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notion of his eloquence and manner, — of the hold which he soon got on his audienceof the variety of his stores of information or, finally, of the artlessness of his habits, or the modesty and temper with which he listened to, and answered arguments, contradictory to his own.”-J. T. C.



The following Pieces were accidentally omitted in

the Collection of Mr. Coleridge's Poetical Works lately published.



(Composed during illness and in absence.)

Dim Hour! that sleep’st on pillowing clouds afar,
O rise and yoke the turtles to thy car!
Bend o’er the traces, blame each lingering dove,
And give me to the bosom of my Love!
My gentle Love, caressing and carest,
With heaving heart shall cradle me to rest;
Shed the warm tear-drop from her smiling eyes,
Lull with fond woe, and med'cine me with sighs;
While finely-flushing float her kisses meek,
Like melted rubies, o'er my pallid cheek.
Chilld by the night, the drooping Rose of May
Mourns the long absence of the lovely Day:
Young Day returning at her promised hour
Weeps o'er the sorrows of her fav’rite flower;

Weeps the soft dew, the balmy gale she sighs,
And darts a trembling lustre from her eyes.
New life and joy th' expanding flow'ret feels:
His pitying mistress mourns, and mourning heals !*


The Butterfly the ancient Grecians made
The Soul's fair emblem, and its only name —
But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade
Of mortal life! For in this earthly frame
Ours is the reptile's lot, much toil, much blame,
Manifold motions making little speed,
And to deform and kill the things, whereon we feed.

* A lady, who had read the Ancient Mariner and Christabel, told Mr. Coleridge, after reading the above lines, “ that now she did, indeed, see that he was a poet!” And the poet bade me preserve the verses for the sake of the criticism. — ED.

How seldom, friend ! a good great man inherits
Honour or wealth with all his worth and pains !
It sounds like stories from the land of spirits,
If any man obtain that which he merits,
Or any merit that which he obtains.

REPROOF. For shame, dear friend ! renounce this canting strain ! What would'st thou have a good great man obtain ? Place — titles — salary — a gilded chain ? Or throne of corses which his sword hath slain ? Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends ! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, [Light, The good great man? Three treasures — Love, and And calm Thoughts, regular as infant's breath; — And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.

INSCRIPTION FOR A TIME-PIECE. NOW! It is gone. — Our brief hours travel post, Each with its thought or deed, its Why, or How:But know, each parting hour gives up a ghost To dwell within thee -- an eternal NOW!


Translated from the Hebrew of Hymen Hurwitz.

Mourn, Israel ! Sons of Israel, mourn!

Give utterance to the inward throe,
As wails of her first love forlorn

The virgin clad in robes of woe !

Mourn the young Mother snatch'd away

From light and life's ascending sun! ..
Mourn for the Babe, Death's voiceless prey,

Earn’d by long pangs, and lost ere won!

Mourn the bright Rose that bloom'd, and went

Ere half disclosed its vernal hue !
Mourn the green Bud, so rudely rent,

It brake the stem on which it grew!

Mourn for the universal woe

With solemn dirge and falt'ring tongue;
For England's Lady is laid low,

So dear, so lovely, and so young!

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