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,
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
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

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;
All that inflamed thy infant heart, the love,
The longing, the contempt, the undaunted
quest,

All shall survive, though changed their office, 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,

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,

theme?

On Man, on Nature, and on Human
Life,

Musing in solitude, I oft perceive
Fair trains of imagery before me rise,
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
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 formJehovah with his thunder, and the choir Of shouting Angels, and the empyreal thrones

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 com-

posed

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,
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 pro-
claims

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-
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 !—
Descend, prophetic Spirit! that inspir'st1
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
1 See Note.

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;

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!

CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY

WARRIOR

The course of the great war with the French naturally fixed one's attention upon the military character, and, to the honour of our country, there were many illustrious instances of the qualities that constitute its highest excellence. Lord Nelson carried most of the virtues that the trials he was exposed to in his department of the service necessarily call forth and sustain, if they do not produce the contrary vices. But his public life was stained with one great crime, so that, though many passages of these lines were suggested by what was generally known as excellent in his conduct, I have not been able to connect his name with the poem as I could wish, or even to think of him with satisfaction in reference to the idea of what a warrior ought to be. For the sake of such of my friends as may happen to read this note I will add, that many elements of the character here pourtrayed were found in my brother John, who perished by shipwreck as mentioned elsewhere. His messmates used to call him the Philosopher, from which it must be inferred that the qualities and dispositions I allude to had not escaped their notice. He often expressed his regret, after the war had continued some time, that he had not chosen the Naval, instead of the East India Company's service, to which his family connection had led him. He greatly valued moral and religious instruction for

youth, as tending to make good sailors. The best, he used to say, came from Scotland; the next to them, from the North of England, especially from Westmoreland and Cumberland, where, thanks to the piety and local attachments of our ancestors, endowed, or, as they are commonly called, free, schools abound.

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:

Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn;

Abides by this resolve, and stops not there,
But makes his moral being his prime care;
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain,
And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train !
Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power
Which is our human nature's highest dower;
Controls them and subdues, transmutes,

bereaves

Of their bad influence, and their good receives:

By objects, which might force the soul to abate

Her feeling, rendered more compassionate;
Is placable-because occasions rise
So often that demand such sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge, even more
pure,

As tempted more; more able to endure,
As more exposed to suffering and distress;
Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.

'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence, in a state where men are tempted

still

To evil for a guard against worse ill,
And what in quality or act is best
Doth seldom on a right foundation rest,
He labours good on good to fix, and owes
To virtue every triumph that he knows:
-Who, if he rise to station of command,
Rises by open means; and there will stand
On honourable terms, or else retire,
And in himself possess his own desire;

Who comprehends his trust, and to the

same

Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait

For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state; Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall,

Like showers of manna, if they come at all: Whose powers shed round him in the common strife,

Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar grace;
But who, if he be called upon to face
Some awful moment to which Heaven has
joined

Great issues, good or bad for human kind,
Is happy as a Lover; and attired
With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired;
And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the
law

In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw;
Or if an unexpected call succeed,
Come when it will, is equal to the need:
-He who, though thus endued as with a

sense

And faculty for storm and turbulence,
Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans
To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes;
Sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he be,
Are at his heart; and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to approve;
More brave for this, that he hath much to
love:-

'Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high,
Conspicuous object in a Nation's eye,
Or left unthought-of in obscurity,—
Who, with a toward or untoward lot,
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not-
Plays, in the many games of life, that one
Where what he most doth value must be
won:

Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness betray;
Who, not content that former worth stand
fast,

Looks forward, persevering to the last, From well to better, daily self-surpast: Who, whether praise of him must walk the

earth

For ever, and to noble deeds give birth, Or he must fall, to sleep without his fame, And leave a dead unprofitable nameFinds comfort in himself and in his cause;