422. The Tables turned. [II.]

Composed at the same time [as Expostulation and Reply].

423. *_Lines written in early Spring_. [III.]

1798.  Actually composed while I was sitting by the side of the brook that runs down from the Comb, in which stands the village of Alford, through the grounds of Alfoxden.  It was a chosen resort of mine.  The brook fell down a sloping rock, so as to make a waterfall, considerable for that country; and, across the pool below, had fallen a tree, an ash, if I rightly remember, from which rose, perpendicularly, boughs in search of the light intercepted by the deep shade above.  The boughs bore leaves of green, that for want of sunshine had faded into almost lily-white; and from the underside of this natural sylvan bridge depended long and beautiful tresses of ivy, which waved gently in the breeze, that might, poetically speaking, be called the breath of the waterfall.  This motion varied, of course, in proportion to the power of water in the brook.  When, with dear friends, I revisited this spot, after an interval of more than forty years, this interesting feature of the scene was gone.  To the owner of the place I could not but regret that the beauty of this retired part of the grounds had not tempted him to make it more accessible, by a path, not broad or obtrusive, but sufficient for persons who love such scenes to creep along without difficulty.

424. *_A Character_.

The principal features are taken from that of my friend Robert Jones.

425. *_To my Sister_. [V.]

Composed in front of Alfoxden House.

My little boy-messenger on this occasion was the son of Basil Montagu.  The larch mentioned in the first stanza was standing when I revisited the place in May, 1841, more than forty years after.  I was disappointed that it had not improved in appearance, as to size, nor had it acquired anything of the majesty of age, which, even though less perhaps than any other tree, the larch sometimes does.  A few score yards from this tree grew, when we inhabited Alfoxden, one of the most remarkable beech-trees ever seen.  The ground sloped both towards and from it.  It was of immense size, and threw out arms that struck into the soil like those of the banyan-tree, and rose again from it.  Two of the branches thus inserted themselves twice, which gave to each the appearance of a serpent moving along by gathering itself up in folds.  One of the large boughs of this tree had been torn off by the wind before we left Alfoxden, but five remained.  In 1841 we could barely find the spot where the tree had stood.  So remarkable a production of nature could not have been wilfully destroyed.

426. *_Simon Lee, the old Huntsman_. [VI.]