The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Chapter 370 : 512-20, and in _Lyrical Ballads_ . . . 1798, edited by Thomas Hutchinson, 1898. The te

512-20, and in _Lyrical Ballads_ . . . 1798, edited by Thomas Hutchinson, 1898. The text of the present issue has been collated with that of an early copy of _Lyrical Ballads_, 1798 (containing _Lewti_, pp. 63-7), presented by Coleridge to his sister-in-law, Miss Martha Fricker. The lines were not numbered in _L. B._, 1798.

LINENOTES:

[63] And an] As if MS. corr. by S. T. C.

[75] Corrected in the Errata to fog-smoke white.

[83] [*weft*] [S. T. C.]

[179] For "those" read "these" Errata, p. [221], L. B. 1798.

[After 338] * * * * * * MS., L. B. 1798.

F

THE RAVEN

[As printed in the _Morning Post_, March 10, 1798.]

[Vide _ante_, p. 169.]

Under the arms of a goodly oak-tree, There was of Swine a large company.

They were making a rude repast, Grunting as they crunch'd the mast.

Then they trotted away: for the wind blew high-- 5 One acorn they left, ne more mote you spy.

Next came a Raven, who lik'd not such folly; He belong'd, I believe, to the witch MELANCHOLY!

Blacker was he than the blackest jet; Flew low in the rain; his feathers were wet. 10 He pick'd up the acorn and buried it strait, By the side of a river both deep and great.

Where then did the Raven go?

He went high and low-- O'er hill, o'er dale did the black Raven go! 15 Many Autumns, many Springs; Travell'd he with wand'ring wings; Many Summers, many Winters-- I can't tell half his adventures.

At length he return'd, and with him a she; 20 And the acorn was grown a large oak-tree.

They built them a nest in the topmost bough, And young ones they had, and were jolly enow.

But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise: His brow like a pent-house hung over his eyes. 25 He'd an axe in his hand, and he nothing spoke, But with many a hem! and a st.u.r.dy stroke, At last he brought down the poor Raven's own oak.

His young ones were kill'd, for they could not depart, And his wife she did die of a broken heart! 30 The branches from off it the Woodman did sever!

And they floated it down on the course of the River: They saw'd it to planks, and it's rind they did strip, And with this tree and others they built up a s.h.i.+p.

The s.h.i.+p, it was launch'd; but in sight of the land, 35 A tempest arose which no s.h.i.+p could withstand.

It bulg'd on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast-- The auld Raven flew round and round, and caw'd to the blast.

He heard the sea-shriek of their peris.h.i.+ng souls-- They be sunk! O'er the top-mast the mad water rolls. 40 The Raven was glad that such fate they did meet, They had taken his all, and REVENGE WAS SWEET!

G

LEWTI; OR THE CIRCa.s.sIAN'S LOVE-CHANT[1049:1]

[Vide _ante_, p. 253.]

(1)

[Add. MSS. 27,902.]

High o'er the silver rocks I roved To forget the form I loved In hopes fond fancy would be kind And steal my Mary from my mind T'was twilight and the lunar beam 5 Sailed slowly o'er Tamaha's stream As down its sides the water strayed Bright on a rock the moonbeam playe[d]

It shone, half-sheltered from the view By pendent boughs of tressy yew 10 True, true to love but false to rest, So fancy whispered to my breast, So s.h.i.+nes her forehead smooth and fair Gleaming through her sable hair I turned to heaven--but viewed on high 15 The languid l.u.s.tre of her eye The moons mild radiant edge I saw Peeping a black-arched cloud below Nor yet its faint and paly beam Could tinge its skirt with yellow gleam 20 I saw the white waves o'er and o'er Break against a curved sh.o.r.e Now disappearing from the sight Now twinkling regular and white Her mouth, her smiling mouth can shew 25 As white and regular a row Haste Haste, some G.o.d indulgent prove And bear me, bear me to my love Then might--for yet the sultry hour Glows from the sun's oppressive power 30 Then might her bosom soft and white Heave upon my swimming sight As yon two swans together heave Upon the gently-swelling wave Haste--haste some G.o.d indulgent prove 35 And bear--oh bear me to my love.

(2)

[Add. MSS. 35,343.]

THE CIRCa.s.sIAN'S LOVE-CHAUNT [*Wild Indians*]

High o'er the rocks at night I rov'd [*silver*]

To forget the form I lov'd.

Image of LEWTI! from my mind [*Cora*]

Depart! for LEWTI is not kind!

[*Cora*]

Bright was the Moon: the Moon's bright beam 5 Speckled with many a moving shade, Danc'd upon Tamaha's stream; But brightlier on the Rock it play'd, The Rock, half-shelter'd from my view By pendent boughs of tressy Yew! 10 True to Love, but false to Rest, My fancy whisper'd in my breast-- So s.h.i.+nes my Lewti's forehead fair Gleaming thro' her sable hair, Image of LEWTI! from my mind 15 [*Cora*]

Depart! for LEWTI is not kind.

[*Cora*]

I saw a cloud of whitest hue; Onward to the Moon it pa.s.s'd!

Still brighter and more bright it grew With floating colours not a few, 20 Till it reach'd the Moon at last.

LEWTI; OR THE CIRCa.s.sIAN'S LOVE-CHANT

(3)

[Add. MSS. 35,343, f. 3 recto.]

High o'er the rocks at night I rov'd To forget the form I lov'd.

Image of LEWTI! from my mind Depart: for LEWTI is not kind. 25

Bright was the Moon: the Moon's bright bea[m]

Speckled with many a moving shade, Danc'd upon TAMAHA'S stream; But brightlier on the Rock it play'd, The Rock, half-shelter'd from my view 30 By pendent boughs of tressy Yew!

True to Love, but false to Rest, My fancy whisper'd in my breast-- So s.h.i.+nes my LEWTI'S forehead fair Gleaming thro' her sable hair! 35 Image of LEWTI! from my mind Depart--for LEWTI is not kind.

I saw a Cloud of whitest hue-- Onward to the Moon it pa.s.s'd.

Still brighter and more bright it grew 40 With floating colours not a few, Till it reach'd the Moon at last: Then the Cloud was wholly bright With a rich and amber light!

[*deep*]

And so with many a hope I seek, 45 And so with joy I find my LEWTI: And even so my pale wan cheek Drinks in as deep a flush of Beauty Image of LEWTI! leave my mind If Lewti never will be kind! 50

Away the little Cloud, away.

Away it goes--away so soon [*alone*]

Alas! it has no power to stay: It's hues are dim, it's hues are grey Away it pa.s.ses from the Moon. 55 And now tis whiter than before-- As white as my poor cheek will be, When, LEWTI! on my couch I lie A dying Man for Love of thee!

[*Thou living Image*]