290 THE BUSTS OF THE CHOIR. but in the Minster of Ulm I was principally arrested by the stalls of the choir. They are of Oak (it is unnecessary to say,) of the most exquisite tabernacle-work. Their distinguishing feature is, that they are adorned on either side with three tiers of busts, Pagan, Hebrew, and Christian, the one range most scrupulously separated from the other. On the North side, the lower range is illustrated by the busts of Pythagoras, Socrates, Cicero, Seneca the Younger, Pliny, Ptolemy, and so forth. Above are the Hebrew worthies; and highest of all those who truly counted this world a pilgrimage, the disciples and martyrs of Him Crucified. On the South side, each grasping her mystic book, is a corresponding sibyl; over them you distinguish such illustrious forms as Miriam, Deborah, Jael, and Judith; while (occupying the foliated shrines above) those gentler Graces, the Three Maries, are gladly recognised among the Christian Heroines. The original design is beautiful, and to the antiquary doubly so, since the head dresses of both Heroes, Heroines, Christian, Jew, and Heathen afford a valuable insight into the Costume of the period. The Tabernacle of the Sacrament resembles that in the Church of Lorens at Nuremberg, but loses much of its effect by being engaged in an angle of the pier. It is All Hallow Eve; and never did its mystic Twilight close above a fairer vale than this bewitching Filsthal. Here the rival Monarchs of the Moor and the Forest hold their solemn Courts in each other's confines,-screening in purple pomp the Western and Northern horizon;—while, protected by their majestic thrones, the soft slopes and vales glitter in green luxuriance. Woody Villages and broad old Manor houses;-Castle towers and Church spires;-Mills, Bridges, and Brooks;-Meadows enriched with old trees, and Hedgerows painted with the profuse red blazonry of Autumn,-compose the wealthy Domain over which these mighty Paramounts reign in guardian grandeur. The Moon is up, and the Sun is setting. But amid all this beauty and wealth, the most beautiful things are they which the eye involves not in its delighted glance, and which are unrevealed even to the ear till closely approached-I mean the thousand Fountains that by Moor and Wood, by Churchyard and Orchard, in dark deep Lanes or in the flowery hollows, burst from the green earth in bright and beaded gushings, scattering freshness and verdure around their swelling margents. And while, amidst the other liberal gifts of Art and Nature, the majestic River or the vasty Lake alone are wanting here, these Fairy 292 THE HIDDEN WELLS. Wells, each from their ruddy Rock or Moss-clad Basin, starred with delicate landcress, and overcanopied with the fern and foxglove, springing at the root of some brown Oak or umbrageous Sycamore, produce unseen that rich verdure and that sweet music which renders this soft nested valley and its environs so delicious. "And now 'twas like all Instruments, Now like a lonely Flute, And now it is an Angel's Song, That makes the Heav'ns be mute. "It ceased; yet still the Sails made on A noise like of a hidden Brook In the leafy month of June; COLERIDGE'S Ancient Mariner. Even such is Life! where the loftier Virtues and the most prominent situation alone attract attention, while the thousand nameless Amenities that endear, enliven, and adorn existence glide along their modest course, contented with the happiness they see springing around them; to be discovered by none but those who love to investigate the retiring virtues, but to be fully appreciated only by those who dwell within their lovely and useful influence. Barricaded by mountains, and commanded by Baronial ruins, that might be creditable to the Rhine or the Rhone, the little Fils waits only for HOHENSTAUFEN. 293 its wondrous wooden bridge to be married to the great Neckar, and in the meantime indulgently allures her current through orchard and villages in the valley, beneath towers and forests on the hill. The vast Castles of Raunsec and Reichberg, with that ancient Church, rear their towers against the storm clouds of the mountainous horizon; while the truncated cone of Hohenstaufen, the cradle of the Imperial Red Beard, from whose platform every Vane and Portal have long vanished, stands in its deprivation among its feudal Peers like a King uncrowned. It was a Temple in Mona, which, long since (like Hohenstaufen) erased from earth, but canonized in the rainbow-domains of tradition, elicited from the lyre of Collins such poesy as this: "Whether the fiery-tressed Dane, Or Roman's self o'erturn'd the Fane, 294 WITHERING WOODS. I have avowed my fondness for colours, but how shall I pronounce a panegyric upon great Nature's pencil. I do not speak of those enamelled Gardens, where the Crocus, the Carnation, the Lilac, the Violet, and the Rose have to thank her for their particoloured apparel, but the Forests of Autumn, of stately, solemn, wonderworking Autumn ! Methinks I see the antique Wizard in yonder mountain Woodland stealing through its recesses with his melancholy eye and thoughtful pace, and his enchanted Pallet in his hand, putting in a dash of Vermillion here, engraining a broad mass of Orange there, transmuting at a touch one tree into a fountain of Gold, and its neighbour into a burgonet of Carbuncles, while here and there and everywhere, as if in defiance of the Magician's spell, some huge old Pear tree shews his glossy green. No! never did old minster aisle smoulder with a refulgence at once so sad and so august as that lamplight of the fading year which gilds these romantic Forests. Tinctured with every hue from red to black, mirrored in the silvery tranquillity of the river, waving over the sward of some broad meadow, or caressing some hill, garlanded with Traditionary Turrets, it rivals the blazonry of Shields and Legends, which tell their story in some old Church Window,-prized, however, by me beyond the |