HINT FROM THE MOUNTAINS,
For certain Political Pretenders[268]
Composed 1817.—Published 1820
[Bunches of fern may often be seen wheeling about in the wind as here described. The particular bunch that suggested these verses was noticed in the Pass of Dunmail Raise. The verses were composed in 1817, but the application is for all times and places.—I. F.]
Included among the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.
"Who but hails the sight with pleasure[269]
When the wings of genius rise,
Their ability to measure
With great enterprise;
But in man was ne'er such daring
As yon Hawk exhibits, pairing
His brave spirit with the war in
The stormy skies!
"Mark him, how his power he uses,
Lays it by, at will resumes!
Mark, ere for his haunt he chooses
Clouds and utter glooms!
There, he wheels in downward mazes;
Sunward now his flight he raises,
Catches fire, as seems, and blazes
With uninjured plumes!"—
ANSWER
"Stranger,[270] 'tis no act of courage
Which aloft thou dost discern;
No bold bird gone forth to forage
'Mid the tempest stern;
But such mockery as the nations
See, when public perturbations[271]
Lift men from their native stations,
Like yon Tuft of fern;
25
"Such it is; the aspiring creature[272]
Soaring on undaunted wing,
(So you fancied) is by nature
A dull helpless thing,[273]
Dry and withered, light and yellow;—
That to be the tempest's fellow!
Wait—and you shall see how hollow
Its endeavouring!"
VARIANTS:
[268] 1827.
1820.
. . . political aspirants.
[269] 1827.
1820.
Stranger, 'tis a sight of pleasure
[270] 1827.
1820.
Traveller, . . .
[271] 1827.
1820.
See, when Commonwealth-vexations
[272] 1827.
1820.
Such it is, and not a Haggard
[273] 1827.
'Tis by nature dull and laggard,
A poor helpless Thing,
THE PASS OF KIRKSTONE[CV]
Composed June 27, 1817.—Published 1820
[Written at Rydal Mount. Thoughts and feelings of many walks in all weathers, by day and night, over this Pass, alone and with beloved friends.—I. F.]
Included among the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
I
Within the mind strong fancies work,
A deep delight the bosom thrills,
Oft as I pass along the fork
Of these fraternal hills:
Where, save the rugged road, we find
No appanage of human kind,
Nor hint of man; if stone or rock
Seem not his handy-work to mock
By something cognizably shaped;
Mockery[274]—or model roughly hewn,
And left as if by earthquake strewn,
Or from the Flood escaped:
Altars for Druid service fit;
(But where no fire was ever lit,
Unless the glow-worm to the skies
Thence offer nightly sacrifice)
Wrinkled Egyptian monument;
Green moss-grown tower; or hoary tent;
Tents of a camp that never shall be razed—[275]
On which four thousand years have gazed!
II
Ye plough-shares sparkling on the slopes!
Ye snow-white lambs that trip
Imprisoned 'mid the formal props
Of restless ownership!
Ye trees, that may[276] to-morrow fall
To feed the insatiate Prodigal![277]
Lawns, houses, chattels, groves, and fields,
All that the fertile valley shields;[278]
Wages of folly—baits of crime,
Of life's uneasy game the stake,
Playthings that keep the eyes awake
Of drowsy, dotard Time;—
O care! O guilt!—O vales and plains,
Here, 'mid[279] his own unvexed domains,
A Genius dwells, that can subdue
At once all memory of You,—
Most potent when mists veil the sky,
Mists that distort and magnify;
While the coarse rushes, to the sweeping breeze,
Sigh forth their ancient melodies!
III
List to those shriller notes!—that march
Perchance was on the blast,
When, through this Height's inverted arch,
Rome's earliest legion passed![CW]
—They saw, adventurously impelled,
And older[280] eyes than theirs beheld,
This[281] block—and yon, whose church-like frame
Gives to this[282] savage Pass its name.[CX]
Aspiring Road! that lov'st to hide
Thy daring in a vapoury bourn,
Not seldom may the hour return
When thou shalt be my guide:
And I (as all men may find cause,[283]
When life is at a weary pause,
And they[284] have panted up the hill
Of duty with reluctant will)
Be thankful, even though tired and faint,
For the rich bounties of constraint;
Whence oft invigorating transports flow
That choice lacked courage to bestow!
IV
My[285] Soul was grateful for delight
That wore a threatening brow;
A veil is lifted—can she slight
The scene that opens now?
Though habitation none appear,[CY]
The greenness tells, man must be there;[286]
The shelter—that the pérspective
Is of the clime[287] in which we live;
Where Toil pursues his daily round;
Where Pity sheds sweet tears[288]—and Love,
In woodbine bower or birchen grove,
Inflicts his tender wound.
—Who comes not hither ne'er shall know
How beautiful the world below;
Nor can he guess how lightly leaps
The brook adown the rocky steeps,[CZ]
Farewell, thou desolate Domain!
Hope, pointing to the cultured plain,
Carols like a shepherd-boy;
And who is she?—Can that be Joy![DA]
Who, with a sunbeam for her guide,
Smoothly skims the meadows wide;
While Faith, from yonder opening cloud,
To hill and vale proclaims aloud,
"Whate'er the weak may dread, the wicked dare,
Thy lot, O Man, is good, thy portion fair!"[289]
A copy of this poem, sent in MS. to the Beaumonts at Coleorton, contains the following preface—"Composed chiefly in a walk from the top of Kirkstone to Patterdale, by W. Wordsworth, 1817"; and on the back of this MS. (in which those variations from the earliest published version occur, which are printed as "MS." readings in the previous footnotes, and which ends with stanza iii.), the date is given, "Mr. Wordsworth's verses, June 27, 1817."—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[274] 1820.
ms. copy, sent to Coleorton.
Rockery . . .
[275] 1857.
1820.
. . . raised;
[276] 1820.
ms.
. . . shall . . .
[277] 1820.
ms.
To feed the careless Prodigal,
ms.
So bids the careless Prodigal,
[278] 1820.
ms.
All that the beauteous valley shields.
[279] 1820.
ms.
Here in . . .
[280] 1820.
ms.
. . . other . . .
[281] 1820.
ms.
That . . .
[282] 1836.
ms. and 1820.
. . . the . . .
[283] 1836.
ms. and 1820.
And I (as often we find cause,
[284] 1836.
ms. and 1820.
. . . we . . .
[285] 1820.
ms.
The . . .
[286] 1820.
ms.
. . tells us Man is near
[287] 1820.
ms.
. . . world . . .
[288] 1820.
ms.
Where Pity's tears are shed . .
[289] 1820.
Who comes not hither can he know
How beautiful the Vale below?
Companion of the Brook that leaps
And twines adown the rocky steeps,
As if impatient for the plain.
I utter a repentant strain,
And this the burden—cares enthral
And troubles crush—but spite of all
The weak are tempted to, the wicked dare,
Our lot is good, our portion fair.
FOOTNOTES:
[CV] The title in the edition of 1820 was Ode, The Pass of Kirkstone.—Ed.
[CW] The top of Kirkstone Pass is aptly described as an "inverted arch." There are numerous signs of the Roman occupation of Britain still surviving in the district; the old Roman road to Penrith running along the top of High Street, a little to the east of Kirkstone.—Ed.
[CX] The block, which from its shape was called the Kirkstone, lies to the west of the road, and a little way from the summit of the Pass, on the right as one ascends from Patterdale.—Ed.
[CY] Towards Brothers Water.—Ed.
[CZ] "The walk up Kirkstone was very interesting. The becks among the rocks were all alive. William showed me the little mossy streamlet which he had before loved when he saw its bright green track in the snow. The view above Ambleside very beautiful. There we sat and looked down on the green vale. We watched the crows at a little distance from us become white as silver as they flew in the sunshine, and when they went still further, they looked like shapes of water passing over the green fields." (Dorothy Wordsworth's Grasmere Journal, 16th April 1802.)—Ed.
[DA] Compare Ode, Intimations of Immortality, stanza iii.—
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!