Those idle Shepherd-boys upbraid, And bade them better mind their trade. 1800. XII. ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS, 'Retine vim istam, falsa enim dicam, si coges.'-EUSEBIUS. [THIS was suggested in front of Alfoxden. The Boy was a son of my friend, Basil Montagu, who had been two or three years under our care. The name of Kilve is from a village on the Bristol Channel, about a mile from Alfoxden; and the name of Liswyn Farm was taken from a beautiful spot on the Wye. When Mr. Coleridge, my Sister, and I, had been visiting the famous John Thelwall, who had taken refuge from politics, after a trial for high treason, with a view to bring up his family by the profits of agriculture, which proved as unfortunate a speculation as that he had filed from, Coleridge and he had both been public lecturers; Coleridge mingling, with his politics, Theology, from which the other elocutionist abstained, unless it were for the sake of a sneer. This quondam community of public employment induced Thelwall to visit Coleridge at Nether Stowey, where he fell in my way. He really was a man of extraordinary talent, an affectionate husband, and a good father. Though brought up in the City, he was truly sensible of the beauty of natural objects. I remember once, when Coleridge, he, and I were seated together upon the turf on the brink of a stream in the most beautiful part of the most beautiful glen of Alfoxden, Coleridge exclaimed, "This is a place to reconcile one to all the jarrings and conflicts of the wide world." Nay," said Thelwall, "to make one forget them altogether." The visit of this man to Coleridge was, as I believe Coleridge has related, the occasion of a spy being sent by Government to watch our proceedings, which were, I can say with truth, such as the world at large would have thought ludicrously harmless.] I HAVE a boy of five years old; 66 His face is fair and fresh to see; One morn we strolled on our dry walk, And held such intermitted talk My thoughts on former pleasures ran; A day it was when I could bear The green earth echoed to the feet Birds warbled round me-and each trace My boy beside me tripped, so slim "Now tell me, had you rather be," I said, and took him by the arm, "On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green sea, Or here at Liswyn farm ?" In careless mood he looked at me, "Now, little Edward, say why so: "For, here are woods, hills smooth and warm: There surely must some reason be Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm At this, my boy hung down his head, His head he raised-there was in sight, Then did the boy his tongue unlock, O dearest, dearest boy! my heart XIII. RURAL ARCHITECTURE. [WRITTEN at Town-end, Grasmere. These structures, as every ɔne knows, are common amongst our hills, being built by shepherds, as conspicuous marks, and occasionally by boys in sport.] THERE'S George Fisher, Charles Fleming, and Reginald Shore, Three rosy-cheeked school-boys, the highest not more To the top of GREAT How* did it please them to climb: They built him of stones gathered up as they lay: And so without scruple they called him Ralph Jones. Just half a week after, the wind sallied forth, From the peak of the crag blew the giant away. * GREAT HOW is a single and conspicuous hill, which rises towards the foot of Thirlmere, on the western side of the beautiful dale of Legberthwaite, along the high read between Keswick and Ambleside. -Some little I've seen of blind boisterous works At remembrance whereof my blood sometimes will flag; 1801. XIV. THE PET-LAMB. A PASTORAL. [WRITTEN at Town-end, Grasmere. Barbara Lewthwaite, now living at Ambleside (1843), though much changed as to beauty, was one of two most lovely sisters. Almost the first words my poor brother John said, when he visited us for the first time at Grasmere, were, "Were those two Angels that I have just seen?" and from his description I have no doubt they were those two sisters. The mother died in childbed; and one of our neighbours at Grasmere told me that the loveliest sight she had ever seen was that mother as she lay in her coffin with her babe in her arm. I mention this to notice what I cannot but think a salutary custom once universal in these vales. Every attendant on a funeral made it a duty to look at the corpse in the coffin before the lid was closed, which was never done (nor I believe is now) till a minute or two before the corpse was removed. Barbara Lewthwaite was not in fact the child whom I had seen and overheard as described in the poem. I chose the name for reasons implied in the above; and will here add a caution against the use of names of living persons. Within a few months after the publication of this poem, I was much surprised, and more hurt, to find it in a child's school-book which, having been compiled by Lindley Murray, had come into use at Grasmere School where Barbara was a pupil; and, alas! I had the mortification of hearing that she was very vain of being thus distinguished; and, in |