The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Poetical Works Of William Wordsworth Vol. VI, by William Wordsworth and Ed William Knight.

No more—the guilt is banish'd,

And, with the guilt, the shame is fled;

And, with the guilt and shame, the Woe hath vanish'd,

130

Shaking the dust and ashes from her head!

—No more—these lingerings of distress

Sully the limpid stream of thankfulness.

What robe can Gratitude employ

So seemly as the radiant vest of Joy?

135

What steps so suitable as those that move

In prompt obedience to spontaneous measures

Of glory, and felicity, and love,

Surrendering the whole heart to sacred pleasures?

O Britain! dearer far than life is dear,[AW]

140

If one there be

Of all thy progeny [95]

Who can forget thy prowess, never more

Be that [96] ungrateful Son allowed to hear

Thy green leaves rustle or thy torrents roar.

145

As springs the lion from his den,

As from a forest-brake

Upstarts a glistering snake,

The bold Arch-despot re-appeared;[97][AX]—again

Wide Europe heaves, impatient to be cast,

150

With all her armèd Powers,

On that offensive soil, like waves upon a thousand shores.[98]

The trumpet blew a universal blast![AY]

But Thou art foremost in the field:[AZ]—there stand:

Receive the triumph destined to thy hand!

155

All States have glorified themselves;—their claims

Are weighed by Providence, in balance even;

And now, in preference to the mightiest names,

To Thee the exterminating sword [99] is given.

Dread mark of approbation, justly gained!

160

Exalted office, worthily sustained!

Preserve, O Lord! within our hearts

The memory of thy favour,

That else insensibly departs,

And loses its sweet savour!

165

Lodge it within us!—as the power of light

Lives inexhaustibly in precious gems,

Fixed on the front of Eastern diadems,

So shine our thankfulness for ever bright!

What offering, what transcendent monument

170

Shall our sincerity to Thee present?

—Not work of hands; but trophies that may reach

To highest Heaven—the labour of the Soul;

That builds, as thy unerring precepts teach,

Upon the internal conquests made by each,[100]

175

Her hope of lasting glory for the whole.

Yet will not heaven disown nor earth gainsay [101]

The outward service of this day;

Whether the worshippers entreat

Forgiveness from God's mercy-seat;

180

Or thanks and praises to His throne ascend

That He has [102] brought our warfare to an end,

And that we need no second [103] victory!—[BA]

Ha! what a ghastly sight for man to see;

And to the heavenly saints in peace who dwell,

185

For a brief moment, terrible;

But, to thy sovereign penetration, fair,

Before whom all things are, that were,

All judgments that have been, or e'er shall be;

Links in the chain of thy tranquillity!

190

Along the bosom of this favoured Nation,

Breathe Thou, this day, a vital undulation!

Let all who do this land inherit

Be conscious of thy moving spirit!

Oh, 'tis a goodly Ordinance,—the sight,

195

Though sprung from bleeding war, is one of pure delight;

Bless Thou the hour, or ere the hour arrive,

When a whole people shall kneel down in prayer,

And, at one moment, in one rapture,[104] strive

With lip and heart to tell their gratitude

200

For thy protecting care,

Their solemn joy—praising the Eternal Lord

For tyranny subdued,

And for the sway of equity renewed,

204

For liberty confirmed, and peace restored!

But hark—the summons!—down the placid lake

Floats the soft cadence of the church-tower bells;[BB]

Bright shines the Sun, as if his beams would wake [105]

The tender insects sleeping in their cells;

Bright shines the Sun—and not a breeze to shake

210

The drops that tip [106] the melting icicles.

O, enter now his temple gate!

Inviting words—perchance already flung

(As the crowd press devoutly down the aisle

Of some old Minster's venerable pile)

215

From voices into zealous passion stung,

While the tubed engine feels the inspiring blast,

And has begun—its clouds of sound to cast

Forth towards [107] empyreal Heaven,

As if the fretted roof were riven.

220

Us, humbler ceremonies now await;

But in the bosom, with devout respect

The banner of our joy we will erect,

And strength of love our souls shall elevate:

For to a few collected in his name,

225

Their heavenly Father will incline an ear

Gracious to service hallowed by its aim;—[108]

Awake! the majesty of God revere!

Go—and with foreheads meekly bowed

Present your prayers—go—and rejoice aloud—

230

The Holy One will hear!

