Aghast he scours before the tempest's sweep,
And sad recalls the sunny hour of sleep:-
So toss'd by storms along life's wildering way,
Mine eye reverted views that cloudless day,
When by my native brook I wont to rove,
While Hope with kisses nursed the infant Love.

Dear native brook!1 like peace, so placidly
Smoothing through fertile fields thy current

meek!

Dear native brook! where first young Poesy Stared wildly eager in her noontide dream! Where blameless pleasures dimple Quiet's cheek,

As water-lilies ripple thy slow stream!

Dear native haunts! where Virtue still is gay, Where Friendship's fix'd star sheds a mellow'd

ray,

Where Love a crown of thornless roses wears,
Where soften'd Sorrow smiles within her tears;
And Memory, with a vestal's chaste employ,
Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of joy!
No more your sky-larks melting from the sight
Shall thrill the attuned heart-string with de-
light-

No more shall deck your pensive pleasures sweet

1 Dear native brook.] Compare the Sonnet to The River Otter, in "Sibylline Leaves."

2 Smiles, &c.] The same ideas, almost the same words, occur in the little poem, Domestic Peace; where

"Sorrow smiling through her tears

is certainly a great improvement upon the line in this place.

With wreaths of sober hue my evening seat.
Yet dear to fancy's eye your varied scene
Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook be-
tween!

Yet sweet to fancy's ear the warbled song,
That soars on morning's wing your vales

among.

Scenes of my hope! the aching eye ye leave, Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of eve!

Tearful, and saddening with the sadden'd blaze, Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze :

Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend, Till chill and damp the moonless night descend.

THE SIGH.

ZHEN Youth his faery reign began,
Ere sorrow had proclaim'd me man;
While Peace the present hour be-
guiled,

And all the lovely prospect smiled;
Then Mary! 'mid my lightsome glee
I heaved the painless Sigh for thee.

And when, along the waves of woe,
My harass'd heart was doom'd to know
The frantic burst of outrage keen,
And the slow pang that gnaws unseen;

Then, shipwreck'd on life's stormy sea,
I heaved an anguish'd Sigh for thee!

But soon Reflection's power imprest
A stiller sadness on my breast;
And sickly Hope with waning eye
Was well content to droop and die:
I yielded to the stern decree,
Yet heaved a languid Sigh for thee!

And though in distant climes to roam,1
A wanderer from my native home,
I fain would soothe the sense of care,
And lull to sleep the joys that were,
Thy image may not banish'd be―
Still, Mary! still I sigh for thee.

June, 1794.

1

1 To roam.] As in the Monody on the Death of Chatterton,

"Where Susquehana pours his untamed stream."

2 Still.] Compare "Absence," and for notes of Mary Evans, with whom Coleridge was in love at Christ's Hospital, see “Introduction," § 1. In June, 1794, he accidentally saw Mary Evans, from whom he had long been parted; she passed the window of an inn at Wrexham, where he was staying.

LINES

WRITTEN AT THE KING'S ARMS, ROSS, FORMERLY THE HOUSE OF THE MAN OF ROSS.*

R

ICHER than miser o'er his countless

hoards,

Nobler than kings, or king-polluted lords,

Here dwelt the Man of Ross! O traveller,

hear!

Departed merit claims a reverent tear.

Friend' to the friendless, to the sick man health, With generous joy he view'd his modest wealth; He heard the widow's heaven-breathed prayer of praise,

He mark'd the shelter'd orphan's tearful gaze,2 Or where the sorrow-shrivell'd captive lay, Pour'd the bright blaze of freedom's noon-tide ray.

* Written during a pedestrian tour in Wales, in July, 1794. "The King's Arms," as Coleridge observes in a letter, July 22, 1794-was once the house of Mr. Kyle, the celebrated man of Ross."

66

1 Friend, &c.] See Monody on the Death of Chatterton. 2 Gaze.] Cottle was instructed to add here,—

"And o'er the portion'd maiden's snowy cheek
Bade bridal love suffuse its blushes meek ;"

and to alter the next line but two to

"If near this roof thy wine-cheer'd moments pass."

The alterations "came too late for admission."

Beneath this roof if thy cheer'd moments pass,
Fill to the good man's name one grateful glass:
To higher zest shall memory wake thy soul,
And virtue mingle in the ennobled bowl.
But if, like me, through life's distressful scene
Lonely and sad thy pilgrimage hath been;
And if, thy breast with heart-sick anguish
fraught,

Thou journeyest onward tempest-toss'd in thought;

1

Here cheat thy cares! in generous visions melt, And dream of goodness thou hast never felt!

LINES

TO A BEAUTIFUL SPRING IN A VILLAGE.

NCE more, sweet Stream! with slow foot wandering near,

I bless thy milky waters cold and clear.

Escaped the flashing of the noontide hours, With one fresh garland of Pierian flowers (Ere from thy zephyr-haunted brink I turn) My languid hand shall wreathe thy mossy urn. For not through pathless grove with murmur rude

Thou soothest the sad wood-nymph, Solitude;

Thought.] Coleridge, when he wrote these lines, had been discharged only a few weeks from the 15th Light Dragoons.