“A precious treasure had I long possessed, A little yellow canvas-covered book, A slender abstract of the Arabian tales; And, from companions in a new abode, When first I learnt, that this dear prize of mine Was but a block hewn from a mighty quarry— That there were four large volumes, laden all With kindred matter, ’twas to me, in truth, A promise scarcely earthly.... And when thereafter to my father’s house The holidays returned me, there to find That golden store of books which I had left, What joy was mine! How often ... have I lain Down by thy side, O Derwent! murmuring stream, On the hot stones, and in the glaring sun, And there have read, devouring as I read, Defrauding the day’s glory, desperate!” =“They must have their Food” of Romance.=—Nor can I omit the counsel that follows:— “A gracious spirit o’er this earth presides, And o’er the heart of man: invisibly It comes, to works of unreproved delight, And tendency benign, directing those Who care not, know not, think not what they do. The tales that charm away the wakeful night In Araby romances; legends penned For solace by dim light of monkish lamps; Fictions, for ladies of their love, devised By youthful squires; adventures endless, spun By the dismantled warrior in old age, Out of the bowels of those very schemes In which his youth did first extravagate; These spread like day, and something in the shape Of these will live till man shall be no more. Dumb yearnings, hidden appetites, are ours, And _they must_ have their food. Our childhood sits, Our simple childhood, sits upon a throne That hath more power than all the elements.” =Children must range at will among Books.=—And this other counsel:— “Rarely and with reluctance would I stoop To transitory themes; yet I rejoice, And, by these thoughts admonished, will pour out Thanks with uplifted heart, that I was reared Safe from an evil which these days have laid Upon the children of the land, a pest That might have dried me up, body and soul.... Where had we been, we two, belovèd Friend! If in the season of unperilous choice, In lieu of wandering, as we did, though vales Rich with indigenous produce, open ground Of fancy, happy pastures ranged at will, We had been followed, hourly watched, and noosed. Each in his several melancholy walk.” =Words, ‘a Passion and a Power.’=—Later, follows the story of his first enthralment by poetry:—