requires proper order, as much as a proposition of Euclid. The first of them is not to my liking, but it is too much trouble about a little thing to work it into a better. You have the two first stanzas [19]—“ergo”

3.

Nothing can utterly die:
Music aloft upspringing
Turns to pure atoms of sky
Each golden note of thy singing:
And that to which morning did listen
At eve in a rainbow may glisten.

4.

Beauty, when laid in the grave,
Feedeth the lily beside her:
Therefore the soul cannot have
Station or honour denied her:
She will not better her essence,
But wear a crown in God’s presence.

Q.E.D.

And I think there is quite enough of Clora and her music. I am hunting about the town for an ancient drinking cup, which I may use when I am in my house, in quality of housekeeper. Have the goodness to make my remembrances to all at that most pleasant house Freestone: I am quite serious in telling you how it is by far the pleasantest family I ever was among.

My sister is far better. We walk very much and see such sights as the town affords. To-day I have bought a little terrier to keep me company. You will think this is from my reading of Wordsworth: but if that were my cue, I should go no further than keeping a primrose in a pot for society. Farewell, dear Allen. I am astonished to find myself writing a very long letter once a week to you: but it is next to talking to you: and after having seen you so much this summer, I cannot break off suddenly.

I am your most affectionate friend,

E. F. G.

Have you got this beginning to your MS. of the Dream of Fair Women? It is very splendid.

1.

As when a man that sails in a balloon
Down looking sees the solid shining ground
Stream from beneath him in the broad blue noon,—
Tilth, hamlet, mead and mound:

2.

And takes his flags, and waves them to the mob
That shout below, all faces turn’d to where
Glows rubylike the far-up crimson globe
Filled with a finer air:

3.

So, lifted high, the Poet at his will
Lets the great world flit from him, seeing all,
Higher through secret splendours mounting still
Self-poised, nor fears to fall,

4. Hearing apart the echoes of his fame—

This is in his best style: no fretful epithet, nor a word too much.

[Castle Irwell]
Manchester, February 24, 1833.