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Feeble and dim! Stranger, these im- But what is all, to his delight, pulses
Who having long been doomed to Blame thou not lightly; nor will I pro
Throws off the bundle from his back, With hasty judgment or injurious doubt, Before the door of his own home? That man's sublimer spirit, who can feel That God is everywhere! the God who
Home-sickness is a wasting pang ; framed
This feel I hourly more and more : Mankind to be one mighty family,
There's healing only in thy wings, Himself our Father, and the World our
Thou breeze that play'st on Albion's Home.
shore ! May 17, 1799.
May 26, 1799.
SOMETHING CHILDISH, BUT
WRITTEN IN GERMANY
To you I'd fly, my dear!
And I stay here.
The world is all one's own.
All, all alone.
For though my sleep be gone,
And still dreams on.
A sweet and playful tenderness doth
linger, Touching my heart as with an infant's
My mouth half open, like a witless man,
I saw our couch, I saw our quiet room,
feelingI know not what—but had the same been
WRITTEN IN GERMANY
'Tis sweet to him who all the week Through city-crowds must push his
way, To stroll alone through fields and woods,
And hallow thus the Sabbath-day.
Sincere, affectionate and gay,
To celebrate one's marriage-day.
Upon a sleeping mother's lips, I guess
babe did seem,
He saw a cottage with a double coach
house, A cottage of gentility ! And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin
Is pride that apes humility.
And lo! I seem’d to see a woman's form-. Thine, Sara, thine ? O joy, if thine it
were ! I gazed with stified breath, and fear'd to
stir it, No deeper trance e'er wrapt a yearning
spirit ! And now, when I seem'd sure thy face to
see, Thy own dear self in our own quiet
home; There came an elfish laugh, and waken'd
me : 'Twas Frederic, who behind my chair
had clomb, And with his bright eyes at my face was
peeping. I bless'd him, tried to laugh, and fell a-weeping !
THE DEVIL'S THOUGHTS
FROM his brimstone bed at break of day
Over the hill and over the dale,
his long tail
were blue, And there was a hole where the tail came
through. He saw a LAWYER killing a Viper On a dung heap beside his stable, And the Devil smiled, for it put him in
mind Of Cain and his brother, Abel. A POTHECARY on a white horse
Rode by on his vocations, And the Devil thought of his old Friend
DEATH in the Revelations.
So clomb this first grand thief-
Par. Lost, iv. The allegory here is so apt, that in a catalogue of various readings obtained from collating the MSS. one might expect to find it noted, that for LIFE' Cod. quid. habent, 'TRADE.' Though indeed THE TRADE, i.e. the bibliopolic, so called κατ' εξόχην, may be regarded as LIFE sensu eminentiori; a suggestion, which I owe to a young retailer in the hosiery line, who on hearing a description of the net profits, dinner parties, country houses, etc., of the trade, exclaimed, 'Ay! that's what I call Life now !’--This 'Life, our Death,' is thus happily contrasted with the fruits of Authorship.-Sic nos non nobis mellificamus Apes.
Of this poem, which with the 'Fire, Famine, and Slaughter' first appeared in the Morning Post (6th Sept. 1799), the three first stanzas, which are worth all the rest, and the ninth, were dictated by Mr. Southey. See Apologetic Preface [to 'Fire, Famine and Slaughter '). Between the ninth and the concluding stanza, two or three are omitted as grounded on subjects which have lost their interest—and for better reasons.
If any one should ask who General meant, the Author begs leave to inform him, that he did once see a red-faced person in a dream whom by the dress he took for a General; but he might have been mistaken, and most certainly he did not hear any names mentioned. In simple verity, the author never meant any one, or indeed any thing but to put a concluding stanza to his doggerel. [S. T. C.'s note in 1829.] [See the originalversion of the poem in the “Notes.”-- ED.]
Down the river there plied, with wind While the pert Captain, or the primmer and tide,
Priest, A pig with vast celerity;
Prattles accordant scandal in her ear. And the Devil look'd wise as he saw how the while,
O give me, from this heartless scene It cut its own throat. · There !' quoth
released, he with a smile,
To hear our old musician, blind and "Goes “England's commercial prosper
(Whom stretching from my nurse's arms
I kissed,) As he went through Cold-Bath Fields he
His Scottish tunes and warlike marches saw
play, A solitary cell ;
By moonshine, on the balmy summerAnd the Devil was pleased, for it gave
night, him a hint
The while I dance amid the tedded For improving his prisons in Hell.
