? 1795.


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Melts in her eye, and heaves her breast I would that from the pinions of thy dove of snow,

One quill withouten pain yplucked might Are not so sweet as is the voice of her,

be! My Sara—best beloved of human kind! For O! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee, When breathing the pure soul of tender- | And fain to her some soothing song ness

would write, She thrills me with the Husband's pro- Lest she resent my rude discourtesy, mised name !

Who vowed to meet her ere the morning


But broke my plighted word—ah ! false LINES


Last night as I my weary head did pillow ASCENT OF BROCKLEY COOMB,

With thoughts of my dissevered Fair SOMERSETSHIRE, MAY 1795

engrossed, With many a pause and oft reverted eye

Chill Fancy drooped wreathing herself

with willow, I climb the Coomb's ascent : sweet songsters near

As though my breast entombed a pining Warble in shade their wild-wood melody:

ghost. Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soothes ‘From some blest couch, young Rapture's

bridal boast, my ear. Up scour the startling stragglers of the Rejected Slumber ! hither wing thy way; flock

But leave me with the matin hour, at That on green plots o’er precipices As night-closed floweret to the orient ray,

browze : From the forced fissures of the naked My sad heart will expand, when I the

Maid survey. rock The Yew-tree bursts! Beneath its dark But Love, who heard the silence of my green boughs

thought, (Mid which the May-thorn blends its Contrived a too successful wile, I ween : blossoms white)

And whispered to himself, with malice Where broad smooth stones jut out in

fraughtmossy seats,

'Too long our Slave the Damsel's smiles I rest :--and now have gained the top

hath seen : most site.

To-morrow shall he ken her altered Ah ! what a luxury of landscape meets

mien !” My gaze! Proud towers, and cots more He spake, and ambushed lay, till on my dear to me,

bed Elm - shadow'd fields, and prospect

prospect- | The morning shot her dewy glances keen, bounding sea !

When as I'gan to lift my drowsy headDeep sighs my lonely heart : I drop the Now, Bard ! I'll work thee woe!' the tear :

laughing Elfin said. Enchanting spot ! O were my Sara here !

Sleep, softly-breathing God ! his downy

wing LINES IN THE MANNER OF Was fluttering now, as quickly to depart; SPENSER

When twanged an arrow from Love's

mystic string, O PEACE, that on a lilied bank dost love With pathless wound it pierced him to To rest thine head beneath an olive-tree,

the heart.




ing heals!

Was there some magic in the Elfin's Mourns the long absence of the lovely dart?

Day ; Or did he strike my couch with wizard Young Day returning at her promised lance?

hour For straight so fair a Form did upwards Weeps o'er the sorrows of her favourite start

Flower ; (No fairer decked the bowers of old Weeps the soft dew, the balmy gale she Romance

sighs, That Sleep enamoured grew, nor moved And darts a trembling lustre from her from his sweet trance !


New life and joy th' expanding Aow'ret My Sara came, with gentlest look divine;

feels : Bright shone her eye, yet tender was its

His pitying Mistress mourns, and mournbeam :

? 1795 I felt the pressure of her lip to mine ! Whispering we went, and Love was all

LINES our themeLove pure and spotless, as at first, I deem,

WRITTEN AT SHURTON BARS, NEAR He sprang from Heaven! Such joys

BRIDGEWATER, SEPTEMBER 1795, IN with Sleep did 'bide,

ANSWER TO A LETTER FROM BRISTOL That I the living Image of my Dream Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems

better sigh'd

Received from absent friend by way of Letter. "O! how shall I behold my Love at

For what so sweet can laboured lays impart eventide !!

? 1795.
As one rude rhyme warm from a friendly heart?


Nor travels my meandering eye

The starry wilderness on high ; WHEN WE SHALL MEET AGAIN

Nor now with curious sight (Composed during Illness, and in I mark the glow-worm, as I pass, Absence.)

Move with 'green radiance'i through


the grass,

An emerald of light.

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DIM Hour ! that sleep’st on pillowing

clouds afar,
O rise and yoke the Turtles to thy car !
Bend o'er the traces, blame each linger-

ing Dove,
And give me to the bosom of my Love !
My gentle Love, caressing and carest,
With heaving heart shall cradle me to

rest !
Shed the warm tear-drop from her smil-

ing eyes, Lull with fond woe, and medicine me

with sighs! [While finely - flushing float her kisses

meek, Like melted rubies, o'er my pallid cheek.] Chill'd by the night, the drooping Rose

of May

Beloved Woman ! did you fly
Chilled Friendship’s dark disliking eye,

1 The expression 'green radiance'is borrowed from Mr. Wordsworth [' An Evening Walk,'1793], a Poet whose versification is occasionally harsh and his diction too frequently obscure ; but whom I deem unrivalled among the writers of the present day in manly sentiment, novel imagery, and vivid colouring. [Note by S. T. C. in the editions of 1796-97.1

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A light in sound, a sound-like power in

COMPOSED AT CLEVEDON, SOMERSET- Rhythm in all thought, and / joyance

every where My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek re

Methinks, it should have been impos

sible clined

30 Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet

Not to love all things in a world so

filled ; it is To sit beside our cot, our cot o'ergrown

Where the breeze warbles, and the mute

still air With white-flowered Jasmin, and the broad-leaved Myrtle,

Is Music slumbering on her instrument. (Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!),

And thus, my love ! as on the midAnd watch the clouds, that late were

way slope rich with light,

Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at

noon, Slow saddening round, and mark the

Whilst through my half-closed eye-lids I star of eve

behold Serenely brilliant (such should wisdom

The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on be)

the main, Shine opposite ! How exquisite the

And tranquil muse upon tranquillity ; scents

Full many a thought uncalled and unSnatched from yon bean-field ! and the world so hushed !


And many idle flitting phantasies, 40
The stilly murmur of the distant sea
Tells us of silence.

Traverse my indolent and passive brain,

As wild and various as the random gales And that simplest lute, That swell and Autter on this subject Placed length-ways in the clasping case

lute ! ment, hark ! How by the desultory breeze caressed, And what if all of animated nature Like some coy maid half yielding to her Be but organic harps diversely framed, lover,

That tremble into thought, as o'er them It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must

sweeps needs

Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, Tempt to repeat the wrong!

And now,

At once the Soul of each, and God of its strings

all ? Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes

: Over delicious surges sink and rise,

But thy more serious eye a mild reproof Such a soft floating witchery of sound 20 Darts, 0 beloved woman ! nor such As twilight Elfins make, when they at

thoughts eve

Dim and unhallowed dost thou not Voyage on gentle gales from Fairy-Land,

Where Melodies round honey-dropping And biddest me walk humbly with my

Footless and wild, like birds of Paradise, Meek daughter in the family of Christ !
Nor pause, nor perch, hovering on un- Well hast thou said and holily dispraised
tamed wing!

These shapings of the unregenerate
O! the one life within us and abroad,

Which meets all motion and becomes its Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break

On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring.


The me sfint Adladet





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For never guiltless may I speak of him, Ere aught of perilous ascent you meet, The Incomprehensible ! save when with A mead of mildest charm delays th' unawe

labouring feet. I praise him, and with Faith that inly Not there the cloud-climb'd rock, sub

lime and vast, Who with his saving mercies healed me, X A sinful and most miserable man,

That like some giant king, o'er-glooms Wildered and dark, and gave me to

the hill;

Nor there the Pine-grove to the midpossess Peace, and this cot, and thee, dear hon

night blast

[rill Makes solemn music! But th' unceasing oured Maid !

To the soft Wren or Lark's descending


Murmurs sweet undersong 'mid jasmin TO THE AUTHOR OF POEMS



In this same pleasant meadow, at your PUBLISHED ANONYMOUSLY AT BRISTOL I ween, you wander'd—there collecting

flowers IN SEPTEMBER 1795

Of sober tint, and herbs of med'cinable UNBOASTFUL BARD! whose verse con

powers ! cise yet clear

There for the monarch-murder'd Soldier's Tunes to smooth melody unconquer'd

tomb sense,

You wove th' unfinish'd 1 wreath of sadMay your fame fadeless live, as never

dest hues ; sere'

And to that holiera chaplet added bloom 30 The Ivy wreathes yon Oak, whose broad

Besprinkling it with Jordan's cleansing defence

dews. Embowers me from Noon's sultry influ

But lo your Henderson 3 awakes the ence !

Muse For, like that nameless Rivulet stealing His Spirit beckon'd from the mountain's by,

height! Your modest verse to musing Quiet dear

You left the plain and soar'd mid richer Is rich with tints heaven-borrow'd : the

views ! charm'd eye

So Nature mourn'd when sunk the First Shall gaze undazzled there, and love the

Day's light, soften'd sky.

With stars, unseen before, spangling her

robe of night! Circling the base of the Poetic mount 10 A stream there is, which rolls in lazy Still soar, my Friend, those richer views flow

among, Its coal-black waters from Oblivion's Strong, rapid, fervent, flashing Fancy's fount :

beam ! The vapour-poison'd Birds, that fly too Virtue and Truth shall love your gentler low,

song ; Fall with dead swoop, and to the bottom But Poesy demands th' impassion'd go.

theme : Escaped that heavy stream on pinion Waked by Heaven's silent dews at Eve's fleet

mild gleam Beneath the Mountain's lofty-frowning

1‘War,' a Fragment. ? John Baptist,' a poem. brow,

3 ‘Monody on John Henderson.'

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