 |
[22] tearful] lovely M. C.
THE FADED FLOWER[70:1]
Ungrateful he, who pluck'd thee from thy stalk, Poor faded flow'ret! on his careless way; Inhal'd awhile thy odours on his walk, Then onward pass'd and left thee to decay. Ah! melancholy emblem! had I seen 5 Thy modest beauties dew'd with Evening's gem, I had not rudely cropp'd thy parent stem, But left thee, blushing, 'mid the enliven'd green And now I bend me o'er thy wither'd bloom, And drop the tear—as Fancy, at my side, 10 Deep-sighing, points the fair frail Abra's tomb— 'Like thine, sad Flower, was that poor wanderer's pride! Oh! lost to Love and Truth, whose selfish joy Tasted her vernal sweets, but tasted to destroy!'
1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[70:1] First published in the Monthly Magazine, August, 1836. First collected in P. W., 1893.
THE OUTCAST[71:1]
Pale Roamer through the night! thou poor Forlorn! Remorse that man on his death-bed possess, Who in the credulous hour of tenderness Betrayed, then cast thee forth to Want and Scorn! The world is pitiless: the chaste one's pride 5 Mimic of Virtue scowls on thy distress: Thy Loves and they that envied thee deride: And Vice alone will shelter Wretchedness! O! I could weep to think that there should be Cold-bosom'd lewd ones, who endure to place 10 Foul offerings on the shrine of Misery, And force from Famine the caress of Love; May He shed healing on the sore disgrace, He, the great Comforter that rules above!
? 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[71:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 'The first half of Effusion xv was written by the Author of "Joan of Arc", an Epic Poem.' Preface to Poems, 1796, p. xi.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xv. 1796: Sonnet vii. 1797: Sonnet vi. 1803: Sonnet ix. 1828, 1829, and 1834: An Unfortunate 1893.
[7] Thy kindred, when they see thee, turn aside 1803.
[9] O I am sad 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829.
[10] Men, born of woman 1803.
[13-14]
Man has no feeling for thy sore Disgrace: Keen blows the Blast upon the moulting Dove.
1803.
[13] the] thy 1796, 1797, 1828.
DOMESTIC PEACE[71:2]
[FROM 'THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE', ACT I, L. 210]
Tell me, on what holy ground May Domestic Peace be found? Halcyon daughter of the skies, Far on fearful wings she flies, From the pomp of Sceptered State, 5 From the Rebel's noisy hate.
In a cottag'd vale She dwells, Listening to the Sabbath bells! Still around her steps are seen Spotless Honour's meeker mien, 10 Love, the sire of pleasing fears, Sorrow smiling through her tears, And conscious of the past employ Memory, bosom-spring of joy.
1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[71:2] First published in the Fall of Robespierre, 1795: included (as 'Song', p. 13) in 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xxv. 1796.
ON A DISCOVERY MADE TOO LATE[72:1]
Thou bleedest, my poor Heart! and thy distress Reasoning I ponder with a scornful smile And probe thy sore wound sternly, though the while Swoln be mine eye and dim with heaviness. Why didst thou listen to Hope's whisper bland? 5 Or, listening, why forget the healing tale, When Jealousy with feverous fancies pale Jarr'd thy fine fibres with a maniac's hand? Faint was that Hope, and rayless!—Yet 'twas fair And sooth'd with many a dream the hour of rest: 10 Thou should'st have lov'd it most, when most opprest, And nurs'd it with an agony of care, Even as a mother her sweet infant heir That wan and sickly droops upon her breast!
1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[72:1] First published in 1796: Selection of Sonnets, Poems 1796: in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. It was sent in a letter to Southey, dated October 21, 1794. (Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 92.)
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xix. 1796 (in 'Contents' To my Heart): Sonnet II. On a Discovery made too late 1797, 1803, and again in P. and D. W., 1877-80: Sonnet xi. 1828, 1829, 1834.
[2-4]
Doth Reason ponder with an anguish'd smile Probing thy sore wound sternly, tho' the while Her eye be swollen and dim with heaviness.
Letter, 1794.
[6] the] its Letter, 1794.
[7] feverous] feverish 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829.
[14] wan] pale Letter, 1794.
TO THE AUTHOR OF 'THE ROBBERS'[72:2]
Schiller! that hour I would have wish'd to die, If thro' the shuddering midnight I had sent From the dark dungeon of the Tower time-rent That fearful voice, a famish'd Father's cry— Lest in some after moment aught more mean 5 Might stamp me mortal! A triumphant shout Black Horror scream'd, and all her goblin rout Diminish'd shrunk from the more withering scene! Ah! Bard tremendous in sublimity! Could I behold thee in thy loftier mood 10 Wandering at eve with finely-frenzied eye Beneath some vast old tempest-swinging wood! Awhile with mute awe gazing I would brood: Then weep aloud in a wild ecstasy!
? 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[72:2] First published in 1796: included in Selection of Sonnets, 1796: in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The following 'Note' (Note 6, pp. 180, 181) was printed in 1796, and appears again in 1797 as a footnote, p. 83:—'One night in Winter, on leaving a College-friend's room, with whom I had supped, I carelessly took away with me "The Robbers", a drama, the very name of which I had never before heard of:—A Winter midnight—the wind high—and "The Robbers" for the first time!—The readers of Schiller will conceive what I felt. Schiller introduces no supernatural beings; yet his human beings agitate and astonish more than all the goblin rout—even of Shakespeare.' See for another account of the midnight reading of 'The Robbers', Letter to Southey, November [6], 1794, Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 96, 97.
In the Selection of Sonnets, 1796, this note was reduced to one sentence. 'Schiller introduces no Supernatural Beings.' In 1803 the note is omitted, but a footnote to line 4 is appended: 'The Father of Moor in the Play of the Robbers.'
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xx. To the Author, &c. [To 'Schiller', Contents] 1796: Sonnet viii. To the Author of 'The Robbers' 1797: Sonnet xv. 1803: Sonnet xii. To the Author of the Robbers 1828, 1829, 1834.
Lines 1-4 are printed in the reverse order (4, 3, 2, 1). Selections.
[5-6]
That in no after moment aught, less vast Might stamp me human!
Selections.
That in no after moment aught less vast Might stamp me mortal!
1797, 1803.
[8] From the more with'ring scene diminish'd past. Selections, 1797, 1803.
MELANCHOLY[73:1]
A FRAGMENT
Stretch'd on a moulder'd Abbey's broadest wall, Where ruining ivies propp'd the ruins steep— Her folded arms wrapping her tatter'd pall, [73:2]Had Melancholy mus'd herself to sleep. The fern was press'd beneath her hair, The dark green Adder's Tongue[74:1] was there; And still as pass'd the flagging sea-gale weak, The long lank leaf bow'd fluttering o'er her cheek.
That pallid cheek was flush'd: her eager look Beam'd eloquent in slumber! Inly wrought, 10 Imperfect sounds her moving lips forsook, And her bent forehead work'd with troubled thought. Strange was the dream——
? 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[73:1] First published in the Morning Post, December 12, 1797 (not, as Coleridge says, the Morning Chronicle); included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 (with an addition), and, again, in P. and D. W., 1877-80, and (in its first shape) in 1828, 1829, 1834, 1852, and 1893. Sent in Letter to Sotheby, Aug. 26, 1802.
[73:2] Bowles borrowed these lines unconsciously, I doubt not. I had repeated the poem on my first visit [Sept. 1797]. MS. Note, S. T. C. See, too, Letter, Aug. 26, 1802. [Here Melancholy on the pale crags laid, Might muse herself to sleep—Coomb Ellen, written September, 1798.]
[74:1] A Plant found on old walls and in wells and mois[t] [h]edges.—It is often called the Hart's Tongue. M. C. Asplenium Scolopendrium, more commonly called Hart's Tongue. Letter, 1802. A botanical mistake. The plant I meant is called the Hart's Tongue, but this would unluckily spoil the poetical effect. Cedat ergo Botanice. Sibylline Leaves, 1817. A botanical mistake. The plant which the poet here describes is called the Hart's Tongue, 1828, 1829, 1852.
LINENOTES:
[1] Upon a mouldering Letter, Aug. 26, 1802.
[2] Where ruining] Whose running M. C. propp'd] prop Letter, Aug. 26, 1802.
[7] pass'd] came Letter, 1802. sea-gale] sea-gales M. C., Letter, 1802.
[8] The] Her Letter, 1802.
[9] That] Her Letter, 1802.
[13] Not in Letter 1802.
[13]
Strange was the dream that fill'd her soul, Nor did not whisp'ring spirits roll A mystic tumult, and a fateful rhyme, Mix'd with wild shapings of the unborn time!
M. C., Sibylline Leaves, 1817.
TO A YOUNG ASS[74:2]
ITS MOTHER BEING TETHERED NEAR IT
Poor little Foal of an oppressd race! I love the languid patience of thy face: And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread, And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head. But what thy dulled spirits hath dismay'd, 5 That never thou dost sport along the glade? And (most unlike the nature of things young) That earthward still thy moveless head is hung? Do thy prophetic fears anticipate, Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate? 10 The starving meal, and all the thousand aches 'Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes'? Or is thy sad heart thrill'd with filial pain To see thy wretched mother's shorten'd chain? And truly, very piteous is her lot— 15 Chain'd to a log within a narrow spot, Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen, While sweet around her waves the tempting green!
Poor Ass! thy master should have learnt to show Pity—best taught by fellowship of Woe! 20 For much I fear me that He lives like thee, Half famish'd in a land of Luxury! How askingly its footsteps hither bend? It seems to say, 'And have I then one friend?' Innocent foal! thou poor despis'd forlorn! 25 I hail thee Brother—spite of the fool's scorn! And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell, Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride, And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side! 30 How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play, And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay! Yea! and more musically sweet to me Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be, Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest 35 The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!
1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[74:2] First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 30, 1794: included in 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. A MS. version, dated October 24, 1794 (see P. W., 1893, pp. 477, 488), was presented by Coleridge to Professor William Smyth, Professor of Modern History at Cambridge, 1807-49; a second version was included in a letter to Southey, dated December 17, 1794 (Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 119, 120).
LINENOTES:
Title] Monologue to a Young Jack Ass in Jesus Piece. Its mother near it chained to a log MS. Oct. 24, 1794: Address to a Young Jack-Ass and its Tether'd mother MS. Dec. 17, 1794: Address, &c. In familiar verse Morning Chronicle, Dec. 30, 1794: Effusion xxxiii. To a Young Ass, &c. 1796.
[3] gentle] friendly MS. Dec. 1794, M. C.
[4] pat] scratch MS. Oct. 1794, M. C.
[5] spirits] spirit MSS. Oct. Dec. 1794, M. C.
[6] along] upon MS. Dec. 1794, M. C.
[8] That still to earth thy moping head is hung MSS. Oct. Dec. 1794, M. C.
[9] Doth thy prophetic soul MS. Oct. 1794.
[12] Which] That MSS. Oct. Dec. 1794.
[14] shorten'd] lengthen'd MS. Dec. 1794, M. C.
[16] within] upon MSS. Oct. Dec. 1794, M. C.
[19] thy] her 1796.
[21] For much I fear, that He lives e'en as she, 1796.
[23] footsteps hither bend] steps toward me tend MS. Oct. 1794: steps towards me bend MS. Dec. 1794, M. C.: footsteps t'ward me bend 1796.
[25] despised and forlorn MS. Oct. 1794.
[27] would] I'd MSS. Oct. Dec. 1794. in] to MS. Oct. 1794.
[28] Of high-soul'd Pantisocracy to dwell MS. Dec. 1794, M. C.
[28 foll.]
Where high-soul'd Pantisocracy shall dwell! Where Mirth shall tickle Plenty's ribless side,[75:A] And smiles from Beauty's Lip on sunbeams glide, Where Toil shall wed young Health that charming Lass! And use his sleek cows for a looking-glass— Where Rats shall mess with Terriers hand-in-glove And Mice with Pussy's Whiskers sport in Love
MS. Oct. 1794.
[75:A] This is a truly poetical line of which the author has assured us that he did not mean it to have any meaning. Note by Ed. of MS. Oct. 1794.
[35-6]
Than Handel's softest airs that soothe to rest The tumult of a scoundrel Monarch's Breast.
MS. Oct. 1794.
Than Banti's warbled airs that sooth to rest The tumult &c.
MS. Dec. 1794.
[36] The tumult of some SCOUNDREL Monarch's breast. M. C. 1796.
LINES ON A FRIEND[76:1]
WHO DIED OF A FRENZY FEVER INDUCED BY CALUMNIOUS REPORTS
Edmund! thy grave with aching eye I scan, And inly groan for Heaven's poor outcast—Man! 'Tis tempest all or gloom: in early youth If gifted with th' Ithuriel lance of Truth We force to start amid her feign'd caress 5 Vice, siren-hag! in native ugliness; A Brother's fate will haply rouse the tear, And on we go in heaviness and fear! But if our fond hearts call to Pleasure's bower Some pigmy Folly in a careless hour, 10 The faithless guest shall stamp the enchanted ground, And mingled forms of Misery rise around: Heart-fretting Fear, with pallid look aghast, That courts the future woe to hide the past; Remorse, the poison'd arrow in his side, 15 And loud lewd Mirth, to Anguish close allied: Till Frenzy, fierce-eyed child of moping Pain, Darts her hot lightning-flash athwart the brain.
Rest, injur'd shade! Shall Slander squatting near Spit her cold venom in a dead man's ear? 20 'Twas thine to feel the sympathetic glow In Merit's joy, and Poverty's meek woe; Thine all, that cheer the moment as it flies, The zoneless Cares, and smiling Courtesies. Nurs'd in thy heart the firmer Virtues grew, 25 And in thy heart they wither'd! Such chill dew Wan Indolence on each young blossom shed; And Vanity her filmy net-work spread, With eye that roll'd around in asking gaze, And tongue that traffick'd in the trade of praise. 30 Thy follies such! the hard world mark'd them well! Were they more wise, the Proud who never fell? Rest, injur'd shade! the poor man's grateful prayer On heaven-ward wing thy wounded soul shall bear.
As oft at twilight gloom thy grave I pass, 35 And sit me down upon its recent grass, With introverted eye I contemplate Similitude of soul, perhaps of—Fate! To me hath Heaven with bounteous hand assign'd Energic Reason and a shaping mind, 40 The daring ken of Truth, the Patriot's part, And Pity's sigh, that breathes the gentle heart— Sloth-jaundic'd all! and from my graspless hand Drop Friendship's precious pearls, like hour-glass sand. I weep, yet stoop not! the faint anguish flows, 45 A dreamy pang in Morning's feverous doze.
Is this piled earth our Being's passless mound? Tell me, cold grave! is Death with poppies crown'd? Tired Sentinel! mid fitful starts I nod, And fain would sleep, though pillowed on a clod! 50
1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[76:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. Four MS. versions are extant, (1) in Letter to Southey, Nov. [6], 1794 (Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 98, 99): (2) in letter to George Coleridge, Nov. 6, 1794: (3) in the Estlin copy-book: (4) in the MS. 4{o}. The Friend was the Rev. Fulwood Smerdon, vicar of Ottery St. Mary, who died in August 1794.
LINENOTES:
Title] On the Death of a Friend who died of a Frenzy Fever brought on by anxiety MS. E.
[1] ——! thy grave MS. Letter to R. S.: Smerdon! thy grave MS. Letter to G. C.
[3] early] earliest MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E.
[5] We] He MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E, MS. 4{o}, 1796.
[7] will] shall MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E.
[8] And on he goes MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E, 1796: Onward we move 1803.
[9] his fond heart MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E, 1796.
[11] quick stamps MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E, MS. 4{o}.
[12] threaten round MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C.
[17] fierce-eyed] frantic MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E erased [See Lamb's Letter to Coleridge, June 10, 1796].
[19] squatting] couching MS Letter to G. C., MS. E [See Lamb's Letter, June 10, 1796].
[23] cheer] cheers MS. E.
[25] firmer] generous MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C.: manly MS. E.
[29] roll'd] prowl'd MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E.
[33-4]
the poor man's prayer of praise On heavenward wing thy wounded soul shall raise.
1796.
[35] As oft in Fancy's thought MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C.
[39] bounteous] liberal MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E.
[41] ken] soul MS. Letter to R. S.
[46] feverous] feverish all MSS. and Eds. 1796-1829.
[47] this] that MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C., MS. E. passless] hapless Letter to G. C.
[49] Sentinel] Centinel all MSS. and Eds. 1796-1829. mid] with Letters to R. S. and G. C.
Below l. 50 the date (November 1794) is affixed in 1796, 1797, and 1803.
TO A FRIEND[78:1]
[CHARLES LAMB]
TOGETHER WITH AN UNFINISHED POEM
Thus far my scanty brain hath built the rhyme Elaborate and swelling: yet the heart Not owns it. From thy spirit-breathing powers I ask not now, my friend! the aiding verse, Tedious to thee, and from thy anxious thought 5 Of dissonant mood. In fancy (well I know) From business wandering far and local cares, Thou creepest round a dear-lov'd Sister's bed With noiseless step, and watchest the faint look, Soothing each pang with fond solicitude, 10 And tenderest tones medicinal of love. I too a Sister had, an only Sister— She lov'd me dearly, and I doted on her! To her I pour'd forth all my puny sorrows (As a sick Patient in a Nurse's arms) 15 And of the heart those hidden maladies That e'en from Friendship's eye will shrink asham'd. O! I have wak'd at midnight, and have wept, Because she was not!—Cheerily, dear Charles! Thou thy best friend shalt cherish many a year: 20 Such warm presages feel I of high Hope. For not uninterested the dear Maid I've view'd—her soul affectionate yet wise, Her polish'd wit as mild as lambent glories That play around a sainted infant's head. 25 He knows (the Spirit that in secret sees, Of whose omniscient and all-spreading Love Aught to implore[79:1] were impotence of mind) That my mute thoughts are sad before his throne, Prepar'd, when he his healing ray vouchsafes, 30 Thanksgiving to pour forth with lifted heart, And praise Him Gracious with a Brother's Joy!
1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[78:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797, 1803, and, again, in 1844. Lines 12-19 ('I too a sister . . . Because she was not') are published in 1834 (i. 35) under the heading 'The Same', i. e. the same as the preceding poem, 'On seeing a Youth affectionately welcomed by a Sister.' The date, December 1794, affixed in 1797 and 1803, is correct. The poem was sent in a letter from Coleridge to Southey, dated December 1794. (Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 128.) The 'Unfinished Poem' was, certainly, Religious Musings, begun on Christmas Eve, 1794. The text is that of 1844.
[79:1] I utterly recant the sentiment contained in the lines—
'Of whose omniscient and all-spreading Love Aught to implore were impotence of mind,'
it being written in Scripture, 'Ask, and it shall be given you,' and my human reason being moreover convinced of the propriety of offering petitions as well as thanksgivings to Deity. [Note of S. T. C., in Poems, 1797 and 1803.]
LINENOTES:
Title] To C. Lamb MS. Letter, Dec. 1794: Effusion xxii. To a Friend, &c. 1796: To Charles Lamb with an unfinished Poem 1844.
[1-3]
Thus far my sterile brain hath fram'd the song Elaborate and swelling: but the heart Not owns it. From thy spirit-breathing power
MS. Letter, Dec. 1794.
[7] Not in MS. Letter, Dec. 1794.
[Between 13 and 14]
On her soft bosom I reposed my cares And gain'd for every wound a healing tear.
MS. Letter, 1794.
[15] a] his MS. Letter, 1794, 1796, 1797, 1803.
[17] That shrink asham'd from even Friendship's eye. MS. Letter, 1794, 1796, 1797.
[18] wak'd] woke MS. Letter, 1794, 1796, 1797, 1803.
[21] warm] high: high] warm MS. Letter, 1794. presages] presagings 1803.
[25] sainted] holy MS. Letter, 1794.
[26] that] who MS. Letter, 1794.
[31] To pour forth thanksgiving MS. Letter, 1794, 1796, 1797, 1803.
SONNETS ON EMINENT CHARACTERS
CONTRIBUTED TO THE 'MORNING CHRONICLE' IN DECEMBER 1794 AND JANUARY 1795
[The Sonnets were introduced by the following letter:—
'MR. EDITOR—If, Sir, the following Poems will not disgrace your poetical department, I will transmit you a series of Sonnets (as it is the fashion to call them) addressed like these to eminent Contemporaries.
'JESUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.' S. T. C.]
I[79:2]
TO THE HONOURABLE MR. ERSKINE
When British Freedom for an happier land Spread her broad wings, that flutter'd with affright, ERSKINE! thy voice she heard, and paus'd her flight Sublime of hope, for dreadless thou didst stand (Thy censer glowing with the hallow'd flame) 5 A hireless Priest before the insulted shrine, And at her altar pour the stream divine Of unmatch'd eloquence. Therefore thy name
Her sons shall venerate, and cheer thy breast With blessings heaven-ward breath'd. And when the doom Of Nature bids thee die, beyond the tomb 11 Thy light shall shine: as sunk beneath the West
Though the great Summer Sun eludes our gaze, Still burns wide Heaven with his distended blaze.[80:A]
December 1, 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[79:2] First published in the Morning Chronicle, Dec. 1, 1794: included in 1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[80:A] 'Our elegant correspondent will highly gratify every reader of taste by the continuance of his exquisitely beautiful productions. No. II. shall appear on an early day.'
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion v. 1796: Sonnet x. 1803: Sonnet iv. 1828, 1829, 1834.
[4] for dreadless] where fearless M. C. Dec. 1, 1794.
[6] A] An M. C., 1796-1803, 1828, 1829. the insulted] her injur'd M. C.
[7] pour] pour'dst M. C., 1796, 1803.
[8] unmatch'd] matchless M. C.
[10] With heav'n-breath'd blessings; and, when late the doom M. C.
[11] die] rise 1803.
[13-14]
Though the great Sun not meets our wistful gaze Still glows wide Heaven
M. C.
[Below l. 14] Jesus College Cambridge M. C.
II[80:1]
BURKE
As late I lay in Slumber's shadowy vale, With wetted cheek and in a mourner's guise, I saw the sainted form of FREEDOM rise: She spake! not sadder moans the autumnal gale—
'Great Son of Genius! sweet to me thy name, 5 Ere in an evil hour with alter'd voice Thou bad'st Oppression's hireling crew rejoice Blasting with wizard spell my laurell'd fame.
'Yet never, BURKE! thou drank'st Corruption's bowl![80:2] Thee stormy Pity and the cherish'd lure 10 Of Pomp, and proud Precipitance of soul Wilder'd with meteor fires. Ah Spirit pure!
