Than those, which mould yon cloud in lazy

flakes,

Or the dull sobbing draft, that drones and

rakes

ΙΟ

Upon the strings of this Æolian lute,
Which better far were mute.
For lo! the New-Moon, winter-bright!
And overspread with phantom light,
(With swimming phantom light o'erspread,
But rimm'd and circled by a silver thread)
I see the Old Moon in her lap, foretelling
The coming on of rain and squally blast:
And O! that even now the gust were
swelling,

And the slant night-show'r driving loud and fast!

Those sounds which oft have rais'd me, whilst they aw'd,

And sent my soul abroad,

Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,

Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live!

20

11

A grief without a pang, void, dark, and

drear,

A stifled, drowsy, unimpassion'd grief, Which finds no nat'ral outlet, no relief, In word, or sigh, or tear

O EDMUND! in this wan and heartless mood,

To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd, All this long eve, so balmy and serene,

Have I been gazing on the Western sky, And its peculiar tint of yellow-green :

And still I gaze-and with how blank an eye! 30 And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,

That give away their motion to the stars ; Those stars, that glide behind them, or between,

Now sparkling, now bedimm'd, but always

O wherefore did I let it haunt my mind
This dark distressful dream?

I turn from it, and listen to the wind
Which long has rav'd unnotic'd.

a scream

90 What

Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!

Visit him, gentle Sleep, with wings of healing,

And may this storm be but a mountainbirth,

May all the stars hang bright above his dwelling,

Silent, as though they watch'd the sleeping Earth!

With light heart may he rise,
Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,

And sing his lofty song, and teach me to rejoice!

O EDMUND, friend of my devoutest choice, O rais'd from anxious dread and busy care, 130

By the immenseness of the good and fair
Which thou see'st everywhere,

Joy lifts thy spirit, joy attunes thy voice,
To thee do all things live from pole to pole,
Their life the eddying of thy living soul!
O simple spirit, guided from above,
O lofty Poet, full of life and love,
Brother and friend of my devoutest choice,
Thus may'st thou ever, evermore rejoice!

ΕΣΤΗΣΕ.

TO A GENTLEMAN

[WILLIAM WORDSWORTH]

COMPOSED ON THE NIGHT AFTER HIS RECITATION OF A POEM ON THE GROWTH

OF AN INDIVIDUAL MIND (p. 176).

The following is the first version of this poem as sent by Coleridge to Sir George Beaumont in January 1807. See Coleorton Letters, edited by Professor Wm. Knight, 1887, vol. i. p. 213:

TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH COMPOSED FOR THE GREATER PART ON THE SAME NIGHT AFTER THE FINISHING OF HIS RECITATION OF THE POEM IN THIRTEEN BOOKS, ON THE GROWTH OF HIS OWN MIND.

O FRIEND! O Teacher! God's great gift to me!

Into my heart have I received that lay
More than historic, that prophetic lay
Wherein (high theme by thee first sung
aright)

Of the foundations and the building up
Of thy own Spirit thou hast loved to tell
What may be told, by words revealable :
With heavenly breathings, like the secret

the burst

31 Of Heaven's immediate thunder, when no cloud

Is visible, or shadow on the main !
For thou wert there, thy own brows gar-
landed,

Amid the tremor of a realm aglow !
Amid a mighty nation jubilant !
When from the general heart of human kind
Hope sprang forth, like an armed Deity!
Of that dear Hope, afflicted and struck
down,

So summon'd homeward; thenceforth calm and sure, 40 As from the watch-tower of man's absolute self,

With light unwaning on her eyes, to look Far on--herself a glory to behold,

The Angel of the Vision! Then (last strain) Of Duty, chosen laws controlling choice, Action and joy !—An Orphic tale indeed, A tale divine of high and passionate thoughts To their own music chanted!

Save as it worketh for them, they in it.
Nor less a sacred roll, than those of old,
And to be placed, as they, with gradual fame
Among the archives of mankind, thy work
Makes audible a linked song of Truth-
Of Truth profound a sweet continuous song,
Not learnt, but native, her own natural
notes!
61
Dear shall it be to every human heart,
To me how more than dearest! me, on
whom

Comfort from thee, and utterance of thy love,

Came with such heights and depths of har

mony,

Such sense of wings uplifting, that its might Scatter'd and quell'd me, till my thoughts

became

sad years

A bodily tumult; and thy faithful hopes,
Thy hopes of me, dear Friend, by me unfelt!
Were troublous to me, almost as a voice,
Familiar once, and more than musical;
As a dear woman's voice to one cast forth,
A wanderer with a worn-out heart forlorn,
Mid strangers pining with untended wounds.
O Friend, too well thou know'st, of what
75
The long suppression had benumb'd mysou!,
That, even as life returns upon the drown'd,
The unusual joy awoke a throng of pains-
Keen pangs of Love, awakening, as a babe
Turbulent, with an outcry in the heart!
And fears self-will'd, that shunn'd the eye
of Hope;
81
And Hope that scarce would know itself
from Fear;

Sense of past youth, and manhood come