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those of our own country. Scarcely a page of the impassioned parts of Bishop Taylor's Works can be opened that shall not afford examples. Referring the reader to those inestimable volumes, I will content myself with placing a conceit (ascribed to Lord Chesterfield) in contrast with a passage from the "Paradise Lost;" "The dews of the evening most carefully shun,

They are the tears of the sky for the loss of the sun."

After the transgression of Adam, Milton, with other appearances of sympathizing Nature, thus marks the immediate consequence, "Sky lowered, and muttering thunder, some sad drops Wept at completion of the mortal sin."

The associating link is the same in each instance;-dew or rain, not distinguishable from the liquid substance of tears, are enployed as indications of sorrow. A flash of surprise is the effect in the former case-a flash of surprise and nothing more; for the nature of things does not sustain the combination. In the latter, the effects of the act, of which there is this immediate consequence and visible sign, are so momentous that the mind acknowledges the justice and reasonableness of the sympathy in Nature so manifested; and the sky weeps drops of water as if with human eyes, as "Earth had, before, trembled from her entrails, and Nature given a second groan."

Awe-stricken as I am by contemplating the operations of the mind of this truly divine Poet, I scarcely dare venture to add that " An address to an infant," which the reader will find under the class of Fancy in the present volumes, exhibits something of this communion and interchange of instruments and functions between the two powers; and is, accordingly, placed last in the class, as a preparation for that of Imagination which follows.

Finally, I will refer to Cotton's "Ode upon Winter," an admirable composition, though stained with some peculiarities of the age in which he lived, for a general illustration of the characteristics of Fancy. The middle part of this ode contains a most lively description of the entrance of Winter, with his retinue, as "A palsied king," and yet a military monarch,-advancing for conquest with his army; the several bodies of which, and their arms and equipments, are described with a rapidity of detail, and a profusion of fanciful comparisons, which indicate on the part of the poet extreme activity of intellect, and a correspondent hurry of delightful feeling. He retires from the foe into his fortress, where

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Then let the chill Scirocco blow,

And gird us round with hills of snow,
Or else go whistle to the shore,
And make the hollow mountains roar.

Whilst we together jovial sit

Careless, and crowned with mirth and wit:
Where, though bleak winds confine us home,
Our fancies round the world shall roam.
We'll think of all the Friends we know,
And drink to all worth drinking to;
When having drunk all thine and mine,
We rather shall want healths than wine.
But where Friends fail us, we'll supply
Our friendships with our charity;
Men that remote in sorrows live,
Shall by our lusty Brimmers thrive.

We'll drink the Wanting into wealth.
And those that Languish into health,
The Afflicted into joy th' Opprest
Into security and rest.

The Worthy in disgrace shall find
Favour return again more kind,
And in restraint who stifled lie,
Shall taste the air of liberty.

The Brave shall triumph in success,
The Lovers shall have Mistresses,
Poor unregarded Virtue, praise,
And the neglected Poet, bays.

Thus shall our healths do others good,
Whilst we ourselves do all we would;
For, freed from envy and from care,

What would we be but what we are?"

When I sat down to write this preface was my intention to have made it more comprehensive; but as all that I deem neces sary is expressed, I will detain the reader no longer.

W. W




DEAR native regions, I foretell

From what I feel at this farewell,

That, wheresoe'er my steps shall tend,

And whensoe'er my course shall end,
If in that hour a single tie
Survive of local sympathy,

My soul will cast the backward view,
The longing look alone on you.

Thus, when the sun, prepared for rest,
Hath gained the precincts of the west,
Though his departing radiance fail
To illuminate the hollow vale,

A lingering light he fondly throws

On the dear mountain-tops where first he rose.


CALM is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass,

Is cropping audibly his later meal:
Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal
O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky.
Now, in this blank of things, a harmony,
Home-felt, and home-created, comes to heal
That grief for which the senses still supply
Fresh food; for only then, when memory
Is hushed, am I at rest. My friends! restrain
Those busy cares that would allay my pain;
Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel

The officious touch that makes me droop again.



General Sketch of the Lakes-Author's regret of his youth which was passed amongst them-Short description of Noon-Cascade-Noon-tide Retreat-Preci pice and sloping Lights-Face of Nature as the Sun declines-Mountain-farm, and the Cock-Slate-quarry-Sunset-Superstition of the Country connected with that moment-Swans-Female Beggar-Twilight sounds-Western Lights


FAR from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove

Through bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove;
His wizard course where hoary Derwent takes,
Thro' crags and forest glooms and opening lakes,
Staying his silent waves, to hear the roar

That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore;
Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads,
To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads;
Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds,
Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland bounds;
Where, bosom'd deep, the shy Winander* peeps
'Mid clustering isles, and holly-sprinkled steeps;
Where twilight glens endear my Esthwaite's shore,
And memory of departed pleasures, more.

Fair scenes, erewhile, I taught, a happy child,
The echoes of your rocks my carols wild:
Then did no ebb of cheerfulness demand
Sad tides of joy from melancholy's hand,

In youth's wild eye the livelong day was bright,
The sun at morning, and the stars at night,
Alike, when first the vales the bittern fills

Or the first woodcocks† roamed the moonlight hills.

In thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain,

And hope itself was all I knew of pain;

For then, even then, the little heart would beat

At times, while young Content forsook her seat,

And wild Impatience, pointing upward, showed,

Where, tipp'd with gold, the mountain summits glowed.
Alas! the idle tale of man is found

Depicted in the dial's moral round;

With hope reflection blends her social rays

To gild the total tablet of his days;

Yet still, the sport of some malignant power,
He knows but from its shade the present hour.

But why, ungrateful, dwell on idle pain?
To show her yet some joys to me remain,
Say, will my Friend, with soft affection's ear,
The history of a poet's evening hear?

When, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still,
Breathed a pale steam around the glaring hill,

These lines are only applicable to the middle part of that lake.

In the beginning of winter, these mountains are frequented by woodcocks, which in dark nights retire into the woods.

And shades of deep-embattled clouds were seen,
Spotting the northern cliffs with lights between ;
Gazing the tempting shades to them denied,
When stood the shortened herds amid the tide,
Where from the barren wall's unsheltered end
Long rails into the shallow lake extend.

When school-boys stretched their length upon the green;
And round the humming elm, a glimmering scene,

In the brown park, in flocks the troubled deer
Shook the still-twinkling tail and glancing ear;
When horses in the wall-girt intake* stood,
Unshaded, eying far below the flood,
Crowded behind the swain, in mute distress,
With forward neck the closing gate to press-
Then, as I wandered where the huddling rill
Brightens with water-breaks the hollow ghyllt
To where, while thick above the branches close,
In dark brown bason its wild waves repose,
Inverted shrubs, and moss of darkest green,
Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between;
Save that aloft the subtile sunbeams shine
On withered briars that o'er the crags recline;
Sole light admitted here, a small cascade,

Illumines with sparkling foam the twilight shade;
Beyond, along the vista of the brook,

Where antique roots its bustling path o'erlook,
The eye reposes on a secret bridget

Half gray, half shagged with ivy to its ridge.

Sweet rill, farewell! To-morrow's noon again
Shall hide me, wooing long thy wildwood strain;
But now the sun has gained his western road,
And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad.

While, near the midway cliff, the silvered kite
In many a whistling circle wheels her flight;
Slant watery lights, from parting clouds, apace
Travel along the precipice's base;

Cheering its naked waste of scattered stone,
By lichens gray, and scanty moss, o'ergrown;
Where scarce the foxglove peeps, or thistle's beard;
And restless stone-chat, all day long, is heard.

How pleasant, as the yellowing sun declines,

And with long rays and shades the landscape shines;
To mark the birches' stems all golden light,

That lit the dark slant woods with silvery white;
The willow's weeping trees, that twinkling hoar,
Glanced oft upturned along the breezy shore

Low bending o'er the coloured water, fold

Their moveless boughs and leaves like threads of gold;

The word intake is local, and signifies a mountain inclosure.

Ghyll is also, I believe, a term confined to this country: ghyll and dingle have the same meaning.

The reader who has made the tour of this country, will recognise, in this de. scription, the features which characterize the lower waterfall in the grounds o Rydal.

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