[28]

Hard by] Upon M. P.: Fast by 1828, 1829.

[29-33]
He saw a pig right rapidly
Adown the river float,
The pig swam well, but every stroke
Was cutting his own throat.

M. P.

[29]

did glide] there plied 1828, 1829.

Between 33-4

Old Nicholas grinn'd and swish'd his tail
For joy and admiration;
And he thought of his daughter, Victory,
And his darling babe, Taxation.

M. P.

[34-5]
As he went through —— —— fields he look'd
At a

M. P.

[37]

his] the M. P. in] of M. P.

[39]

Fetter] Hand-cuff M. P.: Unfetter 1834.

[40-1]
'Nimbly', quoth he, 'the fingers move
If a man is but us'd to his trade.'

M. P.

[42]

unfetter] unfettering M. P.

[44]

And he laugh'd for he thought of the long debates M. P.

[46]

saw] met M. P.

[47]

Just by the Methodist meeting. M. P.

[48]

holds] held M. P. key] flag[323:A] M. P.

[323:A] The allusion is to Archbishop Randolph consecrating the Duke of York's banners. See S. T. Coleridge's Notizbuch aus den Jahren 1795-8 . . . von A. Brandl, 1896, p. 354 (p. 25 a, l. 18 of Gutch Memorandum Book, B. M. Add. MSS. 27,901).

[49]

And the Devil nods a greeting. M. P.

[50-2]
She tip'd him the wink, then frown'd and cri'd
'Avaunt! my name's ——
And turn'd to Mr. W——

M. P.

[66]

General ——] General ——'s M. P.

[68]

way did take M. P.

[70]

general] General M. P.


LINES COMPOSED IN A CONCERT-ROOM[324:1]

Nor cold, nor stern, my soul! yet I detest
These scented Rooms, where, to a gaudy throng,
Heaves the proud Harlot her distended breast,
In intricacies of laborious song.
These feel not Music's genuine power, nor deign 5
To melt at Nature's passion-warbled plaint;
But when the long-breathed singer's uptrilled strain
Bursts in a squall—they gape for wonderment.
Hark! the deep buzz of Vanity and Hate!
Scornful, yet envious, with self-torturing sneer 10
My lady eyes some maid of humbler state,
While the pert Captain, or the primmer Priest,
Prattles accordant scandal in her ear.
O give me, from this heartless scene released,
To hear our old Musician, blind and grey, 15
(Whom stretching from my nurse's arms I kissed,)
His Scottish tunes and warlike marches play,
By moonshine, on the balmy summer-night,
The while I dance amid the tedded hay
With merry maids, whose ringlets toss in light. 20
[325]Or lies the purple evening on the bay
Of the calm glossy lake, O let me hide
Unheard, unseen, behind the alder-trees,
For round their roots the fisher's boat is tied,
On whose trim seat doth Edmund stretch at ease, 25
And while the lazy boat sways to and fro,
Breathes in his flute sad airs, so wild and slow,
That his own cheek is wet with quiet tears.
But O, dear Anne! when midnight wind careers,
And the gust pelting on the out-house shed 30
Makes the cock shrilly in the rainstorm crow,
To hear thee sing some ballad full of woe,
Ballad of ship-wreck'd sailor floating dead,
Whom his own true-love buried in the sands!
Thee, gentle woman, for thy voice remeasures 35
Whatever tones and melancholy pleasures
The things of Nature utter; birds or trees,
Or moan of ocean-gale in weedy caves,
Or where the stiff grass mid the heath-plant waves,
Murmur and music thin of sudden breeze. 40

1799.


