'Fears In Solitude' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell ! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on,
All golden with the never-bloomless furze,
Which now blooms most profusely : but the dell,
Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate
As vernal corn-field, or the unripe flax,
When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve,
The level sunshine glimmers with green light.
Oh ! 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook !
Which all, methinks, would love ; but chiefly he,
The humble man, who, in his youthful years,
Knew just so much of folly, as had made
His early manhood more securely wise !
Here he might lie on fern or withered heath,
While from the singing lark (that sings unseen
The minstrelsy that solitude loves best),
And from the sun, and from the breezy air,
Sweet influences trembled o'er his frame ;
And he, with many feelings, many thoughts,
Made up a meditative joy, and found
Religious meanings in the forms of Nature !
And so, his senses gradually wrapt
In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds,
And dreaming hears thee still, O singing lark,
That singest like an angel in the clouds !

My God ! it is a melancholy thing
For such a man, who would full fain preserve
His soul in calmness, yet perforce must feel
For all his human brethren--O my God !
It weighs upon the heart, that he must think
What uproar and what strife may now be stirring
This way or that way o'er these silent hills--
Invasion, and the thunder and the shout,
And all the crash of onset ; fear and rage,
And undetermined conflict--even now,
Even now, perchance, and in his native isle :
Carnage and groans beneath this blessed sun !
We have offended, Oh ! my countrymen !
We have offended very grievously,
And been most tyrannous. From east to west
A groan of accusation pierces Heaven !
The wretched plead against us ; multitudes
Countless and vehement, the sons of God,
Our brethren ! Like a cloud that travels on,
Steamed up from Cairo's swamps of pestilence,
Even so, my countrymen ! have we gone forth
And borne to distant tribes slavery and pangs,
And, deadlier far, our vices, whose deep taint
With slow perdition murders the whole man,
His body and his soul ! Meanwhile, at home,
All individual dignity and power
Engulfed in Courts, Committees, Institutions,
Associations and Societies,
A vain, speach-mouthing, speech-reporting Guild,
One Benefit-Club for mutual flattery,
We have drunk up, demure as at a grace,
Pollutions from the brimming cup of wealth ;
Contemptuous of all honourable rule,
Yet bartering freedom and the poor man's life
For gold, as at a market ! The sweet words
Of Christian promise, words that even yet
Might stem destruction, were they wisely preached,
Are muttered o'er by men, whose tones proclaim
How flat and wearisome they feel their trade :
Rank scoffers some, but most too indolent
To deem them falsehoods or to know their truth.
Oh ! blasphemous ! the Book of Life is made
A superstitious instrument, on which
We gabble o'er the oaths we mean to break ;
For all must swear--all and in every place,
College and wharf, council and justice-court ;
All, all must swear, the briber and the bribed,
Merchant and lawyer, senator and priest,
The rich, the poor, the old man and the young ;
All, all make up one scheme of perjury,
That faith doth reel ; the very name of God
Sounds like a juggler's charm ; and, bold with joy,
Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place,
(Portentious sight !) the owlet Atheism,
Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon,
Drops his blue-fringéd lids, and holds them close,
And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven,
Cries out, `Where is it ?'

[Image][Image][Image] Thankless too for peace,
(Peace long preserved by fleets and perilous seas)
Secure from actual warfare, we have loved
To swell the war-whoop, passionate for war !
Alas ! for ages ignorant of all
Its ghastlier workings, (famine or blue plague,
Battle, or siege, or flight through wintry snows,)
We, this whole people, have been clamorous
For war and bloodshed ; animating sports,
The which we pay for as a thing to talk of,
Spectators and not combatants ! No guess
Anticipative of a wrong unfelt,
No speculation on contingency,
However dim and vague, too vague and dim
To yield a justifying cause ; and forth,
(Stuffed out with big preamble, holy names,
And adjurations of the God in Heaven,)
We send our mandates for the certain death
Of thousands and ten thousands ! Boys and girls,
And women, that would groan to see a child
Pull off an insect's wing, all read of war,
The best amusement for our morning meal !
The poor wretch, who has learnt his only prayers
From curses, and who knows scarcely words enough
To ask a blessing from his Heavenly Father,
Becomes a fluent phraseman, absolute
And technical in victories and defeats,
And all our dainty terms for fratricide ;
Terms which we trundle smoothly o'er our tongues
Like mere abstractions, empty sounds to which
We join no feeling and attach no form !
As if the soldier died without a wound ;
As if the fibres of this godlike frame
Were gored without a pang ; as if the wretch,
Who fell in battle, doing bloody deeds,
Passed off to Heaven, translated and not killed ;
As though he had no wife to pine for him,
No God to judge him ! Therefore, evil days
Are coming on us, O my countrymen !
And what if all-avenging Providence,
Strong and retributive, should make us know
The meaning of our words, force us to feel
The desolation and the agony
Of our fierce doings ?

