national monument in commemoration of the Battle
of Waterloo_. 1816.
]
OCCASIONED BY THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO[167]
FEBRUARY, 1816
Composed February 4, 1816.--Published 1816
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.
The Bard--whose soul is meek as dawning day,
Yet trained to judgments righteously severe,
Fervid, yet conversànt with holy fear,
As recognising one Almighty sway:
He--whose experienced eye can pierce the array 5
Of past events; to whom, in vision clear,
The aspiring heads of future things appear,
Like mountain-tops whose[168] mists have rolled away--
Assoiled from all encumbrance of our time,[BX]
He only, if such breathe, in strains devout 10
Shall comprehend this victory sublime;
Shall[169] worthily rehearse the hideous rout,
The triumph hail, which from their peaceful clime
Angels might welcome with a choral shout![170]
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 167: 1837.
The title in 1816 was _Occasioned by the same
battle, February 1816_ 1816.
]
[Footnote 168: 1820.
Like mountain-tops whence ... 1816.
]
[Footnote 169: 1837.
And ... 1816.
]
[Footnote 170: 1837.
Which the blest Angels, from their peaceful clime
Beholding, welcomed with a choral shout. 1816.
]
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote BX: "From all this world's encumbrance did himself
assoil."--SPENSER. W. W. 1816.
In a MS. copy of the sonnet, Wordsworth wrote it thus: "In the above is
a line taken from Spenser--
And hanging up his arms and warlike spoil,
From all this world's encumbrance did himself assoil."
ED.
]
"EMPERORS AND KINGS, HOW OFT HAVE TEMPLES RUNG"
Composed 1816.--Published 1827
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.
Emperors and Kings, how oft have temples rung
With impious thanksgiving, the Almighty's scorn!
How oft above their altars have been hung
Trophies that led the good and wise to mourn
Triumphant wrong, battle of battle born, 5
And sorrow that to fruitless sorrow clung!
Now, from Heaven-sanctioned victory, Peace is sprung;[BY]
In this firm hour Salvation lifts her horn.
Glory to arms! But, conscious that the nerve
Of popular reason, long mistrusted, freed 10
Your thrones, ye Powers, from duty fear to swerve![171]
Be just, be grateful; nor, the oppressor's creed
Reviving, heavier chastisement deserve
Than ever forced unpitied hearts to bleed.
VARIANT:
[Footnote 171: 1832.
Your Thrones, from duty, Princes! fear to swerve; 1827.
]
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote BY: From the position of this sonnet in the edition of 1827,
as well as from manifest internal evidence, it refers, like the two
previous ones, to the battle of Waterloo. Illustrations of the first six
lines of the sonnet are too numerous in mediæval history to require
detailed allusion.--ED.]
FEELINGS OF A FRENCH ROYALIST,[172]
ON THE DISINTERMENT OF THE REMAINS OF THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN
Composed 1816.--Published 1816.
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.
Dear Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould
Uprisen--to lodge among ancestral kings;
And to inflict shame's salutary stings
On the remorseless hearts of men grown old
In a blind worship; men perversely bold 5
Even to this hour,--yet, some shall now forsake
Their monstrous Idol if the dead e'er spake,
To warn the living; if truth were ever told
By aught redeemed out of the hollow grave:[173]
O murdered Prince! meek, loyal, pious, brave! 10
The power of retribution once was given:
But 'tis a rueful thought that willow bands
So often tie the thunder-wielding hands
Of Justice sent to earth from highest Heaven!
The Duc d'Enghien, grandson of the Prince de Condé, and only son of the
Duc de Bourbon, born at Chantilly in 1772, commanded the corps of
_Emigrés_ gathered on the Rhine by his grandfather. After the peace of
Luneville, he retired to Ettenheim, near Strasburg, in German territory.
There he married the Princess Charlotte of Rohan-Rochefort, and lived
peacefully as a private citizen. He was, though wholly innocent,
suspected by Napoleon of complicity in the plot of Pichegru, Cadoudal
(one of the Chouans), Moreau, and others, to overthrow him as first
Consul, and to restore the Bourbon dynasty. "The Duke was residing at
Ettenheim, in the neutral territory of Baden, when Bonaparte, in
violation of international law and the rights of the German Empire,
caused him to be seized on the night of 15th March by a party of French
_gens d'armes_, and to be carried to the castle of Vincennes, where,
after a sort of mock trial, he was shot in the fosse of the fortress,
March 21st" (1804).--Dyer's _Modern Europe_ (vol. iv. p. 378). The whole
of the proceedings against the Duc d'Enghien were illegal (as was
confessed by the presiding judge), and his execution was one of the
blackest stains on the character of Napoleon. After the Restoration, in
1814, his remains were disinterred by order of Louis XVIII., and buried
in the chapel of the castle at Vincennes, where the restored king
erected a monument to his memory. The "pit of vilest mould" mentioned in
the sonnet, is, of course, the moat of the castle, and the phrase "to
lodge among ancestral kings," refers to Vincennes having been a royal
residence, where many princes died and were buried, _e.g._ Queen Jeanne
(wife of Philippe le Bel), Louis le Hutin, and Charles le Bel. Vincennes
is close to Paris, the fortress being only about five miles south-east
of the Louvre. The chapel, which has a fine Gothic front, was begun in
1248, and was finished in 1552. The monument to the Duc d'Enghien is in
the old Sacristy. It consists of four figures in marble, representing
the _Duke_, supported by _Religion_ and bewailed by _France_, while
_Vengeance_ waits behind. It was executed by Deseine.--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 172: The first line of the title was added in the edition of
1836, and continued afterwards.]
[Footnote 173: 1840.
Even to this hour; yet at this hour they quake;
And some their monstrous Idol shall forsake,
If to the living truth was ever told
By aught surrendered from the hollow grave: 1816.
To warn the living, truth were ever told 1837.
]
DION
(SEE PLUTARCH)
Composed 1816.--Published 1820
[This poem was first introduced by a stanza that I have since
transferred to the Notes, for reasons there given,[BZ] and I cannot
comply with the request expressed by some of my friends that the
rejected stanza should be restored. I hope they will be content if it
be, hereafter, immediately attached to the poem, instead of its being
degraded to a place in the Notes.--I. F.]
From 1820 to 1843 _Dion_ was classed among the "Poems of Sentiment and
Reflection." In the edition of 1845 it was placed next to _Laodamia_
among the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote BZ: To the edition of 1837, and subsequent ones, Wordsworth
appended the following note:--
This poem began with the following stanza, which has been displaced on
account of its detaining the reader too long from the subject, and as
rather precluding, than preparing for, the due effect of the allusion to
the genius of Plato:--
Fair is the Swan, whose majesty, prevailing
O'er breezeless water, on Locarno's lake,
Bears him on while proudly sailing
He leaves behind a moon-illumined wake:
Behold! the mantling spirit of reserve
Fashions his neck into a goodly curve;
An arch thrown back between luxuriant wings
Of whitest garniture, like fir-tree boughs
To which, on some unruffled morning, clings
A flaky weight of winter's purest snows!
--Behold!--as with a gushing impulse heaves
That downy prow, and softly cleaves
The mirror of the crystal flood,
Vanish inverted hill,[174] and shadowy wood,
And pendent rocks, where'er, in gliding state,
Winds the mute Creature without visible Mate
Or Rival, save the Queen of night
Showering down a silver light,
From heaven, upon her chosen favourite!
In the Fenwick note to _An Evening Walk_, vol. i. p. 5, after describing
the two pairs of swans that frequented the lake of Esthwaite, Wordsworth
says: "It was from the remembrance of those noble creatures, I took,
thirty years after, the picture of the swan which I have discarded from
the poem of _Dion_." After quoting the note, which explains the
discarding of the above stanza, Professor Henry Reed remarks, "It is a
remarkable instance of the comparative sacrifice of a passage of great
beauty to the poet's dutiful regard for the principles of his Art"
(American edition of 1851, p. 415). Wordsworth's reasons for withdrawing
the stanza are obvious; but it is perhaps not unworthy of mention that
when I was editing a volume of _Selections from Wordsworth_, to which
many members of "The Wordsworth Society" contributed, Robert Browning
besought me, in the strongest terms, to restore that discarded
stanza.--ED.]
I
Serene, and fitted to embrace,
Where'er he turned, a swan-like grace[175]
Of haughtiness without pretence,
And to unfold a still magnificence,
Was princely Dion, in the power 5
And beauty of his happier hour.
And what pure homage _then_ did wait
On Dion's virtues, while the lunar beam[176]
Of Plato's genius, from its lofty sphere,
Fell round him in the grove of Academe, 10
Softening their inbred dignity austere--
That he, not too elate
With self-sufficing solitude,
But with majestic lowliness endued,
Might in the universal bosom reign, 15
And from affectionate observance gain
Help, under every change of adverse fate.[177]
II
Five thousand warriors--O the rapturous day![178]
Each crowned with flowers, and armed with spear and shield,
Or ruder weapon which their course might yield,[179] 20
To Syracuse advance[180] in bright array.
Who leads them on?--The anxious people see
Long-exiled Dion marching at their head,
He also crowned with flowers of Sicily,
And in a white, far-beaming, corselet clad! 25
Pure transport undisturbed by doubt or fear
The gazers feel; and, rushing to the plain,
Salute those strangers as a holy train
Or blest procession (to the Immortals dear)
That brought their precious liberty again. 30
Lo! when the gates are entered, on each hand,
Down the long street, rich goblets filled with wine
In seemly order stand,
On tables set, as if for rites divine;--
And, as the great Deliverer marches by, 35
He looks on festal ground with fruits bestrown;
And flowers are on his person thrown[181]
In boundless prodigality;
Nor doth[182] the general voice abstain from prayer,
Invoking Dion's tutelary care, 40
As if a very Deity he were!
III[CA]
Mourn, hills and groves of Attica! and mourn
Ilissus, bending o'er thy classic urn!
Mourn, and lament for him whose spirit dreads 44
Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades!
For him who to divinity aspired,
Not on the breath[183] of popular applause,
But through dependence on the sacred laws
Framed in the schools where Wisdom dwelt retired,
Intent to trace the ideal path of right 50
(More fair than heaven's broad causeway paved with stars)
Which Dion learned to measure with sublime delight;--[184]
But He hath overleaped[185] the eternal bars;
And, following guides whose craft holds no consent
With aught that breathes the ethereal element, 55
Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood,
Unjustly shed, though for the public good.
Whence doubts that came too late, and wishes vain,
Hollow excuses, and triumphant pain;
And oft his cogitations sink as low 60
As, through the abysses of a joyless heart,
The heaviest plummet of despair can go--
But whence that sudden check? that fearful start!
He hears an uncouth sound--
Anon his lifted eyes 65
Saw, at a long-drawn gallery's dusky bound,
A Shape[186] of more than mortal size
And hideous aspect, stalking round and round!
A woman's garb the Phantom wore,
And fiercely swept the marble floor,-- 70
Like Auster whirling to and fro,[187]
His force on Caspian foam to try;
Or Boreas when he scours the snow
That skins the plains of Thessaly,
Or when aloft on Mænalus he stops 75
His flight, 'mid eddying pine-tree tops!
IV
So, but from toil less sign of profit reaping,
The sullen Spectre to her purpose bowed,
Sweeping--vehemently sweeping--
No pause admitted, no design avowed! 80
"Avaunt, inexplicable Guest!--avaunt,"
Exclaimed the Chieftain[188]--"let me rather see
The coronal that coiling vipers make;
The torch that flames with many a lurid flake,
And the long train of doleful pageantry 85
Which they behold,[189] whom vengeful Furies haunt;
Who, while they struggle from the scourge to flee,
Move where the blasted[190] soil is not unworn,
And, in their anguish, bear what other minds have borne!"
V
But Shapes that come not at an earthly call, 90
Will not depart when mortal voices bid;
Lords of the visionary eye whose lid,
Once raised, remains aghast, and will not fall!
Ye Gods, thought He, that servile Implement
Obeys a mystical intent! 95
Your Minister would brush away
The spots that to my soul adhere;
But should she labour night and day,
They will not, cannot disappear;
Whence angry perturbations,--and that look 100
Which no philosophy can brook!
VI
Ill-fated Chief! there are[191] whose hopes are built
Upon the ruins of thy glorious name;[192]
Who, through the portal of one moment's guilt,
Pursue thee with their deadly aim![193] 105
O matchless perfidy![194] portentous lust
Of monstrous crime!--that horror-striking blade,
Drawn in defiance of the Gods, hath laid
The noble Syracusan low in dust!
Shudder'd[195] the walls--the marble city wept-- 110
And sylvan places heaved a pensive sigh;
But[196] in calm peace the appointed Victim slept,
As he had fallen in magnanimity;
Of spirit too capacious to require
That Destiny her course should change; too just 115
To his own native greatness[197] to desire
That wretched boon, days lengthened by mistrust.
So[198] were the hopeless troubles, that involved
The soul of Dion, instantly dissolved.
Released from life and cares of princely state, 120
He left this moral grafted on his Fate;
"Him only pleasure leads, and peace attends,
Him, only him, the shield of Jove defends,
Whose means are fair and spotless as his ends."
* * * * *
The following suggested variations of text also exist in MS.--ED.
Mourn, olive bowers of Attica! and Thou,
Partake the sadness of the groves,
Famed hill Hymettus, round whose fragrant brow,
Industrious bees, each seeking what she loves,
Or fraught with treasure which she best approves,
Their murmurs blend { in choral elevation }
{ with choral animation }
Not wholly lost upon the abstracted ear
Of unambitious men who wander near
Immersed in lonely contemplation.
Mourn, sunny Hill, and shady Grove! and mourn
Ilyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn!
Lament the fall of him whose spirit dreads
Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades!
For He, who to divinity aspired,
Not on the wings of popular applause,
But through dependence on the sacred laws
Framed in the schools where Wisdom dwelt retired,
Meek Wisdom tracing with a steady hand
The path which she alone hath scann'd--
The ideal path of right--
More fair than heaven's broad causeway paved with stars,
Which Dion learned to gaze on with delight;--
But he hath overleap'd the eternal bars,
And following guides whose craft holds no consent
With aught that breathes the ethereal element,
Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood,
Unjustly shed, though for the public good.
Blind choice--for since that day, the chief, the sage,
Prime boast and envy of a glorious age,
Droops, the slave of fear and sorrow;
For since that hour the studious walks and shades,
Whose once sweet memory her Spirit dreads,
Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow,
Hath Dion pined with sharp regret and sorrow.
Lament, ye studious walks and shades,
The fall of Him whose spirit dreads
Your once sweet memory--and mourn
Ilyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn,
For him who ...
Mourn, { sunny hills and groves } of Attica! and mourn
{ olive bowers }
Ilyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn!
Mourn, and lament for him whose spirit dreads
Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades,
For him who ...
... where Wisdom dwelt retired
{ Tracing with steady hand the path of right }
{ Intent to trace the ideal path of right }
... where Wisdom dwelt retired
Tracing assiduously the path of right.
That path which Dion travelled { in } delight.
{with}
Which Dion learned to travel with delight.
Ever since that hour, ye studious walks and shades,
Whose once sweet Memory now his spirit dreads,
Hath Dion pined with sharp regret and sorrow.
Blind choice--for since that word was given, the Sage,
Prime boast and envy of a glorious age,
{Hath droop'd and pined with sharp regret and sorrow,}
{Droops with a burthen of repentant sorrow, }
Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow.
Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood,
Unjustly shed--albeit to prevent
Manifold tumults and incessant strife,
That seemed to hang upon a single life
To whom the calm of general content,
The stedfastness of public good,
Was tiresome as the weight
That presses down the minds of mariners,
When not a billow stirs
On the wide surface of the ocean flood.
{Untractable disturber of the State, }
{Strong is he--and concessions have proved vain,}
{And pardon {only makes } him more elate, }
{ {doth but make} }
{And bolder to transgress again. }
{Untractable disturber of the State, }
{Of popularity the giddy thrall, }
{Ever aspiring to the topmost height,}
{His ears he shuts against the call }
{Of reason--therefore let him fall. }
Infirm decision, slowly won
From Dion's mind--to authorize a deed
Which when the word was uttered--with the speed
Of lightning hurrying through the heav'ns--is done.
{But} since that fatal hour--the chief, the sage,
{For}
That hung upon a single life
{Presumptuous,}
{Bold, } fickle, envious, turbulent,
{Ambitious, }
Ever aspiring to the topmost height;
To whom the calm of general content,
Diffused when order reigned for public good,
Was tiresome ...
Repeated pardons make him more elate,
And bolder to offend again.
He hath provoked his fate;
Deliberative sadness ratifies
The offender's doom, and solemn be his obsequies!
_Yes, let him fall_, decision slowly won
From Dion's mind, to authorize a deed
Which when the word was uttered--with the speed
Of lightning hurrying through the heav'ns--is done.
But since that fated word the {princely } sage,
{chief--the}
Prime boast and envy of a glorious age,
Droops, under burthen of repentant sorrow,
Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow.
He hath provoked his fate:
Ever aspiring to the topmost height,
He shuts his ear against the call
Of Reason, therefore let him fall. MS.
Some years ago I was inclined to assign this poem to the year 1814,
because Wordsworth himself gave it that date in one of the notes which
he dictated to Miss Fenwick in 1843. I now assign it to the year 1816.
Wordsworth gave it that date in the year 1837, and if written in 1814,
I think it would have been included in the edition of 1815.
_Dion_, the _Ode to Lycoris_, and the translation of part of Virgil's
_Æneid_, belong to a time when Wordsworth had reverted to the subjects
of ancient classical literature while preparing his eldest son for the
University.
Charles Lamb wrote thus to Dorothy Wordsworth in 1820:--"The story of
Dion is divine--the genius of Plato falling on him like moonlight--the
finest thing ever expressed." (_The Letters of Charles Lamb_, edited by
Alfred Ainger, vol. ii. p. 56.)
I am indebted to the Headmaster of Fettes College, the Rev. W. A. Heard,
for the following notes on the poem, with special reference to Plutarch.
They reveal, as Mr. Heard remarks, "Wordsworth's method of work upon the
authors he had read and studied, and show upon what a solid structure of
fact he always wrote." It will be observed that he invariably appended
to the title of this poem "(See Plutarch)."
"When Dion, the pupil of Plato, became the autocrat of Syracuse, it
seemed as if the moment had come for the rule of a philosopher. But the
gardens of the Academy knew nothing of the methods by which alone
intrigue could be met and unscrupulousness baffled. The murder of
Heracleides became a political necessity; but when this was conceded,
the charm was once and for ever broken--the career was done. Plutarch's
biography deals mainly with the external conditions, and is overlaid
with so much historical detail that the personality of Dion stands out
in insufficient relief. Wordsworth gives us a study of the internal
struggle, showing us the failure of an ideal, not in its external
aspect, but as closing the aspirations, and desolating the conscience,
of a truly noble mind. He accepts Plutarch's general conception of the
life, incorporating much of the details and adopting some of the
language, but over and above the fresh emphasis he gives to critical
moments, the imaginative insight with which all the detail is treated
makes the poem an original presentation.
_... a swan-like grace
Of haughtiness without pretence._
ὑψηλὸς τῷ ἤθει καὶ μεγαλόφρων.--'He was lofty in his
disposition and large-minded.' Again, Plutarch speaks of
the "σεμνότης"--the 'still magnificence' of his nature,
coupled with "τὸ γενναῖον καὶ ἁπλότης,"
nobility and simplicity.
_Softening their inbred dignity austere._
βουλομένου τοῦ Πλάτωνος ὁμιλίᾳ χάριν ἐχούσῃ καὶ
παιδιᾶς ἐμμελοῦς κατὰ καιρὸν ἁπτομένῃ κεραννύμενον
ἀφηδύνεσθαι τοῦ Δίωνος τὸ ἦθος. Plato tried to soften
the harshness of his disposition by the delights of intercourse,
and the grace of seasonable wit.
_That he, not too elate
With self-sufficing solitude._
This refers to a warning of Plato, ἡ αὐθάδεια ἐρημίᾳ
σύνοικος--Arrogance is the house-mate of solitude.
_Each crowned with flowers ..._
καὶ θεασάμενοι τὸν Δίωνα διὰ τὴν θυσίαν ἐστεφανωμένον
οἱ παρόντες ἀπὸ μιᾶς ὁρμῆς ἐστεφανοῦντο πάντες.--And
seeing Dion wearing a garland on account of the sacrifice, those
that were present with one impulse put on garlands one and all.
_Or ruder weapon which their course might yield._
ὡπλισμένοι δὲ φαύλως ἐκ τοῦ προστυχόντος.--Poorly armed, as chance
enabled them.
_Who leads them on? ..._
Δίων προσερχόμενος ἤδη καταφανὴς ἦν πρῶτος
αὐτὸς ὡπλισμένος λαμπρῶς ... ἐστεφανωμένος.--Dion himself
was already in sight, advancing at their head, clad in
gleaming armour and wearing a garland.
_Salute those strangers as a holy train
Or blest procession (to the Immortals dear)
That brought their precious liberty again._
τῶν Συρακουσίων δεχομένων ὥσπερ ἱεράν τινα
καὶ θεοπρεπῆ πομπὴν ἐλευθερίας καὶ δημοκρατίας δι'
ἐτῶν ὀκτὼ καὶ τεσσαράκοντα κατιούσης εἰς τὴν πόλιν.--The
Syracusans receiving them as a holy procession beseeming the Gods ('to
the Immortals dear'), escorting freedom and democracy back to the city
after an exile of forty-seven years.
_Down the long street, rich goblets filled with wine
In seemly order stand._
ἑκατέρωθεν παρὰ τὴν ὁδὸν τῶν Συρακουσίων
ἱερεῖά τινα καὶ τραπέζας καὶ κρατῆρας ἱστάντων
καὶ καθ' οὓς γένοιτο προχύταις τε βαλλόντων καὶ
προστρεπομένων ὥσπερ θεὸν κατευχαῖς.--The people
setting, on either side the way, victims and tables and bowls of
wine, and as he came opposite, casting flowers upon him, and
supplicating him with prayers as though he were a God.
_Mourn, hills and groves of Attica! and mourn
Ilissus, bending o'er thy classic urn!_
Cf. Milton, _Paradise Regained_, iv. 244:--
See there the olive-grove of Academe,
Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird
Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
Perhaps the idea of Ilissus bending over the urn is taken from the
western pediment of the Parthenon. At one angle there is a recumbent
figure of the Kephissus, at the other of the llissus; originally there
seems to have been a ὑδρία attached to one of them. See _Guide to
Sculptures of the Parthenon_, published at the British Museum.[CB]
_And, following guides whose craft holds no consent
With aught that breathes the ethereal element,
Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood,
Unjustly shed, though for the public good._