FOOTNOTES:

[324:1] First published in the Morning Post, September 24, 1799: included in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. There is no evidence as to the date of composition. In a letter to Coleridge, dated July 5, 1796, Lamb writes 'Have a care, good Master Poet, of the Statute de Contumeliâ. What do you mean by calling Madame Mara harlots and naughty things? The goodness of the verse would not save you in a Court of Justice'—but it is by no means certain that Lamb is referring to the Lines Composed in a Concert-Room, or that there is any allusion in line 3 to Madame Mara. If, as J. D. Campbell suggested, the poem as it appeared in the Morning Post is a recast of some earlier verses, it is possible that the scene is Ottery, and that 'Edmund' is the 'Friend who died dead of' a 'Frenzy Fever' (vide ante, p. 76). In this case a probable date would be the summer of 1793. But the poem as a whole suggests a later date. Coleridge and Southey spent some weeks at Exeter in September 1799. They visited Ottery St. Mary, and walked through Newton Abbot to Ashburton and Dartmouth. It is possible that the 'Concert-Room,' the 'pert Captain,' and 'primmer Priest' are reminiscences of Exeter, the 'heath-plant,' and the 'ocean caves' of Dartmoor and Torbay. If so, the 'shame and absolute rout' (l. 49 of variant, p. 325) would refer to the victory of Suwaroff over Joubert at Novi, which took place August 15, 1799. See Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 307.

LINENOTES:

[14]

heartless] loathsome M. P.

[24]

Around whose roots M. P., S. L.

[40]

thin] then M. P.

After line 40

Dear Maid! whose form in solitude I seek,
Such songs in such a mood to hear thee sing,
It were a deep delight!—But thou shalt fling
Thy white arm round my neck, and kiss my cheek,
And love the brightness of my gladder eye 45
The while I tell thee what a holier joy
It were in proud and stately step to go,
With trump and timbrel clang, and popular shout,
To celebrate the shame and absolute rout
Unhealable of Freedom's latest foe, 50
Whose tower'd might shall to its centre nod.

M. P.

[The words in lines 57, 58 were left as blanks in the Morning Post, from what cause or with what object must remain a matter of doubt.]


WESTPHALIAN SONG[326:1]

[The following is an almost literal translation of a very old and very favourite song among the Westphalian Boors. The turn at the end is the same with one of Mr. Dibdin's excellent songs, and the air to which it is sung by the Boors is remarkably sweet and lively.]

When thou to my true-love com'st
Greet her from me kindly;
When she asks thee how I fare?
Say, folks in Heaven fare finely.
When she asks, 'What! Is he sick?' 5
Say, dead!—and when for sorrow
She begins to sob and cry,
Say, I come to-morrow.

? 1799.


FOOTNOTES:

[326:1] First published in the Morning Post, Sept. 27, 1802: reprinted in Essays on His Own Times, 1850, iii. 992. First collected in P. W., 1877-80, ii. 170.


HEXAMETERS[326:2]

PARAPHRASE OF PSALM XLVI

Gōd ĭs oŭr Strēngth ănd oŭr Rēfŭge: thērefŏre wīll nŏt trēmblĕ,
Thō' thĕ Eārth rĕmōvĕd ănd thō' thĕ pĕrpētŭăl Moūntaīns
Sink in the Swell of the Ocean! God is our Strength and our Refuge.
There is a River the Flowing whereof shall gladden the City,
Hallelujah! the City of God! Jehova shall help her. 5
Thē Idōlătĕrs rāgĕd, the kingdoms were moving in fury;
But he uttered his Voice: Earth melted away from beneath them.
Halleluja! th' Eternal is with us, Almighty Jehova!
Fearful the works of the Lord, yea fearful his Desolations;
But He maketh the Battle to cease, he burneth the Spear and the Chariot. 10
Halleluja! th' Eternal is with us, the God of our Fathers!

1799.


FOOTNOTES:

[326:2] Now published for the first time. The lines were sent in a letter to George Coleridge dated September 29, 1799. They were prefaced as follows:—'We were talking of Hexameters with you. I will, for want of something better, fill up the paper with a translation of one of my favourite Psalms into that metre which allowing trochees for spondees, as the nature of our Language demands, you will find pretty accurate a scansion.' Mahomet and, no doubt, the Hymn to the Earth may be assigned to the end of September or the beginning of October, 1799.


