‘Be to her faults a little blind,
Be to her virtues very kind’—
sticks close to his filthy bargain, and will not give her up, because she keeps him, and he is down in her will. Faugh!
‘What’s here?
Gold! yellow, glittering, precious gold!
—— —— ——The wappened widow,
Whom the spittle-house and ulcerous sores
Would heave the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again.’
The above passage is, we fear, written in the style of Aretin, which Mr. Southey condemns in the Quarterly. It is at least a very sincere style: Mr. Southey will never write so, till he can keep in the same mind for three and twenty years together. Why should not one make a sentence of a page long, out of the feelings of one’s whole life? The early Protestant Divines wrote such prodigious long sentences from the sincerity of their religious and political opinions. Mr. Coleridge ought not to imitate them.