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Album The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Vol I

France: An Ode. by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

France: An Ode. Annotated

I
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause,
&nbspWhose pathless march no mortal may controul!
&nbspYe Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll,
Yield homage only to eternal laws!
Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing,
&nbspMidway the smooth and perilous slope reclined,
Save when your own imperious branches swinging,
&nbspHave made a solemn music of the wind!
Where, like a man beloved of God,
Through glooms, which never woodman trod,
&nbsp       &nbspHow oft, pursuing fancies holy,
My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,
&nbsp       &nbspInspired, beyond the guess of folly,
By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!
O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!
&nbspAnd O ye Clouds that far above me soared!
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!
&nbspYea, every thing that is and will be free!
&nbspBear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,
&nbspWith what deep worship I have still adored
&nbsp       &nbspThe spirit of divinest Liberty.

II
When France in wrath her giant-limbs upreared,
&nbspAnd with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea,
&nbspStamped her strong foot and said she would be free,
Bear witness for me, how I hoped and feared!
With what a joy my lofty gratulation
&nbspUnawed I sang, amid a slavish band:
And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,
&nbspLike fiends embattled by a wizard's wand,
&nbsp       &nbspThe Monarchs marched in evil day,
&nbsp       &nbspAnd Britain joined the dire array;
&nbspThough dear her shores and circling ocean,
Though many friendships, many youthful loves
&nbspHad swoln the patriot emotion
And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves;
Yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat
&nbspTo all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance,
And shame too long delayed and vain retreat!
For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim
I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame;
&nbspBut blessed the paeans of delivered France,
And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.

III
'And what,' I said, 'though Blasphemy's loud scream
&nbspWith that sweet music of deliverance strove!
&nbspThough all the fierce and drunken passions wove
A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream!
&nbspYe storms, that round the dawning East assembled,
The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!'
&nbspAnd when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,
The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright;
&nbspWhen France her front deep-scarr'd and gory
&nbspConcealed with clustering wreaths of glory;
&nbsp       &nbspWhen, insupportably advancing,
&nbspHer arm made mockery of the warrior's ramp;
&nbsp       &nbspWhile timid looks of fury glancing,
&nbspDomestic treason, crushed beneath her fatal stamp,
Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore;
&nbspThen I reproached my fears that would not flee;
'And soon,' I said, 'shall Wisdom teach her lore
In the low huts of them that toil and groan!
And, conquering by her happiness alone,
&nbspShall France compel the nations to be free,
Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth their own.'

IV
Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!
&nbspI hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament,
&nbspFrom bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sent—
I hear thy groans upon her blood-stained streams!
&nbspHeroes, that for your peaceful country perished,
And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows
&nbspWith bleeding wounds; forgive me, that I cherished
One thought that ever blessed your cruel foes!
&nbspTo scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,
&nbspWhere Peace her jealous home had built;
&nbsp       &nbspA patriot-race to disinherit
Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear;
&nbsp       &nbspAnd with inexpiable spirit
To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer—
O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind,
&nbspAnd patriot only in pernicious toils!
Are these thy boasts, Champion of human kind?
&nbspTo mix with Kings in the low lust of sway,
Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey;
To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils
&nbspFrom freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?

V
&nbsp       &nbspThe Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain,
&nbspSlaves by their own compulsion! In mad game
&nbspThey burst their manacles and wear the name
&nbsp       &nbspOf Freedom, graven on a heavier chain!
&nbspO Liberty! with profitless endeavour
Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour;
&nbspBut thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever
Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power.
&nbspAlike from all, howe'er they praise thee,
&nbsp(Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee)
&nbsp       &nbspAlike from Priestcraft's harpy minions,
&nbspAnd factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves,
&nbsp       &nbspThou speedest on thy subtle pinions,
The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves!
And there I felt thee!—on that sea-cliff's verge,
&nbspWhose pines, scarce travelled by the breeze above,
Had made one murmur with the distant surge!
Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare,
And shot my being through earth, sea, and air,
&nbspPossessing all things with intensest love,
&nbsp       &nbspO Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.

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