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NATIONAL LinUtY 
 
 CANADA 
 
 ilBIiOTH£:QCJE NATIOMALt 
 
 ^tY 1 
 lOMAU I 
 
 V/ORDSWORTH, 
 
 A PAPER READ BEFORE THE HAMILTON 
 
 ASSOCIATION BY REV. S. LYLE. 
 
 MAHCH 0th, 1882. 
 
 Wordawortb'B fftme is a pUnt of ilow 
 grotrtb. Bat if his poeniB bkve been ooldly 
 and eTec eraellj received by eome, they bftve 
 been bj othets m enthasiaetioally admired, 
 and as indiaoriminately praifled. Many of the 
 thoogbtfol and onltored oberiah a profound 
 respect for the man and greatly admire his 
 genias. In tha honorable roll of poetic 
 names, Matthew Arnold, no mean critic, 
 places Wordsworth third. Bhakeepeare heads 
 the list, Milton stands second, and the third 
 
 Slace is held by Wordsworth. Francis 
 fcflrey, the brilliant reTiewer, says, when 
 speaking of Wordsworth's Excnrsion, " this 
 will never do." fie admits some merit ir 
 the lyrical ballads-an •' extreme simplicity 
 and lowlinoes of tone," wavering prttttily 
 " between stillness and pathos." But the 
 Exeardon is a poor imitation of Oowper and 
 of MUton, engrafted on the natural drawl of 
 the Lakers, and dilated by a profase and ir- 
 repressible wordiness. To those who have 
 studied Wordsworth carefully, aud have 
 with pleasure listened to him singing 
 
 Of truth, of ^audeur, beautv, love and hope 
 And lueloaohoiy tear subdued by faith, 
 Of bleeud ocnsolation in diatrees, 
 Of moral Btrentith and intellectual power, 
 Of joy in wideHt commonalty spread, 
 
 Jeffrey's ostimate appears cruelly unjust* 
 With all Words north's faults, and they ars 
 not a few, he is one of the world's great poets. 
 Let us try to estimate the grounds on which 
 iueb claims rest. 
 
 1. He is a lover of nature. And here, as in 
 much else, •' the child is father of the man." 
 His intense sympathy with nature manifested 
 itself in his boyish rambles over Hawkshead 
 moor and mountain. 
 
 £veu iiieu I feli 
 Oleamalike the flashing of a shield ; the earth 
 And oommou facM of nature Bpake to me, 
 Bememberable things. 
 
 Hia daain to s«« natun in h«r avary mood 
 
 and phase, led him out into the fields at 
 night that he might watch the sttrs. and 
 liuten to the awful voice of the oomitig storm 
 as it strikes on the diitant ruck f earning to 
 have a sight of the sublime and the beautifal 
 he climbed ' the mountains that he might 
 "behold the sun rise up and bathe the world 
 in light." As he looked down on ihe sohd 
 frame of earth and ocean's liqaid mass ; as 
 he touched th« olnads, and in their faces read 
 unutterable love, be felt inspired, and needed 
 not the help of man to enable him to under- 
 stand the scene. In his own words : 
 
 Benaatlon, soul, and form, 
 All melted Into bim ; they swallowed up 
 His animal beiug ; in them di<i he live, 
 Anl by theai did he live ; they were his life. 
 In such acoesa of mind in s icii high hour 
 Of visitaiiou from the living 0< >d, 
 Thought was pot ; in enjoyment it expired, 
 Ni thanks be breathed, he proffer'd no rnqaeit 
 Kayt into still comuiuuion tnut transoenda 
 The iuiperfoot < tticeB of prayor ana praise, 
 His mind was a thanksi^iviug to the Power 
 That made him | it wui blesaednees aud level" 
 
 Born at Oockermoutb in Gumberland, 
 Wordsworth's early years were spent amid 
 scenes lovely, wild, and inapiring. Many a 
 time this tender and iboughtfal boy wander- 
 ed along the pictureeqae rivers of tb^ Derwent 
 and the Cooker, and watched them meeting and 
 mmghng their waters nesf the spot where the 
 ruins of an ancient caatle look down on the 
 quaint old town. Deeply did the scans im- 
 press him. Bpeaking of the Derwont be says : 
 
 One, the fairest of all rivers, loycd 
 To blend his murmurs with uiy nuiae'a song, 
 
 And from his ford aua sbsai owa sent a voice 
 That flow'd along my dreama. 
 
 At the age of eight le was sent to school 
 a* £2BTT£sb6su, sau tails brOoght into con- 
 tact with the other extremity of the Lake 
 scenery. Whether he is setting springs for 
 woodcock, hinging on the naked orags of tha 
 rook in JuB affwta to reach the raven's neat, 
 
no. Od^O 
 
 WdRDSWORTH. 
 
 following the ph. . of the ■olitftry esctle lo 
 raroly 8»-eo, plunftioK into the Wdodn in qaMt 
 of natf<, or liiHRins "aInnR the polubed ioe in 
 |ritni«>H ronft'dt-ratfl" he if t-ver drinkiDg 
 de<>per and deeierdiauRhtn of nature's fonn- 
 tain. In later daya Wordsworth reoogoipei 
 the opflltbful influf'Doei) of natorb in develop* 
 ina «hat wan trn»-8t and beak in hia life, and 
 restraininR him from evil. 
 
 Yet were I groHH'y doHtitute of all 
 
 Those huriiHn Bentiinent-i that make this Partb 
 
 Si dear if I Hhou id fail, with gra'e'ul voice, 
 
 To speak of you, ye aiountainK and ye lakes. 
 
 And Huun<liim oiturai'tH > e tiiigtB and winds 
 
 Tm t dwell auionuthe hill where I was bom. 
 
 If in my youth I have been pure in heart 
 
 I', niinglini; w th the world, I am content 
 
 Witii mv own modent idea-ture-, and have lived 
 
 With Oo'l and nut. ire communing, removed 
 
 From lit leenniiiieti auu low desires, 
 
 The ylf c is yours ; if in theHH •■'■Tii r of fear, 
 
 This innhinch ly wtiste of ' o-ies e'erthrown ; 
 
 If 'mid ind fference iind jiathy. 
 
 And kicked exn ttition wljou good men 
 
 Ou cvi'ry side fall off, we know not how 
 
 ToBc^lflHhu^HH, diH)<ui8e t in uentle names 
 
 Of peiice and .juiet and domestic love, 
 
 Yet mingled not unwdlingly with sneers 
 
 On visionary maidf • if in this t me 
 
 or dereliction and dismay, I yet 
 
 Despair not of our i ature, but retain 
 
 A more thanBoaiiiu confidence, a faith 
 
 That, fails noi, iu all sorrow my support, 
 
 The bleHsiug of my life ; thn gift is > ours, 
 
 Ye winds an • sounding cataracts; 'lis yours, 
 
 Ye mouutuins 1 Thine, O nature ! Ihuu hast fed 
 
 My lofty speculatii ns ; and iu thtj, 
 
 For this uneasy heart of ours, I find 
 
 A never tuiliug i>rinciple of joy 
 
 And put est pabsiuu. 
 
 Even 10 bis t>tadent life at Camoridge love 
 of nature is the rulioR passion. In going up 
 to this ancient and illnstrlona seat of learn- 
 ing, be felt his heart rising as he neared the 
 enehanted around 
 
 As near and nearer to the spot we drew 
 It seemed to suck us in with an eddy's foro.e. 
 
 But evf n in this, the Alma Mater of Hprn- 
 aer, Bt-n Jonson, Marlowe, Drydeo, Cowley, 
 Waller, Milton, Herbert and Gray, Worda- 
 worth could not fiee himself from tLe (*pfll of 
 nature. With pleasure he listened to the col- 
 lege clock tollitig the hours * t»ice over, with 
 a main and ft- male voice." with pleasure be, 
 by the aid of the struggling moobbeams or 
 favoring stars. 
 
 Beheld 
 The anteclinpel, wher- the statue stood 
 Of Newton with his prism and silent face, 
 The marlde index of a mind ft.r evMi 
 Voyiiging through stranse seas of thought, alone, 
 
 fiut with inhuiteiy (irt^atf r pleasure he ^tood 
 under the ' brown o'er aToling (proves, that 
 contemplation Jovt'S." Fr< m his own woida 
 we can picturt- th*- poft tttaliiig out from the 
 dilU oioibttre of the schcoi or to ibe rbade pi 
 the ash trce,wreathed with ivy, decorated with 
 antnibn tassels and wet with the d»w, if not 
 with the spray of the river, and calmly and 
 
 thoaghtfallj oontemplating the 
 "Soaroely Spenser's self." he sayi. 
 
 Could have more tr<>nquii visions in his youth, 
 Or ci >uld more bright uppeMran'-es create 
 Of huiiiaa forms with super-human powers, 
 Than I beheld loitering on cilm clear nights 
 Alune benetth this fairy work of earth. 
 
 Trne the Cambridge soenery is doU uid 
 flat. But in spite of natore's plainness be 
 oonld see food for thonftbt in the green and 
 pleasant grass in the golden glories of day, 
 and in the stately proeession of night. 
 
 As if awakened summoned, rouseil, constrained, 
 I loolted for univer»al things; pursued 
 The common countenance of earth and sky- 
 Earth, nowhere une nbellished by some trace 
 Of that first paradise whence man was driven : 
 And sky, whose beauty i-nd bounty are expressed 
 By the proud name she bears~the name of 
 heaven. 
 
 When aimlessly wandering throagh the 
 streets of London, nature's so»nes were ever 
 present to mould and inspire. What he said 
 of the Farmer of Tilsbory Ttle may be »P' 
 plied to himself. 
 
 In the throng of the town like a stranger is be. 
 Like one whose own country's far over the sea; 
 And nature, while through the great city he hies 
 Fifllten times a day takes his heart b> stirprise. 
 
 In his sonnet on Westminster Bridge he 
 looks upon London as a part of natore—M • 
 child asleep in its mother's arms. 
 
 " The city now doth like a garment wear 
 
 The bf auty of morning ; silent bare. 
 
 Ships, towers, oomes, theatres, and temples lie 
 
 Open unto the fields and to tbe sky ; 
 
 All bri^bt and glittering in tbe smokeless air. 
 
 Never did sun more beautitully steep 
 
 In his first splendour, valley, lock, <<r hill. 
 
 Ne'er saw I, never felt, a ralm so deep I 
 
 Tie river glidetb at his own sweet will. 
 
 Dtar Ood t tbe very bouses seem a leep: 
 
 And all that mighty heart is tying still. 
 
 fieie yon see the poet clothing the smok* 
 brgrimmed city with the briiibt garments of 
 morning, snd placing tower and turret and 
 church and theatre beside the opeu fields and 
 under the calm sky. 
 
 He sees the city not as it is, full of noise 
 and dust and confusion, but as bis loTe of 
 nature led him to conceive it, as something 
 silent, grand and everlasti&g. Pope looked 
 at the country through tbe smoke and fog of 
 the city, and saw little to admire be}ond tbe 
 town limits. Wordsworth beheld tbe o ty in 
 tbe citar light of nature, and saw sights at 
 once beautitui snd rubliKs— sights that the 
 dullest souls could not psss without stopping 
 to acmiie tbtm bteause thtj w*re so touch- 
 ing in their msiesty. In Pope every- 
 thing centers around man and ministers tobii 
 glory ; in Wordsworth naiare is ibe oenier 
 and frrm her tminaie floedsof light and 
 glory. The reaction commenced by Thomson 
 against the artifieialneM of Pope and bii 
 
WORDSWORTH. 
 
 Mhool WM otrried on by Orayand Ooldimith, 
 Oollias, Oowper Md Orabbe. Th laason took 
 man oat of ibe smoke and pe«>tildooe of the 
 eity and placed them in the wooda and brio.* 
 ing air of the moantains. O ray wad t with 
 them to the ooantry sraveyard, and ming'el 
 hie tears with theirs. Qolditmitb. in laDKuat<e 
 trne to nature, sketehel the village and its 
 simpld ooantry life. Oowper gathered ap the 
 langaage and aspirations of the heart after 
 the troe and the good, and in words tbat ap- 
 pealed to the rnotio mon and women of bis 
 day, saag of Ohrist and the great sakatioo ; 
 and Orabbe. oentersng all the int(>rests of his 
 poetry aroand the morals, tht. maaners, the 
 history of the agrioaltoral poor, drew mon'e 
 attention to the great drama of ooantry life. 
 And what these did for England and 
 English speaking people. Barns, sin- 
 gle handed, and in the faoe of ob- 
 itaeles not a few did, for SootUnd, and did 
 it well. This reaotion oalminated in Words- 
 worth. Al me in Limion he is at home in 
 the wild moor or on the bleak mountain. As 
 a boy wiih gentle reverent band he toaohed 
 the nats tbat grew on the haz«l trees, and 
 felt there was a spirit in the woods. Bat 
 here let me quote his own words spoken of 
 his eompanion, as the bast description of his 
 own coodnet and feedings 
 
 There wai a boy, yo know him well, ye cliffs, 
 
 And islands of Winander ! many a »ime 
 
 At eveuing, when tbn earliest stirs began 
 
 To move nlonu the edges of ihe hills. 
 
 Rising and setting, would he stand alone 
 
 Beneath the trees or by the slimmerina lake. 
 
 And there with flngTS interwoven, both hinds 
 
 Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth 
 
 Unlirt-d, he as through an instrument, 
 
 Bl w mimic h >otin^s to the silent owls. 
 
 That »hev mii^ht answer him, and they would 
 
 shout 
 Across the watery vale, and shout again 
 Be'mon-ive to his call, with quivering peals 
 Andlonahalloos ibd "creiim-t, and Hciioiii loud 
 Redoubled and redoubled ; concourse wild 
 Of mirth aud jocun^ din, and when it chanced 
 That pause of deepest silence m'>cknd his skill, 
 Then so jjetimes in that silence while be hung 
 LiBtenita, a gentle sho -k of mild siirpri<e, 
 Ha« oarri 'd f tr into his heirt the voice 
 Of mountain torrents ; or the visible scene 
 Would enter unawares into his mind. 
 With all its solemn im«g ry. it* rocks, 
 Its woods, and that uncertain h-aven received 
 Into the bosom of the steady lake. 
 
 His journey on the oonlinent of Europe 
 brought him into oontaot with new and in« 
 ttruotive phases of nature. Orosaing over 
 the A*p8 and sweeping down towards Italy, 
 throagh the gorge of Gondo, the granleur of 
 the seene^ ravished him with delight, and 
 spokA to bim thicfi Qsatterable, 
 
 The immeasurable height 
 Of wo'»d8 le raying, nev^r to be decayed, 
 The Bta lonary blasti of watnr falls. 
 And in the narrow rent at every turn 
 
 Winds thwarting winds, bewildered and forlorn, 
 
 rhotorrMutaslii) .tiii« from Hit. ..jmir 1)1, lo sky 
 TiHr.ckst lilt inn tor.t.l el s< nixtii our o irs 
 HliKik drizzliii cra-^s that npwke hv tiM ^viiyside 
 As it;i voii-e were ill tfiam tiio nii',k hii^ht 
 An. I «i.|(lv p'ospoct o' till) nivi it* stro imi. 
 The unfottered .-loudmn,! tt-ni m >t iiie Keavens 
 1 iiniult an I pBHct), th ) diirkiie h ami tlio licht. 
 Wore all liko workings of ouo lumi, the fea- 
 tures 
 Of 'hn <ame face, blosnonis upon one tree ; 
 Characters ol the great Ap 'calvpse, 
 The type • an I syiiitols of eternity 
 Of ttrsc and last atd midst aud without ond. 
 
