The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth Volume Ii Part 111

Of Him who walked in glory and in joy 45 Following his plough, along the mountain-side: [6]

By our own spirits are we deified: We Poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come [7] in the end despondency and madness.

VIII Now, whether it were [8] by peculiar grace, 50 A leading from above, a something given, Yet it befel, that, in this [9] lonely place, When I with these untoward thoughts had striven, Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven [10]

I saw [11] a Man before me unawares: 55 The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.

[12]

IX As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie Couched on the bald top of an eminence; Wonder to all who [13] do the same espy, By what means it could thither come, and whence; 60 So that it seems a thing endued with sense: Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that [14] on a shelf Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself;

X Such seemed this Man, not all alive nor dead, Nor all asleep--in his extreme old age: 65 His body was bent double, feet and head Coming together in life's pilgrimage; [15]

As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage Of sickness felt by him in times long past, A more than human weight upon his frame [16] had cast. 70

XI Himself he propped, limbs, body, and pale face, [17]

Upon a long grey staff of shaven wood: And, still as I drew near with gentle pace, Upon the margin of that moorish flood [18]

Motionless as a cloud the old Man stood, 75 That heareth not the loud winds when they call; And moveth all together, if it move [19] at all.

[20]

XII At length, himself unsettling, he the pond Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look Upon the muddy water, which he conned, 80 As if he had been reading in a book: And now a stranger's privilege I took; [21]

And, drawing to his side, to him did say, "This morning gives us promise of a glorious day."

XIII A gentle answer did the old Man make, 85 In courteous speech which forth he slowly drew: And him with further words I thus bespake, "What occupation do you there pursue? [22 This is a lonesome place for one like [23] you."

Ere he replied, a flash of mild surprise 90 Broke from the sable orbs of his yet-vivid eyes. [24] [B]

XIV His words came feebly, from a feeble chest, But [25] each in solemn order followed each, With something of a lofty [26] utterance drest-- Choice word [27] and measured phrase, above [27] the reach 95 Of ordinary men; a stately speech; Such as grave Livers do in Scotland use, Religious men, who give to G.o.d and man their dues.

XV He told, that to these waters he had come [28]

To gather leeches, being old and poor: 100 Employment hazardous and wearisome!

And he had many hardships to endure: [29]

From pond to pond he roamed, from moor to moor; Housing, with G.o.d's good help, by choice or chance; And in this way he gained an honest maintenance. 105

XVI The old Man still stood talking by my side; But now [30] his voice to me was like a stream Scarce heard; nor word from word could I divide; And the whole body of the Man did seem Like one whom I had met with in a dream; 110 Or like a man from some far region sent, To give me human strength, by apt admonishment. [31]

XVII My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills; And [32] hope that is unwilling to be fed; Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills; 115 And mighty Poets in their misery dead.

--Perplexed, and longing to be comforted, [33]

My question eagerly did I renew, "How is it that you live, and what is it you do?" [34]

XVIII He with a smile did then his words repeat; 120 And said, that, gathering leeches, far and wide He travelled; stirring thus about his feet The waters of the pools where they abide. [35]

"Once I could meet with them on every side; But they have dwindled long by slow decay; 125 Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may." [36]

XIX While he was talking thus, the lonely place, The old Man's shape, and speech--all troubled me: In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace About the weary moors continually, 130 Wandering about alone and silently.

While I these thoughts within myself pursued, He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed.

XX And soon [37] with this he other matter blended, Cheerfully uttered, with demeanour kind, 135 But stately in the main; and when he ended, [38]

I could have laughed myself to scorn to find In that decrepit Man so firm a mind.

"G.o.d," said I, "be my help and stay secure; I'll think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!" 140

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1827.

... which, ... 1807.

And in MS. letter from Coleridge to Sir George Beaumont, 1802.[i]]

[Variant 2:

1820.

... singing ... 1807.

And MS. 1802.]

[Variant 3:

1807.

... happy ... MS. 1802.]

[Variant 4:

1807.

And they who lived in genial faith found nought that grew more willingly than genial good; MS. 1802.]

[Variant 5:

1815.

... who perished in his pride; MS. 1802.

... that perished in its pride; 1807.]

[Variant 6:

1820.

Behind his plough, upon the mountain-side: 1807.