of ancient cities, the mouldered castle, the stately monastery, the
humble cot,--grandeur and homeliness, history and superstition, truth
and fable, succeeding one another so as to blend into a whole.

"But," added Trevylyan, a moment afterwards, "the Ideal is passing
slowly away from the German mind; a spirit for the more active and the
more material literature is springing up amongst them. The revolution
of mind gathers on, preceding stormy events; and the memories that
led their grandsires to contemplate will urge the youth of the next
generation to dare and to act."*

* Is not this prediction already fulfilled?--1849.

Thus conversing, they continued their voyage, with a fair wave and
beneath a lucid sky.

The vessel now glided beside the Seven Mountains and the Drachenfels.

The sun, slowly setting, cast his yellow beams over the smooth waters.
At the foot of the mountains lay a village deeply sequestered in shade;
and above, the Ruin of the Drachenfels caught the richest beams of the
sun. Yet thus alone, though lofty, the ray cheered not the gloom that
hung over the giant rock: it stood on high, like some great name on
which the light of glory may shine, but which is associated with a
certain melancholy, from the solitude to which its very height above the
level of the herd condemned its owner!

CHAPTER X. THE LEGEND OF ROLAND.--THE ADVENTURES OF NYMPHALIN ON THE
ISLAND OF NONNEWERTH.--HER SONG.--THE DECAY OF THE FAIRY-FAITH IN
ENGLAND.

ON the shore opposite the Drachenfels stand the Ruins of
Rolandseck,--they are the shattered crown of a lofty and perpendicular
mountain, consecrated to the memory of the brave Roland; below, the
trees of an island to which the lady of Roland retired, rise thick and
verdant from the smooth tide.

Nothing can exceed the eloquent and wild grandeur of the whole scene.
That spot is the pride and beauty of the Rhine.

The legend that consecrates the tower and the island is briefly told; it
belongs to a class so common to the Romaunts of Germany. Roland goes to
the wars. A false report of his death reaches his betrothed. She retires
to the convent in the isle of Nonnewerth, and takes the irrevocable
veil. Roland returns home, flushed with glory and hope, to find that
the very fidelity of his affianced had placed an eternal barrier between
them. He built the castle that bears his name, and which overlooks the
monastery, and dwelt there till his death,--happy in the power