ABSTRACT
Beneath is a short extract from the ‘Excursion,’ a new poem just published by Mr. Wordsworth, and will be sufficient to satisfy the reader, that this writer perseveres in his long celebrated, and most extraordinary style of composition. With such verses as the following, Mr. W. has now filled the pages of a thick quarto volume; and this, alas, is only the third part of his design. Mr. W. is guilty, it must be confessed, of few or none of the faults which are justly imputed to Moore, to Scott, to Coleridge, and to Byron. If they are all glitter, his coat is of plain frieze. Whether either of them will at once stand the test of criticism, and (what the poet is bound to do,) give delight to his readers, the public taste, knowledge and feeling, must ultimately determine. The ‘Excursion’ is only the third book of a poem, to be called the ‘Recluse,’ and of which the first and second books are still to write. The preface to the present volume is a curious morceau. Mr. W. has been at work, it seems, to make a poem ‘that may live.’
