"It is not to be thought of that the flood

"When I have borne in memory what has tamed

"There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear

October, 1803

"England! the time is come when thou shouldst weani

To the Men of Kent, October, 1803.

In the Pass of Killicranky

1806.

) 1807. Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland

To Thomas Clarkson on the Final Passing of the Bill

303

303

304

304

305

305

306

306

316

1811.

for the Abolition of the Slave Trade.

"Here pause; the poet claims at least this praise

316

317

1815.

To B. R. Haydon . .

317

66

Return, Content! for fondly I pursued'

To Catherine Wordsworth

1820. Oxford, May 30, 1820.

"Sole listener, Duddon! to the breeze that played"

Seathwaite Chapel.

"Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorce"

Afterthought

324

1823. "Not Love, not War, nor the tumultuous swell "

1827. To Rotha Q-

324

1830. To the Author's Portrait. .

1831. On the Departure of Sir Walter Scott

The Trossachs

"Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned

325

325

326

326

282

327

The Pibroch's Note

Highland Hut

To the River Derwent

1833. In Sight of the Town of Cockermouth

Address from the Spirit of Cockermouth Castle

Mary Queen of Scots ...

"There!' said the Stripling, pointing with meet pride

"Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes

331

1837. The Pine of Monte Mario, at Rome.

331

1838. Composed on a May Morning, 1838

332

"Blest statesman he, whose mind's unselfish will"

A Poet― He hath put his heart to school"

334

NOTES

337

INDEX TO FIRST LINES

429

SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH.

SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH.

EXTRACT

FROM THE CONCLUSION OF A POEM, COMPOSED IN
ANTICIPATION OF LEAVING SCHOOL.

1786. — 1815.

DEAR native regions, I foretell,
From what I feel at this farewell,
That wheresoe'er my steps may tend,
And whensoe'er my course shall end,
If in that hour a single tie
Survive of local sympathy,

My soul will cast the backward view,
The longing look, alone on you.

Thus, while the sun sinks down to rest
Far in the regions of the west,
Though to the vale no parting beam
Be given, not one memorial gleam,
A lingering light he fondly throws
On the dear hills where first he rose.