human nature, a reflective habit, a mingling of reason and fancy, an imagination active, but not impassioned. The frame of mind which he labors to induce, and in which he must be read, is that serene and blessed mood In which the affections gently lead us on, While, with an eye made quiet by the power This calm and holy musing, this deep and intimato communion with Nature, this spirit of peace, should sometimes visit us. There are periods when passionate poetry wearies, and a lively measure is discordant. There are times when we are calmed and softened, and it is a luxury to pause and forget the promptings of desire and the cares of life; when it is a relief to leave the crowd and wander into solitude; when, faint and disappointed, we seek, like tired children, the neglected bosom of Nature, and in the serenity of her maternal smile, find rest aud solace. Such moments redeem existence from its monotony, and refresh the human heart with dew from the urns of Peace. Then it is that the bard of Rydal Mount is like a brother, and we deeply feel that it is good for us to have known him. POEMS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. SONNET. NUNS fret not at their convent's narrow room; And hermits are contented with their cells; And students with their pensive citadels; |