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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">rce78</idno>
<idno type="edition">letterEEd.26.78</idno>
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<sourceDesc>
<p>Bodleian
                        Library, MS Eng. Lett. c. 22.  Not previously published.</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
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											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
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											St Edmunds) and Northumberland, the Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge; the Society of
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<p>A research grant from the British Academy made much of the archival work possible, as did support from the
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<div n="78" type="letter">
<head>78. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace
                        Walpole Bedford</ref>, <date when="1793-12-30">30 [–31] December 1793</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address: Horace Walpole
                        Bedford Esq<hi rend="sup">r</hi>/ New Palace Yard/ Westminster/ Single.<lb/>
                        Stamped: BRISTOL<lb/>Postmark: [partial] E/ 2/ 94<lb/>Watermarks: G R in a
                        circle; figure of Britannia<lb/>Endorsement: Rec<hi rend="sup">d</hi> Jan<hi rend="sup">y</hi>. 2<hi rend="sup">d</hi>. 1794<lb/> MS: Bodleian
                        Library, MS Eng. Lett. c. 22<lb/>Unpublished.</note>
</head>
<lb/>
<epigraph>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">
<ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace</ref> as oft in musing mood my eye</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Has markd the gradual hues of fading light</l>
<l rend="indent3">When dimly darkening oer the dusky sky</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Slow rising mists had mantled round the sight</l>
<l rend="indent3">My saddening soul enwrapt in kindred gloom</l>
<l rend="indent2">Has felt the pensive power &amp; ponderd oer the
                            tomb.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Nature whose bounteous blessings bloom around</l>
<l rend="indent4"> As good as wise proclaim the important truth</l>
<l rend="indent3">Each springing flower that ornaments the ground</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Each rising morn address the heart of youth</l>
<l rend="indent3">From every atom in her boundless reign </l>
<l rend="indent2">May Contemplation pour the moralizing strain</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Nor ever beams the opening orb of day</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Refulgent thro the shadowy viel of night</l>
<l rend="indent3">Nor ever dimly dies his refluent ray</l>
<l rend="indent4"> When rising vapors viel the beam of light</l>
<l rend="indent3">But as the sage surveys the expanse of sky</l>
<l rend="indent2">He marks the mystic sign that mortal man must die</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">More forceful now the annual course is past</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The mournful lesson sure should strike my friend</l>
<l rend="indent3">Befits to future days the ken to cast</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Behove remember Time himself must end</l>
<l rend="indent3">Behoves thee now my friend to well discern</l>
<l rend="indent2">How little left to live how much is left to learn.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Steep is the path that leads to Science fane</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And many a wildering maze dissects the road</l>
<l rend="indent3">And few the chosen mortals who attain</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Tho sought by many be the blest abode</l>
<l rend="indent3">For Prejudice defends the toilsome way</l>
<l rend="indent2">And Custom chains the best &amp; gives to dull
                            Delay</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Tho few the chosen mortals who attain</l>
<l rend="indent4"> From every danger scaped the blest abode</l>
<l rend="indent3">Yet not devoid of pleasure or of gain</l>
<l rend="indent4"> To pluck the various flowers that gem the road</l>
<l rend="indent3">Tho few may twine the laurel round their brow</l>
<l rend="indent2">The Fates the primrose wreath to many an imp allow.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">And easier leads the path to that strawd roof</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Where Virtue with her heavenly strain resorts</l>
<l rend="indent3">From Folly &amp; from Fashions reign aloof</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The buz of cities &amp; the pride of courts</l>
<l rend="indent3">No wiley fiends the purposd course withstand</l>
<l rend="indent2">For Natures self my friend will thither guide thy
                            hand.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Small is the sum of needful lore — Be Just —</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Be just ye sons of earth &amp; know not fear.</l>
<l rend="indent3">Then calmly shall the soul forsakes its dust</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And sink to sleep without one guilty tear</l>
<l rend="indent3">Secure the equity of heaven to prove</l>
