Abbas.
1082, and Gislebertus Crispinus. Abbas. 1114, and Laurentius.
Abbas. 1176). I remained some little while, musing over these
casual relics of antiquity thus left like wrecks upon this
distant shore of time, telling no tale but that such beings had
been and had perished, teaching no moral but the futility of that
pride which hopes still to exact homage in its ashes and to live
in an inscription. A little longer, and even these faint records
will be obliterated and the monument will cease to be a memorial.
Whilst I was yet looking down upon the gravestones I was roused
by the sound of the abbey clock, reverberating from buttress to
buttress and echoing among the cloisters. It is almost startling
to hear this warning of departed time sounding among the tombs
and telling the lapse of the hour, which, like a billow, has
rolled us onward towards the grave. I pursued my walk to an
arched door opening to the interior of the abbey. On entering
here the magnitude of the building breaks fully upon the mind,
contrasted with the vaults of the cloisters. The eyes gaze with
wonder at clustered columns of gigantic dimensions, with arches
springing from them to such an amazing height, and man wandering
about their bases, shrunk into insignificance in comparison with
his own handiwork.
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