over each river a bridge of solid
but graceful structure, it lay in the lap of a most fruitful valley. A
broad, crescent-shaped plain, fringed by the rapid Meuse, and enclosed
by gently-rolling hills, cultivated to their crests, or by abrupt
precipices of limestone crowned with verdure, was divided by numerous
hedgerows, and dotted all over with corn-fields, vine-yards, and
flower-gardens. Many eyes have gazed with delight upon that well-known
and most lovely valley, and many torrents of blood have mingled with
those glancing waters since that long-buried and most sanguinary age
which forms our theme; and still, placid as ever is the valley, brightly
as ever flows the stream. Even now, as in that banished but
never-forgotten time, nestles the little city in the angle of the two
rivers; still directly over its head seems to hang in mid-air the
massive and frowning fortress, like the gigantic helmet in the fiction,
as if ready to crush the pigmy town below.' How like the _Ueberfahrt_ of
Uhland:--

'Ueber diesen Strohm, vor Jahren,
Bin ich einmal schon gefahren,
Hier die Burg, im Abendschimmer,
Drueben rauscht das Wehr, wie immer.'

We may quote his description of the great square of Brussels, the scene
of the double execution of Montmorency, of Horn, and the gallant and
unfortunate 'Count d'Egmont,' not only as an example of his dignified
and sustained style, but also as an evidence of his sensitiveness to
those minor refinements of association and place that bespeaks the
talented artist. 'The great square of Brussels had always a striking and
theatrical aspect. Its architectural effects, suggesting in some degree
the meretricious union between Oriental and a corrupt Grecian art,
accomplished in the mediaeval midnight, have amazed the eyes of many
generations. The splendid Hotel de Ville, with its daring spire and
elaborate front, ornamented one side of the place; directly opposite was
the graceful but incoherent facade of the Brood-huis, now the last
earthly resting place of the two distinguished victims; while grouped
around these principal buildings rose the fantastic palaces of the
Archers, Mariners, and other guilds, with their festooned walls and
toppling gables bedizened profusely with emblems, statues, and quaint
decorations. The place had been alike the scene of many a brilliant
tournament and of many a bloody execution. Gallant knights had contended
within its precincts, while bright eyes rained infl