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.


quacking chorus

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

us, spite,

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

nine) 59

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

worth, 60

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
A rumour wholly without ground,

Why, then, what said the city ?
The other nine parts shook their head,
Repeating what the tenth had said,

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?





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,
In stomach or entrail,
Think no longer mere prefaces

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,
And now at least a merry one,
Mr. Mum's Rudesheimer
And the church of St. Geryon
Are the two things alone

That deserve to be known
In the body-and-soul - stinking town of



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,
Eat no plums nor plum-cakes ;
Cry avaunt ! new potato-
And don't drink, like old Cato.
Ah ! beware of Dispipsy,
And don't ye get tipsy!
For tho' gin and whiskey
May make you feel frisky,
They're but crimps to Dispipsy ;
And nose to tail, with this gipsy
Comes, black as a porpus,
The diabolus ipse,

Call’d Cholery Morpus ;
Who with horns, hoofs, and tail, croaks

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,
There's no cure for you
For loves nor for monies :--
You'll find it too true.

Och ! the hallabaloo !
Och ! och ! how you'll wail,
When the offal-fed vagrant
Shall turn you as blue

As the gas-light unfragrant,
That gushes in jets from beneath his

own tail ;--
'Till swift as the mail,
He at last brings the cramps on,
That will twist you like Samson.
So without further blethring,
Dear mudlarks ! my brethren !

Of all scents and degrees,
(Yourselves and your shes)
Forswear all cabal, lads,
Wakes, unions, and rows,

Hot dreams, and cold salads,
And don't pig in styes that would suffo-

cate sows !
Quit Cobbett's, O'Connell's and Beelze-

bub's banners, And whitewash at once bowels, rooms,

hands, and manners! July 26, 1832.



Circa 1795-97

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.

[blocks in formation]

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.

15 6

Rush on my ear, a cataract of sound. OUTMALICE Calumny's imposthum’d tongue.

16 7

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.
PERISH warmth

[See Osorio, Act i. and Remorse, Act i. Unfaithful to its seeming!

Scene ii.]

19 IO

The Sun (for now his orb 'gan slowly POETRY without egotism, comparatively

sink) uninteresting

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

“ Death,

beneath His wither'd fist still knocking at Death's Expecting Ocean smiled with dimpled door.


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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 :

mouldy moss.

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