Dejection: An Ode
Written April 4, 1802
- 1Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, With the old Moon in her
arms;
- 2And I fear, I fear, my Master dear! We shall have a deadly storm.
Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence.
- 3Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made
- 4The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,
- 5This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence
- 6Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade
- 7Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes,
- 8Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes
- 9Upon the strings of this Æolian lute,
- 10Which better far were mute.
- 11For lo! the New-moon winter-bright!
- 12And overspread with phantom light,
- 13(With swimming phantom light o'erspread
- 14But rimmed and circled by a silver thread)
- 15I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling
- 16The coming-on of rain and squally blast.
- 17And oh! that even now the gust were swelling,
- 18And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast!
- 19Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed,
- 20And sent my soul abroad,
- 21Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,
- 22Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live!
- 23A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
- 24A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief,
- 25Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,
- 26In word, or sigh, or tear--
- 27O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood,
- 28To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd,
- 29All this long eve, so balmy and serene,
- 30Have I been gazing on the western sky,
- 31And its peculiar tint of yellow green:
- 32And still I gaze--and with how blank an eye!
- 33And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,
- 34That give away their motion to the stars;
- 35Those stars, that glide behind them or between,
- 36Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen:
- 37Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew
- 38In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue;
- 39I see them all so excellently fair,
- 40I see, not feel, how beautiful they are!
- 41My genial spirits fail;
- 42And what can these avail
- 43To lift the smothering weight from off my breast?
- 44It were a vain endeavour,
- 45Though I should gaze for ever
- 46On that green light that lingers in the west:
- 47I may not hope from outward forms to win
- 48The passion and the Life, whose fountains are within.
- 49O Lady! we receive but what we give,
- 50And in our life alone does Nature live:
- 51Ours is her wedding garment, ours her
shroud!
- 52And would we aught behold, of higher worth,
- 53Than that inanimate cold world allowed
- 54To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
- 55Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth
- 56A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
- 57Enveloping the Earth--
- 58And from the soul itself must there be sent
- 59A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
- 60Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
- 61O pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of me
- 62What this strong music in the soul may be!
- 63What, and wherein it doth exist,
- 64This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist,
- 65This beautiful and beauty-making power.
- 66Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne'er was given,
- 67Save to the pure, and in their purest hour,
- 68Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower,
- 69Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power,
- 70Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower
- 71A new Earth and new Heaven,
- 72Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud--
- 73Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud--
- 74We in ourselves rejoice!
- 75And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,
- 76All melodies the echoes of that voice,
- 77All colours a suffusion from that light.
- 78There was a time when, though my path was rough,
- 79This joy within me dallied with distress,
- 80And all misfortunes were but as the stuff
- 81Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness:
- 82For hope grew round me, like the twining vine,
- 83And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine.
- 84But now afflictions bow me down to earth:
- 85Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth;
- 86But oh! each visitation
- 87Suspends what nature gave me at my birth,
- 88My shaping spirit of Imagination.
- 89For not to think of what I needs must feel,
- 90But to be still and patient, all I can;
- 91And haply by abstruse research to steal
- 92From my own nature all the natural man--
- 93This was my sole resource, my only plan:
- 94Till that which suits a part infects the whole,
- 95And now is almost grown the habit of my soul.
- 96Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind,
- 97Reality's dark dream!
- 98I turn from you, and listen to the wind,
- 99Which long has raved unnoticed. What a scream
- 100Of agony by torture lengthened out
- 101That lute sent forth! Thou Wind, that rav'st without,
- 102Bare crag, or mountain-tairn,or blasted tree,
- 103Or pine-grove whither woodman never clomb,
- 104Or lonely house, long held the witches' home,
- 105Methinks were fitter instruments for thee,
- 106Mad Lutanist! who in this month of showers,
- 107Of dark-brown gardens, and of peeping flowers,
- 108Mak'st Devils' yule, with worse than wintry song,
- 109The blossoms, buds, and timorous leaves among.
- 110Thou Actor, perfect in all tragic sounds!
- 111Thou mighty Poet, e'en to frenzy bold!
- 112What tell'st thou now about?
- 113'Tis of the rushing of an host in rout,
- 114With groans, of trampled men, with smarting wounds--
- 115At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold!
- 116But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence!
- 117And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd,
- 118With groans, and tremulous shudderings--all is over--
- 119It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud!
- 120A tale, of less affright,
- 121And tempered with delight,
- 122As Otway's self had framed the tender lay,--
- 123'Tis of a little child
- 124Upon a lonesome wild,
- 125Not far from home, but she hath lost her way:
- 126And now moans low in bitter grief and fear,
- 127And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear.
- 128'Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep:
- 129Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
- 130Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
- 131And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
- 132May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,
- 133Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth!
- 134With light heart may she rise,
- 135Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
- 136Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice;
- 137To her may all things live, from pole to pole,
- 138Their life the eddying of her living soul!
- 139O simple spirit, guided from above,
- 140Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice,
- 141Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice.