XL
CONTINUED
Mine ear has rung, my spirit[328] sunk subdued,
Sharing the strong emotion of the crowd,
When each pale brow to dread hosannas bowed
While clouds of incense mounting veiled the rood,
That glimmered like a pine-tree dimly viewed 5
Through Alpine vapours. Such appalling rite
Our Church prepares not, trusting to the might
Of simple truth with grace divine imbued;
Yet will we not conceal the precious Cross,
Like men ashamed:[329] the Sun with his first smile
Shall greet that symbol crowning the low Pile: 11
And the fresh air of incense-breathing morn[330]
Shall wooingly embrace it; and green moss
Creep round its arms through centuries unborn.
XLI
NEW CHURCH-YARD
The encircling ground, in native turf arrayed,
Is now by solemn consecration given
To social interests, and to favouring Heaven,
And where the rugged colts their gambols played,
And wild deer bounded through the forest glade, 5
Unchecked as when by merry Outlaw driven,
Shall hymns of praise resound at morn and even;
And soon, full soon, the lonely Sexton's spade
Shall wound the tender sod. Encincture small,
But infinite its grasp of weal and woe![331] 10
Hopes, fears, in never-ending ebb and flow;—
The spousal trembling, and the "dust to dust,"
The prayers, the contrite struggle, and the trust
That to the Almighty Father looks through all.
XLII
CATHEDRALS, ETC.
Open your gates, ye everlasting Piles!
Types of the spiritual Church which God hath reared;
Not loth we quit the newly-hallowed sward
And humble altar, 'mid your sumptuous aisles
To kneel, or thrid your intricate defiles, 5
Or down the nave to pace in motion slow;
Watching, with upward eye,[332] the tall tower grow
And mount, at every step, with living wiles
Instinct—to rouse the heart and lead the will
By a bright ladder to the world above. 10
Open your gates, ye Monuments of love
Divine! thou Lincoln, on thy sovereign hill!
Thou, stately York! and Ye, whose splendours cheer
Isis and Cam, to patient Science dear![333]
XLIII
INSIDE OF KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL,
CAMBRIDGE
Tax not the royal Saint[334] with vain expense,
With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned—
Albeit labouring for a scanty band
Of white-robed Scholars only—this immense
And glorious Work of fine intelligence! 5
Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore
Of nicely-calculated less or more;
So deemed the man who fashioned for the sense
These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof
Self-poised, and scooped into ten thousand cells, 10
Where light and shade repose, where music dwells
Lingering—and wandering on as loth to die;
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
That they were born for immortality.
XLIV
THE SAME
What awful pérspective! while from our sight
With gradual stealth the lateral windows hide
Their Portraitures, their stone-work glimmers, dyed
In[335] the soft chequerings of a sleepy light.
Martyr, or King, or sainted Eremite, 5
Whoe'er ye be, that thus, yourselves unseen,
Imbue your prison-bars with solemn sheen,
Shine on, until ye fade with coming Night!—
But, from the arms of silence—list! O list!
The music bursteth into second life; 5
The notes luxuriate, every stone is kissed
By sound, or ghost of sound, in mazy strife;
Heart-thrilling strains, that cast, before the eye
Of the devout, a veil of ecstasy!
XLV
CONTINUED
They dreamt not of a perishable home
Who thus could build.[336] Be mine, in hours of fear
Or grovelling thought, to seek a refuge here;
Or through the aisles of Westminster to roam;
Where bubbles burst, and folly's dancing foam 5
Melts, if it cross the threshold; where the wreath
Of awe-struck wisdom droops: or let my path
Lead to that younger Pile, whose sky-like dome[337]
Hath typified by reach of daring art
Infinity's embrace; whose guardian crest, 10
The silent Cross, among the stars shall spread
As now, when She hath also seen her breast
Filled with mementos, satiate with its part
Of grateful England's overflowing Dead.
XLVI
EJACULATION
Glory to God! and to the Power who came
In filial duty, clothed with love divine,
That made his human tabernacle shine
Like Ocean burning with purpureal flame;
Or like the Alpine Mount, that takes its name 5
From roseate hues,[338] far kenned at morn and even,
In hours of peace, or when the storm is driven
Along the nether region's rugged frame!
