I had long been well acquainted with them, but I
was particularly struck on that occasion with the dignified simplicity
and majestic harmony that runs through most of them--in character so
totally different from the Italian, and still more so from Shakespeare's
fine sonnets.
was particularly struck on that occasion with the dignified simplicity
and majestic harmony that runs through most of them--in character so
totally different from the Italian, and still more so from Shakespeare's
fine sonnets.
William Wordsworth
How came he here?
thought I, or what can
he be doing? I then describe him, whether ill or well is not for me to
judge with perfect confidence; but this I _can_ confidently affirm,
that though I believe God has given me a strong imagination, I cannot
conceive a figure more impressive than that of an old man like this,
the survivor of a wife and ten children, travelling alone among the
mountains and all lonely places, carrying with him his own fortitude
and the necessities which an unjust state of society has laid upon
him. You speak of his speech as tedious. Every thing is tedious when
one does not read with the feelings of the author. 'The Thorn' is
tedious to hundreds; and so is 'The Idiot Boy' to hundreds. It is in
the character of the old man to tell his story, which an impatient
reader must feel tedious. But, good heavens! such a figure, in such a
place; a pious, self-respecting, miserably infirm and pleased old man
telling such a tale! "
Ed.
[Footnote A: It is unfortunate that in this, as in many other similar
occasions in these delightful volumes by the poet's nephew, the
reticence as to names--warrantable perhaps in 1851, so soon after the
poet's death--has now deprived the world of every means of knowing to
whom many of Wordsworth's letters were addressed. Professor Dowden asks
about it--and very naturally:
"Was it the letter to Mary and Sara" (Hutchinson) "about 'The
Leech-Gatherer,' mentioned in Dorothy's Journal of 14th June
1802? "
Ed. ]
* * * * *
"I GRIEVED FOR BUONAPARTE"
Composed May 21, 1802. --Published 1807 [A]
[In the cottage of Town-end, one afternoon in 1801, my sister read to me
the sonnets of Milton.
I had long been well acquainted with them, but I
was particularly struck on that occasion with the dignified simplicity
and majestic harmony that runs through most of them--in character so
totally different from the Italian, and still more so from Shakespeare's
fine sonnets. I took fire, if I may be allowed to say so, and produced
three sonnets the same afternoon, the first I ever wrote, except an
irregular one at school. Of these three the only one I distinctly
remember is 'I grieved for Buonaparte, etc. '; one of the others was
never written down; the third, which was I believe preserved, I cannot
particularise. --I. F. ]
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty," afterwards called "Poems
dedicated to National Independence and Liberty. " From the edition of
1815 onwards, it bore the title '1801'. --Ed.
I grieved for Buonaparte, with a vain
And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood [1]
Of that Man's mind--what can it be? what food
Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could _he_ gain?
'Tis not in battles that from youth we train 5
The Governor who must be wise and good,
And temper with the sternness of the brain
Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
Wisdom doth live with children round her knees:
Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk 10
Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk
Of the mind's business: these are the degrees
By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk
True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
he be doing? I then describe him, whether ill or well is not for me to
judge with perfect confidence; but this I _can_ confidently affirm,
that though I believe God has given me a strong imagination, I cannot
conceive a figure more impressive than that of an old man like this,
the survivor of a wife and ten children, travelling alone among the
mountains and all lonely places, carrying with him his own fortitude
and the necessities which an unjust state of society has laid upon
him. You speak of his speech as tedious. Every thing is tedious when
one does not read with the feelings of the author. 'The Thorn' is
tedious to hundreds; and so is 'The Idiot Boy' to hundreds. It is in
the character of the old man to tell his story, which an impatient
reader must feel tedious. But, good heavens! such a figure, in such a
place; a pious, self-respecting, miserably infirm and pleased old man
telling such a tale! "
Ed.
[Footnote A: It is unfortunate that in this, as in many other similar
occasions in these delightful volumes by the poet's nephew, the
reticence as to names--warrantable perhaps in 1851, so soon after the
poet's death--has now deprived the world of every means of knowing to
whom many of Wordsworth's letters were addressed. Professor Dowden asks
about it--and very naturally:
"Was it the letter to Mary and Sara" (Hutchinson) "about 'The
Leech-Gatherer,' mentioned in Dorothy's Journal of 14th June
1802? "
Ed. ]
* * * * *
"I GRIEVED FOR BUONAPARTE"
Composed May 21, 1802. --Published 1807 [A]
[In the cottage of Town-end, one afternoon in 1801, my sister read to me
the sonnets of Milton.
I had long been well acquainted with them, but I
was particularly struck on that occasion with the dignified simplicity
and majestic harmony that runs through most of them--in character so
totally different from the Italian, and still more so from Shakespeare's
fine sonnets. I took fire, if I may be allowed to say so, and produced
three sonnets the same afternoon, the first I ever wrote, except an
irregular one at school. Of these three the only one I distinctly
remember is 'I grieved for Buonaparte, etc. '; one of the others was
never written down; the third, which was I believe preserved, I cannot
particularise. --I. F. ]
One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty," afterwards called "Poems
dedicated to National Independence and Liberty. " From the edition of
1815 onwards, it bore the title '1801'. --Ed.
I grieved for Buonaparte, with a vain
And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood [1]
Of that Man's mind--what can it be? what food
Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could _he_ gain?
'Tis not in battles that from youth we train 5
The Governor who must be wise and good,
And temper with the sternness of the brain
Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
Wisdom doth live with children round her knees:
Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk 10
Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk
Of the mind's business: these are the degrees
By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk
True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
