DUKE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Treasure %gom 
 
i/^ _ 
 
THE RECLUSE 
 
THE RECLUSE 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 
 
 ILottUOtt 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 1888 
 
 A II rights reserved 
 
500^\^V 
 

 In the prefatory advertisement to the First 
 Edition of the Prelude, 1850, it is stated 
 that that poem was designed to be intro- 
 ductory to the Recluse, and that the Recluse, 
 if completed, would have consisted of three 
 parts. The second part is the Excursion. 
 The third part was only planned. The 
 first book of the first part was left in manu- 
 script by Wordsworth. It is now (1888) 
 published for the first time in extenso. 
 
THE RECLUSE 
 
 Part First 
 
 book first — home at grasmere 
 
 Once to the verge of yon steep barrier came 
 A roving school-boy ; what the adventurer's age 
 Hath now escaped his memory — but the hour, 
 One of a golden summer holiday, 
 He well remembers, though the year be gone — 
 Alone and devious from afar he came ; 
 And, with a sudden influx overpowered 
 At sight of this seclusion, he forgot 
 
2 THE RECLUSE 
 
 His haste, for hasty had his footsteps been 
 
 As boyish his pursuits ; and sighing said, 
 
 " What happy fortune were it here to live ! 
 
 And, if a thought of dying, if a thought 
 
 Of mortal separation, could intrude 
 
 With paradise before him, here to die ! " 
 
 No Prophet was he, had not even a hope, 
 
 Scarcely a wish, but one bright pleasing thought, 
 
 A fancy in the heart of what might be 
 
 The lot of others, never could be his. 
 
 The station whence he looked was soft and green, 
 Not giddy yet aerial, with a depth 
 Of vale below, a height of hills above. 
 For rest of body perfect was the spot, 
 All that luxurious nature could desire ; 
 But stirring to the spirit ; who could gaze 
 
THE RECLUSE 3 
 
 And not feel motions there ? He thought of clouds 
 That sail on winds : of breezes that delight 
 To play on water, or in endless chase 
 Pursue each other through the yielding plain 
 Of grass or corn, over and through and through, 
 In billow after billow, evermore 
 Disporting — nor unmindful was the boy 
 Of sunbeams, shadows, butterflies and birds ; 
 Of fluttering sylphs and softly-gliding Fays, 
 Genii, and winged angels that are Lords 
 Without restraint of all which they behold. 
 The illusion strengthening as he gazed, he felt 
 That such unfettered liberty was his, 
 Such power and joy ; but only for this end, 
 To flit from field to rock, from rock to field, 
 From shore to island, and from isle to shore, 
 
4 THE RECLUSE 
 
 From open ground to covert, from a bed 
 Of meadow-flowers into a tuft of wood ; 
 From high to low, from low to high, yet still 
 Within the bound of this huge concave ; here 
 Must be his home, this valley be his world. 
 
 Since that day forth the Place to him — to me 
 (For I who live to register the truth 
 Was that same young and happy Being) became 
 As beautiful to thought, as it had been 
 When present, to the bodily sense ; a haunt 
 Of pure affections, shedding upon joy 
 A brighter joy ; and through such damp and gloom 
 Of the gay mind, as ofttimes splenetic youth 
 Mistakes for sorrow, darting beams of light 
 That no self-cherished sadness could withstand ; 
 And now 'tis mine, perchance for life, dear Vale, 
 
THE RECLUSE 5 
 
 Beloved Grasmere (let the wandering streams 
 Take up, the cloud-capt hills repeat, the Name) 
 One of thy lowly Dwellings is my Home. 
 
 And was the cost so great ? and could it seem 
 An act of courage, and the thing itself 
 A conquest ? who must bear the blame ? Sage 
 
 man, 
 Thy prudence, thy experience, thy desires, 
 Thy apprehensions — blush thou for them all. 
 
 Yes the realities of life so cold, 
 So cowardly, so ready to betray, 
 So stinted in the measure of their grace 
 As we pronounce them, doing them much wrong, 
 Have been to me more bountiful than hope, 
 Less timid than desire — but that is passed. 
 
 On Nature's invitation do I come, 
 
6 THE RECLUSE 
 
 By Reason sanctioned. Can the choice mislead, 
 
 That made the calmest fairest spot of earth 
 
 With all its unappropriated good 
 
 My own ; and not mine only, for with me 
 
 Entrenched, say rather peacefully embowered, 
 
 Under yon orchard, in yon humble cot, 
 
 A younger Orphan of a home extinct, 
 
 The only Daughter of my Parents dwells. 
 
 Aye think on that, my heart, and cease to stir, 
 Pause upon that and let the breathing frame 
 No longer breathe, but all be satisfied. 
 — Oh, if such silence be not thanks to God 
 For what hath been bestowed, then where, where 
 
 then 
 Shall gratitude find rest ? Mine eyes did ne'er 
 Fix on a lovely object, nor my mind 
 
THE RECLUSE 
 
 Take pleasure in the midst of happy thoughts, 
 But either She whom now I have, who now 
 Divides with me this loved abode, was there, 
 Or not far off. Where'er my footsteps turned, 
 Her voice was like a hidden Bird that sang, 
 The thought of her was like a flash of light, 
 Or an unseen companionship, a breath 
 Of fragrance independent of the Wind. 
 In all my goings, in the new and old 
 Of all my meditations, and in this 
 Favourite of all, in this the most of all. 
 — What being, therefore, since the birth of Man 
 Had ever more abundant cause to speak 
 Thanks, and if favours of the Heavenly Muse 
 Make him more thankful, then to call on Verse 
 To aid him and in song resound his joy ? 
 
