Part 4 (2/2)

_November_ 14, 1796.

Coleridge, I love you for dedicating your poetry to Bowles. [1] Genius of the sacred fountain of tears, it was he who led you gently by the hand through all this valley of weeping, showed you the dark green yew-trees and the willow shades where, by the fall of waters, you might indulge in uncomplaining melancholy, a delicious regret for the past, or weave fine visions of that awful future,--

”When all the vanities of life's brief day Oblivion's hurrying hand hath swept away, And all its sorrows, at the awful blast Of the archangel's trump, are but as shadows past.”

I have another sort of dedication in my head for my few things, which I want to know if you approve of and can insert. [2] I mean to inscribe them to my sister. It will be unexpected, and it will gire her pleasure; or do you think it will look whimsical at all? As I have not spoke to her about it, I can easily reject the idea. But there is a monotony in the affections which people living together, or as we do now, very frequently seeing each other, are apt to give in to,--a sort of indifference in the expression of kindness for each other, which demands that we should sometimes call to our aid the trickery of surprise. Do you publish with Lloyd, or without him? In either case my little portion may come last, and after the fas.h.i.+on of orders to a country correspondent, I will give directions how I should like to have 'em done. The t.i.tle-page to stand thus:--

POEMS

BY CHARLES LAMB, OF THE INDIA HOUSE.

Under this t.i.tle the following motto, which, for want of room, I put over-leaf, and desire you to insert whether you like it or no. May not a gentleman choose what arms, mottoes, or armorial bearings the herald will give him leave, without consulting his republican friend, who might advise none? May not a publican put up the sign of the Saracen's Head, even though his undiscerning neighbor should prefer, as more genteel, the Cat and Gridiron?

[MOTTO.]

”This beauty, in the blossom of my youth, When my first fire knew no adulterate incense, Nor I no way to flatter but my fondness, In the best language my true tongue could tell me, And all the broken sighs my sick heart lend me, I sued and served. Long did I love this lady.” [1]

Ma.s.sINGER.

THE DEDICATION.

THE FEW FOLLOWING POEMS, CREATURES OF THE FANCY AND THE FEELING IN LIFE'S MORE VACANT HOURS, PRODUCED, FOR THE MOST PART, BY LOVE IN IDLENESS, ARE, WITH ALL A BROTHER'S FONDNESS, INSCRIBED TO

MARY ANN LAMB,

THE AUTHOR'S BEST FRIEND ANB SISTER.

This is the pomp and paraphernalia of parting, with which I take my leave of a pa.s.sion which has reigned so royally (so long) within me; thus, with its trappings of laureates.h.i.+p, I fling it off, pleased and satisfied with myself that the weakness troubles me no longer. I am wedded. Coleridge, to the fortunes of my sister and my poor old father.

Oh, my friend, I think sometimes, could I recall the days that are past, which among them should I choose? Not, those ”merrier days,” not the ”pleasant days of hope,” not ”those wanderings with a fair-hair'd maid,” [2] which I have so often, and so feelingly regretted, but the days, Coleridge, of a _mother's_ fondness for her _schoolboy_. What would I give to call her back to earth for _one_ day, on my knees to ask her pardon for all those little asperities of temper which from time to time have given her gentle spirit pain. And the day, my friend, I trust will come; there will be ”time enough” for kind offices of love, if ”Heaven's eternal year” be ours. Hereafter, her meek spirit shall not reproach me. Oh, my friend, cultivate the filial feelings, and let no man think himself released from the kind ”charities” of relations.h.i.+p.

These shall give him peace at the last; these are the best foundation for every species of benevolence. I rejoice to hear, by certain channels, that you, my friend, are reconciled with all your relations.

'T is the most kindly and natural species of love, and we have all the a.s.sociated train of early feelings to secure its strength and perpetuity. Send me an account of your health; _indeed_ I am solicitous about you. G.o.d love you and yours!

C. LAMB.

[1] From ”A Very Woman.”

[2] An allusion to Lamb's first love,--the ”Anna” of his sonnets, and the original, probably, of ”Rosamund Gray” and of ”Alice W---n” in the beautiful essay ”Dream Children.”

[3] The earliest sonnets of William Lisle Bowles were published in 1789, the year of Lamb's removal from Christ's Hospital.

[4] Alluding to the prospective joint volume of poems (by Coleridge, Lamb, and Charles Lloyd) to be published by Cottle in 1797. This was Lamb's second serious literary venture, he and Coleridge having issued a joint volume in 1796.

<script>