The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition). Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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Behind the gather’d blackness lost on high;

      And when thou dartest from the wind-rent cloud

       Thy placid lightning o’er the awaken’d sky.

      Ah such is Hope! as changeful and as fair!

       Now dimly peering on the wistful sight; 10

      Now hid behind the dragon-wing’d Despair:

       But soon emerging in her radiant might

      She o’er the sorrow-clouded breast of Care

       Sails, like a meteor kindling in its flight.

       ANTHEM FOR THE CHILDREN OF CHRIST’S HOSPITAL

       Table of Contents

      Seraphs! around th’ Eternal’s seat who throng

       With tuneful ecstasies of praise:

       O! teach our feeble tongues like yours the song

       Of fervent gratitude to raise —

       Like you, inspired with holy flame 5

       To dwell on that Almighty name

      Who bade the child of Woe no longer sigh,

      And Joy in tears o’erspread the widow’s eye.

      Th’ all-gracious Parent hears the wretch’s prayer;

       The meek tear strongly pleads on high; 10

       Wan Resignation struggling with despair

       The Lord beholds with pitying eye;

       Sees cheerless Want unpitied pine,

       Disease on earth its head recline,

      And bids Compassion seek the realms of woe 15

      To heal the wounded, and to raise the low.

      She comes! she comes! the meek-eyed Power I see

       With liberal hand that loves to bless;

       The clouds of Sorrow at her presence flee;

       Rejoice! rejoice! ye Children of Distress! 20

       The beams that play around her head

       Thro’ Want’s dark vale their radiance spread:

      The young uncultur’d mind imbibes the ray,

      And Vice reluctant quits th’ expected prey.

      Cease, thou lorn mother! cease thy wailings drear; 25

       Ye babes! the unconscious sob forego;

       Or let full Gratitude now prompt the tear

       Which erst did Sorrow force to flow.

       Unkindly cold and tempest shrill

       In Life’s morn oft the traveller chill, 30

      But soon his path the sun of Love shall warm;

      And each glad scene look brighter for the storm!

      JULIA

      Medio de fonte leporum

      Surgit amari aliquid.

      Julia was blest with beauty, wit, and grace:

      Small poets lov’d to sing her blooming face.

      Before her altars, lo! a numerous train

      Preferr’d their vows; yet all preferr’d in vain,

      Till charming Florio, born to conquer, came 5

      And touch’d the fair one with an equal flame.

      The flame she felt, and ill could she conceal

      What every look and action would reveal.

      With boldness then, which seldom fails to move,

      He pleads the cause of Marriage and of Love: 10

      The course of Hymeneal joys he rounds,

      The fair one’s eyes danc’d pleasure at the sounds.

      Nought now remain’d but ‘Noes’ — how little meant!

      And the sweet coyness that endears consent.

      The youth upon his knees enraptur’d fell: 15

      The strange misfortune, oh! what words can tell?

      Tell! ye neglected sylphs! who lap-dogs guard,

      Why snatch’d ye not away your precious ward?

      Why suffer’d ye the lover’s weight to fall

      On the illfated neck of much-lov’d Ball? 20

      The favourite on his mistress casts his eyes,

      Gives a short melancholy howl, and — dies.

      Sacred his ashes lie, and long his rest!

      Anger and grief divide poor Julia’s breast.

      Her eyes she fixt on guilty Florio first: 25

      On him the storm of angry grief must burst.

      That storm he fled: he wooes a kinder fair,

      Whose fond affections no dear puppies share.

      ‘Twere vain to tell, how Julia pin’d away:

      Unhappy Fair! that in one luckless day — 30

      From future Almanacks the day be crost! —

      At once her Lover and her Lap-dog lost.

      QUAE NOCENT DOCENT

      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

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