[1] fair] love Cottle, E. R.

[4]

Iphigenia, Clelia, Chloris,

M. P., Cottle, E. R., P. R.

Neaera, Laura, Daphne, Chloris,

Keepsake.

[5]

Laura, Lesbia, or Doris,

MS. 1799, M. P., Cottle, E. R.

Carina, Lalage, or Doris,

Keepsake.

[6] Dorimene, or Lucrece, MS. 1799, M. P., Cottle, E. R., P. R., Keepsake.

[8] Belovd.] Dear one Keepsake.

[9] Choose thou] Take thou M. P., P. R.: Take Cottle, E. R.

[10] Call me Laura, call me Chloris MS. 1799, Keepsake.

[10-11]

Call me Clelia, call me Chloris, Laura, Lesbia or Doris

M. P., Cottle, E. R.

[10-12]

Clelia, Iphigenia, Chloris, Laura, Lesbia, Delia, Doris, But don't forget to call me thine.

P. R.



THE DEVIL'S THOUGHTS[319:1]

I

From his brimstone bed at break of day A walking the Devil is gone, To visit his snug little farm the earth, And see how his stock goes on.

II

Over the hill and over the dale, 5 And he went over the plain, And backward and forward he switched his long tail As a gentleman switches his cane.

III

And how then was the Devil drest? Oh! he was in his Sunday's best: 10 His jacket was red and his breeches were blue, And there was a hole where the tail came through.

IV

He saw a Lawyer killing a Viper On a dunghill hard by his own stable; And the Devil smiled, for it put him in mind 15 Of Cain and his brother, Abel.

V

He saw an Apothecary on a white horse Ride by on his vocations, And the Devil thought of his old Friend Death in the Revelations.[320:1] 20

VI

He saw a cottage with a double coach-house, A cottage of gentility; And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin Is pride that apes humility.

VII

He peep'd into a rich bookseller's shop, 25 Quoth he! we are both of one college! For I sate myself, like a cormorant, once Hard by the tree of knowledge.[321:1]

VIII

Down the river did glide, with wind and tide, A pig with vast celerity; 30 And the Devil look'd wise as he saw how the while, It cut its own throat. 'There!' quoth he with a smile, 'Goes "England's commercial prosperity."'

IX

As he went through Cold-Bath Fields he saw A solitary cell; 35 And the Devil was pleased, for it gave him a hint For improving his prisons in Hell.

X

He saw a Turnkey in a trice Fetter a troublesome blade; 'Nimbly,' quoth he, 'do the fingers move 40 If a man be but used to his trade.'

XI

He saw the same Turnkey unfetter a man, With but little expedition, Which put him in mind of the long debate On the Slave-trade abolition. 45

XII

He saw an old acquaintance As he passed by a Methodist meeting;— She holds a consecrated key, And the devil nods her a greeting.

XIII

She turned up her nose, and said, 50 'Avaunt! my name's Religion,' And she looked to Mr. —— And leered like a love-sick pigeon.

XIV

He saw a certain minister (A minister to his mind) 55 Go up into a certain House, With a majority behind.

XV

The Devil quoted Genesis Like a very learnd clerk, How 'Noah and his creeping things 60 Went up into the Ark.'

XVI

He took from the poor, And he gave to the rich, And he shook hands with a Scotchman, For he was not afraid of the —— 65

XVII

General ——[323:1] burning face He saw with consternation, And back to hell his way did he take, For the Devil thought by a slight mistake It was general conflagration. 70

1799.

FOOTNOTES:

[319:1] First published in the Morning Post, September 6, 1799: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. It is printed separately as the Devil's Walk, a Poem, By Professor Porson, London, Marsh and Miller, &c., 1830. In 1827, by way of repudiating Porson's alleged authorship of The Devil's Thoughts, Southey expanded the Devil's Thoughts of 1799 into a poem of fifty-seven stanzas entitled The Devil's Walk. See P. W., 1838, iii. pp. 87-100. In the Morning Post the poem numbered fourteen stanzas; in 1828, 1829 it is reduced to ten, and in 1834 enlarged to seventeen stanzas. Stanzas iii and xiv-xvi of the text are not in the M. P. Stanzas iv and v appeared as iii, iv; stanza vi as ix; stanza vii as v; stanza viii as x; stanza ix as viii; stanza x as vi; stanza xi as vii; stanza xvii as xiv. In 1828, 1829, the poem consists of stanzas i-ix of the text, and of the concluding stanzas stanza xi ('Old Nicholas', &c.) of the M. P. version was not reprinted. Stanzas xiv-xvi of the text were first acknowledged by Coleridge in 1834.

[320:1] And I looked, and behold a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, Rev. vi. 8. M. P.

[321:1] This anecdote is related by that most interesting of the Devil's Biographers, Mr. John Milton, in his Paradise Lost, and we have here the Devil's own testimony to the truth and accuracy of it. M. P.

'And all amid them stood the TREE OF LIFE High, eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit Of vegetable gold (query paper-money), and next to Life Our Death, the TREE OF KNOWLEDGE, grew fast by.—

* * * * *

* * * * *

So clomb this first grand thief— Thence up he flew, and on the tree of life Sat like a cormorant.'—Par. Lost, iv.

The allegory here is so apt, that in a catalogue of various readings obtained from collating the MSS. one might expect to find it noted, that for 'LIFE' Cod. quid. habent, 'TRADE.' Though indeed THE TRADE, i. e. the bibliopolic, so called kat' exochn, may be regarded as LIFE sensu eminentiori; a suggestion, which I owe to a young retailer in the hosiery line, who on hearing a description of the net profits, dinner parties, country houses, etc., of the trade, exclaimed, 'Ay! that's what I call LIFE now!'—This 'Life, our Death,' is thus happily contrasted with the fruits of Authorship.—Sic nos non nobis mellificamus Apes.

Of this poem, which with the 'Fire, Famine, and Slaughter' first appeared in the Morning Post [6th Sept. 1799], the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 9th, and 16th stanzas[321:A] were dictated by Mr. Southey. See Apologetic Preface [to Fire, Famine and Slaughter]. [Between the ninth and the concluding stanza, two or three are omitted, as grounded on subjects which have lost their interest—and for better reasons. 1828, 1829.]

If any one should ask who General —— meant, the Author begs leave to inform him, that he did once see a red-faced person in a dream whom by the dress he took for a General; but he might have been mistaken, and most certainly he did not hear any names mentioned. In simple verity, the author never meant any one, or indeed any thing but to put a concluding stanza to his doggerel.

[321:A] The three first stanzas, which are worth all the rest, and the ninth 1828, 1829.

[323:1] In a MS. copy in the B. M. and in some pirated versions the blank is filled up by the word 'Gascoigne's'; but in a MS. copy taken at Highgate, in June, 1820, by Derwent Coleridge the line runs 'General Tarleton's', &c.

LINENOTES:

[3-4]

{ To look at his little snug farm of the Earth { To visit, &c.

1828, 1829.

And see how his stock went on.

M. P., 1828, 1829.

[7] switched] swish'd M. P., 1828, 1829.

[8] switches] swishes M. P., 1828, 1829.

[9-12] Not in M. P.

[14] On the dunghill beside his stable M. P.: On a dung-heap beside his stable 1828, 1829.

[15-16]

Oh! oh; quoth he, for it put him in mind Of the story of Cain and Abel

M. P.

[16] his] his 1828, 1829.

[17] He . . . on] An Apothecary on M. P.: A Pothecary on 1828, 1829.

[18] Ride] Rode M.P., 1828, 1829. vocations] vocation M. P.

[20] Revelations] Revelation M. P.

[21] saw] past M. P.

[23] And he grinn'd at the sight, for his favourite vice M. P.

[25] peep'd] went M. P., 1828, 1829.

[27] sate myself] myself sate 1828, 1829.

[28] Hard by] Upon M. P.: Fast by 1828, 1829.

[29-33]

He saw a pig right rapidly Adown the river float, The pig swam well, but every stroke Was cutting his own throat.

M. P.

[29] did glide] there plied 1828, 1829.

[Between 33-4]

Old Nicholas grinn'd and swish'd his tail For joy and admiration; And he thought of his daughter, Victory, And his darling babe, Taxation.

M. P.

[34-5]

As he went through —— —— fields he look'd At a

M. P.

[37] his] the M. P. in] of M. P.

[39] Fetter] Hand-cuff M. P.: Unfetter 1834.

[40-1]

'Nimbly', quoth he, 'the fingers move If a man is but us'd to his trade.'

M. P.

[42] unfetter] unfettering M. P.

[44] And he laugh'd for he thought of the long debates M. P.

[46] saw] met M. P.

[47] Just by the Methodist meeting. M. P.

[48] holds] held M. P. key] flag[323:A] M. P.

[323:A] The allusion is to Archbishop Randolph consecrating the Duke of York's banners. See S. T. Coleridge's Notizbuch aus den Jahren 1795-8 . . . von A. Brandl, 1896, p. 354 (p. 25 a, l. 18 of Gutch Memorandum Book, B. M. Add. MSS. 27,901).

[49] And the Devil nods a greeting. M. P.

[50-2]

She tip'd him the wink, then frown'd and cri'd 'Avaunt! my name's —— And turn'd to Mr. W——

M. P.

[66] General ——] General ——'s M. P.

[68] way did take M. P.

[70] general] General M. P.



LINES COMPOSED IN A CONCERT-ROOM[324:1]

Nor cold, nor stern, my soul! yet I detest These scented Rooms, where, to a gaudy throng, Heaves the proud Harlot her distended breast, In intricacies of laborious song.

These feel not Music's genuine power, nor deign 5 To melt at Nature's passion-warbled plaint; But when the long-breathed singer's uptrilled strain Bursts in a squall—they gape for wonderment.

Hark! the deep buzz of Vanity and Hate! Scornful, yet envious, with self-torturing sneer 10 My lady eyes some maid of humbler state, While the pert Captain, or the primmer Priest, Prattles accordant scandal in her ear.

O give me, from this heartless scene released, To hear our old Musician, blind and grey, 15 (Whom stretching from my nurse's arms I kissed,) His Scottish tunes and warlike marches play, By moonshine, on the balmy summer-night, The while I dance amid the tedded hay With merry maids, whose ringlets toss in light. 20

Or lies the purple evening on the bay Of the calm glossy lake, O let me hide Unheard, unseen, behind the alder-trees, For round their roots the fisher's boat is tied, On whose trim seat doth Edmund stretch at ease, 25 And while the lazy boat sways to and fro, Breathes in his flute sad airs, so wild and slow, That his own cheek is wet with quiet tears.

But O, dear Anne! when midnight wind careers, And the gust pelting on the out-house shed 30 Makes the cock shrilly in the rainstorm crow, To hear thee sing some ballad full of woe, Ballad of ship-wreck'd sailor floating dead, Whom his own true-love buried in the sands! Thee, gentle woman, for thy voice remeasures 35 Whatever tones and melancholy pleasures The things of Nature utter; birds or trees, Or moan of ocean-gale in weedy caves, Or where the stiff grass mid the heath-plant waves, Murmur and music thin of sudden breeze. 40

1799.

FOOTNOTES:

[324:1] First published in the Morning Post, September 24, 1799: included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. There is no evidence as to the date of composition. In a letter to Coleridge, dated July 5, 1796, Lamb writes 'Have a care, good Master Poet, of the Statute de Contumeli. What do you mean by calling Madame Mara harlots and naughty things? The goodness of the verse would not save you in a Court of Justice'—but it is by no means certain that Lamb is referring to the Lines Composed in a Concert-Room, or that there is any allusion in line 3 to Madame Mara. If, as J. D. Campbell suggested, the poem as it appeared in the Morning Post is a recast of some earlier verses, it is possible that the scene is Ottery, and that 'Edmund' is the 'Friend who died dead of' a 'Frenzy Fever' (vide ante, p. 76). In this case a probable date would be the summer of 1793. But the poem as a whole suggests a later date. Coleridge and Southey spent some weeks at Exeter in September 1799. They visited Ottery St. Mary, and walked through Newton Abbot to Ashburton and Dartmouth. It is possible that the 'Concert-Room,' the 'pert Captain,' and 'primmer Priest' are reminiscences of Exeter, the 'heath-plant,' and the 'ocean caves' of Dartmoor and Torbay. If so, the 'shame and absolute rout' (l. 49 of variant, p. 325) would refer to the victory of Suwaroff over Joubert at Novi, which took place August 15, 1799. See Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 307.

LINENOTES:

[14] heartless] loathsome M. P.

[24] Around whose roots M. P., S. L.

[40] thin] then M. P.

[After line 40]

Dear Maid! whose form in solitude I seek, Such songs in such a mood to hear thee sing, It were a deep delight!—But thou shalt fling Thy white arm round my neck, and kiss my cheek, And love the brightness of my gladder eye 45 The while I tell thee what a holier joy

It were in proud and stately step to go, With trump and timbrel clang, and popular shout, To celebrate the shame and absolute rout Unhealable of Freedom's latest foe, 50 Whose tower'd might shall to its centre nod.

When human feelings, sudden, deep and vast, As all good spirits of all ages past Were armied in the hearts of living men, Shall purge the earth, and violently sweep 55 These vile and painted locusts to the deep, Leaving un—— undebas'd A —— world made worthy of its God.

M. P.

[The words in lines 57, 58 were left as blanks in the Morning Post, from what cause or with what object must remain a matter of doubt.]



WESTPHALIAN SONG[326:1]

[The following is an almost literal translation of a very old and very favourite song among the Westphalian Boors. The turn at the end is the same with one of Mr. Dibdin's excellent songs, and the air to which it is sung by the Boors is remarkably sweet and lively.]

When thou to my true-love com'st Greet her from me kindly; When she asks thee how I fare? Say, folks in Heaven fare finely.

When she asks, 'What! Is he sick?' 5 Say, dead!—and when for sorrow She begins to sob and cry, Say, I come to-morrow.

? 1799.

FOOTNOTES:

[326:1] First published in the Morning Post, Sept. 27, 1802: reprinted in Essays on His Own Times, 1850, iii. 992. First collected in P. W., 1877-80, ii. 170.



HEXAMETERS[326:2]

PARAPHRASE OF PSALM XLVI

Gōd ĭs oŭr Strēngth ănd oŭr Rēfŭge: thērefŏre wīll wĕ nŏt trēmblĕ, Thō' thĕ Eārth bĕ rĕmōvĕd ănd thō' thĕ pĕrpētŭăl Moūntaīns Sink in the Swell of the Ocean! God is our Strength and our Refuge. There is a River the Flowing whereof shall gladden the City, Hallelujah! the City of God! Jehova shall help her. 5 Thē Idōlătĕrs rāgĕd, the kingdoms were moving in fury; But he uttered his Voice: Earth melted away from beneath them. Halleluja! th' Eternal is with us, Almighty Jehova! Fearful the works of the Lord, yea fearful his Desolations; But He maketh the Battle to cease, he burneth the Spear and the Chariot. 10 Halleluja! th' Eternal is with us, the God of our Fathers!

1799.

FOOTNOTES:

[326:2] Now published for the first time. The lines were sent in a letter to George Coleridge dated September 29, 1799. They were prefaced as follows:—'We were talking of Hexameters with you. I will, for want of something better, fill up the paper with a translation of one of my favourite Psalms into that metre which allowing trochees for spondees, as the nature of our Language demands, you will find pretty accurate a scansion.' Mahomet and, no doubt, the Hymn to the Earth may be assigned to the end of September or the beginning of October, 1799.



HYMN TO THE EARTH[327:1]

[IMITATED FROM STOLBERG'S HYMNE AN DIE ERDE]

HEXAMETERS

Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and the mother, Hail! O Goddess, thrice hail! Blest be thou! and, blessing, I hymn thee! Forth, ye sweet sounds! from my harp, and my voice shall float on your surges— Soar thou aloft, O my soul! and bear up my song on thy pinions.

Travelling the vale with mine eyes—green meadows and lake with green island, 5 Dark in its basin of rock, and the bare stream flowing in brightness, Thrilled with thy beauty and love in the wooded slope of the mountain, Here, great mother, I lie, thy child, with his head on thy bosom! Playful the spirits of noon, that rushing soft through thy tresses, Green-haired goddess! refresh me; and hark! as they hurry or linger, 10 Fill the pause of my harp, or sustain it with musical murmurs. Into my being thou murmurest joy, and tenderest sadness Shedd'st thou, like dew, on my heart, till the joy and the heavenly sadness Pour themselves forth from my heart in tears, and the hymn of thanksgiving.

Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and the mother, 15 Sister thou of the stars, and beloved by the Sun, the rejoicer! Guardian and friend of the moon, O Earth, whom the comets forget not, Yea, in the measureless distance wheel round and again they behold thee! Fadeless and young (and what if the latest birth of creation?) Bride and consort of Heaven, that looks down upon thee enamoured! 20 Say, mysterious Earth! O say, great mother and goddess, Was it not well with thee then, when first thy lap was ungirdled, Thy lap to the genial Heaven, the day that he wooed thee and won thee! Fair was thy blush, the fairest and first of the blushes of morning! Deep was the shudder, O Earth! the throe of thy self-retention: 25 Inly thou strovest to flee, and didst seek thyself at thy centre! Mightier far was the joy of thy sudden resilience; and forthwith Myriad myriads of lives teemed forth from the mighty embracement. Thousand-fold tribes of dwellers, impelled by thousand-fold instincts, Filled, as a dream, the wide waters; the rivers sang on their channels; 30 Laughed on their shores the hoarse seas; the yearning ocean swelled upward; Young life lowed through the meadows, the woods, and the echoing mountains, Wandered bleating in valleys, and warbled on blossoming branches.

1799.

FOOTNOTES:

[327:1] First published in Friendship's Offering, 1834, pp. 165-7, with other pieces, under the general heading:—Fragments from the Wreck of Memory: or Portions of Poems composed in Early Manhood: by S. T. Coleridge. A Note was prefixed:—'It may not be without use or interest to youthful, and especially to intelligent female readers of poetry, to observe that in the attempt to adapt the Greek metres to the English language, we must begin by substituting quality of sound for quantity—that is, accentuated or comparatively emphasized syllables, for what in the Greek and Latin Verse, are named long, and of which the prosodial mark is [macron]; and vice vers, unaccented syllables for short marked [breve]. Now the Hexameter verse consists of two sorts of feet, the spondee composed of two long syllables, and the dactyl, composed of one long syllable followed by two short. The following verse from the Psalms is a rare instance of a perfect hexameter (i. e. line of six feet) in the English language:—

Gōd cāme ūp wĭth ă shōut: oūr Lōrd wĭth thĕ sōund ŏf ă trūmpĕt.

But so few are the truly spondaic words in our language, such as Ēgȳpt, ūprŏar, tūrmoĭl, &c., that we are compelled to substitute, in most instances, the trochee; or [macron breve], i. e. in such words as mērry, līghtly, &c., for the proper spondee. It need only be added, that in the hexameter the fifth foot must be a dactyl, and the sixth a spondee, or trochee. I will end this note with two hexameter lines, likewise from the Psalms:—

Thēre ĭs ă rīvĕr thĕ flōwĭng whĕre ŏf shāll glāddĕn thĕ cīty, Hāllē lūjăh thĕ cīty ŏf Gŏd Jē hōvăh hăth blēst hĕr. S. T. C.'

On some proof-sheets, or loose pages of a copy of The Hymn as published in Friendship's Offering for 1834, which Coleridge annotated, no doubt with a view to his corrections being adopted in the forthcoming edition of his poems (1834), he adds in MS. the following supplementary note:—'To make any considerable number of Hexameters feasible in our monosyllabic trocheeo-iambic language, there must, I fear, be other licenses granted—in the first foot, at least—ex. gr. a superfluous [breve] prefixed in cases of particles such as 'of, 'and', and the like: likewise [macron breve macron] where the stronger accent is on the first syllable.—S. T. C.'

The Hymn to the Earth is a free translation of F. L. Stolberg's Hymne an die Erde. (See F. Freiligrath's Biographical Memoirs prefixed to the Tauchnitz edition of the Poems published in 1852.) The translation exceeds the German original by two lines. The Hexameters 'from the Psalms' are taken from a metrical experiment which Coleridge sent to his brother George, in a letter dated September 29, 1799 (vide ante). First collected in 1834. The acknowledgement that the Hymn to the Earth is imitated from Stolberg's Hymne an die Erde was first prefixed by J. D. Campbell in 1893.

LINENOTES:

[8] his] its F. O. 1834.

[9] that creep or rush through thy tresses F. O. 1834.

[33] on] in F. O. 1834.

[After 33]

* * * * *

F. O. 1834.



MAHOMET[329:1]

Utter the song, O my soul! the flight and return of Mohammed, Prophet and priest, who scatter'd abroad both evil and blessing, Huge wasteful empires founded and hallow'd slow persecution, Soul-withering, but crush'd the blasphemous rites of the Pagan And idolatrous Christians.—For veiling the Gospel of Jesus, 5 They, the best corrupting, had made it worse than the vilest. Wherefore Heaven decreed th' enthusiast warrior of Mecca, Choosing good from iniquity rather than evil from goodness. Loud the tumult in Mecca surrounding the fane of the idol;— Naked and prostrate the priesthood were laid—the people with mad shouts 10 Thundering now, and now with saddest ululation Flew, as over the channel of rock-stone the ruinous river Shatters its waters abreast, and in mazy uproar bewilder'd, Rushes dividuous all—all rushing impetuous onward.

? 1799.

FOOTNOTES:

[329:1] First published in 1834. In an unpublished letter to Southey, dated Sept. 25, 1799, Coleridge writes, 'I shall go on with the Mohammed'. There can be no doubt that these fourteen lines, which represent Coleridge's contribution to a poem on 'Mahomet' which he had planned in conjunction with Southey, were at that time already in existence. For Southey's portion, which numbered 109 lines, see Oliver Newman. By Robert Southey, 1845, pp. 113-15.



LOVE[330:1]

All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I 5 Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.

The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene Had blended with the lights of eve; 10 And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve!

She leant against the armd man, The statue of the armd knight; She stood and listened to my lay, 15 Amid the lingering light.

Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. 20

I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story— An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary.

She listened with a flitting blush, 25 With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face.

I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand; 30 And that for ten long years he wooed The Lady of the Land.

I told her how he pined: and ah! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another's love, 35 Interpreted my own.

She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace; And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face! 40

But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, And that he crossed the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night;

That sometimes from the savage den, 45 And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade,—

There came and looked him in the face An angel beautiful and bright; 50 And that he knew it was a Fiend, This miserable Knight!

And that unknowing what he did, He leaped amid a murderous band, And saved from outrage worse than death 55 The Lady of the Land!

And how she wept, and clasped his knees; And how she tended him in vain— And ever strove to expiate The scorn that crazed his brain;— 60

And that she nursed him in a cave; And how his madness went away, When on the yellow forest-leaves A dying man he lay;—

His dying words—but when I reached 65 That tenderest strain of all the ditty, My faultering voice and pausing harp Disturbed her soul with pity!

All impulses of soul and sense Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve; 70 The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, 75 Subdued and cherished long!

She wept with pity and delight, She blushed with love, and virgin-shame; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. 80

Her bosom heaved—she stepped aside, As conscious of my look she stepped— Then suddenly, with timorous eye She fled to me and wept.

She half enclosed me with her arms, 85 She pressed me with a meek embrace; And bending back her head, looked up, And gazed upon my face.

'Twas partly love, and partly fear, And partly 'twas a bashful art, 90 That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart.

I calmed her fears, and she was calm, And told her love with virgin pride; And so I won my Genevieve, 95 My bright and beauteous Bride.

1799.

FOOTNOTES:

[330:1] First published (with four preliminary and three concluding stanzas) as the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie, in the Morning Post, Dec. 21, 1799 (for complete text with introductory letter vide Appendices): included (as Love) in the Lyrical Ballads of 1800, 1802, 1805: reprinted with the text of the Morning Post in English Minstrelsy, 1810 (ii. 131-9) with the following prefatory note:—'These exquisite stanzas appeared some years ago in a London Newspaper, and have since that time been republished in Mr. Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads, but with some alterations; the Poet having apparently relinquished his intention of writing the Fate of the Dark Ladye': included (as Love) in Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The four opening and three concluding stanzas with prefatory note were republished in Literary Remains, 1836, pp. 50-2, and were first collected in 1844. For a facsimile of the MS. of Love as printed in the Lyrical Ballads, 1800 (i. 138-44), see Wordsworth and Coleridge MSS., edited by W. Hale White, 1897 (between pp. 34-5). For a collation of the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie with two MSS. in the British Museum [Add. MSS., No. 27,902] see Coleridge's Poems. A Facsimile Reproduction, &c. Ed. by James Dykes Campbell, 1899, and Appendices of this edition.

It is probable that the greater part of the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie was written either during or shortly after a visit which Coleridge paid to the Wordsworths's friends, George and Mary, and Sarah Hutchinson, at Sockburn, a farm-house on the banks of the Tees, in November, 1799. In the first draft, ll. 13-16, 'She leaned, &c.' runs thus:—

She lean'd against a grey stone rudely carv'd, The statue of an armd Knight: She lean'd in melancholy mood Amid the lingering light.

In the church at Sockburn there is a recumbent statue of an 'armed knight' (of the Conyers family), and in a field near the farm-house there is a 'Grey-Stone' which is said to commemorate the slaying of a monstrous wyverne or 'worme' by the knight who is buried in the church. It is difficult to believe that the 'armd knight' and the 'grey stone' of the first draft were not suggested by the statue in Sockburn Church, and the 'Grey-Stone' in the adjoining field. It has been argued that the Ballad of the Dark Ladi, of which only a fragment remains, was written after Coleridge returned from Germany, and that the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie, which embodies Love, was written at Stowey in 1797 or 1798. But in referring to 'the plan' of the Lyrical Ballads of 1798 (Biog. Lit., 1817, Cap. XIV, ii. 3) Coleridge says that he had written the Ancient Mariner, and was preparing the Dark Ladie and the Christabel (both unpublished poems when this Chapter was written), but says nothing of so typical a poem as Love. By the Dark Ladi he must have meant the unfinished Ballad of the Dark Ladi, which, at one time, numbered 190 lines, not the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie, which later on he refers to as the 'poem entitled Love' (Biog. Lit., 1817, Cap. XXIV, ii. 298), and which had appeared under that title in the Lyrical Ballads of 1800, 1802, and 1805.

In Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834, Love, which was the first in order of a group of poems with the sub-title 'Love Poems', was prefaced by the following motto:—

Quas humilis tenero stylus olim effudit in aevo, Perlegis hic lacrymas, et quod pharetratus acuta Ille puer puero fecit mihi cuspide vulnus. Omnia paulatim consumit longior aetas, Vivendoque simul morimur, rapimurque manendo. Ipse mihi collatus enim non ille videbor: Frons alia est, moresque alii, nova mentis imago, Voxque aliud sonat— Pectore nunc gelido calidos miseremur amantes, Jamque arsisse pudet. Veteres tranquilla tumultus Mens horret, relegensque alium putat ista locutum. PETRARCH.

LINENOTES:

Title] Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie M. P.: Fragment, S. T. Coleridge English Minstrelsy, 1810.

Opening stanzas

O leave the Lilly on its stem; O leave the Rose upon the spray; O leave the Elder-bloom, fair Maids! And listen to my lay.

A Cypress and a Myrtle bough, This morn around my harp you twin'd, Because it fashion'd mournfully Its murmurs in the wind.

And now a Tale of Love and Woe, A woeful Tale of Love I sing: Hark, gentle Maidens, hark! it sighs And trembles on the string.

But most, my own dear Genevieve! It sighs and trembles most for thee! O come and hear what cruel wrongs Befel the dark Ladie.

The fifth stanza of the Introduction finds its place as the fifth stanza of the text, and the sixth stanza as the first.

[3] All are] Are all S. L. (For Are all r. All are. Errata, p. [xi]).

[5-6]

O ever in my waking dreams I dwell upon

M. P., MS. erased.

[7] lay] sate M. P.

[15] lay] harp M. P., MS., L. B.

[21] soft] sad M. P., MS. erased.

[22] sang] sung E. M.

[23] suited] fitted M. P., MS., L. B.

[24] That ruin] The Ruin M. P., MS., L. B.: The ruins E. M.

[29] that] who M. P.

[31] that] how M. P.

[34] The low, the deep MS., L. B.

[35] In which I told E. M.

[42] That] Which MS., L. B. that] this M. P., MS., L. B.

[43] And how he roam'd M. P. that] how MS. erased.

[Between 44-5]

And how he cross'd the Woodman's paths [path E. M.] Tho' briars and swampy mosses beat, How boughs rebounding scourg'd his limbs, And low stubs gor'd his feet.

M. P.

[45] That] How M. P., MS. erased.

[51] that] how M. P., MS. erased.

[53] that] how M. P., MS. erased.

[54] murderous] lawless M. P.

[59] ever] meekly M. P. For still she MS. erased.

[61] that] how M. P., MS. erased.

[78] virgin-] maiden-M. P., MS., L. B.

[79] murmur] murmurs M. P.

[Between 80-1]

{ heave I saw her bosom { [*rise*] and swell, Heave and swell with inward sighs— I could not choose but love to see Her gentle bosom rise.

M. P., MS. erased.

[81] Her wet cheek glowed M. P., MS. erased.

[84] fled] flew M. P.

[94] virgin] maiden MS. erased.

[95] so] thus M. P.

[After 96]

And now once more a tale of woe, A woeful tale of love I sing; For thee, my Genevieve! it sighs, And trembles on the string.

When last I sang [sung E. M.] the cruel scorn That craz'd this bold and lonely [lovely E. M.] knight, And how he roam'd the mountain woods, Nor rested day or night;

I promis'd thee a sister tale Of Man's perfidious Cruelty; Come, then, and hear what cruel wrong Befel the Dark Ladie.

End of the Introduction M. P.



ODE TO GEORGIANA, DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE[335:1]

ON THE TWENTY-FOURTH STANZA IN HER 'PASSAGE OVER MOUNT GOTHARD'

And hail the Chapel! hail the Platform wild! Where Tell directed the avenging dart, With well-strung arm, that first preservst his child, Then aim'd the arrow at the tyrant's heart.

Splendour's fondly-fostered child! And did you hail the platform wild, Where once the Austrian fell Beneath the shaft of Tell! O Lady, nursed in pomp and pleasure! 5 Whence learn'd you that heroic measure?

Light as a dream your days their circlets ran, From all that teaches brotherhood to Man Far, far removed! from want, from hope, from fear! Enchanting music lulled your infant ear, 10 Obeisance, praises soothed your infant heart: Emblazonments and old ancestral crests, With many a bright obtrusive form of art, Detained your eye from Nature: stately vests, That veiling strove to deck your charms divine, 15 Rich viands, and the pleasurable wine, Were yours unearned by toil; nor could you see The unenjoying toiler's misery. And yet, free Nature's uncorrupted child, You hailed the Chapel and the Platform wild, 20 Where once the Austrian fell Beneath the shaft of Tell! O Lady, nursed in pomp and pleasure! Whence learn'd you that heroic measure?

There crowd your finely-fibred frame 25 All living faculties of bliss; And Genius to your cradle came, His forehead wreathed with lambent flame, And bending low, with godlike kiss Breath'd in a more celestial life; 30 But boasts not many a fair compeer A heart as sensitive to joy and fear? And some, perchance, might wage an equal strife, Some few, to nobler being wrought, Corrivals in the nobler gift of thought. 35 Yet these delight to celebrate Laurelled War and plumy State; Or in verse and music dress Tales of rustic happiness— Pernicious tales! insidious strains! 40 That steel the rich man's breast, And mock the lot unblest, The sordid vices and the abject pains, Which evermore must be The doom of ignorance and penury! 45 But you, free Nature's uncorrupted child, You hailed the Chapel and the Platform wild, Where once the Austrian fell Beneath the shaft of Tell! O Lady, nursed in pomp and pleasure! 50 Whence learn'd you that heroic measure?

You were a Mother! That most holy name, Which Heaven and Nature bless, I may not vilely prostitute to those Whose infants owe them less 55 Than the poor caterpillar owes Its gaudy parent fly. You were a mother! at your bosom fed The babes that loved you. You, with laughing eye, Each twilight-thought, each nascent feeling read, 60 Which you yourself created. Oh! delight! A second time to be a mother, Without the mother's bitter groans: Another thought, and yet another, By touch, or taste, by looks or tones, 65 O'er the growing sense to roll, The mother of your infant's soul! The Angel of the Earth, who, while he guides[337:1] His chariot-planet round the goal of day, All trembling gazes on the eye of God 70 A moment turned his awful face away; And as he viewed you, from his aspect sweet New influences in your being rose, Blest intuitions and communions fleet With living Nature, in her joys and woes! 75 Thenceforth your soul rejoiced to see The shrine of social Liberty! O beautiful! O Nature's child! 'Twas thence you hailed the Platform wild, Where once the Austrian fell 80 Beneath the shaft of Tell! O Lady, nursed in pomp and pleasure! Thence learn'd you that heroic measure.

1799.

FOOTNOTES:

[335:1] First published in the Morning Post, December 24, 1799 (in four numbered stanzas): included in the Annual Anthology, 1800, in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The Duchess's poem entitled 'Passage over Mount Gothard' was published in the Morning Chronicle on Dec. 20 and in the Morning Post, Dec. 21, 1799.

[337:1] In a copy of the Annual Anthology Coleridge drew his pen through ll. 68-77, but the lines appeared in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, and in all later editions (see P. W., 1898, p. 624).

LINENOTES:

Ode to Georgiana, &c.—Motto 4

Then wing'd the arrow to

M. P., An. Anth.

Sub-title] On the 24{th} stanza in her Poem, entitled 'The Passage of the Mountain of St. Gothard.' M. P.

[1-2]

Lady, Splendor's foster'd child And did you

M. P.

[2] you] you An. Anth.

[7] your years their courses M. P.

[9] Ah! far remov'd from want and hope and fear M. P.

[11] Obeisant praises M. P.

[14] stately] gorgeous M. P.

[15] om. An. Anth.

[31 foll.]

But many of your many fair compeers [But many of thy many fair compeers M. P.] Have frames as sensible of joys and fears; And some might wage an equal strife

An. Anth.

[34-5]

(Some few perchance to nobler being wrought), Corrivals in the plastic powers of thought.

M. P.

[35] Corrivals] co-rivals An. Anth., S. L. 1828.

[36] these] these S. L. 1828, 1829.

[40] insidious] insulting M. P.

[45] penury] poverty M. P., An. Anth.

[47] Hail'd the low Chapel M. P., An. Anth.

[51] Whence] Where An. Anth., S. L. 1828, 1829.

[56] caterpillar] Reptile M. P., An. Anth.

[60] each] and M. P.

[72] you] thee M. P.

[73] your] thy M. P.

[76] O Lady thence ye joy'd to see M. P.



A CHRISTMAS CAROL[338:1]

I

The shepherds went their hasty way, And found the lowly stable-shed Where the Virgin-Mother lay: And now they checked their eager tread, For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung, 5 A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung.

II

They told her how a glorious light, Streaming from a heavenly throng, Around them shone, suspending night! While sweeter than a mother's song, 10 Blest Angels heralded the Saviour's birth, Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.

III

She listened to the tale divine, And closer still the Babe she pressed; And while she cried, the Babe is mine! 15 The milk rushed faster to her breast: Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn; Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.

IV

Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace, Poor, simple, and of low estate! 20 That strife should vanish, battle cease, O why should this thy soul elate? Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story,— Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?

V

And is not War a youthful king, 25 A stately Hero clad in mail? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring; Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail Their friend, their playmate! and his bold bright eye Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh. 30

VI

'Tell this in some more courtly scene, To maids and youths in robes of state! I am a woman poor and mean, And therefore is my soul elate. War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, 35 That from the agd father tears his child!

VII

'A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, He kills the sire and starves the son; The husband kills, and from her board Steals all his widow's toil had won; 40 Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.

VIII

'Then wisely is my soul elate, That strife should vanish, battle cease: I'm poor and of a low estate, 45 The Mother of the Prince of Peace. Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn: Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.'

1799.

FOOTNOTES:

[338:1] First published in the Morning Post, December 25, 1799: included in the Annual Anthology, 1800, in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834.

LINENOTES:

A Christmas Carol—8: a] an M. P., An. Anth.

[10] While] And M. P.

[35] War is a ruffian Thief, with gore defil'd M. P., An. Anth.

[37] fiend] Thief M. P., An. Anth.

[41] rends] tears M. P.

[After 49]

Strange prophecy! Could half the screams Of half the men that since have died To realise War's kingly dreams, Have risen at once in one vast tide, The choral music of Heav'n's multitude Had been o'erpower'd, and lost amid the uproar rude! ESTEESI.

M. P., An. Anth.



TALLEYRAND TO LORD GRENVILLE[340:1]

A METRICAL EPISTLE

[As printed in Morning Post for January 10, 1800.]

To the Editor of The Morning Post.

MR. EDITOR,—An unmetrical letter from Talleyrand to Lord Grenville has already appeared, and from an authority too high to be questioned: otherwise I could adduce some arguments for the exclusive authenticity of the following metrical epistle. The very epithet which the wise ancients used, 'aurea carmina,' might have been supposed likely to have determined the choice of the French minister in favour of verse; and the rather when we recollect that this phrase of 'golden verses' is applied emphatically to the works of that philosopher who imposed silence on all with whom he had to deal. Besides is it not somewhat improbable that Talleyrand should have preferred prose to rhyme, when the latter alone has got the chink? Is it not likewise curious that in our official answer no notice whatever is taken of the Chief Consul, Bonaparte, as if there had been no such person [man Essays, &c., 1850] existing; notwithstanding that his existence is pretty generally admitted, nay that some have been so rash as to believe that he has created as great a sensation in the world as Lord Grenville, or even the Duke of Portland? But the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Talleyrand, is acknowledged, which, in our opinion, could not have happened had he written only that insignificant prose-letter, which seems to precede Bonaparte's, as in old romances a dwarf always ran before to proclaim the advent or arrival of knight or giant. That Talleyrand's character and practices more resemble those of some regular Governments than Bonaparte's I admit; but this of itself does not appear a satisfactory explanation. However, let the letter speak for itself. The second line is supererogative in syllables, whether from the oscitancy of the transcriber, or from the trepidation which might have overpowered the modest Frenchman, on finding himself in the act of writing to so great a man, I shall not dare to determine. A few Notes are added by Your servant, GNOME.

P.S.—As mottoes are now fashionable, especially if taken from out of the way books, you may prefix, if you please, the following lines from Sidonius Apollinaris:

'Saxa, et robora, corneasque fibras Mollit dulciloqu canorus arte!'

TALLEYRAND, MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS AT PARIS, TO LORD GRENVILLE, SECRETARY OF STATE IN GREAT BRITAIN FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS, AUDITOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, A LORD OF TRADE, AN ELDER BROTHER OF TRINITY HOUSE, ETC.

My Lord! though your Lordship repel deviation From forms long establish'd, yet with high consideration, I plead for the honour to hope that no blame Will attach, should this letter begin with my name. I dar'd not presume on your Lordship to bounce, 5 But thought it more exquisite first to announce!

My Lord! I've the honour to be Talleyrand, And the letter's from me! you'll not draw back your hand Nor yet take it up by the rim in dismay, As boys pick up ha'pence on April fool-day. 10 I'm no Jacobin foul, or red-hot Cordelier That your Lordship's ungauntleted fingers need fear An infection or burn! Believe me, 'tis true, With a scorn like another I look down on the crew That bawl and hold up to the mob's detestation 15 The most delicate wish for a silent persuasion. A form long-establish'd these Terrorists call Bribes, perjury, theft, and the devil and all! And yet spite of all that the Moralist[341:1] prates, 'Tis the keystone and cement of civilized States. 20 Those American Reps![342:1] And i' faith, they were serious! It shock'd us at Paris, like something mysterious, That men who've a Congress—But no more of 't! I'm proud To have stood so distinct from the Jacobin crowd.

My Lord! though the vulgar in wonder be lost at 25 My transfigurations, and name me Apostate, Such a meaningless nickname, which never incens'd me, Cannot prejudice you or your Cousin against me: I'm Ex-bishop. What then? Burke himself would agree That I left not the Church—'twas the Church that left me. My titles prelatic I lov'd and retain'd, 31 As long as what I meant by Prelate remain'd: And tho' Mitres no longer will pass in our mart, I'm episcopal still to the core of my heart. No time from my name this my motto shall sever: 35 'Twill be Non sine pulvere palma[342:2] for ever!

Your goodness, my Lord, I conceive as excessive, Or I dar'd not present you a scroll so digressive; And in truth with my pen thro' and thro' I should strike it; But I hear that your Lordship's own style is just like it. 40 Dear my Lord, we are right: for what charms can be shew'd In a thing that goes straight like an old Roman road? The tortoise crawls straight, the hare doubles about; And the true line of beauty still winds in and out. It argues, my Lord! of fine thoughts such a brood in us 45 To split and divide into heads multitudinous, While charms that surprise (it can ne'er be denied us) Sprout forth from each head, like the ears from King Midas. Were a genius of rank, like a commonplace dunce, Compell'd to drive on to the main point at once, 50 What a plentiful vintage of initiations[342:3] Would Noble Lords lose in your Lordship's orations. My fancy transports me! As mute as a mouse, And as fleet as a pigeon, I'm borne to the house Where all those who are Lords, from father to son, 55 Discuss the affairs of all those who are none. I behold you, my Lord! of your feelings quite full, 'Fore the woolsack arise, like a sack full of wool! You rise on each Anti-Grenvillian Member, Short, thick and blustrous, like a day in November![343:1] 60 Short in person, I mean: for the length of your speeches Fame herself, that most famous reporter, ne'er reaches. Lo! Patience beholds you contemn her brief reign, And Time, that all-panting toil'd after in vain, (Like the Beldam who raced for a smock with her grand-child) 65 Drops and cries: 'Were such lungs e'er assign'd to a man-child?' Your strokes at her vitals pale Truth has confess'd, And Zeal unresisted entempests your breast![343:2] Though some noble Lords may be wishing to sup, Your merit self-conscious, my Lord, keeps you up, 70 Unextinguish'd and swoln, as a balloon of paper Keeps aloft by the smoke of its own farthing taper. Ye SIXTEENS[343:3] of Scotland, your snuffs ye must trim; Your Geminies, fix'd stars of England! grow dim, And but for a form long-establish'd, no doubt 75 Twinkling faster and faster, ye all would go out.

Apropos, my dear Lord! a ridiculous blunder Of some of our Journalists caused us some wonder: It was said that in aspect malignant and sinister In the Isle of Great Britain a great Foreign Minister 80 Turn'd as pale as a journeyman miller's frock coat is On observing a star that appear'd in BOOTES! When the whole truth was this (O those ignorant brutes!) Your Lordship had made his appearance in boots. You, my Lord, with your star, sat in boots, and the Spanish Ambassador thereupon thought fit to vanish. 86

But perhaps, dear my Lord, among other worse crimes, The whole was no more than a lie of The Times. It is monstrous, my Lord! in a civilis'd state That such Newspaper rogues should have license to prate. 90 Indeed printing in general—but for the taxes, Is in theory false and pernicious in praxis! You and I, and your Cousin, and Abb Sieyes, And all the great Statesmen that live in these days, Are agreed that no nation secure is from vi'lence 95 Unless all who must think are maintain'd all in silence. This printing, my Lord—but 'tis useless to mention What we both of us think—'twas a cursd invention, And Germany might have been honestly prouder Had she left it alone, and found out only powder. 100 My Lord! when I think of our labours and cares Who rule the Department of foreign affairs, And how with their libels these journalists bore us, Though Rage I acknowledge than Scorn less decorous; Yet their presses and types I could shiver in splinters, 105 Those Printers' black Devils! those Devils of Printers! In case of a peace—but perhaps it were better To proceed to the absolute point of my letter: For the deep wounds of France, Bonaparte, my master, Has found out a new sort of basilicon plaister. 110 But your time, my dear Lord! is your nation's best treasure, I've intruded already too long on your leisure; If so, I entreat you with penitent sorrow To pause, and resume the remainder to-morrow.

1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[340:1] First published in the Morning Post, January 10, 1800: reprinted in Essays on His Own Times, 1850, i. 233-7. First collected P. and D. W., 1877, 1880.

[341:1] This sarcasm on the writings of moralists is, in general, extremely just; but had Talleyrand continued long enough in England, he might have found an honourable exception in the second volume of Dr. Paley's Moral Philosophy; in which both Secret Influence, and all the other Established Forms, are justified and placed in their true light.

[342:1] A fashionable abbreviation in the higher circles for Republicans. Thus Mob was originally the Mobility.

[342:2] Palma non sine pulvere In plain English, an itching palm, not without the yellow dust.

[342:3] The word Initiations is borrowed from the new Constitution, and can only mean, in plain English, introductory matter. If the manuscript would bear us out, we should propose to read the line thus: 'What a plentiful Verbage, what Initiations!' inasmuch as Vintage must necessarily refer to wine, really or figuratively; and we cannot guess what species Lord Grenville's eloquence may be supposed to resemble, unless, indeed, it be Cowslip wine. A slashing critic to whom we read the manuscript, proposed to read, 'What a plenty of Flowers—what initiations!' and supposes it may allude indiscriminately to Poppy Flowers, or Flour of Brimstone. The most modest emendation, perhaps, would be this—for Vintage read Ventage.

[343:1] We cannot sufficiently admire the accuracy of this simile. For as Lord Grenville, though short, is certainly not the shortest man in the House, even so is it with the days in November.

[343:2] An evident plagiarism of the Ex-Bishop's from Dr. Johnson:—

'Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting Time toil'd after him in vain: His pow'rful strokes presiding Truth confess'd, And unresisting Passion storm'd the breast.'

[343:3] This line and the following are involved in an almost Lycophrontic tenebricosity. On repeating them, however, to an Illuminant, whose confidence I possess, he informed me (and he ought to know, for he is a Tallow-chandler by trade) that certain candles go by the name of sixteens. This explains the whole, the Scotch Peers are destined to burn out—and so are candles! The English are perpetual, and are therefore styled Fixed Stars! The word Geminies is, we confess, still obscure to us; though we venture to suggest that it may perhaps be a metaphor (daringly sublime) for the two eyes which noble Lords do in general possess. It is certainly used by the poet Fletcher in this sense, in the 31st stanza of his Purple Island:—

'What! shall I then need seek a patron out, Or beg a favour from a mistress' eyes, To fence my song against the vulgar rout, And shine upon me with her geminies?'

LINENOTES:

[14] With a scorn, like your own Essay, &c., 1850.



APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA[345:1]

The poet in his lone yet genial hour Gives to his eyes a magnifying power: Or rather he emancipates his eyes From the black shapeless accidents of size— In unctuous cones of kindling coal, 5 Or smoke upwreathing from the pipe's trim hole, His gifted ken can see Phantoms of sublimity.

1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[345:1] Included in the text of The Historie and Gests of Maxilian: first published in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, January, 1822, vol. xi, p. 12. The lines were taken from a MS. note-book, dated August 28, 1800. First collected P. and D. W., 1877-80.

LINENOTES:

Title] The Poet's ken P. W., 1885: Apologia, &c. 1907.

[1-4]

The poet's eye in his tipsy hour Hath a magnifying power Or rather emancipates his eyes Of the accidents of size

MS.

[5] cones] cone MS.

[6] Or smoke from his pipe's bole MS.

[7] His eye can see MS.



THE KEEPSAKE[345:2]

The tedded hay, the first fruits of the soil, The tedded hay and corn-sheaves in one field, Show summer gone, ere come. The foxglove tall Sheds its loose purple bells, or in the gust, Or when it bends beneath the up-springing lark, 5 Or mountain-finch alighting. And the rose (In vain the darling of successful love) Stands, like some boasted beauty of past years, The thorns remaining, and the flowers all gone. Nor can I find, amid my lonely walk 10 By rivulet, or spring, or wet roadside, That blue and bright-eyed floweret of the brook, Hope's gentle gem, the sweet Forget-me-not![346:1] So will not fade the flowers which Emmeline With delicate fingers on the snow-white silk 15 Has worked (the flowers which most she knew I loved), And, more beloved than they, her auburn hair.

In the cool morning twilight, early waked By her full bosom's joyous restlessness, Softly she rose, and lightly stole along, 20 Down the slope coppice to the woodbine bower, Whose rich flowers, swinging in the morning breeze, Over their dim fast-moving shadows hung, Making a quiet image of disquiet In the smooth, scarcely moving river-pool. 25 There, in that bower where first she owned her love, And let me kiss my own warm tear of joy From off her glowing cheek, she sate and stretched The silk upon the frame, and worked her name Between the Moss-Rose and Forget-me-not— 30 Her own dear name, with her own auburn hair! That forced to wander till sweet spring return, I yet might ne'er forget her smile, her look, Her voice, (that even in her mirthful mood Has made me wish to steal away and weep,) 35 Nor yet the enhancement of that maiden kiss With which she promised, that when spring returned, She would resign one half of that dear name, And own thenceforth no other name but mine!

? 1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[345:2] First published in the Morning Post, September 17, 1802 (signed, ESTSE): included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834. 'It had been composed two years before' (1802), Note, 1893, p. 624. Mr. Campbell may have seen a dated MS. Internal evidence would point to the autumn of 1802, when it was published in the Morning Post.

[346:1] One of the names (and meriting to be the only one) of the Myosotis Scorpioides Palustris, a flower from six to twelve inches high, with blue blossom and bright yellow eye. It has the same name over the whole Empire of Germany (Vergissmeinnicht) and, we believe, in Denmark and Sweden.

LINENOTES:

[1] om. M. P.

[2] one] one M. P.

[12] Line 13 precedes line 12 M. P.

[17] they] all M. P.

[19] joyous] joyless S. L. 1828.

[19-21]

joyous restlessness, Leaving the soft bed to her sister, Softly she rose, and lightly stole along, Her fair face flushing in the purple dawn, Adown the meadow to the woodbine bower

M. P.

[Between 19-20] Leaving the soft bed to her sleeping sister S. L. 1817.

[25] scarcely moving] scarcely-flowing M. P.

[39] thenceforth] henceforth M. P.



A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY A VIEW[347:1]

OF SADDLEBACK IN CUMBERLAND

On stern Blencartha's perilous height The winds are tyrannous and strong; And flashing forth unsteady light From stern Blencartha's skiey height, As loud the torrents throng! 5 Beneath the moon, in gentle weather, They bind the earth and sky together. But oh! the sky and all its forms, how quiet! The things that seek the earth, how full of noise and riot!

1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[347:1] First published in the Amulet, 1833, reprinted in Friendship's Offering, 1834: included in Essays on His Own Times, 1850, iii. 997. First collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80. These lines are inserted in one of the Malta Notebooks, and appear from the context to have been written at Olevano in 1806; but it is almost certain that they belong to the autumn of 1800 when Coleridge made a first acquaintance of 'Blencathara's rugged coves'. The first line is an adaptation of a line in a poem of Isaac Ritson, quoted in Hutchinson's History of Cumberland, a work which supplied him with some of the place-names in the Second Part of Christabel. Compare, too, a sentence in a letter to Sir H. Davy of Oct. 18, 1800:—'At the bottom of the Carrock Man . . . the wind became so fearful and tyrannous, etc.'

LINENOTES:

Title] A Versified Reflection F. O. 1834. In F. O. 1834, the lines were prefaced by a note:—[A Force is the provincial term in Cumberland for any narrow fall of water from the summit of a mountain precipice. The following stanza (it may not arrogate the name of poem) or versified reflection was composed while the author was gazing on three parallel Forces on a moonlight night, at the foot of the Saddleback Fell. S. T. C.] A —— by the view of Saddleback, near Threlkeld in Cumberland, Essays, &c.

[1] Blencartha's] Blenkarthur's MS.: Blencarthur's F. O.: Blenharthur's Essays, &c., 1850.

[2] The wind is F. O.

[4] Blencartha's] Blenkarthur's MS.: Blencarthur's F. O.: Blenharthur's Essays, &c., 1850.

[8] oh!] ah! Essays, &c.



THE MAD MONK[347:2]

I heard a voice from Etna's side; Where o'er a cavern's mouth That fronted to the south A chesnut spread its umbrage wide: A hermit or a monk the man might be; 5 But him I could not see: And thus the music flow'd along, In melody most like to old Sicilian song:

'There was a time when earth, and sea, and skies, The bright green vale, and forest's dark recess, 10 With all things, lay before mine eyes In steady loveliness: But now I feel, on earth's uneasy scene, Such sorrows as will never cease;— I only ask for peace; 15 If I must live to know that such a time has been!' A silence then ensued: Till from the cavern came A voice;—it was the same! And thus, in mournful tone, its dreary plaint renew'd: 20

'Last night, as o'er the sloping turf I trod, The smooth green turf, to me a vision gave Beneath mine eyes, the sod— The roof of Rosa's grave!

My heart has need with dreams like these to strive, 25 For, when I woke, beneath mine eyes I found The plot of mossy ground, On which we oft have sat when Rosa was alive.— Why must the rock, and margin of the flood, Why must the hills so many flow'rets bear, 30 Whose colours to a murder'd maiden's blood, Such sad resemblance wear?—

'I struck the wound,—this hand of mine! For Oh, thou maid divine, I lov'd to agony! 35 The youth whom thou call'd'st thine Did never love like me!

'Is it the stormy clouds above That flash'd so red a gleam? On yonder downward trickling stream?— 40 'Tis not the blood of her I love.— The sun torments me from his western bed, Oh, let him cease for ever to diffuse Those crimson spectre hues! Oh, let me lie in peace, and be for ever dead!' 45

Here ceas'd the voice. In deep dismay, Down thro' the forest I pursu'd my way.

1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[347:2] First published in the Morning Post, October 13, 1800 (signed Cassiani junior): reprinted in Wild Wreath (By M. E. Robinson), 1804, pp. 141-4. First collected in P. W., 1880 (ii, Supplement, p. 362).

LINENOTES:

Title] The Voice from the Side of Etna; or the Mad Monk: An Ode in Mrs. Ratcliff's Manner M. P.

[8] to] an M. P.

[14] sorrows] motions M. P.

[16] Then wherefore must I know M. P.

[23] I saw the sod M. P.

[26] woke] wak'd M. P.

[27] The] That M. P.

[28] On which so oft we sat M. P.

[31] a wounded woman's blood M. P.

[38-9]

It is the stormy clouds above That flash

M. P.

[After 47]

The twilight fays came forth in dewy shoon Ere I within the Cabin had withdrawn The goatherd's tent upon the open lawn— That night there was no moon.

M. P.



INSCRIPTION FOR A SEAT BY THE ROAD SIDE HALF-WAY UP A STEEP HILL FACING SOUTH[349:1]

Thou who in youthful vigour rich, and light With youthful thoughts dost need no rest! O thou, To whom alike the valley and the hill Present a path of ease! Should e'er thine eye Glance on this sod, and this rude tablet, stop! 5 'Tis a rude spot, yet here, with thankful hearts, The foot-worn soldier and his family Have rested, wife and babe, and boy, perchance Some eight years old or less, and scantly fed, Garbed like his father, and already bound 10 To his poor father's trade. Or think of him Who, laden with his implements of toil, Returns at night to some far distant home, And having plodded on through rain and mire With limbs o'erlaboured, weak from feverish heat, 15 And chafed and fretted by December blasts, Here pauses, thankful he hath reached so far, And 'mid the sheltering warmth of these bleak trees Finds restoration—or reflect on those Who in the spring to meet the warmer sun 20 Crawl up this steep hill-side, that needlessly Bends double their weak frames, already bowed By age or malady, and when, at last, They gain this wished-for turf, this seat of sods, Repose—and, well-admonished, ponder here 25 On final rest. And if a serious thought Should come uncalled—how soon thy motions high, Thy balmy spirits and thy fervid blood Must change to feeble, withered, cold and dry, Cherish the wholesome sadness! And where'er 30 The tide of Life impel thee, O be prompt To make thy present strength the staff of all, Their staff and resting-place—so shalt thou give To Youth the sweetest joy that Youth can know; And for thy future self thou shalt provide 35 Through every change of various life, a seat, Not built by hands, on which thy inner part, Imperishable, many a grievous hour, Or bleak or sultry may repose—yea, sleep The sleep of Death, and dream of blissful worlds, 40 Then wake in Heaven, and find the dream all true.

1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[349:1] First published in the Morning Post, October 21, 1800 (Coleridge's birthday) under the signature VENTIFRONS: reprinted in the Lake Herald, November 2, 1906. Now first included in Coleridge's Poetical Works. Venti Frons is dog-Latin for Windy Brow, a point of view immediately above the River Greta, on the lower slope of Latrigg. Here it was that on Wednesday, August 13, 1800, Wordsworth, his sister Dorothy, and Coleridge 'made the Windy Brow seat'—a 'seat of sods'. In a letter to his printers, Biggs and Cottle, of October 10, 1800, Wordsworth says that 'a friend [the author of the Ancient Mariner, &c.] has also furnished me with a few of these Poems in the second volume [of the Lyrical Ballads] which are classed under the title of "Poems on the Naming of Places"' (Wordsworth and Coleridge MSS., Ed. W. Hale White, 1897, pp. 27, 28). No such poems or poem appeared, and it has been taken for granted that none were ever written. At any rate one 'Inscription', now at last forthcoming, was something more than a 'story from the land of dreams'!



A STRANGER MINSTREL[350:1]

WRITTEN [TO MRS. ROBINSON,] A FEW WEEKS BEFORE HER DEATH

As late on Skiddaw's mount I lay supine, Midway th' ascent, in that repose divine When the soul centred in the heart's recess Hath quaff'd its fill of Nature's loveliness, Yet still beside the fountain's marge will stay 5 And fain would thirst again, again to quaff; Then when the tear, slow travelling on its way, Fills up the wrinkles of a silent laugh— In that sweet mood of sad and humorous thought A form within me rose, within me wrought 10 With such strong magic, that I cried aloud, 'Thou ancient Skiddaw by thy helm of cloud, And by thy many-colour'd chasms deep, And by their shadows that for ever sleep, By yon small flaky mists that love to creep 15 Along the edges of those spots of light, Those sunny islands on thy smooth green height, And by yon shepherds with their sheep, And dogs and boys, a gladsome crowd, That rush e'en now with clamour loud 20 Sudden from forth thy topmost cloud, And by this laugh, and by this tear, I would, old Skiddaw, she were here! A lady of sweet song is she, Her soft blue eye was made for thee! 25 O ancient Skiddaw, by this tear, I would, I would that she were here!'

Then ancient Skiddaw, stern and proud, In sullen majesty replying, Thus spake from out his helm of cloud 30 (His voice was like an echo dying!):— 'She dwells belike in scenes more fair, And scorns a mount so bleak and bare.'

I only sigh'd when this I heard, Such mournful thoughts within me stirr'd 35 That all my heart was faint and weak, So sorely was I troubled! No laughter wrinkled on my cheek, But O the tears were doubled! But ancient Skiddaw green and high 40 Heard and understood my sigh; And now, in tones less stern and rude, As if he wish'd to end the feud, Spake he, the proud response renewing (His voice was like a monarch wooing):— 45 'Nay, but thou dost not know her might, The pinions of her soul how strong! But many a stranger in my height Hath sung to me her magic song, Sending forth his ecstasy 50 In her divinest melody, And hence I know her soul is free, She is where'er she wills to be, Unfetter'd by mortality! Now to the "haunted beach" can fly,[352:1] 55 Beside the threshold scourged with waves, Now where the maniac wildly raves, "Pale moon, thou spectre of the sky!"[352:2] No wind that hurries o'er my height Can travel with so swift a flight. 60 I too, methinks, might merit The presence of her spirit! To me too might belong The honour of her song and witching melody, Which most resembles me, 65 Soft, various, and sublime, Exempt from wrongs of Time!'

Thus spake the mighty Mount, and I Made answer, with a deep-drawn sigh:— Thou ancient Skiddaw, by this tear, 70 I would, I would that she were here!'

November, 1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[350:1] First published in Memoirs of the late Mrs. Robinson, Written by herself. With some Posthumous Pieces, 1801, iv. 141: reprinted in Poetical Works of the late Mrs. Mary Robinson, 1806, i. xlviii, li. First collected in P. W., 1877-80.

[352:1] 'The Haunted Beach,' by Mrs. Robinson, was included in the Annual Anthology for 1800.

[352:2] From 'Jasper', a ballad by Mrs. Robinson, included in the Annual Anthology for 1800.

LINENOTES:

[1] Skiddaw's] Skiddaw 1801.

[8] wrinkles] wrinkle 1801.

[13] chasms so deep 1801.

[17] sunny] sunshine 1801.

[32] in] by 1801.

[38] on] now 1801.

[57] Now to the maniac while he raves 1801.



ALCAEUS TO SAPPHO[353:1]

How sweet, when crimson colours dart Across a breast of snow, To see that you are in the heart That beats and throbs below.

All Heaven is in a maiden's blush, 5 In which the soul doth speak, That it was you who sent the flush Into the maiden's cheek.

Large steadfast eyes! eyes gently rolled In shades of changing blue, 10 How sweet are they, if they behold No dearer sight than you.

And, can a lip more richly glow, Or be more fair than this? The world will surely answer, No! 15 I, SAPPHO, answer, Yes!

Then grant one smile, tho' it should mean A thing of doubtful birth; That I may say these eyes have seen The fairest face on earth! 20

1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[353:1] First published in the Morning Post, November 24, 1800: reprinted in Letters from the Lake Poets, 1889, p. 16. It is probable that these lines, sent in a letter to Daniel Stuart (Editor of the Morning Post), dated October 7, 1800, were addressed to Mrs. Robinson, who was a frequent contributor of verses signed 'Sappho'. A sequence of Sonnets entitled 'Sappho to Phaon' is included in the collected edition of her Poems, 1806, iii. 63-107.



THE TWO ROUND SPACES ON THE TOMBSTONE[353:2]

The Devil believes that the Lord will come, Stealing a march without beat of drum, About the same time that he came last, On an Old Christmas-day in a snowy blast: Till he bids the trump sound neither body nor soul stirs, 5 For the dead men's heads have slipt under their bolsters.

Oh! ho! brother Bard, in our churchyard, Both beds and bolsters are soft and green; Save one alone, and that's of stone, And under it lies a Counsellor keen. 10 'Twould be a square tomb, if it were not too long; And 'tis fenced round with irons sharp, spear-like, and strong.

This fellow from Aberdeen hither did skip With a waxy face and a blubber lip, And a black tooth in front, to show in part 15 What was the colour of his whole heart. This Counsellor sweet, This Scotchman complete, (The Devil scotch him for a snake!) I trust he lies in his grave awake. 20 On the sixth of January, When all around is white with snow, As a Cheshire yeoman's dairy, Brother Bard, ho! ho! believe it, or no, On that stone tomb to you I'll show 25 Two round spaces void of snow. I swear by our Knight, and his forefathers' souls, That in size and shape they are just like the holes In the house of privity Of that ancient family. 30 On those two places void of snow, There have sat in the night for an hour or so, Before sunrise, and after cock-crow, He kicking his heels, she cursing her corns, All to the tune of the wind in their horns, 35 The Devil and his Grannam, With a snow-blast to fan 'em; Expecting and hoping the trumpet to blow, For they are cock-sure of the fellow below!

1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[353:2] First published in the Morning Post, December 4, 1800: reprinted in Fraser's Magazine both in February and in May, 1833, and in Payne Collier's Old Man's Diary, i. 35. First collected in P. W., 1834, with the following Prefatory Note:—'See the apology for the "Fire, Famine, and Slaughter", in first volume. This is the first time the author ever published these lines. He would have been glad, had they perished; but they have now been printed repeatedly in magazines, and he is told that the verses will not perish. Here, therefore, they are owned, with a hope that they will be taken—as assuredly they were composed—in mere sport.' These lines, which were directed against Sir James Mackintosh, were included in a letter to [Sir] Humphry Davy, dated October 9, 1800. There is a MS. version in the British Museum in the handwriting of R. Heber, presented by him to J. Mitford. Mr. Campbell questions the accuracy of Coleridge's statement with regard to his never having published the poem on his own account. But it is possible that Davy may have sent the lines to the Press without Coleridge's authority. Daniel Stuart, the Editor of the Morning Post, in the Gentleman's Magazine for May, 1838, says that 'Coleridge sent one [poem] attacking Mackintosh, too obviously for me not to understand it, and of course it was not published. Mackintosh had had one of his front teeth broken and the stump was black'. Stuart remembered that the lines attacking his brother-in-law had been suppressed, but forgot that he had inserted the rest of the poem. The poem as printed in 1893, despite the heading, does not follow the text of the Morning Post.

LINENOTES:

Title] Skeltoniad (To be read in the Recitative Lilt) MS. Letter: The Two Round Spaces; A Skeltoniad M. P.

[1] The Devil believes the Fraser (1).

[3] time] hour MS. Letter, M. P., Fraser (1), Collier. At the same hour MS. H.

[4] an Old] a cold Fraser (1): On Old MS. H.

[5] neither] nor MS. Letter, M. P.: Till he bids the trump blow nor Fraser (2): Till the trump then shall sound no Collier: Until that time not a body or MS. H.

[6] their] the Collier.

[7] Oh! ho!] Ho! Ho! M. P., MS. H.: Oho Fraser (1). Brother Collier. our] our MS. Letter.

[8] Both bed and bolster Fraser (2). The graves and bolsters MS. H.

[9] Except one alone MS. H.

[10] under] in Fraser (2).

[11] This tomb would be square M. P.: 'Twould be a square stone if it were not so long Fraser (1). It would be square MS. H. tomb] grave Collier.

[12] And 'tis railed round with iron tall M. P.: And 'tis edg'd round with iron Fraser (1): 'Tis fenc'd round with irons tall Fraser (2): And 'tis fenc'd round with iron tall Collier. 'tis] its MS. H.

[13-20] om. M. P.

[13] From Aberdeen hither this fellow MS. Letter. hither] here Fraser (2).

[14] blubber] blabber MS. Letter, Fraser (1), (2), MS. H.

[15] in front] before MS. H.

[17] Counsellor] lawyer so MS. H.

[19] The Devil] Apollyon MS. Letter. scotch] scotch Collier.

[20] trust] hope Collier.] (A humane wish) Note in MS. Letter.

[21] sixth] seventh M. P., Collier: fifth MS. H.

[22] When all is white both high and low MS. Letter, M. P., Fraser (2), Collier, MS. H.: When the ground All around Is as white as snow Fraser (1).

[23] As] Or Fraser (1): Like MS. H.

[24] ho! ho!] oho! Fraser (1). it] me M. P.

[25] stone] tall MS. Letter, M. P., Fraser (2), Collier. On the stone to you MS. H.

[25-6] om. Fraser (1).

[Between 25-6] After sunset and before cockcrow M. P. Before sunrise and after cockcrow Fraser (2).

[26] void] clear M. P.

[27] I swear by the might Of the darkness of night, I swear by the sleep of our forefathers' souls Fraser (1). souls] soul MS. H.

[26-8] om. Fraser (2).

[28] Both in shape and size MS. Letter: Both in shape and in size M. P.: That in shape and size they resembled Fraser (1), Collier: That in shape and size they are just like the Hole MS. H.

[29] In the large house M. P.

[29-30]

In mansions not seen by the general eye Of that right ancient family.

Fraser (1).

[31] two] round MS. Letter. places] spaces Collier, MS. H. void] clear M. P.

[32] Have sat Fraser (1), (2): There have sat for an hour MS. H.

[33] om. MS. Letter, M. P.

[36] Devil] De'il M. P.

[37] With the snow-drift M. P.: With a snow-blast to fan MS. Letter.

[38] Expecting and wishing the trumpet would blow Collier.



THE SNOW-DROP[356:1]

1

Fear no more, thou timid Flower! Fear thou no more the winter's might, The whelming thaw, the ponderous shower, The silence of the freezing night! Since Laura murmur'd o'er thy leaves 5 The potent sorceries of song, To thee, meek Flowret! gentler gales And cloudless skies belong.

2

Her eye with tearful meanings fraught, She gaz'd till all the body mov'd 10 Interpreting the Spirit's thought— The Spirit's eager sympathy Now trembled with thy trembling stem, And while thou droopedst o'er thy bed, With sweet unconscious sympathy 15 Inclin'd the drooping head.[357:1]

3

She droop'd her head, she stretch'd her arm, She whisper'd low her witching rhymes, Fame unreluctant heard the charm, And bore thee to Pierian climes! 20 Fear thou no more the Matin Frost That sparkled on thy bed of snow; For there, mid laurels ever green, Immortal thou shalt blow.

4

Thy petals boast a white more soft, 25 The spell hath so perfumd thee, That careless Love shall deem thee oft A blossom from his Myrtle tree. Then, laughing at the fair deceit, Shall race with some Etesian wind 30 To seek the woven arboret Where Laura lies reclin'd.

5

All them whom Love and Fancy grace, When grosser eyes are clos'd in sleep, The gentle spirits of the place 35 Waft up the insuperable steep, On whose vast summit broad and smooth Her nest the Phoenix Bird conceals, And where by cypresses o'erhung The heavenly Lethe steals. 40

6

A sea-like sound the branches breathe, Stirr'd by the Breeze that loiters there; And all that stretch their limbs beneath, Forget the coil of mortal care. Strange mists along the margins rise, 45 To heal the guests who thither come, And fit the soul to re-endure Its earthly martyrdom.

7*

The margin dear to moonlight elves Where Zephyr-trembling Lilies grow, 50 And bend to kiss their softer selves That tremble in the stream below:— There nightly borne does Laura lie A magic Slumber heaves her breast: Her arm, white wanderer of the Harp, 55 Beneath her cheek is prest.

8*

The Harp uphung by golden chains Of that low wind which whispers round, With coy reproachfulness complains, In snatches of reluctant sound: 60 The music hovers half-perceiv'd, And only moulds the slumberer's dreams; Remember'd LOVES relume her cheek With Youth's returning gleams.

1800.

FOOTNOTES:

[356:1] First published in P. W., 1893. The two last stanzas[*] were omitted as 'too imperfect to print'. The MS. bears the following heading: LINES WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE PERUSAL OF MRS. ROBINSON'S SNOW DROP.

To the Editor of the Morning Post.

Sir,

I am one of your many readers who have been highly gratified by some extracts from Mrs. Robinson's 'Walsingham': you will oblige me by inserting the following lines [sic] immediately on the perusal of her beautiful poem 'The Snow Drop'.—ZAGRI.

The 'Lines' were never sent or never appeared in the Morning Post.

To the Snow Drop.

1

Fear thou no more the wintry storm, Sweet Flowret, blest by LAURA'S song: She gaz'd upon thy slender form, The mild Enchantress gaz'd so long; That trembling as she saw thee droop, Poor Trembler! o'er thy snowy bed, With imitation's sympathy She too inclin'd her head.

2

She droop'd her head, she stretch'd her arm, She whisper'd low her witching rhymes: A gentle Sylphid heard the charm, And bore thee to Pierian climes! Fear thou no more the sparkling Frost, The Tempest's Howl, the Fog-damp's gloom: For thus mid laurels evergreen Immortal thou shalt bloom!

3 [Stanza 2]

With eager [*feelings*] unreprov'd With [*steady eye and brooding thought*] Her eye with tearful meanings fraught, [*My Fancy saw her gaze at thee*] She gaz'd till all the body mov'd [*Till all the moving body caught,*] Interpreting, the Spirit's sympathy— The Spirit's eager sympathy Now trembled with thy trembling stem, And while thou drooped'st o'er thy bed, With sweet unconscious sympathy Inclin'd { her [*portraiture*] { the drooping head. First draft of Stanzas 1-3. MS. S. T. C.

[357:1] The second stanza of Mrs. Robinson's ('Perdita') 'Ode to the Snow-drop' runs thus:

All weak and wan, with head inclin'd, Its parent-breast the drifted snow, It trembles, while the ruthless wind Bends its slim form; the tempest lowers, Its em'rald eye drops crystal show'rs On its cold bed below.

The Poetical Works of the late Mrs. Mary Robinson, 1806, i. 123.

LINENOTES:

[36] insuperable] unvoyageable MS. erased.

[53-4]

Along that marge does Laura lie Full oft where Slumber heaves her breast

MS. erased.

[64] With Beauty's morning gleams MS. erased.



ON REVISITING THE SEA-SHORE[359:1]

AFTER LONG ABSENCE, UNDER STRONG MEDICAL RECOMMENDATION NOT TO BATHE

God be with thee, gladsome Ocean! How gladly greet I thee once more! Ships and waves, and ceaseless motion, And men rejoicing on thy shore.

Dissuading spake the mild Physician, 5 'Those briny waves for thee are Death!' But my soul fulfilled her mission, And lo! I breathe untroubled breath!

Fashion's pining sons and daughters, That seek the crowd they seem to fly, 10 Trembling they approach thy waters; And what cares Nature, if they die?

Me a thousand hopes and pleasures A thousand recollections bland, Thoughts sublime, and stately measures, 15 Revisit on thy echoing strand:

Dreams (the Soul herself forsaking), Tearful raptures, boyish mirth; Silent adorations, making A blessed shadow of this Earth! 20

O ye hopes, that stir within me, Health comes with you from above! God is with me, God is in me! I cannot die, if Life be Love.

August, 1801.

FOOTNOTES:

[359:1] First published in the Morning Post (signed Estse), September 15, 1801: included in the Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The lines were sent in an unpublished letter to Southey dated August 15, 1801. An autograph MS. is in the possession of Miss Arnold of Foxhow.

LINENOTES:

Title] A flowering weed on the sweet Hill of Poesy MS. Letter, 1801: Ode After Bathing in the Sea, Contrary to Medical Advice M. P. After bathing in the Sea at Scarborough in company with T. Hutchinson. Aug. 1801 MS. A.

[3] ceaseless] endless MS. Letter, M. P., MS. A.

[4] men] life MS. Letter, M. P., MS. A.

[5]

{ mild MS. A. Gravely said the { sage Physician MS. Letter:

Mildly said the mild Physician M. P.

[6] To bathe me on thy shores were death MS. Letter, M. P., MS. A.

[10] That love the city's gilded sty MS. Letter, M. P., MS. A.

[13] hopes] loves MS. Letter, MS. A.

[16] echoing] sounding MS. Letter, M. P., MS. A.

[18] Grief-like transports MS. Letter, M. P., MS. A.



ODE TO TRANQUILLITY[360:1]

Tranquillity! thou better name Than all the family of Fame! Thou ne'er wilt leave my riper age To low intrigue, or factious rage; For oh! dear child of thoughtful Truth, 5 To thee I gave my early youth, And left the bark, and blest the steadfast shore, Ere yet the tempest rose and scared me with its roar.

Who late and lingering seeks thy shrine, On him but seldom, Power divine, 10 Thy spirit rests! Satiety And Sloth, poor counterfeits of thee, Mock the tired worldling. Idle Hope And dire Remembrance interlope, To vex the feverish slumbers of the mind: 15 The bubble floats before, the spectre stalks behind.

But me thy gentle hand will lead At morning through the accustomed mead; And in the sultry summer's heat Will build me up a mossy seat; 20 And when the gust of Autumn crowds, And breaks the busy moonlight clouds, Thou best the thought canst raise, the heart attune, Light as the busy clouds, calm as the gliding moon.

The feeling heart, the searching soul, 25 To thee I dedicate the whole! And while within myself I trace The greatness of some future race, Aloof with hermit-eye I scan The present works of present man— 30 A wild and dream-like trade of blood and guile, Too foolish for a tear, too wicked for a smile!

1801.

FOOTNOTES:

[360:1] First published in the Morning Post (with two additional stanzas at the commencement of the poem), December 4, 1801: reprinted in The Friend (without heading or title), No. 1, Thursday, June 1, 1809: included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The stanzas were not indented in the Morning Post or The Friend.

LINENOTES:

Title] Vix ea nostra voco M. P.

[Before 1]

What Statesmen scheme and Soldiers work, Whether the Pontiff or the Turk, Will e'er renew th' expiring lease Of Empire; whether War or Peace Will best play off the CONSUL'S game; What fancy-figures, and what name Half-thinking, sensual France, a natural Slave, On those ne'er-broken Chains, her self-forg'd Chains, will grave;

Disturb not me! Some tears I shed When bow'd the Swiss his noble head; Since then, with quiet heart have view'd Both distant Fights and Treaties crude, Whose heap'd up terms, which Fear compels, (Live Discord's green Combustibles, And future Fuel of the funeral Pyre) Now hide, and soon, alas! will feed the low-burnt Fire.