An Introduction to Samuel Taylor

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An Introduction to Samuel Taylor Coleridge

For sheer lushness of language and richness of imagery this poem-fragment must stand alone in the gathering of the Romantic Poets. I present this as a taste of Coleridge as I mull over whether or not to present the wonderful "Rime of the Ancient Mariner," or the truly dark and interesting "Cristabel." Both are quite long, so I approach them with some apprehension for the patience of my gentle audience. But I continue to consider as I present this wonderful poem:

Kubla Khan Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)


In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.


But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

"For he on honey-dew hath fed,/And drunk the milk of Paradise." I love the end of the fragment, and truly thank God for that visitor (though the story may be apocryphal) who interrupted the construction of this poem. Had it gone on, I am not sure it would stand as surely as it does today. Sometimes grace transforms might have been a mediocre work into a masterpiece simply by staying the poet's hand.

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This page contains a single entry by Steven Riddle published on October 26, 2002 8:35 AM.

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