After 61

When shall sceptred Slaughter cease?
 A while he crouch'd, O Victor France!
 Beneath the lightning of thy lance;
 With treacherous dalliance courting Peace—[163:A]
 But soon upstarting from his coward trance
 The boastful bloody Son of Pride betray'd
 His ancient hatred of the dove-eyed Maid.
 A cloud, O Freedom! cross'd thy orb of Light,
 And sure he deem'd that orb was set in night:
 For still does Madness roam on Guilt's bleak dizzy height!

C. I.

When shall sceptred, &c.
       *       *       *       *       *
With treacherous dalliance wooing Peace.
 But soon up-springing from his dastard trance
 The boastful bloody Son of Pride betray'd
 His hatred of the blest and blessing Maid.
 One cloud, O Freedom! cross'd thy orb of Light,
 And sure he deem'd that orb was quench'd in night:
 For still, &c.

4o.

[163:A] To juggle this easily-juggled people into better humour with the supplies (and themselves, perhaps, affrighted by the successes of the French) our Ministry sent an Ambassador to Paris to sue for Peace. The supplies are granted: and in the meantime the Archduke Charles turns the scale of victory on the Rhine, and Buonaparte is checked before Mantua. Straightways our courtly messenger is commanded to uncurl his lips, and propose to the lofty Republic to restore all its conquests, and to suffer England to retain all hers (at least all her important ones), as the only terms of Peace, and the ultimatum of the negotiation!

Θρασύνει γὰρ αἰσχρόμητις
 Τάλαινα ΠΑΡΑΚΟΠΑ πρωτοπήμων—Aeschyl., Ag. 222-4.

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. 4o.

IV] Antistrophe I. C. I., 4o, 1797, 1803.

[62]

no earthly] an awful C. I.

[65]

thy . . . gore] there garmented with gore C. I., 4o, 1797.

[65-7]
Aye Memory sits: thy vest profan'd with gore.
 Thou with an unimaginable groan
 Gav'st reck'ning of thy Hours!

1803.

[68]

ethereal] choired C. I.

[69]

Whose purple locks with snow-white glories shone C. I., 4o: Whose wreathed locks with snow-white glories shone 1797, 1803.

[70]

wild] strange C. I.

V] Antistrophe II. C. I., 4o, 1797, 1803.

[74-9]
On every Harp on every Tongue
 While the mute Enchantment hung:
 Like Midnight from a thunder-cloud
 Spake the sudden Spirit loud.

C. I., 4o, 1797, 1803.

The sudden Spirit cried aloud.

C. I.

Like Thunder from a Midnight Cloud
 Spake the sudden Spirit loud

1803.

[83]

Arm] God C. I.

Between 83 and 84

By Belgium's corse-impeded flood,[165:A]
 By Vendee steaming [streaming C. I.] Brother's blood.

C. I., 4o, 1797, 1803.

[165:A] The Rhine. C. I., 1797, 1803.

[85]

And mask'd Hate C. I.

[87]

By Hunger's bosom to the bleak winds bar'd C. I.

[89]

Strange] Most C. I.

[90]

By] And C. I.

[91]

Synod] Senate 1797, 1803.

[94-102]
For ever shall the bloody island scowl?
 For ever shall her vast and iron bow
 Shoot Famine's evil arrows o'er the world,[165:B]
 Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below;
 Rise, God of Mercy, rise! why sleep thy bolts unhurl'd?

C. I.

For ever shall the bloody Island scowl?
 For aye, unbroken shall her cruel Bow
 Shoot Famine's arrows o'er thy ravaged World?
 Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below—
 Rise, God of Nature, rise, why sleep thy Bolts unhurl'd?

4o, 1797, 1803.

Rise God of Nature, rise! ah! why those bolts unhurl'd?

1797, 1803.

[165:B] 'In Europe the smoking villages of Flanders and the putrified fields of La Vendée—from Africa the unnumbered victims of a detestable Slave-Trade. In Asia the desolated plains of Indostan, and the millions whom a rice-contracting Governor caused to perish. In America the recent enormities of the Scalp-merchants. The four quarters of the globe groan beneath the intolerable iniquity of the nation.' See 'Addresses to the People', p. 46. C. I.

[102]

Here the Ode ends C. I.

VI] Epode II. 4o, 1797, 1803.

[103]

Vision] Phantoms 4o, 1797, 1803.

[106]

phantom] vision 4o, 1797, 1803.

[107]

sweat-drops] sweat-damps 4o, 1797, 1803.

[113]

stranger] uglier 4o.

[119]

starting] startful 4o, 1797, 1803.

[121]

O doom'd to fall, enslav'd and vile 4o, 1797, 1803.

[133]

proud Invader's] sworded Foeman's 4o, 1797: sworded Warrior's 1803.

[135-9]
Disclaim'd of Heaven! mad Avarice at thy side

4o, 1797.

At coward distance, yet with kindling pride—
 Safe 'mid thy herds and cornfields thou hast stood,
 And join'd the yell of Famine and of Blood.
 All nations curse thee: and with eager wond'ring

4o, 1797.

