« AnteriorContinuar »
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie He sees it in his joy;
70 Thy soul's immensity; The youth, who daily farther from the
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost east
keep Must travel, still is Nature's priest.
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind, And by the vision splendid
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal Is on his way attended;
deep, At length the man perceives it die away, 75
Haunted forever by the eternal mind, And fade into the light of common day.
Mighty prophet! Seer blest!
Which we are toiling all our lives to find, Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her In darkness lost, the darkness of the own;
grave; Yearnings she hath in her own natural Thou, over whom thy immortality kind,
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave, And, even with something of a mother's A presence which is not to be put by; 120 mind,
Thou little child, yet glorious in the might And no unworthy aim,
80 Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's The homely nurse doth all she can
height, To make her foster-child, her inmate Man, Why with such earnest pains dost thou Forget the glories he hath known,
provoke And that imperial palace whence he The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly Behold the Child among his new-born
And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Is something that doth live, 130
The thought of our past years in me doth Shaped by himself with newly-learnèd art;
breed A wedding or a festival,
Perpetual benediction: not indeed A mourning or a funeral;
For that which is most worthy to be And this hath now his heart, 95
135 And unto this he frames his song: Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Then will he fit his tongue Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, To dialogues of business, love, or strife; With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his But it will not be long
breast: Ere this be thrown aside,
Not for these I raise And with new joy and pride
The song of thanks and praise; The little actor cons another part;
But for those obstinate questionings Filling from time to time his “humorous Of sense and outward things, stage”
Fallings from us, vanishings; With all the persons, down to palsied Age, Blank misgivings of a creature That Life brings with her in her equipage; Moving about in worlds not realised, 145 As if his whole vocation
106 | High instincts before which our mortal Were endless imitation.
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised: Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; But for those first affections,
I only have relinquished one delight 190 Those shadowy recollections,
To live beneath your more habitual sway. Which, be they what they may, 150 I love the brooks which down their chanAre yet the fountain light of all our day,
nels fret, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Even more than when I tripped lightly as Uphold us, cherish, and have power to they; make
The innocent brightness of a new-born day Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Is lovely yet;
195 Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, The clouds that gather round the setting To perish never;
156 Which neither listlessness, nor mad en- Do take a sober coloring from an eye deavor,
That hath kept watch o'er man's morNor man nor boy,
tality; Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Another race hath been, and other palms Can utterly abolish or destroy! 160
Hence in a season of calm weather Thanks to the human heart by which we Though inland far we be,
live, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, Which brought us hither,
To me the meanest flower that blows can Can in a moment travel thither, 165 give And see the children sport upon the shore, Thoughts that do often lie too deep for And hear the mighty waters rolling ever- tears.
TO A SKY-LARK Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! song!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares And let the young lambs bound
abound? As to the tabor's sound!
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play, Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Ye that through your hearts to-day Thy nest which thou canst drop into at Feel the gladness of the May!
5 What though the radiance which was once Those quivering wings composed, that so bright
175 music still! Be now forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; hour
A privacy of glorious light is thine; Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flower;
flood We will grieve not, rather find Of harmony, with instinct more divine; 10 Strength in what remains behind; 180 Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; In the primal sympathy
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Which having been must ever be;
Once did she hold the gorgeous east in fee; And 0 ye fountains, meadows, hills, and And was the safeguard of the west: the groves,
worth Forebode not any severing of our loves! Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest child of Liberty. All bright and glittering in the smokeless
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; Those titles vanish, and that strength de- And all that mighty heart is lying still!
ON THE SEA-SHORE NEAR CALAIS day: Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, Of that which once was great is passed The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun away.
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make Milton! thou should'st be living at this A sound like thunder-everlastingly. hour:
Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with England hath need of thee: she is a fen
me here, Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, If thou appear untouched by solemn Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and thought, bower,
Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Have forfeited their ancient English Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the dower
year; Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; And worship’st at the temple's inner Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
shrine, And give us manners, virtue, freedom, God being with thee when we know it not.
power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like
THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH
The world is too much with us: late and
soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our
Little we see in Nature that is ours; COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER We have given our hearts away, a sordid BRIDGE, SEPT. 3, 1802
This Sea that bares her bosom to the Earth has not anything to show more moon;
The winds that will be howling at all Dull would he be of soul who could pass by hours, A sight so touching in its majesty: And are up-gathered now like sleeping This city now doth, like a garment, wear
flowers; The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, 5 For this, for everything, we are out of Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and tem
It moves us not.-Great God! I'd rather be Open unto the fields, and to the sky; | A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, How oft, pursuing fancies holy, Have glimpses that would make me less My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I forlorn;
wound, Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Inspired beyond the guess of folly, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn. By each rude shape and wild unconquer
Oye loud Waves! and Oye Forests high!15 TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE
And 0 ye Clouds that far above me
soared! Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men!
