[419:1] First published in 1828: included in 1829 and 1884. In a Notebook of (?) 1811 these lines are preceded by the following couplet:—

Complained of, complaining, there shov'd and here shoving,
 Every one blaming me, ne'er a one loving.

LINENOTES:

[4]

Yes] Yes 1828, 1829.

[6]

are] are 1828, 1829. were] were 1828, 1829.

TIME, REAL AND IMAGINARY[419:2]

AN ALLEGORY

On the wide level of a mountain's head,
 (I knew not where, but 'twas some faery place)
 [420]Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails out-spread,
 Two lovely children run an endless race,
 A sister and a brother! 5
 This far outstripp'd the other;
 Yet ever runs she with reverted face.
 And looks and listens for the boy behind:
 For he, alas! is blind!
 O'er rough and smooth with even step he passed, 10
 And knows not whether he be first or last.

? 1812.

FOOTNOTES:

[419:2] First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, in the preliminary matter, p. v: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. In the 'Preface' to Sibylline Leaves, p. iii, an apology is offered for its insertion on the plea that it was a 'school boy poem' added 'at the request of the friends of my youth'. The title is explained as follows:—'By imaginary Time, I meant the state of a school boy's mind when on his return to school he projects his being in his day dreams, and lives in his next holidays, six months hence; and this I contrasted with real Time.' In a Notebook of (?) 1811 there is an attempt to analyse and illustrate the 'sense of Time', which appears to have been written before the lines as published in Sibylline Leaves took shape: 'How marked the contrast between troubled manhood and joyously-active youth in the sense of time! To the former, time like the sun in an empty sky is never seen to move, but only to have moved. There, there it was, and now 'tis here, now distant! yet all a blank between. To the latter it is as the full moon in a fine breezy October night, driving on amid clouds of all shapes and hues, and kindling shifting colours, like an ostrich in its speed, and yet seems not to have moved at all. This I feel to be a just image of time real and time as felt, in two different states of being. The title of the poem therefore (for poem it ought to be) should be time real and time felt (in the sense of time) in active youth, or activity with hope and fullness of aim in any period, and in despondent, objectless manhood—time objective and subjective.' Anima Poetae, 1895, pp. 241-2.

AN INVOCATION[420:1]

From remorse

[Act iii, Scene i. ll. 69-82.]

Hear, sweet Spirit, hear the spell,
 Lest a blacker charm compel!
 So shall the midnight breezes swell
 With thy deep long-lingering knell.
And at evening evermore, 5
 In a chapel on the shore,
 Shall the chaunter, sad and saintly,
 Yellow tapers burning faintly,
 Doleful masses chaunt for thee,
 Miserere Domine! 10
Hush! the cadence dies away
 On the quiet moonlight sea:
 The boatmen rest their oars and say,
 Miserere Domine!

1812.

FOOTNOTES:

[420:1] First published in Remorse, 1813. First collected, 1844.

LINENOTES:

[7]

chaunter] chaunters 1813, 1828, 1839, 1893.

[12]

quiet] yellow 1813, 1828, 1829.

THE NIGHT-SCENE[421:1]

A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT

Sandoval. You loved the daughter of Don Manrique?
Earl Henry. Loved?
Sand. Did you not say you wooed her?
Earl H. Once I loved
 Her whom I dared not woo!
Sand. And wooed, perchance,
 One whom you loved not!
Earl H. Oh! I were most base,
 Not loving Oropeza. True, I wooed her, 5
 Hoping to heal a deeper wound; but she
 Met my advances with impassioned pride,
 That kindled love with love. And when her sire,
 Who in his dream of hope already grasped
 The golden circlet in his hand, rejected 10
 My suit with insult, and in memory
 Of ancient feuds poured curses on my head,
 Her blessings overtook and baffled them!
 But thou art stern, and with unkindly countenance
 Art inly reasoning whilst thou listenest to me. 15
Sand. Anxiously, Henry! reasoning anxiously.
 But Oropeza—
Earl H. Blessings gather round her!
 Within this wood there winds a secret passage,
 Beneath the walls, which opens out at length
 Into the gloomiest covert of the garden.— 20
 The night ere my departure to the army,
 She, nothing trembling, led me through that gloom,
 And to that covert by a silent stream,
 Which, with one star reflected near its marge,
 Was the sole object visible around me. 25
 No leaflet stirred; the air was almost sultry;
 So deep, so dark, so close, the umbrage o'er us!
 [422]No leaflet stirred;—yet pleasure hung upon
 The gloom and stillness of the balmy night-air.
 A little further on an arbour stood, 30
 Fragrant with flowering trees—I well remember
 What an uncertain glimmer in the darkness
 Their snow-white blossoms made—thither she led me,
 To that sweet bower! Then Oropeza trembled—
 I heard her heart beat—if 'twere not my own. 35
Sand. A rude and soaring note, my friend!
Earl H. Oh! no!
 I have small memory of aught but pleasure.
 The inquietudes of fear, like lesser streams
 Still flowing, still were lost in those of love:
 So love grew mightier from the fear, and Nature, 40
 Fleeing from Pain, sheltered herself in Joy.
 The stars above our heads were dim and steady,
 Like eyes suffused with rapture. Life was in us:
 We were all life, each atom of our frames
 A living soul—I vowed to die for her: 45
 With the faint voice of one who, having spoken,
 Relapses into blessedness, I vowed it:
 That solemn vow, a whisper scarcely heard,
 A murmur breathed against a lady's ear.
 Oh! there is joy above the name of pleasure. 50
 Deep self-possession, an intense repose.
Sand. (with a sarcastic smile). No other than as eastern sages paint,
 The God, who floats upon a Lotos leaf,
 Dreams for a thousand ages; then awaking,
 Creates a world, and smiling at the bubble, 55
 Relapses into bliss.
Earl H. Ah! was that bliss
 Feared as an alien, and too vast for man?
 For suddenly, impatient of its silence,
 Did Oropeza, starting, grasp my forehead.
 I caught her arms; the veins were swelling on them. 60
 Through the dark bower she sent a hollow voice;—
 'Oh! what if all betray me? what if thou?'
 I swore, and with an inward thought that seemed
 The purpose and the substance of my being,
 I swore to her, that were she red with guilt, 65
 I would exchange my unblenched state with hers.—
 Friend! by that winding passage, to that bower
 I now will go—all objects there will teach me
 [423]Unwavering love, and singleness of heart.
 Go, Sandoval! I am prepared to meet her— 70
 Say nothing of me—I myself will seek her—
 Nay, leave me, friend! I cannot bear the torment
 And keen inquiry of that scanning eye.—

[Earl Henry retires into the wood.

Sand. (alone). O Henry! always striv'st thou to be great
 By thine own act—yet art thou never great 75
 But by the inspiration of great passion.
 The whirl-blast comes, the desert-sands rise up
 And shape themselves; from Earth to Heaven they stand,
 As though they were the pillars of a temple,
 Built by Omnipotence in its own honour! 80
 But the blast pauses, and their shaping spirit
 Is fled: the mighty columns were but sand,
 And lazy snakes trail o'er the level ruins!

1813.

FOOTNOTES:

[421:1] First published in its present state in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. For an earlier draft, forming part of an 'Historic Drama in Five Acts' (unfinished) entitled The Triumph of Loyalty, 1801, vide Appendices of this edition. A prose sketch without title or heading is contained in one of Coleridge's earliest notebooks.

LINENOTES:

[14]

unkindly] unkindling 1893.

[23]

And to the covert by that silent stream S. L., corrected in Errata, p. [xi].

[24]

near] o'er S. L., corrected in Errata, p. [xi].

A HYMN[423:1]

My Maker! of thy power the trace
 In every creature's form and face
 The wond'ring soul surveys:
 Thy wisdom, infinite above
 Seraphic thought, a Father's love 5
 As infinite displays!
From all that meets or eye or ear,
 There falls a genial holy fear
 Which, like the heavy dew of morn,
 Refreshes while it bows the heart forlorn! 10
Great God! thy works how wondrous fair!
 Yet sinful man didst thou declare
 The whole Earth's voice and mind!
 [424]Lord, ev'n as Thou all-present art,
 O may we still with heedful heart 15
 Thy presence know and find!
 Then, come what will, of weal or woe,
 Joy's bosom-spring shall steady flow;
 For though 'tis Heaven Thyself to see,
 Where but thy Shadow falls, Grief cannot be!— 20

1814.

FOOTNOTES:

[423:1] First published in Poems, 1852. The MS. was placed in the hands of the Editors by J. W. Wilkins, Esq., of Trinity Hall, Cambridge. 'The accompanying autograph,' writes Mr. Wilkins, 'dated 1814, and addressed to Mrs. Hood of Brunswick Square, was given not later than the year 1817 to a relative of my own who was then residing at Clifton (and was, at the time at which it passed into his hands, an attendant on Mr. Coleridge's lectures, which were in course of delivery at that place), either by the lady to whom it is addressed, or by some other friend of Mr. Coleridge.' 1852, Notes, p. 385.

