[ ioi J
scenery, inspired us with terror, whilst he described the universal uproar that was awakened through the mountains by a sudden burst of' involuntary laughter in the heart of their precipices; an incident which a kindred intellect, his friend and neighbour at Grasmere, Wordsworth, (whose ' Lyrical Bal- lads,' exclusivelyalmost of all modern compositions, breathe the true, nervous, and simple spirit of poetry) lias worked up into the following admirable effusion :
" 'Twas that delightful season, when the broom,
lull ftower'd, and visible on every steep,
" Along the ropses runs in veins of gold,
" Our pathway led us on to Rotha's banks,
li And when we came in front of that tal! rock
" Which looks towards the East, T there stopp'd short,
" And trae'd the lofty barrier with my eye
From base to summit; such delight I found
" To note in shrub and tree, in stone and flower,
' That intermixture of delicious hues,
Along so vast a surface, all at onc< ,
(> In one impression, by connecting force
" Of their own beauty, imag'd in the heart.
When I had gaz'd perhaps two minutes' space,
' Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld
That ravishment of mine, and laugh'd aloud. The rock, like something starting from a sleep, ' Took up the lady's voice, and laugh'd again ' That ancient, woman seated on Helm-crag " Was ready with her cavern; Hammar-Scar,
< And the tall steep of Silver-How sent forth. ' A noise oiTaiuditor; southern Loughrigg heard
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