And through yon gateway, where is found,
Beneath the arch with ivy bound,
Free entrance to the church-yard ground;
And right across the verdant sod
Towards the very house of God ;-
Comes gliding in with lovely gleam,
Comes gliding in serene and slow,
Soft and silent as a dream,

A solitary doe!

White she is as lily of June,

And beauteous as the silver moon

When out of sight the clouds are driven,
And she is left alone in heaven;

Or like a ship some gentle day
In sunshine sailing far away,

A glittering ship, that hath the plain
Of ocean for her own domain.'

If this is not the truest of true poetry, what is? The second passage is no less delightful. None but a poet of the very highest order could have penned it. But we must not anticipate the reader's judgment. Let the lines be read aloud.

'From cloudless ether looking down,
The moon, this tranquil evening, sees
A camp and a beleaguered town,
And castle like a stately crown

On the steep rocks of winding Tees;
And southward far, with moors between,
Hill-tops, and floods, and forest green,
The bright moon sees that valley small
Where Rylstone's old sequestered hall
A venerable image yields

Of quiet to the neighbouring fields;
While from one pillared chimney breathes
The smoke, and mounts in silver wreaths.
The courts are hushed ;-for timely sleep
The greyhounds to their kennel creep;

6

'No,' replied Davy; what was it?'

To show the world my own opinion of it,' rejoined the poet.

It may be stated, that, in conception, this poem was in Wordsworth's estimation the greatest production of his muse. The work, notwithstanding its merits, which are unquestionable, never reached a second edition during the poet's lifetime.

CHAPTER IX.

'Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss

Of Paradise that has survived the fall!'

Couper.

Wordsworth's domestic happiness-Leigh Hunt's account of his appearance-His literary friendships-His brother Richard dies (1816)-Peter Bell' (1819)- TheWaggoner' (1819)—' The River Duddon,' etc. (1820)-Visits Switzerland and Italy, and, returning, narrowly escapes shipwreck (1820)-Is thrown from his horse and seriously injured (1822)-Memorials of a tour on the Continent, 1820' (1822) Ecclesiastical Sketches' (1822)—Visits Belgium and Holland (1823)—Makes a tour in North Wales (1824) -His library-His habit of reading and correcting his own poems-Sir George Beaumont dies, and leaves him an annuity of £100 (1827)-Makes an excursion with his daughter and Coleridge into Flanders (1828)-Visits Ireland (1829) His eldest son marries (1830)-Visits Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford (1831)-Death of Scott (1832).

APART from the disfavour with which, almost uniformly, his publications were received, the existence of Wordsworth at Rydal Mount must have been exceptionally happy. He was blest in the possession of a true, loving, and consoling wife, to whom he could at all times turn-and not in vainfor wholesome advice and guidance, and for the comfort and solace which every human heart requires.

She was one on whom, in his misgivings, he could lean for support the one was truly the complement of the other. How he loved this gentle, amiable lady we may never fully know; but he tells us, in delicate verse, that she was 'dearer far than light and life are dear.' Then, he had spared to him three children-two sons and one daughter-who were growing up like olive branches round about his table, and who were the joy of his being. His sister, too, resided under his roof; and no words can tell what a rich blessing-what a ministering angel -she, through life, was to him. Surely no brother and sister were ever more ardently attached the one to the other: Like Juno's swans '-while health permitted still they went coupled and inseparable.'

His sister-in-law, Sarah Hutchinson, continued to make her abode at Rydal Mount; and all were strongly united in the bonds of sincere and lasting affection. They were indeed a happy family..

One can readily imagine the feelings of pleasure with which the poet would pace backwards and forwards on the green-sward composing his verses, or wander listlessly about the grounds and gardens, bright with the beauty and sweet with the fragrance of a thousand flowers. But, alas! the scented atmosphere had, in one respect, less charms for him than for others. He had no sense of smell.

With reference to this peculiarity, Southey writes:

'Once, and once only, in his life, the dormant power awakened; it was by a bed of stocks in full bloom, at a house which he inhabited in Dorsetshire, some five-and-twenty years ago; and he says it was like a vision of Paradise to him: but it lasted only a few minutes, and the faculty has continued torpid from that time.'

The poet's nephew, in his 'Memoirs,' states, that the perception thus alluded to by Southey was imaginary. The incident,' he says, occurred at Racedown, when he was walking with Miss H

who, coming suddenly upon a parterre of sweet flowers, expressed her pleasure at their fragrance,-a pleasure which he caught from her lips, and then fancied to be his own.' Let us not, however, begrudge the poet the benefit of the doubt.

Leigh Hunt, in his charming Autobiography,' has given us a partial portrait of Wordsworth, who visited him in London in 1815. The two poets did not meet after this for thirty years, when Wordsworth would be about seventy-five. Writing of Wordsworth's appearance in later life, he says: 'But certainly I never beheld eyes that looked so inspired or supernatural. They were like fires half burning, half smouldering, with a sort of acrid fixture of regard, and seated at the further end of two caverns. One might imagine Ezekiel or Isaiah to have had such eyes.'

During the prolonged period of Wordsworth's