Volume 6 — 1818
Reading edition
Still fewer than those of 1817 are the poems composed in 1818. They comprise The Pilgrim's Dream, The five Inscriptions, supposed to be found in and near a Hermit's Cell, and the stanzas Composed upon an Evening of extraordinary Splendour and Beauty, etc. They were all written at or near Rydal Mount; and their local allusions are all Rydalian.
THE PILGRIM'S DREAM;
Or, the Star and the Glow-worm
Composed 1818.—Published 1820
[I distinctly recollect the evening when these verses were suggested in 1818. It was on the road between Rydal and Grasmere, where Glow-worms abound.[DB] A Star was shining above the ridge of Loughrigg Fell, just opposite. I remember a critic, in some review or other, crying out against this piece. "What so monstrous," said he, "as to make a star talk to a glow-worm!" Poor fellow! we know from this sage observation what the "primrose on the river's brim" was to him.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.
A pilgrim, when the summer day Had closed upon his weary way, A lodging begged beneath a castle's roof; But him the haughty Warder spurned; 5 And from the gate the Pilgrim turned,[302] To seek such covert as the field Or heath-besprinkled copse might yield, Or lofty[303] wood, shower-proof. He paced along; and, pensively, 10 Halting beneath a shady tree, Whose moss-grown root might serve for couch or seat, Fixed on a Star his upward eye; Then, from the tenant of the sky He turned, and watched with kindred look, 15 A Glow-worm, in a dusky nook, Apparent at his feet. The murmur of a neighbouring stream Induced a soft and slumbrous dream, A pregnant dream, within whose shadowy bounds 20 He recognised the earth-born Star, And That which glittered from afar;[304] And (strange to witness!) from the frame Of the ethereal Orb, there came Intelligible sounds. 25 Much did it taunt the humble Light[305] That now, when day was fled, and night Hushed the dark earth, fast closing weary eyes,[306] A very reptile could presume To show her taper in the gloom, 30 As if in rivalship with One Who sate a ruler on his throne Erected in the skies. "Exalted Star!" the Worm replied, "Abate this unbecoming pride, 35 Or with a less uneasy lustre shine; Thou shrink'st as momently thy rays Are mastered by the breathing haze; While neither mist, nor thickest cloud That shapes in heaven its murky shroud, 40 Hath power to injure mine. But[307] not for this do I aspire To match the spark of local fire, That at my will burns on the dewy lawn, With thy acknowledged glories;—No! 45 Yet, thus upbraided, I may show[308] What favours do attend me here, Till, like thyself, I disappear Before the purple dawn." When this in modest guise was said, 50 Across the welkin seemed to spread A boding sound—for aught but sleep unfit! Hills quaked, the rivers backward ran; That Star, so proud of late, looked wan; And reeled with visionary stir 55 In the blue depth, like Lucifer Cast headlong to the pit! Cast headlong to the pit! Fire raged: and, when the spangled floor Of ancient ether was no more, New heavens succeeded, by the dream brought forth: 60 And all the happy Souls that rode Transfigured through that fresh[309] abode Had heretofore, in humble trust, Shone meekly 'mid their native dust, The Glow-worms of the earth! 65 This knowledge, from an Angel's voice Proceeding, made the heart rejoice Of Him who slept upon the open lea: Waking at morn he murmured not; And, till life's journey closed, the spot 70 Was to the Pilgrim's soul endeared, Where by that[310] dream he had been cheered Beneath the shady tree.
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FOOTNOTE:
INSCRIPTIONS SUPPOSED TO BE FOUND IN AND NEAR A HERMIT'S CELL
1818
Composed 1818.—Published 1820
The five poems which follow were placed among the "Inscriptions," from 1820 onwards.—Ed.
I
"Hopes, what are they?—Beads of Morning"
Hopes, what are they?—Beads of morning Strung on slender[311] blades of grass; Or a spider's web adorning In a strait and treacherous pass.[312] 5 What are fears but voices airy? Whispering harm[313] where harm is not; And deluding the unwary[314] Till the fatal bolt is shot! What is glory?—in the socket 10 See how dying tapers fare! What is pride?—a whizzing rocket That would emulate a star. What is friendship?—do not trust her, Nor the vows which she has made; 15 Diamonds dart their brightest lustre From a palsy-shaken head. What is truth?—a staff rejected;[315] Duty?—an unwelcome clog; Joy?—a moon by fits reflected[316] 20 In a swamp or watery bog;[317] Bright, as if through ether steering,[318] To the Traveller's eye it shone: He hath hailed it re-appearing— And as quickly it is gone; 25 Such is Joy—as quickly hidden,[319] Or mis-shapen to the sight, And by sullen weeds forbidden To resume its native light.[320] What is youth?—a dancing billow, 30 (Winds behind, and rocks before!)[321] Age?—a drooping, tottering willow On a flat and lazy shore.[322] What is peace?—when pain is over, And love ceases to rebel, 35 Let the last faint sigh discover That precedes the passing knell!
Compare Carlyle's Cui Bono—
What is Hope? A smiling rainbow Children follow through the wet; 'Tis not here, still yonder, yonder: Never urchin found it yet. What is Life? A thawing iceboard On a sea with sunny shore;— Gay we sail; it melts beneath us; We are sunk, and seen no more. What is Man? A foolish baby, Vainly strives, and fights, and frets; Demanding all, deserving nothing;— One small grave is what he gets.
See his Miscellaneous Essays, vol. i. p. 352 (edition 1857).—Ed.
II
Inscribed upon a Rock
[The monument of ice here spoken of I observed while ascending the middle road of the three ways that lead from Rydal to Grasmere.[DC] It was on my right hand, and my eyes were upon it when it fell, as told in these lines.—I. F.]
Pause, Traveller! whosoe'er thou be Whom chance may lead to this retreat, Where silence yields reluctantly Even to the fleecy straggler's bleat; 5 Give voice to what my hand shall trace, And fear not lest an idle sound Of words unsuited to the place Disturb its solitude profound. I saw this Rock, while vernal air 10 Blew softly o'er the russet heath, Uphold a Monument as fair As church or abbey furnisheth. Unsullied did it meet the day, Like marble, white, like ether, pure; 15 As if, beneath, some hero lay, Honoured with costliest sepulture. My fancy kindled as I gazed; And, ever as the sun shone forth, The flattered structure glistened, blazed, 20 And seemed the proudest thing on earth. But frost had reared the gorgeous Pile Unsound as those which Fortune builds— To undermine with secret guile, Sapped by the very beam that gilds. 25 And, while I gazed, with sudden shock Fell the whole Fabric to the ground; And naked left this dripping Rock, With shapeless ruin spread around!
III
"Hast thou seen, with Flash incessant"
[Where the second quarry now is, as you pass from Rydal to Grasmere, there was formerly a length of smooth rock that sloped towards the road on the right hand. I used to call it Tadpole Slope, from having frequently observed there the water-bubbles gliding under the ice, exactly in the shape of that creature.—I. F.]
Hast thou seen, with flash incessant,[323] Bubbles gliding under ice, Bodied forth and evanescent, No one knows by what device? 5 Such are thoughts!—a wind-swept meadow[324] Mimicking a troubled sea, Such is life; and death a shadow From the rock eternity![325]
IV
Near the Spring of the Hermitage
Troubled long with warring notions Long impatient of thy rod, I resign my soul's emotions Unto Thee, mysterious God! 5 What avails the kindly shelter Yielded by this craggy rent, If my spirit toss and welter On the waves of discontent? Parching Summer hath no warrant 10 To consume this crystal Well; Rains, that make each rill a torrent, Neither sully it nor swell. Thus, dishonouring not her station, Would my Life present to Thee, 15 Gracious God, the pure oblation Of divine tranquillity!
It is impossible to say where the "spring of the Hermitage" was, or was supposed by Wordsworth to be. It may refer to some Rydalian retreat. There is no spring or "crystal well" on St. Herbert's Island, Derwentwater; but Inscription XIII. in the edition of 1820 is entitled "For the Spot where the Hermitage stood on St. Herbert's Island, Derwentwater."—Ed.