'That Error's mist had left thy purgd eye: So might I clasp thee with a Mother's joy!'
December 9, 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[80:1] First published in the Morning Chronicle, Dec. 9, 1794: included in 1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. This Sonnet was sent in a letter to Southey, dated December 11, 1794. Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 118.
[80:2]
Yet never, BURKE! thou dran'kst Corruption's bowl!
When I composed this line, I had not read the following paragraph in the Cambridge Intelligencer (of Saturday, November 21, 1795):—
'When Mr. Burke first crossed over the House of Commons from the Opposition to the Ministry, he received a pension of 1200 a year charged on the Kings Privy Purse. When he had completed his labours, it was then a question what recompense his service deserved. Mr. Burke wanting a present supply of money, it was thought that a pension of 2000 per annum for forty years certain, would sell for eighteen years' purchase, and bring him of course 36,000. But this pension must, by the very unfortunate act, of which Mr. Burke was himself the author, have come before Parliament. Instead of this Mr. Pitt suggested the idea of a pension of 2000 a year for three lives, to be charged on the King's Revenue of the West India 4-1/2 per cents. This was tried at the market, but it was found that it would not produce the 36,000 which were wanted. In consequence of this a pension of 2500 per annum, for three lives on the 4-1/2 West India Fund, the lives to be nominated by Mr. Burke, that he may accommodate the purchasers is finally granted to this disinterested patriot. He has thus retir'd from the trade of politics, with pensions to the amount of 3700 a year.' 1796, Note, pp. 177-9.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion ii. 1796: Sonnet vii. 1803: Sonnet ii. 1828, 1829, 1834.
[1] As late I roam'd through Fancy's shadowy vale MS. Letter, Dec. 11, 1794.
[4] She] He MS. Letter, 1794.
[12] Urg'd on with wild'ring fires MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794, M. C.
[Below l. 14] Jesus College M. C.
III[81:1]
PRIESTLEY
Though rous'd by that dark Vizir Riot rude Have driven our PRIESTLEY o'er the Ocean swell; Though Superstition and her wolfish brood Bay his mild radiance, impotent and fell; Calm in his halls of brightness he shall dwell! 5 For lo! RELIGION at his strong behest Starts with mild anger from the Papal spell, And flings to Earth her tinsel-glittering vest, Her mitred State and cumbrous Pomp unholy; And JUSTICE wakes to bid th' Oppressor wail 10 Insulting aye the wrongs of patient Folly; And from her dark retreat by Wisdom won Meek NATURE slowly lifts her matron veil To smile with fondness on her gazing Son!
December 11, 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[81:1] First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 11, 1794: included in 1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. In all editions prior to 1852, 'Priestley' is spelled 'Priestly'. The Sonnet was sent to Southey in a letter dated December 17, 1794.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion iv. 1796: Sonnet ix. 1803: Sonnet iii. 1828, 1829, 1834.
[1-2]
Tho' king-bred rage with lawless uproar rude Hath driv'n
M. C.
Tho' king-bred rage with lawless tumult rude Have driv'n
MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794.
[7] Disdainful rouses from the Papal spell, M. C., MS. Letter, 1794.
[11] That ground th' ensnared soul of patient Folly. M. C., MS. Letter, 1794.
IV[82:1]
LA FAYETTE
As when far off the warbled strains are heard That soar on Morning's wing the vales among; Within his cage the imprison'd Matin Bird Swells the full chorus with a generous song:
He bathes no pinion in the dewy light, 5 No Father's joy, no Lover's bliss he shares, Yet still the rising radiance cheers his sight— His fellows' Freedom soothes the Captive's cares!
Thou, FAYETTE! who didst wake with startling voice Life's better Sun from that long wintry night, 10 Thus in thy Country's triumphs shalt rejoice And mock with raptures high the Dungeon's might:
For lo! the Morning struggles into Day, And Slavery's spectres shriek and vanish from the ray![82:2]
December 15, 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[82:1] First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 15, 1794: included in 1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[82:2] The above beautiful sonnet was written antecedently to the joyful account of the Patriot's escape from the Tyrant's Dungeon. [Note in M. C.]
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion ix. 1796: Sonnet xiii. 1803: Sonnet vii. 1828, 1829, 1834.
V[82:3]
KOSKIUSKO
O what a loud and fearful shriek was there, As though a thousand souls one death-groan pour'd! Ah me! they saw beneath a Hireling's sword Their KOSKIUSKO fall! Through the swart air (As pauses the tir'd Cossac's barbarous yell 5 Of Triumph) on the chill and midnight gale Rises with frantic burst or sadder swell The dirge of murder'd Hope! while Freedom pale Bends in such anguish o'er her destin'd bier, As if from eldest time some Spirit meek 10 Had gather'd in a mystic urn each tear That ever on a Patriot's furrow'd cheek Fit channel found; and she had drain'd the bowl In the mere wilfulness, and sick despair of soul!
December 16, 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[82:3] First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 16, 1794: included in 1796, 1828, 1829, 1834. The Sonnet was sent to Southey in a letter dated December 17, 1794. Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 117.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion viii. 1796: Sonnet vi. 1828, 1829, 1834.
[3-4]
Great Kosciusko 'neath an hireling's sword The warriors view'd! Hark! through the list'ning air
MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794.
Great KOSCIUSKO 'neath an Hireling's sword His country view'd. Hark through the list'ning air
M. C.
Ah me! they view'd beneath an hireling's sword Fall'n Kosciusko! Thro' the burthened air
1796, 1828, 1829.
[5] As] When M. C., MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794.
[8] The 'dirge of Murder'd Hope' MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794.
[12] That ever furrow'd a sad Patriot's cheek MS. Letter, 1794, M. C., 1796.
[13-14]
And she had drench'd the sorrows of the bowl E'en till she reel'd intoxicate of soul
MS. Letter, 1794, M. C.
And she had drain'd the sorrows of the bowl E'en till she reel'd, &c.
1796.
VI[83:1]
PITT
Not always should the Tear's ambrosial dew Roll its soft anguish down thy furrow'd cheek! Not always heaven-breath'd tones of Suppliance meek Beseem thee, Mercy! Yon dark Scowler view, Who with proud words of dear-lov'd Freedom came— 5 More blasting than the mildew from the South! And kiss'd his country with Iscariot mouth (Ah! foul apostate from his Father's fame!)[83:2] Then fix'd her on the Cross of deep distress, And at safe distance marks the thirsty Lance 10 Pierce her big side! But O! if some strange trance The eye-lids of thy stern-brow'd Sister[83:3] press, Seize, Mercy! thou more terrible the brand, 13 And hurl her thunderbolts with fiercer hand!
December 23, 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[83:1] First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 23, 1794, and, secondly, in The Watchman, No. V, April 2, 1796; included in 1796, 1803, and in 1852, with the following note:—'This Sonnet, and the ninth, to Stanhope, were among the pieces withdrawn from the second edition of 1797. They reappeared in the edition of 1803, and were again withdrawn in 1828, solely, it may be presumed, on account of their political vehemence. They will excite no angry feelings, and lead to no misapprehensions now, and as they are fully equal to their companions in poetical merit, the Editors have not scrupled to reproduce them. These Sonnets were originally entitled "Effusions".'
[83:2] Earl of Chatham.
[83:3] Justice.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion iii. 1796: To Mercy Watchman: Sonnet viii. 1803: Sonnet iii. 1852.
[8] Staining most foul a Godlike Father's name M. C., Watchman.
[13] Seize thou more terrible th' avenging brand M. C.
VII[84:1]
TO THE REV. W. L. BOWLES[84:2]
[FIRST VERSION, PRINTED IN 'MORNING CHRONICLE', DECEMBER 26, 1794]
My heart has thank'd thee, BOWLES! for those soft strains, That, on the still air floating, tremblingly Wak'd in me Fancy, Love, and Sympathy! For hence, not callous to a Brother's pains
Thro' Youth's gay prime and thornless paths I went; 5 And, when the darker day of life began, And I did roam, a thought-bewilder'd man! Thy kindred Lays an healing solace lent,
Each lonely pang with dreamy joys combin'd, And stole from vain REGRET her scorpion stings; 10 While shadowy PLEASURE, with mysterious wings, Brooded the wavy and tumultuous mind,
Like that great Spirit, who with plastic sweep Mov'd on the darkness of the formless Deep!
FOOTNOTES:
[84:1] First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 26, 1794. First collected, P. and D. W., 1877, i. 138. The sonnet was sent in a letter to Southey, dated December 11, 1794. Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 111.
[84:2] Author of Sonnets and other Poems, published by Dilly. To Mr. Bowles's poetry I have always thought the following remarks from Maximus Tyrius peculiarly applicable:—'I am not now treating of that poetry which is estimated by the pleasure it affords to the ear—the ear having been corrupted, and the judgment-seat of the perceptions; but of that which proceeds from the intellectual Helicon, that which is dignified, and appertaining to human feelings, and entering into the soul.'—The 13th Sonnet for exquisite delicacy of painting; the 19th for tender simplicity; and the 25th for manly pathos, are compositions of, perhaps, unrivalled merit. Yet while I am selecting these, I almost accuse myself of causeless partiality; for surely never was a writer so equal in excellence!—S. T. C. [In this note as it first appeared in the Morning Chronicle a Greek sentence preceded the supposed English translation. It is not to be found in the Dissertations of Maximus Tyrius, but the following passage which, for verbal similitudes, may be compared with others (e. g. 20, 8, p. 243: 21, 3, p. 247; 28, 3, p. 336) is to be found in Davies and Markland's edition (Lips. 1725), vol. ii, p. 203:—Ou ti toi leg tn di' auln kai dn kai chorn kai psalmatn, aneu logou epi t psych iousan, t terpn ts akos timtheisan . . . tn alth kai ek tou Heliknos mousan. . . .]
LINENOTES:
[3] Wak'd] Woke MS. Letter, Dec. 11, 1794.
[SECOND VERSION][85:1]
My heart has thank'd thee, BOWLES! for those soft strains Whose sadness soothes me, like the murmuring Of wild-bees in the sunny showers of spring! For hence not callous to the mourner's pains
Through Youth's gay prime and thornless paths I went: 5 And when the mightier Throes of mind began, And drove me forth, a thought-bewilder'd man, Their mild and manliest melancholy lent
A mingled charm, such as the pang consign'd To slumber, though the big tear it renew'd; 10 Bidding a strange mysterious PLEASURE brood Over the wavy and tumultuous mind,
As the great SPIRIT erst with plastic sweep Mov'd on the darkness of the unform'd deep.
FOOTNOTES:
[85:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion i. 1796: Sonnet i. 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, 1834.
[6-7]
And when the darker day of life began And I did roam, &c.
1796, 1797, 1803.
[9] such as] which oft 1797, 1803.
[11] a] such 1797, 1803.
[13-14]
As made the soul enamour'd of her woe: No common praise, dear Bard! to thee I owe.
1797, 1803.
VIII[85:2]
MRS. SIDDONS
As when a child on some long Winter's night Affrighted clinging to its Grandam's knees With eager wond'ring and perturb'd delight Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees Muttered to wretch by necromantic spell; 5 Or of those hags, who at the witching time Of murky Midnight ride the air sublime, And mingle foul embrace with fiends of Hell:
Cold Horror drinks its blood! Anon the tear More gentle starts, to hear the Beldame tell 10 Of pretty Babes, that lov'd each other dear. Murder'd by cruel Uncle's mandate fell:
Even such the shiv'ring joys thy tones impart, Even so thou, SIDDONS! meltest my sad heart!
December 29, 1794.
FOOTNOTES:
[85:2] First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 29, 1794, under the signature, S. T. C.: included in 1796 (as C. L.'s) and in 1797 as Charles Lamb's, but reassigned to Coleridge in 1803. First collected, P. and D. W., 1877, i. 140, 141. This sonnet may have been altered by Coleridge, but was no doubt written by Lamb and given by him to Coleridge to make up his tale of sonnets for the Morning Chronicle. In 1796 and 1797 Coleridge acknowledged the sonnet to be Lamb's; but in 1803, Lamb, who was seeing that volume through the press, once more handed it over to Coleridge.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion vii. 1796: Sonnet viii. 1797, p. 224: Sonnet xii. 1803.
[4] dark tales of fearful strange decrees M. C.
[6] Of Warlock Hags that M. C.
IX
TO WILLIAM GODWIN[86:1]
AUTHOR OF 'POLITICAL JUSTICE'
O form'd t' illume a sunless world forlorn, As o'er the chill and dusky brow of Night, In Finland's wintry skies the Mimic Morn[86:2] Electric pours a stream of rosy light,
Pleas'd I have mark'd OPPRESSION, terror-pale, 5 Since, thro' the windings of her dark machine, Thy steady eye has shot its glances keen— And bade th' All-lovely 'scenes at distance hail'.
Nor will I not thy holy guidance bless, And hymn thee, GODWIN! with an ardent lay; 10 For that thy voice, in Passion's stormy day, When wild I roam'd the bleak Heath of Distress,
Bade the bright form of Justice meet my way— And told me that her name was HAPPINESS.
January 10, 1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[86:1] First published in the Morning Chronicle, January 10, 1795. First collected, P. and D. W., 1877, i. 143. The last six lines were sent in a letter to Southey, dated December 17, 1794. Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 117.
[86:2] Aurora Borealis.
X[87:1]
TO ROBERT SOUTHEY
OF BALIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD, AUTHOR OF THE 'RETROSPECT', AND OTHER POEMS
SOUTHEY! thy melodies steal o'er mine ear Like far-off joyance, or the murmuring Of wild bees in the sunny showers of Spring— Sounds of such mingled import as may cheer
The lonely breast, yet rouse a mindful tear: 5 Wak'd by the Song doth Hope-born FANCY fling Rich showers of dewy fragrance from her wing, Till sickly PASSION'S drooping Myrtles sear
Blossom anew! But O! more thrill'd, I prize Thy sadder strains, that bid in MEMORY'S Dream 10 The faded forms of past Delight arise; Then soft, on Love's pale cheek, the tearful gleam
Of Pleasure smiles—as faint yet beauteous lies The imag'd Rainbow on a willowy stream.
January 14, 1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[87:1] First published in the Morning Chronicle, January 14, 1795. First collected, P. and D. W., 1877, i. 142. This sonnet was sent in a letter to Southey, dated December 17, 1794. Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 120.
XI[87:2]
TO RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, ESQ.
It was some Spirit, SHERIDAN! that breath'd O'er thy young mind such wildly-various power! My soul hath mark'd thee in her shaping hour, Thy temples with Hymettian[88:1] flow'rets wreath'd:
And sweet thy voice, as when o'er LAURA'S bier 5 Sad Music trembled thro' Vauclusa's glade; Sweet, as at dawn the love-lorn Serenade That wafts soft dreams to SLUMBER'S listening ear.
Now patriot Rage and Indignation high Swell the full tones! And now thine eye-beams dance 10 Meanings of Scorn and Wit's quaint revelry! Writhes inly from the bosom-probing glance
The Apostate by the brainless rout ador'd, As erst that elder Fiend beneath great Michael's sword.
January 29, 1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[87:2] First published in the Morning Chronicle, January 29, 1795: included in 1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. Two MS. versions are extant; one in a letter to Southey, dated December 9, 1794 (Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 118), and a second in the Estlin copy-book. In 1796 a note to line 4 was included in Notes, p. 179, and in 1797 and 1803 affixed as a footnote, p. 95:—'Hymettian Flowrets. Hymettus, a mountain near Athens, celebrated for its honey. This alludes to Mr. Sheridan's classical attainments, and the following four lines to the exquisite sweetness and almost Italian delicacy of his poetry. In Shakespeare's Lover's Complaint there is a fine stanza almost prophetically characteristic of Mr. Sheridan.
So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kind of argument and question deep, All replication prompt and reason strong For his advantage still did wake and sleep, To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep: He had the dialect and different skill Catching all passions in his craft of will; That he did in the general bosom reign Of young and old.'
[88:1] Hymettus, a mountain of Attica famous for honey. M. C.
LINENOTES:
Title] To Sheridan MS. E: Effusion vi. 1796: Sonnet xi. 1803: Sonnet v. 1828, 1829, 1834.
[1-5]
Some winged Genius, Sheridan! imbreath'd His various influence on thy natal hour: My fancy bodies forth the Guardian power, His temples with Hymettian flowrets wreath'd And sweet his voice
MS. Letter, Dec. 9, 1794.
[1-2]
Was it some Spirit, SHERIDAN! that breath'd His various &c.
M. C.
[1-3]
Some winged Genius, Sheridan! imbreath'd O'er thy young Soul a wildly-various power! My Fancy meets thee in her shaping hour
MS. E.
[8] wafts] bears MS. Letter, 1794, M. C., MS. E.
[9] Rage] Zeal MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E, M. C.
[10] thine] his Letter, 1794, M. C.
[12]
While inly writhes from the Soul-probing glance
M. C.
[12-14]
Th' Apostate by the brainless rout ador'd Writhes inly from the bosom-probing glance As erst that nobler Fiend
MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E.
[14] elder] other M. C.
TO LORD STANHOPE[89:1]
ON READING HIS LATE PROTEST IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS
['MORNING CHRONICLE,' JAN. 31, 1795]
STANHOPE! I hail, with ardent Hymn, thy name! Thou shalt be bless'd and lov'd, when in the dust Thy corse shall moulder—Patriot pure and just! And o'er thy tomb the grateful hand of FAME
Shall grave:—'Here sleeps the Friend of Humankind!' 5 For thou, untainted by CORRUPTION'S bowl, Or foul AMBITION, with undaunted soul Hast spoke the language of a Free-born mind
Pleading the cause of Nature! Still pursue Thy path of Honour!—To thy Country true, 10
Still watch th' expiring flame of Liberty! O Patriot! still pursue thy virtuous way, As holds his course the splendid Orb of Day, Or thro' the stormy or the tranquil sky! ONE OF THE PEOPLE.
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[89:1] First collected in 1893. Mr. Campbell assigned the authorship of the Sonnet to Coleridge, taking it to be 'the original of the one to Stanhope printed in the Poems of 1796 and 1803'. For 'Corruption's bowl' (l. 6) see Sonnet to Burke, line 9 (ante, p. 80).
TO EARL STANHOPE[89:2]
Not, STANHOPE! with the Patriot's doubtful name I mock thy worth—Friend of the Human Race! Since scorning Faction's low and partial aim Aloof thou wendest in thy stately pace,
Thyself redeeming from that leprous stain, 5 Nobility: and aye unterrify'd Pourest thine Abdiel warnings on the train That sit complotting with rebellious pride
'Gainst Her[90:1] who from the Almighty's bosom leapt With whirlwind arm, fierce Minister of Love! 10 Wherefore, ere Virtue o'er thy tomb hath wept, Angels shall lead thee to the Throne above:
And thou from forth its clouds shalt hear the voice, Champion of Freedom and her God! rejoice!
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[89:2] First published in 1796: included in 1803, in Cottle's Early Rec. i. 203, and in Rem. 1848, p. 111. First collected in 1852.
[90:1] Gallic Liberty.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion x. 1796 (To Earl Stanhope Contents): Sonnet xvi. 1803: Sonnet ix. 1852.
LINES[90:2]
TO A FRIEND IN ANSWER TO A MELANCHOLY LETTER
Away, those cloudy looks, that labouring sigh, The peevish offspring of a sickly hour! Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's power, When the blind Gamester throws a luckless die.
Yon setting Sun flashes a mournful gleam 5 Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train: To-morrow shall the many-colour'd main In brightness roll beneath his orient beam!
Wild, as the autumnal gust, the hand of Time Flies o'er his mystic lyre: in shadowy dance 10 The alternate groups of Joy and Grief advance Responsive to his varying strains sublime!
Bears on its wing each hour a load of Fate; The swain, who, lull'd by Seine's mild murmurs, led His weary oxen to their nightly shed, 15 To-day may rule a tempest-troubled State.
Nor shall not Fortune with a vengeful smile Survey the sanguinary Despot's might, And haply hurl the Pageant from his height Unwept to wander in some savage isle. 20
There shiv'ring sad beneath the tempest's frown Round his tir'd limbs to wrap the purple vest; And mix'd with nails and beads, an equal jest! Barter for food, the jewels of his crown.
? 1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[90:2] First published in 1796: included in 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] Epistle II. To a Friend, &c. 1796: To a Friend, &c. 1803.
TO AN INFANT[91:1]
Ah! cease thy tears and sobs, my little Life! I did but snatch away the unclasp'd knife: Some safer toy will soon arrest thine eye, And to quick laughter change this peevish cry! Poor stumbler on the rocky coast of Woe, 5 Tutor'd by Pain each source of pain to know! Alike the foodful fruit and scorching fire Awake thy eager grasp and young desire; Alike the Good, the Ill offend thy sight, And rouse the stormy sense of shrill Affright! 10 Untaught, yet wise! mid all thy brief alarms Thou closely clingest to thy Mother's arms, Nestling thy little face in that fond breast Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest! Man's breathing Miniature! thou mak'st me sigh— 15 A Babe art thou—and such a Thing am I! To anger rapid and as soon appeas'd, For trifles mourning and by trifles pleas'd, Break Friendship's mirror with a tetchy blow, Yet snatch what coals of fire on Pleasure's altar glow! 20
O thou that rearest with celestial aim The future Seraph in my mortal frame, Thrice holy Faith! whatever thorns I meet As on I totter with unpractis'd feet, Still let me stretch my arms and cling to thee, 25 Meek nurse of souls through their long Infancy!
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[91:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797 (Supplement), 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. A MS. version numbering 16 lines is included in the Estlin volume.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xxxiv. To an Infant 1796.
[1-10]
How yon sweet Child my Bosom's grief beguiles With soul-subduing Eloquence of smiles! Ah lovely Babe! in thee myself I scan— Thou weepest! sure those Tears proclaim thee Man! And now some glitt'ring Toy arrests thine eye, And to quick laughter turns the peevish cry. Poor Stumbler on the rocky coast of Woe, Tutor'd by Pain the source of Pain to know! Alike the foodful Fruit and scorching Fire Awake thy eager grasp and young desire; Alike the Good, the Ill thy aching sight Scare with the keen Emotions of Affright!
MS. E.
[8-11]
Or rouse thy screams, or wake thy young desire: Yet art thou wise, for mid thy brief alarms
1797.
[9-10] om. 1797.
[14] Whose kindly Heavings lull thy cares to Rest MS. E.
[19] tetchy] fretful 1797.
TO THE REV. W. J. HORT[92:1]
WHILE TEACHING A YOUNG LADY SOME SONG-TUNES ON HIS FLUTE
I
Hush! ye clamorous Cares! be mute! Again, dear Harmonist! again Thro' the hollow of thy flute Breathe that passion-warbled strain: Till Memory each form shall bring 5 The loveliest of her shadowy throng; And Hope, that soars on sky-lark wing, Carol wild her gladdest song!
II
O skill'd with magic spell to roll The thrilling tones, that concentrate the soul! 10 Breathe thro' thy flute those tender notes again, While near thee sits the chaste-eyed Maiden mild; And bid her raise the Poet's kindred strain In soft impassion'd voice, correctly wild.
III
In Freedom's UNDIVIDED dell, 15 Where Toil and Health with mellow'd Love shall dwell, Far from folly, far from men, In the rude romantic glen, Up the cliff, and thro' the glade, Wandering with the dear-lov'd maid, 20 I shall listen to the lay, And ponder on thee far away Still, as she bids those thrilling notes aspire ('Making my fond attuned heart her lyre'), Thy honour'd form, my Friend! shall reappear, 25 And I will thank thee with a raptur'd tear.
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[92:1] First published in 1796, and again in 1863.
LINENOTES:
Title] To the Rev. W. J. H. while Teaching, &c. 1796, 1863.
[24] her] his 1863.
PITY[93:1]
Sweet Mercy! how my very heart has bled To see thee, poor Old Man! and thy grey hairs Hoar with the snowy blast: while no one cares To clothe thy shrivell'd limbs and palsied head. My Father! throw away this tatter'd vest 5 That mocks thy shivering! take my garment—use A young man's arm! I'll melt these frozen dews That hang from thy white beard and numb thy breast. My Sara too shall tend thee, like a child: And thou shalt talk, in our fireside's recess, 10 Of purple Pride, that scowls on Wretchedness— He did not so, the Galilaean mild, Who met the Lazars turn'd from rich men's doors And call'd them Friends, and heal'd their noisome sores!
? 1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[93:1] First published in 1796: included in Selection of Sonnets, Poems 1796, in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xvi. 1796 (Contents—To an Old Man): Sonnet vi. 1797: Sonnet v. 1803: Sonnet x. 1828, 1829, 1834: Charity 1893.
[7] arm] arms 1796, 1828.
[12-14]
He did not scowl, the Galilaean mild, Who met the Lazar turn'd from rich man's doors, And call'd him Friend, and wept upon his sores.
1797, 1803.
[13] men's] man's 1796, Selection of Sonnets, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829.
TO THE NIGHTINGALE[93:2]
Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel! How many Bards in city garret pent, While at their window they with downward eye Mark the faint lamp-beam on the kennell'd mud, And listen to the drowsy cry of Watchmen 5 (Those hoarse unfeather'd Nightingales of Time!), How many wretched Bards address thy name, And hers, the full-orb'd Queen that shines above. But I do hear thee, and the high bough mark, Within whose mild moon-mellow'd foliage hid 10 Thou warblest sad thy pity-pleading strains. O! I have listened, till my working soul, Waked by those strains to thousand phantasies, Absorb'd hath ceas'd to listen! Therefore oft, I hymn thy name: and with a proud delight 15 Oft will I tell thee, Minstrel of the Moon! 'Most musical, most melancholy' Bird! That all thy soft diversities of tone, Tho' sweeter far than the delicious airs That vibrate from a white-arm'd Lady's harp, 20 What time the languishment of lonely love Melts in her eye, and heaves her breast of snow, Are not so sweet as is the voice of her, My Sara—best beloved of human kind! When breathing the pure soul of tenderness, 25 She thrills me with the Husband's promis'd name!
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[93:2] First published in 1796: included in 1803 and in Lit. Rem., i. 38. First collected in 1844.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xxiii. To the, &c. 1796.
[12] O have I 1796.
LINES[94:1]
COMPOSED WHILE CLIMBING THE LEFT ASCENT OF BROCKLEY COOMB, SOMERSETSHIRE, MAY 1795
With many a pause and oft reverted eye I climb the Coomb's ascent: sweet songsters near Warble in shade their wild-wood melody: Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soothes my ear. Up scour the startling stragglers of the flock 5 That on green plots o'er precipices browze: From the deep fissures of the naked rock The Yew-tree bursts! Beneath its dark green boughs (Mid which the May-thorn blends its blossoms white) Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats, 10 I rest:—and now have gain'd the topmost site. Ah! what a luxury of landscape meets My gaze! Proud towers, and Cots more dear to me, Elm-shadow'd Fields, and prospect-bounding Sea! Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop the tear: 15 Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here!
FOOTNOTES:
[94:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797 (Supplement), 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xxi. Composed while climbing the Left Ascent of Brockley Coomb, in the County of Somerset, May 1795 1796: Sonnet v. Composed, &c. 1797: Sonnet xiv. Composed, &c. 1803.
[7] deep] forc'd 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829.
LINES IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER[94:2]
O Peace, that on a lilied bank dost love To rest thine head beneath an Olive-Tree, I would that from the pinions of thy Dove One quill withouten pain ypluck'd might be! For O! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee, 5 And fain to her some soothing song would write, Lest she resent my rude discourtesy, Who vow'd to meet her ere the morning light, But broke my plighted word—ah! false and recreant wight!
Last night as I my weary head did pillow 10 With thoughts of my dissever'd Fair engross'd, Chill Fancy droop'd wreathing herself with willow, As though my breast entomb'd a pining ghost. 'From some blest couch, young Rapture's bridal boast, Rejected Slumber! hither wing thy way; 15 But leave me with the matin hour, at most! As night-clos'd floweret to the orient ray, My sad heart will expand, when I the Maid survey.'
But Love, who heard the silence of my thought, Contriv'd a too successful wile, I ween: 20 And whisper'd to himself, with malice fraught— 'Too long our Slave the Damsel's smiles hath seen: To-morrow shall he ken her alter'd mien!' He spake, and ambush'd lay, till on my bed The morning shot her dewy glances keen, 25 When as I 'gan to lift my drowsy head— 'Now, Bard! I'll work thee woe!' the laughing Elfin said.
Sleep, softly-breathing God! his downy wing Was fluttering now, as quickly to depart; When twang'd an arrow from Love's mystic string, 30 With pathless wound it pierc'd him to the heart. Was there some magic in the Elfin's dart? Or did he strike my couch with wizard lance? For straight so fair a Form did upwards start (No fairer deck'd the bowers of old Romance) 35 That Sleep enamour'd grew, nor mov'd from his sweet trance!
My Sara came, with gentlest look divine; Bright shone her eye, yet tender was its beam: I felt the pressure of her lip to mine! Whispering we went, and Love was all our theme— 40 Love pure and spotless, as at first, I deem, He sprang from Heaven! Such joys with Sleep did 'bide, That I the living Image of my Dream Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sigh'd— 'O! how shall I behold my Love at eventide!' 45
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[94:2] First published in 1796: included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xxiv. In the, &c. 1796: In the, &c. 1797.
[17] Like snowdrop opening to the solar ray, 1796.
[19] 'heard the silence of my thought' 1797, 1803.
[26] to lift] uplift 1797, 1803.
[Below l. 45] July 1795 1797, 1803.
THE HOUR WHEN WE SHALL MEET AGAIN[96:1]
(Composed during Illness, and in Absence.)
Dim Hour! that sleep'st on pillowing clouds afar, O rise and yoke the Turtles to thy car! Bend o'er the traces, blame each lingering Dove, And give me to the bosom of my Love! My gentle Love, caressing and carest, 5 With heaving heart shall cradle me to rest! Shed the warm tear-drop from her smiling eyes, Lull with fond woe, and medicine me with sighs! While finely-flushing float her kisses meek, Like melted rubies, o'er my pallid cheek. 10 Chill'd by the night, the drooping Rose of May Mourns the long absence of the lovely Day; Young Day returning at her promis'd hour Weeps o'er the sorrows of her favourite Flower; Weeps the soft dew, the balmy gale she sighs, 15 And darts a trembling lustre from her eyes. New life and joy th' expanding flow'ret feels: His pitying Mistress mourns, and mourning heals!
? 1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[96:1] First published in The Watchman, No. III, March 17, 1796 (signed C.): included in 1797, 1803, 1844, and 1852. It was first reprinted, after 1803, in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 43, under 'the sportive title "Darwiniana", on the supposition that it was written' in half-mockery of Darwin's style with its dulcia vitia. (See 1852, Notes, p. 885.)
LINENOTES:
Title] Darwiniana. The Hour, &c. L. R., 1844: Composed during illness and absence 1852.
[9-10] om. 1803.
[14] her] the Lit. Rem., 1844, 1852.
[17] New] Now Watchman.
LINES[96:2]
WRITTEN AT SHURTON BARS, NEAR BRIDGEWATER, SEPTEMBER 1795, IN ANSWER TO A LETTER FROM BRISTOL
Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems better Receiv'd from absent friend by way of Letter. For what so sweet can labour'd lays impart As one rude rhyme warm from a friendly heart?—ANON.
Nor travels my meandering eye The starry wilderness on high; Nor now with curious sight I mark the glow-worm, as I pass, Move with 'green radiance'[97:1] through the grass, 5 An emerald of light.
O ever present to my view! My wafted spirit is with you, And soothes your boding fears: I see you all oppressed with gloom 10 Sit lonely in that cheerless room— Ah me! You are in tears!
Belovd Woman! did you fly Chill'd Friendship's dark disliking eye, Or Mirth's untimely din? 15 With cruel weight these trifles press A temper sore with tenderness, When aches the void within.
But why with sable wand unblessed Should Fancy rouse within my breast 20 Dim-visag'd shapes of Dread? Untenanting its beauteous clay My Sara's soul has wing'd its way, And hovers round my head!
I felt it prompt the tender Dream, 25 When slowly sank the day's last gleam; You rous'd each gentler sense, As sighing o'er the Blossom's bloom Meek Evening wakes its soft perfume With viewless influence. 30
And hark, my Love! The sea-breeze moans Through yon reft house! O'er rolling stones In bold ambitious sweep The onward-surging tides supply The silence of the cloudless sky 35 With mimic thunders deep.
Dark reddening from the channell'd Isle[98:1] (Where stands one solitary pile Unslated by the blast) The Watchfire, like a sullen star 40 Twinkles to many a dozing Tar Rude cradled on the mast.
Even there—beneath that light-house tower— In the tumultuous evil hour Ere Peace with Sara came, 45 Time was, I should have thought it sweet To count the echoings of my feet, And watch the storm-vex'd flame.
And there in black soul-jaundic'd fit A sad gloom-pamper'd Man to sit, 50 And listen to the roar: When mountain surges bellowing deep With an uncouth monster-leap Plung'd foaming on the shore.
Then by the lightning's blaze to mark 55 Some toiling tempest-shatter'd bark; Her vain distress-guns hear; And when a second sheet of light Flash'd o'er the blackness of the night— To see no vessel there! 60
But Fancy now more gaily sings; Or if awhile she droop her wings, As skylarks 'mid the corn, On summer fields she grounds her breast: The oblivious poppy o'er her nest 65 Nods, till returning morn.
O mark those smiling tears, that swell The open'd rose! From heaven they fell, And with the sun-beam blend. Blest visitations from above, 70 Such are the tender woes of Love Fostering the heart they bend!
When stormy Midnight howling round Beats on our roof with clattering sound, To me your arms you'll stretch: 75 Great God! you'll say—To us so kind, O shelter from this loud bleak wind The houseless, friendless wretch!
The tears that tremble down your cheek, Shall bathe my kisses chaste and meek 80 In Pity's dew divine; And from your heart the sighs that steal Shall make your rising bosom feel The answering swell of mine!
How oft, my Love! with shapings sweet 85 I paint the moment, we shall meet! With eager speed I dart— I seize you in the vacant air, And fancy, with a husband's care I press you to my heart! 90
'Tis said, in Summer's evening hour Flashes the golden-colour'd flower A fair electric flame:[99:1] And so shall flash my love-charg'd eye When all the heart's big ecstasy 95 Shoots rapid through the frame!
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[96:1] First published in The Watchman, No. III, March 9, 1796 (signed C.): included in 1797, 1803, 1844, and 1852. It was first reprinted, after 1803, in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 43, under 'the sportive title "Darwiniana", on the supposition that it was written' in half-mockery of Darwin's style with its dulcia vitia. (See 1852, Notes, p. 885.)
[96:2] First published in 1796: included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[97:1] The expression 'green radiance' is borrowed from Mr. Wordsworth, a Poet whose versification is occasionally harsh and his diction too frequently obscure; but whom I deem unrivalled among the writers of the present day in manly sentiment, novel imagery, and vivid colouring. Note, 1796, p. 185: Footnote, 1797, p. 88.
[The phrase 'green radiance' occurs in An Evening Walk, ll. 264-8, first published in 1793, and reprinted in 1820. In 1836 the lines were omitted.
Oft has she taught them on her lap to play Delighted with the glow-worm's harmless ray, Toss'd light from hand to hand; while on the ground Small circles of green radiance gleam around.]
[98:1] The Holmes, in the Bristol Channel.
[99:1] LIGHT from plants. In Sweden a very curious phenomenon has been observed on certain flowers, by M. Haggern, lecturer in natural history. One evening he perceived a faint flash of light repeatedly dart from a marigold. Surprised at such an uncommon appearance, he resolved to examine it with attention; and, to be assured it was no deception of the eye, he placed a man near him, with orders to make a signal at the moment when he observed the light. They both saw it constantly at the same moment.
The light was most brilliant on marigolds of an orange or flame colour; but scarcely visible on pale ones. The flash was frequently seen on the same flower two or three times in quick succession; but more commonly at intervals of several minutes; and when several flowers in the same place emitted their light together, it could be observed at a considerable distance.
This phenomenon was remarked in the months of July and August at sun-set, and for half an hour when the atmosphere was clear; but after a rainy day, or when the air was loaded with vapours nothing of it was seen.
The following flowers emitted flashes, more or less vivid, in this order:—
1. The marigold, galendula [sic] officinalis. 2. Monk's-hood, tropaelum [sic] majus. 3. The orange-lily, lilium bulbiferum. 4. The Indian pink, tagetes patula et erecta.
From the rapidity of the flash, and other circumstances, it may be conjectured that there is something of electricity in this phenomenon. Notes to Poems, 1796. Note 13, pp. 186, 188.
In 1797 the above was printed as a footnote on pp. 93, 94. In 1803 the last stanza, lines 91-96, was omitted, and, of course, the note disappeared. In 1828, 1829, and 1834 the last stanza was replaced but the note was not reprinted.
LINENOTES:
Title] Epistle I. Lines written, &c. The motto is printed on the reverse of the half-title 'Poetical Epistles' [pp. 109, 110]. 1796: Ode to Sara, written at Shurton Bars, &c. 1797, 1803. The motto is omitted in 1797, 1803: The motto is prefixed to the poem in 1828, 1829, and 1834. In 1797 and 1803 a note is appended to the title:—Note. The first stanza alludes to a Passage in the Letter. [The allusions to a 'Passage in the Letter' must surely be contained not in the first but in the second and third stanzas. The reference is, no doubt, to the alienation from Southey, which must have led to a difference of feeling between the two sisters Sarah and Edith Fricker.]
[26] sank] sunk 1796-1829.
[33] With broad impetuous 1797, 1803.
[34] fast-encroaching 1797, 1803.
[48] storm-vex'd] troubled 1797, 1803.
[49] black and jaundic'd fit 1797.
THE EOLIAN HARP[100:1]
COMPOSED AT CLEVEDON, SOMERSETSHIRE
My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o'ergrown With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd Myrtle, (Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!) 5 And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light. Slow saddening round, and mark the star of eve Serenely brilliant (such should Wisdom be) Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents Snatch'd from yon bean-field! and the world so hush'd! 10 The stilly murmur of the distant Sea Tells us of silence.
And that simplest Lute, Placed length-ways in the clasping casement, hark! How by the desultory breeze caress'd, Like some coy maid half yielding to her lover, 15 It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs Tempt to repeat the wrong! And now, its strings Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes Over delicious surges sink and rise, Such a soft floating witchery of sound 20 As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land, Where Melodies round honey-dropping flowers, Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise, Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untam'd wing! 25 O! the one Life within us and abroad, Which meets all motion and becomes its soul, A light in sound, a sound-like power in light, Rhythm in all thought, and joyance every where— Methinks, it should have been impossible 30 Not to love all things in a world so fill'd; Where the breeze warbles, and the mute still air Is Music slumbering on her instrument.
And thus, my Love! as on the midway slope Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon, 35 Whilst through my half-closed eye-lids I behold The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main, And tranquil muse upon tranquillity; Full many a thought uncall'd and undetain'd, And many idle flitting phantasies, 40 Traverse my indolent and passive brain, As wild and various as the random gales That swell and flutter on this subject Lute!
And what if all of animated nature Be but organic Harps diversely fram'd, 45 That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, At once the Soul of each, and God of all?
But thy more serious eye a mild reproof Darts, O belovd Woman! nor such thoughts 50 Dim and unhallow'd dost thou not reject, And biddest me walk humbly with my God. Meek Daughter in the family of Christ! Well hast thou said and holily disprais'd These shapings of the unregenerate mind; 55 Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring. For never guiltless may I speak of him, The Incomprehensible! save when with awe I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels;[102:1] 60 Who with his saving mercies heald me, A sinful and most miserable man, Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess Peace, and this Cot, and thee, heart-honour'd Maid!
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[100:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797, 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[102:1] L'athe n'est point mes yeux un faux esprit; je puis vivre avec lui aussi bien et mieux qu'avec le dvot, car il raisonne davantage, mais il lui manque un sens, et mon ame ne se fond point entirement avec la sienne: il est froid au spectacle le plus ravissant, et il cherche un syllogisme lorsque je rends une [un 1797, 1803] action de grace. 'Appel a l'impartiale postrit', par la Citoyenne Roland, troisime partie, p. 67. Notes to Poems. Note 10, 1796, p. 183. The above was printed as a footnote to p. 99, 1797, and to p. 132, 1803.
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xxxv. Composed August 20th, 1795, At Clevedon, Somersetshire 1796. Composed at Clevedon Somersetshire 1797, 1803: The Eolian Harp. Composed, &c. S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834.
[5] om. 1803.
[8] om. 1803.
[11] Hark! the still murmur 1803.
[12] And th' Eolian Lute, 1803.
[13] om. 1803.
[16] upbraiding] upbraidings 1796, 1797, 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1817.
Lines 21-33 are om. in 1803, and the text reads:
Such a soft floating witchery of sound— Methinks, it should have been impossible Not to love all things in a World like this, Where e'en the Breezes of the simple Air Possess the power and Spirit of Melody! And thus, my Love, &c.
26-33 are not in 1796, 1797. In Sibylline Leaves, for lines 26-33 of the text, four lines are inserted:
Methinks it should have been impossible Not to love all things in a world like this, Where even the breezes, and the common air, Contain the power and spirit of Harmony.
Lines 26-33 were first included in the text in 1828, and reappeared in 1829 and 1834. They are supplied in the Errata, pp. [xi, xii], of Sibylline Leaves, with a single variant (l. 33): Is Music slumbering on its instrument.
[44] And] Or 1796, 1797, 1803.
[64] dear honoured Maid 1893.
TO THE AUTHOR OF POEMS[102:2]
[JOSEPH COTTLE]
PUBLISHED ANONYMOUSLY AT BRISTOL IN SEPTEMBER 1795
Unboastful Bard! whose verse concise yet clear Tunes to smooth melody unconquer'd sense, May your fame fadeless live, as 'never-sere' The Ivy wreathes yon Oak, whose broad defence Embowers me from Noon's sultry influence! 5 For, like that nameless Rivulet stealing by, Your modest verse to musing Quiet dear Is rich with tints heaven-borrow'd: the charm'd eye Shall gaze undazzled there, and love the soften'd sky.
Circling the base of the Poetic mount 10 A stream there is, which rolls in lazy flow Its coal-black waters from Oblivion's fount: The vapour-poison'd Birds, that fly too low, Fall with dead swoop, and to the bottom go. Escaped that heavy stream on pinion fleet 15 Beneath the Mountain's lofty-frowning brow, Ere aught of perilous ascent you meet, A mead of mildest charm delays th' unlabouring feet.
Not there the cloud-climb'd rock, sublime and vast, That like some giant king, o'er-glooms the hill; 20 Nor there the Pine-grove to the midnight blast Makes solemn music! But th' unceasing rill To the soft Wren or Lark's descending trill Murmurs sweet undersong 'mid jasmin bowers. In this same pleasant meadow, at your will 25 I ween, you wander'd—there collecting flowers Of sober tint, and herbs of med'cinable powers!
There for the monarch-murder'd Soldier's tomb You wove th' unfinish'd[103:1] wreath of saddest hues; And to that holier[103:2] chaplet added bloom 30 Besprinkling it with Jordan's cleansing dews. But lo your Henderson[103:3] awakes the Muse—— His Spirit beckon'd from the mountain's height! You left the plain and soar'd mid richer views! So Nature mourn'd when sunk the First Day's light, 35 With stars, unseen before, spangling her robe of night!
Still soar, my Friend, those richer views among, Strong, rapid, fervent, flashing Fancy's beam! Virtue and Truth shall love your gentler song; But Poesy demands th' impassion'd theme: 40 Waked by Heaven's silent dews at Eve's mild gleam What balmy sweets Pomona breathes around! But if the vext air rush a stormy stream Or Autumn's shrill gust moan in plaintive sound, With fruits and flowers she loads the tempest-honor'd ground.
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[102:2] First published in 1796: included in 1797 (Supplement), 1803, and 1852.
'The first in order of the verses which I have thus endeavoured to reprieve from immediate oblivion was originally addressed "To the Author of Poems published anonymously at Bristol". A second edition of these poems has lately appeared with the Author's name prefixed: and I could not refuse myself the gratification of seeing the name of that man among my poems without whose kindness they would probably have remained unpublished; and to whom I know myself greatly and variously obliged, as a Poet, a man, and a Christian.' 'Advertisement' to Supplement, 1797, pp. 243, 244.
[103:1] 'War,' a Fragment.
[103:2] 'John Baptist,' a poem.
[103:3] 'Monody on John Henderson.'
LINENOTES:
Title] Epistle iv. To the Author, &c. 1796: Lines to Joseph Cottle 1797: To the Author, &c., with footnote, 'Mr. Joseph Cottle' 1803.
[1] Unboastful Bard] My honor'd friend 1797.
[35] sunk] sank 1797.
THE SILVER THIMBLE[104:1]
THE PRODUCTION OF A YOUNG LADY, ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR OF THE POEMS ALLUDED TO IN THE PRECEDING EPISTLE
She had lost her Silver Thimble, and her complaint being accidentally overheard by him, her Friend, he immediately sent her four others to take her choice of.
As oft mine eye with careless glance Has gallop'd thro' some old romance, Of speaking Birds and Steeds with wings, Giants and Dwarfs, and Fiends and Kings; Beyond the rest with more attentive care 5 I've lov'd to read of elfin-favour'd Fair—— How if she long'd for aught beneath the sky And suffer'd to escape one votive sigh, Wafted along on viewless pinions aery It laid itself obsequious at her feet: 10 Such things, I thought, one might not hope to meet Save in the dear delicious land of Faery! But now (by proof I know it well) There's still some peril in free wishing—— Politeness is a licensed spell, 15 And you, dear Sir! the Arch-magician. You much perplex'd me by the various set: They were indeed an elegant quartette! My mind went to and fro, and waver'd long; At length I've chosen (Samuel thinks me wrong) 20 That, around whose azure rim Silver figures seem to swim, Like fleece-white clouds, that on the skiey Blue, Waked by no breeze, the self-same shapes retain; Or ocean-Nymphs with limbs of snowy hue 25 Slow-floating o'er the calm cerulean plain.
Just such a one, mon cher ami, (The finger shield of industry) Th' inventive Gods, I deem, to Pallas gave What time the vain Arachne, madly brave, 30 Challeng'd the blue-eyed Virgin of the sky A duel in embroider'd work to try. And hence the thimbled Finger of grave Pallas To th' erring Needle's point was more than callous. But ah the poor Arachne! She unarm'd 35 Blundering thro' hasty eagerness, alarm'd With all a Rival's hopes, a Mortal's fears, Still miss'd the stitch, and stain'd the web with tears. Unnumber'd punctures small yet sore Full fretfully the maiden bore, 40 Till she her lily finger found Crimson'd with many a tiny wound; And to her eyes, suffus'd with watery woe, Her flower-embroider'd web danc'd dim, I wist, Like blossom'd shrubs in a quick-moving mist: 45 Till vanquish'd the despairing Maid sunk low.
O Bard! whom sure no common Muse inspires, I heard your Verse that glows with vestal fires! And I from unwatch'd needle's erring point Had surely suffer'd on each finger-joint 50 Those wounds, which erst did poor Arachne meet; While he, the much-lov'd Object of my choice (My bosom thrilling with enthusiast heat), Pour'd on mine ear with deep impressive voice, How the great Prophet of the Desart stood 55 And preach'd of Penitence by Jordan's Flood; On War; or else the legendary lays In simplest measures hymn'd to Alla's praise; Or what the Bard from his heart's inmost stores O'er his Friend's grave in loftier numbers pours: 60 Yes, Bard polite! you but obey'd the laws Of Justice, when the thimble you had sent; What wounds your thought-bewildering Muse might cause 'Tis well your finger-shielding gifts prevent. SARA.
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[104:1] First published in 1796: included for the first time in Appendix to 1863. Mrs. Coleridge told her daughter (Biog. Lit., 1847, ii. 411) that she wrote but little of these verses.
LINENOTES:
Title] Epistle v. The Production of a Young Lady, &c. 1796: From a Young Lady Appendix, 1863.
REFLECTIONS ON HAVING LEFT A PLACE OF RETIREMENT[106:1]
Sermoni propriora.—HOR.
Low was our pretty Cot: our tallest Rose Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear At silent noon, and eve, and early morn, The Sea's faint murmur. In the open air Our Myrtles blossom'd; and across the porch 5 Thick Jasmins twined: the little landscape round Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye. It was a spot which you might aptly call The Valley of Seclusion! Once I saw (Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quietness) 10 A wealthy son of Commerce saunter by, Bristowa's citizen: methought, it calm'd His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse With wiser feelings: for he paus'd, and look'd With a pleas'd sadness, and gaz'd all around, 15 Then eyed our Cottage, and gaz'd round again, And sigh'd, and said, it was a Blessd Place. And we were bless'd. Oft with patient ear Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's note (Viewless, or haply for a moment seen 20 Gleaming on sunny wings) in whisper'd tones I've said to my Belovd, 'Such, sweet Girl! The inobtrusive song of Happiness, Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard When the Soul seeks to hear; when all is hush'd, 25 And the Heart listens!'
But the time, when first From that low Dell, steep up the stony Mount I climb'd with perilous toil and reach'd the top, Oh! what a goodly scene! Here the bleak mount, The bare bleak mountain speckled thin with sheep; 30 Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields; And river, now with bushy rocks o'er-brow'd, Now winding bright and full, with naked banks; And seats, and lawns, the Abbey and the wood, And cots, and hamlets, and faint city-spire; 35 The Channel there, the Islands and white sails, Dim coasts, and cloud-like hills, and shoreless Ocean— It seem'd like Omnipresence! God, methought, Had built him there a Temple: the whole World Seem'd imag'd in its vast circumference: 40 No wish profan'd my overwhelmd heart. Blest hour! It was a luxury,—to be!
Ah! quiet Dell! dear Cot, and Mount sublime! I was constrain'd to quit you. Was it right, While my unnumber'd brethren toil'd and bled, 45 That I should dream away the entrusted hours On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart With feelings all too delicate for use? Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's eye Drops on the cheek of one he lifts from earth: 50 And he that works me good with unmov'd face, Does it but half: he chills me while he aids, My benefactor, not my brother man! Yet even this, this cold beneficence Praise, praise it, O my Soul! oft as thou scann'st 55 The sluggard Pity's vision-weaving tribe! Who sigh for Wretchedness, yet shun the Wretched, Nursing in some delicious solitude Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies! I therefore go, and join head, heart, and hand, 60 Active and firm, to fight the bloodless fight Of Science, Freedom, and the Truth in Christ.
Yet oft when after honourable toil Bests the tir'd mind, and waking loves to dream, My spirit shall revisit thee, dear Cot! 65 Thy Jasmin and thy window-peeping Rose, And Myrtles fearless of the mild sea-air. And I shall sigh fond wishes—sweet Abode! Ah!—had none greater! And that all had such! It might be so—but the time is not yet. 70 Speed it, O Father! Let thy Kingdom come!
1795.
FOOTNOTES:
[106:1] First published in the Monthly Magazine, October, 1796, vol. ii, p. 712: included in 1797, 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] Reflections on entering into active life. A Poem which affects not to be Poetry M. Mag. The motto was prefixed in 1797.
[12-17]
Bristowa's citizen—he paus'd and look'd With a pleased sadness and gaz'd all around, Then eye'd our cottage and gaz'd round again, And said it was a blessed little place.
Monthly Magazine.
[17]
And sigh'd, and said, it was a blessed place.
1797, 1803.
[21] wings] wing M. M., 1797, 1803, S. L.
[21-3]
Gleaming on sunny wing,) 'And such,' I said, 'The inobtrusive song
1803.
[40] Was imag'd M. M.
[46] entrusted] trusted M. M., 1797.
[55] Seizes my Praise, when I reflect on those 1797, 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1817 (line as in text supplied in Errata).
[69] none] none M. M. all] all M. M.
[70-1] om. 1803.
RELIGIOUS MUSINGS[108:1]
A DESULTORY POEM, WRITTEN ON THE CHRISTMAS EVE OF 1794
This is the time, when most divine to hear, The voice of Adoration rouses me, As with a Cherub's trump: and high upborne, Yea, mingling with the Choir, I seem to view The vision of the heavenly multitude, 5 Who hymned the song of Peace o'er Bethlehem's fields! Yet thou more bright than all the Angel-blaze, That harbingered thy birth, Thou Man of Woes! Despisd Galilaean! For the Great Invisible (by symbols only seen) 10 With a peculiar and surpassing light Shines from the visage of the oppressed good man, When heedless of himself the scourgd saint Mourns for the oppressor. Fair the vernal mead, Fair the high grove, the sea, the sun, the stars; 15 True impress each of their creating Sire! Yet nor high grove, nor many-colour'd mead, Nor the green ocean with his thousand isles, Nor the starred azure, nor the sovran sun, E'er with such majesty of portraiture 20 Imaged the supreme beauty uncreate, As thou, meek Saviour! at the fearful hour When thy insulted anguish winged the prayer Harped by Archangels, when they sing of mercy! Which when the Almighty heard from forth his throne 25 Diviner light filled Heaven with ecstasy! Heaven's hymnings paused: and Hell her yawning mouth Closed a brief moment.
Lovely was the death Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power He on the thought-benighted Sceptic beamed 30 Manifest Godhead, melting into day What floating mists of dark idolatry Broke and misshaped the omnipresent Sire:[110:1] And first by Fear uncharmed the drowsd Soul. Till of its nobler nature it 'gan feel 35 Dim recollections; and thence soared to Hope, Strong to believe whate'er of mystic good The Eternal dooms for His immortal sons. From Hope and firmer Faith to perfect Love Attracted and absorbed: and centered there 40 God only to behold, and know, and feel, Till by exclusive consciousness of God All self-annihilated it shall make[110:2] God its Identity: God all in all! We and our Father one!
And blest are they, 45 Who in this fleshly World, the elect of Heaven, Their strong eye darting through the deeds of men, Adore with steadfast unpresuming gaze Him Nature's essence, mind, and energy! And gazing, trembling, patiently ascend 50 Treading beneath their feet all visible things As steps, that upward to their Father's throne Lead gradual—else nor glorified nor loved. They nor contempt embosom nor revenge: For they dare know of what may seem deform 55 The Supreme Fair sole operant: in whose sight All things are pure, his strong controlling love Alike from all educing perfect good. Their's too celestial courage, inly armed— Dwarfing Earth's giant brood, what time they muse 60 On their great Father, great beyond compare! And marching onwards view high o'er their heads His waving banners of Omnipotence. Who the Creator love, created Might Dread not: within their tents no Terrors walk. 65 For they are holy things before the Lord Aye unprofaned, though Earth should league with Hell; God's altar grasping with an eager hand Fear, the wild-visag'd, pale, eye-starting wretch, Sure-refug'd hears his hot pursuing fiends 70 Yell at vain distance. Soon refresh'd from Heaven He calms the throb and tempest of his heart. His countenance settles; a soft solemn bliss Swims in his eye—his swimming eye uprais'd: And Faith's whole armour glitters on his limbs! 75 And thus transfigured with a dreadless awe, A solemn hush of soul, meek he beholds All things of terrible seeming: yea, unmoved Views e'en the immitigable ministers That shower down vengeance on these latter days. 80 For kindling with intenser Deity From the celestial Mercy-seat they come, And at the renovating wells of Love Have fill'd their vials with salutary wrath,[112:1] To sickly Nature more medicinal 85 Than what soft balm the weeping good man pours Into the lone despoild traveller's wounds!
Thus from the Elect, regenerate through faith, Pass the dark Passions and what thirsty cares[112:2] Drink up the spirit, and the dim regards 90 Self-centre. Lo they vanish! or acquire New names, new features—by supernal grace Enrobed with Light, and naturalised in Heaven. As when a shepherd on a vernal morn Through some thick fog creeps timorous with slow foot, 95 Darkling he fixes on the immediate road His downward eye: all else of fairest kind Hid or deformed. But lo! the bursting Sun! Touched by the enchantment of that sudden beam Straight the black vapour melteth, and in globes 100 Of dewy glitter gems each plant and tree; On every leaf, on every blade it hangs! Dance glad the new-born intermingling rays, And wide around the landscape streams with glory!
There is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind, 105 Omnific. His most holy name is Love. Truth of subliming import! with the which Who feeds and saturates his constant soul, He from his small particular orbit flies With blest outstarting! From himself he flies, 110 Stands in the sun, and with no partial gaze Views all creation; and he loves it all, And blesses it, and calls it very good! This is indeed to dwell with the Most High! Cherubs and rapture-trembling Seraphim 115 Can press no nearer to the Almighty's throne. But that we roam unconscious, or with hearts Unfeeling of our universal Sire, And that in His vast family no Cain Injures uninjured (in her best-aimed blow 120 Victorious Murder a blind Suicide) Haply for this some younger Angel now Looks down on Human Nature: and, behold! A sea of blood bestrewed with wrecks, where mad Embattling Interests on each other rush 125 With unhelmed rage!
'Tis the sublime of man, Our noontide Majesty, to know ourselves Parts and proportions of one wondrous whole! This fraternises man, this constitutes Our charities and bearings. But 'tis God 130 Diffused through all, that doth make all one whole; This the worst superstition, him except Aught to desire, Supreme Reality![114:1] The plenitude and permanence of bliss! O Fiends of Superstition! not that oft 135 The erring Priest hath stained with brother's blood Your grisly idols, not for this may wrath Thunder against you from the Holy One! But o'er some plain that steameth to the sun, Peopled with Death; or where more hideous Trade 140 Loud-laughing packs his bales of human anguish; I will raise up a mourning, O ye Fiends! And curse your spells, that film the eye of Faith, Hiding the present God; whose presence lost, The moral world's cohesion, we become 145 An Anarchy of Spirits! Toy-bewitched, Made blind by lusts, disherited of soul, No common centre Man, no common sire Knoweth! A sordid solitary thing, Mid countless brethren with a lonely heart 150 Through courts and cities the smooth savage roams Feeling himself, his own low self the whole; When he by sacred sympathy might make The whole one Self! Self, that no alien knows! Self, far diffused as Fancy's wing can travel! 155 Self, spreading still! Oblivious of its own, Yet all of all possessing! This is Faith! This the Messiah's destined victory!
But first offences needs must come! Even now[115:1] (Black Hell laughs horrible—to hear the scoff!) 160 Thee to defend, meek Galilaean! Thee And thy mild laws of Love unutterable, Mistrust and Enmity have burst the bands Of social peace: and listening Treachery lurks With pious fraud to snare a brother's life; 165 And childless widows o'er the groaning land Wail numberless; and orphans weep for bread! Thee to defend, dear Saviour of Mankind! Thee, Lamb of God! Thee, blameless Prince of Peace! From all sides rush the thirsty brood of War!— 170 Austria, and that foul Woman of the North, The lustful murderess of her wedded lord! And he, connatural Mind![115:2] whom (in their songs So bards of elder time had haply feigned) Some Fury fondled in her hate to man, 175 Bidding her serpent hair in mazy surge Lick his young face, and at his mouth imbreathe Horrible sympathy! And leagued with these Each petty German princeling, nursed in gore! Soul-hardened barterers of human blood![116:1] 180 Death's prime slave-merchants! Scorpion-whips of Fate! Nor least in savagery of holy zeal, Apt for the yoke, the race degenerate, Whom Britain erst had blushed to call her sons! Thee to defend the Moloch Priest prefers 185 The prayer of hate, and bellows to the herd, That Deity, Accomplice Deity In the fierce jealousy of wakened wrath Will go forth with our armies and our fleets To scatter the red ruin on their foes! 190 O blasphemy! to mingle fiendish deeds With blessedness!
Lord of unsleeping Love,[116:2] From everlasting Thou! We shall not die. These, even these, in mercy didst thou form, Teachers of Good through Evil, by brief wrong 195 Making Truth lovely, and her future might Magnetic o'er the fixed untrembling heart.
In the primeval age a dateless while The vacant Shepherd wander'd with his flock, Pitching his tent where'er the green grass waved. 200 But soon Imagination conjured up An host of new desires: with busy aim, Each for himself, Earth's eager children toiled. So Property began, twy-streaming fount, Whence Vice and Virtue flow, honey and gall. 205 Hence the soft couch, and many-coloured robe, The timbrel, and arched dome and costly feast, With all the inventive arts, that nursed the soul To forms of beauty, and by sensual wants Unsensualised the mind, which in the means 210 Learnt to forget the grossness of the end, Best pleasured with its own activity. And hence Disease that withers manhood's arm, The daggered Envy, spirit-quenching Want, Warriors, and Lords, and Priests—all the sore ills[117:1] 215 That vex and desolate our mortal life. Wide-wasting ills! yet each the immediate source Of mightier good. Their keen necessities To ceaseless action goading human thought Have made Earth's reasoning animal her Lord; 220 And the pale-featured Sage's trembling hand Strong as an host of armd Deities, Such as the blind Ionian fabled erst.
From Avarice thus, from Luxury and War Sprang heavenly Science; and from Science Freedom. 225 O'er waken'd realms Philosophers and Bards Spread in concentric circles: they whose souls, Conscious of their high dignities from God, Brook not Wealth's rivalry! and they, who long Enamoured with the charms of order, hate 230 The unseemly disproportion: and whoe'er Turn with mild sorrow from the Victor's car And the low puppetry of thrones, to muse On that blest triumph, when the Patriot Sage[118:1] Called the red lightnings from the o'er-rushing cloud 235 And dashed the beauteous terrors on the earth Smiling majestic. Such a phalanx ne'er Measured firm paces to the calming sound Of Spartan flute! These on the fated day, When, stung to rage by Pity, eloquent men 240 Have roused with pealing voice the unnumbered tribes That toil and groan and bleed, hungry and blind— These, hush'd awhile with patient eye serene, Shall watch the mad careering of the storm; Then o'er the wild and wavy chaos rush 245 And tame the outrageous mass, with plastic might Moulding Confusion to such perfect forms, As erst were wont,—bright visions of the day!— To float before them, when, the summer noon, Beneath some arched romantic rock reclined 250 They felt the sea-breeze lift their youthful locks; Or in the month of blossoms, at mild eve, Wandering with desultory feet inhaled The wafted perfumes, and the flocks and woods And many-tinted streams and setting sun 255 With all his gorgeous company of clouds Ecstatic gazed! then homeward as they strayed Cast the sad eye to earth, and inly mused Why there was misery in a world so fair.
Ah! far removed from all that glads the sense, 260 From all that softens or ennobles Man, The wretched Many! Bent beneath their loads They gape at pageant Power, nor recognise Their cots' transmuted plunder! From the tree Of Knowledge, ere the vernal sap had risen 265 Rudely disbranchd! Blessed Society! Fitliest depictured by some sun-scorched waste, Where oft majestic through the tainted noon The Simoom sails, before whose purple pomp[119:1] Who falls not prostrate dies! And where by night, 270 Fast by each precious fountain on green herbs The lion couches: or hyaena dips Deep in the lucid stream his bloody jaws; Or serpent plants his vast moon-glittering bulk, Caught in whose monstrous twine Behemoth[119:2] yells, 275 His bones loud-crashing!
O ye numberless, Whom foul Oppression's ruffian gluttony Drives from Life's plenteous feast! O thou poor Wretch Who nursed in darkness and made wild by want, Roamest for prey, yea thy unnatural hand 280 Dost lift to deeds of blood! O pale-eyed form, The victim of seduction, doomed to know Polluted nights and days of blasphemy; Who in loathed orgies with lewd wassailers Must gaily laugh, while thy remembered Home 285 Gnaws like a viper at thy secret heart! O agd Women! ye who weekly catch The morsel tossed by law-forced charity, And die so slowly, that none call it murder! O loathly suppliants! ye, that unreceived 290 Totter heart-broken from the closing gates Of the full Lazar-house; or, gazing, stand, Sick with despair! O ye to Glory's field Forced or ensnared, who, as ye gasp in death, Bleed with new wounds beneath the vulture's beak! 295 O thou poor widow, who in dreams dost view Thy husband's mangled corse, and from short doze Start'st with a shriek; or in thy half-thatched cot Waked by the wintry night-storm, wet and cold Cow'rst o'er thy screaming baby! Rest awhile 300 Children of Wretchedness! More groans must rise, More blood must stream, or ere your wrongs be full. Yet is the day of Retribution nigh: The Lamb of God hath opened the fifth seal:[120:1] And upward rush on swiftest wing of fire 305 The innumerable multitude of wrongs By man on man inflicted! Rest awhile, Children of Wretchedness! The hour is nigh And lo! the Great, the Rich, the Mighty Men, The Kings and the Chief Captains of the World, 310 With all that fixed on high like stars of Heaven Shot baleful influence, shall be cast to earth, Vile and down-trodden, as the untimely fruit Shook from the fig-tree by a sudden storm. Even now the storm begins:[121:1] each gentle name, 315 Faith and meek Piety, with fearful joy Tremble far-off—for lo! the Giant Frenzy Uprooting empires with his whirlwind arm Mocketh high Heaven; burst hideous from the cell Where the old Hag, unconquerable, huge, 320 Creation's eyeless drudge, black Ruin, sits Nursing the impatient earthquake. O return! Pure Faith! meek Piety! The abhorrd Form[121:2] Whose scarlet robe was stiff with earthly pomp, Who drank iniquity in cups of gold, 325 Whose names were many and all blasphemous, Hath met the horrible judgment! Whence that cry? The mighty army of foul Spirits shrieked Disherited of earth! For she hath fallen On whose black front was written Mystery; 330 She that reeled heavily, whose wine was blood; She that worked whoredom with the Daemon Power, And from the dark embrace all evil things Brought forth and nurtured: mitred Atheism! And patient Folly who on bended knee 335 Gives back the steel that stabbed him; and pale Fear Haunted by ghastlier shapings than surround Moon-blasted Madness when he yells at midnight! Return pure Faith! return meek Piety! The kingdoms of the world are your's: each heart 340 Self-governed, the vast family of Love Raised from the common earth by common toil Enjoy the equal produce. Such delights As float to earth, permitted visitants! When in some hour of solemn jubilee 345 The massy gates of Paradise are thrown Wide open, and forth come in fragments wild Sweet echoes of unearthly melodies, And odours snatched from beds of Amaranth, And they, that from the crystal river of life 350 Spring up on freshened wing, ambrosial gales! The favoured good man in his lonely walk Perceives them, and his silent spirit drinks Strange bliss which he shall recognise in heaven. And such delights, such strange beatitudes 355 Seize on my young anticipating heart When that blest future rushes on my view! For in his own and in his Father's might The Saviour comes! While as the Thousand Years[122:1] Lead up their mystic dance, the Desert shouts! 360 Old Ocean claps his hands! The mighty Dead Rise to new life, whoe'er from earliest time With conscious zeal had urged Love's wondrous plan, Coadjutors of God. To Milton's trump The high groves of the renovated Earth 365 Unbosom their glad echoes: inly hushed, Adoring Newton his serener eye Raises to heaven: and he of mortal kind Wisest, he[123:1] first who marked the ideal tribes Up the fine fibres through the sentient brain. 370 Lo! Priestley there, patriot, and saint, and sage, Him, full of years, from his loved native land Statesmen blood-stained and priests idolatrous By dark lies maddening the blind multitude Drove with vain hate. Calm, pitying he retired, 375 And mused expectant on these promised years. |
|
