The human Soul of universal earth,
    Dreaming on things to come; and dost possess
    A metropolitan temple in the hearts
    Of mighty Poets:  upon me bestow
    A gift of genuine insight; that my Song
    With star-like virtue in its place may shine. 
    Shedding benignant influence, and secure,
    Itself, from all malevolent effect
    Of those mutations that extend their sway
    Throughout the nether sphere!—­And if with this
    I mix more lowly matter:  with the thing
    Contemplated, describe the Mind and Man
    Contemplating:  and who, and what he was—­
    The transitory Being that beheld
    This Vision:  when and where, and how he lived;
    Be not this labour useless.  If such theme
    May sort with highest objects, then—­dread Power! 
    Whose gracious favour is the primal source
    Of all illumination—­may my Life
    Express the image of a better time,
    More wise desires, and simpler manners;—­nurse
    My Heart in genuine freedom:—­all pure thoughts
    Be with me;—­so shall Thy unfailing love
    Guide, and support, and cheer me to the end!

f LETTERS TO SIR GEORGE AND LADY BEAUMONT AND OTHERS ON THE POEMS AND RELATED SUBJECTS.

* * * * *

GRATITUDE FOR KINDNESSES, DIFFICULTY OF
LETTER-WRITING, &c.

Letter to Sir George H. Beaumont, Bart.

Grasmere, 14th October, 1803.

DEAR SIR GEORGE,

If any Person were to be informed of the particulars of your kindness to me,—­if it were described to him in all its delicacy and nobleness,—­and he should afterwards be told that I suffered eight weeks to elapse without writing to you one word of thanks or acknowledgment, he would deem it a thing absolutely impossible.  It is nevertheless true.  This is, in fact, the first time that I have taken up a pen, not for writing letters, but on any account whatsoever, except once, since Mr. Coleridge showed me the writings of the Applethwaite Estate, and told me the little history of what you had done for me, the motives, &c.  I need not say that it gave me the most heartfelt pleasure, not for my own sake chiefly, though in that point of view it might well be most highly interesting to me, but as an act which, considered in all its relations as to matter and manner, it would not be too much to say, did honour to human nature; at least, I felt it as such, and it overpowered me.

Owing to a set of painful and uneasy sensations which I have, more or less, at all times about my chest, from a disease which chiefly affects my nerves and digestive organs, and which makes my aversion from writing little less than madness, I deferred writing to you, being at first made still more uncomfortable by travelling, and loathing to do violence to myself, in what ought to be an act of pure pleasure and enjoyment, viz., the expression of my deep sense of your