poems in two volumes vol 2 william wordsworth

8/12/2019 Poems in Two Volumes Vol 2 William Wordsworth

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3=T?+ ?) DTE


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To the %ais!To the same )lowerIncident, characteristic of a fa$ourite %og,which belonged to a )riend of the 3uthorTribute to the Cemor! of the same %ogD

D-onnet

-onnet-onnet-onnet to Thomas "larkson?nce in a lonel! amlet, Hc)oresight, or the "harge of a "hild to his!ounger "om#anion3 "om#laintI am not ?ne, Hc'es1 full surel! Ftwas the Echo, HcTo the -#ade of a )riend-ong, at the )east of Brougham "astle


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-aid generous +ob, &What need of BooksK Burn all the -tatutes and their shel$es2 The! stir us u# against our indJ 3nd worse, against ?ursel$es.&

&We ha$e a #assion, make a law, Too false to guide us or controul1

3nd for the law itself we fight In bitterness of soul.&

&3nd, #uled, blinded thus, we lose %istinctions that are #lain and few2 ;4 These find I gra$en on m! heart2 DThatD tells me what to do.&

&The "reatures see of flood and field, 3nd those that tra$el on the wind1 With them no strife can lastJ the! li$e

In #eace, and #eace of mind.&

&)or wh!K>>because the good old +ule -ufficeth them, the sim#le Plan, That the! should take who ha$e the #ower, 3nd the! should kee# who can.& 94

&3 lesson which is uickl! learnFd, 3 signal this which all can see1 Thus nothing here #ro$okes the -trong To wanton cruelt!.&

&3ll freakishness of mind is checkFdJ e tamFd, who foolishl! as#iresJ While to the measure of his might Each fashions his desires.&

&3ll inds, and "reatures, stand and fall B! strength of #rowess or of wit2 54 Tis GodFs a##ointment who must swa!, 3nd who is to submit.&

&-ince then,& said +obin, &right is #lain, 3nd longest life is but a da!J

To ha$e m! ends, maintain m! rights, IFll take the shortest wa!.&

3nd thus among these rocks he li$Fd, Through summerFs heat and winterFs snow2 The Eagle, he was DwouldD, at least, ha$e been But through untowardness of fate2 )or Polit! was then too strongJ e came an age too late,

?r shall we sa! an age too soonK )or, were the bold Can li$ing DnowD, ow might he flourish in his #ride,


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With buds on e$er! bough1

Then rents and )actors, rights of chace, -heriffs, and > WeFll shew that we can hel# to frame 3 world of other stuff.&

&I, too, will ha$e m! ings that take )rom me the sign of life and death2 /4 ingdoms shall shift about, like clouds, ?bedient to m! breath.&

3nd, if the word had been fulfillFd, 3s DmightD ha$e been, then, thought of jo!1 )rance would ha$e had her #resent BoastJ 3nd we our bra$e +ob +o!1

?h1 sa! not soJ com#are them notJ I would not wrong thee, "ham#ion bra$e1 Would wrong thee no whereJ least of all ere standing b! th! Gra$e. 44

)or Thou, although with some wild thoughts,

Wild "hieftain of a -a$age "lan1 adst this to boast ofJ thou didst lo$e The Dlibert!D of Can.

3nd, had it been th! lot to li$e With us who now behold the light, Thou wouldFst ha$e nobl! stirrFd th!self, 3nd battled for the +ight.

)or +obin was the #oor CanFs sta! The #oor manFs heart, the #oor manFs handJ 4 3nd all the o##ressFd, who wanted strength,

ad +obinFs to command.

Bear witness man! a #ensi$e sigh ?f thoughtful erdsman when he stra!s


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3lone u#on


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been hos#itabl! entertained some weeks before, we met, in one of the loneliest #arts of that solitar! region, two well dressed Women, one of whom said to us, b! wa! of greeting, &What !ou are ste##ing westwardK&

D&What !ou are ste##ing westwardK&>>&'eaD.&

>>FTwould be a wildish destin!, If we, who thus together roam In a strange


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%oes then the Bard slee# here indeedK ?r is it but a groundless creedK What matters itK I blame them not Whose )anc! in this lonel! -#ot 4 Was mo$edJ and in this wa! e*#ressFd Their notion of itFs #erfect rest. 3 "on$ent, e$en a hermitFs "ell

Would break the silence of this %ell2 It is not uiet, is not easeJ But something dee#er far than these2 The se#aration that is here Is of the gra$eJ and of austere 3nd ha##! feelings of the dead2 3nd, therefore, was it rightl! said ;4 That ?ssian, last of all his race1 But dance1 for under @edborough Tower There li$eth in the #rime of glee, 3 Woman, whose !ears are se$ent!>three, 4 3nd -he will dance and sing with thee1

Aa!1 start not at that )igure>>there1 im who is rooted to his chair1 >look again1 for e

ath long been of th! )amil!. With legs that mo$e not, if the! can, 3nd useless arms, a Trunk of Can, e sits, and with a $acant e!eJ 3 -ight to make a -tranger sigh1 %eaf, droo#ing, that is now his doom2 4 is world is in this single room2 Is this a #lace for mirth and cheerK "an merr!>making enter hereK

The jo!ous Woman is the Cate ?f im in that forlorn estate1

e breathes a subterraneous dam#, But bright as Ves#er shines her lam#2 e is as mute as @edborough TowerJ -he jocund as it was of !ore,


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With all itFs bra$er! onJ in times, ;4 When, all ali$e with merr! chimes, =#on a sun>bright morn of Ca!, It rouFd the Vale to olida!.

I #raise thee, Catron1 and th! due Is #raiseJ heroic #raise, and true1

With admiration I behold Th! gladness unsubdued and bold2 Th! looks, th! gestures, all #resent The #icture of a life well>s#ent2 This do I seeJ and something moreJ 94 3 strength unthought of heretofore1 %elighted am I for th! sakeJ 3nd !et a higher jo! #artake. ?ur uman>nature throws awa! ItFs second Twilight, and looks ga!2 3


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. DT? 3 IG


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Beside thee in some heath! dellJ 3do#t !our homel! wa!s and dress, 3 -he#herd, thou a -he#herdess1 54 But I could frame a wish for thee Core like a gra$e realit!2 Thou art to me but as a wa$e ?f the wild seaJ and I would ha$e

-ome claim u#on thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood. What jo! to hear thee, and to see1 Th! elder Brother I would be, Th! )ather, an! thing to thee1

Aow thanks to ea$en1 that of its grace 4 ath led me to this lonel! #lace. @o! ha$e I hadJ and going hence I bear awa! m! recom#ence. In s#ots like these it is we #rie ?ur Cemor!, feel that she hath e!es2

Then, wh! should I be loth to stirK I feel this #lace was made for herJ To gi$e new #leasure like the #ast, "ontinued long as life shall last. Aor am I loth, though #leased at heart, 04 -weet ighland Girl1 from Thee to #artJ )or I, methinks, till I grow old, 3s fair before me shall behold, 3s I do now, the "abin small, The


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'e now are #anting u# lifeFs hill1 FTis twilight time of good and ill, 3nd more than common strength and skill Cust !e dis#la! If !e would gi$e the better will

Its lawful swa!.

-trong bodied if !e be to bear Intem#erance with less harm, beware1 But if !our )atherFs wit !e share, Then, then indeed, 4 'e -ons of Burns1 for watchful care There will be need.

)or honest men delight will take To shew !ou fa$or for his sake, Will flatter !ouJ and )ool and +ake

'our ste#s #ursue2 3nd of !our )atherFs name will make 3 snare for !ou.


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Aor turn aside to 'arrow.&

&ThereFs Galla Water, >-trange words the! seemFd of slight and scornJ C! True>lo$e sighFd for sorrowJ ;4 3nd lookFd me in the face, to think I thus could s#eak of 'arrow1

&?h1 green,& said I, &are 'arrowFs olms, 3nd sweet is 'arrow flowing1 )air hangs the a##le frae the rock 6:, But we will lea$e it growing. ?Fer hill! #ath, and o#en -trath, WeFll wander -cotland thoroughJ But, though so near, we will not turn Into the %ale of 'arrow.& 94

6)ootnote 2 -ee amiltonFs Ballad as abo$e.:

&bred ine #artake The sweets of Burn>mill meadowJ The -wan on still -t. Car!Fs


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C??%- ?) C' ?WA CIA%.

. DT? 3 B=TTE+)


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;.

? Aightingale1 thou surel! art 3 "reature of a fier! heart>> These notes of thine the! #ierce, and #ierceJ

Tumultuous harmon! and fierce1 Thou singFst as if the God of wine ad hel#Fd thee to a ValentineJ 3 song in mocker! and des#ite ?f shades, and dews, and silent Aight, 3nd stead! bliss, and all the


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Their heads ne$er raisingJ There are fort! feeding like one1 4 bo! is whoo#ing>>anon>>anon2

ThereFs jo! in the mountainsJ ThereFs life in the fountainsJ -mall clouds are sailing, Blue sk! #re$ailingJ The rain is o$er and gone1 4

. DTE -C3


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I wandered lonel! as a "loud That floats on high oFer Vales and ills, When all at once I saw a crowd 3 host of dancing %affodillsJ 3long the > 3 Poet could not but be ga! In such a laughing com#an!2 4 I gaFd>>and gaFd>>but little thought What wealth the shew to me had brought2

)or oft when on m! couch I lie In $acant or in #ensi$e mood, The! flash u#on that inward e!e Which is the bliss of solitude, 3nd then m! heart with #leasure fills,

3nd dances with the %affodils.

8.

Who fancied what a #rett! sight This +ock would be if edged around With li$ing -nowdro#sK circlet bright1

ow glorious to this ?rchard ground1 Who lo$ed the little +ock, and set =#on its ead this "oronetK

Was it the humour of a "hildK ?r rather of some lo$e>sick Caid, Whose brows, the da! that she was st!led The -he#herd Nueen, were thus arra!edK ?f Can mature, or Catron sageK ?r old Can to!ing with his ageK

I askFd>>Ftwas whis#erFd, The de$ice

To each or all might well belong. It is the -#irit of Paradise That #rom#ts such work, a -#irit strong, That gi$es to all the self>same bent Where life is wise and innocent.

/. DTE -P3++?WF- AE-TD.


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Core #leasing than that sim#le sight1 I started seeming to es#! The home and shelterFd bed, The -#arrowFs dwelling, which, hard b! C! )atherFs ouse, in wet or dr!, C! -ister Emmeline and I Together $isited. 4

-he lookFd at it as if she fearFd itJ -till wishing, dreading to be near it2 -uch heart was in her, being then 3 little Prattler among men. The Blessing of m! later !ears Was with me when a Bo!J -he ga$e me e!es, she ga$e me earsJ 3nd humble cares, and delicate fearsJ 3 heart, the fountain of sweet tearsJ 3nd lo$e, and thought, and jo!. 4

4. DGIP-IE-D.

'et are the! hereK>>the same unbroken knot ?f human Beings, in the self>same s#ot1 Cen, Women, "hildren, !ea the frame ?f the whole -#ectacle the same1 ?nl! their fire seems bolder, !ielding light2 Aow dee# and red, the colouring of nightJ

That on their Gi#s!>faces falls, Their bed of straw and blanket>walls. >>Twel$e hours, twel$e bounteous hours, are gone while I a$e been a Tra$eller under o#en sk!, 4 Cuch witnessing of change and chear, 'et as I left I find them here1

The wear! -un betook himself to rest. >>Then issued Ves#er from the fulgent West, ?utshining like a $isible God The glorious #ath in which he trod. 3nd now, ascending, after one dark hour,

3nd one nightFs diminution of her #ower, Behold the might! Coon1 this wa! -he looks as if at them>>but the! 4 +egard not her2>>oh better wrong and strife, Better $ain deeds or e$il than such life1 The silent ea$ens ha$e goings onJ The stars ha$e tasks>>but these ha$e none.

. DT? TE "="??D.

? blithe Aew>comer1 I ha$e heard,


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3nd rest as in a sanctuar!1 "ome often to us, fear no wrongJ -it near us on the bough1 WeFll talk of sunshine and of songJ 3nd summer da!s, when we were !oung, -weet childish da!s, that were as long 3s twent! da!s are now1

;.

It is no -#irit who from ea$en hath flown, 3nd is descending on his embass!J Aor Tra$eller gone from Earth the ea$ens to es#!1 FTis es#erus>>there he stands with glittering crown,

)irst admonition that the sun is down1 )or !et it is broad da!>light2 clouds #ass b!J 3 few are near him still>>and now the sk!, e hath it to himself>>Ftis all his own. ? most ambitious -tar1 an inuest wrought Within me when I recognised th! lightJ 3 moment I was startled at the sight2 3nd, while I gaed, there came to me a thought That I might ste# be!ond m! natural race 3s thou seemFst now to doJ might one da! trace -ome ground not mineJ and, strong her strength abo$e, C! -oul, an 3##arition in the #lace,

Tread there, with ste#s that no one shall re#ro$e1

TE Bside.M

Aow we are tired of boisterous jo!, WeF$e rom#Fd enough, m! little Bo!1 @ane hangs her head u#on m! breast, 3nd !ou shall bring !our -tool and rest, This corner is !our own.

There1 take !our seat, and let me see That !ou can listen uietl!J 3nd as I #romised I will tell

That strange ad$enture which befel 3 #oor blind ighland Bo!. 4

3 DighlandD Bo!1>>wh! call him soK


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Because, m! %arlings, !e must know, In land where man! a mountain towers, )ar higher hills than these of ours1 e from his birth had li$Fd.

e neFer had seen one earthl! sightJ The sun, the da!J the stars, the nightJ

?r tree, or butterfl!, or flower, ?r fish in stream, or bird in bower, ?r woman, man, or child. 4

3nd !et he neither droo#ed nor #ined, Aor had a melanchol! mindJ )or God took #it! on the Bo!, 3nd was his friendJ and ga$e him jo! ?f which we nothing know.

is Cother, too, no doubt, abo$e er other "hildren him did lo$e2

)or, was she here, or was she there, -he thought of him with constant care, 3nd more than CotherFs lo$e. ;4

3nd #roud she was of heart, when clad In crimson stockings, tartan #laid, 3nd bonnet with a feather ga!, To irk he on the sabbath da! Went hand in hand with her.

3 %og, too, had heJ not for need, But one to #la! with and to feedJ

Which would ha$e led him, if bereft ?f com#an! or friends, and left Without a better guide. 94

3nd then the bag#i#es he could blowJ 3nd thus from house to house would go, 3nd all were #leasFd to hear and seeJ )or none made sweeter melod! Than did the #oor blind Bo!.

'et he had man! a restless dreamJ Both when he heard the Eagles scream,

3nd when he heard the torrents roar, 3nd heard the water beat the shore Aear which their "ottage stood. 54

Beside a lake their "ottage stood, Aot small like ours, a #eaceful floodJ But one of might! sie, and strangeJ That, rough or smooth, is full of change, 3nd stirring in its bed.

)or to this water finds its wa!

Through long, long windings of the hillsJ 3nd drinks u# all the #rett! rills 3nd ri$ers large and strong2 4


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Then hurries back the road it came>> +eturns, on errand still the sameJ This did it when the earth was newJ 3nd this for e$ermore will do, 3s long as earth shall last.

3nd, with the coming of the Tide,

"ome Boats and -hi#s, that sweetl! ride, Between the woods and loft! rocksJ 3nd to the -he#herds with their )locks Bring tales of distant hi$e would be shi# as safe 3s that in which he sails. 4


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3nd guesses their intent. 4

&Dgha>>ghaD&>>then did he cr! &Dgha>>ghaD&>>most eagerl!J Thus did he cr!, and thus did #ra!, 3nd what he meant was, &ee# awa!, 3nd lea$e me to m!self1&

3las1 and when he felt their hands>> 'ouF$e often heard of magic Wands, That with a motion o$erthrow 3 #alace of the #roudest shew, ?r melt it into air. 04

-o all his dreams, that inward light With which his soul had shone so bright, 3ll $anishFdJ>>Ftwas a heartfelt cross To him, a hea$!, bitter loss, 3s he had e$er known.

But hark1 a gratulating $oice With which the $er! hills rejoice2 FTis from the crowd, who tremblingl! ad watchFd the e$ent, and now can see That he is safe at last. 84

3nd then, when he was brought to land, )ull sure the! were a ha##! band, Which gathering round did on the banks ?f that great Water gi$e God thanks, 3nd welcomFd the #oor "hild.

3nd in the general jo! of heart The blind Bo!Fs little %og took #artJ e lea#t about, and oft did kiss is masterFs hands in sign of bliss, With sound like lamentation. /4

But most of all, his Cother dear, -he who had fainted with her fear, +ejoiced when waking she es#ies The "hildJ when she can trust her e!es, 3nd touches the blind Bo!.

-he led him home, and we#t amain, When he was in the house again2 Tears flowFd in torrents from her e!es, -he could not blame him, or chastise2 -he was too ha##! far. 44

Thus, after he had fondl! bra$ed The #erilous %ee#, the Bo! was sa$edJ 3nd, though his fancies had been wild, 'et he was #leased, and reconciled To li$e in #eace on shore.


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DTE G+EEA >how sweet To sit u#on m! ?rchard>seat1 3nd Birds and )lowers once more to greet,

C! last !earFs )riends together2 C! thoughts the! all b! turns em#lo!J 3 whis#ering


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>>There is a nest in a green dale, 3 harbour and a hold, Where thou a Wife and )riend, shalt see Th! own delightful da!s, and be 3 light to !oung and old.

There, health! as a -he#herd>bo!,

3s if th! heritage were jo!, 3nd #leasure were th! trade, Thou, while th! Babes around thee cling, -halt shew us how di$ine a thing 3 Woman ma! be made.

Th! thoughts and feelings shall not die, Aor lea$e thee, when gre! hairs are nigh, 3 melanchol! sla$e But an old age, ali$e and bright, 3nd lo$el! as a >DPleasure is s#read through the earth In stra! gifts to be claimFd b! whoe$er shall findD.&

( ( ( ( (

B! their floating Cill, Which lies dead and still, Behold !on Prisoners three1

The Ciller with two %ames, on the breast of the ThamesJ The Platform is small, but thereFs room for them allJ 3nd the!Fre dancing merril!.

)rom the shore come the notes To their Cill where it floats, To their ouse and their Cill tetherFd fastJ To the small wooden isle where their work to beguile 4 The! from morning to e$en take whate$er is gi$enJ>> 3nd man! a blithe da! the! ha$e #ast.

In sight of the -#ires

3ll ali$e with the fires ?f the -un going down to his rest, In the broad o#en e!e of the solitar! sk!, The! dance,>>there are three, as jocund as free, While the! dance on the calm ri$erFs breast.

Can and Caidens wheel, The! themsel$es make the +eel, 4 3nd their CusicFs a #re! which the! seieJ It #la!s not for them,>>what matter1 Ftis theirFsJ 3nd if the! had care it has scattered their cares, While the! dance, cr!ing, &


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In stra! gifts to be claimFd b! whoe$er shall findJ Thus a rich lo$ing>kindness, redundantl! kind, Co$es all nature to gladness and mirth. ;4

The -howers of the -#ring +oue the Birds and the! singJ If the Wind do but stir for his #ro#er delight,

Each man chuses well his #lace, Ftis >what an insight must it be1

'et, -how>man, where can lie the causeK -hall th! Im#lement ha$e blame, 3 Boaster, that when he is tried, fails, and is #ut to shameK 4

?r is it good as others are, and be their e!es in faultK Their e!es, or mindsK or, finall!, is this res#lendent VaultK

Is nothing of that radiant #om# so good as we ha$e hereK ?r gi$es a thing but small delight that ne$er can be dearK The sil$er Coon with all her Vales, and ills of mightiest fame, %o the! betra! us when the!Fre seenK and are the! but a nameK

?r is it rather that "onceit ra#acious is and strong, 3nd bount! ne$er !ields so much but it seems to do her wrongK ?r is it, that when human -ouls a journe! long ha$e had, 3nd are returned into themsel$es, the! cannot but be sadK 4

?r must we be constrainFd to think that these -#ectators rude, Poor in estate, of manners base, men of the multitude, a$e souls which ne$er !et ha$e risFn, and therefore #rostrate lieK Ao, no, this cannot be>>Cen thirst for #ower and majest!1

%oes, then, a dee# and earnest thought the blissful mind em#lo! ?f him who gaes, or has gaedK a gra$e and stead! jo!, That doth reject all shew of #ride, admits no outward sign, Because not of this nois! world, but silent and di$ine1

Whate$er be the cause, Ftis sure that the! who #r! H #ore

-eem to meet with little gain, seem less ha##! than before2 ;4 ?ne after ?ne the! take their turns, nor ha$e I one es#ied That doth not slackl! go awa!, as if dissatisfied.


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DP?WE+ ?) C=-I"D.

3n ?r#heus1 3n ?r#heus1>>!es, )aith ma! grow bold, 3nd take to herself all the wonders of oldJ>> Aear the statel! Pantheon !ouFll meet with the same, In the street that from ?*ford hath borrowed its name.

is station is thereJ>>and he works on the crowd, e swa!s them with harmon! merr! and loudJ e fills with his #ower all their hearts to the brim>> Was aught e$er heard like his fiddle and him1

What an eager assembl!1 what an em#ire is this1

The wear! ha$e life and the hungr! ha$e blissJ 4 The mourner is cheared, and the an*ious ha$e restJ 3nd the guilt>burthened -oul is no longer o##rest.

3s the Coon brightens round her the clouds of the night, -o he where he stands is a center of lightJ It gleams on the face, there, of dusk!>faced @ack, 3nd the #ale>$isaged BakerFs, with basket on back.

That errand>bound FPrentice was #assing in haste>> What matter1 heFs caught>>and his time runs to waste>> The Aews>man is sto##ed, though he sto#s on the fret,

3nd the half>breathless lighter heFs in the net1 4

The Porter sits down on the weight which he boreJ The > If a Thief could be here he might #ilfer at easeJ -he sees the Cusician, Ftis all that she sees1

e stands, backFd b! the WallJ>>he abates not his dinJ is hat gi$es him $igour, with boons dro##ing in, )rom the ?ld and the 'oung, from the PoorestJ and there1 The one>#ennied Bo! has his #enn! to s#are.

? blest are the earers and #roud be the and ?f the #leasure it s#reads through so thankful a BandJ ;4 I am glad for him, blind as he is1>>all the while If the! s#eak Ftis to #raise, and the! #raise with a smile.

That tall Can, a Giant in bulk and in height, Aot an inch of his bod! is free from delightJ "an he kee# himself still, if he wouldK oh, not he1 The music stirs in him like wind through a tree.

