Chapter V: Appendix (4)

And all the nations labouring to fulfil
Thy law shall live henceforth in peace and brotherly goodwill.
]

INVOCATION TO THE EARTH[BI]

FEBRUARY, 1816

Composed 1816.--Published 1816

[Composed immediately after the _Thanksgiving Ode_, to which it may be considered as a second part.--I. F.]

One of the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."--ED.

I

"Rest, rest, perturbèd Earth![BJ]
O rest, thou doleful Mother of Mankind!"
A Spirit sang in tones more plaintive than the wind:
"From regions where no evil thing has birth
I come--thy stains to wash away, 5
Thy cherished fetters to unbind,
And open[130] thy sad eyes upon a milder day.
The Heavens are thronged with martyrs that have risen
From out thy noisome prison;
The penal caverns groan 10
With tens of thousands rent from off the tree
Of hopeful life,[BK]--by battle's whirlwind blown
Into the deserts of Eternity.
Unpitied havoc! Victims unlamented!
But not on high, where madness is resented, 15
And murder causes some sad tears to flow,
Though, from the widely-sweeping blow,
The choirs of Angels spread, triumphantly augmented.

II

"False Parent of Mankind!
Obdurate, proud, and blind, 20
I sprinkle thee with soft celestial dews,
Thy lost, maternal heart to re-infuse!
Scattering this far-fetched moisture from my wings,
Upon the act a blessing I implore,
Of which the rivers in their secret springs, 25
The rivers stained so oft with human gore,
Are conscious;--may the like return no more!
May Discord--for a Seraph's care
Shall be attended with a bolder prayer--
May she, who once disturbed the seats of bliss 30
These mortal spheres above,
Be chained for ever to the black abyss!
And thou, O rescued Earth, by peace and love,
And merciful desires, thy sanctity approve!"

The Spirit ended his mysterious rite, 35
And the pure vision closed in darkness infinite."

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 130: 1837.

To open ... 1816.
]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote BI: The title which this _Invocation to the Earth_ bore when first published in the _Thanksgiving Ode, with other short pieces chiefly referring to recent public events_, in 1816, was "_Elegiac Verses, February 1816_."--ED.]

[Footnote BJ: Compare _Hamlet_, act I. scene V., l. 183--

Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!

ED.
]

[Footnote BK: "The loss of human life, on the French side alone, in the wars consequent on the Revolution, was estimated (in 1815) to have been 4,556,000." (Blair's _Chronological Tables_, p. 724.)--ED.]

ODE[BL]

Composed January 1816.--Published 1816

Carmina possumus
Donare, et pretium dicere muneri.
Non incisa notis marmora publicis,
Per quæ spiritus et vita redit bonis
Post mortem ducibus
clarius indicant
Laudes, quam----Pierides; neque,
Si chartæ sileant quod bene feceris,
Mercedem tuleris. HOR. _Car._ 8, lib. 4.[BM]

This was one of the "Poems of the Imagination," in 1820. In 1827 it was placed among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

I

When the soft hand of sleep had closed the latch
On the tired household of corporeal sense,
And Fancy, keeping unreluctant watch,
Was free her choicest favours to dispense;[131]
I saw, in wondrous pérspective displayed, 5
A landscape more august than happiest skill[132]
Of pencil ever clothed with light and shade;
An intermingled pomp of vale and hill,
City, and naval stream, suburban grove,[133]
And stately forest where the wild deer rove; 10
Nor wanted lurking hamlet, dusky towns,
And scattered rural farms of aspect bright;
And, here and there, between the pastoral downs,
The azure sea upswelled upon the sight.
Fair prospect, such as Britain only shows! 15
But not a living creature could be seen
Through its wide circuit, that, in deep repose,
And, even to sadness, lonely and serene,
Lay hushed; till--through a portal in the sky
Brighter than brightest loop-hole, in a storm, 20
Opening before the sun's triumphant eye--
Issued, to sudden view, a glorious Form![134]
Earthward it glided with a swift descent:
Saint George himself this Visitant must be;[135]
And, ere a thought could ask on what intent 25
He sought the regions of humanity,
A thrilling voice was heard, that vivified
City and field and flood;--aloud it cried--

"Though from my celestial home,
Like a Champion, armed I come; 30
On my helm the dragon crest,
And the red cross on my breast;
I, the Guardian of this Land,[136]
Speak not now of toilsome duty;
Well obeyed was that command-- 35
Whence bright days of festive beauty;[137]
Haste, Virgins, haste!--the flowers which summer gave
Have perished in the field;
But the green thickets plenteously shall yield[138]
Fit garlands for the brave, 40
That will be welcome, if by you entwined;
Haste, Virgins, haste; and you, ye Matrons grave,
Go forth with rival youthfulness of mind,
And gather what ye find
Of hardy laurel and wild holly boughs-- 45
To deck your stern Defenders' modest brows!
Such simple gifts prepare,
Though they have gained a worthier meed;
And in due time shall share
Those palms and amaranthine wreaths 50
Unto their martyred Countrymen decreed,
In realms where everlasting freshness breathes!"

II

And lo! with crimson banners proudly streaming,
And upright weapons innocently gleaming,
Along the surface of a spacious plain 55
Advance in order the redoubted Bands,
And there receive green chaplets from the hands
Of a fair female train--
Maids and Matrons, dight
In robes of dazzling white;[139] 60
While from the crowd bursts[140] forth a rapturous noise
By the cloud-capt hills retorted;
And a throng of rosy boys
In loose fashion tell their joys;[141]
And grey-haired sires, on staffs supported, 65
Look[142] round, and by their smiling seem[143] to say,
Thus strives a grateful Country to display
The mighty debt which nothing can repay!

III

Anon before my sight a palace rose
Built of all precious substances,--so pure 70
And exquisite, that sleep alone bestows
Ability like splendour to endure:
Entered, with streaming thousands, through the gate,
I saw the banquet spread beneath a Dome of state,
A lofty Dome, that dared to emulate 75
The heaven of sable night
With starry lustre; yet had power to throw
Solemn effulgence, clear as solar light,
Upon a princely company below,
While the vault rang with choral harmony, 80
Like some Nymph-haunted grot beneath the roaring sea,
--No sooner ceased that peal, than on the verge
Of exultation hung a dirge[144]
Breathed from a soft and lonely instrument,
That kindled recollections 85
Of agonised affections;[BN]
And, though some tears the strain attended,
The mournful passion ended
In peace of spirit, and sublime content!

