The ascending day-star with a bolder eye 30 Hath lit each dew-drop on our trimmer lawn! Yet not for this, if wise, shall we decry The spots and struggles of the timid Dawn; Lest so we tempt th' approaching Noon to scorn The mists and painted vapours of our Morn. 35

? 1826.

FOOTNOTES:

[460:2] First published in the Literary Souvenir, 1827. The Epitaphium Testamentarium (vide post, p. 462) is printed in a footnote to the word 'Berengarius'. Included in 1828, 1829, and 1834.

LINENOTES:

[13] learned] learned L. S.

[19] recreant] recreant L. S., 1828, 1829.

[23] his] his L. S.

[32] shall] will L. S., 1828, 1829.

[34] th' approaching] the coming L. S.



EPITAPHIUM TESTAMENTARIUM[462:1]

To tou ESTSE tou epithanous Epitaphium testamentarium autographon.

Quae linquam, aut nihil, aut nihili, aut vix sunt mea. Sordes Do Morti: reddo caetera, Christe! tibi.

1826.

Ers aei lalthros hetairos[462:2]

In many ways does the full heart reveal The presence of the love it would conceal; But in far more th' estrangd heart lets know The absence of the love, which yet it fain would shew.

1826.

FOOTNOTES:

[462:1] First published in Literary Souvenir of 1827, as footnote to title of the Lines Suggested by the Last Words of Berengarius: included in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 60: first collected in 1844.

[462:2] This quatrain was prefixed as a motto to 'Prose in Rhyme; and Epigrams, Moralities, and Things without a Name', the concluding section of 'Poems' in the edition of 1828, 1829, vol. ii, pp. 75-117. It was prefixed to 'Miscellaneous Poems' in 1834, vol. ii, pp. 55-152, and to 'Poems written in Later Life', 1852, pp. 319-78.

LINENOTES:

Title] EPITAPHION AUTOGRAPTON L. R., 1844: epithanous] epidanous L. S.

The emendation epithanous (i. e. moribund) was suggested by the Reader of Macmillan's edition of 1893. Other alternatives, e. g. epideuous (the lacking), to the word as misprinted in the Literary Souvenir have been suggested, but there can be no doubt that what Coleridge intended to imply was that he was near his end.

Greek motto: Ers aei lalos MS. S. T. C.

[1-4]

In many ways I own do we reveal. The Presence of the Love we would conceal, But in how many more do we let know The absence of the Love we found would show.

MS. S. T. C.



THE IMPROVISATORE[462:3]

OR, 'JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO, JOHN'

Scene—A spacious drawing-room, with music-room adjoining.

Katharine. What are the words?

Eliza. Ask our friend, the Improvisatore; here he comes. Kate has a favour to ask of you, Sir; it is that you will repeat the ballad[463:1] that Mr. —— sang so sweetly.

Friend. It is in Moore's Irish Melodies; but I do not recollect the words distinctly. The moral of them, however, I take to be this:—

Love would remain the same if true, When we were neither young nor new; Yea, and in all within the will that came, By the same proofs would show itself the same.

Eliz. What are the lines you repeated from Beaumont and Fletcher, which my mother admired so much? It begins with something about two vines so close that their tendrils intermingle.

Fri. You mean Charles' speech to Angelina, in The Elder Brother[463:2].

We'll live together, like two neighbour vines, Circling our souls and loves in one another! We'll spring together, and we'll bear one fruit; One joy shall make us smile, and one grief mourn; One age go with us, and one hour of death Shall close our eyes, and one grave make us happy.

Kath. A precious boon, that would go far to reconcile one to old age—this love—if true! But is there any such true love?

Fri. I hope so.

Kath. But do you believe it?

Eliz. (eagerly). I am sure he does.

Fri. From a man turned of fifty, Katharine, I imagine, expects a less confident answer.

Kath. A more sincere one, perhaps.

Fri. Even though he should have obtained the nick-name of Improvisatore, by perpetrating charades and extempore verses at Christmas times?

Eliz. Nay, but be serious.

Fri. Serious! Doubtless. A grave personage of my years giving a Love-lecture to two young ladies, cannot well be otherwise. The difficulty, I suspect, would be for them to remain so. It will be asked whether I am not the 'elderly gentleman' who sate 'despairing beside a clear stream', with a willow for his wig-block.

Eliz. Say another word, and we will call it downright affectation.

Kath. No! we will be affronted, drop a courtesy, and ask pardon for our presumption in expecting that Mr. —— would waste his sense on two insignificant girls.

Fri. Well, well, I will be serious. Hem! Now then commences the discourse; Mr. Moore's song being the text. Love, as distinguished from Friendship, on the one hand, and from the passion that too often usurps its name, on the other—

Lucius (Eliza's brother, who had just joined the trio, in a whisper to the Friend). But is not Love the union of both?

Fri. (aside to Lucius). He never loved who thinks so.

Eliz. Brother, we don't want you. There! Mrs. H. cannot arrange the flower vase without you. Thank you, Mrs. Hartman.

Luc. I'll have my revenge! I know what I will say!

Eliz. Off! Off! Now, dear Sir,—Love, you were saying—

Fri. Hush! Preaching, you mean, Eliza.

Eliz. (impatiently). Pshaw!

Fri. Well then, I was saying that Love, truly such, is itself not the most common thing in the world: and mutual love still less so. But that enduring personal attachment, so beautifully delineated by Erin's sweet melodist, and still more touchingly, perhaps, in the well-known ballad, 'John Anderson, my Jo, John,' in addition to a depth and constancy of character of no every-day occurrence, supposes a peculiar sensibility and tenderness of nature; a constitutional communicativeness and utterancy of heart and soul; a delight in the detail of sympathy, in the outward and visible signs of the sacrament within—to count, as it were, the pulses of the life of love. But above all, it supposes a soul which, even in the pride and summer-tide of life—even in the lustihood of health and strength, had felt oftenest and prized highest that which age cannot take away and which, in all our lovings, is the Love;—

Eliz. There is something here (pointing to her heart) that seems to understand you, but wants the word that would make it understand itself.

Kath. I, too, seem to feel what you mean. Interpret the feeling for us.

Fri. —— I mean that willing sense of the insufficingness of the self for itself, which predisposes a generous nature to see, in the total being of another, the supplement and completion of its own;—that quiet perpetual seeking which the presence of the beloved object modulates, not suspends, where the heart momently finds, and, finding, again seeks on;—lastly, when 'life's changeful orb has pass'd the full', a confirmed faith in the nobleness of humanity, thus brought home and pressed, as it were, to the very bosom of hourly experience; it supposes, I say, a heartfelt reverence for worth, not the less deep because divested of its solemnity by habit, by familiarity, by mutual infirmities, and even by a feeling of modesty which will arise in delicate minds, when they are conscious of possessing the same or the correspondent excellence in their own characters. In short, there must be a mind, which, while it feels the beautiful and the excellent in the beloved as its own, and by right of love appropriates it, can call Goodness its Playfellow; and dares make sport of time and infirmity, while, in the person of a thousand-foldly endeared partner, we feel for aged Virtue the caressing fondness that belongs to the Innocence of childhood, and repeat the same attentions and tender courtesies which had been dictated by the same affection to the same object when attired in feminine loveliness or in manly beauty.

Eliz. What a soothing—what an elevating idea!

Kath. If it be not only an idea.

Fri. At all events, these qualities which I have enumerated, are rarely found united in a single individual. How much more rare must it be, that two such individuals should meet together in this wide world under circumstances that admit of their union as Husband and Wife. A person may be highly estimable on the whole, nay, amiable as neighbour, friend, housemate—in short, in all the concentric circles of attachment save only the last and inmost; and yet from how many causes be estranged from the highest perfection in this! Pride, coldness, or fastidiousness of nature, worldly cares, an anxious or ambitious disposition, a passion for display, a sullen temper,—one or the other—too often proves 'the dead fly in the compost of spices', and any one is enough to unfit it for the precious balm of unction. For some mighty good sort of people, too, there is not seldom a sort of solemn saturnine, or, if you will, ursine vanity, that keeps itself alive by sucking the paws of its own self-importance. And as this high sense, or rather sensation of their own value is, for the most part, grounded on negative qualities, so they have no better means of preserving the same but by negatives—that is, by not doing or saying any thing, that might be put down for fond, silly, or nonsensical;—or (to use their own phrase) by never forgetting themselves, which some of their acquaintance are uncharitable enough to think the most worthless object they could be employed in remembering.

Eliz. (in answer to a whisper from Katharine). To a hair! He must have sate for it himself. Save me from such folks! But they are out of the question.

Fri. True! but the same effect is produced in thousands by the too general insensibility to a very important truth; this, namely, that the MISERY of human life is made up of large masses, each separated from the other by certain intervals. One year, the death of a child; years after, a failure in trade; after another longer or shorter interval, a daughter may have married unhappily;—in all but the singularly unfortunate, the integral parts that compose the sum total of the unhappiness of a man's life, are easily counted, and distinctly remembered. The HAPPINESS of life, on the contrary, is made up of minute fractions—the little, soon-forgotten charities of a kiss, a smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment in the disguise of playful raillery, and the countless other infinitesimals of pleasurable thought and genial feeling.

Kath. Well, Sir; you have said quite enough to make me despair of finding a 'John Anderson, my Jo, John', with whom to totter down the hill of life.

Fri. Not so! Good men are not, I trust, so much scarcer than good women, but that what another would find in you, you may hope to find in another. But well, however, may that boon be rare, the possession of which would be more than an adequate reward for the rarest virtue.

Eliz. Surely, he, who has described it so well, must have possessed it?

Fri. If he were worthy to have possessed it, and had believingly anticipated and not found it, how bitter the disappointment!

(Then, after a pause of a few minutes).

ANSWER, ex improviso

Yes, yes! that boon, life's richest treat He had, or fancied that he had; Say, 'twas but in his own conceit— The fancy made him glad! Crown of his cup, and garnish of his dish! 5 The boon, prefigured in his earliest wish, The fair fulfilment of his poesy, When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy! But e'en the meteor offspring of the brain Unnourished wane; 10 Faith asks her daily bread, And Fancy must be fed! Now so it chanced—from wet or dry, It boots not how—I know not why— She missed her wonted food; and quickly 15 Poor Fancy stagger'd and grew sickly. Then came a restless state, 'twixt yea and nay, His faith was fix'd, his heart all ebb and flow; Or like a bark, in some half-shelter'd bay, Above its anchor driving to and fro. 20

That boon, which but to have possess'd In a belief, gave life a zest— Uncertain both what it had been, And if by error lost, or luck; And what it was;—an evergreen 25 Which some insidious blight had struck, Or annual flower, which, past its blow, No vernal spell shall e'er revive; Uncertain, and afraid to know, Doubts toss'd him to and fro: 30 Hope keeping Love, Love Hope alive, Like babes bewildered in a snow, That cling and huddle from the cold In hollow tree or ruin'd fold.

Those sparkling colours, once his boast 35 Fading, one by one away, Thin and hueless as a ghost, Poor Fancy on her sick bed lay; Ill at distance, worse when near, Telling her dreams to jealous Fear! 40 Where was it then, the sociable sprite That crown'd the Poet's cup and deck'd his dish! Poor shadow cast from an unsteady wish, Itself a substance by no other right But that it intercepted Reason's light; 45 It dimm'd his eye, it darken'd on his brow, A peevish mood, a tedious time, I trow! Thank Heaven! 'tis not so now.