ThereFs a "ri##le who leans on his "rutchJ like a Tower That long has leanFd forward, leans hour after hour1>>

Cother, whose -#irit in fetters is bound, While she dandles the babe in her arms to the sound. 94

Aow, "oaches and "hariots, roar on like a streamJ


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ere are twent! souls ha##! as -ouls in a dream2 The! are deaf to !our murmurs>>the! care not for !ou, Aor what !e are fl!ing, or what !e #ursue1

DT? TE %3I-'D. The two following Poems were o$erflowings of the mind in com#osing the one which stands first in the first Volume.

With little here to do or see ?f things that in the great world be, -weet %ais!1 oft I talk to thee, )or thou art worth!, Thou unassuming "ommon>#lace ?f Aature, with that homel! face,

3nd !et with something of a grace, Which >and instantl! The freak is o$er, The sha#e will $anish, and behold1 3 sil$er -hield with boss of gold, ;4 That s#reads itself, some )aer! bold In fight to co$er.

I see thee glittering from afarJ>> 3nd then thou art a #rett! -tar, Aot uite so fair as man! are

In hea$en abo$e thee1 'et, like a star, with glittering crest, -elf>#oised in air thou seemFst to restJ>> Ca! #eace come ne$er to his nest,


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Who shall re#ro$e thee1 94

-weet )lower1 for b! that name at last, When all m! re$eries are #ast, I call thee, and to that clea$e fast, -weet silent "reature1 That breathFst with me in sun and air,

%o thou, as thou art wont, re#air C! heart with gladness, and a share ?f th! meek nature1

DT? TE -3CE )


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I #ra!Fd for thee, and that th! end were #astJ 3nd willingl! ha$e laid thee here at last2 )or thou hadst li$Fd, till e$er! thing that chears In thee had !ielded to the weight of !earsJ E*treme old age had wasted thee awa!, 3nd left thee but a glimmering of the da!J

Th! ears were deafJ and feeble were th! knees,>> saw thee stagger in the summer breee, 4 Too weak to stand against its s#orti$e breath, 3nd read! for the gentlest stroke of death. It came, and we were gladJ !et tears were shedJ Both Can and Woman we#t when Thou wert deadJ Aot onl! for a thousand thoughts that were, ?ld household thoughts, in which thou hadst th! shareJ But for some #recious boons $ouchsafed to thee, )ound scarcel! an! where in like degree1

)or lo$e, that comes to allJ the hol! sense,

Best gift of God, in thee was most intenseJ ;4 3 chain of heart, a feeling of the mind, 3 tender s!m#ath!, which did thee bind Aot onl! to us Cen, but to th! ind2 'ea, for th! )ellow>brutes in thee we saw The soul of ence, if we we#t, it was not done in shameJ ?ur tears from #assion and from reason came, 3nd, therefore, shalt thou be an honoured name1

D-?AAETD.

3%C?AITI?A, LIntended more #articularl! for the Perusal of those who ma! ha$e ha##ened to be enamoured of some beautiful Place of +etreat, in the "ountr! of the


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D-?AAETD.

... &Dgi$es to air! nothing 3 local habitation and a nameD.&

Though narrow be that ?ld CanFs cares, and near The #oor ?ld Can is greater than he seems2 )or he hath waking em#ire, wide as dreamsJ 3n am#le so$ereignt! of e!e and ear. +ich are his walks with su#ernatural chearJ The region of his inner s#irit teems With $ital sounds, and monitor! gleams ?f high astonishment and #leasing fear. e the se$en birds hath seen that ne$er #art, -een the -EVEA WI-T> )or o$erhead are swee#ing G3B+IE


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ow toilsome, na! how dire it was, b! Thee Is known,>>b! none, #erha#s, so feelingl!J But Thou, who, starting in th! fer$ent #rime, %idst first lead forth this #ilgrimage sublime, ast heard the constant Voice its charge re#eat, Which, out of th! !oung heartFs oracular seat, )irst roused thee.>>? true !oke>fellow of Time

With unabating effort, see, the #alm Is won, and b! all Aations shall be worn1 The blood! Writing is for e$er torn, 3nd Thou henceforth shalt ha$e a good CanFs calm, 3 great CanFs ha##inessJ th! eal shall find +e#ose at length, firm )riend of human kind1

( ( ( ( (

?nce in a lonel! amlet I sojournFd In which a field2 4

Th! little -ister is at #la!J>> What warmth, what comfort would it !ield To m! #oor heart, if Thou wouldst be ?ne little hour a child to me1&

&3cross the waters I am come, 3nd I ha$e left a Babe at home2 3 long, long wa! of land and sea1 "ome to me>>IFm no enem!2 I am the same who at th! side -ate !esterda!, and made a nest ;4 )or thee, sweet Bab!1>>thou hast tried.

Thou knowFst, the #illow of m! breast2 Good, good art thouJ alas1 to me )ar more than I can be to thee.&


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&ere little %arling dost thou lieJ 3n Infant Thou, a Cother I1 Cine wilt thou be, thou hast no fearsJ Cine art thou>>s#ite of these m! tears. 3las1 before I left the s#ot, C! Bab! and its dwelling>#laceJ 94 The Aurse said to me, FTears should not

Be shed u#on an InfantFs face, It was unluck!F>>no, no, noJ Ao truth is in them who sa! so1&

&C! own dear one will sigh, -weet Babe1 and the! will let him die. Fe #ines,F the!Fll sa!, Fit is his doom, 3nd !ou ma! see his hour is come.F ?h1 had he but th! chearful smiles, >and then I should behold his face again1&

&FTis gone>>forgotten>>let me do C! best>>there was a smile or two, I can remember them, I see The smiles, worth all the world to me. %ear Bab!1 I must la! thee downJ Thou troublest me with strange alarmsJ 4 -miles hast Thou, sweet ones of th! ownJ I cannot kee# thee in m! arms, )or the! confound me2 as it is,

I ha$e forgot those smiles of his.&

&?h1 how I lo$e thee1 we will sta! Together here this one half da!. C! -isterFs "hild, who bears m! name, )rom )rance across the ?cean cameJ -he with her Cother crossFd the seaJ The Babe and Cother near me dwell2 04 C! %arling, she is not to me What thou art1 though I lo$e her well2 +est, little -tranger, rest thee hereJ Ae$er was an! "hild more dear1&

&>>I cannot hel# it>>ill intent IF$e none, m! #rett! Innocent1 I wee#>>I know the! do thee wrong, These tears>>and m! #oor idle tongue. ?h what a kiss was that1 m! cheek ow cold it is1 but thou art goodJ 84 Thine e!es are on me>>the! would s#eak, I think, to hel# me if the! could. Blessings u#on that uiet face, C! heart again is in its #lace1&

&While thou art mine, m! little


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ereFs grass to #la! with, here are flowersJ IFll call thee b! m! %arlingFs nameJ /4 Thou hast, I think, a look of ours, Th! features seem to me the sameJ is little -ister thou shalt beJ 3nd, when once more m! home I see, IFll tell him man! tales of Thee.&

D)?+E-IGTD. ?r the "harge of a "hild to his !ounger "om#anion.

That is work which I am rueing>> %o as "harles and I are doing1 -trawberr!>blossoms, one and all,

We must s#are them>>here are man!2 >the )lower is small, -mall and low, though fair as an!2 %o not touch it1 summers two I am older, 3nne, than !ou.

Pull the Primrose, -ister 3nne1 Pull as man! as !ou can. 4 >>ere are %aisies, take !our fillJ Pansies, and the "uckow>flower2 ?f the loft! %affodil Cake !our bed, and make !our bowerJ

)ill !our la#, and fill !our bosomJ ?nl! s#are the -trawberr!>blossom1

Primroses, the -#ring ma! lo$e them>> -ummer knows but little of them2 Violets, do what the! will, WitherFd on the ground must lieJ 4 %aisies will be daisies stillJ %aisies the! must li$e and die2 )ill !our la#, and fill !our bosom, ?nl! s#are the -trawberr!>blossom1

D3 "?CP>and I am #oorJ 'our


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Aow, for this consecrated )ount ?f murmuring, s#arkling, li$ing lo$e, What ha$e IK shall I dare to tellK 3 comfortless, and hidden WEit ma! be dee#>> I trust it is, and ne$er dr!2

What matterK if the Waters slee# In silence and obscurit!. >>-uch change, and at the $er! door ?f m! fond eart, hath made me #oor.

( ( ( ( (

I am not ?ne who much or oft delight

To season m! fireside with #ersonal talk, 3bout )riends, who li$e within an eas! walk, ?r Aeighbours, dail!, weekl!, in m! sight2 3nd, for m! chance>acuaintance, night. Better than such discourse doth silence long, kitchen m! half>#arlour fire, 3nd listen to the fla##ing of the flame,

?r kettle, whis#ering itFs faint undersong.

&'et life,& !ou sa!, &is lifeJ we ha$e seen and see, 3nd with a li$ing #leasure we describeJ 3nd fits of s#rightl! malice do but bribe The languid mind into acti$it!. -ound sense, and lo$e itself, and mirth and glee, 3re fosterFd b! the comment and the gibe.& 4 E$en be it so2 !et still among !our tribe, ?ur dail! worldFs true Worldlings, rank not me1 "hildren are blest, and #owerfulJ their world lies Core justl! balancedJ #artl! at their feet,

3nd #art far from them2>>sweetest melodies 3re those that are b! distance made more sweetJ Whose mind is but the mind of his own e!es e is a -la$eJ the meanest we can meet1

Wings ha$e we, and as far as we can go We ma! find #leasure2 wilderness and wood, ;4 Blank ocean and mere sk!, su##ort that mood Which with the loft! sanctifies the low2 %reams, books, are each a worldJ and books, we know, 3re a substantial world, both #ure and good2 +ound these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,

?ur #astime and our ha##iness will grow. There do I find a ne$er>failing store ?f #ersonal themes, and such as I lo$e bestJ Catter wherein right $oluble I am2


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Two will I mention, dearer than the restJ 94 The gentle white s#eakingJ rancour, ne$er sought,

"omes to me notJ malignant truth, or lie. ence ha$e I genial seasons, hence ha$e I -mooth #assions, smooth discourse, and jo!ous thought2 3nd thus from da! to da! m! little Boat +ocks in its harbour, lodging #eaceabl!. 54 Blessings be with them, and eternal #raise, Who ga$e us nobler lo$es, and nobler cares, The Poets, who on earth ha$e made us eirs ?f truth and #ure delight b! hea$enl! la!s1 ?h1 might m! name be numbered among theirs, Then gladl! would I end m! mortal da!s.

( ( ( ( (

'es1 full surel! Ftwas the Echo, -olitar!, clear, #rofound, 3nswering to Thee, shouting "uckoo1 Gi$ing to thee -ound for -ound.

Whence the VoiceK from air or earthK

This the "uckoo cannot tellJ But a startling sound had birth, 3s the Bird must know full wellJ


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DT? TE -P3%E ?) 3 )+IEA%D, L3A 3G+I"=> ;4 igh will he hang thee u#, and will adorn is rustic chimne! with the last of Thee1

D-?AGD, 3T TE )E3-T ?) B+?=G3C "3-T


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)rom Town to Town, from Tower to Tower, The +ed +ose is a gladsome )lower. er thirt! !ears of Winter #astJ The +ed +ose is re$i$ed at lastJ

-he lifts her head for endless s#ring, )or e$erlasting blossoming1 4

Both +oses flourish, +ed and White. In lo$e and sisterl! delight The two that were at strife are blended, 3nd all old sorrows now are ended.>> @o!1 jo! to both1 but most to her Who is the )lower of


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-words that are with slaughter wild unt the Cother and the "hild. Who will take them from the lightK >>'onder is a Can in sight>> 'onder is a ouse>>but whereK Ao, the! must not enter there. To the "a$es, and to the Brooks,

To the "louds of ea$en she looksJ -he is s#eechless, but her e!es Pra! in ghostl! agonies. 04 Blissful Car!, Cother mild, Caid and Cother undefiled, -a$e a Cother and her "hild1

Aow Who is he that bounds with jo! ?n "arrockFs side, a -he#herd Bo!K Ao thoughts hath he but thoughts that #ass


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ath he, a "hild of strength and state1 'et lacks not friends for solemn glee, 3nd a chearful com#an!, That learnFd of him submissi$e wa!sJ 4 3nd comforted his #ri$ate da!s. To his side the )allow>deer "ame, and rested without fearJ

The Eagle, Tarn did wait on him, The #air were -er$ants of his e!e In their immortalit!, The! mo$ed about in o#en sight, ;4 To and fro, for his delight. e knew the +ocks which 3ngels haunt ?n the Countains $isitantJ e hath kennFd them taking wing2 3nd the "a$es where )aeries sing

e hath enteredJ and been told B! Voices how Cen li$Fd of old. 3mong the ea$ens his e!e can see )ace of thing that is to beJ 3nd, if Cen re#ort him right, 94 e can whis#er words of might. >>Aow another da! is come, )itter ho#e, and nobler doom2 e hath thrown aside his "rook, 3nd hath buried dee# his BookJ 3rmour rusting in his alls ?n the blood of "lifford callsJ>>

&Nuell the -cot,& e*claims the > 54 Tell th! name, thou trembling )ieldJ )ield of death, whereFer thou be, Groan thou with our $ictor!1 a##! da!, and might! hour, When our -he#herd, in his #ower, CailFd and horsFd, with lance and sword, To his 3ncestors restored,


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Glad were the Vales, and e$er! cottage hearthJ The -he#herd


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I saw thee e$er! da!J and all the while Th! )orm was slee#ing on a glass! sea.

-o #ure the sk!, so uiet was the air1 -o like, so $er! like, was da! to da!1 WheneFer I lookFd, th! Image still was thereJ It trembled, but it ne$er #assFd awa!.

ow #erfect was the calm1 it seemFd no slee#J Ao mood, which season takes awa!, or brings2 4 I could ha$e fancied that the might! %ee# Was e$en the gentlest of all gentle Things.

3h1 TEA, if mine had been the PainterFs hand, To e*#ress what then I sawJ and add the gleam, The light that ne$er was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the PoetFs dreamJ

I would ha$e #lanted thee, thou hoar! Pile1

3mid a world how different from this1 Beside a sea that could not cease to smileJ ?n tranuil land, beneath a sk! of bliss2 4

Thou shouldst ha$e seemFd a treasure>house, a mine ?f #eaceful !earsJ a chronicle of hea$en2>> ?f all the sunbeams that did e$er shine The $er! sweetest had to thee been gi$en.

3 Picture had it been of lasting ease, El!sian uiet, without toil or strifeJ Ao motion but the mo$ing tide, a breee,

?r merel! silent AatureFs breathing life.

-uch, in the fond delusion of m! heart, -uch Picture would I at that time ha$e made2 ;4 3nd seen the soul of truth in e$er! #artJ 3 faith, a trust, that could not be betra!Fd.

-o once it would ha$e been,>>Ftis so no moreJ I ha$e submitted to a new controul2 3 #ower is gone, which nothing can restoreJ 3 dee# distress hath humaniFd m! -oul.

Aot for a moment could I now behold 3 smiling sea and be what I ha$e been2 The feeling of m! loss will neFer be oldJ This, which I know, I s#eak with mind serene. 94

Then, Beaumont, )riend1 who would ha$e been the )riend, If he had li$ed, of im whom I de#lore, This Work of thine I blame not, but commendJ This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.

?h Ftis a #assionate Work1>>!et wise and wellJ Well chosen is the s#irit that is hereJ

That ulk which labours in the deadl! swell, This rueful sk!, this #ageantr! of fear1

3nd this huge "astle, standing here sublime,


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I lo$e to see the look with which it bra$es, 54 "ased in the unfeeling armour of old time, The lightFning, the fierce wind, and tram#ling wa$es.

)arewell, farewell the eart that li$es alone, ousFd in a dream, at distance from the ind1 -uch ha##iness, where$er it be known,

Is to be #itiedJ for Ftis surel! blind.

But welcome fortitude, and #atient chear, 3nd freuent sights of what is to be born1 -uch sights, or worse, as are before me here.>> Aot without ho#e we suffer and we mourn. 4

?%E.

DPaulo majora canamusD.

D?%ED.

There was a time when meadow, gro$e, and stream, The earth, and e$er! common sight, To me did seem 3##arellFd in celestial light,

The glor! and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it has been of !oreJ>> Turn wheresoeFer I ma!, B! night or da!, The things which I ha$e seen I now can see no more.

The +ainbow comes and goes, 4 3nd lo$el! is the +ose, The Coon doth with delight


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Behold the "hild among his new>born blisses, 3 four !earFs %arling of a #igm! sie1 -ee, where mid work of his own hand he lies, )retted b! sallies of his CotherFs kisses, With light u#on him from his )atherFs e!es1 -ee, at his feet, some little #lan or chart, /4 -ome fragment from his dream of human life,

-ha#Fd b! himself with newl!>learned artJ 3 wedding or a festi$al, 3 mourning or a funeralJ 3nd this hath now his heart, 3nd unto this he frames his song2 Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, lo$e, or strifeJ

But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, 44 3nd with new jo! and #ride The little 3ctor cons another #art,

)illing from time to time his &humourous stage& With all the Persons, down to #alsied 3ge, That >

Cight! Pro#het1 -eer blest1 ?n whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our li$es to findJ Thou, o$er whom th! Immortalit!

Broods like the %a!, a Caster oFer a -la$e, 3 Presence which is not to be #ut b!J To whom the gra$e 4 Is but a lonel! bed without the sense or sight ?f da! or the warm light, 3 #lace of thought where we in waiting lieJ Thou little "hild, !et glorious in the might

?f untamFd #leasures, on th! BeingFs height, Wh! with such earnest #ains dost thou #ro$oke The 'ears to bring the ine$itable !oke, Thus blindl! with th! blessedness at strifeK )ull soon th! -oul shall ha$e her earthl! freight, 3nd custom lie u#on thee with a weight, ;4 ea$! as frost, and dee# almost as life1

? jo!1 that in our embers Is something that doth li$e, That nature !et remembers What was so fugiti$e1

The thought of our #ast !ears in me doth breed Per#etual benedictions2 not indeed )or that which is most worth! to be blestJ


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%elight and libert!, the sim#le creed ?f "hildhood, whether fluttering or at rest, 94 With new>born ho#e for e$er in his breast2>> Aot for these I raise The song of thanks and #raiseJ But for those obstinate uestionings ?f sense and outward things,

)allings from us, $anishingsJ Blank misgi$ings of a "reature Co$ing about in worlds not realiFd, igh instincts, before which our mortal Aature %id tremble like a guilt! Thing sur#riFd2 54 But for those first affections, Those shadow! recollections, Which, be the! what the! ma!, 3re !et the fountain light of all our da!, 3re !et a master light of all our seeingJ =#hold us, cherish us, and make ?ur nois! !ears seem moments in the being

?f the eternal -ilence2 truths that wake, To #erish ne$erJ Which neither listlessness, nor mad endea$our, 4 Aor Can nor Bo!, Aor all that is at enmit! with jo!, "an utterl! abolish or destro!1 ence, in a season of calm weather, Though inland far we be, ?ur -ouls ha$e sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, "an in a moment tra$el thither, 3nd see the "hildren s#ort u#on the shore,

3nd hear the might! waters rolling e$ermore. 04

Then, sing !e Birds, sing, sing a jo!ous song1 3nd let the !oung


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E$en more than when I tri##Fd lightl! as the!J The innocent brightness of a new>born %a! Is lo$el! !etJ The "louds that gather round the setting sun %o take a sober colouring from an e!e 44 That hath ke#t watch oFer manFs mortalit!J 3nother race hath been, and other #alms are won.

Thanks to the human heart b! which we li$e, Thanks to its tenderness, its jo!s, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can gi$e Thoughts that do often lie too dee# for tears.

DA?TE- to the -E"?A% V?>&3nd wondrous length and strength of arm.&The #eo#le of the neighbourhood of >DThe solitar! +ea#erD. This Poem was suggested b! abeautiful sentence in a C- Tour in -cotland written b! a )riend, thelast line being taken from it D$erbatimD.

A?TE III.

P3GE 5 L;/M.>>TE B


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"lifford, Hc. Hc., who is the subject of this Poem, was the son of@ohn, four !earsJ all which time heli$ed as a she#herd in 'orkshire, or in "umberland, where the estateof his )ather>in>law L-ir


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gate of Pendragon "astle, b! the "ountess of Pembroke LI belie$e hisGrandmotherM at the time she re#aired that structure, refers thereader. &D3nd the! that shall be of thee shall build the old waste#lacesJ thou shalt raise u# the foundations of man! generations, andthou shalt be called the re#airer of the breachD, Dthe restorer of#aths to dwell inD.& The Earl of Thanet, the #resent #ossessor ofthe Estates, with a due res#ect for the memor! of his ancestors, and

a #ro#er sense of the $alue and beaut! of these remains of antiuit!,has LI am toldM gi$en orders that the! shall be #reser$ed from allde#redations.

A?TE VI.

P3GE ;4 L;49MJ line .>>&Earth hel#ed him with the cr! of blood.&This line is from The Battle of Bosworth )ield b! -ir @ohn BeaumontLBrother to the %ramatistM, whose #oems are written with so muchs#irit, elegance, and harmon!, that it is su##osed, as the Book is$er! scarce, a new edition of it would be acce#table to -cholars and

Cen of taste, and, accordingl!, it is in contem#lation to gi$e one.

A?TE VII.

P3GE ;5 L;4/MJ line 5.>>

&3nd both the und!ing )ish that swim Through Bowscale>Tarn,& Hc.

It is imagined b! the #eo#le of the "ountr! that there are twoimmortal )ish, Inhabitants of this Tarn, which lies in the mountains

not far from Threlkeld.>>Blencathara, mentioned before, is the oldand #ro#er name of the mountain $ulgarl! called -addle>back.

A?TE VIII.

P3GE ; L;4MJ lines 0 and 8.>>

&3rmour rusting in his alls ?n the blood of "lifford calls.&

The martial character of the "liffords is well known to the readers

of English istor!J but it ma! not be im#ro#er here to sa!, b! wa! ofcomment on these lines and what follows, that, besides se$eralothers who #erished in the same manner, the four immediateProgenitors of the #erson in whose hearing this is su##osed to bes#oken, all died in the )ield.

A?TE I.

P3GE 94 L;9M.>>

&Im#ortunate and hea$! load1&

( ( ( ( (

DFIm#ortuna e gra$e salmaD.F


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>>CI"3E< 3AGE


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poems in two volumes vol 2 william wordsworth

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