IV

But garlands wither; festal shows depart, 90
Like dreams themselves; and sweetest sound--
(Albeit of effect profound)
It was--and it is gone!
Victorious England! bid the silent Art
Reflect, in glowing hues that shall not fade, 95
Those[145] high achievements;[BO] even as she arrayed
With second life the deed of Marathon
Upon Athenian walls;[BP]
So may she labour for thy civic halls:
And be the guardian spaces 100
Of consecrated places,
As nobly graced by Sculpture's patient toil;
And let imperishable Columns rise[146]
Fixed in the depths of this courageous soil;[BQ]
Expressive signals[147] of a glorious strife, 105
And competent to shed a spark divine
Into the torpid breast of daily life;--
Records on which, for pleasure of all eyes,
The morning sun may shine[148]
With gratulation thoroughly benign![BR] 110

V

And ye, Pierian Sisters,[BS] sprung from Jove
And sage Mnemosyne,--full long debarred[149]
From your first mansions, exiled all too long[150]
From many a hallowed stream and grove,[151]
Dear native regions[BT] where ye wont to rove, 115
Chanting for patriot heroes the reward
Of never-dying song!
Now (for, though Truth descending from above
The Olympian summit hath destroyed for aye
Your kindred Deities, _Ye_ live and move,[BU] 120
Spared for obeisance from perpetual love
For privilege redeemed of god-like sway)
Now,[152] on the margin of some spotless fountain,
Or top serene of unmolested mountain,
Strike audibly the noblest of your lyres, 125
And for a moment meet the soul's desires![153]
That I, or some more favoured Bard, may hear
What ye, celestial Maids! have often sung
Of Britain's acts,--may catch it with rapt ear,
And give the treasure to our British tongue! 130
So shall the characters of that proud page
Support their mighty theme from age to age;
And, in the desert places of the earth,
When they to future empires have given birth,
So shall the people gather and believe 135
The bold report, transferred to every clime;
And the whole world, not envious but admiring,
And to the like aspiring,
Own--that the progeny of this fair Isle
Had power as lofty actions to achieve 140
As were performed in man's heroic prime;
Nor wanted, when their fortitude had held
Its even tenor, and the foe was quelled,
A corresponding virtue to beguile
The hostile purpose of wide-wasting Time-- 145
That not in vain they laboured to secure,
For their great deeds, perpetual memory,
And fame as largely spread as land and sea,
By Works of spirit high and passion pure!

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 131: 1827.

And Fancy in her airy bower kept watch,
Free to exert some kindly influence;
I saw--but little boots it that my verse
A shadowy visitation should rehearse,
For to our Shores such glory hath been brought,
That dreams no brighter are than waking thought-- 1816.

Free to exert her kindliest influence; 1820.
]

[Footnote 132: 1827.

A landscape richer than the happiest skill 1816.
]

[Footnote 133: 1827.

Tower, town, and city--and suburban grove, 1816.
]

[Footnote 134: 1832.

... wild deer rove;
And, in a clouded quarter of the sky,
Through such a portal as with chearful eye
The traveller greets in time of threatened storm,
Issued, to sudden view, a radiant Form! 1816.

Nor wanted lurking hamlet, dusky towns,
And scattered rural farms of aspect bright,
And, here and there, between the pastoral downs,
The azure sea upswelled upon the sight.
Fair prospect, such as Britain only shows!
But not a living creature could be seen
Through its wide circuit, hushed in deep repose,
Yea, even to sadness, quiet and serene!
Amid this solitude of earth and sky,
Through portal clear as loop-hole in a storm
Opening before the sun's triumphant eye,
Issued, to sudden view, a radiant form! 1827.
]

[Footnote 135: 1845

... may be; 1816.
]

[Footnote 136: 1827.

A thrilling voice was heard, that vivified
My patriotic heart;--aloud it cried,
"I, the Guardian of this Land, 1816.
]

[Footnote 137: 1837.

"Days are come of festive beauty; 1816.

Hence bright days of festive beauty; 1827.
]

[Footnote 138: 1820.

... will yield 1816.
]

[Footnote 139: 1827.

... of purest white,-- 1816.
]

[Footnote 140: 1827.

... burst ... 1816.
]

[Footnote 141: 1827.

... told their joys,-- 1816.
]

[Footnote 142: 1827.

Looked ... 1816.
]

[Footnote 143: 1827.

... seemed ... 1816.
]

[Footnote 144: 1837.

Anon, I saw, beneath a dome of state,
The feast dealt forth with bounty unconfined;
And while the vaulted roof did emulate
The starry heavens through splendour of the show,
It rang with music,--and methought the wind
Scattered the tuneful largess far and near,
That they who asked not might partake the cheer,
Who listened not could hear,
Where'er the wild winds were allowed to blow!
--That work reposing, on the verge
Of busiest exultation hung a dirge, 1816.

... and had power to throw 1827.

The edition of 1827 is otherwise identical with that of 1837.]

[Footnote 145: 1837.

These ... 1816.
]

[Footnote 146: 1845.

Graced with such gifts as Sculpture can bestow,
When inspiration guides her patient toil;
And let imperishable trophies grow 1816.

As nobly graced by Sculpture's patient toil;
And let imperishable structures grow 1827.
]

[Footnote 147: 1827.

... records ... 1816.
]

[Footnote 148: 1845.

Trophies on which the morning sun may shine,
As changeful ages flow, 1816.

Records on which the morning sun may shine,
As changeful ages flow, 1827.
]

[Footnote 149: 1816.

... Ye muses long debarred C.
]

[Footnote 150: 1816.

... As mythic lore
For not unwise belief proclaimed of yore C.
]

[Footnote 151: 1827.

... consecrated stream and grove, 1816.
]

[Footnote 152: 1845.

... and move,
And exercise unblamed a generous sway,)
Now, ... 1816.

And exercise unblamed a god-like sway) 1837.
]

[Footnote 153: 1837.

... my soul's desires! 1816.
]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote BL: The title of this Ode, when first published along with the _Thanksgiving Ode_, was _Ode, composed in January 1816_. In 1845 the date 1814 was given; but there seems no reason to distrust the earlier one.--ED.]

[Footnote BM: These lines were first inserted in the edition of 1827.--ED.]

[Footnote BN: Compare _Ode, Intimations of Immortality_, etc., stanza ix.--

But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections.

ED.
]

[Footnote BO: Haydon painted Wellington on the field of Waterloo. Compare the sonnet which Wordsworth wrote on that picture, in 1840, beginning--

By Art's hold privilege Warrior and War-horse stand.

ED.
]

[Footnote BP: The allusion is to the picture of the battle of Marathon, on the walls of the Stoa Poecile, in Athens. Compare the _Effusion, in presence of Tell's Tower_, in the "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent" (1820), st. i. and note.--ED.]

[Footnote BQ: In many places throughout Britain this was carried out. Statues to the memory of Wellington were erected in many towns, and buildings were named after him.--ED.]

[Footnote BR: In many places throughout Britain this was carried out. Statues to the memory of Wellington were erected in many towns, and buildings were named after him.--ED.]

[Footnote BS: The nine Muses, called the Pierides, from Pieria, near Olympus, where they were said to have been born, or first worshipped by the Thracians.--ED.]

[Footnote BT: Compare the first line of the _Extract from the conclusion of a poem, composed in anticipation of leaving school_ (vol. i. p. 2)--

Dear native regions, I foretell.

ED.
]

[Footnote BU: Compare Schiller's _Piccolomini_, in S. T. Coleridge's version (act II. scene 4)--

The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
The fair humanities of old religion,
The power, the beauty, and the majesty,
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
Or chasms and wat'ry depths; all these have vanished.
They live no longer in the faith of reason!
But still the heart doth need a language, still
Doth the old instinct bring back the old names,
And to yon starry world they now are gone,
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
With man as with their friend; and to the lover
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
Shoot influence down: and even at this day
'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
And Venus who brings everything that's fair!

ED.
]

ODE

Composed 1816.--Published 1816

Included in 1820 among the "Poems of the Imagination," afterwards placed among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

I

Who rises on the banks of Seine,
And binds her temples with the civic wreath?
What joy to read the promise of her mien!
How sweet to rest her wide-spread wings beneath!
But they are ever playing, 5
And twinkling in the light,
And, if a breeze be straying,
That breeze she will invite;
And stands on tiptoe, conscious she is fair,
And calls a look of love into her face, 10
And spreads her arms, as if the general air
Alone could satisfy her wide embrace.
--Melt, Principalities, before her melt!
Her love ye hailed--her wrath have felt!
But She through many a change of form hath gone, 15
And stands amidst you now an armèd creature,
Whose panoply is not a thing put on,
But the live scales of a portentous nature;
That, having forced[154] its way from birth to birth, 19
Stalks round-abhorred by Heaven, a terror to the Earth!

II

I marked the breathings of her dragon crest;
My Soul, a sorrowful interpreter,
In many a midnight vision bowed
Before the ominous aspect of her spear;[155]
Whether the mighty beam, in scorn upheld, 25
Threatened her foes,--or, pompously at rest,
Seemed to bisect her orbèd shield,
As stretches a blue bar of solid cloud[156]
Across the setting sun and all the fiery west.[157]

III

So did she daunt the Earth, and God defy! 30
And, wheresoe'er she spread her sovereignty,
Pollution tainted all that was most pure.
--Have we not known--and live we not to tell--
That Justice seemed to hear her final knell?
Faith buried deeper in her own deep breast 35
Her stores, and sighed to find them insecure!
And Hope was maddened by the drops that fell
From shades, her chosen place of short-lived rest.[158]
Shame followed shame, and woe supplanted woe--
Is this the only change that time can show? 40
How long shall vengeance sleep? Ye patient Heavens, how long?
--Infirm ejaculation! from the tongue
Of Nations wanting virtue to be strong
Up to the measure of accorded might,
And daring not to feel the majesty of right! 45

IV

Weak Spirits are there--who would ask,
Upon the pressure of a painful thing,
The lion's sinews, or the eagle's wing;
Or let their wishes loose, in forest-glade,
Among the lurking powers 50
Of herbs and lowly flowers,
Or seek, from saints above, miraculous aid--
That Man may be accomplished for a task
Which his own nature hath enjoined;--and why?
If, when that interference hath relieved him, 55
He must sink down to languish
In worse than former helplessness--and lie
Till the caves roar,--and, imbecility
Again engendering anguish,
The same weak wish returns, that had before deceived him. 60

V

But Thou, supreme Disposer! may'st[159] not speed
The course of things, and change the creed
Which hath been held aloft before men's sight
Since the first framing of societies,
Whether, as bards have told in ancient song, 65
Built up by soft seducing harmonies;
Or prest together by the appetite,
And by the power, of wrong.

The date of the composition of this Ode is uncertain. Wordsworth himself gives no clue: but it seems to refer to the rise of the French Republic, with its illusive promises of Liberty: the freedom of the many being sacrificed to the despotism of one. The Republic passed "through many a change of form." It became both tyrannous and aggressive. The "Principalities" of Europe "melted" before it. It stood forth "an armèd creature," and "a terror to the Earth." It in turn put down "Justice," "Faith," and "Hope" throughout Europe; and the writer of the Ode says,

How long shall vengeance sleep? Ye patient Heavens, how long?

The allusions in stanza iv. suggest that this Ode was written before Waterloo, and the final overthrow of the power of Napoleon, but it is difficult, if not impossible, to determine the point with exactness from internal evidence.

The reference in the last stanza may be to the legend of Amphion moving stones, and building up the walls of Thebes, by the sound of his lyre; the stones advancing to their places, and being fitted together, as he played his instrument. Compare Tennyson's _Amphion_.--ED.

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 154: 1845.

That, having wrought ... 1816.
]

[Footnote 155: 1827.

My soul in many a midnight vision bowed
Before the meanings which her spear expressed; 1816.
]

[Footnote 156: 1827.

Seemed to bisect the orbit of her shield,
Like to a long blue bar of solid cloud 1816.
]

[Footnote 157: 1845.

At evening stretched across the fiery West. 1816.
Across the setting sun, and through the fiery west. 1827.
Across the setting sun--and through all the fiery west. 1837.
]

[Footnote 158: 1827.

... short-lived rest,
Which, when they first received her, she had blest: 1816.
]

[Footnote 159: 1827.

... might'st ... 1816.
]

THE FRENCH ARMY IN RUSSIA, 1812-13[160]

Composed 1816.--Published 1816

This was first published in 1816 in the "Miscellaneous Pieces, referring chiefly to recent public Events," in the volume entitled _Thanksgiving Ode, January 18, 1816, with other short pieces_, etc. In 1820 it was placed among the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty, Part II."--ED.

Humanity, delighting to behold
A fond reflection of her own decay,
Hath painted Winter like a traveller old,
Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen day,
In hooded mantle, limping o'er the plain,[161] 5
As though his weakness were disturbed by pain:
Or, if a juster fancy should allow
An undisputed symbol of command,
The chosen sceptre is a withered bough,
Infirmly grasped within a palsied hand. 10
These emblems suit the helpless and forlorn;
But mighty Winter the device shall scorn.

