The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Paul's Churchyard, 1798': included in _Poetical Register_, 1808-9 (1812): in _Fears in Solitude_, &c., printed by Law and Gilbert, (?) 1812: in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834.
[240:2] _Only that film._ In all parts of the kingdom these films are called _strangers_ and supposed to portend the arrival of some absent friend. _4{o}_, _P. R._
[242:1] The date is omitted in _1829_ and in _1834_.
LINENOTES:
[Between 19-25]
With which I can hold commune. Idle thought!
But still the living spirit in our frame, That loves not to behold a lifeless thing, Transfuses into all its own delights, Its own volition, sometimes with deep faith And sometimes with fantastic playfulness.
Ah me! amus'd by no such curious toys Of the self-watching subtilizing mind, How often in my early school-boy days With most believing superst.i.tious wish.
4{o}.
With which I can hold commune: haply hence, That still the living spirit in our frame, Which loves not to behold a lifeless thing, Transfuses into all things its own Will, And its own pleasures; sometimes with deep faith, And sometimes with a wilful playfulness That stealing pardon from our common sense Smiles, as self-scornful, to disarm the scorn For these wild reliques of our childish Thought, That flit about, oft go, and oft return Not uninvited.
Ah there was a time, When oft amused by no such subtle toys Of the self-watching mind, a child at school, With most believing superst.i.tious wish.
P. R.
[Between 20-4]
To which the living spirit in our frame, That loves not to behold a lifeless thing, Transfuses its own pleasures, its own will.
S. L. 1828.
[26] To watch the _stranger_ there! and oft belike 4{o}, P. R.
[27] had] have P. R.
[32] wild] sweet S. L. (for _sweet_ read _wild_. _Errata_, S. L., p.
[xii]).
[45] deep] dead 4{o}, P. R., S. L. (for _dead_ read _deep_. _Errata_, S.
L., p. [xii]).
[46] Fill] Fill'd S. L. (for _Fill'd_ read _Fill_. _Errata_, S. L., p.
[xii]).
[48] thrills] fills 4{o}, P. R., S. L. (for _fills_ read _thrills_.
_Errata_, S. L., p. [xii]).
[67] redbreast] redb.r.e.a.s.t.s 4{o}, P. R.
[69] the nigh] all the 4{o}.
[71] trances] traces S. L. (for _traces_ read _trances_. _Errata_, S.
L., p. [xii]).
[72-end]
Or whether the secret ministery of cold Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly s.h.i.+ning to the quiet moon, Like those, my babe! which ere tomorrow's warmth Have capp'd their sharp keen points with pendulous drops, Will catch thine eye, and with their novelty Suspend thy little soul; then make thee shout, And stretch and flutter from thy mother's arms As thou wouldst fly for very eagerness.
4{o}.
FRANCE: AN ODE[243:1]
I
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause, Whose pathless march no mortal may controul!
Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws!
Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing, 5 Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, Save when your own imperious branches swinging, Have made a solemn music of the wind!
Where, like a man beloved of G.o.d, Through glooms, which never woodman trod, 10 How oft, pursuing fancies holy, My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound, Inspired, beyond the guess of folly, By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!
O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high! 15 And O ye Clouds that far above me soared!
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!
Yea, every thing that is and will be free!
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be, With what deep wors.h.i.+p I have still adored 20 The spirit of divinest Liberty.
II
When France in wrath her giant-limbs upreared, And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea, Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free, Bear witness for me, how I hoped and feared! 25 With what a joy my lofty gratulation Unawed I sang, amid a slavish band: And when to whelm the disenchanted nation, Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand, The Monarchs marched in evil day, 30 And Britain joined the dire array; Though dear her sh.o.r.es and circling ocean, Though many friends.h.i.+ps, many youthful loves Had swoln the patriot emotion And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves; 35 Yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance, And shame too long delayed and vain retreat!
For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame; 40 But blessed the paeans of delivered France, And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.
III
'And what,' I said, 'though Blasphemy's loud scream With that sweet music of deliverance strove!
Though all the fierce and drunken pa.s.sions wove 45 A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream!
Ye storms, that round the dawning East a.s.sembled, The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!'
And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled, The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright; 50 When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory Concealed with cl.u.s.tering wreaths of glory; When, insupportably advancing, Her arm made mockery of the warrior's ramp; While timid looks of fury glancing, 55 Domestic treason, crushed beneath her fatal stamp, Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore; Then I reproached my fears that would not flee; 'And soon,' I said, 'shall Wisdom teach her lore In the low huts of them that toil and groan! 60 And, conquering by her happiness alone, Shall France compel the nations to be free, Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth their own.'
IV
Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!
I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament, 65 From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sent-- I hear thy groans upon her blood-stained streams!
Heroes, that for your peaceful country perished, And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows With bleeding wounds; forgive me, that I cherished 70 One thought that ever blessed your cruel foes!
To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt, Where Peace her jealous home had built; A patriot-race to disinherit Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear; 75 And with inexpiable spirit To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer-- O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind, And patriot only in pernicious toils!
Are these thy boasts, Champion of human kind? 80 To mix with Kings in the low l.u.s.t of sway, Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey; To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?
V
The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, 85 Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game They burst their manacles and wear the name Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain!
O Liberty! with profitless endeavour Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour; 90 But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power.
Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee, (Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee) Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions, 95 And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves, Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions, The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves!
And there I felt thee!--on that sea-cliff's verge, Whose pines, scarce travelled by the breeze above, 100 Had made one murmur with the distant surge!
