Elate of Heart and confident of Such was the sad and gloomy hour

When anguish'd care of sullen brow From vales where Avon sports, the Prepared the Poison's death-cold power. Minstrel came,

Already to thy lips was rais'd the bowl, Gay as the Poet hastes along When filial Pity stood thee by,

He meclitates the future song, Thy fixed eyes she bade thee roll бо How Ælla battled with his country's On scenes that well might melt thy foes,

soulAnd whilst Fancy in the air

Thy native cot she held to view, Paints him many a vision fair 30 Thy native cot, where Peace ere long His eyes dance rapture and his bosom llad listen'd to thy evening song ; glows.

Thy sister's shrieks she bade thee hear, With generous joy he views th’ ideal | And mark thy mother's thrilling tear, gold:

She made thee feel her deep - drawn He listens to many a Widow's prayers,

sigh, And many an Orphan’s thanks he And all her silent agony of Woe.

hears; He soothes to peace the care-worn And from thy Fate shall such distress breast,

ensue? He bids the Debtor's eyes know Ah ! dash the poison’d chalice from thy rest,


70 And Liberty and Bliss behold : And thou had'st dash'd it at her soft And now he punishes the heart of steel,

command; And her own iron rod he makes Op- | But that Despair and Indignation rose, pression feel.

And told again the story of thy Woes,

Told the keen insult of th' unfeeling Fated to heave sad Disappointment's

Heart, sigh,

40 The dread dependence on the low-born To feel the Hope now rais'd, and now

mind, deprest,

Told every Woe, for which thy breast To feel the burnings of an injur'd

might smart, breast,

Neglect and grinning scorn and Want From all thy Fate's deep sorrow keen

combin'd In vain, O Youth, I turn th' affrighted Recoiling back, thou sent'st the eye ;

friend of Pain For powerful Fancy evernigh

To roll a tide of Death thro' every freezThe hateful picture forces on my sight.

ing vein. There, Death of every dear delight, Frowns Poverty of Giant mien !

O Spirit blest !

80 In vain I seek the charms of youthful Whether th' eternal Throne around, grace,

Amidst the blaze of Cherubim, Thy sunken eye, thy haggard cheeks it Thou pourest forth the grateful shews,


[main, The quick emotions struggling in the Or, soaring through the blest DoFace

Enraptur’st Angels with thy strain, Faint index of thy mental Throes,

Grant me, like thee, the lyre to When each strong Passion spurn'd con

sound, troll,

Like thee, with fire divine to glowAnd not a Friend was nigh to calm thy But ah! when rage the Waves of stormy soul.


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Curst road! whose execrable way
Was darkly shadow'd out in Milton:

When the sad fiends thro' lIell's

sulphureous roads Took the first survey of their new

abodes; Or when the fallin Archangel fierce Dared through the realms of Night to

pierce, What time the Bloodhound lured by

Iluman scent Thro' all Confusion's quagmires flounder

ing went.

'Tis hard on Bagshot Ileath to try
Unclosed to keep the weary eye;
But ah! Oblivion's nod to get
In rattling coach is harder yet.
Slumbrous God of half-shut eye!
Who lovest with limbs supine to lie;
Soother sweet of toil and care
Listen, listen to my prayer;
And to thy votary dispense
Thy soporific influence !
What tho around thy drowsy head
The seven-fold cap of night be spread,
Yet list that drowsy head awhile
And yawn propitiously a smile;
In drizzly rains poppean dews
O'er the tired inmates of the Coach

And when thou'st charm’d our eyes to rest
Pillowing the chin upon the breast,
Bid many a dream from thy dominions
Wave its various-painted pinions,
Till ere the splendid visions close
We snore quartettes in ecstasy of nose.
While thus we urge our airy course,
O may no jolt's electric force
Our fancies from their steeds unhorse,
And call us from thy fairy reign
To dreary Bagshot IIeath again!


Nor cheering pipe, nor Bird's shrill note
Around thy dreary paths shall float;
Their boding songs shall scritch-owls pour
To fright the guilty shepherds sore,
Led by the wandering fires astray
Thro' the dank horrors of thy way!
While they their mud-lost sandals hunt
May all the curses, which they grunt
In raging moan like goaded hog,
Alight upon thee, damned Bog!



SWEET Muse! companion of my every

hour! Voice of my Joy! Sure soother of the

sigh! Now plume thy pinions, now exert each

power, And fly to him who owns the candid eye.


And if a smile of Praise thy labour hail (Well shall thy labours then my mind

employ) Fly fleetly back, sweet Muse! and with the tale

[Joy! O’erspread my Features with a flush of AIS.


THE indignant Bard composed this

furious ode, As tired he dragg'd his way thro' Plimtree

• road !
Crusted with filth and stuck in mire
Dull sounds the Bard's bemudded

Nathless Revenge and Ire the Poet

goad To pour his imprecations on the road.


IIENCE, soul-clissolving Harmony

That lead'st th’ oblivious soul astrayThough thou sphere-descended be

TIence away!

Thou mightier Goddess, thou demand'st

my lay, Born when earth was seized with

Or as more sapient sages say,
What time the Legion diabolic

Compell’d their beings to enshrine
In bodies vile of herded swine,
Precipitate adown the steep
With hideous rout were plunging

in the deep, And hog and devil mingling grunt and

Yet here her pensive ghiost delights

to stay; Oft pouring on the winds the broken

layAnd hark, I hear her-- 'twas the passing

blast. I love to sit upon her tomb's dark grass, Then Memory backward rolls Time's

shadowy tide; The tales of other days before me

glide : With eager thought I seize them as they

pass ; For fair, tho' faint, the forms of Memory

gleam, Like Heaven's bright beauteous bow reflected in the stream.

? 1790.


Seized on the ear with horrible ob

trusion ;

Then if aright old legendaries tell,
Wert thou begot by Discord on Con-



What though no name's sonorous power
Was given thee at thy natal hour -
Yet oft I feel thy sacred might,
While concords wing their distant flight.
Such power inspires thy holy son

Sable clerk of Tiverton.
And oft where Otter sports his stream,
I hear thy banded offspring scream.
Thou Goddess ! thou inspir’st each

throat ; 'Tis thou who pour'st the scritch-owl

note ! Transported hear’st thy children all Scrape and blow and squeak and squall, And while old Otter's steeple rings, Clappest hoarse thy raven wings !


O MEEK attendant of Sol's setting blaze, I hail, sweet star, thy chaste effulgent

glow; On thee full oft with fixed eye I gaze Till I, methinks, all spirit seem to

grow. () first and fairest of the starry choir, O loveliest 'mid the daughters of the

night, Must not the maid I love like thee inspire

Pure joy and calm Delight? Must she not be, as is thy placid sphere Serenely brilliant ? Whilst to gaze a

while Be all my wish 'mid Fancy's high career

E’en till she quit this scene of earthly



WITHIN these wilds was Anna wont to

rove While Harland told his love in many

a sigh, But stern Harland rolled her

brother's eye, They fought, they fell—her brother and

her love!

Then Hope perchance might fondly sigh

to join Her spirit in thy kindred orb, O star benign !

? 1790.

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To Death's dark house did grief-worn

Anna haste,

ONCE could the Morn's first beams, the

healthful breeze, All Nature charm, and gay was every

hour :

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Nodding their heads in all the pomp

of woe : Wide scatter round each deadly weed, And let the melancholy dirge complain, (Whilst bats shall shriek and dogs shall

howling run) His tea-kettle is spoilt and Coleridge

is undone !

But ah! not Music's self, nor fragrant

bower Can glad the trembling sense of wan

disease. Now that the frequent pangs my frame

assail, Now that my sleepless eyes are sunk and

dim, And seas of pain seem waving through

each limbAh what can all Life's gilded scenes avail? I view the crowd, whom youth and health

inspire, Hear the loud laugh, and catch the

sportive lay, Then sigh and think I too could laugh

and play And gaily sport it on the Muse's lyre, Ere Tyrant Pain had chased away delight, Ere the wild pulse throbb’d anguish thro'

the night!

