"A youth (he bore
The name of Calvert—it shall live, if words
Of mine can give it life) in firm belief
That by endowments not from me withheld
Good might be furthered in his last decay,
By a bequest sufficient for my needs,
Enabled me to pause for choice, and walk
At large and unrestrained, nor damped too soon
By mortal cares. Himself no Poet, yet
Far less a common follower of the world,
He deemed that my pursuits and labours lay
Apart from all that leads to wealth, or even
A necessary maintenance insures,
Without some hazard to the finer sense;
He cleared a passage for me, and the stream
Flowed in the bent of Nature,"
What a help this seemingly small sum was to a man of Wordsworth's simple and frugal habits we may form some idea, when we find him, in a letter to Sir George Beaumont, speaking thus of the account to which he had turned it. "Upon the interest of the £900, £400 being laid out in annuity, with £200 deducted from the principal, and £100 a legacy to my sister, and a £100 more which the 'Lyrical Ballads' have brought me, my sister and I contrived to live seven years, nearly eight."
Giving up now all idea of becoming journalist, and declining to join his friend Wrangham in some imitations of Juvenal, because he had, he said, "come to a fixed resolution to steer clear of personal satire," he dedicated himself entirely to literature, and commenced "The Borderers," a tragedy. It was not completed until November, 1797. During its composition he was visited by Coleridge, who was at the time employed on a similar labour. After tea, one evening, Coleridge repeated two acts and a half of "Osorio," and next morning Wordsworth returned the compliment by reading aloud "The
