DECAY OF PIETY
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
[Attendance at church on prayer-days, Wednesdays and
Fridays and Holidays, received a shock at the Revolution. It
is now, however, happily reviving. The ancient people described
in this Sonnet were among the last of that pious class.
May we hope that the practice, now in some degree renewed,
will continue to spread.—I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Oft have I seen, ere Time had ploughed my cheek,
Matrons and Sires—who, punctual to the call
Of their loved Church, on fast or festival
Through the long year the House of Prayer would seek:
By Christmas snows, by visitation bleak 5
Of Easter winds, unscared, from hut or hall
They came to lowly bench or sculptured stall,
But with one fervour of devotion meek.
I see the places where they once were known,
And ask, surrounded even by kneeling crowds, 10
Is ancient Piety for ever flown?
Alas! even then they seemed like fleecy clouds
That, struggling through the western sky, have won
Their pensive light from a departed sun!
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
[Composed, almost extempore, in a short walk on the
western side of Rydal Lake.—I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned,
Mindless of its just honours; with this key
Shakspeare unlocked his heart;[462] the melody
Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound;[463]
A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound;[464] 5
With it Camöens soothed[465] an exile's grief;[466]
The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf
Amid the cypress with which Dante[467] crowned
His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp,
It cheered mild Spenser, called from Faery-land 10
To struggle through dark ways;[468] and, when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The Thing became a trumpet;[469] whence he blew
Soul-animating strains—alas, too few![470]
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
[Suggested by observation of the way in which a young
friend, whom I do not choose to name, misspent his time and
misapplied his talents. He took afterwards a better course,
and became a useful member of society, respected, I believe,
wherever he has been known.—I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Fair Prime of life! were it enough to gild
With ready sunbeams every straggling shower;
And, if an unexpected cloud should lower,
Swiftly thereon a rainbow arch to build
For Fancy's errands,—then, from fields half-tilled 5
Gathering green weeds to mix with poppy flower,
Thee might thy Minions crown, and chant thy power,
Unpitied by the wise, all censure stilled.
Ah! show that worthier honours are thy due;
Fair Prime of life! arouse the deeper heart; 10
Confirm the Spirit glorying to pursue
Some path of steep ascent and lofty aim;
And, if there be a joy that slights the claim
Of grateful memory, bid that joy depart.
RETIREMENT
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
If the whole weight of what we think and feel,
Save only far as thought and feeling blend
With action, were as nothing, patriot Friend!
From thy remonstrance would be no appeal;
But to promote and fortify the weal 5
Of our own Being is her paramount end;
A truth which they alone shall comprehend
Who shun the mischief which they cannot heal.
Peace in these feverish times is sovereign bliss:
Here, with no thirst but what the stream can slake, 10
And startled only by the rustling brake,
Cool air I breathe; while the unincumbered Mind,
By some weak aims at services assigned
To gentle Natures, thanks not Heaven amiss.
"THERE IS A PLEASURE IN POETIC PAINS"
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
There is a pleasure in poetic pains
Which only Poets know;[471]—'twas rightly said;
Whom could the Muses else allure to tread
Their smoothest paths, to wear their lightest chains?
When happiest Fancy has inspired the strains, 5
How oft the malice of one luckless word
Pursues the Enthusiast to the social board,
Haunts him belated on the silent plains!
Yet he repines not, if his thought stand clear,
At last, of hindrance and obscurity, 10
Fresh as the star that crowns the brow of morn;
Bright, speckless, as a softly-moulded tear
The moment it has left the virgin's eye,
Or rain-drop lingering on the pointed thorn.
RECOLLECTION OF THE PORTRAIT OF
KING HENRY EIGHTH, TRINITY LODGE,
CAMBRIDGE[472]
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
The imperial Stature, the colossal stride,
Are yet before me; yet do I behold
The broad full visage, chest of amplest mould,
The vestments 'broidered with barbaric pride:
And lo! a poniard, at the Monarch's side, 5
Hangs ready to be grasped in sympathy
With the keen threatenings of that fulgent eye,
Below the white-rimmed bonnet, far-descried.
Who trembles now at thy capricious mood?
'Mid those surrounding Worthies, haughty King, 10
We rather think, with grateful mind sedate,
How Providence educeth, from the spring
Of lawless will, unlooked-for streams of good,
Which neither force shall check nor time abate!
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
When Philoctetes in the Lemnian isle[473]
Like a Form sculptured on a monument
Lay couched; on him or his dread bow unbent[474]
Some wild Bird oft might settle and beguile
The rigid features of a transient smile, 5
Disperse the tear, or to the sigh give vent,
Slackening the pains of ruthless banishment
From his lov'd home, and from heroic toil.
And trust[475] that spiritual Creatures round us move,
Griefs to allay which[476] Reason cannot heal; 10
Yea, veriest[477] reptiles have sufficed to prove
To fettered wretchedness, that no Bastile[478]
Is deep enough to exclude the light of love,
Though man for brother man has ceased to feel.
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
[This is taken from the account given by Miss Jewsbu̇ry of
the pleasure she derived, when long confined to her bed by
sickness, from the inanimate object on which this sonnet
turns.—I.F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
While Anna's peers[479] and early playmates tread,
In freedom, mountain-turf and river's marge;[480]
Or float with music in the festal barge;
Rein the proud steed, or through the dance are led;
Her doom it is[481] to press a weary bed— 5
Till oft her guardian Angel, to some charge
More urgent called, will stretch his wings at large,
And friends too rarely prop the languid head.
Yet, helped by Genius—untired comforter,[482]
The presence even of a stuffed Owl for her 10
Can cheat the time; sending her fancy out
To ivied castles and to moonlight skies,
Though he can neither stir a plume, nor shout;
Nor veil, with restless film, his staring eyes.
TO THE CUCKOO
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Not the whole warbling grove in concert heard
When sunshine follows shower, the breast can thrill
Like the first summons, Cuckoo! of thy bill,
With its twin notes inseparably paired.[483]
The captive 'mid damp vaults unsunned, unaired, 5
Measuring the periods of his lonely doom,
That cry can reach; and to the sick man's room
Sends gladness, by no languid smile declared.
The lordly eagle-race through hostile search
May perish; time may come when never more 10
The wilderness shall hear the lion roar;
But, long as cock shall crow from household perch
To rouse the dawn, soft gales shall speed thy wing,
And thy erratic voice[484] be faithful to the Spring!
THE INFANT M—— M——
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
[The infant was Mary Monkhouse,[485] the only daughter of
my friend and cousin, Thomas Monkhouse.—I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Unquiet Childhood here by special grace
Forgets her nature, opening like a flower
That neither feeds nor wastes its vital power
In painful struggles. Months each other chase,
And nought untunes that Infant's voice; no trace[486] 5
Of fretful temper sullies her pure cheek;[487]
Prompt, lively, self-sufficing, yet so meek
That one enrapt with gazing on her face
(Which even the placid innocence of death
Could scarcely make more placid, heaven more bright)
Might learn to picture, for the eye of faith, 11
The Virgin, as she shone with kindred light;
A nursling couched upon her mother's knee,
Beneath some shady palm of Galilee.
TO ROTHA Q——
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
[Rotha, the daughter of my son-in-law, Mr. Quillinan.—I. F.]
Rotha, my Spiritual Child! this head was grey
When at the sacred font for thee I stood;
Pledged till thou reach the verge of womanhood,
And shalt become thy own sufficient stay:
Too late, I feel, sweet Orphan, was the day 5
For stedfast hope the contract to fulfil;
Yet shall my blessing hover o'er thee still,
Embodied in the music of this Lay,
Breathed forth beside the peaceful mountain Stream[488]
Whose murmur soothed thy languid Mother's ear 10
After her throes, this Stream of name more dear
Since thou dost bear it,—a memorial theme[489]
For others; for thy future self, a spell
To summon fancies out of Time's dark cell.[490]
TO ——, IN HER SEVENTIETH YEAR[491]
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
[Lady Fitzgerald, as described to me by Lady Beaumont.—I.F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
Such age how beautiful! O Lady bright,
Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined
By favouring Nature and a saintly Mind
To something purer and more exquisite
Than flesh and blood; whene'er thou meet'st my sight,
When I behold thy blanched unwithered cheek, 6
Thy temples fringed with locks of gleaming white,
And head that droops because the soul is meek,
Thee with the welcome Snowdrop I compare;
That child of winter, prompting thoughts that climb 10
From desolation toward[492] the genial prime;
Or with the Moon conquering earth's misty air,
And filling more and more with crystal light
As pensive Evening deepens into night.[493]
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets."—Ed.
In my mind's eye a Temple, like a cloud
Slowly surmounting some invidious hill,
Rose out of darkness: the bright Work stood still;
And might of its own beauty have been proud,
But it was fashioned and to God was vowed 5
By Virtues that diffused, in every part,
Spirit divine through forms of human art:
Faith had her arch—her arch, when winds blow loud,
Into the consciousness of safety thrilled;
And Love her towers of dread foundation laid 10
Under the grave of things; Hope had her spire
Star-high, and pointing still to something higher;
Trembling I gazed, but heard a voice—it said,
"Hell-gates are powerless Phantoms when we build."
Composed 1827.—Published 1827
One of the "Poems dedicated to National Independence and
Liberty."—Ed.
Go back to antique ages, if thine eyes
The genuine mien and character would trace
Of the rash Spirit that still holds her place,
Prompting the world's audacious vanities!
Go back, and see[494] the Tower of Babel rise; 5
The pyramid extend its monstrous base,
For some Aspirant of our short-lived race,
Anxious an aery name to immortalize.
There, too, ere wiles and politic dispute
Gave specious colouring to aim and act, 10
See the first mighty Hunter leave the brute—
To chase mankind, with men in armies packed
For his field-pastime high and absolute,
While, to dislodge his game, cities are sacked!
Published 1827
[These verses were written some time after we had become
residents at Rydal Mount, and I will take occasion from them
to observe upon the beauty of that situation, as being backed
and flanked by lofty fells, which bring the heavenly bodies to
touch, as it were, the earth upon the mountain-tops, while the
prospect in front lies open to a length of level valley, the
extended lake, and a terminating ridge of low hills; so that it
gives an opportunity to the inhabitants of the place of noticing
the stars in both the positions here alluded to, namely, on the
tops of the mountains, and as winter-lamps at a distance among
the leafless trees.—I. F.]