"His sepulchral verse” (page 356, 1. 241).

If any English reader should be desirous of nowing how far I am justified in thus describing he epitaphs of Chiabrera, he will find translated pecimens of them on pp 573-6, under the head Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces."-W.

*This flowering broom's dear neighbourhood" (page 358).

In the course of this continental tour of 1837, Wordsworth was deeply impressed with the plendour and profusion of the flowering broom

the valleys and the more sheltered heights f the Apennines; and reluctantly owned the feriority of the English to the French variety I respect of both beauty and fragrance. The ote upon the Oxford movement which follows and which should properly be read at the conusion of this poem) was written, at the request the poet, by his friend Frederick Faber.-ED. It would be ungenerous not to advert to le religious movement that, since the compotion of these verses in 1837, has made itself felt, ore or less strongly, throughout the English hurch;-a movement that takes, for its first inciple, a devout deference to the voice of iristian antiquity. It is not my office to pass dgment on questions of theological detail; but y own repugnance to the spirit and system of manism has been so repeatedly and, I trust, elingly expressed, that I shall not be suspected a leaning that way, if I do not join in the ave charge, thrown out, perhaps in the heat of ntroversy, against the learned and pious men whose labours I allude. I speak apart from ntroversy; but, with strong faith in the moral mper which would elevate the present by doing verence to the past, I would draw cheerful guries for the English Church from this moveent, as likely to restore among us a tone of piety ore carnest and real than that produced by the ere formalities of the understanding, refusing, a degree which I cannot but lament, that its n temper and judgment shall be controlled by ose of antiquity.-W.

HE PINE OF MONTE MARIO (p. 358). Within a couple of hours of my arrival at

me, I saw from Monte Pincio, the Pine-tree as scribed in the sonnet; and, while expressing miration at the beauty of its appearance, I was id by an acquaintance of my fellow-traveller, 10 happened to join us at the moment, that a ice had been paid for it by the late Sir G. Beauont, upon condition that the proprietor should t act upon his known intention of cutting it wn.-W.

CAMALDOLI (page 363). This famous sanctuary was the originar estabhment of Saint Romualdo (or Rumwald, as our cestors saxonised the name), in the 11th cenry, the ground (campo) being given by a Count do. The Camaldolensi, however, have spread de as a branch of Benedictines, and may theree be classed among the gentlemen of the nastic orders. The society comprehends two lers, monks and hermits; symbolised by their ms, two doves drinking out of the same cup. ie monastery in which the monks here reside beautifully situated, but a large unattractive

edifice, not unlike a factory. The hermitage is placed in a loftier and wilder region of the forest. It comprehends between twenty and thirty distinct residences, each including for its single hermit an inclosed piece of ground and three very small apartments. There are days of indulgence when the hermit may quit his cell, and when old age arrives, he descends from the mountain and takes his abode among the monks.

My companion had in the year 1831 fallen in with the monk, the subject of these two sonnets, who showed him his abode among the hermits. It is from him that I received the following particulars. He was then about forty years of age, but his appearance was that of an older man. He had been a painter by profession, but on taking orders changed his name from Santi to Raffaelo, perhaps with an unconscious reference as well to the great Sanzio d'Urbino as to the archangel. He assured my friend that he had been thirteen years in the hermitage and had never known melancholy or ennui. In the little recess for study and prayer, there was a small collection of books. "I read only," said he, "books of asceticism and mystical theology." On being asked the names of the most famous mystics, he enumerated Scaramelli, San Gio vanni della Croce, Saint Dionysius the Areopagite (supposing the work which bears his name to be really his), and with peculiar emphasis Ricardo di San Vittori. The works of Saint Theresa are also in high repute among ascetics. These names may interest some of my readers.

We heard that Raffaelo was then living in the convent; my friend sought in vain to renew his acquaintance with him. It was probably a day of seclusion. The reader will perceive that these sonnets were supposed to be written when he was a young man.-W.

In justice to the Benedictines of Camaldoli, by whom strangers are so hospitably entertained, I feel obliged to notice that I saw among them no other figures at all resembling, in size and complexion, the two Monks described in this Sonnet. brought them to this place of mortification, which What was their office, or the motive which carried in this or some other way, a feeling of they could not have approached without being delicacy prevented me from enquiring. An account has before been given of the hermitage they were about to enter. It was visited by us towards the end of the month of May; yet snow was lying thick under the pine-trees, within a few yards of the gate.-W.

