ain delights!
As short as are the nights
Wherein you spend your folly!
There's nought in this life sweet,
If man were wise to see 't,
But only melancholy;
Oh sweetest melancholy!
Welcome folded arms, and fixed eyes,
A sigh, that piercing mortifies,
A look that's fastened to the ground,
A tongue chain'd up without a sound!

Fountain heads, and pathless gloves,
Places which pale passion loves!
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls
Are warmly hous'd, save bats and owls!
A midnight dell, a passing groan!
These are the sounds we feed upon;
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley;
Nothing's so dainty sweet as [lovely] melancholy.

(From the _Nice Valour_, _or the Passionate Madman_, by Fletcher.)

I think these lines are quite of the finest order, and have a more
headlong melancholy than Milton's, which are distinctly copied from
these, as you must confess. And now this is a very long letter, and the
best thing you can do when you get to the end, is to Da Capo, and read
what I ordered you about answering. My dear fellow, it is a great
pleasure to me to write to you; and to write out these dear poems. . . .
Believe me that I am your very loving friend,

E. F. G.

[_Dec_. 7, 1832.]

MY DEAR ALLEN,

You can hardly have got through my last letter by this time. I hope you
liked the verses I sent you. The news of this week is that Thackeray has
come to London, but is going to leave it again for Devonshire directly.
He came very opportunely to divert my Blue Devils: notwithstanding, we do
not see very much of each other: and he has now so many friends
(especially the Bullers) that he has no such wish for my society. He is
as full of good humour and kindness as ever. The next news is that a new
volume of Tennyson is out: containing nothing more than you have in MS.
except one or two things not worth having. . . .

When you write back (of which there is no hurry) send me an account that
you and your Brother were once telling me at Bosherston, of three
Generals condemned to die after the siege of Pembroke in Cromwell's time:
and of the lot being brought by a little child. Give me their names,
etc. (if you can) pretty circumstantially: or else, tell me where I can
find some notice of it. . . .

I have been poring over Wordsworth lately: which has had much effect in
bettering my Blue Devils: for his philosophy does not