My genial spirits fail; 40
And what can these avail,
To lift the smoth'ring 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: 45
I may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
IV
O Edmund! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does Nature live:
Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud! 50
And would we aught behold, of higher worth,
Than that inanimate cold world, allow'd
To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth,
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud 55
Enveloping the earth—
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 60
What this strong music in the soul may be?
What, and wherein it doth exist,
This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist,
This beautiful and beauty-making pow'r?
Joy, virtuous Edmund! joy that ne'er was given, 65
Save to the pure, and in their purest hour,
Joy, Edmund! is the spirit and the pow'r,
Which wedding Nature to us gives in dow'r,
A new Earth and new Heaven,
Undream'd of by the sensual and the proud— 70
Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud—
We, we 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
[1079]Yes, dearest Edmund, yes!
There was a time that, tho' 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: 80
For hope grew round me, like the twining vine,
And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seem'd mine.
But now afflictions bow me down to earth:
Nor care I, that they rob me of my mirth,
But oh! each visitation 85
Suspends what nature gave me at my birth,
My shaping spirit of imagination.
[The Sixth and Seventh Stanzas omitted.]
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
VIII
O wherefore did I let it haunt my mind
This dark distressful dream?
I turn from it, and listen to the wind 90
Which long has rav'd unnotic'd. What a scream
Of agony, by torture, lengthen'd out,
That lute sent forth! O wind, that rav'st without,
Bare crag, or mountain-tairn[1079:1], or blasted tree,
Or pine-grove, whither woodman never clomb, 95
Or lonely house, long held the witches' home,
Methinks were fitter instruments for thee,
Mad Lutanist! who, in this month of show'rs,
Of dark-brown gardens, and of peeping flow'rs,
Mak'st devil's yule, with worse than wintry song, 100
The blossoms, buds, and tim'rous leaves among.
Thou Actor, perfect in all tragic sounds!
Thou mighty Poet, ev'n to frenzy bold!
[1080]
What tell'st thou now about?
'Tis of the rushing of a host in rout, 105
With many groans of men, with smarting wounds—
At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold!
But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence!
And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd,
With groans, and tremulous shudderings—all is over! 110
It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud—
A tale of less affright.
And temper'd with delight,
As Edmund's self had fram'd the tender lay—
'Tis of a little child, 115
Upon a lonesome wild
Not far from home; but she hath lost her way—
And now moans low, in utter grief and fear;
And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear!
IX
'Tis midnight, and small thoughts have I of sleep; 120
Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
Visit him, gentle Sleep, with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May all the stars hang bright above his dwelling,
Silent, as though they watch'd the sleeping Earth! 125
With light heart may he rise,
Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
And sing his lofty song, and teach me to rejoice!
O Edmund, friend of my devoutest choice,
O rais'd from anxious dread and busy care, 130
By the immenseness of the good and fair
Which thou see'st everywhere,
Joy lifts thy spirit, joy attunes thy voice,
[1081]
To thee do all things live from pole to pole,
Their life the eddying of thy living soul! 135
O simple spirit, guided from above,
O lofty Poet, full of life and love,
Brother and friend of my devoutest choice,
Thus may'st thou ever, evermore rejoice!
ΕΣΤΗΣΕ.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
[2] grand] dear Letter to S.
[5] those] that Letter to S. cloud] clouds Letter to S.
[12] by] with Letter to S.
[22] stifled] stifling Letter to S.
Between 24 and 25.
This William, well thou knowest,
Is that sore evil which I dread the most,
And oftnest 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 to S.
[37] a lovely sky-canoe] thy own sweet sky-canoe Letter to S.
[Note. The reference is to the Prologue to 'Peter Bell'.]
[48] Edmund] Wordsworth Letter to S.
[58] potent] powerful Letter to S.
[65] virtuous Edmund] blameless poet Letter to S.
[67] Edmund] William Letter to S.
[74] the echoes] an echo Letter to S.
[76] Edmund] poet Letter to S.
[77] that] when Letter to S.
[78] This] The Letter to S.
[82] fruits] fruit Letter to S.
After 87 six lines 'For not to think', &c., are inserted
after a row of asterisks. The direction as to the omission of the Sixth
and Seventh Stanzas is only found in the M. P.
[93] That lute sent out! O thou wild storm without Letter to
S.
[98] who] that Letter to S.
[106] of] from Letter to S.
[109] Again! but all that noise Letter to S.
[111] And it has other sounds, less fearful and less loud
Letter to S.
[114] Edmund's self] thou thyself Letter to S.
[129-39]
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 to S.
[Note. In the letter these lines follow line 75 of the text of the M.
P.]
L
(Vide ante, p. 403.)
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
Janry, 1807. Cole-orton, near Ashby de la Zouch.
O friend! O Teacher! God's great Gift to me!
Into my heart have I receiv'd that Lay,
More than historic, that prophetic Lay,
Wherein (high theme by Thee first sung aright)
Of the Foundations and the Building-up 5
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 Feard; 10
(The First-born they of Reason, and Twin-birth)
Of Tides obedient to external Force,
And currents self-determin'd, as might seem,
Or by interior Power: of Moments aweful,
Now in thy hidden Life; and now abroad, 15
Mid festive Crowds, thy Brows too garlanded,
A Brother of the Feast: of Fancies fair,
Hyblæan Murmurs of poetic Thought,
Industrious in its Joy, by lilied Streams
Native or outland, Lakes and famous Hills! 20
[1082]Of more than Fancy, of the Hope of Man
Amid the tremor of a Realm aglow—
Where France in all her Towns lay vibrating,
Ev'n as a Bark becalm'd on sultry seas
Beneath the voice from Heaven, the bursting Crash 25
Of Heaven's immediate thunder! when no Cloud
Is visible, or Shadow on the Main!
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 30
Floating! Of Hope afflicted, and struck down,
Thence summon'd homeward—homeward to thy Heart,
Oft from the Watch-tower of Man's absolute Self,
With Light unwaning on her eyes, to look
Far on—herself a Glory to behold, 35
The Angel of the Vision! Then (last strain!)
Of Duty, chosen Laws controlling choice,
Virtue and Love! An Orphic Tale indeed,
A Tale divine of high and passionate Thoughts
To their own music chaunted!
Ah great Bard! 40
Ere yet that last Swell dying aw'd the Air,
With stedfast ken I view'd thee in the Choir
Of ever-enduring Men. The truly Great
Have all one Age, and from one visible space
Shed influence: for they, both power and act, 45
Are permanent, and Time is not with them,
Save as it worketh for them, they in it.
Nor less a sacred Roll, than those of old,
And to be plac'd, as they, with gradual fame
Among the Archives of mankind, thy Work 50
Makes audible a linked Song of Truth,
Of Truth profound a sweet continuous Song
Not learnt, but native, her own natural Notes!
Dear shall it be to every human Heart.
To me how more than dearest! Me, on whom 55
Comfort from Thee and utterance of thy Love
Came with such heights and depths of Harmony
Such sense of Wings uplifting, that the Storm
Scatter'd and whirl'd me, till my Thoughts became
A bodily Tumult! and thy faithful Hopes, 60
[1083]Thy Hopes of me, dear Friend! by me unfelt
Were troublous to me, almost as a Voice
Familiar once and more than musical
To one cast forth, whose hope had seem'd to die,
A Wanderer with a worn-out heart, [sic] 65
Mid Strangers pining with untended Wounds!
O Friend! too well thou know'st, of what sad years
The long suppression had benumb'd my soul,
That even as Life returns upon the Drown'd,
Th' unusual Joy awoke a throng of Pains— 70
Keen Pangs of Love, awakening, as a Babe,
Turbulent, with an outcry in the Heart:
And Fears self-will'd, that shunn'd the eye of Hope,
And Hope, that would not know itself from Fear:
Sense of pass'd Youth, and Manhood come in vain; 75
And Genius given, and knowledge won in vain;
And all, which I had cull'd in Wood-walks wild,
And all, which patient Toil had rear'd, and all,
Commune with Thee had open'd out, but Flowers
Strew'd on my Corse, and borne upon my Bier, 80
In the same Coffin, for the self-same Grave!
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 85
Plucking the Poisons of Self-harm! and ill
Such Intertwine beseems triumphal wreaths
Strew'd before thy Advancing! Thou too, Friend!
O injure not the memory of that Hour
Of thy communion with my nobler mind 90
By pity or grief, already felt too long!
Nor let my words import more blame than needs.
The Tumult rose and ceas'd: for Peace is nigh
Where Wisdom's Voice has found a list'ning Heart.
Amid the howl of more than wintry Storms 95
The Halcyon hears the voice of vernal Hours,
Already on the wing!
Eve following eve,
Dear tranquil Time, when the sweet sense of Home
Becomes most sweet! hours for their own sake hail'd,
And more desir'd, more precious, for thy song! 100
In silence list'ning, like a devout Child,
[1084]
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 105
Into the darkness! now a tranquil Sea
Outspread and bright, yet swelling to the Moon!
And when O Friend! my Comforter! my Guide!
Strong in thyself and powerful to give strength!
Thy long sustained Lay finally clos'd, 110
And thy deep Voice had ceas'd (yet thou thyself
Wert still before mine eyes, and round us both
That happy Vision of beloved Faces!
All, whom I deepliest love, in one room all!),
Scarce conscious and yet conscious of it's Close, 115
I sate, my Being blended in one Thought,
(Thought was it? or aspiration? or Resolve?)
Absorb'd, yet hanging still upon the sound:
And when I rose, I found myself in Prayer!
S. T. Coleridge.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
[37] controlling] ? impelling, ? directing.
M
YOUTH AND AGE
[Vide ante, p. 439.]
MS. I
10 Sept. 1823. Wednesday Morning, 10 o'clock
On the Tenth Day of September,
Eighteen hundred Twenty Three,
Wednesday morn, and I remember
Ten on the Clock the Hour to be
[The Watch and Clock do both agree] 5
An Air that whizzed διὰ ἐγκεφάλου (right across the diameter
of my Brain) exactly like a Hummel Bee, alias Dumbeldore,
the gentleman with Rappee Spenser (sic), with bands of Red, and
Orange Plush Breeches, close by my ear, at once sharp and
burry, right over the summit of Quantock [item of Skiddaw 10
(erased)] at earliest Dawn just between the Nightingale that
I stopt to hear in the Copse at the Foot of Quantock, and the
first Sky-Lark that was a Song-Fountain, dashing up and
sparkling to the Ear's eye, in full column, or ornamented Shaft of
sound in the order of Gothic Extravaganza, out of Sight, over 15
the Cornfields on the Descent of the Mountain on the other
side—out of sight, tho' twice I beheld its mute shoot downward in
the sunshine like a falling star of silver:—
Aria Spontanea
Flowers are lovely, Love is flower-like,
Friendship is a shelt'ring tree— 20
O the Joys, that came down shower-like,
Of Beauty, Truth, and Liberty,
When I was young, ere I was old!
[O Youth that wert so glad, so bold,
What quaint disguise hast thou put on? 25
Would'st make-believe that thou art gone?
O Youth! thy Vesper Bell] has not yet toll'd.
Thou always were a Masker bold—
What quaint Disguise hast now put on?
To make believe that thou art gone! 30
O Youth, so true, so fair, so free,
Thy Vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd,
Thou always, &c.
Ah! was it not enough, that Thou
In Thy eternal Glory should outgo me? 35
Would'st thou not Grief's sad Victory allow
* * * * *
Hope's a Breeze that robs the Blossoms
Fancy feeds, and murmurs the Bee——
* * * * *
MS. II
1
| |
Verse, that Breeze mid blossoms straying
Where Hope clings feeding like a Bee.
Both were mine: Life went a Maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young.
When I was young! ah woeful When!
Ah for the Change twixt now and then!
This House of Life, not built with hands
Where now I sigh, where once I sung. |
| Or |
[This snail-like House, not built with hands,
This Body that does me grievous wrong.] |
| |
O'er Hill and dale and sounding Sands.
How lightly then it flash'd along—
Like those trim Boats, 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. |
| Pencil |
|
Nought car'd this Body for wind or weather,
When youth and I liv'd in't together. |
2
| |
Flowers are lovely, Love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering Tree;
O the joys that came down shower-like
Of Beauty, Truth and Liberty
When I was young 5
When I was young, ah woeful when
Ah for the change twixt now and then
In Heat or Frost we car'd not whether
Night and day we lodged together
woeful when
When I was young—ah words of agony 10
Ah for the change 'twixt now and then
O youth my Home-Mate dear so long, so long:
I thought that thou and I were one
I scarce believe that thou art gone
Thou always wert a Masker bold
I mark that change, in garb and size 15
heave the Breath
Those grisled Locks I well behold
But still thy Heart is in thine eyes
What strange disguise hast now put on
To make believe that thou art gone |
| |
| Or |
[O youth for years so many so sweet 20
It seem'd that Thou and I were one
That still I nurse the fond deceit
And scarce believe that thou art gone] |
[1087]When I was young—ere I was old
Ah! happy ere, ah! woeful When 25
When I was young, ah woeful when
Which says that Youth and I are twain!
O Youth! for years so many and sweet
'Tis known that Thou and I were one
I'll think it but a false conceit 30
Tis but a gloomy
It cannot be,
I'll not believe that thou art gone
Thy Vesper Bell has not yet toll'd
always
And thou wert still a masker bold
What hast
Some strange disguise thou'st now put on
To make believe that thou art gone? 35
I see these Locks in silvery slips,
This dragging gait, this alter'd size
But spring-tide blossoms on thy Lips
And the young Heart is in thy eyes
tears take sunshine from
Life is but Thought so think I will 40
That Youth and I are Housemates still.
Ere I was old
Ere I was old! ah woeful ere
Which tells me youth's no longer here!
O Youth, &c. 45
Dewdrops are the Gems of Morning,
But the Tears of mournful Eve:
Where no Hope is Life's a Warning
me
That only serves to make us grieve,
Now I am old. 50
N
LOVE'S APPARITION AND EVANISHMENT[1087:1]
[Vide ante, p. 488.]
[FIRST DRAFT]
In vain I supplicate the Powers above;
There is no Resurrection for the Love
That, nursed with tenderest care, yet fades away
In the chilled heart by inward self-decay.
[1088]Like a lorn Arab old and blind 5
Some caravan had left behind
That sits beside a ruined Well,
And hangs his wistful head aslant,
Some sound he fain would catch—
Suspended there, as it befell, 10
O'er my own vacancy,
And while I seemed to watch
The sickly calm, as were of heart
A place where Hope lay dead,
The spirit of departed Love 15
Stood close beside my bed.
She bent methought to kiss my lips
As she was wont to do.
Alas! 'twas with a chilling breath
That awoke just enough of life in death 20
To make it die anew.
FOOTNOTES:
O
TWO VERSIONS OF THE EPITAPH[1088:1]
Inscribed in a copy of Grew's Cosmologia Sacra (1701)
[Vide ante, p. 491.]
1
Epitaph
in Hornsey Church yard
Hic Jacet S. T. C.
Stop, Christian Passer-by! Stop, Child of God!
And read with gentle heart. Beneath this sod
There lies a Poet: or what once was He.
[Up] O lift thy soul in prayer for S. T. C.
That He who many a year with toil of breath 5
Found death in life, may here find life in death.
Mercy for praise, to be forgiven for fame
He ask'd, and hoped thro' Christ. Do thou the same.
2
Etesi's [for Estesi's] Epitaph.