Part 3 — 1829
Reading edition
The Poems of 1829 were few; and were, for the most part, suggested by incidents or occurrences at Rydal Mount.—Ed.
GOLD AND SILVER FISHES IN A VASE
Composed 1829.—Published 1835
[They were a present from Miss Jewsbury, of whom mention is made in the note at the end of the next poem. The fish were healthy to all appearance in their confinement for a long time, but at last, for some cause we could not make out, they languished, and, one of them being all but dead, they were taken to the pool under the old pollard-oak. The apparently dying one lay on its side unable to move. I used to watch it, and about the tenth day it began to right itself, and in a few days more was able to swim about with its companions. For many months they continued to prosper in their new place of abode; but one night by an unusually great flood they were swept out of the pool, and perished to our great regret.—I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Poems."—Ed.
The soaring lark is blest as proud When at heaven's gate she sings;[597] The roving bee proclaims aloud Her flight by vocal wings; While Ye, in lasting durance pent, 5 Your silent lives employ For something more than dull content, Though haply less than joy.[598] Yet might your glassy prison seem A place where joy is known, 10 Where golden flash and silver gleam Have meanings of their own; While, high and low, and all about, Your motions, glittering Elves! Ye weave—no danger from without, 15 And peace among yourselves. Type of a sunny human breast Is your transparent cell; Where Fear is but a transient guest, No sullen Humours dwell; 20 Where, sensitive of every ray That smites this tiny sea, Your scaly panoplies repay The loan with usury. How beautiful!—Yet none knows why 25 This ever-graceful change, Renewed—renewed incessantly— Within your quiet range. Is it that ye with conscious skill For mutual pleasure glide; 30 And sometimes, not without your will, Are dwarfed, or magnified? Fays, Genii of gigantic size! And now, in twilight dim, Clustering like constellated eyes, 35 In wings of Cherubim, When the fierce orbs abate their glare;—[599] Whate'er your forms express, Whate'er ye seem, whate'er ye are— All leads to gentleness. 40 Cold though your nature be, 'tis pure; Your birthright is a fence From all that haughtier kinds endure Through tyranny of sense. Ah! not alone by colours bright 45 Are Ye to heaven allied, When, like essential Forms of light, Ye mingle, or divide. For day-dreams soft as e'er beguiled Day-thoughts while limbs repose; 50 For moonlight fascinations mild, Your gift, ere shutters close— Accept, mute Captives! thanks and praise; And may this tribute prove That gentle admirations raise 55 Delight resembling love.
FOOTNOTES:
LIBERTY (SEQUEL TO THE ABOVE)[600]
[ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND; THE GOLD AND SILVER FISHES HAVING BEEN REMOVED TO A POOL IN THE PLEASURE-GROUND OF RYDAL MOUNT.]
Composed 1829.—Published 1835
"The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made for themselves, under whatever form it be of government. The liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country. Of this latter we are here to discourse."—Cowley.
One of the "Miscellaneous Poems."—Ed.
Those breathing Tokens of your kind regard, (Suspect not, Anna,[601] that their fate is hard; Not soon does aught to which mild fancies cling In lonely spots, become a slighted thing;) Those silent Inmates now no longer share, 5 Nor do they need, our hospitable care, Removed in kindness from their glassy Cell To the fresh waters of a living Well—[602] An elfin pool so sheltered that its rest No winds disturb;[603] the mirror of whose breast 10 Is smooth as clear, save where with dimples small[604] A fly may settle, or a blossom fall.[605] —There swims, of blazing sun and beating shower Fearless (but how obscured!) the golden Power, That from his bauble prison used to cast 15 Gleams by the richest jewel unsurpast; And near him, darkling like a sullen Gnome, The silver Tenant of the crystal dome; Dissevered both from all the mysteries Of hue and altering shape that charmed all eyes. 20 Alas! they pined,[606] they languished while they shone; And, if not so, what matters beauty gone And admiration lost, by change of place That brings to the inward creature no disgrace? But if the change restore his birth-right, then, 25 Whate'er the difference, boundless is the gain. Who can divine what impulses from God Reach the caged lark, within a town-abode, From his poor inch or two of daisied sod? O yield him back his privilege!—No sea 30 Swells like the bosom of a man set free; A wilderness is rich with liberty. Roll on, ye spouting whales, who die or keep Your independence in the fathomless Deep! Spread, tiny nautilus, the living sail; 35 Dive, at thy choice, or brave the freshening gale! If unreproved the ambitious eagle mount Sunward to seek the daylight in its fount,[607] Bays, gulfs, and ocean's Indian width, shall be, Till the world perishes, a field for thee! 40 While musing here I sit in shadow cool, And watch these mute Companions, in the pool, (Among reflected boughs of leafy trees) By glimpses caught—disporting at their ease, Enlivened, braced, by hardy luxuries, 45 I ask what warrant fixed them (like a spell Of witchcraft fixed them) in the crystal cell; To wheel with languid motion round and round, Beautiful, yet in mournful durance bound. Their peace, perhaps, our lightest footfall marred; 50 On their quick sense our sweetest music jarred; And whither could they dart, if seized with fear? No sheltering stone, no tangled root was near. When fire or taper ceased to cheer the room, They wore away the night in starless gloom; 55 And, when the sun first dawned upon the streams, How faint their portion of his vital beams! Thus, and unable to complain, they fared, While not one joy of ours by them was shared. Is there a cherished bird (I venture now 60 To snatch a sprig from Chaucer's reverend brow)—[608] Is there a brilliant fondling of the cage, Though sure of plaudits on his costly stage, Though fed with dainties from the snow-white hand Of a kind mistress, fairest of the land, 65 But gladly would escape; and, if need were, Scatter the colours from the plumes that bear The emancipated captive through blithe air Into strange woods, where he at large may live On best or worst which they and Nature give? 70 The beetle loves his unpretending track, The snail the house he carries on his back; The far-fetched worm with pleasure would disown The bed we give him, though of softest down; A noble instinct; in all kinds the same, 75 All ranks! What Sovereign, worthy of the name, If doomed to breathe against his lawful will An element that flatters him—to kill, But would rejoice to barter outward show For the least boon that freedom can bestow? 80 But most the Bard is true to inborn right, Lark of the dawn, and Philomel of night, Exults in freedom, can with rapture vouch For the dear blessings of a lowly couch, 84 A natural meal—days, months, from Nature's hand; Time, place, and business, all at his command!— Who bends to happier duties, who more wise Than the industrious Poet, taught to prize, Above all grandeur, a pure life uncrossed By cares in which simplicity is lost? 90 That life—the flowery path that[609] winds by stealth— Which Horace needed for his spirit's health;[610] Sighed for, in heart and genius, overcome By noise and strife, and questions wearisome, And the vain splendours of Imperial Rome?—[611] 95 Let easy mirth his social hours inspire, And fiction animate his sportive lyre, Attuned to verse that, crowning light Distress With garlands, cheats her into happiness; Give me the humblest note of those sad strains 100 Drawn forth by pressure of his gilded chains, As a chance-sunbeam from his memory fell Upon the Sabine farm he loved so well;[612] Or when the prattle of Blandusia's spring[613] Haunted his ear—he only listening— 105 He proud to please, above all rivals, fit To win the palm of gaiety and wit; He, doubt not, with involuntary dread, Shrinking from each new favour to be shed, By the world's Ruler, on his honoured head! 110 In a deep vision's intellectual scene, Such earnest longings and regrets as keen Depressed the melancholy Cowley, laid Under a fancied yew-tree's luckless shade; A doleful bower for penitential song, 115 Where Man and Muse complained of mutual wrong; While Cam's ideal current glided by, And antique towers nodded their foreheads high, Citadels dear to studious privacy. But Fortune, who had long been used to sport 120 With this tried Servant of a thankless Court, Relenting met his wishes; and to you The remnant of his days at least was true; You, whom, though long deserted, he loved best; You, Muses, books, fields, liberty, and rest![614] 125 Far[615] happier they who, fixing hope and aim On the humanities of peaceful fame, Enter betimes with more than martial fire The generous course, aspire, and still aspire; Upheld by warnings heeded not too late 130 Stifle the contradictions of their fate, And to one purpose cleave, their Being's godlike mate! Thus, gifted Friend, but with the placid brow That woman ne'er should forfeit, keep thy vow; With modest scorn reject whate'er would blind 135 The ethereal eyesight, cramp the wingèd mind! Then, with a blessing granted from above To every act, word, thought, and look of love, Life's book for Thee may lie unclosed, till age Shall with a thankful tear bedrop its latest page.[616] 140
FOOTNOTES:
HUMANITY[618]
Composed 1829.—Published 1835
Not from his fellows only man may learn Rights to compare and duties to discern: All creatures and all objects, in degree, Are friends and patrons of humanity.—MS. 1835.
