In the preceding notice of St. Albans, the narrow limits assigned to this work has made it necessary to confine our sketches and observations to the more striking features of the Abbey and its vicinity. Where the materials are so abundant and inviting, and where only a few characteristic portions can be admitted, their selection must be always attended with more or less difficulty; but in the present instance, it is hoped, the order of subjects has been so arranged as to present the reader with a faithful picture of the Abbey as it now is, and such as, with the vast improvements in contemplation, it may continue to be for ages to come. For the lives and acts of its “forty abbots and one,” we must refer our readers to the chronicles of the Abbey, and the other sources of information hereunto annexed. “Now closes the scene; and here,” in the words of the historian, “may we behold fallen and set for ever the glory and splendour of this and all other of those religious corporations, which, with most pious intentions in the founders, with general good conduct in the rulers, with most grateful acceptance in the sober and virtuous of all ranks, had provided for the wants and necessities of men; and the revenues, which had cheered the hearts of the naked and hungry, now turned out of the channel of hospitality and beneficence, to be dissipated and wasted in the voluptuous pleasures and base gratifications of the court and its followers.” “Here forty <g>abbots</g> have ruled and one, Twenty with palle and mitre on, And bowed them to the Pope alone. Their hundred monks, in black arrayed, The Benedictine rules obeyed; O’er distant lands they held their sway; Freed from Peter’s-pence were they; The gift of palle from Pope they claimed, And cardinal-abbots were they named; And even old Canterbury’s lord Was long refused the premier board; For this was the first British martyr’s bier, And the Pope said ‘His priest shall have no peer.’ Now know ye <g>St. Alban’s</g> bones rest here! Kings and heroes here were guests In stately halls, at solemn feasts. But now, nor dais nor halls remain; Nor fretted window’s gorgeous pane Twilight illuminated throws, Where once the high-served banquet rose.”--ANNE RADCLIFFE. [Illustration]