Apart From This, Windsor Has Been Immortalized By The
Merry Wives; It Has Still Standing In Its Park The Herne Oak, Where
The Mischievous Fairies Played Their Pranks Upon Old Falstaff.
And the castle still has about it the charm of the poet's
"Search Windsor Castle, elves, within, without,
Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room,
That it may stand till the perpetual doom
In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit,
Worthy the owner, and the owner it.
The several chairs of order, look you, scour
With juice of balm and every precious flower,
Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest,
With loyal blazon evermore be blest.
And nightly, meadow fairies, look you, sing
Like to the garter's compass, in a ring.
The expressure that it bears, green let it be,
More fertile, fresh, than all the field to see,
And Honi soit qui mal y pense, write
In emerald tufts, flowers, purple, blue, and white,
Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,
Fairies use flowers for their charactery."
As if for the loyal purpose of recommending old Windsor, the English
skies had cleared up into brightness. About nine o'clock we found
ourselves in the cars, riding through a perpetual garden of blooming
trees and blossoming hedges; birds in a perfect fury of delight. Our
spirits were all elated. Good, honest, cackling Mrs. Quickly herself
was not more disposed to make the best of every thing and every body
than were we. Mr. S., in particular, was so joyous that I was afraid
he would break out into song, after the fashion of Sir Hugh Evans, -
"Melodious birds sung madrigals:
Whenas I sat in Babylon," &c.
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