energy and elegance of language, to Milton's best efforts. Besides these and several other poems, of which "Christabel" is perhaps the most noted, Coleridge translated some of Schiller's plays, and wrote "The Friend" and several other prose works. In 1810 he left the lakes and passed the remainder of his life in London with friends; amongst whom Mr. Gilman, a surgeon of Highgate, was the most generously conspicuous. At his house he died, in 1834.
While Coleridge worked below his power, Southey was for years over-taxing his mental strength. His work knew only too little cessation: poetry gave place to biography, history, essays, and criticisms on almost all subjects of human interest. His most intimate friends have remarked that they should not know him without a pen in his hand. In poetry, "The Curse of Kehama" is his most noted work; while his lives of Nelson and of John Wesley prove him one of our best biographers.
In 1813 Southey was made laureate; and, at his death in 1843, the laurel passed to his friend Wordsworth.
Wordsworth, the real chief of the poetical triumvirate, stands out as the metaphysical poet. The ridicule with which he was at first assailed has long since died out, and every year adds to his fame. For subjects he selects the most homely characters and events. All that is most obvious and common he notes, extracts their beauty, dives into the hidden secrets which they suggest, and thus becomes to us the translator of God's great poem-the Universe.
"The Excursion," published in 1814, is undoubtedly Wordsworth's noblest poem. It contains but little of story; but it is a grand revelation of God's outer works to man's inner nature. This work is but a part of a projected grand epic, of which "The Prelude" was the opening. His other works are "The White Doe of Rylstone," "Peter Bell," "The Waggoner," "Yarrow Revisited," and a variety of sonnets and minor pieces.
Wordsworth died at Rydal Mount, in 1850, having just reached his 80th year; and was buried at Grasmere, by the side of his much loved daughter Dora, who had been taken from him three years before.
EXERCISE 1.-Write a brief account of the life and writings of Wordsworth.
EXERCISE 2.-Write a brief account of Robert Southey.
EXERCISE 3.-Write a brief account of S. T. Coleridge.
WORDSWORTH'S "EXCURSION." BOOK I.
Supine, without action.
Approaching, coming near.
Withdrawing, going or taking
from.
Peculiar, out of the common.
Elegies, funeral or mournful
Invocation, prayer to a superior.
Meditative, inclined to thought.
Refreshment, relief after pain or
Dappling, marking with spots.
Aspiring, earnestly wishing for.
Straightway, at once.
Memorial, that which preserves
in memory.
Lamenting, sorrowing for.
Sympathy, the feeling with
another.
Dislodged, put out of place.
Frugal, costing but little.
SUPINE the wanderer lay,
His eyes, as if in drowsiness, half shut,
The shadows of the breezy elms above
Dappling his face. He had not heard the sound
Of my approaching steps, and in the shade
Unnoticed did I stand some minutes' space.
At length I hailed him, seeing that his hat
Was moist with water-drops, as if the brim
Had newly scooped a running stream. He rose,
And ere our lively greeting into peace
Had settled, ""Tis," said I, "a burning day:
My lips are parched with thirst, but you, it seems,
Have somewhere found relief." He, at the word,
Pointing towards a sweet-briar, bade me climb
The fence where that aspiring shrub looked out
Upon the public way. It was a plot
Of garden ground run wild; its matted weeds
Marked with the steps of those whom, as they passed,
The gooseberry-trees that shot in long lank slips,
Or currants, hanging from their leafless stems
In scanty strings, had tempted to o'erleap
The broken wall. I looked around, and there,
Where two tall hedge-rows of thick alder boughs
Joined in a cold damp nook, espied a well,
Shrouded with willow-flowers and plumy fern.
My thirst I slaked, and, from the cheerless spot
Withdrawing, straightway to the shade returned,
Where sat the old man on the cottage bench;
And while beside him, with uncovered head,
I yet was standing, freely to respire
And cool my temples in the fanning air,
Thus did he speak : "I see around me here
Things which you cannot see. We die, my friend;
Nor we alone, but that which each man loved
And prized in his peculiar nook of earth
Dies with him or is changed; and very soon,
Even of the good is no memorial left.
The poets, in their elegies and songs
Lamenting the departed, call the groves,
They call upon the hills and streams to mourn,
And senseless rocks; nor idly, for they speak
In these their invocations with a voice
Obedient to the strong creative power
Of human passion. Sympathies there are
More tranquil, yet perhaps of kindred birth,
That steal upon the meditative mind,
And grow with thought. Beside yon spring I stood,
And eyed its waters, till we seemed to feel
One sadness, they and I. For them a bond
Of brotherhood is broken: time has been
When, every day, the touch of human hand
Dislodged the natural sleep that binds them up
In mortal stillness, and they ministered
To human comfort. Stooping down to drink,
Upon the slimy foot-stone I espied
The useless fragment of a wooden bowl,
Green with the moss of years, and subject only
To the soft handling of the elements :
There let it lie; how foolish are such thoughts!
Forgive them; never, never did my steps
Approach this door, but she who dwelt within
A daughter's welcome gave me, and I loved her
As my own child. O sir, the good die first,
And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust
Burn to the socket. Many a passenger
Hath blessed poor Margaret for her gentle looks,
When she upheld the cool refreshment drawn
From that forsaken spring; and no one came,
But he was welcome; no one went away,
But that it seemed she loved him. She is dead;
The light extinguished of her lonely hut,
The hut itself abandoned to decay,
And she forgotten in the quiet grave.
I speak," continued he, "of one whose stock
Of virtues bloomed beneath this lowly roof.
She was a woman of a steady mind;
Tender and deep in her excess of love;
Not speaking much, pleased rather with the joy
Of her own thoughts. By some especial care
Her temper had been framed as if to make
A being who, by adding love to peace,
Might live on earth a life of happiness.
Her wedded partner lacked not on his side
The humble worth that satisfied her heart:
Frugal, affectionate, sober, and withal
Keenly industrious. She with pride would tell
That he was often seated at his loom,
In summer, ere the mower was abroad
Among the dewy grass; in early spring,
Ere the last star had vanished. They who passed
At evening, from behind the garden fence
Might hear his busy spade, which he would ply
After his daily work until the light
Had failed, and every leaf and flower were lost
In the dark hedges. So their days were spent
In peace and comfort; and a pretty boy
Was their best hope, next to the God in heaven.”
EXERCISE 1.—The above extract is remarkably pure English; give ten examples of simple English words used in preference to their equivalent classic phrases.
EXERCISE 2.-Give a description in prose of Margaret and her husband.
THE two first ships of the French line had been dismasted within a quarter of an hour after the commence
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