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky! Whether the whistling rustic tend his
Yea, every thing that is and will be plough
free! Within thy hearing, or thy head be now
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless
With what deep worship I have still den;
adored O miserable Chieftain! where and when 5
The spirit of divinest Liberty. Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not! do
thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow:
II Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, When France in wrath her giant-limbs upLive, and take comfort. Thou hast left
And with that oath which smote air, Powers that will work for thee, air, earth, earth and sea, and skies:
Stamped her strong foot and said she There's not a breathing of the common
would be free, wind
Bear witness for me, how I hoped and That will forget thee; thou hast great
With what a joy my lofty gratulation Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
Unawed I sang, amid a slavish band: And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
And when to whelm the disenchanted
nation, SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE Like fiends embattled by a wizard's (1772–1834)
The Monarchs marched in evil day, 30 FRANCE: AN ODE
And Britain joined the dire array; Though dear her shores and circling
ocean, Ye Clouds! that far above me float and Though many friendships, many youthful pause,
loves Whose pathless march no mortal may Had swoln the patriot emotion control!
And flung a magic light o'er all her hills Ye Ocean Waves! that, whereso'er ye
Yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat Yield homage only to eternal laws!
To all that braved the tyrant-quelling Ye Woods! that listen to the night-bird's lance, singing,
5 And shame too long delayed and vain Midway the smooth and perilous slope retreat! reclined,
For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim Save when your own imperious branches I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy swinging,
40 Have made a solemn music of the wind! But blessed the pæans of delivered Where, like a man beloved of God,
France, Through glooms, which never woodman And hung my head and wept at Britain's
With bleeding wounds; forgive me, that And what,” I said, “though Blasphemy's One thought that ever blessed your cruel
70 loud scream
foes! With that sweet music of deliverance
To scatter rage and traitorous guilt strove!
Where Peace her jealous home had built; Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove
A patriot-race to disinherit 45
Of all that made their stormy wilds so A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's
And with inexpiable spirit Ye storms, that round the dawning
To taint the bloodless freedom of the east assembled,
mountaineer The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!”
O France, that mockest Heaven, adul
terous, blind, And when to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,
And patriot only in pernicious toils!
Are these thy boasts, Champion of The dissonance ceased, and all seemed
80 calm and bright;
50 When France her front deep-scarred
To mix with Kings in the low lust of
Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous Concealed with clustering wreaths of glory
To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils When, insupportably advancing, Her arm made mockery of the warrior's
From freemen torn; to tempt and to
betray? ramp; While timid looks of fury glancing, 55 Domestic treason, crushed beneath her
The Sensual and the Dark rebel in fatal stamp, Writhed like a wounded dragon in his
Slaves by their own compulsion! In gore; Then I reproached my fears that would not flee;
They burst their manacles and wear the “And soon,” I said, "shall Wisdom teach
Of Freedom, graven on a heavier her lore
chain! In the low huts of them that toil and
O Liberty! with profitless endeavor groan;
Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour; And, conquering by her happiness alone,
But thou nor swell'st the victor's Shall France compel the nations to be free,
strain, nor ever
Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human Till Love and Joy look round, and call the earth their own."
power. Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee,
(Nor prayer, nor boastful name deIV
lays thee) Forgive me, Freedom! Oh forgive those Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions, 95 dreams!
And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves, I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament, Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions, From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns The guide of homeless winds, and playsent
66 mate of the waves! I hear thy groans upon her blood-stained And there I felt thee!-on that sea-cliff's streams!
verge, Heroes, that for your peaceful country Whose pines, scarce travelled by the perished,
breeze above, And ye, that fleeing, spot your mountain Had made one murmur with the distant snows