Ode to France E sta Coleridge's ode was first published in the Morning Post the April 16, 1798, the same year was reprinted in a pamphlet in-room (with Frost at Midnight "and" Fears in Solitude "), was reissued with" Fears in Solitude "in Morning Post on 14 October 1802, and reprinted again in Poetical Register of 1812, was collected, Finally, in the collection of poems Leaves Sybilline 1817. ---
The long history of publishing Oda this indicates its value as a public statement of Coleridge shift from a radical position in favor of the French Revolution, the counter-revolutionary. The original title of 1798 was "The recantation: An Ode" ("The denial, an ode"). Such "resignations" public appeared throughout Europe in this period, after the French invasion of Switzerland in March 1798, which was interpreted as an advanced imperialist Germany, published odes of this style Goethe, Klopstock, Schiller, Wieland and Kotzebue. (The information is taken from Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Selected Poetry. Ed. Richard Holmes. London: Penguin, 1996, p. 350.)
France: An Ode
I
Clouds! that float and are delayed about me, go wandering
which no mortal control.
ocean waves! which always follow where they go, eternal laws. Forest
! you hear birds singing at night in the recumbent
gentle slope and dangerous, if not shaken
their own branches
overriding the wind and make a solemn music.
There, as a man of God loved the shadows
never trodden by other men,
how many times, pursuing fancies holy,
walked under moonlight the grass flourishing,
inspired more than dementia can assume, for each shade
rude and every wild unconquerable sound?
Oh, sound waves, and you, high Forest,
and you, oh, clouds that rise up,
you, rising sun, you, happy blue sky!,
yes, all things being and are free
witness where are the deep devotion that
always adored the most divine spirit of Freedom!
II
When France lifted its giant angrily
members and with the oath, which hit air, land and sea, said his enormous
up and said they are free, Esperance and
how I feared, testify,
with what joy my congratulations sang solemn
undaunted in the midst of a gang of tyrants
as to overwhelm the nation disenchanted as demons enraged
by the power of a sorcerer,
Monarchs marched in evil day, and England
joined the faction terrible
but were beloved beaches and surrounding ocean,
although many friendships, many youthful loves
support the patriotic emotion and cast a magical light on mountains and forests;
my voice, however, unaltered, sang defeat
of all who fought the tyrants
launches opposition and shame too delayed and vain retreat.
As ever, oh, Liberty, desire alone,
hid your light or licked your holy flame
blessed, yes, the bases of France redeemed
and dropped my head and cried in the name of England.
III
"What?" I said, "although the high cry of blasphemy
with the sweet music of salvation compete,
although all drunk and ferocious passions tied
dance wildest dream of a insane
despite storms, which are stacked eastern dawn, sunrise
but hiding your light. "
And when, to soothe my soul, full of hope and fear,
dissonance ceased, and everything seemed peaceful and bright
when France, his face bloody, scarred,
stacked capped with crowns glory
when moving irresistibly
mocked the attack arm of the warrior,
while, casting shy glances of anger, betrayal
domestic crushed beneath her fatal tread,
shook like a wounded dragon in his blood,
Then I reproached my fears that had not been withdrawn;
"And soon," he said, "Wisdom will teach his knowledge in the low huts
of those working and moan
and conquest only with happiness, France
force other nations to be free,
until love and joy
look around and see the land in his possession. "
IV
Forgive me, Freedom! forgive those dreams!
hear your voice, I hear your complaint powerful;
emitted from the icy caverns of the bleak Helvetia,
hear your moans about his blood-stained waters.
heroes who died for your
peaceful country and you who, fleeing, spot your mountain snow
with bleeding wounds, forgive me, because I encouraged
a thought that perhaps blessed
cruel enemies to sow hatred and traitorous guilt, where
Peace her jealous home had built;
to disinherit a race of patriots
of all that is so dear to his tempestuous lands and irredeemable
spirit to stain the bloodless freedom of Montanez-
Oh, France, you make fun of Heaven, adulterous, blind, and patriot
tasks only harmful
Are these your deeds, the champion of humanity?
Kings "Mix with the creeping lust for power,
screaming in hunting and sharing with them the spoils criminal?
"Insulting the shrine of Liberty with spoils stolen
free men? Tempted to betray?
V
The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain,
slaves of their own compulsion. In a furious game
break their shackles and use the word
Liberation recorded heavy chains.
Oh, Freedom! with selfless efforts
chased many hours you weary;
but you do not inflame the song of the winner and never breathed
your soul in the form of human power. Unlike
all, as you praise,
(nor prayer nor boastful name you delay),
different from the priesthood lackeys and harpies and obscene
slaves factious Blasphemy,
your hurry you on your delicate wings, Guide
homeless winds and playmate of the waves.
And there I felt the edge of that cliff ocean,
whose pines, just busy in the breeze,
come together in a single murmur of the distant waves.
Yes, while standing admiring these things, his forehead naked and threw
my being for the land, by sea and by air,
embracing all with the most intense love,
oh, freedom! there I felt my spirit.
