 |
II
Eight springs have flown, since last I lay On sea-ward Quantock's heathy hills, Where quiet sounds from hidden rills Float here and there, like things astray, And high o'er head the sky-lark shrills. 10
III
No voice as yet had made the air Be music with your name; yet why That asking look? that yearning sigh? That sense of promise every where? Beloved! flew your spirit by? 15
IV
As when a mother doth explore The rose-mark on her long-lost child, I met, I loved you, maiden mild! As whom I long had loved before— So deeply had I been beguiled. 20
V
You stood before me like a thought, A dream remembered in a dream. But when those meek eyes first did seem To tell me, Love within you wrought— O Greta, dear domestic stream! 25
VI
Has not, since then, Love's prompture deep, Has not Love's whisper evermore Been ceaseless, as thy gentle roar? Sole voice, when other voices sleep, Dear under-song in clamor's hour. 30
1807.
FOOTNOTES:
[409:2] First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. It is impossible to fix the date of composition, though internal evidence points to July, 1807, when Coleridge revisited Stowey after a long absence. The first stanza, a variant of the preceding fragment, is introduced into a prose fancy, entitled 'Questions and Answers in the Court of Love', of uncertain date, but perhaps written at Malta in 1805 (vide Appendices of this edition). A first draft of stanzas 1-4 (vide supra) is included in the collection of metrical experiments and metrical schemes, modelled on German and Italian originals, which seems to have been begun in 1801, with a view to a projected 'Essay on Metre'. Stanzas 5, 6 are not contemporary with stanzas 1-4, and, perhaps, date from 1814, 1815, when Sibylline Leaves were being prepared for the press.
TO TWO SISTERS[410:1]
[MARY MORGAN AND CHARLOTTE BRENT]
A WANDERER'S FAREWELL
To know, to esteem, to love,—and then to part— Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart; Alas for some abiding-place of love, O'er which my spirit, like the mother dove, Might brood with warming wings! O fair! O kind! 5 Sisters in blood, yet each with each intwined More close by sisterhood of heart and mind! Me disinherited in form and face By nature, and mishap of outward grace; Who, soul and body, through one guiltless fault 10 Waste daily with the poison of sad thought, Me did you soothe, when solace hoped I none! And as on unthaw'd ice the winter sun, Though stern the frost, though brief the genial day, You bless my heart with many a cheerful ray; 15 For gratitude suspends the heart's despair, Reflecting bright though cold your image there. Nay more! its music by some sweeter strain Makes us live o'er our happiest hours again, Hope re-appearing dim in memory's guise— 20 Even thus did you call up before mine eyes Two dear, dear Sisters, prized all price above, Sisters, like you, with more than sisters' love; So like you they, and so in you were seen Their relative statures, tempers, looks, and mien, 25 That oft, dear ladies! you have been to me At once a vision and reality. Sight seem'd a sort of memory, and amaze Mingled a trouble with affection's gaze.
Oft to my eager soul I whisper blame, 30 A Stranger bid it feel the Stranger's shame— My eager soul, impatient of the name, No strangeness owns, no Stranger's form descries: The chidden heart spreads trembling on the eyes. First-seen I gazed, as I would look you thro'! 35 My best-beloved regain'd their youth in you,— And still I ask, though now familiar grown, Are you for their sakes dear, or for your own? O doubly dear! may Quiet with you dwell!
In Grief I love you, yet I love you well! 40 Hope long is dead to me! an orphan's tear Love wept despairing o'er his nurse's bier. Yet still she flutters o'er her grave's green slope: For Love's despair is but the ghost of Hope!
Sweet Sisters! were you placed around one hearth 45 With those, your other selves in shape and worth, Far rather would I sit in solitude, Fond recollections all my fond heart's food, And dream of you, sweet Sisters! (ah! not mine!) And only dream of you (ah! dream and pine!) 50 Than boast the presence and partake the pride, And shine in the eye, of all the world beside.
1807.
FOOTNOTES:
[410:1] First published in The Courier, December 10, 1807, with the signature SIESTI. First collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80. The following abbreviated and altered version was included in P. W., 1834, 1844, and 1852, with the heading 'On taking Leave of —— 1817':—
To know, to esteem, to love—and then to part, Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart! O for some dear abiding-place of Love, O'er which my spirit, like the mother dove Might brood with warming wings!—O fair as kind, Were but one sisterhood with you combined, (Your very image they in shape and mind) Far rather would I sit in solitude, The forms of memory all my mental food, And dream of you, sweet sisters, (ah, not mine!) And only dream of you (ah dream and pine!) Than have the presence, and partake the pride, And shine in the eye of all the world beside!
PSYCHE[412:1]
The butterfly the ancient Grecians made The soul's fair emblem, and its only name—[412:2] But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade Of mortal life!—For in this earthly frame Ours is the reptile's lot, much toil, much blame, 5 Manifold motions making little speed, And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed.
1808.
FOOTNOTES:
[412:1] First published with a prefatory note:—'The fact that in Greek Psyche is the common name for the soul, and the butterfly, is thus alluded to in the following stanzas from an unpublished poem of the Author', in the Biographia Literaria, 1817, i. 82, n.: included (as No. II of 'Three Scraps') in Amulet, 1833: Lit. Rem., 1836, i. 53. First collected in 1844. In Lit. Rem. and 1844 the poem is dated 1808.
[412:2] Psyche means both Butterfly and Soul. Amulet, 1833.
In some instances the Symbolic and Onomastic are united as in Psyche = Anima et papilio. MS. S. T. C. (Hence the word 'name' was italicised in the MS.)
LINENOTES:
Title] The Butterfly Amulet, 1833, 1877-81, 1893.
[4] Of earthly life. For in this fleshly frame MS. S. T. C.: Of earthly life! For, in this mortal frame Amulet, 1833, 1893.
A TOMBLESS EPITAPH[413:1]
'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane! (So call him, for so mingling blame with praise, And smiles with anxious looks, his earliest friends, Masking his birth-name, wont to character His wild-wood fancy and impetuous zeal,) 5 'Tis true that, passionate for ancient truths, And honouring with religious love the Great Of elder times, he hated to excess, With an unquiet and intolerant scorn, The hollow Puppets of a hollow Age, 10 Ever idolatrous, and changing ever Its worthless Idols! Learning, Power, and Time, (Too much of all) thus wasting in vain war Of fervid colloquy. Sickness, 'tis true, Whole years of weary days, besieged him close, 15 Even to the gates and inlets of his life! But it is true, no less, that strenuous, firm, And with a natural gladness, he maintained The citadel unconquered, and in joy Was strong to follow the delightful Muse. 20 For not a hidden path, that to the shades Of the beloved Parnassian forest leads, Lurked undiscovered by him; not a rill There issues from the fount of Hippocrene, But he had traced it upward to its source, 25 Through open glade, dark glen, and secret dell, Knew the gay wild flowers on its banks, and culled Its med'cinable herbs. Yea, oft alone, Piercing the long-neglected holy cave, The haunt obscure of old Philosophy, 30 He bade with lifted torch its starry walls Sparkle, as erst they sparkled to the flame Of odorous lamps tended by Saint and Sage. O framed for calmer times and nobler hearts! O studious Poet, eloquent for truth! 35 Philosopher! contemning wealth and death, Yet docile, childlike, full of Life and Love! Here, rather than on monumental stone, This record of thy worth thy Friend inscribes, Thoughtful, with quiet tears upon his cheek. 40
? 1809.
FOOTNOTES:
[413:1] First published in The Friend, No. XIV, November 23, 1809. There is no title or heading to the poem, which occupies the first page of the number, but a footnote is appended:—'Imitated, though in the movements rather than the thoughts, from the vii{th}, of Gli Epitafi of Chiabrera:
Fu ver, che Ambrosio Salinero a torto Si pose in pena d'odiose liti,' &c.
Included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834. Sir Satyrane, 'A Satyres son yborne in forrest wylde' (Spenser's Faery Queene, Bk. I, C. vi, l. 21) rescues Una from the violence of Sarazin. Coleridge may have regarded Satyrane as the anonymn of Luther. Idoloclast, as he explains in the preface to 'Satyrane's Letters', is a 'breaker of idols'.
LINENOTES:
[10] a] an Friend, 1809, S. L. 1828, 1829.
[16] inlets] outlets Friend, 1809.
[37] Life] light The Friend, 1809.
FOR A MARKET-CLOCK[414:1]
(IMPROMPTU)
What now, O Man! thou dost or mean'st to do Will help to give thee peace, or make thee rue, When hovering o'er the Dot this hand shall tell The moment that secures thee Heaven or Hell!
1809.
FOOTNOTES:
[414:1] Sent in a letter to T. Poole, October 9, 1809, and transferred to one of Coleridge's Notebooks with the heading 'Inscription proposed on a Clock in a market place': included in 'Omniana' of 1809-16 (Literary Remains, 1836, i. 347) with the erroneous title 'Inscription on a Clock in Cheapside'. First collected in 1893.
What now thou do'st, or art about to do, Will help to give thee peace, or make thee rue; When hov'ring o'er the line this hand will tell The last dread moment—'twill be heaven or hell.
Read for the last two lines:—
When wav'ring o'er the dot this hand shall tell The moment that secures thee Heaven or Hell. MS. Lit. Rem.
THE MADMAN AND THE LETHARGIST[414:2]
AN EXAMPLE
Quoth Dick to me, as once at College We argued on the use of knowledge;— 'In old King Olim's reign, I've read, There lay two patients in one bed. The one in fat lethargic trance, 5 Lay wan and motionless as lead: The other, (like the Folks in France), Possess'd a different disposition— In short, the plain truth to confess, The man was madder than Mad Bess! 10 But both diseases, none disputed, Were unmedicinably rooted; Yet, so it chanc'd, by Heaven's permission, Each prov'd the other's true physician.
'Fighting with a ghostly stare 15 Troops of Despots in the air, Obstreperously Jacobinical, The madman froth'd, and foam'd, and roar'd: The other, snoring octaves cynical, Like good John Bull, in posture clinical, 20 Seem'd living only when he snor'd. The Citizen enraged to see This fat Insensibility, Or, tir'd with solitary labour, Determin'd to convert his neighbour; 25 So up he sprang and to 't he fell, Like devil piping hot from hell, With indefatigable fist Belabr'ing the poor Lethargist; Till his own limbs were stiff and sore, 30 And sweat-drops roll'd from every pore:— Yet, still, with flying fingers fleet, Duly accompanied by feet, With some short intervals of biting, He executes the self-same strain, 35 Till the Slumberer woke for pain, And half-prepared himself for fighting— That moment that his mad Colleague Sunk down and slept thro' pure fatigue. So both were cur'd—and this example 40 Gives demonstration full and ample— That Chance may bring a thing to bear, Where Art sits down in blank despair.'
'That's true enough, Dick,' answer'd I, 'But as for the Example, 'tis a lie.' 45
? 1809
FOOTNOTES:
[414:2] Now published for the first time from one of Coleridge's Notebooks. The use of the party catchword 'Citizen' and the allusion to 'Folks in France' would suggest 1796-7 as a probable date, but the point or interpretation of the 'Example' was certainly in Coleridge's mind when he put together the first number of The Friend, published June 1, 1809:—'Though all men are in error, they are not all in the same error, nor at the same time . . . each therefore may possibly heal the other . . . even as two or more physicians, all diseased in their general health, yet under the immediate action of the disease on different days, may remove or alleviate the complaints of each other.'
THE VISIONARY HOPE[416:1]
Sad lot, to have no Hope! Though lowly kneeling He fain would frame a prayer within his breast, Would fain entreat for some sweet breath of healing, That his sick body might have ease and rest; He strove in vain! the dull sighs from his chest 5 Against his will the stifling load revealing, Though Nature forced; though like some captive guest, Some royal prisoner at his conqueror's feast, An alien's restless mood but half concealing, The sternness on his gentle brow confessed, 10 Sickness within and miserable feeling: Though obscure pangs made curses of his dreams, And dreaded sleep, each night repelled in vain, Each night was scattered by its own loud screams: Yet never could his heart command, though fain, 15 One deep full wish to be no more in pain.
That Hope, which was his inward bliss and boast, Which waned and died, yet ever near him stood, Though changed in nature, wander where he would— For Love's Despair is but Hope's pining Ghost! 20 For this one hope he makes his hourly moan, He wishes and can wish for this alone! Pierced, as with light from Heaven, before its gleams (So the love-stricken visionary deems) Disease would vanish, like a summer shower, 25 Whose dews fling sunshine from the noon-tide bower! Or let it stay! yet this one Hope should give Such strength that he would bless his pains and live.
? 1810.
FOOTNOTES:
[416:1] First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
[22] can] can S. L. 1828, 1829.
EPITAPH ON AN INFANT[417:1]
Its balmy lips the infant blest Relaxing from its Mother's breast, How sweet it heaves the happy sigh Of innocent satiety!
And such my Infant's latest sigh! 5 Oh tell, rude stone! the passer by, That here the pretty babe doth lie, Death sang to sleep with Lullaby.
1811.
FOOTNOTES:
[417:1] First published, with the signature 'Aphilos,' in the Courier, Wednesday, March 20, 1811: included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, and in 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
[1] balmy] milky Courier, 1811.
[5] Infant's] darling's Courier, 1811.
[6] Tell simple stone Courier, 1811.
[7] the] a Courier, 1811.
THE VIRGIN'S CRADLE-HYMN[417:2]
COPIED FROM A PRINT OF THE VIRGIN IN A ROMAN CATHOLIC VILLAGE IN GERMANY
Dormi, Jesu! Mater ridet Quae tam dulcem somnum videt, Dormi, Jesu! blandule! Si non dormis, Mater plorat, Inter fila cantans orat, 5 Blande, veni, somnule.
ENGLISH[417:3]
Sleep, sweet babe! my cares beguiling: Mother sits beside thee smiling; Sleep, my darling, tenderly! If thou sleep not, mother mourneth, 10 Singing as her wheel she turneth: Come, soft slumber, balmily!
1811.
FOOTNOTES:
[417:2] First published as from 'A Correspondent in Germany' in the Morning Post, December 26, 1801.
[417:3] First published with the Latin in the Courier, August 30, 1811, with the following introduction:—'About thirteen years ago or more, travelling through the middle parts of Germany I saw a little print of the Virgin and Child in the small public house of a Catholic Village, with the following beautiful Latin lines under it, which I transcribed. They may be easily adapted to the air of the famous Sicilian Hymn, Adeste fideles, laeti triumphantes, by the omission of a few notes.' First collected in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title—In a Roman Catholic] In a Catholic S. L., 1828, 1829.
TO A LADY[418:1]
OFFENDED BY A SPORTIVE OBSERVATION THAT WOMEN HAVE NO SOULS
Nay, dearest Anna! why so grave? I said, you had no soul, 'tis true! For what you are, you cannot have: 'Tis I, that have one since I first had you!
? 1811.
FOOTNOTES:
[418:1] First published in Omniana (1812), i. 238; 'as a playful illustration of the distinction between To have and to be.' First collected in 1828: included in 1829 and 1834.
LINENOTES:
To a Lady, &c.—In line 3 'are', 'have', and in line 4 'have', 'you', are italicized in all editions except 1834.
REASON FOR LOVE'S BLINDNESS[418:2]
I have heard of reasons manifold Why Love must needs be blind, But this the best of all I hold— His eyes are in his mind.
What outward form and feature are 5 He guesseth but in part; But that within is good and fair He seeth with the heart.
? 1811.
FOOTNOTES:
[418:2] First published in 1828: included in 1829 and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] In 1828, 1829, 1834 these stanzas are printed without a title, but are divided by a space from Lines to a Lady. The title appears first in 1893.
THE SUICIDE'S ARGUMENT[419:1]
Ere the birth of my life, if I wished it or no, No question was asked me—it could not be so! If the life was the question, a thing sent to try, And to live on be Yes; what can No be? to die.
NATURE'S ANSWER
Is't returned, as 'twas sent? Is't no worse for the wear? 5 Think first, what you are! Call to mind what you were! I gave you innocence, I gave you hope, Gave health, and genius, and an ample scope. Return you me guilt, lethargy, despair? Make out the invent'ry; inspect, compare! 10 Then die—if die you dare!
1811.
FOOTNOTES:
[419:1] First published in 1828: included in 1829 and 1884. In a Notebook of (?) 1811 these lines are preceded by the following couplet:—
Complained of, complaining, there shov'd and here shoving, Every one blaming me, ne'er a one loving.
LINENOTES:
[4] Yes] YES 1828, 1829.
[6] are] ARE 1828, 1829. were] WERE 1828, 1829.
TIME, REAL AND IMAGINARY[419:2]
AN ALLEGORY
On the wide level of a mountain's head, (I knew not where, but 'twas some faery place) Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails out-spread, Two lovely children run an endless race, A sister and a brother! This far outstripp'd the other; Yet ever runs she with reverted face. And looks and listens for the boy behind: For he, alas! is blind! O'er rough and smooth with even step he passed, 10 And knows not whether he be first or last.
? 1812.
FOOTNOTES:
[419:2] First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, in the preliminary matter, p. v: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. In the 'Preface' to Sibylline Leaves, p. iii, an apology is offered for its insertion on the plea that it was a 'school boy poem' added 'at the request of the friends of my youth'. The title is explained as follows:—'By imaginary Time, I meant the state of a school boy's mind when on his return to school he projects his being in his day dreams, and lives in his next holidays, six months hence; and this I contrasted with real Time.' In a Notebook of (?) 1811 there is an attempt to analyse and illustrate the 'sense of Time', which appears to have been written before the lines as published in Sibylline Leaves took shape: 'How marked the contrast between troubled manhood and joyously-active youth in the sense of time! To the former, time like the sun in an empty sky is never seen to move, but only to have moved. There, there it was, and now 'tis here, now distant! yet all a blank between. To the latter it is as the full moon in a fine breezy October night, driving on amid clouds of all shapes and hues, and kindling shifting colours, like an ostrich in its speed, and yet seems not to have moved at all. This I feel to be a just image of time real and time as felt, in two different states of being. The title of the poem therefore (for poem it ought to be) should be time real and time felt (in the sense of time) in active youth, or activity with hope and fullness of aim in any period, and in despondent, objectless manhood—time objective and subjective.' Anima Poetae, 1895, pp. 241-2.
AN INVOCATION[420:1]
FROM REMORSE
[Act III, Scene i. ll. 69-82.]
Hear, sweet Spirit, hear the spell, Lest a blacker charm compel! So shall the midnight breezes swell With thy deep long-lingering knell.
And at evening evermore, 5 In a chapel on the shore, Shall the chaunter, sad and saintly, Yellow tapers burning faintly, Doleful masses chaunt for thee, Miserere Domine! 10
Hush! the cadence dies away On the quiet moonlight sea: The boatmen rest their oars and say, Miserere Domine!
1812.
FOOTNOTES:
[420:1] First published in Remorse, 1813. First collected, 1844.
LINENOTES:
An Invocation—7 chaunter] chaunters 1813, 1828, 1839, 1893.
[12] quiet] yellow 1813, 1828, 1829.
THE NIGHT-SCENE[421:1]
A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT
Sandoval. You loved the daughter of Don Manrique?
Earl Henry. Loved?
Sand. Did you not say you wooed her?
Earl H. Once I loved Her whom I dared not woo!
Sand. And wooed, perchance, One whom you loved not!
Earl H. Oh! I were most base, Not loving Oropeza. True, I wooed her, 5 Hoping to heal a deeper wound; but she Met my advances with impassioned pride, That kindled love with love. And when her sire, Who in his dream of hope already grasped The golden circlet in his hand, rejected 10 My suit with insult, and in memory Of ancient feuds poured curses on my head, Her blessings overtook and baffled them! But thou art stern, and with unkindly countenance Art inly reasoning whilst thou listenest to me. 15
Sand. Anxiously, Henry! reasoning anxiously. But Oropeza—
Earl H. Blessings gather round her! Within this wood there winds a secret passage, Beneath the walls, which opens out at length Into the gloomiest covert of the garden.— 20 The night ere my departure to the army, She, nothing trembling, led me through that gloom, And to that covert by a silent stream, Which, with one star reflected near its marge, Was the sole object visible around me. 25 No leaflet stirred; the air was almost sultry; So deep, so dark, so close, the umbrage o'er us! No leaflet stirred;—yet pleasure hung upon The gloom and stillness of the balmy night-air. A little further on an arbour stood, 30 Fragrant with flowering trees—I well remember What an uncertain glimmer in the darkness Their snow-white blossoms made—thither she led me, To that sweet bower! Then Oropeza trembled— I heard her heart beat—if 'twere not my own. 35
Sand. A rude and soaring note, my friend!
Earl H. Oh! no! I have small memory of aught but pleasure. The inquietudes of fear, like lesser streams Still flowing, still were lost in those of love: So love grew mightier from the fear, and Nature, 40 Fleeing from Pain, sheltered herself in Joy. The stars above our heads were dim and steady, Like eyes suffused with rapture. Life was in us: We were all life, each atom of our frames A living soul—I vowed to die for her: 45 With the faint voice of one who, having spoken, Relapses into blessedness, I vowed it: That solemn vow, a whisper scarcely heard, A murmur breathed against a lady's ear. Oh! there is joy above the name of pleasure. 50 Deep self-possession, an intense repose.
Sand. (with a sarcastic smile). No other than as eastern sages paint, The God, who floats upon a Lotos leaf, Dreams for a thousand ages; then awaking, Creates a world, and smiling at the bubble, 55 Relapses into bliss.
Earl H. Ah! was that bliss Feared as an alien, and too vast for man? For suddenly, impatient of its silence, Did Oropeza, starting, grasp my forehead. I caught her arms; the veins were swelling on them. 60 Through the dark bower she sent a hollow voice;— 'Oh! what if all betray me? what if thou?' I swore, and with an inward thought that seemed The purpose and the substance of my being, I swore to her, that were she red with guilt, 65 I would exchange my unblenched state with hers.— Friend! by that winding passage, to that bower I now will go—all objects there will teach me Unwavering love, and singleness of heart. Go, Sandoval! I am prepared to meet her— 70 Say nothing of me—I myself will seek her— Nay, leave me, friend! I cannot bear the torment And keen inquiry of that scanning eye.—
[Earl Henry retires into the wood.
Sand. (alone). O Henry! always striv'st thou to be great By thine own act—yet art thou never great 75 But by the inspiration of great passion. The whirl-blast comes, the desert-sands rise up And shape themselves; from Earth to Heaven they stand, As though they were the pillars of a temple, Built by Omnipotence in its own honour! 80 But the blast pauses, and their shaping spirit Is fled: the mighty columns were but sand, And lazy snakes trail o'er the level ruins!