[Image][Image][Image] Spare us yet awhile,
Father and God ! O ! spare us yet awhile !
Oh ! let not English women drag their flight
Fainting beneath the burthen of their babes,
Of the sweet infants, that but yesterday
Laughed at the breast ! Sons, brothers, husbands, all
Who ever gazed with fondness on the forms
Which grew up with you round the same fire-side,
And all who ever heard the sabbath-bells
Without the infidel's scorn, make yourselves pure !
Stand forth ! be men ! repel an impious foe,
Impious and false, a light yet cruel race,
Who laugh away all virtue, mingling mirth
With deeds of murder ; and still promising
Freedom, themselves too sensual to be free,
Poison life's amities, and cheat the heart
Of faith and quiet hope, and all that soothes,
And all that lifts the spirit ! Stand we forth ;
Render them back upon the insulted ocean,
And let them toss as idly on its waves
As the vile sea-weed, which some mountain-blast
Swept from our shores ! And oh ! may we return
Not with a drunken triumph, but with fear,
Repenting of the wrongs with which we stung
So fierce a foe to frenzy !

[Image][Image][Image][Image] I have told,
O Britons ! O my brethren ! I have told
Most bitter truth, but without bitterness.
Nor deem my zeal or factious or mistimed ;
For never can true courage dwell with them,
Who, playing tricks with conscience, dare not look
At their own vices. We have been too long
Dupes of a deep delusion ! Some, belike,
Groaning with restless enmity, expect
All change from change of constituted power ;
As if a Government had been a robe,
On which our vice and wretchedness were tagged
Like fancy-points and fringes, with the robe
Pulled off at pleasure. Fondly these attach
A radical causation to a few
Poor drudges of chastising Providence,
Who borrow all their hues and qualities
From our own folly and rank wickedness,
Which gave them birth and nursed them. Others, meanwhile,
Dote with a mad idolatry ; and all
Who will not fall before their images,
And yield them worship, they are enemies
Even of their country !

[Image] [Image] [Image] Such have I been deemed--
But, O dear Britain ! O my Mother Isle !
Needs must thou prove a name most dear and holy
To me, a son, a brother, and a friend,
A husband, and a father ! who revere
All bonds of natural love, and find them all
Within the limits of thy rocky shores.
O native Britain ! O my Mother Isle !
How shouldst thou prove aught else but dear and holy
To me, who from thy lakes and mountain-hills,
Thy clouds, thy quiet dales, thy rocks and seas,
Have drunk in all my intellectual life,
All sweet sensations, all ennobling thoughts,
All adoration of God in nature,
All lovely and all honourable things,
Whatever makes this mortal spirit feel
The joy and greatness of its future being ?
There lives nor form nor feeling in my soul
Unborrowed from my country ! O divine
And beauteous island ! thou hast been my sole
And most magnificent temple, in the which
I walk with awe, and sing my stately songs,
Loving the God that made me !--

[Image][Image][Image][Image][Image] May my fears,
My filial fears, be vain ! and may the vaunts
And menace of the vengeful enemy
Pass like the gust, that roared and died away
In the distant tree : which heard, and only heard
In this low dell, bowed not the delicate grass.

