Book Read Free

Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

Page 67

by William Wordsworth


  So deeply, that, unsatisfied with aught

  Less pure and exquisite, he cannot choose

  But seek for objects of a kindred love

  In fellow-natures and a kindred joy.

  Accordingly he by degrees perceives

  His feelings of aversion softened down;

  A holy tenderness pervade his frame. 1220

  His sanity of reason not impaired,

  Say rather, all his thoughts now flowing clear,

  From a clear fountain flowing, he looks round

  And seeks for good; and finds the good he seeks:

  Until abhorrence and contempt are things

  He only knows by name; and, if he hear,

  From other mouths, the language which they speak,

  He is compassionate; and has no thought,

  No feeling, which can overcome his love.

  And further; by contemplating these Forms 1230

  In the relations which they bear to man,

  He shall discern, how, through the various means

  Which silently they yield, are multiplied

  The spiritual presences of absent things.

  Trust me, that for the instructed, time will come

  When they shall meet no object but may teach

  Some acceptable lesson to their minds

  Of human suffering, or of human joy.

  So shall they learn, while all things speak of man,

  Their duties from all forms; and general laws, 1240

  And local accidents, shall tend alike

  To rouse, to urge; and, with the will, confer

  The ability to spread the blessings wide

  Of true philanthropy. The light of love

  Not failing, perseverance from their steps

  Departing not, for them shall be confirmed

  The glorious habit by which sense is made

  Subservient still to moral purposes,

  Auxiliar to divine. That change shall clothe

  The naked spirit, ceasing to deplore 1250

  The burthen of existence. Science then

  Shall be a precious visitant; and then,

  And only then, be worthy of her name:

  For then her heart shall kindle; her dull eye,

  Dull and inanimate, no more shall hang

  Chained to its object in brute slavery;

  But taught with patient interest to watch

  The processes of things, and serve the cause

  Of order and distinctness, not for this

  Shall it forget that its most noble use, 1260

  Its most illustrious province, must be found

  In furnishing clear guidance, a support

  Not treacherous, to the mind’s ‘excursive’ power.

  —So build we up the Being that we are;

  Thus deeply drinking-in the soul of things

  We shall be wise perforce; and, while inspired

  By choice, and conscious that the Will is free,

  Shall move unswerving, even as if impelled

  By strict necessity, along the path

  Of order and of good. Whate’er we see, 1270

  Or feel, shall tend to quicken and refine;

  Shall fix, in calmer seats of moral strength,

  Earthly desires; and raise, to loftier heights

  Of divine love, our intellectual soul.”

  Here closed the Sage that eloquent harangue,

  Poured forth with fervour in continuous stream,

  Such as, remote, ‘mid savage wilderness,

  An Indian Chief discharges from his breast

  Into the hearing of assembled tribes,

  In open circle seated round, and hushed 1280

  As the unbreathing air, when not a leaf

  Stirs in the mighty woods.—So did he speak:

  The words he uttered shall not pass away

  Dispersed, like music that the wind takes up

  By snatches, and lets fall, to be forgotten;

  No—they sank into me, the bounteous gift

  Of one whom time and nature had made wise,

  Gracing his doctrine with authority

  Which hostile spirits silently allow;

  Of one accustomed to desires that feed 1290

  On fruitage gathered from the tree of life;

  To hopes on knowledge and experience built;

  Of one in whom persuasion and belief

  Had ripened into faith, and faith become

  A passionate intuition; whence the Soul,

  Though bound to earth by ties of pity and love,

  From all injurious servitude was free.

  The Sun, before his place of rest were reached,

  Had yet to travel far, but unto us,

  To us who stood low in that hollow dell, 1300

  He had become invisible,—a pomp

  Leaving behind of yellow radiance spread

  Over the mountain sides, in contrast bold

  With ample shadows, seemingly, no less

  Than those resplendent lights, his rich bequest;

  A dispensation of his evening power.

  —Adown the path that from the glen had led

  The funeral train, the Shepherd and his Mate

  Were seen descending:—forth to greet them ran

  Our little Page: the rustic pair approach; 1310

  And in the Matron’s countenance may be read

  Plain indication that the words, which told

  How that neglected Pensioner was sent

  Before his time into a quiet grave,

  Had done to her humanity no wrong:

  But we are kindly welcomed—promptly served

  With ostentatious zeal.—Along the floor

  Of the small Cottage in the lonely Dell

  A grateful couch was spread for our repose;

  Where, in the guise of mountaineers, we lay, 1320

  Stretched upon fragrant heath, and lulled by sound

  Of far-off torrents charming the still night,

  And, to tired limbs and over-busy thoughts,

  Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness.

  NOTES

  130 ‘‘Tis, by comparison, an easy task

  Earth to despise,’ etc.

  See, upon this subject, Baxter’s most interesting review of his

  own opinions and sentiments in the decline of life. It may be

  found (lately reprinted) in Dr. Wordsworth’s “Ecclesiastical

  Biography.”