 Erarygale fresh from t^e moantains as- 
 sisted him in his ap«ard il ght ; " every 
 sound or s gbt in its degree of pa*er admin- 
 istered to gran ieur or to tenderneHS "; and 
 thus his eluiation was perfected and new de- 
 lights spreid round '• his steps like sunshine 
 o'er green fields." 
 
 2. Wordsworth's love of man is both deep 
 and pure. Indeed, his constant communion 
 with nature meUnd his heart ani made 
 him truly and tenderly human. Looked at 
 in th's light, bia sympathies are broa ier and 
 more inteuse than those of Byr n, Scott, or 
 Shell *y. In ihii, as in mtioh elwe, he must be 
 placed with Burns, to wh )m he owed so 
 much. Burns taught him that 
 
 The poor inhabitnnt below 
 Was (lui -k to learn and wise to know, 
 And ket Illy felt the friendly glow 
 Aud s jf tor flame." 
 
 Henoa among Euxlish poets " Wordsworth 
 stands foremost and alone as the poet of oom- 
 mou lif--." Defective in humour, he failed to 
 see and expre-s the comic side of English 
 manners. Hure Burns is stronger thtn bis 
 pupil. Refining and enobling the humor, 
 ous, Burns gave exprexsion to the wit and 
 merriment of the oommoa people in songs 
 that can never die If Burns speaks for 
 Scotland's sons and diughters, if Wordsworth 
 paints tie life of t le thoughtful peddler, and 
 of the dreamy recluse; Lord B.yron is the 
 poet of fasbi>soable city lifn. He moves easily 
 among the circles of pleasure and the depths of 
 p4SBioa He shamefully degrades talent. posi« 
 tion and art, to k le service of sensuality, and 
 casts around vice the halo of bis rare genius. 
 In Scott you h*ve a higher moral tone. In 
 Sii Walter, strong, active, bold, romantic, we 
 have the exponent of the old country aristo- 
 crat. The passionate loyalty of the dashing 
 cavalier of tue seventeenth century, expresses 
 itself in the heroic scenes so graphically 
 depicted by the Sottish Advocate 
 of the nineteenth. But if Scotl lov- 
 ed to linirer on the sloriea of t.hu ^et*'"~ 
 •un. Shelley as eagerly peered into t'le d*rk 
 night in the hope of seeing ttie morning star 
 ot a bright and better day. Shelley, as 
 Bnmley nas well put it, is " the poetical rep- 
 
WORDSWORTH, 
 
 rMentetive of thoM whoae hopM Md Hpira. 
 tionf and »ffeotions raih forward to embraoe 
 tbeffreat hereafter, and dwell in raptarsas 
 anticipation on the eomin^ of the golden 
 year, the reign of aniveraal freedom and the 
 eHtablMhment of uniTersiU brotherhood." 
 Thu gentle, fervid and ill fated epirit- 
 •hrinking from the leaat toooh of wrong, and 
 Ored with all the enthusiaflm of the patriot 
 and »»• mwtyr-lewnt in anfl^ring what he 
 taught the world in eong. Like Oarlyle, he 
 bates opprexaion and soorns the oppresBor— 
 poare fl^ds of oont.-mpt op tyrants and their 
 tools. With savage malignity he attacks 
 knave and hypocrite, and holds them up to 
 ■uorn. Gladly he welcomed the French Re- 
 yolation-the delage of blo.jd -beoaase he 
 thought It would bring in the reign of ri^ht 
 and pe*oe on earth. His cruel experience 
 rinsed his hatred and mc ie him fight againnt 
 tne civil and leligious institutions "of Britain, 
 and "lent more glowing colors to the rain- 
 bow of promise that beamed upon him from 
 the distance, through the storm of bloodshed 
 and revolution." But if Lord Byron dwells 
 most on the glories of the brilliant assembly; 
 • V u ,.' ."" ''"K^" 'onwt around baro< 
 nial halls ; if Shelley dips into the future, and 
 in words rich in color as a painted window 
 and sugiestive as the strains of music speaks 
 Of the brotherhood of man and federation of the 
 world; Wordsworth sings of the hopes and 
 J'V*"*'' Md triumphs, of the love 
 and hatred of our common country life. 
 Burns in Scotland and Wordsworth in Eng 
 land have done more than any other two 
 po^ts to break down the conventional barriers 
 that keep man from man, that divide rich 
 and poor, and place them against each other 
 in hostile camps. And in representing the 
 men and women of this work a-day worid 
 Wordsworth has neither vilified the rich nor 
 justified the presence of dirt, disease, vice, 
 and heartlessness so often found in the haunts 
 of the poor. Passing by the accidents of 
 ■tation, he shows us the truth and the beauty 
 of every honest life -the world of poetic 
 wealth in every human breast. 
 
 His mother, whom he lost before he was 
 eight, was truly human, and tenderiy trained 
 her "stiff, moody, and violent tempered" 
 boy. According to Wordsworth his mother 
 believed that the God, " who fills the mother's 
 breast with innocent milk, doth also for onr 
 nobler part provide," and in (bis faith she 
 brought up her son. 
 
 This was her creed, and therefore flho was pure 
 From anxious fear of error orinishap, 
 
 Was not puffed up by false unnatural hopes. 
 Nor aelfisn with unnecessarv care ""*«"»• 
 
 ♦♦♦♦'♦♦ 
 
 Th?w.^I\* «»i«-'»ot ''•om faonlties more strona 
 Than othoiHlmvo, but f.-oni tho tiiiios i>orhiirii 
 An. spot in whicl. nn^ live I, an I t rou'Xa KrLe 
 Of mo I St meBkn.iHH, simple mindedness 
 A heart that found be igulty and hoiw 
 Being itseif benign. ' ' 
 
 But ninoh as Wordsworth owed to his 
 mother, he w%s more indebted to his sister 
 Dorothy. Thoagh two years younger than 
 tbe poet she became his ,^uiding star to in- 
 
 l^hVi 1'T/ "H «•'• *<»°« •"<* tenderness 
 to his whole life. In his poem on the spar- 
 row s nest he thus speaks of her ; 
 
 The blossinp! of my later years 
 Was with me when a boy • 
 A B'lve me ey..H, ahe gave me ears 
 And humble (laroa and delicate feai-s : 
 
 A heart, the f uutiun of sw^et tears • 
 And love and thought and joy. 
 
 This education, so loringly and faithfully 
 begun by mother and sister, was carried on 
 and completed at school and college. Though 
 bis university oourne was not distinguished, 
 
 brought into closer contact with the great 
 drama of life. It was here that he began to 
 study the workinga of passion, to analyse 
 character, and make himself acquainted i^th 
 the springs of action. Indeed his college 
 training gave him the Catholic feeling so 
 beautifully expressed in some of his poems, 
 and enriched his vocabulary not a little It 
 enabled him to combine the homely pathos of 
 Orabbe, and the philosophic breadih of Ool- 
 endge-the profound speoulatioas of the 
 philosopher and the simple narrative of the 
 historian of the poor. 
 
 But the event that touched his heart most, 
 and set his blood boiling, was the French 
 
 the fall of the tyrant and the rise of the reign 
 of the rights of man as man. As he listened 
 
 t- i* ?Il °f ''"'"y* *^"*"»y "d fraternity, 
 he could feel every pulse of tbe movement m 
 bis own heart, and responding could say : 
 
 «.T°J"* the language of IBrooke. Wordsworth 
 was a natural Republican. Besides, there 
 was much to attract the young and imagina. 
 tive, in that great upheaving. " But we. who 
 live upon the broad river of it. thougS l^n 
 
 rJ iJLw • »l* i*''°« '°°°* "^ ■»"•»■. from 
 
 ita rock in the desert to quench the thirst of 
 those who longed, but knew not till it came 
 
 which though not dull, are sad coloured can 
 warcely imagine the glory of that awaking. 
 lit' ~»u — "\"-^" Buuuguto laat transagured 
 We. the passionate emotion, the love and 
 hatred, the horror and the rapture, the via- 
 lonaiy glones. the onaltenble hopes. th« 
 
WORDSWORTH. 
 
 ■enie of deliT«nnee, the new hMren uid tb* 
 n«w earth, brimlall of promii^s which 
 dawned on men. " 
 
 Before them shone a glorious world. 
 Fresh aa h banner bright, unfurled 
 10 mu8io Hu laenly, 
 
 Wordf worth's friend, Coleridge, wm ander 
 a Bimitar ipell. He repreaante freedom as a 
 fieroe minister of lo?e, with whirlwind arm 
 leaping from the bosom of the Almighty' 
 But both Wordsworth and Goleri^te were 
 doomed to be dissapointed. If Wordsworth 
 eould see nothing but gold in the 
 beginning as the end came he 
 ooald easily perceive the dross of the 
 9*^er Bide of the shield. He was 
 mied with horror as he saw Prance on her 
 knees at the feet of N*pol«on, whom he dis- 
 toasted and hated. Bat in the sad school of 
 bloated hopes, his heart became mons tender 
 and clang more to what was haman. Doabt- 
 less hix study of the social condition of the 
 workingmen of France made a deep and last- 
 ing impression for good. It preparid him to 
 ' 7mpathize with the peasants, and reprodaoa 
 their feelings as he has done in Michael. 
 
 . , u . . ''Isabel." said he, 
 
 I have been toihnij more than seventy years 
 Andin theopenHimshiueof God's love 
 Have we all lived ; yet if thoio ttelds of'ours 
 Should pass into a stranijer's hands, I think 
 inat I could not be quiet in my ferave," 
 
 Is this not a faithful expression of the 
 farmer's grief at the thought of being forced 
 to part with his farm ? There is not a line in 
 that beantifnl poem that is not irae to nature. 
 Every stroke proclaims the hand of a master 
 and the picture of the farmer's grief is simply 
 
 P6n60t* 
 
 But we would do his wife a gross injustice 
 did we not give her a place in the list of 
 those edaoators who taught him how to love 
 the true and the geod. Admiring the genias 
 of her husband; sympathising with him in his 
 trials ; rejoicing, in his joy she was a true 
 wile, " dearer far than Ufe and light are 
 dear," With a keen, practical eye, and a 
 tasie for poetry, she was able to correct some 
 of her husband's faults. Two of the best 
 lines of the poem entitled the Daffodils— 
 
 They flash upon that inward eye 
 Which is the bliss of solitude— 
 
 are her composition. By this happy union— 
 a nnionof head and of heart— Wordsworth's 
 lot was blessed, and the tonderest emotions 
 developed. How be enjoyed the prattle and 
 the dm of bin loved children ! If the daisy, 
 bv the shadnw that it Aao*o pf^t^.i- ^.x.. 
 
 lingering dew drop from the sun, Words- 
 worth's children protected him from the cares 
 of the world, and were to him a joy and an in- 
 spiration. How doea he speftk of Doni, his 
 
 infant daughter r He calls bar that bright 
 ■Ur, the second glory of the heavena. 
 
 Smiles h ive there been soon 
 Irannuil assurances thtt heaven «upi)ort« 
 Th V tf'\l ™""'""' 1* ^'^V life. aS.l Srs ' 
 I hy louolineHs ; or shall th.me seniles bo called 
 
 This untnoil w..rld, and to i.repai« thv wav 
 H '.nh at'* ?h'"""' »•,""•*«" '"'"-ioaie and dim I 
 Whinh '" f "y • •""I t'»" HHmo are tokens ™gt„ 
 Which when the appointed season biitharrivn.I 
 Joy as her holiest l.n-uago. shall adont' 
 And reason's godlike power be proud to own. 
 But much as we may love to dwell on the 
 peace, the love, and the joy of the poet's 
 home, we must pass on. and consider the 
 poet's faith in things unseen. 
 
 3. Wordiworth's faith. Some call him 
 deist, some pantheist, and some high church- 
 
 !^r;».^''''°°*uT''*''8 *o KO too minutely 
 into the ex-ot shade of his theological belief, 
 I think It right to say that his faith in a per- 
 sonal God was strong and constant. In 
 writing to a friend he says. •• among the 
 more awful scenes of the Alps I had not a 
 thought of man ; my whole soul was turned 
 to Uim who produced the terrible m jestv 
 before mer True, at timea he speaks as the 
 pantheist does. Take his well known lines 
 JO Mjisiting Tintern Abbey as an iUustra* 
 
 ^ , And I have felt 
 
 A presence that disturbs cue with the joy 
 
 Of elevated though is ; a sense subhme 
 
 Of something far more deeply iuterfused. 
 
 Whoso dwellmg is the light of setting suiis. 
 
 Au(l tue round ocean, aud the living *ir 
 
 And the blue sky. and in the mind cf man 
 
 '\raoiion and a spi it, that impels 
 
 All thinking things, all objects and all thorn ■ 
 
 And rolls through ail things. 
 
 Taken by themselves those words seem t j 
 teach pantheism. But these lines must be 
 looked at in the light of all that he has writ- 
 ten elsewhere of God as a personal Being. 
 And thus viewed they no more teach pan- 
 theism than Paul does when he declares that 
 God is not far from each one of us ; for in 
 Him we live, and move, and have our beina. 
 
 thlf'Sir ""'•'"8. ».o »»>• conclusion 
 that Wordsworth 18 either atheist, deist, or 
 pantheist let us carefully examine his Eooles- 
 lasuoal sonnets - sonnets in which he ex- 
 presses hia faith and hope. And a glance at 
 them will show that we may fairly apply to 
 him the words of Tennyson. '*'*''*" 
 
 I falter wLere I firmly trr d 
 
 it^*"'/k "'°''' 7,^*^ "^y w-'ght of cares 
 Upon the world's groat altai- stah-s 
 That slope thro' darkness up to God, 
 
 I stretch lamnhaarlu of *,.i*i, „^j ._ ' 
 
 And gather dust and"chaff. and caU ^'"' 
 To what I feel is Lord of all 
 And f amtly trust the larger hope. 
 Nor is his faith in God concealed in his 
 other worka. Look at his aablime ode on the 
 
WORDSWORTH. 
 
 Intimttiona of Immortolity-onsof lh« eabllM' 
 eit in my iMiraage— and we Me hie belief in 
 God elearlr ezpresaed. 
 
 Om hirth is but a nleep and a forgetting ; 
 
 Th« Houl thiit riHHH wl»,h iin our lite'n star 
 Hath had olsowhere its netting, 
 
 And coinoth from afar , 
 Not ill entire forgetfuliieHH, 
 
 And not in uttor niiltedneHS, 
 But trallinK cloudn of glorv do we coute 
 
 From Ood, who ;b our homo. 
 
 He repreaeota. m Plato did, th»t the ohild 
 had ite home with Qod before it took u ite 
 abode on the earth. When ipnakinR of the 
 eyenins'a oaln on the betoh of Oalaia, he 
 ffifes ezpreasiun to the same Mntiment. 
 
 It la a beautoouB evening, calm and free : 
 The holy time is quiet an a nun 
 BreathlesH with adoration ; th.> broad aun 
 Is iinkinadown in itstr.inquility; 
 The g ntloiieBs of hoHVon iH «n the sea. 
 Listen I the raiohty b«ini/ in awaite. 
 And doth with his eternal motion make 
 A sound like thunder evorlast ngly 
 Dear child I dear girl ! thou walkest withme here, 
 U thou appear Bt untouche i bv solemn thought. 
 Thv nature is nit thernfore lesH divine. 
 Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year • 
 An 1 worshipn'st at the te^iple's in er shrine, 
 God being with thee when we know it not. 
 
