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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=512793" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Monody On The Death Of Chatterton</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When faint and sad o'er sorrow's desert wild<br>Slow journeys onward poor misfortune's child; <br>When fades each lovely form by fancy drest,<br>And inly pines the self-consuming breast;<br>(No scourge of scorpions in thy right arm dread.<br>No helmed terrors nodding o'er thy head); <br>Assume, O death! the cherub wings of peace,<br>And bid the heart-sick wanderer's anguish cease!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thee, Chatterton! yon unblest stones protect<br>From want, and the bleak freezings of neglect!<br>Escaped the sore wounds of affliction's rod,<br>Meek at the throne of mercy, and of God,<br>Perchance, thou raisest high th' enraptured hymn<br>Amid the blaze of seraphin!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet oft ('tis nature's call)<br>I weep, that heaven-born genius so should fall;<br>And oft, in fancy's saddest hour, my soul<br>Averted shudders at the poisoned bowl.<br>Now groans my sickening heart, as still I view<br>Thy corse of livid hue;<br>And now a flash of indignation high<br>Darts thro' the tear, that glistens in mine eye!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is this the land of song-ennobled line?<br>Is this the land, where genius ne'er in vain<br>Pour'd forth his lofty strain?<br>Ah me! yet Spenser, gentlest bard divine,<br>Beneath chill disappointment's shade,<br>His weary limbs in lonely anguish laid,<br>And o'er her darling dead<br>Pity hopeless hung her head,<br>While 'mid the pelting of that merciless storm,<br>Sunk to the cold earth Otway's famished form?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sublime of thought, and confident of fame<br>From vales where Avon winds the minstrel came<br>Lighted-hearted youth! he hastes along<br>And meditates the future song.<br>How dauntless AElla fray'd the Dacian foes:<br>See, as floating high in air<br>Glitter teh sunny visions fair,<br>His eyes dance rapture, and his bosom glows?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! where are fled the charms of vernal grace,<br>And joy's wild gleams, light-flashing o'er thy face?<br>Youth of tumultuous soul, and haggard eye!<br>Thy wasted form, thy hurried steps I view,<br>On thy cold forehead starts the anguished dew:<br>And dreadful was that bosom-rending sigh!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such were the struggles of that gloomy hour,<br>When care, of withered brow,<br>Prepared the poison's power:<br>Already to thy lips was raised the bowl.<br>When near thee stood affection meek<br>(Her bosom bare, and wildly pale her cheek)<br>Thy sullen gaze she bade thee roll<br>On scenes that well might melt thy soul;<br>Thy native cot she flashed upon thy view,<br>Thy native cot, where still, at close of day,<br>Peace smiling sate, and listened to thy lay;<br>Thy sister's shrieks she bade thee hear,<br>And mark thy mother's tear;<br>See, see her breast's convulsive throe,<br>Her silent agony of woe!<br>Ah! dash the poisoned chalice from thy hand!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou hadst dashed it, at her soft command,<br>But that despair and indignation rose,<br>And told again the story of thy woes;<br>Told the keen insult of th' unfeeling heart;<br>The dread dependence on the low-born mind;<br>Told ev'ry pang, with which thy soul must smart,<br>Neglect, and grinning scorn, and want combined!<br>Recoiling quick, thou bad'st the friend of pain<br>Roll the black tide of death thro' every freezing vein!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye woods! that wave o'er Avon's rocky steep,<br>To fancy's ear sweet is your murm'ring deep!<br>For here she loves the cypress wreath to weave;<br>Watching, with wistful eye, the sadd'ning tints of eve.<br>Here, far from men, amid this pathless grove,<br>In solemn thought the minstrel wont to rove,<br>Like star-beam on the slow sequestered tide<br>Lone-glittering, thro' the high tree branching wide.<br>And here, in inspiration's eager hour, <br>When most the big soul feels the madd'ning power,<br>These wilds, these caverns roaming o'er,<br>Round which the screaming sea-gulls soar,<br>With wild unequal steps he passed along,<br>Oft pouring on the winds a broken song:<br>Anon, upon some rough rock's fearful brow<br>Would pause abrupt -- and gaze upon the waves below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor Chatterton! he sorrows for thy fate<br>Who would have praised and loved thee, ere too late.<br>Poor Chatterton! farewell! of darkest hues<br>This chaplet cast I on thy shapeless tomb;<br>But dare no longer on the sad theme muse,<br>Lest kindred woes persuade a kindred doom!<br>Hence, gloomy thoughts! no more my soul shall dwell<br>On joys that were! No more endure to weigh<br>The shame and anguish of the evil day,<br>Wisely forgetful! O'er the ocean swell<br>Sublime of hope I seek the cottaged dell<br>Where virtue calm with careless step may stray;<br>And, dancing to the moonlight roundelay,<br>The wizard passions weave an holy spell!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Chatterton! that thou wert yet alive!<br>Sure thou would'st spread the canvas to the gale,<br>And love, with us, the tinkling team to drive<br>O'er peaceful freedom's undivided dale;<br>And we, at sober eve, would round thee throng,<br>Hanging, enraptured, on thy stately song!<br>And greet with smiles the young-eyed poesy<br>All deftly mask'd, as hoar antiquity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, vain phantasies! the fleeting brood<br>Of woe self-solaced in her dreamy mood!<br>Yet will I love to follow the sweet dream,<br>Where Susquehannah pours his untamed stream;<br>And on some hill, whose forest-frowning side<br>Waves o'er the murmurs of his calmer tide,<br>Will raise a solemn cenotaph to thee,<br>Sweet harper of time-shrouded minstrelsy!<br>And there, soothed sadly by the dirgeful wind,<br>Muse on the sore ills I had left behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Samuel+Taylor+Coleridge">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=512793" data-title="Monody On The Death Of Chatterton de Samuel Taylor Coleridge" data-description="When faint and sad o'er sorrow's desert wild
Slow journeys onward poor misfortune's child; 
When fades each lovely form by fancy drest,
And inly pines the self-consuming breast;
(No scourge of scorpions in thy right arm dread.
No helmed terrors no..."></div>
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