Ode to Duty

Source

Source: Project Gutenberg #8774 / #8824 Source URL: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8774 Public domain basis: Wordsworth, Poems, in Two Volumes (London: Longman, 1807), PG #8774/#8824. US public domain. Coverage: Complete individual poem extracted from parent edition poems-in-two-volumes at bytes 37313-45866; checksum 7340ced34ba0a86c5f7bc9f759cbccedb9bcec08e69e79c1b016750b14a75770.

# Ode to Duty

Ode to Duty

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Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a Light to guide, a Rod To check the erring, and reprove; Thou who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe; From vain temptations dost set free; From strife and from despair; a glorious ministry.

There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot; Who do thy work, and know it not: May joy be theirs while life shall last! And Thou, if they should totter, teach them to stand fast!

Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. And bless'd are they who in the main This faith, even now, do entertain: Live in the spirit of this creed; Yet find that other strength, according to their need.

I, loving freedom, and untried; No sport of every random gust, Yet being to myself a guide, Too blindly have reposed my trust: Resolved that nothing e'er should press Upon my present happiness, I shoved unwelcome tasks away; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.

Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy controul; But in the quietness of thought: Me this uncharter'd freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose which ever is the same.

Yet not the less would I throughout Still act according to the voice Of my own wish; and feel past doubt That my submissiveness was choice: Not seeking in the school of pride For "precepts over dignified," Denial and restraint I prize No farther than they breed a second Will more wise.

Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace; Nor know we any thing so fair As is the smile upon thy face; Flowers laugh before thee on their beds; And Fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; And the most ancient Heavens through Thee are fresh and strong.

To humbler functions, awful Power! I call thee: I myself commend Unto thy guidance from this hour; Oh! let my weakness have an end! Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give; And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live!

POEMS COMPOSED DURING A TOUR, CHIEFLY ON FOOT.

1. BEGGARS.

She had a tall Man's height, or more; No bonnet screen'd her from the heat; A long drab-colour'd Cloak she wore, A Mantle reaching to her feet: What other dress she had I could not know; Only she wore a Cap that was as white as snow.

In all my walks, through field or town, Such Figure had I never seen: Her face was of Egyptian brown: Fit person was she for a Queen, To head those ancient Amazonian files: Or ruling Bandit's Wife, among the Grecian Isles.

Before me begging did she stand, Pouring out sorrows like a sea; Grief after grief:--on English Land Such woes I knew could never be; And yet a boon I gave her; for the Creature Was beautiful to see; a Weed of glorious feature!

I left her, and pursued my way; And soon before me did espy A pair of little Boys at play, Chasing a crimson butterfly; The Taller follow'd with his hat in hand, Wreath'd round with yellow flow'rs, the gayest of the land.

The Other wore a rimless crown, With leaves of laurel stuck about: And they both follow'd up and down, Each whooping with a merry shout; Two Brothers seem'd they, eight and ten years old; And like that Woman's face as gold is like to gold.

They bolted on me thus, and lo! Each ready with a plaintive whine; Said I, "Not half an hour ago Your Mother has had alms of mine." "That cannot be," one answer'd, "She is dead." "Nay but I gave her pence, and she will buy you bread."

"She has been dead, Sir, many a day." "Sweet Boys, you're telling me a lie"; "It was your Mother, as I say--" And in the twinkling of an eye, "Come, come!" cried one; and, without more ado, Off to some other play they both together flew.

2. TO A SKY-LARK.

Up with me! up with me into the clouds! For thy song, Lark, is strong; Up with me, up with me into the clouds! Singing, singing, With all the heav'ns about thee ringing, Lift me, guide me, till I find That spot which seems so to thy mind!

I have walk'd through wildernesses dreary, And today my heart is weary; Had I now the soul of a Faery, Up to thee would I fly. There is madness about thee, and joy divine In that song of thine; Up with me, up with me, high and high, To thy banqueting-place in the sky! Joyous as Morning, Thou art laughing and scorning; Thou hast a nest, for thy love and thy rest: And, though little troubled with sloth, Drunken Lark! thou would'st be loth To be such a Traveller as I. Happy, happy Liver! With a soul as strong as a mountain River, Pouring out praise to the Almighty Giver, Joy and jollity be with us both! Hearing thee, or else some other, As merry a Brother, I on the earth will go plodding on, By myself, chearfully, till the day is done.

3. With how sad Steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the Sky

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"With how sad steps, O Moon thou climb'st the sky. How silently, and with how wan a face!" [2] Where art thou? Thou whom I have seen on high Running among the clouds a Wood-nymph's race? Unhappy Nuns, whose common breath's a sigh Which they would stifle, move at such a pace! The Northern Wind, to call thee to the chace, Must blow tonight his bugle horn. Had I The power of Merlin, Goddess! this should be And all the Stars, now shrouded up in heaven, Should sally forth to keep thee company. What strife would then be yours, fair Creatures, driv'n Now up, now down, and sparkling in your glee! But, Cynthia, should to Thee the palm be giv'n, Queen both for beauty and for majesty.

[Footnote 2: From a sonnet of Sir Philip Sydney.]

4. ALICE FELL.

The Post-boy drove with fierce career, For threat'ning clouds the moon had drown'd; When suddenly I seem'd to hear A moan, a lamentable sound.

As if the wind blew many ways I heard the sound, and more and more: It seem'd to follow with the Chaise, And still I heard it as before.

At length I to the Boy call'd out, He stopp'd his horses at the word; But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout, Nor aught else like it could be heard.

The Boy then smack'd his whip, and fast The horses scamper'd through the rain; And soon I heard upon the blast The voice, and bade him halt again.

Said I, alighting on the ground, "What can it be, this piteous moan?" And there a little Girl I found, Sitting behind the Chaise, alone.

"My Cloak!" the word was last and first, And loud and bitterly she wept, As if her very heart would burst; And down from off the Chaise she leapt.

"What ails you, Child?" she sobb'd, "Look here!" I saw it in the wheel entangled, A weather beaten Rag as e'er From any garden scare-crow dangled.

'Twas twisted betwixt nave and spoke; Her help she lent, and with good heed Together we released the Cloak; A wretched, wretched rag indeed!

"And whither are you going, Child, To night along these lonesome ways?" "To Durham" answer'd she half wild-- "Then come with me into the chaise."

She sate like one past all relief; Sob after sob she forth did send In wretchedness, as if her grief Could never, never, have an end.

"My Child, in Durham do you dwell?" She check'd herself in her distress, And said, "My name is Alice Fell; I'm fatherless and motherless."

"And I to Durham, Sir, belong." And then, as if the thought would choke Her very heart, her grief grew strong; And all was for her tatter'd Cloak.

The chaise drove on; our journey's end Was nigh; and, sitting by my side, As if she'd lost her only friend She wept, nor would be pacified.

Up to the Tavern-door we post; Of Alice and her grief I told; And I gave money to the Host, To buy a new Cloak for the old.

"And let it be of duffil grey, As warm a cloak as man can sell!" Proud Creature was she the next day, The little Orphan, Alice Fell!

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