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388 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH'S MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. EXTRACTS FROM "THE EXCURSION.' | The voice of gladness, less and less supply
Of outward sunshine and internal warmth; Philosophy! and thou more vaunted name | And with this change, sharp air and falling Religion! with thy statelier retinue,
leaves, Faith, hope,and charity, from the visible world Foretelling total Winter, blank and cold. Choose for your emblems whatsoe'er ye find Of safest guidance and of firmest trust,The Torch, the Star, the Anchor; nor except The Cross itself, at whose unconscious feet Alas! what differs more than man from man! The generations of Mankind have knelt And whence that difference? Whence but Ruefully seized, and shedding bitter tears,
from himself? And through that conflict seeking rest-of you, For see the universal Race endowed High-titled Powers, am I constrained to ask, With the same upright form!—The Sun is Here standing, with the unvoyageable sky
fixed In faint reflection of infinitude
And the infinite magnificence of heaven Stretched overhead, and at my pensive feet Within the reach of every human eye; A subterraneous magazine of bones
The sleepless Ocean murmurs for all ears; In'whose dark vaults my own shall soon be The vernal field infuses fresh delight
Into all hearts. Throughout the world of Where are your triumphs? your dominion
Even as an object is sublime or fair, And in what age admitted and confirmed ?" That object is laid open to the view Not for a happy land do I inquire,
Without reserve or veil; and as a power Island or Grove, that hides a blessed few Is salutary, or an influence sweet, Who, with obedience willing and sincere, Are each and all enabled to perceive To your serene authorities conform; That power, that influence, by impartial lav. But whom, I ask, of individual souls, Gifts nobler are vouchsafed alike to all; Have ye withdrawn from passion's crooked Reason,—and with that reason, smiles and ways,
tears ; Inspired, and thoroughly fortified ?-If the Imagination, freedom in the will,
Conscience to guide and check; and death Could be inspected to its inmost folds
to be By sight undazzled with the glare of praise, Foretasted, immortality presumed. Who shall be named-in the resplendent line Strange, then, nor less than monstrous might Of Sages, Martyrs, Confessors—the Man
be deemed Whom the best might of Conscience, Truth The failure, if the Almighty to this point
Liberal and undistinguishing, should hide For one day's little compass, has preserved The excellence of moral qualities From painful and discreditable shocks From common understanding; leaving trath Of contradiction, from some vague desire And virtue, difficult, abstruse, and dark; Culpably cherished, or corrupt relapse Hard to be won, and only by a few; To some unsanctioned fear?
Strange, should he deal herein with nice
respect, And frustrate all the rest! Believe it not:
The primal duties shine aloft-like stars; - In the life of Man, The charities that sooth, and heal, and bless If to the poetry of common speech
Are scattered at the feet of Man-like flowers. Faith may be given, we see as in a glass The generous inclination, the just rule, A true reflection of the circling year, Kind wishes, and good actions, and pare With all its seasons. Grant that Spring is
No mystery it here, no special boon In spite of many a rough untoward blast, For high and not for low, for proudly graced Hopeful and promising with buds and powers; And not for meck of heart. The smoke Yet where is glowing Summer's long rich day,
ascends, That ought to follow faithfully expressed? | To heaven as lightly from the cottage-hearth And mellow Autumn, charged with bounteous As from the haughty palace. He, whose soul
Ponders this true equality, may walk Where is she imaged ? in what favoured clime The fields of earth with gratitude and hope, Her lavish pomp and ripe magnificence? Yet, in that meditation, will he find Yet wbile the better part is missed, the worse Motive to sadder grief, as we have found, In Man's autumnal season is set forth Lamenting ancient virtues overthrown, With a resemblance not to be denied, And for the injustice grieving, that hath And that contents him; bowers that hear
made no more
So wide a difference betwixt Man and Mar.
THE PLEASURES OF MEMOR Y.
Ou could my mind, unfolded in my page, That casement, arched with ivy's browncat Enlighten climes and mould a future age;
shade, There as it glowed, with noblest frenzy First to these eyes the light of heaven confraught,
veyed. Dispense the treasures of exalted thought; The mouldering gateway strews the grassTo virtue wake the pulses of the heart,
grown court, And bid the tear of emulation start! Once the calm scene of many a simple sport; Oh could it still, through each succeeding When nature pleased, for life itself was new,
And the heart promised what the fancy drew. My life, my manners, and my name endear;-) See, thro' the fractured pediment revealed, And when tbe poet sleeps in silent dust, Where moss inlays the rudely-sculptured Still hold communion with the wise and
The martin's old hereditary nest. Yet should this verse, my leasure's best Long may the ruin spare its hallowed guest!
As jars the binge, what sullen echoes call! When through the world it steals its secret Oh haste, unfold the hospitable hall!
| That hall, where once, in antiquated state, Revive but once a generous wish supprest. The chair of justice held the grave debate. Chase but a sigh, or charın a care to rest; Now stained with dews, with cobwebs darkly In one good deed a fleeting hour employ,
hung, Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy ; Oft has its roof with peals of rapture rung; Blest were my lines, though limited their When round yon ample board, in due degree,
We sweetened every meal with social glee. Though short their date, as his who traced The heart's light laugh pursued the circling them here.
jest ; And all was sunshine in each little breast. 'Twas here we chased the slipper by its
And turned the blindfold hero round and PART 1.
'Twas here, at eve, we formed our fairy-ring; Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village And Fancy fluttered on her wildest wing
Giants and genii chained each wondering ear; With magic tints to harmonize the scene. And orphan-sorrows drew the ready tear. Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet Oft with the babes we wandered in the wood,
Or viewed the forest-feats of Robin Hood : When round the ruins of their ancient oak Oft, fancy-led, at midnight's fearful hour, The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, With startling step we scaled the lonely And games and carols closed the busy day.
tower; Her wheel at rest, the matron thrills no more O'er infant innocence to hang and weep, With treasured tales, and legendary lore. Murder'd by ruffian hands, when smiling All, all are fled; nor mirth nor music flows
in its sleep. To chase the dreams of innocent repose. Ye Household Deities! whose guardian eye All, all are fled; yet still I linger here! Marked each pure thought, ere registered What secret charms this silent spot endear? |
on high; Mark yon old Mansion, frowning thro' Still, still ye walk the consecrated ground,
And breathe the soul of Inspiration round. Whose hollow turret wooes the whistling As o'er the dusky furniture I bend,
Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend. The storied arras, source of fond delight, Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear, With old achievement charms the wildered Some little friendship' formed and cherished sight;
here! And still, with Heraldry's rich hues imprest, And not the lightest leaf, but trembling teems On the dim window glows the pictured crest; / With golden visions, and romantic dreams! The screen unfolds its many-coloured chart; Down by yon hazel-copse, at evening, The clock still points its moral to the heart;
blazed That faithful monitor 'twas heaven to hear, The Gipsy's faggot-there we stood and When soft it spoke a promised pleasure
Gazed on her sun-burnt face with silent ave, And has its sober hand, its simple chime, Her tatter'd mantle, and her hood of straw; Forgot to trace the feathered feet of Time? Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er; That massive beam with curious carvings The drowsy brood that on her back she bore,
Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred, Whence the caged linnet soothed my pensive From rifled roost at nightly revel fed;
Whose dark eyes flashed thro' locks of Those muskets, cased with venerable rust;
blackest shade, Those once-loved forms, still breathing thro' When in the breeze the distant watch-dog their dust,
bayed :Still, from the framne in mould gigantic cast, And heroes fled the Sybil's muttered call, Starting to life-all whisper of the past! Whose elfin prowess scaled the orchard-wall.
As thro' the garden's desert paths I rove, As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew, What fond illusions swarm in every grove! And traced the line of life with searching How oft, when purple-evening tinged the
How throbb’d my fluttering pulse with hopes We watched the emmet to her grainy nest;
and fears, Welcomed the wild-bee home on weary wing, To learn the colour of my future years! Laden with sweets, the choicest of the spring! Ah, then, what honest triumph flushed How oft inscribed, with Friendship's votive
my breast! rhyme,
This truth once known-To bless is to be The bark now silvered by the touch of Time;
blest! Soared in the swing, half pleased and half We led the bending beggar on his way,
(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-gray) Thro' sister-elms that waved their summer-Soothed the keen pangs his aged spirit felt,
And on his tale with mute attention dwelt. Or strewed with crumbs yon root-inwoven As in his scrip we dropt our httle store,
And sighed to think that little was no more, To lure the redbreast from his lone retreat! He breathed his prayer: Long may such Childhood's lov'd group revisits every
goodness live! scene,
'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. The tangled wood-walk and the tufted green ! But hark! thro' those old firs, with sullen Indulgent MEMORY wakes, and lo! they live!
swell, Clothed with far softer hues than light can The church-clock strikes! ye tender scenes, give.
farewell! Thou first, best friend that Heaven assigns It calls me hence, beneath their shade, to below,
trace To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know; The few fond lines that Time may
soon Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm,
ellace. When nature fades and life forgets to charm; On yon gray stone, that fronts the chancelThee would the Muse invoke!--to thee
Worn smooth by busy feet now seen no The sage's precept, and the poet's song.
more, What softened views thy magic glass reveals, Each eve we shot the marble thro' the ring. When o'er the landscape Time's meek twi- When the heart danced, and life was in its light steals!
spring; As when in ocean sinks the orb of day, Alas! unconscious of the kindred earth, Long on the wave reflected lustres play; That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth. Thy tempered gleams of happiness resigned The glow-worm loves her emerald light Glance on the darkened inirror of the mind.
to shed, The School's lone porch, with reverend Where now the sexton rests his hoary head.
mosses gray, Oft, as he turned the greensward with his Just tells the pensive pilgrim where it lay.
spade, Mute is the bell that rung at peep of dawn, He lectured every youth that round him Quickening my truant-feet across the lawn:
played; Unheard the shont that rent the noontide air, And calmly pointing where his fathers lay. When the slow dial gave a pause to care. | Roused him to rival each, the hero of his day. shed,
Hush, ye fond flutterings, hush! while | The village-common spotted white with here alone
sheep, I search the records of each mouldering The church-yard-yews round which his stone.
. fathers sleep; Guides of my life! Instructors of my youth! All rouse Reflection's sadly-pleasing train, Who first unveiled the hallowed forın of And oft he looks and weeps, and looks again.
So, when the mild Tupia dared explore Whose every word enlightened and endeared; Arts yet untaught, and worlds unknown In age beloved, in poverty revered;
before, In Friendship's silent register ye live, And, with the song of Science, wooed the Nor ask the vain memorial Art can give.
gale But when the sons of peace and pleasure That, rising, swelled their strange expanse sleep,
of sail; When only Sorrow wakes, and wakes to So, when he breathed his firm yet fond weep,
adieu, What spells entrance my visionary mind Borne from his leafy hut, his carved canoe, With sighs 80 sweet, with transports 60 And all his soul best loved-such tears he
refined? Ethereal Power! whose smile, at noon of While each soft scene of summer-beauty fled :
Long o'er the wave a wistful look he cast, Recalls the far-fled spirit of delight; Long watched the streaming signal from the -Instils that musing, melancholy mood,
mast; Which charms the wise, and elevates the good; Till twilight's dewy tints deceived his eye, Blest MEMORY, hail! Oh grant the grateful And fairy-forests fringed the evening-sky. Muse,
So Scotia's Queen, as slowly dawned the Her pencil dipt in Nature's living hues,
day, To pass the clouds that round thy empire roll, Rose on her couch, and gazed her soul away. And trace its airy precincts in the soul. Her eyes had blessed the beacon's glimmerLulled in the countless chambers of the
ing height, brain,
That faintly tipt the feathery surge with Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden
But now the morn with orient hues porAwake but one, and lo, what myriads rise!
trayed Each stamps its image as the other flies! Each castled cliff and brown monastic shade: Each, as the various avenues of sense All touched the talisman's resistless spring, Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, And lo, what busy tribes were instant on Brightens or fades; yet all, with magic art,
the wing! Controul the latent fibres of the heart. | Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts As studious PROSPERO's mysterious spell
inspire, Convened the subject-spirits to his cell: As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire. Each, at thy call, advances or retires, And hence this spot gives back the joys of As judgment dictates, or the scene inspires.
youth, Each thrills the seat of sense, that sacred Warm as the life, and with the mirror's source
truth. Whence the fine nerves direct their mazy Hence home - felt pleasure prompts the course,
Patriot's sigh; And thro’ the frame invisibly convey This makes him wish to live, and dare to die. The subtle, quick vibrations as they play. For this young FosCARI, whose ha
For this young Foscari, whose hapless fate Survey the globe,each ruder realm explore; Venice should blush to hear the Muse relate, From Reason's faintest ray to NEWTON soar. When exile wore his blooming years away, What different spheres to human bliss as-To sorrow's long soliloquies a prey,
When reason, justice, vainly urg'd his cause, What slow gradations in the scale of mind! For this he rous'd her sanguinary laws; Yet mark in each these mystic wonders Glad to return, tho' Hope could grant no more,
And chains and torture hailed him to the shore. Oh mark the sleepless energies of thought! And hence the charm historic scenes The adventurous boy, that asks his little
Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart. And hies from home with many a gossip's Aerial forms, in Tempe's classic vale,
Glance thro' the gloom, and whisper in the Turns on the neighbouring hill, once more
gale; to see
In wild Vaucluse with love and Laura dwell, The dear abode of peace and privacy; And watch and weep in Eloisa's cell. And as he turns, the thatch among the trees, 'Twas ever thus. As now at Virgil's tomb, The smoke's blue wreaths ascending with We bless the shade and bid the verdure the breeze,
So TULLY paused, amid the wrecks of Time, | The war-worn courser charges at the sound, On the rude stone to trace the truth sublime; And with young vigour wheels the pasture When at his feet, in honoured dust disclosed,
round. The immortal Sage of Syracuse reposed. Oft has the aged tenant of the vale And as his youth in sweet delusion hung, Leaned on his staff to lengthen out the tale; Where once a Prato taught, a PINDAR sung; Oft have his lips the grateful tribute breathed, Who now but meets him musing, when he From sire to son with pious zeal bequeathed.
When o'er the blasted heath the day declined, His ruind Tusculan's romantic groves? And on the scathed oak warred the winterIn Rome's great forum, who but hears him roll
wind; His moral thunders o'er the subject soul? When not a distant taper's twinkling ray And hence that calm delight the portrait Gleamed o'er the furze to light him on his gives :
way; We gaze on every feature till it lives! When not a sheep-bell soothed his listening Still the fond lover sees the absent maid ;
ear, And the lost friend still lingers in his shade! And the big rain-drops told the tempest near; Say why the pensive widow loves to weep, Then did his horse the homeward track When on her knee she rocks her babe to
The track that shunned his sad inquiring eye; Tremblingly still, she lifts his veil to trace And win each wavering purpose to relent, The father's features in his infant face, With warmth so mild, so gently violent, The hoary grandsire smiles the hour away, That his charmed hand the careless rein Won by the raptures of a game at play;
resigned He bends to meet each artless burst of joy, And doubts and terrors vanished from his Forgets his age, and acts again the boy.
mind. What tho' the iron school of War erase Recall the traveller, whose altered form Each milder virtue, and each softer grace; | Has borne the buffet of the mountain-storm; What tho' the fiend's torpedo-touch arrest And who will first his fond impatience meet? Each gentler, finer impulse of the breast; His faithful dog's already at his feet! Still shall this active principle preside, Yes, tho' the porter spurn him from the And wake the tear to Pity's self denied.
door, The intrepid Swiss, who guards a foreign Tho'all that knew him know his face no more,
His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each, Condemned to climb his mountain-cliffs no With that mute eloquence which passes more,
speech. If chance he hears the song so sweetly wild And see, the master but returns to die! Which on those cliffs his infant hours Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly?
The blasts of heaven, the drenching dewe Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him
of earth, rise,
The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth, And sinks a martyr to repentant sighs. These, when to guard Misfortune's sacred Ask not if courts or camps dissolve the
grave, charm :
Will firm Fidelity exult to brave. Say why VESPASIAN lov'd his Sabine farm; ! Led by what chart, transports the timid Why great NAVARRE, when France and
dove freedom bled, The wreaths of conquest, or the vows of Sought the lone limits of a forest-shed ? When DIOCLETIAN's self-corrected mind Say, thro’ the clouds what compass points The imperial fasces of a world resigned,
her flight? Say why we trace the labours of his spade Monarchs have gazed, and nations blessed In calm Salona's philosophic shade?
the sight. Say, when contentious CHARLES renounced a Pile rocks on rocks, bid woods and moun. throne,
tains rise, Tomuse with monks unlettered and unknown, Eclipse her native shades, her native skies; What from his soul the parting tribute drew? 'Tis vain! thro' Ether's pathless wilds she What claimed the sorrows of a last adieu ?
goes, The still retreats that soothed his tranquil And lights at last where all her cares repose.
Sweet bird !thy truth shall Harlem's walls Ere grandeur dazzled, and its cares oppressed.
attest, Undamped by time, the generous Instinct And unborn ages consecrate thy nest.
When with the silent energy of grief, Far as Angola's sande, as Zembla's snow8; With looks that asked, yet dared not hope Glows in the tiger's den, the serpent's nest,
relief, On every form of varied life imprest. Want, with her babes, round generous Valour The social tribes its choicest influence hail:
clung, And, when the drum beats briskly in the gale, To wring the slow surrender from his tongue,