1813.
FOOTNOTES:
[421:1] First published in its present state in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. For an earlier draft, forming part of an 'Historic Drama in Five Acts' (unfinished) entitled The Triumph of Loyalty, 1801, vide Appendices of this edition. A prose sketch without title or heading is contained in one of Coleridge's earliest notebooks.
LINENOTES:
[14] unkindly] unkindling 1893.
[23] And to the covert by that silent stream S. L., corrected in Errata, p. [xi].
[24] near] o'er S. L., corrected in Errata, p. [xi].
A HYMN[423:1]
My Maker! of thy power the trace In every creature's form and face The wond'ring soul surveys: Thy wisdom, infinite above Seraphic thought, a Father's love 5 As infinite displays!
From all that meets or eye or ear, There falls a genial holy fear Which, like the heavy dew of morn, Refreshes while it bows the heart forlorn! 10
Great God! thy works how wondrous fair! Yet sinful man didst thou declare The whole Earth's voice and mind! Lord, ev'n as Thou all-present art, O may we still with heedful heart 15 Thy presence know and find! Then, come what will, of weal or woe, Joy's bosom-spring shall steady flow; For though 'tis Heaven THYSELF to see, Where but thy Shadow falls, Grief cannot be!— 20
1814.
FOOTNOTES:
[423:1] First published in Poems, 1852. The MS. was placed in the hands of the Editors by J. W. Wilkins, Esq., of Trinity Hall, Cambridge. 'The accompanying autograph,' writes Mr. Wilkins, 'dated 1814, and addressed to Mrs. Hood of Brunswick Square, was given not later than the year 1817 to a relative of my own who was then residing at Clifton (and was, at the time at which it passed into his hands, an attendant on Mr. Coleridge's lectures, which were in course of delivery at that place), either by the lady to whom it is addressed, or by some other friend of Mr. Coleridge.' 1852, Notes, p. 385.
TO A LADY[424:1]
WITH FALCONER'S SHIPWRECK
Ah! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams, In archd groves, the youthful poet's choice; Nor while half-listening, 'mid delicious dreams, To harp and song from lady's hand and voice;
Not yet while gazing in sublimer mood 5 On cliff, or cataract, in Alpine dell; Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-weed strewed. Framing wild fancies to the ocean's swell;
Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he sings, And sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, Pity, hark! Now mounts, now totters on the tempest's wings, 11 Now groans, and shivers, the replunging bark!
'Cling to the shrouds!' In vain! The breakers roar— Death shrieks! With two alone of all his clan Forlorn the poet paced the Grecian shore, 15 No classic roamer, but a shipwrecked man!
Say then, what muse inspired these genial strains, And lit his spirit to so bright a flame? The elevating thought of suffered pains, Which gentle hearts shall mourn; but chief, the name 20
Of gratitude! remembrances of friend, Or absent or no more! shades of the Past, Which Love makes substance! Hence to thee I send, O dear as long as life and memory last!
I send with deep regards of heart and head, 25 Sweet maid, for friendship formed! this work to thee: And thou, the while thou canst not choose but shed A tear for Falconer, wilt remember me.
? 1814.
FOOTNOTES:
[424:1] First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. A different or emended version headed 'Written in a Blank Leaf of Faulkner's Shipwreck, presented by a friend to Miss K', was published in Felix Farley's Bristol Journal of February 21, 1818. [See Note by G. E. Weare, Weston-super-Mare, January, 1905.]
LINENOTES:
Title] To a Lady With Falkner's 'Shipwreck' S. L.
[2] archd] cloyst'ring F. F.
[3] 'mid] midst F. F.
[4] lady's] woman's F. F.
[5] sublimer] diviner F. F.
[6] On torrent falls, on woody mountain dell F. F.
[7] sea-weed] sea-weeds F. F.
[8] Attuning wild tales to the ocean's swell F. F.
[9] this] this F. F.
[10] thee] thee F. F.
[11] It mounts, it totters F. F.
[12] It groans, it quivers F. F.
[14] of] and F. F.
[15] Forlorn the] The toil-worn F. F.
[17-20]
Say then what power evoked such genial strains And beckon'd godlike to the trembling Muse? The thought not pleasureless of suffer'd pains But chiefly friendship's voice, her holy dues.
F. F.
[21] Demanding dear remembrances of friend F. F.
[22] Which love makes real! Thence F. F.
[24] life] love F. F.
[26] Sweet Maid for friendship framed this song to thee F. F.
[28] Falconer] FALKNER S. L.: Faulkner F. F. me] ME S. L., 1828, 1829.
HUMAN LIFE[425:1]
—ON THE DENIAL OF IMMORTALITY
If dead, we cease to be; if total gloom Swallow up life's brief flash for aye, we fare As summer-gusts, of sudden birth and doom, Whose sound and motion not alone declare, But are their whole of being! If the breath[425:2] 5 Be Life itself, and not its task and tent, If even a soul like Milton's can know death; O Man! thou vessel purposeless, unmeant, Yet drone-hive strange of phantom purposes! Surplus of Nature's dread activity, 10 Which, as she gazed on some nigh-finished vase, Retreating slow, with meditative pause, She formed with restless hands unconsciously. Blank accident! nothing's anomaly! If rootless thus, thus substanceless thy state, 15 Go, weigh thy dreams, and be thy hopes, thy fears, The counter-weights!—Thy laughter and thy tears Mean but themselves, each fittest to create And to repay the other! Why rejoices Thy heart with hollow joy for hollow good? 20 Why cowl thy face beneath the mourner's hood? Why waste thy sighs, and thy lamenting voices, Image of Image, Ghost of Ghostly Elf, That such a thing as thou feel'st warm or cold? Yet what and whence thy gain, if thou withhold 25 These costless shadows of thy shadowy self? Be sad! be glad! be neither! seek, or shun! Thou hast no reason why! Thou canst have none; Thy being's being is contradiction.
? 1815.
FOOTNOTES:
[425:1] First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[425:2] Halitus = anima animae tabernaculum MS. Note (? S. T. C.)
LINENOTES:
[5] are] are S. L., 1828, 1829. whole] whole S. L., 1828, 1829.
[19] the] each 1887-80, 1893.
SONG[426:1]
FROM ZAPOLYA
A Sunny shaft did I behold, From sky to earth it slanted: And poised therein a bird so bold— Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted!
He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled 5 Within that shaft of sunny mist; His eyes of fire, his beak of gold, All else of amethyst!
And thus he sang: 'Adieu! adieu! Love's dreams prove seldom true. 10 The blossoms they make no delay: The sparkling dew-drops will not stay. Sweet month of May, We must away; Far, far away! 15 To-day! to-day!'
1815.
FOOTNOTES:
[426:1] First published in Zapolya, 1817 (Act II, Scene i, ll. 65-80). First collected in 1844. Two MSS. are extant, one in the possession of Mr. John Murray (MS. M.), and a second in the possession of the Editor (MS. S. T. C.). For a prose version of Glycine's Song, probably a translation from the German, vide Appendices of this edition.
LINENOTES:
Title] Sung by Glycine in Zapolya 1893: Glycine's Song MS. M.
[1] A pillar grey did I behold MS. S. T. C.
[4] A faery Bird that chanted MS. S. T. C.
[6] sunny] shiny MS. S. T. C.
[11, 12] om. MS S. T. C., MS. M.
HUNTING SONG[427:1]
FROM ZAPOLYA
Up, up! ye dames, and lasses gay! To the meadows trip away. 'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn, And scare the small birds from the corn. Not a soul at home may stay: 5 For the shepherds must go With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
Leave the hearth and leave the house To the cricket and the mouse: 10 Find grannam out a sunny seat. With babe and lambkin at her feet. Not a soul at home may stay: For the shepherds must go With lance and bow 15 To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
1815.
FOOTNOTES:
[427:1] First published in Zapolya (Act IV, Scene ii, ll. 56-71). First collected, 1844.
LINENOTES:
Title] Choral Song 1893.
FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY[427:2]
FROM THE ITALIAN OF GUARINI
FAITH
Let those whose low delights to Earth are given Chaunt forth their earthly Loves! but we Must make an holier minstrelsy, And, heavenly-born, will sing the Things of Heaven.
CHARITY
But who for us the listening Heart shall gain? 5 Inaudible as of the sphere Our music dies upon the ear, Enchanted with the mortal Syren's strain.
HOPE
Yet let our choral songs abound! Th' inspiring Power, its living Source, 10 May flow with them and give them force, If, elsewhere all unheard, in Heaven they sound.
ALL
Aid thou our voice, Great Spirit! thou whose flame Kindled the Songster sweet of Israel, Who made so high to swell 15 Beyond a mortal strain thy glorious Name.
CHARITY AND FAITH
Though rapt to Heaven, our mission and our care Is still to sojourn on the Earth, To shape, to soothe, Man's second Birth, And re-ascend to Heaven, Heaven's prodigal Heir! 20
CHARITY
What is Man's soul of Love deprived?
HOPE. FAITH
It like a Harp untund is, That sounds, indeed, but sounds amiss.
CHARITY. HOPE
From holy Love all good gifts are derived.
FAITH
But 'tis time that every nation 25 Should hear how loftily we sing.
FAITH. HOPE. CHARITY
See, O World, see thy salvation! Let the Heavens with praises ring. Who would have a Throne above, Let him hope, believe and love; 30 And whoso loves no earthly song, But does for heavenly music long, Faith, Hope, and Charity for him, Shall sing like wingd Cherubim.
1815.
FOOTNOTES:
[427:2] From a hitherto unpublished MS. For the original Dialogo: Fide, Speranza, Fide, included in the 'Madrigali . . .' del Signor Cavalier Battista Guarini, 1663, vide Appendices of this edition. The translation in Coleridge's handwriting is preceded by another version transcribed and, possibly, composed by Hartley Coleridge.
TO NATURE[429:1]
It may indeed be phantasy, when I Essay to draw from all created things Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings; And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie Lessons of love and earnest piety. 5 So let it be; and if the wide world rings In mock of this belief, it brings Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity. So will I build my altar in the fields, And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be, 10 And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee, Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.
? 1820.
FOOTNOTES:
[429:1] First published in Letters, Conversations and Recollections by S. T. Coleridge, 1836, i. 144. First collected in Poems, 1863, Appendix, p. 391.
LIMBO[429:2]
* * * * *
The sole true Something—This! In Limbo's Den It frightens Ghosts, as here Ghosts frighten men. Thence cross'd unseiz'd—and shall some fated hour Be pulveris'd by Demogorgon's power, And given as poison to annihilate souls— 5 Even now it shrinks them—they shrink in as Moles (Nature's mute monks, live mandrakes of the ground) Creep back from Light—then listen for its sound;— See but to dread, and dread they know not why— The natural alien of their negative eye. 10
'Tis a strange place, this Limbo!—not a Place, Yet name it so;—where Time and weary Space Fettered from flight, with night-mare sense of fleeing, Strive for their last crepuscular half-being;— Lank Space, and scytheless Time with branny hands 15 Barren and soundless as the measuring sands, Not mark'd by flit of Shades,—unmeaning they As moonlight on the dial of the day! But that is lovely—looks like Human Time,— An Old Man with a steady look sublime, 20 That stops his earthly task to watch the skies; But he is blind—a Statue hath such eyes;— Yet having moonward turn'd his face by chance, Gazes the orb with moon-like countenance, With scant white hairs, with foretop bald and high, 25 He gazes still,—his eyeless face all eye;— As 'twere an organ full of silent sight, His whole face seemeth to rejoice in light! Lip touching lip, all moveless, bust and limb— He seems to gaze at that which seems to gaze on him! 30 No such sweet sights doth Limbo den immure, Wall'd round, and made a spirit-jail secure, By the mere horror of blank Naught-at-all, Whose circumambience doth these ghosts enthral. A lurid thought is growthless, dull Privation, 35 Yet that is but a Purgatory curse; Hell knows a fear far worse, A fear—a future state;—'tis positive Negation!
1817.
FOOTNOTES:
[429:2] First published, in its present shape, from an original MS. in 1893 (inscribed in a notebook). Lines 6-10 ('they shrink . . . negative eye') were first printed in The Friend (1818, iii. 215), and included as a separate fragment with the title 'Moles' in P. W., 1834, i. 259. Lines 11-38 were first printed with the title 'Limbo' in P. W., 1834, i. 272-3. The lines as quoted in The Friend were directed against 'the partisans of a crass and sensual materialism, the advocates of the Nihil nisi ab extra'. The following variants, now first printed, are from a second MS. (MS. S. T. C.) in the possession of Miss Edith Coleridge. In the notebook Limbo is followed by the lines entitled Ne Plus Ultra, vide post, p. 431.
LINENOTES:
Title] Another Fragment, but in a very different style, from a Dream of Purgatory, alias Limbus MS. S. T. C. [Note.—In this MS. Phantom, 'All Look and Likeness,' &c. precedes Limbo.]
[Between 2-3]
For skimming in the wake it mock'd the care Of the old Boat-God for his farthing fare; Tho' Irus' Ghost itself he ne'er frown'd blacker on The skin and skin-pent Druggist cross'd the Acheron, Styx, and with Periphlegeton Cocytus,— (The very names, methinks, might frighten us) Unchang'd it cross'd—and shall some fated hour
MS. Notebook.
[Coleridge marks these lines as 'a specimen of the Sublime dashed to pieces by cutting too close with the fiery Four-in-Hand round the corner of Nonsense.']
[6] They, like moles Friend, 1818.
[8] Shrink from the light, then listen for a sound Friend, 1818.
[12] so] such MS. S. T. C.
[16] the] his MS. S. T. C.
[17] Mark'd but by Flit MS. S. T. C.
[30] at] on MS. S. T. C.
[31 foll.]
In one sole Outlet yawns the Phantom Wall, And through this grim road to [a] worser thrall Oft homeward scouring from a sick Child's dream Old Mother Brownrigg shoots upon a scream; And turning back her Face with hideous Leer, Leaves Sentry there Intolerable Fear! A horrid thought is growthless dull Negation: Yet that is but a Purgatory Curse, SHE knows a fear far worse Flee, lest thou hear its Name! Flee, rash Imagination!
* * * * *
S. T. Coleridge, 1st Oct. 1827, Grove, Highgate.
NE PLUS ULTRA[431:1]
Sole Positive of Night! Antipathist of Light! Fate's only essence! primal scorpion rod— The one permitted opposite of God!— Condensd blackness and abysmal storm 5 Compacted to one sceptre Arms the Grasp enorm— The Intercepter— The Substance that still casts the shadow Death!— The Dragon foul and fell— 10 The unrevealable, And hidden one, whose breath Gives wind and fuel to the fires of Hell! Ah! sole despair Of both th' eternities in Heaven! 15 Sole interdict of all-bedewing prayer, The all-compassionate! Save to the Lampads Seven Reveal'd to none of all th' Angelic State, Save to the Lampads Seven, 20 That watch the throne of Heaven!
? 1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[431:1] First published in 1834. The MS., which is inscribed in a notebook, is immediately preceded by that of the first draft of Limbo (ante, p. 429). The so-called 'Ne Plus Ultra' may have been intended to illustrate a similar paradox—the 'positivity of negation'. No date can be assigned to either of these metaphysical conceits, but there can be little doubt that they were 'written in later life'.
THE KNIGHT'S TOMB[432:1]
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn? Where may the grave of that good man be?— By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn, Under the twigs of a young birch tree! The oak that in summer was sweet to hear, 5 And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year, And whistled and roared in the winter alone, Is gone,—and the birch in its stead is grown.— The Knight's bones are dust, And his good sword rust;— 10 His soul is with the saints, I trust.
? 1817.
FOOTNOTES:
[432:1] First published in P. W., 1834. Gillman (Life, p. 276) says that the lines were composed 'as an experiment for a metre', and repeated by the author to 'a mutual friend', who 'spoke of his visit to Highgate' and repeated them to Scott on the following day. The last three lines, 'somewhat altered', are quoted in Ivanhoe, chapter viii, and again in Castle Dangerous, chapter ix. They run thus:—
The knights are dust, And their good swords are rust;— Their souls are with the saints, we trust.
Gillman says that the Ivanhoe quotation convinced Coleridge that Scott was the author of the Waverley Novels. In the Appendix to the 'Notes' to Castle Dangerous (1834), which was edited and partly drawn up by Lockhart, the poem is quoted in full, with a prefatory note ('The author has somewhat altered part of a beautiful unpublished fragment of Coleridge').
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur Orellan,— Where may the grave of that good knight be? By the marge of a brook, on the slope of Helvellyn, Under the boughs of a young birch-tree. The Oak that in summer was pleasant to hear, That rustled in autumn all wither'd and sear, That whistled and groan'd thro' the winter alone, He hath gone, and a birch in his place is grown. The knight's bones are dust, His good sword is rust; His spirit is with the saints, we trust.
This version must have been transcribed from a MS. in Lockhart's possession, and represents a first draft of the lines as published in 1834. These lines are, no doubt, an 'experiment for a metre'. The upward movement (ll. 1-7) is dactylic: the fall (ll. 8-11) is almost, if not altogether, spondaic. The whole forms a complete stanza, or metrical scheme, which may be compared with ll. 264-78 of the First Part of Christabel. Mrs. H. N. Coleridge, who must have been familiar with Gillman's story, dates the Knight's Tomb 1802.
ON DONNE'S POETRY[433:1]
With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots, Wreathe iron pokers into true-love knots; Rhyme's sturdy cripple, fancy's maze and clue, Wit's forge and fire-blast, meaning's press and screw.
? 1818
FOOTNOTES:
[433:1] First published in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 148, from 'notes written by Mr. Coleridge in a volume of "Chalmers's Poets"'. Line 2 finds a place in Hartley Coleridge's couplets on Donne which are written on the fly-leaves and covers of his copy of Anderson's British Poets. In the original MS. it is enclosed in quotation marks. First collected in P. W., 1885, ii. 409.
ISRAEL'S LAMENT[433:2]
'A Hebrew Dirge, chaunted in the Great Synagogue, St. James's Place, Aldgate, on the day of the Funeral of her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte. By Hyman Hurwitz, Master of the Hebrew Academy, Highgate: with a Translation in English Verse, by S. T. Coleridge, Esq., 1817.'
Mourn, Israel! Sons of Israel, mourn! Give utterance to the inward throe! As wails, of her first love forlorn, The Virgin clad in robes of woe.
Mourn the young Mother, snatch'd away 5 From Light and Life's ascending Sun! Mourn for the Babe, Death's voiceless prey, Earn'd by long pangs and lost ere won.
Mourn the bright Rose that bloom'd and went, Ere half disclosed its vernal hue! 10 Mourn the green Bud, so rudely rent, It brake the stem on which it grew.
Mourn for the universal woe With solemn dirge and fault'ring tongue: For England's Lady is laid low, 15 So dear, so lovely, and so young!
The blossoms on her Tree of Life Shone with the dews of recent bliss: Transplanted in that deadly strife, She plucks its fruits in Paradise. 20
Mourn for the widow'd Lord in chief, Who wails and will not solaced be! Mourn for the childless Father's grief, The wedded Lover's agony!
Mourn for the Prince, who rose at morn 25 To seek and bless the firstling bud Of his own Rose, and found the thorn, Its point bedew'd with tears of blood.
O press again that murmuring string! Again bewail that princely Sire! 30 A destined Queen, a future King, He mourns on one funereal pyre.
Mourn for Britannia's hopes decay'd, Her daughters wail their dear defence; Their fair example, prostrate laid, 35 Chaste Love and fervid Innocence.
While Grief in song shall seek repose, We will take up a Mourning yearly: To wail the blow that crush'd the Rose, So dearly priz'd and lov'd so dearly. 40
Long as the fount of Song o'erflows Will I the yearly dirge renew: Mourn for the firstling of the Rose, That snapt the stem on which it grew.
The proud shall pass, forgot; the chill, 45 Damp, trickling Vault their only mourner! Not so the regal Rose, that still Clung to the breast which first had worn her!
O thou, who mark'st the Mourner's path To sad Jeshurun's Sons attend! 50 Amid the Light'nings of thy Wrath The showers of Consolation send!
Jehovah frowns! the Islands bow! And Prince and People kiss the Rod!— Their dread chastising Judge wert thou! 55 Be thou their Comforter, O God!
1817.
FOOTNOTES:
[433:2] First published, together with the Hebrew, as an octavo pamphlet (pp. 13) in 1817. An abbreviated version was included in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 57-8 and in the Appendix to Poems, 1863. The Lament as a whole was first collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80, ii. 282-5.
LINENOTES:
Title] Israel's Lament on the death of the Princess Charlotte of Wales. From the Hebrew of Hyman Hurwitz L. R.
[19] Transplanted] Translated L. R., 1863.
[21-4] om. L. R, 1863.
[29-32] om. L. R., 1863.
[49-56] om. L. R., 1863.
[49] Mourner's] Mourners' L. R., 1863.
FANCY IN NUBIBUS[435:1]
OR THE POET IN THE CLOUDS
O! it is pleasant, with a heart at ease, Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies, To make the shifting clouds be what you please, Or let the easily persuaded eyes Own each quaint likeness issuing from the mould 5 Of a friend's fancy; or with head bent low And cheek aslant see rivers flow of gold 'Twixt crimson banks; and then, a traveller, go From mount to mount through Cloudland, gorgeous land! Or list'ning to the tide, with closd sight, 10 Be that blind bard, who on the Chian strand By those deep sounds possessed with inward light, Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssee Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea.
1817.
FOOTNOTES:
[435:1] First published in Felix Farley's Bristol Journal for February 7, 1818: and afterwards in Blackwood's Magazine for November, 1819. First collected in 1828: included in 1829 and 1834. A MS. in the possession of Major Butterworth of Carlisle is signed 'S. T. Coleridge, Little Hampton, Oct. 1818'. In a letter to Coleridge dated Jan. 10, 1820, Lamb asks, 'Who put your marine sonnet [i. e. A Sonnet written on the Sea Coast, vide Title] . . . in Blackwood?' F. Freiligrath in his Introduction to the Tauchnitz edition says that the last five lines are borrowed from Stolberg's An das Meer; vide Appendices of this edition.
LINENOTES:
Title] Fancy, &c. A Sonnet Composed by the Seaside, October 1817. F. F.: Fancy in Nubibus. A Sonnet, composed on the Sea Coast 1819.
[4] let] bid 1819.
[5] Own] Owe F. F. 1818. quaint] strange 1819.
[6] head] heart MS.: head bow'd low 1819.
[9] through] o'er 1819.
THE TEARS OF A GRATEFUL PEOPLE[436:1]
A Hebrew Dirge and Hymn, chaunted in the Great Synagogue. St. James' pl. Aldgate, on the Day of the Funeral of King George III. of blessed memory. By Hyman Hurwitz of Highgate, Translated by a Friend.
Dirge
Oppress'd, confused, with grief and pain, And inly shrinking from the blow, In vain I seek the dirgeful strain, The wonted words refuse to flow.
A fear in every face I find, 5 Each voice is that of one who grieves; And all my Soul, to grief resigned, Reflects the sorrow it receives.
The Day-Star of our glory sets! Our King has breathed his latest breath! 10 Each heart its wonted pulse forgets, As if it own'd the pow'r of death.
Our Crown, our heart's Desire is fled! Britannia's glory moults its wing! Let us with ashes on our head, 15 Raise up a mourning for our King.
Lo! of his beams the Day-Star shorn,[436:2] Sad gleams the Moon through cloudy veil! The Stars are dim! Our Nobles mourn; The Matrons weep, their Children wail. 20
No age records a King so just, His virtues numerous as his days; The Lord Jehovah was his trust, And truth with mercy ruled his ways.
His Love was bounded by no Clime; 25 Each diverse Race, each distant Clan He govern'd by this truth sublime, 'God only knows the heart—not man.'
His word appall'd the sons of pride, Iniquity far wing'd her way; 30 Deceit and fraud were scatter'd wide, And truth resum'd her sacred sway.
He sooth'd the wretched, and the prey From impious tyranny he tore; He stay'd th' Usurper's iron sway, 35 And bade the Spoiler waste no more.
Thou too, Jeshurun's Daughter! thou, Th' oppress'd of nations and the scorn! Didst hail on his benignant brow A safety dawning like the morn. 40
The scoff of each unfeeling mind, Thy doom was hard, and keen thy grief; Beneath his throne, peace thou didst find, And blest the hand that gave relief.
E'en when a fatal cloud o'erspread 45 The moonlight splendour of his sway, Yet still the light remain'd, and shed Mild radiance on the traveller's way.
But he is gone—the Just! the Good! Nor could a Nation's pray'r delay 50 The heavenly meed, that long had stood His portion in the realms of day.
Beyond the mighty Isle's extent The mightier Nation mourns her Chief: Him Judah's Daughter shall lament, 55 In tears of fervour, love and grief.
Britannia mourns in silent grief; Her heart a prey to inward woe. In vain she strives to find relief, Her pang so great, so great the blow. 60
Britannia! Sister! woe is me! Full fain would I console thy woe. But, ah! how shall I comfort thee, Who need the balm I would bestow?
United then let us repair, 65 As round our common Parent's grave; And pouring out our heart in prayer, Our heav'nly Father's mercy crave.
Until Jehovah from his throne Shall heed his suffering people's fears; 70 Shall turn to song the Mourner's groan, To smiles of joy the Nation's tears.
Praise to the Lord! Loud praises sing! And bless Jehovah's righteous hand! Again he bids a George, our King, 75 Dispense his blessings to the Land.
Hymn
O thron'd in Heav'n! Sole King of kings, Jehovah! hear thy Children's prayers and sighs! Thou Binder of the broken heart! with wings Of healing on thy people rise! 80 Thy mercies, Lord, are sweet; And Peace and Mercy meet, Before thy Judgment seat: Lord, hear us! we entreat!
When angry clouds thy throne surround, 85 E'en from the cloud thou bid'st thy mercy shine: And ere thy righteous vengeance strikes the wound, Thy grace prepares the balm divine! Thy mercies, Lord, are sweet; etc.
The Parent tree thy hand did spare— 90 It fell not till the ripen'd fruit was won: Beneath its shade the Scion flourish'd fair, And for the Sire thou gav'st the Son. etc.
This thy own Vine, which thou didst rear, And train up for us from the royal root, 95 Protect, O Lord! and to the Nations near Long let it shelter yield, and fruit, etc.
Lord, comfort thou the royal line: Let Peace and Joy watch round us hand and hand. Our Nobles visit with thy grace divine, 100 And banish sorrow from the land! Thy mercies, Lord, are sweet; And Peace and Mercy meet Before thy Judgment seat; Lord, hear us! we entreat! 105
1820.
FOOTNOTES:
[436:1] First published with the Hebrew in pamphlet form in 1820. First collected in 1893.
[436:2] The author, in the spirit of Hebrew Poetry, here represents the Crown, the Peerage, and the Commonalty, by the figurative expression of the Sun, Moon, and Stars.
YOUTH AND AGE[439:1]
Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying, Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee— Both were mine! Life went a-maying With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, When I was young! 5
When I was young?—Ah, woful When! Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then! This breathing house not built with hands, This body that does me grievous wrong, O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands, 10 How lightly then it flashed along:— Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, On winding lakes and rivers wide, That ask no aid of sail or oar, That fear no spite of wind or tide! 15 Nought cared this body for wind or weather When Youth and I lived in't together.
Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like; Friendship is a sheltering tree; O! the joys, that came down shower-like. 20 Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty, Ere I was old!
Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere, Which tells me, Youth's no longer here! O Youth! for years so many and sweet, 25 'Tis known, that Thou and I were one, I'll think it but a fond conceit— It cannot be that Thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:— And thou wert aye a masker bold! 30 What strange disguise hast now put on, To make believe, that thou art gone? I see these locks in silvery slips, This drooping gait, this altered size: But Spring-tide blossoms on thy lips. 35 And tears take sunshine from thine eyes! Life is but thought: so think I will That Youth and I are house-mates still.
Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve! 40 Where no hope is, life's a warning That only serves to make us grieve, When we are old:
That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking-leave, 45 Like some poor nigh-related guest, That may not rudely be dismist; Yet hath outstay'd his welcome while, And tells the jest without the smile.
1823-1832.
FOOTNOTES:
[439:1] First published in its present shape in 1834. Lines 1-38, with the heading 'Youth and Age', were first published in the Literary Souvenir, 1828, and also in the Bijou, 1828: included in 1828, 1829. Lines 39-49 were first published in Blackwood's Magazine for June 1832, entitled 'An Old Man's Sigh: a Sonnet', as 'an out-slough or hypertrophic stanza of a certain poem called "Youth and Age".' Of lines 1-43 three MSS. are extant. (1) A fair copy (MS. 1) presented to Derwent Coleridge, and now in the Editor's possession. In MS. 1 the poem is divided into three stanzas: (i) lines 1-17; (ii) lines 18-38; (iii) lines 39-43. The watermark of this MS. on a quarto sheet of Bath Post letter-paper is 1822. (2) A rough draft, in a notebook dated Sept. 10, 1823; and (3) a corrected draft of forty-three lines (vide for MSS. 2, 3 Appendices of this edition). A MS. version of An Old Man's Sigh, dated 'Grove, Highgate, April 1832', was contributed to Miss Rotha Quillinan's Album; and another version numbering only eight lines was inscribed in an album in 1828 when Coleridge was on his Rhine tour with Wordsworth. After line 42 this version continues:—
As we creep feebly down life's slope, Yet courteous dame, accept this truth, Hope leaves us not, but we leave hope, And quench the inward light of youth. T. Colley Grattan's Beaten Paths, 1862, ii. 139.
There can be little doubt that lines 1-43 were composed in 1823, and that the last six lines of the text which form part of An Old Man's Sigh were composed, as an afterthought, in 1832.
LINENOTES:
[1] Verse, a] Verse is a with the alternative ? Vērse ă breeze MS. 1.
[2] clung] clings MS. 1, Bijou.
[6] When I] When I 1828, 1829.
[8] This house of clay MS. 1, Bijou.
[10] O'er hill and dale and sounding sands MS. 1, Bijou.
[11] then] then 1828, 1829.
[12] skiffs] boats MS. 1, Bijou.
[20] came] come Bijou.
[21] Of Beauty, Truth, and Liberty MS. 1, Bijou.
[23] Ere I] Ere I 1828, 1829. woful] mournful Literary Souvenir.
[25] many] merry Bijou.
[27] fond] false MS. 1, Bijou.
[32] make believe] make believe 1828, 1829.
[34] drooping] dragging MS. 1, Bijou.
[42-4]
That only serves to make me grieve Now I am old! Now I am old,—ah woful Now
MS. 1.
[44-5]
In our old age Whose bruised wings quarrel with the bars of the still narrowing cage.
Inserted in 1832.
[49] Two lines were added in 1832:—
O might Life cease! and Selfless Mind, Whose total Being is Act, alone remain behind.
THE REPROOF AND REPLY[441:1]
Or, The Flower-Thief's Apology, for a robbery committed in Mr. and Mrs. ——'s garden, on Sunday morning, 25th of May, 1823, between the hours of eleven and twelve.
"Fie, Mr. Coleridge!—and can this be you? Break two commandments? and in church-time too! Have you not heard, or have you heard in vain, The birth-and-parentage-recording strain?— Confessions shrill, that out-shrill'd mack'rel drown 5 Fresh from the drop—the youth not yet cut down— Letter to sweet-heart—the last dying speech— And didn't all this begin in Sabbath-breach? You, that knew better! In broad open day, Steal in, steal out, and steal our flowers away? 10 What could possess you? Ah! sweet youth. I fear The chap with horns and tail was at your ear!"
Such sounds of late, accusing fancy brought From fair Chisholm to the Poet's thought. Now hear the meek Parnassian youth's reply:— 15 A bow—a pleading look—a downcast eye,— And then:
"Fair dame! a visionary wight, Hard by your hill-side mansion sparkling white, His thoughts all hovering round the Muses' home, Long hath it been your Poet's wont to roam, 20 And many a morn, on his becharmd sense So rich a stream of music issued thence, He deem'd himself, as it flowed warbling on, Beside the vocal fount of Helicon! But when, as if to settle the concern, 25 A Nymph too he beheld, in many a turn, Guiding the sweet rill from its fontal urn,— Say, can you blame?—No! none that saw and heard Could blame a bard, that he thus inly stirr'd; A muse beholding in each fervent trait, 30 Took Mary H—— for Polly Hymnia! Or haply as there stood beside the maid One loftier form in sable stole array'd, If with regretful thought he hail'd in thee Chisholm, his long-lost friend, Mol Pomene! 35 But most of you, soft warblings, I complain! 'Twas ye that from the bee-hive of my brain Did lure the fancies forth, a freakish rout, And witch'd the air with dreams turn'd inside out.
"Thus all conspir'd—each power of eye and ear, 40 And this gay month, th' enchantress of the year, To cheat poor me (no conjuror, God wot!) And Chisholm's self accomplice in the plot. Can you then wonder if I went astray? Not bards alone, nor lovers mad as they;— 45 All Nature day-dreams in the month of May. And if I pluck'd 'each flower that sweetest blows,'— Who walks in sleep, needs follow must his nose.
"Thus, long accustom'd on the twy-fork'd hill,[442:1] To pluck both flower and floweret at my will; 50 The garden's maze, like No-man's-land, I tread, Nor common law, nor statute in my head; For my own proper smell, sight, fancy, feeling, With autocratic hand at once repealing Five Acts of Parliament 'gainst private stealing! 55 But yet from Chisholm who despairs of grace? There's no spring-gun or man-trap in that face! Let Moses then look black, and Aaron blue, That look as if they had little else to do: For Chisholm speaks, 'Poor youth! he's but a waif! 60 The spoons all right? the hen and chickens safe? Well, well, he shall not forfeit our regards— The Eighth Commandment was not made for Bards!'"[443:1]
1823.
