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النشر الإلكتروني

ON HAVING LEFT A PLACE OF RETIREMENT.

Teinpt to repeat the wrong! And now, its

REFLECTIONS strings Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes Over delicious sarges sink and rise, Such a soft floating witchery of sound Low was our pretty cot: our tallest rose As twilight-Elfins make, when they at eve Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land,

hear Wherc Melodies round honey - dropping At silent noon, and eve, and early morn,

flowers,

The sea's faint murmur. In the open air Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise, Our myrtles blossom’d; and across the porch Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on untamed Thick jasmins twined: the little landscape wing!

round 0! the one life, within us and abroad, Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye. Which meets all motion and becomes its It was a spot which you might aptly call

soul,

The VALLEY of SECLUSION! Once I saw A light in sound, a sound-like power in light, (Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quietne68) Rhythm in all thought and joyance every- À wealthy son of commerce saunter by,

where

Bristowa’s citizen: methought, it calm’d Methinks, it should have been impossible His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse Not to love all things in a world so fill’d,' With wiser feelings: for he paus’d, and Where the breeze warbles and the mute

look'd still air

With a pleased sadness, and gazed all around, Is music slumbering on its instrument. Then eyed our cottage, and gazed round

again,

And sigh’d, and said, it was a blessed place. And thus, my love! as on the midway And we were blessed. Oft with patient ear

slope

Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark’s note of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon, (Viewless, or haply for a moment seen Whilst thro’my half-closed eye-lids I behold Gleaming on sunny wing) in whisper'd tones The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the I've said to my beloved : Such, sweet girl!

main,

The inobtrusive song of Happiness, And tranquil muse upon tranquillity; Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard Full many a thought uncall’d and undetain'd, When the soul seeks to hear; when all is And many idle flitting phantasies,

hush'd, Traverse my indolent and passive brain, And the heart listens! But the time, when first As wild and various as the random gales From that low dell, steep up the stony mount That swell and futter on this subject lute! I climb’d with perilous toil and reach'd

Oh! what a goodly scene! Here the bleak And what if all of animated nature

mount, Be but organic harps diversly fram’d, The bare bleak mountain speckled thin with That tremble into thought, as o'er them

sheep; sweeps

Gray clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,

fields; At once the Soul of each, and God of All? And river, now with bushy rocks o'erbrow'd,

Now winding bright and full, with naked

banks; But thy more serious eye a mild reproof and seats, and lawns, the abbey, and the wood, Darts, o beloved woman! nor such thoughts And cots, and hamlets, and faint city-spire: Dim and unhallow'd dost thou not reject, The channel there, the islands and white sails, And biddest me walk humbly with my God. Dim coasts, and cloud-like hills, and shoreMeek daughter in the family of Christ!

less ocean Well hast thou said and holily disprais'd It seem'd like Omnipresence! God, meThese shapings of the unregenerate mind,

thought, Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break Had built him there a Temple: the whole On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring.

world For never guiltless may I speak of bim, Seem'd imag’d in its vast circumference. Th'Incomprehensible! save when with awe No wish profan'd my overwhelined heart. I praise him, and with faith that inly feels; Blest hour! It was a luxury,—to be! Who with his saving mercies healed me, A sinful and most miserable man, Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess Ah! quiet dell! dear cot! and mount Peace, and this cot, and thee, heart-honor'd

sublime !
Maid !

I was constrain'd to quit you. Was it right,
While my unnumber'd brethren toil'd and

bled,

the top,

ills;

That I should dream away th' entrusted hours Me from the spot where first I sprung to On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward

light heart

Too soon transplanted, ere my soul had fix'd With feelings all too delicate for use? Its first domestic loves; and hence through Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's

life eye

Chasing chance-started friendships. A brief Drops on the cheek of One he lifts from

while earth :

Some have preserv'd me from life's pelting And He, that works me good with unmov'd

face,

But, like a tree with leaves of feeble stem, Does it but half: he chills me while he aids, If the clouds lasted, and a sudden breeze My benefactor, not my brother-man! Ruffled the boughs, they on my head at once Yet even this, this cold beneficence Dropt the collected shower; and some most Praise, praise it, oh my soul! oft as thou

false, scann'st

False and fair foliag'd as the Manchineel, The sluggard Pity's vision-weaving tribe, Have tempted me to slumber in their shade Who sigh for wretchedness, yet shun the E'en 'mid the storm; then breathing subtlest wretched,

damps, Nursing in some delicious solitude

Mixt their own venom with the rain from Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies !

heaven, I therefore go, and join head, heart, and hand, That I woke poison'd! But, all praise to Him Active and firm, to fight the bloodless fight Who gives us all things, more have yielded me Of science, freedom, and the truth in Christ. Permanent shelter; and beside one Friend,

Beneath th' impervious covert of one Oak,

I've raised a lowly shed, and know the names Yet oft when after honorable toil

Of Husband and of Father; nor unhearing Rests the tir'd mind, and waking loves to Of that divine and nightly-whispering voice,

dream,

Which from my childhood to maturer years My spirit shall revisit thee, dear cot! Spake to me of predestinated wreaths, Thy jasmin and thy window-peeping rose, Bright with no fading colours! Yet at times And myrtles fearless of the mild sea-air. My soul is sad, that I have roam'd through And I shall sigh fond wishes-sweet abode!

life Ah!— had none greater! And that all had Still most a stranger, most with naked heart

such !

At mine own home and birth-place: chiefly It might be so-but the time is not yet.

then, Speed it, O Father! Let thy kingdom come! When I remember thee, my earliest Friend!

Thee, who didst watch my boyhood and

my youth; Didst trace my wanderings with a father's

eye; TO THE REV. GEORGE COLERIDGE And boding evil, yet still hoping good,

Rebuk'd each fault, and over all my woes
Sorrow'd in silence! He who counts alone

The beatings of the solitary heart,
Notus in fratres animi paterni.

That Being knows, how I have lov'd thee

ever, A BLESSED lot hath he, who having past Lov'd as a brother, as a son rever'd thee! His youth and early manhood in the stir Oh! 'tis to me an ever new delight And turmoil of the world, retreats at length, To talk of thee and thine; or when the blast With cares that move, not agitate the heart, of the shrill winter, rattling our rude sash, To the same dwelling where his father Endears the cleanly hearth and social bowl;

dwelt;

Or when, as now, on some delicious eve, And haply views his tott'ring little ones We in our sweet sequester'd orchard-plot Embrace those aged knees and climb that lap, Sit on the tree crook'd earth - ward; whose On which first kneeling his own Infancy

old boughs, Lisp'd its brief prayer. Such, oh my earliest That hang above us in an arborous roof,

Friend!

Stirr’d by the faint gale of departing May, Thy lot, and such thy brothers too enjoy: Send their loose blossoms slanting o'er our At distance did ye climb Life's upland-road,

heads! Yet cheerd and cheering: now fraternal Love Hath drawn you to one centre. Be your days Holy, and blest and blessing may ye live! Nor dost not thou sometimes recall those

hours,

When with the joy of hope thou gav 'st thine To me th’ Eternal Wisdom hath dispens'd A different fortune and more different mind - To my wild firstling-lays. Since theo my song

WITH SOME POEMS.

ear

mood,

FOR A FOUNTAIN ON A HEATH.

Hath sounded deeper notes, such as beseem Its worthless Idols! Learning, Power, and Or that sad wisdom, folly leaves behind,

Time, Or such as, tun'd to these tumultuous times, (Too much of all) thus wasting in vain war Cope with the tempest's swell! These Of fervid colloquy. Sickness, 'tis true,

, various strains, Whole years of weary days, besieged him Which I have fram'd in many a various

close,

Even to the gates and inlets of his life! Accept, my Brother! and (for some per- But it is true, no less, that strenuous, firm,

chance

And with a natural gladness, he maintained Will strike discordant on thy milder mind) The Citadel unconquer'd, and in joy If aught of error or intemperate truth Was strong to follow the delightful Muse. Should meet thine ear, think thou that For not a hidden path, that to the shades

riper age

Of the belov'd Parnassian forest leads, Will calm it down, and let thy love for- Lurk’d undiscover'd by him; not a rill

give it!

There issues from the fount of Hippocrene,
But he had trac'd it upward to its source;
Thro' open glade, dark glen, and secret dell,
knew the gay wild flowers on its banks, and

cull'd
INSCRIPTION

Its med'cinable herbs. Yea, oft alone,
Piercing the long-neglected holy cave,
The haunt obscure of old Philosophy,

He bade with lifted torch its starry walls This Sycamore, oft musical with Bees,- Sparkle, as erst they sparkled to the flame Such tents the Patriarchs lov’d! O long Of od’rous lamps tended by Saint and Sage.

unharm'd

O fram’d for calmer times and nobler hearts ! May all its aged boughs o'er-canopy O studious Poet, eloquent for truth! The small round basin, which this jutting Philosopher! contemning wealth and death,

stone

Yet docile, childlike, full of Life and Love! Keeps pure from falling leaves! Long may Here, rather than on monumental stone,

the spring,

This record of thy worth thy Friend inscribes, Quietly as a sleeping infant's breath, Thoughtful, with quiet tears upon his cheek. Send up cold waters to the traveller With soft and even pulse! Nor ever cease Yon tiny cone of sand its soundless dance, Which at the bottom, like a Fairy's Page,

