Age faithful to the mother's knee,
Nor of her arms ashamed.
Two lovely Sisters, still and sweet
As flowers, stand side by side;
Their soul-subduing looks might cheat
The Christian of his pride:
Such beauty hath th' Eternal pour'd
Upon them not forlorn,
Though of a lineage once abhorr'd,
Nor yet redeem'd from scorn.
Mysterious safeguard, that, in spite
Of poverty and wrong,
Doth here preserve a living light,
From Hebrew fountains sprung;
That gives this ragged group to cast
Around the dell a gleam
Of Palestine, of glory past,
And proud Jerusalem! 5
Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my cauoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!
Away we go, my Boat and I, -
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.
Away we go; and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scatter'd stars.
Up goes my Boat among the stars
[1828. Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!
INTRODUCTION TO PETER BELL.
THERE'S Something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
For shape just like the crescent-moon.
And now I have a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon:
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But, if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up, and you shall see ine soon!
The woods, my Friends, are round you
Rocking and roaring like a sea; [roaring,
The noise of danger's in your cars,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for little Boat and me!
my
The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull, -
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-hair'd race of Mars,
Cover'd from top to toe with scars:
Such company I like it not!
The towns of Saturn are decay'd,
And melancholy Spectres throng them:
The Pleiads, that appear to kiss
Each other in the vast abyss,
With joy I sail among them,
Swift Mercury resounds with mirth,
Great Jove is full of stately bowers;
But these, and all that they contain,
What are they to that tiny grain,
That little Earth of ours?
5 Coleridge, my daughter, and I, in 1828, passed a fortnight upon the banks of the Rhine. It was at St. Goar that I saw the Jewish family here described. Though exceedingly poor, and in rags, they were not less beautiful than I have endeavoured to make them appear. We had taken a little dinner with us in a basket, and invited them to partake of it; which the mother refused to do, both for herself and See! there she is, the matchless Earth children, saying it was with them a fast- There spreads the famed Pacific Ocean day; adding, diffidently, that, whether Old Andes thrusts yon craggy spear such observances were right or wrong,
Then back to Earth, the dear green Earth:
Whole ages if I here should roam,
The world for my remarks and ine
Would not a whit the better be;
I've left my heart at home.
she felt it her duty to keep them strictly. Through the grey clouds; the Alps are The Jews, who are numerous on this part Like waters in commotion!
of the Rhine, greatly surpass the German
peasantry in the beauty of their features
and in the intelligence of their counte-Yon tawny slip is Libya's sands; nances.Author's Notes.
That silver thread the river Dnieper;
And look, where clothed in brightest |"My little vagrant Form of light,
My gay and beautiful Canoe,
Is a sweet Isle, of isles the Queen; [green
Ye fairies, from all evil keep her!
Ne'er in the breast of full-grown Poet
Flutter'd so faint a heart before; -
Was it the music of the spheres
That overpower'd your mortal ears? —
Such din shall trouble them no more.
These nether precincts do not lack
Well have you play'd your friendly part;
As kindly take what from my heart
Experience forces, - then adieu!
Temptation lurks among your words;
But, while these pleasures you're pursu
Without impediment or let,
No wonder if you quite forget
What on the Earth is doing.
There was a time when all mankind
Did listen with a faith sincere
Po tuneful tongues in mystery versed;
Then Pocts fearlessly rehearsed
The wonders of a wild carcer.
Go, (but the world's a sleepy world,
And 'tis, I fear, an age too late,)
Take with you some ambitious Youth;
For, restless Wanderer, I, in truth,
Am all unfit to be your mate.
Long have I loved what I behold,
The night that calms, the day that cheers;
The common growth of mother Earth
Suffices me, her tears, her mirth,
Charms of their own: then come with me; Her humblest mirth and tears.
I want a comrade, and for you
There's nothing that I would not do;
Nought is there that you shall not see.
Prompt voyage shall to you reveal
The might of magic lore!"
The dragon's wing, the magic ring,
I shall not covet for my dower,
If I along that lowly way
With sympathetic heart may stray,
And with a soul of power.
These given, what more need I desire
To stir, to soothe, or elevate?
What nobler marvels than the mind
May in life's daily prospect find,
May find or there create?
A potent wand doth Sorrow wield;
What spell so strong as guilty Fear?
Repentance is a tender Sprite;
If aught on Earth have heavenly might,
'Tis lodged within her silent tear."
But grant my wishes, -let us now
Descend from this ethereal height;
Then take thy way, adventurous Skiff,
6 This and the three preceding stanza convey, as well perhaps as any thing of equal length can do it, the author's poeti
How Earth and Heaven are taught to feel cai creed. They form a little poem by
themselves,-perfect in its way.
Off flew the Boat,-away she flees,
Spurning her freight with indignation!
And I, as well as I was able,
On two poor legs, toward my stone-table
Limp'd on with sore vexation.
"O, here he is!" cried little Bess,-
She saw me at the garden-door:
"We've waited anxiously and long,"
They cried, and all around me throng,
Full nine of them or more.
"Reproach me not,-your fears be still,
Be thankful we again have met: Resume, my Friends, within the shade Your seats, and quickly shall be paid The well-remember'd debt."
I spake with faltering voice, like one
Not wholly rescued from the pale
Of a wild dream, or worse illusion;
But, straight, to cover my confusion,
Began the promised Tale.
ALL by the moonlight river-side
Groan'd the poor Beast,-alas! in vain;
The staff was raised to loftier height,
And the blows fell with heavier weight
As Peter struck, and struck again.
Who Peter was, let that be told, And start from the beginning."
A Potter, Sir, he was by trade,
Said I, becoming quite collected;
And wheresoever he appeared
Full twenty times was Peter fear'd
For once that Peter was respected.
He, two-and-thirty years or more,
Had been a wild and woodland rover;
Had heard th' Atlantic surges roar
On farthest Cornwall's rocky shore,
And trod the cliffs of Dover.
And he had seen Caernarvon's towers, And well he knew the spire of Sarum;' And he had been where Lincoln bell Flings o'er the fen that ponderous knell,A far-renown'd alarum!
At Doncaster, at York, and Leeds,
And merry Carlisle had he been;
And all along the Lowlands fair,
All through the bonny shire of Ayr•
And far as Aberdeen.
8 Sarum is an old contraction of Salisbury. The spire of Salisbury Cathedral is considered the finest in England. I think it is also the highest. Caernarvon is
"Hold!" cried the Squire, "against the a seaport on the strait of Menai in the
Of common sense you're surely sinning; This leap is for us all too bold:
north-west corner of Wales.
9 Scar, sometimes spelt scaur, is a bare and broken place on a side of a mountain, or in the high bank of a river.
In vain, through water, earth, and air,
The soul of happy sound was spread,
When Peter on some April morn,
Beneath the broom or budding thorn,
Made the warm earth his lazy bed.
At noon, when by the forest's edge
He lay beneath the branches high,
The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witchery of the soft blue sky!
On a fair prospect some have look'd
And felt, as I have heard them say,
As if the moving time had been
A thing as steadfast as the scene
On which they gazed themselves away.
Within the breast of Peter Bell
These silent raptures found no place:
He was a Carl as wild and rude
As ever hue-and-cry pursued,
As ever ran a felon's race.
Of all that lead a lawless life,
Of all that love their lawless lives,
In city or in village small,
He was the wildest far of all;-
He had a dozen wedded wives.
1 The Fleet is the name of one of the old London prisons. It seems to have been specially used for confining insolveut debtors.
Nay, start not! - wedded wives, and twelve! [him, But how one wife could e'er come near In simple truth I cannot tell;
For, be it said of Peter Beli,
To see him was to fear him.
Though Nature could not touch his heart
By lovely forms, and silent weather,
And tender sounds, yet you might see
At once, that Peter Bell and she
Had often been together.
A savage wildness round him hung
As of a dweller out of doors;
In his whole figure and his mien
A savage character was scen
Of mountains and of dreary moors.
To all th' unshaped half-human thoughts
Which solitary Nature feeds
'Mid summer storms or Winter's ice,
Had Peter join'd whatever vice
The cruel city breeds.
His face was keen as is the wind
That cuts along the hawthorn-fence;
Of courage you saw little there,
But, in its stead, a medley air
Of cunning and of impudence.
He had a dark and sidelong walk,
And long and slouching was his gait;
Beneath his looks so bare and bold,
You might perceive, his spirit cold
Was playing with some inward bait.
His forehead wrinkled was and furr'd;
A work, one half of which was done
By thinking of his whens and hows;
And half, by knitting of his brows
Beneath the glaring Sun.
There was a hardness in his cheek,
There was a hardness in his eye,
As if the man had fix'd his face,
In many a solitary place,
Against the wind and open sky! 2
2 The poem of Peter Bell, though good enough in itself, is not so well suited as many others are to the purpose of this volume; while, from its length, it would occupy more room than can well be spared for a piece of that kind. No apology, I think, will be required for including the Prologue and the description of the hero. The poem was published in 1819, but was written as early as 1798
|