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Queen of the West! upon thy rocky throne, In solitary grandeur sternly placed; In awful majesty thou sitt'st alone, By Nature's master-hand supremely graced. The world has not thy counterpart thy dower, Eternal beauty, strength, and matchless power.
The two poems as printed in Mr. Coleridge's edition of 1835, here follow, which by being compared with the same poems, in their preceding original form, will exhibit a study, particularly to the Poet. With Mr. Coleridge's last corrections. Maiden, that with sullen brow Sitt'st behind those virgins gay, Like a scorched and mildew'd bough, Leafless mid the blooms of May.
If life had been worth what fools trouble it with business and ambition I suppose I should have been a great man with a very bad liver ha ha! I alone, of all the world, ever found out what the world was good for! Draw the curtains, Dykeman." "Org. Welcome, thou ice that sitt'st about his heart No heat can ever thaw thee!" FORD: Broken Heart. "Nearch. Honourable infamy!" Ibid. "Amye.
These are thy glorious works, Parent of Good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; Thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above the heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works: yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought and power divine. He stooped down and picked a few bunches of the arbutus, and put them in his bosom.
Maiden! that with sullen brow, Sitt'st behind those virgins gay; Like a scorched, and mildew'd bough, Leafless mid the blooms of May. Inly gnawing, thy distresses Mock those starts of wanton glee; And thy inmost soul confesses Chaste Affection's majesty. Loathing thy polluted lot, Hie thee, Maiden! hie thee hence! Seek thy weeping mother's cot, With a wiser innocence!
"Why sitt'st thou by that ruin'd hall, Thou aged carle so stern and grey? Dost thou its former pride recall, Or ponder how it passed away? "Know'st thou not me!" the Deep Voice cried, "So long enjoyed, so oft misused Alternate, in thy fickle pride, Desired, neglected, and accused?
"Why sitt'st thou by that ruin'd hall, Thou aged carle so stern and grey? Dost thou its former pride recall, Or ponder how it passed away? "Know'st thou not me!" the Deep Voice cried, "So long enjoyed, so oft misused Alternate, in thy fickle pride, Desired, neglected, and accused?
If life had been worth what fools trouble it with business and ambition I suppose I should have been a great man with a very bad liver ha ha! I alone, of all the world, ever found out what the world was good for! Draw the curtains, Dykeman." "Org. Welcome, thou ice that sitt'st about his heart No heat can ever thaw thee!" FORD: Broken Heart. "Nearch. Honourable infamy!" Ibid. "Amye.
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