HYMN TO THE EARTH[327:1]

[IMITATED FROM STOLBERG'S HYMNE AN DIE ERDE]

HEXAMETERS

Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and the mother,
Hail! O Goddess, thrice hail! Blest be thou! and, blessing, I hymn thee!
[328]Forth, ye sweet sounds! from my harp, and my voice shall float on your surges—
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.
Into my being thou murmurest joy, and tenderest sadness
Shedd'st thou, like dew, on my heart, till the joy and the heavenly sadness
Pour themselves forth from my heart in tears, and the hymn of thanksgiving.
Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and the mother, 15
Sister thou of the stars, and beloved by the Sun, the rejoicer!
Guardian and friend of the moon, O Earth, whom the comets forget not,
Yea, in the measureless distance wheel round and again they behold thee!
Fadeless and young (and what if the latest birth of creation?)
Bride and consort of Heaven, that looks down upon thee enamoured! 20
Say, mysterious Earth! O say, great mother and goddess,
Was it not well with thee then, when first thy lap was ungirdled,
Thy lap to the genial Heaven, the day that he wooed thee and won thee!
Fair was thy blush, the fairest and first of the blushes of morning!
Deep was the shudder, O Earth! the throe of thy self-retention: 25
[329]Inly thou strovest to flee, and didst seek thyself at thy centre!
Mightier far was the joy of thy sudden resilience; and forthwith
Myriad myriads of lives teemed forth from the mighty embracement.
Thousand-fold tribes of dwellers, impelled by thousand-fold instincts,
Filled, as a dream, the wide waters; the rivers sang on their channels; 30
Laughed on their shores the hoarse seas; the yearning ocean swelled upward;
Young life lowed through the meadows, the woods, and the echoing mountains,
Wandered bleating in valleys, and warbled on blossoming branches.

1799.


FOOTNOTES:

[327:1] First published in Friendship's Offering, 1834, pp. 165-7, with other pieces, under the general heading:—Fragments from the Wreck of Memory: or Portions of Poems composed in Early Manhood: by S. T. Coleridge. A Note was prefixed:—'It may not be without use or interest to youthful, and especially to intelligent female readers of poetry, to observe that in the attempt to adapt the Greek metres to the English language, we must begin by substituting quality of sound for quantity—that is, accentuated or comparatively emphasized syllables, for what in the Greek and Latin Verse, are named long, and of which the prosodial mark is ¯; and vice versâ, unaccented syllables for short marked ˘. Now the Hexameter verse consists of two sorts of feet, the spondee composed of two long syllables, and the dactyl, composed of one long syllable followed by two short. The following verse from the Psalms is a rare instance of a perfect hexameter (i. e. line of six feet) in the English language:—

Gōd cāme | ūp wĭth ă | shōut: oūr | Lōrd wĭth thĕ | sōund ŏf ă | trūmpĕt.

But so few are the truly spondaic words in our language, such as Ēgȳpt, ūprŏar, tūrmoĭl, &c., that we are compelled to substitute, in most instances, the trochee; or ¯ ˘, i. e. in such words as mērry̆, līghtly̆, &c., for the proper spondee. It need only be added, that in the hexameter the fifth foot must be a dactyl, and the sixth a spondee, or trochee. I will end this note with two hexameter lines, likewise from the Psalms:—

Thēre ĭs ă | rīvĕr thĕ | flōwĭng whĕre|ōf shāll | glāddĕn thĕ | cīty̆,
Hāllē|lūjăh thĕ | cīty̆ | Gōd Jē|hōvăh hăth | blēst hĕr.

S. T. C.'

On some proof-sheets, or loose pages of a copy of The Hymn as published in Friendship's Offering for 1834, which Coleridge annotated, no doubt with a view to his corrections being adopted in the forthcoming edition of his poems (1834), he adds in MS. the following supplementary note:—'To make any considerable number of Hexameters feasible in our monosyllabic trocheeo-iambic language, there must, I fear, be other licenses granted—in the first foot, at least—ex. gr. a superfluous ˘ prefixed in cases of particles such as 'of, 'and', and the like: likewise ¯ ˘ ¯ where the stronger accent is on the first syllable.—S. T. C.'

The Hymn to the Earth is a free translation of F. L. Stolberg's Hymne an die Erde. (See F. Freiligrath's Biographical Memoirs prefixed to the Tauchnitz edition of the Poems published in 1852.) The translation exceeds the German original by two lines. The Hexameters 'from the Psalms' are taken from a metrical experiment which Coleridge sent to his brother George, in a letter dated September 29, 1799 (vide ante). First collected in 1834. The acknowledgement that the Hymn to the Earth is imitated from Stolberg's Hymne an die Erde was first prefixed by J. D. Campbell in 1893.

LINENOTES:

[8]

his] its F. O. 1834.

[9]

that creep or rush through thy tresses F. O. 1834.

[33]

on] in F. O. 1834.

After 33

       *       *       *       *       *

F. O. 1834.


MAHOMET[329:1]

Utter the song, O my soul! the flight and return of Mohammed,
Prophet and priest, who scatter'd abroad both evil and blessing,
Huge wasteful empires founded and hallow'd slow persecution,
Soul-withering, but crush'd the blasphemous rites of the Pagan
And idolatrous Christians.—For veiling the Gospel of Jesus, 5
They, the best corrupting, had made it worse than the vilest.
Wherefore Heaven decreed th' enthusiast warrior of Mecca,
Choosing good from iniquity rather than evil from goodness.
Loud the tumult in Mecca surrounding the fane of the idol;—
[330]Naked and prostrate the priesthood were laid—the people with mad shouts 10
Thundering now, and now with saddest ululation
Flew, as over the channel of rock-stone the ruinous river
Shatters its waters abreast, and in mazy uproar bewilder'd,
Rushes dividuous all—all rushing impetuous onward.

? 1799.


FOOTNOTES:

[329:1] First published in 1834. In an unpublished letter to Southey, dated Sept. 25, 1799, Coleridge writes, 'I shall go on with the Mohammed'. There can be no doubt that these fourteen lines, which represent Coleridge's contribution to a poem on 'Mahomet' which he had planned in conjunction with Southey, were at that time already in existence. For Southey's portion, which numbered 109 lines, see Oliver Newman. By Robert Southey, 1845, pp. 113-15.


LOVE[330:1]

All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
[331]Oft in my waking dreams do I 5
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruined tower.
[332]The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene
Had blended with the lights of eve; 10
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve!
She leant against the arméd man,
The statue of the arméd knight;
She stood and listened to my lay, 15
Amid the lingering light.
Few sorrows hath she of her own,
My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!
She loves me best, whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve. 20
I played a soft and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story—
An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary.
She listened with a flitting blush, 25
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
For well she knew, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.
I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burning brand; 30
And that for ten long years he wooed
The Lady of the Land.
[333]I told her how he pined: and ah!
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love, 35
Interpreted my own.
She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face! 40
But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night;
That sometimes from the savage den, 45
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,—
There came and looked him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright; 50
And that he knew it was a Fiend,
This miserable Knight!
And that unknowing what he did,
He leaped amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death 55
The Lady of the Land!
And how she wept, and clasped his knees;
And how she tended him in vain—
And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain;— 60
[334]And that she nursed him in a cave;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay;—
His dying words—but when I reached 65
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faultering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity!
All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve; 70
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued, 75
Subdued and cherished long!
She wept with pity and delight,
She blushed with love, and virgin-shame;
And like the murmur of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name. 80
Her bosom heaved—she stepped aside,
As conscious of my look she stepped—
Then suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.
She half enclosed me with her arms, 85
She pressed me with a meek embrace;
And bending back her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.
'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art, 90
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.
[335]I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve, 95
My bright and beauteous Bride.

