The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb
Chapter 291 : As it happened Coleridge did not begin his second edition with the "Joan of Arc&q

As it happened Coleridge did not begin his second edition with the "Joan of Arc" lines, but with the "Ode to the New Year." The "Religious Musings" brought Coleridge's part of the volume to a close.

The poem on page 73 was "In the Manner of Spenser." The poems on pages 40, 63, 84, we know; that on page 86 was "The Complaint of Ninathoma."

"To Genevieve" was on page 62. That on page 119 was "To a Friend in Answer to a Melancholy Letter." Coleridge never restored the phrase "wine-cheer'd moments" to "The Man of Ross." He did not change "foodful"

to "dulcet" in "To an Infant." He did not alter "moveless" to "moping"

in "The Young a.s.s." He left the Inspiration pa.s.sage as it was in the "Monody on Chatterton." Not that he disregarded all Lamb's advice, as a comparison of the 1796 and 1797 editions of the _Poems_ will show.

The poem "Dear native brook" was the sonnet "To the River Otter."

Coleridge took Lamb's counsel. The poem containing the phrase "all effortless" was that "Addressed to a Young Man of Fortune" (Charles Lloyd). Coleridge did not include it. The poem on page 37 was "To a Young Lady with a Poem on the French Revolution." Nos. 48, 52 and 53 were the sonnets to Priestley, Kosciusko and Fayette. The last five lines of 50 were in the sonnet to Sheridan. The lines on page 129 were Sara's verses "The Silver Thimble." None of these were reprinted in 1797. The beautiful lines addressed from somebody at Bristol to somebody at London were those from Sara Coleridge to Lamb, referred to on page 33. Coleridge persisted in the use of the word "effusion".]

LETTER 16

CHARLES LAMB TO S. T. COLERIDGE

[Dated at end: Dec. 5, 1796.]

_To a young Lady going out to India_

Hard is the heart, that does not melt with Ruth When care sits cloudy on the brow of Youth, When bitter griefs the _female_ bosom swell And Beauty meditates a fond farewell To her loved native land, and early home, In search of peace thro' "stranger climes to roam."[*]

The Muse, with glance prophetic, sees her stand, Forsaken, silent Lady, on the strand Of farthest India, sickening at the war Of waves slow-beating, dull upon the sh.o.r.e Stretching, at gloomy intervals, her eye O'er the wide waters vainly to espy The long-expected bark, in which to find Some tidings of a world she has left behind.

In that sad hour shall start the gus.h.i.+ng tear For scenes her childhood loved, now doubly dear, In that sad hour shall frantic memory awake Pangs of remorse for slighted England's sake, And for the sake of many a tender tye Of Love or Friends.h.i.+p pa.s.s'd too lightly by.

Unwept, unpitied, midst an alien race, And the cold looks of many a stranger face, How will her poor heart bleed, and chide the day, That from her country took her far away.

[Footnote: Bowles. ["The African," line 27.]]

[_Lamb has struck his pen through the foregoing poem._]

Coleridge, the above has some few decent [lines in] it, and in the paucity of my portion of your volume may as well be inserted; I would also wish to retain the following if only to perpetuate the memory of so exquisite a pleasure as I have often received at the performance of the tragedy of Douglas, when Mrs. Siddons has been the Lady Randolph. Both pieces may be inserted between the sonnets and the sketches--in which latter, the last leaf but one of them, I beg you to alter the words "pain and want" to "pain and grief," this last being a more familiar and ear-satisfying combination. Do it I beg of you. To understand the following, if you are not acquainted with the play, you should know that on the death of Douglas his mother threw herself down a rock; and that at that time Scotland was busy in repelling the Danes.

THE TOMB OF DOUGLAS _See the Tragedy of that name_ When her son, her Douglas died, To the steep rock's fearful side Fast the frantic mother hied.

O'er her blooming warrior dead Many a tear did Scotland shed, And shrieks of long and loud lament From her Grampian hills she sent.

Like one awakening from a trance, She met the shock of Lochlin's lance. Denmark On her rude invader foe Return'd an hundred fold the blow.

Drove the taunting spoiler home: Mournful thence she took her way To do observance at the tomb, Where the son of Douglas [lay],

Round about the tomb did go In solemn state and order slow, Silent pace, and black attire, Earl, or Knight, or good Esquire, Who e'er by deeds of valour done In battle had high honors won; Whoe'er in their pure veins could trace The blood of Douglas' n.o.ble race.

With them the flower of minstrels came, And to their cunning harps did frame In doleful numbers piercing rhimes, Such strains as in the olden times Had soothed the spirit of Fingal Echoing thro' his fathers' Hall.

"Scottish maidens, drop a tear O'er the beauteous Hero's bier.