With merry maids, whose ringlets toss in General burning face
light. He saw with consternation, And back to hell his way did he take, 40 Or lies the purple evening on the bay For the Devil thought by a slight mistake Of the calm glossy lake, O let me hide It was general conflagration.
Unheard, unseen, behind the alder
For round their roots the fisher's boat is LINES COMPOSED IN A
On whose trim seat doth Edmund CONCERT-ROOM
stretch at ease, Nor cold, nor stern, my soul! yet I
And while the lazy boat sways to and
fro, detest These scented Rooms, where, to a
Breathes in his flute sad airs, so wild
and slow, gaudy throng, Heaves the proud Harlot her distended
That his own cheek is wet with quiet breast
tears. In intricacies of laborious song.
But 0, dear Anne ! when midnight These feel not Music's genuine power,
wind careers, nor deign
And the gust pelting on the out-house To melt at Nature's passion-warbled
Makes the cock shrilly in the rainBut when the long - breathed singer's
storm crow, uptrilled strain
To hear thee sing some ballad full of Bursts in a squall — they gape for
Ballad of ship-wreck'd sailor floating
dead, Hark! the deep buzz of Vanity and Whom his own true-love buried in the Hate !
sands ! Scornful, yet envious, with self-tortur- Thee, gentle woman, for thy voice reing sneer
measures My lady eyes some maid of humbler state, ! Whatever tones and melancholy pleasures
The things of Nature utter ; birds or
trees, Or moan of ocean-gale in weedy caves, Or where the stiff grass mid the heath
plant waves, Murmur and music thin of sudden breeze.
The unenjoying toiler's misery.
Beneath the shaft of Tell !
ODE TO GEORGIANA, DUCHESS There crowd your finely-fibred frame
All living faculties of bliss ;
And Genius to your cradle came,
His forehead wreathed with lambent ON THE TWENTY-FOURTH STANZA
flame, IN HER PASSAGE OVER MOUNT GOTHARD'
And bending low, with godlike kiss Conti
Breath'd in a more celestial life; 30 And hail the Chapel ! hail the Platform wild ! But boasts not many a fair compeer Where Tell directed the avenging dart,
A heart as sensitive to joy and fear? With well-strung arm, that first preserved his
And some, perchance, might wage an child,
equal strife, Then aim'd the arrow at the tyrant's heart.
Some few, to nobler being wrought,
Co-rivals in the nobler gift of thought.
Yet these delight to celebrate
Or in verse and music dress
Tales of rustic happiness-
That steel the rich man's breast, Whence learnt you that heroic mea- And mock the lot unblest, sure ?
The sordid vices and the abject pains, Loutro
Which evermore must be Light as a dream your days their circlets The doom of ignorance and penury ! ran,
free Nature's uncorrupted child, From all that teaches brotherhood to You hail'd the Chapel and the Platform Man
wild, Far, far removed ! from want, from hope,
Where once the Austrian fell from fear!
Beneath the shaft of Tell ! Enchanting music lulled your infant ear, O Lady, nursed in pomp and pleaObeisance, praises soothed your infant
sure ! heart :
Whence learnt you that heroic measure? Emblazonments and old ancestral crests,
You were a Mother! That most holy With many a bright obtrusive form of art,
name, Detained your eye from Nature : stately Which Heaven and Nature bless, vests,
I may not vilely prostitute to those That veiling strove to deck your charms Whose infants owe them less divine,
Than the poor caterpillar owes
The babes that loved you. You, with
They told her how a glorious light, ing read,
Streaming from a heavenly throng,
Around them shone, suspending night!
Blest Angels heralded the Saviour's birth,
She listened to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed;
And while she cried, the Babe is mine! guides
The milk rushed faster to her breast: His chariot-planet round the goal of Joy rose within her, like a summer's day,
Peace is born.
Poor, simple, and of low estate ! 20
That strife should vanish, battle cease, woes !
O why should this thy soul elate ? Thenceforth your soul rejoiced to see
Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's The shrine of social Liberty !
story,-O beautiful ! O Nature's child !
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame 'Twas thence you hailed the Plat
A stately hero clad in mail ? Thence learnt you that heroic Beneath his footsteps laurels spring ; measure.
Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail Their friend, their playmate! and his
bold bright eye
Compels the maiden's love-confessing A CHRISTMAS CAROL
And found the lowly stable-shed "Tell this in some more courtly scene,
Tomaids and youths in robes of state!
And therefore is my soul elate.