Lo where the Moon along the sky
Sails with her happy destiny; 1
Oft is she hid from mortal eye
Or dimly seen,

But when the clouds asunder fly
How bright her mien ! 2

Far different we-a froward race, 3
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.

If kindred humours e'er would make 4
My spirit droop for drooping's sake,
From Fancy following in thy wake,
Bright ship of heaven!

A counter impulse let me take
And be forgiven. *

The moon that sails along the sky
Moves with a happy destiny.

The following-which was the second stanza in
the edition of 1837-was omitted in 1842.

Not flagging when the winds all sleep,
Not hurried onward, when they sweep
The bosom of th' ethereal deep,

If kindred humour e'er should make Compare the poem To the Daisy (1803), beginning

1838.

"Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere."

1837.

--ED.

1838.

In 1838 Wordsworth wrote eleven sonnets. These were published for the first time in the volume of collected Sonnets, several being inserted out of their intended place, while the book was passing through the press.

The "Protest against the Ballot," which appeared in 1838, was never republished.

TO THE PLANET VENUS.

Upon its approximation (as an Evening Star) to the Earth, Jan. 1838.

WHAT strong allurement draws, what spirit guides,
Thee, Vesper! brightening still, as if the nearer
Thou com'st to man's abode the spot grew dearer
Night after night? True is it Nature hides.
Her treasures less and less.-Man now presides
In power, where once he trembled in his weakness;
Science1 advances with gigantic strides;
But are we aught enriched in love and meekness? *
Aught dost thou see, bright Star! of pure and wise
More than in humbler times graced human story;
That makes our hearts more apt to sympathise
With Heaven, our souls more fit for future glory,
When earth shall vanish from our closing eyes,
Ere we lie down in our last dormitory?

86

'TIS HE WHOSE YESTER-EVENING'S HIGH DISDAIN.

HARK! 'tis the Thrush, undaunted, undeprest,
By twilight premature of cloud and rain;
Nor does that roaring wind deaden his strain
Who carols thinking of his Love and nest,
And seems, as more incited, still more blest.
Thanks; thou hast snapped a fire-side Prisoner's chain,
Exulting Warbler! eased a fretted brain,

And in a moment charmed my cares to rest.
Yes, I will forth, bold Bird! and front the blast
That we may sing together, if thou wilt,
So loud, so clear, my Partner through life's day,
Mute in her nest love-chosen, if not love-built
Like thine, shall gladden, as in seasons past,
Thrilled by loose snatches of the social Lay.
RYDAL MOUNT, 1838.

'TIS He whose yester-evening's high disdain
Beat back the roaring storm-but how subdued
His day-break note, a sad vicissitude!

Does the hour's drowsy weight his glee restrain?
Or, like the nightingale, her joyous vein
Pleased to renounce, does this dear Thrush attune
His voice to suit the temper of yon Moon
Doubly depressed, setting, and in her wane?
Rise, tardy Sun! and let the Songster prove
(The balance trembling between night and morn
No longer) with what ecstasy upborne

He can pour forth his spirit. In heaven above,
And earth below, they best can serve true gladness
Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.

COMPOSED AT RYDAL ON MAY MORNING, 1838.

Comp. 1838.

Pub. 1838.

[This and the following sonnet were composed on what we call the "Far Terrace" at Rydal Mount, where I have murmured out many thousands of verses.]

IF with old love of you, dear Hills! I share
New love of many a rival image brought

From far, forgive the wanderings of my thought:
Nor art thou wronged, sweet May! when I compare
Thy present birth-morn with thy last,* so fair,
So rich to me in favours. For my lot

Then was, within the famed Egerian Grot

To sit and muse, fanned by its dewy air
Mingling with thy soft breath! That morning too,
Warblers I heard their joy unbosoming

Amid the sunny, shadowy, Coliseum; †

Heard them, unchecked by aught of saddening hue,1
For victories there won by flower-crowned Spring,
Chant in full choir their innocent Te Deum.

COMPOSED ON A MAY MORNING, 1838.

Comp. 1838.

Pub. 1838.

LIFE with yon Lambs, like day, is just begun,
Yet Nature seems to them a heavenly guide.
Does joy approach? they meet the coming tide;
And sullenness avoid, as now they shun

1 1845.

of sombre hue,

1838.

* On May morning, 1837, Wordsworth was in Rome with Henry Crabb Robinson.-ED.

The Flavian Amphitheatre, begun by Vespasian, A. D. 72, and continued by his son Titus, one of the noblest structures in Rome, now ruin.-ED.

Pale twilight's lingering glooms, and in the sun
Couch near their dams, with quiet satisfied;
Or gambol-each with his shadow at his side,
Varying its shape wherever he may run.

As they from turf yet hoar with sleepy dew

All turn, and court the shining and the green,
Where herbs look up, and opening flowers are seen;
Why to God's goodness cannot We be true,

And so, His gifts and promises between,
Feed to the last on pleasures ever new?

[The sad condition of poor Mrs Southey* put me upon writing this. It has afforded comfort to many persons whose friends have been similarly affected.]

OH what a Wreck! how changed in mien and speech!
Yet though dread Powers, that work in mystery, spin
Entanglings of the brain; though shadows stretch
O'er the chilled heart-reflect; far, far within

Hers is a holy Being, freed from Sin.

She is not what she seems, a forlorn wretch,

But delegated Spirits comfort fetch

To Her from heights that Reason may not win.
Like Children, She is privileged to hold
Divine communion,† both do live and move,
Whate'er to shallow Faith their ways unfold,
Inly illumined by Heaven's pitying love;
Love pitying innocence not long to last,

In them-in Her our sins and sorrows past.

1845.

for

1838.

* Mrs Southey died Nov. 16, 1837. She had long been an invalid. See Southey's Life and Correspondence, Vol. VI., p. 347.—E».

+ Compare a remark of Wordsworth's that he never saw those with mind unhinged, but he thought of the words, Life hid in God.'—Ev.