d_, this last not conveying any distinct sense to
his gaping soul. The Reader (as they call 'em) had discovered it, and
given it the marginal brand; but the substitutory _n_ had not yet
appeared. I accompanied his notice with a most pathetic address to the
printer not to neglect the correction. I know how such a blunder would
"batter at your peace." With regard to the works, the Letter I read with
unabated satisfaction. Such a thing was wanted, called for. The parallel
of Cotton with Burns I heartily approve, Iz. Walton hallows any page in
which his reverend name appears. "Duty archly bending to purposes of
general benevolence" is exquisite. The poems I endeavored not to
understand, but to read them with my eye alone; and I think I succeeded,
(Some people will do that when they come out, you'll say.) As if I were
to luxuriate to-morrow at some picture-gallery I was never at before,
and, going by to-day by chance, found the door open, and having but five
minutes to look about me, peeped in,--just such a _chastised_ peep I
took with my mind at the lines my luxuriating eye was coursing over
unrestrained, riot to anticipate another day's fuller satisfaction.
Coleridge is printing "Christabel," by Lord Byron's recommendation to
Murray, with what he calls a vision, "Kubla Khan," which said vision he
repeats so enchantingly that it irradiates and brings heaven and elysian
bowers into my parlor while he sings or says it; but there is an
observation, "Never tell thy dreams," and I am almost afraid that "Kubla
Khan" is an owl that won't bear daylight. I fear lest it should be
discovered, by the lantern of typography and clear reducting to letters,
no better than nonsense or no sense. When I was young, I used to chant
with ecstasy "MILD ARCADIANS EVER BLOOMING," till somebody told me it
was meant to be nonsense. Even yet I have a lingering attachment to it,
and I think it better than "Windsor Forest," "Dying Christian's
Address," etc. Coleridge has sent his tragedy to D.L.T.; it cannot be
acted this season, and by their manner of receiving I hope he will be
able to alter it to make them accept it for next. He is at present under
the medical care of a Mr. Gilman (Killman?) at Highgate, where he plays
at leaving off laud---m. I think his essentials not touched; he is very
bad, but then he wonderfully picks up another day, and his face, when he
repeats his verses, hath its ancient glory,--an archangel a little
damaged. Will Miss H. par