The Poetical Works of Samuel T. Coleridge. Edited, with a critical memoir, by William Michael Rossetti. Illustrated by Thomas Seccombe

Front matter

ft THE POETICAL WORKS OF SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE si ) \ d "Sis ffe^\ : F. A\OXOfJ pO^doTJOVER^pT^ElET THE POETICAL WORKS OF SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE EDITED, WITH A CRITICAL MEMOIR, BY WILLIAM MICHAEL ROSSETTI. ILLUSTRATED BY THOMAS SEC COMBE. LONDON : E. MOXON, SON, & CO., DOVER STREET, AND I AMEN CORNER, PATERNOSTER ROW. CONTENTS. PAGE Prefatory Notice by W. M. Rossetti . . ix Preface to Miscellaneous Works .... xxix The Rime of the Ancient Mariner .... I Christabel . ...... 18 The Three Graves . 33 First Advent of Love . .... 41 Time, Real and Imaginary. An Allegory . . 41 To a Young Ass ; its Mother being tethered near it . 42 Monody on the Death of Chatterton ... 42 Sonnet. — "Not always should the tear's ambrosial dew " 46 Sonnet. — "Not Stanhope ! with the patriot's doubtful name" 46 Sonnet. — To the Autumnal Moon . . _ . . 47 Sonnet.— To the Author of "The Robbers" . . 47 Religious Musings ; A Desultory Poem ... 47 The Destiny of Nations.

A Vision . . . 57 Ode to the Departing Year .... 68 France. An Ode . . . • • 71 Fears in Solitude ...•■• CONTENTS. 6 PAGE Fire, Famine, and Slaughter. A War Eclogue . . 79 The Devil's Thoughts ..... 88 Kubla Khan ; or, A Vision in a Dream. A Fragment . 90 Lewti ; or, The Circassian Love-Chaunt ... 92 Love ...... 94 The Picture ; or, The Lover's Resolution . - . , 97 Lines Composed in a Concert-Room . . . 101 Answer to a Child's Question . . . ,102 To a Young Lady, on her Recovery from a Fever . 102 Introduction to the Tale of the Dark Ladie . , 102 The Ballad of the Dark Ladie. A Fragment . 103 Something Childish, but very Natural . . . 105 The Visionary Hope ..... 105 The Happy Husband ..... 106 The Pang more Sharp than all . . . .106 The Eolian Harp ...... 108 To a Friend who had Declared his Intention of Writing no more Poetry ..... 109 " This lime-tree bower my prison " . . . no Frost at Midnight . . . . . .112 The Nightingale.

A Conversation Poem . . . 113 Lines Written in the Album at Elbingerode, in the Hartz Forest . . . . . .116 Hymn before Sun-rise, in the Vale of Chamouni . . 117 To William Wordsworth . . . . .119 Inscription for a Fountain on a Heath . . .121 Sonnet to a Friend . ..... 122 Ode to Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire . . 122 Epitaph on an Infant ..... 124 Hymn to the Earth. Hexameters . . . i2c Ode to Tranquillity . . . . .126 CONTENTS. 7 PAGE Catullian Hendecasyllables .... 127 Dejection. An Ode ... , 127 The Knight's Tomb ... .so Metrical Feet. Lesson for a Boy . . . .1-0 A Child's Evening Prayer . . . , .131 Complaint — Reproof . . , , .IT Psyche • • . . . .132 An Ode to the Rain ..... 132 A Day Dream .... . 134 The Pains of Sleep 134 Human Life, on the Denial of Immortality . . 136 Youth and Age ... . 136 The Exchange . . . , . .137 To a Lady ..... .

Part I. It

is an ancient Mariner, An ancient And he stoppeth one of three. meJteth " By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, three gal- Now wherefore stopp'st thou me ? lauts bidden to a wedding The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, detai'neth And I am next of kin ; one The guests are met, the feast is set : May'st hear the merry din." He holds him with his skinny hand, "There was a ship," quoth he. "Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!" Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his glittering eye — The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a'three years' child : The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding-Guestts spell-bound by the eye of the old sea faring man, and con strained to hear his tale. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone : He cannot choose but hear ; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. * See Note.

A i. " The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the light-house top. The Mariner The sun came up upon the left, tells how the Out of the sea came he ! ship sailed A d h h bright, and on the right southward , , . "§. with a good Went down into the sea. wind and fair it "'ached" Higher and higher every day, the line. Till over the mast at noon — " The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud bassoon. The Wed- The bride hath paced into the hall, ding-Guest Re(j as a rose is she ; heareth the Noddmg their heads before her goe3 bridal music; „, to . , , *■*» but the Ma- The merry minstrelsy. riner con tale. The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, Yet he cannot choose but hear ; And thus spake on that ancient man The bright-eyed Mariner.

The ship " And now the storm-blast came, and he drawn by a -\yas tyrannous and strong : stormtoward J , ... , . , . f - the south He struck with his o ertakmg wings, pole. And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold : And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald. The land of And through the drifts the snowy clifts fca'rfuld °f -Di';1 Send a dismal sheen : saundswhere Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken — no living The ice was all between. thing was to c seen. .j.jle jce wag j,ere> (]ie ;ce was (here, The ice was all around : It cracked and growled, and roared and howled.

Like noises in a swound! At length did cross an Albatross, Through the fog it came ; As if it had been a Christian soul, We hailed it in God's name. Till a great sea-bird, called the Al batross,came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality. It ate the food it ne'er had eat, And round and round it flew. The ice did split with a thunder-fit ; The helmsman steered us through ! And a good south wind sprung up behind ; And lo ! the The Albatross did follow, Aroveth a And every day, for food or play, bird of good Came to the mariners' hollo ! omen, and followeth the In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, returned It perched for vespers nine ; northward Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white through fog Glimmered the white moon-shine." ?nd floa»"S ice. " God save thee, ancient Mariner, The ancient From the fiends, that plague thee thus !— Mariner Why look'st thou so?"—" With my cross-bow jc"|i°*nXy I shot the Albatross. pious bird of good omen.

Part II

The Sun now rose upon the right : Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left Went down into the sea. And the good south wind still blew behind, But no sweet bird did follow, Nor any day for food or play Came to the mariners' hollo ! And I had done a hellish thing, nSefc£cv.t And it would work em woe : against the For all averred, I had killed the bird ancient Ma- That made the breeze to blow. j™jj> f°£e Ah wretch ! said they, the bird to slay, birdof good That, made the breeze to blow ! luck. But when the Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, r°s c^fus_ The glorious Sun uprisf : tify the same. Then all averred, I had killed the bird and thus That brought the fog and mist. ™^=s *£em 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, compn'ces in That bring the fog and mist. the crime.

The fair The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew. The furrow followed free ; We were the first that ever burst breeze con tinues ; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line. Into that silent sea. Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 'Twas sad as sad could be ; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea ! The ship hath been suddenly be calmed. All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. And the Al batross be gins to be avenged. Water, water, every where, And all the boards did shrink ; Water, water, every where, Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot : O Christ !

That ever this should be ! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea. About, about, in reel and rout The death-fires danced at night ; The water, like a witch's oils, Burnt green, and blue and white. A Spirit And some in dreams assured were followed Of the Spirit that plagued us so ; theTn'v°s'ibl0s Nine fathom deep he had followed us inhabitants From the land of mist and snow. of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels ; concerning whom the learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic Constnntinopohtan, Michael Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no climate or clement without one or more. And every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root ; We could not speak, no more than if We had been choked with soot. Ah ! well a-day ! what evil looks The ship- J Had I from old and young !

IheirSsore Instead of the cross, the Albatross distress, About my neck was hung. would fain throw the whole guilt on the ancient Mariner: in sign whereof t>»t.t ttt theyhangthe

Part III

dead sea-bird , , round his There passed a weary time. Each throat ncck. Was parched, and glazed each eye. A weary time ! a weary time ! How glazed each weary eye, When looking westward, I beheld The ancient A something in the sky. i1?!'"?1" be~ & J holdeth a sign in the At first it seemed a little speck, element afar And then it seemed a mist ; It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist ! And still it neared and neared : As if it dodged a water-sprite, It plunged and tacked and veered. With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, At its nearer We could nor laugh nor wail ; approach, it Through utter drought all dumb we stood ! seemethh^im I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, and atYdrar And cried, A sail ! a sail ! ransom he freeth his With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, the bonds of Agape they heard me call : thirst.

Gramercy ! they for joy did grin, And all at once their breath drew in, A flash of As they were drinking all. joy ; See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more ! And horror Hither to work us weal,— follows. For Without a breeze, without a tide, SsZs'thaY' She steadies with upright keel ! comes onward without The western wave was all a-flame The day was well nigh done ! Almost upon the western wave Rested the broad bright Sun ; When that strange shape drove suddenly Betwixt us and the Sun. It seemeth Anrl straight the Sun was flecked with bars, him but the (H en's Mother send us grace !) skeleton ol a \ .„ , , , a L . , ship. As if through a dungeon-grate he peered With broad and burning face. Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) How fast she nears and nears ! Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, Like restless gossameres ?

And its ribs Are those her ribs through which the Sun are seen as Did peer, as through a grate ? soe" of"theC And is that Woman a11 her crew ? setting Sun. Is that a Death? and are there two? The Spectre- Is Death that woman's mate ? Woman and mate, and no Her lips were red, her looks were free, other on Her locks were yellow as gold : board the ]Ter s\cm was as "white as leprosy, ship"0"" The Night-mare Life-in-Death was she, Like vessel, Who thicks man's blood with cold. like crew 1 Death and The naked hulk alongside came, TJ'k~ul*i, And the twain were casting dice ; diced forthe ' The game is done ! 1>ve won ! l've w,n ! ship's crew, Quoth she, and whistles thrice. and she (the latter) win- The gun's r;m d; t] . h . neth the . , . . r ,i i i ancient At one stride comes the dark ; Mariner "With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea, No twilight Off shot the spectre-bark. within the courts of the We listened and ]ooked sideways up * Fear at my heart, as at a cup, My life-blood seemed to sip ! ofth^Mooi5 Tl'e stars were dim' and thick the "'S1'**' Tlie steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white ; From the sails the dew did drip — Till clomb above the eastern bar Tlie horned Moon, with one bright star Within the nether tip.

One after one, by the star dogged Moon, One after Too quick for groan or sigh, ' Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, And cursed me with his eye. Four times fifty living men, His ship- (And I heard nor sigh nor groan) downSderad. With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, They dropped down one by uie. The souls did from their bodies fly, — They fled to bliss or woe ! And every soul, it passed me by, Like the whizz of my cross-bow 1 " But Life-in- Death be gins her work on tbe ancient Ma riner.

Part IV

" I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner ! The Wc(j. I fear thy skinny hand ! ding Guest And thou art long, and lank, and brown, se|retl? '.hat As is the ribbed sea-sand.* -jjgj" him. I fear thee and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny hand, so brown." — " Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest ! But the an- This body dropt not down. c.ient Ma" ' * riner assurriner assureth him of Alone, alone, all, all alone, j"? hodi}y Alone on a wide wide sea ! SSfiftSS And never a saint took pity on late his horri- My soul in agony. ble penance. The many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie : And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on ; and so did I. He despiseth the creatures of the calm. I looked upon the rotting sea, And drew my eyes away ; I looked upon the rotting deck, And there the dead men lay.

And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead. I looked to heaven, and tried to pray ; But or ever a prayer had gusht, A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust. I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat ; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet. * For the last two lines of this stanza, I am indebted to Mr. Wordsworth. It was on a delightful walk from Nether Stowey to Dulverton, with him and his sister, in the autumn of 1797, that this poem was planned, and in part composed. s But the curse The cold sweat melted from their limbs, h^'h/th •Nor rot nor reek did they : eye of the The look with which they looked on me dead men. Had never passed away. An orphan's curse would drag to hell A spirit from on high ; But oh ! more horrible than that Is the curse in a dead man's eye !

Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse. And yet I could not die. In his loneli- T!"e moving Moon went up the sky, ness and And no where did abide : fixedness he Softly she was going up, wlXt'he'0" And a star or two beside— journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward ; and every where the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival. Her beams bemocked the sultry main, Like April hoar-frost spread ; But where the ship's huge shadow lay, The charmed water burned away A still and awful red. By the light Beyond the shadow of the ship, ofthe Moon I watched the water-snakes : he beholdeth They moved in tracks of shining white, turesSofrthe And when 'W reared, the elfish light great calm.

Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire : Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam ; and every track Was a flash of golden fire. Their beauty O happy living things ! no tongue and their Their beauty might declare : appiness. spring of love gushed from my heart, He blesseth And I blessed them unaware : them in his Sure my kind saint took pity on me, rt* And I blessed them unaware. The spell be- The selfsame moment I could pray ; gins to And from my neck so free bieak. The Albatross fell off, and sank Like lead into the sea.

Part V

O SLEEP ! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole ! To Mary queen the praise be given ! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul. The silly buckets on the deck, Ey grace of That had so long remained Mother! the I dreamt that they were rilled with dew ; ancient Ma- And when I awoke, it rained. riner is refreshed with My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank ; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank. I moved, and could not feel my limbs : I was so light — almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost. And soon I heard a roaring wind : He heareth It did not come anear ; sounds and t. - i ■ ...... -i seeth strange But with its sound it shook the sans, sights and That were so thin and sere. commotions in the sky and the ele- The upper air burst into Jrfe ! ment.

And a hundred fire-flags sheen, To and fro they were hurried about ! And to and fro, and in and out, The wan stars danced between. And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge ; And the rain poured down from one black cloud ; The Moon was at its edge. The thick black cloud was cleft, and still The Moon was at its side : Like waters shot from some high crag, The lightning fell with never a jag, A river steep and wide. The bodies of the ship's crew are The loud wind never reached the ship, Yet now the ship moved on ! Beneath the lightning and the Moon The dead men gave a groan. inspired, and the ship moves en They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise. The helmsman steered, the ship moved on ; Yet never a breeze up blew ; The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, Where they were wont to do ; They raised their limbs like lifeless tools — We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother's son Stood by me, knee to knee : The body and I pulled at one rope, But he said nought to me." B it not by " I fear thee, ancient Mariner ! " the souls of >' Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest : by^emonsof 'Twas not those souls that fled in pain, earth or Which to their corses came again, midddle air, But a troop of spirits blest : but by a r r blessed troop of angelic For when it dawned — they dropped their arms, spirits sent And clustered round the mast ; invocation of Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, the guardian And from their bodies passed. saint. Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the Sun ; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the sky-lark sing ; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning !

And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute ; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute. It ceased ; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon,-" A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune. Till noon we quietly sailed on, Yet never a breeze did breathe : Slowly and smoothly went the ship, Moved onward from beneath. Under the keel nine fathom deep, From the land of mist and snow, The spirit slid : and it was he That made the ship to go. The sails at noon left off their tune, Aud the ship stood still also. The lone some Spirit from the south-pole carries on the ship as far as the Line, in obe dience to the angelic The Sun, right up above the mast, Had fixed her to the ocean : But in a minute she 'gan stir, With a short uneasy motion — Backwards and forwards half her length With a short uneasy motion. troop, but still requireth vengeance.

Then like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound : It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound. How long in that same fit I lay, I have not to declare ; But ere my living life returned, I heard, and in my soul discerned Two voices in the air. The Polar Spirit's fellow demons, the invisible inhabitants of the ele ment, take part in his wrong : and two of them relate, one to the other, that penance long and heavy for the an cient Mari ner hath been accorded to the Polar ' Is it he ? ' quoth one, ' Is this the man ? By him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless Albatross. The Spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bo w. ' Spirit, who returneth southward. The other was a softer voice, As soft as honey-dew : Quoth he, ' The man hath penance done, And penance more will do.'

