The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth Volume I Part 98

1815.

And he is ... 1798.]

[Variant 3:

1837.

... these ... 1798.]

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: A mediaeval antic.i.p.ation of this may be quoted in a footnote.

"Believe me, as my own experience," once said St. Bernard, "you will find more in the woods than in books; the forests and rocks will teach you more than you can learn from the greatest Masters."

I quote this, as sent to me by a friend; but the only pa.s.sage at all approaching to it which I can verify is the following:

"Quidquid in Scripturis valet, quidquid in eis spiritualiter sent.i.t, maxime in silvis et in agris meditando et orando se confitetur accep.i.s.se, et in hoc nullos aliquando se magistros habuisse nisi quercus et f.a.gos joco illo suo gratioso inter amicos dicere solet."

See the appendix to Mabillon's edition of 'Bernardi Opera', ii. 1072, 'S. Bernardi Vita, et Res Gesta, auctore Guilielmo'.--Ed.]

THE COMPLAINT OF A FORSAKEN INDIAN WOMAN

Composed 1798.--Published 1798.

When a Northern Indian, from sickness, is unable to continue his journey with his companions; he is left behind, covered over with Deer-skins, and is supplied with water, food, and fuel if the situation of the place will afford it. He is informed of the track which his companions intend to pursue, and if he is unable to follow, or overtake them, he perishes alone in the Desart; unless he should have the good fortune to fall in with some other Tribes of Indians. It is unnecessary to add that the females are equally, or still more, exposed to the same fate. See that very interesting work, Hearne's 'Journey from Hudson's Bay to the Northern Ocean'. When the Northern Lights, as the same writer informs us, vary their position in the air, they make a rustling and a crackling noise. This circ.u.mstance is alluded to in the first stanza of the following poem.--W. W. 1798.

[At Alfoxden, in 1798, where I read Hearne's 'Journey' with deep interest. It was composed for the volume of "Lyrical Ballads."--I. F.]

Cla.s.sed among the "Poems founded on the Affections."--Ed.

THE POEM

I Before I see another day, Oh let my body die away!

In sleep I heard the northern gleams; The stars, they were among my dreams; [1]

In rustling conflict through the skies, [2] 5 I heard, I saw the flashes drive, [3]

And yet they are upon my eyes, And yet I am alive; Before I see another day, Oh let my body die away! 10

II My fire is dead: it knew no pain; Yet is it dead, and I remain: All stiff with ice the ashes lie; And they are dead, and I will die.

When I was well, I wished to live, 15 For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire But they to me no joy can give, No pleasure now, and no desire.

Then here contented will I lie!

Alone, I cannot fear to die. 20

III Alas! ye [4] might have dragged me on Another day, a single one!

Too soon I yielded to despair; Why did ye listen to my prayer? [5]

When ye [6] were gone my limbs were stronger; 25 And oh, how grievously I rue, That, afterwards, a little longer, My friends, I did not follow you!

For strong and without pain I lay, Dear friends, when ye [7] were gone away. 30

IV My Child! they gave thee to another, A woman who was not thy mother.

When from my arms my Babe they took, On me how strangely did he look!

Through his whole body something ran, 35 A most strange working [8] did I see; --As if he strove to be a man, That he might pull the sledge for me: And then he stretched his arms, how wild!

Oh mercy! like a helpless child. [9] 40

V My little joy! my little pride!

In two days more I must have died.

Then do not weep and grieve for me; I feel I must have died with thee.

O wind, that o'er my head art flying 45 The way my friends their course did bend, I should not feel the pain of dying, Could I with thee a message send; Too soon, my friends, ye [10] went away; For I had many things to say. 50

VI I'll follow you across the snow; Ye [11] travel heavily and slow; In spite of all my weary pain I'll look upon your tents again.

--My fire is dead, and snowy white 55 The water which beside it stood: The wolf has come to me to-night, And he has stolen away my food.

For ever left alone am I; Then wherefore should I fear to die? 60

VII [12] Young as I am, my course is run, [13]

I shall not see another sun; I cannot lift my limbs to know If they have any life or no.

My poor forsaken Child, if I 65 For once could have thee close to me, With happy heart I then would die, And my last thought would happy be; [14]

But thou, dear Babe, art far away, Nor shall I see another day. [15] 70

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: