Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/299

BOOK X.] With all my resolutions, all my hopes,

A Poet only to myself, to men

Useless, and even, beloved Friend! a soul

To thee unknown!

Twice had the trees let fall

Their leaves, as often Winter had put on

His hoary crown, since I had seen the surge

Beat against Albion's shore, since ear of mine

Had caught the accents of my native speech

Upon our native country's sacred ground.

A patriot of the world, how could I glide

Into communion with her sylvan shades,

Erewhile my tuneful haunt? It pleased me more

To abide in the great City, where I found

The general air still busy with the stir

Of that first memorable onset made

By a strong levy of humanity

Upon the traffickers in Negro blood;

Effort which, though defeated, had recalled

To notice old forgotten principles,

And through the nation spread a novel heat

Of virtuous feeling. For myself, I own

That this particular strife had wanted power

To rivet my affections; nor did now

Its unsuccessful issue much excite