  205 ‘Alas! the endowment of immortal Power

  Is matched unequally with custom, time,’ etc.

  This subject is treated at length in the Ode—Intimations of

  Immortality.

  324 ‘Knowing the heart of man is set to be,’ etc.

  The passage quoted from Daniel is taken from a poem addressed to

  the Lady Margaret, Countess of Cumberland, and the two last lines,

  printed in Italics, are by him translated from Seneca. The whole

  Poem is very beautiful. I will transcribe four stanzas from it, as

  they contain an admirable picture of the state of a wise Man’s

  mind in a time of public commotion.

  Nor is he moved with all the thunder-cracks

  Of tyrant’s threats, or with the surly brow

  Of Power, that proudly sits on others’ crimes;

  Charged with more crying sins than those he checks.

  The storms of sad confusion that may grow

  Up in the present for the coming times,

  Appal not him; that hath no side at all,

  But of himself, and knows the worst can fall.

  Although his heart (so near allied to earth)

  Cannot but pity the perplexed state

  Of troublous and distressed mortality,

  That thus make way unto the ugly birth

  Of their own sorrows, and do still beget

  Affliction upon Imbecility:

  Yet seeing thus the course of things must run,
<
br />   He looks thereon not strange, but as fore-done.

  And whilst distraught ambition compasses,

  And is encompassed, while as craft deceives,

  And is deceived: whilst man doth ransack man,

  And builds on blood, and rises by distress;

  And th’ Inheritance of desolation leaves

  To great-expecting hopes: He looks thereon,

  As from the shore of peace, with unwet eye,

  And bears no venture in Impiety.

  Thus, Lady, fares that man that hath prepared

  A rest for his desires; and sees all things

  Beneath him; and hath learned this book of man,

  Full of the notes of frailty; and compared

  The best of glory with her sufferings:

  By whom, I see, you labour all you can

  To plant your heart! and set your thoughts as near

  His glorious mansion as your powers can bear.

  BOOK FIFTH

  THE PASTOR

  “FAREWELL, deep Valley, with thy one rude House,

  And its small lot of life-supporting fields,

  And guardian rocks!—Farewell, attractive seat!

  To the still influx of the morning light

  Open, and day’s pure cheerfulness, but veiled

  From human observation, as if yet

  Primeval forests wrapped thee round with dark

  Impenetrable shade; once more farewell,

  Majestic circuit, beautiful abyss,

  By Nature destined from the birth of things 10

  For quietness profound!”

  Upon the side

  Of that brown ridge, sole outlet of the vale

  Which foot of boldest stranger would attempt,

  Lingering behind my comrades, thus I breathed

  A parting tribute to a spot that seemed

  Like the fixed centre of a troubled world.

  Again I halted with reverted eyes;

  The chain that would not slacken, was at length

  Snapt,—and, pursuing leisurely my way,

  How vain, thought I, is it by change of place 20

  To seek that comfort which the mind denies;

  Yet trial and temptation oft are shunned

  Wisely; and by such tenure do we hold

  Frail life’s possessions, that even they whose fate

  Yields no peculiar reason of complaint

  Might, by the promise that is here, be won

  To steal from active duties, and embrace

  Obscurity, and undisturbed repose.

  —Knowledge, methinks, in these disordered times,

  Should be allowed a privilege to have 30

  Her anchorites, like piety of old;

  Men, who, from faction sacred, and unstained

  By war, might, if so minded, turn aside

  Uncensured, and subsist, a scattered few

  Living to God and nature, and content

  With that communion. Consecrated be

  The spots where such abide! But happier still

  The Man, whom, furthermore, a hope attends

  That meditation and research may guide

  His privacy to principles and powers 40

  Discovered or invented; or set forth,

  Through his acquaintance with the ways of truth,

  In lucid order; so that, when his course

  Is run, some faithful eulogist may say,

  He sought not praise, and praise did overlook

  His unobtrusive merit; but his life,

  Sweet to himself, was exercised in good

  That shall survive his name and memory.

  Acknowledgments of gratitude sincere

  Accompanied these musings; fervent thanks 50

  For my own peaceful lot and happy choice;

  A choice that from the passions of the world

  Withdrew, and fixed me in a still retreat;

  Sheltered, but not to social duties lost,

  Secluded, but not buried; and with song

  Cheering my days, and with industrious thought;

  With the ever-welcome company of books;

  With virtuous friendship’s soul-sustaining aid,

  And with the blessings of domestic love.

  Thus occupied in mind I paced along, 60

  Following the rugged road, by sledge or wheel

  Worn in the moorland, till I overtook

  My two Associates, in the morning sunshine

  Halting together on a rocky knoll,

  Whence the bare road descended rapidly

  To the green meadows of another vale.

  Here did our pensive Host put forth his hand

  In sign of farewell. “Nay,” the old Man said,

  “The fragrant air its coolness still retains;

  The herds and flocks are yet abroad to crop 70

  The dewy grass; you cannot leave us now,

  We must not part at this inviting hour.”

  He yielded, though reluctant; for his mind

  Instinctively disposed him to retire

  To his own covert; as a billow, heaved

  Upon the beach, rolls back into the sea.

  —So we descend: and winding round a rock

  Attain a point that showed the valley—stretched

  In length before us; and, not distant far,

  Upon a rising ground a grey church-tower, 80

  Whose battlements were screened by tufted trees.

  And towards a crystal Mere, that lay beyond

  Among steep hills and woods embosomed, flowed

  A copious stream with boldly-winding course;

  Here traceable, there hidden—there again

  To sight restored, and glittering in the sun.

  On the stream’s bank, and everywhere, appeared

  Fair dwellings, single, or in social knots;

  Some scattered o’er the level, others perched

  On the hill sides, a cheerful quiet scene, 90

  Now in its morning purity arrayed.

  “As ‘mid some happy valley of the Alps,”

  Said I, “once happy, ere tyrannic power,

  Wantonly breaking in upon the Swiss,

  Destroyed their unoffending commonwealth,

  A popular equality reigns here,

  Save for yon stately House beneath whose roof

  A rural lord might dwell.”—”No feudal pomp,

  Or power,” replied the Wanderer, “to that House

  Belongs, but there in his allotted Home 100

  Abides, from year to year, a genuine Priest,

  The shepherd of his flock; or, as a king

  Is styled, when most affectionately praised,

  The father of his people. Such is he;

  And rich and poor, and young and old, rejoice

  Under his spiritual sway. He hath vouchsafed

  To me some portion of a kind regard;

  And something also of his inner mind

  Hath he imparted—but I speak of him

  As he is known to all.

  The calm delights 110

  Of unambitious piety he chose,

  And learning’s solid dignity; though born

  Of knightly race, nor wanting powerful friends.

  Hither, in prime of manhood, he withdrew

  From academic bowers. He loved the spot—

  Who does not love his native soil?—he prized

  The ancient rural character, composed

  Of simple manners, feelings unsupprest

  And undisguised, and strong and serious thought

  A character reflected in himself, 120

  With such embellishment as well beseems

  His rank and sacred function. This deep vale

  Winds far in reaches hidden from our sight,

  And one a turreted manorial hall

  Adorns, in which the good Man’s ancestors

  Have dwelt through ages, Patrons of this Cure.

  To them, and to his own judicious pains,

&
nbsp; The Vicar’s dwelling, and the whole domain,

  Owes that presiding aspect which might well

  Attract your notice; statelier than could else 130

  Have been bestowed, through course of common chance,

  On an unwealthy mountain Benefice.”

  This said, oft pausing, we pursued our way;

  Nor reached the village-churchyard till the sun

  Travelling at steadier pace than ours, had risen

  Above the summits of the highest hills,

  And round our path darted oppressive beams.

  As chanced, the portals of the sacred Pile

  Stood open; and we entered. On my frame,

  At such transition from the fervid air, 140

  A grateful coolness fell, that seemed to strike

  The heart, in concert with that temperate awe

  And natural reverence which the place inspired.

  Not raised in nice proportions was the pile,

  But large and massy; for duration built;

  With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld

  By naked rafters intricately crossed,

  Like leafless underboughs, in some thick wood,

  All withered by the depth of shade above.

  Admonitory texts inscribed the walls, 150

  Each, in its ornamental scroll, enclosed;

  Each also crowned with winged heads—a pair

  Of rudely-painted Cherubim. The floor

  Of nave and aisle, in unpretending guise,

  Was occupied by oaken benches ranged

  In seemly rows; the chancel only showed

  Some vain distinctions, marks of earthly state

  By immemorial privilege allowed;

  Though with the Encincture’s special sanctity

  But ill according. An heraldic shield, 160

  Varying its tincture with the changeful light,

  Imbued the altar-window; fixed aloft

  A faded hatchment hung, and one by time

  Yet undiscoloured. A capacious pew

  Of sculptured oak stood here, with drapery lined;

  And marble monuments were here displayed

  Thronging the walls; and on the floor beneath

  Sepulchral stones appeared, with emblems graven

  And foot-worn epitaphs, and some with small

  And shining effigies of brass inlaid. 170

  The tribute by these various records claimed,

  Duly we paid, each after each, and read

  The ordinary chronicle of birth,

  Office, alliance, and promotion—all

  Ending in dust; of upright magistrates,

  Grave doctors strenuous for the mother-church,

  And uncorrupted senators, alike

  To king and people true. A brazen plate,

  Not easily deciphered, told of one

  Whose course of earthly honour was begun 180

  In quality of page among the train

 

‹ Prev