10

O life! is all thy song

"Endure and-die"?

PEACE! WHAT DO TEARS AVAIL

1832

Peace! what do tears avail?

She lies all dumb and pale,

And from her eye

The spirit of lovely life is fading,

And she must die!

Some weight of thought, though loath

On thee he leaves;

Some lines of care round both

Perhaps he weaves;

Some fears,-a soft regret
For joys scarce known;

braiding?

Reply, reply!

20

All else is flown.

INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN
Rest! This little fountain runs
Thus for aye:-It never stays
For the look of summer suns,
Nor the cold of winter days.
Whosoe'er shall wander near,

When the Syrian heat is worst,
Let him hither come, nor fear

Lest he may not slake his thirst:
He will find this little river
10 Running still, as bright as ever.
Let him drink, and onward hie,
Bearing but in thought, that I,
Erotas, bade the Naiad fall,
And thank the great god Pan for all!

A PETITION TO TIME
1850

Touch us gently, Time!
Let us glide adown thy stream
Gently, as we sometimes glide
Through a quiet dream.

5 Humble voyagers are we,
Husband, wife, and children three-
(One is lost, an angel, fled

To the azure overhead.)

10

HARTLEY COLERIDGE

(1796-1849)

SONG

1833

She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be,
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smil'd on me;

5 Oh! then I saw her eye was bright, A well of love, a spring of light.

But now her looks are coy and cold, To mine they ne'er reply,

And yet I cease not to behold

The love-light in her eye: Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are.

AN OLD MAN'S WISH
1833

I have lived, and I have loved,

Have lived and loved in vain;
Some joys, and many woes have proved,
That may not be again;

5 My heart is cold, my eye is sere,
Joy wins no smile, and grief no tear.

Fain would I hope, if hope I could,
If sure to be deceived,

There's comfort in a thought of good,
Tho' 'tis not quite believed;

For sweet is hope's wild warbled air,
But, oh! its echo is despair.

WHITHER IS GONE THE WISDOM AND
THE POWER
1833

Whither is gone the wisdom and the power That ancient sages scatter'd with the notes Of thought-suggesting lyres? The music

floats

In the void air, e'en at this breathing hour, 5 In every cell and every blooming bower The sweetness of old lays is hovering still: But the strong soul, the self-constraining will,

The rugged root that bare the winsome

flower

Is weak and wither'd. Were we like the Fays

ing,

And the small matin2 birds were glad and shrill

5 Some hours ago; but now the woodland rill Murmurs along, the only vocal thing, Save when the wee wren flits with stealthy wing,

And cons by fits and bits her evening trill. Lovers might sit on such a morn as this 10 An hour together, looking at the sky,

Nor dare to break the silence with a kiss,
Long listening for the signal of a sigh;
And the sweet Nun, diffused in voiceless
prayer,

Feel her own soul through all the brooding
air.

By fires far fiercer than are blown to prove.
And purge the silver ore adulterate.
She sat and wept, and with her untress'd
hair

10 Still wip'd the feet she was so bless'd to touch;

10

And He wip'd off the soiling of despair From her sweet soul, because she lov'd so

much.

I am a sinner, full of doubts and fears: Make me a humble thing of love and tears.

HOMER 1850

Far from the sight of earth, yet bright and plain

As the clear noon-day sun, an "orb of song"

Lovely and bright is seen, amid the throng Of lesser stars, that rise and wax and wane, 5 The transient rulers of the fickle main, One constant light gleams through the dark and long

109

And narrow aisle of memory. How strong, How fortified with all the numerous train Of truths wert thou, great poet of man

kind,

Who told'st in verse as mighty as the sea, And various as the voices of the wind, The strength of passion rising in the glee Of battle. Fear was glorified by thee, And Death is lovely in thy tale enshrined.

PRAYER 1850

There is an awful quiet in the air, And the sad earth, with moist, imploring eye,

Looks wide and wakeful at the pondering

sky,

Like Patience slow subsiding to Despair. 5 But see, the blue smoke as a voiceless

prayer,