Samuel Taylor Coleridge

“ Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed, 5
Be of good cheer, meek soul! I would have said:
I see a hope spring from that humble fear.
All are not strong alike through storms to steer
Right onward. What? though dread of threatened death
And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath 10
Inconstant to the truth within thy heart!
That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice didst start,
Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife,
Or not so vital as to claim thy life:
And myriads had reached Heaven, who never knew 15
Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true! ”

“ 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. ”

“ Soar thou aloft, O my soul! and bear up my song on thy pinions.
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 brightness,
Thrilled with thy beauty and love in the wooded slope of the mountain,
Here, great mother, I lie, thy child, with his head on thy bosom!
Playful the spirits of noon, that rushing soft through thy tresses,
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. ”

“ It cannot be that Thou art gone!
Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:—
And thou wert aye a masker bold! 30
What strange disguise hast now put on,
To make believe, that thou art gone?
I 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 warning
That only serves to make us grieve,
When we are old ”

“ MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON [13:1] [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!
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! ”

“ Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause
On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc,
[377] 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!
O dread and silent Mount! ”

“ 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 phantom, 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,
Struggles with feebler and yet feebler flight. ”

“ LITERAL TRANSLATION.
Leaving the gates of Darkness, O Death! hasten thou to a Race yoked to Misery! Thou wilt not be received with lacerations of Cheeks, nor with funereal ululation, but with circling Dances and the joy of Songs. Thou art terrible indeed, yet thou dwellest with Liberty, stern Genius! Borne on thy dark pinions over the swelling of Ocean they return to their native country. There by the side of fountains beneath Citron groves, the Lovers tell to their Beloved, what horrors, being Men, they had endured from Men. ”

“ 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!
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. ”

“ 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! ”

“ Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story,—
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?
V
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
VI
'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 agéd father tears his child! ”

“ 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!
O! 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 ”

“ 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 ”

“ Stay awhile,
Poor youth, who scarcely dar'st lift up thine eyes! 95
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; 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 branch? He turns, and she is gone!
Homeward she steals through many a woodland maze 105
Which he shall seek in vain. Ill-fated youth! ”

“ In lonesome tent, I listen for thy voice.
[397] Belovéd! 'tis not thine; thou art not there!
Then melts the bubble into idle air,
And wishing without hope I restlessly despair.
5
The mother with anticipated glee 65
Smiles o'er the child, that, standing by her chair
And flatt'ning its round cheek upon 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,
6
Then is she tenfold gladder than before! ”

“ Meek Daughter in the family of Christ!
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; [102:1] 60
Who with his saving mercies healéd 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! ”

“ 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 would be, who could be an Atheist in this valley of wonders! ”

“ One age go with us, and one hour of death
Shall close our eyes, and one grave make us happy.
Kath. A precious boon, that would go far to reconcile one to old age—this love—if true! But is there any such true love?
Fri. I hope so.
Kath. But do you believe it?
Eliz. (eagerly) . I am sure he does.
Fri. From a man turned of fifty, Katharine, I imagine, expects a less confident answer.
Kath. A more sincere one, perhaps.
Fri. Even though he should have obtained the nick-name of Improvisatore, by perpetrating charades and extempore verses at Christmas times? ”

“ Title] Sonnet on Quitting Christ's Hospital MS. O. Absence, A Farewell Ode 1796, 1803.
HAPPINESS [30:1]
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. ”

“ 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
[96] Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sigh'd—
'O! how shall I behold my Love at eventide!' 45
1795. ”

“ 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,
[180] Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! 35
Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves!
And kindle, thou blue Ocean! ”

“ Treacherous Fiend! 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! ”

“ 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! ”

“ 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. ”

“ The friends of Freedom in this country are idle. Some are timid; some are selfish; and many the torpedo torch of hopelessness has numbed into inactivity. We would fain hope that (if the above account be accurate—it is only the French account) this dreadful instance of infatuation in our Ministry will rouse them to one effort more; and that at one and the same time in our different great towns the people will be called on to think solemnly, and declare their thoughts fearlessly by every method which the remnant of the Constitution allows. ”

“ And are you (said Alia to Constantius, on whose head sickness and sorrow had antedated Winter, ere yet the time of Vintage had passed) , Are you the happier for your Philosophy? And the smile of Constantius was as the light from a purple cluster of the vine, gleaming through snowflakes, as he replied, The Boons of Philosophy are of higher worth, than what you, O Alia, mean by Happiness. ”