The Shorter Poems of William Wordsworth (Classic Reprint)
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| Hersteller: | Forgotten Books (Author, Unknown) |
| Stand: | 2015-08-04 03:50:33 |
Produktbeschreibung
Excerpt from The Shorter Poems of William Wordsworth Time goes on and the colours of our days change, but we return to Wordsworth as we turn again to Skiddaw and Helvellyn. There are certain subject swamps and dead-levels to be crossed before the real ascent begins; but we are sure of our mountain rapture in the end, and his effect is not the less sure because of the huge prosaic substance of his base. Wordsworth was the mountain, as Coleridge was the magic valley, among the poets of their time; and if we gain in one way, we assuredly lose in others, by paring him down as Matthew Arnold did into a pocket-Parnassus. We need not, as it is, explore all his waste of later sonnets and can avoid everywhere his obvious debris; but even these help in some heavy substructural way to make up his British weight and mass and his final impressiveness. By having Wordsworth in his extent, moreover, we are better able to realise him in his history, from the days when he mixed in the very ferment of the French Revolution to those when he retired from a world which "a vast meander is," to quote his favourite Countess of Winchilsea, and took up his retreat in his native Lake district. Thence he looked back with distrust at the smoke of the cities of the plain, and heard uneasily the distant rumbling of the cart-wheels of the English revolutionaries, which sounded in his ear, it may be, too much like the noise of the tumbrils that had carried the victims to the guillotine. The French Revolution was not the cause of his going into his mountain retreat; the real need for that was in the rugged Cumbrian constitution of the man himself. But in the story of Wordsworth the boundless imaginative expansion of his youth, when he was a hot recruit to the army of freedom, is the inevitable forerunner of the period of his contraction. You see how the one thing led on to, and seemed to require, the other, when you catch his note of exultation (in "The Prelude") over the death of Robespierre: "´Come now, ye golden times,´ Said I forth-pouring on those open sands A hymn of triumph: ´as the morning comes From out the bosom of the night, come ye: Thus far our trust is verified; behold I About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
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