William Wordsworth Complete Works – World’s Best Collection E-Book

William Wordsworth

• Herausgeber: Imagination Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 3927

Beschreibung

William Wordsworth Complete Works World's Best Collection

This is the world's best William Wordsworth collection, including the most complete set of Wordsworth's works available plus many free bonus materials.

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth was a major English Romantic poet. He, together with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped to launch the entire Romantic Age in English literature with their joint publication Lyrical Ballads. In addition, Wordsworth was Britain's poet laureate from 1843 until his death

The ‘Must-Have' Complete Collection

In this irresistible collection you get a full set of Wordsworth work, with more than 300 works - All his poems, All poetry, All his prose works, and a full length biography. Plus Free Bonus material.

Works Included:

Poetical Work Including, among many others:

The Recluse

The Excursion

All Sonnets

All Minor And Major Poetry. Including:

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

She Was A Phantom Of Delight

Strange Fits Of Pasion Have I Known

The Idiot Boy

The Russian Fugitive

The Prelude - Wordsworth's Magnum Opus, Autobiographical Poem

Prose Work Including works such as:

Apology For The French Revolution

Advice For The Young

Poetry As A Study

Of Poetic Diction

Your Free Special Bonuses

Selections From Oxford Lecture Series On Poetry - An intriguing selection of a an Oxford lecture series. These selections cover Wordsworth and his poetry in detail.

Wordsworth – Comprehensive biography written by F W H Myers

Historical Context and Literary Context Notes - Detailed explanations of the Regency Era and Romanticism, written specially for this collection.

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This is the best Wordsworth collection you can get, so get it now and start enjoying and being inspired by his words like never before.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Title Page

HISTORICAL CONTEXT: THE REGENCY PERIOD

LITERARY CONTEXT: ROMANTICISM AND THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT

THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

THE PROSE WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

EXTRACTS FROM OXFORD LECTURES ON POETRY BY A. C. BRADLEY.

WORDSWORTH

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH COMPLETE WORKS – WORLD’S BEST COLLECTION

Edited By Darryl Marks

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH COMPLETE WORKS – WORLD’S BEST COLLECTION Original Publication Dates Poems, prose and works of William Wordsworth – circa 1770 – 1850 Oxford Lecture Series – AC Bradley -1909 Wordsworth – FWH Myers – circa 1901 First Imagination Books edition published 2018Copyright © 2018 by Darryl Marks and Infinite Eternity Entertainment LLC All Rights Reserved."HISTORICAL CONTEXT: THE REGENCY ERA” “LITERARY CONTEXT: ROMANTICISIM” By Darryl Marks Copyright © 2018 by Darryl Marks and Infinite Eternity Entertainment LLC All Rights Reserved.

HISTORICAL CONTEXT: THE REGENCY PERIOD

The Regency Period

Wordsworth wrote within what is known as the Regency Era. This Regency Era or Regency Period can refer to various stretches of time, although the formal Regency lasted from 1811–1820. This period began in 1810 when George III was taken seriously ill. Due to fits of madness he was declared incapable of ruling because of his mental incapacity. In 1788 there had been a Regency Act that had been created because of George’s fits of madness. This act made it possible for his son, the Prince Regent, to rule as head of the country. In 1810, when George III’s madness became untenable, the act was formally passed, making George III’s son Regent and head of state. The Regency Period itself lasted until George III’s death in 1820 when the Regent officially became King George IV and was able to rule in his own right.

In 1837, Victoria became Queen, heralding the beginning of the Victorian Era.

It is easy to see why various different time periods can be classed as the Regency period. For certain historians, the period from 1795 to 1837 (which includes the latter part of the reign of George III and the reigns of his sons George IV and William IV) is sometimes regarded as the Regency era.

The Prince Regent Himself

George Augustus Frederick, Prince of Wales, was 48 when he was appointed Prince Regent to his father, King George III. Notable for his extravagant lifestyle, the Regent was heavy drinker and compulsive gambler, who was gifted with charming manners, and musical ability in the form of singing and the cello.

The Regent though, was considered untrustworthy, hated his father George III, and this led him down several wayward paths: he colluded and allied himself with the Whig opposition in Parliament; he illegally and secretly married Maria Fitzherbert in 1785; he also married Princess Caroline of Brunswick, in 1795, despite hating her as well.

The Characteristics of the Regency

Regardless of time period used the Regency period is characterized by distinctive trends in British architecture, literature, fashions, politics, and culture.

Some of the basic characteristics of the period include:

Like the Regent himself, is characterized by freedom and extravagance compared with the ascetic lifestyle of his father George III.

Society was also considerably stratified, and there was a large class divide between the rich, opulence of the higher classes (sometimes bordering on debauchery) and the dingy, darker side of the lower classes.

There may have been rich, sumptuous, glamorous elements to life in higher class Regency society, but there was also the less affluent areas of London, where thievery, womanizing, gambling, and constant drinking was rampant.

Poverty was addressed only marginally and the betterment of society was far from the minds of the ruling class.

In fact, the formation of the Regency after George III saw the end of a pious, reserved society, and gave birth of a frivolous, ostentatious one. This was influenced by the Regent himself, who was kept removed from politics and military exploits and only channeled his energies into the pursuit of pleasure (also partly as his sole form of rebellion against what he saw as disapproval and censure in the form of his father).

Saul David in his biography of George IV describes the Regency “in its widest sense (1800-1830)” as a “devil-may-care period of low morals and high fashion”.

This societal gap was even exploited in the popular media and literature: One of the driving forces in the changes in the world at that time was the industrial revolution and its effects. Steam printing allowed a massively improved method to produce printed materials, and this gave rise to wildly popular fashionable novels about the rich and aristocratic. Publishers secretly hinted at the specific identity of these individuals in the books in order to drive sales. The gap in the hierarchy of society was so great that those of the upper classes were viewed by those below as wondrous and fantastical (like a fiction or living legend).

Such novels and literature from this period is still popular today, as is the period novel itself.

Society

One of the main draw-cards for the Regency’s popularity is its elegance and achievements in the fine arts and architecture. Although this was an era where war was waged (such as with Napoleon), the Regency was also a period of great refinement and cultural achievement. This shaped and molded the whole societal structure of Britain as a whole.

The Regency is popular mostly because of the so-called ‘Feel of the Regency’ period, associated with such period romances, glamorous elegance and etiquette, extravagant follies, and melodramatic emotions; filled with balls and duels, unrequited love, and romantic liaisons.

In terms of the prevailing literature movement of the time, it was the Romantic Movement that was well-established by the time the Regency started. Rich in literature, poetry and prose, it was the time of the Romantic poets like Wordsworth, Byron, Coleridge and Shelley and the Romantic novelist, Sir Walter Scott.

Romanticism was a revolt against the aristocratic, social, and political norms of the Enlightenment period (and its rationalistic attitude) which preceded it. Romanticism stressed emotion as a source of literary experience, placing new emphasis on such emotions as anxiety, horror, and the feeling when observing nature. All of these themes are evident in the best-known classic Regency works.

Of course the works of Jane Austen are inextricably linked to the Regency, and her works have become known as archetypal Regency romances. It was a decade of particular etiquette and fashions with traits that include a highly developed sense of social standing for the characters, emphasis on "manners" and class issues, and the emergence of modern social thought amongst the upper classes of England.

In the British Regency, a marriage based on love was rarely an option for most women and instead, securing a steady and sufficient income was the first consideration for both the woman and her family.

This led to the Regency period yielding o many examples of both novel and poetry that echoed literary romance: it gave many the opportunity to live through the work's heroine, who generally married someone she loved deeply.

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was published in 1818, also falling within the Regency era. It also was part of the Romantics era and many consider it to be the single piece of British literature that best reflects the interests and concerns of the time - fascination with and fear of the science and technological advances of the times, while dredging up the emotions of horror and terror.

Major writers of classic Regency fiction

Jane Austen (1775–1817)

Maria Edgeworth (1768–1849)

Susan Ferrier (1782–1854)

ETA Hoffman (1776–1822)

Sir Walter Scott (1771–1832)

Mary Shelley (1797–1851)

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822)

Johann David Wyss (1743–1818)

Major writers of modern Regency fiction

Mary Balogh (born 1944)

Jo Beverley (born 1947)

Susan Carroll (born 1952)

Loretta Chase (born 1949)

Lecia Cornwall

Georgette Heyer (1902–1974)

Mary Jo Putney

Events of the Regency Era

1811

George Augustus Frederick, Prince of Wales, begins his nine-year tenure as regent and became known as The Prince Regent.

1812

Prime Minister Spencer Perceval assassinated in the House of Commons.

The British were victorious over French armies at the Battle of Salamanca).

Gas company (Gas Light and Coke Company) founded. Charles Dickens, English writer and social critic of the Victorian era, was born on 7 February 1812.

1813

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen was published.

William Hedley's Puffing Billy – which was an early steam locomotive - runs on smooth rails.

1814

Invasion of France by allies led to the Treaty of Paris, ended one of the Napoleonic Wars.

Napoleon abdicates and is exiled to Elba.

Gas lighting introduced in London streets.

1815

Napoleon I of France defeated by the Seventh Coalition at the Battle of Waterloo.

Napoleon now exiled to St. Helena.

1816

Income tax abolished.

A "year without a summer" followed a volcanic eruption in Indonesia.

Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein.

1817

Antonin Carême created a spectacular feast for the Prince Regent at the Royal Pavilion in Brighton.

The death of Princess Charlotte (the Prince Regent's daughter) from complications of childbirth changed obstetrical practices.

1818

Queen Charlotte died at Kew. Manchester cotton spinners went on strike. Frankenstein published.

Emily Brontë born.

1819

Ivanhoe by Walter Scott was published.

Sir Stamford Raffles, a British administrator, founded Singapore. First steam-propelled vessel (the SS Savannah) crossed the Atlantic and arrived in Liverpool from Savannah, Georgia.

1820

Death of George III and accession of The Prince Regent as George IV.

Historical Context of the Regency - Periods in English History

Prehistoric Britainuntil c. 43

Roman Britainc. 43–410

Anglo-Saxonc. 500–1066

Norman1066–1154

Plantagenet1154–1485

Tudor1485–1603

Elizabethan1558–1603

Stuart1603–1714

Jacobean1603–1625

Caroline1625–1649

(Interregnum)1649–1660

Restoration1660–1714

Georgian1714–1837

Regency1811–1820

Victorian1837–1901

Edwardian1901–1914

First World War1914–1918

Interwar Britain1918–1939

Second World War1939–1945

LITERARY CONTEXT: ROMANTICISM AND THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT

Romanticism and the Romantic Movement

Wordsworth belongs to a period of time in arts and literature known as the Romantic Era. His work echoes many of the ideals of this Romantic movement. To fully appreciate his work, it can be useful to understand this time in literary history.

The Romantic era was caused by a variety of factors.

Firstly, it was largely a reaction to the Age of Enlightenment, a period of time defined by strict rules, intellectualism, as well as aristocratic social and political norms.

Romanticism was also partly a reaction to the Industrial Revolution and modernity, as well as the scientific rationalization of nature.

Historical Context

Romanticism, as an artistic, literary, musical and intellectual movement, began in Europe toward the end of the 18th century. Because of Romanticism beginning in slightly different time periods in various different countries (ranging from Scotland, Great Britain, to France, Germany and beyond), it is a matter of debate exactly when the movement began.

There are even scholars who identify the French Revolution, which began in 1789, as being another ‘source’ of the inspiration that led to the Era, with its rejection of the rules and class structures of the preceding era.

Despite this debate, it is generally accepted that the Romantic Era began in the late 18th Century and reached its peak in the approximate period from 1800 to 1850.

The period of time that preceded Romanticism is known as the Age of Enlightenment, which was characterized by the concepts of Rationalism and Classicism.

Enlightenment was ruled by concepts of rationality, of sciences, mathematics and numbers. By strict rules in regard to literature and the arts. Enlightenment also rejected many elements of the past, such as the Middle Ages and Medieval periods.

Its main focus was on intellectualism, on essentially endeavoring to define the concept of life according to intellect and reason.

Romanticism, Romantic Literature and Romantic Poetry was a direct reaction against this intellectualism and reason.

Instead of the rationality and the rules that Enlightenment held, Romanticism focused on human experience as defined by emotion.

From a poetry point of view, Romantic Poetry was a reaction against the set standards and conventions of eighteenth century poetry and neoclassic poetry. As explained by William J. Long, “The Romantic Movement was marked, and is always marked, by a strong reaction and protest against the bondage of rule and custom which in science and theology as well as literature, generally tend to fetter the free human spirit.”

Besides from the French Revolution as being cited as an influence in the beginning of the movement, some of the other main factors that gave rise to the era can be traced back to the German “Sturm und Drang” movement. Meaning "Storm and Drive" or "Storm and Urge" or "Storm and Stress", this was as a proto-Romantic movement between the 1760s and 1780s in German literature and music.

It emphasized individual subjectivity, extreme emotional states, free expression, all of which were in direct opposition to the objectivity and rule-based rationalism imposed by the Enlightenment. The period takes it’s named from Friedrich Maximilian Klinger's play Sturm und Drang, which was first performed in 1777.

Another German influence came in the form of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. In 1774, Goethe wrote the novel “The Sorrows of Young Werther” and its protagonist struck a strong chord with young men throughout Europe - he was a young, passionate sensitive artist wand many young men in Germany sought to emulate him.

In English literature, the key figures of the Romantic movement are considered to be the group of poets including William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, John Keats, Lord Byron, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and the much older William Blake, followed later by the isolated figure of John Clare. In Scotland, Robert Burns became a leading figure in the Romantic Movement and influenced many other writers all across Europe (even becoming the people’s poet of Russia).