O bliss of blissful hours! The boon of Heaven's decreeing, 50 While yet in Eden's bowers Dwelt the first husband and his sinless mate! The one sweet plant, which, piteous Heaven agreeing, They bore with them thro' Eden's closing gate! Of life's gay summer tide the sovran Rose! 55 Late autumn's Amaranth, that more fragrant blows When Passion's flowers all fall or fade; If this were ever his, in outward being, Or but his own true love's projected shade, Now that at length by certain proof he knows, 60 That whether real or a magic show, Whate'er it was, it is no longer so; Though heart be lonesome, Hope laid low, Yet, Lady! deem him not unblest: The certainty that struck Hope dead, 65 Hath left Contentment in her stead: And that is next to Best!

1827.

FOOTNOTES:

[462:3] First published in the Amulet for 1828 (with a prose introduction entitled 'New Thoughts on Old Subjects; or Conversational Dialogues on Interests and Events of Common Life.' By S. T. Coleridge): included in 1829 and 1834. The text of 1834 is identical with that of the Amulet, 1828, but the italics in the prose dialogue were not reproduced. They have been replaced in the text of the present issue. The title may have been suggested by L. E. L.'s Improvisatrice published in 1824.

[463:1] 'Believe me if all those endearing young charms.'

[463:2] See Beaumont and Fletcher, The Elder Brother, Act III, Scene v. In the original the lines are printed as prose. In line 1 of the quotation Coleridge has substituted 'neighbour' for 'wanton', and in line 6, 'close' for 'shut'.



TO MARY PRIDHAM[468:1]

[AFTERWARDS MRS. DERWENT COLERIDGE]

Dear tho' unseen! tho' I have left behind Life's gayer views and all that stirs the mind, Now I revive, Hope making a new start, Since I have heard with most believing heart, That all my glad eyes would grow bright to see, 5 My Derwent hath found realiz'd in thee, The boon prefigur'd in his earliest wish Crown of his cup and garnish of his dish! The fair fulfilment of his poesy, When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy! 10 Dear tho' unseen! unseen, yet long portray'd! A Father's blessing on thee, gentle Maid! S. T. COLERIDGE.

16th October 1827.

FOOTNOTES:

[468:1] First published in 1893. Lines 7-10 are borrowed from lines 5-8 of the 'Answer ex improviso', which forms part of the Improvisatore (ll. 7, 8 are transposed). An original MS. is inscribed on the first page of an album presented to Mrs. Derwent Coleridge on her marriage, by her husband's friend, the Reverend John Moultrie. The editor of P. W., 1893, printed from another MS. dated Grove, Highgate, 15th October, 1827.

LINENOTES:

Title]: To Mary S. Pridham MS. S. T. C.

[1-3]

Dear tho' unseen! tho' hard has been my lot And rough my path thro' life, I murmur not— Rather rejoice—

MS. S. T. C.

[5] That all this shaping heart has yearned to see MS. S. T. C.

[8] his] the MS. S. T. C. his] the MS. S. T. C.



ALICE DU CLOS[469:1]

OR THE FORKED TONGUE

A BALLAD

'One word with two meanings is the traitor's shield and shaft: and a slit tongue be his blazon!'—Caucasian Proverb.

'The Sun is not yet risen, But the dawn lies red on the dew: Lord Julian has stolen from the hunters away, Is seeking, Lady! for you. Put on your dress of green, 5 Your buskins and your quiver: Lord Julian is a hasty man, Long waiting brook'd he never. I dare not doubt him, that he means To wed you on a day, 10 Your lord and master for to be, And you his lady gay. O Lady! throw your book aside! I would not that my Lord should chide.'

Thus spake Sir Hugh the vassal knight 15 To Alice, child of old Du Clos, As spotless fair, as airy light As that moon-shiny doe, The gold star on its brow, her sire's ancestral crest! For ere the lark had left his nest, 20 She in the garden bower below Sate loosely wrapt in maiden white, Her face half drooping from the sight, A snow-drop on a tuft of snow!

O close your eyes, and strive to see 25 The studious maid, with book on knee,— Ah! earliest-open'd flower; While yet with keen unblunted light The morning star shone opposite The lattice of her bower— 30 Alone of all the starry host, As if in prideful scorn Of flight and fear he stay'd behind, To brave th' advancing morn.

O! Alice could read passing well, 35 And she was conning then Dan Ovid's mazy tale of loves, And gods, and beasts, and men.

The vassal's speech, his taunting vein, It thrill'd like venom thro' her brain; 40 Yet never from the book She rais'd her head, nor did she deign The knight a single look.

'Off, traitor friend! how dar'st thou fix Thy wanton gaze on me? 45 And why, against my earnest suit, Does Julian send by thee? 'Go, tell thy Lord, that slow is sure: Fair speed his shafts to-day! I follow here a stronger lure, 50 And chase a gentler prey.'

She said: and with a baleful smile The vassal knight reel'd off— Like a huge billow from a bark Toil'd in the deep sea-trough, 55 That shouldering sideways in mid plunge, Is travers'd by a flash. And staggering onward, leaves the ear With dull and distant crash.

And Alice sate with troubled mien 60 A moment; for the scoff was keen, And thro' her veins did shiver! Then rose and donn'd her dress of green, Her buskins and her quiver.

There stands the flow'ring may-thorn tree! 65 From thro' the veiling mist you see The black and shadowy stem;— Smit by the sun the mist in glee Dissolves to lightsome jewelry— Each blossom hath its gem! 70

With tear-drop glittering to a smile, The gay maid on the garden-stile Mimics the hunter's shout. 'Hip! Florian, hip! To horse, to horse! Go, bring the palfrey out. 75

'My Julian's out with all his clan. And, bonny boy, you wis, Lord Julian is a hasty man, Who comes late, comes amiss.'

Now Florian was a stripling squire, 80 A gallant boy of Spain, That toss'd his head in joy and pride, Behind his Lady fair to ride, But blush'd to hold her train.

The huntress is in her dress of green,— 85 And forth they go; she with her bow, Her buskins and her quiver!— The squire—no younger e'er was seen— With restless arm and laughing een, He makes his javelin quiver. 90

And had not Ellen stay'd the race, And stopp'd to see, a moment's space, The whole great globe of light Give the last parting kiss-like touch To the eastern ridge, it lack'd not much, 95 They had o'erta'en the knight.

It chanced that up the covert lane, Where Julian waiting stood, A neighbour knight prick'd on to join The huntsmen in the wood. 100

And with him must Lord Julian go, Tho' with an anger'd mind: Betroth'd not wedded to his bride, In vain he sought, 'twixt shame and pride, Excuse to stay behind. 105

He bit his lip, he wrung his glove, He look'd around, he look'd above, But pretext none could find or frame. Alas! alas! and well-a-day! It grieves me sore to think, to say, 110 That names so seldom meet with Love, Yet Love wants courage without a name!

Straight from the forest's skirt the trees O'er-branching, made an aisle, Where hermit old might pace and chaunt 115 As in a minster's pile.

From underneath its leafy screen, And from the twilight shade, You pass at once into a green, A green and lightsome glade. 120

And there Lord Julian sate on steed; Behind him, in a round, Stood knight and squire, and menial train; Against the leash the greyhounds strain; The horses paw'd the ground. 125

When up the alley green, Sir Hugh Spurr'd in upon the sward, And mute, without a word, did he Fall in behind his lord.

Lord Julian turn'd his steed half round,— 130 'What! doth not Alice deign To accept your loving convoy, knight? Or doth she fear our woodland sleight, And join us on the plain?'

With stifled tones the knight replied, 135 And look'd askance on either side,— 'Nay, let the hunt proceed!— The Lady's message that I bear, I guess would scantly please your ear, And less deserves your heed. 140

'You sent betimes. Not yet unbarr'd I found the middle door;— Two stirrers only met my eyes, Fair Alice, and one more.

'I came unlook'd for; and, it seem'd, 145 In an unwelcome hour; And found the daughter of Du Clos Within the lattic'd bower.

'But hush! the rest may wait. If lost, No great loss, I divine; 150 And idle words will better suit A fair maid's lips than mine.'

'God's wrath! speak out, man,' Julian cried, O'ermaster'd by the sudden smart;— And feigning wrath, sharp, blunt, and rude, 155 The knight his subtle shift pursued.— 'Scowl not at me; command my skill, To lure your hawk back, if you will, But not a woman's heart.

'"Go! (said she) tell him,—slow is sure; 160 Fair speed his shafts to-day! I follow here a stronger lure, And chase a gentler prey."

'The game, pardie, was full in sight, That then did, if I saw aright, 165 The fair dame's eyes engage; For turning, as I took my ways, I saw them fix'd with steadfast gaze Full on her wanton page.'

The last word of the traitor knight 170 It had but entered Julian's ear,— From two o'erarching oaks between, With glist'ning helm-like cap is seen, Borne on in giddy cheer,

A youth, that ill his steed can guide; 175 Yet with reverted face doth ride, As answering to a voice, That seems at once to laugh and chide— 'Not mine, dear mistress,' still he cried, ''Tis this mad filly's choice.' 180

With sudden bound, beyond the boy, See! see! that face of hope and joy, That regal front! those cheeks aglow! Thou needed'st but the crescent sheen, A quiver'd Dian to have been, 185 Thou lovely child of old Du Clos!

Dark as a dream Lord Julian stood, Swift as a dream, from forth the wood, Sprang on the plighted Maid! With fatal aim, and frantic force, 190 The shaft was hurl'd!—a lifeless corse, Fair Alice from her vaulting horse, Lies bleeding on the glade.

? 1828.

FOOTNOTES:

[469:1] First published in 1834. The date of composition cannot be ascertained. The MS., an early if not a first draft, is certainly of late date. The water-marks of the paper (Bath Post) are 1822 and 1828. There is a second draft (MS. b) of lines 97-112. Line 37, 'Dan Ovid's mazy tale of loves,' may be compared with line 100 of The Garden of Boccaccio, 'Peers Ovid's Holy Book of Love's sweet smart,' and it is probable that Alice Du Clos was written about the same time, 1828-9. In line 91 'Ellen' is no doubt a slip of the pen for 'Alice'.

LINENOTES:

Title] Alice Du Clos: or &c. MS.

[19-25]

Her sires had chosen for their Crest A star atwixt its brow, For she, already up and drest Sate in the garden bower below. For she enwrapt in } Enwrapt in robe of } Maiden white { face half drooping Her { [*visage drooping*] from the sight A snow-drop in a tuft of snow Ere the first lark had left the nest Sate in the garden bower below.

MS. erased.

[48] Go tell him I am well at home MS. erased.

[49] speed] fly MS. erased.

[50] stronger] sweeter MS. erased.

[51] gentler] lovelier MS. erased.

[53] reel'd] pass'd MS. erased.

[54-7]

{ [*stormy*] Like a [*tall Wave that*] { [*huge and dark*] Reels sideway from a toiling Bark Toil'd in the deep sea-trough Is traversed by } [*Catches askance*] } the Lightning flash

or

Like a huge Billow, rude and dark { as it falls off from a Bark That { [*tumbling mainward from*] Toil'd in the deep Sea-trough

MS. erased.

[56] shouldering] wheeling MS. erased.

