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treatise on the principles of government and nationality men, they have no wings to fly from God: war is his as applied to the affairs of Spain and Portugal during beadle, war is his vengeance." Act IV., Scene I.— the Peninsular War.-H. R.] H. R.]

Page 260.

"O'er the wide earth, on mountain and on plain." [That thoughtful and eloquent writer, the younger Aubrey De Vere, in quoting this sonnet, has accompanied it with the following classical comment:

"The fact that defensive wars are religious wars, and assisted by religious sanctions, is in no instance more remarkably illustrated than in the glorious defence of Greece against Persia. Among the instances of supernatural aid by which the righteous cause was supposed to have been vindicated, perhaps the most remarkable was the interference of the god Pan, who had promised to leave his Arcadian retreats, and to help the Athenians at Marathon. It was in commemoration of such aid that the Athenians dedicated to that pastoral, and not less mystical divinity, the cave in the rocky foundations of the Acropolis, which still bears his name. As I gazed on that cave, I could not but call to mind that the support which the Athenians believed they had received, was no other than that to which Wordsworth appealed on behalf of the Tyrolese. The circumstance is a singular instance of that analogy of thought which is to be found in all places and at all times, when great minds are moved by great events. The deepest poet of modern times uttering, in his 'Sonnets Dedicated to Liberty, his solemn and authoritative protest against the aggressive tyranny of Buonaparte, and exhorting each nation of Europe, in turn, to withstand that aggression to the death, admonishes them likewise that

The power of armies is a visible thing, Formal and circumscribed in time and place.'

And bids them place their trust in that universal principle of Strength, Justice and Immortality, of which the soul of man is the special abode, and of which Pan was a Pagan type." Aubrey De Vere's Picturesque Sketches of Greece and Turkey, Vol. I., p. 204, Chap. viii.-H. R.]

Page 273. "Perilous is sweeping change, all chance unsound." "All change is perilous, and all chance unsound." SPENSER.

Page 278. Sonnet 1.

If in this Sonnet I should seem to have borne a little too hard upon the personal appearance of the worthy Poissards of Calais, let me take shelter under the authority of my lamented friend, the late Sir George Benumont. He, a most accurate observer, used to say of them, that their features and countenances seemed to have conformed to those of the creatures they dealt in; at all events the resemblance was striking.

Page 321.

It would be ungenerous not to advert to the religious movement that, since the composition of these verses in 1837, has made itself felt, more or less strongly, throughout the English Church; — a movement that takes, for its first principle, a devout deference to the voice of Christian antiquity. It is not my office to pass judgment on questions of theological detail; but my own repug. nance to the spirit and system of Romanism has been so repeatedly and, I trust, feelingly expressed, that I shall not be suspected of a leaning that way, if I do not join in the grave charge, thrown out, perhaps in the heat of controversy, against the learned and pious men to whose labours I allude. I speak apart from controversy; but, with strong faith in the moral temper which would elevate the present by doing reverence to the past, I would draw cheerful auguries for the English Church from this movement, as likely to restore among us a tone of piety more earnest and real, than that produced by the mere formalities of the understanding, refusing, in a degree, which I cannot but lament, that its own temper and judgment shall be controlled by those of antiquity. [1842.]


Page 321.

Page 260.

Within a couple of hours of my arrival ¿‹ Rome, I saw from Monte Pincio, the Pine tree as described in

In this Sonnet I am under some obligations to one of the sonnet; and, while expressing admiration at the an Italian author, to which I cannot refer.

beauty of its appearance, I was told by an acquaintance of my fellow-traveller, who happened to join us at the moment, that a price had been paid for it by the late Sir G. Beaumont, upon condition that the proprietor should not act upon his known intention of cutting it down.

Page 270-1. "Thanksgiving Ode."

Stanza XIL

[The poetical figures, which once were objected to as expressing too strongly the idea of this stanza, are not without a parallel in Shakspeare, in that passage of "Henry the Fifth," where the king is represented saying, " if these men have defeated law, and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip

Page 325. "Camaldoli."

This famous sanctuary was the original establishment of Saint Romualdo, (or Rumwald, as our ancestors saxonised the name) in the 11th century, the ground

(campo) being given by a Count Maldo. The Camaldolensi, however, have spread wide as a branch of Benedictines, and may therefore be classed among the gentlemen of the monastic orders. The society comprehends two orders, monks and hermits; symbolised by their arms, two doves drinking out of the same cup. The monastery in which the monks here reside, is beautifully situated, but a large unattractive edifice, not unlike a factory. The hermitage is placed in a loftier and wilder region of the forest. It comprehends between 20 and 30 distinct residences, each including for its single hermit an inclosed piece of ground and three very small apartments. There are days of indulgence when the hermit may quit his cell, and when old age arrives, he descends from the mountain and takes his abode among the monks.

My companion had, in the year 1831, fallen in with the monk, the subject of these two sonnets, who showed him his abode among the hermits. It is from him that I received the following particulars. He was then about 40 years of age, but his appearance was that of an older man. He had been a painter by profession, The name of Milton is pleasingly connected wit but on taking orders changed his name from Santi to Vallombrosa in many ways. The pride with which the Raffaello, perhaps with an unconscious reference as Monk, without any previous question from me, pointed well to the great Sanzio d'Urbino as to the archangel. out his residence, I shall not readily forget. It may be He assured my friend that he had been 13 years in the proper here to defend the Poet from a charge which hermitage and had never known melancholy or ennui. has been brought against him, in respect to the passage In the little recess for study and prayer, there was a in "Paradise Lost," where this place is mentioned. It small collection of books. "I read only," said he, is said, that he has erred in speaking of the trees there "books of asceticism and mystical theology." On being being deciduous, whereas they are, in fact, pines. The asked the names of the most famous mystics, he enume- fault-finders are themselves mistaken; the natural rated Scaramelli, San Giovanni della Croce, St. Diony-woods of the region of Vallombrosa are deciduous, and sius the Areopagite (supposing the work which bears spread to a great extent; those near the convent are, his name to be really his), and with peculiar emphasis indeed, mostly pines; but they are avenues of trees Ricardo di San Vittori. The works of Saint Theresa planted within a few steps of each other, and thus comare also in high repute among ascetics. These names posing large tracts of wood; plots of which are pemay interest some of my readers. riodically cut down. The appearance of those narrow avenues, upon steep slopes open to the sky, on account of the height which the trees attain by being forced to grow upwards, is often very impressive. My guide, a boy of about fourteen years old, pointed this out to me in several places.

We heard that Raffaello was then living in the convent; my friend sought in vain to renew his acquaintance with him. It was probably a day of seclusion. The reader will perceive that these sonnets were supposed to be written when he was a young man.

Page 325.

"What aim had they the pair of Monks?" In justice to the Benedictines of Camaldoli, by whom strangers are so hospitably entertained, I feel obliged to notice, that I saw among them no other figures at all resembling, in size and complexion, the two Monks described in this Sonnet. What was their office, or the

motive which brought them to this place of mortification, which they could not have approached without being carried in this or some other way, a feeling of delicacy prevented me from inquiring. An account has before been given of the hermitage they were about to enter. It was visited by us toward the end of the month of May; yet snow was lying thick under the pine-trees, within a few yards of the gate.

Page 325.

"At Vallombrosa.”

