Heracleides an incessant opponent in spite of the long forbearance he
had shown him. Feeling that the one obstacle to a settlement must at all
costs be removed, he yielded to advisers whom he had long withstood, and
allowed them to put Heracleides to death. He gave him, however, a public
funeral, and persuaded the people that it was impossible for the State
to have peace on any other conditions.
_But whence that sudden check?..._
ἐτύγχανε μὲν γὰρ ὀψὲ τῆς ἡμέρας καθεζόμενος ἐν
παστάδι τῆς οἰκίας μόνος ὢν πρὸς ἑαυτῷ τὴν
διάνοιαν· ἐξαίφνης δὲ ψόφου γενομένου πρὸς
θατέρῳ πέρατι τῆς στοᾶς, ἀποβλέψας ἔτι φωτὸς
ὄντος εἶδε γυναῖκα μεγάλην στολῇ μὲν καὶ
προσώπῳ μηδὲν Ἐριννύος τραγικῆς παραλλάττουσαν,
σαίρουσαν δὲ καλλύντρῳ τινὶ τὴν οἰκίαν.--He
happened to be sitting late in the evening in a corridor of the house
in solitary meditation: suddenly a sound was heard in the further end
of the portico, and looking up, he saw in the lingering light the form
of a majestic woman, in dress and face like the Fury as she appears in
tragedy--sweeping the house with a brush.
In Plutarch, the apparition is simply ominous of coming evil, his son, a
few days afterwards, throwing himself in a fit of petulance from the
roof of the palace, and his own death shortly following: the moral
significance assigned to it in the poem is Wordsworth's own
interpretation.
_And, in their anguish, bear what other minds have borne!_
In Plutarch, Dion calls his attendants, dreading to be left alone for
fear the spectre should return (παντάπασιν ἐκστατικῶς
ἔχων καὶ δεδοικὼς μὴ πάλιν εἰς ὄψιν αὐτῷ μονωθέν τὸ
τέρας ἀφίκηται). Wordsworth seems to have taken a hint
from this passage, and to have added a tragic intensity by representing
the horror as one which he could share with no one, a supernatural doom
in which he must be absolutely solitary.
_Ill-fated Chief! there are whose hopes are built
Upon the ruins of thy glorious name._
Callippus, an early friend of Dion's in Athens, and bound to him by a
sacred association as he had initiated him into the mysteries, was now
in Syracuse, and for selfish ends was plotting his friend's ruin,
ἐλπίσας Σικελίαν ἆθλον ἕξειν τῆς ξενοκτονίας,
'hoping to get Sicily as the prize of his treachery.'
_O matchless perfidy! portentous lust
Of monstrous crime!..._
Not only was this Callippus his friend, not only had he initiated him
into the mysteries at Athens, a bond of peculiar sanctity, but there was
even a worse perfidy: to allay the suspicions of Dion's household he had
taken '_the awful oath_'. Descending into the sacred enclosure of
Demeter, he had put on the purple robe of the goddess, and taking a
burning torch in his hand, had disowned upon oath any thought of
treachery. Yet in spite of this awful oath, he chose the very festival
of the goddess as the moment for perpetrating the crime.
_... The marble city wept._
Syracuse was one of the most magnificent cities of the ancient world,
and contained a large number of splendid buildings built from the
quarries adjacent to the city. Perhaps the most famous was the great
theatre, the seats of which were formed with slabs of white marble.
_... too just
To his own native greatness to desire
That wretched boon, days lengthened by mistrust._
ὁ μὲν Δίων, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἐπὶ τοῖς κατὰ τὸν Ἡρακλείδην
ἀχθόμενος καὶ τὸν φόνον ἐκεῖνον ὥς τινα τοῦ βίου
καὶ τῶν πράξεων αὐτῷ κηλῖδα περικειμένην,
δυσχεραίνων ἀεὶ καὶ βαρυνόμενος εἶπεν ὅτι πολλάκις
ἤδη θνήσκειν ἕτοιμός ἐστι καὶ παρέχειν τῷ
βουλομένῳ σφάττειν αὑτόν, εἰ ζῆν δεήσει μὴ μόνον
τοὺς ἐχθρούς, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοὺς φίλους φυλαττόμενον.