FOOTNOTES:
[441:1] First published in Friendship's Offering for 1834, as the first of four 'Lightheartednesses in Rhyme'. A motto was prefixed:—'I expect no sense, worth listening to, from the man who never does talk nonsense,'—Anon. In F. O., 1834, Chisholm was printed C—— in line 14, C——m in lines 35, 56, and 60, C——m's in line 43. In 1834, 1844 the name was omitted altogether. The text of the present edition follows the MS. First collected in P. W., 1834. A MS. version is in the possession of Miss Edith Coleridge. These lines were included in 1844, but omitted from 1852, 1863, and 1870.
[442:1] The English Parnassus is remarkable for its two summits of unequal height, the lower denominated Hampstead, the higher Highgate.
[443:1] Compare 'The Eighth Commandment was not made for Love', l. 16 of Elegy I of The Love Elegies of Abel Shufflebottom, by R. Southey.
LINENOTES:
Title] The Reproof and Reply (the alternative title is omitted) 1834.
[31] Mary H——] Mary —— 1834, 1844.
[38] Did lure the] Lured the wild F. O. 1834.
FIRST ADVENT OF LOVE[443:2]
O FAIR is Love's first hope to gentle mind! As Eve's first star thro' fleecy cloudlet peeping; And sweeter than the gentle south-west wind. O'er willowy meads, and shadow'd waters creeping, And Ceres' golden fields;—the sultry hind 5 Meets it with brow uplift, and stays his reaping.
? 1824.
FOOTNOTES:
[443:2] First published in 1834. In a MS. note, dated September 1827, it is included in 'Relics of my School-boy Muse: i. e. fragments of poems composed before my fifteenth year', P. W., 1852, Notes, p. 379; but in an entry in a notebook dated 1824, Coleridge writes: 'A pretty unintended couplet in the prose of Sidney's Arcadia:—
'And, sweeter than a gentle south-west wind O'er flowery fields and shadowed waters creeping In summer's extreme heat.'
The passage which Coleridge versified is to be found in the Arcadia:—
'Her breath is more sweet than a gentle south-west wind, which comes creeping over flowing fields and shadowed waters in the heat of summer.'
LINENOTES:
Title] Love's First Hope 1893.
THE DELINQUENT TRAVELLERS[443:3]
Some are home-sick—some two or three, Their third year on the Arctic Sea— Brave Captain Lyon tells us so[444:1]— Spite of those charming Esquimaux. But O, what scores are sick of Home, 5 Agog for Paris or for Rome! Nay! tho' contented to abide, You should prefer your own fireside; Yet since grim War has ceas'd its madding, And Peace has set John Bull agadding, 10 'Twould such a vulgar taste betray, For very shame you must away! 'What? not yet seen the coast of France! The folks will swear, for lack of bail, You've spent your last five years in jail!' 15
Keep moving! Steam, or Gas, or Stage, Hold, cabin, steerage, hencoop's cage— Tour, Journey, Voyage, Lounge, Ride, Walk, Skim, Sketch, Excursion, Travel-talk— For move you must! 'Tis now the rage, 20 The law and fashion of the Age. If you but perch, where Dover tallies, So strangely with the coast of Calais, With a good glass and knowing look, You'll soon get matter for a book! 25 Or else, in Gas-car, take your chance Like that adventurous king of France, Who, once, with twenty thousand men Went up—and then came down again; At least, he moved if nothing more: 30 And if there's nought left to explore, Yet while your well-greased wheels keep spinning, The traveller's honoured name you're winning, And, snug as Jonas in the Whale, You may loll back and dream a tale. 35 Move, or be moved—there's no protection, Our Mother Earth has ta'en the infection— (That rogue Copernicus, 'tis said First put the whirring in her head,) A planet She, and can't endure 40 T'exist without her annual Tour: The name were else a mere misnomer, Since Planet is but Greek for Roamer. The atmosphere, too, can do no less Than ventilate her emptiness, 45 Bilks turn-pike gates, for no one cares, And gives herself a thousand airs— While streams and shopkeepers, we see, Will have their run toward the sea— And if, meantime, like old King Log, 50 Or ass with tether and a clog, Must graze at home! to yawn and bray 'I guess we shall have rain to-day!' Nor clog nor tether can be worse Than the dead palsy of the purse. 55 Money, I've heard a wise man say, Makes herself wings and flys away: Ah! would She take it in her head To make a pair for me instead! At all events, the Fancy's free, 60 No traveller so bold as she. From Fear and Poverty released I'll saddle Pegasus, at least, And when she's seated to her mind, I within I can mount behind: 65 And since this outward I, you know, Must stay because he cannot go, My fellow-travellers shall be they Who go because they cannot stay— Rogues, rascals, sharpers, blanks and prizes, 70 Delinquents of all sorts and sizes, Fraudulent bankrupts, Knights burglarious, And demireps of means precarious— All whom Law thwarted, Arms or Arts, Compel to visit foreign parts, 75 All hail! No compliments, I pray, I'll follow where you lead the way! But ere we cross the main once more, Methinks, along my native shore, Dismounting from my steed I'll stray 80 Beneath the cliffs of Dumpton Bay.[446:1] Where, Ramsgate and Broadstairs between, Rude caves and grated doors are seen: And here I'll watch till break of day, (For Fancy in her magic might 85 Can turn broad noon to starless night!) When lo! methinks a sudden band Of smock-clad smugglers round me stand. Denials, oaths, in vain I try, At once they gag me for a spy, 90 And stow me in the boat hard by. Suppose us fairly now afloat, Till Boulogne mouth receives our Boat. But, bless us! what a numerous band Of cockneys anglicise the strand! 95 Delinquent bankrupts, leg-bail'd debtors, Some for the news, and some for letters— With hungry look and tarnished dress, French shrugs and British surliness. Sick of the country for their sake 100 Of them and France French leave I take— And lo! a transport comes in view I hear the merry motley crew, Well skill'd in pocket to make entry, Of Dieman's Land the elected Gentry, 105 And founders of Australian Races.— The Rogues! I see it in their faces! Receive me, Lads! I'll go with you, Hunt the black swan and kangaroo, And that New Holland we'll presume 110 Old England with some elbow-room. Across the mountains we will roam, And each man make himself a home: Or, if old habits ne'er forsaking, Like clock-work of the Devil's making, 115 Ourselves inveterate rogues should be, We'll have a virtuous progeny; And on the dunghill of our vices Raise human pine-apples and spices. Of all the children of John Bull 120 With empty heads and bellies full, Who ramble East, West, North and South, With leaky purse and open mouth, In search of varieties exotic The usefullest and most patriotic, 125 And merriest, too, believe me, Sirs! Are your Delinquent Travellers!
1824.
FOOTNOTES:
[443:3] From an hitherto unpublished MS., formerly in the possession of Coleridge's friend and amanuensis Joseph Henry Green.
[444:1] The Private Journal of Captain G. F. Lyon of the Mt. Hecla, during the recent voyage of discovery under Captain Parry, was published by John Murray in 1824. In a letter dated May, 1823, Lucy Caroline Lamb writes to Murray:—'If there is yet time, do tell Captain Lyon, that I, and others far bettor than I am, are enchanted with his book.' Memoirs . . . of John Murray, 1891, i. 145.
[446:1] A coast village near Ramsgate. Coleridge passed some weeks at Ramsgate in the late autumn of 1824.
WORK WITHOUT HOPE[447:1]
LINES COMPOSED 21ST FEBRUARY 1825
All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair— The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing—[447:2] And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, 5 Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! 10 With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll: And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, And Hope without an object cannot live.
1825.
FOOTNOTES:
[447:1] First printed in the Bijou for 1828: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. These lines, as published in the Bijou for 1828, were an excerpt from an entry in a notebook, dated Feb. 21, 1825. They were preceded by a prose introduction, now for the first time printed, and followed by a metrical interpretation or afterthought which was first published in the Notes to the Edition of 1893. For an exact reproduction of the prose and verse as they appear in the notebook, vide Appendices of this edition.
[447:2] Compare the last stanza of George Herbert's Praise:—
O raise me thus! Poor Bees that work all day, Sting my delay, Who have a work as well as they, And much, much more.
LINENOTES:
Title] Lines composed on a day in February. By S. T. Coleridge, Esq. Bijou: Lines composed on the 21st of February, 1827 1828, 1829, 1834.
[1] Slugs] Snails erased MS. S. T. C.: Stags 1828, 1829, 1885.
[11]
{ With unmoist lip and wreathless brow I stroll { With lips unmoisten'd wreathless brow I stroll MS. S. T. C.
SANCTI DOMINICI PALLIUM[448:1]
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN POET AND FRIEND
FOUND WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF AT THE BEGINNING OF BUTLER'S 'BOOK OF THE CHURCH' (1825)
POET
I note the moods and feelings men betray, And heed them more than aught they do or say; The lingering ghosts of many a secret deed Still-born or haply strangled in its birth; These best reveal the smooth man's inward creed! 5 These mark the spot where lies the treasure—Worth!
Milner, made up of impudence and trick,[448:2] With cloven tongue prepared to hiss and lick, Rome's Brazen Serpent—boldly dares discuss The roasting of thy heart, O brave John Huss! 10 And with grim triumph and a truculent glee[448:3] Absolves anew the Pope-wrought perfidy, That made an empire's plighted faith a lie, And fix'd a broad stare on the Devil's eye— (Pleas'd with the guilt, yet envy-stung at heart 15 To stand outmaster'd in his own black art!) Yet Milner—
FRIEND
Enough of Milner! we're agreed, Who now defends would then have done the deed. But who not feels persuasion's gentle sway, Who but must meet the proffered hand half way 20 When courteous Butler—
POET (aside)
(Rome's smooth go-between!)
FRIEND
Laments the advice that soured a milky queen— (For 'bloody' all enlightened men confess An antiquated error of the press:) Who rapt by zeal beyond her sex's bounds, 25 With actual cautery staunched the Church's wounds! And tho' he deems, that with too broad a blur We damn the French and Irish massacre, Yet blames them both—and thinks the Pope might err! What think you now? Boots it with spear and shield 30 Against such gentle foes to take the field Whose beckoning hands the mild Caduceus wield?
POET
What think I now? Even what I thought before;— What Milner boasts though Butler may deplore, Still I repeat, words lead me not astray 35 When the shown feeling points a different way. Smooth Butler can say grace at slander's feast,[449:1] And bless each haut-gout cook'd by monk or priest; Leaves the full lie on Milner's gong to swell, Content with half-truths that do just as well; 40 But duly decks his mitred comrade's flanks,[450:1] And with him shares the Irish nation's thanks!
So much for you, my friend! who own a Church, And would not leave your mother in the lurch! But when a Liberal asks me what I think— 45 Scared by the blood and soot of Cobbett's ink, And Jeffrey's glairy phlegm and Connor's foam, In search of some safe parable I roam— An emblem sometimes may comprise a tome!
Disclaimant of his uncaught grandsire's mood, 50 I see a tiger lapping kitten's food: And who shall blame him that he purs applause, When brother Brindle pleads the good old cause; And frisks his pretty tail, and half unsheathes his claws! Yet not the less, for modern lights unapt, 55 I trust the bolts and cross-bars of the laws More than the Protestant milk all newly lapt, Impearling a tame wild-cat's whisker'd jaws!
1825, or 1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[448:1] First published in the Evening Standard, May 21, 1827. 'The poem signed ESTSE appeared likewise in the St. James's Chronicle.' See Letter of S. T. C. to J. Blanco White, dated Nov. 28, 1827. Life, 1845, i. 439, 440. First collected in 1834. I have amended the text of 1834 in lines 7, 17, 34, 39 in accordance with a MS. in the possession of the poet's granddaughter, Miss Edith Coleridge. The poem as published in 1834 and every subsequent edition (except 1907) is meaningless. Southey's Book of the Church, 1825, was answered by Charles Butler's Book of the Roman Catholic Church, 1825, and in an anonymous pamphlet by the Vicar Apostolic, Dr. John Milner, entitled Merlin's Strictures. Southey retaliated in his Vindiciae Ecclesiae Anglicanae, 1826. In the latter work he addresses Butler as 'an honourable and courteous opponent'—and contrasts his 'habitual urbanity' with the malignant and scurrilous attacks of that 'ill-mannered man', Dr. Milner. In the 'Dialogue' the poet reminds his 'Friend' Southey that Rome is Rome, a 'brazen serpent', charm she never so wisely. In the Vindiciae Southey devotes pp. 470-506 to an excursus on 'The Rosary'—the invention of St. Dominic. Hence the title—'Sancti Dominici Pallium'.
[448:2] These lines were written before this Prelate's decease. Standard, 1827.
[448:3] Trŭcŭlĕnt: a tribrach as the isochronous substitute for the Trochee [macron breve]. N. B. If our accent, a quality of sound were actually equivalent to the Quantity in the Greek [macron breve macron], or dactyl [macron breve breve] at least. But it is not so, accent shortens syllables: thus Spīrĭt, sprite; Hŏnĕy, mŏnĕy, nŏbŏdy, &c. MS. S. T. C.
[449:1] 'Smooth Butler.' See the Rev. Blanco White's Letter to C. Butler, Esq. MS. S. T. C., Sd. 1827.
[450:1] 'Your coadjutor the Titular Bishop Milner'—Bishop of Castabala I had called him, till I learnt from the present pamphlet that he had been translated to the see of Billingsgate.' Vind. Ecl. Angl. 1826, p. 228, note.
LINENOTES:
Title]—A dialogue written on a Blank Page of Butler's Book of the Roman Catholic Church. Sd. 1827.
[7] Milner] —— 1834, 1852: Butler 1893.
[17] Milner—Milner] ——, —— 1834, 1852: Butler—Butler 1893. Yet Milner] Yet Miln— Sd. 1827.
[25] Who with a zeal that passed Sd. 1827.
[30] spear] helm Sd. 1827.
[32] beckoning] proffered Sd. 1827.
[34] Milner] —— 1834, 1852: Butler 1893. boasts] lauds Sd. 1827.
[35] repeat] reply Sd. 1827.
[38] or] and Sd. 1827.
[39] Milner's] ——'s 1834, 1852: Butler's 1893.
[42] Irish] the O'Gorman MS. S. T. C., Sd. 1827.
[46] blood and soot] soot and blood Sd. 1827.
[55] lights] sights Sd. 1827.
SONG[450:2]
Though veiled in spires of myrtle-wreath, Love is a sword which cuts its sheath, And through the clefts itself has made, We spy the flashes of the blade! But through the clefts itself has made 5 We likewise see Love's flashing blade, By rust consumed, or snapt in twain; And only hilt and stump remain.
? 1825.
FOOTNOTES:
[450:2] First published in 1828: included in 1852, 1885, and 1893. A MS. version (undated) is inscribed in a notebook.
LINENOTES:
Title] Love, a Sword 1893.
[1] Tho' hid in spiral myrtle wreath MS.
[2] which] that MS.
[3] slits itself hath made MS.
[4] flashes] glitter MS.
[5] clefts] slits MS.
[6-8]
We spy no less, too, that the Blade, Is cut away or snapt atwain And nought but Hilt or Stump remain.
MS.
A CHARACTER[451:1]
A bird, who for his other sins Had liv'd amongst the Jacobins; Though like a kitten amid rats, Or callow tit in nest of bats, He much abhorr'd all democrats; 5 Yet nathless stood in ill report Of wishing ill to Church and Court, Tho' he'd nor claw, nor tooth, nor sting, And learnt to pipe God save the King; Tho' each day did new feathers bring, 10 All swore he had a leathern wing; Nor polish'd wing, nor feather'd tail, Nor down-clad thigh would aught avail; And tho'—his tongue devoid of gall— He civilly assur'd them all:— 15 'A bird am I of Phoebus' breed, And on the sunflower cling and feed; My name, good Sirs, is Thomas Tit!' The bats would hail him Brother Cit, Or, at the furthest, cousin-german. 20 At length the matter to determine, He publicly denounced the vermin; He spared the mouse, he praised the owl; But bats were neither flesh nor fowl. Blood-sucker, vampire, harpy, goul, 25 Came in full clatter from his throat, Till his old nest-mates chang'd their note To hireling, traitor, and turncoat,— A base apostate who had sold His very teeth and claws for gold;— 30 And then his feathers!—sharp the jest— No doubt he feather'd well his nest! 'A Tit indeed! aye, tit for tat— With place and title, brother Bat, We soon shall see how well he'll play 35 Count Goldfinch, or Sir Joseph Jay!' Alas, poor Bird! and ill-bestarr'd— Or rather let us say, poor Bard! And henceforth quit the allegoric, With metaphor and simile, 40 For simple facts and style historic:— Alas, poor Bard! no gold had he; Behind another's team he stept, And plough'd and sow'd, while others reapt; The work was his, but theirs the glory, 45 Sic vos non vobis, his whole story. Besides, whate'er he wrote or said Came from his heart as well as head; And though he never left in lurch His king, his country, or his church, 50 'Twas but to humour his own cynical Contempt of doctrines Jacobinical; To his own conscience only hearty, 'Twas but by chance he serv'd the party;— The self-same things had said and writ, 55 Had Pitt been Fox, and Fox been Pitt; Content his own applause to win, Would never dash thro' thick and thin, And he can make, so say the wise, No claim who makes no sacrifice;— 60 And bard still less:—what claim had he, Who swore it vex'd his soul to see So grand a cause, so proud a realm, With Goose and Goody at the helm; Who long ago had fall'n asunder 65 But for their rivals' baser blunder, The coward whine and Frenchified Slaver and slang of the other side?—
Thus, his own whim his only bribe, Our Bard pursued his old A. B. C. 70 Contented if he could subscribe In fullest sense his name Estse; ('Tis Punic Greek for 'he hath stood!') Whate'er the men, the cause was good; And therefore with a right good will, 75 Poor fool, he fights their battles still. Tush! squeak'd the Bats;—a mere bravado To whitewash that base renegado; 'Tis plain unless you're blind or mad, His conscience for the bays he barters;— 80 And true it is—as true as sad— These circlets of green baize he had— But then, alas! they were his garters! Ah! silly Bard, unfed, untended, His lamp but glimmer'd in its socket; 85 He lived unhonour'd and unfriended With scarce a penny in his pocket;— Nay—tho' he hid it from the many— With scarce a pocket for his penny!
1825.
FOOTNOTES:
[451:1] First published in 1834. It is probable that the immediate provocation of these lines was the publication of Hazlitt's character-sketch of Coleridge in The Spirit of the Age, 1825, pp. 57-75. Lines 1-7, 49, 50, 84, 89 are quoted by J. Payne Collier (An Old Man's Diary, Oct. 20, 1833, Pt. IV, p. 56) from a MS. presented by Charles Lamb to Martin Burney. A fragmentary MS. with the lines in different order is in the British Museum.
LINENOTES:
Title] A Trifle MS. J. P. C.
[1] for] 'mongst MS. B. M.
[2] amongst] among J. P. C.
[3] amid] among J. P. C.
[5] all] the J. P. C.
[6] ill] bad J. P. C.
[7] Of ill to Church as well as Court J. P. C.
[11] had a] had but a MS. B. M.
[22] denounced] disowned MS. B. M.
[31] sharp] smoke MS. B. M.
[36] Joseph] Judas MS. B. M.
[69-74]
Yet still pursu'd thro' scoff and gibe From A. to Z. his old A. B. C. Content that he could still subscribe In symbol just his name ESTSE; (In punic Greek that's He hath stood:) Whate'er the men, the cause was good.
MS. B. M.
[84] Ah! silly bird and unregarded J. P. C.: Poor witless Bard, unfed, untended MS. B. M.
[86] He liv'd unpraised, and unfriended MS. B. M.: unfriended] discarded J. P. C.
[87] With scarce] Without J. P. C.
THE TWO FOUNTS[454:1]
STANZAS ADDRESSED TO A LADY ON HER RECOVERY WITH UNBLEMISHED LOOKS, FROM A SEVERE ATTACK OF PAIN
'Twas my last waking thought, how it could be That thou, sweet friend, such anguish should'st endure; When straight from Dreamland came a Dwarf, and he Could tell the cause, forsooth, and knew the cure.
Methought he fronted me with peering look 5 Fix'd on my heart; and read aloud in game The loves and griefs therein, as from a book: And uttered praise like one who wished to blame.
In every heart (quoth he) since Adam's sin Two Founts there are, of Suffering and of Cheer! 10 That to let forth, and this to keep within! But she, whose aspect I find imaged here,
Of Pleasure only will to all dispense, That Fount alone unlock, by no distress Choked or turned inward, but still issue thence 15 Unconquered cheer, persistent loveliness.
As on the driving cloud the shiny bow, That gracious thing made up of tears and light, Mid the wild rack and rain that slants below Stands smiling forth, unmoved and freshly bright; 20
As though the spirits of all lovely flowers, Inweaving each its wreath and dewy crown, Or ere they sank to earth in vernal showers, Had built a bridge to tempt the angels down.
Even so, Eliza! on that face of thine, 25 On that benignant face, whose look alone (The soul's translucence thro' her crystal shrine!) Has power to soothe all anguish but thine own,
A beauty hovers still, and ne'er takes wing, But with a silent charm compels the stern 30 And tort'ring Genius of the bitter spring, To shrink aback, and cower upon his urn.
Who then needs wonder, if (no outlet found In passion, spleen, or strife) the Fount of Pain O'erflowing beats against its lovely mound, 35 And in wild flashes shoots from heart to brain?
Sleep, and the Dwarf with that unsteady gleam On his raised lip, that aped a critic smile, Had passed: yet I, my sad thoughts to beguile, Lay weaving on the tissue of my dream; 40
Till audibly at length I cried, as though Thou hadst indeed been present to my eyes, O sweet, sweet sufferer; if the case be so, I pray thee, be less good, less sweet, less wise!
In every look a barbd arrow send, 45 On those soft lips let scorn and anger live! Do any thing, rather than thus, sweet friend! Hoard for thyself the pain, thou wilt not give!
1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[454:1] First published in the Annual Register for 1827: reprinted in the Bijou for 1828: included in 1828, 1829, 1834. 'In Gilchrist's Life of Blake (1863, i. 337) it is stated that this poem was addressed to Mrs. Aders, the daughter of the engraver Raphael Smith.' P. W., 1892, p. 642.
