perch upon a nail from which a picture had hung. It used to sing and fan
her face with its wings in a manner that was very touching. [In
pencil--- But who was the pale-faced child?]

85. *_Her Eyes are wild_. [XXXVIII.]

Alfoxden, 1798. The subject was reported to me by a lady of Bristol, who
had seen the poor creature.

* * * * *

IV. POEMS ON THE NAMING OF PLACES.

86. _Advertisement_.

By persons resident in the country and attached to rural objects, many
places will be found unnamed or of unknown names, where little Incidents
must have occurred, or feelings been experienced, which will have given
to such places a private and peculiar interest. From a wish to give some
sort of record to such Incidents, and renew the gratification of such
feelings, Names have been given to Places by the Author and some of his
Friends, and the following Poems written in consequence.

87. *_It was an April Morn, &c._ [I.]

Grasmere, 1800. This poem was suggested on the banks of the brook that
runs through Easedale, which is, in some parts of its course, as wild
and beautiful as brook can be. I have composed thousands of verses by
the side of it.

88. *'_May call it Emmas Dell'_ (I. 47).

[In pencil, with reference to the last line is this--Emma's Dell--Who
was Emma?]

89. *_To Joanna Hutchinson_. [II.]

Grasmere, 1800. The effect of her laugh is an extravagance; though the
effect of the reverberation of voices in some parts of these mountains
is very striking. There is, in 'The Excursion,' an allusion to the bleat
of a lamb thus re-echoed and described, without any exaggeration, as I
heard it on the side of Stickle Tarn, from the precipice that stretches
on to Langdale Pikes.

90. _Inscriptions_.

In Cumberland and Westmoreland are several Inscriptions upon the native
rock, which, from the wasting of time, and the rudeness of the
workmanship, have been mistaken for Runic. They are without doubt Roman.
The Rotha mentioned in the poem is the River which, flowing through the
lakes of Grasmere and Ryedale, falls into Wynandermere. On Helmcrag,
that impressive single mountain at the head of the Vale of Grasmere, is
a rock which from most points of view bears a striking resemblance to an
old woman cowering. Close by this rock is one of those fissures or
caverns which in the language of the country are called dungeons. Most
of the mountains here mentioned immediately surround the Va