Were fellow-travellers in this gloomy Pass, [1]
And with them did we journey several hours
At a slow step. [2] The immeasurable height
Of woods decaying, never to be decayed, 5
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, 10
Black drizzling crags that spake by the wayside
As if a voice were in them, the sick sight
And giddy prospect of the raving stream,
The unfettered clouds and region of the heavens,
Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light--15
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. 20
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1845.
... gloomy strait, 'The Prelude', 1850.]
[Variant 2:
1845.
... pace ... 'The Prelude', 1850.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: This is an extract from the sixth book of 'The Prelude', l.
621. It refers to Wordsworth's first experience of Switzerland, when he
crossed the Alps by the Simplon route, in 1790, in company with his
friend Robert Jones.--Ed.]
* * * * *
NUTTING
Composed 1799.--Published 1800
[Written in Germany; intended as part of a poem on my own life, but
struck out as not being wanted there. Like most of my schoolfellows I
was an impassioned Nutter. For this pleasure, the Vale of Esthwaite,
abounding in coppice wood, furnished a very wide range. These verses
arose out of the remembrance of feelings I had often had when a boy, and
particularly in the extensive woods that still stretch from the side of
Esthwaite Lake towards Graythwaite, the seat of the ancient family of
Sandys.--I.F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.
--It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days that [1] cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope, [2]
I left our cottage-threshold, [A] sallying forth [3] 5
With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung, [4]
A nutting-crook in hand; and turned [5] my steps
Tow'rd some far-distant wood, [6] a Figure quaint,
Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds
Which for that service had been husbanded, 10
By exhortation of my frugal Dame--[7]
Motley accoutrement, of power to smile
At thorns, and brakes, and brambles,--and, in truth,
More ragged than need was! O'er pathless rocks,
Through beds of matted fern, and tangled thickets, 15
Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook [8]
Unvisited, where not a broken bough
Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign
Of devastation; but the hazels rose
Tall and erect, with tempting clusters [9] hung, 20
A virgin scene!--A little while I stood,
Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in; and, with wise restraint
Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed
The banquet;--or beneath the trees I sate 25
Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played;
A temper known to those, who, after long
And weary expectation, have been blest
With sudden happiness beyond all hope.
Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves 30
The violets of five seasons re-appear
And fade, unseen by any human eye;
Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
For ever; and I saw the sparkling foam,
And--with my cheek on one of those green stones 35
That, fleeced with moss, under [10] the shady trees,
Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep--
I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure, 40
The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,
And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash
And merciless ravage: and the shady nook 45
Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower,
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up
Their quiet being: and, unless I now
Confound my present feelings with the past;
Ere from the mutilated bower I turned [11] 50
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky.--[12]
Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades
In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand 55
Touch--for there is a spirit in the woods.
The woods round Esthwaite Lake have undergone considerable change since
Wordsworth's school-days at Hawkshead; but hazel coppice is still
abundant to the south and west of the Lake.--Ed.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1836.
... which ... 1800.]
[Variant 2: This line was added in the edition of 1827.]
[Variant 3:
1827.
When forth I sallied from our cottage-door, 1800.]
[Variant 4:
1832.
And with a wallet o'er my shoulder slung, 1800.
With a huge wallet o'er my shoulder slung, 1815.]
[Variant 5:
1815.
... I turn'd ... 1800.]
[Variant 6:
1836.
Towards the distant woods, ... 1800.
Toward ... 1832.]
[Variant 7:
1815.
... of Beggar's weeds
Put on for the occasion, by advice
And exhortation ... 1800.]
[Variant 8:
1836.
... Among the woods,
And o'er the pathless rocks, I forc'd my way
Until, at length, I came ... 1800.]
[Variant 9:
1845.
... milk-white clusters ... 1800.]
[Variant 10:
1845.
... beneath ... 1800.]
[Variant 11:
1836.
Even then, when from the bower I turn'd away, 1800.]
[Variant 12:
1836.
... and the intruding sky.--1800.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The house at which I was boarded during the time I was at
School.--W. W. 1800.]
* * * * *
WRITTEN IN GERMANY, ON ONE OF THE COLDEST DAYS OF THE CENTURY
Composed 1799.--Published 1800
I must apprize the Reader that the stoves in North Germany generally
have the impression of a galloping Horse upon them, this being part of
the Brunswick Arms.--W. W. 1800.
[A bitter winter it was when these verses were composed by the side of
my sister, in our lodgings at a draper's house, in the romantic imperial
town of Goslar, on the edge of the Hartz Forest. In this town the German
emperors of the Franconian Line were accustomed to keep their court, and
it retains vestiges of ancient splendour. So severe was the cold of this
winter, that when we passed out of the parlour warmed by the stove, our
cheeks were struck by the air as by cold iron. I slept in a room over a
passage that was not ceiled. The people of the house used to say rather
unfeelingly, that they expected I should be frozen to death some night;
but with the protection of a pelisse lined with fur, and a dog's skin
bonnet, such as was worn by the peasants, I walked daily on the
ramparts, or on a sort of public ground or garden, in which was a pond.
Here I had no companion but a kingfisher, a beautiful creature that used
to glance by me. I consequently became much attached to it. During these
walks I composed the poem that follows, _A Poet's Epitaph_.--I.F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection." Wordsworth originally
gave to this poem the title "The Fly," but erased it before
publication.--Ed.
A plague on [1] your languages, German and Norse!
Let me have the song of the kettle;
And the tongs and the poker, instead of that horse
That gallops away with such fury and force
On this [2] dreary dull plate of black metal. 5
[3]
See that Fly, [4]--a disconsolate creature! perhaps
A child of the field or the grove;
And, sorrow for him! the [5] dull treacherous heat
Has seduced the poor fool from his winter retreat,
And he creeps to the edge of my stove. 10
Alas! how he fumbles about the domains
Which this comfortless oven environ!
He cannot find out in what track he must crawl,
Now back to the tiles, then in search of the wall, [6]
And now on the brink of the iron. 15
Stock-still there he stands like a traveller bemazed:
The best of his skill he has tried;
His feelers, methinks, I can see him put forth
To the east and the west, to [7] the south and the north
But he finds neither guide-post nor guide. 20
His spindles [8] sink under him, foot, leg, and thigh!
His eyesight and hearing are lost;
Between life and death his blood freezes and thaws;
And his two pretty pinions of blue dusky gauze
Are glued to his sides by the frost. 25
No brother, no mate [9] has he near him--while I
Can draw warmth from the cheek of my Love;
As blest and as glad, in this desolate gloom,
As if green summer grass were the floor of my room,
And woodbines were hanging above. 30
Yet, God is my witness, thou small helpless Thing!
Thy life I would gladly sustain
Till summer come [10] up from the south, and with crowds
Of thy brethren a march thou should'st sound through the clouds.
And back to the forests again! 35
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1820.
A fig for ... 1800.]
[Variant 2:
1800.
On his ... 1827.
The text of 1837 returns to that of 1800.]
[Variant 3:
Our earth is no doubt made of excellent stuff,
But her pulses beat slower and slower,
The weather in Forty was cutting and rough,
And then, as Heaven knows, the glass stood low enough,
And _now_ it is four degrees lower.
This stanza occurs only in the editions of 1800 to 1815.]
[Variant 4:
1820.
Here's a Fly, ... 1800.]
[Variant 5:
1827.
... this ... 1800.]
[Variant 6:
1837.
... and not back to the wall, 1800.]
[Variant 7:
1827.
... and the South ... 1800.]
[Variant 8:
1845.
See! his spindles ... 1800.
How his spindles ... 1827.]
[Variant 9:
1827.
... no Friend ... 1800.
No brother has he, no companion, while I MS.]
[Variant 10:
1837.
... comes ... 1800.]
* * * * *
A POET'S EPITAPH
Composed 1799.--Published 1800
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--Ed.
Art thou a Statist [1] in the van
Of public conflicts [2] trained and bred?
--First learn to love one living man;
_Then_ may'st thou think upon the dead.
A Lawyer art thou?--draw not nigh! 5
Go, carry to some fitter place
The keenness of that practised eye,
The hardness of that sallow face. [3]
Art thou a Man of purple cheer?
A rosy Man, right plump to see? 10
Approach; yet, Doctor, [A] not too near,
This grave no cushion is for thee.
Or art thou one of gallant pride, [4]
A Soldier and no man of chaff?
Welcome!--but lay thy sword aside, 15
And lean upon a peasant's staff.
Physician art thou?--one, all eyes,
Philosopher!--a fingering slave,
One that would peep and botanize
Upon his mother's grave? 20
Wrapt closely in thy sensual fleece,
O turn aside,--and take, I pray,
That he below may rest in peace,
Thy ever-dwindling soul, away! [5]
A Moralist perchance appears; 25
Led, Heaven knows how! to this poor sod:
And he has neither eyes nor ears;
Himself his world, and his own God;
One to whose smooth-rubbed soul can cling
Nor form, nor feeling, great or [6] small; 30
A reasoning, self-sufficing [7] thing,
An intellectual All-in-all!
Shut close the door; press down the latch;
Sleep in thy intellectual crust;
Nor lose ten tickings of thy watch 35
Near this unprofitable dust.
But who is He, with modest looks,
And clad in homely russet brown? [B]
He murmurs near the running brooks
A music sweeter than their own. 40
He is retired as noontide dew,
Or fountain in a noon-day grove;
And you must love him, ere to you
He will seem worthy of your love.
The outward shows of sky and earth, 45
Of hill and valley, he has viewed;
And impulses of deeper birth
Have come to him in solitude.
In common things that round us lie
Some random truths he can impart,--50
The harvest of a quiet eye
That broods and sleeps on his own heart.
But he is weak; both Man and Boy,
Hath been an idler in the land;
Contented if he might enjoy 55
The things which others understand.
--Come hither in thy hour of strength;
Come, weak as is a breaking wave!
Here stretch thy body at full length;
Or build thy house upon this grave. 60
See the Fenwick note to the poem, 'Written in Germany, on one of the
coldest Days of the Century' (p. 73).
"The 'Poet's Epitaph' is disfigured to my taste by the common satire
upon parsons and lawyers in the beginning, and the coarse epithet of
'pin-point', in the sixth stanza. All the rest is eminently good, and
your own."
(Charles Lamb to William Wordsworth, January 1801.)--Ed.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
... Statesman, ... 1800.]
[Variant 2:
1837.
Of public business ... 1800.]
[Variant 3:
1820.
... to some other place
The hardness of thy coward eye,
The falsehood of thy sallow face. 1800.]
[Variant 4:
1820.
Art thou a man of gallant pride, 1800.]
[Variant 5:
1837.
Thy pin-point of a soul away! 1800.
That abject thing, thy soul, away! 1815.]
[Variant 6:
1837.
... nor ... 1800.]
[Variant 7:
1800.
... self-sufficient ... 1802.
The edition of 1815 returns to the text of 1800.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: D. D., not M. D. The physician is referred to in the fifth
stanza.--Ed.]
[Footnote B: Compare Thomson's description of the Bard, in his 'Castle
of Indolence' (canto ii., stanza xxxiii.):
He came, the bard, a little Druid wight,
Of withered aspect; but his eye was keen,
With sweetness mixed. In russet brown bedight,
He crept along, etc.
Ed.]
* * * * *
"STRANGE FITS OF PASSION HAVE I KNOWN"
Composed 1799.--Published 1800
[Written in Germany, 1799.--I.F.]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections." In MS. Wordsworth gave, as
the title, "A Reverie," but erased it.--Ed.
Strange fits of passion have I known: [1]
And I will dare to tell,
But in the Lover's ear alone,
What once to me befel.
When she I loved looked every day 5
Fresh as a rose in June, [2]
I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath an [3] evening moon.
Upon the moon I fixed my eye,
All over the wide lea; 10
With quickening pace my horse drew nigh [4]
Those paths so dear to me.
And now we reached the orchard-plot;
And, as we climbed the hill,
The sinking moon to Lucy's cot 15
Came near, and nearer still. [5]
In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
Kind Nature's gentlest boon!
And all the while my eyes I kept
On the descending moon. 20
My horse moved on; hoof after hoof
He raised, and never stopped:
When down behind the cottage roof,
At once, the bright moon dropped. [6]
What fond and wayward thoughts will slide 25
Into a Lover's head!
"O mercy!" to myself I cried,
"If Lucy should be dead!"
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1832.
... I have known, 1800.]
[Variant 2:
1836.
When she I lov'd, was strong and gay
And like a rose in June, 1800.]
[Variant 3:
1836.
... the ... 1800.]
[Variant 4:
1836.
My horse trudg'd on, and we drew nigh 1800.]
[Variant 5:
1836.
Towards the roof of Lucy's cot
The moon descended still. [a] 1800.]
[Variant 6:
1815.
... the planet dropp'd. 1800.]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: Compare the lines in Arthur Hugh Clough's poem, 'The
Stream of Life':
And houses stand on either hand
And thou descendest still.
Ed.]
* * * * *
"SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS"
Composed 1799.--Published 1800
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections." In the edition of 1800 it
is entitled 'Song'.--Ed.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love: [1]
A violet by a mossy stone 5
Half hidden from the eye!
--Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived [2] unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be; 10
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1800.
A very few ... 1802.
The text of the edition of 1805 returns to that of 1800.]
[Variant 2: The word "lived" was italicised in the edition of 1800
only.]
* * * * *
"I TRAVELLED AMONG UNKNOWN MEN"
Composed 1799.-Published 1807
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."--Ed.
I travelled among unknown men,
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.
'Tis past, that melancholy dream! 5
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem
To love thee more and more.
Among thy mountains did I feel
The joy of my desire; [1] 10
And she I cherished turned her wheel
Beside an English fire.
Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed
The bowers where Lucy played;
And thine too is the last green field 15
That Lucy's eyes surveyed. [2] [A]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
The gladness of desire; MS.]
[Variant 2:
1836.
And thine is, too, the last green field
Which ... 1807.
That ... 1815.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Compare Sara Coleridge's comment on this poem in the
'Biographia Literaria' (1847), vol. ii. chap. ix. p. 173. Also Mrs.
Oliphant's remarks in her 'Literary History of the Nineteenth Century',
vol. i. pp. 306-9.--Ed.]
* * * * *
"THREE YEARS SHE GREW IN SUN AND SHOWER"
Composed 1799.--Published 1800
[1799. Composed in the Hartz Forest.--I.F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination." It has no title in any edition,
but from 1820 to 1836 the second page occupied by the poem is headed
"Lucy." In the editions of 1836 to 1843 it is called "Lucy" in the list
of contents.--Ed.
Three years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This Child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make 5
A Lady of my own.
"Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse: [1] and with me
The Girl, in rock and plain,
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, 10
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.
"She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs; 15
And her's shall be the breathing balm,
And her's the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
"The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend; 20
Nor shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the Storm
Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form [2]
By silent sympathy.
"The stars of midnight shall be dear 25
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound [A]
Shall pass into her face. 30
"And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live 35
Here in this happy dell."
Thus Nature spake--The work was done--
How soon my Lucy's race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm, and quiet scene; 40
The memory of what has been,
And never more will be. [B]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1800.
Her Teacher I myself will be,
She is my darling;--...
MS. 1801, and the edition of 1802.
The edition of 1805 returns to the text of 1800.]
[Variant 2:
1800.
A reading--printed in the edition of 1800, but replaced in its list of
'errata' by that given in the text--may be quoted here,
A beauty that shall mould her form ... 1800.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Compare Dryden's 'Indian Emperor', iv. 3.--Ed.]
[Footnote B: On Oct 9, 1800, S. T. Coleridge, in writing to Sir Humphry
Davy of his own 'Christabel', said,
"I would rather have written 'Ruth', and 'Nature's Lady,' than a
million such poems."
This poem was printed in 'The Morning Post', March 2nd, 1801.--Ed.]
* * * * *
"A SLUMBER DID MY SPIRIT SEAL"
Composed 1799.--Published 1800
[Written in Germany.--I.F.]
Included among the "Poems of the Imagination." [A]--Ed.
A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force; 5
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees. [B]
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: It was one of the "Lucy" Poems. In his instructions to the
printer in 1807, Wordsworth told him to insert "I travelled among
unknown men" after "A slumber did my spirit seal."--Ed.]
