Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

by William Wordsworth

  By cares in which simplicity is lost? 90

  That life—the flowery path that winds by stealth—

  Which Horace needed for his spirit’s health;

  Sighed for, in heart and genius, overcome

  By noise and strife, and questions wearisome,

  And the vain splendours of Imperial Rome?—

  Let easy mirth his social hours inspire,

  And fiction animate his sportive lyre,

  Attuned to verse that, crowning light Distress

  With garlands, cheats her into happiness;

  Give ‘me’ the humblest note of those sad strains 100

  Drawn forth by pressure of his gilded chains,

  As a chance-sunbeam from his memory fell

  Upon the Sabine farm he loved so well;

  Or when the prattle of Blandusia’s spring

  Haunted his ear—he only listening—

  He, proud to please, above all rivals, fit

  To win the palm of gaiety and wit;

  He, doubt not, with involuntary dread,

  Shrinking from each new favour to be shed,

  By the world’s Ruler, on his honoured head! 110

  In a deep vision’s intellectual scene,

  Such earnest longings and regrets as keen

  Depressed the melancholy Cowley, laid

  Under a fancied yew-tree’s luckless shade;

  A doleful bower for penitential song,

  Where Man and Muse complained of mutual wrong;

  While Cam’s ideal current glided by,

  And antique towers nodded their foreheads high,

  Citadels dear to studious privacy.

  But Fortune, who had long been used to sport 120

  With this tried Servant of a thankless Court,

  Relenting met his wishes; and to you

  The remnant of his days at least was true;

  You, whom, though long deserted, he loved best;

  You, Muses, books, fields, liberty, and rest!

  Far happier they who, fixing hope and aim

  On the humanities of peaceful fame,

  Enter betimes with more than martial fire

  The generous course, aspire, and still aspire;

  Upheld by warnings heeded not too late 130

  Stifle the contradictions of their fate,

  And to one purpose cleave, their Being’s godlike mate!

  Thus, gifted Friend, but with the placid brow

  That woman ne’er should forfeit, keep ‘thy’ vow;

  With modest scorn reject whate’er would blind

  The ethereal eyesight, cramp the winged mind!

  Then, with a blessing granted from above

  To every act, word, thought, and look of love,

  Life’s book for Thee may lie unclosed, till age

  Shall with a thankful tear bedrop its latest page. 140

  1829.

  HUMANITY

  WHAT though the Accused, upon his own appeal

  To righteous Gods when man has ceased to feel,

  Or at a doubting Judge’s stern command,

  Before the STONE OF POWER no longer stand—

  To take his sentence from the balanced Block,

  As, at his touch, it rocks, or seems to rock;

  Though, in the depths of sunless groves, no more

  The Druid-priest the hallowed Oak adore;

  Yet, for the Initiate, rocks and whispering trees

  Do still perform mysterious offices! 10

  And functions dwell in beast and bird that sway

  The reasoning mind, or with the fancy play,

  Inviting, at all seasons, ears and eyes

  To watch for undelusive auguries:—

  Not uninspired appear their simplest ways;

  Their voices mount symbolical of praise—

  To mix with hymns that Spirits make and hear;

  And to fallen man their innocence is dear.

  Enraptured Art draws from those sacred springs

  Streams that reflect the poetry of things! 20

  Where christian Martyrs stand in hues portrayed,

  That, might a wish avail, would never fade;

  Borne in their hands the lily and the palm

  Shed round the altar a celestial calm;

  There, too, behold the lamb and guileless dove

  Prest in the tenderness of virgin love

  To saintly bosoms!—Glorious is the blending

  Of right affections climbing or descending

  Along a scale of light and life, with cares

  Alternate; carrying holy thoughts and prayers 30

  Up to the sovereign seat of the Most High;

  Descending to the worm in charity;

  Like those good Angels whom a dream of night

  Gave, in the field of Luz, to Jacob’s sight

  All, while ‘he’ slept, treading the pendent stairs

  Earthward or heavenward, radiant messengers,

  That, with a perfect will in one accord

  Of strict obedience, serve the Almighty Lord;

  And with untired humility forbore

  To speed their errand by the wings they wore. 40

  What a fair world were ours for verse to paint,

  If Power could live at ease with self-restraint!

  Opinion bow before the naked sense

  Of the great Vision,—faith in Providence;

  Merciful over all his creatures, just

  To the least particle of sentient dust:

  But, fixing by immutable decrees,

  Seedtime and harvest for his purposes!

  Then would be closed the restless oblique eye

  That looks for evil like a treacherous spy; 50

  Disputes would then relax, like stormy winds

  That into breezes sink; impetuous minds

  By discipline endeavour to grow meek

  As Truth herself, whom they profess to seek.

  Then Genius, shunning fellowship with Pride,

  Would braid his golden locks at Wisdom’s side;

  Love ebb and flow untroubled by caprice;

  And not alone ‘harsh’ tyranny would cease,

  But unoffending creatures find release

  From qualified oppression, whose defence 60

  Rests on a hollow plea of recompence;

  Thought-tempered wrongs, for each humane respect

  Oft worse to bear, or deadlier in effect.

