Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

by William Wordsworth

  Him, in whose wretched heart ambition failed,

  Dire poverty assailed;

  And, tired with slights his pride no more could brook,

  He towards his native country cast a longing look.

  Fair blew the wished-for wind—the voyage sped; 90

  He landed; and, by many dangers scared,

  “Poorly provided, poorly followed,”

  To Calaterium’s forest he repaired.

  How changed from him who, born to highest place,

  Had swayed the royal mace,

  Flattered and feared, despised yet deified,

  In Troynovant, his seat by silver Thames’s side!

  From that wild region where the crownless King

  Lay in concealment with his scanty train,

  Supporting life by water from the spring, 100

  And such chance food as outlaws can obtain,

  Unto the few whom he esteems his friends

  A messenger he sends;

  And from their secret loyalty requires

  Shelter and daily bread,—the sum of his desires.

  While he the issue waits, at early morn

  Wandering by stealth abroad, he chanced to hear

  A startling outcry made by hound and horn,

  From which the tusky wild boar flies in fear;

  And, scouring toward him o’er the grassy plain, 110

  Behold the hunter train!

  He bids his little company advance

  With seeming unconcern and steady countenance.

  The royal Elidure, who leads the chase,

  Hath checked his foaming courser:—can it be!

  Methinks that I should recognise that face,

  Though much disguised by long adversity!

  He gazed rejoicing, and again he gazed,

  Confounded and amazed—

  “It is the king, my brother!” and, by sound 120

  Of his own voice confirmed, he leaps upon the ground.

  Long, strict, and tender was the embrace he gave,

  Feebly returned by daunted Artegal;

  Whose natural affection doubts enslave,

  And apprehensions dark and criminal.

  Loth to restrain the moving interview,

  The attendant lords withdrew;

  And, while they stood upon the plain apart,

  Thus Elidure, by words, relieved his struggling heart.

  “By heavenly Powers conducted, we have met; 130

  —O Brother! to my knowledge lost so long,

  But neither lost to love, nor to regret,

  Nor to my wishes lost;—forgive the wrong,

  (Such it may seem) if I thy crown have borne,

  Thy royal mantle worn:

  I was their natural guardian; and ‘tis just

  That now I should restore what hath been held in trust.”

  A while the astonished Artegal stood mute,

  Then thus exclaimed: “To me, of titles shorn,

  And stripped of power! me, feeble, destitute, 140

  To me a kingdom! spare the bitter scorn:

  If justice ruled the breast of foreign kings,

  Then, on the wide-spread wings

  Of war, had I returned to claim my right;

  This will I here avow, not dreading thy despite.”

  “I do not blame thee,” Elidure replied;

  “But, if my looks did with my words agree,

  I should at once be trusted, not defied,

  And thou from all disquietude be free.

  May the unsullied Goddess of the chase, 150

  Who to this blessed place

  At this blest moment led me, if I speak

  With insincere intent, on me her vengeance wreak!

  “Were this same spear, which in my hand I grasp.

  The British sceptre, here would I to thee

  The symbol yield; and would undo this clasp,

  If it confined the robe of sovereignty.

  Odious to me the pomp of regal court,

  And joyless sylvan sport,

  While thou art roving, wretched and forlorn, 160

  Thy couch the dewy earth, thy roof the forest thorn!”

  Then Artegal thus spake: “I only sought,

  Within this realm a place of safe retreat;

  Beware of rousing an ambitious thought;

  Beware of kindling hopes, for me unmeet!

  Thou art reputed wise, but in my mind

  Art pitiably blind:

  Full soon this generous purpose thou may’st rue,

  When that which has been done no wishes can undo.

  “Who, when a crown is fixed upon his head, 170

  Would balance claim with claim, and right with right?

  But thou—I know not how inspired, how led—

  Wouldst change the course of things in all men’s sight!

  And this for one who cannot imitate

  Thy virtue, who may hate:

  For, if, by such strange sacrifice restored,

  He reign, thou still must be his king, and sovereign lord;

  “Lifted in magnanimity above

  Aught that my feeble nature could perform,

  Or even conceive; surpassing me in love 180

  Far as in power the eagle doth the worm.

  I, Brother! only should be king in name,

  And govern to my shame;

  A shadow in a hated land, while all

  Of glad or willing service to thy share would fall.”

  “Believe it not,” said Elidure; “respect

  Awaits on virtuous life, and ever most

  Attends on goodness with dominion decked,

  Which stands the universal empire’s boast;

  This can thy own experience testify: 190

  Nor shall thy foes deny

  That, in the gracious opening of thy reign,

  Our father’s spirit seemed in thee to breathe again.

  “And what if o’er thy bright unbosoming

  Clouds of disgrace and envious fortune past!

  Have we not seen the glories of the spring

  By veil of noontide darkness overcast?

  The frith that glittered like a warrior’s shield,

  The sky, the gay green field,

  Are vanished; gladness ceases in the groves, 200

  And trepidation strikes the blackened mountain-coves.

