The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth - (Edited by William Knight)
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And as on glorious ground he draws his breath,
Where Freedom oft, with Victory and Death,
Hath seen in grim array amid their Storms
Mix'd with auxiliar Rocks, three [X] hundred Forms;
While twice ten thousand corselets at the view 540
Dropp'd loud at once, Oppression shriek'd, and flew.
Oft as those sainted Rocks before him spread,
An unknown power connects him with the dead.
For images of other worlds are there,
Awful the light, and holy is the air. 545
Uncertain thro' his fierce uncultur'd soul
Like lighted tempests troubled transports roll;
To viewless realms his Spirit towers amain,
Beyond the senses and their little reign.
And oft, when pass'd that solemn vision by, 550
He holds with God himself communion high,
When the dread peal of swelling torrents fills
The sky-roof'd temple of th' eternal hills,
And savage Nature humbly joins the rite,
While flash her upward eyes severe delight. 555
Or gazing from the mountain's silent brow,
Bright stars of ice and azure worlds of snow,
Where needle peaks of granite shooting bare
Tremble in ever-varying tints of air,
Great joy by horror tam'd dilates his heart, 560
And the near heav'ns their own delights impart.
--When the Sun bids the gorgeous scene farewell,
Alps overlooking Alps their state upswell;
Huge Pikes of Darkness nam'd, of [Y] Fear and Storms
Lift, all serene, their still, illumin'd forms, 565
In sea-like reach of prospect round him spread,
Ting'd like an angel's smile all rosy red.
When downward to his winter hut he goes,
Dear and more dear the lessening circle grows,
That hut which from the hills his eyes employs 570
So oft, the central point of all his joys.
And as a swift by tender cares oppress'd
Peeps often ere she dart into her nest,
So to th' untrodden floor, where round him looks
His father helpless as the babe he rocks, 575
Oft he descends to nurse the brother pair,
Till storm and driving ice blockade him there;
There hears, protected by the woods behind,
Secure, the chiding of the baffled wind,
Hears Winter, calling all his Terrors round, 580
Rush down the living rocks with whirlwind sound.
Thro' Nature's vale his homely pleasures glide
Unstain'd by envy, discontent, and pride,
The bound of all his vanity to deck
With one bright bell a favourite heifer's neck; 585
Content upon some simple annual feast,
Remember'd half the year, and hop'd the rest,
If dairy produce, from his inner hoard,
Of thrice ten summers consecrate the board.
--Alas! in every clime a flying ray 590
Is all we have to chear our wintry way,
Condemn'd, in mists and tempests ever rife,
To pant slow up the endless Alp of life.
"Here," cried a swain, whose venerable head
Bloom'd with the snow-drops of Man's narrow bed, 595
Last night, while by his dying fire, as clos'd
The day, in luxury my limbs repos'd,
"Here Penury oft from misery's mount will guide
Ev'n to the summer door his icy tide,
And here the avalanche of Death destroy 600
The little cottage of domestic Joy.
But, ah! th' unwilling mind may more than trace
The general sorrows of the human race:
The churlish gales, that unremitting blow
Cold from necessity's continual snow, 605
To us the gentle groups of bliss deny
That on the noon-day bank of leisure lie.
Yet more; the tyrant Genius, still at strife
With all the tender Charities of life,
When close and closer they begin to strain, 610
No fond hand left to staunch th' unclosing vein,
Tearing their bleeding ties leaves Age to groan
On his wet bed, abandon'd and alone.
For ever, fast as they of strength become
To pay the filial debt, for food to roam, 615
The father, forc'd by Powers that only deign
That solitary Man disturb their reign,
From his bare nest amid the storms of heaven
Drives, eagle-like, his sons as he was driven,
His last dread pleasure! watches to the plain-- 620
And never, eagle-like, beholds again." [Z]
When the poor heart has all its joys resign'd,
Why does their sad remembrance cleave behind?
Lo! by the lazy Seine the exile roves,
Or where thick sails illume Batavia's groves; 625
Soft o'er the waters mournful measures swell,
Unlocking bleeding Thought's "memorial cell";
At once upon his heart Despair has set
Her seal, the mortal tear his cheek has wet;
Strong poison not a form of steel can brave 630
Bows his young hairs with sorrow to the grave.
Gay lark of hope thy silent song resume!
Fair smiling lights the purpled hills illume!
Soft gales and dews of life's delicious morn,
And thou, lost fragrance of the heart return! 635
[Aa] Soon flies the little joy to man allow'd,
And tears before him travel like a cloud.
