The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth

Was smitten by the great ones of the I knew the force; and hence the rough world, sea's pride

ΙΟ

But did not fall; for Virtue braves all Availed not to my Vessel's overthrow. 20 What noble pomp and frequent have

shocks,

Upon herself resting immovably.

Me did a kindlier fortune then invite

not I

On regal decks beheld! yet in the end

To serve the glorious Henry, King of I learned that one poor moment can

France,

And in his hands I saw a high reward 15
Stretched out for my acceptance,-but
Death came.

suffice

To equalize the lofty and the low.
We sail the sea of life-a Calm One
finds,

25 Now, Reader, learn from this my fate, And One a Tempest-and, the voyage o'er, how false, Death is the quiet haven of us all.

How treacherous to her promise, is the If more of my condition ye would know,

world;

Savona was my birthplace, and I sprang
Of noble parents: seventy years and three
Lived I-then yielded to a slow disease.

[Composed ?.-Published 1837.]

TRUE is it that Ambrosio Salinero
With an untoward fate was long involved
In odious litigation; and full long,

THERE never breathed a man who, when Fate harder still! had he to endure as

his life

Was closing, might not of that life relate Toils long and hard.-The warrior will report

saults

Of racking malady. And true it is 5
That not the less a frank courageous heart
And buoyant spirit triumphed over pain;

Of wounds, and bright swords flashing in And he was strong to follow in the steps

Of every cloud which in the heavens And live as long as its pure stream shall

VI.

That every gentle Spirit hither led

[Composed 1809.-Published December 28, 1809 May read them not without some bitter

(The Friend); ed. 1815.]

DESTINED to war from very infancy

Was I, Roberto Dati, and I took

In Malta the white symbol of the Cross:
Nor in life's vigorous season did I shun
Hazard or toil; among the sands was seen
Of Lybia; and not seldom, on the banks 6
Of wide Hungarian Danube, 'twas
my lot
To hear the sanguinary trumpet sounded.
So lived I, and repined not at such fate:
This only grieves me, for it seems a

tears.

Here laid in mortal darkness, wouldst Its Sister-twin survives, whose smiles

She came, though meek of soul, in seemly In affectionate remembrance of Frances Fermor,

whose remains are deposited in the church of Claines, near Worcester, this stone is erected by her sister, Dame Margaret, wife of Sir George Beaumont, Bart., who, feeling not less than the love of a brother for the deceased, commends this memorial to the care of his heirs and successors in the possession of this place.

[Composed 1824.-Published 1842.] By vain affections unenthralled, Though resolute when duty called To meet the world's broad eye, Pure as the holiest cloistered nun That ever feared the tempting sun, Did Fermor live and die.

I raised, while kneeling by his side, His hand :-it dropped like lead. Your hands, dear Little-ones, do all That can be done, will never fall Like his till they are dead.

By night or day, blow foul or fair,

"I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE Ne'er will the best of all your train

LIFE."

IV. EPITAPH

Play with the locks of his white hair, Or stand between his knees again.

Here did he sit confined for hours; But he could see the woods and plains, Could hear the wind and mark the showers

IN THE CHAPEL-YARD OF LANGDALE, Come streaming down the streaming

WESTMORELAND.

[Composed 1841.-Published: vol. of 1842.]

BY playful smiles, (alas! too oft
A sad heart's sunshine) by a soft
And gentle nature, and a free
Yet modest hand of charity,

Through life was OWEN LLOYD endeared
To young and old; and how revered
Had been that pious spirit, a tide
Of humble mourners testified,
When, after pains dispensed to prove
The measure of God's chastening love, 10
Here, brought from far, his corse found
rest,-

Fulfilment of his own request;-
Urged less for this Yew's shade, though he
Planted with such fond hope the tree;
Less for the love of stream and rock, 15
Dear as they were, than that his Flock,
When they no more their Pastor's voice
Could hear to guide them in their choice
Through good and evil, help might have,
Admonished, from his silent grave,
Of righteousness, of sins forgiven,
For peace on earth and bliss in heaven.

panes.

Mourn, Shepherd, near thy old grey stone;
Thou Angler, by the silent flood;
And mourn when thou art all alone,
Thou Woodman, in the distant wood!
Thou one blind Sailor, rich in joy
Though blind, thy tunes in sadness hum;
And mourn, thou poor half-witted Boy!
Born deaf, and living deaf and dumb. 40

Thou drooping sick Man, bless the Guide

ADDRESS TO THE SCHOLARS OF Who checked or turned thy headstrong THE VILLAGE SCHOOL OF

[Composed 1798.-Published: vol. of 1842.]

I COME, ye little noisy Crew,
Not long your pastime to prevent;
I heard the blessing which to you

Our common Friend and Father sent.
I kissed his cheek before he died;
And when his breath was fled,

youth,

As he before had sanctified

Thy infancy with heavenly truth.

Ye Striplings, light of heart and gay, 45 Bold settlers on some foreign shore,

Give, when your thoughts are turned this

way,

A sigh to him whom we deplore.

BY THE SIDE OF THE GRAVE SOME
YEARS AFTER.
LONG time his pulse hath ceased to beat;
But benefits, his gift, we trace—
Expressed in every eye we meet
Round this dear Vale, his native place. 60

To stately Hall and Cottage rude
Flowed from his life what still they hold,
Light pleasures, every day renewed;
And blessings half a century old.
Oh true of heart, of spirit gay,
Thy faults, where not already gone
From memory, prolong their stay
For charity's sweet sake alone.

Such solace find we for our loss;
And what beyond this thought we crave
Comes in the promise from the Cross, 71
Shining upon thy happy grave1.

VI.

ELEGIAC STANZAS, SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM, PAINTED BY

SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.

[Composed 1805.-Published 1807.]

I WAS thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!

Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven ;-
Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine
The very sweetest had to thee been given.

A Picture had it been of lasting ease, 25
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,
Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.

Such, in the fond illusion of my heart, Such Picture would I at that time have made:

30 And seen the soul of truth in every part, A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed.

Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of So once it would have been,-'tis so no

thee:

I saw thee every day; and all the while Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea. So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! 5 So like, so very like, was day to day! Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there;

It trembled, but it never passed away.

1 See upon the subject of the three foregoing pieces "Matthew," &c., &c., pp. 486-488.

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