8 THE RECLUSE 
 
 The boon is absolute ; surpassing grace 
 
 To me hath been vouchsafed ; among the bowers 
 
 Of blissful Eden this was neither given 
 
 Nor could be given, possession of the good 
 
 Which had been sighed for, ancient thought fulfilled, 
 
 And dear Imaginations realised, 
 
 Up to their highest measure, yea and more. 
 
 Embrace me then, ye Hills, and close me in ; 
 Now in the clear and open day I feel 
 Your guardianship ; I take it to my heart ; 
 'Tis like the solemn shelter of the night. 
 But I would call thee beautiful, for mild, 
 And soft, and gay, and beautiful thou art 
 Dear Valley, having in thy face a smile 
 Though peaceful, full of gladness. Thou art pleased, 
 Pleased with thy crags and woody steeps, thy Lake, 
 
THE RECLUSE 9 
 
 Its one green island and its winding shores ; 
 The multitude of little rocky hills, 
 Thy Church and cottages of mountain stone 
 Clustered like stars some few, but single most, 
 And lurking dimly in their shy retreats, 
 Or glancing at each other cheerful looks 
 Like separated stars with clouds between. 
 What want we ? have we not perpetual streams, 
 Warm woods, and sunny hills, and fresh green 
 
 fields, 
 And mountains not less green, and flocks and 
 
 herds, 
 And thickets full of songsters, and the voice 
 Of lordly birds, an unexpected sound 
 Heard now and then from morn to latest eve, 
 Admonishing the man who walks below 
 
io THE RECLUSE, 
 
 Of solitude and silence in the sky ? 
 
 These have we, and a thousand nooks of earth 
 
 Have also these, but nowhere else is found, 
 
 Nowhere (or is it fancy ?) can be found 
 
 The one sensation that is here ; 'tis here, 
 
 Here as it found its way into my heart 
 
 In childhood, here as it abides by day, 
 
 By night, here only ; or in chosen minds 
 
 That take it with them hence, where'er they go. 
 
 — 'Tis, but I cannot name it, 'tis the sense 
 
 Of majesty, and beauty, and repose, 
 
 A blended holiness of earth and sky, 
 
 Something that makes this individual spot, 
 
 This small abiding-place of many men, 
 
 A termination, and a last retreat, 
 
 A centre, come from wheresoe'er you will, 
 
THE RECLUSE n 
 
 A whole without dependence or defect. 
 Made for itself, and happy in itself, 
 Perfect contentment, Unity entire. 
 
 Bleak season was it, turbulent and bleak, 
 When hitherward we journeyed side by side 
 Through burst of sunshine and through flying 
 
 showers ; 
 Paced the long vales — how long they were — and yet 
 How fast that length of way was left behind, 
 Wensley's rich Vale, and Sedbergh's naked heights. 
 The frosty wind, as if to make amends 
 For its keen breath, was aiding to our steps, 
 And drove us onward like two ships at sea, 
 Or like two birds, companions in mid-air, 
 Parted and reunited by the blast. 
 
 Stern was the face of nature ; we rejoiced 
 
12 THE RECLUSE 
 
 In that stern countenance, for our souls thence drew 
 
 A feeling of their strength. The naked trees, 
 
 The icy brooks, as on we passed, appeared 
 
 To question us. " Whence come ye, to what end ?" 
 
 They seemed to say, "What would ye," said the 
 
 shower, 
 "Wild Wanderers, whither through my dark 
 
 domain ? " 
 The sunbeam said, " Be happy." When this vale 
 We entered, bright and solemn was the sky 
 That faced us with a passionate welcoming, 
 And led us to our threshold. Daylight failed 
 Insensibly, and round us gently fell 
 Composing darkness, with a quiet load 
 Of full contentment, in a little shed 
 Disturbed, uneasy in itself as seemed, 
 
THE RECLUSE 13 
 
 And wondering at its new inhabitants. 
 It loves us now, this Vale so beautiful 
 Begins to love us ! by a sullen storm, 
 Two months unwearied of severest storm, 
 It put the temper of our minds to proof, 
 And found us faithful through the gloom, and 
 
 heard 
 The poet mutter his prelusive songs 
 With cheerful heart, an unknown voice of joy 
 Among the silence of the woods and hills ; 
 Silent to any gladsomeness of sound 
 With all their shepherds. 
 
