The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge - BestLightNovel.com
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[6:1] First published in the _History of . . . Christ's Hospital_. By the Rev. W. Trollope, 1834, p. 192. Included in _Literary Remains_, 1836, i. 33, 34. First collected _P. and D. W._, 1877-80.
LINENOTES:
_Julia_, Medio, &c.] De medio fonte leporum. _Trollope._
[12] danc'd] dance (T. Lit. Rem.)
QUAE NOCENT DOCENT[7:1]
[IN CHRIST'S HOSPITAL BOOK]
O! mihi praeteritos referat si Jupiter annos!
Oh! might my ill-past hours return again!
No more, as then, should Sloth around me throw Her soul-enslaving, leaden chain!
No more the precious time would I employ In giddy revels, or in thoughtless joy, 5 A present joy producing future woe.
But o'er the midnight Lamp I'd love to pore, I'd seek with care fair Learning's depths to sound, And gather scientific Lore: Or to mature the embryo thoughts inclin'd, 10 That half-conceiv'd lay struggling in my mind, The cloisters' solitary gloom I'd round.
'Tis vain to wish, for Time has ta'en his flight-- For follies past be ceas'd the fruitless tears: Let follies past to future care incite. 15 Averse maturer judgements to obey Youth owns, with pleasure owns, the Pa.s.sions' sway, But sage Experience only comes with years.
1789.
FOOTNOTES:
[7:1] First published in 1893.
THE NOSE[8:1]
Ye souls unus'd to lofty verse Who sweep the earth with lowly wing, Like sand before the blast disperse-- A Nose! a mighty Nose I sing!
As erst Prometheus stole from heaven the fire 5 To animate the wonder of his hand; Thus with unhallow'd hands, O Muse, aspire, And from my subject s.n.a.t.c.h a burning brand!
So like the Nose I sing--my verse shall glow-- Like Phlegethon my verse in waves of fire shall flow! 10
Light of this once all darksome spot Where now their glad course mortals run, First-born of Sirius begot Upon the focus of the Sun-- I'll call thee ----! for such thy earthly name-- 15 What name so high, but what too low must be?
Comets, when most they drink the solar flame Are but faint types and images of thee!
Burn madly, Fire! o'er earth in ravage run, Then blush for shame more red by fiercer ---- outdone! 20
I saw when from the turtle feast The thick dark smoke in volumes rose!
I saw the darkness of the mist Encircle thee, O Nose!
Shorn of thy rays thou shott'st a fearful gleam 25 (The turtle quiver'd with prophetic fright) Gloomy and sullen thro' the night of steam:-- So Satan's Nose when Dunstan urg'd to flight, Glowing from gripe of red-hot pincers dread Athwart the smokes of h.e.l.l disastrous twilight shed! 30
The Furies to madness my brain devote-- In robes of ice my body wrap!
On billowy flames of fire I float, Hear ye my entrails how they snap?
Some power unseen forbids my lungs to breathe! 35 What fire-clad meteors round me whizzing fly!
I vitrify thy torrid zone beneath, Proboscis fierce! I am calcined! I die!
Thus, like great Pliny, in Vesuvius' fire, I perish in the blaze while I the blaze admire. 40
1789.
FOOTNOTES:
[8:1] First published in 1834. The third stanza was published in the _Morning Post_, Jan. 2, 1798, ent.i.tled 'To the Lord Mayor's Nose'.
William Gill (see ll. 15, 20) was Lord Mayor in 1788.
LINENOTES:
t.i.tle] Rhapsody MS. O: The Nose.--An Odaic Rhapsody MS. O (c).
[5] As erst from Heaven Prometheus stole the fire MS. O (c).
[7] hands] hand MS. O (c).
[10] waves of fire] fiery waves MS. O (c).
[15] I'll call thee Gill MS. O. G--ll MS. O (c).
[16] high] great MS. O (c).
[20] by fiercer Gill outdone MS. O.: more red for shame by fiercer G--ll MS. O (c).
[22] dark] dank MS. O, MS. O (c).
[25] rays] beams MS. O (c).
[30] MS. O (c) ends with the third stanza.
TO THE MUSE[9:1]
Tho' no bold flights to thee belong; And tho' thy lays with conscious fear, Shrink from Judgement's eye severe, Yet much I thank thee, Spirit of my song!
For, lovely Muse! thy sweet employ 5 Exalts my soul, refines my breast, Gives each pure pleasure keener zest, And softens sorrow into pensive Joy.
From thee I learn'd the wish to bless, From thee to commune with my heart; 10 From thee, dear Muse! the gayer part, To laugh with pity at the crowds that press Where Fas.h.i.+on flaunts her robes by Folly spun, Whose hues gay-varying wanton in the sun.
