in; I mean the graceful beauty of the
dresses and figures. There is a tone of imagination about them beyond
anything I have seen elsewhere.

Mr. Coleridge, I understand, has written to you several times lately; so
of course he will have told you when and why he left us. I am glad he
did, as I am sure the solitary part of his tour did him much the most
service. He is still unwell, though wonderfully strong. He is attempting
to bring on a fit of the gout, which he is sure will relieve him
greatly. I was at Keswick last Sunday and saw both him and Mr. Southey,
whom I liked very much. Coleridge looks better, I think, than when you
saw him; and is, I also think, upon the whole, much better. Lady
Beaumont will be pleased to hear that our carriage (though it did not
suit Mr. Coleridge, the noise of it being particularly unpleasant to
him) answered wonderfully well for my sister and me, and that the whole
tour far surpassed our most sanguine expectations.

They are sadly remiss at Keswick in putting themselves to trouble in
defence of the country; they came forward very cheerfully some time ago,
but were so thwarted by the orders and counter-orders of the ministry
and their servants, that they have thrown up the whole in disgust. At
Grasmere, we have turned out almost to a man. We are to go to Ambleside
on Sunday to be mustered, and put on, for the first time, our military
apparel. I remain, dear Sir George, with the most affectionate and
respectful regard for you and Lady Beaumont,

Yours sincerely,
W. WORDSWORTH.

My sister will transcribe three sonnets,[19] which I do not send you
from any notion I have of their merit, but merely because they are the
only verses I have written since I had the pleasure of seeing you and
Lady Beaumont. At the sight of Kilchurn Castle, an ancient residence of
the Breadalbanes, upon an island in Loch Awe, I felt a real poetical
impulse: but I did not proceed. I began a poem (apostrophising the
castle) thus:

Child of loud-throated war! the mountain stream
Roars in thy hearing; but thy hour of rest
Is come, and thou art silent in thine age;

but I stopp'd.[20]

[19] Written at Needpath, (near Peebles,) a mansion of the Duke of
Queensbury: 'Now as I live, I pity that great Lord,' &c. (_Memorials of
a Tour in Scotland_, xii.) To the Men of Kent: 'Vanguard of Liberty, ye
Men of Kent.' [_Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty_,
xxiii.] A