 But the gates of Spring 
 Are opened ; churlish winter hath given leave 
 That she should entertain for this one day, 
 Perhaps for many genial days to come, 
 
i 4 THE RECLUSE 
 
 His guests, and make them jocund. — They are 
 
 pleased, 
 But most of all the birds that haunt the flood 
 With the mild summons ; inmates though they be 
 Of Winter's household, they keep festival 
 This day, who drooped, or seemed to droop, so 
 
 long ; 
 They show their pleasure, and shall I do less ? 
 Happier of happy though I be, like them 
 I cannot take possession of the sky, 
 Mount with a thoughtless impulse, and wheel there 
 One of a mighty multitude, whose way 
 Is a perpetual harmony and dance 
 Magnificent. Behold how with a grace 
 Of ceaseless motion, that might scarcely seem 
 Inferior to angelical, they prolong 
 
THE RECLUSE 15 
 
 Their curious pastime, shaping in mid-air, 
 And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars 
 High as the level of the mountain-tops, 
 A circuit ampler than the lake beneath, 
 Their own domain ; — but ever, while intent 
 On tracing and retracing that large round, 
 Their jubilant activity evolves 
 Hundreds of curves and circlets, to and fro, 
 Upwards and downwards ; progress intricate 
 Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed 
 Their indefatigable flight. 'Tis done, 
 Ten times and more I fancied it had ceased, 
 But lo ! the vanished company again 
 Ascending, they approach. I hear their wings 
 Faint, faint at first ; and then an eager sound 
 Passed in a moment — and as faint again ! 
 
16 THE RECLUSE 
 
 They tempt the sun to sport among their plumes ; 
 
 Tempt the smooth water, or the gleaming ice, 
 
 To show them a fair image, — 'tis themselves, 
 
 Their own fair forms upon the glimmering plain 
 
 Painted more soft and fair as they descend, 
 
 Almost to touch,— then up again aloft, 
 
 Up with a sally and a flash of speed, 
 
 As if they scorned both resting-place and rest ! 
 
 — This day is a thanksgiving, 'tis a day 
 
 Of glad emotion and deep quietness ; 
 
 Not upon me alone hath been bestowed, 
 
 Me rich in many onward-looking thoughts, 
 
 The penetrating bliss ; oh surely these 
 
 Have felt it, not the happy choirs of spring, 
 
 Her own peculiar family of love 
 
 That sport among green leaves, a blither train ! 
 
THE RECLUSE 17 
 
 But two are missing, two, a lonely pair 
 Of milk-white Swans ; wherefore are they not seen 
 Partaking this day's pleasure? From afar 
 They came, to sojourn here in solitude, 
 Choosing this Valley, they who had the choice 
 Of the whole world. We saw them day by day, 
 Through those two months of unrelenting storm, 
 Conspicuous at the centre of the Lake 
 Their safe retreat, we knew them well, I guess 
 That the whole valley knew them ; but to us 
 They were more dear than may be well believed, 
 Not only for their beauty, and their still 
 And placid way of life, and constant love 
 Inseparable, not for these alone, 
 But that their state so much resembled ours, 
 They having also chosen this abode ; 
 
1 8 THE RECLUSE 
 
 They strangers, and we strangers, they a pair, 
 
 And we a solitary pair like them; 
 
 They should not have departed ; many days 
 
 Did I look forth in vain, nor on the wing 
 
 Could see them, nor in that small open space 
 
 Of blue unfrozen water, where they lodged 
 
 And lived so long in quiet, side by side. 
 
 Shall we behold them consecrated friends, 
 
 Faithful companions, yet another year 
 
 Surviving, they for us, and we for them, 
 
 And neither pair be broken ? nay perchance 
 
 It is too late already for such hope ; 
 
 The Dalesmen may have aimed the deadly tube, 
 
 And parted them ; or haply both are gone 
 
 One death, and that were mercy given to both. 
 
 Recall, my song, the ungenerous thought ; forgive, 
 
THE RECLUSE 19 
 
 Thrice favoured Region, the conjecture harsh 
 Of such inhospitable penalty 
 Inflicted upon confidence so pure. 
 Ah ! if I wished to follow where the sight 
 Of all that is before my eyes, the voice 
 Which speaks from a presiding spirit here, 
 Would lead me, I should whisper to myself: 
 They who are dwellers in this holy place 
 Must needs themselves be hallowed, they require 
 No benediction from the stranger's lips, 
 For they are blessed already ; none would give 
 The greeting " peace be with you " unto them, 
 For peace they have ; it cannot but be theirs, 
 And mercy, and forbearance — nay — not these — 
 Their healing offices a pure good-will 
 Precludes, and charity beyond the bounds 
 
20 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Of charity — an overflowing love ; 
 Not for the creature only, but for all 
 That is around them ; love for everything 
 Which in their happy Region they behold ! 
 
 Thus do we soothe ourselves, and when the 
 thought 
 Is passed, we blame it not for having come. 
 — What if I floated down a pleasant stream, 
 And now am landed, and the motion gone, 
 Shall I reprove myself? Ah no, the stream 
 Is flowing, and will never cease to flow, 
 And I shall float upon that stream again. 
 By such forgetfulness the soul becomes, 
 Words cannot say how beautiful : then hail, 
 Hail to the visible Presence, hail to thee, 
 Delightful Valley, habitation fair ! 
 
THE RECLUSE 21 
 
 And to whatever else of outward form 
 Can give an inward help, can purify, 
 And elevate, and harmonise, and soothe, 
 And steal away, and for a while deceive 
 And lap in pleasing rest, and bear us on 
 Without desire in full complacency, 
 Contemplating perfection absolute, 
 And entertained as in a placid sleep. 
 
