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EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY, AND THE
TABLES TURNED

Pp. 383 f. In a note, Wordsworth tells us that these two poems "arose out of conversation with a friend who was somewhat unreasonably attached to modern books of moral philosophy." They are companion poems, though they do not present, as the titles might lead one to expect, different phases of the same subject. The tables are turned only in the sense that, whereas in the first poem the poet's friend had expostulated with him, in the second the poet takes his turn; but in both the poet makes his own ideas and attitude prevail.

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The subject of both poems is Wordsworth's favorite doctrine of the powerful moral influence of nature - of birds and trees and flowers and beautiful streams, of sunrise and sunset and starlight upon the character of any one who loves these things and lives in sympathetic communion with them. In another beautiful poem (Three Years She Grew, p. 386) he carries the doctrine still further and asserts that grace of form and beauty of face will pass from the graceful and beautiful objects of nature to the child who grows up among them (see especially ll. 19-24 and 29-30 of that poem).

If there is any difference at all between the doctrine set forth in Expostulation and Reply and that in The Tables Turned, it is merely that the influence of nature upon the passive mind is emphasized in the former, while in the latter a more active attitude is suggested by the words "That watches and receives," 1. 32.

LINES COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE

TINTERN ABBEY

Pp. 384 ff. Wordsworth had visited the valley of the Wye, one of the most picturesque spots in England, in 1793 five years, as he tells us, before the visit in company with his sister recorded in this poem. A little below Monmouth the valley of the Wye contracts and is enclosed by steep, wooded hills. Lines 10-22 (especially 10-11 and 14-16) indicate that he is on the cliffs, with the valley spread out beneath him. The poem is notable not so much because it gives explicit expression to the three phases of the love of nature recognized by Wordsworth, as because it is, in intensity of spiritual emotion, in the novelty and truth of its poetical ideas, and in beauty and suggestiveness of phrasing, one of the most perfect poems ever written. In connection with it, the reader should by all means consult other passages in which Words

worth has dealt with the same themes, notably The Prelude, Bk. I, II. 401-463; Bk. VIII, II. 340-356; and The Recluse (cf. especially the extract in this book, pp. 387 f.). It may aid the reader in following the course of the poet's thought to note that 11. 1-22 are devoted to his return to the scene after a long absence; l. 22-57 express the influence of these beauteous forms in absence upon his feelings and his insight into the meaning of life; in ll. 57-65 he expresses the hope that this visit, by renewing the memories of these forms, may supply "life and food" in future years; 11. 65-85 paint his feeling for nature at the time of his former visit (age 23); l. 85-111, his maturer feeling; l. 11I119 tell how his former pleasures revive in the influence of nature upon his sister; in l. 119-134 he prays that this influence may continue, and sets forth the elevating and soothing power of nature; in ll. 134-146 he exhorts his sister to experience all these sweet sensations and store them in memory as antidotes for future sorrows; and in l. 145159 bids her then remember him and his love for this landscape.

1. 29. Why "purer mind"?

11. 25-30. Compare The Reverie of Poor Susan and The Prelude, Bk. VII, especially the last two paragraphs.

11. 38-40. Compare The Prelude, Bks. XI and XIII.

11. 43-46. Note the mysticism of this passage and compare it with the Ode on Intimations of Immortality, ll. 141-145, and the notes on Tennyson's St. Agnes' Eve.

P. 385. 1. 54. hung upon is used rather curiously. It does not mean "depended upon," but "weighed upon."

Il. 93-102. These lines have sometimes been taken as pantheistic, but pantheism was not Wordsworth's creed; they express rather the presence of an immanent deity.

P. 386. l. 149. past existence refers here to past experiences of this life, not to preexistence.

LUCY

This and the two following poems form a series devoted to the same person. Cf. what is said about them above in connection with We Are Seven and Expostulation and Reply.

LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE

Pp. 386 f. Like We Are Seven, this presents a simple story almost without comment. This theme, however, is better suited to the ballad

like simplicity of treatment, and it contains a few memorable phrases. The secondary title has little to do with the theme.

THE RECLUSE

Pp. 387 f. The Recluse is a part of a great philosophical poem upon which Wordsworth worked at intervals for many years but which he never completed. The extract here given expresses in poetic forms his plans and aspirations as a poet.

By some oversight the lines of our selection were numbered without reference to their position in the poem; they come at the very end and the first line should be 1. 754.

TO THE CUCKOO

Pp. 388 f. In beauty of conception and magic of phrasing few poems surpass or even equal this. It is very simple in subject and structure and needs only to be read thoughtfully and sympathetically to be fully understood. Its theme is the emotions of wonder and delight the author feels in hearing again the song of the bird and recalling the sensations with which it had been heard in boyhood. All poets are perhaps endowed with keener memories of past sensations than ordinary people. How large a part such memories played in Wordsworth's life may be noted not only in The Prelude, The Recluse, and The Excursion, but in many occasional poems such as this and the Lines Composed above Tintern Abbey. Even details, such as the peculiarity of the cuckoo's song referred to in ll. 3-4, 7-8, 15-16, and 29-32, are recalled more than once (cf. The Reciuse, ll. 90-94).

"Where'er my footsteps turned,

Her voice was like a hidden bird that sang.
The thought of her was like a flash of light,
Or an unseen companionship, a breath
Of fragrance independent of the wind."

THE SOLITARY REAPER

P. 389. This poem was suggested by the following words in Thomas Wilkinson's Tour in Scotland: "Passed a female who was reaping alone; she sung in Erse, as she bended over her sickle; the sweetest human voice I ever heard; her strains were tenderly melancholy, and felt delicious long after they were heard no more." Again, as in the poem To the Cuckoo, we have the witchery of music and mystery wonderfully rendered by the art of the poet. And here in addition we have a picture sketched without detail yet as

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Pp. 391 ff. Although this poem has long been a favorite of lovers of Wordsworth and though no one can deny the beauty of it, some of the Orthodox have objected to the doctrine that souls have a conscious existence in another world before being united with the body in this. Wordsworth himself is careful to disclaim this doctrine as a creed and to insist only upon his right to treat it poetically. It seems clear, however, that the doctrine made a powerful appeal to his imagination and affections. The beauty of the poem, both in parts and as a whole, will be felt by every reader, but as the exact relation of some of the parts to the general theme seems to have been missed by some, it may be well to give a closer analysis than usual of the course of thought.

I, II. Even though the poet sees and feels the beauty of the earth, he misses in it a glory it once possessed.

III, IV. While birds and beasts are full of joy, he alone feels sad, but utterance gives relief and he determines to share in the general joy and enumerates the sources of pleasure. But in vain, for the sight of a tree, a field, a flower, recalls thoughts of "the glory and the dream" that are gone and makes him ask what has become of them.

V, VI, VII, VIII. He expounds the theory. that the new-born soul coming to earth from heaven brings a part of the glory of heaven with it and envelops in it all the sights and sounds of earth, but loses it as it journeys through the world. The whole theory is explicitly stated in V. The efforts of Earth to win her foster-child Man to love her alone are given in VI. The earthly attractions and interests that successively capture his heart and fill his life are set forth in VII. "Why, O Child, do you — endowed as you are with heavenly knowledge and glory strive to become the slave of Earth?" is the substance of VIII.

IX. The poet utters thanks for the indestructible traces of our heavenly origin.

X. He reverts to the joy theme of III, IV, with recognition of the compensations afforded by "the philosophic mind" for the lost splendor and glory.

XI. He appeals to Nature whom he now loves even more deeply, because more seriously and maturely.

The argument in favor of immortality from hints of preexistence forms the principal subject of Plato's Phado, and is also finely set forth in The Banquet and Phædrus. The argument as given in the Meno is more sophistical and less interesting.

P. 392. 1. 28. the fields of sleep. Professor Hales is probably wrong in explaining this as "the yet reposeful, slumbering, countryside," for not only the poet and the birds, but the shepherd boy of 1. 35, the children of 1. 45, and the whole countryside are awake. To the west of the poet, of course, the sun has not yet reached and awakened the people. The winds are therefore the western winds.

11. 58-76. Compare Vaughan's beautiful poem The Retreat, p. 221.

1. 67. prison-house, life; cf. Phædo, 62.

1. 68. Note the stages of change indicated by infancy (66), boy (68), youth (71), man (75).

1. 81. Earth is conceived as the nurse of Man, not as his mother; his ancestry is divine.

P. 393. 1. 103. humorous stage. The general conception comes from the speech of Jaques in As You Like It, II, vii, 139 ff. According to the ancient physiology a man's tastes and tendencies were determined by his predominant humor. "Humorous stage" therefore means here the part in life to which his nature impels him.

1. 124. yoke, of custom. Cf. l. 127.

Il. 141-165. Wordsworth himself explained that these lines refer to peculiar experiences much like those which we shall have occasion to note in connection with Tennyson's St. Agnes' Eve. He says, "There was a time in my life when I had to push against something that resisted, to be sure that there was anything outside of me. I was sure of my own mind; everything else fell away and vanished into thought." Such experiences suggested, of course, the unreality of the external world and the real existence of the soul.

1. 166. The poet has changed his imagery somewhat and speaks as if souls were brought to this world by the sea of immortality (immortal sea, 1. 163). The children are, therefore, near the shore, while youths and men are further inland 162).

