Wordsworth was born a lover of joy, not sensual,
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but spiritual. The first thing that happened to him, when he went out into the world, was that he went bankrupt of joy. The enthusiasm of his youth was dashed, the high hope of his spirit was quenched4. At the touch of reality his dreams dissolved. It seemed as though he were altogether beaten, a broken man. But with the gentle courage of his sister to sustain him, his indomitable spirit rose again, to renew the adventure of life. He did not evade5 the issue, by turning aside to seek for fame or wealth. His problem from first to last was the problem of joy,—inward, sincere, imperishable joy. How to recover it after life’s disappointments, how to deepen it amid life’s illusions, how to secure it through life’s trials, how to spread it among life’s confusions,—this was the problem that he faced. This was the wealth that he desired to possess, and to increase, and to diffuse,—the wealth
“Of joy in widest commonalty spread.”
None of the poets has been as clear as Wordsworth in the avowal6 that the immediate7 end of poetry is pleasure. “We have no sympathy,” said he, “but what is propagated by pleasure, ... wherever
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we sympathise with pain, it will be found that the sympathy is produced and carried on by subtle combinations with pleasure. We have no knowledge, that is no general principles drawn8 from the contemplation of particular facts, but what has been built up by pleasure, and exists in us by pleasure alone.” And again: “The end of Poetry is to produce excitement, in co-existence with an over-balance of pleasure.”
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
Painted by W. Boxall.
After an engraving9 by J. Bromley.
But it may be clearly read in his poetry that what he means by “pleasure” is really an inward, spiritual joy. It is such a joy, in its various forms, that charms him most as he sees it in the world. His gallery of human portraits contains many figures, but every one of them is presented in the light of joy,—the rising light of dawn, or the waning10 light of sunset. Lucy Gray and the little maid in We are Seven are childish shapes of joy. The Highland11 Girl is an embodiment of virginal gladness, and the poet cries
“Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace
Hath led me to this lovely place.
Joy have I had; and going hence
I bear away my recompence.”
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Wordsworth regards joy as an actual potency12 of vision:
“With an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the heart of things.”
Joy is indeed the master-word of his poetry. The dancing daffodils enrich his heart with joy.
“They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss13 of solitude14;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.”
The kitten playing with the fallen leaves charms him with pure merriment. The skylark’s song lifts him up into the clouds.
“There is madness about thee, and joy divine
In that song of thine.”
He turns from the nightingale, that creature of a “fiery heart,” to the Stock-dove:
“He sang of love, with quiet blending,
Slow to begin and never ending;
Of serious faith, and inward glee;
That was the song—the song for me.”
He thinks of love which grows to use
“Joy as her holiest language.”
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He speaks of life’s disenchantments and wearinesses as
“All that is at enmity with joy.”
When autumn closes around him, and the season makes him conscious that his leaf is sere15 and yellow on the bough16, he exclaims
“Yet will I temperately18 rejoice;
Wide is the range and free the choice
Of undiscordant themes;
Which haply kindred souls may prize
Not less than vernal ecstacies,
And passion’s feverish19 dreams.”
Temperate17 rejoicing,—that is the clearest note of Wordsworth’s poetry. Not an unrestrained gladness, for he can never escape from that deep, strange experience of his youth. Often, in thought, he
“Must hear Humanity in fields and groves20
Pipe solitary21 anguish22; or must hang
Brooding above the fierce confederate storm
Of sorrow, barricadoed evermore
Within the walls of cities.”
But even while he hears these sounds he will not be “downcast or forlorn.” He will find a deeper music
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to conquer these clashing discords23. He will learn, and teach, a hidden joy, strong to survive amid the sorrows of a world like this. He will not look for it in some far-off unrealized Utopia,
“But in the very world which is the world
Of all of us,—the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!”
To this quest of joy, to this proclamation of joy, he dedicates his life.
“By words
Which speak of nothing more than what we are
Would I arouse the sensual from their sleep
Of Death, and win the vacant and the vain
To noble raptures24.”
And herein he becomes a prophet to his age,—a prophet of the secret of joy, simple, universal, enduring,—the open secret.
The burden of Wordsworth’s prophecy of joy, as found in his poetry, is threefold. First, he declares with exultation25 that he has seen in Nature the evidence of a living spirit in vital correspondence with the spirit of man. Second, he expresses the deepest, tenderest feeling of the inestimable value of the humblest human life,—a feeling which
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through all its steadiness is yet strangely illumined by sudden gushes26 of penetration27 and pathos28. Third, he proclaims a lofty ideal of the liberty and greatness of man, consisting in obedience29 to law and fidelity30 to duty.
I am careful in choosing words to describe the manner of this threefold prophesying31, because I am anxious to distinguish it from didacticism. Not that Wordsworth is never didactic; for he is very often entirely32 and dreadfully so. But at such times he is not at his best; and it is in these long uninspired intervals33 that we must bear, as Walter Pater has said, “With patience the presence of an alien element in Wordsworth’s work, which never coalesced34 with what is really delightful35 in it, nor underwent his peculiar36 power.” Wordsworth’s genius as a poet did not always illuminate37 his industry as a writer. In the intervals he prosed terribly. There is a good deal of what Lowell calls “Dr. Wattsiness,” in some of his poems.
But the character of his best poems was strangely inspirational. They came to him like gifts, and he read them aloud as if wondering at their beauty.
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Through the protracted38 description of an excursion, or the careful explanation of a state of mind, he slowly plods39 on foot; but when he comes to the mount of vision, he mounts up with wings as an eagle. In the analysis of a character, in the narration40 of a simple story, he often drones, and sometimes stammers41; but when the flash of insight arrives, he sings. This is the difference between the pedagogue42 and the prophet: the pedagogue repeats a lesson learned by rote43, the prophet chants a truth revealed by vision.
点击收听单词发音
1 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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2 animating | |
v.使有生气( animate的现在分词 );驱动;使栩栩如生地动作;赋予…以生命 | |
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3 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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4 quenched | |
解(渴)( quench的过去式和过去分词 ); 终止(某事物); (用水)扑灭(火焰等); 将(热物体)放入水中急速冷却 | |
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5 evade | |
vt.逃避,回避;避开,躲避 | |
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6 avowal | |
n.公开宣称,坦白承认 | |
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7 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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8 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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9 engraving | |
n.版画;雕刻(作品);雕刻艺术;镌版术v.在(硬物)上雕刻(字,画等)( engrave的现在分词 );将某事物深深印在(记忆或头脑中) | |
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10 waning | |
adj.(月亮)渐亏的,逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 );(月)亏;变小;变暗淡 | |
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11 highland | |
n.(pl.)高地,山地 | |
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12 potency | |
n. 效力,潜能 | |
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13 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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14 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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15 sere | |
adj.干枯的;n.演替系列 | |
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16 bough | |
n.大树枝,主枝 | |
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17 temperate | |
adj.温和的,温带的,自我克制的,不过分的 | |
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18 temperately | |
adv.节制地,适度地 | |
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19 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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20 groves | |
树丛,小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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21 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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22 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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23 discords | |
不和(discord的复数形式) | |
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24 raptures | |
极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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25 exultation | |
n.狂喜,得意 | |
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26 gushes | |
n.涌出,迸发( gush的名词复数 )v.喷,涌( gush的第三人称单数 );滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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27 penetration | |
n.穿透,穿人,渗透 | |
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28 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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29 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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30 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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31 prophesying | |
v.预告,预言( prophesy的现在分词 ) | |
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32 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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33 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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34 coalesced | |
v.联合,合并( coalesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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36 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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37 illuminate | |
vt.照亮,照明;用灯光装饰;说明,阐释 | |
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38 protracted | |
adj.拖延的;延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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39 plods | |
v.沉重缓慢地走(路)( plod的第三人称单数 );努力从事;沉闷地苦干;缓慢进行(尤指艰难枯燥的工作) | |
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40 narration | |
n.讲述,叙述;故事;记叙体 | |
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41 stammers | |
n.口吃,结巴( stammer的名词复数 )v.结巴地说出( stammer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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42 pedagogue | |
n.教师 | |
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43 rote | |
n.死记硬背,生搬硬套 | |
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