Whether to me shall be allotted life,
  And, with life, power to accomplish aught of worth,
  That will be deemed no insufficient plea 390
  For having given the story of myself,
  Is all uncertain:  but, beloved Friend! 
  When, looking back, thou seest, in clearer view
  Than any liveliest sight of yesterday,
  That summer, under whose indulgent skies, 395
  Upon smooth Quantock’s airy ridge we roved
  Unchecked, or loitered ’mid her sylvan combs, [L]
  Thou in bewitching words, with happy heart,
  Didst chaunt the vision of that Ancient Man,
  The bright-eyed Mariner, [L] and rueful woes 400
  Didst utter of the Lady Christabel; [L]
  And I, associate with such labour, steeped
  In soft forgetfulness the livelong hours,
  Murmuring of him who, joyous hap, was found,
  After the perils of his moonlight ride, 405
  Near the loud waterfall; [L] or her who sate
  In misery near the miserable Thorn; [L]
  When thou dost to that summer turn thy thoughts,
  And hast before thee all which then we were,
  To thee, in memory of that happiness, 410
  It will be known, by thee at least, my Friend! 
  Felt, that the history of a Poet’s mind
  Is labour not unworthy of regard: 
  To thee the work shall justify itself.

    The last and later portions of this gift 415
  Have been prepared, not with the buoyant spirits
  That were our daily portion when we first
  Together wantoned in wild Poesy,
  But, under pressure of a private grief, [M]
  Keen and enduring, which the mind and heart, 420
  That in this meditative history
  Have been laid open, needs must make me feel
  More deeply, yet enable me to bear
  More firmly; and a comfort now hath risen
  From hope that thou art near, and wilt be soon 425
  Restored to us in renovated health;
  When, after the first mingling of our tears,
  ’Mong other consolations, we may draw
  Some pleasure from this offering of my love.

    Oh! yet a few short years of useful life, 430
  And all will be complete, thy race be run,
  Thy monument of glory will be raised;
  Then, though (too weak to tread the ways of truth)
  This age fall back to old idolatry,
  Though men return to servitude as fast 435
  As the tide ebbs, to ignominy and shame
  By nations sink together, we shall still
  Find solace—­knowing what we have learnt to know,
  Rich in true happiness if allowed to be
  Faithful alike in forwarding a day 440
  Of firmer trust, joint labourers in the work
  (Should Providence such grace to us vouchsafe)
  Of their deliverance, surely yet to come.