Erretten würde von der Schmach FRIEDREICH LEOPOLD GRAF ZU STOLBERG, 1775. 135. The Visit of the Gods, p. 142. First printed in Sib. Leaves (1817), with the acknowledgment, Imitated from Schiller.' In editions 1828 and 1829 this poem was entered in the 'Contents' as 'The Vision of the Gods'; but in the text it is called The Visit of the Gods.' The following is Schiller's original :DITHYRAMBE. Nimmer, das glaubt mir, Erscheinen die Götter, Kaum dasz ich Bacchus, den Lustigen, habe, Kommt auch schon Amor, der lächelnde Phöbus, der Herrliche, findet sich ein! Die Himmlischen alle, Mit Göttern erfüllt sich Die irdische Halle. Sagt, wie bewirth' ich, Der Erdegeborne, Himmlischen Chor? Schenket mir euer unsterbliches Leben, Götter! Was kann euch der Sterbliche geben? Hebet zu eurem Olymp mich empor. O füllet mit Nektar, O reicht mir die Schale ! Reich' ihm die Schale ! Schenke dem Dichter, Hebe, nur ein ! Netz' ihm die Augen mit himmlischem Thaue, Dasz er den Styx, den verhaszten, nicht schaue, Einer der Unsern sich dünke zu seyn. Sie rauschet, sie perlet, Die himmlische Quelle: 136. From the German, p. 143. This translation of part of Mignon's song in Wilhelm Meister was first printed in P. W. 1834. It was omitted, probably by an accident, from P. and D. W. 1877-80. The editor of the Aldine edition (1885) remarks, correctly, I believe: This fragment is the only trace of Goethe to be found in Coleridge's Poems.' 137. Mutual Passion, p. 143. First printed in the supplementary sheet prefixed to Sib. Leaves (1817) as 'a song modernised, with some additions from one of our elder poets' ('Preface'), and in the heading as altered and modernised from an old Poet.' The former characterisation would lead the reader to suppose an English poet, but Prof. Brandl (Life of S. T. C. p. 248) says the poem is an 'imitation of the old-fashioned rhymes which introduce Minnesang's Frühling.' In Mr. S. M. Samuel's annotated copy of Sib. Leaves Coleridge has drawn his pen through the second stanza. 138. Water Ballad, p. 143. This appeared, without note or comment, in the Athenæum for October 9, 1831; and was first collected in P. and D. W. 1877-80. 139. Names, p. 144. First printed in Morning Post, Aug. 17, 1799; then in Keepsake for 1829 (1828); and was first collected in P. W. 1834. It was always printed without acknowledgment to Lessing, of whose 'Die Namen' it is a translation. DIE NAMEN. Ich fragte meine Schöne : Wie soll mein Lied dich nennen ? Soll dich als Dorimana, Als Galathee, als Chloris, Als Lesbia, als Doris, Die Welt der Enkel kennen? Ach! Namen sind nur Töne; Sprach meine holde Schöne, Wähl' selbst. Du kannst mich Doris, Und Galathee und Chloris Probably first printed in a newspaper, for it appears in the Poetical Register for 1804 (1805) in the Fugitive' section. I have printed this text at p. 144, because it is evidently more correct than that copied from the Literary Souvenir of 1826, in P. and D. W. 1877-80. 'Her father's love' is absurd, whereas 'Her father's leave' is in accord with the best traditions and principles. also improvements. p. 31) in the Morn. Chronicle, Sept. 27, 1794; next in the Watchman, No. IX. May 5, 1796; then in every edition of Coleridge's Poems from 1796 to 1829, with the single exception of Sib. Leaves. In the first three it had a page all to itself. It was Lamb's special aversion - see his letters to Coleridge of June 10 and Dec. 2, 1796. 143. On an Infant which died before Baptism, p. 145. First printed in P. W. 1834. The lines were sent (from Göttingen) by Coleridge to his wife in the letter which replied to the announcement of the death of their own infant son, Berkeley. He says they were written for an Englishman at Göttingen whose child had died before christening,' and speaks of them as prophetic of Berkeley's death, the news of which had not reached him at the time he composed them. 144. Epitaph on an Infant, p. 145. First printed in P. W. 1834. It is not The other variants are improbable that the lines refer to the poet's infant son, Berkeley. 141. Translation of a Passage in Ottfried's Gospel, p. 144. The note at the head of the poem is taken from the remarks in the Biog. Lit. (1817, i. 204, 205), by which the translation is there introduced. Coleridge adds, that while at Göttingen he read through Ottfried's paraphrase with Prof. Tychsen. He says the passage translated is from chap. v. ; but Mrs. H. N. Coleridge (Biog. Lit. 1847, i. 213) says it is from 'chap. xi.' and gives the reference: Otfridi Evang. lib. i. cap. xi. 1. 73-108, contained in Schilter's Thesaurus Antiquitatum Teutonicarum, pp. 50, 51,' adding, The translation is a little condensed, but faithful in sense.' A few couplets of the original were added. 142. Epitaph on an Infant, p. 145. I have thought it best to group the Epitaphs on infants, and the consequence is that this notorious one is a little belated. It first appeared (along with the Elegy, 145. Lives written in the Album at Elbingerode, p. 145. First printed in the Morning Post, Sept. 17, 1799; then in the Ann. Anthol. (1800). In one of the letters to his wife (written from the Hartz), printed partially in the Amulet for 1829, and completely in the New Monthly Magazine for October 1835, S. T. C. says: At the inn [at Elbinrode, as he then called the place] they brought us an Album, or Stamm-Buch, requesting that we would write our names and something or other as a remembrance that we had been there. I wrote the following lines which I send to you, not that they possess a grain of merit as poetry, but because they contain a true account of my journey from the Brocken to Elbinrode.' [So spelled throughout. Then follow the lines, without important variations in text. In the Ann. Anthol. 