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10. "The cold sweat melted from their limbs, Nor rot nor reek did they;

The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.

11. An orphan's curse would drag to hell A spirit from on high;

But oh! more horrible than that

Is a curse in a dead man's eye!

Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.

12. "The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide:

Softly she was going up,

And a star or two beside.

13. "Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;

But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charmèd water burnt alway

A still and awful red.

14. "Beyond the shadow of the ship
I watched the water-snakes;

They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

15. "Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:

Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.

16. "O happy living things! no tongue Their beauty might declare:

A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.

17. "The self-same moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free

The albatross fell off, and sank

Like lead into the sea."

Two dramas came from the pen of Coleridge. Zapoyla is comparatively unknown, but the other, Remorse, contains exquisite poetry, has a romantic plot, and displays at times great energy. It has elements of wild superstition in it, and there is an incantation scene, in which an invisible chorus conjures up the dead in the following tender lines:

III.-Incantation Scene.

1. Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell,
Lest a blacker charm compel!
So shall the midnight breezes swell
With thy deep, long, lingering knell.
And at evening evermore,

In a chapel on the shore,

Shall the chanters sad and saintly,
Yellow tapers burning faintly,
Doleful masses chant for thee,

Miserere Domine! a

2. Hark! the cadence dies away

On the yellow moonlight sea;

The boatmen rest their oars, and say,

Miserere Domine!

As a specimen of Coleridge's power of animated descrip

a Mis'e-re're Dom'i-ne, O Lord! have mercy.

tion, we quote, from the same tragedy, Alhadra's account, to the Moriscoes, of her husband's death.

III. Alhadra's Account.

1. This night your chieftain armed himself
And hurried from me. But I followed him
At distance, till I saw him enter—there!-
Yes, the mouth of yonder cavern.

2.

3.

After a while I saw the son of Valdez

Rush by with flaming torch: he likewise entered.
There was another and a longer pause;

And once methought I heard the clash of swords!
And soon the son of Valdez reappeared;

He flung his torch towards the moon in sport,
And seemed as he was mirthful; I stood listening,
Impatient for the footsteps of my husband.

I crept into the cavern

'Twas dark and very silent. What said'st thou? No, no! I did not dare call Isidore,

Lest I should hear no answer.

A brief while,
Belike, I lost all thought and memory

Of that for which I came. After that pause-
O Heaven! I heard a groan, and followed it;
And yet another groan, which guided me
Into a strange recess, and there was light,-
A hideous light! his torch lay on the ground;
Its flame burned dimly o'er a chasm's brink.
I spake; and, whilst I spake, a feeble groan

Came from that chasm! it was his last,-his death-groan.
I stood in unimaginable trance,

And agony that cannot be remembered,

Listening with horrid hope to hear a groan!

But I had heard his last, my husband's death-groan!

I looked far down the pit

My sight was bounded by a jutting fragment;

And it was stained with blood. Then first I shrieked,
My eyeballs burned, my brain grew hot as fire!
And all the hanging drops of the wet roof
Turned into blood-I saw them turn to blood!-
And I was leaping wildly down the chasm,
When on the farther brink I saw his sword,

And it said, Vengeance! Curses on my tongue!
The moon hath moved in heaven, and I am here,
And he hath not had vengeance.

The influence of Coleridge was far greater than his published works indicated, for he was a fascinating talker, and was exceedingly suggestive to those who listened to him. He had a fine face, and a rich, melodious voice, and he talked with the happiest fluency. He could hardly be said to converse, as he occupied the time uninterruptedly, which led Charles Lamb to retort, when the poet asked if he had ever heard him preach, "I never heard you do anything else."

The last nineteen years of his life Coleridge passed as an inmate of the house of Mr. James Gilman, in Highgate, London. A few months before his death, he composed for himself the following simple and humble

Epitaph.

Stop, Christian passer-by! Stop, child of God!
And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seemed he-
Oh! lift a thought in prayer for s. T. c.!
That he who, many a year, with toil of breath,
Found death in life, may here find life in death!
Mercy, for praise-to be forgiven, for fame:

He asked and hoped through Christ-do thou the same.

CHAPTER XXXVI.-MISCELLANEOUS.

The Face against the Pane.

1. Mabel, little Mabel,

With her face against the pane,
Looks out across the night,
And sees the beacon-light
A trembling in the rain.
She hears the sea-bird screech,
And the breakers on the beach
Making moan, making moan,
And the wind about the eaves
Of the cottage sobs and grieves,
And the willow-tree is blown
To and fro, to and fro,

Till it seems like some old crone

Standing out there all alone with her woe,

Wringing as she stands

Her gaunt and palsied hands;

While Mabel, timid Mabel,

With her face against the pane,
Looks out across the night,
And sees the beacon-light
A trembling in the rain.

2. Set the table, maiden Mabel, And make the cabin warm;

Your little fisher lover

Is out there in the storm;

And your father, you are weeping!

O, Mabel, timid Mabel,

Go spread the supper-table,
And set the tea a steeping;
Your lover's heart is brave,
His boat is stanch and tight,

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