 But not betrayed by tenderness of mind 
 That feared, or wholly overlooked the truth, 
 Did we come hither, with romantic hope 
 To find in midst of so much loveliness 
 Love, perfect love : of so much majesty 
 A like majestic frame of mind in those 
 Who here abide, the persons like the place. 
 Not from such hope, or aught of such belief, 
 
22 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Hath issued any portion of the joy 
 
 Which I have felt this day. An awful voice 
 
 'Tis true hath in my walks been often heard, 
 
 Sent from the mountains or the sheltered fields, 
 
 Shout after shout — reiterated whoop, 
 
 In manner of a bird that takes delight 
 
 In answering to itself : or like a hound 
 
 Single at chase among the lonely woods, 
 
 His yell repeating ; yet it was in truth 
 
 A human voice — a spirit of coming night ; 
 
 How solemn when the sky is dark, and earth 
 
 Not dark, nor yet enlightened, but by snow 
 
 Made visible, amid a noise of winds 
 
 And bleatings manifold of mountain sheep, 
 
 Which in that iteration recognise 
 
 Their summons, and are gathering round for food, 
 

 THE RECLUSE 23 
 
 Devoured with keenness, ere to grove or bank 
 Or rocky bield with patience they retire. 
 
 That very voice, which, in some timid mood 
 Of superstitious fancy, might have seemed 
 Awful as ever stray demoniac uttered, 
 His steps to govern in the wilderness ; 
 Or as the Norman Curfew's regular beat 
 To hearths when first they darkened at the knell : 
 That shepherd's voice, it may have reached mine 
 
 ear 
 Debased and under profanation, made 
 The ready organ of articulate sounds 
 From ribaldry, impiety, or wrath, 
 Issuing when shame hath ceased to check the 
 
 brawls 
 Of some abused Festivity — so be it. 
 
24 THE RECLUSE 
 
 I came not dreaming of unruffled life, 
 
 Untainted manners ; born among the hills, 
 
 Bred also there, I wanted not a scale 
 
 To regulate my hopes ; pleased with the good 
 
 I shrink not from the evil with disgust, 
 
 Or with immoderate pain. I look for Man, 
 
 The common creature of the brotherhood, 
 
 Differing but little from the Man elsewhere, 
 
 For selfishness and envy and revenge, 
 
 111 neighbourhood — pity that this should be — 
 
 Flattery and double-dealing, strife and wrong. 
 
 Yet is it something gained, it is in truth 
 A mighty gain, that Labour here preserves 
 His rosy face, a servant only here 
 Of the fireside or of the open field, 
 A Freeman therefore sound and unimpaired : 
 
THE RECLUSE 25 
 
 That extreme penury is here unknown, 
 And cold and hunger's abject wretchedness 
 Mortal to body and the heaven-born mind : 
 That they who want are not too great a weight 
 For those who can relieve ; here may the heart 
 Breathe in the air of fellow-suffering 
 Dreadless, as in a kind of fresher breeze 
 Of her own native element, the hand 
 Be ready and unwearied without plea, 
 From tasks too frequent or beyond its power, 
 For languor or indifference or despair. 
 And as these lofty barriers break the force 
 Of winds, — this deep Vale, as it doth in part 
 Conceal us from the storm, so here abides 
 A power and a protection for the mind, 
 Dispensed indeed to other solitudes 
 
26 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Favoured by noble privilege like this, 
 Where kindred independence of estate 
 Is prevalent, where he who tills the field, 
 He, happy man ! is master of the field, 
 And treads the mountains which his Fathers trod. 
 Not less than halfway up yon mountain's side, 
 Behold a dusky spot, a grove of Firs 
 That seems still smaller than it is ; this grove 
 Is haunted — by what ghost ? a gentle spirit 
 Of memory faithful to the call of love ; 
 For, as reports the Dame, whose fire sends up 
 Yon curling smoke from the grey cot below, 
 The trees (her first-born child being then a babe) 
 Were planted by her husband and herself, 
 That ranging o'er the high and houseless ground 
 Their sheep might neither want from perilous storm 
 
THE RECLUSE 27 
 
 Of winter, nor from summer's sultry heat, 
 A friendly covert ; " and they knew it well," 
 Said she, " for thither as the trees grew up 
 We to the patient creatures carried food 
 In times of heavy snow." She then began 
 In fond obedience to her private thoughts 
 To speak of her dead husband ; is there not 
 An art, a music, and a strain of words 
 That shall be life, the acknowledged voice of life, 
 Shall speak of what is done among the fields, 
 Done truly there, or felt, of solid good 
 And real evil, yet be sweet withal, 
 More grateful, more harmonious than the breath, 
 The idle breath of softest pipe attuned 
 To pastoral fancies ? Is there such a stream 
 Pure and unsullied flowing from the heart 
 
28 THE RECLUSE 
 
 With motions of true dignity and grace ? 
 
 Or must we seek that stream where Man is not? 
 