  “But is that gloom dissolved? how passing clear

  Seems the wide world, far brighter than before!

  Even so thy latent worth will re-appear,

  Gladdening the people’s heart from shore to shore;

  For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone;

  Re-seated on thy throne,

  Proof shalt thou furnish that misfortune, pain,

  And sorrow, have confirmed thy native right to reign.

  “But, not to overlook what thou may’st know, 210

  Thy enemies are neither weak nor few;

  And circumspect must be our course, and slow

  Or from my purpose ruin may ensue.

  Dismiss thy followers;—let them calmly wait

  Such change in thy estate

  As I already have in thought devised;

  And which, with caution due, may soon be realised.”

  The Story tells what courses were pursued,

  Until king Elidure, with full consent

  Of all his peers, before the multitude, 220

  Rose,—and, to consummate this just intent,

  Did place upon his brother’s head the crown,

  Relinquished by his own;

  Then to his people cried, “Receive your lord,

  Gorbonian’s first-born son, your rightful king restored!”

  The people answered with a loud acclaim:

  Yet more;—heart-smitten by the heroic deed,

  The reinstated Artegal became

  Earth’s noblest penitent; from bondage freed

  Of vice—thenceforth unable to subvert 230

  Or shake his hi
gh desert.

  Long did he reign; and, when he died, the tear

  Of universal grief bedewed his honoured bier.

  Thus was a Brother by a Brother saved;

  With whom a crown (temptation that hath set

  Discord in hearts of men till they have braved

  Their nearest kin with deadly purpose met)

  ‘Gainst duty weighed, and faithful love, did seem

  A thing of no esteem;

  And, from this triumph of affection pure, 240

  He bore the lasting name of “pious Elidure.”

  1815.

  SEPTEMBER 1815

  WHILE not a leaf seems faded; while the fields,

  With ripening harvest prodigally fair,

  In brightest sunshine bask; this nipping air,

  Sent from some distant clime where Winter wields

  His icy scimitar, a foretaste yields

  Of bitter change, and bids the flowers beware;

  And whispers to the silent birds, “Prepare

  Against the threatening foe your trustiest shields.”

  For me, who under kindlier laws belong

  To Nature’s tuneful quire, this rustling dry 10

  Through leaves yet green, and yon crystalline sky,

  Announce a season potent to renew,

  ‘Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song,

  And nobler cares than listless summer knew.

  NOVEMBER 1

  HOW clear, how keen, how marvellously bright

  The effluence from yon distant mountain’s head,

  Which, strewn with snow smooth as the sky can shed,

  Shines like another sun—on mortal sight

  Uprisen, as if to check approaching Night,

  And all her twinkling stars. Who now would tread,

  If so he might, yon mountain’s glittering head—

  Terrestrial, but a surface, by the flight

  Of sad mortality’s earth-sullying wing,

  Unswept, unstained? Nor shall the aerial Powers 10

  Dissolve that beauty, destined to endure,

  White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure,

  Through all vicissitudes, till genial Spring

  Has filled the laughing vales with welcome flowers.

  1815.

  THE FAIREST, BRIGHTEST, HUES OF ETHER FADE

  THE fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade;

  The sweetest notes must terminate and die;

  O Friend! thy flute has breathed a harmony

  Softly resounded through this rocky glade;

  Such strains of rapture as the Genius played

  In his still haunt on Bagdad’s summit high;

  He who stood visible to Mirza’s eye,

  Never before to human sight betrayed.

  Lo, in the vale, the mists of evening spread!

  The visionary Arches are not there, 10

  Nor the green Islands, nor the shining Seas:

  Yet sacred is to me this Mountain’s head,

  Whence I have risen, uplifted, on the breeze

  Of harmony, above all earthly care.

  WEAK IS THE WILL OF MAN, HIS JUDGMENT BLIND

  ‘WEAK is the will of Man, his judgment blind;

  ‘Remembrance persecutes, and Hope betrays;

  ‘Heavy is woe;—and joy, for human-kind,

  ‘A mournful thing, so transient is the blaze!’

  Thus might ‘he’ paint our lot of mortal days

  Who wants the glorious faculty assigned

  To elevate the more-than-reasoning Mind,

  And colour life’s dark cloud with orient rays.

  Imagination is that sacred power,

  Imagination lofty and refined; 10

  ‘Tis hers to pluck the amaranthine flower

  Of Faith, and round the Sufferer’s temples bind

  Wreaths that endure affliction’s heaviest shower,

  And do not shrink from sorrow’s keenest wind.

  HAIL, TWILIGHT, SOVEREIGN OF ONE PEACEFUL HOUR

  HAIL Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour!

  Not dull art Thou as undiscerning Night;

  But studious only to remove from sight

  Day’s mutable distinctions.—Ancient Power!

  Thus did the waters gleam, the mountains lower,

  To the rude Briton, when, in wolf-skin vest

  Here roving wild, he laid him down to rest

  On the bare rock, or through a leafy bower

  Looked ere his eyes were closed. By him was seen

  The self-same Vision which we now behold; 10

  At thy meek bidding, shadowy Power! brought forth

  These mighty barriers, and the gulf between;

  The flood, the stars,—a spectacle as old

  As the beginning of the heavens and earth!

  THE SHEPHERD, LOOKING EASTWARD, SOFTLY SAID

  THE Shepherd, looking eastward, softly said,

  “Bright is thy veil, O Moon, as thou art bright!”

  Forthwith, that little cloud, in ether spread

  And penetrated all with tender light,

  She cast away, and showed her fulgent head

  Uncovered; dazzling the Beholder’s sight

  As if to vindicate her beauty’s right

  Her beauty thoughtlessly disparaged.

  Meanwhile that veil, removed or thrown aside,

  Went floating from her, darkening as it went; 10

  And a huge mass, to bury or to hide,

  Approached this glory of the firmament;

  Who meekly yields, and is obscured—content

  With one calm triumph of a modest pride.

  EVEN AS A DRAGON’S EYE THAT FEELS THE STRESS

  EVEN as a dragon’s eye that feels the stress

  Of a bedimming sleep, or as a lamp

  Suddenly glaring through sepulchral damp,

  So burns yon Taper ‘mid a black recess

  Of mountains, silent, dreary, motionless:

  The lake below reflects it not; the sky,

  Muffled in clouds, affords no company

  To mitigate and cheer its loneliness.

  Yet, round the body of that joyless Thing

  Which sends so far its melancholy light, 10

  Perhaps are seated in domestic ring

  A gay society with faces bright,

  Conversing, reading, laughing;—or they sing,

  While hearts and voices in the song unite.

  MARK THE CONCENTRED HAZELS THAT ENCLOSE

  MARK the concentred hazels that enclose

  Yon old grey Stone, protected from the ray

  Of noontide suns:—and even the beams that play

  And glance, while wantonly the rough wind blows,

  Are seldom free to touch the moss that grows

  Upon that roof, amid embowering gloom,

  The very image framing of a Tomb,

  In which some ancient Chieftain finds repose

  Among the lonely mountains.—Live, ye trees!

  And thou, grey Stone, the pensive likeness keep 10

  Of a dark chamber where the Mighty sleep:

  For more than Fancy to the influence bends

  When solitary Nature condescends

  To mimic Time’s forlorn humanities.

  TO THE POET, JOHN DYER

  BARD of the Fleece, whose skilful genius made

  That work a living landscape fair and bright;

  Nor hallowed less with musical delight

  Than those soft scenes through which thy childhood strayed,

  Those southern tracts of Cambria, “deep embayed,

  With green hills fenced, with ocean’s murmur lulled;”

  Though hasty Fame hath many a chaplet culled

  For worthless brows, while in the pensive shade

  Of cold neglect she leaves thy head ungraced,

  Yet pure and powerful minds, hearts meek and still, 10

  A grateful few, shall love thy modest Lay,

  Long as the shepherd’s
bleating flock shall stray

  O’er naked Snowdon’s wide aerial waste;

  Long as the thrush shall pipe on Grongar Hill!

  BROOK! WHOSE SOCIETY THE POET SEEKS

  BROOK! whose society the Poet seeks,

  Intent his wasted spirits to renew;

  And whom the curious Painter doth pursue

  Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks,

  And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks;

  If wish were mine some type of thee to view,

  Thee, and not thee thyself, I would not do

  Like Grecian Artists, give thee human cheeks,

  Channels for tears; no Naiad should’st thou be,—

  Have neither limbs, feet, feathers, joints nor hairs: 10

  It seems the Eternal Soul is clothed in thee

  With purer robes than those of flesh and blood,

  And hath bestowed on thee a safer good;

  Unwearied joy, and life without its cares.

  SURPRISED BY JOY—IMPATIENT AS THE WIND

  SURPRISED by joy—impatient as the Wind

  I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom

  But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,

  That spot which no vicissitude can find?

  Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—

  But how could I forget thee? Through what power,

  Even for the least division of an hour,

  Have I been so beguiled as to be blind

  To my most grievous loss?—That thought’s return

  Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, 10

  Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,

  Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;

  That neither present time, nor years unborn

  Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

  ODE: THE MORNING OF THE DAY APPOINTED FOR A GENERAL THANKSGIVING. JANUARY 18, 1816

  I

  HAIL, orient Conqueror of gloomy Night!

  Thou that canst shed the bliss of gratitude

  On hearts howe’er insensible or rude;

  Whether thy punctual visitations smite

  The haughty towers where monarchs dwell;

  Or thou, impartial Sun, with presence bright

  Cheer’st the low threshold of the peasant’s cell!

  Not unrejoiced I see thee climb the sky

  In naked splendour, clear from mist or haze,

  Or cloud approaching to divert the rays,

  Which even in deepest winter testify

  Thy power and majesty,