'Mid gloom and tumult, but no less 'mid fair
And tranquil scenes, that universal power
And fitness in the latent qualities 325
And essences of things, by which the mind
Is moved with feelings of delight, to me
Came, strengthened with a superadded soul,
A virtue not its own. My morning walks
Were early;--oft before the hours of school [U] 330
I travelled round our little lake, [V] five miles
Of pleasant wandering. Happy time! more dear
For this, that one was by my side, a Friend, [W]
Then passionately loved; with heart how full
Would he peruse these lines! For many years 335
Have since flowed in between us, and, our minds
Both silent to each other, at this time
We live as if those hours had never been.
Nor seldom did I lift--our cottage latch [X]
Far earlier, ere one smoke-wreath had risen 340
From human dwelling, or the vernal thrush
Was audible; and sate among the woods
Alone upon some jutting eminence, [Y]
At the first gleam of dawn-light, when the Vale,
Yet slumbering, lay in utter solitude. 345
How shall I seek the origin? where find
Faith in the marvellous things which then I felt?
Oft in these moments such a holy calm
Would overspread my soul, that bodily eyes
Were utterly forgotten, and what I saw 350
Appeared like something in myself, a dream,
A prospect in the mind. [Z]
'Twere long to tell
What spring and autumn, what the winter snows,
And what the summer shade, what day and night,
Evening and morning, sleep and waking, thought 355
From sources inexhaustible, poured forth
To feed the spirit of religious love
In which I walked with Nature. But let this
Be not forgotten, that I still retained
My first creative sensibility; 360
That by the regular action of the world
My soul was unsubdued. A plastic power
Abode with me; a forming hand, at times
Rebellious, acting in a devious mood;
A local spirit of his own, at war 365
With general tendency, but, for the most,
Subservient strictly to external things
With which it communed. An auxiliar light
Came from my mind, which on the setting sun
Bestowed new splendour; the melodious birds, 370
The fluttering breezes, fountains that run on
Murmuring so sweetly in themselves, obeyed
A like dominion, and the midnight storm
Grew darker in the presence of my eye:
Hence my obeisance, my devotion hence, 375
And hence my transport.
Nor should this, perchance,
Pass unrecorded, that I still had loved
The exercise and produce of a toil,
Than analytic industry to me
More pleasing, and whose character I deem 380
Is more poetic as resembling more
Creative agency. The song would speak
Of that interminable building reared
By observation of affinities
In objects where no brotherhood exists 385
To passive minds. My seventeenth year was come;
And, whether from this habit rooted now
So deeply in my mind; or from excess
In the great social principle of life
Coercing all things into sympathy, 390
To unorganic ratures were transferred
My own enjoyments; or the power of truth
Coming in revelation, did converse
With things that really are; I, at this time,
Saw blessings spread around me like a sea. 395
Thus while the days flew by, and years passed on,
From Nature and her overflowing soul,
I had received so much, that all my thoughts
Were steeped in feeling; I was only then
Contented, when with bliss ineffable 400
I felt the sentiment of Being spread
O'er all that moves and all that seemeth still;
O'er all that, lost beyond the reach of thought
And human knowledge, to the human eye
Invisible, yet liveth to the heart; 405
O'er all that leaps and runs, and shouts and sings,
Or beats the gladsome air; o'er all that glides
Beneath the wave, yea, in the wave itself,
And mighty depth of waters. Wonder not
If high the transport, great the joy I felt, 410
Communing in this sort through earth and heaven
With every form of creature, as it looked
Towards the Uncreated with a countenance
Of adoration, with an eye of love.
One song they sang, and it was audible, 415
Most audible, then, when the fleshly ear,
O'ercome by humblest prelude of that strain,
Forgot her functions, and slept undisturbed.
If this be error, and another faith
Find easier access to the pious mind, 420
Yet were I grossly destitute of all
Those human sentiments that make this earth
So dear, if I should fail with grateful voice
To speak of you, ye mountains, and ye lakes
And sounding cataracts, ye mists and winds 425
That dwell among the hills where I was born.
