Amid this dance of objects sadness steals O'er the defrauded heart--while sweeping by, As in a fit of Thespian jollity,[HF] Beneath her vine-leaf crown the green Earth reels: Backward, in rapid evanescence, wheels 5 The venerable pageantry of Time, Each beetling rampart, and each tower sublime, And what the Dell unwillingly reveals Of lurking cloistral arch, through trees espied Near the bright River's edge. Yet why repine? 10 To muse, to creep, to halt at will, to gaze-- Such sweet way-faring--of life's spring the pride, Her summer's faithful joy--_that_ still is mine, And in fit measure cheers autumnal days.[487] "Saturday 22nd.--We were anxious, at least Wm. was, to be in Switzerland, and we must follow our destiny. Leaving the rich plain, came to the fine range of mountains we saw yesterday, and to the side of the glorious river, by which we have since travelled. Magnificent heights on its banks. The most abrupt and fantastic outlines; Convents (what an exquisite one that first which pushed itself forward on the green shore, where the river bends in its course); Ruined Castles, looking at each other from aloft, or down upon the convents, lurk in the woody clefts; picturesque Villages with their spires, at every turn of this stately winding river; beautiful road following its windings; every variety of form given to the rocks; and affecting intimations brought to mind, by the frequent oratories and crosses, here neither tawdry nor obtrusive. After changing horses at _Remengen_, lost sight for a while of our noble companion, which soon reappeared stretching along a more widely-spread vale; the green hills softly retiring, vineyards climbing up their sides, and into every crevice; corn yellow-green, the different crops richly filling the centre of the vale; the fine road, bordered now by apple-trees laden with fruit, now open to the undivided plain. Again the hills approached, and never was beheld a grander display of Nature's works and of human Art, than continued in succession to feast our eyes and imaginations. D. noted the objects _individually_, in one of the most beautiful passages" (of her journal). (Mrs. Wordsworth.)