[27]

And] That MS. E.

TO A YOUNG LADY[64:1]

WITH A POEM ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION

Much on my early youth I love to dwell,
 Ere yet I bade that friendly dome farewell,
 Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters pale,
 I heard of guilt and wonder'd at the tale!
 Yet though the hours flew by on careless wing, 5
 Full heavily of Sorrow would I sing.
 Aye as the Star of Evening flung its beam
 In broken radiance on the wavy stream,
 My soul amid the pensive twilight gloom
 Mourn'd with the breeze, O Lee Boo![64:2] o'er thy tomb. 10
 [65]Where'er I wander'd, Pity still was near,
 Breath'd from the heart and glisten'd in the tear:
 No knell that toll'd but fill'd my anxious eye,
 And suffering Nature wept that one should die![65:1]
Thus to sad sympathies I sooth'd my breast, 15
 Calm, as the rainbow in the weeping West:
 When slumbering Freedom roused by high Disdain
 With giant Fury burst her triple chain!
 Fierce on her front the blasting Dog-star glow'd;
 Her banners, like a midnight meteor, flow'd; 20
 Amid the yelling of the storm-rent skies!
 She came, and scatter'd battles from her eyes!
 Then Exultation waked the patriot fire
 And swept with wild hand the Tyrtaean lyre:
 Red from the Tyrant's wound I shook the lance, 25
 And strode in joy the reeking plains of France!
Fallen is the Oppressor, friendless, ghastly, low,
 And my heart aches, though Mercy struck the blow.
 With wearied thought once more I seek the shade,
 Where peaceful Virtue weaves the Myrtle braid. 30
 And O! if Eyes whose holy glances roll,
 Swift messengers, and eloquent of soul;
 [66]If Smiles more winning, and a gentler Mien
 Than the love-wilder'd Maniac's brain hath seen
 Shaping celestial forms in vacant air, 35
 If these demand the empassion'd Poet's care—
 If Mirth and soften'd Sense and Wit refined,
 The blameless features of a lovely mind;
 Then haply shall my trembling hand assign
 No fading wreath to Beauty's saintly shrine. 40
 Nor, Sara! thou these early flowers refuse—
 Ne'er lurk'd the snake beneath their simple hues;
 No purple bloom the Child of Nature brings
 From Flattery's night-shade: as he feels he sings.

September 1794.

FOOTNOTES:

[64:1] First published in The Watchman, No. I, March 1, 1796: included in 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. Three MSS. are extant: (1) the poem as sent to Southey in a letter dated Oct. 21, 1794 (see Letters of S. T. C., 1855, i. 94, 95); (2) the Estlin volume; (3) the MS. 4o copy-book.

[64:2] Lee Boo, the son of Abba Thule, Prince of the Pelew Islands, came over to England with Captain Wilson, died of the small-pox, and is buried in Greenwich churchyard. See Keate's Account of the Pelew Islands. 1788.

[65:1] And suffering Nature, &c. Southey's Retrospect.

'When eager patriots fly the news to spread
 Of glorious conquest, and of thousands dead;
 All feel the mighty glow of victor joy—
       *       *       *       *       *
But if extended on the gory plain,
 And, snatch'd in conquest, some lov'd friend be slain,
 Affection's tears will dim the sorrowing eye,
 And suffering Nature grieve that one should die.'

From the Retrospect by Robert Southey, published by Dilly [1795, pp. 9, 10]. MS. 4o.

LINENOTES:

Title] Verses addressed to a Lady with a poem relative to a recent event in the French Revolution MS. E.

[2]

friendly] guardian MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E.

[3]

cloisters] cloister MS. E.

[5]

careless] rosy MS. E.

[9]

My pensive soul amid the twilight gloom MS. Letter, 1794.

[10]

Boo] Bo MS. E.

[12]

glisten'd] glitter'd MS. Letter, 1794.

[13]

anxious] anguish'd MS. Letter, 1794.

[16]

Calm] Bright MS. E.

[17]

by] with 1829.

[23]

waked] woke MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E.

[24]

with wilder hand th' empassion'd lyre MS. Letter, 1794: with wilder hand th' Alcaean lyre MS. 4o, MS. E, Watchman, 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829.

[25]

wound] wounds MS. Letter, 1794.

[27]

In ghastly horror lie th' Oppressors low MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E, MS. 4o, 1796, Watchman.

[29]

With sad and wearied thought I seek the shade MS. E: With wearied thought I seek the amaranth shade MS. Letter, 1794.

[30]

the] her MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E.

[32]

The eloquent messengers of the pure soul MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E, MS. 4o, Watchman, 1796.

[33]

winning] cunning MS. Letter, 1794.

