ODE
Composed 1816.—Published 1816
Included in 1820 among the "Poems of the Imagination," afterwards placed among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."—Ed.
I
Who rises on the banks of Seine,
And binds her temples with the civic wreath?
What joy to read the promise of her mien!
How sweet to rest her wide-spread wings beneath!
But they are ever playing,
And twinkling in the light,
And, if a breeze be straying,
That breeze she will invite;
And stands on tiptoe, conscious she is fair,
And calls a look of love into her face,
And spreads her arms, as if the general air
Alone could satisfy her wide embrace.
—Melt, Principalities, before her melt!
Her love ye hailed—her wrath have felt!
But She through many a change of form hath gone,
And stands amidst you now an armèd creature,
Whose panoply is not a thing put on,
But the live scales of a portentous nature;
That, having forced[154] its way from birth to birth,
Stalks round-abhorred by Heaven, a terror to the Earth!
II
I marked the breathings of her dragon crest;
My Soul, a sorrowful interpreter,
In many a midnight vision bowed
Before the ominous aspect of her spear;[155]
Whether the mighty beam, in scorn upheld,
Threatened her foes,—or, pompously at rest,
Seemed to bisect her orbèd shield,
As stretches a blue bar of solid cloud[156]
Across the setting sun and all the fiery west.[157]
III
30
So did she daunt the Earth, and God defy!
And, wheresoe'er she spread her sovereignty,
Pollution tainted all that was most pure.
—Have we not known—and live we not to tell—
That Justice seemed to hear her final knell?
Faith buried deeper in her own deep breast
Her stores, and sighed to find them insecure!
And Hope was maddened by the drops that fell
From shades, her chosen place of short-lived rest.[158]
Shame followed shame, and woe supplanted woe—
Is this the only change that time can show?
How long shall vengeance sleep? Ye patient Heavens, how long?
—Infirm ejaculation! from the tongue
Of Nations wanting virtue to be strong
Up to the measure of accorded might,
And daring not to feel the majesty of right!
IV
Weak Spirits are there—who would ask,
Upon the pressure of a painful thing,
The lion's sinews, or the eagle's wing;
Or let their wishes loose, in forest-glade,
Among the lurking powers
Of herbs and lowly flowers,
Or seek, from saints above, miraculous aid—
That Man may be accomplished for a task
Which his own nature hath enjoined;—and why?
If, when that interference hath relieved him,
He must sink down to languish
In worse than former helplessness—and lie
Till the caves roar,—and, imbecility
Again engendering anguish,
The same weak wish returns, that had before deceived him.
V
But Thou, supreme Disposer! may'st[159] not speed
The course of things, and change the creed
Which hath been held aloft before men's sight
Since the first framing of societies,
Whether, as bards have told in ancient song,
Built up by soft seducing harmonies;
Or prest together by the appetite,
And by the power, of wrong.
The date of the composition of this Ode is uncertain. Wordsworth himself gives no clue: but it seems to refer to the rise of the French Republic, with its illusive promises of Liberty: the freedom of the many being sacrificed to the despotism of one. The Republic passed "through many a change of form." It became both tyrannous and aggressive. The "Principalities" of Europe "melted" before it. It stood forth "an armèd creature," and "a terror to the Earth." It in turn put down "Justice," "Faith," and "Hope" throughout Europe; and the writer of the Ode says,
How long shall vengeance sleep? Ye patient Heavens, how long?
The allusions in stanza iv. suggest that this Ode was written before Waterloo, and the final overthrow of the power of Napoleon, but it is difficult, if not impossible, to determine the point with exactness from internal evidence.
The reference in the last stanza may be to the legend of Amphion moving stones, and building up the walls of Thebes, by the sound of his lyre; the stones advancing to their places, and being fitted together, as he played his instrument. Compare Tennyson's Amphion.—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[154] 1845.
1816.
That, having wrought . . .
[155] 1827.
My soul in many a midnight vision bowed
Before the meanings which her spear expressed;
[156] 1827.
Seemed to bisect the orbit of her shield,
Like to a long blue bar of solid cloud
[157] 1845.
1816.
At evening stretched across the fiery West.
1827.
Across the setting sun, and through the fiery west.
1837.
Across the setting sun—and through all the fiery west.
[158] 1827.
. . . short-lived rest,
Which, when they first received her, she had blest:
[159] 1827.
1816.
. . . . . might'st . . .