In England, it was the 1798 publication of Lyrical Ballads (from Wordsworth and Coleridge) that is said to have started the movement officially.

The poems of Lyrical Ballads intentionally re-imagined the way poetry should sound. As Wordsworth put it: "By fitting to metrical arrangement a selection of the real language of men…"

In other words, Wordsworth wanted to show the true emotions men and women felt and find a way to construct poetry and art that evoked that emotion, and moved people emotionally.

As he said: “I have said before that poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin in emotion recollected in tranquility: the emotion is contemplated till, by a species of reaction, the tranquility gradually disappears, and an emotion, kindred to that which was before the subject of contemplation, is gradually produced, and does itself actually exist in the mind…”

The Romantic movement spread across Europe and even found it influenced artists in America, such as Longfellow.

Etymology

Although common usage of the word Romantic has attached concepts such as love, romance and passion, the word in context of the Romantic Era and Romanticism is derived from different sources and has different connotations.

Essentially, the word is derived from the root word "Roman", which is found in various European languages, such as "romance" and "Romanesque".

In earlier periods, Romantic or romantique, as an adjective could be used to describe praise for natural phenomena such as views and sunsets. In other words, it wasn’t only used for the idea of Romance between people within a relationship.

Elements of Romanticism

Emotion

As explained, Romanticism was a direct Counter-Enlightenment movement and its focus was on the filtering of natural emotion through the human mind in order to create meaning. Whereas Enlightenment focused on Rationality, Romanticism focused on Emotion.

Although the concept may seem natural to us now, this was not so in the period of Enlightenment - strict rules and a focus of Objectivity, made poetry and literature of that period very different.

It was the Romantic movement itself that gave rise to the concept of using emotion in art, of trying to evoke and emulate true human emotional experience in words.

At the time, this was seen as difficult and the movement was revolutionary for its ability to convey that true emotion.

Because of this, the poets and writers themselves often wrote down much of their own emotion in their work, and so much of romantic poetry invited the reader to identify the protagonists with the poets themselves.

The emotions it emphasized were vast, ranging from love to intense emotions such as apprehension, horror and terror, and awe.

Imagination

Belief in the importance of the imagination is a distinctive feature of romantic poets such as John Keats, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and P. B. Shelley.

This was unlike the neoclassical poets who put greater importance on a set of rules that dictated what a work should look like.

Indeed, for Wordsworth and Blake, as well as Victor Hugo and Alessandro Manzoni, they saw imagination is a spiritual force. They also believed that literature, especially poetry, could improve the world.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge and others believed there were natural laws the imagination would unconsciously follow through artistic inspiration if left alone. So it was an essential part of Romanticism that the content of art had to come from the imagination of the artist, with as little interference as possible from "artificial" rules dictating what a work should consist of. The influence of these models from other works was considered to impede the creator's own imagination.

The concept of the genius/artist who was able to produce his own original work through this process of creation from nothingness, is key to Romanticism, and to be derivative was the worst sin. This idea is often called "romantic originality.”

Rejection of Satire

Predominately, Romanticism tended to regard satire as something unworthy of serious attention.

The work of the Romantics was intended to be about true emotion and satire detracted from this.

Spontaneity

Being spontaneous and not following strict rules was highly admired by the Romantic artists. An example of this was an impromptu musical recital, what might be called a ‘jam session’ today.

Instead of a tightly set out set of rule based structure of music, with its required crescendos and codas, it was more important to the Romantics to be spontaneous and to see what happened in the music.

Nature poetry

For most of the Romantics, love for nature was another important feature of romantic poetry, as well a source of inspiration. Their connection to external nature and places, and a belief in pantheism, was paramount.

Wordsworth considered nature as a living thing, teacher, god and everything, as expressed in his epic poem The Prelude.

Keats and Shelley were also nature poets, who also believed that nature is a living thing and there is a union between nature and man.

Coleridge differs from other romantic poets of his age, in that he has a realistic perspective on nature. Coleridge believed that joy does not come from external nature, but from the reaction an individual has to that nature based on their own feelings at the time.

Still, nature was very important to many Romantics of the time. The cliché of the poet sitting under a tree, alone in a meadow, comes from this Romantic period.

Isolation of the Poet

Love of nature and that idea of the Poet alone also ties into the idea of a poet’s isolation.

In order to create this wholly original piece of art, it was generally emphasized that the artists should be alone, working on his own.

This was in contrast to the usually very social art of the Enlightenment.

Melancholy

Melancholy and sadness occupied a prominent place in romantic poetry, and served as an important source of inspiration for the Romantic poets. Again, this emotion was in contrast to the Objectivity of Enlightenment.

Medievalism, Hellenism and Exoticism

Romantic poetry was attracted to nostalgia, in particular the Middle Ages, the heroes and tales of the Medieval period, and the classical Greek writings. They were also attracted to exotic, remote and obscure places, which is shown in much of their writing.

Supernaturalism

Although not essential to all Romantics, many of the romantic poets used supernatural elements in their poetry. Samuel Taylor Coleridge is the leading romantic poet in this regard, and "Kubla Khan" is full of supernatural elements. Romantic writers in literature often used Supernatural elements, such as Edgar Allen Poe. This supernatural element often gave the work an even more intense emotional content.

Subjectivity

Romantic poetry is the poetry of sentiments, emotions and imagination, as opposed to the objectivity of neoclassical poetry. Neoclassical poets avoided describing their personal emotions in their poetry, but the Romantics often placed themselves into the poem emotionally.

Nationalism

Although much of English Romanticism was not nationalistic, in other parts of Europe, for example Germany, there was a great deal of nationalism in the Romantic works. Even writers such as Robert Burns (who is known as the Poet Laureate of Scotland) evoked a certain sense of national pride in their writing.

End of Romanticism

The end of the Romantic era is marked in some areas by a new style…Realism. Some scholars see this new movement as another reaction against the previous era – in other words, Realism was the reaction against Romanticism.

This Realism movement was led by France, with Balzac and Flaubert in literature and Courbet in painting. It affected literature, especially the novel and drama, painting, and even music, through Verismo opera.

The reasons for this are also complicated but it was partly because the Early Romantic visionary optimism and belief that the world was in the process of great change and improvement had largely vanished, especially in northern Europe.

As a result, art became more conventionally political as its creators engaged polemically with the world.

Legacy

Many of the Romantics ideas about nature, individuality, purpose of art, above all the pre-eminent importance of originality, remained important for later generations, and often underlie modern views.

We accept those concepts as in inherent part of the art and literature we see every day, but we should remember that it was these writers that actually created those concepts in art.

THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

LINES WRITTEN AS A SCHOOL EXERCISE AT HAWKSHEAD, ANNO AETATIS 14

"AND has the Sun his flaming chariot driven

Two hundred times around the ring of heaven,

Since Science first, with all her sacred train,

Beneath yon roof began her heavenly reign?