[61] A moment's pause MS. erased.

[65]

Yon May-thorn tree dimly—

or

O fairly flower yon may-thorn tree

MS. erased.

[69] lightsome] glittering MS.

[71] With] The MS.

[76] Lord Julian in the Greenwood stays MS. erased.

[87] With buskins and with quiver MS. erased.

[100] huntsmen] huntsman MS. b.

[104] He sought in vain twixt shame and pride MS. b.

[107] He look'd far round MS. b.

[110] sore] sair MS. b, MS. erased.

[111] Tho' names too seldom MS. b.

[122] With all his gay hunt round MS.

[126] When] And MS.

[128] And dark of Brow, without a word MS.

[135] stifled] muttering MS. erased.

[136] And Look askance MS.: Yet not unheard MS. erased.

[153-7]

{ Lord Julian cry'd God's wrath! speak out! { What mean'st thou man? { Recoiling with a start { Cried Julian with a start. { well-feign'd anger With { feign'd resentment blunt and rude Sir Hugh his deep revenge pursued Why scowl at me? Command my skill.

MS. erased (first draft).

[159] She bade me tell you MS. erased.

[167] For as she clos'd her scoffing phrase MS. erased.

[173-4]

And who from twixt those opening Trees Pricks on with laughing cheer

MS. erased (first draft).



LOVE'S BURIAL-PLACE[475:1]

Lady. If Love be dead— Poet. And I aver it! Lady. Tell me, Bard! where Love lies buried? Poet. Love lies buried where 'twas born: Oh, gentle dame! think it no scorn 5 If, in my fancy, I presume To call thy bosom poor Love's Tomb. And on that tomb to read the line:— 'Here lies a Love that once seem'd mine, But caught a chill, as I divine, 10 And died at length of a Decline.'

1828.

FOOTNOTES:

[475:1] First published in 1828: included in the Amulet, 1833, as the first of 'Three Scraps', and in 1852. The present text is that of the Amulet, 1833.

LINENOTES:

Title] The Alienated Mistress: A Madrigal (From an unfinished Melodrama) 1828, 1852.

[1-3]

Lady. If Love be dead (and you aver it!) Tell me Bard! where Love lies buried.

1828, 1852.

[5] Ah faithless nymph 1828, 1852.

[7] call] name 1828, 1852.

[9] seem'd] was 1828, 1852.

[10] caught] took 1828, 1852.



LINES[476:1]

TO A COMIC AUTHOR, ON AN ABUSIVE REVIEW

What though the chilly wide-mouth'd quacking chorus From the rank swamps of murk Review-land croak: So was it, neighbour, in the times before us, When Momus, throwing on his Attic cloak, Romp'd with the Graces; and each tickled Muse 5 (That Turk, Dan Phoebus, whom bards call divine, Was married to—at least, he kept—all nine) Fled, but still with reverted faces ran; Yet, somewhat the broad freedoms to excuse, They had allured the audacious Greek to use, 10 Swore they mistook him for their own good man. This Momus—Aristophanes on earth Men call'd him—maugre all his wit and worth, Was croak'd and gabbled at. How, then, should you, Or I, friend, hope to 'scape the skulking crew? 15 No! laugh, and say aloud, in tones of glee, 'I hate the quacking tribe, and they hate me!'

? 1825.

FOOTNOTES:

[476:1] First published in Friendship's Offering, 1834, as No. III of 'Lightheartednesses in Rhyme': included in 1834.

LINENOTES:

Title] To a Comic Author on an abusive review of his Aristophanes MS.

[1 foll.]

They fled;— Friend yet unknown! What tho' a brainless rout Usurp the sacred title of the Bard— What tho' the chilly wide-mouth'd chorus From Styx or Lethe's oozy Channel croak: So was it, Peter, in the times before us When Momus throwing on his Attic cloak Romp'd with the Graces and each tickled Muse The plighted coterie of Phoebus he bespoke And laughing with reverted faces ran, And somewhat the broad freedom to excuse They had allow'd the audacious Greek to use Swore they mistook him for their own good man! If the good dulness be the home of worth Duller than Frogs co-ax'd, or Jeffrey writ We, too, will Aristoff (sic) and welcome it—

First draft MS. B. M.

[7] kept] kept F. O. 1834.



COLOGNE[477:1]

In Khln[477:2], a town of monks and bones[477:3], And pavements fang'd with murderous stones And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches; I counted two and seventy stenches, All well defined, and several stinks! 5 Ye Nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks, The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, Nymphs, what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine[477:4]? 10

1828.

FOOTNOTES:

[477:1] First published in Friendship's Offering, 1834, as No. IV of 'Lightheartednesses in Rhyme'. It follows the lines 'On my joyful Departure', &c., and is headed 'Expectoration the Second'. First collected in 1834.

[477:2] Khln Coln F. O. The German Name of Cologne. F. O.]

[477:3] Of the eleven thousand virgin Martyrs. F. O.

[477:4] As Necessity is the mother of Invention, and extremes beget each other, the facts above recorded may explain how this ancient town (which, alas! as sometimes happens with venison, has been kept too long), came to be the birthplace of the most fragrant of spirituous fluids, the EAU DE COLOGNE. F. O.



ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE[477:5]

FROM THE SAME CITY

As I am a Rhymer[477:6], And now at least a merry one, Mr. Mum's Rudesheimer[477:7] And the church of St. Geryon Are the two things alone 5 That deserve to be known In the body-and-soul-stinking town of Cologne.

1828.

FOOTNOTES:

[477:5] First published in Friendship's Offering, 1834, with the heading 'An Expectoration, or Splenetic Extempore, on my joyful departure from the City of Cologne'. First collected in 1834.

[477:6] As I am Rhymer, F. O., P. W., 1834, 1893. The 'a' is inserted by Coleridge on a page of F. O., 1834; the correction was not adopted in P. W., 1834.

[477:7] The apotheosis of Rhenish wine.



THE GARDEN OF BOCCACCIO[478:1]

Or late, in one of those most weary hours, When life seems emptied of all genial powers, A dreary mood, which he who ne'er has known May bless his happy lot, I sate alone; And, from the numbing spell to win relief, 5 Call'd on the Past for thought of glee or grief. In vain! bereft alike of grief and glee, I sate and cow'r'd o'er my own vacancy! And as I watch'd the dull continuous ache, Which, all else slumb'ring, seem'd alone to wake; 10 O Friend[478:2]! long wont to notice yet conceal, And soothe by silence what words cannot heal, I but half saw that quiet hand of thine Place on my desk this exquisite design. Boccaccio's Garden and its faery, 15 The love, the joyaunce, and the gallantry! An Idyll, with Boccaccio's spirit warm, Framed in the silent poesy of form.

Like flocks adown a newly-bathed steep Emerging from a mist: or like a stream 20 Of music soft that not dispels the sleep, But casts in happier moulds the slumberer's dream, Grazed by an idle eye with silent might The picture stole upon my inward sight. A tremulous warmth crept gradual o'er my chest, 25 As though an infant's finger touch'd my breast. And one by one (I know not whence) were brought All spirits of power that most had stirr'd my thought In selfless boyhood, on a new world tost Of wonder, and in its own fancies lost; 30 Or charm'd my youth, that, kindled from above, Loved ere it loved, and sought a form for love; Or lent a lustre to the earnest scan Of manhood, musing what and whence is man! Wild strain of Scalds, that in the sea-worn caves 35 Rehearsed their war-spell to the winds and waves; Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids, That call'd on Hertha in deep forest glades; Or minstrel lay, that cheer'd the baron's feast; Or rhyme of city pomp, of monk and priest, 40 Judge, mayor, and many a guild in long array, To high-church pacing on the great saint's day: And many a verse which to myself I sang, That woke the tear, yet stole away the pang Of hopes, which in lamenting I renew'd: 45 And last, a matron now, of sober mien, Yet radiant still and with no earthly sheen, Whom as a faery child my childhood woo'd Even in my dawn of thought—Philosophy; Though then unconscious of herself, pardie, 50 She bore no other name than Poesy; And, like a gift from heaven, in lifeful glee, That had but newly left a mother's knee, Prattled and play'd with bird and flower, and stone, As if with elfin playfellows well known, 55 And life reveal'd to innocence alone.

Thanks, gentle artist! now I can descry Thy fair creation with a mastering eye, And all awake! And now in fix'd gaze stand, Now wander through the Eden of thy hand; 60 Praise the green arches, on the fountain clear See fragment shadows of the crossing deer; And with that serviceable nymph I stoop, The crystal, from its restless pool, to scoop. I see no longer! I myself am there, 65 Sit on the ground-sward, and the banquet share. 'Tis I, that sweep that lute's love-echoing strings, And gaze upon the maid who gazing sings: Or pause and listen to the tinkling bells From the high tower, and think that there she dwells. With old Boccaccio's soul I stand possest, 71 And breathe an air like life, that swells my chest. The brightness of the world, O thou once free, And always fair, rare land of courtesy! O Florence! with the Tuscan fields and hills 75 And famous Arno, fed with all their rills; Thou brightest star of star-bright Italy! Rich, ornate, populous,—all treasures thine, The golden corn, the olive, and the vine. Fair cities, gallant mansions, castles old, 80 And forests, where beside his leafy hold The sullen boar hath heard the distant horn, And whets his tusks against the gnarled thorn; Palladian palace with its storied halls; Fountains, where Love lies listening to their falls; 85 Gardens, where flings the bridge its airy span, And Nature makes her happy home with man; Where many a gorgeous flower is duly fed With its own rill, on its own spangled bed, And wreathes the marble urn, or leans its head, 90 A mimic mourner, that with veil withdrawn Weeps liquid gems, the presents of the dawn;— Thine all delights, and every muse is thine; And more than all, the embrace and intertwine Of all with all in gay and twinkling dance! 95 Mid gods of Greece and warriors of romance, See! Boccace sits, unfolding on his knees The new-found roll of old Maeonides;[480:1] But from his mantle's fold, and near the heart, Peers Ovid's Holy Book of Love's sweet smart![480:2] 100 O all-enjoying and all-blending sage, Long be it mine to con thy mazy page, Where, half conceal'd, the eye of fancy views Fauns, nymphs, and wingd saints, all gracious to thy muse!

Still in thy garden let me watch their pranks, 105 And see in Dian's vest between the ranks Of the trim vines, some maid that half believes The vestal fires, of which her lover grieves, With that sly satyr peeping through the leaves!

1828.

FOOTNOTES:

[478:1] First published in The Keepsake for 1829, to accompany a plate by Stothard: included in 1829 and 1834. The variant of lines 49-56, probably a fragment of some earlier unprinted poem, is inserted in one of Coleridge's Notebooks.

[478:2] Mrs. Gillman.

[480:1] Boccaccio claimed for himself the glory of having first introduced the works of Homer to his countrymen.

[480:2] I know few more striking or more interesting proofs of the overwhelming influence which the study of the Greek and Roman classics exercised on the judgments, feelings, and imaginations of the literati of Europe at the commencement of the restoration of literature, than the passage in the Filocopo of Boccaccio, where the sage instructor, Racheo, as soon as the young prince and the beautiful girl Biancofiore had learned their letters, sets them to study the Holy Book, Ovid's Art of Love. 'Incominci Racheo a mettere il suo [officio] in esecuzione con intera sollecitudine. E loro, in breve tempo, insegnato a conoscer le lettere, fece leggere il santo libro d'Ovvidio, [!! S. T. C.] nel quale il sommo poeta mostra, come i santi fuochi di Venere si debbano ne' freddi cuori con sollecitudine accendere.' ['Deeply interesting—but observe, p. 63, ll. 33-5 [loc. cit.], The holy Book—Ovid's Art of Love!! This is not the result of mere Immorality:—

Multum, Multum Hic jacet sepultum.'

