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The visitor may place himself, in the first instance, at the opposite corner of the Great Quadrangle, and so combine, in one grand spectacle, the beauties of the North and West sides of the edifice. He will find that the converging lines forcibly suggest a vanishing point, and if that vanishing point should in its turn suggest the thought, 'would that it were on the point of vanishing!' he may perchance, like the Soldier in the Ballad, 'lean upon his sword' (if he has one: they are not commonly worn by modern tourists), 'and wipe away a tear.'

He may then make the circuit of the Quadrangle, drinking in new visions of beauty at every step—

'Ever charming, ever new, When will the Belfry tire the view?'

as Dyer sings in his well-known poem, 'Grongar Hill'—and, as he walks along from the Deanery towards the Hall staircase, and breathes more and more freely as the Belfry lessens on the view, the delicious sensation of