![]() ![]() The fact that Wordsworth adds “the gleam / The light that never was, on sea or land, / The consecration, and the poet’s dream” to his painting suggests that something as it is retrospectively represented in an image is not the same as that thing when it was perceived. On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss (13-20). I would have painted thee, thou hoary Pileīeside a sea that could not cease to smile The light that never was, on sea or land, To express what then I saw and add the gleam He describes how, had he been a painter, the painting he would have produced would have been very different:Īh! THEN, if mine had been the Painter’s hand In contrast to the tumult of Beaumont’s painting, Wordsworth remembers Peele Castle in a state of unshakeable peace. Wordsworth begins the poem by noting how different his own memory of the castle was from Beaumont’s. “Elegiac Stanzas” was inspired by a painting by Sir George Beaumont of Peele Castle - which Wordsworth lived by briefly - in a storm. They definitely form, as the title suggests, an elegy, although to multiple things rather than one thing in particular, and one of the things being elegized is Wordsworth’s old way of writing poetry. Nonetheless, the “Elegiac Stanzas” attest to a change in Wordsworth’s poetry. ![]() Any attempt to present, for example, Wordsworth’s conception of memory as something uniform and complete unto itself, must necessarily be an abstraction, something constructed out of the common strands that underlie the different appearances of this idea in his poetry. ![]() There is, in other words, no point in his prior writings in which Wordsworth definitively explains these ideas. ![]() These ideas appear in various forms in Wordsworth’s poetry preceding the “Elegiac Stanzas,” sometimes in ways that seem contradictory, and which moreover are set forth in ambiguous language that allows for multiple interpretations. And, when thy Mother weeps for Thee, Lost Youth! a solitary Mother This tribute from a casual Friend A not unwelcome aid may lend, To feed the tender luxury, The rising pang to smother.William Wordsworth’s late poem “Elegiac Stanzas” brings together a number of ideas and motifs that had already been present in his poetry up to that point: the nature of memory and perception, the theme of substitution, and Wordsworth’s preoccupation with joy and pleasure. Lamented Youth! to thy cold clay Fit obsequies the Stranger paid And piety shall guard the Stone Which hath not left the spot unknown Where the wild waves resigned their prey- And 'that' which marks thy bed. Not vain is sadly-uttered praise The words of truth's memorial vow Are sweet as morning fragrance shed From flowers 'mid GOLDAU'S ruins bred As evening's fondly-lingering rays, On RIGHI'S silent brow. Fetch, sympathising Powers of air, Fetch, ye that post o'er seas and lands, Herbs, moistened by Virginian dew, A most untimely grave to strew, Whose turf may never know the care Of 'kindred' human hands! Beloved by every gentle Muse He left his Transatlantic home: Europe, a realised romance, Had opened on his eager glance What present bliss!-what golden views! What stores for years to come! Though lodged within no vigorous frame, His soul her daily tasks renewed, Blithe as the lark on sun-gilt wings High poised-or as the wren that sings In shady places, to proclaim Her modest gratitude. We parted upon solemn ground Far-lifted towards the unfading sky But all our thoughts were 'then' of Earth, That gives to common pleasures birth And nothing in our hearts we found That prompted even a sigh. We met, while festive mirth ran wild, Where, from a deep lake's mighty urn, Forth slips, like an enfranchised slave, A sea-green river, proud to lave, With current swift and undefiled, The towers of old LUCERNE. If foresight could have rent the veil Of three short days-but hush-no more! Calm is the grave, and calmer none Than that to which thy cares are gone, Thou Victim of the stormy gale Asleep on ZURICH'S shore! O GODDARD! what art thou?-a name- A sunbeam followed by a shade! Nor more, for aught that time supplies, The great, the experienced, and the wise: Too much from this frail earth we claim, And therefore are betrayed. And we were gay, our hearts at ease With pleasure dancing through the frame We journeyed all we knew of care- Our path that straggled here and there Of trouble-but the fluttering breeze Of Winter-but a name. Lulled by the sound of pastoral bells, Rude Nature's Pilgrims did we go, From the dread summit of the Queen Of mountains, through a deep ravine, Where, in her holy chapel, dwells "Our Lady of the Snow." The sky was blue, the air was mild Free were the streams and green the bowers As if, to rough assaults unknown, The genial spot had 'ever' shown A countenance that as sweetly smiled- The face of summer-hours. ![]()
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