AT VALLOMBROSA (page 364).

The name of Milton is pleasingly connected with Vallombrosa in many ways. The pride with which the Monk, without any previous question from me, pointed out his residence, I shall not readily forget. It may be proper here to defend the Poet from a charge which has been brought against him, in respect to the passage in "Paradise Lost," where this place is mentioned. It is said, that he has erred in speaking of the trees there being deciduous, whereas they are, in fact, pines The fault-finders are themselves mistaken; the natural woods of the region of Vallombrosa are

deciduous, and spread to a great extent; those near the convent are, indeed, mostly pines; but they are avenues of trees planted within a few steps of each other, and thus composing large tracts of wood; plots of which are periodically cut down. The appearance of those narrow avenues, upon steep slopes open to the sky, on account of the height which the trees attain by being forced to grow upwards, is often very impressive. My guide, a boy of about fourteen years old, pointed this out to me in several places.-W.

-"more high, the Dacian force,

May I not venture, then, to hope, that, instest of being a hindrance, by anticipation of any pe of the subject, these Sonnets may rennd I Coleridge of his own more comprehensive desi and induce him to fulfil it?-There is a sy pathy in streams,-"one calleth to another and I would gladly believe, that "The Brook" will, ere long, murmur in concert with "T Duddon." But, asking pardon for this fancy. need not scruple to say, that those verses T indeed be ill-fated which can enter upon så pleasant walks of nature, without receiving s. giving inspiration. The power of waters T

THE RIVER DUDDON (page 875).

"The setting Sun displays
His visible great round, between yon towers,
As through two shady cliffs."

Mr. Crowe, in his excellent loco-descriptive Poem, "Lewesdon Hill," is still more expeditious, finishing the whole on a May-morning, before breakfast..

"To-morrow for severer thought, but now
To breakfast, and keep festival to-day."

No one believes, or is desired to believe, that those Poems were actually composed within such limits of time; nor was there any reason why a prose statement should acquaint the Reader with the plain fact, to the disturbance of poetic credibility. But, in the present case, I ain compelled to mention, that the above series of Sonnets was the growth of many years;-the one which stands the 14th was the first produced; and others were added upon occasional visits to the Stream, or as recollections of the scenes upon its banks awakened a wish to describe them. In this manner I had proceeded insensibly, without perceiving that I was trespassing upon ground preoccupied, at least as far as intention went, by Mr. Coleridge; who, more than twenty years ago, used to speak of writing a rural Poem, to be entitled "The Brook," of which he has given a sketch in a recent publication. But a particular subject, cannot, I think, much interfere with a general one; and I have been further kept from encroaching upon any right Mr. C. may still wish to exercise, by the restriction which the frame of the Sonnet imposed upon me, narrowing unavoidably the range of thought, and precluding, though not without its advantages, many graces to which a freer movement of verse would naturally have led.

i.e. the Welshman John Dyer (1699-1758), author of Grongar Hill (1726), a kind of descriptive ode in octosyllabic verse, and of the two didactic poems in Miltonic blank verse, entitled, The Ruins of Rome (1740) and The Fleece (1757). Lewesdon Hill, by the Rev. William Crowe, went through three editions between 1788 and 1804.-ED.

"The Muse nae Poet ever fand her, Till by himsel' he learned to wander, Adown some trotting burn's meander, AND NA' THINK LANG."-W.

"There bloomed the strawberry of the win

ness;

The trembling eyebright showed her sapph blue" (Sonnet VI., page 377).

