Chapter XI: Appendix: VI (7)

[157:1] First published in the _Cambridge Intelligencer_, December 17, 1796: included in the Quarto Edition of the _Ode on the Departing Year_, 1796, in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1828, 1829, and 1834. The lines were sent in a letter to John Thelwall, dated December 17, 1796 (_Letters of S. T. C._, 1895, i. 207, 208).

LINENOTES:

Title] Lines, &c., C. I.: To a Young Man who abandoned himself to a causeless and indolent melancholy MS. Letter, 1796.

[6-7] These lines were omitted in the MS. Letter and 4{o} 1796, but were replaced in Sibylline Leaves, 1817.

[8] Or seek some widow's MS. Letter, Dec. 17, 1796.

[11] eye] eyes MS. Letter, Dec. 9, 1796, C. I.

[15-16]

earth's common weal
A prey to the thron'd Murderess of Mankind.

MS. Letter, 1796.

All effortless thou leave Earth's commonweal
A prey to the thron'd Murderers of Mankind.

C. I., 1796, 4{o}.

TO A FRIEND[158:1]

[CHARLES LAMB]

WHO HAD DECLARED HIS INTENTION OF WRITING NO MORE POETRY

Dear Charles! whilst yet thou wert a babe, I ween
That Genius plung'd thee in that wizard fount
Hight Castalie: and (sureties of thy faith)
That Pity and Simplicity stood by,
And promis'd for thee, that thou shouldst renounce 5
The world's low cares and lying vanities,
Steadfast and rooted in the heavenly Muse,
And wash'd and sanctified to Poesy.
Yes--thou wert plung'd, but with forgetful hand
Held, as by Thetis erst her warrior son: 10
And with those recreant unbaptizéd heels
Thou'rt flying from thy bounden ministeries--
So sore it seems and burthensome a task
To weave unwithering flowers! But take thou heed:
For thou art vulnerable, wild-eyed boy, 15
And I have arrows[159:1] mystically dipped
Such as may stop thy speed. Is thy Burns dead?
And shall he die unwept, and sink to earth
'Without the meed of one melodious tear'?
Thy Burns, and Nature's own beloved bard, 20
Who to the 'Illustrious[159:2] of his native Land
So properly did look for patronage.'
Ghost of Mæcenas! hide thy blushing face!
They snatch'd him from the sickle and the plough--
To gauge ale-firkins.

Oh! for shame return! 25
On a bleak rock, midway the Aonian mount,
There stands a lone and melancholy tree,
Whose agéd branches to the midnight blast
Make solemn music: pluck its darkest bough,
Ere yet the unwholesome night-dew be exhaled, 30
And weeping wreath it round thy Poet's tomb.
Then in the outskirts, where pollutions grow,
Pick the rank henbane and the dusky flowers
Of night-shade, or its red and tempting fruit,
These with stopped nostril and glove-guarded hand 35
Knit in nice intertexture, so to twine,
The illustrious brow of Scotch Nobility!

1796.

FOOTNOTES:

[158:1] First published in a Bristol newspaper in aid of a subscription for the family of Robert Burns (the cutting is bound up with the copy of _Selection of Sonnets_ (_S. S._) in the Forster Library in the Victoria and Albert Museum): reprinted in the _Annual Anthology_, 1800: included in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834.

[159:1]

[Πολλά μοι ὑπ' ἀγκῶνος ὠκέα βέλη
Ἔνδον ἐντὶ φαρέτρας
Φωνᾶντα συνετοῖσιν.]
Pind. _Olymp._ ii. 149, κ. τ. λ.

[159:2] Verbatim from Burns's Dedication of his Poems to the Nobility and Gentry of the Caledonian Hunt.

LINENOTES:

[1] whilst] while An. Anth.

[3] of] for S. S., An. Anth.

[25] gauge] guard S. L., 1817 (For 'guard' read 'guage'. _Errata_, p. [xii]).

[33] stinking hensbane S. S., An. Anth.: hensbane S. L., 1817.

[35] Those with stopped nostrils MS. correction in printed slip of the newspaper. See P. and D. W., 1877, ii. 379.

[After 37] E S T E E S I 1796, An. Anth.

ODE TO THE DEPARTING YEAR[160:1]

Ἰοὺ ἰού, ὢ ὢ κακά.
Ὑπ' αὖ με δεινὸς ὀρθομαντείας πόνος
Στροβεῖ, ταράσσων φροιμίοις δυσφροιμίοις.

* * * * *

Τὸ μέλλον ἥξει. Καὶ σύ μ' τάχει παρὼν
Ἄγαν ἀληθόμαντιν οἰκτείρας ἐρεῖς.
Aeschyl. _Agam._ 1173-75; 1199-1200.

ARGUMENT

The Ode[160:2] commences with an address to the Divine Providence that regulates into one vast harmony all the events of time, however calamitous some of them may appear to mortals. The second Strophe calls on men to suspend their private joys and sorrows, and devote them for a while to the cause of human nature in general. The first Epode speaks of the Empress of Russia, who died of an apoplexy on the 17th of November 1796; having just concluded a subsidiary treaty with the Kings combined against France. The first and second Antistrophe describe the Image of the Departing Year, etc., as in a vision. The second Epode prophesies, in anguish of spirit, the downfall of this country.

I

Spirit who sweepest the wild Harp of Time!
It is most hard, with an untroubled ear
Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear!
Yet, mine eye fix'd on Heaven's unchanging clime
Long had I listen'd, free from mortal fear, 5
With inward stillness, and a bowéd mind;
When lo! its folds far waving on the wind,
I saw the train of the Departing Year!
Starting from my silent sadness
Then with no unholy madness, 10
Ere yet the enter'd cloud foreclos'd my sight,
I rais'd the impetuous song, and solemnis'd his flight.

II[161:1]

Hither, from the recent tomb,
From the prison's direr gloom,
From Distemper's midnight anguish; 15
And thence, where Poverty doth waste and languish;
Or where, his two bright torches blending,
Love illumines Manhood's maze;
Or where o'er cradled infants bending,
Hope has fix'd her wishful gaze; 20
Hither, in perplexéd dance,
Ye Woes! ye young-eyed Joys! advance!
By Time's wild harp, and by the hand
Whose indefatigable sweep
Raises its fateful strings from sleep, 25
I bid you haste, a mix'd tumultuous band!
From every private bower,
And each domestic hearth,
Haste for one solemn hour;
And with a loud and yet a louder voice, 30
O'er Nature struggling in portentous birth,
Weep and rejoice!
Still echoes the dread Name that o'er the earth[161:2]
Let slip the storm, and woke the brood of Hell:
And now advance in saintly Jubilee 35
Justice and Truth! They too have heard thy spell,
They too obey thy name, divinest Liberty!

III[162:1]

I mark'd Ambition in his war-array!
I heard the mailéd Monarch's troublous cry--
'Ah! wherefore does the Northern Conqueress stay![162:2] 40
Groans not her chariot on its onward way?'
Fly, mailéd Monarch, fly!
Stunn'd by Death's twice mortal mace,
No more on Murder's lurid face
The insatiate Hag shall gloat with drunken eye! 45
Manes of the unnumber'd slain!
Ye that gasp'd on Warsaw's plain!
Ye that erst at Ismail's tower,
When human ruin choked the streams,
Fell in Conquest's glutted hour, 50
Mid women's shrieks and infants' screams!
Spirits of the uncoffin'd slain,
Sudden blasts of triumph swelling,
Oft, at night, in misty train,
Rush around her narrow dwelling! 55
The exterminating Fiend is fled--
(Foul her life, and dark her doom)
Mighty armies of the dead
Dance, like death-fires, round her tomb!
Then with prophetic song relate, 60
Each some Tyrant-Murderer's fate!

IV[164:1]

Departing Year! 'twas on no earthly shore
My soul beheld thy Vision![164:2] Where alone,
Voiceless and stern, before the cloudy throne,
Aye Memory sits: thy robe inscrib'd with gore, 65
With many an unimaginable groan
Thou storied'st thy sad hours! Silence ensued,
Deep silence o'er the ethereal multitude,
Whose locks with wreaths, whose wreaths with glories shone.
Then, his eye wild ardours glancing, 70
From the choiréd gods advancing,
The Spirit of the Earth made reverence meet,
And stood up, beautiful, before the cloudy seat.

V

Throughout the blissful throng,
Hush'd were harp and song: 75
Till wheeling round the throne the Lampads seven,
(The mystic Words of Heaven)
Permissive signal make:
The fervent Spirit bow'd, then spread his wings and spake!
'Thou in stormy blackness throning 80
Love and uncreated Light,
By the Earth's unsolaced groaning,
Seize thy terrors, Arm of might!
By Peace with proffer'd insult scared,
Masked Hate and envying Scorn! 85
By years of Havoc yet unborn!
And Hunger's bosom to the frost-winds bared!
But chief by Afric's wrongs,
Strange, horrible, and foul!
By what deep guilt belongs 90
To the deaf Synod, 'full of gifts and lies!'[165:1]
By Wealth's insensate laugh! by Torture's howl!
Avenger, rise!
For ever shall the thankless Island scowl,
Her quiver full, and with unbroken bow? 95
Speak! from thy storm-black Heaven O speak aloud!
And on the darkling foe
Open thine eye of fire from some uncertain cloud!
O dart the flash! O rise and deal the blow!
The Past to thee, to thee the Future cries! 100
Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below!
Rise, God of Nature! rise.'

VI[166:1]

The voice had ceas'd, the Vision fled;
Yet still I gasp'd and reel'd with dread.
And ever, when the dream of night 105
Renews the phantom to my sight,
Cold sweat-drops gather on my limbs;
My ears throb hot; my eye-balls start;
My brain with horrid tumult swims;
Wild is the tempest of my heart; 110
And my thick and struggling breath
Imitates the toil of death!
No stranger agony confounds
The Soldier on the war-field spread,
When all foredone with toil and wounds, 115
Death-like he dozes among heaps of dead!
(The strife is o'er, the day-light fled,
And the night-wind clamours hoarse!
See! the starting wretch's head
Lies pillow'd on a brother's corse!) 120

VII

Not yet enslaved, not wholly vile,
O Albion! O my mother Isle!
Thy valleys, fair as Eden's bowers,
Glitter green with sunny showers;
Thy grassy uplands' gentle swells 125
Echo to the bleat of flocks;
(Those grassy hills, those glittering dells
Proudly ramparted with rocks)
And Ocean mid his uproar wild
Speaks safety to his Island-child! 130
Hence for many a fearless age
Has social Quiet lov'd thy shore;
Nor ever proud Invader's rage
Or sack'd thy towers, or stain'd thy fields with gore.

VIII

Abandon'd of Heaven![167:1] mad Avarice thy guide, 135
At cowardly distance, yet kindling with pride--
Mid thy herds and thy corn-fields secure thou hast stood,
And join'd the wild yelling of Famine and Blood!
The nations curse thee! They with eager wondering
Shall hear Destruction, like a vulture, scream! 140
Strange-eyed Destruction! who with many a dream
Of central fires through nether seas up-thundering
Soothes her fierce solitude; yet as she lies
By livid fount, or red volcanic stream,
If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes, 145
O Albion! thy predestin'd ruins rise,
The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap,
Muttering distemper'd triumph in her charméd sleep.

IX

Away, my soul, away!
In vain, in vain the Birds of warning sing-- 150
And hark! I hear the famish'd brood of prey
Flap their lank pennons on the groaning wind!
Away, my soul, away!
I unpartaking of the evil thing,
With daily prayer and daily toil 155
Soliciting for food my scanty soil,
Have wail'd my country with a loud Lament.
Now I recentre my immortal mind
In the deep Sabbath of meek self-content;
Cleans'd from the vaporous passions that bedim 160
God's Image, sister of the Seraphim.[168:1]

1796.

FOOTNOTES:

[160:1] First published in the _Cambridge Intelligencer_, December 31, 1796, and at the same time issued in a quarto pamphlet (the Preface is dated December 26): included in 1797, 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, 1829, and 1834. The Argument was first published in 1797. In 1803 the several sentences were printed as notes to the Strophes, Antistrophes, &c. For the Dedication vide Appendices.

