Shades of departed heroes, from the tomb,
Covered with dust of ages, hither come:
In your bright panoply, and crested might,
Such as he called you forth to life and light..
And ye, too, brethren of the cloistered vow!
And ye, pale sisterhood, that loved to bow
Your virgin beauties to the holy thrall;
Come to this festival of death-come all!
Ye mighty ones of earth, uncrown your brows,
A mightier head lies here, and sweeter vows
Than ever king received, embalm this spot,

Where sleeps the Wizard of the North, immortal Scott.
Come! sportive lovers of the moonlight hour,

Ye fairies, that obedient to his power,

Played off your merry pranks in hall and bower."

But chief of all, come Nature's holy wells,
Yielding your silver tribute, freshest bells

Plucked from the blooming heather, echoes fair,
Chaunting his golden lays, till earth and air,
Are full of melody. Come all!-come all!
Ye nations too, come at the solemn call!

*

And first his own dear land, bring offerings meet,
Such as his spirit loved, bright flowers and sweet,
For he has sung your beauties; he has thrown
A magic round them, greater than their own;
'Till not a mountain, reared its head unsung.
Come then! awake the harp, and let earth ring,
With one deep dirge of woe, from voice and string.

CHAPTER III.

A DAY'S WANDERING,

IN LONDON.

A View of the City, from Waterloo Bridge - Excursion on the St. Mary's Overies - The Tabard Inn - Temple

Thames
Church.

THE great Babylon, is seen to advantage, from many of the noble bridges spanning the Thames. Among them may be mentioned Blackfriars; observed from which St. Paul's has by far the most imposing effect, while some of the more ancient parts of the City lie in close proximity. But by far the finest point of observation, is from Waterloo Bridge, from which the view on a clear, bright morning, is certainly very fine. Beneath you, in Wordsworth's charming words,

"The river wanders at its own sweet will."

The thickly clustered houses on every side, proclaim the vast population of the City; and the numerous towers and steeples, more than fifty of which, together with five bridges, are visible from this spot, testify to its architectural wealth. The features of the south shore, on the right hand are comparatively flat and uninteresting, there being on this side of the river, few other buildings besides timber wharfs, tall chimneys, and erections belonging to the worst part of London. The ancient Church of St. Mary Overies, with its four pointed spires, and square tower, is

the only object of interest. There the good old Poet Gower, Chaucer's honored master, sleeps awaiting the resurrection morn. There too, reposes Cardinal Beaufort, that wealthy and ambitious prelate, whose death-bed has been painted by Shakspeare in such awful colors :

"Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,

Hold up thy hand! make signal of thy hope:

He dies and makes no sign."

Beneath its venerable roof assembled the Papist commission to try heretics-and on its sacred floor, Smithfield's noblest martyr, Rodgers, received sentence of death, by fire. Within its hallowed cemetery, close by its ancient wall, sleeps Beaumont's "twin worthy," Fletcher, while in close communion with such honored dust lies Massinger..

On the north shore of the river, the features of the view are impressive in the extreme. In the foreground, with its noble terrace overlooking the water, Somerset House stretches magnificently along the river. Farther on, "Temple Gardens," with their trees and verdure down to the water's edge, contrast refreshingly with the masses of brick and stone around. Glancing over the graceful steeple of St. Bride's Church, St. Paul's towers above every object, as it were with paternal dignity; its huge cupola forming the most imposing feature in the scene. Behind these, among a cluster of spires and towers, rises the tall shaft of that Monument which "lifted its head to lie," when it ascribed the great fire of London to the Papists. And there, close along the water's edge, in gloomy magnificence, you may behold the pointed towers of the once great State Prison of England, so pregnant with associations of the romantic and fearful; while the extreme dis- . tance presents a bristling forest of masts, belonging to

every nation. Turning westward and looking up the river, several objects of interest meet the eye. The Lambeth shore is marked by little, except a lion-surmounted brewery, which somewhat relieves its monotony. The sombre dome of Bethlehem Hospital, is seen behind, fraught with the most gloomy associations, while Lambeth Palace rears its towers in the distance, interesting as the scene of so many Church Councils, and within whose walls, Wyckliffe the first Reformer, read his startling doctrines, after he had been previously cited at St. Paul's. On the opposite side is the interesting locality of the Savoy, reminding us of good old Geoffrey Chaucer; for here he resided so long, under the protection of the Duke of Gaunt, and his amiable Blanche. Here he composed some of the sweetest of his poems.

Still farther on, stands Hungerford Market, while behind rise the Column of Nelson and the towers of Westminster, the great national Walhalla, And there too, stretching their vast length along the waterside, with a dignity and grandeur befitting their high vocation, are the new Houses of Parliament.

As the busy eye glances around from spot to spot, and from spire to spire, how the recollections of the past crowd upon the mind. The Tower, which forms so prominent a feature in the distance, how much of history and romance does it suggest. Kings, Queens, Statesmen, form the almost unbroken line of its captives for five or six centuries. There is hardly a single great event in English history, where this gloomy edifice does not loom forth in terrible distinctness-and scarce an ancient family in England, to which it has not bequeathed some fearful and ghastly memories.

How many associations are awakened at the sight of Temple Gardens! There, in former times, proudly lived in splendor, the Knights Templar; and the admirers of "the Essays of Elia," will not forget, that close by was the residence of good Charles Lamb. Farther on, and near the water side stands the little Chapel, where Milton was baptized; and nearly opposite, on the other side of the river, is the site of the celebrated "Globe Theatre,” so intimately connected with the lives and early fortunes of Shakspeare, and "rare Ben Johnson."

The sight of the venerable Towers of Westminster, evoke feelings of deep interest. Who can stand within the shadow of its ancient pile, without being o'erwhelmed by the solemnity of its associations? How are you impressed with solemn and religious veneration, at the thought of the uses to which it has been applied; the great events of which it has been the witness? Here are crowned the monarchs of England; and here all their pomp and vanity fled away, they moulder like their subjects. Amid such an assemblage of architectural grandeur, as the Abbey presents, the mind is filled with a rich confusion of imagery, as if incapable of grappling with the whole. To use the words of quaint Thomas Miller, "it seems like the sunlight, that flames through the deep dyed windows-you stand amid the dazzle of blaze and brightness, that appears to have neither beginning or end. Here flashing like gold; there stealing into the dim purple twilight, and gilding as it passes a shrine, or a stony shroud, then settling down amid the vaulted shadows of the tomb; or just lighting faintly in its passage upon the uplifted hands of the recumbent image that have been clasped for centuries, in the attitude of silent prayer. And