethereal vault, 460

  Is the mute company of changeful clouds;

  Bright apparition, suddenly put forth,

  The rainbow smiling on the faded storm;

  The mild assemblage of the starry heavens;

  And the great sun, earth’s universal lord!

  How bountiful is Nature! he shall find

  Who seeks not; and to him, who hath not asked,

  Large measure shall be dealt. Three sabbath-days

  Are scarcely told, since, on a service bent

  Of mere humanity, you clomb those heights; 470

  And what a marvellous and heavenly show

 
; Was suddenly revealed!—the swains moved on,

  And heeded not: you lingered, you perceived

  And felt, deeply as living man could feel.

  There is a luxury in self-dispraise;

  And inward self-disparagement affords

  To meditative spleen a grateful feast.

  Trust me, pronouncing on your own desert,

  You judge unthankfully: distempered nerves

  Infect the thoughts: the languor of the frame 480

  Depresses the soul’s vigour. Quit your couch—

  Cleave not so fondly to your moody cell;

  Nor let the hallowed powers, that shed from heaven

  Stillness and rest, with disapproving eye

  Look down upon your taper, through a watch

  Of midnight hours, unseasonably twinkling

  In this deep Hollow, like a sullen star

  Dimly reflected in a lonely pool.

  Take courage, and withdraw yourself from ways

  That run not parallel to nature’s course. 490

  Rise with the lark! your matins shall obtain

  Grace, be their composition what it may,

  If but with hers performed; climb once again,

  Climb every day, those ramparts; meet the breeze

  Upon their tops, adventurous as a bee

  That from your garden thither soars, to feed

  On new-blown heath; let yon commanding rock

  Be your frequented watch-tower; roll the stone

  In thunder down the mountains; with all your might

  Chase the wild goat; and if the bold red deer 500

  Fly to those harbours, driven by hound and horn

  Loud echoing, add your speed to the pursuit;

  So, wearied to your hut shall you return,

  And sink at evening into sound repose.”

  The Solitary lifted toward the hills

  A kindling eye:—accordant feelings rushed

  Into my bosom, whence these words broke forth:

  “Oh! what a joy it were, in vigorous health,

  To have a body (this our vital frame

  With shrinking sensibility endued, 510

  And all the nice regards of flesh and blood)

  And to the elements surrender it

  As if it were a spirit!—How divine,

  The liberty, for frail, for mortal, man

  To roam at large among unpeopled glens

  And mountainous retirements, only trod

  By devious footsteps; regions consecrate

  To oldest time! and, reckless of the storm

  That keeps the raven quiet in her nest,

  Be as a presence or a motion—one 520

  Among the many there; and while the mists

  Flying, and rainy vapours, call out shapes

  And phantoms from the crags and solid earth

  As fast as a musician scatters sounds

  Out of an instrument; and while the streams

  (As at a first creation and in haste