but there is one still deeper element in wordsworth’s poetry. he tells us very clearly that the true liberty and grandeur of mankind are to be found along the line of obedience to law and fidelity to duty. this is the truth which was revealed to him, slowly and serenely, as a consolation for the loss of his brief revolutionary dream. he learned to rejoice in it more and more deeply, and to proclaim it more and more clearly, as his manhood settled into firmness and strength.

fixing his attention at first upon the humblest examples of the power of the human heart to resist unfriendly circumstances, as in resolution and independence, and to endure sufferings and trials, as in margaret and michael, he grew into a new conception of the right nobility. he saw that it was not necessary to make a great overturning of society before the individual man could begin to

[227]

fulfil his destiny. “what then remains?” he cries—

“to seek

those helps for his occasion ever near

who lacks not will to use them; vows, renewed

on the first motion of a holy thought;

vigils of contemplation; praise; and prayer—

a stream, which, from the fountain of the heart,

issuing however feebly, nowhere flows

without access of unexpected strength.

but, above all, the victory is sure

for him, who seeking faith by virtue, strives

to yield entire submission to the law

of conscience—conscience reverenced and obeyed,

as god’s most intimate presence in the soul,

and his most perfect image in the world.”

if we would hear this message breathed in tones of lyric sweetness, as to the notes of a silver harp, we may turn to wordsworth’s poems on the skylark,—

“type of the wise who soar, but never roam;

true to the kindred points of heaven and home.”

if we would hear it proclaimed with grandeur, as by a solemn organ; or with martial ardour, as by a ringing trumpet, we may read the ode to duty or the character of the happy warrior, two of the noblest and most weighty poems that wordsworth

[228]

ever wrote. there is a certain distinction and elevation about his moral feelings which makes them in themselves poetic. in his poetry beauty is goodness and goodness is beauty.

but i think it is in the sonnets that this element of wordsworth’s poetry finds the broadest and most perfect expression. for here he sweeps upward from the thought of the freedom and greatness of the individual man to the vision of nations and races emancipated and ennobled by loyalty to the right. how pregnant and powerful are his phrases! “plain living and high thinking.” “the homely beauty of the good old cause.” “a few strong instincts and a few plain rules.” “man’s unconquerable mind.” “by the soul only, the nations shall be great and free.” the whole series of sonnets addressed to liberty, published in 1807, is full of poetic and prophetic fire. but none among them burns with a clearer light, none is more characteristic of him at his best, than that which is entitled london, 1802.

“milton! thou should’st be living at this hour;

england hath need of thee; she is a fen

[229]

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 had’st 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.”

this sonnet embraces within its “scanty plot of ground” the roots of wordsworth’s strength. here is his view of nature in the kinship between the lonely star and the solitary soul. here is his recognition of life’s common way as the path of honour, and of the lowliest duties as the highest. here is his message that manners and virtue must go before freedom and power. and here is the deep spring and motive of all his work, in the thought that joy, inward happiness, is the dower that has been lost and must be regained.

here then i conclude this chapter on wordsworth. there are other things that might well be said about

[230]

him, indeed that would need to be said if this were intended for a complete estimate of his influence. i should wish to speak of the deep effect which his poetry has had upon the style of other poets, breaking the bondage of “poetic diction” and leading the way to a simpler and more natural utterance. i should need to touch upon his alleged betrayal of his early revolutionary principles in politics, and to show, (if a paradox may be pardoned), that he never had them and that he always kept them. he never forsook liberty; he only changed his conception of it. he saw that the reconstruction of society must be preceded by reconstruction of the individual. browning’s stirring lyric, the lost leader,—

“just for a handful of silver he left us,

just for a ribbon to stick in his coat,”—

may have been written with wordsworth in mind, but it was a singularly infelicitous suggestion of a remarkably good poem.

all of these additions would be necessary if this estimate were intended to be complete. but it is not, and so let it stand.

[231]

if we were to choose a motto for wordsworth’s poetry it might be this: “rejoice, and again i say unto you, rejoice.” and if we looked farther for a watchword, we might take it from that other great poet, isaiah, standing between the fierce radicals and sullen conservatives of israel, and saying,

“in quietness and confidence shall be your strength,

in rest and in returning ye shall be saved.”