No More Learning

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.

. . . grief! the vital blood
Of that man's mind, what can it be? What food
Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could he gain? 1802.

. . . grief! for, who aspires
To genuine greatness but from just desires,
And knowledge such as _He_ could never gain? 1815. ]


* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: It had twice seen the light previously in 'The Morning
Post', first on September 16, 1802, unsigned, and again on January 29,
1803, when it was signed W. L. D. --Ed. ]


Wordsworth's date 1801, in the Fenwick note, should have been 1802. His
sister writes, in her Journal of 1802:

"May 21. --W. wrote two sonnets on Buonaparte, after I had read
Milton's sonnets to him. "

The "irregular" sonnet, written "at school," to which Wordsworth refers,
is probably the one published in the 'European Magazine' in 1787, vol.
xi. p. 202, and signed Axiologus. --Ed.





* * * * *





A FAREWELL


Composed May 29, 1802. --Published 1815


[Composed just before my Sister and I went to fetch Mrs. Wordsworth from
Gallow-hill, near Scarborough. --I. F. ]

This was one of the "Poems founded on the Affections. " It was published
in 1815 and in 1820 without a title, but with the sub-title 'Composed in
the Year 1802'. In 1827 and 1832 it was called 'A Farewell', to which
the sub-title was added. The sub-title was omitted in 1836, and
afterwards. --Ed.




Farewell, thou little Nook of mountain-ground,
Thou rocky corner in the lowest stair
Of that magnificent temple which doth bound
One side of our whole vale with grandeur rare;
Sweet garden-orchard, eminently fair, 5
The loveliest spot that man hath ever found,
Farewell! --we leave thee to Heaven's peaceful care,
Thee, and the Cottage which thou dost surround.

Our boat is safely anchored by the shore,
And there will safely ride [1] when we are gone; 10
The flowering shrubs that deck our humble door [2]
Will prosper, though untended and alone:
Fields, goods, and far-off chattels we have none:
These narrow bounds contain our private store
Of things earth makes, and sun doth shine upon; 15
Here are they in our sight--we have no more.

Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell!
For two months now in vain we shall be sought;
We leave you here in solitude to dwell
With these our latest gifts of tender thought; 20
Thou, like the morning, in thy saffron coat,
Bright gowan, and marsh-marigold, farewell!
Whom from the borders of the Lake we brought,
And placed together near our rocky Well.

We go for One to whom ye will be dear; 25
And she will prize this Bower, this Indian shed,
Our own contrivance, Building without peer!
--A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred,
Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered,
With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer, 30
Will come [3] to you; to you herself will wed;
And love the blessed life that [4] we lead here.

Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed,
Bringing thee chosen plants and blossoms blown
Among the distant mountains, flower and weed, 35
Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own.
Making all kindness registered and known;
Thou for our sakes, though Nature's child indeed,
Fair in thyself and beautiful alone,
Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need. 40

And O most constant, yet most fickle Place,
That hast thy wayward moods, as thou dost show
To them who look not daily on [5] thy face;
Who, being loved, in love no bounds dost know,
And say'st, when we forsake thee, "Let them go! " 45
Thou easy-hearted Thing, with thy wild race
Of weeds and flowers, till we return be slow,
And travel with the year at a soft pace.

Help us to tell Her tales of years gone by,
And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best; 50
Joy will be flown in its mortality;
Something must stay to tell us of the rest.
Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock's breast
Glittered at evening like a starry sky;
And in this bush our sparrow built her nest, 55
Of which I sang [6] one song that will not die. [A]

O happy Garden! whose seclusion deep
Hath been so friendly to industrious hours;
And to soft slumbers, that did gently steep
Our spirits, carrying with them dreams of flowers, 60
And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers;
Two burning months let summer overleap,
And, coming back with Her who will be ours,
Into thy bosom we again shall creep.


* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1836.

And safely she will ride . . . 1815.

. . . will she . . . 1832. ]


[Variant 2:

1836.

. . . that decorate our door 1815. ]


[Variant 3:

1820.

She'll come . . . 1815. ]


[Variant 4:

1827.

. . . which . . . 1815]


[Variant 5:

1827.

. . . in . . . 1815. ]


[Variant 6:

1832.

. . . sung . . . 1815. ]


* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: See 'The Sparrow's Nest', p. 236. --Ed. ]


"May 29. --William finished his poem on going for Mary. I wrote it out.
A sweet day. We nailed up the honeysuckle and hoed the scarlet beans. "

She added on the 31st,

"I wrote out the poem on our departure, which he seemed to have
finished;"

and on June 13th,

"William has been altering the poem to Mary this morning. "

The "little Nook of mountain-ground" is in much the same condition now,
as it was in 1802. The "flowering shrubs" and the "rocky well" still
exist, and "the steep rock's breast" is "thronged with primroses" in
spring. The "bower" is gone; but, where it used to be, a seat is now
erected.

The Dove Cottage orchard is excellently characterised in Mr. Stopford
Brooke's pamphlet describing it (1890). See also 'The Green Linnet', p.
367, with the note appended to it, and Dorothy Wordsworth's Grasmere
Journal, _passim_. --Ed.





* * * * *





"THE SUN HAS LONG BEEN SET"


Composed June 8, 1802. --Published 1807


[This _Impromptu_ appeared, many years ago, among the Author's poems,
from which, in subsequent editions, it was excluded. [A] It is
reprinted, at the request of the Friend in whose presence the lines were
thrown off. --I. F. ]

One of the "Evening Voluntaries. "--Ed.




The sun has long been set,
The stars are out by twos and threes,
The little birds are piping yet
Among the bushes and trees; [1]
There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, 5
And a far-off wind that rushes,
And a sound of water that gushes, [2]
And the cuckoo's sovereign cry
Fills all the hollow of the sky.

Who would go "parading" 10
In London, "and masquerading," [B]
On such a night of June
With that beautiful soft half-moon,
And all these innocent blisses?
On such a night as this is! 15


* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

. . . and the trees; 1836.

The edition of 1837 returns to the text of 1807. ]


[Variant 2:

1835.

And a noise of wind that rushes,
With a noise of water that gushes; 1807. ]


* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: It appeared in 1807 as No. II. of "Moods of my own Mind,"
and not again till the publication of "Yarrow Revisited" in 1835. --Ed. ]


[Footnote B: Compare:

'At operas and plays parading,
Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading. '

Burns, 'The Two Dogs, a Tale', II. 124-5. --Ed. ]


"June 8th (1802). --After tea William came out and walked, and wrote
that poem, 'The sun has long been set,' etc. He walked on our own
path, and wrote the lines; he called me into the orchard and there
repeated them to me. "

(Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal. ) The "Friend in whose presence the lines
were thrown off," was his sister. --Ed.





* * * * *





COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802


Composed July 31, 1802. --Published 1807


[Written on the roof of a coach, on my way to France. --I. F. ]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets. "--Ed.



Earth has not any thing to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul [1] who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, 5
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; 10
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!


* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

. . . heart . . . MS. ]



The date which Wordsworth gave to this sonnet on its first publication
in 1807, viz. September 3, 1803,--and which he retained in all
subsequent editions of his works till 1836,--is inaccurate. He left
London for Dover, on his way to Calais, on the 31st of July 1802. The
sonnet was written that morning as he travelled towards Dover. The
following record of the journey is preserved in his sister's Journal:

"July 30. [A]--Left London between five and six o'clock of the morning
outside the Dover coach. A beautiful morning. The city, St. Paul's,
with the river--a multitude of little boats, made a beautiful sight as
we crossed _Westminster Bridge_; the houses not overhung by their
clouds of smoke, and were hung out endlessly; yet the sun shone so
brightly, with such a pure light, that there was something like the
purity of one of Nature's own grand spectacles. "

This sonnet underwent no change in successive editions.

In illustration of it, an anecdote of the late Bishop of St. David's may
be given, as reported by Lord Coleridge.

"In the great debate on the abolition of the Irish Establishment in
1869, the Bishop of St. David's, Dr. Thirlwall, had made a very
remarkable speech, and had been kept till past daybreak in the House
of Lords, before the division was over, and he was able to walk home.
He was then an old man, and in failing health. Some time after, he was
asked whether he had not run some risk to his health, and whether he
did not feel much exhausted. 'Yes,' he said, 'perhaps so; but I was
more than repaid by walking out upon Westminster Bridge after the
division, seeing London in the morning light as Wordsworth saw it, and
repeating to myself his noble sonnet as I walked home. '"

This anecdote was told to the Wordsworth Society, at its meeting on the
3rd of May 1882, after a letter had been read by the Secretary, from Mr.
Robert Spence Watson, recording the following similar experience:

". . . As confirming the perfect truth of Wordsworth's description of
the external aspects of a scene, and the way in which he reached its
inmost soul, I may tell you what happened to me, and may have happened
to many others. Many years ago, I think it was in 1859, I chanced to
be passing (in a pained and depressed state of mind, occasioned by the
death of a friend) over Waterloo Bridge at half-past three on a lovely
June morning. It was broad daylight, and I was alone. Never when alone
in the remotest recesses of the Alps, with nothing around me but the
mountains, or upon the plains of Africa, alone with the wonderful
glory of the southern night, have I seen anything to approach the
solemnity--the soothing solemnity--of the city, sleeping under the
early sun:

'Earth has not any thing to show more fair. '

"How simply, yet how perfectly, Wordsworth has interpreted it!
It was
a happy thing for us that the Dover coach left at so untimely an hour.
It was this sonnet, I think, that first opened my eyes to Wordsworth's
greatness as a poet. Perhaps nothing that he has written shows more
strikingly the vast sympathy which is his peculiar dower. "

Ed.

[Footnote A: This is an error of date. Saturday, the day of their
departure from London, was the 31st of July. --Ed. ]





* * * * *





COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SIDE, NEAR CALAIS, AUGUST, 1802


Composed August, 1802. --Published 1807


One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems
dedicated to National Independence and Liberty. "--Ed.




Fair Star of evening, Splendour of the west,
Star of my Country! --on the horizon's brink
Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem, to sink
On England's bosom; yet well pleased to rest,
Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest 5
Conspicuous to the Nations. Thou, I think,
Should'st be my Country's emblem; and should'st wink,
Bright Star! with laughter on her banners, drest
In thy fresh beauty. There! that dusky spot
Beneath thee, that is England; there she lies. [1] 10
Blessings be on you both! one hope, one lot,
One life, one glory! --I, with many a fear
For my dear Country, many heartfelt sighs,
Among men who do not love her, linger here.


* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

. . . it is England; there it lies. 1807. ]


This sonnet, and the seven that follow it, were written during
Wordsworth's residence at Calais, in the month of August, 1802. The
following extract from his sister's Journal illustrates it:

"We arrived at _Calais_ at four o'clock on Sunday morning the 31st of
July. We had delightful walks after the heat of the day was
passed--seeing far off in the west the coast of England, like a cloud,
crested with Dover Castle, the evening Star, and the glory of the sky;
the reflections in the water were more beautiful than the sky itself;
purple waves brighter than precious stones, for ever melting away upon
the sands. "

Ed.





* * * * *





CALAIS, AUGUST, 1802


Composed August 7, 1802--Published 1807 [A]


One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems
dedicated to National Independence and Liberty. "--Ed.




Is it a reed that's shaken by the wind,
Or what is it that ye go forth to see?
Lords, lawyers, statesmen, squires of low degree,
Men known, and men unknown, sick, lame, and blind,
Post forward all, like creatures of one kind, 5
With first-fruit offerings crowd to bend the knee
In France, before the new-born Majesty.
'Tis ever thus. Ye men of prostrate mind, [1]
A seemly reverence may be paid to power;
But that's a loyal virtue, never sown 10
In haste, nor springing with a transient shower:
When truth, when sense, when liberty were flown,
What hardship had it been to wait an hour?
Shame on you, feeble Heads, to slavery prone!


* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

Thus fares it ever. Men of prostrate mind! 1803. ]


* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: This sonnet was first published in 'The Morning Post', Jan.
29, 1803, under the signature W. L. D. , along with the one beginning, "I
grieved for Buonaparte, with a vain," and was afterwards printed in the
1807 edition of the Poems. Mr. T. Hutchinson (Dublin) suggests that the
W. L. D. stood either for _Wordsworthius Libertatis Defensor_, or (more
likely) _Wordsworthii Libertati Dedicatunt_ (carmen). --Ed. ]





* * * * *





COMPOSED NEAR CALAIS, ON THE ROAD LEADING TO ARDRES, AUGUST 7, 1802 [A]


Composed August, 1802. --Published 1807


One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems
dedicated to National Independence and Liberty. "--Ed.




Jones! as [1] from Calais southward you and I
Went pacing side by side, this public Way
Streamed with the pomp of a too-credulous day, [B]
When faith was pledged to new-born Liberty: [2]
A homeless sound of joy was in the sky: 5
From hour to hour the antiquated Earth, [3]
Beat like the heart of Man: songs, garlands, mirth, [4]
Banners, and happy faces, far and nigh!
And now, sole register that these things were,
Two solitary greetings have I heard, 10
"_Good morrow, Citizen! _" a hollow word,
As if a dead man spake it! Yet despair
Touches me not, though pensive as a bird
Whose vernal coverts winter hath laid bare. [5]


* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1837.

. . . when . . . 1807.

. . . while . . . 1820. ]


[Variant 2:

1837.

Travell'd on foot together; then this Way,
Which I am pacing now, was like the May
With festivals of new-born Liberty: 1807.

Where I am walking now . . . MS.

Urged our accordant steps, this public Way
Streamed with the pomp of a too-credulous day,
When faith was pledged to new-born Liberty: 1820. ]


[Variant 3:

1845.

The antiquated Earth, as one might say, 1807.

The antiquated Earth, hopeful and gay, 1837. ]


[Variant 4:

1845.

. . . garlands, play, 1807. ]


[Variant 5:

1827.

I feel not: happy am I as a Bird:
Fair seasons yet will come, and hopes as fair. 1807.

I feel not: jocund as a warbling Bird; 1820. ]


* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: In the editions of 1807 to 1837 this is a sub-title, the
chief title being 'To a Friend'. In the editions of 1840-1843, the chief
title is retained in the Table of Contents, but is erased in the
text. --Ed. ]


[Footnote B: 14th July 1790. --W. W. 1820. ]


This sonnet, originally entitled 'To a Friend, composed near Calais, on
the Road leading to Ardres, August 7th, 1802', was addressed to Robert
Jones, of Plas-yn-llan, near Ruthin, Denbighshire, a brother collegian
at Cambridge, and afterwards a fellow of St. John's College, and
incumbent of Soulderne, near Deddington, in Oxfordshire. It was to him
that Wordsworth dedicated his 'Descriptive Sketches', which record their
wanderings together in Switzerland; and it is to the pedestrian tour,
undertaken by the two friends in the long vacation of 1790, that he
refers in the above sonnet. The character of Jones is sketched in the
poem written in 1800, beginning:

'I marvel how Nature could ever find space,' [A]

and his parsonage in Oxfordshire is described in the sonnet--

'Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends,
Is marked by no distinguishable line. '

The following note on Jones was appended to the edition of
1837:

"This excellent Person, one of my earliest and dearest friends, died
in the year 1835. We were under-graduates together of the same year,
at the same college; and companions in many a delightful ramble
through his own romantic Country of North Wales. Much of the latter
part of his life he passed in comparative solitude; which I know was
often cheered by remembrance of our youthful adventures, and of the
beautiful regions which, at home and abroad, we had visited together.
Our long friendship was never subject to a moment's
interruption,--and, while revising these volumes for the last time, I
have been so often reminded of my loss, with a not unpleasing sadness,
that I trust the Reader will excuse this passing mention of a Man who
well deserves from me something more than so brief a notice. Let me
only add, that during the middle part of his life he resided many
years (as Incumbent of the Living) at a Parsonage in Oxfordshire,
which is the subject of one of the 'Miscellaneous Sonnets. '"

Ed.


[Footnote A: See p. 208 ['A Character']. --Ed. ]





* * * * *





CALAIS, AUGUST 15, 1802


Composed August 15, 1802. --Published 1807 [A]


One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems
dedicated to National Independence and Liberty. "--Ed.



Festivals have I seen that were not names:
This is young Buonaparte's natal day,
And his is henceforth an established sway--
Consul for life. With worship France proclaims
Her approbation, and with pomps and games. 5
Heaven grant that other Cities may be gay!
Calais is not: and I have bent my way
To the [1] sea-coast, noting that each man frames
His business as he likes. Far other show
My youth here witnessed, in a prouder time; [2] 10
The senselessness of joy was then sublime!
Happy is he, who, caring not for Pope,
Consul, or King, can sound himself to know
The destiny of Man, and live in hope.


* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

. . . this . . . 1803. ]


[Variant 2:

1827.

. . . Another time
That was, when I was here twelve years ago. 1803.

. . . long years ago: 1807.

. . . Far different time
That was, which here I witnessed, long ago; 1820. ]


* * * * *

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: It had appeared in 'The Morning Post', February 26, 1803,
under the initials W. L. D. --Ed. ]





* * * * *





"IT IS A BEAUTEOUS EVENING, CALM AND FREE"


Composed August, 1802. --Published 1807


[This was composed on the beach near Calais, in the autumn of 1802. --I.
F. ]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets. " In 1807 it was No. 19 of that
series. --Ed.




It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, [1]
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: [2] 5
Listen! [3] the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder--everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, [A]
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, [4] 10
Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;
And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not. [B]


* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

Air sleeps,--from strife or stir the clouds are free; 1837.

A fairer face of evening cannot be; 1840.

The text of 1845 returns to that of 1807. ]


[Variant 2:

1837.

. . . is on the Sea: 1807. ]


[Variant 3:

1807.

But list! . . . 1837.

The text of 1840 returns to that of 1807. ]


[Variant 4:

1845.

Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear'st untouch'd by solemn thought, 1807.

Dear Child! dear happy Girl! if thou appear
Heedless--untouched with awe or serious thought, 1837.

Heedless-unawed, untouched with serious thought, 1838.

The text of 1840 returns to that of 1807. ]


* * * * *

FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: I thought, for some time, that the "girl" referred to was
Dorothy Wordsworth. Her brother used to speak, and to write, of her
under many names, "Emily," "Louisa," etc. ; and to call her a "child" in
1802--a "child of Nature" she was to the end of her days--or a "girl,"
seemed quite natural. However, a more probable suggestion was made by
Mr. T. Hutchinson to Professor Dowden, that it refers to the girl
Caroline mentioned in Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal.

"We arrived at Calais at four o'clock on Sunday morning, the 3rd of
July. . . . We found out Annette and C. , chez Madame Avril dans la rue de
la Tete d'or. The weather was very hot. We walked by the shore almost
every evening with Annette and Caroline, or William and I alone.