(_For the Mirror_.)
Hark! the curfews solemn sound;
Silence, darkness, spreads around.
There are now but few places in which this ancient custom--the memento
of the iron sway of William the Conqueror--is retained.
Its impression when I heard it for the first time, will never be effaced
from my memory. Let not the reader suppose that it was merely the
_sound_ of the bell to which I allude; to use the language of Thomas
Moore, I may justly say, "Oh! no, it was something more exquisite
still."
It was during the autumn of last year, that I had occasion to visit the
eastern coast of Kent. Accustomed to an inland county, the prospect of
wandering by the sea shore, and inhaling the sea breezes, afforded me no
trifling degree of pleasure. The most frequented road to the sea, was
through a succession of meadows and pastures; the ground becoming more
irregular and broken as it advanced, till at last it was little better
than an accumulation of sand-hills. I have since been informed by a
veteran tar, that these sand-hills bear a striking resemblance to those
on that part of the coast of Egypt, where the British troops under the
gallant Abercrombie were landed.
The evening was beautifully calm, not a sound disturbed its
tranquillity; and the sun was just sinking to repose in all his dying
glory. At this part of the coast, the sands are hard and firm to walk
upon; and on arriving at their extremity, where the waves were gently
breaking at my feet, "forming sweet music to the thoughtful ear," I
looked around, and gazed on the various objects that presented
themselves to my view, with feelings of deep interest and pleasure. The
evening was too far advanced to discern clearly the coast of France, but
its dim outline might just be traced, bounding the view. Every now and
then a vessel might be seen making her silent way round the foreland,
her form gradually lessening, till at last it was entirely lost in the
distance. As it grew darker, the strong, red glare of the light-house
shedding its lurid gleams on the waves, added a novel effect to the
scene.
At the very moment I was turning from the shore, to retrace my steps,
the deep tone of a distant bell fell on my ear. It was the Curfew
Bell--which had been tolled regularly at eight o'clock in the evening,
since the days of the despotic William.
The vast changes that had taken place in society, in fact, in every
thing, since the institution of this custom, occupied my thoughts during
my walk; and I felt no little gratification in the assurance that what
was originally the edict of a barbarous and despotic age, was now merely
retained as a relic of ancient times.
It may be thought romantic, but the first hearing of the Curfew Bell
often occurs to my memory; and there are times when I fancy myself
walking on that lone shore, and the objects that I then thought so
beautiful, are as distinctly and vividly seen as if I were actually
there.