208 VERSES INSCRIBED ON A PAIR OF SCREENS. And tried Affection still be by, Love's watchful ear and anxious eye; And Sport and Laughter hither move, To bless the cot the Muses love! TO MRS. A. You whose clear life, one fair, well-ordered day, In whom the eye of Malice never spied Aught she could wish to spread, or you to hide, Whose looks with words accord, and word with deed, Receive the only screen you e'er can need! TO MR. S. T. COLERIDGE: 1797. MIDWAY the hill of science, after steep And rugged paths that tire the' unpractised feet, And filled with strange enchantment :-dubious shapes Of youthful ardour to eternal chase. Dreams hang on every leaf: unearthly forms Glide through the gloom; and mystic visions swim Far into vacant space, huge shadows stretch, Obvious to sight and touch, all glowing round, 1 With filmy net, most like the autumnal webs Of generous enterprise; and palsy hope And fair ambition with the chilling touch Of sickly hesitation and blank fear. Nor seldom Indolence these lawns among Fixes her turf-built seat; and wears the garb In dreamy twilight of the vacant mind, Soothed by the whispering shade; for soothing soft The shades; and vistas lengthening into air, With moonbeam rainbows tinted.-Here each mind Of finer mould, acute and delicate, In its high progress to eternal truth. Rests for a space, in fairy bowers entranced; And matter's cumbrous shapings. Youth beloved Not in the maze of metaphysic lore, Build thou thy place of resting! lightly tread And be this Circe of the studious cell Enjoyed, but still subservient. Active scenes Shall soon with healthful spirit brace thy mind; And fair exertion, for bright fame sustained, For friends, for country, chase each spleen-fed fog That blots the wide creation. Now Heaven conduct thee with a parent's love! PEACE AND SHEPHERD. Low in a deep sequestered vale, Whence Alpine heights ascend, Her olive garland drops with gore; Her scattered tresses torn, Her bleeding breast, her bruised feet, Bespeak a maid forlorn. "From bower, and hall, and palace driven, To these lone wilds I flee; My name is Peace,-I love the cot; O Shepherd, shelter me!" |