Owed him no service; wherefore he at once With indignation turned himself
away, And with the food of pride sustained his soul In solitude. Stranger! these gloomy boughs Had charms for him; and here he loved to sit, His only visitants a straggling sheep,
The stone-chat, or the glancing sand-piper :* And on these barren rocks, with fern and heath, And juniper and thistle, sprinkled o'er,† Fixing his downcast eye, he many an hour A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here An emblem of his own unfruitful life: And, lifting up his head, he then would gaze On the more distant scene,-how lovely 'tis Thou seest,—and he would gaze till it became Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain The beauty, still more beauteous! Nor, that time, When nature had subdued him to herself,
Would he forget those Beings to whose minds Warm from the labours of benevolence
The world, and human life,‡ appeared a scene Of kindred loveliness: then he would sigh, Inly disturbed,§ to think that others felt. What he must never feel: and so, lost Man! On visionary views would fancy feed,
Till his eye streamed with tears. In this deep vale He died, this seat his only monument.
* The stone-chat, or the sand-lark, restless bird, Piping along the margin of the lake.-Edit. 1815.
† And on these barren rocks, with juniper,
And heath, and thistle, thinly sprinkled o'er.-Edit. 1815.
The world, and man himself.-Edit. 1815.
§ With mournful joy, to think.-Edit. 1815.
If Thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure,
Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know that pride, Howe'er disguised in its own majesty,
Is littleness; that he who feels contempt
For any living thing, hath faculties
Which he has never used; that thought with him The man whose eye
Is ever on himself doth look on one,
The least of Nature's works, one who might move The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds Unlawful, ever. O be wiser, Thou !
Instructed that true knowledge leads to love; True dignity abides with him alone
Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart.*
CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR.+
WHO is the happy Warrior? Who is he That every man in arms should wish to be? -It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought:
* The thought that such a poem as this was written by a man of fiveand-twenty, strikes me with astonishment.-ED.
This noble poem was written in 1806. Many passages in it were suggested, the author said, by what was generally known as excellent in the conduct of Lord Nelson. He also said that "many elements of the character pourtrayed were found in his brother John, who perished by shipwreck." (See note to "The Brothers," and to the last of the poems on the Daisy.)
Whose high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright : Who, with a natural instinct to discern
What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn; Abides by this resolve, and stops not there, But makes his moral being his prime care; Who, doomed to go in company with Pain, And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train! Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power Which is our human nature's highest dower; Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives: By objects, which might force the soul to abate Her feeling, rendered more compassionate; Is placable because occasions rise
So often that demand such sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure, As tempted more; more able to endure, As more exposed to suffering and distress; Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.
'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence, in a state where men are tempted still To evil for a guard against worse ill, And what in quality or act is best Doth seldom on a right foundation rest, He labours good on good to fix, and owes* To virtue every triumph that he knows : -Who, if he rise to station of command, Rises by open means; and there will stand
*He fixes good on good alone, and owes.-Edit. 1815.
On honourable terms, or else retire, And in himself possess his own desire ; Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;
And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state; Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall, Like showers of manna, if they come at all:
Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar grace ;
But who, if he be called upon to face
Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for human kind, Is happy as a Lover; and attired
With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired; And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw; Or if an unexpected call succeed,
Come when it will, is equal to the need: -He who, though thus endued as with a sense And faculty for storm and turbulence,
Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes; Sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he be, Are at his heart; and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to approve ;
More brave for this, that he hath much to love :- "Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high, Conspicuous object in a Nation's eye, Or left unthought-of in obscurity,- Who, with a toward or untoward lot, Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not-
Plays, in the many games of life, that one Where what he most doth value must be won : Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray; Who, not content that former worth stand fast, Looks forward, persevering to the last, From well to better, daily self-surpast:
Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth For ever, and to noble deeds give birth, Or he must fall, to sleep without his fame,* And leave a dead unprofitable name— Finds comfort in himself and in his cause; And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause : This is the happy Warrior; this is He That every Man in arms should wish to be.t
The history of Rob Roy is sufficiently known; his grave is near the head of Loch Ketterine, in one of those small pinfold-like Burial-grounds, of neglected and desolate appearance, which the traveller meets with in the Highlands of Scotland.
A FAMOUS man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy! And Scotland has a thief as good, An outlaw of as daring mood; She has her brave ROB ROY!
*Or he must go to dust without his fame.-Edit. 1815.
They of the present generation will scarcely read this poem without thinking of the Duke of Wellington.-ED.
Written after Wordsworth's Scotch tour in 1803. He was afterwards told that he had been misinformed as to the burial-place of Rob Roy.
« ПредыдущаяПродолжить » |