For he it was--dread Winter! who beset,
Flinging round van and rear his ghastly net,
That host, when from the regions of the Pole 15
They shrunk, insane ambition's barren goal--
That host, as huge and strong as e'er defied
Their God, and placed their trust in human pride!
As fathers persecute rebellious sons,
He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth; 20
He called on Frost's inexorable tooth
Life to consume in Manhood's firmest hold;
Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly runs;
For why--unless for liberty enrolled
And sacred home--ah! why should hoary Age be bold? 25

Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed,
But fleeter far the pinions of the Wind,
Which from Siberian caves the Monarch freed,
And sent him forth, with squadrons of his kind,
And bade the Snow their ample backs bestride, 30
And to the battle ride.
No pitying voice commands a halt,
No courage can repel the dire assault;
Distracted, spiritless, benumbed, and blind,
Whole legions sink--and, in one instant, find 35
Burial and death: look for them--and descry,
When morn returns, beneath the clear blue sky,
A soundless waste, a trackless vacancy!

The French "retreat from Moscow was perhaps the most disastrous on record since the days of Xerxes.... On the night of 6th November, the temperature suddenly fell to that of the most rigorous winter. In that dreadful night thousands of men perished, and nearly all the horses, which compelled the abandonment of the greater part of the convoys. From this point the road began to be strewn with corpses, presenting the aspect of one continuous battlefield.... At Smolensk the cold was at 20 degrees of Réaumur." (Dyer's _History of Modern Europe_, vol. iv. pp. 518, 519.)--ED.

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 160: 1827.

The original title was _Composed in Recollection of
the Expedition of the French into Russia.
February 1816._ 1816.
]

[Footnote 161: 1820.

Hath painted Winter like a shrunken, old,
And close-wrapt Traveller--through the weary day--
Propped on a staff, and limping o'er the Plain, 1816.
]

ON THE SAME OCCASION[162]

Composed 1816.--Published 1816

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

Ye Storms, resound the praises of your King!
And ye mild Seasons--in a sunny clime,
Midway on some high hill, while father Time
Looks on delighted--meet in festal ring,
And loud and long of Winter's triumph sing! 5
Sing ye, with blossoms crowned, and fruits, and flowers,
Of Winter's breath surcharged with sleety showers,
And the dire flapping of his hoary wing!
Knit the blithe dance upon the soft green grass;
With feet, hands, eyes, looks, lips, report your gain; 10
Whisper it to the billows of the main,
And to the aërial zephyrs as they pass,
That old decrepit Winter--_He_ hath slain
That Host, which rendered all your bounties vain!

[Footnote 162: 1820.

The title in 1816 was

_Sonnet on the same occasion. February 1816._
]

SIEGE OF VIENNA RAISED BY JOHN SOBIESKI[BV]

FEBRUARY, 1816

Composed February 4, 1816.--Published 1816

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

O, for a kindling touch from that pure flame
Which ministered, erewhile, to a sacrifice
Of gratitude, beneath Italian skies,
In words like these: "Up, Voice of Song! proclaim
Thy saintly rapture with celestial aim: 5
For lo! the Imperial City stands released[163]
From bondage threatened by the embattled East,
And Christendom respires;[164] from guilt and shame
Redeemed, from miserable fear set free
By one day's feat, one mighty victory. 10
--Chant the Deliverer's praise in every tongue!
The cross shall spread, the crescent hath waxed dim;
He conquering, as in joyful Heaven is sung,[165]
HE CONQUERING THROUGH GOD, AND GOD BY HIM." [BW]

VARIANTS:

[Footnote BV: 1816.

The title at first was _February 1816_.--ED.]

[Footnote 163: 1837.

... touch of that pure flame
Which taught the offering of song to rise
From thy lone bower, beneath Italian skies,
Great Filicaia!--With celestial aim
It rose,--thy saintly rapture to proclaim,
Then, when the imperial city stood released 1816.
]

[Footnote 164: 1837.

... respired; ... 1816.
]

[Footnote 165: 1837.

... --as in Earth and Heaven was sung-- 1816.
]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote BW:

Ond' è ch' Io grido e griderò: giugnesti,
Guerregiasti, e vincesti;
Si, si, vincesti, o Campion forte e pio,
_Per Dio vincesti, e per te vinse Iddio_.

See Filicaia's Canzone, addressed to (Sir) John Sobieski, king of Poland, upon his raising the siege of Vienna. This, and his other poems on the same occasion, are superior perhaps to any lyrical pieces that contemporary events have ever given birth to, those of the Hebrew Scriptures only excepted.--W. W. (1816 and 1820.)

Vienna, besieged in 1683 by Mahomet IV., was relieved by John Sobieski. The following is Dyer's account of it in his _Modern Europe_ (vol. iii. p. 109):--"At one time Vienna seemed beyond the reach of human aid. The Turks sat down before it on 14th July, and such were their numbers that their encampment is said to have contained more than 100,000 tents. It was the middle of August before John Sobieski could leave Cracow with 25,000 men, and by the end of that month the situation of Vienna had become extremely critical. Provisions and ammunition began to fail; the garrison had lost 6000 men, and numbers died every day by pestilence, or at the hands of the enemy. It was not till 9th September that Sobieski and his Poles formed a junction on the plain of Tuln with the Austrian forces under the Duke of Lorraine, and the other German contingents. On 11th September, the allies reached the heights of Kahlenberg, within sight of Vienna, and announced their arrival to the beleaguered citizens by means of rockets. On the following day the Turks were attacked, and, after a few hours' resistance, completely routed.... The Turkish camp, with vast treasures in money, jewels, horses, arms, and ammunition, became the spoil of the victors."

The Italian poet Filicaia referred to by Wordsworth (Filicaja, Vincenzo), wrote six odes on the deliverance of Vienna by Sobieski. They were published in Florence in the following year, 1684, and established the writer's fame. Queen Christina of Sweden was much struck by them; and, being a generous patroness and admirer of letters, she enabled Filicaja to devote himself to poetry exclusively as his life-work. He wrote numerous patriotic sonnets and heroic odes, in Italian and in Latin.--ED.]

OCCASIONED BY THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO[166]

(The last six lines intended for an Inscription.)

FEBRUARY, 1816

Composed February 4, 1816.--Published 1816

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

Intrepid sons of Albion! not by you
Is life despised; ah no, the spacious earth
Ne'er saw a race who held, by right of birth,
So many objects to which love is due:
Ye slight not life--to God and Nature true; 5
But death, becoming death, is dearer far,
When duty bids you bleed in open war:
Hence hath your prowess quelled that impious crew.
Heroes!--for instant sacrifice prepared;
Yet filled with ardour and on triumph bent 10
'Mid direst shocks of mortal accident--
To you who fell, and you whom slaughter spared
To guard the fallen, and consummate the event,
Your Country rears this sacred Monument!

It need hardly be said that the intention of using the six last lines as an "Inscription" was never carried into effect. The infelicity of the second last line is fatal to its use on any "monument." The punctuation of the Sonnet as it appeared in _The Champion_, January 2, 1814, differs slightly from the above.--ED.

[Footnote 166: 1820.

The full title in 1816 was _Inscription for a
national monument in commemoration of the Battle
of Waterloo_. 1816.
]

OCCASIONED BY THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO[167]

FEBRUARY, 1816

Composed February 4, 1816.--Published 1816

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

The Bard--whose soul is meek as dawning day,
Yet trained to judgments righteously severe,
Fervid, yet conversànt with holy fear,
As recognising one Almighty sway:
He--whose experienced eye can pierce the array 5
Of past events; to whom, in vision clear,
The aspiring heads of future things appear,
Like mountain-tops whose[168] mists have rolled away--
Assoiled from all encumbrance of our time,[BX]
He only, if such breathe, in strains devout 10
Shall comprehend this victory sublime;
Shall[169] worthily rehearse the hideous rout,
The triumph hail, which from their peaceful clime
Angels might welcome with a choral shout![170]

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 167: 1837.

The title in 1816 was _Occasioned by the same
battle, February 1816_ 1816.
]

[Footnote 168: 1820.

Like mountain-tops whence ... 1816.
]

[Footnote 169: 1837.

And ... 1816.
]

[Footnote 170: 1837.

Which the blest Angels, from their peaceful clime
Beholding, welcomed with a choral shout. 1816.
]

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote BX: "From all this world's encumbrance did himself assoil."--SPENSER. W. W. 1816.

In a MS. copy of the sonnet, Wordsworth wrote it thus: "In the above is a line taken from Spenser--

And hanging up his arms and warlike spoil,
From all this world's encumbrance did himself assoil."

ED.
]

"EMPERORS AND KINGS, HOW OFT HAVE TEMPLES RUNG"

Composed 1816.--Published 1827

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

Emperors and Kings, how oft have temples rung
With impious thanksgiving, the Almighty's scorn!
How oft above their altars have been hung
Trophies that led the good and wise to mourn
Triumphant wrong, battle of battle born, 5
And sorrow that to fruitless sorrow clung!
Now, from Heaven-sanctioned victory, Peace is sprung;[BY]
In this firm hour Salvation lifts her horn.
Glory to arms! But, conscious that the nerve
Of popular reason, long mistrusted, freed 10
Your thrones, ye Powers, from duty fear to swerve![171]
Be just, be grateful; nor, the oppressor's creed
Reviving, heavier chastisement deserve
Than ever forced unpitied hearts to bleed.

VARIANT:

[Footnote 171: 1832.

Your Thrones, from duty, Princes! fear to swerve; 1827.
]

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote BY: From the position of this sonnet in the edition of 1827, as well as from manifest internal evidence, it refers, like the two previous ones, to the battle of Waterloo. Illustrations of the first six lines of the sonnet are too numerous in mediæval history to require detailed allusion.--ED.]

FEELINGS OF A FRENCH ROYALIST,[172]

ON THE DISINTERMENT OF THE REMAINS OF THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN

Composed 1816.--Published 1816.

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty."--ED.

Dear Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould
Uprisen--to lodge among ancestral kings;
And to inflict shame's salutary stings
On the remorseless hearts of men grown old
In a blind worship; men perversely bold 5
Even to this hour,--yet, some shall now forsake
Their monstrous Idol if the dead e'er spake,
To warn the living; if truth were ever told
By aught redeemed out of the hollow grave:[173]
O murdered Prince! meek, loyal, pious, brave! 10
The power of retribution once was given:
But 'tis a rueful thought that willow bands
So often tie the thunder-wielding hands
Of Justice sent to earth from highest Heaven!

The Duc d'Enghien, grandson of the Prince de Condé, and only son of the Duc de Bourbon, born at Chantilly in 1772, commanded the corps of _Emigrés_ gathered on the Rhine by his grandfather. After the peace of Luneville, he retired to Ettenheim, near Strasburg, in German territory. There he married the Princess Charlotte of Rohan-Rochefort, and lived peacefully as a private citizen. He was, though wholly innocent, suspected by Napoleon of complicity in the plot of Pichegru, Cadoudal (one of the Chouans), Moreau, and others, to overthrow him as first Consul, and to restore the Bourbon dynasty. "The Duke was residing at Ettenheim, in the neutral territory of Baden, when Bonaparte, in violation of international law and the rights of the German Empire, caused him to be seized on the night of 15th March by a party of French _gens d'armes_, and to be carried to the castle of Vincennes, where, after a sort of mock trial, he was shot in the fosse of the fortress, March 21st" (1804).--Dyer's _Modern Europe_ (vol. iv. p. 378). The whole of the proceedings against the Duc d'Enghien were illegal (as was confessed by the presiding judge), and his execution was one of the blackest stains on the character of Napoleon. After the Restoration, in 1814, his remains were disinterred by order of Louis XVIII., and buried in the chapel of the castle at Vincennes, where the restored king erected a monument to his memory. The "pit of vilest mould" mentioned in the sonnet, is, of course, the moat of the castle, and the phrase "to lodge among ancestral kings," refers to Vincennes having been a royal residence, where many princes died and were buried, _e.g._ Queen Jeanne (wife of Philippe le Bel), Louis le Hutin, and Charles le Bel. Vincennes is close to Paris, the fortress being only about five miles south-east of the Louvre. The chapel, which has a fine Gothic front, was begun in 1248, and was finished in 1552. The monument to the Duc d'Enghien is in the old Sacristy. It consists of four figures in marble, representing the _Duke_, supported by _Religion_ and bewailed by _France_, while _Vengeance_ waits behind. It was executed by Deseine.--ED.

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 172: The first line of the title was added in the edition of 1836, and continued afterwards.]

[Footnote 173: 1840.

Even to this hour; yet at this hour they quake;
And some their monstrous Idol shall forsake,
If to the living truth was ever told
By aught surrendered from the hollow grave: 1816.

To warn the living, truth were ever told 1837.
]

DION

(SEE PLUTARCH)

Composed 1816.--Published 1820

[This poem was first introduced by a stanza that I have since transferred to the Notes, for reasons there given,[BZ] and I cannot comply with the request expressed by some of my friends that the rejected stanza should be restored. I hope they will be content if it be, hereafter, immediately attached to the poem, instead of its being degraded to a place in the Notes.--I. F.]

From 1820 to 1843 _Dion_ was classed among the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection." In the edition of 1845 it was placed next to _Laodamia_ among the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote BZ: To the edition of 1837, and subsequent ones, Wordsworth appended the following note:--

This poem began with the following stanza, which has been displaced on account of its detaining the reader too long from the subject, and as rather precluding, than preparing for, the due effect of the allusion to the genius of Plato:--

Fair is the Swan, whose majesty, prevailing
O'er breezeless water, on Locarno's lake,
Bears him on while proudly sailing
He leaves behind a moon-illumined wake:
Behold! the mantling spirit of reserve
Fashions his neck into a goodly curve;
An arch thrown back between luxuriant wings
Of whitest garniture, like fir-tree boughs
To which, on some unruffled morning, clings
A flaky weight of winter's purest snows!
--Behold!--as with a gushing impulse heaves
That downy prow, and softly cleaves
The mirror of the crystal flood,
Vanish inverted hill,[174] and shadowy wood,
And pendent rocks, where'er, in gliding state,
Winds the mute Creature without visible Mate
Or Rival, save the Queen of night
Showering down a silver light,
From heaven, upon her chosen favourite!

In the Fenwick note to _An Evening Walk_, vol. i. p. 5, after describing the two pairs of swans that frequented the lake of Esthwaite, Wordsworth says: "It was from the remembrance of those noble creatures, I took, thirty years after, the picture of the swan which I have discarded from the poem of _Dion_." After quoting the note, which explains the discarding of the above stanza, Professor Henry Reed remarks, "It is a remarkable instance of the comparative sacrifice of a passage of great beauty to the poet's dutiful regard for the principles of his Art" (American edition of 1851, p. 415). Wordsworth's reasons for withdrawing the stanza are obvious; but it is perhaps not unworthy of mention that when I was editing a volume of _Selections from Wordsworth_, to which many members of "The Wordsworth Society" contributed, Robert Browning besought me, in the strongest terms, to restore that discarded stanza.--ED.]

I

Serene, and fitted to embrace,
Where'er he turned, a swan-like grace[175]
Of haughtiness without pretence,
And to unfold a still magnificence,
Was princely Dion, in the power 5
And beauty of his happier hour.
And what pure homage _then_ did wait
On Dion's virtues, while the lunar beam[176]
Of Plato's genius, from its lofty sphere,
Fell round him in the grove of Academe, 10
Softening their inbred dignity austere--
That he, not too elate
With self-sufficing solitude,
But with majestic lowliness endued,
Might in the universal bosom reign, 15
And from affectionate observance gain
Help, under every change of adverse fate.[177]

II

Five thousand warriors--O the rapturous day![178]
Each crowned with flowers, and armed with spear and shield,
Or ruder weapon which their course might yield,[179] 20
To Syracuse advance[180] in bright array.
Who leads them on?--The anxious people see
Long-exiled Dion marching at their head,
He also crowned with flowers of Sicily,
And in a white, far-beaming, corselet clad! 25
Pure transport undisturbed by doubt or fear
The gazers feel; and, rushing to the plain,
Salute those strangers as a holy train
Or blest procession (to the Immortals dear)
That brought their precious liberty again. 30
Lo! when the gates are entered, on each hand,
Down the long street, rich goblets filled with wine
In seemly order stand,
On tables set, as if for rites divine;--
And, as the great Deliverer marches by, 35
He looks on festal ground with fruits bestrown;
And flowers are on his person thrown[181]
In boundless prodigality;
Nor doth[182] the general voice abstain from prayer,
Invoking Dion's tutelary care, 40
As if a very Deity he were!

III[CA]

Mourn, hills and groves of Attica! and mourn
Ilissus, bending o'er thy classic urn!
Mourn, and lament for him whose spirit dreads 44
Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades!
For him who to divinity aspired,
Not on the breath[183] of popular applause,
But through dependence on the sacred laws
Framed in the schools where Wisdom dwelt retired,
Intent to trace the ideal path of right 50
(More fair than heaven's broad causeway paved with stars)
Which Dion learned to measure with sublime delight;--[184]
But He hath overleaped[185] the eternal bars;
And, following guides whose craft holds no consent
With aught that breathes the ethereal element, 55
Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood,
Unjustly shed, though for the public good.
Whence doubts that came too late, and wishes vain,
Hollow excuses, and triumphant pain;
And oft his cogitations sink as low 60
As, through the abysses of a joyless heart,
The heaviest plummet of despair can go--
But whence that sudden check? that fearful start!
He hears an uncouth sound--
Anon his lifted eyes 65
Saw, at a long-drawn gallery's dusky bound,
A Shape[186] of more than mortal size
And hideous aspect, stalking round and round!
A woman's garb the Phantom wore,
And fiercely swept the marble floor,-- 70
Like Auster whirling to and fro,[187]
His force on Caspian foam to try;
Or Boreas when he scours the snow
That skins the plains of Thessaly,
Or when aloft on Mænalus he stops 75
His flight, 'mid eddying pine-tree tops!

IV

So, but from toil less sign of profit reaping,
The sullen Spectre to her purpose bowed,
Sweeping--vehemently sweeping--
No pause admitted, no design avowed! 80
"Avaunt, inexplicable Guest!--avaunt,"
Exclaimed the Chieftain[188]--"let me rather see
The coronal that coiling vipers make;
The torch that flames with many a lurid flake,
And the long train of doleful pageantry 85
Which they behold,[189] whom vengeful Furies haunt;
Who, while they struggle from the scourge to flee,
Move where the blasted[190] soil is not unworn,
And, in their anguish, bear what other minds have borne!"

V

But Shapes that come not at an earthly call, 90
Will not depart when mortal voices bid;
Lords of the visionary eye whose lid,
Once raised, remains aghast, and will not fall!
Ye Gods, thought He, that servile Implement
Obeys a mystical intent! 95
Your Minister would brush away
The spots that to my soul adhere;
But should she labour night and day,
They will not, cannot disappear;
Whence angry perturbations,--and that look 100
Which no philosophy can brook!