 Methinks I could repeat in tuneful verse, 
 
 Delicious as the gentlest breeze that sounds 
 
 Through that aerial fir-grove — could preserve 
 
 Some portion of its human history 
 
 As gathered from the Matron's lips, and tell 
 
 Of tears that have been shed at sight of it, 
 
 And moving dialogues between this Pair 
 
 Who in their prime of wedlock, with joint hands 
 
 Did plant the grove, now flourishing, while they 
 
 No longer flourish, he entirely gone, 
 
 She withering in her loneliness. Be this 
 
 A task above my skill — the silent mind 
 
 Has her own treasures, and I think of these, 
 
 Love what I see, and honour humankind. 
 
THE RECLUSE 29 
 
 No, we are not alone, we do not stand, 
 My sister here misplaced and desolate, 
 Loving what no one cares for but ourselves. 
 We shall not scatter through the plains and rocks 
 Of this fair Vale, and o'er its spacious heights, 
 Unprofitable kindliness, bestowed 
 On objects unaccustomed to the gifts 
 Of feeling, which were cheerless and forlorn 
 But few weeks past and would be so again 
 Were we not here ; we do not tend a lamp 
 Whose lustre we alone participate, 
 Which shines dependent upon us alone, 
 Mortal though bright, a dying, dying flame. 
 Look where we will, some human hand has been 
 Before us with its offering ; not a tree 
 Sprinkles these little pastures, but the same 
 
30 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Hath furnished matter for a thought ; perchance 
 
 For some one serves as a familiar friend. 
 
 Joy spreads, and sorrow spreads ; and this whole 
 
 Vale, 
 Home of untutored shepherds as it is, 
 Swarms with sensation, as with gleams of sunshine, 
 Shadows or breezes, scents or sounds. Nor deem 
 These feelings, though subservient more than ours 
 To every day's demand for daily bread, 
 And borrowing more their spirit and their shape 
 From self-respecting interests ; deem them not 
 Unworthy therefore, and unhallowed — no, 
 They lift the animal being, do themselves 
 By nature's kind and ever present aid 
 Refine the selfishness from which they spring, 
 Redeem by love the individual sense 
 
THE RECLUSE 31 
 
 Of anxiousness, with which they are combined. 
 And thus it is that fitly they become 
 Associates in the joy of purest minds : 
 They blend therewith congenially : meanwhile 
 Calmly they breathe their own undying life 
 Through this their mountain sanctuary ; long 
 Oh long may it remain inviolate, 
 Diffusing health and sober cheerfulness, 
 And giving to the moments as they pass 
 Their little boons of animating thought 
 That sweeten labour, make it seen and felt 
 To be no arbitrary weight imposed, 
 But a glad function natural to man. 
 
 Fair proof of this, newcomer though I be, 
 Already have I gained ; the inward frame, 
 Though slowly opening, opens every day 
 
32 THE RECLUSE 
 
 With process not unlike to that which cheers 
 A pensive stranger journeying at his leisure 
 Through some Helvetian Dell; when low- hung 
 
 mists 
 Break up and are beginning to recede ; 
 How pleased he is where thin and thinner grows 
 The veil, or where it parts at once, to spy 
 The dark pines thrusting forth their spiky heads ; 
 To watch the spreading lawns with cattle grazed ; 
 Then to be greeted by the scattered huts 
 As they shine out; and see the streams whose 
 
 murmur 
 Had soothed his ear while they were hidden ; how 
 
 pleased 
 To have about him which way e'er he goes 
 Something on every side concealed from view, 
 
THE RECLUSE 33 
 
 In every quarter something visible 
 Half seen or wholly, lost and found again, 
 Alternate progress and impediment, 
 And yet a growing prospect in the main. 
 
 Such pleasure now is mine, albeit forced, 
 Herein less happy than the Traveller, 
 To cast from time to time a painful look 
 Upon unwelcome things which unawares 
 Reveal themselves, not therefore is my heart 
 Depressed, nor does it fear what is to come ; 
 But confident, enriched at every glance, 
 The more I see the more delight my mind 
 Receives, or by reflection can create : • 
 Truth justifies herself, and as she dwells 
 With Hope, who would not follow where she leads ? 
 
 Nor let me pass unheeded other loves 
 
34 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Where no fear is, and humbler sympathies. 
 
 Already hath sprung up within my heart 
 
 A liking for the small gray horse that bears 
 
 The paralytic man, and for the brute 
 
 In Scripture sanctified — the patient brute 
 
 On which the cripple, in the quarry maimed, 
 
 Rides to and fro : I know them and their ways. 
 
 The famous sheep-dog, first in all the vale, 
 
 Though yet to me a stranger, will not be 
 
 A stranger long ; nor will the blind man's guide, 
 
 Meek and neglected thing, of no renown ! 
 
 Soon will peep forth the primrose, ere it fades 
 
 Friends shall I have at dawn, blackbird and thrush 
 
 To rouse me, and a hundred warblers more ! 
 
 And if those Eagles to their ancient hold 
 
 Return, Helvellyn's Eagles ! with the Pair 
 
THE RECLUSE 35 
 
 From my own door I shall be free to claim 
 Acquaintance, as they sweep from cloud to cloud. 
 The owl that gives the name to Owlet-Crag 
 Have I heard whooping, and he soon will be 
 A chosen one of my regards. See there 
 The heifer in yon little croft belongs 
 To one who holds it dear ; with duteous care 
 She reared it, and in speaking of her charge 
 I heard her scatter some endearing words 
 Domestic, an^l in spirit motherly, 
 She being herself a mother ; happy Beast, 
 If the caresses of a human voice 
 Can make it so, and care of human hands. 
 