Brave youth and comely 'bove compare; All golden shone his burnish'd hair; Valor and smiling courtesy Played in the sunbeams of his eye.

Closed are those eyes that shone so fair And stain'd with blood his yellow hair.

Scottish maidens drop a tear O'er the beauteous Hero's bier."

"Not a tear, I charge you, shed For the false Glenalvon dead; Unpitied let Glenalvon lie, Foul stain to arms and chivalry."

"Behind his back the traitor came, And Douglas died without his fame."

[_Lamb has struck his pen through the lines against which I have put an asterisk_.]

*"Scottish maidens, drop a tear, *O'er the beauteous hero's bier."

*"Bending warrior, o'er thy grave, Young light of Scotland early spent!

Thy country thee shall long lament, *_Douglas 'Beautiful and Brave'!_ And oft to after times shall tell, _In Hopes sweet prime my Hero fell_."

[_Lamb has struck his pen through the remainder_.]

"Thane or Lordling, think no scorn Of the poor and lowly-born.

In brake obscure or lonely dell The simple flowret prospers well; The _gentler_ virtues cottage-bred, omitted Thrive best beneath the humble shed.

Low-born Hinds, opprest, obscure, Ye who patiently endure To bend the knee and bow the head, And thankful eat _another's bread_ Well may ye mourn your best friend dead, Till Life with Grief together end: He would have been the poor man's friend."

"Bending, warrior, o'er thy grave, Young light of Scotland early spent! omitted Thy country thee shall long lament, Douglas, '_Beautiful and Brave_'!

And oft to after times shall tell, omitted _In life's young prime my Hero fell_."

[Sidenote: Is "_morbid_ wantonness of woe" a good and allowable phrase?]

At length I have done with verse making. Not that I relish other people's poetry less,--theirs comes from 'em without effort, mine is the difficult operation of a brain scanty of ideas, made more difficult by disuse. I have been reading the "Task" with fresh delight. I am glad you love Cowper. I could forgive a man for not enjoying Milton, but I would not call that man my friend, who should be offended with the "divine chit-chat of Cowper." Write to me.--G.o.d love you and yours,

C. L.

[The name of the young lady going out to India is not known; the verses were printed in the _Monthly Magazine_ for March, 1797, but not in Coleridge's _Poems_, 1797. "The Tomb of Douglas" was included in that volume. The poem in which the alteration "pain and want" was to be made (but was not made, or was made and cancelled later) was "Fancy Employed on Divine Subjects."

The "divine chit-chat of Cowper" was Coleridge's own phrase. It is a pretty circ.u.mstance that Lamb and Cowper now share (with Keats) a memorial in Edmonton church.]

LETTER 17

CHARLES LAMB TO S. T. COLERIDGE

[Little Queen Street, Night of Dec. 9th,] 1796.

I am sorry I cannot now relish your poetical present as thoroughly as I feel it deserves; but I do not the less thank Lloyd and you for it.

In truth, Coleridge, I am perplexed, & at times almost cast down. I am beset with perplexities. The old hag of a wealthy relation, who took my aunt off our hands in the beginning of trouble, has found out that she is "indolent and mulish"--I quote her own words--and that her attachment to us is so strong that she can never be happy apart. The Lady, with delicate Irony, remarks that, if I am not an Hypocrite, I shall rejoyce to receive her again; and that it will be a means of making me more fond of home to have so dear a friend to come home to! The fact is, she is jealous of my aunt's bestowing any kind recollections on us, while she enjoys the patronage of her roof. She says she finds it inconsistent with her own "ease and tranquility" to keep her any longer, & in fine summons me to fetch her home. Now, much as I should rejoyce to transplant the poor old creature from the chilling air of such patronage, yet I know how straitend we are already, how unable already to answer any demand which sickness or any extraordinary expence may make. I know this, and all unused as I am to struggle with perplexities I am somewhat nonplusd, to say no worse. This prevents me from a thorough relish of what Lloyd's kindness and yours have furnished me with. I thank you tho from my heart, and feel myself not quite alone in the earth.

Before I offer, what alone I have to offer, a few obvious remarks on the poems you sent me, I can[not] but notice the odd coincidence of two young men, in one age, carolling their grandmothers. Love--what L[loyd]

calls "the feverish and romantic tye"--hath too long domineerd over all the charities of home: the dear domestic tyes of father, brother, husband. The amiable and benevolent Cowper has a beautiful pa.s.sage in his "Task,"--some natural and painful reflections on his deceased parents: and Hayley's sweet lines to his mother are notoriously the best things he ever wrote. Cowper's lines, some of them, are--

"How gladly would the man recall to life The boy's neglected sire; a mother, too.