(Tho' less than that of Memnon's statue, warm
In Egypt's rays, to harp at a fix'd hour)
To this gray ruin, with a voice to charm,

Sad, but serene, it sweeps o'er tree or tower: The cause I know not, nor can solve; but such The fact: - I've heard it,- once, perhaps, too

much.

Amidst the court a gothic fountain play'd, Symmetrical, but deck'd with carving quaintStrange faces, like to men in masquerade,

And here perhaps a monster, there a saint: The spring gush'd thro' grim mouths, of granite made,

And sparkled into basins, where it spent Its little torrent in a thousand bubbles,

Like man's vain glory, and his vainer troubles.

The mansion's self was vast and venerable,
With more of the monastic than has been
Elsewhere preserved: the cloisters still were stable,
The cells too and refectory, I ween:
An exquisite small chapel had been able,
Still unimpair'd, to decorate the scene;
The rest had been reform'd, replac'd or sunk,
And spoke more of the baron than the monk.”*

* Some very few copies, for "the Baron," in this line, read "the Colonel;" but this is a mistake.

CATHOLICISM.

233

CATHOLICISM.

It was one morning towards the close of our visit at Newstead, that, having risen at an earlier hour than usual, I took my book for a walk in the cloisters, until our party should be summoned to breakfast; and hardly had I entered upon the subject of my meditations, when my eye suddenly caught the figure of Eloise coming, as I thought, out of the chapel, and gliding past the openings of the opposite cloister, towards that which lay between us. I accordingly directed my course that way, and as she put foot upon the first of the winding steps that lead to a secret door communicating with the gallery above, I stopped her. Though a little confused at the suddenness of the meeting, she quickly recovered herself, and enquired into the cause of my early appearance, for which I could give as unsatisfactory an account as she did of hers. Changing the subject to matters of

her