Poets From England

"Then watchers of the life of man will know How spirits quickened in this ended reign, Till what was centuries stagnant 'gan to flow And what was centuries fettered moved again; How with this Ruler entered into rest The country's very self from slumber stirred, To charity as guide and hope as guest And ventured to a nobler marching word."

"Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French, And some’ll swallow tay and stuff fit only for a wench; But I’m for right Jamaica till I roll beneath the bench, Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan."

"In the dark womb where I began My mother's life made me a man. Through all the months of human birth Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir, But through the death of some of her."

"What have I done, or tried, or said In thanks to that dear woman dead? Men triumph over women still, Men trample women's rights at will, And man's lust roves the world untamed. * * * * O grave, keep shut lest I be shamed."

"The moon came white and ghostly as we laid the treasure down, There was gear there’d make a beggarman as rich as Lima Town, Copper charms and silver trinkets from the chests of Spanish crews, Gold doubloons and double moidores, louis d’ors and portagues"

"From '41 to '51 I was my folk's contrary son; I bit my father's hand right through And broke my mother's heart in two."

"Will you not come home, brother? you have been long away, It's April, and blossom time, and white is the spray; And bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain, - Will you not come home, brother, home to us again?"

"I have seen flowers come in stony places And kind things done by men with ugly faces, And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races, So I trust, too."

"I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking."

"And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon Of the steady Trade Winds blowing."

"Ye vales and hills, whose beauty hither drew The poet's steps, and fixed him here, on you His eyes have closed; and ye, loved books, no more Shall Southey feed upon your precious lore, To works that ne'er shall forfeit their renown, Adding immortal labors of his own; Whether he traced historic truth with zeal For the state's guidance, or the church's weal; Or Fancy, disciplined by studious Art, Informed his pen, or Wisdom of the heart Or Judgments sanctioned in the patriot's mind By reverence for the rights of all mankind. Large were his aims, yet in no human breast Could private feelings find a holier nest. His joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud From Skiddaw's top, but he to heaven was vowed Through a life long and pure, and steadfast faith Calmed in his soul the fear of change and death."

"It was only one of a formidable list of reforms demanded by Southey, a catalogue of which is given by his son. It includes national education, the diffusion of cheap and good literature, an organized system of colonization, with especial attention to the provision of female immigrants, a “wholesome training for the children of poverty”, the establishment of Protestant sisters of charity and of a better class of hospital nurses, setting up of savings banks, abolition of flogging in the Services except in extreme cases, reform of the game laws, reduction in the number of capital crimes, execution of criminals within prison walls, reform of the factory system, establishment of national works in time of distress, allotments for labourers, employment of paupers in cultivating waste lands, commutation of tithes, an increase in the number of clergy, more colleges, and a more adequate judicial system. To these might be added various reforms for which he pleaded in the name of humanity, such as the abolition of bull-baiting and cock-fighting, improvements in prison conditions, more reputable ale-houses, and finally the cause of the little chimney-sweeps. He gives a prominent place to law reform, allows that over-severe laws defeat their own ends; that the game laws are iniquitous, and that entail should be limited."

"Not the last struggles of the Sun, Precipitated from his golden throne, Hold darkling mortals in sublime suspense; But the calm exod of a man Nearer, tho’ far above, who ran The race we run, when Heaven recalls him hence."

"Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine."

"A considerable stir was being made (1795) by two youthful advocates of revolution, who were trying to rouse the people of Bristol. These two young men who protested boldly against the war, the ministry and the established church and social order were Robert Southey and Samuel Taylor Colerige."

"Wild dreams! but such As Plato lov'd; such as with holy zeal Our Milton worshipp'd. Blessed hopes! awhile From man with-held, even to the latter days When Christ shall come, and all things be fulfill'd."

"Already in 1829 the poet laureate, Southey, was preaching the tenets of philanthropic collectivism, and his Colloquies showed an antipathy to laissez-faire which was to influence Lord Shaftesbury. The literary tradition of Southey was continued in the novels of Kingsley and Mrs. Gaskell, of Dickens and Charles Reade; and it appears, if in new forms, in the philippics of Carlyle and the delicate satire of Arnold."

"Bob Southey! You're a poet—Poet-laureate, And representative of all the race; Although 'tis true that you turn'd out a Tory at Last—yours has lately been a common case; And now, my Epic Renegade! what are ye at? With all the Lakers, in and out of place? A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye Like "four and twenty Blackbirds in a pye;"Which pye being open'd they began to sing" (This old song and new simile holds good), "A dainty dish to set before the king," Or Regent, who admires such kind of food; And Coleridge, too, has lately taken wing, But like a hawk encumber'd with his hood, Explaining Metaphysics to the nation— I wish he would explain his Explanation.*You, Bob! are rather insolent, you know, At being disappointed in your wish To supersede all warblers here below, And be the only Blackbird in the dish; And then you overstrain yourself, or so, And tumble downward like the flying fish Gasping on deck, because you soar too high, Bob, And fall, for lack of moisture quite a-dry, Bob!"

"Somebody has been sitting in my chair!"

"Out beyond the sunset, could I but find the way, Is a sleepy blue laguna which widens to a bay, And there's the Blessed City -- so the sailors say -- The Golden City of St. Mary."

"Write poetry for its own sake — not in a spirit of emulation, and not with a view to celebrity; the less you aim at that the more likely you will be to deserve and finally to obtain it."

"And then she went to the porridge of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right."

"Of all the Tory reformers in the early years of the nineteenth century none was so fecund of schemes, and often sound schemes, for improving the lot of the people as Robert Southey. He often seems to us cold and unattractive, but for his life of hard work, his unflinching honour, and his practical pity for the unfortunate he deserves a sympathetic understanding which is more often given to frailer brethren of the pen."

"It runs through the reeds, And away it proceeds, Through meadow and glade, In sun and in shade, And through the wood-shelter, Among crags in its flurry, Helter-skelter, Hurry-skurry."

"Rising and leaping, Sinking and creeping, Swelling and sweeping, Showering and springing, Flying and flinging, Writhing and ringing, Eddying and whisking, Spouting and frisking, Turning and twisting, Around and around With endless rebound: Smiting and fighting, A sight to delight in; Confounding, astounding, Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound."

"And so never ending, but always descending, Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar, — And this way the water comes down at Lodore."

"From its fountains In the mountains, Its rills and its gills; Through moss and through brake, It runs and it creeps For a while, till it sleeps In its own little lake."

"The march of intellect."

"How does the water Come down at Lodore?"

"No sooner was the Baltic open to our merchants, than corn was bought up there for importation into England; at the same time the continent was glutted with English goods, which, because the supply greatly exceeded the demand, were sold at less than their prime cost, and upon which the foreign governments soon laid new duties...to prevent the ruin of their own manufactures. This might have been a salutary lesson, if nations were ever rendered wise by experience; it might have taught us that, however willing one part of this nation might be to see the other ruined by the free admission of foreign grain, foreign governments would never consent to have their fabrics destroyed by the unrestricted introduction of British goods. It is a sound maxim in politics, whatever it may be in morals, that charity begins at home."

"So I told them in rhyme, For of rhymes I had store."

"Agreed to differ."

"The Satanic school."

"How little do they see what is, who frame Their hasty judgement upon that which seems!"

"Literature cannot be the business of a woman's life, and it ought not to be."

"The arts babblative and scribblative."

"It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the west wind, and daffodils."

"Where Washington hath left His awful memory A light for after times!"

"The laws are with us, and God on our side."

"My days among the Dead are past; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old; My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day."

"And last of all an Admiral came, A terrible man with a terrible name,— A name which you all know by sight very well, But which no one can speak, and no one can spell."

"Every body is a critic."

"Will ye believe The wonders of the ocean? how its shoals Sprang from the wave, like flashing light; .. took wing, And, twinkling with a silver glitterance, Flew through the air and sunshine? yet were they To sight less wondrous than the tribe who swam, Following like fowlers, with uplifted eye, Their falling quarry: .. language cannot paint Their splendid tints! though in blue ocean seen, Blue, darkly, deeply, beautifully blue, In all its rich variety of shades, Suffus'd with glowing gold."

"Yet leaving here a name, I trust, That will not perish in the dust."

"What will not woman, gentle woman dare, When strong affection stirs her spirit up?"

"Great news! bloody news!" cried a newsman; The Devil said, "Stop, let me see!" "Great news? bloody news?" thought the Devil; "The bloodier the better for me."

"How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures; nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven: In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths; Beneath her steady ray The desert circle spreads Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. How beautiful is night!"

"And then they knew the perilous Rock, And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

"At this good news, so great The Devil's pleasure grew, That, with a joyful swish, he rent The hole where his tail came through."

"Curses are like young chickens, they always come home to roost."