The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition). Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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CATULLUS.
My Lesbia, let us love and live,
And to the winds, my Lesbia, give
Each cold restraint, each boding fear
Of age and all her saws severe.
Yon sun now posting to the main 5
Will set, — but ‘tis to rise again; —
But we, when once our mortal light
Is set, must sleep in endless night.
Then come, with whom alone I’ll live,
A thousand kisses take and give! 10
Another thousand! — to the store
Add hundreds — then a thousand more!
And when they to a million mount,
Let confusion take the account, —
That you, the number never knowing, 15
May continue still bestowing —
That I for joys may never pine,
Which never can again be mine!
THE DEATH OF THE STARLING
Lugete, O Veneres, Cupidinesque. — CATULLUS.
Pity! mourn in plaintive tone
The lovely starling dead and gone!
Pity mourns in plaintive tone
The lovely starling dead and gone.
Weep, ye Loves! and Venus! weep 5
The lovely starling fall’n asleep!
Venus sees with tearful eyes —
In her lap the starling lies!
While the Loves all in a ring
Softly stroke the stiffen’d wing. 10
MORIENS SUPERSTITI
The hour-bell sounds, and I must go;
Death waits — again I hear him calling; —
No cowardly desires have I,
Nor will I shun his face appalling.
I die in faith and honour rich — 5
But ah! I leave behind my treasure
In widowhood and lonely pain; —
To live were surely then a pleasure!
My lifeless eyes upon thy face
Shall never open more tomorrow; 10
Tomorrow shall thy beauteous eyes
Be closed to Love, and drown’d in Sorrow;
Tomorrow Death shall freeze this hand,
And on thy breast, my wedded treasure,
I never, never more shall live; — 15
Alas! I quit a life of pleasure.
MORIENTI SUPERSTES
Yet art thou happier far than she
Who feels the widow’s love for thee!
For while her days are days of weeping,
Thou, in peace, in silence sleeping,
In some still world, unknown, remote, 5
The mighty parent’s care hast found,
Without whose tender guardian thought
No sparrow falleth to the ground.
THE SIGH
When Youth his faery reign began
Ere Sorrow had proclaim’d me man;
While Peace the present hour beguil’d,
And all the lovely Prospect smil’d;
Then Mary! ‘mid my lightsome glee 5
I heav’d the painless Sigh for thee.
And when, along the waves of woe,
My harass’d Heart was doom’d to know
The frantic burst of Outrage keen,
And the slow Pang that gnaws unseen; 10
Then shipwreck’d on Life’s stormy sea
I heaved an anguish’d Sigh for thee!
But soon Reflection’s power imprest
A stiller sadness on my breast;
And sickly Hope with waning eye 15
Was well content to droop and die:
I yielded to the stern decree,
Yet heav’d a languid Sigh for thee!
And though in distant climes to roam,
A wanderer from my native home, 20
I fain would soothe the sense of Care,
And lull to sleep the Joys that were!
Thy Image may not banish’d be —
Still, Mary! still I sigh for thee.
THE KISS
One kiss, dear Maid! I said and sigh’d —
Your scorn the little boon denied.
Ah why refuse the blameless bliss?
Can danger lurk within a kiss?
Yon viewless wanderer of the vale, 5
The Spirit of the Western Gale,
At Morning’s break, at Evening’s close
Inhales the sweetness of the Rose,
And hovers o’er the uninjur’d bloom
Sighing back the soft perfume. 10
Vigour to the Zephyr’s wing
Her nectar-breathing kisses fling;
And He the glitter of the Dew
Scatters on the Rose’s hue.
Bashful lo! she bends her head, 15
And darts a blush of deeper Red!
Too well those lovely lips disclose
The triumphs of the opening Rose;
O fair! O graceful! bid them prove
As passive to the breath of Love. 20
In tender accents, faint and low,
Well-pleas’d I hear the whisper’d ‘No!’
The whispered ‘No’ — how little meant!
Sweet Falsehood that endears Consent!
For on those lovely lips the while 25
Dawns the soft relenting smile,
And tempts with feign’d dissuasion coy
The gentle violence of Joy.
TO A YOUNG LADY WITH A POEM ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
Much on my early youth I love to dwell,
Ere yet I bade that friendly dome farewell,
Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters pale,
I heard of guilt and wonder’d at the tale!
Yet though the hours flew by on careless wing, 5
Full heavily of Sorrow would I sing.
Aye as the Star of Evening flung its beam
In broken radiance on the wavy stream,
My soul amid the pensive twilight gloom
Mourn’d with the breeze, O Lee Boo! o’er thy tomb. 10
Where’er