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We have winning wiles and witcheries,
Such incantations as thy sterner wit
Did never dream of. Time hath been ere now
That Jove hath listen'd to our minstrelsy.
Till wrath would seem to drop out of his soul
Like a forgotten thing.

— Hartley Coleridge Poems (1851)

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More quotes by Hartley Coleridge

The soul of man is larger than the sky,
Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark
Of the unfathomed center.

Poems (1851)

Rising now, anon descending,
Swift and bright as shooting stars,
Thus we travel glad and free.

Poems (1851)

He grew, and grew,
A star-bright sign of fated empery;
And all conspiring omens led him on
To lofty purpose and pre-eminence.

Poems (1851)

Jove is not one half so merciless
As thou art to thyself. But fare thee well;
Our love is all as stubborn as thy pride,
And swift as firm.

Poems (1851)

The glad sons of the deliver'd earth
Shall yearly raise their multitudinous voice,
Hymning great Jove, the God of Liberty!

Poems (1851)

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Hartley Coleridge (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.