eyes. Yet this is easily explained. In one of his poetical effusions he speaks of describing "fair Nature's face," as a privilege on which he sets a high value; nevertheless, natural appearances rarely take a lead in his poetry. It is as a human being, eminently sensitive and intelligent, and not as a poet clad in his priestly robes and carrying the ensigns of sacerdotal office, that he interests and affects us.

'Whether he speaks of rivers, hills, and woods, it is not so much on account of the properties with which they are absolutely endowed, as relatively to local patriotic remembrances and associations, or as they are ministerial to personal feelings, especially those of love, whether happy or otherwise; yet it is not always so. Soon after we passed Mosgiel Farm we crossed the Ayr, murmuring and winding through a narrow woody hollow. His line,

"Auld hermit Ayr staw' through his woods,"

came at once to my mind, with Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, and Doon, Ayrshire streams over which he breathes a sigh, as being unnamed in song; and, surely, his own attempts to make them known were as successful as his heart could desire.'

On the sonnet entitled 'Nunnery,' he said, 'I became acquainted with the walks of Nunnery when a boy. They are within easy reach of a day's pleasant excursion from the town of Penrith, where I used to pass my summer holidays under the roof of my maternal grandfather. The place is well worth visiting, though within these few years its privacy, and therefore the pleasure which the scene is so well fitted to give, has been injuriously affected by walks cut in the rocks on that side the stream which had been left in its natural state."

16

'Staw,' i. e. stole.

2 Vol. iv. p. 170.

The tourists turned to the south-west from Penrith, and returned home by Ullswater, the banks of which are the scene of the Somnambulist.' 1

6

'This poem,' said Mr. W., might be dedicated to my friend Sir G. Beaumont and Mr. Rogers jointly. While we were making an excursion together in this part of the Lake District, we heard that Mr. Glover the artist, while lodging at Lyulph's Tower, had been disturbed by a loud shriek, and upon rising he learnt that it had come from a young woman in the house who was in the habit of walking in her sleep. In that state she had gone down stairs, and, while attempting to open the outer door, either from some difficulty, or the effect of the cold stone upon her feet, had uttered the cry which alarmed him. It seemed to us all that this might serve as a hint for a poem, and the story here told was constructed, and soon after put into verse by me as it now stands.'

One of the concluding sonnets belongs to the same neighbourhood

'Not in the mines beyond the western main,

You say, CORDELIA, was the metal sought; ' 2

and is a record of the Poet's affection for one of the inmates of the hospitable mansion of Hallsteads, a family with whom Mr. Wordsworth, and his wife, sister, and daughter, were long united by the ties of a very near and dear friendship.

1 Vol. iv. p. 173.

2 Vol. iv. p. 178.

In the present volume '1 (that is, his "Yarrow Revisited,") says Mr. Wordsworth, as in the author's previous poems,

6

1 Postscript, vol. v. p. 250. In this postscript, which stands at p. 323 of the volume 'Yarrow Revisited,' &c., Mr. Wordsworth has expressed his opinion more in detail on certain questions of civil and ecclesiastical polity.*

* [It is of this 'Postscript' that the daughter of Coleridge has lately said 'After framing the above attempt at proving that justice is embodied in the principle of a Poor Law by the reciprocation of rights and duties, and the interchange of benefits, since the poor man out of work is only by accident, and for a given time, out of the condition of contributing his services to the commonwealth, I found, to my delight, the argument which had possession of my mind,· the same argument in substance, - more forcibly stated by Mr. Wordsworth in the fine discourse of economical polity, which is placed at the end of his Yarrow volume. Because Mr. Wordsworth is a great Poet, the misjudging many sin(I do not speak of thoughtful men) take it for granted, that he is no more to be consulted or put faith in, on such a subject as political economy, than a lion is to be sent to market with panniers on his back, like old Dobbin. The essay of which I have spoken, and which appears under the unassuming title of "Postscript," if divided and expanded, would suffice to create a reputation for a new and unknown writer. Like the many-branched oak of ages, Mr Wordsworth overshadows himself, in part, with himself. In common with most great writers, he is not to be taken

it

1

the reader will have found occasionally opinions expressed

upon the course of public affairs, and feelings given vent to, as national interests excited them.'

The greater portion of that volume was written in the eventful period of the years 1830-1834, when a revolutionary tempest, let loose from France, was sweeping over Europe; and when England was passing through the throes of agitation produced by the discussion of the Reform Bill.

In the Poet's own words, these his effusions were poured forth at a time, when

'every day brought with it tidings new,

Of rash change, ominous for the public weal.'

These poems were composed under the impulse of strong feelings of patriotism and philanthropy. Solicitous for the peace, honour, and prosperity of his country, and of society at large, and writing under the inspiration of alarm aggravated by his own reminiscences of the horrors perpetrated before his own eyes, in the sacred name of Liberty and Reason, in revolutionary France, at the close of the last century, he craves indulgence and forgiveness.

'If dejection have too oft encroached

Upon that sweet and tender melancholy

Which may, itself, be cherished and caressed
More than enough.'

in during one course of study; for the individual student one set of his productions postpones, if it does not prevent, the knowledge of another set. But I allude to that study whereby we receive a poet's heart and mind into our own, not to mere ordinary reading.' See Introductory Sections' (No. 1x.) by Mrs. H. N. Coleridge, in 'Essays on His own Times, by S. T. Coleridge, edited by his Daughter, 1850.' Vol. 1. p. 62.-H. R.]

1 Vol. iii. p. 238.

His feelings at this time may be gathered from his communications to his friends. The following, written in 1831, will be read with interest. It is a reply to a much valued friend, the Rev. J. K. Miller, vicar of Walkeringham, who, together with some other correspondents, particularly the late revered and lamented Hugh James Rose, had urged Mr. Wordsworth to exercise those powers, in writing on public affairs, which he had displayed twenty years before, in his Essay on the Convention of Cintra.'

'My dear Sir,

'Rydal Mount, Kendal, Dec. 17, 1831.

You have imputed my silence, I trust, to some cause neither disagreeable to yourself nor unworthy of me. Your letter of the 26th of Nov. had been misdirected to Penrith, where the postmaster detained it some time, expecting probably that I should come to that place, which I have often occasion to visit. When it reached me I was engaged in assisting my wife to make out some of my mangled and almost illegible MSS., which inevitably involved me in endeavours to correct and improve them. My eyes are subject to frequent inflammations, of which I had an attack (and am still suffering from it) while that was going on. You would nevertheless have heard from me almost as soon as I received your letter, could I have replied to it in terms in any degree accordant to my wishes. Your exhortations troubled me in a way you cannot be in the least aware of; for I have been repeatedly urged by some of my most valued friends, and at times by my own conscience, to undertake the task you have set before me. But I will deal frankly with you. A conviction of my incompetence to do justice to the momentous subject has kept me, and I fear will keep me, silent. My sixty-second year will soon be completed,