V
"Not seldom, clad in Radiant Vest"
Not seldom, clad in radiant vest, Deceitfully goes forth the Morn; Not seldom Evening in the west Sinks smilingly forsworn. 5 The smoothest seas will sometimes prove, To the confiding Bark, untrue; And, if she trust the stars above, They can be treacherous too. The umbrageous Oak, in pomp outspread, 10 Full oft, when storms the welkin rend, Draws lightning down upon the head It promised to defend. But Thou art true, incarnate Lord, Who didst vouchsafe for man to die; 15 Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word No change can falsify! I bent before thy gracious throne, And asked for peace on suppliant knee;[326] And peace was given,—nor peace alone, 20 But faith sublimed to ecstasy![327]
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FOOTNOTE:
COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY SPLENDOUR AND BEAUTY[DD]
Composed 1818.—Published 1820
[Felt, and in a great measure composed, upon the little mount in front of our abode at Rydal. In concluding my notices of this class of poems, it may be as well to observe that among the "Miscellaneous Sonnets" are a few alluding to morning impressions, which might be read with mutual benefit, in connection with these "Evening Voluntaries." See, for example, that one on Westminster Bridge, that composed on a May Morning, the one on the Song of the Thrush, and that beginning—"While beams of orient light shoot wide and high."—I. F.]
In 1820 this was one of the "Poems of the Imagination." In 1837 it was transferred to the "Evening Voluntaries."—Ed.
I
Had this effulgence disappeared With flying haste, I might have sent, Among the speechless clouds, a look Of blank astonishment; 5 But 'tis endued with power to stay, And sanctify[328] one closing day, That frail Mortality may see— What is?—ah no, but what can be! Time was when field and watery cove 10 With modulated echoes rang, While choirs of fervent Angels sang Their vespers in the grove;[329] Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign height,[330] Warbled, for heaven above and earth below, 15 Strains, suitable to both.—Such holy rite, Methinks, if audibly repeated now From hill or valley, could not move[331] Sublimer transport, purer[332] love, Than doth this silent spectacle—the gleam— 20 The shadow—and the peace supreme!
II
No sound is uttered,—but a deep[333] And solemn harmony pervades The hollow vale from steep to steep, And penetrates the glades. 25 Far-distant images draw nigh, Called forth by wondrous potency Of beamy radiance, that imbues Whate'er it strikes, with gem-like hues! In vision exquisitely clear, 30 Herds range[334] along the mountain side; And glistening antlers are descried;[DE] And gilded flocks appear. Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve! But long as god-like wish, or hope divine, 35 Informs my spirit, ne'er can I believe That this magnificence is wholly thine! —From worlds not quickened[335] by the sun[DF] A portion of the gift is won; An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread 40 On ground which British shepherds tread!
III
And, if there be whom broken ties[336] Afflict, or injuries assail, Yon hazy ridges to their eyes Present a glorious scale,[DG] 45 Climbing suffused with sunny air, To stop—no record hath told where! And tempting Fancy to ascend, And with immortal Spirits blend![337] —Wings at my shoulders[338] seem to play;[DH] 50 But, rooted here, I stand and gaze On those bright steps that heaven-ward raise[339] Their practicable way. Come forth, ye drooping[340] old men, look abroad, And see to what fair countries ye are bound! 55 And if some traveller, weary of his road, Hath slept since noontide on the grassy ground, Ye Genii! to his covert speed;[341] And wake him with such gentle heed[342] As may attune his soul to meet the dower 60 Bestowed on this transcendent hour!
IV
Such hues from their celestial Urn Were wont to stream before mine eye,[343] Where'er it[344] wandered in the morn Of blissful infancy.[DI] 65 This glimpse of glory, why renewed? Nay, rather speak with[345] gratitude; For, if a vestige of those gleams Survived, 'twas only in my dreams. Dread Power! whom peace and calmness serve 70 No less than Nature's threatening voice,[346] If aught unworthy be my choice, From Thee if I would swerve; Oh, let thy grace remind me of the light Full early lost, and fruitlessly deplored; 75 Which, at this moment, on my waking sight Appears to shine, by miracle restored; My soul, though yet confined to earth, Rejoices in a second birth! —'Tis past, the visionary splendour fades; 80 And night approaches with her shades.
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