“JOY THAT NE'ER WAS GIVEN, SAVE TO THE PURE, AND IN THEIR PUREST HOUR,-(S. T. COLERIDGE) 66 129 'OH, NEVER RUDELY WILL I BLAME HIS FAITH— COLERIDGE) KUBLA KHAN; OR, A VISION IN A DREAM. A mighty fountain momently was forced; Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, The shadow of the dome of pleasure From the fountain and the caves. A damsel with her dulcimer Could I revive within me That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all should cry, Beware! beware His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, IN THE MIGHT OF STARS AND ANGELS."-S. T. COLERIDGE. JOY IS THE SPIRIT AND THE POWER WHICH WEDDING NATURE GIVES TO US IN DOWER."-COLERIDGE. OH, IT IS PLEASANT, WITH A HEART AT EASE,-(SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE) 130 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. And close your eyes with holy dread, And drunk the milk of Paradise. [Commenting on the fourth and fifth lines of this magnificent piece of féerie, Leigh Hunt exclaims: "What a grand flood is this, flowing down through measureless caverns to a sea without a sun! I know no other sea equal to it; except Keats's, in his 'Ode to a Nightingale '—and none can surpass that."] "THE EARNEST STAR OF MANHOOD, MUSING WHAT AND WHENCE IS MAN!"-S. T. COLERIDGE. TO MAKE THE SHIFTING CLOUDS BE WHAT YOU PLEASE. "DELIGHT IN LITTLE THINGS, THE BUOYANT CHILD SURVIVING IN THE MAN."-S. T. COLERIDGE. "ALL NATURE SEEMS AT WORK SLUGS LEAVE THEIR LAIR; THE BEES ARE STIRRING: BIRDS ON THE WING: "THE BUTTERFLY THE ANCIENT GRECIANS MADE-(S. T. COLERIDGE) THE SOUL'S FAIR EMBLEM, AND ITS ONLY NAME."-S. T. COLERIDGE. AND WINTER SLUMBERING IN THE OPEN AIR, WEARS ON HIS SMILING FACE A DREAM OF SPRING!"-COLERIDGE. YE EAGLES, PLAYMATES OF THE MOUNTAIN-STORM! YE LIGHTNINGS, THE DREAD ARROWS OF THE CLOUDS!-COLERIDGE) YE SIGNS AND WONDERS OF THE ELEMENT! UTTER FORTH GOD, AND FILL THE HILLS WITH PRAISE!"-S. T. COLERIDGE. THAT DREAD AMBASSADOR FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN, GREAT HIERARCH! TELL THOU THE SILENT SKY,—(COLERIDGE) ["This is one of the most perfect poems-for style, feeling, and everything-that ever was written."-Leigh Hunt.) THE NIGHTINGALE. O cloud, no relique of the sunken day THOU KINGLY SPIRIT THRONED AMONG THE HILLS, AND TELL THE STARS, AND TELL YON RISING SUN,-EARTH, WITH THOUSAND VOICES, PRAISES GOD!"-Coleridge. |