As water-lilies ripple thy slow stream! Dear native haunts! where Virtue still

is gay,

So shines my Lewti's forehead fair, Gleaming through her sable hair, Image of Lewti I from my mind Depart; for Lewti is not kind.

Where Friendship’s fixed star sheds a

mellowed ray, Where Love a crown of thornless Roses

wears, Where soften'd Sorrow smiles within her

tears ; And Memory, with a Vestal's chaste

employ, Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of

joy! No more your sky-larks melting from the

sight Shall thrill the attuned heart-string with

delightNo more shall deck your pensive Pleas

ures sweet With wreaths of sober hue my evening

seat. Yet dear to Fancy's eye your varied

I saw a cloud of palest hue,

Onward to the moon it passed;
Still brighter and more bright it grew,
With floating colors not a few,

Till it reach'd the moon at last:
Then the cloud was wholly bright,
With a rich and amber light!
And so with many a hope I seek

And with such joy I find my Lewti; And even so my pale wan cheek

Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty ! Nay, treacherous image! leave my

mind, If Lewti never will be kind,

scene

Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook

between ! Yet sweet to Fancy's ear the warbled

song, That soars on Morning's wing your vales

among. Scenes of my Hope! the aching eye ye

leave Like yon bright hues that paint the

clouds of eve ! Tearful and saddening with the saddened

blaze Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful

gaze: Sees shades on shades with deeper tint

impend, Till chill and damp the moonless night descend.

1793. 1796.

The little cloud-it floats away,

Away it goes; away so soon?
Alas! it has no power to stay :
Its hues are dim, its hues are gray

Away it passes from the moon!
How mournfully it seems to fly,

Ever fading more and more,
To joyless regions of the sky--
And now 'tis whiter than before !
As white as my poor cheek will be,

When, Lewti! on my couch I lie,
A dying man for love of thee.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my

mindAnd yet, thou didst not look unkind.

I saw a vapor in the sky.

Thia, and white, and very high ; I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud:

Perbaps the breezes that can fly

Now below and row above,
Have snatched aloft the lawny shroud

Of Lady fair-that died for love.
For maids, as well as youths, have

perished From fruitless love too fondly cherished. Nay, treacherous image! leave my

mindFor Lewti nerer will be kind.

LEWTI

OR THE CIRCASSIAN LOVE-CHANT

At midnight by the stream I roved,
To forget the form I lored.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
The Moon was high, the moonlight

gleam
And the shadow of a star
Heaved upon Tamaha's stream:

But the rock shone brighter far, The rock half sheltered from my view By pendent boughs of tressy yew.

Hush ! my heedless feet from under

Slip the crumbling banks for ever: Like echoes to a distant thunder,

They plunge into the gentle river. The river-swans have heard my tread,

Ind startle from their reedy ed. O beauteous birds ! methinks ye measure Your movements to some heavenly O beauteous birds ! 'tis such a pleasure

To see you move beneath the moon,
I would it were your true delight
To sleep by day and wake all night.
I know the place where Lewti lies
When silent night has closed her eyes :

It is a breezy jasmine-bower,
The nightingale sings o'er her head :

Voice of the Night! had I the power
That leafy labyrinth to thread,
And creep, like thee, with soundless

tread,
I then might view her bosom white
Heaving lovely to my siglit,
As these two swans together heave
On the gently-swelling wave.
Oh! that she saw me in a dream,

And dreamt that I had died for care ; All pale and wasted I would seem

Yet fair witbal, as spirits are ! I'd die indeed, if I might see Her bosom heave, and heave for me! Soothe, gentle image! soothe my mind! To-morrow Lewti may be kind.

1794. April 13, 1798.

REFLECTIONS ON HAVING LEFT

A PLACE OF RETIREMENT

Sermoni propriora.-HOR. Low was our pretty Cot: our tallest rose Peeped at the chamber-window, We

could hear At silent noon, and eve, and early morn, The sea's faint murmur.

