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Through no disturbance of my soul,
Or strong compunction in me wrought,
I supplicate for thy control;
But in the quietness of thought:
Me this unchartered freedom tires;
I feel the weight of chance desires :
My hopes no more must change their name,
I long for a repose that ever is the same.

Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven,
Through prickly moors or dusty ways must

But hearing thee, or others of thy kind,
As full of gladness and as free of heaven,
I, with my fate contented, will plod on,

30 And hope for higher raptures, when life's day

is done.


Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear

The Godhead's most benignant grace;
Nor know we anything so fair

(1825) As is the smile upon thy face:

Ethereal minst rel! pilgrim of the sky! Flowers laugh before thee on their beds Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound! And fragrance in thy footing treads;

Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong;

Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, are fresh and strong.

48 Those quivering wings composed, that music

still! To humbler functions, awful Power! I call thee: I myself commend

Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; Unto thy guidance from this hour;

A privacy of glorious light is thine; Oh, let my weakness have an end!

Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Give unto me, made lowly wise,

Of harmony, with instinct more divine; The spirit of self-sacrifice;

Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; The confidence of reason give;

True to the kindred points of Heaven and And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me Home!

12 live!




Up with me! up with me into the clouds!

For thy song, Lark, is strong;
Up with me, up with me into the clouds!

There was a time when meadow, grove, and
Singing, singing,

stream, With clouds and sky about thee ringing,

The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem
Lift me, guide me till I find
That spot which seems so to thy mind!

Apparelled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream. I have walked through wildernesses dreary It is not now as it hath been of yore;And to-day my heart is weary ;

Turn wheresoe'er I may, Had I now the wings of a Faery,


By night or day, Up to thee would I fly.

The things which I have seen I now can see no There is madness about thee, and joy divine

more. In that song of thine; Lift me, guide me high and high

"To that dream-like vividness and splendour

which invest objects of sight in childhood, To thy banqueting-place in the sky,

every one, I believe, if he would look back,

could bear testimony, and I need not dwell Joyous as morning

upon it here; but having in the poem re

garded it as presumptive evidence of a prior Thou art laughing and scorning;

state of existence, I think it right to protest Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest.

against a conclusion, which has given pain to

some good and pious persons, that I meant And, though little troubled with sloth,

to inculcate such a belief. It is far too Drunken Lark! thou would 'st be loth


shadowy a notion to be recommended to faith, To be such a traveller as I.

as more than an element in our instincts of

immortality. A pre-existent state has Happy, happy Liver,

entered into the popular creeds of many nations; and, among all

persons acquainted With a soul as strong as a mountain river

with classic literature, is known as an inPouring out praise to the Almighty Giver,

gredient Platonic philosophy."--Extract from Wordsworth's

Compare Henry Joy and jollity be with us both!

Vaughan's The Retreat, p. 223.



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The Rainbow comes and goes,

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:

The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
And lovely is the Rose,

Hath bad elsewhere its setting,
The Moon doth with delight

And cometh from afar:
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night

Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,
Are beautiful and fair;

But trailing clouds of glory do we come
The sunshine is a glorious birth;

From God, who is our home:
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the Heaven lies about us in our infaney!

Shades of the prison-house begin to close

Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,

He sees it in his joy;
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, The Youth, who daily farther from the east
And while the young lambs bound


Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
As to the tabor's sound,

And by the vision splendid
To me alone there came a thought of grief;

Is on his way attended;
A timely utterance gave that thought relief, At length the Man perceives it die away,
And I again am strong:

And fade into the light of common day.
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the

No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And, even with something of a Mother's mind,
And all the earth is gay;

And no unworthy aim,
Land and sea

The homely Nurse doth all she can
Give themselves up to jollity,

To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, And with the heart of May

Forget the glories he hath known, Doth every Beast keep holiday ;

And that imperial palace whence he came.
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou
happy Shepherd-boy!

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' Darling of a pigmy size!

See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Ye blessèd Creatures, I have heard the call

Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, Ye to each other make; I see

With light upon him from his father's eyes! The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;

See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, My heart is at your festival,

40 Some fragment from his dream of human life, My head hath its coronal,

Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; The fulness of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all.

A wedding or a festival, Oh evil day! if I were sullen

A mourning or a funeral;
While Earth herself is adorning,

And this hath now his heart,
This sweet May-morning,

And unto this he frames his song:

Then will he fit his tongue
And the Children are culling
On every side,

To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
In a thousand valleys far and wide,

But it will not be long Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,

Ere this be thrown aside, And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:

- And with new joy and pride I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!

51 The little Actor cons another part; -But there's a Tree, of many, one,

Filling from time to time his “humorousi A single Field which I have looked upon,

stage" Both of them speak of something that is gone: With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, The Pansy at my feet

That Life brings with her in her equipage; Doth the same tale repeat:

As if his whole vocation Whither is fled the visionary gleam ?

Were endless imitatior Where is it now, the glory and the dream ?




100 VIII

i humorsome




Hence in a season of calm weather

Though inland far we be, Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie

Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Thy Soul's immensity;

Which brought us hither, Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep

Can in a moment travel thither, Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

And see the Children sport upon the shore, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,

Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!

On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,

Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;

And let the young Lambs bound 170

As to the tabor's sound!
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, 120 We in thought will join your throng,
A Presence which is not to be put by;

Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might

Ye that through your hearts to-day Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,

Feel the gladness of the May! Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke What though the radiance which was once so The years to bring the inevitable yoke,

bright Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?

Be now forever taken from my sight, Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight, Though nothing can bring back the hour And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!

We will grieve not, rather find

180 Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be; O joy! that in our embers


In the soothing thoughts that spring Is something that doth live,

Out of human suffering; That nature yet remembers

In the faith that looks through death,
What was so fugitive!

In years that bring the philosophic mind.
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction; not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest-

And 0, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Delight and liberty, the simple creed

Groves, Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,

Forebode not any severing of our loves! With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his

Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; breast :

I only have relinquished one delight Not for these I raise

To live beneath your more habitual sway. The song of thanks and praise;

I love the Brooks which down their channels But for those obstinate questionings

fret, Of sense and outward things,

Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; Fallings from us, vanishings;

The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Blank misgivings of a Creature

Is lovely yet;
Moving about in worlds not realized,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature Do take a sober colouring from an eye

The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:

That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; But for those first affections,

Another race hath been, and other palms are Those shadowy recollections,

200 Which, be they what they may,

Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Are yet the fountain light of all our day,

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, Are yet a master light of all our seeing;

To me the meanest flower that blows can give Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,

COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,

BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802 Nor Man nor Boy,

Earth has not anything to show more fair: Nor all that is at enmity with joy,

160 Dull would he be of soul who could pass by Can utterly abolish or destroy!

A sight so touching in its majesty:






LONDON, 18021

This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

Milton! thou should’st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee; she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart:
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the



Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, CALM AND FREE

So didst thou travel on life's common way,

In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,

The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;

THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea:

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:

Little we see in Nature that is ours;
A sound like thunder-everlastingly.
Dear Child!1 dear Girl! that walkest with me

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; here,

The winds that will be howling at all hours, If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine:

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; Thou liest in Abraham's bosom2 all the year;

For this, for everything, we are out of tune; And worship’st at the Temple's inner shrine,

It moves us not.-Great God! I'd rather be God being with thee when we know it not.

A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; VENETIAN REPUBLIC*

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathéd horn.
Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee;
And was the safeguard of the west: the worth

Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.

I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, She was a maiden City, bright and free;

As being past away.-Vain sympathies! No guile seduced, no force could violate;

For, backward, Duddon, as I cast my eyes, And when she took unto herself a Mate,

I see what was, and is, and will abide; She must espouse the everlasting Sea.†

Still glides the Stream, and shall forever glide; And what if she had seen those glories fade,

The Form remains, the Function never dies; Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;

While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid

We Men, who in our morn of youth defied When her long life hath reached its final day:

The elements, must vanish ;—be it so! Men are we, and must grieve when even the Enough, if something from our hands have Shade

power Of that which once was great, is passed away. To live, and act, and serve the future hour;

And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, 1 Wordsworth's sister, Dorothy.