While thus I mused, methought, before mine eyes,

The Power of EDUCATION seemed to rise;

Not she whose rigid precepts trained the boy

Dead to the sense of every finer joy;

Nor that vile wretch who bade the tender age

Spurn Reason's law and humour Passion's rage; 10

But she who trains the generous British youth

In the bright paths of fair majestic Truth:

Emerging slow from Academus' grove

In heavenly majesty she seemed to move.

Stern was her forehead, but a smile serene

'Softened the terrors of her awful mien.'

Close at her side were all the powers, designed

To curb, exalt, reform the tender mind:

With panting breast, now pale as winter snows,

Now flushed as Hebe, Emulation rose; 20

Shame followed after with reverted eye,

And hue far deeper than the Tyrian dye;

Last Industry appeared with steady pace,

A smile sat beaming on her pensive face.

I gazed upon the visionary train,

Threw back my eyes, returned, and gazed again.

When lo! the heavenly goddess thus began,

Through all my frame the pleasing accents ran.

"'When Superstition left the golden light

And fled indignant to the shades of night; 30

When pure Religion reared the peaceful breast

And lulled the warring passions into rest,

Drove far away the savage thoughts that roll

In the dark mansions of the bigot's soul,

Enlivening Hope displayed her cheerful ray,

And beamed on Britain's sons a brighter day;

So when on Ocean's face the storm subsides,

Hushed are the winds and silent are the tides;

The God of day, in all the pomp of light,

Moves through the vault of heaven, and dissipates the

night; 40

Wide o'er the main a trembling lustre plays,

The glittering waves reflect the dazzling blaze

Science with joy saw Superstition fly

Before the lustre of Religion's eye;

With rapture she beheld Britannia smile,

Clapped her strong wings, and sought the cheerful isle,

The shades of night no more the soul involve,

She sheds her beam, and, lo! the shades dissolve;

No jarring monks, to gloomy cell confined,

With mazy rules perplex the weary mind; 50

No shadowy forms entice the soul aside,

Secure she walks, Philosophy her guide.

Britain, who long her warriors had adored,

And deemed all merit centred in the sword;

Britain, who thought to stain the field was fame,

Now honoured Edward's less than Bacon's name.

Her sons no more in listed fields advance

To ride the ring, or toss the beamy lance;

No longer steel their indurated hearts

To the mild influence of the finer arts; 60

Quick to the secret grotto they retire

To court majestic truth, or wake the golden lyre;

By generous Emulation taught to rise,

The seats of learning brave the distant skies.

Then noble Sandys, inspired with great design,

Reared Hawkshead's happy roof, and called it mine.

There have I loved to show the tender age

The golden precepts of the classic page;

To lead the mind to those Elysian plains

Where, throned in gold, immortal Science reigns; 70

Fair to the view is sacred Truth displayed,

In all the majesty of light arrayed,

To teach, on rapid wings, the curious soul

To roam from heaven to heaven, from pole to pole,

From thence to search the mystic cause of things

And follow Nature to her secret springs;

Nor less to guide the fluctuating youth

Firm in the sacred paths of moral truth,

To regulate the mind's disordered frame,

And quench the passions kindling into flame; 80

The glimmering fires of Virtue to enlarge,

And purge from Vice's dross my tender charge.

Oft have I said, the paths of Fame pursue,

And all that Virtue dictates, dare to do;

Go to the world, peruse the book of man,

And learn from thence thy own defects to scan;

Severely honest, break no plighted trust,

But coldly rest not here--be more than just;

Join to the rigours of the sires of Rome

The gentler manners of the private dome; 90

When Virtue weeps in agony of woe,

Teach from the heart the tender tear to flow;

If Pleasure's soothing song thy soul entice,

Or all the gaudy pomp of splendid Vice,

Arise superior to the Siren's power,

The wretch, the short-lived vision of an hour;

Soon fades her cheek, her blushing beauties fly,

As fades the chequered bow that paints the sky,

So shall thy sire, whilst hope his breast inspires,

And wakes anew life's glimmering trembling fires, 100

Hear Britain's sons rehearse thy praise with joy,

Look up to heaven, and bless his darling boy.

If e'er these precepts quelled the passions' strife,

If e'er they smoothed the rugged walks of life,

If e'er they pointed forth the blissful way

That guides the spirit to eternal day,

Do thou, if gratitude inspire thy breast,

Spurn the soft fetters of lethargic rest.

Awake, awake! and snatch the slumbering lyre,

Let this bright morn and Sandys the song inspire.' 110

"I looked obedience: the celestial Fair

Smiled like the morn, and vanished into air."

The officious touch that makes me droop again.

EXTRACT FROM THE CONCLUSION OF A POEM, COMPOSED IN ANTICIPATION OF LEAVING SCHOOL

DEAR native regions, I foretell,

From what I feel at this farewell,

That, wheresoe'er my steps may tend,

And whensoe'er my course shall end,

If in that hour a single tie

Survive of local sympathy,

My soul will cast the backward view,

The longing look alone on you.

Thus, while the Sun sinks down to rest

Far in the regions of the west, 10

Though to the vale no parting beam

Be given, not one memorial gleam,

A lingering light he fondly throws

On the dear hills where first he rose.

1787, 8, & 9.

WRITTEN IN VERY EARLY YOUTH

CALM is all nature as a resting wheel.

The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;

The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass,

Is cropping audibly his later meal:

Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal

O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky.

Now, in this blank of things, a harmony,

Home-felt, and home-created, comes to heal

That grief for which the senses still supply

Fresh food; for only then, when memory 10

Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain

Those busy cares that would allay my pain;

Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel

1789.

AN EVENING WALK

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY

FAR from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove

Through bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove;

Where Derwent rests, and listens to the roar

That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore;

Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads,

To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads;

Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds,

Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland bounds;

Where, undisturbed by winds, Winander sleeps

'Mid clustering isles, and holly-sprinkled steeps; 10

Where twilight glens endear my Esthwaite's shore,

And memory of departed pleasures, more.

Fair scenes, erewhile, I taught, a happy child,

The echoes of your rocks my carols wild:

The spirit sought not then, in cherished sadness,

A cloudy substitute for failing gladness,

In youth's keen eye the livelong day was bright,

The sun at morning, and the stars at night,

Alike, when first the bittern's hollow bill

Was heard, or woodcocks roamed the moonlight hill. 20

In thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain,

And hope itself was all I knew of pain;

For then, the inexperienced heart would beat

At times, while young Content forsook her seat,

And wild Impatience, pointing upward, showed,

Through passes yet unreached, a brighter road.

Alas! the idle tale of man is found

Depicted in the dial's moral round;

Hope with reflection blends her social rays

To gild the total tablet of his days; 30

Yet still, the sport of some malignant power,

He knows but from its shade the present hour.

But why, ungrateful, dwell on idle pain?

To show what pleasures yet to me remain,

Say, will my Friend, with unreluctant ear,

The history of a poet's evening hear?

When, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still,

Breathed a pale steam around the glaring hill,

And shades of deep-embattled clouds were seen,

Spotting the northern cliffs with lights between; 40

When crowding cattle, checked by rails that make

A fence far stretched into the shallow lake,

Lashed the cool water with their restless tails,

Or from high points of rock looked out for fanning gales:

When school-boys stretched their length upon the green;

And round the broad-spread oak, a glimmering scene,

In the rough fern-clad park, the herded deer

Shook the still-twinkling tail and glancing ear;

When horses in the sunburnt intake stood,

And vainly eyed below the tempting flood, 50

Or tracked the passenger, in mute distress,

With forward neck the closing gate to press--

Then, while I wandered where the huddling rill

Brightens with water-breaks the hollow ghyll

As by enchantment, an obscure retreat

Opened at once, and stayed my devious feet.

While thick above the rill the branches close,

In rocky basin its wild waves repose,

Inverted shrubs, and moss of gloomy green,

Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between; 60

And its own twilight softens the whole scene,

Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine

On withered briars that o'er the crags recline;

Save where, with sparkling foam, a small cascade

Illumines, from within, the leafy shade;

Beyond, along the vista of the brook,

Where antique roots its bustling course o'erlook,

The eye reposes on a secret bridge

Half grey, half shagged with ivy to its ridge;

There, bending o'er the stream, the listless swain 70

Lingers behind his disappearing wain.

--Did Sabine grace adorn my living line,

Blandusia's praise, wild stream, should yield to thine!

Never shall ruthless minister of death

'Mid thy soft glooms the glittering steel unsheath;

No goblets shall, for thee, be crowned with flowers,

No kid with piteous outcry thrill thy bowers;

The mystic shapes that by thy margin rove

A more benignant sacrifice approve--

A mind, that, in a calm angelic mood 80

Of happy wisdom, meditating good,

Beholds, of all from her high powers required,

Much done, and much designed, and more desired,--

Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined,

Entire affection for all human kind.

Dear Brook, farewell! To-morrow's noon again

Shall hide me, wooing long thy wildwood strain;

But now the sun has gained his western road,

And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad.

While, near the midway cliff, the silvered kite 90

In many a whistling circle wheels her flight;

Slant watery lights, from parting clouds, apace

Travel along the precipice's base;

Cheering its naked waste of scattered stone,

By lichens grey, and scanty moss, o'ergrown;

Where scarce the foxglove peeps, or thistle's beard;

And restless stone-chat, all day long, is heard.

How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view

The spacious landscape change in form and hue!

Here, vanish, as in mist, before a flood 100

Of bright obscurity, hill, lawn, and wood;

There, objects, by the searching beams betrayed,

Come forth, and here retire in purple shade;

Even the white stems of birch, the cottage white,

Soften their glare before the mellow light;

The skiffs, at anchor where with umbrage wide

Yon chestnuts half the latticed boat-house hide,

Shed from their sides, that face the sun's slant beam,

Strong flakes of radiance on the tremulous stream:

Raised by yon travelling flock, a dusty cloud 110

Mounts from the road, and spreads its moving shroud;

The shepherd, all involved in wreaths of fire,

Now shows a shadowy speck, and now is lost entire.

Into a gradual calm the breezes sink,

A blue rim borders all the lake's still brink;

There doth the twinkling aspen's foliage sleep,

And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deep:

And now, on every side, the surface breaks

Into blue spots, and slowly lengthening streaks;

Here, plots of sparkling water tremble bright 120

With thousand thousand twinkling points of light;

There, waves that, hardly weltering, die away,

Tip their smooth ridges with a softer ray;

And now the whole wide lake in deep repose

Is hushed, and like a burnished mirror glows,

Save where, along the shady western marge,

Coasts, with industrious oar, the charcoal barge.

Their panniered train a group of potters goad,

Winding from side to side up the steep road;

The peasant, from yon cliff of fearful edge 130

Shot, down the headlong path darts with his sledge;

Bright beams the lonely mountain-horse illume

Feeding 'mid purple heath, "green rings," and broom;

While the sharp slope the slackened team confounds,

Downward the ponderous timber-wain resounds;

In foamy breaks the rill, with merry song,

Dashed o'er the rough rock, lightly leaps along;

From lonesome chapel at the mountain's feet,

Three humble bells their rustic chime repeat;

Sounds from the water-side the hammered boat; 140

And 'blasted' quarry thunders, heard remote!

Even here, amid the sweep of endless woods,

Blue pomp of lakes, high cliffs, and falling floods,

Not undelightful are the simplest charms,

Found by the grassy door of mountain-farms.

Sweetly ferocious, round his native walks,

Pride of his sister-wives, the monarch stalks;

Spur-clad his nervous feet, and firm his tread;

A crest of purple tops the warrior's head.

Bright sparks his black and rolling eye-ball hurls 150

Afar, his tail he closes and unfurls;

On tiptoe reared, he strains his clarion throat,

Threatened by faintly-answering farms remote:

Again with his shrill voice the mountain rings,

While, flapped with conscious pride, resound his wings.

Where, mixed with graceful birch, the sombrous pine

And yew-tree o'er the silver rocks recline;

I love to mark the quarry's moving trains,

Dwarf panniered steeds, and men, and numerous wains;

How busy all the enormous hive within, 160

While Echo dallies with its various din!

Some (hear yon not their chisels' clinking sound?)

Toil, small as pigmies in the gulf profound;

Some, dim between the lofty cliffs descried,

O'erwalk the slender plank from side to side;

These, by the pale-blue rocks that ceaseless ring,

In airy baskets hanging, work and sing.

Just where a cloud above the mountain rears

An edge all flame, the broadening sun appears;

A long blue bar its aegis orb divides, 170

And breaks the spreading of its golden tides;

And now that orb has touched the purple steep

Whose softened image penetrates the deep.

'Cross the calm lake's blue shades the cliffs aspire,

With towers and woods, a "prospect all on fire;"

While coves and secret hollows, through a ray

Of fainter gold, a purple gleam betray.

Each slip of lawn the broken rocks between

Shines in the light with more than earthly green:

Deep yellow beams the scattered stems illume, 180

Far in the level forest's central gloom:

Waving his hat, the shepherd, from the vale,

Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale,--

The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks,

Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted flocks.

Where oaks o'erhang the road the radiance shoots

On tawny earth, wild weeds, and twisted roots;

The druid-stones a brightened ring unfold;

And all the babbling brooks are liquid gold;

Sunk to a curve, the day-star lessens still, 190

Gives one bright glance, and drops behind the hill.

In these secluded vales, if village fame,

Confirmed by hoary hairs, belief may claim;

When up the hills, as now, retired the light,

Strange apparitions mocked the shepherd's sight.

The form appears of one that spurs his steed

Midway along the hill with desperate speed;

Unhurt pursues his lengthened flight, while all

Attend, at every stretch, his headlong fall.