The Rocking-stones, alluded to in the beginning of the following verses, are supposed to have been used, by our British ancestors, both for judicial and religious purposes. Such stones are not uncommonly found, at this day, both in Great Britain and in Ireland.—W. W. 1835.
[These verses and those entitled "Liberty" were composed as one piece, which Mrs. Wordsworth complained of as unwieldy and ill-proportioned; and accordingly it was divided into two, on her judicious recommendation.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."—Ed.
What though the Accused, upon his own appeal To righteous Gods when man has ceased to feel, Or at a doubting Judge's stern command, Before the Stone of Power no longer stand— To take his sentence from the balanced Block, 5 As, at his touch, it rocks, or seems to rock;[619] Though, in the depths of sunless groves, no more The Druid-priest the hallowed Oak adore; Yet, for the Initiate, rocks and whispering trees Do still perform mysterious offices! 10 And functions dwell in beast and bird that sway The reasoning mind, or with the fancy play, Inviting, at all seasons, ears and eyes To watch for undelusive auguries:—[620] Not uninspired appear their simplest ways; 15 Their voices mount symbolical of praise— To mix with hymns that Spirits make and hear; And to fallen man their innocence is dear. Enraptured Art draws from those sacred springs Streams that reflect the poetry of things! 20 Where christian Martyrs stand in hues portrayed, That, might a wish avail, would never fade, Borne in their hands the lily and the palm Shed round the altar a celestial calm; There, too, behold the lamb and guileless dove 25 Prest in the tenderness of virgin love To saintly bosoms!—Glorious in the blending Of right affections climbing or descending Along a scale of light and life, with cares Alternate; carrying holy thoughts and prayers 30 Up to the sovereign seat of the Most High; Descending to the worm in charity;[621] Like those good Angels whom a dream of night Gave, in the field of Luz, to Jacob's sight[622] All, while he slept, treading the pendent stairs 35 Earthward or heavenward, radiant messengers, That, with a perfect will in one accord Of strict obedience, serve[623] the Almighty Lord; And with untired humility forbore To speed their errand by[624] the wings they wore. 40 What a fair world were ours for verse to paint, If Power could live at ease with self-restraint! Opinion bow before the naked sense Of the great Vision,—faith in Providence; Merciful over all his creatures, just[625] 45 To the least particle of sentient dust;[626] But,[627] fixing by immutable decrees, Seedtime and harvest for his purposes! Then would be closed the restless oblique eye That looks for evil like a treacherous spy; 50 Disputes would then relax, like stormy winds That into breezes sink; impetuous minds By discipline endeavour to grow meek As Truth herself, whom they profess to seek. Then Genius, shunning fellowship with Pride, 55 Would braid his golden locks at Wisdom's side; Love ebb and flow untroubled by caprice; And not alone harsh tyranny would cease, But unoffending creatures find release From qualified oppression, whose defence 60 Rests on a hollow plea of recompense; Thought-tempered wrongs, for each humane respect Oft worse to bear, or deadlier in effect. Witness those glances of indignant scorn From some high-minded Slave, impelled to spurn 65 The kindness that would make him less forlorn; Or, if the soul to bondage be subdued, His look of pitiable gratitude! Alas for thee, bright Galaxy of Isles, Whose[628] day departs in pomp, returns with smiles— To greet the flowers and fruitage of a land, 71 As the sun mounts, by sea-born breezes fanned; A land whose azure mountain-tops are seats For Gods in council, whose green vales, retreats Fit for the shades of heroes, mingling there 75 To breathe Elysian peace in upper air. Though cold as winter, gloomy as the grave, Stone-walls a prisoner make, but not a slave.