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

— I asked him whither he was bound, and what

The object of his journey; he replied

That he was going many miles to take

A last leave of his son, a mariner,

Who from a sea-fight had been brought to Falmouth,

And there was lying in an hospital.

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[When a Northern Indian, from sickness, is unable to continue his journey with his companions; he is left behind, covered over with Deer-skins, and is supplied with water, food, and fuel if the situation of the place will afford it. He is informed of the track which his companions intend to pursue, and if he is unable to follow, or overtake them, he perishes alone in the Desart; unless he should have the good fortune to fall in with some other Tribes of Indians. It is unnecessary to add that the females are equally, or still more, exposed to the same fate. See that very interesting work, Hearne’s Journey from Hudson’s Bay to the Northern Ocean. In the high Northern Latititudes, as the same writer informs us, when the Northern Lights vary their position in the air, they make a rustling and a crackling noise. This circumstance is alluded to in the first stanza of the following poem.]

THE COMPLAINT, etc.

Before I see another day,

Oh let my body die away!

In sleep I heard the northern gleams;

The stars they were among my dreams;

In sleep did I behold the skies,

I saw the crackling flashes drive;

And yet they are upon my eyes,

And yet I am alive.

Before I see another day,

Oh let my body die away!

My fire is dead: it knew no pain;

Yet is it dead, and I remain.

All stiff with ice the ashes lie;

And they are dead, and I will die.

When I was well, I wished to live,

For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire;

But they to me no joy can give,

No pleasure now, and no desire.

Then here contented will I lie;

Alone I cannot fear to die.

Alas! you might have dragged me on

Another day, a single one!

Too soon despair o’er me prevailed;

Too soon my heartless spirit failed;

When you were gone my limbs were stronger,

And Oh how grievously I rue,

That, afterwards, a little longer,

My friends, I did not follow you!

For strong and without pain I lay,

My friends, when you were gone away.

My child! they gave thee to another,

A woman who was not thy mother.

When from my arms my babe they took,

On me how strangely did he look!

Through his whole body something ran,

A most strange something did I see;

— As if he strove to be a man,

That he might pull the sledge for me.

And then he stretched his arms, how wild!

Oh mercy! like a little child.

My little joy! my little pride!

In two days more I must have died.

Then do not weep and grieve for me;

I feel I must have died with thee.

Oh wind that o’er my head art flying,

The way my friends their course did bend,

I should not feel the pain of dying,

Could I with thee a message send.

Too soon, my friends, you went away;

For I had many things to say.

I’ll follow you across the snow,

You travel heavily and slow:

In spite of all my weary pain,

I’ll look upon your tents again.

My fire is dead, and snowy white

The water which beside it stood;

The wolf has come to me to-night,

And he has stolen away my food.

For ever left alone am I,

Then wherefore should I fear to die?

My journey will be shortly run,

I shall not see another sun,

I cannot lift my limbs to know

If they have any life or no.

My poor forsaken child! if I

For once could have thee close to me,

With happy heart I then should die,

And my last thoughts would happy be.

I feel my body die away,

I shall not see another day.

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In distant countries I have been,

And yet I have not often seen

A healthy man, a man full grown,

Weep in the public roads alone.

But such a one, on English ground,

And in the broad highway, I met;

Along the broad highway he came,

His cheeks with tears were wet.

Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad;

And in his arms a lamb he had.

He saw me, and he turned aside,

As if he wished himself to hide:

Then with his coat he made essay

To wipe those briny tears away.

I follow’d him, and said, “My friend

What ails you? wherefore weep you so?”

—”Shame on me, Sir! this lusty lamb,

He makes my tears to flow.

To-day I fetched him from the rock;

He is the last of all my flock.”

When I was young, a single man,

And after youthful follies ran.

Though little given to care and thought,

Yet, so it was, a ewe I bought;

And other sheep from her I raised,

As healthy sheep as you might see,

And then I married, and was rich

As I could wish to be;

Of sheep I numbered a full score,

And every year increas’d my store.

Year after year my stock it grew,

And from this one, this single ewe,

Full fifty comely sheep I raised,

As sweet a flock as ever grazed!

Upon the mountain did they feed;

They throve, and we at home did thrive.

— This lusty lamb of all my store

Is all that is alive;

And now I care not if we die,

And perish all of poverty.

Six children, Sir! had I to feed,

Hard labour in a time of need!

My pride was tamed, and in our grief,

I of the parish ask’d relief.

They said I was a wealthy man;

My sheep upon the mountain fed,

And it was fit that thence I took

Whereof to buy us bread:

”Do this; how can we give to you,”

They cried, “what to the poor is due?”

I sold a sheep as they had said,

And bought my little children bread,

And they were healthy with their food;

For me it never did me good.

A woeful time it was for me,

To see the end of all my gains,

The pretty flock which I had reared

With all my care and pains,

To see it melt like snow away!

For me it was a woeful day.

Another still! and still another!

A little lamb, and then its mother!

It was a vein that never stopp’d,

Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp’d.

Till thirty were not left alive

They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,

And I may say that many a time

I wished they all were gone:

They dwindled one by one away;

For me it was a woeful day.

To wicked deeds I was inclined,

And wicked fancies cross’d my mind,

And every man I chanc’d to see,

I thought he knew some ill of me.

No peace, no comfort could I find,

No ease, within doors or without,

And crazily, and wearily

I went my work about.

Ofttimes I thought to run away;

For me it was a woeful day.

Sir! ‘twas a precious flock to me,

As dear as my own children be;

For daily with my growing store

I loved my children more and more.

Alas! it was an evil time;

God cursed me in my sore distress,

I prayed, yet every day I thought

I loved my children less;

And every week, and every day,

My flock, it seemed to melt away.

They dwindled. Sir, sad sight to see!

From ten to five, from five to three,

A lamb, a weather, and a ewe;

And then at last, from three to two;

And of my fifty, yesterday

I had but only one,

And here it lies upon my arm,

Alas! and I have none;

To-day I fetched it from the rock;