Composed 1828.—Published 1835
[This occurred at Brugès in 1828. Mr. Coleridge, my daughter, and I made a tour together in Flanders, upon the Rhine, and returned by Holland. Dora and I, while taking a walk along a retired part of the town, heard the voice as here described, and were afterwards informed it was a convent in which were many English. We were both much touched, I might say affected, and Dora moved as appears in the verses.—I. F.]
One of the "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent."—Ed.
In Brugès town is many a street
Whence busy life hath fled;[557]
Where, without hurry, noiseless feet,
The grass-grown pavement tread.
There heard we, halting in the shade 5
Flung from a Convent-tower,
A harp that tuneful prelude made
To a voice of thrilling power.[558]
The measure, simple truth to tell,
Was fit for some gay throng; 10
Though from the same grim turret fell
The shadow and the song.
When silent were both voice and chords,
The strain seemed doubly dear,
Yet sad as sweet,—for English words 15
Had fallen upon the ear.[559]
It was a breezy hour of eve;
And[560] pinnacle and spire
Quivered and seemed almost to heave,
Clothed with innocuous fire; 20
But, where we stood, the setting sun
Showed little of his state;
And, if the glory reached the Nun,
'Twas through an iron grate.[561]
Not always is the heart unwise,[562] 25
Nor pity idly born,
If even[563] a passing Stranger sighs
For them who do not mourn.
Sad is thy doom, self-solaced dove,
Captive, whoe'er thou be![564] 30
Oh! what is beauty, what is love,
And opening life to thee?
Such feeling pressed upon my soul,
A feeling sanctified
By one soft trickling tear that stole 35
From the Maiden at my side;
Less tribute could she pay than this,
Borne gaily o'er the sea,
Fresh from the beauty and the bliss
Of English liberty? 40
In the final arrangement of the poems, this one was published amongst the Memorials of a Tour on the Continent (1820), where it followed the two sonnets on Brugès. The poems suggested by the shorter Tour of 1828 are here published together, in their chronological order.
In an undated letter of Dorothy Wordsworth's to Lady Beaumont, before copying out this poem and A Jewish Family, she says, "The two following poems were taken from incidents recorded in Dora's journal of her tour with her father and S. T. Coleridge. As I well recollect, she has related the incidents very pleasingly, and I hope you will agree with me in thinking that the poet has made good use of them."—Ed.