57

That France has put us oft to routWithpowder, which ourselves found out;And laughs at us for fools inprint,Of which our genius was the Mint;All this I easily admit,For we have genius, France has wit.But 'tis too bad, that blind and madTo Frenchmen's wives each travelling German goes,Expands his manly vigour bytheirsides,Becomes the father of his country's foesAnd turnstheir warriorsoft to parricides.

First published inMorning Post, Oct. 11, 1802. Adapted from Wernicke'sEpigrams(Bk. VIII, No. 4),Auf die Buhlerey der Deutschen in Frankreich.

'Dass Frankreich uns pflegt zu verwundenDurch Pulver, welches wir erfunden.'

Our English poets, bad and good, agreeTo make the Sun a male, the Moon a she.He driveshisdazzling diligence on high,In verse, as constantly as in the sky;And cheap as blackberries our sonnets shewThe Moon, Heaven's huntress, withhersilver bow;By which they'd teach us, if I guess aright,Man rules the day, and woman rules the night.In Germany, they just reverse the thing;The Sun becomes a queen, the Moon a king.[969]Now, that the Sun should represent the women,The Moon the men, to me seem'd mighty humming;And when I first read German, made me stare.Surely it is not that the wives are thereAscommonas the Sun, to lord and loon,And all their husbandshornédas the Moon.

First published inMorning Post, Oct. 11, 1802. Adapted from Wernicke'sEpigrams(Bk. VII, No. 15),Die Sonne und der Mond.

'Die Sonn' heisst die, der Mond heisst derIn unsrer Sprach', und kommt daher,Weil meist die Fraun wie diegemein,Wie dergehörntwir Männer sein.'

My father confessor is strict and holy,Mi Fili, still he cries,peccare noli.And yet how oft I find the pious manAt Annette's door, the lovely courtesan!Her soul's deformity the good man winsAnd not her charms! he comes to hear her sins!Good father! I would fain not do thee wrong;But ah! I fear that they who oft and longStand gazing at the sun, to count each spot,Mustsometimes find the sun itself too hot.

First published inMorning Post, Oct. 11, 1802.

When Surface talks of other people's worthHe has the weakest memory on earth!And when his own good deeds he deigns to mention,Hismemorystill is no whit better grown;But then he makes up for it, all will own,By a prodigious talent ofinvention.

First published inMorning Post, Oct. 11, 1802.

Good Candle, thou that with thy brother, Fire,Art my best friend and comforter at night,Just snuff'd, thou look'st as if thou didst desireThat I on thee an epigram should write.[970]Dear Candle, burnt down to a finger-joint,Thy own flame is an epigram of sight;'Tisshort, andpointed, andall overlight,Yet givesmostlight and burns the keenest at the point.

Good Candle, thou that with thy brother, Fire,Art my best friend and comforter at night,Just snuff'd, thou look'st as if thou didst desireThat I on thee an epigram should write.

[970]Dear Candle, burnt down to a finger-joint,Thy own flame is an epigram of sight;'Tisshort, andpointed, andall overlight,Yet givesmostlight and burns the keenest at the point.

Valete et Plaudite.

First published inMorning Post, Oct. 11, 1802.

Here sleeps at length poor Col., and without screaming—Who died as he had always lived, a-dreaming:Shot dead, while sleeping, by the Gout within—Alone, and all unknown, at E'nbro' in an Inn.

'Composed in my sleep for myself while dreaming that I was dying' . . . at the Black Bull, Edinburgh, Tuesday, Sept. 13, 1803. Sent in a letter to Thomas Wedgwood, Sept. 16, 1803. First published Cottle'sReminiscences, 1848, p. 467. First collected in 1893.

Some whim or fancy pleases every eye;For talents premature 'tis now the rage:In Music how great Handel would have smil'dT' have seen what crowds are raptur'd with a child!A Garrick we have had in little Betty—And now we're told we have a Pitt in Petty!All must allow, since thus it is decreed,He is a verypettyPitt indeed!

? 1806.

First printed (from an autograph MS.) by Mr. Bertram Dobell in theAthenæum, Jan. 9, 1904. Now collected for the first time.

Britannia's boast, her glory and her pride,Pitt in his Country's service lived and died:At length resolv'd, like Pitt had done, to do,For once to serve his Country, Fox died too!

First published by Mr. B. Dobell in theAthenæum, Jan. 6, 1904. Thisepigram belongs to the same MS. source as the preceding, 'On the Taste of the Times,' and may have been the composition of S. T. C.

InFugitive Pieces(1806) (seeP. W., 1898, i. 34) Byron published a reply 'for insertion in theMorning Chronicleto the following illiberal impromptu on the death of Mr. Fox, which appeared in theMorning Post[Sept. 26, 1806]:—

"Our Nation's Foes lament on Fox's death,But bless the hour when Pitt resigned his breath:These feelings wide let Sense and Truth unclue,We give the palm where Justice points its due."'

I have little doubt that this 'illiberal impromptu' was published by S. T. C., who had just returned from Italy and was once more writing for the press. It is possible that he veiled his initials in the line, 'Let Sense and Truth unClue.'

An excellent adage commands that we shouldRelate of the dead that alone which is good;But of the great Lord who here lies in leadWe know nothing good but that he is dead.

First published inThe Friend, No. 12, Nov. 9, 1809. Included inEssays, &c., iii. 986. First collected inP. and D. W., 1877, ii. 178.

χρυσὸν ἀνὴρ εὑρὼν ἔλιπε βρόχον, αὐτὰρ ὁ χρυσὸνὅν λίπεν οὐχ εὑρὼν ἧψεν ὅν εὗρε βρόχον.Jack finding gold left a rope on the ground:Bill missing his gold used the rope which he found.

χρυσὸν ἀνὴρ εὑρὼν ἔλιπε βρόχον, αὐτὰρ ὁ χρυσὸνὅν λίπεν οὐχ εὑρὼν ἧψεν ὅν εὗρε βρόχον.

Jack finding gold left a rope on the ground:Bill missing his gold used the rope which he found.

First published inOmniana, 1812, ii. 123. First collected inP. and D. W.1877, ii. 374.

'She's secret as the grave, allow!''I do; I cannot doubt it.But 'tis a grave with tombstone on,That tells you all about it.'

First published inThe Courier, Jan. 3, 1814. Included inEssays, &c., iii. 986. Now collected for the first time.

We've fought for Peace, and conquer'd it at last,The rav'ning vulture's leg seems fetter'd fast!Britons, rejoice! and yet be wary too:The chain may break, the clipt wing sprout anew.

First published in Cottle'sEarly Recollections, 1836, ii. 145. First collected 1890.

We've conquered us a Peace, like lads true metalled:And BankruptNap'saccounts seem all now settled.

Ibid.ii. 145. First collected 1893.

Money, I've heard a wise man say,Makes herself wings and flies away—Ah! would she take it in her headTo make a pair for me instead.

First published (from an MS.) in 1893.

No private grudge they need, no personal spite,Theviva sectiois its own delight!All enmity, all envy, they disclaim,Disinterested thieves of our good name—Cool, sober murderers of their neighbours' fame!

First published inBiog. Lit., 1817, ii. 118. First collected inP. W., 1885, ii. 363.

Parry seeks the Polar ridge,Rhymes seeks S. T. Coleridge,Author of Works, whereof—tho' not in Dutch—The public little knows—the publisher too much.

First published in 1834.

On nothing, Fanny, shall I write?Shall I not one charm of thee indite?The Muse is most unruly,And vows to sing of what's more free,More soft, more beautiful than thee;—And that isNothing, truly!

First published in theGazette of Fashion, Feb. 22, 1822. Reprinted (by Mr. Bertram Dobell) inN. and Q., 10th Series, vol. vi, p. 145. Now collected for the first time.

The rose that blushes like the morn,Bedecks the valleys low;And so dost thou, sweet infant corn,My Angelina's toe.But on the rose there grows a thornThat breeds disastrous woe;And so dost thou, remorseless corn,On Angelina's toe.

The rose that blushes like the morn,Bedecks the valleys low;And so dost thou, sweet infant corn,My Angelina's toe.

But on the rose there grows a thornThat breeds disastrous woe;And so dost thou, remorseless corn,On Angelina's toe.

First published inLit. Rem., i. 59. First collectedP. and D. W., 1877, ii. 366.

So Mr. Baker heart did pluck—And did a-courting go!And Mr. Baker is a buck;For why? heneedsthedoe.

First published inLetters, Conversations, &c., 1836, ii. 21. First collected inP. and D. W., 1877, ii. 373.

'A heavy wit shall hang at every lord,'So sung Dan Pope; but 'pon my word,He was a story-teller,Or else the times have altered quite;For wits, or heavy, now, or lightHang each by a bookseller.

S. T. C.

First published inNews of Literature, Dec. 10, 1825. SeeArch. Constable and his Literary Correspondents, 1873, iii. 482. First collected in 1893.

This way or that, ye Powers above me!I of my grief were rid—Did Enna either really love me,Or cease to think she did.

First published inLit. Rem., i. 59. Included inEssays, &c., iii. 987. First collected inP. W., 1885, ii. 364.

In Spain, that land of Monks and Apes,The thing called Wine doth come from grapes,But on the noble River Rhine,The thing called Gripes doth come from Wine!

First published inMemoirs of C. M. Young, 1871, p. 221. First collected in 1893.

Now! It is gone—Our brief hours travel post,Each with its thought or deed, its Why or How:—But know, each parting hour gives up a ghostTo dwell within thee—an eternal Now!

First published inLit. Rem., i. 60. First collected in 1844.

Tom Hill, who laughs at Cares and Woes,As nauci—nili—pili—What ishelike, as I suppose?Why, to be sure, a Rose—a Rose.At least, no soul that Tom Hill knowsCould e'er recall aLi-ly.

Now first published from an MS.

Nothing speaks our mind so wellAs to speak Nothing. Come then, tellThy Mind in Tears, whoe'er thou beThat ow'st a name to Misery:None canfluencydenyTo Tears, the Language of the Eye.

Now first published from an MS. in the British Museum.

A Lutheran stout, I hold for Goose-and-GaundryBoth the Pope's Limbo and his fiery Laundry:No wit e'er saw I in Original Sin,And no Sin find I in Original Wit;But if I'm all in the wrong, and, Grin for Grin,Scorch'd Souls must pay for each too lucky hit,—Oh, Fuller! much I fear, so vast thy debt,Thou art not out of Purgatory yet;Tho' one, eight, three and three this year is reckon'd,And thou, I think, didst diesubCharles the Second.

Nov. 28, 1833.

Now first published from an MS.

[951:1]A great, perhaps the greater, number of Coleridge's Epigrams are adaptations from the German of Wernicke, Lessing, and other less known epigrammatists. They were sent to theMorning Postand other periodicals to supply the needs of the moment, and with the rarest exceptions they were deliberately excluded from the collected editions of his poetical works which received his own sanction, and were published in his lifetime. Collected for the first time by Mrs. H. N. Coleridge and reprinted in the third volume ofEssays on His Own Times(1850), they have been included, with additions and omissions, inP. and D. W., 1877-1880,P. W., 1885,P. W., 1890, and the Illustrated Edition of Coleridge'sPoems, issued in 1907. The adaptations from the German were written and first published between 1799 and 1802. Of the earlier and later epigrams the greater number are original. Four epigrams were published anonymously inThe Watchman, in April, 1796. Seventeen epigrams, of which twelve are by Coleridge, two by Southey, and three by Tobin, were published anonymously in theAnnual Anthologyof 1800. Between January 2, 1798, and October 11, 1802 Coleridge contributed at least thirty-eight epigrams to theMorning Post. Most of these epigrams appeared under the well-known signatureΕΣΤΗΣΕ. Six epigrams, of which five had been published in theMorning Post, were included inThe Friend(No. 11, Oct. 26, 1809). Finally, Coleridge contributed six epigrams to theKeepsake, of which four had been published in theMorning Post, and one in theAnnual Anthology. Epigrams were altogether excluded fromSibylline Leavesand from the three-volume editions of 1828 and 1829; but in 1834 the rule was relaxed and six epigrams were allowed to appear. Two of these,In An Album('Parry seeks the Polar Ridge') andOn an Insignificant(''Tis Cypher lies beneath this Crust') were published for the first time.For the discovery of the German originals of some twenty epigrams, now for the first time noted and verified, I am indebted to the generous assistance of Dr. Hermann Georg Fiedler, Taylorian Professor of the German Language and Literature at Oxford, and of my friend Miss Katharine Schlesinger.

For the discovery of the German originals of some twenty epigrams, now for the first time noted and verified, I am indebted to the generous assistance of Dr. Hermann Georg Fiedler, Taylorian Professor of the German Language and Literature at Oxford, and of my friend Miss Katharine Schlesinger.

[953:1]N.B. Bad in itself, and, as Bob Allen used to say of his puns, looks damned ugly upon paper.

[954:1]Lines 3, 4, with the heading 'On an Insignificant,' were written by S. T. C. in Southey's copy of theOmnianaof 1812 [see nos. 9, 11]. SeeP. W., 1885, ii. 402,Note.

[961:1]The antithesis was, perhaps, borrowed from an Epigram entitled 'Posthumous Fame', included inElegant Extracts, ii. 260.If on his spacious marble we rely,Pity a worth like his should ever die!If credit to his real life we give,Pity a wretch like him should ever live.

[961:1]The antithesis was, perhaps, borrowed from an Epigram entitled 'Posthumous Fame', included inElegant Extracts, ii. 260.

If on his spacious marble we rely,Pity a worth like his should ever die!If credit to his real life we give,Pity a wretch like him should ever live.

[962:1]The first and second versions are included inEssays, &c., 1850, iii. 976: the third version was first published in 1893.In 1830 Coleridge re-wrote (he did not publish) the second version as an Epitaph on Hazlitt. The following apologetic note was affixed:—'With a sadness at heart, and an earnest hope grounded on his misanthropic sadness, when I first knew him in his twentieth or twenty-first year, that a something existed in his bodily organism that in the sight of the All-Merciful lessened his responsibility, and the moral imputation of his acts and feelings.'MS.

[962:1]The first and second versions are included inEssays, &c., 1850, iii. 976: the third version was first published in 1893.

In 1830 Coleridge re-wrote (he did not publish) the second version as an Epitaph on Hazlitt. The following apologetic note was affixed:—

'With a sadness at heart, and an earnest hope grounded on his misanthropic sadness, when I first knew him in his twentieth or twenty-first year, that a something existed in his bodily organism that in the sight of the All-Merciful lessened his responsibility, and the moral imputation of his acts and feelings.'MS.

[964:1]The 'One who published' was, perhaps, Charles Lloyd, in his novel,Edmund Oliver, 2 vols. 1798. Compare the following Epigram of Prior's:—To John I ow'd great obligation,But John unhappily thought fitTo publish it to all the nation:Sure John and I are more than quit.

[964:1]The 'One who published' was, perhaps, Charles Lloyd, in his novel,Edmund Oliver, 2 vols. 1798. Compare the following Epigram of Prior's:—

To John I ow'd great obligation,But John unhappily thought fitTo publish it to all the nation:Sure John and I are more than quit.

[974:1]Extempore, in reply to a question of Mr. Theodore Hook's—'Look at him, and say what you think: Is not he like a Rose?'

So great the charms of Mrs. Mundy,That men grew rude, a kiss to gain:This so provok'd the dame that one dayTo Pallas chaste she did complain:Nor vainly she address'd her prayer,Nor vainly to that power applied;The goddess bade a length of hairIn deep recess her muzzle hide:Still persevere! to love be callous!For I have your petition heard!To snatch a kiss were vain (cried Pallas)Unless you first should shave your beard.

So great the charms of Mrs. Mundy,That men grew rude, a kiss to gain:This so provok'd the dame that one dayTo Pallas chaste she did complain:

Nor vainly she address'd her prayer,Nor vainly to that power applied;The goddess bade a length of hairIn deep recess her muzzle hide:

Still persevere! to love be callous!For I have your petition heard!To snatch a kiss were vain (cried Pallas)Unless you first should shave your beard.

? 1791

First published inTable Talk and Omniana, 1888, p. 392. The lines were inscribed by Coleridge in Gillman's copy of theOmnianaof 1812. An apologetic note is attached. J. P. Collier (Old Man's Diary, 1871, March 5, 1832, Part I, p. 34) says that Coleridge 'recited the following not very good epigram by him on his godmother's beard; the consequence of which was that he was struck out of her will'. Most probably the lines, as inscribed on the margin ofOmniana, were written about 1830 or 1831. First collected inColeridge's Poems, 1907.

[4]Pallas chaste] Wisdom's PowerS. T. C.

Pallas chaste] Wisdom's PowerS. T. C.

[Quoted in a letter from Coleridge to John Thelwall, dated Dec. 17, 1796.]

. . . . Joking apart, I would to God we could sit by a fire-side and jokevivâ voce, face to face—Stella [Mrs. Thelwall] and Sara [Mrs. S. T. Coleridge], Jack Thelwall and I!—as I once wrote to my dearfriendT. Poole,—

[977]RepeatingSuch verse as Bowles, heart honour'd Poet sang,That wakes the Tear, yet steals away the Pang,Then, or with Berkeley, or with Hobbes romance it,Dissecting Truth with metaphysic lancet.Or, drawn from up these dark unfathom'd wells,In wiser folly chink the Cap and Bells.How many tales we told! what jokes we made,Conundrum, Crambo, Rebus, or Charade;Ænigmas that had driven the Theban mad,And Puns, these best when exquisitely bad;And I, if aught of archer vein I hit,With my own laughter stifled my own wit.

1796. First published in 1893.

O ——! O ——! of you we complainFor exposing those ears to the wind and the rain.Thy face, a huge whitlow just come to a head,Ill agrees with those ears so raw and so red.A Musical Critic of old fell a-poutingWhen he saw how his asinine honours were sprouting;But he hid 'em quite snug, in a full friz of hair,And the Barber alone smoked his donkeys [so] rare.Thy judgment much worse, and thyperkersas ample,O give heed to King Midas, and take his example.Thus topublishyour fate is as useless as wrong—You but prove by your ears, what we guessed from your tongue.

O ——! O ——! of you we complainFor exposing those ears to the wind and the rain.Thy face, a huge whitlow just come to a head,Ill agrees with those ears so raw and so red.

A Musical Critic of old fell a-poutingWhen he saw how his asinine honours were sprouting;But he hid 'em quite snug, in a full friz of hair,And the Barber alone smoked his donkeys [so] rare.

Thy judgment much worse, and thyperkersas ample,O give heed to King Midas, and take his example.Thus topublishyour fate is as useless as wrong—You but prove by your ears, what we guessed from your tongue.

Laberius.

First published in theMorning Post, January 4, 1798. First collectedP. and D. W., 1877-80, ii. 370.

Plucking flowers from the GalaxyOn the pinions of Abstraction,I did quite forget to ax 'e,Whether you have an objaction,With us to swill 'e and to swell 'eAnd make a pig-stie of your belly.A lovely limb most daintyOf aci-devantMud-raker,I makes bold to acquaint 'eWe've trusted to the Baker:And underneath it satisOf the subterrene appleBy the erudite 'clep'dtaties—With which, if you'ld wish to grapple,As sure as I'm a sloven,The clock will not strike twice one,When the said dish will be out of the oven,And the dinner will be a nice one.P.S.Besides we've got some cabbage.You Jew-dog, if you linger,May the Itch in pomp of scabbagePop out between each finger.

January, 1797.

First published (minusthe postscript) inThomas Poole and His Friends, 1888, i. 211.

A.Ye drinkers of Stingo and Nappy so free,Are the Gods on Olympus so happy as we?B.They cannot be so happy!For why? they drink no Nappy.[979]A.But what if Nectar, in their lingo,Is but another name for Stingo?B.Why, then we and the Gods are equally blest,And Olympus an Ale-house as good as the best!

Ye drinkers of Stingo and Nappy so free,Are the Gods on Olympus so happy as we?

They cannot be so happy!For why? they drink no Nappy.

[979]A.

But what if Nectar, in their lingo,Is but another name for Stingo?

Why, then we and the Gods are equally blest,And Olympus an Ale-house as good as the best!

First published inMorning Post, September 18, 1801. Included inEssays, &c., iii. 995-6. First collectedP. and D. W., 1877, ii. 167.

My Merry men all, that drink with gleeThis fanciful Philosophy,Pray tell me what good is it?Ifantient Nickshould come and take,The same across the Stygian Lake,I guess we ne'er should miss it.Away, each pale, self-brooding sparkThat goes truth-hunting in the dark,Away from our carousing!To Pallas we resign such fowls—Grave birds of wisdom! ye're but owls,And all your trade butmousing!My merry men all, here's punch and wine,And spicy bishop, drink divine!Let's live while we are able.While Mirth and Sense sit, hand in glove,This Don Philosophy we'll shoveDead drunk beneath the table!

My Merry men all, that drink with gleeThis fanciful Philosophy,Pray tell me what good is it?Ifantient Nickshould come and take,The same across the Stygian Lake,I guess we ne'er should miss it.

Away, each pale, self-brooding sparkThat goes truth-hunting in the dark,Away from our carousing!To Pallas we resign such fowls—Grave birds of wisdom! ye're but owls,And all your trade butmousing!

My merry men all, here's punch and wine,And spicy bishop, drink divine!Let's live while we are able.While Mirth and Sense sit, hand in glove,This Don Philosophy we'll shoveDead drunk beneath the table!

First published inMorning Post, September 25, 1801. Included inEssays, &c., iii. 966-7. First collectedP. and D. W., 1877, ii. 168.

Vix ea nostra voco

Lunatic Witch-fires! Ghosts of Light and Motion!Fearless I see you weave your wanton dancesNear me, far off me; you, that tempt the travellerOnward and onward.[980]Wooing, retreating, till the swamp beneath himGroans—and 'tis dark!—This woman's wile—I know it!Learnt it fromthee, fromthyperfidious glances!Black-ey'd Rebecca!

Lunatic Witch-fires! Ghosts of Light and Motion!Fearless I see you weave your wanton dancesNear me, far off me; you, that tempt the travellerOnward and onward.

[980]Wooing, retreating, till the swamp beneath himGroans—and 'tis dark!—This woman's wile—I know it!Learnt it fromthee, fromthyperfidious glances!Black-ey'd Rebecca!

First published inMorning Post, December 1, 1801. First collectedP. and D. W., 1877, ii. 169.

