as divinely beautiful as I ever saw it. It seemed more sacred than I had ever seen it, and yet more allied to human life. The green fields, in the neighbourhood of the churchyard, were as green as possible; and, with the brightness of the sunshine, looked quite gay. I thought she was going to a quiet spot, and I could not help weeping very much. When we came to the bridge, they began to sing again, and stopped during four lines before they entered the churchyard. . . . Wm. and John came home at 10 o'clock.
******
Friday, 12th September.— . . . The fern of the mountains now spreads yellow veins among the trees; the coppice wood turns brown. William observed some affecting little things in Borrowdale. A decayed house with the tall, silent rocks seen through the broken windows. A sort of rough column put upon the gable end of a house, with a ball stone, smooth from the river-island, upon it for ornament. Near it, a stone like it, upon an old mansion, carefully hewn.
Saturday, 13th September.—Morning. William writing his Preface[1]—did not walk. Jones, and Mr. Palmer came to tea. . . .
Sunday morning, 14th.— . . . A lovely day. Read Boswell in the house in the morning, and after dinner under the bright yellow leaves of the orchard. The pear trees a bright yellow. The apple trees still green. A sweet lovely afternoon. . . . Here I have long neglected my Journal. John came home in the evening, after Jones left. Jones returned again on the Friday, the 19th September. Jones stayed with us till Friday, 26th September. Coleridge came in.
Tuesday, 23rd.—I went home with Jones. Charles Lloyd called on Tuesday, 23rd.
Sunday, 28th.—We heard of the Abergavenny's arrival. . . .
- ↑ The Preface to the second edition of Lyrical Ballads.—Ed.
