Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

by William Wordsworth

EXTEMPORE EFFUSION UPON THE DEATH OF JAMES HOGG

  WHEN first, descending from the moorlands,

  I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide

  Along a bare and open valley,

  The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide.

  When last along its banks I wandered,

  Through groves that had begun to shed

  Their golden leaves upon the pathways,

  My steps the Border-minstrel led.

  The mighty Minstrel breathes no longer,

  ‘Mid mouldering ruins low he lies; 10

  And death upon the braes of Yarrow,

  Has closed the Shepherd-poet’s eyes:

  Nor has the rolling year twice measured,

  From sign to sign, its stedfast course,

  Since every mortal power of Coleridge

  Was frozen at its marvellous source;

  The rapt One, of the godlike forehead,

  The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth:

  And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle,

  Has vanished from his lonely hearth. 20

  Like clouds that rake the mountain-summits,

  Or waves that own no curbing hand,

  How fast has brother followed brother

  From sunshine to the sunless land!

  Yet I, whose lids from infant slumber

  Were earlier raised, remain to hear

  A timid voice, that asks in whispers,

  ‘Who next will drop and disappear?”

  Our haughty life is crowned with darkness,

  Like London with its own black wreath, 30

  On which with thee, O Crabbe! forth-looking,

  I gazed from Hampstead’s breezy heath.

  As if but yesterday departed,

  Thou too art gone before; but why,

  O’er ripe fruit, seasonably gathered,

  Should frail survivors heave a sigh?

  Mourn rather for that holy Spirit,

  Sweet as the spring, as ocean deep;

  For Her who, ere her summer faded,

  Has sunk into a breathless sleep. 40

  No more of old romantic sorrows,

  For slaughtered Youth or love-lorn Maid!

  With sharper grief is Yarrow smitten,

  And Ettrick mourns with her their Poet dead.

  Nov. 1835.

  UPON SEEING A COLOURED DRAWING OF THE BIRD OF PARADISE IN AN ALBUM

  WHO rashly strove thy Image to portray?

  Thou buoyant minion of the tropic air;

  How could he think of the live creature—gay

  With a divinity of colours, drest

  In all her brightness, from the dancing crest

  Far as the last gleam of the filmy train

  Extended and extending to sustain

  The motions that it graces—and forbear

  To drop his pencil! Flowers of every clime

  Depicted on these pages smile at time; 10

  And gorgeous insects copied with nice care

  Are here, and likenesses of many a shell

  Tossed ashore by restless waves,

  Or in the diver’s grasp fetched up from caves

  Where sea-nymphs might be proud to dwell:

  But whose rash hand (again I ask) could dare,

  ‘Mid casual tokens and promiscuous shows,

  To circumscribe this Shape in fixed repose;

  Could imitate for indolent survey,

  Perhaps for touch profane, 20

  Plumes that might catch, but cannot keep, a stain;

  And, with cloud-streaks lightest and loftiest, share

  The sun’s first greeting, his last farewell ray!

  Resplendent Wanderer! followed with glad eyes

  Where’er her course; mysterious Bird!

  To whom, by wondering Fancy stirred,

  Eastern Islanders have given

  A holy name—the Bird of Heaven!

  And even a title higher still,

  The Bird of God! whose blessed will 30

  She seems performing as she flies

  Over the earth and through the skies

  In never-wearied search of Paradise—

  Region that crowns her beauty with the name

  She bears for ‘us’—for us how blest,

  How happy at all seasons, could like aim

  Uphold our Spirits urged to kindred flight

  On wings that fear no glance of God’s pure sight,

  No tempest from his breath, their promised rest

  Seeking with indefatigable quest 40

  Above a world that deems itself most wise

  When most enslaved by gross realities!

  1835.

  COMPOSED AFTER READING A NEWSPAPER OF THE DAY

  “PEOPLE! your chains are severing link by link;

  Soon shall the Rich be levelled down—the Poor

  Meet them half way.” Vain boast! for These, the more

  They thus would rise, must low and lower sink

  Till, by repentance stung, they fear to think;

  While all lie prostrate, save the tyrant few

  Bent in quick turns each other to undo,

  And mix the poison, they themselves must drink.

  Mistrust thyself, vain Country! cease to cry,

  “Knowledge will save me from the threatened woe.” 10

  For, if than other rash ones more thou know,

  Yet on presumptuous wing as far would fly

  Above thy knowledge as they dared to go,

  Thou wilt provoke a heavier penalty.

  1835.

  BY A BLEST HUSBAND GUIDED, MARY CAME

  BY a blest Husband guided, Mary came

  From nearest kindred, Vernon her new name;

  She came, though meek of soul, in seemly pride

  Of happiness and hope, a youthful Bride.

  O dread reverse! if aught ‘be’ so, which proves

  That God will chasten whom he dearly loves.

  Faith bore her up through pains in mercy given,

  And troubles that were each a step to Heaven:

  Two Babes were laid in earth before she died;

  A third now slumbers at the Mother’s side; 10

  Its Sister-twin survives, whose smiles afford

  A trembling solace to her widowed Lord.

  Reader! if to thy bosom cling the pain

  Of recent sorrow combated in vain;

  Or if thy cherished grief have failed to thwart

  Time still intent on his insidious part,

  Lulling the mourner’s best good thoughts asleep,

  Pilfering regrets we would, but cannot, keep;

  Bear with Him—judge ‘Him’ gently who makes known

  His bitter loss by this memorial Stone; 20

  And pray that in his faithful breast the grace

  Of resignation find a hallowed place.

  1835.

  SONNETS

  DESPONDING FATHER! MARK THIS ALTERED BOUGH,

  DESPONDING Father! mark this altered bough,

  So beautiful of late, with sunshine warmed,

  Or moist with dews; what more unsightly now,

  Its blossoms shrivelled, and its fruit, if formed,

  Invisible? yet Spring her genial brow

  Knits not o’er that discolouring and decay

  As false to expectation. Nor fret thou

  At like unlovely process in the May

  Of human life: a Stripling’s graces blow,

  Fade and are shed, that from their timely fall 10

  (Misdeem it not a cankerous change) may grow

  Rich mellow bearings, that for thanks shall call:

  In all men, sinful is it to be slow

  To hope—in Parents, sinful above all.

  1835.

  ROMAN ANTIQUITIES DISCOVERED AT BISHOPSTONE, HEREFORDSHIRE

  WHILE poring Antiquarians search the ground

  Upturned with curious pains, the Bard, a Seer,

  Takes fire:—The men that have been reappear;

  Romans for travel
girt, for business gowned;

  And some recline on couches, myrtle-crowned,

  In festal glee: why not? For fresh and clear,

  As if its hues were of the passing year,

  Dawns this time-buried pavement. From that mound

  Hoards may come forth of Trajans, Maximins,

  Shrunk into coins with all their warlike toil: 10

  Or a fierce impress issues with its foil

  Of tenderness—the Wolf, whose suckling Twins

  The unlettered ploughboy pities when he wins

  The casual treasure from the furrowed soil.

  1835.

  ST. CATHERINE OF LEDBURY

  WHEN human touch (as monkish books attest)

  Nor was applied nor could be, Ledbury bells

  Broke forth in concert flung adown the dells,

  And upward, high as Malvern’s cloudy crest;

  Sweet tones, and caught by a noble Lady blest

  To rapture! Mabel listened at the side

  Of her loved mistress: soon the music died,

  And Catherine said, “Here I set up my rest.”

  Warned in a dream, the Wanderer long had sought

  A home that by such miracle of sound 10

  Must be revealed:—she heard it now, or felt

  The deep, deep joy of a confiding thought;

  And there, a saintly Anchoress, she dwelt

  Till she exchanged for heaven that happy ground.

  1835.

  WHY ART THOU SILENT! IS THY LOVE A PLANT

  WHY art thou silent! Is thy love a plant

  Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air

  Of absence withers what was once so fair?

  Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?

  Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant—

  Bound to thy service with unceasing care,

  The mind’s least generous wish a mendicant

  For nought but what thy happiness could spare.

  Speak—though this soft warm heart, once free to hold

  A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, 10

  Be left more desolate, more dreary cold

  Than a forsaken bird’s-nest filled with snow

  ‘Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine—

  Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know!

  1835.

  FOUR FIERY STEEDS IMPATIENT OF THE REIN

  FOUR fiery steeds impatient of the rein

  Whirled us o’er sunless ground beneath a sky

  As void of sunshine, when, from that wide plain,

  Clear tops of far-off mountains we descry,

  Like a Sierra of cerulean Spain,

  All light and lustre. Did no heart reply;

  Yes, there was One;—for One, asunder fly

  The thousand links of that ethereal chain;

  And green vales open out, with grove and field,

  And the fair front of many a happy Home; 10

  Such tempting spots as into vision come

  While Soldiers, weary of the arms they wield

  And sick at heart of strifeful Christendom,

  Gaze on the moon by parting clouds revealed.

  1835.

  TO ——

  “Miss not the occasion: by the forelock take

  That subtile Power, the never-halting Time,

  Lest a mere moment’s putting-off should make

  Mischance almost as heavy as a crime.”

  “WAIT, prithee, wait!” this answer Lesbia threw

  Forth to her Dove, and took no further heed;

  Her eye was busy, while her fingers flew

  Across the harp, with soul-engrossing speed;

  But from that bondage when her thoughts were freed

  She rose, and toward the close-shut casement drew,

  Whence the poor unregarded Favourite, true

  To old affections, had been heard to plead

  With flapping wing for entrance. What a shriek!

  Forced from that voice so lately tuned to a strain 10

  Of harmony!—a shriek of terror, pain,

  And self-reproach! for, from aloft, a Kite

  Pounced,—and the Dove, which from its ruthless beak

  She could not rescue, perished in her sight!

  1835.

  SAID SECRECY TO COWARDICE AND FRAUD,

  SAID Secrecy to Cowardice and Fraud,

  Falsehood and Treachery, in close council met,

  Deep under ground, in Pluto’s cabinet,

  “The frost of England’s pride will soon be thawed;

  “Hooded the open brow that overawed

  “Our schemes; the faith and honour, never yet

  “By us with hope encountered, be upset;—

  “For once I burst my bands, and cry, applaud!”

  Then whispered she, “The Bill is carrying out!”

  They heard, and, starting up, the Brood of Night 10

  Clapped hands, and shook with glee their matted locks;

  All Powers and Places that abhor the light

  Joined in the transport, echoed back their shout,

  Hurrah for —, hugging his Ballot-box!

  1835.

  NOVEMBER 1836

  EVEN so for me a Vision sanctified

  The sway of Death; long ere mine eyes had seen

  Thy countenance—the still rapture of thy mien—

  When thou, dear Sister! wert become Death’s Bride:

  No trace of pain or languor could abide

  That change:—age on thy brow was smoothed—thy cold

  Wan cheek at once was privileged to unfold

  A loveliness to living youth denied.

  Oh! if within me hope should e’er decline,

  The lamp of faith, lost Friend! too faintly burn; 10

  Then may that heaven-revealing smile of thine,

  The bright assurance, visibly return:

  And let my spirit in that power divine

  Rejoice, as, through that power, it ceased to mourn.

  SIX MONTHS TO SIX YEARS ADDED HE REMAINED

  SIX months to six years added he remained

  Upon this sinful earth, by sin unstained:

  O blessed Lord! whose mercy then removed

  A Child whom every eye that looked on loved;

  Support us, teach us calmly to resign

  What we possessed, and now is wholly thine!

  1836.

  MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN ITALY, 1837. TO HENRY CRABB ROBINSON

  COMPANION! by whose buoyant Spirit cheered,

  In whose experience trusting, day by day

  Treasures I gained with zeal that neither feared

  The toils nor felt the crosses of the way,

  These records take, and happy should I be

  Were but the Gift a meet Return to thee

  For kindnesses that never ceased to flow,

  And prompt self-sacrifice to which I owe

  Far more than any heart but mine can know.

  W. WORDSWORTH.

  RYDAL MOUNT, Feb. 14th, 1842.

  MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN ITALY, 1837. I. MUSINGS NEAR AQUAPENDENTE, APRIL 1837

  YE Apennines! with all your fertile vales

  Deeply embosomed, and your winding shores

  Of either sea—an Islander by birth,

  A Mountaineer by habit, would resound

  Your praise, in meet accordance with your claims

  Bestowed by Nature, or from man’s great deeds

  Inherited:—presumptuous thought!—it fled

  Like vapour, like a towering cloud, dissolved.

  Not, therefore, shall my mind give way to sadness;—

  Yon snow-white torrent-fall, plumb down it drops 10

  Yet ever hangs or seems to hang in air,

  Lulling the leisure of that high perched town,

  AQUAPENDENTE, in her lofty site

  Its neighbour and its namesake—town, and flood

  Forth flashing out of its own gloomy chasm

 
; Bright sunbeams—the fresh verdure of this lawn

  Strewn with grey rocks, and on the horizon’s verge,

  O’er intervenient waste, through glimmering haze,

  Unquestionably kenned, that cone-shaped hill

  With fractured summit, no indifferent sight 20

  To travellers, from such comforts as are thine,

  Bleak Radicofani! escaped with joy—

  These are before me; and the varied scene

  May well suffice, till noon-tide’s sultry heat

  Relax, to fix and satisfy the mind

  Passive yet pleased. What! with this Broom in flower

  Close at my side! She bids me fly to greet

  Her sisters, soon like her to be attired

  With golden blossoms opening at the feet

  Of my own Fairfield. The glad greeting given, 30

  Given with a voice and by a look returned

  Of old companionship, Time counts not minutes

  Ere, from accustomed paths, familiar fields,

  The local Genius hurries me aloft,

  Transported over that cloud-wooing hill,

  Seat Sandal, a fond suitor of the clouds,

  With dream-like smoothness, to Helvellyn’s top,

  There to alight upon crisp moss and range,

  Obtaining ampler boon, at every step,

  Of visual sovereignty—hills multitudinous, 40

  (Not Apennine can boast of fairer) hills

  Pride of two nations, wood and lake and plains,

  And prospect right below of deep coves shaped

  By skeleton arms, that, from the mountain’s trunk

  Extended, clasp the winds, with mutual moan

  Struggling for liberty, while undismayed

  The shepherd struggles with them. Onward thence

  And downward by the skirt of Greenside fell,

  And by Glenridding-screes, and low Glencoign,

  Places forsaken now, though loving still 50

  The muses, as they loved them in the days

  Of the old minstrels and the border bards.—

  But here am I fast bound; and let it pass,

  The simple rapture;—who that travels far

  To feed his mind with watchful eyes could share

  Or wish to share it?—One there surely was,

  “The Wizard of the North,” with anxious hope

  Brought to this genial climate, when disease

  Preyed upon body and mind—yet not the less