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Samuel Taylor 







Ernest Hartley Coleridge 

*Mr. Coleridge has carried through 
his task, a difficult and elaborate 
one, with an accurate and pains- 
taking scholarship that is deserv- 
ing of the highest praise, and as a 
textual study of the poems his 
work is not likely to be super- 
seded,' Modern Language Reviezv 

:ii',ih'u»ii;. * OfSffhii 




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M.A., HON. F.R.S.L. 




Oxford ( )iirei\siti/ I', hUj I louse, London li . / 





ISBN li) N11806 6 

First published 1912 
Reprinted 1957, 1962, 1966, 1968, and 1975 

Printed in Great Britain 

at the University Press, Oxford 

by Vivian Ridler 

Printer to the University 





The aim and purport of this edition of the Poetical Works of 
Samuel Taylor Coleridge is to provide the general reader with 
an authoritative list of the poems and dramas hitherto published, 
and at the same time to furnish the student with an exhaustive 
summary of various readings derived from published and un- 
published sources, viz. (1) the successive editions issued by the 
author, (2) holograph MSS., or (3) contemporary transcriptions. 
Occasion has been taken to include in the Text and Appendices 
a considerable number of poems, fragments, metrical experi- 
ments and first drafts of poems now published for the first time 
from MSS. in the British Museum, from Coleridge's Notebooks, 
and from MSS. in the possession of private collectors. 

The text of the poems and dramas follows that of the last 
edition of the Foetical Worhs published in the author's lifetime — 
the three-volume edition issued by Pickering in the spring and 
summer of 1834. 

I have adopted the text of 1834 in preference to that of 1829, 
which was selected by James Dykes Campbell for his monumental 
edition of 1893. I should have deferred to his authority but 
for the existence of conclusive proof that, here and there, 
Coleridge altered and emended the text of 1829, with a view to 
the forthcoming edition of 1834. In the Preface to the ' new 
edition' of 1852, the editors maintain that the three-volume 
edition of 1828 (a mistake for 1829) was the last upon which 
Coleridge was 'able to bestow personal care and attention', 
while that of 1834 was ' arranged mainly if not entirely at the 
discretion of his latest editor, H. N. Coleridge'. This, no 
doubt, was perfectly true with regard to the choice and arrange- 
ment of the poems, and the labour of seeing the three volumes 
through the press ; but the fact remains that the text of 1829 
differs from that of 1834, and that Coleridge himself, and not 
his ' latest editor ', was responsible for that difference. 

I have in my possession the proof of the first page of 
the 'Destiny of Nations' as it appeared in 1828 and 1829. 
Line 5 ran thus: 'The Will, the Word, the Breath, the 


iv PliEFACK 

Living (tocI.' This line is erased and line 5 ot l.'S.'U sulj- 
stituted : 'T.. the Will Absolute, llie One. the Good' and 
line t), ' Tlie I am, the Word, the Life, the Living God,' is 
added, and, in 1834, appeared for the first time. Moreover, 
in the 'Songs of the Pixies', lines 9, 11, 12, 15, 16, as printed in 
18'34, differ from the readings of 1829 and all i)revious editions. 
Again, in ' Christabel ' lines 0, 7 as printed in 183-1 differ from 
the versions of 1828, 1829, and revert to the original reading 
of the MSS. and the First Edition. It is inconceivable that in 
Coleridge's lifetime and while his pen was still busy, liis 
nephew should have meddled with, or remodelled, the master's 

The poems have been printed, as far as possible, in chrono- 
logical order, but when no MS. is extant, or when the MS. 
authority is a first draft embodied in a notebook, the exact date 
can only be arrived at by a balance of probabilities. The 
present edition includes all poems and fragments published for 
the first time in 1893. Many of these were excerpts from the 
Notebooks, collected, transcribed, and dated by myself. Some 
of the fragments {vide post, p. 996, n. 1) I have since discovered 
are not original compositions, but were selected passages from 
elder poets — amongst them Cartwright's lines, entitled 'The 
Second Birth ', w^hich are printed on p. 362 of the text ; but 
for their insertion in the edition of 1893, for a few misreadings 
of the MSS., and for their approximate date, I was mainly 

In preparing the textual and bibliographical notes which are 
now printed as footnotes to the poems I was constantlyindebted 
for information and suggestions to the Notes to the Poems 
(pp. 561-654) in the edition of 1893. I have taken nothing for 
granted, but I have followed, for the part, where Dykes 
Campbell led, and if I differ from his conclusions or have been 
able to supply fresh information, it is because fresh information 
based on fresh material was at my disposal. 

No apology is needed for publishing a collation of the text of 
Coleridge's Poems with that of earlier editions or with the MSS. 
of first drafts and alternative versions. The first to attempt 
anything of the kind was Richard Heme Shepherd, the learned 
and accurate editor of the Poetical Worl'S in four volumes, issued 
by Basil Montagu Pickering in 1877. Important variants are 
recorded by Mr. Campbell in his Notes to the edition of 1893 ; 


and in a posthumous volume, edited by Mr. Hale White in 1899 
(Coleridge's Poems, &c.), the corrected parts of 'Religious Musings', 
the MSS. of ' Lewti ', the ' Introduction to the Dark Ladie ', and 
other poems are reproduced in facsimile. Few poets have altered 
the text of their poems so often, and so often for the better, as 
Coleridge. He has been blamed for ' writing so little ', for desert- 
ing poetry for metaphysics and theology ; he has been upbraided 
for winning only to lose the ' prize of his high calling '. Sir 
Walter Scott, one of his kindlier censors, rebukes him for ' the 
caprice and indolence with which he has thrown from him, 
as if in mere wantonness, those unfinished scraps of poetry, 
which like the Torso of antiquity defy the skill of his poetical 
brethren to complete them '. But whatever may be said for or 
against Coleridge as an 'inventor of harmonies', neither the 
fineness of his self-criticism nor the laborious diligence which 
he expended on perfecting his inventions can be gainsaid. 
His erasures and emendations are not only a lesson in the art 
of poetry, not only a record of poetical growth and develop- 
ment, but they discover and reveal the hidden springs, the 
thoughts and passions of the artificer. 

But if this be true of a stanza, a line, a word here or there, 
inserted as an afterthought, is there use or sense in printing 
a number of trifling or, apparently, accidental variants? 
Might not a choice have been made, and the jots and tittles 
ignored or suppressed ? 

My plea is that it is difficult if not impossible to draw a line 
above which a variant is important and below which it is negli- 
gible ; that, to use a word of the poet's own coining, his emenda- 
tions are rarely if ever 'lightheartednesses' ; and that if a collation 
of the printed text with MSS. is worth studying at all the one 
must be as decipherable as the other. Facsimiles are rare and 
costly productions, and an exhaustive table of variants is the 
nearest approach to a substitute. Many, I know, are the short- 
comings, too many, I fear, are the errors in the footnotes to this 
volume, but now, for the first time, the MSS. of Coleridge's 
poems which are known to be extant are in a manner reproduced 
and made available for study and research. 

Six poems of some length are now printed and included in 
the text of the poems for the first time. 

The first, ' Easter Holidays ' (p. 1), is unquestionably a 
' School-boy Poem ', and was written some months before the 


author had completed his fifteenth year. It tends to throw 
doubt on the alleged date of ' Time, Real and Imaginary '. 

The second, ' An Inscription for a Seat,' &c. (p. 349), was first 
published in the Mormnrj Post, on October 21, 1800, Coleridge's 
twenty-eighth l.>irthday. It remains an open question whether 
it was written by Coleridge or by Wordsworth. Both were 
contributors to the Morning Post. Both wrote ' Inscriptions '. 
Both had a hand in making the 'seat'. Neither claimed or 
republished the poem. It favours or, rather, parodies the style 
and sentiments now of one and now of the other. 

The third, ' The Rash Conjurer ' (p. 399), must have been read 
by H. N. Coleridge, who included the last seven lines, the 
'Epilogue', in the first volume of Literary Bemains, published in 
1836. I presume that, even as a fantasia, the subject was 
regarded as too extravagant, and, it may be, too coarsely worded 
for publication. It was no doubt in the first instance a ' metrical 
experiment ', but it is to be interpreted alIegoricall5^ The ' Rash 
Conjurer ', the dme damme, is the adept in the black magic of 
metaphysics. But for that he might have been like his brothers, 
a * Devonshire Christian '. 

The fourth, ' The Madman and the Lethargist ' (p. 414), is an 
expansion of an epigram in the Greek Anthology. It is pos- 
sible that it was written in Germany in 1799, and is contem- 
porary with the epigrams published in the Morning Post in 
1802, for the Greek original is quoted by Lessing in a critical 
excursus on the nature of an epigram. 

The fifth, ' Faith, Hope, and Charity' (p. 427), was translated 
from the Italian of Guarini at Calne, in 1815. 

Of the sixth, ' The Delinquent Travellers ' (p. 443), I know 
nothing save that the MS., a first copy, is in Coleridge's hand- 
writing. It was probably written for and may have been 
published in a newspaper or periodical. It was certainly written 
at Highgate. 

Of the epigrams and jeux d'csprit eight are now published 
for the first time, and of the fragments from various sources 
twenty-seven have been added to those published in 1893. 

Of the first drafts and alternative versions of well-known poems 
thirteen are now printed for the first time. Two versions of 
' The Eolian Harp ', preserved in the Library of Rugby School, 
and the dramatic fragment entitled 'The Triumph of Loyalty', 
are of especial interest and importance. 


An exact reproduction of the text of the ' Ancyent Marinere' 
as printed in an early copy of the Lyrical Ballads of 1798 which 
belonged to S. T. Coleridge, and a collation of the text of 
the * Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie ', as published 
in the Morning Post, Dec. 21, 1799, with two MSS. preserved 
in the British Museum, are included in Appendix No. I. 

The text of the ' Allegoric Vision ' has been collated with 
the original MS. and with the texts of 1817 and 1829. 

A section has been devoted to ' Metrical Experiments ' ; 
eleven out of thirteen are now published for the first time. A 
few critical notes by Professor Saintsbury are, with his kind 
permission, appended to the text. 

Numerous poems and fragments of poems first saw the light 
in 1893 ; and now again, in 1912, a second batch of newly- 
discovered, forgotten, or purposely omitted MSS. has been 
collected for publication. It may reasonably be asked if the 
tale is told, or if any MSS. have been retained for publication 
at a future date. I cannot answer for fresh discoveries of poems 
already published in newspapers and periodicals, or of MSS. 
in private collections, but I can vouch for a final issue of all 
230ems and fragments of poems included in the collection of 
Notebooks and unassorted MSS. which belonged to Coleridge 
at his death and were bequeathed by him to his literary executor, 
Joseph Henry Green. Nothing remains which if published 
in days to come could leave the present issue incomplete. 

A bibliography of the successive editions of poems and dramas 
published by Coleridge himself and of the principal collected 
and selected editions which have been published since 1834 
follows the Appendices to this volume. The actual record is 
long and intricate, but the history of the gradual accretions may 
be summed up in a few sentences. ' The Fall of Robespierre ' 
was published in 1795. A first edition, entitled 'Poems on 
Various Subjects', was published in 1796. Second and third 
editions, with additions and subtractions, followed in 1797 and 
1803. Two poems, ' The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere ' and 
' The Nightingale, a Conversation Poem', and two extracts from 
an unpublished drama (' Osorio ') were included in the Lyrical 
Ballads of 1798. A quarto pamphlet containing three poems, 
* Fears in Solitude,' ' France : An Ode,' ' Frost at Midnight,' was 
issued in the same year. ' Love ' was first published in the second 
edition of the Lyrical Ballads, 1800. 'The Three Graves,' ' A 


Hymn l)efore Siiniis<', tSic.,' and ' Idoloclastes SatyruiU' \ weio 
includetl in the Friend (Sept.-Nov.. 1809). ' Chiistabel/ 'KuIjIu 
Khan,' and 'The Pains of Sleep' were published l»y them- 
selves in 1810. Sii>i/Uinc Leaves, which ui)ppured in 1817 and 
was described as ' A Collection of Poems ', included the contents 
of the editions of 1797 and 1803, the poems published in the 
Lyrical Ballads of 1798, 1800, and the quarto pamphlet of 1798. 
but excluded the contents of the first edition (except the * Eolian 
Harp '), ' Christabel ', ' Kubla Khan ', and ' The Pains of Sleep '. 
The first collected edition of the Poetical Worls (which included 
a selection of the poems published in the three first editions, 
a reissue of Sibylline Leaves, the ' Wanderings of Cain ', a few 
poems recently contributed to periodicals, and the following 
dramas — the translation of Schiller's ' Piccolomini', published 
in 1800, 'Remorse' — a revised version of ' Osorio ' — published 
in 1813, and 'Zapolya', published in 1817) was issued in three 
volumes in 1828. A second collected edition in three volumes, 
a reissue of 1828, with an amended text and the addition of 
'The Improvisatore ' and 'The Garden of Boccaccio', followed 
in 1829. 

Finally, in 1884, there was a reissue in three volumes of the 
contents of 1829 with numerous additional poems then published 
or collected for the first time. The first volume contained twenty- 
six juvenilia printed from letters and MS. copybooks which had 
been j^reserved by the poet's family, and the second volume 
some forty 'Miscellaneous Poems', extracted from the Note- 
books or reprinted from newspapers. The most important 
additions were 'Alice du Clos ', then first published from MS,, 
' The Knight's Tomb ' and the ' Epitaph '. ' Love, Hope, and 
Patience in Education '. which had appeared in the Lvcejjsal'e of 
1830, was printed on the last page of the third volume. 

After Coleridge's death the first attempt to gather uy) the 
fragments of his poetry was made by his ' latest editor " H. N. 
Coleridge in 183&. The first volume of LAterary Ucmains 
contains the first reprint of 'The Fall of Robespierre', some 
thirty-six poems collected from the Watchman, the 3Iorniny Post. 
&c., and a selection of fragments then first printed from a MS. 
Notebook, now known as ' the Gutch Memorandum Book '. 

H. N. Coleridge died in 1843, and in 1844 his widow pre- 
pared a one-volume edition of the Poems, which was published 
by Pickerinp. Eleven juvenilia which had first appeared in 


1834 were omitted and the poems first, collected in Literary 
Remains were for the first time included in the text. In 1850 
Mrs. H. N. Coleridge included in the third volume of the 
Essays on His Own Times six poems and numerous epigrams 
and jeux d'esprit which had appeared in the Morning Post and 
Courier. This was the first reprint of the Epigrams as a whole. 
A ' new edition ' of the Poems which she had prei3ared in the 
last year of her life was published immediately after her death 
(May, 1852) by Edward Moxon. It was based on the one-volume 
edition of 1844, with unimportant omissions and additions ; 
only one poem, ' The Hymn ', was published for the first time 
from MS. 

In the same year (1852) the Dramatic Works (not including 
' The Fall of Kobespierre '), edited by Derwent Coleridge, were 
published in a separate volume. 

In 1863 and 1870 the ' new edition ' of 1852 was reissued by 
Derwent Coleridge with an appendix containing thirteen poems 
collected for the first time in 1863. The reissue of 1870 con- 
tained a reprint of the first edition of the * Ancient Mariner '. 

The first edition of the Poetical Works, based on all previous 
editions, and including the contents of Literary Eemains (vol. i) 
and of Essays on His Own Timea (vol. iii), was issued by Basil 
Montagu Pickering in four volumes in 1877. Many poems 
(including * Remorse ') were collated for the first time with the 
text of previous editions and newspaper versions by the editor, 
Richard Heme Shepherd. The four volumes (with a Supple- 
ment to vol. ii) were reissued by Messrs. Macmillan in 1880. 

Finally, in the one-volume edition of the Poetical Worlds 
issued by Messrs. Macmillan in 1893, J. D. Campbell included 
in the text some twenty poems and in the Appendix a large 
number of poetical fragments and first drafts then printed for 
the first time from MS. 

The frontispiece of this edition is a photogravure by Mr. 
Emery Walker, from a pencil sketch (ciVc. 1818) by C. R. Leslie, 
R.A., in the possession of the Editor. An engraving of the 
sketch, by Henry Meyer, is dated April, 1819. 

The vignette on the title-page is taken from the impression of 
a seal, stamped on the fly-leaf of one of Coleridge's Notebooks. 

I desire to express my thanks to my kinsman Lord Coleridge 


for opportunity kindly afforded me of collating the text of the 
fragments first published in 1893 with the original MSS. in his 
possession, and of making further extracts; to Mr. Gordon 
Wordsworth for permitting me to print a first draft of the 
poem addressed to his ancestor on the * Growth of an Individual 
Mind ' ; and to Miss Arnold of Fox IIow for a copy of the first 
draft of the lines ' On Kevisiting the Sea-shore '. 

I have also to acknowledge the kindness and courtesy of the 
Authorities of Rugby School, who permitted me to inspect and 
to make use of an annotated copy of Coleridp;e's translation of 
Schiller's * Piccolomini ', and to publish first drafts of ' The 
Eolian Harp ' and other poems which had formerly belonged to 
Joseph Cottle and were presented by Mr. Shadworth Hodgson 
to the School Library. 

I am indebted to my friend Mr. Thomas Hutchinson for 
valuable information with regard to the authorship of some of 
the fragments, and for advice and assistance in settling the text 
of the ' Metrical Experiments' and other points of difficulty. 

I have acknowledged in a prefatory note to the epigrams my 
obligation to Dr. Hermann Georg Fiedler, Taylorian Professor 
of the German Language and Literature at Oxford, in respect 
of his verifications of the German originals of many of the 
epigrams published by Coleridge in the Morning Post and 

Mr. William Heinemann is the holder of the copyright of 
poems published for the first time in Mr. Dykes CauipbeH's 
edition of S. T. Coleridge's Poetical Works (London, 1893), and 
now republished ; and, with but few exceptions, of poems and 
fragments of poems here published for the first time. 

Lastly, I wish to thank Mr. H. S. Milford for the invaluable 
assistance which he afforded me in revising my collation 
of the ' Songs of the Pixies " and the ' Introduction to the Tale 
of the Dark Ladie ', and some of the earlier poems, and the 
Reader of the Oxford University Press for numerous hints and 
suggestions, and for the infinite care which he has bestowed 
on the correction of slips of my own or errors of the press. 

1912 Ernest Hartley Coleridge. 




Preface iii 


Easter Holidays. [MS. Letter, May 12, 1787.] 1 

Dura Navis. [B.M. Add. MSS. 34,225] 2 

Nil Pejus est Caelibe Vita. [Boyer's Liber Aureus.'] .... 4 


Sonnet : To the Autumnal Moon 5 


Anthem for the Children of Christ's Hospital. [MS. 0.] . . 5 

Julia, [Boyer's Liher Aureus.] 6 

Quae Nocent Docent. {^ojer's, Liber Aureus.'] 7 

The Nose. [MS. O.] 8 

To the Muse. [MS. O.] 9 

Destruction of the Bastile. [MS. 0.] 10 

Life. [MS. O.] 11 


Progress of Vice. [MS. 0. : Boyer's Liber Aureiis.] . . . . 12 
Monody on the Death of Chatterton. (First version.) [MS. O. : Boyer's 

Liber Aureus.] ......... 18 

An Invocation. [J. D. C] 10 

Anna and Harland. [MS. J. D. C] l(i 

To the Evening Star. [MS. 0.] 16 

Pain. [MS. 0.] 17 

On a Lady Weeping. [MS. 0. (c).] 17 

Monody on a Tea-kettle. [MSS. 0., S. T. C.j 18 

Genevieve. [MSS. 0., E.] 19 


On receiving an Account that his Only Sister's Death was In- 
evitable. [MS. 0.] 20 

On seeing a Youth Affectionately Welcomed by a Sister . . 21 

A Mathematical Problem. [MS. Leiter, March 31, 1791 : MS. 0. (c).] 21 

Honour. [MS. 0.] 24 

On Imitation. [MS. 0.] 26 

Inside the Coach. [MS. 0.] 26 

Devonshire Roads. [MS. 0.] 27 

Music. [MS. 0.] 28 

Sonnet : On quitting School for College. [MS. 0.] . . . 29 
Absence. A Farewell Ode on quitting School for Jesus College, 

Cambridge. [MS. E.] 29 

Happiness. [MS. Letter, June 22. 1791 : MS. 0. (c).] 30 




A Wisli. Written in Je^u.s Wood, F»-h. lo, 17'»l'. [MS. i.oicr, 

Feb 13, [1792].] 33 

An Ode in tlie Manner of Anjicrcon. [MS. Lctior, Feb. 13, [1792].] . 33 

To Disappointment. [MS. Letter, Feb. 18, [1792].] .... 34 
A Frapment found in a Lecture-room. [MS. Letter, April [1792], 

MS. E.] .35 

Ode. ('Ye Gales.' &c.) [MS. E.] 35 

A Lover's Complaint to his Mistress. [MS. Letter, Feb. 13, [1792].] 30 

With Fielding's ' Amelia.' [MS. 0.] 37 

Written after a Walk before Supper. [MS. Letter, Aug. 9, [1792].] . 37 


Imitated from Ossian. [MS. E.] 3S 

The Complaint of Ninath6nia. [MS. Ldtcr, Feb. 7, 1793.] . . 39 

Songs of the Pixies. [MS. 4" : MS. E.] 40 

The Rose. [MS. le^^er, July 28, 1793: MS. {pencil) in Langhorne's 

CoUins: MS. E.] . . . 45 

Kisses. [MS. Letter, Aug. 5, 1793 : MS. (j)encil) in Langhoriie's CoUins : 

MS. E.] 46 

The Gentle Look. [MS. Letter, Dec. 11. 1794 : MS. E.J ... 47 

Sonnet : To the River Otter 48 

An Effusion at Evening. Written in August 1792. (First Draft.) 

[MS. E.] 49 

Lines : On an Autumnal Evening 51 

To Fortune 54 


Perspiration. A Travelling Eclogue. [MS. Letter, July 6, 1794.] . 5« 
[Ave, atque Vale!] (' Vivit sed milii,' &c.) [MS. Letter, July 13, 

[1794].] " . 56 

On Bala Hill. [Morrison MSS.] 56 

Lines : Written at the King's Arms, Ross, formerly the House of the 

'Man of Ross'. [MS. Letter, July 13, 1794: MS. E: Morrison 

MSS : MS. 4°.] 57 

Imitated from the Welsh. [MS. Letter, Dec. 11, 1794 : MS. E.] . 58 

Lines : To a Beautiful Spring in a Village. [MS. E.] . . . 58 

Imitations: Ad Lyram. (Casimir, Book II, Ode 3.) [MS. E.] . 59 

To Lesbia. [Add. MSS. 27,702] 60 

The Death of the Starling, [ibid.'^ 61 

Moriens Superstiti. [ibid.] 61 

Morienti Superstes. [ibid.] 62 

The Sigh. [MS. Letter, Nov. 1794 : Morrison MSS : MS. E.] . . 62 

The Kiss. [MS. 4° : MS. E.] 63 

To a Young Lady with a Poem on the French Revolution. [MS. 

ie«er, Oct. 21, 1794: MS. 4": MS. E.] 64 

Ti-anslation of Wrangham's 'Hendecasyllabi adBruntonam e Granta 

Exituram ' [Kal. Oct. MDCCXC] 66 

To Miss Brunton with the preceding Translation .... 67 

Epitaph on an Infant. ('Ere Sin could blight.') [MS. E.J . . 68 

Pantisocracy. [MSS. Letters, Sept. 18, Oct. 19, 1791 : MS. E.] . . 68 

On the Prospect of establishing a Pantisocracy in America . . <')9 
Elegy : Imitated from one of Akcnside';, Blank-verse Inscriptions. 

[(No.) IIL] .... 69 



The Faded Flower 70 

The Outcast 71 

Domestic Peace. (From 'The Fall of Robespierre,' Act I, 1. 210.) . 71 

On a Discovery made too late. [MS. Letter, Oct. 21, 1794.] . . 72 

To the Author of < The Robbers ' 72 

Melancholy. A Fragment. [MS. Letter, Aug. 26, 1802.] ... 73 
To a Young Ass : Its Mother being tethered near it. [MS. Oct. 24, 

1794 : MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794.] 74 

Lines on a Friend who Died of a Frenzy Fever induced by 

Calumnious Reports. [MS. Letter, Nov. 6. 1794 : MS. 4": MS. E.] 76 
To a Friend [Charles Lamb] together with an Unfinished Poem. [MS. 

Letter, Dec. 1794] 78 

Sonnets on Eminent Characters : Contributed to the Morning 
Chronicle, in Dec. 1794 and Jan. 1795 : — 

I. To the Honourable Mr. Erskine 79 

IL Burke. [MS. Letter, Dec. 11, 1794.] 80 

III. Priestley. [MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794.] .... 81 

IV. La Fayette 82 

V. Koskiusko. [MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794) .... 82 

VI. Pitt 83 

VII. To the Rev. W. L. Bowles. (First Version, printed in 

Morning Chronicle, Dec. 26, 1794.) [MS. Letter, Dec. 11, 1794.] 84 

(Second Version.) ........ 85 

VIII. Mrs. Siddons 85 


IX, To William Godwin, Author of ' Political Justice.' [Lines 

9-14. MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794.] 86 

X. To Robert Southey of Baliol College, Oxford, Author of the 

'■ Retrospect ' and other Poems. [MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794.] 87 
XL To Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq. [MS. Letter, Dec. 9, 

1794 : MS. E.] 87 

XII. To Lord Stanhope on reading his Late Protest in the 

House of Lords. [Morning Chronicle, J 2iX\. ^l, 11 ^b.^ . . 89 

To Earl Stanhope 89 

Lines : To a Friend in Answer to a Melancholy Letter ... 90 

To an Infant. [MS. E.] 91 

To the Rev. W. J. Hort while teaching a Young Lady some Song- 
tunes on his Flute ......... 92 

Pity. [MS. E.] 93 

To the Nightingale 93 

Lines: Composed while climbing the Left Ascent of Brockley Coomb, 

Somersetshire, May 1795 94 

Lines in the Manner of Spenser 94 

The Hour when we shall meet again. {Composed during Illness and 

171 Absence.) . 96 

Lines written at Shurton Bars, near Bridgewater, September 1795, 

in Answer to a Letter from Bristol 96 

The Eolian Harp. Composed at Clevedon, Somersetshire. [MS. R.] 100 
To the Author of Poems [Joseph Cottle] published anonymously 

at Bristol in September 1795 102 

The Silver Thimble. The Production of a Young Lady, addressed 



tu thf Author of the Puoins nlludt-il ti» in thi' preceding Epistlt-. 

[MS. K.] 101 

Keflections on having loft a Place of Retirement .... 106 

Religious Musings. [1794-171)6.] 108 

Monody on the Death of Chatterton. [1790-1834.] . . . . 125 


The Destiny of Nations. A Vision 1.31 

Ver Perpetuum. Fragment from an Unpublished Poem . 148 

On observing a Blossom on the First of February 1796 . . 148 
To a Primrose. The First seen in the Season . . . . .149 
Verses : Addressed to J. Home Tooke and the Company who m«.t 

on June 28, 1796, to celebrate his Poll at the Westminster 

Election 150 

On a Late Connubial Rupture in High Life [Prince and Princess 

of Wales]. [MS Ze«er, July 4, 1796] 152 

Sonnet : On receiving a Letter informing me of the Birth of a Son. 

[MS. Letter, Nov. 1, 1796.] 152 

Sonnet: Composed on a Journey Homeward; the Author having 

received Intelligence of the Birth of a Son, Sept. 20, 1796. 

[MS. Letter, Nov. 1, 1796.] 153 

Sonnet : To a Friend who asked how I felt when the Nurse first 

presented my Infant to me. [MS. Letter, Nov. 1, 1796] . . 154 

Sonnet : [To Charles Lloyd] 155 

To a Young Friend on his proposing to domesticate with the Author. 

Composed in 1796 155 

Addressed to a Young Man of Fortune [C. Lloyd] .... 157 
To a Friend [Charles Lamb] who had declared his intention of 

writing no more Poetry ........ 158 

Ode to the Departing Year ........ 160 


The Raven. [MS. S. T. C] 169 

To an Unfortunate Woman at the Theatre 171 

To an Unfortunate Woman whom the Author had known in the 

days of her Innocence ........ 172 

To the Rev. George Coleridge 173 

On the Christening of a Friend's Child 176 

Translation of a Latin Inscription by the Rev. W. L. Bowles in 

Nether-Stowey Church ........ 177 

This Lime-tree Bower my Prison ....... 178 

The Foster-mother's Tale 182 

The Dungeon 185 

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 186 

Sonnets attempted in the Manner of Contemporary Writers . . 209 

Parliamentary Oscillators 211 

Christabel. [For MSS. vide p. 214] 213 

Lines to W. L. while he sang a Song to Purcell's Music . . . 236 


Fire, Famine, and Slaughter 237 

Frost at Midnight 240 

France : An Ode 243 

The Old Man of the Alps 248 




To a Young Lady on her Recovery from a Fever .... 252 

Lewti, or the Circassian Love-chainit. [For MSS. vide pp. 1049-52] 253 

Fears in Solitude. [MS. W.] 256 

The Nightingale. A Conversation Poem ...... 264 

The Three Graves. [Parts I, II. MS. S. T. C] . . . 267 

The Wanderings of Cain. [MS. S. T. C] 285 

To 292 

The Ballad of the Dark Ladie 293 

KublaKhan 295 

Recantation : Illustrated in the Story of the Mad Ox . . . 299 


Hexameters. (William my teacher,' &c,) 304 

Translation of a Passage in Ottfried's Metrical Paraphrase of the 

Gospel 306 

Catullian Hendecasyllables ........ 307 

The Homeric Hexameter described and exemplified . . . 307 

The Ovidian Elegiac Metre described and exemplified . . . 308 

On a Cataract. [MS. S. T. C] 308 

Tell's Birth-Place 309 

The Visit of the Gods 310 

From the German. (' Know'st thou the land,' &c.) .... 311 

Water Ballad. [From the French.] 311 

On an Infant which died before Baptism. ('Be rather,' &c.) [MS. 

Letter, Apr. 8, 1799] 312 

Something Childish, but very Natural. Written in Germany. 

[MS. Letter, April 28, 1799.] 313 

Home-Sick. Written in Germany. [MS. Letter, May 6, 1799.] . 314 
Lines written in the Album at Elbingerode in the Hartz Forest. 

[MS. Letter, May 17, 1799.] 315 

The British Stripling's War-Song. [Add. MSS. 27,902] . . .317 

Names. [From Lessing.] ......... 318 

The Devil's Thoughts. [MS. copy by Derwent Coleridge.] . . 319 

Lines composed in a Concert-room ....... 324 

Westphalian Song 326 

Hexameters. Paraphrase of Psalm xlvi. [MS. ie«er, Sept. 29, 1799.] 326 
Hymn to the Earth. [Imitated from Stolberg's Hymne cm die 

Erde.l Hexameters 327 

Mahomet 329 

Love. [British Museum Add. MSS. No. 27,902 : Wordsworth and 

Coleridge MSS.] 330 

Ode to Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, on the Twenty-fourth 

Stanza in her ' Passage over Mount Gothard ' . . . . 335 

A Christmas Carol 338 


Talleyrand to Lord Grenville. A Metrical Epistle .... 340 
Apologia pro Vita sua. ('The poet in his lone,' &c.) [MS. 

Notebook.] 345 

The Keepsake 345 

A Thought suggested by a View of Saddleback in Cumberland. 

[MS. Notebook.] 347 

The Mad Monk 347 



Inscription for a Se;it l)y tlif HuhcI Side half-way up a Stui|t Hill 
facing Soutli .......... 

A Stranger Minstrel .......... 

Alcaeus to Sappho. [MS. Letfer, Oct. 7, 1800.] 

The Two Round Spaces c^n the Tombstone. [MS. Letter, Oct. 9, 1800 : 
Add. MSS. 28,322) 

The Suow-drop. [MS. S.T. C] 

84 1> 



1801 : MS. A. 


On Revisiting the Sea-sliore. [MS. Letter, A\\<i.. 

Ode to Tranquillity 

To Asra. [MS. (of Christabel) S. T. C. (c).] 

The Second Birth. [MS. Notebook.*] 362 

Love's Sanctuary. [MS. Notebook.] 862 

Dejection : An Ode. [Written April 4, 1802.] [MS. Letter, July 19, 

1802: Coleorton MSS.] 362 

The Picture, or the Lover's Resolution ...... 369 

To Matilda Betham from a Stranger ...... 374 

Hymn before Sun-rise, in the Valeof Chamouni. [MS. A. (1803): MS. 

B. (1809) : MS. C. (1815).] 376 

The Good, Great Man 381 

Inscription for a Fountain on a Heath ...... 381 

An Ode to the Rain 382 

A Day-dream. (' My eyes make pictures,' &c.) 385 

Answer to a Child's Question 386 

The Day-dream. From an Emigrant to his Absent Wife . . . 386 

The Happy Husband. A Fragment 388 


The Pains of Sleep. [MS. Letters, Sept. 11, Oct 3, 1808.] 

The Excliange 891 


Ad VilmumAxiologum. [To William Wordsworth.] [MS. Notebook.] 

An Exile. [MS. Notebook] .... 

Sonnet. [Translated from Marini ] [MS. Notebook. 

Phantom. [MS. Notebook.] 

A Sunset. [MS. Notebook.] 

What is Life"? [MS. Notebook.] 

The Blossoming of the Solitary Date-tree 

Separation. [MS. Notebook.] 

The Rash Conjurer. [MS. Notebook.] 

A Child's Evening Prayer. [MS. Mrs. S.T. C] . 
Metrical Feet. Lesson for a Boy. [Lines 1-7, MS. Notebook. 

Farewell to Love 

To William Wordsworth. [Coleorton MS : MS. W.] . 
An Angel Visitant. [? 1801.] [MS. Notebook.] 




1807 PAGE 

Recollections of Love. [MS. Notebook.] 409 

To Two Sisters [Mary Morgan and Charlotte Brent] . . . 410 

Psyche. [MS. S. T. C] . . . . . . . .412 


A Tombless Epitaph 413 

For a Market-clock. (Impromptu.) [MS. ie«er, Oct. 9, 1809 : MS. 

Notebook.] 414 

The Madman and the Lethargist. [MS. Notebook.] . . . 414 


The Visionary Hope 416 


Epitaph on an Infant. ('Its balmy lips,' &c.: 417 

The Virgin's Cradle-hymn 417 

To a Lady offended by a Sportive Observation that Women have no 

Souls 418 

Reason for Love's Blindness 418 

The Suicide's Argument. [MS. Notebook.] 419 


Time, Real and Imaginary 419 

An Invocation. From Remorse [Act III, Scene i, 11. 69-82] . 420 


The Night-scene. [Add. MSS. 34,225] 421 


A Hymn 423 

To a Lady, with Falconer's Shipwreck ...... 424 


Human Life. On the Denial of Immortality ..... 425 

Song. From Zapolya (Act II, Sc. i, 11. 65-80) 426 

Hunting Song. From Zapolya (Act IV, Se. ii, 11. 56-71) . . .427 

Faith, Hope, and Charity. From the Italian of Guarini . . 427 

To Nature [? 1820] 429 


Limbo. [MS. Notebook : MS. S. T. C] 429 

Ne Plus Ultra [? 1826]. [MS. Notebook.] 431 

The Knight's Tomb 432 

On Donne's Poetry [? 1818] 433 

Israel's Lament 433 

Fancy in Nubibus, or the Poet in the Clouds. [MS. S. T. C] . . 435 


The Tears of a Grateful People 436 

Youth and Age. [MS. S. T. C : MSS. (1, 2) Notebook.] . . .439 

The Reproof and Reply 441 


First Advent of Love. [MS. Notebook.] 443 

The Delinquent Travellers 443 




Work without Hop*-. Lines composed 21st Febiuaiy, 1825 
Sancti Poniinici Pallium. A Dinlogue lietween Poet anrl Fi 

[MS. S. T. C] 

Song. ('Though veiled,' &c.) [MS. Notebook.] 

A Character. [Add. MSS. 84,225] . 

The Two Founts. [MS. S. T. C] 

Constancy to an Ideal Object 

The Pang more Sharp tlian All. An Allegory 

4 17 



Duty surviving Self-love. The only sure Friend of declining Life. 
Homeless ............ 

Lines suggested by the last Words of Berengarius ; ob. Anno Doni. 


Epitaphium Testamentarium ........ 

*'E/)(yy del KaKijOpos (Tcupos ......... 


The Improvisatore ; or, 'John Anderson, My Jo. John ' . 
To Mary Pridham [afterwards Mrs. Derwent Coleridge]. [MS. 
S. T. C] 

Alice du Clos ; or, Tlie Forked Tongue. A Ballad. [MS. S. T. C] . 
Love's Burial-place .......... 

liines : To a Comic Author, on an Abusive Review , ? 1825]. [Add. 

MSS. 34,225] ^ . . . 

Cologne ............ 

On my Joyful Departiire from the same City ..... 

The Garden of Boccaccio 










Love, Hope, and Patience in Education. [MS. Lcttei; July 1, 1829: 
MS. S. T. C] " 

To Miss A. T 

Lines written in Commoni)lace Book of Miss Barbour, Daughter of 
the Minister of the U. S. A. to England 

Song, ex improviso, on hearing a Song in praise of a Lady's Beauty 
Love and Friendship Opposite . 

Not at Home 

Phantom or Fact. A Dialogue in Verse 
Desire. [MS. S. T. C] ... 

Charity in Thought .... 
Humility the Mother of Charity 
[Coeli Enarrant.l [MS. S. T. C] 
Reason ...... 










1833 PAGE 

Love's Apparition and Evanishment ...... 488 

To the Young Artist Kayser of Kaservverth 490 

My Baptismal Birth-day 490 

Epitaph. [For six MS. versions vide Note, p. 491]. .... 491 
EuD OF THE Poems 



The Fall of Robespierre. An Historic Drama .... 495 

OsoRio. A Tragedy . . . . . . . . . .518 

The Piccolomini ; or, The First Part of Wallenstein. A Drama 
translated from the German of Schiller. 

Preface to the First Edition 598 

The Piccolomini 600 

The Death of Wallenstein. A Tragedy in Five Acts. 

Preface of the Translator to the First Edition .... 724 

The Death of Wallenstein . ....... 726 

Remorse. 1812 

Preface 812 

Prologue 816 

Epilogue 817 

Remorse. A Tragedy in Five Acts . . . . . .819 

Zapolya. a Christmas Tale in Two Parts. 

Advertisement . 883 

Part I. The Prelude, entitled ' The Usurper's Fortune ' . .884 
Part II. The Sequel, entitled ' The Usurper's Fate ' . . .901 

Epigrams 951 

An Apology for Spencers 951 

On a Late Marriage between an Old Maid and French Petit Maitre 952 

On an Amorous Doctor . 952 

' Of smart pi-etty Fellows,' t&c. . 952 

On Deputy 953 

'To be ruled like a Frenchman,' &c. .... . 953 

On Mr. Ross, usually Cognominated Nosy 953 

* Bob now resolves,' &c. . 953 

' Say what you will. Ingenious Youth ' 954 

'If the guilt of all lying,' &c 954 

On an Insignificant 954 

' There comes from old Avaro's grave ' 954 

On a Slanderer . 955 

Lines in a German Student's Album 955 

[Hippona] 955 

On a Reader of His Own Verses 955 




On a Rtpoit of a Minhtor's Death . 

[Dear Brother Jem J 

Job's Luck ..... 

On the Sicknes.s (»f a Great Minister 

[To a Virtuous Oeconomistl . 

[L'P]nfant Prodigue] 

On Sir Rubicund Nas<> . 

To Mr. Pye 

[Ninety-Eight] .... 
Occasioned by the Former 
[A Liar by Profession] . 
To a Proud Parent 


On a Volunteer Singer . 

Occasioned by the Last . 

Epitapli on Major Dicman 

On the Above .... 

Epitaph on a Bad Man (Three Versions^ 

To a Certain Modern Narcissus 

To a Critic 

Always Audible .... 

Pondere non Numero 

The Compliment Qualified 

'What is an Epigram,' &c. . 

* Charles, grave or merry,' &c. 

'An evil spirit's on thee, friend,' &c. 

' Here lies the Devil,' &c. 

To One W^ho Published in Print, &c. 

'Scarce any scandal,' &c. 

'Old Harpy,' &c. . . 

To a Vain Young Lady . 

A Hint to Premiers and First Consuls 

'From me, Aurelia,' &c. 

For a House-Dog's Collar 

' In vain I praise thee, Zoilus ' 

Epitaph on a Mercenary Miser 

A Dialogue between an Author and his Friend 

Mojpoaoipia, or Wisdom in Folly 

' Each Bond-street buck,' &c. 

From an Old Cxerman Poet . 

On the Curious Circumstance, That in the Ge 

Spots in the Sun .... 

'When Surface talks,' &c. 

To my Candle .... 

Epitaph on Himself 

The Taste of the Times . 

On Pitt and Fox 

'An excellent adage,' &c. 

Comparative Brevity of Greek and English 

On the Secrecy of a Certain Lady . 

Motto for a Transparency, &c. (Two Versions) 

' Money, I've heard,' kv. .... 



Modern Critics 972 

Written in an Album 972 

To a Lady who requested me to Write a Poem upon Nothing . 973 

Sentimental 973 

'So Mr. Baker,' &e 973 

Authors and Publishers 973 

The Alternative 974 

'In Spain, that land,' &c 974 

Inscription for a Time-piece ....... 974 

On the Most Veracious Anecdotist, &c. ..... 974 

' Nothing speaks our mind,' &c. ....... 975 

Epitaph of the Present Year on the Monument of Thomas Fuller 975 

Jeux d'Esprit 976 

My Godmother's Beard 976 

Lines to Thomas Poole 976 

To a Well-known Musical Critic, &c 977 

To T. Poole : An Invitation 978 

Song, To be Sung by the Lovers of all the noble liquors, &c. . 978 

Drinking versus Thinking 979 

The Wills of the Wisp 979 

To Captain Findlay 980 

On Donne's Poem 'To a Flea' 980 

[Ex Libris S. T. C] 981 

ErnENKAinAN 981 

The Bridge Street Committee 982 

Nonsense Sapphics 983 

To Susan Steele, &c 984 

Association of Ideas ... ..... 984 

Verses Trivocular 985 

Cholera Cured Before-hand . 985 

To Baby Bates 987 

To a Child 987 

Fragments from a Notebook, {circa 1796-1798) .... 988 

Fragments. {For unnamed Fragments see Index of First Lines.) . 996 

Over my Cottage 997 

[The Night-Mare Death in Life] 998 

A Beck in Winter 998 

[Not a Critic— But a Judge] . 1000 

[De Profundis Clamavi] . lOOl 

Fragment of an Ode on Napoleon ....... 1003 

Epigram on Kepler ......... 1004 

[Ars Poetica] 1006 

Translation of the First Strophe of Pindar's Second Olympic . 1006 

Translation of a Fragment of Heraclitus 1007 

Imitated from Aristophanes 1008 

To Edward Irving 1008 

[Luther— De D^monibus] . . ..... 1009 

The Netherlands 1009 

Elisa : Translated from Claudian 1009 

Profuse Kindness 1010 

Napoleon 1010 




The Three Sorts of Friends 1012 

Bo-Peep and 1 Spy— 1012 

A Simile lOUi 

Baron Quelph of Adelstan. A Fragment ..... 1013 

Metrical Experiments .1014 

An Exporinu^nt for a Metre , • I heard a Voice,' &»•.; . 1014 

Trochaica ........... 1015 

The Proper Unmodified Dochmius .... 1015 

lainbicb 1015 

Nonsense (^' Sing, impasisionate Soul/ &c.} ..... 1015 

A Plaintive Movement . . ". . . . . 101 G 

An Experiment for a Metre ('When tliy Beauty appears') . . 1016 

Nonsense Verses (' Yo fowls of ill presage ') . .... 1017 

Nonsense (' I wish on earth to sing ') ...... 1017 

' There in some darksome shade ' . . . . 1018 

* Once again, sweet Willow, wave thee ' ..... 1018 

' Songs of Shepherds, and rustical Roundelays ' .... 1018 

A Metrical Accident ......... 1019 

Notes by Professor Saintsbury ...,,.. 1019 


First Drafts, Early Versions, etc. 

A. Effusion 35, August 20th, 1795. (First Draft.) [MS. R.] 

Effusion, p. 96 [1797]. (Second Draft.) [MS. R.] . 

B. Recollection ......... 

C. The Destiny of Nations. (Draft I.) [Add. MSS. 34,225] 

„ „ (Draft II.) [ibid.] 

,, „ ,, (Draft III.) [ibid.] 

D. Passages in Southey's Joa7i of Arc (First Edition, 1796 

tributed by S. T. Coleridge 

E. The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere [1798] 

F. The Raven. [M. P. March 10, 1798.] . . 

G. Lewti ; or, The Circassian's Love-Chant. (1.) [B. M. Add. MSS 


The Circassian's Love-Chaunt. (2.) [Add. MSS. 85,343.] . 
Lewti ; or. The Circassian's Love-Chant. (3.) [Add. MSS 


n. Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie. [M. P. Dec. 21 


1. The Triumph of Loyalty. An Historic Drama, [Add. MSS 


J. Chamouny ; The Hour before Sunrise. A Hymn. [M. P. Sept. 11 


K. Dejection : An Ode. [M. P. Oct. 4, 1802.] .... 
L. To W. Wordsworth. January 1807 .... 

M. Youth and Age. (MS. I, Sept. 10, 1823.) .... 

(MS. IL 1.) 

(MS. II. 2.) 










N. Love's Apparition and E vanishment. (First Draft.) . 
O. Two Versions of the Epitaph. (' Stop, Christian,' &c.) 
P. [Habent sua Fata— Poetae.1 (' The Fox, nnd Statesman,' &c, 

Q. To Jolm Thelwall 

F. [Lines to T. Poole.] [1807.1 ■ • 




Allegoric Vision 


Apologetic Preface to 'Fire, Famine, and Si.AUGHTEr 


Prose Versions of Poems, etc. 

A. Questions and Answers in the Court of Love 

B. Prose Version of Glycine's Song in Zapolya 

C. Work w^ithout Hope. (First Draft.) 

D. Note to Line 34 of the Joa7i of Arc Book II. [4° 1796.; 

E. Dedication. Ode on the Departing Year. [4° 1796.] 

F. Preface to the MS. of Osorin 




From Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke : 

God and the World we worshii* still togellier .... 1115 

The -4t^wrs we of all the world admir'd ..... 1116 

Of Humane Learning ........ 1116 

Fi'om Sir John Davies : On the Immortality of the Soul . 1116 

From Donne : Eclogue. ' On Unworthy Wisdom ' .... 1117 

Letter to Sir Henry Goodyere .1117 

From Ben Jonson : A Nymph's Pas^sion (Mutual Passion) . . 1118 

Underwoods, No. VI. The Hour-glass 1119 

The Poetaster, Act I, Scene i 1120 

From Samuel Daniel : Epistle to Sir Thomas Egerton, Knight . 1120 

Musophilus, Stanza cxlvii 1121 

Musophilus, Stanzas xxvii, XXIX, XXX ..... 1122 
From Christopher Harvey : The Synagogue (The Nativity, or 

Christmas Day.) 1122 

From Mark Akenside : Blank Verse Inscriptions . . 1123 

From W. L. Bowles : — 'I yet remain' ..... 1124 
From an old Play : Napoleon . . . . . .1124 



Originals of Than5.i-ations 

F. von Matthison : Eiu uiilesisches MUlircheii, Adonide . 
Schiller : Schwindelnd tillgt or dioli fort auf rastloa str/imenden 
Wugen ........ 

Im Hexameter steigt des Springqutll's Hiissige Sttule 
Stolberg : Unsterldiclier Jiingling I .... 

Seht dieso heilige Kapell ! ..... 

Schiller: Niimiier, das glaubt mir ..... 
Goethe : Kennst du das Land, wo die Citronen bliilin . 
Fran9ois-Antoine-Eugi^ne de Planard : * Batelier, dit Lisette 
German Folk Song: Wenn ich ein Voglein w'Av 
Stolberg; Mein Arm wird stark und gross mcin Muth . 

Lessing : Icli fragte meine Schdne 

Stolberg : Erde, du Mutter zahlloser Kinder, Mutter und Amme 
Friederike Brun : Aus tiefem Schatten des schweigendon Tannen 

hains .... 

<Tiambattista Marino: Donna, siam rei di morte. Errasti, errai 
MS. Notebook : In diesem Wald, in diesen Griinden 
Anthologia Graeca : Koivfj nap KXiairj K-qOapyiKus rjbi <pp(vov\T)^ . 
Battista Guarini : Canti terreni amori ..... 
Stolberg : Der blinde Sanger stand am Meer .... 



1 1 25 
1 1 2(; 





No. I. Poems first published in Newspapers or Periodicals . 1178 
No. II. Epigrams and Jeux d'Esprit first published in Newspapers 

and Periodicals . 1182 

No. III. Poems included in Anthologies and other Works . . 1183 
No. IV. Poems first printed or reprinted in Literary Remains, 

1836, &c 1187 

Poems first printed or reprinted in Essays on His Own Times, 1850 , 1188 




MS. B. M. = MS. preserved in the British Museum. 

MS. 0. = MS. Ottery : i. e. a collection of juvenile poems in the 
handwriting of S. T. Coleridge {circ. 1793). 
MS. O. (c.) = MS. Ottery, No. 3 : a transcript (circ. 1823) of a collection 
of juvenile poems, by S. T. Coleridge. 
MS. S. T. C. = A single MS. poem in the handwriting of S. T. Coleridge. 
MS. E. = MS. Estlin : i. e. a collection of juvenile poems in the hand- 
writing of S. T.Coleridge presented to Mrs. Estlin of Bristol 
circ. 1795. 
MS. 4° = A collection of early poems in the handwriting of S. T. 

Coleridge {circ. 1796). 
MS. W. = An MS. in the handwriting of S. T. Coleridge, now in the 

possession of Mr. Gordon Wordsworth. 
MS. K. = MS. Rugby : i.e. in the possession of the Governors of 
Rugby School. 
An. Anth. = Annual Anthology of 1800. 
B. L. = Biographia Literaria. 
C. I. = Cambridge J ntelligencer, 

E. M. = English Minstrelsy. 

F. F. = Felix Farley's Bristol Journal, 1818. 
F. 0. = Friendship's Offering, 1834. 

L. A. = Liber Aureus. 
L. B. = Lyrical Ballads. 
L. R. = Literary Remains. 
M. C. = Morning Chronicle. 
M. M. — Monthly Magasine. 
M. P. = Morning Post. 
P. R. = Poetical Register, 1802. 
P. & B. W. = Poetical and Dramatic Works. 
P. W. ^ Poetical Works. 
S. L. = Sibylline Leaves (1817). 
S. S, = Selection of Sonnets. 


On p. 16, n. 2, line 1,/or Oct. 15, nad Oct. 25. 

On p. 68, line 6. for 1795 rend 1794, and n. 1, line 1,/or September 

24, read September 23. 
On p. 69, lines 11 and 28, for 1795 read 1794. 
On p. 96, n. 1, line 1,/or March 9, read March 17. 
On p. 148, n. 1, line 2, /or Marcli 28, read March 25. 
On p. 3U, line 17, for May 26 reat? May 6. 
On p. 1179, line 7, for Sept. 27. read Sept. 23. 
On p. 1181, line SS,for Oct. 9 read O.-t. 29. 




Verse 1st 
Hail ! festal Easter that dost bring 
Approach of sweetly- smiling spring, 

When Nature 's clad in green : 
When feather'd songsters through the grove 
With beasts confess the power of love 5 

And brighten all the scene. 

Verse 2nd 
Now youths the breaking stages load 
That swiftly rattling o'er the road 

To Greenwich haste away : 
While some with sounding oars divide lo 

Of smoothly-flowing Thames the tide 

All sing the festive lay. 

Verse 3rd 
With mirthful dance they beat the ground, 
Their shouts of joy the hills resound 

And catch the jocund noise: i5 

Without a tear, without a sigh 
Their moments all in transports fly 

Till evening ends their joys. 

Verse 4th 
But little think their joyous hearts 
Of dire Misfortune's varied smarts io 

Which youthful years conceal : 
Thoughtless of bitter-smiling Woe 
Which all mankind are born to know 

And they themselves must feel. 

^ From a hitherto unpublished MS. The lines were sent in a letter to 
Luke Coleridge, dated May 12, 1787. 



Verse 5111 
Yet lif who Wisdom's i>iiths shall keop 25 

And \'iitiio firm that scorns to weep 

At ills in Fortune's power, 
Through this life's variegated scene 
In raging storms or calm serene 

Shall cheerful spend the hour. 30 

Verse 6th 
While steady Virtue guides his mind 
Ileav'n-born Content he still shall find 

That never sheds a tear : 
Without respect to any tide 
His hours away in bliss shall glide 35 

Like Easter all the year. 


To tempt the dangerous deep, too venturous youth, 

Why does thy breast with fondest wishes glow? 

No tender parent there thy cares shall sooth, 

No much-lov'd Friend shall share thy every woe. 

Why does thy mind with hopes delusive burn? 5 

Vain are thy Schemes by heated Fancy plann'd : 

Thy promis'd joy thou'lt see to Sorrow turn 

Exil'd from Bliss, and from thy native land. 

Hast thou foreseen the Storm's impending rage, 

When to the Clouds the Waves ambitious rise, 10 

And seem with Heaven a doubtful war to wage, 

Whilst total darkness overspreads the skies ; 

Save when the lightnings darting wunged Fate 

Quick bursting from the pitchy clouds between 

In forked Terror, and destructive state '^ 15 

Shall shew with double gloom the horrid scene? 

1 First published in 1893. The autograph MS. is in the British Museum. 

' State, Grandeur [1792]. This school exercise, written in the 15th year 
of my age, does not contain a line that any clever schoolboy might not 
have written, and like most school poetry is a Putting of Thov^ht into Verse ; 
for such. Verses as strivings of mind and struggles after the Intense and 
Vivid are a fair Promise of better things. — S. T. C. aetat. suae 51. [1828.] 


Shalt thou be at this hour from danger free ? 

Perhaps with fearful force some falling Wave 

Shall wash thee in the wild tempestuous Sea, 

And in some monster's belly fix thy grave ; 20 

Or (woful hap !) against some wave- worn rock 

Which long a Terror to each Bark had stood 

Shall dash thy mangled limbs with furious shock 

And stain its craggy sides with human blood. 

Yet not the Tempest, or the Whirlwind's roar 25 

Equal the horrors of a Naval Fight, 

When thundering Cannons spread a sea of Gore 

And varied deaths now fire and now affright : 

The impatient shout, that longs for closer war, 

Reaches from either side the distant shores ; 30 

Whilst frighten'd at His streams ensanguin'd far 

Loud on his troubled bed huge Ocean roars. ^ 

What dreadful scenes appear before my eyes ! 
Ah ! see how each with frequent slaughter red, 
Regardless of his dying fellows' cries 35 

O'er their fresh wounds with impious order tread ! 
From the dread place does soft Compassion fly ! 
The Furies fell each alter'd breast command ; 
Whilst Vengeance drunk with human blood stands by 
And smiling fires each heart and arms each hand. 40 

Should 'st thou escape the fury of that day 

A fate more cruel still, imhappy, view. 

Opposing winds may stop thy luckless way, 

And spread fell famine through the suffering crew. 

Canst thou endure th' extreme of raging Thirst 45 

Which soon may scorch thy throat, ah ! thoughtless Youth ! 

Or ravening hunger canst thou bear which erst 

On its own flesh hath fix'd the deadly tooth? 

^ I well remember old Jemmy Bowyer, the plagose Orbilius of 
Christ's Hospital, but an admirable educer no less than Educator of the 
Intellect, bade me leave out as many epithets as would turn the whole 
into eight-syllable lines, and then ask myself if the exercise would not be 
greatly improved. How often have I thought of the proposal since then, 
and how many thousand bloated and puffing lines have I read, that, by 
this process, would have tripped over the tongue excellently. Likewise, 
I remember that he told me on the same occasion — 'Coleridge ! the 
connections of a Declamation are not the transitions of Poetry— bad, 
however, as they are, they are better than "Apostrophes" and '' thou's " , 
for at the worst they are something like common sense. The others are 
the grimaces of Lunacy.' — S. T. Coleridge. 



DuImuus and fluttering 'twixt hope and fear 

With trembling liands the lot I see thee draw, 50 

Which shall, or sentence thee a victim drear, 

To that ghaunt Plague which savage knows no law: 

Or, deep thy dagger in the friendly heart, 

Whilst each strong passion agitates thy breast, 

Though oft with Horror back I see thee start. 55 

Lo ! Hunger drives thee to th' inhuman feast. 

Those are the ills, that may the course attend — 
Then with the joys of home contented rest — 
Here, meek-eyed Peace with humble Plenty lend 
Their aid united still, to make thee Ijlest. 60 

To ease each pain, and to increase each joy — 
Here mutual Love shall fix thy tender wife. 
Whose offspring shall thy youthful care employ 
And gild with brightest rays the evening of thy Life. 

[in Christ's hospital book] 

What pleasures shall he ever find ? 

What joys shall ever glad his heart? 

Or who shall heal his wounded mind, 

If tortur'd by Misfortune's smart? 
Who Hymeneal bliss will never prove, 5 

That more than friendship, friendship mix'd with love. 


Then without child or tender wife, 

To drive away each care, each sigh, 

Lonely he treads the paths of life 

A stranger to Affection's tye : 10 

And when from Death he meets his final doom 
No mourning wife with tears of love shall wet his tomb. 

^ First published in 1893. 


Tho' Fortune, Riches, Honours, Pow*r, 
Had giv'n with every other toy, 

Those gilded trifles of the hour, 15 

Those painted nothings sure to cloy : 
He dies forgot, his name no son shall bear 
To shew the man so blest once breath'd the vital air. 



Mild Splendour of the various-vested Night ! 

Mother of wildly -working visions ! hail ! 
I watch thy gliding, while with watery light 

Thy weak eye glimmers through a fleecy veil ; 
And when thou lovest thy pale orb to shroud 5 

Behind the gathered blackness lost on high ; 
And when thou dartest from the wind-rent cloud 

Thy placid lightning o'er the awaken'd sky. 

Ah such is Hope ! as changeful and as fair ! 

Now dimly peering on the wistful sight ; 10 

Now hid behind the dragon-wing'd Despair : 

But soon emerging in her radiant might 
She o'er the sorrow-clouded breast of Care 

Sails, like a meteor kindling in its flight. 



Seraphs ! around th' Eternal's seat who throng 

With tuneful ecstasies of praise : 
! teach our feeble tongues like yours the song 

Of fervent gratitude to raise — 

1 First published in 1796 : included in 1803, 1829, 1834. No changes 
were made in the text. 

2 First published in 183 i. 

Sonnet— Title] Effusion xviii. To the, &c. : Sonnet xviii, To the, &c , 1S03. 
Anthem. For the Children, &c.] This Anthem was written as if intended 
to have been sung by the Children of Christ's Hospital. MS. 0. 
3 yours] you MS. 0. 


Like yon, in«;pirod with holy flame 5 

To dwell on that Almighty name 
Who bade the child of Woe no longer sigh, 
And Joy in tears o'erspread the widow's eye. 

Tir all-giacious Parent hears the wretch's ]>rayer; 

The meek tear strongly pleads on high ; 10 

Wan Resignation struggling with despair 

The Ijord beholds with pitying eye ; 
Sees cheerless Want unpitied pine, 
Disease on earth its head recline. 
And bids Compassion seek the realms of woe 15 

To heal the wounded, and to raise the low. 

She comes ! she comes ! the meek-eyed Power I see 

With liberal hand that loves to bless ; 
The clouds of Sorrow at her presence flee : 

Rejoice I rejoice ! ye Children of Distress I 20 

The beams that play around her head 
Thro' Want's dark vale their radiance spread : 
The young uncultur'd mind imbibes the ray, 
And Vice reluctant quits th' expected prey. 

Cease, thou lorn mother! cease thy wailings drear; 25 

Ye babes ! the unconscious sob forego ; 
Or let full Gratitude now prompt the tear 

Which erst did Sorrow force to flow. 
Unkindly cold and tempest shrill 

In Life's morn oft the traveller chill, 30 

But soon his path the sun of Love shall warm ; 
And each glad scene look brighter for the storm ! 

[in Christ's hospital book] 
Medio de fonte leporum 
Surgit amari aliquid. 

Julia was blest with beauty, wit, and grace : 
Small poets lov'd to sing her bloommg face. 
Before her altars, lo ! a numerous train 
Preferr'd their vows ; yet all preferr'd in vain, 
^ First published in the History of . . . Christ's Hospital. By tlie Rev. 

W. Trollope, 1834, p. 192. Included in Literary Beniains, 1836, i. 33, 34. 

First collected P. and D. W., 1877-80. 

14 its head on earth MS. 0. 

Julia. Medio, &c.] De medio fonte leporum. Trollope. 


Till charming Florio, born to conquer, came 5 

And touched the fair one with an equal flame. 

The flame she felt, and ill could she conceal 

What every look and action would reveal. 

With boldness then, which seldom fails to move, 

He pleads the cause of Marriage and of Love : 10 

The course of Hymeneal joys he rounds. 

The fair one's eyes danc'd pleasure at the sounds. 

Nought now remain'd but 'Noes' — how little meant! 

And the sweet coyness that endears consent. 

The youth upon his knees enraptur'd fell : 15 

The strange misfortune, oh ! what words can tell ? 

Tell ! ye neglected sylphs ! who lap-dogs guard, 

Why snatch'd ye not away your precious ward ? 

Why sufler'd ye the lover's weight to fall 

On the ill-fated neck of much-lov'd Ball? 20 

The favourite on his mistress casts his eyes, 

Gives a short melancholy howl, and— dies. 

Sacred his ashes lie, and long his rest ! 

Anger and grief divide poor Julia's breast. 

Her eyes she fixt on guilty Florio first: 25 

On him the storm of angry grief must burst. 

That storm he fled : he wooes a kinder fair. 

Whose fond afl'ections no dear puppies share. 

'Twere vain to tell, how Julia pin'd away: 

Unhappy Fair! that in one luckless day — 30 

From future Almanacks the day be crost ! — 

At once her Lover and her Lap-dog lost. 


I IN Christ's hospital book] 
! mihi praeteritos referat si Jupiter anno>< ! 

Oh! might my ill-past hours return again! 

No more, as then, should Sloth around me throw 

Her soul-enslaving, leaden chain ! 
No more the precious time would I employ 
In giddy revels, or in thoughtless joy, 
A present joy producing future woe. 
First published in 1893. 

12 danc'd] dance T. Lit. Bern. 


But o'er tlie midniglit Lamp I'd love to pore, 

I'd seek with care fair Learning's depths to sound. 

And gather scientific Lore : 
Or tt) mature the emhryo thoughts inclin'd, lo 

That half-conceiv'd h'\y struggling in my mind, 
The cloisters' solitary gloom I'd round. 

Tis vain to wish, for Time has ta'en his flight — 
For follies past be ceas'd the fruitless tears : 

Let follies j>ast to future care incite. 15 

Averse maturer judgements to obey 
Youth owns, with pleasure owns, the Passions' sway, 
But sage Experience only comes with years. 


Ye souls uniis'd to lofty verse 

Who sweep the earth with lowly wing. 

Like sand before the blast disperse — 
A Nose ! a mighty Nose I sing ! 
As erst Prometheus stole from heaven the fire 5 

To animate the wonder of his hand ; 
Thus with unhallow'd hands, Muse, aspire, 

And from my subject snatch a burning brand ! 
So like the Nose I sing — my verse shall glow — 
Like Phlegethon my verse in waves of fire shall flow ! jc 

Light of this once all darksome spot 

Where now their glad course mortals run, 
First-born of Sirius begot 

Upon the focus of the Sun — 

I'll call thee ! for such thy earthly name — 15 

W^hat name so high, but what too low must be ? 
Comets, when most they drink the solar flame 
Are but faint types and images of thee ! 

' First published in 1834. The third stanza was ijublished in tlie 
Morning Post, Jan. 2, 1798, entitled ' To the Lord Mayor's Nose'. William 
Gill (see 11. 15, 20) was Lord Mayor in 1788. 

TJic— Title] Rhapsody MS. : The Nose.— An Odaic Rhapsody MS. 

5 As erst from Heaven Prometheus stole the fire MS. (c}. 7 hands] 
hand3/S. (c). 10 waves of fire] fiery waves MS. (c). 15 I'll call 

thee Gill MS. 0. G— 11 MS. (c). 16 high] great MS. (c). 


Burn madly, Fire ! o'er earth in ravage run, 

Then blush for shame more red by fiercer outdone ! 20 

I saw when from the turtle feast 

The thick dark smoke in volumes rose ! 

I saw the darkness of the mist 
Encircle thee, O Nose ! 
Shorn of thy rays thou shott'st a fearful gleam 25 

(The turtle quiver'd with prophetic fright) 
Gloomy and sullen thro' the night of steam : — 

So Satan's Nose when Dunstan urg'd to flight, 
Glowing from gripe of red-hot pincers dread 
Athwart the smokes of Hell disastrous twilight shed ! 30 

The Furies to madness my brain devote — 

In robes of ice my body wrap ! 
On billowy flames of fire I float, 

Hear ye my entrails how they snap? 
Some power unseen forbids my lungs to breathe ! 35 

What fire-clad meteors round me whizzing fly ! 
I vitrify thy torrid zone beneath. 

Proboscis fierce ! I am calcined ! I die ! 
Thus, like great Pliny, in Vesuvius' fire, 
I perish in the blaze while I the blaze admire. 40 



Tho' no bold flights to thee belong ; 

And tho' thy lays with conscious fear. 

Shrink from Judgement's eye severe, 

Yet much I thank thee. Spirit of my song ! 

For, lovely Muse ! thy sweet employ 5 

Exalts my soul, refines my breast. 

Gives each pure pleasure keener zest, 

And softens sorrow into pensive Joy. 

From thee I learn'd the wish to bless, 

From thee to commune with my heart ; 10 

1 First published in 1834. 

20 by fiercer Gill outdone MS. 0. : more red for sham6 by fiercer 
G— 11 MS. (c). 22 dark] dank MS. 0, MS. (c). 25 rays] beams 

MS. (c). 30 MS. (c) ends ivith the third stanza. 

To the ilfwse-Title] Sonnet I. To my Muse MS. 0. 


From thee, dear Muse I the gayer part, 
To laugh with pity at the crowds that press 
Where Fashion flaunts lior robes l)y Folly spun, 
Whose hues gay-varying wanton in the sun. 


Heard'st thou yon universal cry. 

And dost thou linger still on Gallia's shore? 
Go, Tyranny I beneath some barbarous sky 
Thy terrors lost and ruin'd power deplore ! 

What tho' through many a groaning age 5 

Was felt thy keen suspicious rage. 

Yet Freedom rous'd by fierce Disdain 

Has wildly broke thy triple chain, 
And like the storm which Earth's deep entrails hide, 
At length has burst its way and spread the ruins wide. lo 


In sighs their sickly breath was spent ; each gleam 

Of Hope had ceas'd the long long day to cheer ; 
Or if delusive, in some flitting dream. 

It gave them to their friends and children dear — 

Awaked by lordly Insult's sound 15 

To all the doubled horrors round. 

Oft shrunk they from Oppression's band 

While Anguish rais'd the desperate hand 
For silent death ; or lost the mind's controll, 
Thro' every burning vein would tides of Frenzy roll. 20 

^ First published in 1834. Note. The Bastile was destroyed July 14, 1789. 

Destruction of the Bastile— Title] An ode on the Destruction of the Bastile 
MS. 0. 

II In MS. stanza iv follows stanza i, part of the leaf being torn out. In 
another MS. copy in place of the asterisks the following note is inserted : 
' Stanzas second and third are lost. We may gather from the context that 
they alluded to the Bastile and its inhabitants." 12 long long] live- 

long MS. 0. 


But cease, ye pitying bosoms, cease to bleed ! 

Such scenes no more demand the tear humane ; 
I see, I see ! glad Liberty succeed 

With every patriot virtue in her train ! 

And mark yon peasant's raptur'd eyes ; z^ 

Secure he views his harvests rise ; 

No fetter vile the mind shall know, 

And Eloquence shall fearless glow. 
Yes ! Liberty the soul of Life shall reign, 
Shall throb in every pulse, shall flow thro' every vein ! 30 


Shall France alone a Despot spurn? 

Shall she alone, Freedom, boast thy care? 
Lo, round thy standard Belgia's heroes burn, 
Tho' Power's blood-stain'd streamers fire the air, 

And wider yet thy influence spread, 35 

Nor e'er recline thy w^eary head. 
Till every land from pole to pole 
Shall boast one independent soul ! 
And still, as erst, let favour'd Britain be 
First ever of the first and freest of the free ! 40 



As late I journey'd o'er the extensive plain 
Where native Otter sports his scanty stream, 

Musing in torpid woe a Sister's pain, 

The glorious prospect woke me from the dream. 

At every step it widen'd to my sight — 5 

Wood, Meadow, verdant Hill, and dreary Steep, 

Following in quick succession of delight, — 
Till all — at once— did my eye ravish'd sweep! 

1 First published in 1834. 

32 Shall She, Freedom, all thy blessings share MS. erased. 

Life— Title] Sonnet II. Written September, 1789 MS. : Sonnet 
written just after the writer left the Country in Sept. 1789, aetat 15 
MS. (c). 

6 dreary] barren MS. 0, MS. (c). 8 my ravish'd eye did sweep. 

MS. 0, MS. (c). 

12 LIFE 

May this (I eriod) my course tlirough Lil'o portray! 
New scenes of Wisdom may each step display, 

And Knowledge open as my days advance ! 
Till what time Death shall pour the undarken'd ray, 

My eye shall dart thro' infinite expanse, 
And thought suspend«Hl lie in Rapture's blissful trance. 


[Nemo repente turpissimus] 

Deep in the gulph of Vice and Woe 
Leaps Man at onco with headlong throw? 
Him inborn Truth and Virtue guide, 
Whose guards are Shame and conscious Pride. 

In some gay hour Vice steals into the breast ; 

Perchance she wears some softer Virtue's vest. 

By unperceiv'd degrees she tempts to stray, 
Till far from Virtue's path she leads the feet away. 

Then swift the soul to disenthrall 

Will Memory the past recall, 

And Fear before the Victim's eyes 

Bid future ills and dangers rise. 
But hark ! the Voice, the Lyre, their charms combine — 
Gay sparkles in the cup the generous Wine — 
Th' inebriate dance, the fair frail Nymph inspires, 
And Virtue vanquish'd — scorn'd — with hasty flight retires. 

But soon to tempt the Pleasures cease ; 
Yet Shame forbids return to peace, 
And stern Necessity will force 
Still to urge on the desperate course. 

1 First published in 1834, from MS. 0. 

12 Till when death pours at length MS. (c). 

14 While thought suspended lies MS. : While thought suspended lies 
in Transport's blissful trance MS. (c). 

Progress of Vice — Title] Progress of Vice. An Ode MS. 0. The motto 
first appears in Boyer's Liber Aureus. 

I Vice] Guilt L. A. 3 inborn] innate L. A. 9 Yet still the 

heart to disenthrall L. A. 12 Bid] Bids MS. 0. ills] woes L. A. 

13 But hark ! their charms the voice L. A. 15 The mazy dance and 

frail young Beauty fires L. A. 20 Still on to urge MS. 0. 


The drear black paths of Vice the wretch must try, 
Where Conscience flashes horror on each eye, 
Where Hate — where Murder scowl — where starts Afl'right ! 
Ah ! close the scene — ah ! close — for dreadful is the sight. 

[first version, in Christ's hospital book — 1790] 

Cold penury repress'd his noble rage, 
And froze the genial current of his soul. 

Now prompts the Muse poetic lays. 
And high my bosom beats with love of Praise I 
But, Chatterton ! methinks I hear thy name. 
For cold my Fancy grows, and dead each Hope of Fame. 

When Want and cold Neglect had chill'd thy soul, 5 

Athirst for Death I see thee drench the bowl ! 
Thy corpse of many a livid hue 
On the bare ground I view. 
Whilst various passions all my mind engage ; 

Now is my breast distended with a sigh, 10 

And now a flash of Rage 
Darts through the tear, that glistens in my eye. 

Is this the land of liberal Hearts ! 
Is this the land, where Genius ne'er in vain 
!Pour'd forth her soul-enchanting strain? 15 

Ah me ! yet Butler "gainst the bigot foe 
Well-skill'd to aim keen Humour's dart, 
Yet Butler felt Want's i^oignant sting ; 
And Otway, Master of the Tragic art. 
Whom Pity's self had taught to sing, 20 

^ First published in 1893, The version in the Ottery Copy-book (^MS. 0) 
was first published in P. and D. TF,, 1880, ii. 355*-8*. Three MSS. of 
the Monody, &c. are extant : (1) the Ottery Copy-book [MS. 0] ; (2) Boyer's 
Liber ^M/eus=: the text as printed ; (3) the transcription of S. T. C.'s early 
poems made in 1823 [MS. (c)]. Variants in 1 and 3 are given below. 

24 Ah ! close the scene, for dreadful MS. 0. 

Monody — Title] A Monody on Chatterton, who poisoned himself at the 
age of eighteen — written by the author at the age of sixteen. MS. (c). 

Motto] The motto does not appear in MS. 0, but a note is prefixed : ' This poem 
has since appeared in print, much altered, whether for the better I doubt. 
This was, I believe, written before the Author went to College ' (J. T. C). 

6 drench] drain MS. 0, MS. (c). 7 corpse] corse MS. 0, MS. (c). 

13 Hearts] Heart MS. 0, MS. (c). 20 taught] bade MS. 0, MS. (c). 


Sank beneath a load of Woe ; 
This ever can the generous Briton hear, 
And starts not in his eye th' indignant Tear ? 

Elate of Heart and confident of Fame, 
From vales where Avon sports, the Minstrel came, 35 

Gay as the Poet hastes along 
He meditates the future song, 
How ^lla battled with his country's foes. 
And whilst Fancy in the air 

Paints him many a vision fair 30 

His eyes dance rapture and his bosom glows. 
With generous joy he views th' ideal gold : 
He listens to many a Widow's prayers, 
And many an Orphan's thanks he hears ; 

He soothes to peace the care-worn breast, 35 

He bids the Debtor's eyes know rest. 
And Liberty and Bliss behold : 
And now he punishes the heart of steel, 
And her own iron rod he makes Oppression feel. 
Fated to heave sad Disappointment's sigh, 40 

To feel the Hope now rais'd, and now deprest. 
To feel the burnings of an injur'd breast, 
From all thy Fate's deep sorrow keen 
In vain, Youth, I turn th' affrighted eye ; 
For powerful Fancy evernigh 45 

The hateful picture forces on my sight. 
There, Death of every dear delight. 
Frowns Poverty of Giant mien ! 
In vain I seek the charms of youthful grace, 
Thy sunken eye, thy haggard cheeks it shews, 50 

The quick emotions struggling in the Face 

Faint index of thy mental Throes, 
When each strong Passion sj^urn'd controll. 
And not a Friend was nigh to calm thy stormy soul. 

Such was the sad and gloomy hour 55 

When anguish VI Care of sullen brow 
Prepared the Poison's death-cold power. 
Already to thy lips was rais'd the bowl. 
When filial Pity stood thee by, 

21 Sank] Sunk MS. 0, MS. (c). 22 This ever] Which can the . . • ever 
hear MS. 0, MS. (c). 29 whilst] wliile MS. 0. 32 ideal] rising 

MS. 0. 36 eyes] too MS. (c). 42 To feel] With all MS. 0. 43 

Lo ! from thy dark Fate's sorrow keen MS, 0. 45 powerful] busy MS. 0. 
50 cheeks it] cheek she MS. 0: looks she MS. ,c). 51 the] thy MS. 0. 


Thy fixed eyes she bade thee roll 60 

On scenes that well might melt thy soul — 

Thy native cot she held to view, 

Thy native cot, where Peace ere long 

Had listen'd to thy evening song ; 

Thy sister's shrieks she bade thee hear, 65 

And mark thy mother's thrilling tear, 

She made thee feel her deep-drawn sigh. 

And all her silent agony of Woe. 

And from tliy Fate shall such distress ensue ? 

Ah ! dash the poison'd chalice from thy hand ! 70 

And thou had'st dash'd it at her soft command ; 

But that Despair and Indignation rose, 

And told again the story of thy Woes, 

Told the keen insult of th' unfeeling Heart, 

The dread dependence on the low-born mind, 75 

Told every Woe, for which thy breast might smart, 

Neglect and grinning scorn and Want combin'd — 

Recoiling back, thou sent'st the friend of Pain 
To roll a tide of Death thro' every freezing vein. 

O Spirit blest ! 80 

Whether th' eternal Throne around. 

Amidst the blaze of Cherubim, 

Thou pourest forth the grateful hymn. 

Or, soaring through the blest Domain, 

Enraptur'st Angels with thy strain, — " 85 

Grant me, like thee, the lyre to sound, 

Like thee, with fire divine to glow — 

But ah ! when rage thfe Waves of Woe, 

Grant me with firmer breast t'oppose their hate. 
And soar beyond the storms with upright eye elate ! ^ 90 

60 eyes] eye MS. 0. 61 On scenes which MS. 0. On] To MS. (c). 

64 evening] Evening's MS. (c). 66 thrilling] frequent MS. (c). 

67 made] bade MS. 0, MS. (c). 78 sent'st] badest MS. 0. 79 

To] Quick, freezing] icening MS. 0, MS. (c). 81 eternal] Eternal's 

MS. : endless MS. (c). 82 Cherubim] Seraphim MS. 0. 88 But 

ah !] Like thee MS. 0, MS. (c). 

89 To leave behind Contempt, and Want, and State, MS. 0. 

To leave behind Contempt and Want and Hate MS. (c). 

And seek in other worlds an happier Fate MS. 0, MS. (c). 

1 [Note to 11. 88-90.] ' Altho' this latter reflection savours of suicide, it 
will easily meet with the indulgence of the considerate reader when he 
reflects that the Author's imagination was at that time inflam'd with the 
idea of his beloved Poet, and perhaps uttered a sentiment which in his cooler 
moments he would have abhor'd the thought of.' [Signed] J. M. MS. (c). 



Sweet Muso ! companion of my evny hour ! 
Voice of my Joy ! Sure sootlur of the sigh! 
Now plume thy pinions, now exert each power, 
And fiy to him who owns the candid eye. 
And if a smile of Praise thy labour hail 5 

(Well shall thy labours then my mind employ) 
Fly fleetly back, sweet Muse ! and with the tale 
O'erspread my Features with a flush of Joy ! 


Within these wilds was Anna wont to rove 
While Harland told his love in many a sigh, 
But stern on Harland roU'd her brother's eye, 

They fought, they fell — her brother and her love I 

To Death's dark house did grief-worn Anna haste, 5 

Yet here her pensive ghost delights to stay ; 
Oft pouring on the winds the broken lay — 

And hark, I hear her — 'twas the passing blast. 

I love to sit upon her tomb's dark grass. 

Then Memory backward rolls Time's shadowy tide ; 10 

The tales of other days before me glide: 

With eager thought I seize them as they pass ; 

For fair, tho' faint, the forms of Memory gleam. 

Like Heaven's bright beauteous bow reflected in the stream. 

O MEEK attendant of Sol's setting blaze, 

I hail, sweet star, thy chaste effulgent glow : 
On thee full oft with fixed eye I gaze 

Till I, methinks, all spirit seem to grow. 

1 First published in 1893, from an autograpli MS. 

2 First printed in the Cambridge Intelligencer, Oct. 15, 1794. First collected 
P. and D. W., 1880, Supplement, ii. 359. The text is that of 1880 and 
1893, which follow a MS. version. 

3 First published in P. a^id D. W., 1880, Supplement^ ii. 359, from 
MS. 0. 

Anna and Harland — Title] Anna and Henry C. 7. 

I Along this glade C.I. 2 Henry C. I. 3 stern] dark C. I. Harland] 
Henry C. I. 5 To her cold grave did woe -worn C. I. 6 stay] 

stray C. I. 7 the] a C. I. 9 dark] dank C. i. 10 Then] TJiere C. /. 
II tales] forms C.I. 14 Like Heaven's bright bow reflected on the 

stream. C. I. 


first and fairest of the starry choir, 5 

loveliest 'mid the daughters of the night; 

Must not the maid I love like thee inspire 
Fure joy and calm Delight? 

Must she not be, as is thy placid sphere 

Serenely brilliant? Whilst to gaze a while to 

Be all my wish 'mid Fancy's high career 
E'en till she quit this scene of earthly toil ; 

Then Hope perchance might fondly sigh to join 

Her spirit in thy kindred orb, Star benign ! 
? 1790. 


Once could the Morn's first beams, the healthful breeze, 
All Nature charm, and gay was every hour: — 
But ah ! not Music's self, nor fragrant bower 
Can glad the trembling sense of wan Disease. 
Now that the frequent pangs my frame assail, 5 

Now that my sleepless eyes are sunk and dim, 
And seas of Pain seem waving through each limb — 
Ah what can all Life's gilded scenes avail ? 
I view the crowd, whom Youth and Health inspire, 
Hear the loud laugh, and catch the sportive lay, lo 

Then sigh and think — I too could laugh and play 
And gaily sport it on the Muse's lyre, 
Ere Tyrant Pain had chas'd aw^ay delight. 
Ere the wild pulse throbb'd anguish thro' the night ! 
? 1790. 



Lovely gems of radiance meek 

Trembling down my Laura's cheek, 

As the streamlets silent glide 

Thro' the Mead's enamell'd pride, 

Pledges sweet of pious woe, 5 

Tears which Friendship taught to flow, 

^ First published in 1834. 2 First published in 1893. From MS. (c). 

Pam— Title] Pain, a Sonnet MS. : Sonnet Composed in Sickness MS. 
3 But ah ! nor splendid feasts MS. (c). 12 Muse's] festive MS. 0, 

MS. (c). 


Sparkling in yon humid liglit 
Love embathes his pinions briglit : 
There amid tlie glitt'ring show'r 
Smiling sits th' insidious Power; lo 

As some winged Warbler oft 
When Spring-clouds shed their treasures soft 
Joyous tricks his i)lumes anew, 
And flutters in the fost'ring dew. 


Muse who sangest late another's pain, 

To griefs domestic turn thy coal-black steed ! 
With slowest steps thy funeral steed must go, 
Nodding his head in all the pomp of woe : 
Wide scatter round each dark and deadly weed, 5 

And let the melancholy dirge complain, 
(Whilst Bats shall shriek and Dogs shall howling run) 
The tea-kettle is spoilt and Coleridge is undone ! 
Your cheerful songs, ye unseen crickets, cease ! 
Let songs of grief your alter'd minds engage I 10 

For he who sang responsive to your lay, 
What time the joyous bubbles 'gan to play, 
The sooty swain has felt the fire's fierce rage ; — 
Y^es, he is gone, and all my woes increase ; 

1 heard the water issuing from the wound — 15 
No more the Tea shall pour its fragrant steams around ! 

Goddess best belov'd ! Delightful Tea ! 
With thee compar'd what yields the madd'ning Vine? 
Sweet power ! who know'st to spread the calm delight. 
And the pure joy prolong to midmost night ! 20 

Ah ! must I all thy varied sweets resign ? 
Enfolded close in grief thy form I see ; 
No more wilt thou extend thy willing arms. 
Receive the fervent Jove, and yield him all thy charms ! 

1 First published in 1834, from MS. 0. The text of 1893 follows an 
autograph MS. in the Editor's possession. 

Monody'] i Muse that late sang another's poignant pain MS. S. T. C. 
3 In slowest steps the funeral steeds shall go MS. S. T. C. 4 Nodding 

their heads MS. S. T. C. 5 each deadly weed MS. S. T. C. 8 The] 

His MS. S. T. C. 9 songs] song MS. S. T. C. 15 issuing] hissing 

MS. S. T. C. 16 pour] throw MS. S. T. C. steams] steam MS. S. T. C. 
18 thee] whom MS. S. T. C. Vine] Wine MS. S. T. C. 19 who] that 

MS. S. T. C. 21 various charms MS. S. T. C. 23 extend] expand 

MS. S. T. C. 


How sink the mighty low by Fate opprest ! — 25 

Perhaps, Kettle ! thou by scornful toe 

Eude urg'd t' ignoble place with plaintive din. 

May'st rust obscure midst heaps of vulgar tin ; — 

As if no joy had ever seiz'd my breast 

When from thy sjDout the streams did arching fly, — 30 

As if, infus'd, thou ne'er hadst known t' inspire 

All the warm raptures of poetic fire ! 

But hark ! or do I fancy the glad voice — 
'What tho' the swain did wondrous charms disclose — 
(Not such did Memnon's sister sable drest) 35 

Take these bright arms with royal face imprest, 
A better Kettle shall thy soul rejoice. 
And with Oblivion's wings o'erspread thy woes ! ' 
Thus Fairy Hope can soothe distress and toil ; 
On empty Trivets she bids fancied Kettles boil ! 40 



Maid of my Love, sweet Genevieve ! 
In Beauty's light you glide along : 

^ First published in the Cambridge Intelligencer for Nov. 1, 1794 : included 
in the editions of 1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1831. Three MSS. are 
extant ; (1) an autograph in a copy-book made for the family \_MS. 0] ; (2) 
an autograph in a copy-book presented to Mrs. Estlin [MS. E] ; and 
(3) a transcript included in a copy-book presented to Sara Coleridge in 
1823 \_MS. (c)]. In an unpublished letter dated Dec. 18, 1807, Coleridge 
invokes the aid of Kichard [' Conservation'] Sharp on behalf of a ' Mrs. 
Brewman, vs'lio was elected a nurse to one of the wards of Christ's Hospital 
at the time that I was a boy there \ He says elsewhere that he spent 
full half the time from seventeen to eighteen in the sick ward of Christ's 
Hospital. It is doubtless to this period, 1789-90, that Pain and Genevieve, 
which, according to a Christ's Hospital tradition, were inspired by his 
^Nurse's Daughter', must be assigned. 

' This little poem was written when the Author was a boy ' — Note 1796, 

25 How low the mighty sink MS. S. T. C. 29 seiz'd] chear'd MS. S. T. C. 
30-1 When from thy spout the stream did arching flow 

As if, inspir'd MS. S. T. C. 
33 the glad] Georgian MS. S. T. C. 34 the swain] its form MS. S. T. C. 

35 Note. A parenthetical reflection of the Author's. 3IS. 0. 38 wings] 
wing MS. S. T. C. 

Genevieve —Title'] Sonnet iii. MS. : Ode MS. E: A Sonnet MS. (c) : 
Effusion xvii. 1796. The heading, Genevieve^ first appears in 1803. 

2 Thou glid'st along [so, too, in 11. 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 13, 14] MS. 0, MS. E, 
MS. (c), C. I. 



Your eye is lik«' the Star of Eve, 
And sweet your voice, as Serai>h's song 
Yet not your heavenly beauty gives 5 

This heart with Passion soft to ^low: 
Within your soul a voice there lives ! 
It bids you hear the tale of Woe. 
When sinking low the sufferer wan 
Beholds no hand outstretch'd to save, 10 

Fair, as the bosom of the Swan 
That rises graceful o'er the wave, 
I've seen your ])reast witli pity heave, 
And therefore love I you, sweet Genevieve ! 


The tear which mourn'd a brother's fate scarce diy — 
Pain after pain, and woe succeeding woe — 
Is my heart destin'd for another blow? 

my sweet sister ! and must thou too die ? 

Ah ! how has Disappointment pour'd the tear 5 

O'er infant Hope destroy'd by early frost ! 
How are ye gone, whom most my soul held dear! 
Scarce had I lov'd you ere I mourn'd you lost ; 
Say, is this hollow eye, this heartless pain. 
Fated to rove thro' Life's wide cheerless plain — 10 

Nor father, brother, sister meet its ken — 
My woes, my joys unshared ! Ah ! long ere then 
On me thy icy dart, stern Death, be prov'd ; — 
Better to die, than live and not be lov'd ! 

1 First published in 1834. The 'brother' (line 1) was Luke Herman 
Coleridge who died at Thorverton in 1790. Anne Coleridge, the poet's 
sister (the only daughter of his father's second marriage), died in March 

4 Thy voice is lovely as the MS. E : Thy voice is soft, &c, MS. (c), 
C. I. 8 It bids thee hear the tearful plaint of woe MS. E. 10 no . . . 

save] no friendly hand that saves MS. E. outstretch'd] stretcht out 

MS. 0, MS. (c), C. I. 12 the wave] quick-rolling waves MS. E. 

On receiving, &c. — Title] Sonnet v. MS. 0. 

I tear] tears MS. 0. 4 my sweet sister must thou die MS. 0. 7 
gone] flown MS. 0. 10 Fated] Destin'd MS. 0. 11 father] 

Mother MS. 0. 



I TOO a sister had ! too cruel Death ! 

How sad Remembrance bids my bosom heave ! 
Tranquil her soul, as sleeping Infant's breath ; 

Meek were her manners as a vernal Eve. 
Knowledge, that frequent lifts the bloated mind, 5 

Gave her the treasure of a lowly breast. 
And Wit to venom'd Malice oft assign'd, 

Dwelt in her bosom in a Turtle's nest. 
Cease, busy Memory ! cease to urge the dart ; 

Nor on my soul her love to me impress! 10 

For oh I mourn in anguish — and my heart 

Feels the keen pang, th' unutterable distress. 
Yet wherefore grieve I that her sorrows cease, 
For Life was misery, and the Grave is Peace ! 


If Pegasus will let thee only ride him, 
Spurning my clumsy efforts to o'erstride him, 
Some fresh expedient the Muse will try, 
And walk on stilts, although she cannot fly. 

To THE Rev. George Coleridge 

Dear Brother, 

I have often been surprised that Mathematics, the quint- 
essence of Truth, should have found admirers so few and so 
languid. Frequent consideration and minute scrutiny have at 
length unravelled the cause ; viz. that though Reason is feasted, 
Imagination is starved ; whilst Reason is luxuriating in its 
proper Paradise, Imagination is wearily travelling on a dreary 
desert. To assist Reason by the stimulus of Imagination is 
the design of the following production. In the execution of 
it much may be objectionable. The verse (particularly in the 
introduction of the ode) may be accused of unwarrantable 
liberties, but they are liberties equally homogeneal with the 

' First published in 1834. 

2 First published in 1834 without a title, but tabulated as <■ Mathematical 
Problem' in 'Contents' 1 [p. xi]. 

A Mathematical ProUem—Tiild] Prospectus and Specimen of a Trans- 
lation of Euclid in a series of Pindaric Odes, communicated in a letter of 
the author to his Brother Rev. G. Coleridge [March 17, 1791]. MS. (c). 


cxactnoss of Mathematical disquisition, and tlic Ijoldncss of 
Pindaric daring. I have three strong chamjuons to defend 
me against the attacks of Criticism : the Novelty, the DifTiculty, 
and the llility of the work. I may justly plume myself that 
I first liave drawn the nymph Mathesis from tlie visionary 
caves of abstracted idea, and caused her to unite with Harmony. 
The iirst-born of this Union I now present to you ; with in- 
terested motives indeed — as I expect to receive in return the 
more valuable offspring of your Muse. 

Thine ever, 

S. T. C. 

[Christ s Hospital], March 81. 1791. 

This is now — this was erst, 
Proposition the first— and Proldem the first. 

On a given finite line 
Which must no way incline ; 
To describe an equi — 
—lateral Tri— 
—A, N, G, L, E.' 5 

Now let A. B. 
Be the given line 
Which must no way incline ; 
The great Mathematician 
Makes this Kequisition, lo 

That we describe an Equi — 
— lateral Tri — 
— angle on it: 
Aid us, Keason- aid us, Wit! 

From the centre A. at the distance A. B. 15 

Describe the circle B. C. D. 
At the distance B. A. from B. the centre 
The round A. C. E. to describe boldly venture." 
(Third postulate see.) 
And from the point C. 20 

In which the circles make a pother 
Cutting and slashing one another, 

Bid the straight lines a journeying go. 

1 PocHce for Angle. Letter, 1701. 2 Delcndus ' fere '. Letter, 1791. 

5 AENGEEELE. Letter, 1701. 


C. A. C. B. those lines will show. 

To the points, which by A. B. are reckoii'd, 25 
And postulate the second 
For Authority ye know. 
A. B. C. 
Triumphant shall be 
An Equilateral Triangle, 30 

Not Peter Pindar carp, nor Zoilus can wrangle. 

Because the point A. is the centre 

Of the circular B. C. D. 
And because the point B. is the centre 

Of the circular A. C. E. ^^ 

A. C. to A. B. and B. C. to B. A. 
Harmoniously equal for ever must stay ; 
Then C. A. and B. C. 
Both extend the kind hand 

To the basis, A. B. 40 

Unambitiously join'd in Equality's Band. 
But to the same powers, when two powers are equal, 
My mind forbodes the sequel ; 
My mind does some celestial impulse teach, 

And equalises each to each. 45 

Thus C. A. with B. C. strikes the same sure alliance. 
That C. A. and B. C. had with A. B. before ; 
And in mutual affiance 
None attempting to soar 

Above another, 5® 

The unanimous three 
C. A. and B. C. and A. B. 
All are equal, each to his brother, 

Preserving the balance of power so true: 
Ah! the like would the proud Autocratrix^ do! 55 
At taxes impending not Britain w^ould tremble, 
Nor Prussia struggle her fear to dissemble ; 
Nor the Mah'met-sprung Wight 
The great Mussulman 

Would stain his Divan 60 

With Urine the soft-flowing daughter of Fright. 

Empress of Russia. 

36 AC to CB and CB to C A. Letter, 1791, MS. (c). 48 affiance] 
iliancc Letter, 17'JL 55 Autocratrix] Autocratorix MS. (c). 



l>ul n-in yuur stallion in, too darin^^ Nine! 
Should Empires bloat the scientific lino? 
Or \vith (lisheveird hair all madly do ye run 
For transport that your task is done? 65 

For done it is— the cause is tried! 
And Proposition, gentle Maid, 
Who soothly ask'd stern Demonstration's aid, 
Has proved her right, and A. B. C. 

Of Angles three 70 

Is shown to be of equal side ; 
And now our weary steed to rest in fine, 
'Tis rais'd upon A. B. the straight, the given line. 


0, curas hominum ! 0, quantum est in rebus inane ! 

The fervid Sun had more than halv'd the day. 

When gloomy on his couch Philedon lay ; 

His feeble frame consumptive as his purse, 

His aching head did wine and women curse ; 

His fortune ruin'd and his wealth decay'd, 5 

Clamorous his duns, his gaming debts unpaid, 

The youth indignant seiz'd his tailor's bill, 

And on its back thus wrote with moral quill : 

' Various as colours in the rainbow shown, 

Or similar in emptiness alone, 10 

How false, how vain are Man's pursuits below I 

Wealth, Honour, Pleasure— what can ye bestow? 

Yet see, how high and low, and young and old 

Pursue the all-delusive power of Gold. 

Fond man I should all Peru thy empire own, 15 

For thee tho' all Golconda's jew^els shone, 

What greater bliss could all this wealth supply? 

What, but to eat and drink and sleep and die ? 

Go, tempt the stormy sea, the burning soil — 

Go, waste the night in thought, the day in toil, 20 

1 First published in 1834: included in P. and L. W., 1877-80, and in 

Honour^ No title, but motto as above MS. 0. : Philedon, Eds. 1877, 1S9S. 


Dark frowns the rock, and fierce the tempests rave — 

Thy ingots go the unconscious deep to pave ! 

Or thunder at thy door the midnight train, 

Or Death shall knock that never knocks in vain. 

Next Honour's sons come bustling on amain ; 25 

I laugh with pity at the idle train. 

Infirm of soul ! who think'st to lift thy name 

Upon the waxen wings of human fame, — 

Who for a sound, articulated breath — 

Gazest undaunted in the face of death ! 30 

What art thou but a Meteor's glaring light — 

Blazing a moment and then sunk in night? 

Caprice which rais'd thee high shall hurl thee low. 

Or Envy blast the laurels on thy brow. 

To such poor joys could ancient Honour lead 35 

When empty fame was toiling Merit's meed ; 

To Modern Honour other lays belong ; 

Profuse of joy and Lord of right and wrong, 

Honour can game, drink, riot in the stew, 

Cut a friend's throat ; — what cannot Honour do ? 40 

Ah me!— the storm within can Honour still 

For Julio's death, whom Honour made me kill? 

Or will this lordly Honour tell the way 

To pay those debts, which Honour makes me pay? 

Or if with pistol and terrific threats 45 

I make some traveller pay my Honour's debts, 

A medicine for this w'ound can Honour give? 

Ah, no ! my Honour dies to make my Honour live. 

But see ! young Pleasure, and her train advance. 

And joy and laughter wake the inebriate dance ; 50 

Around my neck she throws her fair white arms, 

I meet her loves, and madden at her charms. 

For the gay grape can joys celestial move. 

And what so sweet below as Woman's love? 

With such high transport every moment flies, 55 

I curse Experience that he makes me wise ; 

For at his frown the dear deliriums flew, 

And the changed scene now wears a gloomy hue. 

A hideous hag th' Enchantress Pleasure seems, 

And all her joys appear but feverous dreams. 60 

34 Or] And MS. 0. 

43-4 Or will my Honour kindly tell the way 

To pay the debts MS. 0. 
60 feverous] feverish MS. 0. 


The vain resolve still broken and still made, 
Disease and loathing and renioi*so invade ; 
The charm is vanish'd and the bubble's broke, — 
A slave to pleasure is a slave to smoke ! ' 

Such lays re])entant did the Muse supply ; 65 

AVhen as the Sun was hastening down the sky, 
In glittering state twice fifty guineas come, — 
His Mother's plate antique had rais'd the sum. 
Forth leap'd Philedon of new life possest : — 69 

'Twas Brookes's all till two, — 'twas Hackett's all the rest I 


All are not born to soar— and ah ! how few 
In tracks where Wisdom leads their paths pursue ! 
Contagious w^hen to wit or wealth allied, 
Folly and Vice diffuse their venom wide. 
On Folly every fool his talent tries; 5 

It asks some toil to imitate the wise ; 
Tho' few like Fox can speak— like Pitt can think — 
Yet all like Fox can game — like Pitt can drink. 


'Tis hard on Bagshot Heath to try 

Unclos'd to keep the weary eye ; 

But ah ! Oblivion's nod to get 

In rattling coach is harder yet. 

Slumbrous God of half-shut eye I £ 

Who lovest with limbs supine to lie ; 

Soother sweet of toil and care 

Listen, listen to my prayer ; 

And to thy votary dispense 

Thy soporific influence ! 10 

1 First published in 1834. In MS. lines 3. 4 follow lines 7, 8 of the 
text. 2 pii-st published in 1834. 

70 Brookes's, a famous gaming-house in Fleet Street. Hackett's, a 
brothel under the Covent Garden Piazza. Note MS. 0. 

Inside the Coach — Title] Ode to sleep. Travelling in the Exeter Coach 
with three other passengersover Bagshot Heath, after some vain endeavours 
to compose myself I composed this Ode — August 17, 1791. MS. 0. 


What tho' around thy drowsy head 
The seven-fold cap of night be spread, 
Yet lift that drowsy head awhile 
And yawn propitiously a smile ; 
In drizzly rains poppean dews 15 

O'er the tired inmates of the Coach diffuse ; 
And when thou'st charm'd our eyes to rest, 
Pillowing the chin upon the breast, 
Bid many a dream from thy dominions 
Wave its various-painted pinions, 20 

Till ere the splendid visions close 
We snore quartettes in ecstasy of nose. 
While thus we urge our airy course, 
may no jolt's electric force 

Our fancies from their steeds unhorse, 25 

And call us from thy fairy reign 
To dreary Bagshot Heath again ! 

The indignant Bard composed this furious ode. 
As tired he dragg'd his way thro' Plimtree road ! ^ 
Crusted with filth and stuck in mire 
Dull sounds the Bard's bemudded lyre ; 
Nathless Revenge and Ire the Poet goad 5 

To pour his imprecations on the road. 
Curst road ! whose execrable way 
Was darkly shadow'd out in Milton's lay. 
When the sad fiends thro' Hell's sulphureous roads 
Took the first survey of their new abodes ; 10 

Or when the fall'n Archangel fierce 
Dar'd through the realms of Night to pierce. 
What time the Bloodhound lurd by Human scent 
Thro' all Confusion's quagmires floundering went. 
Nor cheering pipe, nor Bird's shrill note 15 

Around thy dreary paths shall float ; 
Their boding songs shall scritch-owls pour 
To fright the guilty shepherds sore, 

1 First published in 1834. 

2 Plymtree Road, August 18, 1791. Note, MS. 0. [Plimtree is about 
8 miles N. of Ottery St. Mary. S. T. C. must have left the mail coach at 
Cullompton to make his way home on foot.] 

12 Vulgo yclept night-cap MS. 0. 13 that] thy MS. 0. 

Devonshire Roads'] No title MS. 0. 


Led by the wandering lires astray 
Thro' the dank horrors of thy way I 
While they their mud-lost sandals hunt 
May all the curses, which they grunt 
In raging moan like goaded hog. 
Alight upon thee, damned Bog ! 



Hence, soul-dissolving Harmony 

That lead'st th' oblivious soul astray — 
Though thou sphere-descended be — 

Hence away ! — 
Thou mightier Goddess, thou demand'st my lay, 5 

Born when earth was seiz'd with cholic ; 
Or as more sapient sages say, 
What time the Legion diabolic 
Compell'd their beings to enshrine 
In bodies vile of herded swine, 10 

Precipitate adown the steep 
With hideous rout were plunging in the deep. 
And hog and devil mingling grunt and yell 

Seiz'd on the ear with horrible obtrusion ; — 
Then if aright old legendaries tell, 15 

Wert thou begot by Discord on Confusion ! 

What though no name's sonorous power 
Was given thee at thy natal hour ! — 
Yet oft I feel thy sacred might, 

While concords wing their distant flight. 20 

Such Power inspires thy holy son 
Sable clerk of Tiverton ! 
And oft where Otter sports his stream, 
I hear thy banded offspring scream. 
Thou Goddess ! thou inspir'st each throat ; 25 

'Tis thou who pour'st the scritch-owl note ! 
Transported hear'st thy children all 
Scrape and blow and squeak and squall ; 
And while old Otter's steeple rings, 
Clappest hoarse thy raven wings ! 3° 


First published in 1834. 

Music— Title'] Ode on the Ottery and Tiverton Church Music MS. 0. 



Farewell parental scenes ! a sad farewell ! 
To you my grateful heart slill fondly clings, 
Tho* fluttering round on Fancy's burnish'd wings 
Her tales of future Joy Hope loves to tell. 
Adieu, adieu ! ye much-lov'd cloisters pale ! 5 

Ah ! would those happy days return again. 
When 'neath your arches, free from every stain, 
I heard of guilt and wonder'd at the tale ! 
Dear haunts ! w^here oft my simple lays I sang, 
Listening meanwhile the echoings of my feet, lo 

Lingering I quit you, with as great a pang, 
As when erewhile, my w^eeping childhood, torn 
By early sorrow from my native seat. 
Mingled its tears with hers — my widow'd Parent lorn. 



Where graced with many a classic spoil 

Cam rolls his reverend stream along, 

I haste to urge the learned toil 

That sternly chides my love-lorn song : 

Ah me ! too mindful of the days 5 

Illumed by Passion's orient rays. 

When Peace, and Cheerfulness and Health 

Enriched me with the best of wealth. 

Ah fair Delights ! that o'er my soul 

On Memory's wing, like shadows fly ! lo 

Ah Flowers ! which Joy from Eden stole 

While Innocence stood smiling by ! — 

But cease, fond Heart ! this bootless moan : 

Those Hours on rapid Pinions flown 

Shall yet return, by Absence crown'd, 15 

And scatter livelier roses round. 

1 First published in 1834. 

2 First published in Cambridge InteUigejicer, October 11, 1794 : included in 
1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

Sonnet — Title] Sonnet on the Same (i. e. * Absence, A Farewell Ode,' &c.) 

Sonnet — Title] Sonnet on Quitting Christ's Hospital MS. 0. Absence, 
A Farewell Ode 1796, 1803, 


Tlio Sun wlu) ne'rr remits iiis lirt's 
On lieedless eyes may pour tlio day : 
Tlio Moon, that oft from Heaven retires. 
Endears her renovated ray. 20 

What tliougli she leave the sky un]>lest 
To mourn awhile in murky vest? 
When she relumes her lovely light, 
We bless the Wanderer of the Night. 


On wide or narrow scale shall Man 

Most happily describe Life's plan ? 

Say shall he bloom and wither there, 

Where first his infant buds appear ; 

Or upwards dart with soaring force, 5 

And tempt some more ambitious course? 
Obedient now to Hope's command, 

I bid each humble wish expand, 

And fair and bright Life's prospects seem. 

While Hope displays her cheering beam, 10 

And Fancy's vivid colourings stream, 

While Emulation stands me nigh 

The Goddess of the eager eye. 

With foot advanc'd and anxious heart 

Now for the fancied goal I start : — 15 

Ah ! why will Reason intervene 

Me and my promis'd joys between I 

She stops my course, she chains my speed, 

While thus her forceful w^ords proceed: — 

'Ah! listen, Youth, ere yet too late, ao 

What evils on thy course may wait ! 

To bow the head, to bend the knee, 

A minion of Servility, 

At low Pride's frequent frowns to sigh, 
1 First published in 1834. The poem was sent to George Coleridge in 
a letter dated June 22, 1791. An adapted version of 11. 80-105 was sent 
to Southey, July 13, 1794. 

Happiness— Title] Upon the Author's leaving school and entering 
into Life. MS. (c). 

6 tempt] dare MS. 0, MS. (c). 10 While] When MS. 0, MS. (c). 

Between 11-13 How pants my breast before my eyes 

While Honour waves her radiant prize. 
And Emulation, kc. MS. 0, MS. (c). 
22 To bend the head, to bow MS. (c). 24 frowns] frown MS. 0, 

MS. (c). 


And watch the glance in Folly's eye ; 25 

To toil intense, yet toil in vain, 
And feel with whnt a hollow pain 
Pale Disappointment hangs her head 
O'er darling Expectation dead ! 

* The scene is changed and Fortune's gale 30 

Shall belly out each prosperous sail. 
Yet sudden wealth full well I know 
Did never happiness bestow. 
That wealth to which w^e were not born 
Dooms us to sorrow or to scorn. d>5 

Behold yon flock which long had trod 
O'er the short grass of Devon's sod, 
To Lincoln's rank rich meads transferr'd, 
And in their fate thy own be fear'd ; 
Through every limb contagions fly, 4° 

Deform'd and choked they burst and die. 

