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<title type="main">The Collected Letters of Robert Southey. Part 1: 1791-1797 </title>
<title type="subordinate">A Romantic Circles Electronic Edition</title>
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<name>Southey, Robert, 1774-1843</name>
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<idno type="nines">rce127</idno>
<idno type="edition">letterEEd.26.127</idno>
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<p>.  Previously  published: Kenneth
                        Curry (ed.), New Letters of Robert Southey, 2 vols
                        (London and New York, 1965), I, pp. 95–96 [in part; verses not reproduced;
                        where it is dated 12 May 1795].</p>
<p>These letters were edited with the assistance of Carol Bolton, Tim Fulford and Ian Packer</p>
<p>For permission to publish the text of MSS in their possession, the editor wishes to thank the Beinecke Rare
											Books and Manuscript Library, Yale University; Berg Collection of English and American Literature, The New
											York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations; the Bodleian Library Oxford University; the
											British Library; Boston Public Library; the Syndics of Cambridge University Library; the Syndics of the
											Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge; Haverford College, Connecticut; the Historical Society of Pennsylvania; the
											Hornby Library, Liverpool Libraries and Information Services; the Houghton Library, Harvard University;
											the John Rylands Library, Manchester; the Kenneth Spencer Research Library, University of Kansas; Luton
											Museum (Bedfordshire County Council); Massachusetts Historical Society; McGill University Library; the
											National Library of Scotland; the Newberry Library, Chicago; the New York Public Library (Pforzheimer
											Collections); the Pierpont Morgan Library, New York; the Public Record Offices of Bedford, Suffolk (Bury
											St Edmunds) and Northumberland, the Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge; the Society of
											Antiquaries of Newcastle upon Tyne; the Trustees of the William Salt Library, Stafford, the Wisbech and
											Fenland Museum; the University of Virginia Library.</p>
<p>A research grant from the British Academy made much of the archival work possible, as did support from the
											English Department of Nottingham Trent University.</p>
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<div n="127" type="letter">
<head>127. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor Charles Bedford</ref>, <date when="1795-05-12">[possibly started
                        before and continued on 12 May 1795]</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address: Grosvenor Charles Bedford Esq<hi rend="sup">r</hi>/
                        New Palace Yard/ Westminster./ Single<lb/>Stamped: BRISTOL<lb/>Postmark:
                        [illegible]<lb/>Watermark: G R in a circle with Britannia<lb/>Endorsement:
                            Rec<hi rend="sup">d</hi>. May 14<hi rend="sup">th</hi>/ 1795<lb/>MS:
                        Bodleian Library, MS Eng. Lett. c. 22<lb/>Previously published: Kenneth
                        Curry (ed.), <title level="m">New Letters of Robert Southey</title>, 2 vols
                        (London and New York, 1965), I, pp. 95–96 [in part; verses not reproduced;
                        where it is dated 12 May 1795].</note>
</head>
<p rend="indent5">ELINOR.<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">The poem had been
                        published anonymously in the <title level="j">Morning Chronicle</title> on
                        18 September 1794. A revised version appeared in Southey’s <title level="m">Poems</title> (1797).</note>
</p>
<p rend="indent5"> a Monologue.</p>
<p rend="indent2"> Scene the shores of New Holland. Morning.</p>
<p rend="indent5"> ———</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Once more to daily toil! once more to wear</l>
<l rend="indent2">The weeds of Infamy — from every joy</l>
<l rend="indent2">The heart could feel, excluded, I arise</l>
<l rend="indent2">Worn out &amp; faint with unremitting woe.</l>
<l rend="indent2">And once again with wearied steps I trace</l>
<l rend="indent2">The hollow-sounding shore. the full swoln
                        &lt;waves&gt;</l>
<l rend="indent2">Gleam to the morning sun &amp; dazzle oer</l>
<l rend="indent2">With many a splendid hue the breezy strand.</l>
<l rend="indent2">Oh there was once a time, when Elinor</l>
<l rend="indent2">Gazed on thine opening beam with joyous eye</l>
<l rend="indent2">Undimmd by guilt &amp; grief! when her full soul</l>
<l rend="indent2">Felt thy mild radiance, &amp; the rising day</l>
<l rend="indent2">Waked but to pleasure. on thy sea-girt verge</l>
<l rend="indent2">Oft England! have my evening steps stole on</l>
<l rend="indent2">Oft have mine eyes surveyed the blue expanse,</l>
<l rend="indent2">And markd the wild wind swell the ruffled surge</l>
<l rend="indent2">And seen the upheaved billows bosomed rage</l>
<l rend="indent2">Rush on the rock; &amp; then my timid soul</l>
<l rend="indent2">Shrunk at the perils of the boundless deep</l>
<l rend="indent2">And heaved a sigh for suffering mariners.</l>
<l rend="indent2">Ah! little deeming I myself was doomed</l>
<l rend="indent2">To tempt the perils of the boundless deep</l>
<l rend="indent2">An Outcast! unbelovd &amp; unbewaild!</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Why stern Remembrance must thy iron hand</l>
<l rend="indent2">Harrow my soul? why calls thy cruel power</l>
<l rend="indent2">The fields of England to my exiled eyes</l>
<l rend="indent2">The joys which once were mine? even now I see</l>
<l rend="indent2">The lowly lovely dwelling! even now</l>
<l rend="indent2">Behold the woodbine clasping its white walls,</l>
<l rend="indent2">And hear the fearless redbreasts chirp around</l>
<l rend="indent2">To ask their morning meal; for I was wont</l>
<l rend="indent2">With friendly hand to give their morning meal</l>
<l rend="indent2">Was wont to love their song, when lingering
                        &lt;morn&gt;</l>
<l rend="indent2">Streakd over the chilly landskip the dim light</l>
<l rend="indent2">And thro the opened lattice hung my head</l>
<l rend="indent2">To view the snow-drops bud. &amp; thence at eve,</l>
<l rend="indent2">When mildly-fading sunk the summer sun,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Oft have I loved to mark the rooks slow course</l>
<l rend="indent2">And hear his hollow croak, what time he sought</l>
<l rend="indent2">The church-yard elm whose wide-embowering boughs</l>
<l rend="indent2">Full-foliagd, half conceald the house of God.</l>
<l rend="indent2">There my dead father! often have I heard</l>
<l rend="indent2">Thy hallowed voice explain the wonderous works</l>
<l rend="indent2">Of Heaven to sinful man. ah! little deemd</l>
<l rend="indent2">Thy virtuous bosom that thy shameless child</l>
<l rend="indent2">So soon should spurn the lesson! — sink the Slave</l>
<l rend="indent2">Of Vice &amp; Infamy! the hireling prey</l>
<l rend="indent2">Of brutal appetite! at length worn out</l>
<l rend="indent2">With famine &amp; the avenging scourge of guilt</l>
<l rend="indent2">Should dare dishonesty — yet dread to die!</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Welcome ye savage lands — ye barbarous climes</l>
<l rend="indent2">Where angry England sends her outcast sons,</l>
<l rend="indent2">I hail your joyless shores! my weary bark</l>
<l rend="indent2">Long tempest-tost on Lifes inclement sea</l>
<l rend="indent2">Here hails her haven welcomes the drear scene</l>
<l rend="indent2">The marshy plain, the briar-entangled wood</l>
<l rend="indent2">And all the perils of a world unknown.</l>
<l rend="indent2">For Elinor has nothing new to fear</l>
<l rend="indent2">From fickle Fortune! all her rankling shafts</l>
<l rend="indent2">Barbd with disgrace &amp; venomed with disease</l>
<l rend="indent2">Have pierced my bosom — &amp; the dart of death</l>
<l rend="indent2">Has lost its terrors to a wretch like me.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Welcome ye marshy heaths — ye pathless woods</l>
<l rend="indent2">Where the rude native rests his wearied frame</l>
<l rend="indent2">Beneath the sheltering shade. where when the storm</l>
<l rend="indent2">As rough &amp; bleak it rolls along the sky</l>
<l rend="indent2">Benumbs his naked limbs, he flies to seek</l>
<l rend="indent2">The dripping shelter. welcome ye wild plains</l>
<l rend="indent2">Unbroken by the plough, undelved by hand</l>
<l rend="indent2">Of patient rustic, where for lowing herds</l>
<l rend="indent2">And for the music of the bleating flocks</l>
<l rend="indent2">Alone is heard the Kangaroos sad note</l>
<l rend="indent2">Deepening in distance. welcome ye rude clime</l>
<l rend="indent2">The realm of Nature! for as yet unknown</l>
<l rend="indent2">The crimes &amp; comfrots of luxurious life,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Nature benignly gives to all enough,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Denies to all a superfluity.</l>
<l rend="indent2">What tho the garb of Infamy I wear</l>
<l rend="indent2">Tho day by day along the echoing beach</l>
<l rend="indent2">I cull the wave-worn shells — yet day by day</l>
<l rend="indent2">I earn in honesty the frugal food</l>
<l rend="indent2">And lay me down at night to calm repose.</l>
<l rend="indent2">No more condemned the mercenary tool</l>
<l rend="indent2">Of brutal Lust — whilst heaves the indignant
                        &lt;heart&gt;</l>
<l rend="indent2">With Virtues stifled sigh — to fold my arms</l>
<l rend="indent2">Round the rank felon, &amp; for daily bread</l>
<l rend="indent2">To hug contagion to my poisoned breast —</l>
<l rend="indent2">On these wild shores Repentance savior hand</l>
<l rend="indent2">Shall probe my secret soul shall cleanse its
                        &lt;wounds&gt;</l>
<l rend="indent2">And fit the faithful penitent for heaven.</l>
</lg>
<p rend="indent5"> ————</p>
<lb/>
<p rend="indent4">Ode to a Frog<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">A revised
                        version appeared in the <title level="j">Monthly Magazine</title>, 2
                        (October 1796), 731–732.</note>
</p>
<p rend="indent5"> 1</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Poor being! wherefore dost thou fly</l>
<l rend="indent2">Why seek to shun my gazing eye</l>
<l rend="indent3"> And palpitate with fear?</l>
<l rend="indent2">Indulge a passing travellers sight</l>
<l rend="indent2">And leap not on in vain affright —</l>
<l rend="indent3"> No cruel foe is here.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<p rend="indent5"> 2</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">I would but pause awhile to view</l>
<l rend="indent2">Thy dappled coat of many a hue</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Thy rapid bound survey,</l>
<l rend="indent2">And see how well thy limbs can glide</l>
<l rend="indent2">Along the sedge-crownd streamlets tide,</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Then journey on my way.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<p rend="indent5"> 3</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">No savage sage am I whose power</l>
<l rend="indent2">Shall bear thee from thy rush-wove bower</l>
<l rend="indent3"> To feel the unsparing knife;</l>
<l rend="indent2">No barbarous schemes this hand shall try,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Nor to prolong thy death would I</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Prolong thy little life.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<p rend="indent5"> 4</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Ah let not him, whose wanton skill</l>
<l rend="indent2">Delights the mangled frog to kill</l>
<l rend="indent3"> The meed of praise attain!</l>
<l rend="indent2">Philosophy abhors the heart</l>
<l rend="indent2">That prostitutes her sacred art</l>
<l rend="indent3"> To give one being pain.<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Once more … pain: Verses written in double
                            columns.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p rend="indent4"> ————</p>
<p>Did you ever see the cruel experiments tried upon frogs to discover the cause of
                    muscular motion?</p>
<p rend="indent4">Sonnet.<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">A revised version
                        was published in Samuel Taylor Coleridge, <title level="m">Poems on Various
                            Subjects</title> (1796).</note> the 6 last lines by</p>
<p rend="indent11">
<ref target="people.html#ColeridgeSamuelTaylor">Coleridge</ref>.</p>
<p rend="indent6"> ———</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Poor Wanderer of the Night! thou pale forlorn!</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Remorse that man on his death-bed possess,</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Who in the hour of credulous tenderness</l>
<l rend="indent2">Betrayed &amp; left thee to the hard worlds scorn.</l>
<l rend="indent2">The hard world scoffs thy woes! the chaste Ones pride</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Mimic of virtue mocks thy keen distress.</l>
<l rend="indent2">Thy Loves &amp; they that envied thee, deride,</l>
<l rend="indent3"> And Vice alone will shelter Wretchedness —</l>
<l rend="indent2">Oh I am sad to think — that there should be</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Cold-bosomed lewd Ones who endure to place</l>
<l rend="indent2">Foul offerings at the shrine of Misery.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Forcing from Famines arms the embrace of Love —</l>
<l rend="indent3"> May he shed healing on thy sore disgrace</l>
<l rend="indent3"> He, the great Comforter who rules above.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<p rend="indent5">Sonnet.<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">A revised version
                        appeared in Southey’s <title level="m">Poems</title> (1797).</note>
</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Fair is the rising morn when oer the sky</l>
<l rend="indent3"> The orient sun expands his roseate ray,</l>
<l rend="indent2">And lovely to the Bards enthusiasts eye</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Fades the meek radiance of departing day.</l>
<l rend="indent2">But fairer is the smile of one we love</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Than all the scenes in Natures amply sway</l>
<l rend="indent2">And sweeter than the music of the grove</l>
<l rend="indent2">The Voice that bids us welcome. such delight</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Were ours my <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Edith</ref>, on the distant shore</l>
<l rend="indent3"> When all the labors of the day were oer</l>
<l rend="indent2">If thou shouldst smile a welcome. at thy sight</l>
<l rend="indent2">My heart would bound to rapture! far removed</l>
<l rend="indent3"> To woodland scenes where Care intrudes no
                        &lt;more,&gt;</l>
<l rend="indent2">We should be blest beloving &amp; beloved.<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">Fair is … beloved: Verses written in double
                            columns.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p rend="indent5"> ———</p>
<p rend="indent4">The Soldier’s Wife<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">A
                        revised version appeared in Southey’s <title level="m">Poems</title>
                        (1797).</note>
</p>
<p rend="indent1"> (written with <ref target="people.html#ColeridgeSamuelTaylor">Coleridge</ref>. &lt;read this aloud &amp; accent it&gt;</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Weàry way-wànderer ׀ lànguid &amp; sìck at heart</l>
<l rend="indent2">Tràvelling paìnfully ׀ over the rùgged road,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Wìld-visagd Wànderer ׀ àh for thy heàvy chance!</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Sorèly thy little one dràgs by thee bàre-footed</l>
<l rend="indent2">But àh for the bàby that hàngs at thy bènding back</l>
<l rend="indent2">Meàgre &amp; livìd &amp; screàming its
                        wrètchedness.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Woè-begone mòther half ànger half àgony,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Ovèr thy shoùlders thou tùrnest to hùsh the babe</l>
<l rend="indent2">Bleàkly the blinding snow drìfts in thy hàgged cheek.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Thy hùsband will nèver retùrn for the wàr again</l>
<l rend="indent2">Còld is thy hòpeless heart — even as Chàrity</l>
<l rend="indent2">Còld are thy fàmishd babes — Gòd help thee wìdowed One!</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<p rend="indent1"> There my dear <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor</ref>. for RS returning at eleven o’clock — find your letter
                    &amp; immediately write thus much — you will allow no small miracle. now my
                    eyes ache &amp; I must to bed — by the by before I bid you good night take
                    these lines which tickle me hugely</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Despairing beside a clear stream</l>
<l rend="indent3"> An elderly Gentleman sat,</l>
<l rend="indent2">A willow supported his wig</l>
<l rend="indent3"> And over his wig was his hat.</l>
</lg>
<p>Good night my dear <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor</ref>. I will to my worst companion — the pillow! heigh ho! — God
                    bless you. </p>
<p rend="right">
<date when="1795-05-12">Tuesday night.</date>
<address>
<placeName>
<ref target="places.html#CollegeStBristol">Bristol College Street. No 25</ref>
</placeName>
</address>
</p>
<lb/>
<p rend="indent1"> Now my dear <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor</ref> you see why you could not receive this on Wednesday —
                    because you directed to Bath &amp; your letter came to me at eleven last
                    night. you shall have another letter from me very shortly with what poetry I
                    have yet unseen by you — but I have a good piece to send you soon — the first
                    book of Madoc. I will ask your question tho methinks there would be but little
                    probability of erring if I answered in the affirmative. perhaps the female heart
                    is more alive to affection than mans — &amp; the dangerous error entailed
                    upon them by education is — that they almost always act from their feelings
                    &amp; not from fixed principles. you may be assured that no fixed principles
                    can possibly form a resolution of celibacy.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I would willingly pass a fortnight with you could I quit this
                    place. but I fear me that love makes a man very selfish when he seems to himself
                    the most remote from selfishness. in truth <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Bedford</ref> I have almost
                    insulated myself from mankind — I shun all company as much as possibly &amp;
                    when not with <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Edith</ref> love to be
                    alone — that if unemployed in reading &amp; writing I may enjoy solitary
                    thoughts. this is better than sitting silent in company, &amp; observing the
                    little errors &amp; follies of all around me — for I am grown an acute
                    observer of men &amp; agree with Burns that “they are an ugly squad.”<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">A paraphrase of Robert Burns (1759–1796;
                            <title level="m">DNB</title>), ‘Epistle to a Young Friend’ (1786), line
                        11, ‘Ye’ll find mankind an unco squad’.</note>
</p>
<p rend="indent1"> fare thee well. I could say very much — &amp; will write to
                    you very soon. “be just &amp; fear not”.<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">
<title level="m">Henry VIII</title>, Act 3, scene 2, line
                        446.</note> without
                    φλαττεργ
                    — Ι θινκ
                    υ
                    καπαβλε
                    οφ
                    πλησινγ
                    ανγ
                    υομαν
                    θοτ υ
                    υισh
                    το
                        πλςασε.*<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">A transliteration of the English,
                        ‘Flattery — I think you [written as ‘u’]
                        capable of pleasing any woman that you wish to please’, into
                    Greek.</note>
</p>
<p>*the language of the look the meaning of those attentions that really spring from
                    a sincere desire of pleasing can never be mistaken. God bless you. remember me
                    affectionately to your <ref target="people.html#Bedfordfamily">father &amp;
                        mother</ref> — &amp; <ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace</ref>. I will write soon to <ref target="people.html#WynnCharlesWW">Wynn</ref>. — God bless him!</p>
<p rend="indent1"> my Joan goes to the press immediately.<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">*the language ... immediately: Written in right hand
                        margin.</note>
</p>
</div>
</body>
</text>
</TEI>
