not improved in appearance, as to size, nor had it acquired
anything of the majesty of age, which, even though less perhaps than any
other tree, the larch sometimes does. A few score yards from this tree
grew, when we inhabited Alfoxden, one of the most remarkable beech-trees
ever seen. The ground sloped both towards and from it. It was of immense
size, and threw out arms that struck into the soil like those of the
banyan-tree, and rose again from it. Two of the branches thus inserted
themselves twice, which gave to each the appearance of a serpent moving
along by gathering itself up in folds. One of the large boughs of this
tree had been torn off by the wind before we left Alfoxden, but five
remained. In 1841 we could barely find the spot where the tree had
stood. So remarkable a production of nature could not have been wilfully
destroyed.

426. *_Simon Lee, the old Huntsman_. [VI.]

This old man had been huntsman to the Squires of Alfoxden, which, at the
time we occupied it, belonged to a minor. The old man's cottage stood
upon the Common, a little way from the entrance to Alfoxden Park. But
[in 1841] it had disappeared. Many other changes had taken place in the
adjoining village, which I could not but notice with a regret more
natural than well-considered. Improvements but rarely appear such to
those who after long intervals of time revisit places they have had much
pleasure in. It is unnecessary to add, the fact was as mentioned in the
poem; and I have, after an interval of forty-five years, the image of
the old man as fresh before my eyes as if I had seen him yesterday. The
expression when the hounds were out, 'I dearly love their voice,' was
word for word from his own lips.

427. *_Lines written in Germany_. 1798-9. [VII.]

'A plague,' &c.

A bitter winter it was when these verses were composed by the side of my
sister, in our lodgings, at a draper's house, in the romantic imperial
town of Goslar, on the edge of the Hartz Forest. In this town the German
Emperors of the Franconian line were accustomed to keep their court, and
it retains vestiges of ancient splendour. So severe was the cold of this
winter, that when we passed out of the parlour warmed by the stove, our
cheeks were struck by the air as by cold iron. I slept in a room over a
passage that was not ceiled. The people of the house used to say rather
unfeelingly, that they expected I should be frozen to death some night;
but with the protectio