To open for a stranger Lord Gregory’s castle gate.
Your castle gate is closed, but I behold your moat,
And there your cruel eyes shall see my body float.
TO MADAME DE STIERNELD.[67]
Jan. 26, 1823.
We have all been a little disappointed in Moore’s Loves of the Angels. The first angel’s story is that of a Bond-street beau; the second, an adaptation of the tale of Jupiter and Semele; the third, an account of an earthly couple, and a pair not of the very first order. Yet, with all this poverty of conception, the details are very beautiful, and the whole poem, like the wings of the angels he describes, sparkling with brilliant prettinesses.
The severity of the frost continues. The pert sparrow, the twinkling water-wagtail, the silent lark, are feeding in perfect tameness outside our windows. Every leaf is covered with a smooth crystal case, which can be slipped off like a sheath, retains the mark of every fibre, and looks like a splendid diamond aigrette.