Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

by William Wordsworth

  Faith absolute in God, including hope,

  And the defence that lies in boundless love

  Of his perfections; with habitual dread

  Of aught unworthily conceived, endured

  Impatiently, ill-done, or left undone,

  To the dishonour of his holy name.

  Soul of our Souls, and safeguard of the world!

  Sustain, thou only canst, the sick of heart;

  Restore their languid spirits, and recall 30

  Their lost affections unto thee and thine!”

  Then, as we issued from that covert nook,

  He thus continued, lifting up his eyes

  To heaven:—”How beautiful this dome of sky;

  And the vast hills, in fluctuation fixed

  At thy command, how awful! Shall the Soul,

  Human and rational, report of thee

  Even less than these?—Be mute who will, who can,

  Yet I will praise thee with impassioned voice:

  My lips, that may forget thee in the crowd, 40

  Cannot forget thee here; where thou hast built,

  For thy own glory, in the wilderness!

  Me didst thou constitute a priest of thine,

  In such a temple as we now behold

  Reared for thy presence: therefore, am I bound

  To worship, here, and everywhere—as one

  Not doomed to ignorance, though forced to tread,

  From childhood up, the ways of poverty;

  From unreflecting ignorance preserved,

  And from debasement rescued.—By thy grace 50

  The particle divine remained unquenched;

  And, ‘mid the wild weeds of a rugged soil,

  Thy bounty caused to flourish deathless flowers,

  From paradise transplanted: wintry age

  Impends; the frost will gather round my heart;

  If the flowers wither, I am worse than dead!

  —Come, labour, when the worn-out frame requires

  Perpetual sabbath; come, disease and want;

  And sad exclusion through decay of sense;

  But leave me unabated trust in thee— 60

  And let thy favour, to the end of life,

  Inspire me with ability to seek

  Repose and hope among eternal things—

  Father of heaven and earth! and I am rich,

  And will possess my portion in content!

  And what are things eternal?—powers depart,”

  The grey-haired Wanderer stedfastly replied,

  Answering the question which himself had asked,

  “Possessions vanish, and opinions change,

  And passions hold a fluctuating seat: 70

  But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken,

  And subject neither to eclipse nor wane,

  Duty exists;—immutably survive,

  For our support, the measures and the forms,

  Which an abstract intelligence supplies;

  Whose kingdom is, where time and space are not.

  Of other converse which mind, soul, and heart,

  Do, with united urgency, require,

  What more that may not perish?—Thou, dread source,

  Prime, self-existing cause and end of all 80

  That in the scale of being fill their place;

  Above our human region, or below,

  Set and sustained;—thou, who didst wrap the cloud

  Of infancy around us, that thyself,

  Therein, with our simplicity awhile

  Might’st hold, on earth, communion undisturbed;

  Who from the anarchy of dreaming sleep,

  Or from its death-like void, with punctual care,

  And touch as gentle as the morning light,

  Restor’st us, daily, to the powers of sense 90

  And reason’s stedfast rule—thou, thou alone

  Art everlasting, and the blessed Spirits,

  Which thou includest, as the sea her waves:

  For adoration thou endur’st; endure

  For consciousness the motions of thy will;

  For apprehension those transcendent truths

  Of the pure intellect, that stand as laws

  (Submission constituting strength and power)

  Even to thy Being’s infinite majesty!

  This universe shall pass away—a work 100

  Glorious! because the shadow of thy might,

  A step, or link, for intercourse with thee.

  Ah! if the time must come, in which my feet

  No more shall stray where meditation leads,

  By flowing stream, through wood, or craggy wild,

  Loved haunts like these; the unimprisoned Mind

  May yet have scope to range among her own,

  Her thoughts, her images, her high desires.

  If the dear faculty of sight should fail,

  Still, it may be allowed me to remember 110

  What visionary powers of eye and soul

  In youth were mine; when, stationed on the top

  Of some huge hill—expectant, I beheld

  The sun rise up, from distant climes returned

  Darkness to chase, and sleep; and bring the day

  His bounteous gift! or saw him toward the deep

  Sink, with a retinue of flaming clouds

  Attended; then, my spirit was entranced

  With joy exalted to beatitude;

  The measure of my soul was filled with bliss, 120

  And holiest love; as earth, sea, air, with light,

  With pomp, with glory, with magnificence!

  Those fervent raptures are for ever flown;

  And, since their date, my soul hath undergone

  Change manifold, for better or for worse:

  Yet cease I not to struggle, and aspire

  Heavenward; and chide the part of me that flags,

  Through sinful choice; or dread necessity

  On human nature from above imposed.

  ‘Tis, by comparison, an easy task 130

  Earth to despise; but, to converse with heaven—

  This is not easy:—to relinquish all

  We have, or hope, of happiness and joy,

  And stand in freedom loosened from this world,

  I deem not arduous; but must needs confess

  That ‘tis a thing impossible to frame

  Conceptions equal to the soul’s desires;

  And the most difficult of tasks to ‘keep’

  Heights which the soul is competent to gain.

  —Man is of dust: ethereal hopes are his, 140

  Which, when they should sustain themselves aloft,

  Want due consistence; like a pillar of smoke,

  That with majestic energy from earth

  Rises; but, having reached the thinner air,

  Melts, and dissolves, and is no longer seen.

  From this infirmity of mortal kind

  Sorrow proceeds, which else were not; at least,

  If grief be something hallowed and ordained,

  If, in proportion, it be just and meet,

  Yet, through this weakness of the general heart, 150

  Is it enabled to maintain its hold

  In that excess which conscience disapproves.

  For who could sink and settle to that point

  Of selfishness; so senseless who could be

  As long and perseveringly to mourn

  For any object of his love, removed

  From this unstable world, if he could fix

  A satisfying view upon that state

  Of pure, imperishable, blessedness,

  Which reason promises, and holy writ 160

  Ensures to all believers?—Yet mistrust

  Is of such incapacity, methinks,

  No natural branch; despondency far less;

  And, least of all, is absolute despair.

  —And, if there be whose tender frames have drooped

  Even to the dust; apparently, through weight

  O
f anguish unrelieved, and lack of power

  An agonizing sorrow to transmute;

  Deem not that proof is here of hope withheld

  When wanted most; a confidence impaired 170

  So pitiably, that, having ceased to see

  With bodily eyes, they are borne down by love

  Of what is lost, and perish through regret.

  Oh! no, the innocent Sufferer often sees

  Too clearly; feels too vividly; and longs

  To realize the vision, with intense

  And over-constant yearning,—there—there lies

  The excess, by which the balance is destroyed.

  Too, too contracted are these walls of flesh,

  This vital warmth too cold, these visual orbs, 180

  Though inconceivably endowed, too dim

  For any passion of the soul that leads

  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 ri
ghteous 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 roll; 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,