When the squalls were flitting and fleeringAnd the vessel was tacking and veering;Bravo! Captain Findlay,Who foretold a fair windOf a constant mind;For he knew which way the wind lay,Bravo! Captain Findlay.A Health to Captain Findlay,Bravo! Captain Findlay!When we made but ill speed with the Speedwell,Neither poets nor sheep could feed well:Now grief rotted the Liver,Yet Malta, dear Malta, as far off as ever!Bravo! Captain Findlay,Foretold a fair wind,Of a constant mind,For he knew which way the wind lay!

A Health to Captain Findlay,Bravo! Captain Findlay!When we made but ill speed with the Speedwell,Neither poets nor sheep could feed well:Now grief rotted the Liver,Yet Malta, dear Malta, as far off as ever!

Bravo! Captain Findlay,Foretold a fair wind,Of a constant mind,For he knew which way the wind lay!

May 4, 1804.

Now first published from a Notebook. The rhymes are inserted between the following entries:—'Thursday night—Wind chopped about and about, once fairly to the west, for a minute or two—but now, 1/2 past 9, the Captain comes down and promises a fair wind for to-morrow. We shall see.' 'Well, and we have got a wind the right way at last!'

Be proud as Spaniards! Leap for pride ye Fleas!Henceforth in Nature's mimic World grandees.In Phœbus' archives registered are ye,And this your patent of Nobility.No skip-Jacks now, nor civiller skip-Johns,Dread Anthropophagi! specks of living bronze,[981]I hail you one and all, sans Pros or Cons,Descendants from a noble race of Dons.What tho' that great ancestral Flea be gone,Immortal with immortalising Donne,His earthly spots bleached off a Papist's gloze,In purgatory fire on Bardolph's nose.

1811.

Now first published from an MS.

This, Hannah Scollock! may have been the case;Your writing therefore I will not erase.But now this Book, once yours, belongs to me,TheMorning Post'sandCourier'sS. T. C.;—Elsewhere in College, knowledge, wit and scholarageTo Friends and Public known as S. T. Coleridge.Witness hereto my hand, on Ashley Green,One thousand, twice four hundred, and fourteenYear of our Lord—and of the month NovemberThe fifteenth day, if right I do remember.

15th Nov. 1814. Ashley, Box, Bath.

First published inLit. Rem., iii. 57. First collectedP. and D. W., 1877, ii. 387.

The following burlesque on the Fichtean Egoismus may, perhaps, be amusing to the few who have studied the system, and to those who are unacquainted with it, may convey as tolerable a likeness of Fichte's idealism as can be expected from an avowed caricature. [S. T. C.]

The Categorical Imperative, or the annunciation of the New Teutonic God,ΕΓΩΕΝΚΑΙΠΑΝ: a dithyrambic Ode, byQuerkopf Von Klubstick, Grammarian, and Subrector in Gymnasio. . . .

Eu! Dei vices gerens, ipse Divus,(Speak English, Friend!) the God Imperativus,Here on this market-cross aloud I cry:'I, I, I! I itself I![982]The form and the substance, the what and the why,The when and the where, and the low and the high,The inside and outside, the earth and the sky,I, you, and he, and he, you and I,All souls and all bodies are I itself I!All I itself I!(Fools! a truce with this starting!)All my I! all my I!He's a heretic dog who but adds Betty Martin!'Thus cried the God with high imperial tone:In robe of stiffest state, that scoff'd at beauty,A pronoun-verb imperative he shone—Then substantive and plural-singular grown,He thus spake on:—'Behold in I alone(For Ethics boast a syntax of their own)Or if in ye, yet as I doth depute ye,In O! I, you, the vocative of duty!I of the world's whole Lexicon the root!Of the whole universe of touch, sound, sight,The genitive and ablative to boot:The accusative of wrong, the nom'native of right,And in all cases the case absolute!Self-construed, I all other moods decline:Imperative, from nothing we derive us;Yet as a super-postulate of mine,Unconstrued antecedence I assign,To X Y Z, the God Infinitivus!'

1815.

First published inBiographia Literaria, 1817, i. 148n.First collectedP. and D. W., 1877, ii. 370.

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