VI

Ill-fated Chief! there are[191] whose hopes are built
Upon the ruins of thy glorious name;[192]
Who, through the portal of one moment's guilt,
Pursue thee with their deadly aim![193] 105
O matchless perfidy![194] portentous lust
Of monstrous crime!--that horror-striking blade,
Drawn in defiance of the Gods, hath laid
The noble Syracusan low in dust!
Shudder'd[195] the walls--the marble city wept-- 110
And sylvan places heaved a pensive sigh;
But[196] in calm peace the appointed Victim slept,
As he had fallen in magnanimity;
Of spirit too capacious to require
That Destiny her course should change; too just 115
To his own native greatness[197] to desire
That wretched boon, days lengthened by mistrust.
So[198] were the hopeless troubles, that involved
The soul of Dion, instantly dissolved.
Released from life and cares of princely state, 120
He left this moral grafted on his Fate;
"Him only pleasure leads, and peace attends,
Him, only him, the shield of Jove defends,
Whose means are fair and spotless as his ends."

* * * * *

The following suggested variations of text also exist in MS.--ED.

Mourn, olive bowers of Attica! and Thou,
Partake the sadness of the groves,
Famed hill Hymettus, round whose fragrant brow,
Industrious bees, each seeking what she loves,
Or fraught with treasure which she best approves,
Their murmurs blend { in choral elevation }
{ with choral animation }
Not wholly lost upon the abstracted ear
Of unambitious men who wander near
Immersed in lonely contemplation.
Mourn, sunny Hill, and shady Grove! and mourn
Ilyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn!
Lament the fall of him whose spirit dreads
Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades!
For He, who to divinity aspired,
Not on the wings of popular applause,
But through dependence on the sacred laws
Framed in the schools where Wisdom dwelt retired,
Meek Wisdom tracing with a steady hand
The path which she alone hath scann'd--
The ideal path of right--
More fair than heaven's broad causeway paved with stars,
Which Dion learned to gaze on with delight;--
But he hath overleap'd the eternal bars,
And following guides whose craft holds no consent
With aught that breathes the ethereal element,
Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood,
Unjustly shed, though for the public good.
Blind choice--for since that day, the chief, the sage,
Prime boast and envy of a glorious age,
Droops, the slave of fear and sorrow;

For since that hour the studious walks and shades,
Whose once sweet memory her Spirit dreads,
Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow,
Hath Dion pined with sharp regret and sorrow.

Lament, ye studious walks and shades,
The fall of Him whose spirit dreads
Your once sweet memory--and mourn
Ilyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn,
For him who ...

Mourn, { sunny hills and groves } of Attica! and mourn
{ olive bowers }
Ilyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn!
Mourn, and lament for him whose spirit dreads
Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades,
For him who ...

... where Wisdom dwelt retired
{ Tracing with steady hand the path of right }
{ Intent to trace the ideal path of right }
... where Wisdom dwelt retired
Tracing assiduously the path of right.
That path which Dion travelled { in } delight.
{with}
Which Dion learned to travel with delight.

Ever since that hour, ye studious walks and shades,
Whose once sweet Memory now his spirit dreads,
Hath Dion pined with sharp regret and sorrow.

Blind choice--for since that word was given, the Sage,
Prime boast and envy of a glorious age,
{Hath droop'd and pined with sharp regret and sorrow,}
{Droops with a burthen of repentant sorrow, }
Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow.

Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood,
Unjustly shed--albeit to prevent
Manifold tumults and incessant strife,
That seemed to hang upon a single life
To whom the calm of general content,
The stedfastness of public good,
Was tiresome as the weight
That presses down the minds of mariners,
When not a billow stirs
On the wide surface of the ocean flood.
{Untractable disturber of the State, }
{Strong is he--and concessions have proved vain,}
{And pardon {only makes } him more elate, }
{ {doth but make} }
{And bolder to transgress again. }
{Untractable disturber of the State, }
{Of popularity the giddy thrall, }
{Ever aspiring to the topmost height,}
{His ears he shuts against the call }
{Of reason--therefore let him fall. }
Infirm decision, slowly won
From Dion's mind--to authorize a deed
Which when the word was uttered--with the speed
Of lightning hurrying through the heav'ns--is done.
{But} since that fatal hour--the chief, the sage,
{For}

That hung upon a single life
{Presumptuous,}
{Bold, } fickle, envious, turbulent,
{Ambitious, }
Ever aspiring to the topmost height;
To whom the calm of general content,
Diffused when order reigned for public good,
Was tiresome ...

Repeated pardons make him more elate,
And bolder to offend again.
He hath provoked his fate;
Deliberative sadness ratifies
The offender's doom, and solemn be his obsequies!
_Yes, let him fall_, decision slowly won
From Dion's mind, to authorize a deed
Which when the word was uttered--with the speed
Of lightning hurrying through the heav'ns--is done.
But since that fated word the {princely } sage,
{chief--the}
Prime boast and envy of a glorious age,
Droops, under burthen of repentant sorrow,
Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow.

He hath provoked his fate:
Ever aspiring to the topmost height,
He shuts his ear against the call
Of Reason, therefore let him fall. MS.

Some years ago I was inclined to assign this poem to the year 1814, because Wordsworth himself gave it that date in one of the notes which he dictated to Miss Fenwick in 1843. I now assign it to the year 1816. Wordsworth gave it that date in the year 1837, and if written in 1814, I think it would have been included in the edition of 1815.

_Dion_, the _Ode to Lycoris_, and the translation of part of Virgil's _Æneid_, belong to a time when Wordsworth had reverted to the subjects of ancient classical literature while preparing his eldest son for the University.

Charles Lamb wrote thus to Dorothy Wordsworth in 1820:--"The story of Dion is divine--the genius of Plato falling on him like moonlight--the finest thing ever expressed." (_The Letters of Charles Lamb_, edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. ii. p. 56.)

I am indebted to the Headmaster of Fettes College, the Rev. W. A. Heard, for the following notes on the poem, with special reference to Plutarch. They reveal, as Mr. Heard remarks, "Wordsworth's method of work upon the authors he had read and studied, and show upon what a solid structure of fact he always wrote." It will be observed that he invariably appended to the title of this poem "(See Plutarch)."

"When Dion, the pupil of Plato, became the autocrat of Syracuse, it seemed as if the moment had come for the rule of a philosopher. But the gardens of the Academy knew nothing of the methods by which alone intrigue could be met and unscrupulousness baffled. The murder of Heracleides became a political necessity; but when this was conceded, the charm was once and for ever broken--the career was done. Plutarch's biography deals mainly with the external conditions, and is overlaid with so much historical detail that the personality of Dion stands out in insufficient relief. Wordsworth gives us a study of the internal struggle, showing us the failure of an ideal, not in its external aspect, but as closing the aspirations, and desolating the conscience, of a truly noble mind. He accepts Plutarch's general conception of the life, incorporating much of the details and adopting some of the language, but over and above the fresh emphasis he gives to critical moments, the imaginative insight with which all the detail is treated makes the poem an original presentation.

