ODE
Composed 1816.—Published 1816
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.
I
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.
II
45
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]
III
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!
IV
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—
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
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;
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]
V
Forbear:—to Thee—
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]
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!
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!"
Ha! what a ghastly sight for man to see;
And to the heavenly saints in peace who dwell,
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!
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,
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 spirit, strive
With lip and heart to tell their gratitude
For thy protecting care,
Their solemn joy—praising the Eternal Lord
For tyranny subdued,
And for the sway of equity renewed,
For liberty confirmed, and peace restored!
VARIANTS:
[109] 1845.
From all that man's performance could present,
Stoops to that closing deed magnificent,
[110] 1845.
1816.
. . . is satisfied.
[111] 1845.
1816.
Whate'er your means, whatever help ye claim,
[112] 1837.
1816.
. . . travelling faster than the shower,
[113] 1845.
. . . to devour;
But this appearance scattered extacy,—
And heart-sick Europe blessed the healing power.
. . . to devour,
In summer's loveliest hour;
But this assurance travelled fraught with glee,
And heart-sick Europe blessed its healing power.
. . . to devour,
But this assurance travelled fraught with glee,
And heart-sick Europe blessed its healing power.
[114] 1837.
1816.
Such glad assurance suddenly went forth—
[115] 1837.
1816.
How virtue triumphs, from her bondage freed!
[116] 1845.
1816.
. . . conquered . . .
[117] 1845.
—Yet might it well become that City now,
Into whose breast the tides of grandeur flow,
[118] 1820.
1816.
. . . its . . .
[119] 1837.
1819.
Upon . . .
[120] 1850.
1816.
Bright be the distant fabric, . . .
1845.
Bright be the peaceful Fabric, . . .
[121] 1827.
1816.
. . . and time can trust.
The next line was omitted in 1816.
[122] 1845.
1816.
. . . and for our errors,
[123] 1845.
But thy most dreaded instrument,
In working out a pure intent,
Is Man—arrayed for mutual slaughter,—
Yea, Carnage is thy daughter!
1837.
But thy most awful instrument
[124] 1837.
1816.
And by thy just permission . . .
[125] 1845.
. . . to Thee—
With fervent thoughts, but in a gentler strain
[126] The above six lines were added in 1837.
[127] 1845.
. . . to Thee—
On this appointed Day shall thanks ascend,
. . . Humanity,
On this appointed day shall thanks ascend,
[128] 1845.
1816.
. . . further . . .
[129] The last four lines were added in 1845, but another version of the last two lines was written by Wordsworth in MS. on his edition of 1837—
And all the nations labouring to fulfil
Thy law shall live henceforth in peace and brotherly goodwill.
FOOTNOTES:
[BC] Compare this description of the news of Waterloo spreading over the nations with the effect of the lady's laugh in To Joanna. See "Poems on the Naming of Places" (vol. ii. p. 159).—Ed.
[BD] See note A on preceding page.—Ed.
[BE] London.—Ed.
[BF] In Westminster Abbey.—Ed.
[BG] Compare the Psalter, civ. 32.—Ed.
[BH] Compare the Psalter, passim, e.g. xlvi., lxvi., cvi., and Shakespeare, Henry V. act IV. scene i.: "If these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God: war is his beadle, war is his vengeance."—Ed.
INVOCATION TO THE EARTH[BI]
FEBRUARY, 1816
Composed 1816.—Published 1816
[Composed immediately after the Thanksgiving Ode, to which it may be considered as a second part.—I. F.]
One of the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."—Ed.
I
"Rest, rest, perturbèd Earth![BJ]
O rest, thou doleful Mother of Mankind!"
A Spirit sang in tones more plaintive than the wind:
"From regions where no evil thing has birth
I come—thy stains to wash away,
Thy cherished fetters to unbind,
And open[130] thy sad eyes upon a milder day.
The Heavens are thronged with martyrs that have risen
From out thy noisome prison;
The penal caverns groan
With tens of thousands rent from off the tree
Of hopeful life,[BK]—by battle's whirlwind blown
Into the deserts of Eternity.
Unpitied havoc! Victims unlamented!
But not on high, where madness is resented,
And murder causes some sad tears to flow,
Though, from the widely-sweeping blow,
The choirs of Angels spread, triumphantly augmented.
