109. *_Hint from the Mountains_. [XVII.]

Bunches of fern may often be seen wheeling about in the wind, as here described.  The particular bunch that suggested these verses was noticed in the Pass of Dunmail-Raise.  The verses were composed in 1817, but the application is for all times and places.

110. *_On seeing a Needle-case in the Form of a Harp_. [XVIII.] 1827.

111. *_The Contrast:  the Parrot and the Wren_.

This parrot belonged to Mrs. Luff while living at Fox-Ghyll.  The wren was one that haunted for many years the Summer-house between the two terraces at Rydal Mount. [In pencil on opposite page—­Addressed to Dora.]

112. *_The Danish Boy_. [XXII.]

Written in Germany, 1799.  It was entirely a fancy; but intended as a prelude to a ballad poem never written.

113. *_Song for the Wandering Jew_. [XXIII.] 1800.

114. *_Stray Pleasures_. [XXIV.]

Suggested on the Thames by the sight of one of those floating mills that used to be seen there.  This I noticed on the Surrey side, between Somerset House and Blackfriars Bridge.  Charles Lamb was with me at the time; and I thought it remarkable that I should have to point out to him, an idolatrous Londoner, a sight so interesting as the happy group dancing on the platform.  Mills of this kind used to he, and perhaps still are, not uncommon on the Continent.  I noticed several upon the river Saone in the year 1799; particularly near the town of Chalons, where my friend Jones and I halted a day when we crossed France, so far on foot.  There we embarked and floated down to Lyons.

115. *_The Pilgrim’s Dream; or the Star and the Glowworm_. [XXV.]

I distinctly recollect the evening when these verses were suggested in 1818.  It was on the road between Rydal and Grasmere, where glow-worms abound.  A star was shining above the ridge of Loughrigg Fell just opposite.  I remember a blockhead of a critic in some Review or other crying out against this piece.  ‘What so monstrous,’ said he, ’as to make a star talk to a glowworm!’ Poor fellow, we know well from this sage observation what the ‘primrose on the river’s brim was to him.’

Further—­In writing to Coleridge he says:  ’I parted from M——­ on Monday afternoon, about six o’clock, a little on this side Rushyford.  Soon after I missed my road in the midst of the storm....  Between the beginning of Lord Darlington’s park at Raby, and two or three miles beyond Staindrop, I composed the poem on the opposite page [’The Pilgrim’s Dream,’ &c.].  I reached Barnard Castle about half-past ten.  Between eight and nine evening I reached Eusemere.’ [Memoirs, i. pp. 181-2.]

116. *_The Poet and the caged Turtle-dove_. [XXVI.]

Rydal Mount, 1830.  This dove was one of a pair that had been given to my daughter by our excellent friend Miss Jewsbury, who went to India with her husband Mr. Fletcher, where she died of cholera.  The dove survived its mate many years, and was killed, to our great sorrow, by a neighbour’s cat that got in at the window and dragged it partly out of the cage.  These verses were composed extempore, to the letter, in the Terrace Summer-house before spoken of.  It was the habit of the bird to begin cooing and murmuring whenever it heard me making my verses. [In pencil on opposite page—­Dora.]