_... a swan-like grace
Of haughtiness without pretence._

ὑψηλὸς τῷ ἤθει καὶ μεγαλόφρων.--'He was lofty in his disposition and large-minded.' Again, Plutarch speaks of the "σεμνότης"--the 'still magnificence' of his nature, coupled with "τὸ γενναῖον καὶ ἁπλότης," nobility and simplicity.

_Softening their inbred dignity austere._

βουλομένου τοῦ Πλάτωνος ὁμιλίᾳ χάριν ἐχούσῃ καὶ παιδιᾶς ἐμμελοῦς κατὰ καιρὸν ἁπτομένῃ κεραννύμενον ἀφηδύνεσθαι τοῦ Δίωνος τὸ ἦθος. Plato tried to soften the harshness of his disposition by the delights of intercourse, and the grace of seasonable wit.

_That he, not too elate
With self-sufficing solitude._

This refers to a warning of Plato, ἡ αὐθάδεια ἐρημίᾳ σύνοικος--Arrogance is the house-mate of solitude.

_Each crowned with flowers ..._

καὶ θεασάμενοι τὸν Δίωνα διὰ τὴν θυσίαν ἐστεφανωμένον οἱ παρόντες ἀπὸ μιᾶς ὁρμῆς ἐστεφανοῦντο πάντες.--And seeing Dion wearing a garland on account of the sacrifice, those that were present with one impulse put on garlands one and all.

_Or ruder weapon which their course might yield._

ὡπλισμένοι δὲ φαύλως ἐκ τοῦ προστυχόντος.--Poorly armed, as chance enabled them.

_Who leads them on? ..._

Δίων προσερχόμενος ἤδη καταφανὴς ἦν πρῶτος αὐτὸς ὡπλισμένος λαμπρῶς ... ἐστεφανωμένος.--Dion himself was already in sight, advancing at their head, clad in gleaming armour and wearing a garland.

_Salute those strangers as a holy train
Or blest procession (to the Immortals dear)
That brought their precious liberty again._

τῶν Συρακουσίων δεχομένων ὥσπερ ἱεράν τινα καὶ θεοπρεπῆ πομπὴν ἐλευθερίας καὶ δημοκρατίας δι' ἐτῶν ὀκτὼ καὶ τεσσαράκοντα κατιούσης εἰς τὴν πόλιν.--The Syracusans receiving them as a holy procession beseeming the Gods ('to the Immortals dear'), escorting freedom and democracy back to the city after an exile of forty-seven years.

_Down the long street, rich goblets filled with wine
In seemly order stand._

ἑκατέρωθεν παρὰ τὴν ὁδὸν τῶν Συρακουσίων ἱερεῖά τινα καὶ τραπέζας καὶ κρατῆρας ἱστάντων καὶ καθ' οὓς γένοιτο προχύταις τε βαλλόντων καὶ προστρεπομένων ὥσπερ θεὸν κατευχαῖς.--The people setting, on either side the way, victims and tables and bowls of wine, and as he came opposite, casting flowers upon him, and supplicating him with prayers as though he were a God.

_Mourn, hills and groves of Attica! and mourn
Ilissus, bending o'er thy classic urn!_

Cf. Milton, _Paradise Regained_, iv. 244:--

See there the olive-grove of Academe,
Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird
Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.

Perhaps the idea of Ilissus bending over the urn is taken from the western pediment of the Parthenon. At one angle there is a recumbent figure of the Kephissus, at the other of the llissus; originally there seems to have been a ὑδρία attached to one of them. See _Guide to Sculptures of the Parthenon_, published at the British Museum.[CB]

_And, following guides whose craft holds no consent
With aught that breathes the ethereal element,
Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood,
Unjustly shed, though for the public good._

Dion was anxious to give Syracuse a constitution, but he found Heracleides an incessant opponent in spite of the long forbearance he had shown him. Feeling that the one obstacle to a settlement must at all costs be removed, he yielded to advisers whom he had long withstood, and allowed them to put Heracleides to death. He gave him, however, a public funeral, and persuaded the people that it was impossible for the State to have peace on any other conditions.

_But whence that sudden check?..._

ἐτύγχανε μὲν γὰρ ὀψὲ τῆς ἡμέρας καθεζόμενος ἐν παστάδι τῆς οἰκίας μόνος ὢν πρὸς ἑαυτῷ τὴν διάνοιαν· ἐξαίφνης δὲ ψόφου γενομένου πρὸς θατέρῳ πέρατι τῆς στοᾶς, ἀποβλέψας ἔτι φωτὸς ὄντος εἶδε γυναῖκα μεγάλην στολῇ μὲν καὶ προσώπῳ μηδὲν Ἐριννύος τραγικῆς παραλλάττουσαν, σαίρουσαν δὲ καλλύντρῳ τινὶ τὴν οἰκίαν.--He happened to be sitting late in the evening in a corridor of the house in solitary meditation: suddenly a sound was heard in the further end of the portico, and looking up, he saw in the lingering light the form of a majestic woman, in dress and face like the Fury as she appears in tragedy--sweeping the house with a brush.

In Plutarch, the apparition is simply ominous of coming evil, his son, a few days afterwards, throwing himself in a fit of petulance from the roof of the palace, and his own death shortly following: the moral significance assigned to it in the poem is Wordsworth's own interpretation.

_And, in their anguish, bear what other minds have borne!_

In Plutarch, Dion calls his attendants, dreading to be left alone for fear the spectre should return (παντάπασιν ἐκστατικῶς ἔχων καὶ δεδοικὼς μὴ πάλιν εἰς ὄψιν αὐτῷ μονωθέν τὸ τέρας ἀφίκηται). Wordsworth seems to have taken a hint from this passage, and to have added a tragic intensity by representing the horror as one which he could share with no one, a supernatural doom in which he must be absolutely solitary.

_Ill-fated Chief! there are whose hopes are built
Upon the ruins of thy glorious name._

Callippus, an early friend of Dion's in Athens, and bound to him by a sacred association as he had initiated him into the mysteries, was now in Syracuse, and for selfish ends was plotting his friend's ruin, ἐλπίσας Σικελίαν ἆθλον ἕξειν τῆς ξενοκτονίας, 'hoping to get Sicily as the prize of his treachery.'

_O matchless perfidy! portentous lust
Of monstrous crime!..._