II
"False Parent of Mankind!
Obdurate, proud, and blind,
I sprinkle thee with soft celestial dews,
Thy lost, maternal heart to re-infuse!
Scattering this far-fetched moisture from my wings,
Upon the act a blessing I implore,
Of which the rivers in their secret springs,
The rivers stained so oft with human gore,
Are conscious;—may the like return no more!
May Discord—for a Seraph's care
Shall be attended with a bolder prayer—
May she, who once disturbed the seats of bliss
These mortal spheres above,
Be chained for ever to the black abyss!
And thou, O rescued Earth, by peace and love,
And merciful desires, thy sanctity approve!"
35
The Spirit ended his mysterious rite,
And the pure vision closed in darkness infinite."
VARIANTS:
[130] 1837.
1816.
To open . . .
FOOTNOTES:
[BI] The title which this Invocation to the Earth bore when first published in the Thanksgiving Ode, with other short pieces chiefly referring to recent public events, in 1816, was "Elegiac Verses, February 1816."—Ed.
[BJ] Compare Hamlet, act I. scene V., l. 183—
Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! Ed.
[BK] "The loss of human life, on the French side alone, in the wars consequent on the Revolution, was estimated (in 1815) to have been 4,556,000." (Blair's Chronological Tables, p. 724.)—Ed.
ODE[BL]
Composed January 1816.—Published 1816
Carmina possumus
Donare, et pretium dicere muneri.
Non incisa notis marmora publicis,
Per quæ spiritus et vita redit bonis
Post mortem ducibus
clarius indicant
Laudes, quam——Pierides; neque,
Si chartæ sileant quod bene feceris,
Mercedem tuleris. Hor. Car. 8, lib. 4.[BM]
This was one of the "Poems of the Imagination," in 1820. In 1827 it was placed among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."—Ed.
I
When the soft hand of sleep had closed the latch
On the tired household of corporeal sense,
And Fancy, keeping unreluctant watch,
Was free her choicest favours to dispense;[131]
I saw, in wondrous pérspective displayed,
A landscape more august than happiest skill[132]
Of pencil ever clothed with light and shade;
An intermingled pomp of vale and hill,
City, and naval stream, suburban grove,[133]
And stately forest where the wild deer rove;
Nor wanted lurking hamlet, dusky towns,
And scattered rural farms of aspect bright;
And, here and there, between the pastoral downs,
The azure sea upswelled upon the sight.
Fair prospect, such as Britain only shows!
But not a living creature could be seen
Through its wide circuit, that, in deep repose,
And, even to sadness, lonely and serene,
Lay hushed; till—through a portal in the sky
Brighter than brightest loop-hole, in a storm,
Opening before the sun's triumphant eye—
Issued, to sudden view, a glorious Form![134]
Earthward it glided with a swift descent:
Saint George himself this Visitant must be;[135]
And, ere a thought could ask on what intent
He sought the regions of humanity,
A thrilling voice was heard, that vivified
City and field and flood;—aloud it cried—
"Though from my celestial home,
Like a Champion, armed I come;
On my helm the dragon crest,
And the red cross on my breast;
I, the Guardian of this Land,[136]
Speak not now of toilsome duty;
Well obeyed was that command—
Whence bright days of festive beauty;[137]
Haste, Virgins, haste!—the flowers which summer gave
Have perished in the field;
But the green thickets plenteously shall yield[138]
Fit garlands for the brave,
That will be welcome, if by you entwined;
Haste, Virgins, haste; and you, ye Matrons grave,
Go forth with rival youthfulness of mind,
And gather what ye find
Of hardy laurel and wild holly boughs—
To deck your stern Defenders' modest brows!
Such simple gifts prepare,
Though they have gained a worthier meed;
And in due time shall share
Those palms and amaranthine wreaths
Unto their martyred Countrymen decreed,
In realms where everlasting freshness breathes!"
II
And lo! with crimson banners proudly streaming,
And upright weapons innocently gleaming,
Along the surface of a spacious plain
Advance in order the redoubted Bands,
And there receive green chaplets from the hands
Of a fair female train—
Maids and Matrons, dight
In robes of dazzling white;[139]
While from the crowd bursts[140] forth a rapturous noise
By the cloud-capt hills retorted;
And a throng of rosy boys
In loose fashion tell their joys;[141]
And grey-haired sires, on staffs supported,
Look[142] round, and by their smiling seem[143] to say,
Thus strives a grateful Country to display
The mighty debt which nothing can repay!
III
Anon before my sight a palace rose
Built of all precious substances,—so pure
And exquisite, that sleep alone bestows
Ability like splendour to endure:
Entered, with streaming thousands, through the gate,
I saw the banquet spread beneath a Dome of state,
A lofty Dome, that dared to emulate
The heaven of sable night
With starry lustre; yet had power to throw
Solemn effulgence, clear as solar light,
Upon a princely company below,
While the vault rang with choral harmony,
Like some Nymph-haunted grot beneath the roaring sea,
—No sooner ceased that peal, than on the verge
Of exultation hung a dirge[144]
Breathed from a soft and lonely instrument,
That kindled recollections
Of agonised affections;[BN]
And, though some tears the strain attended,
The mournful passion ended
In peace of spirit, and sublime content!
IV
90
But garlands wither; festal shows depart,
Like dreams themselves; and sweetest sound—
(Albeit of effect profound)
It was—and it is gone!
Victorious England! bid the silent Art
Reflect, in glowing hues that shall not fade,
Those[145] high achievements;[BO] even as she arrayed
With second life the deed of Marathon
Upon Athenian walls;[BP]
So may she labour for thy civic halls:
And be the guardian spaces
Of consecrated places,
As nobly graced by Sculpture's patient toil;
And let imperishable Columns rise[146]
Fixed in the depths of this courageous soil;[BQ]
Expressive signals[147] of a glorious strife,
And competent to shed a spark divine
Into the torpid breast of daily life;—
Records on which, for pleasure of all eyes,
The morning sun may shine[148]
With gratulation thoroughly benign![BR]
V
And ye, Pierian Sisters,[BS] sprung from Jove
And sage Mnemosyne,—full long debarred[149]
From your first mansions, exiled all too long[150]
From many a hallowed stream and grove,[151]
Dear native regions[BT] where ye wont to rove,
Chanting for patriot heroes the reward
Of never-dying song!
Now (for, though Truth descending from above
The Olympian summit hath destroyed for aye
Your kindred Deities, Ye live and move,[BU]
Spared for obeisance from perpetual love
For privilege redeemed of god-like sway)
Now,[152] on the margin of some spotless fountain,
Or top serene of unmolested mountain,
Strike audibly the noblest of your lyres,
And for a moment meet the soul's desires![153]
That I, or some more favoured Bard, may hear
What ye, celestial Maids! have often sung
Of Britain's acts,—may catch it with rapt ear,
And give the treasure to our British tongue!
So shall the characters of that proud page
Support their mighty theme from age to age;
And, in the desert places of the earth,
When they to future empires have given birth,
So shall the people gather and believe
The bold report, transferred to every clime;
And the whole world, not envious but admiring,
And to the like aspiring,
Own—that the progeny of this fair Isle
Had power as lofty actions to achieve
As were performed in man's heroic prime;
Nor wanted, when their fortitude had held
Its even tenor, and the foe was quelled,
A corresponding virtue to beguile
The hostile purpose of wide-wasting Time—
That not in vain they laboured to secure,
For their great deeds, perpetual memory,
And fame as largely spread as land and sea,
By Works of spirit high and passion pure!
VARIANTS:
[131] 1827.
And Fancy in her airy bower kept watch,
Free to exert some kindly influence;
I saw—but little boots it that my verse
A shadowy visitation should rehearse,
For to our Shores such glory hath been brought,
That dreams no brighter are than waking thought—
1820.
Free to exert her kindliest influence;
[132] 1827.
1816.
A landscape richer than the happiest skill
[133] 1827.
1816.
Tower, town, and city—and suburban grove,
[134] 1832.
. . . wild deer rove;
And, in a clouded quarter of the sky,
Through such a portal as with chearful eye
The traveller greets in time of threatened storm,
Issued, to sudden view, a radiant Form!
Nor wanted lurking hamlet, dusky towns,
And scattered rural farms of aspect bright,
And, here and there, between the pastoral downs,
The azure sea upswelled upon the sight.
Fair prospect, such as Britain only shows!
But not a living creature could be seen
Through its wide circuit, hushed in deep repose,
Yea, even to sadness, quiet and serene!
Amid this solitude of earth and sky,
Through portal clear as loop-hole in a storm
Opening before the sun's triumphant eye,
Issued, to sudden view, a radiant form!
[135] 1845
1816.
. . . may be;
[136] 1827
A thrilling voice was heard, that vivified
My patriotic heart;—aloud it cried,
"I, the Guardian of this Land,
[137] 1837.
1816.
"Days are come of festive beauty;
1827.
Hence bright days of festive beauty;
[138] 1820.
1816.
. . . . . . will yield
[139] 1827.
1816.
. . . of purest white,—
[140] 1827.
1816.
. . . burst . . .
[141] 1827.
1816.
. . . told their joys,—
[142] 1827.
1816.
Looked . . .
[143] 1827.
1816.
. . . seemed . . .
[144] 1837.
Anon, I saw, beneath a dome of state,
The feast dealt forth with bounty unconfined;
And while the vaulted roof did emulate
The starry heavens through splendour of the show,
It rang with music,—and methought the wind
Scattered the tuneful largess far and near,
That they who asked not might partake the cheer,
Who listened not could hear,
Where'er the wild winds were allowed to blow!
—That work reposing, on the verge
Of busiest exultation hung a dirge,
1827.
. . . and had power to throw
The edition of 1827 is otherwise identical with that of 1837.
[145] 1837.
1816.
These . . .
[146] 1845.
Graced with such gifts as Sculpture can bestow,
When inspiration guides her patient toil;
And let imperishable trophies grow
As nobly graced by Sculpture's patient toil;
And let imperishable structures grow
[147] 1827.
1816.
. . . records . . .
[148] 1845.
Trophies on which the morning sun may shine,
As changeful ages flow,
Records on which the morning sun may shine,
As changeful ages flow,
[149] 1816.
c.
. . . Ye muses long debarred
[150] 1816.
. . . As mythic lore
For not unwise belief proclaimed of yore
[151] 1827.
1816.
. . . consecrated stream and grove,
[152] 1845.
. . . . . . and move,
And exercise unblamed a generous sway,)
Now, . . . . . .
1837.
And exercise unblamed a god-like sway)
[153] 1837.
1816.
. . . my soul's desires!
FOOTNOTES:
[BL] The title of this Ode, when first published along with the Thanksgiving Ode, was Ode, composed in January 1816. In 1845 the date 1814 was given; but there seems no reason to distrust the earlier one.—Ed.
[BM] These lines were first inserted in the edition of 1827.—Ed.
[BN] Compare Ode, Intimations of Immortality, etc., stanza ix.—
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections.
[BO] Haydon painted Wellington on the field of Waterloo. Compare the sonnet which Wordsworth wrote on that picture, in 1840, beginning—
Ed.
By Art's hold privilege Warrior and War-horse stand.
[BP] The allusion is to the picture of the battle of Marathon, on the walls of the Stoa Poecile, in Athens. Compare the Effusion, in presence of Tell's Tower, in the "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent" (1820), st. i. and note.—Ed.
[BQ] In many places throughout Britain this was carried out. Statues to the memory of Wellington were erected in many towns, and buildings were named after him.—Ed.
[BR] In many places throughout Britain this was carried out. Statues to the memory of Wellington were erected in many towns, and buildings were named after him.—Ed.
[BS] The nine Muses, called the Pierides, from Pieria, near Olympus, where they were said to have been born, or first worshipped by the Thracians.—Ed.
[BT] Compare the first line of the Extract from the conclusion of a poem, composed in anticipation of leaving school (vol. i. p. 2)—
. Ed.
Dear native regions, I foretell>
[BU] Compare Schiller's Piccolomini, in S. T. Coleridge's version (act II. scene 4)—
The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
The fair humanities of old religion,
The power, the beauty, and the majesty,
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
Or chasms and wat'ry depths; all these have vanished.
They live no longer in the faith of reason!
But still the heart doth need a language, still
Doth the old instinct bring back the old names,
And to yon starry world they now are gone,
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
With man as with their friend; and to the lover
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
Shoot influence down: and even at this day
'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
And Venus who brings everything that's fair!