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and a sudden malady carried it off, in this period of forced desertion.

Once, only once,
She saw it in that mortal malady ;
And, on the burial day, could scarcely gain
Permission to attend its obsequies !
She reach'd the house — last of the funeral train ;
And some One, as she enterd, having chanc'd
To urge unthinkingly their prompt departure,
• Nay,' said she, with commanding look, a spirit
Of anger never seen in her before,
• Nay ye must wait my time!' and down she sate,
And by the unclosed coffin kept her seat ;
Weeping and looking, looking on and weeping
Upon the last sweet slumber of her Child !
Until at length her soul was satisfied.

You see the Infant's Grave ! — and to this Spot,
The Mother, oft as she was sent abroad,
And whatsoe'er the errand, urg'd her steps:
Hither she came; and here she stood, or knelt,

In the broad day — a rueful Magdalene!”- p. 294. Overwhelmed with this calamity, she was at last obliged to leave her service.

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“ But the green stalk of Ellen's life was snapp'd,
And the flow'r droop'd; as every eye might see.”

** Her fond maternal Heart had built a Nest
In blindness all too near the river's edge ;
That Work a summer flood with hasty swell
Had swept away! and now her spirit long'd
For its last flight to Heaven's security."

Meek Saint ! through patience glorified on earth !
In whom, as by her lonely hearth she sate,
The ghastly face of cold decay put on
A sun-like beauty, and appear'd divine;
So, through the cloud of death her spirit pass'd
Into that pure and unknown world of love,
Where injury cannot come :

and here is laid The mortal Body by her Infant's side!”- p. 2 6, 297. These passages, we think, are among the most touching with which the volume presents us; though there are many in a more lofty and impassioned style. The following commemoration of a beautiful and glorious youth, the love and pride of the humble valley, is full of warmth and poetry.



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" The mountain Ash
Deck'd with autumnal berries that outshine
Spring's richest blossoms, yields a splendid show
Amid the leafy woods; and


By a brook side or solitary tarn,
How she her station doth adorn, — the pool
Glows at her feet, and all the gloomy rocks
Are brighten'd round her! In his native Vale
Such and so glorious did this Youth appear;
A sight that kindled pleasure in all hearts,
By his ingenuous beauty, by the gleam
Of his fair eyes, by his capacious brow,
By all the graces with which nature's hand
Had bounteously array'd him. As old Bards
Tell in their idle songs of wand'ring Gods,
Pan or Apollo, veil'd in human form ;
Yet, like the sweet-breath'd violet of the shade,
Discover'd in their own despite, to sense
Of Mortals, (if such fables without blame
May find chance-mention on this sacred ground,)
So, through a simple rustic garb's disguise,
In him reveal'd a Scholar's genius shone !
And so, not wholly hidden from men's sight,
In him the spirit of a hero walk'd

Our unpretending valley." -- p. 342, 343 This is lofty and energetic;— but Mr. Wordsworth descends, we cannot think very gracefully, when he proceeds to describe how the quoit whizzed when his arm launched it — and how the football mounted as high as a lark, at the touch of his toe;- neither is it a suitable catastrophe, for one so nobly endowed, to catch cold by standing too long in the river washing sheep, and die of spasms in consequence.

The general reflections on the indiscriminating rapacity of death, though by no means original in themselves, and expressed with too bold a 'rivalry of the seven ages of Shakspeare, have yet a character of vigour and truth about them that entitles them to notice.

" This file of infants ; some that never breath'd
And the besprinklid Nursling, unrequir'd
Till he begins to smile upon the breast
That feeds him; and the tott'ring Little-one
Taken from air and sunshine, when the rose
Of Infancy first blooms upon his cheek;
The thinking, thoughtless Schoolboy ; the bold Youth
Of soul impetuous; and the bashful Maid

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Smitten wbile all the promises of life
Are op'ning round her; those of middle age,
Cast down while confident in strength they stand,
Like pillars fix'd more firmly, as might seem,
And more secure, by very weight of all
That, for support, rests on them; the decay'd
And burthensome; and, lastly, that poor

Whose light of reason is with age

The hopeful and the hopeless, first and last,
The earliest summond and the longest spard,
Are here deposited ; with tribute paid
Various, but unto each some tribute paid ;
As if, amid these peaceful hills and groves,
Society were touch'd with kind concern,
And gentle · Nature griev'd that One should die!'”.

p. 244, 245. There is a lively and impressive appeal on the injury done to the health, happiness, and morality of the lower orders, by the unceasing and premature labours of our crowded manufactories. The description of night-working is picturesque. In lonely and romantic regions, he says, when silence and darkness incline all to repose

