Select poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
,1 •'' '.(.■ 1 . ■:.,.■■:■' '•■■■.■'1 ••. (i.;:i'!::ii'^M ■!•;:, riiH'i'!';'':::/ ^u •!;!■, ^, :):('• C. ^V.r?^''. .--^^ V^ s 0^ ■'^r-. V ^ ^0- °'.o'^ .- '^^^. ^^. o>' \^ ,-0' 0<>^ ""' "°o ./\ ^''^/'-"'o^^'.^'". % *"^° >" #% 0 « \ ■^--o-' . A ■ r '.. .-1 ^ - \0 -t ,0 ^ .^'» , ''o A^ e^ * ^ s 0 ^ 'f 0 ^ ^ ': \. # ^MK' % .x^'%. ^•-0^ ^, ^^ .i^''^%.. ,0- . ^ ^ " / > \fM/}ko ■%,^- ; si@ ^ ^. c^^ v\^ •0' N 0^ » ^ * " /^ > ^A nN %<.^'' .<^ '^/> ■0- S ^x j7, y^. c^f^^-^o^^x. 1795. FROM THE ORIGINAL PAINTING BY PETER VANDYKE, NOW IN THE NATION/i PORTRAIT GALLERY, LONDON. SELECT POEMS OF SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ARRANGED IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY ANDREW J. GEORGE, A. M. DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH LITERATURE, NEWTON HIGH SCHOOL -i * ' The songs he gave us, what were they 3 '' But preludes to some loftier rhyme That would not leave the sphered chime, The concords of eternal day, And speak itself in words of Time. ' ' Aubrey de Vere. BOSTON, U.S.A. D. C. HEATH & COMPANY PUBLISHERS THF ^ -' - .~~™| c ! NOV. 10 1902 ! CLASS 0^ XXc. K'o. 1 COPY K. Copyright, 1902, B\ ^ D. C. Heath & Co. PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA To THE REV. H. D. RAWNSLEY VICAR OF CROSTHWAITE AND HON. CANON OF CARLISLE WHO WITH THE IMAGINATION OF THE POET AND THE FIDELITY OF THE CHRONICLER HAS REVEALED IN NOBLE VERSE AND PROSE THE LIFE OF THE PAST WITH POETS AND DALESMEN AT THE ENGLISH LAKES THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED IN MEMORY OF WALKS AND TALKS IN THE OLD WORLD AND THE NEW ptdact In 1892 Mr. Aubrey de Vere graciously allowed me to dedicate Wordsworth's Prefaces on Poetry to him as, ** The friend of Wordsworth who had nobly illus- trated in prose and verse the principles which these Pre- faces Contain." He then wrote j " It is indeed as the friend of Wordsworth and as one who from youth to age has endeavored to make known to others the transcenden- tal value of his poetry that I should wish to be remem- bered if remembered at all." In the same letter, after alluding to my edition of Select Poems of Wordsworth, he said ; "I only wish that what you have done for Wordsworth you would next do for his brother Poet, Coleridge. Wordsworth expressed to me more than once his conviction that if Coleridge had kept to poetry after his twenty sixth year (when he deserted it) in place of taking to Metaphysics he would have been the chief poet of Modern Times." In the years that have elapsed since this letter was written I have used the poems of Coleridge side by side with those of Wordsworth, with the purpose of ascer- taining those best adapted to reveal not only the growth of his mind and art but also the experiences of his eventful life which give variety and charm to his work. vi ipreface The present volume is the result of these observations, and it is believed that it will furnish the general student with sufficient material to enable him to understand and appreciate this great Poet and the time in which he lived. The special student will of course be satisfied with no- thing less than the whole of the poet' s work. As respects a man whom we never saw we are fortu- nate if we have as means of knowing him, — works re- vealing the various moods of his mind and emotions of his heart, portraits painted by great artists in a lucky hour of his youth and age, and friends who had insight to know and were both able and willing to tell us the truth in regard to his character. In the study of Coleridge we have all of these means awaiting us, and there is no excuse for our taking half views of him and his work. Mr. Richard Gamett has said that in the study of Cole- ridge "The pebble of poetry is often the pearl of biogra- phy. His wood, hay, and stubble must consequently continue along with his fine gold ; and by a curious paralogism, the only editions esteemed standard will be those where the abstract standard of excellence is disre- garded." In this edition both pebbles and pearls will be found as its purpose is to reveal those influences in the life of the man which gave the distinctive note to his poetry. "The web of our life is a mingled yarn, good and ill together ; our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not ; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues." Inasmuch as the notes give the biographical and crit- l^tttut Vll ical material sufficient to enable one to estimate the place in the history of literature which by common consent Coleridge occupies, I have attempted in the Introduction to reveal the larger influences of English life during the great revival in English poetry. Romantic and Revolu- tionary, of which Coleridge was so important a force. Although most of the material of the notes has been gathered in my study and teaching of the poet, I am indebted for many important details to the valuable works of Mr. J. Dykes Campbell : The Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1893, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge A Narrative of the Events of his Life 1894. My thanks are due to The Rev. Canon Rawnsley for permission to associate his name with this volume. The dates prefixed to the poems give the time of writing and of first publication respectively, so far as they can be ascertained. In some instances when it has been impossible to fix the exact date of composition I have conjectured the date from certain events in the poet's life, and I shall be glad if any readers of the vol- ume can furnish corrections or elucidations. A J. George. Brookline, Massachusetts, JunCf 1902. Contentji PAGE Preface v Introduction xv Appreciations xliii 1786 Genevieve i 1788 Sonnet to the Autumnal Moon ... i 1789 To the Muse 2 Destruction of the Bastile .... 3 Life 5 1790 Monody on the Death of Chatterton . 6 On receiving an account that his only sis- ter's death w^as inevitable . . . . 10 1 79 1 The Raven 11 Sonnet on quitting School for College . 1 3 Absence 14 Happiness 15 1792 A Wish, written in Jesus Wood. (Feb- ruary 10, 1792.) 19 To a young lady, vi^ith a Poem on the French Revolution 20 1793 Songs of  . 30 1794 Lewti, or the Circassian Love-Chaunt . 35 X Contentfii The Faded Flower 38 Domestic Peace. ( From the Fall of Robes- pierre. Act I.) . . .• . . . 39 On a Discovery made too Late . . . 39 Lafayette 40 To a Friend (Charles Lamb), together with an unfinished poem . . . . 41 Monody on the death of Chatterton. 1794-1829. (Latest version). 43 1795 To The Nightingale 50 Composed while climbing the left Ascent of Brockley Coomb. (Somersetshire, May 1795.) 51 The ^olian Harp 52 Reflections on having left a Place of Re- tirement 55 1796 On observing a blossom on the First of February 1796 58 To 59 To a Primrose, the First seen in the Sea- son 60 Sonnet to a Friend who asked how I felt when the Nurse first presented my Infant to me 61 Lines composed in a Concert-room. 62 Ode on the Departing Year. 63 1797 To the Rev. George Coleridge ... 71 Lines to W. Linley, Esq 75 The Three Graves 76 This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison. 99 Fire, Famine and Slaughter. .103 Contents? xi 797-^ Kubla Khan 106 ^ The Rime of the Ancient Mariner .109 V Christabel 139 1 798 Encinctured with a twine of Leaves (From ' The Wanderings of Cain). .166 France: An Ode 167 Frost at Midnight 172 Fears in SoHtude 175 The Nightingale. A Conversation Poem. 185 1799 Westphalian Song 190 The Visit of the Gods 191 Names 192 Water Ballad 193 Lines written in the Album at Elbinge- rode, in the Hartz Forest. '194 Something Childish, but very Natural. 196 The Day-Dream 197 N/Love 198 The Ballad of the Dark Ladie. .202 A Christmas Carol 205 1 800 Thekla's Song. (From the Piccolomini Act II, Scene 6.) 208 The Keepsake 208 A Stranger Minstrel 210 The Snow-Drop 213 1 801 \ Ode to Tranquillity 215 1802 \J Dejection: An Ode 217 The Picture, or the Lover's Resolution. 224 Hymn before Sun-rise in the Vale of Cha- mouni 232 An Ode to the Ram 236 xii Contmt0 Inscription for a Fountain on a Heath. 239 Answer to a Child's Question. 240 1803 The Pains of Sleep 241 1804 Phantom 243 1805 A Sunset 243 What is Life ? 244 Constancy to an Ideal Object. • 244 The Blossoming of the Solitary Date- Tree 246 1806 A Thought suggested by a View of Sad- dleback in Cumberland. .249 Ad Vilmum Axiologum. (William Wordsworth.) 250 1807 To a Gentleman. (William Words- worth.) 251 A Day-Dream 256 Recollections of Love 258 1809 A Tombless Epitaph 260 1 8 1 4 Portrait of Sir George Beaumont. (From Remorse. Act II, Scene 2). .261 18 1 5 Glycine's Song, (from Zapolya. Act II, Scene 2) 263 Hunting Song, (from Zapolya. When the springs of these mighty impulses became tainted or choked up as at the Restoration art and faith both languished ; but when after the lapse of nearly a century England arose to the consciousness of her history and her destiny in the great political revival under Pitt, they burst forth anew, and the art and faith of the Eliza- bethan under the Romantic impulse on the one hand and the Revolutionary outburst on the other were no longer satisfied with their insular position, and the era of expansion began. Britain suddenly rose from an era of the commonplace in men and affairs and tow- ered above nations who were satisfied with merely a xvi idntrotiuction continental influence. In this movement Pitt gained a position unique among English Statesmen. In studying the predecessors of Coleridge it is neces- sary to review the beginning of these great impulses as they appear in the early and middle Eighteenth Cen- tury, and also follow them as they take up into them- selves other elements of the life of the time as that life became more complex and expansive. The new move- ment toward nature, and the democratic movement belong to these two great impulses — Romantic and Revolutionary — which met in Wordsworth and Cole- ridge on the Quantock hills. It was in the almost unconscious protest against the tendency of the Augustans to exclude the emotions from their subjects and freedom of movement from their verse that the Romantic movement had its rise. In contrast to the plastic power of the Classic imagination in molding subjects into graceful but colorless form, the Romantic was picturesque, figuradve, scattering itself over its subject in a splendor of color and im- agery. One is content with the world as it is here and now: the other is filled with an inexhaustible dis- content, homesickness, and endless regret. Heine says that the Romantic movement in Germany was *' the reawakening of the Poetry of Middle Age, as it had shown itself in its songs, images, and Architecture, in art and in life. But the poetry had risen from Chris- tianity; it was a passion-flower which had sprung from the blood of Christ." This is equally true of the movement in England. Predecessors of Coleridge struggled to bring back ^Introduction xvii into English life and literature something of the mirth and merrymaking, the enchantment of forest and stream, the spiritual glow and passion of love in hearts simple and pure, in forms of verse, where more is meant than meets the ear. Poetry, painting, music were to be reunited in the service of a simple natural Hfe, breathing still the noble idealism, sense and soul of the middle ages which had appeared in Spenser and Milton. As no one of these revivalists was great enough to combine all of these characteristics they may be conveniently arranged in groups, as follows: (i) Those who, influenced by Spenser and Milton, ex- celled in reproducing the aspects of natural scenery and the moods of man; as Thomson, Collins, and Gray: ( 2 ) Those who were interested in the Hfe and thought revealed in the ballads and the stories of a Romantic past, as James McPherson, Thomas Percy, and Thomas Chatterton. In the closing years of the seventeenth century Ad- dison had voiced the prevalent feeling of the Augustans as follows: " Old Spenser next, warm'd with poetic rage, In ancient tales amused a barbarous age ; But now the mystic tale, that pleas' d of yore, Can charm an understanding age no more." Before the middle of the eighteenth century there were those who became sated with the shrill wit of an understanding age, and sought again the mystic tale of Spenser. Chief among those who led the return from captivity was James Thomson. In his exquisite xviii 3(|ntroDuction Seasons he did splendid service in revealing the simplicity and truth of rural life and feeling. " At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise, Scarce staining ether ; but by fast degrees, In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour sails Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep. Sits on the horizon round a settled gloom : Not such as wintry storms on mortals shed, Oppressing life ; but lovely, gentle, kind, And full of every hope and every joy. The wish of Nature. Gradual sinks the breeze Into a perfect calm ; that not a breath Is heard to quiver through the closing woods, Or rustling turn the many twinkling leaves Of aspen tall. The uncurling floods, diffused In glassy breath, seem through delusive lapse Forgetful of their course. 'T is silence all, And pleasing expectation. Herds and flocks Drop the dry sprig, and, mute-imploring, eye The fallen verdure. Hushed in short suspense, The plumy people streak their wings with oil, To throw the lucid moisture trickling off j And wait the approaching sign to strike, at once, Into the general choir." l He was not satisfied, hov^'ever, until he had added to all this something of the romantic glow and splendor which exists for the inmost eye alone and constitutes the bliss of solitude. This he did in The Castle of Indolence. In luxury of bewitching sights and sounds it is unsurpassed even by Spenser himself — *' Fancy's pleasing son, Who, like a copious river, poured his song O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground." 1 The Seasons. 3IntroDuccton xix Loveliness with which to satiate one's senses, the ecstasy of romantic atmosphere, the triumph of imagi- nation associative, are seen in the following painting worthy of Claude : *' Was nought around but images of rest : Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between ; And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest, From poppies breathed, and beds of pleasant green, Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Meantime, unnumbered glittering streamlets played. And hurled everywhere their waters sheen ; That, as they bickered through the sunny glade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made." l The revival of interest in the earlier mind and art of Milton which manifested itself at this time was revealed in its finest spirit in Collins and Gray. In their work imagination returns to the habit of spiritual and natural contemplation as opposed to the artificial moralizing of the Augustans, and its cry is ** Hence, vain deluding Joys !" as it welcomes the ** pensive Nun devout and pure " to the studious cloisters pale, while sweet music breathes above, about, or under- neath. In Collins' Ode to Evening these effects are revealed with grace, vigor, and happy harmony. Mr. Swin- burne says Corot on canvas might have signed this ode. ** Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat With short, shrill shriek, flits by on leathern wingj Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, 1 Castle of Indolence. XX 3fIntroliuction As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum : Now teach me, maid composed, To breathe some softened strain. Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May, not unseemly, with its stillness suit. As, musing slow, I hail Thy genial loved return ! ' ' His Ode on the Death of Thomson strikes the Ele- giac note of Milton's Lycidas ; while that On the Popu- lar Superstitions of the Highlands of Scotland may- be said to contain the whole Romantic School in its germ. The ninth stanza is typical of the entire poem. ** Unbounded is thy rage ; with varied style Thy muse may, like those feathery tribes which spring From their rude rocks, extend her skirting wing Round the moist marge of each cold Hebrid isle, To that hoar pile which still its ruin shows : In whose small vaults a pigmy-folk is found. Whose bones the delver with his spade upthrows. And culls them, wondering, from the hallowed ground ! Or thither, where, beneath the showery west. The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid ; Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest, No slaves revere them, and no wars invade : Yet frequent now, at midnight's solemn hour. The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold. And forth the monarchs stalk with sovereign power. In pageant robes, and wreathed with sheeny gold, And on their twilight tombs aerial council hold." 1 It is in the work of Gray, the fastidious scholar and 1 Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands of Scotland. iflntrotjuction xxi recluse, that we see the first culmination of the Roman- tic movement. There were three stages in the devel- opment of his taste. The first was that of the Augus- tans, as is seen by such conventional painting and cold morahty the Ode on the Spring and To Adversity. ** Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader browner shade, Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech O'er-canopies the glade, Beside some water's rushy brink With me the Muse shall sit, and think ( At ease reclined in rustic state ) How vain the ardour of the crowd How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great ! " 1 The second stage is that of the Elegy y which is in the dreamy, pensive mood of Milton, and is permeated with the atmosphere of rural England. " Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds. Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign." The third stage is that of The Bard, The Descent of Odin, and the Journal in the Lakes, in which there is a glow of enthusiasm in the passion of man and the beauty of nature. 1 Ode on the Spring. xxii ^Introduction *< On a rock whose haughty brow, Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood : (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a master's hand, and Prophet's fire Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. Hark, how each giant oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! " ^ ' In the caverns of the West, By Odin's fierce embrace comprest ; A wond'rous Boy shall Rinda bear, Who ne'er shall comb his raven hair. Nor wash his visage in the stream. Nor see the sun's departing beam ; Till he on Hoder's corse shall smile Flaming on the funeral pile. Now my weary lips I close : Leave me, leave me to repose." ^ ** Came to the foot of Helvellyn along which runs an excellent road, looking down from a little height on Lee's-water (called also Thirlmeer, or Wiborn- water), and soon descending on its margin. The lake from its depth looks black (though really as clear as glass), and from the gloom of the vast crags, that scowl over it: it is narrow and about three miles long, resembling a river in its course ; little shining torrents hurry down the rocks to join it, with not a bush to overshadow them, or cover their march: all is rock and loose stones up to the very brow, which Hes so near your way, 1 The Bard. 2 The Descent of Odin. 3|ntroUuctton xxiii that not above half the height of Helvellyn can be seen." ^ The subtle analogy between human emotions and the phenomena of external nature ; the identification of our own moods with Nature and the spiritual elation resulting, is to be seen at its height in Wordsworth and Coleridge, but as early as 1739 Gray felt the in- fluence. When visiting the Grande Chartreuse, he wrote to West : ** I do not remember to have gone ten paces without an exclamation that there was no restraining ; not a precipice, not a torrent, not a cliff, but is pregnant with religion and poetry. There are certain scenes that would awe an atheist into beHef without the help of other argument." The years 1 760-1 770 are memorable ones in the history of English Romanticism, as at this time were given to the world Macpherson' s Ossian, Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry and the Row- ley Poems of Chatterton. Centuries ago among the mountains, lakes, and glens of the western Highlands of Scotland there existed a race of heroes known as the Fienne which Mr. Skene affirms preceded the Scots both in Erin and Alban. They came from Loch- Ian (Scandinavia) and settled in Ireland and the north of Scotland ; hence the legends of this race are the common property of both countries. Each has its own body of popular songs and epics of these Fenian heroes, preserved by oral tradition. Professor Shairp says that he has known of those among the Gael of the Scottish Highlands who could sing the Fenian poems for two 1 Journal in the Lakes. ^xiv 3|ntroiJuction or three evenings continuously. The poetry of this period is known as Ossianic because Oisin was the proto bard, the first and greatest of the bards, and was the son of Fionn or Finn the great king. Having sur- vived his race and kindred, alone and blind he stands at the door of his empty hall solacing himself with memories of the past. His chief delight is to listen to the song of Malvina, the betrothed of his son Oscar, who has fallen in battle. At times he himself breaks forth in a passionate wail of anguish, or a joyful hymn of victory, as he remembers the mighty deeds in which he has been an actor. He is a Gaelic Homer gather- ing the harvest of a splendid era of acdon. In 1758 a young Highlander of Badenoch published a poem. The Highlander ^ which revealed an aspirant for literary honor not without promise. When it became known that he had in his possession some of the old poems of the Ossianic period he was urged to translate them. At first he hesitated, but later produced a trans- lation of Fingal and Temora the ancient Epics. At once he was the observed of all observers and became in reputadon what John Stuart Blackie calls the Pisis- tratus or the Aristarchus of a Cekic Homer. His fame was not only nadonal but European. But at last doubts arose as to the existence of the originals, and the great Ossianic Controversy began. With it we have nothing to do now ; the student who is curious about it will find abundant material in Shairp's Aspects of Poetryy Blackie' s Language and Literature of the Scottish Highlands^ and The Publications of the Highlands So- ciety. In the earliest raptures of the Scottish Gael as 31ntroJ5uction xxv he prepared for the combat or returned victorious over his enemy ; in the later and more subdued note of love despair of the race as it fades away before the inevi- table, we find a revelation of his varied interest and activity. In the following description of Cuchullin, the leader of the warriors of Ulster, we have the rapid- ity, the directness, the simplicity, and the nobility of Homer. I give Dr. Clerk's translation from Mac- pherson's prose : * ' In the chariot is seen the chief, True, brave son of the keen-cutting brand, Cuchullin, of blue dappled shields, Son of Semo, renowned in song. His cheek like the polished yew ; Clear, far-ranging his eye, Under arched, dark, and slender brow ; His yellow hair down-streaming from his head, Falls round the glorious face of man. As he draws his spear from his back." A single quotation from the prose of Macpherson' s Fingal will reveal his peculiar style, strong in exclama- tory qualities, abruptness, picturesqueness, and solem- nity, resembling that of the prophetic books of the Eng- lish Bible: **As the dark shades of autumn fly over the grass ; so glowing, dark, successive came the chiefs of Lochlin's echoing woods. Tall as the stag of Mor- ven moved stately before them the King. His shining shield is on his side, like a flame on the heath at night; when the world is silent and dark, and the traveler sees some ghost sporting in the beams. Dimly gleam the hills around, and show indistinctly their oaks. A xxvi 3|ntroUuction blast of the troubled ocean removed the settled mist. The sons of Erin appear, Uke a ridge of rock on the coast ; when mariners on shores unknown are trem- bling at the veering winds." ^ ** The Celt's quick feeling for what is noble and dis- tinguished gave his poetry style ; his indomitable per- sonality gave it pride and passion ; his sensibihty and nervous exaltation gave it a better gift still, — the gift of rendering with wonderful felicity the magical charm of nature. Magic is just the word for it, — the magic of nature, her weird power and her fairy charm." ^ This magic was just what sick poetry and over-civilization needed to revive their drooping spirits. " Men had been talking under their breath, and in a mincing dialect, so long," says Leslie Stephen, **that they were easily gratified by vigorous and natural sentiment." The charm of these tales of a past age was immediate. They touched Gray so keenly that he was impatient for more ; Chatterton imitated their style and subjects ; Walpole was charmed no less than Gray ; while Byron, Coleridge, and Scott felt their power. They were translated into six languages, and began a tour of Europe. The Celtic revival in Ireland is largely due to them, and the work of one of her greatest poets, Aubrey 1 For revelations of Gaelic Life and Poetry the following works, recommended to me by Prof. John Blackie, will be found valuable: Mackenzie's Beauties of Gaelic Poetry ,• Donald Gregory, History of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland; Norman MacLeod, Reminiscences of a Highland Parish ,• John Campbell, Popular Tales of the West Highlands; The Book of the Dean of Lismore } Mrs, Ogilvie, Highland Minstrelsy. 2 Matthew Arnold, Celtic Literature. 31ntrotJuction xxvii de Vere, especially his Legends of Ireland'' s Heroic Age, which deals with so many of the mighty deeds of Cuchullain, should interest the student of litera- ture.-"^ While the learned were measuring weapons in the Ossianic Controversy a young prodigy, Thomas Chat- terton, at Bristol was practicing a veritable hoax on a simple pewterer in his neighborhood. Having possessed himself of such necessary materials as ochre, pumice, bags of charcoal- dust, and parchments, he hid in the memorial room of the old church of Saint Mary de RedcHfFe, and began copying old devices of heraldry and antique drawings. Having deceived the old guilds- man, Bergum, with the newly discovered manuscript of his house, **The De Bergham Pedigree with crest and arms, two cat-a-mountains ermine," the creative impulse then took possession of him, and he added stories which purported to have been written by an old monk Rowley in the Middle Ages, and ventured to trap larger game. At the opening of the new bridge over the Avon at Bristol, he sent to the Journal a description of the Mayor passing over the old bridge in the reign of Henry II. In 1768 he prepared a prose sketch. The Ryse of Peyncteynee in Englande^ wroten by T. Rowleie I46g for Master Cany?ige. It is the story of Afflem, an Anglo Saxon worker in stained glass, who lived in the reign of Edmond, and was taken captive by the Danes. ** Inkarde, a soldyer of the Danes, was to slea hym ; onne the Nete before the Feeste of Deathe hee founde Afflem to bee hys Broder. AiFreghte chaynede 1 Cf. Aubrey de Vere^ Atlantic Monthly, June, 1902. xxviii 3|ntroUuction uppe hys soule. Gastnesse dwelled yn his Braste. Oscarre, the greate Dane gave hest hee shulde bee forslagene with the commeynge Sunne ; no tears colde availe ; the morne ; cladde yn roabes of ghastness was come whan the Danique Kynge behested Oscarre to arraye hys Knyghtes eftsoones for Warre." This de- ceived Horace Walpole, to whom it was sent. After writing many poems in the pseudo-antique style, as the result of a boyish freak he went to London as a literary adventurer. He lived on a crust because he was too proud to ask help, and died of starvation in his eight- eenth year. After his death the Rowley poems were discovered, and they created almost as much interest as those of Macpherson. When they were published in 1777, they aroused controversy as to their authenticity ; and finally it was acknowledged by all that they were exceedingly clever forgeries, which revealed a genius of marvelous and fascinating character. Chatterton's works carefully edited by the accomplished student of Chaucer, Prof Skeat, may now be read with all their peculiar freshness and antique picturesqueness. Song to AelUy Lord of Castle Bristol, is interesting. " O thou ! where'er — thy bones at rest, — Thv sprite to haunt delighteth best, — Whether upon the blood-embrued plain, Or where thou kenst from far The dismal cry of war ; Or seest some mountain made of corse of slain Or in black armour stalk around Embattled Bristowe, once thy ground, And glow ardurous on the Castle Stair ; Or fiery round the Minster glare, Let Bristowe still be made thy care." 3fInti:oUuction xxix The Ballad of Charity, written when he was half starving, is perhaps the most complete and satisfactory of his works, of sustained power, tenderness, and beauty. " In Virgine the sultry Sun 'gan sheene And hot upon the meads did cast his ray : The apple ruddied from its paly green, And the soft pear did bend the leafy spray ; The pied chelandry 1 sang the livelong day : 'Twas now the pride, the manhood of the year, And eke the ground was dight in its most deft aumere.l The sun was gleaming in the mid of day, Dead still the air and eke the welkin blue, When from the sea arist in drear array A heap of clouds of sable sullen hue, The which full fast unto the woodland drew, Hiding at once the Sunne's festive face ; And the black tempest swelled and gathered up apace. Beneath an holm, fast by a pathway side Which did unto Saint Godwin's convent lead, A hapless pilgrim moaning did abide, Poor in his view, ungentle in his weed. Long breast-full of the miseries of need. Where from the hailstorm could the beggar fly ? He had no housen there, nor any convent nigh." The minstrel song from Aella, while suggested by Ophelia's song in Hamlet, has charming touches pecu- liarly his own : — '* Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note, guick in dance as thought can be, 1 Goldfinch. 2 Mantle. XXX 3Iwti^oDuction Deft his tabor, cudgel stout, O he lies by the willow-tree ! My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed. All under the willow-tree. Hark ! the raven flaps his wing In the briar's dell below 5 Hark ! the death-owl loud doth sing To the nightmares as they go. My love is dead. Gone to his death-bed, AU under the willow- tree." The dramatic character of Chatterton's life, as well as the history and nature of his work, could not fail to in- fluence the Romantic movement. His successors from Blake to Rossetti have acknowledged their inheritance from this fragile, sensitive soul, and have sung his praises. Mr. Edmund Gosse says : ** It is not to be de- nied that, in relation of his years and equipments, to the vigour and bulk of his work produced, Chatterton is, let us say boldly, the most extraordinary phenomenon of infancy in the literature of the world. ' ' It is interesting to note that while the Romantic movement in England grew to its majestic Gothic pro- portions at the close of the century without any assist- ance from abroad, England through Shakespeare was making her contribution to a similar movement in Ger- many, as that country was throwing off the influence of French Classicism. This was returned with inter- est through Goethe in 1796, to stimulate Sir Walter Scott in his earhest work, the translation of Gotx von BerlichingeTiy which, with Percy's Reliquesy shares the jflntroUuction xxxi honor of creating his enthusiasm for the history of the legends and ballads of his own land. In considering the second of great influences, the Revolutionary, which rises between the Declaration of Independence in 1776 and the Declaration of the Rights of Man in 1789, we recognize how truly the eight- eenth century was an age of prose and reason, for we see that no one of the poets already mentioned has any share in it. In 1788 Pitt, speaking in the House of Commons, said : ** Kings and Princes derive their power from the people ; and to the people alone, through the organ of their representatives, does it ap- pertain to decide in cases for which the Constitution has made no specific or positive provision." 1 And he alluded to the right of princes, other than as derived from the people, as already sunk into contempt and almost oblivion. He was the first Englishman of his time, for he made England the first country in the world. The Great Commoner might look down with scorn on coronets and garters. '* A great and celebrated name ; a name that keeps the name of this country respectable in every other on the globe. It may truly be called, * clarum et venerabile nomen Gentibus, et multum nostrae quod proderat urbi.' " 2 The one man of the period whose political prose has risen^ to the height of great literature is Edmund Burke. 1 Memoirs of the Court and Cabinets of George the Third. 2 Burke, Speech on American Taxation. xxxii 31ntroDuction His matchless speeches on the American War and his Reflections on the French Revolution place him among the most noble-hearted statesmen and greatest poHtical philosophers the world has ever known. His defense of the Americans and his condemnation of the French reveals that he saw clearly, as Mr. Morley says, why the draught which Rousseau and others brewed was harmless and wholesome for the Americans and mad- dening poison for the French. While revoludonary in the nature of his political phi- losophy, Burke was anti-revolutionary as regards prac- tical results, for abstract right is not always expedient. How imperial he was as an interpreter of English Liberty by his grasp of great prmciples, may be seen from the following. In his Speech on Co?iciliation with America he said : ** Magnanimity in politics is not sel- dom the truest wisdom ; and a great empire and little minds go ill together. If we are conscious of our situa- tion, and glow with zeal to fill our place as becomes our station and ourselves, we ought to anticipate all our public proceedings on America with the old warn- ing of the church, Sursum corda ! We ought to ele- vate our minds to the greatness of the trust to which the order of Providence has called us. By adverting to the dignity of this high calling, our ancestors have turned a savage wilderness into a glorious empire ; and have made the most extensive and the only honorable conquests, not by destroying but by promoting the wealth, the number, the happiness of the human race. Let us get an American revenue as we have got an American empire. English privileges have made it all 3|ntroDuction xxxiii that it is ; English privileges alone will make it all it can be." Alluding to the apparent inconsistency in Burke's attitude toward the French and American Revolution respectively Mr. Benjamin Kidd says : ** We see Burke accordingly propounding the doctrine, already becoming strange to the theorists of the French Revo- lution, that even the whole people have no right to make a law prejudicial to the whole community. We are beginning to understand now something of the pro- found social instinct from which such illumination pro- ceeds, as well as to perceive the character of the prin- ciple Burke had in sight which reconciles the apparent contradiction." ^ In his Reflections on the Revolution in France he sought to lay bare the foundations on which political institutions must rest. ** On the scheme of this barbarous philosophy (of the Revolutionists), which is the offspring of cold hearts and muddy under- standings, and which is as void of solid wisdom as it is destitute of all taste and elegance, laws are to be sup- plied only by their own terrors and by the concern which each individual may find in them from any pri- vate speculations, or can spare to them from his own private interests. In the groves of their academy, at the end of every vista, you see nothing but gallows. No- thing is left which engages the affections in the part of the Commonwealth. On the principles of this mechanic philosophy, our institutions can never be embodied, if I may use the expression in persons ; so as to create in us love, veneration, admiration, or attachment. But 1 Principles of Western Ci'vilvzation^ chap. I. xxxiv 3ntroDuction that sort of reason which banishes the affection is inca- pable of filling the place." The new feeling for man which had been the cause of these great revolutions now revealed itself in the political, moral, and religious life of the time. Adam Smith showed that a nation's wealth was in the nature and conditions of its toilers. ** In England the history of the great intellectual movement, in which the principles of modern democracy have been developed into some- thing Hke the form in which they have come down to the current generation, may be said to have begun with Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations.^ The Wesleys awakened interest in the poor, and gave the first impulse to popular education. Reforms in the prison system were brought about by the humani- tarian passion of Howard, and in every way Man, aside from considerations of wealth and position, was the centre of interest. In the new atmosphere of childlike wonder, practical wisdom, and philosophical thought, poetry of Man and Nature was developed. The poet who united the elements of the Romantic and Rev- olutionary impulses in the earlier stages is Wilham Blake. His poetry has the elements of Shakespeare, Spenser, and Milton, and anticipated Burns and Words- worth, in the love of nature, animal life, and children. In Songs of Innocencey simple, tender, joyous, laughing vale and echoing hill ; pleasant cot, and innocent bower ; oaken seat and neighbors all ; merry bird and sportive lamb ; are treated with a passion in- nocent and sublime. In Songs of Experience a child's 1 Benjamin Kidd, Principles of Western Ci-vilizatioTt, chap, i. ^IntroUuction xxxv heart beats in the man's, hating social injustice and all that renders the life of man slavish, mean, and vulgar. These are the prelusive notes to the symphony which is to be. To the Muse is a passionate appeal for a return of the old poetic povi^er : — '* How have you left the ancient love That bards of old enjoyed in you ! The languid strings do scarcely move, The sounds are forced, the notes are few." Blake's relation to the Revolutionary extremists is shown by such work as The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, and The French RevolutioUy only the first book of which was published. It was the spiritual idea rather than the historical facts of the Revolution which ap- pealed to him. In the httle room over Johnson's book shop in Saint Paul's Churchyard he met with Godwin, Priestly, Fuseli, and Paine, and was the only one of the party who dared to wear the bonnet rouge on the street ; but when the September Massacres occurred he threw it aside in disgust, and returned to the calmer atmosphere of love and song : — " Memory hither come, And tune your merry notes : And while upon the wind Your music floats, I '11 pore upon the stream — Where sighing lovers dream, And fish for fancies as they pass Within the watery glass. " The three poets who were related to the Revolu- tionary movement in much the same way as were xxxvi 31ntroDuction Thomson, Collins, and Gray to the Romantic, were Crabbe, Cowper, and Burns. The note of the new Democracy had been sounded by Goldsmith when he brooded over the charm of those lovely bowers of in- nocence and ease, which luxuries' contagion had sick- lied o'er. In The Village of Crabbe we have a picture, not of the Arcadian simplicity of Sweet Au- burn, but the sullen woe and bitter struggle in homes neither happy nor lovely, full of pain and misery. To sing of the idyllic pastoral life of Corydon and Phillis in the England of his time, he insisted, was only a delusion. Without flinching he disclosed the unplea- sant truth that among the abject poor, — " Where children dwell, who know no parents' care, Parents who know no children's love," — there can be only despair in living. Valour and Charity more and more." One may call Crabbe narrow if one pleases, but the power of moving readers by actual grief and suffering no one will deny him. The following is his creed, — * ' Cast by fortune on a frowning coast, Which neither groves nor happy valleys boast ; Where other cares than those the Muse relates. And other shepherds dwell with other mates j By such examples taught, I paint the cot, As truth will paint it and as bards will not : 31ntroDuction xxxvii Nor you, ye poor, of lettered scorn complain, To you the smoothest song is smooth in vain ; O'er-come by labor, and bowed down by time, Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme ? Can poets soothe you when you pine for bread, By winding myrtles round your ruin'd shed ? Can their light tales your weighty griefs o'erpower ? Or glad with airy mirth the toilsome hour ? ^ In 1785 Cower published The Task, and in 1786 Burns gave to the world the first edition of his poems. Each poet wrought his task unconscious of the exist- ence of the other. The one in the dewy meadows of Buckinghamshire, and the other on the Ayrshire hills, saw Nature as she had not been seen since the time of Chaucer — in all her freshness and beauty ; and by so revealing it made poetry simple and natural, strong and healthful, with the health and the strength of youth. Cowper — *' Loved the rural walk through lanes Of grassy swarth, close cropped by nibbling sheep, And skirted thick with intertexture firm Of thorny boughs . .. O'er hills, through valleys, and by river's brink." He loved to tend the hare which he had saved from the hunter, — " One sheltered hare Has never heard the sanguinary yell Of cruel man exulting in her woes. Yes — thou mayst eat thy bread, and lick the hand That feeds thee ; thou mayst frolic on the floor At evening, and at night retire secure To thy straw couch, and slumber unalarmed.' ' 1 The Village. xxxviii JlntroDuction Burns loved to wander — ** Whyles owre the linn the burnie plays, As thro' the glen it wimpl't ; Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays, Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't ; Whyles glitter' d to the nightly rays, Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle ; Whyles cook'd underneath the braes. Below the spreading hazel, Unseen that night." In the winter night when the " doors and whinnock " rattle, he thought * ' On the ourie cattle Or silly sheep, wha bide the brattle O' winter war. And thro the drift, deep-laiving, sprattle Beneath the scaur. ' ' Again, by revealing that the hearts as tender and true beat under the hodden gray as under royal robes, these singers made poetry democratic. Cowper wrote : — "He is the freeman whom the truth makes free. 