 Hear how Brooke apeaks of Wordaworth 
 andhia religion. "Oargreateat poet ainoe 
 Milton, waa aa religioaa aa Milton, and in 
 both I cannot bat think the element of gran- 
 deur of atyle which belonga ao pre-eminently 
 to them fl iwed largely from the aolemn aimx 
 plioity and the atrength which a dignified 
 and anbisoted faith in great realitiea beyond 
 thia world gave to the order of their thonghta. 
 Uoleridge waa flying from one apeoolation to 
 anethpr all hia life. Sodtt had no vital joy 
 in hia belief, an<1 it did not interpenetrate bia 
 poetry. Byron bfliaved in Fate more than 
 in Ood. Shellpy float(>d in an ideal world, 
 whiph had not the advantage of being general- 
 leed from anv realitiea - and not one of them 
 poaae^ana, (though Byron oomea near it now 
 and then,) the gran*2 style. Wordaworth 
 alone, combining fine artiatio power with 
 profound religion, walka whe«e be chooaea. 
 though he limpa wretchedly at 
 timea, with nearly aa stately a atep 
 aa Milton. Be bad two qualities wbion 
 always go with the grand stvle in poetry -he 
 lived intensely in the preaent, aod he had the 
 roota of hia being fixed in a great center of 
 nower— faith in the eternal righteouaoeaa 
 and love of Ood." Wordaworth never could 
 have reached the heighta he did if he had not 
 laid hold of the hand of Ood, and by thia 
 means lifted himaelf up. Oo where he may 
 he i« AVer hannted hv tha 1i<t<»inai ikf :..^ .- 
 
 cradled in the arma of divine love. It ia the 
 sense of Ood's presence that makea hia poems 
 ■0 oahn and oemforting, and helpful to the 
 
 troubled spirit. Whan John Btuart Mill Ml 
 into despondency, as he gaind upon the 
 wreck that his rutbleaa analyaia had wrought, 
 he wa-j rouaed. and cheered, and atrengtheoed 
 by reading Wordaworth. And what did 
 Wordsworth do for Mill t He gave him an inn 
 sight into the spiritual, the true, and thelaat- 
 ing. The poet with hia whole soul had 
 graaped the hand of the Eternal, and was 
 leaning his weakness on the arm of the Omni- 
 potent. With clear eye he could see 
 
 .J . . The ever during power 
 And central peacasubiiistinR at the heart 
 Of endless agitation. 
 
 Had I time, and were this the plaee, I eonld 
 show Wordsworth's belief in prayer : 
 
 Oh ! there is never sorrow of heart 
 
 Th it shall lack a timely end, 
 
 If but to Ood we turn and ask 
 
 Of Him to oe our friend." 
 
 Enough however has been said to show 
 that Wordsworth was not faithless, but be- 
 ueving. 
 
 4. Wordsworth's poems are morally high 
 toned and spiritually healthy. Tennyson 
 receiving the laureate wreath from the Queen 
 —a wreath he so gracefully wears -pays 
 Wordsworth a high compliment when he 
 says : 
 
 " Your royal grace 
 „ To one of leas desert allows 
 Tmslaure greener than the brows 
 Of him that uttered nothing base." 
 In Byron the purest gold is mixed up with 
 the vilest dross ; in Burns the finest wheat is 
 imbedded in the coarsest chaff Theae two 
 kings of song havM crowns disfigured with 
 dark blots. Hhelley tjo is open to the same 
 censure. Prom causes more honorable to 
 himself, he has said much thst be ought to 
 have left unsaid. But Wordawonh's hands 
 are clean, because his heart is pure. The 
 high priest of nature, the mediator between 
 nch and poor, the ohimpion of liberty and of 
 truth, the prophet of heaven's peac^ and good 
 will to e»rth, Wirdsworth's poems t.re aa 
 morally bracing as his m inntain air ia pbysi- 
 Mlly. What they did for John Stuart Mill, 
 they will do for every honeit aoi diligent 
 reader. With Wordsworth as your guide and 
 interpreter, the meanest fl iwer thit blows 
 will suggest thoughts •• that lie too deep for 
 tears." *^ 
 
 In«nirn4 by hi* Iovm of nature, 
 Ore .impulse from the vernal wood 
 
 Will teach you more of man. 
 Of mortal evil, and of good, 
 
 Than all the sages can. 
 
 Hisreverenoe is so great that he aava tn 
 Ihts dear maiden standing under the shade ol 
 the nut tree, and longing to pull and eat 
 
 m . ^ ^.^ Wihg«ntl<» hand 
 Touch— for there !« a spirit in the woods. 
 
