Samuel Taylor Coleridge

“ 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! ”

“ Like star-beam on the slow sequester’d tide 120
Lone-glittering, through the high tree branching wide.
And here, in Inspiration’s eager hour,
When most the big soul feels the mastering power,
These wilds, these caverns roaming o’er,
Round which the screaming sea-gulls soar,
With wild unequal 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 below.
Poor Chatterton! he sorrows for thy fate 130
Who would have prais’d and lov’d thee, ere too late.
Poor Chatterton! farewell! ”

“ 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 ”