gious: They produced
the 'curiosity' now before us; for, during his three-hours sleep, Mr
Coleridge 'has the most vivid confidence that he could not have composed
less than from two to three hundred lines.' On awaking, he 'instantly
and eagerly' wrote down the verses here published; when he was (he says,
'_unfortunately_') called out by a 'person on business from Porlock, and
detained by him above an hour;' and when he returned the vision was
gone. The lines here given smell strongly, it must be owned, of the
anodyne; and, but that an under dose of a sedative produces contrary
effects, we should inevitably have been lulled by them into
forgetfulness of all things. Perhaps a dozen more such lines as the
following would reduce the most irritable of critics to a state of
inaction.

'A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she play'd,
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,' &c. &c.

There is a good deal more altogether as exquisite--and in particular a
fine description of a wood, 'ancient as the hills;' and 'folding sunny
spots of _greenery_!' But we suppose this specimen will be sufficient.

Persons in this poet's unhappy condition, generally feel the want of
sleep as the worst of their evils; but there are instances, too, in the
history of the disease, of sleep being attended with new agony, as if
the waking thoughts, how wild and turbulent soever, had still been under
some slight restraint, which sleep instantly removed. Mr Coleridge
appears to have experienced this symptom, if we may judge from the title
of his third poem, '_The Pains of Sleep_;' and, in truth, from its
composition--which is mere raving, without any thing more affecting than
a number of incoherent words, expressive of extravagance and
incongruity.--We need give no specimen of it.

Upon the whole, we look upon this publication as one of the most notable
pieces of impertinence of which the press has lately been g