FROM the dark chambers of dejection freed,
Spurning the unprofitable yoke of care,
Rise, GILLIES, rise; the gales of youth shall bear
Thy genius forward like a winged steed.
Though bold Bellerophon (so Jove decreed
In wrath) fell headlong from the fields of air,
Yet a rich guerdon waits on minds that dare,
If aught be in them of immortal seed,
And reason govern that audacious flight
Which heavenward they direct.--Then droop not thou,
Erroneously renewing a sad vow
In the low dell 'mid Roslin's faded grove:
A cheerful life is what the Muses love,
A soaring spirit is their prime delight.
More verses by William Wordsworth
- Composed Near Calais, On The Road Leading To Ardres, August 7, 1802
- Young England--What Is Then Become Of Old
- Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 X. Rob Roy’s Grave .
- Composed By The Sea-Side, Near Calais, August 1802
- Methought I Saw The Footsteps Of A Throne