And what, 'mid silence deep, with faith sincere,

Ye, in your low and undisturbed estate,

Shall simply feel and purely meditate—

Of warnings—from the unprecedented might,

235

Which, in our time, the impious have disclosed;

And of more arduous duties thence imposed

Upon the future advocates of right;

Of mysteries revealed,

And judgments unrepealed,

240

Of earthly revolution,

And final retribution,—

To his omniscience will appear

An offering not unworthy to find place,

On this high Day of Thanks, before the Throne of Grace!

Replying to some criticism on this Ode by Southey, Wordsworth wrote to his friend as follows:—"I am much of your mind in respect to my Ode. Had it been a hymn, uttering the sentiments of a multitude, a stanza would have been indispensable. But though I have called it a 'Thanksgiving Ode,' strictly speaking it is not so, but a poem, composed, or supposed to be composed, on the morning of the thanksgiving, uttering the sentiments of an individual upon that occasion. It is a dramatised ejaculation; and this, if anything can, must excuse the irregular frame of the metre. In respect to a stanza for a grand subject designed to be treated comprehensively, there are great objections. If the stanza be short, it will scarcely allow of fervour and importunity, unless so short, as that the sense is run perpetually from one stanza to another, as in Horace's Alcaics; and if it be long, it will be as apt to generate diffuseness as to check it. Of this we have innumerable instances in Spenser and the Italian poets. The sense required cannot be included in one given stanza, so that another whole stanza is added, not infrequently, for the sake of matter which would naturally include itself in a very few lines.

"If Gray's plan be adopted, there is not time to become acquainted with the arrangement, and to recognise with pleasure the recurrence of the movement.

"Be so good as let me know where you found most difficulty in following me. The passage which I most suspect of being misunderstood is

And thus is missed the sole true glory;

and the passage where I doubt most about the reasonableness of expecting that the reader should follow me in the luxuriance of the imagery and the language, is the one that describes, under so many metaphors, the spreading of the news of the Waterloo victory over the globe."

The last reference in this letter is to the lines in that part of the Ode, which follows—

Joyful annunciation!—it went forth—

It pierced the caverns of the sluggish North, etc."

Ed.

[96] 1845.

Land of our fathers! precious unto me

Since the first joys of thinking infancy;

When of thy gallant chivalry I read,

And hugged the volume on my sleepless bed!

O England!—dearer far than life is dear,

If I forget thy prowess, never more

1816.

Be thy . . .

Land of our fathers! loved by me

Since the first joys of thinking infancy;

Loved with a passion since I caught thy praise

A Listener, at or on some patient knee,

With an ear fastened to rude ballad lays—

Or of thy gallant chivalry I read,

And hugged the volume on a sleepless bed!

1837.

O England!—dearer far, etc.

[98] 1845.

. . . . . . . torrents roar!

But how can He be faithless to the past,

Whose soul, intolerant of base decline,

Saw in thy virtue a celestial sign,

That bade him hope, and to his hope cleave fast!

The nations strove with puissance;—at length

Wide Europe heaved, impatient to be cast,

With all her living strength,

With all her armed powers,

1816.

Upon the offensive shores.

[AQ] This "Advertisement" was prefixed to the poem, in all editions from 1816 to 1843. In 1845, when part of the Ode, beginning

Imagination—ne'er before content

was detached from the rest, and turned into a separate Ode, with the date 1815 appended, the "Advertisement" was thrown into a "note" at the end of the volume, and it retained this place in subsequent editions. In Lord Coleridge's copy of the edition of 1836-37—before the stanzas which were afterwards separated to form the second Ode—"Waterloo" is written.—Ed.

ODE

The first and the fourth stanzas of this Ode formed stanzas ix. and xii. of the Thanksgiving Ode from 1816 to 1842. In 1845 it was printed as number XLV. of the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.

Imagination—ne'er before content,

But aye ascending, restless in her pride

From all that martial feats could yield

To her desires, or to her hopes present—

Stooped to the Victory, on that Belgic field

Achieved, this closing deed magnificent,[109]

And with the embrace was satisfied.[110]

—Fly, ministers of Fame,

With every help that ye from earth and heaven may claim![111]

Bear through the world these tidings of delight!

—Hours, Days, and Months, have borne them in the sight

Of mortals, hurrying like a sudden shower [112]

That land-ward stretches from the sea,

The morning's splendours to devour;

But this swift travel scorns the company

Of irksome change, or threats from saddening power.[113]

—The shock is given—the Adversaries bleed—

Lo, Justice triumphs! Earth is freed!

Joyful annunciation!—it went forth—[114]

It pierced the caverns of the sluggish North—[BC]

It found no barrier on the ridge

Of Andes—frozen gulphs became its bridge—

The vast Pacific gladdens with the freight—

Upon the Lakes of Asia 'tis bestowed—

The Arabian desert shapes a willing road

Across her burning breast,

For this refreshing incense from the West!—[BD]

—Where snakes and lions breed,

Where towns and cities thick as stars appear,

Wherever fruits are gathered, and where'er

The upturned soil receives the hopeful seed—

While the Sun rules, and cross the shades of night—

The unwearied arrow hath pursued its flight!

The eyes of good men thankfully give heed,

And in its sparkling progress read

Of virtue crowned with glory's deathless meed:[115]

Tyrants exult to hear of kingdoms won,

And slaves are pleased to learn that mighty feats are done;

Even the proud Realm, from whose distracted borders

This messenger of good was launched in air,

France, humbled [116] France, amid her wild disorders,

Feels, and hereafter shall the truth declare,

That she too lacks not reason to rejoice,

And utter England's name with sadly-plausive voice.

O genuine glory, pure renown!

And well might it beseem that mighty Town [BE]

Into whose bosom earth's best treasures flow,[117]

To whom all persecuted men retreat;

If a new Temple lift her [118] votive brow

High on [119] the shore of silver Thames—to greet

The peaceful guest advancing from afar.

Bright be the Fabric,[120] as a star

Fresh risen, and beautiful within!—there meet

Dependence infinite, proportion just;

A Pile that Grace approves, and Time can trust

With his most sacred wealth, heroic dust.[121]

But if the valiant of this land

In reverential modesty demand,

That all observance, due to them, be paid

Where their serene progenitors are laid;

Kings, warriors, high-souled poets, saint-like sages,

England's illustrious sons of long, long ages;

Be it not unordained that solemn rites,

Within the circuit of those Gothic walls,[BF]

Shall be performed at pregnant intervals;

Commemoration holy that unites

The living generations with the dead;

By the deep soul-moving sense

Of religious eloquence,—

By visual pomp, and by the tie

Of sweet and threatening harmony;

Soft notes, awful as the omen

Of destructive tempests coming,

And escaping from that sadness

Into elevated gladness;

While the white-rob'd choir attendant,

Under mouldering banners pendant,

Provoke all potent symphonies to raise

Songs of victory and praise,

For them who bravely stood unhurt, or bled

With medicable wounds, or found their graves

Upon the battle field, or under ocean's waves;

Or were conducted home in single state,

And long procession—there to lie,

Where their sons' sons, and all posterity,

Unheard by them, their deeds shall celebrate!

Nor will the God of peace and love

Such martial service disapprove.

He guides the Pestilence—the cloud

Of locusts travels on his breath;

The region that in hope was ploughed

His drought consumes, his mildew taints with death;

He springs the hushed Volcano's mine,

He puts the Earthquake on her still design,[BG]

Darkens the sun, hath bade the forest sink,

And, drinking towns and cities, still can drink

Cities and towns—'tis Thou—the work is Thine!—

The fierce Tornado sleeps within thy courts—

He hears the word—he flies—

100

And navies perish in their ports;

For Thou art angry with thine enemies!

For these, and mourning for our errors,[122]

And sins, that point their terrors,

We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud

105

And magnify thy name, Almighty God!

But Man is thy most awful instrument,

In working out a pure intent;[123]

Thou cloth'st the wicked in their dazzling mail,

And for thy righteous purpose [124] they prevail;

110

Thine arm from peril guards the coasts

Of them who in thy laws delight:

Thy presence turns the scale of doubtful fight,

Tremendous God of battles, Lord of Hosts![BH]

Forbear:—to Thee—

115

Father and Judge of all, with fervent tongue

But in a gentler strain [125]

Of contemplation, by no sense of wrong

(Too quick and keen) incited to disdain

Of pity pleading from the heart in vain—[126]

120

To Thee—To Thee

Just God of christianised Humanity

Shall praises be poured forth, and thanks ascend,[127]

That thou hast brought our warfare to an end,

And that we need no second [128] victory!

125

Blest, above measure blest,

If on thy love our Land her hopes shall rest,

And all the Nations labour to fulfil

Thy law, and live henceforth in peace, in pure good will.[129]

In an early MS. copy of this Ode, it concludes thus, after the line "And that we need no further victory!"