Your cheerful song, ye unseen crickets,

cease ! Let songs of grief your alter'd minds

engage ! For he who sang responsive to your

lay, What time the joyous bubbles 'gan to

play, The sooty swain has felt the fire's fierce

rage ;Yes, he is gone, and all my woes

increase ; I heard the water hissing from the

woundNo more the Tea shall throw its fragrant

steam around !

? 1790.




LOVELY gems of radiance meek
Tumbling down my Laura's cheek,
As the streamlets silent glide
Thro' the meads' enamell’d pride,
Pledges sweet of pious woe,
Tears which Friendship taught to flow,
Sparkling in yon humid light
Love embathes his pinions bright :
There amid the glitt'ring show'r
As some winged Warbler oft
When spring-clouds shed their treasures

Joyous tricks his plumes anew,
And flutters in the fost'ring dew.


O Goddess best beloved ! Delightful

With whom compar'd what yields the

madd’ning Wine ?
Sweet power ! that know'st to spread

the calm delight, And the pure joy prolong to midmost

night! Ah ! must I all thy various charms

resign? Enfolded close in grief thy form I see No more wilt thou expand thy willing

arms, Receive the fervent Jove, and yield him

all thy charms !

? 1790


Muse that late sang another's poignant

pain, To griefs domestic turn thy coal-black

steed ! In slowest steps the funeral steeds

How low the mighty sink by Fate

opprest ! Perhaps, O Kettle ! thou by scornful

toe Rude urg'd t'ignoble place with plaint

ive din, May'st rust obscure midst heaps of

vulgar tin ;

shall go,

ere then


As if no joy had ever chear’d my My woes, my joys unshared ! Ah! long

breast When from thy spout the stream did On me thy icy dart, stern Death, be arching flow,

proved ;As if, inspir'd, thou ne'er hadst known Better to die, than live and not be loved ! t' inspire

1790. All the

raptures of poetic fire !

ON SEEING A YOUTH AFFECBut hark ! or do I fancy Georgian


A SISTER "What tho' its form did wondrous charms disclose

I too a sister had ! too cruel Death !

How sad remembrance bids my bosom (Not such did Memnon's sister sable

heave! drest) Take these bright arms with royal

Tranquil her soul, as sleeping Infant's

breath ; face imprest,

Meek were her manners as a vernal A better Kettle shall thy soul rejoice,

Eve. And with Oblivion's wing o'erspread thy woes!'

Knowledge, that frequent lifts the

bloated mind,
Thus Fairy Hope can soothe distress
and toil;

Gave her the treasure of a lowly breast,
Wit to

venom'd Malice oft On empty Trivets she bids fancied Kettles boil !


Dwelt in her bosom in a Turtle's nest.
Cease, busy Memory ! cease to urge

the dart; ON RECEIVING AN ACCOUNT Nor on my soul her love to me THAT HIS ONLY SISTER'S


For oh I mourn in anguish—and my DEATH WAS INEVITABLE


Feels the keen pang, th' unutterable The tear which mourn'd a brother's fate

distress. scarce dry

Yet wherefore grieve I that her sorrows Pain after pain, and woe succeeding

cease, woe

For Life was misery, and the Grave is Is my heart destined for another blow?

Peace !

? 1792. O my sweet sister ! and must thou too

die? Ah! how has Disappointment pour’d A MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM

the tear O’er infant Hope destroy'd by early frost! If Pegasus will let thee only ride him, How are ye gone, whom most my soul

Spurning my clumsy efforts to o'erstride him, held dear!

Some fresh expedient the Muse will try,

And walk on stilts, although she cannot fly. Scarce had I loved you ere I mourn'd

TO THE Rev. GEORGE COLERIDGE Say, is this hollow eye, this heartless pain,

DEAR BROTHER, Fated to rove thro' Life's wide cheerless I have often been surprised that plain

Mathematics, the quintessence of Truth, Nor father, brother, sister meet its ken- | should have found admirers so few and

you lost :

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