ny, I have scarcely made up my own mind upon
the subject. It should seem that the sonnet, like every other legitimate
composition, ought to have a beginning, a middle, and an end; in other
words, to consist of three parts, like the three propositions of a
syllogism, if such an illustration may be used. But the frame of metre
adopted by the Italians does not accord with this view; and, as adhered
to by them, it seems to be, if not arbitrary, best fitted to a division
of the sense into two parts, of eight and six lines each. Milton,
however, has not submitted to this; in the better half of his sonnets
the sense does not close with the rhyme at the eighth line, but
overflows into the second portion of the metre. Now it has struck me
that this is not done merely to gratify the ear by variety and freedom
of sound, but also to aid in giving that pervading sense of intense
unity in which the excellence of the sonnet has always seemed to me
mainly to consist. Instead of looking at this composition as a piece of
architecture, making a whole out of three parts, I have been much in the
habit of preferring the image of an orbicular body,--a sphere, or a
dew-drop. All this will appear to you a little fanciful; and I am well
aware that a sonnet will often be found excellent, where the beginning,
the middle, and the end are distinctly marked, and also where it is
distinctly separated into _two_ parts, to which, as I before observed,
the strict Italian model, as they write it, is favourable. Of this last
construction of sonnet, Russell's upon 'Philoctetes' is a fine specimen;
the first eight lines give the hardship of the case, the six last the
consolation, or the _per-contra_.

Ever faithfully

Your much obliged friend and servant,
W. WORDSWORTH.

P.S. In the case of the Cumberland poet, I overlooked a most pathetic
circumstance. While he was lying under the tree, and his friends were
saving what they could from the flames, he desired them to bring out the
box that contained his papers, if possible. A person went back for it,
but the bottom dropped out, and the papers fell into the flames and were
consumed. Immediately upon hearing this, the poor old man expired.[137]

89. _The Poems of Lady Winchelsea, Skelton, &c._

LETTER TO THE REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.

Lowther Castle, Sept. 23 [qu. Aug. 1833.
No date of the Year.]

MY DEAR SIR,