<l rend="indent2">Secure that Justice here assures reward above.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Look <ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace</ref> thro the ample realms of space</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Far as can Fancy range the world survey</l>
<l rend="indent3">In every scene thine eye this lore may trace</l>
<l rend="indent4"> From every object learn that man is clay.</l>
<l rend="indent3">Mark every object that the world can give</l>
<l rend="indent2">And Nature best will teach how mortal man should
                            &lt;live.&gt;</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Canst thou behold the busy bee untaught</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Range oer the painted plain from flower to flower</l>
<l rend="indent3">And thence his thighs with sweetest balsam fraught</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Return to guard against the wintry hour</l>
<l rend="indent3">Canst thou one moment on the scene reflect</l>
<l rend="indent2">Nor know how black the crime of lingering long neglect</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Yet as the busy bee but toils in vain</l>
<l rend="indent4"> To heap up treasure for his treacherous Lord</l>
<l rend="indent3">Doomd for his honest labour to be slain</l>
<l rend="indent4"> That man may seize unharmd the luscious hoard</l>
<l rend="indent3">Remember thus how fickle Fortunes power</l>
<l rend="indent2">That one day thus may come Misfortunes baleful hour.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Yet should thy life be doomd to taste of woe</l>
<l rend="indent4"> To man is Reason best of blessings given</l>
<l rend="indent3">To spurn the wayward turns of fate below</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And seek a firmer truer bliss in heaven</l>
<l rend="indent3">To know that een as dust returns to dust</l>
<l rend="indent2">So heavens etherial climes receive the good &amp;
                                just.<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">Horace ... just: Verse
                                written in double columns.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p rend="indent6"> —————</p>
<p>The Bee will make a tit bit of democracy ere long for <ref target="people.html#SewardEdmund">Edmund Seward</ref>.</p>
</epigraph>
<lb/>
<p>
<date when="1793-12-30">Monday. December 30. 1793.</date>
<time>1/2 past ten in the morning</time>.</p>
<p rend="indent1">
<ref target="people.html#CollinsCharles">C Collins</ref> told me that you had
                    relinquished your favorite employment of letter writing &amp; I begin to
                    believe him. your last passed one of mine on the road. I have written since
                    that. &amp; now have the paper before me &amp; the pen in my hand
                    without yet hearing from you.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> five hours have elapsed since I was obliged to shut my casette
                    but how I can hardly tell you. I have however discovered a very dangerous
                    peculiarity in myself which may get me into some awkward scrapes unless I check
                    it — on a walk thro Bristol streets to pay a long neglected morning visit I read
                    a letter just received &amp; caught myself commenting &amp; rhapsodizing
                    aloud! see how communicative is my disposition — a heart full of romance
                    &amp; a head full too, both beating away most vehemently are very dangerous
                    in the streets. now what there is peculiar to thought meditation or love lorn
                    fancy in folded arms, natural philosophers must determine — my musings were of
                    the agreable order but my arms wanted sadly to cross each other.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> there is much more Romance in this world than I imagined <ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace</ref> &amp; Romance is
                    but another name for goodness — that is if people will look for it — interest
                    interest is dinned into my ears till not only my head aches but my heart too.
                    let the wind whistle as it will I seek the real goods of life &amp; despise
                    (perhaps too much) the artificial blessings. the rude traveller treads on the
                    plant which the Botanist seeks with care — now I am a Botanist in society. curse
                    the tulips turn away from the sunflowers — court the violets &amp; love the
                    roses. </p>
<p rend="indent1"> so much for rhapsody. “out of the fullness of the heart the mouth
                        speaketh.”<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">A paraphrase of <title level="m">Matthew</title> 12: 34.</note> a little food is overpowering
                    to the starvd man as poor Cadman<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Unidentified; a friend of the Bedfords.</note> will tell you. why are you
                    silent Horace? you <hi rend="ital">know how</hi> dearly I love letters in spite
                    of <ref target="people.html#CollinsCharles">CCs</ref> cold investigation of
                    their inutility. now tomorrow I go to Bath &amp; if you will write
                    immediately twill be like Manna to a starved wretchd. direct <ref target="places.html#WestgateBath">N<hi rend="sup">o</hi> 8 Westgate
                        Buildings Bath</ref>. never mind tho you should have written to Bristol.
                    “idleness is the first step of the ladder of iniquity”<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">A commonplace.</note> my good things come so seldom that I am
                    proud of them. remember that maxim my friend &amp; be assured that business
                    is the only antidote against melancholy. &amp; now I am going to dinner —
                    then to call a council in my own mind whether I shall obey Romance or Reason.
                    Romance carries the day — then to the Play for once with pleasure. then to my
                    toasted cheese — then to bed — up at five — walk to Bath to breakfast &amp;
                    then — sink into listless languor &amp; curse the dull course of Time. “a
                    dram of sweete is worth a pound of sour<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">Edmund Spenser (c. 1552–1599; <title level="m">DNB</title>), <title level="m">The Faerie Queene</title> (1590–1596), Book 1, canto 3, line
                        264.</note> so said our Spenser — but my sweets come<del rend="strikethrough">s</del> by atoms &amp; my sours by tons.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> 1/2 past 4. I have been reading Cowpers Homer<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">William Cowper (1731–1800; <title level="m">DNB</title>), <title level="m">The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer,
                            Translated into English Blank Verse</title>, (1791). Southey borrowed
                        the first volume from the Bristol Library Society between 23–27 December
                        1793 and the second from 27–30 December 1793.</note> &amp; much
                    satisfaction has the perusal afforded me. a quotation I had occasion to make
                    gave me an opportunity of discovering how unlike Homer is Popes version.
                    Achilles cuts off his hair at Patroclus tomb &amp; apostrophises
                    Spercheus.</p>
<lg>
<l rend="indent2">Σπερχει,
                        αχχως
                        σοι γς
                        πατηρ
                        ηρησατο
                        Πηλςυ,</l>
<l rend="indent2">Κεισε
                        με
                        νοςησαντα
                        φιλην
                        ες
                        πατριδα
                        γαιαν</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Σοι τε
                        χομην
                        χερεειν
                        ριξειν
                        δ’ ιε<del rend="strikethrough">ε</del>ρην
                            εκατομβην<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">The Greek can be translated as ‘O
                            Spercheius, my father Peleus promised you in vain that when I returned
                            here to my dear native land I would cut my hair for you and perform a
                            holy hecatomb’. These are Achilles’ opening words at the funeral of
                            Patroclus, <title level="m">Iliad</title>, Book 23, lines
                            144–146.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Spercheus whose waves in mazy error lost</l>
<l rend="indent2">Delightful roll along my native coast</l>
<l rend="indent2">To whom we fondly vowd at our return</l>
<l rend="indent2">These locks to fall &amp; hecatombs to burn</l>
<l rend="indent8"> Pope — <note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">Alexander Pope
                            (1688–1744; <title level="m">DNB</title>), <title level="m">The Iliad of
                                Homer</title>, 6 vols (London, 1715–1720), VI, p. 69.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p>now one translation being enough for my purpose — I do not transcribe Cowper. can
                    there be a more licentious paraphrase than Popes is of this passage?</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I could wish you to translate Lucan<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">Marcus Annaeus Lucanus (AD 39–65). Southey is possibly
                        referring to his epic <title level="m">Pharsalia</title>.</note> were it not
                    rather a servile task &amp; certainly but secondary praise. another epic
                    poem must soon save me from listlessness — on what subject I am much divided.
                    Brutus Cassibelan Arthur Egbert [MS obscured] Alfred &amp; Odin<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey’s list of possible subjects for an epic
                        includes Brutus, legendary first King of Britain and great-grandson of
                        Aeneas; Cassibelan, who led the resistance to Julius Caesar’s second
                        invasion of Britain 54 BC; Arthur, legendary King of Britain; Egbert (d.
