Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore;-1
All, all are English. Oft have I looked round
With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found
Myself so satisfied in heart before.

Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass,
Thought for another moment. Thou art free,
My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride
For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass
Of England once again, and hear and see,
With such a dear Companion at my side.

“On 29th Aug. left Calais, at twelve in the morning for Dover. Bathed, and sat on the Dover Cliffs, looked upon France. We could see the shores about as plain as if it were but an English lake. Mounted the coach at half-past four; arrived in London at six."-(Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal.)

[Among the capricious acts of tyranny that disgraced those times, was the chasing of all negroes from France by decree of the government : we had a Fellow-passenger who was one of the expelled.]

WE had a female Passenger who came2
From Calais with us, spotless in array,3
A white-robed Negro, like a lady gay,

Yet downcast as a woman fearing blame;1
Meek, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim2
She sate, from notice turning not away,
But on all proffered intercourse did lay3
A weight of languid speech, or to the same
No sign of answer made by word or face :
Yet still her eyes retained their tropic fire,
That, burning independent of the mind,
Joined with the lustre of her rich attire

To mock the Outcast-O ye Heavens, be kind!
And feel, thou Earth, for this afflicted Race! 5

It was a natural arrangement which led Wordsworth to place this Sonnet immediately after the one addressed To Toussaint L'Ouverture.— ED.

She was a Negro woman driven from France,
Rejected like all others of her race,

Not one of whom may now find footing there;
This the poor Outcast did to us declare,
Nor murmured at the unfeeling Ordinance.

1807.

Meanwhile these eyes retained their tropic fire,
Which, burning independent of the mind,
Joined with the lustre of her rich attire

To mock the outcast-O ye Heavens be kind!
And feel, thou earth, for this afflicted race!

Yet still these eyes retained
Which burning

1827.

1836.

INLAND, within a hollow vale I stood;

And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear,
The coast of France-the coast of France how near!
Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.

I shrunk; for verily the barrier flood

Was like a lake, or river bright and fair,

A span of waters; yet what power is there!
What mightiness for evil and for good!
Even so doth God protect us if we be

Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and waters roll,
Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity;
Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree
Spake laws to them, and said that by the soul
Only, the Nations shall be great and free.

Coleridge, in The Friend, thus refers to the above sonnet :— "The narrow seas that form our boundaries, what were they in times of old? The convenient highway for Danish and Norman pirates. What are they now? Still, but a 'Span of Waters.' Yet they roll at the base of the Ararat, on which the Ark of the Hope of Europe and of Civilization rested!"

Even so doth God protect us, if we be

Virtuous and wise. Winds blow and waters roll,
Strength to the brave, and power, and Deity:
Yet in themselves are nothing! One Decree
Spake laws to them, and said that by the Soul
Only, the Nations shall be great and free !"
The Friend, Vol. I., p. 106.

The note appended to the previous sonnet, "composed in the Valley near Dover, on the day of landing," shows that this one refers to the same occasion; and that while "inland, within a hollow vale," he was at the same time on the Dover Cliffs-the "vale" being one of the hollow clefts in the headland, which front the Dover coast-line. The sonnet may have been composed, however, afterwards in London, and the date given to it by Wordsworth (September) be correct.—ED.

[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.