THE FRENCH ARMY IN RUSSIA, 1812-13[160]
Composed 1816.—Published 1816
This was first published in 1816 in the "Miscellaneous Pieces, referring chiefly to recent public Events," in the volume entitled Thanksgiving Ode, January 18, 1816, with other short pieces, etc. In 1820 it was placed among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty, Part II."—Ed.
Humanity, delighting to behold
A fond reflection of her own decay,
Hath painted Winter like a traveller old,
Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen day,
In hooded mantle, limping o'er the plain,[161]
As though his weakness were disturbed by pain:
Or, if a juster fancy should allow
An undisputed symbol of command,
The chosen sceptre is a withered bough,
Infirmly grasped within a palsied hand.
These emblems suit the helpless and forlorn;
But mighty Winter the device shall scorn.
For he it was—dread Winter! who beset,
Flinging round van and rear his ghastly net,
That host, when from the regions of the Pole
They shrunk, insane ambition's barren goal—
That host, as huge and strong as e'er defied
Their God, and placed their trust in human pride!
As fathers persecute rebellious sons,
He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth;
He called on Frost's inexorable tooth
Life to consume in Manhood's firmest hold;
Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly runs;
For why—unless for liberty enrolled
And sacred home—ah! why should hoary Age be bold?
Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed,
But fleeter far the pinions of the Wind,
Which from Siberian caves the Monarch freed,
And sent him forth, with squadrons of his kind,
And bade the Snow their ample backs bestride,
And to the battle ride.
No pitying voice commands a halt,
No courage can repel the dire assault;
Distracted, spiritless, benumbed, and blind,
Whole legions sink—and, in one instant, find
Burial and death: look for them—and descry,
When morn returns, beneath the clear blue sky,
A soundless waste, a trackless vacancy!
The French "retreat from Moscow was perhaps the most disastrous on record since the days of Xerxes.... On the night of 6th November, the temperature suddenly fell to that of the most rigorous winter. In that dreadful night thousands of men perished, and nearly all the horses, which compelled the abandonment of the greater part of the convoys. From this point the road began to be strewn with corpses, presenting the aspect of one continuous battlefield.... At Smolensk the cold was at 20 degrees of Réaumur." (Dyer's History of Modern Europe, vol. iv. pp. 518, 519.)—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[160] 1827.
The original title was Composed in Recollection of the Expedition of the French into Russia.
1816. February 1816.
[161] 1820.
Hath painted Winter like a shrunken, old,
And close-wrapt Traveller—through the weary day—
Propped on a staff, and limping o'er the Plain,
ON THE SAME OCCASION[162]
Composed 1816.—Published 1816
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."—Ed.
Ye Storms, resound the praises of your King!
And ye mild Seasons—in a sunny clime,
Midway on some high hill, while father Time
Looks on delighted—meet in festal ring,
And loud and long of Winter's triumph sing!
Sing ye, with blossoms crowned, and fruits, and flowers,
Of Winter's breath surcharged with sleety showers,
And the dire flapping of his hoary wing!
Knit the blithe dance upon the soft green grass;
With feet, hands, eyes, looks, lips, report your gain;
Whisper it to the billows of the main,
And to the aërial zephyrs as they pass,
That old decrepit Winter—He hath slain
That Host, which rendered all your bounties vain!
VARIANTS:
[162] 1820.
The title in 1816 was
Sonnet on the same occasion. February 1816.
SIEGE OF VIENNA RAISED BY JOHN
SOBIESKI[BV]
February, 1816
Composed February 4, 1816.—Published 1816
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."—Ed.
O, for a kindling touch from that pure flame
Which ministered, erewhile, to a sacrifice
Of gratitude, beneath Italian skies,
In words like these: "Up, Voice of Song! proclaim
Thy saintly rapture with celestial aim:
For lo! the Imperial City stands released[163]
From bondage threatened by the embattled East,
And Christendom respires;[164] from guilt and shame
Redeemed, from miserable fear set free
By one day's feat, one mighty victory.
—Chant the Deliverer's praise in every tongue!
The cross shall spread, the crescent hath waxed dim;
He conquering, as in joyful Heaven is sung,[165]
He conquering through God, and God by him." [BW]
VARIANTS:
[BV] 1816.
The title at first was February 1816.—Ed.
[163] 1837.
. . . touch of that pure flame
Which taught the offering of song to rise
From thy lone bower, beneath Italian skies,
Great Filicaia!—With celestial aim
It rose,—thy saintly rapture to proclaim,
Then, when the imperial city stood released
[164] 1837.
1816.
. . . respired; . . .
[165] 1837.
1816.
. . . —as in Earth and Heaven was sung—
FOOTNOTES:
Ond' è ch' Io grido e griderò: giugnesti,
Guerregiasti, e vincesti;
Si, si, vincesti, o Campion forte e pio,
Per Dio vincesti, e per te vinse Iddio.
See Filicaia's Canzone, addressed to (Sir) John Sobieski, king of Poland, upon his raising the siege of Vienna. This, and his other poems on the same occasion, are superior perhaps to any lyrical pieces that contemporary events have ever given birth to, those of the Hebrew Scriptures only excepted.—W. W. (1816 and 1820.)
Vienna, besieged in 1683 by Mahomet IV., was relieved by John Sobieski. The following is Dyer's account of it in his Modern Europe (vol. iii. p. 109):—"At one time Vienna seemed beyond the reach of human aid. The Turks sat down before it on 14th July, and such were their numbers that their encampment is said to have contained more than 100,000 tents. It was the middle of August before John Sobieski could leave Cracow with 25,000 men, and by the end of that month the situation of Vienna had become extremely critical. Provisions and ammunition began to fail; the garrison had lost 6000 men, and numbers died every day by pestilence, or at the hands of the enemy. It was not till 9th September that Sobieski and his Poles formed a junction on the plain of Tuln with the Austrian forces under the Duke of Lorraine, and the other German contingents. On 11th September, the allies reached the heights of Kahlenberg, within sight of Vienna, and announced their arrival to the beleaguered citizens by means of rockets. On the following day the Turks were attacked, and, after a few hours' resistance, completely routed.... The Turkish camp, with vast treasures in money, jewels, horses, arms, and ammunition, became the spoil of the victors."
The Italian poet Filicaia referred to by Wordsworth (Filicaja, Vincenzo), wrote six odes on the deliverance of Vienna by Sobieski. They were published in Florence in the following year, 1684, and established the writer's fame. Queen Christina of Sweden was much struck by them; and, being a generous patroness and admirer of letters, she enabled Filicaja to devote himself to poetry exclusively as his life-work. He wrote numerous patriotic sonnets and heroic odes, in Italian and in Latin.—Ed.
OCCASIONED BY THE BATTLE
OF WATERLOO[166]
(The last six lines intended for an Inscription.)
February, 1816
Composed February 4, 1816.—Published 1816
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."—Ed.
Intrepid sons of Albion! not by you
Is life despised; ah no, the spacious earth
Ne'er saw a race who held, by right of birth,
So many objects to which love is due:
Ye slight not life—to God and Nature true;
But death, becoming death, is dearer far,
When duty bids you bleed in open war:
Hence hath your prowess quelled that impious crew.
Heroes!—for instant sacrifice prepared;
Yet filled with ardour and on triumph bent
'Mid direst shocks of mortal accident—
To you who fell, and you whom slaughter spared
To guard the fallen, and consummate the event,
Your Country rears this sacred Monument!
It need hardly be said that the intention of using the six last lines as an "Inscription" was never carried into effect. The infelicity of the second last line is fatal to its use on any "monument." The punctuation of the Sonnet as it appeared in The Champion, January 2, 1814, differs slightly from the above.—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[166] 1820.
1816.
The full title in 1816 was Inscription for a national monument in commemoration of the Battle of Waterloo.
OCCASIONED BY THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO[167]
February, 1816
Composed February 4, 1816.—Published 1816
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."—Ed.
The Bard—whose soul is meek as dawning day,
Yet trained to judgments righteously severe,
Fervid, yet conversànt with holy fear,
As recognising one Almighty sway:
He—whose experienced eye can pierce the array
Of past events; to whom, in vision clear,
The aspiring heads of future things appear,
Like mountain-tops whose[168] mists have rolled away—
Assoiled from all encumbrance of our time,[BX]
He only, if such breathe, in strains devout
Shall comprehend this victory sublime;
Shall[169] worthily rehearse the hideous rout,
The triumph hail, which from their peaceful clime
Angels might welcome with a choral shout![170]
VARIANTS:
[167] 1837.
1816.
The title in 1816 was Occasioned by the same battle, February 1816
[168] 1820.
1816.
Like mountain-tops whence . . .
[169] 1837.
1816.
And . . .
[170] 1837.
Which the blest Angels, from their peaceful clime
Beholding, welcomed with a choral shout.
FOOTNOTES:
[BX] "From all this world's encumbrance did himself assoil."—Spenser. W. W. 1816.
In a MS. copy of the sonnet, Wordsworth wrote it thus: "In the above is a line taken from Spenser—
And hanging up his arms and warlike spoil,
From all this world's encumbrance did himself assoil."