M. Youth and Age

Linenotes:

controlling] ? impelling, ? directing.

[Vide ante, p. .]

MS. I

10 Sept. 1823. Wednesday Morning, 10 o'clock

On the Tenth Day of September,
Eighteen hundred Twenty Three,
Wednesday morn, and I remember
Ten on the Clock the Hour to be
[The Watch and Clock do both agree]

An Air that whizzed διὰ ἐγκεφάλου (right across the diameter
of my Brain) exactly like a Hummel Bee, alias Dumbeldore,
the gentleman with Rappee Spenser (sic), with bands of Red, and
Orange Plush Breeches, close by my ear, at once sharp and
burry, right over the summit of Quantock [item of Skiddaw 10
(erased)] at earliest Dawn just between the Nightingale that
I stopt to hear in the Copse at the Foot of Quantock, and the
first Sky-Lark that was a Song-Fountain, dashing up and
sparkling to the Ear's eye, in full column, or ornamented Shaft of
sound in the order of Gothic Extravaganza, out of Sight, over 15
the Cornfields on the Descent of the Mountain on the other
side—out of sight, tho' twice I beheld its mute shoot downward in
the sunshine like a falling star of silver:—

Aria Spontanea

Flowers are lovely, Love is flower-like,
Friendship is a shelt'ring tree—
O the Joys, that came down shower-like,
Of Beauty, Truth, and Liberty,
When I was young, ere I was old!
[O Youth that wert so glad, so bold,
What quaint disguise hast thou put on?
Would'st make-believe that thou art gone?
O Youth! thy Vesper Bell] has not yet toll'd.

Thou always were a Masker bold—
What quaint Disguise hast now put on?
To make believe that thou art gone!

O Youth, so true, so fair, so free,
Thy Vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd,
Thou always, &c.

Ah! was it not enough, that Thou
In Thy eternal Glory should outgo me?
Would'st thou not Grief's sad Victory allow

Hope's a Breeze that robs the Blossoms
Fancy feeds, and murmurs the Bee——

Ms. II

1

Verse, that Breeze mid blossoms straying
Where Hope clings feeding like a Bee.
Both were mine: Life went a Maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young.
When I was young! ah woeful When!
Ah for the Change twixt now and then!
This House of Life, not built with hands
Where now I sigh, where once I sung.

Or [This snail-like House, not built with hands,
This Body that does me grievous wrong.]

O'er Hill and dale and sounding Sands.
How lightly then it flash'd along—
Like those trim Boats, unknown of yore,
On Winding Lakes and Rivers wide,
That ask no aid of Sail or Oar,
That fear no spite of Wind or Tide.

Pencil

Nought car'd this Body for wind or weather,
When youth and I liv'd in't together.

2

Flowers are lovely, Love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering Tree;
O the joys that came down shower-like
Of Beauty, Truth and Liberty
When I was young 5
When I was young, ah woeful when
Ah for the change twixt now and then
In Heat or Frost we car'd not whether
Night and day we lodged together
woeful when
When I was young—ah words of agony 10
Ah for the change 'twixt now and then
O youth my Home-Mate dear so long, so long:
I thought that thou and I were one
I scarce believe that thou art gone
Thou always wert a Masker bold
I mark that change, in garb and size 15
heave the Breath
Those grisled Locks I well behold
But still thy Heart is in thine eyes
What strange disguise hast now put on
To make believe that thou art gone

Or [O youth for years so many so sweet 20
It seem'd that Thou and I were one
That still I nurse the fond deceit
And scarce believe that thou art gone]

[1087]When I was young—ere I was old
Ah! happy ere, ah! woeful When
When I was young, ah woeful when
Which says that Youth and I are twain!
O Youth! for years so many and sweet
'Tis known that Thou and I were one
I'll think it but a false conceit
Tis but a gloomy
It cannot be,
I'll not believe that thou art gone
Thy Vesper Bell has not yet toll'd
always
And thou wert still a masker bold
What hast
Some strange disguise thou'st now put on
To make believe that thou art gone?
I see these Locks in silvery slips,
This dragging gait, this alter'd size
But spring-tide blossoms on thy Lips
And the young Heart is in thy eyes
tears take sunshine from
Life is but Thought so think I will
That Youth and I are Housemates still.

Ere I was old
Ere I was old! ah woeful ere
Which tells me youth's no longer here!
O Youth, &c.
Dewdrops are the Gems of Morning,
But the Tears of mournful Eve:
Where no Hope is Life's a Warning
me
That only serves to make us grieve,
Now I am old.