O 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[86:2]
 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.

January 10, 1795.

FOOTNOTES:

[86:1] First published in the Morning 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.

[86:2] Aurora Borealis.

X[87:1]

TO ROBERT SOUTHEY

OF BALIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD, AUTHOR OF THE 'RETROSPECT',
AND OTHER POEMS

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 O! more thrill'd, 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.

FOOTNOTES:

[87:1] 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.

XI[87:2]

TO RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, ESQ.

It was some Spirit, Sheridan! that breath'd
 O'er thy young mind such wildly-various power!
 [88]My soul hath mark'd thee in her shaping hour,
 Thy temples with Hymettian[88:1] flow'rets wreath'd:
And sweet thy voice, as when o'er Laura's bier 5
 Sad Music trembled thro' Vauclusa's glade;
 Sweet, as at dawn the love-lorn Serenade
 That wafts soft dreams to Slumber's listening ear.
Now patriot Rage and Indignation high
 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.

January 29, 1795.

FOOTNOTES:

[87:2] 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, i. 118), and a second in the Estlin copy-book. In 1796 a note to line 4 was included in Notes, p. 179, and in 1797 and 1803 affixed as a footnote, p. 95:—'Hymettian Flowrets. Hymettus, a mountain near Athens, celebrated 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 had 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.'

[88:1] Hymettus, a mountain of Attica famous for honey. M. C.

LINENOTES:

Title] To Sheridan MS. E: Effusion vi. 1796: Sonnet xi. 1803: 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! that breath'd
 His various &c.

M. C.

[1-3]
Some winged Genius, Sheridan! imbreath'd
 O'er thy young Soul a wildly-various power!
 My Fancy meets thee in her shaping hour

MS. E.

[8]

wafts] bears MS. Letter, 1794, M. C., MS. E.

[9]

Rage] Zeal MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E, M. C.

[10]

thine] his Letter, 1794, M. C.

[12]
While inly writhes from the Soul-probing glance

M. C.

[12-14]
Th' 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.

TO LORD STANHOPE[89:1]

ON READING HIS LATE PROTEST IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS

['MORNING CHRONICLE,' JAN. 31, 1795]

Stanhope! I hail, with ardent Hymn, 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!
 O 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.

1795.

FOOTNOTES:

[89:1] 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' (l. 6) see Sonnet to Burke, line 9 (ante, p. 80).

TO EARL STANHOPE[89:2]

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
[90]'Gainst Her[90:1] who from the Almighty's bosom leapt
 With whirlwind arm, fierce Minister of Love! 10
 Wherefore, ere Virtue o'er thy tomb hath wept,
 Angels shall lead thee to the Throne above:
And thou from forth its clouds shalt hear the voice,
 Champion of Freedom and her God! rejoice!

1795.

FOOTNOTES:

[89:2] First published in 1796: included in 1803, in Cottle's Early Rec. i. 203, and in Rem. 1848, p. 111. First collected in 1852.

[90:1] Gallic Liberty.

LINENOTES:

Title] Effusion x. 1796 (To Earl Stanhope Contents): Sonnet xvi. 1803: Sonnet ix. 1852.

LINES[90:2]

TO A FRIEND IN ANSWER TO A MELANCHOLY LETTER

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, lull'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.

FOOTNOTES:

[90:2] First published in 1796: included in 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.

LINENOTES:

Title] Epistle II. To a Friend, &c. 1796: To a Friend, &c. 1803.

TO AN INFANT[91:1]

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, 5
 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 Ill offend thy sight,
 And rouse the stormy sense of shrill Affright! 10
 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! 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
O thou that rearest with celestial aim
 The future Seraph in my mortal frame,
 [92]Thrice holy Faith! whatever thorns I meet
 As on I totter with unpractis'd feet,
 Still let me stretch my arms and cling to thee, 25
 Meek nurse of souls through their long Infancy!

1795.

FOOTNOTES:

[91:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797 (Supplement), 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. A MS. version numbering 16 lines is included in the Estlin volume.

LINENOTES:

Title] Effusion xxxiv. To an Infant 1796.

[1-10]
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 Ill thy aching sight
 Scare with the keen Emotions of Affright!

MS. E.

[8-11]
Or rouse thy screams, or wake thy young desire:
 Yet art thou wise, for mid thy brief alarms

1797.

[9-10]

om. 1797.

[14]

Whose kindly Heavings lull thy cares to Rest MS. E.

[19]

tetchy] fretful 1797.

TO THE REV. W. J. HORT[92:1]

WHILE TEACHING A YOUNG LADY SOME SONG-TUNES
ON HIS FLUTE

I
Hush! 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!
II
O 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.
III
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, 20
 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.

1795.

FOOTNOTES:

[92:1] First published in 1796, and again in 1863.

LINENOTES:

Title] To the Rev. W. J. H. while Teaching, &c. 1796, 1863.

[24]

her] his 1863.

PITY[93:1]

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, 10
 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!

? 1795.

FOOTNOTES:

[93:1] First published in 1796: included in Selection of Sonnets, Poems 1796, in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.

LINENOTES:

Title] Effusion xvi. 1796 (Contents—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 met 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[93:2]

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 thy 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 10
 Thou warblest sad thy pity-pleading strains.
 O! I have listened, 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
 [94]Oft will I tell thee, Minstrel of the 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 harp, 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!

1795.

FOOTNOTES:

[93:2] First published in 1796: included in 1803 and in Lit. Rem., i. 38. First collected in 1844.

LINENOTES:

Title] Effusion xxiii. To the, &c. 1796.

[12]

O have I 1796.

LINES[94:1]

COMPOSED WHILE CLIMBING THE LEFT ASCENT OF BROCKLEY COOMB,
SOMERSETSHIRE, MAY 1795

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
 I 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: 15
 Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here!

FOOTNOTES:

[94:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797 (Supplement), 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834.

LINENOTES:

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. 1803.

[7]

deep] forc'd 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829.

LINES IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER[94:2]

O Peace, that on a lilied bank dost love
 To rest thine head beneath an Olive-Tree,
 I would that from the pinions of thy Dove
 [95]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 10
 With thoughts of my dissever'd Fair engross'd,
 Chill Fancy droop'd wreathing herself with willow,
 As though my breast entomb'd a pining ghost.
 'From some blest couch, young Rapture's bridal boast,
 Rejected Slumber! hither wing 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
 [96]Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sigh'd—
 'O! how shall I behold my Love at eventide!' 45

1795.

FOOTNOTES: