WINDSOR CASTLE.
Windsor Castle loses a great deal of its architectural impression (if I may use that word) by the smooth neatness with which its old towers are now chiselled and mortared. It looks as if it was washed every morning with soap and water, instead of exhibiting here and there a straggling flower, or creeping weather-stains. I believe this circumstance strikes every beholder; but most imposing, indeed, is its distant view, when the broad banner floats or sleeps in the sunshine, amidst the intense blue of the summer skies, and its picturesque and ancient architectural vastness harmonizes with the decaying and gnarled oaks, coeval with so many departed monarchs. The stately, long-extended avenue, and the wild sweep of devious forests, connected with the eventful circumstances of English history, and past regular grandeur, bring back the memory of Edwards and Henries, or the gallant and accomplished Surrey.
On Windsor Castle, written 1825, not by a LAUREATE, but a poet of loyal, old Church-of-England feelings.[8]
Not that thy name, illustrious dome, recalls
The pomp of chivalry in banner'd halls;
The blaze of beauty, and the gorgeous sights
Of heralds, trophies, steeds, and crested knights;
Not that young Surrey here beguiled the hour,
"With eyes upturn'd unto the maiden's tower;"[9]
Oh! not for these, and pageants pass'd away,
gaze upon your antique towers and pray—
But that my SOVEREIGN here, from crowds withdrawn,
May meet calm peace upon the twilight lawn;
That here, among these gray, primaeval trees,
He may inhale health's animating breeze;
And when from this proud terrace he surveys
Slow Thames devolving his majestic maze,
(Now lost on the horizon's verge, now seen
Winding through lawns, and woods, and pastures green,)
May he reflect upon the waves that roll,
Bearing a nation's wealth from pole to pole,
And feel, (ambition's proudest boast above,)
A KING'S BEST GLORY IS HIS COUNTRY'S LOVE!
The range of cresting towers has a double interest, whilst we think of gorgeous dames and barons bold, of Lely and Vandyke's beauties, and gay, and gallant, and accomplished cavaliers like Surrey. And who ever sat in the stalls at St. George's chapel, without feeling the impression, on looking at the illustrious names, that here the royal and ennobled knights, through so many generations, sat each installed, whilst arms, and crests, and banners, glittered over the same seat?—Bowles's History of Bremhill.