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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=512891" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To A Young Lady, With A Poem On The French Revolution</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Much on my early youth I love to dwell,<br>Ere yet I bade that friendly dome farewell,<br>Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters, pale,<br>I heard of guilt and wondered at the tale!<br>Yet tho' the hours flew by on careless wing,<br>Full heavily of sorrow would I sing.<br>Aye as the star of evening flung its beam<br>In broken radiance on the wavy stream,<br>My soul amid the pensive twilight gloom<br>Mourned with the breeze, O, Lee Boo! o'er thy tomb.<br>Where'er I wanderd, pity still was near,<br>Breathed from the heart and glistened in the tear:<br>No knell that tolled, but filled my anxious eye,<br>And suffering nature wept that one should die!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus to sad sympathies I soothed my breast,<br>Calm, as the rainbow in the weeping west:<br>When slumb'ring freedom roused by high disdain<br>With giant fury burst her triple chain!<br>Fierce on her front the blasting dog-star glowed;<br>Her banners like a midnight meteor flowed;<br>Amid the yelling of the storm-rent skies<br>She came, and scattered battles from her eyes!<br>Then exultation waked the patriot fire<br>And swept with wilder hand the Alcaean lyre:<br>Red from the tyrant's wound I shook the lance,<br>And strode in joy the reeking plains of France!<br>Fall'n is th' oppressor, friendless, ghastly, low, <br>And my heart aches tho' mercy struck the blow.<br>With wearied thought once more I see the shade,<br>Where peaceful virtue weaves the myrtle braid. <br>And O! if eyes, whose holy glances roll,<br>Swift messengers, and eloquent of soul; <br>If smiles more winning, and a gentler mien,<br>Than the love-wildered maniac's brain hath seen<br>Shaping celestial forms in vacant air,<br>If these demand th' impassioned poet's care--<br>If mirth, and softened sense, and wit refined,<br>The blameless features of a lovely mind;<br>Then haply shall my trembling hand assign<br>No fading wreath beauty's saintly shrine.<br>Nor, Sara! thou these early flowers refuse----<br>Ne'er lurked the snake beneath their simple hues,<br>No purple bloom the child of nature brings<br>From flatt'ry's night-shade: as he feels, he sings.<br>Sept. 1794.</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=512891" data-title="To A Young Lady, With A Poem On The French Revolution de Samuel Taylor Coleridge" data-description="Much on my early youth I love to dwell,
Ere yet I bade that friendly dome farewell,
Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters, pale,
I heard of guilt and wondered at the tale!
Yet tho' the hours flew by on careless wing,
Full heavily of sorrow wo..."></div>
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