Appeared like something in myself, a dream, A prospect in the mind. I had received so much, that all my thoughts Were steeped in feeling; I was only then "Twere long to tell 400 Contented, when with bliss ineffable I felt the sentiment of Being spread O'er all that moves and all that seemeth still; What spring and autumn, what the winter snows, And what the summer shade, what day 355 Evening and morning, sleep and waking, From sources inexhaustible, poured forth 405 In which I walked with Nature. But let this That by the regular action of the world 410 With general tendency, but, for the most, O'er all that, lost beyond the reach of thought And human knowledge, to the human eye Invisible, yet liveth to the heart; O'er all that leaps and runs, and shouts and sings, Or beats the gladsome air; o'er all that glides Beneath the wave, yea, in the wave itself, With every form of creature, as it looked Forgot her functions, and slept undisturbed. If this be error, and another faith So dear, if I should fail with grateful voice 425 And sounding cataracts, ye mists and winds That dwell among the hills where I was 385 In objects where no brotherhood exists born. If in my youth I have been pure in heart, If, mingling with the world, I am content With my own modest pleasures, and have lived With God and Nature communing, removed From little enmities and low desires, If, 'mid indifference and apathy, 1 During the War of the Second Coalition, 17991801, when England feared an invasion by Napoleon. See Coleridge's Fears in Solitude (p. 353). Yet mingled not unwillingly with sneers 120 All finite motions overruling, lives 440 On visionary minds; if, in this time Of dereliction and dismay, I yet Despair not of our nature, but retain A more than Roman confidence, a faith That fails not, in all sorrow my support, 445 The blessing of my life; the gift is yours, Ye winds and sounding cataracts! 'tis yours Ye mountains! thine, O Nature! hast fed My lofty speculations; and in thee, For this uneasy heart of ours, I find 450 A never-failing principle of joy And purest passion. Thou From Book III. RESIDENCE AT CAMBRIDGE 125 In glory immutable. But peace! enough Even the loose stones that cover the high- I gave a moral life: I saw them feel, 130 Or linked them to some feeling: the great 90 Oft when the dazzling show no longer new And as I paced alone the level fields Far from those lovely sights and sounds sublime 95 With which I had been conversant, the mind 140 Drooped not; but there into herself returning, With prompt rebound seemed fresh as At least I more distinctly recognized mass Lay bedded in a quickening soul, and all That I beheld respired with inward mean ing. Add that whate'er of Terror or of Love I was as sensitive as waters are I had a world about me- 'twas my own; From BooK IV. SUMMER VACATION 'Mid a throng Or circumstance, how far soever changed 310 Of maids and youths, old men, and ma The guides and wardens of our faculties, 355 Sages who in their prescience would control All accidents, and to the very road Which they have fashioned would con- 395 fine us down, Like engines; when will their presumption learn, That in the unreasoning progress of the world 360 A wiser spirit is at work for us, A better eye than theirs, most prodigal Of blessings, and most studious of our good, Even in what seem our most unfruitful There was a Boy: ye knew him well, 365 And islands of Winander!-many a time 370 And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands 1 dyed scarlet 400 Into the bosom of the steady lake. This Boy was taken from his mates, and died In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old. Fair is the spot, most beautiful the vale yard hangs Upon a slope above the village school,2 On summer evenings, I believe that there That self-same village church; I see her sit On her green hill, forgetful of this Boy A race of real children; not too wise, And bandied up and down by love and hate; Not unresentful where self-justified; 415 Fierce, moody, patient, venturous, modest, shy; Mad at their sports like withered leaves in winds; Though doing wrong and suffering, and full oft To endure this state of meagre vassalage, 520 Uneasy and unsettled, yoke-fellows Bending beneath our life's mysterious 525 weight Of pain, and doubt, and fear, yet yielding And they must have their food. Our childhood sits, Our simple childhood, sits upon a throne That hath more power than all the elements. 510 I guess not what this tells of being past, Nor what it augurs of the life to come; But so it is, and, in that dubious hour, That twilight when we first begin to see This dawning earth, to recognize, expect, 515 And, in the long probation that ensues, The time of trial, ere we learn to live In reconcilement with our stinted powers; 1 wander about To custom, mettlesome, and not yet tamed And humbled down;-oh! then we feel, we feel, We know where we have friends. Ye\ Forgers of daring tales! we bless you then, Who make our wish, our power, our An empire, a possession,-ye whom time 530 And seasons serve; all Faculties to whom Earth crouches, the elements are potter's All winter long, whenever free to choose, Did I by night frequent the College groves And tributary walks; the last, and oft The only one, who had been lingering there 610 70 Through hours of silence, till the porter's bell, A punctual follower on the stroke of nine, Grew there; an ash which Winter for him- Decked as in pride, and with outlandish grace: 80 Up from the ground, and almost to the top, The trunk and every master branch were green With clustering ivy, and the lightsome twigs And outer spray profusely tipped with seeds That hung in yellow tassels, while the air 85 Stirred them, not voiceless. Often have I stood Foot-bound uplooking at this lovely tree 90 Could have more tranquil visions in his youth, Or could more bright appearances create Imagination-here the Power so called Through sad incompetence of human speech, That awful Power rose from the mind's abyss 595 Like an unfathered vapor that enwraps, At once, some lonely traveller. I was lost; Halted without an effort to break through; But to my conscious soul I now can say "I recognize thy glory:" in such strength. 600 Of usurpation, when the light of sense Goes out, but with a flash that has revealed The invisible world, doth greatness make abode, There harbors; whether we be young or old, Our destiny, our being's heart and home, 605 Is with infinitude, and only there; With hope it is, hope that can never die, 615 Effort, and expectation, and desire, That may attest her prowess, blest in thoughts That are their own perfection and reward, Strong in herself and in beatitude That hides her, like the mighty flood of Nile Poured from his fount of Abyssinian clouds To fertilize the whole Egyptian plain. The melancholy slackening that ensued Upon those tidings by the peasant given Was soon dislodged. Downwards we hurried fast, 620 And with the half-shaped road which we had missed, 625 Entered a narrow chasm. The brook and road Were fellow-travellers in this gloomy strait, And with them did we journey several hours At a slow pace. The immeasurable height Of woods decaying, never to be decayed, The stationary blasts of waterfalls, And in the narrow rent at every turn Winds thwarting winds, bewildered and forlorn, The torrent shooting from the clear blue sky, 630 The rocks that muttered close upon our |