An unnatural light,
Prepar'd for never-resting Labour's eyes,
Breaks from a many-window'd Fabric huge ;
And at the appointed hour a Bell is heard -
Of harsher import than the Curfew-knoll
That spake the Norman Conqueror's stern behest.
A local summons to unceasing toil !
Disgorg'd are now the Ministers of day;
And, as they issue from the illumin'd Pile,
A fresh Band meets them, at the crowded door, -
And in the Courts ; — and where the rumbling Stream,
That turns the multitude of dizzy wheels,
Glares, like a troubl'd Spirit, in its bed
Among the rocks below. Men, Maidens, Youths,
Mother and little Children, Boys and Girls,
Enter, and each the wonted task resumes
Within this Temple

where is offer'd up
To Gain - the Master Idol of the Realm,

Perpetual sacrifice." - p. 367. The effects on the ordinary life of the poor are delineated in graver colours.

“ Domestic bliss,
(Or call it comfort, by a humbler name,)
How art thou blighted for the poor Man's heart !



Lo! in such neighbourhood, from morn to eve,
The habitations empty! or perchance
The Mother left alone, no helping hand
To rock the cradle of her peevish babe ;
No daughters round her, busy at the wheel,
Or in the despatch of each day's little growth
Of household occupation; no nice arts
Of needle-work; no bustle at the fire,
Where once the dinner was prepar'd with Pride ;
Nothing to speed the day, or cheer the mind;
Nothing to praise, to teach, or to command !
- The Father, if perchance he still retain
His old employments, goes to field or wood,
No longer led or follow'd by his Sons ;
Idlers perchance they were, - but in his sight;
Breathing fresh air, and treading the green earth ;
Till their short holiday of childhood ceasd,
Ne'er to return! That birth-right now is lost,"'-

p. 371, 372. The dissertation is closed with an ardent hope, that the farther improvement and the universal diffusion of these arts may take away the temptation for us to embark so largely in their cultivation; and that we may once more hold out inducements for the return of old manners and domestic charities.

“Learning, though late, that all true glory rests,
All praise, all safety, and all happiness,
Upon the Moral law. Egyptian Thebes;
Tyre by the margin of the sounding waves;
Palmyra, central in the Desert, fell!
And the Arts died by which they had been raised.

Call Archimedes from his buried Tomb
Upon the plain of vanish'd Syracuse,
And feelingly the Sage shall make report
How insecure, how baseless in itself,
Is that Philosophy, whose sway is fram’d
For mere material instruments:- How weak
Those Arts, and high Inventions, if unpropp'd

By Virtue." There is also a very animated exhortation to the more general diffusion of education among the lower orders; and a glowing and eloquent assertion of their capacity for all virtues and all enjoyments.

“ Believe it not!
The primal Duties shine aloft — like stars ;
The Charities that soothe, and heal, and bless,

- p. 369.



Are scatter'd at the feet of Man like flow'rs.
The gen'rous inclination, the just rule,
Kind wishes, and good actions, and pure thoughts
No mystery is here ; no special boon
For high and not for low, for proudly gracid,
And not for meek of heart. The smoke ascends
To heav'n as lightly from the Cottage hearth

As from the haughty palace.”- p. 398. The blessings and necessities that now render this a peculiar duty in the rulers of this empire, are urged in a still loftier tone.

“Look! and behold, from Calpe's sunburnt cliffs
To the flat margin of the Baltic sea,
Long-reverenc'd Titles cast away as weeds ;
Laws overturn'd, — and Territory split;
Like fields of ice rent by the polar winds,
And forc'd to join in less obnoxious shapes,
Which, ere they gain consistence, by a gust
Of the same breath are shatter'd and destroy'd.
Meantime, the Sov'reignty of these fair Isles
Remains entire and indivisible ;
And, if that ignorance were remov'd, which acts
Within the compass of their sev'ral shores
To breed commotion and disquietude,
Each might preserve the beautiful repose
Of heav'nly bodies shining in their spheres.
- The discipline of slavery is unknown
Amongst us, hence the more do we require
The discipline of virtue; order else
Cannot subsist, nor confidence, nor peace.":

p. 403, 404. There is a good deal of fine description in the course of this work; but we have left ourselves no room for any specimen. The following few lines, however, are a fine epitome of a lake voyage:

· Right across the the Lake
Our pinnace moves: then, coasting creek and bay,
Glades we behold — and into thickets peep-
Where crouch the spotted deer; or raise our eyes
To shaggy steeps on which the careless goat

Browsed by the side of dashing waterfalls.” — p. 412. We add, also, the following more elaborate and fantastic picture which, however, is not without its beauty:

" Then having reach'd a bridge, that overarch'd
The hasty rivulet where it lay becalm’d
In a deep pool, by happy chance we saw

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