HARTLEY COLERIDGE. 1796-1849.

FAITH.

Too true it is, my time of power was spent

In idly watering weeds of casual growth,—
That wasted energy to desperate sloth
Declined, and fond self-seeking discontent,-
That the huge debt for all that Nature lent
I sought to cancel,-and was nothing loth
To deem myself an outlaw, severed both
From duty and from hope,-yea, blindly sent
Without an errand, where I would to stray :—
Too true it is that knowing now my state,
I weakly mourn the sin I ought to hate,
Nor love the law I yet would fain obey:
But true it is, above all law and fate

Is Faith, abiding the appointed day.

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

1796-1849.

THE UNPARDONABLE SIN.

IF I have sinned in act, I may repent;

If I have erred in thought, I may disclaim

And shed their influence on this passive ball,

Abides a power that can my soul absolve?
Could any sin survive and be forgiven-

One sinful wish would make a hell of heaven.

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

1796-1849.

NIGHT.

THE crackling embers on the hearth are dead;

The indoor note of industry is still;

The latch is fast; upon the window sill

The small birds wait not for their daily bread;
The voiceless flowers-how quietly they shed
Their nightly odours ;—and the household rill
Murmurs continuous dulcet sounds that fill
The vacant expectation, and the dread

Of listening night. And haply now She sleeps ;

For all the garrulous noises of the air

Are hushed in peace; the soft dew silent weeps,

Like hopeless lovers for a maid so fair

Oh! that I were the happy dream that

creeps

To her soft heart, to find my image there.

TO A LOFTY BEAUTY FROM HER POOR KINSMAN.

HARTLEY COLERIDGE. 1796-1849.

FAIR maid, had I not heard thy baby cries,

Nor seen thy girlish, sweet vicissitude,

Thy mazy motions, striving to elude,

Yet wooing still a parent's watchful eyes,

Thy humours, many as the opal's dyes,

And lovely all;-methinks thy scornful mood,
And bearing high of stately womanhood,—

Thy brow, where Beauty sits to tyrannize

O'er humble love, had made me sadly fear thee;

For never sure was seen a royal bride

Whose gentleness gave grace to so much pride,-
My very thoughts would tremble to be near thee;
But when I see thee at thy father's side,

Old times unqueen thee, and old loves endear thee,

HOMER.

HARTLEY FAR from the sight of earth, yet bright and plain

COLERIDGE.

1796-1849.

As the clear noon-day sun, an 'orb of song'

Lovely and bright is seen, amid the throng

Of lesser stars, that rise, and wax, and wane,

The transient rulers of the fickle main,

One constant light gleams through the dark and long

And narrow aisle of memory. How strong,

How fortified with all the numerous train

Of truths wert thou, Great Poet of mankind,
Who told'st in verse as mighty as the sea,
And various as the voices of the wind,
The strength of passion rising in the glee
Of battle. Fear was glorified by thee,
And Death is lovely in thy tale enshrined.