725
The casement shade more luscious woodbine binds,
And to the door a neater pathway winds,
At early morn the careful housewife, led
To cull her dinner from it's garden bed,
Of weedless herbs a healthier prospect sees, 730
While hum with busier joy her happy bees;
In brighter rows her table wealth aspires,
And laugh with merrier blaze her evening fires;
Her infant's cheeks with fresher roses glow,
And wilder graces sport around their brow; 735
By clearer taper lit a cleanlier board
Receives at supper hour her tempting hoard;
The chamber hearth with fresher boughs is spread,
And whiter is the hospitable bed.
The casement shade more luscious woodbine binds,
And to the door a neater pathway winds,
At early morn the careful housewife, led
To cull her dinner from it's garden bed,
Of weedless herbs a healthier prospect sees, 730
While hum with busier joy her happy bees;
In brighter rows her table wealth aspires,
And laugh with merrier blaze her evening fires;
Her infant's cheeks with fresher roses glow,
And wilder graces sport around their brow; 735
By clearer taper lit a cleanlier board
Receives at supper hour her tempting hoard;
The chamber hearth with fresher boughs is spread,
And whiter is the hospitable bed.
Wordsworth - 1
--The tall Sun, tiptoe on an Alpine spire,
Flings o'er the desert blood-red streams of fire.
At such an hour there are who love to stray,
And meet the gladdening pilgrims on their way. 665
--Now with joy's tearful kiss each other greet,
Nor longer naked be your way-worn feet,
For ye have reach'd at last that happy shore,
Where the charm'd worm of pain shall gnaw no more.
How gayly murmur and how sweetly taste 670
The [Cc] fountains rear'd for you amid the waste!
Yes I will see you when ye first behold
Those turrets tipp'd by hope with morning gold,
And watch, while on your brows the cross ye make,
Round your pale eyes a wintry lustre wake. 675
--Without one hope her written griefs to blot,
Save in the land where all things are forgot,
My heart, alive to transports long unknown,
Half wishes your delusion were it's own.
Last let us turn to where Chamouny [Dd] shields, 680
Bosom'd in gloomy woods, her golden fields,
Five streams of ice amid her cots descend,
And with wild flowers and blooming orchards blend,
A scene more fair than what the Grecian feigns
Of purple lights and ever vernal plains. 685
Here lawns and shades by breezy rivulets fann'd,
Here all the Seasons revel hand in hand,
--Red stream the cottage lights; the landscape fades,
Erroneous wavering mid the twilight shades.
Alone ascends that mountain nam'd of white, [Ee] 690
That dallies with the Sun the summer night.
Six thousand years amid his lonely bounds
The voice of Ruin, day and night, resounds.
Where Horror-led his sea of ice assails,
Havoc and Chaos blast a thousand vales, 695
In waves, like two enormous serpents, wind
And drag their length of deluge train behind.
Between the pines enormous boughs descry'd
Serene he towers, in deepest purple dy'd;
Glad Day-light laughs upon his top of snow, 700
Glitter the stars above, and all is black below.
At such an hour I heav'd the human sigh,
When roar'd the sullen Arve in anger by,
That not for thee, delicious vale! unfold
Thy reddening orchards, and thy fields of gold; 705
That thou, the [Ff] slave of slaves, art doom'd to pine,
While no Italian arts their charms combine
To teach the skirt of thy dark cloud to shine;
For thy poor babes that, hurrying from the door,
With pale-blue hands, and eyes that fix'd implore, 710
Dead muttering lips, and hair of hungry white,
Besiege the traveller whom they half affright.
--Yes, were it mine, the cottage meal to share
Forc'd from my native mountains bleak and bare;
O'er [Gg] Anet's hopeless seas of marsh to stray, 715
Her shrill winds roaring round my lonely way;
To scent the sweets of Piedmont's breathing rose,
And orange gale that o'er Lugano blows;
In the wide range of many a weary round,
Still have my pilgrim feet unfailing found, 720
As despot courts their blaze of gems display,
Ev'n by the secret cottage far away
The lilly of domestic joy decay;
While Freedom's farthest hamlets blessings share,
Found still beneath her smile, and only there.
725
The casement shade more luscious woodbine binds,
And to the door a neater pathway winds,
At early morn the careful housewife, led
To cull her dinner from it's garden bed,
Of weedless herbs a healthier prospect sees, 730
While hum with busier joy her happy bees;
In brighter rows her table wealth aspires,
And laugh with merrier blaze her evening fires;
Her infant's cheeks with fresher roses glow,
And wilder graces sport around their brow; 735
By clearer taper lit a cleanlier board
Receives at supper hour her tempting hoard;
The chamber hearth with fresher boughs is spread,
And whiter is the hospitable bed.
--And thou! fair favoured region! which my soul 740
Shall love, till Life has broke her golden bowl,
Till Death's cold touch her cistern-wheel assail,
And vain regret and vain desire shall fail;
Tho' now, where erst the grey-clad peasant stray'd,
To break the quiet of the village shade 745
Gleam war's [Hh] discordant habits thro' the trees,
And the red banner mock the sullen breeze;
Tho' now no more thy maids their voices suit
To the low-warbled breath of twilight lute,
And heard, the pausing village hum between, 750
No solemn songstress lull the fading green,
Scared by the fife, and rumbling drum's alarms,
And the short thunder, and the flash of arms;
While, as Night bids the startling uproar die,
Sole sound, the [Ii] sourd renews his mournful cry: 755
--Yet, hast thou found that Freedom spreads her pow'r
Beyond the cottage hearth, the cottage door:
All nature smiles; and owns beneath her eyes
Her fields peculiar, and peculiar skies.
Yes, as I roam'd where Loiret's [Jj] waters glide 760
Thro' rustling aspins heard from side to side,
When from October clouds a milder light
Fell, where the blue flood rippled into white,
Methought from every cot the watchful bird
Crowed with ear-piercing power 'till then unheard; 765
Each clacking mill, that broke the murmuring streams,
Rock'd the charm'd thought in more delightful dreams;
Chasing those long long dreams the falling leaf
Awoke a fainter pang of moral grief;
The measured echo of the distant flail 770
Winded in sweeter cadence down the vale;
A more majestic tide the [Kk] water roll'd,
And glowed the sun-gilt groves in richer gold:
--Tho' Liberty shall soon, indignant, raise
Red on his hills his beacon's comet blaze; 775
Bid from on high his lonely cannon sound,
And on ten thousand hearths his shout rebound;
His larum-bell from village-tow'r to tow'r
Swing on th' astounded ear it's dull undying roar:
Yet, yet rejoice, tho' Pride's perverted ire 780
Rouze Hell's own aid, and wrap thy hills in fire.
Lo! from th' innocuous flames, a lovely birth!
With it's own Virtues springs another earth:
Nature, as in her prime, her virgin reign
Begins, and Love and Truth compose her train; 785
With pulseless hand, and fix'd unwearied gaze,
Unbreathing Justice her still beam surveys:
No more, along thy vales and viny groves,
Whole hamlets disappearing as he moves,
With cheeks o'erspread by smiles of baleful glow, 790
On his pale horse shall fell Consumption go.
Oh give, great God, to Freedom's waves to ride
Sublime o'er Conquest, Avarice, and Pride,
To break, the vales where Death with Famine scow'rs,
And dark Oppression builds her thick-ribb'd tow'rs; 795
Where Machination her fell soul resigns,
Fled panting to the centre of her mines;
Where Persecution decks with ghastly smiles
Her bed, his mountains mad Ambition piles;
Where Discord stalks dilating, every hour, 800
And crouching fearful at the feet of Pow'r,
Like Lightnings eager for th' almighty word,
Look up for sign of havoc, Fire, and Sword; [Ll]
--Give them, beneath their breast while Gladness springs,
To brood the nations o'er with Nile-like wings; 805
And grant that every sceptred child of clay,
Who cries, presumptuous, "here their tides shall stay,"
Swept in their anger from th' affrighted shore,
With all his creatures sink--to rise no more.
To-night, my friend, within this humble cot 810
Be the dead load of mortal ills forgot,
Renewing, when the rosy summits glow
At morn, our various journey, sad and slow.
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: All the notes to this reprint of the edition of 1793 are
Wordsworth's own, as given in that edition. --Ed. ]
[Footnote B: The lyre of Memnon is reported to have emitted melancholy
or chearful tones, as it was touched by the sun's evening or morning
rays. ]
[Footnote C: There are few people whom it may be necessary to inform,
that the sides of many of the post-roads in France are planted with a
row of trees. ]
[Footnote D: Alluding to crosses seen on the tops of the spiry rocks of
the Chartreuse, which have every appearance of being inaccessible. ]
[Footnote E: Names of rivers at the Chartreuse.
