Fragments from a Notebook by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Lyrics
1
Light cargoes waft of modulated Sound
From viewless Hybla brought, when Melodies
Like Birds of Paradise on wings, that aye
Disport in wild variety of hues,
Murmur around the honey-dropping flower.
2
Broad-breasted rock—hanging cliff that glasses
His rugged forehead in the calmy sea.
3
Where Cam his stealthy flowings most dissembles
And scarce the Willow's watery shadow trembles.
4
With secret hand heal the conjectur'd wound,
[or]
Guess at the wound, and heal with secret hand.
5
Outmalic'd Calumny's imposthum'd Tongue.
6
And write Impromptus
Spurring their Pegasus to tortoise gallop.
7
Due to the Staggerers, that made drunk by Power
Forget thirst's eager promise, and presume,
Dark Dreamers! that the world forgets it too.
8
Perish warmth
Unfaithful to its seeming!
9
Old age, 'the shape and messenger of Death,'
'His wither'd Fist still knocking at Death's door.'
'His wither'd fist stil knocking at deathes dore,
Tumbling and driveling as he drawes his breth;
For briefe, the shape and messenger of death.'
10
God no distance knows,
All of the whole possessing!
11
Wherefore art thou come? doth not the Creator of all things know all things? And if thou art come to seek him, know that where thou wast, there he was.
12
And cauldrons the scoop'd earth, a boiling sea.
13
Rush on my ear, a cataract of sound.
14
The guilty pomp, consuming while it flares.
15
My heart seraglios a whole host of Joys.
16
And Pity's sigh shall answer thy tale of Anguish
Like the faint echo of a distant valley.
17
A DUNGEON
In darkness I remain'd—the neighb'ring clock
Told me that now the rising sun shone lovely
On my garden.
18
The Sun (for now his orb 'gan slowly sink)
Shot half his rays aslant the heath whose flowers
Purpled the mountain's broad and level top;
Rich was his bed of clouds, and wide beneath
Expecting Ocean smiled with dimpled face.
19
Leanness, disquietude, and secret Pangs.
20
Smooth, shining, and deceitful as thin Ice.
21
Wisdom, Mother of retired Thought.
22
Nature wrote Rascal on his face,
By chalcographic art!
23
In this world we dwell among the tombs
And touch the pollutions of the Dead.
24
The mild despairing of a Heart resigned.
25
Such fierce vivacity as fires the eye
Of Genius fancy-craz'd.
26
——like a mighty Giantess
Seiz'd in sore travail and prodigious birth
Sick Nature struggled: long and strange her pangs;
Her groans were horrible, but O! most fair
The Twins she bore—Equality and Peace!
27
Discontent
Mild as an infant low-plaining in its sleep.
28
——terrible and loud,
As the strong Voice that from the Thunder-cloud
Speaks to the startled Midnight.
29
The swallows
Interweaving there, mid the pair'd sea-mews
At distance wildly-wailing!
30
The Brook runs over sea-weeds.
Sabbath day—from the Miller's merry wheel
The water-drops dripp'd leisurely.
31
On the broad mountain-top
The neighing wild-colt races with the wind
O'er fern and heath-flowers.
32
A long deep lane
So overshadow'd, it might seem one bower—
The damp clay-banks were furr'd with mouldy moss.
33
Broad-breasted Pollards, with broad-branching heads.
34
'Twas sweet to know it only possible—
Some wishes cross'd my mind and dimly cheer'd it—
And one or two poor melancholy Pleasures—
In these, the pale unwarming light of Hope
Silv'ring their flimsy wing, flew silent by,
Moths in the Moonlight.
35
Behind the thin
Grey cloud that cover'd but not hid the sky
The round full moon look'd small.
36
The subtle snow
In every breeze rose curling from the Grove
Like pillars of cottage smoke.
37
The sunshine lies on the cottage-wall,
A-shining thro' the snow.
38
And how he cross'd the woodman's paths,
Thro' briars and swampy mosses beat;
How boughs rebounding scourg'd his limbs,
And low stubs gor'd his feet.
39
HYMNS—MOON
In a cave in the mountains of Cashmeer, an image of ice, which makes its appearance thus: Two days before the new moon there appears a bubble of ice, which increases in size every day till the fifteenth day, at which it is an ell or more in height;—then, as the moon decreases the Image does also till it vanishes.
40
The tongue can't speak when the mouth is cramm'd with earth—
A little mould fills up most eloquent mouths,
And a square stone with a few pious texts
Cut neatly on it, keeps the mould down tight.
41
And with my whole heart sing the stately song,
Loving the God that made me.
42
God's Image, Sister of the Cherubim!
43
And re-implace God's Image in the Soul.
44
And arrows steeled with wrath.
45
Lov'd the same Love, and hated the same hate,
Breath'd in his soul! etc. etc.
46
O man! thou half-dead Angel!
47
Thy stern and sullen eye, and thy dark brow
Chill me, like dew-damps of th' unwholesome Night.
My Love, a timorous and tender flower,
Closes beneath thy Touch, unkindly man!
Breath'd on by gentle gales of Courtesy
And cheer'd by sunshine of impassion'd look—
Then opes its petals of no vulgar hues.
48
With skill that never Alchemist yet told,
Made drossy Lead as ductile as pure Gold.
49
Grant me a Patron, gracious Heaven! whene'er
My unwash'd follies call for Penance drear:
But when more hideous guilt this heart infests
Instead of fiery coals upon my Pate,
O let a titled Patron be my Fate;—
That fierce Compendium of Ægyptian Pests!
Right reverend Dean, right honourable Squire,
Lord, Marquis, Earl, Duke, Prince,—or if aught higher,
However proudly nicknamed, he shall be
Anathema Maránatha to me!
Light cargoes waft of modulated Sound
From viewless Hybla brought, when Melodies
Like Birds of Paradise on wings, that aye
Disport in wild variety of hues,
Murmur around the honey-dropping flower.
2
Broad-breasted rock—hanging cliff that glasses
His rugged forehead in the calmy sea.
3
Where Cam his stealthy flowings most dissembles
And scarce the Willow's watery shadow trembles.
4
With secret hand heal the conjectur'd wound,
[or]
Guess at the wound, and heal with secret hand.
5
Outmalic'd Calumny's imposthum'd Tongue.
6
And write Impromptus
Spurring their Pegasus to tortoise gallop.
7
Due to the Staggerers, that made drunk by Power
Forget thirst's eager promise, and presume,
Dark Dreamers! that the world forgets it too.
8
Perish warmth
Unfaithful to its seeming!
9
Old age, 'the shape and messenger of Death,'
'His wither'd Fist still knocking at Death's door.'
'His wither'd fist stil knocking at deathes dore,
Tumbling and driveling as he drawes his breth;
For briefe, the shape and messenger of death.'
10
God no distance knows,
All of the whole possessing!
11
Wherefore art thou come? doth not the Creator of all things know all things? And if thou art come to seek him, know that where thou wast, there he was.
12
And cauldrons the scoop'd earth, a boiling sea.
13
Rush on my ear, a cataract of sound.
14
The guilty pomp, consuming while it flares.
15
My heart seraglios a whole host of Joys.
16
And Pity's sigh shall answer thy tale of Anguish
Like the faint echo of a distant valley.
17
A DUNGEON
In darkness I remain'd—the neighb'ring clock
Told me that now the rising sun shone lovely
On my garden.
18
The Sun (for now his orb 'gan slowly sink)
Shot half his rays aslant the heath whose flowers
Purpled the mountain's broad and level top;
Rich was his bed of clouds, and wide beneath
Expecting Ocean smiled with dimpled face.
19
Leanness, disquietude, and secret Pangs.
20
Smooth, shining, and deceitful as thin Ice.
21
Wisdom, Mother of retired Thought.
22
Nature wrote Rascal on his face,
By chalcographic art!
23
In this world we dwell among the tombs
And touch the pollutions of the Dead.
24
The mild despairing of a Heart resigned.
25
Such fierce vivacity as fires the eye
Of Genius fancy-craz'd.
26
——like a mighty Giantess
Seiz'd in sore travail and prodigious birth
Sick Nature struggled: long and strange her pangs;
Her groans were horrible, but O! most fair
The Twins she bore—Equality and Peace!
27
Discontent
Mild as an infant low-plaining in its sleep.
28
——terrible and loud,
As the strong Voice that from the Thunder-cloud
Speaks to the startled Midnight.
29
The swallows
Interweaving there, mid the pair'd sea-mews
At distance wildly-wailing!
30
The Brook runs over sea-weeds.
Sabbath day—from the Miller's merry wheel
The water-drops dripp'd leisurely.
31
On the broad mountain-top
The neighing wild-colt races with the wind
O'er fern and heath-flowers.
32
A long deep lane
So overshadow'd, it might seem one bower—
The damp clay-banks were furr'd with mouldy moss.
33
Broad-breasted Pollards, with broad-branching heads.
34
'Twas sweet to know it only possible—
Some wishes cross'd my mind and dimly cheer'd it—
And one or two poor melancholy Pleasures—
In these, the pale unwarming light of Hope
Silv'ring their flimsy wing, flew silent by,
Moths in the Moonlight.
35
Behind the thin
Grey cloud that cover'd but not hid the sky
The round full moon look'd small.
36
The subtle snow
In every breeze rose curling from the Grove
Like pillars of cottage smoke.
37
The sunshine lies on the cottage-wall,
A-shining thro' the snow.
38
And how he cross'd the woodman's paths,
Thro' briars and swampy mosses beat;
How boughs rebounding scourg'd his limbs,
And low stubs gor'd his feet.
39
HYMNS—MOON
In a cave in the mountains of Cashmeer, an image of ice, which makes its appearance thus: Two days before the new moon there appears a bubble of ice, which increases in size every day till the fifteenth day, at which it is an ell or more in height;—then, as the moon decreases the Image does also till it vanishes.
40
The tongue can't speak when the mouth is cramm'd with earth—
A little mould fills up most eloquent mouths,
And a square stone with a few pious texts
Cut neatly on it, keeps the mould down tight.
41
And with my whole heart sing the stately song,
Loving the God that made me.
42
God's Image, Sister of the Cherubim!
43
And re-implace God's Image in the Soul.
44
And arrows steeled with wrath.
45
Lov'd the same Love, and hated the same hate,
Breath'd in his soul! etc. etc.
46
O man! thou half-dead Angel!
47
Thy stern and sullen eye, and thy dark brow
Chill me, like dew-damps of th' unwholesome Night.
My Love, a timorous and tender flower,
Closes beneath thy Touch, unkindly man!
Breath'd on by gentle gales of Courtesy
And cheer'd by sunshine of impassion'd look—
Then opes its petals of no vulgar hues.
48
With skill that never Alchemist yet told,
Made drossy Lead as ductile as pure Gold.
49
Grant me a Patron, gracious Heaven! whene'er
My unwash'd follies call for Penance drear:
But when more hideous guilt this heart infests
Instead of fiery coals upon my Pate,
O let a titled Patron be my Fate;—
That fierce Compendium of Ægyptian Pests!
Right reverend Dean, right honourable Squire,
Lord, Marquis, Earl, Duke, Prince,—or if aught higher,
However proudly nicknamed, he shall be
Anathema Maránatha to me!