  Witness those glances of indignant scorn

  From some high-minded Slave, impelled to spurn

  The kindness that would make him less forlorn;

  Or, if the soul to bondage be subdued,

  His look of pitiable gratitude!

  Alas for thee, bright Galaxy of Isles,

  Whose day departs in pomp, returns with smiles— 70

  To greet the flowers and fruitage of a land,

  As the sun mounts, by sea-born breezes fanned;

  A land whose azure mountain-tops are seats

  For Gods in council, whose green vales, retreats

  Fit for the shades of heroes, mingling there

  To breathe Elysian peace in upper air.

  Though cold as winter, gloomy as the grave,

  Stone-walls a prisoner make, but not a slave.

  Shall man assume a property in man?

  Lay on the moral will a withering ban? 80

  Shame that our laws at distance still protect

  Enormities, which they at home reject!

  “Slaves cannot breathe in England”—yet that boast

  Is but a mockery! when from coast to coast,

  Though ‘fettered’ slave be none, her floors and soil

  Groan underneath a weight of slavish toil,

  For the poor Many, measured out by rules

  Fetched with cupidity from heartless schools,

  That to an Idol, falsely called “the Wealth

  Of Nations,” sacrifice a People’s health, 90

  Body and mind and soul; a thirst so kee
n

  Is ever urging on the vast machine

  Of sleepless Labour, ‘mid whose dizzy wheels

  The Power least prized is that which thinks and feels.

  Then, for the pastimes of this delicate age,

  And all the heavy or light vassalage

  Which for their sakes we fasten, as may suit

  Our varying moods, on human kind or brute,

  ‘Twere well in little, as in great, to pause,

  Lest Fancy trifle with eternal laws. 100

  Not from his fellows only man may learn

  Rights to compare and duties to discern!

  All creatures and all objects, in degree,

  Are friends and patrons of humanity.

  There are to whom the garden, grove, and field,

  Perpetual lessons of forbearance yield;

  Who would not lightly violate the grace

  The lowliest flower possesses in its place;

  Nor shorten the sweet life, too fugitive,

  Which nothing less than Infinite Power could give. 110

  1829.

  THIS LAWN, A CARPET ALL ALIVE

  THIS Lawn, a carpet all alive

  With shadows flung from leaves—to strive

  In dance, amid a press

  Of sunshine, an apt emblem yields

  Of Worldlings revelling in the fields

  Of strenuous idleness;

  Less quick the stir when tide and breeze

  Encounter, and to narrow seas

  Forbid a moment’s rest;

  The medley less when boreal Lights 10

  Glance to and fro, like aery Sprites

  To feats of arms addrest!

  Yet, spite of all this eager strife,

  This ceaseless play, the genuine life

  That serves the stedfast hours,

  Is in the grass beneath, that grows

  Unheeded, and the mute repose

  Of sweetly-breathing flowers.

  1829.

  THOUGHT ON THE SEASONS

  FLATTERED with promise of escape

  From every hurtful blast,

  Spring takes, O sprightly May! thy shape,

  Her loveliest and her last.

  Less fair is summer riding high

  In fierce solstitial power,

  Less fair than when a lenient sky

  Brings on her parting hour.

  When earth repays with golden sheaves

  The labours of the plough, 10

  And ripening fruits and forest leaves

  All brighten on the bough;

  What pensive beauty autumn shows,

  Before she hears the sound

  Of winter rushing in, to close

  The emblematic round!

  Such be our Spring, our Summer such;

  So may our Autumn blend

  With hoary Winter, and Life touch,

  Through heaven-born hope, her end! 20

  1829.

  A GRAVESTONE UPON THE FLOOR IN THE CLOISTERS OF WORCESTER CATHEDRAL

  “MISERRIMUS,” and neither name nor date,

  Prayer, text, or symbol, graven upon the stone;

  Nought but that word assigned to the unknown,

  That solitary word—to separate

  From all, and cast a cloud around the fate

  Of him who lies beneath. Most wretched one,

  ‘Who’ chose his epitaph?—Himself alone

  Could thus have dared the grave to agitate,

  And claim, among the dead, this awful crown;

  Nor doubt that He marked also for his own 10

  Close to these cloistral steps a burial-place,

  That every foot might fall with heavier tread,

  Trampling upon his vileness. Stranger, pass

  Softly!—To save the contrite, Jesus bled.

  1829.

  A TRADITION OF OKER HILL IN DARLEY DALE, DERBYSHIRE

  ‘TIS said that to the brow of yon fair hill

  Two Brothers clomb, and, turning face from face,

  Nor one look more exchanging, grief to still

  Or feed, each planted on that lofty place

  A chosen Tree; then, eager to fulfil

  Their courses, like two new-born rivers, they

  In opposite directions urged their way

  Down from the far-seen mount. No blast might kill

  Or blight that fond memorial;—the trees grew,

  And now entwine their arms; but ne’er again 10

  Embraced those Brothers upon earth’s wide plain;

  Nor aught of mutual joy or sorrow knew

  Until their spirits mingled in the sea

  That to itself takes all, Eternity.

  1829.

  THE ARMENIAN LADY’S LOVE

  I

  YOU have heard “a Spanish Lady

  How she wooed an English man;”

  Hear now of a fair Armenian,

  Daughter of the proud Soldan;

  How she loved a Christian slave, and told her pain

  By word, look, deed, with hope that he might love again.

  II

  “Pluck that rose, it moves my liking,”

  Said she, lifting up her veil;

  “Pluck it for me, gentle gardener,

  Ere it wither and grow pale.”

  “Princess fair, I till the ground, but may not take

  From twig or bed an humbler flower, even for your sake!”

  III

  “Grieved am I, submissive Christian!

  To behold thy captive state;

  Women, in your land, may pity

  (May they not?) the unfortunate.”

  “Yes, kind Lady! otherwise man could not bear

  Life, which to every one that breathes is full of care.”

  IV

  “Worse than idle is compassion

  If it end in tears and sighs;

  Thee from bondage would I rescue

  And from vile indignities;

  Nurtured, as thy mien bespeaks, in high degree,

  Look up—and help a hand that longs to set thee free.”

  V

  “Lady! dread the wish, nor venture

  In such peril to engage;

  Think how it would stir against you

  Your most loving father’s rage:

  Sad deliverance would it be, and yoked with shame,

  Should troubles overflow on her from whom it came.”

  VI

  “Generous Frank! the just in effort

  Are of inward peace secure:

  Hardships for the brave encountered,

  Even the feeblest may endure:

  If almighty grace through me thy chains unbind

  My father for slave’s work may seek a slave in mind.”

  VII

  “Princess, at this burst of goodness,

  My long-frozen heart grows warm!”

  “Yet you make all courage fruitless,

  Me to save from chance of harm:

  Leading such companion I that gilded dome,

  Yon minarets, would gladly leave for his worst home.”

  VIII

  “Feeling tunes your voice, fair Princess,

  And your brow is free from scorn,

  Else these words would come like mockery,

  Sharper than the pointed thorn.”

  “Whence the undeserved mistrust? Too wide apart

  Our faith hath been,—O would that eyes could see the heart!”

  IX

  “Tempt me not, I pray; my doom is

  These base implements to wield;

  Rusty lance, I ne’er shall grasp thee,

  Ne’er assoil my cobwebbed shield!

  Never see my native land, nor castle towers,

  Nor Her who thinking of me there counts widowed hours.”

  X

  “Prisoner! pardon youthful fancies;

  Wedded? If you ‘can’, say no!

  Blessed is and be your consort;

  Hopes I cherished—let them go!

  H
andmaid’s privilege would leave my purpose free,

  Without another link to my felicity.”

  XI

  “Wedded love with loyal Christians,

  Lady, is a mystery rare;

  Body, heart, and soul in union,

  Make one being of a pair.”

  “Humble love in me would look for no return,

  Soft as a guiding star that cheers, but cannot burn.”

  XII

  “Gracious Allah! by such title

  Do I dare to thank the God,

  Him who thus exalts thy spirit,

  Flower of an unchristian sod!

  Or hast thou put off wings which thou in heaven dost wear?

  What have I seen, and heard, or dreamt? where am I? where?”

  XIII

  Here broke off the dangerous converse:

  Less impassioned words might tell

  How the pair escaped together,

  Tears not wanting, nor a knell

  Of sorrow in her heart while through her father’s door,

  And from her narrow world, she passed for evermore.

  XIV

  But affections higher, holier,

  Urged her steps; she shrunk from trust

  In a sensual creed that trampled

  Woman’s birthright into dust.

  Little be the wonder then, the blame be none,

  If she, a timid Maid, hath put such boldness on.

  XV

  Judge both Fugitives with knowledge:

  In those old romantic days

  Mighty were the soul’s commandments

  To support, restrain, or raise.

  Foes might hang upon their path, snakes rustle near,

  But nothing from their inward selves had they to fear.

  XVI

  Thought infirm ne’er came between them,

  Whether printing desert sands

  With accordant steps, or gathering

  Forest-fruit with social hands;

  Or whispering like two reeds that in the cold moonbeam

  Bend with the breeze their heads, beside a crystal stream.

  XVII

  On a friendly deck reposing

  They at length for Venice steer;

  There, when they had closed their voyage

  One, who daily on the pier

  Watched for tidings from the East, beheld his Lord,

  Fell down and clasped his knees for joy, not uttering word.

  XVIII

  Mutual was the sudden transport;

  Breathless questions followed fast,

  Years contracting to a moment,

  Each word greedier than the last:

  “Hie thee to the Countess, friend! return with speed,

  And of this Stranger speak by whom her lord was freed.

  XIX

  Say that I, who might have languished,