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Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest! Ye eagles, play-mates of the mountain-storm! Ye lightwings, the dread arrows of the clouds! Ye signs and wonders of the element! Uiter forth God, and fill the bills with praise !
My native land! Filld with the thought of thee this heart was proud, Yea, mine eye swam with tears: that all the view From sovran Brocken, woods and woody 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, That man's sublimer spirit, who can feel That God is everywhere! the God who framed Mankind to be one mighty Family, Himself our Father, and the World our Home.
Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, Oft from whose feet the Avalanche, unheard, Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serenc Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breastThou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou That as I raise my head, awhile bow'd low In adoration, upward from thy base Slow travelling with dim cyes suffused with tears, Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud, To risc before me- Rise, ( ever rise, Rise like a cloud of incense, from the earth! Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, Thou dread Ambassador from Earth to leaven, Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent sky, And tell the Stars, and tell yon rising sun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.
WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT ELBINGERODE, IN TUJE
ON OBSERVING A BLOSSOM ON THE FIRST
OF FEBRUARY, 1796. Sweet Flower! that peeping from thy russet stem Unfoldest timidly (for in strange sort This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering month Hath borrow'd Zepliyr's voice, and gazed upon thee With blue voluptuous eye), alas, poor Flower! These are but flatteries of the faithless year. Perchance, escaped its unknown polar cave, E'en 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, Nipp'd by Consumption 'mid untimely charms? Or to Bristowa's Bard,' the wondrous boy! An Amaranth, which carth scarce seem'd to own, Till Disappointment came, and pelting wrong Peat it to earth? or with ndignant grief Shall I compare thee to poor Poland's Hope, Bright flower of llope killd 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 From anxious SELF, Life's cruel Task-Master! And the warm wooings of this sunny day Tremble along my frame and harmonize The attemper'd organ, that even saddest thoughts Mix with some sweet sensations, like harsh tunes Play'd defuy on a soft-toned instrument.
I stood on Brocken's sovran height, and saw
THE EOLIAN HARP.
COMPOSED AT CLEVEDON, SOMERSETSHIRE. My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined Thus on minc arm, most soothing sweet it is To sit beside our cot, our col o'ergrown With white-llower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leaved Myrtle, (Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!) And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light, Slow saddening round, and mark the star of eve Serencly brilliant (such should wisdom be) Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents Snatch'd froin von bean-field! and the world so hush'a ! The stilly murmur of the distant Sea Tells us of Silence.
Heaven de the Sun
a living flowers our feet nations God! zlarlsome voice! soul-like sounds!
· The highest mountain in the Hartz, and indeed in North Germany.
When I have gazed
SOUTHEY's Hymn to the Penates.
And that simplest Lute, Placed length-ways in the clasping cascment, hark ! How by the desultory breeze caress'd, Like some coy maid half yielding to her lover,
It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs
Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye. Tempt to repeat the wrong! And now,
It was a spot which you might aptly call Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes
The Valley of Seclusion! Once I saw Over delicious surges sink and rise,
(Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quietness) Such a soft floating witchery of sound
A wealthy son of commerce saunter by, As twilight Elfins make, when they at eve
Bristowa's citizen : methoughi, it calm d Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land,
His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse Where Melodies round honey-dropping flowers, With wiser feelings : for he paused, and look'd Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise,
With a pleased sadness, and gazed all around, Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untamed wing! Then eyed our cottage, and gazed round agaio, O the one life within us and abroad,
And sigh’d, and said, it was a blessed place. Which meets all motion and becomes its soul,
And we were bless'd. Oft with patient car A light in sound, a sound-like power in light,
Long-listening to the view less sky-lark's note Rhythm in all thought, and joyance every where- (Viewless or haply for a moment seen Methinks, it should have been impossible
Gleaming on sunny wings), in whisper'd tones Not to love all things in a world so filld;
I've said to my beloved, « Such, sweet girl! Where the breeze warbles, and the mute still air
The inobtrusive song of Happiness, Is Music slumbering on her instrument.