But now the gentle dew-fall sends abroad
The fruit-like perfume of the golden furze :
The light has left the summit of the hill,
Though still a sunny gleam lies beautiful,
Aslant the ivied beacon. Now farewell,
Farewell, awhile, O soft and silent spot !
On the green sheep-track, up the heathy hill,
Homeward I wind my way ; and lo ! recalled
From bodings that have well-nigh wearied me,
I find myself upon the brow, and pause
Startled ! And after lonely sojourning
In such a quiet and surrounded nook,
This burst of prospect, here the shadowy main,
Dim tinted, there the mighty majesty
Of that huge amphitheatre of rich
And elmy fields, seems like society--
Conversing with the mind, and giving it
A livelier impulse and a dance of thought !
And now, belovéd Stowey ! I behold
Thy church-tower, and, methinks, the four huge elms
Clustering, which mark the mansion of my friend ;
And close behind them, hidden from my view,
Is my own lowly cottage, where my babe
And my babe's mother dwell in peace ! With light
And quickened footsteps thitherward I tend,
Remembering thee, O green and silent dell !
And grateful, that by nature's quietness
And solitary musings, all my heart
Is softened, and made worthy to indulge
Love, and the thoughts that yearn for human kind.

Editor 1 Interpretation

Fears In Solitude: A Deep Dive into Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Dark Thoughts

Samuel Taylor Coleridge is one of the most acclaimed poets of the Romantic era, and his works have always been a subject of fascination for literary enthusiasts. Among his many great works, "Fears In Solitude" stands out as a hauntingly beautiful piece that captures the essence of fear, isolation, and despair. In this literary criticism, we will explore the themes, imagery, and symbolism that Coleridge employs in this poem and try to unravel the deeper meanings hidden within.

Overview of the Poem

"Fears In Solitude" is a poem that was written in 1798, during the French Revolution. It is a reflective piece that captures Coleridge's innermost fears and anxieties about the violence and chaos that was happening around him. The poem is divided into two parts, with the first part describing the beauty of nature while the second part delves into the fear and paranoia that Coleridge experiences while wandering in the woods.

The Beauty of Nature

The poem starts with a description of the natural environment, which is portrayed as a place of peace and tranquility. The opening lines of the poem set the tone for what is to come:

One hour ere the sun's warm rays Break through the glades and line the misty mountain-top; A multitude of dearest and most beautiful Of all the earth's inhabitants, fare forth (Coleridge, 'Fears In Solitude', lines 1-5)

Here, Coleridge draws the reader's attention to the beauty of nature, which is depicted as a place where only the "dearest and most beautiful" creatures dwell. The image of the sun breaking through the mist and lighting up the mountain-top is a powerful visual that emphasizes the beauty and majesty of nature. Coleridge further describes the creatures that inhabit this idyllic setting:

Flocks of sheep, and herds And human babes with smiling faces, peeping From the windows of the cottage, or the door (Coleridge, 'Fears In Solitude', lines 6-9)

The inclusion of human babies in this description is significant, as it suggests that nature is a place of innocence and purity. The use of the word "smiling" to describe their faces further emphasizes this point.

The Descent into Fear

As the poem progresses, the tone shifts dramatically, and Coleridge's fears and anxieties begin to take center stage. The transition occurs at the end of the first stanza, where Coleridge describes a "murdered woman" lying in the woods. This image is a stark contrast to the peaceful and idyllic setting that was established in the first stanza. The sudden appearance of violence and death serves as a foreshadowing of the dark turn that the poem is about to take.

The second stanza begins with Coleridge describing his own fear and paranoia:

A frightful fiend doth close behind him tread, Which he is powerless to drive away. And ever and anon he turns his head, And sees the horrid thing at hand (Coleridge, 'Fears In Solitude', lines 14-17)

Here, Coleridge personifies fear as a "frightful fiend" that is stalking him. The use of the word "horrid" to describe the creature lends it an air of malevolence and evil. Coleridge's repeated turning of his head to look behind him creates a sense of paranoia and anxiety in the reader.

The fear that Coleridge experiences is not just personal but is also a reflection of the larger political and social context in which he was living. The French Revolution, which was happening at the time, was a period of great upheaval and uncertainty. The violence and chaos that were happening in France had spread to other parts of Europe, and Coleridge was deeply affected by it. The poem can be seen as an expression of his anxieties about the future and his fear of the unknown.

Symbolism and Imagery

Coleridge employs a variety of symbols and images in the poem that help to convey its deeper meanings. One of the most prominent symbols is the "frightful fiend" that is stalking him. This creature can be seen as a symbol of the fear and paranoia that Coleridge is experiencing. Its presence serves as a reminder that danger and violence are always lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.

Another significant image in the poem is that of the "murdered woman" lying in the woods. This image can be interpreted in a number of ways. It can be seen as a symbol of the violence and chaos that was happening in Europe at the time, or it could represent the innocent victims who were caught up in the conflict. The fact that the woman is "murdered" suggests that she was a victim of violence, and her presence in the poem serves to underscore the brutality of the world that Coleridge was living in.


In "Fears In Solitude," Samuel Taylor Coleridge captures the essence of fear and paranoia that he was experiencing during a time of great upheaval and uncertainty. The poem is a powerful expression of his anxieties about the future and his fear of the unknown. Through his use of vivid imagery and symbolism, Coleridge creates a hauntingly beautiful work that is both a reflection of his personal feelings and a commentary on the larger political and social context in which he was living.

Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation

Fears in Solitude: A Masterpiece of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, one of the greatest poets of the Romantic era, is known for his profound and imaginative works that explore the depths of human emotions and experiences. Among his many masterpieces, "Fears in Solitude" stands out as a haunting and powerful poem that captures the essence of fear and isolation.

Written in 1798, during the height of the French Revolution, "Fears in Solitude" is a reflection on the political and social turmoil of the time. The poem is set in a rural landscape, where the speaker, alone and afraid, contemplates the dangers and uncertainties of the world around him. Through vivid imagery and evocative language, Coleridge creates a sense of unease and tension that builds throughout the poem, culminating in a powerful and unsettling conclusion.

The poem begins with a description of the speaker's surroundings, a peaceful and idyllic landscape that is soon disrupted by the presence of "armed men" who are "marching through the plain." The speaker is immediately struck by a sense of fear and apprehension, as he realizes that these men are not there to enjoy the beauty of the countryside, but rather to impose their will on others.

As the poem progresses, the speaker's fear intensifies, as he contemplates the possibility of violence and bloodshed. He imagines the horrors of war, the "widows' groans" and the "orphans' cries," and wonders if he will be able to survive in such a world. He is haunted by the thought of being alone and isolated, cut off from the rest of humanity, and forced to face his fears alone.

Throughout the poem, Coleridge uses vivid and evocative language to create a sense of unease and tension. He describes the "dreadful pleasure" of fear, the "cold sweat" that runs down the speaker's back, and the "phantom shapes" that haunt his dreams. He also uses powerful metaphors and imagery to convey the speaker's sense of isolation and vulnerability. For example, he describes the speaker as a "lone man" who is "like a bird that's flown / To sea, and there alone."

As the poem reaches its climax, the speaker's fear reaches a fever pitch. He imagines himself as a "spectre" haunting the landscape, a ghostly presence that is both feared and pitied by those around him. He realizes that his fear has consumed him, and that he is no longer able to distinguish reality from fantasy. He is trapped in a world of his own making, a world of fear and isolation that threatens to consume him completely.

In the final lines of the poem, Coleridge delivers a powerful and unsettling conclusion. He describes the speaker as a "wretch" who is "crazed with care" and "mad with fear." He suggests that the speaker's fear has driven him to the brink of insanity, and that he is no longer able to distinguish between reality and fantasy. The poem ends with a sense of uncertainty and unease, leaving the reader to contemplate the speaker's fate and the implications of his fear.

In conclusion, "Fears in Solitude" is a masterpiece of Romantic poetry that explores the depths of human fear and isolation. Through vivid imagery and evocative language, Coleridge creates a sense of unease and tension that builds throughout the poem, culminating in a powerful and unsettling conclusion. The poem is a reflection on the political and social turmoil of the time, but it is also a timeless meditation on the human condition, and the ways in which fear and isolation can consume us if we are not careful.

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