Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth

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by William Wordsworth


  Their liquid world, for bold discovery,

  In all her quarters temptingly displayed!

  Hope guides the young; but when the old must pass

  The threshold, whither shall they turn to find 10

  The hospitality—the alms (alas!

  Alms may be needed) which that House bestowed?

  Can they, in faith and worship, train the mind

  To keep this new and questionable road?

  SAINTS

  YE, too, must fly before a chasing hand,

  Angels and Saints, in every hamlet mourned!

  Ah! if the old idolatry be spurned,

  Let not your radiant Shapes desert the Land:

  Her adoration was not your demand,

  The fond heart proffered it—the servile heart;

  And therefore are ye summoned to depart,

  Michael, and thou, St. George, whose flaming brand

  The Dragon quelled; and valiant Margaret

  Whose rival sword a like Opponent slew: 10

  And rapt Cecilia seraph-haunted Queen

  Of harmony; and weeping Magdalene,

  Who in the penitential desert met

  Gales sweet as those that over Eden blew!

  THE VIRGIN

  MOTHER! whose virgin bosom was uncrost

  With the least shade of thought to sin allied;

  Woman! above all women glorified,

  Our tainted nature’s solitary boast;

  Purer than foam on central ocean tost;

  Brighter than eastern skies at daybreak strewn

  With fancied roses, than the unblemished moon

  Before her wane begins on heaven’s blue coast;

  Thy Image falls to earth. Yet some, I ween,

  Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend, 10

  As to a visible Power, in which did blend

  All that was mixed and reconciled in Thee

  Of mother’s love with maiden purity,

  Of high with low, celestial with terrene!

  APOLOGY

  NOT utterly unworthy to endure

  Was the supremacy of crafty Rome;

  Age after age to the arch of Christendom

  Aerial keystone haughtily secure;

  Supremacy from Heaven transmitted pure,

  As many hold; and, therefore, to the tomb

  Pass, some through fire—and by the scaffold some—

  Like saintly Fisher, and unbending More.

  “Lightly for both the bosom’s lord did sit

  “Upon his throne;” unsoftened, undismayed 10

  By aught that mingled with the tragic scene

  Of pity or fear: and More’s gay genius played

  With the inoffensive sword of native wit,

  Than the bare axe more luminous and keen.

  IMAGINATIVE REGRETS

  DEEP is the lamentation! Not alone

  From Sages justly honoured by mankind;

  But from the ghostly tenants of the wind,

  Demons and Spirits, many a dolorous groan

  Issues for that dominion overthrown:

  Proud Tiber grieves, and far-off Ganges, blind

  As his own worshippers: and Nile, reclined

  Upon his monstrous urn, the farewell moan

  Renews. Through every forest, cave, and den,

  Where frauds were hatched of old, hath sorrow past— 10

  Hangs o’er the Arabian Prophet’s native Waste,

  Where once his airy helpers schemed and planned

  ‘Mid spectral lakes bemocking thirsty men,

  And stalking pillars built of fiery sand.

  REFLECTIONS

  GRANT, that by this unsparing hurricane

  Green leaves with yellow mixed are torn away,

  And goodly fruitage with the mother spray;

  ‘Twere madness—wished we, therefore, to detain,

  With hands stretched forth in mollified disdain,

  The “trumpery” that ascends in bare display—

  Bulls, pardons, relics, cowls black, white, and grey—

  Upwhirled, and flying o’er the ethereal plain

  Fast bound for Limbo Lake. And yet not choice

  But habit rules the unreflecting herd, 10

  And airy bonds are hardest to disown;

  Hence, with the spiritual sovereignty transferred

  Unto itself, the Crown assumes a voice

  Of reckless mastery, hitherto unknown.

  TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE

  BUT, to outweigh all harm, the sacred Book,

  In dusty sequestration wrapt too long,

  Assumes the accents of our native tongue;

  And he who guides the plough, or wields the crook,

  With understanding spirit now may look

  Upon her records, listen to her song,

  And sift her laws—much wondering that the wrong,

  Which Faith has suffered, Heaven could calmly brook.

  Transcendent boon! noblest that earthly King

  Ever bestowed to equalize and bless 10

  Under the weight of mortal wretchedness!

  But passions spread like plagues, and thousands wild

  With bigotry shall tread the Offering

  Beneath their feet, detested and defiled.

  THE POINT AT ISSUE

  FOR what contend the wise?—for nothing less

  Than that the Soul, freed from the bonds of Sense,

  And to her God restored by evidence

  Of things not seen, drawn forth from their recess,

  Root there, and not in forms, her holiness;—

  For Faith, which to the Patriarchs did dispense

  Sure guidance, ere a ceremonial fence

  Was needful round men thirsting to transgress;—

  For Faith, more perfect still, with which the Lord

  Of all, himself a Spirit, in the youth 10

  Of Christian aspiration, deigned to fill

  The temples of their hearts who, with his word

  Informed, were resolute to do his will,

  And worship him in spirit and in truth.

  EDWARD VI

  “SWEET is the holiness of Youth”—so felt

  Time-honoured Chaucer speaking through that Lay

  By which the Prioress beguiled the way,

  And many a Pilgrim’s rugged heart did melt.

  Hadst thou, loved Bard! whose spirit often dwelt

  In the clear land of vision, but foreseen

  King, child, and seraph, blended in the mien

  Of pious Edward kneeling as he knelt

  In meek and simple infancy, what joy

  For universal Christendom had thrilled 10

  Thy heart! what hopes inspired thy genius, skilled

  (O great Precursor, genuine morning Star)

  The lucid shafts of reason to employ,

  Piercing the Papal darkness from afar!

  EDWARD SIGNING THE WARRANT FOR THE EXECUTION OF JOAN OF KENT

  THE tears of man in various measure gush

  From various sources; gently overflow

  From blissful transport some—from clefts of woe

  Some with ungovernable impulse rush;

  And some, coeval with the earliest blush

  Of infant passion, scarcely dare to show

  Their pearly lustre—coming but to go;

  And some break forth when others’ sorrows crush

  The sympathising heart. Nor these, nor yet

  The noblest drops to admiration known, 10

  To gratitude, to injuries forgiven—

  Claim Heaven’s regard like waters that have wet

  The innocent eyes of youthful Monarchs driven

  To pen the mandates, nature doth disown.

  REVIVAL OF POPERY

  THE saintly Youth has ceased to rule, discrowned

  By unrelenting Death. O People keen

  For change, to whom the new looks always green!

  Rejoicing did they cast upon the ground

&
nbsp; Their Gods of wood and stone; and, at the sound

  Of counter-proclamation, now are seen,

  (Proud triumph is it for a sullen Queen!)

  Lifting them up, the worship to confound

  Of the Most High. Again do they invoke

  The Creature, to the Creature glory give; 10

  Again with frankincense the altars smoke

  Like those the Heathen served; and mass is sung;

  And prayer, man’s rational prerogative,

  Runs through blind channels of an unknown tongue.

  LATIMER AND RIDLEY

  HOW fast the Marian death-list is unrolled!

  See Latimer and Ridley in the might

  Of Faith stand coupled for a common flight!

  One (like those prophets whom God sent of old)

  Transfigured, from this kindling hath foretold

  A torch of inextinguishable light;

  The Other gains a confidence as bold;

  And thus they foil their enemy’s despite.

  The penal instruments, the shows of crime,

  Are glorified while this once-mitred pair 10

  Of saintly Friends the “murtherer’s chain partake,

  Corded, and burning at the social stake:”

  Earth never witnessed object more sublime

  In constancy, in fellowship more fair!

  CRANMER

  OUTSTRETCHING flameward his upbraided hand

  (O God of mercy, may no earthly Seat

  Of judgment such presumptuous doom repeat!)

  Amid the shuddering throng doth Cranmer stand;

  Firm as the stake to which with iron band

  His frame is tied; firm from the naked feet

  To the bare head. The victory is complete;

  The shrouded Body to the Soul’s command

  Answers with more than Indian fortitude,

  Through all her nerves with finer sense endued, 10

  Till breath departs in blissful aspiration:

  Then, ‘mid the ghastly ruins of the fire,

  Behold the unalterable heart entire,

  Emblem of faith untouched, miraculous attestation!

  GENERAL VIEW OF THE TROUBLES OF THE REFORMATION

  AID, glorious Martyrs, from your fields of light,

  Our mortal ken! Inspire a perfect trust

  (While we look round) that Heaven’s decrees are just:

  Which few can hold committed to a fight

  That shows, ev’n on its better side, the might

  Of proud Self-will, Rapacity, and Lust,

  ‘Mid clouds enveloped of polemic dust,

  Which showers of blood seem rather to incite

  Than to allay. Anathemas are hurled

  From both sides; veteran thunders (the brute test 10

  Of truth) are met by fulminations new—

  Tartarean flags are caught at, and unfurled—

  Friends strike at friends—the flying shall pursue—

  And Victory sickens, ignorant where to rest!

  ENGLISH REFORMERS IN EXILE

  SCATTERING, like birds escaped the fowler’s net,

  Some seek with timely flight a foreign strand;

  Most happy, re-assembled in a land

  By dauntless Luther freed, could they forget

  Their Country’s woes. But scarcely have they met,

  Partners in faith, and brothers in distress,

  Free to pour forth their common thankfulness,

  Ere hope declines:—their union is beset

  With speculative notions rashly sown,

  Whence thickly-sprouting growth of poisonous weeds; 10

  Their forms are broken staves; their passions, steeds

  That master them. How enviably blest

  Is he who can, by help of grace, enthrone

  The peace of God within his single breast!

  ELIZABETH

  HAIL, Virgin Queen! o’er many an envious bar

  Triumphant, snatched from many a treacherous wile!

  All hail, sage Lady, whom a grateful Isle

  Hath blest, respiring from that dismal war

  Stilled by thy voice! But quickly from afar

  Defiance breathes with more malignant aim;

  And alien storms with home-bred ferments claim

  Portentous fellowship. Her silver car,

  By sleepless prudence ruled, glides slowly on;

  Unhurt by violence, from menaced taint 10

  Emerging pure, and seemingly more bright:

  Ah! wherefore yields it to a foul constraint

  Black as the clouds its beams dispersed, while shone,

  By men and angels blest, the glorious light?

  EMINENT REFORMERS

  METHINKS that I could trip o’er heaviest soil,

  Light as a buoyant bark from wave to wave,

  Were mine the trusty staff that JEWEL gave

  To youthful HOOKER, in familiar style

  The gift exalting, and with playful smile:

  For thus equipped, and bearing on his head

  The Donor’s farewell blessing, can he dread

  Tempest, or length of way, or weight of toil?—

  More sweet than odours caught by him who sails

  Near spicy shores of Araby the blest, 10

  A thousand times more exquisitely sweet,

  The freight of holy feeling which we meet,

  In thoughtful moments, wafted by the gales

  From fields where good men walk, or bowers wherein they rest.

  EMINENT REFORMERS: THE SAME

  HOLY and heavenly Spirits as they are,

  Spotless in life, and eloquent as wise,

  With what entire affection do they prize

  Their Church reformed! labouring with earnest care

  To baffle all that may her strength impair;

  That Church, the unperverted Gospel’s seat;

  In their afflictions a divine retreat;

  Source of their liveliest hope, and tenderest prayer!—

  The truth exploring with an equal mind,

  In doctrine and communion they have sought 10

  Firmly between the two extremes to steer;

  But theirs the wise man’s ordinary lot—

  To trace right courses for the stubborn blind,

  And prophesy to ears that will not hear.

  DISTRACTIONS

  MEN, who have ceased to reverence, soon defy,

  Their forefathers; lo! sects are formed, and split

  With morbid restlessness;—the ecstatic fit

  Spreads wide; though special mysteries multiply,

  ‘The Saints must govern’, is their common cry;

  And so they labour, deeming Holy Writ

  Disgraced by aught that seems content to sit

  Beneath the roof of settled Modesty.

  The Romanist exults; fresh hope he draws

  From the confusion, craftily incites 10

  The overweening, personates the mad—

  To heap disgust upon the worthier Cause:

  Totters the Throne; the new-born Church is sad,

  For every wave against her peace unites.

  GUNPOWDER PLOT

  FEAR hath a hundred eyes that all agree

  To plague her beating heart; and there is one

  (Nor idlest that!) which holds communion

  With things that were not, yet were ‘meant’ to be.

  Aghast within its gloomy cavity

  That eye (which sees as if fulfilled and done

  Crimes that might stop the motion of the sun)

  Beholds the horrible catastrophe

  Of an assembled Senate unredeemed

  From subterraneous Treason’s darkling power: 10

  Merciless act of sorrow infinite!

  Worse than the product of that dismal night,

  When gushing, copious as a thunder-shower,

  The blood of Huguenots through Paris streamed.

  ILLUSTRATION: THE JUNG-FRAU AND THE FALL OF THE RHI
NE NEAR SCHAFFHAUSEN

  THE Virgin Mountain, wearing like a Queen

  A brilliant crown of everlasting snow,

  Sheds ruin from her sides; and men below

  Wonder that aught of aspect so serene

  Can link with desolation. Smooth and green,

  And seeming, at a little distance, slow,

  The waters of the Rhine; but on they go

  Fretting and whitening, keener and more keen;

  Till madness seizes on the whole wide Flood,

  Turned to a fearful Thing whose nostrils breathe 10

  Blasts of tempestuous smoke—wherewith he tries

  To hide himself, but only magnifies;

  And doth in more conspicuous torment writhe,

  Deafening the region in his ireful mood.

  TROUBLES OF CHARLES THE FIRST

  EVEN such the contrast that, where’er we move,

  To the mind’s eye Religion doth present;

  Now with her own deep quietness content;

  Then, like the mountain, thundering from above

  Against the ancient pine-trees of the grove

  And the Land’s humblest comforts. Now her mood

  Recalls the transformation of the flood,

  Whose rage the gentle skies in vain reprove;

  Earth cannot check. O terrible excess

  Of headstrong will! Can this be Piety? 10

  No—some fierce Maniac hath usurped her name;

  And scourges England struggling to be free:

  Her peace destroyed! her hopes a wilderness!

  Her blessings cursed—her glory turned to shame!

  LAUD

  PREJUDGED by foes determined not to spare,

  An old weak Man for vengeance thrown aside,

  Laud, “in the painful art of dying” tried,

  (Like a poor bird entangled in a snare

  Whose heart still flutters, though his wings forbear

  To stir in useless struggle) hath relied

  On hope that conscious innocence supplied,

  And in his prison breathes celestial air.

  Why tarries then thy chariot? Wherefore stay,

  O Death! the ensanguined yet triumphant wheels, 10

 

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