'Brocken,' in line 1, has the footnote: The highest mountain in the Hartz, and indeed in North Germany.' The quotation from Southey was printed Early Years, etc. (1856, i. 66), in describalso in the Ann. Anthol. 146. Something childish, but very natural, p. 146. First printed in Ann. Anthol. for 1800 with the signature Cordomi.' In his own copy he explains the signature by writing 'i.e. Heart-at-Home.' The poet sent the lines to his wife in a letter dated 'Göttingen, April 23, 1799.' In the Biog. Memoir prefixed to the Tauchnitz reprint of the Poems, 1852, Ferd. Freiligrath says these lines are an 'imitation of the German popular song "Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär'," of which a friend has kindly given me a transcript from "Des Knaben Wunderhorn": Wenn ich ein Vöglein wär', Und auch zwei Flüglein hätt', Weil's aber nicht kann sein, Bin ich gleich weit von dir, Und red' mit dir; Wenn ich erwachen thu', Es vergeht keine Stund' in der Nacht Da mein Herz nicht erwacht Und an dich gedenkt. Wie du mir viel tausendmal, Wie du mir viel tausendmal, 147. Home-sick, p. 146. First printed in Ann. Anthol. for 1800 with the signature Cordomi' (see preceding Note) and the 13th line reading thus: 'Home-sickness is no baby-pang.' The lines were sent to Poole in a letter from Göttingen, introduced thus: 'O Poole! I am homesick. Yesterday, or rather yesternight, I dittied the following hobbling Ditty; but my poor muse is quite gone-perhaps she may return and meet me at Stowey.' Dr. Carlyon in his ing what Coleridge called the CarlyonParry-Greenative' to the Hartz, tells us that Coleridge dictated these lines in the Stamm-Buch of the Werningerode Inn, reserving his greater effort for Elbingerode. (This is not what Dr. Carlyon says, but it is evidently what he means. He omits the second stanza, but that may be only by an oversight.) squib had a great circulation, and in 1812 the verses were still remembered and quoted as Porson's, for that great and good man took as little pains to disavow their authorship as in the case of Matthews' Eloisa en dishabille. In that year Shelley distributed his imitative broadsheet, The Devil's Walk; and in 1813 Byron his The Devil's Drive, 'the notion of which,' he tells Moore, he took from Porson's Devil's Walk.' In 1827 Southey was moved by 'the confident assertions still put forth that Porson was the author of that delectable poem,' The Devil's Walk (Letters, 1856, iv. 51), to spin it out to fifty-seven stanzas, which still disfigure the complete editions of his Poetical Works. Again, in 1830-31, sundry versions, more or less incorrect, were issued in pamphlets, with bad illustrations by Robert Cruikshank, and less bad ones by T. Landseer. For an excellent account, by Mr. C. A. Ward, of this later history of the squib see N. and Q., 7th ser. viii. 161. See also Southey's P. W. (one vol.), p. 166; or 1838, iii. 83. In spite of Coleridge's disclaimer that he meant nobody in particular by 'General -,' the stanza has been frequently and impudently misquoted with various names filled in-especially in 'Thomas Clarkson a Monograph' (1854, p. 212), where Gascoyne' is inserted, meaning a pro-slavery M. P. for Liverpool in 1806. 150. Lines composed in a Concert-Room, P. 148. I have placed this among the 1799 poems because it was then first printed in the Morning Post (Sept. 24). In some form it probably existed in 1796, for an allusion in a letter of Lamb to Coleridge of July 5 of that year seems to point to it. It will be found in Ainger's Letters. i. 31, but I print from the original letter which has been tampered with by Talfourd :-'Have a care, good Master Poet, of the Statute de Contumelia. What do you mean by calling Madame Mara harlots and naughty things? The goodness of the verse would not save you in a Court of Justice.' But the poem may well be a recast of some early verses, for the 'dear Anne' to whom it is addressed may have been his favourite sister of that name (Ann) The language infers that 'dear Anne' is still alive, and is rather more appropriate as coming from a brother to a sister than from a lover to his sweetheart. Though the scenery includes a 'lake,' it looks as if it had been sketched by the banks of the Otter. In the Morning Post the poem closed with these three stanzas, never reprinted until ed. 1877-80. The blanks in the MS. may have been filled in with something which prompted Lamb's mention of Madame Mara, nothing in the printed verses giving a clue to any particular songstress : 'Dear Maid! whose form in solitude I seek, Such songs in such a mood to hear thee sing, It were a deep delight!-But thou shalt fling Thy white arm round my neck, and kiss my cheek, And love the brightness of my gladder |