[135]

O abandon'd 1803.

[137-8]
Mid thy Corn-fields and Herds thou in plenty hast stood
 And join'd the loud yellings of Famine and Blood.

1803.

[139]

They] and 1797, 1803, S. L. 1817.

[142]

fires] flames 4o.

[144]
Stretch'd on the marge of some fire-flashing fount
 In the black Chamber of a sulphur'd mount.

4o.

[144]

By livid fount, or roar of blazing stream 1797.

[146]

Visions of thy predestin'd ruins rise 1803.

[151]

famish'd] famin'd 4o.

[156]

Soliciting my scant and blameless soil 4o.

[159-60]
In the long sabbath of high self-content.
 Cleans'd from the fleshly passions that bedim

4o.

In the deep sabbath of blest self-content
 Cleans'd from the fears and anguish that bedim

1797.

In the blest sabbath of high self-content
 Cleans'd from bedimming Fear, and Anguish weak and blind.

1803.

[161]

om. 1803.

THE RAVEN[169:1]

A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY TO HIS
LITTLE BROTHERS AND SISTERS

Underneath an old oak tree
 There was of swine a huge company,
 That grunted as they crunched the mast:
 For that was ripe, and fell full fast.
 Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high: 5
 One acorn they left, and no more might you spy.
 Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly:
 He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy!
 Blacker was he than blackest jet,
 Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet. 10
 [170]He picked up the acorn and buried it straight
 By the side of a river both deep and great.
 Where then did the Raven go?
 He went high and low,
 Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go. 15
 Many Autumns, many Springs
 Travelled[170:1] he with wandering wings:
 Many Summers, many Winters—
 I can't tell half his adventures.
At length he came back, and with him a She, 20
 And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree.
 They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
 And young ones they had, and were happy enow.
 But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise,
 His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes. 25
 He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke,
 But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,
 At length he brought down the poor Raven's own oak.
 His young ones were killed; for they could not depart,
 And their mother did die of a broken heart. 30
The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever;
 And they floated it down on the course of the river.
 They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip,
 And with this tree and others they made a good ship.
 The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land 35
 Such a storm there did rise as no ship could withstand.
 It bulged on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast:
 Round and round flew the raven, and cawed to the blast.
 [171]He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls—
 See! see! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls! 40
 Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet,
 And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet,
 And he thank'd him again and again for this treat:
 They had taken his all, and Revenge it was sweet!

1797.

FOOTNOTES:

[169:1] First published in the Morning Post, March 10, 1798 (with an introductory letter, vide infra): included (with the letter, and except line 15 the same text) in the Annual Anthology, 1800, in Sibylline Leaves, 1817 (pp. vi-viii), 1828, 1829, and 1834.

[To the editor of the Morning Post.]

'Sir,—I am not absolutely certain that the following Poem was written by Edmund Spenser, and found by an Angler buried in a fishing-box:—

'Under the foot of Mole, that mountain hoar,
 Mid the green alders, by the Mulla's shore.'

But a learned Antiquarian of my acquaintance has given it as his opinion that it resembles Spenser's minor Poems as nearly as Vortigern and Rowena the Tragedies of William Shakespeare.—The Poem must be read in recitative, in the same manner as the Aegloga Secunda of the Shepherd's Calendar.

Cuddy.'

M. P., An. Anth.

[170:1] Seventeen or eighteen years ago an artist of some celebrity was so pleased with this doggerel that he amused himself with the thought of making a Child's Picture Book of it; but he could not hit on a picture for these four lines. I suggested a Round-about with four seats, and the four seasons, as Children, with Time for the shew-man. Footnote, Sibylline Leaves, 1817.

LINENOTES:

Title] 'A Christmas Tale,' &c., was first prefixed in S. L. 1817. The letter introduced the poem in the Morning Post. In the Annual Anthology the 'Letter' is headed 'The Raven'. Lamb in a letter to Coleridge, dated Feb. 5, 1797, alludes to this poem as 'Your Dream'.

[1-8]
Under the arms of a goodly oak-tree
 There was of Swine a large company.
 They were making a rude repast,
 Grunting as they crunch'd the mast.
 Then they trotted away: for the wind blew high— 5
 One acorn they left, ne more mote you spy,
 Next came a Raven, who lik'd not such folly:
 He belong'd, I believe, to the witch Melancholy!

M. P., An. Anth., and (with variants given below) MS. S. T. C.

[1]

Beneath a goodly old oak tree MS. S. T. C.: an old] a huge S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[6]

ne more] and no more MS. S. T. C.

[7]

Next] But soon MS. S. T. C.

[8]

belonged it was said S. L. 1817.

[10]

in the rain; his feathers were wet M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[15]

O'er hill, o'er dale M. P.

[17]

with] on MS. S. T. C.

[20]

came back] return'd M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[21]

to a tall] a large M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[22]

topmost] uppermost MS. S. T. C.

[23]

happy] jolly M. P., An. Anth.

