260 

 Through bright July, or rich September ;— 



EuLns ! how we loved them then ! 



How we loved the haunted glen 



Which grey towers overlook, 



Mirrored in the glassy brook. 



How we dreamed, — and how we guessed, 

 Looking up with earnest glances. 



Where the black crow built its nest, 

 And we bmlt our wild romances ; 



Tracing in the crumbled dweUing 



Bygone tales of no one's telling ! 

 It is a privilege of the poet, even when he is most descriptive, 

 that he should give play to his imagination, and clothe the dead 

 thing with living associations. That is done in the Fragment 

 before us ; we have a visionaiy glimpse of those who went in and 

 out, — those who revelled in these now deserted halls ; but yet the 

 city of the piece cannot be regarded as a legend, or as a myth, or 

 as a generalisation of many ruins, or as being in any sense whatever 

 a poetic fable. Spite of all its decorations it is the description of a 

 real city, which was present to the eye or very fresh in the memory 

 of the poet who composed this unique little poem. Whether that 

 city was or was not the old Roman city of Akmanchester, is a 

 question which I shall not pretend to decide. I shall only, in the 

 character of an advocate for a favourite fancy, invite your attention 

 to the best arguments that I can produce for its probability. The 

 chief obstacle with which I have to contend is the extreme difficulty 

 of representing the poem by a modern translation ; but I will do 

 my best, making it an object to be literal where I can, but above 

 all to be faithful in the spirit of the reproduction, 



THE EUINED CITY. 

 Strange to behold is the stone of this wall, Wraetlic is *ea weal stan, 

 broken by fate, wyrde gebraecon : 2 



1. Weal stan — Compare healwudu in Beowulf, 2628. Contrast stan hofu 

 below, 1. 77, and we see that the largeness of the blocks of stone was the 

 object of attention here. 



2. EttmiiUer corrects wyrde gebrocen, broken by fate ; or " wyrde grbrecum," 

 with the breaches of fate. This appears the simplest and most natural 

 correction. Grein reads "wyrSige brsecon," which he renders, the streets 

 have been broken up. 



