The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4: Poems and Plays

Name: The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4: Poems and Plays
Author: Lamb, Charles

Lamb, Charles

English drama; English poetry

"Of earth-born Heroes why should Poets sing,
        And thee neglect, neglect the greatest King?
        To thee ev'n Caesar's self was forc'd to yield
        The glories of Pharsalia's well-fought field."

        When, with a frown, "Vile caitiff, come not here,"
        Abrupt cried Death; "shall flatt'ry soothe my ear?"
        "Hence, or thou feel'st my dart!" the Monarch said.
        Wild terror seiz'd me, & the vision fled.




              POEMS IN COLERIDGE'S POEMS ON
                 VARIOUS SUBJECTS, 1796


        (_Written late in 1794. Text of 1797_)

        As when a child on some long winter's night
        Affrighted clinging to its Grandam's knees
        With eager wond'ring and perturb'd delight
        Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees
        Mutter'd to wretch by necromantic spell;
        Or of those hags, who at the witching time
        Of murky midnight ride the air sublime,
        And mingle foul embrace with fiends of Hell:
        Cold Horror drinks its blood! Anon the tear
        More gentle starts, to hear the Beldame tell
        Of pretty babes, that lov'd each other dear,
        Murder'd by cruel Uncle's mandate fell:
        Ev'n such the shiv'ring joys thy tones impart,
        Ev'n so thou, SIDDONS! meltest my sad heart!


        (_Probably 1795. Text of 1818_)

        Was it some sweet device of Faery
        That mocked my steps with many a lonely glade,
        And fancied wanderings with a fair-hair'd maid?
        Have these things been? or what rare witchery,
        Impregning with delights the charmed air,
        Enlighted up the semblance of a smile
        In those fine eyes? methought they spake the while
        Soft soothing things, which might enforce despair
        To drop the murdering knife, and let go by
        His foul resolve. And does the lonely glade
        Still court the foot-steps of the fair-hair'd maid?
        Still in her locks the gales of summer sigh?
        While I forlorn do wander reckless where,
        And 'mid my wanderings meet no Anna there.


        (_Probably_ 1795. _Text of_ 1818)

        Methinks how dainty sweet it were, reclin'd
        Beneath the vast out-stretching branches high
        Of some old wood, in careless sort to lie,
        Nor of the busier scenes we left behind
        Aught envying. And, O Anna! mild-eyed maid!
        Beloved! I were well content to play
        With thy free tresses all a summer's day,
        Losing the time beneath the greenwood shade.
        Or we might sit and tell some tender tale
        Of faithful vows repaid by cruel scorn,
        A tale of true love, or of friend forgot;
        And I would teach thee, lady, how to rail
        In gentle sort, on those who practise not
        Or love or pity, though of woman born.


        (1794. _Text of_ 1818)

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4: Poems and Plays

No reviews yet