Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition)

In raging moan like goaded hog,

Alight upon thee, damnéd Bog!

MUSIC

Hence, soul-dissolving Harmony

That lead’st th’ oblivious soul astray —

Though thou sphere-descended be —

Hence away! —

Thou mightier Goddess, thou demand’st my lay, 5

Born when earth was seiz’d with cholic;

Or as more sapient sages say,

What time the Legion diabolic

Compell’d their beings to enshrine

In bodies vile of herded swine, 10

Precipitate adown the steep

With hideous rout were plunging in the deep,

And hog and devil mingling grunt and yell

Seiz’d on the ear with horrible obtrusion; —

Then if aright old legendaries tell, 15

Wert thou begot by Discord on Confusion!

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. 20

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; 25

‘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! 30

SONNET: ON QUITTING SCHOOL FOR COLLEGE

Farewell parental scenes! a sad farewell!

To you my grateful heart still fondly clings,

Tho’ fluttering round on Fancy’s burnish’d wings

Her tales of future Joy Hope loves to tell.

Adieu, adieu! ye much-lov’d cloisters pale! 5

Ah! would those happy days return again,

When ‘neath your arches, free from every stain,

I heard of guilt and wonder’d at the tale!

Dear haunts! where oft my simple lays I sang,

Listening meanwhile the echoings of my feet, 10

Lingering I quit you, with as great a pang,

As when erewhile, my weeping childhood, torn

By early sorrow from my native seat,

Mingled its tears with hers — my widow’d Parent lorn.

ABSENCE: A FAREWELL ODE ON QUITTING SCHOOL FOR JESUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE

Where graced with many a classic spoil

CAM rolls his reverend stream along,

I haste to urge the learnéd toil

That sternly chides my love-lorn song:

Ah me! too mindful of the days 5

Illumed by Passion’s orient rays,

When Peace, and Cheerfulness and Health

Enriched me with the best of wealth.

Ah fair Delights! that o’er my soul

On Memory’s wing, like shadows fly! 10

Ah Flowers! which Joy from Eden stole

While Innocence stood smiling by! —

But cease, fond Heart! this bootless moan:

Those Hours on rapid Pinions flown

Shall yet return, by Absence crown’d, 15

And scatter livelier roses round.

The Sun who ne’er remits his fires

On heedless eyes may pour the day:

The Moon, that oft from Heaven retires,

Endears her renovated ray. 20

What though she leave the sky unblest

To mourn awhile in murky vest?

When she relumes her lovely light,

We bless the Wanderer of the Night.

HAPPINESS

On wide or narrow scale shall Man

Most happily describe Life’s plan?

Say shall he bloom and wither there,

Where first his infant buds appear;

Or upwards dart with soaring force, 5

And tempt some more ambitious course?

Obedient now to Hope’s command,

I bid each humble wish expand,

And fair and bright Life’s prospects seem.

While Hope displays her cheering beam, 10

And Fancy’s vivid colourings stream,

While Emulation stands me nigh

The Goddess of the eager eye.

With foot advanc’d and anxious heart

Now for the fancied goal I start: — 15

Ah! why will Reason intervene

Me and my promis’d joys between!

She stops my course, she chains my speed,

While thus her forceful words proceed: —

Ah! listen, Youth, ere yet too late, 20

What evils on thy course may wait!

To bow the head, to bend the knee,

A minion of Servility,

At low Pride’s frequent frowns to sigh,

And watch the glance in Folly’s eye; 25

To toil intense, yet toil in vain,

And feel with what a hollow pain

Pale Disappointment hangs her head

O’er darling Expectation dead!

‘The scene is changed and Fortune’s gale 30

Shall belly out each prosperous sail.

Yet sudden wealth full well I know

Did never happiness bestow.

That wealth to which we were not born

Dooms us to sorrow or to scorn. 35

Behold yon flock which long had trod

O’er the short grass of Devon’s sod,

To Lincoln’s rank rich meads transferr’d,

And in their fate thy own be fear’d;

Through every limb contagions fly, 40

Deform’d and choked they burst and die.

‘When Luxury opens wide her arms,

And smiling wooes thee to those charms,

Whose fascination thousands own,

Shall thy brows wear the stoic frown? 45

And when her goblet she extends

Which maddening myriads press around,

What power divine thy soul befriends

That thou should’st dash it to the ground? —

No, thou shalt drink, and thou shalt know 50

Her transient bliss, her lasting woe,

Her maniac joys, that know no measure,

And Riot rude and painted Pleasure; —

Till (sad reverse!) the Enchantress vile

To frowns converts her magic smile; 55

Her train impatient to destroy,

Observe her frown with gloomy joy;

On thee with harpy fangs they seize

The hideous offspring of Disease,

Swoln Dropsy ignorant of Rest, 60

And Fever garb’d in scarlet vest,

Consumption driving the quick hearse,

And Gout that howls the frequent curse,

With Apoplex of heavy head

That surely aims his dart of lead. 65

‘But say Life’s joys unmix’d were given

To thee some favourite of Heaven:

Within, without, tho’ all were health —

Yet what e’en thus are Fame, Power, Wealth,

But sounds that variously express, 70

What’s thine already — Happiness!

‘Tis thine the converse deep to hold

With all the famous sons of old;

And thine the happy waking dream

While Hope pursues some favourite theme, 75

As oft when Night o’er Heaven is spread,

Round this maternal seat you tread,

Where far from splendour, far from riot,

In silence wrapt sleeps careless Quiet.

‘Tis thine with Fancy oft to talk, 80

And thine the peaceful evening walk;

And what to thee the sweetest are —

The setting sun, the Evening Star —

The tints, which live along the sky,

And Moon that meets thy raptur’d eye, 85

Where oft the tear shall grateful start,

Dear silent pleasures of the Heart!

Ah! Being blest, for Heaven shall lend

To share thy simple joys a friend!

Ah! doubly blest, if Love supply 90

His influence to complete thy joy,

If chance some lovely maid thou find

To read thy visage in thy mind.

‘One blessing more demands thy care: —

Once more to Heaven address the prayer: 95

For humble independence pray

The guardian genius of thy way;

Whom (sages say) in days of yore

Meek Competence to Wisdom bore,

So shall thy little vessel glide 100

With a fair breeze adown the tide,

And Hope, if e’er thou ‘ginst to sorrow,

Remind thee of some fair tomorrow,

Till Death shall close thy tranquil eye

While Faith proclaims “Thou shalt not die!”’ 105

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WRITTEN IN JESUS WOOD, FEB. 10, 1792