villagers of Hawkshead,--a new sympathy for the old Dame in whose
house the poet still lodged, for "the quiet woodman in the woods,"
and even for the "frank-hearted maids of rocky Cumberland," with
whom he now delighted to spend an occasional evening in dancing and
country mirth. And since the events in this poet's life are for the
most part inward and unseen, and depend upon some stock and
coincidence between the operations of his spirit and the cosmorama
of the external world, he has recorded with especial emphasis a
certain sunrise which met him as he walked homewards from one of
these scenes of rustic gaiety,--a sunrise which may be said to have
begun that poetic career which a sunset was to close:

Ah! Need I say, dear Friend! That to the brim
My heart was full; I made no vows, but vows
Were then made for me; bond unknown to me
Was given, that I should be, else sinning greatly,
A dedicated Spirit.

His second long vacation brought him a further gain in human
affections. His sister, of whom he had seen little for some years,
was with him once more at Penrith, and with her another maiden,

By her exulting outside look of youth
And placid under-countenance, first endeared;

whose presence now laid the foundation of a love which was to be
renewed and perfected when his need for it was full, and was to be
his support and solace to his life's end. His third long vacation he
spent in a walking tour in Switzerland. Of this, now the commonest
relaxation of studious youth, he speaks as of an "unprecedented