Anon, appears a brave, a gorgeous show 200

Of horsemen-shadows moving to and fro;

At intervals imperial banners stream,

And now the van reflects the solar beam;

The rear through iron brown betrays a sullen gleam.

While silent stands the admiring crowd below,

Silent the visionary warriors go,

Winding in ordered pomp their upward way

Till the last banner of the long array

Has disappeared, and every trace is fled

Of splendour--save the beacon's spiry head 210

Tipt with eve's latest gleam of burning red.

Now, while the solemn evening shadows sail,

On slowly-waving pinions, down the vale;

And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines

Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines;

'Tis pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray

Where, winding on along some secret bay,

The swan uplifts his chest, and backward flings

His neck, a varying arch, between his towering wings:

The eye that marks the gliding creature sees 220

How graceful, pride can be, and how majestic, ease,

While tender cares and mild domestic loves

With furtive watch pursue her as she moves,

The female with a meeker charm succeeds,

And her brown little-ones around her leads,

Nibbling the water lilies as they pass,

Or playing wanton with the floating grass.

She, in a mother's care, her beauty's pride

Forgetting, calls the wearied to her side;

Alternately they mount her back, and rest 230

Close by her mantling wings' embraces prest.

Long may they float upon this flood serene;

Theirs be these holms untrodden, still, and green,

Where leafy shades fence off the blustering gale,

And breathes in peace the lily of the vale!

Yon isle, which feels not even the milkmaid's feet,

Yet hears her song, "by distance made more sweet,"

Yon isle conceals their home, their hut-like bower;

Green water-rushes overspread the floor;

Long grass and willows form the woven wall, 240

And swings above the roof the poplar tall.

Thence issuing often with unwieldy stalk,

They crush with broad black feet their flowery walk;

Or, from the neighbouring water, hear at morn

The hound, the horse's tread, and mellow horn;

Involve their serpent-necks in changeful rings,

Rolled wantonly between their slippery wings,

Or, starting up with noise and rude delight,

Force half upon the wave their cumbrous flight.

Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys caressed, 250

Haply some wretch has eyed, and called thee blessed;

When with her infants, from some shady seat

By the lake's edge, she rose--to face the noontide heat;

Or taught their limbs along the dusty road

A few short steps to totter with their load.

I see her now, denied to lay her head,

On cold blue nights, in hut or straw-built shed,

Turn to a silent smile their sleepy cry,

By pointing to the gliding moon on high.

--When low-hung clouds each star of summer hide, 260

And fireless are the valleys far and wide,

Where the brook brawls along the public road

Dark with bat-haunted ashes stretching broad,

Oft has she taught them on her lap to lay

The shining glow-worm; or, in heedless play,

Toss it from hand to hand, disquieted;

While others, not unseen, are free to shed

Green unmolested light upon their mossy bed.

Oh! when the sleety showers her path assail,

And like a torrent roars the headstrong gale; 270

No more her breath can thaw their fingers cold,

Their frozen arms her neck no more can fold;

Weak roof a cowering form two babes to shield,

And faint the fire a dying heart can yield!

Press the sad kiss, fond mother! vainly fears

Thy flooded cheek to wet them with its tears;

No tears can chill them, and no bosom warms,

Thy breast their death-bed, coffined in thine arms!

Sweet are the sounds that mingle from afar,

Heard by calm lakes, as peeps the folding star, 280

Where the duck dabbles 'mid the rustling sedge,

And feeding pike starts from the water's edge,

Or the swan stirs the reeds, his neck and bill

Wetting, that drip upon the water still;

And heron, as resounds the trodden shore,

Shoots upward, darting his long neck before.

Now, with religious awe, the farewell light

Blends with the solemn colouring of night;

'Mid groves of clouds that crest the mountain's brow,

And round the west's proud lodge their shadows throw, 290

Like Una shining on her gloomy way,

The half-seen form of Twilight roams astray;

Shedding, through paly loop-holes mild and small,

Gleams that upon the lake's still bosom fall;

Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres pale

Tracking the motions of the fitful gale.

With restless interchange at once the bright

Wins on the shade, the shade upon the light.

No favoured eye was e'er allowed to gaze

On lovelier spectacle in faery days; 300

When gentle Spirits urged a sportive chase,

Brushing with lucid wands the water's face:

While music, stealing round the glimmering deeps,

Charmed the tall circle of the enchanted steeps.

--The lights are vanished from the watery plains:

No wreck of all the pageantry remains.

Unheeded night has overcome the vales:

On the dark earth the wearied vision fails;

The latest lingerer of the forest train,

The lone black fir, forsakes the faded plain; 310

Last evening sight, the cottage smoke, no more,

Lost in the thickened darkness, glimmers hoar;

And, towering from the sullen dark-brown mere,

Like a black wall, the mountain-steeps appear.

--Now o'er the soothed accordant heart we feel

A sympathetic twilight slowly steal,

And ever, as we fondly muse, we find

The soft gloom deepening on the tranquil mind.

Stay! pensive, sadly-pleasing visions, stay!

Ah no! as fades the vale, they fade away: 320

Yet still the tender, vacant gloom remains;

Still the cold cheek its shuddering tear retains.

The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread

Silent the hedge or steamy rivulet's bed,

From his grey re-appearing tower shall soon

Salute with gladsome note the rising moon,

While with a hoary light she frosts the ground,

And pours a deeper blue to Aether's bound;

Pleased, as she moves, her pomp of clouds to fold

In robes of azure, fleecy-white, and gold. 330

Above yon eastern hill, where darkness broods

O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and woods;

Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace,

Even now she shews, half-veiled, her lovely face:

Across the gloomy valley flings her light,

Far to the western slopes with hamlets white;

And gives, where woods the chequered upland strew,

To the green corn of summer, autumn's hue.

Thus Hope, first pouring from her blessed horn

Her dawn, far lovelier than the moon's own morn, 340

Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer

The weary hills, impervious, blackening near;

Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the while

On darling spots remote her tempting smile.

Even now she decks for me a distant scene,

(For dark and broad the gulf of time between)

Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray,

(Sole bourn, sole wish, sole object of my way;

How fair its lawns and sheltering woods appear!

How sweet its streamlet murmurs in mine ear!) 350

Where we, my Friend, to happy days shall rise,

Till our small share of hardly-paining sighs

(For sighs will ever trouble human breath)

Creep hushed into the tranquil breast of death.

But now the clear bright Moon her zenith gains,

And, rimy without speck, extend the plains:

The deepest cleft the mountain's front displays

Scarce hides a shadow from her searching rays;

From the dark-blue faint silvery threads divide

The hills, while gleams below the azure tide; 360

Time softly treads; throughout the landscape breathes

A peace enlivened, not disturbed, by wreaths

Of charcoal-smoke, that o'er the fallen wood,

Steal down the hill, and spread along the flood.

The song of mountain-streams, unheard by day,

Now hardly heard, beguiles my homeward way.