Through love, through hope, and faith's tran. 2 See Luke xvi, 22.

scendent dower, • Venice threw off the yoke of the Eastern Em. We feel that we are greater than we know.

pire as early as 809 and remained a republic or an oligarchy until conquered by Napoleon in 1797. At one time she had extensive # Written in despondency over the inert attitude possessions and colonies in the Levant.

of England toward the hopes and ideals of | The ancient Doges annually, on Ascension Day.

revolutionists and the opponents of threw a ring into the Adriatic in formal Napoleon. token of this espousal, or of perpetual do 8 The conclusion of a series of sonnets to the minion.

river Duddon.



Could I revive within me (1772-1834)

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,
In Xanadui did Kubla Khan2

I would build that dome in air, A stately pleasure-dome decree:

That sunny dome! those caves of ice! Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

And all who heard should see them there,
Through caverns measureless to man

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
Down to a sunless sea.
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

50 So twice five miles of fertile ground

Weave a circle round him thrice,
With walls and towers were girdled round: And close your eyes with holy dread,
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills, For he on honey-dew hath fed,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And drunk the milk of Paradise.
And here were forests ancient as the hills,

10 Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINERT But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted How a Ship having passed the Line was driven
By woman wailing for her demon-lover! by Storms to the cold Country towards the South

Pole : and how from thence she made her course And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil to the Tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific seething,

Ocean ; and of the strange things that befell; and

in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back As if this earth in fast thick pants were to his own Country.

breathing, A mighty fountain momently was forced : Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst


PART I. Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

It is an ancient Mariner, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:

And he stoppeth one of three. And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

"By thy long gray beard and glittering eye, It flung up momently the sacred river.

Now wherefore stopp'st thou me
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

1.12. An ancient Mariner meeteth three Gal-
Then reached the caverns measureless to man, lants bidden to a wedding-feast, and detaineth one.
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

† From the publication, in 1798, of the Lyrical Ancestral voices prophesying war!


Ballads, "the joint production of Coleridge

and Wordsworth, may be dated very defiThe shadow of the dome of pleasure

nitely the recognition of the new spirit in

English literature which is commonly spoken Floated midway on the waves;

of as the Romantic Revival. See Eng. Lit.. Where was heard the mingled measure

pp. 232-235. Coleridge, in the fourteenth

chapter of his Biographia Literaria, writes of From the fountain and the caves.

the occasion of the Lyrical Ballads as follows: It was a miracle of rare device,

"During the first year that Mr. Wordsworth and A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

I were neighbours, our conversations turned fre

quently on the two cardinal points of poetry, the A damsel with a dulcimer

power of exciting the sympathy of the reader by a

faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and In a vision once I saw:

the power of giving the interest of novelty by the

modifying colours of the imagination. The sudIt was an Abyssinian maid,

den charm, which accidents of light and shade, And on her dulcimer she played,

40 which moonlight or sunset, diffused over a known

and familiar landscape, appeared to represent the Coleridge says this poem was composed when practicability of combining both. These are the

he had fallen asleep just after reading from poetry of nature. The thought suggested itself Marco Polo in Purchas's Pilgrimage how "In (to which of us I do not recollect) that a series Xandu did Cublal Can build a stately pal of poems might be composed of two sorts.

In ace," etc. There were more lines which he falled

the one, the incidents and agents were to be. in to record. Charles Lamb spoke of the poem as "a vision which he (Coleridge) repeats so

part at least, supernatural; and the excellence

aimed at was to consist in the interesting of the enchantingly that it irradiates and brings heaven and elysian bowers into my parlour

affections by the dramatic truth of such emotions when he sings or says it."

as would naturally accompany such situations,

supposing them real. And real in this sense they 1A region in Tartary.. 2 Kubla the Cham, or have been to every human being who, from what


ever source of delusion, has at any time believed

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