Title] To Mr. William Linley MS. 1797: Sonnet XII, To W.
L.——[236:2]! Esq., while he sung &c. An. Anth.: To W.
L. Esq. &c. S. L. 1828, 1829: Lines to W. Linley, Esq. 1893.
[3] L——[236:2]!] Linley! MS. 1893.
[12] Methinks] O God! An. Anth.
FIRE, FAMINE, AND SLAUGHTER[237:1]
A WAR ECLOGUE
The Scene a desolated Tract in La Vendée. Famine is discovered lying
on the ground; to her enter Fire and Slaughter.
Fam. Sisters! sisters! who sent you here?
Slau. [to Fire]. I will whisper it in her ear.
Fire. No! no! no!
Spirits hear what spirits tell:
'Twill make a holiday in Hell. 5
No! no! no!
Myself, I named him once below,
And all the souls, that damnéd be.
Leaped up at once in anarchy,
Clapped their hands and danced for glee. 10
They no longer heeded me;
But laughed to hear Hell's burning rafters
Unwillingly re-echo laughters!
No! no! no!
Spirits hear what spirits tell: 15
'Twill make a holiday in Hell!
Fam. Whisper it, sister! so and so!
In a dark hint, soft and slow.
Slau. Letters four do form his name—
And who sent you?
Both. The same! the same! 20
[238]Slau. He came by stealth, and unlocked my den,
And I have drunk the blood since then
Of thrice three hundred thousand men.
Both. Who bade you do 't?
Slau. The same! the same!
Letters four do form his name. 25
He let me loose, and cried Halloo!
To him alone the praise is due.
Fam. Thanks, sister, thanks! the men have bled,
Their wives and their children faint for bread.
I stood in a swampy field of battle; 30
With bones and skulls I made a rattle,
To frighten the wolf and carrion-crow
And the homeless dog—but they would not go.
So off I flew: for how could I bear
To see them gorge their dainty fare? 35
I heard a groan and a peevish squall,
And through the chink of a cottage-wall—
Can you guess what I saw there?
Both. Whisper it, sister! in our ear.
Fam. A baby beat its dying mother: 40
I had starved the one and was starving the other!
Both. Who bade you do 't?
Fam. The same! the same!
Letters four do form his name.
He let me loose, and cried, Halloo!
To him alone the praise is due. 45
Fire. Sisters! I from Ireland came!
Hedge and corn-fields all on flame,
I triumph'd o'er the setting sun!
And all the while the work was done,
On as I strode with my huge strides, 50
I flung back my head and I held my sides,
It was so rare a piece of fun
To see the sweltered cattle run
[239]With uncouth gallop through the night,
Scared by the red and noisy light! 55
By the light of his own blazing cot
Was many a naked Rebel shot:
The house-stream met the flame and hissed,
While crash! fell in the roof, I wist,
On some of those old bed-rid nurses, 60
That deal in discontent and curses.
Both. Who bade you do't?
Fire. The same! the same!
Letters four do form his name.
He let me loose, and cried Halloo!
To him alone the praise is due. 65
All. He let us loose, and cried Halloo!
How shall we yield him honour due?
Fam. Wisdom comes with lack of food.
I'll gnaw, I'll gnaw the multitude,
Till the cup of rage o'erbrim: 70
They shall seize him and his brood—
Slau. They shall tear him limb from limb!
Fire. O thankless beldames and untrue!
And is this all that you can do
For him, who did so much for you? 75
Ninety months he, by my troth!
Hath richly catered for you both;
[240]And in an hour would you repay
An eight years' work?—Away! away!
I alone am faithful! I 80
Cling to him everlastingly.
1798.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
Title] Scene: A depopulated Tract in La Vendée. Famine is
discovered stretched on the ground; to her enter Slaughter and Fire M.
P., Jan. 8, 1798.
[2] Slaughter. I will name him in your ear. M. P.
[5] a] an all editions to 1834.
[16] a] an all editions to 1834.
[17-18]
Famine. Then sound it not, yet let me know;
Darkly hint it—soft and low!
M. P.
In a dark hint, soft and low.
An. Anth.
[19] Four letters form his name. M. P.
[22-3]
And I have spill'd the blood since then
Of thrice ten hundred thousand men.
M. P.
[22] drunk] drank An. Anth., S. L. 1828, 1829.
[24] Both] Fire and Famine M. P.
[25] Four letters form his name. M. P.
[29] Their wives and children M. P.
[32] and the carrion crow M. P., An. Anth.
[39] Both] Slaughter and Fire M. P.
[42] Both] Slaughter and Fire M. P.
[43] Four letters form his name. M. P.
[49] Halloo! Halloo! the work was done An. Anth.
[50] As on I strode with monstrous strides M. P.: And on as I
strode with my great strides An. Anth.
[51] and held M. P., An. Anth.
[58] flame] fire M. P.: flames An. Anth.
[59] While crash the roof fell in I wish M. P.
[62] Both] Slaughter and Famine M. P.
[63] Four letters form his name. M. P.
[65] How shall I give him honour due? M. P.
75 foll.
For him that did so much for you.
[To Slaughter.
For you he turn'd the dust to mud
With his fellow creatures' blood!
[To Famine.
And hunger scorch'd as many more,
To make your cup of joy run o'er.
[To Both.
Full ninety moons, he by my troth!
Hath richly cater'd for you both!
And in an hour would you repay
An eight years' debt? Away! away!
I alone am faithful! I
Cling to him everlastingly.
Laberius. M. P.
Below 81 1798] 1796 S. L. 1828, 1829, and 1834.
FROST AT MIDNIGHT[240:1]
The Frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry
Came loud—and hark, again! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,
Have left me to that solitude, which suits 5
Abstruser musings: save that at my side
My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.
'Tis calm indeed! so calm that it disturbs
And vexes meditation with its strange
And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood, 10
This populous village! Sea, and hill, and wood,
With all the numberless goings-on of life,
Inaudible as dreams! the thin blue flame
Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not;
Only that film,[240:2] which fluttered on the grate, 15
Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.
Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature
Gives it dim sympathies with me who live,
Making it a companionable form,
Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit 20
[241]By its own moods interprets, every where
Echo or mirror seeking of itself,
And makes a toy of Thought.
But O! how oft,
How oft, at school, with most believing mind,
Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars, 25
To watch that fluttering stranger! and as oft
With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt
Of my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower,
Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rang
From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day, 30
So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me
With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear
Most like articulate sounds of things to come!
So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt,
Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams! 35
And so I brooded all the following morn,
Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eye
Fixed with mock study on my swimming book:
Save if the door half opened, and I snatched
A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up, 40
[242]For still I hoped to see the stranger's face,
Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved,
My play-mate when we both were clothed alike!
Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,
Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm, 45
Fill up the intersperséd vacancies
And momentary pauses of the thought!
My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart
With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,
And think that thou shalt learn far other lore, 50
And in far other scenes! For I was reared
In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim,
And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.
But thou, my babe! shalt wander like a breeze
By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags 55
Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,
Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores
And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear
The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible
Of that eternal language, which thy God 60
Utters, who from eternity doth teach
Himself in all, and all things in himself.
Great universal Teacher! he shall mould
Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, 65
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall 70
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.
February, 1798.[242:1]
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
Between 19-25
With which I can hold commune. Idle thought!
But still the living spirit in our frame,
That loves not to behold a lifeless thing,
Transfuses into all its own delights,
Its own volition, sometimes with deep faith
And sometimes with fantastic playfulness.
Ah me! amus'd by no such curious toys
Of the self-watching subtilizing mind,
How often in my early school-boy days
With most believing superstitious wish.
4o.
With which I can hold commune: haply hence,
That still the living spirit in our frame,
Which loves not to behold a lifeless thing,
Transfuses into all things its own Will,
And its own pleasures; sometimes with deep faith,
And sometimes with a wilful playfulness
That stealing pardon from our common sense
Smiles, as self-scornful, to disarm the scorn
For these wild reliques of our childish Thought,
That flit about, oft go, and oft return
Not uninvited.
Ah there was a time,
When oft amused by no such subtle toys
Of the self-watching mind, a child at school,
With most believing superstitious wish.
P. R.
Between 20-4
To which the living spirit in our frame,
That loves not to behold a lifeless thing,
Transfuses its own pleasures, its own will.
S. L. 1828.
[26] To watch the stranger there! and oft belike 4o, P.
R.
[32] wild] sweet S. L. (for sweet read wild. Errata, S.
L., p. [xii]).
[45] deep] dead 4o, P. R., S. L. (for dead read
deep. Errata, S. L., p. [xii]).
[46] Fill] Fill'd S. L. (for Fill'd read Fill. Errata,
S. L., p. [xii]).
[48] thrills] fills 4o, P. R., S. L. (for fills read
thrills. Errata, S. L., p. [xii]).
[67] redbreast] redbreasts 4o, P. R.
[69] the nigh] all the 4o.
[71] trances] traces S. L. (for traces read trances.
Errata, S. L., p. [xii]).
72-end
Or whether the secret ministery of cold
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet moon,
Like those, my babe! which ere tomorrow's warmth
Have capp'd their sharp keen points with pendulous drops,
Will catch thine eye, and with their novelty
Suspend thy little soul; then make thee shout,
And stretch and flutter from thy mother's arms
As thou wouldst fly for very eagerness.
4o.
I
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause,
Whose pathless march no mortal may controul!
Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll,
Yield homage only to eternal laws!
[244]Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing, 5
Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined,
Save when your own imperious branches swinging,
Have made a solemn music of the wind!
Where, like a man beloved of God,
Through glooms, which never woodman trod, 10
How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,
Inspired, beyond the guess of folly,
By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!
O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high! 15
And O ye Clouds that far above me soared!
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!
Yea, every thing that is and will be free!
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,
With what deep worship I have still adored 20
The spirit of divinest Liberty.
When France in wrath her giant-limbs upreared,
And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea,
Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free,
Bear witness for me, how I hoped and feared! 25
With what a joy my lofty gratulation
Unawed I sang, amid a slavish band:
And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,
Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand,
The Monarchs marched in evil day, 30
And Britain joined the dire array;
Though dear her shores and circling ocean,
Though many friendships, many youthful loves
Had swoln the patriot emotion
And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves; 35
Yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat
To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance,
And shame too long delayed and vain retreat!
For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim
I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame; 40
But blessed the paeans of delivered France,
And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.
III
'And what,' I said, 'though Blasphemy's loud scream
With that sweet music of deliverance strove!
Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove 45
A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream!
Ye storms, that round the dawning East assembled,
The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!'
And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,
The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright; 50
When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory
Concealed with clustering wreaths of glory;
[246]When, insupportably advancing,
Her arm made mockery of the warrior's ramp;
While timid looks of fury glancing, 55
Domestic treason, crushed beneath her fatal stamp,
Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore;
Then I reproached my fears that would not flee;
'And soon,' I said, 'shall Wisdom teach her lore
In the low huts of them that toil and groan! 60
And, conquering by her happiness alone,
Shall France compel the nations to be free,
Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth their own.'
IV
Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!
I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament, 65
From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sent—
I hear thy groans upon her blood-stained streams!
Heroes, that for your peaceful country perished,
And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows
With bleeding wounds; forgive me, that I cherished 70
One thought that ever blessed your cruel foes!
To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,
Where Peace her jealous home had built;
A patriot-race to disinherit
Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear; 75
And with inexpiable spirit
To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer—
O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind,
And patriot only in pernicious toils!
Are these thy boasts, Champion of human kind? 80
To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway,
Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey;
To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils
From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?
The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, 85
Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game
They burst their manacles and wear the name
Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain!
O Liberty! with profitless endeavour
Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour; 90
But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever
Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power.
Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee,
(Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee)
Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions, 95
And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves,
Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions,
The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves!
And there I felt thee!—on that sea-cliff's verge,
Whose pines, scarce travelled by the breeze above, 100
Had made one murmur with the distant surge!
Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare,
And shot my being through earth, sea, and air,
Possessing all things with intensest love,
O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there. 105
February, 1798.
FOOTNOTES: