mourn in plaintive tone
The lovely starling dead and gone!
The lovely starling dead and gone!
Coleridge - Poems
" replied my gentle fair,
"Beloved, what are names but air?
Choose thou whatever suits the line;
Call me Sappho, call me Chloris,
Call me Lalage or Doris,
Only, only call me Thine. "
_Morning Post_, August 27,1799.
TO LESBIA
Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus. --CATULLUS.
My Lesbia, let us love and live,
And to the winds, my Lesbia, give
Each cold restraint, each boding fear
Of age and all her saws severe.
Yon sun now posting to the main
Will set,--but 'tis to rise again;--
But we, when once our mortal light
Is set, must sleep in endless night.
Then come, with whom alone I'll live,
A thousand kisses take and give!
Another thousand! --to the store
Add hundreds--then a thousand more!
And when they to a million mount,
Let confusion take the account,--
That you, the number never knowing,
May continue still bestowing--
That I for joys may never pine,
Which never can again be mine!
_Morning Post_, April 11, 1798.
THE DEATH OF THE STARLING
Lugete, O Veneres, Cupidinesque. --CATULLUS.
Pity!
mourn in plaintive tone
The lovely starling dead and gone!
Pity mourns in plaintive tone
The lovely starling dead and gone.
Weep, ye Loves! and Venus! weep
The lovely starling fall'n asleep!
Venus sees with tearful eyes--
In her lap the starling lies!
While the Loves all in a ring
Softly stroke the stiffen'd wing.
? 1794.
ON A CATARACT
FROM A CAVERN NEAR THE SUMMIT OF A MOUNTAIN PRECIPICE
[AFTER STOLBERG'S _UNSTERBLICHER JUNGLING_]
STROPHE
Unperishing youth!
Thou leapest from forth
The cell of thy hidden nativity;
Never mortal saw
The cradle of the strong one;
Never mortal heard
The gathering of his voices;
The deep-murmur'd charm of the son of the rock,
That is lisp'd evermore at his slumberless fountain.
There's a cloud at the portal, a spray-woven veil
At the shrine of his ceaseless renewing;
It embosoms the roses of dawn,
It entangles the shafts of the noon,
And into the bed of its stillness
The moonshine sinks down as in slumber,
That the son of the rock, that the nursling of heaven
May be born in a holy twilight!
ANTISTROPHE
The wild goat in awe
Looks up and beholds
Above thee the cliff inaccessible;--
Thou at once full-born
Madd'nest in thy joyance,
Whirlest, shatter'st, splitt'st,
Life invulnerable.
? 1799.
HYMN TO THE EARTH
[IMITATED FROM STOLBERG'S _HYMNE AN DIE EKDE_]
HEXAMETERS
Earth!
"Beloved, what are names but air?
Choose thou whatever suits the line;
Call me Sappho, call me Chloris,
Call me Lalage or Doris,
Only, only call me Thine. "
_Morning Post_, August 27,1799.
TO LESBIA
Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus. --CATULLUS.
My Lesbia, let us love and live,
And to the winds, my Lesbia, give
Each cold restraint, each boding fear
Of age and all her saws severe.
Yon sun now posting to the main
Will set,--but 'tis to rise again;--
But we, when once our mortal light
Is set, must sleep in endless night.
Then come, with whom alone I'll live,
A thousand kisses take and give!
Another thousand! --to the store
Add hundreds--then a thousand more!
And when they to a million mount,
Let confusion take the account,--
That you, the number never knowing,
May continue still bestowing--
That I for joys may never pine,
Which never can again be mine!
_Morning Post_, April 11, 1798.
THE DEATH OF THE STARLING
Lugete, O Veneres, Cupidinesque. --CATULLUS.
Pity!
mourn in plaintive tone
The lovely starling dead and gone!
Pity mourns in plaintive tone
The lovely starling dead and gone.
Weep, ye Loves! and Venus! weep
The lovely starling fall'n asleep!
Venus sees with tearful eyes--
In her lap the starling lies!
While the Loves all in a ring
Softly stroke the stiffen'd wing.
? 1794.
ON A CATARACT
FROM A CAVERN NEAR THE SUMMIT OF A MOUNTAIN PRECIPICE
[AFTER STOLBERG'S _UNSTERBLICHER JUNGLING_]
STROPHE
Unperishing youth!
Thou leapest from forth
The cell of thy hidden nativity;
Never mortal saw
The cradle of the strong one;
Never mortal heard
The gathering of his voices;
The deep-murmur'd charm of the son of the rock,
That is lisp'd evermore at his slumberless fountain.
There's a cloud at the portal, a spray-woven veil
At the shrine of his ceaseless renewing;
It embosoms the roses of dawn,
It entangles the shafts of the noon,
And into the bed of its stillness
The moonshine sinks down as in slumber,
That the son of the rock, that the nursling of heaven
May be born in a holy twilight!
ANTISTROPHE
The wild goat in awe
Looks up and beholds
Above thee the cliff inaccessible;--
Thou at once full-born
Madd'nest in thy joyance,
Whirlest, shatter'st, splitt'st,
Life invulnerable.
? 1799.
HYMN TO THE EARTH
[IMITATED FROM STOLBERG'S _HYMNE AN DIE EKDE_]
HEXAMETERS
Earth!
