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62 MONEY, I've heard a wise man say,
LINES Makes herself wings and flies away
TO A COMIC AUTHOR, ON AN ABUSIVE Ah ! would she take it in her head
REVIEW To make a pair for me instead.
WHAT though the chilly wide-mouth'd MS.
From the rank swamps of murk ReviewMODERN CRITICS
land croak :
So was it, neighbour, in the times before No private grudge they need, no personal
When Momus, throwing on his Attic The viva sectio is its own delight !
cloak, All enmity, all envy, they disclaim,
Romp'd with the Graces; and each Disinterested thieves of our good name :
tickled Muse Cool, sober murderers of their neighbours' (That Turk, Dan Phoebus, whom bards fame !
call divine, Biog. Lit. (1817), ii. 118.
? 1816. Was married to at least, he kept--all
Fled, but still with reverted faces ran; WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM
Yet, somewhat the broad freedoms to
excuse, PARRY seeks the Polar ridge,
They had allured the audacious Greek Rhymes seeks S. T. Coleridge,
to use, Author of Works, whereof-tho' not in Swore they mistook him for their own Dutch—
good man. The public little knows—the publisher This Momus-Aristophanes on earth too much.
? 1818. Men call'd him--maugre all his wit and
Was croak’d and gabbled at. How,
then, should you, SENTIMENTAL
Or I, friend, hope to 'scape the skulking The rose that blushes like the morn,
crew ? Bedecks the valleys low ;
No! laugh, and say aloud, in tones of glee, And so dost thou, sweet infant corn,
'I hate the quacking tribe, and they
hate me !! My Angelina's toe.
? 1825. But on the rose there grows a thorn
63 That breeds disastrous woe ;
AUTHORS AND PUBLISHERS And so dost thou, remorseless corn,
'A HEAVY wit shall hang at every lord,' On Angelina's toe.
So sung Dan Pope ; but ’pon my word,
He was a story-teller,
Or else the times have altered quite,
For wits, or heavy, now, or light
Hang each by a bookseller. This way or that, ye Powers above me!
S. T. C. I of my grief were rid
Quoted in News of Literature, Dec. 10, 1825. Did Enna either really love me,
See Arch. Constable and his Literary CorreOr cease to think she did.
1826. spondents, 1873, iii. 482.
But when the said report was found
Why, then, what said the city ?
Pity, indeed, 'tis pity!' Keepsake, 1829.
In Köhln, a town of monks and bones, And pavements fang'd with murderous
stones, And rags, and hags, and hideous
wenches; I counted two and seventy stenches, All well defined, and several stinks! Ye Nymphs that reign o'er sewers and
sinks, The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne ; But tell me, Nymphs ! what power
divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
CHOLERA CURED BEFORE
65 ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE
FROM THE SAME CITY
Or a premonition promulgated gratis for the use of the Useful Classes, specially those resident in St. Giles's, Saffron Hill, Bethnal Green, etc.; and likewise, inasmuch as the good man is merciful even to the beasts, for the benefit of the Bulls and Bears of the Stock Exchange.
PAINS ventral, subventral,
For grins, groans, and wry faces ; But off to the doctor, fast as ye can
crawl ! Yet far better 'twould be not to have
them at all.
As I am rhymer,
That deserve to be known
IN Spain, that land of Monks and Apes, The thing called Wine doth come from
grapes, But on the noble River Rhine, The thing called Gripes doth come from Wine !
1828. Memoir of C. M. Young, 1871, p. 122.
Now to 'scape inward aches,
Call’d Cholery Morpus ;
for carrion to feed him, Tho' being a Devil, no one never has
seed him !
67 Last Monday all the papers said That Mr.
was dead; Why, then, what said the city ? The tenth part sadly shook their head, And shaking sigh'd and sighing said,
• Pity, indeed, ʼtis pity!'
Ah ! then my dear honies,
Och ! the hallabaloo !
As the gas-light unfragrant,
own tail ;--
Of all scents and degrees,
Hot dreams, and cold salads,
cate sows !
bub's banners, And whitewash at once bowels, rooms,
hands, and manners! July 26, 1832.
FRAGMENTS FROM A COMMONPLACE BOOK,
Once in the possession of John Mathew Gutch, and now (since 1868) in the British Museum, Add. MSS. 27901. Some of these Fragments were printed in Coleridge's Remains, 4 vols. 1836-39; others are now printed for the first time.
LITTLE Daisy-very late spring. March. Light cargoes waft of modulated sound Quid si vivat? Do all things in Faith. From viewless Hybla brought, when Never pluck a flower again! Mem.
Like Birds of Paradise on wings, that [I do not think Coleridge took this
aye vow in public—but Landor did—Fae- Disport in wild varieties of hues, sulan Idyll’in Gebir, Count Julian, etc., Murmur around the honey - dropping 1831).
flowers. • And 'tis and ever was my wish and way To let all flowers live freely.
3 I never pluck the rose : the violet's head
BROAD - BREASTED rock — hanging cliff Hath shaken with my breath upon its
that glasses bank
His rugged forehead in the calmy sea. And not reproacht me: the ever-sacred cup
[Its high, o'er - hanging, white, broadOf the pure lily hath between my hands
breasted cliffs, Felt safe, unsoil'd, nor lost one grain of Glassed on the subject ocean. gold.'--Ed.]
Destiny of Nations.-ED.]
13 WHERE Cam his stealthy flowings most
WHEREFORE art thou come? doth not dissembles
the Creator of all things know all things? And scarce the willow's watery shadow And if thou art come to seek him, know trembles.
that where thou wast, there he was.
[See Wanderings of Cain.] 5 Witi secret hand heal the conjectur'd
14 wound, [or]
AND cauldrons the scoop'd earth, a boilGuess at the wound, and heal with secret
ing sea. hand.
Rush on my ear, a cataract of sound. OUTMALICE Calumny's imposthum’d tongue.
The guilty pomp, consuming while it AND write Impromptus
flares. Spurring their Pegasus with tortoise gallop.
My heart seraglios a whole host of joys. 8 Due to the Staggerers, that made drunk
18 by Power Forget thirst's eager promise, and pre
A DUNGEON sume, Dark Dreamers ! that the world forgets In darkness I remain'd-the neighbour's it too.
Told me that now the rising sun
Shone lovely on my garden.
[See Osorio, Act i. and Remorse, Act i. Unfaithful to its seeming!
The Sun (for now his orb 'gan slowly POETRY without egotism, comparatively
Shot half his rays aslant the heath whose [See Preface, 1796.]
Purpled the mountain's broad and level II
top; OLD age, the shape and messenger of Rich was his bed of clouds, and wide
beneath His wither'd fist still knocking at Death's Expecting Ocean smiled with dimpled door.
God no distance knows, All of the whole possessing !
The quick raw flesh that burneth in the
Seiz’d in sore travail and portentous birth 21
(Her eye-balls flashing a pernicious glare) WISDOM, Mother of retired Thought. Sick Nature struggles ! Hark! her
pangs increase ! Her groans are horrible! But O! most
Nature Wrote Rascal on his face by chalco
The promised twins she bears-Equality
and Peace! graphic art !
The Ode' was published on the last 23
day of 1796. On the 6th February 1797 Dim specks of entity. (Applied to Coleridge wrote of this passage to John invisible insects.)
Thelwall :—You forgot to point out to
me that the whole child-birth of Nature 24
is at once ludicrous and disgusting-an In this world
epigram smart yet bombastic.'-ED.] We dwell among the tombs and touch The pollutions of the Dead—to God !
28 [See Destiny of Nations, 11. 169-171.
Discontent For she had lived Mild as an infant low-plaining in its In this bad world, as in a place of tombs,
sleep. And touched not the pollutions of the dead.
terrible and loud 25
As the strong Voice that from the THE mild despairing of a heart resigned.
Speaks to the startled Midnight. 26 Such fierce vivacity as fires the eye
30 Of Genius fancy-craz'd.
The swallows [See Destiny of Nations, 11. 250, 251. Interweaving there, and the pair'd seaSuch strange vivacity, as fires the eye
mews Of misery fancy-craz’d.
At distance wildly wailing!
31 like a mighty Giantess
On the broad mountain-top Seiz'd in sore travail and prodigious birth The neighing wild-colt races with the Sick Nature struggled : long and strange
wind her pangs ;
O'er fern and heath-flowers. Her groans were horrible, but O! most fair
32 The twins she bore - EQUALITY and PEACE!
A long deep lane
So overshadow'd, it might seem [See Ode to the Departing Year. In
bower the original edition the second strophe The damp clay-banks were furr'd with thus ended :