To the Rev. W. L. Bowles by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Lyrics

My heart has thank'd thee, Bowles! for those soft strains,
        That, on the still air floating, tremblingly
        Wak'd in me Fancy, Love, and Sympathy!
For hence, not callous to a Brother's pains

Thro' Youth's gay prime and thornless paths I went;
        And, when the darker day of life began,
        And I did roam, a thought-bewilder'd man!
Thy kindred Lays an healing solace lent,

Each lonely pang with dreamy joys combin'd,
        And stole from vain Regret her scorpion stings;
        While shadowy Pleasure, with mysterious wings,
Brooded the wavy and tumultuous mind,

Like that great Spirit, who with plastic sweep
Mov'd on the darkness of the formless Deep!


[SECOND VERSION]
My heart has thank'd thee, Bowles! for those soft strains
        Whose sadness soothes me, like the murmuring
        Of wild-bees in the sunny showers of spring!
For hence not callous to the mourner's pains

Through Youth's gay prime and thornless paths I went:
        And when the mightier Throes of mind began,
        And drove me forth, a thought-bewilder'd man,
Their mild and manliest melancholy lent

A mingled charm, such as the pang consign'd
        To slumber, though the big tear it renew'd;
        Bidding a strange mysterious Pleasure brood
Over the wavy and tumultuous mind,

As the great Spirit erst with plastic sweep
Mov'd on the darkness of the unform'd deep.