1799.


FOOTNOTES:

[330:1] First published (with four preliminary and three concluding stanzas) as the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie, in the Morning Post, Dec. 21, 1799 (for complete text with introductory letter vide Appendices): included (as Love) in the Lyrical Ballads of 1800, 1802, 1805: reprinted with the text of the Morning Post in English Minstrelsy, 1810 (ii. 131-9) with the following prefatory note:—'These exquisite stanzas appeared some years ago in a London Newspaper, and have since that time been republished in Mr. Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads, but with some alterations; the Poet having apparently relinquished his intention of writing the Fate of the Dark Ladye': included (as Love) in Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The four opening and three concluding stanzas with prefatory note were republished in Literary Remains, 1836, pp. 50-2, and were first collected in 1844. For a facsimile of the MS. of Love as printed in the Lyrical Ballads, 1800 (i. 138-44), see Wordsworth and Coleridge MSS., edited by W. Hale White, 1897 (between pp. 34-5). For a collation of the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie with two MSS. in the British Museum [Add. MSS., No. 27,902] see Coleridge's Poems. A Facsimile Reproduction, &c. Ed. by James Dykes Campbell, 1899, and Appendices of this edition.

It is probable that the greater part of the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie was written either during or shortly after a visit which Coleridge paid to the Wordsworths's friends, George and Mary, and Sarah Hutchinson, at Sockburn, a farm-house on the banks of the Tees, in November, 1799. In the first draft, ll. 13-16, 'She leaned, &c.' runs thus:—

She lean'd against a grey stone rudely carv'd,
The statue of an arméd Knight:
She lean'd in melancholy mood
Amid the lingering light.

In the church at Sockburn there is a recumbent statue of an 'armed knight' (of the Conyers family), and in a field near the farm-house there is a 'Grey-Stone' which is said to commemorate the slaying of a monstrous wyverne or 'worme' by the knight who is buried in the church. It is difficult to believe that the 'arméd knight' and the 'grey stone' of the first draft were not suggested by the statue in Sockburn Church, and the 'Grey-Stone' in the adjoining field. It has been argued that the Ballad of the Dark Ladié, of which only a fragment remains, was written after Coleridge returned from Germany, and that the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie, which embodies Love, was written at Stowey in 1797 or 1798. But in referring to 'the plan' of the Lyrical Ballads of 1798 (Biog. Lit., 1817, Cap. XIV, ii. 3) Coleridge says that he had written the Ancient Mariner, and was preparing the Dark Ladie and the Christabel (both unpublished poems when this Chapter was written), but says nothing of so typical a poem as Love. By the Dark Ladié he must have meant the unfinished Ballad of the Dark Ladié, which, at one time, numbered 190 lines, not the Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie, which later on he refers to as the 'poem entitled Love' (Biog. Lit., 1817, Cap. XXIV, ii. 298), and which had appeared under that title in the Lyrical Ballads of 1800, 1802, and 1805.

In Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834, Love, which was the first in order of a group of poems with the sub-title 'Love Poems', was prefaced by the following motto:—

Quas humilis tenero stylus olim effudit in aevo,
Perlegis hic lacrymas, et quod pharetratus acuta
Ille puer puero fecit mihi cuspide vulnus.
Omnia paulatim consumit longior aetas,
Vivendoque simul morimur, rapimurque manendo.
Ipse mihi collatus enim non ille videbor:
Frons alia est, moresque alii, nova mentis imago,
Voxque aliud sonat—
Pectore nunc gelido calidos miseremur amantes,
Jamque arsisse pudet. Veteres tranquilla tumultus
Mens horret, relegensque alium putat ista locutum.

Petrarch.

LINENOTES: