the news of the Waterloo victory over the globe. Tell me if this displeased you. 'Do you know who reviewed "The White Doe," in the "Quarterly?" After having asserted that Mr. W. uses his words without any regard to their sense, the writer says, that on no other principle can he explain that Emily is always called "the consecrated Emily." Now, the name Emily occurs just fifteen times in the poem ; and out of these fifteen, the epithet is attached to it once, and that for the express purpose of recalling the scene in which she had been consecrated by her brother's solemn adjuration, that she would fulfil her destiny, and become a soul, "By force of sorrows high The point upon which the whole moral interest of the piece hinges, when that speech is closed, occurs in this line, "He kissed the consecrated maid; "" and to bring back this to the reader, I repeated the epithet. 'The service I have lately rendered to Burns' genius,1 will one day be performed to mine. The quotations, also, are printed with the most culpable neglect of correctness: there are lines turned into nonsense. Too much of this. Farewell! 'Believe me affectionately yours, 'W. WORDSWORTH.' The following, also addressed to Southey, may serve 1 In his 'Letter to a Friend of Burns.' See the chapter below, in these Memoirs, on this subject. to illustrate what is said above concerning poems in stanzas: 'Dear Southey, 'My opinion in respect to epic poetry is much the same as the critic whom Lucien Buonaparte has quoted in his preface. Epic poetry, of the highest class, requires in the first place an action eminently influential, an action with a grand or sublime train of consequences; it next requires the intervention and guidance of beings superior to man, what the critics I believe call machinery; and, lastly, I think with Dennis, that no subject but a religious one can answer the demand of the soul in the highest class of this species of poetry. Now Tasso's is a religious subject, and in my opinion, a most happy one; but I am confidently of opinion that the movement of Tasso's poem rarely corresponds with the essential character of the subject; nor do I think it possible that written in stanzas it should. The celestial movement cannot, I think, be kept up, if the sense is to be broken in that despotic manner at the close of every eight lines. Spenser's stanza is infinitely finer than the ottava rhima, but even Spenser's will not allow the epic movement as exhibited by Homer, Virgil, and Milton. How noble is the first paragraph of the Æneid in point of sound, compared with the first stanza of the Jerusalem Delivered! The one winds with the majesty of the Conscript Fathers entering the Senate House in solemn procession; and the other has the pace of a set of recruits shuffling on the drill-ground, and receiving from the adjutant or drill-serjeant the command to halt at every ten or twenty steps. Farewell. Affectionately yours, 'W. WORDSWORTH.' The following notice from Mr. Wordsworth on one of his poems, written as a sequel to The White Doe,' finds a suitable place here: 2 The Force of Prayer; an appendage to 'The White Doe.'- My friend, Mr. Rogers, has also written on the subject. The story is preserved in Dr. Whitaker's "History of Craven," a topographical writer of first-rate merit in all that concerns the past; but such was his aversion from the modern spirit, as shown in the spread of manufactories in those districts of which he treated, that his readers are left entirely ignorant, both of the progress of these arts, and their real bearing upon the comfort, virtues, and happiness of the inhabitants. 'While wandering on foot through the fertile valleys, and over the moorlands of the Appenine that divides Yorkshire from Lancashire, I used to be delighted with observing the number of substantial cottages that had sprung up on every side, each having its little plot of fertile ground, won from the surrounding waste. A bright and warm fire, if needed, was always to be found in these dwellings. The father was at his loom, the children looked healthy and happy. Is it not to be feared that the increase of mechanic power has done away with many of these blessings, and substituted many evils? Alas, if these evils grow, how are they to be checked, and where is the remedy to be found? Political economy will not supply it, that is certain. We must look to something deeper, purer, and higher.' 1 From MSS. I. F. 2 Vol. iv. Р 214. CHAPTER XXXVII. LAODAMIA.-DION.-ODE TO LYCORIS. LINES ON TRAJAN'S PILLAR. -TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL.- LATIN POEM BY THE AUTHOR'S SON, THE REV. JOHN WORDSWORTH. I HAVE been led to place these poems together, at the head of this chapter, from a consideration of various cir cumstances. First, they have an affinity to each other in the quality of their subjects, which distinguishes them from the larger number of the author's poems hitherto enumerated; and next, they belong to nearly the same period in the date of their composition. LAODAMIA' was written in 1814, 'DION' in 1816, the ODE TO LYCORIS' in 1817, and the others a short time subsequently.1 6 It is a prominent characteristic of Mr. Wordsworth's poems, that they appear to grow out of his own personal history. Thus the Evening Walk,' the 'Descriptive Sketches,' and 'The Prelude,' partake more or less of an autobiographical character. The same thing may be said of a large number of his minor poems. They are, for the most part, expressions of his own feelings, excited by objects within the sphere of his own life. What he has said of Burns is true, in great measure, of himself.2 Neither the subjects of his poems, nor his manner of handling them, allow us long to forget their author. 1 Vol. ii. p. 158, 164; vol. iv. p. 220. On the basis of his human character he has reared a poetic one, which, with more or less distinctness, presents itself to view in almost every part of his earlier verses.' The beautiful region in which Wordsworth lived, the mountains and vales, the lakes and streams among which his days were spent, the Lake of Grasmere, his cottage by its side, the orchard behind it, the members of his own household, and, afterwards, the home-scenery of Rydal, — all these suggested materials for his poetical faculty to elaborate ; so that his poetical world, if I may so speak, appears to revolve around the axis of his own personal existence. To this may be added, in connection with what has just been said, that although he has excelled in almost all other kinds of composition, he has made but one attempt at a drama. On the whole, there appears to be a wide difference, in certain important respects, between a large portion of Wordsworth's poetry, and that of the great writers of antiquity, and of our own Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton, who seem to have rejoiced in emancipating themselves from what was present and personal, and in ranging freely over the limitless fields of universal space and time. Whence arises this difference? This question is an interesting one, and the records of Wordsworth's own life appear to suggest the answer. However, not to dilate on this subject, which might lead into speculations foreign to the present undertaking, the fact is as has been stated; and from this fact may be explained the circumstance that Wordsworth's poems, which come home to almost every English heart, particularly to that of those who either by personal intercourse, or by the description of others, are familiar with the objects which he portrays, and which, it may be added, have found a very cordial reception in America, have at |