[66] mountain-storm] mountain blast M. P., P. R.
[69] God] God. M. P., P. R.
Between 70-80
And thou, O silent Form, alone and bare
Whom, as I lift again my head bow'd low
In adoration, I again behold,
And to thy summit upward from thy base
Sweep slowly with dim eyes suffus'd by tears,
Awake thou mountain form! rise, like a cloud
M. P., P. R.
And thou thou silent mountain, lone and bare
Whom as I lift again my head bow'd low
In adoration, I again behold!
And from thy summit upward to the base
Sweep slowly, with dim eyes suffus'd with tears
Rise, mighty form! even as thou seem'st to rise.
MS. A.
[70] Thou too] And thou, Errata, Friend, No. XIII. Once more,
hoar Mount MS. (C), S. L. (For once more, read Thou too Errata,
S. L., p. [xi]).
[72] through] in Friend, 1809. In the blue serene MS. (C).
[74] again] once more MS. (C).
[75] That as once more I raise my Head bow'd low Friend, No.
XI, 1809 (see the Errata, No. XIII).
[83-4]
tell thou the silent stars,
Tell the blue sky
MS. A.
[84] yon] the M. P., P. R., MS. A.
[85] praises] calls on M. P., P. R., MS. A.
THE GOOD, GREAT MAN[381:1]
'How seldom, friend! a good great man inherits
Honour or wealth with all his worth and pains!
It sounds like stories from the land of spirits
If any man obtain that which he merits
Or any merit that which he obtains.' 5
REPLY TO THE ABOVE
For shame, dear friend, renounce this canting strain!
What would'st thou have a good great man obtain?
Place? titles? salary? a gilded chain?
Or throne of corses which his sword had slain? 10
Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends!
Hath he not always treasures, always friends,
The good great man? three treasures, Love, and Light,
And Calm Thoughts, regular as infant's breath:
And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, 15
Himself, his Maker, and the Angel Death!
1802.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
Title] Epigram M. P.: Epigrams P. R.: Complaint Lit. Rem., 1844,
1852: The Good, &c. 1893.
[6] Reply to the above M. P.: Reply The Friend, 1809:
Reproof Lit. Rem., 1844.
INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN ON A HEATH[381:2]
This Sycamore, oft musical with bees,—
Such tents the Patriarchs loved! O long unharmed
May all its agéd boughs o'er-canopy
The small round basin, which this jutting stone
Keeps pure from falling leaves! Long may the Spring, 5
[382]Quietly as a sleeping infant's breath,
Send up cold waters to the traveller
With soft and even pulse! Nor ever cease
Yon tiny cone of sand its soundless dance,[382:1]
Which at the bottom, like a Fairy's Page, 10
As merry and no taller, dances still,
Nor wrinkles the smooth surface of the Fount.
Here Twilight is and Coolness: here is moss,
A soft seat, and a deep and ample shade.
Thou may'st toil far and find no second tree. 15
Drink, Pilgrim, here; Here rest! and if thy heart
Be innocent, here too shalt thou refresh
Thy spirit, listening to some gentle sound,
Or passing gale or hum of murmuring bees!
1802.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
Title] Inscription on a Jutting Stone, over a Spring M. P., P. R.
[3] agéd] darksome M. P., P. R.
[5] Still may this spring M. P., P. R.
[7] waters] water P. R. to] for M. P., P. R.
[9] soundless] noiseless M. P., P. R.
[10] Which] That M. P., P. R.
[13] Here coolness dwell, and twilight M. P., P. R.
16 foll.
Here, stranger, drink! Here rest! And if thy heart
Be innocent, here too may'st thou renew
Thy spirits, listening to these gentle sounds,
The passing gale, or ever-murm'ring bees.
M. P., P. R.
AN ODE TO THE RAIN[382:2]
COMPOSED BEFORE DAYLIGHT, ON THE MORNING APPOINTED FOR THE DEPARTURE OF
A VERY WORTHY, BUT NOT VERY PLEASANT VISITOR, WHOM IT WAS FEARED THE
RAIN MIGHT DETAIN
I
I know it is dark; and though I have lain,
Awake, as I guess, an hour or twain,
[383]I have not once opened the lids of my eyes,
But I lie in the dark, as a blind man lies.
O Rain! that I lie listening to, 5
You're but a doleful sound at best:
I owe you little thanks, 'tis true,
For breaking thus my needful rest!
Yet if, as soon as it is light,
O Rain! you will but take your flight, 10
I'll neither rail, nor malice keep,
Though sick and sore for want of sleep.
But only now, for this one day,
Do go, dear Rain! do go away!
II
O Rain! with your dull two-fold sound, 15
The clash hard by, and the murmur all round!
You know, if you know aught, that we,
Both night and day, but ill agree:
For days and months, and almost years,
Have limped on through this vale of tears, 20
Since body of mine, and rainy weather,
Have lived on easy terms together.
Yet if, as soon as it is light,
O Rain! you will but take your flight,
Though you should come again to-morrow, 25
And bring with you both pain and sorrow;
Though stomach should sicken and knees should swell—
I'll nothing speak of you but well.
But only now for this one day,
Do go, dear Rain! do go away! 30
III
Dear Rain! I ne'er refused to say
You're a good creature in your way;
Nay, I could write a book myself,
Would fit a parson's lower shelf,
Showing how very good you are.— 35
[384]What then? sometimes it must be fair
And if sometimes, why not to-day?
Do go, dear Rain! do go away!
IV
Dear Rain! if I've been cold and shy,
Take no offence! I'll tell you why. 40
A dear old Friend e'en now is here,
And with him came my sister dear;
After long absence now first met,
Long months by pain and grief beset—
We three dear friends! in truth, we groan 45
Impatiently to be alone.
We three, you mark! and not one more!
The strong wish makes my spirit sore.
We have so much to talk about,
So many sad things to let out; 50
So many tears in our eye-corners,
Sitting like little Jacky Horners—
In short, as soon as it is day,
Do go, dear Rain! do go away.
V
And this I'll swear to you, dear Rain! 55
Whenever you shall come again,
Be you as dull as e'er you could
(And by the bye 'tis understood,
You're not so pleasant as you're good),
Yet, knowing well your worth and place, 60
I'll welcome you with cheerful face;
And though you stayed a week or more,
Were ten times duller than before;
Yet with kind heart, and right good will,
I'll sit and listen to you still; 65
Nor should you go away, dear Rain!
Uninvited to remain.
But only now, for this one day,
Do go, dear Rain! do go away.
1802.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
[45] We] With L. R, 1844, 1852. [The text was amended in P.
W., 1877-80.]
My eyes make pictures, when they are shut:
I see a fountain, large and fair,
A willow and a ruined hut,
And thee, and me and Mary there.
O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow! 5
Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow!
A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed,
And that and summer well agree:
And lo! where Mary leans her head,
Two dear names carved upon the tree! 10
And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow:
Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.
'Twas day! but now few, large, and bright,
The stars are round the crescent moon!
And now it is a dark warm night, 15
The balmiest of the month of June!
A glow-worm fall'n, and on the marge remounting
Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain.
O ever—ever be thou blest!
For dearly, Asra! love I thee! 20
This brooding warmth across my breast,
This depth of tranquil bliss—ah, me!
Fount, tree and shed are gone, I know not whither,
But in one quiet room we three are still together.
The shadows dance upon the wall, 25
By the still dancing fire-flames made;
And now they slumber, moveless all!
And now they melt to one deep shade!
But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee:
I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee! 30
[386]Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play—
'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow!
But let me check this tender lay
Which none may hear but she and thou!
Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming. 35
Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women!
1802.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
[8] well] will Bijou, 1828.
[20] For Asra, dearly Bijou, 1828.
[28] one] me Bijou, 1828.
ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION[386:1]
Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove,
The Linnet and Thrush say, 'I love and I love!'
In the winter they're silent—the wind is so strong;
What it says, I don't know, but it sings a loud song.
But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, 5
And singing, and loving—all come back together.
But the Lark is so brimful of gladness and love,
The green fields below him, the blue sky above,
That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he—
'I love my Love, and my Love loves me!' 10
1802.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
Title] The Language of Birds: Lines spoken extempore, to a little child,
in early spring M. P.
Between 6-7
'I love, and I love,' almost all the birds say
From sunrise to star-rise, so gladsome are they.
M. P.
After 10
'Tis no wonder that he's full of joy to the brim,
When He loves his Love, and his Love loves him.
M. P.
Line 10 is adapted from the refrain of Prior's Song ('One morning very
early, one morning in the spring'):—'I love my love, because I know my
love loves me.'
FROM AN EMIGRANT TO HIS ABSENT WIFE
If thou wert here, these tears were tears of light!
But from as sweet a vision did I start
[387]As ever made these eyes grow idly bright!
And though I weep, yet still around my heart
A sweet and playful tenderness doth linger, 5
Touching my heart as with an infant's finger.
