« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
And this hath now his heart,
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little Actor cons another part;
Were endless imitation.
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
O joy! that in our embers
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
For that which is most worthy to be blest;
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Hence in a season of calm weather
Our Souls have sight of that immortal ses
Can in a moment travel thither,
Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
What though the radiance which was once so bright The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
Which having been must ever be;
In the faith that looks through death,
Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
OR GROWTH OF A POET'S MIND;
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL POEM.
"Several years ago, when the Author retired to his native mountains with the hope of being enabled to construct a literary work that might live, it was a reasonable thing that he should take a review of his own mind, and examine how far Nature and Education had qualified him for such an employment.
"As subsidiary to this preparation, he undertook to record, in verse, the origin and progress of his own powers, as far as he was acquainted with them.
"That work, addressed to a dear friend, most distinguished for his knowledge and genius, and to whom the Author's intellect is deeply indebted, has been long finished; and the result of the investigation which gave rise to it, was a determination to compose a philosophical Poem, containing views of Man, Nature, and Society, and to be entitled the 'Recluse;' as having for its principal subject the sensations and opinions of a poet living in retirement.
"The preparatory poem is biographical, and conducts the history of the Author's mind to the point when he was emboldened to hope that his faculties were sufficiently matured for entering upon the arduous labour which he had proposed to himself; and the two works have the same kind of relation to each other, if he may so express himself, as the Ante-chapel has to the body of a Gothic church. Continuing this allusion, he may be permitted to add, that his minor pieces, which have been long before the public, when they shall be properly arranged, will be found by the attentive reader to have such connection with the main work as may give them
claim to be likened to the little cells, oratories, and sepulchral recesses, ordinarily included in those edifices Such was the Author's language in the year 1814.
It will thence be seen, that the present Poera was intended to be introductory to the RECLUSE, and that the RECLUSE, if completed, would have consisted of Three Parts. Of these, the Secord Part alone, viz., the EXCURSION, was finished, and given to the world by the Author.
The First Book of the First Part of the RECLUSE still remains in manuscript; but tur Third Part was only planned. The materials of which it would have been formed have, however, been incorporated, for the most part, in te Author's other Publications, written subsequently to the EXCURSION.
The Friend, to whom the present Poem is addressed, was the late SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, who was resident in Malta, for the restoration of his health, when the greater part of it was com posed.
Mr. Coleridge read a considerable portion of the Poem while he was abroad; and his feelings on hearing it recited by the Author (after return to his own country), are recorded in La Verses, addressed to Mr. Wordsworth, which will be found in the "Sibylline Leaves," p. 197, el 1817, or "Poetical Works, by S. T. Coleridg"," vol. i., p. 206.-ED.
O THERE is blessing in this gentle breeze, | A visitant that while it fans my cheek
Duth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings
To none more grateful than to me; escaped
What dwelling shall receive me? in what vale
I look about; and should the chosen guide
Dear Liberty! Yet what would it avail E.: for a gift that consecrates the joy?
Days of sweet leisure, taxed with patient thought
Thus far, O Friend! did I, not used to make
Pour forth that day my soul in measured strains
Internal echo of the imperfect sound;
Content and not unwilling now to give
A respite to this passion, I paced on
For L methought, while the sweet breath of I gazed with growing love, a higher power
Was blowing on my body, felt within
A correspondent breeze, that gently moved
Than Fancy gave assurance of some work