I am, Sir, yours truly,

C. LAMB.

Oct. 5th.

[Rogers had sent Lamb a copy of his Italy, with illustrations by Turner and Stothard, which was published by Moxon with other firms in 183O.  This is the middle paragraph on page 34:—­

        Here I received from thee, Basilico,
        One of those courtesies so sweet, so rare!
        When, as I rambled thro’ thy vineyard-ground
        On the hill-side, thou sent’st thy little son,
        Charged with a bunch almost as big as he,
        To press it on the stranger.  May thy vats
        O’erflow, and he, thy willing gift-bearer,
        Live to become a giver; and, at length,
        When thou art full of honour and wouldst rest,
        The staff of thine old age!]

LETTER 524

CHARLES LAMB TO VINCENT NOVELLO

[P.M.  November 8, 1830.]

        Tears are for lighter griefs.  Man weeps the doom
        That seals a single victim to the tomb. 
        But when Death riots, when with whelming sway
        Destruction sweeps a family away;
        When Infancy and Youth, a huddled mass,
        All in an instant to oblivion pass,
        And Parent’s hopes are crush’d; what lamentation
        Can reach the depth of such a desolation? 
        Look upward, Feeble Ones! look up, and trust
        That He, who lays this mortal frame in dust,
        Still hath the immortal Spirit in His keeping. 
        In Jesus’ sight they are not dead, but sleeping.

Dear N., will these lines do?  I despair of better.  Poor Mary is in a deplorable state here at Enfield.

Love to all,

C. LAMB.

[The four sons and two daughters of John and Ann Rigg, of York, had been drowned in the Ouse.  A number of poets were asked for verses, the best to be inscribed on a monument in York Minster.  Those of James Montgomery were chosen.

It was possibly the death of Hazlitt, on September 18, while the Lambs were in their London lodgings, that brought on Mary Lamb’s attack.]

LETTER 525

CHARLES LAMB TO EDWARD MOXON

November 12, 1830.

Dear Moxon,—­I have brought my sister to Enfield, being sure that she had no hope of recovery in London.  Her state of mind is deplorable beyond any example.  I almost fear whether she has strength at her time of life ever to get out of it.  Here she must be nursed, and neither see nor hear of anything in the world out of her sick chamber.  The mere hearing that Southey had called at our lodgings totally upset her.  Pray see him, or hear of him at Mr. Rickman’s, and excuse my not writing to him.  I dare not write or receive a letter in her presence; every little task so agitates her.  Westwood will receive any letter for me, and give it me privately.  Pray assure Southey of my kindliest feelings towards him; and, if you do not see him, send this to him.