[36]

empassion'd] wond'ring MS. Letter, 1794.

[40]

wreath] flowers MS. Letter, 1794, MS. E.

[41-4]
Nor, Brunton! thou the blushing-wreath refuse,
 Though harsh her notes, yet guileless is my Muse.
 Unwont at Flattery's Voice to plume her wings,
 A Child of Nature, as she feels she sings.

MS. Letter, 1794.

Nor——! thou the blushing wreath refuse
 Tho' harsh her song, yet guileless is the Muse.
 Unwont &c.

MS. E.

[42-4]
No Serpent lurks beneath their simple hues.
 No purple blooms from Flattery's nightshade brings,
 The Child of Nature—as he feels he sings.

MS. 4o erased.

[43-4]
Nature's pure Child from Flatt'ry's night-shade brings
 No blooms rich-purpling: as he feels he sings.

MS. 4o.

Below l. 44 September, 1794 1797, 1803: September 1792 1828, 1829, 1834.

TRANSLATION[66:1]

OF WRANGHAM'S 'HENDECASYLLABI AD BRUNTONAM
E GRANTA EXITURAM' [KAL. OCT. MDCCXC]

Maid of unboastful charms! whom white-robed Truth
 Right onward guiding through the maze of youth,
 Forbade the Circe Praise to witch thy soul,
 And dash'd to earth th' intoxicating bowl:
 Thee meek-eyed Pity, eloquently fair, 5
 Clasp'd to her bosom with a mother's care;
 And, as she lov'd thy kindred form to trace,
 The slow smile wander'd o'er her pallid face.
For never yet did mortal voice impart
 Tones more congenial to the sadden'd heart: 10
 Whether, to rouse the sympathetic glow,
 [67]Thou pourest lone Monimia's tale of woe;
 Or haply clothest with funereal vest
 The bridal loves that wept in Juliet's breast.
 O'er our chill limbs the thrilling Terrors creep, 15
 Th' entrancéd Passions their still vigil keep;
 While the deep sighs, responsive to the song,
 Sound through the silence of the trembling throng.
But purer raptures lighten'd from thy face,
 And spread o'er all thy form an holier grace, 20
 When from the daughter's breasts the father drew
 The life he gave, and mix'd the big tear's dew.
 Nor was it thine th' heroic strain to roll
 With mimic feelings foreign from the soul:
 Bright in thy parent's eye we mark'd the tear; 25
 Methought he said, 'Thou art no Actress here!
 A semblance of thyself the Grecian dame,
 And Brunton and Euphrasia still the same!'
O soon to seek the city's busier scene,
 Pause thee awhile, thou chaste-eyed maid serene, 30
 Till Granta's sons from all her sacred bowers
 With grateful hand shall weave Pierian flowers
 To twine a fragrant chaplet round thy brow,
 Enchanting ministress of virtuous woe!

1794.

FOOTNOTES:

[66:1] First published in Poems, by Francis Wrangham, London, 1795, pp. 79-83. First collected in P. and D. W., 1880, ii. 360* (Supplement).

TO MISS BRUNTON[67:1]

WITH THE PRECEDING TRANSLATION

That darling of the Tragic Muse,
 When Wrangham sung her praise,
 Thalia lost her rosy hues,
 And sicken'd at her lays:
But transient was th' unwonted sigh; 5
 For soon the Goddess spied
 A sister-form of mirthful eye,
 And danc'd for joy and cried:
'Meek Pity's sweetest child, proud dame,
 The fates have given to you! 10
 Still bid your Poet boast her name;
 I have my Brunton too.'

1794.

FOOTNOTES:

[67:1] First published in Poems, by Francis Wrangham, 1795, p. 83. First collected in P. and D. W., 1880, ii. 362* (Supplement).

EPITAPH ON AN INFANT[68:1]

Ere Sin could blight or Sorrow fade,
 Death came with friendly care:
 The opening Bud to Heaven convey'd,
 And bade it blossom there.

1794.

FOOTNOTES:

[68:1] First published in the Morning Chronicle, September 23, 1794: included in The Watchman, No. IX, May 5, 1796, Poems 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. These well-known lines, which vexed the soul of Charles Lamb, were probably adapted from 'An Epitaph on an Infant' in the churchyard of Birchington, Kent (A Collection of Epitaphs, 1806, i. 219):—

Ah! why so soon, just as the bloom appears,
 Drops the fair blossom in the vale of tears?
 Death view'd the treasure in the desart given
 And claim'd the right of planting it in Heav'n.

In MS. E a Greek version (possibly a rejected prize epigram) is prefixed with the accompanying footnote.

Ηλυες εἰς αιδην, καὶ δή τυ ποθεῦσι τοκηες:
 Ηλυες αδυ βρεφος! τοι βραχυ δυνε φαος.
 Ομμα μεν εις σεο σῆμα Πατηρ πικρον ποτιβαλλει
 Ευσεβεης δε Θεῳ δωρα διδωσιν ἑα![68:A]

[68:A] Translation of the Greek Epitaph. 'Thou art gone down into the Grave, and heavily do thy Parents feel the Loss. Thou art gone down into the Grave, sweet Baby! Thy short Light is set! Thy Father casts an Eye of Anguish towards thy Tomb—yet with uncomplaining Piety resigns to God his own Gift!'

Equal or Greater simplicity marks all the writings of the Greek Poets.—The above [i. e. the Greek] Epitaph was written in Imitation of them. [S. T. C.]

PANTISOCRACY[68:2]

No more my visionary soul shall dwell
 On joys that were; no more endure to weigh
 The shame and anguish of the evil day,
 Wisely forgetful! O'er the ocean swell
 [69]Sublime of Hope, I seek the cottag'd dell 5
 Where Virtue calm with careless step may stray,
 And dancing to the moonlight roundelay,
 The wizard Passions weave an holy spell.
 Eyes that have ach'd with Sorrow! Ye shall weep
 Tears of doubt-mingled joy, like theirs who start 10
 From Precipices of distemper'd sleep,
 On which the fierce-eyed Fiends their revels keep,
 And see the rising Sun, and feel it dart
 New rays of pleasance trembling to the heart.

1794.

FOOTNOTES:

[68:2] First published in the Life and Correspondence of R. Southey, 1849, i. 224. First collected 1852 (Notes). Southey includes the sonnet in a letter to his brother Thomas dated Oct. 19, 1794, and attributes the authorship to Coleridge's friend S. Favell, with whom he had been in correspondence. He had already received the sonnet in a letter from Coleridge (dated Sept. 18, 1794), who claims it for his own and apologizes for the badness of the poetry. The octave was included (ll. 129-36) in the second version of the Monody on the Death of Chatterton, first printed in Lancelot Sharpe's edition of the Poems of Chatterton published at Cambridge in 1794. Mrs. H. N. Coleridge (Poems, 1852, p. 382) prints the sonnet and apologizes for the alleged plagiarism. It is difficult to believe that either the first eight or last six lines of the sonnet were not written by Coleridge. It is included in the MS. volume of Poems which Coleridge presented to Mrs. Estlin in 1795. The text is that of Letter Sept. 18, 1794.

LINENOTES:

Title] Sonnet MS. E.

[1]

my] the MS. E.

[8]

Passions weave] Passion wears Letter, Oct. 19 1794, 1852.

[9]

Sorrow] anguish Letter, Oct. 19 1794, 1852.

[10]

like theirs] as those Letter, Oct. 19 1794, 1852: as they, MS. E.

[12]

feel] find Letter, Oct. 19 1794, 1852.

[14]

pleasance] pleasure Letter, Oct. 19 1794, 1852.

ON THE PROSPECT OF ESTABLISHING
A PANTISOCRACY IN AMERICA[69:1]

Whilst pale Anxiety, corrosive Care,
 The tear of Woe, the gloom of sad Despair,
 And deepen'd Anguish generous bosoms rend;—
 Whilst patriot souls their country's fate lament;
 Whilst mad with rage demoniac, foul intent, 5
 Embattled legions Despots vainly send
 To arrest the immortal mind's expanding ray
 Of everlasting Truth;—I other climes
 Where dawns, with hope serene, a brighter day
 Than e'er saw Albion in her happiest times, 10
 With mental eye exulting now explore,
 And soon with kindred minds shall haste to enjoy
 (Free from the ills which here our peace destroy)
 Content and Bliss on Transatlantic shore.

1795.

FOOTNOTES:

[69:1] First published in the Co-operative Magazine and Monthly Herald, March 6, 1826, and reprinted in the Athenæum, Nov. 5, 1904. First collected in 1907. It has been conjectured, but proof is wanting, that the sonnet was written by Coleridge.

ELEGY[69:2]

IMITATED FROM ONE OF AKENSIDE'S BLANK-VERSE
INSCRIPTIONS [(No.) III.]

Near the lone pile with ivy overspread,
 Fast by the rivulet's sleep-persuading sound,
 [70]Where 'sleeps the moonlight' on yon verdant bed—
 O humbly press that consecrated ground!
For there does Edmund rest, the learnéd swain! 5
 And there his spirit most delights to rove:
 Young Edmund! fam'd for each harmonious strain,
 And the sore wounds of ill-requited Love.
Like some tall tree that spreads its branches wide,
 And loads the West-wind with its soft perfume, 10
 His manhood blossom'd; till the faithless pride
 Of fair Matilda sank him to the tomb.
But soon did righteous Heaven her Guilt pursue!
 Where'er with wilder'd step she wander'd pale,
 Still Edmund's image rose to blast her view, 15
 Still Edmund's voice accus'd her in each gale.
With keen regret, and conscious Guilt's alarms,
 Amid the pomp of Affluence she pined;
 Nor all that lur'd her faith from Edmund's arms
 Could lull the wakeful horror of her mind. 20
Go, Traveller! tell the tale with sorrow fraught:
 Some tearful Maid perchance, or blooming Youth,
 May hold it in remembrance; and be taught
 That Riches cannot pay for Love or Truth.

? 1794.

FOOTNOTES:

[69:2] First published in the Morning Chronicle, September 23, 1794: included in The Watchman, No. III, March 17, 1794: in Sibylline Leaves, 1817: 1828, 1829, and 1834, but omitted in 1852 as of doubtful origin. The elegy as printed in the Morning Chronicle is unsigned. In The Watchman it is signed T.

LINENOTES:

Title] An Elegy Morning Chronicle, Watchman.

[1]

the] yon M. C.

[6]

And there his pale-eyed phantom loves to rove M. C.

[10]

West-wind] Zephyr M. C.

[11]

till] ere M. C.

[12]

Lucinda sunk M. C.

[13]

Guilt] crime M. C.

[14]

step] steps M. C.

[17]

remorse and tortur'd Guilt's M. C.

[20]

Could soothe the conscious horrors of her mind M. C. horror] horrors The Watchman.

[22]

tearful] lovely M. C.

THE FADED FLOWER[70:1]

Ungrateful he, who pluck'd thee from thy stalk,
 Poor faded flow'ret! on his careless way;
 Inhal'd awhile thy odours on his walk,
 Then onward pass'd and left thee to decay.
 Ah! melancholy emblem! had I seen 5
 Thy modest beauties dew'd with Evening's gem,
 I had not rudely cropp'd thy parent stem,
 But left thee, blushing, 'mid the enliven'd green
 And now I bend me o'er thy wither'd bloom,
 [71]And drop the tear—as Fancy, at my side, 10
 Deep-sighing, points the fair frail Abra's tomb—
 'Like thine, sad Flower, was that poor wanderer's pride!
 Oh! lost to Love and Truth, whose selfish joy
 Tasted her vernal sweets, but tasted to destroy!'

1794.

FOOTNOTES:

[70:1] First published in the Monthly Magazine, August, 1836. First collected in P. W., 1893.

THE OUTCAST[71:1]

Pale Roamer through the night! thou poor Forlorn!
 Remorse that man on his death-bed possess,
 Who in the credulous hour of tenderness
 Betrayed, then cast thee forth to Want and Scorn!
 The world is pitiless: the chaste one's pride 5
 Mimic of Virtue scowls on thy distress:
 Thy Loves and they that envied thee deride:
 And Vice alone will shelter Wretchedness!
 O! I could weep to think that there should be
 Cold-bosom'd lewd ones, who endure to place 10
 Foul offerings on the shrine of Misery,
 And force from Famine the caress of Love;
 May He shed healing on the sore disgrace,
 He, the great Comforter that rules above!

? 1794.

FOOTNOTES:

[71:1] First published in 1796: included in 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. 'The first half of Effusion xv was written by the Author of "Joan of Arc", an Epic Poem.' Preface to Poems, 1796, p. xi.

LINENOTES:

Title] Effusion xv. 1796: Sonnet vii. 1797: Sonnet vi. 1803: Sonnet ix. 1828, 1829, and 1834: An Unfortunate 1893.

[7]

Thy kindred, when they see thee, turn aside 1803.

[9]

O I am sad 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829.

[10]

Men, born of woman 1803.

[13-14]
Man has no feeling for thy sore Disgrace:
 Keen blows the Blast upon the moulting Dove.

1803.

[13]

the] thy 1796, 1797, 1828.

DOMESTIC PEACE[71:2]

[FROM 'THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE', ACT I, L. 210]

Tell me, on what holy ground
 May Domestic Peace be found?
 Halcyon daughter of the skies,
 Far on fearful wings she flies,
 From the pomp of Sceptered State, 5
 From the Rebel's noisy hate.
In a cottag'd vale She dwells,
 Listening to the Sabbath bells!
 [72]Still around her steps are seen
 Spotless Honour's meeker mien, 10
 Love, the sire of pleasing fears,
 Sorrow smiling through her tears,
 And conscious of the past employ
 Memory, bosom-spring of joy.

1794.

FOOTNOTES: