A light in sound, a sound like power in light,
Rhythm in all thought, and joyance every where -
Methinks, it should have been impossible
Not to love all things in a world so filled ;
Where the breeze warbles, and the mute still air
Is Music slumbering on her instrument.

And thus, my love! as on the midway slope Of yonder hill I stretch my limbs at noon, Whilst through my half-closed eye-lids I behold The sunbeams dance, like diamonds, on the main, And tranquil muse upon tranquillity; Full many a thought uncalled and undetained, And many idle flitting phantasies, , Traverse my indolent and passive brain, As wild and various as the random gales That swell and flutter on this subject lute

And what if all of animated nature
Be but organic harps diversely framed,
That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps
Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,
At once the Soul of each, and God of All ?

But thy more serious eye a mild reproof
Darts, O beloved woman ! nor such thoughts
Dim and unhallowed dost thou not reject,
And biddest me walk humbly with my God.
Meek daughter in the family of Christ !
Well hast thou said and holily dispraised
These shapings of the unregenerate mind;
Bubbles that glitter as they rise and break
On vain Philosophy's aye-babbling spring.
For never guiltless may I speak of him,

The Incomprehensible ! save when with awe
I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels :
Who with his saving mercies healed me,
A sinful and most miserable man,
Wildered and dark, and gave me to possess
Peace, and this cot, and thee, heart-honored Maid !

REFLECTIONS

ON HAVING LEFT A PLACE OF RETIREMENT.

Sermoni propiora.-HOR.
LOW was our pretty Cot: our tallest rose

Peeped at the chamber-window. We could

hear At silent noon, and eve, and early morn, The sea's faint murmur. In the

open

air Our myrtles blossomed ; and across the porch Thick jasmins twined; the little landscape round Was green and woody, and refreshed the eye. It was a spot which you might aptly call The Valley of Seclusion! Once I saw (Hallowing bis Sabbath-day by quietness) A wealthy son of commerce saunter by, Bristowa's citizen ; methought, it calmed His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse With wiser feelings : for he paused, and looked With a pleased sadness, and gazed all around, Then eyed our Cottage, and gazed round again, And sighed, and said it was a Blessed Place. And we were blessed. Oft with patient ear Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's note (Viewless, or haply for a moment seen

Gleaming on sunny wings) in whispered tones
I've said to my beloved, Such, sweet girl!
The inobtrusive song of happiness,
Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard
When the soul seeks to hear; when all is hushed,
And the heart listens !"

But the time, when first From that low dell, steep up the stony mount I climbed with perilous toil and reached the top, Oh! what a goodly scene ! Here the bleak mount, The bare bleak mountain speckled thin with sheep: Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields, And river, now with bushy rocks o’erbrowed, Now winding bright and full, with naked banks ; And seats, and lawns, the Abbey and the wood, And cots, and hamlets, and faint city-spire; The Channel there, the Islands and white sails, Dim coasts, and cloud-like hills, and shoreless

OceanIt seemed like Omnipresence! God, methought, Had built him there a temple; the whole World Seemed imaged in its vast circumference, No wish profaned my overwhelmed heart. Blest hour! It was a luxury,—to be!

Ah! quiet dell! dear cot, and mount sublime ! I was constrained to quit you.

Was it right, While my unnumbered brethren toiled and bled, That I should dream away the entrusted hours On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart With feelings all too delicate for use ? Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's eye Drops on the cheek of one he lifts from earth :

And he that works me good with unmoved face,
Does it but half; he chills me while he aids,
My benefactor, not my brother man !
Yet even this, this cold beneficence,
Praise, praise it, O my Soul ! oft as thou scann'st
The sluggard Pity's vision-weaving tribe!
Who sigh for wretchedness, yet shun the wretched,
Nursing in some delicious solitude
Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies !
I therefore go, and join head, heart, and hand,
Active and firm, to fight the bloodless fight
Of science, freedom, and the truth in Christ.

Yet oft when after honorable toil Rests the tired mind, and waking loves to dream, My spirit shall revisit thee, dear Cot! Thy jasmin and thy window-peeping rose, And myrtles fearless of the mild sea-air. And I shall sigh fond wishes—sweet abode ! Ah had none greater! And that all had such ! It might be so—but the time is not yet. Speed it, O Father! Let thy kingdom come!

TO THE REV. GEORGE COLERIDGE,

OF OTTERY ST. MARY, DEVON.

WITH SOME POEMS.

Notas in fratres animi paterni.-Hor. Carm. lib. 1. 2. A BLESSED lot hath he, who having passed

His youth and early manhood in the stir And turmoil of the world, retreats at length, With cares that move, not agitate the heart, To the same dwelling where his father dwelt;

And haply views his tottering little ones
Embrace those aged knees and climb that lap,
On which first kneeling his own infancy
Lisped its brief prayer. Such, O my earliest

Friend !
Thy lot, and such thy brothers too enjoy.
At distance did ye climb life's upland road,
Yet cheered and cheering ; now fraternal love
Hath drawn you to one centre. Be your days
Holy, and blest and blessing may ye live!

To me the Eternal Wisdom hath dispensed A different fortune and more different mindMe from the spot where first I sprang to light Too soon transplanted, ere my soul had fixed Its first domestic loves; and hence through life Chasing chance-started friendships. A brief while Some have preserved me from life's pelting ills ; But, like a tree with leaves of feeble stem, If the clouds lasted, and a sudden breeze Ruffled the boughs, they on my head at once Dropped the collected shower; and some most

false, False and fair foliaged as the Manchineel, Have tempted me to slumber in their shade E'en mid the storm; then breathing subtlest damps, Mixed their own venom with the rain from Heaven, That I woke poisoned ! But, all praise to Him Who gives us all things, more have yielded me Permanent shelter ; and beside one friend, Beneath the impervious covert of one oak, I've raised a lowly shed, and know the names Of husband and of father; not unhearing Of that divine and nightly-whispering voice,