Part VI. First Voice

' But tell me, tell me ! speak again, Thy soft response renewing — What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing ? ' SECOND VOICE. ' Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast ; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast — If he may know which way to go ; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see ! how graciously She looketh down on him,' FIRST VOICE. The Mariner hath been ' But why drives on that ship so fast, Without or wave or wind ? ' cast into a trance ; for the angelic power caus eth the ves sel to drive northward faster than human life could en- SECOND VOICE. ' The air is cut away before, And closes from behind. Fly, brother, fly ! more high, more high ! Or we shall be belated : For slow and slow that ship will go, When the Mariner's trance is abated.' dure.

The supernatural motion is retarded ; the Mariner awakes and his penance begins anew I woke, and we were sailing on As in a gentle weather : 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high ; The dead men stood together. All stood together on the deck, For a charnel-dungeon fitter: All fixed on me their stoiiy eyes, That in the Moon did glitter. The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never passed away : I could not draw my eyes from theirs, Nor turn them up to pray. «3 And now this spell was snapt : once more I viewed the ocean green, And looked far forth, yet little saw Of what had else been seen — ■ The curse is finally expi ated. Like one, that on a lonesome road Dotlt walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on mo, Nor sound nor motion made : Its path was not upon the sea, In ripple or in shade. It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek Like a meadow-gale of spring — It mingled strangely with my fears, Yet it felt like a welcoming. Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Yet she sailed softly too : Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze — ■ On me alone it blew. Oh ! dream of joy ! is this indeed The light -house top I see ? Is this the hill ? is this the kirk ? Is this mine own countree ? And the an cient Man ner behold eth his native We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, And I with sobs did pray — O let me be awake, my God ! Or let me sleep alway. country. The harbour-bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn ! And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the Moon. The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, That stands above the rock : The moonlight steeped in silentness The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light Till rising from the same, Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came. The angelic spirits leave. the dead bodies. *4 And appear in their own forms of light. A little distance from the prow Those crimson shadows were : I turned my eyes upon the deck — Oh, Christ ! what saw I there ! Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, And, by the holy rood ! A man all light, a seraph-man, On every corse there stood. This seraph-band, each waved his hand : It was a heavenly sight ! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light ; This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart — No voice ; but oh ! the silence sank Like music on my heart. But soon I heard the dash of oars, I heard the Pilot's cheer ; My head was turned perforce away And I saw a boat appear.

The Pilot and the Pilot's boy, I heard them coming fast : Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy The dead men could not blast. I saw a third — I heard his voice : It is the Hermit good ! He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The Albatross's blood.

Part VII

The Hermit This Hermit good lives in that wood of the wood. Which slopes down to the sea. How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a cushion plump : It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. '5 The skiff-boat neared : I heard them talk, ' Why, this is strange, I trow ! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now ? ' 'Strange, by my faith !' the Hermit said — Approacheih ' And they answered notour cheer ! *he ship with The planks looked warped ! and see those sails, won(!er- How thin they are and sere ! I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest-brook along ; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolf's young.' ' Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look — (The Pilot made reply) i am a-feared ' — ' Push on, push on ! ' Said the Hermit cheerily.

The boat came closer to the ship, But I nor spake nor stirred ; The boat came close beneath the ship, And straight a sound was heard. Under the water it rumbled on, Still louder and more dread : It reached the ship, it split the bay ; The ship went down like lead. The ship suddenly sinketh. Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned My body lay afloat ; But swift as dreams, myself I found Within the Pilot's boat. The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat. Upon the whirl, where sank the ship The boat spun round and round ; And all was still, save that the hill Was telling of the sound. I moved my lips — the Pilot shrieked And fell down in a fit ; The holy hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit. I took the oars : the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go, Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. ' Ha ! ha ! ' quoth he, ' full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row.' And now, all in my own countree, I stood on the firm land !