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Indiana University Studies 



THE flying tailor 



Being- a Further Extract from The Recluse, a Poem 



If ever chance or choice thy footsteps lead 

 Into that green and flowery burial-ground 

 That compasseth with sweet and mournful smiles 

 The church of Grasmere, by the eastern gate, 

 Enter, and underneath a stunted yew, 

 Some three yards distant from the gravel-walk. 

 On the left-hand side, thou wilt espy a grave. 

 With unelaborate head-stone beautified. 

 Conspicuous 'mid the other stoneless heaps 

 'Neath which the children of the valley lie. 

 There pause, and with no common feelings read 

 This short inscription — "Here lies buried 

 The Flying Tailor, aged twenty-nine!" 



[Coleridge] 



ISABELLE 



Can there be a moon in heaven to-night. 

 That the hill and the grey cloud seem so light? 

 The air is whitened by some spell, 

 For there is no moon, I know it well; 

 On this third day the sages say 

 ('Tis wonderful how well they know) 

 The moon is journeying far away, 

 Bright somewhere in a heaven below. 



It is a strange and lovely night, 



A greyish pale, but not white! 



Is it rain, or is it dew. 



That falls so thick I see its hue? 



In rays it follows, one, two, three, 



Down the air so merrily, 



Said Isabelle; so let it be! 



Why does the Lady Isabelle 

 Sit in the damp and dewy dell, 

 Counting the racks of drizzly rain. 

 And how often the rail cries over again? 

 For she's harping, harping in the brake, 

 Craik, craik Craik, craik — 



The Poetic Mirror affords an opportunity to discuss that 

 trait which, tho not of the highest order of artistic merit, was 

 possessed by Hogg to an extent nearly approaching perfection, 

 namely, imitation of literary style. From first to last the 

 Ettrick Shepherd was a mimic. Just as a theatrical mimic 

 often lacks the spark of genius that will make him a creative 



