The Prelude is a book-length autobiographical poem by William Wordsworth. It focuses on Wordsworth's spiritual development, which is often spurred on in the poem by the surrounding natural environment. In this early passage from The Prelude, the speaker recalls a night when he, as a young boy, steals a boat and rows out into the middle of a lake. Eventually, the boy becomes scared of a huge mountain and rows back to shore. The image of the mountain haunts him from then on, planting the seeds for a more complex relationship with nature.
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1One summer evening (led by her) I found
2A little boat tied to a willow tree
3Within a rocky cove, its usual home.
4Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in
5Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth
6And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice
7Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on;
8Leaving behind her still, on either side,
9Small circles glittering idly in the moon,
10Until they melted all into one track
11Of sparkling light. But now, like one who rows,
12Proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point
13With an unswerving line, I fixed my view
14Upon the summit of a craggy ridge,
15The horizon's utmost boundary; far above
16Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.
17She was an elfin pinnace; lustily
18I dipped my oars into the silent lake,
19And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat
20Went heaving through the water like a swan;
21When, from behind that craggy steep till then
22The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge,
23As if with voluntary power instinct,
24Upreared its head. I struck and struck again,
25And growing still in stature the grim shape
26Towered up between me and the stars, and still,
27For so it seemed, with purpose of its own
28And measured motion like a living thing,
29Strode after me. With trembling oars I turned,
30And through the silent water stole my way
31Back to the covert of the willow tree;
32There in her mooring-place I left my bark,—
33And through the meadows homeward went, in grave
34And serious mood; but after I had seen
35That spectacle, for many days, my brain
36Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
37Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts
38There hung a darkness, call it solitude
39Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes
40Remained, no pleasant images of trees,
41Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields;
42But huge and mighty forms, that do not live
43Like living men, moved slowly through the mind
44By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.
1One summer evening (led by her) I found
2A little boat tied to a willow tree
3Within a rocky cove, its usual home.
4Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in
5Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth
6And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice
7Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on;
8Leaving behind her still, on either side,
9Small circles glittering idly in the moon,
10Until they melted all into one track
11Of sparkling light. But now, like one who rows,
12Proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point
13With an unswerving line, I fixed my view
14Upon the summit of a craggy ridge,
15The horizon's utmost boundary; far above
16Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.
17She was an elfin pinnace; lustily
18I dipped my oars into the silent lake,
19And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat
20Went heaving through the water like a swan;
21When, from behind that craggy steep till then
22The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge,
23As if with voluntary power instinct,
24Upreared its head. I struck and struck again,
25And growing still in stature the grim shape
26Towered up between me and the stars, and still,
27For so it seemed, with purpose of its own
28And measured motion like a living thing,
29Strode after me. With trembling oars I turned,
30And through the silent water stole my way
31Back to the covert of the willow tree;
32There in her mooring-place I left my bark,—
33And through the meadows homeward went, in grave
34And serious mood; but after I had seen
35That spectacle, for many days, my brain
36Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
37Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts
38There hung a darkness, call it solitude
39Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes
40Remained, no pleasant images of trees,
41Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields;
42But huge and mighty forms, that do not live
43Like living men, moved slowly through the mind
44By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.
One summer evening (led by her) I found
A little boat tied to a willow tree
Within a rocky cove, 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.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
The Prelude in Full — The entire 1850 text of The Prelude. The passage in this guide is from Book 1.
The 1799 Version of Boat Stealing — This excerpt from the Poetry Foundation contains the same passage as it was originally written in 1799, before more than 50 years of editing.
The Lakes District — Information about the Lakes District, where Wordsworth grew up and where this passage takes place.
Intimations of Immortality — In this poem, "Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood," Wordsworth reflects on spiritual intuitions he had as a child, and how growing up has affected those intuitions. Note its resonances with the Boat Stealing passage.
A Biography of Wordsworth — A detailed biography of Wordsworth, along with additional poems, from the Poetry Foundation.