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A light in sound, a sound like power in light,
And thus, my love! as on the midway slope Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon, Whilst through my half-closed eye-lids I behold The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main, And tranquil muse upon tranquillity; Full many a thought uncalled and undetained, And many idle flitting phantasies, , Traverse my indolent and passive brain, As wild and various as the random gales That swell and flutter on this subject lute
And what if all of animated nature
But thy more serious eye a mild reproof
The Incomprehensible ! save when with awe
ON HAVING LEFT A PLACE OF RETIREMENT.
Peeped at the chamber-window. We could
hear At silent noon, and eve, and early morn, The sea's faint murmur. In the
air Our myrtles blossomed ; and across the porch Thick jasmins twined; the little landscape round Was green and woody, and refreshed the eye. It was a spot which you might aptly call The Valley of Seclusion! Once I saw (Hallowing bis 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 muse 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 Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's note (Viewless, or haply for a moment seen
Gleaming on sunny wings) in whispered tones
But the time, when first From that low dell, steep up the stony mount I climbed with perilous toil and reached the top, Oh! what a goodly scene ! Here the bleak mount, The bare bleak mountain speckled thin with sheep: Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields, And river, now with bushy rocks o’erbrowed, 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
OceanIt seemed like Omnipresence! God, methought, Had built him there a temple; the whole World Seemed imaged in its vast circumference, No wish profaned my overwhelmed heart. Blest hour! It was a luxury,—to be!
Ah! quiet dell! dear cot, and mount sublime ! I was constrained to quit you.
Was it right, While my unnumbered brethren toiled and bled, That I should dream away the entrusted hours On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart With feelings all too delicate for use ? Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's eye Drops on the cheek of one he lifts from earth :
And he that works me good with unmoved face,
Yet oft when after honorable toil Rests the tired mind, and waking loves to dream, My spirit shall revisit thee, dear Cot! Thy jasmin 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!
TO THE REV. GEORGE COLERIDGE,
OF OTTERY ST. MARY, DEVON.
WITH SOME POEMS.
Notas in fratres animi paterni.-Hor. Carm. lib. 1. 2. A BLESSED lot hath he, who having passed
His youth and early manhood in the stir And turmoil of the world, retreats at length, With cares that move, not agitate the heart, To the same dwelling where his father dwelt;
And haply views his tottering little ones
To me the Eternal Wisdom hath dispensed A different fortune and more different mindMe from the spot where first I sprang to light Too soon transplanted, ere my soul had fixed Its first domestic loves; and hence through life Chasing chance-started friendships. A brief while Some have preserved me from life's pelting ills ; But, like a tree with leaves of feeble stem, If the clouds lasted, and a sudden breeze Ruffled the boughs, they on my head at once Dropped the collected shower; and some most
false, False and fair foliaged as the Manchineel, Have tempted me to slumber in their shade E'en mid the storm; then breathing subtlest damps, Mixed their own venom with the rain from Heaven, That I woke poisoned ! But, all praise to Him Who gives us all things, more have yielded me Permanent shelter ; and beside one friend, Beneath the impervious covert of one oak, I've raised a lowly shed, and know the names Of husband and of father; not unhearing Of that divine and nightly-whispering voice,