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P. 394. 1. 198. It is the poet's eye that hath kept watch o'er man's mortality, and he therefore sees with a soberer coloring the clouds which to the child were brilliant with the light of the setting sun and the "visionary gleam."

1. 199. This is rather obscure, but seems to mean that in one more contest man has been victorious, in the sense that he has attained to a deeper, more philosophic love of nature.

11. 202-203. It cannot too often be insisted that the meaning of these lines is distorted if they are taken out of connection with 11. 200-201. It is not because of the love of nature, but because of the love of man that a flower can give the poet "thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."

To A SKY-LARK

Cf. Shelley's To a Skylark, p. 465.

ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN
REPUBLIC

Venice, during the Middle Ages and early modern times one of the richest and most powerful cities of the world, began to lose its power soon after the discovery by the Portuguese of the route to India and China round the Cape of Good Hope. In the eighteenth century it had become a city of idle, unenterprising, pleasureloving people. But its final humiliation came in 1797 when it was conquered by Napoleon and by him turned over to the rule of Austria. Very similar to the feelings of Wordsworth are those expressed by Byron some years later in the first canto of his Ode (p. 455).

In structure this sonnet varies from the regular Petrarchan model, as the octave falls into two quatrains, independent in rhyme and in syntax. Contrast with it in structure the sonnet London, 1802, which is perfect both as to the structure of the octave and the division of the theme between the octave and sestet, and that Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, which, though metrically perfect, continues the theme of the octave into the sestet.

Lines 7-8 refer to the well-known annual ceremony in which the Doge of Venice dropped a ring into the sea in token of the wedding of the city to it.

TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE Dominique François Toussaint L'Ouverture, one of the most remarkable negroes known to

history, was born in Haiti in 1743. Although a slave, he received an elementary education and attained prominence. He took part in the revolutions of 1791-94 and in the latter year became commander-in-chief; in 1801 he was made president for life with the power of nominating his successor. After a series of battles with the French forces sent by Bonaparte, he capitulated and was pardoned (May 1, 1802), but the next month he was arrested on a charge of conspiracy, sent to France, and imprisoned in the Castle of Joux, where he died in April, 1803. Wordsworth wrote this sonnet in August, 1802. Toussaint was notable for his protection of the whites and his attempts to give the negroes liberty and a stable organization of industry.

THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGA

TION OF SWITZERLAND

Cf. Byron's Ode, especially section IV (pp. 455 ff.).

THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US

P. 395. This is a passionate outcry against the absorption of men in worldly business and their lack of interest in Nature and its inspiring influences. The poet declares that, rather than be so absorbed, he would prefer even to be a pagan, that thus imagination might at times give him glimpses of the gods of nature, such as Proteus and Triton -gods of the sea.

TO SLEEP

Cf. the sonnets of Daniel (p. 147) and Keats (p. 478).

SCORN NOT THE SONNET

P. 396. Cf. Rossetti's sonnet on the sonnet (p. 630). Dante, Petrarch and Tasso were Italian writers who cultivated the sonnet; Camoëns was a Portuguese.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

BIOGRAPHIA LITERARIA

Pp. 396 ff. In his Biographia Literaria Coleridge gives an interesting account of his literary career and opinions. Chapter XIV is especially valuable for its relation of the origin of the Lyrical Ballads, the joint volume in which he and Wordsworth gave to the world the first proofs of their

great poetic powers, and also for its exposition of Coleridge's theory of poetry. It should be read in connection with Wordsworth's Preface. Characteristically, Coleridge is concerned, not with the external form, but with the nature of poetry.

Bathyllus and Alexis (p. 398 b) are revolting subjects. Petronius Arbiter (p. 399 a) was a Roman author of the time of Nero; he was renowned for his wit and his taste. Bishop Taylor (ibid.) is Jeremy Taylor, the celebrated pulpit orator; for an example of his poetic prose, see pp. 216 f. Thomas Burnet (1635?-1715), an English scholar, wrote a Sacred Theory of the Earth (Telluris Theoria Sacra) in Latin, in which he argued eloquently that the earth was originally constructed like an egg and that at the Flood the shell broke and let out the inner fluid and that the mountains are fragments of the shell.

KUBLA KHAN

Pp. 399 f. This poem, Coleridge tells us, he composed in a dream, when he had dropped asleep while reading a passage in Purchas his Pilgrimage. The passage is as follows: "In Xaindu did Cublai Can build a stately Pallace, encompassing sixteene miles of plaine ground with a wall, wherein are fertile Meddowes, pleasant Springs, delightful Streames, and all sorts of beasts of chase and game, and in the middest thereof a sumptuous house of pleasure." He goes on to say that he "continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines; if that indeed can be called composition in which all the images rose up before him as things, with a parallel production of the correspondent expressions, without any sensation or consciousness of effort. On awaking he appeared to himself to have a distinct recollection of the whole, and taking his pen, ink, and paper, instantly and eagerly wrote down the lines that are here preserved. At this moment, he was unfortunately called out by a person on business from Porlock, and detained by him above an hour, and on his return to his room, found, to his no small surprise and mortification, that though he still retained some vague and dim recollection of the general purport of the vision, yet, with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone had been cast, but, alas! without the restoration of the latter."

The lines from Purchas seem indeed inadequate to the result, but great transformations are possible to dreamers and poets. Whether Coleridge, in writing down his dream poem, merely transcribed what he could remember, or recomposed it, may perhaps be doubted. He calls it a fragment, but it has unity and even a certain completeness. If he merely transcribed his memories, he apparently recalled the dream lines without a break or omission. Undoubtedly a continuation of the poem is conceivable, in which case the continuation would doubtless consist of a romantic narrative set against the background of these introductory lines.

The poem, as we have it, is a remarkable example of romantic description. The mysterious Kubla Khan, the sacred river, the measureless caverns, the sunless sea, the ancient forests, the sunny spots of greenery, the cedarn cover, the savage place, holy but enchanted, and many other details which will at once impress the reader, contribute to the establishment of an atmosphere of mystery and charm. The presence of caves of ice seems to have troubled some of the critics, who even go so far as to suggest that the poet may have thought of marble or alabaster. But there can be no doubt that he was really thinking of caves of ice, and that he did not regard them as poetically impossible in such a landscape (cf. ll. 35, 36). Other critics have been disturbed by the introduction of an Abyssinian maid in connection with a scene in Tartary. But Coleridge does not connect the Abyssinian maid, who belongs to another vision, with the Tartar landscape, except as he might connect any other recollection with it. In this last stanza of the poem, he is concerned entirely with the possibility of the poet's rebuilding with his music the beauties of the stately pleasure dome. This he says he might accomplish if he could revive within him the symphony and song which he once heard in a dream. To produce such an effect the music must obviously be wild and exotic, and the poet has therefore chosen as the musical instrument the dulcimer, which, though he probably had only a vague idea of it, suggests by its very name infinite and mysterious possibilities. That the player was an Abyssinian maid and that she sang of Mount Abora may possibly be due to the poet's vague recollections of other passages in Purchas. But the matter of real importance to the poet and the reader is that Abyssinia and Mount Abora are poetic words of vague connotation which suit the general atmosphere of the poem. For both poet and reader the poem is merely

an effort to reproduce in verse a vision of sensuous and mysterious beauty, and anything which interferes with the reader's emotional response to it is not only superfluous, but injurious.

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER

Pp. 400 ff. This is also a poem which depends for its effect mainly upon the creation of an atmosphere of mystery. It deals with the supernatural, though it owes much of its power to its descriptions of the effects of the supernatural upon man and nature. It contains few difficulties. In the second edition of it, the poet added to it an outline of the narrative, printed in the margin. The purpose of this addition was probably not to aid the reader in understanding the story, but to increase the strangeness and weirdness of the poem. The archaic diction and syntax contribute to the same effect: cf. may'st, 1. 8, din, 1. 8, eftsoons, l. 12, kirk, 1. 23, bassoon, 1. 32, sheen, l. 56, swound, 1. 62, thorough, l. 64, I wist, l. 152, Gramercy, l. 164, gossameres, l. 184, quoth, l. 198, Notice also the effect of the repetition of words and lines.

etc.

But independently of its uncanny atmosphere, the poem possesses other merits of the highest order. The narrative holds the reader as the Mariner's eye held the restive wedding guest. The events and scenes are presented as vividly as pictures, and the phrasing is so perfect that much of it has passed into common currency. Notable lines are 15, 34, 103-104, 105-106, 109–110, 117118, 121-122, 125-126, 127-128, 200, 226-227, 232-233, 236-239, 292-293, 369-372, 404-405, 414-417, 498-499, 568-569, 586-587, 599-600, 612-617, 624-625; but there are many others of less general application that are for the poem itself of equal effectiveness.

CHRISTABEL

Pp. 415 f. The subject and title were suggested to Coleridge by the old ballad Sir Cauline. He wrote the first part of it in 1797–98 — that brief period in which he produced all his greatest poems: Genevieve, The Dark Ladie, Kubla Khan, and The Ancient Mariner. He took it up again in 1800, but it was never finished and was published as a fragment in 1816. It is interesting, not only as one of Coleridge's most successful treatments of the mysterious and uncanny, but also because it introduced a new type of verse into modern poetry. Scott, who heard the poem recited, adopted the verse for his Lay of the Last

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