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Under this he carried a bundle, and had an apron on and a night-cap. His face was interesting. He had dark eyes and a long nose. John, who afterwards met him at Wytheburu, took hinn for a Jew. He was of Scotch parents, but had been born in the army.

He had had a wife, and she was a good woman, and it pleased God to bless us with ten children.' All these were dead but one, of whom he had not heard for many years, a sailor. His trade was to gather leeches, but now leeches were scarce, and he had not strength for it. He lived og begging, and was making his way to Carlisle, where he should buy a few godly books to sell. He said leeches were very scarce, partly owing to this dry season, but many years they have been scarce. He supposed it owing to their being much sought after, that they did not breed fast, and were of slow growth. Leeches were formerly 2s. 6d. per 100; they are now 30s. He had been hurt in driving a cart, lis leg broken, his body driven over, his skull fractured. He felt no pain till he recovered from his first insen. sibility. . It was then late in the evening, when the light was just going away." (Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, October 3, 1800.)

Set the sign-board in a blaze,
When the rising sun he painted,
Took the fancy from a glance
At thy glittering countenance.
Soon as gentle breezes bring
News of winter's vanishing,
And the children build their bowers,
Sticking 'kerchief-plots of mould
All about with full-blown flowers,
Thick as sheep in shepherd's fold !
With the proudest thou art there,
Mantling in the tiny square.
Often have I sighed to measure
By myself a lonely pleasure,
Sighed to think I read a book
Only read, perhaps, by me;
Yet I long could overlook
Thy bright coronet and Thee,
And thy arch and wily ways,
And thy store of other praise.
Blithe of heart, from week to week
Thou dost play at hide-and-seek ;
While the patient primrose sits
Like a beggar in the cold,
Thou, a flower of wiser wits,
Slipp'st into thy sheltering hold ;
Liveliest of the vernal train
When ye all are out again.
Drawn by what peculiar spell.
By what charm of sight or smell,
Does the dim-eyed curious Bee,
Laboring for her waxen cells,
Foudiy settle upon Thee
Prized above all buds and bells
Opening daily at thy side,
By the season multiplied ?

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Thou are not beyond the moon,
But a thing “beneath our shoon :"
Let the bold Discoverer thurid
In his bark the polar sea;
Rear who will a pyramid;
Praise it is enough for me,
If there be but three or four
Who will love my little Flower.

1802. 1807.


I was a Traveller then upon the moor,
I saw the lare that raced about with

joy ; I heard the woods and distant waters

roar; Or heard them not, as happy as a boy : The pleasant season did my heart em

ploy : My old remembrances went from me

wholly ; And all the ways of men, so vain and


This poem was originally known as The Leech Gatherer, and is still often called by that title. Compare the account of its origin, in Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal :

When William and I returned, we met an old man almost double, He had ou a coat, thrown over his shoulders, above his waistcoat and coat.

But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the

might Of joy in minds that can no further go, As high as we have mounted in delight In our dejection do we sink as low; To me that morning did it happen so; And fears and fancies thick upon me

came; Dim sadness--ard blind thoughts, I

knew not, nor could name.

As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lio
Couched on the bald top of an eminence;
Wonder to all who do the same espy,
By what means it could thither come,

and whence; So that it seems a thing endued with Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a

shelf Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun

itself ;


I heard the skylark warbling in the sky; And I bethought me of the playful hare: Even such a kappy Child of earth am I; Even as these blissful creatures do I fare; Far from the world I walk, and from all

care ; But there may come another day to me-Solitude, pain of heart, distress, and


Such seemed this Man, not all alive nor

dead, Nor all asleep, in his extreme old age: His body was bent double, feet and head Coming together in life's pilgrimage ; As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage Of sickness felt by him in times long

past, A more than human weight upon his

frame had cast.

My whole life I have lived in pleasant

thought, As if life's business were a summer

mood; As if all needful things would come un

sought To genial faith, still rich in genial good; But how can he expect that others

should Build for him, sow for him, and at his

call Love him, who for himself will take no

heed at all?

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous

Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his

pride; Of him who walked in glory and in joy Following his plough, along the moun

tain-side: By our own spirits are we deified : We Poets in our youth begin in glad

ness ; But thereof come in the end desponden

cy and madness,

Himself he propped, limbs, body, and

pale face, Upon a long gray staff of shaven wood : And, still as I drew near with gentle

pace, Upon the margin of that moorish flood Motionless as a cloud the old Man stood, That heareth not the loud winds when

they call And moveth all together, if it move at

all. At length, himself unsettling, he the

pond Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look Upon the muddy water, which he

conned, As if he had been reading in a book : And now a stranger's privilege I took; And, drawing to his side, to him did say, “This morning gives us promise of a

glorious day." A gentle answer did the old Man make. in courteous speech which forth he

slowly drew: And him with further words I thus be.

spake, " What occupation do you there pursue ? This is a lonesome place for one like you. Ere he replied, a flash of mild surprise Broke from the sable orbs of his yet.

Now, whether it were by peculiar grace, A leading from above, a something

given, Yet it befell, that, in this lonely place, When I with these untoward thoughts

had striven, Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven I saw a Man before me unawares : The oldest man he seemed that ever wore

gray hairs,

vivid eyes,

His words came feebly, from a feeble

chest, But each in solemn order followed each,

With something of a lofty utterance

drest Shoice word and measured phrase,

above the reach Of ordinary men ; a stately speech ; Such as grave Livers do in Scotland use, Religious men, who give to God and

man their dues

While he was talking thus, the lonely

place, The old Man's shape, and speech-all

troubled me: In my mind's eye I seemed to see him

pace About the weary moors continually, Wandering about alone and silently. While I these thoughts within myself

pursued, He, having made a pause, the same dis

course renewed.

