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For,
Resolution and Independence
There was a roaring
in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell
in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
Over his
own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;
The Jay makes
answer as the Magpie chatters;
And all the air is
filled with pleasant noise of waters.
All things
that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices
in the morning's birth;
The grass is bright with
rain-drops; -on the moors
The Hare is running races
in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy
earth
Raises a mist; that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
I was a traveller then upon the moor;
I saw the
Hare that raced about with joy;
I heard the woods and
distant waters roar;
Or heard them not, as happy as a
boy:
The pleasant season did my heart employ:
My
old remembrances went from me wholly;
And all the
ways of men, so vain and melancholy!
But, as it
sometimes chanceth, from the might
Of joy in minds
that can no further go,
As high as we have mounted in
delight
In our dejection do we sink as low,
To me
that morning did it happen so;
And fears and fancies
thick upon me came;
Dim sadness -and blind thoughts,
I knew not, nor could name.
I heard the Skylark
warbling in the sky;
And I bethought me of the
playful Hare:
Even such a happy Child of earth am I;
Even as these blissful creatures do I fare;
Far from
the world I walk, and from all care;
But there may
come another day to me -
Solitude, pain of heart,
distress, and poverty.
My whole life I have lived
in pleasant thought,
As if life's business were a
summer mood:
As if all needful things would come
unsought
To genial faith, still rich in genial good:
But how can He expect that others should
Build for
him, sow for him, and at his call
Love him, who for
himself will take no heed at all?
I thought of
Chatterton, the marvellous Boy,
The sleepless Soul
that perished in his pride;
Of Him who walked in
glory and in joy
Following his plough, along the
mountain-side:
By our own spirits are we deified;
We Poets in our youth begin in gladness;
But thereof
comes in the end despondency and madness.
Now,
whether it were by peculiar grace,
A leading from
above, a something given,
Yet it befell that, in this
lonely place,
When I with these untoward thoughts had
striven,
Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven
I
saw a Man before me unawares:
The oldest man he
seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
As a huge Stone
is sometimes seen to lie
Couched on the bald top of
an eminence;
Wonder to all who do the same espy,
By what means it could thither come, and whence;
So
that it seems a thing endued with sense:
Like a
Sea-beast crawled forth, that on a shelf
Of rock or
sand reposeth, there to sun itself;
Such seemed
this Man, not all alive nor dead,
Nor all asleep -in
his extreme old age:
His body was bent double, feet
and head
Coming together in life's pilgrimage;
As
if some dire constraint of pain, or rage
Of sickness
felt by him in times long past,
A more than human
weight upon his frame had cast.
Himself he
propped, his body, limbs, and face,
Upon a long grey
Staff of shaven wood:
And, still as I drew near with
gentle pace,
Upon the margin of that moorish flood
Motionless as a Cloud the Old-man stood;
That heareth
not the loud winds when they call;
And moveth all
together, if it move at all.
At length, himself
unsettling, he the Pond
Stirred with his Staff, and
fixedly did look
Upon the muddy water, which he
conned,
As if he had been reading in a book:
And
now a stranger's privilege I took;
And, drawing to
his side, to him did say,
"This morning gives us
promise of a glorious day."
A gentle answer did
the Old-man make,
In courteous speech which forth he
slowly drew:
And him with further words I thus
bespake,
"What occupation do you there pursue?
This is a lonesome place for one like you."
He
answered, while a flash of mild surprise
Broke from
the sable orbs of his yet vivid eyes.
His words
came feebly, from a feeble chest,
But each in solemn
order followed each,
With something of a lofty
utterance drest -
Choice word and measured phrase,
above the reach
Of ordinary men; a stately speech;
Such as grave livers do in Scotland use,
Religious
men, who give to God and Man their dues.
He told,
that to these waters he had come
To gather Leeches,
being old and poor:
Employment hazardous and
wearisome!
And he had many hardships to endure;
From pond to pond he roamed, form moor to moor;
Housing, with God's good help, by choice or chance;
And in this way he gained and honest maintenance.
The Old-man still stood talking by my side;
But
now his voice to me was like a stream
Scarce heard;
nor word from word could I divide;
And the whole Body
of the Man did seem
Like one whom I had met with in a
dream;
Or like a man from some far region sent,
To
give me human strength, by apt admonishment.
My
former thoughts returned: the fear that kills;
And
hope that is unwilling to be fed;
Cold, pain, and
labour, and all fleshly ills;
And mighty Poets in
their misery dead.
- Perplexed, and longing to be
comforted,
My question eagerly did I renew,
"How
is it that you live, and what is it you do?"
He
with a smile did then his words repeat;
And said
that, gathering Leeches, far and wide
He travelled;
stirring thus about his feet
The waters of the Pools
where they abide.
"Once I could meet with them on
every side;
But they have dwindled long by slow
decay;
Yet still I persevere, and find them where I
may."
While he was talking thus, the lonely
place,
The Old-man's shape, and speech, all troubled
me:
In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace
About the weary moors continually,
Wandering about
alone and silently.
While I these thoughts within
myself pursued,
He, having made a pause, the same
discourse renewed.
And soon with this he other
matter blended,
Cheerfully uttered, with demeanour
kind,
But stately in the main; and when he ended,
I could have laughed myself to scorn to find
In that
decrepit Man so firm a mind.
"God," said I, "be my
help and stay secure;
I'll think of the
Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!"
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