MS. note on the fly-leaf of S. T. C.'s copy of vol. i of Boccaccio's Opere, 1723.]

LINENOTES:

[49-56]

And there was young Philosophy Unconscious of herself, pardie; And now she hight poesy, And like a child in playful glee Prattles and plays with flower and stone, As youth's fairy playfellows Revealed to Innocence alone.

MS. S. T. C.

[59] all] all Keepsake, 1829.

[108] vestal] vestal Keepsake, 1829.



LOVE, HOPE, AND PATIENCE IN EDUCATION[481:1]

O'er wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule, And sun thee in the light of happy faces; Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces, And in thine own heart let them first keep school. For as old Atlas on his broad neck places 5 Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it;—so Do these upbear the little world below Of Education,—Patience, Love, and Hope. Methinks, I see them group'd in seemly show, The straiten'd arms upraised, the palms aslope, 10 And robes that touching as adown they flow, Distinctly blend, like snow emboss'd in snow.

O part them never! If Hope prostrate lie, Love too will sink and die. But Love is subtle, and doth proof derive 15 From her own life that Hope is yet alive; And bending o'er, with soul-transfusing eyes, And the soft murmurs of the mother dove, Woos back the fleeting spirit, and half supplies;— Thus Love repays to Hope what Hope first gave to Love.

Yet haply there will come a weary day, 21 When overtask'd at length Both Love and Hope beneath the load give way. Then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength, Stands the mute sister, Patience, nothing loth, 25 And both supporting does the work of both.

1829.

FOOTNOTES:

[481:1] First published in The Keepsake for 1830: included in P. W., 1834, iii. 381. An MS. version was forwarded to W. Sotheby in an unpublished letter of July 12, 1829. A second MS., dated July 1, 1829, is inscribed in an album now in the Editor's possession, which belonged to Miss Emily Trevenen (the author of Little Derwent's Breakfast, 1839). With regard to the variant of ll. 24-6, vide infra, Coleridge writes (Letter of July 12, 1829):—'They were struck out by the author, not because he thought them bad lines in themselves (quamvis Delia Cruscam fortasse nimis redolere videantur), but because they diverted and retarded the stream of the thought, and injured the organic unity of the composition. Pi nel uno is Francesco de Sallez' brief and happy definition of the beautiful, and the shorter the poem the more indispensable is it that the Pi should not overlay the Uno, that the unity should be evident. But to sacrifice the gratification, the sting of pleasure, from a fine passage to the satisfaction, the sense of complacency arising from the contemplation of a symmetrical Whole is among the last conquests achieved by men of genial powers.'

LINENOTES:

Title] Lines in a Lady's Album in answer to her question respecting the accomplishments most desirable in the Mistress or Governess of a Preparatory School Letter, July 1829: The Poet's Answer, To a Lady's Question respecting the accomplishments most desirable in an instructress of Children Keepsake, 1830.

[2] And] Yet Letter, 1829.

[3] thy] thy Keepsake.

[4] keep school] keep school Keepsake.

[9-11]

Methinks I see them now, the triune group, With straiten'd arms uprais'd, the Palms aslope Robe touching Robe beneath, and blending as they flow.

Letter, July 1829.

[15] doth] will Keepsake, 1833.

[24-6]

Then like a Statue with a Statue's strength, And with a Smile, the Sister Fay of those Who at meek Evening's Close To teach our Grief repose, Their freshly-gathered store of Moonbeams wreath On Marble Lips, a Chantrey has made breathe.

Letter, July 1829.



TO MISS A. T.[482:1]

Verse, pictures, music, thoughts both grave and gay, Remembrances of dear-loved friends away, On spotless page of virgin white displayed, Such should thine Album be, for such art thou, sweet maid!

1829.

FOOTNOTES:

[482:1] First published in Essays on His Own Times, 1850, iii, 998 with the title 'To Miss A. T.' First collected in 1893, with the title 'In Miss E. Trevenen's Album'. 'Miss A. T.' may have been a misprint for Miss E. T., but there is no MS. authority for the title prefixed in 1893.



LINES[483:1]

WRITTEN IN COMMONPLACE BOOK OF MISS BARBOUR, DAUGHTER OF THE MINISTER OF THE U.S.A. TO ENGLAND

Child of my muse! in Barbour's gentle hand Go cross the main: thou seek'st no foreign land: 'Tis not the clod beneath our feet we name Our country. Each heaven-sanctioned tie the same, Laws, manners, language, faith, ancestral blood, 5 Domestic honour, awe of womanhood:— With kindling pride thou wilt rejoice to see Britain with elbow-room and doubly free! Go seek thy countrymen! and if one scar Still linger of that fratricidal war, 10 Look to the maid who brings thee from afar; Be thou the olive-leaf and she the dove, And say, I greet thee with a brother's love! S. T. COLERIDGE.

GROVE, HIGHGATE, August 1829.

FOOTNOTES:

[483:1] First published in the New York Mirror for Dec. 19, 1829: reprinted in The Athenaeum, May 3, 1884: first collected in 1893.

LINENOTES:

Title] lines written . . . daughter of the late Minister to England. Athenaeum 1884.



SONG, ex improviso[483:2]

ON HEARING A SONG IN PRAISE OF A LADY'S BEAUTY

'Tis not the lily-brow I prize, Nor roseate cheeks, nor sunny eyes, Enough of lilies and of roses! A thousand-fold more dear to me The gentle look that Love discloses,— 5 The look that Love alone can see!

Keepsake, 1830.

FOOTNOTES:

[483:2] First published in The Keepsake for 1830: included in Essays on His Own Times, 1850, iii. 997. First collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80.

LINENOTES:

Title] To a Lady Essays, &c. 1850.

[5-6]

The look that gentle Love discloses,— That look which Love alone can see.

Essays, &c. 1850.



LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP OPPOSITE[484:1]

Her attachment may differ from yours in degree, Provided they are both of one kind; But Friendship, how tender so ever it be, Gives no accord to Love, however refined. Love, that meets not with Love, its true nature revealing, 5 Grows ashamed of itself, and demurs: If you cannot lift hers up to your state of feeling, You must lower down your state to hers.

? 1830.

FOOTNOTES:

[484:1] First published as No. ii of 'Lightheartednesses in Rhyme' in Friendship's Offering for 1834: included in P. W., 1834.

LINENOTES:

Title] In Answer To A Friend's Question F. O.

[1] in degree] in degree F. O.

[2] kind] kind F. O.



NOT AT HOME[484:2]

That Jealousy may rule a mind Where Love could never be I know; but ne'er expect to find Love without Jealousy.

She has a strange cast in her ee, 5 A swart sour-visaged maid— But yet Love's own twin-sister she His house-mate and his shade.

Ask for her and she'll be denied:— What then? they only mean 10 Their mistress has lain down to sleep, And can't just then be seen.

? 1830.

FOOTNOTES:

[484:2] First published in 1834.



PHANTOM OR FACT[484:3]

A DIALOGUE IN VERSE

AUTHOR

A lovely form there sate beside my bed, And such a feeding calm its presence shed, A tender love so pure from earthly leaven, That I unnethe the fancy might control, 'Twas my own spirit newly come from heaven, 5 Wooing its gentle way into my soul! But ah! the change—It had not stirr'd, and yet— Alas! that change how fain would I forget! That shrinking back, like one that had mistook! That weary, wandering, disavowing look! 10 'Twas all another, feature, look, and frame, And still, methought, I knew, it was the same!

FRIEND

This riddling tale, to what does it belong? Is't history? vision? or an idle song? Or rather say at once, within what space 15 Of time this wild disastrous change took place?

AUTHOR

Call it a moment's work (and such it seems) This tale's a fragment from the life of dreams; But say, that years matur'd the silent strife, And 'tis a record from the dream of life. 20

? 1830.

FOOTNOTES:

[484:3] First published in 1834.



DESIRE[485:1]

Where true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame; It is the reflex of our earthly frame, That takes its meaning from the nobler part, And but translates the language of the heart.

? 1830.

FOOTNOTES:

[485:1] First published in 1834.

LINENOTES:

[1-4]

Desire of pure Love born, itself the same; A pulse that animates the outer frame, And takes the impress of the nobler part, It but repeats the Life, that of the Heart.

MS. S. T. C.



CHARITY IN THOUGHT[486:1]

To praise men as good, and to take them for such, Is a grace which no soul can mete out to a tittle;— Of which he who has not a little too much, Will by Charity's gauge surely have much too little.

? 1830.

FOOTNOTES:

[486:1] First published in 1834.



HUMILITY THE MOTHER OF CHARITY[486:2]

Frail creatures are we all! To be the best, Is but the fewest faults to have:— Look thou then to thyself, and leave the rest To God, thy conscience, and the grave.

? 1830.

FOOTNOTES:

[486:2] First published in 1834.



[COELI ENARRANT][486:3]

The stars that wont to start, as on a chace, Mid twinkling insult on Heaven's darken'd face, Like a conven'd conspiracy of spies Wink at each other with confiding eyes! Turn from the portent—all is blank on high, 5 No constellations alphabet the sky: The Heavens one large Black Letter only shew, And as a child beneath its master's blow Shrills out at once its task and its affright—[486:4] The groaning world now learns to read aright, 10 And with its Voice of Voices cries out, O!

? 1830.

FOOTNOTES:

[486:3] Now first published from a MS. of uncertain date. 'I wrote these lines in imitation of Du Bartas as translated by our Sylvester.' S. T. C.

[486:4] Compare Leigh Hunt's story of Boyer's reading-lesson at Christ's Hospital:—'Pupil.—(. . . never remembering the stop at the word "Missionary"). "Missionary Can you see the wind?" (Master gives him a slap on the cheek.) Pupil.—(Raising his voice to a cry, and still forgetting to stop.) "Indian No."' Autobiography of Leigh Hunt, 1860, p. 68.



REASON[487:1]

['Finally, what is Reason? You have often asked me: and this is my answer':—]

Whene'er the mist, that stands 'twixt God and thee, Defecates to a pure transparency, That intercepts no light and adds no stain— There Reason is, and then begins her reign!

But alas! 5 ——'tu stesso, ti fai grosso Col falso immaginar, s che non vedi Ci che vedresti, se l'avessi scosso.' Dante, Paradiso, Canto i.

1830.

FOOTNOTES:

[487:1] First published as the conclusion of On the Constitution of the Church and State, 1830, p. 227. First collected, P. and D. W., 1877-80, ii. 374.



SELF-KNOWLEDGE[487:2]

—E coelo descendit gnthi seauton.—JUVENAL, xi. 27.

Gnthi seauton!—and is this the prime And heaven-sprung adage of the olden time!— Say, canst thou make thyself?—Learn first that trade;— Haply thou mayst know what thyself had made. What hast thou, Man, that thou dar'st call thine own?— 5 What is there in thee, Man, that can be known?— Dark fluxion, all unfixable by thought, A phantom dim of past and future wrought, Vain sister of the worm,—life, death, soul, clod— Ignore thyself, and strive to know thy God! 10

1832.