For come Diseases on, and Penury's rage,
Labour, and Pain, and Grief, and joyless Age,
And Conscience dogging close his bleeding way 640
Cries out, and leads her Spectres to their prey,
'Till Hope-deserted, long in vain his breath
Implores the dreadful untried sleep of Death.
--Mid savage rocks and seas of snow that shine
Between interminable tracts of pine, 645
Round a lone fane the human Genii mourn,
Where fierce the rays of woe collected burn.
--From viewless lamps a ghastly dimness falls,
And ebbs uncertain on the troubled walls,
Dim dreadful faces thro' the gloom appear, 650
Abortive Joy, and Hope that works in fear,
While strives a secret Power to hush the crowd,
Pain's wild rebellious burst proclaims her rights aloud.
Oh give not me that eye of hard disdain
That views undimm'd Einsiedlen's [Bb] wretched fane. 655
Mid muttering prayers all sounds of torment meet,
Dire clap of hands, distracted chafe of feet,
While loud and dull ascends the weeping cry,
Surely in other thoughts contempt may die.
If the sad grave of human ignorance bear 660
One flower of hope--Oh pass and leave it there.
--The tall Sun, tiptoe on an Alpine spire,
Flings o'er the desert blood-red streams of fire.
At such an hour there are who love to stray,
And meet the gladdening pilgrims on their way. 665
--Now with joy's tearful kiss each other greet,
Nor longer naked be your way-worn feet,
For ye have reach'd at last that happy shore,
Where the charm'd worm of pain shall gnaw no more.
How gayly murmur and how sweetly taste 670
The [Cc] fountains rear'd for you amid the waste!
Yes I will see you when ye first behold
Those turrets tipp'd by hope with morning gold,
And watch, while on your brows the cross ye make,
Round your pale eyes a wintry lustre wake. 675
--Without one hope her written griefs to blot,
Save in the land where all things are forgot,
My heart, alive to transports long unknown,
Half wishes your delusion were it's own.
Last let us turn to where Chamouny [Dd] shields, 680
Bosom'd in gloomy woods, her golden fields,
Five streams of ice amid her cots descend,
And with wild flowers and blooming orchards blend,
A scene more fair than what the Grecian feigns
Of purple lights and ever vernal plains. 685
Here lawns and shades by breezy rivulets fann'd,
Here all the Seasons revel hand in hand,
--Red stream the cottage lights; the landscape fades,
Erroneous wavering mid the twilight shades.
Alone ascends that mountain nam'd of white, [Ee] 690
That dallies with the Sun the summer night.
Six thousand years amid his lonely bounds
The voice of Ruin, day and night, resounds.
Where Horror-led his sea of ice assails,
Havoc and Chaos blast a thousand vales, 695
In waves, like two enormous serpents, wind
And drag their length of deluge train behind.
Between the pines enormous boughs descry'd
Serene he towers, in deepest purple dy'd;
Glad Day-light laughs upon his top of snow, 700
Glitter the stars above, and all is black below.
At such an hour I heav'd the human sigh,
When roar'd the sullen Arve in anger by,
That not for thee, delicious vale! unfold
Thy reddening orchards, and thy fields of gold; 705
That thou, the [Ff] slave of slaves, art doom'd to pine,
While no Italian arts their charms combine
To teach the skirt of thy dark cloud to shine;
For thy poor babes that, hurrying from the door,
With pale-blue hands, and eyes that fix'd implore, 710
Dead muttering lips, and hair of hungry white,
Besiege the traveller whom they half affright.
--Yes, were it mine, the cottage meal to share
Forc'd from my native mountains bleak and bare;
O'er [Gg] Anet's hopeless seas of marsh to stray, 715
Her shrill winds roaring round my lonely way;
To scent the sweets of Piedmont's breathing rose,
And orange gale that o'er Lugano blows;
In the wide range of many a weary round,
Still have my pilgrim feet unfailing found, 720
As despot courts their blaze of gems display,
Ev'n by the secret cottage far away
The lilly of domestic joy decay;
While Freedom's farthest hamlets blessings share,
Found still beneath her smile, and only there. 725
The casement shade more luscious woodbine binds,
And to the door a neater pathway winds,
At early morn the careful housewife, led
To cull her dinner from it's garden bed,
Of weedless herbs a healthier prospect sees, 730
While hum with busier joy her happy bees;
In brighter rows her table wealth aspires,
And laugh with merrier blaze her evening fires;
Her infant's cheeks with fresher roses glow,
And wilder graces sport around their brow; 735
By clearer taper lit a cleanlier board
Receives at supper hour her tempting hoard;
The chamber hearth with fresher boughs is spread,
And whiter is the hospitable bed.
--And thou! fair favoured region! which my soul 740
Shall love, till Life has broke her golden bowl,
Till Death's cold touch her cistern-wheel assail,
And vain regret and vain desire shall fail;
Tho' now, where erst the grey-clad peasant stray'd,
To break the quiet of the village shade 745
Gleam war's [Hh] discordant habits thro' the trees,
And the red banner mock the sullen breeze;
Tho' now no more thy maids their voices suit
To the low-warbled breath of twilight lute,
And heard, the pausing village hum between, 750
No solemn songstress lull the fading green,
Scared by the fife, and rumbling drum's alarms,
And the short thunder, and the flash of arms;
While, as Night bids the startling uproar die,
Sole sound, the [Ii] sourd renews his mournful cry: 755
--Yet, hast thou found that Freedom spreads her pow'r
Beyond the cottage hearth, the cottage door:
All nature smiles; and owns beneath her eyes
Her fields peculiar, and peculiar skies.
Yes, as I roam'd where Loiret's [Jj] waters glide 760
Thro' rustling aspins heard from side to side,
When from October clouds a milder light
Fell, where the blue flood rippled into white,
Methought from every cot the watchful bird
Crowed with ear-piercing power 'till then unheard; 765
Each clacking mill, that broke the murmuring streams,
Rock'd the charm'd thought in more delightful dreams;
Chasing those long long dreams the falling leaf
Awoke a fainter pang of moral grief;
The measured echo of the distant flail 770
Winded in sweeter cadence down the vale;
A more majestic tide the [Kk] water roll'd,
And glowed the sun-gilt groves in richer gold:
--Tho' Liberty shall soon, indignant, raise
Red on his hills his beacon's comet blaze; 775
Bid from on high his lonely cannon sound,
And on ten thousand hearths his shout rebound;
His larum-bell from village-tow'r to tow'r
Swing on th' astounded ear it's dull undying roar:
Yet, yet rejoice, tho' Pride's perverted ire 780
Rouze Hell's own aid, and wrap thy hills in fire.
Lo! from th' innocuous flames, a lovely birth!
With it's own Virtues springs another earth:
Nature, as in her prime, her virgin reign
Begins, and Love and Truth compose her train; 785
With pulseless hand, and fix'd unwearied gaze,
Unbreathing Justice her still beam surveys:
No more, along thy vales and viny groves,
Whole hamlets disappearing as he moves,
With cheeks o'erspread by smiles of baleful glow, 790
On his pale horse shall fell Consumption go.
Oh give, great God, to Freedom's waves to ride
Sublime o'er Conquest, Avarice, and Pride,
To break, the vales where Death with Famine scow'rs,
And dark Oppression builds her thick-ribb'd tow'rs; 795
Where Machination her fell soul resigns,
Fled panting to the centre of her mines;
Where Persecution decks with ghastly smiles
Her bed, his mountains mad Ambition piles;
Where Discord stalks dilating, every hour, 800
And crouching fearful at the feet of Pow'r,
Like Lightnings eager for th' almighty word,
Look up for sign of havoc, Fire, and Sword; [Ll]
--Give them, beneath their breast while Gladness springs,
To brood the nations o'er with Nile-like wings; 805
And grant that every sceptred child of clay,
Who cries, presumptuous, "here their tides shall stay,"
Swept in their anger from th' affrighted shore,
With all his creatures sink--to rise no more.
To-night, my friend, within this humble cot 810
Be the dead load of mortal ills forgot,
Renewing, when the rosy summits glow
At morn, our various journey, sad and slow.
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: All the notes to this reprint of the edition of 1793 are
Wordsworth's own, as given in that edition.--Ed.]
[Footnote B: The lyre of Memnon is reported to have emitted melancholy
or chearful tones, as it was touched by the sun's evening or morning
rays.]
[Footnote C: There are few people whom it may be necessary to inform,
that the sides of many of the post-roads in France are planted with a
row of trees.]
[Footnote D: Alluding to crosses seen on the tops of the spiry rocks of
the Chartreuse, which have every appearance of being inaccessible.]
[Footnote E: Names of rivers at the Chartreuse.]
[Footnote F: Name of one of the vallies of the Chartreuse.]
[Footnote G: If any of my readers should ever visit the Lake of Como, I
recommend it to him to take a stroll along this charming little pathway:
he must chuse the evening, as it is on the western side of the Lake. We
pursued it from the foot of the water to it's head: it is once
interrupted by a ferry.]
[Footnote H:
Solo, e pensoso i piu deserti campi
Vo misurando a passi tardi, e lenti.
'Petrarch'.]
[Footnote I: The river along whose banks you descend in crossing the
Alps by the Semplon pass. From the striking contrast of it's features,
this pass I should imagine to be the most interesting among the Alps.]
[Footnote J: Most of the bridges among the Alps are of wood and covered:
these bridges have a heavy appearance, and rather injure the effect of
the scenery in some places.]
[Footnote K:
"Red came the river down, and loud, and oft
The angry Spirit of the water shriek'd."
HOME'S 'Douglas'.]
[Footnote L: The Catholic religion prevails here, these cells are, as is
well known, very common in the Catholic countries, planted, like the
Roman tombs, along the road side.]
[Footnote M: Crosses commemorative of the deaths of travellers by the
fall of snow and other accidents very common along this dreadful road.]
[Footnote N: The houses in the more retired Swiss valleys are all built
of wood.]
[Footnote O: I had once given to these sketches the title of
Picturesque; but the Alps are insulted in applying to them that term.
Whoever, in attempting to describe their sublime features, should
confine himself to the cold rules of painting would give his reader but
a very imperfect idea of those emotions which they have the irresistible
power of communicating to the most impassive imaginations. The fact is,
that controuling influence, which distinguishes the Alps from all other
scenery, is derived from images which disdain the pencil. Had I wished
to make a picture of this scene I had thrown much less light into it.
But I consulted nature and my feelings. The ideas excited by the stormy
sunset I am here describing owed their sublimity to that deluge of
light, or rather of fire, in which nature had wrapped the immense forms
around me; any intrusion of shade, by destroying the unity of the
impression, had necessarily diminished its grandeur.]
[Footnote P: Pike is a word very commonly used in the north of England,
to signify a high mountain of the conic form, as Langdale pike, etc.]
[Footnote Q: For most of the images in the next sixteen verses I am
indebted to M. Raymond's interesting observations annexed to his
translation of Coxe's 'Tour in Switzerland'.]
[Footnote R: The rays of the sun drying the rocks frequently produce on
their surface a dust so subtile and slippery, that the wretched
chamois-chasers are obliged to bleed themselves in the legs and feet in
order to secure a footing.]
[Footnote S: The people of this Canton are supposed to be of a more
melancholy disposition than the other inhabitants of the Alps: this, if
true, may proceed from their living more secluded.]
[Footnote T: These summer hamlets are most probably (as I have seen
observed by a critic in the 'Gentleman's Magazine') what Virgil alludes
to in the expression "Castella in tumulis."]
[Footnote U: Sugh, a Scotch word expressive of the sound of the wind
through the trees.]
[Footnote V: This wind, which announces the spring to the Swiss, is
called in their language Foen; and is according to M. Raymond the Syroco
of the Italians.]
[Footnote W: This tradition of the golden age of the Alps, as M. Raymond
observes, is highly interesting, interesting not less to the philosopher
than to the poet. Here I cannot help remarking, that the superstitions
of the Alps appear to be far from possessing that poetical character
which so eminently distinguishes those of Scotland and the other
mountainous northern countries. The Devil with his horns, etc., seems to
be in their idea, the principal agent that brings about the sublime
natural revolutions that take place daily before their eyes.]
[Footnote X: Alluding to several battles which the Swiss in very small
numbers have gained over their oppressors the house of Austria; and in
particular, to one fought at Naeffels near Glarus, where three hundred
and thirty men defeated an army of between fifteen and twenty thousand
Austrians. Scattered over the valley are to be found eleven stones, with
this inscription, 1388, the year the battle was fought, marking out as I
was told upon the spot, the several places where the Austrians
attempting to make a stand were repulsed anew.]
[Footnote Y: As Schreck-Horn, the pike of terror. Wetter-Horn, the pike
of storms, etc. etc.]
[Footnote Z: The effect of the famous air called in French Ranz des
Vaches upon the Swiss troops removed from their native country is well
known, as also the injunction of not playing it on pain of death, before
the regiments of that nation, in the service of France and Holland.]
[Footnote Aa: Optima quaeque dies, etc.]
[Footnote Bb: This shrine is resorted to, from a hope of relief, by
multitudes, from every corner of the Catholick world, labouring under
mental or bodily afflictions.]
[Footnote Cc: Rude fountains built and covered with sheds for the
accommodation of the pilgrims, in their ascent of the mountain. Under
these sheds the sentimental traveller and the philosopher may find
interesting sources of meditation.]
[Footnote Dd: This word is pronounced upon the spot Chamouny, I have
taken the liberty of reading it long thinking it more musical.]
[Footnote Ee: It is only from the higher part of the valley of Chamouny
that Mont Blanc is visible.]
[Footnote Ff: It is scarce necessary to observe that these lines were
written before the emancipation of Savoy.]
[Footnote Gg: A vast extent of marsh so called near the lake of
Neuf-chatel.]
[Footnote Hh: This, as may be supposed, was written before France became
the seat of war.]
[Footnote Ii: An insect so called, which emits a short, melancholy cry,
heard, at the close of the summer evenings, on the banks of the Loire.]
[Footnote Jj: The river Loiret, which has the honour of giving name to a
department, rises out of the earth at a place, called La Source, a
league and a half south-east of Orleans, and taking at once the
character of a considerable stream, winds under a most delicious bank on
its left, with a flat country of meadows, woods, and vineyards on its
right, till it falls into the Loire about three or four leagues below
Orleans. The hand of false taste has committed on its banks those
outrages which the Abbe de Lille so pathetically deprecates in those
charming verses descriptive of the Seine, visiting in secret the retreat
of his friend Watelet. Much as the Loiret, in its short course, suffers
from injudicious ornament, yet are there spots to be found upon its
banks as soothing as meditation could wish for: the curious traveller
may meet with some of them where it loses itself among the mills in the
neighbourhood of the villa called La Fontaine. The walks of La Source,
where it takes its rise, may, in the eyes of some people, derive an
additional interest from the recollection that they were the retreat of
Bolingbroke during his exile, and that here it was that his
philosophical works were chiefly composed. The inscriptions, of which he
speaks in one of his letters to Swift descriptive of this spot, are not,
I believe, now extant. The gardens have been modelled within these
twenty years according to a plan evidently not dictated by the taste of
the friend of Pope.]
[Footnote Kk: The duties upon many parts of the French rivers were so
exorbitant that the poorer people, deprived of the benefit of water
carriage, were obliged to transport their goods by land.]
[Footnote Ll:
--And, at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should Famine, Sword, and Fire,
Crouch for employment.]
* * * * *
APPENDIX II
The following is Wordsworth's Itinerary of the Tour, taken by him and
his friend Jones, which gave rise to 'Descriptive Sketches'.
July
13. Calais.
14. Ardres.
17. Peronne.
18. Village near Coucy.
19. Soissons.
20. Chateau Thierry.
21. Sezanne.
22. Village near Troyes.
23. Bar-le-Duc.
24. Chatillon-sur-Seine.
26. Nuits.
27. Chalons.
28. Chalons.
29. On the Saone.
30. Lyons.
31. Condrieu.
August
1. Moreau.
2. Voreppe.
3. Village near Chartreuse.
4. Chartreuse.
6. Aix.
7. Town in Savoy.
8. Town on Lake of Geneva.
9. Lausanne.
10. Villeneuve.
11. St. Maurice in the Valais.
12. Chamouny.
13. Chamouny.
14. Martigny.
15. Village beyond Sion.
16. Brieg.
17. Spital on Alps.
18. Margozza.
19. Village beyond Lago Maggiore.
20. Village on Lago di Como.
21. Village beyond Gravedona.
22. Jones at Chiavenna; W. W. at Samolaco.
23. Sovozza.
24. Spluegen.
25. Flems.
26. Dissentis.
27. Village on the Reuss.
28. Fluelen.
29. Lucerne.
30. Village on the Lake of Zurich.
31. Einsiedlen.
September
1. Glarus.
2. Glarus.
3. Village beyond Lake of Wallenstadt.
4. Village on road to Appenzell.
5. Appenzell.
6. Keswill, on Lake of Constance.
7. On the Rhine.
8. On the Rhine.
9. On road to Lucerne.
10. Lucerne.
11. Saxeln.
12. Village on the Aar.
13. Grindelwald.
14. Lauterbrunnen.
15. Village three leagues from Berne.
16. Avranches.
19. Village beyond Pierre Pertuises.
20. Village four leagues from Basle.
21. Basle.
22. Town six leagues from Strasburg.
23. Spires.
24. Village on Rhine.
25. Mentz. Mayence.
27. Village on Rhine, two leagues from Coblentz.
28. Cologne.
29. Village three leagues from Aix-la-Chapelle.
The pedestrians bought a boat at Basle, and in it floated down the Rhine
as far as Cologne, intending to proceed in the same way to Ostend; but
they returned to England from Cologne by Calais. In the course of this
tour, Wordsworth wrote a letter to his sister, dated "Sept. 6, 1790,
Keswill, a small village on the Lake of Constance," which will be found
amongst his letters in a subsequent volume.--Ed.