[Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey".]
And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost
forever? Has this mind, so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful
and magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the
life of its creator;--has this mind perished? Does it now only exist
in my memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and
beaming with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and
consoles your unhappy friend.
Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight
tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart,
overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I will
proceed with my tale.
Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved
to post the remainder of our way, for the wind was contrary and the
stream of the river was too gentle to aid us. Our journey here lost
the interest arising from beautiful scenery, but we arrived in a few
days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to England. It was on a
clear morning, in the latter days of December, that I first saw the
white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames presented a new
scene; they were flat but fertile, and almost every town was marked by
the remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort and remembered the
Spanish Armada, Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich--places which I had
heard of even in my country.
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