TO A LADY[424:1]

WITH FALCONER'S SHIPWRECK

Ah! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams,
 In archéd groves, the youthful poet's choice;
 Nor while half-listening, 'mid delicious dreams,
 To harp and song from lady's hand and voice;
Not yet while gazing in sublimer mood 5
 On cliff, or cataract, in Alpine dell;
 Nor in dim cave with bladdery sea-weed strewed.
 Framing wild fancies to the ocean's swell;
Our sea-bard sang this song! which still he sings,
 And sings for thee, sweet friend! Hark, Pity, hark! 10
 Now mounts, now totters on the tempest's wings,
 Now groans, and shivers, the replunging bark!
'Cling to the shrouds!' In vain! The breakers roar—
 Death shrieks! With two alone of all his clan
 Forlorn the poet paced the Grecian shore, 15
 No classic roamer, but a shipwrecked man!
[425]Say then, what muse inspired these genial strains,
 And lit his spirit to so bright a flame?
 The elevating thought of suffered pains,
 Which gentle hearts shall mourn; but chief, the name 20
Of gratitude! remembrances of friend,
 Or absent or no more! shades of the Past,
 Which Love makes substance! Hence to thee I send,
 O dear as long as life and memory last!
I send with deep regards of heart and head, 25
 Sweet maid, for friendship formed! this work to thee:
 And thou, the while thou canst not choose but shed
 A tear for Falconer, wilt remember me.

? 1814.

FOOTNOTES:

[424:1] First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. A different or emended version headed 'Written in a Blank Leaf of Faulkner's Shipwreck, presented by a friend to Miss K', was published in Felix Farley's Bristol Journal of February 21, 1818. [See Note by G. E. Weare, Weston-super-Mare, January, 1905.]

LINENOTES:

Title] To a Lady With Falkner's 'Shipwreck' S. L.

[2]

archéd] cloyst'ring F. F.

[3]

'mid] midst F. F.

[4]

lady's] woman's F. F.

[5]

sublimer] diviner F. F.

[6]

On torrent falls, on woody mountain dell F. F.

[7]

sea-weed] sea-weeds F. F.

[8]

Attuning wild tales to the ocean's swell F. F.

[9]

this] this F. F.

[10]

thee] thee F. F.

[11]

It mounts, it totters F. F.

[12]

It groans, it quivers F. F.

[14]

of] and F. F.

[15]

Forlorn the] The toil-worn F. F.

[17-20]
Say then what power evoked such genial strains
 And beckon'd godlike to the trembling Muse?
 The thought not pleasureless of suffer'd pains
 But chiefly friendship's voice, her holy dues.

F. F.

[21]

Demanding dear remembrances of friend F. F.

[22]

Which love makes real! Thence F. F.

[24]

life] love F. F.

[26]

Sweet Maid for friendship framed this song to thee F. F.

[28]

Falconer] Falkner S. L.: Faulkner F. F. me] me S. L., 1828, 1829.

HUMAN LIFE[425:1]

—ON THE DENIAL OF IMMORTALITY

If dead, we cease to be; if total gloom
 Swallow up life's brief flash for aye, we fare
 As summer-gusts, of sudden birth and doom,
 Whose sound and motion not alone declare,
 But are their whole of being! If the breath[425:2] 5
 Be Life itself, and not its task and tent,
 If even a soul like Milton's can know death;
 O Man! thou vessel purposeless, unmeant,
 Yet drone-hive strange of phantom purposes!
 Surplus of Nature's dread activity, 10
 Which, as she gazed on some nigh-finished vase,
 Retreating slow, with meditative pause,
 She formed with restless hands unconsciously.
 Blank accident! nothing's anomaly!
 [426]If rootless thus, thus substanceless thy state, 15
 Go, weigh thy dreams, and be thy hopes, thy fears,
 The counter-weights!—Thy laughter and thy tears
 Mean but themselves, each fittest to create
 And to repay the other! Why rejoices
 Thy heart with hollow joy for hollow good? 20
 Why cowl thy face beneath the mourner's hood?
 Why waste thy sighs, and thy lamenting voices,
 Image of Image, Ghost of Ghostly Elf,
 That such a thing as thou feel'st warm or cold?
 Yet what and whence thy gain, if thou withhold 25
 These costless shadows of thy shadowy self?
 Be sad! be glad! be neither! seek, or shun!
 Thou hast no reason why! Thou canst have none;
 Thy being's being is contradiction.

? 1815.

FOOTNOTES:

[425:1] First published in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: included in 1828, 1829, and 1834.

[425:2] Halitus = anima animae tabernaculum MS. Note (? S. T. C.)

LINENOTES:

[5]

are] are S. L., 1828, 1829. whole] whole S. L., 1828, 1829.

[19]

the] each 1887-80, 1893.

SONG[426:1]

FROM ZAPOLYA

A Sunny shaft did I behold,
 From sky to earth it slanted:
 And poised therein a bird so bold—
 Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted!
He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled 5
 Within that shaft of sunny mist;
 His eyes of fire, his beak of gold,
 All else of amethyst!
And thus he sang: 'Adieu! adieu!
 Love's dreams prove seldom true. 10
 [427]The blossoms they make no delay:
 The sparkling dew-drops will not stay.
 Sweet month of May,
 We must away;
 Far, far away! 15
 To-day! to-day!'

1815.

FOOTNOTES:

[426:1] First published in Zapolya, 1817 (Act ii, Scene i, ll. 65-80). First collected in 1844. Two MSS. are extant, one in the possession of Mr. John Murray (MS. M.), and a second in the possession of the Editor (MS. S. T. C.). For a prose version of Glycine's Song, probably a translation from the German, vide Appendices of this edition.

LINENOTES:

Title] Sung by Glycine in Zapolya 1893: Glycine's Song MS. M.

[1]

A pillar grey did I behold MS. S. T. C.

[4]

A faery Bird that chanted MS. S. T. C.

[6]

sunny] shiny MS. S. T. C.

[11, 12]

om. MS S. T. C., MS. M.

HUNTING SONG[427:1]

FROM ZAPOLYA

Up, up! ye dames, and lasses gay!
 To the meadows trip away.
 'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,
 And scare the small birds from the corn.
 Not a soul at home may stay: 5
 For the shepherds must go
 With lance and bow
 To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
Leave the hearth and leave the house
 To the cricket and the mouse: 10
 Find grannam out a sunny seat.
 With babe and lambkin at her feet.
 Not a soul at home may stay:
 For the shepherds must go
 With lance and bow 15
 To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.

1815.

FOOTNOTES:

[427:1] First published in Zapolya (Act iv, Scene ii, ll. 56-71). First collected, 1844.

LINENOTES:

Title] Choral Song 1893.

FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY[427:2]

FROM THE ITALIAN OF GUARINI

FAITH
Let those whose low delights to Earth are given
 Chaunt forth their earthly Loves! but we
 Must make an holier minstrelsy,
 And, heavenly-born, will sing the Things of Heaven.
[428]CHARITY
But who for us the listening Heart shall gain? 5
 Inaudible as of the sphere
 Our music dies upon the ear,
 Enchanted with the mortal Syren's strain.
HOPE
Yet let our choral songs abound!
 Th' inspiring Power, its living Source, 10
 May flow with them and give them force,
 If, elsewhere all unheard, in Heaven they sound.
ALL
Aid thou our voice, Great Spirit! thou whose flame
 Kindled the Songster sweet of Israel,
 Who made so high to swell 15
 Beyond a mortal strain thy glorious Name.
CHARITY AND FAITH
Though rapt to Heaven, our mission and our care
 Is still to sojourn on the Earth,
 To shape, to soothe, Man's second Birth,
 And re-ascend to Heaven, Heaven's prodigal Heir! 20
CHARITY
What is Man's soul of Love deprived?
HOPE. FAITH
It like a Harp untunéd is,
 That sounds, indeed, but sounds amiss.
CHARITY. HOPE
From holy Love all good gifts are derived.
FAITH
But 'tis time that every nation 25
 Should hear how loftily we sing.
FAITH. HOPE. CHARITY
See, O World, see thy salvation!
 Let the Heavens with praises ring.
 Who would have a Throne above,
 Let him hope, believe and love; 30
 And whoso loves no earthly song,
 But does for heavenly music long,
 Faith, Hope, and Charity for him,
 Shall sing like wingéd Cherubim.

1815.

FOOTNOTES:

[427:2] From a hitherto unpublished MS. For the original Dialogo: Fide, Speranza, Fide, included in the 'Madrigali . . .' del Signor Cavalier Battista Guarini, 1663, vide Appendices of this edition. The translation in Coleridge's handwriting is preceded by another version transcribed and, possibly, composed by Hartley Coleridge.

TO NATURE[429:1]

It may indeed be phantasy, when I
 Essay to draw from all created things
 Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
 And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
 Lessons of love and earnest piety. 5
 So let it be; and if the wide world rings
 In mock of this belief, it brings
 Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
 So will I build my altar in the fields,
 And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be, 10
 And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
 Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
 Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise
 Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.

? 1820.

FOOTNOTES: