The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Vol 1 and 2
Chapter 5
letters to Coleridge, dated Jan. 5 and Feb. 12, 1797.) For a reprint of _Joan of Arc_, Book the Second (Preternatural Agency), see Cottle's _Early Recollections_, 1837, ii. 241-62.
The texts of 1828, 1829 (almost but not quite identical) vary slightly from that of the _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, and, again, the text of 1834 varies from that of 1828 and 1829. These variants (on a proof-sheet of the edition of 1828) are in Coleridge's own handwriting, and afford convincing evidence that he did take some part in the preparation of the text of his poems for the last edition issued in his own lifetime.
[133:1] Balda-Zhiok, i. e. mons altitudinis, the highest mountain in Lapland.
[133:2] Solfar-kapper: capitium Solfar, hic locus omnium, quotquot veterum Lapponum superstitio sacrificiisque religiosoque cultui dedicavit, celebratissimus erat, in parte sinus australis situs, semimilliaris spatio a mari distans. Ipse locus, quem curiositatis gratia aliquando me invisisse memini, duabus praealtis lapidibus, sibi invicem oppositis, quorum alter musco circumdatus erat, constabat.
[134:1] The Lapland women carry their infants at their backs in a piece of excavated wood which serves them for a cradle: opposite to the infant's mouth there is a hole for it to breathe through.
Mirandum prorsus est et vix credibile nisi cui vidisse contigit. Lappones hyeme iter facientes per vastos montes, perque horrida et invia tesqua, eo praesertim tempore quo omnia perpetuis nivibus obtecta sunt et nives ventis agitantur et in gyros aguntur, viam ad destinata loca absque errore invenire posse, lactantem autem infantem, si quem habeat, ipsa mater in dorso baiulat, in excavato ligno (Gieed'k ipsi vocant) quod pro cunis utuntur, in hoc infans pannis et pellibus convolutus colligatus iacet.--LEEMIUS DE LAPPONIBUS.
[134:2] Jaibme Aibmo.
[135:1] They call the Good Spirit, Torngarsuck. The other great but malignant spirit a nameless female; she dwells under the sea in a great house where she can detain in captivity all the animals of the ocean by her magic power. When a dearth befalls the Greenlanders, an Angekok or magician must undertake a journey thither: he passes through the kingdom of souls, over an horrible abyss into the palace of this phantom, and by his enchantments causes the captive creatures to ascend directly to the surface of the ocean. See Crantz, _History of Greenland_, vol. i. 206.
[140:1] These are very fine Lines, tho' I say it, that should not: but, hang me, if I know or ever did know the meaning of them, tho' my own composition. _MS. Note by S. T. C._
[142:1] Rev. vi. 9, 11: And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God and for the Testimony which they held. And white robes were given unto every one of them; and it was said unto them, that they should rest yet for a little Season, until their fellow-servants also, and their brethren that should be killed, as they were, should be fulfilled.
[144:1] A grievous defect here in the rhyme recalling assonance of Pe͞ace, swe͞et ēve, che͞ek. Better thus:--
Sweet are thy Songs, O Peace! lenient of care. _S. T. C._, _1828_.
[144:2] 388-93 Southeyan. To be omitted. _S. T. C._, _1828_.
[144:3] A vile line [_foul_ is underlined]. _S. T. C._, _1828_.
[146:1] The Apollo Belvedere.
[146:2] The Slaves in the West-India Islands consider Death as a passport to their native country. The Sentiment is thus expressed in the Introduction to a Greek Prize Ode on the Slave-Trade, of which the Ideas are better than the Language or Metre, in which they are conveyed:--
Ὠ σκότου πύλας, Θάνατε, προλείπων Ἐς γένος σπεύδοις ὑποζευχθὲν Ἄτᾳ[146:A]; Οὐ ξενισθήσῃ γενύων σπαραγμοῖς Οὐδ' ὀλολυγμῷ,
Ἀλλὰ καὶ κύκλοισι χοροιτύποισι Κἀσμάτων χαρᾷ; φοβερὸς μὲν ἐσσί, Ἀλλ' ὁμῶς Ἐλευθερίᾳ συνοικεῖς, Στυγνὲ Τύραννε!
Δασκίοις ἐπὶ πτερύγεσσι σῇσι Ἆ! θαλάσσιον καθορῶντες οἶδμα Αἰθεροπλάγκτοις ὑπὸ πόσσ' ἀνεῖσι Πατρίδ' ἐπ' αἶαν,
Ἔνθα μὰν Ἐρασταὶ Ἐρωμένῃσιν Ἀμφὶ πηγῇσιν κιτρίνων ὑπ' ἀλσῶν, Ὅσσ' ὑπὸ βροτοῖς ἔπαθον βροτοί, τὰ Δεινὰ λέγοντι.
LITERAL TRANSLATION.
Leaving the gates of Darkness, O Death! hasten thou to a Race yoked to Misery! Thou wilt not be received with lacerations of Cheeks, nor with funereal ululation, but with circling Dances and the joy of Songs. Thou art terrible indeed, yet thou dwellest with LIBERTY, stern GENIUS! Borne on thy dark pinions over the swelling of Ocean they return to their native country. There by the side of fountains beneath Citron groves, the Lovers tell to their Beloved, what horrors, being Men, they had endured from Men.
[146:A] ο before ζ ought to have been made long; δοῑς ὑπōζ is an Amphimacer not (as the metre here requires) a Dactyl. _S. T. C._
[147:1] Tho' these Lines may bear a sane sense, yet they are easily, and more naturally interpreted with a very false and dangerous one. But I was at that time one of the _Mongrels_, the Josephidites [Josephides = the Son of Joseph], a proper name of distinction from those who believe _in_, as well as believe Christ the only begotten Son of the Living God before all Time. _MS. Note by S. T. C._
LINENOTES:
[1] No more of Usurpation's doom'd defeat 4{o}.
[5-6]
Beneath whose shadowy banners wide unfurl'd Justice leads forth her tyrant-quelling hosts.
4{o}, Sibylline Leaves.
[5] THE WILL, THE WORD, THE BREATH, THE LIVING GOD 1828, 1829.
[6] _Added in_ 1834.
[9-12]
The Harp which hanging high between the shields Of Brutus and Leonidas oft gives A fitful music to the breezy touch Of patriot spirits that demand their fame.
4{o}.
[12] Man's] Earth's Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829.
[15]
But chiefly this with holiest habitude Of constant Faith, him First, him Last to view
4{o}.
[23-6]
Things from their shadows. Know thyself my Soul! Confirm'd thy strength, thy pinions fledged for flight Bursting this shell and leaving next thy nest Soon upward soaring shalt thou fix intense Thine eaglet eye on Heaven's Eternal Sun!
4{o}.
The substance from its shadow--Earth's broad shade Revealing by Eclipse, the Eternal Sun.
Sibylline Leaves.
[The text of lines 23-6 is given in the Errata p. [lxii].]
[37] om. 4{o}.
[40] seems] is 4{o}.
[44] Form one all-conscious Spirit, who directs 4{o}.
[46] om. 4{o}.
[47] involvéd] component 4{o}.
[54] lightnings] lightning 4{o}.
[70] Niemi] Niemi's 4{o}.
[90] deem] deemed 1829.
[96-7]
Speeds from the mother of Death his destin'd way To snatch the murderer from his secret cell.
4{o}.
[Between lines 99-100]
(Where live the innocent as far from cares As from the storms and overwhelming waves Dark tumbling on the surface of the deep).
4{o}, Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829.
These lines form part of an addition (lines 111-21) which dates from 1834.
[103] Where] There 4{o}, Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829.
[105] om. 4{o}.
[107] 'scaping] escaping 4{o}, Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829.
[108] fateful word] fatal sound 4{o}.
[112-21] thence thro' . . . Untenanted are not included in 4{o}, Sibylline Leaves, 1828, or 1829. For lines 113-15 vide _ante_, variant of line 99 of the text.
[112] Ocean] Ocean's 1828, 1829.
[130 foll.]
To rear some realm with patient discipline, Aye bidding PAIN, dark ERROR'S uncouth child, Blameless Parenticide! his snakey scourge 125 Lift fierce against his Mother! Thus they make Of transient Evil ever-during Good Themselves probationary, and denied Confess'd to view by preternatural deed To o'erwhelm the will, save on some fated day 130 Headstrong, or with petition'd might from God. And such perhaps the guardian Power whose ken Still dwelt on France. He from the invisible World Burst on the MAIDEN'S eye, impregning Air With Voices and strange Shapes, illusions apt 135 Shadowy of Truth. [And first a landscape rose More wild and waste and desolate, than where The white bear drifting on a field of ice Howls to her sunder'd cubs with piteous rage And savage agony.] Mid the drear scene 140 A craggy mass uprear'd its misty brow, Untouch'd by breath of Spring, unwont to know Red Summer's influence, or the chearful face Of Autumn; yet its fragments many and huge Astounded ocean with the dreadful dance 145 Of whirlpools numberless, absorbing oft The blameless fisher at his perilous toil.
4{o}.
_Note_--Lines 148-223 of the Second Book of _Joan of Arc_ are by Southey. Coleridge's unpublished poem of 1796 (_The Visions of the Maid of Orleans_) begins at line 127 of the text, ending at line 277. The remaining portion of the _Destiny of Nations_ is taken from lines contributed to the Second Book. Lines 136-40 of variant 130 foll. form the concluding fragment of the _Destiny of Nations_. Lines 141-3 of the variant are by Southey. (See his Preface to _Joan of Arc_, 1796, p. vi.) The remaining lines of the variant were never reprinted.
[132] human] mortal Sibylline Leaves (correction made in Errata, p. [xii]).
[171] an] a 1834.
[201] now] new Sibylline Leaves, 1828.
[289] An] A 1834.
[300] dew-damp] dew-damps 4{o}.
[314] Tyrants] Monarchs 4{o}, Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829.
Between lines 314 and 315 of the text, the text of the original version (after line 259 of _Joan of Arc_, Book II) continues:--
'These are the fiends that o'er thy native land 260 Spread Guilt and Horror. Maid belov'd of Heaven! Dar'st thou inspir'd by the holy flame of Love Encounter such fell shapes, nor fear to meet Their wrath, their wiles? O Maiden dar'st thou die?' 'Father of Heaven: I will not fear.' she said, 265 'My arm is weak, but mighty is thy sword.'
She spake and as she spake the trump was heard That echoed ominous o'er the streets of Rome, When the first Caesar totter'd o'er the grave By Freedom delv'd: the Trump, whose chilling blast 270 On Marathon and on Plataea's plain Scatter'd the Persian.--From his obscure haunt, &c.
[Lines 267-72, She spake . . . the Persian, are claimed by Southey.]
[316] Shriek'd Fear the ghastliest of Ambition's throng 4{o}.
[317] Feverous] Fev'rish 4{o}, Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829.
Between lines 320 and 321 of the text, the text of _Joan of Arc_, Book II, continues:--
'Lo she goes! To Orleans lo! she goes--the mission'd Maid! The Victor Hosts wither beneath her arm! And what are Crecy, Poictiers, Azincour 280 But noisy echoes in the ear of Pride?' Ambition heard and startled on his throne; But strait a smile of savage joy illum'd His grisly features, like the sheety Burst Of Lightning o'er the awaken'd midnight clouds 285 Wide flash'd. [For lo! a flaming pile reflects Its red light fierce and gloomy on the face Of SUPERSTITION and her goblin Son Loud-laughing CRUELTY, who to the stake A female fix'd, of bold and beauteous mien, 290 Her snow-white Limbs by iron fetters bruis'd Her breast expos'd.] JOAN saw, she saw and knew Her perfect image. Nature thro' her frame One pang shot shiv'ring; but, that frail pang soon Dismiss'd, 'Even so, &c.
4{o}.
[The passage included in brackets was claimed by Southey.]
[330] calmest] calmy 4{o}.
[339-40]
But lo! no more was seen the ice-pil'd mount And meteor-lighted dome.--An Isle appear'd
4{o}.
[342] white] rough 4{o}.
[361] and] or 4{o}.
[366-7]
The Sea meantime his Billows darkest roll'd, And each stain'd wave dash'd on the shore a corse.
4{o}.
[369-72]
His hideous features blended with the mist, The long black locks of SLAUGHTER. PEACE beheld And o'er the plain
4{o}.
[369] Like hideous features blended with the clouds Sibylline Leaves, 1817. (_Errata_: for '_blended_', &c., read '_looming on the mist_'. S. L., p. [xii].)
[378-9]
The name of JUSTICE written on thy brow Resplendent shone
4{o}, S. L. 1817.
(The reading of the text is given as an emendation in the _Errata_, Sibylline Leaves, 1817, p. [xii].)
[386] That plays around the sick man's throbbing temples 4{o}.
[394] Chieftains'] Chieftain's 4{o}.
[395] said] replied 4{o}, S. L., 1828.
Between lines 421 and 423 of the text, the text of _Joan of Arc_, Book II, inserts:--
A Vapor rose, pierc'd by the MAIDEN'S eye. Guiding its course OPPRESSION sate within,[145:A] With terror pale and rage, yet laugh'd at times Musing on Vengeance: trembled in his hand A Sceptre fiercely-grasp'd. O'er Ocean westward The Vapor sail'd
4{o}.
[145:A] These images imageless, these _Small-Capitals_ constituting themselves Personifications, I despised even at that time; but was forced to introduce them, to preserve the connection with the machinery of the Poem, previously adopted by Southey. _S. T. C._
After 429 of the text, the text of _Joan of Arc_ inserts:--
ENVY sate guiding--ENVY, hag-abhorr'd! Like JUSTICE mask'd, and doom'd to aid the fight 410 Victorious 'gainst oppression. Hush'd awhile
4{o}.
[These lines were assigned by Coleridge to Southey.]
[434] with] by 4{o}.
[437-8]
Shriek'd AMBITION'S ghastly throng And with them those the locust Fiends that crawl'd[146:A]
4{o}.
[146:A] --if Locusts how could they _shriek_? I must have caught the contagion of _unthinkingness_. _S. T. C._ _4{o}_.
[458] heavenly] goodly 4{o}.
[463] Love] Law 4{o}.
For lines 470-74 vide _ante_ var. of lines 130 foll.
VER PERPETUUM[148:1]
FRAGMENT
From an unpublished poem.
The early Year's fast-flying vapours stray In shadowing trains across the orb of day: And we, poor Insects of a few short hours, Deem it a world of Gloom. Were it not better hope a nobler doom, 5 Proud to believe that with more active powers On rapid many-coloured wing We thro' one bright perpetual Spring Shall hover round the fruits and flowers, Screen'd by those clouds and cherish'd by those showers! 10
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[148:1] First published without title ('_From an unpublished poem_') in _The Watchman_, No. iv, March 25, 1796, and reprinted in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. 44, with an extract from the Essay in the _Watchman_ in which it was included:--'In my calmer moments I have the firmest faith that all things work together for good. But alas! it seems a long and dark process.' First collected with extract only in Appendix to 1863. First entitled 'Fragment from an Unpublished Poem' in 1893, and 'Ver Perpetuum' in 1907.
ON OBSERVING A BLOSSOM ON THE FIRST OF FEBRUARY 1796[148:2]
Sweet flower! that peeping from thy russet stem Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering month Hath borrow'd Zephyr's voice, and gazed upon thee With blue voluptuous eye) alas, poor Flower! 5 These are but flatteries of the faithless year. Perchance, escaped its unknown polar cave, Even now the keen North-East is on its way. Flower that must perish! shall I liken thee To some sweet girl of too too rapid growth 10 Nipp'd by consumption mid untimely charms? Or to Bristowa's bard,[149:1] the wondrous boy! An amaranth, which earth scarce seem'd to own, Till disappointment came, and pelting wrong Beat it to earth? or with indignant grief 15 Shall I compare thee to poor Poland's hope, Bright flower of hope killed in the opening bud? Farewell, sweet blossom! better fate be thine And mock my boding! Dim similitudes Weaving in moral strains, I've stolen one hour 20 From anxious Self, Life's cruel taskmaster! And the warm wooings of this sunny day Tremble along my frame and harmonize The attempered organ, that even saddest thoughts Mix with some sweet sensations, like harsh tunes 25 Played deftly on a soft-toned instrument.
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[148:2] First published in _The Watchman_, No. vi, April 11, 1796: included in 1797, 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[149:1] Chatterton.
LINENOTES:
Title] Lines on observing, &c., Written near Sheffield, Watchman, 1797, 1803.
[5] With 'blue voluptuous eye' 1803.
[Between 13 and 14] Blooming mid Poverty's drear wintry waste Watchman, 1797, 1803, S. L., 1817, 1828.
[16] hope] hopes, Watchman.
[21]
From black anxiety that gnaws my heart. For her who droops far off on a sick bed.
Watchman, 1797, 1803.
[24] Th' attempered brain, that ev'n the saddest thoughts Watchman, 1797, 1803.
TO A PRIMROSE[149:2]
THE FIRST SEEN IN THE SEASON
Nitens et roboris expers Turget et insolida est: et spe delectat. OVID, _Metam._ [xv. 203].
Thy smiles I note, sweet early Flower, That peeping from thy rustic bower The festive news to earth dost bring, A fragrant messenger of Spring.
But, tender blossom, why so pale? 5 Dost hear stern Winter in the gale? And didst thou tempt the ungentle sky To catch one vernal glance and die?
Such the wan lustre Sickness wears When Health's first feeble beam appears; 10 So languid are the smiles that seek To settle on the care-worn cheek,
When timorous Hope the head uprears, Still drooping and still moist with tears, If, through dispersing grief, be seen 15 Of Bliss the heavenly spark serene.
And sweeter far the early blow, Fast following after storms of Woe, Than (Comfort's riper season come) Are full-blown joys and Pleasure's gaudy bloom. 20
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[149:2] First published in _The Watchman_, No. viii, April 27, 1796: reprinted in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. 47. First collected in Appendix to 1863.
LINENOTES:
_To a Primrose._--Motto: et] at L. R., App. 1863.
[17-20] om. L. R., App. 1863
VERSES[150:1]
ADDRESSED TO J. HORNE TOOKE AND THE COMPANY WHO MET ON JUNE 28TH, 1796, TO CELEBRATE HIS POLL AT THE WESTMINSTER ELECTION
Britons! when last ye met, with distant streak So faintly promis'd the pale Dawn to break: So dim it stain'd the precincts of the Sky E'en _Expectation_ gaz'd with doubtful Eye. But now such fair Varieties of Light 5 O'ertake the heavy sailing Clouds of Night; Th' Horizon kindles with so rich a red, That tho' the _Sun still hides_ his glorious head Th' impatient Matin-bird, _assur'd of Day_, Leaves his low nest to meet its earliest ray; 10 Loud the sweet song of Gratulation sings, And high in air claps his rejoicing wings! Patriot and Sage! whose breeze-like Spirit first The lazy mists of Pedantry dispers'd (Mists in which Superstition's _pigmy_ band 15 Seem'd Giant Forms, the Genii of the Land!), Thy struggles soon shall wak'ning Britain bless, And Truth and Freedom hail thy wish'd success. Yes _Tooke!_ tho' foul Corruption's wolfish throng Outmalice Calumny's imposthum'd Tongue, 20 Thy Country's noblest and _determin'd_ Choice, Soon shalt thou thrill the Senate with thy voice; With gradual Dawn bid Error's phantoms flit, Or wither with the lightning's flash of Wit; Or with sublimer mien and tones more deep, 25 Charm sworded Justice from mysterious Sleep, 'By violated Freedom's loud Lament, Her Lamps extinguish'd and her Temple rent; By the forc'd tears her captive Martyrs shed; By each pale Orphan's feeble cry for bread; 30 By ravag'd Belgium's corse-impeded Flood, And Vendee steaming still with brothers' blood!' And if amid the strong impassion'd Tale, Thy Tongue should falter and thy Lips turn pale; If transient Darkness film thy aweful Eye, 35 And thy tir'd Bosom struggle with a sigh: Science and Freedom shall demand to hear Who practis'd on a Life so doubly dear; Infus'd the unwholesome anguish drop by drop, Pois'ning the sacred stream they could not stop! 40 Shall bid thee with recover'd strength relate How dark and deadly is a Coward's Hate: What seeds of death by wan Confinement sown, When Prison-echoes mock'd Disease's groan! Shall bid th' indignant Father flash dismay, 45 And drag the unnatural Villain into Day Who[151:1] to the sports of his flesh'd Ruffians left Two lovely Mourners of their Sire bereft! 'Twas wrong, like this, which Rome's _first Consul_ bore, So by th' insulted Female's name _he_ swore 50 Ruin (and rais'd her reeking dagger high) Not to the _Tyrants_ but the Tyranny!
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[150:1] First printed in the _Transactions_ of the Philobiblon Society. First published in _P. W._, 1893. The verses (without the title) were sent by Coleridge in a letter to the Rev. J. P. Estlin, dated July 4, [1796].
[151:1] 'Dundas left thief-takers in Horne Tooke's House for three days, with his two Daughters _alone_: for Horne Tooke keeps no servant.' _S. T. C. to Estlin._
LINENOTES:
[31, 32] These lines are borrowed from the first edition (4{o}) of the _Ode to the Departing Year_.]
ON A LATE CONNUBIAL RUPTURE IN HIGH LIFE[152:1]
[PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF WALES]
I sigh, fair injur'd stranger! for thy fate; But what shall sighs avail thee? thy poor heart, 'Mid all the 'pomp and circumstance' of state, Shivers in nakedness. Unbidden, start
Sad recollections of Hope's garish dream, 5 That shaped a seraph form, and named it Love, Its hues gay-varying, as the orient beam Varies the neck of Cytherea's dove.
To one soft accent of domestic joy Poor are the shouts that shake the high-arch'd dome; 10 Those plaudits that thy _public_ path annoy, Alas! they tell thee--Thou'rt a wretch _at home_!
O then retire, and weep! _Their very woes Solace the guiltless._ Drop the pearly flood On thy sweet infant, as the full-blown rose, 15 Surcharg'd with dew, bends o'er its neighbouring bud.
And ah! that Truth some holy spell might lend To lure thy Wanderer from the Syren's power; Then bid your souls inseparably blend Like two bright dew-drops meeting in a flower. 20
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[152:1] First published in the _Monthly Magazine_, September 1796, vol. ii, pp. 64-7, reprinted in _Felix Farley's Bristol Journal_, Saturday, Oct. 8, 1796, and in the _Poetical Register_, 1806-7 [1811, vol. vi, p. 365]. First collected in _P. and D. W._, 1877, i. 187. The lines were sent in a letter to Estlin, dated July 4, 1796.
LINENOTES:
Title] To an Unfortunate Princess MS. Letter, July 4, 1796.
[17] might] could MS. Letter, 1796.
[18] thy] the Felix Farley's, &c.
[20] meeting] bosomed MS. Letter, 1796.
SONNET[152:2]
ON RECEIVING A LETTER INFORMING ME OF THE BIRTH OF A SON
When they did greet me father, sudden awe Weigh'd down my spirit: I retired and knelt Seeking the throne of grace, but inly felt No heavenly visitation upwards draw My feeble mind, nor cheering ray impart. 5 Ah me! before the Eternal Sire I brought Th' unquiet silence of confuséd thought And shapeless feelings: my o'erwhelméd heart Trembled, and vacant tears stream'd down my face. And now once more, O Lord! to thee I bend, 10 Lover of souls! and groan for future grace, That ere my babe youth's perilous maze have trod, Thy overshadowing Spirit may descend, And he be born again, a child of God.
_Sept._ 20, 1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[152:2] First published in the 'Biographical Supplement' to the _Biographia Literaria_, 1847, ii. 379. First collected in _P. and D. W._, 1877-80. This and the two succeeding sonnets were enclosed in a letter to Poole, dated November 1, 1796. A note was affixed to the sonnet 'On Receiving', &c.: 'This sonnet puts in no claim to poetry (indeed as a composition I think so little of them that I neglected to repeat them to you) but it is a most faithful picture of my feelings on a very interesting event. When I was with you they were, indeed, excepting the first, in a rude and undrest shape.'
LINENOTES:
Title] Sonnet written on receiving letter informing me of the birth of a son, I being at Birmingham MS. Letter, Nov. 1, 1796.
[8] shapeless] hopeless B. L.
SONNET[153:1]
COMPOSED ON A JOURNEY HOMEWARD; THE AUTHOR HAVING RECEIVED INTELLIGENCE OF THE BIRTH OF A SON, SEPT. 20, 1796
Oft o'er my brain does that strange fancy roll Which makes the present (while the flash doth last) Seem a mere semblance of some unknown past, Mixed with such feelings, as perplex the soul Self-questioned in her sleep; and some have said[153:2] 5 We liv'd, ere yet this robe of flesh we wore.[154:1] O my sweet baby! when I reach my door, If heavy looks should tell me thou art dead, (As sometimes, through excess of hope, I fear) I think that I should struggle to believe 10 Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere Sentenc'd for some more venial crime to grieve; Did'st scream, then spring to meet Heaven's quick reprieve, While we wept idly o'er thy little bier!
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[153:1] First published in 1797: included in 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[153:2] Ἦν που ἡμῶν ἡ ψυχὴ πρὶν ἐν τῷδε τῷ ἀνθρωπίνῳ εἴδει γενέσθαι. Plat. _Phaedon_. Cap. xviii. 72 e.
[154:1] Almost all the followers of Fénelon believe that men are degraded Intelligences who had all once existed together in a paradisiacal or perhaps heavenly state. The first four lines express a feeling which I have often had--the present has appeared like a vivid dream or exact similitude of some past circumstances. _MS. Letter to Poole_, Nov. 1, 1796.
LINENOTES:
Title] Sonnet composed on my journey home from Birmingham MS. Letter, 1796: Sonnet ix. To a Friend, &c. 1797: Sonnet xvii. To a Friend, &c. 1803.
[1-11]
Oft of some unknown Past such Fancies roll Swift o'er my brain as make the Present seem For a brief moment like a most strange dream When not unconscious that she dreamt, the soul Questions herself in sleep! and some have said We lived ere yet this fleshly robe we wore.
MS. Letter, 1796.
[6] robe of flesh] fleshy robe 1797, 1803.
[8] art] wert MS. Letter, 1796, 1797, 1803.
SONNET[154:2]
TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT WHEN THE NURSE FIRST PRESENTED MY INFANT TO ME
Charles! my slow heart was only sad, when first I scann'd that face of feeble infancy: For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst All I had been, and all my child might be! But when I saw it on its mother's arm, 5 And hanging at her bosom (she the while Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile) Then I was thrill'd and melted, and most warm Impress'd a father's kiss: and all beguil'd Of dark remembrance and presageful fear, 10 I seem'd to see an angel-form appear-- 'Twas even thine, belovéd woman mild! So for the mother's sake the child was dear, And dearer was the mother for the child.
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[154:2] First published in 1797: included in 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The 'Friend' was, probably, Charles Lloyd.
LINENOTES:
Title] To a Friend who wished to know, &c. MS. Letter, Nov. 1, 1796: Sonnet x. To a Friend 1797: Sonnet xix. To a Friend, &c. 1803.
[4] child] babe MS. Letter, 1796, 1797, 1803.
[5] saw] watch'd MS. Letter, 1796.
[11] angel-form] Angel's form MS. Letter, 1796, 1797, 1803.
[13] Comforts on his late eve, whose youthful friend. MS. correction by S. T. C. in copy of _Nugae Canorae_ in the British Museum.
SONNET[155:1]
[TO CHARLES LLOYD]
The piteous sobs that choke the Virgin's breath For him, the fair betrothéd Youth, who lies Cold in the narrow dwelling, or the cries With which a Mother wails her darling's death, These from our nature's common impulse spring, 5 Unblam'd, unprais'd; but o'er the piléd earth Which hides the sheeted corse of grey-hair'd Worth, If droops the soaring Youth with slacken'd wing; If he recall in saddest minstrelsy Each tenderness bestow'd, each truth imprest, 10 Such grief is Reason, Virtue, Piety! And from the Almighty Father shall descend Comforts on his late evening, whose young breast Mourns with no transient love the Agéd Friend.
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[155:1] First published in _Poems on the Death of Priscilla Farmer_. By her Grandson, 1796, folio. It prefaced the same set of Lloyd's Sonnets included in the second edition of _Poems_ by S. T. Coleridge, 1797. It was included in C. Lloyd's _Nugae Canorae_, 1819. First collected in _P. and D. W._, 1877-80.
TO A YOUNG FRIEND[155:2]
ON HIS PROPOSING TO DOMESTICATE WITH THE AUTHOR
_Composed in_ 1796
A mount, not wearisome and bare and steep, But a green mountain variously up-piled, Where o'er the jutting rocks soft mosses creep, Or colour'd lichens with slow oozing weep; Where cypress and the darker yew start wild; 5 And, 'mid the summer torrent's gentle dash Dance brighten'd the red clusters of the ash; Beneath whose boughs, by those still sounds beguil'd, Calm Pensiveness might muse herself to sleep; Till haply startled by some fleecy dam, 10 That rustling on the bushy cliff above With melancholy bleat of anxious love, Made meek enquiry for her wandering lamb: Such a green mountain 'twere most sweet to climb, E'en while the bosom ach'd with loneliness-- 15 How more than sweet, if some dear friend should bless The adventurous toil, and up the path sublime Now lead, now follow: the glad landscape round, Wide and more wide, increasing without bound!
O then 'twere loveliest sympathy, to mark 20 The berries of the half-uprooted ash Dripping and bright; and list the torrent's dash,-- Beneath the cypress, or the yew more dark, Seated at ease, on some smooth mossy rock; In social silence now, and now to unlock 25 The treasur'd heart; arm linked in friendly arm, Save if the one, his muse's witching charm Muttering brow-bent, at unwatch'd distance lag; Till high o'er head his beckoning friend appears, And from the forehead of the topmost crag 30 Shouts eagerly: for haply _there_ uprears That shadowing Pine its old romantic limbs, Which latest shall detain the enamour'd sight Seen from below, when eve the valley dims, Tinged yellow with the rich departing light; 35 And haply, bason'd in some unsunn'd cleft, A beauteous spring, the rock's collected tears, Sleeps shelter'd there, scarce wrinkled by the gale! Together thus, the world's vain turmoil left, Stretch'd on the crag, and shadow'd by the pine, 40 And bending o'er the clear delicious fount, Ah! dearest youth! it were a lot divine To cheat our noons in moralising mood, While west-winds fann'd our temples toil-bedew'd: Then downwards slope, oft pausing, from the mount, 45 To some lone mansion, in some woody dale, Where smiling with blue eye, Domestic Bliss Gives _this_ the Husband's, _that_ the Brother's kiss!
Thus rudely vers'd in allegoric lore, The Hill of Knowledge I essayed to trace; 50 That verdurous hill with many a resting-place, And many a stream, whose warbling waters pour To glad, and fertilise the subject plains; That hill with secret springs, and nooks untrod, And many a fancy-blest and holy sod 55 Where Inspiration, his diviner strains Low-murmuring, lay; and starting from the rock's Stiff evergreens, (whose spreading foliage mocks Want's barren soil, and the bleak frosts of age, And Bigotry's mad fire-invoking rage!) 60 O meek retiring spirit! we will climb, Cheering and cheered, this lovely hill sublime; And from the stirring world up-lifted high (Whose noises, faintly wafted on the wind, To quiet musings shall attune the mind, 65 And oft the melancholy _theme_ supply), There, while the prospect through the gazing eye Pours all its healthful greenness on the soul, We'll smile at wealth, and learn to smile at fame, Our hopes, our knowledge, and our joys the same, 70 As neighbouring fountains image each the whole: Then when the mind hath drunk its fill of truth We'll discipline the heart to pure delight, Rekindling sober joy's domestic flame. They whom I love shall love thee, honour'd youth! 75 Now may Heaven realise this vision bright!
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[155:2] First published in 1797: included in 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] To C. Lloyd on his proposing to domesticate, &c. 1797: To a Friend, &c. 1803. 'Composed in 1796' was added in S. L.
[8] those still] stilly 1797: stillest 1803.
[11] cliff] clift S. L., 1828, 1829.
[16] How heavenly sweet 1797, 1803.
[42] youth] Lloyd 1797: Charles 1803.
[46] lone] low 1797, 1803.
[60] And mad oppression's thunder-clasping rage 1797, 1803.
[69] We'll laugh at wealth, and learn to laugh at fame 1797, 1803.
[71] In 1803 the poem ended with line 71. In the Sibylline Leaves, 1829, the last five lines were replaced.
[72] hath drunk] has drank 1797: hath drank S. L., 1828, 1829.
[75] She whom I love, shall love thee. Honour'd youth 1797, S. L., 1817, 1828, 1829. The change of punctuation dates from 1834.
ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG MAN OF FORTUNE[157:1]
[C. LLOYD]
WHO ABANDONED HIMSELF TO AN INDOLENT AND CAUSELESS MELANCHOLY
Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe, O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear! To plunder'd Want's half-shelter'd hovel go, Go, and some hunger-bitten infant hear Moan haply in a dying mother's ear: 5 Or when the cold and dismal fog-damps brood O'er the rank church-yard with sear elm-leaves strew'd, Pace round some widow's grave, whose dearer part Was slaughter'd, where o'er his uncoffin'd limbs The flocking flesh-birds scream'd! Then, while thy heart 10 Groans, and thine eye a fiercer sorrow dims, Know (and the truth shall kindle thy young mind) What Nature makes thee mourn, she bids thee heal! O abject! if, to sickly dreams resign'd, All effortless thou leave Life's commonweal 15 A prey to Tyrants, Murderers of Mankind.
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[157:1] First published in the _Cambridge Intelligencer_, December 17, 1796: included in the Quarto Edition of the _Ode on the Departing Year_, 1796, in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The lines were sent in a letter to John Thelwall, dated December 17, 1796 (_Letters of S. T. C._, 1895, i. 207, 208).
LINENOTES:
Title] Lines, &c., C. I.: To a Young Man who abandoned himself to a causeless and indolent melancholy MS. Letter, 1796.
[6-7] These lines were omitted in the MS. Letter and 4{o} 1796, but were replaced in Sibylline Leaves, 1817.
[8] Or seek some widow's MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1796.
[11] eye] eyes MS. Letter, Dec. 9, 1796, C. I.
[15-16]
earth's common weal A prey to the thron'd Murderess of Mankind.
MS. Letter, 1796.
All effortless thou leave Earth's commonweal A prey to the thron'd Murderers of Mankind.
C. I., 1796, 4{o}.
TO A FRIEND[158:1]
[CHARLES LAMB]
WHO HAD DECLARED HIS INTENTION OF WRITING NO MORE POETRY
Dear Charles! whilst yet thou wert a babe, I ween That Genius plung'd thee in that wizard fount Hight Castalie: and (sureties of thy faith) That Pity and Simplicity stood by, And promis'd for thee, that thou shouldst renounce 5 The world's low cares and lying vanities, Steadfast and rooted in the heavenly Muse, And wash'd and sanctified to Poesy. Yes--thou wert plung'd, but with forgetful hand Held, as by Thetis erst her warrior son: 10 And with those recreant unbaptizéd heels Thou'rt flying from thy bounden ministeries-- So sore it seems and burthensome a task To weave unwithering flowers! But take thou heed: For thou art vulnerable, wild-eyed boy, 15 And I have arrows[159:1] mystically dipped Such as may stop thy speed. Is thy Burns dead? And shall he die unwept, and sink to earth 'Without the meed of one melodious tear'? Thy Burns, and Nature's own beloved bard, 20 Who to the 'Illustrious[159:2] of his native Land So properly did look for patronage.' Ghost of Mæcenas! hide thy blushing face! They snatch'd him from the sickle and the plough-- To gauge ale-firkins.
Oh! for shame return! 25 On a bleak rock, midway the Aonian mount, There stands a lone and melancholy tree, Whose agéd branches to the midnight blast Make solemn music: pluck its darkest bough, Ere yet the unwholesome night-dew be exhaled, 30 And weeping wreath it round thy Poet's tomb. Then in the outskirts, where pollutions grow, Pick the rank henbane and the dusky flowers Of night-shade, or its red and tempting fruit, These with stopped nostril and glove-guarded hand 35 Knit in nice intertexture, so to twine, The illustrious brow of Scotch Nobility!
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[158:1] First published in a Bristol newspaper in aid of a subscription for the family of Robert Burns (the cutting is bound up with the copy of _Selection of Sonnets_ (_S. S._) in the Forster Library in the Victoria and Albert Museum): reprinted in the _Annual Anthology_, 1800: included in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[159:1]
[Πολλά μοι ὑπ' ἀγκῶνος ὠκέα βέλη Ἔνδον ἐντὶ φαρέτρας Φωνᾶντα συνετοῖσιν.] Pind. _Olymp._ ii. 149, κ. τ. λ.
[159:2] Verbatim from Burns's Dedication of his Poems to the Nobility and Gentry of the Caledonian Hunt.
LINENOTES:
[1] whilst] while An. Anth.
[3] of] for S. S., An. Anth.
[25] gauge] guard S. L., 1817 (For 'guard' read 'guage'. _Errata_, p. [xii]).
[33] stinking hensbane S. S., An. Anth.: hensbane S. L., 1817.
[35] Those with stopped nostrils MS. correction in printed slip of the newspaper. See P. and D. W., 1877, ii. 379.
[After 37] E S T E E S I 1796, An. Anth.
ODE TO THE DEPARTING YEAR[160:1]
Ἰοὺ ἰού, ὢ ὢ κακά. Ὑπ' αὖ με δεινὸς ὀρθομαντείας πόνος Στροβεῖ, ταράσσων φροιμίοις δυσφροιμίοις.
* * * * *
Τὸ μέλλον ἥξει. Καὶ σύ μ' τάχει παρὼν Ἄγαν ἀληθόμαντιν οἰκτείρας ἐρεῖς. Aeschyl. _Agam._ 1173-75; 1199-1200.
ARGUMENT
The Ode[160:2] commences with an address to the Divine Providence that regulates into one vast harmony all the events of time, however calamitous some of them may appear to mortals. The second Strophe calls on men to suspend their private joys and sorrows, and devote them for a while to the cause of human nature in general. The first Epode speaks of the Empress of Russia, who died of an apoplexy on the 17th of November 1796; having just concluded a subsidiary treaty with the Kings combined against France. The first and second Antistrophe describe the Image of the Departing Year, etc., as in a vision. The second Epode prophesies, in anguish of spirit, the downfall of this country.
I
Spirit who sweepest the wild Harp of Time! It is most hard, with an untroubled ear Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear! Yet, mine eye fix'd on Heaven's unchanging clime Long had I listen'd, free from mortal fear, 5 With inward stillness, and a bowéd mind; When lo! its folds far waving on the wind, I saw the train of the Departing Year! Starting from my silent sadness Then with no unholy madness, 10 Ere yet the enter'd cloud foreclos'd my sight, I rais'd the impetuous song, and solemnis'd his flight.
II[161:1]
Hither, from the recent tomb, From the prison's direr gloom, From Distemper's midnight anguish; 15 And thence, where Poverty doth waste and languish; Or where, his two bright torches blending, Love illumines Manhood's maze; Or where o'er cradled infants bending, Hope has fix'd her wishful gaze; 20 Hither, in perplexéd dance, Ye Woes! ye young-eyed Joys! advance! By Time's wild harp, and by the hand Whose indefatigable sweep Raises its fateful strings from sleep, 25 I bid you haste, a mix'd tumultuous band! From every private bower, And each domestic hearth, Haste for one solemn hour; And with a loud and yet a louder voice, 30 O'er Nature struggling in portentous birth, Weep and rejoice! Still echoes the dread Name that o'er the earth[161:2] Let slip the storm, and woke the brood of Hell: And now advance in saintly Jubilee 35 Justice and Truth! They too have heard thy spell, They too obey thy name, divinest Liberty!
III[162:1]
I mark'd Ambition in his war-array! I heard the mailéd Monarch's troublous cry-- 'Ah! wherefore does the Northern Conqueress stay![162:2] 40 Groans not her chariot on its onward way?' Fly, mailéd Monarch, fly! Stunn'd by Death's twice mortal mace, No more on Murder's lurid face The insatiate Hag shall gloat with drunken eye! 45 Manes of the unnumber'd slain! Ye that gasp'd on Warsaw's plain! Ye that erst at Ismail's tower, When human ruin choked the streams, Fell in Conquest's glutted hour, 50 Mid women's shrieks and infants' screams! Spirits of the uncoffin'd slain, Sudden blasts of triumph swelling, Oft, at night, in misty train, Rush around her narrow dwelling! 55 The exterminating Fiend is fled-- (Foul her life, and dark her doom) Mighty armies of the dead Dance, like death-fires, round her tomb! Then with prophetic song relate, 60 Each some Tyrant-Murderer's fate!
IV[164:1]
Departing Year! 'twas on no earthly shore My soul beheld thy Vision![164:2] Where alone, Voiceless and stern, before the cloudy throne, Aye Memory sits: thy robe inscrib'd with gore, 65 With many an unimaginable groan Thou storied'st thy sad hours! Silence ensued, Deep silence o'er the ethereal multitude, Whose locks with wreaths, whose wreaths with glories shone. Then, his eye wild ardours glancing, 70 From the choiréd gods advancing, The Spirit of the Earth made reverence meet, And stood up, beautiful, before the cloudy seat.
V
Throughout the blissful throng, Hush'd were harp and song: 75 Till wheeling round the throne the Lampads seven, (The mystic Words of Heaven) Permissive signal make: The fervent Spirit bow'd, then spread his wings and spake! 'Thou in stormy blackness throning 80 Love and uncreated Light, By the Earth's unsolaced groaning, Seize thy terrors, Arm of might! By Peace with proffer'd insult scared, Masked Hate and envying Scorn! 85 By years of Havoc yet unborn! And Hunger's bosom to the frost-winds bared! But chief by Afric's wrongs, Strange, horrible, and foul! By what deep guilt belongs 90 To the deaf Synod, 'full of gifts and lies!'[165:1] By Wealth's insensate laugh! by Torture's howl! Avenger, rise! For ever shall the thankless Island scowl, Her quiver full, and with unbroken bow? 95 Speak! from thy storm-black Heaven O speak aloud! And on the darkling foe Open thine eye of fire from some uncertain cloud! O dart the flash! O rise and deal the blow! The Past to thee, to thee the Future cries! 100 Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below! Rise, God of Nature! rise.'
VI[166:1]
The voice had ceas'd, the Vision fled; Yet still I gasp'd and reel'd with dread. And ever, when the dream of night 105 Renews the phantom to my sight, Cold sweat-drops gather on my limbs; My ears throb hot; my eye-balls start; My brain with horrid tumult swims; Wild is the tempest of my heart; 110 And my thick and struggling breath Imitates the toil of death! No stranger agony confounds The Soldier on the war-field spread, When all foredone with toil and wounds, 115 Death-like he dozes among heaps of dead! (The strife is o'er, the day-light fled, And the night-wind clamours hoarse! See! the starting wretch's head Lies pillow'd on a brother's corse!) 120
VII
Not yet enslaved, not wholly vile, O Albion! O my mother Isle! Thy valleys, fair as Eden's bowers, Glitter green with sunny showers; Thy grassy uplands' gentle swells 125 Echo to the bleat of flocks; (Those grassy hills, those glittering dells Proudly ramparted with rocks) And Ocean mid his uproar wild Speaks safety to his Island-child! 130 Hence for many a fearless age Has social Quiet lov'd thy shore; Nor ever proud Invader's rage Or sack'd thy towers, or stain'd thy fields with gore.
VIII
Abandon'd of Heaven![167:1] mad Avarice thy guide, 135 At cowardly distance, yet kindling with pride-- Mid thy herds and thy corn-fields secure thou hast stood, And join'd the wild yelling of Famine and Blood! The nations curse thee! They with eager wondering Shall hear Destruction, like a vulture, scream! 140 Strange-eyed Destruction! who with many a dream Of central fires through nether seas up-thundering Soothes her fierce solitude; yet as she lies By livid fount, or red volcanic stream, If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes, 145 O Albion! thy predestin'd ruins rise, The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap, Muttering distemper'd triumph in her charméd sleep.
IX
Away, my soul, away! In vain, in vain the Birds of warning sing-- 150 And hark! I hear the famish'd brood of prey Flap their lank pennons on the groaning wind! Away, my soul, away! I unpartaking of the evil thing, With daily prayer and daily toil 155 Soliciting for food my scanty soil, Have wail'd my country with a loud Lament. Now I recentre my immortal mind In the deep Sabbath of meek self-content; Cleans'd from the vaporous passions that bedim 160 God's Image, sister of the Seraphim.[168:1]
1796.
FOOTNOTES:
[160:1] First published in the _Cambridge Intelligencer_, December 31, 1796, and at the same time issued in a quarto pamphlet (the Preface is dated December 26): included in 1797, 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, 1829, and 1834. The Argument was first published in 1797. In 1803 the several sentences were printed as notes to the Strophes, Antistrophes, &c. For the Dedication vide Appendices.
This Ode was written on the 24th, 25th, and 26th days of December, 1796; and published separately on the last day of the year. _Footnote, 1797, 1808_: This Ode was composed and was first published on the last day of that year. _Footnote, S. L., 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834._
[160:2] The Ode commences with an address to the great BEING, or Divine Providence, who regulates into one vast Harmony all the Events of Time, however Calamitous some of them appear to mortals. _1803_.
[161:1] The second Strophe calls on men to suspend their private Joys and Sorrows, and to devote their passions for a while to the cause of human Nature in general. _1803_.
[161:2] The Name of Liberty, which at the commencement of the French Revolution was both the occasion and the pretext of unnumbered crimes and horrors. _1803_.
[162:1] The first Epode refers to the late Empress of Russia, who died of an apoplexy on the 17th of November, 1796, having just concluded a subsidiary treaty with the kings combined against France. _1803_. The Empress died just as she had engaged to furnish more effectual aid to the powers combined against France. _C. I._
[162:2] A subsidiary Treaty had been just concluded; and Russia was to have furnished more effectual aid than that of pious manifestoes to the Powers combined against France. I rejoice--not over the deceased Woman (I never dared figure the Russian Sovereign to my imagination under the dear and venerable Character of WOMAN--WOMAN, that complex term for Mother, Sister, Wife!) I rejoice, as at the disenshrining of a Daemon! I rejoice, as at the extinction of the evil Principle impersonated! This very day, six years ago, the massacre of Ismail was perpetrated. THIRTY THOUSAND HUMAN BEINGS, MEN, WOMEN, AND CHILDREN, murdered in cold blood, for no other crime than that their garrison had defended the place with perseverance and bravery. Why should I recal the poisoning of her husband, her iniquities in Poland, or her late unmotived attack on Persia, the desolating ambition of her public life, or the libidinous excesses of her private hours! I have no wish to qualify myself for the office of Historiographer to the King of Hell--! December, 23, 1796. _4{o}_.
[164:1] The first Antistrophe describes the Image of the Departing Year, as in a vision; and concludes with introducing the Planetary Angel of the Earth preparing to address the Supreme Being. _1803_.
[164:2] '_My soul beheld thy vision!_' i. e. Thy Image in a vision. _4{o}_.
[165:1] Gifts used in Scripture for corruption. _C. I._
[166:1] The poem concludes with prophecying in anguish of Spirit the Downfall of this Country. _1803_.
[167:1] '_Disclaim'd of Heaven!_'--The Poet from having considered the peculiar advantages, which this country has enjoyed, passes in rapid transition to the uses, which we have made of these advantages. We have been preserved by our insular situation, from suffering the actual horrors of War ourselves, and we have shewn our gratitude to Providence for this immunity by our eagerness to spread those horrors over nations less happily situated. In the midst of plenty and safety we have raised or joined the yell for famine and blood. Of the one hundred and seven last years, fifty have been years of War. Such wickedness cannot pass unpunished. We have been proud and confident in our alliances and our fleets--but God has prepared the canker-worm, and will smite the _gourds_ of our pride. 'Art thou better than populous No, that was situate among the rivers, that had the waters round about it, whose rampart was the Sea? Ethiopia and Egypt were her strength and it was infinite: Put and Lubim were her helpers. Yet she was carried away, she went into captivity: and they cast lots for her honourable men, and all her great men were bound in chains. Thou also shalt be drunken: all thy strongholds shall be like fig trees with the first ripe figs; if they be shaken, they shall even fall into the mouth of the eater. Thou hast multiplied thy merchants above the stars of heaven. Thy crowned are as the locusts; and thy captains as the great grasshoppers which camp in the hedges in the cool-day; but when the Sun ariseth they flee away, and their place is not known where they are. There is no healing of thy bruise; thy wound is grievous: all, that hear the report of thee, shall clap hands over thee: for upon whom hath not thy wickedness passed continually?' _Nahum_, chap. iii. _4{o}_, _1797_, _1803_.
[168:1] 'Let it not be forgotten during the perusal of this Ode that it was written many years before the abolition of the Slave Trade by the British Legislature, likewise before the invasion of Switzerland by the French Republic, which occasioned the Ode that follows [_France: an Ode._ First published as _The Recantation: an Ode_], a kind of Palinodia.' _MS. Note by S. T. C._
LINENOTES:
Title] Ode for the last day of the Year 1796, C. I.: Ode on the Departing Year 4{o}, 1797, 1803, S. L., 1817, 1828, 1829.
Motto] 3-5 All editions (4{o} to 1834) read ἐφημίοις for δυσφροιμίοις, and Ἄγαν γ' for Ἄγαν; and all before 1834 μην for μ' ἐν.
I] Strophe I C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[1] Spirit] Being 1803.
[4] unchanging] unchanged 4{o}.
[5] free] freed 4{o}.
[6] and a bowéd] and submitted 1803, S. L., 1817, 1828, 1829.
[7]
When lo! far onwards waving on the wind I saw the skirts of the DEPARTING YEAR.
C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[11] Ere yet he pierc'd the cloud and mock'd my sight C. I. foreclos'd] forebade 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
II] Strophe II C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[15-16]
From Poverty's heart-wasting languish From Distemper's midnight anguish
C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[22] Ye Sorrows, and ye Joys advance C. I. ye] and 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[25] Forbids its fateful strings to sleep C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[31] O'er the sore travail of the common Earth C. I., 4{o}.
[33-7]
Seiz'd in sore travail and portentous birth (Her eyeballs flashing a pernicious glare) Sick Nature struggles! Hark! her pangs increase! Her groans are horrible! but O! most fair The promis'd Twins she bears--Equality and Peace!
C. I., 4{o}.
[36] thy] the 1797, 1803.
III] Epode C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[40] Ah! whither C. I., 4{o}.
[41] on] o'er C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[43] 'twice mortal' mace C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[45] The insatiate] That tyrant C. I.] drunken] frenzied C. I.
[Between 51 and 52]
Whose shrieks, whose screams were vain to stir Loud-laughing, red-eyed Massacre
C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[58] armies] Army C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[61] Tyrant-Murderer's] scepter'd Murderer's C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[After 61]
When shall sceptred SLAUGHTER cease? A while he crouch'd, O Victor France! Beneath the lightning of thy lance; With treacherous dalliance courting PEACE--[163:A] But soon upstarting from his coward trance The boastful bloody Son of Pride betray'd His ancient hatred of the dove-eyed Maid. A cloud, O Freedom! cross'd thy orb of Light, And sure he deem'd that orb was set in night: For still does MADNESS roam on GUILT'S bleak dizzy height!
C. I.
When shall sceptred, &c.
* * * * *
With treacherous dalliance wooing Peace. But soon up-springing from his dastard trance The boastful bloody Son of Pride betray'd His hatred of the blest and blessing Maid. One cloud, O Freedom! cross'd thy orb of Light, And sure he deem'd that orb was quench'd in night: For still, &c.
4{o}.
[163:A] To juggle this easily-juggled people into better humour with the supplies (and themselves, perhaps, affrighted by the successes of the French) our Ministry sent an Ambassador to Paris to sue for Peace. The supplies are granted: and in the meantime the Archduke Charles turns the scale of victory on the Rhine, and Buonaparte is checked before Mantua. Straightways our courtly messenger is commanded to _uncurl_ his lips, and propose to the lofty Republic to _restore_ all _its_ conquests, and to suffer England to _retain_ all _hers_ (at least all her _important_ ones), as the only terms of Peace, and the ultimatum of the negotiation!
Θρασύνει γὰρ αἰσχρόμητις Τάλαινα ΠΑΡΑΚΟΠΑ πρωτοπήμων--AESCHYL., _Ag._ 222-4.
The friends of Freedom in this country are idle. Some are timid; some are selfish; and many the torpedo torch of hopelessness has numbed into inactivity. We would fain hope that (if the above account be accurate--it is only the French account) this dreadful instance of infatuation in our Ministry will rouse them to one effort more; and that at one and the same time in our different great towns the people will be called on to think solemnly, and declare their thoughts fearlessly by every method which the _remnant_ of the Constitution allows. _4{o}_.
IV] Antistrophe I. C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[62] no earthly] an awful C. I.
[65] thy . . . gore] there garmented with gore C. I., 4{o}, 1797.
[65-7]
Aye Memory sits: thy vest profan'd with gore. Thou with an unimaginable groan Gav'st reck'ning of thy Hours!
1803.
[68] ethereal] choired C. I.
[69] Whose purple locks with snow-white glories shone C. I., 4{o}: Whose wreathed locks with snow-white glories shone 1797, 1803.
[70] wild] strange C. I.
V] Antistrophe II. C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[74-9]
On every Harp on every Tongue While the mute Enchantment hung: Like Midnight from a thunder-cloud Spake the sudden Spirit loud.
C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
The sudden Spirit cried aloud.
C. I.
Like Thunder from a Midnight Cloud Spake the sudden Spirit loud
1803.
[83] Arm] God C. I.
[Between 83 and 84]
By Belgium's corse-impeded flood,[165:A] By Vendee steaming [streaming C. I.] Brother's blood.
C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[165:A] The Rhine. _C. I._, _1797_, _1803_.
[85] And mask'd Hate C. I.
[87] By Hunger's bosom to the bleak winds bar'd C. I.
[89] Strange] Most C. I.
[90] By] And C. I.
[91] Synod] Senate 1797, 1803.
[94-102]
For ever shall the bloody island scowl? For ever shall her vast and iron bow Shoot Famine's evil arrows o'er the world,[165:B] Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below; Rise, God of Mercy, rise! why sleep thy bolts unhurl'd?
C. I.
For ever shall the bloody Island scowl? For aye, unbroken shall her cruel Bow Shoot Famine's arrows o'er thy ravaged World? Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below-- Rise, God of Nature, rise, why sleep thy Bolts unhurl'd?
4{o}, 1797, 1803.
Rise God of Nature, rise! ah! why those bolts unhurl'd?
1797, 1803.
[165:B] 'In Europe the smoking villages of Flanders and the putrified fields of La Vendée--from Africa the unnumbered victims of a detestable Slave-Trade. In Asia the desolated plains of Indostan, and the millions whom a rice-contracting Governor caused to perish. In America the recent enormities of the Scalp-merchants. The four quarters of the globe groan beneath the intolerable iniquity of the nation.' See 'Addresses to the People', p. 46. _C. I._
[102] Here the Ode ends C. I.
VI] Epode II. 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[103] Vision] Phantoms 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[106] phantom] vision 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[107] sweat-drops] sweat-damps 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[113] stranger] uglier 4{o}.
[119] starting] startful 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[121] O doom'd to fall, enslav'd and vile 4{o}, 1797, 1803.
[133] proud Invader's] sworded Foeman's 4{o}, 1797: sworded Warrior's 1803.
[135-9]
Disclaim'd of Heaven! mad Avarice at thy side
4{o}, 1797.
At coward distance, yet with kindling pride-- Safe 'mid thy herds and cornfields thou hast stood, And join'd the yell of Famine and of Blood. All nations curse thee: and with eager wond'ring
4{o}, 1797.
[135] O abandon'd 1803.
[137-8]
Mid thy Corn-fields and Herds thou in plenty hast stood And join'd the loud yellings of Famine and Blood.
1803.
[139] They] and 1797, 1803, S. L. 1817.
[142] fires] flames 4{o}.
[144]
Stretch'd on the marge of some fire-flashing fount In the black Chamber of a sulphur'd mount.
4{o}.
[144] By livid fount, or roar of blazing stream 1797.
[146] Visions of thy predestin'd ruins rise 1803.
[151] famish'd] famin'd 4{o}.
[156] Soliciting my scant and blameless soil 4{o}.
[159-60]
In the long sabbath of high self-content. Cleans'd from the fleshly passions that bedim
4{o}.
In the deep sabbath of blest self-content Cleans'd from the fears and anguish that bedim
1797.
In the blest sabbath of high self-content Cleans'd from bedimming Fear, and Anguish weak and blind.
1803.
[161] om. 1803.
THE RAVEN[169:1]
A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY TO HIS LITTLE BROTHERS AND SISTERS
Underneath an old oak tree There was of swine a huge company, That grunted as they crunched the mast: For that was ripe, and fell full fast. Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high: 5 One acorn they left, and no more might you spy. Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly: He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy! Blacker was he than blackest jet, Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet. 10 He picked up the acorn and buried it straight By the side of a river both deep and great. Where then did the Raven go? He went high and low, Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go. 15 Many Autumns, many Springs Travelled[170:1] he with wandering wings: Many Summers, many Winters-- I can't tell half his adventures.
At length he came back, and with him a She, 20 And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree. They built them a nest in the topmost bough, And young ones they had, and were happy enow. But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise, His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes. 25 He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke, But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke, At length he brought down the poor Raven's own oak. His young ones were killed; for they could not depart, And their mother did die of a broken heart. 30
The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever; And they floated it down on the course of the river. They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip, And with this tree and others they made a good ship. The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land 35 Such a storm there did rise as no ship could withstand. It bulged on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast: Round and round flew the raven, and cawed to the blast. He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls-- See! see! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls! 40 Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet, And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet, And he thank'd him again and again for this treat: They had taken his all, and REVENGE IT WAS SWEET!
1797.
FOOTNOTES:
[169:1] First published in the _Morning Post_, March 10, 1798 (with an introductory letter, _vide infra_): included (with the letter, and except line 15 the same text) in the _Annual Anthology_, 1800, in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817 (pp. vi-viii), 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[To the editor of the _Morning Post_.]
'Sir,--I am not absolutely certain that the following Poem was written by EDMUND SPENSER, and found by an Angler buried in a fishing-box:--
'Under the foot of Mole, that mountain hoar, Mid the green alders, by the Mulla's shore.'
But a learned Antiquarian of my acquaintance has given it as his opinion that it resembles SPENSER'S minor Poems as nearly as Vortigern and Rowena the Tragedies of WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.--The Poem must be read in _recitative_, in the same manner as the Aegloga Secunda of the Shepherd's Calendar.
CUDDY.' _M. P._, _An. Anth._
[170:1] Seventeen or eighteen years ago an artist of some celebrity was so pleased with this doggerel that he amused himself with the thought of making a Child's Picture Book of it; but he could not hit on a picture for these four lines. I suggested a _Round-about_ with four seats, and the four seasons, as Children, with Time for the shew-man. Footnote, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817.
LINENOTES:
Title] 'A Christmas Tale,' &c., was first prefixed in S. L. 1817. The letter introduced the poem in the Morning Post. In the Annual Anthology the 'Letter' is headed 'The Raven'. Lamb in a letter to Coleridge, dated Feb. 5, 1797, alludes to this poem as 'Your _Dream_'.
[1-8]
Under the arms of a goodly oak-tree There was of Swine a large company. They were making a rude _repast_, Grunting as they crunch'd the _mast_. Then they trotted away: for the wind blew high-- 5 One acorn they left, ne more mote you spy, Next came a Raven, who lik'd not such folly: He belong'd, I believe, to the witch MELANCHOLY!
M. P., An. Anth., and (with variants given below) MS. S. T. C.
[1] Beneath a goodly old oak tree MS. S. T. C.: an old] a huge S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.
[6] ne more] and no more MS. S. T. C.
[7] Next] But soon MS. S. T. C.
[8] belonged it was said S. L. 1817.
[10] in the rain; his feathers were wet M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.
[15] O'er hill, o'er dale M. P.
[17] with] on MS. S. T. C.
[20] came back] return'd M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.
[21] to a tall] a large M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.
[22] topmost] uppermost MS. S. T. C.
[23] happy] jolly M. P., An. Anth.
[26] and _he_ nothing spoke M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.
[28] At length] Wel-a-day MS. S. T. C.: At last M. P., An. Anth.
[30] And his wife she did die M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.
[31] The branches from off it M. P., An. Anth.: The branches from off this the MS. S. T. C.
[32] And floated MS. S. T. C.
[33] They saw'd it to planks, and its rind M. P., An. Anth.: They saw'd it to planks and its bark MS. S. T. C.
[34] they built up a ship M. P., An. Anth.
[36] Such . . . ship] A tempest arose which no ship M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.
[38] The auld raven flew round and round M. P., An. Anth.: The old raven flew round and round MS. S. T. C., S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.
[39] He heard the sea-shriek of their perishing souls M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.
[40-4]
They be sunk! O'er the topmast the mad water rolls The Raven was glad that such fate they did _meet_. They had taken his all and REVENGE WAS SWEET.
M. P., An. Anth.
[40] See she sinks MS. S. T. C.
[41] Very glad was the Raven, this fate they did meet MS. S. T. C.
[42-3] om. MS. S. T. C.
[44] Revenge was sweet. An. Anth., MS. S. T. C., S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.
After l. 44, two lines were added in Sibylline Leaves, 1817:--
We must not think so; but forget and forgive, And what Heaven gives life to, we'll still let it live.[171:A]
[171:A] Added thro' cowardly fear of the Goody! What a Hollow, where the Heart of Faith ought to be, does it not betray? this alarm concerning Christian morality, that will not permit even a Raven to be a Raven, nor a Fox a Fox, but demands conventicular justice to be inflicted on their unchristian conduct, or at least an antidote to be annexed. _MS. Note by S. T. C._
TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN AT THE THEATRE[171:1]
Maiden, that with sullen brow Sitt'st behind those virgins gay, Like a scorch'd and mildew'd bough, Leafless 'mid the blooms of May!
Him who lur'd thee and forsook, 5 Oft I watch'd with angry gaze, Fearful saw his pleading look, Anxious heard his fervid phrase.
Soft the glances of the Youth, Soft his speech, and soft his sigh; 10 But no sound like simple Truth, But no _true_ love in his eye.
Loathing thy polluted lot, Hie thee, Maiden, hie thee hence! Seek thy weeping Mother's cot, 15 With a wiser innocence.
Thou hast known deceit and folly, Thou hast _felt_ that Vice is woe: With a musing melancholy Inly arm'd, go, Maiden! go. 20
Mother sage of Self-dominion, Firm thy steps, O Melancholy! The strongest plume in Wisdom's pinion Is the memory of past folly.
Mute the sky-lark and forlorn, 25 While she moults the firstling plumes, That had skimm'd the tender corn, Or the beanfield's odorous blooms.
Soon with renovated wing Shall she dare a loftier flight, 30 Upward to the Day-Star spring, And embathe in heavenly light.
1797.
FOOTNOTES:
[171:1] First published in the _Morning Post_, December 7, 1797: included in the _Annual Anthology_, 1800, in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1828, 1829, and 1834. For MS. sent to Cottle, see _E. R._ 1834, i. 213, 214.
LINENOTES:
Title] To an Unfortunate Woman in the Back Seats of the Boxes at the Theatre M. P.: To an Unfortunate Young Woman whom I had known in the days of her Innocence MS. sent to Cottle, E. R. i. 213: To an Unfortunate Woman whom the Author knew in the days of her Innocence. Composed at the Theatre An. Anth. 1800.
[1] Maiden] Sufferer An. Anth.
[In place of 5-12]
Inly gnawing, thy distresses Mock those starts of wanton glee; And thy inmost soul confesses Chaste Affection's [affliction's An. Anth.] majesty.
MS. Cottle, An. Anth.
[14] Maiden] Sufferer An. Anth.
[22] Firm are thy steps M. P.
[25] sky-lark] Lavrac MS. Cottle, An. Anth.
[26] the] those MS. Cottle, M. P., An. Anth.
[27] Which late had M. P.
[31] Upwards to the day star sing MS. Cottle, An. Anth.
Stanzas ii, iii, v, vi are not in MS. Cottle nor in the Annual Anthology.
TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN[172:1]
WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD KNOWN IN THE DAYS OF HER INNOCENCE
Myrtle-leaf that, ill besped, Pinest in the gladsome ray, Soil'd beneath the common tread Far from thy protecting spray!
When the Partridge o'er the sheaf 5 Whirr'd along the yellow vale, Sad I saw thee, heedless leaf! Love the dalliance of the gale.
Lightly didst thou, foolish thing! Heave and flutter to his sighs, 10 While the flatterer, on his wing, Woo'd and whisper'd thee to rise.
Gaily from thy mother-stalk Wert thou danc'd and wafted high-- Soon on this unshelter'd walk 15 Flung to fade, to rot and die.
1797.
FOOTNOTES:
[172:1] First published in 1797: included in 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
LINENOTES:
Title] Allegorical Lines on the Same Subject MS. Cottle.
[5]
When the scythes-man o'er his sheaf Caroll'd in the yellow vale
MS. Cottle.
When the rustic o'er his sheaf Caroll'd in, &c.
1797.
[_Note._ The text of Stanza ii dates from 1803.]
[9] foolish] poor fond MS. Cottle.
[15] Soon upon this sheltered walk, MS. Cottle, Second Version.
[16] to fade, and rot. MS. Cottle.
TO THE REV. GEORGE COLERIDGE[173:1]
OF OTTERY ST. MARY, DEVON
_With some Poems_
Notus in fratres animi paterni. HOR. _Carm._ lib. II. 2.
A blesséd lot hath he, who having passed His youth and early manhood in the stir And turmoil of the world, retreats at length, With cares that move, not agitate the heart, To the same dwelling where his father dwelt; 5 And haply views his tottering little ones Embrace those agéd knees and climb that lap, On which first kneeling his own infancy Lisp'd its brief prayer. Such, O my earliest Friend! Thy lot, and such thy brothers too enjoy. 10 At distance did ye climb Life's upland road, Yet cheer'd and cheering: now fraternal love Hath drawn you to one centre. Be your days Holy, and blest and blessing may ye live!
To me the Eternal Wisdom hath dispens'd 15 A different fortune and more different mind-- Me from the spot where first I sprang to light Too soon transplanted, ere my soul had fix'd Its first domestic loves; and hence through life Chasing chance-started friendships. A brief while 20 Some have preserv'd me from life's pelting ills; But, like a tree with leaves of feeble stem, If the clouds lasted, and a sudden breeze Ruffled the boughs, they on my head at once Dropped the collected shower; and some most false, 25 False and fair-foliag'd as the Manchineel, Have tempted me to slumber in their shade E'en mid the storm; then breathing subtlest damps, Mix'd their own venom with the rain from Heaven, That I woke poison'd! But, all praise to Him 30 Who gives us all things, more have yielded me Permanent shelter; and beside one Friend, Beneath the impervious covert of one oak, I've rais'd a lowly shed, and know the names Of Husband and of Father; not unhearing 35 Of that divine and nightly-whispering Voice, Which from my childhood to maturer years Spake to me of predestinated wreaths, Bright with no fading colours!
Yet at times My soul is sad, that I have roam'd through life 40 Still most a stranger, most with naked heart At mine own home and birth-place: chiefly then, When I remember thee, my earliest Friend! Thee, who didst watch my boyhood and my youth; Didst trace my wanderings with a father's eye; 45 And boding evil yet still hoping good, Rebuk'd each fault, and over all my woes Sorrow'd in silence! He who counts alone The beatings of the solitary heart, That Being knows, how I have lov'd thee ever, 50 Lov'd as a brother, as a son rever'd thee! Oh! 'tis to me an ever new delight, To talk of thee and thine: or when the blast Of the shrill winter, rattling our rude sash, Endears the cleanly hearth and social bowl; 55 Or when, as now, on some delicious eve, We in our sweet sequester'd orchard-plot Sit on the tree crook'd earth-ward; whose old boughs, That hang above us in an arborous roof, Stirr'd by the faint gale of departing May, 60 Send their loose blossoms slanting o'er our heads!
Nor dost not thou sometimes recall those hours, When with the joy of hope thou gavest thine ear To my wild firstling-lays. Since then my song Hath sounded deeper notes, such as beseem 65 Or that sad wisdom folly leaves behind, Or such as, tuned to these tumultuous times, Cope with the tempest's swell!
Those various strains, Which I have fram'd in many a various mood, Accept, my Brother! and (for some perchance 70 Will strike discordant on thy milder mind) If aught of error or intemperate truth Should meet thine ear, think thou that riper Age Will calm it down, and let thy love forgive it!
NETHER-STOWEY, SOMERSET, _May_ 26, 1797.
FOOTNOTES:
[173:1] First published as the Dedication to the Poems of 1797: included in 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. In a copy of the _Poems_ of 1797, formerly in the possession of the late Mr. Frederick Locker-Lampson, Coleridge affixed the following note to the Dedication--'N. B. If this volume should ever be delivered according to its direction, _i. e._ to Posterity, let it be known that the Reverend George Coleridge was displeased and thought his character endangered by the Dedication.'--S. T. Coleridge. _Note_ to _P. and D. W._, 1877-80, i. 163.
LINENOTES:
_To the Rev. George Coleridge_--Motto] lib. I. 2 S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834.
[10] Thine and thy Brothers' favourable lot. 1803.
[23] and] or 1797, 1803.
[30] That I woke prison'd! But (the praise be His 1803.
[33-4]
I as beneath the covert of an oak Have rais'd
1803.
[35] not] nor 1797, 1803, S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.
[47-9]
Rebuk'd each fault, and wept o'er all my woes. Who counts the beatings of the lonely heart
1797, 1803.
[Between 52-3] My eager eye glist'ning with memry's tear 1797.
[62] thou] _thou_ all editions to 1834.
[Between 66-7] Or the high raptures of prophetic Faith 1797, 1803.
[68] strains] songs 1797, 1803.
ON THE CHRISTENING OF A FRIEND'S CHILD[176:1]
This day among the faithful plac'd And fed with fontal manna, O with maternal title grac'd, Dear Anna's dearest Anna!
While others wish thee wise and fair, 5 A maid of spotless fame, I'll breathe this more compendious prayer-- May'st thou deserve thy name!
Thy mother's name, a potent spell, That bids the Virtues hie 10 From mystic grove and living cell, Confess'd to Fancy's eye;
Meek Quietness without offence; Content in homespun kirtle; True Love; and True Love's Innocence, 15 White Blossom of the Myrtle!
Associates of thy name, sweet Child! These Virtues may'st thou win; With face as eloquently mild To say, they lodge within. 20
So, when her tale of days all flown, Thy mother shall be miss'd here; When Heaven at length shall claim its own And Angels snatch their Sister;
Some hoary-headed friend, perchance, 25 May gaze with stifled breath; And oft, in momentary trance, Forget the waste of death.
Even thus a lovely rose I've view'd In summer-swelling pride; 30 Nor mark'd the bud, that green and rude Peep'd at the rose's side.
It chanc'd I pass'd again that way In Autumn's latest hour, And wond'ring saw the selfsame spray 35 Rich with the selfsame flower.
Ah fond deceit! the rude green bud Alike in shape, place, name, Had bloom'd where bloom'd its parent stud, Another and the same! 40
1797.
FOOTNOTES:
[176:1] First published in the Supplement to _Poems_, 1797: reprinted in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. 48, 49: included in 1844 and 1852. The lines were addressed to Anna Cruickshank, the wife of John Cruickshank, who was a neighbour of Coleridge at Nether-Stowey.
TRANSLATION[177:1]
OF A LATIN INSCRIPTION BY THE REV. W. L. BOWLES IN NETHER-STOWEY CHURCH
Depart in joy from this world's noise and strife To the deep quiet of celestial life! Depart!--Affection's self reproves the tear Which falls, O honour'd Parent! on thy bier;-- Yet Nature will be heard, the heart will swell, 5 And the voice tremble with a last Farewell!
1797.
[_The Tablet is erected to the Memory of Richard Camplin, who died Jan. 20, 1792._
'Lætus abi! mundi strepitu curisque remotus; Lætus abi! cæli quâ vocat alma Quies. Ipsa fides loquitur lacrymamque incusat inanem, Quæ cadit in vestros, care Pater, Cineres. Heu! tantum liceat meritos hos solvere Ritus, 5 Naturæ et tremulâ dicere Voce, Vale!']
FOOTNOTES:
[177:1] First published in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. 50. First collected in _P. and D. W._, 1877, ii. 365.
LINENOTES:
[6] Et longum tremulâ L. R. 1836.
THIS LIME-TREE BOWER MY PRISON[178:1]
[ADDRESSED TO CHARLES LAMB, OF THE INDIA HOUSE, LONDON]
In the June of 1797 some long-expected friends paid a visit to the author's cottage; and on the morning of their arrival, he met with an accident, which disabled him from walking during the whole time of their stay. One evening, when they had left him for a few hours, he composed the following lines in the garden-bower.[178:2]
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost Beauties and feelings, such as would have been Most sweet to my remembrance even when age Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile, 5 Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy[179:1] heath, along the hill-top edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told; The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, 10 And only speckled by the mid-day sun; Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock Flings arching like a bridge;--that branchless ash, Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, 15 Fann'd by the water-fall! and there my friends Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds,[179:2] That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge Of the blue clay-stone.
Now, my friends emerge 20 Beneath the wide wide Heaven--and view again The many-steepled tract magnificent Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea, With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles 25 Of purple shadow! Yes! they wander on In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad, My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined And hunger'd after Nature, many a year, In the great City pent, winning thy way 30 With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! 35 Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem 40 Less gross than bodily; and of such hues As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes Spirits perceive his presence.
A delight Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad As I myself were there! Nor in this bower, 45 This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd Much that has sooth'd me. Pale beneath the blaze Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see The shadow of the leaf and stem above 50 Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue 55 Through the late twilight: and though now the bat Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, Yet still the solitary humble-bee Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure; 60 No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, No waste so vacant, but may well employ Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes 'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good, 65 That we may lift the soul, and contemplate With lively joy the joys we cannot share. My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook Beat its straight path along the dusky air Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing 70 (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still, Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm[181:1] For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom 75 No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.
1797.
FOOTNOTES:
[178:1] First published in the _Annual Anthology_, 1800, reprinted in Mylius' _Poetical Classbook_, 1810: included in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, in 1828, 1829, and 1834. The poem was sent in a letter to Southey, July 9, 1797, and in a letter to C. Lloyd, [July, 1797]. See _Letters of S. T. C._, 1895, i. 225-7 and _P. W._, 1893, p. 591.
[178:2] 'Ch. and Mary Lamb--dear to my heart, yea, as it were my Heart.--S. T. C. Æt. 63; 1834--1797-1834 = 37 years!' (Marginal note written by S. T. Coleridge over against the introductory note to 'This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison', in a copy of the _Poetical Works_, 1834.)
[179:1] 'Elastic, I mean.' _MS. Letter to Southey._
[179:2] The _Asplenium Scolopendrium_, called in some countries the Adder's Tongue, in others the Hart's Tongue, but Withering gives the Adder's Tongue as the trivial name of the _Ophioglossum_ only.
[181:1] Some months after I had written this line, it gave me pleasure to find [to observe _An. Anth._, _S. L. 1828_] that Bartram had observed the same circumstance of the Savanna Crane. 'When these Birds move their wings in flight, their strokes are slow, moderate and regular; and even when at a considerable distance or high above us, we plainly hear the quill-feathers: their shafts and webs upon one another creek as the joints or working of a vessel in a tempestuous sea.'
LINENOTES:
Title] This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison. A Poem Addressed, &c. An. Anth.: the words 'Addressed to', &c., are omitted in Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[1-28]
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain, Lam'd by the scathe of fire, lonely and faint, This lime-tree bower my prison! They, meantime, My Friends, whom I may never meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top edge 5 Wander delighted, and look down, perchance, On that same rifted dell, where many an ash Twists its wild limbs beside the ferny rock Whose plumy[178:A] ferns forever nod and drip Spray'd by the waterfall. But chiefly thou 10 My gentle-hearted _Charles_! thou who had pin'd
MS. Letter to Southey, July 17, 1797.
[178:A] The ferns that grow in moist places grow five or six together, and form a complete 'Prince of Wales's Feather'--that is plumy. _Letter to Southey._
[1-28]
Well they are gone, and here I must remain This lime-tree, . . . hill-top edge Delighted wander, and look down, perchance, On that same rifted dell, where the wet ash Twists its wild limbs above, . . . who hast pin'd
MS. Letter to Lloyd [July, 1797].
[3] Such beauties and such feelings, as had been An. Anth., S. L.
[4] my remembrance] to have remembered An. Anth.
[6] My Friends, whom I may never meet again An. Anth., S. L.
[20] blue] dim An. Anth.
[22] tract] track An. Anth., S. L. 1828.
[24] bark, perhaps, which lightly touches An. Anth.
[28] hast] had'st An. Anth.
[31] patient] bowed MS. Letter to Southey.
[34] beams] heaven MS. Letter to Southey.
[38 foll.]
Struck with joy's deepest calm, and gazing round On the wide view[180:A] may gaze till all doth seem Less gross than bodily; a living thing That acts upon the mind, and with such hues As clothe th' Almighty Spirit, when he makes.
MS. Letter to Southey.
[180:A] You remember I am a _Berkleyan_. _Note to Letter._
[40] wide] wild S. L.
[40] (for _wild_ r. _wide_; and the two following lines thus:
Less gross than bodily; and of such hues As veil the Almighty Spirit
_Errata_, S. L., p. [xii].)
As veil the Almighty Spirit, when he makes
1828.
[41 foll.]
Less gross than bodily, a living thing Which acts upon the mind and with such hues As cloathe the Almighty Spirit, when he makes
An. Anth., S. L.
[45 foll.]
As I myself were there! Nor in the bower Want I sweet sounds or pleasing shapes. I watch'd The sunshine of each broad transparent leaf Broke by the shadows of the leaf or stem Which hung above it: and that walnut tree
MS. Letter to Southey.
[55] branches] foliage MS. Letter to Southey.
[56] and though the rapid bat MS. Letter to Southey.
[60-64] om. in MS. Letter to Lloyd.
[61-2] No scene so narrow but may well employ MS. Letter to Southey, An. Anth.
[68] My Sister and my Friends MS. Letter to Southey: My Sara and my Friends MS. Letter to Lloyd.
[70] Homewards] Homeward MS. Letter to Lloyd.
[71] om. in MS. Letter to Lloyd. in the light An. Anth., S. L. (omit _the_ before _light_. _Errata_, S. L., [p. xii]).
[72] Cross'd like a speck the blaze of setting day MS. Letter to Southey: Had cross'd the mighty orb's dilated blase. MS. Letter to Lloyd.
[73] While ye [you MS. Letter to Lloyd] stood MS. Letter to Southey.
[74] thy head] your heads MSS. Letters to Southey and Lloyd.
[75] For you my Sister and my Friends MS. Letter to Southey: For you my Sara and my Friends MS. Letter to Lloyd.
THE FOSTER-MOTHER'S TALE[182:1]
A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT
[From _Osorio_, Act IV. The title and text are here printed from _Lyrical Ballads_, 1798.]
_Foster-Mother._ I never saw the man whom you describe.
_Maria._ 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly As mine and Albert's common Foster-mother.
_Foster-Mother._ Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be, That joined your names with mine! O my sweet lady, 5 As often as I think of those dear times When you two little ones would stand at eve On each side of my chair, and make me learn All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you-- 10 'Tis more like heaven to come than what _has_ been!
_Maria._ O my dear Mother! this strange man has left me Troubled with wilder fancies, than the moon Breeds in the love-sick maid who gazes at it, Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye 15 She gazes idly!--But that entrance, Mother!
_Foster-Mother._ Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale!
_Maria._ No one.
_Foster-Mother._ My husband's father told it me, Poor old Leoni!--Angels rest his soul! He was a woodman, and could fell and saw 20 With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam Which props the hanging wall of the old Chapel? Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree, He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool 25 As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home, And rear'd him at the then Lord Velez' cost. And so the babe grew up a pretty boy, A pretty boy, but most unteachable-- And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead, 30 But knew the names of birds, and mock'd their notes, And whistled, as he were a bird himself: And all the autumn 'twas his only play To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them With earth and water, on the stumps of trees. 35 A Friar, who gather'd simples in the wood, A grey-haired man--he lov'd this little boy, The boy lov'd him--and, when the Friar taught him, He soon could write with the pen: and from that time, Lived chiefly at the Convent or the Castle. 40 So he became a very learnéd youth. But Oh! poor wretch!--he read, and read, and read, Till his brain turn'd--and ere his twentieth year, He had unlawful thoughts of many things: And though he prayed, he never lov'd to pray 45 With holy men, nor in a holy place-- But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him. And once, as by the north side of the Chapel They stood together, chain'd in deep discourse, 50 The earth heav'd under them with such a groan, That the wall totter'd, and had well-nigh fallen Right on their heads. My Lord was sorely frighten'd; A fever seiz'd him, and he made confession Of all the heretical and lawless talk 55 Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seiz'd And cast into that hole. My husband's father Sobb'd like a child--it almost broke his heart: And once as he was working in the cellar, He heard a voice distinctly; 'twas the youth's, 60 Who sung a doleful song about green fields, How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah, To hunt for food, and be a naked man, And wander up and down at liberty. He always doted on the youth, and now 65 His love grew desperate; and defying death, He made that cunning entrance I describ'd: And the young man escap'd.
_Maria._ 'Tis a sweet tale: Such as would lull a listening child to sleep, His rosy face besoil'd with unwiped tears.-- 70 And what became of him?
_Foster-Mother._ He went on shipboard With those bold voyagers, who made discovery Of golden lands. Leoni's younger brother Went likewise, and when he return'd to Spain, He told Leoni, that the poor mad youth, 75 Soon after they arriv'd in that new world, In spite of his dissuasion, seiz'd a boat, And all alone, set sail by silent moonlight Up a great river, great as any sea, And ne'er was heard of more: but 'tis suppos'd, 80 He liv'd and died among the savage men.
1797.
FOOTNOTES:
[182:1] First published in the first edition of the _Lyrical Ballads_, 1798, and reprinted in the editions of 1800, 1803, and 1805. The 'dramatic fragment' was excluded from the acting version of _Remorse_, but was printed in an Appendix, p. 75, to the Second Edition of the Play, 1813. It is included in the body of the work in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, and again in 1852, and in the Appendix to _Remorse_ in the editions of 1828, 1829, and 1834. It is omitted from 1844. 'The "Foster-Mother's Tale," (From Mr. C.'s own handwriting)' was published in Cottle's _Early Recollections_, i. 235.
'The following scene as unfit for the stage was taken from the Tragedy in 1797, and published in the _Lyrical Ballads_. But this work having been long out of print, and it having been determined, that this with my other poems in that collection (the _Nightingale_, _Love_, and the _Ancient Mariner_) should be omitted in any future edition, I have been advised to reprint it as a Note to the Second Scene of Act the Fourth, p. 55.' App. to _Remorse_, Ed. 2, 1813. [This note is reprinted in 1828 and 1829, but in 1834 only the first sentence is prefixed to the scene.]
LINENOTES:
Title] Foster-Mother's Tale. (Scene--Spain) Cottle, 1837: The, &c. A Narration in Dramatic Blank Verse L. B. 1800. In Remorse, App., 1813 and in 1828, 1829, 1834, the _dramatis personae_ are respectively Teresa and Selma. The fragment opens thus:--_Enter Teresa and Selma._
_Ter._ 'Tis said, he spake of you familiarly As mine and Alvar's common foster-mother.
In Cottle's version, the scene begins at line 4.
[1] man] Moor _Osorio_, MS. I.
[12-16] O my dear Mother . . . She gazes idly! om. 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
[12] me] us Cottle, 1837.
[13] the] yon _Osorio_, MS. I.
[16] In Lyrical Ballads, 1800, the scene begins with the words: 'But that entrance'. But that entrance, Selma? 1813.
[19] Leoni] Sesina 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
[27] Velez'] Valdez' 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834: Valez' S. L. 1817.
[34] To gather seeds 1813, S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834.
[36] gather'd] oft culled S. L. 1817.
[41] So he became a rare and learned youth 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
[41-2]
So he became a very learned man. But O poor youth
Cottle, 1837.
[48] Velez] Valdez 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834: Valez S. L. 1817.
[54] made a confession _Osorio_. A fever seiz'd the youth and he made confession Cottle, 1837.
[57] hole] cell L. B. 1800: den 1813. [And fetter'd in that den. MS. S. T. C.].
[59] in the cellar] near this dungeon 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
[62] wild] wide 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
[65] He always] Leoni L. B. 1800.
[68-9] om. L. B. 1800.
[73] Leoni's] Sesina's 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834. younger] youngest S. L. 1817.
[75] Leoni] Sesina 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
THE DUNGEON[185:1]
[From _Osorio_, Act V; and _Remorse_, Act V, Scene i. The title and text are here printed from _Lyrical Ballads_, 1798.]
And this place our forefathers made for man! This is the process of our love and wisdom, To each poor brother who offends against us-- Most innocent, perhaps--and what if guilty? Is this the only cure? Merciful God! 5 Each pore and natural outlet shrivell'd up By Ignorance and parching Poverty, His energies roll back upon his heart, And stagnate and corrupt; till chang'd to poison, They break out on him, like a loathsome plague-spot; 10 Then we call in our pamper'd mountebanks-- And this is their best cure! uncomforted And friendless solitude, groaning and tears, And savage faces, at the clanking hour, Seen through the steams and vapour of his dungeon, 15 By the lamp's dismal twilight! So he lies Circled with evil, till his very soul Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deform'd By sights of ever more deformity!
With other ministrations thou, O Nature! 20 Healest thy wandering and distemper'd child: Thou pourest on him thy soft influences, Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets, Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters, Till he relent, and can no more endure 25 To be a jarring and a dissonant thing, Amid this general dance and minstrelsy; But, bursting into tears, wins back his way, His angry spirit heal'd and harmoniz'd By the benignant touch of Love and Beauty. 30
1797.
FOOTNOTES:
[185:1] First published in the _Lyrical Ballads_, 1798, and reprinted in the _Lyrical Ballads_, 1800. First collected (as a separate poem) in _Poems_, 1893, p. 85.
LINENOTES:
[1] our] my _Osorio_, Act V, i. 107. 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834. man] men _Osorio_.
[15] steams and vapour] steaming vapours _Osorio_, V, i. 121: steam and vapours 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER[186:1]
IN SEVEN PARTS
Facile credo, plures esse Naturas invisibiles quam visibiles in rerum universitate. Sed horum omnium familiam quis nobis enarrabit? et gradus et cognationes et discrimina et singulorum munera? Quid agunt? quae loca habitant? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquam attigit. Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque in animo, tanquam in tabulâ, majoris et melioris mundi imaginem contemplari: ne mens assuefacta hodiernae vitae minutiis se contrahat nimis, et tota subsidat in pusillas cogitationes. Sed veritati interea invigilandum est, modusque servandus, ut certa ab incertis, diem a nocte, distinguamus.--T. BURNET, _Archaeol. Phil._ p. 68.[186:2]
ARGUMENT
How a Ship having passed the Line was driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back to his own Country. [_L. B._ 1798.][186:3]