cottage-door, with her daughter kneeling beside her--a sketch from those
halcyon days, when, in the beautiful allegory of Scripture, "every man
sat under his own fig-tree." This is followed by the "Elysian Tempe of
Stourhead," the seat of Sir Richard Colt Hoare, to whose talents and
benevolence Mr. Bowles pays a merited tribute. Longleat, the residence
of the Bishop of Bath and Wells, succeeds; and Marston, the abode of the
Rev. Mr. Skurray, a friend of the author from his "youthful days,"
introduces the following beautiful descriptive snatch:--

And witness thou,
Marston, the seat of my kind, honour'd friend--
My kind and honour'd friend, from youthful days.
Then wand'ring on the banks of Rhine, we saw
Cities and spires, beneath the mountains blue,
Gleaming; or vineyards creep from rock to rock;
Or unknown castles hang, as if in clouds;
Or heard the roaring of the cataract.
Far off,[5] beneath the dark defile or gloom
Of ancient forests--till behold, in light,
Foaming and flashing, with enormous sweep,
Through the rent rocks--where, o'er the mist of spray,
The rainbow, like a fairy in her bow'r,
Is sleeping while it roars--that volume vast,
White, and with thunder's deaf'ning roar, comes down.

[5] At Shaffhausen.

Part III. opens with the following metaphorical gem:--

The show'r is past--the heath-bell, at our feet,