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<title type="main">The Collected Letters of Robert Southey. Part 2: 1798-1803 </title>
<title type="subordinate">A Romantic Circles Electronic Edition</title>
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<name>Southey, Robert, 1774-1843</name>
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<editor>Lynda Pratt</editor>
<sponsor>Romantic Circles</sponsor>
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<resp>General Editor, </resp>
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<date>2011-08-15</date>
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<idno type="nines">rce773</idno>
<idno type="edition">letterEEd.26.764</idno>
<publisher>Romantic Circles, http://www.rc.umd.edu, University of Maryland</publisher>
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<date when="2011-08-15">August 15, 2011</date>
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<sourceDesc>
<p>Houghton Library, bMS Eng 265.1
                        (8).  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
											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="764" type="letter">
<head>764. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor
                        Charles Bedford</ref>, <date when="1803-03-09">9 March
                        1803</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address: To/ Grosvenor Charles Bedford
                            Esq<hi rend="sup">r</hi>/ Exchequer/ Westminster/
                        Single <lb/>Stamped: [partial] BRISTOL<lb/>Postmark: B/
                        MAR 10/ 1803<lb/>MS: Houghton Library, bMS Eng 265.1
                        (8)<lb/>Unpublished.</note>
</head>
<p rend="indent5"> The Curse of Kehama</p>
<p rend="indent6"> ______</p>
<lb/>
<p rend="indent6"> Book 2.</p>
<p rend="indent6"> ______</p>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent4"> Against a Cocoa trunk </l>
<l rend="indent4"> Laderlad lay reclin’d,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And Kalyal hid her face</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Upon her fathers knees.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> The boatman as he saild along</l>
<l rend="indent2"> With envious eye beheld them where they
                        lay.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> For every herb &amp; every tree</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Was fresh &amp; fragrant with the gleamy
                        dew,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Sweet sung the birds above.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> And the cool morning gale, that now</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Rolld ruffling up the stream,</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Swept oer the moistened sand &amp; raisd
                        no shower</l>
<l rend="indent2"> He did not marvel that they lingered
                        there</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Amid their tale of love.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2"> But now the Sun hath climbd the heights
                        of heavn</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The little songsters of the sky</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Sit silent in the sultry hour.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> They pant &amp; palpitate with pain</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Their bills are open languidly</l>
<l rend="indent5"> To catch the passing air,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> They hear it not, they feel it not,</l>
<l rend="indent5"> It murmurs not, it moves not.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The boatman as he saild along</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Admires what men so mad to linger
                        there,</l>
<l rend="indent2"> For yonder Cocoas shade behind them falls </l>
<l rend="indent2"> A single speck upon the burning sand.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2"> There all the morning hours Laderlad
                        lay</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Silent &amp; motionless.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> There motionless upon her fathers
                        knees</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The silent maid reclind.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> The man was still, pondering in steady
                        thought</l>
<l rend="indent3"> As tho it were anothers curse</l>
<l rend="indent4"> His own mysterious doom,</l>
<l rend="indent3"> As tho it were last-nights tale</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Of wonderment by some old storyer
                        sung,</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Sitting at moonlight by the cottage
                        door.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> All seem’d a dream at length.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> A monstrous dream of things that could
                        not be.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> That throb of forehead .. was it not full
                        noon?</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And he was lying there</l>
<l rend="indent4"> All bare to the broad sun!</l>
<l rend="indent4"> What if he felt no wind?</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Why all the winds were hushd.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> There came no rustling from yon field of
                        rice,</l>
<l rend="indent2"> The shadow of the Cocoas lightest
                        plume</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Was steady on the sand.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2"> He rose, he ran impatient to the
                        brink.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> He stopt to break the visionary
                        spell.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> He plunged his head amid the stream.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Kalyal with fearful eye observed his
                        chance.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> She saw the start &amp; shudder.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> She heard the half-uttered groan.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> For the Water knew Kehamas curse</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The Water shrunk before him.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> His dry hand moved unmoistened thro
                        wave.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> As easily might that dry hand</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Have clenchd the winds of heaven!</l>
<l rend="indent4"> ‘He is almighty then!’</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The desperate wretch exclaimd,</l>
<l rend="indent2"> ‘Air knows him, Water knows him. Sleep
                        &amp; Death</l>
<l rend="indent4"> ‘Will do his dreadful will,</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘And Veeshnoo has no power to save</l>
<l rend="indent4"> ‘Nor Seeva to destroy!’</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2"> ‘Oh wrong not them!’ quoth Kalyal. art
                        not thou</l>
<l rend="indent2"> ‘A man opprest? &amp; lighter crimes than
                        his</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Have drawn the Incarnate down.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> ‘Already in their mercy have the Gods</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘Beheld us,’ – &amp; she claspd her
                        arms</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Round Mariatales image .. ‘it was
                        She,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> ‘Twas my own Goddess saved me!</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘Here – here – my father,’ she
                        exclaim’d</l>
<l rend="indent4"> ‘Raise the preserving Power.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> ‘The mighty of the earth despise her
                        rites.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> ‘She loves the poor who serve her. lift
                        her here</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘For jealously would she resent</l>
<l rend="indent4"> ‘Neglect &amp; thanklessness.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3"> So saying on here knees the Maid</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Began the pious toil.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Soon their joint hands have hollowed the
                        due depth</l>
<l rend="indent4"> They raise the Image up</l>
<l rend="indent2"> And heap the sand around its rooted
                        base.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> ‘My Goddess!’ then quoth Kalyal, ‘pardon
                        thou</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘The unwilling wrong that I no more</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘Can do, thy daily sacrifice</l>
<l rend="indent2"> ‘From childhood up so willingly
                        performd.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> ‘O Mariatale! from that happy home</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘The Almighty Man hath forced us! –’</l>
<l rend="indent3"> And her involuntary eye,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Went homeward with the thought.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> That way aloft, all bright in the blue
                        air</l>
<l rend="indent2"> The summits of the Golden Towers were
                        seen.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘Father away!’ she cried – ‘away</l>
<l rend="indent4"> ‘Why linger we so near?</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘For not to him hath Nature given</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘The thousand eyes of Deity</l>
<l rend="indent2"> ‘Always &amp; every where with open
                        sight</l>
<l rend="indent3"> ‘To watch our steps! – away –’</l>
<l rend="indent2"> She took Laderlads hand, &amp; like a
                        child</l>
<l rend="indent4"> He followed where she led.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3"> So till evening hand in hand</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The wanderers went their way</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Then overwearied with their wretched
                        toil</l>
<l rend="indent4"> By a wood-side they paused.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> And there beneath oerarching boughs</l>
<l rend="indent2"> On Kalyals lap Laderlad laid his head</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And never word spake he.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Nor heaved he one complaining sigh,</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Nor groand he with his misery.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> But silently for her dear sake</l>
<l rend="indent4"> He lay in patient pain.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The night comes on – dark night –</l>
<l rend="indent4"> There is no moon above</l>
<l rend="indent2"> And yonder clouds that float along the
                        heaven</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Bedim the feeble stars.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> She could not see her fathers cheek</l>
<l rend="indent4"> How dark with fever fire,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> She could not see his eye</l>
<l rend="indent3"> How red with burning agony.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> And he lies <del rend="strikethrough">on</del> still &amp; quietly –</l>
<l rend="indent4"> So quietly – so still.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Is then the throbbing brain at rest.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And hath the pang abated?</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent4"> Now forward from the tree</l>
<l rend="indent4"> She bends her head &amp; leans</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And listens to his breath.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Laderlads breath was short &amp;
                        quick,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Yet regular it came</l>
<l rend="indent2"> In equal pantings, like a sick mans
                        sleep.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Oh! if he sleeps! – her lips unclose</l>
<l rend="indent3"> All eager listening to the sound,</l>
<l rend="indent3"> The equal sound so like repose:</l>
<l rend="indent3"> And he lies still so quietly</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Nor sigh – nor groan, nor motion.</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Then is there in Kehama’s heart</l>
<l rend="indent4"> One human feeling yet?</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Hath the Almighty Man relaxed his
