'Tis hard on Bagshot Heath to try What tho' around thy drowsy head 90 O'er the tired inmates of the Coach Curst road! whose execrable way Was darkly shadow'd out in Milton's lay, (When the sad fiends thro' Hell's sulphureous roads Took the first survey of their new abodes; Or when the fall'n Archangel fierce Dared through the realms of Night to pierce, That lead'st th' oblivious soul astrayThough thou sphere-descended be→→ Hence away! Thou mightier Goddess, thou demand'st my lay, Born when earth was seized with Or as more sapient sages say, Compell'd their beings to enshrine With hideous rout were plunging And hog and devil mingling grunt and yell Seized on the ear with horrible obtrusion ; Then if aright old legendaries tell, Wert thou begot by Discord on Confusion! What though no name's sonorous power Sable clerk of Tiverton. 'Tis thou who pour'st the scritch-owl note ! Transported hear'st thy children all Scrape and blow and squeak and squall, And while old Otter's steeple rings, Clappest hoarse thy raven wings! Yet here her pensive ghost delights to stay; Oft pouring on the winds the broken lay And hark, I hear her—'twas the passing blast. I love to sit upon her tomb's dark grass, Then Memory backward rolls Time's shadowy tide; The tales of other days before me glide : With eager thought I seize them as they pass; For fair, tho' faint, the forms of Memory gleam, Like Heaven's bright beauteous bow reflected in the stream. ? 1790. ONCE could the Morn's first beams, the healthful breeze, To Death's dark house did grief-worn All Nature charm, and gay was every Anna haste, hour : But ah! not Music's self, nor fragrant bower Can glad the trembling sense of wan disease. Now that the frequent pangs my frame assail, Now that my sleepless eyes are sunk and dim, And seas of pain seem waving through each limb Ah what can all Life's gilded scenes avail?) I view the crowd, whom youth and health inspire, Hear the loud laugh, and catch the sportive lay, Then sigh and think-I too could laugh and play And gaily sport it on the Muse's lyre, Ere Tyrant Pain had chased away delight, Ere the wild pulse throbb'd anguish thro' the night! ? 1790. ON A LADY WEEPING LOVELY gems of radiance meek Tears which Friendship taught to flow, When spring-clouds shed their treasures soft Joyous tricks his plumes anew, ? 1790. Nodding their heads in all the pomp of woe : Wide scatter round each deadly weed, And let the melancholy dirge complain, (Whilst bats shall shriek and dogs shall howling run) His tea-kettle is spoilt and Coleridge is undone ! Your cheerful song, ye unseen crickets, cease! Let songs of grief your alter'd minds engage! For he who sang responsive to your lay, What time the joyous bubbles 'gan to play, The sooty swain has felt the fire's fierce rage ; Yes, he is gone, and all my woes increase; I heard the water hissing from the wound No more the Tea shall throw its fragrant steam around! O Goddess best beloved! Delightful Tea! With whom compar'd what yields the madd'ning Wine? Sweet power! that know'st to spread the calm delight, And the pure joy prolong to midmost night! Ah! must I all thy various charms resign? Enfolded close in grief thy form I see No more wilt thou expand thy willing arms, Receive the fervent Jove, and yield him all thy charms! How low the mighty sink by Fate opprest!- Perhaps, O Kettle! thou by scornful toe Rude urg'd t' ignoble place with plaintive din, May'st rust obscure midst heaps of vulgar tin; As if no joy had ever chear'd my My woes, my joys unshared! Ah! long breast When from thy spout the stream did arching flow, ere then On me thy icy dart, stern Death, be proved ; As if, inspir'd, thou ne'er hadst known Better to die, than live and not be loved! t' inspire All the warm raptures of poetic fire! But hark or do I fancy Georgian voice 'What tho' its form did wondrous charms disclose (Not such did Memnon's sister sable drest) Take these bright arms with royal face imprest, A better Kettle shall thy soul rejoice, And with Oblivion's wing o'erspread thy woes!' Thus Fairy Hope can soothe distress and toil; On empty Trivets she bids fancied Kettles boil! 1790. ON RECEIVING AN ACCOUNT THAT HIS ONLY SISTER'S DEATH WAS INEVITABLE THE tear which mourn'd a brother's fate scarce dry Pain after pain, and woe succeeding woe Is my heart destined for another blow? O my sweet sister! and must thou too die? Ah! how has Disappointment pour'd the tear O'er infant Hope destroy'd by early frost! How are ye gone, whom most my soul held dear! Scarce had I loved you ere I mourn'd you lost; Say, is this hollow eye, this heartless pain, Fated to rove thro' Life's wide cheerless plain Nor father, brother, sister meet its ken 1790. ON SEEING A YOUTH AFFECTIONATELY WELCOMED BY A SISTER I TOO a sister had! too cruel Death! How sad remembrance bids my bosom heave! Tranquil her soul, as sleeping Infant's breath; Meek were her manners as a vernal Eve. Knowledge, that frequent lifts the bloated mind, Gave her the treasure of a lowly breast, And Wit to venom'd Malice oft assign'd, Dwelt in her bosom in a Turtle's nest. Cease, busy Memory! cease to urge the dart; Nor on my soul her love to me impress! For oh I mourn in anguish-and my heart Feels the keen pang, th' unutterable distress. Yet wherefore grieve I that her sorrows cease, For Life was misery, and the Grave is Peace! ? 1792. A MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM If Pegasus will let thee only ride him, Spurning my clumsy efforts to o'erstride him, Some fresh expedient the Muse will try, And walk on stilts, although she cannot fly. TO THE REV. GEORGE COLERIDGE DEAR BROTHER, I have often been surprised that Mathematics, the quintessence of Truth, should have found admirers so few and II From the centre A. at the distance A. B. At the distance B. A. from B. the centre venture. (Third postulate see.) 20 Bid the straight lines a journeying go. C. A. C. B. those lines will show. so languid. Frequent consideration and And postulate the second. A. B. C. III Because the point A. is the centre 30 And because the point B. is the centre A. C. to A. B. and B. C. to B. A. Both extend the kind hand |