Besides these larger works, Wordsworth threw off--not without care and meditation,--for no man ever wrote with more method and purpose--many minor poems, and amongst them was “The Waggoner,” dedicated to Charles Lamb, but not published until 1819. It was in this year (1805) that Wordsworth, Sir Walter Scott, and Sir Humphry Davy ascended Helvellyn together; and learned the sad story of poor Charles Gough, who perished in attempting to cross over Helvellyn to Grasmere, by slipping from a steep part of the rock, where the ice was not thawed, and beside whose remains his faithful dog was found many days afterwards, almost starved to death. This affecting incident afforded a theme for both poets--viz., Sir Walter and Wordsworth, and each wrote upon it without knowing that the other was similarly engaged. Scott’s poem is entitled “Helvellyn,” and Wordsworth’s “Fidelity.” In 1807, Wordsworth issued two new volumes of poetry, in 12mo., which contained some of his best pieces; but which, like all his poems, did not gain immediate popularity. It is true that a fourth edition of the “Lyrical Ballads” had been called for, and that this indicated a growing taste in the public mind for Wordsworth’s effusions; but the critics assailed him with the bitterest animosity, and on the whole without much reason. With no reason, in short, so far as the poetic principles--the canon of his poetry--was concerned, and only with some show of reason in the instance of his peculiar mannerism. For although he was often misled by his craving after simplicity, and uttered what might be called without any violation of truth or desecration of the poet’s name and memory--_drivel_--still he had published poems of a very high order, such as had not been published in the lifetime of any man then living. The critics, however, could not let him alone, could not see the manifest beauties of his poetry, or _would_ not see them, but denounced the whole without reserve or mercy. In the meanwhile Coleridge cheered him on, and on his return to England, in the summer of 1806, Wordsworth read “The Prelude” to him in the gardens of Coleorton, near Ashby-de-la-Zouch, Leicestershire, where the poet was then residing at the invitation of Sir George Beaumont; and the high commendations which Coleridge poured upon this poem animated Wordsworth to increased exertion and perseverance. During his residence at this beautiful house, he composed the noble “Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle,”--the finest thing of the kind in our language; and he left behind him as usual, many records of his feelings at Coleorton. The poet’s letters to Sir George Beaumont and an occasional one to Sir Walter Scott, are amongst the most interesting transcripts we have of his mind at this period.