Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

by William Wordsworth

That paves the brooks, the stationary rocks,

  The moving waters, and the invisible air.

  Whate’er exists hath properties that spread 10

  Beyond itself, communicating good

  A simple blessing, or with evil mixed;

  Spirit that knows no insulated spot,

  No chasm, no solitude; from link to link

  It circulates, the Soul of all the worlds.

  This is the freedom of the universe;

  Unfolded still the more, more visible,

  The more we know; and yet is reverenced least,

  And least respected in the human Mind,

  Its most apparent home. The food of hope 20

  Is meditated action; robbed of this

  Her sole support, she languishes and dies.

  We perish also; for we live by hope

  And by desire; we see by the glad light

  And breathe the sweet air of futurity;

  And so we live, or else we have no life.

  To-morrow—nay perchance this very hour

  (For every moment hath its own to-morrow!)

  Those blooming Boys, whose hearts are almost sick

  With present triumph, will be sure to find 30

  A field before them freshened with the dew

  Of other expectations;—in which course

  Their happy year spins round. The youth obeys

  A like glad impulse; and so moves the man

  ‘Mid all his apprehensions, cares, and fears,—

  Or so he ought to move. Ah! why in age

  Do we revert so fondly to the walks

  Of childhood—but that there the Soul discerns

  The dear memorial footsteps unimpaired

  Of her own native vigour; thence can hear 40

  Reverberations; and a choral song,

  Commingling with the incense that ascends,

  Undaunted, toward the imperishable heavens,

  From her own lonely altar?

  Do not think

  That good and wise ever will be allowed,

  Though strength decay, to breathe in such estate

  As shall divide them wholly from the stir

  Of hopeful nature. Rightly is it said

  That Man descends into the VALE of years;

  Yet have I thought that we might also speak, 50

  And not presumptuously, I trust, of Age,

  As of a final EMINENCE; though bare

  In aspect and forbidding, yet a point

  On which ‘tis not impossible to sit

  In awful sovereignty; a place of power,

  A throne, that may be likened unto his,

  Who, in some placid day of summer, looks

  Down from a mountain-top,—say one of those

  High peaks, that bound the vale where now we are.

  Faint, and diminished to the gazing eye, 60

  Forest and field, and hill and dale appear,

  With all the shapes over their surface spread:

  But, while the gross and visible frame of things

  Relinquishes its hold upon the sense,

  Yea almost on the Mind herself, and seems

  All unsubstantialized,—how loud the voice

  Of waters, with invigorated peal

  From the full river in the vale below,

  Ascending! For on that superior height

  Who sits, is disencumbered from the press 70

  Of near obstructions, and is privileged

  To breathe in solitude, above the host

  Of ever-humming insects, ‘mid thin air

  That suits not them. The murmur of the leaves

  Many and idle, visits not his ear:

  This he is freed from, and from thousand notes

  (Not less unceasing, not less vain than these,)

  By which the finer passages of sense

  Are occupied; and the Soul, that would incline

  To listen, is prevented or deterred. 80

  And may it not be hoped, that, placed by age

  In like removal, tranquil though severe,

  We are not so removed for utter loss;

  But for some favour, suited to our need?

  What more than that the severing should confer

  Fresh power to commune with the invisible world,

  And hear the mighty stream of tendency

  Uttering, for elevation of our thought,

  A clear sonorous voice, inaudible

  To the vast multitude; whose doom it is 90

  To run the giddy round of vain delight,

  Or fret and labour on the Plain below.

  But, if to such sublime ascent the hopes

  Of Man may rise, as to a welcome close

  And termination of his mortal course;

  Them only can such hope inspire whose minds

  Have not been starved by absolute neglect;

  Nor bodies crushed by unremitting toil;

  To whom kind Nature, therefore, may afford

  Proof of the sacred love she bears for all; 100

  Whose birthright Reason, therefore, may ensure.

  For me, consulting what I feel within

  In times when most existence with herself

  Is satisfied, I cannot but believe,

  That, far as kindly Nature hath free scope

  And Reason’s sway predominates; even so far,

  Country, society, and time itself,

  That saps the individual’s bodily frame,

  And lays the generations low in dust,

  Do, by the almighty Ruler’s grace, partake 110

  Of one maternal spirit, bringing forth

  And cherishing with ever-constant love,

  That tires not, nor betrays. Our life is turned

  Out of her course, wherever man is made

  An offering, or a sacrifice, a tool

  Or implement, a passive thing employed

  As a brute mean, without acknowledgment

  Of common right or interest in the end;

  Used or abused, as selfishness may prompt.

  Say, what can follow for a rational soul 120

  Perverted thus, but weakness in all good,

  And strength in evil? Hence an after-call

  For chastisement, and custody, and bonds,

  And oft-times Death, avenger of the past,

  And the sole guardian in whose hands we dare

  Entrust the future.—Not for these sad issues

  Was Man created; but to obey the law

  Of life, and hope, and action. And ‘tis known

  That when we stand upon our native soil,

  Unelbowed by such objects as oppress 130

  Our active powers, those powers themselves become

  Strong to subvert our noxious qualities:

  They sweep distemper from the busy day,

  And make the chalice of the big round year

  Run o’er with gladness; whence the Being moves

  In beauty through the world; and all who see

  Bless him, rejoicing in his neighbourhood.”

  “Then,” said the Solitary, “by what force

  Of language shall a feeling heart express

  Her sorrow for that multitude in whom 140

  We look for health from seeds that have been sown

  In sickness, and for increase in a power

  That works but by extinction? On themselves

  They cannot lean, nor turn to their own hearts

  To know what they must do; their wisdom is

  To look into the eyes of others, thence

  To be instructed what they must avoid:

  Or rather, let us say, how least observed,

  How with most quiet and most silent death,

  With the least taint and injury to the air 150

  The oppressor breathes, their human form divine,

  And their immortal soul, may waste away.”

  The Sage rejoined, “I thank you—you have spared

  My voice the utterance of a keen re
gret,

  A wide compassion which with you I share.

  When, heretofore, I placed before your sight

  A Little-one, subjected to the arts

  Of modern ingenuity, and made

  The senseless member of a vast machine,

  Serving as doth a spindle or a wheel; 160

  Think not, that, pitying him, I could forget

  The rustic Boy, who walks the fields, untaught;

  The slave of ignorance, and oft of want,

  And miserable hunger. Much, too much,

  Of this unhappy lot, in early youth

  We both have witnessed, lot which I myself

  Shared, though in mild and merciful degree:

  Yet was the mind to hindrances exposed,

  Through which I struggled, not without distress

  And sometimes injury, like a lamb enthralled 170

  ‘Mid thorns and brambles; or a bird that breaks

  Through a strong net, and mounts upon the wind,

  Though with her plumes impaired. If they, whose souls

  Should open while they range the richer fields

  Of merry England, are obstructed less

  By indigence, their ignorance is not less,

  Nor less to be deplored. For who can doubt

  That tens of thousands at this day exist

  Such as the boy you painted, lineal heirs

  Of those who once were vassals of her soil, 180

  Following its fortunes like the beasts or trees

  Which it sustained. But no one takes delight

  In this oppression; none are proud of it;

  It bears no sounding name, nor ever bore;

  A standing grievance, an indigenous vice

  Of every country under heaven. My thoughts

  Were turned to evils that are new and chosen,

  A bondage lurking under shape of good,—

  Arts, in themselves beneficent and kind,

  But all too fondly followed and too far;— 190

  To victims, which the merciful can see

  Nor think that they are victims—turned to wrongs,

  By women, who have children of their own,

  Beheld without compassion, yea with praise!

  I spake of mischief by the wise diffused

  With gladness, thinking that the more it spreads

  The healthier, the securer, we become;

  Delusion which a moment may destroy!

  Lastly, I mourned for those whom I had seen

  Corrupted and cast down, on favoured ground, 200

  Where circumstance and nature had combined

  To shelter innocence, and cherish love;

  Who, but for this intrusion, would have lived,

  Possessed of health, and strength, and peace of mind;

  Thus would have lived, or never have been born.

  Alas! what differs more than man from man!

  And whence that difference? whence but from himself?

  For see the universal Race endowed

  With the same upright form!—The sun is fixed,

  And the infinite magnificence of heaven 210

  Fixed, within reach of every human eye;

  The sleepless ocean murmurs for all ears;

  The vernal field infuses fresh delight

  Into all hearts. Throughout the world of sense,

  Even as an object is sublime or fair,

  That object is laid open to the view

  Without reserve or veil; and as a power

  Is salutary, or an influence sweet,

  Are each and all enabled to perceive

  That power, that influence, by impartial law. 220

  Gifts nobler are vouchsafed alike to all;

  Reason, and, with that reason, smiles and tears;

  Imagination, freedom in the will;

  Conscience to guide and check; and death to be

  Foretasted, immortality conceived

  By all,—a blissful immortality,

  To them whose holiness on earth shall make

  The Spirit capable of heaven, assured.

  Strange, then, nor less than monstrous, might be deemed

  The failure, if the Almighty, to this point 230

  Liberal and undistinguishing, should hide

  The excellence of moral qualities

  From common understanding; leaving truth

  And virtue, difficult, abstruse, and dark;

  Hard to be won, and only by a few;

  Strange, should He deal herein with nice respects,

  And frustrate all the rest! Believe it not:

  The primal duties shine aloft—like stars;

  The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless,

  Are scattered at the feet of Man—like flowers. 240

  The generous inclination, the just rule,

  Kind wishes, and good actions, and pure thoughts—

  No mystery is here! Here is no boon

  For high—yet not for low; for proudly graced—

  Yet not for meek of heart. The smoke ascends

  To heaven as lightly from the cottage hearth

  As from the haughtiest palace. He, whose soul

  Ponders this true equality, may walk

  The fields of earth with gratitude and hope;

  Yet, in that meditation, will he find 250

  Motive to sadder grief, as we have found;

  Lamenting ancient virtues overthrown,

  And for the injustice grieving, that hath made

  So wide a difference between man and man.

  Then let us rather fix our gladdened thoughts

  Upon the brighter scene. How blest that pair

  Of blooming Boys (whom we beheld even now)

  Blest in their several and their common lot!

  A few short hours of each returning day

  The thriving prisoners of their village school: 260

  And thence let loose, to seek their pleasant homes

  Or range the grassy lawn in vacancy:

  To breathe and to he happy, run and shout

  Idle,—but no delay, no harm, no loss;

  For every genial power of heaven and earth,

  Through all the seasons of the changeful year,

  Obsequiously doth take upon herself

  To labour for them; bringing each in turn

  The tribute of enjoyment, knowledge, health,

  Beauty, or strength! Such privilege is theirs, 270

  Granted alike in the outset of their course

  To both; and, if that partnership must cease,

  I grieve not,” to the Pastor here he turned,

  “Much as I glory in that child of yours,

  Repine not for his cottage-comrade, whom

  Belike no higher destiny awaits

  Than the old hereditary wish fulfilled;

  The wish for liberty to live—content

  With what Heaven grants, and die—in peace of mind,

  Within the bosom of his native vale. 280

  At least, whatever fate the noon of life

  Reserves for either, sure it is that both

  Have been permitted to enjoy the dawn;

  Whether regarded as a jocund time,

  That in itself may terminate, or lead

  In course of nature to a sober eve.

  Both have been fairly dealt with; looking back

  They will allow that justice has in them

  Been shown, alike to body and to mind.”

  He paused, as if revolving in his soul 290

  Some weighty matter; then, with fervent voice

  And an impassioned majesty, exclaimed—

  “O for the coming of that glorious time

  When, prizing knowledge as her noblest wealth

  And best protection, this imperial Realm,

  While she exacts allegiance, shall admit

  An obligation, on her part, to ‘teach’

  Them who are born to serve her and obey;

  Binding herself by statute to secur
e

  For all the children whom her soil maintains 300

  The rudiments of letters, and inform

  The mind with moral and religious truth,

  Both understood and practised,—so that none,

  However destitute, be left to droop

  By timely culture unsustained; or run

  Into a wild disorder; or be forced

  To drudge through a weary life without the help

  Of intellectual implements and tools;

  A savage horde among the civilised,

  A servile band among the lordly free! 310

  This sacred right, the lisping babe proclaims

  To be inherent in him, by Heaven’s will,

  For the protection of his innocence;

  And the rude boy—who, having overpast

  The sinless age, by conscience is enrolled,

  Yet mutinously knits his angry brow,

  And lifts his wilful hand on mischief bent,

  Or turns the godlike faculty of speech

  To impious use—by process indirect

  Declares his due, while he makes known his need. 320

  —This sacred right is fruitlessly announced,

  This universal plea in vain addressed,

  To eyes and ears of parents who themselves

  Did, in the time of their necessity,

  Urge it in vain; and, therefore, like a prayer

  That from the humblest floor ascends to heaven,

  It mounts to meet the State’s parental ear;

  Who, if indeed she own a mother’s heart,

  And be not most unfeelingly devoid

  Of gratitude to Providence, will grant 330

  The unquestionable good—which, England, safe

  From interference of external force,

  May grant at leisure; without risk incurred

  That what in wisdom for herself she doth,

  Others shall e’er be able to undo.

  Look! and behold, from Calpe’s sun-burnt cliffs

  To the flat margin of the Baltic sea,

  Long-reverenced titles cast away as weeds;

  Laws overturned; and territory split,

  Like fields of ice rent by the polar wind, 340

  And forced to join in less obnoxious shapes

  Which, ere they gain consistence, by a gust

  Of the same breath are shattered and destroyed.

  Meantime the sovereignty of these fair Isles

  Remains entire and indivisible:

  And, if that ignorance were removed, which breeds

  Within the compass of their several shores

  Dark discontent, or loud commotion, each

  Might still preserve the beautiful repose

  Of heavenly bodies shining in their spheres. 350

  —The discipline of slavery is unknown

  Among us,—hence the more do we require

  The discipline of virtue; order else

  Cannot subsist, nor confidence, nor peace.

  Thus, duties rising out of good possest,