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And, through her depths, Saint Mary's Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss,

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A covert for protection

Of tender thoughts, that nestle there The brood of chaste affection.

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Eternal blessings on the Muse,

And her divine employment! The blameless Muse, who trains her Sons For hope and calm enjoyment; Albeit sickness, lingering yet,

Has o'er their pillow brooded;
And Care waylays their steps - a Sprite
Not easily eluded.

For thee, O SCOTT! compelled to change
Green Eildon-hill and Cheviot
For warm Vesuvio's vine-clad slopes;
And leave thy Tweed and Tiviot
For mild Sorento's breezy waves;
May classic Fancy, linking
With native Fancy her fresh aid,
Preserve thy heart from sinking!

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Oh! while they minister to thee,

Each vying with the other,
May Health return to mellow Age

With Strength, her venturous brother; 60
And Tiber, and each brook and rill
Renowned in song and story,
With unimagined beauty shine,
Nor lose one ray of glory!

For Thou, upon a hundred streams,
By tales of love and sorrow,
Of faithful love, undaunted truth,
Hast shed the power of Yarrow;
And streams unknown, hills yet unseen,
Wherever they invite Thee,
At parent Nature's grateful call,

With gladness must requite Thee.

A gracious welcome shall be thine,
Such looks of love and honour
As thy own Yarrow gave to me
When first I gazed upon her;
Beheld what I had feared to see,
Unwilling to surrender

Dreams treasured up from early days,
The holy and the tender.

And what, for this frail world, were all
That mortals do or suffer,
Did no responsive harp, no pen,
Memorial tribute offer?

Yea, what were mighty Nature's self?
Her features, could they win us,
Unhelped by the poetic voice

That hourly speaks within us?

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70

80

90

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Ir this great world of joy and pain Revolve in one sure track;

If freedom, set, will rise again,

And virtue, flown, come back; Woe to the purblind crew who fill The heart with each day's care; Nor gain, from past or future, skill To bear, and to forbear!

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT

MARINER

IN SEVEN PARTS

Facile credo, plures esse Naturas invisibiles quam visibiles in rerum universitate. Sed horum omnium familiam quis nobis enarrabit? et gradus et cognationes et discrimina et singulorum munera? Quid agunt ? quæ loca habitant? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquam attigit. Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque in animo, tanquam in tabula, majoris et melioris mundi imaginem contemplari ne mens assuefacta hodiernæ vitæ minutiis se contralat nimis, et tota subsidat in pusillas cogitationes. Sed veritati interea invigilandum est, modusque servandus, ut certa ab incertis, diem a nocte, distinguamus. -T. BURNET, Archæol. Phil. p. 68.

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