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Title: Verses Addressed To J. Horne Tooke And The Company
Author: Samuel Taylor Coleridge [
More Titles by Coleridge]
VERSES ADDRESSED TO J. HORNE TOOKE AND THE COMPANY WHO MET ON JUNE 28TH, 1796,
TO CELEBRATE HIS POLL AT THE WESTMINSTER ELECTION
Britons! when last ye met, with distant streak
So faintly promis'd the pale Dawn to break:
So dim it stain'd the precincts of the Sky
E'en _Expectation_ gaz'd with doubtful Eye.
But now such fair Varieties of Light
O'ertake the heavy sailing Clouds of Night;
Th' Horizon kindles with so rich a red,
That tho' the _Sun still hides_ his glorious head
Th' impatient Matin-bird, _assur'd of Day_,
Leaves his low nest to meet its earliest ray;
Loud the sweet song of Gratulation sings,
And high in air claps his rejoicing wings!
Patriot and Sage! whose breeze-like Spirit first
The lazy mists of Pedantry dispers'd
(Mists in which Superstition's _pigmy_ band
Seem'd Giant Forms, the Genii of the Land!),
Thy struggles soon shall wak'ning Britain bless,
And Truth and Freedom hail thy wish'd success.
Yes _Tooke!_ tho' foul Corruption's wolfish throng
Outmalice Calumny's imposthum'd Tongue,
Thy Country's noblest and _determin'd_ Choice,
Soon shalt thou thrill the Senate with thy voice;
With gradual Dawn bid Error's phantoms flit,
Or wither with the lightning's flash of Wit;
Or with sublimer mien and tones more deep,
Charm sworded Justice from mysterious Sleep,
'By violated Freedom's loud Lament,
Her Lamps extinguish'd and her Temple rent;
By the forc'd tears her captive Martyrs shed;
By each pale Orphan's feeble cry for bread;
By ravag'd Belgium's corse-impeded Flood,
And Vendee steaming still with brothers' blood!'
And if amid the strong impassion'd Tale,
Thy Tongue should falter and thy Lips turn pale;
If transient Darkness film thy aweful Eye,
And thy tir'd Bosom struggle with a sigh:
Science and Freedom shall demand to hear
Who practis'd on a Life so doubly dear;
Infus'd the unwholesome anguish drop by drop,
Pois'ning the sacred stream they could not stop!
Shall bid thee with recover'd strength relate
How dark and deadly is a Coward's Hate:
What seeds of death by wan Confinement sown,
When Prison-echoes mock'd Disease's groan!
Shall bid th' indignant Father flash dismay,
And drag the unnatural Villain into Day
Who[151:1] to the sports of his flesh'd Ruffians left
Two lovely Mourners of their Sire bereft!
'Twas wrong, like this, which Rome's _first Consul_ bore,
So by th' insulted Female's name _he_ swore
Ruin (and rais'd her reeking dagger high)
Not to the _Tyrants_ but the Tyranny!
1796.
[The end]
Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem: Verses Addressed To J. Horne Tooke And The Company
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