This Ode was written on the 24th, 25th, and 26th days of December, 1796; and published separately on the last day of the year. _Footnote, 1797, 1808_: This Ode was composed and was first published on the last day of that year. _Footnote, S. L., 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834._

[160:2] The Ode commences with an address to the great BEING, or Divine Providence, who regulates into one vast Harmony all the Events of Time, however Calamitous some of them appear to mortals. _1803_.

[161:1] The second Strophe calls on men to suspend their private Joys and Sorrows, and to devote their passions for a while to the cause of human Nature in general. _1803_.

[161:2] The Name of Liberty, which at the commencement of the French Revolution was both the occasion and the pretext of unnumbered crimes and horrors. _1803_.

[162:1] The first Epode refers to the late Empress of Russia, who died of an apoplexy on the 17th of November, 1796, having just concluded a subsidiary treaty with the kings combined against France. _1803_. The Empress died just as she had engaged to furnish more effectual aid to the powers combined against France. _C. I._

[162:2] A subsidiary Treaty had been just concluded; and Russia was to have furnished more effectual aid than that of pious manifestoes to the Powers combined against France. I rejoice--not over the deceased Woman (I never dared figure the Russian Sovereign to my imagination under the dear and venerable Character of WOMAN--WOMAN, that complex term for Mother, Sister, Wife!) I rejoice, as at the disenshrining of a Daemon! I rejoice, as at the extinction of the evil Principle impersonated! This very day, six years ago, the massacre of Ismail was perpetrated. THIRTY THOUSAND HUMAN BEINGS, MEN, WOMEN, AND CHILDREN, murdered in cold blood, for no other crime than that their garrison had defended the place with perseverance and bravery. Why should I recal the poisoning of her husband, her iniquities in Poland, or her late unmotived attack on Persia, the desolating ambition of her public life, or the libidinous excesses of her private hours! I have no wish to qualify myself for the office of Historiographer to the King of Hell--! December, 23, 1796. _4{o}_.

[164:1] The first Antistrophe describes the Image of the Departing Year, as in a vision; and concludes with introducing the Planetary Angel of the Earth preparing to address the Supreme Being. _1803_.

[164:2] '_My soul beheld thy vision!_' i. e. Thy Image in a vision. _4{o}_.

[165:1] Gifts used in Scripture for corruption. _C. I._

[166:1] The poem concludes with prophecying in anguish of Spirit the Downfall of this Country. _1803_.

[167:1] '_Disclaim'd of Heaven!_'--The Poet from having considered the peculiar advantages, which this country has enjoyed, passes in rapid transition to the uses, which we have made of these advantages. We have been preserved by our insular situation, from suffering the actual horrors of War ourselves, and we have shewn our gratitude to Providence for this immunity by our eagerness to spread those horrors over nations less happily situated. In the midst of plenty and safety we have raised or joined the yell for famine and blood. Of the one hundred and seven last years, fifty have been years of War. Such wickedness cannot pass unpunished. We have been proud and confident in our alliances and our fleets--but God has prepared the canker-worm, and will smite the _gourds_ of our pride. 'Art thou better than populous No, that was situate among the rivers, that had the waters round about it, whose rampart was the Sea? Ethiopia and Egypt were her strength and it was infinite: Put and Lubim were her helpers. Yet she was carried away, she went into captivity: and they cast lots for her honourable men, and all her great men were bound in chains. Thou also shalt be drunken: all thy strongholds shall be like fig trees with the first ripe figs; if they be shaken, they shall even fall into the mouth of the eater. Thou hast multiplied thy merchants above the stars of heaven. Thy crowned are as the locusts; and thy captains as the great grasshoppers which camp in the hedges in the cool-day; but when the Sun ariseth they flee away, and their place is not known where they are. There is no healing of thy bruise; thy wound is grievous: all, that hear the report of thee, shall clap hands over thee: for upon whom hath not thy wickedness passed continually?' _Nahum_, chap. iii. _4{o}_, _1797_, _1803_.

[168:1] 'Let it not be forgotten during the perusal of this Ode that it was written many years before the abolition of the Slave Trade by the British Legislature, likewise before the invasion of Switzerland by the French Republic, which occasioned the Ode that follows [_France: an Ode._ First published as _The Recantation: an Ode_], a kind of Palinodia.' _MS. Note by S. T. C._

LINENOTES:

Title] Ode for the last day of the Year 1796, C. I.: Ode on the Departing Year 4{o}, 1797, 1803, S. L., 1817, 1828, 1829.

Motto] 3-5 All editions (4{o} to 1834) read ἐφημίοις for δυσφροιμίοις, and Ἄγαν γ' for Ἄγαν; and all before 1834 μην for μ' ἐν.

I] Strophe I C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[1] Spirit] Being 1803.

[4] unchanging] unchanged 4{o}.

[5] free] freed 4{o}.

[6] and a bowéd] and submitted 1803, S. L., 1817, 1828, 1829.

[7]

When lo! far onwards waving on the wind
I saw the skirts of the DEPARTING YEAR.

C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[11] Ere yet he pierc'd the cloud and mock'd my sight C. I. foreclos'd] forebade 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

II] Strophe II C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[15-16]

From Poverty's heart-wasting languish
From Distemper's midnight anguish

C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[22] Ye Sorrows, and ye Joys advance C. I. ye] and 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[25] Forbids its fateful strings to sleep C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[31] O'er the sore travail of the common Earth C. I., 4{o}.

[33-7]

Seiz'd in sore travail and portentous birth
(Her eyeballs flashing a pernicious glare)
Sick Nature struggles! Hark! her pangs increase!
Her groans are horrible! but O! most fair
The promis'd Twins she bears--Equality and Peace!

C. I., 4{o}.

[36] thy] the 1797, 1803.

III] Epode C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[40] Ah! whither C. I., 4{o}.

[41] on] o'er C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[43] 'twice mortal' mace C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[45] The insatiate] That tyrant C. I.] drunken] frenzied C. I.

[Between 51 and 52]

Whose shrieks, whose screams were vain to stir
Loud-laughing, red-eyed Massacre

C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[58] armies] Army C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[61] Tyrant-Murderer's] scepter'd Murderer's C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[After 61]

When shall sceptred SLAUGHTER cease?
A while he crouch'd, O Victor France!
Beneath the lightning of thy lance;
With treacherous dalliance courting PEACE--[163:A]
But soon upstarting from his coward trance
The boastful bloody Son of Pride betray'd
His ancient hatred of the dove-eyed Maid.
A cloud, O Freedom! cross'd thy orb of Light,
And sure he deem'd that orb was set in night:
For still does MADNESS roam on GUILT'S bleak dizzy height!

C. I.

When shall sceptred, &c.

* * * * *

With treacherous dalliance wooing Peace.
But soon up-springing from his dastard trance
The boastful bloody Son of Pride betray'd
His hatred of the blest and blessing Maid.
One cloud, O Freedom! cross'd thy orb of Light,
And sure he deem'd that orb was quench'd in night:
For still, &c.

4{o}.

[163:A] To juggle this easily-juggled people into better
humour with the supplies (and themselves, perhaps, affrighted
by the successes of the French) our Ministry sent an
Ambassador to Paris to sue for Peace. The supplies are
granted: and in the meantime the Archduke Charles turns the
scale of victory on the Rhine, and Buonaparte is checked
before Mantua. Straightways our courtly messenger is commanded
to _uncurl_ his lips, and propose to the lofty Republic to
_restore_ all _its_ conquests, and to suffer England to
_retain_ all _hers_ (at least all her _important_ ones), as
the only terms of Peace, and the ultimatum of the negotiation!

Θρασύνει γὰρ αἰσχρόμητις
Τάλαινα ΠΑΡΑΚΟΠΑ πρωτοπήμων--AESCHYL., _Ag._ 222-4.

The friends of Freedom in this country are idle. Some are
timid; some are selfish; and many the torpedo torch of
hopelessness has numbed into inactivity. We would fain hope
that (if the above account be accurate--it is only the French
account) this dreadful instance of infatuation in our Ministry
will rouse them to one effort more; and that at one and the
same time in our different great towns the people will be
called on to think solemnly, and declare their thoughts
fearlessly by every method which the _remnant_ of the
Constitution allows. _4{o}_.

IV] Antistrophe I. C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[62] no earthly] an awful C. I.

[65] thy . . . gore] there garmented with gore C. I., 4{o}, 1797.

[65-7]

Aye Memory sits: thy vest profan'd with gore.
Thou with an unimaginable groan
Gav'st reck'ning of thy Hours!

1803.

[68] ethereal] choired C. I.

[69] Whose purple locks with snow-white glories shone C. I., 4{o}: Whose wreathed locks with snow-white glories shone 1797, 1803.

[70] wild] strange C. I.

V] Antistrophe II. C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[74-9]

On every Harp on every Tongue
While the mute Enchantment hung:
Like Midnight from a thunder-cloud
Spake the sudden Spirit loud.

C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

The sudden Spirit cried aloud.

C. I.

Like Thunder from a Midnight Cloud
Spake the sudden Spirit loud

1803.

[83] Arm] God C. I.

[Between 83 and 84]

By Belgium's corse-impeded flood,[165:A]
By Vendee steaming [streaming C. I.] Brother's blood.

C. I., 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[165:A] The Rhine. _C. I._, _1797_, _1803_.

[85] And mask'd Hate C. I.

[87] By Hunger's bosom to the bleak winds bar'd C. I.

[89] Strange] Most C. I.

[90] By] And C. I.

[91] Synod] Senate 1797, 1803.

[94-102]

For ever shall the bloody island scowl?
For ever shall her vast and iron bow
Shoot Famine's evil arrows o'er the world,[165:B]
Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below;
Rise, God of Mercy, rise! why sleep thy bolts unhurl'd?

C. I.

For ever shall the bloody Island scowl?
For aye, unbroken shall her cruel Bow
Shoot Famine's arrows o'er thy ravaged World?
Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below--
Rise, God of Nature, rise, why sleep thy Bolts unhurl'd?

4{o}, 1797, 1803.

Rise God of Nature, rise! ah! why those bolts unhurl'd?

1797, 1803.

[165:B] 'In Europe the smoking villages of Flanders and the
putrified fields of La Vendée--from Africa the unnumbered
victims of a detestable Slave-Trade. In Asia the desolated
plains of Indostan, and the millions whom a rice-contracting
Governor caused to perish. In America the recent enormities of
the Scalp-merchants. The four quarters of the globe groan
beneath the intolerable iniquity of the nation.' See
'Addresses to the People', p. 46. _C. I._

[102] Here the Ode ends C. I.

VI] Epode II. 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[103] Vision] Phantoms 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[106] phantom] vision 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[107] sweat-drops] sweat-damps 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[113] stranger] uglier 4{o}.

[119] starting] startful 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[121] O doom'd to fall, enslav'd and vile 4{o}, 1797, 1803.

[133] proud Invader's] sworded Foeman's 4{o}, 1797: sworded Warrior's 1803.

[135-9]

Disclaim'd of Heaven! mad Avarice at thy side

4{o}, 1797.

At coward distance, yet with kindling pride--
Safe 'mid thy herds and cornfields thou hast stood,
And join'd the yell of Famine and of Blood.
All nations curse thee: and with eager wond'ring

4{o}, 1797.

[135] O abandon'd 1803.

[137-8]

Mid thy Corn-fields and Herds thou in plenty hast stood
And join'd the loud yellings of Famine and Blood.

1803.

[139] They] and 1797, 1803, S. L. 1817.

[142] fires] flames 4{o}.

[144]

Stretch'd on the marge of some fire-flashing fount
In the black Chamber of a sulphur'd mount.

4{o}.

[144] By livid fount, or roar of blazing stream 1797.

[146] Visions of thy predestin'd ruins rise 1803.

[151] famish'd] famin'd 4{o}.

[156] Soliciting my scant and blameless soil 4{o}.

[159-60]

In the long sabbath of high self-content.
Cleans'd from the fleshly passions that bedim

4{o}.

In the deep sabbath of blest self-content
Cleans'd from the fears and anguish that bedim

1797.

In the blest sabbath of high self-content
Cleans'd from bedimming Fear, and Anguish weak and blind.

1803.

[161] om. 1803.

THE RAVEN[169:1]

A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY TO HIS LITTLE BROTHERS AND SISTERS

Underneath an old oak tree
There was of swine a huge company,
That grunted as they crunched the mast:
For that was ripe, and fell full fast.
Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high: 5
One acorn they left, and no more might you spy.
Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly:
He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy!
Blacker was he than blackest jet,
Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet. 10
He picked up the acorn and buried it straight
By the side of a river both deep and great.
Where then did the Raven go?
He went high and low,
Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go. 15
Many Autumns, many Springs
Travelled[170:1] he with wandering wings:
Many Summers, many Winters--
I can't tell half his adventures.

At length he came back, and with him a She, 20
And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree.
They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
And young ones they had, and were happy enow.
But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise,
His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes. 25
He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke,
But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,
At length he brought down the poor Raven's own oak.
His young ones were killed; for they could not depart,
And their mother did die of a broken heart. 30

The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever;
And they floated it down on the course of the river.
They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip,
And with this tree and others they made a good ship.
The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land 35
Such a storm there did rise as no ship could withstand.
It bulged on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast:
Round and round flew the raven, and cawed to the blast.
He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls--
See! see! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls! 40
Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet,
And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet,
And he thank'd him again and again for this treat:
They had taken his all, and REVENGE IT WAS SWEET!

1797.

FOOTNOTES:

[169:1] First published in the _Morning Post_, March 10, 1798 (with an introductory letter, _vide infra_): included (with the letter, and except line 15 the same text) in the _Annual Anthology_, 1800, in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817 (pp. vi-viii), 1828, 1829, and 1834.

[To the editor of the _Morning Post_.]

'Sir,--I am not absolutely certain that the following Poem was
written by EDMUND SPENSER, and found by an Angler buried in a
fishing-box:--

'Under the foot of Mole, that mountain hoar,
Mid the green alders, by the Mulla's shore.'

But a learned Antiquarian of my acquaintance has given it as
his opinion that it resembles SPENSER'S minor Poems as nearly
as Vortigern and Rowena the Tragedies of WILLIAM
SHAKESPEARE.--The Poem must be read in _recitative_, in the
same manner as the Aegloga Secunda of the Shepherd's Calendar.

CUDDY.' _M. P._, _An. Anth._

[170:1] Seventeen or eighteen years ago an artist of some celebrity was so pleased with this doggerel that he amused himself with the thought of making a Child's Picture Book of it; but he could not hit on a picture for these four lines. I suggested a _Round-about_ with four seats, and the four seasons, as Children, with Time for the shew-man. Footnote, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817.

LINENOTES:

Title] 'A Christmas Tale,' &c., was first prefixed in S. L. 1817. The letter introduced the poem in the Morning Post. In the Annual Anthology the 'Letter' is headed 'The Raven'. Lamb in a letter to Coleridge, dated Feb. 5, 1797, alludes to this poem as 'Your _Dream_'.

[1-8]

Under the arms of a goodly oak-tree
There was of Swine a large company.
They were making a rude _repast_,
Grunting as they crunch'd the _mast_.
Then they trotted away: for the wind blew high-- 5
One acorn they left, ne more mote you spy,
Next came a Raven, who lik'd not such folly:
He belong'd, I believe, to the witch MELANCHOLY!

M. P., An. Anth., and (with variants given below) MS. S. T. C.

[1] Beneath a goodly old oak tree MS. S. T. C.: an old] a huge S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[6] ne more] and no more MS. S. T. C.

[7] Next] But soon MS. S. T. C.

[8] belonged it was said S. L. 1817.

[10] in the rain; his feathers were wet M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[15] O'er hill, o'er dale M. P.

[17] with] on MS. S. T. C.

[20] came back] return'd M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[21] to a tall] a large M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[22] topmost] uppermost MS. S. T. C.

[23] happy] jolly M. P., An. Anth.

[26] and _he_ nothing spoke M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[28] At length] Wel-a-day MS. S. T. C.: At last M. P., An. Anth.

[30] And his wife she did die M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[31] The branches from off it M. P., An. Anth.: The branches from off this the MS. S. T. C.

[32] And floated MS. S. T. C.

[33] They saw'd it to planks, and its rind M. P., An. Anth.: They saw'd it to planks and its bark MS. S. T. C.

[34] they built up a ship M. P., An. Anth.

[36] Such . . . ship] A tempest arose which no ship M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[38] The auld raven flew round and round M. P., An. Anth.: The old raven flew round and round MS. S. T. C., S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[39] He heard the sea-shriek of their perishing souls M. P., An. Anth., MS. S. T. C.

[40-4]

They be sunk! O'er the topmast the mad water rolls
The Raven was glad that such fate they did _meet_.
They had taken his all and REVENGE WAS SWEET.

M. P., An. Anth.

[40] See she sinks MS. S. T. C.

[41] Very glad was the Raven, this fate they did meet MS. S. T. C.

[42-3] om. MS. S. T. C.

[44] Revenge was sweet. An. Anth., MS. S. T. C., S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.

After l. 44, two lines were added in Sibylline Leaves, 1817:--

We must not think so; but forget and forgive,
And what Heaven gives life to, we'll still let it live.[171:A]

[171:A] Added thro' cowardly fear of the Goody! What a Hollow,
where the Heart of Faith ought to be, does it not betray? this
alarm concerning Christian morality, that will not permit even
a Raven to be a Raven, nor a Fox a Fox, but demands
conventicular justice to be inflicted on their unchristian
conduct, or at least an antidote to be annexed. _MS. Note by
S. T. C._

TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN AT THE THEATRE[171:1]

Maiden, that with sullen brow
Sitt'st behind those virgins gay,
Like a scorch'd and mildew'd bough,
Leafless 'mid the blooms of May!

Him who lur'd thee and forsook, 5
Oft I watch'd with angry gaze,
Fearful saw his pleading look,
Anxious heard his fervid phrase.

Soft the glances of the Youth,
Soft his speech, and soft his sigh; 10
But no sound like simple Truth,
But no _true_ love in his eye.

Loathing thy polluted lot,
Hie thee, Maiden, hie thee hence!
Seek thy weeping Mother's cot, 15
With a wiser innocence.

Thou hast known deceit and folly,
Thou hast _felt_ that Vice is woe:
With a musing melancholy
Inly arm'd, go, Maiden! go. 20

Mother sage of Self-dominion,
Firm thy steps, O Melancholy!
The strongest plume in Wisdom's pinion
Is the memory of past folly.

Mute the sky-lark and forlorn, 25
While she moults the firstling plumes,
That had skimm'd the tender corn,
Or the beanfield's odorous blooms.

Soon with renovated wing
Shall she dare a loftier flight, 30
Upward to the Day-Star spring,
And embathe in heavenly light.

1797.

FOOTNOTES:

[171:1] First published in the _Morning Post_, December 7, 1797: included in the _Annual Anthology_, 1800, in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1828, 1829, and 1834. For MS. sent to Cottle, see _E. R._ 1834, i. 213, 214.

LINENOTES:

Title] To an Unfortunate Woman in the Back Seats of the Boxes at the Theatre M. P.: To an Unfortunate Young Woman whom I had known in the days of her Innocence MS. sent to Cottle, E. R. i. 213: To an Unfortunate Woman whom the Author knew in the days of her Innocence. Composed at the Theatre An. Anth. 1800.

[1] Maiden] Sufferer An. Anth.

[In place of 5-12]

Inly gnawing, thy distresses
Mock those starts of wanton glee;
And thy inmost soul confesses
Chaste Affection's [affliction's An. Anth.] majesty.

MS. Cottle, An. Anth.

[14] Maiden] Sufferer An. Anth.

[22] Firm are thy steps M. P.

[25] sky-lark] Lavrac MS. Cottle, An. Anth.

[26] the] those MS. Cottle, M. P., An. Anth.

[27] Which late had M. P.

[31] Upwards to the day star sing MS. Cottle, An. Anth.

Stanzas ii, iii, v, vi are not in MS. Cottle nor in the Annual Anthology.

TO AN UNFORTUNATE WOMAN[172:1]

WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD KNOWN IN THE DAYS OF HER INNOCENCE

Myrtle-leaf that, ill besped,
Pinest in the gladsome ray,
Soil'd beneath the common tread
Far from thy protecting spray!

When the Partridge o'er the sheaf 5
Whirr'd along the yellow vale,
Sad I saw thee, heedless leaf!
Love the dalliance of the gale.

Lightly didst thou, foolish thing!
Heave and flutter to his sighs, 10
While the flatterer, on his wing,
Woo'd and whisper'd thee to rise.

Gaily from thy mother-stalk
Wert thou danc'd and wafted high--
Soon on this unshelter'd walk 15
Flung to fade, to rot and die.

1797.

FOOTNOTES:

[172:1] First published in 1797: included in 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1828, 1829, and 1834.

LINENOTES:

Title] Allegorical Lines on the Same Subject MS. Cottle.

[5]

When the scythes-man o'er his sheaf
Caroll'd in the yellow vale

MS. Cottle.

When the rustic o'er his sheaf
Caroll'd in, &c.

1797.

[_Note._ The text of Stanza ii dates from 1803.]

[9] foolish] poor fond MS. Cottle.

[15] Soon upon this sheltered walk, MS. Cottle, Second Version.

[16] to fade, and rot. MS. Cottle.

TO THE REV. GEORGE COLERIDGE[173:1]

OF OTTERY ST. MARY, DEVON

_With some Poems_

Notus in fratres animi paterni.
HOR. _Carm._ lib. II. 2.

A blesséd lot hath he, who having passed
His youth and early manhood in the stir
And turmoil of the world, retreats at length,
With cares that move, not agitate the heart,
To the same dwelling where his father dwelt; 5
And haply views his tottering little ones
Embrace those agéd knees and climb that lap,
On which first kneeling his own infancy
Lisp'd its brief prayer. Such, O my earliest Friend!
Thy lot, and such thy brothers too enjoy. 10
At distance did ye climb Life's upland road,
Yet cheer'd and cheering: now fraternal love
Hath drawn you to one centre. Be your days
Holy, and blest and blessing may ye live!

To me the Eternal Wisdom hath dispens'd 15
A different fortune and more different mind--
Me from the spot where first I sprang to light
Too soon transplanted, ere my soul had fix'd
Its first domestic loves; and hence through life
Chasing chance-started friendships. A brief while 20
Some have preserv'd me from life's pelting ills;
But, like a tree with leaves of feeble stem,
If the clouds lasted, and a sudden breeze
Ruffled the boughs, they on my head at once
Dropped the collected shower; and some most false, 25
False and fair-foliag'd as the Manchineel,
Have tempted me to slumber in their shade
E'en mid the storm; then breathing subtlest damps,
Mix'd their own venom with the rain from Heaven,
That I woke poison'd! But, all praise to Him 30
Who gives us all things, more have yielded me
Permanent shelter; and beside one Friend,
Beneath the impervious covert of one oak,
I've rais'd a lowly shed, and know the names
Of Husband and of Father; not unhearing 35
Of that divine and nightly-whispering Voice,
Which from my childhood to maturer years
Spake to me of predestinated wreaths,
Bright with no fading colours!

Yet at times
My soul is sad, that I have roam'd through life 40
Still most a stranger, most with naked heart
At mine own home and birth-place: chiefly then,
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; 45
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,
That Being knows, how I have lov'd thee ever, 50
Lov'd as a brother, as a son rever'd thee!
Oh! 'tis to me an ever new delight,
To talk of thee and thine: or when the blast
Of the shrill winter, rattling our rude sash,
Endears the cleanly hearth and social bowl; 55
Or when, as now, on some delicious eve,
We in our sweet sequester'd orchard-plot
Sit on the tree crook'd earth-ward; whose old boughs,
That hang above us in an arborous roof,
Stirr'd by the faint gale of departing May, 60
Send their loose blossoms slanting o'er our heads!

Nor dost not thou sometimes recall those hours,
When with the joy of hope thou gavest thine ear
To my wild firstling-lays. Since then my song
Hath sounded deeper notes, such as beseem 65
Or that sad wisdom folly leaves behind,
Or such as, tuned to these tumultuous times,
Cope with the tempest's swell!

Those various strains,
Which I have fram'd in many a various mood,
Accept, my Brother! and (for some perchance 70
Will strike discordant on thy milder mind)
If aught of error or intemperate truth
Should meet thine ear, think thou that riper Age
Will calm it down, and let thy love forgive it!

NETHER-STOWEY, SOMERSET, _May_ 26, 1797.

FOOTNOTES:

[173:1] First published as the Dedication to the Poems of 1797: included in 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. In a copy of the _Poems_ of 1797, formerly in the possession of the late Mr. Frederick Locker-Lampson, Coleridge affixed the following note to the Dedication--'N. B. If this volume should ever be delivered according to its direction, _i. e._ to Posterity, let it be known that the Reverend George Coleridge was displeased and thought his character endangered by the Dedication.'--S. T. Coleridge. _Note_ to _P. and D. W._, 1877-80, i. 163.

LINENOTES:

_To the Rev. George Coleridge_--Motto] lib. I. 2 S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834.

[10] Thine and thy Brothers' favourable lot. 1803.

[23] and] or 1797, 1803.

[30] That I woke prison'd! But (the praise be His 1803.

[33-4]

I as beneath the covert of an oak
Have rais'd

1803.

[35] not] nor 1797, 1803, S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[47-9]

Rebuk'd each fault, and wept o'er all my woes.
Who counts the beatings of the lonely heart

1797, 1803.

[Between 52-3] My eager eye glist'ning with memry's tear 1797.

[62] thou] _thou_ all editions to 1834.

[Between 66-7] Or the high raptures of prophetic Faith 1797, 1803.

[68] strains] songs 1797, 1803.

ON THE CHRISTENING OF A FRIEND'S CHILD[176:1]

This day among the faithful plac'd
And fed with fontal manna,
O with maternal title grac'd,
Dear Anna's dearest Anna!

While others wish thee wise and fair, 5
A maid of spotless fame,
I'll breathe this more compendious prayer--
May'st thou deserve thy name!

Thy mother's name, a potent spell,
That bids the Virtues hie 10
From mystic grove and living cell,
Confess'd to Fancy's eye;

Meek Quietness without offence;
Content in homespun kirtle;
True Love; and True Love's Innocence, 15
White Blossom of the Myrtle!

Associates of thy name, sweet Child!
These Virtues may'st thou win;
With face as eloquently mild
To say, they lodge within. 20

So, when her tale of days all flown,
Thy mother shall be miss'd here;
When Heaven at length shall claim its own
And Angels snatch their Sister;

Some hoary-headed friend, perchance, 25
May gaze with stifled breath;
And oft, in momentary trance,
Forget the waste of death.

Even thus a lovely rose I've view'd
In summer-swelling pride; 30
Nor mark'd the bud, that green and rude
Peep'd at the rose's side.

It chanc'd I pass'd again that way
In Autumn's latest hour,
And wond'ring saw the selfsame spray 35
Rich with the selfsame flower.

Ah fond deceit! the rude green bud
Alike in shape, place, name,
Had bloom'd where bloom'd its parent stud,
Another and the same! 40

1797.

FOOTNOTES:

[176:1] First published in the Supplement to _Poems_, 1797: reprinted in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. 48, 49: included in 1844 and 1852. The lines were addressed to Anna Cruickshank, the wife of John Cruickshank, who was a neighbour of Coleridge at Nether-Stowey.

TRANSLATION[177:1]

OF A LATIN INSCRIPTION BY THE REV. W. L. BOWLES IN NETHER-STOWEY CHURCH

Depart in joy from this world's noise and strife
To the deep quiet of celestial life!
Depart!--Affection's self reproves the tear
Which falls, O honour'd Parent! on thy bier;--
Yet Nature will be heard, the heart will swell, 5
And the voice tremble with a last Farewell!

1797.

[_The Tablet is erected to the Memory of Richard Camplin, who died Jan. 20, 1792._

'Lætus abi! mundi strepitu curisque remotus;
Lætus abi! cæli quâ vocat alma Quies.
Ipsa fides loquitur lacrymamque incusat inanem,
Quæ cadit in vestros, care Pater, Cineres.
Heu! tantum liceat meritos hos solvere Ritus, 5
Naturæ et tremulâ dicere Voce, Vale!']

FOOTNOTES:

[177:1] First published in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. 50. First collected in _P. and D. W._, 1877, ii. 365.

LINENOTES:

[6] Et longum tremulâ L. R. 1836.

THIS LIME-TREE BOWER MY PRISON[178:1]

[ADDRESSED TO CHARLES LAMB, OF THE INDIA HOUSE, LONDON]

In the June of 1797 some long-expected friends paid a visit to the author's cottage; and on the morning of their arrival, he met with an accident, which disabled him from walking during the whole time of their stay. One evening, when they had left him for a few hours, he composed the following lines in the garden-bower.[178:2]

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
Most sweet to my remembrance even when age
Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile, 5
Friends, whom I never more may meet again,
On springy[179:1] heath, along the hill-top edge,
Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance,
To that still roaring dell, of which I told;
The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, 10
And only speckled by the mid-day sun;
Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock
Flings arching like a bridge;--that branchless ash,
Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves
Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still, 15
Fann'd by the water-fall! and there my friends
Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds,[179:2]
That all at once (a most fantastic sight!)
Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge
Of the blue clay-stone.

Now, my friends emerge 20
Beneath the wide wide Heaven--and view again
The many-steepled tract magnificent
Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea,
With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up
The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles 25
Of purple shadow! Yes! they wander on
In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad,
My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined
And hunger'd after Nature, many a year,
In the great City pent, winning thy way 30
With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain
And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink
Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun!
Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb,
Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! 35
Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves!
And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend
Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood,
Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round
On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem 40
Less gross than bodily; and of such hues
As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes
Spirits perceive his presence.

A delight
Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad
As I myself were there! Nor in this bower, 45
This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd
Much that has sooth'd me. Pale beneath the blaze
Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd
Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see
The shadow of the leaf and stem above 50
Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree
Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay
Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps
Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass
Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue 55
Through the late twilight: and though now the bat
Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters,
Yet still the solitary humble-bee
Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know
That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure; 60
No plot so narrow, be but Nature there,
No waste so vacant, but may well employ
Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart
Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes
'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good, 65
That we may lift the soul, and contemplate
With lively joy the joys we cannot share.
My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook
Beat its straight path along the dusky air
Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing 70
(Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light)
Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory,
While thou stood'st gazing; or, when all was still,
Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm[181:1]
For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom 75
No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.

1797.

FOOTNOTES:

[178:1] First published in the _Annual Anthology_, 1800, reprinted in Mylius' _Poetical Classbook_, 1810: included in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, in 1828, 1829, and 1834. The poem was sent in a letter to Southey, July 9, 1797, and in a letter to C. Lloyd, [July, 1797]. See _Letters of S. T. C._, 1895, i. 225-7 and _P. W._, 1893, p. 591.

[178:2] 'Ch. and Mary Lamb--dear to my heart, yea, as it were my Heart.--S. T. C. Æt. 63; 1834--1797-1834 = 37 years!' (Marginal note written by S. T. Coleridge over against the introductory note to 'This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison', in a copy of the _Poetical Works_, 1834.)

[179:1] 'Elastic, I mean.' _MS. Letter to Southey._

[179:2] The _Asplenium Scolopendrium_, called in some countries the Adder's Tongue, in others the Hart's Tongue, but Withering gives the Adder's Tongue as the trivial name of the _Ophioglossum_ only.

[181:1] Some months after I had written this line, it gave me pleasure to find [to observe _An. Anth._, _S. L. 1828_] that Bartram had observed the same circumstance of the Savanna Crane. 'When these Birds move their wings in flight, their strokes are slow, moderate and regular; and even when at a considerable distance or high above us, we plainly hear the quill-feathers: their shafts and webs upon one another creek as the joints or working of a vessel in a tempestuous sea.'

LINENOTES:

Title] This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison. A Poem Addressed, &c. An. Anth.: the words 'Addressed to', &c., are omitted in Sibylline Leaves, 1828, 1829, and 1834.

[1-28]

Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,
Lam'd by the scathe of fire, lonely and faint,
This lime-tree bower my prison! They, meantime,
My Friends, whom I may never meet again,
On springy heath, along the hill-top edge 5
Wander delighted, and look down, perchance,
On that same rifted dell, where many an ash
Twists its wild limbs beside the ferny rock
Whose plumy[178:A] ferns forever nod and drip
Spray'd by the waterfall. But chiefly thou 10
My gentle-hearted _Charles_! thou who had pin'd

MS. Letter to Southey, July 17, 1797.

[178:A] The ferns that grow in moist places grow five or six
together, and form a complete 'Prince of Wales's
Feather'--that is plumy. _Letter to Southey._

[1-28]

Well they are gone, and here I must remain
This lime-tree, . . . hill-top edge
Delighted wander, and look down, perchance,
On that same rifted dell, where the wet ash
Twists its wild limbs above, . . . who hast pin'd

MS. Letter to Lloyd [July, 1797].

[3] Such beauties and such feelings, as had been An. Anth., S. L.

[4] my remembrance] to have remembered An. Anth.

[6] My Friends, whom I may never meet again An. Anth., S. L.

[20] blue] dim An. Anth.

[22] tract] track An. Anth., S. L. 1828.

[24] bark, perhaps, which lightly touches An. Anth.

[28] hast] had'st An. Anth.

[31] patient] bowed MS. Letter to Southey.

[34] beams] heaven MS. Letter to Southey.

[38 foll.]

Struck with joy's deepest calm, and gazing round
On the wide view[180:A] may gaze till all doth seem
Less gross than bodily; a living thing
That acts upon the mind, and with such hues
As clothe th' Almighty Spirit, when he makes.

MS. Letter to Southey.

[180:A] You remember I am a _Berkleyan_. _Note to Letter._

[40] wide] wild S. L.

[40] (for _wild_ r. _wide_; and the two following lines thus:

Less gross than bodily; and of such hues
As veil the Almighty Spirit

_Errata_, S. L., p. [xii].)

As veil the Almighty Spirit, when he makes

1828.

[41 foll.]

Less gross than bodily, a living thing
Which acts upon the mind and with such hues
As cloathe the Almighty Spirit, when he makes

An. Anth., S. L.

[45 foll.]

As I myself were there! Nor in the bower
Want I sweet sounds or pleasing shapes. I watch'd
The sunshine of each broad transparent leaf
Broke by the shadows of the leaf or stem
Which hung above it: and that walnut tree

MS. Letter to Southey.

[55] branches] foliage MS. Letter to Southey.

[56] and though the rapid bat MS. Letter to Southey.

[60-64] om. in MS. Letter to Lloyd.

[61-2] No scene so narrow but may well employ MS. Letter to Southey, An. Anth.

[68] My Sister and my Friends MS. Letter to Southey: My Sara and my Friends MS. Letter to Lloyd.

[70] Homewards] Homeward MS. Letter to Lloyd.

[71] om. in MS. Letter to Lloyd. in the light An. Anth., S. L. (omit _the_ before _light_. _Errata_, S. L., [p. xii]).

[72] Cross'd like a speck the blaze of setting day MS. Letter to Southey: Had cross'd the mighty orb's dilated blase. MS. Letter to Lloyd.

[73] While ye [you MS. Letter to Lloyd] stood MS. Letter to Southey.

[74] thy head] your heads MSS. Letters to Southey and Lloyd.

[75] For you my Sister and my Friends MS. Letter to Southey: For you my Sara and my Friends MS. Letter to Lloyd.

THE FOSTER-MOTHER'S TALE[182:1]

A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT

[From _Osorio_, Act IV. The title and text are here printed
from _Lyrical Ballads_, 1798.]

_Foster-Mother._ I never saw the man whom you describe.

_Maria._ 'Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly
As mine and Albert's common Foster-mother.

_Foster-Mother._ Now blessings on the man, whoe'er he be,
That joined your names with mine! O my sweet lady, 5
As often as I think of those dear times
When you two little ones would stand at eve
On each side of my chair, and make me learn
All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk
In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you-- 10
'Tis more like heaven to come than what _has_ been!

_Maria._ O my dear Mother! this strange man has left me
Troubled with wilder fancies, than the moon
Breeds in the love-sick maid who gazes at it,
Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye 15
She gazes idly!--But that entrance, Mother!

_Foster-Mother._ Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale!

_Maria._ No one.