The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth Volume Ii Part 120

This sonnet, originally ent.i.tled 'To a Friend, composed near Calais, on the Road leading to Ardres, August 7th, 1802', was addressed to Robert Jones, of Plas-yn-llan, near Ruthin, Denbighs.h.i.+re, a brother collegian at Cambridge, and afterwards a fellow of St. John's College, and inc.u.mbent of Soulderne, near Deddington, in Oxfords.h.i.+re. It was to him that Wordsworth dedicated his 'Descriptive Sketches', which record their wanderings together in Switzerland; and it is to the pedestrian tour, undertaken by the two friends in the long vacation of 1790, that he refers in the above sonnet. The character of Jones is sketched in the poem written in 1800, beginning:

'I marvel how Nature could ever find s.p.a.ce,' [A]

and his parsonage in Oxfords.h.i.+re is described in the sonnet--

'Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends, Is marked by no distinguishable line.'

The following note on Jones was appended to the edition of 1837:

"This excellent Person, one of my earliest and dearest friends, died in the year 1835. We were under-graduates together of the same year, at the same college; and companions in many a delightful ramble through his own romantic Country of North Wales. Much of the latter part of his life he pa.s.sed in comparative solitude; which I know was often cheered by remembrance of our youthful adventures, and of the beautiful regions which, at home and abroad, we had visited together.

Our long friends.h.i.+p was never subject to a moment's interruption,--and, while revising these volumes for the last time, I have been so often reminded of my loss, with a not unpleasing sadness, that I trust the Reader will excuse this pa.s.sing mention of a Man who well deserves from me something more than so brief a notice. Let me only add, that during the middle part of his life he resided many years (as Inc.u.mbent of the Living) at a Parsonage in Oxfords.h.i.+re, which is the subject of one of the 'Miscellaneous Sonnets.'"

Ed.

[Footnote A: See p. 208 ['A Character'].--Ed.]

CALAIS, AUGUST 15, 1802

Composed August 15, 1802.--Published 1807 [A]

One of the "Sonnets dedicated to Liberty"; re-named in 1845, "Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty."--Ed.

Festivals have I seen that were not names: This is young Buonaparte's natal day, And his is henceforth an established sway-- Consul for life. With wors.h.i.+p France proclaims Her approbation, and with pomps and games. 5 Heaven grant that other Cities may be gay!

Calais is not: and I have bent my way To the [1] sea-coast, noting that each man frames His business as he likes. Far other show My youth here witnessed, in a prouder time; [2] 10 The senselessness of joy was then sublime!

Happy is he, who, caring not for Pope, Consul, or King, can sound himself to know The destiny of Man, and live in hope.

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1:

1807.

... this ... 1803.]

[Variant 2:

1827.

... Another time That was, when I was here twelve years ago. 1803.

... long years ago: 1807.

... Far different time That was, which here I witnessed, long ago; 1820.]

FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT

[Footnote A: It had appeared in 'The Morning Post', February 26, 1803, under the initials W. L. D.--Ed.]

"IT IS A BEAUTEOUS EVENING, CALM AND FREE"

Composed August, 1802.--Published 1807

[This was composed on the beach near Calais, in the autumn of 1802.--I.

F.]

One of the "Miscellaneous Sonnets." In 1807 it was No. 19 of that series.--Ed.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, [1]

The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: [2] 5 Listen! [3] the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder--everlastingly.

Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, [A]

If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, [4] 10 Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And wors.h.i.+pp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, G.o.d being with thee when we know it not. [B]