COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY SPLENDOUR AND BEAUTY
Felt and in a great measure composed upon the little mount in
front of our abode at Rydal. In concluding my notices of this
class of poems it may be as well to observe that among the
"Miscellaneous Sonnets" are a few alluding to morning impressions
which might be read with mutual benefit in connection with these
"Evening Voluntaries." See, for example, that one on Westminster
Bridge, that composed on a May morning, the one on the song of the
Thrush, and that beginning--"While beams of orient light shoot
wide and high."
HAD this effulgence disappeared
With flying haste, I might have sent,
Among the speechless clouds, a look
Of blank astonishment;
But 'tis endued with power to stay,
And sanctify one closing day,
That frail Mortality may see--
What is?--ah no, but what 'can' be!
Time was when field and watery cove
With modulated echoes rang,
While choirs of fervent Angels sang
Their vespers in the grove;
Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign height,
Warbled, for heaven above and earth below,
Strains suitable to both.--Such holy rite,
Methinks, if audibly repeated now
From hill or valley, could not move
Sublimer transport, purer love,
Than doth this silent spectacle--the gleam--
The shadow--and the peace supreme!
No sound is uttered,--but a deep
And solemn harmony pervades
The hollow vale from steep to steep,
And penetrates the glades.
Far-distant images draw nigh,
Called forth by wondrous potency
Of beamy radiance, that imbues,
Whate'er it strikes, with gem-like hues!
In vision exquisitely clear,
Herds range along the mountain side;
And glistening antlers are descried;
And gilded flocks appear.
Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve!
But long as god-like wish, or hope divine,
Informs my spirit, ne'er can I believe
That this magnificence is wholly thine!
--From worlds not quickened by the sun
A portion of the gift is won;
An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread
On ground which British shepherds tread!
And, if there be whom broken ties
Afflict, or injuries assail,
Yon hazy ridges to their eyes
Present a glorious scale,
Climbing suffused with sunny air,
To stop--no record hath told where!
And tempting Fancy to ascend,
And with immortal Spirits blend!
--Wings at my shoulders seem to play;
But, rooted here, I stand and gaze
On those bright steps that heavenward raise
Their practicable way.
Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad,
And see to what fair countries ye are bound!
And if some traveller, weary of his road,
Hath slept since noon-tide on the grassy ground,
Ye Genii! to his covert speed;
And wake him with such gentle heed
As may attune his soul to meet the dower
Bestowed on this transcendent hour!
Such hues from their celestial Urn
Were wont to stream before mine eye,
Where'er it wandered in the morn
Of blissful infancy.
This glimpse of glory, why renewed?
Nay, rather speak with gratitude;
For, if a vestige of those gleams
Survived, 'twas only in my dreams.
Dread Power! whom peace and calmness serve
No less than Nature's threatening voice,
If aught unworthy be my choice,
From THEE if I would swerve;
Oh, let thy grace remind me of the light
Full early lost, and fruitlessly deplored;
Which, at this moment, on my waking sight
Appears to shine, by miracle restored;
My soul, though yet confined to earth,
Rejoices in a second birth!
--'Tis past, the visionary splendour fades;
And night approaches with her shades.
Stanza 3, 8: 'Wings at my shoulders seem to play.'
In these lines I am under obligation to the exquisite picture of
"Jacob's Dream," by Mr. Alstone, now in America. It is pleasant to
make this public acknowledgment to a man of genius, whom I have
the honour to rank among my friends.
NOTE.--The multiplication of mountain-ridges, described at the
commencement of the third Stanza of this Ode, as a kind of Jacob's
Ladder, leading to Heaven, is produced either by watery vapours,
or sunny haze;--in the present instance by the latter cause.
Allusions to the Ode, entitled "Intimations of Immortality,"
pervade the last stanza of the foregoing Poem.