THIS LIME-TREE-BOWER MY As merry and no taller, dances still, Nor wrinkles the smooth surface of the

PRISON. fount. Here twilight is and coolness: here is moss,

In the June of 1797 some long - expected Friends

paid a visit to the Author's Cottage ; and on the A soft seat, and a deep and ample shade. morning of their arrival he met with an acciThou mayst toil far and find no second tree; dent, which disabled him from walking during Drink, Pilgriin, here! Here rest! and if thy

the whole time of their stay. One evening,

when they had left him for a few hours, he heart

composed the following lines in the gardenBe innocent, here too shalt thou refresh bower. Thy spirit, list'ning to some gentle sound, Or passing gale, or hum of murmuring bees ! WELL, they are gone, and here must I

remain, This Lime-Tree-Bower my Prison! I have

lost

Beauties and feelings, such as would have been A TOMBLESS EPITAPH.

Most sweet to my remembrance, even when

age 'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane!

lad dimmed mine eyes to blindness! They, (So call him, for so mingling blame with

meanwhile, praise

Friends, whom I never more may meet again, And smiles with anxious looks, his earliest On springy heath, along the hill-top-edge,

friends,

Wander in gladness, and wind down, perMasking his birth-name, wont to character

chance, His wild-wood fancy and impetuous zeal,) To that still roaring dell, of which I told; Tis true that, passionate for ancient truths The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, And honoring with religious love the Great And only speckled by the mid-day Sun; Of elder times, he hated to excess,

Where its slim trunk the Ash from rock to With an unquiet and intolerant scorn,

rock The hollow puppets of an hollow age, Flings arching like a bridge ;-that branchErer idolatrous, and changing ever

less Ash,

NO MORE POETRY.

Unsunn’d and damp, whose few poor yellow That we may lift the soul, and contemplate

leaves

With lively joy the joys we cannot share. Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, My gentle-hearted Charles ! when the last Fann'd by the waterfall! and there my friends

rook Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds, Beat its straight path along the dusky air That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) Homewards, I blest it! decming, its black Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge

wing Of the blue clay-stone. Now, my friends (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light)

emerge

Had cross’d the mighty Orbis dilated glory, Beneath the wide wide heaven-and view While thou stoodst gazing; or when all was again

still, The many-steepled track magnificent Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea,

charm With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to light up

whom The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two No sound is dissonant which tells of life.

isles Of purple sbadow! Yes! they wander on In gladness all; but thou,methinks, most glad, My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined

TO A FRIEND And hunger'd after Nature, many a year, WHO HAD DECLARED HIS INTENTION OF WRITING In the great City pent, winning thy way With sad yet patient soul, through evil and

pain

DEAR Charles! whilst yet thou wert a And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink

babe, I ween Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun! That Genius plunged thee in that wizardSbine in the slant beams of the sinking orb

fount Ye purple heath-flowers ! richlier burn, ye Hight Castalie; and (sureties of thy faith)

clouds !

That Pity and Simplicity stood by, Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And promised for thee, that thou shouldst And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my Friend

renounce Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have The world's low cares and lying vanities,

stood,

Stedfast and rooted in the heavenly Muse, Silent with swimming sense; yea,gazing round And wash'd and sanctified to Poesy. On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem Yes—thou wert plunged, but with forgetful Less gross than bodily: and of such hues

hand As veil the almighty Spirit, when he makes Held, as by Thetis erst her warrior Son : Spirits perceive his presence. A delight And with those recreant unbaptized Heels Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad Thou’rt flying from thy bounden MinisAs I myself were there! Nor in this bower,

teries-This little lime-tree-bower, have I not mark'd So sore it seems and burthensome a task Much that has sooth'd me. Pale beneath To weave unwithering flowers ! But take the blaze

thou heed : Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch’a For thou art vulnerable, wild-eyed Boy, Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see And I have arrows mystically dipt, The shadow of the leaf and stem above Such as may stop thy speed. Is thy Barna Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree

dead ? Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay And shall he die unwept, and sink to Earth Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Without the meed of one melodious tear? Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest Thy Burns, and Nature's own beloved Bard,

Who to the Illustrious of his native Land Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter So properly did look for Patronage.

hue

Ghost of Maecenas ! hide thy blushing face! Through the late twilight: and though now They snatch'd him from the sickle and the the bat

ploughWheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, Togauge Ale-Firkins.-Oh!for shame return! Yet still the solitary humble bee

On a bleak rock, midway the Aonian mount, Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall There stands a lone and melancholy tree,

know

Whose aged branches to the midnight-blast That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure, Make solemn music: pluck its darkest boagh, No plot so narrow, be but Nature there, Ere yet the unwholesome night-dew be exNo waste so vacant, but may well employ

haled, Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart And weeping wreath it round thy Poet's tomb Awake to love and beauty! and sometimes Then in the outskirts, where pollutions grow, "Tis well to be bereft of promised good, Pick the rank henbane and the dasky flowers

mass

COMPOSED

DIVIDUAL MIND.

Of night - shade, or its red and tempting From the dread watch-tower of man's abfruit.

solute Self, These with stopped nostril and glove- With light unwaning on her eyes, to look

guarded hand

Far on-herself a glory to behold,
Knit in nice intertexture, so to twine The Angel of the vision! Then (last strain)
The illustrious brow of Scotch Nobility. Of duty, chosen laws controlling choice,

Action and joy !-An Orphic song indeed,
A song divine of high and passionate thoughts,
To their own music chaunted! O great Bard!

Ere yet that last strain dying awed the air,
TO A GENTLEMAN.

With stedfast eye I view'd thee in the choir

Of ever-enduring men. The truly great ON THE NIGHT AFTER HIS RECITA- Have all one age, and from one visible space TION OF A POEM ON THE GROWTH OF AN IN- Shed influence! They, both in power and act,

Are permanent, and time is not with them,

Save as it worketh for them, they in it. FRIEND of the Wise! and Teacher of the Nor less a sacred roll, than those of old,

Good!

And to be placed, as they, with gradual fame, Into my heart have I received that Lay Among the arehives of mankind, thy work More than historic, that prophetic Lay Makes audible a linked lay of truth, Wherein (high theme by thee first sung of truth profound a sweet continuous lay,

aright)

Not learnt, but native, her own natural Of the foundations and the building up

notes ! Of the Human Spirit thou hast dared to tell Ah! as I listend with a heart forlorn What may be told, to th’understanding mind The pulses of my being beat anew: Revealable; and what within the mind And even as life returns upon the drown'd, By vital breathings, like the secret soul Life's joy rekindling rous'd a throng of Of vernal growth, oft quickens in the heart

painsThoughts all too deep for words !—Theme Keen pangs of love, awakening as a babe

hard as high! Turbulent, with an outcry in the heart; of smiles spontaneous, and mysterious fears And Fears self-willd, that shunn’d the eye (The first-born they of Reason and twin

of Hope ; birth)

And Hope that scarce would know itself Of tides obedient to external force,

from Fear; And currents self-determined, as might seem, Sense of past youth, and manhood come in Or by some inner Power; of moments awful,

vain, Now in thy inner life, and now abroad, And genius given, and knowledge won in When power stream'd from thee, and thy

vain; soul received And all which I had cull'd in wood-walks The light reflected, as a light bestow'd

wild, of fancies fair, and milder hours of youth, And all which patient toil had reard, and all, Hyblean murmurs of poetic thought Commune with thee had open'd out - but Industrious in its joy, in vales and glens

flowers Native or outland, lakes and famous hills! Strewd on my corse, and borne upon my Or on the lonely high-road, when the stars

bier, Were rising; or by secret mountain-streams, In the same coffin, for the self-same grave! The guides and the companions of thy way!

That way no more! and ill besecms it me, of more than fancy, of the social sense Who came a welcomer in herald's guire, Distending wide, and man belov'd as man, Singing of glory, and futurity, Where France in all her towns lay vibrating To wander back on such unhealthful road, Even as a bark becalm'd beneath the burst Plucking the poisons of self-harm! And ill Of heaven's immediate thunder, when no Such intertwine beseems triumphal wreaths

cloud

Strew'd before thy advancing! Nor do thou, I visible, or shadow on the main. Sage Bard ! impair the memory of that hour For thou wert there, thine own brows gar- of thy communion with my nobler mind

landed,

By pity or grief, already felt too long ! Amid the tremor of a realm aglow, Nor let my words import more blame than Amid a mighty nation jubilant,

needs. When from the general heart of humankind The tumult rose and ceas'd: for peace is nigh Hope sprang forth like a full-born Deity! Where wisdom's voice has found a listening -Of that dear Hope afflicted and struck

heart. down,

Amid the howl of more than wintry storms, So summon'd homeward, thenceforth calm The Halcyon hears the voice of vernal Hours

and sure
Already on the wing !-Eve following eve,

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