Selections from the poems of William Wordsworth, Esq. Chiefly for the use of schools and young persons

Front matter

SELECTIONS dfrom the ftatm* GF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, ESQ. CHIEFLY FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS AND YOUNG PERSONS. " Wherever I went, I found that Poetry was considered as the highest learning : and regarded with a veneration somewhat approachingto that which Man would pay to the Angelic nature." --Rasshlas. LO.NDON : EDWARD MOXON, 64, NEW BOND STREET. 1831. LONDON : BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, BOUVERIE STREET. DEDICATION. TO THE ADMIRERS OF MR. WORDSWORTH'S POETRY. I recommend these " Beauties " of Wordsworth to your especial consideration, not doubting but you will be as happy to accept as I am to present them. The work will patronize itself; it only remains for you to make it known. Many of you who, like myself, are employed in the honourable office of Tuition, will be enabled to gratify yourselves by putting into the hands of your pupils, of both sexes, this unexpected and valuable Selection ; by means of which you will inspire them, as you know by experience, with feelings and tastes noble, enviable, and virtuous, and will provide them with an introduction and a passport to rational and lasting enjoyment.

How grateful ought we to be to those immortal minds, that have spent their energies for our advantage, in bettering the situation of mankind by their divine labours ! That our living Poet may long share our love, admiration, and gratitude, with bis deceased predecessors, is the wish and prayer of, Ladies and Gentlemen, Your devoted fellow admirer, J. HINE. a

Preface

. ♦ The history of the following book is briefly this. — Having for many years been extensively engaged in the tuition of youth, I could not be ignorant of the great importance of good poetry in this office; whether by giving the pupil a relish for literature, in order to open, enlarge, and strengthen his mind ; or by awaken ing in him a sympathy for all truly desirable things, and producing a clearer perception of all moral and religious, all virtuous, principle. Under these necessi ties I have been accustomed to read, from the volumes of our great poets, such productions as 1 thought were suitable to the ends I had in view ; and I need scarcely say how great was the effect, when Mr. Wordsworth's poems were read : the pupils were in a glow of delight, and never failed to listen with much attention; were always deeply impressed with the matter, and eager to hear more; and numbers of them would apply to me to borrow the volume to read more and again. — " Upon this hint I spake."

I felt in my own case how advantageous it would be to have a selection from Mr. Wordsworth's writings, in the form and at the price of a class-book, so that a copy might be put into the hands of each pupil ; and other

PREFACE.

. VI conductors of schools, I doubted not, would stand in similar want, and might derive similar benefits. These had been my practices and opinions and wishes for many years ; without hope, however, (considering that Mr. Wordsworth is a living poet, and that his works sell high,) that, my wishes stood any proximate chance of beingrealized. These remote expectancies have become approaching realities. An opportunity offered of com municating with the poet ; who, in the most handsome manner, for which he has my gratitude and thanks,gave up all other considerations, with a permission to select, without limitation, from his entire works, such poems and parts of poems as might best answer the inten tions of the editor, who is almost ashamed and conscience stricken at the havock he has made in the five volumes of the author's works !

He is, however, somewhat reassured ; for they who prefer the works complete may procure them from the publishers, Longman and Co., to whom also are due the thanks of governesses, masters, parents, and youth, for this selection ; which, on account both of size, matter, and form, is entitled to claim admission into every private family, and every school in this and other countries where the English language, in its simpli city, force, purity, and elegance, is cultivated. It is well understood by schoolmasters, that there are few poets whose writings can be put into the hands of youth without proviso. Gay's Fables would be a useful book for the earlier stages of poetic read ings, did they not contain many examples of grossness and vulgarity not to be tolerated. A teacher is thus hampered ; for, in despite of the latitudinarians, evil

PREFACE.

. Ml communications corrupt good manners, and it is best to remove temptation. In this respect, Mr. Words worth's writings challenge minute scrutiny; he has an uncommon sympathy with all that conduces to the formation and preservation of purity in youth. The chastity and good taste that run through Mr. Words worth's poetry, independently of other high qualities, render it highly desirable for ladies' seminaries, and female perusal. A piece may be taken up and read aloud at any time, without being accessary to a blush, either on the cheek of the reader or on the cheek of others. Many may deem it superfluous that any thing should be said in defence of poetry, as an ingredient in the education of youth ; yet some men are so conformed to prejudice, and so exclusive by in struction, that they have pronounced poetry dan gerous.

We should always distinguish between the use and the abuse. The trifling, and, in many instan ces, vicious prattle contained in our school selections, has either given rise to, or strengthened these objec tions to poetry. An injudicious use even of that which is good, is to be deplored ; to use what is bad, doubly so. General truth and moral principle, conveyed through the medium of poetry, make a deeper and pleasanter impression than by any other means ; where a love of poetry in youth is joined to other pursuits, the best consequences must result ; in point of fact, no one can be said to be educated without this love. Musical truth is all but irresistible, and the poetical writings of Mr. Wordsworth will be found to contain the best maxims of life and death, of infancy, youth, and age, PKEFACE. vin for all ranks of men :— with every part of creation he sympathises, and assigns to each its proper regard, and he is laudably exclusive under his own poetical canon — He selves the muses erringly and ill, Whose aim is pleasure, light and fugitive.

Many, however, it must be confessed, serve the muse to no better purpose, and too many to much worse : but the poetry of Mr. Wordsworth is not thus debased ; it is with him Philosophy set to Music. Man requires stimulus; his passions must be roused as well as his reason directed. Nothing appears to be so well calculated for this end as the occasional reading of the Poets. In poetry the sense is quite martial, and comes upon us like a well-disciplined legion, firm, full, and measured. As kings usually select the tallest and stoutest men for soldiers, so do poets ransack the universe for the noblest creatures and images, and the most striking, strong, and beautiful thoughts and actions ; which they clothe, decorate, and marshal in the most graceful vestments, most lively colours, most captivating ornaments, and the most harmonious order.

And as soldiers are trained to the most stately motions to the sound of music, so does the poet put into like stately motion his bat talions ; hence a poem and an army are objects that captivate all beholders. Poetry leads to oratory ; he who has his mind stored with poetical images, and his heart stored with poetical feelings, is prepared to become an orator. It appears, therefore, that true oratory must be the result of true poetry; whoever, consequently, would

PREFACE.

. IX become an orator, must first become a poet, not in expression or the form of words, but in matter and feeling ■ in which process, the diligent perusal of Mr. Wordsworth's poetry will be especially serviceable : for where is the poet of our age (eminent as many deservedly are) that sympathizes with all parts of God's creation so deeply, widely, and highly, as he ? He has shown us, also, by his subdued and temperate style of expression, the difficulty not only of writing good poetry, but of reading it. Young people, as was before said, are particularly struck by hearing Mr. Wordsworth's verses when properly read ; when they are reflected from the mirror of simplicity, dignity, and power. I have seen many examples of this truth. Commonplace readers level all distinctions; they read all productions alike ; they attach the same degree of importance to every action, to all affections and pas sions, weak and strong, great and small.

A sublime poem, a patriotic oration, an epitaph, an invitation to " tea and supper," and a newspaper, are disposed of with the same degree of no meaning. In the high offices of church and state, how many fail to produce those effects that have been anticipated! — and for no other reason than because they neglected to cultivate poetry in their youth, and with it appropriate expression, the result of universal sympathy, and a quickness to discern that there were in the world other beings than themselves. Young teachers will perhaps par don this consequent advice, that they should, in order to fix the attention of their pupils, place themselves before their schools or classes with this selection in

PREFACE.

. Xll that, fifty or sixty years ago, our poetry had sunk to a depression at which fame was too cheaply acquired. Poetry, in the language of Milton, was nothing but "flats and shallows, ragged notions and babblements." But to the glory of a few spirits of this age, at the head of whom stands Mr. Wordsworth, these flats and shallows have been elevated and deepened, and the ragged notions and babblements repaired and rectified ; poetry has been rendered impassioned, philosophical and harmonious. With respect to the selection, I am far from giving myself credit for an unerring judgment ; yet having been guided by my own experience as a Teacher, I feel that I ought not to be accused of presumption, even by those who might have made, in many instances, a different choice. This book, I believe, stands every chance of being popular.

It was begun and finished upon principles the farthest in the world from low-minded selfishness, as its size, matter, and price, will abundantly testify. I have preferred, in general, entire pieces and long extracts to detached passages and brilliant thoughts ; because these never tell so forcibly, as when they stand in the company assigned them by their authors. Joseph Hine. Brixton Lodge, Surrey, May .Sill, 1831. CONTENTS. PAGE Dedication . . • • . in Preface . • • • The Blind Highland Boy . ■ • • ! The Mother's Return . . • . . 10 Lucy Gray My Heart Leaps . • • . . 14 We are Seven . 17 Power of Music . • • • Rural Architecture ■ • • .19 The Childless Father . . • . . 20 The Idiot Boy . . • ■ • 2l Influence of Natural Objects . • . . 36 The Affliction of Margaret . . ■ .38 Address to a Child 42 To a Butterfly .

The Pet Lamb • ■ ■ . . 43 46 Foresight . . contents. PACE 47 The Longest Day The Last of the Flock Laodamia 50 ,03 59 Dear Native Regions The Sailor's Mother 6ii The Cottager to her Infant . The Brothers 61 62 76 A Poet's Epitaph The Farmer of Tilsbury Vale The Old Cumberland Beggar Character of the Happy Warrior . Hopes what are they ? 79 82 88 90 Incident 92 To my Sister Fidelity 93 95 To the Daisy Hast thou seen Peter Bell 97 99 100 Resolution and Independence Nutting 138 143 The Emigrant Mother The Idle Shepherd-boys Written in March 145 148 151 Ode to Duty 152 Goody Blake and Harry Gill I Wandered Lonely 154 158 The Yew-tree Seat To the Cuckoo 159 161 Whirl Blast Michael 162 163 The Reverie of Poor Susan CONTENTS. XV PAGE 178 To the Small Celandine Composed at Cora Linn The Two Thieves 180 182 The Female Vagrant .

The Fountain 184 191 When to the Attractions The Two April Mornings Repentance 194 197 199 The Green Linnet 201 Animal Tranquillity and Decay Remembrance of Collins 202 203 Matthew, or the Schoolmaster Hart-leap Well . 204 205 I Travelled Among Unknown Men Ode . 212 213 To a Sky-Lark Star-Gazers 219 220 The Waterfall and Eglantine To the Spade of a Friend . 222 224 The Thorn . 225 Her Eyes are Wild 233 The Embowering Rose Stray Pleasures . 236 237 There was a Boy 238 Written in Germany 239 Expostulation and Reply The Tables Turned 241 242 Address to my Infant Daughter . Tintern Abbey 243 246 Miscellaneous Sonnets 251 Sonnets Dedicated to Liberty contents. PACK 287 288 300 302 305 308 315 316 Memorials of a Tour on the Continent Ecclesiastical Sketches Oh Sister, I could Prophecy ! From Cloudless Ether To the Rev. Dr. W , The River Duddon The Excursion — Dedication Book I The Wanderer Extract from Book IV. — Despondency Corrected . 344 Book VI The Church-yard among the Mountains 351 Book VII.— The Church-yaid among the Mountains K II II A T \ . | |\,.. v 101 H-IM1 --AD i 20 . . . iprlngi . sprigs <i . 36 . consort . oonocarl il . . 53 . . . forlorn, . . forlorn 0 ... 97 ■• The ...

Thy 8 . . . 103 . . . mangle . . mitipU' ig . . . 109 . . lawful . lawless •» . 131 . . . a . . . . an 27 . . 188 . . with drowsy . with his drowsy II , . . 252 . . shall I . .1 shall 17 . . 272 . . . reached . . reach M . . . 290 . . To moral . . To the moral 20 . . 291 . . . and . . . an 26 ... 29f> . . had . . . have 3 . . . 300 . . . no . . . on Ust Lint • • 3-r>7 • • nothing . . noting 21 . . . 359 . . . though . .. . through OP SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH, THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. A TALE TOLD BY THE FIRE-SIDE, AFTER RETURNING TO THE VALE GRASMERE. Now we are tired of boisterous joy, Have romped enough, my little Boy ! Jane hangs her head upon my breast, And you shall bring your stool and rest ; This corner is your own. There ! take your seat, and let me see That you can listen quietly ; And, as I promised, I will tell That strange adventure which befel A poor blind Highland Boy.

A Highland Boy ! — why call him so? Because, my Darlings, ye must know, In land where many a mountain towers, Far higher hills than these of ours ! He from his birth had lived. B He ne'er had seen one earthly sight ; The sun, the day ; the stars, the night ; Or tree, or butterfly, or flower, Or fish in stream, or bird in bower, Or woman, man, or child. And yet he neither drooped nor pined, Nor had a melancholy mind ; For God took pity on the Boy, And was his friend ; and gave him joy Of which we nothing know. His Mother, too, no doubt, above Her other Children him did love : For, was she here, or was she there, She thought of him with constant care, And more than Mother's love. And proud she was of heart, when clad In crimson stockings, tartan plaid, And bonnet with a feather gay, To Kirk he on the sabbath day Went hand in hand with her.

A Dog, too, had he ; not for need, But one to play with and to feed ; Which would have led him, if bereft Of company or friends, and left Without a better guide. And then the bagpipes he could blow ; And thus from house to house would go, And all were pleased to hear and see ; For none made sweeter melody Than did the poor blind Boy. THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. Yet he had many a restless dream ; Both when he heard the Eagles scream, And when he heard the torrents roar, And heard the water beat the shore Near which their Cottage stood. Beside a lake their Cottage stood, Not small like ours, a peaceful flood ; But one of mighty size, and strange ; That, rough or smooth, is full of change, And stirring in its bed. For to this Lake, by night and day, The great Sea-water finds its way Through long, long windings of the hills ; And drinks up all the pretty rills And rivers large and strong : Then hurries back the road it came — Returns, on errand still the same ; This did it when the earth was new ; And this for evermore will do, As long as earth shall last.

And with the coming of the Tide, Come Boats and Ships that safely ride, Between the woods and lofty rocks; And to the Shepherds with their flocks Bring tales of distant lands. And of those tales, whate'er they were, The blind Boy always had his share ; Whether of mighty Towns, or Vales With warmer suns and softer gales, Or wonders of the Deep. b THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. Yet more it pleased him, more it stirred, When from the water-side he heard The shouting, and the jolly cheers, The bustle of the mariners In stillness or in storm. But what do his desires avail ? For He must never handle sail ; Nor mount the mast, nor row, nor float In Sailor's ship, or Fisher's boat Upon the rocking waves. His Mother often thought, and said, What sin would be upon her head If she should suffer this : " My Son, Whate'er you do, leave this undone; The danger is so great."

Thus lived he by Loch Leven's side Still sounding with the sounding tide, And heard the billows leap and dance. Without a shadow of mischance, Till he was ten years old. When one day (and now mark me well Ye soon shall know how this befel) He in a vessel of his own, On the swift flood is hurrying down Towards the mighty Sea. In such a vessel never more May human Creature leave the shore f If this or that way he should stir, Woe to the poor blind Mariner ! For death will be his doom. THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. But say what bears him ? — Ye have seen The Indian's Bow, his arrows keen, Rare beasts, and birds with plumage bright ; Gifts which, for wonder or delight, Are brought in ships from far. Such gifts had those seafaring men Spread round that Haven in the glen ; Each hut, perchance, might have its own, And to the Boy they all were known ; He knew and prized them all.

The rarest was a Turtle Shell Which he, poor Child, had studied well ; A shell of ample size, and light As the pearly Car of Amphitrite, That sportive Dolphins drew. And, as a Coracle that braves On Vaga's breast the fretful waves, This Shell upon the deep would swim, And gaily lift its fearless brim Above the tossing surge. And this the little blind Boy knew : And he a story strange, yet true, Had heard, how in a Shell like this An English Boy, O thought of bliss ! Had stoutly launched from shore ; Launched from the margin of a bay Among the Indian Isles, where lay His Father's ship, and had sailed far, To join that gallant Ship of war, In his delightful Shell. Our Highland Boy oft visited The house which held this prize ; and, led By choice or chance, did thither come One day when no one was at home, And found the door unbarred.

While there he sate, alone and blind, That Story flashed upon his mind ; — A bold thought roused him, and he took The Shell from out its secret nook, And bore it on his head. He launched his Vessel — and in pride Of spirit, from Loch Leven's side, Stepped into it — his thoughts all free As the light breezes that with glee Sang through the Adventurer's hair. A while he stood upon his feet ; He felt the motion — took his seat ; Still better pleased as more and more The tide retreated from the shore, And sucked, and sucked him in. And there he is in face of Heaven. How rapidly the Child is driven ! The fourth part of a mile I ween He thus had gone, ere he was seen By any human eye. But when he was first seen, oh me What shrieking and what misery ! For many saw ; among the rest His Mother, she who loved him best, She saw her poor blind Boy.

THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. But for the Child, the sightless Boy, It is the triumph of his joy ! The bravest Traveller in balloon. Mounting as if to reach the moon, Was never half so blessed. And let him, let him go his way, Alone, and innocent, and gay ! For, if good Angels love to wait On the forlorn unfortunate, This Child will take no harm. But now the passionate lament, Which from the crowd on shore was sent, The cries which broke from old and young In Gaelic, or the English tongue, Are stifled — all is still. And quickly with a silent crew A Boat is ready to pursue ; And from the shore their course they take, And swiftly down the running Lake They follow the blind Boy. But soon they move with softer pace ; So have ye seen the fowler chase On Grasmere's clear unruffled breast A Youngling of the wild-duck's nest With deftly-lifted oar.

Or as the wily Sailors crept To seize (while on the Deep it slept) The hapless Creature which did dwell Erewhile within the dancing Shell, They steal upon their prey. With sound the least that can be made They follow, more and more afraid, More cautious as they draw more near ; But in his darkness he can hear, And guesses their intent. " Lei-gha — Lei-gha " — then did he cry " Lei-gha — Lei-gha" — most eagerly ; Thus did he cry, and thus did pray, And what he meant was, " Keep away, And leave me to myself!" Alas ! and when he felt their hands You've often heard of magic Wands, That with a motion overthrow A palace of the proudest show, Or melt it into air. So all his dreams, that inward light With which his soul had shone so bright, All vanished ; — 'twas a heartfelt cross To him, a heavy, bitter loss, As he had ever known.

But hark ! a gratulating voice With which the very hills rejoice : 'Tis from the crowd, who tremblingly Had watched the event, and now can see That he is safe at last. And then, when he was brought to land, Full sure they were a happy band, Which gathering round did on the banks Of that great Water give God thanks, And welcomed the poor Child. And in the general joy of heart The blind Boy's little Dog took part ; He leapt about, and oft did kiss His master's hands in sign of bliss, With sound like lamentation. But most of all, his Mother dear, She who had fainted with her fear, Rejoiced when waking she espies The Child ; when she can trust her eyes, And touches the blind Boy. She led him home, and wept amain, When he was in the house again : Tears flowed in torrents from her eyes ; She could not blame him, or chastise : She was too happy far.

Thus, after he had fondly braved The perilous Deep, the Boy was saved ; And, though his fancies had been wild, Yet he was pleased and reconciled To live in peace on shore. And in the lonely Highland Dell Still do they keep the Turtle Shell ; And long the story will repeat Of the blind Boy's adventurous feat, And how he was preserved. See note at the end of this poem in the Author's works, vol. iii. p. 56. B THE MOTHER'S RETURN. 10 THE MOTHER'S RETURN. A month, sweet Little-ones, is passed Since your dear Mother went away, — And she to-morrow will return ; To-morrow is the happy day. O blessed tidings ! thought of joy ! The eldest heard with steady glee ; Silent he stood ; then laughed amain, - And shouted, " Mother, come to me !' Louder and louder did he shout, With witless hope to bring her near ; " Nay, patience ! patience, little boy !

Your tender mother cannot hear.'' I told of hills, and far-off towns, And long, long vales to travel through; — He listens, puzzled, sore perplexed, But he submits ; what can he do ? No strife disturbs his Sister's breast ; She wars not with the mystery Of time and distance, night and day, The bonds of our humanity. Her joy is like an instinct, joy Of kitten, bird, or summer fly ; She dances, runs without an aim, She chatters in her ecstacy. THE MOTHER'S RETURN. Her Brother now takes up the note, And echoes back his Sister's glee ; They hug the Infant in my arms, As if to force his sympathy. Then, settling into fond discourse, We rested in the garden bower ; While sweetly shone the evening sun, In his departing hour. We told o'er all that we had done, — Our rambles by the swift brook's side Far as the willow-skirted pool, Where two fair swans together glide.

We talked of change, of winter gone, Of green leaves on the hawthorn spray, Of birds that build their nests and sing, And " all since Mother went away ! " To her these tales they will repeat, To her our new-born tribes will show, The goslings green, the ass's colt, The lambs that in the meadow go. — But, see, the evening Star comes forth ! To bed the Children must depart ; A moment's heaviness they feel, A sadness at the heart : 'Tis gone — and in a merry fit They run up stairs in gamesome race ; I, too, infected by their mood, I could have joined the wanton chase. LUCY GRAY. Five minutes past — and, O the change Asleep upon their beds they lie ; Their busy limbs in perfect rest, And closed the sparkling eye. LUCY GRAY. Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray : And, when I crossed the Wild, I chanced to see at break of day The solitary Child.

No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew ; She dwelt on a wide Moor, — The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door ! You yet may spy the Fawn at play, The Hare upon the Green ; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. " To-night will be a stormy night — You to the Town must go; And take a lantern, Child, to light Your mother through the snow." " That, Father ! will I gladly do : 'Tis scarcely afternoon — The Minster-clock has just struck two. And yonder is the Moon." ', LUCY GRAY. 13 At this the Father raised his hook, And snapped a faggot-band ; He plied his work ; — and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain roe : With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, That rises up like smoke. The storm came on before its time : She wandered up and down ; And many a hill did Lucy climb ; But never reached the town.

The wretched parents all that night Went shouting far and wide ; But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them for a guide. At day-break on a hill they stood That overlooked the Moor ; And thence they saw the Bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. They wept, and turning homeward, cried, " In Heaven we all shall meet :" — When in the snow the mother spied The print of Lucy's feet. Half breathless from the steep hill's edge They tracked the footmarks small ; And through the broken hawthorn-hedge, And by the long stonewall ; MY HEART LEAPS. And then an open field they crossed : The marks were still the same ; They tracked them on, nor ever lost ; And to the Bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank ; And further there were none ! — Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living Child ; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome Wild.

O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind ; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. MY HEART LEAPS. My heart leaps up when I behold A Rainbow in the sky ; So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a Man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die ! The Child is Father of the Man ; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. WE ARE SEVEN. WE ARE SEVEN. A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad : Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be ?