Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/234

208 As chanced, the portals of the sacred Pile

Stood open, and we entered. On my frame,

At such transition from the fervid air,

A grateful coolness fell, that seemed to strike

The heart, in concert with that temperate awe

And natural reverence, which the Place inspired.

Not framed to nice proportions was the Pile,

But large and massy; for duration built.

With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld

By naked rafters intricately crossed,

Like leafless underboughs, in some thick grove,

All withered by the depth of shade above.

Admonitory Texts inscribed the walls,

Each, in its ornamental scroll, enclosed,—

Each also crowned with winged heads—a pair

Of rudely-painted Cherubim. The floor

Of nave and aisle, in unpretending guise,

Was occupied by oaken benches, ranged

In seemly rows; the chancel only shewed

Some inoffensive marks of earthly state

And vain distinction. A capacious pew

Of sculptured oak stood here, with drapery lined;

And marble Monuments were here displayed