"The darkened roof rose high aloof,
On pillars lofty, light, and small;
The key-stone that locked each ribbed aisle
Was a fleur-de-lis, or a quatre-feuille.
The corbels were carved grotesque and grim,
And the pillars with clustered shafts so trim,
With base and with capital flourished around,
Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound."
As we came into the midst of this glorious old structure, we actually stood silent for some time, so filled were we with admiration at its wondrous beauty. To be sure, the blue arch of the heavens is now its only roof, and from the shattered walls rooks or jackdaws fly noisily overhead; but, then, the majestic sweep of the great Gothic arches, that vista of beauty, a great Gothic aisle still standing, fifty feet long, and sixty feet from floor to key-stone, the superb columns, and the innumerable elegant carvings on every side, the graves of monarch, knight, and wizard, marked with their quaint, antique inscriptions at your feet, and
"The cloister galleries small,