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Now, whether it were by peculiar grace,
As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie
Ere he replied, a flash of mild surprise
His words came feebly from a feeble chest,
The old man still stood talking by my side ;
While he was talking thus, the lonely place,
THE FORCE OF PRAYER; OR, THE FOUNDING OF BOLTON PRIORY, “ What is good for a bootless bene ??
With these dark words begins my tale;
When prayer is of no avail ?
The falconer to the lady said ;
For she knew that her son was dead.
And from the look of the falconer's eye;
For her youthful Romilly.
Is ranging high and low,
To let slip upon buck or doe.
How tempting to bestride!
With rocks on either side.
A name which it took of yore ;
And shall a thousand more.
And what may now forbid
Shall bound across the Strid ?
That the river was strong and the rocks were steep?
And checked him in his leap.
The boy is in the arms of Wharf,
And strangled by a merciless force ;
Till he rose a lifeless corse.
And deep unspeaking sorrow :
A name more sad than Yarrow. If for a lover the lady wept,
A solace she might borrow From death, and from the passion of death
Old Wharf might heal her sorrow.
Which was to be to-morrow;
And hers is a mother's sorrow.
And proudly did its branches wave; And the root of this delightful tree
Was in her husband's grave! Long, long in darkness did she sit,
And her first words were, “Let there be In Bolton, on the field of Wharf,
A stately priory!”
And Wharf, as he moved along,
Nor failed at evensong.
That looked not for relief;
And a patience to her grief.
That shall lack a timely end, If but to God we turn, and ask
Of Him to be our friend.
S. T. COLERIDGE. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE was born at Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, in 1772. At the age of seven years he lost his father, the Vicar of Ottery, a man of remarkable piety and learning. Through the instrumentality of Judge Buller, Coleridge was sent to school at Christ's Hospital, where he formed that friendship with Charles Lamb which lasted during his whole life; and where, in the midst of much privation and suffering, he picked up huge fragments of heterogeneous learning. As early as his sixteenth year the psychological character of his genius indicated itself in the remarkable poem called Time, real and imaginary. At this early period also his extraordinary conversational powers attracted attention; and the “old cloisters of Grey Friars used to re-echo," as Charles Lamb tells us, “with the discourse of the inspired charity-schoolboy” on Plotinus or Pindar. On leaving school Coleridge was entered at Jesus College, Cambridge, where his time was spent in deep but desultory study and impassioned political disquisitions. In a sudden fit of despondency, produced chiefly by the debts which he had heedlessly contracted, Coleridge left Cambridge, and enlisted as a private in a cavalry regiment; his connection with which, as might have been expected, did not last long. Having renounced his original intention of becoming a clergyman in the Established Church, Coleridge continued for some years to lecture or write pamphlets on political and ethical subjects. From the level of a half-transcendental republicanism in politics, and Unitarianism in religion, his mind gradually worked itself up into far higher views; though he seems never to have been in sympathy with any of the political parties or religious sects of the age. It was in his twenty-fifth year, and while he was residing at the foot of the Quantock hills, in Somersetshire, that the poetic genius of Coleridge reached a rapid maturity; and to this brief period a large proportion of his best poems, published originally under the title of Sibylline Leaves, belong. During this early period, i. e. about the year 1797, Coleridge also wrote his drama Remorse, his Ancient Mariner, and the first part of his Christabel. His personal appearance at this time is thus de. scribed by Mr. Hazlitt : “ His complexion was clear, and even bright,
*As are the children of yon azure sheen ;' his forehead was broad and high, as if built of ivory, with large projecting eyebrows, and his eyes rolling beneath them, like a sea, with darkened lustre.
"A certain tender bloom his face o'erspread;' a purple tinge, as we see it in the pale thoughtful complexions of the Spanish portrait-painters Murillo and Velasquez. His mouth was rather open, his chin good-humoured and round, and his nose small."
Assisted by the generosity of Mr. Josiah and Mr. Thomas Wedgewood, who bequeathed him a small annuity, which he received