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LIBERTY

No sheltering stone, no tangled root was near.
When fire or taper ceased to cheer the room,
They wore away the night in starless gloom;
And, when the sun first dawned upon the streams,
How faint their portion of his vital beams!
Thus, and unable to complain, they fared,
While not one joy of ours by them was shared.

Is there a cherished bird (I venture now

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To snatch a sprig from Chaucer's reverend brow)—
Is there a brilliant fondling of the cage,
Though sure of plaudits on his costly stage,
Though fed with dainties from the snow-white hand
Of a kind mistress, fairest of the land,
But gladly would escape; and, if need were,
Scatter the colours from the plumes that bear
The emancipated captive through blithe air
Into strange woods, where he at large may live
On best or worst which they and Nature give?
The beetle loves his unpretending track,
The snail the house he carries on his back;
The far-fetched worm with pleasure would disown
The bed we give him, though of softest down ;

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A noble instinct; in all kinds the same,

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All ranks ! What Sovereign, worthy of the name,

If doomed to breathe against his lawful will
An element that flatters him—to kill,
But would rejoice to barter outward show
For the least boon that freedom can bestow?

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*

But most the Bard is true to inborn right, Lark of the dawn, and Philomel of night, Exults in freedom, can with rapture vouch For the dear blessings of a lowly couch,

A natural meal—days, months, from Nature's hand; Time, place, and business, all at his command !– Who bends to happier duties, who more wise

See, in "The Canterbury Tales," The Squire's Tale, ll. 598-611.-ED.

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Than the industrious Poet, taught to prize,
Above all grandeur, a pure life uncrossed
By cares in which simplicity is lost?

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That life—the flowery path that1 winds by stealth-
Which Horace needed for his spirit's health;
Sighed for, in heart and genius, overcome
By noise and strife, and questions wearisome,
And the vain splendours of Imperial Rome?—†
Let easy mirth his social hours inspire,
And fiction animate his sportive lyre,
Attuned to verse that, crowning light Distress
With garlands, cheats her into happiness;

Give me the humblest note of those sad strains
Drawn forth by pressure of his gilded chains,
As a chance-sunbeam from his memory fell
Upon the Sabine farm he loved so well; ‡
Or when the prattle of Blandusia's spring §
Haunted his ear-he only listening-
He proud to please, above all rivals, fit
To win the palm of gaiety and wit;
He, doubt not, with involuntary dread,

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which

1835.

* These last five lines are amongst the best instances of Wordsworth's appreciation of one of his great predecessors. Compare the second of the two poems September 1819.-ED.

"The Sabine farm was situated in the valley of Ustica, thirty miles from Rome and twelve miles from Tivoli. It possessed the attraction, no small one to Horace, of being very secluded: yet, at the same time, within an easy distance of Rome. When his spirits wanted the stimulus of society or the bustle of the capital, which they often did, his ambling mule would speedily convey him thither; and when jaded, on the other hand, by the noise and racket and dissipations of Rome, he could, in the same homely way, bury himself in a few hours among the hills, and there, under the shadow of his favourite Lucretilis, or by the banks of the clear-flowing and ice-cold Digentia, either stretch himself to dream upon the grass, lulled by the murmurs of the stream, or do a little farming in the way of clearing his fields of stones, or turning over a furrow here and there with the hoe." (See Sir Theodore Martin's Horace, p. 68.)-ED.

See Horace, Odes, 11. 18

Satis beatus unicis Sabinis.

With what I have completely blest,
My happy little Sabine nest.

ED.

§ See Odes, 111. 13.-ED.

LIBERTY

Shrinking from each new favour to be shed,
By the world's Ruler, on his honoured head!

In a deep vision's intellectual scene,
Such earnest longings and regrets as keen
Depressed the melancholy Cowley, laid
Under a fancied yew-tree's luckless shade;
A doleful bower for penitential song,

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Where Man and Muse complained of mutual wrong;
While Cam's ideal current glided by,

And antique towers nodded their foreheads high,
Citadels dear to studious privacy.

