O then 't were loveliest sympathy, to mark Beneath the cypress, or the yew more dark, Shouts eagerly for haply there uprears Ah! dearest youth!,it were a lot divine While west-winds fann'd our temples toil-bedew'd:| LINES TO W. L. ESQ. WHILE HE SANG A SONG TO PURCELL'S MUSIC. WHILE my young cheek retains its healthful hues, And if at death's dread moment I should lie ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG MAN OF FORTUNE HENCE that fantastic wantonness of woe, Pace round some widow's grave, whose dearer part Then downwards slope, oft pausing, from the The flocking flesh-birds scream'd! Then, while thy mount, To some lone mansion, in some woody dale, Thus rudely versed in allegoric lore, Where Inspiration, his diviner strains O week retiring spirit! we will climb, As neighboring fountains image, each the whole: heart Groans, and thine eye a fiercer sorrow dims, SONNET TO THE RIVER OTTER. DEAR native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West! Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows gray, way, Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs: Ah! that once more I were a careless child! SONNET. COMPOSED ON A JOURNEY HOMEWARD; THE AUTHOR Seem a mere semblance of some unknown past, Mix'd with such feelings, as perplex the soul Self-question'd in her sleep; and some have said* We lived, ere yet this robe of Flesh we wore. O my sweet baby! when I reach my door, If heavy looks should tell me thou art dead (As sometimes, through excess of hope, I fear), I think that I should struggle to believe Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere Sentenced for some more venial crime to grieve; Didst scream, then spring to meet Heaven's quick reprieve, While we wept idly o'er thy little bier! SONNET. TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT WHEN THE NURSE FIRST PRESENTED MY INFANT TO ME. CHARLES! my slow heart was only sad, when first All I had been, and all my child might be ! And hanging at her bosom (she the while Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile) Then I was thrill'd and melted, and most warm Impress'd a Father's kiss: and all beguiled Of dark remembrance and presageful fear, I seem'd to see an angel-form appear"T was even thine, beloved woman mild! So for the Mother's sake the Child was dear, And dearer was the Mother for the Child. THE VIRGIN'S CRADLE-HYMN. COPIED FROM A PRINT OF THE VIRGIN IN A CATHOLIC VILLAGE IN GERMANY. DORMI, Jesu! Mater ridet, Quæ tam dulcem somnum videt, Dormi, Jesu! blandule! Si non dormis, Mater plorat, Blande, veni, somnule. ENGLISH. Sleep, sweet babe! my cares beguiling Sleep, my darling, tenderly! ON THE CHRISTENING OF A FRIEND'S CHILD. THIS day among the faithful placed And fed with fontal manna; O with maternal title graced Dear Anna's dearest Anna! Ην που ημων η ψυχη πριν εν τωδε τω ανθρωπινω είδει γενέσθαι. PLAT. in Phædon While others wish thee wise and fair, Thy Mother's name, a potent spell, Meek Quietness, without offence; Associates of thy name, sweet Child! These Virtues mayst thou win; With Face as eloquently mild To say, they lodge within. So when, her tale of days all flown, Some hoary-headed Friend, perchance, Ev'n thus a lovely rose I view'd In summer-swelling pride; Nor mark'd the bud, that green and rude Peep'd at the Rose's side. It chanced, I pass'd again that way And wond'ring saw the self-same spray Ah fond deceit! the rude green bad EPITAPH ON AN INFANT. ITs balmy lips the Infant blest Relaxing from its Mother's breast, How sweet it heaves the happy sigh Of innocent Satiety! And such my Infant's latest sigh! O tell, rude stone! the passer-by, That here the pretty babe doth lie, Death sang to sleep with Lullaby. MELANCHOLY. A FRAGMENT. STRETCH'D on a moulder'd Abbey's broadest" IMITATED FROM STOLBERG. MARK this holy chapel well! The Birth-place, this, of William Tell. Here first, an infant to her breast, And kiss'd the babe, and bless'd the day, "Vouchsafe him health, O God, and give God gave him reverence of laws, The eye of the Hawk, and the fire therein! To Nature and to Holy writ Where flash'd and roar'd the torrent, oft The straining oar and chamois chase He knew not that his chosen hand, A CHRISTMAS CAROL. And now they check'd their eager tread, They told her how a glorious light, Streaming from a heavenly throng, Around them shone, suspending night! While, sweeter than a Mother's song, Blest Angels heralded the Savior's birth, Glory to God on high! and peace on Earth. HUMAN LIFE, ON THE DENIAL OF IMMORTALITY Ir dead, we cease to be; if total gloom Whose sound and motion not alone declare, If rootless thus, thus substanceless thy state, ⚫ A botanical mistake. The plant which the poet here de- The counter-weights!-Thy Laughter and thy Tears scribes is called the Hart's Tongue. Mean but themselves, each fittest to create, And to repay the other! Why rejoices Image of image, Ghost of Ghostly Elf, These costless shadows of thy shadowy self? THE VISIT OF THE GODS. IMITATED FROM SCHILLER. Scarce had I welcomed the Sorrow-beguiler, Terrestrial Hall! How shall I yield you Due entertainment, Celestial Quire? [The following fragment is here published at the request of a poet of great and deserved celebrity, and, as far as the Author's own opinions are concerned, rather as a psychological curiosity, than on the ground of any supposed poetic merits. In the summer of the year 1797, the Author, then in ill health, had retired to a lonely farm-house between Porlock and Linton, on the Exmoor confines of Somerset and Devonshire. In consequence of a slight indisposition, an anodyne had been prescribed, from the effects of which he fell asleep in his chair at the moment that he was reading the following sentence, of words of the same substance, in Purchas's "Pilgrimage:" Me rather, bright guests! with your wings of up-"Here the Khan Kubla commanded a palace to be built, and s buoyance Bear aloft to your homes, to your banquets of joyance, O give me the Nectar! O fill me the Bowl! Quicken his eyes with celestial dew, That Styx the detested no more he may view, Forbids me to die! ELEGY, IMITATED FROM ONE OF AKENSIDE'S BLANK VERSE NEAR the lone pile with ivy overspread, Fast by the rivulet's sleep-persuading sound, Where" sleeps the moonlight" on yon verdant O humbly press that consecrated ground! stately garden thereunto; and thus ten miles of fertile ground were inclosed with a wall." The author continued for abou three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines; if that indeed can be called composition in which all the images rose up before him as things, with a parallel production of the correspondent expressions, without any sensation, or consciousness of effort. On awaking he appeared to himself to have a distinct recollection of the whole, and taking his pen, ink, and paper, instantly and eagerly wrote down the lines that are here preserved. At this moment he was unfortunately called out by a person on business from Porlock, and detained by him above an hour, and on his return to his room, found, to his no small surprise and mortification, that though he still retained some vague and dim recollection of the general purport of the vision, yet, with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone had been cast, but, alas! without the after restoration of the latter. Then all the charm Is broken-all that phantom-world so fair Yet from the still surviving recollections in his mind, the Autho bed-has frequently purposed to finish for himself what had bee originally, as it were, given to him. Zauɛpov adiev arw. but the to-morrow is yet to come. For there does Edmund rest, the learned swain! Like some tall tree that spreads its branches wide, As a contrast to this vision, I have annexed a fragment of a very different character, describing with equal fidelity the dream of pain and disease.-Note to the first Edition, 1916.] IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: But oh that deep romantic chasm which slanted And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, The shadow of the dome of pleasure In a vision once I saw : It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she play'd, Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 't would win me, That with music loud and long, 'would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there, Since in me, round me, everywhere, Eternal Strength and Wisdom are. But yester-night I pray'd aloud Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me : And whom I scorn'd, those only strong! So two rights pass'd: the night's dismay The third night, when my own loud scream And whom I love, I love indeed. APPENDIX. THE PAINS OF SLEEP. ERE on my bed my limbs I lay, No wish conceived, no thought express'd! That I am weak, yet not unblest, APOLOGETIC PREFACE TO "FIRE, FAMINE, AND SLAUGHTER." AT the house of a gentleman, who by the principles and corresponding virtues of a sincere Christian consecrates a cultivated genius and the favorable accidents of birth, opulence, and splendid connexions, it was my good fortune to meet, in a dinner-party, with more men of celebrity in science or polite literature, than are commonly found collected round the same table. In the course of conversation, one of the party reminded an illustrious Poet, then present, of some verses which he had recited that morning, and which had appeared in a newspaper under the name of a War-Eclogue, in which Fire, Famine, and Slaughter were introduced as the speakers. The gentleman so addressed replied, that he was rather surprised that |