                        839; reigned 802–839; <title level="m">DNB</title>), the first king of the
                        West Saxons to be acknowledged as King of England; Alfred the Great
                        (848/9–899; reigned 871–899; <title level="m">DNB</title>); and Odin, leader
                        of the Norse gods.</note> are all fighting for pre eminence. in the meantime
                    one song of Memory is finished &amp; various smaller compositions fill up
                    the hour the paper &amp; the casette. were you at Oxford with me we could
                    make the Body-lining of some use. by the by a metrical romance would be a good
                        <del rend="strikethrough">subject</del> opportunity to wilder it away.</p>
<lb/>
<p>
<date when="1793-12-31">Tuesday morning</date>. my departure is delayd till after
                    breakfast &amp; the cold interval is yours. should your letter as I expect
                    arrive tomorrow it will be forwarded or rather backwarded to me. my casette
                    &amp; I are inseperable — all my <hi rend="ital">guathel</hi>
<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">Welsh word for household
                    goods.</note>goes with me &amp; Akenside<note n="12" place="foot" resp="editors">Mark Akenside (1721–1770; <title level="m">DNB</title>),
                        author of the <title level="m">Pleasures of Imagination</title>
                        (1744).</note> &amp; Lucan are my pocket companions. you would be
                    astonishd at the number of volumes I have read in this manner. it is very seldom
                    that I am without a book in my pocket. &amp; the half &amp; quarters of
                    hours wasted so often in waiting amount to a great deal in the year. ten to one
                    but I read all the way to Bath &amp; should the sun shine it makes glad the
                    heart of man spout vociferously to the edification of all the stage coachmen.
                    this however only happens in abstraction. Shall you join our party at <ref target="places.html#BalliolOxford">Balliol</ref>? if not what do you do with
                    yourself? another year should not pass in solitude &amp; what <ref target="people.html#CollinsCharles">CC</ref> calls originalizing. with us
                    you are sure of society &amp; employment &amp; I may say you will seldom
                    find a better set tho Christ Church may furnish a genteeler. it is time you
                    should determine. this seclusion of yourself you have already practised too
                    long. experience shows me its ill effects. you must mix more with the world —
                    study men &amp; manners &amp; forget melancholy in employment. <ref target="people.html#SewardEdmund">Edmund Seward</ref> will be at <ref target="places.html#BalliolOxford">Balliol</ref> till June next &amp; if
                    you enter there our party will be six in that college. <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">your brother</ref> knows how we
                    live &amp; upon what friendly unceremonious terms. I will venture to affirm
                    that we live there as agreably as any young men can live at college — come
                    &amp; try — put on a cap &amp; gown break your spectacles &amp; come
                    to chapel with me twice a day. <ref target="people.html#CollinsCharles">CC</ref>
                    has invited me to <ref target="places.html#MaizeHill">Maize Hill</ref> but it
                    was impossible to accept his invitation. my life here is as bad as yours with
                    this difference — yours is choice mine necessity. since I quitted <ref target="places.html#Brixton">Brixton</ref> I have only walked out for the
                    air twice. &amp; except that have not walked two miles in the whole two
                    months. you will call this wrong but I am chained to my casette for want of
                    employment, &amp; like Calypso island<note n="13" place="foot" resp="editors">In the <title level="m">Odyssey</title>, Calypso is a nymph
                        who detains Ulysses and his companions for seven years on her island,
                        Ogygia.</note> tis difficult to escape from it.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> my hands ache with the cold &amp; breakfast is preparing. my
                    shirts &amp;c are packing up &amp; momentary interruptions disturb me.
                    write immediately. why not write some odes &amp;c &amp;c? has <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">your brother</ref> seen any of
                        <ref target="people.html#LovellRobert">Lovells</ref> verses? I have two
                    beautiful sonnets of his in my casette for transcription the snowdrop &amp;
                    the nightingale. shall I send them? his verses flow more naturally than mine but
                    I feel pleased at finding a superior. thank God I have neither envy nor
                    ambition.</p>
<closer>
<salute rend="indent8">yrs sincerely</salute>
<signed rend="indent11">R Southey</signed>
</closer>
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