Hail, Memory, hail! in thy exhaustless mine From age to age unnumbered treasures shine! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, And Place and Time are subject to thy sway! Thy pleasures most we feel when most alone; The only pleasures we can call our own. Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die, If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; If but a beam of sober Reason play, Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away! But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light; And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest! [From Human Life."] The lark has sung his carol in the sky, The bees have hummed their noontide lullaby; Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer, A few short years, and then these sounds shall hail Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin; And soon again shall music swell the breeze; And once, alas! nor in a distant hour, He rests in holy earth with them that went before. To minstrel-harps at midnight's witching hour! ** * The day arrives, the moment wished and feared; The child is born, by many a pang endeared, And now the mother's ear has caught his cry; O grant the cherub to her asking eye! He comes-she clasps him. To her bosom pressed, He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest. Her by her smile how soon the stranger knows! How soon by his the glad discovery shews! As to her lips she lifts the lovely boy, When rosy Sleep comes on with sweet surprise. But soon a nobler task demands her care. His moving, murmuring lips endeavour to repeat. [Ginevra.] [From Italy.] If thou shouldst ever come by choice or chance Will long detain thee; through their arched walks, 'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth, As though she said 'Beware!' Her vest of gold An emerald-stone in every golden clasp; Alone it hangs That by the way-it may be true or false- Her mother dying of the gift she gave, Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue. Great was the joy; but at the bridal-feast, And filled his glass to all; but his hand shook, That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said With here and there a pearl, an emerald-stone, An Italian Song. Dear is my little native vale, The ring-dove builds and murmurs there; Close by my cot she tells her tale To every passing villager. The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, In orange groves and myrtle bowers, The shepherd's horn at break of day, To the Butterfly. Child of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight, Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept Written in the Highlands of Scotland-1812. Thy kirkyard wall among the trees, The fairy isles fled far away; Tarbat,1 thy shore I climbed at last; Night fell, and dark and darker grew The shattered fortress, whence the Dane And crosses decked thy summits blue. 1 Signifying, in the Gaelic language, an isthmus. 2 Loch Long. Oft like some loved romantic tale, Oft shall my weary mind recall, Amid the hum and stir of men, Thy beechen grove and water-fall, Thy ferry with its gliding sail, And her-the Lady of the Glen! Pæstum.1 [From Italy.] They stand between the mountains and the sea; Time was perhaps the third was sought for justice; Waiting the appointed time! All, all within Where once a slave withstood a world in arms. The air is sweet with violets, running wild Sweet as when Tully, writing down his thoughts, Well might he dream of glory! Now, coiled up, 1 The temples of Pæstum are three in number, and have survived, nearly nine centuries, the total destruction of the city. Tradition is silent concerning them, but they must have existed now between two and three thousand years. That very law which moulds a tear, And bids it trickle from its source, That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, the greatest of metaphysical poets, was a native of Cockermouth, in the county of Cumberland, where he was born on the 7th of April 1770. His parents were enabled to Wnlordswortho bestow upon their children the advantages of a complete education. His father was law-agent to Sir James Lowther, afterwards Earl of Lonsdale, and the poet and his brother-Dr Christopher Wordsworth, long master of Trinity College-after being some years at Hawkshead School, in Lancashire, were sent to the university of Cambridge. William was entered of St John's in 1787. Having finished his academical course, and taken his degree, he travelled for a short time. In the autumn of 1790, he accomplished a tour on the continent in company with a fellow-student, Mr Robert Jones. 'We went staff in hand,' he said, 'without knapsacks, and carrying each his needments tied up in a pocket handkerchief, with about £20 apiece in our pockets.' With this friend, Wordsworth made a tour in North Wales the following year, after taking his degree in college. He was again in France towards the close of the year 1791, and remained in that country about a twelvemonth. He had hailed the French Revolution with feelings of enthusiastic admiration. Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, Few poets escaped the contagion. Burns, Coleridge, Southey, and Campbell, all felt the flame, and looked for a new era of liberty and happiness. It was long ere Wordsworth abandoned his political theory. His friends were desirous he should enter the church, but his republican sentiments and the unsettled state of his mind rendered him averse to such a step. To the profession of the law he was equally opposed. Poetry was to be the sole business of his life. A young friend, Raisley Calvert, dying in 1795, left him a sum of £900. Upon the interest of the £900,' he says, '£400 being laid out in annuity, with £200 deducted from the principal, and £100, a legacy to my sister, and £100 more which the Lyrical Ballads brought me, my sister and I contrived to live seven years, nearly eight.' A further sum of about £1000 came to him as part of the estate of his father, who had died intestate; and with this small competence, Wordsworth devoted himself to study and seclusion. He first appeared as a poet in his twenty-third year, 1793. The title of his work was Descriptive Sketches, which was followed the same year by the Evening Walk. The walk is among the mountains of Westmoreland; the sketches refer to a tour made in Switzerland by the poet and his friend Jones. The poetry is of the style of Goldsmith; but description predominates over reflection. The enthusiastic dreams of liberty which then buoyed up the young poet, appear in such lines as the following: O give, great God, to freedom's waves to ride In the autumn of 1795, Wordsworth and his sister were settled at Racedown Lodge, near Crewkerne in Somersetshire, where they were visited in the summer of 1797 by Coleridge. The poets were charmed with each other's society, and became friends for life. Wordsworth has described Coleridge at this time as A noticeable man with large gray eyes, The poet and his sister next moved to a residence near Coleridge's, to Alfoxden, near Nether Stowey. At this place many of Wordsworth's smaller poems were written, and also a tragedy, the Borderers, which he attempted to get acted at Covent Garden Theatre, but it was rejected. In 1798, appeared the Lyrical Ballads, to which Coleridge contributed his Ancient Mariner. A generous provincial bookseller, Joseph Cottle of Bristol, gave thirty guineas for the copyright of this volume; he ventured on an impression of five hundred copies, but was soon glad to dispose of the largest proportion of the five hundred at a loss, to a London bookseller. The ballads were designed by their author as an experiment how far a simpler kind of poetry than that in use would afford permanent interest to readers. The humblest subjects, he contended, were fit for poetry, and the language should be that 'really used by men.' The fine fabric of poetic diction which generations of the tuneful tribe had been laboriously rearing, he proposed to destroy altogether. The language of humble and rustic life, arising out of repeated experience and regular feelings, he considered to be a more permanent and far more philosophical language than that which is frequently substituted for it by poets. The attempt of Wordsworth was either totally neglected or assailed with ridicule. The transition from the refined and sentimental school of verse, with select and polished diction, to such themes as The Idiot Boy, and a style of composition disfigured by colloquial plainness, and by the mixture of ludicrous images and associations with passages of tenderness and pathos, was too violent to escape ridicule or insure general success. It was often impossible to tell whether the poet meant to be comic or tender, serious or ludicrous; while the choice of his subjects and illustrations, instead of being regarded as genuine simplicity, had an appearance of silliness or affectation. The faults of his worst ballads were so glaring, that they overpowered, at least for a time, the simple natural beauties, the spirit of gentleness and humanity, with which they were accompanied. It was a first experiment, and it was made without any regard for existing prejudices or feelings, or any wish to conciliate. In 1798, Wordsworth, his sister, and Coleridge went to Germany, the latter parting from them at Hamburg, and going to Ratzeburg, where he resided four months; while the Wordsworths proceeded to Goslar, and remained there about half a year. On their return to England, they settled at Grasmere, in Westmoreland, where they lived for eight years. In 1800 he reprinted his Lyrical Ballads, with the addition of many new pieces, the work now forming two volumes. In October 1802, the poet was married to Mary Hutchinson, a lady with whom he had been early intimate, and on whom he wrote, in the third year of his married life, the exquisite lines, 'She was a Phantom of Delight.' She came, no more a Phantom to adorn The Prelude. In 1803, accompanied by Coleridge and his sister, Wordsworth made a tour in Scotland, which forms an epoch in his literary history, as it led to the production of some of his most popular minor poems. He had been for some years engaged on a poem in blank verse, The Prelude, or Growth of my own Mind, which he brought to a close in 1805, but it was not published till after his death. In 1805, also, he wrote his Waggoner, not published till 1819. Since Pope, no poet has been more careful of his fame than Wordsworth, and he was enabled to practise this abstinence in publication because, like Pope, he was content with moderate means and limited desires. His circumstances, however, were at this time so favourable, that he purchased for £1000, a small cottage and estate at the head of Ulleswater. Lord Lonsdale generously offered £800 to complete this purchase, but the poet accepted only of a fourth of the sum. In 1807 appeared two volumes of Poems from his pen. They were assailed with all the severity of criticism, but it was seen that, whatever might be the theory of the poet, he possessed a vein of pure and exalted description This respected lady died at Rydal Mount, January 17, 1859. For some years her powers of sight had entirely failed her, but she continued cheerful and 'bright,' and full of conversational power as in former days. and meditation which it was impossible not to feel and admire. The influence of nature upon man was his favourite theme; and though sometimes unintelligible from his idealism, he was also, on other occasions, just and profound. His worship of nature was ennobling and impressive. In 1809 the poet struck out into a new path. He came forward as a political writer, with an Essay on the Convention of Cintra, an event to which he was strongly opposed. His prose was as unsuccessful as his poetry, so far as sale was concerned, but there are fine vigorous passages in this pamphlet, and Canning is said to have pronounced it the most eloquent production since the days of Burke. Wordsworth had now abandoned his republican dreams, and was henceforward conservative of all time-honoured institutions in church and state. His views were never servile-they were those of a recluse politician, honest but impracticable. In the spring of 1813 occurred Wordsworth's removal from Grasmere to Rydal Mount, one of the grand events of his life; and there he resided for the long period of thirtyseven years-a period of cheerful and dignified poetical retirement Long have I loved what I behold, The night that calms, the day that cheers; Her humblest mirth and tears. The dragon's wing, the magic ring, With sympathetic heart may stray, The circle of his admirers was gradually extending, and he continued to supply it with fresh materials of a higher order. In 1814 appeared The Excursion, a philosophical poem in blank verse, by far the noblest production of the author, and containing passages of sentiment, description, and pure eloquence, not excelled by any living poet, while its spirit of enlightened humanity and Christian benevolence-extending over all ranks of sentient and animated being-imparts to the poem a peculiarly sacred and elevated character. The influence of Wordsworth on the poetry of his age has thus been as beneficial as extensive. He turned the public taste from pompous inanity to the study of man and nature; he banished the false and exaggerated style of character and emotion which even the genius of Byron stooped to imitate; and he enlisted the sensibilities and sympathies of his intellectual brethren in favour of the most expansive and kindly philanthropy. The pleasures and graces of his muse are all simple, pure, and lasting. In working out the plan of his Excursion, the poet has not, however, escaped from the errors of his early poems. The incongruity or want of keeping in most of Wordsworth's productions is observable in this work. The principal character is a poor Scotch pedler, who traverses the mountains in company with the poet, and is made to discourse, with clerk-like fluency, Of truth, of grandeur, beauty, love, and hope. It is thus that the poet violates the conventional rules of poetry and the realities of life; for surely it is inconsistent with truth and probability that a profound moralist and dialectician should be found in such a situation. In his travels with the 'Wanderer,' the poet is introduced to a 'Solitary,' who lives secluded from the world, after a life of busy |