Hildebrand; or, The Days of Queen Elizabeth, An Historic Romance, Vol. 2 of 3Anonymous
History
Hildebrand; or, The Days of Queen Elizabeth, An Historic Romance, Vol. 2 of 3
Anonymous
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction
He had gone but a short way down the walk, when he broke off
into the park, on the side where, after following the line of
the outer heath for some distance, it takes a sweep round to
the river. It was a beautiful evening, and the hour, which was
approaching eight, was not so advanced but that it was quite
light. Everything looked gay, and buoyant, and cheerful; and,
though the splendour of the day had passed off, the verdure of
the grass and foliage, which had now attained its most perfect
tint, had lost none of its freshness, or looked a whit less green
in the mild light of the evening. The nimble fawns, too, which
were scattered in groups over the prairie, evidently met the
evening with a welcome, and sported and raced about with unwonted
spirit. Now in groups, anon in pairs, or singly, they shot
across the park, or, like trusty sentinels, watched the solitary
passenger who had intruded on their domain, as though his
vicinity and progress caused them alarm. But Sir Walter, absorbed
in meditation, noted none of these things. He pursued his way
over the area without looking round; and the sweet tranquillity
of the scene, which, in its diversity of wood, and hill, and
dale, all clothed with verdure, embraced a hundred beautiful
accidents, quite escaped his perception.
Thus progressing, he came to the top of a high hill, looking down
on the river, and crowned, about the centre of its summit, with
a solitary oak. This fair tree, which gives the hill its name,
was then arrayed in foliage, and, in its upland situation, looked
truly like the monarch of the realm below.
Pausing on the crown of the hill, he seemed, for the first time
during his ramble, to understand his local position, and to
look with interest and pleasure on the objects around. In its
peculiar features, the landscape which those objects constituted
had no peer in the world. In his rear lay the noble park, with
its surface varied by fair valleys, and gentle eminences, topped
with trees; and, here and there, traversed by broad avenues, to
which unbroken lines of oak and elm, but principally oak, were
appropriate landmarks. On his side, at the verge of the park,
rose the stately palace, with a flag, on which was emblazoned
the royal arms, floating from each of its two dome-capped towers,
and marking it as the residence of the Sovereign. Beyond could be
seen a forest of tall masts, which a glance on his further side,
down the river, would change for a view of Kent, extending as
far as Shooter’s Hill. Opposite to him was spread the low coast
of Essex, creeping back, from where its turfy limit was laved by
the river, to inland heights, which tall woods seemed to mark as
its natural boundary. Before him flowed the matchless Thames,
coursing along, on either hand, as far as the eye could reach, in
twenty graceful sweeps; and bearing on its calm bosom hundreds of
barks, with their white sails swelling under the volume of the
evening breeze.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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