Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and

Groves,

Forbode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish'd one delight

To live beneath your more habitual sway.

I love the brooks which down their channels fret
Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born day
Is lovely yet;

The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are

won.

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
1807.
William Wordsworth.

204

ODE TO DUTY

STERN Daughter of the voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;

Thou who art victory and law

When empty terrors overawe;

From vain temptations dost set free;

And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! 8

There are who ask not if thine eye
Be on them; who, in love and truth,
Where no misgiving is, rely

Upon the genial sense of youth:
Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot
Who do thy work, and know it not:

Oh! if through confidence misplaced

They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around

them cast.

Serene will be our days and bright,

And happy will our nature be,

When love is an unerring light,
And joy its own security.

And they a blissful course may hold
Even now, who, not unwisely bold,
Live in the spirit of this creed;

Yet seek thy firm support, according to their
need.

I, loving freedom, and untried;
No sport of every random gust,
Yet being to myself a guide,
Too blindly have reposed my trust:
And oft, when in my heart was heard
Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd

16

} 24

The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if

I may.

Through no disturbance of my soul,

Or strong compunction in me wrought,

32

I supplicate for thy control; But in the quietness of thought: Me this uncharter'd freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.

Stern lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace;
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face:

40

Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.

To humbler functions, awful Power!
I call thee: I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh, let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;
And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me

live.

1807.

William Wordsworth.

48

56

FRANCE: AN ODE

YE Clouds! that far above me float and pause, Whose pathless march no mortal may

control!

Ye Ocean Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws!

Ye Woods! that listen to the nightbirds'
singing,

Midway the smooth and perilous slope
reclined,

Save when your own imperious branches
swinging,

Have made a solemn music of the wind! Where, like a man beloved of God,

Through glooms, which never woodman trod, How oft, pursuing fancies holy,

My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,

Inspired, beyond the guess of folly,

By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!

O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!
And O ye Clouds that far above me soared!
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!
Yea, every thing that is and will be free!
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,
With what deep worship I have still adored
The spirit of divinest Liberty.

21

When France in wrath her giant-limbs up

reared,

And with that oath, which smote air, earth and sea,

Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free,

Bear witness for me, how I hoped and feared! With what a joy my lofty gratulation

Unawed I sang, amid a slavish band: And when to whelm the disenchanted nation, Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand, The Monarchs marched in evil day, And Britain join'd the dire array;

Though dear her shores and circling ocean, Though many friendships, many youthful loves Had swoln the patriot emotion

And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and

groves;

Yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat

To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance, And shame too long delay'd and vain retreat! For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim

I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame; But blessed the pæans of delivered France, And hung my head and wept at Britain's

name.

"And what," I said, "though Blasphemy's

loud scream

42

With that sweet music of deliverance strove!
Though all the fierce and drunken passions

Wove

« ZurückWeiter »