FOOTNOTES:
[441:1] First published in _Friendship's Offering_ for 1834, as the
first of four 'Lightheartednesses in Rhyme'. A motto was prefixed:--'I
expect no sense, worth listening to, from the man who never does talk
nonsense,'--_Anon._ In _F. O._, 1834, Chisholm was printed C---- in line
14, C----m in lines 35, 56, and 60, C----m's in line 43. In 1834, 1844
the name was omitted altogether. The text of the present edition follows
the MS. First collected in _P. W._, 1834. A MS. version is in the
possession of Miss Edith Coleridge. These lines were included in 1844,
but omitted from 1852, 1863, and 1870.
[442:1] The English Parnassus is remarkable for its two summits of
unequal height, the lower denominated Hampstead, the higher Highgate.
[443:1] Compare '_The Eighth Commandment_ was not made for Love', l. 16
of Elegy I of _The Love Elegies of Abel Shufflebottom_, by R. Southey.
LINENOTES:
Title] The Reproof and Reply (the alternative title is omitted) 1834.
[31] Mary H----] Mary ---- 1834, 1844.
[38] Did lure the] Lured the wild F. O. 1834.
FIRST ADVENT OF LOVE[443:2]
O FAIR is Love's first hope to gentle mind!
As Eve's first star thro' fleecy cloudlet peeping;
And sweeter than the gentle south-west wind.
O'er willowy meads, and shadow'd waters creeping,
And Ceres' golden fields;--the sultry hind 5
Meets it with brow uplift, and stays his reaping.
? 1824.
FOOTNOTES:
[443:2] First published in 1834. In a MS. note, dated September 1827, it
is included in 'Relics of my School-boy Muse: i. e. fragments of poems
composed before my fifteenth year', _P. W._, 1852, Notes, p. 379; but in
an entry in a notebook dated 1824, Coleridge writes: 'A pretty
unintended couplet in the prose of Sidney's _Arcadia_:--
'And, sweeter than a gentle south-west wind
O'er flowery fields and shadowed waters creeping
In summer's extreme heat.'
The passage which Coleridge versified is to be found in the _Arcadia_:--
'Her breath is more sweet than a gentle south-west wind, which
comes creeping over flowing fields and shadowed waters in the
heat of summer.'
LINENOTES:
Title] Love's First Hope 1893.
THE DELINQUENT TRAVELLERS[443:3]
Some are home-sick--some two or three,
Their third year on the Arctic Sea--
Brave Captain Lyon tells us so[444:1]--
Spite of those charming Esquimaux.
But O, what scores are sick of Home, 5
Agog for Paris or for Rome!
Nay! tho' contented to abide,
You should prefer your own fireside;
Yet since grim War has ceas'd its madding,
And Peace has set John Bull agadding, 10
'Twould such a vulgar taste betray,
For very shame you must away!
'What? not yet seen the coast of France!
The folks will swear, for lack of bail,
You've spent your last five years in jail!' 15
Keep moving! Steam, or Gas, or Stage,
Hold, cabin, steerage, hencoop's cage--
Tour, Journey, Voyage, Lounge, Ride, Walk,
Skim, Sketch, Excursion, Travel-talk--
For move you must! 'Tis now the rage, 20
The law and fashion of the Age.
If you but perch, where Dover tallies,
So strangely with the coast of Calais,
With a good glass and knowing look,
You'll soon get matter for a book! 25
Or else, in Gas-car, take your chance
Like that adventurous king of France,
Who, once, with twenty thousand men
Went up--and then came down again;
At least, he moved if nothing more: 30
And if there's nought left to explore,
Yet while your well-greased wheels keep spinning,
The traveller's honoured name you're winning,
And, snug as Jonas in the Whale,
You may loll back and dream a tale. 35
Move, or be moved--there's no protection,
Our Mother Earth has ta'en the infection--
(That rogue Copernicus, 'tis said
First put the whirring in her head,)
A planet She, and can't endure 40
T'exist without her annual Tour:
The _name_ were else a mere misnomer,
Since Planet is but Greek for _Roamer_.
The atmosphere, too, can do no less
Than ventilate her emptiness, 45
Bilks turn-pike gates, for no one cares,
And gives herself a thousand airs--
While streams and shopkeepers, we see,
Will have their run toward the sea--
And if, meantime, like old King Log, 50
Or ass with tether and a clog,
Must graze at home! to yawn and bray
'I guess we shall have rain to-day!'
Nor clog nor tether can be worse
Than the dead palsy of the purse. 55
Money, I've heard a wise man say,
Makes herself wings and flys away:
Ah! would She take it in her head
To make a pair for me instead!
At all events, the Fancy's free, 60
No traveller so bold as she.
From Fear and Poverty released
I'll saddle Pegasus, at least,
And when she's seated to her mind,
I within I can mount behind: 65
And since this outward I, you know,
Must stay because he cannot go,
My fellow-travellers shall be they
Who go because they cannot stay--
Rogues, rascals, sharpers, blanks and prizes, 70
Delinquents of all sorts and sizes,
Fraudulent bankrupts, Knights burglarious,
And demireps of means precarious--
All whom Law thwarted, Arms or Arts,
Compel to visit foreign parts, 75
All hail! No compliments, I pray,
I'll follow where you lead the way!
But ere we cross the main once more,
Methinks, along my native shore,
Dismounting from my steed I'll stray 80
Beneath the cliffs of Dumpton Bay.[446:1]
Where, Ramsgate and Broadstairs between,
Rude caves and grated doors are seen:
And here I'll watch till break of day,
(For Fancy in her magic might 85
Can turn broad noon to starless night!)
When lo! methinks a sudden band
Of smock-clad smugglers round me stand.
Denials, oaths, in vain I try,
At once they gag me for a spy, 90
And stow me in the boat hard by.
Suppose us fairly now afloat,
Till Boulogne mouth receives our Boat.
But, bless us! what a numerous band
Of cockneys anglicise the strand! 95
Delinquent bankrupts, leg-bail'd debtors,
Some for the news, and some for letters--
With hungry look and tarnished dress,
French shrugs and British surliness.
Sick of the country for their sake 100
Of them and France _French leave_ I take--
And lo! a transport comes in view
I hear the merry motley crew,
Well skill'd in pocket to make entry,
Of Dieman's Land the elected Gentry, 105
And founders of Australian Races.--
The Rogues! I see it in their faces!
Receive me, Lads! I'll go with you,
Hunt the black swan and kangaroo,
And that New Holland we'll presume 110
Old England with some elbow-room.
Across the mountains we will roam,
And each man make himself a home:
Or, if old habits ne'er forsaking,
Like clock-work of the Devil's making, 115
Ourselves inveterate rogues should be,
We'll have a virtuous progeny;
And on the dunghill of our vices
Raise human pine-apples and spices.
Of all the children of John Bull 120
With empty heads and bellies full,
Who ramble East, West, North and South,
With leaky purse and open mouth,
In search of varieties exotic
The usefullest and most patriotic, 125
And merriest, too, believe me, Sirs!
Are your Delinquent Travellers!
1824.
FOOTNOTES:
[443:3] From an hitherto unpublished MS., formerly in the possession of
Coleridge's friend and amanuensis Joseph Henry Green.
[444:1] _The Private Journal of Captain G. F. Lyon of the Mt. Hecla,
during the recent voyage of discovery under Captain Parry_, was
published by John Murray in 1824. In a letter dated May, 1823, Lucy
Caroline Lamb writes to Murray:--'If there is yet time, do tell Captain
Lyon, that I, and others far bettor than I am, are enchanted with his
book.' _Memoirs . . . of John Murray_, 1891, i. 145.
[446:1] A coast village near Ramsgate. Coleridge passed some weeks at
Ramsgate in the late autumn of 1824.
WORK WITHOUT HOPE[447:1]
LINES COMPOSED 21ST FEBRUARY 1825
All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair--
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--[447:2]
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, 5
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! 10
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.
1825.
FOOTNOTES:
[447:1] First printed in the _Bijou_ for 1828: included in 1828, 1829,
and 1834. These lines, as published in the _Bijou_ for 1828, were an
excerpt from an entry in a notebook, dated Feb. 21, 1825. They were
preceded by a prose introduction, now for the first time printed, and
followed by a metrical interpretation or afterthought which was first
published in the Notes to the Edition of 1893. For an exact reproduction
of the prose and verse as they appear in the notebook, vide Appendices
of this edition.
[447:2] Compare the last stanza of George Herbert's _Praise_:--
O raise me thus! Poor Bees that work all day,
Sting my delay,
Who have a work as well as they,
And much, much more.
LINENOTES:
Title] Lines composed on a day in February. By S. T. Coleridge, Esq.
Bijou: Lines composed on the 21st of February, 1827 1828, 1829, 1834.
[1] Slugs] Snails erased MS. S. T. C.: Stags 1828, 1829, 1885.
[11]
{ With unmoist lip and wreathless brow I stroll
{ With lips unmoisten'd wreathless brow I stroll MS. S. T. C.
_SANCTI DOMINICI PALLIUM_[448:1]
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN POET AND FRIEND
FOUND WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF AT THE BEGINNING OF BUTLER'S 'BOOK OF
THE CHURCH' (1825)
POET
I note the moods and feelings men betray,
And heed them more than aught they do or say;
The lingering ghosts of many a secret deed
Still-born or haply strangled in its birth;
_These_ best reveal the smooth man's inward creed! 5
_These_ mark the spot where lies the treasure--Worth!
Milner, made up of impudence and trick,[448:2]
With cloven tongue prepared to hiss and lick,
Rome's Brazen Serpent--boldly dares discuss
The roasting of thy heart, O brave John Huss! 10
And with grim triumph and a truculent glee[448:3]
Absolves anew the Pope-wrought perfidy,
That made an empire's plighted faith a lie,
And fix'd a broad stare on the Devil's eye--
(Pleas'd with the guilt, yet envy-stung at heart 15
To stand outmaster'd in his own black art!)
Yet Milner--
FRIEND
Enough of Milner! we're agreed,
Who now defends would then have done the deed.
But who not feels persuasion's gentle sway,
Who but must meet the proffered hand half way 20
When courteous Butler--
POET (_aside_)
(Rome's smooth go-between!)
FRIEND
Laments the advice that soured a milky queen--
(For 'bloody' all enlightened men confess
An antiquated error of the press:)
Who rapt by zeal beyond her sex's bounds, 25
With actual cautery staunched the Church's wounds!
And tho' he deems, that with too broad a blur
We damn the French and Irish massacre,
Yet _blames_ them both--and thinks the Pope _might_ err!
What think you now? Boots it with spear and shield 30
Against such gentle foes to take the field
Whose beckoning hands the mild Caduceus wield?
POET
What think I now? Even what I thought before;--
What Milner boasts though Butler may deplore,
Still I repeat, words lead me not astray 35
When the _shown_ feeling points a different way.
Smooth Butler can say grace at slander's feast,[449:1]
And bless each haut-gout cook'd by monk or priest;
Leaves the full lie on Milner's gong to swell,
Content with half-truths that do just as well; 40
But duly decks his mitred comrade's flanks,[450:1]
And with him shares the Irish nation's thanks!
So much for you, my friend! who own a Church,
And would not leave your mother in the lurch!
But when a Liberal asks me what I think-- 45
Scared by the blood and soot of Cobbett's ink,
And Jeffrey's glairy phlegm and Connor's foam,
In search of some safe parable I roam--
An emblem sometimes may comprise a tome!
Disclaimant of his uncaught grandsire's mood, 50
I see a tiger lapping kitten's food:
And who shall blame him that he purs applause,
When brother Brindle pleads the good old cause;
And frisks his pretty tail, and half unsheathes his claws!
Yet not the less, for modern lights unapt, 55
I trust the bolts and cross-bars of the laws
More than the Protestant milk all newly lapt,
Impearling a tame wild-cat's whisker'd jaws!
1825, or 1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[448:1] First published in the _Evening Standard_, May 21, 1827. 'The
poem signed ΕΣΤΗΣΕ appeared likewise in the _St. James's
Chronicle_.' See Letter of S. T. C. to J. Blanco White, dated Nov. 28,
1827. _Life_, 1845, i. 439, 440. First collected in 1834. I have amended
the text of 1834 in lines 7, 17, 34, 39 in accordance with a MS. in the
possession of the poet's granddaughter, Miss Edith Coleridge. The poem
as published in 1834 and every subsequent edition (except 1907) is
meaningless. Southey's _Book of the Church_, 1825, was answered by
Charles Butler's _Book of the Roman Catholic Church_, 1825, and in an
anonymous pamphlet by the Vicar Apostolic, Dr. John Milner, entitled
_Merlin's Strictures_. Southey retaliated in his _Vindiciae Ecclesiae
Anglicanae_, 1826. In the latter work he addresses Butler as 'an
honourable and courteous opponent'--and contrasts his 'habitual
urbanity' with the malignant and scurrilous attacks of that
'ill-mannered man', Dr. Milner. In the 'Dialogue' the poet reminds his
'Friend' Southey that Rome is Rome, a 'brazen serpent', charm she never
so wisely. In the _Vindiciae_ Southey devotes pp. 470-506 to an excursus
on 'The Rosary'--the invention of St. Dominic. Hence the title--'Sancti
Dominici Pallium'.
[448:2] These lines were written before this Prelate's decease.
_Standard, 1827._
[448:3] Trŭcŭlĕnt: a tribrach as the isochronous substitute for the
Trochee ¯ ˘. N. B. If our accent, a _quality_ of sound were actually
equivalent to the _Quantity_ in the Greek ¯ ˘ ¯, or dactyl ¯ ˘ ˘ at
least. But it is not so, accent shortens syllables: thus Spīrĭt, sprite;
Hŏnĕy, mŏnĕy, nŏbŏdy, &c. _MS. S. T. C._
[449:1] 'Smooth Butler.' See the Rev. Blanco White's Letter to C.
Butler, Esq. _MS. S. T. C._, _Sd. 1827_.
[450:1] 'Your coadjutor the Titular Bishop Milner'--Bishop of Castabala
I had called him, till I learnt from the present pamphlet that he had
been translated to the see of Billingsgate.' _Vind. Ecl. Angl. 1826_, p.
228, _note_.
LINENOTES:
Title]--A dialogue written on a Blank Page of Butler's Book of the Roman
Catholic Church. Sd. 1827.
[7] Milner] ---- 1834, 1852: Butler 1893.
[17] Milner--Milner] ----, ---- 1834, 1852: Butler--Butler 1893. Yet
Milner] Yet Miln-- Sd. 1827.
[25] Who with a zeal that passed Sd. 1827.
[30] spear] helm Sd. 1827.
[32] beckoning] proffered Sd. 1827.
[34] Milner] ---- 1834, 1852: Butler 1893. boasts] lauds Sd. 1827.
[35] repeat] reply Sd. 1827.
[38] or] and Sd. 1827.
[39] Milner's] ----'s 1834, 1852: Butler's 1893.
[42] Irish] the O'Gorman MS. S. T. C., Sd. 1827.
[46] blood and soot] soot and blood Sd. 1827.
[55] lights] sights Sd. 1827.
SONG[450:2]
Though veiled in spires of myrtle-wreath,
Love is a sword which cuts its sheath,
And through the clefts itself has made,
We spy the flashes of the blade!
But through the clefts itself has made 5
We likewise see Love's flashing blade,
By rust consumed, or snapt in twain;
And only hilt and stump remain.
? 1825.
FOOTNOTES:
[450:2] First published in 1828: included in 1852, 1885, and 1893. A MS.
version (undated) is inscribed in a notebook.
LINENOTES:
Title] Love, a Sword 1893.
[1] Tho' hid in spiral myrtle wreath MS.
[2] which] that MS.
[3] slits itself hath made MS.
[4] flashes] glitter MS.
[5] clefts] slits MS.
[6-8]
We spy no less, too, that the Blade,
Is cut away or snapt atwain
And nought but Hilt or Stump remain.
MS.
A CHARACTER[451:1]
A bird, who for his other sins
Had liv'd amongst the Jacobins;
Though like a kitten amid rats,
Or callow tit in nest of bats,
He much abhorr'd all democrats; 5
Yet nathless stood in ill report
Of wishing ill to Church and Court,
Tho' he'd nor claw, nor tooth, nor sting,
And learnt to pipe God save the King;
Tho' each day did new feathers bring, 10
All swore he had a leathern wing;
Nor polish'd wing, nor feather'd tail,
Nor down-clad thigh would aught avail;
And tho'--his tongue devoid of gall--
He civilly assur'd them all:-- 15
'A bird am I of Phoebus' breed,
And on the sunflower cling and feed;
My name, good Sirs, is Thomas Tit!'
The bats would hail him Brother Cit,
Or, at the furthest, cousin-german. 20
At length the matter to determine,
He publicly denounced the vermin;
He spared the mouse, he praised the owl;
But bats were neither flesh nor fowl.
Blood-sucker, vampire, harpy, goul, 25
Came in full clatter from his throat,
Till his old nest-mates chang'd their note
To hireling, traitor, and turncoat,--
A base apostate who had sold
His very teeth and claws for gold;-- 30
And then his feathers!--sharp the jest--
No doubt he feather'd well his nest!
'A Tit indeed! aye, tit for tat--
With place and title, brother Bat,
We soon shall see how well he'll play 35
Count Goldfinch, or Sir Joseph Jay!'
Alas, poor Bird! and ill-bestarr'd--
Or rather let us say, poor Bard!
And henceforth quit the allegoric,
With metaphor and simile, 40
For simple facts and style historic:--
Alas, poor Bard! no gold had he;
Behind another's team he stept,
And plough'd and sow'd, while others reapt;
The work was his, but theirs the glory, 45
_Sic vos non vobis_, his whole story.
Besides, whate'er he wrote or said
Came from his heart as well as head;
And though he never left in lurch
His king, his country, or his church, 50
'Twas but to humour his own cynical
Contempt of doctrines Jacobinical;
To his own conscience only hearty,
'Twas but by chance he serv'd the party;--
The self-same things had said and writ, 55
Had Pitt been Fox, and Fox been Pitt;
Content his own applause to win,
Would never dash thro' thick and thin,
And he can make, so say the wise,
No claim who makes no sacrifice;-- 60
And bard still less:--what claim had he,
Who swore it vex'd his soul to see
So grand a cause, so proud a realm,
With Goose and Goody at the helm;
Who long ago had fall'n asunder 65
But for their rivals' baser blunder,
The coward whine and Frenchified
Slaver and slang of the other side?--
Thus, his own whim his only bribe,
Our Bard pursued his old A. B. C. 70
Contented if he could subscribe
In fullest sense his name Ἔστησε;
('Tis Punic Greek for 'he hath stood!')
Whate'er the men, the cause was good;
And therefore with a right good will, 75
Poor fool, he fights their battles still.
Tush! squeak'd the Bats;--a mere bravado
To whitewash that base renegado;
'Tis plain unless you're blind or mad,
His conscience for the bays he barters;-- 80
And true it is--as true as sad--
These circlets of green baize he had--
But then, alas! they were his garters!
Ah! silly Bard, unfed, untended,
His lamp but glimmer'd in its socket; 85
He lived unhonour'd and unfriended
With scarce a penny in his pocket;--
Nay--tho' he hid it from the many--
With scarce a pocket for his penny!
1825.
FOOTNOTES:
[451:1] First published in 1834. It is probable that the immediate
provocation of these lines was the publication of Hazlitt's
character-sketch of Coleridge in _The Spirit of the Age_, 1825, pp.
57-75. Lines 1-7, 49, 50, 84, 89 are quoted by J. Payne Collier (_An Old
Man's Diary_, Oct. 20, 1833, Pt. IV, p. 56) from a MS. presented by
Charles Lamb to Martin Burney. A fragmentary MS. with the lines in
different order is in the British Museum.
LINENOTES:
Title] A Trifle MS. J. P. C.
[1] for] 'mongst MS. B. M.
[2] amongst] among J. P. C.
[3] amid] among J. P. C.
[5] all] the J. P. C.
[6] ill] bad J. P. C.
[7] Of ill to Church as well as Court J. P. C.
[11] had a] had but a MS. B. M.
[22] denounced] disowned MS. B. M.
[31] sharp] smoke MS. B. M.
[36] Joseph] Judas MS. B. M.
[69-74]
Yet still pursu'd thro' scoff and gibe
From A. to Z. his old A. B. C.
Content that he could still subscribe
In symbol just his name ΕΣΤΗΣΕ;
(In punic Greek that's He hath stood:)
Whate'er the men, the cause was good.
MS. B. M.
[84] Ah! silly bird and unregarded J. P. C.: Poor witless Bard, unfed,
untended MS. B. M.
[86] He liv'd unpraised, and unfriended MS. B. M.: unfriended] discarded
J. P. C.
[87] With scarce] Without J. P. C.
THE TWO FOUNTS[454:1]
STANZAS ADDRESSED TO A LADY ON HER RECOVERY WITH UNBLEMISHED LOOKS, FROM
A SEVERE ATTACK OF PAIN
'Twas my last waking thought, how it could be
That thou, sweet friend, such anguish should'st endure;
When straight from Dreamland came a Dwarf, and he
Could tell the cause, forsooth, and knew the cure.
Methought he fronted me with peering look 5
Fix'd on my heart; and read aloud in game
The loves and griefs therein, as from a book:
And uttered praise like one who wished to blame.
In every heart (quoth he) since Adam's sin
Two Founts there are, of Suffering and of Cheer! 10
That to let forth, and this to keep within!
But she, whose aspect I find imaged here,
Of Pleasure only will to all dispense,
That Fount alone unlock, by no distress
Choked or turned inward, but still issue thence 15
Unconquered cheer, persistent loveliness.
As on the driving cloud the shiny bow,
That gracious thing made up of tears and light,
Mid the wild rack and rain that slants below
Stands smiling forth, unmoved and freshly bright; 20
As though the spirits of all lovely flowers,
Inweaving each its wreath and dewy crown,
Or ere they sank to earth in vernal showers,
Had built a bridge to tempt the angels down.
Even so, Eliza! on that face of thine, 25
On that benignant face, whose look alone
(The soul's translucence thro' her crystal shrine!)
Has power to soothe all anguish but thine own,
A beauty hovers still, and ne'er takes wing,
But with a silent charm compels the stern 30
And tort'ring Genius of the bitter spring,
To shrink aback, and cower upon his urn.
Who then needs wonder, if (no outlet found
In passion, spleen, or strife) the Fount of Pain
O'erflowing beats against its lovely mound, 35
And in wild flashes shoots from heart to brain?
Sleep, and the Dwarf with that unsteady gleam
On his raised lip, that aped a critic smile,
Had passed: yet I, my sad thoughts to beguile,
Lay weaving on the tissue of my dream; 40
Till audibly at length I cried, as though
Thou hadst indeed been present to my eyes,
O sweet, sweet sufferer; if the case be so,
I pray thee, be less good, less sweet, less wise!
In every look a barbéd arrow send, 45
On those soft lips let scorn and anger live!
Do any thing, rather than thus, sweet friend!
Hoard for thyself the pain, thou wilt not give!
1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[454:1] First published in the _Annual Register_ for 1827: reprinted in
the _Bijou_ for 1828: included in 1828, 1829, 1834. 'In Gilchrist's
_Life of Blake_ (1863, i. 337) it is stated that this poem was addressed
to Mrs. Aders, the daughter of the engraver Raphael Smith.' _P. W._,
1892, p. 642.
LINENOTES:
Title]: Stanzas addressed to a Lady on her Recovery from a Severe attack
of Pain Annual Register.
[11] That--this] _That--this_ 1828, 1829.
[14] That] _That_ 1828, 1829.
[16-17] In a MS. dated 1826, the following stanza precedes stanza 5 of
the text:--
Was ne'er on earth seen beauty like to this.
A concentrated satisfying sight!
In its deep quiet, ask no further bliss--
At once the form and substance of delight.
[19-20]
Looks forth upon the troubled air below
Unmov'd, entire, inviolably bright.
MS. 1826.
[31] tort'ring] fost'ring Annual Register, Bijou.
[44] less--less--less] _less--less--less_ 1828, 1829.
[47] any] _any_ 1828, 1829.
CONSTANCY TO AN IDEAL OBJECT[455:1]
Since all that beat about in Nature's range,
Or veer or vanish; why should'st thou remain
The only constant in a world of change,
O yearning Thought! that liv'st but in the brain?
Call to the Hours, that in the distance play, 5
The faery people of the future day----
Fond Thought! not one of all that shining swarm
Will breathe on thee with life-enkindling breath,
Till when, like strangers shelt'ring from a storm,[456:1]
Hope and Despair meet in the porch of Death! 10
Yet still thou haunt'st me; and though well I see,
She is not thou, and only thou art she,
Still, still as though some dear embodied Good,
Some living Love before my eyes there stood
With answering look a ready ear to lend, 15
I mourn to thee and say--'Ah! loveliest friend!
That this the meed of all my toils might be,
To have a home, an English home, and thee!'
Vain repetition! Home and Thou are one.
The peacefull'st cot, the moon shall shine upon, 20
Lulled by the thrush and wakened by the lark,
Without thee were but a becalméd bark,
Whose Helmsman on an ocean waste and wide
Sits mute and pale his mouldering helm beside.
And art thou nothing? Such thou art, as when 25
The woodman winding westward up the glen
At wintry dawn, where o'er the sheep-track's maze
The viewless snow-mist weaves a glist'ning haze,
Sees full before him, gliding without tread,
An image[456:2] with a glory round its head; 30
The enamoured rustic worships its fair hues,
Nor knows he makes the shadow, he pursues!
? 1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[455:1] There is no evidence as to date of composition. J. D. Campbell
(1893, p. 635) believed that it 'was written at Malta'. Line 18 seems to
imply that the poem was not written in England. On the other hand a
comparison of ll. 9, 10 with a passage in the _Allegoric Vision_, which
was re-written with large additions, and first published in 1817,
suggests a much later date. The editors of 1852 include these lines
among 'Poems written in Later Life', but the date (? 1826) now assigned
is purely conjectural. First published in 1828: included in 1829 and
1834.
[456:1] With lines 9, 10 J. D. Campbell compares, 'After a pause of
silence: even thus, said he, like two strangers that have fled to the
same shelter from the same storm, not seldom do Despair and Hope meet
for the first time in the porch of Death.' _Allegoric Vision_
(1798-1817); vide Appendices of this edition.
[456:2] This phenomenon, which the Author has himself experienced, and
of which the reader may find a description in one of the earlier volumes
of the _Manchester Philosophical Transactions_, is applied figuratively
to the following passage in the _Aids to Reflection_:--
'Pindar's fine remark respecting the different effects of Music, on
different characters, holds equally true of Genius--as many as are not
delighted by it are disturbed, perplexed, irritated. The beholder either
recognises it as a projected form of his own Being, that moves before
him with a Glory round its head, or recoils from it as a
Spectre.'--_Aids to Reflection_ [1825], p. 220.
LINENOTES:
[8] thee] _thee_ 1828, 1829.
[13] embodied] _embodied_ 1828, 1829.
[14] living] _living_ 1828, 1829.
[32] makes] _makes_ 1828, 1829.
THE PANG MORE SHARP THAN ALL[457:1]
AN ALLEGORY
I
He too has flitted from his secret nest,
Hope's last and dearest child without a name!--
Has flitted from me, like the warmthless flame,
That makes false promise of a place of rest
To the tired Pilgrim's still believing mind;-- 5
Or like some Elfin Knight in kingly court,
Who having won all guerdons in his sport,
Glides out of view, and whither none can find!
II
Yes! he hath flitted from me--with what aim,
Or why, I know not! 'Twas a home of bliss, 10
And he was innocent, as the pretty shame
Of babe, that tempts and shuns the menaced kiss,
From its twy-cluster'd hiding place of snow!
Pure as the babe, I ween, and all aglow
As the dear hopes, that swell the mother's breast-- 15
Her eyes down gazing o'er her claspéd charge;--
Yet gay as that twice happy father's kiss,
That well might glance aside, yet never miss,
Where the sweet mark emboss'd so sweet a targe--
Twice wretched he who hath been doubly blest! 20
III
Like a loose blossom on a gusty night
He flitted from me--and has left behind
(As if to them his faith he ne'er did plight)
Of either sex and answerable mind
Two playmates, twin-births of his foster-dame:-- 25
The one a steady lad (Esteem he hight)
And Kindness is the gentler sister's name.
Dim likeness now, though fair she be and good,
Of that bright Boy who hath us all forsook;--
But in his full-eyed aspect when she stood, 30
And while her face reflected every look,
And in reflection kindled--she became
So like Him, that almost she seem'd the same!
IV
Ah! he is gone, and yet will not depart!--
Is with me still, yet I from him exiled! 35
For still there lives within my secret heart
The magic image of the magic Child,
Which there he made up-grow by his strong art,
As in that crystal[458:1] orb--wise Merlin's feat,--
The wondrous 'World of Glass,' wherein inisled 40
All long'd-for things their beings did repeat;--
And there he left it, like a Sylph beguiled,
To live and yearn and languish incomplete!
V
Can wit of man a heavier grief reveal?
Can sharper pang from hate or scorn arise?-- 45
Yes! one more sharp there is that deeper lies,
Which fond Esteem but mocks when he would heal.
Yet neither scorn nor hate did it devise,
But sad compassion and atoning zeal!
One pang more blighting-keen than hope betray'd! 50
And this it is my woeful hap to feel,
When, at her Brother's hest, the twin-born Maid
With face averted and unsteady eyes,
Her truant playmate's faded robe puts on;
And inly shrinking from her own disguise 55
Enacts the faery Boy that's lost and gone.
O worse than all! O pang all pangs above
Is Kindness counterfeiting absent Love!
? 1825-6.
FOOTNOTES:
[457:1] First published in 1834. With lines 36-43, and with the poem as
a whole, compare the following fragments of uncertain date, which were
first published in a note to the edition of 1893. Both the poem as
completed and these fragments of earlier drafts seem to belong to the
last decade of the poet's life. The water-mark of the scrap of paper on
which these drafts are written is 1819, but the tone and workmanship of
the verse suggest a much later date, possibly 1826.
'---- into my Heart
The magic Child as in a magic glass
Transfused, and ah! he _left_ within my Heart
A loving Image and a counterpart.'
'---- into my Heart
As 'twere some magic Glass the magic child
Transfused his Image and full counterpart;
And then he left it like a Sylph beguiled
To live and yearn and languish incomplete!
Day following day, more rugged grows my path.
There dwells a cloud before my heavy eyes;
A Blank my Heart, and Hope is dead and buried,
Yet the deep yearning will not die; but Love
Clings on and cloathes the marrowless remains,
Like the fresh moss that grows on dead men's bones,
Quaint mockery! and fills its scarlet cups
With the chill dewdamps of the Charnel House.
O ask not for my Heart! my Heart is but
The darksome vault where Hope lies dead and buried,
And Love with Asbest Lamp bewails the Corse.'
[458:1] _Faerie Queene_, b. iii. c. 2, s. 19.
DUTY SURVIVING SELF-LOVE[459:1]
THE ONLY SURE FRIEND OF DECLINING LIFE
A SOLILOQUY
Unchanged within, to see all changed without,
Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt.
Yet why at others' wanings should'st thou fret?
Then only might'st thou feel a just regret,
Hadst thou withheld thy love or hid thy light 5
In selfish forethought of neglect and slight.
O wiselier then, from feeble yearnings freed,
While, and on whom, thou may'st--shine on! nor heed
Whether the object by reflected light
Return thy radiance or absorb it quite: 10
And though thou notest from thy safe recess
Old Friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air,
Love them for what they are; nor love them less,
Because to thee they are not what they were.
1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[459:1] First published in 1828: included in 1829 and 1834. The MS. of
the first draft, dated Sept. 2, 1826, is preceded by the following
introductory note:--
'QUESTION, ANSWER, AND SOLILOQUY.
And are _you_ (said Alia to Constantius, on whose head
sickness and sorrow had antedated Winter, ere yet the time of
Vintage had passed), Are you the happier for your Philosophy?
And the smile of Constantius was as the light from a purple
cluster of the vine, gleaming through snowflakes, as he
replied, The Boons of Philosophy are of higher worth, than
what you, O Alia, mean by Happiness. But I will not seem to
evade the question--Am _I_ the happier for my Philosophy? The
calmer at least and the less unhappy, answered Constantius,
for it has enabled me to find that selfless Reason is the best
Comforter, and only sure friend of declining Life. At this
moment the sounds of a carriage followed by the usual bravura
executed on the brazen knocker announced a morning visit: and
Alia hastened to receive the party. Meantime the grey-haired
philosopher, left to his own musings, continued playing with
the thoughts that Alia and Alia's question had excited, till
he murmured them to himself in half audible words, which at
first casually, and then for the amusement of his ear, he
_punctuated_ with rhymes, without however conceiting that he
had by these means changed them into poetry.'
LINENOTES:
[4] When thy own body first the example set. MS. S. T. C.
[5-11] om. MS. S. T. C.
[8] While--on whom] _While--on whom_ 1828, 1829.
[9] object] Body MS. S. T. C.
[13] are] _are_ 1828, 1829.
[14] thee--were] _thee--were_ 1828, 1829.
HOMELESS[460:1]
'O! Christmas Day, Oh! happy day!
A foretaste from above,
To him who hath a happy home
And love returned from love!'
O! Christmas Day, O gloomy day, 5
The barb in Memory's dart,
To him who walks alone through Life,
The desolate in heart.
1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[460:1] First published in the _Literary Magnet_, January, 1827, p. 71.
First collected in 1893. A transcript, possibly in Mrs. Gillman's
handwriting, is inscribed on the fly-leaf of a copy of Bartram's
_Travels in South Carolina_ which Coleridge purchased in April 1818. J.
D. Campbell prefixed the title 'Homeless', and assigned 1810 as a
conjectural date. Attention was first called to publication in the
_Literary Magnet_ by Mr. Bertram Dobell in the _Athenaeum_.
LINENOTES:
Title] An Impromptu on Christmas Day L. M. 1827.
[4] from] for L. M. 1827.
LINES[460:2]
SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS OF BERENGARIUS
OB. ANNO DOM. 1088
No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope
Soon shall I now before my God appear,
By him to be acquitted, as I hope;
By him to be condemnéd, as I fear.--
REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE
Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed, 5
Be of good cheer, meek soul! I would have said:
I see a hope spring from that humble fear.
All are not strong alike through storms to steer
Right onward. What? though dread of threatened death
And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath 10
Inconstant to the truth within thy heart!
That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice didst start,
Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife,
Or not so vital as to claim thy life:
And myriads had reached Heaven, who never knew 15
Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true!
Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your own,
Judge him who won them when he stood alone,
And proudly talk of recreant Berengare--
O first the age, and then the man compare! 20
That age how dark! congenial minds how rare!
No host of friends with kindred zeal did burn!
No throbbing hearts awaited his return!
Prostrate alike when prince and peasant fell,
He only disenchanted from the spell, 25
Like the weak worm that gems the starless night,
Moved in the scanty circlet of his light:
And was it strange if he withdrew the ray
That did but guide the night-birds to their prey?
The ascending day-star with a bolder eye 30
Hath lit each dew-drop on our trimmer lawn!
Yet not for this, if wise, shall we decry
The spots and struggles of the timid Dawn;
Lest so we tempt th' approaching Noon to scorn
The mists and painted vapours of our Morn. 35
? 1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[460:2] First published in the _Literary Souvenir_, 1827. The
_Epitaphium Testamentarium_ (vide _post_, p. 462) is printed in a
footnote to the word 'Berengarius'. Included in 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
[13] learned] _learned_ L. S.
[19] recreant] _recreant_ L. S., 1828, 1829.
[23] his] _his_ L. S.
[32] shall] will L. S., 1828, 1829.
[34] th' approaching] the coming L. S.
EPITAPHIUM TESTAMENTARIUM[462:1]
Τὸ τοῦ ἜΣΤΗΣΕ τοῦ ἐπιθανοῦς Epitaphium testamentarium αὐτόγραφον.
Quae linquam, aut nihil, aut nihili, aut vix sunt mea. Sordes
Do Morti: reddo caetera, Christe! tibi.
1826.
Ἔρως ἀεὶ λάληθρος ἑταῖρος[462:2]
In many ways does the full heart reveal
The presence of the love it would conceal;
But in far more th' estrangéd heart lets know
The absence of the love, which yet it fain would shew.
1826.
FOOTNOTES:
[462:1] First published in _Literary Souvenir_ of 1827, as footnote to
title of the _Lines Suggested by the Last Words of Berengarius_:
included in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. 60: first collected in 1844.
[462:2] This quatrain was prefixed as a motto to 'Prose in Rhyme; and
Epigrams, Moralities, and Things without a Name', the concluding section
of 'Poems' in the edition of 1828, 1829, vol. ii, pp. 75-117. It was
prefixed to 'Miscellaneous Poems' in 1834, vol. ii, pp. 55-152, and to
'Poems written in Later Life', 1852, pp. 319-78.
LINENOTES:
Title] ΕΠΙΤΑΦΙΟΝ ΑΥΤΟΓΡΑΠΤΟΝ L. R., 1844: ἐπιθανοῦς] ἐπιδανοὺς L. S.
The emendation ἐπιθανοῦς (i. e. moribund) was suggested by the Reader of
Macmillan's edition of 1893. Other alternatives, e. g. ἐπιδευοῦς (the
lacking), to the word as misprinted in the Literary Souvenir have been
suggested, but there can be no doubt that what Coleridge intended to
imply was that he was near his end.
Greek motto: Ἔρως ἀεὶ λάλος MS. S. T. C.
[1-4]
In many ways I own do we reveal.
The Presence of the Love we would conceal,
But in how many more do we let know
The absence of the Love we found would show.
MS. S. T. C.
THE IMPROVISATORE[462:3]
OR, 'JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO, JOHN'
_Scene--A spacious drawing-room, with music-room adjoining._
_Katharine._ What are the words?
_Eliza._ Ask our friend, the Improvisatore; here he comes. Kate has a
favour to ask of you, Sir; it is that you will repeat the ballad[463:1]
that Mr. ---- sang so sweetly.
_Friend._ It is in Moore's Irish Melodies; but I do not recollect the
words distinctly. The moral of them, however, I take to be this:--
Love would remain the same if true,
When we were neither young nor new;
Yea, and in all within the will that came,
By the same proofs would show itself the same.
_Eliz._ What are the lines you repeated from Beaumont and Fletcher,
which my mother admired so much? It begins with something about two
vines so close that their tendrils intermingle.
_Fri._ You mean Charles' speech to Angelina, in _The Elder
Brother_[463:2].
We'll live together, like two neighbour vines,
Circling our souls and loves in one another!
We'll spring together, and we'll bear one fruit;
One joy shall make us smile, and one grief mourn;
One age go with us, and one hour of death
Shall close our eyes, and one grave make us happy.
_Kath._ A precious boon, that would go far to reconcile one to old
age--this love--_if_ true! But is there any such true love?
_Fri._ I hope so.
_Kath._ But do you believe it?
_Eliz._ (_eagerly_). I am sure he does.
_Fri._ From a man turned of fifty, Katharine, I imagine, expects a less
confident answer.
_Kath._ A more sincere one, perhaps.
_Fri._ Even though he should have obtained the nick-name of
Improvisatore, by perpetrating charades and extempore verses at
Christmas times?
_Eliz._ Nay, but be serious.
_Fri._ Serious! Doubtless. A grave personage of my years giving a
Love-lecture to two young ladies, cannot well be otherwise. The
difficulty, I suspect, would be for them to remain so. It will be asked
whether I am not the 'elderly gentleman' who sate 'despairing beside a
clear stream', with a willow for his wig-block.
_Eliz._ Say another word, and we will call it downright affectation.
_Kath._ No! we will be affronted, drop a courtesy, and ask pardon for
our presumption in expecting that Mr. ---- would waste his sense on two
insignificant girls.
_Fri._ Well, well, I will be serious. Hem! Now then commences the
discourse; Mr. Moore's song being the text. Love, as distinguished from
Friendship, on the one hand, and from the passion that too often usurps
its name, on the other--
_Lucius_ (_Eliza's brother, who had just joined the trio, in a whisper
to the Friend_). But is not Love the union of both?
_Fri._ (_aside to Lucius_). He never loved who thinks so.
_Eliz._ Brother, we don't want _you_. There! Mrs. H. cannot arrange the
flower vase without you. Thank you, Mrs. Hartman.
_Luc._ I'll have my revenge! I know what I will say!
_Eliz._ Off! Off! Now, dear Sir,--Love, you were saying--
_Fri._ Hush! _Preaching_, you mean, Eliza.
_Eliz._ (_impatiently_). Pshaw!
_Fri._ Well then, I was _saying_ that Love, truly such, is itself not
the most common thing in the world: and mutual love still less so. But
that enduring personal attachment, so beautifully delineated by Erin's
sweet melodist, and still more touchingly, perhaps, in the well-known
ballad, 'John Anderson, my Jo, John,' in addition to a depth and
constancy of character of no every-day occurrence, supposes a peculiar
sensibility and tenderness of nature; a constitutional communicativeness
and _utterancy_ of heart and soul; a delight in the detail of sympathy,
in the outward and visible signs of the sacrament within--to count, as
it were, the pulses of the life of love. But above all, it supposes a
soul which, even in the pride and summer-tide of life--even in the
lustihood of health and strength, had felt oftenest and prized highest
that which age cannot take away and which, in all our lovings, is _the_
Love;--
_Eliz._ There is something _here_ (_pointing to her heart_) that _seems_
to understand you, but wants the _word_ that would make it understand
itself.
_Kath._ I, too, seem to _feel_ what you mean. Interpret the feeling for
us.
_Fri._ ---- I mean that _willing_ sense of the insufficingness of the
_self_ for itself, which predisposes a generous nature to see, in the
total being of another, the supplement and completion of its own;--that
quiet perpetual _seeking_ which the presence of the beloved object
modulates, not suspends, where the heart momently finds, and, finding,
again seeks on;--lastly, when 'life's changeful orb has pass'd the
full', a confirmed faith in the nobleness of humanity, thus brought home
and pressed, as it were, to the very bosom of hourly experience; it
supposes, I say, a heartfelt reverence for worth, not the less deep
because divested of its solemnity by habit, by familiarity, by mutual
infirmities, and even by a feeling of modesty which will arise in
delicate minds, when they are conscious of possessing the same or the
correspondent excellence in their own characters. In short, there must
be a mind, which, while it feels the beautiful and the excellent in the
beloved as its own, and by right of love appropriates it, can call
Goodness its Playfellow; and dares make sport of time and infirmity,
while, in the person of a thousand-foldly endeared partner, we feel for
aged Virtue the caressing fondness that belongs to the Innocence of
childhood, and repeat the same attentions and tender courtesies which
had been dictated by the same affection to the same object when attired
in feminine loveliness or in manly beauty.
_Eliz._ What a soothing--what an elevating idea!
_Kath._ If it be not only an _idea_.
_Fri._ At all events, these qualities which I have enumerated, are
rarely found united in a single individual. How much more rare must it
be, that two such individuals should meet together in this wide world
under circumstances that admit of their union as Husband and Wife. A
person may be highly estimable on the whole, nay, amiable as neighbour,
friend, housemate--in short, in all the concentric circles of attachment
save only the last and inmost; and yet from how many causes be estranged
from the highest perfection in this! Pride, coldness, or fastidiousness
of nature, worldly cares, an anxious or ambitious disposition, a passion
for display, a sullen temper,--one or the other--too often proves 'the
dead fly in the compost of spices', and any one is enough to unfit it
for the precious balm of unction. For some mighty good sort of people,
too, there is not seldom a sort of solemn saturnine, or, if you will,
_ursine_ vanity, that keeps itself alive by sucking the paws of its own
self-importance. And as this high sense, or rather sensation of their
own value is, for the most part, grounded on negative qualities, so
they have no better means of preserving the same but by
_negatives_--that is, by _not_ doing or saying any thing, that might be
put down for fond, silly, or nonsensical;--or (to use their own phrase)
by _never forgetting themselves_, which some of their acquaintance are
uncharitable enough to think the most worthless object they could be
employed in remembering.
_Eliz._ (_in answer to a whisper from Katharine_). To a hair! He must
have sate for it himself. Save me from such folks! But they are out of
the question.
_Fri._ True! but the same effect is produced in thousands by the too
general insensibility to a very important truth; this, namely, that the
MISERY of human life is made up of large masses, each separated from the
other by certain intervals. One year, the death of a child; years after,
a failure in trade; after another longer or shorter interval, a daughter
may have married unhappily;--in all but the singularly unfortunate, the
integral parts that compose the sum total of the unhappiness of a man's
life, are easily counted, and distinctly remembered. The HAPPINESS of
life, on the contrary, is made up of minute fractions--the little,
soon-forgotten charities of a kiss, a smile, a kind look, a heartfelt
compliment in the disguise of playful raillery, and the countless other
infinitesimals of pleasurable thought and genial feeling.
_Kath._ Well, Sir; you have said quite enough to make me despair of
finding a 'John Anderson, my Jo, John', with whom to totter down the
hill of life.
_Fri._ Not so! Good men are not, I trust, so much scarcer than good
women, but that what another would find in you, you may hope to find in
another. But well, however, may that boon be rare, the possession of
which would be more than an adequate reward for the rarest virtue.
_Eliz._ Surely, he, who has described it so well, must have possessed
it?
_Fri._ If he were worthy to have possessed it, and had believingly
anticipated and not found it, how bitter the disappointment!
(_Then, after a pause of a few minutes_).
ANSWER, _ex improviso_
Yes, yes! that boon, life's richest treat
He had, or fancied that he had;
Say, 'twas but in his own conceit--
The fancy made him glad!
Crown of his cup, and garnish of his dish! 5
The boon, prefigured in his earliest wish,
The fair fulfilment of his poesy,
When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy!
But e'en the meteor offspring of the brain
Unnourished wane; 10
Faith asks her daily bread,
And Fancy must be fed!
Now so it chanced--from wet or dry,
It boots not how--I know not why--
She missed her wonted food; and quickly 15
Poor Fancy stagger'd and grew sickly.
Then came a restless state, 'twixt yea and nay,
His faith was fix'd, his heart all ebb and flow;
Or like a bark, in some half-shelter'd bay,
Above its anchor driving to and fro. 20
That boon, which but to have possess'd
In a _belief_, gave life a zest--
Uncertain both what it _had_ been,
And if by error lost, or luck;
And what it _was_;--an evergreen 25
Which some insidious blight had struck,
Or annual flower, which, past its blow,
No vernal spell shall e'er revive;
Uncertain, and afraid to know,
Doubts toss'd him to and fro: 30
Hope keeping Love, Love Hope alive,
Like babes bewildered in a snow,
That cling and huddle from the cold
In hollow tree or ruin'd fold.
Those sparkling colours, once his boast 35
Fading, one by one away,
Thin and hueless as a ghost,
Poor Fancy on her sick bed lay;
Ill at distance, worse when near,
Telling her dreams to jealous Fear! 40
Where was it then, the sociable sprite
That crown'd the Poet's cup and deck'd his dish!
Poor shadow cast from an unsteady wish,
Itself a substance by no other right
But that it intercepted Reason's light; 45
It dimm'd his eye, it darken'd on his brow,
A peevish mood, a tedious time, I trow!
Thank Heaven! 'tis not so now.
O bliss of blissful hours!
The boon of Heaven's decreeing, 50
While yet in Eden's bowers
Dwelt the first husband and his sinless mate!
The one sweet plant, which, piteous Heaven agreeing,
They bore with them thro' Eden's closing gate!
Of life's gay summer tide the sovran Rose! 55
Late autumn's Amaranth, that more fragrant blows
When Passion's flowers all fall or fade;
If this were ever his, in outward being,
Or but his own true love's projected shade,
Now that at length by certain proof he knows, 60
That whether real or a magic show,
Whate'er it _was_, it _is_ no longer so;
Though heart be lonesome, Hope laid low,
Yet, Lady! deem him not unblest:
The certainty that struck Hope dead, 65
Hath left Contentment in her stead:
And that is next to Best!
1827.
FOOTNOTES:
[462:3] First published in the _Amulet_ for 1828 (with a prose
introduction entitled 'New Thoughts on Old Subjects; or Conversational
Dialogues on Interests and Events of Common Life.' By S. T. Coleridge):
included in 1829 and 1834. The text of 1834 is identical with that of
the _Amulet_, 1828, but the italics in the prose dialogue were not
reproduced. They have been replaced in the text of the present issue.
The title may have been suggested by L. E. L.'s _Improvisatrice_
published in 1824.
[463:1] 'Believe me if all those endearing young charms.'
[463:2] See Beaumont and Fletcher, _The Elder Brother_, Act III, Scene
v. In the original the lines are printed as prose. In line 1 of the
quotation Coleridge has substituted 'neighbour' for 'wanton', and in
line 6, 'close' for 'shut'.
TO MARY PRIDHAM[468:1]
[AFTERWARDS MRS. DERWENT COLERIDGE]
Dear tho' unseen! tho' I have left behind
Life's gayer views and all that stirs the mind,
Now I revive, Hope making a new start,
Since I have heard with most believing heart,
That all my glad eyes would grow bright to see, 5
My Derwent hath found realiz'd in thee,
The boon prefigur'd in his earliest wish
Crown of his cup and garnish of his dish!
The fair fulfilment of his poesy,
When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy! 10
Dear tho' unseen! unseen, yet long portray'd!
A Father's blessing on thee, gentle Maid!
S. T. COLERIDGE.
_16th October_ 1827.
FOOTNOTES:
[468:1] First published in 1893. Lines 7-10 are borrowed from lines 5-8
of the 'Answer _ex improviso_', which forms part of the _Improvisatore_
(ll. 7, 8 are transposed). An original MS. is inscribed on the first
page of an album presented to Mrs. Derwent Coleridge on her marriage, by
her husband's friend, the Reverend John Moultrie. The editor of _P. W._,
1893, printed from another MS. dated Grove, Highgate, 15th October,
1827.
LINENOTES:
Title]: To Mary S. Pridham MS. S. T. C.
[1-3]
Dear tho' unseen! tho' hard has been my lot
And rough my path thro' life, I murmur not--
Rather rejoice--
MS. S. T. C.
[5] That all this shaping heart has yearned to see MS. S. T. C.
[8] his] the MS. S. T. C. his] the MS. S. T. C.
ALICE DU CLOS[469:1]
OR THE FORKED TONGUE
A BALLAD
'One word with two meanings is the traitor's shield and shaft:
and a slit tongue be his blazon!'--_Caucasian Proverb._
'The Sun is not yet risen,
But the dawn lies red on the dew:
Lord Julian has stolen from the hunters away,
Is seeking, Lady! for you.
Put on your dress of green, 5
Your buskins and your quiver:
Lord Julian is a hasty man,
Long waiting brook'd he never.
I dare not doubt him, that he means
To wed you on a day, 10
Your lord and master for to be,
And you his lady gay.
O Lady! throw your book aside!
I would not that my Lord should chide.'
Thus spake Sir Hugh the vassal knight 15
To Alice, child of old Du Clos,
As spotless fair, as airy light
As that moon-shiny doe,
The gold star on its brow, her sire's ancestral crest!
For ere the lark had left his nest, 20
She in the garden bower below
Sate loosely wrapt in maiden white,
Her face half drooping from the sight,
A snow-drop on a tuft of snow!
O close your eyes, and strive to see 25
The studious maid, with book on knee,--
Ah! earliest-open'd flower;
While yet with keen unblunted light
The morning star shone opposite
The lattice of her bower-- 30
Alone of all the starry host,
As if in prideful scorn
Of flight and fear he stay'd behind,
To brave th' advancing morn.
O! Alice could read passing well, 35
And she was conning then
Dan Ovid's mazy tale of loves,
And gods, and beasts, and men.
The vassal's speech, his taunting vein,
It thrill'd like venom thro' her brain; 40
Yet never from the book
She rais'd her head, nor did she deign
The knight a single look.
'Off, traitor friend! how dar'st thou fix
Thy wanton gaze on me? 45
And why, against my earnest suit,
Does Julian send by thee?
'Go, tell thy Lord, that slow is sure:
Fair speed his shafts to-day!
I follow here a stronger lure, 50
And chase a gentler prey.'
She said: and with a baleful smile
The vassal knight reel'd off--
Like a huge billow from a bark
Toil'd in the deep sea-trough, 55
That shouldering sideways in mid plunge,
Is travers'd by a flash.
And staggering onward, leaves the ear
With dull and distant crash.
And Alice sate with troubled mien 60
A moment; for the scoff was keen,
And thro' her veins did shiver!
Then rose and donn'd her dress of green,
Her buskins and her quiver.
There stands the flow'ring may-thorn tree! 65
From thro' the veiling mist you see
The black and shadowy stem;--
Smit by the sun the mist in glee
Dissolves to lightsome jewelry--
Each blossom hath its gem! 70
With tear-drop glittering to a smile,
The gay maid on the garden-stile
Mimics the hunter's shout.
'Hip! Florian, hip! To horse, to horse!
Go, bring the palfrey out. 75
'My Julian's out with all his clan.
And, bonny boy, you wis,
Lord Julian is a hasty man,
Who comes late, comes amiss.'
Now Florian was a stripling squire, 80
A gallant boy of Spain,
That toss'd his head in joy and pride,
Behind his Lady fair to ride,
But blush'd to hold her train.
The huntress is in her dress of green,-- 85
And forth they go; she with her bow,
Her buskins and her quiver!--
The squire--no younger e'er was seen--
With restless arm and laughing een,
He makes his javelin quiver. 90
And had not Ellen stay'd the race,
And stopp'd to see, a moment's space,
The whole great globe of light
Give the last parting kiss-like touch
To the eastern ridge, it lack'd not much, 95
They had o'erta'en the knight.
It chanced that up the covert lane,
Where Julian waiting stood,
A neighbour knight prick'd on to join
The huntsmen in the wood. 100
And with him must Lord Julian go,
Tho' with an anger'd mind:
Betroth'd not wedded to his bride,
In vain he sought, 'twixt shame and pride,
Excuse to stay behind. 105
He bit his lip, he wrung his glove,
He look'd around, he look'd above,
But pretext none could find or frame.
Alas! alas! and well-a-day!
It grieves me sore to think, to say, 110
That names so seldom meet with Love,
Yet Love wants courage without a name!
Straight from the forest's skirt the trees
O'er-branching, made an aisle,
Where hermit old might pace and chaunt 115
As in a minster's pile.
From underneath its leafy screen,
And from the twilight shade,
You pass at once into a green,
A green and lightsome glade. 120
And there Lord Julian sate on steed;
Behind him, in a round,
Stood knight and squire, and menial train;
Against the leash the greyhounds strain;
The horses paw'd the ground. 125
When up the alley green, Sir Hugh
Spurr'd in upon the sward,
And mute, without a word, did he
Fall in behind his lord.
Lord Julian turn'd his steed half round,-- 130
'What! doth not Alice deign
To accept your loving convoy, knight?
Or doth she fear our woodland sleight,
And join us on the plain?'
With stifled tones the knight replied, 135
And look'd askance on either side,--
'Nay, let the hunt proceed!--
The Lady's message that I bear,
I guess would scantly please your ear,
And less deserves your heed. 140
'You sent betimes. Not yet unbarr'd
I found the middle door;--
Two stirrers only met my eyes,
Fair Alice, and one more.
'I came unlook'd for; and, it seem'd, 145
In an unwelcome hour;
And found the daughter of Du Clos
Within the lattic'd bower.
'But hush! the rest may wait. If lost,
No great loss, I divine; 150
And idle words will better suit
A fair maid's lips than mine.'
'God's wrath! speak out, man,' Julian cried,
O'ermaster'd by the sudden smart;--
And feigning wrath, sharp, blunt, and rude, 155
The knight his subtle shift pursued.--
'Scowl not at me; command my skill,
To lure your hawk back, if you will,
But not a woman's heart.
'"Go! (said she) tell him,--slow is sure; 160
Fair speed his shafts to-day!
I follow here a stronger lure,
And chase a gentler prey."
'The game, pardie, was full in sight,
That then did, if I saw aright, 165
The fair dame's eyes engage;
For turning, as I took my ways,
I saw them fix'd with steadfast gaze
Full on her wanton page.'
The last word of the traitor knight 170
It had but entered Julian's ear,--
From two o'erarching oaks between,
With glist'ning helm-like cap is seen,
Borne on in giddy cheer,
A youth, that ill his steed can guide; 175
Yet with reverted face doth ride,
As answering to a voice,
That seems at once to laugh and chide--
'Not mine, dear mistress,' still he cried,
''Tis this mad filly's choice.' 180
With sudden bound, beyond the boy,
See! see! that face of hope and joy,
That regal front! those cheeks aglow!
Thou needed'st but the crescent sheen,
A quiver'd Dian to have been, 185
Thou lovely child of old Du Clos!
Dark as a dream Lord Julian stood,
Swift as a dream, from forth the wood,
Sprang on the plighted Maid!
With fatal aim, and frantic force, 190
The shaft was hurl'd!--a lifeless corse,
Fair Alice from her vaulting horse,
Lies bleeding on the glade.
? 1828.
FOOTNOTES:
[469:1] First published in 1834. The date of composition cannot be
ascertained. The MS., an early if not a first draft, is certainly of
late date. The water-marks of the paper (Bath Post) are 1822 and 1828.
There is a second draft (_MS. b_) of lines 97-112. Line 37, 'Dan Ovid's
mazy tale of loves,' may be compared with line 100 of _The Garden of
Boccaccio_, 'Peers Ovid's Holy Book of Love's sweet smart,' and it is
probable that _Alice Du Clos_ was written about the same time, 1828-9.
In line 91 'Ellen' is no doubt a slip of the pen for 'Alice'.
LINENOTES:
Title] Alice Du Clos: or &c. MS.
[19-25]
Her sires had chosen for their Crest
A star atwixt its brow,
For she, already up and drest
Sate in the garden bower below.
For she enwrapt in }
Enwrapt in robe of } Maiden white
{ face half drooping
Her { [*visage drooping*] from the sight
A snow-drop in a tuft of snow
Ere the first lark had left the nest
Sate in the garden bower below.
MS. erased.
[48] Go tell him I am well at home MS. erased.
[49] speed] fly MS. erased.
[50] stronger] sweeter MS. erased.
[51] gentler] lovelier MS. erased.
[53] reel'd] pass'd MS. erased.
[54-7]
{ [*stormy*]
Like a [*tall Wave that*] { [*huge and dark*]
Reels sideway from a toiling Bark
Toil'd in the deep sea-trough
Is traversed by }
[*Catches askance*] } the Lightning flash
_or_
Like a huge Billow, rude and dark
{ as it falls off from a Bark
That { [*tumbling mainward from*]
Toil'd in the deep Sea-trough
MS. erased.
[56] shouldering] wheeling MS. erased.
[61] A moment's pause MS. erased.
[65]
Yon May-thorn tree dimly--
_or_
O fairly flower yon may-thorn tree
MS. erased.
[69] lightsome] glittering MS.
[71] With] The MS.
[76] Lord Julian in the Greenwood stays MS. erased.
[87] With buskins and with quiver MS. erased.
[100] huntsmen] huntsman MS. b.
[104] He sought in vain twixt shame and pride MS. b.
[107] He look'd far round MS. b.
[110] sore] sair MS. b, MS. erased.
[111] Tho' names too seldom MS. b.
[122] With all his gay hunt round MS.
[126] When] And MS.
[128] And dark of Brow, without a word MS.
[135] stifled] muttering MS. erased.
[136] And Look askance MS.: Yet not unheard MS. erased.
[153-7]
{ Lord Julian cry'd
God's wrath! speak out! { What mean'st thou man?
{ Recoiling with a start
{ Cried Julian with a start.
{ well-feign'd anger
With { feign'd resentment blunt and rude
Sir Hugh his deep revenge pursued
Why scowl at me? Command my skill.
MS. erased (_first draft_).
[159] She bade me tell you MS. erased.
[167] For as she clos'd her scoffing phrase MS. erased.
[173-4]
And who from twixt those opening Trees
Pricks on with laughing cheer
MS. erased (_first draft_).
LOVE'S BURIAL-PLACE[475:1]
_Lady._ If Love be dead--
_Poet._ And I aver it!
_Lady._ Tell me, Bard! where Love lies buried?
_Poet._ Love lies buried where 'twas born:
Oh, gentle dame! think it no scorn 5
If, in my fancy, I presume
To call thy bosom poor Love's Tomb.
And on that tomb to read the line:--
'Here lies a Love that once seem'd mine,
But caught a chill, as I divine, 10
And died at length of a Decline.'
1828.
FOOTNOTES:
[475:1] First published in 1828: included in the _Amulet_, 1833, as the
first of 'Three Scraps', and in 1852. The present text is that of the
_Amulet_, 1833.
LINENOTES:
Title] The Alienated Mistress: A Madrigal (From an unfinished Melodrama)
1828, 1852.
[1-3]
_Lady._ If Love be dead (and you aver it!)
Tell me Bard! where Love lies buried.
1828, 1852.
[5] Ah faithless nymph 1828, 1852.
[7] call] name 1828, 1852.
[9] seem'd] was 1828, 1852.
[10] caught] took 1828, 1852.
LINES[476:1]
TO A COMIC AUTHOR, ON AN ABUSIVE REVIEW
What though the chilly wide-mouth'd quacking chorus
From the rank swamps of murk Review-land croak:
So was it, neighbour, in the times before us,
When Momus, throwing on his Attic cloak,
Romp'd with the Graces; and each tickled Muse 5
(That Turk, Dan Phœbus, whom bards call divine,
Was married to--at least, he kept--all nine)
Fled, but still with reverted faces ran;
Yet, somewhat the broad freedoms to excuse,
They had allured the audacious Greek to use, 10
Swore they mistook him for their own good man.
This Momus--Aristophanes on earth
Men call'd him--maugre all his wit and worth,
Was croak'd and gabbled at. How, then, should you,
Or I, friend, hope to 'scape the skulking crew? 15
No! laugh, and say aloud, in tones of glee,
'I hate the quacking tribe, and they hate me!'
? 1825.
FOOTNOTES:
[476:1] First published in _Friendship's Offering_, 1834, as No. III of
'Lightheartednesses in Rhyme': included in 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] To a Comic Author on an abusive review of his Aristophanes MS.
[1 foll.]
They fled;--
Friend yet unknown! What tho' a brainless rout
_Usurp the sacred title of the Bard_--
What tho' the chilly wide-mouth'd chorus
From Styx or Lethe's oozy Channel croak:
So was it, Peter, in the times before us
When Momus throwing on his Attic cloak
Romp'd with the Graces and each tickled Muse
The plighted coterie of Phœbus he bespoke
And laughing with reverted faces ran,
And somewhat the broad freedom to excuse
They had allow'd the audacious Greek to use
Swore they mistook him for their own good man!
If the good dulness be the home of worth
Duller than Frogs co-ax'd, or Jeffrey writ
We, too, will Aristoff (_sic_) and welcome it--
_First draft_ MS. B. M.
[7] kept] _kept_ F. O. 1834.
COLOGNE[477:1]
In Köhln[477:2], a town of monks and bones[477:3],
And pavements fang'd with murderous stones
And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches;
I counted two and seventy stenches,
All well defined, and several stinks! 5
Ye Nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks,
The river Rhine, it is well known,
Doth wash your city of Cologne;
But tell me, Nymphs, what power divine
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine[477:4]? 10
1828.
FOOTNOTES:
[477:1] First published in _Friendship's Offering_, 1834, as No. IV of
'Lightheartednesses in Rhyme'. It follows the lines 'On my joyful
Departure', &c., and is headed 'Expectoration the Second'. First
collected in 1834.
[477:2] Köhln Coln _F. O._ The German Name of Cologne. _F. O._]
[477:3] Of the eleven thousand virgin Martyrs. _F. O._
[477:4] As Necessity is the mother of Invention, and extremes beget each
other, the facts above recorded may explain how this _ancient_ town
(which, alas! as sometimes happens with venison, _has been kept too
long_), _came to be the birthplace of the most fragrant of spirituous
fluids, the_ EAU DE COLOGNE. _F. O._
ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE[477:5]
FROM THE SAME CITY
As I am a Rhymer[477:6],
And now at least a merry one,
Mr. Mum's Rudesheimer[477:7]
And the church of St. Geryon
Are the two things alone 5
That deserve to be known
In the body-and-soul-stinking town of Cologne.
1828.
FOOTNOTES:
[477:5] First published in _Friendship's Offering_, 1834, with the
heading 'An Expectoration, or Splenetic Extempore, on my joyful
departure from the City of Cologne'. First collected in 1834.
[477:6] As I am Rhymer, _F. O._, _P. W._, 1834, 1893. The 'a' is
inserted by Coleridge on a page of _F. O._, 1834; the correction was not
adopted in _P. W._, 1834.
[477:7] The _apotheosis_ of Rhenish wine.
THE GARDEN OF BOCCACCIO[478:1]
Or late, in one of those most weary hours,
When life seems emptied of all genial powers,
A dreary mood, which he who ne'er has known
May bless his happy lot, I sate alone;
And, from the numbing spell to win relief, 5
Call'd on the Past for thought of glee or grief.
In vain! bereft alike of grief and glee,
I sate and cow'r'd o'er my own vacancy!
And as I watch'd the dull continuous ache,
Which, all else slumb'ring, seem'd alone to wake; 10
O Friend[478:2]! long wont to notice yet conceal,
And soothe by silence what words cannot heal,
I but half saw that quiet hand of thine
Place on my desk this exquisite design.
Boccaccio's Garden and its faery, 15
The love, the joyaunce, and the gallantry!
An Idyll, with Boccaccio's spirit warm,
Framed in the silent poesy of form.
Like flocks adown a newly-bathed steep
Emerging from a mist: or like a stream 20
Of music soft that not dispels the sleep,
But casts in happier moulds the slumberer's dream,
Grazed by an idle eye with silent might
The picture stole upon my inward sight.
A tremulous warmth crept gradual o'er my chest, 25
As though an infant's finger touch'd my breast.
And one by one (I know not whence) were brought
All spirits of power that most had stirr'd my thought
In selfless boyhood, on a new world tost
Of wonder, and in its own fancies lost; 30
Or charm'd my youth, that, kindled from above,
Loved ere it loved, and sought a form for love;
Or lent a lustre to the earnest scan
Of manhood, musing what and whence is man!
Wild strain of Scalds, that in the sea-worn caves 35
Rehearsed their war-spell to the winds and waves;
Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids,
That call'd on Hertha in deep forest glades;
Or minstrel lay, that cheer'd the baron's feast;
Or rhyme of city pomp, of monk and priest, 40
Judge, mayor, and many a guild in long array,
To high-church pacing on the great saint's day:
And many a verse which to myself I sang,
That woke the tear, yet stole away the pang
Of hopes, which in lamenting I renew'd: 45
And last, a matron now, of sober mien,
Yet radiant still and with no earthly sheen,
Whom as a faery child my childhood woo'd
Even in my dawn of thought--Philosophy;
Though then unconscious of herself, pardie, 50
She bore no other name than Poesy;
And, like a gift from heaven, in lifeful glee,
That had but newly left a mother's knee,
Prattled and play'd with bird and flower, and stone,
As if with elfin playfellows well known, 55
And life reveal'd to innocence alone.
Thanks, gentle artist! now I can descry
Thy fair creation with a mastering eye,
And all awake! And now in fix'd gaze stand,
Now wander through the Eden of thy hand; 60
Praise the green arches, on the fountain clear
See fragment shadows of the crossing deer;
And with that serviceable nymph I stoop,
The crystal, from its restless pool, to scoop.
I see no longer! I myself am there, 65
Sit on the ground-sward, and the banquet share.
'Tis I, that sweep that lute's love-echoing strings,
And gaze upon the maid who gazing sings:
Or pause and listen to the tinkling bells
From the high tower, and think that there she dwells.
With old Boccaccio's soul I stand possest, 71
And breathe an air like life, that swells my chest.
The brightness of the world, O thou once free,
And always fair, rare land of courtesy!
O Florence! with the Tuscan fields and hills 75
And famous Arno, fed with all their rills;
Thou brightest star of star-bright Italy!
Rich, ornate, populous,--all treasures thine,
The golden corn, the olive, and the vine.
Fair cities, gallant mansions, castles old, 80
And forests, where beside his leafy hold
The sullen boar hath heard the distant horn,
And whets his tusks against the gnarled thorn;
Palladian palace with its storied halls;
Fountains, where Love lies listening to their falls; 85
Gardens, where flings the bridge its airy span,
And Nature makes her happy home with man;
Where many a gorgeous flower is duly fed
With its own rill, on its own spangled bed,
And wreathes the marble urn, or leans its head, 90
A mimic mourner, that with veil withdrawn
Weeps liquid gems, the presents of the dawn;--
Thine all delights, and every muse is thine;
And more than all, the embrace and intertwine
Of all with all in gay and twinkling dance! 95
Mid gods of Greece and warriors of romance,
See! Boccace sits, unfolding on his knees
The new-found roll of old Maeonides;[480:1]
But from his mantle's fold, and near the heart,
Peers Ovid's Holy Book of Love's sweet smart![480:2] 100
O all-enjoying and all-blending sage,
Long be it mine to con thy mazy page,
Where, half conceal'd, the eye of fancy views
Fauns, nymphs, and wingéd saints, all gracious to thy muse!
Still in thy garden let me watch their pranks, 105
And see in Dian's vest between the ranks
Of the trim vines, some maid that half believes
The vestal fires, of which her lover grieves,
With that sly satyr peeping through the leaves!
1828.
FOOTNOTES:
[478:1] First published in _The Keepsake_ for 1829, to accompany a plate
by Stothard: included in 1829 and 1834. The variant of lines 49-56,
probably a fragment of some earlier unprinted poem, is inserted in one
of Coleridge's Notebooks.
[478:2] Mrs. Gillman.
[480:1] Boccaccio claimed for himself the glory of having first
introduced the works of Homer to his countrymen.
[480:2] I know few more striking or more interesting proofs of the
overwhelming influence which the study of the Greek and Roman classics
exercised on the judgments, feelings, and imaginations of the literati
of Europe at the commencement of the restoration of literature, than the
passage in the _Filocopo_ of Boccaccio, where the sage instructor,
Racheo, as soon as the young prince and the beautiful girl Biancofiore
had learned their letters, sets them to study the Holy Book, Ovid's Art
of Love. 'Incominciò Racheo a mettere il suo [officio] in esecuzione con
intera sollecitudine. E loro, in breve tempo, insegnato a conoscer le
lettere, fece leggere il santo libro d'Ovvidio, [!! _S. T. C._] nel
quale il sommo poeta mostra, come i santi fuochi di Venere si debbano
ne' freddi cuori con sollecitudine accendere.' ['Deeply interesting--but
observe, p. 63, ll. 33-5 [_loc. cit._], The _holy Book_--Ovid's Art of
Love!! This is not the result of mere Immorality:--
Multum, Multum
Hic jacet sepultum.'
MS. note on the fly-leaf of S. T. C.'s copy of vol. i of Boccaccio's
_Opere_, 1723.]
LINENOTES:
[49-56]
And there was young Philosophy
Unconscious of herself, pardie;
And now she hight poesy,
And like a child in playful glee
Prattles and plays with flower and stone,
As youth's fairy playfellows
Revealed to Innocence alone.
MS. S. T. C.
[59] all] _all_ Keepsake, 1829.
[108] vestal] _vestal_ Keepsake, 1829.
LOVE, HOPE, AND PATIENCE IN EDUCATION[481:1]
O'er wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule,
And sun thee in the light of happy faces;
Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces,
And in thine own heart let them first keep school.
For as old Atlas on his broad neck places 5
Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it;--so
Do these upbear the little world below
Of Education,--Patience, Love, and Hope.
Methinks, I see them group'd in seemly show,
The straiten'd arms upraised, the palms aslope, 10
And robes that touching as adown they flow,
Distinctly blend, like snow emboss'd in snow.
O part them never! If Hope prostrate lie,
Love too will sink and die.
But Love is subtle, and doth proof derive 15
From her own life that Hope is yet alive;
And bending o'er, with soul-transfusing eyes,
And the soft murmurs of the mother dove,
Woos back the fleeting spirit, and half supplies;--
Thus Love repays to Hope what Hope first gave to Love.
Yet haply there will come a weary day, 21
When overtask'd at length
Both Love and Hope beneath the load give way.
Then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength,
Stands the mute sister, Patience, nothing loth, 25
And both supporting does the work of both.
1829.
FOOTNOTES:
[481:1] First published in _The Keepsake_ for 1830: included in _P. W._,
1834, iii. 381. An MS. version was forwarded to W. Sotheby in an
unpublished letter of July 12, 1829. A second MS., dated July 1, 1829,
is inscribed in an album now in the Editor's possession, which belonged
to Miss Emily Trevenen (the author of _Little Derwent's Breakfast_,
1839). With regard to the variant of ll. 24-6, vide _infra_, Coleridge
writes (Letter of July 12, 1829):--'They were struck out by the author,
not because he thought them bad lines in themselves (quamvis Delia
Cruscam fortasse nimis redolere videantur), but because they diverted
and retarded the stream of the thought, and injured the organic unity of
the composition. _Più nel uno_ is Francesco de Sallez' brief and happy
definition of the beautiful, and the shorter the poem the more
indispensable is it that the _Più_ should not overlay the _Uno_, that
the unity should be evident. But to sacrifice the _gratification_, the
sting of _pleasure_, from a fine _passage_ to the _satisfaction_, the
sense of _complacency_ arising from the contemplation of a symmetrical
_Whole_ is among the last conquests achieved by men of genial powers.'
LINENOTES:
Title] Lines in a Lady's Album in answer to her question respecting the
accomplishments most desirable in the Mistress or Governess of a
Preparatory School Letter, July 1829: The Poet's Answer, To a Lady's
Question respecting the accomplishments most desirable in an
instructress of Children Keepsake, 1830.
[2] And] Yet Letter, 1829.
[3] thy] _thy_ Keepsake.
[4] keep school] _keep school_ Keepsake.
[9-11]
Methinks I see them now, the triune group,
With straiten'd arms uprais'd, the Palms aslope
Robe touching Robe beneath, and blending as they flow.
Letter, July 1829.
[15] doth] will Keepsake, 1833.
[24-6]
Then like a Statue with a Statue's strength,
And with a Smile, the Sister Fay of those
Who at meek Evening's Close
To teach our Grief repose,
Their freshly-gathered store of Moonbeams wreath
On Marble Lips, a Chantrey has made breathe.
Letter, July 1829.
TO MISS A. T.[482:1]
Verse, pictures, music, thoughts both grave and gay,
Remembrances of dear-loved friends away,
On spotless page of virgin white displayed,
Such should thine Album be, for such art thou, sweet maid!
1829.
FOOTNOTES:
[482:1] First published in _Essays on His Own Times_, 1850, iii, 998
with the title 'To Miss A. T.' First collected in 1893, with the title
'In Miss E. Trevenen's Album'. 'Miss A. T.' may have been a misprint for
Miss E. T., but there is no MS. authority for the title prefixed in
1893.
LINES[483:1]
WRITTEN IN COMMONPLACE BOOK OF MISS BARBOUR, DAUGHTER OF THE MINISTER OF
THE U.S.A. TO ENGLAND
Child of my muse! in Barbour's gentle hand
Go cross the main: thou seek'st no foreign land:
'Tis not the clod beneath our feet we name
Our country. Each heaven-sanctioned tie the same,
Laws, manners, language, faith, ancestral blood, 5
Domestic honour, awe of womanhood:--
With kindling pride thou wilt rejoice to see
Britain with elbow-room and doubly free!
Go seek thy countrymen! and if one scar
Still linger of that fratricidal war, 10
Look to the maid who brings thee from afar;
Be thou the olive-leaf and she the dove,
And say, I greet thee with a brother's love!
S. T. COLERIDGE.
GROVE, HIGHGATE, _August_ 1829.
FOOTNOTES:
[483:1] First published in the _New York Mirror_ for Dec. 19, 1829:
reprinted in _The Athenaeum_, May 3, 1884: first collected in 1893.
LINENOTES:
Title] lines written . . . daughter of the late Minister to England.
Athenaeum 1884.
SONG, _ex improviso_[483:2]
ON HEARING A SONG IN PRAISE OF A LADY'S BEAUTY
'Tis not the lily-brow I prize,
Nor roseate cheeks, nor sunny eyes,
Enough of lilies and of roses!
A thousand-fold more dear to me
The gentle look that Love discloses,-- 5
The look that Love alone can see!
_Keepsake_, 1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[483:2] First published in _The Keepsake_ for 1830: included in _Essays
on His Own Times_, 1850, iii. 997. First collected in _P. and D. W._,
1877-80.
LINENOTES:
Title] To a Lady Essays, &c. 1850.
[5-6]
The look that gentle Love discloses,--
That look which Love alone can see.
Essays, &c. 1850.
LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP OPPOSITE[484:1]
Her attachment may differ from yours in degree,
Provided they are both of one kind;
But Friendship, how tender so ever it be,
Gives no accord to Love, however refined.
Love, that meets not with Love, its true nature revealing, 5
Grows ashamed of itself, and demurs:
If you cannot lift hers up to your state of feeling,
You must lower down your state to hers.
? 1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[484:1] First published as No. ii of 'Lightheartednesses in Rhyme' in
_Friendship's Offering_ for 1834: included in _P. W._, 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] In Answer To A Friend's Question F. O.
[1] in degree] _in degree_ F. O.
[2] kind] _kind_ F. O.
NOT AT HOME[484:2]
That Jealousy may rule a mind
Where Love could never be
I know; but ne'er expect to find
Love without Jealousy.
She has a strange cast in her ee, 5
A swart sour-visaged maid--
But yet Love's own twin-sister she
His house-mate and his shade.
Ask for her and she'll be denied:--
What then? they only mean 10
Their mistress has lain down to sleep,
And can't just then be seen.
? 1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[484:2] First published in 1834.
PHANTOM OR FACT[484:3]
A DIALOGUE IN VERSE
AUTHOR
A lovely form there sate beside my bed,
And such a feeding calm its presence shed,
A tender love so pure from earthly leaven,
That I unnethe the fancy might control,
'Twas my own spirit newly come from heaven, 5
Wooing its gentle way into my soul!
But ah! the change--It had not stirr'd, and yet--
Alas! that change how fain would I forget!
That shrinking back, like one that had mistook!
That weary, wandering, disavowing look! 10
'Twas all another, feature, look, and frame,
And still, methought, I knew, it was the same!
FRIEND
This riddling tale, to what does it belong?
Is't history? vision? or an idle song?
Or rather say at once, within what space 15
Of time this wild disastrous change took place?
AUTHOR
Call it a moment's work (and such it seems)
This tale's a fragment from the life of dreams;
But say, that years matur'd the silent strife,
And 'tis a record from the dream of life. 20
? 1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[484:3] First published in 1834.
DESIRE[485:1]
Where true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame;
It is the reflex of our earthly frame,
That takes its meaning from the nobler part,
And but translates the language of the heart.
? 1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[485:1] First published in 1834.
LINENOTES:
[1-4]
Desire of pure Love born, itself the same;
A pulse that animates the outer frame,
And takes the impress of the nobler part,
It but repeats the Life, that of the Heart.
MS. S. T. C.
CHARITY IN THOUGHT[486:1]
To praise men as good, and to take them for such,
Is a grace which no soul can mete out to a tittle;--
Of which he who has not a little too much,
Will by Charity's gauge surely have much too little.
? 1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[486:1] First published in 1834.
HUMILITY THE MOTHER OF CHARITY[486:2]
Frail creatures are we all! To be the best,
Is but the fewest faults to have:--
Look thou then to thyself, and leave the rest
To God, thy conscience, and the grave.
? 1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[486:2] First published in 1834.
[COELI ENARRANT][486:3]
The stars that wont to start, as on a chace,
Mid twinkling insult on Heaven's darken'd face,
Like a conven'd conspiracy of spies
Wink at each other with confiding eyes!
Turn from the portent--all is blank on high, 5
No constellations alphabet the sky:
The Heavens one large Black Letter only shew,
And as a child beneath its master's blow
Shrills out at once its task and its affright--[486:4]
The groaning world now learns to read aright, 10
And with its Voice of Voices cries out, O!
? 1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[486:3] Now first published from a MS. of uncertain date. 'I wrote these
lines in imitation of Du Bartas as translated by our Sylvester.' _S. T.
C._
[486:4] Compare Leigh Hunt's story of Boyer's reading-lesson at Christ's
Hospital:--'_Pupil._--(. . . never remembering the stop at the word
"Missionary"). "_Missionary_ Can you see the wind?" (Master gives him a
slap on the cheek.) _Pupil._--(Raising his voice to a cry, and still
forgetting to stop.) "_Indian_ No."' _Autobiography of Leigh Hunt_,
1860, p. 68.
REASON[487:1]
['Finally, what is Reason? You have often asked me: and this
is my answer':--]
Whene'er the mist, that stands 'twixt God and thee,
Defecates to a pure transparency,
That intercepts no light and adds no stain--
There Reason is, and then begins her reign!
But alas! 5
----'tu stesso, ti fai grosso
Col falso immaginar, sì che non vedi
Ciò che vedresti, se l'avessi scosso.'
Dante, _Paradiso_, Canto i.
1830.
FOOTNOTES:
[487:1] First published as the conclusion of _On the Constitution of the
Church and State_, 1830, p. 227. First collected, _P. and D. W._,
1877-80, ii. 374.
SELF-KNOWLEDGE[487:2]
--E coelo descendit γνῶθι σεαυτόν.--JUVENAL, xi. 27.
Γνῶθι σεαυτόν!--and is this the prime
And heaven-sprung adage of the olden time!--
Say, canst thou make thyself?--Learn first that trade;--
Haply thou mayst know what thyself had made.
What hast thou, Man, that thou dar'st call thine own?-- 5
What is there in thee, Man, that can be known?--
Dark fluxion, all unfixable by thought,
A phantom dim of past and future wrought,
Vain sister of the worm,--life, death, soul, clod--
Ignore thyself, and strive to know thy God! 10
1832.
FOOTNOTES:
[487:2] First published in 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] The heading 'Self-knowledge' appears first in 1893.
FORBEARANCE[488:1]
Beareth all things.--1 COR. xiii. 7.
Gently I took that which ungently came,[488:2]
And without scorn forgave:--Do thou the same.
A wrong done to thee think a cat's-eye spark
Thou wouldst not see, were not thine own heart dark.
Thine own keen sense of wrong that thirsts for sin, 5
Fear that--the spark self-kindled from within,
Which blown upon will blind thee with its glare,
Or smother'd stifle thee with noisome air.
Clap on the extinguisher, pull up the blinds,
And soon the ventilated spirit finds 10
Its natural daylight. If a foe have kenn'd,
Or worse than foe, an alienated friend,
A rib of dry rot in thy ship's stout side,
Think it God's message, and in humble pride
With heart of oak replace it;--thine the gains-- 15
Give him the rotten timber for his pains!
? 1832.
FOOTNOTES:
[488:1] First published in 1834.
[488:2] Compare Spenser's _Shepherd's Calendar_ (Februarie):--
'Ne ever was to Fortune foeman,
But gently took that ungently came.'
LINENOTES:
Title] The heading 'Forbearance' appears first in 1893.
LOVE'S APPARITION AND EVANISHMENT[488:3]
AN ALLEGORIC ROMANCE
Like a lone Arab, old and blind,
Some caravan had left behind,
Who sits beside a ruin'd well,
Where the shy sand-asps bask and swell;
And now he hangs his agéd head aslant, 5
And listens for a human sound--in vain!
And now the aid, which Heaven alone can grant,
Upturns his eyeless face from Heaven to gain;--
Even thus, in vacant mood, one sultry hour,
Resting my eye upon a drooping plant, 10
With brow low-bent, within my garden-bower,
I sate upon the couch of camomile;
And--whether 'twas a transient sleep, perchance,
Flitted across the idle brain, the while
I watch'd the sickly calm with aimless scope, 15
In my own heart; or that, indeed a trance,
Turn'd my eye inward--thee, O genial Hope,
Love's elder sister! thee did I behold,
Drest as a bridesmaid, but all pale and cold,
With roseless cheek, all pale and cold and dim, 20
Lie lifeless at my feet!
And then came Love, a sylph in bridal trim,
And stood beside my seat;
She bent, and kiss'd her sister's lips,
As she was wont to do;-- 25
Alas! 'twas but a chilling breath
Woke just enough of life in death
To make Hope die anew.
L'ENVOY
In vain we supplicate the Powers above;
There is no resurrection for the Love 30
That, nursed in tenderest care, yet fades away
In the chill'd heart by gradual self-decay.
1833.
FOOTNOTES:
[488:3] Lines 1-28 were first published in _Friendship's Offering_ for
1834, signed and dated 'S. T. Coleridge, August 1833': included in _P.
W._, 1834. Lines 29-32 were first added as 'L'Envoy' in 1852. J. D.
Campbell in a note to this poem (1893, p. 644) prints an expanded
version of these lines, which were composed on April 24, 1824, 'as
Coleridge says, "without taking my pen off the paper"'. The same lines
were sent in a letter to Allsop, April 27, 1824 (_Letters, &c._, 1836,
ii. 174-5) with a single variant (line 3) 'uneclips'd' for
'unperturb'd'. In the draft of April 24, four lines were added, and of
these an alternative version was published in _P. W._, 1834, with the
heading 'Desire' (vide _ante_, p. 485). For an earlier draft in S. T.
C.'s handwriting vide Appendices of this edition.
LINENOTES:
[4] Where basking Dipsads[489:A] hiss and swell F. O. 1834.
[489:A] The Asps of the sand-desert, anciently named Dipsads.
[7] And now] Anon F. O. 1834.
[14] Flitting across the idle sense the while F. O. 1834.
[27] That woke enough F. O. 1834.
[29-32]
Idly we supplicate the Powers above:
There is no resurrection for a Love
That uneclips'd, unshadow'd, wanes away
In the chill'd heart by inward self-decay.
Poor mimic of the Past! the love is o'er
That must _resolve_ to do what did itself of yore.
Letter, April 27, 1824.
TO THE YOUNG ARTIST[490:1]
KAYSER OF KASERWERTH
Kayser! to whom, as to a second self,
Nature, or Nature's next-of-kin, the Elf,
Hight Genius, hath dispensed the happy skill
To cheer or soothe the parting friend's 'Alas!'
Turning the blank scroll to a magic glass, 5
That makes the absent present at our will;
And to the shadowing of thy pencil gives
Such seeming substance, that it almost lives.
Well hast thou given the thoughtful Poet's face!
Yet hast thou on the tablet of his mind 10
A more delightful portrait left behind--
Even thy own youthful beauty, and artless grace,
Thy natural gladness and eyes bright with glee!
Kayser! farewell!
Be wise! be happy! and forget not me.
1833.
FOOTNOTES:
[490:1] First published in 1834. The original of Kayser's portrait of S.
T. C., a pencil-sketch, is in the possession of the Editor. In 1852
Kaserwerth is printed Kayserwerth. The modern spelling is Kaiserswerth.
MY BAPTISMAL BIRTH-DAY[490:2]
God's child in Christ adopted,--Christ my all,--
What that earth boasts were not lost cheaply, rather
Than forfeit that blest name, by which I call
The Holy One, the Almighty God, my Father?--
Father! in Christ we live, and Christ in Thee-- 5
Eternal Thou, and everlasting we.
The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death:
In Christ I live! in Christ I draw the breath
Of the true life!--Let then earth, sea, and sky
Make war against me! On my heart I show 10
Their mighty master's seal. In vain they try
To end my life, that can but end its woe.--
Is that a death-bed where a Christian lies?--
Yes! but not his--'tis Death itself there dies.
1833.
FOOTNOTES:
[490:2] First published in _Friendship's Offering_ for 1834: included in
_P. W._, 1834. Emerson heard Coleridge repeat an earlier version of
these lines on Aug. 5, 1833.
LINENOTES:
Title] Lines composed on a sick-bed, under severe bodily suffering, on
my spiritual birthday, October 28th. F. O.
[1] Born unto God in Christ--in Christ, my All! F. O.
[3] I] we F. O.
[4] my] our F. O.
[7] fear] dread F. O.
[9-10]
Let Sea, and Earth and Sky
Wage war against me! On my front I show
F. O.
[11] they] _they_ F. O.
[12] that] who F. O.
[14] his . . . there] _his . . . there_ F. O.
EPITAPH[491:1]
Stop, Christian passer-by!--Stop, child of God,
And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seem'd he.
O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.;
That he who many a year with toil of breath 5
Found death in life, may here find life in death!
Mercy for praise--to be forgiven for fame[492:1]
He ask'd, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same!
_9th November_, 1833.
FOOTNOTES:
[491:1] First published in 1834. Six MS. versions are extant:--(_a_) in
a letter to Mrs. Aders of 1833 (_Letters of S. T. C._, 1895, ii. 770);
(_b_) in a letter to J. G. Lockhart; (_c_) in a letter to J. H. Green of
October 29, 1833: (_d_ _e_) in a copy of Grew's _Cosmologia Sacra_,
annotated by Coleridge in 1833; (_f_) in a copy of the _Todtentanz_,
which belonged to Thomas Poole.
[492:1] N.B. 'for' in the sense of 'instead of'. ἔστη κεῖται
ἀναστήσει--stetit: restat: resurget. ΕΣΤΗΣΕ. _Letter to J. G. Lockhart,
1833._
LINENOTES:
Title or Heading] (_a_) 'Epitaph on a Poet little known, yet better
known by the Initials of his name than by the Name Itself.' S. T. C.
Letter to Mrs. Aders: (_b_) 'Epitaph on a Writer better known by the
Initials of his Name than by the name itself. Suppose an upright
tombstone.' S. T. C. Letter to J. G. Lockhart: (_c_) 'On an author not
wholly unknown; but better known by the initials of his name than by the
name itself, which he partly Graecized, Hic jacet qui stetit, restat,
resurget--on a Tombstone.' Letter to J. H. Green: (_d_) 'Epitaph in
Hornsey Churchyard. Hic jacet S. T. C. Grew (1): (_e_) 'Etesi's (_sic_)
Epitaph,' (and below (_e_)) 'Inscription on the Tombstone of one not
unknown; yet more commonly known by the Initials of his Name than by the
Name itself.' Grew (2): (_f_) 'Esteese's αυτοεπιταφιον.' Note in Poole's
Todtentanz.
From the letter to Mrs. Aders it appears that Coleridge did not
contemplate the epitaph being inscribed on his tombstone, but that he
intended it to be printed 'in letters of a distinctly visible and
legible size' on the outline of a tomb-stone to be engraved as a
vignette to be published in a magazine, or to illustrate the last page
of his 'Miscellaneous Poems' in the second volume of his Poetical Works.
It would seem that the artist, Miss Denman, had included in her sketch
of the vignette the figure of a Muse, and to this Coleridge objects:--'A
rude old yew-tree, or a mountain ash, with a grave or two, or any other
characteristic of a village church-yard,--such a hint of a landscape was
all I meant; but if any figure rather that of an elderly man, thoughtful
with quiet tears upon his cheek.' Letters of S. T. C., 1895, ii. 770.
For the versions inscribed in Grew's _Cosmologia Sacra_, and in Poole's
copy of the _Todtentanz_, vide Appendices of this work.
[2] breast] heart MS. Letters to Mrs. Aders, J. G. Lockhart, J. H.
Green.
[3] seem'd he] was he MS. Letter to J. H. Green.
[5] toil of] toilsome MS. Letter to Mrs. Aden.
[7] to be forgiven] _to be forgiven_ MS. Letters to Mrs. Aders and J. H.
Green.
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
PAGE
A bird, who for his other sins 451
A blesséd lot hath he, who having passed 173
A green and silent spot, amid the hills 256
'A heavy wit shall hang at every lord' 973
A joke (cries Jack) without a sting 961
A little further, O my father 288
A long deep lane 992
A lovely form there sate beside my bed 484
A low dead Thunder mutter'd thro' the night 1005
A Lutheran stout, I hold for Goose-and-Gaundry 975
A maniac in the woods 993
A mount, not wearisome and bare and steep 155
A poor benighted Pedlar knock'd 967
A sumptuous and magnificent Revenge 1000
A sunny shaft did I behold 426, 919
A sworded man whose trade is blood 397
A wind that with Aurora hath abiding 1011
Ah! cease thy tears and sobs, my little Life 91
Ah! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams 424
All are not born to soar--and ah! how few 26
All look and likeness caught from earth 393
All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair 447, 1111
All thoughts, all passions, all delights 330
Almost awake? Why, what is this, and whence 211
An evil spirit's on thee, friend! of late! 964
An excellent adage commands that we should 971
An Ox, long fed with musty hay 299
And arrows steeled with wrath 994
And cauldrons the scoop'd earth, a boiling sea 989
And in Life's noisiest hour 1002
And my heart mantles in its own delight 1002
And Pity's sigh shall answer thy tale of Anguish 990
And re-implace God's Image of the Soul 994
And this place our forefathers made for man 185
And this reft house is that the which he built 211
And with my whole heart sing the stately song 994
And write Impromptus 989
Are there two things, of all which men possess 361
As Dick and I at Charing Cross were walking 960
As I am a Rhymer 477
As late each flower that sweetest blows 45
As late I journey'd o'er the extensive plain 11
As late I lay in Slumber's shadowy vale 80
As late, in wreaths, gay flowers I bound 33
As late on Skiddaw's mount I lay supine 350
As long as ere the life-blood's running 961
As oft mine eye with careless glance 104
As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood 1001
As the shy hind, the soft-eyed gentle Brute 1013
As the tir'd savage, who his drowsy frame 1023
As when a child on some long Winter's night 85
As when far off the warbled strains are heard 82
As when the new or full Moon urges 1005
At midnight by the stream I roved 253
Auspicious Reverence! Hush all meaner song 131, 1024
Away, those cloudy looks, that labouring sigh 90
Be proud as Spaniards! Leap for pride ye Fleas! 980
'Be, rather than be called, a child of God' 312
Behind the thin Grey cloud 992
Behold yon row of pines, that shorn and bow'd 1006
Beneath the blaze of a tropical sun 396
Beneath this stone does William Hazlitt lie 962
Beneath this thorn when I was young 269
Beneath yon birch with silver bark 293
Benign shooting stars, ecstatic delight 1015
Bob now resolves on marriage schemes to trample 953
Bright cloud of reverence, sufferably bright 998
Britannia's boast, her glory and her pride 970
Britons! when last ye met, with distant streak 150
Broad-breasted Pollards, with broad-branching heads 992
Broad-breasted rook-hanging cliff that glasses 988
By many a booby's vengeance bit 953
Charles, grave or merry, at no lie would stick 964
Charles! my slow heart was only sad, when first 154
Child of my muse! in Barbour's gentle hand 483
Come, come thou bleak December wind 1001
Come hither, gently rowing 311
Come; your opinion of my manuscript 967
Cupid, if storying Legends tell aright 46
Dear Charles! whilst yet thou wert a babe, I ween 158
Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West 48
Dear tho' unseen! tho' I have left behind 468
Deep in the gulph of Vice and Woe 12
Depart in joy from this world's noise and strife 177
Didst thou think less of thy dear self 965
Dim Hour! that sleep'st on pillowing clouds afar 96
Discontent mild as an infant 991
Do call, dear Jess, whene'er my way you come 962
Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove 386
Dormi, Jesu! Mater ridet 417
Due to the Staggerers, that made drunk by Power 989
Each Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf 968
Each crime that once estranges from the virtues 1011
Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and the
mother 327
Edmund! thy grave with aching eye I scan 76
Encinctured with a twine of leaves 287
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay (1803) 389
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay (1806) 401
Ere Sin could blight or Sorrow fade 68
Ere the birth of my life, if I wished it or no 419
Eu! Dei vices gerens, ipse Divus 981
Farewell, parental scenes! a sad farewell 29
Farewell, sweet Love! yet blame you not my truth 402
Fear no more, thou timid Flower 356
'Fie, Mr. Coleridge!--and can this be you? 441
Flowers are lovely, Love is flower-like 1085, 1086
Fond, peevish, wedded pair! why all this rant? 984
For ever in the world of Fame 1013
Frail creatures are we all! To be the best 486
Friend, Lover, Husband, Sister, Brother 392
Friend of the wise! and Teacher of the Good 403
Friend pure of heart and fervent! we have learnt 1008
Friends should be _weigh'd_, not _told_; who boasts to have won 963
From his brimstone bed at break of day 319
From me, Aurelia! you desired 966
From Rufa's eye sly Cupid shot his dart 952
From yonder tomb of recent date 955
Gently I took that which ungently came 488
Γνῶθι σεαυτόν!--and is this the prime 487
Go little Pipe! for ever I must leave thee 1016
God be with thee, gladsome Ocean 359
Gōd ĭs oŭr Strēngth ănd oŭr Rēfŭge 326
God no distance knows 989
God's child in Christ adopted,--Christ my all 490
God's Image, Sister of the Cherubim 994
Good Candle, thou that with thy brother, Fire 969
Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems better 96
Grant me a Patron, gracious Heaven! whene'er 995
Great goddesses are they to lazy folks 1008
Hail! festal Easter that dost bring 1
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star 376, 1074
He too has flitted from his secret nest 457
Hear, my belovéd, an old Milesian story 307
Hear, sweet Spirit, hear the spell 420, 552, 849
Heard'st thou yon universal cry 10
Hence, soul-dissolving Harmony 28
Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe 157
Hence! thou fiend of gloomy sway 34
Her attachment may differ from yours in degree 484
Here's Jem's first copy of nonsense verses 983
Here lies a Poet; or what once was he 1089
Here lies the Devil--ask no other name 964
Here sleeps at length, poor Col., and without screaming 970
High o'er the rocks at night I rov'd 1050, 1051
High o'er the silver rocks I rov'd 1049
Hippona lets no silly flush 955
His native accents to her stranger's ear 1011
His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead 1005
Hoarse Maevius reads his hobbling verse 955
How long will ye round me be swelling 39
How seldom, friend! a good great man inherits 381
'How sweet, when crimson colours dart 353
How warm this woodland wild Recess 409
Hush! ye clamorous Cares! be mute 92
I ask'd my fair one happy day 318
I fancy whenever I spy Nosy 953
I from the influence of thy Looks receive 999
I have experienced the worst the world can wreak on me 1004
I have heard of reasons manifold 418
I heard a voice from Etna's side 347
I heard a voice pealing loud triumph to-day 1014
I hold of all our viperous race 959
I know it is dark; and though I have lain 382
I know 'tis but a dream, yet feel more anguish 998
I love, and he loves me again 1118
I mix in life, and labour to seem free 292
I never saw the man whom you describe 182
I note the moods and feelings men betray 448
I sigh, fair injur'd stranger! for thy fate 152
I stand alone, nor tho' my heart should break 1010
I stood on Brocken's sovran height, and saw 315
I too a sister had! too cruel Death 21
I touch this scar upon my skull behind 984
I wish on earth to sing 1017
I yet remain To mourn 1124
If dead, we cease to be; if total gloom 425
If fair by Nature 1012
If I had but two little wings 313
If Love be dead 475
If Pegasus will let _thee_ only ride him 21
If the guilt of all lying consists in deceit 954
If thou wert here, these tears were tears of light 386
If while my passion I impart 58
Imagination, honourable aims 396
Imagination, Mistress of my Love 49
In a cave in the mountains of Cashmeer 993
In darkness I remain'd--the neighbour's clock 990
In Köhln, a town of monks and bones 477
In many ways does the full heart reveal 462
In Spain, that land of Monks and Apes 974
In the corner _one_ 1012
In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column 308
In this world we dwell among the tombs 991
In vain I praise thee, Zoilus 966
In vain I supplicate the Powers above 1087
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 297
It is an ancient Mariner 187
It is an ancyent Marinere 1030
It may indeed be phantasy, when I 429
It was some Spirit, Sheridan! that breath'd 87
Its balmy lips the infant blest 417
Jack drinks fine wines, wears modish clothing 958
Jack finding gold left a rope on the ground 971
Jack Snipe 982
Jem writes his verses with more speed 956
Julia was blest with beauty, wit, and grace 6
Kayser! to whom, as to a second self 490
Know thou who walk'st by, Man! that wrapp'd up in lead, man 961
Know'st thou the land where the pale citrons grow 311
Lady, to Death we're doom'd, our crime the same 392
Last Monday all the Papers said 956
Leanness, disquietude, and secret Pangs 990
Lest after this life it should prove my sad story 1090
Let clumps of earth, however glorified 1008
Let Eagle bid the Tortoise sunward soar 1001
Let those whose low delights to Earth are given 427
Light cargoes waft of modulated Sound 988
Like a lone Arab, old and blind 488
Like a mighty Giantess 991
Little Miss Fanny 987
Lo! through the dusky silence of the groves 33
Lov'd the same Love, and hated the same hate 994
Lovely gems of radiance meek 17
Low was our pretty Cot! our tallest Rose 106
Lunatic Witch-fires! Ghosts of Light and Motion! 979
Maid of my Love, sweet Genevieve 19
Maid of unboastful charms! whom white-robed Truth 66
Maiden, that with sullen brow 171
Mark this holy chapel well 309
Matilda! I have heard a sweet tune played 374
Mild Splendour of the various-vested Night 5
Money, I've heard a wise man say 972
Most candid critic, what if I 962
Mourn, Israel! Sons of Israel, mourn 433
Much on my early youth I love to dwell 64
My dearest Dawtie 984
My eyes make pictures, when they are shut 385
My father confessor is strict and holy 969
My heart has thanked thee, Bowles! for those soft strains 84, 85
My heart seraglios a whole host of Joys 990
My Lesbia, let us love and live 60
My Lord! though your Lordship repel deviation 341
My Maker! of thy power the trace 423
My Merry men all, that drink with glee 979
My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined 100, 1021
Myrtle-leaf that, ill besped 172
Names do not always meet with Love 997
Nature wrote Rascal on his face 991
Nay, dearest Anna! why so grave? 418
Near the lone pile with ivy overspread 69
Never, believe me 310
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day 264
No cold shall thee benumb 1015
No doleful faces here, no sighing 954
No more my visionary soul shall dwell 68
No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope 460
No mortal spirit yet had clomb so high 1004
No private grudge they need, no personal spite 972
Nor cold, nor stern, my soul! yet I detest 824
Nor travels my meandering eye 97
Not always should the Tear's ambrosial dew 83
Not hers To win the sense by words of rhetoric 1007
Not, Stanhope! with the Patriot's doubtful name 89
Nothing speaks our mind so well 975
Now! It is gone--our brief hours travel post 974
Now prompts the Muse poetic lays 13
O ----! O ----! of you we complain 977
O beauty in a beauteous body dight 999
O! Christmas Day, Oh! happy day! 460
O fair is Love's first hope to gentle mind 443
O form'd t'illume a sunless world forlorn 86
O Friend! O Teacher! God's great Gift to me 1081
O! I do love thee, meek _Simplicity_ 210
O! it is pleasant, with a heart at ease 435
O leave the Lily on its stem 1053
O man! thou half-dead Angel! 994
O meek attendant of Sol's setting blaze 16
O mercy, O me, miserable man 1005
O Muse who sangest late another's pain 18
O Peace, that on a lilied bank dost love 94
O! Superstition is the giant shadow 1007
O th' Oppressive, irksome weight 1000
O thou wild Fancy, check thy wing! No more 51
O thron'd in Heav'n! Sole King of kings 438
O what a loud and fearful shriek was there 82
O what a wonder seems the fear of death 125
O would the Baptist come again 959
O'er the raised earth the gales of evening sigh 996
O'er wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule 481
O'erhung with yew, midway the Muses mount 1003
Of him that in this gorgeous tomb doth lie 961
Of late, in one of those most weary hours 478
Of one scrap of science I've evidence ocular 985
Of smart pretty Fellows in Bristol are numbers, some 952
Oft o'er my brain does that strange fancy roll 153
Oft, oft methinks, the while with thee 388
Oh! might my ill-past hours return again 7
Oh! the procrastinating idle rogue 817
Old age, 'the shape and messenger of Death' 989
Old Harpy jeers at castles in the air 965
On nothing, Fanny, shall I write? 973
On stern Blencartha's perilous height 347
On the broad mountain-top 992
On the sky with liquid openings of Blue 1109
On the tenth day of September 1084
On the wide level of a mountain's head 419
On wide or narrow scale shall Man 30
Or Wren or Linnet 1002
Once again, sweet Willow, wave thee 1018
Once could the Morn's first beams, the healthful breeze 17
Once more! sweet Stream! with slow foot wandering near 58
One kiss, dear Maid! I said and sigh'd 63
Oppress'd, confused, with grief and pain 436
Our English poets, bad and good, agree 968
Outmalic'd Calumny's imposthum'd Tongue 989
Over the broad, the shallow, rapid stream 998
Pains ventral, subventral 985
Pale Roamer through the night! thou poor Forlorn 71
Parry seeks the Polar ridge 972
Pass under Jack's window at twelve at night 963
Pensive at eve on the _hard_ world I mus'd 209
Perish warmth 989
Phidias changed marble into feet and legs 984
Pity! mourn in plaintive tone 61
Plucking flowers from the Galaxy 978
Pluto commanded death to take away 957
Poor little Foal of an oppressed race 74
Promptress of unnumber'd sighs 55
Quae linquam, aut nihil, aut nihili, aut vix sunt mea. Sordes 462
Quoth Dick to me, as once at College 414
Repeating Such verse as Bowles 977
Resembles life what once was deem'd of light 394
Richer than Miser o'er his countless hoards 57
Rush on my ear, a cataract of sound 990
Sad lot, to have no Hope! Though lowly kneeling 416
Said William to Edmund I can't guess the reason 951
Say what you will, Ingenious Youth 954
Scarce any scandal, but has a handle 965
Schiller! that hour I would have wish'd to die 72
Sea-ward, white gleaming thro' the busy scud 997
Semper Elisa! mihi tu suaveolentia donas 1010
Seraphs! around th' Eternal's seat who throng 5
She gave with joy her virgin breast 306
'She's secret as the grave, allow!' 971
Since all that beat about in Nature's range 455
Sing, impassionate Soul! of Mohammed the complicate story 1016
Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel 93
Sisters! sisters! who sent you here? 237
Sleep, sweet babe! my cares beguiling 417
Sly Beelzebub took all occasions 957
Smooth, shining, and deceitful as thin Ice 990
So great the charms of Mrs. Mundy 976
So Mr. Baker heart did pluck 973
Sole maid, associate sole, to me beyond 1004
Sole Positive of Night 431
Some are home-sick--some two or three 443
Some, Thelwall! to the Patriot's meed aspire 1090
Some whim or fancy pleases every eye 970
Songs of Shepherds and rustical Roundelays 1018
Southey! thy melodies steal o'er mine ear 87
Speak out, Sir! you're safe, for so ruddy your nose 958
Spirit who sweepest the wild Harp of Time 160
Splendour's fondly-fostered child 335
Stanhope! I hail, with ardent Hymn, thy name 89
Stop, Christian passer-by!--Stop, child of God 491, 1088
Stranger! whose eyes a look of pity shew 248
Stretch'd on a moulder'd Abbey's broadest wall 73
Strong spirit-bidding sounds 399
Strongly it bears us along in swelling and limitless billows 307
Such fierce vivacity as fires the eye 991
Such love as mourning Husbands have 998
Swans sing before they die--'twere no bad thing 960
Sweet flower! that peeping from thy russet stem 148
Sweet Gift! and always doth Elisa send 1009
Sweet Mercy! how my very heart has bled 93
Sweet Muse! companion of my every hour 16
Tell me, on what holy ground 71, 501
Terrible and loud 991
That darling of the Tragic Muse 67
That France has put us oft to rout 968
That Jealousy may rule a mind 484
The angel's like a flea 1009
The body, Eternal Shadow of the finite Soul 1001
The Brook runs over sea-weeds 992
The builder left one narrow rent 1003
The butterfly the ancient Grecians made 412
The cloud doth gather, the greenwood roar 653
The Devil believes that the Lord will come 353
The dubious light sad glimmers o'er the sky 36
The dust flies smothering, as on clatt'ring wheel 56
The early Year's fast-flying vapours stray 148
The fervid Sun had more than halv'd the day 24
The Fox, and Statesman subtile wiles ensure 1089
The Frost performs its secret ministry 240
The grapes upon the Vicar's wall 276
The guilty pomp, consuming while it flares 990
The hour-bell sounds, and I must go 61
The indignant Bard composed this furious ode 27
The mild despairing of a Heart resigned 991
The Moon, how definite its orb 997
The piteous sobs that choke the Virgin's breath 155
The Pleasures sport beneath the thatch 997
The poet in his lone yet genial hour 345
The reed roof'd village still bepatch'd with snow 1002
The rose that blushes like the morn 973
The shepherds went their hasty way 338
The silence of a City, how awful at Midnight 999
The singing Kettle and the purring Cat 1003
The sole true Something--This! In Limbo's Den 429
The solemn-breathing air is ended 59
The spruce and limber yellow-hammer 1002
The stars that wont to start, as on a chace 486
The stream with languid murmur creeps 38
The subtle snow 993
The Sun (for now his orb 'gan slowly sink) 990
'The Sun is not yet risen 469
The Sun with gentle beams his rage disguises 1010
The sunshine lies on the cottage-wall 993
The swallows Interweaving there 992
The tear which mourn'd a brother's fate scarce dry 20
The tedded hay, the first fruits of the soil 345
The tongue can't speak when the mouth is cramm'd with earth 994
Then Jerome did call 1019
There are, I am told, who sharply criticise 816
There are two births, the one when Light 362
There comes from old Avaro's grave 954
There in some darksome shade 1018
Thicker than rain-drops on November thorn 1010
This be the meed, that thy song creates a thousand-fold echo 391
This day among the faithful plac'd 176
This, Hannah Scollock! may have been the case 981
This is now--this was erst 22
This is the time, when most divine to hear 108
This Sycamore, oft musical with bees 381
This way or that, ye Powers above me 974
This yearning heart (Love! witness what I say) 362
Thou bleedest, my poor Heart! and thy distress 72
Thou gentle Look, that didst my soul beguile 47
Thou who in youthful vigour rich, and light 349
Though friendships differ endless _in degree_ 1012
Tho' Miss ----'s match is a subject of mirth 952
Tho' much averse, dear Jack, to flicker 37
Tho' no bold flights to thee belong 9
Though rous'd by that dark Vizir Riot rude 81
Though veiled in spires of myrtle-wreath 450
Three truths should make thee often think and pause 966
Through weeds and thorns, and matted underwood 369
Thus far my scanty brain hath built the rhyme 78
Thus she said, and all around 1015
Thy babes ne'er greet thee with the father's name 960
Thy lap-dog, Rufa, is a dainty beast 960
Thy smiles I note, sweet early Flower 149
Thy stern and sullen eye, and thy dark brow 994
'Tis hard on Bagshot Heath to try 26
'Tis mine and it is likewise yours 997
'Tis not the lily-brow I prize 483
'Tis sweet to him who all the week 314
'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock 215
'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane 413
To be ruled like a Frenchman the Briton is both 953
To know, to esteem, to love,--and then to part 410
To praise men as good, and to take them for such 486
To tempt the dangerous deep, too venturous youth 2
To wed a fool, I really cannot see 963
Tom Hill, who laughs at Cares and Woes 974
Tom Slothful talks, as slothful Tom beseems 967
Tranquillity! thou better name 360
Trōchĕe trīps frŏm long tŏ shōrt 401
Truth I pursued, as Fancy sketch'd the way 1008
'Twas my last waking thought, how it could be 454
'Twas not a mist, nor was it quite a cloud 1000
'Twas sweet to know it only possible 992
Two things hast thou made known to half the nation 964
Two wedded hearts, if ere were such 1003
Unboastful Bard! whose verse concise yet clear 102
Unchanged within, to see all changed without 459
Under the arms of a goodly oak-tree 1048
Under this stone does Walter Harcourt lie 962
Underneath an old oak tree 169
Ungrateful he, who pluck'd thee from thy stalk 70
Unperishing youth 308
Up, up! ye dames, and lasses gay 427
Up, up! ye dames, ye lasses gay 942
Upon the mountain's edge with light touch resting 393
Utter the song, O my soul! the flight and return of Mohammed 329
Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying 439
Verse, pictures, music, thoughts both grave and gay 482
Verse, that Breeze mid blossoms straying 1085
Virtues and Woes alike too great for man 37
Vivit sed mihi non vivit--nova forte marita 56
Water and windmills, greenness, Islets green 1009
We both attended the same College 955
We pledged our hearts, my love and I 391
Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made 362, 1076
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain 178
We've conquer'd us a Peace, like lads true metalled 972
We've fought for Peace, and conquer'd it at last 972
What a spring-tide of Love to dear friends in a shoal 1010
What boots to tell how o'er his grave 1011
What is an Epigram? a dwarfish whole 963
What never is, but only is to be 999
What now, O Man! thou dost or mean'st to do 414
What pleasures shall he ever find 4
What though the chilly wide-mouth'd quacking chorus 476
Whate'er thou giv'st, it still is sweet to me 1010
When British Freedom for an happier land 79
When Hope but made Tranquillity be felt 1004
When Surface talks of other people's worth 969
When the squalls were flitting and fleering 980
When they did greet me father, sudden awe 152
When thieves come, I bark: when gallants, I am still 966
When thou to my true-love com'st 326
When thy Beauty appears 1016
When Youth his faery reign began 62
Whene'er the mist, that stands 'twixt God and thee 487
Where Cam his stealthy flowings most dissembles 988
Where deep in mud Cam rolls his slumbrous stream 35
Where graced with many a classic spoil 29
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn 432
Where true Love burns Desire is love's pure flame 485
Where'er I find the Good, the True, the Fair 1011
Wherefore art thou come? 989
While my young cheek retains its healthful hues 236
Whilst pale Anxiety, corrosive Care 69
Whom should I choose for my Judge? 1000
Whom the untaught Shepherds call 40
Why is my Love like the Sun? 1109
Why need I say, Louisa dear 252
William, my teacher, my friend 304
Wisdom, Mother of retired Thought 991
With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots 433
With many a pause and oft reverted eye 94
With many a weary step at length I gain 56
With secret hand heal the conjectur'd wound 988
With skill that never Alchemist yet told 995
Within these circling hollies woodbine-clad 409
Within these wilds was Anna wont to rove 16
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause 243
Ye drinkers of Stingo and Nappy so free 978
Ye fowls of ill presage 1017
Ye Gales, that of the Lark's repose 35
Ye harp-controlling hymns 1006
Ye souls unus'd to lofty verse 8
Yes, noble old Warrior! this heart has beat high 317
Yes, yes! that boon, life's richest treat 466
Yet art thou happier far than she 62
Yon row of bleak and visionary pines 1006
You're careful o'er your wealth 'tis true 958
You come from o'er the waters 987
You loved the daughter of Don Manrique? 421
You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within 1002
Your Poem must _eternal_ be 959
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
Transcriber has copied the Index of First Lines from the end of Vol. II
and appended it to this volume.
Ellipses in the text are represented as in the original. Ellipses in
poetry are indicated by a row of asterisks.
Changes have been made to the text to reflect the corrections mentioned
on the Errata page. The Errata page is included for completeness.
Inconsistencies in spelling, hyphenation, and accents have been left as
in the original.
The following corrections have been made to the text:
page xiii: V. Koskiusko. [MS. _Letter_, Dec. 17, 1794.]
{original is missing period and has closing parenthesis
instead of bracket}
page xvii: Youth and Age. [MS. S. T. C.:{original is missing
period after C} MSS. (1, 2) Notebook.]
page 51: 28 gleam] gleams _1796_, _1797_, _1803_{original has
11803}, _1893_.
page 207: When the ivy-tod{original has ivv-tod} is heavy
page 218: [Lines 82, 83, . . . palfrey white.]{ending bracket
is missing in original}
page 237: 20 _Both_] FAMINE _M.{period missing in original} P._
page 256: Title] Fears &c. Written, April 1798, during the
Alarms of an Invasion _MS.{original has extraneous comma} W._
page 328: Deep was the shudder, O Earth!{exclamation point
missing in original}
page 368: Dear Lady!{exclamation point missing in original}
friend devoutest
page 376: (1) _MS. A_, sent to Sir George Beaumont, Oct. 1803
(see _Coleorton Letters_){ending parenthesis is missing in
original}, 1886, i. 26;
page 442: "{quotation mark missing in original}Thus, long
accustom'd
page 445: 'I guess we shall have rain to-day!'{quotation mark
missing in original}
Footnote [133:1] Balda-Zhiok, i. e.{period missing in original}
mons altitudinis
Footnote [256:1] alarm respecting the threatened invasion.
{original has extraneous quotation mark}
Footnote [293:1] Coleridge synchronizes the _Dark Ladié_ (a
poem which he was 'preparing' with the _Christabel_){ending
parenthesis is missing in original}].
To maintain consistency, initials referring to manuscripts are spaced
throughout the text.
Dates and manuscript references in the linenotes are in italics in the
original. Italics markup has been removed to make reading easier.
When there is more than one poem on a page, the linenotes in the
original repeat the title. This title has been removed.