De Gretna Green à Land's End : un voyage littéraire en Angleterre . a eu leur brève saison de joie. 319 SOMERSET ET DEVONSHIRE Low était notre joli lit bébé, notre plus haut rosePeeped à la fenêtre de chambre. On pouvait hearAt muet midi, et la veille, et tôt mornLe mer est un murmure pâle. Dans l'airAur myrtle ouvert s'est fleuri; et à travers les jasmines porchThick ont scinné. C'est ici que ce poète de la promesse infinie, le rapt un du front de godike.La créature aux yeux du ciel, a écrit son iEolian Harp, son * Frost au milieu de la nuit, et d'autres paroles ont touché avec une sérénité et une douceur indétestées, et ici thatHartley C

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From Gretna Green to Land's End : a literary journey in England . had their brief season of joy. 319 SOMERSET AND DEVONSHIRE Low was our pretty cot; our tallest rosePeeped at the chamber window. We could hearAt silent noon, and eve, and early mornThe seas faint murmur. In the open airOur myrtle blossomed; and across the porchThick jasmines twined. It was here that this poet of boundlesspromise, The rapt one of the godlike forehead.The heaven-eyed creature, wrote his iEolian Harp, his * Frost at Mid-night, and other lyrics touched with an un-wonted serenity and sweetness, and here thatHartley Coleridge was born. But our first walk took us by the beach andacross the fields to that obscure and soli-tary church where lies Tennysons Arthur, son of Henry Hallam the historian, and him-self a poet. He was in Vienna when Gods finger touchd him and he slept, and Tennyson linked the Austrian and theEnglish rivers in his elegy. The Danube to the Severn gave The darkend heart that beat no more;They laid him by the pleasant shore.And in the hearing of the wave.320. SOMERSET AND DEVONSHIRE There twice a day the Severn fills;The salt sea-water passes by.And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills. The ancient church, now but seldomopened for service, was locked, and we hadto hunt for the sexton. It was dusk whenhe arrived, but we groped our way to thesouth transept and, by the light of a liftedtaper, made out the pathetic farewell: VALE DULCISSIMEVALE DILECTISSIME DESIDERATISSIMEREQUIESCAS IN PACE It was this tablet that haunted the restless-ness of Tennysons grief as, on moonlightnights, he would seem to see that lustre whichfell across his bed gliding through the tran-sept window and becoming a glory on thewalls. The marble bright in dark appears. As slowly steals a silver flame Along the letters of thy name. And oer the number of thy years. The mystic glory swims away; From off my bed the moonlight dies;And closing eaves of wearied eyesI sleep till dusk is d

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