He told, that to these waters he had


To gather leeches, being old and poor: Employment hazardous and wearisome! And he had many hardships to endure: From pond to pond he roamed, from

moor to moor; Housing, with God's good help, by choice

or chance, And in this way he gained an honest

maintenance. The old Man still stood talking by my

side ; But now his voice to me was like a

stream Scarce heard ; nor word from word

could I divide ; And the whole body of the Man did seem Like one whom I had met with in a

dream ; Or like a man from some far region sent, To give me human strength, by apt ad


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I GRIEVED for Buonaparte, with a vain And an unthinking grief! The tenderest

mood Of that Man's mind-- what can it be?

what food Fed his first hopes ? what knowledge

could he gain ? 'Tis not in battles that from youth we

train The Governor who must be wise and

good, And temper with the sternness of the

brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as woman

houd. Wisdom oth live with children round

her knees : Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the

talk Man holds with week-day man in the

hourly walk Of the mind's business: these are the


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By which true Sway doth mount; this

is the stalk Truc Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.

1802. 1802.

Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem,

to sink On England's bosom; yet well pleased

to rest, Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest Conspicuous to the Nations. Thou, I

think, Should'st be my Country's emblem ; and

should'st wink, Bright Star! with laughter on her ban.

ners, drest In thy fresh beauty. There! that dusky

spot Beneath thee, that is England ; there she

lies. Blessings be on you both ! one hope, one

lot, One life, one glory !-1, with many a fear For my dear Country, many heartfelt

sighs, Among men who do not love her, linger here.

1802. 1807.


BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802 “We left London on Saturday morning at half-past five or six, the 30th of July. "We mounted the Dover coach at Charing Cross. It was a beautiful morning. The city, St. Paul's, with the river, and a multitude of little boats, made a most beautiful sight as we crossed Westminster Bridge. The houses were not over. hung by their cloud of smoke, and they were spread out endlessly; yet the sun shone so brightly, with such a fierce light, that there was even something like the purity of one of nature's own grand spectacles." (Dorothy Wordsworti's Journal, July, 1802.) EARTH has not anything to show more

fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass

by A sight so touching in its majesty : This City now doth, like a garment,

wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and tem.

ples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smoke.

less air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendor, valley, rock, or

hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will : Dear God I the very houses seem asleep ; And all that mighty heart is lying stiili

1802. 1807.



This was composed on the beach near Calais, in the autumn of 1802. (Worilsworth.)

The last six lines are addressed to Words worth's sister Dorothy: See note to the preced ing Sonnet.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity ;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the

Sea :
Listen ! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder--everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest

with me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn

thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the

year ; And worship'st at the Temple's inner

shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.

1802. 1807.



“We had delightful walks after the heat of the day was passed -seeing far off in the west the coast of England like a cloud crested with Dover Castle, which was but like the summit of the cloud-the evening star and the glory of the sky, the reflections in the water were more beautiful than the sky itself, purple waves brighter than precious stones, for ever melting away upon the sands. . ... Nothing in romance was ever hall so beautiful. Now came in view, as the evening star sunk down, and the colors of the west faded away, the two lights of England." (Doro. thy Wordsworth's Journal, August, 1802.) FAIR Star of evening, Splendor of the

west, Star of my Countryl-on the horizon's




ONCE did She hold the gorgeous east in

fee ; And was the safeguard of the west: the


Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.
She was a maiden City, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And when she took unto herself a Mate,
She must espouse the everlasting Sea.
And what if she had seen those glories

fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength

decay ; Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reached its final

day: Men are we, and must grieve when even

the Shade or that which once was great, is passed away.

1802. 1807,

A span of waters; yet what power is

there ! What mightiness for evil and for good ! Even so doth God protect us if we be Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and

waters roll, Strength to the brave, and Power, and

Deity ; Yet in themselves are nothing! One

decree Spake laws to them, and said that by the

soul Only, the Nations shall be great and free.

1802. 1807.



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This was written immediately after my returu from France to London, when I could not but be struck, as here, described, with the vanity and parade of our own country, especially in great towns and cities, as contrasted with the quiet, and I may say the desolation, that the revolution had produced in France. This must be borne in mind, or else the reader may think that in this and the succeeding Sonnets I have exaggerated the mischief engendered and fos. tered among us by undisturbed wealth. It would not be easy to conceive with what a depth of feel. ing I entered into the struggle carried on by the Spaniards for their deliverance from the usurped power of the French. Many times have I gone from Allan Bank in Grasmere vale, where we were then residing, to the top of the Raise-gap as it is called, so late as two o'clock in the morning, to meet the carrier bringing the newspaper from Keswick. Imperfect traces of the state of mind in which I then was may be found in my Tract on the Convention of Cintra, as well as in these Sonnets. (Wordsworth.) O FRIEND! I know not which way I must

look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show ; mean bandy-work of crafts

man, cook, Or groom!-We must run glittering like

a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest: The wealthiest man among us is the

best: No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, ex pense, This is idolatry; and these we adore. Plain living and high thinking are no

more : The homely beauty of the good old

cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful inno

cence. And pure religion breathing household laws.

1802. 1807,


INLAND, within a inollow vale, I stood; And saw, while sea was calm and air

was clear, The coast of France--the coast of France

how near! Drawn almost into frightful neighbor

hood. I shrunk ; for verily the barrier flood Was like a lake, or river bright and


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