FOOTNOTES:

[487:2] First published in 1834.

LINENOTES:

Title] The heading 'Self-knowledge' appears first in 1893.



FORBEARANCE[488:1]

Beareth all things.—1 COR. xiii. 7.

Gently I took that which ungently came,[488:2] And without scorn forgave:—Do thou the same. A wrong done to thee think a cat's-eye spark Thou wouldst not see, were not thine own heart dark. Thine own keen sense of wrong that thirsts for sin, 5 Fear that—the spark self-kindled from within, Which blown upon will blind thee with its glare, Or smother'd stifle thee with noisome air. Clap on the extinguisher, pull up the blinds, And soon the ventilated spirit finds 10 Its natural daylight. If a foe have kenn'd, Or worse than foe, an alienated friend, A rib of dry rot in thy ship's stout side, Think it God's message, and in humble pride With heart of oak replace it;—thine the gains— 15 Give him the rotten timber for his pains!

? 1832.

FOOTNOTES:

[488:1] First published in 1834.

[488:2] Compare Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar (Februarie):—

'Ne ever was to Fortune foeman, But gently took that ungently came.'

LINENOTES:

Title] The heading 'Forbearance' appears first in 1893.



LOVE'S APPARITION AND EVANISHMENT[488:3]

AN ALLEGORIC ROMANCE

Like a lone Arab, old and blind, Some caravan had left behind, Who sits beside a ruin'd well, Where the shy sand-asps bask and swell; And now he hangs his agd head aslant, 5 And listens for a human sound—in vain! And now the aid, which Heaven alone can grant, Upturns his eyeless face from Heaven to gain;— Even thus, in vacant mood, one sultry hour, Resting my eye upon a drooping plant, 10 With brow low-bent, within my garden-bower, I sate upon the couch of camomile; And—whether 'twas a transient sleep, perchance, Flitted across the idle brain, the while I watch'd the sickly calm with aimless scope, 15 In my own heart; or that, indeed a trance, Turn'd my eye inward—thee, O genial Hope, Love's elder sister! thee did I behold, Drest as a bridesmaid, but all pale and cold, With roseless cheek, all pale and cold and dim, 20 Lie lifeless at my feet! And then came Love, a sylph in bridal trim, And stood beside my seat; She bent, and kiss'd her sister's lips, As she was wont to do;— 25 Alas! 'twas but a chilling breath Woke just enough of life in death To make Hope die anew.

L'ENVOY

In vain we supplicate the Powers above; There is no resurrection for the Love 30 That, nursed in tenderest care, yet fades away In the chill'd heart by gradual self-decay.

1833.

FOOTNOTES:

[488:3] Lines 1-28 were first published in Friendship's Offering for 1834, signed and dated 'S. T. Coleridge, August 1833': included in P. W., 1834. Lines 29-32 were first added as 'L'Envoy' in 1852. J. D. Campbell in a note to this poem (1893, p. 644) prints an expanded version of these lines, which were composed on April 24, 1824, 'as Coleridge says, "without taking my pen off the paper"'. The same lines were sent in a letter to Allsop, April 27, 1824 (Letters, &c., 1836, ii. 174-5) with a single variant (line 3) 'uneclips'd' for 'unperturb'd'. In the draft of April 24, four lines were added, and of these an alternative version was published in P. W., 1834, with the heading 'Desire' (vide ante, p. 485). For an earlier draft in S. T. C.'s handwriting vide Appendices of this edition.

LINENOTES:

[4] Where basking Dipsads[489:A] hiss and swell F. O. 1834.

[489:A] The Asps of the sand-desert, anciently named Dipsads.

[7] And now] Anon F. O. 1834.

[14] Flitting across the idle sense the while F. O. 1834.

[27] That woke enough F. O. 1834.

[29-32]

Idly we supplicate the Powers above: There is no resurrection for a Love That uneclips'd, unshadow'd, wanes away In the chill'd heart by inward self-decay. Poor mimic of the Past! the love is o'er That must resolve to do what did itself of yore. Letter, April 27, 1824.



TO THE YOUNG ARTIST[490:1]

KAYSER OF KASERWERTH

Kayser! to whom, as to a second self, Nature, or Nature's next-of-kin, the Elf, Hight Genius, hath dispensed the happy skill To cheer or soothe the parting friend's 'Alas!' Turning the blank scroll to a magic glass, 5 That makes the absent present at our will; And to the shadowing of thy pencil gives Such seeming substance, that it almost lives.

Well hast thou given the thoughtful Poet's face! Yet hast thou on the tablet of his mind 10 A more delightful portrait left behind— Even thy own youthful beauty, and artless grace, Thy natural gladness and eyes bright with glee! Kayser! farewell! Be wise! be happy! and forget not me.

1833.

FOOTNOTES:

[490:1] First published in 1834. The original of Kayser's portrait of S. T. C., a pencil-sketch, is in the possession of the Editor. In 1852 Kaserwerth is printed Kayserwerth. The modern spelling is Kaiserswerth.



MY BAPTISMAL BIRTH-DAY[490:2]

God's child in Christ adopted,—Christ my all,— What that earth boasts were not lost cheaply, rather Than forfeit that blest name, by which I call The Holy One, the Almighty God, my Father?— Father! in Christ we live, and Christ in Thee— 5 Eternal Thou, and everlasting we. The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death: In Christ I live! in Christ I draw the breath Of the true life!—Let then earth, sea, and sky Make war against me! On my heart I show 10 Their mighty master's seal. In vain they try To end my life, that can but end its woe.— Is that a death-bed where a Christian lies?— Yes! but not his—'tis Death itself there dies.

1833.

FOOTNOTES:

[490:2] First published in Friendship's Offering for 1834: included in P. W., 1834. Emerson heard Coleridge repeat an earlier version of these lines on Aug. 5, 1833.

LINENOTES:

Title] Lines composed on a sick-bed, under severe bodily suffering, on my spiritual birthday, October 28th. F. O.

[1] Born unto God in Christ—in Christ, my All! F. O.

[3] I] we F. O.

[4] my] our F. O.

[7] fear] dread F. O.

[9-10]

Let Sea, and Earth and Sky Wage war against me! On my front I show

F. O.

[11] they] they F. O.

[12] that] who F. O.

[14] his . . . there] his . . . there F. O.



EPITAPH[491:1]

Stop, Christian passer-by!—Stop, child of God, And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod A poet lies, or that which once seem'd he. O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.; That he who many a year with toil of breath 5 Found death in life, may here find life in death! Mercy for praise—to be forgiven for fame[492:1] He ask'd, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same!

9th November, 1833.



FOOTNOTES:

[491:1] First published in 1834. Six MS. versions are extant:—(a) in a letter to Mrs. Aders of 1833 (Letters of S. T. C., 1895, ii. 770); (b) in a letter to J. G. Lockhart; (c) in a letter to J. H. Green of October 29, 1833: (d e) in a copy of Grew's Cosmologia Sacra, annotated by Coleridge in 1833; (f) in a copy of the Todtentanz, which belonged to Thomas Poole.

[492:1] N.B. 'for' in the sense of 'instead of'. est keitai anastsei—stetit: restat: resurget. ESTSE. Letter to J. G. Lockhart, 1833.

LINENOTES:

Title or Heading] (a) 'Epitaph on a Poet little known, yet better known by the Initials of his name than by the Name Itself.' S. T. C. Letter to Mrs. Aders: (b) 'Epitaph on a Writer better known by the Initials of his Name than by the name itself. Suppose an upright tombstone.' S. T. C. Letter to J. G. Lockhart: (c) 'On an author not wholly unknown; but better known by the initials of his name than by the name itself, which he partly Graecized, Hic jacet qui stetit, restat, resurget—on a Tombstone.' Letter to J. H. Green: (d) 'Epitaph in Hornsey Churchyard. Hic jacet S. T. C. Grew (1): (e) 'Etesi's (sic) Epitaph,' (and below (e)) 'Inscription on the Tombstone of one not unknown; yet more commonly known by the Initials of his Name than by the Name itself.' Grew (2): (f) 'Esteese's autoepitaphion.' Note in Poole's Todtentanz.

From the letter to Mrs. Aders it appears that Coleridge did not contemplate the epitaph being inscribed on his tombstone, but that he intended it to be printed 'in letters of a distinctly visible and legible size' on the outline of a tomb-stone to be engraved as a vignette to be published in a magazine, or to illustrate the last page of his 'Miscellaneous Poems' in the second volume of his Poetical Works. It would seem that the artist, Miss Denman, had included in her sketch of the vignette the figure of a Muse, and to this Coleridge objects:—'A rude old yew-tree, or a mountain ash, with a grave or two, or any other characteristic of a village church-yard,—such a hint of a landscape was all I meant; but if any figure rather that of an elderly man, thoughtful with quiet tears upon his cheek.' Letters of S. T. C., 1895, ii. 770.

For the versions inscribed in Grew's Cosmologia Sacra, and in Poole's copy of the Todtentanz, vide Appendices of this work.

[2] breast] heart MS. Letters to Mrs. Aders, J. G. Lockhart, J. H. Green.

[3] seem'd he] was he MS. Letter to J. H. Green.

[5] toil of] toilsome MS. Letter to Mrs. Aden.

[7] to be forgiven] to be forgiven MS. Letters to Mrs. Aders and J. H. Green.



THE

COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS

OF

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

INCLUDING

POEMS AND VERSIONS OF POEMS NOW PUBLISHED FOR THE FIRST TIME

EDITED

WITH TEXTUAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

BY

ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE M.A., HON. F.R.S.L.

