It is the Spirit of Paradise
That prompts such work, a Spirit strong,
That gives to all the self-same bent
Where life is wise and innocent.

It is not only in tenderness but in dignity that the "wise and
innocent" are wont to be at one. Strong in tranquillity, they can
intervene amid great emotions with a master's voice, and project on
the storm of passion the clear light of their unchanging calm. And
thus it was that the study of Virgil, and especially of Virgil's
solemn picture of the Underworld, prompted in Wordsworth's mind the
most majestic of his poems, his one great utterance on heroic love.

He had as yet written little on any such topic as this. At Goslar he
had composed the poems on _Lucy_ to which allusion has already been
made. And after his happy marriage he had painted in one of the best
known of his poems the sweet transitions of wedded love, as it moves
on from the first shock and agitation of the encounter of
predestined souls through all tendernesses of intimate affection
into a pervading permanency and calm.

Scattered, moreover, throughout his poems are several passages in
which the passion is treated with similar force and truth. The poem
which begins "'Tis said that some have died for love" depicts the
enduring poignancy of bereavement with an "iron pathos" that is
almost too strong for art. And something of the same power of
clinging attachment is shown in the sonnet where the poet is stung
with the thought that "even for the least division of an hour" he
has taken pleasure in the life around him, without the accustomed
tacit reference to one who has passed away. There is a brighter