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BIRTH OF THE LYRE.
Oh painting! purest, tend'rest touch,
Still keep our Eden free; Sculpture and Poetry must yield
Fame's greenest palm to thee.
Down, down through by-gone ages,
More distant, yet more far, When first from dome of heaven
Shone forth the morning star,
A ray, a hallowed line,
From out the source divine,-
Through nature's wide domain, The soul of song that charmeth,
And never charms in vain. It sought the rocky hollow,
The pine on mountain steep, The ocean's rippling wavelet,
Then pressed the billows deep, The human heart first finding,
To bard brought forth the shell, Who stretched the chords most willing
That all his soul might tell.
He told to nymphs around
And then the lyre was found;
And made the lyre her throne, When hero, saint and lover
Claimed lyrics all their own; But where the band of shadows
That touched the hallowed strings ? Go ask the trees and flowers,
The mountains, rocks and springs. The answer!—“None have left us;
The lyre her bard holds dear, While heart and wave have motion
The soul of song is here."
SWEET “Forget-me-not” under the snow,
Still “ Forget-me-not,” softly we hear;
BARK, THE FRAILEST ON THE SEA.
Bark, the frailest on the sea,
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
were abundantly blessed of God. His prayer, that God would not withdraw His Spirit, and that he might be able to evince his faith in Christ, was fully answered. His preparations for death were made long in advance, and his dying wish, that he might be as little interrupted as possible, was fully complied with. A handsome tablet has been erected in Highgate New Church, to his memory.
N. L. M.
ON HAVING LEFT A PLACE OF RETIREMENT.
OLERIDGE, the metaphysician, as he has
been called, was born in 1773, in Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, England, the son of a clergy
He received his education at Jesus College, and at Christ's Hospital. Upon his leaving college he enlisted as a common soldier in the dragoons, taking the name of Comberback. He did not long remain, however, and in connection with this, an interesting anecdote is related.
He was first known to the public by some lines inserted in Southey's “Joan of Arc," and when in 1796 a collection of his poems were published, he at once became famous. His drama, “The Fall of Robespierre,” came out soon after, followed by his “Ode to the Departing Year,” and “ Years in Solitude,” (1798). About that time he was introduced to Southey and Lovell, when the three started in to revolutionize the world by a series of lectures, beginning at Bristol, with Coleridge's lecture on the happiness of the human race, by means of republicanism. These lectures, which at first were enthusiastically received, lost their popularity and were discontinued. Another volume of poems appeared at this time, and proving a financial success, Coleridge decided to appropriate those funds to the propagation of his theory in America, under the name of Pantisocracy. Alas! cupid, in the disguise of the Frick sisters, here interfered and left America to darkness. Fortunately the Frick sisters numbered three, and the trio, Coleridge, Southey and Lovell, were brought into closer relation by marriage ties. With greater demands upon his purse, Coleridge found difficulty in making his pen provide sufficient for his needs, and the result was financial embarrassment, from which he was most fortunately relieved by the celebrated Mr. Wedgewood, who enabled him to complete his studies in Germany.
After his return home, he wrote the leading articles for the Morning Post, translated some dramas of Schiller's, and accompanied Sir Alexander Ball, as secretary, to Malta. On his return from Malta, he produced a tragedy called “Remorse,” which raised him to a much higher altitude of fame than any of his preceeding productions. He now took up his residence on the borders of one of the lakes in Cumberland and here was written “Chistabel." For nineteen years previous to his death, Coleridge resided in Hampstead with two old and valued friends; and here, one Friday in July, 1834, he breathed his last, and was laid to rest in the vault of Highgate Church, on the end of August. His last days, though full of suffering,
Low was our pretty cot! our tallest rose
But the time, when first
It seemed like omnipresence! God, methought,
Around his brows a beamy wreath
Of many a lucent hue; All purple glowed his cheek, beneath,
Inebriate with dew.
I softly seized th' unguarded power,
Nor scared his balmy rest; And placed him, caged within the flower,
On spotless Sara's breast.
But when unweeting of the guile
Awoke the pris'ner sweet, He struggled to escape awhile
And stamped his fairy feet.
Ah quiet dell! dead cot! and mount sublime!
Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight
Subdued th' impatient boy! He gazed! he thrilled with deep delight!
Then clapped his wings for joy.
And oh! he cried—'Of magic kind
What charms this throne endear! Some other Love let Venus find
I'll fix my empire here.'
THE COMPLAINT OF NINATHOMA.
How long will ye round me be swelling,
O ye blue-tumbling waves of the sea ? Not always in caves was my dwelling,
Nor beneath the cold blast of the tree. Thro' the high-sounding halls of Cathlóma
In the steps of my beauty I stray'd; The warriors beheld Ninathóma,
And they blessed the white-bosomed maid! A ghost! by my cavern it darted!
In moon-beams the spirit was drestFor lovely appear the departed
When they visit the dreams of my rest! But disturbed by the tempest's commotion
Fleet the shadowy forms of delightAh, cease, thou shrill blast of the ocean!
To howl through my cavern by night.
CUPID, if storying legends tell aright,
dove Pours the soft murmuring of responsive love. The finished work might envy vainly blame, And “kisses” was the precious compound's name. With half, the god his Cyprian mother blest, And breathed on Sara's lovelier lips the rest.
RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER.
As late each flower that sweetest blows
I plucked, the garden's pride! Within the petals of a rose
A sleeping Love I spied.
“I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand! And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.