The Irish standard., 1895-01-05

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ABODE OF HEROES.
Continued from First Page. #
est enemies together. next entered the
beautiful chapel Of st. Paul In ancient |
times, hearing mass in this chapel con-
ferred an indulgence Of two years and
twenty days. The cloth which held the
head of it's patron saint, after Nero's de-
capitation Of him at Rome. and some OF
st. Paul's blood and finger are said to
have been presented to the Abbey as rel
les, by Edward the Confessor. The pic
tureeque magnifcence Of the tomb in tt .
''c1naue oento" style, with the mixture OF
all orders, obelisks, arches, SCROLLS, varie-
gated marbles, gliding and color, is
abundantly shown in this chapel. The
tomb OF Sir Thomas Bromley, Queen
Elizabeth's chancellor, and the one who
presided at the trial of Mary Queen OF
Scots, and died Immediately afterward
is buried here. This tomb, and some
others of this chapel, are among the best
specimens of the monuments OF their
period. And who is this that turns his
back contemptuously on the great kings
Of England? It must be some mighty
giant to oyerwhelm and assert the rath-
less victory oyer all in it's neighborbood.
Is it not the symbol Of the power 0, CO in
active antagonism to art and beauty!
Yes, it ls the hero of steam and machin-
cry, James Watt. If the spirit of mech.
anism be as some say, essentially ma
terial, where is there better illustration
of it than here? It is singularly map
propriate monument for a medieval
church. In the chapel of st. John, the
evangelist, ST.. Michael and St. Andrew,
two monuments deserve special notice,
Roubiliac's sLady Nightingale" and the
tomb of Sir Francis We're. Of the first
we can say it is beautiful mistake, yet
it touches every heart and when once
seen is never effaced from tie memory.
The expression of the agonized busbald
warding off the blow, which death is
about to strike, and of the wife beau iful
to the last, and the perfect execution of
all the parts, are the works of genius
only The whole conception Of death,
however, emerging from the tomb as a
skeleton, seems to be vulgar and melo-
dramic. Ascending now a few mean
looking stairs, and squeezing through
the small space between the column aud
Edward the Flrst's tomb, we reach the
floor of the Confessor's chapel. This
great saint was the real founder Of the
Abbey which he erected in 1850. It is
said to have been the first church in
England in the shape Of . cross. The
dzsolation Of the chapel, where on all
sides the illustrious dead are slumbering
in their sepulchers, reads an awful les
son on mutability. The shrine before
which the highest and hottest bowed
lowly and reverently for centuries is now
neglected by all but a few Roman Cath
olics, who in early morning frequent the
South Transept to catch glimpse OF it.
It's recesses once resplendent with jew
eled images now hold but broken GALL
pots, end drawing bards of the artist.
Side by side with the ancient chair in
which all the s,vereigns have been
crowned, from Edward II. to the pres
emit queen, you may chance to meet
with delapidated rush bottom seat,
used by students of the picturesque. Here
still continued to disturb this haunt Of
ancient piece, till found myself in
Poets Corner, which occupies the South
Transcript or Cross aisles of the Abbey.
Though you vieit Poets Corner daily,
it's mystic grandeur seems always to
grow. At all points the endless perspec'
tive lead into mysterious gloom, where
the eye cannot pace their termination
and imagination pictures what is beyond.
Perhaps in no Gothic building is this
characteristic better illustrated than at
this corner of the Abbey. The much
praised view in nave, with it's reiteration
of arches and columns, is certainly i'm
posing. But we see the end of it, and it
wants that symbolical and mysticism
and infinitude which prevail at Poets
Corner. The monuments here are Rener-
ally simple, for the lives of literary men
afford no striking themes for the tculp-
tor. I have pleased myself with consld-
eripg this a chosen spot where we can
mediate on those ancient bards who
passed their whole life in celebrating the
glory of their nation in poetic song. Well
may we cherish the sacred memory of
poets; and the cause of poetry. Did not
Cicero say in pleading for Arctuas, the
49, itD1oI,c OVID 1onorfa ron1v IN fho M.