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Full Title
The complete poetical works of William Wordsworth: together with a description of the country of the lakes in the north of England, now first published with his works ... / edited by Henry Reed.
Author
Wordsworth, William, 1770-1850. Melville, Herman, 1819-1891.
Date Added
8 January 2014
Language
English
Publish Date
1839
Publisher
Philadelphia: J. Kay, Jun. and brother; Boston: J. Munroe and Co.; [etc., etc.]
Source
Woodstock Theological Center Library, Georgetown University.
Topic
Wordsworth, William, 1770-1850. Melville, Herman, 1819-1891. English poetry.
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OCR
| ara
WORDSWORTH’S POETICAL WORKS.
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 ’t'is known
That when we stand upon our native soil,
Unelbowed by such objects as oppress
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
We look for health from seeds that have been sown
Tn sickness, and for increase in a power
That works but by extinction? On themselves
They cannot Jean, 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
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 regret,
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;
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 hinderances exposed,
Through which I struggled, not without distress
And sometimes injury, like a Lamb enthralled
*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 bé 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,
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;
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 diflused
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,
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,
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.
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 presumed.
Strange, then, nor less than monstrous might be deemed
The failure, if the Almighty, to this point
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:
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