. . . A. T. has near a volume of poems--elegiac--in memory of Arthur
Hallam. Don't you think the world wants other notes than elegiac now?
Lycidas is the utmost length an elegiac should reach. But Spedding
praises: and I suppose the elegiacs will see daylight, public daylight,
one day. Carlyle goes on growling with his Cromwell: whom he finds more
and more faultless every day. So that _his_ paragon also will one day
see the light also, an elegiac of a different kind from Tennyson's; as
far apart indeed as Cromwell and Hallam.
Barton comes and sups with me to-morrow, and George Crabbe, son of the
poet, a capital fellow.
_To F. Tennyson_.
BOULGE, WOODBRIDGE, _Feby_. 6, 1845.