ke a sonnet, and were
composed as such. But I thought that by intermediate lines they might be
connected so as to make a whole. One or two expressions are taken from
Milton's _History of England_.

441. *_A little Onward_. [XXIII.]

The complaint in my eyes which gave occasion to this address to my
daughter first showed itself as a consequence of inflammation, caught at
the top of Kirkstone, when I was over-heated by having carried up the
ascent my eldest son, a lusty infant. Frequently has the disease
recurred since, leaving the eyes in a state which has often prevented my
reading for months, and makes me at this day incapable of bearing
without injury any strong light by day or night. My acquaintance with
books has therefore been far short of my wishes, and on this account, to
acknowledge the services daily and hourly done me by my family and
friends, this note is written.

442. _Ode to Lycoris_. [XXIV.]

This, as well as the preceding and the two that follow, were composed in
front of Rydal Mount, and during my walks in the neighbourhood.
Nine-tenths of my verses have been murmured out in the open air. And
here let me repeat what I believe has already appeared in print. One day
a stranger, having walked round the garden and grounds of Rydal Mount,
asked of one of the female servants, who happened to be at the door,
permission to see her master's Study. 'This,' said she, leading him
forward, 'is my master's library, where he keeps his books; but his
study is out of doors.' After a long absence from home, it has more than
once happened that some one of my cottage neighbours (not of the
double-coach-house cottages) has said, 'Well, there he is; we are glad
to hear him _booing_ about again.' Once more, in excuse for so much
egotism, let me say these notes are written for my familiar friends, and
at their earnest request. Another time a gentleman, whom James had
conducted through the grounds, asked him what kind of plants throve best
there. After a little consideration, he answered, 'Laurels.' 'That is,'
said the stranger, 'as it should be. Don't you know that the laurel is
the emblem of poetry, and that poets used, on public occasions, to be
crowned with it?' James stared when the question was first put, but was
doubtless much pleased with the information.

443. *_Ibid._

The discerning reader who is aware that in the poem of 'Ellen Irwin' I
was desirous of throwing the reader at once out of the old ballad,