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. II: DRAMATIC WORKS AND APPENDICES



OXFORD AT THE CLARENDON PRESS 1912

HENRY FROWDE, M.A. PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD LONDON, EDINBURGH, NEW YORK TORONTO AND MELBOURNE



CONTENTS OF VOL. II

DRAMATIC WORKS

1794 PAGE THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE. An Historic Drama 495

1797 OSORIO. A Tragedy 518

1800 THE PICCOLOMINI; or, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. A Drama translated from the German of Schiller. Preface to the First Edition 598 The Piccolomini 600 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. A Tragedy in Five Acts. Preface of the Translator to the First Edition 724 The Death of Wallenstein 726

1812 REMORSE. Preface 812 Prologue 816 Epilogue 817 Remorse. A Tragedy in Five Acts 819

1815 ZAPOLYA. A Christmas Tale in Two Parts. Advertisement 883 Part I. The Prelude, entitled 'The Usurper's Fortune' 884 Part II. The Sequel, entitled 'The Usurper's Fate' 901

EPIGRAMS 951

An Apology for Spencers 951 On a Late Marriage between an Old Maid and French Petit Matre 952 On an Amorous Doctor 952 'Of smart pretty Fellows,' &c. 952 On Deputy —— 953 'To be ruled like a Frenchman,' &c. 953 On Mr. Ross, usually Cognominated Nosy 953 'Bob now resolves,' &c. 953 'Say what you will, Ingenious Youth' 954 'If the guilt of all lying,' &c. 954 On an Insignificant 954 'There comes from old Avaro's grave' 954 On a Slanderer 955 Lines in a German Student's Album 955 [Hippona] 955 On a Reader of His Own Verses 955 On a Report of a Minister's Death 956 [Dear Brother Jem] 956 Job's Luck 957 On the Sickness of a Great Minister 957 [To a Virtuous Oeconomist] 958 [L'Enfant Prodigue] 958 On Sir Rubicund Naso 958 To Mr. Pye 959 [Ninety-Eight] 959 Occasioned by the Former 959 [A Liar by Profession] 960 To a Proud Parent 960 Rufa 960 On a Volunteer Singer 960 Occasioned by the Last 961 Epitaph on Major Dieman 961 On the Above 961 Epitaph on a Bad Man (Three Versions) 961 To a Certain Modern Narcissus 962 To a Critic 962 Always Audible 963 Pondere non Numero 963 The Compliment Qualified 963 'What is an Epigram,' &c. 963 'Charles, grave or merry,' &c. 964 'An evil spirit's on thee, friend,' &c. 964 'Here lies the Devil,' &c. 964 To One Who Published in Print, &c. 964 'Scarce any scandal,' &c. 965 'Old Harpy,' &c. 965 To a Vain Young Lady 965 A Hint to Premiers and First Consuls 966 'From me, Aurelia,' &c. 966 For a House-Dog's Collar 966 'In vain I praise thee, Zoilus' 966 Epitaph on a Mercenary Miser 967 A Dialogue between an Author and his Friend 967 Mrosophia, or Wisdom in Folly 967 'Each Bond-street buck,' &c. 968 From an Old German Poet 968 On the Curious Circumstance, That in the German, &c. 968 Spots in the Sun 969 'When Surface talks,' &c. 969 To my Candle 969 Epitaph on Himself 970 The Taste of the Times 970 On Pitt and Fox 970 'An excellent adage,' &c. 971 Comparative Brevity of Greek and English 971 On the Secrecy of a Certain Lady 971 Motto for a Transparency, &c. (Two Versions) 972 'Money, I've heard,' &c. 972 Modern Critics 972 Written in an Album 972 To a Lady who requested me to Write a Poem upon Nothing 973 Sentimental 973 'So Mr. Baker,' &c. 973 Authors and Publishers 973 The Alternative 974 'In Spain, that land,' &c. 974 Inscription for a Time-piece 974 On the Most Veracious Anecdotist, &c. 974 'Nothing speaks but mind,' &c. 975 Epitaph of the Present Year on the Monument of Thomas Fuller 975

JEUX D'ESPRIT 976

My Godmother's Beard 976 Lines to Thomas Poole 976 To a Well-known Musical Critic, &c. 977 To T. Poole: An Invitation 978 Song, To be Sung by the Lovers of all the noble liquors, &c. 978 Drinking versus Thinking 979 The Wills of the Wisp 979 To Captain Findlay 980 On Donne's Poem 'To a Flea' 980 [Ex Libris S. T. C.] 981 EGENKAIPAN 981 The Bridge Street Committee 982 Nonsense Sapphics 983 To Susan Steele, &c. 984 Association of Ideas 984 Verses Trivocular 985 Cholera Cured Before-hand 985 To Baby Bates 987 To a Child 987

FRAGMENTS FROM A NOTEBOOK, (circa 1796-1798) 988

FRAGMENTS. (For unnamed Fragments see Index of First Lines.) 996

Over my Cottage 997 [The Night-Mare Death in Life] 998 A Beck in Winter 998 [Not a Critic—But a Judge] 1000 [De Profundis Clamavi] 1001 Fragment of an Ode on Napoleon 1003 Epigram on Kepler 1004 [Ars Poetica] 1006 Translation of the First Strophe of Pindar's Second Olympic 1006 Translation of a Fragment of Heraclitus 1007 Imitated from Aristophanes 1008 To Edward Irving 1008 [Luther—De Dmonibus] 1009 The Netherlands 1009 Elisa: Translated from Claudian 1009 Profuse Kindness 1010 Napoleon 1010 The Three Sorts of Friends 1012 Bo-Peep and I Spy— 1012 A Simile 1013 Baron Guelph of Adelstan. A Fragment 1013

METRICAL EXPERIMENTS 1014

An Experiment for a Metre ('I heard a Voice, &c.') 1014 Trochaics 1015 The Proper Unmodified Dochmius 1015 Iambics 1015 Nonsense ('Sing, impassionate Soul,' &c.) 1015 A Plaintive Movement 1016 An Experiment for a Metre ('When thy Beauty appears') 1016 Nonsense Verses ('Ye fowls of ill presage') 1017 Nonsense ('I wish on earth to sing') 1017 'There in some darksome shade' 1018 'Once again, sweet Willow, wave thee' 1018 'Songs of Shepherds, and rustical Roundelays' 1018 A Metrical Accident 1019 Notes by Professor Saintsbury 1019

APPENDIX I

FIRST DRAFTS, EARLY VERSIONS, ETC.

A. Effusion 35, August 20th, 1795. (First Draft.) [MS. R.] 1021 Effusion, p. 96 [1797]. (Second Draft.) [MS. R.] 1021 B. Recollection 1023 C. The Destiny of Nations. (Draft I.) [Add. MSS. 34,225] 1024 " " " (Draft II.) [ibid.] 1026 " " " (Draft III.) [ibid.] 1027 D. Passages in Southey's Joan of Arc (First Edition, 1796) contributed by S. T. Coleridge 1027 E. The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere [1798] 1030 F. The Raven. [M. P. March 10, 1798.] 1048 G. Lewti; or, The Circassian's Love-Chant. (1.) [B. M. Add. MSS. 27,902.] 1049 The Circassian's Love-Chaunt. (2.) [Add. MSS. 35,343.] 1050 Lewti; or, The Circassian's Love-Chant. (3.) [Add. MSS. 35,343.] 1051 H. Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie. [M. P. Dec. 21, 1799.] 1051 I. The Triumph of Loyalty. An Historic Drama. [Add. MSS. 34,225.] 1069 J. Chamouny; The Hour before Sunrise. A Hymn. [M. P. Sept. 11, 1802.] 1074 K. Dejection: An Ode. [M. P. Oct. 4, 1802.] 1076 L. To W. Wordsworth. January 1807 1081 M. Youth and Age. (MS. I, Sept. 10, 1823.) 1084 " " (MS. II. 1.) 1085 " " (MS. II. 2.) 1086 N. Love's Apparition and Evanishment. (First Draft.) 1087 O. Two Versions of the Epitaph. ('Stop, Christian,' &c.) 1088 P. [Habent sua Fata—Poetae.] ('The Fox, and Statesman,' &c.) 1089 Q. To John Thelwall 1090 R. [Lines to T. Poole.] [1807.] 1090

APPENDIX II

ALLEGORIC VISION 1091

APPENDIX III

APOLOGETIC PREFACE TO 'FIRE, FAMINE, AND SLAUGHTER' 1097

APPENDIX IV

PROSE VERSIONS OF POEMS, ETC.

A. Questions and Answers in the Court of Love 1109 B. Prose Version of Glycine's Song in Zapolya 1109 C. Work without Hope. (First Draft.) 1110 D. Note to Line 34 of the Joan of Arc Book II. [4{o} 1796.] 1112 E. Dedication. Ode on the Departing Year. [4{o} 1796.] 1113 F. Preface to the MS. of Osorio 1114

APPENDIX V

ADAPTATIONS

From Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke: God and the World we worship still together 1115 The Augurs we of all the world admir'd 1116 Of Humane Learning 1116 From Sir John Davies: On the Immortality of the Soul 1116 From Donne: Eclogue. 'On Unworthy Wisdom' 1117 Letter to Sir Henry Goodyere 1117 From Ben Jonson: A Nymph's Passion (Mutual Passion) 1118 Underwoods, No. VI. The Hour-glass 1119 The Poetaster, Act I, Scene i. 1120 From Samuel Daniel: Epistle to Sir Thomas Egerton, Knight 1120 Musophilus, Stanza CXLVII 1121 Musophilus, Stanzas XXVII, XXIX, XXX 1122 From Christopher Harvey: The Synagogue (The Nativity, or Christmas Day.) 1122 From Mark Akenside: Blank Verse Inscriptions 1123 From W. L. Bowles: 'I yet remain' 1124 From an old Play: Napoleon 1124

APPENDIX VI

ORIGINALS OF TRANSLATIONS

F. von Matthison: Ein milesisches Mhrchen, Adonide. 1125 Schiller: Schwindelnd trgt er dich fort auf rastlos strmenden Wogen. 1125 Im Hexameter steigt des Springquells flssige Sule. 1125 Stolberg: Unsterblicher Jngling! 1126 Seht diese heilige Kapell! 1126 Schiller: Nimmer, das glaubt mir. 1127 Goethe: Kennst du das Land, wo die Citronen blhn. 1128 Franois-Antoine-Eugne de Planard: 'Batelier, dit Lisette.' 1128 German Folk Song: Wenn ich ein Vglein wr. 1129 Stolberg; Mein Arm wird stark und gross mein Muth. 1129 Leasing: Ich fragte meine Schne. 1130 Stolberg: Erde, du Mutter zahlloser Kinder, Mutter und Amme! 1130 Friederike Brun: Aus tiefem Schatten des schweigenden Tannenhains. 1131 Giambattista Marino: Donna, siam rei di morte. Errasti, errai. 1131 MS. Notebook: In diesem Wald, in diesen Grnden. 1132 Anthologia Graeca: Koin par klisi lthargikos de phrenoplx 1132 Battista Guarini: Canti terreni amori. 1132 Stolberg: Der blinde Snger stand am Meer. 1134

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE POETICAL WORKS OF SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 1135

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL APPENDIX

No. I. Poems first published in Newspapers or Periodicals. 1178 No. II. Epigrams and Jeux d'Esprit first published in Newspapers and Periodicals. 1182 No. III. Poems included in Anthologies and other Works. 1183 No. IV. Poems first printed or reprinted in Literary Remains, 1836, &c. 1187 Poems first printed or reprinted in Essays on His Own Times, 1850. 1188

INDEX OF FIRST LINES 1189

ERRATA

On p. 1179, line 7, for Sept. 27, read Sept. 23.

On p. 1181, line 33, for Oct. 9 read Oct. 29.



DRAMATIC WORKS



THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE[495:1]

AN HISTORIC DRAMA

[First Act by Coleridge: Second and Third by Southey—1794.]

TO

H. MARTIN, ESQ.

OF

JESUS COLLEGE

CAMBRIDGE

DEAR SIR,

Accept, as a small testimony of my grateful attachment, the following Dramatic Poem, in which I have endeavoured to detail, in an interesting form, the fall of a man, whose great bad actions have cast a disastrous lustre on his name. In the execution of the work, as intricacy of plot could not have been attempted without a gross violation of recent facts, it has been my sole aim to imitate the empassioned and highly figurative language of the French orators, and to develope the characters of the chief actors on a vast stage of horrors.

Yours fraternally, S. T. COLERIDGE.

JESUS COLLEGE, September 22, 1794.

FOOTNOTES:

[495:1] First published (as an octavo pamphlet) at Cambridge by Benjamin Flower in 1794: included in Literary Remains, 1836, i. (1)-32. First collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80, in. (1)-39. 'It will be remarked,' writes J. D. Campbell (P. W., 1893, p. 646), 'that neither title-page nor dedication contains any hint of the joint authorship.' On this point Coleridge writes to Southey, September 19, 1794:—'The tragedy will be printed in less than a week. I shall put my name because it will sell at least a hundred copies in Cambridge. It would appear ridiculous to print two names to such a work. But if you choose it, mention it and it shall be done. To every man who praises it, of course I give the true biography of it.' Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 85.