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[The Author's political Work on "The Relations of are united, will have a firm mind, in whatever emGreat Britain, Spain and Portugal," (referred to at barrassments he may be placed; will look steadily at p. 259, and in the Notes, pp. 377 and 389,) has become the most undefined shapes of difficulty and danger, of so rare a volume that I insert here the two following possible mistake or mischance; nor will they appear to extracts, not only on account of the valuable truths him more formidable than they really are. For his expressed in them, but also as having an especial attention is not distracted - he has but one business, interest for the American reader. and that is with the object before him. Neither in Treating of the qualifications needed by military general conduct nor in particular emergencies, are his men, as "heads of an army," Wordsworth speaks of,-plans subservient to considerations of rewards, estate * * that or title: these are not to have precedence in his thoughts, to govern his actions, but to follow in the train of his duty. Such men in ancient times, were Phocion, Epaminondas, and Philopamen; and such a man was Sir Philip Sidney, of whom it has been said, that he first taught his country the majesty of honest dealing. With these may be named the honour of our own age, Washington, the deliverer of the American Continent; with these, though in many things unlike, Lord Nelson, whom we have lately lost. Lord Peterborough, who fought in Spain a hundred years ago, had the same excellence with a sense of exalted honour, and a tinge of romantic enthusiasm, well suited to the country which Pages 54-5-6.

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* intellectual courage higher quality, which is never found without one or other of the three accompaniments, talents, genius, or principle; talents matured by experience, without which it cannot exist at all; or the rapid insight of peculiar genins, by which the fitness of an act may be instantly determined, and which will supply higher motives than mere talents can furnish for encountering difficulty and danger, and will suggest better resources for diminishing or overcoming them. Thus, through the power of genius, this quality of intellectual courage may exist in an eminent degree, though the moral character be greatly perverted; as in those personages who are so conspicuous in history, conquerors and was the scene of his exploits." usurpers, the Alexanders, the Caesars and Cromwells; and in that other class still more perverted, remorseless and energetic minds, the Catilines, and Borgias, whom Our duty is our aim ought to be-to poets have denominated "bold bad men." But though employ the true means of liberty and virtue for the ends a course of depravity will neither preclude nor destroy of liberty and virtue. In such policy, thoroughly underthis quality, nay, in certain circumstances will give it stood, there is fitness and concord and rational subordinaa peculiar promptness and hardihood of decision, it is tion; it deserves a higher name-organization, health, not on this account the less true, that to consummate and grandeur. Contrast, in a single instance, the two this species of courage, and to render it equal to all processes; and the qualifications which they require. occasions (especially when a man is not acting for him- The ministers of that period found it an easy task to self, but has an additional claim on his resolution from hire a band of Hessians, and to send it across the the circumstance of responsibility to a superior), princi- Atlantic, that they might assist in bringing the ple is indispensably requisite. I mean that fixed and Americans (according to the phrase then prevalent) to habitual principle, which implies the absence of all selfish | reason. The force with which these troops would anticipations, whether of hope or fear, and the inward attack was gross-tangible-and might be calculated; disavowal of any tribunal higher and more dreaded than but the spirit of resistance, which their presence would the mind's own judgment upon its own act. The ex- create, was subtle - etlrerealmighty-and incalcuistence of such principle cannot but elevate the most lable. Accordingly, from the moment when these commanding genius, add rapidity to the quickest glance, foreigners landed men who had no interest, no busia wider range to the most ample comprehension; but ness in the quarrel, but what the wages of their master without this principle, the ordinary powers must, in the bound them to, and he imposed upon his miserable trying hour, be found utterly wanting. Neither with- slaves; - nay, from the first rumour of their destinaout it can the man of excelling powers be trust-worthy, tion, the success of the British was (as has since been or have at all times a calm and confident repose in affirmed by judicious Americans) impossible." Page himself. But he, in whom talents, genius, and principle | 139-40.- H. R.]



EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY. "WHY, William, on that old gray stone, Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone, And dream your time away?

Where are your books?that light bequeathed

To beings else forlorn and blind!

Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed
From dead men to their kind.

You look round on your mother Earth,
As if she for no purpose bore you;
As if you were her first-born birth,
And none had lived before you!"

One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake, When life was sweet, I knew not why, To me my good friend Matthew spake, And thus I made reply:

"The eye-it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against, or with our will.

Nor less I deem that there are Powers
Which of themselves our minds impress;
That we can feed this mind of ours
In a wise passiveness.


Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum
Of things for ever speaking,
That nothing of itself will come,
But we must still be seeking?

-Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, Conversing as I may,

I sit upon this old gray stone,

And dream my time away."



UP! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you 'll grow
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?

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See that Fly, a disconsolate creature! perhaps
A child of the field or the grove;
And, sorrow for him! the dull treacherous heat
Has seduced the poor fool from his winter retreat,
And he creeps to the edge of my stove.

Alas! how he fumbles about the domains
Which this comfortless oven environ!

He cannot find out in what track he must crawl,
Now back to the tiles, then in search of the wall,
And now on the brink of the iron.

Stock-still there he stands like a traveller bemazed:
The best of his skill he has tried;

His feelers, methinks, I can see him put forth
To the East and the West, to the South and the North;
But he finds neither Guide-post nor Guide.

No Brother, no Mate has he near him- while I
Can draw warmth from the cheek of my Love;
As blest and as glad, in this desolate gloom,
As if green summer grass were the floor of my room,
And woodbines were hanging above.

the clouds, And back to the forests again!

Or in the diver's grasp fetched up from caves
How his spindles sink under him, foot, leg, and thigh! But whose rash hand (again I ask) could dare,
Where sea-nymphs might be proud to dwell:
His eyesight and hearing are lost;
Between life and death his blood freezes and thaws;
And his two pretty pinions of blue dusky gauze
Are glued to his sides by the frost.

'Mid casual tokens and promiscuous shows,
To circumscribe this shape in fixed repose;
Could imitate for indolent survey,


Lo! where the moon along the sky
Sails with her happy destiny;
Oft is she hid from mortal eye
Or dimly seen,

But when the clouds asunder fly
How bright her mien!

Far different we-a froward race,
Thousands though rich in Fortune's grace
With cherished sullenness of pace

Their way pursue,
Ingrates who wear a smileless face
The whole year through.


Resplendent Wanderer! followed with glad eyes
Where'er her course; mysterious bird!
To whom by wondering fancy stirred,
Eastern Islanders have given

Yet, God is my witness, thou small helpless Thing!
Thy life I would gladly sustain
Till summer comes up from the South, and with crowds
Of thy brethren a march thou shouldst sound through And even a title higher still,

A holy name- -the Bird of Heaven!

If kindred humours e'er would make
My spirit droop for drooping's sake,
From Fancy following in thy wake,
Bright ship of heaven!

WHO rashly strove thy image to portray?
Thou buoyant minion of the tropic air;
How could he think of the live creature-
With a divinity of colours, drest
In all her brightness, from the dancing crest
Far as the last gleam of the filmy train
Extended and extending to sustain
The motions that it g.uces and forbear
To drop his pencil! Flowers of every clime
Depicted on these pages smile at time;
And gorgeous insects copied with nice care
Are here, and likenesses of many a shell
Tossed ashore by restless waves,

A counter impulse let me tako
And be forgiven.


Perhaps for touch profane,

Plumes that might catch, but cannot keep, a stain;
And, with cloud-streaks lightest and loftiest, share
The sun's first greeting, his last farewell ray!

The Bird of God! whose blessed will
She seems performing as she flies
Over the earth and through the skies
In never-wearied search of Paradise -
Region that crowns her beauty with the name
She bears for us for us how blest,

How happy at all seasons, could like aim
Uphold our spirits urged to kindred flight
On wings that fear no glance of God's pure sight,
No tempest from his breath, their promised rest
Seeking with indefatigable quest
Above a world that deems itself most wise
When most enslaved by gross realities!

WHO is the happy Warrior? Who is he?
That every Man in arms should wish to be!

It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought:
Whose high endeavours are an inward light
That makes the path before him always bright:

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