[This was written immediately after my return from France to London, when I could not but be struck, as here described, with the vanity and parade of our own country, especially in great towns and cities, as contrasted with the quiet, and I may say the desolation, that the Revolution had produced in France. This must be borne in mind, or else the reader may think that in this and the succeeding Sonnets I have exaggerated the mischief engendered and fostered among us by undisturbed wealth. It would not be easy to conceive with what a depth of feeling I entered into the struggle carried on by the Spaniards for their deliverance from the usurped power of the French. Many times have I gone from Allan Bank in Grasmere Vale, where we were then residing, to the top of Raise-gap, as it is called, so late as two o'clock in the morning, to meet the carrier bringing the newspapers from Keswick. Imperfect traces of the state of mind in which I then was may be found in my tract on the Convention of Cintra, as well as in these Sonnets.]

O FRIEND! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,

To think that now our life is only drest

For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,
Or groom!We must run glittering like a brook
In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:
The wealthiest man among us is the best:
No grandeur now in nature or in book
Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,
This is idolatry: and these we adore:
Plain living and high thinking are no more:
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.

Wordsworth stayed in London from August 30th to September 22nd 1802.-ED.

MILTON! thou should'st be living at this hour:

England hath need of thee: she is a fen

Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,

Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart:
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,

So didst thou travel on life's common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart

The lowliest duties on herself did lay.1

GREAT men have been among us; hands that penned.

And tongues that uttered wisdom-better none :

The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,

Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend.
These moralists could act and comprehend:

They knew how genuine glory was put on;

Taught us how rightfully a nation shone

In splendour: what strength was that would not bend
But in magnanimous meekness. France, 'tis strange,
Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then.
Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change!
No single volume paramount, no code,

No master spirit, no determined road;

But equally a want of books and men!

IT IS NOT TO BE THOUGHT OF THAT THE FLOOD.

It is not to be thought of that the Flood

Of British freedom, which, to the open sea

1 1820.

on itself did lay.

1807.

Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood,
Roused though it be full often to a mood
Which spurns the check of salutary bands,1
That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands
Should perish; and to evil and to good
Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung
Armoury of the invincible Knights of old:
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held.-In every thing we are sprung
Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.

WHEN I HAVE BORNE IN MEMORY WHAT HAS TAMED. Pub. 1807.

Comp. Sept. 1802.

WHEN I have borne in memory what has tamed
Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart
When men change swords for ledgers, and desert
The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed
I had, my Country am I to be blamed?
Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art,2
Verily, in the bottom of my heart,

Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.

For dearly must we prize thee; we who find

In thee a bulwark for the cause of men;
And I by my affection was beguiled:
What wonder if a Poet now and then,
Among the many movements of his mind,
Felt for thee as a lover or a child!

Road by which all might come and go that would,
And bear out freights of worth to foreign lands.

1807.

2

1845.

But, when I think of thee,

1807.

COMPOSED AFTER A JOURNEY ACROSS THE HAMBLETON HILLS, YORKSHIRE.

[Composed October 4th, 1802, after a journey over the Hambleton Hills, on a day memorable to me-the day of my marriage. The horizon commanded by those hills is most magnificent. The next day, while we were travelling in a post-chaise up Wensleydale, we were stopped by one of the horses proving restive, and were obliged to wait two hours in a severe storm before the post-boy could fetch from the inn another to supply its place. The spot was in front of Bolton Hall, where Mary Queen of Scots was kept prisoner, soon after her unfortunate landing at Workington. The place then belonged to the Scroops, and memorials of her are yet preserved there. To beguile the time I composed a Sonnet. The subject was our own confinement contrasted with hers; but it was not thought worthy of being preserved.]

DARK and more dark the shades of evening fell;
The wished-for point was reached-but at an hour
When little could be gained from that rich dower
Of prospect, whereof many thousands tell.1
Yet did the glowing west with marvellous power
Salute us; there stood Indian citadel,
Temple of Greece, and minster with its tower
Substantially expressed-a place for bell
Or clock to toll from !2 Many a tempting isle

1 1836.

Ere we had reached the wished-for place night fell
We were too late at least by one dark hour,
And nothing could we see of all that power
Of prospect, whereof many thousands tell.

1807.

Dark, and more dark, the shades of Evening fell;

The wished-for point was reached—but late the hour;
And little could we see of all that power
Of prospect,

1815.

And little could be gained from all that dower
Of prospect,

1827.

2

1836.

The western sky did recompense us well

With Grecian Temple, Minaret, and Bower;
And, in one part a Minster with its Tower
Substantially distinct .

1807.

With groves that never were imagined, lay
'Mid seas how steadfast! objects all for the eye
Of silent rapture1; but we felt the while
We should forget them; they are of the sky,
And from our earthly memory fade away.

Evidence, which it is unnecessary to state, led me (in preparing the Chronological Table in Vol. I.) to fix the 13th of July 1802 as the date of the composition of this Sonnet. The subjoined extract from Miss Wordsworth's journal shows that Wordsworth and she crossed over the Hambleton (or Hamilton) Hills that evening, on their way from Westmoreland to Gallow Hill, Yorkshire, to visit the Hutchinsons, before they went south to London and Calais, where they spent the month of August. But after his marriage to Mary Hutchinson, on the 4th of October, Wordsworth recrossed these Hambleton Hills on his way to Grasmere, which he reached on the evening of the 6th October; and the preceding Sonnet was composed on the evening of the 4th, as the Fenwick note indicates. The record in his sister's journal of their walk on the 13th July is as follows:-"Walked by Emont Bridge, thence by Greta Bridge. The sun shone cheerfully, and a glorious ride we had over the moors; every building bathed in golden light: we saw round us miles beyond miles, Darlington spire, &c. Thence to Thirsk; on foot to the Hamilton hills-Rivaux. I went down to look at the ruins thrushes singing, cattle feeding amongst the ruins of the Abbey; green hillocks about the ruins; these hillocks scattered over with grovelets of wild roses, and covered with wild flowers. I could have stayed in this solemn quiet spot till evening without a thought of moving, but W. was waiting for me."-ED.

Substantially expressed

Yet did the glowing west in all its power

Salute us; there stood Indian citadel

Temple of Greece and minster with its tower
Substantially expressed,

1815.

1827.

Did we behold, sights that might well repay
All disappointment! and, as such, the eye
Delighted in them;

1807.