O, had His powerful destiny ordain'd Me some inferior angel, I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised Ambition! Yet why not? some other
power As great might have aspired, and me, though mean, Drawn to his part; but other powers as great Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand? Thou hadst whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all? Be then His love accurs'd, since, love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
Nay, cursed be thou; since against His thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven. O, then, at last relent: is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue The Omnipotent. Ay me! they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vain, Under what torments inwardly I groan, While they adore me on the throne of Hell. With diadem and sceptre high advanced, The lower still I fall, only supreme In misery: such joy ambition finds. But say I could repent, and could obtain, By act of grace, my former state; how soon
Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay
What feign'd submission swore? Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep; Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my Punisher; therefore as far From granting He, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold, instead Of us outcast, exiled, His new delight, Mankind, created, and for him this world. So farewell hope; and with hope, farewell fear; Farewell remorse! all good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my good; by thee at least Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold, By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign; As man ere long, and this new world, shall know.
[SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, born 21st October, 1772, was not one of the greatest English poets, simply because of his fatal habit of procrastination. He was one of the most acute thinkers of his day, gifted with a splendid imagination, and great power of expression, but unfortunately for the world he never set himself to earnest work. He died 25th July, 1834.]
ALAS! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain. And thus it chanced, as I divine, With Roland and Sir Leoline.
Each spake words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother: They parted-ne'er to meet again! But never either found another
To free the hollow heart from paining— They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between ;— But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The marks of that which once hath been !
[The Rev. JAMES MERRICK, born 8th June, 1720, published Poems," 1763, "The Psalms in Verse," 1765. Died 5th January, 1769.]
OFT has it been my lot to mark A proud, conceited, talking spark, With eyes that hardly served at most To guard their master 'gainst a post, Yet round the world the blade has been To see whatever could be seen, Returning from his finish'd tour, Grown ten times perter than before; Whatever word you chance to drop, The travell'd fool your mouth will stop, "Sir, if my judgment you'll allow— I've seen-and sure I ought to know So begs you'd pay a due submission, And acquiesce in his decision.
Two travellers of such a cast, As o'er Arabia's wilds they past, And on their way in friendly chat Now talk'd of this and then of that,
Discoursed a while, 'mongst other matter, Of the Chameleon's form and nature.
A stranger animal," cries one,
"Sure never lived beneath the sun : A lizard's body lean and long, A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, Its foot with triple claw disjoin'd; And what a length of tail behind ! How slow its pace! and then its hue- Whoever saw so fine a blue?"
"Hold there!" the other quick replies, ""Tis green-I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay, And warm'd it in the sunny ray; Stretch'd at its ease the beast I view'd, And saw it eat the air for food." "I've seen it, sir, as well as you, And must again affirm it blue. At leisure I the beast survey'd, Extended in the cooling shade."
"'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye ""Green!" cries the other in a fury—
Why, sir-d'ye think I've lost my eyes?" ""Twere no great loss," the friend replies;
For, if they always serve you thus,
You'll find 'em but of little use."
So high at last the contest rose, From words they almost came to blows: When luckily came by a thirdTo him the question they referr'd ; And begg'd he'd tell 'em, if he knew, Whether the thing was green or blue. "Sirs," cries the umpire, "cease your pother, The creature's neither one nor t' other, I caught the animal last night, And view'd it o'er by candlelight : I mark'd it well-'twas black as jetYou stare-but, sirs, I've got it yet,
And can produce it."—"Pray, sir, do : I'll lay my life the thing is blue."
"And I'll be sworn, that when you 've seen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." "Well then, at once to end the doubt," Replies the man, "I'll turn him out: And when before your eyes I've set him,
If you don't find him black, I'll eat him.” He said; then full before their sight
Produced the beast, and lo !—'twas white.
SCENE AFTER THE SIEGE OF CORINTH.
ALP wander'd on, along the beach,
Till within the range of a carbine's reach
Of the leaguer'd wall; but they saw him not, Or how could he 'scape from the hostile shot?
Did traitors lurk in the Christian's hold?
Were their hands grown stiff, or their hearts wax'd
I know not, in sooth; but from yonder wall There flash'd no fire, and there hissed no ball, Though he stood beneath the bastion's frown, That flank'd the sea-ward gate of the town; Though he heard the sound, and could almost tell The sullen words of the sentinel,
As his measured step on the stone below Clank'd, as he paced it to and fro;
And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall Hold o'er the dead their carnival,
Gorging and growling o'er carcass and limb; They were too busy to bark at him!
From a Tartar's skull they had stripped the flesh,
As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh ;
And their white tusks crunch'd o'er the whiter skull,
« EdellinenJatka » |