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ib. THE PICCOLOMINI, OR THE FIRST PART
OF WALLENSTEIN; a Drama, trans-
Tell's Birth-place-imitated from Stolberg 53
Human Life, on the Denial of Immortality ib.
The Visit of the Gods-imitated from
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER 60
REMORSE; a Tragedy, in Five Acts
Duty surviving Self-love, the only Sure
Friend of Declining Life; a Soliloquy. 213
Phantom or Fact? a Dialogue in Verse ib.
To a Lady, offended by a sportive observa-
"I have heard of reasons manifold". . .
Lines suggested by the Last Words of Be-
The Suicide's Argument, and Nature's An-
The Blossoming of the Solitary Date-tree;
Fancy in Nubibus, or the Poet in the
The Two Founts; Stanzas addressed to a
Lady on her recovery, with unblemished
looks, from a severe attack of pain. it
Sonnet, composed by the Sea-side, October,
The Improvisatore, or "John Anderson, my
SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE.
COMPOSITIONS resembling those here collected are not unfrequently condemned for their querulous Erotism. But Egotism is to be condemned then only when it offends against time and place, as in a Hislory or an Epic Poem. To censure it in a Monody or Sonnet is almost as absurd as to dislike a circle for being round. Why then write Sonnets or Monodies? Because they give me pleasure when perhaps nothing else could. After the more violent emotions of Sorrow, the inind demands amusement, and can End it in employment alone: but, full of its late sufferings, it can endure no employment not in some measure connected with them. Forcibly to turn away our attention to general subjects is a painful and most often an unavailing effort.
But 01 how grateful to a wounded heart
From others' eyes bid artless sorrows flow,
Holy be the lay
Which mourning soothes the mourner on his way.
Pleasures of Imagination. disgusting; not that which leads us to communicate There is one species of Egotism which is truly our feelings to others but that which would reduce the feelings of others to an identity with our own The Atheist, who exclaims glances his eye on the praises of Deity, is an Egotist: pshaw!" when he an old man, when he speaks contemptuously of Loveverses, is an Egotist: and the sleek Favorites of Fortune are Egotists, when they condemn all " melancholy, discontented" verses. Surely, it would be candid not merely to ask whether the poem pleases ourselves, but to consider whether or no there may not be others, to whom it is well calculated to give an innocent pleasure.
The communicativeness of our Nature leads us to describe our own sorrows; in the endeavor to describe them, intellectual activity is exerted; and for intellectual activity there results a pleasure, jects, which he reads at one time and under the inwhich is gradually associated, and mingles as a cor- fluence of one set of feelings, were written at differ
I shall only add, that each of my readers will, I hope, remember, that these Poems on various sub
tive, with the painful subject of the description. ent times and prompted by very different feelings; "True!" (it may be answered) "but how are the and therefore that the supposed inferiority of one PUBLIC interested in your sorrows or your Descrip- Poem to another may sometimes be owing to the tion?" We are for ever attributing personal Unities temper of mind in which he happens to peruse it. maginary Aggregates. What is the PUBLIC, but a em for a number of scattered individuals? of whom as many will be interested in these sorrows, as have experienced the same or similar.
If I could judge of others by myself, I should not besitate to affirm, that the most interesting passages are those in which the Author develops his own feelings? The sweet voice of Cona* never sounds sweetly, as when it speaks of itself; and I should almost suspect that man of an unkindly heart, who uld read the opening of the third book of the Paradise Lost without peculiar emotion. By a Law of our Nature, he, who labors under a strong feeling, is
impelled to seck for sympathy; but a Poet's feelings are all strong. Quicquid amet valde amat. Akenside therefore speaks with philosophical accuracy when he classes Love and Poetry, as producing the same effects:
Love and the wish of Poets when their tongue
My poems have been rightly charged with a pro fusion of double-epithets, and a general turgidness I have pruned the double-epithets with no sparing hand; and used my best efforts to tame the swell and glitter both of thought and diction.* This latter
Without any feeling of anger, I may yet be allowed to express some degree of surprise, that after having run the critical gauntlet for a certain class of faults, which I had, viz. a too ornate and elaborately poetic diction, and nothing having come before the judgment-seat of the Reviewers during the long interval, I should for at least seventeen years, quarter after quarter, have been placed by them in the foremost rank ridicule for faults directly opposite, viz. bald and prosaic lanof the proscribed, and made to abide the brunt of abuse and guage, and an affected simplicity both of matter and manner -faults which assuredly did not enter into the character of my compositions.-Literary Life, i 51. Published 1817
fault however had insinuated itself into my Religious
This far outstript the other;
I expect neither profit nor general fame by my writings; and I consider myself as having been amply repaid without either. Poetry has been to me its own "exceeding great reward:" it has soothed my afflictions; it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments; it has endeared solitude: and it has given me the habit of wishing to discover the Good and the Beautiful in all that meets and surrounds me. S. T. C.
MAID of my Love, sweet Genevieve!
TO THE AUTUMNAL MOON.
MILD Splendor of the various-vested Night!
And when thou lovest thy pale orb to shroud
TIME, REAL AND IMAGINARY.
On the wide level of a mountain's head
MONODY ON THE DEATH OF
O WHAT a wonder seems the fear of death,
Away, Grim Phantom! Scorpion King, away
Thee, Chatterton! these unblest stones protect
Yet oft, perforce ('t is suffering Nature's call,)
Now indignation checks the feeble sigh,
Or flashes through the tear that glistens in mine eye
Is this the land of song-ennobled line?
Is this the land, where Genius ne'er in vain
Sublime of thought, and confident of fame,
How dauntless Ælla fray'd the Dacian foe;
And now his cheeks with deeper ardors flame,
Ah' where are fled the charms of vernal Grace,
Such were the struggles of the gloomy hour,
When near thee stood Affection meek
(Her bosom bare, and wildly pale her cheek,) Thy sullen gaze she bade thee roll On scenes that well might melt thy soul; my native cot she flash d upon thy view,
native cot, where still, at close of day, cace smiling sate, and listen'd to thy lay; Thy Sister's shrieks she bade thee hear, And mark thy Mother's thrilling tear;
See, see her breast's convulsive throe,
Ah! dash the poison'd chalice from thy hand!
Avan, a river near Bristol; the birth-place of Chatterton.
But that Despair and Indignation rose,
Sweet Flower of Hope! free Nature's genial child! And the stern Fate transpierced with viewless dart
Ye woods! that wave o'er Avon's rocky steep,
Who would have praised and loved thee, ere to
Hence, gloomy thoughts! no more my soul shai dwell
On joys that were! No more endure to weigh
O Chatterton! that thou wert yet alive!
Alas vain Phantasies' the fleeting brood