[26]

and he nothing spoke M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[28]

At length] Wel-a-day MS. S. T. C.: At last M. P., An. Anth.

[30]

And his wife she did die M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[31]

The branches from off it M. P., An. Anth.: The branches from off this the MS. S. T. C.

[32]

And floated MS. S. T. C.

[33]

They saw'd it to planks, and its rind M. P., An. Anth.: They saw'd it to planks and its bark MS. S. T. C.

[34]

they built up a ship M. P., An. Anth.

[36]

Such . . . ship] A tempest arose which no ship M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[38]

The auld raven flew round and round M. P., An. Anth.: The old raven flew round and round MS. S. T. C., S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[39]

He heard the sea-shriek of their perishing souls M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[40-4]
They be sunk! O'er the topmast the mad water rolls
 The Raven was glad that such fate they did meet.
 They had taken his all and Revenge was sweet.

M. P., An. Anth.

[40]

See she sinks MS. S. T. C.

[41]

Very glad was the Raven, this fate they did meet MS. S. T. C.

[42-3]

om. MS. S. T. C.

[44]

Revenge was sweet. An. Anth., MS. S. T. C., S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.

After l. 44, two lines were added in Sibylline Leaves, 1817:—

We must not think so; but forget and forgive,
 And what Heaven gives life to, we'll still let it live.[171:A]

[171:A] Added thro' cowardly fear of the Goody! What a Hollow, where the Heart of Faith ought to be, does it not betray? this alarm concerning Christian morality, that will not permit even a Raven to be a Raven, nor a Fox a Fox, but demands conventicular justice to be inflicted on their unchristian conduct, or at least an antidote to be annexed. MS. Note by S. T. C.

TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN
AT THE THEATRE[171:1]

Maiden, that with sullen brow
 Sitt'st behind those virgins gay,
 Like a scorch'd and mildew'd bough,
 Leafless 'mid the blooms of May!
Him who lur'd thee and forsook, 5
 Oft I watch'd with angry gaze,
 Fearful saw his pleading look,
 Anxious heard his fervid phrase.
 [172]
Soft the glances of the Youth,
 Soft his speech, and soft his sigh; 10
 But no sound like simple Truth,
 But no true love in his eye.
Loathing thy polluted lot,
 Hie thee, Maiden, hie thee hence!
 Seek thy weeping Mother's cot, 15
 With a wiser innocence.
Thou hast known deceit and folly,
 Thou hast felt that Vice is woe:
 With a musing melancholy
 Inly arm'd, go, Maiden! go. 20
Mother sage of Self-dominion,
 Firm thy steps, O Melancholy!
 The strongest plume in Wisdom's pinion
 Is the memory of past folly.
Mute the sky-lark and forlorn, 25
 While she moults the firstling plumes,
 That had skimm'd the tender corn,
 Or the beanfield's odorous blooms.
Soon with renovated wing
 Shall she dare a loftier flight, 30
 Upward to the Day-Star spring,
 And embathe in heavenly light.

1797.

FOOTNOTES:

[171:1] First published in the Morning Post, December 7, 1797: included in the Annual Anthology, 1800, in Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834. For MS. sent to Cottle, see E. R. 1834, i. 213, 214.

LINENOTES:

Title] To an Unfortunate Woman in the Back Seats of the Boxes at the Theatre M. P.: To an Unfortunate Young Woman whom I had known in the days of her Innocence MS. sent to Cottle, E. R. i. 213: To an Unfortunate Woman whom the Author knew in the days of her Innocence. Composed at the Theatre An. Anth. 1800.

[1]

Maiden] Sufferer An. Anth.

In place of 5-12

Inly gnawing, thy distresses
 Mock those starts of wanton glee;
 And thy inmost soul confesses
 Chaste Affection's [affliction's An. Anth.] majesty.

MS. Cottle, An. Anth.

[14]

Maiden] Sufferer An. Anth.

[22]

Firm are thy steps M. P.

[25]

sky-lark] Lavrac MS. Cottle, An. Anth.

[26]

the] those MS. Cottle, M. P., An. Anth.

[27]

Which late had M. P.

[31]

Upwards to the day star sing MS. Cottle, An. Anth.

Stanzas ii, iii, v, vi are not in MS. Cottle nor in the Annual Anthology.

TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN[172:1]

WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD KNOWN IN THE DAYS
OF HER INNOCENCE

Myrtle-leaf that, ill besped,
 Pinest in the gladsome ray,
 Soil'd beneath the common tread
 Far from thy protecting spray!
 [173]
When the Partridge o'er the sheaf 5
 Whirr'd along the yellow vale,
 Sad I saw thee, heedless leaf!
 Love the dalliance of the gale.
Lightly didst thou, foolish thing!
 Heave and flutter to his sighs, 10
 While the flatterer, on his wing,
 Woo'd and whisper'd thee to rise.
Gaily from thy mother-stalk
 Wert thou danc'd and wafted high—
 Soon on this unshelter'd walk 15
 Flung to fade, to rot and die.

1797.

FOOTNOTES: