« ForrigeFortsæt »
To her may all things live, from pole to pole,
O simple spirit, guided from above,
TO A FRIEND
WHO HAD DECLARED HIS INTENTION OF WRITING
NO MORE POETRY.*
DEAR Charles ! whilst yet thou wert a babe, I
ween That Genius plunged thee in that wizard fount Hight Castalie : and (sureties of thy faith) That Pity and Simplicity stood by, And promised for thee, that thou shouldst renounce The world's low cares and lying vanities, Steadfast and rooted in the heavenly Muse, And wash'd and sanctified to Poesy. Yes—thou wert plunged, but with forgetful hand Held, as by Thetis erst her warrior son : And with those recreant unbaptized heels Thou’rt flying from thy bounden ministeriesSo sore it seems and burthensome a task To weave unwithering flowers ! But take thou heed : For thou art vulnerable, wild-eyed boy, And I have arrowst mystically dipt,
* Printed in The Annual Anthology, Bristol, vol. ii. (1800). + Pind. Olymp, ii. 1. 156.
Such as may stop thy speed. Is thy Burns dead ?
Oh ! for shame return ! On a bleak rock, midway the Aonian mount, There stands a lone and melancholy tree, Whose aged branches to the midnight blast Make solemn music : pluck its darkest bough, Ere yet the unwholesome night-dew be exhaled, And weeping wreath it round thy Poet's tomb. Then in the outskirts, where pollutions grow, Pick the rank henbane and the dusky flowers Of night-shade, or its red and tempting fruit, These with stopp'd nostril and glove-guarded hand Knit in nice intertexture, so to twine, The illustrious brow of Scotch Nobility !
* Verbatim from Burns' Dedication of his Poems to the Nobility and Gentry of the Caledonian Hunt.
TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
COMPOSED ON THE NIGHT AFTER HIS RECITATION OF A POEM ON THE GROWTH OF AN
FRIEND of the wise! and teacher of the good !
Into my heart have I received that lay
Theme hard as high Of smiles spontaneous, and mysterious fears (The first-born they of Reason and twin-birth), Of tides obedient to external force, And currents self-determined, as might seem, Or by some inner Power; of moments awful, Now in thy inner life, and now abroad, When power stream'd from thee, and thy soul
* The Prelude, commenced in the beginning of 1799 and completed in May, 1805, was read by Wordsworth to Coleridge after the return of the latter from Malta. This poem was not published until after the author's death in 1850.-Ev.
+ Like the secret soul-1817.
The light reflected, as a light bestow'd-
Of more than Fancy, of the Social Sense Distending wide, and man beloved as man, Where France in all her towns lay vibrating Like some becalmed bark* beneath the burst Of Heaven's immediate thunder, when no cloud Is visible, or shadow on the main. For thou wert there, thine own brows garlanded, Amid the tremor of a realm aglow, Amid a mighty nation jubilant, When from the general heart of human kind Hope sprang forth like a full-born Deity!
Of that dear Hope afflicted and struck down, So summon'd homeward, thenceforth calm and sure From the dread watch-tower of man's absolute self, With light unwaning on her eyes, to look Far on-herself a glory to behold, The Angel of the vision ! Then (last strain) Of Duty, chosen laws controlling choice, Action and joy !- An Orphic song indeed,
* Even as a bark becalm'd-1817.
A song divine of high and passionate thoughts
O great Bard!