I cannot bring to utter woe Your proved fidelity."— The bold good Man his labour sped At nature's pure command; "Dear Child, sweet Mistress, say not so! Heart-soothed, and busy as a wren, For you we both would die." "Nay, nay, I come with semblance feign'd And cheek embrown'd by art; Yet, being inwardly unstain'd, With courage will depart." While, in a hollow nook, She moulds her sight-eluding den Above a murmuring brook. His task accomplish'd to his mind, The twain ere break of day "But whither would you, could you, flee ?4 Creep forth, and through the forest wind A poor Man's counsel take; The Holy Virgin gives to me A thought for your dear sake: Rest, shielded by our Lady's grace, And soon shall you be led Forth to a safe abiding-place, Where never foot doth tread." PART II. THE dwelling of this faithful pair And there, sequester'd from the sight, And midway in th' unsafe morass Of firm dry ground, with healthful grass The Woodman knew for such the craft That never fowler's gun, nor shaft From all intrusion free; And there he plann'd an artful Cot For perfect secrecy. With earnest pains uncheck'd by dread Of Power's far-stretching hand, 4 The meaning probably is, " Whither would you flee, if you could?" Their solitary way; Few words they speak, nor dare to slack Their pace from mile to mile, Till they have cross'd the quaking marsh, And reach'd the lonely Isle. The Sun above the pine-trees show'd The promised hiding-place: She sought in vain, the Woodman smiled; No threshold could be seen, Nor roof, nor window; -all seem'd wild As it had ever been. Advancing, you might guess an hour, As shaggy as were wall and roof And hearth was there, and maple dish, And cups in seemly rows, And couch,- all ready to a wish For nurture or repose; And Heaven doth to her virtue grant In solitude, with every want No queen, before a shouting crowd, E'er struggled with a heart so proud, 5 Some obscurity here, perhaps; but the word if is construed with guess, and is equivalent to whether; the sense thus being, "you might guess an hour whether it be a house," &c. "Father of all, upon Thy care And mercy am I thrown; |Upon her Island desolate; And words, not breathed in vain, Be Thou my safeguard!" such her prayer Might tell what intercourse she found, Yet, when above the forest glooms The white swans southward pass'd, High as the pitch of their swift plumes Her fancy rode the blast; And bore her toward the fields of France To mingle in the rustic dance, 6 It may be well to note that bay and laurel mean the same thing. Wordsworth probably had in mind a passage of The Faerie Queene, i. 1, 9: "The laurell, meed Of those beloved fields she oft of mightie conquerours and poets sage." Had heard her Father tell, In phrase that now with echoes soft PART IV. THE ever-changing Moon had traced Twelve times her monthly round, When through the unfrequented Waste Was heard a startling sound; A shout thrice sent from one who chased At speed a wounded deer, Bounding through branches interlaced, And where the wood was clear. The fainting creature took the marsh, While plovers scream'd with tumult harsh This, Ina saw; and, pale with fear, Shrunk to her citadel; The desperate deer rush'd on, and near The tangled covert fell. Across the marsh, the game in view, Nor paused, till o'er the stag he blew From your deportment, Sir, I deem Tears might be shed, and I might pray, The knee that bends to adore I speak not of the Winter's cold, While I have lodged in this rough hold, From social life estranged; Nor yet of trouble and alarms: High Heaven is my defence; From Moscow to the Wilderness Retain his lawless will, To end life here like this poor deer, "Are you the Maid," the Stranger cried, But wonder, pity, soon were quell'd; The soul's pure brightness he beheld He loved, he hoped, -a holy flame Kindled 'mid rapturous tears; The passion of a moment came As on the wings of years. "Such bounty is no gift of chance," | Preparing your deliverance, But, when the Lady Catherine 7 pleads, "Leave open to my wish the course, And I to her will go; From that humane and heavenly source, Good, only good, can flow." Faint sanction given, the Cavalier Was eager to depart, Though question follow'd question, dear To the Maiden's filial heart. Light was his step,-his hopes, more light, Kept pace with his desires; 7 This was the famous lady then bearing that name as the acknowledged wife of Peter the Great. And the fifth morning gave him sight The Emperor sent a pledge as strong O more than mighty change! If e'er But, seeing no relief, at last "Ah!" said the Briar, "blame me not; You stirr'd me on my rocky ked, "Twas when the Parents, who had mourn'd Nor was it common gratitude "BEGONE, thou fond presumptuous Elf," Came thundering loud and fast; "Dost thou presume my course to block? A careful student he had been Off, off! or, puny Thing, I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock The Flood was tyrannous and strong; Among the woods and hills. One Winter's night, when thro' the trees "I saw a crag, a lofty stone As ever tempest beat; Out of its head an Oak had grown, A Broom out of its feet. The time was March, a cheerful noon, Disasters, do the best we can, Will reach both great and small; And he is oft the wisest man, Who is not wise at all. For me, why should I wish to roam? The thaw-wind, with the breath of June, This spot is my paternal home, Breathed gently from the warm South-It is my pleasant heritage; When, in a voice sedate with age, [west; My father many a happy year This Oak, a giant and a sage, His neighbour thus address'd: Spread here his careless blossoms, here Attain'd a good old age. Even such as his may be my lot. On me such bounty Summer pours, The butterfly, all green and gold, To me hath often flown, And yet, just three years back-no more,- Here in my blossoms to behold |