James's palace on a full
court-day. The place itself is calculated to impress the mind with
sentiments of veneration and of heart-moving reminiscences; seated in
the bosom of one of the richest landscapes in the kingdom, where on
the height majestic Windsor lifts its royal brow; calmly magnificent,
over-looking, from his round tower, the surrounding country, and waving
his kingly banner in the air: 'tis the high court of English chivalry,
the birth-place, the residence, and the mausoleum of her kings, and
"i' the olden time," the prison of her captured monarchs. "At once, the
sovereign's and ~101~~ the muses' seat," rich beyond almost any
other district in palaces, and fanes, and villas, in all the "pomp of
patriarchal forests," and gently-swelling hills, and noble streams, and
waving harvests; there Denham wrote, and Pope breathed the soft note of
pastoral inspiration; and there too the immortal bard of Avon chose
the scene in which to wind the snares of love around his fat-encumbered
knight. Who can visit the spot without thinking of Datchet mead and the
buck-basket of sweet Anne Page and Master Slender, and mine host of the
Garter, and all the rest of that merry, intriguing crew? And now having
reached the foot of the mount and old druidical barrow, the flag is
again waved amid the cheers of the surrounding thousands who line its
sides, and in their carriages environ its ancient base.
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