[Footnote B: Compare Suckling's 'Fragmenta Aurea' (The Tragedy of
Brennoralt), p. 170, edition 1658.
Heavens! shall this fresh ornament of the world,
These precious love-lines, pass with other common things,
Amongst the wastes of time? What pity 'twere.
Ed.]
* * * * *
ADDRESS TO THE SCHOLARS OF THE VILLAGE SCHOOL OF--
Composed 1798 or 1799.--Published 1842
[Composed at Goslar, in Germany.--I.F.]
First published in "Poems, chiefly of Early and Late Years," and
included, in 1845, among the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."--Ed.
I come, ye little noisy Crew,
Not long your pastime to prevent;
I heard the blessing which to you
Our common Friend and Father sent.
I kissed his cheek before he died; 5
And when his breath was fled,
I raised, while kneeling by his side,
His hand:--it dropped like lead.
Your hands, dear Little-ones, do all
That can be done, will never fall 10
Like his till they are dead.
By night or day blow foul or fair,
Ne'er will the best of all your train
Play with the locks of his white hair,
Or stand between his knees again. 15
Here did he sit confined for hours;
But he could see the woods and plains,
Could hear the wind and mark the showers
Come streaming down the streaming panes.
Now stretched beneath his grass-green mound 20
He rests a prisoner of the ground.
He loved the breathing air,
He loved the sun, but if it rise
Or set, to him where now he lies,
Brings not a moment's care. 25
Alas! what idle words; but take
The Dirge which for our Master's sake
And yours, love prompted me to make.
The rhymes so homely in attire
With learned ears may ill agree, 30
But chanted by your Orphan Quire
Will make a touching melody.
DIRGE
Mourn, Shepherd, near thy old grey stone;
Thou Angler, by the silent flood;
And mourn when thou art all alone, 35
Thou Woodman, in the distant wood!
Thou one blind Sailor, rich in joy
Though blind, thy tunes in sadness hum;
And mourn, thou poor half-witted Boy!
Born deaf, and living deaf and dumb. 40
Thou drooping sick Man, bless the Guide
Who checked or turned thy headstrong youth,
As he before had sanctified
Thy infancy with heavenly truth.
Ye Striplings, light of heart and gay, 45
Bold settlers on some foreign shore,
Give, when your thoughts are turned this way,
A sigh to him whom we deplore.
For us who here in funeral strain
With one accord our voices raise, 50
Let sorrow overcharged with pain
Be lost in thankfulness and praise.
And when our hearts shall feel a sting
From ill we meet or good we miss,
May touches of his memory bring 55
Fond healing, like a mother's kiss.
BY THE SIDE OF THE GRAVE SOME YEARS AFTER
Long time his pulse hath ceased to beat;
But benefits, his gift, we trace--
Expressed in every eye we meet
Round this dear Vale, his native place. 60
To stately Hall and Cottage rude
Flowed from his life what still they hold,
Light pleasures, every day, renewed;
And blessings half a century old.
Oh true of heart, of spirit gay, 65
Thy faults, where not already gone
From memory, prolong their stay
For charity's sweet sake alone.
Such solace find we for our loss;
And what beyond this thought we crave 70
Comes in the promise from the Cross,
Shining upon thy happy grave.
To this poem, when first published in the "Poems of Early and Late
Years" (1842), Wordsworth appended the note, "See, upon the subject of
the three foregoing pieces, 'The Fountain' [p. 91], etc. etc. in the
fifth volume of the Author's Poems." He thus connects it with the poems
referring to Matthew in such a way that it may be said to belong to that
series; and, while he assigned it to the year 1798, both in the edition
of 1845, and in that of 1849-50, it is quite possible that it was
written in 1799. "The village school" was the Grammar School of
Hawkshead, where Wordsworth spent his boyhood; and the schoolmaster was
the Rev. William Taylor, M. A., Emmanuel College, Cambridge, who was the
third of the four masters who taught in it during Wordsworth's residence
there. He was master from 1782 to 1786. Just before his death he sent
for the upper boys of the school (amongst whom was Wordsworth), and
calling them into his room, took leave of them with a solemn blessing.
This farewell doubtless suggested the lines:
'the blessing which to you
Our common Friend and Father sent.'