In the open air Our myrtles blossom’d; and across the

porch Thick jasmines twined: the little landWas green and woody, and refreshed It was a spot which you might aptly

call The Valley of Seclusion! Once I saw (Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quietness) A wealthy son of commerce saunter by, Bristowa's citizen: methought, it calmed His thirst of idle gold, and made him

scape round

the eye.

muse

LA FAYETTE

With wiser feelings: for he paused, and

looked With a pleased sadness, and gazed all

around, Then eyed our Cottage, and gazed round

again, And sighed, and said, it was a Blessed

Place. And we were blessed. Oft with patient

ear

note

As when far off the warbled strains are

heard That soar on Morning's wing the vales

among ; Within his cage the imprisoned matin

bird Swells the full chorus with a generous

song : He bathes no pinion in the dewy light, No Father's joy, no Lover's bliss he

shares, Yet still the rising radiance cheers

his sightHis fellows' freedom soothes the cap

tive's cares! Thou, FAYETTE! who didst wake with

startling voice Life's better sun from that long win

try night, Thus in thy Country's triumphs shalt

rejoice And mock with raptures high the dun.

geon's might: For lo ! the morning struggles into day, And Slavery's spectres shriek and vanish from the ray!

1794. Recamber 15, 1794.

Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's (Viewless, or haply for a moment seen Gleaming on sunny wings) in whispered

tones I've said to my beloved, “Suchi, sweet

girl! The inobtrusive song of Happiness, Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard When the soul seeks to hear; when all

is hushed, And the heart listens !"

But the time, when first From that low dell, steep up the stony

mount I climbed with perilous toil and reached Oh! what a goodly scene! Here the

bleak mount, The bare bleak mountain speckled thin

with sheep; Gray clouds, that shadowing spot the

sunny fields: And river, now with bushy rocks o'er

browed,

the top,

Now winding bright and full, with naked

banks : And seats, and lawns, the abbey and the

wood, And cots, and hamlets, and faint city

spire ; The Channel there, the Islands and white

sails, Dim coasts, and cloud-like hills and

shoreless Ocean It seem like Omnipresence! God, me

thought, Had built him there a Temple: the

whole World Stemed imaged in its vast circumfer

Thy jasmine and thy window-peeping

rose, And myrtles fearless of the mild sea-air. And I shall sigh fond wishes--sweet

abode! Ah !-had none greater ! And that all

had such ! It might be so-but the time is not yet. Speed it, O Father! Let thy Kingdom

come ! 1795. October, 1796.

TIME REAL AND IMAGINARY

AN ALLEGORY

ence:

Nowish profaned my overwhelmed heart. Blest hour! It was a luxury,--to be!

Ali! quiet dell! dear cot, and mount

sublime! I was constrained to quit you. Was it

right, While my umnumbered brethren toiled

and bled, That I should dream away the entrusted

hours On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward

beart With feelings all too delicate for use? Sweet is the tear that from some How

On the wide level of a mountain's head, (I knew not where, but itsvas some

faery place) Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails out

spread, Two lovely children run an endless race,

A sister and a brother!

This far outstript the other ; Yet ever runs she with reverted face, And looks and listens for the boy be

hind:

For he, alas! is blind! O'er rough and smooth with even ster he

passed, And knows not whether he be first og last.

21... 1817.

ard's eye

TIIIS LIME-TREE BOWER MY

PRISON

Drops on the cheek of one he lifts from

earth: And he that works me good with un

moved face, Does it but half: he chills me while he

aids, My benefactor, not my brother man! Yet even this, thus cold beneficence Praise, praise it, O my Soul ! oft as thou

scann'st The sluggard Pity's vision-weaving tribe! Who sigh for wretchedness, yet shun

the wretchell, Nursing in some delicious solitude Their slothful loves and dainty sym

pathies! I therefore go, and join head, heart, and

hand, Active and firm, to fight the bloodless

fight Of science, freedom, and the truth in

Christ.

Yet oft when after honorable toil
Rests the tiredd mind, and waking loves

to dream,
My spirit shall revisit thee, dear Cot!

Had dimmed mine eyes to blindness!

They, meanwhile, Friends, whom I never more may meet

again, On springy heath, along the hill-top

edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down,

perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told ; The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow,

deep, And only speckled by the mid-day sun; Where its slim trunk the ash from rock

to rock Flings arching like a bridge ;-that

branchless ash, Unsunned and damp, whose few poor

yellow leaves Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble

still, Fanned by the water-fall! and there my

friends Behold the dark green file of long lank

weeds, That all at once (a most fantastic sight!) Still nod and drip beneath the dripping

edge Of the blue clay-stone.

Now, my friends emerge Beneath the wide wide Heaven--and

view again The many-steepled tract magnificent Of hilly fields and meadows, and the

sea, With some fair bark, perhaps, whose

sails light up The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt

two Isles Of purple shadow! Yes! they wander

And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my

friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I

have stood, Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing

round On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth

seem Less gross than bodily ; and of such

hues As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet

he makes Spirits perceive his presence.

A delight Comes sudden on my heart, and I am

glad As I myself were there! Nor in this

bower, This little lime-tree bower, have I not

marked Much that has soothed me. Pale beneath

the blaze Hung the transparent foliage; and I

watched Some broad and sunny leaf, and loved to

see

on

In gladness all ; but thou, methinks,

most glad, My gentle-hearted Charles ! for thou hast

pined And hungered after Nature, many a

year, In the great City pent, winning thy way With sad yet patient soul, through evil

and pain And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious

Sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking

orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn,

ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant

groves!

The shadow of the leaf and stem above, Dappling its sunshine! And that wal

nut-tree Was richly tinged, and a deep radiance

lay Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Those fronting elms, and now, with

blackest mass Makes their dark branches gleama lighter

hue Through the late twilight: and though

now the bat Wheels silent by, and not a swallow

twitters, Yet still the solitary humble-bee Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I

shall know That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and

pure ; No plot so narrow, be but Nature there. No waste so vacant, but may well

employ Each faculty of sense, and keep the

heart Awake to Love and Beauty! and some.

times "Tis well to be bereft of promised good, That we may lift the soul, and contem

plate With lively joy the joys we cannot

share. My gentle-hearted Charles ! when the mind, the Author has frequently purposed to finish for himself what had been originally, as it were, given to him, Auplov ädlov áow, but the to-morrow is yet to come. (Coleridge's note, 1816.)

Beat its straight path along the dusky

air Homewards, I blest it! deeming, its

black wing (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in

light) Had cross'd the mighty orb's dilated

glory, While thou stood'st gazing; or when all

was still, Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a

charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to

whom No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.

1797. 1800.

KUBLA KHAN

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled

round: And here were gardens bright with

sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bear

ing tree; And here were forests ancient as the

hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. But oh! that deep romantic chasm

whiclı slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn

cover ! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon

hauntej By woman wailing for her demon-lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless

turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were

breathing, A mighty fountain momently

forced : Amid whoseswift half-intermitted burst Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding

hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's

flail: And 'mid these dancing rocks at once

and ever It flung up inomently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy

motion Through wood and dale the sacred river

lan, Then reached the caverns measureless to

man, And savk in tumult to a lifeless ocean : And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from

far
Ancestral voices prophesying war !

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where' was heard the mingled

measure
From the fountain and the caves,
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !

In the summer of the year 1797, the Author, then in ill health, had retired to a lonely farm. house between Porlock and Linton, on the Ex!noor confines of Somerset and Devonshire. In consequence of a slight indisposition, an anodyne had been prescribed, from the effects of which he fell asleep in his chair at the moment that he was reading the following sentence, or words of the same substance, in Purchas's" Pilgrimage": “ Here the Khan Kubla commanded a palace to be built, and a stately garden thereunto. And thus ten miles of fertile ground were inclosed with a wall." The Author continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence, that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines; if that indeed can be called composition in which all the images rose up before him as things, with a parallel production of the corre. spondent expressions, without any sensation or consciousness of effort. On awaking he appeared to himself to have a distinct recollection of the whole, and taking his pen, ink, and paper, instantly and eagerly wrote down the lines that are here preserved. At this moment he was unfortunately called out by a person on business from Porlock, and detained by him above an hour, and on his return to his room, found, to his no sinall surprise and mortification, that though he still retained some vague and dim recollection of the general purport of the vision, yet, with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away, like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone has been cast, but, alas! without the after restoration of the latter,

Then all the charm Is broken-all that phantom-world so fair Vanishes, cad a thousand circlets spread, And each mis-shapes the other. Stay awhile, Poor youth! who scarcely dar'st lift up thine

eyes-The stream will soon renew its smoothness, soon The visions will return! And lo, he stays, And soon the fragments dim of lovely forms Come trembling back, unite, and now once The pool becomes a mirror.

(From The Picture ; or, the Lover's Resolution)

Yet from the still surviving recollections in his

was

more