172 MEMOIRS OF 



Quoted from a fonnet of Mr. C. Lloyd's 

 published with Mr. Colridge's poems. 



Di final November ! me it fooths to view, 

 At parting day, the fcanty foliage fall 

 From the wet fruit-tree, or the grey Hone wall, 



Whofe cold films gliften with unwholefome dew; 



To watch the fweepy mifts from the dank earth 

 Enfold the neighbouring copfe, while, as they pafs, 

 The filent rain-drop bends the long, rank grafs, 



Which wraps fome bloflbm's immatured birth $ 



And, through my cot's lone lattice, glimmering grey, 

 Thy damp chill evenings have a charm for me, 



Difmal November ! 



The pi&ure is equally juft and ftriking 

 in both the above quotations ; but the firft, 

 though more dignified, does not thrill our 

 nerves, and the fecond does. We admire 

 in the former the power and grace of the 

 poet ; in the latter we forget the poet and 

 his art, and only yearn to fee images re- 

 flefted in his mirror, which we have annu- 

 ally, and many times fliuddered to furvey 

 in real life. 



When 



