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

Loiters, the long-fill’d pitcher in her hand.

Unboastful Stream! thy fount with pebbled falls

The faded form of past delight recalls,

What time the morning sun of Hope arose, 25

And all was joy; save when another’s woes

A transient gloom upon my soul imprest,

Like passing clouds impictur’d on thy breast.

Life’s current then ran sparkling to the noon,

Or silvery stole beneath the pensive Moon: 30

Ah! now it works rude brakes and thorns among,

Or o’er the rough rock bursts and foams along!

IMITATIONS: AD LYRAM

(CASIMIR, BOOK II. ODE 3)

The solemn-breathing air is ended —

Cease, O Lyre! thy kindred lay!

From the poplar-branch suspended

Glitter to the eye of Day!

On thy wires hov’ring, dying, 5

Softly sighs the summer wind:

I will slumber, careless lying,

By yon waterfall reclin’d.

In the forest hollow-roaring

Hark! I hear a deep’ning sound — 10

Clouds rise thick with heavy low’ring!

See! th’ horizon blackens round!

Parent of the soothing measure,

Let me seize thy wetted string!

Swiftly flies the flatterer, Pleasure, 15

Headlong, ever on the wing.

AD LYRAM.

Sonori buxi Filia sutilis,

Pendebis alta, Barbite, populo,

Dum ridet aer, et supinas

Solicitat levis aura frondes:

Te sibilantis lenior halitus

Perflabit Euri: me iuvet interim

Collum reclinasse, et virenti

Sic temere iacuisse ripa.

Eheu! serenum quae nebulae tegunt

Repente caelum! quis sonus imbrium!

Surgamus — heu semper fugaci

Gaudia praeteritura passu!

‘Advertisement’ to Ad Lyram,

in Watchman, II, March 9, 1796.

TO LESBIA

Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus.

CATULLUS.

My Lesbia, let us love and live,

And to the winds, my Lesbia, give

Each cold restraint, each boding fear

Of age and all her saws severe.

Yon sun now posting to the main 5

Will set, — but ‘tis to rise again; —

But we, when once our mortal light

Is set, must sleep in endless night.

Then come, with whom alone I’ll live,

A thousand kisses take and give! 10

Another thousand! — to the store

Add hundreds — then a thousand more!

And when they to a million mount,

Let confusion take the account, —

That you, the number never knowing, 15

May continue still bestowing —

That I for joys may never pine,

Which never can again be mine!

THE DEATH OF THE STARLING

Lugete, O Veneres, Cupidinesque. — CATULLUS.

Pity! mourn in plaintive tone

The lovely starling dead and gone!

Pity mourns in plaintive tone

The lovely starling dead and gone.

Weep, ye Loves! and Venus! weep 5

The lovely starling fall’n asleep!

Venus sees with tearful eyes —

In her lap the starling lies!

While the Loves all in a ring

Softly stroke the stiffen’d wing. 10

MORIENS SUPERSTITI

The hour-bell sounds, and I must go;

Death waits — again I hear him calling; —

No cowardly desires have I,

Nor will I shun his face appalling.

I die in faith and honour rich — 5

But ah! I leave behind my treasure

In widowhood and lonely pain; —

To live were surely then a pleasure!

My lifeless eyes upon thy face

Shall never open more tomorrow; 10

Tomorrow shall thy beauteous eyes

Be closed to Love, and drown’d in Sorrow;

Tomorrow Death shall freeze this hand,

And on thy breast, my wedded treasure,

I never, never more shall live; — 15

Alas! I quit a life of pleasure.

MORIENTI SUPERSTES

Yet art thou happier far than she

Who feels the widow’s love for thee!

For while her days are days of weeping,

Thou, in peace, in silence sleeping,

In some still world, unknown, remote, 5

The mighty parent’s care hast found,

Without whose tender guardian thought

No sparrow falleth to the ground.

THE SIGH

When Youth his faery reign began

Ere Sorrow had proclaim’d me man;

While Peace the present hour beguil’d,

And all the lovely Prospect smil’d;

Then Mary! ‘mid my lightsome glee 5

I heav’d the painless Sigh for thee.

And when, along the waves of woe,

My harass’d Heart was doom’d to know

The frantic burst of Outrage keen,

And the slow Pang that gnaws unseen; 10

Then shipwreck’d on Life’s stormy sea

I heaved an anguish’d Sigh for thee!

But soon Reflection’s power imprest

A stiller sadness on my breast;

And sickly Hope with waning eye 15

Was well content to droop and die:

I yielded to the stern decree,

Yet heav’d a languid Sigh for thee!

And though in distant climes to roam,

A wanderer from my native home, 20

I fain would soothe the sense of Care,

And lull to sleep the Joys that were!

Thy Image may not banish’d be —

Still, Mary! still I sigh for thee.

THE KISS

One kiss, dear Maid! I said and sigh’d —

Your scorn the little boon denied.

Ah why refuse the blameless bliss?

Can danger lurk within a kiss?

Yon viewless wanderer of the vale, 5

The Spirit of the Western Gale,

At Morning’s break, at Evening’s close

Inhales the sweetness of the Rose,

And hovers o’er the uninjur’d bloom

Sighing back the soft perfume. 10

Vigour to the Zephyr’s wing

Her nectar-breathing kisses fling;

And He the glitter of the Dew

Scatters on the Rose’s hue.

Bashful lo! she bends her head, 15

And darts a blush of deeper Red!

Too well those lovely lips disclose

The triumphs of the opening Rose;

O fair! O graceful! bid them prove

As passive to the breath of Love. 20

In tender accents, faint and low,

Well-pleas’d I hear the whisper’d ‘No!’

The whispered ‘No’ — how little meant!

Sweet Falsehood that endears Consent!

For on those lovely lips the while 25

Dawns the soft relenting smile,

And tempts with feign’d dissuasion coy

The gentle violence of Joy.

TO A YOUNG LADY WITH A POEM ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION

Much on my early youth I love to dwell,

Ere yet I bade that friendly dome farewell,

Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters pale,

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

Yet though the hours flew by on careless wing, 5

Full heavily of Sorrow would I sing.

Aye as the Star of Evening flung its beam

In broken radiance on the wavy stream,

My soul amid the pensive twilight gloom

Mourn’d with the breeze, O Lee Boo! o’er thy tomb. 10

Where’er I wander’d, Pity still was near,

Breath’d from the heart and glisten’d in the tear:

No knell that toll’d but fill’d my anxious eye,

And suffering Nature wept that one should die!

Thus to sad sympathies I sooth’d my breast, 15

Calm, as the rainbow in the weeping West:

When slumbering Freedom roused by high Disdain

With giant Fury burst her triple chain!

Fierce on her front the blasting Dog-star glow’d;

Her banners, like a midnight meteor, flow’d; 20

Amid the yelling of the storm-rent skies!

She came, and scatter’d battles from her eyes!

Then Exultation waked the patriot fire

And swept with wild hand the Tyrtaean lyre:

Red from the Tyrant’s wound I shook the lance, 25

And strode in joy the reeking plains of France!

Fallen is the Oppressor, friendless, ghastly, low,

And my heart aches, though Mercy struck the blow.

With wearied thought once more I seek the shade,

Where peaceful Virtue weaves the Myrtle braid. 30