Life _rearing_ up the sun! Transport kissing away an _April_ tear and
_rocking_ the year as in a dream! Would the cradle had been specified!
Seriously, these are figures which no poetical license can justify. If
they can possibly give pleasure, it must be to readers whose habits of
thinking are totally different from ours. Mr. Wordsworth is a scholar,
and, no doubt, when reading the works of others, a critic. There are
passages in his poems which display imagination, and which afford hope
for the future: but, if he can divest himself of all partiality, and
will critically question every line that he has written, he will find
many which, he must allow, call loudly for amendment.--_The Monthly
Review_.

_Lyrical Ballads, with a few other Poems_. _Small 8vo. 5s. Boards._
Arch. 1798.

The majority of these poems, we are informed in the advertisement, are
to be considered as experiments.

'They were written chiefly with a view to ascertain how far the language
of conversation in the middle and lower classes of society is adapted to
the purposes of poetic pleasure.' P. i.

Of these experimental poems, the most important is the Idiot Boy, the
story of which is simply this. Betty Foy's neighbour Susan Gale is
indisposed; and no one can conveniently be sent for the doctor but
Betty's idiot boy. She therefore puts him upon her poney, at eight
o'clock in the evening, gives him proper directions, and returns to take
care of her sick neighbour. Johnny is expected with the doctor by
eleven; but the clock strikes eleven, and twelve, and one, without the
appearance either of Johnny or the doctor. Betty's restless fears become
insupportable; and she now leaves her friend to look for her idiot son.
She goes to the doctor's house, but hears nothing of Johnny. About five
o'clock, however, she finds him sitting quietly upon his feeding poney.
As they go home they meet old Susan, whose apprehensions have cured her,
and brought her out to seek them; and they all return merrily together.

Upon this subject the author has written nearly five hundred lines. With
what spirit the story is told, our extract will evince.

[Quotes lines (322-401) of _The Idiot Boy_.]

No tale less deserved the labour that appears to have been bestowed upon
this. It resembles a Flemish picture in the worthlessness of its design
and the excellence of its execution. From Flemish artists we are
satisfied with such pieces: who would not have lamented, if Corregi