is retained, the fact is implied of my knowledge of their having told an untruth. It is not to be denied that I have aimed at giving more eloquence and dignity to this poem, partly on its own account, and partly that it might harmonise better with the one appended to it. I thought I had succeeded in my attempt better than, it seems, I have done. You will observe that in any meditated alteration of the first stanza, which I should be very thankful if you would do for me, the word head cannot be used, on account of head those ancient Amazonian files' in the stanza below.

The Blind Highland Boy.

The shell was substituted for the washing-tub, on the suggestion of Coleridge; and greatly as I respect your opinion and Lamb's, I cannot now bring myself to undo my work, though if I had been aware beforehand that such judges would have objected, I should not have troubled myself with making the alteration. I met the other day with a pretty picture of hazardous navigation like this. I think it is on the coast of Madras, where people are described as trusting themselves to the rough waves on small rafts, in such a way that the flat raft being hidden from view by the billows, the navigator appears to be sitting on the bare waters.

Rural Architecture.

'From the meadows of Armath,' etc. My sister objected so strongly to this alteration at the time, that, her judgment being confirmed by yours, the old reading may be restored.

Pedestrian Tour among the Alps.

No more along thy vales and viney groves,
Whole hamlets disappearing as he moves,

With cheeks o'erspread by smiles of baneful glow,
On his pale horse shall fell Consumption go.

I had utterly forgotten this passage: at all events, as a bold juvenile thing it might be restored. I suppose I must have written it, from its being applied here, in my mind, not to an individual but to a people.

Ruth.

And there exulting in her wrongs,

Among the music of her songs,

She fearfully caroused.

This was altered, Lamb having observed that it was not English. I liked it better myself; but certainly to carouse cups'—that is, to empty them-is the genuine English.

The Sailor's Mother.

And thus continuing she said,
I had a son, who many a day
Sailed on the seas.

These last words shall be restored. I suppose I had objected to the first line, which, it must be allowed, is rather flat.

He to a fellow-lodger's care

Had left it to be watched and fed

Till he came back again.

Than this last line, I own,

And pipe its song in safety

strikes me as better, because from the bodings of his mind' he feared he should not come back again. He might dramatically have said to his fellow-lodger: "Take care of this bird till I come back again,' not liking to own to another, or to himself even, in words, that he feared he should not return, but as he is not introduced here speaking, it is (I think) better, and brings in a pretty image of the bird singing, when its master might be in peril, or no more.

The Emigrant Mother.

Smiles hast thou, bright ones of thy own;

I cannot keep thee in my arms;
For they confound me. As it is,

I have forgot those smiles of his.

Coleridge objected to the last two lines, for which is substituted

By those bewildering glances crost,

In which the light of his is lost.

The alteration ought, in my judgment, to be retained.

The Idiot Boy.

'Across the saddle' is much better. So 'up towards' instead of up upon' in Michael.

The Green Linnet.

A brother of the leaves he seems

may be thus retained :

My sight he dazzles-nay deceives :
He seems a brother of the leaves.

The stanza, as you have been accustomed to quote it, is very faulty. Forth he teems' is a provincialism; Dr. Johnson says 'a low word, when used in this sense.' But my main motive for altering this stanza was the wholly unjustifiable use of the word train, as applied to leaves attached to a tree. A train of withered leaves, driven in the wind along the gravel, as I have often seen them, sparkling in April sunshine, might be said. Did feign' is also an awkward expletive for an elegant poem, as this is generally allowed to be.

To the Small Celandine.

'Old Magellan' shall be restored.

To the Daisy.

Thou wander'st the wide world about, etc.

I was loath to part with this stanza. It may either be restored, or printed at the end of a volume, among notes and variations, when you edit the fifteenth edition.

To a Skylark.

After having succeeded so well in the second 'Skylark' and in the conclusion of the poem entitled 'A Morning Exercise,' in my notice of this bird, I became indifferent to this poem, which Coleridge used severely to condemn, and to treat contemptuously. I like, however, the beginning of it so well, that for the sake of that I tacked to it the respectably-tame conclusion. I have no objection, as you have been pleased with it, to restore the whole piece. Could you improve it a little ?

Restore this.

To the Cuckoo.

At once far off and near.

The alteration was made in consequence of my noticing one day that the voice of a cuckoo, which I had heard from a tree at a great distance, did not seem any louder when I approached the tree.

Gipsies.

The concluding apology shall be cancelled. Goings on ' is precisely the word wanted; but it makes a weak and apparently prosaic line, so near the end of a poem. I fear it cannot be altered, as the rhyme must be retained, on account of the concluding verse.

In the second Cuckoo I was displeased with the existing alteration, and in my copy have written in pencil thus:

Such rebounds our inward ear
Often catches from afar ;
Listen, ponder, etc.,

restoring 'Listen, ponder,' as you wish. The word rebounds' I wish much to introduce here; for the imaginative warning turns upon the echo, which ought to be revived as near the conclusion as possible.

Peele Castle in a Storm.

The light that never was on sea or land

shall be restored. I need not trouble you with the reasons that put me upon the alteration.

The passages in Peter Bell were altered out of deference to the opinions of others. You say little is a word of endearment. I meant little mulish as contemptuous. Spiteful, I fear, would scarcely be understood without your anecdote.

Is it a party in a parlour,

Cramm'd just as they on earth were cramm'd?

Some sipping punch, some sipping tea,

But as you by their faces see,

All silent, and all damn'd.

This stanza I omitted-though one of the most imaginative in the whole piece-not to offend the pious.

The Excursion, edition of 1827.

And make the vessel of the big round year.

(P. 364.)

I know there is such a line as this somewhere, but for the

life of me I cannot tell where.

* The poem he called The Echo. See vol. iv. p. 18.