Church, which has kindled and displayed more bright self eminently tolerant, and far more so, both in Spirit and burning lights of Genius and Learning. than all land in fact, than many of her most bitter opponents, other protestant churches since the Reformation, was who profess to deem toleration itself an insult on the (with the single exception of the times of Laud and rights of mankind! As to myself, who not only know Sheldon) least intolerant, when all Christians unhappily the Church-Establishment to be tolerant, but who see deemed a species of intolerance their religious duty; in it the greatest, if not the sole safe bulwark of Tolerathat Bishops of our church were among the first that 'tion. I feel no necessity of defending or palliating opcontended against this error; and finally, that since the pressons under the two Charleses, in order to exclaim reformation, when tolerance became a fashion, the , with a full and fervent heart, Esro Psapetua Church of England, in a tolerating age, has shown her The wedding-ouest sat on a stone, - - - He rannot chuse but hear; The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd, Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken— living thing was And to repay the other! Why rejoices THE VISIT OF THE GODS. iMilitated ritomi schillen. NEven, believe me, Scarce had I welcomed the Sorrow-beguiler, With Divinities fills my Terrestrial Hall! How shall I yield you Due entertainment, Celestial Quire? Me rather, bright guests! with your wings of upbuoyance Bear aloft to your homes, to your banquets of joyance, That the roofs of Olympus may echo my lyre! Ha! we mount! on their pinions they waft up my Soul! O give me the Nectar! O fill me the Bowl Give him the Nectar! Pour out for the Poet, Hebe! pour free Quicken his eyes with celestial dew, That Styx the detested no more he may view, And like one of us Gods may conceit him to be! Thanks, Hebe! I quaff it! Io Paan, I cry! The Wine of the Immortals Forbids me to die! ELEGY, IMitated FroM one of AKENside's BLANK VERSE inscriptions. Near the lone pile with ivy overspread, Where sleeps the moonlight- on yon verdant bed— For there does Edmund rest, the learned swain! Young Edmund ! famed for each harmonious strain, Like some tall tree that spreads its branches wide, And loads the west-wind with its soft perfume, IIis manhood blossom'd : till the faithless pride Of fair Matilda sank him to the tomb. But soon did righteous Heaven her guilt pursue! Still Edmund's image rose to blast her view, With keen regret, and conscious guilt's alarms, Amid the pomp of affluence she pined; Nor all that lured her faith from Edmund's arms Could lull the wakeful horror of her mind. Go, Traveller! tell the tale with sorrow fraught: May hold it in remembrance; and be taught KUBLA KHAN ; on, A vision IN A DREAM. [The following fragment is here published at the request of a poet of great and deserved celebrity, and, as far as the Author's own opinions are concerned, rather as a psychological curiosity, than on the ground of any supposed poetic merits. in the summer of the year 1797, the Author, then in ill bealth. had retired to a lonely farm-house between Porlock and Linton, on the Exmoor confines of Somerset and Devonshire. In consequence of a slight indisposition, an anodyne had been prescribed, from the effects of which he fell asleep in his chair at the moment that he was reading the following sentence, or words of the same substance, in Purchas's - Pilgrimage:--- Here the Khan Kubla commanded a palace to be built, and a stately garden thereunto ; and thus ten miles of fertile ground were inclosed with a wall." The author continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines; if that indeed can be called composition in which all the images rose up before him as things, with a parallel production of the correspondent expressions, without any sensation, or consciousness of effort. On awaking he appeared to himself to have a dis– tinct recollection of the whole, and taking his pen, ink, and paper, instantly and eagerly wrote down the lines that are here preserved. At this moment he was unfortunately called out by a person on business from Porlock, and detained by him al-ove an bour, and on his return to his rootn, found. to his no small surprise and mortification, that though he still retained some vague and dim recollection of the general purport of the vision, y, t, with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone had been cast, but, alas! without the after restoration of the latter: Then all the charin Is broken—all that phantom-world so fair Wanishes, and a thousand circlets spread, And each mis-shape the other. Stay awhile, Poor youth who scarcely darest lift up thine eyesThe stream will soon renew its smoothness, soon The visions will return And Io, he stays, And soon the fragments dim of lovely forms Come trembling back, nnite, and now once more The pool becomes a mirror. Yet from the still surviving recollections in his mind, the Author has frequently purposed to finish for himself what had been originally, as it were, given to him. Xzusgow zdrow zao: bat the to-morrow is yet to come. As a contrast to this vision, I have annexed a fragment of a very different character, describing with equal fidelity the dream of pain and disease. —Note to the first Edition, 1816.) In Xanadu did Kubla Khan So twice five miles of fertile ground But oh that deep romantic chasm which slanted The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw : It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she play'd, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 't would win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed And drank the milk of Paradise. The PAiNS OF SLEEP. Ene on my bed my limbs I lay, Since in me, round me, every where Eternal Strength and Wisdom are. But yester-night I pray'd aloud In anguish and in agony, Up-starting from the fiendish crowd Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me: A lurid light, a trampling throng, Sense of intolerable wrong, And whom I scorn'd, those only strong! Thirst of revenge, the powerless will Still baffled, and yet burning still! Desire with loathing strangely mix’d, On wild or hateful objects fixd. Fantastic passions! maddening brawl.' And shame and terror over all! Deeds to be hid which were not hid, Which all confused I could not know, Whether I suffer'd, or I did : For all seem'd guilt, remorse, or woe, My own or others, still the same Life-stifling fear, soul-stilling shame. So two nights pass'd : the night's dismay APPENDIX. APOLOGETIC PREFACE to “ FIRE, FAMINE, AND slaughTER." (See page 26). At the house of a gentleman, who by the principles and corresponding virtues of a sincere Christian consecrates a cultivated genius and the favourable accidents of birth, opulence, and splendid connexions, it was my good fortune to meet, in a dinner-party, with more men of celebrity in science or polite literature, than are commonly found collected round the same table. In the course of conversation, one of the party reminded an illustrious Poet, then present, of some verses which he had recited that morning, and which had appeared in a newspaper under the name of a War-Eclogue, in which Fire, Famine, and Slaughter, were introduced as the speakers. The gentleman so addressed replied, that he was rather aurorsod has one of as would have noticed or heard strengthens it. But the more intense and insane the | times two common sailors, each speaking of some one who had wronged or offended him : that the first with apparent violence had devoted every part of his adversary's body and soul to all the horrid phantoms and fantastic Places that ever Quevedo dreamt of, and this in a rapid flow of those outre and wildly-combined execrations, which too often with our lower classes serve for escape-valves to carry off the excess of their passions, as so much superiluous steam that would endanger the vessel if it were retained. The other, on the contrary, with that sort of calmness of tone which is to the ear what the paleness of anger is to the eye, shall simply sav, . If I chance to be made boatswain, as I hope I soon shall, and can but once get that fellow under my hand (and I shall be upon the watch for him, I'll tickle his pretty skin' I wont hurt him ' oh no! I'll only cut the ——— to the liver'. I dare appeal to all present, which of the two they would regard as the least deceptive symptom of deliberate malignity; nay, whether it would surprise them to see the first fellow, an hour or two afterward, cordially shaking hands with the very man, the fractional parts of whose body and soul he had been |so charitably disposing of; or even perhaps riskins: his life for him. What language Shakspeare considered characteristic of malignant disposition, we see in the speech of the good-natured Gratiano, who spoke - an infinite deal of nothing more than any man in all Venice; | |