If in my youth I have been pure in heart,
If, mingling with the world, I am content
With my own modest pleasures, and have lived
With God and Nature communing, removed 430
From little enmities and low desires,
The gift is yours; if in these times of fear,
This melancholy waste of hopes o'erthrown,
If, 'mid indifference and apathy,
And wicked exultation when good men 435
On every side fall off, we know not how,
To selfishness, disguised in gentle names
Of peace and quiet and domestic love,
Yet mingled not unwillingly with sneers
On visionary minds; if, in this time 440
Of dereliction and dismay, I yet
Despair not of our nature, but retain
A more than Roman confidence, a faith
That fails not, in all sorrow my support,
The blessing of my life; the gift is yours, 445
Ye winds and sounding cataracts! 'tis yours,
Ye mountains! thine, O Nature! Thou hast fed
My lofty speculations; and in thee,
For this uneasy heart of ours, I find
A never-failing principle of joy 450
And purest passion.
Thou, my Friend! wert reared
In the great city, 'mid far other scenes; [a]
But we, by different roads, at length have gained
The self-same bourne. And for this cause to thee
I speak, unapprehensive of contempt, 455
The insinuated scoff of coward tongues,
And all that silent language which so oft
In conversation between man and man
Blots from the human countenance all trace
Of beauty and of love. For thou hast sought 460
The truth in solitude, and, since the days
That gave thee liberty, full long desired,
To serve in Nature's temple, thou hast been
The most assiduous of her ministers;
In many things my brother, chiefly here 465
In this our deep devotion.
Fare thee well!
Health and the quiet of a healthful mind
Attend thee! seeking oft the haunts of men,
And yet more often living with thyself,
And for thyself, so haply shall thy days 470
Be many, and a blessing to mankind. [b]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The "square" of the "small market village" of Hawkshead
still remains; and the presence of the new "assembly-room" does not
prevent us from realising it as open, with the "rude mass of native rock
left midway" in it--the "old grey stone," which was the centre of the
village sports.--Ed.]
[Footnote B: Compare 'The Excursion', book ix. ll. 487-90:
'When, on thy bosom, spacious Windermere!
A Youth, I practised this delightful art;
Tossed on the waves alone, or 'mid a crew
Of joyous comrades.'
Ed.]
[Footnote C: Compare 'The Excursion', book ix. l. 544, describing "a
fair Isle with birch-trees fringed," where they gathered leaves of that
shy plant (its flower was shed), the lily of the vale.--Ed.]
[Footnote D: These islands in Windermere are easily identified. In the
Lily of the Valley Island the plant still grows, though not abundantly;
but from Lady Holme the
'ruins of a shrine
Once to Our Lady dedicate'
have disappeared as completely as the shrine in St. Herbert's Island,
Derwentwater. The third island:
'musical with birds,
That sang and ceased not--'
may have been House Holme, or that now called Thomson's Holme. It could
hardly have been Belle Isle; since, from its size, it could not be
described as a "Sister Isle" to the one where the lily of the valley
grew "beneath the oaks' umbrageous covert."--Ed.]
[Footnote E: Doubtless the circle was at Conishead Priory, on the
Cartmell Sands; or that in the vale of Swinside, on the north-east side
of Black Combe; more probably the former. The whole district is rich in
Druidical remains, but Wordsworth would not refer to the Keswick circle,
or to Long Meg and her Daughters in this connection; and the proximity
of the temple on the Cartmell Shore to the Furness Abbey ruins, and the
ease with which it could be visited on holidays by the boys from
Hawkshead school, make it almost certain that he refers to it.--Ed.]
[Footnote F: Furness Abbey, founded by Stephen in 1127, in the glen of
the deadly Nightshade--Bekansghyll--so called from the luxuriant
abundance of the plant, and dedicated to St. Mary. (Compare West's
'Antiquities of Furness'.)--Ed.]
[Footnote G: What was the belfry is now a mass of detached ruins.--Ed.]
[Footnote H: Doubtless the Cartmell Sands beyond Ulverston, at the
estuary of the Leven.--Ed.]
[Footnote I: At Bowness.--Ed.]
[Footnote K: The White Lion Inn at Bowness.--Ed.]
[Footnote L: Compare the reference to the "rude piece of self-taught
art," at the Swan Inn, in the first canto of 'The Waggoner', p. 81.
William Hutchinson, in his 'Excursion to the Lakes in 1773 and 1774'
(second edition, 1776, p. 185), mentions "the White Lion Inn at
Bownas."--Ed.]
[Footnote M: Dr. Cradock told me that William Hutchinson--referred to in
the previous note--describes "Bownas church and its cottages," as seen
from the lake, arising "'above the trees'." Wordsworth, reversing the
view, sees "gleams of water through the trees and 'over the tree
tops'"--another instance of minutely exact description.--Ed.]
