to be
excited, are nevertheless permanent and therefore proper objects of the
Poet's regard.

I. POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.

3. *_Extract from the Conclusion of a Poem, composed in anticipation of
leaving School_.

'Dear native regions,' &c. 1786. Hawkshead. The beautiful image with
which this poem concludes suggested itself to me while I was resting in
a boat along with my companions under the shade of a magnificent row of
sycamores, which then extended their branches from the shore of the
promontory upon which stands the ancient and at that time the more
picturesque Hall of Coniston, the Seat of the Le Flemings from very
early times. The Poem of which it was the conclusion was of many hundred
lines, and contained thoughts and images most of which have been
dispersed through my other writings.

4. Of the Poems in this class, 'The Evening Walk' and 'Descriptive
Sketches' were first published in 1793. They are reprinted with some
alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their publication.

* * * * *

This notice, which was written some time ago, scarcely applies to the
Poem, 'Descriptive Sketches,' as it now stands. The corrections, though
numerous, are not, however, such as to prevent its retaining with
propriety a place in the class of Juvenile Pieces.

5. *_An Evening Walk. Addressed to a Young Lady_. [III.]

The young lady to whom this was addressed was my sister. It was composed
at School and during my first two college vacations. There is not an
image in it which I have not observed; and, now in my seventy-third
year, I recollect the time and place where most of them were noticed. I
will confine myself to one instance.

'Waving his hat, the shepherd from the vale
Directs his wandering dog the cliffs to scale;
The dog bounds barking mid the glittering rocks,
Hunts where his master points, the intercepted flocks.'

I was an eye-witness of this for the first time while crossing the pass
of Dunmail Raise. Upon second thought, I will mention another image:

'And fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines
Its darkening boughs and leaves in stronger lines.'

This is feebly and imperfectly exprest; but I recollect distinctly the
very spot where this first struck me. It was on the way between
Hawkshead and Ambleside, and gave me extreme pleasure. The moment was
important in my poetical history; for I date from it my consciousness of
th