ACT I

SCENE—The Thuilleries.

Barrere. The tempest gathers—be it mine to seek A friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him. But where? and how? I fear the Tyrant's soul— Sudden in action, fertile in resource, And rising awful 'mid impending ruins; 5 In splendor gloomy, as the midnight meteor, That fearless thwarts the elemental war. When last in secret conference we met, He scowl'd upon me with suspicious rage, Making his eye the inmate of my bosom. 10 I know he scorns me—and I feel, I hate him— Yet there is in him that which makes me tremble! [Exit.

Enter TALLIEN and LEGENDRE.

Tallien. It was Barrere, Legendre! didst thou mark him? Abrupt he turn'd, yet linger'd as he went, And towards us cast a look of doubtful meaning. 15

Legendre. I mark'd him well. I met his eye's last glance; It menac'd not so proudly as of yore. Methought he would have spoke—but that he dar'd not— Such agitation darken'd on his brow.

Tallien. 'Twas all-distrusting guilt that kept from bursting 20 Th' imprison'd secret struggling in the face: E'en as the sudden breeze upstarting onwards Hurries the thundercloud, that pois'd awhile Hung in mid air, red with its mutinous burthen.

Legendre. Perfidious Traitor!—still afraid to bask 25 In the full blaze of power, the rustling serpent Lurks in the thicket of the Tyrant's greatness, Ever prepared to sting who shelters him. Each thought, each action in himself converges; And love and friendship on his coward heart 30 Shine like the powerless sun on polar ice; To all attach'd, by turns deserting all, Cunning and dark—a necessary villain!

Tallien. Yet much depends upon him—well you know With plausible harangue 'tis his to paint 35 Defeat like victory—and blind the mob With truth-mix'd falsehood. They led on by him, And wild of head to work their own destruction, Support with uproar what he plans in darkness.

Legendre. O what a precious name is Liberty 40 To scare or cheat the simple into slaves! Yes—we must gain him over: by dark hints We'll shew enough to rouse his watchful fears, Till the cold coward blaze a patriot. O Danton! murder'd friend! assist my counsels— 45 Hover around me on sad Memory's wings, And pour thy daring vengeance in my heart. Tallien! if but to-morrow's fateful sun Beholds the Tyrant living—we are dead!

Tallien. Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty meanings— 50

Legendre. Fear not—or rather fear th' alternative, And seek for courage e'en in cowardice— But see—hither he comes—let us away! His brother with him, and the bloody Couthon, And high of haughty spirit, young St. Just. [Exeunt. 55

Enter ROBESPIERRE, COUTHON, ST. JUST, and ROBESPIERRE JUNIOR.

Robespierre. What? did La Fayette fall before my power? And did I conquer Roland's spotless virtues? The fervent eloquence of Vergniaud's tongue? And Brissot's thoughtful soul unbribed and bold? Did zealot armies haste in vain to save them? 60 What! did th' assassin's dagger aim its point Vain, as a dream of murder, at my bosom? And shall I dread the soft luxurious Tallien? Th' Adonis Tallien? banquet-hunting Tallien? Him, whose heart flutters at the dice-box? Him, 65 Who ever on the harlots' downy pillow Resigns his head impure to feverish slumbers!

St. Just. I cannot fear him—yet we must not scorn him. Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus, Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony? 70 The state is not yet purified: and though The stream runs clear, yet at the bottom lies The thick black sediment of all the factions— It needs no magic hand to stir it up!

Couthon. O we did wrong to spare them—fatal error! 75 Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died? And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes? I've fear'd him, since his iron heart endured To make of Lyons one vast human shambles, Compar'd with which the sun-scorcht wilderness 80 Of Zara were a smiling paradise.

St. Just. Rightly thou judgest, Couthon! He is one Who flies from silent solitary anguish, Seeking forgetful peace amid the jar Of elements. The howl of maniac uproar 85 Lulls to sad sleep the memory of himself. A calm is fatal to him—then he feels The dire upboilings of the storm within him. A tiger mad with inward wounds!—I dread The fierce and restless turbulence of guilt. 90

Robespierre. Is not the Commune ours? The stern tribunal? Dumas? and Vivier? Fleuriot? and Louvet? And Henriot? We'll denounce an hundred, nor Shall they behold to-morrow's sun roll westward.

Robespierre Junior. Nay—I am sick of blood; my aching heart 95 Reviews the long, long train of hideous horrors That still have gloom'd the rise of the Republic. I should have died before Toulon, when war Became the patriot!

Robespierre. Most unworthy wish! He, whose heart sickens at the blood of traitors, 100 Would be himself a traitor, were he not A coward! 'Tis congenial souls alone Shed tears of sorrow for each other's fate. O thou art brave, my brother! and thine eye Full firmly shines amid the groaning battle— 105 Yet in thine heart the woman-form of pity Asserts too large a share, an ill-timed guest! There is unsoundness in the state—To-morrow Shall see it cleans'd by wholesome massacre!

Robespierre Junior. Beware! already do the sections murmur— 110 'O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre— The tyrant guardian of the country's freedom!'

Couthon. 'Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves! Much I suspect the darksome fickle heart Of cold Barrere!

Robespierre. I see the villain in him! 115

Robespierre Junior. If he—if all forsake thee—what remains?

Robespierre. Myself! the steel-strong Rectitude of soul And Poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues! The giant Victories my counsels form'd Shall stalk around me with sun-glittering plumes, 120 Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless.

[Exeunt caeteri. Manet COUTHON.

Couthon (solus). So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtues Bloom on the poisonous branches of ambition! Still, Robespierre! thou'lt guard thy country's freedom To despotize in all the patriot's pomp. 125 While Conscience, 'mid the mob's applauding clamours, Sleeps in thine ear, nor whispers—blood-stain'd tyrant! Yet what is Conscience? Superstition's dream, Making such deep impression on our sleep— That long th' awakened breast retains its horrors! 130 But he returns—and with him comes Barrere. [Exit COUTHON.

Enter ROBESPIERRE and BARRERE.

Robespierre. There is no danger but in cowardice.— Barrere! we make the danger, when we fear it. We have such force without, as will suspend The cold and trembling treachery of these members. 135

Barrere. 'Twill be a pause of terror.—

Robespierre. But to whom? Rather the short-lived slumber of the tempest, Gathering its strength anew. The dastard traitors! Moles, that would undermine the rooted oak! A pause!—a moment's pause?—'Tis all their life. 140

Barrere. Yet much they talk—and plausible their speech. Couthon's decree has given such powers, that—

Robespierre. That what?

Barrere. The freedom of debate—

Robespierre. Transparent mask! They wish to clog the wheels of government, Forcing the hand that guides the vast machine 145 To bribe them to their duty—English patriots! Are not the congregated clouds of war Black all around us? In our very vitals Works not the king-bred poison of rebellion? Say, what shall counteract the selfish plottings 150 Of wretches, cold of heart, nor awed by fears Of him, whose power directs th' eternal justice? Terror? or secret-sapping gold? The first Heavy, but transient as the ills that cause it; And to the virtuous patriot rendered light 155 By the necessities that gave it birth: The other fouls the fount of the republic, Making it flow polluted to all ages: Inoculates the state with a slow venom, That once imbibed, must be continued ever. 160 Myself incorruptible I ne'er could bribe them— Therefore they hate me.

Barrere. Are the sections friendly?

Robespierre. There are who wish my ruin—but I'll make them Blush for the crime in blood!

Barrere. Nay—but I tell thee, Thou art too fond of slaughter—and the right 165 (If right it be) workest by most foul means!

Robespierre. Self-centering Fear! how well thou canst ape Mercy! Too fond of slaughter!—matchless hypocrite! Thought Barrere so, when Brissot, Danton died? Thought Barrere so, when through the streaming streets 170 Of Paris red-eyed Massacre o'erwearied Reel'd heavily, intoxicate with blood? And when (O heavens!) in Lyons' death-red square Sick Fancy groan'd o'er putrid hills of slain, Didst thou not fiercely laugh, and bless the day? 175 Why, thou hast been the mouth-piece of all horrors, And, like a blood-hound, crouch'd for murder! Now Aloof thou standest from the tottering pillar, Or, like a frighted child behind its mother, Hidest thy pale face in the skirts of—Mercy! 180

Barrere. O prodigality of eloquent anger! Why now I see thou'rt weak—thy case is desperate! The cool ferocious Robespierre turn'd scolder!

Robespierre. Who from a bad man's bosom wards the blow Reserves the whetted dagger for his own. 185 Denounced twice—and twice I saved his life! [Exit.

Barrere. The sections will support them—there's the point! No! he can never weather out the storm— Yet he is sudden in revenge—No more! I must away to Tallien. [Exit. 190

SCENE changes to the house of ADELAIDE.

ADELAIDE enters, speaking to a Servant.

Adelaide. Didst thou present the letter that I gave thee? Did Tallien answer, he would soon return?

Servant. He is in the Thuilleries—with him Legendre— In deep discourse they seem'd: as I approach'd He waved his hand as bidding me retire: 195 I did not interrupt him. [Returns the letter.

Adelaide. Thou didst rightly. [Exit Servant. O this new freedom! at how dear a price We've bought the seeming good! The peaceful virtues And every blandishment of private life, The father's cares, the mother's fond endearment, 200 All sacrificed to liberty's wild riot. The wingd hours, that scatter'd roses round me, Languid and sad drag their slow course along, And shake big gall-drops from their heavy wings. But I will steal away these anxious thoughts 205 By the soft languishment of warbled airs, If haply melodies may lull the sense Of sorrow for a while. [Soft music.

Enter TALLIEN.

Tallien. Music, my love? O breathe again that air! Soft nurse of pain, it sooths the weary soul 210 Of care, sweet as the whisper'd breeze of evening That plays around the sick man's throbbing temples.

SONG[501:1]

Tell me, on what holy ground May domestic peace be found? Halcyon daughter of the skies, 215 Far on fearful wing she flies, From the pomp of scepter'd state, From the rebel's noisy hate.

In a cottag'd vale she dwells List'ning to the Sabbath bells! 220 Still around her steps are seen, Spotless honor's meeker mien, Love, the sire of pleasing fears, Sorrow smiling through her tears, And conscious of the past employ, 225 Memory, bosom-spring of joy.

Tallien. I thank thee, Adelaide! 'twas sweet, though mournful. But why thy brow o'ercast, thy cheek so wan? Thou look'st as a lorn maid beside some stream That sighs away the soul in fond despairing, 230 While sorrow sad, like the dank willow near her, Hangs o'er the troubled fountain of her eye.

Adelaide. Ah! rather let me ask what mystery lowers On Tallien's darken'd brow. Thou dost me wrong— Thy soul distemper'd, can my heart be tranquil? 235

Tallien. Tell me, by whom thy brother's blood was spilt? Asks he not vengeance on these patriot murderers? It has been borne too tamely. Fears and curses Groan on our midnight beds, and e'en our dreams Threaten the assassin hand of Robespierre. 240 He dies!—nor has the plot escaped his fears.

Adelaide. Yet—yet—be cautious! much I fear the Commune— The tyrant's creatures, and their fate with his Fast link'd in close indissoluble union. The pale Convention—

Tallien. Hate him as they fear him, 245 Impatient of the chain, resolv'd and ready.

Adelaide. Th' enthusiast mob, confusion's lawless sons—

Tallien. They are aweary of his stern morality, The fair-mask'd offspring of ferocious pride. The sections too support the delegates: 250 All—all is ours! e'en now the vital air Of Liberty, condens'd awhile, is bursting (Force irresistible!) from its compressure— To shatter the arch chemist in the explosion!

Enter BILLAUD VARENNES and BOURDON L'OISE.

[ADELAIDE retires.

Bourdon l'Oise. Tallien! was this a time for amorous conference? 255 Henriot, the tyrant's most devoted creature, Marshals the force of Paris: The fierce Club, With Vivier at their head, in loud acclaim Have sworn to make the guillotine in blood Float on the scaffold.—But who comes here? 260

Enter BARRERE abruptly.

Barrere. Say, are ye friends to freedom? I am her's! Let us, forgetful of all common feuds, Rally around her shrine! E'en now the tyrant Concerts a plan of instant massacre!

Billaud Varennes. Away to the Convention! with that voice 265 So oft the herald of glad victory, Rouse their fallen spirits, thunder in their ears The names of tyrant, plunderer, assassin! The violent workings of my soul within Anticipate the monster's blood! 270

[Cry from the street of—No Tyrant! Down with the Tyrant!

Tallien. Hear ye that outcry?—If the trembling members Even for a moment hold his fate suspended, I swear by the holy poniard, that stabbed Caesar, This dagger probes his heart! [Exeunt omnes.

FOOTNOTES:

[501:1] This Song was reprinted in Coleridge's Poems of 1796, and later under the title of To Domestic Peace, vide ante, pp. 71, 72.



ACT II

SCENE—The Convention.

Robespierre mounts the Tribune. Once more befits it that the voice of Truth, Fearless in innocence, though leaguered round By Envy and her hateful brood of hell, Be heard amid this hall; once more befits The patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft 5 Has pierced thro' faction's veil, to flash on crimes Of deadliest import. Mouldering in the grave Sleeps Capet's caitiff corse; my daring hand Levelled to earth his blood-cemented throne, My voice declared his guilt, and stirred up France 10 To call for vengeance. I too dug the grave Where sleep the Girondists, detested band! Long with the shew of freedom they abused Her ardent sons. Long time the well-turn'd phrase, The high-fraught sentence and the lofty tone 15 Of declamation, thunder'd in this hall, Till reason midst a labyrinth of words Perplex'd, in silence seem'd to yield assent. I durst oppose. Soul of my honoured friend, Spirit of Marat, upon thee I call— 20 Thou know'st me faithful, know'st with what warm zeal I urg'd the cause of justice, stripp'd the mask From faction's deadly visage, and destroy'd Her traitor brood. Whose patriot arm hurl'd down Hbert and Rousin, and the villain friends 25 Of Danton, foul apostate! those, who long Mask'd treason's form in liberty's fair garb, Long deluged France with blood, and durst defy Omnipotence! but I it seems am false! I am a traitor too! I—Robespierre! 30 I—at whose name the dastard despot brood Look pale with fear, and call on saints to help them! Who dares accuse me? who shall dare belie My spotless name? Speak, ye accomplice band, Of what am I accus'd? of what strange crime 35 Is Maximilian Robespierre accus'd, That through this hall the buz of discontent Should murmur? who shall speak?

Billaud Varennes. O patriot tongue Belying the foul heart! Who was it urg'd Friendly to tyrants that accurst decree, 40 Whose influence brooding o'er this hallowed hall, Has chill'd each tongue to silence? Who destroyed The freedom of debate, and carried through The fatal law, that doom'd the delegates, Unheard before their equals, to the bar 45 Where cruelty sat throned, and murder reign'd With her Dumas coequal? Say—thou man Of mighty eloquence, whose law was that?

Couthon. That law was mine. I urged it—I propos'd— The voice of France assembled in her sons 50 Assented, though the tame and timid voice Of traitors murmur'd. I advis'd that law— I justify it. It was wise and good.

Barrere. Oh, wonderous wise and most convenient too! I have long mark'd thee, Robespierre—and now 55 Proclaim thee traitor tyrant! [Loud applauses.

Robespierre. It is well. I am a traitor! oh, that I had fallen When Regnault lifted high the murderous knife, Regnault the instrument belike of those Who now themselves would fain assassinate, 60 And legalise their murders. I stand here An isolated patriot—hemmed around By faction's noisy pack; beset and bay'd By the foul hell-hounds who know no escape From Justice' outstretch'd arm, but by the force 65 That pierces through her breast.

[Murmurs, and shouts of—Down with the Tyrant!

Robespierre. Nay, but I will be heard. There was a time When Robespierre began, the loud applauses Of honest patriots drown'd the honest sound. But times are chang'd, and villainy prevails. 70

Collot d'Herbois. No—villainy shall fall. France could not brook A monarch's sway—sounds the dictator's name More soothing to her ear?

Bourdon l'Oise. Rattle her chains More musically now than when the hand Of Brissot forged her fetters; or the crew 75 Of Hbert thundered out their blasphemies, And Danton talk'd of virtue?

Robespierre. Oh, that Brissot Were here again to thunder in this hall, That Hbert lived, and Danton's giant form Scowl'd once again defiance! so my soul 80 Might cope with worthy foes.

People of France, Hear me! Beneath the vengeance of the law Traitors have perish'd countless; more survive: The hydra-headed faction lifts anew Her daring front, and fruitful from her wounds, 85 Cautious from past defects, contrives new wiles Against the sons of Freedom.

Tallien. Freedom lives! Oppression falls—for France has felt her chains, Has burst them too. Who traitor-like stept forth Amid the hall of Jacobins to save 90 Camille Desmoulins, and the venal wretch D'Eglantine?

Robespierre. I did—for I thought them honest. And Heaven forefend that Vengeance e'er should strike, Ere justice doom'd the blow.

Barrere. Traitor, thou didst. Yes, the accomplice of their dark designs, 95 Awhile didst thou defend them, when the storm Lower'd at safe distance. When the clouds frown'd darker, Fear'd for yourself and left them to their fate. Oh, I have mark'd thee long, and through the veil Seen thy foul projects. Yes, ambitious man, 100 Self-will'd dictator o'er the realm of France, The vengeance thou hast plann'd for patriots Falls on thy head. Look how thy brother's deeds Dishonour thine! He the firm patriot, Thou the foul parricide of Liberty! 105

Robespierre Junior. Barrere—attempt not meanly to divide Me from my brother. I partake his guilt, For I partake his virtue.

Robespierre. Brother, by my soul, More dear I hold thee to my heart, that thus With me thou dar'st to tread the dangerous path 110 Of virtue, than that Nature twined her cords Of kindred round us.

Barrere. Yes, allied in guilt, Even as in blood ye are. O, thou worst wretch, Thou worse than Sylla! hast thou not proscrib'd, Yea, in most foul anticipation slaughter'd 115 Each patriot representative of France?

Bourdon l'Oise. Was not the younger Caesar too to reign O'er all our valiant armies in the south, And still continue there his merchant wiles?

Robespierre Junior. His merchant wiles! Oh, grant me patience, heaven! 120 Was it by merchant wiles I gain'd you back Toulon, when proudly on her captive towers Wav'd high the English flag? or fought I then With merchant wiles, when sword in hand I led Your troops to conquest? fought I merchant-like, 125 Or barter'd I for victory, when death Strode o'er the reeking streets with giant stride, And shook his ebon plumes, and sternly smil'd Amid the bloody banquet? when appall'd The hireling sons of England spread the sail 130 Of safety, fought I like a merchant then? Oh, patience! patience!

Bourdon l'Oise. How this younger tyrant Mouths out defiance to us! even so He had led on the armies of the south, Till once again the plains of France were drench'd 135 With her best blood.

Collot d'Herbois. Till once again display'd Lyons' sad tragedy had call'd me forth The minister of wrath, whilst slaughter by Had bathed in human blood.

Dubois Cranc. No wonder, friend, That we are traitors—that our heads must fall 140 Beneath the axe of death! when Caesar-like Reigns Robespierre, 'tis wisely done to doom The fall of Brutus. Tell me, bloody man, Hast thou not parcell'd out deluded France, As it had been some province won in fight, 145 Between your curst triumvirate? You, Couthon, Go with my brother to the southern plains; St. Just, be yours the army of the north; Meantime I rule at Paris.

Robespierre. Matchless knave! What—not one blush of conscience on thy cheek— 150 Not one poor blush of truth! most likely tale! That I who ruined Brissot's towering hopes, I who discover'd Hbert's impious wiles, And sharp'd for Danton's recreant neck the axe, Should now be traitor! had I been so minded, 155 Think ye I had destroyed the very men Whose plots resembled mine? bring forth your proofs Of this deep treason. Tell me in whose breast Found ye the fatal scroll? or tell me rather Who forg'd the shameless falsehood?

Collot d'Herbois. Ask you proofs? 160 Robespierre, what proofs were ask'd when Brissot died?

Legendre. What proofs adduced you when the Danton died? When at the imminent peril of my life I rose, and fearless of thy frowning brow, Proclaim'd him guiltless?

Robespierre. I remember well 165 The fatal day. I do repent me much That I kill'd Caesar and spar'd Antony. But I have been too lenient. I have spared The stream of blood, and now my own must flow To fill the current. [Loud applauses. Triumph not too soon, 170 Justice may yet be victor.

Enter ST. JUST, and mounts the Tribune.

St. Just. I come from the Committee—charged to speak Of matters of high import. I omit Their orders. Representatives of France, Boldly in his own person speaks St. Just 175 What his own heart shall dictate.

Tallien. Hear ye this, Insulted delegates of France? St. Just From your Committee comes—comes charg'd to speak Of matters of high import, yet omits Their orders! Representatives of France, 180 That bold man I denounce, who disobeys The nation's orders.—I denounce St. Just. [Loud applauses.

St. Just. Hear me! [Violent murmurs.

Robespierre. He shall be heard!

Bourdon l'Oise. Must we contaminate this sacred hall With the foul breath of treason?

Collot d'Herbois. Drag him away! 185 Hence with him to the bar.

Couthon. Oh, just proceedings! Robespierre prevented liberty of speech— And Robespierre is a tyrant! Tallien reigns, He dreads to hear the voice of innocence— And St. Just must be silent!

Legendre. Heed we well 190 That justice guide our actions. No light import Attends this day. I move St. Just be heard.

Freron. Inviolate be the sacred right of man. The freedom of debate. [Violent applauses.

St. Just. I may be heard then! much the times are chang'd, 195 When St. Just thanks this hall for hearing him. Robespierre is call'd a tyrant. Men of France, Judge not too soon. By popular discontent Was Aristides driven into exile, Was Phocion murder'd. Ere ye dare pronounce 200 Robespierre is guilty, it befits ye well, Consider who accuse him. Tallien, Bourdon of Oise—the very men denounced, For that their dark intrigues disturb'd the plan Of government. Legendre the sworn friend 205 Of Danton, fall'n apostate. Dubois Cranc, He who at Lyons spared the royalists— Collot d'Herbois—