Air listens, like the sleeping water, still,

To catch the spiritual music of the hill,

Broke only by the slow clock tolling deep,

Or shout that wakes the ferry-man from sleep, 370

The echoed hoof nearing the distant shore,

The boat's first motion--made with dashing oar;

Sound of closed gate, across the water borne,

Hurrying the timid hare through rustling corn;

The sportive outcry of the mocking owl;

And at long intervals the mill-dog's howl;

The distant forge's swinging thump profound;

Or yell, in the deep woods, of lonely hound.

1789.

LINES WRITTEN WHILE SAILING IN A BOAT AT EVENING

HOW richly glows the water's breast

Before us, tinged with evening hues,

While, facing thus the crimson west,

The boat her silent course pursues!

And see how dark the backward stream!

A little moment past so smiling!

And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,

Some other loiterers beguiling.

Such views the youthful Bard allure;

But, heedless of the following gloom, 10

He deems their colours shall endure

Till peace go with him to the tomb.

--And let him nurse his fond deceit,

And what if he must die in sorrow!

Who would not cherish dreams so sweet,

Though grief and pain may come to-morrow?

1791 & 1792.

REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS

COMPOSED UPON THE THAMES NEAR RICHMOND

GLIDE gently, thus for ever glide,

O Thames! that other bards may see

As lovely visions by thy side

As now, fair river! come to me.

O glide, fair stream! for ever so,

Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,

Till all our minds for ever flow

As thy deep waters now are flowing.

Vain thought!--Yet be as now thou art,

That in thy waters may be seen 10

The image of a poet's heart,

How bright, how solemn, how serene!

Such as did once the Poet bless,

Who murmuring here a later ditty,

Could find no refuge from distress

But in the milder grief of pity.

Now let us, as we float along,

For 'him' suspend the dashing oar;

And pray that never child of song

May know that Poet's sorrows more. 20

How calm! how still! the only sound,

The dripping of the oar suspended!

--The evening darkness gathers round

By virtue's holiest Powers attended.

1793-94.

DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES

TAKEN DURING A PEDESTRIAN TOUR AMONG THE ALPS

WERE there, below, a spot of holy ground

Where from distress a refuge might be found,

And solitude prepare the soul for heaven;

Sure, nature's God that spot to man had given

Where falls the purple morning far and wide

In flakes of light upon the mountain side;

Where with loud voice the power of water shakes

The leafy wood, or sleeps in quiet lakes.

Yet not unrecompensed the man shall roam,

Who at the call of summer quits his home, 10

And plods through some wide realm o'er vale and height,

Though seeking only holiday delight;

At least, not owning to himself an aim

To which the sage would give a prouder name.

No gains too cheaply earned his fancy cloy,

Though every passing zephyr whispers joy;

Brisk toil, alternating with ready ease,

Feeds the clear current of his sympathies.

For him sod-seats the cottage-door adorn;

And peeps the far-off spire, his evening bourn! 20

Dear is the forest frowning o'er his head,

And dear the velvet green-sward to his tread:

Moves there a cloud o'er mid-day's flaming eye?

Upward he looks--"and calls it luxury:"

Kind Nature's charities his steps attend;

In every babbling brook he finds a friend;

While chastening thoughts of sweetest use, bestowed

By wisdom, moralise his pensive road.

Host of his welcome inn, the noon-tide bower,

To his spare meal he calls the passing poor; 30

He views the sun uplift his golden fire,

Or sink, with heart alive like Memnon's lyre;

Blesses the moon that comes with kindly ray,

To light him shaken by his rugged way.

Back from his sight no bashful children steal;

He sits a brother at the cottage-meal;

His humble looks no shy restraint impart;

Around him plays at will the virgin heart.

While unsuspended wheels the village dance,

The maidens eye him with enquiring glance, 40

Much wondering by what fit of crazing care,

Or desperate love, bewildered, he came there.

A hope, that prudence could not then approve,

That clung to Nature with a truant's love,

O'er Gallia's wastes of corn my footsteps led;

Her files of road-elms, high above my head

In long-drawn vista, rustling in the breeze;

Or where her pathways straggle as they please

By lonely farms and secret villages.

But lo! the Alps ascending white in air, 50

Toy with the sun and glitter from afar.

And now, emerging from the forest's gloom,

I greet thee, Chartreuse, while I mourn thy doom.

Whither is fled that Power whose frown severe

Awed sober Reason till she crouched in fear?

'That' Silence, once in deathlike fetters bound,

Chains that were loosened only by the sound

Of holy rites chanted in measured round?

--The voice of blasphemy the fane alarms,

The cloister startles at the gleam of arms. 60

The thundering tube the aged angler hears,

Bent o'er the groaning flood that sweeps away his tears.

Cloud-piercing pine-trees nod their troubled heads,

Spires, rocks, and lawns a browner night o'erspreads;

Strong terror checks the female peasant's sighs,

And start the astonished shades at female eyes.

From Bruno's forest screams the affrighted jay,

And slow the insulted eagle wheels away.

A viewless flight of laughing Demons mock

The Cross, by angels planted on the aerial rock. 70

The "parting Genius" sighs with hollow breath

Along the mystic streams of Life and Death.

Swelling the outcry dull, that long resounds

Portentous through her old woods' trackless bounds,

Vallombre, 'mid her falling fanes, deplores,

For ever broke, the sabbath of her bowers.

More pleased, my foot the hidden margin roves

Of Como, bosomed deep in chestnut groves.

No meadows thrown between, the giddy steeps

Tower, bare or sylvan, from the narrow deeps. 80

--To towns, whose shades of no rude noise complain,

From ringing team apart and grating wain--

To flat-roofed towns, that touch the water's bound,

Or lurk in woody sunless glens profound,

Or, from the bending rocks, obtrusive cling,

And o'er the whitened wave their shadows fling--

The pathway leads, as round the steeps it twines;

And Silence loves its purple roof of vines.

The loitering traveller hence, at evening, sees

From rock-hewn steps the sail between the trees; 90

Or marks, 'mid opening cliffs, fair dark-eyed maids

Tend the small harvest of their garden glades;

Or stops the solemn mountain-shades to view

Stretch o'er the pictured mirror broad and blue,

And track the yellow lights from steep to steep,

As up the opposing hills they slowly creep.

Aloft, here, half a village shines, arrayed

In golden light; half hides itself in shade:

While, from amid the darkened roofs, the spire,

Restlessly flashing, seems to mount like fire: 100

There, all unshaded, blazing forests throw

Rich golden verdure on the lake below.

Slow glides the sail along the illumined shore,

And steals into the shade the lazy oar;

Soft bosoms breathe around contagious sighs,

And amorous music on the water dies.

