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chimney were in flamema tumultuous cloud sceptible change, any more than old trees; and pours aloft, straggling and broken, through the after they have begun to feel the touch of debroad slate stones that defend the mouth of the cay, it is long before they look melancholy; for vomitory from every blast. The matron within while they continue to be used, they cannot is doubtless about to prepare breakfast, and help looking cheerful, and even dilapidation last year's rotten pea-sticks have soon heated is painful only when felt to be lifeless. The the capacious gridiron. Let the smoke-wreath house now in ruins, that we passed a few hunmelt away at its leisure, and doʻ you admire, dred yards ago without you seeing it--we saw along with us, the infinite variety of all those it with a sigh-among some dark firs, just belittle shelving and sloping roofs. To feel the fore we began to ascend the hill, was many full force of the peculiar beauty of these antique years ago inhabited by Miles Mackareth, a tenements, you must understand their domes- man of some substance, and universally estic economy. If ignorant of that, you can have teemed for his honest and pious character. no conception of the meaning of any one thing His integrity, however, wanted the grace of you see-roofs, eaves, chimneys, beams, props, courteousness, and his religion was somewhat doors, hovels, and sheds, and hanging stair- gloomy and austere, while all the habits of his case, being all huddled together, as you think, life were sad, secluded, and solitary. His firein unintelligible confusion; whereas they are side was always decent, but never cheerful all precisely what and where they ought to be, there the passing traveller partook of an unand have had their colours painted, forms grudging, but a grave hospitality; and although shaped, and places allotted by wind and wea- neighbours dropping in unasked were always ther, and the perpetually but pleasantly felt treated as neighbours, yet seldom were they necessities of the natural condition of moun- invited to pass an evening below his roof, extaineers.

cept upon the stated festivals of the seasons, Dear, dear is the thatch to the eyes of a son or some domestic event demanding socialty, of Caledonia, for he may remember the house according to the country custom.

Year after in which he was born; but what thatch was year the gloom deepened on his strong-marked ever so beautiful as that slate from the quarry intellectual countenance; and his hair, once of the White-moss ? Each one-no-not each black as jet, became untimely gray. Indeed, one-but almost each one-of these little over- although little more than fifty years old when hanging roofs seems to have been slated, or you saw his head uncovered, you would have repaired at least, in its own separate season, taken him for a man approaching to threescore so various is the lustre of lichens that bathes and ten. His wife and only daughter, both the whole, as richly as ever rock was bathed naturally of a cheerful disposition, grew every fronting the sun on the mountain's brow. Here year more retired, till at last they shunned soand there is seen some small window, before ciety altogether, and were seldom seen but at unobserved, curtained perhaps-for the states- church. And now a vague rumour ran through man, and the statesman's wife, and the states the hamlets of the neighbouring valleys, that man's daughters, have a taste-a taste in- he was scarcely in his right mind—that he had spired by domestic happiness, which, seeking been heard by shepherds on the hills talking to simply comfort, unconsciously creates beauty, himself wild words, and pacing up and down and whatever its homely hand touches, that it in a state of distraction. The family ceased adorns. There would seem to be many fire- to attend divine worship, and as for some time places in Braithwaite-fold, from such a num- the Sabbath had been the only day they were ber of chimney-pillars, each rising up to a dif- visible, few or none now knew how they fared, ferent altitude from a different base, round as and by many they were nearly forgotten. Meanthe bole of a tree-and elegant, as if shaped by while, during the whole summer, the miserable Vitruvius. To us, we confess, there is nothing man haunted the loneliest places; and, to the offensive in the most glaring white rough-cast terror of his wife and daughter, who had lost that ever changed a cottage into a patch of all power over him, and durst not speak, fresunny snow. Yet here that grayish-tempered quently passed whole days they knew not unobtrusive hue does certainly blend to per- where, and came home, silent, haggard, and fection with roof, rock, and sky. Every in-ghastly, about midnight. His widow afterstrument is in tune. Not even in silvan glade, wards told that he seldom slept, and never nor among the mountain rocks, did wanderer's without dreadful dreams-that often would he eyes ever behold a porch of meeting tree-stems, sit up all night in his bed, with eyes fixed and or reclining cliffs, more gracefully festooned, staring on nothing, and uttering ejaculations than the porch from which now issues one of for mercy for all his sins. the fairest of Westmeria's daughters. With What these sins were he never confessed one arm crossed before her eyes in a sudden nor, as far as man may judge of man, had he burst of sunshine, with the other Ellinor Inman ever committed any act that needed to lie waves to her little brother and sisters among heavy on his conscience. But his whole the bark-peelers in the Rydal woods. The being, he said, was one black sin--and a graceful signal is repeated till seen, and in a spirit had been sent to tell him, that his doom few minutes a boat steals twinkling from the was to be with the wicked through all the ages opposite side of the lake, each tug of the youth of eternity. That spirit, without form or shaful rowers distinctly heard through the hollow dow-only a voice-seldom left his side day of the vale. A singing voice rises and ceases--- or night, go where he would; but its most as if the singer were watching the echo--and dreadful haunt was under a steep rock called is not now the picture complete ?

Blakeriggscaur; and thither, in whatever di. After a time old buildings undergo no per-I rection he turned his face on leaving his owo

door, he was led by an irresistible impulse, that hcur, even the poet would grant them the even as a child is led by the hand. Tenderly privilege of the arbour where he sits when inand truly had he once loved his wife and spired, and writing for immortality. He feels daughter, nor less because that love had been conscious that he ought to have been in bed; of few words, and with a shade of sorrow. But and hastens, on such occasions, to apologize now he looked on them almost as if they had for his intrusion on strangers availing thembeen strangers-except at times, when he selves of the rights and privileges of the started up, kissed them, and wept. His whole Dawn. soul was possessed by horrid fantasies, of Leaving Ivy-cottage, then, and its yet unwhich it was itself object and victim; and it breathing chimneys, turn in at the first gate to is probable, that had he seen them both lying your right, (if it be not built up, in which case dead, he would have left their corpses in the leap the wall,) and find your way the best you house, and taken his way to the mountains. can through among old pollarded and ivyed At last one night passed away and he came ash-trees, intermingled with yews, and over not. His wife and daughter, who had not gone knolly ground, brier-woven, and here and there to bed, went to the nearest house and told their whitened with the jagged thorn, till you reach, tale. In an hour a hundred feet were travers- through a slate stile, a wide gravel walk, shaded ing all the loneliest places-till a hat was seen by pine-trees, and open on the one side to an floating on Loughrigg-tarn, and then all knew orchard. Proceed--and little more than a hunthat the search was near an end. Drags were dred steps will land you on the front of Rydalsoon got from the fishermen on Windermere, mount, the house of the great Poet of the Lakes. and a boat crossed and recrossed the tarn on Mr. Wordsworth is not at home, but away to its miserable quest, till in an hour, during which cloud land in his little boat so like the crescent wife and daughter sat without speaking on a moon. But do not by too much eloquence stone by the water-edge, the body came floating awaken the family, or scare the silence, or to the surface, with its long silver hair. One frighten “the innocent brightness of the newsingle shriek only, it is said, was heard, and born day.” We hate all sentimentalism; but from that shriek till three years afterwards, we bid you, in his own words, his widow knew not that her husband was

“With gentle hand with the dead. On the brink of that small

Touch, for there is a spirit in the leaves !" sandy bay the body was laid down and cleansed of the muddy weeds—his daughter's own hands From a quaint platform of evergreens you assisting in the rueful work-and she walked see a blue gleam of Windermere over the groveamong the mourners, the day before the Sab- | tops-close at hand are Rydal-hall and its anbath, when the funeral entered the little burial- cient woods-right opposite the Loughriggground of Langdale chapel, and the congrega- fells, ferny, rocky, and silvan, but the chief tion sung a Christian psalm over the grave of breadth of breast pastoral-and to the right the forgiven suicide.

Rydal-mere, seen, and scarcely seen, through We cannot patronize the practice of walking embowering trees, and mountain-masses bathed in large parties of ten or a score, ram-stam and in the morning light, and the white-wreathed helter-skelter, on to the front-green or gravel- mists for a little while longer shrouding their walk of any private nobleman or gentleman's summits. A lately erected private chapel lifts house, to enjoy, from a commanding station, its little tower from below, surrounded by a an extensive or picturesque view of the cir- green, on which there are yet no graves-nor cumjacent country. It is too much in the do we know if it be intended for a place of style of the Free and Easy. The family with burial. A few houses are sleeping beyond the in, sitting perhaps at dinner with the windows chapel by the river side; and the people beginopen, or sewing and reading in a cool disha- ning to set them in order, here and there a pilbille, cannot like to be stared in upon by so lar of smoke ascends into the air, giving cheermany curious and inquisitive pupils all a-hunt fulness and animation to the scene. for prospects ; nor were these rose-bushes The Lake-Poets! ay, their day is come. planted there for public use, nor that cherry- The lakes are worthy of the poets, and the tree in vain netted against the blackbirds. Not poets of the lakes.

poets of the lakes. That poets should love but that a party may now and then excusably and live among lakes, once seemed most abenough pretend to lose their way in a strange surd to critics whose domiciles were on the country; and looking around them in well- Nor-Loch, in which there was not sufficient assumed bewilderment, bow hesitatingly and water for a tolerable quagmire. Edinburgh respectfully to maid or matron at door or win- Castle is a noble rock-so are the Salisbury dow, and, with a thousand apologies, linger-Craigs noble craigs--and Arthur's Seat a noble ingly offer to retire by the avenue gate, on the lion couchant, who, were he to leap down on other side of the spacious lawn, that terrace- Auld Reekie, would break her back-bone and like hangs over vale, lake, and river. But to bury her in the Cowgate. But place them by avoid all possible imputation of impertinence, Pavey-ark, or Red-scaur, or the glamour of follow our example, and make all such in- | Glaramara, and they would look about as magcursions by break of day. We hold that, for nificent as an upset pack of cards. Who, pray, a couple of hours before and after sunrise, are the Nor-Loch poets ? Not the Minstrel-he all the earth is common property. Nobody holds by the tenure of the Tweed. Not Campsurely would think for a moment of looking bell—" he heard in dreams the music of the black on any number of freebooting lakers Clyde.” Not Joanna Bailie-her inspiration con.ing full sail up the avenue, right against was nursed on the Calder's silvan banks and the front, at four o'clock in the morning? At the moors of Strathaven. Stream-loving Coila

their eyes

nurtured Burns; and the Shepherd's grave is their phraseology, and declares the sunset to close to the cot in which he was born--within be exceedingly handsome. The Laker, who hearing of the Ettrick's mournful voice on its sometimes has a soul, feels it rise within him way to meet the Yarrow. Skiddaw oversha- as the rim of the orb disappears in the glow dows, and Greta freshens the bower of him of softened fire. The artist compliments Nawho framed,

ture, by likening her evening glories to a pic“Of Thalaba, the wild and wond'rous song."

ture of Claud Lorraine-while the poet feels

the sense sublime Here the woods, mountains, and waters of Rydal imparadise the abode of the wisest of na

“Of something far more deeply interfused,

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, ture's bards, with whom poetry is religion. And

And the round ocean and the living air, where was he ever so happy as in that region, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man; he who created “ Christabelle,” “ beautiful ex

A motion and a spirit that impels

All thinking things, all objects of all thought, ceedingly;" and sent the “ Auncient Mariner” And rolls through all things." on the wildest of all voyagings, and brought him back with the ghastliest of all crews, and

Compare any one page, or any twenty pages, the strangest of all curses that ever haunted with the character given of Wordsworth's crime?

poetry in the obsolete criticism that sought to Of all Poets that ever lived, Wordsworth has send it to oblivion. The poet now sits on his been at once the most truthful and the most throne in the blue serene-and no voice from idealizing; external nature from him has re- below dares deny his supremacy in his own ceived a soul, and becomes our teacher; while calm dominions. And was it of him, whom he has so filled our minds with images from devout imagination, dreaming of ages to come her, that every mood finds some fine affinities i now sees, placed in his immortality between there, and thus we all hang for sustenance and Milton and Spenser, that the whole land once delight on the bosom of our mighty Mother. rang with ridicule, while her wise men wiped We believe that there are many who have an

“of tears that sacred pity had eneye for Nature, and even a sense of the beau- gendered," and then relieved their hearts by tiful, without any very profound feeling; and joining in the laughter“ of the universal Brito them Wordsworth's finest descriptive pas

tish nation ?" All the ineffable absurdities of sages seem often languid or diffuse, and not to the bard are now embodied in Seven Volumes present to their eyes any distinct picture. Per- —the sense of the ridiculous still survives haps sometimes this objection may be just; among us our men of wit and power are not but to paint to the eye is easier than to the all dead—we have yet our satirists, great and imagination—and Wordsworth, taking it for small-editors in thousands, and contributors granted that people can now see and hear, de- in tens of thousands—yet not a whisper is

of his pupil it must not be said,

the high-priest of nature; while the voice of

the awakened and enlightened land declares it “A primrose by the river's brim A yellow primrose is to him,

to be divine--using towards him not the lanAnd it is nothing more ;"

guage merely of admiration but of reverence

of love and gratitude, due to a benefactor of the poet gives the something more till we start at the disclosure as at a lovely apparition-yet loftiest thoughts and noblest sentiments, still

humanity, who has purified its passions by an apparition of beauty not foreign to the flower, but exhaling from its petals, which till ing their turbulence by the same processes that bunch of leaves. In these lines is an humbler soul, in ebb and flow, and when its tide is at example of how recondite may be the spirit of full, may be at once as strong and as serene as

the sea. beauty in any most familiar thing belonging to the kingdom of nature; one higher far—but of

There are few pictures painted by him the same kind-is couched in two immortal merely for the pleasure of the eye, or even the

imagination, though all the pictures he ever

painted are beautiful to both; they have all a " To me the humblest flower that blows can give

moral meaning--many a meaning more than Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

moral-and his poetry can be comprehended, In what would the poet differ from the wor- in its full scope and spirit, but by those who thy man of prose, if his imagination possessed feel the sublimity of these four lines in his not a beautifying and transmuting power over “Ode to Duty”— the objects of the inanimate world? Nay, even the naked truth itself is seen clearly but by

“Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,

And fragrance in thy footing treads; poetic eyes; and were a sumph all at once to Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong become a poet, he would all at once be stark- And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh saring mad. Yonder ass licking his lips at a

and strong.” tuistle, sees but water for him to drink in Win- Is thy life disturbed by guilty or sinful pasdermere a-glow with the golden lights of set- sions? Have they gained a mastery of theeting suns. The ostler or the boots at Lowood- and art thou indeed their slave? Then the inn takes a somewhat higher flight, and for a poetry of Wordsworth must be to thee moment, pausing with curry-comb or blacking-brush in his suspended hand, calls on Sally

“As is a picture to a blind man's eye;" Chambermaid for gracious sake to look at or if thine eyes yet see the light in which it is Pull-wyke. The waiter who has cultivated enveloped, and thy heart yet feels the beauty his taste from conversation with Lakers, learns l it reveals, in spite of the clouds that overhang

verses

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and the storms that trouble them, that beauty | by those habits of reflection which its study will be unbearable, till regret become remorse, forms, when pursued under the influence of and remorse penitence, and penitence restore thoughtful peace. thee to those intuitions of the truth that illu- Why, if it were not for that everlastingmine his sacred pages, and thou knowest and we beg pardon-immortal Wordsworth—the feelest once more that

LAKES, and all that belong to them, would be

our own-jure divino for we are the heir-ap“The primal duties that shine aloft-like stars,”

parent to the that life's best pleasures grow like flowers all

“Sole King of rocky Cumberland.” around and beneath thy feet.

But Wordsworth never will never can die; Nor are we not privileged to cherish a bet- and so we are in danger of being cheated out of ter feeling than pride in the belief, or rather our due dominion. We cannot think this fatherknowledge, that We have helped to diffuse ly treatment of such a son—and yet in our loftiWordsworth's poetry not only over this island, est moods of filial reverence we have heard ourbut the furthest dependencies of the British selves exclaming, while empire, and throughout the United States of

" The Cataract of Lodore America. Many thousands have owed to us

Peal'd to our orisons," their emancipation from the prejudices against | King! live for ever! it, under which they had wilfully remained ignorant of it during many years; and we have fore our eyes, we took to prose-to numerous

Therefore, with the fear of the Excursion beinstructed as many more, whose hearts were free, how to look on it with those eyes of love prose-ay, though we say it that should not which alone can discover the Beautiful. Com say it, to prose as numerous as any verse

and showed such scenes munications have been made to us from across the Atlantic, and from the heart of India--from

“As savage Rosa dash'd, or learned Poussin drew." the Occident and the Orient-thanking us for Here an English lake-there a Scottish lochhaving vindicated and extended the fame of the till Turner grew jealous, and Thomson fluug best of our living bards, till the name of his brush at one of his own unfinished mounWordsworth has become a household word on tains--when lo! a miracle! Creative of granthe banks of the Mississippi and the Ganges. deur in his very despair, he stood astonished It would have been so had we never lived, but at the cliff that came prerupt from his canvas, not so soon ; and many a noble nature has wor- and christened itself "the Eagle's Eyrie," as shipped his genius, as displayed in our pages, it frowned serenely upon the sea, maddening in not in fragments but in perfect poems, accom- a foamy circle at its inaccessible feet. panied with our comments, who had no means Only in such prose as ours can the heart in those distant regions of possessing his vo- pour forth its effusions like a strong spring, lumes, whereas Maga flies on wings to the discharging ever so many gallons in a minute, uttermost parts of the earth.

either into pipes that conduct it through some As for our own dear Scotland-for whose great Metropolitan city, or into a water-course sake, with all her faults, the light of day is that soon becomes a rivulet, then a stream, sweet to our eyes-twenty years ago there then a river, then a lake, and then a sea. were not twenty copies--we question if there would Fancy luxuriate? Then let her expand were ten-of the Lyrical Ballads in all the wings of prose. In verse, however irregular, land of the mountain and the flood. Now her flight is lime-twigged, and she soon takes Wordsworth is studied all Scotland over-and to hopping on the ground. Would Imagination Scotland is proud and happy to know, from his dive? Let the bell in which she sinks be conMemorials of the Tours he has made through structed on the prose principle, and deeper her brown heaths and shaggy woods, that the than ever plummet sunk, it will startle monBard's heart overflows with kindness towards sters at the roots of the coral caves, yet be imher children-that his songs have celebrated pervious to the strokes of the most tremendous the simple and heroic character of her olden of tails. Would she soar? In a prose balloon times, nor left unhonoured the virtues that yet she seeks the stars. There is room and power survive in her national character. All her of ascension for any quantity of ballast--fing generous youth regard him now as a great it out and up she goes! Let some gas escape, Poet; and we have been more affected than we and she descends far more gingerly than Mrs. should choose to confess, by the grateful ac- Graham and his Serene Highness; the grapnel knowledgment of many a gifted spirit, that to us catches a stile, and she steps “like a dreadless it was owing that they had opened their eyes angel unpursued” once more upon terra firma, and their hearts to the ineffable beauty of that and may then celebrate her aerial voyage, if poetry in which they had, under our instruc- she choose, in an Ode which will be sure near tions, found not a vain visionary delight, but a the end to rise--into prose. strength and succour and consolation, breathed Prose, we believe, is destined to drive what as from a shrine in the silence and solitude of is called Poetry out of the world. Here is a nature, in which stood their father's hut, sanc- fair challenge. Let any Poet send us a poem tifying their humble birthplace with pious of five hundred lines-blanks or not-on any thoughts that made the very weekdays to them subject; and we shall write on that subject a like Sabbaths-nor on the evening of the Sab-passage of the same number of words in liath might they not blamelessly be blended prose; and the Editors of the Quarterly, Edinwith those breathed from the Bible, enlarging burgh, and Westminister, shall decide which the: souls to religion by those meditative deserves the prize. Milton was wofully wrong moods which such pure poetry inspires, and in speaking of “prose or numerous verse.

Prose is a million times more numerous than plants of Paradise-This is our occupationverse. Then prose improves the more poetical and the happiness of witnessing them all

grow it becomes; but verse, the moment it becomes ) ing in the light of admiration is our reward. prosaic, goes to the dogs. Then, the connect- Finding our way back as we choose to Ivying links between two fine passages in verse, cottage, we cross the wooden bridge, and away it is enjoined, shall be as little like verse as along the western shore of Rydal-mere. Hence possible; nay, whole passages, critics say, you see the mountains in magnificent composhould be of that sort; and why, pray, not sition, and craggy coppices with intervening prose at once? Why clip the King's English, green fields shelving down to the lake margin. or the Emperor's German, or the Sublime It is a small lake, not much more than a mile Porte's Turkish, into bits of dull jingle-pre-round, and of a very peculiar character. One tending to be verses merely because of the memorable cottage only, as far as we rememproper number of syllables--some of them im- ber, peeps on its shore from a grove of prisoned perhaps in parentheses, where they sycamores, a statesman's pleasant dwelling; sit helplessly protruding the bare soles of their and there are the ruins of another on a slope feet, like folks that have got muzzy, in the stocks? near the upper end, the circle of the garden

Wordsworth says well, that the language still visible. Every thing has a quiet but of common people, when giving utterance to wildish pastoral and silvan look, and the bleatpassionate emotions, is highly figurative, and ing of sheep fills the hollow of the hills. The hence he concludes not so well fit for a lyrical lake has a reedy inlet and outlet, and the angballad. Their volubility is great, nor few their ler thinks of pike when he looks upon such flowers of speech. But who ever heard them, harbours. There is a single boat-house, where but by the merest accident, spout verses ? the Lady of the Hall has a padlocked and Rhyme do they never--the utmost they reach painted barge for pleasure parties; and the is occasional blanks. But their prose! Ye heronry on the high pine-trees of the only gods! how they do talk! The washerwoman island connects the scene with the ancient park absolutely froths like her own tub; and you of Rydal, whose oak woods, though thinned never dream of asking her “ how she is off for and decayed, still preserve the majestic and soap ?" Paradise Lost! The Excursion! The venerable character of antiquity and baronial Task indeed! No man of woman born, no state. woman by man begotten, ever yet in his or her Having taken a lingering farewell of Rydalsenses spoke like the authors of those poems. mere, and of the new•Chapel-tower, that seems Hamlet, in his sublimest moods, speaks in among the groves already to be an antique, prose-Lady Macbeth talks prose in her sleep we may either sink down to the stream that and so it should be printed. “ Out, damned flows out of Grassmere and connects the two spot!" are three words of prose; and who that lakes, crossing a wooden bridge, and then joinbeheld Siddons wringing her hands to wash ing the new road that sweeps along to the them of murder, did not feel that they were Village, or we may keep up on the face of the the most dreadful ever extorted by remorse hill, and by a terrace-path reach the Loughriggfrom guilt ?

road, a few hundred yards above Tail-end, a A green old age is the most loving season pretty cottage-ornée which you will observe of life, for almost all the other passions are crowning a wooded eminence, and looking then dead or dying—or the mind, no more at cheerfully abroad over all the vale. There is the mercy of a troubled heart, compares the one Mount in particular, whence we see to little pleasure their gratification can ever yield advantage the delightful panorama-encircling now with what it could at any time long ago, mountains--Grassmere Lake far down below and lets them rest. Envy is the worst dis- your feet, with its one green pastoral isle, silturber or embitterer of man's declining years; van shores, and emerald meadows-huts and but it does not deserve the name of a passion homes sprinkled up and down in all directions —and is a disease, not of the poor in spirit--the village partly embowered in groves, and for they are blessed—but of the mean, and then partly open below the shadow of large single they indeed are cursed. For our own parts trees--and the Churchtower, almost always a we know Envy but as we have studied it in fine feature in the scenery of the north of others and never felt it except towards the England, standing in stately simplicity among wise and good; and then 'twas a longing the clustering tenements, nor dwindled even desire to be like them-painful only when we by the great height of the hills. thought that might never be, and that all our It is pleasant to lose sight entirely of a loftiest aspirations might be in vain. Our beautiful scene, and to plod along for a few envy of Genius is of a nature so noble, that it hundred yards in almost objectless shadow. knows no happiness like that of guarding from Our conceptions and feelings are bright and mildew the laurels on the brows of the Muses' strong from the nearness of their objects, yet Sons. What a dear kind soul of a critic is old the dream is somewhat different from the realChristopher North! Watering the flowers of ity. All at once, at a turning of the road, the poetry, and removing the weeds that might splendour reappears like an unfurled banner, choke them-letting in the sunshine upon them, and the heart leaps in the joy of the senses. and fencing them from the blast-proclaiming This sort of enjoyment comes upon you before where the gardens grow, and leading boys you reach the Village of Grassmere from the and virgins into the pleasant alleys-teaching point of vision above described, and a stranger hearts to love and eyes to see their beauty, sometimes is apt to doul.b if it be really the and classifying, by the attributes it has pleased same Lake—that one islaud, and those few nature to bestow on the various orders, the promontories, shifting into such varied combi

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