Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!
“The Lost Leader” is supposed to be the poet Wordsworth, who, on accepting the laureateship, abandoned the party of distinguished literary men who had enthusiastically supported the principles of the French Revolution. It is necessary, of course, to enter into the lofty enthusiasm of that party, and for the moment to identify ourselves with it, in order to appreciate the wonderful power and pathos of this exquisite poem. (See Wordsworth’s “French Revolution as it appeared to enthusiasts at its commencement.”)
The contrasts are very powerful between the one (paltry) gift he gained, and all the others (love, loyalty, life, &c.) they were privileged to devote (far richer than mere possession); and again, between the niggardliness of his new patrons with their dole of silver, contrasted with the enthusiastic devotion of his own followers, who having nothing but “copper,” would yet put it all at his service—having nothing but “rags,” were yet so liberal with what they had, that had they been purple, he would have been proud indeed, seeing that “a riband to stick in his coat” had proved so great an attraction.
In the second stanza the fountains of the great deep of human feeling are broken up. “Life’s night begins” suggests at once the strength of the previous attachment, and the hopelessness of the broken tie being ever knit again on earth. The best thing is to be counted enemies now, and fight against each other as gallantly as they would have fought together. At the same time there is absolute confidence in the ultimate triumph of the party of freedom—he may “menace our hearts,” but we shall “master his”—and in the ultimate recovery of the lost leader himself, whom he hopes to find “pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne.”
LOVE AMONG THE RUINS.
I.
Where the quiet coloured end of evening smiles,
Miles and miles,
On the solitary pastures where our sheep