How blest, delicious scene! the eye that greets

Thy open beauties, or thy lone retreats;

Beholds the unwearied sweep of wood that scales

Thy cliffs; the endless waters of thy vales; 110

Thy lowly cots that sprinkle all the shore,

Each with its household boat beside the door;

Thy torrents shooting from the clear-blue sky;

Thy towns, that cleave, like swallows' nests, on high;

That glimmer hoar in eve's last light, descried

Dim from the twilight water's shaggy side,

Whence lutes and voices down the enchanted woods

Steal, and compose the oar-forgotten floods;

Thy lake, that, streaked or dappled, blue or grey,

'Mid smoking woods gleams hid from morning's ray 120

Slow-travelling down the western hills, to enfold

Its green-tinged margin in a blaze of gold;

Thy glittering steeples, whence the matin bell

Calls forth the woodman from his desert cell,

And quickens the blithe sound of oars that pass

Along the steaming lake, to early mass.

But now farewell to each and all--adieu

To every charm, and last and chief to you,

Ye lovely maidens that in noontide shade

Rest near your little plots of wheaten glade; 130

To all that binds the soul in powerless trance,

Lip-dewing song, and ringlet-tossing dance;

Where sparkling eyes and breaking smiles illume

The sylvan cabin's lute-enlivened gloom.

--Alas! the very murmur of the streams

Breathes o'er the failing soul voluptuous dreams,

While Slavery, forcing the sunk mind to dwell

On joys that might disgrace the captive's cell,

Her shameless timbrel shakes on Como's marge,

And lures from bay to bay the vocal barge. 140

Yet are thy softer arts with power indued

To soothe and cheer the poor man's solitude.

By silent cottage-doors, the peasant's home

Left vacant for the day, I loved to roam.

But once I pierced the mazes of a wood

In which a cabin undeserted stood;

There an old man an olden measure scanned

On a rude viol touched with withered hand.

As lambs or fawns in April clustering lie

Under a hoary oak's thin canopy, 150

Stretched at his feet, with stedfast upward eye,

His children's children listened to the sound;

--A Hermit with his family around!

But let us hence; for fair Locarno smiles

Embowered in walnut slopes and citron isles:

Or seek at eve the banks of Tusa's stream,

Where, 'mid dim towers and woods, her waters gleam.

From the bright wave, in solemn gloom, retire

The dull-red steeps, and, darkening still, aspire

To where afar rich orange lustres glow 160

Round undistinguished clouds, and rocks, and snow:

Or, led where Via Mala's chasms confine

The indignant waters of the infant Rhine,

Hang o'er the abyss, whose else impervious gloom

His burning eyes with fearful light illume.

The mind condemned, without reprieve, to go

O'er life's long deserts with its charge of woe,

With sad congratulation joins the train

Where beasts and men together o'er the plain

Move on--a mighty caravan of pain: 170

Hope, strength, and courage, social suffering brings,

Freshening the wilderness with shades and springs.

--There be whose lot far otherwise is cast:

Sole human tenant of the piny waste,

By choice or doom a gipsy wanders here,

A nursling babe her only comforter;

Lo, where she sits beneath yon shaggy rock,

A cowering shape half hid in curling smoke!

When lightning among clouds and mountain-snows

Predominates, and darkness comes and goes, 180

And the fierce torrent, at the flashes broad

Starts, like a horse, beside the glaring road--

She seeks a covert from the battering shower

In the roofed bridge; a the bridge, ill that dread hour,

Itself all trembling at the torrent's power.

Nor is she more at ease on some 'still' night,

When not a star supplies the comfort of its light;

Only the waning moon hangs dull and red

Above a melancholy mountain's head,

Then sets. In total gloom the Vagrant sighs, 190

Stoops her sick head, and shuts her weary eyes;

Or on her fingers counts the distant clock,

Or, to the drowsy crow of midnight cock,

Listens, or quakes while from the forest's gulf

Howls near and nearer yet the famished wolf.

From the green vale of Urseren smooth and wide

Descend we now, the maddened Reuss our guide;

By rocks that, shutting out the blessed day,

Cling tremblingly to rocks as loose as they;

By cells upon whose image, while he prays, 200

The kneeling peasant scarcely dares to gaze;

By many a votive death-cross planted near,

And watered duly with the pious tear,

That faded silent from the upward eye

Unmoved with each rude form of peril nigh;

Fixed on the anchor left by Him who saves

Alike in whelming snows, and roaring waves.

But soon a peopled region on the sight

Opens--a little world of calm delight;

Where mists, suspended on the expiring gale, 210

Spread rooflike o'er the deep secluded vale,

And beams of evening slipping in between,

Gently illuminate a sober scene:--

Here, on the brown wood-cottages they sleep,

There, over rock or sloping pasture creep.

On as we journey, in clear view displayed,

The still vale lengthens underneath its shade

Of low-hung vapour: on the freshened mead

The green light sparkles;--the dim bowers recede.

While pastoral pipes and streams the landscape lull, 220

And bells of passing mules that tinkle dull,

In solemn shapes before the admiring eye

Dilated hang the misty pines on high,

Huge convent domes with pinnacles and towers,

And antique castles seen through gleamy showers.

From such romantic dreams, my soul, awake!

To sterner pleasure, where, by Uri's lake

In Nature's pristine majesty outspread,

Winds neither road nor path for foot to tread:

The rocks rise naked as a wall, or stretch 230

Far o'er the water, hung with groves of beech;

Aerial pines from loftier steeps ascend,

Nor stop but where creation seems to end.

Yet here and there, if mid the savage scene

Appears a scanty plot of smiling green,

Up from the lake a zigzag path will creep

To reach a small wood-hut hung boldly on the steep,

--Before those thresholds (never can they know

The face of traveller passing to and fro,)

No peasant leans upon his pole, to tell 240

For whom at morning tolled the funeral bell;

Their watch-dog ne'er his angry bark foregoes,

Touched by the beggar's moan of human woes;

The shady porch ne'er offered a cool seat

To pilgrims overcome by summer's heat.

Yet thither the world's business finds its way

At times, and tales unsought beguile the day,

And 'there' are those fond thoughts which Solitude,

However stern, is powerless to exclude.

There doth the maiden watch her lover's sail 250

Approaching, and upbraid the tardy gale;

At midnight listens till his parting oar,

And its last echo, can be heard no more.

And what if ospreys, cormorants, herons, cry

Amid tempestuous vapours driving by,

Or hovering over wastes too bleak to rear

That common growth of earth, the foodful ear;

Where the green apple shrivels on the spray,

And pines the unripened pear in summer's kindliest ray;

Contentment shares the desolate domain 260

With Independence, child of high Disdain.

Exulting 'mid the winter of the skies,

Shy as the jealous chamois, Freedom flies,

And grasps by fits her sword, and often eyes;

And sometimes, as from rock to rock she bounds

The Patriot nymph starts at imagined sounds,

And, wildly pausing, oft she hangs aghast,

Whether some old Swiss air hath checked her haste

Or thrill of Spartan fife is caught between the blast.

Swoln with incessant rains from hour to hour, 270

All day the floods a deepening murmur pour:

The sky is veiled, and every cheerful sight:

Dark is the region as with coming night;

But what a sudden burst of overpowering light!