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spirit, pressing heavily. I want to know, but I am ignorant; I wish to admire, but I am awestruck. I long to enjoy the scene around me, but I cannot; tears would be a relief to me. Seated on a moss-grown stone, I seem equally moved by the durability and desolation of this stupendous pile.

Ages seem present; shadowy giant forms,
And fantasies that throng the heated brain,
Are flitting to and fro; unhallowed rites,
Obscene and cruel, and unearthly shapes,
Start into being;

Silence, and time, and dread eternity,

Are gathering round me, crowding on my thoughts. Many remains, colossal, massy, and secluded, have I gazed on with solemn feelings; but never do I remember such arresting, mysterious solemnity being excited within me by mouldering castle, abbey, church, or priory, as that which now oppresses me. It is strange; but these huge, uncouth, erect, and frowning stones seem embued with the spirit of by-gone ages. They over-awe me as they stand, gloomily questioning, as it were, my right to trespass within their shadowy circle. That single stone, that mighty fallen fragment yonder, is a ruin in itself. There it lies, like the carcase of some overthrown Druidic Goliath, an opposer and defier of the living God!

How can I account for the fact, that one so fond of abstraction and scenes of solitude as I, should now experience sensations bordering almost on fear? These huge, grey stones, flinging their broad shadows, seem displeased; and I feel as though I should be safer at a distance, on the exposed plain, than among them.

In other ruins we call to remembrance the manners and customs of ancient times, peopling our pathway, and calling around us armed men, and abbots, and abbesses, and hooded friars, and white-robed nuns, as the case may be; but here we have nothing but vague and shadowy legends, wild and unearthly traditions, to enable us to conjecture the forbidding forms that have moved beneath the dark shade of these gigantic stones. Imagination takes the place of memory, and, influenced by the appalling gloom that pervades the spot, conjures up shapes of human victims reeking in sacrifice; while Druidic priests, sullen, cruel, and implacable, stand around the crimson-stained altar, shrouded with superstition, mystery, and death. It is a relief to turn to the merciful and purifying influences of the Christian dispensation, calling to remembrance that "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but

have everlasting life," John iii. 16. Oh that the abominations of idolatry were done away throughout the world, and that every pagan temple was, like this, in ruins!

The circus, or hippodrome, the vestiges of which Dr. Stukely discovered half a mile north of the temple, was above ten thousand feet long; and the Barrows, gigantic mounds of earth, where bodies have been committed to the ground, are full of interest; but he who has mused in this mighty ruin has enough to occupy his mind without other pursuits. Stonehenge, whether regarded as a grand temple, a huge altar, an imposing trophy, a solemn carnedd, or a mighty cromlech, arrests the eye and heart of every spectator. It is a monument of antiquity that in every sense stands alone, huge, uncouth, unequalled, grand, wonderful, and incomprehensible.

How can I account for the fact, tha fond of abstraction and scenes of solitu should now experience sensations borde most on fear? These huge, grey stone ing their broad shadows, seem displeased feel as though I should be safer at a diste the exposed plain, than among them.

In other ruins we call to remembra” manners and customs of ancient times, p our pathway, and calling around us armed and abbots, and abbesses, and hooded fria white-robed nuns, as the case may be; bi we have nothing but vague and shado" gends, wild and unearthly traditions, to us to conjecture the forbidding forms that moved beneath the dark shade of these gi stones. Imagination takes the place of me and, influenced by the appalling gloom tha vades the spot, conjures up shapes of li victims reeking in sacrifice; while D priests, sullen, cruel, and implacable, around the crimson-stained altar, sh. with superstition, mystery, and death. a relief to turn to the merciful and p influences of the Christian dispensation,. to remembrance that "God so loved the that he gave his only begotten Son, the soever believeth in him should not peri

the white-headed seneschal and the grey-haired harper. The cries of the herald, the clangour of the trumpet, the clashing of the arms, the rush of the combatants, and the loud shout of the admiring spectators, rung in my ears. The scene changed, and the tourney gave place to the feast; the board was heaped with goodly viands, and knights and peerless dames sat side by side; and the minstrel's lay prevailed, together with the peal of mirth and revelry.

How lonely is the place! The solitude is almost sadness; for I hear no sound, and I see no moving thing. The clouds are motionless in the sky; and not a leaf, among the verdant mass of ivy that adorns the towers, is stirring.

I remember a frowning pile of stones at yonder angle, that used to threaten the spectator as he stood beneath it, for its summit largely overhung its base; but it is gone now: no doubt, it toppled over years ago. It strikes me, too, that the ruin is somewhat lower, or the ground it stands on somewhat higher than it was, but this may be my fancy. The whole pile to me appears more aged than formerly. If Kenilworth looks older than it did, then how must it be with me? If these massy stones have felt the touch of time since I beheld them, no marvel that the same finger should have left

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