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　　POEMS IN COLERIDGE'S POEMS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, 1796

　　(Written late in 1794. Text of 1797)

　　As when a child on some long winter's night

　　Affrighted clinging to its Grandam's knees

　　With eager wond'ring and perturb'd delight

　　Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees

　　Mutter'd to wretch by necromantic spell;

　　Or of those hags, who at the witching time

　　Of murky midnight ride the air sublime,

　　And mingle foul embrace with fiends of Hell:

　　Cold Horror drinks its blood! Anon the tear

　　More gentle starts, to hear the Beldame tell

　　Of pretty babes, that lov'd each other dear,

　　Murder'd by cruel Uncle's mandate fell:

　　Ev'n such the shiv'ring joys thy tones impart,

　　Ev'n so thou, SIDDONS! meltest my sad heart!

　　(Probably 1795. Text of 1818)

　　Was it some sweet device of Faery

　　That mocked my steps with many a lonely glade,

　　And fancied wanderings with a fair-hair'd maid?

　　Have these things been? or what rare witchery,

　　Impregning with delights the charmed air,

　　Enlighted up the semblance of a smile

　　In those fine eyes? methought they spake the while

　　Soft soothing things, which might enforce despair

　　To drop the murdering knife, and let go by

　　His foul resolve. And does the lonely glade

　　Still court the foot-steps of the fair-hair'd maid?

　　Still in her locks the gales of summer sigh?

　　While I forlorn do wander reckless where,

　　And 'mid my wanderings meet no Anna there.

　　(Probably 1795. Text of 1818)

　　Methinks how dainty sweet it were, reclin'd

　　Beneath the vast out-stretching branches high

　　Of some old wood, in careless sort to lie,

　　Nor of the busier scenes we left behind

　　Aught envying. And, O Anna! mild-eyed maid!

　　Beloved! I were well content to play

　　With thy free tresses all a summer's day,

　　Losing the time beneath the greenwood shade.

　　Or we might sit and tell some tender tale

　　Of faithful vows repaid by cruel scorn,

　　A tale of true love, or of friend forgot;

　　And I would teach thee, lady, how to rail

　　In gentle sort, on those who practise not

　　Or love or pity, though of woman born.

　　(1794. Text of 1818)

　　O! I could laugh to hear the midnight wind,

　　That, rushing on its way with careless sweep,

　　Scatters the ocean waves. And I could weep

　　Like to a child. For now to my raised mind

　　On wings of winds comes wild-eyed Phantasy,

　　And her rude visions give severe delight.

　　O winged bark! how swift along the night

　　Pass'd thy proud keel! nor shall I let go by

　　Lightly of that drear hour the memory,

　　When wet and chilly on thy deck I stood,

　　Unbonnetted, and gazed upon the flood,

　　Even till it seemed a pleasant thing to die,—

　　To be resolv'd into th' elemental wave,

　　Or take my portion with the winds that rave. The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4