The only basis on which property can rest is right derived from prescription.

The best of Locke’s works, as it seems to me, is that in which he attempts the least—­his Conduct of the Understanding.

In the Summer of 1827, speaking of some of his contemporaries, Wordsworth said, T. Moore has great natural genius; but he is too lavish of brilliant ornament.  His poems smell of the perfumer’s and milliner’s shops.  He is not content with a ring and a bracelet, but he must have rings in the ears, rings on the nose—­rings everywhere.

Walter Scott is not a careful composer.  He allows himself many liberties, which betray a want of respect for his reader.  For instance, he is too fond of inversions; i.e. he often places the verb before the substantive, and the accusative before the verb.  W. Scott quoted, as from me,

    ’The swan on sweet St. Mary’s lake
    Floats double, swan and shadow,’

instead of still; thus obscuring my idea, and betraying his own uncritical principles of composition.

Byron seems to me deficient in feeling.  Professor Wilson, I think, used to say that ‘Beppo’ was his best poem; because all his faults were there brought to a height.  I never read the ‘English Bards’ through.  His critical prognostications have, for the most part, proved erroneous.

Sir James Mackintosh said of me to M. de Stael, Wordsworth is not a great poet, but he is the greatest man among poets.’  Madame de Stael complained of my style.

Now whatever may be the result of my experiment in the subjects which I have chosen for poetical composition—­be they vulgar or be they not,—­I can say without vanity, that I have bestowed great pains on my style, full as much as any of my contemporaries have done on theirs.  I yield to none in love for my art.  I, therefore, labour at it with reverence, affection, and industry.  My main endeavour as to style has been that my poems should be written in pure intelligible English.  Lord Byron has spoken severely of my compositions.  However faulty they may be, I do not think that I ever could have prevailed upon myself to print such lines as he has done; for instance,

    ’I stood at Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,
    A palace and a prison on each hand.’

Some person ought to write a critical review, analysing Lord Byron’s language, in order to guard others against imitating him in these respects.

Shelley is one of the best artists of us all:  I mean in workmanship of style.

At Calgarth, dining with Mrs. and the Miss Watsons ... a very fine portrait of the late Bishop in the dining-room....  Mr. Wordsworth there:  a very agreeable party.  Walked home with him in the evening to Rydal.  It rained all the way.  We met a poor woman in the road.  She sobbed as she passed us.  Mr. Wordsworth was much affected with her condition:  she was swollen with dropsy, and slowly hobbling along with a stick, having been driven from one lodging to another.  It was a dark stormy night.  Mr. Wordsworth brought her back to the Lowwood Inn, where, by the landlord’s leave, she was housed in one of his barns.