PREFACE TO THALABA THE DESTROYER.

Ir was said, in the original Preface to "Joan of Arc," that the author would not be in England to witness its reception, but that he would attend to liberal criticism, and hoped to profit by it in the composition of a poem upon the discovery of America by the Welsh prince Madoc.

That subject I had fixed upon when a schoolboy, and had often conversed upon the probabilities of the story with the school-fellow to whom, sixteen years afterwards, I had the satisfaction of inscribing the poem. It was commenced at Bath in the autumn of 1794; but, upon putting "Joan of Arc" to the press, its progress was necessarily suspended, and it was not resumed till the second edition of that work had been completed: then it became my chief occupation during twelve months that I resided in the village of Westbury, near Bristol. This was one of the happiest portions of my life. I never, before or since, produced so much poetry in the same space of time. The smaller pieces were communicated by letter to Charles Lamb, and had the advantage of his animadversions. I was then also in habits of the most frequent and intimate intercourse with Davy, then in the flower and freshness of his youth. We were within an easy walk of each other, over some of the most beautiful ground in that beautiful part of England. When I went to the Pneumatic Institution, he had to tell me of some new experiment or discovery, and of the views which it opened for him; and, when he came to West

bury, there was a fresh portion of "Madoc" for his hearing. Davy encouraged me with his hearty approbation during its progress; and the bag of nitrous oxide, with which he generally regaled me upon my visits to him, was not required for raising my spirits to the degree of settled fair, and keeping them at that elevation.

In November, 1836, I walked to that village with my son, wishing to show him a house endeared to me by so many recollections; but not a vestige of it remained, and local alterations rendered it impossible even to ascertain its site, which is now included within the grounds of a nunnery! The bosom friends with whom I associated there have all departed before me; and, of the domestic circle in which my happiness was then centred, I am the sole survivor.

When we removed from Westbury at Midsummer, 1799, I had reached the penultimate book of “Madoc.” That poem was finished on the 12th of July following, at Kingsdown, Bristol, in the house of an old lady, whose portrait hangs, with that of my own mother, in the room wherein I am now writing. The son who lived with her was one of my dearest friends, and one of the best men I ever knew or heard of. In those days I was an early riser. The time so gained was usually employed in carrying on the poem which I had in hand; and, when Charles Danvers came down to breakfast on the morning after "Madoc" was completed, I had the first hundred lines of "Thalaba" to show him, fresh from the mint.

But this poem was neither crudely conceived nor hastily undertaken. I had fixed upon the ground, four years before, for a Mahommedan tale; and, in the course of that time, the plan had been formed, and the materials collected. It was pursued with unabating ardor at Exeter, in the village of Burton, near Christ Church, and afterwards at Kingsdown, till the ensuing spring, when Dr. Beddoes advised me to go to the south of Europe, on account of my health. For Lisbon, therefore, we set off, and, hastening to Falmouth, found the packet in which we wished to sail detained in harbor by westerly winds. "Six days we watched the weathercock, and sighed for north-easters. I walked on the beach, caught soldier-crabs, admired the sea-anemones in their ever-varying shapes of

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beauty, read Gebir,' and wrote half a book of Thalaba.'" This sentence is from a letter written on our arrival at Lisbon; and it is here inserted because the sea-anemones (which I have never had any other opportunity of observing) were introduced in "Thalaba" soon afterwards; and because, as already stated, I am sensible of having derived great improvement from the frequent perusal of " Gebir" at that time.

Change of circumstances and of climate effected an immediate cure of what proved to be not an organic disease. A week after our landing at Lisbon, I resumed my favorite work; and I completed it at Cintra, a year and six days after the day of its commencement.

A fair transcript was sent to England. Mr. Rickman, with whom I had fallen in at Christ Church in 1797, and whose friendship from that time I have ever accounted among the singular advantages and happinesses of my life, negotiated for its publication with Messrs. Longman and Rees. It was printed at Bristol by Biggs and Cottle; and the task of correcting the press was undertaken for me by Davy, and our common friend Danvers, under whose roof it had been begun.

The copy which was made from the original draught, regularly as the poem proceeded, is still in my possession. The first corrections were made as they occurred in the process of transcribing; at which time the verses were tried upon my own ear, and had the advantage of being seen in a fair and remarkably legible handwriting. In this transcript the dates of time and place were noted; and things which would otherwise have been forgotten have thus been brought to my recollection. Herein also the alterations were inserted which the poem underwent before it was printed. They were very numerous. Much was pruned off, and more was ingrafted. I was not satisfied with the first part of the concluding book: it was therefore crossed out, and something substituted altogether different in design. But this substitution was so far from being fortunate, that it neither pleased my friends in England nor myself. I then made a third attempt, which succeeded to my own satisfaction and to theirs.

I was in Portugal when "Thalaba" was published. Its reception was very different from that with which "Joan of

Arc" had been welcomed: in proportion as the poem deserved better, it was treated worse. Upon this occasion my name was first coupled with Mr. Wordsworth's. We were then, and for some time afterwards, all but strangers to each other; and certainly there were no two poets in whose productions, the difference not being that between good and bad, less resemblance could be found. But I happened to be residing at Keswick when Mr. Wordsworth and I began to be acquainted; Mr. Coleridge also had resided there; and this was reason enough for classing us together as a school of poets. Accordingly, for more than twenty years from that time, every tyro in criticism, who could smatter and sneer, tried his "prentice hand" upon the Lake Poets; and every young sportsman, who carried a popgun in the field of satire, considered them as fair game.

KESWICK, Nov. 8, 1837.

PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.

IN the continuation of the Arabian Tales, the Domdaniel is mentioned, a seminary for evil magicians, under the roots of the sea. From this seed the present romance has grown. Let me not be supposed to prefer the rhythm in which it is written, abstractedly considered, to the regular blank verse,the noblest measure, in my judgment, of which our admirable language is capable. For the following poem I have preferred it, because it suits the varied subject: it is the Arabesque ornament of an Arabian tale.

The dramatic sketches of Dr. Sayers, a volume which no lover of poetry will recollect without pleasure, induced me, when a young versifier, to practise in this rhythm. I felt that, while it gave the poet a wider range of expression, it satisfied the ear of the reader. It were easy to make a parade of learning, by enumerating the various feet which it admits: it is only

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needful to observe that no two lines are employed in sequence which can be read into one. Two six-syllable lines, it will perhaps be answered, compose an Alexandrine: the truth is, that the Alexandrine, when harmonious, is composed of two six-syllable lines.

One advantage this metre assuredly possesses, - the dullest reader cannot distort it into discord: he may read it prosaically, but its flow and fall will still be perceptible. Verse is not enough favored by the English reader. Perhaps this is owing to the obtrusiveness, the regular Jew's-harp twing-twang, o. what has been foolishly called heroic measure. I do not wish the improvisatorè tune, but something that denotes the sense of harmony, something like the accent of feeling, tone which every poet necessarily gives to poetry.

CINTRA, October, 1800.

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