 1 
 
 
'\- 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 Bat «b«tta«r watehlng the oblld of nn 
 DMatj fMdlog the anow white moantein Umb 
 or waoderiDR tbrouffh the eboroh jud wber* 
 be meets • bloomioK E*rl wboM hair is •' vet 
 with point* of moroiuv dnw ;•• whether ha 
 ■tAOds Id the deep eilenoe Lsfore the battle, 
 and eaile on Eoglaod'a eoDa to rise op in 
 their miKbt, and antwer the French orv ' to 
 glory" with Eoglaod'a anhiime err of 
 •• duty." or wcepa aa he aees the doga of war 
 Ml looae, and the best blood of man alain in 
 thename of jaitioe. rtaaon aod bamanity; 
 he ia ever the aame tender, true, and faitbfol 
 gnide who telle n« •• We muat be free or die 
 who apeak the toogae thai Sbakupere apoke ; 
 the faith and morale bold wbiob Milton heltf.' 
 In tbia feveriah and reatleaa age, " when 
 men obaoge aworda for ledgera. and deeert 
 the atadt-nts' bow»r for gold -an age when 
 OT ry door ia laid with gold, and opena but to 
 go den keya-Wordaworth'a poemaareaimUy 
 Talnable beyond all prioe. He will, if read teach 
 the ruing generation to think deep, live plain, 
 and ao right. In hie pagea you are bronght 
 face to face with nature, man and God, and 
 never doea he put a elood bttween you and 
 these great leacht-ra. He lets them apeak to 
 Ton directly and the effect ia good both Intel- 
 lectaally and morally. Nature heraelf seems, 
 as Arnold puis it, to "take the pen out of hit 
 hand, and to write for him with her own true, 
 sheer, penetrating power. This arises from 
 two causes- from the profound sincereness 
 witd which Wordsworth feels his subject, and 
 ai*o from the profoundly sincere and natural 
 character of his aobj^ct itself He can and 
 will treat »uch a subject with nothing but th] 
 moet plain, flist bsnd. almost aurtere nature 
 alcess. His expresaion may often be called 
 bald, as, for inatance, in the poem of Bevolu- 
 tion and Independence ; but it is as the bare 
 monntein is bald, with a baldness which 
 IS full of grandeur. As an antidote to the 
 vnnatural. wild, love and hatred, blood and 
 murder novels that are devoured by the masse a 
 JD "or day. I would commend a oourae of care- 
 ful Woidsworthian reading. GonUot with a 
 Bpirii at once ao true and tender, ao humaa 
 and yet with so much of God in it, is certain 
 to purify the affections, and expand our 
 muda. Let us cast out the unclean epirit of 
 a gross and demoralizing sensationalism by 
 introducing the angel of light ana of purity. 
 
 6. Wordsworth's poetic theory. In this 
 he is extreme and weak. His practice is 
 better than hia creed. His theory is an 
 
 emnhatlA nrntaat •!>■!>••* tltA ^^.«_;-_- .« 
 
 Jeffrey and the practice of Pope and his 
 iohool. In attacking their artificialneas, he 
 laid down two prineiplea, and from these he 
 elaborated his theory of poetry. H« held 
 
 that the true poet loft the stale, stereotyped 
 phraseology of books, and went direct to the 
 men and women of his day, and from them 
 learned how to apeak ; and ibut the language 
 of true poetry in no way diflera from that of 
 good prose. Hie friend and admirer, Oole> 
 ridge, di»patea the truth of both poaitions. 
 and CDDvicta Wordaworth of falae phUoeopby. 
 With Wordaworth he agrees in condemning 
 "the gaudy, affectation of style which had long 
 passed currebt for poetic diction," and refusea 
 to call that poetry which would be intolerable 
 in conversation or in prose. But Coleridge 
 d*-Diu8 that the peasant's hmnuage is better 
 adapted for poetic purpose than that of the 
 rt fined. Besides. Wordaworth forgot that 
 the language of the peasant, puriffed of aU 
 that was either ooarae or provinoiH, was not 
 that of every day life. Indeed, as Principal 
 Bhairp has shewn, an Goltoridge has proved, 
 Hooker, Bacon and Burke use language aa 
 real, as expreMive. and more oomprebensive 
 than that of the unthinking and uneducated. 
 " The languago of these writers differa far 
 leaa from the usage of cultivated society, than 
 the language of Wordsworth's homeliest 
 pof mil differs from the talk of bullock driT- 
 
 Again, Coleridge takes issue with Worda- 
 worth on the second point, and argues f>bat 
 as poetry implies more passion than 
 prose, it must have a more impassioned lan- 
 gaage in which to expreas itself. The feel- 
 ing creates a new medium, and gives tone and 
 color to the langnaje. Doubtless this defec- 
 tive theory led Wordsworth into some of his 
 faults— the wordy prose, the lack of art. the 
 absence of glowug passion. Wordsworth is 
 what he -t in spita of his theory. But 
 though >; J ••eme, his faults lean to virtue's 
 ■ide. £«.«^Jes, by raising the queetion of 
 poetic language, and by writing aimply and 
 naturally as he did, be powerfully influenced 
 the litonunre of this century, and all for 
 good. 
 
 In taking my farewell of one so dear to me 
 as a friend. I cannot find language more an- 
 propriate than his own : 
 
 I th'-u«ht of thee, my partner and my suida 
 Ab beiDg past away— vain Bympaihy ! 
 
 For baoKward &b I cast mv eyeB, 
 
 4^? ^Jy** **■• *°<^ *■• and wilt abide : 
 StUl cUdes t t stream, and sfaaU forever idid« • 
 The form remains, the function never dfts • ' 
 While we, the brave, the mighty, aad the wiae 
 We men . whi I m the mom of youth defied 
 
 The elements, must vanish— be it so I 
 Euough, if Bomethino from cur h 
 
 power, 
 llv 
 
 3«tS 
 
 iiaro 
 
 To live, to act and serve the future hour: 
 And if, as toward the silent tomb we so 
 Throui h love threugh hope, and faTth'a trana- 
 cendent power, -•■"■ 
 
 We feel that we are greater than we know "