Glance on the conscious plumes touched here and there?
Full surely, when with such proud gifts of life
Began the pencil's strife,

O'erweening Art was caught as in a snare.

A sense of seemingly presumptuous wrong
Gave the first impulse to the Poet's song;
But, of his scorn repenting soon, he drew
A juster judgment from a calmer view;
And, with a spirit freed from discontent,
Thankfully took an effort that was meant
Not with God's bounty, Nature's love, to vie,
Or made with hope to please that inward eye
Which ever strives in vain itself to satisfy,
But to recal the truth by some faint trace

Of power ethereal and celestial grace,

That in the living Creature find on earth a place.

1846.

The Poems of 1846, were limited to the lines beginning, "I know an aged man constrained to dwell," an "Evening Voluntary," six sonnets, and other two short pieces.

WHY SHOULD WE WEEP OR MOURN, ANGELIC

BOY.*

Comp. 1846.

Pub. 1850.

WHY should we weep or mourn, angelic boy,

For such thou wert ere from our sight removed,

...

* This sonnet refers to the poet's grandchild, who died at Rome in the beginning of 1846. Wordsworth wrote of it thus to Professor Henry Reed, “Jan. 23, 1846. . . . Our daughter-in-law fell into bad health between three and four years ago. She went with her husband to Madeira, where they remained nearly a year; she was then advised to go to Italy. After a prolonged residence there, her six children (whom her husband returned

Holy, and ever dutiful-beloved

From day to day, with never-ceasing joy,
And hopes as dear as could the heart employ
In aught to earth pertaining? Death has proved
His might, nor less his mercy, as behoved—
Death, conscious that he only could destroy
The bodily frame. That beauty is laid low
To moulder in a far-off field of Rome;

But Heaven is now, blest Child, thy Spirit's home:
When such divine communion, which we know,
Is felt, thy Roman-burial place will be
Surely a sweet remembrancer of Thee.

WHERE LIES THE TRUTH? HAS MAN, IN

WISDOM'S CREED.

Comp. 1846.

Pub. 1850.

WHERE lies the truth? has man, in wisdom's creed,

A pitiable doom; for respite brief

A care more anxious, or a heavier grief?

Is he ungrateful, and doth little heed

God's bounty, soon forgotten; or indeed,

Must Man, with labour born, awake to sorrow 1
When flowers rejoice, and larks with rival speed
Spring from their nests to bid the sun good-morrow?
They mount for rapture as their songs proclaim2

1 Who that lies down and may not wake to sorrow.
2 They mount for rapture; this their

MS.

MS.

to England for), went, at her earnest request, to that country, under their father's guidance; then he was obliged, on account of his duty as a clergyman, to leave them. Four of the number resided with their mother at Rome, three of whom took a fever there, of which the youngest-as noble a boy of five years as ever was seen-died, being seized with convulsions when the fever was somewhat subdued."-Ed.

Warbled in hearing both of earth and sky;

But o'er the contrast wherefore heave a sigh?
Like those aspirants let us soar-our aim,

Through life's worst trials, whether shocks or snares,
A happier, brighter, purer heaven than theirs.*

I KNOW AN AGED MAN CONSTRAINED TO DWELL.

Comp. 1846.

Pub. 1850.

I KNOW an aged Man constrained to dwell

In a large house of public charity,
Where he abides, as in a Prisoner's cell,

With numbers near, alas! no company.

When he could creep about, at will, though poor
And forced to live on alms, this old man fed
A Redbreast, one that to his cottage door
Came not, but in a lane partook his bread.

There, at the root of one particular tree,
An easy seat this worn-out Labourer found
While Robin pecked the crumbs upon his knee
Laid one by one, or scattered on the ground.

Dear intercourse was theirs, day after day;
What signs of mutual gladness when they met !
Think of their common peace, their simple play,
The parting moment and its fond regret.

This sonnet was suggested by the death of Wordsworth's grandson, commemorated in the previous sonnet, and by the alarming illness of his brother, the late Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, and the expected death of another grandson (John Wordsworth), at Ambleside, the only son of his eldest brother, Richard.-- ED.

170

HOW BEAUTIFUL THE QUEEN OF NIGHT, ON HIGH.

Months passed in love that failed not to fulfil,
In spite of season's change, its own demand,
By fluttering pinions here and busy bill;
There by caresses from a tremulous hand.

Thus in the chosen spot a tie so strong
Was formed between the solitary pair,
That when his fate had housed him mid a throng
The captive shunned all converse proffered there.

Wife, children, kindred, they were dead and gone;
But, if no evil hap his wishes crossed,

One living stay was left, and on that one
Some recompense for all that he had lost.

O that the good old man had power to prove,
By message sent through air or visible token,
That still he loves the Bird, and still must love;
That friendship lasts though fellowship is broken!

HOW BEAUTIFUL THE QUEEN OF NIGHT,

ON HIGH.

Comp. 1846.

Pub. 1850.

How beautiful the Queen of Night, on high
Her way pursuing among scattered clouds,
Where, ever and anon, her head she shrouds
Hidden from view in dense obscurity.
But look, and to the watchful eye

A brightening edge will indicate that soon
We shall behold the struggling Moon

Break forth,-again to walk the clear blue sky.

WHO BUT IS PLEASED TO WATCH THE MOON ON HIGH. 171

GIORDANO, verily thy Pencil's skill

Hath here portrayed with Nature's happiest grace
The fair Endymion couched on Latmos-hill;

And Dian gazing on the Shepherd's face

In rapture,

yet suspending her embrace,

As not unconscious with what power the thrill
Of her most timid touch his sleep would chase,
And, with his sleep, that beauty calm and still.
O may this work have found its last retreat
Here in a Mountain-bard's secure abode,
One to whom, yet a School-boy, Cynthia showed
A face of love which he in love would greet,
Fixed, by her smile, upon some rocky seat;
Or lured along where green-wood paths he trod.

RYDAL MOUNT, 1846.

WHO BUT IS PLEASED TO WATCH THE MOON

ON HIGH.

Comp. 1846.

Pub. 1850.

WHO but is pleased to watch the moon on high
Travelling where she from time to time enshrouds
Her head, and nothing loth her majesty

Renounces, till among the scattered clouds

*Lucca Giordano was born at Naples, in 1629. He was at first a disciple of Spagnaletto, next of Pietro da Cortona; but after coming under the influence of Corregio, he went to Venice, where Titian was his inspiring master. In his own work the influence of all of these predecessors may be traced, but chiefly that of Titian, whose style of colouring and composition he followed so closely that many of his works might be mistaken for those of his greatest master. The picture referred to in this sonnet was brought from Italy by the poet's eldest son.-ED.