But Fortune, who had long been used to sport
With this tried Servant of a thankless Court,
Relenting met his wishes; and to you

The remnant of his days at least was true;

You, whom, though long deserted, he loved best;
You, Muses, books, fields, liberty, and rest! *

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Far1 happier they who, fixing hope and aim

On the humanities of peaceful fame,

Enter betimes with more than martial fire

The generous course, aspire, and still aspire;
Upheld by warnings heeded not too late
Stifle the contradictions of their fate,

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And to one purpose cleave, their Being's godlike mate!

Thus, gifted Friend, but with the placid brow That woman ne'er should forfeit, keep thy vow; With modest scorn reject whate'er would blind The ethereal eyesight, cramp the wingèd mind! Then, with a blessing granted from above

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* Abraham Cowley (born 1618), educated at Westminster and Trinity College, Cambridge, a Royalist, and therefore expelled from Cambridge, settled in St. John's College, Oxford, crossed over with the Queen Mother to France for twelve years, returned at the Restoration, but was neglected at Court, and retired to a farm at Chertsey, on the Thames, where he lived for some years, "the melancholy Cowley."-ED.

To every act, word, thought, and look of love,
Life's book for Thee may lie unclosed, till age
Shall with a thankful tear bedrop its latest page. *

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HUMANITY1

Composed 1829.-Published 1835

Not from his fellows only man may learn
Rights to compare and duties to discern :
All creatures and all objects, in degree,

Are friends and patrons of humanity.-MS. 1835.

The Rocking-stones, alluded to in the beginning of the following verses, are supposed to have been used, by our British ancestors, both for judicial and religious purposes. Such stones are not uncommonly found, at this day, both in Great Britain and in Ireland.-W. W. 1835.

[These verses and those entitled "Liberty" were composed as one piece, which Mrs. Wordsworth complained of as unwieldy and ill-proportioned; and accordingly it was divided into two, on her judicious recommendation.-I. F.]

One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."-ED.

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HUMANITY.

(WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1829.)

1835.

* There is now, alas! no possibility of the anticipation, with which the above Epistle concludes, being realised: nor were the verses ever seen by the Individual for whom they were intended. She accompanied her husband, the Rev. Wm. Fletcher, to India, and died of cholera, at the age of thirty-two or thirty-three years, on her way from Shalapore to Bombay, deeply lamented by all who knew her.

Her enthusiasm was ardent, her piety steadfast; and her great talents would have enabled her to be eminently useful in the difficult path of life to which she had been called. The opinion she entertained of her own performances, given to the world under her maiden name, Jewsbury, was modest and humble, and, indeed, far below their merits; as is often the case with those who are making trial of their powers, with a hope to discover what they are best fitted for. In one quality, viz., quickness in the motions of her mind, she had,1 within the range of the Author's acquaintance, no equal. -W. W. 1835.

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She was in the author's estimation unequalled.

W. W. 1835.

HUMANITY

WHAT though the Accused, upon his own appeal
To righteous Gods when man has ceased to feel,
Or at a doubting Judge's stern command,
Before the STONE OF POWER no longer stand-
To take his sentence from the balanced Block,
As, at his touch, it rocks, or seems to rock;
Though, in the depths of sunless groves, no more
The Druid-priest the hallowed Oak adore ;
Yet, for the Initiate, rocks and whispering trees
Do still perform mysterious offices!

*

And functions dwell in beast and bird that sway
The reasoning mind, or with the fancy play,
Inviting, at all seasons, ears and eyes
To watch for undelusive auguries:-1
Not uninspired appear their simplest ways;
Their voices mount symbolical of praise-

To mix with hymns that Spirits make and hear;
And to fallen man their innocence is dear.
Enraptured Art draws from those sacred springs
Streams that reflect the poetry of things!
Where christian Martyrs stand in hues portrayed,
That, might a wish avail, would never fade,
Borne in their hands the lily and the palm
Shed round the altar a celestial calm;
There, too, behold the lamb and guileless dove
Prest in the tenderness of virgin love
To saintly bosoms !-Glorious in the blending
Of right affections climbing or descending

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offices!

And still in beast and bird a function dwells,
That, while we look and listen, sometimes tells
Upon the heart, in more authentic guise

Than Oracles, or wingèd Auguries,
Spake to the Science of the ancient wise.

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*There are several, so-called, "rocking-stones " in Yorkshire and Lancashire, in Derbyshire, in Cornwall, and in Wales. There are one or two in Scotland, and there used to be several in the Lake District. Some are natural; others artificial.-ED.

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