My mouth half open, like a witless man,
I saw our couch, I saw our quiet room,
Its shadows heaving by the fire-light gloom;
And o'er my lips a subtle feeling ran, 10
All o'er my lips a soft and breeze-like feeling—
I know not what—but had the same been stealing
Upon a sleeping mother's lips, I guess
It would have made the loving mother dream
That she was softly bending down to kiss 15
Her babe, that something more than babe did seem,
A floating presence of its darling father,
And yet its own dear baby self far rather!
Across my chest there lay a weight, so warm!
As if some bird had taken shelter there; 20
And lo! I seemed to see a woman's form—
Thine, Sara, thine? O joy, if thine it were!
I gazed with stifled breath, and feared to stir it,
No deeper trance e'er wrapt a yearning spirit!
And now, when I seemed sure thy face to see, 25
Thy own dear self in our own quiet home;
There came an elfish laugh, and wakened me:
'Twas Frederic, who behind my chair had clomb,
And with his bright eyes at my face was peeping.
I blessed him, tried to laugh, and fell a-weeping! 30
1801-2.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
THE HAPPY HUSBAND[388:1]
A FRAGMENT
Oft, oft methinks, the while with thee,
I breathe, as from the heart, thy dear
And dedicated name, I hear
A promise and a mystery,
A pledge of more than passing life, 5
Yea, in that very name of Wife!
A pulse of love, that ne'er can sleep!
A feeling that upbraids the heart
With happiness beyond desert,
That gladness half requests to weep! 10
Nor bless I not the keener sense
And unalarming turbulence
Of transient joys, that ask no sting
From jealous fears, or coy denying;
But born beneath Love's brooding wing, 15
And into tenderness soon dying,
Wheel out their giddy moment, then
Resign the soul to love again;—
A more precipitated vein
Of notes, that eddy in the flow 20
Of smoothest song, they come, they go,
And leave their sweeter understrain,
Its own sweet self—a love of Thee
That seems, yet cannot greater be!
? 1802.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
[13] ask] fear S. L. (for fear no sting read ask no sting
Errata, p. [xi]).
THE PAINS OF SLEEP[389:1]
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
It hath not been my use to pray
With moving lips or bended knees;
But silently, by slow degrees,
My spirit I to Love compose, 5
In humble trust mine eye-lids close,
With reverential resignation,
No wish conceived, no thought exprest,
Only a sense of supplication;
A sense o'er all my soul imprest 10
That I am weak, yet not unblest,
Since in me, round me, every where
Eternal Strength and Wisdom are.
But yester-night I prayed aloud
In anguish and in agony, 15
Up-starting from the fiendish crowd
Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me:
A lurid light, a trampling throng,
Sense of intolerable wrong,
And whom I scorned, those only strong! 20
[390]Thirst of revenge, the powerless will
Still baffled, and yet burning still!
Desire with loathing strangely mixed
On wild or hateful objects fixed.
Fantastic passions! maddening brawl! 25
And shame and terror over all!
Deeds to be hid which were not hid,
Which all confused I could not know
Whether I suffered, or I did:
For all seemed guilt, remorse or woe, 30
My own or others still the same
Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame.
So two nights passed: the night's dismay
Saddened and stunned the coming day.
Sleep, the wide blessing, seemed to me 35
Distemper's worst calamity.
The third night, when my own loud scream
Had waked me from the fiendish dream,
O'ercome with sufferings strange and wild,
I wept as I had been a child; 40
And having thus by tears subdued
My anguish to a milder mood,
Such punishments, I said, were due
To natures deepliest stained with sin,—
For aye entempesting anew 45
The unfathomable hell within,
The horror of their deeds to view,
To know and loathe, yet wish and do!
[391]Such griefs with such men well agree,
But wherefore, wherefore fall on me? 50
To be beloved is all I need,
And whom I love, I love indeed.
1803.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
[1] Ere] When MS. Letter to Southey, Sept. 11, 1803.
[9] sense] sense MS. Letter to Southey, 1816, 1828,
1829.
[10] sense] sense MS. Letter to Southey.
[12] Since round me, in me, everywhere MS. Letter to
Southey.
[13] Wisdom] Goodness MS. Letter to Southey.
[16] Up-starting] Awaking MS. Letter to Southey.
Between 18-26
Desire with loathing strangely mixt,
On wild or hateful objects fixt.
Sense of revenge, the powerless will,
Still baffled and consuming still;
Sense of intolerable wrong,
And men whom I despis'd made strong!
Vain-glorious threats, unmanly vaunting,
Bad men my boasts and fury taunting:
Rage, sensual passion, mad'ning Brawl,
MS. Letter to Southey.