And fears self-willed, that shunned the eye of hope; And hope that scarce would know itself from fear; Sense of past youth, and manhood come in vain, And genius given, and knowledge won in vain; And all which I had culled in wood-walks wild, And all which patient toil had reared, and all, Commune with thee had opened out--but flowers Strewed on my corse, and borne upon my bier, In the same coffin, for the self-same grave! ... Eve following eve, Dear tranquil time, when the sweet sense of Home Is sweetest! moments for their own sake hailed, And more desired, more precious for thy song, In silence listening, like a devout child, My soul lay passive, by thy various strain Driven as in surges now beneath the stars, With momentary stars of my own birth, Fair constellated foam, [C] still darting off Into the darkness; now a tranquil sea, Outspread and bright, yet swelling to the moon. And when--O Friend! my comforter and guide! Strong in thyself, and powerful to give strength!-- Thy long-sustained Song finally closed, And thy deep voice had ceased--yet thou thyself Wert still before my eyes, and round us both That happy vision of beloved faces-- Scarce conscious, and yet conscious of its close I sate, my being blended in one thought (Thought was it? or aspiration? or resolve?) Absorbed, yet hanging still upon the sound-- And when I rose I found myself in prayer. It was at Coleorton, in Leicestershire,--where the Wordsworths lived during the winter of 1806-7, in a farm-house belonging to Sir George Beaumont, and where Coleridge visited them,--that 'The Prelude' was read aloud by its author, on the occasion which gave birth to these lines.--Ed. [Footnote A: See the 'De Quincey Memorials,' vol. i. p. 125.--Ed.] [Footnote B: A poem on his brother John.--Ed.] [Footnote C: Compare "A beautiful white cloud of foam at momentary intervals, coursed by the side of the vessel with a roar, and little stars of flame danced and sparkled and went out in it: and every now and then light detachments of this white cloud-like foam darted off from the vessel's side, each with its own small constellation, over the sea, and scoured out of sight like a Tartar troop over a wilderness." S. T. C. in 'Biographia Literaria', Satyrane's Letters, letter i. p. 196 (edition 1817).--Ed.] * * * * * BOOK FIRST INTRODUCTION.--CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL-TIME