The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Volume IV (of 8), by William Wordsworth

"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con
Those many records of my childish years,
Remembrance of myself and of my peers
Will press me down: to think of what is gone
Will be an awful thought, if life have one." 5
But, when into the Vale I came, no fears
Distressed me; from mine eyes escaped no tears;[1]
Deep thought, or dread remembrance, had I none.[2]
By doubts and thousand petty fancies crost [3]
I stood, of simple shame the blushing Thrall;[A] 10
So narrow seemed the brooks, the fields so small![4]
A Juggler's balls old Time about him tossed;
I looked, I stared, I smiled, I laughed; and all
The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.

Doubtless the "Vale" referred to is that of Hawkshead; the "brooks" may refer to the one that feeds Esthwaite lake, or to Sawrey beck, or (more likely) to the streamlet, "the famous brook within our garden boxed," described in The Prelude, books i. and ii. (vol. iii.) See also The Fountain, vol. ii. p. 92.—Ed.

[4] 1827.

To see the Trees, which I had thought so tall,
Mere dwarfs; the Brooks so narrow, Fields so small. 1807.

"HOW SWEET IT IS, WHEN MOTHER FANCY ROCKS"

How sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks
The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood!
An old place, full of many a lovely brood,
Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks;
And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks, 5
Like a bold Girl, who plays her agile pranks [1]
At Wakes and Fairs with wandering Mountebanks,—
When she stands cresting the Clown's head, and mocks
The crowd beneath her. Verily I think,
Such place to me is sometimes like a dream 10
Or map of the whole world: thoughts, link by link,
Enter through ears and eyesight, with such gleam
Of all things, that at last in fear I shrink,
And leap at once from the delicious stream.

"THOSE WORDS WERE UTTERED AS IN PENSIVE MOOD"

——"they are of the sky,
And from our earthly memory fade away."[A]

Those [1] words were uttered as in pensive mood [2]
We turned, departing from [3] that solemn sight:
A contrast and reproach to [4] gross delight,
And life's unspiritual pleasures daily wooed!
But now upon this thought I cannot brood; 5
It is unstable as a dream of night;[5]
Nor will I praise a cloud, however bright,
Disparaging Man's gifts, and proper food.
Grove, isle, with every shape of sky-built dome,[6]
Though clad in colours beautiful and pure, 10
Find in the heart of man no natural home:
The immortal Mind craves objects that endure:
These cleave to it; from these it cannot roam,
Nor they from it: their fellowship is secure.

[3] 1827.

Even while mine eyes were on ... 1807.

Mine eyes yet lingering on ... 1815.

[A] See the sonnet Composed after a Journey across the Hambleton Hills, Yorkshire, vol. ii. p. 349.—Ed.

"WITH HOW SAD STEPS, O MOON, THOU CLIMB'ST THE SKY"

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the sky,
"How silently, and with how wan a face!"[A]
Where art thou? Thou so often seen on high [1]
Running among the clouds a Wood-nymph's race!
Unhappy Nuns, whose common breath's a sigh 5
Which they would stifle, move at such a pace!
The northern Wind, to call thee to the chase,
Must blow to-night his bugle horn. Had I
The power of Merlin, Goddess! this should be:
And all the stars, fast as the clouds were riven,[2] 10
Should sally forth, to keep thee company,[3]
Hurrying and sparkling through the clear blue heaven;[4]
But, Cynthia! should to thee the palm be given,
Queen both for beauty and for majesty.

The sonnet of Sir Philip Sidney's, from which the two first lines are taken, is No. XXXI. in Astrophel and Stella. In the edition of 1807 these lines were printed, not as a sonnet, but as No. III. in the series of "Poems composed during a Tour, chiefly on foot;" and in 1807 and 1815 the first two lines were placed within quotation marks.—Ed.

[2] 1837.

And all the Stars, now shrouded up in heaven, 1807.

And the keen Stars, fast as the clouds were riven, 1820.

[3] 1807.

Should sally forth, an emulous Company, 1820.

The text of 1837 returns to that of 1807.

[4] 1840.

What strife would then be yours, fair Creatures, driv'n
Now up, now down, and sparkling in your glee! 1807.

Sparkling, and hurrying through the clear blue heaven; 1820.

All hurrying with thee through the clear blue heaven; 1832.

In that keen sport along the plain, of heaven; 1837.

... in emulous company
Sparkling, and hurrying through the clear blue heaven; 1838 and C.

Hurrying and sparkling through the clear blue Heaven. C.

With emulous brightness through the clear blue Heaven. C.

"THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US; LATE AND SOON"

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This [1] Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; 5
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for every thing, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.—Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; 10
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,[A]
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising [2] from the sea;[B]
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.[C]

The "pleasant lea" referred to in this sonnet is unknown. It may have been on the Cumbrian coast, or in the Isle of Man.

