And so back she has gone, and I believe nothing will ever tempt her from the wind-swept Orcades again.'

Next day they all proceeded together up the Teviot to Hawick, Scott entertaining his friends with some legend or ballad connected with every tower or rock they passed. He made them stop for a little to admire particularly a scene of deep and solemn retirement, called Horne's Pool from its having been the daily haunt of a contemplative schoolmaster known to him in his youth; and at Kirkton he pointed out the little village schoolhouse to which his friend Leyden had walked six or eight miles every day across the moors 'when a poor barefooted boy.' From Hawick, where they spent the night, he led them next morning to the brow of a hill, from which they could see a wide range of the border mountains, Ruberslaw, the Carter, and the Cheviots; and lamented that neither their engagements nor his own would permit them to make at this time an excursion into the wilder glens of Liddesdale, 'where,' said he, I have strolled so often and so long, that I may say I have a home in every farm house.' 'And indeed,' adds Mr Wordsworth, wherever we went with him, he seemed to know everybody, and everybody to know and like him.' Here they parted-the Wordsworths to pursue their journey homeward by Eskdale-he to return to Lasswade." *

On the 16th of January, 1805, Wordsworth wrote to Scott from Grasmere, urging him to come and visit the Lake Country. He said—

"If you come next summer Southey will almost certainly be at Keswick, and I hope Coleridge also; although it will be the duty of all his friends to do their utmost in forcing him from the country, to which he is so much attached, but

* Lockhart's Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Vol. ii., pp. 160-164.

the rainy climate disagrees with him miserably. When Coleridge has found out a residence better suited to his state of health, we shall remove and settle near him. I mention these things that you may be prevailed upon to come and see us here, while we are yet such near neighbours of yours, and inhabitants of a country, the more retired beauties of which we can lead you to better than anybody else.

I am very glad to hear of your farm on Tweedside. You will be quite in the district of your own most interesting local feelings, a charming country besides; and I was not a little glad it brought you so much nearer to us, instead of removing you so much further away from us. I sincerely wish you fortune in your farming labours, good crops, thriving cattle, and little vexation.

On the other side you will find a few stanzas, which I hope (for the subject at least) will give you some pleasure.* I wrote them, not without a view of pleasing you, soon after our return from Scotland, though I have been too lazy to send them to you till now. They are in the same sort of metre as the Leader Haughs, and I have borrowed the name Burn-mill meadow from that poem, for which I wish you would substitute something that may really be found in the Vale of Yarrow. . . Believe me, your sincere friend, W. WORDSWORTH."

On the 7th of March 1805 Wordsworth wrote to Scott, on his sister's receiving from him a copy of The Lay of the Last Minstrel :

"DEAR SCOTT,-We have at last received your poem, for which my sister returns you her sincere thanks. High as our expectations were, I have the pleasure to say that

* Yarrow Revisited.

the poem has surpassed them much.

We think you have

completely attained your object. The book is throughout interesting and entertaining, and the picture of manners as lively as possible."

In the autumn of 1805, Walter Scott and his wife visited the Wordsworths at Dove Cottage; and during the visit, Wordsworth and Scott, accompanied by Humphry Davy, ascended Helvellyn-an expedition often afterwards referred to. In the Musings near Aquapendente, written during the Italian tour of 1837, he thought of

Old Helvellyn's brow

Where once together, in his day of strength,
We stood rejoicing, as if earth were free
From sorrow, like the sky above our heads.

Scott was in one of his raciest moods, overflowing with mirth and anecdote.

Shortly afterwards, Wordsworth wrote the following letter to Sir Walter, on the literary work which the latter had. undertaken, viz., an edition of Dryden. The letter contains Wordsworth's critical opinion on many points besides the merits of Dryden.

MY DEAR SCOTT,-.

"PATERDALE, November 7, 1805. Your letter was very wel

come. I am not apt to haunt myself with fears of accident from flood and field, &c. It was nevertheless pleasant to hear that you had got home well. . . . I often think with delight of the few days you were with us, and live in hope that we may enjoy something of the same kind at some future period. I should like exceedingly to meet you somewhere next summer, either here or in your own country, or both; and certainly (if an engagement, under which I am at present partly bound, does not take place) shall do so,

provided you have as much leisure and inclination as I. I long much to see more of Scotland, both north and south. It is (not excepting the Alps) the most poetical country I ever travelled through.

Like you, I had been sadly disappointed with Todd's Spenser; not with the Life, which I think has a sufficient share of merit, though the matter is badly put together; but three parts of four of the notes are absolute trash. That style of compiling notes ought to be put an end to. I was much pleased to hear of your engagement with Dryden; not that he is, as a poet, any great favourite of mine. I admire his talents and genius highly, but his is not a poetical genius. The only qualities I can find in Dryden that are essentially poetical, are a certain ardour and impetuosity of mind with an excellent ear. It may seem strange that I do not add to this great command of language; that he certainly has, and of such language too, as it is most desirable that a poet should possess, or rather, that he should not be without. But it is not language that is, in the highest sense of the word, poetical, being neither of the imagination nor of the passions-I mean of the amiable, the ennobling, or intense passions. I do not mean to say that there is nothing of this in Dryden, but as little, I think, as is possible, considering how much he has written. You will easily understand my meaning, when I refer to his versification of Palamon and Arcite, as contrasted with the language of Chaucer. Dryden has neither a tender heart, nor a lofty sense of moral dignity. Whenever his language is poetically impassioned, it is mostly upon unpleasing subjects, such as the follies, vices, and crimes of classes of men, or of individuals. That his cannot be the language of imagination, must have necessarily followed from this; that there is not a single image from nature in the whole body of his works; and in his translation from

Virgil, whenever Virgil can be fairly said to have his eye upon his object, Dryden always soils the passage.

But too much of this; I am glad that you are to be his editor. His political and satirical pieces may be greatly benefited by illustration, and even absolutely require it. I have read Dryden's works (all but his plays) with great attention, but my observations refer entirely to matters of taste. Things of this kind appear better anywhere than when tagged to a poet's works, where they are absolute impertinences. In the beginning of the Absalom you find an allusion to a freak or revel of the Duke of Monmouth of rather a serious kind. This I remember is mentioned in Andrew Marvel's poem, which I have not seen these many years; but that I think you might peep into with advantage for your work. One or two of the Prologues may be illustrated from Cibber's Apology. A correct text is the first object of an editor; then such notes as explain difficult or unintelligible passages, or throw light upon them; and lastly, which is of much less importance, notes pointing out passages or authors to whom the poet has been indebted, not in the paddling way of a phrase here and phrase there (which is detestable as a general practice), but where the poet has had essential obligations as to matter or manner.

Let me hear from you as soon as convenient. be of any use, do not fail to apply to me.

If I can

One thing

I may take the liberty to suggest, which is, when you come to the Fables, might it not be advisable to print the whole of the Tales of Boccaccio in a smaller type in the original language? If this should look too much like swelling a book, I should certainly make such extracts as would show where Dryden had most strikingly improved upon, or fallen below, his original. I think his translations from Boccaccio are the best, at least the most poetical, of his poems. It is many years since I saw Boccaccio, but I