GOLD AND SILVER FISHES IN A VASE
Composed 1829.—Published 1835
[They were a present from Miss Jewsbury, of whom mention is made in the note at the end of the next poem. The fish were healthy to all appearance in their confinement for a long time, but at last, for some cause we could not make out, they languished, and, one of them being all but dead, they were taken to the pool under the old pollard-oak. The apparently dying one lay on its side unable to move. I used to watch it, and about the tenth day it began to right itself, and in a few days more was able to swim about with its companions. For many months they continued to prosper in their new place of abode; but one night by an unusually great flood they were swept out of the pool, and perished to our great regret.—I. F.]
One of the "Miscellaneous Poems."—Ed.
The soaring lark is blest as proud
When at heaven's gate she sings;[597]
The roving bee proclaims aloud
Her flight by vocal wings;
While Ye, in lasting durance pent, 5
Your silent lives employ
For something more than dull content,
Though haply less than joy.[598]
Yet might your glassy prison seem
A place where joy is known, 10
Where golden flash and silver gleam
Have meanings of their own;
While, high and low, and all about,
Your motions, glittering Elves!
Ye weave—no danger from without, 15
And peace among yourselves.
Type of a sunny human breast
Is your transparent cell;
Where Fear is but a transient guest,
No sullen Humours dwell; 20
Where, sensitive of every ray
That smites this tiny sea,
Your scaly panoplies repay
The loan with usury.
How beautiful!—Yet none knows why 25
This ever-graceful change,
Renewed—renewed incessantly—
Within your quiet range.
Is it that ye with conscious skill
For mutual pleasure glide; 30
And sometimes, not without your will,
Are dwarfed, or magnified?
Fays, Genii of gigantic size!
And now, in twilight dim,
Clustering like constellated eyes, 35
In wings of Cherubim,
When the fierce orbs abate their glare;—[599]
Whate'er your forms express,
Whate'er ye seem, whate'er ye are—
All leads to gentleness. 40
Cold though your nature be, 'tis pure;
Your birthright is a fence
From all that haughtier kinds endure
Through tyranny of sense.
Ah! not alone by colours bright 45
Are Ye to heaven allied,
When, like essential Forms of light,
Ye mingle, or divide.
For day-dreams soft as e'er beguiled
Day-thoughts while limbs repose; 50
For moonlight fascinations mild,
Your gift, ere shutters close—
Accept, mute Captives! thanks and praise;
And may this tribute prove
That gentle admirations raise 55
Delight resembling love.
FOOTNOTES:
[597] Compare Cymbeline, act II. scene iii. l. 21.—Ed.
[598] See note [448] to p. [160].—Ed.
[599] 1837.
When they abate their fiery glare: 1835.
LIBERTY
(SEQUEL TO THE ABOVE)[600]
[ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND; THE GOLD AND SILVER FISHES HAVING BEEN REMOVED TO A POOL IN THE PLEASURE-GROUND OF RYDAL MOUNT.]
Composed 1829.—Published 1835
"The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made for themselves, under whatever form it be of government. The liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country. Of this latter we are here to discourse."—Cowley.
One of the "Miscellaneous Poems."—Ed.
Those breathing Tokens of your kind regard,
(Suspect not, Anna,[601] that their fate is hard;
Not soon does aught to which mild fancies cling
In lonely spots, become a slighted thing;)
Those silent Inmates now no longer share, 5
Nor do they need, our hospitable care,
Removed in kindness from their glassy Cell
To the fresh waters of a living Well—[602]
An elfin pool so sheltered that its rest
No winds disturb;[603] the mirror of whose breast 10
Is smooth as clear, save where with dimples small[604]
A fly may settle, or a blossom fall.[605]
—There swims, of blazing sun and beating shower
Fearless (but how obscured!) the golden Power,
That from his bauble prison used to cast 15
Gleams by the richest jewel unsurpast;
And near him, darkling like a sullen Gnome,
The silver Tenant of the crystal dome;
Dissevered both from all the mysteries
Of hue and altering shape that charmed all eyes. 20
Alas! they pined,[606] they languished while they shone;
And, if not so, what matters beauty gone
And admiration lost, by change of place
That brings to the inward creature no disgrace?
But if the change restore his birth-right, then, 25
Whate'er the difference, boundless is the gain.
Who can divine what impulses from God
Reach the caged lark, within a town-abode,
From his poor inch or two of daisied sod?
O yield him back his privilege!—No sea 30
Swells like the bosom of a man set free;
A wilderness is rich with liberty.
Roll on, ye spouting whales, who die or keep
Your independence in the fathomless Deep!
Spread, tiny nautilus, the living sail; 35
Dive, at thy choice, or brave the freshening gale!
If unreproved the ambitious eagle mount
Sunward to seek the daylight in its fount,[607]
Bays, gulfs, and ocean's Indian width, shall be,
Till the world perishes, a field for thee! 40
While musing here I sit in shadow cool,
And watch these mute Companions, in the pool,
(Among reflected boughs of leafy trees)
By glimpses caught—disporting at their ease,
Enlivened, braced, by hardy luxuries, 45
I ask what warrant fixed them (like a spell
Of witchcraft fixed them) in the crystal cell;
To wheel with languid motion round and round,
Beautiful, yet in mournful durance bound.
Their peace, perhaps, our lightest footfall marred; 50
On their quick sense our sweetest music jarred;
And whither could they dart, if seized with fear?
No sheltering stone, no tangled root was near.
When fire or taper ceased to cheer the room,
They wore away the night in starless gloom; 55
And, when the sun first dawned upon the streams,
How faint their portion of his vital beams!
Thus, and unable to complain, they fared,
While not one joy of ours by them was shared.
Is there a cherished bird (I venture now 60
To snatch a sprig from Chaucer's reverend brow)—[608]
Is there a brilliant fondling of the cage,
Though sure of plaudits on his costly stage,
Though fed with dainties from the snow-white hand
Of a kind mistress, fairest of the land, 65
But gladly would escape; and, if need were,
Scatter the colours from the plumes that bear
The emancipated captive through blithe air
Into strange woods, where he at large may live
On best or worst which they and Nature give? 70
The beetle loves his unpretending track,
The snail the house he carries on his back;
The far-fetched worm with pleasure would disown
The bed we give him, though of softest down;
A noble instinct; in all kinds the same, 75
All ranks! What Sovereign, worthy of the name,
If doomed to breathe against his lawful will
An element that flatters him—to kill,
But would rejoice to barter outward show
For the least boon that freedom can bestow? 80
But most the Bard is true to inborn right,
Lark of the dawn, and Philomel of night,
Exults in freedom, can with rapture vouch
For the dear blessings of a lowly couch, 84
A natural meal—days, months, from Nature's hand;
Time, place, and business, all at his command!—
Who bends to happier duties, who more wise
Than the industrious Poet, taught to prize,
Above all grandeur, a pure life uncrossed
By cares in which simplicity is lost? 90
That life—the flowery path that[609] winds by stealth—
Which Horace needed for his spirit's health;[610]
Sighed for, in heart and genius, overcome
By noise and strife, and questions wearisome,
And the vain splendours of Imperial Rome?—[611] 95
Let easy mirth his social hours inspire,
And fiction animate his sportive lyre,
Attuned to verse that, crowning light Distress
With garlands, cheats her into happiness;
Give me the humblest note of those sad strains 100
Drawn forth by pressure of his gilded chains,
As a chance-sunbeam from his memory fell
Upon the Sabine farm he loved so well;[612]
Or when the prattle of Blandusia's spring[613]
Haunted his ear—he only listening— 105
He proud to please, above all rivals, fit
To win the palm of gaiety and wit;
He, doubt not, with involuntary dread,
Shrinking from each new favour to be shed,
By the world's Ruler, on his honoured head! 110
In a deep vision's intellectual scene,
Such earnest longings and regrets as keen
Depressed the melancholy Cowley, laid
Under a fancied yew-tree's luckless shade;
A doleful bower for penitential song, 115
Where Man and Muse complained of mutual wrong;
While Cam's ideal current glided by,
And antique towers nodded their foreheads high,
Citadels dear to studious privacy.
But Fortune, who had long been used to sport 120
With this tried Servant of a thankless Court,
Relenting met his wishes; and to you
The remnant of his days at least was true;
You, whom, though long deserted, he loved best;
You, Muses, books, fields, liberty, and rest![614] 125
Far[615] happier they who, fixing hope and aim
On the humanities of peaceful fame,
Enter betimes with more than martial fire
The generous course, aspire, and still aspire;
Upheld by warnings heeded not too late 130
Stifle the contradictions of their fate,
And to one purpose cleave, their Being's godlike mate!
Thus, gifted Friend, but with the placid brow
That woman ne'er should forfeit, keep thy vow;
With modest scorn reject whate'er would blind 135
The ethereal eyesight, cramp the wingèd mind!
Then, with a blessing granted from above
To every act, word, thought, and look of love,
Life's book for Thee may lie unclosed, till age
Shall with a thankful tear bedrop its latest page.[616] 140
FOOTNOTES:
[600] 1835.
Sequel to the preceding 1837.
The text of 1857 returns to that of 1835.
[601] See the Sonnet (p. [168]) beginning—
While Anna's peers and early playmates tread.
Ed.
[602] See The Faërie Queene, book i. canto 2, stanza 43—
Till we be bathed in a living well.
Ed.
[603] This "elfin pool," to which the gold and silver fishes were removed, still exists beneath the pollard oak tree in "Dora's Field," at Rydal Mount. The field is now the property of Mr. Gordon Wordsworth.—Ed.
[604] 1845.
... Well;
That spreads into an elfin pool opaque
Of which close boughs a glimmering mirror make,
On whose smooth breast with dimples light and small 1835.
[605] 1845.
The fly may settle, leaf or blossom fall. 1835.
The fly may settle, or the blossom fall. 1837.
[606] 1845.
They pined, perhaps, ... 1835.
[607] See the reference to the Eagle in The Power of Sound (p. [212]), and in the "Poems composed or suggested during a Tour in the Summer of 1833," The Dunolly Eagle.—Ed.
[608] See, in "The Canterbury Tales," The Squire's Tale, ll. 598-611.—Ed.
[609] 1837.
... which ... 1835.
[610] These last five lines are amongst the best instances of Wordsworth's appreciation of one of his great predecessors. Compare the second of the two poems September 1819.—Ed.
[611] "The Sabine farm was situated in the valley of Ustica, thirty miles from Rome and twelve miles from Tivoli. It possessed the attraction, no small one to Horace, of being very secluded: yet, at the same time, within an easy distance of Rome. When his spirits wanted the stimulus of society or the bustle of the capital, which they often did, his ambling mule would speedily convey him thither; and when jaded, on the other hand, by the noise and racket and dissipations of Rome, he could, in the same homely way, bury himself in a few hours among the hills, and there, under the shadow of his favourite Lucretilis, or by the banks of the clear-flowing and ice-cold Digentia, either stretch himself to dream upon the grass, lulled by the murmurs of the stream, or do a little farming in the way of clearing his fields of stones, or turning over a furrow here and there with the hoe." (See Sir Theodore Martin's Horace, p. 68.)—Ed.
[612] See Horace, Odes, II. 18—
Satis beatus unicis Sabinis.
With what I have completely blest,
My happy little Sabine nest.—Ed.
[613] See Odes, III. 13.—Ed.
[614] Abraham Cowley (born 1618), educated at Westminster and Trinity College, Cambridge, a Royalist, and therefore expelled from Cambridge, settled in St. John's College, Oxford, crossed over with the Queen Mother to France for twelve years, returned at the Restoration, but was neglected at Court, and retired to a farm at Chertsey, on the Thames, where he lived for some years, "the melancholy Cowley."—Ed.
[615] 1837.
But ... 1835.
[616] There is now, alas! no possibility of the anticipation, with which the above Epistle concludes, being realised: nor were the verses ever seen by the Individual for whom they were intended. She accompanied her husband, the Rev. Wm. Fletcher, to India, and died of cholera, at the age of thirty-two or thirty-three years, on her way from Shalapore to Bombay, deeply lamented by all who knew her.
Her enthusiasm was ardent, her piety steadfast; and her great talents would have enabled her to be eminently useful in the difficult path of life to which she had been called. The opinion she entertained of her own performances, given to the world under her maiden name, Jewsbury, was modest and humble, and, indeed, far below their merits; as is often the case with those who are making trial of their powers, with a hope to discover what they are best fitted for. In one quality, viz., quickness in the motions of her mind, she had,[617] within the range of the Author's acquaintance, no equal.—W. W. 1835.
[617] 1837.
She was in the author's estimation unequalled.—W. W. 1835.
HUMANITY[618]
Composed 1829.—Published 1835
Not from his fellows only man may learn
Rights to compare and duties to discern:
All creatures and all objects, in degree,
Are friends and patrons of humanity.—MS. 1835.
The Rocking-stones, alluded to in the beginning of the following verses, are supposed to have been used, by our British ancestors, both for judicial and religious purposes. Such stones are not uncommonly found, at this day, both in Great Britain and in Ireland.—W. W. 1835.
[These verses and those entitled "Liberty" were composed as one piece, which Mrs. Wordsworth complained of as unwieldy and ill-proportioned; and accordingly it was divided into two, on her judicious recommendation.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."—Ed.
What though the Accused, upon his own appeal
To righteous Gods when man has ceased to feel,
Or at a doubting Judge's stern command,
Before the Stone of Power no longer stand—
To take his sentence from the balanced Block, 5
As, at his touch, it rocks, or seems to rock;[619]
Though, in the depths of sunless groves, no more
The Druid-priest the hallowed Oak adore;
Yet, for the Initiate, rocks and whispering trees
Do still perform mysterious offices! 10
And functions dwell in beast and bird that sway
The reasoning mind, or with the fancy play,
Inviting, at all seasons, ears and eyes
To watch for undelusive auguries:—[620]
Not uninspired appear their simplest ways; 15
Their voices mount symbolical of praise—
To mix with hymns that Spirits make and hear;
And to fallen man their innocence is dear.
Enraptured Art draws from those sacred springs
Streams that reflect the poetry of things! 20
Where christian Martyrs stand in hues portrayed,
That, might a wish avail, would never fade,
Borne in their hands the lily and the palm
Shed round the altar a celestial calm;
There, too, behold the lamb and guileless dove 25
Prest in the tenderness of virgin love
To saintly bosoms!—Glorious in the blending
Of right affections climbing or descending
Along a scale of light and life, with cares
Alternate; carrying holy thoughts and prayers 30
Up to the sovereign seat of the Most High;
Descending to the worm in charity;[621]
Like those good Angels whom a dream of night
Gave, in the field of Luz, to Jacob's sight[622]
All, while he slept, treading the pendent stairs 35
Earthward or heavenward, radiant messengers,
That, with a perfect will in one accord
Of strict obedience, serve[623] the Almighty Lord;
And with untired humility forbore
To speed their errand by[624] the wings they wore. 40
What a fair world were ours for verse to paint,
If Power could live at ease with self-restraint!
Opinion bow before the naked sense
Of the great Vision,—faith in Providence;
Merciful over all his creatures, just[625] 45
To the least particle of sentient dust;[626]
But,[627] fixing by immutable decrees,
Seedtime and harvest for his purposes!
Then would be closed the restless oblique eye
That looks for evil like a treacherous spy; 50
Disputes would then relax, like stormy winds
That into breezes sink; impetuous minds
By discipline endeavour to grow meek
As Truth herself, whom they profess to seek.
Then Genius, shunning fellowship with Pride, 55
Would braid his golden locks at Wisdom's side;
Love ebb and flow untroubled by caprice;
And not alone harsh tyranny would cease,
But unoffending creatures find release
From qualified oppression, whose defence 60
Rests on a hollow plea of recompense;
Thought-tempered wrongs, for each humane respect
Oft worse to bear, or deadlier in effect.
Witness those glances of indignant scorn
From some high-minded Slave, impelled to spurn 65
The kindness that would make him less forlorn;
Or, if the soul to bondage be subdued,
His look of pitiable gratitude!
Alas for thee, bright Galaxy of Isles,
Whose[628] day departs in pomp, returns with smiles—
To greet the flowers and fruitage of a land, 71
As the sun mounts, by sea-born breezes fanned;
A land whose azure mountain-tops are seats
For Gods in council, whose green vales, retreats
Fit for the shades of heroes, mingling there 75
To breathe Elysian peace in upper air.
Though cold as winter, gloomy as the grave,
Stone-walls a prisoner make, but not a slave.[629]
Shall man assume a property in man?
Lay on the moral will a withering ban? 80
Shame that our laws at distance still protect[630]
Enormities, which they at home reject!
"Slaves cannot breathe in England"[631]—yet that boast
Is but a mockery! when[632] from coast to coast,
Though fettered slave be none, her floors and soil 85
Groan underneath a weight of slavish toil,
For the poor Many, measured out by rules
Fetched with cupidity from heartless schools,
That to an Idol, falsely called[633] "the Wealth
Of Nations,"[634] sacrifice a People's health, 90
Body and mind and soul; a thirst so keen[635]
Is ever urging on the vast machine
Of sleepless Labour, 'mid whose dizzy wheels
The Power least prized is that which thinks and feels.
Then, for the pastimes of this delicate age, 95
And all the heavy or light vassalage
Which for their sakes we fasten, as may suit
Our varying moods, on human kind or brute,
'Twere well in little, as in great, to pause,
Lest Fancy trifle with eternal laws. 100
Not from his fellows only man may learn
Rights to compare and duties to discern!
All creatures and all objects, in degree,
Are friends and patrons of humanity.
There are to whom the[636] garden, grove, and field, 105
Perpetual lessons of forbearance yield;
Who would not lightly violate the grace
The lowliest flower possesses in its place;
Nor shorten the sweet life, too fugitive, 109
Which nothing less than Infinite Power could give.[637]
FOOTNOTES:
[618] 1837.
HUMANITY.
(Written in the Year 1829.) 1835.
[619] There are several, so-called, "rocking-stones" in Yorkshire and Lancashire, in Derbyshire, in Cornwall, and in Wales. There are one or two in Scotland, and there used to be several in the Lake District. Some are natural; others artificial.—Ed.
[620] 1837.
... offices!
And still in beast and bird a function dwells,
That, while we look and listen, sometimes tells
Upon the heart, in more authentic guise
Than Oracles, or winged Auguries,
Spake to the Science of the ancient wise. 1835.
[621] The author is indebted, here, to a passage in one of Mr. Digby's valuable works.—W. W. 1835.
See his Of Bodies, and of man's Soul.—Ed.
[622] Genesis xxviii. 12.—Ed.
[623] 1845.
... served ... 1835.
[624] 1837.
The ready service of ... 1835.
[625] 1840.
Merciful over all existence, just 1835.
[626] 1837.
Compassionate to all that suffer, just
In the end to every creature born of dust. C.
[627] 1840.
And, ... 1835.
[628] 1837.
Where ... 1835.
[629] Compare Richard Lovelace, To Althea, from Prison—
Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage.
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for a hermitage.—Ed.
[630] 1837.
... should protect 1835.
[631] Compare Cowper's Task, book ii. l. 40.—Ed.
[632] 1837.
...—a proud boast!
And yet a mockery! if, ... 1835.
That to a monstrous idol, called ... C.
[634] Compare The Prelude, book xiii. ll. 77, 78—
... that idol proudly named
"The Wealth of Nations."—Ed.
The weal of body and soul; so keen a thirst C.
The weal of body, mind, and soul; so keen
A thirst urging ... C.
[636] 1837.
... eternal laws.
There are to whom even ... 1835.
[637] Compare the closing lines of the Ode, Intimations of Immortality—
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.—Ed.