*When Luxury opens wide her arms, 
And smiling wooes thee to those charms. 
Whose fascination thousands own. 
Shall thy brows wear the stoic frown? 45 

And when her goblet she extends 
Which maddening myriads press around. 
What power divine thy soul befriends 
That thou should'st dash it to the ground? — 
No, thou shalt drink, and thou shalt know 50 

Her transient bliss, her lasting woe. 
Her maniac joys, that know no measure, 
And Riot rude and painted Pleasure ; — 
Till (sad reverse !) the Enchantress vile 
To frowns converts her magic smile ; 55 

Her train impatient to destroy. 
Observe her frown with gloomy joy ; 
On thee with harpy fangs they seize 
The hideous offspring of Disease, 

Swoln Dropsy ignorant of Rest, 60 

And Fever garb'd in scarlet vest. 
Consumption driving the quick hearse. 
And Gout that howls the frequent curse. 
With Apoplex of heavy head 

That surely aims his dart of lead. 65 

25 in] of MS. (c). 41 Deformed, choaked MS. 0, MS. {c). 45 

brows] brow MS. 0, MS. U). 55 magic] wonted MS. 0, MS. (c). 

57 her frown] the fiend MS. 0, MS. (c). 


'But say Life's joys unmix'd were given 
To thee some favourite of Heaven : 
Within, without, tho' all were health — 
Yet what o'en thus are Fame, Power, Wealth, 
But sounds that variously express, 70 

What's thine already — Happiness ! 
'Tis thine the converse deep to hold 
W^ith all the famous sons of old ; 
And thine the happy waking dream 
While Hope pursues some favourite theme, 75 

As oft when Night o'er Heaven is spread, 
Round this maternal seat you tread, 
Where far from splendour, far from riot, 
In silence wrapt sleeps careless Quiet. 
'Tis thine with Fancy oft to talk, 80 

And thine the peaceful evening walk ; 
And what to thee the sweetest are — 
The setting sun, the Evening Star — 
The tints, which live along the sky, 
And Moon that meets thy raptur'd eye, 85 

Where oft the tear shall grateful start. 
Dear silent pleasures of the Heart ! 
Ah ! Being blest, for Heaven shall lend 
To share thy simple joys a friend ! 
Ah ! doubly blest, if Love supply 90 

His influence to complete thy joy, 
If chance some lovely maid thou find 
To read thy visage in thy mind. 

68 Without, within MS. 0, MS. (c). 76 is] has MS. 0, MS. (c). 

77 iV^o^e— Christ's Hospital MS. : Ottery S. Mary in Devonshire MS. (c). 
80-1 'Tis thine with faery forms to talk 

And thine the philosophic walk. Letter to Southey, 1794. 
84 which] that MS. 0, MS. (c), Letter, 1794. 85 And] The Letter, 1794. 
86 Where grateful oft the big drops start. Letter, 1794. shall] does 
MS. (c). 
90-3 Ah! doubly blest, if Love supply 

Lustre to this now heavy eye, 

And with unwonted Spirit grace 

That fat * vacuity of face. 

Or if e'en Love, the mighty Love 

Shall find this change his power above ; 

Some lovely maid perchance thou'lt find 

To read thy visage in thy mind. MS. 0, MS. (c). 

* The Author was at this time, aetat, 17, remarkable for a plump 
face. MS. (c). 


' One blessing more demands thy care : — 

Once more to Heaven address the prayer: 95 

For humble independence pray 

The guardian genius of thy way ; 

Whom (sages say) in days of yore 

Meek Competence to Wisdom bore, 

So shall thy little vessel glide 100 

With a fair breeze adown the tide, 

And Hope, if e'er thou 'ginst to sorrow, 

Remind thee of some fair to-morrow. 

Till Death shall close thy tranquil eye 

While Faith proclaims "Thou shalt not die!"' 105 



Lo ! through the dusky silence of the groves. 
Thro' vales irriguous, and thro' green retreats, 
With languid murmur creeps the placid stream 

And works its secret way. 
Awhile meand'ring round its native fields 5 

It rolls the playful wave and winds its flight : 
Then downward flowing with awaken'd speed 

Embosoms in the Deep ! 
Thus thro' its silent tenor may my Life 
Smooth its meek stream by sordid wealth unclogg'd, lo 
Alike unconscious of forensic storms, 

And Glory's blood-stain'd palm ! 
And when dark Age shall close Life's little day, 
Satiate of sport, and weary of its toils. 
E'en thus may slumbrous Death my decent limbs 15 

Compose with icy hand I 


As late, in wreaths, gay flowers I bound, 
Beneath some roses Love I found ; 
And by his little frolic pinion 
As quick as thought I seiz'd the minion, 

» First published in 1893, from MS. Letter to Mary Evans, Feb. 13 [1792]. 
2 First published in 1893, from MS. Letter, Feb. 13 [1792]. 

96-7 But if thou pour one votive lay 

For humble, &c. Letter, 1794. 96 Not in Letter. 

loi adown Life's tide MS. 0, MS. (c). 102-3 Not in Letter, 1794. 


Then in my cup the prisoner tlirew, 5 

And (h-ank liim in its sparkling dew : 
And sure I feel my angry guest 
Fluttering A/.s winys within my hreast! 
1 7l>2. 


Hence I thou fiend of gloomy sway, 
That lov'st on withering blast to ride 
O'er fond Illusion's air-built pride. 

Sullen Spirit ! Hence ! Away ! 

Where Avarice lurks in sordid cell, 5 

Or mad Ambition builds the dream, 
Or Pleasure plots th' unholy scheme 

There with Guilt and Folly dwell ! 

But oh I when Hope on Wisdom's wing 
Prophetic whispers pure delight, 10 

Be distant far thy cank'rous blight, 

Demon of envenom'd sting. 

Then haste thee, Nymph of balmy gales ! 
Thy poet's prayer, sweet May ! attend ! 
Oh I place my parent and my friend 15 

'Mid her lovely native vales. 

Peace, that lists the woodlark's strains, 
Health, that breathes divinest treasures, 
Laughing Hours, and Social Pleasures 

Wait my friend in Cambria's plains. 20 

Affection there with mingled ray 
Shall pour at once the raptures high 
Of filial and maternal Joy ; 

Haste thee then, delightful May ! 

And oh ! may Spring's fair flowerets fade, 25 

May Summer cease her limbs to lave 
In cooling stream, may Autumn grave 

Yellow o'er the corn-cloath'd glade ; 

Ere, from sweet retirement torn. 
She seek again the crowded mart : 30 

Nor thou, my selfish, selfish heart 

Dare her slow return to mourn ! 

* First published in Letters of Samuel Taylor ColcrUhje, 1895, i. 28, 29. The 
lines were included in a letter tu Mrs. Evans, dated February 13, 1792. 



Where deep in mud Cam rolls his slumbrous stream, 

And bog and desolation reign supreme ; 

Where all Boeotia clouds the misty brain, 

The owl Mathesis pipes her loathsome strain. 

Far, far aloof the frighted Muses fly, 5 

Indignant Genius scowls and passes by : 

The frolic Pleasures start amid their dance. 

And Wit congeal'd stands fix'd in wintry trance. 

But to the sounds with duteous haste repair 

Cold Industry, and wary-footed Care ; 10 

And Dulness, dosing on a couch of lead, 

Pleas'd with the song uplifts her heavy head, 

The sympathetic numbers lists awhile, 

Then yawns propitiously a frosty smile. . . . 

[Caetera desunt.] 

ODE 2 

Ye Gales, that of the Lark's repose 

The impatient Silence break. 

To yon poor Pilgrim's wearying Woes 

Your gentle Comfort speak ! 

He heard the midnight whirlwind die, 5 

He saw the sun-awaken'd Sky 

Resume its slowly-purpling Blue : 

And ah ! he sigh'd — that I might find 

The cloudless Azure of the Mind 

And Fortune's brightning Hue ! 10 

Where'er in waving Foliage hid 

The Bird's gay Charm ascends, 

Or by the fretful current chid 

Some giant Rock impends — 

There let the lonely Cares respire 15 

As small airs thrill the mourning Lyre 

1 First published in Letters of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1895, i. 44. The 
lines were sent in a letter to the Rev. G. Coleridge, dated April [1792]. 

2 These lines, first published in the Watchman (No. IV, March 25, 1796, 
signed G. A. U. N. T.), were included in the volume of MS. Poems presented 
to Mrs. Estlin in April, 1795.. They were never claimed by Coleridge or 
assigned to him, and are now collected for the first time. 

Fragment, i slumbrous] reverend MS. E. 5 frighted] afi'righted 

M.S. E. 9 to] at MS. E. 12 Sooth'd with the song uprears 

MS. E. 13 The] Its MS. E. 

Ode— Title] A Morning Effusion Watchman. 4 Comfort] solace W. 

13 fretful] fretting MS. E 16 mourning] lonely W. 


36 ODE 

And toacli tlir Soul her native Calm : 

Wliile Passion with a languid Ey«- 

Hangs o'er the fall of Harmony 

And drinks the sacred Balm. 20 

Slow as the fragrant whisper (.•ree}>s 

Along the lilied Vale, 
The alter'd Eye of Conquest weeps, 

iVnd ruthless War grows pale 
Relenting that his Heart forsook 33 

Soft Concord of auspicious Look, 
And Love, and social Poverty ; 
The Family of tender Fears, 
The Sigh, tliat saddens and endears, 
And Cares, that sweeten Joy. 30 

Then cease, thy frantic Tumults cease. 

Ambition, Sire of War ! 

Nor o'er the mangled Corse of Peace 

Urge on thy scythed Car. 

And oh ! that Reason's voice might swell 35 

With whisper'd Airs and holy Spell 

To rouse thy gentler Sense, 

As bending o'er the chilly bloom 

The Morning wakes its soft Perfume 

With breezy Influence. 40 

1 / yz. 



The dubious light sad glimmers o'er the sky: 
'Tis silence all. By lonely anguish torn, 
With wandering feet to gloomy groves I fly, 
And wakeful Love still tracks my course forlorn. 

And will you, cruel Julia! will you go? 5 

And trust you to the Ocean's dark dismay? 
Shall the w^ide wat'ry world between us flow? 
And winds unpitying snatch my Hopes away? 

1 First published in 1893, from MS. Lelter, Feb. 13 [1792]. 

17 her] its W. 18 languid] waning W. 19 Hangs] Bends W. 

21-2 As slow the whisper'd measure creeps 

Along the steaming Vale. W. 
24 grows] turns W. 31 Tumults] outrage W. 32 Thou scepter'd 

Demon, War W. 35 oh] ah W. 38 chilly] flowrets' W. 


Thus could you sport with my too easy heart ? 
Yet tremble, lest not unaveng'd I grieve ! lo 

The winds may learn your own delusive art, 
And faithless Ocean smile — but to deceive ! 


Virtues and Woes alike too great for man 

In the soft tale oft claim the useless sigh ; 
For vain the attempt to realise the plan, 

On Folly's wings must Imitation fly. 
With other aim has Fielding here display 'd 5 

Each social duty and each social care ; 
With just yet vivid colouring portray'd 

What every wife should be, what many are. 
And sure the Parent^ of a race so sweet 

With double pleasure on the page shall dwell, lo 

Each scene with sympathizing breast shall meet, 

While Reason still with smiles delights to tell 
Maternal hope, that her loved progeny 
In all but sorrows shall Amelias be ! 
? 1792. 

Tho' much averse, dear Jack, to flicker, 
To find a likeness for friend V — ker, 
I've made thro' Earth, and Air, and Sea, 
A Voyage of Discovery ! 

And let me add (to ward off strife) 5 

For V — ker and for V — ker's Wife— 
She large and round beyond belief, 
A superfluity of beef ! 

1 First published in 1834. 

2 It is probable that the .-ecipieut of the Amelia was the mother of 
Coleridge's first love, Mary Evans. 

s First published in 1796, and secondly in P. and D. W., 1877-80. 
These lines, described as ' A Simile ', were sent in a letter to the Rev. George 
Coleridge, dated August 9 [1792]. The Rev. Fulwood Smerdon, the 
' Vicar ' of the original MS., succeeded the Rev. John Coleridge as vicar 
of Ottery St. Mary in 1781. He was the ' Edmund ' of ' Lines to a 
Friend', &c., vide post, pp. 74, 75. 

With Fielding's 'Amelia '—Title] Sent to Mrs. with an Amelia. MS. 0. 

lo double] doubled MS. 0. 

Written after, &c.— Title] Epistle iii. Written, &c., 1796. 
I dear Jack] at folk Letter, 1792. 2 A simile for Vicar Lelfer, 1792. 

6 For Vicar and for Vicar's wife LMer, 1792. 7 large] gross Letter, 1792. 


Hei- niintl Jiiul Ijotly t»f a i)iece, 

Ami l)oth composed of kitchen grease. lo 

111 short, Damo Triitli might safely <hil' h* r 

Vulgarity eiishrin'd in bluljber ! 

He, meagre bit of littleness, 

All sniift", and musk, and politesso ; 

So thin, that strip him of his clothing, 15 

He'd totter on the edge of Nothing ! 

In case of foe, he well might hide 

Snug in the collops of her side. 

Ah then, what simile will suit? 

Spindle-leg in great jack-boot ? 30 

Pismire crawling in a rut ? 

Or a spigot in a butt ? 

Thus I humm'd and ha'd awhile, 

When Madam Memory with a smile 

Thus twitch'd my ear — 'Why sure, I ween, 25 

In London streets thou oft hast seen 

The very image of this pair : 

A little Ape with Imge She-Bear 

Link'd by hapless chain together : 

An unlick'd mass the one — the other 30 

An antic small with nimble crupper ' 


But stop, my Muse I for here comes supper 

The stream with languid murmur creeps, 

In Lumin's flowerij vale : 
Beneath the dew the Lily weeps 

Slow- waving to the gale. 

1 First published in 179G : included in 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 
The following note was attached in 1796 and 1803 : — The flower hangs its 
[heavy] head waving at times to the gale. 'Why dost thou awake nie. 
O G.ale ? ' it seems to say, ' I am covered with the drops of Heaven. Tlie 
time of my fading is near, the blast that shall scatter my leaves. To- 
morrow shall tlje traveller come ; he that saw me in my beauty shall 
eome. His eyes will search the field, [but] they will not find me. 
So shall they search in vain for the voice of Cona, after it has failed in 
the field.' — Berrathon, see Ossian's Poems, yol. ii. [ed. 1819, p. 481]. 

12 enshrin'd] enclos'd 19 will] can Letter, I'tO'J. 23 I ha'd and 

hem'd Letter, 1792. 24 Madam] Mrs. Letter, 1792. 28 huge] large Letter, 
1792. 29 Link'd] Tied Letter, 1792. 31 small] lean Letter, 1792 : huge 

17'.)i), 1S77, ISS.'i, ISUS. For Antic huge read antic smalt ' Errata ', 179n p. [189]. 

Jmilalc'J. &<•.— Title 1 Ode .^TH. E. 


' Cease, restless gale ! ' it seems to say, 5 

' Nor wake me with thy sighing ! 
The honours of my vernal day 

On rapid wing are flying, 
' To-morrow shall the Traveller come 

Who late beheld me blooming : 10 

His searching eye shall vainly roam 

The dreary vale of Lumin.' 
With eager gaze and wetted cheek 

My wonted haunts along, 
Thus, faithful Maiden ! thou shalt seek 15 

The Youth of simplest song. 
But I along the breeze shall roll 

The voice of feeble power ; 

And dwell, the Moon-beam of thy soul, 

In Slumber's nightly hour. 20 




How long will ye round me be swelling, 
O ye blue-tumbling waves of the sea? 
Not always in caves was my dwelling. 

Nor beneath the cold blast of the tree. 
Through the high-sounding halls of Cathloma 5 

In the steps of my beauty I strayed ; 
The warriors beheld Ninathoma, 

And they blessed the white-bosom'd Maid ! 
A Ghost ! by my cavern it darted ! 

In moon-beams the Spirit was drest — 10 

1 First published in 1796 : included in 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 
These lines were included in a letter from Coleridge to Mary Evans, 
dated Feb. 7, 1793. In 1796 and 1803 the following note was attached : — 
* How long will ye roll around me, blue-tumbling waters of Ocean. My 
dwelling is not always in caves ; nor beneath the whistling tree. My 
[The] feast is spread in Torthoma's Hall, [My father delighted in my 
voice.] The youths beheld me in [the steps of] my loveliness. They blessed 
the dark-haired Ninathoma.' — Berrathon [Ossian's Poems, 1819, ii. 484]. 

lo That erst, &c. MS. E. 15 faithful] lovely MS. E. 16 simplest] 
gentle MS. E. 

The Complaint, &c.— Title] Effusion xxx. The Complaint, &c., 1796. 

5 halls] Hall Letter, 1793. 8 white-bosom'd] dark-tressed Letter, 1793, 

Between 8-9 By my friends, by my Lovei's discarded, 

Like the flower of the Rock now I waste, 
That lifts her fair head unregarded. 

And scatters its leaves on the blast. Letter, 1793. 


For lovely npi^ear tho Departed 

When they visit the dreams of my rest ! 

But disturb'd by the tempest's commotion 
Fleet the shadowy forms of delight — 

Ah cease, thou shrill blast of the Ocean ! 15 

To howl through my cavern Ijy night. 

1 7'.»;3. 


The Pixies, in the superstition of Devonsliire, arc a race of beings 
invisibly bmall, and harmless or friendly to man. At a small distance 
from a village in that county, half-way up a wood-covered hill, is an 
excavation called the Pixies' Parlour. The roots of old trees form its 
ceiling ; and on its sides are innumerable cyphers, among which the 
author discovered his own cypher and those of his brothers, cut by the 
hand of their childhood. At the foot of the hill flows the river Otter. 

To tliis place the Author, during the summer months of the year 1793, 
conducted a party of young ladies ; one of whom, of stature elegantly 
small, and of complexion colourless yet clear, was proclaimed the Faery 
Queen. On which occasion the following Irregular Ode was written. 


Whom the untaught Shepherds call 

Pixies in their madrigal, 
Fancy's children, here we dwell : 

Welcome, Ladies ! to our cell. 
Here the wren of softest note 5 

Builds its nest and warbles well ; 
Here the blackbird strains his throat ; 

Welcome, Ladies ! to our cell. 

1 First i)ublished in 1700: included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 
The Songs of the Pixies forms part of the volume of MS. Poems presented to 
Mrs. Estlin, and of a quarto MS. volume which the poet retained for 
Ills own use. 

13 disturb'd] dispers'd Letter, 1793. 

Songs of the Pixies] This preface ai^pears in all editions. Previous to 1834 
the second paragraph read: — To this place the Author conducted a party 
of young Ladies, during the Summer months of the year 1793, &c. 

The Songs of the Pixies, an irregular Ode. The lower orders of the 
people in Devonshire have a super:-,tition concerning the existence of 
'Pixies', a race of beings supposed to be invisibly small, and harmless or 
friendly to man. At a small village in the county, half-way up a Hill, is 
a large excavation called the ' Pixies' ' Parlour. The roots of the trees 
growing above it form the ceiling — and on its sides are engraved 
innumerable cyphers, among which the author descried his own and 
those of his Brothers, cut by the rude hnnd of their childhood. At the 
foot of the Hill flows the River Otter. To this place the Author had the 
Honour of conducting a party of Young Ladies during the Summer 
months, on which occasion the following Poem was written. MS. E. 



When fades the moon to shadowy-pale, 

And scuds the cloud before the gale, lo 

Ere the Morn all gem-bedight 

Hath streak'd the East with rosy light, 

We sip the furze-flower's fragrant dews 

Clad in robes of rainbow hues : 

Or sport amid the shooting gleams 15 

To the tune of distant-tinkling teams. 

While lusty Labour scouting sorrow 

Bids the Dame a glad good-morrow. 

Who jogs the accustom'd road along, 

And paces cheery to her cheering song. 20 


But not our filmy pinion 
We scorch amid the blaze of day. 
When Noontide's fiery-tressed minion 
Flashes the fervid ray. 
Aye from the sultry heat 25 

We to the cave retreat 
O'ercanopied by huge roots intertwined 
With wildest texture, blacken'd o'er with age: 
Round them their mantle green the ivies bind. 

Beneath whose foliage pale 30 

Fann'd by the unfrequent gale 
We shield us from the Tyrant's mid-day rage. 

Note. The emendations in 11. 9, 11, 12, 15, 16 are peculiar to tlie 
edition of 1834, and are, certainly, Coleridge's own handiwork. 

9 to] all .V,s'. i^, M!6. E, 179G, 1797, 1S03. 1S2S, 1829. ii Ere Morn 

with living gems bedight MS. 4", MS. E, 1796, 1797, 1808, 1828, 1829. 
12 Hath streak'd] Purples MS. 4<>, MS. E, 1796, 1828, 1829 : Streaks 1797. 
1803. rosy] streaky MS. E, 1796, 1828, 1829 : purple 1797, 180S. After 1. 14 
tJip folJou-lnr/ linos appear in MS. 4^, MS. E, 1796. 1797, 1803. 182S : 

Richer than the deepen'd bloom 

That glows on Summer's lily-scented (scented 1797, 1803'" plume. 

15 shooting] rosy MS. 4°, MS. E, 1796, 1797, 1803, 182S, 1829. 15-16 

gleam . . . team MS. 4°, MS. E, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 16 To the 

tune of] Sooth'd by the MS. 4°, MS. E, 1796, 1797, 1808, 1828, 1829. 20 

Timing to Dobbin's foot her cheery song. MS. E, MS. 4" erased. 21 

our] the MS. E. 


Thither, while the inuiniuiing throng 
Of wild-bees hum their drowsy song, 
By Indolence and Fancy brought, 35 

A youtliful Bard, ' unknown to Fame,' 
Wooes the Queen of Solemn Thought, 
And heaves the gentle misery of a sigh 
Gazing with tearful eye, 
As round our sandy grot appear 40 

Many a rudely-sculi)tur'd name 
To pensive Memory dear ! 
Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctur'd hue, 

We glance before his view : 
O'er his hush'd soul our soothing witcheries shed 45 
And twine the future garland round his head. 

When Evening's dusky car 

Crown'd with her dewy star 
Steals o'er the fading sky in shadowy flight ; 

On leaves of aspen trees 50 

We tremble to the breeze 
Veil'd from the grosser ken of mortal sight. 

Or, haply, at the visionary hour. 
Along our wildly-bower'd sequester'd walk, 
We listen to the enamour'd rustic's talk ; 55 

Heave with the heavings of the maiden's breast. 
Where young-eyed Loves have hid their turtle nest ; 

Or guide of soul-subduing power 
The glance that from the half-confessing eye 
Darts the fond question or the soft reply. 60 

35 By rapture-beaming Fancy brought MS. E, MS. 4° erased. 37 

Oft wooes MS. E : our faery garlands MS. i**, MS. E, 1796, 1797, 1S03, 182S, 

53~5 C)r at the silent visionary hour 
Along our rude sequester'd walk 
We list th' enamour'd Shepherd's talk. MS. E. 

Or at the silent MS. 4P erased. 

54 wildly-bower'd] wild 1797, 1803. 57 hid] built MS. 4«, MS. E, 

1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 58 of] with MS. E. 

59 The Electric Flash that from the melting eye, 

MS. i", MS. E, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 

60 or] and MS. E, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 


Or through the mystic ringlets of the vale 
We flash our faery feet in gamesome prank ; 
Or, silent-sandal'd, pay our defter court, 
Circling the Spirit of the Western Gale, 
Where wearied with his flower-caressing sport. 65 

Supine he slumbers on a violet bank ; 
Then with quaint music hymn the parting gleam 
By lonely Otter's sleep-persuading stream ; 
Or where his wave with loud unquiet song 
Dash'd o'er the rocky channel froths along ; 70 

Or where, his silver waters smoothed to rest. 
The tall tree's shadow sleeps upon his breast. 


Hence thou lingerer, Light ! 

Eve saddens into Night. 
Mother of wildly-working dreams ! we view 75 

The sombre hours, that round thee stand 
With down-cast eyes (a duteous band !) 
Their dark robes dripping with the heavy dew. 

Sorceress of the ebon throne ! 

Thy power the Pixies own, 80 

When round thy raven brow 

Heaven's lucent roses glow, 

61-5 Or haply in the liower-embioider'd vale 

We ply our faery feet in gamesome prank ; 

Or pay our wonted coui-t 

Circling the Spirits of the Western Gale, 

Where tir'd with vernal sport MS. E. 
63 Or in deft homage pay our silent court MS. 4° erased. 
68 70 By lonely Otter's 'peace-persuading' stream 

Or where his frothing wave with merry song 

' Dash'd o'er the rough rock lightly leaps along ' MS. E. 
68 peace-persuading stream MS. 4^ erased. 

69-70 Or where his waves with loud unquiet song 
Dash'd o'er the rocky channel froth along 

MS. 4^, 1790 ('froths' in text, 'froth ' errata). 
70 froths] froth 1828, 1829. 

75-7 Mother of wild'ring dreams thy course pursue. 
With downcast eyes around thee stand 
The sombre Hours, a duteous hand. MS. E. 

44 SOXCiS or TllK I'lXlES 

And clouds in watery colours drest 
Float in light drapery o'er thy sable vest : 
What time the pale moon sheds a softer day 85 

Mellowing the woods beneath its pensive beam : 
For mid the (piivering light 'tis ours to play, 
Aye dancing to the cadence of the stream. 


Welcome. Ladies ! to the cell 

Where the blameless Pixies dwell : 90 

But thou, Sweet Nympli ! proclaim'd our Faery Queen, 
With what obeisance meet 
Thy presence shall we greet? 
For lo ! attendant on thy steps are seen 

Graceful Ease in artless stole, 95 

And white-robed Purity of soul, 
With Honour's softer mien ; 
Mirth of the loosely-flowing hair. 
And meek-eyed Pity eloquently fair, 

Whose tearful cheeks are lovely to the view, 100 

As snow-drop wet with dew. 


Unboastful Maid ! though now the Lily pale 

Transparent grace thy beauties meek ; 
Yet ere again along the impurpling vale. 
The purpling vale and elfin-haunted grove. 105 

Young Zephyr his fresh flowers profusely throws. 

We'll tinge with livelier hues thy cheek ; 

And, haply, from the nectar-breathing Rose 

Extract a Blush for Love ! 
] 793. 

92 obedience MS. i°, 1706 : Correction made in Errata. 94 For lo ! 

around thy MS. E. 97 softer] gentler ikf,S'. E. 99 meek-eyed] 

meekest MS. E. 100 cheeks are] cheek is MS. E. 

104-5 Yet ere again the impurpled vale 
And elfin-haunted grove MS. 4°. 
104-6 Yet ere again the purpling vale 
And elfin-haunted Grove 
Young Zepliyr with fresh flowrets strews. MS. 4", MS. E. 
108 nectar-breathing] nectar-dropping JlfS. i'. 109 for] oi MS. E. 



As late each flower that sweetest blows 
I pluck'd, the Garden's pride ! 
Within the petals of a Rose 
A sleeping Love I spied. 

Around his brows a beamy wreath 5 

Of many a lucent hue ; 

All purple glow'd his cheek, beneath, 

Inebriate with dew. 

I softly seiz'd the unguarded Power, 

Nor scared his balmy rest : lo 

And placed him, caged within the flower, 

On spotless Sara's breast. 

But when unweeting of the guile 

Awoke the prisoner sweet, 

He struggled to escape awhile 15 

And stamp'd his faery feet. 

Ah I soon the soul-entrancing sight 

Subdued the impatient boy ! 

He gazed ! he thrill'd with deep delight ! 

Then clapp'd his wings for joy. 20 

1 First published in 1796, included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 
A copy of this poem is written in pencil on the blank page of Langhorne's 
Collins ; a note adds, ' This '' Effusion " and " Kisses " were addressed to 
a Miss F. Nesbitt at Plymouth, whither the author accompanied his 
eldest brother, to whom he was paying a visit, when he was twenty-one 
years of age.' In a letter to his brother George, dated July 28, 1793, 
Coleridge writes, ' presented a moss rose to a lady. Dick Hart [George 
Coleridge's brother-in-law] asked if she was not afraid to put it in her 
bosom, as, perhaps, there might be love in it. I immediately wrote the 
following little ode or song or what you please to call it. [The Rose.] 
It is of the namby-pamby genus.' Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 54. 

The Rose — Title] On presenting a moss rose to Miss F. Nesbitt. MS. 
{pencil). Effusion xxvi. 1796. 

5 beamy] lucent MS. E : lucid Letter, 1793. 6 lucent] changing 

MS. E : mingled Letter, 1793. 

12 On lovely Nesbitt's breast. MS. {penciV). 

On Angelina's breast. Letter, 1793. 
On spotless Anna's breast. MS. E. 
[Probably Anna Bucle, afterwards Mrs. Cruikshank.] 
13 But when all reckless Letter, 1793. 14 prisoner] slumberer Letter, 

1793. 16 faery] angry Letter, 1793. 


'And 01' lu» cried --'Of magic kind 

Wliat cliarnis this Throne endear ! 

Some otlier Love let Venus find — 

I'll fix my empire lierc/^ 
1 7t>;}. 


Cupid, if storying Legends tell aright, 

Once fram'd a rich Elixir of Delight. 

A Chalice o'er love-kindled flames he fix'd, 

And in it Nectar and Ambrosia mix'd : 

With these the magic dews which Evening brings, 

Briish'd from the Idalian star by faery wings : 

Each tender pledge of sacred Faith he join'd, 

Each gentler Pleasure of th' unspotted mind — 

1 Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. p. 55. 

2 First published in 1796 : included in 1797 {Supplement), 1803, and 
184-4. Three MSS. are extant, (1) as included in a letter to George 
Coleridge, Aug. 5, 1793 ; (2) as written in pencil in a copy of Langhorne's 
Colliyxs in 1793 ; (3) MS. E. Poems, 1796 (Note 7, p. 181), and footnotes 
in 1797 and 1803, supply the original Latin : 

Effinxit quondam blandum meditata laborem 

Basia lasciva Cypria Diva manu. 
Ambrosiae succos occulta temperat arte, 

Fragransque infuso nectare tingit opus. 
Sufficit et partem mellis, quod subdolus olim 

Nou impune favis surripuisset Amor. 
Decussos violae foliis admiscet odores 

Et spolia aestivis plurima rapta rosis, 
Addit et illecebras et mille et mille lepores, 

Et quot Acidalius gaudia Cestus habet. 
Ex his composuit Dea basia ; et omnia libens 

Invenias nitidae sparsa per ora Cloes. 

Carm[ina] Quad[ragesimalia], vol. ii. 

21-2 'And, 0', he cried, 'What charms refined 

This magic throne endear Xe«er, 1793, MS. E. 
23 Another Love may Letter, 1793. 

Kisses— Title] Cupid turn'd Chymist Letter, 1793, Pencil. The Compound 
MS. E : Effusion xxvi. 1796 : The Composition of a Kiss 1797 : Kisses 
1803, 1844, 1852. 

I storying] ancient Pencil. 3 Chalice] cauldron Letter, 1793. 8 

gentler] gentle Pencil. 


Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness glow. 
And Hope, the blameless parasite of Woe. lo 

The eyeless Chemist heard the process rise, 
The steamy Chalice bubbled up in sighs ; 
Sweet sounds transpired, as when the enamour'd Dove 
Pours the soft murmuring of responsive Love. 
The finished work might Envy vainly blame, 15 

And ' Kisses' was the precious Compound's name. 
With half the God his Cyprian Mother blest, 
And breath'd on Sara's lovelier lips the rest. 

Thou gentle Look, that didst my soul beguile. 

Why hast thou left me ? Still in some fond dream 
Revisit my sad heart, auspicious Smile ! 

As falls on closing flowers the lunar beam : 
What time, in sickly mood, at parting day 5 

I lay me down and think of happier years ; 

1 First published in 1796: included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 
1834. The ' four last lines ' of the Sonnet as sent to Southey, on Dee. 11, 
1794, were written by Lamb. Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. Ill, 112. 

9 Gay Dreams whose tints with beamy brightness glow. 

Letter, 1793, MS. E. 

^ Hopes the blameless parasites of Woe 
9-10 And I p^^^ ^^.^^^^ j^,^^ 

And Dreams whose tints with beamy brightness glow. 

Pencil, Bristol MS. 

11-12 With joy he view'd his chymic process rise, 

The steaming cauldron bubbled up in sighs. Letter, 1793. 

11-12 the chymic process rise. 

The steaming chalice Pencil, MS. E. 

11-12 the chymic process rise. 

The charming cauldron Bristol MS. 

14 Murmuring] murmurs Letter, 1793. 
Cooes the soft murmurs Pencil. 

15 not Envy's self could blame Letter, 1798, Pencil. 

might blame. MS. E. 

17 With part Letter, 1793, MS. E. 

18 on Nesbitt's lovely lips the rest. Letter, 1793, Pencil. 
on Mary's lovelier lips the rest. MS. E. 

on lovely Nesbitt's lovely lips the rest. Bristol MS. 

The Gentle iooA.— Title] Irregular Sonnet MS. E : Effusion xiv. 1796 
Sonnet III. 1797, 1803: Sonnet viii. 1828, 1S29, 1834: The Smile P. W 
ISSn : The Gentle Look P. W. 1893. 

I Thou] O Letter, 1794. 


Of joys, that gliinnier'd in Hope's twilight ray, 
Then left me darkling in u vale of tears. 

pleasant days of Hope — for over gone ! 

Could I recall you! — But that thought is vain. lo 

Availeth not Persuasion's sweetest tone 

To lure the fleet-wing'd Travellei-s back again : 
Yet fair, though faint, their images shall gleam 
Like the bright Rainbow on a willowy stream.^ 



Dear native Brook ! wild Streamlet of the West ! 
How many various-fated years have past, 
What happy and what mournful hours, since last 

1 skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast. 
Numbering its light leaps ! yet so deep imprest 5 
Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes 

I never shut amid the sunny ray, 
But straight with all their tints thy waters rise. 

Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey, 
And bedded sand that vein'd with various dyes 10 

Gleam'd through thy bright transparence ! On my way, 

Visions of Childhood ! oft have ye beguil'd 
Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs: 

Ah ! that once more I were a careless Child ! 


1 Compare 11. 13, 14 with 11. 13, 14 of A ana and Harland and 11. 17, 18 of 
Recollection. Vide Appendix. 

2 Lines 2-1 1 were first published in the Watchman, No. V, April 2, 
1796, as lines 17-26 of Recollection. First published, as a whole, in 
Selection of Sonnets, 1796, included in 1797, 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 
1829, and 1834. 

9 gone] tiown MS. E. 10 you] one Letter, 1794. 

13-14 Anon they haste to everlasting Night, 

Nor can a Giant's arm arrest them in their flight Letter, 1794. 
On on, &c., MS. E. 
Sonnet— Title] Sonnet No. IV. To the, &c., 1797, 1808. 
3 What blissful and what anguish'd hours Watchman, S. S., 1797, 1S08. 
7 ray] blaze Watchman, S. S., 1797, 1803. 8 thy] their S. L. Corrected 

in Errata, p. [xii]. 

9 The crossing plank, and margin's willowy maze Waichman. 

Thy crossing plank, thy margin's willowy maze 

S. S., 1797, 1803. 
II On my way] to the gaze Watchman, S. S., 1797, 1803. 14 Ah I 

that I were once more, &c. S. L. Corrected in Errata, p. [xii]. 


First Draft 


Imagination, Mistress of my Love ! 

Where shall mine Eye thy elfin haunt explore ? 

Dost thou on yon rich Cloud thy pinions bright 

Embathe in amber-glowing Floods of Light ? 

Or, wild of speed, pursue the track of Day 5 

In other worlds to hail the morning Ray? 

'Tis time to bid the faded shadowy Pleasures move 

On shadowy Memory's wings across the Soul of Love ; 

And thine o'er Winter's icy plains to fling 

Each flower, that binds the breathing Locks of Spring, 10 

When blushing, like a bride, from primrose Bower 

She starts, awaken'd by the pattering Shower ! 

Now sheds the setting Sun a purple gleam, 

Aid, lovely Sorc'ress ! aid the Poet's dream. 

With faery wand O bid my Love arise, 15 

The dewy brilliance dancing in her Eyes ; 

As erst she woke with soul-entrancing Mien 

The thrill of Joy extatic yet serene, 

When link'd with Peace I bounded o'er the Plain 

And Hope itself was all I knew of Pain I 20 

Propitious Fancy hears the votive sigh — 
The absent Maiden flashes on mine Eye ! 
When flrst the matin Bird with startling Song 
Salutes the Sun his veiling Clouds among, 

j accustom'd 
I trace her footsteps on the 1 steaming Lawn, 25 

I view her glancing in the gleams of Dawn ! 
When the bent Flower beneath the night-dew weeps 
And on the Lake the silver Lustre sleeps, 
Amid the paly Radiance soft and sad 

She meets my lonely path in moonbeams clad. 30 

With her along the streamlet's brink I rove ; 
With her I list the warblings of the Grove ; 
And seems in each low wind her voice to float, 
Lone-whispering Pity in each soothing Note ! 


As oft in climes beyond the western Main 35 

Where boundless spreads the wildly-silent Plain, 

The savage Hunter, who his drowsy frame 

Had bask'd l)eneath the Sun's unclouded Flame, 

Awakes amid the tempest-troubled air, 

The Thunder's Peal and Lightning's lurid glare— 40 

Aghast he hears the rushing Whirlwind's Sweep, 

And sad recalls the sunny hour of Sleep ! 

So lost by storms along Life's wild 'ring Way 

Mine Eye reverted views that cloudless Day, 

When. I on thy banks I joy'd to rove 45 

While Hope with kisses nurs'd the infant Love ! 

Sweet ! where Pleasure's streamlet glides 

Fann'd by soft winds to curl in mimic tides ; 

Where Mirth and Peace beguile the blameless Day ; 

And where Friendship's fixt star l^eams a mellow'd Ray ; 50 

Where Love a crown of thornless Roses wears ; 

Where soften'd Sorrow smiles wdthin her tears ; 

And Memory, with a Vestal's meek employ, 

Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of Joy ! 

No more thy Sky Larks less'ning from my sight 55 

Shall thrill th' attuned Heartstring with delight ; 

No more shall deck thy pensive Pleasures sweet 

With wreaths of sober hue my evening seat ! 

Yet dear to [My] Fancy's Eye thy varied scene 

Of Wood, Hill, Dale and sparkling Brook between : 60 

Yet sweet to [My] Fancy's Ear the warbled song. 

That soars on Morning's wing thy fields among I 

Scenes of my Hope ! the aching Eye ye leave, 
Like those rich Hues that paint the clouds of Eve ! 
Tearful and saddening with the sadden'd Blaze 65 

Mine Eye the gleam pursues with wistful Gaze — 
Sees Shades on Shades with deeper tint imi3end, 
Till chill and damp the moonless Night descend ! 




TKou wild Fancy, check thy wing ! No more 
Those thin white flakes, those i^urple clouds explore ! 
Nor there with happy spirits speed thy flight 
Bath'd in rich amber-glowing floods of light ; 

Nor in yon gleam, where slow descends the day, 5 

With western peasants hail the morning ray ! 

Ah ! rather bid the perish'd pleasures move, 

A shadowy train, across the soul of Love ! 

O'er Disappointment's wintry desert fling 

Each flower that wreath'd the dewy locks of Spring, 10 

When blushing, like a bride, from Hope's trim bower 

She leapt, awaken'd by the pattering shower. 

Now sheds the sinking Sun a deeper gleam, 

Aid, lovely Sorceress ! aid thy Poet's dream ! 

With faery wand O bid the Maid arise, 15 

Chaste Joyance dancing in her bright-blue eyes ; 

As erst when from the Muses' calm abode 

1 came, with Learning's meed not unbestowed ; 
When as she twin'd a laurel round my brow. 

And met my kiss, and half return'd my vow, 20 

O'er all my frame shot rapid my thrill'd heart, 
And every nerve confess'd the electric dart. 

dear Deceit ! I see the Maiden rise. 

Chaste Joyance dancing in her bright-blue eyes ! 

When first the lark high-soaring swells his throat, 25 

Mocks the tir'd eye, and scatters the loud note, 

1 trace her footsteps on the accustom'd lawn, 
I mark her glancing mid the gleam of dawn. 

1 First published in 1796 : included in 1797, 1808, 1828, 1829 and 1834. 
In Social Life at the English Universities, by Christopher Wordsworth, M.A., 
1874, it is I'ecorded that this poem was read by Coleridge to a party of 
college friends on November 7, 1793, 

Title] Effusion xxxvi. Written in Early Youth, The Time, An 
Autumnal Evening 1796 : Written in etc. 1803 : An Effusion on an 
Autumnal Evening. Written in Early Youth 179? {Supplement). 

A first draft, headed ' An Effusion at Evening, Written in August, 
1792 ' is included in the MS. volume presented to Mrs. Estlin in April, 
1796 (vide ante, pp. 49, 50). 

28 gleam] gleams 1796, 1797, 11803, 1898. 



When thu bent llower beneath the night-dew wteps 

And on the hike the silver histre sleeps, 30 

Amid the paly radiance soft and sad, 

She meets my lonely path in nu)on-beams clad. 

With her along the streamlet's brink 1 rove ; 

With her I list the warblings oi' the grove ; 

And seems in each low wind her voice to float 35 

Lone-whispering Pity in each sootliing note ! 

Spirits of Love ! ye heard her name ! Obey 

The powerful spell, and to my haunt repair. 

Whether on clust'ring pinions ye are there. 

Where rich snows blossom on the Myrtle-trees. ^o 

Or with fond languishment around my fair 

Sigh in the loose luxuriance of her hair ; 

heed the spell, and hither wing your way, 
Like far-off music, voyaging the breeze ! 

Spirits I to you the infant Maid was given ^5 

Form'd by the wond'rous Alchemy of Heaven ! 

No fairer Maid does Love's wide empire know, 

No fairer Maid e'er heav'd the bosom's snow. 

A thousand Loves around her forehead fly ; 

A thousand Loves sit melting in her eye ; 50 

Love lights her smile — in Joy's red nectar dips 

His myrtle flower, and plants it on her lips. 

She speaks ! and hark that passion-w^arbled song — 

Still, Fancy ! still that voice, those notes prolong. 

As sweet as when that voice with rapturous falls 55 

Shall wake the soften'd echoes of Heaven's Halls ! 

^0 (have I sigh'd) were mine the wizard's rod, 

Or mine the power of Proteus, changeful God ! 

1 Note to line 57. Poems, 17%, pp. 183-5:- I entreat the Public's 
pardon for having carelessly suffered to be printed such intolerable stuff 
as this and the thirteen following lines. They have not the merit even 
of originality : as every thought is to be found in the Greek Epigrams. 
The lines in this poem from the 27th to the 36th, I have been told are 

51-3 in Joy's bright nectar dips 

The flamy rose, and plants it on her lips ! 
Tender, serene, and all devoid of guile, 
Soft is her soul, as sleeping infants' smile. 
She speaks, &c. 1796, ISOS. 

54 still those mazy notes 1796, 1803. 

55-6 Sweet as th' angelic harps, whose rapturous falls 

Awake the sotten'd echoes of Heaven't; Halls. 1796, 1S08. 


A flower-entangled Arbour I would seem 

To shield my Love from Noontide's sultry beam : 60 

Or bloom a Myrtle, from whose od'rous boughs 

My Love might weave gay garlands for her brows. 

When Twilight stole across the fading vale, 

To fan my Love I'd be the Evening Gale ; 

Mourn in the soft folds of her swelling vest, 65 

And flutter my faint pinions on her breast ! 

On Seraph wing I'd float a Dream by night. 

To soothe my Love with shadows of delight: — 

Or soar aloft to be the Spangled Skies, 

And gaze upon her with a thousand eyes ! 70 

As when the Savage, who his drowsy frame 

Had bask'd beneath the Sun's unclouded flame, 

Awakes amid the troubles of the air, 

The skiey deluge, and white lightning's glare — 

Aghast he scours before the tempest's sweep, 75 

And sad recalls the sunny hour of sleep : — 

So tossed by storms along Life's wild'ring way, 

Mine eye reverted views that cloudless day, 

a palpable imitation of the passage from the 355th to the 370th line of the 
Pleasures of Memory Part 3. I do not perceive so striking a similarity 
between the two passages ; at all events I had written the Effusion 
several years before I had seen M"" Rogers' Poem. — It may be proper to 
remark that the tale of Florio in the ' Pleasures of Memory ' is to be 
found in Lochleven, a poem of great merit by Michael Bruce. — In 
M' Eogers' Poem* the names are Florio and Julia ; in the Lochleven 
Lomond and Levina— and this is all the difference. We seize the 
opportunity of transcribing from the Lochleven of Bruce the following 
exquisite passage, expressing the effects of a fine day on the human 

Fat on the plain, and mountain's sunny side 
Large droves of oxen and the fleecy flocks 
Feed undisturb'd ; and fill the echoing air 
With Music grateful to their [the] Master's ear. 
The Traveller stops and gazes round and round 
O'er all the plains [scenes] that animate his heart 
With mirth and music. Even the mendicant 
Bow-bent with age, that on the old gray stone 
Sole-sitting suns him in the public way, 
Feels his heart leap, and to himself he sings. 

[Poems by Michael Bruce, 1796, p. 94.] 

* For Coleridge's retractation of the charge of plagiarism and apology to 
Rogers see ' Advertisement to Supplement of 1797 ', pp. 244, 245. 

54 l.TXES 

Wlien )»y my nativt' brook I wont to rove, 

While Hope with kisses nursVl the Infant Love. 80 

Dear native brook ! like Peace, so placidly 

Smoothing through fertile fields thy current meek ! 

Dear native brook ! where first young Poesy 

Stared wildly-eagor in her noontide dream ! 

AVliere blameless pleasures dimple Quiet's cheek, 85 

As water-lilies ripple thy slow stream I 

Dear native haunts ! where Virtue still is gay, 

Where Friendship's fix'd star sheds a mellow'd ray, 

Where Love a crown of thornless Eoses wears, 

Where soften'd Sorrow smiles within her tears ; 90 

And Memory, with a Vestal's chaste employ. 

Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of joy ! 

No more your sky-larks melting from the sight 

Shall thrill the attuned heart-string with delight — 

No more shall deck your pensive Pleasures sweet 95 

With wreaths of sober liue my evening seat. 

Yet dear to Fancy's eye your varied scene 

Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook between ! 

Yet sweet to Fancy's ear the warbled song, 

That soars on Morning's wing your vales among. 100 

Scenes of my Hope ! the aching eye ye leave 
Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of eve ! 
Tearful and saddening with the sadden'd blaze 
Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze : 
Sees shades on shades ^vith deeper tint impend, 105 

Till chill and damp the moonless night descend 


To THE Editor of the 'Morning Chronicle' 

Sir, — The following poem you may perhaps deem admissible 
into your journal — if not, you will commit it ei? Upoi' jxivo's 
'Hc^ai'o-roio. — I am, with more respect and gratitude than I 
ordinarily feel for Editors of Papers, your obliged, &c., 

Cantab.— S. T. C. 

' First publislied, Morning Chronicle, Nov. 7, 1798. First collected 1893. 
86 thy] a 17UG, 1803. 


To Fortune 

On buying a Ticket in the Irish Lottery 

Composed during a walk to and from the Queen's Head, 
Gray's Inn Lane, Holborn, and Hornsby's and Co., Cornhill. 

Promptress of unnumber'd sighs, 

snatch that circling bandage from thine eyes ! 

look, and smile ! No common prayer 
Solicits, Fortune ! thy propitious care ! 

For, not a silken son of dress, 5 

1 clink the gilded chains of poJifesse, 
Nor ask thy boon what time I scheme 
Unholy Pleasure's frail and feverish dream ; 
Nor yet my view life's dazzle blinds — 

Pomp ! — Grandeur ! Power ! — I give you to the winds ! ro 
Let the little bosom cold 
Melt only at the sunbeam ray of gold — 
My pale cheeks glow — the big drops start — 
The rebel Feeling riots at my heart ! 

And if in lonely durance pent, 15 

Thy poor mite mourn a brief imprisonment — 
That mite at Sorrow's faintest sound 
Leaps from its scrip with an elastic bound ! 
But oh ! if ever song thine ear 

Might soothe, haste with fost'ring hand to rear 20 

One Flower of Hope ! At Love's behest. 
Trembling, I plac'd it in my secret breast : 
And thrice I've view'd the vernal gleam. 
Since oft mine eye, with Joy's electric beam, 
Ulum'd it — and its sadder hue 25 

Oft moisten'd with the Tear's ambrosial dew ! 
Poor wither'd floweret ! on its head 
Has dark Despair his sickly mildew shed ! 
But thou, Fortune ! canst relume 

Its deaden'd tints — and thou with hardier bloom 30 

May'st haply tinge its beauties pale, 
And yield the unsunn'd stranger to the western gale I 



TnK dufit flies sniotliorincc, as on clatt'ring wlieel 
Loath'd Aristocracy caroors along ; 
The distant track quick vibrates to the eye, 
And white and dazzling undulates with heat. 
Where scorching to the unwary traveller's touch, 5 

The stone fence flings its narrow slip of shade ; 
Or, where the worn sides of the chalky road 
Yield their scant excavations (sultry grots !), 
Emblem of languid patience, we l)ehold 
The fleecy files faint-ruminating lie. 10 



ViviT sed mihi non vivit — nova forte marita, 
Ah dolor ! alterius cara a cervice pependit. 
Vos, malefida valete accensae insomnia mentis, 
Littora amata valete ! Vale, ah ! formosa Maria ! 


With many a weary step at length I gain 
Thy summit, Bala ! and the cool breeze plays 
Cheerily round my brow — as hence the gaze 
Returns to dwell upon the journey'd plain. 

*Twas a long way and tedious ! — to the eye 5 

Tho' fair th' extended Vale, and fair to view 
The falling leaves of many a faded hue 
That eddy in the wild gust moaning by ! 

Ev'n so it far'd with Life ! in discontent 

Restless thro' Fortune's mingled scenes I went, 10 

1 First published. Letters of Samud Taylor Coleridr/e, 1895, i. 73, 74. The 
lines were sent in a letter to Southey, dated July 6, 1794. 

2 First published, Biog. Lit. 1847, Biog. Supplement, ii. 340. This 
Latin quatrain was sent in a letter to Southey, dated July 13, 1794. 

3 First published (as Coleridge's) in 1893, from an unsigned autograph 
MS. found among the Evans Papers. The lines are all but identical with 
Southey's Sonnet to Lansdown Hill (Sonnet viii), dated 1794, and 
published in 1797, and were, probably, his composition. See Athenaeum, 
Jaunary 11, 1896. 

On Bala Hill. 2 Bala] Lansdown Poem<i, 1797. 

3 Cheerily] Gratefully Poems, 1797. 


Yet wept to think they would return no more ! 
O cease fond heart ! in such sad thoughts to roam, 
For surely thou ere long shalt reach thy home. 
And pleasant is the way that lies before. 



KiCHER than Miser o'er his countless hoards, 

Nobler than Kings, or king-polluted Lords, 

Here dwelt the Man of Ross ! O Traveller, hear I 

Departed Merit claims a reverent tear. 

Friend to the friendless, to the sick man health, 5 

With generous joy he view'd his modest wealth ; 

He heard the widow's heaven-breath'd prayer of praise, 

He mark'd the shelter'd orphan's tearful gaze. 

Or where the sorrow-shrivell'd captive lay, 

Pour'd the bright blaze of Freedom's noon-tide ray. lo 

' First published in the Cambridge Intelligencer, September 27, 1794 : 
inchided in A Pedestrian Tour through North Wales. By J. Hucks, 1795, 
p. 15 : 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

In a letter to Southey dated July 13, 1794, Coleridge writes : — 'At 
Ross ... we took up our quarters at the King's Arms, once the house of 
Kyrle, the Man of Ross. I gave the window -shutter the following effusion 
— " Richer than Misers" etc' J. Hucks, in his Tour, 1795, p. 15, writes to 
the same effect. There are but slight variations in the text as printed in 
the Cambridge Intelligencer and in Hucks' To%ir. In 1796 lines 5-10 of the 
text, which were included in A Monody on the Death of Chatterton (1796), are 
omitted, and the poem numbered only fourteen lines. In 1797 lines 5-10 
were restored to the Man of Ross and omitted from the Monodg. The poem 
numbered twenty lines. In 1803 lines 5-10 were again omitted from 
the Man of Ross, but not included in the Monody. The poem numbered 
fourteen lines. The text of 1828, 1829 is almost identical with that of 1834. 

Four MS. versions are extant, (1) the Letter to Southey, July 13, 1794 : 
(2) the Estlin Copy-book : (3) the Morrison MSS. ; (4) the MS. 4" 

12 O] But Poems, 1797. 

Zmes— Title] Written . . . Mr. Kyrle, ' the Man of Ross '. MS. E. 

I Misers o'er their Letter, 1794, J. IL, MS. E, 1803. 4 the glistening 

tear Letter, 1794 : a] the J. H., MS. E. Lines 5-10 are not in MS. 4°, 1796, 
1803 : in 1797 they follow I. 14 of the text. 5 to the poor man wealth, 

Morrison MSS. 7 heard] hears 1797, 1828, 1829. 8 mark'd] marks 

1797, 1828. 9 And o'er the dowried maiden's glowing cheek, Letter, 

1794, Morrison MSS. : virgin's snowy cheek, J. H., MS. E. 10 Bade 

bridal love suffuse its blushes meek. Letter, 1794, MS. E, Morrison MSS. 
Pour'd] Pours 1797, 1828, 1829. 


Beneath this roof if tliy choorVl moments pass, 

Fill to tlie good man's name one f^rateful glass: 

To higher zest shall Memory wake thy soul, 

And Virtue mingle in the ennobled howl. 

But if, like me, through Life's distressful scene 15 

Lonely and sad thy pilgrimage hath been ; 

And if thy breast with heart-sick anguish fraught, 

Thou journeyest onward tempest-tosscnl in thought ; 

Here cheat thy cares! in generous visions melt, 

And dream of Goodness, thou hast never felt ! 20 



If while my passion I impart, 

You deem my words untrue, 
O place your hand upon my heart — 

Feel how it throbs for you ! 
Ah no I reject the thoughtless claim 5 

In pity to your Lover ! 
That thrilling touch would aid the flame 

It wishes to discover. 



Once more I sweet Stream I with slow foot wandering near, 

I bless thy milky waters cold and clear. 

Escap'd the flashing of the noontide hours. 

With one fresh garland of Pierian flowers 

(Ere from thy zephyr-haunted brink I turn) 5 

My languid hand shall wreath thy mossy urn. 

For not through pathless grove with murmur rude 

Thou soothest the sad wood-nymph. Solitude ; 

Nor thine unseen in cavern depths to well. 

The Hermit-fountain of some dripping cell I 10 

1 First published in 1790 : included in 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

2 First published in 1796 : included in Annual Register, 1790 : 1797, 1803, 
1828, 1829, and 1834. 

II If 'neath this roof thy wine cheer*d moments pass Letter, J. H., MS. 
E, MS. 4^^, 1803. 14 ennobled] sparkling Letter, 1794. 15 me] mine 1S03. 

Imitated, &c.— Title] Song MS. E : Effusion xxxi. Imitated &c., 1790. 

Line.'?— Title] Lines addressed to a Spring in Village of Kirkliampton 
near Bath MS. E. 

7 groves in murmurs MS. E. 


Pride of the Vale ! thy useful streams supply 

The scatter'd cots and peaceful hamlet nigh. 

The elfin tribe around thy friendly banks 

With infant uproar and soul-soothing pranks, 

Releas'd from school, their little hearts at rest, 15 

Launch paper navies on thy waveless breast. 

The rustic here at eve with pensive look 

Whistling lorn ditties leans upon his crook. 

Or, starting, pauses with hope-mingled dread 

To list the much-lov'd maid's accustom'd tread : 20 

She, vainly mindful of her dame's command, 

Loiters, the long-fill'd pitcher in her hand, 

Unboastful Stream ! thy fount with pebbled falls 
The faded form of past delight recalls, 

What time the morning sun of Hope arose, 25 

And all was joy ; save when another's woes 
A transient gloom upon my soul imprest, 
Like passing clouds impictur'd on thy breast. 
Life's current then ran sparkling to the noon, 
Or silvery stole beneath the pensive Moon : 30 

Ah ! now it works rude brakes and thorns among, 
Or o'er the rough rock bursts and foams along ! 



The solemn-breathing air is ended — 
Cease, O Lyre ! thy kindred lay ! 

From the poplar-branch suspended 
Glitter to the eye of Day! 

1 First published in the Watchman, No. II, March 9, 1796 : inchided in 
Literary Remains, 1836, I. 41-3. First collected in 1844. 

21-2 And now essays his simple Faith to prove 
By all the soft solicitudes of Love. MS. E. 

30 Or silver'd its smooth course beneath the Moon. MS. 4". 31 

rude] the thorny MS. 4° erased. 

For U. 29-32 But ah ! too brief in Youths' enchanting reign, 
Ere Manhood wakes th' unweeting heart to pain. 
Silent and soft thy silver waters glide : 
So glided Life, a smooth and equal Tide. 
Sad Change ! for now by choking Cares withstood 
It hardly bursts its way, a turbid, boist'rous Flood! MS. E. 

Ad Lyram — Title] Song. [Note. Imitated from Casimir.] MS. E. 

60 nriTATTONS 

On thy wiros liov'ring. dyin^. 5 

Softly si^hs tlie summer wind : 
I will slunihor, oarolpss lyinp-. 

By yon w;itprfall roclinM. 

In tlio forest hollow-roarinf]; 

Hark I I hear a deop'ninti^ sf)un(] - 10 

Clouds rise thick with heavy low'ring! 

See! tir horizon blackens round! 
Parent of the soothinj? measure, 

Let me seize tliy wetted string ! 

Swiftly flies the flatterer, Pleasure, 15 

Headlong, ever on the wing.' 


Vivamus, mea Lesbia, ntque amemus. 


My Lesbia, let us love and live. 
And to the winds, my Lesbia, give 

' If we except Lucretius and Statius, I know not of any Latin poet, 
ancient or modern, who has equalled Casimir in boldness of conception, 
opulence of fancy, or beauty of versification. The Odes of this illustrious 
.Jesuit were translated into English about 1.50 years ago, by a Thomas 
Hill, I think. [—by G. H. [C4. Hils.] London, ICAC. 12mo. Ed. L, 7?. 
1836.] I never saw the translation. A few of the Odes have been 
translated in a very animated manner by Watts. I have subjoined the 
third ode of the second book, which, with the exception of the first line, 
is an effusion of exquisite elegance. In the imitation attempted, I am 
sensible that I have destroyed the effect of suddenness, by translating into 
two stanzas what is one in thf> original. 

Ad Lyram. 
Sonori buxi Filia sutilis, 
Pendebis alta, Barbite, populo, 
Dum ridet aer, et supinas 
Solicitat levis aura frondes : 
Te sibilantis lenior halitus 
Perflabit Euri : me iuvet interim 
Collum reclinasse, et virenti 
Sic temere iacuisse ripa. 
Eheu ! serenum quae nebulae tegunt 
Repente caelum 1 quis sonus imbrium ! 
Surgamus — lieu semper fugaci 
Gaudia praeteritura passu ! 
' Advertisement' to Jd Lyram, in Watchman, II, March 9, 1700. 
2 First published in the Morninrj Post, April 11, 1798: included in 
Literary Remains, 1830, i. 274. First collected in P. W., 1893. 

To Lesbia — Title] Lines imitated from Catullus. M. P. 

•? 1794. 



Each cold restraint, each boding fear 

Of age and all her saws severe. 

Yon sun now posting to the main 6 

Will set, — but 'tis to rise again ; — 

But we, when once our mortal light 

Is set, must sleep in endless night. 

Then come, with whom alone I'll live, 

A thousand kisses take and give ! lo 

Another thousand !— to the store 

Add hundreds— then a thousand more I 

And when they to a million mount. 

Let confusion take the account, — 

That you, the number never knowing, 15 

May continue still bestowing — 

That I for joys may never pine. 

Which never can again be mine ! 


Lugete, O Veneres, Cupidinesque.— Catullus. 
Pity! mourn in plaintive tone 
The lovely starling dead and gone I 

Pity mourns in j^laintive tone 
The lovely starling dead and gone. 
Weep, ye Loves ! and Venus ! weep 5 

The lovely starling fall'n asleep! 
Venus sees with tearful eyes — 
In her lap the starling lies ! 
While the Loves all in a ring 
Softly stroke the stiffen'd wing. 10 

The hour-bell sounds, and I must go ; 
Death waits— again I hear him calling ;— 
No cowardly desires have I, 
Nor will I shun his face appalling. 
1 First publislied, Literary Remains, 1836, i. 274. First collected, P. W., 
1893. The titles ' Lesbia " and ' The Death of the Starling ' first appear 
in 1893. 

" First published in the Morning Post, May 10, 1798, with a prefatory 
note :— ' The two following verses from the French, never before published, 
were written by a French Prisoner as he was preparing to go to the 
Guillotine ' : included in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 275. First collected 
P. W., 1893. 

To Lesbia 4 her] its L. R. 7 mortal] little L. R. 18 signed 

Mortimer M. P. 

The Death &c. 7 sees] see i. R. 


I die in faith and honour rich — 5 

But all I I leave behind my treasure 
In widowhood and lonely pain ; — 
To live were surely then a pleasure I 

My lifeless eyes upon thy face 

.Shall never open more to-morrow ; 10 

To-morrow shall thy beauteous eyes 

Be closed to Love, and drown'd in Sorrow ; 

To-morrow Death shall freeze this hand, 

And on thy breast, my wedded treasure, 

I never, never more shall live;— 15 

Alas ! I quit a life of pleasure. 


Yet art thou happier far than she 
Who feels the widow's love for thee ! 
For while her days are days of weeping, 
Thou, in peace, in silence sleeping, 
In some still world, unknown, remote, 5 

The mighty parent's care hast found. 
Without whose tender guardian thought 
No sparrow falleth to the ground. 
? 17'J4. 


When Youth his faery reign began 

Ere Sorrow had proclaim'd me man ; 

While Peace the present hour beguil'd, 

And all the lovely Prospect smil'd ; 

Then Mary ! 'mid my lightsome glee 5 

I heav'd the painless Sigh for thee. 

And when, along the waves of woe. 

My harass'd Heart was doom'd to know 

The frantic burst of Outrage keen, 

And the slow Pang that gnaws unseen ; 10 

1 First published in 179G : included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 
Coleridge dated the poem, June 1794, but the verses as sent to Southey, 
in a letter dated November, 1794 {Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 100, 101), could 
not have taken shape before the August of that year, after the inception 
of Pantisocracy and his engagement to Sarah Fricker. 

The Sigh— Titlel Ode MS. E : Song Letter, Nuv. 1794, Morrison MSS. : 
Effusion xxxii : The Sigh 1706. 

7 along th'] as tossed on I8O0. .waves] wilds Letter, 1794, MS. E. 

9 of] the 1803. 


Then shipwreck'd on Life's stormy sea 

I heaved an anguish'd Sigh for thee ! 

But soon Keflection's power imprest 

A stiller sadness on my breast ; 

And sickly Hope with waning eye 15 

Was well content to droop and die : 

I yielded to the stern decree, 

Yet heav'd a languid Sigh for thee ! 

And though in distant climes to roam, 

A wanderer from my native home, 20 

I fain would soothe the sense of Care, 

And lull to sleep the Joys that were ! 

Thy Image may not banish'd be — 

Still, Mary ! still I sigh for thee. 



One kiss, dear Maid ! I said and sigh'd — 
Your scorn the little boon denied. 
Ah why refuse the blameless bliss? 
Can danger lurk within a kiss? 

Yon viewless wanderer of the vale, 5 

The Spirit of the Western Gale, 

At Morning's break, at Evening's close 

Inhales the sweetness of the Rose, 

And hovers o'er the uninjur'd bloom 

Sighing back the soft perfume. 10 

Vigour to the Zephyr's wing 

Her nectar-breathing kisses fling ; 

1 First published in 1796 : included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

13 power] hand LeUer, Nov. 1794, MS. E. 18 a] the Letter, 1794. 

21-2 I fain would woo a gentle Fair 

To soothe the aching sense of Care Letter, Nov. 1794. 
21 sense of J aching MS. E. Below I. 24 June 1794 Poems, 1796. 

The Kiss— Title] Ode MS. E : Effusion xxviii 1796: The Kiss 1797, 
1828, 1829, 1834 : To Sara 1808. MSS. of The Kiss are included in the Estlin 
volume and in S. T. C.'s quarto copy-hook. 
11-15 Vigor to his languid wing 

The Rose's fragrant kisses bring. 
And He o'er all her brighten'd hue 
Flings the glitter of the dew. 
See she bends her bashful head. MS. E. 


And He the glitter of the Dew 
Scatters on the Rose's hue. 

Bashful lo ! she hends her head, 15 

And darts a blush of deeper Red ! 
Too well those lovely lips disclose 
The triumphs of the opening Rose ; 
O fair ! O graceful ! liid them prove 
As passive to the breath of Love. ao 

In tender accents, faint and low, 
Well-pleas'd I hear the whisper'd * No ! ' 
The whispered * No ' — how little meant I 
Sweet Falsehood that endears Consent ! 
For on those lovely lips the while 25 

Dawns the soft relenting smile. 
And tempts with feign'd dissuasion coy 
The gentle violence of Joy. 
? 171)4. 



Much on my early youth I love to dwell, 

Ere yet I bade that friendly dome farewell. 

Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters pale, 

I heard of guilt and wonder'd at the tale ! 

Yet though the hours flew by on careless wing, 5 

Full heavily of Sorrow would I sing. 

Aye as the Star of Evening flung its beam 

In broken radiance on the wavy stream, 

My soul amid the pensive twilight gloom 

Mourn'd with the breeze, O Lee Bool" o'er thy tomb. 10 

1 First publislied in The Watchman^ No. I, March 1, 1796 : included in 
1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. Three MSS. are extant : (1) the 
poem as sent to Southey in a letter dated Oct. 21, 1794 v,see Letters oj 
S. T. C, 1855, i. 94, 95) ; (2) the Estlin volume ; (3) the MS. 4'' copy-book. 

2 Lee Boo, the son of Abba Thule, Prince of the Pelew Islands, came 
over to England with Captain Wilson, died of the small-pox, and is 

13-14 And He o'er all her brighten'd hue 

Sheds the glitter of the dew. MS. i" erased. 

18 The fragrant triumphs of the Rose. MS. E. 26 Dawns] 

Dawn'd MS. E. 27 And] That MS. E. 

To a Young Lady — Title] Verses addressed to a Lady with a poem 
relative to a recent event in the French Revolution MS. E. 

2 friendly] guardian MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E. 3 cloisters] 

cloister MS. E. 5 careless] rosy MS. E. 9 My pensive soul amid 

the twilight gloom MS. Letter, 1704. 10 Boo] Bo MS. E. 


Where'er I wandei'd, Pity still was near, 

Breath'd from the heart and glisten'd in the tear: 

No knell that toll'd but fill'd my anxious eye, 

And suffering Nature wept that one should die ! ^ 

Thus to sad sympathies I sooth'd my breast, 15 

Calm, as the rainbow in the weeping West : 

When slumbering Freedom roused by high Disdain 

With giant Fury burst her triple chain ! 

Fierce on her front the blasting Dog-star glow'd ; 

Her banners, like a midnight meteor, flow'd ; 20 

Amid the yelling of the storm-rent skies ! 

She came, and scatter'd battles from her eyes ! 

Then Exultation waked the patriot fire 

And swept with wild hand the Tyrtaean lyre : 

Red from the Tyrant's wound I shook the lance, 25 

And strode in joy the reeking plains of France ! 

Fallen is the Oppressor, friendless, ghastly, low. 
And my heart aches, though Mercy struck the blow. 
With wearied thought once more I seek the shade, 
Where peaceful Virtue weaves the Myrtle braid. 30 

And O ! if Eyes whose holy glances roll, 
Swift messengers, and eloquent of soul ; 

buried in Greenwich churchyard. See Keate's Account of the Polcto Islands. 

^ And suffering Nature, &c. Southey's Retrospect. 

' When eager patriots fly the news to spread 
Of glorious conquest, and of thousands dead ; 
All feel the mighty glow of victor joy — 

* **■)!•**** 

But if extended on the gory plain. 

And, snatch'd in conquest, some lov'd friend bo slain, 
Affection's tears will dim the sorrowing eye, 
And suffering Nature grieve that one should die.' 
From the Retrospect by Robert Southey, published by Dilly [1795, pp. 
9, 10]. MS. i". 

12 glisten'd] glitter'd MS. Letter, 1794. 13 anxious] anguish'd MS. 

Letter, 1794. 16 Calm] Bright ilfS. E. 17 by] with iS^y. 23 waked] 
woke MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E. 24 with wilder hand th' empassion'd lyre 
MS. Letter, 1794 : with wilder hand th' Alcaean lyre MS. i", MS. E, Watch- 
man, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 25 wound] wounds ^.S. Letter, 1794. 
27 In ghastly horror lie th' Oppressors low MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E, MS. 4", 
1796, WatcJmian. 29 With sad and wearied thought I seek the shade 
MS. E : With wearied thought I seek the amaranth shade MS. Letter, 
1794. 30 the] her MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E. 32 The eloquent messen- 
gers of the pure soul MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E, MS. 4", Watchman, 1796. 


If Smiles more winning, and a gentler Mim 
Than the love-wilder'd Maniac's brain hath seen 
Sliaping celestial forms in vacant air, 35 

If these demand the empassion'd Poet's care — 
If Mirth and soften'd Sense and Wit refined, 
Tlie Mameless features of a lovely mind ; 
Then haply shall my trembling hand assign 
No fading wreath to Beauty's saintly shrine. 40 

Nor, Sara ! thou these early flowers refuse — 
Ne'er lurk'd the snake beneath their simple hues ; 
No purple bloom the Child of Nature brings 
From Flattery's night-shade : as he feels he sings. 
Scptcjubcr 1794. 

OF wrangham's ' iiendecasyllabi ad bruntonam 


Maid of unboastful charms I whom white-robed Truth 

Eight onward guiding through the maze of youth, 

Forbade the Circe Praise to witch thy soul, 

And dash'd to earth th' intoxicating bowl : 

Thee meek-eyed Pity, eloquently fair, 6 

Clasp'd to her bosom with a mother's care ; 

And, as she lov'd thy kindred form to trace. 

The slow smile wander'd o'er her pallid face. 

For never yet did mortal voice impart 
Tones more congenial to the sadden'd heart: 10 

Whether, to rouse the sympathetic glow, 

' First published in Poems, by Francis Wrangham, London, 1795, 
pp. 79-83. First collected in P. and D. W., 1880, ii. 360* {Supplement). 

33 winning] cunning MS. Letter, 1794. 36 empassion'd] \vond'ring 

MS. Letter, 170i. 40 wreath] flowers MS. Letter, 17'Jl, MS. E. 

41-4 Nor, Brunton ! thou the blushing wreath refuse, 

Though harsh her notes, yot guileless is my Muse. 

Unwont at Flattery's Voice to plume her wings, 

A Child of Nature, as she feels she sings. MS. Letter, 1794. 

Nor ! thou the blushing wreath refuse 

Tho' harsh her song, yet guileless is the Muse. 
Unwont &c. MS. E. 

42-4 No Sei-pont lurks beneath their simple hues. 

No purple blooms from Flattery's nightshade brings, 
The Child of Nature — as he feels he sings. MS. 4° erased. 

43-4 Nature's pure Child from Flatt'ry's night-shade brings 
No blooms rich-purpling : as he feels he sings. MS. 4°. 

Below I. 44 September, 1794 1797, 1803 : September 1792 1828, 1829, 1834. 


Thou pourest lone Monimia's tale of woe ; 

Or haply clothest with funereal vest 

The bridal loves that wept in Juliet's breast. 

O'er our chill limbs the thrilling Terrors creep, 15 

Th' entranced Passions their still vigil keep ; 

While the deep sighs, responsive to the song, 

Sound through the silence of the trembling throng. 

But purer raptures lighten'd from thy face, 
And spread o'er all thy form an holier grace, 20 

When from the daughter's breasts the father drew 
The life he gave, and mix'd the big tear's dew. 
Nor was it thine th' heroic strain to roll 
With mimic feelings foreign from the soul: 
Bright in thy parent's eye we mark'd the tear; 25 

Methought he said, ' Thou art no Actress here ! 
A semblance of thyself the Grecian dame. 
And Brunton and Euphrasia still the same ! ' 

O soon to seek the city's busier scene, 
Pause thee awhile, thou chaste-eyed maid serene, 30 

Till Granta's sons from all her sacred bowers 
With grateful hand shall weave Pierian flowers 
To twine a fragrant chaplet round thy brow, 
Enchanting ministress of virtuous woe ! 



That darling of the Tragic Muse, 
When Wrangham sung her praise, 

Thalia lost her rosy hues, 
And sicken'd at her lays: 

But transient was th' unwonted sigh ; 5 

For soon the Goddess spied 
A sister-form of mirthful eye, 

And danc'd for joy and cried: 

'Meek Pity's sweetest child, proud dame, 

The fates have given to you ! 10 

Still bid your Poet boast her name ; 

I have my Brunton too.' 

1 First published in Poems, by Francis Wrangham, 1795, p. 83. First 
collected in P. and D. W., 1880, ii. 362* {Supplement). 



EuE Sin could blight or Sorrow fade, 

Death came with friendly care : 
The opening Bud to Heaven convoy'd, 

And bade it blossom there. 



No more my visionary soul shall dwell 
On joys that were ; no more endure to weigh 
The shame and anguish of the evil day, 
Wisely forgetful ! O'er the ocean swell 

1 First published in the Morning Chronicle^ September 24, 17D4 : 
included in Tht Watchman, No. IX, May 5, 1796, Poons 1796, 1797, 1803, 
1828, 1829, and 1834. These well known lines, which vexed the soul of 
Charles Lamb, were i>robably adapted from ' An Epitaph on an Infant' in 
thechurcliyardof Birchington, Kent {A Collection of Epitaphs, 1806, i. 219) : — 

All ! why so soon, just as the bloom appears, 
Drops the fair blossom in the vale of tears ? 
Death view'd the treasure in the desart given 
And claim'd the right of planting it in Heav'n. 
In MS. E a Greek version (possibly a rejected prize epigram) is 
prefixed with the accompanying footnote. 

Hkvdfs (h aiSrjv, nal St} tv voOevci tokt]€s' 
UkvOes adv fipecpoi ! toi ^paxv 5we (f>aos. 
O/J-^a fx€v eis oeo afjixa Harrjp ni/cpov iroTi^aWcL 
Evae^erjs 5e Qew baipa Zihojaiv ea ! * 
*- Translation of the Greek Epitaph. ' Thou art gone down into the 
Grave, and heavily do thy Parents feel the Loss. Thou art gone down 
into the Grave, sweet Baby ! Thy short Light is set ! Thy Father casts 
an Eye of Anguish towards thy Tomb— yet with uncomplaining Piety 
resigns to God his own Gift ! ' 

Equal or Greater simplicity marks all the writings of the Greek Poets. — 
The above [i.e. the Greek] Epitapli was written in Imitation of them. 

2 First published in the Life and Correspondence of R. Southey, 1849, i, 224. 
First collected 1852 (Notes). Southey includes the sonnet in a letter to 
his brother Thomas dated Oct. 19, 1794, and attributes the authorship 
to Coleridge's friend S. Favell, Avith whom he had been in corre- 
spondence. He had already received the sonnet in a letter from Coleridge 
(dated Sept. 18, 1794), who claims it for his own and apologizes for the 
badness of the poetry. The octave was included (11. 129-36) in the 
second version of the Monody on the Death of Chatterton, first printed in 
Lancelot Sharpe's edition of the Poems of Chatterton published at 
Cambridge in 1794. Mrs. H. N. Coleridge {Poems, 1852, p. 382) prints 
the sonnet and apologizes for the alleged plagiarism. It is difficult to 
believe that either the first eight or last six lines of the sonnet were 
not written by Coleridge. It is included in the MS. volume of Poems 
which Coleridge presented to Mrs. Estlin in 1795. The text is that of 
Letter Sept. IS, 1794. 

Pantisocracy— Title] Sonnet MS. E. i my] the MS. E. 


Sublime of Hope, I seek the cottag'd dell 5 

Where Virtue calm with careless step may stray. 
And dancing to the moonlight roundelay, 
The wizard Passions weave an holy spell. 
Eyes that have ach'd with Sorrow ! Ye shall weep 
Tears of doubt-mingled joy, like theirs who start lo 

From Precipices of distemper'd sleep, 
On which the fierce-eyed Fiends their revels keep, 
And see the rising Sun, and feel it dart 
New rays of pleasance trembling to the heart. 


Whilst pale Anxiety, corrosive Care, 

The tear of Woe, the gloom of sad Despair, 

And deepen'd Anguish generous bosoms rend ; — 
Whilst patriot souls their country's fate lament ; 
Whilst mad with rage demoniac, foul intent, 5 

Embattled legions Despots vainly send 
To arrest the immortal mind's expanding ray 

Of everlasting Truth ; — I other climes 
Where dawns, with hope serene, a brighter day 

Than e'er saw Albion in her happiest times, lo 

With mental eye exulting now explore, 

And soon with kindred minds shall haste to enjoy 

(Free from the ills which here our peace destroy) 

Content and Bliss on Transatlantic shore. 



Near the lone pile with ivy overspread. 

Fast by the rivulet's sleep-persuading sound, 

^ First published in the Co-operative Magazine and Monthhj Herald, March 
6, 1826, and reprinted in the Athenceum, Nov. 5, 1904. First collected in 
1907. It has been conjectured, but proof is wanting, that the sonnet was 
written by Coleridge. 

2 First published in the Morning Chronicle, September 23, 1794 : 
included in The Watchman, No. Ill, March 17, 1794 : in Sibylline Leaves, 
1817 : 1828, 1829, and 1834, but omitted in 1852 as of doubtful origin. 

Pantisocracy. 8 Passions weave] Passion wears Letter, Oct. 19 1794, 1852. 
9 Sorrow] anguish Letter, Oct. 19 1794, 1852. lo like tlieirs] as those 

Letter, Oct. 19 1794, 1852 : as they, MS. E. 13 feel] find Letter, Oct. 191794, 

1S52. 14 pleasance] pleasure Letter, Oct. 19 1794, 1852. 

Elegy— Title] An Elegy Morning Chronicle, Watchman. i the] yon M. C. 

70 ET.ROY 

Wliere 'sleeps tlie moonliglit ' on 3^011 verdant bed — 
O humbly press tlmt consecrated ground ! 

For there does Edmund rest, tlie learned swain ! 5 

And there his spirit most deli^lits to rove : 
Young Edmund ! fam'd for eaeli harmonious strain, 

And tlie sore wounds of i]l-re(iuited Love. 
Like some tall tree that spreads its branches wide, 

And loads the West-wind with its soft perfume, 10 

His manhood blossom'd ; till the faithless pride 

Of fair Matilda sank him to the tomb. 
But soon did righteous Heaven her Guilt pursue ! 

Where'er with wilder'd step she wander'd pale, 
Still Edmund's image rose to blast her view, 15 

Still Edmund's voice accus'd her in each gale. 
With keen regret, and conscious Guilt's alarms, 

Amid the pomp of Affluence she pined ; 
Nor all that lur'd her faith from Edmund's arms 

Could lull the wakeful horror of her mind. 20 

Go, Traveller ! tell the tale with sorrow fraught : 

Some tearful Maid perchance, or blooming Youth, 
May hold it in remembrance ; and be taught 

That Riches cannot pay for Love or Truth. 
? 1794. 


Ungrateful he, who pluck'd thee from thy stalk, 

Poor faded flow'ret ! on his careless way ; 

Inhal'd awhile thy odours on his walk, 

Then onward pass'd and left thee to decay. 

Ah ! melancholy emblem ! had I seen 5 

Thy modest beauties dew'd with Evening's gem, 

I had not rudely cropp'd thy parent stem, 

But left thee, blushing, 'mid the enliven'd green 

And now I bend me o'er thy wither'd bloom, 

The elegy as printed in the Morning Chronicle is unsigned. In Tlie 
Watchman it is signed T. 

1 First published in the Monthly Magazine, August, 1836. First collected 
in P. TF., 1893. 

6 And there his pale-eyed phantom loves to rove M. C. 10 West-wind] 
Zephyr M. C. 11 till] ere M. C. 12 Lucinda sunk M. C. 13 Guilt] 
crime M. C. 14 step] steps M. C. 17 remorse and tortur'd Guilt's M. C. 
20 Could soothe the conscious horrors of her mind M. C. horror] horrors 
The Watchman. 22 tearful] lovely M. C. 


And drop the tear — as Fancy, at my side, lo 

Deep-sighing, points the fair fi-ail Abra's tomb — 
* Like thine, sad Flower, was that poor wanderer's pride I 
Oh ! lost to Love and Truth, whose selfish joy 

Tasted her vernal sweets, but tasted to destroy ! ' 


Pale Roamer through the night ! thou poor Forlorn ! 

Remorse that man on his death-bed possess, 

Who in the credulous hour of tenderness 

Betrayed, then cast thee forth to Want and Scorn ! 

The world is pitiless: the chaste one's pride 5 

Mimic of Virtue scowls on thy distress: 

Thy Loves and they that envied thee deride : 

And Vice alone will shelter Wretchedness ! 

! I could weep to think that there should be 
Cold-bosom'd lewd ones, who endure to place 10 
Foul offerings on the shrine of Misery, 

And force from Famine the caress of Love ; 

May He shed healing on the sore disgrace, 

He, the great Comforter that rules above ! 


[from 'the fall of Robespierre', act i, l. 210] 
Tell me, on what holy ground 
May Domestic Peace be found? 
Halcyon daughter of the skies, 
Far on fearful wings she flies, 
From the pomp of Sceptered State, 5 

From the Rebel's noisy hate. 
In a cottag'd vale She dw^ells, 
Listening to the Sabbath bells ! 

1 First published in 1796 : included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 
1834. 'The first half of Effusion xv was written by the Author of 
•' Joan of Arc ", an Epic Poem.' Prefcice to Poems, 1796, p. xi. 

2 First published in the Fall of Robespierre, 1795: included (as 'Song', 
p. 13) in 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

The Outcast— Titlel Effusion xv. 179G: Sonnet vii. 1797: Sonnet vi. 
]803 : Sonnet ix. 1S2S, 1S29, and 1834 : An Unfortunate 1893. 

7 Thy kindred, when they see thee, turn aside 1803, 9 I am sad 

1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 10 Men, born of woman 1803. 

13-14 Man has no feeling for thy sore Disgrace : 

Keen blows the Blast upon the moulting Dove. 1803. 

13 the] thy 1796, 1797, 1828. 

Domestic Peace — Title] Effusion xxv. 1796. 

72 i)()i\rKS'ri(: vexck 

Still around lior steps nio soon 
Spotless Honour's meeker mien. lo 

Love, the sire of i>loasing fears, 
Sorrow smiling through her tears, 
And conscious of the past employ 
Memory, bosom-spring of joy. 
179 J. 


Tnou blecdest. my poor Heart ! and thy distress 
Reasoning I ponder with a scornful smile 
And probe thy sore wound sternly, though the while 
Swoln bo mine eye and dim with heaviness. 
Why didst thou listen to Hope's whisper bland ? 5 

Or, listening, why forget the healing tale, 
When Jealousy with feverous fancies pale 
Jarr'd thy fine fibres with a maniac's hand ? 
Faint was that Hope, and rayless ! — Yet 'twas fair 
And sooth'd with many a dream the hour of rest : 10 

Thou should'st have lov'd it most, when most opprest, 
And nurs'd it with an agony of care, 
Even as a mother her sweet infant heir 
That wan and sickly droops upon her breast ! 

Schiller! that hour I would have wish'd to die, 
If thro' the shuddering midnight I had sent 
From the dark dungeon of the Tower time-rent 
That fearful voice, a famish'd Father's cry — 

1 First published in 1796 : Selection 0/ Sonnets, Poems 1796 : in 1797, 1803, 
1828, 1829, and 1834. It was sent in a letter to Southey, dated October 
21, 1794. (Letters 0/ S. T. C, 1895, i. 92.) 

2 First published in 1796: included in Selection of Sonnets, 1796: in 
1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The following 'Note' (Note 6, pp. 
180, 181) was printed in 1796, and appears again in 1797 as a footnote, 
p. 83 : — ' One night in Winter, on leaving a College-friend's room, with 

On a Discoveiy — Title] Effusion xix. 1796 (in 'Contents' To my Heart): 
Sonnet II. On a Discovery made too late 1797, 1S03, and again in P. and D. 
W., 1877-80 : Sonnet xi. 1828, 1829, 1SS4. 
2-4 Doth Reason ponder with an anguish'd smile 

Probing thy sore wound sternly, tho' the while 
Her eye be swollen and dim with heaviness. Letter, 1794. 
6 the] its Letter, 1794. 7 feverous] feverish 179G, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 
14 wan] pale Letter, 1794. 

To the Author 0/ 'The Robbers'— Title] Effusion xx. To the Author, &c. 


Lest in some after moment aught more mean 5 

Might stamp me mortal ! A triumphant shout 

Black Horror scream'd, and all her gohlin rout 

Diminish 'd shrunk from the more withering scene ! 

Ah ! Bard tremendous in sublimity ! 

Could I behold thee in thy loftier mood 10 

Wandering at eve with finely-frenzied eye 

Beneath some vast old tempest-swinging wood ! 

Awhile with mute awe gazing I would brood : 

Then weep aloud in a wild ecstasy ! 
? 1794. 



Stretch'd on a moulder'd Abbey's broadest wall. 
Where ruining ivies propp'd the ruins steep — 

Her folded arms wrapping her tatter'd pall, 
2 Had Melancholy mus'd herself to sleep, 
whom I had supped, I carelessly took away with me "The Robbers", 
a drama, the very name of which I had never before heai-d of: — 
A Winter midnight — the wind high — and "The Robbers" for the 
first time ! — The readers of Schiller will conceive what I felt. Schiller 
introduces no supernatural beings ; yet his human beings agitate and 
astonish more than all the gohlin rout — even of Shakespeare.' See 
for another account of the midnight reading of 'The Robbers', Letter to 
Southey, November [6], 1794, Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 96, 97. 

In the Selection of Sonnets, 1796, this note was reduced to one 
sentence. 'Schiller introduces no Supernatural Beings.' In 1803 the 
note is omitted, but a footnote to line 4 is appended : ' The Father of 
Moor in the Play of the Robbers.' 

1 First published in the Morning Post, December 12, 1797 (not, as Coleridge 
says, the Morning Chronicle) ; included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 (with an 
addition), and, again, in P. and D, W., 1877-80, and (in its first shape) in 
1828, 1829, 1834, 1852, and 1893. Sent in Letter to Sotheby, Aug. 26, 1802. 

2 Bowles borrowed these lines unconsciously, I doubt not. I had 
repeated the poem on my first visit [Sept. 1797]. MS. Note, S. T. C. See, 
too. Letter, Aug. 26, 1802. [Here Melancholy on the pale crags laid, 
Might muse herself to sleep — Coomb Ellen, written September, 1798.] 

[To 'Schiller', Contents'] 1796: Sonnet viii. To the Author of 'The 
Robbers ' 179? : Sonnet xv. 1808 : Sonnet xii. To the Author of the 
Robbers 1828, 1829, 1834. 

Lines 1-4 are printed in the reverse order (4, 5, 2, 1). Selections. 
5-6 That in no after moment aught less vast 
Might stamp me human ! Selections. 
That in no after moment aught less vast 
Might stamp me mortal ! 1797, 1808. 
8 From the more with'ring scene diminish'd past. Selections, 1797, 1803. 
Melancholy, i Upon a mouldering Letter, Aug. 26, 1802. 2 Where 

ruining] Whose running M. C. propp'd] prop Letter, Aiig. 26, 1802. 

74 MELAXriloLV 

Tlio fern was press'd ))onoatli Iht hair, 
Tho (lark green Adder's Tongue ' -was thoro ; 
And still as pass'd the flagging 8ea-gale weak. 
The long lank leaf bow'd fluttering o'er her che(^k. 

That i>allid clieek was flush 'd : lior eaij^er look 
Beain'd «'lo((uent in slumber I Inly wrouu^ht, lo 

Imperfect sounds her moving lips forsook, 
And her bent forehead work'd witli troubled thought. 

Strange was the dream 




Poor little Foal of an oppressed race ! 

1 love the languid patience of thy face: 
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread. 
And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head. 

But what thy dulled spirits hath dismay 'd, 5 

That never thou dost sport along the glade ? 

^ A Plant found on old walls and in wells and mois[t] [h]edges. — It is 
often called the Hart's Tongue. M. C. Asplenium Scolopendrivm, more com- 
monly called Hart's Tongue. Letter, 1802. A botanical mistake. The plant 
I meant is called the Hart's Tongue, but this would unluckily spoil the 
poetical effect. Cedat ergo Botanice. Sibylline Leaves, 1817. A botanical 
mistake. The plant which the poet here describes is called tho Hart's 
Tongue, 1828, 1829, 1862. 

2 First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 30, 1794 : included 
in 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. A MS. version, dated October 
24, 1794 >ee P. W., 1893, pp. 477, 488), was presented by Coleridge to 
Professor William Smyth, Professor of Modern History at Cambridge, 
1807-49 ; a second version was included in a letter to Sonthey, dated 
December 17, 1794 {Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 119, 120). 

7 pass'd] came Letter, 1802. sea-gale] sea-gales M. C, Letter, 1802. 

8 The] Her Letter, 1802. g That] Her Letter, 1802. 13 Not in Letter 1802. 
13 Strange was the dream that fdl'd her soul. 

Nor did not whisp'ring spirits roll 
A mystic tumult, and a fateful rhyme, 
Mix'd with wild shapings of the unborn time ! 

M. C, Sibylline Leaves, 1817. 
To a Young Ass — Title] Monologue to a Young Jack Ass in Jesus 
Piece. Its mother near it chained to a log MS. Oct. 24, 1794 : Address to 
a Young Jack-Ass and itsTether'd mother MS. Dec. 17, 1794 : Address, &c. 
In familiar verse Morning Chronicle, Dec. 30, 1794 : Effusion xxxiii. To a 
Young Ass, &c. 1796. 

3 gentle] friendly MS. Dec. 1794, M. C. 4 pat] scratch MS. Oct. 1794, M. C. 
5 spirits] spirit MSS Oct. Dec 1794, M. C. 6 along] upon MS. Dec. 1794, M. C. 


And (most unlike the nature of things young) 

That earthward still thy moveless head is hung? 

Do thy prophetic fears anticipate, 

Meek Child of Misery ! thy future fate ? lo 

The starving meal, and all the thousand aches 

'Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes'? 

Or is thy sad heart thrill'd with filial pain 

To see thy wretched mother's shorten'd chain ? 

And truly, very piteous is her lot — 15 

Chain'd to a log within a narrow spot, 

Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen, 

While sweet around her waves the tempting green ! 

Poor Ass ! thy master should have learnt to show 

Pity— best taught by fellowship of Woe ! 20 

For much I fear me that He lives like thee, 

Half famish'd in a land of Luxury ! 

How ash'mgly its footsteps hither bend ? 

It seems to say, ' And have I then one friend ? ' 

Innocent foal ! thou poor despis'd forlorn ! 25 

I hail thee Brother — spite of the fool's scorn ! 

And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell 

Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell, 

Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride, 

And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side ! 30 

8 That still to earth thy moping head is liung MSS. Oct Lee. 1794, M. C. 
9 Doth thy prophetic soul MS. Oct. 1794. 12 Which] That MSS. 

Oct. Dec. 1794. 14 shorten'd] lengthen'd MS. Dec. 1794, M. C. 

16 within] upon MSS. Oct. Dec. 1794, M. C. 19 thy] her 1796. 21 

For much I fear, that He lives e'en as she, 179G. 23 footsteps hither 

bend] steps toward me tend MS. Oct. 1794 : steps towards me bend MS. Dec. 
1794, M. C: footsteps t'ward me bend 1796. 25 despised and forlorn MS. 
Oct. 1794. 27 would] I'd MSS. Oct. Dec. 1794. in] to MS. Oct. 1794. 

28 Of high-soul'd Pantisocracy to dwell MS. Dec. 1794, M. C. 

28 foil. Where high-soul'd Pantisocracy shall dwell ! 

Where Mirth shall tickle Plenty's ribless side,* 

And smiles from Beauty's Lip on sunbeams glide, 

Where Toil shall wed young Health that charming Lass ! 

And use his sleek cows for a looking-glass— 

Where Eats shall mess with Terriers hand-in-glove 

And Mice with Pussy's Whiskers sport in Love MS. Oct. 1794. 

* This is a truly poetical line of which the author has assured us that 
he did not mean it to have any meaning. Note by Ed. of MS. Oct. 1794. 


How thoii wouldst toss thy IiopIs in gamesomo play, 
And frisk about, as laml) or kitten gay! 
Yea ! and more musically sweet to me 
Thy dissonant harsh hray of joy would he, 
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest 35 

The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast ! 



Edmund ! thy grave with aching eye I scan, 

And inly groan for Heaven's poor outcast — Man ! 

'Tis tempest all or gloom : in early youth 

If gifted with th' Ithuriel lance of Truth 

We force to start amid her feign'd caress 5 

Vice, siren-hag ! in native ugliness ; 

A Brother's fate will haply rouse the tear. 

And on we go in heaviness and fear ! 

But if our fond hearts call to Pleasure's bower 

Some pigmy Folly in a careless hour, 10 

The faithless guest shall stamp the enchanted ground, 

And mingled forms of Misery rise around : 

Heart-fretting Fear, with pallid look aghast, 

That courts the future woe to hide the past; 

Remorse, the poison'd arrow in his side, 15 

And loud lewd Mirth, to Anguish close allied: 

1 First published in 1796 : included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 
1834. Four MS. versions are extant, (1) in Letter to Southey, Nov. [6], 
1794 {Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 98, 99) : (2) in letter to George Coleridge, 
Nov. 6, 1794 : (3) in the Estlin copy-book : (4) in the MS. 4". The Friend 
was the Rev. Fulwood Smerdon, vicar of Ottery St. Mary, who died in 
August 1794. 

35-6 Than Handel's softest airs that soothe to rest 

The tumult of a scoundrel Monarch's Breast. MS. Oct. 1794. 
Than BantVs warbled airs that sooth to rest 
The tumult &c. MS. Dec. 1794. 
36 The tumult of some Scoundrel Monarch's breast. M. C. 179G. 

Lines on a Friend— Title] On the Death of a Friend who died of a Frenzy 
Fever brought on by anxiety MS. E. 

I — ! thy grave MS. Letter to R. S. : Smerdon ! thy grave MS. Letter to 
G. C. 3 early] earliest MS. Letters to K. S. atid G. C, MS. E. 5 We] He 
MS. Letters to R. S. and G. 0., MS. E, MS. 4^, 1796. 7 will] shall MS. Letters 
to R. S. and 0. C, MS. E. 8 And on he goes MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C, 
MS. E, 1796: Onward we move 180S. 9 his fond lieart MS. Letters to R. S. 
and G. C, MS. E, 1796. ii quick stamps MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C, 

MS. E, MS. 4". 12 threaten round MS. Letters to R. S. and 0. C. 


Till Frenzy, fierce-eyed child of moping Pain, 

Darts her hot lightning-flash athwart the brain. 

Eest, injur "d shade ! Shall Slander squatting near 

Spit her cold venom in a dead man's ear? 20 

'Twas thine to feel the sympathetic glow 

In Merit's joy, and Poverty's meek woe ; 

Thine all, that cheer the moment as it flies, 

The zoneless Cares, and smiling Courtesies. 

Nurs'd in thy heart the firmer Virtues grew, 25 

And in thy heart they wither'd I Such chill dew 

Wan Indolence on each young blossom shed ; 

And Vanity her filmy net-work spread, 

With eye that roll'd around in asking gaze. 

And tongue that traffick'd in the trade of praise. 30 

Thy follies such ! the hard world mark'd them well ! 

Were they more wise, the Proud who never fell ? 

Rest, injur'd shade ! the poor man's grateful prayer 

On heaven-ward wing thy wounded soul shall bear. 

As oft at twilight gloom thy grave I pass, 35 

And sit me down upon its recent grass. 

With introverted eye I contemplate 

Similitude of soul, perhaps of — Fate ! 

To me hath Heaven with bounteous hand assign'd 

Energic Reason and a shaping mind, 40 

The daring ken of Truth, the Patriot's part, 

And Pity's sigh, that breathes the gentle heart — 

Sloth-jaundic'd all ! and from my graspless hand 

Drop Friendship's precious pearls, like hour-glass sand. 

I weep, yet stoop not ! the faint anguish flows, 45 

A dreamy pang in Morning's feverous doze. 

Is this piled earth our Being's passless mound ? 
Tell me, cold grave ! is Death with poppies crown'd ? 

17 fierce-eyed] frantic MS. Letters to E. S. and G. C, MS. E erased [See 
Lamb'S Letter to Coleridge, June 10, 1796]. 19 squatting] couching MS. 

Letter to G. C, MS. E [See Lamb's Letter, June 10, 1796]. 23 cheer] cheers 
MS. E. 25 firmer] generous MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C. : manly MS. E. 
29 roll'd] prowl'd MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C, MS. E. 

33-4 the poor man's prayer of praise 

On heavenward wing thy wounded soul shall raise. 1796. 

35 As oft in Fancy's thought MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C. 39 

bounteous] liberal MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C, MS. E. 41 ^*^^] 

soul MS. Letter to R. S. 46 feverous] feverish all MSS. and Eds. 179G- 

1829. 47 this] that MS. Letters to R. S. and G. C, MS. E. passless] 

hapless Letter to G, C. 


Tinnl Sf^ntinel ! mid fitful starts I nod, 

And fain would sleep, thoUL,di pillowed on a clod ! 50 


[Charles Lamb J 


Thus far my scanty brain hath built the rhyme 

Elaborate and swelling : yet the heart 

Not owns it. From thy spirit-breathing powers 

I ask not now, my friend ! the aiding verse, 

Tedious to thee, and from thy anxious thought 5 

Of dissonant mood. In fancy (well I know) 

From business wandering far and local cares, 

Thou creepest round a dear-lov'd Sister's bed 

With noiseless step, and watchest the faint look, 

Soothing each pang w^ith fond solicitude, 10 

And tenderest tones medicinal of love. 

I too a Sister had, an only Sister — 

She lov'd me dearly, and I doted on her ! 

To her I pour'd forth all my puny sorrows 

(As a sick Patient in a Nurse's arms) 15 

And of the heart those hidden maladies 

That e'en from Friendship's eye will shrink asham'd. 

1 First published in 179G : included in 1797, 1803, and, again, in 1844. 
Lines 12-19 ^' I too a sister . . . Because she was not ') are published in 1834 
(i. 35) under the heading * The Same ', i. e. the same as the preceding poem, 
' On seeing a Youth affectionately welcomed by a Sister.' The date, 
December 1794, affixed in 1797 and 1803, is correct. The poem was sent 
in a letter from Coleridge to Southej', dated December 1794. {Letters of 
S. T. C, 1895, i. 128.) The 'Unfinished Poem' was, certainly, Reliyiovs 
Musings, begun on Christmas Eve, 1794. The text is that of 1844. 

49 Sentinel] Centinel all MSS. and Eds. 1796-1829. mid] with 

Letters to R. S. and G. C. Below I. 50 the date (November 1794) is affixed 

in 1796, 1797, and 1S03. 

To a Friend— Title] To C. Lamb MS, Letter, Dec. 1794 : Effusion xxii. To 
a Friend, &c. 1796 : To Charles Lamb with an unfinished Poem lS4i. 
1-3 Thus far my sterile brain hath fram'd the song 
Elaborate and swelling : but the heart 
Not owns it. From thy spirit-breathing power 

MS. Letter, Dec. 1794. 
7 Not in MS. Letter, Dec. 1794. 
Between 13 and 14 On her soft busom I reposed my cares 

And gain'd for every wound a healing tear. 

MS. Letter, 1794. 
15 a] his MS. Letter, 1794, 1796, 1797, 1803. 17 That shrink asham'd 

from even Friendship's eye. MS. Letter, 1794, 1796, 1797. 


! I have wak'd at midnight, and have wept, 
Because she was not ! — Cheerily, dear Charles ! 
Thou tliy best friend shalt cherish many a year : 20 

Such warm presages feel I of high Hoi)e. 
For not uninterested the dear Maid 
I've view'd — her soul affectionate yet wise, 
Her polish'd wit as mild as lambent glories 
That play around a sainted infant's head. 25 

He knows (the Spirit that in secret sees, 
Of whose omniscient and all-spreading Love 
Aught to implore ^ were impotence of mind) 
That my mute thoughts are sad before his throne, 
Prepar'd, when he his healing ray vouchsafes, 30 

Thanksgiving to pour forth with lifted heart, 
And praise Him Gracious with a Brother's Joy ! 



[The Sonnets were introduced by the following letter : — 
*Mr. Editor — If, Sir, the following Poems will not disgrace your 
poetical department, I will transmit you a series of Sonnets (as it is the 
fashion to call them) addressed like these to eminent Contemporaries. 
'Jesus College, Cambridge.' S. T. C] 


When British Freedom for an happier land 

Spread her broad wings, that flutter'd with affright, 
Erskine ! thy voice she heard, and paus'd her flight 

Sublime of hope, for dreadless thou didst stand 
^ I utterly recant the sentiment contained in the lines — 
' Of whose omniscient and all-spreading Love 
Aught to iynplore were impotence of mind,' 

it being written in Scripture, *Ask, and it shall be given you,' and my 

human reason being moreover convinced of the propriety of offering 

petitions as well as thanksgivings to Deity. [Note of S. T. C, in Poems, 

1797 and 1803.] 

^ First published in the Morniny Chronicle, Dec. 1, 1794 : included in 

1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

i8 wak'd] woke MS. Letter, 17'Ji, 1796, 1797, 1808. 21 warm] high : 

high] warm MS. Letter, 1794. presages] presagings 1S03. 25 sainted] 

holy MS. Letter, 1794. 26 that] who MS. Letter, 1794. 31 To pour forth 
thanksgiving MS. Letter, 1794, 1790, 1797, 1803. 

To the Honourable Mr. Erskine— Title'] Effusion y. 1796 : Sonnet x. 1803: 
Sonnet iv. 1828, 1829, 1884. 

4 for dreadless] where fearless M. C. Dec. 1, 1794. 


(Thy ceiibt'i- flowing witli tho hallowM lluiuo) 5 

A hiroless Priest befori' the insulted slii-iiie, 
And at \wv altur pour tlie stream divine 
Of unniatch'd eloquence. Therefore thy name 
Her sons shall venerate, and cheer thy breast 

With blessings heaven-ward breath'd. And win 11 tin- (1(K)1ii 
Of Nature bids thee die, beyond the tomb ji 

Thy light shall shine: as sunk beneath the West 

Though the great Summer Sun eludes our gaze, 
Still burns wide Heaven with his distended blaze. *^* 
Dccevibcr 1, 1794. 
*^* ' Our elegant correspoiident will liiglily giatify every reader of taste 
l)y the continuance of liis exquisitely beautiful productions. No. II. 
bliall appear on an early day.' 


As late I lay in Slumber's shadowy vale, 

With wetted cheek and in a mourner's guise, 
I saw tlie sainted form of Freedom rise : 
She spake! not sadder moans the autumnal gale — 
' Great Son of Genius ! sweet to me thy name, 5 

Ere in an evil hour with alter'd voice 
Thou bad'st Oppression's hireling crew rejoice 
Blasting with wizard spell my laurelFd fame. 
' Yet never, Burke I thou drank'st Corruption's bowl ! ^ 

Thee stormy Pity and the cherish'd lure 10 

^ First publislied in the Morning Chronicle, Dec. 9, 1794 : included in 
1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. This Sonnet was sent in a letter to 
Southey, dated December 11, 1794. LetUrs of S. T. C, 1895, i. 118. 
2 Yet never, Burke ! thou dran'kst Corruption's bowl ! 
When I composed this line, I had not read the following paragraph in 
the Cambridge Intelligencer (of Saturday, November 21, 1795) : — 

* When Mr. Burke fird croased over the House of Commons from the Opposiiion to 
the Ministry, he received a pensio)t of £1200 a year charged on the Kings Privy Purse. 
When he had completed his labours, it was then a question what recom- 

6 A] An M. C, 1796-1S08, 1828, 1829. the insulted] her injur'd M. C. 

7 pour] pour'dst M. C, 1706, 1S03. 8 unmatch'd] matchless M. C. 

10 With heav'n-breath'd blessings ; and, when late the doom M. C. n 
die] rise 1803. 

13-14 Though the great Sun not meets our wistful gaze 
Still glows wide Heaven M. C. 

Below 1. 14 Jesus College Cambridge M. C. 

Burke— Title] Effusion ii. 1796 : Sonnet vii. 1S03 : Sonnet ii. 1S2S, 
1829, 1834. 

I As late I roam'd through Fancy's shadowy vale MS, Letter, Dec. 11, 1794. 
4 She] He MS. Letiei, 1794. 


Of Pomp, and proud Precipitance of soul 
Wilder'd with meteor fires. Ah Spirit pure ! 
'That Error's mist had left thy purged eye: 
So might I clasp thee with a Mother's joy ! ' 
December 9, 1794. 


Though rous'd by that dark Vizir Riot rude 

Have driven our Priestley o'er the Ocean swell ; 
Though Superstition and her wolfish brood 

Bay his mild radiance, impotent and fell ; 

Calm in his halls of brightness he shall dwell ! 5 

For lo ! Religion at his strong behest 
Starts with mild anger from the Papal spell, 

And flings to Earth her tinsel-glittering vest, 

Her mitred State and cumbrous Pomp unholy; 

And Justice wakes to bid th' Oppressor wail 10 

Insulting aye the wrongs of patient Folly ; 

And from her dark retreat by Wisdom won 

pense his service deserved. Mr. Burke wanting a present supply of 
money, it was thought that a pension of £2000 per annum for forty xjears 
certain, would sell for eighteen years' purchase, and bring him of course 
£36,000. But this pension must, by the very unfortunate act, of which 
Mr. Burke was himself the author, have come before Parliament. 
Instead of this Mr. Pitt suggested the idea of a pension of £2000 a year 
for three lives, to be charged on the King's Revenue of the West India 
41 per cents. This was tried at the market, but it was found that it 
would not produce the £36,000 which were wanted. In consequence of 
this a pension of £2500 per annum, for three lives on the 4| West India 
Fund, the lives to be nominated by Mr. Burke, that he may accommodate 
the purchasers is finally granted to this disinterested patriot. He lias 
thus retir'd from the trade of politics, with pensions to the amount of 
£3700 a year.' 1796, Note, pp. 177-9. 

1 First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 11, 179-4 : included 
in 1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. In all editions prior to 1852, 
'Priestley' is spelled 'Priestly'. The Sonnet was sent to Southey in 
a letter dated December 17, 1794. 

12 Urg'd on with wild'ring fires MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794, M. C. Below 

L 14 Jesus College M. C. 

Priestley— Title] Effusion iv. 1796 : Sonnet ix. 180S : Sonnet iii. 1828, 
1829, 1834. 

1-2 Tho' king-bred rage with lawless uproar rude 
Hath driv'n M. C. 
Tho' king-bred rage with lawless tumult rude 
Have driv'n MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794. 
7 Disdainful rouses from the Papal spell, M. C, MS. Letter, 1794. 1 1 
That ground th' ensnared soul of patient Folly. M. C, MS. Letter, 1794. 


Meek Nature slowly lifts her matron veil 
To smile with fondness on her pjazin^ Son ! 
December 1 1. 1701. 



As when far off the warbled strains are heard 
That soar on Morning's wing the vales among ; 
Within his cage the imprison'd Matin Bird 

Swells tlie full chorus with a generous song : 

He bathes no pinion in the dewy light, 5 

No Father's joy, no Lover's bliss he shares, 
Yet still the rising radiance cheers his sight — 

His fellows' Freedom soothes the Captive's cares ! 

Thou, Fayette! who didst wake with startling voice 
Life's better Sun from that long wintry night, lo 

Thus in thy Country's triumphs shalt rejoice 

And mock with raptures high the Dungeon's might : 

For lo ! the Morning struggles into Day, 

And Slavery's spectres shriek and vanish from the ray ! 

*^* The above beautiful sonnet was written antecedently to the joyful 
account of the Patriot's escape from the Tyrant's Dungeon. [Note in M. C] 


WHAT a loud and fearful shriek was there. 

As though a thousand souls one death-groan pour'd ! 
Ah me ! they saw beneath a Hireling's sword 

Their Koskiusko fall ! Through the swart air 

^ First published in the Morning Chronicle, Dicember 15, 1794 : included 
in 1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

2 First published in tlie Morning Chronicle, December IG, 1794 : included 
in 1796, 1828, 1829, 1834. The Sonnet was sent to Southey in a letter 
dated December 17, 1794. Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 117. 

La Faijette — Title] Effusion ix. 1796: Sonnet xiii. 1803: Sonnet vii. 
1828, 1829, 1834. 

i<:osA:zMsA;o— Title] Effusion viii. 179G : Sonnet vi. 1S2S, 1829, 1834. 

3-4 Great Kosciusko 'neath an hireling's sword 

The warriors view'd ! Hark ! through the list'ning air 

MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794. 
Great Kosciusko 'neath an Hireling's sword 
His country view'd. Hark through the list'ning air M. C. 
All me ! they view'd beneath an hireling's sword 
Fall'n Kosciusko ! Thro' the burtliened air 1796, 1828, 1829. 


(As pfiuses the tir'd Cossac's barbarous yell 5 

Of Triumph) on the chill and midnight gale 
Rises with frantic burst or sadder swell 
The dirge of murder'd Hope ! while Freedom pale 
Bends in such anguish o'er her destin'd bier, 

As if from eldest time some Spirit meek 10 

Had gather'd in a mystic urn each tear 
That ever on a Patriot's furrow'd cheek 
Fit channel found ; and she had drain'd the bowl 
In the mere wilfulness, and sick despair of soul ! 
December 16, 1794. 

VI ' 

Not always should the Tear's ambrosial dew 
Roll its soft anguish down thy furrow'd cheek ! 
Not always heaven-breath'd tones of Suppliance meek 
Beseem thee, Mercy ! Yon dark Scowler view. 
Who with proud words of dear-lov'd Freedom came — 5 
More blasting than the mildew from the South I 
And kiss'd his country with Iscariot mouth 
(Ah ! foul apostate from his Father's fame !) ^ 
Then fix'd her on the Cross of deep distress, 

And at safe distance marks the thirsty Lance 10 

Pierce her big side ! But O ! if some strange trance 
The eye-lids of thy stern-brow'd Sister^ press, 

1 First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 23, 1794, and, 
secondly, in The Watchman, No. V, April 2, 1796 ; included in 1796, 1803, 
and in 1852, with the following note : — ' This Sonnet, and the ninth, to 
Stanhope, were among the pieces withdrawn from the second edition of 
1797. They reappeared in the edition of 1803, and were again with- 
drawn in 1828, solely, it may be presumed, on account of their political 
vehemence. They will excite no angry feelings, and lead to no misappre- 
hensions now, and as they are fully equal to their companions in poetical 
merit, the Editors have not scrupled to reproduce them. These Sonnets 
were originally entitled "Effusions ".' 

2 Earl of Chatham. ^ Justice. 

5 As] When M. C, MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794. 8 The • dirge of Murder'd 
Hope ' MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1794. 12 That ever furrow'd a sad Patriot's cheek 
MS. Letter, 1794, M. C, 1796. 

13-14 And she had drench'd the sorrows of the bowl 

E'en till she reel'd intoxicate of soul MS. Letter, 1794, M. C. 
And she had drain'd the sorrows of the bowl 
E'en till she reel'd, &c. 1796. 
Pitt—Title'\ Effusion iii. 1796: To Mercy Watchman: Sonnet viii. 1S03: 
Sonnet iii. isrj2. 
8 Staining most foul a Godlike Father's name M. C, Watchman. 


84 SONNETS ON KMTNF.N'I' ( 'l[.\K.\OTKl^S 

Seize, Mercy! tlioii iiion- t('iril)l(' Die hiaiid, 13 

And hurl ht>r tliunderboltb with liercer hand ! 
December 23, 171>4. 

VII ^ 



DEfEMRER 20, 1 79 I | 

Mv heart has thank'd thee, Boavles ! for tliose soft strains, 
That, on the still air floating, tremblingly 
Wak'd in me Fancy, Love, and Sympathy ! 

For hence, not callous to a Brother's pains 

Thro' Youth's gay prime and thornless paths I went ; 5 

And, when the darlccr day of life Ijep^an, 
And I did roam, a thought-bewilder'd man ! 

Thy kindred Lays an healing solace lent. 

Each lonely pang with dreamy joys combin'd. 

And stole from vain Reoret her scorpion stings; 10 

While shadowy Pleasure, with mysterious wings. 

Brooded the wavy and tumultuous mind, 

Like that great Spirit, w^ho wdth plastic sw^eep 
Mov'd on the darkness of the formless Deep ! 

^ First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 26, 1794. First 
collected, P. and D. W., 1877, i. 138. The sonnet was sent in a letter to 
Southey, dated December 11, 1794. Letters ofS. T. C, 1895, i. 111. 

2 Author of Sonnets and other Poems, published by Dilly. To Mr. Bowles's 
poetry I have always thought the following remarks from Maximus 
Tyrius peculiarly applicable: — 'I am not now treating of that poetiy 
which is estimated by the pleasure it affords to the ear — the ear having 
been corrupted, and the judgment-seat of the perceptions ; but of that 
which proceeds from the intellectual Helicon, that which is dignified, and 
appertaining to human feelings, and entering into the soul.' — The 13th 
Sonnet for exquisite delicacy of painting; the 19th for tender simplicity ; 
and the 25th for manly pathos, are compositions of, perhaps, unrivalled 
merit. Yet while I am selecting these, I almost accuse myself of cause- 
less partiality ; for surely never was a writer so equal in excellence ! — 
S, T. C. [In this note as it first appeared in the Morning Chronicle a Greek 
sentence preceded the supposed English translation. It is not to be 
found in the Dissertations of Maximus Tyrius, but the following passage 
which, for verbal similitudes, may be compared with others (e. g. 20, 8, 
p. 243 : 21, 3, p. 247 ; 28, 3, p. 336 is to be found in Davies and Markland's 
edition (Lips. 1725), vol. ii, p. 203 : — Ov rl roi Xt^co ttjv hi avXwv Kal dbwv 
Kol x^p^^ '^^t ipaXfjLaTpov, dviv \6yov (nl ttj Jpvxjt lovcrau, to) Ttpirvw t^? a,KOTj<: 
riixriOiiaav . . . ttji/ aXrjOfj Kal (k rov 'EXikcovos p-ovaav, . . .] 

13 Seize thou more terrible th' avenging brand M. C. 

To the Rev. W. L. Bowles -3 Wak'dJ Woke MS. Letter, Dec 11, 1794. 


[second version]^ 

My heart has thank'cl thee, Bowles ! for those soft strains 
Whose sadness soothes me, like the murmuring 
Of wild-bees in the sunny showers of spring ! 

For hence not callous to the mourner's pains 

Through Youth's gay prime and thornless paths I went: 5 
And when the mightier Throes of mind began, 
And drove me forth, a thought-bewilder'd man, 

Their mild and manliest melancholy lent 

A mingled charm, such as the pang consign'd 

To slumber, though the big tear it renew'd ; 10 

Bidding a strange mysterious Pleasure brood 

Over the wavy and tumultuous mind, 

As the great Spirit erst with plastic sweep 
Mov'd on the darkness of the unform'd deep. 


As when a child on some long Winter's night 
Affrighted clinging to its Grandam's knees 
With eager wond'ring and perturb'd delight 

Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees 

1 First published in 1796 : included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1884. 

2 First published in the Morning Chronicle, December 29, 1791, under 
the signature, S. T. C. : included in 179G (as C. L.'s) and in 1797 as 
Charles Lamb's, but reassigned to Coleridge in 1803. First collected, 
P. and D. W., 1877, i. 140, 141. This sonnet may have been altered by 
Coleridge, but was no doubt written by Lamb and given by him to 
Coleridge to make up his tale of sonnets for the Morni)ig Chronicle. In 
1796 and 1797 Coleridge acknowledged the sonnet to be Lamb's ; but in 
1803, Lamb, who was seeing that volume througli the press, once more 
handed it over to Coleridge. 

To the Rev. W. L. Boioles {Second Fej'siow;— Title] Eifusion i. 1796 : 
Sonnet i. 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, 1884. 

6-7 And when the darker day of life began 
And I did roam, &c. 1796, 1797, 1803. 

9 such as] which oft 1797, 1803. 11 a] such 1797, 1803. 

13-14 As made the soul enamour'd of her woe : 

No common praise, dear Bard ! to thee I owe. 1797, 1803. 

Mrs. Siddons — Title] Effusion vii. 1796 : Sonnet viii. 1797, p. 224 : Sonnet 
xii. 1803. 

4 dark tales of fearful strange decrees M. C. 


Mutlor'd to wretcli by iiecioiuiintic ^[)v\\ ; 
Or of those Imgs, who jvt i\w \vitchin<; liiiio 
Of murky Midnight ride the air sublime, 

And mingle foul embrace with fiends of Hell : 

Cold Horror drinks its l)l«)od ! Anon the tear 
More gentle starts, to hear the Beldame tell 
Of pretty Babes, that lov'd each other dear. 

Murder'd by cruel Uncle's mandate fell : 

Even such the shiv'ring joys thy tones impart, 
Even so thou, Siddons ! meltest my sad heart ! 

December 29, 171)4. 


AUTHOR OF 'political JUSTICE' 

form'd t' illume a sunless world forlorn, 
As o'er the chill and dusky brow of Night, 
In Finland's wintry skies the Mimic Morn ^ 

Electric pours a stream of rosy light, 

Pleas'd I have mark'd Oppression, terror-pale, 5 

Since, thro' the windings of her dark machine, 
Thy steady eye has shot its glances keen — 

And bade th' All-lovely ' scenes at distance hail '. 

Nor will I not thy holy guidance bless, 

And hymn thee, Godwin ! with an ardent lay ; 10 

For that thy voice, in Passion's stormy day. 

When wild I roam'd the bleak Heath of Distress, 

Bade the bright form of Justice meet my way— 
And told me that her name was Happiness. 
Januai-y 10, 1795. 

1 First published in the Morn'mg Chronicle, January 10, 1795. First 
collected, P. and D. W., 1877, i. 143. The last six lines were sent in 
a letter to Southey, dated December 17, 1794. Letters of S. T. C, 1895, 
i. 117. 

^ Aurora Borealis. 

Mrs. Siddons— 6 Of Warlock Hags that M. C. 




SouTHEY ! thy melodies steal o'er mine ear 
Like far-off joyance, or the murmuring 
Of wild bees in the sunny showers of Spring — 

Sounds of such mingled import as may cheer 

The lonely breast, yet rouse a mindful tear: 5 

Wak'd by the Song doth Hope-born Fancy fling 
Rich showers of dewy fragrance from her wing, 

Till sickly Passion's drooping Myrtles sear 

Blossom anew ! But ! more thrilFd, I prize 

Thy sadder strains, that bid in Memory's Dream 10 

The faded forms of past Delight arise ; 

Then soft, on Love's pale cheek, the tearful gleam 

Of Pleasure smiles — as faint yet beauteous lies 
The imag'd Rainbow on a willowy stream. 
January 14, 1795. 

XI 2 


It was some Spirit, Sheridan ! that breath'd 

O'er thy young mind such wildly-various power ! 

1 First published in the Morning Chronicle, January 14, 1795. First 
collected, P. and D. W., 1877, i. 142. This sonnet was sent in a letter to 
Southey, dated December 17, 1794. Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 120. 

2 First published in the Morning Chronicle, January 29, 1795 : included 
in 1796, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. Two MS. versions are extant ; one 
in a letter to Southey, dated December 9, 1794 {Letters of S. T. C, 1895, 

To R. B. Sheridan— Title] To Sheridan MS. E : Effusion vi. 1796 : Sonnet 
xi. 1808 : Sonnet v. 1828, 1829, 1834. 

1-5 Some winged Genius, Sheridan ! imbreath'd 
His various influence on thy natal hour : 
My fancy bodies forth the Guardian power, 
His temples with Hymettian flowrets wreath 'd 
And sweet his voice MS. Letter, Dec. 9, 1794. 

1-2 Was it some Spirit, Sheridan 1 that breath'd 
His various &c. M, C. 

1-3 Some winged Genius, Sheridan I imbreath'd 
O'er thy young Soul a wildly-various power 1 
My Fancy meets thee in her shaping hour MS. E. 


My soul hath mark\] thee in her sliai)in<jf liour, 
Thy toniples with Ilymettian ' llow'rets wreathM : 

And sweet thy voice, us when o'er Lauka's bier 5 

Sad Music trembled thro' Vauclusa's glade ; 
Sweet, as at dawn the love-lorn Serenade 

Tliat wafts st)ft dreams to Slumijek's listening ear. 

Now patriot Kago and Indignation liigh 

Swell the full tones! And now thine eye-beams dance 10 
Meanings of Scorn and Wit's quaint revelry ! 

Writhes inly from the bosom-probing glance 

The Apostate by the brainless rout ador'd, 
As erst that elder Fiend beneath great Michael's sword. 
Jannanj 29, 1795. 

i. 118), and a second in the Estlin copy-book. In 1796 a note to lino 4 
was included in Notes, p. 179, and in 1797 and 1803 affixed as a footnote, 
p. 95 : — •' Hymettian Flowrets. Hymottus, a mountain near Atliens, cele- 
brated for its honey. This alludes to Mr. Sheridan's classical attainments, 
and the following four lines to the exquisite sweetness and almost Italian 
delicacy of his poetry. In Shakespeare's Lover's Complaint there is a fine 
stanza almost prophetically characteristic of Mr. Sheridan. 
So on the tip of his subduing tongue 
All kind of argument and question deep, 
All replication prompt and reason strong 
For his advantage still did wake and sleep^ 
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep : 
He liad the dialect and different skill 
Catching all passions in his craft of will ; 
That he did in the general bosom reign 
Of young and old.' 
^ Hymettus, a mountain of Attica famous for honey. M. C. 

8 wafts] bears MS. Letter, 1794, M. C, MS. E. 9 Rage] Zeal MS. Letter 
179i, MS. E, M. C. 10 thine] his Letter, 1794, M. C. 

12 While inly writhes from the Soul-probing glance M. C. 

12-14 fh' Apostate by the brainless rout ador'd 

Writhes inly from the bosom-probing glance 
As erst that nobler Fiend MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E. 

14 elder] other M. C. 


['morning CHRONICLE,' JAN. 31, 1795 J 

Stanhope ! I hail, with ardent Hjann, thy name ! 
Thou shalt be bless'd and lov'd, when in the dust 
Thy corse shall moulder— Patriot pure and just ! 

And o'er thy tomb the grateful hand of Fame 

Shall grave: — 'Here sleeps the Friend of Humankind!' 5 

For thou, untainted by Corruption's bowl, 

Or foul Ambition, with undaunted soul 
Hast spoke the language of a Free-born mind 

Pleading the cause of Nature ! Still pursue 

Thy path of Honour !— To thy Country true, 10 

Still watch th' expiring flame of Liberty ! 

Patriot ! still pursue thy virtuous way, 

As holds his course the splendid Orb of Day, 
Or thro' the stormy or the tranquil sky ! 

One of the People. 

to earl stanhope- 

Not, Stanhope ! with the Patriot's doubtful name 
I mock thy worth — Friend of the Human Race ! 
Since scorning Faction's low and partial aim 

Aloof thou wendest in thy stately pace. 

Thyself redeeming from that leprous stain, 5 

Nobility: and aye unterrify'd 
Pourest thine Abdiel warnings on the train 

That sit complotting with rebellious pride 

1 First collected in 1893. Mr. Campbell assigned the authorship of 
the Sonnet to Coleridge, taking it to be * the original of the one to 
Stanhope printed in the Poems of 1796 and 1803'. For 'Corruption's 
bowl ' (1. 6) see Sonnet to Burke, line 9 {ante, p. 80), 

2 First published in 1796 : included in 1803, in Cottle's Early llec. i. 203, 
and in Rom. 1848, p. 111. First collected in 1852. 

To Earl Stanhope— Tii\ii'\ Effusion x. 17d(j (To Earl Stanhope Contents) 
Sonnet xvi. 1808 : Sonnet ix. 1852. 


'Gainst i/cv' who from the Ahiiighty's hosoni leapt 

With whirlwind arm, lierce Minister of Love ! lo 

Wherefore, ore Virtue o er thy tom}> hath wept, 

Angels shall load thee to the Throne above : 

And thoii from forth its clouds shalt hear the voice, 
Champion of Freedom and her God ! rejoice ! 



Away, those cloudy looks, that labouring sigh, 
The peevish offspring of a sickly hour ! 
Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's power, 
When the blind Gamester throws a luckless die. 

Yon setting Sun flashes a mournful gleam 5 

Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train : 
To-morrow shall the many-colour'd main 
In brightness roll beneath his orient beam ! 

Wild, as the autumnal gust, the hand of Time 
Flies o'er his mystic lyre: in shadowy dance 10 

The alternate groups of Joy and Grief advance 
Responsive to his varying strains sublime ! 

Bears on its wing each hour a load of Fate ; 
The swain, who, luU'd by Seine's mild murmurs, led 
His weary oxen to their nightly shed, 15 

To-day may rule a tempest-troubled State. 

Nor shall not Fortune with a vengeful smile 

Survey the sanguinary Despot's might, 

And haply hurl the Pageant from his height 

Unwept to wander in some savage isle. 20 

There shiv'ring sad beneath the tempest's frown 
Round his tir'd limbs to wrap the purple vest ; 
And mix'd with nails and beads, an equal jest ! 
Barter for food, the jewels of his crown. 
? 1795. 

1 Gallic Liberty. 

2 First published in 1796 : included in 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

Lines, &c.— Title] Epistle II. To a Friend, &c. 1796 : To a Friend, &c. 




Ah ! cease thy tears and sobs, my little Life ! 

I did but snatch away the unclasp'd knife: 

Some safer toy will soon arrest thine eye, 

And to quick laughter change this peevish cry ! 

Poor stumbler on the rocky coast of Woe, 6 

Tutor'd by Pain each source of pain to know ! 

Alike the foodful fruit and scorching fire 

Awake thy eager grasp and young desire ; 

Alike the Good, the 111 offend thy sight, 

And rouse the stormy sense of shrill Affright ! lo 

Untaught, yet wise ! mid all thy brief alarms 

Thou closely clingest to thy Mother's arms, 

Nestling thy little face in that fond breast 

Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest ! 

Man's breathing Miniature I thou mak'st me sigh — 15 

A Babe art thou — and such a Thing am I ! 

To anger rapid and as soon appeas'd, 

For trifles mourning and by trifles pleas'd, 

Break Friendship's mirror with a tetchy blow, 

Yet snatch what coals of fire on Pleasure's altar glow! 20 

thou that rearest wdth celestial aim 
The future Seraph in my mortal frame, 

1 First published in 1796 : included in 1797 (Supplement), 1808, 1828, 
1829, and 1834. A MS. version numbering IG lines is included in the 
Estlin volume. 

To an Infant — Title] Effusion xxxiv. To an Infant 1796. 

i-io How yon sweet Child my Bosom's grief beguiles 
With soul-subduing Eloquence of smiles ! 
Ah lovely Babe ! in thee myself I scan — 
Thou weepest ! sure those Tears proclaim thee Man ! 
And now some glitt'ring Toy arrests thine eye, 
And to quick laughter turns the peevish cry. 
Poor Stumbler on the rocky coast of Woe, 
Tutor'd by Pain the source of Pain to know ! 
Alike the foodful Fruit and scorching Fire 
Awake thy eager grasp and young desire ; 
Alike the Good, the 111 thy aching sight 
Scare with the keen Emotions of Affright ! MS. E. 

8-1 1 Or rouse thy screams, or wake thy young desire: 
Yet art thou wise, for mid thy brief alarms 1707. 

9-10 om. 1707. 14 Whose kindly Heavings lull thy cares to Rest 

IIS. E. 19 tetchy] fretful 1797. 


Thrico holy Fiiitli ! whatever thorns I moot 
As on 1 totter with unpnictis'd feet, 

Still let nie stretch my .arms and clin^ to thee, 25 

Meek nurse of souls through their long Infancy ! 

TO THE REV. W. J. HOllT ^ 


IIusii ! ye clamorous Cares ! be mute ! 

Again, dear Harmonist ! again 
Thro' the hollow of thy flute 

Breathe that passion-warbled strain : 
Till Memory each form shall bring 5 

The loveliest of her shadowy throng ; 
And Hope, that soars on sky-lark wing, 
Carol wild her gladdest song ! 
skill'd with magic spell to roll 

The thrilling tones, that concentrate the soul ! 10 

Breathe thro' thy flute those tender notes again, 
While near thee sits the chaste-eyed Maiden mild ; 
And bid her raise the Poet's kindred strain 
In soft impassion'd voice, correctly wild 
In Freedom's undivided dell, 15 

Where Toil and Health with mellow'd Love shall dwell, 
Far from folly, far from men, 
In the rude romantic glen. 
Up the cliff, and thro' the glade. 

Wandering with the dear-lov'd maid, 30 

I shall listen to the lay. 
And ponder on thee far away 
Still, as she bids those thrilling notes aspire 
(' Making my fond attuned heart her lyre '), 
Thy honour'd form, my Friend! shall reappear, 25 

And I will thank thee with a raptur'd tear. 

^ First publiijlicd in 1790, and again in 18G3. 

To the Rev. W. J. i/oj<— Title] To the Rev. W. J. H. wliile Teaching, 
&c. 1796, 1S63. 
24 her] his ISiiS. 



Sweet Mercy ! how my very heart has bled 

To see thee, poor Old Man ! and thy grey hairs 
Hoar with the snowy blast: while no one cares 

To clothe thy shrivell'd limbs and palsied head. 

My Father ! throw away this tatter'd vest 5 

That mocks thy shivering! take my garment -use 
A young man's arm ! I'll melt these frozen dews 

That hang from thy white beard and numb thy breast. 

My Sara too shall tend thee, like a child : 

And thou shalt talk, in our fireside's recess, lo 

Of purple Pride, that scowls on Wretchedness — 

He did not so, the Galilaean mild. 

Who met the Lazars turn'd from rich men's doors 
And call'd them Friends, and heal'd their noisome sores ! 


Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel ! 
How many Bards in city garret pent, 
While at their window they with downward eye 
Mark the faint lamp-beam on the kennell'd mud, 
And listen to the drowsy cry of Watchmen 5 

(Those hoarse unfeather'd Nightingales of Time !), 
How many wretched Bards address ihy name, 
And hers, the full-orb'd Queen that shines above. 
But I do hear thee, and the high bough mark. 
Within whose mild moon-mellow'd foliage hid lo 

Thou warblest sad thy pity-pleading strains. 
O ! I have listen'd, till my working soul, 
Waked by those strains to thousand phantasies, 
Absorb'd hath ceas'd to listen ! Therefore oft, 
I hymn thy name: and with a proud delight 15 

^ First publislied in 1796 : included in Selection of Sonnets, Poems 1796, 

in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

2 First published in 1796 : included in 1803 and in Lit. Rem., i. 38. 

First collected in 1844. 

Pity — Title] Effusion xvi. 1796 {Co7itenls~To an Old Man): Sonnet vi. 
1797 : Sonnet v. 1803 : Sonnet x. 1828, 1829, 1834 : Charity 1893. 

7 arm] arms 1796, 1828. 

12-14 He did not scowl, the Galilaean mild. 

Who mot the Lazar turn'd from rich man's doors, 

And call'd him Friend, and wept upon his sores. 1797, 1803. 

13 men's] man's 1796, Selection of Sonnets, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 

To the Nightingale —TiUe'] Effusion xxiii. To the, &c. 1796. 

12 have I 1796. 

94 TO Tl{E \I(;}fTIN(iALE 

Oft will I tell tliee, Miiistrol of tlio Moon ! 

* Most musical, most melancholy ' Bird ! 

That all thy soft diversities of tone, 

Tho' sweeter far than the delicious airs 

That vibrate from a white-arm'd Lady's har]), 20 

What time the languishment of lonely love 

Melts in her eye, and heaves her breast of snow. 

Are not so sweet as is the voice of her, 

My Sara — best beloved of human kind ! 

When breathing the pure soul of tenderness, 25 

She thrills me with the Husband's promis'd name ! 



With many a pause and oft reverted eye 

I climb the Coomb's ascent : sweet songsters near 

Warble in shade their wild-wood melody : 

Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soothes my ear. 

Up scour the startling stragglers of the flock 5 

That on green plots o'er precipices browze : 

From the deep fissures of the naked rock 

The Yew-tree bursts ! Beneath its dark green boughs 

(Mid which the May-thorn blends its blossoms white) 

Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats, 10 

1 rest: — and now have gain'd the topmost site. 
Ah ! what a luxury of landscape meets 

My gaze ! Proud towers, and Cots more dear to me, 
Elm-shadow'd Fields, and prospect-bounding Sea ! 
Deep sighs my lonely heart : I drop the tear : 1 5 

Enchanting spot I w^ere my Sara here ! 


Peace, that on a lilied bank dost love 
To rest thine head beneath an Olive- Tree, 

1 would that from the pinions of thy Dove 

' First published in 1796 : inchided in 1797 {Supplement), 1803, 1828, 
1829, and 1834. 

2 First published in 1796 : included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

Lines composed, &.C. —Title'] Effusion xxi. Composed while climbing the 
Left Ascent of Brockley Coomb, in the County of Somerset, May 1795 
1796 : Sonnet v. Composed, &c. 1797 : Sonnet xiv. Composed, &c. ISOS. 

7 deep] forc'd 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 

Lines m the Manner, &c. — Title] Effusion xxiv. In the. &c. 179G : In the. 
&c. 1797. 


One quill withouten pain ypluck'd might be ! 

For O ! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee, 5 

And fain to her some soothing song would write, 

Lest she resent my rude discourtesy. 

Who vow'd to meet her ere the morning light, 

But broke my plighted word — ah ! false and recreant wight ! 

Last night as I my weary head did pillow lo 

With thoughts of my dissever'd Fair engross'd, 

Chill Fancy droop'd wreathing herself wdth willow, 

As though my breast entomb'd a pining ghost. 

*From some blest couch, young Rapture's bridal boast, 

Rejected Slumber ! hither ^ving thy way ; 15 

But leave me with the matin hour, at most ! 

As night-clos'd floweret to the orient ray. 

My sad heart will expand, when I the Maid survey.' 

But Love, who heard the silence of my thought, 

Contriv'd a too successful wile, I ween : 20 

And whisper'd to himself, with malice fraught — 

* Too long our Slave the Damsel's smiles hath seen : 

To-morrow shall he ken her alter'd mien ! ' 

He spake, and ambush'd lay, till on my bed 

The morning shot her dewy glances keen, 25 

When as I 'gan to lift my drowsy head — 

*Now, Bard! I'll work thee woe!' the laughing Elfin said. 

Sleep, softly-breathing God ! his downy wing 

Was fluttering now, as quickly to depart ; 

When twang'd an arrow from Love's mystic string, 30 

With pathless wound it pierc'd him to the heart. 

Was there some magic in the Elfin's dart? 

Or did he strike my couch with wizard lance? 

For straight so fair a Form did upwards start 

(No fairer deck'd the bowers of old Romance) 35 

That Sleep enamour'd grew, nor mov'd from his sweet trance ! 

My Sara came, with gentlest look divine ; 

Bright shone her eye, yet tender was its beam : 

I felt the pressure of her lip to mine ! 

Whispering we went, and Love was all our theme — 40 

Love pure and spotless, as at first, I deem. 

He sprang from Heaven ! Such joys with Sleep did 'bide, 

That I the living Image of my Dream 

17 Like snowdrop opening to the solar ray, i7.9C. 19 ' heard the 

silence of my thought ' 1797, 1808. 26 to lift] uplift 1797, 1S08. 


Fondly forp^ot. Too late I woke, and .sigli'd - 
*0! how shall I behold my Love at eventide!' 45 



[Composed during Illness, and in Absence.) 

Dim Hour ! that sleep'st on pillowing clouds afar, 
O rise and yoke the Turtles to thy car ! 
Bend o'er the traces, blame each lingering: Dove, 
And give me to the bosom of my Love ! 
My gentle Love, caressing and carest, 5 

With heaving heart shall cradle me to rest ! 
Shed the warm tear-drop from her smiling eyes, 
Lull with fond woo, and medicine me \vith sighs ! 
While finely-flushing float her kisses meek. 
Like melted rubies, o'er my pallid cheek. 10 

Chill'd by the night, the drooping Eose of May 
Mourns the long absence of the lovely Day ; 
Young Day returning at her promis'd hour 
Weeps o'er the sorrows of her favourite Flower ; 
Weeps the soft dew, the balmy gale she sighs, 15 

And darts a trembling lustre from her eyes. 
New life and joy th' expanding flow'ret feels : 
His pitying Mistress mourns, and mourning heals ! 



Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems better 

Receiv'd from absent friend by way of Letter. 

For what so sweet can labour'd lays impart 

As one rude rhyme Avarm from a friendly heart? — Anon. 

^ First published in The Watchman, No. Ill, March 9, 1796 (signed C.) : 
included in 1797, 1803, 1844, and 1852. It was first reprinted, after 1803, 
in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 43, under 'the sportive title " Darwiniana ", 
on the supposition that it was written * in half-mockery of Darwin's style 
with its dulda vitia. (See 1852, Notes, p. 885.) 

2 First published in 1796 : included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

Below I. 45 July 1795 1797, 1S03. 

The Hour, &c.— Title] Darwiniana. The Hour, &c. L. R, 1844 : Composed 
during illness and absence 1852. 

9-10 om. 1803. 14 her] the Lit. Rem., 1844, 1852. 17 New] Now 


Lines written, &c. — Title] Epistle I. Lines written, &c. The motto is 
printed on the reverse of the half-title 'Poetical Epistles ' [pp. 109, 110], 


Nor travels my meandering eye 
The starry wilderness on high ; 

Nor now with curious sight 
I mark the glow-worm, as I pass, 
Move with ' green radiance ' ^ through the grass, 5 

An emerald of light. 

ever present to my view ! 
My wafted spirit is with you, 

And soothes your boding fears: 

1 see you all oppressed with gloom 10 
Sit lonely in that cheerless room — 

Ah me ! You are in tears I 
Beloved Woman ! did you fly 
Chill'd Friendship's dark disliking eye, 

Or Mirth's untimely din? 15 

With cruel weight these trifles press 
A temper sore with tenderness. 

When aches the void within. 
But why with sable wand unblessed 
Should Fancy rouse within my breast 20 

Dim-visag'd shapes of Dread? 
Untenanting its beauteous clay 
My Sara's soul has wing'd its way, 

And hovers round my head ! 

^ The expression ' green radiance ' is borrowed from Mr. Wordsworth, 
a Poet whose versification is occasionally harsh and his diction too 
frequently obscure ; but whom I deem unrivalled among the writers of 
the present day in manly sentiment, novel imagery, and vivid colouring. 
Note, 1796, p. 185 : Footnote, 1797, p. 88. 

[The phrase 'green radiance' occurs in An Evening Walk, 11. 264-8, 
first published in 1793, and reprinted in 1820. In 1836 the lines 
were omitted. 

Oft has she taught them on her lap to play 
Delighted with the glow-worm's harmless ray, 
Toss'd light from hand to hand ; while on the ground 
Small circles of green radiance gleam around.] 

1796 : Ode to Sara, written at Shurton Bars, &c. 1797, 1803. The motto 
is omitted in 1797, 1803 : The motto is prefixed to the poem in 1828, 1829, 
and 1834:. In 1797 and 1803 a note is appended to the title : — Note. The 
first stanza alludes to a Passage in the Letter. [The allusions to a ' Passage in 
the Letter ' must surely be contained not in the first but in the second 
and third stanzas. The reference is, no doubt, to the alienation from 
Southey, which must have led to a difference of feeling between the two 
sisters Sarah and Edith Fricker.] 


I felt it prompt tlie tender Dream, 25 

When slowly sank the day's last gleam ; 

You rous'd each gentler sense, 
As sighing o'er the Blossom's bloom 
Meek Evening wakes its soft perfume 

With viewless influence. 30 

And hark, my Love ! The sea-breeze moans 
Through yon reft house ! O'er rolling stones 

In bold ambitious sweep 
The onward-surging tides supply 
The silence of the cloudless sky 35 

With mimic thunders deep. 
Dark reddening from the channell'd Isle ^ 
(Where stands one solitary pile 

Unslated by the blast) 
The Watchfire, like a sullen star 40 

Twinkles to many a dozing Tar 

Rude cradled on the mast. 
Even there — beneath that light-house tower — 
In the tumultuous evil hour 

Ere Peace with Sara came, 45 

Time was, I should have thought it sweet 
To count the echoings of my feet, 

And watch the storm-vex*d flame. 
And there in black soul-jaundic'd fit 
A sad gloom-pamper'd Man to sit, 5° 

And listen to the roar: 
When mountain surges bellowing deep 
With an uncouth monster-leap 

Plung'd foaming on the shore. 
Then by the lightning's blaze to mark 55 

Some toiling tempest-shatter'd bark ; 

Her vain distress-guns hear ; 
And when a second sheet of light 
Flash'd o'er the blackness of the night — 

To see no vessel there ! 60 

But Fancy now more gaily sings ; 
Or if awhile she droop her wings. 

As skylarks 'mid the corn, 

1 The Holmes, in the Bristol Channel. 

a6 sank] sunk 1796-1829. 33 With broad impetuous 1797, 1803. 

34 fast-encroaching 1797, 1808. 48 storm-vex'd] troubled 1797, 1803. 

49 black and jaundic'd fit 1797. 


On summer fields she grounds her breast : 
The oblivious poppy o'er her nest 65 

Nods, till returning morn. 

O mark those smiling tears, that swell 
The open'd rose ! From heaven they fell, 

And with the sun-beam blend. 
Blest visitations from above, 70 

Such are the tender woes of Love 

Fostering the heart they bend ! 

When stormy Midnight howling round 
Beats on our roof with clattering sound, 

To me your arms you'll stretch : 75 

Great God ! you'll say — To us so kind, 

shelter from this loud bleak wind 
The houseless, friendless wretch ! 

The tears that tremble down your cheek. 

Shall bathe my kisses chaste and meek 80 

In Pity's dew divine ; 
And from your heart the sighs that steal 
Shall make your rising bosom feel 

The answering swell of mine ! 

How oft, my Love ! with shapings sweet 85 

1 paint the moment, we shall meet ! 
With eager speed I dart — 

I seize you in the vacant air, 
And fancy, with a husband's care 

I press you to my heart ! 90 

'Tis said, in Summer's evening hour 
Flashes the golden-colour'd flower 
A fair electric flame:* 

1 Light /rom plants. In Sweden a very curious phenomenon has been 
observed on certain flowers, by M. Haggern, lecturer in natural history. 
One evening he perceived a faint flash of light repeatedly dart from 
a marigold. Surprised at sucli an uncommon appearance, he resolved 
to examine it with attention ; and, to be assured it was no deception of 
the eye, he placed a man near him, with orders to make a signal at the 
moment when he observed the light. They both saw it constantly at the 
same moment. 

The light was most brilliant on marigolds of an orange or flame colour ; 
but scarcely visible on pale ones. The flash was frequently seen on the 
same flower two or three times in quick succession ; but more commonly 
at intervals of several minutes ; and when several flowers in the same 



And so shall flash my love-charg'cl eye 
When all the heart's big ecstasy 95 

Shoots rapid through the frame ! 



My pensive Sara ! thy soft cheek reclined 

Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is 

To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o ergrown 

With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd Myrtle, 

(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love I) 5 

And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light, 

Slow saddening round, and mark the star of eve 

Serenely brilliant (such should Wisdom be) 

Shine opposite ! How exquisite the scents 

Snatch'd from yon bean-field ! and the world so hush'd ! 10 

The stilly murmur of the distant Sea 

Tells us of silence. 

And that simplest Lute, 
Placed length-ways in the clasping casement, hark ! 

place emitted their light together, it could be observed at a considerable 

This phenomenon was remarked in the months oi July and August at 
sun-set, and for half an hour when the atmosphere was clear ; but after 
a rainy day, or when the air was loaded with vapours nothing of it was 

The following flowers emitted flashes, more or less vivid, in this order : — 

1. The marigold, galendula [.sic] offichialis. 

2. Monk's-hood, tropaelum \_sic] majiifi. 

3. The orange -lily, Uliuin bulbiferum. 

4. The Indian pink, tagetes patula et erecta. 

From the rapidity of the flash, and other circumstances, it may be 
conjectured that there is something of electricity in this phenomenon. 
Notes to Poems, 1796. Note 13, pp. 186, 188. 

In 1797 the above was printed as a footnote on pp. 93, 94. In 1803 the 
last stanza, lines 91-96, was omitted, and, of course, the note disappeared. 
In 1828, 1829, and 1834 the last stanza was replaced but the note was not 

^ First published in 1796 : included in 1797, 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 
1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

The Eolian Harp— Title] Effusion xxxv. Composed August 20th, 1795, 
At Clevedon, Somersetshire 1796 : Composed at Clevedon Somersetshire 
1797, 1803 : The Eolian Harp. Composed, &c. S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834. 

5 07n. 1803. 8 om. 1803. 11 Hark ! the still murmur 1803. 12 

Aud th' Eolian Lute, 1803. 13 om. 1803. 


How by the desultory breeze caress'd, 

Like some coy maid half yielding to her lover, 15 

It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs 

Tempt to repeat the wrong ! And now, its strings 

Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes 

Over delicious surges sink and rise, 

Such a soft floating witchery of sound 20 

As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve 

Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land, 

Where Melodies round honey-dropping flowers, 

Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise, 

Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untam'd wing ! 25 

O ! the one Life within us and abroad, 

Which meets all motion and becomes its soul, 

A light in sound, a sound-like power in light. 

Rhythm in all thought, and joyance every where — 

Methinks, it should have been impossible 30 

Not to love all things in a world so fill'd ; 

Where the breeze warbles, and the mute still air 

Is Music slumbering on her instrument. 

And thus, my Love ! as on the midway slope 
Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon, 35 

Whilst through my half-clos'd eye-lids I behold 
The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main, 
And tranquil muse upon tranquillity ; 
Full many a thought uncall'd and undetain'd, 
And many idle flitting phantasies, 4° 

16 upbraiding] upbraidings 1796, 1797, 180S, Sibylline Leaves, 1817. Lines 

21-33 are om. in 1808, and the text reads : 

Such a soft floating witchery of sound — 
Methinks, it should have been impossible 
Not to love all things in a World like this. 
Where e'en the Breezes of the simple Air 
Possess the power and Spirit of Melody ! 
And thus, my Love, &c. 
26-33 are not in 1796, 1797. In Sibijlline Learces, for lines 26-33 0^ ^^^ 

text, four lines are inserted : 

Methinks it should have been impossible 
Not to love all things in a world like this. 
Where even the breezes, and the common air. 
Contain the power and spirit of Harmony. 
Lines 26-33 were first included in the text in 1828, and reappeared in 

1829 ^nd 1884. They are supplied in the Errata, pp. [xi, xii], of Sibylline 

Leaves, with a single variant (1. 33) : Is Music slumbering on its 



Traverse my indolent and passive ])rain, 
As wild and various as tlie random gales 
That swell and flutter on this su])ject Lute I 

And what if all of animated nature 
Be but organic Harps diversely fram'd, 45 

That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps 
Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, 
At once the Soul of each, and God of all? 

But thy more serious eye a mild reproof 
Darts, O beloved Woman ! nor such thoughts 50 

Dim and unhallow'd dost thou not reject. 
And biddest me walk humbly with my God. 
Meek Daughter in the family of Christ I 
Well hast thou said and holily disprais'd 
These shapings of the unregenerate mind ; 55 

Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break 
On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring. 
For never guiltless may I speak of him, 
The Incomprehensible ! save when with awe 
I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels ; ^ 60 

Who with his saving mercies healed me, 
A sinful and most miserable man, 
Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess 
Peace, and this Cot, and thee, heart-honour'd Maid ! 


[Joseph Cottle] 
published anonymously at bristol in september 1795 
Unboastful Bard ! whose verse concise yet clear 
Tunes to smooth melody unconquor'd sense, 

1 L'athee n'est point a mes yeux un faux esprit ; je puis vivre avec lui 
aussi bien et mieux qu'avec le devot, car il raisonne davantage, mais il 
lui manque un sens, et mon ame ne se fond point entierement avec la 
sienne : il est froid au spectacle le plus ravissant, et il cherche un 
syllogisme lorsque je rends une [un 1797, 1S03'] action de grace. ' Appel 
a I'impartiale posterite ', par la Citoyenne Roland, troisieme partie, p. 67. 
Notes to Poems. Note 10, 1796, p. 183. The above was printed as a foot- 
note to p. 99, 1797, and to p. 132, 1803. 

2 First published in 1796 : included in 1797 {Supplement), 1803, and 

44 And] Or 1796, 1797, 1808. 64 dear honoured Maid 189S. 

To the Author of Poems— Title] Epistle iv. To the Author, &c. 1796 : 
Lines to Joseph Cottle 1797 : To the Author, &c., icith footnote, ' Mr. 
Joseph Cottle ' 1803. 

I Unboastful Bard] My honored friend 1797. 


May your fame fadeless live, as ' never-sere ' 

The Ivy wreathes yon Oak, whose broad defence 

Embowers me from Noon's sultry influence ! 5 

For, like that nameless Rivulet stealing by. 

Your modest verse to musing Quiet dear 

Is rich with tints heaven-borrow'd : the charm'd eye 

Shall gaze undazzled there, and love the soften'd sky. 

Circling the base of the Poetic mount 10 

A stream there is, which rolls in lazy flow 

Its coal-black waters from Oblivion's fount: 

The vapour-poison'd Birds, that fly too low. 

Fall with dead swoop, and to the bottom go. 

Escaped that heavy stream on pinion fleet 15 

Beneath the Mountain's lofty-frowning brow. 

Ere aught of perilous ascent 3^ou meet, 

A mead of mildest charm delays th' unlabouring feet. 

Not there the cloud-climb'd rock, sublime and vast, 
That like some giant king, o'er-glooms the hill ; 20 

Nor there the Pine-grove to the midnight blast 
Makes solemn music I But th' unceasing rill 
To the soft Wren or Lark's descending trill 
Murmurs sweet undersong 'mid jasmin bowers. 
In this same pleasant meadow, at your will 25 

I ween, you wander'd — there collecting flowers 
Of sober tint, and herbs of med'cinable powers ! 

There for the monarch-murder'd Soldier's tomb 
You wove th' unfinish'd ^ wreath of saddest hues ; 
And to that holier^ chaplet added bloom 30 

Besprinkling it with Jordan's cleansing dews. 

But lo your Henderson'^ awakes the Muse 

His Spirit beckon'd from the mountain's height ! 
You left the plain and soar'd mid richer views ! 

' The first in order of the verses which I have thus endeavoured to 
reprieve from immediate oblivion was originally addressed ''To the 
Author of Poems published anonymously at Bristol ". A second edition 
of these poems has lately appeared with the Author's name prefixed : and 
I could not refuse myself the gratification of seeing the name of that man 
among my poems without whose kindness they would probably have 
remained unpublished ; and to whom I knowmyself greatly and variously 
obliged, as a Poet, a man, and a Christian.' * Advertisement ' to 
Supplement, 1797, pp. 243, 244, 

1 'War,' a Fragment. 2 <john Baptist,' a poem. 

3 ' Monody on John Henderson.' 


So Nature iiiourn'd when sunk the First Day's light, 35 

With stars, unseen before, spangling her r()})e of night I 

Still soar, my Friend, those richer views among. 
Strong, rapid, fervent, flashing Fancy's beam ! 
Virtue and Truth shall love your gentler song ; 
But Poesy demands th' impassion'd theme : 40 

Waked by Heaven's silent dews at Eve's mild gleam 
What balmy sweets Pomona breathes around ! 
But if the vext air rush a stormy stream 
Or Autumn's shrill gust moan in plaintive sound, 
With fruits and flowers she loads the tempest-honor'd ground. 



She had lost her Silver Thimble, and her complaint being 
accidentally overheard by him, her Friend, he immediately sent 
Jier four others to take her choice of. 

As oft mine eye with careless glance 

Has gallop'd thro' some old romance, 

Of speaking Birds and Steeds with wings, 

Giants and Dwarfs, and Fiends and Kings ; 

Beyond the rest with more attentive care 5 

I've lov'd to read of elfin-favour'd Fair 

How if she long'd for aught beneath the sky 

And suffer'd to escape one votive sigh. 

Wafted along on viewless pinions aery 

It laid itself obsequious at her feet : 10 

Such things, I thought, one might not hope to meet 

Save in the dear delicious land of Faery ! 

But now (by proof I know it well) 

There 's still some peril in free wishing 

Politeness is a licensed sjjell, 15 

And you, dear Sir ! the Arch-magician. 

^ First published in 1796 : included for the first time in Appendix to 
1863. Mrs. Coleridge told her daughter {Biog. Lit, 1847, ii. 411) that she 
wrote but little of these verses. 

35 sunk] sank 1797. 

TJie Silver Thimble— Title] Epistle v. The Production of a Young Lady, &c. 
1796 : From a Young Lady Appendix, 1863. 


You much perplex'd me by the various set : 

They were indeed an elegant quartette ! 

My mind went to and fro, and waver'd long ; 

At length I've chosen (Samuel thinks me wrong) 20 

Ttiat, around whose azure rim 

Silver figures seem to swim, 

Like fleece-white clouds, that on the skiey Blue, 

Waked by no breeze, the self-same shapes retain ; 

Or ocean-Nymphs with limbs of snowy hue 25 

Slow-floating o'er the calm cerulean plain. 

Just such a one, mon cher ami, 

(The finger shield of industry) 

Th' inventive Gods, I deem, to Pallas gave 

What time the vain Arachne, madly brave, 30 

Challeng'd the blue-eyed Virgin of the sky 

A duel in embroider'd work to try. 

And hence the thimbled Finger of grave Pallas 

To th' erring Needle's point was more than callous. 

But ah the poor Arachne ! She unarm'd 35 

Blundering thro' hasty eagerness, alarm'd 

With all a B'lvaVs hopes, a Mortal's fears, 

Still miss'd the stitch, and stain'd the web with tears. 

Unnumber'd punctures small yet sore 

Full fretfully the maiden bore, 40 

Till she her lily finger found 

Crimson'd with many a tiny wound ; 

And to her eyes, suff'us'd with watery woe. 

Her flower-embroider'd web danc'd dim, I wist. 

Like blossom'd shrubs in a quick-moving mist : 45 

Till vanquish 'd the despairing Maid sunk low. 

Bard ! whom sure no common Muse inspires, 

1 heard your Verse that glows with vestal fires ! 
And I from unwatch'd needle's erring point 

Had surely suffer'd on each finger-joint 50 

Those wounds, which erst did poor Arachne meet ; 

While he, the much-lov'd Object of my choice 

(My bosom thrilling with enthusiast heat), 

Pour'd on mine ear with deep impressive voice, 

How the great Prophet of the Desart stood 55 

And preach'd of Penitence by Jordan's Flood ; 

On War ; or else the legendary lays 

In simplest measures hymn'd to Alla's praise ; 


Or what the Bard from his heart's inmost stores 
O'er his Friend's grave in loftier numbers pours: 60 

Yes. Bard polite ! you but obey'd the laws 
Of Justice, when the thimble you had sent ; 
What wounds your thought-bewildering Muse might cause 
Tis well your finger-shielding gifts prevent. Sara. 



Sermoni propriora. — Hor. 
Low was our pretty Cot : our tallest Rose 
Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear 
At silent noon, and eve, and early morn, 
The Sea's faint murmur. In the open air 
Our Myrtles blossom'd ; and across the porch 5 

Thick Jasmins twined: the little landscape round 
Was green and woody, and refreshed the eye. 
It was a spot which you might aptly call 
The Valley of Seclusion ! Once I saw 

(Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quietness) 10 

A wealthy son of Commerce saunter by, 
Bristowa's citizen: methought, it calm'd 
His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse 
With wiser feelings : for he paus'd, and look'd 
With a pleas'd sadness, and gaz'd all around, 15 

Then eyed our Cottage, and gaz'd round again. 
And sigh'd, and said, it was a Blessed Place. 
And we were bless'd. Oft with patient ear 
Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's note 
(Viewless, or haply for a moment seen 20 

Gleaming on sunny wings) in whisper'd tones 

^ First published in tlie Monthly Magazine, October, 1796, vol. ii, p. 712 : 
included in 1797, 1803, SibyUine Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

Reflections, &c. — Title] Reflections on entering into active life. A Poem 
which affects not to be Poetry M. Mag. The motto u-as prefixed in 1797. 

12-17 Bristowa's citizen — he paus'd and look'd 

With a pleased sadness and gaz'd all around, 

Then eye'd our cottage and gaz'd round again, 

And said it was a blessed little place. Monthly Magazine. 

17 And sigh'd, and said, it icas a blessed place. 1797, 1803. 

21 wings] wing M. M., 1797, 1803, S. L. 

21-3 Gleaming on sunny wing.) 'And such,' I said, 

' The inobtrusive song 1803. 


I've said to my Beloved, ' Such, sweet Girl ! 

The inobtrusive song of Happiness, 

Unearthly minstrelsy ! then only heard 

When the Soul seeks to hear; when all is hush'd, 25 

And the Heart listens!' 

But the time, when first 
From that low Dell, steep up the stony Mount 
I climb'd with perilous toil and reach'd the top, 
Oh ! what a goodly scene ! Here the bleak mount, 
The bare bleak mountain speckled thin with sheep ; 30 
Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields ; 
And river, now with bushy rocks o'er-brow'd. 
Now winding bright and full, with naked banks ; 
And seats, and lawns, the Abbey and the wood, 
And cots, and hamlets, and faint city-spire ; 35 

The Channel there, the Islands and white sails. 
Dim coasts, and cloud-like hills, and shoreless Ocean — 
It seem'd like Omnipresence ! God, methought. 
Had built him there a Temple : the whole World 
Seem'd imag'd in its vast circumference : 40 

No 2vish profan'd my overwhelmed heart. 
Blest hour! It was a luxury, — to be! 

Ah ! quiet Dell ! dear Cot, and Mount sublime ! 
I was constrain'd to quit you. Was it right, 
While my unnumber'd brethren toil'd and bled, 45 

That I should dream away the entrusted hours 
On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart 
With feelings all too delicate for use? 
Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's eye 
Drops on the cheek of one he lifts from earth : 50 

And he that works me good with unmov'd face. 
Does it but half: he chills me while he aids, 
My benefactor, not my brother man ! 
Yet even this, this cold beneficence 

Praise, praise it, my Soul ! oft as thou scann'st 55 

The sluggard Pity's vision-weaving tribe ! 
Who sigh for Wretchedness, yet shun the Wretched, 
Nursing in some delicious solitude 
Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies I 

40 Was imag'd M. M. 46 entrusted] trusted M. M., 1797. 55 

Seizes my Praise, when I reflect on those 1797, 1S03, Sibylline Leaves, 1817 
(line as in text supplied in Errata). 


I therefore go, and join head, heart, and hand, 60 

Active and firm, to fight the l)h)odless fight 
Of Science, Freedom, and tlie Truth in Christ. 

Yet oft when after lion(»iirable toil 
Rests the tir'd mind, and waking loves to dream. 
My spirit shall revisit thee, dear Cot ! 65 

Thy Jasmin and thy window-peeping Rose, 
And Myrtles fearless of the mild sea-air. 
And I shall sigh fond wishes — sweet Abode I 
Ah ! — had none greater ! And that all had such ! 
It might be so — but the time is not yet. 70 

Speed it, Father ! Let thy Kingdom come I 



This is the time, when most divine to hear, 
The voice of Adoration rouses me, 

1 First published in 1796 : included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 
1834. Lines 260-357 were published in The Watchman, No. II, March 9, 

1796, entitled 'The Present State of Society'. In the editions of 1796, 

1797, and 1803 the following lines, an adaptation of a passage in the 
First Book of Akenside's Pleasures of the Imagination, were prefixed as 
a motto : — 

What tho' first. 
In years unseasoned, I attun'd the lay 
To idle Passion and unreal Woe ? 
Yet serious Truth her empire o'er my song 
Hath now asserted ; Falsehood's evil brood. 
Vice and deceitful Pleasure, she at once 
Excluded, and my Fancy's careless toil 
Drew to the better cause ! 
An ' Argument ' followed on a separate page : — 

Introduction. Person of Christ. His prayer on the Cross. The 
process of his Doctrines on the mind of the Individual. Character of the 
Elect. Superstition. Digression to the present War. Origin and Uses 
of Government and Property. The present State of Society. The 
French Revolution. Millenium. Universal Redemption. Conclusion. 

69 none] 7ione M. M. all] all M. M. 70-1 om. 180S. 

Religious Musings — Title] on Christmas Eve. In the year of Our 

Lord, 1794. 

1-23 This is the time, when most divine to hear, 

As with a Cherub's * loud uplifted ' trump 
The voice of Adoration my thrill'd heart 
Rouses : And with the rushing noise of wings 


As with a Cherub's trump : and high upborne, 

Yea, mingling with the Choir, I seem to view 

The vision of the heavenly multitude, 5 

Who hymned the song of Peace o'er Bethlehem's fields ! 

Yet thou more bright than all the Angel-blaze, 

That harbingered thy birth, Thou Man of Woes ! 

Despised Galilaean ! For the Great 

Invisible (by symbols only seen) 10 

With a peculiar and surpassing light 

Shines from the visage of the oppressed good man, 

When heedless of himself the scourged saint 

Mourns for the oppressor. Fair the vernal mead. 

Fair the high grove, the sea, the sun, the stars; 15 

True impress each of their creating Sire ! 

Yet nor high grove, nor many-colour'd mead, 

Nor the green ocean with his thousand isles. 

Transports my spirit to the favor'd fields 5 

Of Bethlehem, there in shepherd's guise to sit 

Sublime of extacy, and mark ontranc'd 

The glory-streaming Vision throng the night.* 

Ah not more radiant, nor loud harmonies 

Hymning more unimaginably sweet 10 

With choral songs around th' Eternal Mind, 

The constellated company of Worlds 

Danc'd jubilant : what time the startling East 

Saw from her dark womb leap her flamy child ! 

Glory to God in the Highest ! Peace on Earth ! 15 

Yet thou more bright than all that Angel Blaze, 

Despised Galilaean ! Man of Woes ! 

For chiefly in the oppressed Good Man's face 

The Great Invisible (by symbols seen) 

Shines with peculiar and concentred light, 20 

When all of Self regardless the scourg'd Saint 

Mourns for th' oppressor. O thou meekest Man ! 25 

Meek Man and lowliest of the Sons of Men ! 

Who thee beheld thy imag'd Father saw.f 

His Power and Wisdom from thy awful eye 

Blended their beams, and loftier Love sat there 

Musing on human weal, and that dread hour 30 

When thy insulted, &c. 1796. 

* And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude of the heavenly 
Host, praising God and saying glory to God in the highest and on earth 
peace. Luke ii. 13 1796. 

t Philip saith unto him. Lord ! shew us the Father and it sufficeth us. 
Jesus saith unto him, Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast 
thou not known me, Philip ? He that hath seen me hath seen the 
Father. John xiv. 9 1796. 

7 Angel-blaze] Angel-Host 1803. 


Nor the starred azure, nor the sovran sun, 

E'er with such majesty of portraiture ao 

Imaged the supreme beauty unereate. 

As thou, meek Saviour ! at the fearful hour 

Wlien thy insulted anguish winged the prayer 

Harped by Archangels, when they sing of mercy ! 

Which when the Almighty heard from forth his throne 25 

Diviner light filled Heaven with ecstasy ! 

Heaven's hymnings paused : and Hell her yawning mouth 

Closed a brief moment. 

Lovely was the death 
Of Him whose life was Love ! Holy with power 
He on the thought-benighted Sceptic beamed 30 

Manifest Godhead, melting into day 
What floating mists of dark idolatry 
Broke and misshaped the omnipresent Sire : ^ 
And first by Fear uncharmed the drowsed Soul. 
Till of its nobler nature it 'gan feel 35 

Dim recollections ; and thence soared to Hope, 
Strong to believe whatever of mystic good 
The Eternal dooms for His immortal sons. 
From Hope and firmer Faith to perfect Love 
Attracted and absorbed : and centered there 40 

God only to behold, and know, and feel. 
Till by exclusive consciousness of God 
All self-annihilated it shall make^ 

^ Td NorjTov hiripi]Kaoiv us iroWwv Qewv ISioTTjras. Damas. DE Myst. Aegypt. 
Footnote to line 34, 1797, 1S03, 1S28, 1829. [This note, which should be 
attached to 1, 33, is a comment on the original line 'Split and mishap'd ' 
&c., of 1796. The quotation as translated reads thus: — 'Men have split 
up the Intelligible One into the peculiar attributes of Gods many'.] 

^ See this demonstrated by Hartley, vol. 1, p. 114, and vol. 2, p. 329. 
See it likewise proved, and freed from the charge of Mysticism, by 
Pistorius in his Notes and Additions to part second of Hartley on Man, 
Addition the 18th, the 653rd page of the third volume of Hartley, 
Octavo Edition. Note to line 44, 1797. [David Hartley's Observations on 
Man were published in 1749. His son republished them in 1791, with 
Notes, &c., from the German of H. A. Pistorius, Pastor and Provost of the 
Synod at Poseritz in the Island of Riigen.] 

26 Diviner light flash'd extacy o'er Heaven ! 1796. 

32-4 What mists dim-floating of Idolatry 

Split and mishap'd the Omnipresent Sire : 
And first by Terror, Mercy's startling prelude, 
Uncharm'd the Spirit spell-bound with earthy lusts. 1796. 

39 From Hope and stronger Faith to perfect Love 1796. 


God its Identity : God all in all ! 
We and our Father one ! 

And blest are they, 45 

Who in this fleshly World, the elect of Heaven, 
Their strong eye darting through the deeds of men. 
Adore with steadfast unpresuming gaze 
Him Nature's essence, mind, and energy ! 
And gazing, trembling, patiently ascend 50 

Treading beneath their feet all visible things 
As steps, that upward to their Father's throne 
Lead gradual— else nor glorified nor loved. 
They nor contempt embosom nor revenge: 
For they dare know of what may seem deform 55 

The Supreme Fair sole operant: in whose sight 
All things are pure, his strong controlling love 
Alike from all educing perfect good. 
Their's too celestial courage, inly armed — 
Dwarfing Earth's giant brood, what time they muse 60 

On their great Father, great beyond compare ! 
And marching onwards view high o'er their heads 
His waving banners of Omnipotence. 
Who the Creator love, created Might 

Dread not : within their tents no Terrors walk. 65 

For they are holy things before the Lord 
Aye unprofaned, though Earth should league with Hell ; 
God's altar grasping with an eager hand 
Fear, the wild-visag'd, pale, eye-starting wretch, 
Sure-refug'd hears his hot pursuing fiends 70 

54 embosom] imbosom 1796, 1797, 1803. 

64-71 They cannot dread created might, who love 
God the Creator ! fair and lofty thought ! 
It lifts and swells my heart ! and as I muse, 
Behold a Vision gathers in my soul, 
Voices and shadowy shapes ! In human guise 
I seem to see the pliantom, Fear, pass by. 
Hotly-pursued, and pale ! From rock to rock 
He bounds with bleeding feet, and thro the swamp, 
The quicksand and the groaning wilderness, 
tStruggles with feebler and yet feebler flight. 
But lo ! an altar in the wilderness, 
And eagei'ly yet feebly lo ! he grasps 
The altar of the living God ! and there 
With wan reverted face the trembling wretch 
All wildly list'ning to his Hunter fiends 
Stands, till the last faint echo of their yell 
Dies in the distance. Soon refresh'' d from Heaven &c. 1808. 


Yell at vain distance. Soon refresh'd from Heaven 

He calms the throb and tempest of his heart. 

His countenance settles ; a soft solemn })liss 

Swims in his eye— his swimming eye uprais'd : 

And Faith's whole armour glitters on his limbs ! 75 

And thus transfigured with a dreadless awe, 

A solemn hush of soul, meek he beholds 

All things of terri})le seeming : yea, unmoved 

Views e'en the immitigable ministers 

That shower down vengeance on these latter days. 80 

For kindling with intenser Deity 

From the celestial Mercy-seat they come, 

And at the renovating wells of Love 

Have fiird their vials with salutary wrath, ^ 

To sickly Nature more medicinal 85 

Than what soft balm the weeping good man pours 

Into the lone despoiled traveller's wounds! 

Thus from the Elect, regenerate through faith, 

Pass the dark Passions and what thirsty cares ^ 

^ And I heard a great voice out of the Temple saying to the seven 
Angels, pour out the vials of the wrath of God upon the earth. Revela- 
tion, xvi. 1. Note to line 91, Notes, 1796, p. 90. 

2 Our evil Passions, under the influence of Religion, become innocent, 
and may be made to animate our virtue— in the same manner as the thick 
mist melted by the Sun, increases the light which it had before excluded. 
In the preceding paragraph, agreeably to this truth, we had allegorically 
narrated the transfiguration of Fear into holy Awe. Footnote to line 91, 
7797 : to line 101, 1803. 

74-7 Swims in his eyes : his swimming eyes uprais'd : 

And Faith's whole armour girds his limbs ! And thus 
Transfigur'd, with a meek and dreadless awe, 
A solemn hush of spirit he beholds 1808. 

78 84 Yea, and there, 

Unshudder'd unaghasted, he shall view 

E'en the Seven Spirits, who in the latter day 

Will shower hot pestilence on the sons of men, 

For he shall know, his heart shall understand, 

That kindling with intenser Deity 

They from the Mercy-Seat like rosy flames, 

From God's celestial Mercy-Seat will flash. 

And at the wells of renovating Love 

Fill their Seven Vials with salutary wrath. 1796. 

81-3 For even these on wings of healing come, 
Yea, kindling with intenser Deity 
From the Celestial Mercy Seat they speed. 
And at the renovating &c. 1603. 

86 soft] sweet 1808. 


Drink up the spirit^ and the dim regards 90 

Self-centre. Lo they vanish ! or acquire 

New names, new features— by supernal grace 

Enrobed with Light, and naturalised in Heaven. 

As when a shepherd on a vernal morn 

Through some thick fog creeps timorous with slow foot, 95 

Darkling he fixes on the immediate road 

His downward eye : all else of fairest kind 

Hid or deformed. But lo ! the bursting Sun ! 

Touched by the enchantment of that sudden beam 

Straight the black vapour melteth, and in globes 100 

Of dewy glitter gems each plant and tree ; 

On every leaf, on every blade it hangs ! 

Dance glad the new-born intermingling rays. 

And wide around the landscape streams with glory! 

There is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind, 105 

Omnific. His most holy name is Love. 

Truth of subliming import ! with the which 

Who feeds and saturates his constant soul, 

He from his small particular orbit flies 

With blest outstarting ! From himself he flies, 1 10 

Stands in the sun, and with no partial gaze 

Views all creation ; and he loves it all. 

And blesses it, and calls it very good ! 

This is indeed to dwell with the Most High I 

Cherubs and rapture-trembling Seraphim 115 

Can press no nearer to the Almighty's throne. 

But that we roam unconscious, or with hearts 

Unfeeling of our universal Sire, 

And that in His vast family no Cain 

Injures uninjured (in her best-aimed blow 120 

Victorious Murder a blind Suicide) 

Haply for this some younger Angel now 

Looks down on Human Nature : and, behold ! 

A sea of blood bestrewed with wrecks, where mad 

Embattling Interests on each other rush 125 

With unhelmed rage ! 

'Tis the sublime of man, 
Our noontide Majesty, to know ourselves 

96-7 Darkling with earnest eyes he traces out 

Th' immediate road, all else of fairest kind 1803, 
98 the burning Sun 1S03 115 The Cherubs and the trembling 

Seraphim 2S05. 1 19-21 om. ISOS. 


Parts and proportions of one wondrous whoU» ! 

This fraternises man, this constitutes 

Our charities and bearings. But 'tis (iod 130 

Diffused through all, that doth make all one whole ; 

This the worst superstition, him e.\cei)t 

Auglit to desire, Supreme Keality I ^ 

The plenitude and permanence of l)liss ! 

Fiends of Superstition I not that oft 135 
The erring Priest hath stained with brother's blood 

Your grisly idols, not for this may wrath 

Thunder against you from the Holy One ! 

But o'er some phiin that steameth to the sun, 

Peopled with Death ; or where more hideous Trade 140 

Loud-laughing packs his bales of human anguish ; 

1 will raise up a mourning, O ye Fiends ! 

And curse your spells, that film the eye of Faith, 

Hiding the present God ; whose presence lost, 

The moral world's cohesion, we become 145 

An Anarchy of Spirits I Toy-bewitched, 

Made blind by lusts, disherited of soul, 

No common centre Man, no common sire 

Knoweth ! A sordid solitary thing, 

Mid countless brethren with a lonely heart 150 

Through courts and cities the smooth savage roams 

Feeling himself, his own low self the whole ; 

1 If to make aught but the Supreme Reality the object of final pursuit, 
be Superstition ; if the attributing of sublime properties to things or 
persons, which those things or persons neither do or can possess, be 
Superstition ; then Avarice and Ambition are Superstitions : and he who 
wishes to estimate the evils of Superstition, should transport himself, 
not to the temple of the Mexican Deities, but to the plains of Flanders, 
or the coast of Africa.— Such is the sentiment convey'd in this and the 
subsequent lines. Footnote to line 135, 1797 : to line 143, 1S03. 

135-41 ^ Fiends of Superstition 1 not that oft 

Your pitiless rites have floated with man's blood 

The skuU-pil'd Temple, not for this shall wrath 

Thunder against you from the Holy One ! 

But (whether ye th' unclimbing Bigot mock 

With secondary Gods, or if more pleas'd 

Ye petrify th' imbrothell'd Atheist's heart, 

The Atheist your worst slave) I o'er some plain 

Peopled with Death, and to the silent Sun 

Steaming with tyrant-murder'd multitudes ; 

Or where mid groans and shrieks loud-laughing Trade 

More hideous packs his bales of living anguish 1796. 


When he by sacred sympathy might make 

The whole one Self ! Self, that no alien knows ! 

Self, far diffused as Fancy's wing can travel ! 155 

Self, spreading still ! Oblivious of its own, 

Yet all of all possessing ! This is Faith I 

This the Messiah's destined victory ! 

But first offences needs must come ! Even now^ 

(Black Hell laughs horrible — to hear the scoff!) 160 

Thee to defend, meek Galilaean ! Thee 

And thy mild laws of Love unutterable, 

Mistrust and Enmity have burst the bands 

Of social peace: and listening Treachery lurks 

With pious fraud to snare a brother's life ; 165 

And childless widows o'er the groaning land 

Wail numberless ; and orphans weep for bread ! 

Thee to defend, dear Saviour of Mankind ! 

Thee, Lamb of God ! Thee, blameless Prince of Peace ! 

From all sides rush the thirsty brood of War! — 170 

Austria, and that foul Woman of the North, 

The lustful murderess of her wedded lord ! 

And he, connatural Mind ! ^ whom (in their songs 

So bards of elder time had haply feigned) 

Some Fury fondled in her hate to man, 175 

Bidding her serpent hair in mazy surge 

Lick his yoimg face, and at his mouth imbreathe 

^ January 21st, 1794, in the debate on the Address to his Majesty, on the 
speech from the Throne, the Earl of Guildford {sic) moved an Amendment 
to the following effect : — ' That the House hoped his Majesty would seize 
the earliest opportunity to conclude a peace with France,' &c. This 
motion was opposed by the Duke of Portland, who ' considered the war 
to be merely grounded on one principle — the preservation of the Christian 
Religion'. May 30th, 1794, the Duke of Bedford moved a number of 
Resolutions, with a view to the Establishment of a Peace with France. 
He was opposed (among others) by Lord Abingdon in these remarkable 
words : ' The best road to Peace, my Lords, is War ! and War carried on 
in the same manner in which we are taught to worship our Creator, 
namely, with all our souls, and with all our minds, and with all our 
hearts, and with all our strength,' [Footnote to line 159, 1797, ISOS, 1828, 
1829, and 1884.] 

2 That Despot who received the wages of an hireling that he might act 
the part of a swindler, and who skulked from his impotent attacks on the 
liberties of Franco to perpetrate more successful iniquity in tho plains of 
Poland. Note to line 193. Notes, 1796, p. 170. 

165 pious] pious 1796-1829. 176 mazy surge] tortuous folds J/ 

177 imbreathe] inbreathe 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 



Horrible sympathy ! And leagued with these 

Each petty German princeling, nursed in gore ! 

Soul-hardened barterers of human blood ! * 180 

Death's prime slave-merchants ! Scorpion-whips of Fate ! 

Nor least in savagery of holy zeal, 

Apt for the yoke, the race degenerate, 

Whom Britain erst had blushed to call her sons I 

Thee to defend the Moloch Priest prefers 185 

The prayer of hate, and l)ellows U> the herd, 

That Deity, Accomplice Deity 

In the fierce jealousy of wakened wrath 

Will go forth with our armies and our fleets 

To scatter the red ruin on their foes ! 190 

blasphemy I to mingle fiendish deeds 

With blessedness ! 

Lord of unsleej)ing Love,'^ 
From everlasting Thou ! We shall not die. 
These, even these, in mercy didst thou form. 
Teachers of Good through Evil, by brief wrong 195 

Making Truth lovely, and her future might 
Magnetic o'er the fixed untrembling heart. 

In the primeval age a dateless while 

The vacant Shepherd w^ander'd with his flock, 

Pitching his tent where'er the green grass waved. 200 

But soon Imagination conjured up 

An host of new desires : with busy aim, 

Each for himself, Earth's eager children toiled. 

So Property began, twy-streaming fount, 

^ The Father of the present Prince of Hesse Cassell supported himself 
and his strumpets at Paris by the vast sums which he received from the 
British Government during the American War for the flesh of his 
subjects. Notes, 1796, p. 176. 

2 Art thou not from everlasting, O Lord, mine Holy One ? We shall 
not die. O Lord ! thou hast ordained them for judgment, &c. Habakkuk 
i. 12. Note to line 212. Notes, 1796, p. 171. Footnote, 1S28, 1829, 1S34. 

Art thou not, &c. In this paragraph the Author recalls himself from 
his indignation against the instruments of Evil, to contemplate the uses 
of these Evils in the great process of divine Benevolence. In the first 
age, Men were innocent from ignorance of Vice ; they fell, that by the 
knowledge of consequences they might attain intellectual security, i. e. 
"Virtue, which is a wise and strong-nerv'd Innocence. Footnote to line 196, 
1797 : to line 204, 1803. 

202 An] A lS3i. 


Whence Vice and Virtue flow, honey and gall. 205 

Hence the soft couch, and many-coloured robe, 

The timbrel, and arched dome and costly feast. 

With all the inventive arts, that nursed the soul 

To forms of beauty, and by sensual wants 

Unsensualised the mind, which in the means 210 

Learnt to forget the grossness of the end, 

Best pleasured with its own activity. 

And hence Disease that withers manhood's arm, 

The daggered Envy, spirit-quenching Want, 

Warriors, and Lords, and Priests — all the sore ills' 215 

That vex and desolate our mortal life. 

Wide-wasting ills ! yet each the immediate source 

Of mightier good. Their keen necessities 

To ceaseless action goading human thought 

Have made Earth's reasoning animal her Lord ; 220 

And the pale-featured Sage's trembling hand 

Strong as an host of armed Deities, 

Such as the blind Ionian fabled erst. 

From Avarice thus, from Luxury and War 

Sprang heavenly Science ; and from Science Freedom. 225 

O'er waken 'd realms Philosophers and Bards 

Spread in concentric circles : they whose souls. 

Conscious of their high dignities from God, 

Brook not Wealth's rivalry ! and they, who long 

Enamoured with the charms of order, hate 230 

The unseemly disproportion : and whoe'er 

1 I deem that the teaching of the gospel for hire is wrong; because it 
gives the teacher an improper bias in favour of particular opinions on 
a subject where it is of the last importance that the mind should be 
perfectly unbiassed. Such is my private opinion ; but I mean not to 
censure all hired teachers, many among whom I know, and venerate as the 
best and wisest of men — God forbid that I should think of these, when 
I use the word Priest, a name, after which any other term of abhorrence 
would appear an anti-climax. By a Priest I mean a man who holding 
the scourge of power in his right hand and a bible (translated by 
authority) in his left, doth necessarily cause the bible and the scourge to 
be associated ideas, and so produces that temper of mind which leads to 
Infidelity — Infidelity which judging of Revelation by the doctrines and 
practices of established Churches honors God by rejecting Christ. See 
* Address to the People ', p. 57, sold by Parsons, Paternoster Row. Note 
to line 235. Notes, 1796, pp. 171, 172, 

222 an] a 1884. 223 om. 1796, 1S08. 


Turn witli mild .sorrow from tlie Victor's car 

And the low puppetry of thrones, to muse 

On that blest triumph, when the Patriot Sage' 

Called the red lightnings from the o'er-rushing cloud 335 

And dashed the l)eauteous terrors on the earth 

Smiling majestic. Such a phalanx ne'er 

Measured firm paces to the calming sound 

Of Spartan flute I These on the fated day. 

When, stung to rage by Pity, eloquent men 240 

Have roused with pealing voice the unnumbered tribes 

That toil and groan and bleed, hungry and blind — 

These, hush'd awhile with patient eye serene, 

Shall watch the mad careering of the storm ; 

Then o'er the wild and w^avy chaos rush 245 

And tame the outrageous mass, with plastic might 

Moulding Confusion to such perfect forms, 

As erst were wont, — bright visions of the day ! — 

To float before them, when, the summer noon. 

Beneath some arched romantic rock reclined 250 

They felt the sea-breeze lift their youthful locks ; 

Or in the month of blossoms, at mild eve, 

Wandering with desultory feet inhaled 

The wafted perfumes, and the flocks and w^oods 

And many-tinted streams and setting sun 255 

With all his gorgeous company of clouds 

Ecstatic gazed ! then homeward as they strayed 

Cast the sad eye to earth, and inly mused 

Why there was misery in a w^orld so fair. 

Ah ! far removed from all that glads the sense, 260 

From all that softens or ennobles Man, 

The wretched Many I Bent beneath their loads 

They gape at pageant Power, nor recognise 

Their cots' transmuted plunder I From the tree 

Of Knowledge, ere the vernal sap had risen 265 

Rudely disbranched ! Blessed Society ! 

Fitliest depictured by some sun-scorched waste. 

Where oft majestic, through the tainted noon 

1 Dr. Franklin. Note to line 253. Notes, 1796, p. 172. 

254 5 The wafted perfumes, gazing on the woods 

The many tinted streams 1S03. 
257 In extacy ! 7.S0.9. 266 Blessed] Blent 179(i, Watchman : evil 180S 
Blefiml 1797, 7S2S. 1829. 


The Simoom sails, before whose purple pomp ^ 

Who falls not prostrate dies! And where by night, 270 

Fast by each precious fountain on green herbs 

The lion couches : or hyaena dips 

Deep in the lucid stream his bloody jaws ; 

Or serpent plants his vast moon-glittering bulk, 

Caught in whose monstrous twine Behemoth^ yells, 275 

His bones loud-crashing ! 

O ye numberless, 
Whom foul Oppression's ruffian gluttony 
Drives from Life's plenteous feast ! O thou poor Wretch 
Who nursed in darkness and made wild by want, 
Roamest for prey, yea thy unnatural hand 280 

Dost lift to deeds of blood ! O pale-eyed form, 
The victim of seduction, doomed to know 
Polluted nights and days of blasphemy ; 
Who in loathed orgies with lewd wassailers 
Must gaily laugh, while thy remembered Home 285 

Gnaws like a viper at thy secret heart ! 
aged Women ! ye who weekly catch 
The morsel tossed by law-forced charity, 

^ At eleven o'clock, while we contemplated with great pleasure the 
rugged top of Chiggre, to which we were fast approaching, and where we 
were to solace ourselves with plenty of good water, Idris cried out with 
a loud voice, * Fall upon your faces, for here is the Simoom '. I saw 
from the S.E. an haze come on, in colour like the purple part of the 
rainbow, but not so compressed or thick. It did not occupy twenty 
yards in breadth, and was about twelve feet high from the ground. — We all 
lay flat on the ground, as if dead, till Idris told us it was blown over. 
The meteor, or purple haze, which I saw, was indeed passed ; but the 
light air that still blew was of heat to threaten suffocation. Bruce's 
Travels, vol. 4, p. 557. Note to line 288. Notes, 1796, pp. 172, 173. 

2 Behemoth, in Hebrew, signifies wild beasts in general. Some 
believe it is the Elephant, some the Hippopotamus ; some affirm it is the 
Wild Bull. Poetically, it designates any large Quadruped. [Footnote to 
1. 279, 1797 : to 1. 286, 1808. Reprinted in 183S, 1829, and 1834. The note 
to 1. 294 in 1796, p. 173 ran thus : Used poetically for a very large 
quadruped, but in general it designates the elephant.] 

270 by] at Watchman. 273 bloody] gore-stained 1803. 274 plants] 
rolls 1796. 

277-8 Ye whom Oppression's ruffian gluttony 

Drives from the feast of life 1803. 
280-1 Dost roam for prey — yea thy unnatural hand 

Liftest to deeds of blood 1796. 
281 Dost] Dar'st WaicJmian. 
283-4 Nights of pollution, days of blasphemy, 

Who in thy orgies with loath'd wassailers 1803. 


And die so slowly, that none call it murder ! 

O loathly suppliants I ye, that unreceived 390 

Totter heart-l)roken from the closing gates 

Of the full Lazar-house ; or, gazing, stand. 

Sick with despair ! O ye to Glory's field 

Forced or ensnared, who, as ye gasp in death, 

Bleed with new wounds beneath the vulture's beak ! 295 

thou poor widow, who in dreams dost view 
Thy husband's mangled corse, and from short doze 
Start'st with a shriek ; or in thy half-thatched cot 
Waked by the wintry night-storm, wet and cold 

Cow'rst o'er thy screaming baby ! Kest aw^hile 300 

Children of Wretchedness ! More groans must rise. 

More blood must stream, or ere your wTongs be full. 

Yet is the day of Ketribution nigh : 

The Lamb of God hath opened the fifth seal : ' 

And upward rush on swiftest wing of fire 305 

The innumerable multitude of wrongs 

By man on man inflicted ! Eest awhile. 

Children of Wretchedness ! The hour is nigh 

' See the sixth chapter of the Revelation of St. John tlie Divine. — And 

1 looked and beheld a pale horse ; and his name that sat on him was 
Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them 
over the Fourth part of the Earth to kill with sword, and with hunger, 
and with pestilence, and with the beasts of the Earth. — 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. And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, 
the stars of Heaven fell unto the Earth, even as a fig-tree casteth her 
untimely figs when she is shaken of a mighty wind : And the kings of 
the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, 
&c. Note to line 324. Notes, 1796, pp. 174, 175. 

290 loathly-visag'd Suppliants! ye that oft 179G: loathly-visag'd 
supplicants ! that oft Watchman. 

291-2 Rack'd with disease, from the unopen'd gate 

Of the full Lazar-house, heart-broken crawl ! 1796, Watchman. 

293-6 O ye to scepter'd Glory's gore-drench'd field 

Forc'd or ensnar'd, who swept by Slaughter's scythe 
Stern nurse of Vultures ! steam in putrid heaps 1796. 
O ye that steaming to the silent Noon, 
People with Death red-eyed Ambition's plains ! 
O Wretched Widoio Watchman. 

300 Cow'rest 1796. 302 stream] steam 1796, Watchman, 1797, 1803. 

305 And upward spring on swiftest plume of fire Watchman. 


And lo ! the Great, the Rich, the Mighty Men, 

The Kings and the Chief Captains of the World, 310 

With all that fixed on high like stars of Heaven 

Shot baleful influence, shall be cast to earth. 

Vile and down-trodden, as the untimely fruit 

Shook from the fig-tree by a sudden storm. 

Even now the storm begins:^ each gentle name, 315 

Faith and meek Piety, with fearful joy 

Tremble far-off — for lo ! the Giant Frenzy 

Uprooting empires with his whirlwind arm 

Mocketh high Heaven ; burst hideous from the cell 

Where the old Hag, unconquerable, huge, 320 

Creation's eyeless drudge, black Ruin, sits 

Nursing the impatient earthquake. 

O return ! 
Pure Faith! meek Piety! The abhorred Form^ 
Whose scarlet robe was stifl" with earthly pomp, 
Who drank iniquity in cups of gold, 325 

Whose names were many and all blasphemous, 
Hath met the horrible judgment ! Whence that cry ? 
The mighty army of foul Spirits shrieked 
Disherited of earth ! For she hath fallen 
On whose black front was written Mystery ; 330 

She that reeled heavily, whose wine was blood ; 
She that worked whoredom with the Daemon Power, 
And from the dark embrace all evil things 
Brought forth and nurtured : mitred Atheism ! 
And patient Folly who on bended knee 335 

Gives back the steel that stabbed him ; and pale Fear 
Haunted by ghastlier shapings than surround 
Moon-blasted Madness when he yells at midnight ! 
Return pure Faith ! return meek Piety ! 

1 Alluding to the French Revolution IS34 : The French Revolution 1796 : 
This passage alludes to the French Revolution : and the subsequent 
paragraph to the downfall of Religious Establishments. I am con- 
vinced that the Babylon of the Apocalypse does not apply to Rome 
exclusively ; but to the union of Religion with Power and Wealth, 
wherever it is found. Footnote to line 320, 1797, to line 322, 1803. 

2 And there came one of the seven Angels which had the seven vials, and 
talked with me, saying unto me, come hither ! I will show unto thee the 
judgment of the great Whore, that sitteth upon many waters : with whom 
the kings of the earth have committed fornication, &c. Revelation of St. 
John the Divine, chapter the seventeenth. Note to 1. 343. Notes, 1796, p. 175. 

337 Hunted by ghastlier terrors 179G, Watchman. Haunted] Hunted 
1797, 1S03, 1828, 1829. 


The kingdoms of tlie wurlil are yours: each heart 340 

Self-governed, the vast family of Love 

Raised from the common eartli hy common toil 

Enjoy the equal produce. Such delights 

As float to earth, permitted visitants ! 

When in some hour of solemn jubilee 345 

The massy gates of Paradise are thrown 

Wide open, and forth come in fragments wild 

Sweet echoes of unearthly melodies. 

And odours snatched from beds of Amaranth, 

And they, that from the crystal river of life 350 

Spring up on freshened wing, ambrosial gales ! 

The favoured good man in his lonely walk 

Perceives them, and his silent spirit drinks 

Strange bliss which he shall recognise in heaven. 

And such delights, such strange beatitudes 355 

Seize on my young anticipating heart 

When that blest future rushes on my view ! 

For in his own and in his Father's might 

The Saviour comes ! While as the Thousand Years ^ 

Lead up their mystic dance, the Desert shouts ! ?/>o 

Old Ocean claps his hands ! The mighty Dead 

Rise to new life, whoe'er from earliest time 

With conscious zeal had urged Love's wondrous plan. 

Coadjutors of God. To Milton's trump 

^ The Millenium : — in which I suppose, that Man will continue to 
enjoy the highest glory, of which his human nature is capable. — That all 
who in past ages have endeavoured to ameliorate the state of man will 
rise and enjoy the fruits and flowers, the imperceptible seeds of which 
they had sown in their former Life : and that the wicked will during 
the same period, be suffering the remedies adapted to their several bad 
habits. I suppose that this period will be followed by the passing away 
of this Earth and by our entering the state of pure intellect; when all 
Creation shall rest from its labours. Footnote to line 365, 1797, to line 
367, 1803. 

345-8 When on some solemn Jubilee of Saints 
The sapphire-blazing gates of Paradise 
Are thrown wide open, and thence voyage forth 
Detachments wild of seraph-warbled airs 179G, Watchman. 

355 beatitudes] beatitude 1796, Watchman, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 

356 Seize on] Have seiz'd Watchman. 

359-61 The Saviour comes ! While as to solemn strains. 
The Thousand Years lead up their mystic dance 
Old Ocean claps his hands ! the Desert shouts ! 
And soft gales wafted from the haunts of spring 
Melt the primaeval North ! The Mighty Dead 179G. 


The high groves of the renovated Earth 365 

Unbosom their glad echoes : inly hushed, 

Adoring Newton his serener eye 

Raises to heaven : and he of mortal kind 

Wisest, he^ first who marked the ideal tribes 

Up the fine fibres through the sentient brain. 370 

Lo ! Priestley there, patriot, and saint, and sage, 

Him, full of years, from his loved native land 

Statesmen blood-stained and priests idolatrous 

By dark lies maddening the blind multitude 

Drove with vain hate. Calm, pitying he retired, 375 

And mused expectant on these promised years. 

O Years ! the blest pre-eminence of Saints ! 

Ye sweep athwart my gaze, so heavenly bright, 

The wings that veil the adoring Seraphs' eyes, 

What time they bend before the Jasper Throne^ 380 

Reflect no lovelier hues ! Yet ye depart, 

And all beyond is darkness ! Heights most strange, 

Whence Fancy falls, fluttering her idle wing. 

For who of woman born may paint the hour. 

When seized in his mid course, the Sun shall wane 385 

1 David Hartley, ^Footnote to line 392, 1796, to line 375, 1797, to line 380, 
180S : reprinted in 1828, 1829, and 1834.] 

^ Rev. chap. iv. v. 2 and 3. — And immediately I vv^as in the Spirit : 
and behold, a Throne was set in Heaven and one sat on the Throne. 
And he that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone, &c. 
iFootnote to line 386, 1797, to line 389, 1803 : reprinted in 1828, 1829, 
and 1S34.'] 

365 The odorons groves of Earth reparadis'd 1796. 

370-2 Down the fine fibres from the sentient brain 
Roll subtly-surging. Pressing on his steps 
Lo ! Priestley there, Patriot, and Saint, and Sage, 
Whom that my fleshly eye hath never seen 
A childish pang of impotent regret 

Hath thrill'd my heart. Him from his native land 1796. 
Up the tine fibres thro' the sentient brain 
Pass in fine surges. Pressing on his steps 
Lo! Priesiletj there 1803. 

378-80 Sweeping before the rapt prophetic Gaze 

Bright as what glories of the jasper throne 
Stream from the gorgeous and face-veiling plumes 
Of Spirits adoring ! Ye blest years ! must end 1796. 

380 they bend] he bends 1797, 1808, 1828, 1829. 


Making noon ghastly ! Who of woman born 

May image in the workings of his thought, 

How the black-visaged, red-eyed Fiend outstretched ' 

Beneath the unsteady feet of Nature groans, 

In feverous slumbers — destined then to wake, 390 

When fiery whirlwinds thunder his dread name 

And Angels shout, Destruction ! How his arm 

The last great Spirit lifting high in air 

Shall swear by Him, the ever-living One, 

Time is no more ! 

Believe thou, O my soul, ' 395 

Life is a vision shadowy of Truth ; 
And vice, and anguish, and the wormy grave. 
Shapes of a dream ! The veiling clouds retire, 
And lo ! the Throne of the redeeming God 
Forth flashing unimaginable day 400 

Wraps in one blaze earth, heaven, and deepest hell. 

Contemplant Spirits ! ye that hover o'er 

With untired gaze the immeasurable fount 

Ebullient with creative Deity ! 

And ye of plastic power, that interfused 405 

Roll through the grosser and material mass 

In organizing surge ! Holies of God ! 

(And what if Monads of the infinite mind ?) 

I haply journeying my immortal course 

Shall sometime join your mystic choir! Till then 410 

I discipline my young and novice thought 

In ministeries of heart-stirring song, 

And aye on Meditation's heaven-ward wing 

Soaring aloft I breathe the empyreal air 

Of Love, omnific, omnipresent Love, 4^5 

^ The final Destruction impersonated. [Footnote to line 394, 1797, to 
line 396, 1803 : reprinted in 1S2S, 1829, and 1834.] 

2 This paragraph is intelligible to those, who, like the Author, believe 
and feel the sublime system of Berkley >[sic) ; and the doctrine of the final 
Happiness of all men. Footnote to line 402, 1797, to line 405, 1803. 

387 May image in his wildly-working thought 179G : May image, how 
the red-eyed Fiend outstretcht 1803. 390 feverous] feverish 1796, 1797, 
1803, 1828, 1829. Beticeen 391, 392 Destruction ! when the Sons of 

Morning shout, The Angels shout, Destruction 1803. 393 The Mighty 

Spirit 1796. 400 om. 1803. 401 blaze] Light 1803. 411 and novice] 
noviciate 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 


Whose day-spring rises glorious in my soul 
As the great Sun, when he his influence 
Sheds on the frost-bound waters — The glad stream 
Flows to the ray and warbles as it flows. 


O WHAT a wonder seems the fear of death, 

Seeing how gladly we all sink to sleep, 

Babes, Children, Youths, and Men, 

Night following night for threescore years and ten ! 

But doubly strange, where life is but a breath 5 

To sigh and pant with, up Want's rugged steep. 

Away, Grim Phantom ! Scorpion King, away ! 

Reserve thy terrors and thy stings display 

For coward Wealth and Guilt in robes of State ! 

Lo ! by the grave I stand of one, for whom lo 

A prodigal Nature and a niggard Doom 

[TJmt all bestowing, this withholding all) 

Made each chance knell from distant spire or dome 

Sound like a seeking Mother's anxious call, 

Return, poor Child ! Home, weary Truant, home ! 15 

» The 'Monody', &c., dated in eds. 1796, 1797, 1803, 'October, 
1794,' was first published at Cambridge in 1794, in Poems, By Thomas 
Eowley [i. e. Chatterton] and others edited by Lancelot >Sharpe (pp. 
xxv-xxviii). An Introductory Note was prefixed : — 'The Editor thinks 
himself happy in the permission of an ingenious friend to insert the 
following Monody.* The variants marked 1794 are derived from that 
work. The ' Monody ' was not included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817. For MS. 
variants vide ante, ' Monody ', &c., Christ's Hospital Version. 

Coleridge told Cottle, May 27, 1814 that lines 1-4 were written when 
he was ' a mere boy' {Reminiscences, 1847, p. 348) ; and, again, April 22, 
1819, he told William Worship that they were written ' in his thirteenth 

-15 When faint and sad o'er Sorrow's desart wild 
Slow journeys onward, poor Misfortune's child ; 
When fades each lovely form by Fancy drest, 
And inly pines the self-consuming breast ; 
(No scourge of scorpions in thy right arm dread, 
No helmed terrors nodding o'er thy head,) 
Assume, O Death ! the cherub wings of Peace, 
And bid the heartsick Wanderer's Anguish cease. 

1704, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828. 

[Lines 1-15 of the text were first printed in 1829.] 


Thee, Chatterton ! these unblest stones protect 

From want, and the bleak freezings of neglect. 

Too long before the vexing Storm-blast driven 

Here hast thou found repose ! beneath this sod ! 

Thou ! O vain word ! tJiou dwell'st not with the clod I 20 

Amid the shining Host of the Forgiven 

Thou at the throne of mercy and thy God 

The triumph of redeeming Love dost hymn 

(Believe it, O my Soul !) to harps of Seraphim. 

Yet oft, perforce ('tis suffering Nature's call), 25 

I weep that heaven-born Genius so should fall ; 

And oft, in Fancy's saddest hour, my soul 

Averted shudders at the poison'd bowl. 

Now groans my sickening heart, as still I view 

Thy corse of livid hue ; 30 

Now Indignation checks the feeble sigh. 
Or flashes through the tear that glistens in mine eye I 

Is this the land of song-ennobled line? 

Is this the land, where Genius ne'er in vain 

Pour'd forth his lofty strain? 35 

Ah me ! yet Spenser, gentlest bard divine. 
Beneath chill Disappointment's shade, 
His weary limbs in lonely anguish lay'd. 

And o'er her darling dead 

Pity hopeless hung her head, 40 

"While 'mid the pelting of that merciless storm,* 
Sunk to the cold earth Otway's famish'd form ! 

year as a school exercise '. The Monody numbered 107 lines in 1794, 
143 in 1796, 135 in 1797, 119 in 1803, 143 in 1828, 154 in 1829, and 165 
lines in 1834. 

16 these] yon 179i, 1796, 1707, 1S03, 182S. 
18-24 Escap'd the sore wounds of Affliction's rod 
Meek at the throne of Mercy and of God, 
Perchance, thou raisest high th' enraptur'd hymn 

Amid the blaze of Seraphim ! 1704, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828. 
25 Yet oft ('tis Nature's bosom-startling call) 1794, 1796, 1828 : Yet oft 
('tis Nature's call) 1797, 1808. 26 should] shall 1829. 30 Thy] The 


31 -32 And now a flash of Indignation high 

Darts through the tear that glistens in mine eye. 

1794, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828. 
35 his] her 1794. 37 Disappointment's deadly shade 1794. 41 

merciless] pitiless 1794. 


Sublime of thought, and confident of fame, 

From vales where Avon ^ winds the Minstrel came. 

Light-hearted youth ! aye, as he hastes along, 45 

He meditates the future song, 
How dauntless ^lla fray'd the Dacyan foe ; 

And while the numbers flowing strong 

In eddies whirl, in surges throng, 
Exulting in the spirits' genial throe 50 

In tides of power his life-blood seems to flow. 

And now his cheeks with deeper ardors flame, 

His eyes have glorious meanings, that declare 

More than the light of outward day shines there, 

A holier triumph and a sterner aim ! 55 

Wings grow within him ; and he soars above 

Or Bard's or Minstrel's lay of war or love. 

Friend to the friendless, to the sufferer health, 

He hears the widow's prayer, the good man's praise ; 

To scenes of bliss transmutes his fancied wealth, 60 

And young and old shall now see happy days. 

On many a waste he bids trim gardens rise, 

Gives the blue sky to many a prisoner s eyes ; 

And now in wrath he grasps the patriot steel. 

And her own iron rod he makes Oppression feel. 65 

Sweet Flower of Hope ! free Nature's genial child ! 

That didst so fair disclose thy early bloom, 

^ Avon, a river near Bristol, the birth-place of Chatterton. 

45 aye, as] 07n. 1797, ISOS. 46 He] And 1797, 180S. 

47-56 How dauntless ^Ua fray'd the Dacyan foes ; 
And, as floating high in air, 
Glitter the sunny Visions fair. 
His eyes dance rapture, and his bosom glows I 

1794, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828. 
[1794 reads 'Danish foes'; 1797, 1808 read 'See, as floating', &c. 
Lines 48-56 were added in iS59,] 

58-71 Friend to the friendless, to the sick man Health, 
With generous Joy he views th' idecd wealth ; 
He hears the Widow's heaven-breath'd prayer of Praise ; 
He marks the shelter'd Orphan's tearful gaze ; 
Or where the sorrow-shrivell'd Captive lay, 5 

Pours the bright Blaze of Freedom's noon-tide Eay : 
And now, indignant ' grasps the patriot steel ' 
And her own iron rod he makes Oppression feel. 


Filling the wide air with a rich perfume ! 

For thee in vain all heavenly aspects sniil'd ; 

From the hard world hrirf respite could they win — 70 

The frost nipp'd sharp without, the canker prey'd within ! 

Ah ! where are fled the charms of vernal Grace, 

And Joy's wild gleams that lighten'd o'er thy face? 

Youth of tumultuous soul, and haggard eye ! 

Thy wasted form, thy hurried steps I view, 75 

On thy wan forehead starts the lethal dew. 

And oh ! the anguish of that shuddering sigh ! 

Such were the struggles of the gloomy hour. 
When Care, of wither'd brow, 

Prepar'd the poison's death-cold power: 80 

Already to thy lips was rais'd the bowl, 

When near thee stood Affection meek 

(Her bosom bare, and wildly pale her cheek) 
Thy sullen gaze she bade thee roll 

On scenes that well might melt thy soul ; 85 

Thy native cot she flash 'd upon thy view, 

Clad in Nature's rich array, 
And bright in all her tender hues, 10 

Sweet Tree of Hope ! thou loveliest child of Spring ! 
How fair didst thou disclose thine early bloom. 

Loading the west winds with its soft perfume ! 
And Fancy, elfin form of gorgeous wing, 
[And Fancy hovering round on shadowy wing, 1794.] 
On every blossom hung her fostering dews, 15 

That, changeful, wanton'd to the orient Day ! 
But soon upon thy poor unshelter'd Head 
[Ah ! soon, &c. 1794.] 
Did Penury her sickly mildew shed : 
And soon the scathing Lightning bade thee stand 
In frowning horror o'er the blighted Land 1794, 1796, 1828. 

[Lines 1-8 of the preceding variant were omitted in 1797. Line 9 
reads ' Yes ! Clad,' &c., and line 12 reads * Most fair,' &c. The entire 
variant, 'Friend . . . Land,' was omitted in 1803, but reappears in 1828. 
The quotation marks ' grasps the patriot steel ' which appear in 1796, but 
not in 1794, were inserted in 1828, but omitted in 1829, 1884. Lines 1-6 
were included in ' Lines written at the King's Arms, Ross ', as first 
published in the Cambridge Intelligencer, Sept. 27, 1794, and in the editions 
of 2797, 1828, 1829, and 1S84.] 

72 Ah! where] Whither i794, i797. 73 that lighten'd] light-flashing 
1797, 1803. 76 wan] cold 1794. 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828. lethal] anguish'd 

1794, 1796, 1797, 1828. 77 And dreadful was that bosom-rending sigh 

1794, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828. 78 the gloomy] that gloomy 1803. 80 

Prepar'd the poison's power 1797, 1808. 


Thy native cot, where still, at close of day, 

Peace smiling sate, and listen'd to thy lay ; 

Thy Sister's shrieks she bade thee hear, 

And mark thy Mother's thrilling tear ; 90 

See, see her breast's convulsive throe, 

Her silent agony of woe ! 
Ah ! dash the poison'd chalice from thy hand ! 

And thou hadst dashed it, at her soft command, 

But that Despair and Indignation rose, 95 

And told again the story of thy woes ; 

Told the keen insult of the unfeeling heart, 

The dread dependence on the low-born mind ; 

Told every pang, with which thy soul must smart. 

Neglect, and grinning Scorn, and Want combined ! 100 

Recoiling quick, thou badest the friend of pain 

Roll the black tide of Death through every freezing vein ! 

O spirit blest! 
Whether the Eternal's throne around, 

Amidst the blaze of Seraphim, 105 

Thou pourest forth the grateful hymn, 
Or soaring thro' the blest domain 
Enrapturest Angels with thy strain, — 
Grant me, like thee, the lyre to sound. 
Like thee with fire divine to glow; — no 

But ah ! when rage the waves of woe, 
Grant me with firmer breast to meet their hate. 
And soar beyond the storm with upright eye elate ! 

Ye woods ! that wave o'er Avon's rocky steep, 

To Fancy's ear sweet is your murmuring deep ! 115 

For here she loves the cypress wreath to weave ; 

Watching with wistful eye, the saddening tints of eve. 

Here, far from men, amid this pathless grove. 

In solemn thought the Minstrel wont to rove, 

Like star-beam on the slow sequester'd tide 120 

Lone-glittering, through the high tree branching wide. 

90 And mark thy mother's tear 1797, 1803. 98 low-born] low-bred 

1794. 99 with] at 1794. must] might 1794. 102 black] dark 1794. 
103-13 These lines, which form the conclusion (11. 80-90) of the Christ's 
Hospital Version, were printed for the first time in 1884, witli the 
following variants : 1. 104 the Eternal's] th' Eternal ; 1. 105 Seraphim] 
Cherubim ; 1. 112 to meet] t'oppose ; 1. 113 storm] storms. 120 slow] 
rude 1794. 121 Lone-glittering thro' the Forest's murksome pride 1794. 


And liere. in Inspiration's pag«'r lionr. 
When most tlio ]>ig soul f(*els the mastering power, 
Tliese wilds, these caverns roaming o'er. 
Round which the screaming sea-gulls soar, 125 

With wild une(pial steps he pass'd along, 
Oft pouring on the winds a broken song: 
Anon, upon some rough rock's fearful brow 
Would pause abrupt — and gaze upon the waves ))elow. 

Poor Chatterton I he sorrows for thy fate 130 

Who would have prais'd and lov'd thee, ere too late. 

Poor Chatterton I farewell I of darkest hues 

This chaplet cast I on thy unshaped tomb ; 

But dare no longer on the sad theme muse, 

Lest kindred woes persuade a kindred doom : 135 

For oh ! big gall-drops, shook from Folly's wing, 

Have blacken'd the fair promise of my spring : 

And the stern Fate transpierced with viewless dart 

The last pale Hope that shiver'd at my heart ! 

Hence, gloomy thoughts! no more my soul shall dwell 140 

On joys that were ! no more endure to weigh 

The shame and anguish of the evil day, 

Wisely forgetful ! O'er the ocean swell 

Sublime of Hope I seek the cottag'd dell 

Where Virtue calm with careless step may stray ; 145 

And, dancing to the moon-light roundelay. 

The wizard Passions weave an holy spell ! 

Chatterton ! that thou wert yet alive ! 

Sure thou would'st spread the canvass to the gale, 

And love with us the tinkling team to drive 150 

O'er peaceful Freedom's undivided dale ; 

And we, at sober eve, would round thee throng, 

Would hang, enraptur'd, on thy stately song, 

And greet wath smiles the young-eyed Poesy 

All deftly mask'd as hoar Antiquity. 155 

Alas, vain Phantasies ! the fleeting brood 
Of Woe self-solac'd in her dreamy mood ! 

123 mastering] mad'ning 1794, 1796, 1797, 180S, 182S. 129 Here the 

Monody ends 1794. 130-65 First printed in 1796. 133 

unshaped] shapeless 1803. 136-39 om. 1803. 147 an] a 1834. 

153 Would hang] Hanging 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829. 


Yet will I love to follow the sweet dream, 
Where Susquehannah pours his untamed stream ; 
And on some hill, whose forest-frowning side i6o 

Waves o'er the murmurs of his calmer tide, 
Will raise a solemn Cenotaph to thee. 
Sweet Harper of time-shrouded Minstrelsy ! 
And there, sooth'd sadly by the dirgeful wind, 
Muse on the sore ills I had left behind. 165 




Auspicious Reverence ! Hush all meaner song, 

Ere we the deep preluding strain have poured 

To the Great Father, only Rightful King, 

Eternal Father ! King Omnipotent ! 

To the Will Absolute, the One, the Good ! 5 

The I AM, the Word, the Life, the Living God ! 

^ First publislied, in its entirety, in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : included in 
1828, 1829, and 1834. Two hundred and fifty-five lines were included in 
Book II of Joan of Arc, An Epic Poem, by Robert Southey, Bristol and 
London, 1796, 4°. The greater part of the remaining 212 lines wei-e 
written in 1796, and formed part of an unpublished poem entitled The 
Piogress of Liberty or The Vision of the Maid of Orleans, or Visions of the Maid of 
Orleans, or Visions of the Maid of Arc, or The Vision of the Patriot Maiden. (See 
letter to Poole, Dec. 13, and letter to J. Thelwall, Dec. 17, 1796, Letters 
of S. T. C, 1895, i. 192, 206. See, too, Cottle's Early Recollections, 1837, 
i. 230 ; and, for Lamb's criticism of a first draft of the poem, his 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 
Piecollections, 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. 

I No more of Usurpation's doom'd defeat 4'^. 
5-6 Beneath whose shadowy banners wide unfurl'd 
Justice leads forth her tyrant-quelling hosts. 

4", Sibylline Leaves. 
5 The Will, The Word, The Breath, The Livino r4oD J82S, 1S29. 
Added in 1834. 



Sucli synipliony ro<|uii'«'S l^est instiument. 
Seize, tlien, my soul ! from Freedom's trophied dt)me 
The Harp which h.ingeth high hetween the Shields 
Of Brutus and Leonidas I With that lo 

Strong music, tliat soliciting spell, force ))ack 
Man's free and stirring spirit that lies entranced. 

For what is Freedom, but the unfettered use 
Of all the powers which God for use had given ? 
But chiefly this, him First, him Last to view 15 

Through meaner powers and secondary things 
Effulgent, as through clouds that veil his blaze. 
For all that meets the bodily sense I deem 
Symbolical, one mighty alphabet 

For infant minds ; and we in this low world 20 

Placed with our backs to bright Reality, 
That we may learn with young unwounded ken 
The substance from its shadow. Infinite Love, 
Whose latence is the plenitude of All, 
Thou with retracted beams, and self-eclipse 25 

Veiling, revealest thine eternal Sun. 

But some there are who deem themselves most free 
When they within this gross and visible sphere 
Chain down the winged thought, scoffing ascent, 
Proud in their meanness : and themselves they cheat 30 
With noisy emptiness of learned phrase, 
Their subtle fluids, impacts, essences. 
Self-working tools, uncaused effects, and all 
Those blind Omniscients, those Almighty Slaves, 
Untenanting creation of its God. 35 

9-12 The Harp whicli hanging high between the sliields 
Of Brutus and Leonidas oft gives 
A fitful music to the breezy touch 
Of patriot spirits tliat demand their fame. 4". 

12 Man's] Earth's Sihijlline Leaves, 1S28, 182U. 

15 But chiefly this with holiest habitude 

Of constant Faith, him First, him Last to view 4". 

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 ! i°. 
The substance from its shadow — Earth's broad shade 
Revealing by Eclipse, the Eternal Snn. Sibylline Leaves. 

[The text of lines 23-G is given in the Errata p. [Ixii].] 


But Properties are God : the naked mass 
(If mass there be, fantastic guess or ghost) 
Acts only by its inactivity. 

Here we pause humbly. Others boldlier think 
That as one body seems the aggregate 40 

Of atoms numberless, each organized ; 
So by a strange and dim similitude 
Infinite myriads of self-conscious minds 
Are one all-conscious S^^irit, which informs 
With absolute ubiquity of thought 45 

(His one eternal self-affirming act !) 
All his involved Monads, that yet seem 
With various province and apt agency 
Each to pursue its own self-centering end. 
Some nurse the infant diamond in the mine ; 50 

Some roll the genial juices through the oak ; 
Some drive the mutinous clouds to clash in air. 
And rushing on the storm with whirlwind speed, 
Yoke the red lightnings to their volleying car. 
Thus these pursue their never-varying course, 55 

No eddy in their stream. Others, more wild, 
With complex interests weaving human fates, 
Duteous or proud, alike obedient all, 
Evolve the process of eternal good. 

And what if some rebellious, o'er dark realms 60 

Arrogate power? yet these train up to God, 
And on the rude eye, unconfirmed for day. 
Flash meteor-lights better than total gloom. 
As ere from Lieule-Oaive's vapoury head 
The Laplander beholds the far-off Sun 65 

Dart his slant beam on unobeying snows. 
While yet the stern and solitary Night 
Brooks no alternate sway, the Boreal Morn 
With mimic lustre substitutes i'lS gleam- 
Guiding his course or by Niemi lake 7° 
Or Balda Zhiok,^ or the mossy stone 
Of Solfar-kapper,- while the snowy blast 

Balda-Zhiok, i. e mons altitudinis, the highest mountain in Lapland. 
Solfar-kapper : capitinm Solfar, hie locus omnium, quotquot veterum 

37 om. i^. 40 seems] is 4". 44 Form one all-conscious Spirit, 

who directs i". 46 om. i^. 47 involved] component 4°. 

54 lightnings] lightning i'\ 70 Niemi] Niemi's i^. 


Drifts arrowy by, or ctldit'S rouiul his sledge, 

Making tlio poor babe at its mother's back ' 

Scream in its scanty cradle : he the while 75 

Wins pentle solace as with upward eye 

He marks the streamy banners of the North. 

Tliiiikiiiu: himself those happy spirits shull join 

Who there in floating robes of rosy light 

Dance sportively. For Fancy is the power So 

That first unsensualises the dark mind, 

Giving it new delights ; and bids it swell 

With wild activity ; and peopling air, 

By obscure fears of Beings invisible, 

Emancipates it from the grosser thrall 85 

Of the present impulse, teaching Self-control, 

Till Superstition with unconscious hand 

Seat Reason on her throne. Wherefore not vain, 

Nor yet without permitted power impressed, 

I deem those legends terrible, with which 90 

The polar ancient thrills his uncouth throng: 

Whether of pitying Spirits that make their moan 

O'er slaughter'd infants, or that Giant Bird 

Vuokho, of whose rushing wings the noise 

Is Tempest, when the unutterable Shape 95 

Speeds from the mother of Death, and utters once- 

That shriek, -which never murderer heard, and lived. 

Lapponum supcrstitio sacrificiisque religiosoque cultui dedicavit, celebra- 
tissimus crat, in parte sinus australis situs, semimilliaris spatio a niari 
distans. Ipse locus, quern curiositatis gratia aliquando me invisisse 
memini, duabus praealtis lapidibus, sibi invicem oppositis, quorum alter 
musco circumdatus erat, constabat. 

^ 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. 

^ Jaibme Aibmo, 

90 doem] deemed 182'J. 

96-7 Speeds trom the mother of Death his destin'd Wiiy 
To snatch the murderer from liis secret coll. 4". 


Or if the Greenland Wizard in strange trance 
Pierces the iintravelled realms of Ocean's bed 
Over the abysm, even to that uttermost cave loo 

By mis-shaped prodigies beleaguered, such 
As Earth ne'er bred, nor Air, nor the upper Sea : 
Where dwells the Fury Form, whose unheard name 
With eager eye, pale cheek, suspended breath, 
And lips half-opening with the dread of sound, 105 

Unsleeping Silence guards, worn out with fear 
Lest haply 'scaping on some treacherous blast 
The fateful word let slip the Elements 
And frenzy Nature. Yet the wizard her, 
Arm'd with Torngarsuck's power, the Spirit of Good,^ no 
Forces to unchain the foodful progeny 
Of the Ocean stream ; — thence thro' the realm of Souls, 
Where live the Innocent, as far from cares 
As from the storms and overwhelming waves 
That tumble on the surface of the Deep, 115 

Returns with far-heard pant, hotly pursued 
By the fierce Warders of the Sea, once more, 
Ere by the frost foreclosed, to repossess 
His fleshly mansion, that had staid the while 
In the dark tent within a cow'ring group 120 

Untenanted. — Wild phantasies ! yet wise. 
On the victorious goodness of high God 
Teaching reliance, and medicinal hope, 

^ They call the Good Spirit, Torngaisuck. 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, Histonj of 
Greenland, vol. i. 206. 

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°, Sihylline Leaves, 1S2S, 1S29. 
These lines form part of an addition (lines 111-21) which dates from 1834. 
103 Where] There 4^, Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829. 105 om. 4°. 107 

'scaping] escaping 4°, Sibxjlline Leaves, 1828, 1829. 108 fateful word] fatal 
sounds". 1 12-21 thence thro' . . . Untenanted are not included in 
4°, Sibylline Leaves, 1828, or 1829. For lines 113-15 vide ante, variant of 
line 99 of the text. 112 Ocean] Ocean's 182S, 1829. 


Till Ironi Bi'tlijibra noitlnvarcl, heavenly Truth 

With gradual steps, winning her diflicult way, 125 

Transfer tlieir rude Faith i)erfi'cted and puie. 

If there be Beings of higher class than Man. 
I deem no nobler province they possess. 
Than by disposal of apt circumstance 

To rear up kingdoms: and the deeds they prompt. 130 

Distinguishing from mortal agency. 
They choose their luiman ministers from such states 
As still the Epic song half fears to name, 
Repelled from all the minstrelsies that strike 
The palace-roof and soothe the monarch's pride. 135 

And such, perhaps, the Spirit, who (if words 
Witnessed by answering deeds may claim our faith) 

130 foil. To rear some realm with patient discipline, 

Aye bidding Pain, dark Error's uncouth child, 

Blameless Parenticide ! his snakey scourge 125 

Lift fierce against liis 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°. 

JVo/e— Lines 148-223 of the Second Book of Joan 0/ Arc are by Southey. 
Coleridge's unpublished poem of 1796 {TJie Visions of the Maid of Orleans) 
begins at line 127 of the text, ending at line 277. The remaining portion 
of the Destiny of Natiaiis is taken from lines contributed to the Second 
Book. Lines 136-40 of variant 130 foil, form the concluding fragment of 
the Destiny of Naiiom. Lines 14 1-3 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] vaori^X Sibylline Leaves (correction made in Errata, j^. [xii]). 


Held commune with that warrior-maid of France 

Who scourged the Invader. From her infant days. 

With Wisdom, mother of retired thoughts, 140 

Her soul had dwelt ; and she was quick to mark 

The good and evil thing, in human lore 

Undisciplined. For lowly was her birth, 

And Heaven had doomed her early years to toil 

That pure from Tyranny's least deed, herself 145 

Unfeared by Fellow-natures, she might wait 

On the poor labouring man with kindly looks, 

And minister refreshment to the tired 

Way- wanderer, when along the rough-hewn bench 

The sweltry man had stretched him, and aloft 150 

Vacantly watched the rudely-pictured board 

Which on the Mulberry-bough with welcome creak 

Swung to the pleasant breeze. Here, too, the Maid 

Learnt more than Schools could teach : Man's shifting mind, 

His vices and his sorrows! And full oft 155 

At tales of cruel wrong and strange distress 

Had wept and shivered. To the tottering Eld 

Still as a daughter would she run : she placed 

His cold limbs at the sunny door, and loved 

To hear him story, in his garrulous sort, 160 

Of his eventful years, all come and gone. 

So twenty seasons past. The Virgin's form, 
Active and tall, nor Sloth nor Luxury 
Had shrunk or paled. Her front sublime and broad, 
Her flexile eye-brows wildly haired and low, 165 

And her full eye, now bright, now unillumed. 
Spake more than Woman's thought ; and all her face 
Was moulded to such features as declared 
That Pity there had oft and strongly w^orked. 
And sometimes Indignation. Bold her mien, 170 

And like an haughty huntress of the woods 
She moved : yet sure she was a gentle maid I 
And in each motion her most innocent soul 
Beamed forth so brightly, that who saw would say 
Guilt was a thing impossible in her! 175 

Nor idly would have said— for she had lived 
In this bad World, as in a place of Tombs, 
And touched not the pollutions of the Dead. 

171 an] a IS8i. 


'Twiiii the cold .season when the Kiistic's eye 
From tlie div.ii- desolate whiteness of his fields i8o 

K(dls for relief to watch the skiey tints 
And clouds slow-varying their huge imagery ; 
When now. as she was wont, the healthful Maid 
Had left her pallet ere one beam of day 
Planted the fog-smoke. She went forth alone 1S5 

Urged by the indwelling angel-guide, that oft. 
With dim inexplicable symi)athies 
Disquieting the heart, shapes out Man's course 
To the j)redoomed adventure. Now the ascent 
She climbs of that steep upland, on whose top 190 

The Pilgrim-man, who long since eve had watched 
The alien shine of unconcerning stars. 
Shouts to himself, there first the Abbey-lights 
Seen in Neufchatel's vale ; now slopes adown 
The winding sheep-track vale-ward : when, behold 195 

In the first entrance of the level road 
An unattended team ! The foremost horse 
Lay with stretched limbs ; the others, yet alive 
But stiff and cold, stood motionless, their manes 
Hoar with the frozen night-dews. Dismally 200 

The dark-red dawn now glimmered ; but its gleams 
Disclosed no face of man. The maiden paused, 
Then hailed who might be near. No voice replied. 
From the thwart wain at length there reached her ear 
A sound so feeble that it almost seemed 205 

Distant : and feebly, with slow effort pushed. 
A miserable man crept forth : his limbs 
The silent frost had eat, scathing like fire. 
Faint on the shafts he rested. She, meantime. 
Saw crowded close beneath the coverture 210 

A mother and her children — lifeless all. 
Yet lovely ! not a lineament w^as marred — 
Death had put on so slumber-like a form ! 
It was a piteous sight ; and one, a babe. 
The crisp milk frozen on its innocent lips, 215 

Lay on the woman's arm, its little hand 
Stretched on her bosom. 

Mutely questioning, 
The Maid gazed wildly at the living wretch. 

20i now] new Sihijlline Leaves, 1S28. 


He. his head feebly turning, on the group 

Looked with a vacant stare, and his eye spoke 220 

The drowsy cahn that steals on worn-out anguish. 

She shuddered ; but, each vainer pang subdued, 

Quick disentangling from the foremost horse 

The rustic bands, with difficulty and toil 

The stiff cramped team forced homeward. There arrived, 225 

Anxiously tends him she with healing herbs, 

And weeps and prays — but the numb power of Death 

Spreads o'er his limbs ; and ere the noon-tide hour. 

The hovering spirits of his Wife and Babes 

Hail him immortal ! Yet amid his pangs, 230 

With interruptions long from ghastly throes. 

His voice had faltered out this simple tale. 

The Village, where he dwelt an husbandman. 
By sudden inroad had been seized and fired 
Late on the yester-evening. With his wife 235 

And little ones he hurried his escape. 
They saw the neighbouring hamlets flame, they heard 
Uproar and shrieks ! and terror-struck drove on 
Through unfrequented roads, a weary way ! 
But saw nor house nor cottage. All had quenched 240 

Their evening hearth-fire : for the alarm had spread. 
The air dipt keen, the night was fanged with frost, 
And they provisionless ! The weeping wife 
111 hushed her children's moans ; and still they moaned. 
Till Fright and Cold and Hunger drank their life. 245 

They closed their eyes in sleep, nor knew 'twas Death. 
He only, lashing his o'er-wearied team, 
Gained a sad respite, till beside the base 
Of the high hill his foremost horse dropped dead. 
Then hopeless, strengthless, sick for lack of food, 250 

He crept beneath the coverture, entranced. 
Till wakened by the maiden. — Such his tale. 

Ah ! suffering to the height of what was suffered. 
Stung with too keen a sympathy, the Maid 
Brooded with moving lips, mute, startful, dark ! 255 

And now her flushed tumultuous features shot 
Such strange vivacity, as fires the eye 
Of Misery fancy-crazed ! and now once more 
Naked, and void, and fixed, and all within 
The unquiet silence of confused thought 260 


And shapoK'Ss Ifdiiigs. For a mighty haiul 

Was strong upon her, till in the heat of soul 

To tho higli hill-to}) tracing l)ack lier steps, 

Asido tlie l)oacon, up whoso smouldered stones 

Tho tondor ivy-trails crept thinly, there, 265 

Unconscious of the driving element. 

Yea, swallowed up in the ominous dream, she sate 

(Jluistly as broad-eyed Slumber! a dim anguish 

Breathed from her look ! and still with pant and sob. 

Inly she toiled to flee, and still subdued, 370 

Felt an inovita))le Presence near. 

Thus as she toiled in troublous ecstasy, 
A horror of great darkness wrapt her round, 
And a voice uttered forth unearthly tones. 
Calming her soul, — '0 Thou of the Most High 275 

Chosen, whom all the perfected in Heaven 
Behold expectant ' 

[The following fragments were intended to tkyvm part of the poem 
when finished.] 

' ' Maid beloved of Heaven ! 
(To her the tutelary Power exclaimed) 

Of Chaos the adventurous progeny 280 

TliDU seest : foul missionaries of foul sire, 
Fierce to regain the losses of that hour 
When Love rose glittering, and his gorgeous wings 
Over the abyss fluttered with such glad noise. 
As what time after long and pestful calms, 285 

With slimy shapes and miscreated life 
Poisoning the vast Pacific, the fresh breeze 
Wakens the merchant-sail uprising. Night 
An heavy unimaginable moan 

Sent forth, when she the Protoplast beheld 290 

Stand beauteous on Confusion's charmed wave. 
Moaning she fled, and entered the Profound 
That leads with downward windings to the Cave 
Of Darkness palpable. Desert of Death 

Sunk deep beneath Gehenna's massy roots. 295 

There many a dateless age the Beldame lurked 

' These are very fine Lines, tho' I s;iy 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. 

289 An] A 1SS4. 


And trembled ; till engendered by fierce Hate, 

Fierce Hate and gloomy Hope, a Dream arose, 

Shaped like a black cloud marked with streaks of fire. 

It roused the Hell-Hag: she the dew-damp wiped 300 

From ojff her brow, and through the uncouth maze 

Ketraced her steps ; but ere she reached the mouth 

Of that drear labyrinth, shuddering she paused, 

Nor dared re-enter the diminished Gulph. 

As through the dark vaults of some mouldered Tower 305 

(Which, fearful to approach, the evening hind 

Circles at distance in his homeward way) 

The winds breathe hollow, deemed the plaining groan 

Of prisoned spirits ; with such fearful voice 

Night murmured, and the sound through Chaos went. 310 

Leaped at her call her hideous-fronted brood ! 

A dark behest they heard, and rushed on earth ; 

Since that sad hour, in Camps and Courts adored, 

Rebels from God, and Tyrants o'er Mankind ! ' 

From his obscure haunt 315 

Shrieked Fear, of Cruelty the ghastly Dam, 
Feverous yet freezing, eager-paced yet slow. 
As she that creeps from forth her swampy reeds, 
Ague, the biform Hag ! when early Spring 
Beams on the marsh-bred vapours. 320 

300 dew-damp] dew-damps 4^. 314 Tyrants] Monarchs 4% 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? 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 Kome, 

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*'. 317 

Feverous] Fev'rish 4", Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829. 


•Even so (tlu" exultin<( Maiden said) 
The sainted Heralds of Good Tidings fell. 
And thus they witnessed God I But now the clouds 
Treading, and storms ])eneatli their I'eet, they sour 
Higher, and higher soar, and soaring sing 7,25 

Loud songs of triumph ! O ye Spirits of God, 
Hover around my mortal agonies ! ' 
She spake, and instantly faint melody 
Melts on her ear, soothing and sad, and slow, 
Such measures, as at calmest midnight heard 330 

By aged Hermit in his holy dream, 
Foretell and solace death ; and now they rise 
Louder, as when with harp and mingled voice 
The white-robed multitude of slaughtered saints 
At Heaven's wide-open'd portals gratulant 335 

Receive some martyred patriot. The harmony ' 
Entranced the Maid, till each suspended sense 
Brief slumber seized, and confused ecstasy. 

' 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 
everj' 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. 

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 Mai<l ! 
The Victor Hosts wither beneath her arm ! 
And what are Creey, 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' lier frame 
One pang shot shiv'ring; but, that frail pang soon 
Dismiss'd, ' Even so, &e. 4°. 

[The passage included in brackets was claimed by Southey.] 

330 calmest] calmy 4". 


At length awakening slow, she gazed around : 
And through a mist, the relict of that trance 340 

Still thinning as she gazed, an Isle appeared. 
Its high, o'er-hanging, white, broad-breasted cliffs, 
Glassed on the subject ocean. A vast plain 
Stretched opposite, where ever and anon 

The plough-man following sad his meagre team 345 

Turned up fresh sculls unstartled, and the bones 
Of fierce hate-breathing combatants, who there 
All mingled lay beneath the common earth, 
Death's gloomy reconcilement ! O'er the fields 
Stept a fair Form, repairing all she might, 350 

Her temples olive-wreathed ; and where she trod, 
Fresh flowerets rose, and many a foodful herb. 
But wan her cheek, her footsteps insecure. 
And anxious pleasure beamed in her faint eye, 
As she had newly left a couch of pain, 355 

Pale Convalescent ! (Yet some time to rule 
With power exclusive o'er the willing world, 
That blessed prophetic mandate then fulfilled — 
Peace be on Earth !) An happy while, but brief, 
She seemed to wander with assiduous feet, 360 

And healed the recent harm of chill and blight, 
And nursed each plant that fair and virtuous grew^ 

But soon a deep procursive sound moaned hollow : 
Black rose the clouds, and now, (as in a dream) 
Their reddening shapes, transformed to Warrior-hosts, 365 
Coursed o'er the sky, and battled in mid-air. 
Nor did not the large blood-drops fall from Heaven 
Poi-tentous ! while aloft w^ere seen to float. 
Like hideous features looming on the mist. 
Wan stains of ominous light ! Resigned, yet sad, 370 

The fair Form bowed her olive-crowned brow. 
Then o'er the plain with oft-reverted eye 

339-40 But lo ! no more was seen the ice-pil'd mount 

And meteor-lighted dome. — An Isle appear'd 4P. 
342 white] rough 4P. 361 and] or 4°. 

366-7 The Sea meantime his Billows darkest roU'd, 

And each stain'd wave dash'd on the shore a corse. 4°. 
369-72 His hideous features blended with the mist, 

The long black locks of Slaughter. Peace beheld 

And o'er the plain 4*^. 
369 Like hideous features blended with the chnds Sibylline Leaves, 1817. 
{Errata : for ' blen<hd\ &e., read ^looming on the ?»zs^'. S. X., p. [xii].) 


ri»'cl till a place of Tombs sho reaclietl, and tlicre 
Within a ruiiiod .Sei)iilclir(» obscure 
Found hidinL::-i>lac(\ 

The delegated Maid 375 

Gazed through her tears, then in sad tones exclaimed : — 
* Thou mild-eyed Form ! wherefore, ah ! wherefore fled ? 
The Power of Justice like a name all light. 
Shone from thy brow ; but all they, who unblamed 
Dwelt in thy dwellings, call thee Happiness. 380 

Ah I why, uninjured and unprofited, 
Should multitudes against their brethren rush? 
Why sow they guilt, still reaping misery? 
Lenient of care, thy songs, O Peace! are sweet,' 
As after showers the perfumed gale of eve, 385 

That flings the cool drops on a feverous cheek ; 
And gay thy grassy altar piled with fruits. 
But boasts the shrine of Diemon War one charm,' 
Save that with many an orgie strange and foul,^ 
Dancing around with interwoven arms, 390 

The Maniac Suicide and Giant Murder 
Exult in their fierce union ! I am sad, 
And know not why the simple peasants crowd 
Beneath the Chieftains' standard ! ' Thus the Maid. 

To her the tutelary Spirit said : 395 

'When Luxury and Lust's exhausted stores 
No more can rouse the appetites of kings ; 
When the low flattery of their reptile lords 
Falls flat and heavy on the accustomed ear ; 
When eunuchs sing, and fools buffoonery make, 400 

And dancers w^rithe their harlot-limbs in vain ; 
Then War and all its dread vicissitudes 
Pleasingly agitate their stagnant hearts ; 

' A grievous defect here in the rhyme recalling assonance of Peace, 
sweet eve, cheek. Better thus : — 

Sweet are thy Songs, Peace I lenient of care. 

S. T. C, 1828. 
' 388-93 Southeyan. To be omitted. S. T. C, 1828. 
5 A vile line [foid is underlined]. S. T. C, 1828. 

378-9 The name of Justice written on thy brow 

Resplendent shone 4^, 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 tlie sick man's throbbing temples 4°. 394 

Chieftains'] Chieftain's 4". 395 said] replied 4", S. L., 1828, 


Its hopes, its fears, its victories, its defeats, 

Insipid Eoyalty's keen condiment ! 405 

Therefore uninjured and unprofited 

(Victims at once and executioners), 

The congregated Husbandmen lay waste 

The vineyard and the harvest. As along 

The Bothnic coast, or southward of the Line, 410 

Though hushed the winds and cloudless the high noon, 

Yet if Leviathan, weary of ease. 

In sports unwieldy toss his island-bulk. 

Ocean behind him billows, and before 

A storm of waves breaks foamy on the strand. 415 

And hence, for times and seasons bloody and dark. 

Short Peace shall skin the wounds of causeless War, 

And War, his strained sinews knit anew. 

Still violate the unfinished works of Peace. 

But yonder look! for more demands thy view!' 420 

He said : and straightway from the opposite Isle 

A vapour sailed, as when a cloud, exhaled 

From Egypt's fields that steam hot pestilence. 

Travels the sky for many a trackless league. 

Till o'er some death-doomed land, distant in vain, 425 

It broods incumbent. Forthwith from the plain. 

Facing the Isle, a brighter cloud arose. 

And steered its course which way the vapour went. 

The Maiden paused, musing what this might mean. 

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,* 
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". 

* 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^. 

[These lines were assigned by Coleridge to Southey.] 


I^ut long time jKissod not, ore that brighter cloud 430 

Ketunied more bright ; along tlie plain it swept ; 

And soon from forth its bursting sides emerged 

A dazzling form, broad-bosomed, bold of eye, 

And wild her hair, save where with laurels bound. 

Not more majestic stood the healing God,^ 435 

When from his bow the arrow sped that slew 

Huge Python. Shriek'd Ambition's giant throng, 

And with ihen\ hissed the locust-fiends that crawled 

And glittered in Corruption's slimy track. 

Great was their wrath, for short they knew their reign ; 440 

And such commotion made they, and uproar, 

As when the mad Tornado bellow^s through 

The guilty islands of the western main, 

What time departing from their native shores," 

Eboe, or Koromantyn's plain of palms, 445 

The infuriate spirits of the murdered make 

Fierce merriment, and vengeance ask of Heaven. 

Warmed with new influence, the unwholesome plain 

Sent up its foulest fogs to meet the morn : 

The Sun that rose on Freedom, rose in Blood ! 450 

* Maiden beloved, and Delegate of Heaven ! 
(To her the tutelary Spirit said) 
Soon shall the Morning struggle into Day, 
The stormy Morning into cloudless Noon. 
Much hast thou seen, nor all canst understand — 455 

But this be thy best omen — Save thy Country ! ' 
Thus saying, from the answering Maid he passed, 
And with him disappeared the heavenly Vision. 

' Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven ! 
All-conscious Presence of the Universe ! 460 

' The Apollo Belvedere. 

^ 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 

434 with] by 4". 

437-8 Shriek'd Ambition's ghastly throng 

And with them those the locust Fiends that crawl'd * 4". 
* — if Locusts how could they shriek ? I must have caught the contagion 
of roithinkingness. S. T. C. 4°. 

458 heavenly] goodly 4". 


Nature's vast ever-acting Energy ! ^ 

In will, in deed, Impulse of All to All ! 

Whether thy Love with unrefracted ray 

Beam on the Prophet's purged eye, or if 

Diseasing realms the Enthusiast, wild of thought, 465 

Scatter new frenzies on the infected throng, 

Thou both inspiring and predooming both, 

the Ideas are better than the Language or Metre, in which they are 
conveyed : — 

'fl OKoTov -nvXas, Qavarc, vpoXdnoji' 
'Es y€Vos onevdois viro^evxOlv "Arq.*' 
Ov ^evia6T]aT] yevvojy airapayixoh 
Ov8' dkokvy/xo), 

'AWd Kal kvkXoigi x^P^'-'^^'^^'-^'- 
KdffixaTOJV x°P?* (po&ipos fxev kaai, 
'AAA.' oyidis 'E\(v9€pia avvoiKus, 
"Xrvyvl Tvpavve ! 

AadKiois knl irTepvyedai arjai 
'A ! OaXdaoiov KaQopwvres oidpLO. 
AiOfponXdyKTOis viru nocrcr^ dveiai 
Harpid' en' aiav, 

''EvOa fxdv 'Epaaral ^Epajfifvyaiv 
'AfKpl TTTjyfjffiv Kirpivuv vn' dXauiv, 
"Oaa v7t6 ^poTois eiiaQov (BpoTOt, rd 
Aeipd \4yovTL. 

* o before ^ ought to have been made long ; Sots vnd^ is an Amphimacer 
not (as the metre here requires) a Dactyl. S. T. 0. 

Literal Translation. 

Leaving the gates of Darkness, O Death ! hasten thou to a Kace 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. 

^ 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 
m, as well as believe Christ the only begotten Son of the Living God 
before all Time. MS. Note by S. T. C. 

463 Love] Law 4". 



Fit instruments and best, of perfect end: 
Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven!* 

And first a landscape rose 470 

More wild and waste and desolate than where 
The white l)ear, drifting on a field of ice, 
Howls to her sundered cubs with piteous rage 
And savage agony. 



Ficm an unpublished i)oem. 

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 flow^ers, 
Screen'd by those clouds and cherish'd by those showers ! 10 


Sweet flower ! that peeping from thy russet stem 

Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort 

This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering month 

' Firbt published witliout title i^' From an unpublished poem 'j in The 
Watchmati, No. iv, March 28, 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. 

^ First piiblished in Tht Watchman, No. vi, April II, 1790: included in 
1797, 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

For lines 470-74 vide ante var. of lines 130 foil. 

On observing, &c. — Title] Lines on observing, &c., Written near Sheffield, 
Watchman, J707, 1S03. 


Hath borrovv'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 lo 

Nipp'd by consumption mid untimely charms? 
Or to Bristowa's bard,^ 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. 
1 790. 



Nit ens et roboris expers 
Turget et insolida est : et spe delectat. 

OvTD, 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. 

1 Chatterton. 

2 First published in The Watchman, No. viii, April 27, 1796 : reprinted 
in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 47. First collected in Appendix to 1863. 

5 With ' blue voluptuous eye ' 1803. Bel ween 13 and 14 Blooming 

mid Poverty's drear wintry waste Watchman, 1797, 1S03, 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 Til' attempered brain, that ev'n the saddest thoughts Watchman, 
1797, 1803. 

To a Prmrose.— Motto : et] at L. R., App. 1863, 


But, tender })1osr(»iii, wliy so pale? 5 

Dost liear stern Winter in tlie gale? 
And didst tliou tempt tlie ungentle sky- 
To catch one vernal glance and die? 

Such the wan lustre Sickness wears 

When Health's first fee]»le l)eam appears ; lo 

So hmguid are the smiles that seek 

To settle on the care-worn clieek. 

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 e.'irly blow, 
Fast following after storms of Woe, 
Than (Comfort's riper season come) 

Are full-blown joys and Pleasure's gaudy bloom. 20 



JUNE 28th, 1796, TO celebrate his POLL AT THE WEST- 

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, assurd 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 

' First printed in the Transactions of the Philobiblon Society. Fir^t 
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, [1790]. 

17-20 om. L. R., App. 18GS 


(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 defermhi'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 I 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' 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 ! 

1 ' Dundas left thief-takers in Home Tooke's House for three days, 

with his two Daughters alone : for Home Tooke keeps no servant.'— 

S. T. C. to Estlin. 

31, 32 These lines are borrowed from tho first edition {4") of the Ode 

to the Departing Year, 




[prince and princess of wales] 

I SIGH, fair injur'tl stranger! for thy fate; 

But what shall sighs avail thee ? thy poor lieart, 
'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 




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 

^ 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 E^tlin, 
dated July 4, 1796. 

2 First published in the 'Biographical Supplement' to the Biographia 
Literaria, 1847, ii. 379. First collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80. This 

On a Late, &c.— 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 oti receiving, &c. — Title] Sonnet written on receiving letter inform- 
ing me of the birth of a son, I being at Birmingham MS. Letter, Nov. 1, 1796. 


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 confused thought 
And shapeless feelings: my o'erwhelmed heart 
Trembled, and vacant tears stream'd down my face. 
And now once more, Lord ! to thee I bend, lo 

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. 


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 "^ =; 

and the two succeeding sonnets were enclosed in a letter to Poole, dated 
November 1, 1796. A note was affixed to the sonnet ' On Keceiving ', &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 

1 First published in 1797 : included in 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 
1829, and 1834. 

2 "^Hj' itov -qpLMV Tj ipvxrj irplv kv Ta-Se to) avOpcumvci) fl'Sfj yfUfdOai. Plat. 
Phaedon. Cap. xviii. 72 e. 

8 shapeless] hopeless B. L. 

Sonnet composed, &c. — Title] Sonnet composed on my joui-ney home from 
Birmingliam MS. Letter, 1796 : Sonnet ix. To a Friend, &c. 1797 ; 
Sonnet xvii. To a Friend, &c. 1803. 

i-ii 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 ei'e yet this fleshly robe we wore. MS. Ijetter, 179G. 


We liv'd, ere y»'t this robe of flesli we wore.^ 

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 lo 

Thou wcrt a spirit, to this nether sphere 
Sontenc'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 thj^ little bier ! 



Charles ! my slow heart was only sad, when fii-st 

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 wath 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, lo 

I seem'd to see an angel- form appear — 
'Twas even thine, beloved woman mild ! 

So for the mother's sake the child was dear. 
And dearer was the mother for the child. 

^ Almost all the followers of Feueloii believe that men are degi-aded 
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. 

2 First published in 1797 : included in 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 
1829, and 1834. The ' Friend ' was, probably, Charles Lloyd. 

6 robe of flesh] fleshy robe 1797, 1S03. 8 art] wert MS. Letter, 3796, 

1797, 1808. 

Sonnet, &c. — Title] To a Friend who wished to know, &c. MS. Letter, 
Nm: 1, 1796 : Sonnet x. To a Friend 77.97 : Sonnet xix. To a Friend, &c. 

4 child] babe MS. Letter, 1790, 1797, 180S. 5 saw] watch'd MS. 

Letter, 1796, 11 augel-form] Angel'.s form MS. Letter, 1790, 1797, 180^:^. 



The piteous sobs that choke the Virgin's breath 
For him, the fair betrothed 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 piled 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 Keason, Virtue, Piety ! 

And from the Almighty Father shall descend 

Comforts on his late evening, whose young breast 

Mourns with no transient love the Aged Friend. 



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 

1 First published in Poeins 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. IF., 

2 First published in 1797 : included in 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 
and 1834. 

Sonnef] 13 Comforts on his late eve, whose youthful friend. MS. correc- 
tion by S. T. C. in copy of Nugae Canorae in the British Museum. 

To a Young Pnend— Title] To C. Lloyd on his proposing to domesticate, 
&c. 1797 : To a Friend, &c. 180S. ' Composed in 1796 ' was added in S. L. 

8 those still] stilly 1797 : stillest 180S. 


That rustlin<jr on tho bushy cliff a))OVe 
Witli inehmcholy l)loat of anxious lovo, 

Made meek enquiry for lier 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 i^ith sublime 
Now lead, now follow : the glad landscape round, 
Wide and more wide, increasing without bound ! 

then 'twere loveliest sympathy, to mark 30 

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 j^ellow 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 

II cliff] clift S. L., 1828, 1829. 16 How lieavenly sweet 1797, ISOH. 

42 youtli] Lloyd 1797 : Charles 1803. 46 lone] low 1797, 1803. 


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 wall 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 e\^ 

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 

Well 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! 


[C. Lloyd] 


Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe, 
Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear ! 

^ First published in the Cambridge Intelligencer, December 17, 1796 : 
included in the Quarto Edition of the Ode on the Departing Year, 1796, in 

6o And mad oppression's thunder-clasping rage 1797, 1803. 69 

We'll laugh at wealth, and learn to laugh at fame 1797, 1808. 71 In 

iSOS 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, &c. — Title] Lines, &c., C. I. : To a Young Man who aban- 
doned himself to a causeless and indolent melancholy MS. Letter, 1796. 


To pluiider'cl Want's hulf-slielter'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 

Wjis slaughter'd, where o'er his uncolHn'd limbs 
The flocking flesh-birds scream'd ! Then, while thy heart lo 

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 hoal ! 

O abject ! if, to sickly dreams resign'd, 
All efl'ortless thou leave Life's commonweal 15 

A prey to Tyrants, Murderers of Mankind. 


[Charles Lamb] 

who had declared his intention of writing no 
more poetry 

Dear Cliarles ! 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. 

Sibyliine Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The lines were bent in a letter to 
John Thelwall, dated December 17, 1796 (Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 
207, 208). 

* 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 Sibyliine 
Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

6-7 These lines were omitted in the MS. Letter and 4'^ 17U6, but were 
replaced in Sibylline Leaves, 1S17. 8 Or seek some widow's MS. Letter, 

Dec. 17, 179G. ii eye] eyes MS. Letter, Bee. 0, 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, 4P. 
I whilst] while Av.. Anth. 3 of] for S. S., An, Anth. 


Yes — thou wert plung'd, but with forgetful hand 

Held, as by Thetis erst her warrior son : lo 

And with those recreant unbaptized heels 

Thou'rt flying from thy bounden minis teries — 

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^ 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 ^ of his native Land 

So properly did look for patronage.' 

Ghost of Maecenas ! 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 aged 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 fru'it, 
These with stopped nostril and glove-guarded hand 35 

Knit in nice intertexture, so to twine. 
The illustrious brow of Scotch Nobility ! 

^ [UoWd fioi utt' dyKwuos ujKea /3e\i] 

''Ei'Sov kvTi (paperpai 
^ojvdvTa (TvveToiaiv.'\ 

Pind. Olymp. ii. 149, k. t. A. 

2 Verbatim from Burns's Dedication of his Poems to the Nobility and 
Gentry of the Caledonian Hunt. 

25 gauge] guard S. L., 1817 (For 'guard ' read ' guage '. Errata, p. [xii]). 
33 stinking hensbane S. S., An. Anth. : hensbane S^. i., 1817. 35 Those 
with stopped nostrils MS. correction in printed slip of the newspaper. See 
P. and D. W., 1877, ii. 379. After 37 ESTEESI 1796, An. Anth. 



'lou lov, ai u) KaKCL. 
'Tit' ov fjLf Sfifui up6ofiaf'T(iai nova 
trpo^d, rapaaaojv (ppotfjuon bv(T(ppoifiiois. 

To fj.(\Kov Tj^fi. Kal av jx Iv Tax^- trapwv 
" \-^av a.Xrid>'>yLavTiv oiKTfipas Ipfis. 

Atschyl. Agam. 1173-75; 1199-1200. 


The Ode- 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 sub- 
sidiary 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. 

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 bowed mind ; 
When lo ! its folds far waving on the wind, 
^ First published in the Cambridge Intelligencer, December SI, 1796, and 
at the same time issued in a quarto pamphlet (the Preface is dated 
December 26) : included in 1797, 1803, Sibylline Leaves,l817, 1828, 1829, and 
183i. 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, 183i. 

- The Ode commences with an address to the great Being, or Divine 

Ode to the, &c.— Title] Ode for the last day of the Year 1796, C. I. : Ode 
on the Departing Year 4«, 1797, 1808, S. L., 1817, 1828, 1829. 

Motto' 35 All editions (4° to 1884) read €<pT}fj.iois for dva<ppoifMioLS, and 
"Ayav y foT''Ayav ; and all before 1834 nrjv for /x' h. 

I] Strophe 1 C. L, i"*, 1797, 1803. i Spirit] Being 1803. 4 unchanging] 
unchanged 4'\ 5 free] freed i°. 6 and a bowed] and submitted 1803, 
S. L., 1817, 1828, 1829. 

7 When lo ! far onwards waving on the wind 

I SAW the skirts of the Departing Yeak. C. I., i'', 1797, 1803. 


I saw the train of the Departing Year ! 

Starting from my silent sadness 

Then with no unholy madness, lo 

Ere yet the enter'd cloud foreclos'd my sight, 
I rais'd the impetuous song, and solemnis'd his flight. 

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 perplexed 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 ^ 

Providence, who regulates into one vast Harmony all the Events of Time, 
however Calamitous some of them appear to mortals. 1808. 

^ 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. 

■ The Name of Liberty, which at the commencement of the French 

II Ere yet he pierc'd the cloud and mock'd my sight C.I. fore- 

clos'd] forebade 4P, 1797, 180S. II] Strophe II C. L, 4^, 1797, 1808. 
15-16 From Poverty's heart-wasting languish 

From Distemper's midnight anguish C.I., 4", 1797,1808. 
22 Ye Sorrows, and ye Joys advance C. I. ye] and 4°, 1797, 1803. 

25 Forbids its fateful strings to sleep C. I., 4", 1797, 1808. 31 O'er the 

sore travail of the common Earth C. I., 4°. 

33-7 Seiz'd in sore travail and portentous birth 
(Her eyeballs flashing a pernicious glare) 
Sick Nature struggles I Hark ! her pangs increase ! 
Her groans are horrible ! but O ! most fair 
The promis'd Twins she bears — Equality and Peace ! C. I., 4^. 

162 ()])K TO THK 1)KPAKTIX(; VKAR 

Let slip the storm, and woko tlio 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 Lil)erty ! 

I mark'd Ambition in his war-array ! 

I heard the mailed Monarch's troublous cry — 
* Ah ! wherefore does the Northern Conqueress stay ! ^ 40 
Groans not her chariot on its onward way?' 
Fly, mailed 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 gasi>'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, 

Revolution was both the occasion and the pretext of unnumbered crimes 
and horrors. 1808. 

* 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. 

^ 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 un- 

36 thy] the 1797, 180S. Ill] Epode C. I., 49, 1797, 1803. 40 Ah ! 

whither C. I., 4°. 41 on] o'er C. I., 4", 1797, 1803. 43 * twice mortal' 

mace C. /., 4<^, 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^, 1797, 1803. 


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! 

motived attack on Persia, the desolating ambition of her public life, 
or the libidinous excesses of her private hours ! 1 have no wish to qualify 
myself for the office of Historiographer to the King of Hell — ! December, 
23, 1796. 4«. 

58 armies] Army C.I., 4P, 1797, 1803. 61 Tyrant-Murderer's] scepter'd 
Murderer's C. I., 4'^, 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 — * 
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, Freedom ! crossed 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, Freedom ! cross'd thy orb of Light, 

And sure he deem'd that orb was quench'd in night : 

For still, &c. 4«. 
* 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 Ai-chduke Charles 
turns the scale of victory on the Rhine, and Buonaparte is checked before 
Mantua. Straight ways our courtly messenger is commanded to unmrl 
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 ! 
&f>aavvii yap alaxP^f^V'^^ 
Td\aiva IIAPAKOnA TrpcoTorr-qfxajv. — AeSCIIYL., 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 



Departing Year I 'twas on no earthly sliore 
My soul l)ehold tliy Vision ! " 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 choired gods advancing. 

The Spirit of the Earth made reverence meet, 

And stood up, beautiful, before the cloudy seat. 


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 ! 

accurate— it is only the French account) this dreadful instance of in- 
fatuation 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. 4P. 

^ 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. 180S. 

' * My soul beheld thy vision ! ' i. e. Thy Image in a vision. 4". 

IV] Antistrophe 1. C. I., 4", 1707, 180S. 

62 no earthly] an awful C. I. 65 thy . . . gore] there garmented 

with gore C. /., 4", 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. L 69 Whose purple locks with snow-white 

glories shone C.I., 4": Whose wreathed locks with snow-white glories 
shone 1797, 1803. 70 wild] strange C. I. 

V] Antistrophe II. C. I., 4", 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.T., 4°, 1797, 1803. 

The sudden Spirit cried aloud. C. I. 

Like Thunder from a Midnight Cloud 

Spake the sudden Spirit loud 1803. 


* 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 Hungers 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 ! ' ^ 
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.' 

^ Gifts used in Scripture for corruption. C. I. 

83 Arm] God C. I. 

Between 83 and 84 

By Belgium's corse-impeded flood,* 

By Vendee steaming [streaming C. /. ] Brother's blood. 

C.L, 4", 1797, 1803. 
* The Rhine. C. L, 1797, 1808. 

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, 180S. 102 Here the Ode ends C. I. 

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,* 
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^, 1797, 1803. 
Rise God of Nature, rise ! ah ! why those bolts unhurl'd ? 

1797, 1803. 
* 'In Europe the smoking villages of Flanders and the putrified fields 


The voice had coasM, the Vision fled ; 

Yet still I ^^asp'd and reel'd with dread. 

And ever, when the dream of night 105 

Kenews the phantom to my sight, 

Cold sweat-drops gather on my lim)>s ; 

My ears throh hot ; my eye balls start ; 
My hrain 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 I 
See ! the starting wretch's head 

Lies pillow'd on a brother's corse!) 120 


Not yet enslaved, not wholly vile, 

O Albion ! 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 

^ The poem concludes with prophecying in anguish of Spirit the 
Downfall of this Country. 1803. 

of La Vendee — 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. 1. 

VI] Epode II. 4^, 1797, 1803. 

103 Vision] Phantoms 4°, 1797, 1803. 106 phantom] vision 4", 1797, 

1803. 107 sweat-drops] sweat-damps 4", J?97, i^O.'y. 113 

stranger] uglier 4''. 119 starting] startful 4^, 1797, 1S03. 121 O 

doom'd to fall, enslav'd and vile 4°, 1797, 1803. 


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. 


Abandon'd of Heaven!^ 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 

* '■ Disci aim\l of Heaven /' — The Poet from having considered the peculiar 
advantages, vv^hich 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 
ou]- 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", 1797, 1803. 

133 proud Invader's] sworded Foeman's 4'^, 1797 : sworded Warrior's 1S03. 
135-9 Disclaim'd of Heaven ! mad Avarice at thy side 4^, 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", 1797. 
135 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. 


Shall hoar Dostniction. like a viilturt', 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 lidloss 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 charmed sleep. 

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 un partaking 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.' 

' * Let it not be forgotten during the perusal of this Ode that it Wiis 
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. 

142 fires] flames 4^. 

144 Stretch'd on the marge of some fire-flashing fount 

In the black Chamber of a sulphur'd mount. 4°. 
144 By livid fount, or roar of blazing stream 1797. 146 Visions 

of thy predestin'd ruins rise i803. 151 famish'd] famin'd 4^. 156 

Soliciting my scant and blameless soil 4^. 

159-60 In the long sabbath of high self-content. 

Cleans'd from the fleshly passions that bedim 4°. 
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. 

j6i om. 1808. 



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 

^ First published in the Morning Post, March 10, 1798 (with an intro- 
ductory 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. 

The Raven — 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. 
I 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. 


He i>ickeil up the acorn ami buried it straij^ht 
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 ' 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 I 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 W^oodman 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. 

^ 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. 

15 O'er hill, o'er dale M. P. 17 with] on MS. S. T. C. 20 

came back] returned 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, 1825, 1829. 


He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls — 

See ! see ! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls ! 40 

Eight glad was the Raven, and off he w^ent 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 w^as sweet ! 


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. 

1 First published in the Morning Post, December 7, 1797 : included in 
the Annual Anthologtj, 1800, in Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834. For 
MS. sent to Cottle, see E. R. 1834, i. 213, 214. 

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. 0. 42-3 om. MS. S. T. C. 44 Revenge 
was sweet. A71. Anth., MS. S. T. C, S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829. 

After 1. 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.* 
* Added thro' cowardly fear of the Goody ! What a Hollow, where the 
Heart of Faith ought to be, does it not betray ? tliis 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 — 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. 218 : To an Unfortunate Woman whom 
the Author knew in the days of her Innocence. Composed at the 
Theatre An. Anth. 1800. i 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. 


Soft tho glancos of the Youth, 

Soft his speech, and soft his sigh ; 
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. 

Witli 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. 

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, 

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, 

Upward to the Day-Star spring, 

And embathe in heavenly light. 



Myrtle-leaf that, ill besped, 

Finest in the gladsome ray, 
Soil'd beneath the common tread 

Far from thy protecting spray ! 

1 First published in 1797 : included in 1803, Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, 
and 1834. 

14 Maiden] Suflferer 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 whom, &c. — Title] Allegorical Lines on the 
Same Subject MS. Cottle. 


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. 




With some Foems 

Notus in fratres animi paterni. 

HoR. Carm. lib. ii. 2. 

A BLESSED 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 

^ First published as the Dedication to the Poems of 1 797 : 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. 

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— 'M.oiio^ lib. i. 2 S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834. 


And Iiaply views his totterin^^ little ones 

Enihrace those aged knees and climb that lap, 

On which first kneeling liis own infancy 

LispM its brief prayer. Such, O my earliest Friend I 

Tliy lot, and such thy brothers too enjoy. lo 

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 ))lest and blessing may ye live ! 

To me the Eternal Wisdom hath dispens'd 15 

A different fortune and more diffeient 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 

lo Thine and thy Brothers' favourable lot. 180S. 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. 


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 I 

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, 6o 

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 ! 

These 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 eiTor 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. 

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 1884. Between 66-7 Or the high raptures of 

prophetic Faith 1797, 1803. 68 strains] songs 1797, 1803. 



This <l;iy jiinong the faithl'ul 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, 35 

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. 

^ 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. 


It chanc'd I pass'd again that way 

In Autumn's latest hour. 
And wondering 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 




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 ! 

l^The Tabid is erected to the Memory of Richard Camplin, who 
died Jan. 20, 1792. 

* LiBtus abi ! mundi strepitu curisque remotus ; 

Laetus abi ! cseli qua vocat alma Quies. 
Ipsa fides loquitur lacrymamque incusat inanem. 

Quae cadit in vestros, care Pater, Cineres. 
Heu ! tantum liceat meritos hos solvere Ritus, 5 

Naturae et tremula dicere Voce, Vale ! '] 

^ First published in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 50. First collected in P. 
and D. W., 1877, ii. 365. 

6 Et longum tremula L. R. 1836. 



[addressed to CHARLES LAMB, OF THE 

INDIA iioi'SE, London] 

III the Juno of 1797 some long-expected frieiulH 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 
compostd tlie following lines in the garden-hower.^ 

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 

■ First published in the Annual Anthology, 1800, reprinted in Mylius' 
Poetical aassbook, 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. 

2 ' Ch. and Mary Lamb — dear to my heart, yea, aa it were my Heart. — 
S. T. C. iEt. 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.) 

This Lime-Tree, &c. — 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* 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, 170?. 
* 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 

1-28 Well they ai-e 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. 


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^ 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, ^ 

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 manj^-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, 

' ' Elastic, I mean.' MS. Letter to Smdhey. 

'^ The Asplenhnn Scolopendriiim, called in some counti'ies the Adder's 
Tongue, in others the Hart's Tongue, but Withering gives the Adder's 
Tongue as the trivial name of the Ophioglossinn only. 

4 my remembrance] to liave 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, wliich lightly 

touches An. Anth. 28 hast] had'st An. Anth. 31 patient] bowed 

MS. Letter to Son they. 34 beams] heaven MS. Letter io Southey. 



Ye piirplo lieatli-ilnwtrs ! richlier hurn, ye clouds I 35 

Live in tlie yellow li^'ht, ye distant groves I 

An<l kindle, tiiou Idue 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 

S}>irits 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 

38 foil. Struck with joy's deepest calm, and gazing round 
On the wide view * may gaze till all doth seem 
Less giioss 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 Soulhey. 
* You remember I am a Berkleyan. Note to Letter. 

40 wide] wild S.L. 

40 (for uild 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 foil. 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 foil. 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. 


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 ^ 
For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom 75 

No sound is dissonant which tells of Life. 

* 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 Ci*ane. ' 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.' 

55 branches] foliage MS. Letter to Southey. 56 and though the rapid 

bat MS. Letter to Southey. 60-64 orn. 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. 



[From Osorio, Act IV. Tli.' titlr an«l t.xt an- lu r.- jMiiitr.l fiom Lyronl 
Ballads, 171)8.] 

Fostir-^fothrr. 1 never saw tlie man whom yon descrilje. 

Maria. 'Tis strange ! he spake of you familiarly 
As mine and Albert's common Foster-mother. 

Foster-J\I oilier. Now blessings on the man, wlioe'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 

* First published in the first edition of the Lyrical Ballads, 1798, and 
reprinted in tlie 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 SihyU'me 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 pul)lished 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.] 

The Foster -Mother s TaZe— Title] Foster-Mother's Tale. (Scene— Spain) 
Cottle, 1837 : The, &c. A Narration in Dramatic Blank Verse L. B. 1800. 
In Remorse, App., 1818 and in 1828, 1829, 1834, the dramatis personae are 
respectively Teresa and Selma. The frag nent 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. 

I man] Moor Osorio, MS. I. 12-16 my dear Mother . . . She 

gazes idly ! om. 1813, 1828, 182'.), 1834. 12 me] us Cottle, 1837. 13 

the] yon Osorio, MS. I. 


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 ao 

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 learned 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. 

16 In Lyrical Ballads, ISOO, the scene begins witli the words : ' But that 
entrance'. But that entrance, Selma ? 1S13. 19 Leoni] Sesina 

1813, 1828, 1829, 1884. 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. 


And once, as by the north side of the Clmpel 

They stood togetlier, chain'd in deep discourse, 50 

The earth hoav'd under tlieni witli such a groan, 

That tlio wall totter'd. and liad woll-nigli fallen 

Right on their heads. My Lord was sorely frighten'd ; 

A fever seiz'd him, and lie 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 lie^Y 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. 

54 made a confession Osorio. A fever seiz'd the youth and he made 

confession Cottle, 18S7. 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 ISIS, 1828, 1829, 18S4. 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, 182^, 1829, 1834. younger] youngest 

S. L. 1817. 75 Leoni] Sesina 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834. 



[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 ; lo 

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 


' 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. 

I our] my Osorio, Act V, i. 107. 181S, 1828, 1829, 1834. man] men 

Osorio. 15 steams and vapour] steaming vapours Osorio, V, i. 121 : 

steam and vapours 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834. 



Facili' crt'do, pluri'S esse Naturas invisiltilcs <juain visiljilt-s in n-ruin 
universitftto. Sed liuruin oinniuin fainiliam (juis nobis cnarrabit V et 
^radus ft cogniitiones et discrimiiwi vt singuloruin munera ? (^iiid agunt ? 
(jiiae l«H'a habitant ? Hannn rtruni notitiani semper anibivit ingeniuni 
huinaniun, nunquani attigit. Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque 
in aniniu, tanquani in tabula, niajoiis et nielioris niundi imagineni con- 
tenijdari : ne mens assuefacta liodiernae vitae minutiis se contiahat nimis, 
et tota subsidat in pusillas cogitationes. Sed veritati interea invigilandum 
est, modus(iu«* servandus, lit certa ab inoertis, diem a nocte, distin- 
guanuis. — T. Burnei', Arcltaeol. Phil. p. 68,* 


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 tlie 
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.] ' 

* The Ancient Mariner was first published in the Lyrical Ballads, 1798. It 
was reprinted in the succeeding editions of 1800, 1802, and 1805. It was 
first published under the Author's name in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, and 
included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. For the full text of the poem as 
published in 1798, vide Appendices. The marginal glosses were added in 
1815-1816, when a collected edition of Coleridge's poems was being 
prepared for the press, and were first published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, but 
it is possible that they wore the work of a much earlier period. The text 
of the Ancient Mariner as reprinted in Lyrical Ballads, 1802, 1805 follows 
that of 1800. 

2 The text of the original passage is as follows : ' Facile credo, plures 
esse naturas invisibiles quam visibiles, in rerum universitate : plures- 
que Angelorum ordines in caelo, quam sunt pisces in mari : Sed horum om- 
nium familiam quis nobis enarrabit? Et gradus, et cognationes, et discri- 
mina, et singulorum munera ? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit 
ingenium humanum, nunquam attigit . . .Juvat utique non etc. : Archaeo- 
lugiae Philosophicae sive Doctrina Antiqua De Rerum Originibus. Libri Duo: 
Londini, mdcxcii, p. 68.' 

^ How a Ship, having first sailed to the Equator, was driven by- 
Storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole ; how the Ancient 
Mariner cruelly and in contempt of the laws of hospitality killed a Sea- 
bird and liow he was followed by many and strange Judgements : and in 
what manner he came back to his own Country. [L. B. 1800.] 

The Rime, &c. — Title] The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere. In Seven 
Parts L.B. 179S : The Ancient Mariner. A Poet's Reverie L.BA800, 1802, 1805. 

[^o^e.— The •' Argument ' was omitted in L. B. 1802, 1805, Sibylline Leaves, 
1817, and in 1828, 1829, and 1834J 


An ancient 
Mariner meet- 
eth three Gal- 
lants bidden 
to a wedding- 
feast, and de- 
taineth one. 

The Wedding- 
Guest is spell- 
bound by the 
eye of the old 
seafaring man, 
and con- 
strained to 
hear his tale. 

Part I 

It is an ancient Mariner, 

And he stoppeth one of three. 

' By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, 

Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? 

The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, 5 
And I am next of kin ; 
The guests are met, the feast is set : 
May'st hear the merry din/ 

He holds him with his skinny hand, 
'There was a ship,' quoth he. 10 

' Hold off ! unhand me, grey-beard loon ! ' 
Eftsoons his hand dropt he. 

He holds him with his glittering eye — 
The Wedding-Guest stood still, 
And listens like a three years' child: 15 

The Mariner hath his will. 

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone : 

He cannot choose but hear ; 

And thus spake on that ancient man. 

The bright-eyed Mariner. 20 

' The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, 

Merrily did we drop 

Below the kirk, below the hill, 

Below the lighthouse top. 

The Sun came up upon the left, 25 

Out of the sea came he ! 
And he shone bright, and on the right 
Went down into the sea. 

The Mariner 
tells how the 
ship sailed 
with a good 
wind and fair 
weather, till it 
reached the 

Part I] I L. B. 1798, ISOO. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. In Seven 

Parts. S. X., 1828, 1829. i It is an ancyent Marinere L. B. 1798 [ancient 

is spelled ' ancyent ' and Mariner ' Marinere ' throughout L.B. 1798]. 3 thy 

glittering eye L. B. 1798, 1800. 4 stopp'st thou] stoppest L. B. 1798, ISOO. 

Betireen 8 and 13 

But still he holds the wedding guest — 

There was a Ship, quoth he — 
' Nay, if thou'st got a laughsome tale, 

' Marinere, [Mariner ! 1800'] come witli me.' 

He holds him with his skinny hand — 

Quoth he, there was a Ship — 
Now get thee hence thou greybeard Loon ! 

Or my Staff shall make thee skip. L. E. 1798, 1800. 


Tlie WechlinK- 
Ouost heart'th 
the bridal 
music ; hut 
tht' MariiuT 
his tale. 

The ship 
driven by a 
storm toward 
the south pole. 

lli^lier ami higher every day, 
Till over the mast at noon ' 30 

The Weilding-Guest here })eat his breast, 
For he heard the loud bassoon. 

The bride hath paced into the hall, 

Red as a rose is she ; 

Nodding their heads ))efore her goes 35 

The merry minstrelsy. 

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, 

Yet he cannot choose but hear ; 

And thus spake on that ancient man, 

The bright-eyed Mariner. 40 

'And now the Storm-blast came, and he 
Was tyrannous and strong : 
He struck with his overtaking wings, 
And chased us south along. 

With sloping masts and dipping prow, 45 

As who pursued with yell and blow 

Still treads the shadow of his foe. 

And forward bends his head, 

The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast. 

And southward aye we fled. 50 

And now there came both mist and snow. 
And it grew wondrous cold : 
And ice, mast-high, came floating by. 
As green as emerald. 

Behceen 40 and 55 

Listen, Stranger I Storm and Wind, 

A Wind and Tempest strong ! 
For days and weeks it play'd us freaks — 
Like chaff we drove along. 

Listen Stranger ! Mist and Snow, 

And it grew wondrous cauld ; 
And Ice mast-high came floating by 
As green as Emerauld. L. B. 1798. 
Betueen 40 and 51 

But now the Northwind came more fierce, 

There came a Tempest strong ! 
And Southward still for days and weeks 
Like Chaff we drove along. L. B. 1800. 
Lines 41-50 of the text were added in Sibylline Leaves, 1817. [Note. The 
emendation in the marginal gloss, 'driven' for 'drawn' first appears in 


The land of 
ice, and of 
fearful sounds 
where no 
living thing 
was to be seen. 

Till a great 
called the 
came through 
the snow-fog, 
and was 
received with 
great joy and 

And lo ! the 
proveth a bird 
of good omen, 
and followeth 
the ship as it 
through fog 
and floating 

The ancient 
killeth the ' 
pious bird of 
good omen. 

And through the drifts the snowy clifts 55 
Did send a dismal sheen : 
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken — 
The ice was all between. 

The ice was here, the ice was there, 
The ice was all around : 60 

It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, 
Like noises in a swound ! 

At length did cross an Albatross, 
Thorough the fog it came ; 

As if it had been a Christian soul, 65 

We hailed it in God's name. 

It ate the food it ne'er had eat, 

And round and round it flew. 

The ice did split with a thunder-fit ; 

The helmsman steered us through ! 70 

And a good south wind sprung up behind ; 

The Albatross did follow. 

And every day, for food or play. 

Came to the mariner's hollo ! 

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, 75 

It perched for vespers nine ; 
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white. 
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.' 

^ God save thee, ancient Mariner ! 
From the fiends, that plague thee thus ! — 80 
Why look'st thou so?' — With my cross-bow 
I shot the Albatross. 

Part II 
The Sun now rose upon the right: 
Out of the sea came he. 
Still hid in mist, and on the left 
Went down into the sea. 


55 clifts] clift S.L. [probably a misprint. It is not corrected in the 
Errata.] 57 Nor . . . nor] Ne . . . ne L. B. 1798. 62 Like noises of a 

swound L. B. 1798 : A wild and ceaseless sound L. B. 1800. . 65 And an 
it were L. B. 1798 : As if MS. Corr. S. T. C. 67 Tlie Mariners gave it 

biscuit- worms L. J5. 1798,1800. 77 fog-smoke white] fog smoke-white 

L. B. 1798 {corr. in Errata). Part II] II L. B. 1798, 1800 : The Rime of 

the Ancient Mariner, Part the Second, S. L. 1828, 1829. 83 The Sun 

came up L. B. 1798. 85 And broad as a weft upon the left L. B. 1798. 


And the good south wind .still lilcw hcliind, 

l>ut no sweet hiid did follow. 

Nor any day for food or |)lay 

Came t«> the mariners' hollo I 90 

And I had done a hellish thing, 

And it would work 'em woe : 

For all averred, I had killed the hird 

That made the breeze to blow. 

Ah wretch ! said they, the bird to slay, 95 

That made the breeze to blow ! 

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, 

The glorious Sun uprist : 

Then all averred, I had killed the bird 

That brought the fog and mist. 100 

'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay. 

That bring the fog and mist. 

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, 
The furrow followed free : 

We were the first that ever burst 105 

Into that silent sea. 

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 

'Twas sad as sad could be ; 

And we did speak only to break 

The silence of the sea ! no 

All in a hot and copper sky, 
The bloody Sun, at noon. 
Right up above the mast did stand, 
No bigger than the Moon. 

Day after day, day after day, 115 

We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; 

89 Nor] Ne L. B. 1798. 90 mariners'] Marinere's L. B. 1798, 1800, 

S. L. 1817 : Mariner's L.B. 1800. 91 a] an all editions to 1834. 95-6 om. 

L. B. 1798, 1800 : were added in Sibylline. Leaves. 97 Nor . . . nor] ne . . . ne 
L. B. 1798. like an Angel's head L. B. 1800. 103 The breezes blew 

L.B. 1798, 1800. 104 * The furrow stream'd oflF free S. L. iSir. 116 

nor . . . nor] ne . . . ne i. B. 1798. 

* In the former editions the line was, 

Tlie furrow follow'd free : 

But I had not been long on board a ship, before I perceived that this 
was the image as seen by a spectator from the shore, or from another 
vessel. From the ship itself, the Wake appears like a brook flowing off 
from the stern. Note to S. L. 1817. 

His .sliipnmtt'.s 
cry out ajfainst 
the ancit^nt 
MHrinor, for 
killing th.> 
liinl ol'p^<K)d 

But when the 
fog cleared 
off, they 
justify the 
same, aii<l 
thus make 
in the crime. 

The fair breeze 
continues ; 
the ship enters 
the Pacific 
Ocean, and 
sails north- 
ward, even 
till it reaches 
the Line. 

The ship hath 
been suddenly 


And the Alba- 
tross begins to 
be avenged. 

As idle as a painted ship 
Upon a painted ocean. 

Water, water, every where, 
And all the boards did shrink ; 
Water, water, every where, 
Nor any drop to drink. 

The very deep did rot : O Christ ! 
That ever this should be ! 
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs 
Upon the slimy sea. 

About, about, in reel and rout 
The death-fires danced at night ; 
The water, like a witch's oils, 
Burnt green, and blue and white. 



And some in dreams assured were 
Of the Spirit that plagued us so ; 
Nine fathom deep he had followed us 
From the land of mist and snow. 

A Spirit had 
followed them ; 
one of the in- 
visible inhabi- 
tants of this 
planet, neither 
departed souls 

nor angels ; concerning whom the learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic 
Constantinopolitan.. Michael Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, 
and there is no climate or element without one or more. 

And every tongue, through utter drought, 135 

Was withered at the root ; 

We could not speak, no more than if 

We had been choked with soot. 

Ah ! well a-day ! what evil looks 

Had I from old and young! 140 

Instead of the cross, the Albatross 

About my neck was hung. 

sign whereof they hang the dead sea-bird round his neck. 

122 Nor] Ne L. B. 1798. 123 deep] deeps L. B. 1798, 1800. 

139 well a-day] wel-a-day L.B. 1798, 1800. 

The shipmates, 
in their sore 
distress, would 
fain throw the 
whole guilt on 
the ancient 
Mariner : in 


The ftiicit'nt 
Mariner Ih>- 
holdeth a sif^n 
in the element 
afar off. 

At its nearer 
approach, it 
seemeth him 
to be a ship ; 
and at a dear 
ransom he 
freeth his 
speech from 
the bonds of 

Paht III 

There passed a weary time. Each throat 

Was parched, and glazed each eye. 

A weary time ! a weary time ! 145 

How glazed each weary eye, 

When looking westward, I beheld 

A something in the sky. 

At first it seemed a little speck, 

And then it seemed a mist; 150 

It moved and moved, and took at last 

A certain shape, I wist. 

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist ! 

And still it neared and neared : 

As if it dodged a water-sprite, 155 

It plunged and tacked and veered. 

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, 
We could nor laugh nor wail ; 
Through utter drought all dumb we stood ! 
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, 160 

And cried, A sail ! a sail ! 

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, 
Agape they heard me call : 

Between 143 and 149 

I saw a something in the sky 

No bigger than my fist ; 
At first it seem'd, &c. L. B. 1798. 
Between 143 and 147 

So past a weary time, each throat 

Was parch'd and glaz'd each eye, 
When looking westward, &c. L. B. 1800. 
[Lines 143-8 of the text in their present shape were added in Sibylline 
Leaves, 1817.~\ 

Part III] III L. B. 1798, 1800 : The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Part 
the Third, S. L. 1828, 1829. 

154 And still it ner'd and ner'd. L. B. 1798, 1800. 155 And, an it 

dodg'd L. B. 1798 : And, as if it dodg'd L. B. 1800, S. L. 1817. 
157-60 With throat unslack'd with black lips baked 
Ne could we laugh, ne wail, 
Then while thro' drouth all dumb they stood 
I bit my arm, and suck'd the blood L.B. 1798. 
157 With throat unslackM, &c. L.B. 1800, 1802, S.L. 1817. 160 Till 
I bit my arm and suck'd the blood L.B. 1800. 162 With throat un- 

slack'd, &c. L. B. 1798, 1800, 1802, S. L. 1817. 


A flash of joy; Gramercy ! they for joy did grin, 
And all at once their breath drew 
As they were drinking all. 


And horror 
follows. For 
can it be a 
ship that 
comes onward 
without wind 
or tide ? 

See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more ! 

Hither to work us weal ; 

Without a breeze, without a tide, 

She steadies with upright keel ! 1 70 

The western wave was all a-flame. 

The day was well nigh done ! 

Almost upon the western wave 

Rested the broad bright Sun ; 

When that strange shape drove suddenly 175 

Betwixt us and the Sun. 

And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, 
(Heaven's Mother send us grace !) 
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered 
With broad and burning face. 180 

Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) 
How fast she nears and nears ! 
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, 
Like restless gossameres? 

Are those her ribs- through which the Sun 
Did peer, as through a grate ? 
And is that Woman all her crew? 
Is that a Death ? and are there two ? 
Is Death that woman's mate? 


It seemeth 
him but the 
skeleton of 
a ship. 

And its ribs 
are seen as 
bars on the 
face of the 
setting Sun. 
The Spectre- 
Woman and 
her Death- 
mate, and no 
other on 
board the 
skeleton ship. 

167-70 She doth not tack from side to side — 

Hither to work us weal. 
Witliouten wind, withouten tide 

She steddies with upright keel. L. B. 1798. 
170 She steddies L. B. 1800, S. L. 1817. 177 straight] strait L.B. 

1798, ISOO. 182 neres and neres L. B. 1798, 1800. 183 her] her 

1834, and also in 185 and 190. 

Between 184-90 Are those her naked ribs, which fleck'd 
The sun that did behind them peer? 
And are those two all, all the crew,* 

That woman and her fleshless Pheere? 
His bones were black with many a crack, 

All black and bare I ween ; 
Jet-black and bare, save where with rust 
Of mouldy damps and charnel crust 

They're patch'd with purple and green. L. B. 1798. 

* those] these Errata, L. B. 1798. 


Like vessel, Hry li^s Wore red, her looks were free, 190 

like rrew ! tt i i n 11 

Her locks were yellow as gold : 

Death and x -, i 

Life-in-i).atii Her skiii was as white as leprosy, 

have diced for rpj NitxHt-maiv Life-in-Dkath was she, 

the ships " 

crew, and she Who thicks mail's blood witli cold. 

(the latter) 

rnei"nt''''^ '^"^'^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^^ alongside came, 195 

Mariner. And the twain were casting dice ; 

' The game is done ! I've won ! I've won ! ' 

Quoth she, and whistles thrice. 

Are those her ribs which fleck'd the Sun 

Like the bars of a dungeon grate ? 
And are those two all, all the crew 

That woman and her mate? 

MS. Correction ofS. T. C. in L. B. 179S. 

Are those her Ribs, thro' which the Sun 

Did peer as thro' a grate ? 
And are those two all, all her crew, 

That Woman, and her Mate? 

His bones were black with many a crack 

They were patch'd with purple and green. L. B. ISOO. 

This Ship it was a plankless thing, 

— A bare Anatomy ! 

A plankless spectre — and it mov'd 

Like a Being of the Sea ! 

The woman and a fleshless man 

Therein sate merrily. 

His bones were black, &c. (as in 1800). 

This stanza was found added in the handwriting of the Poet in the 
margin of a copy of the Bristol Edition [1798] of Lyrical Ballads. It is 
here printed for the first time. Note P. and D. W., 1877-80, ii. 86. 

190-4. Her lips are red, her looks are free, 

Her locks are yellow as gold : 
Her skin is as white as leprosy, 
And she is far liker Death than he ; 

Her flesh makes the still air cold. L. B. 1798. 
Her lips were red, her looks were free, 

Her locks were as yellow as gold : 
Her skin was as white as leprosy, 
And she was far liker Death than he ; 

Her flesh made the still air cold. L B. 1800. 

196 casting] playing L.B. 1798, 1800. 197 The game is done, I've, 

I've won S. L 1817, 1828, 1829, 1884, 1844. The restoration of the text of 
1798 and 1800 dates from 1852. 198 whistles] whistled L. B. 1798, 1800. 


wrtwn^he^i The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: 

courts of the At One stride comes the dark; 200 

^^^' With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea, 

Off shot the spectre-bark. 

At the rising We listened and looked sideways up ! 

of the Moon, p^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^^^^ ^^ ^^ ^ ^^p^ 

My life-blood seemed to sip ! 205 

The stars were dim, and thick the night, 
The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white ; 
From the sails the dew did drip — 

1 Om. in Sibylline Leaves, 1817. 

Between 198-218 A gust of wind sterte up behind 

And whistled thro' his bones ; 
mu . i.1- \ holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth 
T*^^« ^^^UoleL.B. 1802, 1805 

Half-whistles and half-groans. 

With never a whisper in the Sea 

Off darts the Spectre-ship ; 
While clombe above the Eastern bar 
The horned Moon with one bright Star 

Almost atween the tips. 

[Almost between the tips. L. B. 1800.^ 
One after one by the horned Moon 

(Listen, Stranger ! to me) 
Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang 

And curs'd me with his ee. 
Four times fifty living men, 

With never a sigh or groan, L. B. 1798, 1800. 

Between 198-9 A gust of wind . . . half groans. S. L. (Page 15 erase 
the second stan/a. Errata, S. L., p. [xi].) 
Betwee^i 201-12 

With never a whisper on the main 

Off shot the spectre ship ; 
And stifled words and groans of pain 
•Mr- 'A 1 murmuring ) ,. 

Mixd on each trembling P^P- 

And we look'd round, and we look'd up, 
And fear at our hearts, as at a cup. 

The Life-blood seem'd to sip — 
The sky was dull, and dark the night, 
The helmsman's fi\ce by his lamp gleam'd bright, 

From the sails the dews did drip — 
Till clomb above the Eastern Bar, 
The horned Moon, with one bright star 

Within its nether tip. 

Undated MS. correction of S. T. C. {first puhlislied 1898). 
208 dew] dews S. L. 1817. 


One after 

His shipmates 
ilroji down 

But Life-in- 
Death begins 
her work on 
the ancient 

Till rlomb above the eastern bar 

The horned Moon, with one bright star 

Within the nether tij). 

One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, 
Too quick for groan or sigh, 
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, 
And cursed me with his eye. 

Four times fifty living men, 
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan) 
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump. 
They dropped down one by one. 

The souls did from their bodies fly, — 
They fled to bliss or woe ! 
And every soul, it passed me by, 
Like the whizz of my cross-bow^ ! 

The Wedding- 
Guest feareth 
that a Spirit 
is talking to 
him ; 

But the 
ancient Ma- 
riner assureth 
him of his 
bodily life, and 
proceedeth to 
relate his hor- 
rible penance. 

He despiseth 
the creatures 
of the calm, 

Part IV 

' I fear thee, ancient Mariner ! 

I fear thy skinny hand ! 

And thou art long, and lank, and brown. 

As is the ribbed sea-sand.^ 


I fear thee and thy glittering eye, 

And thy skinny hand, so brown.' — 

Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! 230 

This body dropt not down. 

Alone, alone, all, all alone. 

Alone on a wide wide sea ! 

And never a saint took pity on 

My soul in agony. 335 

The many men, so beautiful ! 
And they all dead did lie : 

' For the last two lines of this stanza, I am indebted to Mr. Wordsworth. 
It was on a delightful walk from Nether Stowey to Dulverton, with him 
and his sister, iu the Autumn of 1797, that this Poem was planned, and 
in part composed. [Note by S. T. C, first printed in SihylUne Leaves.] 

209 elomb] clombe S. L. 1817, 1828. 

Part IV] IV. L. B. 1798, 1800 : The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Part 
the Fourth S. L. 1828, 1829. 

220 The] Their L. B. 1798, 1800. 224 ancyent Marinere L. B. 1798. 

233-4 Alone on the wide wide sea ; 

And Christ would take no pity on L. B. 1798, 1800. 


And envieth 
that they 
should live, 
and so many 
lie dead. 

But the curse 
liveth for him 
in the eye of 
the dead men. 

And a thousand thousand slimy things 
Lived on; and so did I. 

I looked upon the rotting sea, 240 

And drew my eyes away ; 

I looked upon the rotting deck, 

And there the dead men lay. 

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray ; 
But or ever a prayer had gusht, 245 

A wicked whisper came, and made 
My heart as dry as dust. 

I closed my lids, and kept them close, 

And the balls like pulses beat ; 

For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky 250 

Lay like a load on my weary eye, 

And the dead were at my feet. 

The cold sweat melted from their limbs. 
Nor rot nor reek did they : 
The look with which they looked on me 255 
Had never passed away. 

An orphan's curse would drag to hell 

A spirit from on high ; 

But oh ! more horrible than that 

Is the curse in a dead man's eye I 260 

Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, 

And yet I could not die. 

The moving Moon went up the sky. 
And no where did abide : 
Softly she was going up, 
And a star or two beside — 


In his lone- 
liness and 
fixedness he 
yearneth to- 
wards the 
Moon, and the 
stars that still 
sojourn, yet 
still move 
onward ; and 
every where 
the blue sky The charmed water burnt aiway 270 

belongs to 

them, and is 

their appointed rest, and their native country and their own natural homes, 

which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected and yet 

there is a silent joy at their arrival. 

238 And a million, million slimy things L.B. 1798, ISOO. 242 

rotting] eldritch L. B. 1798 : ghastly L. B, 1800. 249 And] Till 

L. B. 1798, 1800. 251 load] cloud S. L. (for cloud read load. Errata, 

S. L., p. [xi]). 254 Ne rot, ne leek L. B. 1798. 260 the curse] 

a curse 1828, 1829. 268 Like morning frosts yspread L. B. 1798. 

Her beams bemocked the sultry main, 

Like April hoar-frost spread ; 

But where the ship's huge shadow lay. 

The charmed water burnt alway 

A still and awful red. 


By tbf light 
of the Miv.n h( 
Goil's crea- 
tures of the 
great calm. 

Beyond the shudow of tlie ship, 

I watched the water-snakes : 

They moved in tracks of sliining white, 

And when they reared, the elfish li^dit 

Fell off in hoary flakes. 


Their beauty 
and their 

He blesseth 
them in his 

Within the shadow of the ship 

I watched their rich attire : 

Blue, glossy green, and velvet black. 

They coiled and swam ; and every track 280 

Was a flash of golden fire. 

happy living things ! no tongue 

Their beauty might declare : 

A spring of love gushed from my heart, 

And I blessed them unaware : 285 

Sure my kind saint took pity on me, 

And I blessed them unaware. 

The spell 
begins to 

The self-same moment I could 
And from my neck so free 
The Albatross fell off, and sank 
Like lead into the sea. 



By grace of 

the holy 
Mother, the 
Mariner is 
refreshed with 

Part V 

Oh sleep ! it is a gentle thing. 
Beloved from pole to pole ! 
To^ Mary Queen the i:)raise ))e given ! 
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, 
That slid into my soul. 

The silly buckets on the deck, 

That had so long remained, 

I dreamt that they were filled with dew 

And when I awoke, it rained. 

My lips were wet, my throat was cold, 
My garments all were dank ; 
Sure I had drunken in my dreams. 
And still my body drank. 



Part V] V. L. B. 1708, 1800 : The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Part 
the Fifth S. L. lS!i8, 182U. 

294 To Mary-queen L.B. 1798, 1800. given] ycwn L. B. 1798. 300 
awoke] woke \a pencilled correction in 1828, ? by S. T. C). 


He heareth 
sounds and 
seeth strange 
sights and 
commotions in 
the sky and 
the element. 

I moved, and could not feel my limbs: 305 

I was so light — almost 

I thought that I had died in sleep, 

And was a blessed ghost. 

And soon I heard a roaring wind : 

It did not come anear ; 310 

But with its sound it shook the sails. 

That were so thin and sere. 

The upper air burst into life ! 

And a hundred fire-flags sheen, 

To and fro they were hurried about! 315 

And to and fro, and in and out. 

The wan stars danced between. 

And the coming wind did roar more loud. 
And the sails did sigh like sedge ; 
And the rain poured down from one black 
cloud ; 320 

The Moon was at its edge. 

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still 

The Moon was at its side : 

Like waters shot from some high crag, 

The lightning fell with never a jag, 325 

A river steep and wide. 

The loud wind never reached the shi^j, 

Yet now the ship moved on ! 

Beneath the lightning and the Moon 

The dead men gave a groan. 330 

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, 
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ; 

309 The roaring wind ! it roar'd far off L. B. 1798. 313 burst] 

bursts L, B. 1798. 315 were] are L. B. 1798. 317 The stars dance on 

between. L. B. 1798. 

3x7-24 The coming wind doth roar more loud; 

The sails do sigh, like sedge : 
The rain pours down from one black cloud 

And the Moon is at its edge. 
Hark ! hark ! the thick black cloud is cleft, 
And the Moon is at its side L. B. 1798. 
325 fell] falls L. B. 1798. 
327-8 The strong wind rcach'd the ship : it roar'd 

And dropp'd down like a stone ! L. B. 1798. 
332 nor . . , nor] ne . . . ne L. B. 1798. 

The bodies of 
the ship's crew 
arc inspired 
S. L.] and the 
ship moves 
on ; 


It had been strange, even in a dream. 
To have seen those dead men ri.-ie. 

But not by the 
souls of the 
men, nor by 
daemons of 
eiirth or 
middle air, but 
by a blessed 
troop of 
angelic spirits, 
sent down by 
the invocation 
of the guar- 
dian saint. 

The helmsman steered, the ship moved on ; 335 

Yet never a breeze up-blew ; 

The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, 

Where they were wont to do ; 

They raised their limbs like lifeless tools — 

We were a ghastly crew. 340 

The body of my brother's son 
Stood by me, knee to knee : 
The body and I pulled at one rope, 
But he said nought to me. 


' I fear thee, ancient Mariner I ' 
Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest I 
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain. 
Which to their corses came again, 
But a troop of spirits blest : 

For when it dawned — they dropped their arms. 
And clustered round the mast; 351 

vSweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths. 
And from their bodies passed. 

Around, around, flew each sweet sound. 
Then darted to the Sun ; 
Slowly the sounds came back again, 
Now mixed, now one by one. 

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky 
I heard the sky-lark sing ; 
Sometimes all little birds that are, 
How they seemed to fill the sea and air 
With their sweet jargoning ! 

And now 'twas like all instruments, 
Now like a lonely flute ; 
And now it is an angel's song. 
That makes the heavens be mute. 




Bctn-een 344-5 

And I quak'd to think of my own voice 
How fiiglitful it would be ! L. B. 1708. 
345-9 ovi. in L. B. It^S, added in L. B. ISOO. 350 The daylight da-svn'd 

L. B. ms. 359 sky-lark] Lavrock L. B. nUS. 


The lonesome 
Spirit from 
the south-pole 
carries on the 
ship as far as 
the Line, in 
obedience to 
the angelic 
troop, but still 

It ceased ; yet still the sails made on 

A pleasant noise till noon, 

A noise like of a hidden brook 

In the leafy month of June, S/o 

That to the sleeping woods all night 

Singeth a quiet tune. 

Till noon we quietly sailed on. 

Yet never a breeze did breathe: 

Slowly and smoothly went the ship, 375 

Moved onward from beneath. 

Under the keel nine fathom deep, 

From the land of mist and snow, 

The spirit slid : and it was he 

That made the ship to go. 380 

The sails at noon left off their tune. 

And the ship stood still also. 

The Sun, right up above the mast, 

Had fixed her to the ocean : 

But in a minute she 'gan stir, 385 

With a short uneasy motion — 

Backwards and forwards half her length 

With a short uneasy motion. 

Then like a pawing horse let go. 

She made a sudden bound : 39° 

Between 372-3 

Listen, O listen, thou Wedding-guest ! 

* Marinere ! thou hast thy will : 
* For that, which comes out of thine eye, doth make 

< My body and soul to be still.' 

Never sadder tale w^as told 

To a man of woman born : 
Sadder and wiser thou wedding-guest ! 

Thoul't rise to-morrow morn. 
Never sadder tale was heard 

By a man of woman born : 
The Marineres all returned to work 

As silent as beforne. 
The Marineres all 'gan pull the ropes, 

But look at me they n'old ; 
Til ought I, I am as thin as air — 

They cannot me behold. L. B. 17'jS. 

373 quietly] silently L. B. 179S, ISOU. 


It ihmg till' blood into my lieud, 
And I fell down in a swound. 

The Polar 
Spirit's fellow- 
(lirmons, the 
invisible in- 
hiibitunts of 
the clement, 
take part in 
his wrong; 
and two of 
thorn relate, 
one to the 
other, that 
jienance long 
and hea\'y for 
the ancient 
Mariner hath 
been accorded 
to the Polar 
Spirit, who 

How long in that same fit I lay, 
I have not to declare ; 
But ere my living life returned, 
I heard and in my soul discerned 
Two voices in the air. 

'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man? 
By him who died on cross. 
With his cruel bow he laid full low 
The harmless Albatross. 

The spirit who bideth by himself 
In the land of mist and snow, 
He loved the bird that loved the man 
Who shot him with his bow.' 

The other was a softer voice. 

As soft as honey-dew : 

Quoth he, ' The man hath penance done, 

And penance more will do.' 




Part VI 


' But tell me, tell me ! speak again. 
Thy soft response renewing — 
What makes that ship drive on so fast? 
What is the ocean doing ? ' 



' still as a slave before his lord. 
The ocean hath no blast ; 
His great bright eye most silently 
Up to the Moon is cast — 

If he may know w^hich way to go ; 
For she guides him smooth or grim. 
See, })rother, see ! how graciously 
She looketh down on him.' 

392 down in] into L. B. 17VS, ISOO. 

Part VI] VI. L. B. 179S, 1800 : The Rime of tlie Ancient Mariner, 
tlie Sixth S.L. 1828, 1829. 






The Mariner 
hath been 
cast into a 
trance: for the 
angelic power 
causeth the 
vessel to drive 
taster than 
human life 
could endure. 

The super- 
natural motion 
is retarded ; 
the Mariner 
awakes, and 
his penance 
begins anew. 

The curse is 
finally ex- 

'But why drives on that ship so fast, 
Without or wave or wind?' 


'The air is cut away before, 
And closes from behind. 

FJy, brother, fly ! more high, more high I 
Or we shall be belated : 
For slow and slow that ship will go. 
When the Mariner's trance is abated.' 



I woke, and we w^ere sailing on 

As in a gentle weather: 

'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high ; 

The dead men stood together. 

All stood together on the deck, 
For a charnel-dungeon fitter: 
All fixed on me their stony eyes, 
That in the Moon did glitter. 


The pang, the curse, with which they died, 
Had never passed away : 

I could not draw my eyes from theirs, 440 
Nor turn them up to pray. 

And now this spell was snapt : once more 

I viewed the ocean green. 

And looked far forth, yet little saw 

Of what had else been seen — 445 

Like one, that on a lonesome road 

Doth walk in fear and dread. 

And having once turned round walks on, 

And turns no more his head ; 

Because he knows, a frightful fiend 450 

Doth close behind him tread. 

440-1 een from theirs ; Ne turn 

423 Withouten wave L. B. 1798. 
L. B. 1798. 

442-6 And in its time the spell was snapt, 

And I could move my een : 
I look'd far-forth, but little saw 

Of what might else be seen. L. B. 1798. 
446 lonesome] lonely L. B. 1798. 


But soon there breathed a wind on me. 

Nor sound nor motion made : 

Its path was not upon the sea, 

In ripple or in sliade. 455 

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek 
Like a meadow-gale of spring — 
It mingled strangely with my fears, 
Yet it felt like a welcoming. 

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship. 460 

Yet she sailed softly too : 
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze — 
On me alone it blew. 

And the Oh ! dream of joy ! is this indeed 

Zi^ner^^e. The light-house top I See? 465 

hoideth his Is this the hill ? is this the kirk ? 

country. Is tliis mine own counti'fee? 

We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, 

And I with sobs did pray — 

O let me be awake, my God ! 470 

Or let me sleep alway. 

The harbour- bay was clear as glass, 

So smoothly it was strewn ! 

And on the bay the moonlight lay, 

And the shadow of the Moon. 475 

453 Nor . . . nor] Ne . . . ue L. B. 1798. 464 dream L. B. 1798, 1800. 
Between 475-80 

The moonlight bay was white all o'er. 

Till rising frum the same, 
Full many shapes, that shadows were, 

Like as of torches came. 
A little distance from the jn-ow 

Those dark-red shadows were ; 
But soon I saw that my own flesh 

Was red as in a glare. 
I turn'd my head in fear and dread. 

And by the holy rood, 
The bodies had advanc'd, and now 

Before the mast they stood. 
They lifted up their stiff right arms, 

They held them strait and tight ; 
And each right-arm burnt like a torch, 

A torch that 's borne upright. 
Their stony eye-balls glitter'd on 

In the red and smoky light. 


The rock shone bright, the kirk no less. 
That stands above the rock: 
The moonlight steeped in silentness 
The steady weathercock. 

And the bay was white with silent light, 480 
Till rising from the same, 
The angelic Full many shapes, that shadows were, 

spirits leave -j- . ■, 

the dead I^ crimson colours came. 

^^^®^' A little distance from the prow 

And appear in . i i 

their own Those crimson shadows were : 485 

forms of light. J turned my eyes upon the deck— 
Oh, Christ I what saw I there ! 

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, 

And, by the holy rood ! 

A man all light, a seraph- man, 490 

On every corse there stood. 

This seraph-band, each waved his hand : 

It was a heavenly sight ! 

They stood as signals to the land. 

Each one a lovely light ; 495 

This seraph -band, each waved his hand. 

No voice did they impart — 

No voice ; but oh ! the silence sank 

Like music on my heart. 

But soon I heard the dash of oars, 500 

I heard the Pilot's cheer : 

My head was turned perforce away. 

And I saw a boat appear. 

I pray'd and turn'd my liead away 

Forth looking as before. 
There was no breeze upon the bay. 

No wave against the shore. Z. B. 1798. 
487 Oh, Christ !] Clirist L. B. 1798, 1800. 498 oh !] L. B. 1798, 

ISOO. 500 But soon] Eftsones L. B. 1798. 

Beticeen 503-4 

Then vanisli'd all the lovely lights ;* 

The bodies rose anew : 
"With silent pace, each to his place, 

Came back the ghastly crew, 
The wind, that shade nor motion made, 
On me alone it blew. L. B. 1798. 

* Then vanish'd all the lovely lights. 
The spirits of the air. 
No souls of mortal men were they, 
But spirits bright and fair. 

MS. Correction by S. T. C. in a copy of L. B, 1798. 


Tlie Pilot Jind tlio Pilot's ])o\ , 

I heard tlieni coming last : 

Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy 

The d(iad men could not Idast. 

I saw a third— I heard his voice: 

It is the Hermit good ! 

He singeth loud his godly hymns 

That he makes in the wood. 

He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away 

The Albatross's blood. 

The Hermit of 
the Wood, 

Part VII 

This Hermit good lives in that wood 

Which slopes down to the sea. 515 

How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! 

He loves to talk with marineres 

That come from a far countree. 

He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — 
He hath a cushion plump: 520 

It is the moss that wholly hides 
The rotted old oak-stump. 

The skiff-boat neared : I heard them talk, 
' Why, this is strange, I trow ! 
Where are those lights so many and fair, 525 
That signal made but now?' 

' Strange, by my faith ! ' the Hermit said — 

' And they answered not our cheer ! 

The planks looked warped ! and see those sails, 

How thin they are and sere ! 530 

I never saw aught like to them, 

Unless perchance it were 

Brown skeletons of leaves that lag 
My forest-brook along ; 

511 makes] maketh (a pencilled correction in 1828, ? by S. T. C). 

Part VII] VII. L.B. 1798, 1800 : The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Part 
the Seventh S. L. 1829 : The Ancient Mariner. Part the Seventli 1S28. 

517 marineres] mariners L.B. 1800. 518 That come from a far 

Contree. L. B. 1798. 523 neared] ner'd L. B. 1798, 1800. 529 

looked] look L. B. 1798, 1800, S. L. 533 Brown] The L. B. 1798. 1800, 

S. L. [for The read Brown. Errata, S. L. 1817, p. (^xi)]. 

the ship with 


The ship 

The ancient 
Mariner is 
saved in the 
Pilot's boat. 



When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, 535 
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, 
That eats the she- wolfs young.' 

' Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look — 
(The Pilot made reply) 
I am a-feared ' — 'Push on, push on!' 
Said the Hermit cheerily. 

The boat came closer to the ship, 
But I nor spake nor stirred ; 
The boat came close beneath the ship, 
And straight a sound was heard. 

Under the water it rumbled on, 
Still louder and more dread : 
It reached the ship, it split the bay ; 
The ship went down like lead. 

Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, 550 

Which sky and ocean smote. 

Like one that hath been seven days drowned 

My body lay afloat ; 

But swift as dreams, myself I found 

Within the Pilot's boat. 555 

Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, 
The boat spun round and round ; 
And all was still, save that the hill 
Was telling of the sound. 

I moved my lips — the Pilot shrieked 560 

And fell down in a fit ; 

The holy Hermit raised his eyes. 

And prayed where he did sit. 

I took the oars : the Pilot's boy, 

Who now doth crazy go, 565 

Laughed loud and long, and all the while 

His eyes went to and fro. 

' Ha ! ha ! ' quoth he, ' full plain I see, 

The Devil knows how to row.' 

And now, all in my own countree, 
I stood on the firm land ! 
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat. 
And scarcely he could stand. 


543 nor . . . nor] ne . . . ne L. B. 1798. 


The uncieiit 
enrnestly on- 
treatoth tho 
Hormit t<> 
shric've him ; 
and tho 
penance of 
life falls on 

And ever and 
anon throngh- 
oiit his future 
life an agony 
const rainetli 
him to travel 
from land to 
land ; 

O slirievo me, shricve \uo, lioly man I ' 
The Hermit crossed his brow. 5 

'Say (luick,' quoth li«', 'I })id thee say — 
What manner of man art thou?' 

Forthwith tliis frame of mine was wrenched 

With a woful agony, 

Which forced me to begin my tale ; 

And then it left me free. 

Since then, at an uncertain hour, 
That agony returns : 
And till my ghastly tale is told, 
This heart within me burns. 



I pass, like night, from land to land ; 
I have strange power of speech ; 
That moment that his face I see, 
I know the man that must hear me : 
To him my tale I teach. 

What loud uproar bursts from that door ! 
The wedding-guests are there : 
But in the garden-bower the bride 
And bride-maids singing are : 
And hark the little vesper bell. 
Which biddeth me to prayer ! 

O Wedding-Guest ! this soul hath been 
Alone on a wide wide sea : 
So lonely 'twas, that God himself 
Scarce seemed there to be. 

O sweeter than the marriage-feast, 
'Tis sweeter far to me, 
To walk together to the kirk 
With a goodly company ! — 

To walk together to the kirk, 

And all together pray, 

While each to his great Father bends. 

Old men, and babes, and loving friends 

And youths and maidens gay ! 

577 What manner man L.B. 1708, 1800. 
582-5 Since then at an uncertain hour, 

Now ofttimes and now fewer. 
That anguish comes and makes me tell 

My ghastly aventure. L. B. 1798. 





583 agi.ny] agency [a misprint] L. B. 1800. 
1798, 1800. 

588 That] The L. B. 


And to teach, 
by his own 
example, love 
and reverence 
to all things 
that God made 
and loveth. 

Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell 
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest! 
He prayeth well, who loveth well 
Both man and bird and beast. 

He prayeth best, who loveth best 
All things both great and small ; 
For the dear God who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all. 



The Mariner, whose eye is bright, 

Whose beard with age is hoar. 

Is gone : and now the Wedding-Guest 620 

Turned from the bridegroom's door. 

He went like one that hath been stunned, 

And is of sense forlorn : 

A sadder and a wiser man, 

He rose the morrow morn. 625 




Pensive at eve on the hard world I mus'd, 
And my poor heart was sad : so at the Moon 

^ First published in the Monthly Magazine for November, 1797. They 
were reprinted in the Poetical Register for 1803 (1805) ; by Coleridge in the 
Biographia Literaria, 1817, i. 26-8* ; and by Cottle in Early Recollections, i. 
290-2 ; and in Reminiscences, p. 160. They were lirst collected in P. and 
D. W., 1877-80, i. 211-13. 

* ' Under the name of Nehemiah Higginbottom I contributed three 
sonnets, the first of which had for its object to excite a good-natured 
laugh at the spirit of doleful egotism and at the recurrence of favourite 
phrases, with the double defect of being at once trite and licentious. The 
second was on low creeping language and thoughts under the pretence 
of simplicity. The third,the phrases of which were borrowed entirelyfrom my 
own poems, on the indiscriminate use of elaborate and swelling language 
and imagei-y. ... So general at the time and so decided was the opinion 

6io Farewell, farewell] The coynyna to he omitted. Errat.t, L. B. 1798. 
The Marinere L. B. 1798. 

Sonnets, &c. — Title] Sonnet I M. M. 



I gazVl — and sighM, and .siu:h'd ! — for, all I how soon 

Eve darkens into night. Mine eye perus'd 

With tearful vacancy the dampy grass 

Which wept and glitter'd in the j^oh/ ray ; 

And / did pause me on my lonely way, 

And mused me on those wretched ones who pass 

O'er the black heath of Sorrow. But, alas ! 

Most of Mysdf I thought : when it hefell 

That the sooth Spirit of the hreezy wood 

Breath'd in mine ear — 'All this is very well; 

But much of one thing is for }io thing good.' 

Ah! my poor heart's inexplicable swell! 



I I do love thee, meek Simplicity ! 
For of thy lays the lulling simpleness 

Goes to my heart and soothes each small distress, 

Distress though small, j^et haply great to me ! 

'Tis true on Lady Fortune's gentlest pad 5 

1 amble on ; yet, though I know not why, 
So sad I am ! — but should a friend and I 
Grow cool and miff, ! I am very sad ! 

concerning tlie characteristic vices of my style that a celebrated physician 
(now alas ! no more) speaking of me in other respects with his usual 
kindness to a gentleman who was about to meet me at a dinner-party 
could not, however, resist giving him a liint not to mention The House that 
Jack Built in my presence, for that I was as sore as a boil about that 
sonnet, he not knowing that I was myself the author of it.' 

Coleridge's first account of these sonnets in a letter to Cottle [November, 
1797] is much to the same effect : — ' I sent to the Monthly Magazine (1797) 
three mock Sonnets in ridicule of my own Poems, and Charles Lloyd's 
and Lamb's, etc., etc., exposing that affectation of unaffectedness, of 
jumping and misplaced accent in common-place epithets, flat lines 
forced into poetry by italics (signifying how well and mouthishly the 
authorwould readthem, puny pathos, etc., etc. The instances were almost 
all taken from myself and Lloyd and Lamb. I signed them " Nehemiah 
Higginbottom ". I think they may do good to our young Bards.' \_E. R., 
i. 289; Rem. 160.] 

Sonnets,.&c. — i. 4 darkens] saddens B.L., i. 27. 6 Which] ThatS. L., 
i. 27. 8 those] the B. L., i. 27. who] that B. L., i. 27. 9 black] 

bleak B. L., i. 27. 14 Ah !] Oh ! B. L., i. 27. 11] Sonnet II. To 

Simplicity M.M. : no title in B.L. 6 yet, though] and yet B.L., i. 27. 

8 Frown, pout and part then I am very sad B. L., i. 27. 


And then with sonnets and with sympathy 

My dreamy bosom's mystic woes I pall ; lo 

Now of my false friend plaining plaintively, 

Now raving at mankind in general ; 

But, whether sad or fierce, 'tis simple all, 

All very simple, meek Simplicity ! 



And this reft house is that the which he built. 
Lamented Jack ! And here his malt he pil'd. 
Cautious in vain ! These rats that squeak so wild. 
Squeak, not unconscious of their father's guilt. 
Did ye not see her gleaming thro' the glade? 
Belike, 'twas she, the maiden all forlorn. 
What though she milk no cow with crumpled horn, 
Yet aye she haunts the dale where erst she stray'd ; 
And aye beside her stalks her amorous knight ! 
Still on his thighs their wonted brogues are worn, 
And thro' those brogues, still tatter'd and betorn, 
His hindward charms gleam an unearthly white ; 
As when thro' broken clouds at night's high noon 
Peeps in fair fragments forth the full-orb'd harvest-moon ! 


Almost awake ? Why, what is this, and whence, 

O ye right loyal men, all undefiled? 
Sure, 'tis not possible that Common-Sense 

Has hitch'd her pullies to each heavy eye-lid? 

^ First published in the Cawbndgre /w^eZ^i'gfencer, January 6, 1798: included 
in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : Essays on His own Titties, 1850, ill. 969-70. First 
collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80. In Sibylline Leaves the poem is in- 
correctly dated 1794. 

12 in gener-al Cottle, E. R., i. 288. 

m] Sonnet iii. To, &c. M.M. lo their] his CoUle, E. R., i. 292. 13 
As when] Ah I thus B. L., i. 27. 

Parliamentary Oscillalors — Title] To Sir John Sinclair, S. Thornton, Alder- 
man Lushington, and the whole Troop of Parliamentary Oscillators C. /. 

2 right] tight C. /. 3 It's hardly possible C. I. 


212 parliami:ntarv oscillators 

Yet wherefore else that start, wliich discomposes 5 

The drowsy waters lingering in your eye V 

And are you really able to descry 
That precipice three yards beyond your noses? 

Yet flatter you I cannot, that your wit 

Is much improved by this long loyal dozing; 10 

And I admire, no more than Mr. Pitt, 

Your jumj^s and starts of patriotic prosing — 

Now cluttering to the Treasury Cluck, like chicken, 
Now with small beaks the ravenous Bill opposing ; ^ 

With serpent-tongue now stinging, and now licking, 15 

Now semi-sibilant, now smoothly glozing — 

Now having faith implicit that he can't err, 
Hoping his hopes, alarm'd with his alarms ; 

And now believing him a sly inchanter, 

Yet still afraid to break his brittle charms, ao 

Lest some mad Devil suddenly unhamp'ring. 

Slap-dash ! the imp should fly off with the steeple, 

On revolutionary broom-stick scampering. — 
ye soft-headed and soft-hearted people. 

If you can stay so long from slumber free, 35 

My muse shall make an effort to salute 'e : 
For lo ! a very dainty simile 

Flash'd sudden through my brain, and 'twill just suit 'e ! 

You know that water-fowl that cries, Quack 1 Quack ! ? 

Full often have I seen a waggish crew 30 

Fasten the Bird of Wisdom on its back, 

The ivy-haunting bird, that cries, Tu-whoo ! 

Both plung'd together in the deep mill-stream, 

(Mill-stream, or farm-yard pond, or mountain-lake,) 

Shrill, as a Church mid Constitution scream, 35 

Tu-whoo ! quoth Broad-face, and down dives the Drake ! 

^ Pitt's ' treble assessment at seven millions ' which formed part of the 
budget for 1798. The grant was carried in the House of Commons, 
Jan. 4, 1798. 

9 But yet I cannot flatter you, your wit C. I. 14 the] his C.I. 

24 O ye aoft-heai-ted and soft-headed, &c. C. I. 26, 28 'e] ye C. I. 

29 that cries] which cries C.I. 30 Full often] Ditch-full oft O.I. 

31 Fasten] Fallen C. I. 


The green-neck'd Drake once more pops up to view, 

Stares round, cries Quack! and makes an angry pother; 

Then shriller screams the Bird with eye-lids blue. 

The broad-faced Bird ! and deeper dives the other. 40 

Ye quacking Statesmen ! 'tis even so with you — 
One Peasecod is not liker to another. 

Even so on Loyalty's Decoy-pond, each 

Pops up his head, as fir'd with British blood, 
Hears once again the Ministerial screech, 45 

And once more seeks the bottom's blackest mud ! 

{Signed: Laberius.) 



The first part of the following poem was written in the 
year 1797, at Stowey, in the county of Somerset. The 
second part, after my return from Germany, in the year 
1800, at Keswick, Cumberland. It is probable that if the 

1 First published, together with Kubla Khan and The Pains of Sleep, 
1816 : included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. Three MSS. of Christabel have 
passed through my liands. The earliest, which belonged to Wordsworth, 
is partly in Coleridge's handwriting and partly in that of Mary Hutchinson 
(Mrs. Wordsworth). The probable date of this MS., now in the possession 
of the poet's grandson, Mr. Gordon Wordsworth, is April-October, 1800. 
Later in the same year, or perhaps in 1801, Coleridge made a copy of 
the First Part (or Book), the Conclusion to the First Book, and the 
Second Book, and presented it to Mrs. Wordsworth's sister, Sarah 
Hutchinson. A facsimile of the MS., now in the possession of Miss Edith 
Coleridge, was issued in collotype in the edition of Christabel published in 

Preface] Prefixed to the three issues of 1816, and to 1828, 1829, 1834. 

Christabel — Preface. 2 The year one thousand seven hundred and ninety 
seven 1816, 1828, 1829. 3, 4 The year one thousand eight hundred 1816, 
1828, 1829. 4 after ' Cumberland'] Since the latter date, my poetic powers 
have been, till very lately, in a state of suspended animation. Bat as, in 
my very first conception of the tale, I had the whole present to my mind, 
with the wholeness, no less than the liveliness of a vision ; I trust that I 
shall be able to embody in verse the three parts yet to come, in the course 
of the present year. It is probable, &c. 1816, 1828, 1829 : om. 1884. 


j)oein liad ))epn finished at eitlier of the formor ])prio(ls, or 5 
if even the first and second part had been pnblislied in the 
year 18(X), the impression of its originality would liave been 
much greater than I dare at jirescnt expect. But for this 
I have only my own indolence to l)lame. The dates are 
mentioned for the exclusive purpose of precluding charges of 10 
plagiarisui or servile imitation from myself. For there is 
amongst us a set of critics, who seem to hold, that every 
possilde thought and image is traditional ; who have no 
notion tliat there are such things as fountains in the world, 
small as well as great ; an<l who would therefore charitably 15 

1907, under the auspices of the Royal Society of Literature. In 1801, or 
at some subsequent period (possibly not till 1815\ Miss Hutohinson tran- 
scribed Coleridge's MS. The water-mark of the paper is 1801. Her 
transcript, now in the possession of Mr. A. H. Ilallam Murray, was sent 
to Lord Byron in October, 1815. It is possible tliat this transcription was 
the 'copy' for the First Edition published in 1816; but, if so, Coleridge 
altered the text wliilst the poem was passing through the pres>. 

The existence of two other MSS. rests on the authority of John Payne 
Collier (see Seveji Lectures on Shakespeare and Milton. By S. T. Coleridge, 
1856, pp. xxxix-xliii). 

The first, which remained in his possession for many years, was a 
copy in the handwriting of Sarah Stoddart afterwards Mrs. Hazlitt). 
J. P. Collier notes certain differences between this MS., which lie calls 
the 'Salisbury Copy', and the text of the First Edition. He goes on 
to say that before Christabel was published Coleridge lent him an MS. 
in his own handwriting, and he gives two or three readings from the 
second MS. which differ from the text of the 'Salisbury Copy' and from 
the texts of those MSS. which have been placed in my hands. 

The copy of the First Edition of Christabel presented to William Stewart 
Rose's valet, David Hinves, on November 11, 1816, which Coleridge had 
alreadj' corrected, is now in the possession of Mr. John Murray. The 
emendations and additions inscribed on the margin of this volume were 
included in the collected edition of Coleridge's Poetical Works, published 
l)y William Pickering in 1828. The editions of 1829 and 1834 closely 
followed the edition of 1828, but in 1834 there was in one particular 
instance (Part I, lines 6-10) a reversion to the text of the First Edition. 
The MS. of the 'Conclusion of Part II' forms part of a letter to Southey 
dated May 6, 1801. {Lefters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 355.) The following abbre- 
viations have been employed to note the MSS. and transcriptions of 
Ohristabel : — 

1. The Wordsworth MS., partly in Coleridge's (lines 1-295), and partly 
in Maiy Hutchinson's lines 295-655) handwriting = ilfS. W. 

2. The Salisbury MS., copied by Sarah Stoddart = S. T. C. (a). 
:?. The MS. lent by Coleridge to Payne Collier = S. T. C. (b). 

4. Autograph MS. in possession of Miss Edith Coleridge (reproduced in 
facsimile in 1907) -S. T. C. (c\ 

5. Transcription made by Sarah Hutchinson = S. H. 

6. Corrections made by Coleridge in the Copy of the First Edition 
presented to David Hinves = fl'. 1810. 


derive every rill they behold flowing, from a perforation 
made in some other man's tank. I am confident, however, 
that as far as the present poem is concerned, the celebrated 
poets ^ whose writings I might be suspected of having 
imitated, either in particular passages, or in the tone and 20 
the spirit of the whole, would be among the first to vindicate 
me from the charge, and w^ho, on any striking coincidence, 
would permit me to address them in this doggerel version 
of two monkish Latin hexameters. ^ 

'Tis mine and it is likewise yours ; 25 

But an if this will not do ; 

Let it be mine, good friend ! for I 

Am the poorer of the two. 

I have only to add that the metre of Christabel is not, 
properly speaking, irregular, though it may seem so from its 30 
being founded on a new principle : namely, that of counting 
in each line the accents, not the syllables. Though the latter 
may vary from seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents 
will be found to be only four. Nevertheless, this occasional 
variation in number of syllables is not introduced wantonly, 35 
or for the mere ends of convenience, but in correspondence 
with some transition in the nature of the imagery or passion. 

Part I 

'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, 
And the owls have awakened the crowing cock ; 

Tu— w^hit ! Tu— whoo ! 

And hark, again ! the crowing cock, 

How drow^sily it crew. 5 

^ Sir Walter Scott and Lord Byron. 

2 The ' Latin hexameters ', ' in the lame and limping metre of a 
barbarous Latin poet ', ran thus : 

' Est meum et est tuum, amice ! at si amborum nequit esse, 
Sit meum, amice, precor : quia certe sum magi' pauper.' 

It is interesting to note that Coleridge translated these lines in November, 
1801, long before the ' celebrated poets ' in question had made, or seemed 
to make, it desirable to ' preclude a charge of plagiarism '. 

23 doggrel ISIG, 1S28, 1829. 

Part I] Book the First MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H. : Part the First 1S2S, 

3 Tu-u-wlioo : Tu-u-whoo ! MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H 


Sir Leuline, tlie Baron rich. 

Hath a toothless mast iff bitch; 

From her koDnol ])eneath the rock 

She maketh answer to the clock, 

Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour; lo 

Ever and aye, by shine and shower. 

Sixteen short howls, not over loud ; 

Some say, she sees my lady's shroud. 

Is the night chilly and dark? 

The night is chilly, but not dark. 15 

The thin gray cloud is spread on high, 

It covers but not hides the sky. 

The moon is behind, and at the full ; 

And yet she looks both small and dull. 

The night is chill, the cloud is gray: 20 

'Tis a month before the month of May, 

And the Spring comes slowly up this way. 

The lovely lady, Christabel, 

Whom her father loves so well. 

What makes her in the wood so late, 35 

A furlong from the castle gate ? 

She had dreams all yesternight 

Of her own betrothed knight ; 

And she in the midnight w^ood will pray 

For the weal of her lover that's far away. 30 

She stole along, she nothing spoke. 
The sighs she heaved were soft and low, 
And naught was green upon the oak 
But moss and rarest misletoe : 

6-7 Sir LeoHne the Baron bold 

Hath a toothless mastiff old H. 181G. 
Sir Leoline, the Baron rich, 

Hath a toothless mastiff which H. 1816, 1828, 1829, 1893. 
9 She makes MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H., First Edition : Maketh H. 1816, 1828, 
1829 1 1 moonshine or shower MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S.H., First Editioti : 

by shine or shower H. 1816. 

Between 28-9 Dreams, that made her moan and leap. 
As on her bed she lay in sleep. 

First Edition : Erased H. 1816 : Not in any MS. 
32 The breezes they were whispering low S. T. C. (a) : The breezes they 
were still also MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H., First Edition. 34 But the moss 

and misletoe Ms. W., S. T. C. (c), S.H, 


She kneels beneath the huge oak tree, 35 

And in silence prayeth she. 

The lady sprang up suddenly, 

The lovely lady, Christabel ! 

It moaned as near, as near can be, 

But what it is she cannot tell. — 40 

On the other side it seems to be, 

Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree. 

The night is chill ; the forest bare ; 

Is it the wind that moaneth bleak? 

There is not wind enough in the air 45 

To move away the ringlet curl 

From the lovely lady's cheek — 

There is not wind enough to twirl 

The one red leaf, the last of its clan, 

That dances as often as dance it can, 50 

Hanging so light, and hanging so high. 

On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky. 

Hush, beating heart of Christabel ! 
Jesu, Maria, shield her well ! 

She folded her arms beneath her cloak, 56 

And stole to the other side of the oak. 
What sees she there? 

There she sees a damsel bright, 

Drest in a silken robe of white. 

That shadowy in the moonlight shone: 60 

The neck that made that white robe wan. 

Her stately neck, and arms were bare ; 

Her blue-veined feet unsandal'd were. 

And wildly glittered here and there 

The gems entangled in her hair. 65 

35 kneels] knelt MS. W., S. T, C. (c), S. R. 37 sprang] leaps MS^W., 

S. T. C. (c), S.H., First Edition. 39 can] could H. 1816. 45-7 om. 

MS. W. 52 up] out MS. W., S. H. 54 Jesu Maria MS. W., 

S.T.C. (c), S.H. 

58-66 A damsel bright 

Clad in a silken robe of white, 
Her neck, her feet, her arms were bare, 
And the jewels were tumbled in her hair. 
I guess, &c. MS. W. 
60 om. MS. S. T. C. 
6r-6 Her neck, her feet, her arms were bare. 

And the jewels were tumbled in her hair. 
I guess, &c. S. T. C. (a), S. T. C. (g), S. H. 


1 guess, 'twas fnglitl'iil there to see 
A lady so richly clad as she — 
Beautiful exceedingly ! 

Mary mother, save me now ! 

(Said Christabel,) And who art thou? 70 

The lady strange made answer meet, 

And her voice was faint and sw^eet : — 

Have pity on my sore distress, 

I scarce can speak for weariness: 

Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear ! 75 

Said Christabel, How camest thou here ? 

And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet. 

Did thus pursue her answer meet: — 

My sire is of a noble line, 

And my name is Geraldine : 80 

Five warriors seized me j^estermorn. 

Me, even me, a maid forlorn : 

They choked my cries with force and fright. 

And tied me on a palfrey white. 

The palfrey was as fleet as wind, 85 

And they rode furiously behind. 

6r-6 Her neck, her feet, her arms were bare, 
And the jewels disorder'd in her hair. 
I guess, &c. First Edilion. 
65 And the jewels were tangled in her hair. S. T. C. (6). 

[In the Hinves copy (Nov., 1816), 11. 60-5 are inserted in the margin 
and the two lines ' Her neck . . . her hair ' are erased. This addition 
was included in 182S, 1829, 1834, &c.] 

74 scarce can] cannot H. 1810. 76 Said Christabel] Alas ! but say 

//■. 1810. 

81-3 Five ruffians seized me yestermorn, 

Me, even me, a maid forlorn ; 
They chok'd my cries with wicked might. 

MS. W., S. T. C. (a) ; MS. S. T. C. (c) ; S. H. 
Five warriors, &c. as in the text S. T. C. (6). 
[Lines 82, 83, 84I are erased in H. 1816. Lines 81-4, 89, 90, which 
Scott prefixed as a motto to Chapter XI of The Black Divarf {1818) , run 
thus : — 

Three ruffians seized me yestermorn, 
Alas ! a maiden most forlorn ; 
They choked my cries with wicked might. 
And bound me on a palfrey white : 
As sure as Heaven shall pity me, 
I cannot tell what men they be. Chrisfahel. 
The motto to Chapter XXIV of The Betrothed (1825) is slightly different :— 
Four Ruffians . . . palfrey white. 


They spurred amain, their steeds were white: 

And once we crossed the shade of night. 

As sure as Heaven shall rescue me, 

I have no thought what men they be ; 90 

Nor do I know how long it is 

(For I have lain entranced I wis) 

Since one, the tallest of the five, 

Took me from the palfrey's back, 

A weary woman, scarce alive. 95 

Some muttered words his comrades spoke: 

He placed me underneath this oak ; 

He swore they would return with haste ; 

Whither they went I cannot tell — 

I thought I heard, some minutes past, 100 

Sounds as of a castle bell. 

Stretch forth thy hand (thus ended she), 

And helj) a wretched maid to flee. 

Then Christabel stretched forth her hand. 

And comforted fair Geraldine : 105 

well, bright dame ! may you command 

The service of Sir Leoline ; 

And gladly our stout chivalry 

Will he send forth and friends withal 

To guide and guard you safe and free no 

Home to your noble father's hall. 

She rose : and forth with steps they passed 
That strove to be, and were not, fast. 

88 once] twice MS. W., S. T. C. {c), S. H. 92 For I have lain iu fits, 

I wis MS. W., S. T. C. (a), S. T. G. (c), 8. H., First Edition. [Text, which 
follows S. T. C. (&), E. 1816, was first adopted in 1828.'] 96 comrades] 

comrade MS. W. 98 He] The}^ MS. W. 

106-11 Saying that she should command 

The service of Sir Leoline ; 
And straight be convoy'd, free from thrall, 
Back to her noble father's hall. 

MS. TF., S. T. C. ic), S. H., First Edition. 
[Text, which follows H. 1816, was first adopted in 1828.] 
112-22 So up she rose and forth they pass'd 

With hurrying steps yet nothing fast. 
Her lucky stars the lady blest, 
And Christabel she sweetly said — 
All our household are at rest. 
Each one sleeping in his bed ; 

220 f'HIUSTAr.KL 

Her ti^racious stars tho lady l)lost. 

And thus spake on swwt Christabel : 115 

All our household are at rest, 

The hall as silent as the cell ; 

Sir Leoline is weak in health, 

And may not well awakened be. 

But we will move as if in stealth, 120 

And I beseech your courtesy, 

This night, to share your couch with me. 

They crossed the moat, and Christabel 

Took the key that fitted well; 

A little door she opened straight, 125 

All in the middle of the gate ; 

The gate that was ironed within and without, 

Where an army in battle array had marched out. 

The lady sank, belike through pain. 

And Christabel with might and main 130 

Lifted her up, a weary weight, 

Over the threshold of the gate : 

Then the lady rose again. 

And moved, as she were not in pain. 

So free from danger, free from fear, 135 

They crossed^ the court : right glad they were. 

And Christabel devoutly cried 

To the lady by her side, 

Praise we the Virgin all divine 

Who hath rescued thee from thy distress! 140 

Sir Leoline is weak in health, 

And may not awakened be, 

So to my room we'll creep in stealth, 

And you to-niglit must sleep with me. 

MS. W., S. T. C. (a), S. T. C. (c), S. H. 
[So, too, First Edition, with the sole variant, ' And may not well 
awakened be '.] 

114-T7 Her smiling stars the lady blest, 

And thus bespake sweet Christabel : 
All our household is at rest. 
The hall as silent as a cell. S. T. C. (&). 
[In H. 1816 11. 112-22 of the text are inserted in Coleridge's hand- 
writing. Line 113 reads: 'yet were not fast'. Line 122 reads: 'share 
your bed with me'. In 1828, 11. 117-22 were added to the text, and 
Her gracious stars' (1. 114) was substituted for ' Her lucky stars '.] 

137 And Christabel she sweetly cried MS. W., S.T. C. c\ S. H 139 

Praise we] praise MS. W., S. T. C. (c^, S. H. 


Alas, alas ! said Geraldine, 

I cannot speak for weariness. 

So free from danger, free from fear, 

They crossed the court: right glad they were. 

Outside her kennel, the mastiff old 145 

Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold. 

The mastiff old did not awake, 

Yet she an angry moan did make ! 

And what can ail the mastiff bitch ? 

Never till now she uttered yell 150 

Beneath the eye of Christabel. 

Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch : 

For what can ail the mastiff bitch? 

They passed the hall, that echoes still, 

Pass as lightly as you will ! 155 

The brands were flat, the brands were dying. 

Amid their own white ashes lying ; 

But when the lady passed, there came 

A tongue of light, a fit of flame ; 

And Christabel saw the lady's eye, 160 

And nothing else saw she thereby. 

Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall. 

Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall. 

softly tread, said Christabel, 

My father seldom sleepeth well. 165 

Sweet Christabel her feet doth bare. 

And jealous of the listening air 

They steal their way from stair to stair. 

Now in glimmer, and now in gloom. 

And now they pass the Baron's room, 170 

As still as death, with stifled breath ! 

And now have reached her chamber door ; 

145 Outside] Beside MS. W., S.T. C. (c), S. H. 146 Lay fast] Was 

stretch'd H. 1816. [Not in S. T. C.'s handwriting.] 160 om. 

S. T. C. (a). 161 And nothing else she saw thereby MS. W., S. T. C. 

(c), S. H. 163 niche] nitch all MSS. and First Edition. 

166-9 Sweet Christabel her feet she bares, 

And they are creeping up the stairs, 
Now in glimmer, and now in gloom. 

MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H., First Edition. 
167 Added in 1828. 171 With stifled breath, as still as death H. 1816. 

[Not in S. T. C.'s handwriting.] 


Antl now doth Gonihline press down 
The rushes of tlic chainb<^r floor. 

The moon shines dim in the open air, 175 

And not a moonbeam enters here. 

But they without its light can see 

The chamber carved so curiously. 

Carved with figures strange and sweet, 

All made out of the carver's brain, 180 

For a lady's chamber meet : 

The lamp with twofold silver chain 

Is fastened to an angel's feet. 

The silver lamp burns dead and dim ; 

But Christabel the lamp will trim. 1S5 

She trimmed the lamp, and made it bright. 

And left it swinging to and fro, 

While Geraldine, in wretched plight, 

Sank down upon the floor below. 

weary lady, Geraldine, 190 

1 pray you, drink this cordial wine ! 
It is a wine of virtuous powers ; 
My mother made it of wild flowers. 

And will your mother pity me, 

Who am a maiden most forlorn? 195 

Christabel answ^ered — Woe is me ! 

She died the hour that I was born. 

I have heard the grey-haired friar tell 

How on her death-bed she did say. 

That she should hear the castle-bell 200 

Strike twelve upon my wedding-day. 

mother dear ! that thou wert here ! 

1 would, said Geraldine, she were I 

173-4 And now they with their feet press down 

The rushes of her chamber floor. MS. W., ,b. T. C. (c), S. H. 

And now with eager feet press down 

The rushes of her chamber floor. 

First Edition, H. 1816. [Not in 8. T. C.'s handwriting.] 
191 cordial] spicy MS. W., S: T. C. [a), S. T. C. (c), S. H. 
Between 193-4 

Nay, drink it up, I pray you do, 

Believe me it will comfort you. 

3IS. W., S. T. C. (a , S. T. 0. (c), S. H. 
[The omission was made in the First Edition.] 


But soon with altered voice, said she — 

' Off, wandering mother ! Peak and pine ! 205 

I have power to bid thee flee.' 

Alas ! what ails poor Geraldine ? 

Why stares she with unsettled eye? 

Can she the bodiless dead espy? 

And why with hollow voice cries she, 210 

'Off, woman, off! this hour is mine — 

Though thou her guardian spirit be. 

Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me.' 

Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side. 

And raised to heaven her eyes so blue — 215 

Alas ! said she, this ghastly ride — 

Dear lady ! it hath wildered you ! 

The lady wiped her moist cold brow, 

And faintly said, ' 'tis over now ! ' 

Again the wild-flower wine she drank: 220 

Her fair large eyes *gan glitter bright, 

And from the floor whereon she sank. 

The lofty lady stood upright : 

She was most beautiful to see. 

Like a lady of a far countree. 235 

And thus the lofty lady spake — 

'All they who live in the upper sky, 

Do love you, holy Christabel ! 

And you love them, and for their sake 

And for the good which me befel, 230 

Even I in my degree will try. 

Fair maiden, to requite you well. 

But now unrobe yourself ; for I 

Must praj^ ere yet in bed I lie.' 

Quoth Christabel, So let it be ! 235 

And as the lady bade, did she. 
Her gentle limbs did she undress. 
And lay down in her loveliness. 

But through her brain of weal and woe 

So many thoughts moved to and fro, 240 

That vain it were her lids to close ; 

So half-way from the bed she rose, 

205-10, 212 om. MS. W. 219 And faintly said I'm better now MS. 

W., S, T. C. (a) : I am better now S. T. C. (c), S. H. 225 far] fair MS. W. 

224 r!lHISTAHKL 

And on her elliow did rocline 
To look at the hidy Geraldine. 

Beneath the lamj> the lady l)o\ved, 245 

And slowly rolled her eyes around ; 

Then drawing in her breath aloud. 

Like one that shuddered, she unbound 

The cincture from beneath her breast : 

Her silken robe, and inner vest, 250 

Dropt to her feet, and full in view, 

Behold ! her bosom and half her side 

A sight to dream of, not to tell ! 

shield her ! shield sweet Christabel ! 

Yet Geraldine nor speaks nor stirs ; 355 

Ah ! what a stricken look was hers ! 

Deep from within she seems half-way 

To lift some weight with sick assay, 

And eyes the maid and seeks delay ; 

Then suddenly, as one defied, 260 

Collects herself in scorn and pride, 

And lay down by the Maiden's side ! — 

And in her arms the maid she took, 

Ah wel-a-day ! 
And with low voice and doleful look 365 

These words did say : 
' In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell, 

Beticeen 252-3 Are lean and old and foul of hue. MS. W., S. T. C. (c), 
S. H. 254 And she is to sleep with Christabel. MS. W. : And 

she is to sleep by Christabel. S. T. C. (c), S. H., First Edition : And 
must she sleep by Christabel. H. 1816 [not in S. T. C.'s handwriting] : 
And she is alone with Christabel. H. 1816 erased [not in S. T. C.'s hand- 
writing] : And must she sleep with Christabel. H. 1816 erased [not in 
S. T. C.'s handwriting]. 255-61 om. MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H., First 

Edition : included in H. 1816. [Not in S. T. C.'s handwriting.] First published 
in 1828. 

Between 254 and 263 

She took two paces and a stride. 
And lay down by the maiden's side, 

MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H., First Edition. 
She gaz'd upon the maid, she .ijgh'd 
She took tv r o paces and a stride. 

And lay down by the Maidon'o Did». H. 1816 erased. 
265 low] sad MS. W., S.T. C. (c), S. H. 267 this] my MS. W., 

S. T. C. (c), S. H. 


Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel I 

Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow. 

This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow; 270 

But vainly thou warrest, 
For this is alone in 

Thy power to declare, 
That in the dim forest 

Thou heard'st a low moaning, 275 

And found'st a bright lady, surpassingly fair ; 
And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity. 
To shield her and shelter her from the damp air.' 

The Conclusion to Part I 

It was a lovely sight to see 

The lady Christabel, when she 280 

Was praying at the old oak tree. 

Amid the jagged shadows 

Of mossy leafless boughs. 

Kneeling in the moonlight, 

To make her gentle vows ; 385 

Her slender palms together prest. 
Heaving sometimes on her breast ; 
Her face resigned to bliss or bale — 
Her face, oh call it fair not pale, 

And both blue eyes more bright than clear, 290 

Each about to have a tear. 

With open eyes (ah woe is me !) 

Asleep, and dreaming fearfully. 

Fearfully dreaming, yet, I wis. 

Dreaming that alone, which is — 295 

O sorrow and shame ! Can this be she. 

The lady, who knelt at the old oak tree? 

270 The mark of my shame, the seal of my sorrow. MS. W., S. T. C. (c), 
S.H. 277 And didst bring her home with thee, with love and with 

charity. MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H. 278 To shield her, and shelter her, 

and shelter far from the damp air. MS. W. 

The Conclusion to Part I] The Conclusion of Book the First MS. W. : 
The Conclusion to Book the First S. T. C. (c), S. H. 

294 Here in MS. W. the handwriting changes. * Dreaming ' was written by 
S. T. C, ' yet' by Mary Hutchinson. 295 is] is H. 1S16. 297 who] 

that MS. W., S. T. C. (c), ,S. H., H. 1816. 

226 CHlUS'l'AHEL 

And lo I tlio worker of these liarms, 

That holds tlie maiden in her arms, 

Seems to slumber still and mild, 300 

As a mother with hor child. 

A star hath set, a .star hath risen, 

O Gerald ine ! since arms of thine 

Have been the lovely lady's prison. 

Geraldine ! one hour was thine — 305 

Thou'st had thy will! By tairn and rill. 

The night-birds all that hour were still. 

But now they are jubilant anew, 

From cliff and tower, tu— whoo! tu — wlioo I 

Tu— whoo! tu — whoo! from wood and fell! 310 

And see ! the lady Chri.stabel 

Gathers herself from out her trance ; 

Her limbs relax, her countenance 

Grows sad and soft ; the smooth thin lids 

Close o'er her eyes; and tears she sheds— 315 

Large tears that leave the lashes bright! 

And oft the while she seems to smile 

As infants at a sudden light ! 

Yea. she doth smile, and she doth weep, 
Like a youthful hermitess, 320 

Beauteous in a wilderness, 
Who, praying always, prays in sleep. 
And, if she move unquietly, 
Perchance, 'tis but the blood so free 
Comes back and tingles in her feet. 325 

No doubt, she hath a vision sweet. 
What if her guardian spirit 'twere, 
What if she knew her mother near? 
But this she knows, in joys and woes, 
That saints will aid if men will call: 330 

For the blue sky bends over all ! 

306 Tjiirn or Tarn (derived by Lye from the Icelandic Tiorn, stagnum, 
palus is rendered in our dictionaries as synonymous with Mere or Lake ; 
but it is properly a large Pool or Reservoir in the Mountains, commonly 
the Feeder of some Mere in the valleys. Tarn Watling and Blellum 
Tarn, though on lower ground than other Tarns, are yet not exceptions, 
for both are on elevations, and Blellum Tarn feeds the Wynander Mere. 
Note to S. T. C. [c). 324 A query is attached to this line H. 1816. 


Part II 
Each matin bell, the Baron saith, 
Knells us back to a world of death. 
These words Sir Leoline tirst said, 
When he rose and found his lady dead : 335 

These words Sir Leoline will say 
Many a morn to his dying day ! 

And hence the custom and law began 

That still at dawn the sacristan, 

Who duly pulls the heavy bell, 340 

Five and forty beads must tell 

Between each stroke— a warning knell. 

Which not a soul can choose but hear 

From Bratha Head to Wyndermere. 

Saith Bracy the bard, So let it knell ! 345 

And let the drowsy sacristan 

Still count as slowly as he can ! 

There is no lack of such, I ween. 

As well fill up the space between. 

In Langdale Pike and Witch's Lair, 350 

And Dungeon-ghyll so foully rent, 

With ropes of rock and bells of air 

Three sinful sextons' ghosts are pent. 

Who all give back, one after t'other, 

The death-note to their living brother ; 355 

And oft too, by the knell offended. 

Just as their one ! two ! three ! is ended. 

The devil mocks the doleful tale 

With a merry peal from Borodale. 

The air is still ! through mist and cloud 360 

That merry peal comes ringing loud ; 

And Geraldine shakes off her dread. 

And rises lightly from the bed ; 

Puts on her silken vestments white, 

And tricks her hair in lovely plight, 365 

Part II] Book the Second MS. W. : Christabel Book the Second S. T. C. 
vc), S. H. 

344 Wyndernifie] Wyn'dermeie MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H., First Edition. 
353 sinful] simple MS. W. 354 A query is attached to this line H. 1816. 

356 the] their MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H. 359 Borodale] Borrowdale 

MS. W., S. H., First Edition, 1S28, 1820 : Borrodale S. T. C. (c\ 360 The 

air is still through many a cloud MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H. 363 the] 

her MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H. 364 silken] simple MS. W. 



And nothing doiiMin^' of her 9]>oll 
Awakens the lady ('liristabol. 
•Sleep you, sweet lady Christabel ? 
I trust tliat you have rested well.' 

And Christabel awoke and spied 370 

The same who lay down Ijy her side — 

rather say, the same whom she 

Raised up beneath the old oak tree ! 

Nay, fairer yet! and yet more fair! 

For she belike hath drunken deep 37.5 

Of all the blessedness of sleep ! 

And while she spake, her looks, her air 

Such gentle thankfulness declare, 

Tliat (so it seemed) her girded vests 

Grew tight beneath her heaving breasts. 380 

' Sure I have sinn'd ! ' said Christabel, 

' Now heaven be praised if all be well ! ' 

And in low faltering tones, yet sweet, 

Did she the lofty lady greet 

With such perplexity of mind 385 

As dreams too lively leave behind. 

So quickly she rose, and quickly arrayed 

Her maiden limbs, and having prayed 

That He, who on the cross did groan, 

Might wash away her sins unknown, 390 

She forthwith led fair Geraldine 

To meet her sire, Sir Leoline. 

The lovely maid and the lady tall 

Are pacing both into the hall. 

And pacing on through page and groom, 395 

Enter the Baron's presence-room. 

The Baron rose, and while he prest 

His gentle daughter to his breast, 

With cheerful wonder in his eyes 

The lady Geraldine espies, 4°^ 

And gave such welcome to the same, 

As might beseem so bright a dame ! 

But when he heard the lady's tale, 

And when she told her father's name, 

Why waxed Sir Leoline so pale, 4<^S 

Murmuring o'er the name again, 

Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine? 


Alas ! they had been friends in youth ; 

But whispering tongues can poison truth ; 

And constancy lives in realms above ; 410 

And life is thorny ; and youth is vain ; 

And to be wroth with one we love 

Doth work like madness in the brain. 

And thus it chanced, as I divine, 

With Roland and Sir Leoline. 415 

Each spake words of high disdain 

And insult to his hearths best brother: 

They parted — ne'er to meet again ! 

But never either found another 

To free the hollow heart from paining — 420 

They stood aloof, the scars remaining. 

Like cliffs which had been rent asunder ; 

A dreary sea now flows between ; — 

But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, 

Shall wholly do away, I ween, 425 

The marks of that which once hath been. 

Sir Leoline, a moment's space, 

Stood gazing on the damsel's face : 

And the youthful Lord of Tryermaine 

Came back upon his heart again. 430 

then the Baron forgot his age, 

His noble heart swelled high with rage ; 

He swore by the wounds in Jesu's side 

He would proclaim it far and wide; 

With trump and solemn heraldry, 435 

That they, who thus had wronged the dame, 

Were base as spotted infamy ! 

'And if they dare deny the same, 

My herald shall appoint a week. 

And let the recreant traitors seek 440 

My tourney court — that there and then 

1 may dislodge their reptile souls 
From the bodies and forms of men ! ' 
He spake : his eye in lightning rolls ! 

For the lady was ruthlessly seized ; and he kenned 445 
In the beautiful lady the child of his friend ! 

414 thus] so MS. Letter to Poole, Feb. 1813. 418 They] And MS. W., 

S. T. C. (c), S. H. 419 But] And MS. W. 

424-5 But neither frost nor heat nor thunder 

Can wholly, &c., MS. Letter to Poole, Feb. 1813. 
441 tourney] Tournay MS. W., S. T. C. (c), First Edition. 


And now the teaiN were on his face. 

And fondlj' in his arms he took 

Fair Geraldine. who met the embrace, 

rrolonjj:in^^ it with joyous look. 450 

Which when she viewed, a vision fell 

Upon the soul of Christabel, 

The vision of fear, the touch and pain ! 

She shrunk and shuddered, and saw again— 

(Ah, woe is me! Was it for thee, 455 

Thou gentle maid ! such sights to see ?) 

Again she saw that bosom old. 

Again she felt that bosom cold, 

And drew in her In-eath with a hissing sound : 

Whereat the Knight turned wildly round, ^Oo 

And nothing saw, but his own sweet maid 

W^ith eyes upraised, as one that prayed. 

The touch, the sight, had passed away, 

And in its stead that vision blest, 

W^hich comforted her after-rest 465 

While in the lady's arms she lay, 

Had put a rapture in her breast, 

And on her lips and o'er her eyes 

Spread smiles like light I 

W'itli new surprise, 
' W^hat ails then my beloved child ? ' 47° 

The Baron said — His daughter mild 
Made answer, * All will yet be well I ' 
I ween, she had no power to tell 
Aught else: so mighty was the spell. 

Yet he, who saw this Geraldine, 475 

Had deemed her sure a thing divine : 

Such sorrow with such grace she blended, 

As if she feared she had offended 

Sweet Christabel, that gentle maid ! 

And with such lowly tones she prayed 480 

She might be sent without delay 

Home to her father's mansion. 

' Nay ! 

453 The vision foul of fear and pain MS. W., S. T. C. («), S.T.C. (c), S'. H. : 
Tlie vision of fear, the touch of pain S. T. C. (h). 463 The pang, the 

sight was passed away S. T. r. (a) : The pang, the sight, had passed away 
MS. W.,S.T.C.{c), S.H. 


Nay, by my soul ! ' said Leoline. 

'Ho! Bracy the bard, the charge be thine! 

Go thou, with music sweet and loud, 485 

And take two steeds with trappings proud, 

And take the youth whom thou lov'st best 

To bear thy harp, and learn thy song. 

And clothe you both in solemn vest. 

And over the mountains haste along, 490 

Lest wandering folk, that are abroad, 

Detain you on the valley road. 

'And when he has crossed the Irthing flood. 

My merry bard ! he hastes, he hastes 

Up Knorren Moor, through Halegarth Wood, 495 

And reaches soon that castle good 

Which stands and threatens Scotland's wastes. 

' Bard Bracy ! bard Bracy ! your horses are fleet, 

Ye must ride up the hall, your music so sweet, 

More loud than your horses' echoing feet ! 500 

And loud and loud to Lord Eoland call. 

Thy daughter is safe in Langdale hall ! 

Thy beautiful daughter is safe and free — 

Sir Leoline greets thee thus through me ! 

He bids thee come without delay 505 

With all thy numerous array 

And take thy lovely daughter home: 

And he will meet thee on the way 

With all his numerous array 

White with their panting palfreys' foam : 510 

And, by mine honour ! I will say. 

That I repent me of the day 

When I spake words of fierce disdain 

To Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine ! — 

— For since that evil hour hath flown, 515 

Many a summer's sun hath shone ; 

Yet ne'er found I a friend again 

Like Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine.' 

The lady fell, and clasped his knees, 

Her face upraised, her eyes o'erflowing ; 520 

And Bracy replied, with faltering voice, 

His gracious Hail on all bestowing ! — 

490 om. MS. W. 503 beautiful] beauteous MS. W. 507 take] 

fetch MS. W., S. T. C. (c), 6'. H. 516 Many a summer's suns have shone 

MS. W., S. T. C. {c), S. H. 


' Tliy words, thou sin- of Clirislahel, 

Are sweeter tlian my harp can tell ; 

Yet might I gain a boon of th« e, 525 

This day my journey should not be, 

So strange a dream hath come to me, 

That I had vowed with music loud 

To clear yon wood from thing unblest, 

Warned by a vision in my rest! 530 

For in my sleep I saw that dove, 

That gentle bird, whom thou dost love, 

And cairst by thy own daughter's name — 

Sir Leoline I I saw the same 

Fluttering, and uttering fearful moan, 535 

Among the green herbs in the forest alone. 

Which when I saw and when I heard, 

I wonder' d what might ail the bird ; 

For nothing near it could I see. 

Save the grass and green herbs underneath the old tree. 

'And in my dream methought I went 541 

To search out what might there be found ; 

And what the sweet bird's trouble meant. 

That thus lay fluttering on the ground. 

I went and peered, and could descry 545 

No cause for her distressful cry ; 

But yet for her dear lady's sake 

I stooped, methought, the dove to take, 

When lo ! I saw a bright green snake 

Coiled around its wrings and neck. 550 

Green as the herbs on which it couched, 

Close by the dove's its head it crouched ; 

And with the dove it heaves and stirs, 

Swelling its neck as she swelled hers ! 

I woke ; it was the midnight hour, 555 

The clock was echoing in the tower ; 

But though my slumber was gone by, 

This dream it w^ould not pass away — 

It seems to live upon my eye ! 

And thence I vowed this self-same day 560 

With music strong and saintly song 

To w^ander through the forest bare, 

Lest aught unholy loiter there.' 

559 seems] seem'd MS. W., S. T. C. (c). 560 vowed] swore MS. W. 

563 loiter] wander MS. W. 


Thus Bracy said : the Baron, the while, 

Half-listening heard him with a smile ; 565 

Then turned to Lady Geraldine, 

His eyes made up of wonder and love ; 

And said in courtly accents fine, 

'Sweet maid. Lord Roland's beauteous dove, 

With arms more strong than harp or song, 570 

Thy sire and I will crush the snake I ' 

He kissed her forehead as he spake, 

And Geraldine in maiden wise 

Casting down her large bright eyes. 

With blushing cheek and courtesy fine 575 

She turned her from Sir Leoline ; 

Softly gathering up her train. 

That o'er her right arm fell again ; 

And folded her arms across her chest, 

And couched her head upon her breast, 580 

And looked askance at Christabel 

Jesu, Maria, shield her well ! 

A snake's small eye blinks dull and shy ; 

And the lady's eyes they shrunk in her head. 

Each shrunk up to a serpent's eye, 585 

And with somewhat of malice, and more of dread, 

At Christabel she looked askance ! — 

One moment — and the sight was fled ! 

But Christabel in dizzy trance 

Stumbling on the unsteady ground 590 

Shuddered aloud, with a hissing sound ; 

And Geraldine again turned round, 

And like a thing, that sought relief, 

Full of wonder and full of grief, 

She rolled her large bright eyes divine 595 

Wildly on Sir Leoline. 

The maid, alas ! her thoughts are gone. 

She nothing sees — no sight but one ! 

The maid, devoid of guile and sin, 

I know not how, in fearful wise, 600 

So deeply had she drunken in 

That look, those shrunken serpent eyes, 

582 Jesu, Maria] Jesu Maria MS. W. 591 Shuddered aloud with 

liissing sound MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S. H. 596 on] o'er MS. W. 


That all her t'oatures were resigned 

To this sole imago in her mind : 

And passively did imitate 605 

That look of dull and treacherous hate ! 

And thus she stood, in dizzy trance, 

Still picturing that look askance 

With forced unconscious sympathy 

Full before her father's view 610 

As far as such a look could be 
In eyes so innocent and blue ! 

And when the trance was o'er, tlie maid 

Paused awhile, and inly prayed : 

Then falling at the Baron's feet, 615 

'By my mother's soul do I entreat 

That thou this woman send away ! * 

She said : and more she could not say : 

For what she knew she could not tell, 

O'er-mastered by the mighty spell. 620 

Why is thy cheek so wan and wild, 

Sir Leoline? Thy only child 

Lies at thy feet, thy joy, thy imde. 

So fair, so innocent, so mild ; 

The same, for whom thy lady died ! 625 

by the i3angs of her dear mother 

Think thou no evil of thy child ! 

For her, and thee, and for no other. 

She prayed the moment ere she died : 

Prayed that the babe for whom she died, 630 

Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride ! 

That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled. 
Sir Leoline ! 

And wouldst thou wrong thy only child, 

Her child and thine ? 635 

Within the Baron's heart and brain 

If thoughts, like these, had any share, 

They only swelled his rage and pain. 

And did but work confusion there. 

His heart was cleft with pain and rage, 640 

His cheeks they quivered, his eyes were wild, 

613 And] But MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S.H., First Edition. 615 her Father's 
Feet MS. W., S. T. C. (c), S.H., First Edition, 1828. 620 tlie] that MS. W. 

639 but] not MS, W. 


Dishonoured thus in his old age ; 
Dishonoured by his only child, 
And all his hospitality 

To the wronged daughter of his friend 645 

By more than woman's jealousy 
Brought thus to a disgraceful end — 
He rolled his eye with stern regard 
Upon the gentle minstrel bard, 

And said in tones abrupt, austere — 650 

' Why, Bracy ! dost thou loiter here ? 
I bade thee hence ! ' The bard obeyed ; 
And turning from his own sweet maid, 
The aged knight. Sir Leoline, 

Led forth the lady Geraldine ! 655 


The Conclusion to Part II 

A little child, a limber elf. 

Singing, dancing to itseff, 

A fairy thing with red round cheeks. 

That always finds, and never seeks, 

Makes such a vision to the sight 660 

As fills a father's eyes with light ; 

And pleasures flow in so thick and fast 

Upon his heart, that he at last 

Must needs express his love's excess 

With words of unmeant bitterness. 665 

Perhaps 'tis pretty to force together 

Thoughts so all unlike each other ; 

To mutter and mock a broken charm, 

To dally with wrong that does no harm. 

Perhaps 'tis tender too and pretty 670 

At each wild word to feel within 

645 wronged] insulted MS. W., S. T. C. (c), >S. H., First Edition, 1828, 1829. 

The Conclusion to Part II] Not in any of the MSS. or in S. H. For 
the first manuscript version see Letter to Soufheij, May G, 1801. {Letters of 
S. T. C, 1895, i. 355.) 

659 * finds' and 'seeks' are italicized in the letters. 

660-1 Doth make a vision to the sight 

Which fills a father's eyes with light. Letter, 1801. 

664 In H. 1816 there is a direction (not in S. T. C.'s handwriting) to 
print line 664 as tAvo lines. 665 In words of wrong and bitterness. 

Letter, 1801. 

•J3r> CHKlSTAr.KT. 

A swei't I'pcoil of lovo and pity. 
And what, if in a world of .•=;in 
(O sorrow and slmme should this l^e true !) 
Such giddiness of heart and brain 675 

Conies seldom save from rage and pain, 
So talks as it 's most used to do. 



While my young cheek retains its healthful hues, 

And I have man}'' friends who hold me dear, 

L M methinks, I would not often hear 

Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose 

All memory of the wrongs and sore" distress 5 

For which my miserable brethren weep ! 

But should uncomforted misfortunes steep 
My daily bread in tears and bitterness ; 
And if at Death's dread moment I should lie 

With no beloved face at my bed-side, 10 

To fix the last glance of my closing eye, 

Methinks such strains, breathed bj^ my angel-guide. 
Would make me pass the cup of anguish by, 

Mix with the blest, nor know that I had died ! 

' First published in the Annual Anthology for 1800 : included in Sihylline 
Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. A MS. is extant dated Sept. U, 1797. 

Lines to W.L.— Title] To Mr. William Linley MS. 1797: Sonnet XII, To 
W. L. 2 1 Eg(^^ ^yjjiig j^e j^m^g ^^^ ^,j_ ^,j^;^_ . -p^ Y7 L. Esq. &c. S'. L. 

1828, 1829: Lines to W. Linley, Esq. 1893. 

3 L 2 i-j Linley ! MS. 1893. 10 at] by An. Anth. 12 Methinks] 

God ! An. Anth. 




The Scene a desolated Tract in La Vendee. Famine is discovered 
lying on the ground ; to her enter Fire and Slaughter. 

Fam. Sisters ! sisters ! who sent you here ? 

Slaii. [to Fire'], I will whisper it in her ear. 

Fire. No ! no ! no ! 
Spirits hear what spirits tell : 
'Twill make a holiday in Hell. 5 

No ! no ! no ! 
Myself, I named him once below, 
And all the souls, that damned be, 
Leaped up at once in anarchy, 

Clapped their hands and danced for glee. 10 

They no longer heeded me ; 
But laughed to hear Hell's burning rafters 
Unwillingly re-echo laughters ! 

No ! no ! no ! 
Spirits hear what spirits tell : 15 

Twill make a holiday in Hell I 

Fam. Whisper it, sister ! so and so ! 
In a dark hint, soft and slow. 

Slait. Letters four do form his name — 
And who sent you? 

Both. The same ! the same ! 20 

' First published in the Morning Post, January 8, 1798: included in 
Annual Ayithology, 1800, and (with an Apologetic Preface, vide Appendices) 
in Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The poem was probably written 
in 1796. See Watchman, passiyn. 

Fire, Famine, &c. — Title] Scene: A depopulated Tract in La Vendee. 
Famine is discovered stretched on the ground ; to her enter Slaughter 
and Fire M. P., Jan. 8, 179^. 

2 Slaughter. I will name hi in in your ear. M. P. 5 a] an all 

editions to 1834. 11 me] me M. P. 

16 a] an all editions to 1884. 

17-18 Famine. Then sound it not, yet let me know; 
Darkly hint it — soft and low ! M. P. 
In a dark hint, soft and low. An. Anth. 

19 Four letters form his name. M, P. 20 Botli] Famine iHP. 


Slau. Hp oanu" by stealth, and unlockod my den. 
And I have drunk the })lood since then 
Of thrice three hundred thousand men. 

Both. Who bade you do 't ? 

Shiu. The sam<' ! the same ! 

Letters four do form his name. 35 

He let me loose, and cried Halloo ! 
To him alone the praise is due. 

Fam. Thanks, sister, thanks ! the men have bled, 
Their wives and their children faint for bread. 
I stood in a swampy field of battle ; 30 

With bones and skulls I made a rattle, 
To frighten the wolf and carrion-crow 
And the homeless dog — but they would not go. 
So off I flew: for how could I bear 
To see them gorge their dainty fare ? 35 

I heard a groan and a peevish squall, 
And through the chink of a cottage-wall — 
Can you guess what I saw there? 

Both. Whisper it, sister I in our ear. 

Fam. A baby beat its dying mother : 40 

I had starved the one and was starving the other ! 

Both. Who bade you do 't ? 

Fam. The same ! the same ! 

Letters four do form his name. 
He let me loose, and cried, Halloo I 
To him alone the praise is due. 45 

Fire. Sisters ! I from Ireland came ! 
Hedge and corn-fields all on flame, 
I triumph'd o'er the setting sun ! 
And all the while the work was done, 
On as I strode with my huge strides. 50 

I flung back my head and I held my sides, 
It was so rare a piece of fun 
To see the sweltered cattle run 

22-3 And I have bpill'd the blood since then 

Of thrice ten hundred thousand men. M. P. 

22 drunk] drank An. Anth., S. L. 1828, 1829. 24 Both] Firk and Famine 
M. P. 25 Four letters form his name. M. P. 29 Their wives 

and children M. P. 32 and the carrion crow 31. P., An. Anth. 39 

Both] Slaughter and Fire M.P. 42 Both] Slaughter and Fire M.P. 

43 Four letters form his name. M. P. 47 Hedge] Huts M. P. 48 

om. An. Anth. 49 Halloo ! Halloo I the work was done An. Anth. 

50 As on I strode with monstrous strides M. P. : And on as I strode with 
my great strides An. Anth. 51 and held M.P., An. Anth. 


With uncouth gallop through the night. 

Scared by the red and noisy light ! 55 

By the light of his own blazing cot 

Was many a naked Rebel shot : 

The house-stream met the flame and hissed, 

While crash ! fell in the roof, I wist, 

On some of those old bed-rid nurses, 60 

That deal in discontent and curses. 

Both. Who bade you do 't ? 

Fire. The same ! the same ! 

Letters four do form his name. 
He let me loose, and cried Halloo ! 
To him alone the praise is due. 65 

All. He let us loose, and cried Halloo ! 
How shall we yield him honour due? 

Fam. Wisdom comes with lack of food. 
I'll gnaw, I'll gnaw the multitude, 
Till the cup of rage o'erbrim : 70 

They shall seize him and his brood — 

Slau. They shall tear him limb from limb ! 

Fire. thankless beldames and untrue ! 
And is this all that you can do 

For him, who did so much for you? 75 

Ninety months he, by my troth ! 
Hath richly catered for you both ; 

54 through] all M. F. 58 flame] fire M.P. : flames An. Anfh. 

59 While crash the roof fell in I wish M. P. 62 Both] Slaughter and 

Famine M.P. 63 Four letters form his name. M.P. 65 How shall 

I give him honour due? M.P. 67 we] I M.P. 71 and] of M. P. 

75 foil. For him that did so much for you. 

[To Slaughter. 
For you he turn'd the dust to mud 
With his fellow creatures' blood ! 

[To Famine. 
And liunger scorch'd as many more, 
To make tjour cup of joy run o'er. 

[To Both. 
Full ninety moons, he by my troth ! 
Hath richly cater'd for you both ! 
And in an hour would you repay 
An eight years' debt? Away! away! 
I alone am faithful ! I 
Cling to him everlastingly. 

Laberius. M. p. 


And in an liour would you repay 
An eight years' work? — Away! away! 
I alone am faithful ! I 80 

Cling to him everlastingly. 


The Frost performs its secret ministry, 

Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry 

Camo loud — and hark, again ! loud as before. 

The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, 

Have left me to that solitude, which suits 5 

Abstruser musings: save that at my side 

My cradled infant slumbers peacefully. 

'Tis calm indeed ! so calm, that it disturbs 

And vexes meditation with its strange 

And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood, 10 

This populous village ! Sea, and hill, and wood. 

With all the numberless goings-on of life, 

Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flame 

Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not ; 

Only that film,^ which fluttered on the grate, 15 

Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing. 

Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature 

Gives it dim sympathies with me who live. 

Making it a companionable form, 

Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit 20 

^ First published in a quarto pamphlet 'printed by Johnson in 
S. Paul's Churchyard, 1798': included in Poetical Register, 1808-9 (1812) : 
in Fearfi in Solitude, &c., printed by Law and Gilbert, (?) 1812: in Sibylline 
Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1884. 

' Only that film. In all parts of the kingdom these films are called 
strangers and supposed to portend the arrival of some absent friend. 4^^, 
P. R. 

Below 8i 1798] 179G S. L. 1828, 1820, and 1S34. 

Between 19-25 

With which I can hold commune. Idle thouglit 

But still the living spirit in our frame. 

That loves not to behold a lifeless thing, 

Transfuses into all its own delights, 

Its own volition, sometimes with deep faith 

And sometimes with fantastic playfulness. 


By its own moods interprets, every where 
Echo or mirror seeking of itself, 
And makes a toy of Thought. 

But O ! how oft, 
How oft, at school, with most believing mind, 
Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars, 25 

To watch that fluttering stranger I and as oft 
With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt 
Of my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower. 
Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rang 
From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day, 30 

So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me 
With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear 
Most like articulate sounds of things to come ! 
So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt. 
Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams I 35 
And so I brooded all the following morn. 
Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eye 
Fixed with mock study on my swimming book : 
Save if the door half opened, and I snatched 
A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up, 40 

Ah me ! amus'd by no such curious toys 

Of the self-watching subtilizing mind, 

How often in my early school -boy days 

With most believing superstitious wish. 4". 

With which I can hold commune : haply hence. 

That still the living spirit in our frame, 

Which loves not to behold a lifeless thing, 

Transfuses into all things its oAvn Will, 

And its own pleasures ; sometimes with deep faith. 

And sometimes with a wilful playfulness 

That stealing pardon from our common sense 

Smiles, as self-scornful, to disarm the scorn 

For these wild reliques of our childish Thought, 

That flit about, oft go, and oft return 

Not uninvited. 

Ah there was a time, 

When oft amused by no such subtle toys 

Of the self-watching mind, a child at school. 

With most believing superstitious wish. P. R. 
Betiveen 20-4 

To which the living spirit in our frame, 
That loves not to behold a lifeless thing, 
Transfuses its own pleasures, its own will. S.L. 1828. 
26 To watch the stranger there ! and oft belike 4^, P. R. 27 had] have 
P. R. 32 wild] sweet S. L. (for sweet read wild. Errata, S. L., p. [xii]). 


For still I hoped to sec the strayiffcrs face, 

Townsiiiaii, or aunt, or sister more l)eloved, 

My play-mate Avheu we l)()th were clothed alike I 

Dear Ba))e, that sleei)est cradled by my side, 
Whose gentle l>roatliings, heard in this deep calm, 45 

Fill u]) the interspersed vacancies 
And momentary pauses of the thought ! 
My babe so beautiful ! it thrills my heart 
With tender gladness, thus to look at thee, 
And think that thou shalt learn far other lore, 50 

And in far other scenes ! For I was reared 
In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim, 
And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars. 
But thoK, my babe ! shalt wander like a breeze 
By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags 55 

Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds, 
Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores 
And mountain crags : so shalt thou see and hear 
The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible 
Of that eternal language, which thy God 60 

Utters, who from eternity doth teach 
Himself in all, and all things in himself. 
Great universal Teacher ! he shall mould 
Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask. 

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, 65 

Whether the summer clothe the general earth 
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing 
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch 
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch 
Smokes in the sun-thaw ; whether the eave-drops fall 70 
Heard only in the trances of the blast, 
Or if the secret ministry of frost 
Shall hang them up in silent icicles. 
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon. 

February, 1798.' 
' The date is omitted in 1S29 and in 1S34. 

45 deep] dead 4°, P. R., S. L. (for dead read deep. Errata, S. L., p. [xii]"). 
46 Fill] FilPd S.L. (for FiU'd read Fill Errata, S. L., p. [xii]). 48 

thrills] fills 4", PR., S.L. (for fills read thrills. Errata, S.L., p. [xii]). 
67 redbreast] redbreasts 4°, P. R. 69 the nigh] all the 4°. 71 

trances] traces S. L. (for traces read trances. Errata, S. L., p. [xii]). 

72-end Or whether the secret ministery of cold 

Shall hang them up in silent icicles, 



Ye Clouds ! that far above me float and pause, 
Whose pathless march no mortal may controul ! 
Ye Ocean-Waves ! that, wheresoe'er ye roll, 

Yield homage only to eternal laws ! 

^ First published in the Morning Post. April 16, 1798 : included in quarto 
pamphlet published by J. Johnson, 1798 : reprinted in Morning Post, 
Oct. 14,1802: included in Poetical Begister for 1808-9(1812); in Fears in 
Solitude, d-c, printed by Law and Gilbert, (?) 1812 ; in Sibylline Leaves, 
1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. Lines 85, 98 are quoted from 'France, a 
Palinodia\ in Biog. Lit., 1817, i. 195. To the first Morning Post version 
(1798) an editorial note was prefixed : — 

Orioinal Poetry. 

The following excellent Ode will be in unison with the feelings of 
every friend to Liberty and foe to Oppression ; of all who, admiring the 
French Revolution, detest and deplore the conduct of France towards 
Switzerland. It is very satisfactory to find so zealous and steady an 
advocate for Freedom as Mr. Coleridge concur with us in condemning 
the conduct of France towards the Swiss Cantons. Indeed his concurrence 
is not singular ; we know of no Friend to Liberty who is not of his opinion. 
What we most admire is the avowal of his sentiments, and public censure 
of the unprincipled and atrocious conduct of France. The Poem itself is 
written with great energy. The second, third, and fourth stanzas contain 
some of the most vigorous lines we have ever read. The lines in the 
fourth stanza : — 

' To scatter rage and trait'rous guilt 
Where Peace her jealous home had built,' 
to the end of the stanza are particularly expressive and beautiful. 

To the second Morning Post version (1802) a note and Argument were 
prefixed : — 

The following Ode was first published in this paper (in the beginning 
of the year 1798) in a less perfect state. The present state of France and 

Quietly shining to the (^uiet moon, 
Like those, my balje ! which ere tomorrow's warmth 
Have capp'd their sharp keen points with pendulovis drops, 
Will catch thine eye, and with their novelty 
Suspend thy little soul ; then make thee shout. 
And stretch and flutter from thy mother's arms 
As thou would st fly for very eagerness. 4". 
France— Title] The Recantation : an Ode. By S. T. Coleridge. 179S. 
I and] or lSO-3. 2 Veering your pathless march without contruul 




Ye Wonds ! tliat listen to tlie Tii<^lit-l»iids ringing. 5 

Mi<l\vay the smooth and perilous slope reclined. 
Save when your own inii)erious l)ranches swinging, 

Have made a solemn music of thr wind ! 
Where, like a man beloved of God, 
Through glooms, which never woodman trod. 10 

How oft, pursuing fancies holy. 
My moonliglit way oer flowering weeds I woun<l, 

Inspired, l)eyond the guess of folly, 
By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound ! 
ye loud Waves I and ye Forests high! 15 

And O ye Clouds that far above me soared ! 
Thou rising Sun ! thou blue rejoicing Sky ! 

Yea, every thing that is and will be free ! 

Bear witness for me, wlieresoe'er ye be, 

With what deep worship I have still adored ao 

The spirit of divinest Liberty. 

Switzerland give it so peculiar an interest at the present time that we 
wished to re-puVjlish it and accordingly have procured from the Author a 
corrected copy. 


'First Stanza. An invocation to those objects in Nature the con- 
templation of which had inspired the Poet with a devotional love of 
Liberty, Stcond Stanza. The exultation of the Poet at the commencement 
of the French Revolution, and his unqualified abhorrence of the Alliance 
against the Rei)ublic. Third Stanza. The blasphemies and horrors during 
the domination of the Terrorists regarded by the Poet as a transient 
storm, and as the natural consequence of the former despotism and of 
the foul superstition of Popery. Reason, indeed, began to suggest many 
apprehensions ; yet still the Poet struggled to retain the hope that France 
would make conquests by no other means than by presenting to the 
observation of Europe a people more happy and better instructed than 
under otlier forms of Government. Fourth Stanza. Switzerland, and tlie 
Poet's recantation. Fifth Stanza. An address to Liberty, in which the 
Poet expresses his conviction that those feelings and that grand ideal of 
Freedom which the mind attains by its contemplation of its individual 
nature, and of the sublime surrounding objects (see Stanza the First) do 
not belong to men, as a society, nor can possibly be either gratified or 
realised, under any form of human government ; but belong to the 
individual man, so far as he is pure, and inflamed with the love and 
adoration of God in Nature.' 

5 night-birdsj night bird's 1798, 4", 1802 : night-birds' S. L., 1828, 1829. 
6 slope] steep 1798, 4°, 1802, P. Pi. 12 way] path 1802. 

FRA^X^E: AX ODE 245 


When France in wrath her giant-limbs upreared, 

And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea, 

Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free, 
.Bear witness for me, how I hoped and feared I 35 

With what a joy my lofty gratulation 

Unawed I sang, amid a slavish band : 
And when to whelm the disenchanted nation. 

Like fiends embattled by a wizard's w^and. 

The Monarchs marched in evil day, 30 

And Britain joined the dire array ; 

Though dear her shores and circling ocean. 
Though many friendships, many youthful loves 

Had swoln the patriot emotion 
And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves ; 35 
Yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat 

To all that braved the tyrant- quelling lance, 
And shame too long delayed and vain retreat ! 
For ne'er, Liberty I with partial aim 
I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame ; 40 

But blessed the paeans of delivered France, 
And hung my head and wept at Britain's name. 


'And what,' I said, 'though Blasphemy's loud scream 
With that sweet music of deliverance strove ! 
Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove 45 

A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream ! 
Ye storms, that round the dawning East assembled, 

The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light ! ' 

And w^hen, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled. 

The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright; 50 
When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory 
Concealed with clustering wreaths of glory ; 

23 smote air, earth, and sea] smote eartli, air, and sea 1798, 4^, P. B. : 
shook earth, iiir, and sea 1802. 24 foot] feet 1798. 26 lofty] 

eager 1802. 27 sang] sung 1798, 4^, P. R. 30 marched] mov'd 

1802. 34 the] that 1802. 35 tiung] spread 1802. 41 But] I 1802. 

44 that sweet music] those sweet Paeans 1802. 46 e'er wa.s] ever 1798, 

4'^, P. R. 51 deep-scarr'd] deep-scar'd 1798, 4", P. R., S. L. 


When, inyu])j)ortahly advancing, 

Hor arm mado mockery of tlie warrior's ramj) ; 

Wliile timid looks of fury glancing, 55 

Domestic treason, cnislied ]>eneath her fatal slamj). 
Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore ; 

Then I rei^roached my fears that would not flee ; 
'And soon,' I said, 'shall Wisdom teach her lore 
In the low huts of them that toil and groan I 60 

And, conquering by her happiness alone, 

Shall France compel the nations to be free, 
Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth tlieir own ' 


Forgive me, Freedom ! O forgive those dreams ! 

I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament, 65 

From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sent — 
I hear thy groans upon her blood-stained streams I 

Heroes, that for your peaceful country perished, 
And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows 

With bleeding wounds ; forgive me, that I cherished 70 
One thought that ever blessed your cruel foes ! 

To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt, 

Where Peace her jealous home had built ; 
A patriot-race to disinherit 
Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear ; 75 

And w^th inexpiable spirit 
To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer — 
France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind, 

And patriot only in pernicious toils ! 
Are these thy boasts, Champion of human kind ? 80 

To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway. 
Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey ; 
To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils 

From freemen torn ; to tempt and to betray ? 

53 insupportably] irresistibly 1S02. 54 ramp] tramp 16.28, 1829, 1834, 

1852. [Text of 1834 is liere corrected.] 58 reproached] rcbuk'd 1802. 

59 said] cried 180'?. 62 compel] persuade 180-?. 63 call the Earth] 

lo ! the earth's i802, 64 tliose] these 4^, i\ 7?, 66 caverns] cavern 

1834, 1852. [Text of 1834 is liere corrected.] 69 And ye that flying 

spot the [your 1802'] mountain-snows 1708 : And yc that fleeing spot the 
mountain-snows 4", P. K. 75 stormy] native 1802. 77 taint] stain 

1802. 79 patriot] patient 1798, 1802. 80 Was this thy boast 1802. 

81 Kings in the low lust] monarchs in the lust 1802. 


The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, 85 

Slaves by their own compulsion ! In mad game 
They burst their manacles and wear the name 

Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain ! 
O Liberty ! with profitless endeavour 
Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour ; 90 

But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever 
Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power. 
Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee, 
(Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee) 

Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions, 95 

And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves. 
Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions. 
The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves ! 
And there I felt thee ! — on that sea-cliff's verge, 

Whose pines, scarce travelled by the breeze above. 100 
Had made one murmur with the distant surge ! 
Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare. 
And shot my being through earth, sea, and air, 
Possessing all things witli intensest love, 

O Liberty ! my spirit felt thee there. 105 

February, 1798. 

85-9. The fifth stanza, which alluded to the African Slave Trade as 
conducted by this Country, and to the present Ministry and their sup- 
porters, has been omitted, and would have been omitted without remark 
if the commencing lines of the sixth stanza had not referred to it. 


Shall 1 with these my patriot zeal combine? 
No, Afric, no ! they stand before my ken 
Loath'd as th' Hyaenas, that in murky den 
Whine o'er their prey and mangle while they whine, 
Divinest Liberty ! with vain endeavour 1798. 
87 burst] break 1802. and] to B. L,, i. 104. name] name B. L. 

91 strain] pomp B. L. 92 in] on 1802. 95 Priestcraft's] priest- 

hood's 4", P. R. : superstition's B. L. 97 subtle] cherub B. L. 

98 To live amid the winds and move upon the waves 1798, 4°, P. R. 
To live among the winds and brood upon the waves 1802. 

99 there] there 1798 : then 4«, P. R. that] yon 1802. loo scarce] just 1802. 
102 Yes, as I stood and gazed my forehead bare 1802. 104 with] by 1802. 



Stranger ! whose eyes a look of pity shew, 

Say. will you listen to a tale of woe ? 

A tale in no unwonted horrors drest ; 

But sw^eet is pity to an ag6d breast. 

This voice did falter with old age before ; 5 

Sad recollections make it falter more. 

Beside the torrent and beneath a wood, 

High in these Alps my summer cottage stood ; 

One daughter still remain'd to cheer my way, 

The evening-star of life's declining day: 10 

Duly she hied to fill her milking-pail. 

Ere shout of herdsmen rang from cliff or vale ; 

When she returned, before the summer shiel, 

On the fresh grass she spread the dairy meal ; 

Just as the snowy peaks began to lose 15 

In glittering silver lights their rosy hues. 

Singing in woods or bounding o'er the law^n, 

No blither creature hail'd the early dawn ; 

And if I spoke of hearts by pain oppress'd. 

When every friend is gone to them that rest ; 20 

Or of old men that leave, when they expire. 

Daughters, that should have perish 'd with their sire — 

Leave them to toil all day through paths unknown, 

And house at night behind some sheltering stone; 

Impatient of the thought, with lively cheer i-. 

She broke half-closed the tasteless tale severe. 

She play'd with fancies of a gayer hue, 

Enamour'd of the scenes her wishes drew^ ; 

And oft she prattled with an eager tongue 

Of promised joys that would not loiter long, 30 

' First published in the Morning Post, March 8, 1798 : first collected 
P. and D. W., 1877-80 : not included in P. W., 1893. Coleridge affixed 
the signature Nicias Erythracus to these lines and to Lewti, which was 
published in the Morning Post five weeks later, April 13, 1798. For a 
biographical notice of Janus Nicius Erythraeus (Giovanni Vittorio d'Rossi, 
1577-1647) by the late Richard Garnett, sec Literature, October 22, 1898. 


Till with her tearless eyes so bright and fair, 

She seem'd to see them realis'd in air ! 

In fancy oft, within some sunny dell, 

Where never wolf should howl or tempest yell. 

She built a little home of joy and rest, 35 

And fill'd it with the friends whom she lov'd best : 

She named the inmates of her fancied cot, 

And gave to each his own peculiar lot ; 

Which with our little herd abroad should roam, 

And which should tend the dairy's toil at home, 40 

And now the hour approach'd which should restore 

Her lover from the wars, to part no more. 

Her whole frame fluttered with uneasy joy ; 

I loDg'd myself to clasp the valiant boy ; 

And though I strove to calm her eager mood, 45 

It was my own sole thought in solitude. 

I told it to the Saints amid my hymns — 

For ! you know not, on an old man's limbs 

How thrillingly the pleasant sun-beams play, 

That shine upon his daughter's wedding-day. 50 

I hoped, that those fierce tempests, soon to rave 

Unheard, unfelt, around rmj mountain grave. 

Not undelightfuUy would break her rest. 

While she lay pillow'd on her lover's breast ; 

Or join'd his pious prayer for pilgrims driven 55 

Out to the mercy of the winds of heaven. 

Yes I now the hour approach'd that should restore 

Her lover from the wars to part no more. 

Her thoughts were wild, her soul was in her eye. 

She wept and laugh 'd as if she knew not why ; 60 

And she had made a song about the wars. 

And sang it to the sun and to the stars ! 

But while she look'd and listen'd, stood and ran, 

And saw him plain in every distant man. 

By treachery stabbed, on Nansy's murderous day, 65 

A senseless corse th' expected husband lay. 

A wounded man, who met us in the wood. 

Heavily ask'd her where my cottage stood, 

And told us all: she cast her eyes around 

As if his words had been but empty sound. 70 

Then look'd to Heav'n, like one that would deny 

That such a thing could he beneath the sky. 

Again he ask'd her if she knew my name. 


And instantly an anguish wrench'd her frame. 

And left her mind imperfect. No deliglit 75 

Thenceforth she found in any cheerful sight, 

Not ev'n in those time-haunted wells and groves, 

Scenes of past joy, and birth-place of her loves. 

If to her spirit any sound was dear, 

'Twas the deej) moan that spoke the tempest near ; 80 

Or sighs which chasms of icy vales outbreathe, 

Sent from the dark, imprisoned floods beneath. 

She wander'd up the crag and down the slope. 

But not, as in her happy days of hope. 

To seek the churning-plant of sovereign jiower, 85 

That grew in clefts and bore a scarlet flower ! 

She roam'd, without a purpose, all alone, 

Thro! high grey vales unknowing and unknown. 

Kind-hearted stranger ! patiently you hear 
A tedious tale : I thank you for that tear. 90 

May never other tears o'ercloud your eye, 
Than those which gentle Pity can supply I 
Did you not mark a towering convent hang. 
Where the huge rocks with sounds of torrents rang? 
Ev'n yet, methinks, its spiry turrets swim 95 

Amid yon purple gloom ascending dim ! 
For thither oft would my poor child repair. 
To ease her soul by penitence and prayer. 
I knew that peace at good men's prayers returns 
Home to the contrite heart of him that mourns, 100 
And check'd her not ; and often there she found 
A timely pallet when the evening frown'd. 
And there I trusted that my child would light 
On shelter and on food, one dreadful night, 
When there was uproar in the element, 105 

And she was absent. To my rest I went : 
I thought her safe, yet often did I wake 
And felt my very heart within me ache. 
No daughter near me, at this very door. 
Next morn 1 listen'd to the dying roar. no 

Above, below, the prowling vulture wail'd, 
And down the cliffs the heavy vapour sail'd. 
Up by the wide-spread waves in fury torn, 
Homestalls and pines along the vale were borne. 
The Dalesmen in thick crowds appear'd below 115 


Clearing the road, o'erwhelm'd with hills of snow. 

At times to the proud gust's ascending swell, 

A pack of blood-hounds flung their doleful yell : 

For after nights of storm, that dismal train 

The pious convent sends, with hope humane, 1-20 

To find some out-stretch'd man — perchance to save. 

Or give, at least, that last good gift, a grave ! 

But now a gathering crowd did I survey. 

That slowly up the pasture bent their way; 

Nor could I doubt but that their care had found 125 

Some pilgrim in th' unchannel'd torrent drown'd. 

And down the lawn I hasten'd to implore 

That they would bring the body to my door ; 

But soon exclaim'd a boy, who ran before, 

'Thrown by the last night's waters from their bed, 130 

Your daughter has been found, and she is dead ! ' 

The old man paused — May he who, sternly just. 
Lays at his will his creatures in the dust ; 
Some ere the earliest buds of hope be blown, 
And some, when every bloom of joy is flown ; 135 

May he the parent to his child restore 
In that unchanging realm, where Love reigns evermore ! 
March 8, 1798. 

NiciAs Erythraeus. 

I Mis« P(>oi,k] 


Why need I say, Louisa dear I 
How <^lad I am to see you here, 

A lovely convalescent ; 
Risen from the bed of pain and fear, 

And feverish heat incessant. 5 

The sunny showers, the dappled sky, 
The little birds that warble high, 

Their vernal loves commencing. 
Will better welcome you than I 

With their sweet influencing. lo 

Believe me, while in bed you lay, 
Your danger taught us all to pray : 

You made us grow devouter I 
Each eye looked up and seemed to say, 

How can we do without her? 15 

Besides, ^vhat vexed us worse, we knew, 
They have no need of such as you 

In the place where you were going: 
This World has angels all too few, 

And Heaven is overflowing ! 20 

March 81, 1798. 

' First published in the Morning Post, Dec. 9, 1799, includt'd in the 
Annual Anthologij, 1800, in Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

To a Yowig Lady,kc. — Title] To a Young Lady, on Her First Appearance 
Alter A Dangerous Illness. Written in the Spring of 1799 [1799 must 
he a slip for 1798]. M.P., An. Anth. 

I Louisa] Ophelia M. P., An. Anth. 

6-7 The breezy air, the sun, tlie sky, 

The little birds that sing on liigli M. P., An. Anth. 

12 all] how M. P., An. Anth. 13 grow] all 3/. P., A)l Anth. 16 what] 
which M.P., An. Anth. 17 have] had if . P , An. Anth. 19 This] 

The M. P. Below 20 Laberius M. P., An. Anth. 




At midnight by the stream I roved, 

To forget the form I loved. 

Image of Lewti ! from my mind 

Depart ; for Lewti is not kind. 

The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam 5 

And the shadow of a star 
Heaved upon Tamaha's stream ; 

But the rock shone brighter far, 
Tlie rock half sheltered from my view 
By pendent boughs of tressy yew. — 10 

So shines my Lewti's forehead fail-. 
Gleaming through her sable hair. 
Image of Lewti ! from my mind 
Depart ; for Lewti is not kind. 

^ First published in the Morning Post i^uiider the signature Kicias 
Erythraeusjf April 13, 1798: included in the Annual Anthology, 1800; 
Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. For MS. versions vide 
Appendices. ' Leivti was to have been included in the Lyrical Ballads 
of 1798, but at the last moment the sheets containing it were cancelled 
and The I^ightingale substituted.' (Note to reprint of L. B. (1898), edited by 
T. Hutchinson.) A copy which belonged to Southey, with the new Table 
of Contents and The Nightingale bound up with the text as at first printed, 
is in the British Museum. Another copy is extant which contains 
the first Table of Contents only, and Lewti without the addition of The 
Nightingale. In the M. P. the following note accompanies the poem : — 
* It is not amongst the least pleasing of our recollections, that we 
have been the means of gratifying the public taste with some ex- 
quisite pieces of Original Poetry. For many of them we have been 
indebted to the author of the Circassian's Love Chant. Amidst images 
of war and woe, amidst scenes of carnage and horror of devastation and 
dismay, it may afford the mind a temporary relief to wander to the 
magic haunts of the Muses, to bowers and fountains which the 
despoiling powers of war have never visited, and where the lover pours 
forth his complaint, or receives the recompense of his constancy. The 
whole of the subsequent Love Chant is in a warm and impassioned strain. 
The fifth and last stanzas are, we think, the best.' 

Leuti, &c. — Title] Lewti ; or the Circassian's Love Chant 3f. P. 

Between lines 14-15 

I saw the white waves, o'er and o'er, 
Break against the distant shore. 

254 I.EWTI 

I saw a cloud of palest hue, 15 

Onward to the moon it passed ; 
Still ))rigliter and more bright it grew, 
AVith lloating colours not a few, 

Till it reached the moon at last: 
Then the cloud was wholly bright, ao 

With a rich and amber light ! 
And so with many a hope I seek. 

And with such joy I find my Lewti ; 
And even so my pale wan cheek 

Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty ! 25 

Nay, treacherous image ! leave my mind, 
If Lewti never will be kind. 

The little cloud — it floats away, 

Away it goes ; aw^ay so soon ! 
Alas ! it has no power to stay : 30 

Its hues are dim, its hues are grey — 

Away it passes from the moon ! 
How mournfully it seems to fly, 

Ever fading more and more, 
To joyless regions of the sky — 35 

And now 'tis whiter than before ! 
As white as my poor cheek will be, 

When, Lewti ! on my couch I lie, 
A dying man for love of thee. 

Nay, treacherous image ! leave my mind — 40 

And yet, thou didst not look unkind. 

I saw a vapour in the sky, 
Thin, and white, and very high ; 

All at once upon the sight. 
All at once they broke in light ; 
I heard no murmur of their roar, 
Nor ever I beheld them flowing, 
Neither coming, neither going ; 
But only saw them o'er and o'er, 
Break against the curved shore : 
Now disappearing from the sight, 
Now twinkling regular and white, 
And Lewti's smiling mouth can shew 
As white and regular a row. 
Nay, treach'rous image from my mind 
Depart ; for Lr.wTi is not kind. M. P. 

LEWTI 255 

I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud : 

Perhaps the breezes that can fly 45 

Now below and now above, 
Have snatched aloft the lawny shroud ^ 

Of Lady fair — that died for love. 
For maids, as well as youths, have perished 
From fruitless love too fondly cherished. 50 

Nay, treacherous image ! leave my mind — 
For Lewti never will be kind. 

Hush ! my heedless feet from under 

Slip the crumbling banks for ever: 
Like echoes to a distant thunder, 55 

They plunge into the gentle river. 
The river-swans have heard my tread. 
And startle from their reedy bed. 
beauteous birds ! methinks ye measure 

Your movements to some heavenly tune ! 60 

beauteous birds ! 'tis such a pleasure 
To see you move beneath the moon, 

1 would it were your true delight 
To sleep by day and wake all night. 

^ This image was borrowed by Miss Bailey (sic) in her Basil as the dates 
of the poems prove. MS. Note hij S. T. C. 

52 For] Tho' M. P. 
Between lines 52-3 

This hand should make his life-blood flow, 
That ever scorn'd my Lewti so. 

I cannot chuse but fix my sight 

On that small vapour, thin and white 1 

So thin it scarcely, I protest, 

Bedims the star that shines behind it ! 
And pity dwells in Lewti's breast 

Alas ! if I knew how to find it. 
And ! how sweet it were, I wist, 

To see my LE^vTI's eyes to-morrow 
Shine brightly thro' as thin a mist 

Of pity and repentant sorrow ! 
Nay treach'rous image ! leave my mind — 
Ah, Lewti! why art thou unkind? 

53 Hush!] Slush! Sibylline Leaves {Errata, S. L., p. [xi], for Slush r. 

256 T.KWTI 

1 know tlio phiec where Lewti lies, 65 

When silent night has closed her eyes : 

It is n breezy jtismine-bower, 
The nightingale sings o'er her head: 

Voice of the Night I had I the power 
That leafy labyrinth to thread, 70 

And creep, lik*^ thee, with soundless tread, 
I then might view her bosom white 
Heaving lovely to my sight, 
As these two swans together heave 
On the gently-swelling w^ave. 75 

Oh ! that she saw me in a dream, 

And dreamt that I had died for care ; 

All pale and wasted I would seem, 
Yet fair withal, as spirits are ! 

I'd die indeed, if I might see 80 

Her bosom heave, and heave for me ! 

Soothe, gentle image ! soothe my mind ! 

To-morrow^ Lewti may be kind. 



A GREEN and silent spot, amid the hills, 
A small and silent dell ! O'er stiller place 

^ First published in a quarto pamphlet 'printed by J. Johnson in 
S. Paul's Churchyard, 1798' : included in Poetical Register, 1808-9 ,1812). 
and, with the same text, in an octavo pamphlet printed by Law and Gilbert 
in (?) 1812 : in Sibylline Leaves,18l7, 1828, 1829, and 1834. Lines 129-97 were 

69-71 Had I the enviable power 

To creep unseen with noiseless* tread 
Then should I view M. P., An. Anih. 

beating heart had I the power. 

MS. Corr. An. Anth. by S. T. C. 
73 my] the M. P., A71. Ayith. 
Below 83 Signed Nicias Erythraeus. M. P. 

Fears in Solitude —Title'] Fears &c. Written, April 1798, during the 
Alarms of an Invasion MS., W.,4°: Fears &c. Written April 1798, &c. P. E. 


No singing sky-lark ever poised himself. 

The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope, 

Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on, 5 

All golden with the never-bloomless furze, 

Which now blooms most profusely: but the dell, 

Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate 

As vernal corn-field, or the unripe flax, 

When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve, 10 

The level sunshine glimmers with green light. 

Oh ! 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook ! 

Which all, methinks, would love ; but chiefly he. 

The humble man, who, in his youthful years, 

Knew just so much of folly, as had made 15 

His early manhood more securely wise I 

Here he might lie on fern or withered heath, 

While from the singing lark (that sings unseen 

The minstrelsy that solitude loves best), 

And from the sun, and from the breezy air, ao 

Sweet influences trembled o'er his frame ; 

And he, with many feelings, many thoughts, 

Made up a meditative joy, and found 

Eeligious meanings in the forms of Nature ! 

And so, his senses gradually wrapt 35 

In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds, 

And dreaming hears thee still, singing lark. 

That singest like an angel in the clouds ! 

My God ! it is a melancholy thing 
For such a man, who would full fain preserve ?,o 

His soul in calmness, yet perforce must feel 
For all his human brethren — my God I 
It weighs upon the heart, that he must think 

reprinted in the Morning Post, Oct. 14, 1802. They follow the reprint of 
France : an Ode, and are thus prefaced : — 'Tlie following extracts are made 
from a Poem by the same author, written in April 1798 during the alarm 
respecting the threatened invasion.' They were included in 21ie Friend, 
No. II (June 8, 1809), as Fears of Solihide.'' An autograph MS. (in the 
possession of Professor Dowden), undated but initialled S.T.C., is subscribed 
as follows : — * N. B. The above is perhaps not Poetry, — but rather a sort of 
middle thing between Poetry and Oratory — sermoni propriora. — Some 
parts are, I am conscious, too tame even for animated prose.' An autograph 
MS. dated (as below 232) is in the possession of Mr. Gordon Wordsworth. 

ig that] which 4^, P. B. 

33 It is indeed a melancholy thing 

And weighs upon the heart 4*^. P.B.,S.L. 


What uproar and what strife may now be stirring 

This way or that way o'er these silent hills — 35 

Invasion, and the thunder and the shout, 

And all the crash of onset ; fear and rage, 

And undetermined conflict — even now, 

Even now. perchance, and in his native isle : 

Carnage and groans beneath this blessed sun ! 40 

We have offended, Oh I my countrymen ! 

We have offended very grievously, 

And been most tyrannous. From east to west 

A groan of accusation pierces Heaven ! 

The wretched plead against us ; multitudes 45 

Countless and vehement, the sons of God, 

Our brethren ! Like a cloud that travels on, 

Steamed up from Cairo's swamps of pestilence, 

Even so, my countrymen ! have we gone forth 

And borne to distant tribes slavery and pangs. 50 

And, deadlier far, our vices, w^hose deep taint 

With slow perdition murders the whole man. 

His body and his soul I Meanwhile, at home, 

All individual dignity and power 

Engulfed in Courts, Committees, Institutions, 55 

Associations and Societies, 

A vain, speech-mouthing, speech -rei^orting Guild, 

One Benefit-Club for mutual flattery, 

We have drunk up, demure as at a grace, 

Pollutions from the brimming cup of wealth ; 60 

Contemptuous of all honourable rule, 

Yet bartering freedom and the poor man's life 

For gold, as at a market I The sweet words 

Of Christian promise, words that even yet 

Might ^.tem destruction, were they wisely preached, 65 

40 groans] screams 4°, P. 7?. 43 And have been tyrannous 4°, P. H. 

44-60 The groan of accusation pleads against us. 


Desunt aliqua 
. . . Meanwhile at home 
We have been drinking with a riotous thirst 
Pollutions, &c. MS. D. 
53-9 Meanwhile at home 

We have been drinking with a riotous thirst. 
Pollutions from the brimming cup of wealth 
A selfish, lewd, effeminated race, MS. W., 4^, P. E. 
[Lines 54-8 of the text were added in Sibylline Leaves. ISl?.} 


Are muttered o'er by men, whose tones proclaim 

How flat and wearisome they feel their trade: 

Rank scoffers some, but most too indolent 

To deem them falsehoods or to know their truth. 

Oh I blasphemous ! the Book of Life is made 70 

A superstitious instrument, on which 

We gabble o'er the oaths we mean to break ; 

For all must swear — all and in every place. 

College and wharf, council and justice-court ; 

All, all must swear, the briber and the bribed, 75 

Merchant and lawyer, senator and priest. 

The rich, the poor, the old man and the young ; 

All, all make up one scheme of perjury, 

That faith doth reel ; the very name of God 

Sounds like a juggler's charm ; and, bold with joy, 80 

Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place, 

(Portentous sight !) the owlet Atheism, 

Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon, 

Drops his blue-fringed lids, and holds them close. 

And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven, 85 

Cries out, ' Where is it ? ' 

Thankless too for peace, 
(Peace long preserved by fleets and perilous seas) 
Secure from actual warfare, we have loved 
To swell the war-whoop, passionate for war ! 
Alas ! for ages ignorant of all 90 

Its ghastlier workings, (famine or blue plague. 
Battle, or siege, or flight through wintry snows,) 
We, this whole people, have been clamorous 
For war and bloodshed ; animating sports, 
The which we pay for as a thing to talk of, 95 

Spectators and not combatants ! No guess 
Anticipative of a wrong unfelt, 
No speculation on contingency, 
However dim and vague, too vague and dim 
To yield a justifying cause ; and forth, 100 

(Stuffed out with big preamble, holy names. 
And adjurations of the God in Heaven.) 
We send our mandates for the certain death 
Of thousands and ten thousands ! Boys and girls, 
And women, that would groan to see a child 105 

Pull off an insect's leg, all read of war, 
69 know] know MS. TF., 4"", P. 7.\ 



The best amiis<*ment i'or our morning meal ! 

The poor wretcli, who has learni liis only prayers 

From curses, wlio knows scarcely words enough 

To ask a blG8sin<j: from his Heavenly Father, no 

Becomes a fluent phraseman, absolute 

And technical in victories and defeats, 

And all our dainty terms for fratricide ; 

Terms which we trundle smoothly o'er our tongues 

Like mere abstractions, empty sounds to which 115 

We join no feeling and attach no form ! 

As if the soldier died without a wound ; 

As if the fibres of this godlike frame 

Were gored without a pang ; as if the wretch, 

Who fell in battle, doing bloody deeds, 120 

Passed off to Heaven, translated and not killed : 

As though he had no w4fe to pine for him, 

No God to judge him ! Therefore, evil days 

Are coming on us, my countrymen ! 

And what if aU-avenging Providence, 125 

Strong and retributive, should make us know 

The meaning of our words, force us to feel 

The desolation and the agony 

Of our fierce doings? 

Spare us yet awhile, 
Father and God! O! spare us yet awhile! 130 

Oh ! let not English women drag their flight 
Fainting beneath the burthen of their babes, 
Of the sweet infants, that but yesterday 
Laughed at the breast I Sons, brothers, husbands, all 
Who ever gazed with fondness on the forms 135 

Which grew up with you round the same fire-side. 
And all who ever heard the sabbath-bells 
Without the infidel's scorn, make yourselves pure ! 
Stand forth ! be men ! repel an impious foe, 
Impious and false, a light yet cruel race, 140 

no from] of 4^, P. R. 112 defeats] deceits. L. [Probabhj a misprint]. 

lai translated] translated 4", P. R. 131 drag] speed 1809. 133 

that] who 1802, 1809. 134 Laugli'd at the bosom ! Husbands, 

fathers, all 1802 : Smil'd at the bosom ! Husbands, Brothers, all The 
Frieyid, 1809. 136 Which] That 1802. 138 pure] strong 1809. 

1 39 foe] race 1809. 

138-9 Without the Infidel's scorn, stand forth, be men, 
Make yourselves strong, repel an impious foe 1802. 

140 yet] and MS. W. 


Who laugh away all virtue, mingling mirth 

With deeds of murder ; and still promising 

Freedom, themselves too sensual to be free, 

Poison life's amities, and cheat the heart 

Of faith and quiet hope, and all that soothes, 145 

And all that lifts the spirit ! Stand we forth ; 

Render them back upon the insulted ocean, 

And let them toss as idly on its waves 

As the vile sea-weed, which some mountain-blast 

Swept from our shores ! And oh ! may we return 150 

Not with a drunken triumph, but with fear. 

Repenting of the wrongs with which we stung 

So fierce a foe to frenzy ! 

I have told, 
O Britons I my brethren ! I have told 
Most bitter truth, but without bitterness. 155 

Nor deem my zeal or factious or mistimed ; 
For never can true courage dwell with them, 
Who, playing tricks with conscience, dare not look 
At their own vices. We have been too long 
Dupes of a deep delusion ! Some, belike, 160 

Groaning with restless enmity, expect 
All change from change of constituted power ; 
As if a Government had been a robe, 

141 Who] That i", P. A'., 1802,1809. 146 we] ye 1809. 148 toss] 

float 1809. 149 sea-weed] sea-weeds MS. W., i", 1802. some] the 1S09. 
150 Swept] Sweeps 1809. 151 fear] awe 1802. 

151-3 Not in a drunken triumph, but with awe 

Repentant of the wrongs, with which we stung 
So fierce a race to Frenzy. 1809. 
154 men of England.! Brothers I I have told 1809. 155 truth] 

truths 1802, 1809. 156 factious] factitious 1809. 157 courage] 

freedom 1802. 159-61 At their own vices. Fondly some expect 

[We have been . . . enmity om.] 1802. 162 constituted] delegated 1802. 
161-4 Restless in enmity have thought all change 
Involv'd in change of constituted power. 
As if a Government were but a robe 
On which our vice and wretchedness were sewn. 1809. 
163 had been] were but 1809. 
163-75 -^^ if ^ government were but a robe 

To which our crimes and miseries were aflfix'd, 

Like fringe, or epaulet, and with the robe 

PuU'd off at pleasure. Others, the meantime, 

Doat with a mad idolatry, and all 

Who will not bow their heads, and close their eyes, 

And worship blindly — these are enomios 

Even of their country. Such have they deemed me. 1802. 

:j62 feaks IX soi.rrrnK 

On wliirli our vice and wrelchednesb were tagged 
Like tHncy-i>oints and fringes, with the robe 165, 

Pulled ott' at pleasure. Fondly these attach 
A nulical causation to a few 
Poor drudges of chastising Providence. 
Who borrow all their hues and qualities 
From our own folly and rank wickedness, 170 

Which gave them birth and nursed them. Others, mean- 
Dote with a mad idolatry ; and all 
Who will not fall before their images, 
And yield them worship, they are enemies 
Even of their country ! 

Such have I been deemed. — 175 
But, dear Britain I my Mother Isle I 
Needs must thou prove a name most dear and holy 
To me, a son, a brother, and a friend, 
A husband, and a father I who revere 
All bonds of natural love, and find them all iSo 

Within the limits of thy rocky shores. 
native Britain ! my Mother Isle ! 
How shouldst thou i)rove aught else but dear and holy 
To me, who from thy lakes and mountain-hills, 
Thy clouds, thy quiet dales, thy rocks and seas, 185 

Have drunk in all my intellectual life, 
All sweet sensations, all ennobling thoughts, 
All adoration of the God in nature, 
All lovely and all honourable things. 
Whatever makes this mortal spirit feel 190 

The joy and greatness of its future being? 
There lives nor form nor feeling in my soul 
Unborrowed from my country ! divine 
And beauteous island I thou hast been my sole 
And most magnificent temple, in the which 195 

166-71 Fondly ... nursed them om. 1809. 171 nursed] nurse 4^, 

S. L. meanwhile] meantime 1809. 175 Such have I been deemed 1809. 

177 prove] be 1802, 1809. 179 father] parent 1809. 180 All 

natural bonds of iS05. 181 limits] circle 1802,1809. 183 couldst 

thou be 1802 : shoTildst thou be 1809. 

184-5 To me who from thy brooks and mountain-hills, 

Thy quiet fields, thy clouds, thy rocks, thy seas 1802. 

To me who from thy seas and rocky shores 

Thy quiet fields thy strean)s ;iud wooded hills ISO'J. 


I walk with awe, and sing my stately songs, 
Loving the God that made me ! — 

May my fears, 
My filial fears, be vain ! and may the vaunts 
And menace of the vengeful enemy 

Pass like the gust, that roared and died away -200 

In the distant tree: which heard, and only heard 
In this low dell, bowed not the delicate grass. 

But now the gentle dew-fall sends abroad 
The fruit-like perfume of the golden furze : 
The light has left the summit of the hill, 305 

Though still a sunny gleam lies beautiful, 
Aslant the ivied beacon. Now farewell, 
Farewell, awhile, soft and silent spot I 
On the green sheep-track, up the heathy hill, 
Homeward I wund my way; and lo ! recalled 210 

From bodings that have well-nigh wearied me, 
I find myself upon the brow, and pause 
Startled ! And after lonely sojourning 
In such a quiet and surrounded nook. 
This. burst of prospect, here the shadowy main, 315 

Dim -tinted, there the mighty majesty 
Of that huge amphitheatre of rich 
And elmy fields, seems like society — 
Conversing with the mind, and giving it 
A livelier impulse and a dance of thought! 220 

And now, beloved Stowey ! I behold 
Thy church-tower, and, methinks, the four huge elms 
Clustering, which mark the mansion of my friend ; 
And close behind them, hidden from my view, 
Is my own lowly cottage, where my babe 235 

And my babe's mother dwell in peace ! With light 
And quickened footsteps thitherward I tend, 
Remembering thee, O green and silent dell I 
And grateful, that by nature's quietness 
And solitary musings, all my heart 230 

Is softened, and made worthy to indulge 
Love, and the thoughts that yearn for human kind. 
Nether Stowey, April 20, 1798. 

207 Aslant the ivied] On the lung-ivied MS. W., 4P. 214 nook] scene 
MS. W., 4'^,P. U. 



No cloud. 110 relique of th« sunken day 

Distinguislies the AVest, no long thin slip 

Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues. 

Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge I 

You see the glimmer of the stream beneath, 5 

But hear no murmuring: it Hows silently, 

O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still, 

A balmy night ! and though the stars be dim, 

Yet let us think upon the vernal showers 

That gladden the green earth, and we shall tind 10 

A pleasure in the dimness of the stars. 

And hark ! the Nightingale begins its song, 

' Most musical, most melancholy ' bird I ' 

A melancholy bird ? Oh I idle thought ! 

In Nature there is nothing melancholy. 15 

But some night-wandering man Avliose heart was pierced 

With the remembrance of a grievous wrong. 

Or slow distemper, or neglected love, 

(And so, poor wretch ! filled all things with himself, 

And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale 20 

Of his own sorrow) he. and such as he, 

' First published in Lyrical Ballads, 1798, reprinted in Lyrical Ballads, 
1800, 1802, and 1805 : included in SibyUine Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 

^ ^ Most musiccd, mofit melancliohj.'' This passage in Milton possesses an 
excellence far superior to Ihat of mere description ; it is spoken in the 
character of the melanchol}- Man, and has theiefore a dramatic propriety. 
The Author makes this remark, to rescue himself from the charge of 
having alluded with levity to a line in Milton ; a charge than which none 
could be more painful to him, except perhaps that of having ridiculed 
his Bible. Footnote io 1. 13 L. B. 1798, L.B. 1800, S.L. 1817, 1828, 1829. 
In 1834 the footnote ends with the word ' Milton ', the last sentence being 

Note. In the Table of Contents of 782S and 182U ' The Nightingale ' is 

The Nightingale— Title'] The Nightingale ; a Conversational Poem, wu-itt^n 
in April, 1798 L. B. 1798: The Nightingale, written in April, 1798 L.B. 
ISOO : The Nightingale A Conversation Poem, written in April, 179iS 
S. L., 1S-3S, 18:^9. 

21 sorrow] sorrowjs L. B. 1798, 1800. 


First named these notes a melancholy strain. 

And many a poet echoes the conceit ; 

Poet who hath been building ui) the rhyme 

When he had better far have stretched his limbs 25 

Beside a brook in mossy forest-dell, 

By sun or moon -light, to the influxes 

Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements 

Surrendering his whole spirit, of his song 

And of his fame forgetful ! so his fame 30 

Should share in Nature's immortality, 

A venerable thing I and so his song 

Should make all Nature lovelier, and itself 

Be loved like Nature ! But 'twill not be so ; 

And youths and maidens most poetical, 55 

Who lose the deepening twilights of the spring 

In ball-rooms and hot theatres, they still 

Full of meek sympathy must heave their sighs 

O'er Philomela's pity-pleading strains. 

My Friend, and thou, our Sister ! we have learnt 40 

A different lore : we may not thus profane 

Nature's sweet voices, always full of love 

And joyance ! 'Tis the merry Nightingale 

That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates 

With fast thick warble his delicious notes, 45 

As he were fearful that an April night 

Would be too short for him to utter forth 

His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul 

Of all its music I 

And I know a grove 
Of large extent, hard by a castle huge, 50 

Which the great lord inhabits not ; and so 
This grove is wild with tangling underwood, 
And the trim walks are broken up, and grass, 
Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths. 
But never elsewhere in one place I knew 55 

So many nightingales ; and far and near. 
In wood and thicket, over the wide grove, 
They answer and provoke each other's song. 
With skirmish and capricious passagings, 
And murmurs musical and swift jug jug, 60 

40 My Friund, and my Friend's sister L. B. 1798, ISOO. 58 song] 

songs L. B. 1798, 180U, S. L. 

^>66 rilK MCirriNCALK 

An<l one low i>iping souiul more sweet than all — 

.Stilling the air with such a harmony. 

That should you close your eyes, you might almost 

Forget it wa>> not day I On moonlight bushes, 

Whose dewy leaflets are but half-disclosed. 6.s 

You may perchance behold them on the twig^5, 

Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes ))oth In-ight and full, 

Glistening, while many a glow-worm in the shade 

Lights up her love-torch. 

A most gentle Maid. 
Who dwelleth in her hospitable home 70 

Hard by the castle, and at latest eve 
(Even like a Lady vowed and dedicate 
To something more than Nature in the grove) 
Glides through the pathways ; she knows all their notes, 
That gentle Maid ! and oft, a moment's space, 75 

What time the moon was lost behind a cloud, 
Hath heard a pause of silence ; till the moon 
Emerging, hath awakened earth and sky 
With one sensation, and those wakeful birds 
Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy, 80 

As if some sudden gale had swept at once 
A hundred airy harps ! And she hath w^atched 
Many a nightingale perch giddily 
On blossomy twig still swinging from the breeze, 
And to that motion tune his wanton song 85 

Like tipsy Joy that reels with tossing head. 

Farewell, O Warbler ! till to-morrow eve, 

And you, my friends ! farewell, a short farewell ! 

We have been loitering long and pleasantly, 

And now for our dear homes. — That strain again I 90 

Full fain it would delay me ! My dear babe. 

Who, capable of no articulate sound. 

Mars all things with his imitative lisp. 

How he would place his hand beside his ear, 

His little hand, the small forefinger up, 95 

61 And one, low piping, sounds more sweet than all — S. L. 181? : (punctuate 
tlius, reading Sound for sounds : — And one low piping Sound more sweet 
than all— Errata, S. L., p. [xii]). 62 a] an all editions to 1884. 64-9 On 

moonlight . . . lier love-torcli om. L. B. 1800. 79 those] these S. L. 1817. 

81 As if one quick and sudden gale had swept L.B. 17V8, 1800, S.L.1817. 

82 A] An all editions to 1884. 84 blossomy] blosmy L. B. 1708, 1800, 
S. L. 1817. 


And bid us listen I And I deem it wise 
To make him Nature's play-mate. He knows well 
The evening-star ; and once, when he awoke 
In most distressful mood (some inward pain 
Had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream — ) loo 
I hurried ^^•itll him to our orchard-plot, 
And he beheld the moon, and, hushed at once. 
Suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently, 
While his fair eyes, that swam with undropped tears, 
Did glitter in the yellow moon-beam ! Well ! — 105 

It is a father's tale : But if that Heaven 
vShould give me life, his childhood shall grow up 
Familiar with these songs, that with the night 
He may associate joy. — Once more, farewell, 
Sweet Nightingale! once more, my friends! farewell. 110 



' The Author has published the following humble fragment, 
encouraged by the decisive recommendation of more than one 
of our most celebrated living Poets. The language was 
intended to be dramatic ; that is, suited to the narrator ; and 
the metre corresponds to the homeliness of the diction. It is 

^ Parts III and IV of the Three Graves Avere first published in The Friend, 
Ko. VI, September 21, 1809. They were included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 
1828, 1829, and 1834. Parts I and II, which were probably written in 
the spring of 1798, at the same time as Parts III and IV, were first 
published, from an autograph MS. copy, in Poems, 1893. [For evidence of 
date compare 11. 255-8 with Dorothy Wordsworth's Alfoxden Journal for 
March 20, 24, and April 6, 8.] The original MS. of Parts III and IV is 
not forthcoming. The MS. of the poem as published in The Friend is in 
the handwriting of Miss Sarah Stoddart (afterwards Mrs. Hazlitt), and is 
preserved with other 'copy' of The Friend (of which the greater part 
is in the handwriting of Miss Sarah Hutchinson) in the Forster 
Collection which forms part of the Victoria and Albert Museum, South 
Kensington. The preface and emendations are in the handwriting of 
S. T. C. The poem was I'eprinted in tlie British Minstrel, Glasgow, 1821 
as * a modern ballad of the very first rank '. In a marginal note in 
Mr. Samuel's copy of Sibylline Leaves Coleridge writes : — ' This very poem 
was selected, notwithstanding the preface, as a proof of my judgment and 
poetic diction, and a fair specimen of the style of my poems generally 
(see the Mirror) : nay ! the very words of the preface were used, omitting 
the nut,' &c. Sec for this and other critical matter. Lyrical Ballads, 1798, 
edited by Thomas Hutchinson, 1898. Notes, p. 257. 

I02 beheld] beholds L. B. 1798, 1800. 


therefore presented as the fragment, not of a Poem, hut of a 
common BuUa^l-tiile.' Whether tliis is sufficient to justify the 
adoption of such a style, in any metrical composition not 
])rofessedly ludicrous, the Author is himself in some doubt. 
At all events, it is not presented as poetry, and it is in no way 
connected with the Author's judgment concerning i)oetic 
diction. Its merits, if any, are exclusively psychological. The 
story which must be supposed to have been narrated in the 
first and second parts is as follows :- — 

' Edward, a young farmer, meets at the house of Ellen her 
bosom-friend Mary, and commences an acquaintance, which 
ends in a mutual attachment. With her consent, and by the 
advice of their common friend Ellen, he announces his hopes 
and intentions to Mary's mother, a widow-woman bordering on 
her fortieth year, and from constant health, the possession of 
a competent property, and from having had no other children 
i»ut Mary and another daughter (the father died in their 
infancy), retaining for the greater part her personal attractions 
and comeliness of appearance ; but a woman of low education 
and violent temper. The answer which she at once returned 
to Edward's application was remarkable — " Well, Edward ! 
you are a handsome young fellow, and you shall have my 
daughter." From this time all their wooing passed under the 
mother's eye ; and, in fine, she became herself enamoured of 
her future son-in-law. and practised every art, both of endear- 
ment and of calumny, to transfer his affections from her 
daughter to herself. (The outlines of the Tale are positive 
facts, and of no very distant date, though the author has 
purposely altered the names and the scene of action, as well as 
invented the characters of the parties and the detail of the 
incidents.) Edward, however, though perplexed by her strange 
detractions from her daughter's good qualities, yet in the 
innocence of his own heart still mistook ^ her increasing 
fondness for motherly affection ; she at length, overcome by 
her miserable passion, after much abuse of Mary's temper and 
moral tendencies, exclaimed with violent emotion — '*0 Edward ! 
indeed, indeed, she is not fit for you — she has not a heart to 
love you as you deserve. It is I that love you ! Marry me, 
Edward ! and I will this very day settle all my property 
on you." The Lover's eyes were now opened ; and thus 
taken by surprise, whether from the effect of the horror which 
he felt, acting as it were hysterically on his nervous system, 
or that at the first moment he lost the sense of the guilt of the 
proposal in the feeling of its strangeness and absurdity, he 
flung her from him and burst into a fit of laughter. Irritated 
by this almost to frenzy, the woman fell on her knees, and in 
a loud voice that approached to a scream, she prayed for a 
curse both on him and on her own child. Mary happened to be 

' ill the cuiiiiiiou ballad iiictru MS. ^ lulbtakiiii' The Friend. 


in the room directly above them, lieard Edward's Laugh, and her 
mother's bhasjihemous prayer, and fainted away. He, liearing 
the fall, ran upstairs, and taking her in his arms, carried her 
off to Ellen's home ; and after some fruitless attempts on her 
part toward a reconciliation with her mother, she was married 
to him. — And here the third part of the Tale begins. 

' I was not led to choose this story from any partiality 
to tragic, much less to monstrous events (though at the time 
that I com^DOsed the verses, somewhat more than twelve years 
ago, I was less averse to such subjects than at present), but 
from finding in it a striking proof of the possible effect on 
the imagination, from an idea violently and suddenly im- 
pressed on it. I had been reading Bryan Edwards's account 
of the effects of the Ohy witchcraft on the Negroes in the West 
Indies, and Hearne's deeply interesting anecdotes of similar 
workings on the imagination of the Copper Indians (those of 
my readers who have it in their power will be well repaid for 
the trouble of referring to those works for the passages 
alluded to) ; and I conceived the design of shewing that in- 
stances of this kind are not peculiar to savage or barbarous 
tribes, and of illustrating the mode in which the mind is 
affected in these cases, and the progress and symptoms of the 
morbid action on the fancy from the beginning. 

' The Tale is supposed to be narrated by an old Sexton, in a 
country church-yard, to a traveller whose curiosity had been 
awakened by the appearance of three graves, close by each 
other, to two only of which there were grave-stones. On the 
first of these was the name, and dates, as usual : on the second, 
no name, but only a date, and the words, " The Mercy of God 
is infinite.^ "' S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829. 

[Part I— From MS.] 

Beneath this thorn when I was young, 

This thorn that blooms so sweet. 
We loved to stretch our lazy limbs 

In summer's noon-tide heat. 

^ In the first issue of The Friend, No. VI, September 21, 1809, the poem 
was thus introduced: — *As I wish to commence the important Subject 
of — The Pririciples of political Justice with a separate number of The 
Friend, and shall at the same time comply with the wishes communi- 
cated to me by one of my female Readers, who writes as the representative 
of many others, I shall conclude this Number with the following 
Fragment, or the third and fourth [second and third MS. S.T.C] parts of 
a Tale consisting of six. The two last parts may be given hereafter, if 
the present should appear to have afforded pleasure, and to have answered 
the purpose of a relief and amusement to my Readers. The story as it 
is contained in the first and second parts is as follows : Edward a youvg 
farmer, etc' 

4 In the silent summer heat MS. alternative reading. 


And liither too the oM man r-anie. 5 

The maiden and her feer, 
' Then toll me, Sexton, tell me why 

The toad has harbour liere. 

* The Thorn is neither dry nor dead, 

But still it blossoms sweet ; 10 

Then tell me why all round its roots 
The dock and nettle meet. 

'Why here the hemlock, &c. [sic In MS.\ 

' Why these three graves all side by side. 

Beneath the flow'ry thorn, 15 

Stretch out so green and dark a length, 
By any foot unworn.' 

There, there a ruthless mother lies 

Beneath the flowery thorn ; 
And there a barren wife is laid, 20 

And there a maid forlorn. 

The barren wife and maid forlorn 

Did love each other dear ; 
The ruthless mother wrought the woe, 

And cost them many a tear. 35 

Fair Ellen was of serious mind. 

Her temper mild and even, 
And Mary, graceful as the fir 

That points the spire to heaven. 

Young Edward he to Mary said, 30 

' I would you were my bride,' 
And she was scarlet as he spoke. 

And turned her face to hide. 

' You know my mother she is rich. 

And you have little gear ; 35 

And go and if she say not Nay, 

Then I will be your fere.' 

Young Edward to the mother went. 

To him the mother said : 
' In truth you are a comely man ; 40 

You shall my daughter wed.' 

14 Wliy these three graves all in a row MS. aUernah're rendlny. 

Stretch out their dark and gloomy length MS. erased. 
33 turned] strove JfS. era.<ie(K 


' [In Mary's joy fair Eleanor 

Did bear a sister's part ; 
For why, though not akin in blood, 

They sisters were in heart.] 45 

Small need to tell to any man 

That ever shed a tear 
What passed within the lover's heart 

The happy day so near. 

The mother, more than mothers use, 50 

Rejoiced when they were by ; 
And all the ' course of wooing ' passed - 

Beneath the mother's eye. 

And here within the flowering thorn 

How deep they drank of joy : 55 

The mother fed upon the sight. 

Nor ... [ sic hi 3fSl. j 

[Part II- From MS.] ' 

And now the wedding day was fix'd, 

The wedding-ring was bought ; 
The wedding-cake with her own hand 60 

The ruthless mother brought. 

' And when to-morrow's sun shines forth 

The maid shall be a bride ' ; 
Thus Edward to the mother spake 

While she sate by his side. 65 

Alone they sate within the bower : 

The mother's colour fled. 
For Mary's foot was heard above — 

She decked the bridal bed. 

And when her foot was on the stairs 70 

To meet her at the door, 
With steady step the mother rose. 

And silent left the bower. 

^ It is uncertain whether this stanza is erased, or merely blotted in 
the MS. 2 Othello iii. 3. 

^ The words ' Part II ' are not in the MS. 

49 happy] wedding MS. variant. 


Shf stood, her ))iiek ajjjainst the door. 

And wliPii lier diihl drew near — 75 

' Away ! away I ' the mother cried, 

' Ye shall not enter here. 

* Would ye come here, ye maiden vile, 

And rob me of my mate ? * 
And on her child the mother scowled 80 

A deadly leer of hate. 

Fast rooted to the spot, you guess, 

The wretched maiden stood, 
As pale as any ghost of night 

That wanteth flesh and blood. 85 

She did not groan, she did not fall. 

She did not shed a tear. 
Nor did she cry, ' Oh ! mother, why 

May I not enter here ? ' 

But wildly up the stairs she ran, 90 

As if her sense was fled, 
And then her trembling limbs she threw 

Upon the bridal bed. 

The mother she to Edward went 

Where he sate in the bower, 95 

And said, 'That woman is not fit 

To })e your paramour. 

'She is my child — it makes my heart 

With grief and trouble swell ; 
I rue the hour that gave her birth, 100 

For never worse befel. 

' For she is fierce and she is proud. 

And of an envious mind ; 
A wily hypocrite she is, 

And giddy as the wind. T05 

' And if you go to church with her. 

You'll rue the bitter smart ; 
For she will wrong your marriage-bed. 

And she will break j^our heart. 

81 A deadly] The ghastly MS. ernml. 


'Oil God, to think that I have shared no 

Her deadly sin so long ; 
She is my child, and therefore I 

As mother held my tongue. 

' She is my child, I've risked for her 

My living soul's estate: 115 

I cannot say my daily prayers, 

The burthen is so great. 

' And she would scatter gold about 

Until her back was bare ; 
And should you swing for lust of hers lao 

In truth she'd little care.' 

Then in a softer tone she said, 

And took him by the hand : 
' Sweet Edward, for one kiss of your's 

I'd give my house and land. 125 

' And if you'll go to church with me. 
And take me for your bride, 

I'll make you heir of all I have- 
Nothing shall be denied.' 

Then Edward started from his seat, 130 

And he laughed loud and long — 
' In truth, good mother, you are mad, 

Or drunk with liquor strong.' 

To him no word the mother said, 

But on her knees she fell, 135 

And fetched her breath while thrice your hand 

Might toll the passing-bell. 

'Thou daughter now above my head, 

Whom in my womb I bore, 
May every drop of thy heart's blood 140 

Be curst for ever more. 

'And cursed be the hour when tirst 

I heard thee wawl and cry ; 
And in the Church-yard cursed be 

The grave where thou shalt lie ! ' 145 


Aiul Mary on the })ridal-ljed 

Her mother's curse had heard ; 
And while the cruel mother spake 

The bed beneath her stirred. 

In wrath young Edward left the hall, 150 

And turning round he sees 
The mother looking up to God 

And still upon her knees. 

Young Edward he to Mary went 

When on the bed she lay: 155 

'Sweet love, this is a wicked house — 

Sweet love, we must away.' 

He raised her from the bridal-bed, 

All pale and wan with fear ; 
'No Dog,' quoth he, 'if he were mine, 160 

No Dog would kennel here.' 

He led her from the bridal-bed, 

He led her from the stairs. 
[Had sense been hers she had not dar'd 
To venture on her prayers. MS. erased.] 

The mother still was in the bower, 

And with a greedy heart 165 

She drank perdition on her knees, 
Which never may depart. 

But when their steps were heard below 

On God she did not call ; 
She did forget the God of Heaven, 170 

For they were in the hall. 

She started up— the servant maid 

Did see her when she rose ; 
And she has oft declared to me 

The blood within her fi'oze. 175 

As Ed\vard led his bride away 

And hurried to the door, 
The ruthless mother springing forth 

Stopped midway on the floor. 

What did she mean? What did she mean? 180 

For with a smile she cried: 
'Unblest ye shall not pass my door, 

The bride-groom and his bride. 


'Be blithe as lambs in April are, 

As flies when fruits are red ; 185 

May God forbid that thought of me 

Should haunt your marriage-bed. 

'And let the night be given to bliss, 

The day be given to glee: 
I am a woman weak and old, 190 

Why turn a thought on me? 

'What can an aged mother do, 

And what have ye to dread ? 
A curse is wind, it hath no shape 

To haunt your marriage-bed.' 195 

When they were gone and out of sight 

She rent her hoary hair, 
And foamed like any Dog of June 

When sultry sun-beams glare. 

* * ^,; * * V- 

Now ask you why the barren wife, 200 

And why the maid forlorn, 
And why the ruthless mother lies 

Beneath the flowery thorn? 

Three times, three times this spade of mine, 

In spite of bolt or bar, 305 

Did from beneath the belfry come. 
When spirits wandering are. 

And when the mother's soul to Hell 

By howling fiends was borne. 
This spade was seen to mark her grave 3 10 

Beneath the flowery thorn. 

And when the death -knock at the door 

Called home the maid forlorn, 
This spade was seen to mark her grave 

Beneath the flowery thorn. 215 

And 'tis a fearful, fearful tree ; 

The ghosts that round it meet, 
'Tis they that cut the rind at night, 

Yet still it blossoms sweet. 

lEnd o/MS.] 



Part III' 

Tlie grapt^.s upon the Vicar's \\all 220 

Were I'ipe as rii)€ could be ; 
And yellow leaves in sun and wind 

Were falling from the tree. 

On the hedge-elms in the narrow lane 

Still swung the spikes of coin; 225 

Dear Lord ! it seems Init yesterday — 
Young Edward's marriage-morn. 

Up through that wood behind the clmrch, 

There leads from Edward's door 
A mossy track, all over boughed, 230 

For half a mile or more. 

And from their house-door by that track 

The bride and bridegroom went ; 
Sweet Mary, though she was not gay, 

Seemed cheerful and content. 235 

But when they to the church-yard came, 

I've heard poor Mary say, 
As soon as she stepped into the sun, 

Her heart it died away. 

And when the Vicar join'd their hands, 240 

Her limbs did creep and freeze : 
But -when they prayed, she thought she saw 

Her mother on her knees. 

' 111 the MS. of The Friend, Part III is headed :— ' The Three Graves. 
A ISextoii'b Tale. A Fragment.' A MS. note erased iti the handwriting of 
S. T. C. is attached: — 'N.B. Written for me by Sarah Stoddart before her 
brother was an entire Blank. I have not vulaniarily been guilty of any 
desecration of holy Names.'' In The Friend, in Sihylline Leaves, in 182S, 
1829, and 1834, the poem iss headed ' The Three Graves, &c.' The heading 
* Part III ' first appeared in 1893. 

Part III] III MS. erased. 

220 foil. In The Friend the lines were printed coiitinuuubly. The 
division into stanzas (as in the MS.) dates from the republication of the 
poem in Sih^jUine Leaves, 1817. 221 as rijie] as they MS. 224 High on 
the hedge-elms in the lane MS. erased. 225 spikes] strikes Sibylline 

Leaves, 1817. [Note. It is possible that 'strikes* — a Somersetshire word — 
(compare 'strikes of flax') was deliberately substituted for 'spikes'. It 
does not appear in the long list of Errata prefixed to Sibylline Leaves. 
Wagons passing through narrow lanes leave on the hedge-rows not single 
'spikes', but little swathes or fillets of corn.] 230 over boughed] over- 
bougli'd Ms. 242 they] he MS. The Friend, 180'J. 


And o'er the church-path they returned — 

I saw poor Mary's back, 345 

Just as she stepped beneath the boughs 
Into the mossy track. 

Her feet upon the mossy track 

The married maiden set : 
That moment — I have heard her say — 250 

She wished she could forget. 

The shade o'er-flushed her limbs with heat — 

Then came a chill like death : 
And when the merry bells rang out, 

They seemed to stop her breath. 355 

Beneath the foulest mother's curse 

No child could ever thrive : 
A mother is a mother still. 

The holiest thing alive. 

So five months passed : the mother still 260 

Would never heal the strife ; 
But Edward was a loving man 

And Mary a fond wife. 

'My sister may not visit us, 
My mother says her nay : 265 

Edward I you are all to me, 

1 wish for your sake I could be 
More lifesome and more gay. 

' I'm dull and sad ! indeed, indeed 

I know I have no reason! 270 

Perhaps I am not well in health, 

And 'tis a gloomy season.' 

'Twas a drizzly time — no ice, no snow ! 

And on the few fine days 
She stirred not out, lest she might meet 275 

Her mother in the ways. 

But Ellen, spite of miry ways 

And weather dark and dreary. 
Trudged every day to Edward's house, 

And made them all more clieery. 280 

260 So five months passed : this mother foul MS erased. 278 dark] 

dank MS. The Friend, 1809. 


Oh I Ellf<n was a fuitlifnl friond. 

More dear than any sister ! 
As cheerful too as singing lark ; 
And she ne'er left them till 'twas dark, 

And then they always missed her. 385 

And now Ash-Wednesday came-tliat day 

But few to church repair: 
For on tliat day you know we read 

The Commination prayer. 

Our late old Vicar, a kind man. 290 

Once, Sir, he said to nie, 
He wished that service was clean out 

Of our good Liturgy. 

The mother walked into the church — 

To Ellen's seat she went : 395 

Though Ellen always kept her church 
All church-days during Lent. 

And gentle Ellen welcomed her 

With courteous looks and mild : 
Thought she, ' What if her heart should melt, 300 

And all be reconciled ! ' 

The day was scarcely like a day — 

The clouds were black outright : 
And many a night, with half a moon, 

I've seen the church more light. 305 

The wind was wild ; against the glass 

The rain did beat and bicker ; 
The church-tower swinging over head, 

You scarce could hear the Vicar ! 

And then and there the mother knelt. 310 

And audibly she cried — 
' Oh ! may a clinging curse consume 

This woman by my side ! 

'O hear me, hear me. Lord in Heaven, 

Although you take my life — 315 

curse this woman, at whose house 
Young Edward woo'd his wife. 

308 swinging] singing JIf.S. The Friend, 3809 : swoying S. L. 309 You 

could not liear the Vicar. M:^. The Frienrl, ISOU. 315 you] thou The 

Friend, ISOy. 


'By night and day, in bed and bower, 

O let her cursed be ! ! ! ' 
So having prayed, steady and slow, 330 

She rose up from her knee ! 
And left the church, nor e'er again 

The church-door entered she. 

I saw poor Ellen kneeling still. 

So pale ! I guessed not why : 325 

When she stood up, there plainly was 

A trouble in her eye. 

And when the prayers were done, we all 

Came round and asked her why: 
Giddy she seemed, and sure, there was 330 

A trouble in her eye. 

But ere she from the church-door stepped 

She smiled and told us why : 
'It was a wicked woman's curse,' 

Quoth she, ' and what care I ? ' 335 

She smiled, and smiled, and passed it off 

Ere from the door she stept — 
But all agree it would have been 

Much better had she wept. 

And if her heart was not at ease, 340 

This was her constant cry — 
' It was a wicked woman's curse — 

God's good, and what care I ? ' 

There was a hurry in her looks. 

Her struggles she redoubled : 345 

' It was a wicked woman's curse, 

And why should I be troubled?' 

These tears w^ill come — I dandled her 

When 'twas the merest fairy — 
Good creature ! and she hid it all : 350 

She told it not to Mary. 

But Mary heard the tale : her arms 

Round Ellen's neck she threw ; 
' Ellen, Ellen, she cursed me. 

And now she hath cursed you ! ' 355 


I saw young Edward l>y himself 

Stalk fast adown the lee, 
He snatched a stick from every fence, 

A twig from every tree. 

He snapped them still with hand or knee, 360 

And then away they flew ! 
As if with his uneasy limbs 

He knew not what to do ! 

You see, good sir! that single hill? 

His farm lies underneath : 365 

He heard it there, he- heard it all, 

And only gnashed his teeth. 

Now Ellen was a darling love 

In all his joys and cares : 
And Ellen's name and Mary's name 370 

Fast-linked they both together came, 

Whene'er he said his prayers. 

And in the moment of his prayers 

He loved them both alike : 
Yea, both sweet names with one sweet joy 375 

Upon his heart did strike ! 

He reach'd his home, and by his looks 

They saw his inward strife : 
And they clung round him with their arms, 

Both Ellen and his wife. 380 

And Mary could not check her tears, 

So on his breast she bowed ; 
Then frenzy melted into grief, 

And Edward wept aloud. 

Dear Ellen did not weep at all, 385 

But closelier did she cling, 
And turned her face and looked as if 

She saw some frightful thing. 

Part IV 

To see a man tread over graves 

I hold it no good mark ; 390 

'Tis wicked in the sun and moon. 
And bad luck in the dark ! 
Part TV] The Three draves, a Sexton's Tale, Part tlie IVtli MS. 


You see that grave ? The Lord he gives, 

The Lord, he takes away : 
O Sir ! the child of my old age 395 

Lies there as cold as clay. 

Except that grave, yon scarce see one 

That was not dug by me ; 
I'd rather dance upon 'em all 

Than tread upon these three ! 400 

'Aye, Sexton! 'tis a touching tale.' 

You, Sir ! are but a lad ; 
This month I'm in my seventieth year. 

And still it makes me sad. 

And Mary's sister told it me, 405 

For three good hours and more ; 
Though I had heard it, in the main. 

From Edward's self, before. 

Well! it passed off! the gentle Ellen 

Did well nigh dote on Mary ; 410 

And she went oftener than before, 
And Mary loved her more and more: 

She managed all the dairy. 

To market she on market-days, 

To church on Sundays came ; " 415 

All seemed the same : all seemed so. Sir ! 

But all was not the same ! 

Had Ellen lost her mirth? Oh! no! 

But she was seldom cheerful ; 
And Edward looked as if he thought 420 

That Ellen's mirth w^as fearful. 

When by herself, she to herself 

Must sing some merry rhyme ; 
She could not now be glad for hours, 

Yet silent all the time. 425 

And when she soothed her friend, through all 

Her soothing words 'twas plain 
She had a sore grief of her own, 

A haunting in her brain. 

395 Sir !J Oh ! 'tis S. L. 


And oft she said, I'm not j^rown thin! 430 

And then her wrist slie spanned ; 
And once when Mary was down-cast, 

She took her by the hand, 
And gazed upon her, and at first 

She gently pressed her hand : 435 

Then liarder. till her grasp at length 

Did gripe like a convulsion ! 
' Alas ! ' said she, ' we ne'er can be 

Made happy by compulsion ! ' 

And once her both arms suddenly 440 

Round Mary's neck she flung. 
And her heart panted, and she felt 

The words upon her tongue. 

She felt them coming, but no power 

Had she the words to smother : 445 

And with a kind of shriek she cried, 
' Oh Christ ! you're like your mother ! ' 

So gentle Ellen now no more 

Could make this sad house cheery ; 

And Mary's melancholy ways 450 

Drove Edward wild and weary. 

Lingering he raised his latch at eve, 

Though tired in heart and limb : 
He loved no other place, and yet 

Home was no home to him. 455 

One evening he took up a book. 

And nothing in it read ; 
Then flung it down, and groaning cried, 

^O! Heaven! that I were dead.' 

Mary looked up into his face, 460 

And nothing to him said ; 
She tried to smile, and on his arm 

Mournfully leaned her head. 

And he burst into tears, and fell 

Upon his knees in prayer: 465 

' Her heart is broke ! God ! my grief, 

It is too great to bear ! ' 

447 you're] how M^. 


'Twas such a foggy time as makes 

Old sextons. Sir ! like me, 
Rest on their spades to cough ; the spring 470 

Was late uncommonly. 

And then the hot days, all at once, 

They came, we knew not how: 
You looked about for shade, when scarce 

A leaf was on a bough. 475 

It happened then ('twas in the bower, 

A furlong up the wood : 
Perhaps you know the place, and yet 

I scarce know how you should,) 

No path leads thither, 'tis not nigh 480 

To any pasture-plot ; 
But clustered near the chattering brook, 

Lone liollies marked the spot. 

Those hollies of themselves a shape 

As of an arbour took, 485 

A close, round arbour ; and it stands 

Not three strides from a brook. 

Within this arbour, which was still 

With scarlet berries hung, 
Were these three friends, one Sunday morn, 490 

Just as the first bell rung. 

"Tis sweet to hear a brook, 'tis sweet 

To hear the Sabbath-bell, 
'Tis sweet to hear them both at once, 

Deep in a woody dell. 495 

His limbs along the moss, his head 

Upon a mossy heap, 
With shut-up senses, Edward lay : 
That brook e'en on a working day 

Might chatter one to sleep. 500 

And he had passed a restless night. 

And was not well in health ; 
The women sat down by his side. 

And talked as 'twere by stealth. 

473 we] one MS. The. Friend, J80U. 483 Lone] Some MS. The Friend, 

2809. 487 a] the MS. The Friend, 1809. 490 friends] deal's MS. erased. 


'The Sun j^eeps tlirougli the close thick leaves. 505 

See, dearest Ellen ! see ! 
Tis in the leaves, a little sun, 

No bigger than your ee ; 

' A tiny sun, and it has got 

A perfect glory too; 510 

Ten thousand threads and hairs of light, 
Make up a glory gay and bright 

Round that small orb, so blue.' 

And then they argued of those rays, 

What colour they might be; 515 

Says this, 'They're mostly green'; says that, 
' They're amber-like to me.' 

So they sat chatting, while bad thoughts 

Were troubling Edward's rest ; 
But soon they heard his hard quick pants, 520 

And the thumping in his breast. 

• A mother too ! ' these self-same words 

Did Edward mutter plain ; 
His face was drawn back on itself, 

With horror and huge pain. 525 

Both groaned at once, for both knew well 
What thoughts were in his mind ; 

When he waked up, and stared like one 
That hath been just struck blind. 

He sat upright ; and ere the dream 5.'',o 

Had had time to depart, 
' God, forgive me ! ' (he exclaimed) 

' I have torn out her heart. ' 

Then Ellen shrieked, and forthwith burst 

Into ungentle laughter ; 535 

And Mary shivered, where she sat. 
And never she smiled after. 


Carmen reliqnum in fubmnn fempus relerjafmn. To-nuTrow I and To-mor- 
row ! and To-morrow ! 

507 in] in M.S'. The Friend, 1809. 511 inserted by S. T. C. .V.s'. 

530-1 He sat upriglit ; and with quick voice 

While his eyes seem'd to start MS. erased. 


thp: wanderings of caini 


A PKosii cuinpobitioii, one not in metre at least, seems jiritnd facie to 
require explanation or apology. It was writteji in the year 1798, near 
Nether Stowey, in Somersetshire, at which place {sanctum et amabile 
notnen I rich by so many associations and recollections) the author had 

^ Tlis Wanderings of Cain in its present shai)e was first published in 1828 : 
included in 1829, and ^with the omission of that part of the Prefatory 
Note which follows the verses) in 1834. The verses (' Encinctured ', &c.) 
were first published in the 'Conclusion ' oi Aids to Reflection, 1825, p. 383, 
with the following apologetic note: — 'Will the Reader forgive me if I 
attempt at once to illustrate and relieve the subject ["the enthusiastic 
Mystics ''] by annexing the first stanza of the Poem, composed in the 
same year in which I wrote the Ancient Mariner and the first Book 
of Christabel.' The prose was first published without the verses or 
'Prefatory Note' in the Bijou for 1828. [See Poems, 1893, Notes, p. 600.] 

A rough draft of a continuation or alternative version of the Wanderings 
of Cain was found among Coleridge's papers. The greater portion of these 
fragmentary sheets was printed by the Editor, in the Athenaeum of 
January 27, 1894, p. 114. The introduction of < alligators' and an 
' immense meadow ' help to fix the date of The Wanderings of Cain. The 
imagery is derived from William Bartram's Travels in Florida and Carolina, 
which Coleridge and Wordsworth studied in 1798. Mr. Hutchinson, 
who reprints {Lyrical Ballads of 1798, Notes, pp. 259-60) a selected 
passage from the MS. fragment, points out ' that Coleridge had for a 
lime thought of shaping the poem as a narrative addressed by Cain to 
his wife '. 

' He falls down in a trance — when he awakes he sees a luminous 
body coming before him. It stands before him an orb of fire. It goes 
on, he moves not. It returns to him again, again retires as if wishing 
him to follow it. It then goes on and he follows : thej' are led to near 
the bottom of the wild woods, brooks, forests etc. etc. The Fire gradually 
shapes itself, retaining its luminous appearance, into the lineaments of 
a man. A dialogue between the fiery shape and Cain, in which the 
being presses upon him the enormity of his guilt and that he must 
make some expiation to the true deity, who is a severe God, and 
l)ersuades him to burn out his eyes. Cain opposes this idea, and says 
that God himself who had inflicted this punishment upon him, had 
done it because lie neglected to make a proper use of his senses, etc. 
The evil spirit answers him that God is indeed a God of mercy, and 
that an example must be given to mankind, that this end will be 
answered by his terrible appearance, at the same time he will be 
gratified with the most delicious sights and feelings. Cain, over-jjersuaded, 
consents to do it, but wishes to go to the top of the rocks to take a farewell 
of the earth. His farewell speech concluding with an abrupt address 
to the promised redeemer, and he abandons the idea on which the being 
had accompanied him, and turning round to declare this to the being 


taken up liis rosidoiice in order to eiijoy the society and close neighbour- 
hood of ii dear and honoured friend, T. Poole, Esq. The work was to 
have been written in concert with another [Wordsworth"', whose name 
ia too venerable within the precincts of genius to be unnecessarily 
brought into connection with such a trifle, and who was then residing 
at a small distance from Nether Stowey. The title and subject were 
suggested by myself, who likewise drew out the scheme and the contents 
for each of the three books or cantos, of which the work was to consist, 
and which, the reatler is to be informed, was to have been finisiied in 
one night ! My partner undertook the first canto : I the secon<l : and 
which ever had done first, was to set about the third. Almost thirty 
years have passed by; yet at this moment I cannot without something 
more than a smile moot the question which of the two things was the 

he sees him dancing from rock to rock in his former shape down those 
interminable precipices. 

' Child affeared by his father's ravings, goes out to pluck the fruits in the 
moonlight wildness. Cain's soliloquy. Child returns with a pitcher of 
water and a cake. Cain wonders what kind of beings dwell in that 
place — whether any created since man or whether this world had any 
beings rescued from the Chaos, wandering like shipwrecked beings from 
another woi'ld etc. 

' Midnight on the Euphrates. Cedars, palms, pines. Cain discovered 
sitting on the upper part of the ragged rock, wlxere is cavern overlooking 
the Euphrates, the moon rising on the horizon. His soliloquy. The 
Beasts are out on the ramp — he hears the screams of a woman and 
children surrounded by tigers. Cain makes a soliloquy debating 
whether he shall save the woman. Cain advances, wishing death, and 
the tigers rush off. It proves to be Cain's wife with her two children, 
determined to follow her husband. She prevails upon him at last to tell 
his story. Cain's wife tells him that her son Enoch was placed suddenly 
by her side. Cain addresses all the elements to cease for a while to 
persecute him, while he tells his stoiy. He begins with telling her that he 
had first after his leaving her found out a dwelling in the desart under 
a juniper tree etc., etc., how he meets in. the desart a young man whom 
upon a nearer approach he perceives to be Abel, on whose countenance 
appears marks of the greatest misery ... of another being who had 
power after this life, greater than Jehovah. He is going to offer 
sacrifices to this being, and persuades Cain to follow him — he comes to 
an immense gulph filled with water, whither they descend followed by 
alligators etc. They go till they come to an immense meadow so surrounded 
as to be inaccessible, and from its depth so vast that you could not see it 
from above. Abel offers sacrifice from the blood of his arm. A gleam of 
light illumines the meadow — the countenance of Abel becomes more 
beautiful, and his arms glistering — he then persuades Cain to offer 
sacrifice, for himself and his son Enoch by cutting his child's arm and 
letting the blood fall from it. Cain is about to do it when Abel himself 
in his angelic appearance, attended by Michael, is seen in the heavens, 
whence they sail slowly down. Abel addresses Cain with terror, 
warning him not to offer up his innocent child. The evil spirit throws 
off the countenance of Abel, assumes its own shape, flies off* pursuing 
a flying battle with Michael. Abel carries off the child.' 


more impracticable, for a mind so eminently original to compose another 
man's thoughts and fancies, or for a taste so austerely pure and simple 
to imitate the Death of Abel ? Methinks I see his grand and noble 
countenance as at the moment when having despatched my own portion 
of the task at full finger-speed, I hastened to him with my manuscript — 
that look of humourous despondency fixed on his almost blank sheet 
of paper, and then its silent mock-piteous admission of failure struggling 
with the sense of the exceeding ridiculousness of the whole scheme — 
which broke up in a laugh : and the Ancient Mariner was written 

Years afterward, however, the draft of the plan and proposed incidents, 
and the portion executed, obtained favour in the eyes of more than one 
person, whose judgment on a poetic work could not but have weighed 
with me, even though no parental partiality had been thrown into the 
same scale, as a make-weight : and I determined on commencing anew, 
and composing the whole in stanzas, and made some progress in realising 
this intention, when adverse gales drove my bark off the * Fortunate 
Isles ' of the Muses : and then other and more momentous interests 
prompted a different voyage, to firmer anchorage and a securer port. 
I have in vain tried to recover the lines from the palimpsest tablet of my 
memory : and I can only offer the introductory stanza, which had been 
committed to writing for the purpose of procuring a friend's judgment 
on the metre, as a specimen : — 

Encinctured with a twine of leaves, 

That leafy twine his only dress ! 

A lovely Boy was plucking fruits. 

By moonlight, in a wilderness. 

(In a moonlight wilderness Aids to Reflection, 1825.) 

The moon was bright, the air was free, 

And fruits and flowers together grew 

On many a shrub and many a tree : 

And all put on a gentle hue, 

Hanging in the shadowy air 

Like a picture rich and rare. 

It was a climate where, they say. 

The night is more belov'd than day. 

But who that beauteous Boy beguil'd. 

That beauteous Boy to linger here ? 

Alone, by night, a little child. 

In place so silent and so wild — 

Has he no friend, no loving mother near? 
I have here given the birth, parentage, and premature decease of the 
' Wanderings of Cain, a poem ', — intreating, however, my Readers, not 
to think so meanly of my judgment as to suppose that I either regard 
or offer it as any excuse for the publication of the following fragment 
(and I may add, of one or two others in its neighbourhood) in its 
primitive crudity. But I should find still greater difficulty in forgiving 
myself were I to record pro taedio publico a set of petty mishaps and 
annoyances which I myself wish to forget. I must be content therefore 
with assuring the friendly Reader, that the less he attributes its 
appearance to the Author's will, choice, or judgment, the nearer 
to the truth he will be. 

S. T. Coleridge (1828;. 



*A LITTLE further, O my father, yet u little further, and 
we shall come into the open moonlight.' Their road was 
through a fore-^st of fir-trees ; ut its entrance the trees stood 
at distances from each other, and the path was broad, and 

c^ the moonlight and the moonlight shadows reposed upon it. 
and appeared quietly to inhabit that solitude. But soon the 
path winded and became narrow ; the sun at high noon 
sometimes speckled, but never illumined it, and now it was 
dark as a cavern. 

10 ' It is dark, my father I' said Enos, 'but the path under 
our feet is smooth and soft, and we shall soon come out into 
the open moonlight.' 

' Lead on, my child ! ' said Cain ; ' guide me, little child I ' 
And the innocent little child clasped a finger of the hand 

15 which had murdered the righteous Abel, and he guided his 
father. 'The fir branches drip upon thee, my son.' 'Yea, 
pleasantly, father, for I ran fast and eagerly to bring thee 
the pitcher and the cake, and my body is not yet cool. How 
happy the squirrels are that feed on these fir-trees ! they leap 

20 from bough to bough, and the old squirrels play round their 
young ones in the nest. I clomb a tree yesterday at noon, 
my father, that I might play with them, but they leaped 
away from the branches, even to the slender twigs did they 
leap, and in a moment I beheld them on another tree. Why, 

25 my father, would they not play with me ? I would be good 
to them as thou art good to me: and I groaned to them 
even as thou gi-oanest Avhen thou givest me to eat, and when 
thou coverest me at evening, and as often as I stand at thy 
knee and thine eyes look at me?' Then Cain stopped, and 

30 stifling his groans he sank to the earth, and the child Enos 
stood in the darkness beside him. 

And Cain lifted up his voice and cried bitterly, and said, 
' The Mighty One that persecuteth me is on this side and on 
that ; he pursueth my soul like the w^ind, like the sand-blast 

35 he passeth through me ; he is around me even as the air ! 
that I might be utterly no more! I desire to die— yea, 

12 moonlight. All, why du.^t thou groau so deeply? MS.Bijua, 1828. 25 
with tne? Is it because wc are not so happy, as they ? Is it because I groan 
sometimes even as thou groanest ? Then Cain stopped, &c. MS. Bijou, 1828. 


the things that never had life, neither move they upon the 
earth — behold! they seem precious to mine eyes. O that 
a man might live without the breath of his nostrils. So 
I might abide in darkness, and blackness, and an empty 4° 
space ! Yea, I would lie down, I would not rise, neither 
would I stir my limbs till I became as the rock in the den 
of the lion, on which the young lion resteth his head whilst he 
sleepeth. For the torrent that roareth far off hath a voice: 
and the clouds in heaven look terribly on me ; the Mighty One 45 
who is against me speaketh in the wind of the cedar grove ; 
and in silence am I dried up.' Then Enos spake to his father, 
'Arise, my father, arise, we are but a little way from the place 
where I found the cake and the pitcher.' And Cain said, 
' How knowest thou ! ' and the child answered — ' Behold the 50 
bare rocks are a few of thy strides distant from the forest ; 
and while even now thou wert lifting up thy voice, I heard 
the echo.' Then the child took hold of his father, as if he 
would raise him : and Cain being faint and feeble rose slowly 
on his knees and pressed himself against the trunk of a fir, 55 
and stood upright and followed the child. 

The path was dark till within three strides' length of its 
termination, when it turned suddenly ; the thick black trees 
formed a low arch, and the moonlight appeared for a moment 
like a dazzling portal. Enos ran before and stood in the open 60 
air ; and when Cain, his father, emerged from the darkness, 
the child was affrighted. For the mighty limbs of Cain were 
wasted as by fire ; his hair was as the matted curls on the 
bison's forehead, and so glared his fierce and sullen eye 
beneath : and the black abundant locks on either side, a rank 65 
and tangled mass, were stained and scorched, as though the 
grasp of a burning iron hand had striven to rend them ; and his 
countenance told in a strange and terrible language of agonies 
that had been, and were, and were still to continue to be. 

The scene around was desolate ; as far as the eye could 70 
reach it was desolate : the bare rocks faced each other, and 
left a long and wide interval of thin white sand. You might 
wander on and look round and round, and peep into the 
crevices of the rocks and discover nothing that acknowledged 
the influence of the seasons. There was no spring, no summer, 75 
no autumn : and the winter's snow, that would have been 
lovely, fell not on these hot rocks and scorching sands. Never 

63-8 hy fire: his hair was black, and matted into loathly curls, and 
his countenance was dark and wild, and told, &c. MS. Bijov, 1828. 


morning lark had [H)ised himself over this desert ; hut the liiige 
serpent often hissed there beneath tlie talons of the vulture, and 

So the vulture screamed, liis wings imprisoned within the coils of 
the serpent. The pointed and shattered summits of the ridges 
of the rocks made a rude mimicry of human concerns, and 
seemed to prophecy mutely of things that then were not ; 
steeples, and battlements, and ships with naked masts. As far 

85 from the wood as a boy might sling a pebble of the brook, there 
was one rock by itself at a small distance from the main ridge. 
It had been precipitated there perhaps by the groan which the 
Earth uttered when our first father fell. Before you approached, 
it appeared to lie flat on the ground, but its base slanted from 

90 its point, and between its point and the sands a tall man might 
stand upright. It was here that Enos had found the pitcher 
and cake, and to this place he led his father. But ere they 
had reached the rock they beheld a human shape : his back was 
towards them, and they were advancing unperceived, when they 

95 heard him smite his breast and cry aloud, ' Woe is me ! woe is 
me ! I must never die again, and yet I am perishing with 
thirst and hunger.' 

Pallid, as the reflection of the sheeted lightning on the 
heavy-sailing night-cloud, became the face of Cain ; but the 

100 child Enos took hold of the shaggy skin, his father's robe, and 
raised his eyes to his father, and listening whispered, 'Ere 
yet I could speak, I am sure, O my father, that I heard that 
voice. Have not I often said that I remembered a sweet voice ? 
O my father ! this is it ' : and Cain trembled exceedingly. 

105 The voice was sweet indeed, but it was thin and querulous, 
like that of a feeble slave in misery, who despairs altogether, 
yet can not refrain himself from weeping and lamentation. 
And, behold ! Enos glided forward, and creeping softly round 
the base of the rock, stood before the stranger, and looked up 

no into his face. And the Shape shrieked, and turned round, 
and Cain beheld him, that his limbs and his face were those 
of his brother Abel whom he had killed ! And Cain stood 
like one who struggles in his sleep because of the exceeding 
terribleness of a dream. 

87 by the terrible groan the Earth gave ivhen, &c. MS. Bijou, 182S. 92-3 
But ere they arrived there they beheld, MS. Bijou, 1828. 94 advancing] 

coming up MS. Bijou, 1828. 98-101 The face of Cain turned pale, but 
Enos said, ^Ere yet, &c. MS. Bijou, 1828. 108-9 Enos crept softly round 

the base of the rock and stood before MS. Bijou, 1828. 1 14-16 of a dream ; 

and ere he had recovered himself from the tumult of his agitation, the 
Shape, &c. MS. Bijou, 1328. 


Thus as he stood in silence and darkness of soul, the 115 
Shape fell at his feet, and embraced his knees, and cried 
out with a bitter outcry, 'Thou eldest born of Adam, whom 
Eve, my mother, brought forth, cease to torment me ! I was 
feeding my flocks in green 23astures by the side of quiet rivers, 
and thou killedst me ; and now I am in misery.' Then Cain 120 
closed his eyes, and hid them with his hands ; and again he 
opened his eyes, and looked around him, and said to Enos, 
'What beholdest thou? Didst thou hear a voice, my son?' 
'Yes, my father, I beheld a man in unclean garments, and 
he uttered a sweet voice, full of lamentation.' Then Cain 125 
raised up the Shape that was like Abel, and said: — 'The 
Creator of our father, who had respect unto thee, and unto 
thy offering, wherefore hath he forsaken thee ? ' Then the 
Shape shrieked a second time, and rent his garment, and 
his naked skin was like the white sands beneath their feet; 130 
and he shrieked yet a third time, and threw himself on his 
face upon the sand that was black with the shadow of the 
rock, and Cain and Enos sate beside him ; the child by his 
right hand, and Cain by his left. They weje all three under 
the rock, and within the shadow. The Shape that was like 135 
Abel raised himself up, and spake to the child, ' I know where 
the cold waters are, but I may not drink, wherefore didst 
thou then take away my pitcher?' But Cain said, 'Didst 
thou not find favour in the sight of the Lord thy God ? ' 
The Shape answered, 'The Lord is God of the living only, 140 
the dead have another God.' Then the child Enos lifted up 
his eyes and prayed ; but Cain rejoiced secretly in his heart. 
'Wretched shall they be all the days of their mortal life,' 
exclaimed the Shape, ' who sacrifice worthy and acceptable 
sacrifices to the God of the dead ; but after death their toil 145 
ceaseth. Woe is me, for I was well beloved by the God of 
the living, and cruel wert thou, my brother, who didst 
snatch me away from his power and his dominion.' Having 
uttered these words, he rose suddenly, and fled over the sands : 
and Cain said in his heart, 'The curse of the Lord is on me ; 150 
but who is the God of the dead ? ' and he ran after the Shape, 
and the Shape fled shrieking over the sands, and the sands 
rose like white mists behind the steps of Cain, but the feet 
of him that was like Abel disturbed not the sands. He greatly 
outrun Cain, and turning short, he wheeled round, and came 155 
again to the rock whei-e they had been sitting, and where Enos 
still stood ; and the child caught hold of his garment as he 



passed by, and he fell upon the ground. And Cain stopped, 
and beholding him not, said, ' he has passed into the dark 

160 woods,' and he walked slowly back to the rocks ; and when he 
reached it the child told him that he had caught hold of his 
garment as he passed by, and that the man had fallen ui)on 
the ground : and Cain once more sate beside him, and said, 
' Abel, my brother, I would lament for thee, but that the spirit 

165 within me is withered, and burnt up with extreme agony. 
Now, I pray thee, by thy flocks, and by thy pastures, and 
by the quiet rivers which thou lovedst, that thou tell me all 
that thou knowest. Who is the God of the dead ? where doth 
he make his dwelling ? what sacrifices are acceptable unto him ? 

1 70 for I have offered, but have not been received ; I have prayed, 
and have not been heard ; and how can I be afflicted more than 
I already am?' The Shape arose and answered, '0 that thou 
hadst had pity on me as I will have pity on thee. Follow me, 
Son of Adam ! and bring thy child with thee ! ' 

175 And they three passed over the white sands between the 
rocks, silent as the shadows. 


I MIX in life, and labour to seem free, 

With common persons pleas'd and common things, 

While every thought and action tends to thee. 
And every impulse from thy influence springs. 
? 1798. 

^ First published without title in Literary Remains, 1836, 1. 280 (among 
other short pieces and fragments ' communicated by Mr. Guteh ' ). First 
collected, again without title, in P. and D. W., 1877-80. 

160 and walked Bijou, 1828. rocks] rock MS. 170 but] and MS. 

176 the] their ilfS. 

To Title] To 1893. The heading Ubi Thesaurus Ibi Cor was 

prefixed to the illustrated edition of The Poems of Coleridge, 1907, 




Beneath yon birch with silver bark, 
And boughs so pendulous and fair, 
The brook falls scatter'd down the rock : 
And all is mossy there ! 

And there upon the moss she sits, 5 

The Dark Ladie in silent pain ; 
The heavy tear is in her eye. 
And drops and swells again. 

Three times she sends her little page 
Up the castled mountain's breast, 10 

If he might find the Knight that wears 
The Griffin for his crest. 

The sun was sloping down the sky, 
And she had linger'd there all day, 
Counting moments, dreaming fears — 15 

Oh wherefore can he stay? 

' First published in 1834. ' In a manuscript list (undated) of the 
poems drawn up by Coleridge appear these items together : Love 96 lines 
... The Black Ladie 190 lines.' Nofe to P. W., 1893, p. 614. A MS. of the 
three last stanzas is extant. In Chapter XIV of the Biographia Litey-aria, 
1817, ii. 3 Coleridge synchronizes the Dark Ladie (a poem which he was 
' preparing ' with the Christdbel. It would seem probable that it belongs to 
the spring or early summer of 1798, and that it was anterior to Love, 
which was first published in the Morning Post, December 21, 1799, under 
the heading 'Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie'. If the MS. 
List of Poems is tlie record of poems actually written, two-thirds of the 
Dark Ladie must have perished long before 1817, when Sibylline Leaves 
was passing through the press, and it was found necessary to swell the 
Contents with ' two School-boy Poems ' and * with a song modernized with 
some additions from one of our elder poets '. 


She hears a rustling o'er the ])rook. 
She sees far off a swinging ])ough ! 
"Tis He! 'Tis my betrothed Knight! 

Lord Falkland, it is Thou ! ' zo 

She springs, she clasps him round the neck, 
She sobs a thousand hoj^es and fears, 
Her kisses glowing on his cheeks 
She quenches with her tears. 

* My friends with rude ungentle words 25 
They scoff and bid me fly to thee ! 

give me shelter in thy breast ! 

shield and shelter me ! 

'My Henry, I have given thee much, 

1 gave what I can ne'er recall, 30 
I gave my heart, I gave my peace, 

O Heaven ! I gave thee all.' 

The Knight made answer to the Maid, 
While to his heart he held her hand, 
' Nine castles hath my noble sire, 35 

None statelier in the land. 

* The fairest one shall be my love's, 
The fairest castle of the nine ! 
Wait only till the stars peep out. 

The fairest shall be thine : 40 

'Wait only till the hand of eve 
Hath wholly closed yon western bars, 
And through the dark we two wall steal 
Beneath the twinkling stars ! ' — 

'The dark? the dark? No! not the dark? 45 

The twinkling stars ? How, Henry ? How ? ' 
God ! 'twas in the eye of noon 
He pledged his sacred vow ! 

And in the eye of noon my love 
Shall lead me from my mother's door, 50 

Sweet boys and girls all clothed in white 
Strewing flowers before : 


But first the nodding minstrels go 
With music meet for lordly bowers, 
The children next in snow-white vests, 55 

Strewing buds and flowers ! 

And then my love and I shall pace. 
My jet black hair in pearly braids, 
Between our comely bachelors 

And blushing bridal maids. 60 


Or, a Vision in a Dream. A Fragment. 

The following fragment is here published at the request 
of a poet of great and deserved celebrity [Lord Byron], and, 
as far as the Author's own opinions are concerned, rather as 
a psychological curiosity, than on the ground of any supposed 
poetic merits. 5 

In the summer of the year 1797^, the Author, then in ill 

1 First published together with Christahel and The Fains of Sleep, 1816 : 
inchided in 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

2 There can be little doubt that Coleridge should have written ' the 
summer of 1798 '. In an unpublished MS. note dated November 3, 1810. 
he connects the retirement between * Linton and Porloek' and a recourse 
to opium with his quarrel with Charles Lloyd, and consequent distress 
of mind. That quarrel was at its height in May 1798. He alludes to 
distress of mind arising from ' calumny and ingratitude from men who 
have been fostered in the bosom of my confidence ' in a letter to J. P. Estlin, 
dated May 14, 1798 ; and, in a letter to Charles Lamb, dated [Spring] 
1798, he enlarges on his quarrel with Lloyd and quotes from Lloyd's 
novel of Edmund Oliver which was published in 1798. See Letters of Samuel 
Taxjlor Coleridge, 1895, i. 245, note 1. I discovered and read for the first 
time the unpublished note of November 3, 1810, whilst the edition of 
1893 was in the press, and in a footnote to p. xlii of his Ivtroduction 
the editor, J. D. Campbell, explains that it is too late to alter the position 
and date of KiMa Khan, but accepts the later date (May, 1798) on the 
evidence of the MS. note. 

53-6 And first the nodding Minstrels go 

With music fit for lovely Bowers, 
The children then in snowy robes, 

Strewing Buds and Flowers. MS. S. T. C. 
57 pace] go MS. S. T. C. 

Kubia Khan, dc. Title of Introduction :— Of the Fragment of Kubla Khan 
1SI6, 1828, 1829. 
1-5 om. lSo4. 

296 KTliLA KHAN 

health, liad retired to a lonely farm-house between Porlock 
and Linton, on the Exmoor confines of Somerset and Devon- 
shire. In consequence of a slight indisposition, an anodyne 

lo had l)een prescribed, from the effects of which he fell asleep 
in his chair at the moment that he was reading the follow- 
ing sentence, or words of the same substance, in ' Purchases 
Pilgrimage': 'Here the Khan Kubla commanded a palace 
to be built, and a stately garden thereunto. And thus ten 
miles of fertile ground were inclosed with a wall.' ' The 
Author Continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, 
at least of the external senses, during w^hich time he has the 
most vivid confidence, that he could not have composed less 
than from two to three hundred lines ; if that indeed can 

JO be called composition in which all the images rose up before 
him as fJiinr/s, with, a parallel production of the correspondent 
expressions, without any sensation or consciousness of effort. 
On awaking he appeared to himself to have a distinct recollec- 
tion of the whole, and taking his pen, ink, and paper, instantly 
and eagerly wrote down the lines that are here preserved. At 
this moment he was unfortunately called out by a person on 
business from Porlock, and detained by him above an hour, 
and on his return to his room, found, to his no small surprise 
and mortification, that though he still retained some vague 

30 and dim recollection of the general purport of the vision, yet, 
with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and 
images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the 
surface of a stream into which a stone has been cast, but, alas ! 
without the after restoration of the latter ! 

Then all the charm 
Is broken— all that phantom-world so fair 
Vanishes, and a thousand circlets sj^read, 
And each mis-shape['s] the other. Stay awhile. 
Poor youth ! who scarcely dar'st lift up thine eyes — 
40 The stream will soon renew its smoothness, soon 

The visions will return ! And lo, he stays, 
And soon the fragments dim of lovely forms 
Come trembling back, unite, and now once more 
The pool becomes a mirror. 
[From The Picture ; or, the Lover's liesoJutmi, 11. 91-100.] 

Yet from the still surviving recollections in his mind, the 
Author has frequently purposed to finish for himself what had 

' 'In Xamdu did Cublai Can build a statel}^ Palace, encompassing 
sixteene miles of plainc ground with a wall, wherein are fertile 
Meddowes, pleasant Springs, delightfull Streames, and all sorts of beasts 
of chase and game, and in the middest thereof a sumptuous house of 
pleasure.'— Pwrc/tas h in Pilgrimage : Loud. ful. 1626, Bk. IV, chap, xiii, 
p. 418. 


been originally, as it were, given to him. '^a/xepov aStov acrio^ 
[AvpLov aStoi/ ao-co 1834] : but the to-morrow is yet to come. 

As a contrast to this vision; I have annexed a fragment of a 
very different character, describing with equal fidelity the 50 
dream of pain and disease.^ 


In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 
A stately pleasure-dome decree : 
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran 
Through caverns measureless to man 

Down to a sunless sea, 5 

So twice five miles of fertile ground 
With walls and towers were girdled round : 
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, 
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; 
And here were forests ancient as the hills, 10 

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. 

But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted 

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover ! 

A savage place ! as holy and enchanted 

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted 15 

By woman wailing for her demon-lover ! ^ 

*And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, 

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, 

A mighty fountain momently was forced : 

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 20 

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail. 

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail : 

And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever 

It flung up momently the sacred river. 

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion 25 

1 The quotation is from Theocritus, i. 145 : — e? varepov aSiov qaw. 

2 The Pains of Sleep. 

3 And woman wailing for her Demon Lover. Motto to Byron's 
Heaven and Earth, published in The Liberal, No. II, January 1, 1823. 

^ With lines 17-24 compare William Bartram's description of the 
'Alligator-Hole.' Travels in North and South Carolina, 1794, pp. 230 8. 

8 there] here S. L. 1828, 1829. 1 1 Enfolding] And folding 1816. 

The word 'Enfolding' is a pencil emendation in David Hinves's copy 
of Christabel. ? by S. T. C. 19 In the early copies of 1898 this line 

was accidentally omitted. 


Tliiough wood and dale the sacred river ran, 

Then reached the caverns measureless to man. 

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean : 

And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far 

Ancestral voices prophesying war I 30 

The shadow of the dome of pleasure 

Floated midway on the waves ; 

Where was heard the mingled measure 

From the fountain and the caves. 
It was a miracle of rare device, 35 

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice ! ' 

A damsel with a dulcimer 

In a vision once I saw: 

It was an Abyssinian maid, 

And on her dulcimer she played, 40 

Singing of Mount Abora. 

Could I revive within me 

Her symphony and song, 

To such a deep delight 'twould win me, 
That with music loud and long, 45 

I would build that dome in air. 
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! - 
And all who heard should see them there. 
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! 
His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! 50 

Weave a circle round him thrice. 
And close your eyes with holy dread, 
For he on honey-dew hath fed. 
And drunk the milk of Paradise. 

^ Compare Thomas Maurice's History of Hindostan, 1795, i. 107. The 
reference is supplied by Coleridge in the Gutch Memorandum Note Book 
(B. M. Add. MSS., No. 27,901), p. 47 : 'In a cave in the mountains of 
Cashmere an Image of Ice,' Sic. 

2 In her 'Lines to S.T.Coleridge, Esq.,'Mrs. Robinson (Perdita) writes :— 

'I'll mark thy "sunny domes" and view 
Thy "caves of ice", and "fields of dew".' 
It is possible that she had seen a MS. copy of Kubla Khan containing 
these variants from the text. 

54 drunk] drank 1816, I8:.'8, L82'.J. 



An Ox, long fed with musty hay, 

And work'd with yoke and chain, 
Was turn'd out on an April day, 
When fields are in their best array, 
And growing grasses sparkle gay 
At once with Sun and rain. 


The grass was fine, the Sun was bright — 

With truth I may aver it ; 
The ox was glad, as well he might, 
Thought a green meadow no bad sight, lo 

And frisk'd, — to shew his huge delight. 

Much like a beast of spirit. 


^ Stop, )ieighbours, stop, why these alarms i^ 

TJie ox is only glad ! ' 
But still they pour from cots and farms — 15 

' Halloo ! ' the parish is up in arms, 
(A Jioaxing-hunt has always charms) 

' Halloo ! the ox is mad.' 

1 First published in the Morning Post for July 30, 1798, with the follow- 
ing title and inti'oduction : — ' Original Poetry. A Tale. The following 
amusing Tale gives a very humourous description of the French Revolu- 
tion, which is represented as an Ox': included in Annual Anfhologif, 
1800, and Sibylline Leaves, 1817 ; reprinted in Essays on His Own Times, 
1880, iii. 963-9, First collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80. In a copy of 
the Annual Anthology of 1800 Coleridge writes over against the heading 
of this poem, '■ Written when fears M^ere entertained of an invasion, and 
Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Tierney were absurdly represented as having 
recanted because to [The French Revolution (?)] in its origin they, [having 
been favourable, changed their opinion when the Revolutionists became 
unfaithful to their principles (?)].' See Note to P. W., 1893. 

The text is that of Sibylline Leaves and Essays on his Own Times. 

3 turn'd out] loosen'd M. P. 9 ox] boast M. P. 


The frighted beast scaniper'd about — 

Plunge ! through tlie hedge he drove : ao 

The mob pursue with hideous rout, 
A bull-dog fastens on his snout ; 
' He gores the dog ! his tongue hangs out ! 

He's mad, he's mad, by Jove!' 

' Stop, neighbours, stop ! ' aloud did call 25 

A sage of sober hue. 
But all at once, on him they fall, 
And women squeak and children squall, 
'What? would you have him toss us all? 

And dam'me, who are you ? ' 30 


Oh ! hapless sage ! his ears they stun. 

And curse him o'er and o'er ! 
' You bloody-minded dog ! (cries one,) 
To slit your windpipe were good fun. 
'Od blast you for an impious son ^ 35 

Of a Presbyterian wh — re ! ' 


'You'd have him gore the Parish-priest, 

And run against the altar ! 
You tiend ! ' the sage his warnings ceas'd, 
And north and south, and west and east, 40 

Halloo ! they follow the poor beast, 

Mat, Dick, Tom, Bob and Walter. 

Old Lewis ('twas his evil day). 
Stood trembling in his shoes ; 

* One of the many fine words which the most uneducated had about this 
time a constant opportunity of acquiring, from the sermons in the pulpit 
and the proclamations on [in S. L.] the corners. An. Anth., S. L. 

19 beast] ox M. P. 22 fastens] fiisten'd M. P. 27 ' You cruel dog ! ' 
at once they bawl. M. P. 31 Oh] Ah I M.P., An. Anth. 35-6 om. 

Essays, cf-c. 38 run] drive M. P. 39 tiend] rogue M. P. 42 Mat, 

Tom, Bub, Dick M. P. 


The ox was his — what coii'd he say? 45 

His legs were stiffen'd with dismay, 
The ox ran o'er him mid the fray, 
And gave him his death's bruise. 


The frighted beast ran on — (but here, 

No tale, (tho' in print, more true is) 50 

My Muse stops short in mid career — 
Nay, gentle Reader, do not sneer ! 
I cannot chuse but drop a tear, 

A tear for good old Lewis !) 

The frighted beast ran through the town, 55 

All follow'd, boy and dad, 
Bull-dog, parson, shopman, clown : 
The publicans rush'd from the Crown, 
* Halloo ! hamstring him ! cut him down ! ' 

They drove the poor Ox mad. 60 


Should you a Rat to madness tease 
Why ev'n a Rat may plague you : 
There 's no Philosopher but sees 
That Rage and Fear are one disease — 
Though that may burn, and this may freeze, 65 
They're both alike the Ague. 


And so this Ox, in frantic mood, 

Fac'd round like any Bull ! 
The mob turn'd tail, and he pursued, 
Till they with heat and fright were stew'd, 70 

And not a chick of all this brood 

But had his belly full! 

49 The baited ox drove on M. P., An. Anth. 50 No . . . print] The 

Gospel scarce M. P., An. Anth. 53 cannot] coiild M.P. 55 The 

ox drove on, right through the town M.P, 62 may] might M. P., An. 

Anth. 68 any] a mad M. P. 70 lieat and fright] flight and fear 

M.P., An. Anth. 71 this] the M.P. 


Old Nick's astrido the In-ast, 'tis clear! 

01(1 Nicholas, to a tittle ! 
But all agree he'd disappear, 75 

Would but the Parson venture near, 
And through his teeth, ^ right o'er the steer, 

S«|uirt out some fasting-spittle. 


Achilles was a warrior fleet, 

The Trojans he could worry : 80 

Our Parson too was s^^'ift of feet, 
But shew'd it chiefly in retreat : 
The victor Ox scour'd down the street. 

The mob fled hurry-scurry. 


Through gardens, lanes and fields new-plough'd, 85 
Through Jus hedge, and through her hedge, 

He plung'd and toss'd and bellow'd loud — 

Till in his madness he grew proud 

To see this helter-skelter crowd 

That had more wrath than courage ! 90 


Alas ! to mend the breaches wide 

He made for these poor ninnies, 
They all must work, whate'er betide. 
Both days and months, and pay beside 
(Sad news for Av'rice and for Pride), 95 

A sight of golden guineas ! 

^ According to the common superstition there are two ways of fighting 
with the Devil. You may cut him in half with a straw, or he will 
vanish if you spit over his horns with a fasting spittle. Note by S. T. C. 
in M. P. According to the superstition of the West-Countries, if you 
meet the Devil, you may either cut him in half with a straw, or force him 
to disappear by spitting over his horns. An. Anfh., S. L. 

73 beast] ox M. P. 75 agree] agreed M. P. 83 scour'd] drove M. P. 
91 Alas] Alack M. P. 



But here once more to view did pop 

The man that kept his senses — 
And now he cried, — ' Stop, neighbours, stop I 
The Ox is mad ! I would not swop, loo 

No ! not a school-boy's farthing top 

For all the parish-fences.' 


' The Ox is mad ! Ho ! Dick, Bob, Mat ! 
'What means this coward fuss? 

Ho ! stretch this rope across the plat — 105 

'Twill trip him up — or if not that, 

Why, dam'me ! we must lay him flat- 
See ! here's my blunderbuss.' 


' A lying dog ! just now he said 

The Ox was only glad — no 

Let's break his Presbyterian head!' 
' Hush ! ' quoth the sage, ' you've been misled ; 
No quarrels now ! let "s all make head. 


As thus J sat, in careless chat, 115 

With the morning's wet newspaper. 

In eager haste, without his hat, 

As blind and blund'ring as a bat, 

In came that fierce Aristocrat, 

Our pursy woollen-draper. lao 


And so ray Muse per force drew bit ; 

And in he rush'd and panted ! 
' Well, have you heard ? ' No, not a whit. 
' What, ha'nt you heard ? ' Come, out with it ! 
'That Tierney votes for Mister Pitt, 125 

And Sheridan 's recanted ! ' 

99 cried] bawl'd M. P. 103 Tom ! Walter ! Mat ! M. P. 109 lying] 
hare-faced M. P. 115 But lo ! to interrupt my chat M. P. 119 In 

came] In rush'd M. P. 122 And he rush'd in M. P. 

125-6 That Tierney's wounded Mister Pitt, 

And his fine tongue enchanted ! M. F. 



William, my teacher, my friend ! dear William and dear 
Dorothea ! 

Smooth out the folds of my letter, and place it on desk or 
on table ; 

Place it on table or desk ; and your right hands loosely half- 

Gently sustain them in air, and extending the digit didactic, 

Rest it a moment on each of the forks of the five-forked 
left hand, 5 

Twice on the breadth of the thumb, and once on the tip of 
each finger ; 

Read with a nod of the head in a humouring recitativo ; 

And, as I live, you will see my hexameters hopping before 

This is a galloping measure ; a hop, and a trot, and a gallop ! 

All my hexameters fly, like stags pursued by the stag- 
hounds, lO 

Breathless and panting, and ready to drop, yet flying still 

I would full fain pull in my hard-mouthed runaway hunter ; 

But our English Spondeans are clumsy yet impotent curb- 
reins ; 

And so to make him go slowly, no way left have I but to 
lame him. 

William, my head and my heart ! dear Poet that feelest and 
thinkest ! i? 

Dorothy, eager of soul, my most afl^ectionate sister ! 

Many a mile, O ! many a wearisome mile are ye distant, 

Long, long comfortless roads, with no one eye that doth 
know us. 

^ First published in Memoirs of W. Wordsworth, 1851, i. 139-41 : reprinted 
in Life by Prof. Knight, 1889, i. 185. First collected as a whole in P. W. 
[ed. T. Ashe], 1885. Lines 30-6, '0 what a life is the eye', &c., were 
first published in Friendship's Offering, and are included in P. W., 1834. 
They were reprinted by Cottle in E. R., 1837, i. 226. The 'Hexameters' 
were sent in a letter, written in the winter of 1798-9 from Ratzeburg to 
the Wordsworths at Goslar. 

2 False metre. S. T. C. 

' * Still flying onwards ' were perhaps better. S. T. C. 


! it is all too far to send you mockeries idle : 

Yea, and I feel it not right ! But ! my friends, my beloved ! 20 

Feverish and wakeful I lie, — I am weary of feeling and 

Every thought is worn down, I am weary yet cannot be 

Five long hours have I tossed, rheumatic heats, dry and 

Gnawing behind in my head, and wandering and throbbing 

about me, 
Busy and tiresome, my friends, as the beat of the boding 

night-spider. ^ 25 

I forget the beginning of the line : 

. . . my eyes are a burthen, 
Now unwillingly closed, now open and aching with darkness. 
O ! what a life is the eye ! what a strange and inscrutable 

essence I 
Him that is utterly blind, nor glimpses the fire that warms 

him ; 
Him that never beheld the swelling breast of his mother ; 30 
Him that smiled in his gladness as a babe that smiles in its 

slumber ; 
Even for him it exists, it moves and stirs in its prison ; 
Lives with a separate life, and 'Is it a Spirit?' he murmurs : 
' Sure it has thoughts of its own, and to see is only a language.' 

There was a great deal more, tvhich I have forgotten. , . . The 
last line which I wrote, I 7'ememher, and write it for the truth of 
the sentiment, scarcely less true in com^jany titan in pain and 
solitude : — 

William, my head and my heart ! dear William and dear 

Dorothea ! 35 

You have all in each other ; but I am lonely, and want you ! 


' False metre. S. T. C. 

28 strange] fine Letter, I'/jS-'J, Cottle, 1S37. 29 Him] He Cottle, ISST. 

30 Him] He Cottle, 1837. 31 Him that ne'er smiled at the bosom as 

babe Letter, 1798-9 : He that smiled at the bosom, the babe Cottle, 1837. 
32 Even to him it exists, it stirs and moves Letter, 1798-9 : Even to him 
it exists, it moves and stirs Cottle, 1837. 33 a Spirit] the Spirit Letter, 

1798-9, 34 a] its Letter, 1798-9. 



[Tiiis paraplirahc, written about the time of CliarLmagne, is by no 
moans deficient in occasional passages of considerable poetic morit. 
There is a flow and a tender enthu:^iasm in tlie following lines which 
even in the translation will not, I flatter myself, fail to interest the 
reader. Ottfried is describing the circumstances immediately following 
the birth of our Lord. Most interesting is it to consider the eff"ect when 
the feelings are wrought above the natural pitch by the belief of some- 
thing mysterious, while all the images are purely natural. Then it is 
that religion and poetry strike deepest. Biog. Lit., 1817, i. 203-4.^] 

She gave with joy her virgin breast ; 

She hid it not, she bared the breast 

"Which suckled that divinest babe ! 

Blessed, blessed were the breasts 

Which the Saviour infant kiss'd ; 5 

And blessed, blessed was the mother 

Who wrapp'd his limbs in swaddling clothes, 

Singing placed him on her lap, 

Hung o'er him witli her looks of love. 

And soothed him with a lulling 'motion. lo 

Blessed ! for she shelter'd him 

From the damp and chilling air ; 

Blessed, blessed ! for she lay 

With such a babe in one blest bed, 

Close as babes and mothers lie ! 15 

Blessed, blessed evermore, 

With her virgin lips she kiss'd. 

With her arms, and to her breast, 

She embraced the babe divine, 

Her babe divine the virgin mother ! 20 

There lives not on this ring of earth 

A mortal that can sing her praise. 

Mighty mother, virgin pure, 

In the darkness and the night 

For us she hore the heavenly Lord ! 25 

1 First published as a footnote to Chapter X of the Biographia Literaria 
(ed. 1817, i. 203-4). First collected in 1863 (Appendix, pp. 401-2). The 
translation is from Otfridi Evang., lib. i, cap. xi, 11. 73-108 (included in 
Schilter's Thesaurus Antiquiiatum Teutonicarum, pp. 50-1, Biog. Lit, 1847, 
i. 213). Otfrid, 'a monk at Weissenburg in Elsass', composed his Evan- 
gelienhuch about 870 a.d. (Note by J. Shawcross, Biog. Lit., 1907, ii. 259). 
As Coleridge says that * he read through Ottfried's metrical paraphrase 
of the Gospel ' when he was at Gottingcn, it may be assumed that the 
translation was made in 1799, 

5 Saviour infant] infant Saviour 186S. 



Heae, my beloved, an old Milesian story ! — 
High, and embosom'd in congregated laurels, 
Glimmer'd a temple upon a breezy headland ; 
In the dim distance amid the skiey billows 
Rose a fair island ; the god of flocks had blest it. 5 
From the far shores of the bleat- resounding island 
Oft by the moonlight a little boat came floating. 
Came to the sea-cave beneath the breezy headland, 
Where amid myrtles a pathway stole in mazes 
Up to the groves of the high embosom'd temple. 10 

There in a thicket of dedicated roses, 
Oft did a priestess, as lovely as a vision, 
Pouring her soul to the son of Cytherea, 
Pray him to hover around the slight canoe-boat, 
And with invisible pilotage to guide it 15 

Over the dusk wave, until the nightly sailor 
Shivering with ecstasy sank upon her bosom. 
? 1799. 



Strongly it bears us along in swelling and limitless billows. 
Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the ocean. 

? 1799. 

^ First published iii 1884. These lines, which are not 'Hendeca- 
syllables ', are a translation of part of Friedrich von Matthisson's Milesisches 
Mdhrchen. For the original see Note to Poems, 1852, and Appendices of this 
edition. There is no evidence as to the date of composition. The 
emendations in lines 5 and 6 were first printed in P. W., 1893. 

- First published (together with the ' Ovidian Elegiac Metre', &c.) in 
Friendship's Offering, 1834 : included in P. W., 1834. An acknowledgement 
that these ' experiments in metre ' are translations from Schiller was first 
made in a Note to Poems, 1844, p. 371. The originals were given on p. 372. 
See Appendices of this edition. There is no evidence as to the date of 

5 blest] plac'd 1884, ISU, lSo2. 6 bleat-resounding] bleak-resounding 
1834, 1352. 16 nightly] mighty 1834, 1844, 





In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery oohinin 
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back. 




Unpehishing youth ! 

Thou leapest from forth 

The cell of thy hidden nativity ; 

Never mortal saw 

The cradle of the strong one ; 5 

Never mortal heard 

The gathering of his voices ; 

The deep-murmured charm of the son of the rock, 

That is lisp'd evermore at his slumberless fountain. 

There 's a cloud at the portal, a spray-woven veil ro 

At the shrine of his ceaseless renewing ; 

It embosoms the roses of dawn, 

It entangles the shafts of the noon, 

And into the bed of its stillness 

The moonshine sinks down as in slumber, 15 

That the son of the rock, that the nursling of heaven 

May be born in a holy twilight ! 

' First published in 1834. For the original {Unsterhlicher Jiingling) 
by Count F. L. Stolberg see Note to Poems, 1844, pp. 871-2, and Appendices 
of this edition. 

On a Cataract — Title] Improved from Stolberg. On a Cataract, &c. 1844, 

2-3 Thou streamest from forth 

The cleft of thy ceaseless Nativity MS. S. T. C. 
Between 7 and 13. 

The murmuring songs of the Son of the Kock, 

When he feeds evermore at the slumberless Fountain. 

There abideth a Cloud, 

At the Portal a Veil, 

At the shrine of tby self-renewing ; 

It embodies the Visions of Dawn, 

It entangles, &c. MS. S. T. C. 



The wild goat in awe 

Looks up and beholds 

Above thee the cliff inaccessible ; — 20 

Thou at once full-born 

Madd'nest in thy joyance, 

Whirlest, shatter'st, splitt'st, 

Life invulnerable. 





Mark this holy chapel well ! 
The birth-place, this, of William Tell. 
Here, where stands God's altar dread. 
Stood his parents' marriage-bed. 


Here, first, an infant to her breast, 6 

Him his loving mother prest ; 

And kissed the babe, and blessed the day. 

And prayed as mothers use to pray. 

* Vouchsafe him health, O God ! and give 
The child thy servant still to live ! ' 10 

But God had destined to do more 
Through him, than through an armed power. 


God gave him reverence of laws, 

Yet stirring blood in Freedom's cause — 

A spirit to his rocks akin, 15 

The eye of the hawk, and the fire therein ! 

^ First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : included in 1828, 1829, and 
1834. For the original {Bei Wilhelm Tells Geburtsstcitte im Kanton Uri) by 
Count F. L. Stolberg see Appendices of this edition. There is no evidence 
as to the date of composition. 

2o Below thee the cliff inaccessible MS. S. T. C. 
22-3 Flockest in thy Joyance, 

Wheelest, shatter'st, start'st. MS. S. T. C. 


To Nature and to Holy Writ 

Alone did God the bo}'^ commit : 

Where flashed and roared the torrent, oft 

His soul found wings, and soared aloft I 20 


The straining oar and chamois chase 
Had formed his limbs to strength and grace : 
On wave and wind the boy would toss. 
Was great, nor knew how great he was ! 


He knew not that his chosen hand, a$ 

Made strong by God, his native land 
Would rescue from the shameful yoke 

Of Slavery the which he broke ! 




Never, believe me, 
Appear the Immortals, 
Never alone : 
Scarce had I welcomed the Sorrow-beguiler, 
lacchus ! but in came Boy Cupid the Smiler ; 5 

Lo ! Phoebus the Glorious descends from his throne ! 
They advance, they float in, the Olympians all ! 
With Divinities fills my 
Terrestrial hall ! 

How shall I yield you 10 

Due entertainment, 
Celestial quire? 
Me rather, bright guests ! with your wings of upbuoyance 
Bear aloft to your homes, to your banquets of joyance, 

' First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : included in 1828, 1829 
('Vision of the Gods', Contents, vol. i, pp. 322-3 of both editions), 
and in 1834. For Schiller's original (Dithyramhe) see Appendices of 
this edition. 

28 Slavery] Slavery, all editions to 1834. 


That the roofs of Olympus may echo my lyre! 15 

Hah ! we mount ! on their pinions they waft up my soul ! 
give me the nectar! 
O fill me the bowl ! 

Give him the nectar ! 

Pour out for the poet, 30 

Hebe ! pour free ! 
Quicken his eyes with celestial dew, 
That Styx the detested no more he may view, 
And like one of us Gods may conceit him to be ! 
Thanks, Hebe ! I quaff it ! lo Paean, I cry ! 25 

The wine of the Immortals 

Forbids me to die ! 


Know'st thou the land where the pale citrons grow. 
The golden fruits in darker foliage glow? 
Soft blows the wind that breathes from that blue sky ! 
Still stands the myrtle and the laurel high ! 
Know'st thou it well, that land, beloved Friend? 5 

Thither with thee, O, thither would I wend ! 


[from the FRENCHJ 

'Come hither, gently rowing. 

Come, bear me quickly o'er 
This stream so brightly flowing 

To yonder woodland shore. 
But vain were my endeavour 5 

To pay thee, courteous guide ; 
Row on, row on, for ever 

I'd have thee by my side. 

1 First published in 1834. For the original (* Mignon's Song') in 
Goethe's Wilhelm Meister see Appendices of this edition. 

' First published in The Atheyiaeum, October 29, 1831. First collected in 
P. and D. IT., 1877-80. For the original ^'Barcarolle de Marie') of 
Fran9ois Antoine Eugene de Planard see Appendices of this edition. 


' Good boatman, prithee liaste thee, 

I seek my fatlier-land.' — lo 

' Say, when I there have placed thee, 

Dare T demand thy hand ? * 
' A maiden's head can never 

So hard a point decide ; 
Row on, row on, for ever 15 

I'd have tliee by my side.' 

The happy bridal over 

The wanderer ceased to roam. 
For, seated by her lover. 

The boat became her home. 20 

And still they sang together 

As steering o'er the tide; 
' Row on through wind and weather 

For ever l)y my side.' 
? 1799. 



*Be, rather than be called, a child of God,' 
Death whispered ! With assenting nod. 
Its head upon its mother's breast, 

The Baby bowed, without demur — 
Of the kingdom of the Blest 

Possessor, not Inheritor. 
April 8, 1799. 

' First published in P. W., 1834. These lines were sent in a letter 
from Coleridge to his wife, dated Gottingen, April 6, 1799 : — 'Ah, my 
poor Berkeley !' '^b. May 15, 1798, d. Feb. 10, J 799] he writes, 'A few 
weeks ago an Englishman desired me to write an epitaph on an infant 
who had died before its Christening. While I wrote it, my heart with a 
deep misgiving turned my thoughts homeward. "On an Infant'', &c. 
It refers to the second question in the Church Catechism.' Letfcrfi of S. T. C. 
1895, i. 287. 

I called] cairdMS.Lefter,1799. 3 its] the MS. Letter, 1799. 4 bow'd 
and went without demur MS. Letter, 1799. 




If I had but two little wings 
And were a little feathery bird, 
To you I'd fly, my dear ! 
But thoughts like these are idle things, 

And I stay here. 5 

But in my sleep to you I fly: 

I'm always with you in my sleep ! 
The world is all one's own. 
But then one wakes, and where am I? 

All, all alone. lo 

Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids: 
So I love to wake ere break of day: 
For though my sleep be gone. 
Yet while 'tis dark, one shuts one's lids, 

And still dreams on. 15 

April 23, 1799. 

^ First published in the Annual Anthology (1800), with the signature 
'Cordomi' : included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The 
lines, without title or heading, were sent in a letter from Coleridge to 
his wife, dated Gottingen, April 23, 1799 (Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 
294-5). They are an imitation (see F. Freiligrath's Biographical Memoir 
to the Tauchnitz edition of 1852) of the German Folk-song Wenn ich ein 
Voglein war. For the original see Appendices of this edition. The title 
'Something Childish', &c., was prefixed in the Annual Anthology, 1800. 

3 you] you MS. Letter, 1799. 6 you] you MS. Letter, 1799. 




'Tis sweet to him who all the week 

Through city-crowds must push his way. 

To stroll alone through fields and woods, 
And hallow thus the Sabbath-day. 

And sweet it is, in summer bower, 5 

Sincere, affectionate and gay, 
One's own dear children feasting round, 

To celebrate one's marriage-day. 

But what is all to his delight. 

Who having long been doomed to roam. lo 

Throws off the bundle from his back, 

Before the door of his own home? 

Home-sickness is a wasting pang ; 

This feel I hourly more and more : 
There's healing only in thy wings, 15 

Thou breeze that play'st on Albion's shore ! 
iVa?/ 26, 1799. 

^ First published in the Annual Anthology (1800), with the signature 
' Cordomi ' : included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, 1884. The lines, 
without title or heading, were sent in a letter from Coleridge to Poole, 
dated May 6, 1799 {Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 298;. Dr. Carlyon in his 
Early Years, &c, (1856, i. 66), prints stanzas 1, 3, and 4. He says that they 
were written from Coleridge's dictation, in the Brockenstammbuch at 
the little inn on the Brocken. The title ' Home-Sick', &c,, was prefixed 
in the Annual Anthology, 1800. 

13 a wasting pang] no baby-pang MS. Letter, 1799, An. Anth. 15 

There's only music in thy wings MS. Letter, 1799. 




I STOOD on Brocken's'^ sovran height, and saw 

Woods crowding upon woods, hills over hills, 

A surging scene, and only limited 

By the blue distance. Heavily my way 

Downward I dragged through fir groves evermore, 5 

Where bright green moss heaves in sepulchral forms 

Speckled with sunshine ; and, but seldom heard, 

The sweet bird's song became a hollow sound ; 

And the breeze, murmuring indivisibly. 

Preserved its solemn murmur most distinct 10 

From many a note of many a waterfall, 

And the brook's chatter ; 'mid whose islet-stones 

The dingy kidling with its tinkling bell 

Leaped frolicsome, or old romantic goat 

Sat, his white beard slow waving. I moved on 15 

In low and languid mood : for I had found 

1 First published in tlie Morning Post, September 17, 1799: included in 
the Annual Anthology (1800) [signed C], in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 
1829, and 1834. The lines were sent in a letter from Coleridge to his 
wife, dated May 17, 1799, Part of the letter was printed in the Amulet, 
1829, and the whole in the Monthly Magazine for October, 1835 A long 
extract is given in GiUman's Life of S. T. C, 1838, pp. 125-88. 

2 The highest Mountain in the Harz, and indeed in North Germany. 

' When I have gaz'd 

From some high eminence on goodly vales, 

And cots and villages embower'd below. 

The thought would rise that all to me was strange 

Amid the scenes so fair, nor one small spot 

Where my tired mind might rest and call it home. 

Southey's Hymn to the Penates. 

3 surging^ surging M. P. 4 Heavily] Wearily MS. Letter. 6 heaves] 
mov'd MS. Letter. 8 a] an all editions to 1834. 9 breeze] gale MS. 

Letter. 11 waterfall] waterbreak ifS. ie«er. 12 'mid] on MS. Letter. 

16 With low and languid thought, for I had found MS. Letter. 

316 LINES 

Tliat outward forms, the loftiest, still receive 

Their finer influence from the Life within ; — 

Fair cyphers else: fair, but of import vague 

Or unconcerning, where the heart not finds ao 

History or prophecy of friend, or child. 

Or gentle maid, our first and early love, 

Or father, or the venerable name 

Of our adored country ! O thou Queen, 

Thou delegated Deity of Earth, 25 

dear, dear England I how my longing eye 

Turned westward, shaping in the steady clouds 

Thy sands and high white cliffs ! 

My native Land ! 
Filled with the thought of thee this heart was proud. 
Yea, mine eye swam with tears : that all the view 30 

From sovran Brocken, woods and -svoody hills, 
Floated away, like a departing dream, 
Feeble and dim ! Stranger, these impulses 
Blame thou not lightly ; nor will I profane, 
With hasty judgment or injurious doubt, 35 

That man's sublimer spirit, w^ho can feel 
That God is everywhere ! the God who framed 
Mankind to be one mighty family, 
Himself our Father, and the World our Home. 
May 17, 1799. 

17 That grandest scenes have but imperfect charms MS. Letter, M. P., 
An. Anth. 

18 Where the eye vainly wanders nor beholds MS. Letter. 
Where the sight, «&c. M. P., An. Anth. 

19 One spot with which the heart associates MS. Letter, M. P., An. Anth. 
19-21 Fair cyphers of vague import, where the Eye 

Traces no spot, in which the Heart may read 
History or Prophecy S. L. 1817, 1828. 

20 Holy Remembrances of Child or Friend MS. Letter. 
Holy Remembrances of Friend or Child M. P., An. Anth. 

26 eye] eyes MS. Letter. 

28-30 Sweet native Isle 

This heart was proud, yea mine eyes swam with tears 
To think of thee : and all the goodly view MS. Letter. 

28 O native land M. P., An. Anth. 34 I] T MS. Letter. 38 family] 
brother-hood MS. Letter. 



Yes, noble old Warrior ! this heart has beat high, 

Since you told of the deeds which our countrymen wrought; 

O lend me the sabre that hung by thy thigh. 
And I too will fight as my forefathers fought. 

Despise not my youth, for my spirit is steel'd, 5 

And I know there is strength in the grasp of my hand ; 

Yea, as firm as thyself would I march to the field, 
And as proudly would die for my dear native land. 

In the sports of my childhood I mimick'd the fight, 

The sound of a trumpet suspended my breath; lo 

And my fancy still wander'd by day and by night, 
Amid battle and tumult, 'mid conquest and death. 

My own shout of onset, when the Armies advance, 
How oft it awakes me from visions of glory ; 

When I meant to have leapt on the Hero of France, 15 
And have dash'd him to earth, pale and breathless and gory. 

* First published in the Morning Post, August 24, 1799 : included in the 
Annual Anthology for 1800 : reprinted in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 276, in 
the Gentleman s Magazine, 1848. (* Communicated to the Bath Herald during 
the Volunteer Frenzy of 1803') (xY. S. xxix, p. 60), and in Essaxjs on His 
Own Times, iii. 988-9. First collected in P. TT., 1877-80, ii. 200-1. The 
MS. is preserved in the British Museum. The text follows that of the 
Annual Antliology, 1800, pp. 173-4. For the original by Count F. L. Stolberg 
{Lied eines deutschen Knaben) see Appendices of this edition. 

The British Stripling's. &c.— Title] The Stripling's War-Song. Imitated 
from the German of Stolberg MS. The Stripling's, &c. Imitated from 
Stolberg L. R. The British Stripling's War Song M. P., An. Anth., Essays, &c. 
The Volunteer Stripling. A Song G. M. 

I Yes] My MS., L. R. 2 Since] When G. M. which] that MS., L. R. 

our] yourilf. P., Essays, dc. 3 Ah I give me the sabre [ Falchion ] that [which 
L. R.] MS., Essays, &c. 5 despise MS., L. R., Essays, &c. 7 march] move 
3IS., L. R. 8 would] could Essays, d:c. native land] fatherland L. R. 

9 fight] sight G. M. 10 sound] shrill [s ound ] MS., L. R. a] the M. P., 
Essays, dc. 12 Amid tumults [tumult L. R.] and perils MS. 'mid] and 
Essays, &c. Mid battle and bloodshed G. M. 

13 My own eager shout in the heat of my trance MS., MS. correction 

in An. Anth., L. R. 
My own shout of unset, t in the heat of my trance G. M., 1S98. 
\ when tho - armio3 advance MS. 

14 visions] dreams full MS., L. R. How oft it has wak'd G. M. 15 
Wiien I dreamt that I rush'd G. M. 16 breathless] deathless L. R. 
pale, breathless G. M. 


As late thro* the city with banners all streaming 
To the music of trumpets the Warriors flew by, 

With helmet and scimitars naked and gleaming, 

On their })roud-trampling, thunder-lioof'd steeds did they 

fly ; 20 

I sped to yon heath that is lonely and bare. 

For each nerve was unquiet, each pulse in alarm ; 

And I hurl'd the mock-lance thro' the objectless air, 

And in open-eyed dream proved the strength of my arm. 

Yes, noble old Warrior I this heart has beat high, 25 

Since you told of the deeds that our countrymen wrought ; 

lend me the sabre that hung by thy thigh, 
And I too will fight as my forefathers fought ! 
? 1799. 


[from lessing] 

I ask'd my fair one happy day. 
What I should call her in my lay ; 

By what svreet name from Rome or Greece ; 

' First published in the Morning Post : reprinted in tlie Poetical Register 
for 1803 (1805) with the signature Harley. Philadelphia, in the Keepsake 
for 1829, in Cottle's Early Recollections (two versions) 1887, ii. 67, and in 
Essays on His Own Times, iii. 990, ' As it first appeared ' in the Morning Post. 
First collected in 1834. For the original {Die Namen) see Appendices of 
this edition. 

17 city] town G. M. 

17-18 \ with bannerets streaming 

( with a terrible beauty 
To [And L. R.'] the music MS. 
19 scimitars] scymetar MS., L. R., EssaT/s, dc, G. M. : scymeter M, P. 
Between 20-1 

And the Host pacing after in gorgeous parade 
All mov'd to one measure in front and in rear ; 
And the Pipe, Drum and Trumpet, such harmony made 
As the souls of the Slaughter'd would loiter to hear. MS. erased. 
21 that] which L. R. 22 For my soul MS. erased. 23 I hurl'd my 
3IS., L. R., Essays, dc. objectless] mind-peopled G. M. 26 Since] When 
G. M. 27 Ah ! give me the falchion MS., L. R. 

Names — Title] Song from Lessing M.P., Essays, etc. : From the German 
of Lessing P. R. : Epigram Keepsake, 1S29, Cottle's Early Recollections. 

I fair] Zoi-e Cottle, E. R, 


NAMES 319 

Lalage, Neaera, Chloris, 

Sappho, Lesbia, or Doris, 5 

Arethusa or Lucrece. 

' Ah ! ' replied my gentle fair, 
'Beloved, what are names but air? 

Choose thou whatever suits the line ; 
Call me Sappho, call me Chloris, lo 

Call me Lalage or Doris, 

Only, only call me Thine.' 


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

* First published in the Morning Post, September 6, 1799 : included in 
1828, 1829, and 1831. It is printed separately as the DeviVs Walk, a Poem, 
By Professor Porson, London, Marsh and Miller, &c., 1830. In 1827, by 
way of repudiating Porson's alleged authorship of The DeviVs Thoughts, 
Southey expanded the Devil's Thoughts of 1799 into a poem of fifty-seven 

4 Iphigenia, Clelia, Chloris, M. P., Cottle, E. R., P. R, 
Neaera, Laura, Daphne, Chloris, Keepsake. 

5 Laura, Lesbia, or Doris, MS. 1799, M. P., Cottle, E. R. 
Carina, Lalage, or Doiis, Keepsake. 

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

8 Beloved.] Dear one Keepsake. 

9 Choose thou] Take thou M.P., P. R. : Take Cottle, E. R. lo Call me 
Laura, call me Chloris MS. 1799, Keepsake. 

lo-ii Call me Clelia, call me Chloris, 

Laura, Lesbia or Doris M. P., Cottle, E. R. 
IO-I2 Clelia, Iphigenia, Chloris, 

Laura, Lesbia, Delia, Doris, 

But don't forget to call me thine. P. R. 
The DeviVs Thoughts. 
3-4 (To look at his little snug farm of the Earth 

I To visit, &c. 182S, 1829. 

And see how his stock went on. M.P., 1828, 182 


Over the hill and over the dale, 5 

And he went over the plain, 

And backward and forward he switched his long tail 
As a gentleman switches his cane. 

And how then was the Devil drest? 
Oh I he was in his Sunday's best : lo 

His jacket was red and his breeches were blue, 
And there was a hole where the tail came througli. 

He saw a Lawyer killing a Viper 

On a dunghill hard by his own stable ; 

And the Devil smiled, for it put him in mind 

Of Cain and his brother, Abel. 

He saw an Apothecary on a white horse 

Ride by on his vocations, 
And the Devil thought of his old Friend 

Death in the Revelations.^ 20 

stanzas entitled The DeviVs Walk. See P. W., 1838, iii. pp. 87-100. In the 
Morning Post the poem numbered fourteen stanzas ; in 1828, 1829 it is 
reduced to ten, and in 1834 enlarged to seventeen stanzas. Stanzas iii and 
xiv-xvi of the text are not in the M. P. Stanzas iv and v appeared as 
iii, iv ; stanza vi as ix ; stanza vii as v ; stanza viii as x ; stanza ix as viii ; 
stanza x as vi ; stanza xi as vii ; stanza xvii as xiv. In 1828, 1829, the 
poem consists of stanzas i-ix of the text, and of the concluding stanzas 
stanza xi ('Old Nicholas', &.c.) of the M. P. version was not reprinted. 
Stanzas xiv-xvi of the text were first acknowledged by Coleridge in 1834. 
^ And I looked, and behold a pale horse, and his name that sat on him 
was Death, Rev. vi. 8. M. P. 

7 switched] awiHh'd M. P., 1828, 1S2D. 8 switches] swishes 3/. P., 

1828, 1820. 9-12 Not in M. P. 14 On the dunghill beside his 

stable M. P. : On a dung-heap beside his stable 1828, 1829. 

15-16 Oh ! oh ; quoth he, for it put him in mind 
Of the story of Cain and Abel M. P. 

16 his] his 1828, 1820. 17 He . . .on] An Apothecary on M. P. : A 

Pothecary on 1828, 1820. 18 Ride] Rode M.P., 1828, 1829. vocations] 
vocation M. P. 20 Revelations] Revelation J\I. P. 



He saw a cottage with a double coach-house, 

A cottage of gentility ; 
And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin 

Is pride that apes humility. 


He peep'd into a rich bookseller's shop, 25 

Quoth he ! we are both of one college ! 

For I sate myself, like a cormorant, once 
Hard by the tree of knowledge.^ 

1 This anecdote is related by tliat most interesting of the Devil's 
Biographers, Mr. John Milton, in his Paradise Lost, and we have here the 
Devil's own testimony to the truth and accuracy of it. M. P. 
' And all amid them stood the tree of life 
High, eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit 
Of vegetable gold (query imper-money), and next to Life 
Our Death, the tree of knowledge, grew fast by. — 

So clomb this first grand thief — 

Thence up he flew, and on the tree of life 

Sat like a cormorant.' — Par. Lost, iv. 

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

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

If any one should ask who General meant, the Author begs leave 

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

* The three first stanzas, which are worth all the rest, and the ninth 
1828, 1829. 

21 saw] past M. P. 23 And he grinn'd at the sight, for his favourite 
vice M. P. 25 peep'd] went M. P., 1828, 1829. 27 sate myself] myself 
sate 1828, 1829. 28 Hard by] Upon M. P. : Fast by 1828, 1829. 



Down tlie rivor did p^lido, with wind and tide, 

A \nix with vast celerity; 30 

And the Devil look'd wise as he saw how the while, 
It cut its own throat. 'There!' quoth he with a smile, 
'Goes "England's commercial prosperity."' 


As he went through Cold-Bat li Fields he saw 

A solitary cell ; 35 

And the Devil was })leased, for it gave him a hint 
For improving his prisons in Hell. 

He saw a Turnkey in a trice 

Fetter a troublesome blade ; 
'Nimbly,' quoth he, 'do the fingers move 40 

If a man be but used to his trade.' 


He saw the same Turnkey unfetter a man, 

With but little expedition, 
Which put him in mind of the long debate 

On the Slave-trade abolition. 45 


He saw an old acquaintance 

As he passed by a Methodist meeting ; — 

29-33 He saw a pig riglit rapidly 

Adown the river float. 
The pig swam well, but every stroke 
Was cutting his own throat. M. P. 
29 did glide] there plied 1S28, 1829. 

Between 33-4 Old Nicholas grinn'd and swish'd his tail 
For joy and admiration ; 
And he thought of his dauglitcr, Victory, 
And his darling babe, Taxation. M. P. 

34-5 As he went through fields he look'd 

At a M.P. 
37 his] the M.P. in] of M.P. 39 Fetter] Hand-cuff If . P. : 

Unfetter 1S34. 

40-1 'Nimbly', quoth he, 'the fingers move 

If a man is but us'd to his trade* M.P. 
43 unfetter] unfettering M. P. 44 And ho laugh'd for he thought 

of the long debates M. P. 46 saw] met M. P. 47 Just by the 

Methodist meeting. M. P. 


She holds a consecrated key, 

And the devil nods her a greeting. 


She turned up her nose, and said, 50 

'Avaunt! my name's Keligion,' 
And she looked to Mr. 

And leered like a love-sick pigeon. 


He saw a certain minister 

(A minister to his mind) 55 

Go up into a certain House, 

With a majority behind. 


The Devil quoted Genesis 

Like a very learned clerk, 
How ' Noah and his creeping things 60 

Went up into the Ark.' 


He took from the poor, 

And he gave to the rich, 
And he shook hands with a Scotchman, 

For he was not afraid of the 65 


General ^ burning face 

He saw with consternation, 
And back to hell his way did he take, 
For the Devil thought by a slight mistake 

It was general conflagration. 70 


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

48 holds] held M. P. key] flag* M.P. 49 And the Devil nods 

a greeting. M. P. 

50-2 She tip'd him the wink, then frown'd and cri'd 

'A vaunt! my name's 

And turn'd to Mr. W M. P. 

66 General ] General 's ill. P. 68 way did take M. P. 

70 general] General M. P. 

* The allusion is to Archbishop Eandolph consecrating the Duke of 
York's banners. See S. T. Coleridge's Notizbuch aus den Jahren 1795- S 
. . . von A. Brandl, 1896, p. 354 (p. 25 a, 1. 18 of Gutch Memorandum Book, 
B. M. Add. MSS. 27,901). 




Nor cold, nor stern, my soul ! yet I detost 

These scented Rooms, where, to a gaudy throng, 

Heaves the proud Harlot her distended breast. 
In intricacies of laborious song. 

These feel not Music's genuine power, nor deign 5 

To melt at Nature's passion-warbled plaint ; 

But when the long-breathed singer's uptrilled strain 
Bursts in a squall — they gape for wonderment. 

Hark ! the deep buzz of Vanity and Hate ! 

Scornful, yet envious, with self-torturing sneer 10 

My lady eyes some maid of humbler state, 

"While the pert Captain, or the primmer Priest, 

Prattles accordant scandal in her ear. 

O give me, from this heartless scene released, 

To hear our old Musician, blind and grey, 15 

(Whom stretching from my nurse's arms I kissed,) 
His Scottish tunes and warlike marches play, 

By moonshine, on the balmy summer-night. 
The while I dance amid the tedded hay 

With merry maids, whose ringlets toss in light. 20 

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

14 heartless] loathsome M. P. 


Or lies the purple evening on the bay 
Of the calm glossy lake, let me hide 

Unheard, unseen, behind the alder-trees, 
For round their roots the fisher's boat is tied. 

On whose trim seat doth Edmund stretch at ease, 25 
And while the lazy boat sways to and fro, 

Breathes in his flute sad airs, so wild and slow, 
That his own cheek is wet with quiet tears. 

But 0, dear Anne ! when midnight wind careers. 

And the gust pelting on the out-house shed 30 

Makes the cock shrilly in the rainstorm crow. 

To hear thee sing some ballad full of woe, 
Ballad of ship-wreck'd sailor floating dead. 

Whom his own true-love buried in the sands ! 
Thee, gentle woman, for thy voice remeasures 35 

Whatever tones and melancholy pleasures 

The things of Nature utter ; birds or trees, 
Or moan of ocean-gale in weedy caves. 
Or where the stifl' grass mid the heath-plant waves. 

Murmur and music thin of sudden breeze. 40 


24 Around whose roots M.P., S. L. 40 thin] then M. P. 
After line 40 

Dear Maid ! whose form in solitude I seek, 
Such songs in such a mood to hear thee sing. 
It were a deep delight !— But thou shalt fling 
Thy white arm round my neck, and kiss my cheek, 

And love the brightness of my gladder eye 45 

The while I tell thee what a holier joy 

It were in proud and stately step to go, 

With trump and timbrel clang, and popular shout, 
To celebrate the shame and absolute rout 

Unhealable of Freedom's latest foe, 50 

Whose tower'd might shall to its centre nod. 

When human feelings, sudden, deep and vast, 
As all good spirits of all ages past 

Were armied in the hearts of living men, 
Shall purge the earth, and violently sweep 55 

These vile nnd painted locusts to the deep, 

Leaving un undebas'd 

A world made woithy of its God. M. P. 

[The words in lines 57, 58 were left as blanks in (he Morning Post, from 
what cause or with wliat obj«;ct must remain a matter of doubt,] 


[The following is an almost literal translation of a very old and vory 
favourite song among the Westphali:\n Boors. The turn at the end is the 
same with ouf of Mr. Dibdin's excellent songs, and th(! air to which it is 
sung by thf P.oors is remarkably sweet and lively.] 

Whkn thou to my true-love com'st 

Greet hor from me kindly ; 
When she asks thee how I fare? 

Say, folks in Heaven faro finely. 

When she asks, ' What ! Is he sick V ' 5 

Say, dead ! — and when for sorrow 
She begins to sob and cry, 
Say, I come to-morrow. 
? 1799. 



God is our Strength ^nd our Refuge : therefore will w^e not 

Tho' the Earth be removed and tho' the perpetual Mountains 
Sink in the Swell of the Ocean ! God is our Strength and 

our Refuge. 
There is a River the Flowing whereof shall gladden the City, 
Hallelujah ! the City of God ! Jehova shall help her. 5 

The Idolaters raged, the kingdoms were moving in furj'' ; 
But he uttered his Voice : Earth melted away from beneath 

Halleluja ! th' Eternal is with us, Almighty Jehova ! 
Fearful the works of the Lord, yea fearful his Desolations ; 
But He maketh the Battle to cease, he burneth the Spear 

and the Chariot. 10 

Halleluja ! th' Eternal is with us, the God of our Fathers ! 

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

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



[imitated from STOLBERG's hymne an die erde'J 

Earth ! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and 

the mother, 
Hail ! Goddess, thrice hail ! Blest be thou ! and, blessing, 

I hymn thee ! 

* First published in Friendship's Offering, 1834, pp. 165-7, with other 
pieces, under the general heading :— Fragments from the Wreck of Memory : 
or Portions of Poems composed in Early Manhood : by S. T. Coleridge. A Note was 
prefixed: — 'It may not be without use or interest to youthful, and 
especially to intelligent female readers of poetry, to observe that in the 
attempt to adapt the Greek metres to the English language, we must 
begin by substituting quality of sound for quantity — that is, accentuated or 
comparatively emphasized syllables, for what in the Greek and Latin 
Verse, are named long, and of which the prosodial mark is — ; and vice 
versa, unaccented syllables for short marked w. Now the Hexameter verse 
consists of two sorts of feet, the spondee composed of two long syllables, 
and the dactyl, composed of one long syllable followed by two short. 
The following verse from the Psalms is a rare instance of a perfect 
hexameter (i. e. line of six feet) in the English language : — 
God came | up with a \ shout : our | Lord with the | sound of a | trumpet. 
But so few are the truly spondaic words in our language, such as Egypt, 
iiproar, turmoil, &c., that we are compelled to substitute, in most instances, 
the trochee; or — w, i. e. in such words as merry, lightly, &c., for the 
proper spondee. It need only be added, that in the hexameter the fifth 
foot must be a dactyl, and the sixth a spondee, or trochee. I will end 
this note with two hexameter lines, likewise from the Psalms : — 
There is a [ river the | flowing whereiof shall | gladden the | city, 
Hallellujah the | city of | God Jelhovah hath | blest her. S. T. C 
On some proof-sheets, or loose pages of a copy of Tlie Hymn as published 
in Friendship's Offering for 1834, which Coleridge annotated, no doubt with 
a view to his corrections being adopted in the forthcoming edition of his 
poems (1834), he adds in MS. the following supplementary note:— 'To 
make any considerable number of Hexameters feasible in our mono- 
syllabic trocheeo-iambic language, there must, I fear, be other licenses 
granted — in ihe first foot, at least— ex. gr. a superfluous v^ prefixed in cases 
of particles such as 'of, ' and ', and the like : likewise — w — where the 
stronger accent is on the first syllable. — S. T. C 

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


Ftn'tli, ye sweet sounds I from my harj). and my voire shall 

float on your surges — 
Soar thou aloft, my soul I and l)ear up my song on thy 


Travelling the vale with mine eyes — green meadows and lake 

with green island, 5 

Dark in its basin of rock, and the bare stream flowing in 

Thrilled with thy beauty and love in the wooded slope of the 

Here, great mother, I lie, thy child, with his head on thy 

bosom ! 
Playful the spirits of noon, that rushing soft through thy 

Green-haired goddess ! refresh me ; and hark ! as they hurry 

or linger, 10 

Fill the pause of my harp, or sustain it with musical murmurs. 
Into my being thou murmurest joy, and tenderest sadness 
Shedd'st thou, like dew, on my heart, till the joy and the 

heavenly sadness 
Pour themselves forth from my heart in tears, and the hymn 

of thanksgiving. 

Earth ! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and 
the mother, 15 

Sister thou of the stars, and beloved by the Sun, the rejoicer ! 

Guardian and friend of the moon, Earth, whom the comets 
forget not, 

Yea, in the measureless distance wheel round and again they 
behold thee ! 

Fadeless and young (and what if the latest birth of creation ?) 

Bride and consort of Heaven, that looks down upon thee 
enamoured ! 20 

Say, mysterious Earth ! say, great mother and goddess. 

Was it not well with thee then, when first thy lap was 

Thy lap to the genial Heaven, the day that he wooed thee and 
won thee ! 

Fair was thy blush, the fairest and first of the blushes of 
morning ! 

Deep was the shudder. Earth the throe of thy self-reten- 
tion: 25 

8 his] its F. 0. 183-1. 9 that creep or rush through thy tresses F. 0. 



Inly thou strovest to flee, and didst seek thyself at thy 

centre ! 
Mightier far was the joy of thy sudden resilience ; and forth- 
Myriad myriads of lives teemed forth from the mighty em- 

Thousand-fold tribes of dwellers, impelled by thousand-fold 

Filled, as a dream, the wide waters ; the rivers sang on their 

channels : 30 

Laughed on their shores the hoarse seas ; the yearning ocean 

swelled upward ; 
Young life lowed through the meadows, the woods, and the 

echoing mountains, 
Wandered bleating in valleys, and warbled on blossoming 



Utter the song, my soul ! the flight and return of 

Prophet and priest, who scatter'd abroad both evil and 

Huge wasteful empires founded and hallow'd slow persecution, 
Soul-withering, but crush'd the blasphemous rites of the 

Pagan 4 

And idolatrous Christians. — For veiling the Gospel of Jesus, 
They, the best corrupting, had made it worse than the vilest. 
Wherefore Heaven decreed th' enthusiast warrior of Mecca, 
Choosing good from iniquity rather than evil from goodness. 
Loud the tumult in Mecca surrounding the fane of the 
idol ; — 

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

33 on] in F. 0. IHSi. After 33 ****** ^, 0. 1834. 


Naked and prostrate the priesthood were hiid — the jKJoplo with 
mad shouts lo 

Thundering now, and now with saddest ululation 
Fhnv, as over the channel of rock-stone the ruinous river 
Shatters its waters abreast, and in mazy uproar bewilder'd, 
Rushes dividuous all— all rushing impetuous onward. 
? 1799. 


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

' First published (with four preliminary and three concluding stanzas) 
as the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie, in the Morning Post, Dec. 21, 
1799 (for complete text with introductory letter vide Appendices) : included 
(as Love) in the Lyrical Ballads of 1800, 1802, 1805 : reprinted with the text 
of the Morning Post in English Minstrelsy, 1810 (ii. 131-9) with the following 
prefatory note : — ' These exquisite stanzas appeared some years ago in 

iore— Title] Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie ilf. P. : Fragment, 
S. T. Coleridge English Minstrelsy, 1810. 
Opening stanzas 

leave the Lilly on its stem ; 

leave the Rose upon the spray ; 
leave the Elder-bloom, fair Maids ! 
And listen to my lay. 

A Cypress and a Myrtle bough. 

This morn around my harp you twin'd, 

Because it fashioned mournfully 
Its murmurs in the wind. 

And now a Tale of Love and Woe, 

A woeful Tale of Love I sing : 
Hark, gentle Maidens, hark ! it sighs 

And trembles on the string. 

But most, my own dear Genevieve ! 

It sighs and trembles most for thee ! 
O come and hear what cruel wrongs 

Befel the dark Ladie. 

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

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

LOVE 331 

Oft in my waking dreams do I 5 

Live o'er again that happy hour, 
When midway on the mount I lay, 
Beside the ruined tower. 

a London Newspaper, and have since that time been republished in 
Mr. Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads, but with some alterations ; the Poet 
having apparently relinquished his intention of writing the Fate of the 
Dark Ladye' : included (as Love) in Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 
The four opening and three concluding stanzas with prefatory note were 
republished in Literary Remains, 1886, pp. 50-2, and were first collected in 
1844. For a facsimile of the MS. of Love as printed in the Lyrical Ballads, 
1800 (i. 138-44), see Wordsivorth and Coleridge MSS., edited by W. Hale White, 
1897 (between pp. 84-5). For a collation of the Introduction to the Tale of the 
Dark Ladie with two MSS. in the British Museum [Add. MSS., No. 27,902] 
see Coleridge'' s Poems. A Facsimile Reproduction, &c. Ed. by James Dykes 
Campbell, 1899, and Appendices of this edition. 

It is probable that the greater part of the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark 
Ladle was written either during or shortly after a visit which Coleridge 
paid to the Wordsworths's friends, George and Maiy, and Sarah Hutchin- 
son, at Sockburn, a farm-house on the banks of the Tees, in November, 
1799. In the first draft, 11. 13-16, ' She leaned, &c. ' runs thus : — 

She lean'd against a grey stone rudely carv'd, 

The statue of an arm^d Knight : 

She lean'd in melancholy mood 
Amid the lingering light. 
In the church at Sockburn there is a recumbent statue of an * armed 
knight ' (of the Conyers family), and in a field near the farm-house there 
is a * Grey-Stone ' which is said to commemorate the slaying of a 
monstrous wyverne or * worme ' by the knight who is buried in the 
church. It is difficult to believe that the 'armed knight' and the 
' grey stone ' of the first draft were not suggested by the statue in 
Sockburn Church, and the 'Grey-Stone' in the adjoining field. It 
has been argued that the Ballad of the Dark Ladie, of which only a 
fragment remains, was written after Coleridge returned from Germany, 
and that the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie, which embodies 
Love, was written at Stowey in 1797 or 1798. But in referring to 
'the plan ' of the Lyncal Ballads of 1798 {Biog. Lit., 1817, Cap. XIV, ii. 3) 
Coleridge says that he had written the Ancietit Mariner, and was preparing 
the Dark Ladie and the Christabel (both unpublished poems when this 
Chapter was written), but says nothing of so typical a poem as Love. 
By the Da7-k Ladie he must have meant the unfinished Ballad of the Dark 
Ladie, which, at one time, numbered 190 lines, not the Introduction to the 
Tale of the Dark Ladie, which later on he refers to as the ' poem entitled 
Love' {Biog. Lit., 1817, Cap. XXIV, ii. 298), and Avhich had appeared 
under that title in the Lyrical Ballads of 1800, 1802, and 1805. 

In Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834, Love, which was the first 

5-6 O ever in my waking dreams 

I dwell upon M.P., MS. erased. 
7 lay] sate M. P. 

332 LOVE 

The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene 
Had blended with the lights of eve ; lo 

And she was there, my hope, my joy, 
My own dear Genevieve ! 

She leant against the armed man, 
The statue of the armed knight ; 
She stood and listened to my lay, 15 

Amid the lingering light. 

Few sorrows hath she of her own, 
My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! 
She loves me best, whene'er I sing 

The songs that make her grieve. 30 

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

She listened with a flitting blush, 35 

With downcast eyes and modest grace ; 
For well she knew, I could not choose 
But gaze upon her face. 

I told her of the Knight that wore 
Upon his shield a burning brand ; 30 

And that for ten long years he wooed 
The Lady of the Land. 

in order of a group of poems with the sub-title 'Love Poems', was 

prefaced by the following motto : — 

Quas humilis tenero stylus olim effudit in aevo, 

Perlegis hie lacrymas, et quod pharetratus acuta 

Ille puer puero fecit mihi cuspide vulnus. 

Omnia paulatim consumit longior aetas, 

Vivendoque simul morimur, rapimurque manendo. 

Ipse mihi collatus enim non ille videbor : 

Frons alia est, moresque alii, nova mentis imago, 

Voxque aliud sonat — 

Pectore nunc gelido calidos miseremur amantes, 

Jamque arsisse pudet. Veteres tranquilla tumultus 

Mens horret, relegensque alium putat ista locutum. 


15 lay] harp M. P., MS., L. B. 21 soft] sad M. P., MS. erased. 23 

suited] fitted M. P., MS., L. B. 22 sang] sung E. M. 24 That 

ruin] The Ruin M. P., MS., L. B. : The ruins E. M. 29 that] who M. P. 
31 that] how M.P. 

LOVE 333 

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

Interpreted my own. 

She listened with a flitting blush, 
With downcast eyes, and modest grace ; 
And she forgave me, that I gazed 

Too fondly on her face ! 40 

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

That sometimes from the savage den, 45 

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

There came and looked him in the face 
An angel beautiful and bright ; 50 

And that he knew it was a Fiend, 
This miserable Knight I 

And that unknowing what he did. 
He leaped amid a murderous band, 
And saved from outrage worse than death 55 

The Lady of the Land ! 

And how she wept, and clasped his knees ; 
And how she tended him in vain — 
And ever strove to expiate 

The scorn that crazed his brain ; — 60 

34 Tiie low, the deep MS., L. B. 35 In which I told E. M. 42 

That] Which MS., L. B. that] this M. P., MS., L. B. 43 And how he 
roam'd M. P. that] how MS. erased. 

Bdiceen 44-5 

And how he crosb'd the Woodman's paths [path E. M.] 

Tho' briars and swampy mosses beat. 
How boughs rebounding scourg'd his limbs. 
And low stubs gor'd his feet. M. P. 
45 That] How M.P., MS. erased. 51 that] how M. P., MS. erased. 

53 that] how M.P., MS. erased. 54 murderous] lawless M. P. 

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

334 LOVE 

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

His dying words — but when I reached 65 

That tenderest strain of all the ditty, 
My faultering voice and pausing harp 
Disturbed her soul with pity ! 

All impulses of soul and sense 

Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve ; 70 

The music and tlie doleful tale, 
The rich and balmy eve ; 

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope. 
An undistinguishable throng, 

And gentle wishes long subdued, 75 

Subdued and cherished long! 

She wept with pity and delight. 

She blushed with love, and virgin-shame ; 

And like the murmur of a dream, 

I heard her breathe my name. 80 

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

She half enclosed me with her arms, 85 

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

'Twas partly love, and partly fear. 
And partly 'twas a bashful art, 90 

That I might rather feel, than see. 
The swelling of her heart. 

61 that] how M. P., MS. erased. 78 virgin-] maiden- M. P., MS., L. B. 
79 murmur] murmurs ilf. P. 

( heave 
Between 80-1 I saw her bosom |i4a€ and swell, 

Heave and swell with inward sighs — 
I could not choose but love to see 

Her gentle bosom rise. M. P., MS, erased. 
81 Her wet cheek glowed M.P., MS. erased. 84 fled] flew M. P. 


LOVE 335 

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

My bright and beauteous Bride. 



And hail the Chapel! hail the Platform wild! 

Where Tell directed the avenging dart, 
With well-strung arm, that first preservst his child, 

Then aim'd the arrow at the tyrant's heart. 

Splendour's fondly-fostered child! 
And did you hail the platform wild, 

Where once the Austrian fell 

Beneath the shaft of Tell ! 
O Lady, nursed in pomp and pleasure ! 5 

Whence learn'd you that heroic measm-e? 

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

94 virgin] maiden MS. erased. 95 so] thus M. P. 

After 96 And now once more a tale of woe, 
A woeful tale of love I sing ; 
For thee, my Genevieve ! it sighs, 

And trembles on the string. 
When last I sang [sung E. M.'] the cruel scorn 

That craz'd this bold and lonely [lovely E. M.] knight. 
And how he roam'd the mountain woods. 

Nor rested day or night ; 
I promis'd thee a sister tale 

Of Man's perfidious Cruelty ; 
Come, then, and hear what cruel wrong 
Befel the Dark Ladie. 

End of the Introduction M. P. 

Ode to Georgiana, &c. — Motto 4 Then wing'd the arrow to M. P., An. Anth. 
Sub-title] On the 24**' stanza in her Poem, entitled ' The Passage of the 
Mountain of St. Gothard.' M. P. 

i-a Lady, Splendor's foster'd child 

And did you M. P. 
2 you] you An. Anth. 


Light as a dream your days their circlets ran. 
From all that teaches brotherhood to Man 
Far, far removed ! from want, from hope, from fear I 
Enchanting music lulled your infant ear, lo 

Obeisance, praises soothed your infant heart: 
Emblazonments and old ancestral crests, 
With many a bright obtrusive form of art, 
Detained your eye from Nature : stately vests. 
That veiling strove to deck your charms divine. 15 

Rich viands, and the pleasurable wine, 
Were yours unearned by toil ; nor could you see 
The unenjoying toiler's misery. 
And yet, free Nature's uncorrupted child, 
You hailed the Chapel and the Platform wild, 20 

Where once the Austrian fell 
Beneath the shaft of Tell ! 

Lady, nursed in pomp and pleasure ! 

Whence learn'd you that heroic measure? 

There crowd your finely-fibred frame 35 

All living faculties of bliss ; 
And Genius to your cradle came, 
His forehead wreathed with lambent liaiiie, 
And bending low, with godlike kiss 
Breath'd in a more celestial life ; 30 

But boasts not many a fair compeer 

A heart as sensitive to joy and fear? 
And some, perchance, might wage an equal strife, 
Some few, to nobler being wrought, 
Corrivals in the nobler gift of thought. 35 

Yet these delight to celebrate 
Laurelled War and plumy State ; 
Or in verse and music dress 
Tales of rustic happiness — 

7 your years their courses M. P. 9 Ah ! far remov'd from want and 

hope and fear xV. P. n Obeisant praises 3f. P. 14 stately] gorgeous 

M.P. 15 am. Ayi. Anth. 

31 foil. But many of your many fair compeers 

[But many of thy many fair compeers M.P.'\ 
Have frames as sensible of joys and fears ; 
And some might wage an equal strife An. Anth. 
34-5 (Some few perchance to nobler being wrought), 

Corrivals in the plastic powers of thought. M. P. 
35 Corrivals] co-rivals An. Anth., S. L. 1828. 36 these] these S. L. 

1828, 1829. 


Pernicious tales ! insidious strains ! 40 

That steel the rich man's breast, 
And mock the lot unblest, 
The sordid vices and the abject pains, 
Which evermore must be 

The doom of ignorance and penury ! 45 

But you, free Nature's uncorrupted child, 
You hailed the Chapel and the Platform wild, 
Where once the Austrian fell 
Beneath the shaft of Tell ! 
O Lady, nursed in pomp and pleasure ! 50 

Whence learn'd you that heroic measure? 

You were a Mother ! That most holy name. 
Which Heaven and Nature bless, 
I may not vilely prostitute to those 

Whose infants owe them less 55 

Than the poor caterpillar owes 
Its gaudy parent fly. 
You were a mother ! at your bosom fed 

The babes that loved you. You, with laughing eye, 
Each twilight-thought, each nascent feeling read, 60 
Which you yourself created. Oh ! delight ! 
A second time to be a mother. 

Without the mother's bitter groans: 
Another thought, and yet another. 

By touch, or taste, by looks or tones, 65 

O'er the growing sense to roll. 
The mother of your infant's soul ! 
The Angel of the Earth, who, while he guides^ 

His chariot-planet round the goal of day, 
All trembling gazes on the eye of God 7° 

A moment turned his awful face away ; 
And as he viewed you, from his aspect sweet 

New influences in your being rose, 
Blest intuitions and communions fleet 

With living Nature, in her joys and woes I 75 

^ In a copy of the Annual Anthology Coleridge drew his pen through 
11. 68-77, but the lines appeared in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, and in all later 
editions (see P. W., 1893, p. 624). 

40 insidious] insulting M. P. 45 penury] poverty M. P., An. Anth. 

47 Hail'd the low Chapel M. P., An. Anth. 51 Whence] Where An.^ 

Anth., S. L. 1828, 1829. 56 caterpillar] Eeptile M.P., An. Anth. 60 each] 
and M.P. 72 you] thee M. P. 73 joxxr] thy M. P. 


Thenceforth your soul rejoiced to see 

The shrine of social Lil>erty ! 

))eautiful ! Nature's child ! 

'Twas thence you hailed the Platform wild. 

Where once the Austrian fell 8o 

Beneath the shaft of Tell ! 
Lady, nursed in pomp and pleasure ! 
Thence learn'd you that heroic measure. 


The shepherds went their hasty way, 

And found the lowly stable-shed 
Where the Virgin-Mother lay: 

And now they checked their eager tread, 
For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung, 
A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung. 

They told her how a glorious light, 

Streaming from a heavenly throng, 
Around them shone, suspending night I 

While sweeter than a mother's song, lo 

Blest Angels heralded the Saviour's birth. 
Glory to God on high ! and Peace on Earth. 


She listened to the tale divine, 

And closer still the Babe she pressed ; 
And while she cried, the Babe is mine! 15 

The milk rushed faster to her breast : 
Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn ; 
Peace, Peace on Earth ! the Pnnce of Peace is born. 

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

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

A Christynas Carol— 8 a] an M. P., An. Anth. 10 While] And M. P. 



Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace, 

Poor, simple, and of low estate ! 
That strife should vanish, battle cease, 
O why should this thy soul elate? 

Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story, 

Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory? 

And is not War a youthful king, 25 

A stately Hero clad in mail? 
Beneath his footsteps laurels spring ; 
Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail 
Their friend, their playmate ! and his bold bright eye 
Compels the maiden's love- confessing sigh. 30 


'Tell this in some more courtly scene, 

To maids and youths in robes of state ! 
I am a woman poor and mean, 
And therefore is my soul elate. 
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, 35 

That from the aged father tears his child ! 


*A murderous fiend, by fiends adored, 

He kills the sire and starves the son ; 
The husband kills, and from her board 

Steals all his widow's toil had won ; 40 

Plunders God's world of beauty ; rends away 
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day. 

* Then wisely is my soul elate. 

That strife should vanish, battle cease : 

35 War is a ruffian Thief, with goro defil'd M.P., An.Anth. 37 fiend] 

Thief M. P., An. Anth. 41 rends] tears M. P. 



I'm poor and of a low estate, 45 

The Mother of the Prince of Peace. 
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn : 
Peace, Peace on Earth ! the Prince of Peace is horn.' 



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

To the Editor of The Morning Post. 

Mr. Editor, — An unmetrical letter from Talleyrand to Lord Grenville 
has already appeared, and from an authority too high to be questioned : 
otherwise I could adduce some arguments for the exclusive authenticity 
of the following metrical epistle. The very epithet which the wise 
ancients used, ^ aurea carynina,^ might have been supposed likely to have 
determined the choice of the French minister in favour of verse ; and 
the rather when we recollect that this phrase of ^golden tieises ' is fipplied 
emphatically to the works of that philosopher who imposed silence on all 
with whom he had to deal. Besides is it not somewhat improbable that 
Talleyrand should have preferred prose to rhyme, when the latter alone 
has got the chink ? Is it not likewise curious that in our official answer no 
notice whatever is taken of the Chief Consul, Bonaparte, as if there had been 
no such person [man Essays, <&c., ISSOl existing ; notwithstanding that his 
existence is pretty generally admitted, nay that some have been so rash 
as to believe that he has created as great a sensation in the world as Lord 
Grenville, or even the Duke of Portland ? But the Minister of Foreign 
Affairs, Talleyrand, is acknowledged, which, in our opinion, could not 
have happened had he written only that insignificant prose-letter, which 
seems to precede Bonaparte's, as in old romances a dwarf always ran 
before to proclaim the advent or arrival of knight or giant. That Talley- 
rand's character and practices more resemble those of some regular 

^ First published in tlie Morning Post, January 10, 1800 : reprinted in 
Essays on His Own Times, 1850, i. 233-7. First collected P. ayid D. W., 1877, 

After 49 Strange prophecy ! Could half the screams 
Of half the men that since have died 
To realise War's kingly dreams, 

Have risen at once in one vast tide, 
The choral music of Heav'n's multitude 
Had been o'erpower'd, and lost amid the uproar rude ! 

M. P., An. Anth. 


Governments than Bonaparte's I admit ; but this of itself does not 
appear a satisfactory explanation. However, let the letter speak for 
itself. The second line is supererogative in syllables, whether from the 
oscitancy of the transcriber, or from the trepidation which might have 
overpowered the modest Frenchman, on finding himself in the act of 
writing to so great a man, I shall not dare to determine. A few Notes 
are added by 

Your servant, 

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

' Saxa, et robora, corneasque fibras 

MoUit dulciloqua canorus arte 


My Lord ! though your Lordship repel deviation 

From forms long established, yet with high consideration, 

I plead for the honour to hope that no blame 

Will attach, should this letter hegin with my name. 

I dar'd not presume on your Lordship) to bounce, 5 

But thought it more exquisite first to announce ! 

My Lord ! I've the honour to be Talleyrand, 

And the letter 's from me ! you'll not draw back your hand 

Nor yet take it up by the rim in dismay. 

As boys pick up ha'pence on April fool-day. lo 

I'm no Jacobin foul, or red-hot Cordelier 

That your Lordship's ^iwgauntleted fingers need fear 

An infection or burn ! Believe me, 'tis true. 

With a scorn like another I look down on the crew 

That bawl and hold up to the mob's detestation 15 

The most delicate wish for a silent persuasion. 

A form long-establish' d these Terrorists call 

Bribes, perjury, theft, and the devil and all ! 

And yet spite of all that the Moralist ^ prates, 

'Tis the keystone and cement of civilised States. 20 

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

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


Those American licjis ! ' And i' faith, they were serious ! 
It shock'd us at Paris, like something mysterious, 
That men who've a Congress — But no more of 't ! I'm ])roud 
To have stood so distinct from the Jacobin ciowd. 

My Lord ! though the vulgar in wonder be lost at 25 

My transfigurations, and name me Apostate, 
Such a meaningless nickname, which never incens'd me, 
Cannot prejudice you or your Cousin against me : 
I'm Ex-bishop. What then? Burke himself would agree 
That I left not the Church— 'twas the Church that left me. 
My titles prelatic I lov'd and retain'd, 31 

As long as what I meant by Prelate remain'd : 
And tho' Mitres no longer will pass in our mart, 
I'm episcopal still to the core of my heart. 
No time from my name this m}^ motto shall sever : 35 

'Twill be Noyi sine indvere x)alma ^ for ever ! 

Your goodness, my Lord, I conceive as excessive, 
Or I dar'd not present you a scroll so digressive ; 
And in truth with my pen thro' and thro' I should strike it ; 
But I hear that your Lordship's own style is just like it. 40 
Dear my Lord, we are right : for what charms can be shew'd 
In a thing that goes straight like an old Roman road? 
The tortoise crawls straight, the hare doubles about ; 
And the true line of beauty still winds in and out. 
It argues, my Lord ! of fine thoughts such a brood in us 45 
To split and divide into heads multitudinous. 
While charms that surprise (it can ne'er be denied us) 
Sprout forth from each head, like the ears from King Midas. 
Were a genius of rank, like a commonplace dunce, 
Compell'd to drive on to the main point at once, 50 

What a plentiful vintage of initiations^ 

^ A fashionable abbroviation in the higher circles for Republicans. 
Thus Moh was originally the Mobility. 

2 Pahna non sme pidvere In plain English; an itching palm, not without 
the yellow dust. 

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


Would Noble Lords lose in your Lordship's orations. 
My fancy transports me ! As mute as a mouse, 
And as fleet as a pigeon, I'm borne to the house 
Where all those who are Lords, from father to son, 55 

Discuss the affairs of ail those who are none. 
I behold you, my Lord ! of your feelings quite full, 
'Fore the woolsack arise, like a sack full of wool I 
You rise on each Anti-Grenvillian Member, 
Short, thick and blustrous, like a day in November ! ^ 60 
Short in person, I mean : for the length of your speeches 
Fame herself, that most famous reporter, ne'er reaches. 
Lo ! Patience beholds you contemn her brief reign, 
And Time, that all-panting toil'd after in vain, 
(Like the Beldam who raced for a smock with her grand- 
child) 65 
Drops and cries : ' Were such lungs e'er assign'd to a man- 
child ? ' 
Your strokes at her vitals pale Truth has confess'd, 
And Zeal unresisted entempests your breast ! ^ 
Though some noble Lords may be wishing to sup, 
Your merit self-conscious, my Lord, keeps you up, 70 
Unextinguish'd and swoln, as a balloon of paper 
Keeps aloft by the smoke of its own farthing taper. 
Ye siXTEENS ^ of Scotland, your snuffs ye must trim ; 
Your Geminies, fix'd stars of England ! grow dim, 

^ We cannot sufficiently admire the accuracy of this simile. For as 
Lord Grenville, though short, is certainly not the shortest man in the 
House, even so is it with the days in November. 
^ An evident plagiarism of the Ex-Bishop's from Dr. Johnson: — 
' Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, 
And panting Time toil'd after him in vain : 
His powerful strokes presiding Truth confess'd, 
And unresisting Passion storm'd the breast.' 
' This line and the following are involved in an almost Lycophrontic 
tenebricosity. On repeating them, however, to an Illuminant, whose con- 
fidence I possess, he informed me (and he ought to know, for he is a 
Tallow-chandler by trade) that certain candles go by the name oisixteens. 
This explains the whole, the Scotch Peers are destined to burn out— and 
so are candles ! The English are perpetual, and are therefore styled Fixed 
Stars ! The word Geminies is, we confess, still obscure to us ; though we 
venture to suggest that it may perhaps be a metaphor (daringly sublime) 
for the two eyes which noble Lords do in general possess. It is certainly 
used by the poet Fletcher in this sense, in the 31st stanza of his Purple 

Island : — 

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


And l)iit for (( fonn long-cstaUislCd, no doubt 75 

Twinkling faster and faster, ye all would r/o out. 

Apropos, my dear Lord I a ridiculous Id under 

Of some of our Journalists caused us some wonder : 

It was said that in aspect malignant and sinister 

In the Isle of Great Britain a great Foreign Minister 80 

Turn'd as pale as a journeyman miller's frock coat is 

On observing a star that appear'd in Bootes ! 

When the whole truth was this (0 those ignoiant brutes I) 

Your Lordship had made his appearance in boots. 

You, my Lord, with your star, sat in boots, and the Spanish 

Ambassador thereupon thought fit to vanish. 86 

But perhaps, dear my Lord, among other worse crimes, 
The whole was no more than a lie of The Times. 
It is monstrous, my Lord ! in a civilis'd state 
That such Newspaper rogues should have license to prate. 90 
Indeed printing in general — but for the taxes, 
Is in theory false and pernicious in praxis ! 
Y"ou and I, and your Cousin, and Abbo Sieyes, 
And all the great Statesmen that live in these days. 
Are agreed that no nation secure is from vi'lence 95 

Unless all who must think are maintain'd all in silence. 
This printing, my Lord — but 'tis useless to mention 
What we both of us think— 'twas a cursed invention, 
And Germany might have been honestly prouder 
Had she left it alone, and found out only powder. 100 

My Lord ! when I think of our labours and cares 
Who rule the Department of foreign affairs, 
And how with their libels these journalists bore us, 
Though Rage I acknowledge than Scorn less decorous ; 
Yet their presses and types I could shiver in splinters, 105 
Those Printers' black Devils ! those Devils of Printers ! 
In case of a peace — but perhaps it were better 
To proceed to the absolute point of my letter : 
For the deep wounds of France, Bonaparte, my master. 
Has found out a new sort of hasilicon plaister. no 

But your time, my dear Lord ! is your nation's best treasure, 
I've intruded already too long on your leisure ; 
If so, I entreat you with penitent sorrow 
To pause, and resume the remainder to-morrow. 



The poet in his lone yet genial hour 

Gives to his eyes a magnifying power: 

Or rather he emancipates his eyes 

From the black shapeless accidents of size — 

In unctuous cones of kindling coal, 

Or smoke upwreathing from the pipe's trim bole, 

His gifted ken can see 

Phantoms of sublimity. 



The tedded hay, the first fruits of the soil. 

The tedded hay and corn-sheaves in one field, 

Show summer gone, ere come. The foxglove tall 

Sheds its loose purple bells, or in the gust. 

Or when it bends beneath the up-springing lark, 5 

Or mountain -finch alighting. And the rose 

(In vain the darling of successful love) 

Stands, like some boasted beauty of past years. 

The thorns remaining, and the flowers all gone. 

Nor can I find, amid my lonely walk 10 

By rivulet, or spring, or wet roadside. 

That blue and bright-eyed floweret of the brook, 

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

2 First published in the Morning Post, September 17, 1802 (signed, 
E2TH2E) : included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834. ' It had been 
composed two years before ' (1802), Note, 1893, p. 624. Mr. Campbell may 
have seen a dated MS. Internal evidence would point to the autumn of 
1802, when it was published in the Morning Post. 

Apologia, &c.— Title] The Poet's ken P. W., 1885 : Apologia, &c. 1907. 
1-4 The poet's eye in his tipsy hour 

Hath a magnifying power 
Or rather emancipates his eyes 
Of the accidents of size MS. 
5 cones] cone MS. 6 Or smoke from his pipe's bole MS. 7 His 

eye can see MS. 

The Keepsake— I om. M. P. 2 one] one M. P. 12 Line 13 precedes 

line 12 M. P. 


Holme's gentle gem, the sweot Forget-iue-iiot I ' 

So >vill not fade the flowers which Emmeline 

With deliciito lingers on the ynow-wliite silk 15 

Has worked (the flowers which most she knew I loved), 

And, more beloved than they, her auburn hair. 

In the cool morning twilight, early waked 
By her full l)osom's joyous restlessness. 
Softly she rose, and lightly stole along, 20 

Down the slope coppice to the woodbine bower, 
Whose rich flowers, swinging in the morning breeze, 
Over their dim fast-moving shadows hung, 
Making a quiet image of disquiet 

In the smooth, scarcely moving river-pool. 25 

There, in that bower where first she owned her love. 
And let me kiss my own warm tear of joy 
From off" her glowing cheek, she sate and stretched 
The silk upon the frame, and worked her name 
Between the Moss-Eose and Forget-me-not — 30 

Her own dear name, with her own auburn hair ! 
That forced to wander till sweet spring return, 
I yet might ne'er forget her smile, her look, 
Her voice, (that even in her mirthful mood 
Has made me wish to steal aAvay and weep,) 35 

Nor yet the entrancement of that maiden kiss 
With which she promised, that when spring returned, 
She would resign one half of that dear name. 
And own thenceforth no other name but mine I 

V I8UO. 

^ One of the names (and meriting to be the only one) of the Myoaotit, 
IScwpioides Palustris, a flower from six to twelve inches high, with blue 
blossom and bright yellow eye. It has the same name over tbe whole 
Empire of Germany {VergissmeinnicJit) and, we believe, in Denmark and 

17 they] all M.P. 19 joyous] joyless S. L. 1828. 

19-21 joyous restlessness, 

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

Btlxceen 19-20 Leaving the soft bed to her sleeping sister S. L. 1817. 

25 scarcely moving] scarcely-tlowing M.P. 39 thenceforth] hence- 

forth M.P. 



On stern Blencartha's perilous height 

The winds are tyrannous and strong ; 
And flashing forth unsteady Hght 
From stern Blencartha's skiey heiglit, 

As loud the torrents throng ! 5 

Beneath the moon, in gentle weather, 
They bind the earth and sky together. 
But oh ! the sky and all its forms, how quiet ! 
The things that seek the earth, how full of noise and riot ! 


I HEARD a voice from Etna's side ; 

Where o'er a cavern's mouth 

That fronted to the south 
A chesnut spread its umbrage wide : 

^ First published in the Amulet, 1833, reprinted in Friendship's Offering, 
1834 : included in Essaijs on His Own Times, 1850, iii. 997. First collected 
in P. a7id D. W., 1877-80. These lines are inserted in one of the Malta 
Notebooks, and appear from the context to have been written at Olevano 
in 1806 ; but it is almost certain that they belong to the autumn of 1800 
when Coleridge made a first acquaintance of 'Blencathara's rugged coves '. 
The first line is an adaptation of a line in a poem of Isaac Ritson, quoted 
in Hutchinson's History of Cumber-land, a work which supplied him with 
some of the place-names in the Second Part of Christcibel. Compare, too, 
a sentence in a letter to Sir H. Davy of Oct. 18, 1800:— 'At the bottom 
of the Carrook Man . . . the wind became so fearful and tyrannous, etc' 

' First published in the Morning Post, October 13, 1800 (signed Cassiani 
junior): reprinted in Wild Wreath (By M. E. Robinson^, 1801, pp. 141-4. 
First collected in P. W., 1880 (ii. Supplement, p. 362). 

A Thought Suggested, &c.— Title] A Versified Reflection F. 0. 18S4. In 
F. 0. 1834, the lines were prefaced by a note : — [A Force is the provincial 
term in Cumberland for any narrow fall of water from the summit of a 
mountain precipice. The following stanza (it may not arrogate the name 
of poem) or versified reflection was composed while the author was 
gazing on tliree parallel Forces on a moonlight night, at the foot of the 

Saddleback Fell. S. T. C] A by the view of Saddleback, near 

Threlkeld in Cumberland, Essays, dc. 

I Blencartha's] Blenkarthur's MS. : Blencarthur'.s F. 0. : Blenharthur's 
Essays, dx., 1850. 2 The wind is F. 0. 4 Blencartha's] Blenkarthur's 
MS. : Blencarthur's F. 0.: Blenharthur's Essays, &c., 1850. 8 oh !] ah ! 

Essays, ctr. 

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


A liormit or a monk the man might l>o ; 5 

But him I could not see : 
And thus the music flow'd along, 
In melody most like to old Sicilian song: 

' There was a time when earth, and sea, and skies, 

The bright green vale, and forest's dark recess, lo 

With all things, lay before mine eyes 

In steady loveliness : 
But now I feel, on earth's uneasy scene, 

Such sorrows as will never cease ; — 

I only ask for peace ; 15 

If I must live to know that such a time has been ! ' 
A silence then ensued : 

Till from the cavern came 
A voice ; — it was the same ! 
And thus, in mournful tone, its dreary plaint renew'd : 20 

* Last night, as o'er the sloping turf I trod. 
The smooth green turf, to me a vision gave 

Beneath mine eyes, the sod — 
The roof of Kosa's grave I 

My heart has need with dreams like these to strive, 25 

For, when I woke, beneath mine eyes I found 

The plot of mossy ground, 
On which we oft have sat when Kosa was alive. — 
Why must the rock, and margin of the flood. 

Why must the hills so many flow'rets bear, 30 

Whose colours to a miirdefd maiden's blood, 

Such sad resemblance wear? — 

' I struck the wound, — this hand of mine ! 
For Oh, thou maid divine, 

I lov'd to agony ! 35 

The youth whom thou call'd'st thine 

Did never love like me ! 

' Is it the stormy clouds above 
That flash'd so red a gleam ? 

8 to] an ilf. P. 14 sorrows] motions 3/. P. 16 Then wherelbre 

must I know M. P. 23 I saw the sod M. P. 26 woke] wak'd M. P. 

27 The] That M. P. 28 On which so oft we sat M. P. 31a wounded 
woman's blood M. P. 

38-9 It is the stormy clouds above 

That flash M. P. 


On yonder downward trickling stream? — 40 

'Tis not the blood of her I love. — 
The sun torments me from his western bed, 

Oh, let him cease for ever to diffuse 

Those crimson spectre hues ! 
Oh, let me lie in peace, and be for ever dead ! ' 45 

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



Thou who in youthful vigour rich, and light 

With youthful thoughts dost need no rest ! thou. 

To whom alike the valley and the hill 

Present a path of ease ! Should e'er thine eye 

Glance on this sod, and this rude tablet, stop ! 5 

'Tis a rude spot, yet here, with thankful hearts, 

The foot- worn soldier and his family 

Have rested, wife and babe, and boy, perchance 

Some eight years old or less, and scantly fed, 

Garbed like his father, and already bound 10 

To his poor father's trade. Or think of him 

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

After 47 The twilight fays came forth in dewy shoon 

Ere I within the Cabin had withdraAvn 
The goatherd's tent upon the open lawn — 
That night there was no moon. M. P. 


Who, laden with his implements of toil. 
Returns at night to some far tlistant home, 
And having plodded on through rain and mire 
With limbs o'erlaboured, weak from feverish heat, 15 

And chafed and fretted by December blasts, 
Here pauses, thankful he hath reached so far, 
And 'mid the sheltering warmth of these bleak trees 
Finds restoration — or reflect on those 

Who in the spring to meet the warmer sun 30 

Crawl up this steep hill-side, that needlessly 
Bends double their weak frames, already bowed 
By age or malady, and when, at last. 
They gain this wished-for turf, this seat of sods, 
Eepose — and. well-admonished, ponder here 25 

On final rest. And if a serious thought 
Should come uncalled— how soon thif motions high. 
Thy balmy spirits and thy fervid blood 
Must change to feeble, w^ithered, cold and dry. 
Cherish the wholesome sadness ! And where'er 30 

The tide of Life impel thee, be prompt 
To make thy present strength the staff of all, 
Their staff and resting-place — so shalt thou give 
To Youth the sweetest joy that Youth can know ; 
And for thy future self thou shalt provide 35 

Through every change of various life, a seat. 
Not built by hands, on which thy inner part, 
Imperishable, many a grievous hour. 
Or bleak or sultry may repose — yea, sleep 
The sleep of Death, and dream of blissful worlds, 40 

Then wake in Heaven, and find the dream all true. 



As late on Skiddaw's mount I lay supine, 
Midway th" ascent, in that repose divine 

^ First published in Memoirs 0/ the late Mrs. Eohinson, Written by herself. 
With some Posthumous Pieces, 1801, iv. 141 : reprinted in Poetical Works 
of the late Mrs. Mary Robinson, 180G, i. xlviii, li. First collected in P. W., 

I Skiddaw's] Skiddaw 1801. 


When the soul centred in the heart's recess 

Hath qu/iff' (1 its fill of Nature's loveliness, 

Yet still beside the fountain's marge will stay 5 

And fain would thirst again, again to quaff; 
Then when the tear, slow travelling on its way, 

Fills up the wrinkles of a silent laugh — 
In that sweet mood of sad and humorous thought 
A form within me rose, within me wrought 10 

With such strong magic, that I cried aloud, 
* Thou ancient Skiddaw by thy helm of cloud. 
And by thy many-colour'd chasms deep, 
And by their shadows that for ever sleep. 
By yon small flaky mists that love to creep 15 

Along the edges of those spots of light, 
Those sunny islands on thy smooth green height, 

And by yon shepherds with their sheep, 

And dogs and boys, a gladsome crowd. 

That rush e'en now with clamour loud ao 

Sudden from forth thy topmost cloud, 

And by this laugh, and by this tear, 

I would, old Skiddaw, she were here ! 

A lady of sweet song is she, 

Her soft blue eye was made for thee ! 35 

ancient Skiddaw. by this tear, 

1 would, I would that she were here!' 

Then ancient Skiddaw, stern and proud. 

In sullen majesty replying, 
Thus spake from out his helm of cloud 30 

(His voice was like an echo dying !) : — 
'She dwells belike in scenes more fair, 
And scorns a mount so bleak and bare.' 

I only sigh'd when this I heard. 

Such mournful thoughts within me stirr'd 35 

That all my heart was faint and weak, 

So sorely was I troubled ! 
No laughter wrinkled on my cheek, 

But O the tears were doubled ! 
But ancient Skiddaw green and high 40 

Heard and understood my sigh ; 

8 wrinkles] wrinkle iSOZ. 13 chasms so deep iSOi. 17 sunny] 

sunshine 1801. 32 in] by 1801. 38 on] now 1801. 


And now, in tones less stern and rude, 

As if he wish'd to end the feud, 

Spuke he, the proud response renewing 

(His voice was like a monarch wooing) : — 45 

' Nay, but thou dost not know her might, 

The pinions of her soul how strong ! 
But many a stranger in my height 
Hath sung to me her magic song. 

Sending forth his ecstasy 50 

In her divinest melody, 
And hence I know her soul is free, 
She is where'er she wills to be, 
Unfetter'd by mortality ! 
Now to the ''haunted beach" can fly,' 55 

Beside the threshold scourged with waves, 
Now where the maniac wildly raves, 
'^Pale moon, thou spectre of the sky ! " - 
No wind that hurries o'er my height 
Can travel with so swift a flight. 60 

I too, methinks, might merit 
The presence of her spirit ! 
To me too might belong 
The honour of her song and witching melody. 
Which most resembles me, 65 

Soft, various, and sublime. 
Exempt from wrongs of Time ! ' 

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

I would, I would that she were here ! ' 

November, 1800. 

* * The Haunted Beach,' by Mrs. Robinson, was included in the Annual 
Ayithology for 1800. 

2 From ' Jasper ', a ballad by Mrs. Robinson, included in the Aymual 
Anthology for 1800. 

57 Now to the maniac while ho raves 1801. 



How sweet, when crimson colours dart 

Across a breast of snow, 
To see that you are in the heart 

That beats and throbs below. 

All Heaven is in a maiden's blush. 
In which the soul doth speak, 

That it was you who sent the flush 
Into the maiden's cheek. 

Large steadfast eyes ! eyes gently rolled 

In shades of changing blue. 
How sweet are they, if they behold 

No dearer sight than you. 

And, can a lip more richly glow, 

Or be more fair than this? 
The world will surely answer. No ! 

I, Sappho, answer, Yes ! 

Then grant one smile, tho' it should mean 

A thing of doubtful birth ; 
That I may say these eyes have seen 

The fairest face on earth I 



The Devil believes that the Lord will come. 
Stealing a march without beat of drum, 

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

^ First published in the Morning Post, December 4, 1800 : reprinted in 
Fraser^s Magazine both in February and in May, 1833, and in Payne 
Collier's Old Man's Diary, i. 35. First collected in P. W., 1834, with the 

Two Round Spaces, &c. — Title] Skeltoniad (To be read in the Recitative 
Lilt) MS. Letter : The Two Round Spaces ; A Skeltoniad M. P. 
I The Devil believes the Fraser {1). 


About the same time that ho came last, 

On an Old Christmas-day in a snowy blast : 

Till he bids the trump sound neither body nor soul stirs, 5 

For the dead men's heads have slipt under their bolsters. 

Oh I ho ! brother Bard, in our churchyard, 

Both Ijeds and bolsters are soft and green ; 

Save one alone, and that *s of stone, 

And under it lies a Counsellor keen. 10 

'Twould be a square tomb, if it were not too long ; 
And 'tis fenced round with irons sharp, spear-like, and strong. 

This fellow from Aberdeen hither did skip 
With a waxy face and a blubber lip, 

following Prefatory Note : — 'Sec the apology for the "Fire, Famine, and 
Slaughter", in first volume. This is the first time the author ever 
published these lines. He would have been glad, had they perished ; but 
they have now been printed repeatedly in magazines, and he is told that 
the verses \vill not perish. Here, therefore, they are owned, with a hope 
that they will be taken — as assuredly they were composed — in mere sport.' 
These lines, which were directed against Sir James Mackintosh, were 
included in a letter to [Sir] Humphry Davy, dated October 9, 1800. 
There is a MS. version in the British Museum in the handwriting of 
R. Heber, presented by him to J. Mitford. Mr. Campbell questions the 
accuracy of Coleridge's statement with regard to his never having pub- 
lished the poem on his own account. But it is possible that Davy may 
have sent the lines to the Press without Coleridge's authority. Daniel 
Stuart, the Editor of the Morning Post, in the Gentleynan's Magazine for May, 
18'68, says that ' Coleridge sent one [poem] attacking Mackintosh, too 
obviously for me not to understand it, and of course it was not published. 
Mackintosh had had one of his front teeth broken and the stump was 
black '. Stuart remembered that the lines attacking his brother-in-law 
had been suppressed, but forgot that he had inserted the rest of the poem. 
The poem as printed in 1893, despite the heading, does not follow the 
text of the Morning Post. 

3 time] hour MS. Letter, M.P., Fraser (J), Collier. At the same hour 
MS. H. 4 an Old] a cold Fraser (1) : On Old MS. H. 5 neither] 

nor MS. Letter, M. P. Till he bids the trump blow nor Fraser (2) : Till the 
trump then shall sound no Collier : Until that time not a body or MS. H. 
6 their] the Collier. 7 Oh! ho!] Ho! Ho! M.P.,MS.H.: Oho Fraser {1). 

Brother CoWjer. our] our MS. Letter. 8 Both bed and bolster Fraser (2). 

The graves and bolsters MS. H. 9 Except one alone MS. H. 10 under] 
in Fraser [2). 1 1 This tomb would be square M. P. : 'Twould be a square 
stone if it were not so long Fraser (1). It would be square MS. H. tomb] 
grave Collier. 12 And 'tis railed round with iron tall M. P. : And 'tis edg'd 
round with iron Fraser (1) : 'Tis fenc'd round with irons tall Fraser (2) : And 
'tis fenc'd round with iron tall Collier. 'tis] its MS. H. 13-20 om. 

M. P. 13 From Aberdeen hither this fellow MS. Letter. hither] 

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


And a black tooth in front, to show in part 15 

What was the colour of his whole heart. 
This Counsellor sweet, 
This Scotchman complete, 
(The Devil scotch him for a snake !) 
I trust he lies in his grave awake. 20 

On the sixth of January, 
When all around is white with snow, 
As a Cheshire yeoman's dairy, 

Brother Bard, ho ! ho ! believe it, or no. 
On that stone tomb to you I'll show 25 

Two round spaces void of snow. 
I swear by our Knight, and his forefathers' souls, 
That in size and shape they are just like the holes 
In the house of privity 

Of that ancient family. 30 

On those two places void of snow. 
There have sat in the night for an hour or so, 
Before sunrise, and after cock-crow. 
He kicking his heels, she cursing her corns. 
All to the tune of the wind in their horns, 35 

The Devil and his Grannam, 
With a snow-blast to fan 'em ; 
Expecting and hoping the trumpet to blow, 
For they are cock-sure of the fellow below ! 
15 in front] before MS. H. 17 Counsellor] lawyer so IfS. if. 19 The 
Devil] Apolljon MS. Letter. scotch] scotch Collier. 20 trust] hope CoWzer. 

{A huvasLue wish) Note in MS. Letter. 21 sixth] seventh ilf. P., CoWier : fifth 
MS. H. 22 When all is white both high and low MS. Letter, M. P., Eraser (2), 
Collier, MS. H. : When the ground All around Is as white as snow Fraser (i). 
23 As] Or Fraser (1) : Like MS. H. 24 ho ! ho !] oho ! Fraser {1). it] me 
M. P. 25 stone] tall MS. Letter, M. P., Fraser (2), Collier. On the stone to 
you MS. H. 25-6 om. Fraser (i). Beiiceen 25-6 After sunset and before 
cockcrow M. P. Before sunrise and after cockcrow Fraser (2). 26 void] 
clear M. P. 27 I swear by the might Of the darkness of night, I swear by 
the sleep of our forefathers' souls Fraser (1). souls] soul MS. H. 26-8 

om. Fraser (2). 28 Both in shape and sizelfS. Letter : Both in shape and in 
size M. P.: That in shape and size they resembled Fraser (J), Collier: That in 
shape and size they are just like the Hole IfS.H. 29 In the large houseilf.P. 
29-30 In mansions not seen by the general eye 

Of that right ancient family. Fraser (i). 
31 two] ronnd MS. Letter, places] spaces CoZ^zVr, ilfS. H. void] clear If. P. 
32 Have sat Fraser (i), {2) : There have sat for an hour MS. H. 33 om. MS. 
Letter, M.P. 36 Devil] De'il M. P. 37 With the snow-drift M. P. : With 
a snow-blast to fan MS. Letter. 38 Expecting and wishing the trumpet 

would blow Collier. 




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


Her eye with tearful meanings fraught, 

She gaz'd till all the body mov'd lo 

Interpreting the Spirit's thought — 

The Spirit's eager sympathy 

* First published in P. W., 1893. The two last stanzas [*] were omitted 
as 'too imperfect to print '. The MS. bears the following heading : Lines 


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

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

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


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


Now trembled with thy trembling stem, 
And while thou droopedst o'er thy bed, 
With sweet unconscious sympathy 15 

Inclin'd the drooping head/ 


She droop'd her head, she stretch'd her arm, 
She whisper'd low her witching rhymes. 
Fame unreluctant heard the charm. 
And bore thee to Pierian climes ! 30 

Fear thou no more the Matin Frost 
That sparkled on thy bed of snow ; 
For there, mid laurels ever green. 
Immortal thou shalt blow. 

Thy petals boast a white more soft, 25 

The spell hath so perfumed thee, c 

That careless Love shall deem thee oft 
A blossom from his Myrtle tree. 
Then, laughing at the fair deceit. 
Shall race with some Etesian wind 30 

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

All weak and wan, with head inclin'd, 

Its parent-breast the drifted snow. 
It trembles, while the ruthless wind 
Bends its slim form ; the tempest lowers. 
Its em'rald eye drops crystal show'rs 

On its cold bed below. 
The Poetical Works of the late Mrs. Mary Eobmson, 1806, i. 123. 

3 [Stanza 2] 
With eager feelings unreprov'd 
With steady e ye and brooding - thought 
Her eye with tearful meanings fraught, 
My Fancy oaw her gazo at tlK n c 
She gaz'd till all the body mov'd 
¥ ill all the moving body caught, 
Interpreting, the Spirit's sympathy — 
The Spirit's eager sympathy 
Now trembled with thy trembling stem, 
And while thou drooped'st o'er thy bed, 
With sweet unconscious sympathy 
Inclin'd J her portraiture 

the drooping head. 

First draft of Stanzas 1-3. MS. S. T. C. 


To seek the woven arboret 

Where Laura lies reclin'd. 

All tliem whom Love and Fancy grace, 
When grosser eyes are clos'd in sleep, 
The gentle spirits of the place 35 

Waft up the insuperable steep, 
On \vhose vast summit broad and smooth 
Her nest the Phoenix Bird conceals, 
And where by cypresses o'erhung 

The heavenly Lethe steals. 40 

A sea -like sound the branches breathe, 
Stirr'd by the Breeze that loiters there ; 
And all that stretch their limbs beneath, 
Forget the coil of mortal care. 
Strange mists along the margins rise, 45 

To heal the guests who thither come. 
And fit the soul to re-endure 

Its earthly martyrdom. 


The margin dear to moonlight elves 
Where Zephyr-trembling Lilies grow, 50 

And bend to kiss their softer selves 
That tremble in the stream below: — 
There nightly borne does Laura lie 
A magic Slumber heaves her breast : 
Her arm, white wanderer of the Harp, 55 

Beneath her cheek is prest. 
The Harp uphung by golden chains 
Of that low wind which whispers round. 
With coy reproachfulness complains. 
In snatches of reluctant sound : 60 

The music hovers half-perceiv'd. 
And only moulds the slumberer's dreams ; 
Remember'd Loves relume her cheek 

With Youth's returning gleams. 


36 insuperable] unvoyageable MS. erased. 
53-4 Along that marge does Laura lie 

Full oft where Slumber heaves her breast MS. erased. 
64 With Beauty's morning gleams MS. erased. 




God be with thee, gladsome Ocean ! 

How gladly greet I thee once more ! 
Ships and waves, and ceaseless motion, 

And men rejoicing on thy shore. 

Dissuading spake the mild Physician, 5 

' Those briny waves for thee are Death ! ' 

But my soul fulfilled her mission, 

And lo ! I breathe untroubled breath ! 

Fashion's pining sons and daughters, 

That seek the crowd they seem to fl}^, lo 

Trembling they approach thy waters ; 
And what cares Nature, if they die? 

Me a thousand hopes and pleasures, 

A thousand recollections bland. 
Thoughts sublime, and stately measures, 15 

Revisit on thy echoing strand : 

Dreams (the Soul herself forsaking), 

Tearful raptures, boyish mirth ; 
Silent adorations, making 

A blessed shadow of this Earth ! 20 

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

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

3 ceaseless] endless MS. Letter, M. P., MS. A. 4 men] life MS. Letter, 

j mild MS. A. 
M. P., MS. A. 5 Gravely said the \ sage Physician MS. Letter : Mildly said 
the mild Physician M. P. 6 To bathe me on thy shoi-es were death MS. 

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

MS. A. 13 hopes] loves MS. Letter, MS. A 16 echoing] sounding 

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

MS. A. 


O ye hopes, that stir within me, 

Ileiilth comes with you from above ! 

God is with me, God is in me ! 
I cunnot die, if Life be Love. 
August, 1801. 


Tranquillity ! thou better name 

Than all the family of Fame ! 

Thou ne'er wilt leave my riper age 

To low intrigue, or factious rage ; 

For oh ! dear child of thoughtful Truth, 5 

To thee I gave my early youth, 
And left the bark, and blest the steadfast shore, 
Ere yet the tempest rose and scared me with its roar. 

Who late and lingering seeks thy shrine, 

On him but seldom. Power divine, 10 

Thy spirit rests ! Satiety 

And Sloth, poor counterfeits of thee, 

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

Ode to Tranquillity— Title'] Vix ea nostra voce M. P. 
Before i 

What Statesmen scheme and Soldiers work. 

Whether the Pontiff or the Turk, 

Will e'er renew th' expiring lease 

Of Empire ; whether War or Peace 

Will best play off the Consul's game ; 

What fancy-figures, and what name 

Half-thinking, sensual France, a natural Slave, 

On those ne'er-broken Chains, her self-forg'd Chains, will grave ; 

Disturb not me ! Some tears I shed 
When bow'd the Swiss his noble head ; 
Since then, with quiet heart have view'd 
Both distant Fights and Treaties crude, 
Whose heap'd up terms, whicli Fear compels, 
(Live Discord's green Combustibles, 
And future Fuel of the funeral Pyre) 

Now liide, and soon, alas ! will feed the low-burnt Fire. M. P. 
8 tempest] storm-wind M. P. 


Mock the tired worldling. Idle Hope 

And dire Remenibrance interlope, 
To vex the feverish slumbers of the mind : 15 

The bubble floats before, the spectre stalks behind. 

But me thy gentle hand will lead 
At morning through the accustomed mead ; 
And in the sultry summer's heat 
Will build me up a mossy seat ; ao 

And when the gust of Autumn crowds, 
And breaks the busy moonlight clouds, 
Thou best the thought canst raise, the heart attune. 
Light as the busy clouds, calm as the gliding moon. 

The feeling heart, the searching soul, 25 

To thee I dedicate the whole ! 

And while within myself I trace 

The greatness of some future race, 

Aloof with hermit-eye I scan 

The present works of present man — 30 

A wild and dream-like trade of blood and guile, 
Too foolish for a tear, too wicked for a smile ! 


Are there two things, of all which men possess 

That are so like each other and so near, 

As mutual Love seems like to Happiness? 

Dear Asra, woman beyond utterance dear ! 

This Love which ever welling at my heart, 5 

Now in its living fount doth heave and fall, 

Now overflowing pours thro' every part 

Of all my frame, and fills and changes all, 

Like vernal waters sj^ringing up through snow, 

^ First published in 1893. The Sonnet to 'Asra' was prefixed to the 
MS. of Ckristahd which Coleridge presented to Miss Sarah Hutchinson in 

15 To] And The Friend, 1809. slumbers] slumber i»f. P., The Friend. 

17 thy gentle hand] the power Divine M. P. 21 Autumn] Summer 

M. P. 23 The best the thoughts will lift M. P. 26 thee] her M. P. 

28 some] a M. P. 29 hermit] hermit's M. P. 

862 TO ASRA 

This Love that seeming great beyond the power 
Of growth, yet seemeth ever more to grow, 
Could I transmute the whole to one rich Dower 
Of Happy Life, and give it all to Thee, 
Thy lot, methinks, were Heaven, thy age, Eternity! 


This yearning heart (Love ! witness what I say) 
Enshrines thy form as purely as it may. 
Round which, as to some spirit uttering bliss, 
My thoughts all stand ministrant night and day 
Like saintly Priests, that dare not think amiss. 
? 1801 


[written APRIL 4, 1802] 

Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, 
With tlie old Moon in her arms ; 
And I fear, I fear, My Master dear ! 
We shall have a deadly storm. 

Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence. 

Well ! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made 
The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence, 

1 First published from a MS. in 1893. 

2 First published in the Morning Post, October 4, 1802. Included in 
Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The Ode was sent in a 
letter to W. Sotheby, dated Keswick, July 19, 1802 {Letters of S.T.C. 
1895, i. 379-84). Two others MS. versions are preserved at Coleorton 
(P. W. of W. Wordsworth, ed. by William Knight, 1896, iii. App., pp. 400 

Dejection: An Ode — Title] Dejection, &c., written April 4, 1802 M. P. 
2 grand] dear Letter to So/heby, July 19, 1S02. 


This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence 
Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade 
Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes, 5 

Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes 
Upon the strings of this iEolian lute, 
Which better far were mute. 

For lo ! the New-moon winter-bright ! 

And overspread with phantom light, 10 

(With swimming phantom light o'erspread 

But rimmed and circled by a silver thread) 
I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling 

The coming-on of rain and squally blast. 
And oh ! that even now the gust were swelling, 15 

And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast ! 
Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed, 

And sent my soul abroad. 
Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give. 
Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live ! 20 

401). Lines 37, 38 were quoted by Coleridge in the Historie and Gests of 
Maxilian (first published in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine for January, 
1822, and reprinted in Miscellanies, dc, ed. by T. Ashe, 1885, p. 282) : 1. 38 
by Wordsworth in his pamphlet on The Convention of Cintra, 1809, p. 135 : 
lines 47-75, followed by lines 29-38, were quoted by Coleridge in Essays on 
the Fine Arts, No, III (which were first published in Felix Farley's Bristol 
Journal, Sept. 10, 1814, and reprinted by Cottle, E.R., 1837, ii. 201-40) ; and 
lines 21-28, ibid., in illustration of the following Scholium :—^ We have 
sufficiently distinguished the beautiful from the agreeable, by the sure 
criterion, that when we find an object agreeable, the sensation of pleasure 
always precedes the judgment, and is its determining cause. We find it 
agreeable. But when we declare an object beautiful, the contemplation 
or intuition of its beauty precedes the' feeling of complacency, in order of 
nature at least : nay in great depression of spirits may even exist without 
sensibly producing it.' Lines 76-93 are quoted in a letter to Southey 
of July 29, 1802 ; lines 76-83 are quoted in a letter to Allsop, September 30, 
1819, Letters, &c., 1836, i. 17. Lines 80, 81 are quoted in the Biographia 
Literaria, 1817, ii. 182, and lines 87-93 in a letter to Josiah Wedgwood, 
dated October 20, 1802 : see Cottle's Rem., 1848, p. 44, and Tom Wedgwood by 
R. B. Litchfield. 1903, pp. 114, 115. 

5 Than that which moulds yon clouds Letter, July 19, 1802. cloud] 

clouds M.P., S. L. 6 moans] drones Letter, July 19, 1802, M. P. 12 by] 
with Letter, Jidy 19, 1802. 17-20 om. Letter, Jidy 19, 1802, M. P. 



A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear, 
A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief. 
Which finds no natural outlet, no relief. 
In word, or sigh, or tear-- 

Lady! in this wan and heartless mood, 25 
To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd, 

All this long eve, so balmy and serene. 
Have I been gazing on the western sky. 

And its peculiar tint of yellow green : 
And still I gaze — and with how blank an eye ! 30 
And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars, 
That give away their motion to the stars ; 
Those stars, that glide behind them or between. 
Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen: 
Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew 35 

In its own cloudless, starless lake of Ijlue ; 

1 see them all so excellently fair, 

I see, not feel, how beautiful they are ! 

21-8 Quoted as illustrative of a ' Scholium ' in Felix Farley's Journal, 18U. 
22 stifled] stifling Letter, July 19, 1802. 23 Which] That Letter, July 19, 

1802, F. F. 

Between 24-7 

This, William, well thou knowst 

Is the sore evil which I dread the most 

And oft'nest suffer. In this heartless mood 

To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd 

That pipes within the larch-tree, not unseen, 

The larch, that pushes out in tassels green 

Its bundled leafits, woo'd to mild delights 

By all the tender sounds and gentle sights 

Of this sweet primrose-month and vainly woo'd ! 

O dearest Poet in this heartless mood. Letter, July 19, 1802. 

25 O Edmund M.P. : William Coleorton MS. : dearest Lady in this 
heartless mood F. F. 26 by yon sweet throstle woo'd F. F. 28 on] 

at F.F. 29 peculiar] celestial i^. F. yellow green] yellow-green 

Letter, July 19, 1802, M. P. 30 blank] black Cottle, 1837. 

35-6 Yon crescent moon that seems as if it grew 

In its own starless, cloudless F. F. 

Between 36-7 A boat becalm'd ! thy own sweet sky-canoe Letter, July 19, 
1802 : A boat becalm'd ! a lovely sky-canoe M. P. 38 I see not feel M. P., 

Letter, July 19, 1802 : L see ... . they are F. F. 



My genial spirits fail ; 

And what can these avail 40 

To lift the smothering weight from off my breast? 

It were a vain endeavour, 

Though I should gaze for ever 
On that green light that lingers in the west : 
I may not hope from outward forms to win 45 

The passion and the life, whose fountains are within. 


O Lady ! we receive but what we give. 

And in our life alone does Nature live : 

Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud ! 

And would we aught behold, of higher worth, 50 

Than that inanimate cold world allowed 
To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd. 

Ah ! from the soul itself must issue forth 
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud 

Enveloping the Earth — 55 

And from the soul itself must there be sent 

A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth. 
Of all sweet sounds the life and element ! 

O pure of heart ! thou need'st not ask of me 

What this strong music in the soul may be ! 60 

What, and wherein it doth exist. 

This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist, 

This beautiful and beauty-making power. 

Joy, virtuous Lady ! Joy that ne'er was given, 
Save to the pure, and in their purest hour, 65 

Life, and Life's effluence, cloud at once and shower, 

45-6 Quoted in the Gests of Maxilian, Jan. 1822, and Convention of Cintra, 
1809, p. 135. 47 Lady] Wordsworth Letter, July 19, 1802 : William 

Coleorton MS. : Edmund M. P., F. F. we receive but what we give Coleorton 

MS.yF.F. 48 our] our M.P., F. F. 51 aWowe^] alloio'd Letter, July 19, 
1802, M.P. 57 potent] powerful Letter, Juhj 19, 1802, F. F. 

V] Stanza v is included in stanza iv in M. P. 

60 What] What Letter, July 19, 1802. 61 exist] subsist F. F. 64 

virtuous Lady] blameless Poet Letter, July 19, 1802 : virtuous Edmund 
M.P. Joy, O beloved, Joy that F.F. 66 om. Letter, July 19, 1802, 

M. P. : Life of our life the parent and the birth F. F. effluence] 

effulgence S. L. Corr. in Errata p. [xii], and in text by S. T. C. (MS.). 


Joy, Lady ! is the spirit and the power, 
Whicli wedding Nature to us gives in dower 

A new Earth and new Heaven, 
Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud — 70 

Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud — 

We in ourselves rejoice ! 
And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, 

All melodies the echoes of that voice, 
All colours a suffusion from that light. 75 


There was a time when, though my path was rough, 
This joy within me dallied with distress. 

And all misfortunes were but as the stuff 

Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness : 

For hope grew round me^ like the twining vine, 80 

And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine. 

But now afflictions bow me down to earth : 

Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth ; 
But oh ! each visitation 

Suspends what nature gave me at my birth, 85 

My shaping spirit of Imagination. 

67 Lady] William Letter, July 19, 1802 : Edmund M. P. : 07n. F. F. 68 
Which] That Letter, July 19, 1802. 69 A new heaven and new 

earth F. F. 71 om. Letter, July 19, 1802 : This is the strong voice, this 

the luminous cloud F. F. 7a We, we ourselves Letter, July 19, 1802, 

M. P. : Our inmost selves F. F. 73 flows] comes Letter, July 19, 1802. 

charms] glads F. F. 74 the echoes] an echo Letter^ July 19, 1802. 

-A-fter 75 Calm steadfast Spirit, guided from above, 

O Wordsworth ! friend of my devoutest choice, 
Great son of genius ! full of light and love 

Thus, thus dost thou rejoice. 
To thee do all things live from pole to pole, 
Their life the eddying of thy living soul 
Brother and friend of my devoutest choice 
Thus may'st thou ever, evermore rejoice ! Letter, July 19, 1802. 
Before 76 Yes, dearest poet, yes Lette); July 19, 1802 : Yes, dearest 
William ! Yes ! Ooleotion MS. [Stanza v] Yes, dearest Edmund, yes M. P. 
76 The time when Letter, Sept. 30, 1819. 77 This] The Letters, July 19, 1802, 
Sept. 80, 1819. I had a heart that dallied Letter to Southey, July 29, 1802. 
80 For] When Biog. Lit., Letter, Sept. 80, 1819. twining] climbing Letters, 
July 19, 29, 1802, Biog. Lit. 80-1 Quoted in Biog. Lit., 1817, ii. 180. 81 
fruits] fruit Letter, July 19, 1802. 82 But seared thoughts now Letter, 

Sept. 30, 1819. 83 care] car'd Letter, July 19, 1802. 86 In M. P. the 

words * The sixth and seventh stanzas omitted ' preceded three rows of 
four asterisks, lines 87-93 (quoted in Letter to Josiah Wedgwood, Oct. 20, 
1802) being omitted. The Coleorton MS. ends with line 86. 


For not to think of what I needs must feel, 
But to be still and patient, all I can ; 

And haply by abstruse research to steal 

From my own nature all the natural man — 90 

This was my sole resource, my only plan : 

Till that which suits a part infects the whole, 

And now is almost grown the habit of my soul. 


Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind, 

Keality's dark dream ! 95 

I turn from you, and listen to the wind, 

Which long has raved unnoticed. What a scream 
Of agony by torture lengthened out 
That lute sent forth ! Thou Wind, that rav'st without, 

Bare crag, or mountain-tairn,^ or blasted tree, 100 

Or pine-grove whither woodman never clomb, 
Or lonely house, long held the witches' home, 

Methinks were fitter instruments for thee. 
Mad Lutanist ! who in this month of showers. 
Of dark-brown gardens, and of peeping flowers, 105 

Mak'st Devils' yule, with worse than wintry song, 
The blossoms, buds, and timorous leaves among. 

Thou Actor, perfect in all tragic sounds ! 
Thou mighty Poet, e'en to frenzy bold ! 

What tell'st thou now about? no 

'Tis of the rushing of an host in rout. 

With groans, of trampled men, with smarting wounds — 

^ Tairn is a small lake, generally if not always applied to the lakes up 
in the mountains and which are the feeders of those in the valleys. This 
address to the Storm-wind [wind S. Z,.], will not appear extravagant to 
those who have heard it at night and in a mountainous country. 

87 think] think Letters, July 19, 29, 1S02. 91 was] is Letter, Se2)t. 30, 1S19. 
only] wisest Letters, July 19, 29, 1802. 92 Till] And Letters, July 19, 29, 

1802. 93 habit] temper Letters, July 19, 29, Oct. 20, 1802. 

94-5 Nay [0 M. P.] wherefore did I let it haunt my mind 

This dark distressful dream. Letter, July 19, 1802. 

96 you] it Letter, July 19, 1802, M. P. 99 That lute sent out ! O thou 

wild storm without Letter, July 19, 1802. O Wind M. P. 104 who] 

that Letter, July 19, 1802. 112 With many groans from men Letter, 

July 19, 1802 : With many groans of men M. P. 


At once thoy groan witli pain, and shiiddor with the cold ! 
But liush ! there is a pause of deepest silence ! 

And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd, 115 

With groans, and tremulous shudderings — all is over — 
It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud ! 
A tale of less affright, 
And tempered with delight, 
As Otway's self had framed the tender lay, — 120 

'Tis of a little child 
Upon a lonesome wild, 
Not far from home, but she hath lost her way: 
And now moans low in bitter grief and fear, 
And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear. 


'Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep: 136 

Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep ! 
Visit her, gentle Sleep ! with wings of healing, 

And may this storm be but a mountain-birth. 
May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, 130 

Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth ! 
With light heart may she rise. 
Gay fancy, cheerful eyes, 

Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice ; 
To her may all things live, from pole to pole, 135 

Their life the eddying of her living soul ! 

O simple spirit, guided from above. 
Dear Lady friend devoutest of my choice, 
Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice. 

115 Again! but all that noise Letter^ July 19, 1802. 117 And it has 

other sounds less fearful and less loud Letter, July 10, 1802. 120 

Otway's self] thou thyself Letter, July 19, 1802 : Edmund's self M. P. 
T22 lonesome] heath Letter, July 19, 1802. 124 bitter] utter Letter, 

July 19, 1802, M. P. 125 hear] hear Letter, July 10, 1802, M. P. 

VIII] om. Letter, July 10, 1802. 126 but] and M. P. 128 her] 

himM. P. 130 her] his ilf. P. 131 watched] watched M. P. 132 

she] he M. P. 
After 133 

And sing his lofty song and teach me to rejoice I 
O Edmund, friend of my devoutest choice, 
O rais'd from anxious dread and busy care. 
By the immenseness of the good and fair 

Which thou see'st everywhere, " 5 




Through weeds and thorns, and matted underwood 

I force my way ; now climb, and now descend 

O'er rocks, or bare or mossy, with wild foot 

Crushing the purple whorts;^ while oft unseen, 

Hurrying along the drifted forest-leaves, 5 

The scared snake rustles. Onward still I toil, 

T know not, ask not whither ! A new joy, 

Lovely as light, sudden as summer gust. 

And gladsome as the first-born of the spring, 

Beckons me on, or follows from behind, lo 

Playmate, or guide ! The master-passion quelled, 

I feel that I am free. With dun-red bark 

The fir-trees, and the unfrequent slender oak, 

Forth from this tangle wild of bush and brake 

Soar up, and form a melancholy vault 15 

High o'er me, murmuring like a distant sea. 

Here Wisdom might resort, and here Remorse ; 

Here too the love-lorn man, who, sick in soul. 

And of this busy human heart aweary, 

Worships the spirit of unconscious life 20 

' First published in the Aform'n^Pos^, September 6, 1802 : included in the 
Poetical Register for 1802 (1804), in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

It has been pointed out to me (by Mr, Arthur Turnbull) that the con- 
ception of the ' Resolution ' that failed was suggested by Gessner's Idyll 
Der feste Vorsatz ('The Fixed Resolution') : — S. Gessners Schriften, i. 104-7 ; 
Works, 1802, ii. 219-21. 

2 Vaccinium Myrtillus, known by the different names of Whorts, Whortle- 
berries, Bilberries; and in the North of England, Blea-berries and 
Bloom-berries. [Note by S. T. C. 1802.] 

Joy lifts thy spirit, joy attunes thy voice. 

To thee do all things live from pole to pole, 

Their life the eddying of thy living soul ! 

O simple Spirit, guided from above, 

lofty Poet, full of life and love, 10 

Brother and Friend of my devoutest choice, 

Thus may'st thou ever, evermore rejoice ! 

E2TH2E. M. P. 
iNote.— For lines 7, 8, 11, 12 of this variant, vide ante, variant of lines 
75 foil.] 

3 wild] blind M. P., P. R. 17-26 am. M. P., P. R. 17-25 Quoted 

in Letter to Cottle, May 27, 1814. 18 love-lorn] woe-worn (heart-sick 

erased) Letter, 1S14. 20 unconscious life Letter, ISli. 


In tree or wild-flower. — Gentle lunatic! 

If so he might not wholly cease to be, 

He W(Mikl far rather not be that he is ; 

But would be something that he knows not of, 

In winds or waters, or among the rocks! 25 

But hence, fond wretch ! breathe not contagion here ! 
No myrtle-walks are these: these are no groves 
Where Love dare loiter ! If in sullen mood 
He should stray hither, the low stumps shall gore 
His dainty feet, the briar and the thorn 30 

Make his plumes haggard. Like a wounded bird 
Easily caught, ensnare him, O ye Nymphs, 
Ye Oreads chaste, ye dusky Dryades ! 
And you, ye Earth-winds ! you that make at morn 
The dew-drops quiver on the spiders' webs I 35 

You, ye wingless Airs ! that creep between 
The rigid stems of heath and Intten furze, 
Within whose scanty shade, at summer-noon. 
The mother-sheep hath worn a hollow bed — 
Ye, that now cool her fleece with dropless damp, 40 
Now pant and murmur with her feeding lamb. 
Chase, chase him, all ye Fays, and elfin Gnomes ! 
With prickles sharper than his darts bemock 
His little Godship, making him perforce 
Creep through a thorn-bush on yon hedgehog's back. 45 

This is my hour of triumph ! I can now 
With my own fancies play the merry fool, 
And laugh away worse folly, being free. 
Here will I seat myself, beside this old, 
Hollow, and weedy oak, which ivy-twine 50 

Clothes as with net-work : here will I couch my limbs, 
Close by this river, in this silent shade. 
As safe and sacred from the step of man 
As an invisible world — unheard, unseen. 
And listening only to the pebbly brook 55 

22 wholly cease to Be Letter, 1814. 27 these] here M. P. 28 For 

Love to dwell in ; the low stumps would gore M. P., P. R. 
31-3 till, like wounded bird 

Easily caught, the dusky Dryades 
With prickles sharper than his darts would mock. 
His Utile Godship M. P., P. R. 

34-42, 44 om. M. P., P.P. 51 here will coucli M. P., P. R., S. L. 55 
brook] stream M. P., P. P., S. L. (for stream read brook Errata, S. L., p. [xi]). 


That murmurs with a dead, yet tinkling sound ; 

Or to the bees, that in the neighbouring trunk 

Make honey-hoards. The breeze, that visits me, 

Was never Love's accomplice, never raised 

The tendril ringlets from the maiden's brow, 60 

And the blue, delicate veins above her cheek ; 

Ne'er played the wanton— never half disclosed 

The maiden's snowy bosom, scattering thence 

Eye-poisons for some love-distempered youth, 

Who ne'er henceforth may see an aspen-grove 65 

Shiver in sunshine, but his feeble heart 

Shall flow away like a dissolving thing. 

Sweet breeze ! thou only, if I guess aright, 

Liftest the feathers of the robin's breast, 

That swells its little breast, so full of song, 70 

Singing above me, on the mountain-ash. 

And thou too, desert stream ! no pool of thine, 

Though clear as lake in latest summer-eve, 

Did e'er reflect the stately virgin's robe, 

The face, the form divine, the downcast look 75 

Contemplative ! Behold ! her open palm 

Presses her cheek and brow ! her elbow rests 

On the bare branch of half-uprooted tree, 

That leans towards its mirror ! Who erewhile 

Had from her countenance turned, or looked by stealth, 

(For Fear is true-love's cruel nurse), he now 81 

With steadfast gaze and unoffending eye. 

Worships the watery idol, dreaming hopes 

Delicious to the soul, but fleeting, vain. 

E'en as that phantom-world on which he gazed, 85 

But not unheeded gazed : for see, ah ! see, 

The sportive tyrant with her left hand plucks 

56-7 yet bell-like sound 

Tinkling, or bees M. P., P. R., S. L. 1828. 
58 The] This M. P., P. R., S. L. 70 That swells its] Who swells his 

M. P., P. R., S. L. 75 the] her downcast M. P., P. R. Her face, her 

form divine, her downcast look S. L. 

76-7 Contemplative, her cheek upon her palm 

Supported ; the white arm and elbow rest M. P., P. R. 
Contemplative ! Ah see ! her open palm 
Presses S. L. 
79-80 He, meanwhile, 

Who from M. P., P. P., S. L. 
86 om. M. P., P. R., S. L. 87 The] She M. P., P. P., S. L. 



Tho heads of tall flowers that behind her p^row, 

Lychnis, and willow-herb, and fox-glove liells : 

And suddenly, as one that toys with time, 90 

Scatters them on the pool ! Then all the charm 

Is broken — all that i)hantom world so fair 

Vanishes, and a thousand circlets spread. 

And each mis shape the other. Stay awhile, 

Poor youth, who scarcely dar'st lift up thine ej'-es ! 95 

The stream will soon renew its smoothness, soon 

The visions will return ! And lo ! lie stays : 

And soon the fragments dim of lovely forms 

Come trembling back, unite, and now once more 

The pool becomes a mirror ; and behold 100 

Each wildflower on the marge inverted there. 

And there the half-uprooted tree — but where, 

O where the virgin's snowy arm, that leaned 

On its bare In-anch ? He turns, and she is gone ! 

Homeward she steals through many a woodland maze 105 

Which he shall seek in vain. Ill-fated youth ! 

Go, day by day, and waste thy manly prime 

In mad love-yearning by the vacant brook, 

Till sickly thoughts bewitch thine eyes, and thou 

Behold'st her shadow still abiding there, no 

The Naiad of the mirror ! 

Not to thee, 

wild and desert stream ! belongs this tale : 
Gloomy and dark art thou — the crowded firs 
Spire from thy shores, and stretch across thy bed. 
Making thee doleful as a cavern- well : 115 
Save when the shy king-fishers build their nest 

On thy steep banks, no loves hast thou, wild stream ! 

This be my chosen haunt — emancipate 
From Passion's dreams, a freeman, and alone, 

1 rise and trace its devious course. O lead, 120 
Lead me to deeper shades and lonelier glooms. 

Lo ! stealing through the canopy of firs, 
How fair the sunshine spots that mossy rock, 
Isle of the river, whose disparted waves 

91-100 These lines are quoted in the prefatoi-y note to Kuhla Khan. 
94 mis-shape] mis-shapes M. P. 108 love-yearning by] love-gazing 

on M. P., P. R. 114 Spire] Tow'r M. P., P. It., S. L. 118 my] thy 

S. L. (for thy read my Errata, S. L., p. [xi]). 121 and] to M. P., P. R. 

124 waves] waters P. R., S. L. 


Dart off asunder with an angry sound, 125 

How soon to re-unite ! And see ! they meet, 

Each in the other lost and found : and see 

Placeless, as spirits, one soft water-sun 

Throbbing within them, heart at once and eye ! 

With its soft neighbourhood of fihiiy clouds, 130 

The stains and shadings of forgotten tears, 

Dimness o'erswum with lustre ! Such the hour 

Of deep enjoyment, following love's brief feuds ; 

And hark, the noise of a near waterfall ! 

I pass forth into light — I find myself 135 

Beneath a weeping birch (most beautiful 

Of forest trees, the Lady of the Woods), 

Hard by the brink of a tall weedy rock 

That overbrows the cataract. How bursts 

The landscape on my sight ! Two crescent hills 140 

Fold in behind each other, and so make 

A circular vale, and land-locked, as might seem. 

With brook and bridge, and grey stone cottages. 

Half hid by rocks and fruit-trees. At my feet, 

The whortle-berries are bedewed with spray, US 

Dashed upwards by the furious waterfall. 

How solemnly the pendent ivy-mass 

Swings in its winnow: All the air is calm. 

The smoke from cottage-chimneys, tinged with light, 

Eises in columns; from this house alone, 150 

Close by the water-fall, the column slants, 

And feels its ceaseless breeze. But what is this? 

That cottage, with its slanting chimney-smoke, 

And close beside its porch a sleeping child. 

His dear head pillowed on a sleeping dog^ 155 

One arm between its fore-legs, and the hand 

Holds loosely its small handful of wild-flowers, 

Unfilletted, and of unequal lengths. 

A curious picture, with a master's haste 

126-32 Hoiv soon to rc-unitel They meet, they join 
In deep embrace, and open to the sun 

Lie calm and smooth. Such the delicious hour M. P., P.R.,S. L. 
133 Of deep enjoyment, folTwing Love's brief quarrels M. P., P. R. Lines 
126-33 are supplied in the Errata, S. L. 1817 (p. xi). 134 And] But 

Errata, S. L. (p. xi). 135 I come out into light M. P., P.R.: I came out 

into light S. L. For came read come Errata, S. L. (p. xi). 144 At] 

Beneath M. P., P. R., S. L. (for Beneath read At Errata, S. L. , p. [xi]). 152 

this] (his M. P., P. R. : this S. L. 18:^8, 1S.:^0. 


Sketched on a strip of pinky-silver skin, 160 

Peeled from the birchen luark ! Divinest maid ! 
Yon bark her canvas, and those purple berries 
Her pencil ! See, the juice is scarcely dried 
On the fine skin ! She has been newly here ; 
And lo ! yon patcli of heath has been her couch — 165 
The pressure still remains ! O blessed couch ! 
For this may'st thou flower early, and the sun, 
Slanting at eve, rest bright, and linger long 
Upon thy purple bells ! O Isabel ! 

Daughter of genius! stateliest of our maids! 170 

More beautiful than whom Alcaeus wooed, 
The Lesbian woman of immortal song ! 
O child of genius ! stately, beautiful. 
And full of love to all, save only me. 
And not ungentle e'en to me! My heart, 175 

Why beats it thus? Through yonder coppice-wood 
Needs must the pathway turn, that leads straightway 
On to her father's house. She is alone ! 
The night draws on — such ways are hard to hit — 
And fit it is I should restore this sketch, 180 

Dropt unawares, no doubt. Why should I yearn 
To keep the relique? 'twill but idly feed 
The passion that consumes me. Let me haste ! 
The picture in my hand which she has left ; 
She cannot blame me that I followed her: 185 

And I may be her guide the long wood through. 


[' One of our most celebrated poets, wlio had, I was told, picked out 
and praised the little piece 'On a Cloud,' another had quoted (saying it 
would have been faultless if I had not used the word Phoebus in it, wliich 
lie thought inadmissible in modern poetry), sent me some verses inscribed 
"To Matilda Betham, from a Stranger"; and dated "Keswick, Sept. 0, 
1802, S. T. C' I should have guessed whence they came, but dared not 
flatter myself so higiily as satisfactorily to believe it, before I obtained 
the avowal of the lady who had transmitted them. Excerpt from 'Auto- 
biographical Skefch '•] 

Matilda ! I have heard a sweet tune played 
On a sweet instrument — thy Poesie — 
^ First printed in a ' privately printed autobiographical sketch of 

162 those] these P. R. 174 nic] one M. P., P. E. 177 straightway] 

away M. P., P. N. 184 The] This M. P., P. /»'. 


Sent to my soul by Boughton's pleading voice, 

Where friendship's zealous wish inspirited, 

Deepened and filled the subtle tones of taste : 5 

(So have I heard a Nightingale's fine notes 

Blend with the murmur of a hidden stream !) 

And now the fair, wild offspring of thy genius. 

Those wanderers whom thy fancy had sent forth 

To seek their fortune in this motley world, 10 

Have found a little home within my heart, 

And brought me, as the quit-rent of their lodging, 

Rose-buds, and fruit-blossoms, and pretty weeds. 

And timorous laurel leaflets half-disclosed, 

Engarlanded with gadding woodbine tendrils ! 15 

A coronal, which, with undoubting hand, 

I twine around the brows of patriot Hofe ! 

The Almighty, having first composed a Man, 

Set him to music, framing Woman for him, 

And fitted each to each, and made them one ! 20 

And 'tis my faith, that there 's a natural bond 

Between the female mind and measured sounds, 

Nor do I know a sweeter Hope than this. 

That this sweet Hope, by judgment unreproved. 

That our own Britain, our dear mother Isle, 25 

May boast one Maid, a poetess indeed, 

Great as th' imi>assioned Lesbian, in sweet song, 

And O ! of holier mind, and happier fate. 

Matilda ! I dare twine thy vernal wreath 

Around the brows of patriot Hope ! But thou 30 

Be wise ! be bold ! fulfil my auspices ! 

Tho' sweet thy measures, stern must be thy thought. 

Patient thy study, watchful thy mild eye ! 

Poetic feelings, like the stretching boughs 

Of mighty oaks, pay homage to the gales, 35 

Mi^is Matilda Betham ', preserved in a volume of tracts arranged and 
bound up by Southey, now in the Forster Collection in the Victoria and 
Albert Museum: reprinted (by J. Dykes Campbell) in the Athenaeum 
(March 15, 1890) : and, again, in A House of Letters, by Ernest Betham 
[1905], pp. 7G-7. First collected in 1893 (see Editor's Note, p. 630). 
Lines 33-41 are quoted in a Letter to Sotheby, September 10, 1802. See 
Letters of S. T. C, 1895, i. 404. 

7 murmur] murmurs 1893. i6 coronal] coronel P. Sketch. 34 

stretching] flexuous M.S. Letter, Sept. 10, 1802. 35 pay] yield MS. 

Letter, 1802. 


Toss ill tlio strong winds, drive Ix'fore tlie gust, 
Themselves one giddy storm of fluttering leaves ; 
Yet, all the while self-limited, remain 
E(iually near the fixed and solid trunk 
Of Truth and Nature in the howling storm, 40 

As in the calm that stills the aspen grove. 
Be bold, meek Woman ! but be wisely bold ! 
Fly, ostrich-like, firm land beneath thy feet, 
Yet hurried onward by thy wings of fancy 
Swift as the whirlwind, singing in their quills. 45 

Look round thee ! look within thee ! think and feel ! 
What nobler meed, Matilda ! canst thou win. 
Than tears of gladness in a Boughton's' eyes. 
And exultation even in strangers' hearts? 


Besides the Rivers, Arve and Aiveiron, which h.ave tlieir sources in 
the foot of Mont Blanc, five conspicuous torrents rush down its sides; 
and witliin a few paces of the Glaciers, the Gentiana Mnjor grows in im- 
mense numbers, with its * flowers of loveliest [liveliest Fricnrf, 1809] blue.' 

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star 

In his steep course? So long he seems to pause 

On thy bald awful head, sovran Blanc, 

' Catherine Rose, wife of Sir Charles William Rouse-Boughton, Bart. 
Sir Charles and Lady Boughton visited Greta Hall in September, 1802. 

2 First published in the Morning Post, Sept. 11, 1802: reprinted in the 
Poetical Register for 1802 (1803), ii. 308, 311, and in TJie Friend, No. XI, Oct. 
26, 1809 : included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. Three 
MSS. are extant : (1) MS. A, sent to Sir George Beaumont, Oct. 1803 (see 
Coleorton Letfeis, 1886, i. 26 ; (2) MS. B, the MS, of the version as printed 
in The Friend, Oct. 26, 1809 (now in the Forster Collection in the Victoria 
and Albert Museum) ; (3) MS. C, presented to Mrs. Brabant in 1815 (now 
in the British Museum). The Hymn before Sunrise, d-c, 'Hymn in the 
manner of the Psalms,' is an expansion, in part, of a translation of 
Friederika Brun's 'Ode to Chamouny', addressed to Klopstock, which 

39 solid] parent MS. Letter, 1802. 40 Of truth in Nature — in the 

howling blast MS. Letter, 1802. 

Hymn before, &c. — Title] Chamouny The Hour before Sunrise A Hymn 
M. P., P. R. : Mount Blanc, The Summit of the Vale of Chamouny, An 
Hour before Sunrise : A Hymn 3IS. A. 

3 On thy bald awful head O Chamouny M.P., P. R. : On thy bald 
awful top O Chamouny MS. A : On thy bald awful top Sovran Blanc 
Friend, 1800. 


The Arve and Arveiron at thy base 

Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful Form ! 5 

Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 

How silently ! Around thee and above 

Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, 

An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it. 

As with a wedge ! But when I look again, 10 

It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 

Thy habitation from eternity ! 

dread and silent Mount ! I gazed upon thee, 
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, 

Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 15 

1 worshipped the Invisible alone. 

Yet, like some sw^eet beguiling melody, 

numbers some twenty lines. The German original (see the Appendices 
of this edition) was first appended to Coleridge's Poetical Works in 1844 
(p. 372). A translation was given in a footnote, P. W. (ed. by T. Ashe), 
1885, ii. 86, 87. In the Morning Post and Poetical Register the following 
explanatory note preceded the poem -. — 

* Chamouni, the Hour before Sunrise. 
' [Chamouni is one of the highest mountain valleys of the Barony 
of Faucigny in the Savoy Alps ; and exhibits a kind of fairy world, 
in which the wildest appearances (I had almost said horrors) of Nature 
alternate with the softest and most beautiful. The chain of Mont Blanc 
is its boundary ; and besides the Arve it is filled with sounds from 
the Arveiron, which rushes from the melted glaciers, like a giant, mad 
with joy, from a dungeon, and forms other torrents of snow-water, 
having their rise in the glaciers which slope down into the valley. 
The beautiful Gentiana major, or greater gentian, with blossoms of the 
brightest blue, grows in large companies a few steps from the never- 
melted ice of the glaciers. I thought it an affecting emblem of the 
boldness of human hope, venturing near, and, as it were, leaning over 
the brink of the grave. Indeed, the whole vale, its every light, its every 
sound, must needs impress every mind not utterly callous with the 
thought— Who ivould be, who cotild be an Atheist in this valley of wonders ! 
If any of the readers of the Morning Post [Those who have P. R.'] have 
visited this vale in their journeys among the Alps, I am confident that 
they [that they om. P. R.'\ will not find the sentiments and feelings ex- 
pressed, or attempted to be expressed, in the followingpoem, extravagant.]' 

4 Arve] Arve M. P., P. R., MS. (C). 5 dread mountain form M. P., P. R., 
MS. A. most] dread Friend, ISOO. 6 forth] out 3IS. A. 8 Deep is the 
sky, and black : transpicuous, deep M.P., P. R. : Deep is the sky, and black ! 
transpicuous, black. MS. A. 1 1 is thine] seems thy ilf. P., P. i2. 13 
Mount] form M. P., P. R., MS. A. 14 the bodily sense] my bodily eye 

M. P., P. R. : my bodily sense MS. A. t6 Invisible] Invisible M. P., P. R., 
Friend, 1809, MS. A. 


So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, 

Thou, the meanwliilo, wast blending with my Thought, 

Yea, with my Life and Life's own secret joy : 20 

Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, 

Into the mighty vision passing— there 

As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven ! 

Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise 
Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, 25 

Mute thanks and secret ecstasy ! Awake, 
Voice of sweet song ! Awake, my heart, awake ! 
Green vales and icy clift's, all join my Hymn. 

Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the Vale ! 
struggling with the darkness all the night,^ 30 

And visited all night by troops of stars, 
Or when they climb the sky or when they sink: 
Companion of the morning-star at dawn, 
Thyself Earth's rosy star, and of the dawn 
Co-herald : wake, wake, and utter praise ! 35 

W"ho sank thy sunless pillars deep in Earth ? 
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light? 
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams? 

And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad ! 
Who called you forth from night and utter death, 40 

From dark and icy caverns called you forth, 

^ I had written a much finer line when Sea' Fell was in my thoughts, 
viz. : — 

blacker than the darkness all the night 
And visited Note to MS. A. 

17 Yet thou meantime, wast working on my soul, 

E'en like some deep enchanting melody M. P., P.R., MS. A. 
19 foil. But [Now MS. A'] I awake, and with a busier mind, 
And active will self-conscious, offer now 
Not as before, involuntary pray'r 
And passive adoration ! 

Hand and voice, 
Awake, awake ! and thou, my heart, awake ! 
Awake ye rocks ! Ye forest pines awake ! {Not in MS. A.) 
Green fields M.P., P.R., MS. A. 
29-30 And lliou, O silent Mountain, sole and bare 

O blacker tban the darkness all the night M.P., P. R. 
29 And thou, thou silent mountain, lone and bare MS. A. The first 
and chief, stern Monarch of the Vale Errata to 'Hymn', <^c., The Friend, 
No. XIII, Nov. IG, 1809. 38 parent] father M. P., P. R., MS. A. 

41 From darkness let you loose and icy dens M. P., P.R., MS. A. 


Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 

For ever shattered and the same for ever? 

Who gave you your invulnerable life, 

Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 45 

Unceasing thunder and eternal foam? 

And who commanded (and the silence came). 

Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest? 

Ye Ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow 
Adown enormous ravines slope amain — 50 

Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice. 
And stopi^ed at once amid their maddest plunge ! 
Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! 
Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven 
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun 55 
Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flowers ^ 
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — 
God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, 
Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, God ! 
God ! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice ! 60 
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds ! 
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow. 
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God ! 

Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! 
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest ! 65 

^ The Gentiana major grows in large companies a stride's distance from 
the foot of several of the glaciers. Its blue flower, the colour of Hope : is 
it not a pretty emblem of Hope creeping onward even to the edge of the 
grave, -to the very verge of utter desolation ? Note to MS. A. 

46 Eternal thunder and unceasing foam MS. A. 48 * Here shall 

the billows. . .' M.P., P. R. : Here shall your billows MS. A. 49 

the mountain's brow] yon dizzy heights M. P., P. B. 50 Adown 

enormous ravines steeply slope M. P., P. R., MS. A. [A hod line ; but I hope 
to be able to alter it Note to MS. A'\. 

56 with lovely flowers 

Of living blue M.P., P. R., MS. A. 
Between 58-64 

God ! God ! the torrents like a shout of nations 
Utter ! the ice-plain bursts and answers God ! 
God, sing the meadow-streams with gladsome voice, 
And pine-groves with their soft and soul-like sound. 
The silent snow-mass, loos'ning thunders God ! M. P., P. R. 
TJiese lines ivere omitted in MS. A. 

64 Ye dreadless flow'rs that fringe M. P., P. R. living] azure MS. A. 

livery S. L. (corrected in Errata, p. [xi]). 65 sporting round] bounding 
by M. P., P. R., MS. A. 


Ye eagles, i)hiy-inato.s of the mountjiin-storm ! 
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! 
Ye signs and wonders of the element ! 
Utter forth CJod, and fill the hills with j)raise ! 

Thou too, hoar Mount I with thy sky-pointing peaks, 
Oft from whose feet the avalanche,' unheard, 71 

Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene 
Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast — 
Thou too again, stupendous Mountain ! thou 
That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 75 

In adoration, upward from thy base 
Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears, 
Solemnly seemest, like a vapouiy cloud. 
To rise before me — Rise, O ever rise. 
Rise like a cloud of incense from the Earth ! 80 

Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, 
Thou dread ambassador from Earth to Heaven, 
Great Hierarch ! tell thou the silent sky, 
And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun 
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God. 85 

^ The fall of vast masses of snow, so called. Note MS. (C), 

66 mountain-storm] mountain blast M. P., P. R. 69 God] God. 

M. P., P.K. 
Beticeen 70-80 

And thou, silent Form, alone and bare 
Whom, as I lift again my head bow'd low 
In adoration, I again behold, 
And to thy summit upward from thy base 
Sweep slowly with dim eyes suffus'd by tears, 
Awake thou mountain form ! rise, like a cloud ill. P., P. R. 
And thou thou silent mountain, lone and bare 
Whom as I lift again my head bow^'d low 
In adoration, I again behold ! 
And from thy summit upward to the base 
Sweep slowly, with dim eyes suffus'd with tears 
Rise, mighty form ! even as thou seemst to rise. MS. A. 
70 Thou too] And thou, Errata, Friend, No. XIII. Once more, hoar 
Mount MS. (C), S. L. (For once more, read Thou too Errata, S. L., p. [xi]). 
72 through] in Friend, 1809. In the blue serene MS. (C). 74 again] 

once more MS. (C). 75 That as once more I raise my Head bow'd low 

Friend, No. XI, 1S09 (see the Errata, No. XIII). 

83-4 tell thou the silent stars, 

Tell the blue sky MS. A. 
84 yon] the M. P., P. R., MS. A. 85 praises] calls on M. P., P. R., 

MS. A. 



' How seldom, friend ! a good great man inherits 
Honour or wealth with all his worth and pains ! 

It sounds like stories from the land of spirits 

If any man obtain that which he merits 

Or any merit that which he obtains.' 5 


For shame, dear friend, renounce this canting strain ! 

What would'st thou have a good great man obtain? 

Place? titles? salary? a gilded chain? 

Or throne of corses which his sword had slain ? lo 

Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends ! 

Hath he not always treasures, always friends. 

The good great man? three treasures, Love, and Light, 

And Calm Thoughts, regular as infant's breath: 
And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, 15 

Himself, his Maker, and the Angel Death ! 


This Sycamore, oft musical with bees, — 

Such tents the Patriarchs loved ! O long unharmed 

May all its aged boughs o'er-canopy 

The small round basin, which this jutting stone 

Keeps pure from falling leaves ! Long may the Spring, 5 

^ First published in the Morning Post (as an ' Epigram ', signed E2TH2E), 
September 23, 1802 : reprinted in the Poetical Register for 1802 (1803, p. 246) : 
included in The Friend, No. XIX, December 28, 1809, and in Literary Remains, 
1836, i. 53. First collected in 1844. 

2 First published in the Morning Post, September 24, 1802 : reprinted in 
the Poetical Register for 1802 (1803, p. 838): included in Sibylline Leaves, 
1828, 1829, and 1834. 

The Good, Great Man— Title] Epigram M. P.: Epigrams P. R. : Complaint 
Lit. Rem., 1844, 1852: The Good, &c. 1898. 6 Reply to the above M. P. : 

Reply The Friend, 1809 : Reproof Lit. Rem., 1844. 

Inscription, &c. — Title] Inscription on a Jutting Stone, over a Spring 
M. P., P. R. 

3 aged] darksome M. P., P. R. 5 Still may this spring M. P., P. R. 


Quietly as a sK't-ping infant's ))reath, 
Send u\^ cold waters to the traveller 
With soft and oven pulse ! Nor ever cease 
Yon tiny cone of sand its soundless dance/ 
Which at the bottom, like a Fairy's Page, lo 

As merry and no taller, dances still, 
Nor wrinkles the smooth surface of the Fount. 
Here Twilight is and Coolness : here is moss, 
A soft seat, and a deep and ample shade. 
Thou may'st toil far and find no second tree. 15 

Drink. Pilgrim, here ; Here rest ! and if thy heart 
Be innocent, here too shalt thou refresh 
Thy spirit, listening to some gentle sound, 
Or passing gale or hum of murmuring bees ! 




I KNOAV it is dark ; and though I have lain, 
Awake, as I guess, an hour or twain, 

* Compare Anima Poetae, 1895, p. 17 : 'The spring with the little tiny 
cone of loose sand ever rising and sinking to the bottom, but its surface 
without a wrinkle.' 

' First published in the Morning Post (?), Oct. 7, 1802 : included in 
Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : in Literary Remains, 1836, i, 54-6. First collected in 
1844. In Literary Bemains the poem is dated 1809, but in a letter to 
J. Wedgwood, Oct. 20, 1802, Coleridge seems to imply that the Ode to 
the Rain had appeared recently in the Morning Post. A MS. note of 
Mrs. H. N. Coleridge, included in other memoranda intended for publi- 
cation in Essays on His Own Times, gives the date, ' Ode to Rain, October 
7'. Tlie issue for October 7 is missing in the volume for 1802 preserved 

7 waters] water P. R. to] for M. P., P. R. 9 soundless] noise- 

less M. P., P. R. 10 Which] That M. P., P. R. 13 Here coolness 

dwell, and twilight M. P., P. R. 

16 foil. Here, stranger, drink ! Here rest ! And if thy heart 
Be innocent, here too may'st thou renew 
Thy spirits, listening to these gentle sounds, 
The passing gale, or ever-murm'ring bees. M. P., P. R. 


I have not once opened the lids of my eyes, 
But I lie in the dark, as a blind man lies. 

Rain ! that I lie listening to, 5 
You're but a doleful sound at best: 

1 owe you little thanks, 'tis true. 
For breaking thus my needful rest ! 
Yet if, as soon as it is light, 

O Rain! you will but take your flight, lo 

I'll neither rail, nor malice keep, 
Though sick and sore for want of sleep. 
But only now, for this one day. 
Do go, dear Rain ! do go away ! 


O Rain! with your dull two-fold sound, 15 

The clash hard by, and the murmur all round ! 
You know, if you know aught, that we. 
Both night and day, but ill agree : 
For days and months, and almost years, 
Have limped on through this vale of tears, 20 

Since body of mine, and rainy weather, 
Have lived on easy terms together. 
Yet if, as soon as it is light, 
O Rain ! you will but take your flight. 
Though you should come again to-morrow, 25 

And bring with you both pain and sorrow ; 
Though stomach should sicken and knees should swell — 
I'll nothing speak of you but well. 
But only now for this one day, 
Do go, dear Rain ! do go away I 30 


Dear Rain ! I ne'er refused to say 
You're a good creature in your way ; 
Nay, I could write a book myself. 
Would fit a parson's lower shelf. 
Showing how very good you are. — 35 

in the British Museum, and it may be presumed that it was in that 
number the Ode to the Rain first appeared. It is possible that the ' Ode ' 
was written on the morning after the unexpected arrival of Charles 
and Mary Lamb at Greta Hall in August, 1802. 


What then ? sometimes it must be fair 
And if sometimes, why not to-day? 
Do go. dear Ixain ! do go away ! 


Dear Rain ! if I've been cold and sliy, 
Take no offence ! I'll tell you why. 40 

A dear old Friend e'en now is here, 
And with him came my sister dear ; 
After long a))sence now first met, 
Long months by pain and grief beset — 
We three dear friends ! in truth, we groan 45 

Impatiently to be alone. 
We three, you mark ! and not one more ! 
The strong wish makes my spirit sore. 
We have so much to talk about, 
So many sad things to let out ; 50 

So many tears in our eye-corners, 
Sitting like little Jacky Horners — 
In short, as soon as it is day, 
Do go, dear Rain ! do go away. 

And this I'll swear to you, dear Rain ! 55 

Whenever you shall come again, 
Be you as dull as e'er you could 
(And by the bye 'tis understood. 
You're not so pleasant as you're good). 
Yet, knowing well your worth and place, 60 

I'll welcome you with cheerful face ; 
And though you stayed a week or more, 
Were ten times duller than before ; 
Yet with kind heart, and right good will, 
I'll sit and listen to you still ; 65 

Nor should you go away, dear Rain ! 
Uninvited to remain. 
But only now, for this one day, 
Do go, dear Rain ! do go away. 

45 We] With L. E. 1S44, 1862. [The text was amended in P. W., 1877 




My eyes make pictures, when they are shut : 

I see a fountain, large and fair, 
A willow and a ruined hut, 

And thee, and nie and Mary there. 

Mary ! make thy gentle lap our pillow I 5 
Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow I 

A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed. 

And that and summer well agree : 
And lo ! where Mary leans her head. 

Two dear names cai-ved upon the tree ! lo 

And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow : 
Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow. 

'Twas day ! but now few, large, and bright. 

The stars are round the crescent moon I 
And now it is a dark warm night, 15 

The balmiest of the month of June ! 
A glow-worm fall'n, and on the marge remounting 
Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain. 

ever— ever be thou blest ! 

For dearly, Asra ! love I thee ! 20 

This brooding warmth across my breast, 

This depth of tranquil bliss — ah, me ! 
Fount, tree and shed are gone, I know not whither, 
But in one quiet room we three are still together. 

The shadows dance uj^on the wall, 25 

By the still dancing fire-flames made ; 
And now they slumber, moveless all ! 

And now they melt to one deep shade I 
But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee : 

1 dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee ! 30 

1 First published in the Bijou for 1828 : included in 1828, J 829, and 1834. 
Asra is Miss Sarah Hutchinson ; ' Our Sister and our Friend,' William and 
Dorothy Wordsworth. There can be little doubt that these lines were 
written in 1801 or 1802. 

8 well] will Bijoiij 1828. 17 on] in Bijou, 1S2S. 20 For Asra, 

dearly Bijou, 1828. 28 one] me Bijou. 1S28. 

386 A 1)AV-J)KKAM 

Tliiiio tyola.-ih on my check doth play — 

Tis Mary's hand upon my brow I 
IJut \ci inv check this tender lay 

AVhich none may hoar but she and thou I 
Like tiic still hive at quiet midnight humming. 
Murmur it to yourselves, ye two ]>eloved women! 



Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, the Dove, 
The Linnet and Thrush say, ' I love and I love I ' 
In the winter they're silent— the wind is so strong ; 
What it says, I don't know, but it sings a loud song. 
But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, 
And singing, and loving — all come back together. 
But the Lark is so brimful of gladness and love. 
The green fields below Inm, the blue sky above. 
That he sings, and he sings ; and for ever sings he — 
* I love my Love, and my Love loves me ! ' i 




If thou wert here, these tears were tears of light ! 
But from as sweet a vision did I start 

^ First published in the Morning Post, October 1(3, 1802: included in 
Sihyllinc Leaves, in 1828, 182D, and 1834. 

' First publislied in the Morning Post, October 19, 1802. First collected in 
Poems, 1852. A note p. 384), was affixed :— ' This little poem first appeared 

Answer to a Child's Question —Title'] The Language of Birds : Lines spoken 
extempore, to a little child, in early spring M. P. 

Between 6--] 'I love, and I love,' almost all the birds say 

From sunrise to star-rise, so gladsome are they. M. P. 
After lo "Tis no wonder that he '.s full of joy to the brim. 

When He loves his Love, and his Love loves him. M. P. 
Line lo is adai)ted from the refrain of Prior's Song (' One morning very 
early, one morning in the spring '):—' I love my love, because I know 
my love loves me.' 


As ever made these eyes grow idly bright ! 

And though I weep, yet still around my heart 
A sweet and playful tenderness doth linger, 5 

Touching my heart as with an infant's finger. 

My mouth half open, like a witless man, 
I saw our couch, I saw our quiet room. 
Its shadows heaving by the fire-light gloom ; 
And o'er my lips a subtle feeling ran, lo 

All o'er my lips a soft and breeze-like feeling — 
I know not what — but 'had the same been stealing 

Upon a sleeping mother's lips, I guess 

It would have made the loving mother dream 

That she was softly bending down to kiss 15 

Her babe, that something more than babe did seem, 

A floating presence of its darling father. 

And yet its own dear baby self far rather ! 

Across my chest there lay a weight, so warm ! 

As if some bird had taken shelter there ; 20 

And lo ! I seemed to see a woman's form — 

Thine, Sara, thine ? O joy, if thine it w^ere ! 
I gazed with stifled breath, and feared to stir it, 

No deeper trance e'er wrapt a yearning spirit I 

And now, when I seemed sure tky face to see, 25 

Thy own dear self in our own quiet home ; 

There came an elfish laugh, and wakened me: 
'Twas Frederic, who behind my chair had clomb, 

And with his bright eyes at my face was peeping. 

I blessed him, tried to laugh, and fell a-weeping ! 30 

in the Morning Pust in 1802, but was doubtless composed in Germany. It 
seems to have been forgotten by its author, for this was the only 
occasion on which it saw tlie light through him. The Editors think 
that it will plead against parental neglect in the mind of most readers.' 
Internal evidence seems to point to 1801 or 1802 as the most jjrobable 
date of composition. 

Bduw line 30 E2TH2E. 





Oft, oft methiuks, the while with thee, 

I breathe, as from the heart, thy dear 

And dedicated name, I hear 
A promise and a mystery, 

A pledge of more than passing life, 5 

Yea, in that very name of Wife ! 

A pulse of love, that ne'er can sleep ! 

A feeling that upbraids the heart 

With happiness beyond desert, 
That gladness half requests to weep ! 10 

Nor bless I not the keener sense 

And unalarming turbulence 

Of transient joys, that ask no sting 

From jealous fears, or coy denying ; 

But born beneath Love's brooding wing, 15 

And into tenderness soon dying, 

Wheel out their giddy moment, then 

Resign the soul to love again ; — 

A more precipitated vein 

Of notes, that eddy in the flow 20 

Of smoothest song, they come, they go. 

And leave their sweeter understrain. 
Its own sweet self — a love of Thee 
That seems, yet cannot greater be I 

? 1802. 

' First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : included in 1828, 1829, 
1834. There is no evidence as to the date of composition. 

13 ask] fear S. L. (for /car no sting read ask no sting Errata, p. [xi]). 



Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, 

It hath not been my use to pray 

With moving lips or bended knees ; 

But silently, by slow degrees, 

My spirit I to Love compose, 5 

In humble trust mine eye-lids close. 

With reverential resignation, 

No wish conceived, no thought exprest, 

Only a sense of supplication ; 

A sense o'er all my soul imprest ro 

That I am weak, yet not unblest. 

Since in me, round me, every where 

Eternal Strength and Wisdom are. 

But yester-night I prayed aloud 

In anguish and in agony, 15 

Up-starting from the fiendish crowd 

Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me : 

A lurid light, a trampling throng, 

Sense of intolerable wrong. 

And whom I scorned, those only strong ! 20 

1 First published, together with CJiristahd, in 1816: included in 1828, 
1829, i. 334-6 (but not in Contents), and 1834. A first draft of these lines 
was sent in a Letter to Southey, Sept. 11, 1803 {Letters of S. T. C, 1895, 
i. 435-7). An amended version of lines 18-32 was included in an 
unpublished Letter to Poole, dated Oct. 3, 1803. 

I Ere] When MS. Letter to Southetj, Sept. 11, 1803. 9 sense] sense MS. 

Letter to Southey, 1816, 1828, 1829. 10 sense] sense MS. Letter to Southey. 

12 Since round me, in me, everywhere MS. Letter to Southey. 13 Wisdom] 
Goodness MS. Letter to Southey. 16 Up-starting] Awaking MS. Letter to 

Between 18-26 Desire with loathing strangely mixt. 
On wild or hateful objects fixt. 
Sense of revenge, the powerless will, 
Still baffled and consuming still ; 
Sense of intolerable wrong. 
And men whom I despis'd made strong ! 
Vain-glorious threats, unmanly vaunting, 
Bad men my boasts and fury taunting : 
Rage, sensual passion, mad'ning Brawl, 

MS. Letter to Southey. 
18 trampling] ghastly MS. Letter to Poole, Oct. S, 1803. 19 intolerable] 

insufferable MS. Letter to Poole. 20 those] they MS. Letter to Poole. 


Thirf^t of revonf]:*'. tlio powerless will 

Still l>nftlp«l, :in<l yet burning still! 

Desire with loathing strangely mixed 

On wild or hateful objects fixed. 

Fantastic passions! maddening brawl! 25 

And sliame and terror over all ! 

Deeds to he hid which were not hid, 

Which all confused I could not know 

Whether I sufl'crod, or I did : 

For all seemed guilt, remorse or woe, 30 

My own or others still the same 

Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame. 

So two nights passed : the night's dismay 

Saddened and sturxned the coming day. 

Sleep, the wide blessing, seemed to me 35 

Distemper's w^orst calamity. 

The third night, when my own loud scream 

Had waked me from the fiendish dream, 

O'ercome with sufferings strange and wild, 

I wept as I had been a child ; 40 

And having thus by tears subdued 

My anguish to a milder mood, 

Such punishments, I said, were due 

To natures deepliest stained with sin, — 

For aye entempesting anew 45 

The unfathomable hell within, 

The horror of their deeds to view, 

To know and loathe, yet wish and do ! 

Between 22-4 

Tempestuous pride, vain-glorious vaunting 
Base men my vices justly taunting MS. Letter to Poole. 
27 which] that MS. Letters to Souihey and Poole. 28 could] might 

MS. Letters to Southey and Poole. 30 For all was Horror, Guilt, and Woe 

MS. Letter to Southey : For all was Guilt, and Shame, and Woe MS. Letter to 
Poole. 23 ^o'] Thws MS. Letter to Southey. 34 coming] boding 3f.^. 

Letter to Southey. 

35-6 I fear'd to sleep : sleep s^eem'd to be 

Disease's worst malignity MS. Letter to Southey. 
38 waked] freed MS. Letter to Southey. 39 O'ercome by sufferings 

dark and wild MS. Letter to Southey. 42 anguish] Trouble MS. Letter to 

Southey. 43 said] thought MS. Letter to Southey. 

45-6 Still to be stirring up anew 

The self-created Hell within MS. Letter to Southey. 
47 their deeds] the crimes MS. Letter to Southey. 48 and] to MS. 

Letter to Southey. 




Such griefs with such men well agree, 

But wherefore, wherefore fall on nie ? 50 

To be beloved is all I need, 

And whom I love, I love indeed. 


We pledged our hearts, my love and T, — 

I in my arms the maiden clasping ; 
I could not guess the reason why. 

But, oh ! I trembled like an aspen. 

Her father's love she bade me gain; 5 

I went, but shook like any reed ! 
I strove to act the man — in vain ! 

We had exchanged our hearts indeed. 



This be the meed, that thy song creates a thousand-fold echo ! 
Sweet as the warble of woods, that awakes at the gale of the 
morning ! 

^ First published in the Courier, April 16, 1804 : included in the Poetical 
Register for 1804 (1805) ; reprinted in Literary Souvenir for 1826, p. 408, 
and in Literary Bemains, 1836, i. 59. First collected in 1844. 

2 First published in P. W., 1893. These lines were found in one of 
Coleridge's Notebooks (No. 24). The first draft immediately follows the 

Beticeen 48-51 

With such let fiends make mockery — 
But I — Oh, wherefore this on me'i 
Frail is my soul, yea, strengthless wholly. 
Unequal, restless, melancholy. 

But free from Hate and sensual Folly. MS. Letter to Soufhe.y. 
51 be] live MS. Letter to Southey. After 52 And etc., etc., etc., etc. 

MS. Letter to Southey. 

The Exchange— Title] The Exchange of Hearts Courier, 1804. 2 Me in 

her arms Courier, 1804. 3 guess] tell Lit. Souvenir, Lit. Rem., 1844. 

5 Her father's leave Courier, 1804, P. R. 1804, 1898. 6 but] and Lit. 

Souvenir, Lit. Rem., 1844. 

Ad Vilmum, &c.— i foil. 
What is the meed of thy song? 'Tis the ceaseless the thousandfold echo, 
Which from the welcoming Hearts of the Pure repeats and prolongs it- 
Each with a different Tone, compleat or in musical fragments. 

This be the meed, that thy Song awakes to a thousandfold echo 
Welcoming Hearts ; is it their voice or is it thy own ? 


List : the IIr:nt^ (»t' ill*' Pur.\ like caves in the nnciont moun- 
Deep, deep in the Bosom, and from the Bosom resound it, 
Each with a different tone, complete or in musical fragments — 5 
All have welcomed thy Voice, and receive and retain and 
prolong it I 

Tliis is the word of the Lord ! it is spoken, and Beings Eternal 
Live anil are Ijorne as an Lilant ; the Eternal hegets the 

Immortal : 
Love is the Spirit of Life, and Music the Life of the Spirit! 
? 1805. 


Friend. Lover, Husband, Sister, Brother I 
Dear names close in upon each other I 
Alas ! poor Fancy's bitter-sweet — 
Our names, and but our names can meet. 


[translated from mariniJ 

Lady, to Death we're doom'd, our crime the same ! 
Thou, that in me thou kindled'st such fierce heat ; 
I, that my heart did of a Sun so sweet 
The rays concentre to so hot a flame. 

transcription of a series of Dante's Cansoni begun at Malta in 1805. If tlie 
Hexameters were composed at the same time, it is possible that they were 
inspired by a pei-usal or re-perusal of a MS. copy of Wordsworth's un- 
published poems which had been made for his use whilst he was abroad. 
As Mr. Campbell points out (P. W., p. 614), Wordsworth himself was 
responsible for the Latinization of his name. A Sonnet on seeing Miss Helen 
Maria Williams xoeeping at a tale of distress, which was published in the 
European Magazine for March, 1787, is signed ' Axiologus '. 

1 First published, with title 'An Exile', in 1893. These lines, without 
title or heading, are inserted in one of Coleridge's Malta Notebooks. 

2 First published in 1893. For the Italian original, 'Alia Sua Amico,' 
Sonetto, vide Appendices of this Edition. 

Lost ! the Hearts of the Pure, like caves in the ancient mountains 
Deep, deep in the bosom, and /rom the bosom resound it, 
Each with a different tone, compleat or in musical fragments. 
Meet the song they receive, and retain and resound and prolong it ! 
Welcoming Souls ! is it their voice, sweet Poet, or is it thy own voice? 

Drafts in Notebook. 


I, fascinated by an Adder's eye — 5 

Deaf as an Adder thon to all my pain ; 
Thou obstinate in Scorn, in Passion I — 
I lov'd too much, too much didst thou disdain. 
Hear then our doom in Hell as just as stern, 
Our sentence equal as our crimes conspire — lo 

Who living bask'd at Beauty's eaithly fire, 
In living flames eternal these must burn — 
Hell for us both fit places too supplies — 
In my heart thou wilt burn, I roafit before thine eyes. 
? 1805. 


All look and likeness caught from earth, 
All accident of kin and birth, 
Had pass'd away. There was no trace 
Of aught on that illumined face, 
Uprais'd beneath the rifted stone 5 

But of one spirit all her own ; — 
She, she herself, and only she, 
Shone through her body visibly. 


Upon the mountain's edge with light touch resting. 
There a brief while the globe of splendour sits 

* These lines, without title or heading, are quoted ('vide . . . my lines') 
in an entry in one of Coleridge's Malta Notebooks, dated Feb. 8, 1805, to 
illustrate the idea that the love-sense can be abstracted from the 
accidents of form or person (see Anima Poefae, 1895, p. 120). It follows 
that they were written before that date. Phantom was first published 
in 1834, immediately following (ii. 71) Phantom or Fact. A dialogue in 
Verse, which was first published in 1828, and was probably written 
about that time. Both poems are ' fragments from the life of dreams ' ; 
but it was the reality which lay behind both 'phantom' and 'fact 'of 
which the poet dreamt, having his eyes open. With lines 4, 5 compare 
the following stanza of one of the MS. versions of the Dark Ladie : — 

Against a grey stone rudely carv'd 

The statue of an armed knight. 

She lean'd in melancholy mood 
To watch ['d] the lingering Light. 
2 First published in 1893. The title 'A Sunset' was prefixed by the 
Editor. These lines are inscribed in one of Coleridge's Malta Note- 

A Sunset -1 with light touch] all lightly MS. 

3«.»4 A SUNSET 

And s<Mins a crpaturc of the «'arth : ))iit f^ocni 
Moro (•liaiic:«'ful tlian the INIooii, 
To wane fantastic his groat orl> su))niits, 5 

Or cono or mow of fire: till sinking slowly 
Even to a star at length he lessens wholly. 

Abrupt, as Spirits vanish, he is sunk ! 
A soul like breeze possesses all the wood. 

Tlie houghs, the sprays have stood 10 

As motionless as stands the ancient trunk ! 
But every leaf through all the forest flutters, 
And deep the cavern of the fountain mutters. 


Resembles life what once was deemVl of light. 
Too ample in itself for human sight? 
An absolute self — an element ungrounded — 
All that we see, all colours of all shade 

By encroach of darkness made? — 5 

Is very life by consciousness unbounded ? 
And all the thoughts, pains, joys of mortal breath, 
A war-embrace of wrestling life and death? 

books. The following note or comment is attached: — 'These lines I 
wrote as nonsense verses merely to try a metre ; but they are by no 
means contemptible ; at least in reading them I arn surprised at finding 
them so good. 16 Aug., 1805, Malta. 

' Now will it be a more English music if the first and fourth are double 
rhymes and the 5th and 6th single ? or all single, or the 2nd and 
3rd double ? Try.' They were afterwards sent to William Worship, 
Esq., Yarmoutli, in a letter dated April 22, 1819, as an unpublished 

^ First published in Literary Souvenir, 1829 : included in Literary Remains, 
1836, i. 60. First collected in 1844. These lines, 'written in the same 
manner, and for the same purpose, but of course with more conscious 
effort than the two stanzas on the preceding leaf,' are dated ' 16 August, 
1805, the day of the Valetta Horse-racing — bells jangling, and stupefying 
music playing all day'. Afterwards, in 1819, Coleridge maintained that 
they were written ' between the age of 15 and 16 '. 

4 the] this MS. 6 A distant Hiss of fire MS. alternative reading. 

7 lessens] lessened MS. 12 flutters] fluttered MS. 13 mutters] 

muttered MS. 

What is Life?—i deem'd] held Lit. Souvenir, 1S29. 2 ample] simple iV.S. 
\ per 3C (in its own Nature) 

6 i Is Life itself 3/. S. 




I SEEM to have an indistinct recollection of having read either in one 
of the ponderous tomes of George of Venice, or in some other compilation 
from the uninspired Hebrew writers, an apologue or Rabbinical tradition 
to the following purpose : 

While our first parents stood before their offended Maker, and the last 5 
words of the sentence were yet sounding in Adam's ear, the guileful false 
serpent, a counterfeit and a usurper from the beginning, presumptuously 
took on himself the character of advocate or mediator, and pretending to 
intercede for Adam, exclaimed : 'Nay, Lord, in thy justice, not so! for 
the man was the least in fault. Rather let the Woman return at once to 10 
the dust, and let Adam remnin in this thy Paradise.' And the word of 
the Most High answered Satan : ' The tender mercies of the xvickcd are cruel. 
Treacherous Fiend ! if with guilt like thine, it had been possible for thee 
to have the heart of a Man, and to feel the yearning of a human soul for 
its counterpart, the sentence, which thou now counsellest, should have 15 
been inflicted on thyself.' 

The title of the following poem was suggested by a fact mentioned by 
Linnaeus, of a date-tree in a nobleman's garden which year after year 
had put forth a full show of blossoms, but never produced fruit, till a 
branch from another date-tree had been conveyed from a distance of 20 
some hundred leagues. The first leaf of the MS. from which the poem 
lias been transcribed, and which contained the two or three introductory 
stanzas, is wanting : and the author has in vain taxed his memory to 
repair the loss. But a nide draught of the poem contains the substance 
of the stanzas, and the reader is requested to receive it as the substitute. 25 
It is not impossible, that some congenial spirit, whose years do not 
exceed those of the Author at the time the poem was written, may find 
a pleasure in restoring the Lament to its original integrity by a reduction 
of the thoughts to the requisite metre. S. T. C. 

» First published in 1828: included in 1829 and 1834. 

5 stood] were yet standing 1828. 8 mediator] moderator 1828. 

9 The words *not so ' are omitted in 1828. 11 remain here all the days 
of his now mortal life, and enjoy the respite thou mayest grant him, in this 
thy Paradise which thou gavest to him, and hast planted with evei-y tree 
pleasant to the sight of man and of delicious fruitage. 1828. 13 foil. 

Treacherous Fiend I guilt deep as thine could not be, yet the love of kind 
not extinguished. But if having done what thou hast done, thou hadst 
yet the heart of man within thee, and the yearning of the soul for its 
answering image and completing counterpart, O spirit, desperately 
wicked ! the sentence thou counsellest had been thy own ! 1828. 
20 from a Date tree 1828, 1829. 

39f; l',L()SS()>[IN(; OF SOLirAKV DATK-TREK 

Hfnkatu the bla/o of ;i troi)ical sun the mountain i)eaks are ?.o 
the Thrones of Frost, tlirough the absence of objects to reflect 
tlie rays. * Wliat no one witli us shares, seems scarce our own.' 
'J'lie presence of a one, 

Thf lifvt ItfluvM. who l(.v<th mo the best, 

is for the lieart, what the supporting air from within is for the 3.^ 
|jolh)w glolie with its suspended car. Deprive it of this, and 
all without, that would have buoyed it aloft even to the seat 
of the gods, becomes a burthen and crushes it into flatness. 

The finer the sense for the beautiful and the lovely, and the 
fairer and lovelier the o})ject presented to the sense ; the more 40 
exquisite the individual's capacity of joy. and the more ample 
his means and opportunities of enjoyment, the more heavily 
will he feel the ache of solitariness, the more unsubstantial 
becomes the feast spread around him. What matters it, 
wiiether in fact the viands and the ministering graces are 45 
shadowy or real, to him who has not hand to grasp nor arms 
to embrace them ? 

Imagination ; honourable aims ; 

Free commune with the choir that cannot die ; 

Science and song ; delight in little things, 50 

The buoyant child surviving in the man ; 

Fields, forests, ancient mountains, ocean, sky, 

With all their voices — O dare I accuse 

My earthly lot as guilty of my spleen, 

Or call my destiny niggard ! no ! no ! 55 

It is her largeness, and her overflo^w, 

Which being incomplete, disquieteth me so ! 

For never touch of gladness stirs my heart. 
But tim'rously beginning to rejoice 

Like a blind Arab, that from sleep doth start 60 

In lonesome tent, I listen for thy voice. 

48 Hope, Imagination, &c. 18QS. 53 Witli all their voices mute — 

O dare I accuse 1S2S. 55 Or call my niggard destiny ! No ! No ! 1S28. 

61 thy] thy 1828, 1829. 


Beloved ! 'tis not thine ; thou art not there ! 

Then melts the bubble into idle air, 

And wishing without hope I restlessly despair. 

The mother with anticipated glee 65 

Smiles o'er the child, that, standing by her chair 
And flatt'niiig its round cheek ui)on her knee, 
Looks up, and doth its rosy lips prepare 
To mock the coming sounds. At that sweet sight 
She hears her own voice with a new delight ; 70 

And if the babe perchance should lisp the notes aright, 


Then is she tenfold gladder than before I 

But should disease or chance the darling take, 

What then avail those songs, which sweet of yore 

Were only sweet for their sweet echo's sake? 75 

Dear maid ! no prattler at a mother's knee 

Was e'er so dearly prized as I prize thee : 

Why was I made for Love and Love denied to me? 



A swoRDED man whose trade is blood, 

In grief, in anger, and in fear, 
Thro' jungle, swamp, and torrent Hood, 

I seek the wealth you hold so dear ! 

^ First published in 1834. In Pickering's one volume edition of the 
issue of 1848 the following note is printed on j). 372 : — 

'The fourth and last stanzas are adapted from the twelfth and last of 
Cotton's Chlorinda [Ode] : — 

' my Chlorinda ! could'st thou see 
Into the bottom of my heart, 
There's such a Mine of Love for thee. 
The Treasure would supply desert. 

Meanwhile my Exit now draws nigli. 
When, sweet Chlorinda, thou shalt see 
That I have heart enough to die, 
Not half enough to part with thee. 

' The fifth stanza is tlie eleventli of Cotton's poem.' 

In 1852 (p. 385) the note reads : 'The fourth and last stanzas are from 
Ci)tt(ni's Chlorinda, with very slight alteration.' 

77 thee] ihce 1828, 182V. 


Tli«' (la/zlini; iliaini of outward form, 5 

The power of gold, the pride of birth, 

Have taken Wonuui's heai't by storm — 
Usiirp'd the place of inward Avorth. 

Is not true Love of higher price 

Than outward Form, though fair to see, lo 

\Vealtirs glittering fairy-dome of ice, 

Or echo of proud ancestry ? — 

O ! Asra, Asra I couldst thou see 

Into the bottom of my heart, 
There's such a mine of Love for thee, 15 

As almost might supply desert I 

(This separation is, alas I 

Too great a punishment to bear ; 
I take my life, or let me pass 

That life, that happy life, with her !) 20 

A lic.'st draft of this adajjlation is contained in one <if Coleridge's 
Malta Notebooks : — 

Made worthy by excess of Love 
A wretch thro' power of Happiness, 
And poor from wealth I da)-e not u&o. 

This separation etc. 

The Pomp of Wealth 
Storoci of Gold, the pomp of - Wealth 
Nor Ic c i s the Pride of Noble Birth 
The dazzling charm etc. 
(1. 4) Supplied the place etc. 


Is not true Love etc. 

A2PA : A2PA could'st thou see 

Into the bottom of my Heart ! 
There '« such a Mine of Love for Thee — 

The Treasure would supply desert. 

Death erst contemn'd — A2PA ! why 

Now terror-stricken do I see — 
Oh ! I have etc. 


The perils, erst with steadfast eye 
Encounter'd, now I shrink to see — 

Oh ! I have heart enough to die — 
Not half enough to part from Thee ! 

? 1805. 


Stbong spirit-bidding sounds ! 

With deep and hollow voice, 
'Twixt Hope and Dread, 
Seven Times I said 

lohva Mitzoveh 5 

Vohoeen ! - 
And up came an imp in the shape of a 
Pea-hen ! 
I saw, I doubted, 

And seven times spouted lo 

Johva Mitzoveh 
Yahoevohaen ! 
When Anti-Christ starting up, butting 

and baing, 
In the shape of a mischievous curly 15 

black Lamb — 
With a vast flock of Devils behind 
and beside. 
And before 'em their Shepherdess 

Lucifer's Dam, 30 

Riding astride 
On an old black Ram, 

^ Now first printed from one of Coleridge's Notebooks. The last stanza 
— the Epilogue — was first published by H. N. Coleridge as j^art of an 
' Uncomposed Poem', in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 52: first collected in 
Appendix to P. and D. W., 1877-80, ii. 366. There is no conclusive 
evidence as to the date of composition. The handwriting, and the 
contents of the Notebook might suggest a date between 1813 and 1816. 
The verses are almost immediately preceded by a detached note printed 
at the close of an essay entitled ' Self-love in Religion' which is included 
among the ' Omniana of 1809', Literary Remains, 1834, i. 354-6 : ' magical, 
sympathetic, animal [Archeus, MS.'] 2Jrincipium hylarchichum ! rationes sper- 
maticce! \6yoi iroirjTiKoi ! formidable words I And Man ! thou marvellous 
beast-angel ! thou ambitious beggar I How pompously dost thou trick out 
thy very ignorance with such glorious disguises, that thou mayest seem to 
hide in order to worship it.' 

With this piece as a whole compare Southey's 'Ballad of a Young Man 
that would read unlawful Books, and how he was punished '. 

2 A cabbalistic invocation of Jehovah, obscure in the original Hebrew. I 
am informed that the second word Mitzoveh may stand for 'from Sabaoth'. 


Witli Tartaiy stirrups, kiu'ts 14) to Iut chin. 

And ft sleek chrysom imp to her Dugs muzzled in. — 

* Gee-up, my old Belzy ! (she cried. 35 

As she sung to her suckling cub) 
Trit-a-trot, trot I we'll go far and wide 
Trot, Kam-Devii: Trot I Belzebub ! ' 
Her i>etticoat fine was of scarlet Brocade, 
And soft in her lap her Baby she lay'd 30 

\Vith his pretty Nubs of Horns a- 

And his pretty little Tail all curly-twirly — 
St. Dunstan ! and this comes of spouting — 

Of Devils what a Hurly-Burly ! 35 

'Behold we are up! what want'st thou then?' 
' Sirs I only that ' — ' Say when and what ' — 

* You'd be so good ' — ' Say what and when ' 
'This moment to get down again!' 

• We do it ! we do it ! we all get down I 40 
But we take you with us to swim 

or drown ! 
Down a down to the grim Engulpher ! ' 
' me ! I am floundering in Fire and Sulphur ! 
That the Dragon had scrounched you, squeal 45 

and squall — 
Cabbalists ! Conjurers ! great and small, 
Johva Mitzoveh Evohaen and all ! 
Had / never uttered your jaw-breaking words, 
I might now have been sloshing down Junket and Curds, 

Like a Devonshire Christian : 51 

But now a Philistine ! 

Ye Earthmen I be warned by a judgement so tragic. 
And wipe yourselves cleanly with all books of magic — 
Hark ! hark ! it is Dives ! * Hold your Bother, you Booby ! 
I am burnt ashy white, and you yet are but ruby.' 56 

We ask and urge (here ends the story) 

All Christian Papishes to pray 

That this unhappy Conjurer may 

Instead of Hell, be but in Purgatory — 60 

For then there 's Hope, — 

Long live the Pope ! 
? 1805, ? 1814, Catholicus. 



Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, 
God grant me grace my prayers to say: 
O God ! preserve my mother dear 
In strength and health for many a year ; 
And, O ! preserve my father too, 5 

And may I pay him reverence due ; 
And may I my best thoughts employ 
To be my parents' hope and joy ; 
And ! preserve my brothers both 
From evil doings and from sloth, lo 

And may we always love each other 
Our friends, our father, and our mother : 
And still, O Lord, to me impart 
An innocent and grateful heart. 
That after my great sleep I may 15 

Awake to thy eternal day ! Amen. 



Trochee trips from long to short ; 

From long to long in solemn sort 

Slow Spondee stalks ; strong foot ! yet ill able 

Ever to come up with Dactyl trisyllable. 

Iambics march from short to long ; — 5 

With a leap and a bound the awift Anap^sts throng ; 

^ First published in 1852. A transcript in the handwriting of 
Mrs. S. T. Coleridge is in the possession of the Editor. 

2 First published in 1834. The metrical lesson was begun for Hartley 
Coleridge in 1806 and, afterwards, finished or adapted for the use of his 
brother Derwent. The Editor possesses the autograph of a metrical 
rendering of the Greek alphabet, entitled 'A Greek Song set to Music, 
and sung by Hartley Coleridge, Esq., Graecologian, philometrist and 
philomelist '. 

3 mother] father MS. 5 father] mother MS. 6 him] her MS. 

7-8 And may I still my thoughts employ 

To be her comfort and her joy MS. 

9 likewise keep MS. 13 But chiefly, Lord MS. 15 great] last 

P. W. 1877-80, 1893. After 16 Our father, &c. MS. 

Metrical Feet — Title] The chief and most usual Metrical Feet expressed 
in metre and addressed to Hartley Coleridge MS. of Lines 1-7. 


Olio syllnl.lo long, witli one slioit at each side, 
Ainphlhr.icliys haste.s with a statnly stride; — 
First ami last being long. niTddh' sliOrt, AmphimUcer 
Strikes his thnndering hoofs like a proud high-bred Racer. 
If Derwent 1)6 innocent, steady, and wise. ii 

And delight in the things of earth, water, and skies; 
Tender warmth at liis heart, with these metres to show it, 
With sound sense in his brains, may make Derwent n poet, — 
May crown him with fame, and must win him the love 15 
Of his father on earth and his Father above. 

]\Iy dear, dear child ! 
Could you stand upon Skiddaw, you would not from its 

whole ridge 
See a man who so loves you as your fond S. T. Coleridge. 


Farew^ell, sweet Love ! yet blame you not my truth ; 

More fondly ne'er did mother eye her child 
Than I your form : yours were my hopes of youth, 

And as you shaped my thoughts I sighed or smiled. 

* First piiblished in the Courier, September 27, 1806, .and reprinted in 
tlie Morning Herald, October 11, 1806, and in the Gentleman's Magazine for 
November, 1815, vol. Ixxxv, p. 448 : included in Literary Remains, 1836, 
i. 280, and in Letters, Conversations, dc, [by T. Allsop], 1836, i, 143. First 
collected, appendix, 1863. This sonnet is modelled upon and in part 
borrowed from Lord Brooke's (Fulke Greville) Sonnet LXXIV of Coelica : 
and was inscribed on the margin of Charles Lamb's copy of Certain Learned 
and Elegant Works of the Right Honourable Fidke Lord Brooke . . . 1633, p. 284. 

' Ccrlica '. Sonnet Ixxiv. 
Fakewell sweet Boy, complaine not of my truth ; 
Thy Mother lov'd thee not with more devotion ; 
For to thy Boyes play I gave all my youth 
Yong Master, I did hope for your promotion. 

While some sought Honours, Princes thoughts observing, 
Many woo'd Fame, the child of paine and anguish, 
Others judg'd inward good a chiefe deserving, 
I in thy wanton Visions joy'd to languish. 

1-2 Farewell my Love! yet blame ye not my Truth; 

More fondly never mother ey'd her child MS. 1S06. 
Sweet power of Love, farewell ! nor blame my truth, 
More fondly never Mother ey'd her Child Courier, M. H. 
4 And as you wove the dream I sigh'd or smil'd MS. 1S06 : And as 
you wove my thoughts, I sigh'd or smil'd Couiier, M. H. 


While most were wooing wealth, or gaily swerving 5 

To pleasure's secret haunts, and some apart 

Stood strong in pride, self-conscious of deserving. 
To you I gave my whole weak wishing heart. 

And when I met the maid that realised 

Your fair creations, and had won her kindness, 10 

Say, but for her if aught on earth I prized ! 

Tour dreams alone I dreamt, and caught your blindness. 

grief ! — but farewell, Love ! I will go play me 
With thoughts that please me less, and less betray me. 



Friend of the wise ! and Teacher of the Good ! 
Into my heart have I received that Lay 

I bow'd not to thy image for succession, 
Nor bound thy bow to shoot reformed kindnesse. 
The playes of hope and feare were my confession 
The spectacles to my life was thy blindnesse : 

But Cupid now farewell, I will goe play me, 

With thoughts that please me lesse, and lesse betray me. 

For an adaptation of Sonnet XCIV, entitled ' Lines on a King-and- 
Emperor-Making King — altered from the 93rd Sonnet of Fulke Greville', 
vide Appendices of this edition. 

1 First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : included in 1828, 1829, 1834. 
The poem was sent in a Letter to Sir G. Beaumont dated January, 1807, 
and in this shape was first printed by Professor Knight in Coleorton Letters, 

5-7 While some sought Wealth ; others to Pleasure swerving, 
Many woo'd Fame : and some stood firm apart 
In joy of pride, self-conscious of deserving 3£8. 1806, Courier, M. H. 

6 haunts] haunt Z. R., Letters, dc, 18S6, 1863. 8 weak wishing] 

weak-wishing Courier, M. H. 9 that] who Courier, M. H. 13 will] 

must Courier, M. H. 

To William Wordsivorth — Title] To W. Wordsworth. Lines Composed, 
for the greater part on the Night, on which he finished the recitation of 
his Poem (in thirteen Books) concerning the growth and history of his 
own Mind, Jan. 7, 1807, Cole-orton, near Ashby de la Zouch MS. W. : 
To William Wordsworth. Composed for the greater part on the same 
night after the finishing of his recitation of the Poem in thirteen Books, 
on the Growth of his own Mind 3IS. B : To a Gentleman, &c. S. L. 
1823, 1829. 

I O Friend ! Teacher ! God's great gift to me ! MSS. W., B. 



Moro than historic, that prophetic Lay 

Wheri'in (liigh theme by theo first sung aright) 

Of tlie foundations and the building up 5 

Of ft Humnn Spirit thou hast dared to tell 

What may l)e told, to the understanding mind 

Rovealable ; and what within the mind 

By vital breathings secret as the soul 

Of vernal growth, oft quickens in the heart 10 

Thoughts all too deep for words ! — 

Theme hard as high ! 
Of smiles spontaneous, and mysterious fears 
(The first-born they of Reason and twin-birth), 
Of tides obedient to external force. 

And currents self-determined, as might seem, 15 

Or by some inner Power ; of moments awful, 
Now in thy inner life, and now abroad, 

1887, i. 213-18; and as Appendix H, pp. 525-6, of P. W., 1893 {MS. B.). 
An earlier version of about the same date was given to Wordsworth, and 
is now in the possession of his grandson, Mr. Gordon Wordsworth 
{MS. W.). The text of Sibylline Leaves differs widely from that of the 
original MSS. Lines 11-47 are quoted in a Letter to Wordsworth, dated 
May 30, 1815 {Lettets of S. T. C, 1895, i. 646-7), and lines 65-75 at the end 
of Chapter X of the Biographia Liferaria, 1817, i. 220, 

Behceen 5-13 Of thy own Spirit, thou hast lov'd to tell 

What may be told, to th' understanding mind 
Revealable ; and what within the mind 
May rise enkindled. Theme as hard as high ! 
Of Smiles spontaneous and mysterious Fear. MS. W. 
Of thy own spirit thou hast loved to tell 
What may be told, by words revealable ; 
With heavenly breathings, like the secret soul 
Of vernal growth, oft quickening in the heart, 
. Thoughts that obey no mastery of words, 
Pure self-beholdings ! theme as hard as high, 
Of smiles spontaneous and mysterious fear. MS. B. 

9 By vital breathings like the secret soul S. L. 182S. 16 Or by 

interior power MS. W : Or by some central breath MS. Letter, 1815. 17 

inner] hidden MSS. W., B. 

Befueen 17-41 Mid festive crowds, thy Brows too garlanded, 
A Brother of the Feast : of Fancies fair, 
Hyblaean murmurs of poetic Thought, 
Industrious in its Joy, by lilied Streams 
Native or outland, Lakes and famous Hills ! 
Of more than Fancy, of the Hope of Man 
Amid the tremor of a Realm aglow — 
Where France in all her Towns lay vibrating 


When power streamed from thee, and thy soul received 

The light reflected, as a light bestowed — 

Of fancies fair, and milder hours of youth, 20 

Hyblean murmurs of poetic thought 

Industrious in its joy, in vales and glens 

Native or outland, lakes and famous hills ! 

Or on the lonely high-road, when the stars 

Were rising; or by secret mountain-streams, 25 

The guides and the companions of thy way ! 

Of more than Fancy, of the Social Sense 

Distending wide, and man beloved as man. 

Where France in all her towns lay vibrating 

Like some becalmed bark beneath the burst 30 

Of Heaven's immediate thunder, when no cloud 

Is visible, or shadow on the main. 

For thou wert there, thine own brows garlanded. 

Amid the tremor of a realm aglow. 

Amid a mighty nation jubilant, 35 

When from the general heart of human kind 

Hope sprang forth like a full-born Deity ! 

Of that dear Hope afflicted and struck down. 

So summoned homeward, thenceforth calm and sure 
From the dread watch-tower of man's absolute self, 40 

Ev'n as a Bark becalmM on sultry seas 

Beneath the voice from Heav'n, the bursting crash 

Of Heaven's immediate thunder I ivhen no cloud 

Is visible, or Shadoiv oti the Main I 

Ah ! soon night roll'd on night, and every Cloud 

Open'd its eye of Fire : and Hope aloft 

Now flutter'd, and now toss'd upon the storm 

Floating ! Of Hope afflicted and struck doivn 

Thence summoned homeward — homeward to thy Heart, 

Oft from the Watch-tower of Man's absolute self, 

With light, &c. MS. W. 

27 social sense MS. B. 28 Distending, and of man MS. B. 

29-30 Even as a bark becalm'd on sultry seas 

Quivers beneath the voice from Heaven, the burst MS. B. 

30 Ev'n as a bark becalm'd beneath the burst 

MS. Letter, 1815, S. L. 1828. 

33 thine] thy MS. B., MS. Letter, 1815. 37 a full-born] an armed 

MS. B. 38 Of that dear hope afflicted and amazed MS. Letter, 1815. 

39 So homeward summoned MS. Letter, 1815. 40 As from the watch- 

tower MS. B. 

\()(\ I'o WILLIAM woKDswoirni 

Witli li^lit uinvainn.i: <>n lier eyes, to look 

Far on— horsflf a glory to bcliold. 

The Angel of the vision I Then (last strain) 

Of Duty, chosen Laws controlling choice, 

Action and joy ! -An Orphic song indeed, 45 

A song divine of high and passionate thoughts 

To their own music chaunted ! 

O great Bard ! 
Ere yet tliat last strain dying awed the air, 
With stedfast eye I viewed thee in the choir 
Of ever-enduring men. The truly great 50 

Have all one age, and from one visible space 
Shed influence ! They, both in power and act. 
Are permanent, and Time is not with them. 
Save as it worketh for them, they in it. 
Nor less a sacred Boll, than those of old, 55 

And to be placed, as they, with gradual fame 
Among the archives of mankind, thy work 
Makes audible a linked lay of Truth, 
Of Truth profound a sweet continuous lay, 
Not learnt, but native, her ow^n natural notes I 60 

Ah ! as I listened with a heart forlorn, 

44 controlling] ? impelling, ? directing MS. W. 

45-6 Virtue and Love — an Orphic Tale indeed 

A Tale divine MS. W. 

45 song] tale MS. B. 46 song] tale MS. B. thoughts] truths MS. 
Letter, 1815. 

47-9 Ah ! great Bard 

Ere yet that last swell dying aw'd the air 
With stedfast ken I viewed thee in the choir MS. W. 
48 that] the MS. B. 49 With steadfast eyes I saw thee MS. B. 

52 for they, both power and act MS. B. 53 them] ihe7n S. L. 1828, 1820. 
54 for them, they in it S. L. 1828, 1829. 58 lay] song MSS. W., B. 

59 lay] song MSS. W., B. 

61 foil. Dear shall it be to every human heart, 

To me how more than dearest ! me, on whom 

Comfort from thee, and utterance of thy love. 

Came with such heights and depths of harmony. 

Such sense of wings uplifting, that the storm 5 

Scatter'd and whirl'd mo, till my thoughts became 

A bodily tumult ; and thy faithful hopes. 

Thy hopes of me, dear Friend ! by me unfelt ! 

Were troublous to me, almost as a voice, 

Familiar once, and more than musical ; 10 

To one cast forth, whose hope had seem'd to die 

A wanderer with a worn-out heart 


The pulses of my being beat anew : 

And even as Life returns upon the drowned, 

Life's joy rekindling roused a throng of pains — 

Keen pangs of Love, awakening as a babe 65 

Turbulent, with an outcry in the heart ; 

And fears self-willed, that shunned the eye of Hope ; 

And Hope that scarce would know itself from Fear ; 

Sense of past Youth, and Manhood come in vain, 

And Genius given, and Knowledge won in vain ; 70 

And all which I had culled in wood-walks wild. 

And all which patient toil had reared, and all. 

Commune with thee had opened out — but flowers 

Strewed on my corse, and borne upon my bier, 

In the same coffin, for the self-same grave ! 75 

That way no more ! and ill beseems it me, 
Who came a welcomer in herald's guise. 
Singing of Glory, and Futurity, 
To wander back on such unhealthful road. 
Plucking the poisons of self-harm I And ill 80 

Such intertwine beseems triumphal wreaths 
Strew'd ])efore thy advancing ! 

Nor do thou. 
Sage Bard ! impair the memory of that hour 
Of thy communion with my nobler mind 
By pity or grief, already felt too long ! S5 

Nor let my words import more blame than needs. 
The tumult rose and ceased : for Peace is nigh 

Mid strangers pining with untended wounds. 

O Friend, too well thou know'st, of what sad years 

The long suppression had benumb VI my soul, 15 

That even as life returns upon the drown'd. 

The unusual joy awoke a throng of pains — 

Keen pangs, &c. MSS. B, W ivith the folloioing variants: — 

11. 5-6 Such sense of wings uplifting, that its might 

Scatter'd and quell'd me — MS. B. 

11. II, 12 As a dear woman's voice to one cast forth 
A wanderer with a worn-out heart forlorn. 

73 thee] thee S. L. 1828, 1829, 74 Strewed] Strewn MS. B., 1828, 1829. 

82 thy] thy S. L. 1828, 1829. 

82-3 Thou too, Friend ! 

O injure not the memory of that hour MS. W. 

Thou too, Friend ! 
Impair thou not the memory of that Hour MS. B. 


Where Wisdom's voice has found a listening heart. 
Amid tlic liowl of more than wintry storms, 
Tlie Ilak'von hears the voice of vernal hours 90 

Already on the wing. 

Eve following eve, 
Dear tranquil time, when tlie sweet sense of Home 
Is sweetest ! moments for their own &ike hailed 
And more desired, more precious, for thy song. 
In silence listening, like a devout child, 95 

My soul lay passive, by thy various strain 
Driven as in surges now beneath the stars, 
With momentary stars of my own birth, 
Fair constellated foam,' still darting off 
Into the darkness ; now a tranquil sea, 100 

Outspread and bright, yet swelling to the moon. 

And when — Friend I my comforter and guide ! 
Strong in thyself, and powerful to give strength I — 
Thy long sustained Song finally closed, 
And thy deep voice had ceased — yet thou thy.'5elf 105 
Wert still before my eyes, and round us both 
That happy vision of beloved faces — 
Scarce conscious, and yet conscious of its close 
I sate, my being blended in one thought 
(Thought was it? or aspiration? or resolve?) no 

Absorbed, yet hanging still upon the sound — 
And when 1 rose, I found myself in prayer. 
January, 1807. 

* 'A beautiful white cloud of Foam at momentary intervals coursed by 
the side of the Vessel with a Roar, and little stars of flame danced and 
sparkled and went out in it : and every now and then light detachments 
of this white cloud-like foam dashed ott' from the vessel's side, each with 
its own small constellation, over the Sea, and scoured out of sight like a 
Tartar Troop over a wilderness.' The Friend, p. 220. [From Satyrane's First 
Letter, published in The Friend, No. 14, Nov. 23, 1809.] 

93 Becomes most sweet ! hours for their own sake hail'd MS. W. 
96 thy] the MS. B. 98 my] her MS. B. 102 and] my MSS. W., B. 
104 Song] lay MS. W. 106 my] mine MSS. W., B. 

Betxceen 107-8 

(All whom I deepliest love— in one room all I) MSS. W., B. 



Within these circling hollies woodbine-clad — 
Beneath this small blue roof of vernal sky — 
How warm, how still ! Tho' tears should dim mine eye, 
Yet will my heart for days continue glad. 
For here, my love, thou art, and here am I ! 


How warm this woodland wild Recess ! 

Love surely hath been breathing here ; 

And this sweet bed of heath, my dear ! 
Swells up, then sinks with faint caress, 

As if to have you yet more near. 5 


Eight springs have flown, since last I lay 
On sea-ward Quantock's heathy hills, 
Where quiet sounds from hidden rills 

Float here and there, like things astray, 

And high o'er head the sky-lark shrills. lo 

1 First published in Literary Remains, 1836, i. 280. First collected in 
P. and D. W., 1877-80. The title was prefixed to the Poems of Coleridge 
(illustrated edition), 1907. This 'exquisite fragment. . . was probably 
com})Osed as the opening of Recollections of Love, and abandoned on account 
of a change of metre.' — Editor's Note, 189o (p. 685). It is in no way a trans- 
lation, but the thought or idea was suggested by one of the German 
stanzas which Coleridge selected and copied into one of his Notebooks as 
models or specimens of various metres. For the original, vide Appendices 
of this edition. 

2 First published in Sihijlline Leaves, 1817 : included in 1828, 1829, and 
1834. It is impossible to fix the date of composition, though internal 
evidence points to July, 1807, when Coleridge revisited Stowey after a long 
absence. The first stanza, a variant of the preceding fragment, is intro- 
duced into a prose fancy, entitled ' Questions and Answers in the Court 
of Love', of uncertain date, but perhaps written at Malta in 1805 (vide 
Appendices of this edition). A first draft of stanzas 1-4 (vide supra) is 
included in the collection of metrical experiments and metrical schemes, 
modelled on German and Italian originals, which seems to have been 
begun in 1801, with a view to a projected 'Essay on Metre'. Stanzas 
5, 6 are not contemporary with stanzas 1-4, and, perhaps, date from 
1814, 1815, when SUnjUinc Leaves were being prepared for the press. 



No voice as yot had made the air 
Be music with your name ; yet wliy 
That asking look? that yearning sigh? 

That sense of promise every wliere? 
Beloved ! flew your si)irit by ? 

As when a motlier doth explore 

The rose-mark on her long-lost child, 
I met, I loved you, maiden mild ! 

As whom I long had loved before — 
So deeply had I been beguiled. 

You stood before me like a thought, 

A dream remembered in a dream. 

But when those meek eyes first did seem 
To tell me, Love within you wrought — 

Greta, dear domestic stream ! -25 


Has not, since then, Love's prompture deep. 
Has not Love's whisper evermore • 
Been ceaseless, as thy gentle roar? 
Sole voice, when other voices sleep, 

Dear under-song in clamor's hour. 30 



[Mauy Mukgan and Chaulotte Brent] 
A wanderer's farewell 

To know, to esteem, to love, — and then to part — 
Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart ; 
Alas for some abiding-place of love, 
O'er which my spirit, like the mother dove, 
Might Ijrood with warming wings ! 

fair! O kind! 5 

' Fii-.'^t published in The Courivr, December 10, 1807, with the signature 
SIESTI. First collected in K and D. W., 1877-80. The following 


Sisters in blood, yet each with each intwined 

More close by sisterhood of heart and mind ! 

Me disinherited in form and face 

By nature, and mishap of outward grace ; 

Who, soul and body, through one guiltless fault lo 

Waste daily with the poison of sad thought. 

Me did you soothe, when solace hoped I none ! 

And as on unthaw'd ice the winter sun, 

Though stern the frost, though brief the genial day. 

You bless my heart with many a cheerful ray ; 1 5 

For gratitude suspends the heart's despair, 

Reflecting bright though cold your image there. 

Nay more ! its music by some sweeter strain 

Makes us live o'er our happiest hours again, 

Hope re-appearing dim in memory's guise — 20 

Even thus did you call up before mine eyes 

Two dear, dear Sisters, prized all price above. 

Sisters, like you, with more than sisters' love ; 

So like you thei/, and so in you were seen 

Their relative statures, tempers, looks, and mien, 25 

That oft, dear ladies ! you have been to me 

At once a vision and reality. 

Sight seem'd a sort of memory, and amaze 

Mingled a trouble with affection's gaze. 

Oft to my eager soul I whisper blame, 30 

A Stranger bid it feel the Stranger's shame — 

My eager soul, impatient of the name, 

No strangeness owns, no Stranger's form descries : 

The chidden heart spreads trembling on the eyes. 

abbreviated and altered version was included in F. W., 1834, 1844, and 

1852, with the heading ' On taking Leave of 1817 ' :— 

To know, to esteem, to love — and then to part, 

Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart ! 

O for some dear abiding-place of Love, 

O'er which my spirit, like the mother dove 

Might brood with warming wings ! — fair as kind, 

Were but one sisterhood with you combined, 

(Your very image they in shape and mind) 

Far rather would I sit in solitude, 

The forms of memory all my mental food, 

And dream of you, sweet sisters, (ah, not mine !) 

And only dream of you (ah dream and pine !) 

Than have the presence, and partake the pride, 

And shine in the eye of all the world beside ! 

412 TO TWO sistp:rs 

First-seen I gazed, as 1 would look you thro*! 35 

My best-beloved regain'd their youth in you, — 
And still I ask, though now familiar grown, 
Are you for tJicir sakos dear, or for your own? 
O doubly dear I may Quiet with you dwell ! 

In Grief 1 love you, yet I love you well! 40 

Hope long is dead to me ! an orphan's tear 

Love wept despairing o'er his nurse's bier. 

Yet still she flutters o'er her grave's green slope : 

For Love's despair is but the ghost of Hope ! 

Sweet Sisters ! were you placed around one hearth 45 
Witli those, your other selves in shape and wortli, 
Far rather would I sit in solitude, 
Fond recollections all my fond heart's food, 
And dream of you, sweet Sisters ! (ah ! not mine !) 
And only dream of you (ah ! dream and pine !) 50 

Than boast the presence and partake the pride. 
And shine in the eye, of all the world beside. 


The butterfly the ancient Grecians made 
The soul's fair emblem, and its only name — * 
But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade 
Of mortal life ! — For in this earthly frame 
Ours is the reptile's lot, much toil, much blame, 5 

Manifold motions making little speed. 
And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed. 

' First published with a prefatory note: — 'The fact tliat in Greek 
Psyche is the common name for the soul, and the butterfly, is thus 
alluded to in the following stanzas from an unpublished poem of the 
Author', in the Biographia Literaria, 1817, i. 82, n. : included (as No. II 
of 'Three Scraps') in Amulet, 1833: Lit. Rem., 1836, i. 53. First collected 
in 1844. In Lit. Rem. and 1844 the poem is dated 1808. 

2 Psyche means both Butterfly and Soul. Amulet, 1833. 

In some instances the Symbolic and Onomastic are united as in 
Psyche = Anima et papilio. MS. S.T.C. (Hence the word 'name' was 
italicised in the MS.) 

Title] The Butterfly Amulet, 188S, 1877-81, 1803. 

4 Of earthly life. For in this fleshly frame MS. S. T. C. : Of earthly life ! 
For, in this mortal frame Amulet, 1833, 1893. 



'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane ! 

(So call him, for so mingling blame with praise, 

And smiles with anxious looks, his earliest friends. 

Masking his birth-name, wont to character 

His wild-wood fancy and impetuous zeal,) 5 

'Tis true that, passionate for ancient truths. 

And honouring with religious love the Great 

Of elder times, he hated to excess. 

With an unquiet and intolerant scorn. 

The hollow Puppets of a hollow Age, lo 

Ever idolatrous, and changing ever 

Its worthless Idols ! Learning, Power, and Time, 

(Too much of all) thus wasting in vain war 

Of fervid colloquy. Sickness, 'tis true, 

Whole years of weary days, besieged him close, 15 

Even to the gates and inlets of his life ! 

But it is true, no less, that strenuous, firm, 

And with a natural gladness, he maintained 

The citadel unconquered, and in joy 

Was strong to follow the delightful Muse. 20 

For not a hidden path, that to the shades 

Of the beloved Parnassian forest leads, 

Lurked undiscovered by him ; not a rill 

There issues from the fount of Hippocrene, 

But he had traced it upward to its source, 25 

Through open glade, dark glen, and secret dell, 

Knew the gay wild flowers on its banks, and culled 

Its med'cinable herbs. Yea, oft alone, 

Piercing the long-neglected holy cave, 

^ First published in The Friend, No. XIV, November 23, 1809. There 
is no title or heading to the poem, which occupies the first page of the 
number, but a footnote is appended: — 'Imitated, though in the move- 
ments rather than the thoughts, from the vii^^, oi GU Epitafi of Chiabrera : 

Fu ver, che Ambrosio Salinero a torto 

Si pose in pena d'odiose liti,' &c. 
Included in Sihyllhie Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834. Sir Satyrane, 
' A Satyres son yborne in forrest wylde ' (Spenser's Faery Queene, Bk. I, 
C. vi, 1. 21) rescues Una from the violence of Sarazin. Coleridge may have 
regarded Satyrane as the anonymn of Luther. Idoloclast, as he explains 
in the preface to * Satyrane's Letters ', is a ' breaker of idols '. 

10 a] an Friend, 1809, S. L. 1828, 1829. 16 inlets] outlets Friend, 1809. 


The liaunt obscun' of old Philosophy, 30 

He hailo with lifted torch its starry walls 
Sparkle, as erst they sparkled to the flame 
Of odorous lamps tended by Saint and Sage. 
O framed for calmer times and nobler hearts ! 
O studious Poet, eloquent for truth ! 35 

Philosopher ! contemning- wealth and death, 
Yet docile, childlike, full of Life and Love! 
Here, rather than on monumental stone, 
This record of thy worth thy Friend inscribes. 
Thoughtful, with quiet tears upon his cheek. ^o 

? 1809. 



What now, Man ! thou dost or mean'st to do 
Will help to give thee peace, or make thee rue, 
When hovering o'er the Dot this hand shall tell 
The moment that secures thee Heaven or Hell ! 




QuoTH Dick to me, as once at College 
We argued on the use of knowledge ; — 

* Sent in a letter to T. Poole, October 9, 1809, and transferred to one 
of Coleridge's Notebooks with the heading ' Inscription proposed on a 
Clock in a market place' : included in 'Omniana' of 1809-lG {Literary 
Remains, 1836, i. 317) with the erroneous title ' Inscription on a Clock in 
Clieapside '. First collected in 1893. 

What now thou do'st, or art about to do. 
Will help to give thee peace, or make thee rue ; 
When hov'ring o'er the line this hand will tell 
The last dread moment — 'twill be heaven or hell. 
Read for the last two lines : — 

When wav'ring o'er the dot this hand shall tell 
The moment tliat secures thee Heaven or Hell. 

MS. Lit. Bern. 
^ Now published for the first time from one of Coleridge's Notebooks. 
The use of the party catchword 'Citizen' and tlie allusion to 'Folks 

37 Life] light The Friend, 1809. 


'In old King Olim's reign, I've read, 

There lay two patients in one bed. 

The one in fat lethargic trance, 5 

Lay wan and motionless as lead : 

The other, (like the Folks in France), 

Possess'd a diiferent disposition — 

In short, the plain truth to confess, 

The man was madder than Mad Bess ! lo 

But both diseases, none disputed, 

Were unmedicinably rooted; 

Yet, so it chanc'd, by Heaven's permission. 

Each prov'd the other's true physician. 

'Fighting with a ghostly stare 15 

Troops of Despots in the air, 

Obstreperously Jacobinical, 

The madman froth'd, and foam'd, and roar'd : 

The other, snoring octaves cynical. 

Like good John Bull, in posture clinical, 20 

Seem'd living only when he snor'd. 

The Citizen enraged to see 

This fat Insensibility, 

Or, tir'd with solitary labour, 

Determin'd to convert his neighbour; 25 

So up he sprang and to 't he fell. 

Like devil piping hot from hell, 

With indefatigable fist 

Belabr'ing the poor Lethargist ; 

Till his own limbs were stiff and sore, 30 

And sweat-drops roll'd from every pore : — 

Yet, still, with flying fingers fleet. 

Duly accompanied by feet. 

With some short intervals of biting. 

He executes the self-same strain, 35 

Till the Slumberer woke for pain, 

And half-prepared himself for fighting — 

in Fiance' would suggest 1796-7 as a probable date, but the point 
or interpretation of the ' Example ' was certainly in Coleridge's mind 
when he put together the first number of The Friend, published June 1, 
1809 : — 'Though all men are in error, they are not all in the same error, 
nor at the same time . . . each therefore may possibly heal the other . . . 
even as two or more ph3'sicians, all diseased in their general health, yet 
under the immediate action of the disease on different days, may remove 
or alleviate the complaints of each other,' 


Tliat moment that his mad Colleae^ue 

Sunk down and slept thro' pure fatigue. 

So both were cur'd— and this example 40 

Gives demonstration full and ample — 

That Chance may bring a thing to bear, 

Where Art sits down in blank despair.' 

'That's true enough, Dick,' answer'd I, 

'But as for the Example, 'tis a lie.' 45 

1 809 


Sad lot, to have no Hope!- Though lowly kneeling 

He fain would frame a prayer within his breast, 

Would fain entreat for some sweet breath of healing. 

That his sick body might have ease and rest ; 

He strove in vain ! the dull sighs from his chest 5 

Against his will the stifling load revealing, 

Though Nature forced ; though like some captive guest, 

Some royal prisoner at his conqueror's feast, 

An alien's restless mood but half concealing, 

The sternness on his gentle brow confessed, 10 

Sickness within and miserable feeling: 

Though obscure pangs made curses of his dreams, 

And dreaded sleep, each night repelled in vain. 

Each night was scattered by its own loud screams: 

Yet never could his heart command, though fain, 15 

One deep full wish to be no more in pain. 

That Hope, which was his inward bliss and boast. 

Which waned and died, yet ever near him stood, 

Though changed in nature, wander where he would — 

For Love's Despair is but Hope's pining Ghost ! 20 

For this one hope he makes his hourly moan. 

He wishes and can wish for this alone ! 

Pierced, as with light from Heaven, before its gleams 

(So the love-stricken visionary deems) 

Disease would vanish, like a summer shower, 25 

Whose dews fling sunshine from the noon-tide bower ! 

Or let it stay ! yet this one Hope should give 

Such strength that he would bless his pains and live. 

? 1810. 

1 First published in SilyUine Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 

22 can] can S. L. 182S, 18.29. 



Its balmy lips the infant blest 
Relaxing from its Mother's breast, 
How sweet it heaves the happy sigh 
Of innocent satiety I 

And such my Infant's latest sigh ! 
Oh tell, rude stone ! the passer by, 
That here the pretty babe doth lie, 
Death san^ to sleep with Lullaby. 




DoRMi, Jesu ! Mater ridet 

Quae tarn dulcem somnuni videt, 

Dormi, Jesu ! blandule I 
Si noil dormis, Mater plorat, 
Inter fila cantans orat, 5 

Blande, veni, somnule. 


Sleep, sweet babe ! my cares beguiling : 
Mother sits beside thee smiling ; 
Sleep, my darling, tenderly ! 

* First published, with tlie signature 'Aphilos', in the Courier, 
Wednebdiiy, March 20, 1811 : included in SibyUine Leaves, 1817, and in 
1828, 1829, and 1834. 

2 First published as from * A Correspondent in Germany ' in the 
Morning Post, December 26, 1801. 

3 First published with the Latin in the Courier, August 30, 1811, with 
the following introduction : — * About thirteen years ago or more, travelling 
through the middle parts of Germany I saw a little print of the Virgin 

I balmy] milky Courier, 1811. 5 Infant's] darling's Courier, 1811. 

6 Tell simple stone Courier, 1811. 7 the] a Courier, ISll. 

The Virgin's Cnulle-Hijmn, cCc. Title—In a Koman Catholic] In a Catholic 

B.L., 1828, 182'J. 


It Ihou sleep not, iiiotlier inourneth, 
Singing as lier wheel she tuinetli : 
Come, soft slumber, balmily ! 




Nay, dearest Anna! why so grave? 

I said, you had no soul, 'tis true I 

For what you are, you cannot have : 

'Tis I, that have one since I first had you I 


I HAVE heard of reasons manifold 
Why Love must needs be blind, 

But this the best of all I hold — 
His eyes are in his mind. 

What outward form and feature are 5 

He guesseth but in part ; 
But that within is good and fair 

He seeth with the heart. 

? 1811. 

and Child in the small public liouse of a Catholic Village, with the 
folio-wing beautiful Latin lines under it, which I transcribed. They may 
be easily adapted to the air of the famous Sicilian Hymn, Adeste /ideks, 
laefi triumphanfes, by tlie omission of a few notes.' First collected in 
Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. 

' First published in Omniana (1812), i. 238; 'as a playful illustration 
of the distinction between To have and to be.' First collected in 1828 : 
included in 1829 and 1834. 

' First published in 1828 : included in 1829 and 1834. 

To a Lady, A:c. — In line 3 * are ', * have ", and m line 4 ' have *, ' you ', are 
italicized in all editions except I83i. 

Reason for, dc. — Title] In 1S2S, 1820, ISSl thc^c stanzas are printed 
without a title, but are divided by a space from Lines fu a Lady. The title 
appears first in 1803. 



Ere the birth of my life, if I wished it or no, 
No question was asked me— it could not be sol 
If the life was the question, a thing sent to try, 
And to live on be Yes ; what can No be V to die. 

nature's answer 

Is't returned, as 'twas sent? Is't no worse for the wear? 5 
Think first, what you are ! Call to mind what you were ! 
I gave you innocence, I gave you hope, 
Gave health, and genius, and an ample scope. 
Return you me guilt, lethargy, despair? 

Make out the invent'ry ; inspect, compare ! 10 

Then die — if die you dare ! 



On the wide level of a mountain's head, 

(I knew not where, but 'twas some faery place) 

' First published in 1828 : included in 1829 and 1834. In a Notebook 
of (?) 1811 these lines are preceded by the following couplet : — 

Complained of, complaining, there shov'd and here shoving. 

Every one blaming me, ne'er a one loving. 
" First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, in the preliminary matter, p. v : 
included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. In the ' Preface ' to Sibylline Leaves, p. iii, 
an apology is offered for its insertion on the plea that it vs^as a 'school 
boy poem ' added ' at the request of the friends of my youth '. The title 
is explained as follows :— 'By imaginary Time, I meant the state of a 
school boy's mind when on his return to school he projects his being 
in his day dreams, and lives in his next holidays, six months hence ; and 
this I contrasted with real Time.' In a Notebook of (?) 1811 there is an 
attempt to analyse and illustrate the "' sense of Time ', which appears to 
have been written before the lines as published in Sibijlline Leaves took 
shape : ' How marked the contrast between troubled manhood and 
joyously-active youth in the sense of time 1 To the former, time like the 
sun in an empty sky is never seen to move, but only to have moved. There, 
there it was, and now 'tis here, now distant I yet all a blank between. 

4 Yes] Yes 1828, 1829. 6 are] ark 1828, 182V. were] avkre 1828, 




Tlioii i)iiiic>ii>. ostrich like, for sails out-spread, 
Two lovoly childieii run an endless race, 
A sister and a brother ! 
This far outstripp'd the other; 
Yet ever runs she with reverted face, 
And looks and listens for the boy behind: 
For he, alas I is blind I 
O'er rough and smooth with even step he passed, 
And knows not whether he be first or last. 

? 1812. 


Fkom hemor^i-: 

[Act III, Scene i. 11. 69-82.] 

Hear, sweet Spirit, hear the spell, 
Lest a blacker charm compel I 
So shall the midnight breezes swell 
With thy deep long-lingering knell. 

And at evening evermore, 5 

In a chapel on the shore, 

Shall the chaunter, sad arid saintly, 

Yellow tapers burning faintly, 

Doleful masses chaunt for thee, 

Miserere Domine ! 10 

Hush ! the cadence dies away 

On the quiet moonlight sea: 
The boatmen rest their oars and say, 
Miserere Domine ! 


To the latter it is as the full moon in a tine breezy October night, driving 
on amid clouds of all shapes and hues, and kindling shifting colours, like 
an ostrich in its speed, and yet seems not to have moved at all. This 
I feel to be a just image of time real and time as felt, in two different 
states of being. The title of the poem therefore (for poem it ought to be) 
should be time real and time felt (in the sense of time) in active youth, 
or activity with hope and fullness of aim in any period, and in despondent, 
objectless manhood — time objective and subjective.' Anima Poetae, 1895, 
pp. 241-2. 

* First published in Eemorsc, 1813. First collected, 1844. 

An Invocation—'] chaunter] chaunters 1813, 1S2S, 1820, 1898. 12 quiet] 
yellow 1818, 1828, 1820. 



Sandoval. You loved the daughter of Don Manrique? 

Earl Henry. Loved? 

Sand. Did you not say you wooed her? 

Earl H. Once I loved 

Her whom I dared not woo ! 

Sand. And wooed, perchance, 

One whom you loved not ! 

Karl H. Oh ! I were most base, 

Not loving Oropeza. True, I wooed her, 5 

Hoping to heal a deeper wound ; but she 
Met my advances with impassioned pride, 
That kindled love with love. And when her sire, 
Who in his dream of hope already grasped 
The golden circlet in his hand, rejected 10 

My suit with insult, and in memory 
Of ancient feuds poured curses on my head, 
Her blessings overtook and baffled them ! 
But thou art stern, and with unkindly countenance 
Art inly reasoning whilst thou listenest to me. 15 

Sand. Anxiously, Henry ! reasoning anxiously. 
But Oropeza — 

Earl H. Blessings gather round her ! 

Within this wood there winds a secret passage, 
Beneath the walls, which opens out at length 
Into the gloomiest covert of the garden. — 20 

The night ere my departure to the army, 
She, nothing trembling, led me through that gloom, 
And to that covert by a silent stream. 
Which, with one star reflected near its marge. 
Was the sole object visible around me. 25 

No leaflet stirred ; the air was almost sultry ; 
So deep, so dark, so close, the umbrage o'er us ! 

1 Fii'st published in its present state in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : included 
in 1828, 1829, and 1834. For an earlier draft, forming part of an 
' Historic Drama in Five Acts ' (unfinished) entitled The Triumph of Loyalty, 
1801, vide Appendices of this edition. A prose sketch without title or 
heading is contained in one of Coleridge's earliest notebooks. 

14 unkindly] unkindling 1893. 23 And to the covert by that silent 

stream S. L., corrected in Errata, p. [xi]. 24 near] o'er S. L., corrected 

in Errata, p, [xi]. 


No lenfiet stirred ;— yet pleasure hiniLT upon 

The gloom aiul stillness of the balmy ni<rht-air. 

A little further on an arbour stood, 30 

Fragrant with llowering trees— I well remember 

What an uncertain glimmer in the darkness 

Their snow-white blossoms made — thither she led me, 

To that sweet bower! Then Oropeza trembled — 

I heard her heart beat — if 'twere not my own. 35 

Sa?id. A rude and scaring note, my friend ! 

Farl H. Oh ! no ! 

I have small memory of aught Init pleasure. 
The inquietudes of fear, like lesser streams 
Still flowing, still were lost in those of love: 
80 love grew mightier from the fear, and Nature, 40 

Fleeing from Pain, sheltered herself in Joy. 
The stars above our heads were dim and steady. 
Like ej^es suifused with rapture. Life was in us: 
We were all life, each atom of our frames 
A living soul — I vowed to die for her: 45 

With the faint voice of one who, having spoken, 
Eelapses into blessedness, I vowed it : 
That solemn vow, a whisper scarcely heard. 
A murmur breathed against a lady's ear. 
Oh ! there is joy above the name of pleasure. 50 

Deep self-possession, an intense repose. 

Sand, {ivifh a sarcastic senile). No other than as eastern 
sages paint, 
The God, who floats upon a Lotos leaf. 
Dreams for a thousand ages ; then awaking, 
Creates a world, and smiling at the bubble, 55 

Relapses into l)liss. 

Earl H. Ah I was that bliss 

Feared as an alien, and too vast for man ? 
For suddenly, impatient of its silence. 
Did Oropeza, starting, grasp my forehead. 
I caught her arms ; the veins were swelling on them. 60 
Through the dark bower she sent a hollow voice ; — 
' Oh I what if all betray me? what if thou?* 
I swore, and with an inward thought that seemed 
The purpose and the substance of my being, 
I swoi'e to her, that were she red with guilt, 65 

I would exchange my unblenched state with hers. — 
Friend ! by that winding passage, to that bovver 
I now will go — all objects there will teach me 


Unwavering love, and singleness of heart. 

Go, Sandoval ! I am prepared to meet her — 70 

Say nothing of me — I myself will seek her — 

Nay, leave me, friend ! I cannot bear the torment 

And keen inquiry of that scanning eye. — 

\Earl Henry retires into the wood. 
Sand, [alone). O Henry ! always striv'st thou to be great 
By thine own act — yet art thou never great 75 

But by the inspiration of great passion. 
The whirl-blast comes, the desert-sands rise up 
And shape themselves ; from Earth to Heaven they stand. 
As though they were the pillars of a temple, 
Built by Omnipotence in its own honour I 80 

But the blast pauses, and their shaping spirit 
Is fled : the mighty columns were but sand, 
And lazy snakes trail o'er the level ruins ! 


My Maker ! of thy power the trace 
In every creature's form and face 

The wond'ring soul surveys: 
Thy wisdom, infinite above 
Seraphic thought, a Father's love 5 

As infinite displays ! 

From all that meets or eye or ear. 

There falls a genial holy fear 

Which, like the heavy dew of morn. 

Refreshes while it bows the heart forlorn ! 10 

Great God ! thy works how wondrous fair ! 
Yet sinful man didst thou declare 
The whole Earth's voice and mind ! 

1 First published in Poems, 1852. The MS. was placed in the hands of 
the Editors by J. W. Wilkins, Esq., of Trinity Hall, Cambridge. 'The 
accompanying autograph," writes Mr. Wilkins, ' dated 1814, and addressed 
to Mrs. Hood of Brunswick Square, was given not later than the year 
1817 to a relative of my own who was then residing at Clifton (and was, 
at the time at which it passed into his hands, an attendant on Mr. Cole- 
ridge's lectures, which were in course of delivei-y at that place), either by 
the lady to whom it is addressed, or by some other friend of Mr. Coleridge.' 
1852, Notes, p. 385. 

424 A HYMN 

Lord, ev'n as Tliou all-present art, 

O may we still with heedful heart 15 

Thy presence know and find ! 
Tlien, come what will, of weal or woe, 
Joy's bosom-spring shall steady flow ; 
For though 'tis Heaven Thyself to see. 
Where but thy Shadow falls, Grief cannot be !— 20 




Ah I not by Cam or Isis, famous streams. 

In arched groves, the youthful poet's choice ; 
Nor while half-listening, 'mid delicious dreams. 

To harp and song from lady's hand and voice ; 

Not yet while gazing in sublimer mood 5 

On cliff, or cataract, in Alpine dell ; 
Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-w^eed strewed. 

Framing "wild fancies to the ocean's swell ; 

Our sea-bard sang this song ! which still he sings. 
And sings for thee, sweet friend ! Hark, Pity, hark ! 

Now mounts, now totters on the tempest's wings, 11 

Now groans, and shivers, the replunging bark ! 

* Cling to the shrouds I ' In vain ! The breakers roar — 
Death shrieks ! With two alone of all his clan 

Forlorn the poet paced the Grecian shore, 15 

No classic roamer, but a shipw^'ecked man ! 

' First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 
1834. A different or emended version headed 'Written in a Blank Leaf 
of Faulkner's Shipwreck, presented by a friend to Miss K ', was published 
in Felix Farlexjs Bristol Journal of February 21, 1818. [See Note by 
G. E. Weare, Weston-super-Mare, January, 1905.] 

Title] To a Lady With Falkner's 'Shipwreck ' S. L. 

2 arched] cloyst'ring F. F. 3 'mid] midst F. F. 4 lady's] woman's 
F. F. 5 sublimer] diviner F. F. 6 On torrent falls, on woody 

mountain dell F. F. 7 sea-weed] sea-weeds F. F. 8 Attuning 

wild tales to the ocean's swell F. F. 9 this] this F. F. 10 thee] 

thee F.F. 11 It mounts, it totters F. F. 12 It groans, it quivers F. F. 

14 of] and F. F. 15 Forlorn the] The toil-worn F.F. 

TO A LADY 425 

Say then, what muse inspired these genial strains, 

And lit his spirit to so bright a flame? 
The elevating thought of suffered pains, 

Which gentle hearts shall mourn ; but chief, the name 20 

Of gratitude ! remembrances of friend, 

Or absent or no more ! shades of the Past, 
Which Love makes substance ! Hence to thee I send, 

dear as long as life and memory last ! 

I send with deep regards of heart and head, 25 

Sweet maid, for friendship formed ! this work to thee : 

And thou, the while thou canst not choose but shed 
A tear for Falconer, wilt remember me. 



If dead, we cease to be ; if total gloom 

Swallow up life's brief flash for aye, we fare 
As summer-gusts, of sudden birth and doom. 

Whose sound and motion not alone declare. 
But are their whole of being ! If the breath ^ 5 

Be Life itself, and not its task and tent, 
If even a soul like Milton's can know death ; 

Man ! thou vessel purposeless, unmeant, 
Yet drone-hive strange of phantom purposes ! 

Surplus of Nature's dread activity, 10 

Which, as she gazed on some nigh-finished vase, 
Retreating slow, with meditative pause, 

She formed with restless hands unconsciously. 
Blank accident ! nothing's anomaly ! 

1 First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 : included in 1828, 1829, and 

^ Halitus = anima animae tabernaculum MS. Note {?S. T. C.) 

17-20 Say then what power evoked such genial strains 
And beckon'd godlike to the trembling Muse ? 
The thought not pleasureless of suffer'd pains 

But chiefly friendship's voice, her holy dues. F. F. 
21 Demanding dear remembrances of friend F. F. 22 Which 

love makes real ! Thence F.F. 24 life] love F. F. 26 Sweet Maid 

for friendship framed this song to thee F.F. 28 Falconer] Falkner 

S. L. : Faulkner F. F. me] me S. L., 1828, 1829. 

5 are] are S. L., 1828, 1829. whole] whole S. L., 1828, 1829. 


If rootless thus, thus substanceless th}' state, 15 

Go, weigh thy dreams, and be thy hopes, thy fears, 
Tlie counter-weights !— Thy hiughter and thy tears 

Mean but themselves, each fittest to create 
And to repay the other! Why rejoices 

Thy heart with hollow joy for hollow good ? ao 

Why cowl thy face beneath the mourner's hood? 
Why waste thy sighs, and thy lamenting voices, 

Image of Image, Ghost of Ghostly Elf, 
That such a thing as thou feel'st warm or cold? 
Yet what and whence thy gain, if thou withhold 25 

These costless shadows of thy shadowy self? 
Be sad ! )je glad ! be neither ! seek, or shun ! 
Thou hast no reason why ! Thou canst have none ; 
Thy l)eing's being is contradiction. 
? 1815. 



A SUNNY shaft did I behold, 

From sky to earth it slanted : 
And poised therein a bird so bold — 

Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted ! 

He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled 5 

Within that shaft of sunny mist ; 

His eyes of fire, his beak of gold. 
All else of amethyst ! 

And thus he sang : ' Adieu ! adieu ! 

Love's dreams prove seldom true. 10 

^ First published in Zapolya, 1817 (Act 11, Scene i, 11. 65-80). First 
collected in 1844. Two MSS. are extant, one in the possession of 
Mr. John Murray (MS. M.), and a second in the possession of the Editor 
(MS. S. T. C). For a prose version of Glycine's Song, probably a transla- 
tion fi'oin the German, vide Appendices of this edition. 

19 the] each JSS7-S0, 1S93. 

Son^— Title] Sung by Glycine in Zapolya 189S : Glycine's Song MS. M. 
I A pillar grey did I behold MS. S. T. C. 4 A faery Bird tliat 

chanted MS. i;. T. C. 6 sunny] shiny MS. S.T. C. 



SONG 427 

The blossoms they make no delay : 
The sparkling dew-drops will not stay. 
Sweet month of May, 
We must away ; 

Far, far away ! 15 

To-day ! to-day ! ' 



Up, up ! ye dames, and lasses gay ! 

To the meadows trip away. 

'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn, 

And scare the small birds from the corn. 

Not a soul at home may stay : 5 

For the shepherds must go 
With lance and bow 
To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. 

Leave the hearth and leave the house 
To the cricket and the mouse : 10 

Find grannam out a sunny seat. 
With babe and lambkin at her feet. 
Not a soul at home may stay : 
For the shepherds must go 
With lance and bow 15 

To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. 



Let those whose low delights to Earth are given 
Chaunt forth their earthly Loves ! but we 
Must make an holier minstrelsy. 

And, heavenly -born, will sing the Things of Heaven. 

^ First published in Zapohja (Act iv, Scene ii, 11. 56-71). First collected, 

2 From a hitherto unpublished MS. For the original Dialogo: Fide, 
Speranza, Fide, included in the ' Madrigali . . .' del Signer Cavalier Battista 
Quarini, 1663, vide Apjjendices of this edition. The translation in 
Coleridge's handwriting is preceded by another version transcribed and, 
possibly, composed by Hartley Coleridge. 

II, 12 om. MS S.T. a, MS. M. 
minting ,Sonsr— Title] Choral Song 18'^H. 



But wh<t for us the listeninp^ Pleart shall e^ain ? 5 

Inaudible as of the sphere 

Our music dies upon the ear. 
Enchanted with the mortal Syren's strain. 


Yet let our choral songs abound ! 

Th' inspiring Power, its living Source, 10 

May flow with them and give them force, 

If,^^here all unheard, in Heaven they sound. 


Aid thou our voice. Great Spirit ! thou whose flame 
Kindled the Songster sweet of Israel, 
Who made so high to swell 15 

Beyond a mortal strain thy glorious Name. 


Though rapt to Heaven, our mission and our care 
Is still to sojourn on the Earth, 
To shape, to soothe, Man's second Birth, 

And re-ascend to Heaven, Heaven's prodigal Heir ! 30 


What is Man's soul of Love deprived ? 


It like a Harp untuned is, 

That sounds, indeed, but sounds amiss. 


From holy Love all good gifts are derived. 


But 'tis time that every nation 25 

Should hear how loftily we sing. 


See, World, see thy salvation ! 
Let the Heavens with praises ring. 
Who would have a Throne above. 
Let him hope, believe and love : 30 

And whoso loves no earthly song. 
But does for heavenly music long, 
Faith, Hope, and Cliarity for him, 
1815 Shall sing like winged Cherubim. 



It may indeed be phantasy, when I 
Essay to draw from all created things 
Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings ; 

And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie 

Lessons of love and earnest piety. 5 

So let it be ; and if the wide world rings 
In mock of this belief, it brings 

Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain jDerplexity. 

So will I build my altar in the fields, 

And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be, lo 

And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields 
Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee, 

Thee only God ! and thou shalt not despise 

Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice. 
? 18:20. 


The sole true Something — This ! In Limbo's Den 
It frightens Ghosts, as here Ghosts frighten men. 
Thence cross'd unseiz'd — and shall some fated hour 
Be pulveris'd by Demogorgon's power, 

^ First published in Letters, Conversations and Recollections by IS. T. Coleridge, 
1836, i. U4. First collected in Poems, 1863, Appendix, p. 391. 

^ First published, in its present shape, from an original MS. in 1893 
(inscribed in a notebook). Lines 6-10 ('they shrink ... negative eye') 
were first printed in The Friend (1818, iii. 215), and included as a separate 
fragment with the title ' Moles ' in P. W., 1834, i. 259. Lines 11-38 were 
first printed with the title < Limbo' in P. W., 1834, i. 272-3. The lines 
as quoted in The Friend were directed against ' the partisans of a crass 
and sensual materialism, the advocates of the Nihil nisi ab extra\ The 
following variants, now first printed, are from a second MS. {MS. S. T. C.) 
in the possession of Miss Edith Coleridge. In the notebook Limbo is 
followed by the lines entitled Ne Plus Ultra, vide post, p. 431. 

Limho — Title] Another Fragment, but in a very different style, from a 
Dream of Purgatory, alias Limbus MS. S. T. C. [Note. — In this MS. 
Phantom, 'All Look and Likeness,' &c. precedes Liynho.'\ 
Between 2-3 

For skimming in the wake it mock'd the care 

Of the old Boat-God for his farthing fare ; 

Tho' Irus' Gliost itself he ne'er frown'd blacker on 

The akin and bkin-pent Druggist cross'd the Acheron, 

430 LIMBO 

And given us poison to annihilate souls — 5 

Even now it shrinks them — they shrink in as Moles 
(Nature's mute monks, live mandrakes of the ground) 
Creep hack from Light — then listen for its sound ; — 
See but to dread, and dread they know not why — 
The natural alien of their negative eye. lo 

'Tis a strange place, this Limbo ! — not a Place, 

Yet name it so ; — where Time and weary Space 

Fettered from flight, with night-mare sense of fleeing, 

Strive for their last crepuscular half-being ; — 

Lank Space, and scytheless Time with branny hands 15 

Barren and soundless as the measuring sands. 

Not mark'd by flit of Shades, — unmeaning they 

As moonlight on the dial of the day ! 

But that is lovely — looks like Human Time, — 

An Old Man with a steady look sublime, 20 

That stops his earthly task to watch the skies ; 

But he is blind — a Statue hath such eyes ; — 

Yet having moonward turn'd his face by chance, 

Gazes the orb with moon-like countenance, 

With scant white hairs, with foretop bald and high. 25 

He gazes still, — his eyeless face all eye ; — 

As 'twere an organ full of silent sight. 

His whole face seemeth to rejoice in light ! 

Lip touching lip, all moveless, bust and limb — 

He seems to gaze at that which seems to gaze on him I 30 

No such sweet sights doth Limbo den immure, 
Wall'd round, and made a spirit-jail secure, 

Styx, and witJi Periphlegeton Cocytus, — 
(The very names, methiiiks, might frigliten us) 
Unchang'd it cross'd — and shall some fated hour MS. Notebook. 
[Coleridge marks these lines as ' a specimen of the Sublime dashed to 
pieces by cutting too close with the fiery Four-in-Hand round the corner 
of Nonsense.'] 

6 They, like moles Friend, 1818. 8 Slirink from the light, then 

listen for a sound Friend, 1818. 12 so] such MS. S. T. C. 16 the] 

his MS. S. T.C. 17 Mark'd but by Flit MS. S. T. C. 30 at] on 

MS. S. T. C. 

2,1 foil. In one sole Outlet yawns the Phantom Wall, 

And through this grim road to [a] worser thrall 
Oft homeward scouring from a sick Child's dream 
Old Mother Brownrigg shoots upon a scream ; 

LIMBO 431 

By the mere horror of blank Naught-at-all, 
Whose circumambience doth these ghosts enthral. 
A lurid thought is growthless, dull Privation, 35 

Yet that is but a Purgatory curse ; 
Hell knows a fear far worse, 
A fear— a future state ; — 'tis positive Negation ! 


Sole Positive of Night ! 
Antipathist of Light ! 
Fate's only essence I primal scorpion rod — 
The one permitted opposite of God I — 
Condensed blackness and abysmal storm 5 

Compacted to one sceptre 
Arms the Grasp enorm — 
The Intercepter — 
The Substance that still casts the shadow Death ! — 
The Dragon foul and fell — 10 

The unrevealable, 
And hidden one, whose breath 
Gives wind and fuel to the fires of Hell ! 
Ah ! sole despair 
Of both th' eternities in Heaven ! 15 

Sole interdict of all-bedewing prayer, 
The all-compassionate ! 
Save to the Lampads Seven 
Keveal'd to none of all th' Angelic State, 

Save to the Lampads Seven, 20 

That watch the throne of Heaven I 
V 1826. 

1 First published in 1834. The MS., which is inscribed in a notebook, 
is immediately preceded by that of the first draft of Limbo {ante, p. 429). 
The so-called ' Ne Plus Ultra' may have been intended to illustrate a 
similar paradox — tlie ' positivity of negation '. No date can be assigned 
to either of these metaphysical conceits, but there can be little doubt 
that they were * written in later life '. 

And turning back her Face with hideous Leer, 
Leaves Sentry there Intolerable Fear 1 

A horrid thought is growthless dull Negation: 

Yet that is but a Purgatory Curso, 
She knows a fear far worse 

Flee, lest thou hear its Name ! Flee, rash Imagination ! 

S. T. Coleridge^ Id Oct. 1S27, Grove, Highgatc. 



Whlkk is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn V 
Where may the grave of that good man be ?~ 
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn, 
Under the twigs of a young birch tree ! 
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear, 5 

And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year, 
And whistled and roared in the winter alone, 
Is gone, — and the birch in its stead is grown. — 
The Knight's bones are dust, 

And his good sword rust ; — 10 

His soul is with the saints, I trust. 
•■' 1817. 

' FirsL published in P. TF., 1834. Gillman {Life, p. 276) says that tlic 
lilies were composed 'as an experiment for a metre', and repeated by 
the author to ' a mutual friend ', who • spoke of his visit to Highgato ' 
and repeated them to Scott on the following day. The last three lines, 
' somewhat altered ', are quoted in Ivanhoe, chapter viii, and again in Castle 
Datigerous, chapter ix. They run thus : — 
The knights are dust, 
And their good swords are rust; — 
Their souls are with the saints, we trust. 
Gillman says that the Ivanhoe quotation convinced Coleridge that 
Scott was the author of the Waverley Novels. In the Appendix to the 
' Notes ' to Castle Dangerous (1834), which was edited and partly drawn up 
by Lockhart, the poem is quoted in full, with a prefatory note ('The 
author has somewhat altered part of a beautiful unpublished fragment of 
Coleridge '). 

Where is the grave of Sir Arthur Orellan, — 
Where may the grave of that good knight be ? 

By the marge of a brook, on the slope of Helvellyn, 
Under the boughs of a young birch-tree. 
The Oak tliat in summer was pleasant to hear. 
That rustled in autumn all withered and sear, 
That whistled and groan'd thro' the winter alone, 
He hath gone, and a birch in his place is grown. 
The knight's bones are dust, 
His good sword is rust ; 
His spirit is with the saints, we trust. 
This version must have been transcribed from a MS. in Lockhart's 
possession, and represents a first draft of the lines as published in 1834. 
These lines are, no doubt, an 'experiment for a metre'. The upward 
movement (11. 1-7) is dactylic: the fall (11. 8-11) is almost, if not 
altogether, spondaic. The whole forms a complete stanza, or metrical 
scheme, which may be compared with 11. 264-78 of the First Part of 
Christahel. Mrs. H. N. Coleridge, who must have been familiar with 
Gillman's story, dates the Kniyhfs Tomb 1802. 



With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots, 
Wreathe iron pokers into true-love knots ; 
Rhyme's sturdy cripple, fancy's maze and clue, 
Wit's forge and fire-blast, meaning's press and screw. 



*A Hebrew Dirge, cliaunted in the Great Synagogue, St. James's 
Place, Aldgate, on the day of the Funeral of her Royal Highness the 
Princess Charlotte. By Hyman Hurwitz, Master of the Hebrew Academy, 
Highgate : with a Translation in English Verse, by S. T. Coleridge, Esq., 

Mourn, Israel ! Sons of Israel, mourn ! 

Give utterance to the inward throe I 
As wails, of her first love forlorn, 

The Virgin clad in robes of woe. 

Mourn the young Mother, snatch'd away 5 

From Light and Life's ascending Sun ! 

Mourn for the Babe, Death's voiceless prey, 
Earn'd by long pangs and lost ere won. 

Mourn the bright Rose that bloom'd and went. 

Ere half disclosed its vernal hue I lo 

Mourn the green Bud, so rudely rent. 
It brake the stem on which it grew. 

Mourn for the universal woe 

With solemn dirge and fault'ring tongue : 

For England's Lady is laid low, 15 

So dear, so lovely, and so young ! 

' First published in Liferary Remams, 1836, i. 148, from ' notes written 
by Mr. Coleridge in a volume of " Chalmers's Poets " '. Line 2 finds a place 
in Hai'tley Coleridge's couplets on Donne which are written on the fly- 
leaves and covers of his copy of Anderson's British Poets. In the original 
MS. it is enclosed in quotation marks. First collected in P. Tr,,1885, ii. 409. 

'-' First published, together with the Hebrew, as an octavo pamphlet 
(pp. 13) in 1817. An abbreviated version was included in Literary Remains, 
1836, i. 57-8 and in the Appendix to Poems, 1863. The Lament as a whole 
was first collected in P. and D. W., 1877-80, ii. 282-5. 

Israel's Lament — Tiile'] Israel's Lament on the death of the Princess 
Charlotte of Wales. From the Hebrew of Hyman Hurwitz L. R. 


Tlu- l.lossoms on her Tree of Life 
Shone with the dews of recent hliss : 

Trau.s])lanted in that deadly strife, 

{She phicks its fruits in Paradise. ao 

Mourn fur the widow'd Lord in chief, 
Who wails and will not solaced be ! 

Mourn for the childless Father's grief, 
The wedded Lovers agony! 

Mourn for the Prince, who rose at morn 35 

To seek and bless the firstling bud 

Of his own Rose, and found the thorn, 
Its point bedew'd with tears of blood. 

press again that murmuring string! 

Again bewail that princely Sire ! 30 

A destined Queen, a future King, 

He mourns on one funereal pyre. 

Mourn for Britannia's hopes decay'd, 
Her daughters wail their dear defence ; 

Their fair example, prostrate laid, 35 

Chaste Love and fervid Innocence. 

While Grief in song shall seek repose, 
We w411 take up a Mourning yearly : 

To wail the blow that crush'd the Rose, 

So dearly priz'd and lov'd so dearly. 40 

Long as the fount of Song o'erflows 

Will I the yearly dirge renew: 
Mourn for the firstling of the Rose, 

That snapt the stem on which it grew. 

The proud shall pass, forgot ; the chill, 45 

Damp, trickling Vault their only mourner ! 

Not so the regal Rose, that still 

Clung to the breast which first had worn her! 

thou, who mark'st the Mourner's path 

To sad Jeshurun's Sons attend ! r° 

Amid the Light'nings of thy Wrath 
The showers of Consolation send ! 

19 Transplanted] Translated L.J?., I8fi3. 21-4 om. L. R , JSG-l. 

29-32 om. L.R., 1803. 49-56 om. L. R., 1SG3. 49 Monrner's] Mourners' 
L.R., 18G3. 


Jehovah frowns ! the Islands bow ! 

And Prince and People kiss the Rod ! — 
Their dread chastising Judge wert thou ! 55 

Be thou their Comforter, God ! 




O ! IT is pleasant, with a heart at ease, 

Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies, 
To make the shifting clouds be what you please, 

Or let the easily persuaded eyes 
Own each quaint likeness issuing from the mould 5 

Of a friend's fancy ; or with head bent low 
And cheek aslant see rivers flow of gold 

'Twixt crimson banks ; and then, a traveller, go 
From mount to mount through Cloudland, gorgeous land ! 

Or list'ning to the tide, with closed sight, 10 

Be that blind bard, who on the Chian strand 

By those deep sounds possessed with inward light. 
Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssee 

Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea. 

* First published in FeZix Farley's BristolJoimial for Fehi-ua,ry 7,1818 : and 
afterwards in Blackwood's Magazine for November, 1819. First collected in 
1828 : included in 1829 and 1834, A MS. in the possession of Major 
Butterworth of Carlisle is signed ' S. T. Coleridge, Little Plampton, Oct. 
1818'. In a letter to Coleridge dated Jan. 10, 1820, Lamb asks, 'Who 
put your marine sonnet [i. e. A Sonnet written on the Sea Coast, vide 
Titlel ... in Blackwood '^ ' F. Freiligrath in his Introduction to the 
Tauchnitz edition says that the last five lines are borrowed from 
Stolberg's An das Meer ; vide Appendices of this edition. 

Fancy, &c. — Title] Fancy, &c. A Sonnet Composed by the Seaside, 
October 1817. F. F. : Fancy in Nubibus. A Sonnet, composed on the Sea 
Coast 1819. 

4 let] bid 1819. 5 Own] Owe F. F. 1818. quaint] strange 1819. 

6 head] heart i¥,S. : head bow'd low 1819. 9 through] o'er 2.979. 




A HtldfW Dirge and Hymn, cliaunted in tl»o Oreat Synagogue, 
ht. Janu's' pi. Aldgate, on the Day of the Funeral of King George III. of 
blessed memory. By Hyiuan Ilurwit^ vf Highgate, Translated by a 


Oppress'd, confused, with grief and pain, 
And inly shrinking from the blow, 

In vain I seek the dirgeful strain, 
The wonted words refuse to flow. 

A fear in every face I find, 5 

Each voice is that of one who grieves ; 

And all my Soul, to grief resigned, 
Keflects the sorrow it receives. 

The Day-Star of our glory sets I 

Our King has breathed his latest breath ! 10 

Each heart its wonted pulse forgets, 

As if it own'd the pow'r of death. 

Our Crown, our heart's Desire is fled ! 

Britannia's glory moults its wing ! 
Let us with ashes on our head, 15 

Kaise up a mourning for our King. 

Lo ! of his beams the Day-Star shorn, - 

Sad gleams the Moon through cloudy veil ! 

The Stars are dim ! Our Nobles mourn ; 

The Matrons weep, tlieir Children wail. 20 

No age records a King so just. 

His virtues numerous as his days ; 

The Lord Jehovah was his trust. 

And truth with mercy ruled his ways. 

His Love was bounded by no Clime ; 25 

Each diverse Eace, each distant Clan 

He govern'd by this truth sublime, 

' God only knows the heart — not man.' 

^ First published with the Hebrew in pamphlet form in 1820. First 
collected in 1893. 

^ The author, in the spirit of Hebrew Poetry, here represents the 
Crown, the Peerage, and the Commonalty, by the figurative expression 
of the Sun, Moon, and Stars. 


His word appall'd the sons of pride, 

Iniquity far wing'd her way ; 30 

Deceit and fraud were scatter'd wide, 

And truth resum'd her sacred sway. 

He sooth'd the wretched, and the prey 

From impious tyranny he tore ; 
He stay'd th' Usurper's iron sway, 35 

And bade the Spoiler waste no more. 

Thou too, Jeshurun's Daughter ! thou, 
Th' oppress'd of nations and the scorn I 

Didst hail on his benignant brow 

A safety dawning like the morn. 40 

The scoff of each unfeeling mind. 

Thy doom was hard, and keen thy grief; 

Beneath his throne, peace thou didst find, 
And blest the hand that gave relief. 

E'en when a fatal cloud o'erspread 45 

The moonlight splendour of his sway, 

Yet still the light remain'd, and shed 
Mild radiance on the traveller's way. 

But he is gone — the Just ! the Good ! 

Nor could a Nation's pray'r delay 50 

The heavenly meed, that long had stood 

His portion in the realms of day. 

Beyond the mighty Isles extent 

The mightier Nation mourns her Chief:; 

Him Judah's Daughter shall lament, 55 

In tears of fervour, love and grief. 

Britannia mourns in silent grief; 

Her heart a prey to inward woe. 
In vain she strives to find relief. 

Her pang so great, so great the Idow. 60 

Britannia ! Sister ! woe is me ! 

Full fain would I console thy woe. 
But, ah ! how shall I comfort thee, 

Who need the balm I would bestow ? 

United then let us repair, 65 

As round our common Parent's grave ; 

And pouring out our heart in prayer, 
Our heav'nly Father's mercy crave. 


I'ntil .Tpliovali f'n»ni liis tliroiie 

Shall lic'Oii lii> isuflering i)f'ople's lciir.«5 ; 70 

Siiall turn to song the Mourner's groan, 

To smiles of joy the Nation's tears. 

Praise to the Lord ! Loud i)raise,s sing I 
And bless Jehovah's righteous hand I 

Again he bids a George, our King, 75 

Dispense his blessings to the Land. 

Hum 1 1 
() thron'd in lleav'n ! Sole King of kings, 
Jehovah I hear thy Children's prayers and sighs ! 
Thou Binder of the broken heai't ! with wings 

Of healing on thy people rise ! 80 

Thy mercies, Lord, are sweet ; 
And Peace and Mercy meet, 
Before thy Judgment seat : 
Lord, hear us ! we entreat ! 

When angry clouds thy throne surround, 85 

E'en from the cloud thou bid'st thy mercy shine : 
And ere thy righteous vengeance strikes the wound, 
Thy grace prepares the balm divine ! 
Thy mercies, Lord, are sweet ; 

The Parent tree thy hand did spare — 90 

It fell not till the ripen'd fruit Avas won: 
Beneath its shade the Scion liourish'd fair. 

And for the Sire thou gav'st the Son. 

This thy own Vine, which thou didst rear, 
And train up for us from the royal root, 95 

Protect, O Lord ! and to the Nations near 

Long let it shelter yield, and fi'uit. 

Lord, comfort thou the royal line : 
Let Peace and Joy watch round us hand and hand. 
Our Nobles visit with thy grace divine, 100 

And banish sorrow from the land ! 
Thy mercies. Lord, are sweet ; 
And Peace and Mercy meet 
Before thy Judgment seat ; 
ly.j^^ Lord, hear us! we entreat I io5 



Verse, a breeze inid blossoms straying, 
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee — 
Both were mine ! Life went a-maying 
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, 

When I was young I c 

When I was young ? — Ah, woful When ! 

Ah ! for the change 'twixt Now and Then I 

This breathing house not built with hands, 

This body that does me grievous wrong, 

O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands, lo 

How lightly then it flashed along: — 

Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, 

On winding lakes and rivers wide, 

That ask no aid of sail or oar, 

That fear no spite of wind or tide ! 15 

' First published in its present shape in 1834. Lines 1-38, with the 
heading ' Youth and Age ', were first published in the Literary Souvenir, 
1828, and also in the Bijou, 1828 : included in 1828, 1829. Lines 39-49 
were fii-st published in Blackwood'' s Magazine for June 1832, entitled 'An 
Old Man's Sigh : a Sonnet ', as * an out-slough or hypertrophic stanza of 
a certain poem called "Youth and Age".' Of .lines 1-43 three MSS. are 
extant. (1) A fair copy {MS. T) presented to Derwent Coleridge, and now 
in the Editor's possession. In MS. 1 the poem is divided into three 
stanzas : (i) lines 1-17 ; (ii) lines 18-38 ; (iii) lines 39-43. The water- 
mark of this MS. on a quarto sheet of Bath Post letter-paper is 1822. 
(2) A rough draft, in a notebook dated Sept. 10, 1823 ; and (3) a corrected 
draft of forty-three lines (vide for MSS. 2, S Appendices of this edition). 
A MS. version of An Old Man's Sigh, dated * Grove, Highgate, April 
1832 ', was contributed to Miss Eotha Quillinan's Album ; and another 
version numbering only eight lines was inscribed in an album in 1828 
when Coleridge was on his Rhine tour with Wordsworth. After line 42 
this version continues : — 

As we creep feebly down life's slope, 
Yet courteous dame, accept this truth, 

Hope leaves us not, but we leave hope. 
And quench the inward light of youth. 

T. Colley Grattan's Beaten Paths, 1862, ii. 139. 
There can be little doubt that lines 1-43 were composed in 1823, and that 
the last six lines of the text which form part of An Old Man^s Sigh were 
composed, as an afterthought, in 1832. 

I Verse, a] Verse is a with the alternative ? Verse a breeze MS. 1. 
2 clung] clings MS. 1, Bijou. 6 When I] When I 1828, 1829. 8 This 
house of clay MS. 1, Bijou. 10 O'er hill and dale and sounding sands 

MS. 1, Bijou. n then] ihe^i 1828, 1829. 12 skiffs] boats MS. 1, Bijou. 


Nought oarrd (lii^ Ixxly for wind or weather 
Wlini Voiilli and I livod in't together. 

Flowers are lovely ; Love is flower-like ; 
Friendship is n sheltering tree ; 

O I the joys, that came down shower-like, 20 

Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty, 

Ere I was old ! 

Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere, 

Which tells me, Youth 's no longer here 1 

Youth ! for years so many and sweet, 35 
"Tis known, that Thou and I were one, 

Fll think it but a fond conceit — 

It cannot be that Thou art gone ! 

Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd : — 

And thou wert aye a masker bold I 30 

What strange disguise hast now put on, 

To make believe, that thou art gone? 

1 see these locks in silvery slips, 
This drooping gait, this altered size: 

But Spring-tide blossoms on thy lips, 35 

And tears take sunshine from thine eyes ! 
Life is but thought: so think I will 
That Youth and I are house-mates still. 

Dew-drops are the gems of morning, 

But the tears of mournful eve ! 40 

Where no hope is, life 's a w^'irning 

That only serves to make us grieve. 

When we are old : 

That only serves to make us grieve 

With oft and tedious taking-leave, 45 

20 came] come BiJou. 21 Of Beauty, Trutli, and Liberty MS. i, Bijou. 

23 Ere 1] Ere I 1828, 1829. woful] mournful Literary Souvenir. 25 many] 
merry Bijou. 27 fond] false MS. 1, Bijou. 32 make believe] 

viake believe 1828, 1829. 34 drooping] dragging MS. 1, Bijou. 

42-4 That only serves to make me grieve 

Now I am old ! 
Now I am old, — ah woful Now MS. 1. 
44-5 In our old age 

Whose bruised wings quarrel with the bars of the still 
narrowing cage. Inserted in 1882. 


Like some poor nigh-related guest, 
That may not rudely be dismist ; 
Yet hath outstay 'd his welcome while, 
And tells the jest without the smile. 


Or, Tlie Flower-Thief's Apology, for a robbery committed in Mr. and 

Mrs. 's garden, on Sunday morning, 25th of May, 1823, between the 

hours of eleven and twelve. 

"Fie, Ml*. Coleridge! — and can this be you? 

Break two commandments? and in church-time too! 

Have you not heard, or have you heard in vain. 

The birth-and-parentage-recording strain ? — 

Confessions shrill, that out-shrill'd mack'rel drown 5 

Fresh from the drop — the youth not yet cut down — 

Letter to sweet-heart — the last dying speech — 

And didn't all this begin in Sabbath-breach ? 

You, that knew better ! In broad open day, 

Steal in, steal out, and steal our flowers away? 10 

What could possess you ? Ah ! sweet youth, I fear 

The chap with horns and tail was at your ear ! " 

Such sounds of late, accusing fancy brought 

From fair Chisholm to the Poet's thought. 

Now hear the meek Parnassian youth's reply : — 15 

A bow" — a pleading look — a downcast eye, — 

And then: 

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. 0., 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. 

49 Two lines irere added in 1S32 : — 

O might Life cease ! and Selfless Mind, 

Whose total Being is Act, alone remain behind. 

The Reproof, &c. — Title] The Reproof and Reply (the alternative title is 
omitted) 1884. 


" Fair djiino I a vision.aiy wight, 
Hard l)y your liill-side mansion sparkling while, 
llib thoughts all hovering round the Muses' home, 
Long hath it been your Poet's wont to roam, 20 

And many a morn, on his becharmed sense 
iSo rich a stream of music issued thence. 
Ho deem'd himjself, as it flowed warl>ling on, 
Ik'side the vocal fount of Helicon I 

But when, as if to settle the concern, :^ 

A Nymph too he beheld, in many a turn. 
Guiding the sweet rill from its fontal urn, — 
Say, can you blame ? — No ! none that saw and heard 
Could blame a bard, that he thus inly stirr'd ; 
A muse beholding in each fervent trait, 30 

Took Mary H for Polly Hymnia ! 

Or haply as there stood beside the maid 

One loftier form in sable stole array'd, 

If with regretful thought he hail'd in thcc 

Chisholm, his long-lost friend, Mol Pomene ! 35 

But most of ?/ow, soft warblings, I complain I 

'Twas ye that from the bee-hive of my brain 

Did lure the fancies forth, a freakish rout. 

And witch'd the air with dreams turn'd inside out. 

•'Thus all conspir'd — each power of eye and ear, 40 

And this gay month, th' enchantress of the year, 

To cheat poor me (no conjuror, God wot !) 

And Chisholm's self accomplice in the plot. 

Can you then wonder if I went astray? 

Not bards alone, nor lovers mad as they; — 45 

All Nature day-dreams in the month of May. 

And if I pluck'd 'each flower that siveetest blows,' — 

Who walks in sleep, needs follow must his iwsr. 

Thus, long accustom'd on the twy-fork'd liill,^ 

To pluck both flower and floweret at my will ; 50 

The garden's maze, like No-man's-land, I tread, 

Nor common law, nor statute in my head ; 

For my own proper smell, sight, fancy, feeling, 

' The English Parnassus is remarkable for its two summits of unequal 
height, the lower denominated Hampstead, the higher Highgate. 

31 Mary H ] Mary 18o4, 1844. 38 Did lure tlio] Lured the 

wild F. 0. 1S84. 


With autocratic hand at once repealing 
Five Acts of Parliament 'gainst private stealing ! 55 

But yet from Chisholm who despairs of grace? 
There 's no spring-gun or man-trap in that face ! 
Let Moses then look black, and Aaron blue, 
That look as if they had little else to do : 
For Chisholm speaks, ^ Poor youth ! he 's but a waif ! 60 
The spoons all right? the hen and chickens safe? 
Well, well, he shall not forfeit our regards — 
The Eighth Commandment was not made for Bards I ' " ^ 


O FAiK is Love's lirst 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 
Meets it with brow uplift, and stays his reaping. 
? 1824. 


Some are home-sick — some two or three, 
Their third year on the Arctic Sea — 

^ Compare ^ The Eighth Commandment was not made for Love', 1. IG of 
Elegy I of The Love Elegies of Abel Shufflebottom, by E. Southey. 

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 : ' Apretty 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 

3 From an hitherto unpublished MS., formerly in the possession of 
Coleridge's friend and amanuensis Joseph Henry Green. 

First AdvenI of Love — Title] Love's First Hoj)e ISO'S. 


Bravo Captain Lyon tells us so ' — 

Spite of those charming Esquimaux. 

But O. what scores are sick of Home, 5 

Agog for Paris or for Rome I 

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 

'Tvvould such a vulgar taste betray, 

For very shame you must away ! 

• What ? not yet seen the coast of France I 

The folks will swear, for lack of bail. 

You've spent your last five years in jail I ' 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, ao 

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 ! 35 

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 — 

^ The Private Journal of Captain G. F. Lyon of the Mf. 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 
tar better than I am, are enchanted with his book.' Memoirs . . . of John 
Murray, 18«J1, i. 145. 


(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 Eocwier. 

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 clift's of Dinnptoii B;iy/ 

Wlieit', Ramsgato aiul Bruadstairs between, 

Riulo caves and <^a-atetl doors are seen : 

And lioro I'll watch till break of day, 

(For Fancy in her nia^^ic might 85 

Can turn broad noon to starless night!) 

When lo I 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 I 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 conies in view 

I hear the merry motley crew, 

Well skiird 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 no 

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-ajDples and spices. 

Of all the children of .John Bull r2o 

With empty heads and bellies full, 

A coast village near Ramsgate. Coleridge passed some weeks af 

Ramsgate in the late autumn of 1824. 


Who mmble 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 ! 



All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair— 

The bees are stirring — birds are on the wing — - 

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, ye amaranths ! bloom for whom ye may, 
For me ye bloom not ! Glide, rich streams, away ! lo 
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll : 
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul ? 
W^ork without Hojdc draws nectar in a sieve, 
And Hope without an object cannot live. 

1 First printed in the Bijou for 1828 : included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. 
These lines, as published in the Bijoic 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. 

2 Compare the last stanza of George Herbert's Praise : — 

O raise me thus ! Poor Bees that work all daj^. 

Sting my delay, 
Who have a work as well as they, 

And much, much more. 

Tf"o)7f Without Hoi-)e — Title] Lines composed on a day in Febj-uary. By 
S. T. Coleridge, Esq. Bijou : Lines composed on the 21st of February, 1827 
j'.9?,9, 1829, 1834. 

I Slugs] Snails erased MS. S. T. C. : Stags 1S28, 1829, 1885. 

II ^ With unmoist lip and wreathless brow I stroll 
With lips unmoisten'd wreathless brow I stroll MS. S. T. C. 



found writtt.n on the blank leaf at the beginning of butlers 
'book of the church' (1825) 


1 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,- 
With cloven tongue prepared to hiss and lick, 
Rome's Brazen Serpent — boldly dares discuss 
The roasting of thy heart, O brave John Huss I 10 

And with grim triumph and a truculent glee-' 
Absolves anew the Pope-wrought perfidy, 

^ First published in the Evening Standard, May 21, 1827. ' The poem signed 
E2TH2E 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 Soutliey devotes pp. 470-506 to an excursus on 
'The Rosary' — the invention of St. Dominic. Hence the title— ' Sancti 
Dominici Pallium '. 

2 These lines were written before this Prelate's decease. Standard, 1827. 
^ Truculent : a tribrach as the isochronous substitute for the Trochee 

— w. 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 Spirit, sprite ; Honey, money, nobody, 
&c. MS. S. T. C. 

Sancti Dominici Pallium, &c. Title]— A dialogue written on a Blank Page 
of Butler's Book of the Roman Catholic Church. Sd. 1827. 
7. Milner] 183i, 1852 : Butler 1898. 


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 — 


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 I) 


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 miglit 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? 


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 shoivn feeling points a different way. 
Smooth Butler can say grace at slander's feast, ^ 
And bless each haut-gout cook'd by monk or priest ; 

1 • Smooth Butler.' See the Kev. Blanco White's Letter to C. Butler, 

Esq. MS. S. T. C, Sd. 1827. 

17 Milner— Milner] , 1884, 1852 : Butler— Butler iS9S. Yet 

Milner] Yet Miln— Sd. 1827. 25 Who with a zeal that passed Sd. 

1827. 30 spear] helm Sd. 1827. 32 beckoning] proflered Sd. 

1827. 34 Milner] msi, 1852'. Bntlev 1898. boasts] lauds 

Sd. 1827. 35 repeat] reply Sd. 1827. 38 or] and Sd. 1827. 


Leaves tli«- full lie on Milner's gong to swell, 

Content with half-tiiiths that do just as well; 40 

But duly decks his mitred comrade's flanks,^ 

And with him shares the Irisli nation's thanks! 

ISo much lor 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 ])y the blood and soot of Cobbett's ink, 
And Jeffrey s glairy phlegm and Connor's foam, 
In search oi some safe parable I roam — 
An emblem sometimes may comprise a tome I 

Disclaimant of his uncauglit grandsire's mood, 50 

I see a tiger lapping kitten's food : 
And who shall blame him that he purs aj^plause, 
When brother Brindle pleads the good old cause ; 
And frisks his 2)retty 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. 


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! 

1 'Your coadjutor the Titular Bishop Milner '—Bishop of Castabala 
I had called him, till I learnt from the present pamphlet that lie had 
been translated to the see of Billingsgate.' Vind. Ed. AngL 1826, p. 228, 

' First published in 1828 : included in 1852, 1885, and 1893. A MS. 
version (undated) is inscribed in a notebook. 

39 Milner's] 's 1S84, 1852: Butler's 1S03. 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. 

Sojif/— Title] Love, a Sword 1898. 

1 Tho' hid in spiral myrtle wreath MS. 2 which] that MS. 

3 slits itself hath made MS. 4 flashes] glitter MS. 

SONG 451 

But through the clefts itself has made 
We likewise see Love's flashing blade, 
By rust consumed, or snapt in twain ; 
And only hilt and stump remain. 


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, lo 

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 

* First published in 1834. It is probable that the immediate pro- 
vocation 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 {A71 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 

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— Title] A Trifle MS. J. P. C. 

I for] 'mongst MS. B. M. 2 amongst] among /. 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. 



At I'Huth the matter to determine, 
He i)u))licly denounced the vermin : 
He spurod the mouse, he praised the owl ; 
But l)at.s were neither flesh nor fowl. 
Blood-sucker, vampire, harpy, goal, 25 

Came in full clatter from his throat. 
Till his old nest-mates chang'd their note 
To hireling, traitor, and turncoat, — 
A })ase apostate who had sold 

His very teeth and claws for gold : — 30 

And then his feathers I — 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 I 
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 vohis, 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, 

22 denounced] disowned MS. B. M. 31 sharp] smoke MS. B. M. 

36 Joseph] Judas MS. B. M. 


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 "Eo-xT/o-e ; 
('Tis Punic Greek for 'he hath stood!') 
Whate'er the men, the cause was good ; 
And therefore with a right good w411, 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 ; — So 

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 ! 

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 E2TH2E ; 
(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. 




'TwAS my last wakinp: thoiif^^lit, how it could he 
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. 
' First published in the Annual Register for 1827 : reprinted in the Bijo7i 
for 1828: included in 1828, 1829, 1834. ' In GilchrisV a Life of Blake 
(1863, i. 887) it is stated that this poem was addressed to Mrs. Aders, 
the daughter of the engraver Raphael Smith.' P. W., 1892, p. 642. 

Title] Stanzas addiessed to a Lady on her Recovery from a Severe 
attack of Pain Annual Register. 

II That— this] TJiat—ihis 182S, 1829. 14 That] That 1823, 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 it.s 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. 182G. 


Even so, Eliza ! on that face of thine, 25 

On that benignant face, whose look alone 

(The soul's transliicence 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, 

sweet, sweet sufferer ; if the case be so, 

1 pray thee, be less good, less sweet, less wise ! 

In every look a barbed 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 ! 


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, 

3^earning 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 

^ 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 11. 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. 

31 tort'ring] fost'ring Annual Register, Bijou. 44 less — less — less] 

less— Jess— less 182S, 1829. 47 any] amj 1828, 1829. 


Fond Tliouglit ! not- one of nil that shining swarm 

Will hroathe on thee with lile-enkindling breath, 

Till when, like strangers shelt'ring from a storm, ^ 

Hope and Despair meet in the porch of Death ! lo 

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 becalmed 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 ' with a glorj^ round its head ; 30 

The enamoured rustic worships its fair hues. 
Nor knows he makes the shadow, he pursues ! 
? 1826. 

' 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 (1798-18L7) ; vide 
Appendices of this edition. 

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 Refection : — 

' 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 
liim with a Glory round its head, or recoils from it as a Spectre.' — Aids 
to Reflection [1825], p. 220. 

8 thee] thee JS2S, 1829. 13 embodied] embodied ]828, 1829. 

14 living] living 1828, 1829. 32 makes] snakes 1828, 1829. 



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 ; — 
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 ! 

Yes! he hath flitted from me — with what aim, 

Or why, I know not ! 'Twas a home of bliss, lo 

And he was innocent, as the pretty shame 

Of babe, that tempts and shuns the menaced kiss, 

^ 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 witli Asbest Lamp bewails the Corse.' 


From its tu'y-cluster'd hiding placo of Riiow ! 
Pure as tlie babe, I ween, and all aglow 
As the dear hopes, that swell the mother's breast — 15 
Her eyes down gazing o'er her claspt'd charge ; — 
Yet gay as that twice haj^py 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 I 20 


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 ! 


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 ^ 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 ! 

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. 

^ Faerie Queene, b. iii. c. 2, s, 19. 


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. 



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, 

1 First published in 1828 : included in 1829 and 1834. The MS. of the 
first draft, dated Sept. 2, 1826, is preceded liy 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, 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.' 

4 When thy own body first the example set. MS. S. T. C. 


Hatlst tliou wiihlu'ld thy love or liid thy liujht 5 

In selfish forethought of neglect and slight. 
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. 


' 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 da}-, 5 

The Ijarb in Memory's dart, 

To him w^ho walks alone through Life, 

The desolate in heart. 


OB. ANNO DOM. 1088 

No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope 
Soon shall I now before my God appear, 

' First published in the Literary Magnet, January, 1827, p. 71. First col- 
lected in 1893. A transcript, possibly in Mrs, Gillman's handwriting, is 
inscribed on the fly-leaf of a copy of Bartram's Traveh in Soxith Carolina 
whicli 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 Athenaevm. 

2 First published in the Literary Souvenir, 1827. The Epitaphiinn Tcsla- 
mmtarium (vide post, p. 462) is printed in a footnote to the word 
* Berengarius '. Included in 1828, 1820, and 1834. 

5-1 1 om. MS. S.T.C. 8 While— on whom] While—on whom 1S2S, 

1829. 9 object] Body MS, S. T. C. 13 are] are ]828, ]S29. 14 thee— 
were] thee— were J828, 1829. 

Homeless— Title] An Impromptu on Christmas Day L. M. 1827. 

4 from] for L. M. 1827, 

LINES 461 

By him to be acquitted, as I hope ; 
By him to be condemned, as I fear. — 


Lynx amid moles I 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 lo 

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 — 

first the age, and then the man compare ! so 

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 


13 learned] learned L. S. 19 recreant] recreant L. S., 182S, 1829. 

23 his] his L. S. 32 shall] will L. S., 1S28, 1829. 34 th' approaching] 
the coming L. S. 



To Tov 'K^THSK Tov (niOuvuvs Epitapliiuiii tostamontarium avruypa^pov. 

Quae liiii|uain. aut nihil, aut niliili, aut vix sunt niea. Sordes 
Do Morti : reddo caetera, Christe ! tibi. 

"Epoj? ad XdXi]Ofjo<i erat/jos "^ 

In many ways dues the full heart I'eveal 

The presence of the love it would conceal ; 

But in far more th' estranged heart lets know 

The absence of the love, which yet it fain would shew. 




Scene — A spcicious drawiny-rooni, with music-room adjoining. 

Katharine. What are the words? 

Eliza. Ask our friand, the Improvisatore ; here he comes. 

^ 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. 

^ 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. 65-152, and to 
' Poems written in Later Life', 1852, pp. 319-78. 

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, 

Title] EniTA*ION ATTOrPAHTON L. R., 1844 : emeavois] kmdavovs L. S. 
The emendation kmOavovs (i. e. moribund) was suggested by the 
Reader of Macmillan's edition of 1893. Other alternatives, e.g. 
emSevovs (the lacking), to the word as misprinted in the Literary Souvenir 
liave been suggested, but there can be no doubt that what Coleridge 
intended to imply was that he was near his end. 
Greek motto : "Epcu? det \d\os 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. 


Kate has a favour to ask of you, Sir ; it is that you will repeat 

the ballad ^ 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. 

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

Fri. You mean Charles' speech to Angelina, in The Elder 
Brother ^ 

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 — (/"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 

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 Improvibatrice published in 1824. 

^ ' Believe me if all those endearing young charms,' 

^ 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 '. 


remain so. It will ho asked whether I am not the 'elderly 
j^^entleman ' who sate ' beside a clear stream ', with a 
willow for his wig block. 

Elie. Say another word, and we will call it downright 

Kafh. No ! we will be all'ronted, 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 — 

Lttcins {Eliza's brother, tvJio had just joined the trio, in a 
ivhisper 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 ! 

j&?2>. Off ! Off ! Now, dear Sir, — Love, you were saying — 

Fri. Hush ! Preaching, you mean, Eliza. 

Eli2. {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 w^ell-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 ivord that would make 
it understand itself. 

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


Fri. I mean that nnlJing sense of the insufficingness of 

the self for itself, which predisposes a generous nature to see, 
in the total being of another, the su^Dplement and completion 
of its own ; — that quiet perpetual seeMng 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 ! 

Kaili. 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, cold- 
ness, 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 Hhe 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 sensa- 
tion of their own value is, for the most part, grounded on 


negative qualities, so they have no better means of preserving 
the same hut hy ucf/ativrs — that is, by not doing or sayint? any 
tiling, that might be put down for fond, silly, or nonsensical ; 
— or (to use their own phrase) by mincer forgetting themselves, 
which some of their acquaintance are uncharitable enough to 
think the most worthless object they could be employed in 

Eli.:, {in ansiver 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 yon, 
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 
l^ossessed 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 ; lo 

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 helief, gave life a zest — 

Uncertain both what it had been, 

And if by error lost, or luck ; 

And what it ivas ; — 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 ; 
111 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 (limniM liis «»yr. it darken'd on his brow, 
A peevish mood, u 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 j^roof 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 ! 


[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, 

1 First published in 1893. Lines 7-10 are borrowed from lines 5-8 of 
the 'Answer ex imi^roviso', which forms part of the Improvisatore (11. 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. 

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. 


The boon prefigur'd in his earliest wish 

Crown of his cup and garnish of his dish ! 

The fair fultihiient of his poesy, 

When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy ! lo 

Dear tho' unseen ! unseen, yet long portray'd ! 

A Father's blessing on thee, gentle Maid ! 

S. T. Coleridge. 

16th October 1827. 




' 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, lo 

Your lord and master for to be. 

And you his lady gay. 

Lady ! throw your book aside ! 

1 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, 

^ First published in 1834. The date of composition cannot be ascer- 
tained. 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 '. 

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

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

A7() ALTCK 1)(^ TM.OS 

The gold star on its lnow. her sire's .'Uicestral crest! 
For ere the hirk hud loft his nest, jo 

She in tlie garden bower bel<>w 
Sate loosely wrapt in maiden white. 
Her face iialf 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 i^rideful scorn 
Of flight and fear he stay'd beliind, 

To brave th' advancing morn. 

! Alice could read passing well, 35 

And slie 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? 

19-25 Her sires had chosen for their Crest 

A star atwixt its brow. 
For she, ah-eady up and drest 
Sate in the garden bower below. 
For she enwrapt in' 

Eri„.>-nr.<- ," ^ V, c\ Maiden wliitc 
nwrapt in robe of 

(■face half drooping 

Herj viaagc droopin g from the sight 

A snow-drop in a tuft of snow 

Ere the first lark had left the nest 

Sate in the garden boAver below. MS. erased. 


• 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 wa!§ 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 

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. 

j s tormy 
54-7 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 Bavk 
Tliat [ tumbling mainward from 

Toil'd in the deep Sea-trough. MS. erased. 
56 shouldering] wheeling MS. erased. 61 A moment's pause MS. 


65 Yon May- thorn tree dimly — 

or fairly flower yon may-thorn tree 3IS. erased. 
69 lightsome] glittering MS. 


With ylittoring to a smile, 
TliP ^^ay maid on the gaiden-stile 

Mimics the hunter's shout. 
'Hip! Florian, hi}) ! 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 liis 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 w^as 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 w^ood. 100 

And w4th 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 

71 Witli] The MS. 76 Lord Julian in the Greenwood stays MS. erased. 

87 With buskins and with quiver MS. erased. 100 huntsmen] hunts- 

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


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, no 

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? 
Oj 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 

107 He look'd far round MS. b. no sore] sair MS. b, MS erased. 

Ill 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. 


* You sent betimes. Not yet unbarr'd 

I found the middle duor ; — 
Two stiiTors 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 lo&t, 

No great loss, I divine ; 1 50 

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, — 

153-7 [Lord Julian cry'd 

God's wrntli ! speak out! jwiuit mean'st thou man? 

jj^ecoiling with a start 

I Cried Julian with a start. 

I well-feign' d anger 
With jfeign'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 

soofting phrase MS. erased. 


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. 


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. 

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 Amnlei, 1833. 

173-4 And who from twixt those opening Trees 

Pricks on with laughing cheer MS. erased {first draft). 
Love's Biirial-PIace — Title] The Alienated Mistress : A Madrigal (From 
an unfinished Melodrama) 1828, 1853. 

1-3 Lady. If Love be dead (and you aver it !) 

Tell mo Bard ! \vhere Love lies buried. 1S28, 1852. 
5 Ah faithless nymph 18:28, 1852. 7 call] name 1828, 1852. 


And on that toinlj to read the line : — 

' Here lies a Love that once seem'd mine, 

But caucfht a chill, as I divine, lo 

And (lied at length of a Decline.' 



What though the chilly vvide-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 i 

(That Turk, Dan Phoebus, whom bards call divine. 

Was married to —at least, he kept— all nine) 

Fled, but still with reverted faces ran ; 

Yet, somewhat the broad freedoms to excuse, 

The}' had allured the audacious Greek to use, ic 

Swore they mistook him for their own good man. 

This Momus— Aristophanes on earth 

Men call'd him — maugre all his wit and worth, 

1 First published in Friendship's Offering, 1834, as No. Ill of ^ Light- 
lieartednesses in Rliyme ' : included in 1834. 

9 seem'd] was 1828, 1852. lo caught] took 1828, 1852. 

Lines to a Comic Author, <tc. — Title] To a Comic Author on an abusive 
review of his Aristophanes MS. 

I foil. 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 Phcebus 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. 

LINES 477 

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 ! ' 


In K5hln-, a town of monks and bones ^, 
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 Khine, it is well known. 
Doth wash your city of Cologne ; 
But tell me. Nymphs, what power divine 
Shall henceforth wash the river Khine ^? 10 




As I am a Rhymer"', 
And now at least a merry, one, 
Mr. Mum's Rudesheimer "^ 
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. 

1 First published in Friendship's Offering, 1834, as No. IV of ' Light- 
heartednesses in Rliyme '. It follows the lines • On my joyful Departure', 
&c., and is headed ' Expectoration the Second '. First collected in 1834. 

2 K5hln] Coin i^.O. The German Name of Cologne. F.O. 
^ Of the eleven thousand virgin Martyrs. F.O. 

* 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. 

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. 

" 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. 

' The apotheosis of Rhenish wine. 



Or lat»'. in one of those most weary hours, 

When life seems emptied of all genial powers, 

A dreary mood, which he who ne'«'r 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 aliki^ 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 

Friend ^ I long wont to notice yet conceal. 
And soothe by silence what words cannot heal. 

1 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 si:)irit 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. 
Gazed 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 w^inds and waves ; 
Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids, 

^ First publislied in The Kee2)sake for 1829, to accompany a plate by 
Stothard: included in 1829 and 1834. The variant of lines 49-5G, 
probably a fragment of some earlier unprinted poem, is inserted in 
one of Coleridge's Notebooks. - Mrs. Gillman. 


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, j^et 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, .^5 

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, 

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 ilower and stone. 
As youtli's fairy playfellows 
Kevealed to Innocence alone. MS. S. T. C. 

59 all] all Keepsake, 1829. 


And always f.iir, raiv land of courtesy ! 

O Florence I 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 w^ith 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 daw^n ; — 

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 ; ^ 

But from his mantle's fold, and near the heart, 

Peers Ovid's Holy Book of Love's sweet smart ! - 100 

^ Boccaccio claimed for himself the glory of having first introduced 
the works of Homer to his countrymen, 

^ I know few more striking or more interesting proofs of the over- 
whelming 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. 
' Incomincio Kacheo 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, 
11. 33-5 [loc. cit], The hohj Book— Ovid's Art of Love ! ! This is not the 
result of mere Immorality : — 

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


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 winged 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 ! 


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. 

1 First published in The KeejJsake for 1830 : included in P. W., 1834, iii. 831. 
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 Denvent's Breakfast, 1839). With regard to the variant of 
11. 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. Piii 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 Piii 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.' 

loB vestal] vestal Keepsake, 1829. 

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 1S29 : 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. 


Mt'thinks, I .see tlicm pfioup'd in Rpemly show, 
Tho straitenM arms upraised, the pahns aslope, lo 

And rohcs that touching as adown tliey flow, 
Distinctly l)lon(]. liko snow emhoss'd in snow. 

O i>art thorn n('V<'r ! If Hope prostrate lie, 

LovG too will sink and die. 
But Love is sul>tle, and doth proof derive 15 

From her own life that Hope is yet alive ; 
And bonding 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. 


Verse, pictures, music, thoughts both grave and gay, 

Remembrances of dear-loved friends away, 

On spotless page of virgin white displaj^ed, 

Such should thine Album be, for such art thou, sweet maid ! 


^ 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. 

9-1 1 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, Jidy 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. 



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. 

SONG, ex imiproviso ^ 


'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. 

^ First published in the Neio York Mirror for Dec. 19, 1829 : reprinted 
in The Athenaeum^ May 3, 1884 : first collected in 1893. 

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. 

Lines Written, &c. — Title] Lines written . . . daughter of the late 
Minister to England. Athenaeum 1884. 

Song, &c. — 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,