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Gentleman's Magazine 1850 part 2 p.461
and uniform; grand in their isolation, dignified in their
sorrows. They are not creatures of the market or the haven,
of the senate or the forum. His lovers do not whisper under
moonlit balconies; his heroes are not the heroes of war or
the tournament. To this exemption or defect in his mind may
be ascribed, in some measure, the tardy reception of his
earlier poetry. It was not merely that its unadorned diction
proved insipid to palates long vitiated by a conventional
phraseology. It was not merely that his occasional
negligence of structure seemed bald and shapeless to eyes
accustomed to the eleborate architecture of Pope and Gray.
But even the more imaginative and indulgent portion of his
audience perceived a want in one of the prime aliments of
poetic inspiration, at least in Christian literature.
Wordsworth therefore, in consequence of this want, was
enforced beyond any poet on record to create and discipline
the sympathies of his readers before he could receive his
merited "Plaudite." His Prelude reveals the secrets of his
idiosyncrasy, and in the growth of his mind and his early
circumstances, we discover many of the conditions which his
works require and presuppose in the readers of them.
We will now, under the guidance of Wordsworth's own
disclosures, proceed to trace the progress and maturity of
that imagination, which having at a very early period
banished from his verse all traditional and meretricious
ornament, replaced English poetry upon the solid and lofty
basis that it occupied under the dynasty commencing with
Chaucer and closing with Milton. We say from a very early,
but not the earliest period of his writings. For the
"Descriptive Sketches," which were afterwards condemned by
Wordsworth himself as vicious in their principles of
composition, were in the general character of their diction
more nearly allied to the style of Goldsmith, and the best
portions of Darwin, than to any subsequent productions of
the Lake school.
"His soul," he tells us, "had a fair seed time." Fairer
indeed had none for the mission it was hereafter to fulfil.
Chaucer in the centre of a spledid court and amid the
symbols of a gorgeous ritual; Spenser lapped in chivalrous
romance and familiar with the stately paladins and
ceremonial of the "western Gloriana;" Shakespere "full of
dealings with the world, yet shielded from its grosser
contacts by the saturnian orb of his compact imagination; or
Milton surrounded by scrolls and volumes of all time, and
nerved by the stern zealotry of Puritanism - had none of
them more befitting training for his vocation than the poet
of Helvellyn, Glaramara, and Borrowdale. The Derwent,
"fairest of rivers,"
Blended its murmurs with his nurse's song,
And from its alder shades and rocky falls,
And from its fords and shallows, sent a voice
That flowed along his dreams.
He was "ere he had told ten birthdays" a keen sportsman,
setting springes to catch woodcocks on the open heights,
bearing his rod and angle into the heart of solitary glens:
bold and fearless a rider as the erl king himself, and yet
he would beguile a long summer day as willingly as Walter
Scott himself in listening to the simple annals of the
dalesman or the legends of village schoolmasters and
garrulous dames. Bird-nesting is a part of most boys'
education. But few boys would seem to have run more imminent
risks, and none certainly have given a more graphic
description of them than is contained in the following
lines, -
Nor less when spring had warmed the cultured vale
Moved we as plunderers where the mother-bird
Had in high places built her lodge: though mean
Our object and inglorious, yet the end
Was not ignoble. Oh! when I have hung
Above the raven's nest, by knots of grass
And half-inch fissures in the slippery rock
But ill sustained, and almost (so it seemed)
Suspended by the blast that blew amain,
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