FIRST DRAFTS, EARLY VERSIONS, ETC.
[Vide ante, p. 100]
EFFUSION 35
Clevedon, August 20th, 1795.'
(First Draft)
My pensive SARA! thy soft Cheek reclin'd
Thus on my arm, how soothing sweet it is
Beside our Cot to sit, our Cot o'ergrown
With white-flowr'd Jasmine and the blossom'd myrtle,
(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!)
And watch the Clouds, that late were rich with light,
Slow-sad'ning round, and mark the star of eve
Serenely brilliant, like thy polish'd Sense,
Shine opposite! What snatches of perfume
The noiseless gale from yonder bean-field wafts!
The stilly murmur of the far-off Sea
Tells us of Silence! and behold, my love!
In the half-closed window we will place the Harp,
Which by the desultory Breeze caress'd,
Like some coy maid half willing to be woo'd,
Utters such sweet upbraidings as, perforce,
Tempt to repeat the wrong!
EFFUSION, p. 96. (1797.)
(Second Draft)
My pensive SARA! thy soft Cheek reclin'd
Thus on my arm, most soothing sweet it is
To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o'ergrown
With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd Myrtle (Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!)
And watch the Clouds that, late were rich with light,
1 Now first published from Cottle's MSS. preserved in the Library of Rugby School.
Slow-sadd'ning round, and mark the Star of eve
Serenely brilliant (such should WISDOM be!)
Shine opposite. How exquisite the Scents.
Snatch'd from yon Bean-field! And the world so hush'd! The stilly murmur of the far-off Sea
Tells us of Silence! And that simplest Lute
Plac'd lengthways in the clasping casement, hark!
How by the desultory Breeze caress'd
(Like some coy Maid half-yielding to her Lover)
It pours such sweet Upbraidings, as must needs
Tempt to repeat the wrong. And now it's strings
Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes
Over delicious Surges sink and rise
In aëry voyage, Music such as erst
Round rosy bowers (so Legendaries tell)
To sleeping Maids came floating witchingly
By wand'ring West winds stoln from Faery land;
Where on some magic Hybla MELODIES
Round many a newborn honey-dropping Flower
Footless and wild, like Birds of Paradise,
Nor pause nor perch, warbling on untir'd wing.
And thus, my Love! as on the midway Slope
Of yonder Hill I stretch my limbs at noon
And tranquil muse upon Tranquillity.
Full many a Thought uncall'd and undetain'd
And many idle flitting Phantasies
Traverse my indolent and passive Mind
As wild, as various, as the random Gales
That swell or flutter on this subject Lute.
And what if All of animated Life
Be but as Instruments diversly fram'd
That tremble into thought, while thro' them breathes
One infinite and intellectual Breeze,
And all in diff'rent Heights so aptly hung,
That Murmurs indistinct and Bursts sublime,
Shrill Discords and most soothing Melodies,
Harmonious from Creation's vast concent-
Thus God would be the universal Soul,
40-43 In diff'rent heights, so aptly hung, that all
In half-heard murmurs and loud bursts sublime,
Shrill discords and most soothing melodies,
Raises one great concent-one concent formed,
Thus God, the only universal Soul-
Alternative version, MS. R.
Mechaniz'd matter as th' organic harps
And each one's Tunes be that, which each calls I.
But thy more serious Look a mild Reproof
Darts, O beloved Woman, and thy words
Pious and calm check these unhallow'd Thoughts,
These Shapings of the unregen'rate Soul,
Bubbles, that glitter as they rise and break
On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling Spring:
Thou biddest me walk humbly with my God!
Meek Daughter in the family of Christ.
Wisely thou sayest, and holy are thy words!
Nor may I unblam'd or speak or think of Him,
Th' INCOMPREHENSIBLE! save when with Awe
I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels,
Who with his saving Mercies healed me,
A sinful and most miserable man
Wilder'd and dark, and gave me to possess
PEACE and this Cor. and THEE, my best-belov'd!
RECOLLECTION1
[Vide ante, pp. 53, 48]
As the tir'd savage, who his drowsy frame
Had bask'd beneath the sun's unclouded flame,
Awakes amid the troubles of the air,
The skiey deluge and white lightning's glare,
Aghast he scours before the tempest's sweep,
And sad recalls the sunny hour of sleep!
So tost by storms along life's wild'ring way
Mine eye reverted views that cloudless day,
When by my native brook I wont to rove,
While HOPE with kisses nurs'd the infant LOVE!
Dear native brook! like peace so placidly
Smoothing thro' fertile fields thy current meek-
Dear native brook! where first young POESY
Star'd wildly eager in her noon-tide dream;
1 First published in The Watchman, No. V, April 2, 1796: reprinted in Note 39 (p. 566) of P. W., 1892. The Editor (J. D. Campbell) points out that this poem as printed in The Watchman is made up of lines 71-86 of Lines on an Autumnal Evening (vide ante, p. 53), of lines 2-11 of Sonnet to the River Otter, and of lines 13, 14 of The Gentle Look, and Anna and Harland.
Where blameless Pleasures dimpled Quiet's cheek,
As water-lilies ripple thy slow stream!
How many various-fated years have past,
What blissful and what anguish'd hours, since last
I skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast
Numb'ring its light leaps! Yet so deep imprest
Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes
I never shut amid the sunny blaze,
But strait, with all their tints, thy waters rise,
The crossing plank, and margin's willowy maze,
And bedded sand, that, vein'd with various dyes,
Gleam'd thro' thy bright transparence to the gaze-
Ah! fair tho' faint those forms of memory seem
Like Heaven's bright bow on thy smooth evening stream.
[Add. MSS. 34,225. f. 5. Vide ante, p. 131.]
AUSPICIOUS Reverence! Hush all meaner song,
Till we the deep prelusive strain have pour'd
To the Great Father, only Rightful King,
Eternal Father! king omnipotent;
Beneath whose shadowing banners wide-unfurl'd
Justice leads forth her tyrant-quelling Hosts.
Such Symphony demands best Instrument.
Seize, then, my Soul, from Freedom's trophied dome
The harp which hanging high between the shields
Of Brutus and Leonidas, oft gives
A fitful music, when with breeze-like Touch
Great Spirits passing thrill its wings: the Bard
Listens and knows, thy will to work by Fame.
For what is Freedom, but the unfetter'd use
Of all the powers which God for use had given ?
But chiefly this, him first to view, him last,
Thro' shapes, and sounds, and all the world of sense,
The change of empires, and the deeds of Man
Translucent, as thro' clouds that veil the Light.
But most, O Man! in thine in wasted Sense
And the still growth of Immortality
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