I am indebted to the Rev. Canon Ainger for suggesting an (unconscious) reminiscence of Spenser in the last line of the sonnet. Compare Dr. Arnold's commentary (Miscellaneous Works of Thomas Arnold, p. 311), and that of Sir Henry Taylor in his Notes from Books.—Ed.

[A] See Spenser's Colin Clout's come Home againe, l. 283—

"A goodly pleasant lea."Ed.

[C] See Colin Clout's come Home againe, ll. 244-5—

Of them the shepheard which hath charge in chief,
Is Triton, blowing loud his wreathèd horne.Ed.

"WITH SHIPS THE SEA WAS SPRINKLED FAR AND NIGH"

With Ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,[A]
Like stars in heaven, and joyously it showed;
Some lying fast at anchor in the road,
Some veering up and down, one knew not why.
A goodly Vessel did I then espy 5
Come like a giant from a haven broad;
And lustily along the bay she strode,
Her tackling rich, and of apparel high.[B]
This Ship was nought to me, nor I to her,
Yet I pursued her with a Lover's look; 10
This Ship to all the rest did I prefer:
When will she turn, and whither? She will brook
No tarrying; where She comes the winds must stir:
On went She, and due north her journey took.[C]

[A] Compare The Excursion, book iv. l. 1197—

... sea with ships
Sprinkled ...Ed.

[B] In the editions of 1815 to 1832 (but not in 1807) this line was printed within inverted commas. The quotation marks were dropped, however, in subsequent editions (as in the quotation from Spenser, in the poem Beggars). In a note at the end of the volumes of 1807, Wordsworth says, "From a passage in Skelton, which I cannot here insert, not having the Book at hand."

The passage is as follows—

Her takelynge ryche, and of hye apparayle.
Skelton's Bowge of Courte, stanza vi.—Ed.

[C] See Professor H. Reed's note to the American edition of Memoirs of Wordsworth, vol. i. p. 335; and Wordsworth's comment on Mrs. Fermor's criticism of this sonnet in his letter to Lady Beaumont, May 21, 1807.—Ed.

"WHERE LIES THE LAND TO WHICH YON SHIP MUST GO?"

Where lies the Land to which yon Ship must go?
Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day,
Festively she puts forth in trim array;[1]
Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow?
What boots the inquiry?—Neither friend nor foe 5
She cares for; let her travel where she may,
She finds familiar names, a beaten way
Ever before her, and a wind to blow.
Yet still I ask, what haven is her mark?
And, almost as it was when ships were rare, 10
(From time to time, like Pilgrims, here and there
Crossing the waters) doubt, and something dark,
Of the old Sea some reverential fear,
Is with me at thy farewell, joyous Bark!

[1] 1837.

Festively she puts forth in trim array;
As vigorous as a Lark at break of day: 1807.

TO SLEEP

O gentle sleep! do they belong to thee,
These twinklings of oblivion? Thou dost love
To sit in meekness, like the brooding Dove,
A captive never wishing to be free.
This tiresome night, O Sleep! thou art to me 5
A Fly, that up and down himself doth shove
Upon a fretful rivulet, now above
Now on the water vexed with mockery.
I have no pain that calls for patience, no;[A]
Hence am I [1] cross and peevish as a child: 10
Am [2] pleased by fits to have thee for my foe,
Yet ever willing to be reconciled:
O gentle Creature! do not use me so,
But once and deeply let me be beguiled.

[1] 1807.

I am ... 1815.

The text of 1827 returns to that of 1807.

[2] 1807.

And ... 1815.

The text of 1827 returns to that of 1807.

[A] Compare—"Et c'est encore ce qui me fâche, de n'etre pas même en droit de ... fâcher."—Rousseau, La Nouvelle Héloïse.

"Vixque tenet lacrymas; quia nil lacrymabile cernit."
Ovid, Metamorphoses, lib. ii. l. 796.—Ed.

TO SLEEP

Fond words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep!
And thou hast had thy store of tenderest names;
The very sweetest, Fancy culls or frames,[1]
When thankfulness of heart is strong and deep!
Dear Bosom-child we call thee, that dost steep 5
In rich reward all suffering; Balm that tames
All anguish; Saint that evil thoughts and aims
Takest away, and into souls dost creep,
Like to a breeze from heaven. Shall I alone,
I surely not a man ungently made, 10
Call thee worst Tyrant by which Flesh is crost?
Perverse, self-willed to own and to disown,
Mere slave of them who never for thee prayed,
Still last to come where thou art wanted most!

TO SLEEP

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by,
One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky;
I have thought of all by turns, and yet do lie [1] 5
Sleepless [A]! and soon the small birds' melodies
Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees;
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay,
And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: 10
So do not let me wear to-night away:
Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth?
Come, blessed barrier between [2] day and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!

Compare Ovid, Metamorphoses, book xi. l. 623; Macbeth, act II. scene ii. l. 39; King Henry IV., Part II., act III. scene i. l. 5; Midsummer Night's Dream, act III. scene ii. l. 435.—Ed.

[1] 1845.

I've thought of all by turns; and still I lie 1807.

By turns have all been thought of; yet I lie 1827.

I thought of all by turns, and yet I lie 1837.

I have thought ... 1838.

[A] Compare The Faërie Queene, book I. canto i. stanza 41—

And more to lulle him in his slumber soft,
A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe,
And ever-drizling raine upon the loft,
Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne
Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne.Ed.

TO THE MEMORY OF RAISLEY CALVERT

Calvert! it must not be unheard by them
Who may respect my name, that I to thee
Owed many years of early liberty.
This care was thine when sickness did condemn
Thy youth to hopeless wasting, root and stem— 5
That I, if frugal and severe, might stray
Where'er I liked; and finally array
My temples with the Muse's diadem.
Hence, if in freedom I have loved the truth;
If there be aught of pure, or good, or great, 10
In my past verse; or shall be, in the lays
Of higher mood, which now I meditate;—
It gladdens me, O worthy, short-lived, Youth!
To think how much of this will be thy praise.

Raisley Calvert was the son of R. Calvert, steward to the Duke of Norfolk. Writing to Sir George Beaumont, on the 20th February 1805, Wordsworth said, "I should have been forced into one of the professions" (the church or law) "by necessity, had not a friend left me £900. This bequest was from a young man with whom, though I call him friend, I had but little connection; and the act was done entirely from a confidence on his part that I had powers and attainments which might be of use to mankind.... Upon the interest of the £900, and £100 legacy to my sister, and £100 more which the 'Lyrical Ballads' have brought me, my sister and I contrived to live seven years, nearly eight." To his friend Matthews he wrote, November 7th, 1794, "My friend" (Calvert) "has every symptom of a confirmed consumption, and I cannot think of quitting him in his present debilitated state." And in January 1795 he wrote to Matthews from Penrith (where Calvert was staying), "I have been here for some time. I am still much engaged with my sick friend; and am sorry to add that he worsens daily ... he is barely alive." In a letter to Dr. Joshua Stanger of Keswick, written in the year 1842, Wordsworth referred thus to Raisley Calvert. Dr. Calvert—a nephew of Raisley, and son of the W. Calvert whom the poet accompanied to the Isle of Wight and Salisbury in 1793—had just died. "His removal (Dr. Calvert's) has naturally thrown my mind back as far as Dr. Calvert's grandfather, his father, and sister (the former of whom was, as you know, among my intimate friends), and his uncle Raisley, whom I have so much cause to remember with gratitude for his testamentary remembrance of me, when the greatest part of my patrimony was kept back from us by injustice. It may be satisfactory to your wife for me to declare that my friend's bequest enabled me to devote myself to literary pursuits, independent of any necessity to look at pecuniary emolument, so that my talents, such as they might be, were free to take their natural course. Your brothers Raisley and William were both so well known to me, and I have so many reasons to respect them, that I cannot forbear saying, that my sympathy with this last bereavement is deepened by the remembrance that they both have been taken from you...." On October 1, 1794, Wordsworth wrote from Keswick to Ensign William Calvert about his brother Raisley. (The year is not given in the letter, but it must have been 1794.) He tells him that Raisley was determined to set out for Lisbon; but that he (Wordsworth) could not brook the idea of his going alone; and that he wished to accompany his friend and stay with him, till his health was re-established. He adds, "Reflecting that his return is uncertain, your brother requests me to inform you that he has drawn out his will, which he means to get executed in London. The purport of his will is to leave you all his property, real and personal, chargeable with a legacy of £600 to me, in case that, on inquiry into the state of our affairs in London, he should think it advisable to do so. It is at my request that this information is communicated to you." Calvert did not live to go south; and he changed the sum left to Wordsworth from £600 to £900. The relationship of the two men suggests the somewhat parallel one between Spinoza and Simon de Vries.—Ed.

"METHOUGHT I SAW THE FOOTSTEPS OF A THRONE"

Methought I saw the footsteps of a throne
Which mists and vapours from mine eyes did shroud—
Nor view of who might sit [1] thereon allowed;
But all the steps and ground about were strown
With sights the ruefullest that flesh and bone 5
Ever put on; a miserable crowd,
Sick, hale, old, young, who cried before that cloud,
"Thou art our king, O Death! to thee we groan."
Those steps I clomb; the mists before me gave [2]
Smooth way; and I beheld the face of one 10
Sleeping alone within a mossy cave,
With her face up to heaven; that seemed to have
Pleasing remembrance of a thought foregone;
A lovely Beauty in a summer grave!

"The Sonnet that follows," referred to in the Fenwick note, is one belonging to the year 1836, beginning—

Even so for me a Vision sanctified.

[2] 1845.

I seem'd to mount those steps; the vapours gave 1807.

Those steps I mounted, as the vapours gave 1837.

... while the vapours gave 1838.

Those steps I clomb; the opening vapours gave C. and 1840.