Depressed, bewildered thus, I did not walk

With scoffers, seeking light and gay revenge

From indiscriminate laughter, nor sate down

In reconcilement with an utter waste

Of intellect; such sloth I could not brook, 325

(Too well I loved, in that my spring of life,

Pains-taking thoughts, and truth, their dear reward)

But turned to abstract science, and there sought

Work for the reasoning faculty enthroned

Where the disturbances of space and time--330

Whether in matters various, properties

Inherent, or from human will and power

Derived--find no admission. [G] Then it was--

Thanks to the bounteous Giver of all good!--

That the beloved Sister in whose sight 335

Those days were passed, [H] now speaking in a voice

Of sudden admonition--like a brook [I]

That did but _cross_ a lonely road, and now

Is seen, heard, felt, and caught at every turn,

Companion never lost through many a league--340

Maintained for me a saving intercourse

With my true self; for, though bedimmed and changed

Much, as it seemed, I was no further changed

Than as a clouded and a waning moon:

She whispered still that brightness would return, 345

She, in the midst of all, preserved me still

A Poet, made me seek beneath that name,

And that alone, my office upon earth;

And, lastly, as hereafter will be shown,

If willing audience fail not, Nature's self, 350

By all varieties of human love

Assisted, led me back through opening day

To those sweet counsels between head and heart

Whence grew that genuine knowledge, fraught with peace,

Which, through the later sinkings of this cause, 355

Hath still upheld me, and upholds me now

In the catastrophe (for so they dream,

And nothing less), when, finally to close

And seal up all the gains of France, a Pope

Is summoned in, to crown an Emperor--[K] 360

This last opprobrium, when we see a people,

That once looked up in faith, as if to Heaven

For manna, take a lesson from the dog

Returning to his vomit; when the sun

That rose in splendour, was alive, and moved 365

In exultation with a living pomp

Of clouds--his glory's natural retinue--

Hath dropped all functions by the gods bestowed,

And, turned into a gewgaw, a machine,

Sets like an Opera phantom.

Thus, O Friend! 370

Through times of honour and through times of shame

Descending, have I faithfully retraced

The perturbations of a youthful mind

Under a long-lived storm of great events--

A story destined for thy ear, who now, 375

Among the fallen of nations, dost abide

Where Etna, over hill and valley, casts

His shadow stretching towards Syracuse, [L]

The city of Timoleon! [M] Righteous Heaven!

How are the mighty prostrated! They first, 380

They first of all that breathe should have awaked

When the great voice was heard from out the tombs

Of ancient heroes. If I suffered grief

For ill-requited France, by many deemed

A trifler only in her proudest day; 385

Have been distressed to think of what she once

Promised, now is; a far more sober cause

Thine eyes must see of sorrow in a land.

To the reanimating influence lost

Of memory, to virtue lost and hope, 390

Though with the wreck of loftier years bestrewn.

But indignation works where hope is not,

And thou, O Friend! wilt be refreshed. There is

One great society alone on earth:

The noble Living and the noble Dead. 395

Thine be such converse strong and sanative,

A ladder for thy spirit to reascend

To health and joy and pure contentedness;

To me the grief confined, that thou art gone

From this last spot of earth, where Freedom now 400

Stands single in her only sanctuary;

A lonely wanderer art gone, by pain

Compelled and sickness, [N] at this latter day,

This sorrowful reverse for all mankind.

I feel for thee, must utter what I feel: 405

The sympathies erewhile in part discharged,

Gather afresh, and will have vent again:

My own delights do scarcely seem to me

My own delights; the lordly Alps themselves,

Those rosy peaks, from which the Morning looks 410

Abroad on many nations, are no more

For me that image of pure gladsomeness

Which they were wont to be. Through kindred scenes,

For purpose, at a time, how different!

Thou tak'st thy way, carrying the heart and soul 415

That Nature gives to Poets, now by thought

Matured, and in the summer of their strength.

Oh! wrap him in your shades, ye giant woods,

On Etna's side; and thou, O flowery field

Of Enna! [O] is there not some nook of thine, 420

From the first play-time of the infant world

Kept sacred to restorative delight,

When from afar invoked by anxious love?

Child of the mountains, among shepherds reared,

Ere yet familiar with the classic page, 425

I learnt to dream of Sicily; and lo,

The gloom, that, but a moment past, was deepened

At thy command, at her command gives way;

A pleasant promise, wafted from her shores,

Comes o'er my heart: in fancy I behold 430

Her seas yet smiling, her once happy vales;

Nor can my tongue give utterance to a name

Of note belonging to that honoured isle,

Philosopher or Bard, Empedocles, [P]

Or Archimedes, [Q] pure abstracted soul! 435

That doth not yield a solace to my grief:

And, O Theocritus, [R] so far have some

Prevailed among the powers of heaven and earth,

By their endowments, good or great, that they

Have had, as thou reportest, miracles 440

Wrought for them in old time: yea, not unmoved,

When thinking on my own beloved friend,

I hear thee tell how bees with honey fed

Divine Comates, [S] by his impious lord

Within a chest imprisoned; how they came 445

Laden from blooming grove or flowery field,

And fed him there, alive, month after month,

Because the goatherd, blessed man! had lips

Wet with the Muses' nectar.

Thus I soothe

The pensive moments by this calm fire-side, 450

And find a thousand bounteous images

To cheer the thoughts of those I love, and mine.

Our prayers have been accepted; thou wilt stand

On Etna's summit, above earth and sea,

Triumphant, winning from the invaded heavens 455

Thoughts without bound, magnificent designs,

Worthy of poets who attuned their harps

In wood or echoing cave, for discipline

Of heroes; or, in reverence to the gods,

'Mid temples, served by sapient priests, and choirs 460

Of virgins crowned with roses. Not in vain

Those temples, where they in their ruins yet

Survive for inspiration, shall attract

Thy solitary steps: and on the brink

Thou wilt recline of pastoral Arethuse; 465

Or, if that fountain be in truth no more,

Then, near some other spring--which, by the name

Thou gratulatest, willingly deceived--

I see thee linger a glad votary,

And not a captive pining for his home. 470

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: In the editions of 1850 and 1857, the punctuation is as

follows, but is evidently wrong:

in the People was my trust:

And, in the virtues which mine eyes had seen,

I knew ...

Ed.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: The Reign of Terror ended with the downfall of Robespierre

and his "Tribe."--Ed.]

[Footnote B: He refers doubtless to the effect, upon the Government of

the day, of the dread of Revolution in England. There were a few

partisans of France and of the Revolution in England; and the panic

which followed, though irrational, was widespread. The Habeas Corpus Act

was suspended, a Bill was passed against seditious Assemblies, the Press

was prosecuted, some Scottish Whigs who clamoured for reform were

sentenced to transportation, while one Judge expressed regret that the

practice of torture for sedition had fallen into disuse.--Ed.] TWO

[Footnote C: See p. 35 ['French Revolution'].--Ed.]

[Footnote D: Compare 'Ruth', in vol. ii. p. 112:

'Before me shone a glorious world--

Fresh as a banner bright, unfurled

To music suddenly:

I looked upon those hills and plains,

And seemed as if let loose from chains,

To live at liberty.'

Ed.]

[Footnote E: In 1795.--Ed.]

[Footnote F: Referring probably to Napoleon's Italian campaign in

1796.--Ed.]

[Footnote G: In 1794 he returned, with intermittent ardour, to the study

of mathematics and physics.--Ed.]

[Footnote H: In the winter of 1794 he went to Halifax, and there joined

his sister, whom he accompanied in the same winter to Kendal, Grasmere,

and Keswick. They stayed for several weeks at Windybrow farm-house, near

Keswick. The brother and sister had not met since the Christmas of 1791.

It is to those "days," in 1794, that he refers.--Ed.]

[Footnote I: Compare in the first book of 'The Recluse', l. 91:

Her voice was like a hidden Bird that sang;

The thought of her was like a flash of light,

Or an unseen companionship.

Ed.]

[Footnote K: In 1804 Bonaparte sent for the Pope to anoint him as

'Empereur des Français'. Napoleon wished the title to be as remote as

possible from "King of France."--Ed.]

[Footnote L: Coleridge was then living in Sicily, whither he had gone

from Malta. He ascended Etna. See Cottles' 'Early Recollections, chiefly

relating to the late Samuel Taylor Coleridge' (vol. ii. p. 77), and also

compare note [Book 6, Footnote U], p. 230 of this volume.--Ed.]

[Footnote M: Timoleon, one of the greatest of the Greeks, was sent in

command of an expedition to reduce Sicily to order; and was afterwards

the Master, but not the Tyrant, of Syracuse. He colonised it afresh from

Corinth, and from the rest of Sicily; and enacted new laws of a

democratic character, being ultimately the ruler of the whole island;

although he refused office and declined titles, remaining a private

citizen to the end. (See Plutarch's Life of him.)--Ed.]

[Footnote N: See book vi. l. 240.--Ed.]

[Footnote O: Compare 'Paradise Lost', book iv. l. 269.--Ed.]

[Footnote P: Empedpocles, the philosopher of Agrigentum, physicist,

metaphysician, poet, musician, and hierophant.--Ed.]

[Footnote Q: The geometrician of Syracuse.--Ed.]

[Footnote R: The pastoral poet of Syracuse.--Ed.]

[Footnote S: Theocrit. Idyll vii. 78. (Mr. Carter, 1850.)]

* * * * *

BOOK TWELFTH

IMAGINATION AND TASTE, HOW IMPAIRED AND RESTORED

Long time have human ignorance and guilt

Detained us, on what spectacles of woe

Compelled to look, and inwardly oppressed

With sorrow, disappointment, vexing thoughts,

Confusion of the judgment, zeal decayed, 5

And, lastly, utter loss of hope itself

And things to hope for! Not with these began

Our song, and not with these our song must end.--

Ye motions of delight, that haunt the sides

Of the green hills; ye breezes and soft airs, 10

Whose subtle intercourse with breathing flowers,

Feelingly watched, might teach Man's haughty race

How without injury to take, to give

Without offence [A]; ye who, as if to show

The wondrous influence of power gently used, 15

Bend the complying heads of lordly pines,

And, with a touch, shift the stupendous clouds

Through the whole compass of the sky; ye brooks,

Muttering along the stones, a busy noise

By day, a quiet sound in silent night; 20

Ye waves, that out of the great deep steal forth

In a calm hour to kiss the pebbly shore,

Not mute, and then retire, fearing no storm;

And you, ye groves, whose ministry it is

To interpose the covert of your shades, 25

Even as a sleep, between the heart of man

And outward troubles, between man himself,

Not seldom, and his own uneasy heart:

Oh! that I had a music and a voice

Harmonious as your own, that I might tell 30

What ye have done for me. The morning shines,

Nor heedeth Man's perverseness; Spring returns,--

I saw the Spring return, and could rejoice,

In common with the children of her love,

Piping on boughs, or sporting on fresh fields, 35

Or boldly seeking pleasure nearer heaven

On wings that navigate cerulean skies.

So neither were complacency, nor peace,

Nor tender yearnings, wanting for my good

Through these distracted times; in Nature still 40

Glorying, I found a counterpoise in her,

Which, when the spirit of evil reached its height.

Maintained for me a secret happiness.

This narrative, my Friend! hath chiefly told

Of intellectual power, fostering love, 45

Dispensing truth, and, over men and things,

Where reason yet might hesitate, diffusing

Prophetic sympathies of genial faith:

So was I favoured--such my happy lot--

Until that natural graciousness of mind 50

Gave way to overpressure from the times

And their disastrous issues. What availed,

When spells forbade the voyager to land,

That fragrant notice of a pleasant shore

Wafted, at intervals, from many a bower 55

Of blissful gratitude and fearless love?

Dare I avow that wish was mine to see,

And hope that future times _would_ surely see,

The man to come, parted, as by a gulph,

From him who had been; that I could no more 60

Trust the elevation which had made me one

With the great family that still survives

To illuminate the abyss of ages past,

Sage, warrior, patriot, hero; for it seemed

That their best virtues were not free from taint 65

Of something false and weak, that could not stand

The open eye of Reason. Then I said,

"Go to the Poets, they will speak to thee

More perfectly of purer creatures;--yet

If reason be nobility in man, 70

Can aught be more ignoble than the man

Whom they delight in, blinded as he is

By prejudice, the miserable slave

Of low ambition or distempered love?"

In such strange passion, if I may once more 75

Review the past, I warred against myself--

A bigot to a new idolatry--

Like a cowled monk who hath forsworn the world,

Zealously laboured to cut off my heart

From all the sources of her former strength; 80

And as, by simple waving of a wand,

The wizard instantaneously dissolves

Palace or grove, even so could I unsoul

As readily by syllogistic words

Those mysteries of being which have made, 85

And shall continue evermore to make,

Of the whole human race one brotherhood.

What wonder, then, if, to a mind so far

Perverted, even the visible Universe

Fell under the dominion of a taste 90

Less spiritual, with microscopic view

Was scanned, as I had scanned the moral world?

O Soul of Nature! excellent and fair!

That didst rejoice with me, with whom I, too,

Rejoiced through early youth, before the winds 95

And roaring waters, and in lights and shades

That marched and countermarched about the hills

In glorious apparition, Powers on whom

I daily waited, now all eye and now

All ear; but never long without the heart 100

Employed, and man's unfolding intellect:

O Soul of Nature! that, by laws divine

Sustained and governed, still dost overflow

With an impassioned life, what feeble ones

Walk on this earth! how feeble have I been 105

When thou wert in thy strength! Nor this through stroke

Of human suffering, such as justifies

Remissness and inaptitude of mind,

But through presumption; even in pleasure pleased

Unworthily, disliking here, and there 110

Liking; by rules of mimic art transferred

To things above all art; but more,--for this,

Although a strong infection of the age,

Was never much my habit--giving way

To a comparison of scene with scene, 115

Bent overmuch on superficial things,

Pampering myself with meagre novelties

Of colour and proportion; to the moods

Of time and season, to the moral power,

The affections and the spirit of the place, 120

Insensible. Nor only did the love

Of sitting thus in judgment interrupt

My deeper feelings, but another cause,

More subtle and less easily explained,

That almost seems inherent in the creature, 125

A twofold frame of body and of mind.

I speak in recollection of a time

When the bodily eye, in every stage of life

The most despotic of our senses, gained

Such strength in _me_ as often held my mind 130

In absolute dominion. Gladly here,

Entering upon abstruser argument,

Could I endeavour to unfold the means

Which Nature studiously employs to thwart

This tyranny, summons all the senses each 135

To counteract the other, and themselves,

And makes them all, and the objects with which all

Are conversant, subservient in their turn

To the great ends of Liberty and Power.

But leave we this: enough that my delights 140

(Such as they were) were sought insatiably.

Vivid the transport, vivid though not profound;

I roamed from hill to hill, from rock to rock,

Still craving combinations of new forms,

New pleasure, wider empire for the sight, 145

Proud of her own endowments, and rejoiced

To lay the inner faculties asleep.

Amid the turns and counterturns, the strife

And various trials of our complex being,

As we grow up, such thraldom of that sense 150

Seems hard to shun. And yet I knew a maid, [B]

A young enthusiast, who escaped these bonds;

Her eye was not the mistress of her heart;

Far less did rules prescribed by passive taste,

Or barren intermeddling subtleties, 155

Perplex her mind; but, wise as women are

When genial circumstance hath favoured them,

She welcomed what was given, and craved no more;

Whate'er the scene presented to her view,

That was the best, to that she was attuned 160

By her benign simplicity of life,

And through a perfect happiness of soul,

Whose variegated feelings were in this

Sisters, that they were each some new delight.

Birds in the bower, and lambs in the green field, 165

Could they have known her, would have loved; methought

Her very presence such a sweetness breathed,

That flowers, and trees, and even the silent hills,

And every thing she looked on, should have had

An intimation how she bore herself 170

Towards them and to all creatures. God delights

In such a being; for her common thoughts

Are piety, her life is gratitude.

Even like this maid, before I was called forth

From the retirement of my native hills, 175

I loved whate'er I saw: nor lightly loved,

But most intensely; never dreamt of aught

More grand, more fair, more exquisitely framed

Than those few nooks to which my happy feet

Were limited. I had not at that time 180

Lived long enough, nor in the least survived

The first diviner influence of this world,

As it appears to unaccustomed eyes.

Worshipping then among the depth of things,

As piety ordained; could I submit 185

To measured admiration, or to aught

That should preclude humility and love?

I felt, observed, and pondered; did not judge,

Yea, never thought of judging; with the gift

Of all this glory filled and satisfied. 190

And afterwards, when through the gorgeous Alps

Roaming, I carried with me the same heart:

In truth, the degradation--howsoe'er

Induced, effect, in whatsoe'er degree,

Of custom that prepares a partial scale 195

In which the little oft outweighs the great;

Or any other cause that hath been named;

Or lastly, aggravated by the times

And their impassioned sounds, which well might make

The milder minstrelsies of rural scenes 200

Inaudible--was transient; I had known

Too forcibly, too early in my life,

Visitings of imaginative power

For this to last: I shook the habit off

Entirely and for ever, and again 205

In Nature's presence stood, as now I stand,

A sensitive being, a _creative_ soul.

There are in our existence spots of time,

That with distinct pre-eminence retain

A renovating virtue, whence, depressed 210

By false opinion and contentious thought,

Or aught of heavier or more deadly weight,

In trivial occupations, and the round

Of ordinary intercourse, our minds

Are nourished and invisibly repaired; 215

A virtue, by which pleasure is enhanced,

That penetrates, enables us to mount,

When high, more high, and lifts us up when fallen.

This efficacious spirit chiefly lurks

Among those passages of life that give 220

Profoundest knowledge to what point, and how,

The mind is lord and master--outward sense

The obedient servant of her will. Such moments

Are scattered everywhere, taking their date

From our first childhood. [C] I remember well, 225

That once, while yet my inexperienced hand

Could scarcely hold a bridle, with proud hopes

I mounted, and we journeyed towards the hills: [D]

An ancient servant of my father's house

Was with me, my encourager and guide: 230

We had not travelled long, ere some mischance

Disjoined me from my comrade; and, through fear

Dismounting, down the rough and stony moor

I led my horse, and, stumbling on, at length

Came to a bottom, where in former times 235

A murderer had been hung in iron chains.

The gibbet-mast had mouldered down, the bones

And iron case were gone; but on the turf,

Hard by, soon after that fell deed was wrought,

Some unknown hand had carved the murderer's name. 240

The monumental letters were inscribed

In times long past; but still, from year to year,

By superstition of the neighbourhood,

The grass is cleared away, and to this hour

The characters are fresh and visible: 245

A casual glance had shown them, and I fled,

Faltering and faint, and ignorant of the road:

Then, reascending the bare common, saw

A naked pool that lay beneath the hills,

The beacon on the summit, and, more near, 250

A girl, who bore a pitcher on her head,

And seemed with difficult steps to force her way

Against the blowing wind. It was, in truth,

An ordinary sight; but I should need

Colours and words that are unknown to man, 255

To paint the visionary dreariness

Which, while I looked all round for my lost guide,

Invested moorland waste, and naked pool,

The beacon crowning the lone eminence,

The female and her garments vexed and tossed 260

By the strong wind. When, in the blessed hours

Of early love, the loved one at my side, [E]

I roamed, in daily presence of this scene,

Upon the naked pool and dreary crags,

And on the melancholy beacon, fell 265

A spirit of pleasure and youth's golden gleam;

And think ye not with radiance more sublime

For these remembrances, and for the power

They had left behind? So feeling comes in aid

Of feeling, and diversity of strength 270

Attends us, if but once we have been strong.

Oh! mystery of man, from what a depth

Proceed thy honours. I am lost, but see

In simple childhood something of the base

On which thy greatness stands; but this I feel, 275

That from thyself it comes, that thou must give,

Else never canst receive. The days gone by

Return upon me almost from the dawn

Of life: the hiding-places of man's power

Open; I would approach them, but they close. 280

I see by glimpses now; when age comes on,

May scarcely see at all; and I would give,

While yet we may, as far as words can give,

Substance and life to what I feel, enshrining,

Such is my hope, the spirit of the Past 285

For future restoration.--Yet another

Of these memorials;--

One Christmas-time, [F]

On the glad eve of its dear holidays,

Feverish, and tired, and restless, I went forth

Into the fields, impatient for the sight 290

Of those led palfreys that should bear us home;

My brothers and myself. There rose a crag,

That, from the meeting-point of two highways [F]

Ascending, overlooked them both, far stretched;

Thither, uncertain on which road to fix 295

My expectation, thither I repaired,

Scout-like, and gained the summit; 'twas a day

Tempestuous, dark, and wild, and on the grass

I sate half-sheltered by a naked wall;

Upon my right hand couched a single sheep, 300

Upon my left a blasted hawthorn stood;

With those companions at my side, I watched,

Straining my eyes intensely, as the mist

Gave intermitting prospect of the copse

And plain beneath. Ere we to school returned,--305

That dreary time,--ere we had been ten days

Sojourners in my father's house, he died,

And I and my three brothers, orphans then,

Followed his body to the grave. The event,

With all the sorrow that it brought, appeared 310

A chastisement; and when I called to mind

That day so lately past, when from the crag

I looked in such anxiety of hope;

With trite reflections of morality,

Yet in the deepest passion, I bowed low 315

To God, Who thus corrected my desires;

And, afterwards, the wind and sleety rain,

And all the business of the elements,

The single sheep, and the one blasted tree,

And the bleak music from that old stone wall, 320

The noise of wood and water, and the mist

That on the line of each of those two roads

Advanced in such indisputable shapes;

All these were kindred spectacles and sounds

To which I oft repaired, and thence would drink, 325

As at a fountain; and on winter nights,

Down to this very time, when storm and rain

Beat on my roof, or, haply, at noon-day,

While in a grove I walk, whose lofty trees,

Laden with summer's thickest foliage, rock 330

In a strong wind, some working of the spirit,

Some inward agitations thence are brought,

Whate'er their office, whether to beguile

Thoughts over busy in the course they took,

Or animate an hour of vacant ease. 335

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: Compare Shakespeare's "Stealing and giving odour."

('Twelfth Night', act I. scene i. l. 7.)--Ed.]

[Footnote B: Mary Hutchinson.--Ed.]

[Footnote C: Compare the 'Ode, Intimations of Immortality', stanzas v.

and ix.--Ed.]

[Footnote D: Either amongst the Lorton Fells, or the north-western

slopes of Skiddaw.--Ed.]

[Footnote E: His sister.--Ed.]

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 3 (of 8) · 第 24 / 28 段