happy period in which she had wandered, devoid of care, through the wild-wood walks surrounding her native valley; and sighing at the idea, that felicity such as she then experienced would never, never more return.
Unheeding whither or how far she went, she rambled on till her progress was unexpectedly stopped by the monumental pillar of Lord Philippe.
A kind of awful fear now took possession of her; a fear, which the idea of the distance she had wandered from the chateau, the lateness of the present hour, and the deep gloom surrounding her, inspired; a
———long cathedral aisle of shade
led to the pillar, around which clustered
cypress and bay,
Funereal, pensive birch, its languid arms
That droops, with waving willows, deem'd to weep,
And shiv'ring aspins———