LINENOTES:
Title]: Stanzas addressed to a Lady on her Recovery from a Severe attack of Pain Annual Register.
[11] That—this] That—this 1828, 1829.
[14] That] That 1828, 1829.
[16-17] In a MS. dated 1826, the following stanza precedes stanza 5 of the text:—
Was ne'er on earth seen beauty like to this. A concentrated satisfying sight! In its deep quiet, ask no further bliss— At once the form and substance of delight.
[19-20]
Looks forth upon the troubled air below Unmov'd, entire, inviolably bright.
MS. 1826.
[31] tort'ring] fost'ring Annual Register, Bijou.
[44] less—less—less] less—less—less 1828, 1829.
[47] any] any 1828, 1829.
CONSTANCY TO AN IDEAL OBJECT[455:1]
Since all that beat about in Nature's range, Or veer or vanish; why should'st thou remain The only constant in a world of change, O yearning Thought! that liv'st but in the brain? Call to the Hours, that in the distance play, 5 The faery people of the future day—— Fond Thought! not one of all that shining swarm Will breathe on thee with life-enkindling breath, Till when, like strangers shelt'ring from a storm,[456:1] Hope and Despair meet in the porch of Death! 10 Yet still thou haunt'st me; and though well I see, She is not thou, and only thou art she, Still, still as though some dear embodied Good, Some living Love before my eyes there stood With answering look a ready ear to lend, 15 I mourn to thee and say—'Ah! loveliest friend! That this the meed of all my toils might be, To have a home, an English home, and thee!' Vain repetition! Home and Thou are one. The peacefull'st cot, the moon shall shine upon, 20 Lulled by the thrush and wakened by the lark, Without thee were but a becalmd bark, Whose Helmsman on an ocean waste and wide Sits mute and pale his mouldering helm beside.
And art thou nothing? Such thou art, as when 25 The woodman winding westward up the glen At wintry dawn, where o'er the sheep-track's maze The viewless snow-mist weaves a glist'ning haze, Sees full before him, gliding without tread, An image[456:2] with a glory round its head; 30 The enamoured rustic worships its fair hues, Nor knows he makes the shadow, he pursues!
? 1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[455:1] There is no evidence as to date of composition. J. D. Campbell (1893, p. 635) believed that it 'was written at Malta'. Line 18 seems to imply that the poem was not written in England. On the other hand a comparison of ll. 9, 10 with a passage in the Allegoric Vision, which was re-written with large additions, and first published in 1817, suggests a much later date. The editors of 1852 include these lines among 'Poems written in Later Life', but the date (? 1826) now assigned is purely conjectural. First published in 1828: included in 1829 and 1834.
[456:1] With lines 9, 10 J. D. Campbell compares, 'After a pause of silence: even thus, said he, like two strangers that have fled to the same shelter from the same storm, not seldom do Despair and Hope meet for the first time in the porch of Death.' Allegoric Vision (1798-1817); vide Appendices of this edition.
[456:2] This phenomenon, which the Author has himself experienced, and of which the reader may find a description in one of the earlier volumes of the Manchester Philosophical Transactions, is applied figuratively to the following passage in the Aids to Reflection:—
'Pindar's fine remark respecting the different effects of Music, on different characters, holds equally true of Genius—as many as are not delighted by it are disturbed, perplexed, irritated. The beholder either recognises it as a projected form of his own Being, that moves before him with a Glory round its head, or recoils from it as a Spectre.'—Aids to Reflection [1825], p. 220.
LINENOTES:
[8] thee] thee 1828, 1829.
[13] embodied] embodied 1828, 1829.
[14] living] living 1828, 1829.
[32] makes] makes 1828, 1829.
THE PANG MORE SHARP THAN ALL[457:1]
AN ALLEGORY
I
He too has flitted from his secret nest, Hope's last and dearest child without a name!— Has flitted from me, like the warmthless flame, That makes false promise of a place of rest To the tired Pilgrim's still believing mind;— 5 Or like some Elfin Knight in kingly court, Who having won all guerdons in his sport, Glides out of view, and whither none can find!
II
Yes! he hath flitted from me—with what aim, Or why, I know not! 'Twas a home of bliss, 10 And he was innocent, as the pretty shame Of babe, that tempts and shuns the menaced kiss, From its twy-cluster'd hiding place of snow! Pure as the babe, I ween, and all aglow As the dear hopes, that swell the mother's breast— 15 Her eyes down gazing o'er her claspd charge;— Yet gay as that twice happy father's kiss, That well might glance aside, yet never miss, Where the sweet mark emboss'd so sweet a targe— Twice wretched he who hath been doubly blest! 20
III
Like a loose blossom on a gusty night He flitted from me—and has left behind (As if to them his faith he ne'er did plight) Of either sex and answerable mind Two playmates, twin-births of his foster-dame:— 25 The one a steady lad (Esteem he hight) And Kindness is the gentler sister's name. Dim likeness now, though fair she be and good, Of that bright Boy who hath us all forsook;— But in his full-eyed aspect when she stood, 30 And while her face reflected every look, And in reflection kindled—she became So like Him, that almost she seem'd the same!
IV
Ah! he is gone, and yet will not depart!— Is with me still, yet I from him exiled! 35 For still there lives within my secret heart The magic image of the magic Child, Which there he made up-grow by his strong art, As in that crystal[458:1] orb—wise Merlin's feat,— The wondrous 'World of Glass,' wherein inisled 40 All long'd-for things their beings did repeat;— And there he left it, like a Sylph beguiled, To live and yearn and languish incomplete!
V
Can wit of man a heavier grief reveal? Can sharper pang from hate or scorn arise?— 45 Yes! one more sharp there is that deeper lies, Which fond Esteem but mocks when he would heal. Yet neither scorn nor hate did it devise, But sad compassion and atoning zeal! One pang more blighting-keen than hope betray'd! 50 And this it is my woeful hap to feel, When, at her Brother's hest, the twin-born Maid With face averted and unsteady eyes, Her truant playmate's faded robe puts on; And inly shrinking from her own disguise 55 Enacts the faery Boy that's lost and gone. O worse than all! O pang all pangs above Is Kindness counterfeiting absent Love!
? 1825-6.
FOOTNOTES:
[457:1] First published in 1834. With lines 36-43, and with the poem as a whole, compare the following fragments of uncertain date, which were first published in a note to the edition of 1893. Both the poem as completed and these fragments of earlier drafts seem to belong to the last decade of the poet's life. The water-mark of the scrap of paper on which these drafts are written is 1819, but the tone and workmanship of the verse suggest a much later date, possibly 1826.
'—— into my Heart The magic Child as in a magic glass Transfused, and ah! he left within my Heart A loving Image and a counterpart.'
'—— into my Heart As 'twere some magic Glass the magic child Transfused his Image and full counterpart; And then he left it like a Sylph beguiled To live and yearn and languish incomplete! Day following day, more rugged grows my path. There dwells a cloud before my heavy eyes; A Blank my Heart, and Hope is dead and buried, Yet the deep yearning will not die; but Love Clings on and cloathes the marrowless remains, Like the fresh moss that grows on dead men's bones, Quaint mockery! and fills its scarlet cups With the chill dewdamps of the Charnel House. O ask not for my Heart! my Heart is but The darksome vault where Hope lies dead and buried, And Love with Asbest Lamp bewails the Corse.'
[458:1] Faerie Queene, b. iii. c. 2, s. 19.
DUTY SURVIVING SELF-LOVE[459:1]
THE ONLY SURE FRIEND OF DECLINING LIFE
A SOLILOQUY
Unchanged within, to see all changed without, Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt. Yet why at others' wanings should'st thou fret? Then only might'st thou feel a just regret, Hadst thou withheld thy love or hid thy light 5 In selfish forethought of neglect and slight. O wiselier then, from feeble yearnings freed, While, and on whom, thou may'st—shine on! nor heed Whether the object by reflected light Return thy radiance or absorb it quite: 10 And though thou notest from thy safe recess Old Friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air, Love them for what they are; nor love them less, Because to thee they are not what they were.
1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[459:1] First published in 1828: included in 1829 and 1834. The MS. of the first draft, dated Sept. 2, 1826, is preceded by the following introductory note:—
'QUESTION, ANSWER, AND SOLILOQUY.
And are you (said Alia to Constantius, on whose head sickness and sorrow had antedated Winter, ere yet the time of Vintage had passed), Are you the happier for your Philosophy? And the smile of Constantius was as the light from a purple cluster of the vine, gleaming through snowflakes, as he replied, The Boons of Philosophy are of higher worth, than what you, O Alia, mean by Happiness. But I will not seem to evade the question—Am I the happier for my Philosophy? The calmer at least and the less unhappy, answered Constantius, for it has enabled me to find that selfless Reason is the best Comforter, and only sure friend of declining Life. At this moment the sounds of a carriage followed by the usual bravura executed on the brazen knocker announced a morning visit: and Alia hastened to receive the party. Meantime the grey-haired philosopher, left to his own musings, continued playing with the thoughts that Alia and Alia's question had excited, till he murmured them to himself in half audible words, which at first casually, and then for the amusement of his ear, he punctuated with rhymes, without however conceiting that he had by these means changed them into poetry.'
LINENOTES:
[4] When thy own body first the example set. MS. S. T. C.
[5-11] om. MS. S. T. C.
[8] While—on whom] While—on whom 1828, 1829.
[9] object] Body MS. S. T. C.
[13] are] are 1828, 1829.
[14] thee—were] thee—were 1828, 1829.
HOMELESS[460:1]
'O! Christmas Day, Oh! happy day! A foretaste from above, To him who hath a happy home And love returned from love!'
O! Christmas Day, O gloomy day, 5 The barb in Memory's dart, To him who walks alone through Life, The desolate in heart.
1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[460:1] First published in the Literary Magnet, January, 1827, p. 71. First collected in 1893. A transcript, possibly in Mrs. Gillman's handwriting, is inscribed on the fly-leaf of a copy of Bartram's Travels in South Carolina which Coleridge purchased in April 1818. J. D. Campbell prefixed the title 'Homeless', and assigned 1810 as a conjectural date. Attention was first called to publication in the Literary Magnet by Mr. Bertram Dobell in the Athenaeum.
LINENOTES:
Title] An Impromptu on Christmas Day L. M. 1827.
[4] from] for L. M. 1827.
LINES[460:2]
SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS OF BERENGARIUS
OB. ANNO DOM. 1088
No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope Soon shall I now before my God appear, By him to be acquitted, as I hope; By him to be condemnd, as I fear.—
REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE
Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed, 5 Be of good cheer, meek soul! I would have said: I see a hope spring from that humble fear. All are not strong alike through storms to steer Right onward. What? though dread of threatened death And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath 10 Inconstant to the truth within thy heart! That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice didst start, Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife, Or not so vital as to claim thy life: And myriads had reached Heaven, who never knew 15 Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true!
Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your own, Judge him who won them when he stood alone, And proudly talk of recreant Berengare— O first the age, and then the man compare! 20 That age how dark! congenial minds how rare! No host of friends with kindred zeal did burn! No throbbing hearts awaited his return! Prostrate alike when prince and peasant fell, He only disenchanted from the spell, 25 Like the weak worm that gems the starless night, Moved in the scanty circlet of his light: And was it strange if he withdrew the ray That did but guide the night-birds to their prey? |
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