affections. And I may observe, that here we have an additional proof of the propriety with which sepulchral inscriptions were referred to the consciousness of immortality as their primal source

I do not speak with a wish to recommend that an epitaph should be cast in this mould preferably to the still more common one, in which what is said comes from the survivors directly but rather to point out how natural those feelings are which have induced men, in all states and ranks of society, so frequently to adopt this mode. And this I have done chiefly in order that the laws, which ought to govern the composition of the other, may be better understood. This latter mode, namely, that in which the survivors speak in their own persons, seems to me upon the whole greatly preferable: as it admits a wider range of notices: and, above all, because, excluding the fiction which is the ground-work of the other, it rests upon a more solid basis.

Enough has been said to convey our notion of a perfect epitaph; but it must be observed that one is meant which will best answer the general ends of that species of composition. According to the course pointed out, the worth of private life, through all varieties of situation and character. will be most honourably and profitably preserved in memory. Nor would the model recommended less suit public men, in all instances save of those persons who, by the greatness of their services in the employments of peace or war, or by the surpassing excellence of their works in art, literature, or science, have made themselves not only universally known, but have filled the heart of their country with everlasting gratitude. Yet I must here pause to correct myself. In describing the general tenor of thought which epitaphs ought to hold, I have omitted to say, that, if it be the actions of a man, or even some one conspicuous or beneficial act of local or general utility, which have distinguished him, and excited a desire that he should be remembered, then, of course, ought the attention to be directed chiefly to those actions or that act; and such sentiments dwelt upon as naturally arise out of them or it. Having made this necessary distinction, I proceed-The mighty benefactors of mankind, as they are not only known by the immediate survivors, but will continue to be known familiarly to latest posterity, do not stand in need of biographic sketches, in such a place; nor of delineations of character to individualize them. This is already done by their works, in the memories of men. Their naked names and a grand comprehensive sentiment of civic gratitude, patriotic love, or human admiration; or the utterance of some elementary principle most essential in the constitution of true virtue; or an intuition, communicated in adequate words, of the sublimity of intellectual power, these are the only tribute which can here be paid-the only offering that upon such an altar would not be unworthy!

"What needs my Shakspeare for his honoured bones?

The labour of an age in piled stones?

Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid

Under a star-ypointing pyramid?

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,

What needst thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Hast built thyself a livelong monument,

"And spires whose silent finger points to heaven."

An instinctive taste teaches men to build their churches in flat countries with spire-steeples, which as they cannot be referred to any other object, point as with silent finger to the sky and stars, and sometimes, when they reflect the brazen light of a rich though rainy sunset, appear like a pyramid of flame burning heavenward. See The Friend, by S. T. Coleridge, No. 14, page

The "Transit gloria mundi" is finely expressed in the introduction to the foundation charters of some of the ancient abbeys. Some expressions here used are taken from that of the Abbey of St. Mary's, Furness, the translation of which is as follows:

"Considering every day the uncertainty of life; that the roses and flowers of kings, emperors, and dukes, and the crowns and palms of all the great, wither and decay; and that all things, with an uninterrupted course, tend to dissolution and death: I therefore," etc.

In treating this subject, it was impossible not to recollect, with gratitude, the pleasing picture, which, in his poem of "The Fleece," the excellent and amiable Dyer has given of the influences of manufacturing industry upon the face of this island. He wrote at a time when machinery was first beginning to be introduced, and his benevolent heart prompted him to augur from it nothing but good. Truth has compelled me to dwell upon the baneful effects arising out of an ill-regulated and excessive application of powers so admirable in themselves.

The discovery of Dr. Bell affords marvellous facilities for carrying this into effect, and it is impossible to overrate the benefit which might accrue to humanity from the universal application of this simple engine under an enlightened and conscientious government.

507

APPENDIX.

DEDICATION TO THE EDITION OF 1815.

TO SIR GEORGE HOWLAND BEAUMONT, BART.

MY DEAR SIR GEORGE,-Accept my thanks for the permission given me to dedicate these poems to you. In addition to a lively pleasure derived from general considerations, I feel a particular satisfaction; for, by inscribing them with your name, I seem to myself in some degree to repay, by an appropriate honour, the great obligation which I owe to one part of the collection-as having been the means of first making us personally known to each other. Upon much of the remainder, also, you have a peculiar claim, for several of the best pieces were composed under the shade of your own groves, upon the classic ground of Coleorton; where I was animated by the recollection of those illustrious poets of your name and family, who were born in that neighbourhood; and, we may be assured, did not wander with indifference, by the dashing stream of Grace Dieu, and among the rocks that diversify the forest of Charnwood.Nor is there any one to whom such parts of this collection as have been inspired or coloured by the beautiful country from which I now address you, could be presented with more propriety than to yourself-who have composed so many admirable pictures from the suggestions of the same scenery. Early in life, the sublimity and beauty of this region excited your admiration; and I know that you are bound to it in mind by a still-strengthening attachment.

Wishing and hoping that these poems may survive as a lasting memorial of a friendship, which I reckon among the blessings of my life,

I have the honour to be, my dear Sir George,

Yours most affectionately and faithfully,

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

RYDAL MOUNt, WestmorELAND, February 1, 1815.

508

PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1815.

THE observations prefixed to that portion of this work which was published many years ago, under the title of "Lyrical Ballads," have so little of a special application to the greater part of the present enlarged and diversified collection, that they could not with propriety stand as an introduction to it. Not deeming it, however, expedient to suppress that exposition, slight and imperfect as it is, of the feelings which had determined the choice of the subjects, and the principles which had regulated the composition of those pieces, I have placed it so as to form an essay supplementary to the preface, to be attended to, or not, at the pleasure of the reader.

In the preface to that part of "The Recluse," lately published under the title of "The Excursion," I have alluded to a meditated arrangement of my minor poems, which should assist the attentive reader in perceiving their connexion with each other, and also their subordination to that work. I shall here say a few words explanatory of this arrangement, as carried into effect in the present work.

The powers requisite for the production of poetry are, first, those of observation and description, .e., the ability to observe with accuracy things as they are in themselves, and with fidelity to describe them, unmodified by any passion or feeling existing in the mind of the describer; whether the things depicted be actually present to the senses, or have a place only in the memory. This power, although indispensable to a poet, is one which he employs only in submission to necessity, and never for a continuance of time as its exercise supposes all the higher qualities of the mind to be passive, and in a state of subjection to external objects, much in the same way as the translator or engraver ought to be to his original. 2ndly, Sensibility,-which, the more exquisite it is, the wider will be the range of a Poet's perceptions; and the more will he be incited to observe objects, both as they exist in themselves and as re-acted upon by his ow. mind. (The distinction between poetic and human sensibility has been marked in the character of the poet delineated in the original preface, before mentioned.) 3dly, Reflection, which makes the poet acquainted with the value of actions, images, thoughts, and feelings; and assists the sensibility in perceiving their connexion with each other. 4thly, Imagination and fancy,—to modify, to create, and to associate. 5thly, Invention, -by which characters are composed out of materials supplied by observation-whether of the poet's own heart and mind, or of external life and nature; and such incidents and situations produced as are most impressive to the imagination, and most fitted to do justice to the characters, sentiments, and passions, which the poet undertakes to illus trate. And lastly, Judgment,―to decide how and where, and in what degree, each of these faculties ought to be exerted; so that the less shall not be sacrificed to the greater, nor the greater, slighting the less, arrogate, to its own injury, more than its due. By judgment, also, is determined what are the laws and appropriate graces of every species of composition.

The materials of poetry, by these powers collected and produced, are cast, by means of various moulds, into divers forms. The moulds may be enumerated, and the forms specified, in the following order. Ist, the Narrative,-including the epopoeia, the historic poem, the tale, the romance, the mock heroic, and, if the spirit of Homer will tolerate such neighbourhood, that dear production of our days, the metrical novel. Of this class, the distinguishing mark is, that the narrator, however liberally his speaking agents be introduced, is himself the source from which every thing primarily flows. Epic poets, in order that their mode of composition may accord with the elevation of their

subject, represent themselves as singing from the inspiration of the Muse, Arma virum que cano" but this is a fiction, in modern times, of slight value the " Iliad" or the Paradise Lost" would gain little in our estimation by being chanted. The other poets who belong to this class are commonly content to tell their tale ;--so that of the whole It may be affirmed that they neither require nor reject the accompaniment of music.

2ndly, The Dramatic,-consisting of tragedy, historic drama, comedy, and masque, in which the poet does not appear at all in his own person, and where the whole action is carried on by speech and dialogue of the agents; music being admitted only incidentally and rarely. The opera may be placed here, inasmuch as it proceeds by dialogue, though, depending, to the degree that it does upon music, it has a strong claim to be ranked with the Lyrical. The characteristic and impassioned Epistle, of which Ovid and Pope have given examples, considered as a species of monodrama, may, without impropriety, be placed in this class.

3dly, The Lyrical,-containing the hymn, the ode, the elegy, the song, and the ballad; in all which, for the production of their full effect, an accompaniment of music is indispensable.

4thly, The Idyllium,-descriptive chiefly either of the processes and appearances of external nature, as "The Seasons" of Thomson, or of characters, manners, and sentiments, as are Shenstone's "Schoolmist ress," The Cotter s Saturday Night" of Burns, 'The Twa Dogs" of the same author; or of these in conjunction with the appearances of nature, as most of the pieces of Theocritus, the Allegro" and "Penseroso" of Milton, Beattie's "Minstrel, Goldsmith's "Deserted Village." The epitaph, the inscription, the sonnet, most of the epistles of poets writing in their own persons, and all locodescriptive poetry, belong to this class.

""

5thly, Didactic,-the principal object of which is direct instruction; as the poem of Lucretius, "The Georgics, of Virgil, "The Fleece" of Dyer, Mason's ' English Garden," etc.

And, lastly, philosophical satire, like that of Horace and Juvenal: personal and occasional satire rarely comprehending sufficient of the general in the individual to be dignified with the name of poetry.

Out of the three last has been constructed a composite order, of which Young's "Night Thoughts," and Cowper's "Task," are excellent examples.

It is deducible from the above, that poems, apparently miscellaneous, may, with propriety, be arranged either with reference to the powers of mind predominant in the production of them; or to the mould in which they are cast; or, lastly, to the subjects to which they relate. From each of these considerations, the following poems have been divided into classes; which, that the work may more obviously correspond with the course of human life, and for the sake of exhibiting in it the three requisites of a legitimate whole, a beginning, a middle, and an end, have been also arranged, as far as it was possible, according to an order of time, commencing with childhood, and terminating with old age, death, and immortality. My guiding wish was, that the small pieces thus discriminated, might be regarded under a two-fold view; as composing an entire work within themselves, and as adjuncts to the philosophical poem, "The Recluse. This arrangement has long presented itself habitually to my own mind. Nevertheless, I should have preferred to scatter the little poems alluded to at random, if I had been persuaded that, by the plan adopted, anything material would be taken from the natural effect of the pieces, individually, on the mind of the unreflecting reader. I trust there is a sufficient variety in each class to prevent this; while, for him who reads with reflection, the arrangement will serve as a commentary unostentatiously directing his attention to my purposes, both particular and general. But, as I wish to guard against the possibility of misleading by this classification, it is proper first to remind the reader, that certain poems are placed according to the powers of mind, in the author's conception, predominant in the production of them; predominant, which implies the exertion of other faculties in less degree. Where there is more imagination than fancy in a poem, it is placed under the head of imagination, and vice versa. the above classes might without impropriety have been enlarged from that consisting of "Poems Founded on the Affections ;" as might this latter from those, and from the class "Proceeding from Sentiment and Reflection." The most striking characteristics

Both