KELOMPOK 13
Fikria Muzakki Aminy – 20131111035
Destawati Cardini – 20131111005
William
Wordsworth from The Prolude, or, Growth of a Poet’s Mind (from book 1)
The Prelude or, Growth of a Poet's Mind; An
Autobiographical Poem is an autobiographical conversation
poem in blank verse by
the English poet William Wordsworth. Intended as the
introduction to the more philosophical Recluse, which Wordsworth never
finished, The Prelude is an extremely personal and revealing work on
the details of Wordsworth's life. Wordsworth began The Prelude in
1798 at the age of 28 and continued to work on it throughout his life. He never
gave it a title; he called it the "Poem (title not yet fixed upon)
to Coleridge" and in his letters to Dorothy Wordsworth referred to it as
"the poem on the growth of my own mind". The poem was unknown to the
general public until published three months after Wordsworth's death in 1850,
its final name given to it by his widow Mary.The Prelude is widely
regarded as Wordsworth's greatest work. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Prelude). The poem
had six stanzas (160 lines) that we will analyze below:
Fair
seed-time had my soul, and I grew up
Fostered
alike by beauty and by fear:
Much
favoured in my birth-place, and no less
In that
beloved Vale to which erelong
We were transplanted;—there
were we let loose
For sports
of wider range. Ere I had told
Ten
birth-days, when among the mountain slopes
Frost, and
the breath of frosty wind, had snapped
The last
autumnal crocus, ’twas my joy
With store
of springes o’er my shoulder hung
To range
the open heights where woodcocks run
Along the
smooth green turf. Through half the night,
Scudding
away from snare to snare, I plied
That
anxious visitation;—moon and stars
Were
shining o’er my head. I was alone,
And seemed
to be a trouble to the peace
That dwelt
among them. Sometimes it befell
In these
night wanderings, that a strong desire
O’erpowered
my better reason, and the bird
Which was
the captive of another’s toil
Became my
prey; and when the deed was done
I heard
among the solitary hills
Low
breathings coming after me, and sounds
Of
undistinguishable motion, steps
Almost as
silent as the turf they trod.
In
this first stanza, we found that the journey of William Wordsworth was very
difficult. In the line “I was alone, And
seemed to be a trouble to the peace”. There is social aspect from this
poem, that how difficult that he face for troubles. “In
these night wanderings, that a strong desire...O’erpowered my better reason,
and the bird...Which was the captive of another’s toil...Became my prey”
but, he tried to survive as well as possible althought many problems came.
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,
Shouldering
the naked crag, oh, at that time
While on
the perilous ridge I hung alone,
With what
strange utterance did the loud dry wind
Blow
through my ear! the sky seemed not a sky
Of
earth—and with what motion moved the clouds!
And
second stanza explained about the struggle of his life. That the weather was
change and day by day he would pass the big trouble of his life. “the sky seemed not a sky...Of earth—and with
what motion moved the clouds!” it is his imagination about the bad of world
due to his bad life that he faced.
Dust as we
are, the immortal spirit grows
Like
harmony in music; there is a dark
Inscrutable
workmanship that reconciles
Discordant
elements, makes them cling together
In one
society. How strange, that all
The
terrors, pains, and early miseries,
Regrets,
vexations, lassitudes interfused
Within my
mind, should e’er have borne a part,
And that a
needful part, in making up
The calm
existence that is mine when I
Am worthy
of myself! Praise to the end!
Thanks to
the means which Nature deigned to employ;
Whether her
fearless visitings, or those
That came
with soft alarm, like hurtless light
Opening the
peaceful clouds; or she would use
Severer
interventions, ministry
More
palpable, as best might suit her aim.
In the third stanza, that told us everything will be
change with the united of power. The power of togetherness as human to reach
the bright victory. In this stanza, he wrote “the immortal spirit grows...Like harmony in music; there is a
dark...Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles”.William Wordsworh believes
that spirit would grow up and increase. There is some dark in life and he
belives that the magic and amazing thing would come after pain.
One summer evening (led by her) I
found
A little boat tied to a willow tree
Within a rocky cave, its usual
home.
Straight I unloosed her chain, and
stepping in
Pushed from the shore. It was an
act of stealth
And troubled pleasure, nor without
the voice
Of mountain-echoes did my boat move
on;
Leaving behind her still, on either
side,
Small circles glittering idly in
the moon,
Until they melted all into one
track
Of sparkling light. But now, like
one who rows,
Proud of his skill, to reach a
chosen point
With an unswerving line, I fixed my
view
Upon the summit of a craggy ridge,
The horizon’s utmost boundary; far
above
Was nothing but the stars and the
grey sky.
She was an elfin pinnace; lustily
I dipped my oars into the silent
lake,
And, as I rose upon the stroke, my
boat
Went heaving through the water like
a swan;
When, from behind that craggy steep
till then
The horizon’s bound, a huge peak,
black and huge,
As if with voluntary power
instinct,
Upreared its head. I struck and
struck again,
And growing still in stature the
grim shape
Towered up between me and the
stars, and still,
For so it seemed, with purpose of
its own
And measured motion like a living
thing,
Strode after me. With trembling
oars I turned,
And through the silent water stole
my way
Back to the covert of the willow
tree;
There in her mooring-place I left
my bark,—
And through the meadows homeward
went, in grave
And serious mood; but after I had
seen
That spectacle, for many days, my
brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined
sense
Of unknown modes of being; o’er my
thoughts
There hung a darkness, call it
solitude
Or blank desertion. No familiar
shapes
Remained, no pleasant images of
trees,
Of sea or sky, no colours of green
fields;
But huge and mighty forms, that do
not live
Like living men, moved slowly
through the mind
By day, and were a trouble to my
dreams.
In fourth stanza, we found the strength of Willam Wordswort. He is very
confident to reach the goal, what he wants in this peace of poem “With
an unswerving line, I fixed my view....Upon the summit of a craggy ridge”.
He tried and full of effort to achieve his dream for happiness although
difficult.
Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!
Thou Soul that art the eternity of
thought
. givest to forms and images a
breath
And everlasting motion, not in vain
By day or star-light thus from my
first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine
for me
The passions that build up our
human soul;
Not with the mean and vulgar works
of man,
But with high objects, with
enduring things—
With life and nature—purifying thus
The elements of feeling and of
thought,
And sanctifying, by such
discipline,
Both pain and fear, until we recognise
A grandeur in the beatings of the
heart.
Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed
to me
With stinted kindness. In November
days,
When vapours rolling down the
valley made
A lonely scene more lonesome, among
woods,
At noon and ‘mid the calm of summer
nights,
When, by the margin of the
trembling lake,
Beneath the gloomy hills homeward I
went
In solitude, such intercourse was
mine;
Mine was it in the fields both day
and night,
And by the waters, all the summer
long.
In this satanza explained that a study of
sanctification which describes the nature purify the whole feeling with
feelings of fear and pain that we are aware of the existence of grandeur in the
wisdom and spirit of the universe. The elements of feeling and of thought, and
santifying by such dicipline. Both pain and fear, until we recognise.
And in the frosty season, when the sun
Was set, and visible for many a
mile
The cottage windows blazed through
twilight gloom,
I heeded not their summons: happy
time
It was indeed for all of us—for me
It was a time of rapture! Clear and
loud
The village clock tolled six,—I
wheeled about,
Proud and exulting like an untired
horse
That cares not for his home. All
shod with steel,
We hissed along the polished ice in
games
Confederate, imitative of the chase
And woodland pleasures,—the
resounding horn,
The pack loud chiming, and the
hunted hare.
So through the darkness and the
cold we flew,
And not a voice was idle; with the
din
Smitten, the precipices rang aloud;
The leafless trees and every icy
crag
Tinkled like iron; while far
distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound
Of melancholy not unnoticed, while
the stars
Eastward were sparkling clear, and
in the west
The orange sky of evening died
away.
Not seldom from the uproar I
retired
Into a silent bay, or sportively
Glanced sideway, leaving the
tumultuous throng,
To cut across the reflex of a star
That fled, and, flying still before
me, gleamed
Upon the glassy plain; and
oftentimes,
When we had given our bodies to the
wind,
And all the shadowy banks on either
side
Came sweeping through the darkness,
spinning still
The rapid line of motion, then at
once
Have I, reclining back upon my
heels,
Stopped short; yet still the
solitary cliffs
Wheeled by me—even as if the earth
had rolled
With visible motion her diurnal
round!
Behind me did they stretch in
solemn train,
Feebler and feebler, and I stood
and watched
Till all was tranquil as a
dreamless sleep.
In this last stanza tells of someone who is in a state
that collapsed and at that moment someone was not able to defend his life and
in the end he wanted a death that would make life quieter without having to
experience the dream will not be realized in real life. Not seldom from the
uproar I retired. He feels tired with his problem and he doesn’t keep with the
condition.
Then, this poem made by William Wordsworth is about his life
experiences. it is there is a relationship with a landscape that bring a gift
of something very soft which can calm the heart of a problem that Wordsworth
wrote on the content of the opening of this poem. Complicated, but it signifies
a power which is more disturbing, which at that time Wordsworth reminded by an
incident is very large and painful that his presence is a big warning for him.
This poem is one of the efforts or how God protects his people. A poetic call
which is an effort to create and deliver a new genre. So, it talks about social life.
REFERENCES:
British Library, The Prolude (Book 1), http://www.bl.uk/works/the-prelude-book
i#sthash.X40vIoLW.dpuf, (Accessed December 8, 2015)
