At his work late and early,

The light-hearted churl, he

Sang merrily, greeting the eve and the morn.

I hated his mirth-'twas too much to be borne

To see him so merry both early and late.
I had sworn the deadly oath of hate,

And his note must be changed or I forsworn.
So the next time that his net he dragg'd,
With a golden burden the full net swagg'd.
"Tis down on the nail the yellow ones glimmer;
He gloats till his peepers wax dimmer and dimmer.
He hugg'd the bright devil, he lugg'd it along,
And there was an end of his mirth and his song;
And then he lived like the Prodigal Son,

And he gave to his lust dominion:

But Mammon, the rogue, he soon was gone,-
He fled with a lusty pinion.

'Twas faery gold, and he thought "All's well;"
He knew not-the fool!-'twas the loan of hell.
And all was spent, and grim Want came;
Away sunk the lads of the revel.

Grace cast off him, and he cast off shame,
And he gave himself up to the Devil.
And he served the fiend with hand and will,
And he went to and fro to pillage and kill.
I chanced to pass this very day
Where on the gold he lighted:

On the bare beach I found him howling away,
With wan looks scathed and blighted.

And hark what said the hope-lorn elf:—

66

False witch, false ocean's daughter,

Thou gavest me gold,-thou shalt have myself!" So plunged in the salt water.

STATIUS, LIB. I. 493.

OBTUTU gelida ora premit, lætusque per artus
Horror iit sensit manifesto numine ductos
Affore, quos nexis ambagibus augur Apollo
Portendi generos, vultu fallente ferarum,
Ediderat. Tunc sic tendens ad sidera palmas:
Nox, quæ terrarum cœlique amplexa labores
Ignea multivago transmittis sidera lapsu,
Indulgens reparare animum, dum proximus ægris
Infundat Titan agiles animantibus ortus,
Tu mihi perplexis quæsitam erroribus ultro
Advehis alma fidem, veterisque exordia fati
Detegis adsistas operi, tuaque omina firmes.
Semper honoratum dimensis orbibus anni
Te domus ista colet: nigri tibi, diva, litabunt
Electa cervice greges, lustraliaque exta
Lacte novo perfusus edet Vulcanius ignis.
Salve, prisca fides tripodum, obscurique recessus.
Deprendi, Fortuna, deos.

His chilly lips hard closing at the sight,

His every member grueing with delight,

At once by tokens manifest he spies

That they are here, whom quaintly twisted plies
And knots and labyrinths of oracular saw,

Inspired by Phoebus, named his sons-in-law,

In form of beasts foreshown. With palms outspread
Towards the sky, in awful accent said

The king illumined: Thou, whose compass dread
And universal empire dost contain

Both heaven and earth, and all their woe and pain;
Night, that transmittest stellar influence
With manifold illapse to heal the sense
Of weary mortals by a kind renewing,
Till Titan bid them to be up and doing:
At last in happy hour thou bring'st to me
The truth long sought in sore perplexity,—
Reveal'st the principles of Destiny.

Aid but the work, and make the omen sure,
From age to age thy rites shall still endure.
Yon house shall honour thee, O reverend Night!
With sable victims and drink-offerings white
Of purest milk. The hallow'd flame shall sup
The liquid gifts and eat the entrails up.
Hail secret place, all hail thou seat divine,
Mysterious symbol of the dreadful Trine!

PEAN OF ARIPHOON THE SICYONIAN.
Υγίεια πρεσβίστα Μακάρων.

HOLIEST and first of all the happy powers,
Sacred Hygeia! let me dwell with thee-
For all the remnant of my living hours,
Come thou, benign, and share my home with me;
For if there be or good or grace

In riches, offering, or high place
Of godlike empery or delight,

Which, in the hidden nets of Aphrodite,
We would inveigle-aught at all

That from the gods poor man obtains
To soothe him in his toils and pains,-
Blest Hygeia at thy call

Blossoms every pleasant thing:

With thee the Graces spend their spring;

But without thee

No living thing can happy be.

PROMETHEUS.

A FRAGMENT.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THIS fragment, which, if regarded as a dramatic scene, may be read as a whole, was written in or about the year 1820, when it was shown by the author to his father, who was much pleased with the commencement, and took great interest in the work. This may, however, have operated as a virtual discouragement. The elder Coleridge saw in the fable of Prometheus, as treated by Eschylus, a profound and complex philosopheme, which the unsphered spirit of Plato might have been taxed to unfold. Fully to master the idea, required a tension of mind which, it may be, the younger poet did not bring to the task. To work up such stern materials into poetry might have seemed to him impracticable, or at least foreign to his own genius; and indeed, whoever will cast his eye over the disquisition on this subject, in the second volume of “Coleridge's Literary Remains,” will not be surprised that the youthful Telemachus shrunk from the attempt to bend his father's bow.

As the poetry in these volumes is by no means intended exclusively for scholars, it may not be amiss to give a short analysis of the Æschylean drama, from which the following

VOL. II.

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