[Footnote N: Robert Greenwood, afterwards Senior Fellow of Trinity
College, Cambridge.--Ed.]
[Footnote O: Compare 'Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey',
vol. ii. p. 51.--Ed.]
[Footnote P: Wetherlam, or Coniston Old Man, or both.--Ed.]
[Footnote Q:
"The moon, as it hung over the southernmost shore of Esthwaite, with
Gunner's How, as seen from Hawkshead rising up boldly to the
spectator's left hand, would be thus described."
(H. D. Rawnsley.)--Ed.]
[Footnote R: Esthwaite. Compare 'Peter Bell' (vol. ii. p. 13):
'Where deep and low the hamlets lie
Beneath their little patch of sky
And little lot of stars.'
Ed.]
[Footnote S: See in the Appendix to this volume, Note II, p. 388.--Ed.]
[Footnote T: See 'Paradise Lost', ix. l. 249.--Ed.]
[Footnote U: The daily work in Hawkshead School began--by Archbishop
Sandys' ordinance--at 6 A.M. in summer, and 7 A.M. in winter.--Ed.]
[Footnote V: Esthwaite.--Ed.]
[Footnote W: The Rev. John Fleming, of Rayrigg, Windermere, or,
possibly, the Rev. Charles Farish, author of 'The Minstrels of
Winandermere' and 'Black Agnes'. Mr. Carter, who edited 'The Prelude' in
1850, says it was the former, but this is not absolutely certain.--Ed.]
[Footnote X: A "cottage latch"--probably the same as that in use in Dame
Tyson's time--is still on the door of the house where she lived at
Hawkshead.--Ed.]
[Footnote Y: Probably on the western side of the Vale, above the
village. There is but one "'jutting' eminence" on this side of the
valley. It is an old moraine, now grass-covered; and, from this point,
the view both of the village and of the vale is noteworthy. The jutting
eminence, however, may have been a crag, amongst the Colthouse heights,
to the north-east of Hawkshead.--Ed.]
[Footnote Z: Compare in the 'Ode, Intimations of Immortality':
'... those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings,' etc.
Ed.]
[Footnote a: Coleridge's school days were spent at Christ's Hospital in
London. With the above line compare S. T. C.'s 'Frost at Midnight':
'I was reared
In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim.'
Ed.]
[Footnote b: Compare 'Stanzas written in my Pocket Copy of Thomsons
"Castle of Indolence,"' vol. ii. p. 305.--Ed.]
* * * * *
BOOK THIRD
RESIDENCE AT CAMBRIDGE
It was a dreary morning when the wheels
Rolled over a wide plain o'erhung with clouds,
And nothing cheered our way till first we saw
The long-roofed chapel of King's College lift
Turrets and pinnacles in answering files, 5
Extended high above a dusky grove, [A]
Advancing, we espied upon the road
A student clothed in gown and tasselled cap,
Striding along as if o'ertasked by Time,
Or covetous of exercise and air; 10
He passed--nor was I master of my eyes
Till he was left an arrow's flight behind.
As near and nearer to the spot we drew,
It seemed to suck us in with an eddy's force.
Onward we drove beneath the Castle; caught, 15
While crossing Magdalene Bridge, a glimpse of Cam;
And at the 'Hoop' alighted, famous Inn. [B]
My spirit was up, my thoughts were full of hope;
Some friends I had, acquaintances who there
Seemed friends, poor simple school-boys, now hung round 20
With honour and importance: in a world
Of welcome faces up and down I roved;
Questions, directions, warnings and advice,
Flowed in upon me, from all sides; fresh day
Of pride and pleasure! to myself I seemed 25
A man of business and expense, and went
From shop to shop about my own affairs,
To Tutor or to Tailor, as befel,
From street to street with loose and careless mind.
I was the Dreamer, they the Dream; I roamed 30
Delighted through the motley spectacle;
Gowns, grave, or gaudy, doctors, students, streets,
Courts, cloisters, flocks of churches, gateways, towers:
Migration strange for a stripling of the hills,
A northern villager.
As if the change 35
Had waited on some Fairy's wand, at once
Behold me rich in monies, and attired
In splendid garb, with hose of silk, and hair
Powdered like rimy trees, when frost is keen.
