"A spirit, force, and grandeur, all their own!!"—Editor.[1140:2]
[SONNETS]
| Sonnet | |
| i. | To a Friend |
| 'Bereave me not of these delightful Dreams.'—W. L. Bowles.[1141:1] | |
| ii. | 'With many a weary step at length I gain.'—R. Southey. |
| iii. | To Scotland |
| 'Scotland! when thinking on each heathy hill.'—C. Lloyd. | |
| iv. | To Craig-Millar Castle in which Mary Queen of Scots was confined. |
| 'This hoary labyrinth, the wreck of Time.'—C. Lloyd. | |
| v. | To the River Otter |
| 'Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West.'—S. T. Coleridge. | |
| vi. | 'O Harmony! thou tenderest Nurse of Pain.'—W. L. Bowles. |
| vii. | To Evening |
| 'What numerous tribes beneath thy shadowy wing.'—Bamfield. | |
| viii. | On Bathing |
| 'When late the trees were stript by winter pale'.—T. Warton. | |
| ix. | 'When eddying Leaves begun in whirls to fly.'—Henry Brooks, (the Author of the Fool of Quality.) |
| x. | 'We were two pretty Babes, the younger she'.—Charles Lamb. |
| [Note]. Innocence which while we possess it is playful as a babe, becomes awful, when it departs from us. That is the sentiment of the line, a fine sentiment, and nobly expressed.—The Editor. | |
| xi. | 'I knew a gentle maid I ne'er shall view.'—W. Sotheby. |
| xii. | 'Was it some sweet device of faery land.'—Charles Lamb. |
| xiii. | 'When last I rov'd these winding wood-walks green.'—Charles Lamb. |
| xiv. | On a Discovery made too late. |
| 'Thou bleedest, my poor Heart! and thy distress.'—S. T. Coleridge. | |
| xv. | 'Hard by the road, where on that little mound.'—Robert Southey. |
| xvi. | The Negro Slave |
| 'Oh he is worn with toil! the big drops run.'—Robert Southey. | |
| xvii. | 'Sweet Mercy! how my very heart has bled.'—S. T. Coleridge. |
| xviii. | 'Could then the babes from yon unshelter'd cot.'—Thomas Russel. |
| xix. | 'Mild arch of promise on the evening sky.'—Robert Southey. |
| xx. | 'Oh! She was almost speechless nor could hold.'—Charles Lloyd. |
| xxi. | 'When from my dreary Home I first mov'd on'—Charles Lloyd. |
| xxii. | 'In this tumultuous sphere for thee unfit.'—Charlotte Smith. |
| xxiii. | 'I love the mournful sober-suited Night.'—Charlotte Smith. |
| xxiv. | 'Lonely I sit upon the silent shore.'—Thomas Dermody. |
| xxv. | 'Oh! I could laugh to hear the midnight wind.'—Charles Lamb. |
| xxvi. | 'Thou whose stern spirit loves the awful storm.'—W. L. Bowles. |
| xxvii. | 'Ingratitude, how deadly is thy smart.'—Anna Seward. |
| xxviii. | To the Author of the "Robbers" |
| 'That fearful voice, a famish'd Father's cry.'—S. T. Coleridge. | |
| [At the foot of l. 14. S. T. C. writes— | |
| 'I affirm, John Thelwall! that the six last lines of this Sonnet to Schiller are strong and fiery; and you are the only one who thinks otherwise.—There's! a spurt of Author-like Vanity for you!'] |
IV
Ode / on the / Departing Year. / By S. T. Coleridge. / Ιου, ιου, ω ω κακα, Υπ' αυ με δεινος ορθομαντειας πονος / Στροβει, ταρασσων φροιμιοις εφημιοις, / . . . . . . / το μελλον ηξει· και συ μην ταχει παρων / Αγαν γ' αληθομαντιν μ' ερεις. / ÆSCHYL. AGAMEM. 1225. / Bristol; Printed by N. Biggs, / and sold by J. Parsons, Paternoster Row, London. / 1796. /
[4o.
Collation.—Title, one leaf, p. [1]; Dedication, To Thomas Poole of Stowey, pp. [3]-4; Text, pp. [5]-15; Lines Addressed to a Young Man of Fortune who abandoned himself to an indolent and causeless Melancholy (signed) S. T. Coleridge, p. 16. [Signatures—B (p. 5)—D (p. 13).]