SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 1772-1834.

He holds him with his glittering eye,
And listens like a three years' child."

The Ancient Mariner. Part i.
Red as a rose is she.

Ibid.

We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

Part ii.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Part iii.

As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel.
The nightmare Life-in-Death was she.
The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark ;
With far-heard whisper o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.
And thou art long and lank and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.2

Ibid.

Ibid.

Part iv.

Ibid.

Alone, alone, - all, all alone;
Alone on a wide, wide sea.
The moving moon went up the sky,
And nowhere did abide ;
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside.

Ibid.

A spring of love gush'd from my heart,
And I bless'd them unaware.

Ibid.

1 Wordsworth, in his Notes to “We are Seven," claims to have written this line.

2 Coleridge says: “ For these lines I am indebted to Mr. Wordsworth."

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole.

The Ancient Mariner. Part v.
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

Ibid. Like one that on a lonesome road Doth 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.

Part vi. So lonely 't was, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be.

Part vii. He prayeth well who loveth well Both man and bird and beast.

Ibid. He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small.

Ibid.

A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.

Ibid.

And the spring comes slowly up this way.

Christabel. Part i. A lady richly clad as she, Beautiful exceedingly.

Ibid. Carv'd with figures strange and sweet, All made out of the carver's brain.

Ibid. Her gentle limbs did she undress, And lay down in her loveliness.

Ibid. A sight to dream of, not to tell !

Ibid. That saints will aid if men will call ; For the blue sky bends over all !

Conclusion to part in

Each matin bell, the Baron saith,
Knells us back to a world of death.

Christabel. Part ii. Her face, oh call it fair, not pale!

Ibid. Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth, And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny, and youth is vain, And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain. Ibid. They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder: A dreary sea now flows between.

Ibid. Perhaps 't is pretty to force together Thoughts so all unlike each other ; To mutter and mock a broken charm, To dally with wrong that does no harm.

Conclusion to Part ii. In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree, Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.

Kubla Khan. Ancestral voices prophesying war.

Ibid. A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora.

Ibid. For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Ibid. Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,

Death came with friendly care; The opening bud to heaven conveyed,

And bade it blossom there. Epitaph on an Infant.

Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare,
And shot my being through earth, sea, and air,
Possessing all things with intensest love,
O Liberty ! my spirit felt thee there.

France. An Ode.
Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place
(Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheisin,
Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon,
Drops his blue-fring'd lids, and holds them close,
And hooting at the glorious sun in heaven
Cries out, “ Where is it?”

Fears in Solitude.
And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin
Is pride that apes humility.'

The Devil's Thoughts.
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.

Love.
Blest hour! it was a luxury - to be!
Reflections on having left a Piace of Retirement.

A charm
For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom
No sound is dissonant which tells of life.

This Lime-tree Bower my Prison.
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star
In his steep course ?

Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni. Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines.

Ibid. Motionless torrents! silent cataracts !

Ibid. Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost.

Ibid. Earth with her thousand voices praises God.

Ibid.
Tranquillity! thou better name
Than all the family of Fame.

Ode to Tranquillity.

1 His favourite sin Is pride that apes humility.

SOUTHEY: The Devil's Walk.

The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence.

Dejection. An Ode. Stanza 1. Joy is the sweet voice, joy the luminous cloud.

We in ourselves rejoice!
And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,

All melodies the echoes of that voice,
All colours a suffusion from that light.

Stanza 5. A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive.

The Three Graves. Never, believe me, Appear the Immortals, Never alone. The Visit of the Gods. (Imitated from Schiller.) Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn.

A Christmas Carol. rii. The knight's bones are dust, And his good sword rust; His soul is with the saints, I trust." The Knight's Tomb. It sounds like stories from the land of spirits If any man obtains that which he merits, Or any merit that which he obtains.

Complaint. Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends ! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man? Three treasures, - love and light, And calm thoughts, regular as infants' breath; And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death. Reproof My eyes make pictures when they are shut.

A Day-Dream.
To know, to esteem, to love, and then to part,
Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart!

On taking Leave of
In many ways doth the full heart reveal
The presence of the love it would conceal.

Motto to Poems written in Later Life.

1817.

1 Misquoted in Scott's “Ivanhoe" (and often repeated thus erroneously).