                        wrath?</l>
<l rend="indent3"> Or Mariatales power divine</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Assuaged the agony?</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2"> That was a hope that filled her gushing
                        eyes,</l>
<l rend="indent2"> And made her heart in silent thank &amp;
                        prayer</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Yearn to the Goddess. then against the
                        tree</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Her weary head she laid,</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Still listening fearfully her fathers
                        breath</l>
<l rend="indent3"> That still came regular like sleep.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> She listened long, till the long
                        listening lulld</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Exhausted Nature. Nature to her toil</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Yielding at length obeyed the imperious
                        want,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And Kalyal sunk to rest.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent4"> Alas He did not sleep!</l>
<l rend="indent3"> The curse was burning in his brain</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Sleep knew Kehamas curse.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The dews of night fell fast,</l>
<l rend="indent3"> They never bathed Laderlads brow,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> They fell not upon him,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> They knew Kehamas curse.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The night-breeze is abroad.</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Aloft it moves among the stirring
                        leaves.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> He only hears the wind,</l>
<l rend="indent4"> It never fannd his cheek</l>
<l rend="indent4"> It knew Kehamas curse.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2"> He lay &amp; listened if his daughter
                        slept,</l>
<l rend="indent2"> For wherefore should that dear one see
                        &amp; share</l>
<l rend="indent2"> His hopeless misery? why should he
                        endure</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Reflected wretchedness?</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Better alone to suffer. – from her
                        lap</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Gently he lifts his head –</l>
<l rend="indent2"> She moves not – gently &amp; with fearful
                        feet</l>
<l rend="indent2"> Laderlad rises, – then she starts – she
                        feels</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Her father gone – she calls –</l>
<l rend="indent4"> No voice replied. she heard</l>
<l rend="indent4"> His footstep fast in flight.<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">Against a Cocoa trunk ….
                            in flight: Verse written in double
                        columns.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p rend="indent5"> x x x x x x x </p>
<lb/>
<p rend="indent1"> The rest of the book this week. You would
                    have had this long ago but for causes with which you are
                    already acquainted. I have been harrassed with
                        Reviewing.<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey was reviewing for the <title>Annual Review for
                            1802</title>, 1 (1803).</note> &amp; last week was
                    obliged to go some way from home to pay a visit which had
                    been somewhat discourteously from time to time delayed. I
                    have still the remainder of this week to drudge – &amp; then
                    shall have cleared off this lumber. three weeks more work at
                        Amadis<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey’s
                        translation of <title>Amadis of Gaul</title>
                        (1803).</note> after that, &amp; then – thank God – a
                    little breathing time – for I am worried.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I forgot to thank Nicol<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">William Nicol (d. c. 1855)
                        was a publisher and friend of Grosvenor Bedford. His
                        stepmother, Mary Nicol (1747-1820), was a famous print
                        collector.</note> for offering to lend me the prints –
                    but the risque is too great. &amp; moreover I meditate a
                    journey to London for a few days in April &amp; then can see
                    them. At Bownham<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                        Gloucestershire estate of <ref target="people.html#SmithThomas">Thomas
                        Smith</ref>.</note> last week I fell in with Craufords
                    Sketches of the Hindoos<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">Quintin Craufurd (1743-1819;
                            <title>DNB</title>), <title>Sketches Chiefly
                            Relating to the History, Religion, Learning and
                            Manners of the Hindoos</title> (1790).</note> &amp;
                    gutted them. so you need not hunt for me there. Holwells
                        book<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">John
                        Zephaniah Holwell (1711-1798; <title>DNB</title>),
                            <title>Interesting Historical Events, Relative to
                            the Provinces of Bengal and the Empire of
                            Indostan</title> (1765-1771).</note> would be new
                    ground to beat. with my first leisure I shall look well over
                    your Ovid.<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">Anon.,
                            <title>Four Heroick Epistles of Ovid; translated
                            into English verse</title> (1803).</note> indeed I
                    have had no time – I have worked like a post horse.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> It vexes me to think of <ref target="places.html#Brixton">Brixton</ref> –</p>
<closer>
<salute rend="indent1"> God bless you Grosvenor!</salute>
<signed rend="indent2"> RS.</signed>
<lb/>
<date when="1803-03-09">March 9. 1803.</date>
</closer>
</div>
</body>
</text>
</TEI>
