VARIOUS SUBJECTS, 1796

(Written late in 1794. Text of 1797)

        As when a child on some long winter's night
        Affrighted clinging to its Grandam's knees
        With eager wond'ring and perturb'd delight
        Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees
        Mutter'd to wretch by necromantic spell;
        Or of those hags, who at the witching time
        Of murky midnight ride the air sublime,
        And mingle foul embrace with fiends of Hell:
        Cold Horror drinks its blood! Anon the tear
        More gentle starts, to hear the Beldame tell
        Of pretty babes, that lov'd each other dear,
        Murder'd by cruel Uncle's mandate fell:
        Ev'n such the shiv'ring joys thy tones impart,
        Ev'n so thou, SIDDONS! meltest my sad heart!

(Probably 1795. Text of 1818)

        Was it some sweet device of Faery
        That mocked my steps with many a lonely glade,
        And fancied wanderings with a fair-hair'd maid?
        Have these things been? or what rare witchery,
        Impregning with delights the charmed air,
        Enlighted up the semblance of a smile
        In those fine eyes? methought they spake the while
        Soft soothing things, which might enforce despair
        To drop the murdering knife, and let go by
        His foul resolve. And does the lonely glade
        Still court the foot-steps of the fair-hair'd maid?
        Still in her locks the gales of summer sigh?
        While I forlorn do wander reckless where,
        And 'mid my wanderings meet no Anna there.

(Probably 1795. Text of 1818)

        Methinks how dainty sweet it were, reclin'd
        Beneath the vast out-stretching branches high
        Of some old wood, in careless sort to lie,
        Nor of the busier scenes we left behind
        Aught envying. And, O Anna! mild-eyed maid!
        Beloved! I were well content to play
        With thy free tresses all a summer's day,
        Losing the time beneath the greenwood shade.
        Or we might sit and tell some tender tale
        Of faithful vows repaid by cruel scorn,
        A tale of true love, or of friend forgot;
        And I would teach thee, lady, how to rail
        In gentle sort, on those who practise not
        Or love or pity, though of woman born.

(1794. Text of 1818)

        O! I could laugh to hear the midnight wind,
        That, rushing on its way with careless sweep,
        Scatters the ocean waves. And I could weep
        Like to a child. For now to my raised mind
        On wings of winds comes wild-eyed Phantasy,
        And her rude visions give severe delight.
        O winged bark! how swift along the night
        Pass'd thy proud keel! nor shall I let go by
        Lightly of that drear hour the memory,
        When wet and chilly on thy deck I stood,
        Unbonnetted, and gazed upon the flood,
        Even till it seemed a pleasant thing to die,—
        To be resolv'd into th' elemental wave,
        Or take my portion with the winds that rave.

FROM CHARLES LLOYD'S POEMS ON THE DEATH OF PRISCILLA FARMER, 1796

THE GRANDAME

(Summer, 1796. Text of 1818)

        On the green hill top,
        Hard by the house of prayer, a modest roof,
        And not distinguish'd from its neighbour-barn,
        Save by a slender-tapering length of spire,
        The Grandame sleeps. A plain stone barely tells
        The name and date to the chance passenger.
        For lowly born was she, and long had eat,
        Well-earned, the bread of service:—her's was else
        A mounting spirit, one that entertained
        Scorn of base action, deed dishonorable,
        Or aught unseemly. I remember well
        Her reverend image: I remember, too,
        With what a zeal she served her master's house;
        And how the prattling tongue of garrulous age
        Delighted to recount the oft-told tale
        Or anecdote domestic. Wise she was,
        And wondrous skilled in genealogies,
        And could in apt and voluble terms discourse
        Of births, of titles, and alliances;
        Of marriages, and intermarriages;
        Relationship remote, or near of kin;
        Of friends offended, family disgraced—
        Maiden high-born, but wayward, disobeying
        Parental strict injunction, and regardless
        Of unmixed blood, and ancestry remote,
        Stooping to wed with one of low degree.
        But these are not thy praises; and I wrong
        Thy honor'd memory, recording chiefly
        Things light or trivial. Better 'twere to tell,
        How with a nobler zeal, and warmer love,
        She served her heavenly master. I have seen
        That reverend form bent down with age and pain
        And rankling malady. Yet not for this
        Ceased she to praise her maker, or withdrew
        Her trust in him, her faith, and humble hope—
        So meekly had she learn'd to bear her cross—
        For she had studied patience in the school
        Of Christ, much comfort she had thence derived,
        And was a follower of the NAZARENE.

POEMS FROM COLERIDGE'S POEMS, 1797

(Summer, 1795. Text of 1818)

        When last I roved these winding wood-walks green,
        Green winding walks, and shady pathways sweet,
        Oft-times would Anna seek the silent scene,
        Shrouding her beauties in the lone retreat.
        No more I hear her footsteps in the shade:
        Her image only in these pleasant ways
        Meets me self-wandering, where in happier days
        I held free converse with the fair-hair'd maid.
        I passed the little cottage which she loved,
        The cottage which did once my all contain;
        It spake of days which ne'er must come again,
        Spake to my heart, and much my heart was moved.
        "Now fair befall thee, gentle maid!" said I,
        And from the cottage turned me with a sigh.

(1795 or 1796. Text of 1818)

        A timid