Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity, And with the heart of May Doth every beast keep holiday ;-- Thou child of joy, Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd boy! IV. Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; The fulness of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all. And the children are pulling, On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, --But there's a tree, of many one, Doth the same tale repeat: V. Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, Is on his way attended; At length the man perceives it die away, VI. Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; The homely nurse doth all she can VII. Behold the child among his new-born blisscs, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: To dialogues of business, love, or strife; Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his "humorous stage* Were endless imitation. VIII. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep On whom those truths do rest, The years to bring th' inevitable yoke, IX. O joy! that in our embers The thought of our past years in me doth breed For that which is most worthy to be bless'd; With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:- The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Black misgivings of a creature Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts, before which our mortal nature Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Uphold us-cherish-and have power to make Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour. Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Hence, in a season of calm weather. Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Can in a moment travel thither,- Σ. Then, sing ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song! As to the tabor's sound! We, in thought, will join your throng, Ye that through your hearts to-day What though the radiance which was once so bright Though nothing can bring back the hour Which having been, must ever be ; In the faith that looks through death, XI. And oh ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves, To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the brooks, which down their channels fret, The clouds that gather round the setting sun That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; THE EXCURSION. Co the Right Honourable William, Earl of Lonsdale, H.G., kt. kc. OFT, through thy fair domains, illustrious Peer! In youth I roam'd, on youthful pleasures bent; Beside swift-flowing Lowther's current clear. Before thee, LONSDALE, and this Work present, BYDAL MOUNT, WESTMORELAND, WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. PREFACE. THE reader must be apprised that this poem belongs to the second part of a long and laborious work ("The Recluse"), which is to consist of hree parts. The author will candidly acknowledge that, if the first of hese had been completed, and in such a manner as to satisfy his own mind, he should have preferred the natural order of publication, and have given that to the world first; but, as the second division of the work was designed to refer more to passing events, and to an existing state of things, han the others were meant to do, more continuous exertion was naturally bestowed upon it, and greater progress made here than in the rest of the poem; and as this part does not depend upon the preceding to a degre which will materially injure its own peculiar interest, the author, comp ng with the earnest entreaties of some valued friends, presents the followng pages to the public. It may be proper to state whence the poem, of which "The Excursion" s a part derives its title of "The Recluse." Several years ago, when the author retired to his native mountains, with the hope of being enabled to construct a literary work that might live, it was a reasonable thing that he should take a review of his own mind, and examine how far nature and education had qualified him for such employment. As subsidiary to this preparation, he undertook to record, in verse, the origin and progress of his own powers, as far as he was acquainted with them. That work, addressed to a dear friend, most distinguished for his knowledge and genius, and to whom the author's intellect is deeply indebted, has been ong finished; and the result of the investigation which gave rise to it was à determination to compose a philosophical poem, containing views of Man, Nature, and Society; and to be entitled, "The Recluse," as having for its principal subject the sensations and opinions of a poet living in retire. |