WRITTEN IN JESUS WOOD, FEB. 10, 1792
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o! through the dusky silence of the groves,Thro' vales irriguous, and thro' green retreats,With languid murmur creeps the placid streamAnd works its secret way. Awhile meand'ring round its native fields 5It rolls the playful wave and winds its flight:Then downward flowing with awaken'd speedEmbosoms in the Deep! Thus thro' its silent tenor may my LifeSmooth its meek stream by sordid wealth unclogg'd, 10Alike unconscious of forensic storms,And Glory's blood-stain'd palm! And when dark Age shall close Life's little day,Satiate of sport, and weary of its toils,E'en thus may slumbrous Death my decent limbs 15Compose with icy hand! 1792. FOOTNOTES: [33:1] First published in 1893, from _MS. Letter to Mary Evans_, Feb. 13[1792]. AN ODE IN THE MANNER OF ANACREON[33:2] As late, in wreaths, gay flowers I bound,Beneath some roses Love I found;And by his little frolic pinionAs quick as thought I seiz'd the minion,Then in my cup the prisoner threw, 5And drank him in its sparkling dew:And sure I feel my angry guestFluttering _his wings_ within my breast! 1792. FOOTNOTES: [33:2] First published in 1893, from _MS. Letter_, Feb. 13 [1792]. TO DISAPPOINTMENT[34:1] Hence! thou fiend of gloomy sway,That lov'st on withering blast to rideO'er fond Illusion's air-built pride.Sullen Spirit! Hence! Away! Where Avarice lurks in sordid cell, 5Or mad Ambition builds the dream,Or Pleasure plots th' unholy schemeThere with Guilt and Folly dwell! But oh! when Hope on Wisdom's wingProphetic whispers pure delight, 10Be distant far thy cank'rous blight,Demon of envenom'd sting. Then haste thee, Nymph of balmy gales!Thy poet's prayer, sweet May! attend!Oh! place my parent and my friend 15'Mid her lovely native vales. Peace, that lists the woodlark's strains,Health, that breathes divinest treasures,Laughing Hours, and Social PleasuresWait my friend in Cambria's plains. 20 Affection there with mingled rayShall pour at once the raptures highOf filial and maternal Joy;Haste thee then, delightful May! And oh! may Spring's fair flowerets fade, 25May Summer cease her limbs to laveIn cooling stream, may Autumn graveYellow o'er the corn-cloath'd glade; Ere, from sweet retirement torn,She seek again the crowded mart: 30Nor thou, my selfish, selfish heartDare her slow return to mourn! 1792. FOOTNOTES: [34:1] First published in _Letters of Samuel Taylor Coleridge_, 1895, i.28, 29. The lines were included in a letter to Mrs. Evans, datedFebruary 13, 1792. A FRAGMENT FOUND IN A LECTURE-ROOM[35:1] Where deep in mud Cam rolls his slumbrous stream,And bog and desolation reign supreme;Where all Boeotia clouds the misty brain,The owl Mathesis pipes her loathsome strain.Far, far aloof the frighted Muses fly, 5Indignant Genius scowls and passes by:The frolic Pleasures start amid their dance,And Wit congeal'd stands fix'd in wintry trance.But to the sounds with duteous haste repairCold Industry, and wary-footed Care; 10And Dulness, dosing on a couch of lead,Pleas'd with the song uplifts her heavy head,The sympathetic numbers lists awhile,Then yawns propitiously a frosty smile. . . .[Caetera desunt.] 1792. FOOTNOTES: [35:1] First published in _Letters of Samuel Taylor Coleridge_, 1895, i.44. The lines were sent in a letter to the Rev. G. Coleridge, datedApril [1792]. LINENOTES: [1] slumbrous] reverend MS. E. [5] frighted] affrighted MS. E. [9] to] at MS. E. [12] Sooth'd with the song uprears MS. E. [13] The] Its MS. E. ODE[35:2] Ye Gales, that of the Lark's reposeThe impatient Silence break,To yon poor Pilgrim's wearying WoesYour gentle Comfort speak!He heard the midnight whirlwind die, 5He saw the sun-awaken'd SkyResume its slowly-purpling Blue:And ah! he sigh'd--that I might findThe cloudless Azure of the MindAnd Fortune's brightning Hue! 10Where'er in waving Foliage hidThe Bird's gay Charm ascends,Or by the fretful current chidSome giant Rock impends--There let the lonely Cares respire 15As small airs thrill the mourning LyreAnd teach the Soul her native Calm;While Passion with a languid EyeHangs o'er the fall of HarmonyAnd drinks the sacred Balm. 20 Slow as the fragrant whisper creepsAlong the lilied Vale,The alter'd Eye of Conquest weeps,And ruthless War grows paleRelenting that his Heart forsook 25Soft Concord of auspicious Look,And Love, and social Poverty;The Family of tender Fears,The Sigh, that saddens and endears,And Cares, that sweeten Joy. 30 Then cease, thy frantic Tumults cease,Ambition, Sire of War!Nor o'er the mangled Corse of PeaceUrge on thy scythéd Car.And oh! that Reason's voice might swell 35With whisper'd Airs and holy SpellTo rouse thy gentler Sense,As bending o'er the chilly bloomThe Morning wakes its soft PerfumeWith breezy Influence. 40 1792. FOOTNOTES: [35:2] These lines, first published in the _Watchman_ (No. IV, March 25,1796, _signed_ G. A. U. N. T.), were included in the volume of MS. Poemspresented to Mrs. Estlin in April, 1795. They were never claimed byColeridge or assigned to him, and are now collected for the first time. LINENOTES:
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