1819-20
THE SKETCH BOOK
THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE
A COLLOQUY IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY
by Washington Irving
I know that all beneath the moon decays,
And what by mortals in this world is brought,
In time's great period shall return to nought.
I know that all the muse's heavenly lays,
With toil of sprite which are so dearly bought,
As idle sounds, of few or none are sought,
That there is nothing lighter than mere praise.
DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN.
THERE are certain half-dreaming moods of mind, in which we naturally
steal away from noise and glare, and seek some quiet haunt, where we
may indulge our reveries and build our air castles undisturbed. In
such a mood I was loitering about the old gray cloisters of
Westminster Abbey, enjoying that luxury of wandering thought which one
is apt to dignify with the name of reflection; when suddenly an
interruption of madcap boys from Westminster school, playing at
foot-ball, broke in upon the monastic stillness of the place, making
the vaulted passages and mouldering tombs echo with their merriment. I
sought to take refuge from their noise by penetrating still deeper
into the solitudes of the pile, and applied to one of the vergers
for admission to the library.
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