No whimsy of the purse is here,
    No Pleasure-House forlorn;
    Use, comfort, do this roof endear;
    A tributary Shed to chear
    The little Cottage that is near,
    To help it and adorn.

I hope the young Roscius, if he go on as he has begun, will rescue the English theatre from the infamy that has fallen upon it, and restore the reign of good sense and nature.  From what you have seen, Sir George, do you think he could manage a character of Shakspeare?  Neither Selin nor Douglas require much power; but even to perform them as he does, talents and genius I should think must be necessary.  I had very little hope I confess, thinking it very natural that a theatre which had brought a dog upon the stage as a principal performer, would catch at a wonder whatever shape it might put on.

We have had no tidings of Coleridge these several months.  He spoke of papers which he had sent by private hands, none of which we have received.  It must be most criminal neglect somewhere if the fever be suffered to enter Malta.  Farewell, and believe me, my dear Sir George, your affectionate and sincere friend,

W. WORDSWORTH.[26]

[26] Memoirs, vol. i. p.304 et seq., with important additions from the original.  G.

* * * * *

     ’THE RECLUSE; YOUNG ROSCIUS, &c.

     Letter to Sir George H. Beaumont, Bart.  Grasmere, May 1st. 1805.

     MY DEAR SIR GEORGE,

I have wished to write to you every day this long time, but I have also had another wish, which has interfered to prevent me; I mean the wish to resume my poetical labours:  time was stealing away fast from me, and nothing done, and my mind still seeming unfit to do anything.  At first I had a strong impulse to write a poem that should record my brother’s virtues, and be worthy of his memory.  I began to give vent to my feelings, with this view, but I was overpowered by my subject, and could not proceed.  I composed much, but it is all lost except a few lines, as it came from me in such a torrent that I was unable to remember it.  I could not hold the pen myself, and the subject was such that I could not employ Mrs. Wordsworth or my sister as my amanuensis.  This work must therefore rest awhile till I am something calmer; I shall, however, never be at peace till, as far as in me lies, I have done justice to my departed brother’s memory.  His heroic death (the particulars of which I have now accurately collected from several of the survivors) exacts this from me, and still more his singularly interesting character, and virtuous and innocent life.