 And ye as happy under Nature's care, 
 Strangers to me and all men, or at least 
 Strangers to all particular amity, 
 
36 THE RECLUSE 
 
 All intercourse of knowledge or of love 
 
 That parts the individual from his kind. 
 
 Whether in large communities ye keep 
 
 From year to year, not shunning man's abode, 
 
 A settled residence, or be from far 
 
 Wild creatures, and of many homes, that come 
 
 The gift of winds, and whom the winds again 
 
 Take from us at your pleasure ; yet shall ye 
 
 Not want for this your own subordinate place 
 
 In my affections. Witness the delight 
 
 With which erewhile I saw that multitude 
 
 Wheel through the sky, and see them now at rest, 
 
 Yet not at rest upon the glassy lake : 
 
 They cannot rest — they gambol like young whelps ; 
 
 Active as lambs, and overcome with joy 
 
 They try all frolic motions ; flutter, plunge, 
 
THE RECLUSE 37 
 
 And beat the passive water with their wings. 
 Too distant are they for plain view, but lo ! 
 Those little fountains, sparkling in the sun, 
 Betray their occupation, rising up 
 First one and then another silver spout, 
 As one or other takes the fit of glee, 
 Fountains and spouts, yet somewhat in the guise 
 Of plaything fireworks, that on festal nights 
 Sparkle about the feet of wanton boys. 
 — How vast the compass of this theatre, 
 Yet nothing to be seen but lovely pomp 
 And silent majesty ; the birch-tree woods 
 Are hung with thousand thousand diamond drops 
 Of melted hoar-frost, every tiny knot 
 In the bare twigs, each little budding-place 
 Cased with its several beads ; what myriads these 
 
38 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Upon one tree, while all the distant grove, 
 That rises to the summit of the steep, 
 Shows like a mountain built of silver light : 
 See yonder the same pageant, and again 
 Behold the universal imagery 
 Inverted, all its sun-bright features touched 
 As with the varnish and the gloss of dreams. 
 Dreamlike the blending also of the whole 
 Harmonious landscape : all along the shore 
 The boundary lost — the line invisible 
 That parts the image from reality ; 
 And the clear hills, as high as they ascend 
 Heavenward, so deep piercing the lake below. 
 Admonished of the days of love to come 
 The raven croaks, and fills the upper air 
 With a strange sound of genial harmony ; 
 
THE RECLUSE 39 
 
 And in and all about that playful band, 
 Incapable although they be of rest, 
 And in their fashion very rioters, 
 There is a stillness ; and they seem to make 
 Calm revelry in that their calm abode. 
 Them leaving to their joyous hours I pass, 
 Pass with a thought the life of the whole year 
 That is to come : the throng of woodland flowers 
 And lilies that will dance upon the waves. 
 
 Say boldly then that solitude is not 
 Where these things are : he truly is alone, 
 He of the multitude whose eyes are doomed 
 To hold a vacant commerce day by day 
 With Objects wanting life — repelling love ; 
 He by the vast metropolis immured, 
 Where pity shrinks from unremitting calls, 
 
40 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Where numbers overwhelm humanity, 
 And neighbourhood serves rather to divide 
 Than to unite — what sighs more deep than his, 
 Whose nobler will hath long been sacrificed ; 
 Who must inhabit under a black sky 
 A city, where, if indifference to disgust 
 Yield not to scorn or sorrow, living men 
 Are ofttimes to their fellow-men no more 
 Than to the forest Hermit are the leaves 
 That hang aloft in myriads ; nay, far less, 
 For they protect his walk from sun and shower, 
 Swell his devotion with their voice in storms, 
 And whisper while the stars twinkle among them 
 His lullaby. From crowded streets remote, 
 Far from the living and dead Wilderness 
 Of the thronged world, Society is here 
 
THE RECLUSE 41 
 
 A true community — a genuine frame 
 
 Of many into one incorporate. 
 
 That must be looked for here : paternal sway, 
 
 One household, under God, for high and low, 
 
 One family and one mansion ; to themselves 
 
 Appropriate, and divided from the world, 
 
 As if it were a cave, a multitude 
 
 Human and brute, possessors undisturbed 
 
 Of this Recess — their legislative Hall, 
 
 Their Temple, and their glorious Dwelling-place. 
 
 Dismissing therefore all Arcadian dreams, 
 All golden fancies of the golden age, 
 The bright array of shadowy thoughts from times 
 That were before all time, or are to be 
 Ere time expire, the pageantry that stirs 
 Or will be stirring, when our eyes are fixed 
 
42 THE RECLUSE 
 
 On lovely objects, and we wish to part 
 With all remembrance of a jarring world, 
 — Take we at once this one sufficient hope, 
 What need of more ? that we shall neither droop 
 Nor pine for want of pleasure in the life 
 Scattered about us, nor through want of aught 
 That keeps in health the insatiable mind. 
 — That we shall have for knowledge and for love 
 Abundance, and that feeling as we do 
 How goodly, how exceeding fair, how pure 
 From all reproach is yon ethereal vault, 
 And this deep Vale, its earthly counterpart, 
 By which and under which we are enclosed 
 To breathe in peace ; we shall moreover find 
 (If sound, and what we ought to be ourselves, 
 If rightly we observe and justly weigh) 
 
THE RECLUSE 43 
 
 The inmates not unworthy of their home, 
 The Dwellers of their Dwelling. 
 