Earth prompts—Heaven urges; let us seek the light,
Studious of that pure intercourse begun 10
When first our infant brows their lustre won;
So, like the Mountain, may we grow more bright
From unimpeded commerce with the Sun,
At the approach of all-involving night.
XLVII
CONCLUSION
Why sleeps the future, as a snake enrolled,
Coil within coil, at noon-tide? For the Word
Yields, if with unpresumptuous faith explored,
Power at whose touch the sluggard shall unfold
His drowsy rings. Look forth!—that Stream behold,
That Stream upon whose bosom we have passed 6
Floating at ease while nations have effaced
Nations, and Death has gathered to his fold
Long lines of mighty Kings—look forth, my Soul!
(Nor in this[339] vision be thou slow to trust) 10
The living Waters, less and less by guilt
Stained and polluted, brighten as they roll,
Till they have reached the eternal City—built
For the perfected Spirits of the just!
TO THE LADY FLEMING,[340]
On seeing the Foundation preparing for the
Erection of Rydal Chapel,[341] Westmoreland
Composed 1822.—Published 1827
[After thanking Lady Fleming in prose for the service she
had done to her neighbourhood by erecting this Chapel, I have
nothing to say beyond the expression of regret that the architect
did not furnish an elevation better suited to the site in a narrow
mountain-pass, and, what is of more consequence, better constructed
in the interior for the purposes of worship. It has no
chancel; the altar is unbecomingly confined; the pews are so
narrow as to preclude the possibility of kneeling with comfort;
there is no vestry; and what ought to have been first mentioned,
the font, instead of standing at its proper place at the entrance,
is thrust into the farther end of a pew. When these defects
shall be pointed out to the munificent Patroness, they will,
it is hoped, be corrected.—I. F.[342]]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection," from the
edition of 1827 to that of 1843; but transferred, in 1845, to
the "Miscellaneous Poems." From 1827 to 1836 the title
was "To the Lady ——, on seeing the foundation preparing for
the erection of —— Chapel, Westmoreland."—Ed.
I
Blest is this Isle—our native Land;
Where battlement and moated gate
Are objects only for the hand
Of hoary Time to decorate;
Where shady hamlet, town that breathes 5
Its busy smoke in social wreaths,
No rampart's stern defence require,
Nought but the heaven-directed spire,
And[343] steeple tower (with pealing bells
Far-heard)—our only citadels. 10
II
O Lady! from a noble line
Of chieftains sprung,[344] who stoutly bore
The spear, yet gave to works divine
A bounteous help in days of yore,
(As records mouldering in the Dell 15
Of Nightshade[345] haply yet may tell;)
Thee kindred aspirations moved
To build, within a vale beloved,
For Him upon whose high behests
All peace depends, all safety rests. 20
III[346]
How fondly will the woods embrace
This daughter of thy pious care,
Lifting her[347] front with modest grace
To make a fair recess more fair;
And to exalt the passing hour; 25
Or soothe it with a healing power
Drawn from the Sacrifice fulfilled,
Before this rugged soil was tilled,
Or human habitation rose
To interrupt the deep repose![348] 30
IV
Well may the villagers rejoice!
Nor heat, nor cold, nor weary ways,
Will be[349] a hindrance to the voice
That would unite in prayer and praise;
More duly shall wild wandering Youth 35
Receive the curb of sacred truth,
Shall tottering Age, bent earthward, hear
The Promise, with uplifted ear;[350]
And all shall welcome the new ray
Imparted to their sabbath-day. 40
V
Nor deem the Poet's hope misplaced,
His fancy cheated—that can see
A shade upon the future cast,
Of time's pathetic sanctity;
Can hear the monitory clock 45
Sound o'er the lake with gentle shock[351]
At evening,[352] when the ground beneath
Is ruffled o'er with cells of death;
Where happy generations lie,
Here tutored for eternity. 50
VI
Lives there a man whose sole delights
Are trivial pomp and city noise,
Hardening a heart that loathes or slights
What every natural heart enjoys?
Who never caught a noon-tide dream 55
From murmur of a running stream;
Could strip, for aught the prospect yields
To him, their verdure from the fields;
And take the radiance from the clouds
In which the sun his setting shrouds.[353] 60
VII
A soul so pitiably forlorn,
If such do on this earth abide,
May season apathy with scorn,
May turn indifference to pride;
And still be not unblest—compared 65
With him who grovels, self-debarred[354]
From all that lies within the scope
Of holy faith and christian hope;
Or, shipwreck'd, kindles on the coast
False fires, that others may be lost.[355] 70
VIII
Alas! that such perverted zeal
Should spread on Britain's favoured ground![356]
That public order, private weal,
Should e'er have felt or feared a wound
From champions of the desperate law 75
Which from their own blind hearts they draw;[357]
Who tempt their reason to deny
God, whom their passions dare defy,[358]
And boast that they alone are free
Who reach this dire extremity! 80
IX
But turn we from these "bold bad" men;[359]
The way, mild Lady! that hath led
Down to their "dark opprobrious den,"[360]
Is all too rough for Thee to tread.
Softly as morning vapours glide 85
Down Rydal-cove from Fairfield's side,[361]
Should move the tenor of his song
Who means to charity no wrong;
Whose offering gladly would accord
With this day's work, in thought and word. 90
X
Heaven prosper it! may peace, and love,
And hope, and consolation, fall,
Through its meek influence, from above,
And penetrate the hearts of all;
All who, around the hallowed Fane, 95
Shall sojourn in this fair domain;
Grateful to Thee, while service pure,
And ancient ordinance, shall endure,
For opportunity bestowed
To kneel together, and adore their God![362] 100
ON THE SAME OCCASION
Composed 1822.—Published 1827
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection" from the
edition of 1827 to that of 1843. In 1835 transferred to the
"Miscellaneous Poems."—Ed.
Oh! gather whencesoe'er ye safely may
The help which slackening Piety requires;
Nor deem that he perforce must go astray
Who treads upon the footmarks of his sires.
Our churches, invariably perhaps, stand east and west, but
why is by few persons exactly known; nor, that the degree of
deviation from due east often noticeable in the ancient ones was
determined, in each particular case, by the point in the horizon,
at which the sun rose upon the day of the saint to whom the
church was dedicated.[363] These observances of our ancestors,
and the causes of them, are the subject of the following
stanzas.
When in the antique age of bow and spear
And feudal rapine clothed with iron mail,
Came ministers of peace, intent to rear
The Mother Church in yon sequestered vale;[364]
Then, to her Patron Saint a previous rite 5
Resounded with deep swell and solemn close,
Through unremitting vigils of the night,
Till from his couch the wished-for Sun uprose.
He rose, and straight—as by divine command,
They, who had waited for that sign to trace 10
Their work's foundation, gave with careful hand
To the high altar its determined place;
Mindful of Him who in the Orient born
There lived, and on the cross his life resigned,
And who, from out the regions of the morn, 15
Issuing in pomp, shall come to judge mankind.
So taught their creed;—nor failed the eastern sky,
'Mid these more awful feelings, to infuse
The sweet and natural hopes that shall not die,
Long as the sun his gladsome course renews. 20
For us hath such prelusive vigil ceased;
Yet still we plant, like men of elder days,
Our christian altar faithful to the east,
Whence the tall window drinks the morning rays;
That obvious emblem giving to the eye 25
Of meek devotion, which erewhile it gave,
That symbol of the day-spring from on high,
Triumphant o'er the darkness of the grave.[365]
1823
Only one poem and two sonnets were written in 1823.—Ed.
MEMORY
Composed 1823.—Published 1827
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection." See the
Fenwick note to the lines Written in a Blank Leaf of Macpherson's
Ossian (p. 373 of this volume), where Wordsworth says
that the poem was "suggested from apprehensions of the fate
of his friend, H. C." (Hartley Coleridge).—Ed.