His relations had been cautioning him against Callippus; but 'Dion,
grieved at heart, it would seem, at the fate of Heracleides, and ever
chafing at and brooding over the murder as a stain upon his life and
conduct, was willing, he said, to die a thousand deaths and yield his
neck to any who would strike the blow, if life was only to be had by
guarding against friends as well as foes.'"--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 174: 1820.
Vanish the dusky hill, ... MS.
]
[Footnote 175: 1837.
So pure, so bright, so fitted to embrace,
Where'er he turn'd, a natural grace MS. and 1820.
]
[Footnote 176: 1837.
Nor less the homage that was seen to wait
On Dion's virtues, when the lunar beam MS. and 1820.
]
[Footnote 177: 1820.
Softening his inbred dignity austere.
If on thy path the world delight to gaze,
Pride of the world--beware! for thou may'st live,
Like Dion, to behold the torch of Praise
Inverted in thy presence, and to give
Proof, for the historian's page and poet's lays,
That Peace, even Peace herself, is fugitive. MS.
]
[Footnote 178: 1820.
... joyful day! MS.
]
[Footnote 179: 1820.
... such as chance might yield, MS.
]
[Footnote 180: 1820.
... advanc'd ... MS.
]
[Footnote 181: 1827.
And, wheresoe'er the great Deliverer passed,
Fruits were strewn before his eye,
And flowers upon his person cast MS. and 1820.
]
[Footnote 182: 1827.
... did ... 1820.
]
[Footnote 183: 1820.
... wings ... MS.
]
[Footnote 184: 1837.
... to measure with delight; 1820.
... to gaze on with delight; MS.
]
[Footnote 185: 1820.
Now hath he overleaped ... 1837.
The edition of 1840 returns to the text of 1820.
]
[Footnote 186: 1820.
... gallery's farthest bound,
A formidable shape ... MS.
]
[Footnote 187: 1820.
Like winged Auster stooping low, MS.
]
[Footnote 188: 1827.
Intrusive Presence!-- ... 1820.
]
[Footnote 189: 1820.
Sweeping--vehemently sweeping--
Long gazed the chieftain--ere he spake--aloud--
With even voice and stern composure wrought
Into his brow by self-supporting thought:
"Avaunt, inexplicable Guest--avaunt,
Intrusive Phantom! let me rather see
What they behold ... MS.
Sweeping--vehemently sweeping--
No pause admitted--no design avowed!
Breathless the chieftain gazed--at length,
Endeavouring to collect his strength,
With pallid cheek and rueful brow,
And a half-pleading, a half-threatening eye,
Such as the Fates exclusively allow
For the behoof of suffering majesty,
He rose and spake aloud--
"Intrusive Presence! let me rather see
What they behold, ... MS.
]
[Footnote 190: 1820.
... wretched ... MS.
]
[Footnote 191: 1820.
Ill-fated Lord! O, there are ... MS.
Afflicted chief! ... MS.
]
[Footnote 192: 1820.
Upon the basis of thy ruined name; MS.
]
[Footnote 193: 1820.
... name;
Away--for hark a rushing sound,
A conflict--and a groan profound! MS.
]
[Footnote 194: 1820.
O monstrous perfidy! ... MS.
]
[Footnote 195: 1832.
Shudder ... 1820.
]
[Footnote 196: 1820.
While ... MS.
]
[Footnote 197: 1820.
To his inborn greatness ... MS.
]
[Footnote 198: 1820.
Thus ... MS.
]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote CA: See, at the close of the poem (p. 122), several
experimental renderings of this stanza, printed from MS.--ED.]
[Footnote CB: That Wordsworth knew the Elgin marbles--where the
half-recumbent Ilissus, a torso, is one of the finest pieces of the
pediment--is certain. There is a reproduction of it in his nephew's (the
late Bishop of Lincoln's) book on _Greece_. In Henry Crabb Robinson's
_Diary_ (vol. ii. p. 195) there is an interesting account of the poet's
visit to the British Museum, to see the Elgin marbles, etc. See also the
_Autobiography of B. R. Haydon_, where, in a letter to the artist,
Wordsworth says, "I am not surprised to hear that Canova expressed
himself highly pleased with the Elgin marbles: a man must be senseless
as a clod, or as perverse as a fiend, not to be enraptured with them"
(vol. i. p. 325).--ED.]
A FACT, AND AN IMAGINATION;
OR, CANUTE AND ALFRED, ON THE SEA-SHORE[199]
Composed 1816.--Published 1820
[The first and last fourteen lines of this poem each make a sonnet, and
were composed as such; but I thought that by intermediate lines they
might be connected so as to make a whole. One or two expressions are
taken from Milton's _History of England_.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--ED.
The Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair,
Mustering a face of haughty[200] sovereignty,
To aid a covert purpose, cried--"O ye
Approaching Waters of the deep, that share
With this green isle my fortunes, come not where 5
Your Master's throne is set."--Deaf was the Sea;
Her waves rolled on, respecting his decree
Less than they heed a breath of wanton air.[201]
--Then Canute, rising from the invaded throne,
Said to his servile Courtiers,--"Poor the reach,[202] 10
The undisguised extent, of mortal sway!
He only is a King, and he alone
Deserves the name (this truth the billows preach)
Whose everlasting laws, sea, earth, and heaven, obey."
This just reproof the prosperous Dane 15
Drew from the influx of the main,
For some whose rugged northern mouths would strain
At oriental flattery;
And Canute (fact more worthy to be known)[203]
From that time forth did for his brows disown 20
The ostentatious symbol of a crown;
Esteeming earthly royalty
Contemptible as vain.[204]
Now hear what one of elder days,
Rich theme of England's fondest praise, 25
Her darling Alfred, _might_ have spoken;[205]
To cheer the remnant of his host
When he was driven from coast to coast,
Distressed and harassed, but with mind unbroken:[206]
"My faithful followers, lo! the tide is spent 30
That rose, and steadily advanced to fill
The shores and channels, working Nature's will
Among the mazy streams that backward went,
And in the sluggish pools where ships are pent: 34
And now, his[207] task performed, the flood stands still,
At the green base of many an inland hill,[CC]
In placid beauty and sublime content![208]
Such the repose that sage and hero find;
Such measured rest the sedulous and good
Of humbler name; whose souls do, like the flood 40
Of Ocean, press right on; or gently wind,
Neither to be diverted nor withstood,
Until they reach the bounds by Heaven assigned."
The passage from Milton's _History of England_ (book vi.), referred to
in the Fenwick note, relates an incident, "which" (as Milton justly
says), "unless to Court-Parasites, needed no such laborious
demonstration." There is only one expression borrowed by Wordsworth:
"The Sea, as before, came rolling on, ... whereat the King, quickly
rising, wished all about him to behold and consider the weak and
frivolous form of a King, and that none indeed deserved the name of a
King, but he whose Eternal Laws both Heaven, Earth, and Sea obey."--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 199: 1820.
... by the sea-side. MS.
]
[Footnote 200: 1820.
... haughtiest ... MS.
]
[Footnote 201: 1840.
Your Master's throne is set!"--Absurd decree!
A mandate uttered to the foaming sea,
Is to its motions less than wanton air. MS. and 1820.
]
[Footnote 202: 1820.
Said to his Courtiers, Scanty is the reach, MS.
]
[Footnote 203: 1845.
And Canute (truth ... MS. and 1820.
And Canute, which is worthiest to be known, MS.
... what ... MS.
And in the self same Page is told that he MS.
]
[Footnote 204: 1857.
Contemptible and vain. MS. and 1820.
]
[Footnote 205: 1820.
... have taught
The Sea, the prompter of his thought,
Such words as these methinks he might have spoken MS.
]
[Footnote 206: 1820.
Distressed but not down broken: MS.
]
[Footnote 207: 1837.
... its ... MS. and 1820.
]
[Footnote 208: 1820.
... entire content. MS.
]
"A LITTLE ONWARD LEND THY GUIDING HAND"
Composed 1816.--Published 1820
[The complaint in my eyes, which gave occasion to this address to my
daughter, first showed itself as a consequence of inflammation, caught
at the top of Kirkstone, when I was over-heated by having carried up the
ascent my eldest son, a lusty infant. Frequently has the disease
recurred since, leaving my eyes in a state which has often prevented my
reading for months, and makes me at this day incapable of bearing
without injury any strong light by day or night. My acquaintance with
books has therefore been far short of my wishes; and on this account, to
acknowledge the services daily and hourly done me by my family and
friends, this note is written.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."--ED.
"_A little onward lend thy guiding hand
To these dark steps, a little further on!_"[CD]
--What trick of memory to _my_ voice hath brought
This mournful iteration? For though Time, 4
The Conqueror, crowns the Conquered, on this brow
Planting his favourite silver diadem,
Nor he, nor minister of his--intent
To run before him, hath enrolled me yet,
Though not unmenaced, among those who lean
Upon a living staff, with borrowed sight. 10
--O my own Dora, my belovèd child![209][CE]
Should that day come--but hark! the birds salute
The cheerful dawn, brightening for me the east;
For me, thy natural leader, once again
Impatient to conduct thee, not as erst 15
A tottering infant, with compliant stoop
From flower to flower supported; but to curb
Thy nymph-like step swift bounding o'er the lawn,[CF]
Along the loose rocks, or the slippery verge
Of foaming torrents.[210]--From thy orisons 20
Come forth; and, while the morning air is yet
Transparent as the soul of innocent youth,
Let me, thy happy guide, now point thy way,
And now precede thee, winding to and fro,
Till we by perseverance gain the top 25
Of some smooth ridge, whose brink precipitous
Kindles intense desire for powers withheld
From this corporeal frame; whereon who stands,
Is seized with strong incitement to push forth
His arms, as swimmers use, and plunge--dread thought,
For pastime plunge--into the "abrupt abyss,"[CG] 31
Where ravens spread their plumy vans, at ease!
And yet more gladly thee would I conduct
Through woods and spacious forests,--to behold
There, how the Original of human art, 35
Heaven-prompted Nature, measures and erects
Her temples, fearless for the stately work,
Though waves, to every breeze,[211] its high-arched roof,
And storms the pillars rock. But we such schools
Of reverential awe will chiefly seek 40
In the still summer noon, while beams of light,
Reposing here, and in the aisles beyond
Traceably gliding through the dusk, recal
To mind the living presences of nuns;
A gentle, pensive, white-robed sisterhood, 45
Whose saintly radiance mitigates the gloom
Of those terrestrial fabrics, where they serve,
To Christ, the Sun of righteousness, espoused.
Now also shall the page of classic lore,
To these glad eyes from bondage freed, again 50
Lie open; and the book of Holy Writ,
Again unfolded, passage clear shall yield
To heights more glorious still, and into shades
More awful, where, advancing hand in hand,
We may be taught, O Darling of my care! 55
To calm the affections, elevate the soul,
And consecrate our lives to truth and love.[212]
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 209: 1850.
--O my Antigone, beloved child! 1820.
]
[Footnote 210: 1837.
... torrent ... 1827.
]
[Footnote 211: 1837.
Though waves in every breeze ... 1820.
]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote CC: Compare Tennyson, _In Memoriam_, stanza xix.--
There twice a day the Severn fills;
The salt sea-water passes by,
And hushes half the babbling Wye,
And makes a silence in the hills.
ED.
]
[Footnote CD: The opening lines of Milton's _Samson Agonistes_. Compare
also _The Wanderings of Cain_ (canto ii. l. 1), by S. T. Coleridge: "A
little farther, O my father, yet a little farther, and we shall come
into the open moonlight." ... "Lead on, my child!" said Cain; "guide me,
little child!"--ED.]
[Footnote CE: Dora Wordsworth died in 1847, a loss which cast a gloom
over her father's remaining years; and it is not without interest that
in the last revision of the text of his poems, in the year of his own
death, he substituted
O my own Dora, my belovèd child!
for the earlier reading,
O my Antigone, beloved child!
ED.
]
[Footnote CF: Compare in the lines on Lucy, beginning, "Three years she
grew in sun and shower" (vol. ii. p. 81)--
She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs.
ED.
]
[Footnote CG: Compare _Paradise Lost_, book ii. l. 409.--ED.]
TO ----,
ON HER FIRST ASCENT TO THE SUMMIT OF HELVELLYN
Composed 1816.--Published 1820.
[Written at Rydal Mount. The lady was Miss Blackett, then residing with
Mr. Montagu Burgoyne at Fox-Ghyll. We were tempted to remain too long
upon the mountain; and I, imprudently, with the hope of shortening the
way led her among the crags and down a steep slope which entangled us in
difficulties that were met by her with much spirit and courage.--I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
Inmate of a mountain-dwelling,
Thou hast clomb aloft, and gazed
From the watch-towers of Helvellyn;
Awed, delighted, and amazed!
Potent was the spell that bound thee 5
Not unwilling to obey:[213]
For[214] blue Ether's arms, flung round thee,
Stilled the pantings of dismay.
Lo! the dwindled woods and meadows;
What a vast abyss is there! 10
Lo! the clouds, the solemn shadows,
And the glistenings--heavenly fair!
And a record of commotion
Which a thousand ridges yield;
Ridge, and gulf, and distant ocean 15
Gleaming like a silver shield!
Maiden! now take flight;--inherit[215]
Alps or Andes--they are thine!
With the morning's roseate Spirit,
Sweep their length of snowy line; 20
Or survey their[216] bright dominions
In the gorgeous colours drest
Flung from off the purple pinions,
Evening spreads throughout the west![217]
Thine are all the coral[218] fountains 25
Warbling in each sparry vault[219]
Of the untrodden lunar mountains;
Listen to their songs!--or halt,
To Niphates' top invited,[CH]
Whither spiteful Satan steered; 30
Or descend where the ark alighted,
When the green earth re-appeared;
For the power of hills is on thee,
As was witnessed through thine eye
Then, when old Helvellyn won thee 35
To confess their majesty!
With these stanzas to Miss Blackett, compare those addressed by
Wordsworth to his sister, published in 1807, under the title _To a Young
Lady, who had been reproached for taking Long Walks in the Country_; and
the poem entitled _Louisa, after accompanying her on a Mountain
Excursion_, also referring to his sister (vol. ii. pp. 362, 365).--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 212: 1827.
Re-open now thy everlasting gates,
Thou Fane of Holy Writ! ye classic Domes,
To these glad orbs from darksome bondage freed,
Unfold again your portals! Passage lies
Through you to heights more glorious still, and shades
More awful, where this Darling of my care,
Advancing with me hand in hand, may learn,
Without forsaking a too earnest world,
To calm the affections, elevate the soul,
And consecrate her life to truth and love. 1820.
]
[Footnote 213: 1827.
In the moment of dismay, MS. and 1820.
]
[Footnote 214: 1832.
While ... 1820.
]
[Footnote 215: 1845.
--Take thy flight;--possess, inherit MS. and 1820.
Now--take flight;--possess, inherit 1836.
]
[Footnote 216: 1836.
... the ... 1820.
... thy ... MS.
]
[Footnote 217: 1820.
Or adopt the purple pinions
Evening spreads throughout the west,
And survey thy new dominions
In that bright reflection drest. MS.
]
[Footnote 218: 1832.
... choral ... 1820.
]
[Footnote 219: 1820.
... sparkling vault MS.
]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote CH: A mountain in Asia, dividing Armenia from Assyria, whence
the river Tigris has its source.
Satan, bowing low,
* * * * *
Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel,
Nor staid till on _Niphates'_ top he lights.
_Paradise Lost_, book iii. ll. 736-742.
ED.
]
1817
The year 1817 was not specially productive of new poems. They may be
arranged thus, _The Vernal Ode_, _The Ode to Lycoris_, its _Sequel_,
_The Longest Day_, _The Pass of Kirkstone_, _Hints from the Mountains_,
and the _Lament of Mary Queen of Scots_.
VERNAL ODE[220]
Composed 1817.--Published 1820
[Composed at Rydal Mount, to place in view the immortality of succession
where immortality is denied, as far as we know, to the individual
creature.--I. F.][CI]
Rerum Natura tota est nusquam magis quam in minimis.
PLIN. _Nat. Hist._[CJ]
This _Vernal Ode_ was first published in the volume entitled "The River
Duddon, a series of Sonnets: Vaudracour and Julia: and other poems. To
which is annexed, a Topographical Description of the Country of the
Lakes, in the north of England." In that volume its title was
_Ode.--1817_. In 1820 it was placed among the "Poems of the
Imagination." Its title was merely _Ode_, and in the table of contents
it was called "Beneath the Concave"; the page heading "Vernal Ode" being
given to it on the last three of its six pages. In 1827, and 1832, it
was transferred to the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection." In 1836 it
was returned to the class of "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.
I
Beneath the concave of an April sky,
When all the fields with freshest green were dight,
Appeared, in presence of the[221] spiritual eye
That aids or supersedes our grosser sight,
The form and rich habiliments of One 5
Whose countenance bore resemblance to the sun,
When it reveals, in evening majesty,
Features half lost amid their own pure light.
Poised like a weary cloud, in middle air[222]
He hung,--then floated with angelic ease 10
(Softening that bright effulgence by degrees)
Till he had reached a summit sharp and bare,[223]
Where oft the venturous heifer drinks the noontide[224] breeze.
Upon the apex of that lofty cone
Alighted, there the Stranger stood alone; 15
Fair as a gorgeous Fabric of the east
Suddenly raised by some enchanter's power,
Where nothing was; and firm as some old Tower
Of Britain's realm, whose leafy crest
Waves high, embellished by a gleaming shower! 20
II
Beneath the shadow of his purple wings
Rested a golden harp;--he touched the strings;
And, after prelude of unearthly sound
Poured through the echoing hills around,
He sang--
"No wintry desolations, 25
Scorching blight or noxious dew,
Affect my native habitations;
Buried in glory, far beyond the scope
Of man's inquiring gaze, but to his hope
Imaged, though faintly, in the hue[225] 30
Profound of night's ethereal blue;
And in the aspect of each radiant orb:--
Some fixed, some wandering with no timid curb:
But wandering star[226] and fixed, to mortal eye,
Blended in absolute serenity, 35
And free from semblance of decline;--
Fresh as if Evening brought their natal hour,
Her darkness splendour gave, her silence power,
To testify of Love and Grace divine.[227]
III[CK]
What if those bright fires 40
Shine subject to decay,
Sons haply of extinguished sires,
Themselves to lose their light, or pass away
Like clouds before the wind, 44
Be thanks poured out to Him whose hand bestows,
Nightly, on human kind
That vision[228] of endurance and repose.
--And though to every draught of vital breath
Renewed throughout the bounds of earth or ocean,
The melancholy gates of Death 50
Respond with sympathetic motion;[229]
Though all that feeds on nether air,
Howe'er magnificent or fair,
Grows but to perish, and entrust
Its ruins to their kindred dust: 55
Yet, by the Almighty's[230] ever-during care,
Her procreant vigils[231] Nature keeps
Amid the unfathomable deeps;
And saves the peopled[232] fields of earth
From dread[233] of emptiness or dearth. 60
Thus, in their stations, lifting tow'rd[234] the sky
The foliaged head in cloud-like majesty,
The shadow-casting race of trees survive:
Thus, in the train of Spring, arrive
Sweet flowers;--what living eye hath viewed 65
Their myriads?[235]--endlessly renewed,
Wherever strikes the sun's glad ray;
Where'er the subtle[236] waters stray;
Wherever sportive breezes[237] bend
Their course, or genial showers descend![238] 70
Mortals, rejoice![239] the very Angels quit
Their mansions unsusceptible of change,
Amid your pleasant bowers to sit,
And through your sweet vicissitudes to range!"
IV