 And if this 
 Were otherwise, we have within ourselves 
 Enough to fill the present day with joy, 
 And overspread the future years with hope, 
 Our beautiful and quiet home, enriched 
 Already with a stranger whom we love 
 Deeply, a stranger of our Father's house, 
 A never-resting Pilgrim of the Sea, 
 Who finds at last an hour to his content 
 Beneath our roof. And others whom we love 
 Will seek us also, Sisters of our hearts, 
 And one, like them, a Brother of our hearts, 
 Philosopher and Poet, in whose sight 
 These mountains will rejoice with open joy. 
 
44 THE RECLUSE 
 
 — Such is our wealth ! O Vale of Peace we are 
 
 And must be, with God's will, a happy Band. 
 
 Yet 'tis not to enjoy that we exist, 
 For that end only ; something must be done : 
 I must not walk in unreproved delight 
 These narrow bounds, and think of nothing more, 
 No duty that looks further, and no care. 
 Each Being has his office, lowly some 
 And common, yet all worthy if fulfilled 
 With zeal, acknowledgment that with the gift 
 Keeps pace a harvest answering to the seed. 
 Of ill-advised Ambition and of Pride 
 I would stand clear, but yet to me I feel 
 That an internal brightness is vouchsafed 
 That must not die, that must not pass away. 
 Why does this inward lustre fondly seek 
 
THE RECLUSE 45 
 
 And gladly blend with outward fellowship ? 
 Why do they shine around me whom I love ? 
 Why do they teach me, whom I thus revere ? 
 Strange question, yet it answers not itself. 
 That humble Roof embowered among the trees, 
 That calm fireside, it is not even in them, 
 Blest as they are, to furnish a reply 
 That satisfies and ends in perfect rest. 
 Possessions have I that are solely mine, 
 Something within which yet is shared by none, 
 Not even the nearest to me and most dear, 
 Something which power and effort may impart ; 
 I would impart it, I would spread it wide : 
 Immortal in the world which is to come — 
 Forgive me if I add another claim — 
 And would not wholly perish even in this, 
 
46 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Lie down and be forgotten in the dust, 
 I and the modest Partners of my days 
 Making a silent company in death ; 
 Love, knowledge, all my manifold delights, 
 All buried with me without monument 
 Or profit unto any but ourselves ! 
 It must not be, if I, divinely taught, 
 Be privileged to speak as I have felt 
 Of what in man is human or divine. 
 
 While yet an innocent little one, with a heart 
 That doubtless wanted not its tender moods, 
 I breathed (for this I better recollect) 
 Among wild appetites and blind desires, 
 Motions of savage instinct my delight 
 And exaltation. Nothing at that time 
 So welcome, no temptation half so dear 
 
THE RECLUSE 47 
 
 As that which urged me to a daring feat, 
 Deep pools, tall trees, black chasms, and dizzy 
 
 crags, 
 And tottering towers : I loved to stand and read 
 Their looks forbidding, read and disobey, 
 Sometimes in act and evermore in thought. 
 With impulses, that scarcely were by these 
 Surpassed in strength, I heard of danger met 
 Or sought with courage ; enterprise forlorn 
 By one, sole keeper of his own intent, 
 Or by a resolute few, who for the sake 
 Of glory fronted multitudes in arms. 
 Yea, to this hour I cannot read a Tale 
 Of two brave vessels matched in deadly fight, 
 And fighting to the death, but I am pleased 
 More than a wise man ought to be ; I wish, 
 
48 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Fret, burn, and struggle, and in soul am there. 
 
 But me hath Nature tamed, and bade to seek 
 
 For other agitations, or be calm ; 
 
 Hath dealt with me as with a turbulent stream, 
 
 Some nursling of the mountains which she leads 
 
 Through quiet meadows, after he has learnt 
 
 His strength, and had his triumph and his joy, 
 
 His desperate course of tumult and of glee. 
 
 That which in stealth by Nature was performed 
 
 Hath Reason sanctioned ; her deliberate Voice 
 
 Hath said ; be mild, and cleave to gentle things, 
 
 Thy glory and thy happiness be there. 
 
 Nor fear, though thou confide in me, a want 
 
 Of aspirations that have been — of foes 
 
 To wrestle with, and victory to complete, 
 
 Bounds to be leapt, darkness to be explored ; 
 
THE RECLUSE 49 
 
 All that inflamed thy infant heart, the love, 
 The longing, the contempt, the undaunted quest, 
 All shall survive, though changed their oflice, all 
 Shall live, it is not in their power to die. 
 
 Then farewell to the Warrior's Schemes, farewell 
 The forwardness of soul which looks that way 
 Upon a less incitement than the Cause 
 Of Liberty endangered, and farewell 
 That other hope, long mine, the hope to fill 
 The heroic trumpet with the Muse's breath ! 
 Yet in this peaceful Vale we will not spend 
 Unheard-of days, though loving peaceful thought, 
 A voice shall speak, and what will be the theme ? 
 
 On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, 
 Musing in solitude, I oft perceive 
 Fair trains of imagery before me rise, 
 
 E 
 
50 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Accompanied by feelings of delight 
 
 Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed ; 
 
 And I am conscious of affecting thoughts 
 
 And dear remembrances, whose presence soothes 
 
 Or elevates the Mind, intent to weigh 
 
 The good and evil of our mortal state. 
 
 — To these emotions, whencesoe'er they come, 
 
 Whether from breath of outward circumstance, 
 
 Or from the Soul — an impulse to herself — 
 
 I would give utterance in numerous verse. 
 
 Of Truth, of Grandeur, Beauty, Love, and Hope, 
 
 And melancholy Fear subdued by Faith ; 
 
 Of blessed consolations in distress ; 
 
 Of moral strength, and intellectual Power ; 
 
 Of joy in widest commonalty spread ; 
 
 Of the individual Mind that keeps her own 
 
THE RECLUSE 51 
 
 Inviolate retirement, subject there 
 To Conscience only, and the law supreme 
 Of that Intelligence which governs all — - 
 I sing : — "fit audience let me find though few ! " 
 So' prayed, more gaining than he asked, the 
 Bard— 
 In holiest mood. Urania, I shall need 
 Thy guidance, or a greater Muse, if such 
 Descend to earth or dwell in highest heaven ! 
 For I must tread on shadowy ground, must sink 
 Deep — and, aloft ascending, breathe in worlds 
 To which the heaven of heavens is but a veil. 
 All strength — all terror, single or in bands, 
 That ever was put forth in personal form — 
 Jehovah — with his thunder, and the choir 
 Of shouting Angels, and the empyreal thrones — 
 
52 THE RECLUSE 
 
 I pass them unalarmed. Not Chaos, not 
 
 The darkest pit of lowest Erebus, 
 
 Nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out 
 
 By help of dreams — can breed such fear and awe 
 
 As fall upon us often when we look 
 
 Into our Minds, into the Mind of Man — 
 
 My haunt, and the main region of my song 
 
 — Beauty — a living Presence of the earth, 
 
 Surpassing the most fair ideal Forms 
 
 Which craft of delicate Spirits hath composed 
 
 From earth's materials — waits upon my steps ; 
 
 Pitches her tents before me as I move, 
 
 An hourly neighbour. Paradise, and groves 
 
 Elysian, Fortunate Fields — like those of old 
 
 Sought in the Atlantic Main — why should they be 
 
 A history only of departed things, 
 
THE RECLUSE 53 
 
 Or a mere fiction of what never was ? 
 For the discerning intellect of Man, 
 When wedded to this goodly universe 
 In love and holy passion, shall find these 
 A simple produce of the common day. 
 — I, long before the blissful hour arrives, 
 Would chant, in lonely peace, the spousal verse 
 Of this great consummation : — and, by words 
 Which speak of nothing more than what we are, 
 Would I arouse the sensual from their sleep 
 Of Death, and win the vacant and the vain 
 To noble raptures ; while my voice proclaims 
 How exquisitely the individual Mind 
 (And the progressive powers perhaps no less 
 Of the whole species) to the external World 
 Is fitted : — and how exquisitely, too — ■ 
 
54 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Theme this but little heard of among men — 
 
 The external World is fitted to the Mind ; 
 
 And the creation (by no lower name 
 
 Can it be called) which they with blended might 
 
 Accomplish : — this is our high argument. 
 
 — Such grateful haunts foregoing, if I oft 
 
 Must turn elsewhere — to travel near the tribes 
 
 And fellowships of men, and see ill sights 
 
 Of madding passions mutually inflamed ; 
 
 Must hear Humanity in fields and groves 
 
 Pipe solitary anguish ; or must hang 
 
 Brooding above the fierce confederate storm 
 
 Of sorrow, barricadoed evermore 
 
 Within the walls of cities — may these sounds 
 
 Have their authentic comment ; that even these 
 
 Hearing, I be not downcast or forlorn ! — 
 
THE RECLUSE 55 
 
 Descend, prophetic Spirit ! that inspir'st 
 The human Soul of universal earth, 
 Dreaming on things to come ; and dost possess 
 A metropolitan temple in the hearts 
 Of mighty Poets ; upon me bestow 
 A gift of genuine insight ; that my Song 
 With star-like virtue in its place may shine, 
 Shedding benignant influence, and secure 
 Itself from all malevolent effect 
 Of those mutations that extend their sway 
 Throughout the nether sphere ! — And if with this 
 I mix more lowly matter ; with the thing 
 Contemplated, describe the Mind and Man 
 Contemplating ; and who, and what he was — 
 The transitory Being that beheld 
 This Vision ; — when and where, and how he lived ; 
 
56 THE RECLUSE 
 
 Be not this labour useless. If such theme 
 
 May sort with highest objects, then — dread Power ! 
 
 Whose gracious favour is the primal source 
 
 Of all illumination — may my Life 
 
 Express the image of a better time, 
 
 More wise desires, and simpler manners ; — nurse 
 
 My Heart in genuine freedom : — all pure thoughts 
 
 Be with me ; — so shall thy unfailing love 
 
 Guide, and support, and cheer me to the end ! 
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh