The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 6 (of 8)

Name: The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 6 (of 8)
Author: Wordsworth, William

Wordsworth, William

English poetry -- 18th century; English poetry -- 19th century

'Mid the deep quiet of this morning hour,                     36
    All nature seems to hear me while I speak,
    By feelings urged that do not vainly seek
    Apt language, ready as the tuneful notes
    That stream in blithe succession from the throats             40
        Of birds, in leafy bower,
    Warbling a farewell to a vernal shower.
    --There is a radiant though[85] a short-lived flame,
    That burns for Poets in the dawning east;
    And oft my soul hath kindled at the same,                     45
    When the captivity of sleep had ceased;
    But He who fixed immoveably the frame
    Of the round world, and built, by laws as strong,
        A solid refuge for distress--
        The towers of righteousness;                              50
    He knows that from a holier altar came
    The quickening spark of this day's sacrifice;
    Knows that the source is nobler whence doth rise
        The current of this matin song;
          That deeper far it lies                                 55
    Than aught dependent on the fickle skies.


    III

    Have we not conquered?--by the vengeful sword?
    Ah no, by dint of Magnanimity;
    That curbed the baser passions, and left free
    A loyal band to follow their liege Lord,                      60
    Clear-sighted Honour, and his staid Compeers,
    Along a track of most unnatural years;[AS]
    In execution of heroic deeds
    Whose memory, spotless as the crystal beads
    Of morning dew upon the untrodden meads,                      65
    Shall live enrolled above the starry spheres.
    He, who in concert with an earthly string[86]
        Of Britain's acts would sing,
        He with enraptured voice will tell
    Of One whose spirit no reverse could quell;                   70
    Of One that 'mid the failing never failed[AT]--
    Who paints how Britain struggled and prevailed
    Shall represent her labouring with an eye
        Of circumspect humanity;
    Shall show her clothed with strength and skill,               75
        All martial duties to fulfil;
    Firm as a rock in stationary fight;
    In motion rapid as the lightning's gleam;
    Fierce as a flood-gate bursting at mid night[87]
    To rouse the wicked from their giddy dream--                  80
    Woe, woe to all that face her in the field!
    Appalled she may not be, and cannot yield.


    IV

        And thus is _missed_[88] the sole true glory
        That can belong to human story!
        At which they[89] only shall arrive                       85
        Who through the abyss of weakness dive.
    The very humblest are too proud of heart;
    And one brief day is rightly set apart
    For Him[90] who lifteth up and layeth low;
    For that Almighty God to whom we owe,                         90
    Say not that we have vanquished--but that we survive.


    V

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

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The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 6 (of 8)Wordsworth, William

General

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 6 (of 8)

Wordsworth, William

English poetry -- 18th century; English poetry -- 19th century

'Mid the deep quiet of this morning hour,                     36
    All nature seems to hear me while I speak,
    By feelings urged that do not vainly seek
    Apt language, ready as the tuneful notes
    That stream in blithe succession from the throats             40
        Of birds, in leafy bower,
    Warbling a farewell to a vernal shower.
    --There is a radiant though[85] a short-lived flame,
    That burns for Poets in the dawning east;
    And oft my soul hath kindled at the same,                     45
    When the captivity of sleep had ceased;
    But He who fixed immoveably the frame
    Of the round world, and built, by laws as strong,
        A solid refuge for distress--
        The towers of righteousness;                              50
    He knows that from a holier altar came
    The quickening spark of this day's sacrifice;
    Knows that the source is nobler whence doth rise
        The current of this matin song;
          That deeper far it lies                                 55
    Than aught dependent on the fickle skies.


    III

    Have we not conquered?--by the vengeful sword?
    Ah no, by dint of Magnanimity;
    That curbed the baser passions, and left free
    A loyal band to follow their liege Lord,                      60
    Clear-sighted Honour, and his staid Compeers,
    Along a track of most unnatural years;[AS]
    In execution of heroic deeds
    Whose memory, spotless as the crystal beads
    Of morning dew upon the untrodden meads,                      65
    Shall live enrolled above the starry spheres.
    He, who in concert with an earthly string[86]
        Of Britain's acts would sing,
        He with enraptured voice will tell
    Of One whose spirit no reverse could quell;                   70
    Of One that 'mid the failing never failed[AT]--
    Who paints how Britain struggled and prevailed
    Shall represent her labouring with an eye
        Of circumspect humanity;
    Shall show her clothed with strength and skill,               75
        All martial duties to fulfil;
    Firm as a rock in stationary fight;
    In motion rapid as the lightning's gleam;
    Fierce as a flood-gate bursting at mid night[87]
    To rouse the wicked from their giddy dream--                  80
    Woe, woe to all that face her in the field!
    Appalled she may not be, and cannot yield.


    IV

        And thus is _missed_[88] the sole true glory
        That can belong to human story!
        At which they[89] only shall arrive                       85
        Who through the abyss of weakness dive.
    The very humblest are too proud of heart;
    And one brief day is rightly set apart
    For Him[90] who lifteth up and layeth low;
    For that Almighty God to whom we owe,                         90
    Say not that we have vanquished--but that we survive.


    V

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 6 (of 8)

The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 6 (of 8)

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