The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume II Part 195

G.o.d in G.o.d immanent, distinct yet one!

Omnific, Omniform. The Immoveable, That goes forth and remains, eke----and at once 10 Dawns, rises, and sets and crowns the height of Heaven!

[Cf. _Anima Poetae_, 1895, p. 162.]

Such Symphony demands best Instrument.

Seize then, my soul! from Freedom's trophied dome.

The harp which hanging high between the shields Of Brutus and Leonidas, gives oft 15 A fateful Music, when with breeze-like Touch Pure spirits thrill its strings: the Poet's heart Listens, and smiling knows that Poets demand Once more to live for Man and work by Fame: For what is Freedom, but th' unfetter'd use 20 Of all the Powers, which G.o.d for use had given!

Thro' the sweet Influence of harmonious Word----

The zephyr-travell'd Harp, that flashes forth Jets and low wooings of wild melody That sally forth and seek the meeting Ear, 25 Then start away, half-wanton, half-afraid Like the red-breast forced by wintry snows, In the first visits by the genial Hearth, From the fair Hand, that tempts it to-- Or like a course of flame, from the deep sigh 30 Of the idly-musing Lover dreaming of his Love With thoughts and hopes and fears, {sinking, s.n.a.t.c.hing, {as warily, upward Bending, recoiling, fluttering as itself

And cheats us with false prophecies of sound

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[9] i. e. jure suo, by any inherent Right.

[DRAFT III]

Auspicious Reverence! Hush all meaner song, Till we the deep prelusive strain have pour'd To the Great Father, only Rightful king, All Gracious Father, king Omnipotent!

To Him, the inseparate, unconfounded TRINE, 5 MIND! Co-eternal WORD! Forth-breathing SOUND!

Birth! and PROCESSION! Ever-circling ACT!

G.o.d in G.o.d immanent, distinct yet one!

Sole Rest, true Substance of all finite Being!

Omnific! Omniform! The Immoveable, 10 That goes forth and remaineth: and at once Dawns, rises, sets and crowns the height of Heaven!

Such Symphony demands best Instrument.

Seize then, my Soul! from Freedom's trophied dome The Harp, that hanging high between the Shields 15 Of Brutus and Leonidas, flashes forth Starts of shrill-music, when with breeze-like Touch Departed Patriots thrill the----

D

Pa.s.sAGES IN SOUTHEY'S _Joan of Arc_ (FIRST EDITION, 1796) CONTRIBUTED BY S. T. COLERIDGE[1027:1].

[Vide _ante_, p. 131]

BOOK I, ll. 33-51.

_"O France," he cried, "my country"!_ When soft as breeze that curls the summer clouds At close of day, stole on his ear a voice 35 Seraphic.

"Son of Orleans! grieve no more.

His eye not slept, tho' long the All-just endured The woes of France; at length his bar'd right arm Volleys red thunder. From his veiling clouds Rushes the storm, Ruin and Fear and Death. 40 Take Son of Orleans the relief of Heaven: Nor thou the wintry hours of adverse fate Dream useless: tho' unhous'd thou roam awhile, The keen and icy wind that shivers _thee_ Shall brace thine arm, and with stern discipline 45 Firm thy strong heart for fearless enterprise As who, through many a summer night serene Had hover'd round the fold with coward wish; Horrid with brumal ice, the fiercer wolf From his bleak mountain and his den of snows 50 Leaps terrible and mocks the shepherd's spears."

ll. 57-59.

_nor those ingredients dire Erictho mingled on Pharsalia's field_, Making the soul retenant its cold corse.

ll. 220-222.

the groves of Paradise Gave their mild echoes to the choral songs Of new-born beings.--

ll. 267-280.

_And oft the tear from his averted eye He dried; mindful of fertile fields laid waste_, Dispeopled hamlets, the lorn widow's groan, And the pale orphan's feeble cry for bread. 270 But when he told of those fierce sons of guilt That o'er this earth which G.o.d had fram'd so fair-- Spread desolation, and its wood-crown'd hills Make echo to the merciless war-dog's howl; And how himself from such foul savagery 275 Had scarce escap'd with life, then his stretch'd arm Seem'd, as it wielded the resistless sword Of Vengeance: in his eager eye the soul Was eloquent; warm glow'd his manly cheek; And beat against his side the indignant heart. 280

ll. 454-460.

_then methought_ From a dark lowering cloud, the womb of tempests, 455 A giant arm burst forth and dropt a sword That pierc'd like lightning thro' the midnight air.

Then was there heard a voice, which in mine ear Shall echo, at that hour of dreadful joy When the pale foe shall wither in my rage. 460

ll. 484-496[1029:1]

Last evening lone in thought I wandered forth.

Down in the dingle's depth there is a brook 485 That makes its way between the craggy stones, Murmuring hoa.r.s.e murmurs. On an aged oak Whose root uptorn by tempests overhangs The stream, I sat, and mark'd the deep red clouds Gather before the wind, while the rude dash 490 Of waters rock'd my senses, and the mists Rose round: there as I gazed, a form dim-seen Descended, like the dark and moving clouds That in the moonbeam change their shadowy shapes.

His voice was on the breeze; he bade me hail 495 The missioned Maid! for lo! the hour was come.

BOOK III, ll. 73-82.

_Martyr'd patriots--spirits pure Wept by the good ye fell! Yet still survives_ Sow'd by your toil and by your blood manur'd 75 Th' imperishable seed, soon to become The Tree, beneath whose vast and mighty shade The sons of men shall pitch their tents in peace, And in the unity of truth preserve The bond of love. For by the eye of G.o.d 80 Hath Virtue sworn, that never one good act Was work'd in vain.

BOOK IV, ll. 328-336.

_The murmuring tide Lull'd her, and many a pensive pleasing dream_ Rose in sad shadowy trains at Memory's call. 330 She thought of Arc, and of the dingled brook, Whose waves oft leaping on their craggy course Made dance the low-hung willow's dripping twigs; And where it spread into a gla.s.sy lake, _Of the old oak which on the smooth expanse, 335 Imag'd its h.o.a.ry mossy-mantled boughs_.

FOOTNOTES:

[1027:1] Over and above the contributions to the Second Book of the _Joan of Arc_, which Southey acknowledged, and which were afterwards embodied in the _Destiny of Nations_, Coleridge claimed a number of pa.s.sages in Books I, III, and IV. The pa.s.sages are marked by S. T. C. in an annotated copy of the First Edition 4{o}, at one time the property of Coleridge's friend W. Hood of Bristol, and afterwards of John Taylor Brown. See _North British Review_, January, 1864.

[1029:1] Suggested and in part written by S. T. C.

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