My lordly dressing-gown, I pass it by, 40
With other signs of manhood that supplied
The lack of beard.--The weeks went roundly on,
With invitations, suppers, wine and fruit,
Smooth housekeeping within, and all without
Liberal, and suiting gentleman's array. 45
The Evangelist St. John my patron was:
Three Gothic courts are his, and in the first
Was my abiding-place, a nook obscure; [C]
Right underneath, the College kitchens made
A humming sound, less tuneable than bees, 50
But hardly less industrious; with shrill notes
Of sharp command and scolding intermixed.
Near me hung Trinity's loquacious clock,
Who never let the quarters, night or day,
Slip by him unproclaimed, and told the hours 55
Twice over with a male and female voice.
Her pealing organ was my neighbour too;
And from my pillow, looking forth by light
Of moon or favouring stars, I could behold
The antechapel where the statue stood 60
Of Newton with his prism and silent face,
The marble index of a mind for ever
Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.
Of College labours, of the Lecturer's room
All studded round, as thick as chairs could stand, 65
With loyal students faithful to their books,
Half-and-half idlers, hardy recusants,
And honest dunces--of important days,
Examinations, when the man was weighed
As in a balance! of excessive hopes, 70
Tremblings withal and commendable fears,
Small jealousies, and triumphs good or bad,
Let others that know more speak as they know.
Such glory was but little sought by me,
And little won. Yet from the first crude days 75
Of settling time in this untried abode,
I was disturbed at times by prudent thoughts,
Wishing to hope without a hope, some fears
About my future worldly maintenance,
And, more than all, a strangeness in the mind, 80
A feeling that I was not for that hour,
Nor for that place. But wherefore be cast down?
For (not to speak of Reason and her pure
Reflective acts to fix the moral law
Deep in the conscience, nor of Christian Hope, 85
Bowing her head before her sister Faith
As one far mightier), hither I had come,
Bear witness Truth, endowed with holy powers
And faculties, whether to work or feel.
Oft when the dazzling show no longer new 90
Had ceased to dazzle, ofttimes did I quit
My comrades, leave the crowd, buildings and groves,
And as I paced alone the level fields
Far from those lovely sights and sounds sublime
With which I had been conversant, the mind 95
Drooped not; but there into herself returning,
With prompt rebound seemed fresh as heretofore.
At least I more distinctly recognised
Her native instincts: let me dare to speak
A higher language, say that now I felt 100
What independent solaces were mine,
To mitigate the injurious sway of place
Or circumstance, how far soever changed
In youth, or to be changed in manhood's prime;
Or for the few who shall be called to look 105
On the long shadows in our evening years,
Ordained precursors to the night of death.
As if awakened, summoned, roused, constrained,
I looked for universal things; perused
The common countenance of earth and sky: 110
Earth, nowhere unembellished by some trace
Of that first Paradise whence man was driven;
And sky, whose beauty and bounty are expressed
By the proud name she bears--the name of Heaven.
I called on both to teach me what they might; 115
Or turning the mind in upon herself
Pored, watched, expected, listened, spread my thoughts
And spread them with a wider creeping; felt
Incumbencies more awful, visitings
Of the Upholder of the tranquil soul, 120
That tolerates the indignities of Time,
And, from the centre of Eternity
All finite motions overruling, lives
In glory immutable. But peace! enough
Here to record that I was mounting now 125
To such community with highest truth--
A track pursuing, not untrod before,
From strict analogies by thought supplied
Or consciousnesses not to be subdued.
To every natural form, rock, fruit or flower, 130
Even the loose stones that cover the high-way,
I gave a moral life: I saw them feel,
Or linked them to some feeling: the great mass
Lay bedded in a quickening soul, and all
That I beheld respired with inward meaning. 135
Add that whate'er of Terror or of Love
Or Beauty, Nature's daily face put on
From transitory passion, unto this
I was as sensitive as waters are
To the sky's influence in a kindred mood 140
Of passion; was obedient as a lute
That waits upon the touches of the wind.
Unknown, unthought of, yet I was most rich--
I had a world about me--'twas my own;
I made it, for it only lived to me, 145
And to the God who sees into the heart.
Such sympathies, though rarely, were betrayed
By outward gestures and by visible looks:
Some called it madness--so indeed it was,
If child-like fruitfulness in passing joy, 150
If steady moods of thoughtfulness matured
To inspiration, sort with such a name;
If prophecy be madness; if things viewed
By poets in old time, and higher up
By the first men, earth's first inhabitants, 155
May in these tutored days no more be seen
With undisordered sight. But leaving this,
It was no madness, for the bodily eye
Amid my strongest workings evermore
Was searching out the lines of difference 160
As they lie hid in all external forms,
Near or remote, minute or vast, an eye
Which from a tree, a stone, a withered leaf,
To the broad ocean and the azure heavens
Spangled with kindred multitudes of stars, 165
Could find no surface where its power might sleep;
Which spake perpetual logic to my soul,
And by an unrelenting agency
Did bind my feelings even as in a chain.
And here, O Friend! have I retraced my life 170
Up to an eminence, and told a tale
Of matters which not falsely may be called
The glory of my youth. Of genius, power,
Creation and divinity itself
I have been speaking, for my theme has been 175
What passed within me. Not of outward things
Done visibly for other minds, words, signs,
Symbols or actions, but of my own heart
Have I been speaking, and my youthful mind.
O Heavens! how awful is the might of souls, 180
And what they do within themselves while yet
The yoke of earth is new to them, the world
Nothing but a wild field where they were sown.
This is, in truth, heroic argument,
This genuine prowess, which I wished to touch 185
With hand however weak, but in the main
It lies far hidden from the reach of words.
Points have we all of us within our souls
Where all stand single; this I feel, and make
Breathings for incommunicable powers; 190
But is not each a memory to himself?
And, therefore, now that we must quit this theme,
I am not heartless, for there's not a man
That lives who hath not known his god-like hours,
And feels not what an empire we inherit 195
As natural beings in the strength of Nature.
No more: for now into a populous plain
We must descend. A Traveller I am,
Whose tale is only of himself; even so,
So be it, if the pure of heart be prompt 200
To follow, and if thou, my honoured Friend!
Who in these thoughts art ever at my side,
Support, as heretofore, my fainting steps.
It hath been told, that when the first delight
That flashed upon me from this novel show 205
Had failed, the mind returned into herself;
Yet true it is, that I had made a change
In climate, and my nature's outward coat
Changed also slowly and insensibly.
Full oft the quiet and exalted thoughts 210
Of loneliness gave way to empty noise
And superficial pastimes; now and then
Forced labour, and more frequently forced hopes;
And, worst of all, a treasonable growth
Of indecisive judgments, that impaired 215
And shook the mind's simplicity.--And yet
This was a gladsome time. Could I behold--
Who, less insensible than sodden clay
In a sea-river's bed at ebb of tide,
Could have beheld,--with undelighted heart, 220
So many happy youths, so wide and fair
A congregation in its budding-time
Of health, and hope, and beauty, all at once
So many divers samples from the growth
Of life's sweet season--could have seen unmoved 225
That miscellaneous garland of wild flowers
Decking the matron temples of a place
So famous through the world? To me, at least,
It was a goodly prospect: for, in sooth,
Though I had learnt betimes to stand unpropped, 230
And independent musings pleased me so
That spells seemed on me when I was alone,
Yet could I only cleave to solitude
In lonely places; if a throng was near
That way I leaned by nature; for my heart 235
Was social, and loved idleness and joy.
Not seeking those who might participate
My deeper pleasures (nay, I had not once,
Though not unused to mutter lonesome songs,
Even with myself divided such delight, 240
Or looked that way for aught that might be clothed
In human language), easily I passed
From the remembrances of better things,
And slipped into the ordinary works
Of careless youth, unburthened, unalarmed. 245
_Caverns_ there were within my mind which sun
Could never penetrate, yet did there not
Want store of leafy _arbours_ where the light
Might enter in at will. Companionships,
Friendships, acquaintances, were welcome all. 250
We sauntered, played, or rioted; we talked
Unprofitable talk at morning hours;
Drifted about along the streets and walks,
Read lazily in trivial books, went forth
To gallop through the country in blind zeal 255
Of senseless horsemanship, or on the breast
Of Cam sailed boisterously, and let the stars
Come forth, perhaps without one quiet thought.
Such was the tenor of the second act
In this new life. Imagination slept, 260
And yet not utterly. I could not print
Ground where the grass had yielded to the steps
Of generations of illustrious men,
Unmoved. I could not always lightly pass
Through the same gateways, sleep where they had slept, 265
Wake where they waked, range that inclosure old,
That garden of great intellects, undisturbed.
Place also by the side of this dark sense
Of noble feeling, that those spiritual men,
Even the great Newton's own ethereal self, 270
Seemed humbled in these precincts thence to be
The more endeared. Their several memories here
(Even like their persons in their portraits clothed
With the accustomed garb of daily life)
Put on a lowly and a touching grace 275
Of more distinct humanity, that left
All genuine admiration unimpaired.