nd to keep present to my
mind a view of things which I ought to indulge. These six lines, too,
have not, to a reader, a connectedness with the foregoing. Omit it if
you like,--What a treasure it is to my poor, indolent, and unemployed
mind thus to lay hold on a subject to talk about, though 'tis but a
sonnet, and that of the lowest order! How mournfully inactive I
am!--'Tis night; good night.

My sister, I thank God, is nigh recovered; she was seriously ill. Do, in
your next letter, and that right soon, give me some satisfaction
respecting your present situation at Stowey. Is it a farm that you have
got? and what does your worship know about farming?

Coleridge, I want you to write an epic poem. Nothing short of it can
satisfy the vast capacity of true poetic genius. Having one great end to
direct all your poetical faculties to, and on which to lay out your
hopes, your ambition will show you to what you are equal. By the sacred
energies of Milton! by the dainty, sweet, and soothing phantasies of
honey-tongued Spenser! I adjure you to attempt the epic, or do something
more ample than the writing an occasional brief ode or sonnet; something
"to make yourself forever known,--to make the age to come your own." But
I prate; doubtless you meditate something. When you are exalted among
the lords of epic fame, I shall recall with pleasure and exultingly the
days of your humility, when you disdained not to put forth, in the same
volume with mine, your "Religious Musings" and that other poem from the
"Joan of Arc," those promising first-fruits of high renown to come. You
have learning, you have fancy, you have enthusiasm, you have strength
and amplitude of wing enow for flights like those I recommend. In the
vast and unexplored regions of fairy-land there is ground enough unfound
and uncultivated: search there, and realize your favorite Susquehanna
scheme. In all our comparisons of taste, I do not know whether I have
ever heard your opinion of a poet very dear to me,--the
now-out-of-fashion Cowley. Favor me with your judgment of him, and tell
me if his prose essays, in particular, as well as no inconsiderable part
of his verse, be not delicious. I prefer the graceful rambling of his
essays even to the courtly elegance and ease of Addison, abstracting
from this the latter's exquisite humor.

When the little volume is printed, send me three or four, at all events
not more than six, copies, and tell me if I put you to any addition