[629] Shall man assume a property in man? Lay on the moral will a withering ban? 80 Shame that our laws at distance still protect[630] Enormities, which they at home reject! "Slaves cannot breathe in England"[631]—yet that boast Is but a mockery! when[632] from coast to coast, Though fettered slave be none, her floors and soil 85 Groan underneath a weight of slavish toil, For the poor Many, measured out by rules Fetched with cupidity from heartless schools, That to an Idol, falsely called[633] "the Wealth Of Nations,"[634] sacrifice a People's health, 90 Body and mind and soul; a thirst so keen[635] Is ever urging on the vast machine Of sleepless Labour, 'mid whose dizzy wheels The Power least prized is that which thinks and feels. Then, for the pastimes of this delicate age, 95 And all the heavy or light vassalage Which for their sakes we fasten, as may suit Our varying moods, on human kind or brute, 'Twere well in little, as in great, to pause, Lest Fancy trifle with eternal laws. 100 Not from his fellows only man may learn Rights to compare and duties to discern! All creatures and all objects, in degree, Are friends and patrons of humanity. There are to whom the[636] garden, grove, and field, 105 Perpetual lessons of forbearance yield; Who would not lightly violate the grace The lowliest flower possesses in its place; Nor shorten the sweet life, too fugitive, 109 Which nothing less than Infinite Power could give.[637]
FOOTNOTES:
"THIS LAWN, A CARPET ALL ALIVE"
Composed 1829.—Published 1835
[This Lawn is the sloping one approaching the kitchen-garden, and was made out of it. Hundreds of times have I watched the dancing of shadows amid a press of sunshine, and other beautiful appearances of light and shade, flowers and shrubs. What a contrast between this and the cabbages and onions and carrots that used to grow there on a piece of ugly-shaped unsightly ground! No reflection, however, either upon cabbages or onions; the latter we know were worshipped by the Egyptians, and he must have a poor eye for beauty who has not observed how much of it there is in the form and colour which cabbages and plants of that genus exhibit through the various stages of their growth and decay. A richer display of colour in vegetable nature can scarcely be conceived than Coleridge, my sister, and I saw in a bed of potato-plants in blossom near a hut upon the moor between Inversneyd and Loch Katrine.[638] These blossoms were of such extraordinary beauty and richness that no one could have passed them without notice. But the sense must be cultivated through the mind before we can perceive these inexhaustible treasures of Nature, for such they really are, without the least necessary reference to the utility of her productions, or even to the laws whereupon, as we learn by research, they are dependent. Some are of opinion that the habit of analysing, decomposing, and anatomising, is inevitably unfavourable to the perception of beauty. People are led into this mistake by overlooking the fact that such processes being to a certain extent within the reach of a limited intellect, we are apt to ascribe to them that insensibility of which they are in truth the effect and not the cause. Admiration and love, to which all knowledge truly vital must tend, are felt by men of real genius in proportion as their discoveries in natural Philosophy are enlarged; and the beauty in form of a plant or an animal is not made less but more apparent as a whole by more accurate insight into its constituent properties and powers. A Savant who is not also a poet in soul and a religionist in heart is a feeble and unhappy creature.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."—Ed.
This Lawn, a carpet all alive With shadows flung from leaves—to strive In dance, amid a press Of sunshine, an apt emblem yields Of Worldlings revelling in the fields 5 Of strenuous idleness;[639] Less quick the stir when tide and breeze Encounter, and to narrow seas Forbid a moment's rest; The medley less when boreal Lights 10 Glance to and fro, like aery Sprites To feats of arms addrest! Yet, spite of all this eager strife, This ceaseless play, the genuine life That serves the stedfast hours, 15 Is in the grass beneath, that grows Unheeded, and the mute repose Of sweetly-breathing flowers.
FOOTNOTES:
THOUGHTS[640] ON THE SEASONS
Composed 1829.—Published 1835
[Written at Rydal Mount.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."—Ed.
Flattered with promise of escape From every hurtful blast, Spring takes, O sprightly May! thy shape, Her loveliest and her last.[641] Less fair is summer riding high 5 In fierce solstitial power, Less fair than when a lenient sky Brings on her parting hour. When earth repays with golden sheaves The labours of the plough, 10 And ripening fruits and forest leaves All brighten on the bough; What pensive beauty autumn shows, Before she hears the sound Of winter rushing in, to close 15 The emblematic round! Such be our Spring, our Summer such; So may our Autumn blend With hoary Winter, and Life touch, Through heaven-born hope, her end! 20
FOOTNOTES:
A TRADITION OF OKER HILL IN DARLEY DALE, DERBYSHIRE[642]
Composed 1829.—Published 1829[643]
[This pleasing tradition was told me by the coachman at whose side I sate while he drove down the dale, he pointing to the trees on the hill as he related the story.—I.F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
'Tis said that to the brow of yon fair hill Two Brothers clomb, and, turning face from face, Nor one look more exchanging, grief to still Or feed, each planted on that lofty place A chosen Tree;[644] then, eager to fulfil 5 Their courses, like two new-born rivers, they In opposite directions urged their way Down from the far-seen mount. No blast might kill Or blight that fond memorial;—the trees grew, And now entwine their arms; but ne'er again 10 Embraced those Brothers upon earth's wide plain; Nor aught of mutual joy or sorrow knew Until their spirits mingled in the sea That to itself takes all, Eternity.
FOOTNOTES:
FILIAL PIETY
(ON THE WAYSIDE BETWEEN PRESTON AND LIVERPOOL)
Composed 1829 (probably).—Published 1832
[This was also communicated to me by a coachman in the same way.[645] In the course of my many coach rambles and journeys, which, during the day-time always, and often in the night, were taken on the outside of the coach, I had good and frequent opportunities of learning the characteristics of this class of men. One remark I made that is worth recording; that whenever I had occasion especially to notice their well-ordered, respectful and kind behaviour to women, of whatever age, I found them, I may say almost always, to be married men.—I.F.]
This happened near Ormskirk. Thomas Scarisbrick was killed by a flash of lightning, whilst building a turf-stack in 1799. His son James completed the work, and kept it intact during his life-time. James was buried April 21st, 1824. Wordsworth was therefore wrong as to the "fifty winters."—Ed.
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Untouched through all severity of cold; Inviolate, whate'er the cottage hearth Might need for comfort, or for festal mirth; That Pile of Turf is half a century old: Yes, Traveller! fifty winters have been told 5 Since suddenly the dart of death went forth 'Gainst him who raised it,—his last work on earth: Thence has it, with the Son, so strong a hold Upon his Father's memory, that his hands, Through reverence, touch it only to repair[646] 10 Its waste.—Though crumbling with each breath of air, In annual renovation thus it stands— Rude Mausoleum! but wrens nestle there, And red-breasts warble when sweet sounds are rare.