These two lines are in a great measure take from "The Beauties of Spring, a Juvenile PC, by the Rev. Joseph Sympson. He was a nata Cumberland, and was educated in the ra Grasmere, and at Hawkshead school: his po are little known, but they contain passas splendid description; and the versification "Vision of Alfred" is harmonious and anima In describing the motions of the Sylphs that stitute the strange machinery of his Po uses the following illustrative simile

"Glancing from their plumes

A changeful light the azure vault illures.
Less varying hues beneath the Pole adom
The streamy glories of the Boreal morn.
That wavering to and fro their radiance d
On Bothnia's gulf with glassy ice o'ers res
Where the lone native, as he homeward eldes,
On polished sandals o'er the imprisoned tides,
And still the balance of his frame preserves.
Wheeled on alternate foot in lengthening cath
Sees at a glance, above him and below,
Two rival heavens with equal splendour d
Sphered in the centre of the world be seenus.
For all around with soft effulgence gleanss
Stars, moons, and meteors, ray opposed to
And solemn midnight pours the blaze of day

He was a man of ardent feeling, and his ties of mind, particularly his memory, extraordinary. Brief notices of his life ough find a place in the History of Westmore -W.

Sonnets XVII. and XVIII. (page B. The EAGLE requires a large douan fir support: but several pairs, not many years were constantly resident in this country, their nests in the steeps of Borrowdale, Wa Ennerdale, and on the eastern side of Ho Often have I heard anglers speak of the gr of their appearance, as they hovered over Tarn, in one of the coves of this mountain bird frequently returns, but is always de

fot long since, one visited Rydal lake, and relained some hours near its banks: the conternation which it occasioned among the differnt species of fowl, particularly the herons, was xpressed by loud screams. The horse also is aturally afraid of the eagle.-There were several toman stations among these mountains; the lost considerable seems to have been in a eadow at the head of Windermere, established, ndoubtedly, as a check over the Passes of Kirktone, Dunmail-raise, and of Hardknot and Wryose. On the margin of Rydal lake, a coin of rajan was discovered very lately.-The ROMAN 'ORT here alluded to, called by the country peole "Hardknot Castle," is most impressively tuated half-way down the hill on the right of he road that descends from Hardknot into Eskale. It has escaped the notice of most antiuarians, and is but slightly mentioned by Lysons. he DRUIDICAL CIRCLE is about half a mile to le left of the road ascending Stone-side from le vale of Duddon: the country people call it unken Church.

The reader who may have been interested in he foregoing Sonnets (which together may be onsidered as a Poem), will not be displeased to ad in this place a prose account of the Duddon, ttracted from Green's comprehensive “Guide to le Lakes," lately published. "The road leading om Coniston to Broughton is over high ground, ad commands a view of the river Duddon; hich, at high water, is a grand sight, having the autiful and fertile lands of Lancashire and umberland stretching each way from its margin. 1 this extensive view, the face of nature is dislayed in a wonderful variety of hill and dale; ooded grounds and buildings; amongst the tter Broughton Tower, seated on the crown of hill, rising elegantly from the valley, is an obet of extraordinary interest. Fertility on each de is gradually diminished, and lost in the supeor heights of Blackcomb, in Cumberland, and he high lands between Kirkby and Ulverstone." "The road from Broughton to Seathwaite is on he banks of the Duddon, and on its Lancashire de it is of various elevations. The river is an musing companion, one while brawling and ambling over rocky precipices, until the agitated ater becomes again calm by arriving at a noother and less precipitous bed, but its course soon again ruffled, and the current thrown into ery variety of foam which the rocky channel of river can give to water."-Vide Green's Guide the Lakes, vol. i. pp. 98-100.

After all, the traveller would be most gratified ho should approach this beautiful Stream, neiher at its source, as is done in the Sonnets, nor om its termination; but from Coniston over Walna Scar; first descending into a little ciralar valley, a collateral compartment of the -ng winding vale through which flows the Dudon. This recess, towards the close of September, hen the after-grass of the meadows is still of a esh green, with the leaves of many of the trees ded, but perhaps none fallen, is truly enchantg. At a point elevated enough to show the rious objects in the valley, and not so high as o diminish their importance, the stranger will stinctively halt. On the foreground, a little elow the most favourable station, a rude foot-idge is thrown over the bed of the noisy brook aming by the way-side. Russet and craggy

hills, of bold and varied outline, surround the level valley, which is besprinkled with grey rocks plumed with birch trees. A few homesteads are interspersed, in some places peeping out from among the rocks like hermitages, whose site has been chosen for the benefit of sunshine as well as shelter; in other instances, the dwelling-house, barn, and byre, compose together a cruciform structure, which, with its embowering trees, and the ivy clothing part of the walls and roof like a fleece, call to mind the remains of an ancient abbey. Time, in most cases, and nature everywhere, have given a sanctity to the humble works of man, that are scattered over this peaceful retirement. Hence a harmony of tone and colour, a consummation and perfection of beauty, which would have been marred had aim or purpose interfered with the course of convenience, utility, or necessity. This unvitiated region stands in no need of the veil of twilight to soften or disguise its features. As it glistens in the morning sunshine, it would fill the spectator's heart with gladsomeness. Looking from our chosen station, he would feel an impatience to rove among its pathways, to be greeted by the milkmaid, to wander from house to house, exchanging "goodmorrows" as he passed the open doors; but, at evening, when the sun is set, and a pearly light gleams from the western quarter of the sky, with an answering light from the smooth surface of the meadows; when the trees are dusky, but each kind still distinguishable; when the cool air has condensed the blue smoke rising from the cottage chimneys; when the dark mossy stones seem to sleep in the bed of the foaming brook; then, he would be unwilling to move forward, not less from a reluctance to relinquish what he beholds, than from an apprehension of disturbing, by his approach, the quietness beneath him. Issuing from the plain of this valley, the brook descends in a rapid torrent passing by the churchyard of Seathwaite. The traveller is thus conducted at once into the midst of the wild and beautiful scenery which gave occasion to the Sonnets from the 14th to the 20th inclusive. From the point where the Seathwaite brook joins the Duddon, is a view upwards, into the pass through which the river makes its way into the plain of Donnerdale. The perpendicular rock on the right bears the ancient British name of THE PEN; the one opposite is called WALLA-BARROW CRAG, a name that occurs in other places to designate rocks of the same character. The chaotic aspect of the scene is well marked by the expression of a stranger, who strolled out while dinner was preparing, and at his return, being asked by his host, What way he had been wandering?" replied, "As far as it is finished!"

The bed of the Duddon is here strewn with large fragments of rocks fallen from aloft; which, as Mr. Green truly says, "are happily adapted to the many-shaped waterfalls" (or rather waterbreaks, for none of them are high), "displayed in the short space of half a mile." That there is some hazard in frequenting these desolate places, I myself have had proof; for one night an immense mass of rock fell upon the very spot where, with a friend, I had lingered the day before. "The concussion," says Mr. Green, speaking of the event (for he also, in the practice of his art, on that day sat exposed for a still longer time to the same peril), "was heard, not without alarm,

by the neighbouring shepherds." But to return to Seathwaite Churchyard: it contains the following inscription:-

"In memory of the Reverend Robert Walker, who died the 25th of June, 1802, in the 93d year of his age, and 67th of his curacy at Seathwaite.

"Also, of Anne his wife, who died the 28th of January, in the 93d year of her age."

In the parish register of Seathwaite Chapel, is this notice:

"Buried, June 28th, the Rev. Robert Walker. He was curate of Seathwaite sixty-six years. He was a man singular for his temperance, industry, and integrity."

This individual is the Pastor alluded to, in the eighteenth Sonnet, as a worthy compeer of the country parson of Chaucer, &c. In the Seventh Book of the Excursion, an abstract of his character is given, beginning

"A Priest abides before whose life such doubts
Fall to the ground;-"

and some account of his life, for it is worthy of being recorded, will not be out of place here.

MEMOIR OF THE REV. ROBERT WALKER. IN the year 1709, Robert Walker was born at Under-crag, in Seathwaite; he was the youngest of twelve children. His eldest brother, who inherited the small family estate, died at Undercrag, aged ninety-four, being twenty-four years older than the subject of this Memoir, who was born of the same mother. Robert was a sickly infant; and, through his boyhood and youth, continuing to be of delicate frame and tender health, it was deemed best, according to the country phrase, to breed him a scholar; for it was not likely that he would be able to earn a livelihood by bodily labour. At that period few of these dales were furnished with school-houses; the children being taught to read and write in the chapel; and in the same consecrated building, where he officiated for so many years both as preacher and schoolmaster, he himself received the rudiments of his education. In his youth he became schoolmaster at Loweswater; not being called upon, probably, in that situation to teach more than reading, writing, and arithmetic. But, by the assistance of a "Gentleman," in the neighbourhood, he acquired, at leisure hours, a knowledge of the classics, and became qualified for taking holy orders. Upon his ordination, he had the offer of two curacies: the one, Torver, in the vale of Coniston,-the other, Seathwaite, in his native vale. The value of each was the same, viz. five pounds per annum: but the cure of Seathwaite having a cottage attached to it, as he wished to marry, he chose it in preference. The young person on whom his affections were fixed, though in the condition of a domestic servant, had given promise, by her serious and modest deportment, and by her virtuous dispositions, that she was worthy to become the helpmate of a man entering upon a plan of life such as he had marked out for himself. By her frugality she had stored up a small sum of money, with which they began housekeeping. In 1735 or 1736, he entered upon his curacy; and, nineteen years afterwards, his situation is thus described, in some letters to be found in the Annual Register for 1760, from which the following is extracted:

"SIR,

To Mr.-.
"CONISTON, July 26, 1754

"I was the other day upon a party of pleasur about five or six miles from this place, when ! met with a very striking object, and of a nate? not very common. Going into a clergyman? house (of whom I had frequently heard), I for. him sitting at the head of a long square tabz such as is commonly used in this country by the lower class of people, dressed in a coarse th frock, trimmed with black horn buttons; a checked shirt, a leathern strap about his nedr a stock, a coarse apron, and a pair of wooden-soled shoes plated with iron to preservi them (what we call clogs in these parts, with a child upon his knee, eating his breakfast; ts wife, and the remainder of his children, wer some of them employed in waiting upon eac other, the rest in teazing and spinning wool, si which trade he is a great proficient; and Lo over, when it is made ready for sale, will lay by sixteen or thirty-two pounds' weight, upbe back, and on foot, seven or eight miles, will carry it to the market, even in the depth of winter. 1 was not much surprised at all this, as you m possibly be, having heard a great deal of tr lated before. But I must confess myself se nished with the alacrity and the good bus that appeared both in the clergyman a wife, and more so at the sense and ingenuity the clergyman himself."

Then follows a letter from another pe dated 1755, from which an extract shall be che "By his frugality and good management keeps the wolf from the door, as we say; sal he advances a little in the world, it is owing m to his own care, than to anything else he has v rely upon. I don't find his inclination is ru after further preferment. He is settled ames the people, that are happy among themse and lives in the greatest unanimity and fra ship with them; and, I believe, the minister people are exceedingly satisfied with each e and indeed how should they be dissatisfied w they have a person of so much worth and pro for their pastor? A man who, for his cander and meekness, his sober, chaste, and virt conversation, his soundness in principle and po tice, is an ornament to his profession, and honour to the country he is in; and bear v me if I say, the plainness of his dress, the s tity of his manners, the simplicity of his doct and the vehemence of his expression, have a of resemblance to the pure practice of prin Christianity."

We will now give his own account of hims to be found in the same place.

FROM THE REV. ROBERT WALKER "SIR,-Yours of the 26th instant was commIS cated to me by Mr. C-, and I should ba returned an immediate answer, but the ha Providence, then laying heavy upon an an pledge of conjugal endearment, hath since tabs from me a promising girl, which the discosemother too pensively laments the loss of; th we have yet eight living, all healthful, b children, whose names and ages are as foll Zaccheus, aged almost eighteen years; Ela sixteen years and ten months; Mary,

doses, thirteen years and three months; Sarah, en years and three months; Mabel, eight years nd three months; William Tyson, three years nd eight months; and Anne Esther, one year nd three months; besides Anne, who died two ears and six months ago, and was then aged etween nine and ten; and Eleanor, who died he 23rd inst., January, aged six years and ten onths. Zaccheus, the eldest child, is now learnng the trade of tanner, and has two years and half of his apprenticeship to serve. The annual acome of my chapel at present, as near as I can ompute it, may amount to about £17, of which paid in cash, viz. £5 from the bounty of Queen nne, and £5 from W. P., Esq., of P, out of he annual rents, he being lord of the manor, and 3 from the several inhabitants of L, settled pon the tenements as a rent-charge; the house nd gardens I value at £4 yearly, and not worth lore; and I believe the surplice fees and volunry contributions, one year with another, may e worth £3; but as the inhabitants are few in umber, and the fees very low, this last-mentioned im consists merely in free-will offerings.

"I am situated greatly to my satisfaction with gard to the conduct and behaviour of my audiry, who not only live in the happy ignorance of e follies and vices of the age, but in mutual eace and goodwill with one another, and are emingly (I hope really too) sincere Christians, nd sound members of the established church, ot one dissenter of any denomination being mongst them all. I got to the value of £40 for y wife's fortune, but had no real estate of my wn, being the youngest son of twelve children, born f obscure parents; and, though my income has een but small, and my family large, yet, by a rovidential blessing upon my own diligent eneavours, the kindness of friends, and a cheap ountry to live in, we have always had the neces uries of life. By what I have written (which is a rue and exact account, to the best of my knowdge,) I hope you will not think your favour to le, out of the late worthy Dr. Stratford's effects, uite misbestowed, for which I must ever grateilly own myself,

"Şir,

"Your much obliged and most obedient humble Servant,

"R. W., Curate of S

"To Mr. C., of Lancaster." About the time when this letter was written, he Bishop of Chester recommended the scheme fjoining the curacy of Ulpha to the contiguous ne of Seathwaite, and the nomination was fered to Mr. Walker; but an unexpected diffiulty arising, Mr. W, n a letter to the Bishop, a copy of which, in his own beautiful handriting, now lies before me,) thus expresses himelf. If he," meaning the person in whom the ifficulty originated, "had suggested any such bjection before, I should utterly have declined ny attempt to the curacy of Ulpha: indeed, I vas always apprehensive it might be disagreeable o my auditory at Seathwaite, as they have been dways accustomed to double duty, and the inabitants of Ulpha despair of being able to upport a schoolmaster who is not curate there so; which suppressed all thoughts in me of serving them both." And in a second letter to Che Bishop he writes:

"MY LORD, I have the favour of yours of the 1st instant, and am exceedingly obliged on account of the Ulpha affair: if that curacy should lapse into your Lordship's hands, I would beg leave rather to decline than embrace it; for the chapels of Seathwaite and Ulpha, annexed together, would be apt to cause a general discontent among the inhabitants of both places; by either thinking themselves slighted, being only served alternately, or neglected in the duty, or attributing it to covetousness in me; all which occasions of murmuring I would willingly avoid." And in concluding his former letter, he expresses a similar sentiment upon the same occasion, " desiring, if it be possible, however, as much as in me lieth, to live peaceably with all men."

The year following, the curacy of Seathwaite was again augmented; and, to effect this augmentation, fifty pounds had been advanced by himself; and, in 1760, lands were purchased with eight hundred pounds. Scanty as was his income, the frequent offer of much better benefices could not tempt Mr. W. to quit a situation where he being useful. Among his papers I find the fol had been so long happy, with a consciousness of lowing copy of a letter, dated 1775, twenty years after his refusal of the curacy of Ulpha, which

will show what exertions had been made for one of his sons.

"MAY IT PLEASE YOUR GRACE,

"Our remote situation here makes it difficult to get the necessary information for transacting business regularly; such is the reason of my giving your Grace the present trouble.

"The bearer (my son) is desirous of offering himself candidate for deacon's orders at your Grace's ensuing ordination; the first, on the 25th instant, so that his papers could not be transmitted in due time. As he is now fully at age, and I have afforded him education to the utmost of my ability, it would give me great satisfaction (if your Grace would take him, and find him qualified) to have him ordained. His constitution has been tender for some years; he entered the college of Dublin, but his health would not permit him to continue there, or I would have supported him much longer. He has been with me at home above a year, in which time he has gained great strength of body, sufficient, I hope, to enable him for performing the function Divine Providence, assisted by liberal benefactors, has blest my endeavours, from a small income, to rear a numerous family; and as my time of life renders me now unfit for much future expectancy from this world, I should be glad to see my son settled in a promising way to acquire an honest livelihood for himself. His behaviour, so far in life, has been irreproachable; and I hope he will not degenerate, in principles or practice, from the precepts and pattern of an indulgent parent. Your Grace's favourable reception of this, from a distant corner of the diocese, and an obscure hand, will excite filial gratitude, and a due use shall be made of the obligation vouchsafed there by to

"Your Grace's very dutiful and most obedient "Son and Servant,

"ROBERT WALKER."