***
SONNET.
[Published by Leigh Hunt, “The Literary Pocket-Book”, 1823. There is a transcript amongst the Ollier manuscripts, and another in the Harvard manuscript book.]
Ye hasten to the grave! What seek ye there,
Ye restless thoughts and busy purposes
Of the idle brain, which the world’s livery
wear?
O thou quick heart, which pantest to possess
All that pale Expectation feigneth fair!
5
Thou vainly curious mind which wouldest guess
Whence thou didst come, and whither thou must go,
And all that never yet was known would know—
Oh, whither hasten ye, that thus ye press,
With such swift feet life’s green and pleasant
path, 10
Seeking, alike from happiness and woe,
A refuge in the cavern of gray death?
O heart, and mind, and thoughts! what thing do you
Hope to inherit in the grave below?
NOTE:
1 grave Ollier manuscript;
dead Harvard manuscript, 1823, editions
1824, 1839.
5 pale Expectation Ollier manuscript;
anticipation Harvard manuscript,
1823, editions 1824, 1839.
7 must Harvard manuscript, 1823; mayst 1824; mayest
editions 1839.
8 all that Harvard manuscript, 1823; that which
editions 1824, 1839.
would Harvard manuscript, 1823;
wouldst editions 1839.
***
LINES TO A REVIEWER.
[Published by Leigh Hunt, “The Literary Pocket-Book”, 1823. These lines, and the “Sonnet” immediately preceding, are signed Sigma in the “Literary Pocket-Book".]
Alas, good friend, what profit can you see
In hating such a hateless thing as me?
There is no sport in hate where all the rage
Is on one side: in vain would you assuage
Your frowns upon an unresisting smile,
5
In which not even contempt lurks to beguile
Your heart, by some faint sympathy of hate.
Oh, conquer what you cannot satiate!
For to your passion I am far more coy
Than ever yet was coldest maid or boy
10
In winter noon. Of your antipathy
If I am the Narcissus, you are free
To pine into a sound with hating me.
NOTE:
3 where editions 1824, 1839; when 1823.
***
FRAGMENT OF A SATIRE ON SATIRE.
[Published by Edward Dowden, “Correspondence of Robert Southey and Caroline Bowles”, 1880.]
If gibbets, axes, confiscations, chains,
And racks of subtle torture, if the pains
Of shame, of fiery Hell’s tempestuous wave,
Seen through the caverns of the shadowy grave,
Hurling the damned into the murky air
5
While the meek blest sit smiling; if Despair
And Hate, the rapid bloodhounds with which Terror