Whose day-spring rises glorious in my soul
As the great sun, when he his influence
Sheds on the frost-bound waters-The glad

stream

Flows to the ray, and warbles as it flows.

Warble in shade their wild-wood melody:
Far off the unvarying cuckoo soothes my ear.
Up scour the startling stragglers of the flock
That on green plots o'er precipices browse:
From the deep fissures of the naked rock
The yew tree bursts! Beneath its dark green
boughs

(Mid which the May-thorn blends its blossoms white)

Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats,

I rest

and now have gain'd the topmost site. Ah! what a luxury of landscape meets

My gaze! Proud towers, and cots more dear

to me,

Elm-shadow'd fields, and prospect-bounding sea!

Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop the tear: Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here!

LINES

IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER.

PEACE, that on a lilied bank dost love

To rest thine head beneath an olive

tree,

I would that from the pinions of thy dove
One quill withouten pain ypluck'd might be !
For O! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee,
And fain to her some soothing song would
write,

Lest she resent my rude discourtesy,

Who vow'd to meet her ere the morning

light,

But broke my plighted word-ah! false and recreant wight!

Last night as I my weary head did pillow, With thoughts of my dissever'd Fair engrost, Chill Fancy droop'd wreathing herself with willow,

As though my breast entomb'd a pining ghost.

"From some blest couch, young Rapture's bridal boast,

Rejected slumber! hither wing thy way; But leave me with the matin hour, at most! As night-closed floweret to the orient ray, My sad heart will expand, when I the maid survey."

66

But Love, who heard the silence of my thought,

Contrived a too successful wile, I ween: And whisper'd to himself, with malice fraught

"Too long our slave the damsel's smiles hath seen:

To-morrow shall he ken her alter'd mien !" He spake, and ambush'd lay, till on my bed The morning shot her dewy glances keen, When as I 'gan to lift my drowsy head'Now, Bard! I'll work thee woe!" the laughing Elfin said.

Sleep, softly-breathing god! his downy wing Was fluttering now, as quickly to depart; When twang'd an arrow from Love's mystic string,

With pathless wound it pierced him to the

heart.

Was there some magic in the Elfin's dart? Or did he strike my couch with wizard lance? For straight so fair a form did upwards start (No fairer deck'd the bowers of old romance) That Sleep enamour'd grew, nor moved from his sweet trance!

My Sara came, with gentlest look divine; Bright shone her eye, yet tender was its beam :

I felt the pressure of her lip to mine! Whispering we went, and love was all our theme

Love pure and spotless, as at first, I deem, He sprang from Heaven! Such joys with sleep did 'bide,

That I the living image of my dream

Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sigh'd"O! how shall I behold my Love at eventide!"

July, 1795.

LINES

WRITTEN AT SHURTON BARS, NEAR BRIDGEWATER, SEPTEMBER, 1795, IN ANSWER TO A

LETTER FROM BRISTOL.

"Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems better,
Received from absent friend by way of letter;
For what so sweet can labour'd lays impart
As one rude rhyme warm from a friendly heart?"

ANON.'

OR travels my meandering eye
The starry wilderness on high;
Nor now with curious sight'
I mark the glow-worm, as I pass,

1 Anon.] The verse is probably Coleridge's.
2 Sight.]

An unfortunate substitute for "eye," which

he had just used.

1

Move with "green radiance" through the

grass,

An emerald of light.

O ever present to

my view!

My wafted spirit is with you,

And soothes your boding fears:
I see you all oppress'd with gloom
Sit lonely in that cheerless room—
Ah me! you are in tears!

Beloved woman! did you fly
Chill'd Friendship's dark disliking eye,
Or Mirth's untimely din?
With cruel weight these trifles press
A temper sore with tenderness,
When aches the void within.

But why with sable wand unblest
Should Fancy rouse within my breast
Dim-visaged shapes of dread?
Untenanting its beauteous clay
My Sara's soul has wing'd its way,
And hovers round my head!

I felt it prompt the tender dream,
When slowly sank the day's last gleam;

1 Green radiance.] In a note to the earlier editions of 1796 and 1797, Coleridge informs us that this expression is borrowed from Wordsworth, with whom at the time he was unacquainted. See The Evening Walk, of 1793, fur the lines were afterwards omitted.

"The glowworm's harmless ray,

Toss'd light from hand to hand; while on the ground Small circles of green radiance gleam around."