O all-enjoying and all-blending sage, Still in thy garden let me watch their pranks, IMPROVED FROM STOLBERG.* ON A CATARACT FROM A CAVERN NEAR THE SUMMIT OF A MOUNTAIN PRECIPICE. STROPHE. NPERISHING youth! UN Thou leapest from forth The cell of thy hidden nativity; The cradle of the strong one; The gathering of his voices; The deep-murmured charm of the son of the rock, That is lisped evermore at his slumberless fountain. There's a cloud at the portal, a spray-woven veil At the shrine of his ceaseless renewing; It embosoms the roses of dawn, It entangles the shafts of the noon, And into the bed of its stillness The moonshine sinks down as in slumber, See Note at the end of the volume. That the son of the rock, that the nursling of heaven May be born in a holy twilight! ANTISTROPHE. The wild goat in awe Looks up and beholds Above thee the cliff inaccessible ; Thou at once full-born Madd'nest in thy joyance, Whirlest, shatter'st, splitt'st, LOVE'S APPARITION AND EVANISH L MENT. AN ALLEGORIC ROMANCE. IKE a lone Arab, old and blind, Some caravan had left behind, Who sits beside a ruined well, Where the shy sand-asps bask and swell; And now he hangs his aged head aslant, And listens for a human sound-in vain! And now the aid, which Heaven alone can grant, With brow low bent, within my garden bower, And-whether 'twas a transient sleep, perchance, I watched the sickly calm with aimless scope, Ꮓ Love's elder sister! thee did I behold, Drest as a bridesmaid, but all pale and cold, And then came Love, a sylph in bridal trim, She bent, and kissed her sister's lips, Alas! 'twas but a chilling breath Anxious to associate the name of a most dear and honored friend with my own, I solicited and obtained the permission of Professor J. H. GREEN to permit the insertion of the two following poems, by him composed. S. T. COLERIDGE. MORNING INVITATION TO A CHILD. T HE house is a prison, the school-room's a cell! levee, Spread sail to the breeze, and glide off in a bevy. Dewy meadows enamelled in gold and in green, With king-cups and daisies, that all the year please, Sprays, petals and leaflets, that nod in the breeze, With carpets, and garlands, and wreaths, deck the way, And tempt the blithe spirit still onward to stray, Itself its own home;-far away! far away! The butterflies flutter in pairs round the bower; To the whoop of the huntsmen and tongue of the CONSOLATION OF A MANIAC. TH HE feverous dream is past! and I awake, Again to ply the never ending toil, And bid the task-worn memory weave again The tangled threads, and ravelled skein of thought, Disjointed fragments of my care-worn life! The storm is past;-but in the pause and hush, That dream, That dream, that dreadful dream, the potent spell, That calls to life the phantoms of the past,Makes e'en oblivion memory's register, Still swells and vibrates in my throbbing brain! . Again I wildly quaffed the maddening bowl, Again I staked my all,-again the die Proved traitor to my hopes ;-and 'twas for her, Whose love more maddened than the bowl, whose love, More dear than all, was treacherous as the die :Again I saw her with her paramour, Again I aimed the deadly blow, again I senseless fell, and knew not whom I struck, And hosts of fiendish shapes, uncertain seen |