Unearthly ininstrelsy! then only heard
When the soul sceks to hear; when all is hush'd, And thus, my love! as on the midway slope
And the Heart listens ! »
But the time, when first The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main,
From that low dell, steep up the stony Mount And tranquil muse upon tranquillity;
I climb'd with perilous toil and reach'd the top, Full many a thought uncall d and undetain's,
Ol! what a goodly scene! Here the bleak Mount, And many idle flitting phantasies,
The bare bleak Mountain speckled thin with sheep; Traverse my indolent and passive brain,
Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields; As wild and various as the random gales
And River, now with bushy rocks o'erbrow'd, That swell and Mutter on this subject lute!
Now winding bright and full, with naked banks;
And Seats, and Lawns, the Abbey and the Wood, And what if all of animated nature
And Cois, and Hamlets, and faint City-spire; Be but organic harps diversely framed,
The Channel there, the Islands and white Sails, That tremble into thoughi, as o'er them sweups,
Dim Coasts, and cloud-like Hills, and shoreless OceanPlastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,
It seem'd like Omnipresence! God, methoughi, At once the Soul of each, and God of All?
Vad built him there a Temple: the whole World
Seem'd imaged in its vast circumference, But thy more serious eye a mild reproof
No wish profaned my overwhelmed heart.
Blest hour! It was a luxury,-lo be!
Ah! quiet dell; dear cot, and mount sublime! Meek daughter in the family of Christ !
I was constrain'd to quit you. Was it right, Well hast thou said and holily dispraised
While my uppumber'd brethren toild and bled, These shapings of the unregenerate mind;
That I should dream away the entrusted hours Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break
On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart On vain Pluilosophy's aye-babbling spring.
With feelings all too delicate for use? For never guiltless may I speak of him,
Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's eye The Incomprehensible! save when with awe
Drops on the cheek of One he lifts from Earth: I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels;
And ile that works me good with unmoved face, Who with his saving mercics healed me,
Does it but half: he chills me wliile he aids, A sinful and most miserable Man,
My Benefactor, not my Brother Man! Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess
Yet even this, this cold beneficence
The Sluggard Piry's vision-weaving tribe!
Nursing in some delicious solitude
I therefore go, and join head, heart, and hand,
Active and firm, to fight the bloodless fight
Of Science, Freedom, and the Truth in Christ.
Low was our pretty Cot: our tallest rose
Yet oft, when after honourable toil
Ah!-had none greater! And that all had such !
TO THE REV. GEORGE COLERIDGE OF
OTTERY ST MARY, DEVON.
Loved as a brother, as a son revered thee!
WITH SOME POEMS.
Notus in fratres animi paterni,
Hor. Carm. lib. i. 2.
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 Or that sad wisdom folly leaves behind, Or such as, tuned to these tumultuous times, Cope with the tempest's swell!
A blessed lot hath he, who having pass'd
These various strains, Which I have framed in many a various mood, Accept, my Brother! and (for some perchance Will strike discordant on thy milder mind) If aught of Error or in temperate Truth Should meet thine ear, think thou that riper age Will calm it down, and let thy love forgive it!
To me th' Eternal Wisdom hath dispensed A different fortune and more different mindMe 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 Some have preserved 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 Dropp'd the collected shower; and some most false, False and fair foliaged as the Manchineel, Have tempted me to slumber in their share 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 Who gives us all things, more have yielded me Permanent shelter; and beside one Friend, Beneath th' impervious covert of one Oak, I've raised a lowly shed, and know the names Of Ilusband and of Father; nor unhearing Of that divine and nighty-whispering Voice, Which from my childhood to maturer years Spake to me of predestinated wreaths, Bright with no fading colours !
INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN ON A HEATH.
cold waters to the traveller
Yet at times My soul is sad, that I have roand through life Still most a stranger, most with naked heart At mine own home and birth-place: chiefly then, When I remember thee, my earliest Friend! Thee, who didst watch my boyhood and my youth; Didst trace my wanderings with a father's eye; And boding evil, yet still hoping good, Rebuked 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 loved thee ever,
A TOMBLESS EPITAPH. 'T is true, Idoloclastes Satyrane! (So call him, for so mingling blame with praise, And smiles with anxious looks, bis earliest friends, Masking his birth-name, wont to character His wild-wood fancy and impetuous zeal) 'T is 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, 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, 't is true,
The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two isles Whole years
weary days, besieged him clos, Of purple shadow! Yes, they wander on Even to the gates and inlets of his life!
In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad, But it is true, no less, that strenuous, firm,
My gen:le-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined And with a natural gladness, he maintain 'd
And hunger'd after Nature, many a year, The citadel unconquer'd, and in joy
In the great city pent, winning thy way Was strong to follow the delightful Muse.
With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain For not a hidden Path, that to the Shades
And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Of the beloved Parnassian forest leads,
Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! Luck'd undiscover'd by him; not a rill
Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, There issues from the fount of Hippocrene,
Ye purple beath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds ! But he had traced it upward to its source,
Live in the yellow liglie, ye distant groves! Through open glade, dark glen, and secret dell, And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my Friend, knew the gay wild flowers on its banks, and cull'd Struck with deep joy, may stand, as I have stood, Jts med'cinable herbs. Yea, oft alone,
Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round Piercing the long-neglected holy cave,
On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth secm The haunt obscure of old Philosoplıy,
Less gross than bodily; and of such lues He bade with lifted torch its starry walls
As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes
Spirits perceive his presence.
Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad Philosophier! contemning wealth and death,
As I myself were there! Nor in this bower, Yet docile, childlike, full of life and love!
This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd
Much that has soothed me. Pale beneath the blaze Here, rather than on monumental stone, This record of thy worth thy Friend inscribes,
Dung ihe iransparent foliage; and I watch'd
Some broad and sunny leaf, and loved to see
Dappling its sunshine! And that Walnut-tree
Was richly tinged, and a deep radiance lay
Those fronting clms, and now, with blackest mass, In tbe June of 1797, some long-expected Friends paid a visit to the
Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter lue Author's Cottage ; and on the morning of their arrival, he met with an acident, which disabled him from walking durin; the Through the late twilighit: and though now the Bat whole time of their stas. One Evening, wben they had left him Wheels silent by, and not a Swallow twitters, for a few hours, he composed the following lines in the Garden Yet still the solitary humble Dee Bower.
Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know
That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure : Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,
No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, This Lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost
No waste so vacant, but may well employ Beauties and feelings, such as would have been
Each faculty of sense,
and keep the heart Most sweet lo my remembrance, even when age llad dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile,
Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes
"T is well to be bereft of promised good, Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath, along the hill-top edge,
That we may lift the soul, and contemplate Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance,
With lively joy the joys we cannot share.
My gentle-hearted Charles ! when the last Rook To that still roaring dell, of which I told :
Beat its straight path along the dusky air The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep,
Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing And only speckled by the mid-day sun;
(Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light) Where its slim trunk the Ash from rock to rock
Had cross'd the mighty Orly's dilated glory, Flings arching like a bridge;—that branchless Ash,
While thou stood'sı yazing; or when all was still, Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still,
Flew creaking o'er thy head, and had a charm
For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, lo whom
No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.
TO A FRIEND
WHO HAD DECLARED HIS INTENTION OF WRITING NO
Dear Charles! whilst vet thou wert a babe, I ween Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sca,
That Genius plunged thee in that wizard fount With some fair bark, perhaps, wliose sails light up
Some months after I had written this line, it gave me pleasure The Asplenium Scolopendrium, called in some countries the to observe that Bartram had observed the same circumstance of the Adder's Tongue, in otbers ibe Hart's Tongue; but Withering gives Savanna Crane. - When these Birds move their wings in flight, the Adder's Topgue as the trivial name of the Ophioglossum only. ibeir strokes are slow, moderate and regular; and even when at a
Hight Castalie : and (surcties of thy faith)
And currents self-determined, as inight scem,
Or by some inner Power; of moments awful,
When Power stream'd from thee, and thy soul received Stedfast and rooted in the heavenly Muse,
The light reflected, as a light bestow'd--
Of Fancies fair, and milder hours of youth,
Industrious in its joy, in Vales and Glens
Native or outland, Lakes and famous Hills! Thou 'rt flying from thy bounden ministeries
Or on the lonely High-road, when the Stars
Were rising; or by secret Mountain-streams,
Of more than Fancy, of the Social Sense
Where France in all her towns lay vibrating • Without the meed of one melodious tear?,
Like some becalmed bark bencath the burst Thy Burns, and Nature's own beloved Bard,
Of licaven's immediate thunder, when no cloud Who to the Illustrious ? of his native land
Is visible, or shadow on the Main. So properly did look for patronage.»
For thou wert there, thine own brows garlanded,
Amid the tremor of a realm aglow,
Amid a mighty nation jubilant,
When from the general lieart of human kind
Hope sprang forth like a full-born Deity!
--Of that dear Hope afflicted and struck down,
So sumınon d homeward, thenceforth calm and sure, On a bleak rock, midway the Aonian Mount, There stands a lonc and melancholy tree,
From the dread watcl-tower of man's absolute Self,
With light upwaning on her eyes, to look Whose aged branches in the midnight blast
Far on-herself a glory to behold, Make solemn m:sic : pluck its darkest bough,
The Angel of the vision! Then (last strain)
Of Duty, chosen laws controlling choice,
Action and Joy!- An orphic song indeed,
A song divine of high and passionate thoughts,
To their own music chaunted!
O great Bard!
Ere yet that last strain dying awed the air, The illustrious brow of Scotch Nobility.
With stedfast eye I view'd thee in the choir 1796. Of ever-enduring men. The truly Great
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,
Nor less a sacred roll, than those of old, POEM ON THE GROWTH OF AN INDIVIDUAL MIND.
And to be placed, as they, with gradual fame Friend of the Wise! and Teacher of the Good!
Among the archives of mankind, thy work Into my heart have I received that lay
Makes audible a linked lay of Truth, More than historic, that prophetic lay,
Of Truth profound a sweet continuous lay, Wherein (high theme by the first sung aright) Not learnt, but native, her own natural notes ! Of the foundations and the building up
Ah! as I listen'd with a heart forlorn, Of a Human Spirit thou hast dared to tell
The pulses of my being beat anew : What may be cold, to the understanding mind
And even as life returns upon the drown'd, Revealable; and what within the mind,
Life's joy rekindling roused a throng of painsBy vital breathings secret as the soul
Keen Pangs of Love, awakening as a babe Of vernal growth, oft quickens in the heart
Turbulent, with an outcry in the heart; Thoughts all too deep for words !
And Fears self-will'd, that shunn'd the eye
And Hope that scarce would know itself from Fear;
Theme hard as bigh! Sense of past Youth, and Manhood come in vain, Of smiles spontaneous, and mysterious fears
And Genius given, and knowledge won in vain; (The first-born they of Reason and twin-birth), And all which I had cull'd in wood-walks wild, Of tides obedient to external force,
And all which patient toil had rear'd, and all,
Commune with thee had opend out-but flowers considerable distance of high above us, we plainly hear the quill Strew'd on my corse, and borne upon my bier, feathers; their shafts and webs upon one another croak as the joints in the same coffin, for the self-same grave! or working of a vessel in a tempestuous sea..
Vide Pind. Olymp. iii, I. 156.
That way no more! and ill beseems it me, and Gentry of the Caledonian flant.