90 100 130 Have followed; for such loss, I would be My former pleasures in the shooting lights lieve, Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while Abundant recompense. For I have learned May I behold in thee what I was once, 120 To look on nature, not as in the hour My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I Of thoughtless youth; but hearing often make, times Knowing that Nature never did betray The still, sad music of humanity, The heart that loved her; 'tis her priviNor harsh, nor grating, though of ample lege, power Through all the years of this our life, to To chasten and subdue. And I have felt lead A presence that disturbs me with the joy From joy to joy: for she can so inform 125 Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime 95 The mind that is within us, so impress Of something far more deeply interfused, With quietness and beauty, and so feed Whose dwelling is the light of setting With lofty thoughts, that neither evil suns, tongues, And the round ocean and the living air, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish And the blue sky, and in the mind of men, man; Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor A motion and a spirit, that impels all All thinking things, all objects of all The dreary intercourse of daily life, thought, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb And rolls through all things. Therefore Our cheerful faith, that all which we beam I still hold A lover of the meadows and the woods, Is full of blessings. Therefore let the And mountains; and of all that we behold Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; From this green earth; of all the mighty And let the misty mountain-winds be free world To blow against thee: and, in after years, Of eye, and ear, - both what they half When these wild ecstasies shall be macreate, tured And what perceive; well pleased to recog Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind nize Shall be mansion for all lovely In nature and the language of the sense, forms, The anchor of my purest thoughts, the Thy memory be as a dwelling-place nurse, For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! The guide, the guardian of my heart, and then, soul If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Of all my moral being. Should be thy portion, with what healing Nor perchance, thoughts If I were not thus taught, should I the Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, 145 And these my exhortations! Nor, perSuffer my genial spirits to decay: chance — For thou art with me here upon the banks If I should be where I no more can hear Of this fair river; thou my dearest Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes Friend, these gleams My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I Of past existence - wilt thou then forget catch That on the banks of this delightful The language of my former heart, and read We stood together; and that I, so long moon 135 105 a 140 110 more 115 stream 150 320 me we as mean A worshipper of Nature, hither came In these night wanderings, that a strong Unwearied in that service: rather say desire With warmer love - oh! with far deeper O'erpowered my better reason, and the zeal bird Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then for Which was the captive of another's toil get, 155 Became my prey; and when the deed was That after many wanderings, many years done Of absence, these steep woods and lofty I heard among the solitary hills cliffs, Low breathings coming after me, and And this green pastoral landscape, were to sounds Of undistinguishable motion, steps More dear, both for themselves and for Almost as silent as the turf they trod. 325 thy sake! Nor less when spring had warmed the cultured vale, THE PRELUDE Moved plunderers where the (1799-1805) mother-bird Had in high places built her lodge; though From Book First Presences of Nature in Boyhood Our object and inglorious, yet the end Was not ignoble. Oh! when I have Fair seed-time had my soul, and I grew hung 330 up Above the raven's nest, by knots of grass Fostered alike by beauty and by fear: And half-inch fissures in the slippery rock Much favored in my birth-place, and no But ill sustained, and almost (so it seemed) less Suspended by the blast that blew amain, In that beloved Vale to which erelong Shouldering the naked crag, oh, at that We were transplanted there were we let time loose 305 While on the perilous ridge I hung alone, For sports of wider range. Ere I had told With what strange utterance did the loud Ten birth-days, when among the mountain dry wind slopes Blow through my ear! the sky seemed not Frost, and the breath of frosty wind, had a sky snapped Of earth and with what motion moved The last autumnal crocus, 'twas my joy the clouds! With store of springes o'er my shoulder hung Dust as we are, the immortal spirit To range the open heights where wood grows 340 cocks run Like harmony in music; there is a dark Along the smooth green turf. Through Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles half the night, Discordant elements, makes them cling toScudding away from snare to snare, I gether plied In one society. How strange that all That anxious visitation; moon and stars The terrors, pains, and early miseries, 345 Were shining o'er my head. I Regrets, vexations, lassitudes interfused alone, Within my mind, should e'er have borne a And seemed to be a trouble to the peace part, That dwelt among them. Sometimes it And that a needful part, in making up befell The calm existence that is mine when I 335 310 was 315 Am worthy of myself! Praise to the end! 350 Thanks to the means which Nature deigned to employ; Whether her fearless visitings, or those That came with soft alarm, like hurtless light Opening the peaceful clouds; or she may For so it seemed, with purpose of its own And measured motion like a living thing, Strode after me. With trembling oars I turned, 385 And through the silent water stole my way Back to the covert of the willow tree; There in her mooring-place I left my bark, And through the meadows homeward went, in grave And serious mood; but after I had seen 390 That spectacle, for many days, my brain Worked with a dim and undetermined sense 360 Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes 395 Remained, no pleasant images of trees, Of sea or sky, no colors of green fields; But huge and mighty forms that do not live Like living men, moved slowly through the mind By day, and were trouble dreams. 400 like one a to my One summer evening (led by her) I found A little boat tied to a willow tree Within a rocky cave, its usual home. Straight I unloosed her chain, and step ping in Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on; Leaving behind her still, on either side, Small circles glittering idly in the moon, 365 Until they melted all into one track Of sparkling light. But now, who rows, Proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point With an unswerving line, I fixed my view Upon the summit of a craggy ridge, The horizon's utmost boundary; far above Was nothing but the stars and the gray sky. She was an elfin pinnace; lustily I dipped my oars into the silent lake, And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat 375 Went heaving through the water like a swan; When, from behind that craggy steep till then The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge, As if with voluntary power instinct Upreared its head. I struck and struck again, And growing still in stature the grim shape Towered up between me and the stars, and still, 370 380 425 for me It was 430 Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous me 415 throng, With stinted kindness. In November days, To cut across the reflex of a star 450 When vapors rolling down the valley made That Aed, and, Aying still before me, A lonely scene more lonesome, among gleamed woods, Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes, At noon and 'mid the calm of summer When we had given our bodies to the nights, wind, When, by the margin of the trembling And all the shadowy banks on either side lake, 420 Came sweeping through the darkness, spinBeneath the gloomy hills homeward I went ning still 455 In solitude, such intercourse was mine; The rapid line of motion, then at once Mine was it in the fields both day and Have I, reclining back upon my heels, night, Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs And by the waters, all the summer long. Wheeled by me even as if the earth had rolled And in the frosty season, when the sun With visible motion her diurnal round! 460 Was set, and visible for many a mile Behind me did they stretch in solemn The cottage windows blazed through twi train, light gloom, Feebler and feebler, and I stood and I heeded not their summons: happy time watched It was indeed for all of us — Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep. a time of rapture! Clear and laud Ye Presences of Nature in the sky The village clock tolled six, I wheeled And on the earth! Ye Visions of the about, hills! Proud and exulting like an untired horse And Souls of lonely places! can I think That cares not for his home. All shod A vulgar hope was yours when ye emwith steel, ployed We hissed along the polished ice in games Such ministry, when ye, through many a Confederate, imitative of the chase year And woodland pleasures, — the resounding the resounding Haunting me thus among my boyish sports, horn, On caves and trees, upon the woods and The pack loud chiming, and the hunted hills, hare. Impressed, upon all forms, the characters So through the darkness and the cold we Of danger or desire; and thus did make flew, The surface of the universal earth, And not a voice was idle; with the din With triumph and delight, with hope and Smitten, the precipices rang aloud; fear, The leafless trees and every icy crag Work like a sea ? 475 Tinkled like iron; while far distant hills Into the tumult sent an alien sound From BOOK SIXTH Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the Down the Simplon Pass stars Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the Downwards we hurried fast, And, with the half-shaped road which we The orange sky of evening died away. had missed, Not seldom from the uproar I retired Entered a narrow chasm. The brook and Into a silent bay, or sportively road 465 435 470 440 west 445 620 to Into a lordly river, broad and deep, view Of distant mountains and their snowy tops, And thus proceeding to Locarno's Lake, 655 Fit resting-place for such a visitant. Locarno! spreading out in width like Heaven, How dost thou cleave to the poetic heart, Bask in the sunshine of the memory. 625 Were fellow-travellers in this gloomy strait, And with them did we journey several hours At a slow pace. The immeasurable heights Of woods decaying, never be de cayed, The stationary blasts of waterfalls, And in the narrow rent at every turn Winds thwarting winds, bewildered and forlorn, The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, 630 Black drizzling crags that spake by the way-side As if a voice were in them, the sick sight And giddy prospect of the raving stream, The unfettered clouds and regions of the heavens, Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light Were all like workings of one mind, the features Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree; Characters of the great Apocalypse, The types and symbols of Eternity, Of first, and last, and midst, and without end. From Book ELEVENTH 635 85 640 The Poet and the French Revolution I had approached, like other youths, the shield Of human nature from the golden side, 80 And would have fought, even to the death, to attest The quality of the metal which I saw. What there is best in individual man, Of wise in passion, and sublime in power, Benevolent in small societies, And great in large ones, I had oft re volved, Felt deeply, but not thoroughly understood By reason: nay, far from it; they were yet, As cause was given me afterwards to learn, Not proof against the injuries of the day; Lodged only at the sanctuary's door, Not safe within its bosom. Thus pre pared, And with such general insight into evil, And of the bounds which sever it from good, As books and common intercourse with life Must needs have given -- to the inexperi enced mind, When the world travels in a beaten road, Guide faithful as is needed – I began To meditate with ardor on the rule That night our lodging was a house that stood Alone within the valley, at a point Where, tumbling from aloft, a torrent swelled The rapid stream whose margin we had trod; A dreary mansion, large beyond all need, With high and spacious rooms, deafened and stunned By noise of waters, making innocent sleep Lie melancholy among weary bones. 90 645 95 |