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of these strange mortals THE LANDLORD rebuilt the house and appeared suddenly rich!"*

This story ought to find a place in Wanley's Wonders of the Little World; it is too curious to be here omitted. It is one of those phenomena that occur in the list of eccentricities which mark certain individuals of the diversified classes of mankind.

Whether the good wives have more of their natural cheerfulness at Windsor than elsewhere I know not; but Shakespeare's Merry Wives of Windsor seem to intimate something of the kind. It is said that the bard, to please Queen Elizabeth, put poor FALSTAFF into love, and assuredly the figure he cuts among the Merry Wives of Windsor imparts an abundance of ludicrous emotions. In this Comedy mention is made also by Mrs Page of HEARNE'S OAK, so called from Hearne, the gamekeeper, hanging himself upon it; it is now wholly destroyed. It used to stand in the LITTLE PARK, which extends round the north and east sides of the castle, containing five hundred acres of land, and is about four miles in circumference. William the Third enlarged it and enclosed it with a brick wall. At the extremity is the Queen's Lodge, a very neat structure, attached to the Castle of Windsor, and often the abode of THE ROYAL FAMILY.

But it is time that we hasten from WINDSOR to its

* Hakewill's Account of Windsor and its Neighourhood.

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vicinity. Here (merely noticing the adjacent pleasant village of Englefield Green) OLD WINDSOR claims our attention. It is two miles distant, and was anciently (as has been already noticed) of considerable consequence. Its Church-yard is now the only interesting spot. Never did I enter an enclosure which, from its sequestered situation, and from its number of cypress-trees overshadowing the mansions of the dead, seemed so fitted for the solemn purpose to which it is consecrated. The CHURCH itself and its Cemetery are so elegantly described in the following lines, that I cannot resist the pleasure of transcribing them— you, my young Friend, who are a lover of poetry, will thank me for it :

ON OLD WINDSOR CHURCH-YARD.
By the REV. William Warrington, Vicar..
A BARD who tasted ne'er Castalian spring,
Nor soar'd advent'rous on Parnassus' hill,
Invokes each Dryad of these sylvan shades,
Each fairy Naiad of the limpid Thames;
And, CLIO, thou attune his unstrung lyre,
Teach it with soft melodious sounds to swell,
Pensive and varied as Æölian tones,-
Cast o'er his soul thine energy divine,
Like Cowper moral, and like Gray inspir'd,
To sing, in numbers plaintive as the theme,
The chasten'd beauties of this solemn scene!
In simple grandeur stands the Antique Fane,
Grey with the hoar of many a Saxon frost,
The Moon's pale shadows trembling on its tow'r,
The Larch high-tow'ring shed their milder tints,

346

TOMB OF MARY ROBINSON.

As through the church-way path they skirt along,
Their low-bow'd branches flutt'ring on the breeze;
The sombre Cypress, the dark-colour'd Yew,
Mingling their shades, throw round an awful gloom,
Drap'ry congenial, o'er the silent Dead!
Here may THE MORALIST, in pensive thought,
When Twilight drops his ebon curtain down,
Roam o'er the dreary precincts of the grave;
Or, when the Orb of Night illumes the sky,
By tender sympathies alone possess'd,
Muse o'er each Tomb that glitters on his eye,
And from the sculptur'd urn, or clod-built grave,
May point a moral to the young and gay-
Instructive lecture on the pride of Man!
Hark! that solemn sound-it tells a simple tale-
Some weary'd Peasant trav'lling to his home,-
But, see-THEY COME, with pensive steps and slow➡
The white-rob'd Priest, the sable Mourners there,
Winding their way along the green-arch'd Aisle!
The BIER arriv'd, the solemn dirges o'er,

Entomb'd in dust, the PEASANT sleeps in peace!—
Oh! may THE BARD, whene'er his days shall close,
Sleep with this Peasant in his rustic cell,

And, when the Trump shall sound, THE DEAD awake,
Awake with him, in modest silent trust,

To share with him, if such the high behest,

Th'eternal meed awarded to THE JUST!

In the Church-yard I met with the tomb of the beautiful, but unfortunate, Mary Robinson, whose talents, both in prose and poetry, excited general admiration. She was the daughter of a merchant at • Bristol, where she was born, 1758, and educated there by Mrs. Hannah More and her sisters. A very early

OLD WINDSOR CHURCH-YAD.

347

marriage led to all her misfortunes; and, as she erred from the path of rectitude, to her lot fell a full portion of calamity. Dying at Englefield Green, Dec. 25, 1800, and now consigned to the peaceful sabbath of the grave-here she lies where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest! Some lines, written by herself, and also stanzas by Mr. Pratt, are inscribed upon her tomb. Her Memoirs, written by herself, and Posthumous Pieces, were published by her daughter. An artist of eminence assured me that, taking her portrait, when young, he never met with a human countenance which, in his opinion, approximated so nearly to angelic perfection.

On most of the tombs in this church-yard I was pleased to observe, that the inscriptions recorded the praises of FEMALE EXCELLENCE, as having sweetened and adorned the several departments of private life. The affectionate Daughter, the tender Mother, and the beloved Wife, are mentioned with the appropriate tribute of commendation. Indeed, these are the most endearing ties of humanity-torn asunder, alas! by the ravages of the grave! But the resurrection of the Just wipes away this reproach of our nature and, by a delightful recognition of each other, UNITES the dearest relatives, as well as the most beloved friends, throughout the countless ages of ETERNITY!

*My late worthy friend, JOSEPH SLATER, ESQ., whose three sons (my much-esteemed pupils) inherit the genius of their pa rent, and are rapidly rising in their profession.

348

FROGMORE HOUSE.

Not far from this truly romantic church-yard, stands the Cottage of the PRINCESS ELIZABETH, in the decoration of which much taste is shewn, and, upon the whole, has been bestowed no inconsiderable attention. Its rustic aspect is marked by a fascinating simplicity.

We next proceeded to FROGMORE HOUSE, the favourite residence of HER MAJESTY. An ancient possession of the crown; it is mentioned in The Merry Wives of Windsor In the civil wars it became the seat of one of Charles the Second's natural sons, George Fitzroy. It was the residence afterwards of Marshal Belleisle, upon his release from the Round Tower in Windsor Castle. The house is a modern structure, improved by Mr. James Wyatt. "The interior (says Mr. Hakewill) contains the following apartments, fitted up with an excellent simplicity. A library well furnished with modern authors, an eating room, in which are portraits of the Princess of Sterlitz, HER MAJESTY's mother and sister, and of the Princes her brothers. The chimney-place of this room was brought from Italy by the Duke of Sussex. It is of statuary marble, enriched with masks and Bacchanalian symbols of excellent workmanship; a cabinet of natural history; a botanical library, in which room is an oak tree, dwarfed after the manner of the Chinese; a billiard room; a pavilion decorated by flowers, painted by Mrs. Lloyd, R. A. formerly Miss Moser; the Princess Royal's first closet, so called form its being furnished with the drawings of her

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