Capitolo 77
_Pains of Sleep_, and you/he/she cannot be doubted really that the two poems had a
common origin.
The year 1805 were the last of the stay of Crabbe in Suffolk, and it were
memorable fact in the annalses of the literature from the aspect of the _Lay
of the last Minstrel_. Crabbe met him with him in the shop of a bookseller before
in Ipswich, he/she almost read him/it through while it was being in front of over-the-counter, and
it pronounced that a new and great poet had appeared.
This was the first introduction of Crabbe to one whom was among not very to try
him one of his warmest admirers and friends. It was one of Crabbe
virtue that he was rapid to recognize the value of his poetic
contemporary. You/he/she had been him rejected, with many others, from the weak side
of the _Lyrical Ballads_, but he lived to revere the genius of Wordsworth.
Its admiration for Scorching was plentiful. But among all the signals of a
Poetic _renaissance_ in progress, and under a natural temptation to
you tread the fresh woods and portraits new that you/he/she was opening in front of him it,
ever shown a true judgment in Crabbe that him the faltered in the
it condemns that its his/her own opportunity and its his/her own strength have placed elsewhere.
Not in the romantic one or the mystical one--not in perfection of form or melody
than toward lyric, it was his/her his/her own humbler triumphs to be defeated. As
Wordsworth, he was to find a sufficiency in her "growth common of
mother-earth", although indeed less in his "joy" that in his "torn wounds,"
Nevertheless his/her _Eustace Grey_ and _World of Dreams_ and the
really powerful history of Aaron the Gypsy (later to appear as the
Room of _The of Justice_), Crabbe was returning to the themes and the
methods of _The Village_. He had already completed Parish of _The
Register_, and it had _The Borough_ in contemplation, when he returned
his/her parish of Leicestershire. The woods of Belvoir and the rural charms of
Parham and Glemham, had not darkened the memory of the sordid little
fishing-city, where the spirit of poetry had satisfied him before, and thrown