Godstow

the poet replied very earnestly my child if i may be allowed please never rest upon a cloud whatever else you do you might while lying there fall fast asleep you see and as time passed your couch might break in two or as your cloud went sailing by some mountain top or spire high might bump you black and blue or say you slumbered softly there rocked by the west wind I declare a weather-vane! Look! Do! The poet pointed excitedly ahead to where a picturesque ship weather-vane had just appeared above the slowly settling clouds.

It's exactly like the one on the big old house at the turn of the river near Godstow, exclaimed Alice.

The clouds, which during the last few minutes had been flattening out and settling— had changed by now to a rather milky-looking sea through which the wethervane ship seemed to be sailing alice as they neared the vessel was surprised at her size and completeness why i do believe it's a real ship she cried and what's that name on the stern well chuckled the poet may i be pursued by the pump in the alley if that's not the crazy old somersault sally when they arrived on the sloping deck of the antiquated somersault sally the first thing alice noticed was a number of enormous white rats in sailor suits busily engaged in coiling up cordage Perhaps, she said to herself, those ropes are the rat lines.

But why, she asked the poet, should anyone want rats for sailors? The poet considered a moment, and then said, Rats always leave a sinking ship, you see.

It speaks not of the bitter misery of the one, nor the distress occasioned to the other, nor most probably the making known by Rosamond in the first moment of her dismay that she believed herself the wife of the man who had entailed such wretchedness upon her.

But whatever might have passed at that interview, its result was the retiring of Fair Rosamond from her secret bower to the nunnery of Godstow, where she passed twenty years of her weary life, and died when she was forty years of age in the high odor of sanctity.

Her grave remained unclosed according to the fashion of the times, but a sort of temporary covering, somewhat resembling a tent, was raised immediately above it.

The coffin and the tent were both before the altar, and over them was spread a pall of fair white silk, with tapers burning round, and richly emblazoned banners waving over.

Or, say you slumbered softly there, rocked by the west wind, I declare, a weather vane! Look, do!" The poet pointed excitedly ahead to where a picturesque ship weather vane had just appeared above the slowly settling clouds.

"It's exactly like the one on the big old house at the turn of the river near Godstow," exclaimed Alice.

The clouds, which during the last few minutes had been flattening out and settling, had changed by now to a rather milky-looking sea through which the weather-vaned ship seemed to be sailing.

Alice, as they neared the vessel, was surprised at her size and completeness.

Huic nempe pueae spectatissimae fecerat rex apud Woodstock mirabilis architecturae cameram operi dedelino similem, ne forsane e regina facile deprehenderetur.

Sed ea cito obiet, et apud Godstow juxta Oxonium in capitulo monialium in tumbe decenti est sepulta, ubi talis suprascriptio invenitur.

Hic iacet in tumbe Rosamundi, non Rosamunda, non redoluit, sed oluit, quae redolere solet.

It would appear from this account that the bower was a labyrinth of an architectural kind, perhaps like that mentioned in chapter fourteen as having been built at Arles by Louis of Bourbourg in the previous century, not, as popularly believed, a maze of evergreens.

It will be seen also that Henry did not long enjoy his clandestine delights, for Rosamund shortly died and was buried before the high altar of the nunnery church of Godstow.

Her death is believed to have taken place about 1176.

It is possible that she had entered the nunnery some time before that.

According to the contemporary analyst Roger de Hoveden, her body was removed in 1191 by Bishop Hugh of Lincoln on moral grounds and was apparently reinterred in the chapter house.

And a well-known Oxford physician has kindly given me an interesting account of his discovery of a great northern diver swimming disconsolately in a large hole in the ice near King's Weir one day during the famous Crimean winter of 1854-55.

This splendid bird he shot with a gun borrowed from the inn at Godstow.

During the spring and early summer of 1866, our visitors from the seacoast were constant and numerous.

Even the beautiful and graceful little tern, Sterna minuta, more than once found his way here, and on the second occasion saved his own life by the confidence which he seemed to repose in man.

There is, however, in this case, at least a plausible answer to Mr. Harding's question.

Owing to the prime necessity of reeds for the building of this deep sheltered nest, which is swung between several of them, kept firm by their centrifugal tendency, yielding lovingly yet proudly to every blast of wind or current of water, owing to this necessity, the reed warbler declines to take up his abode in any place where the reeds are not thick enough and tall enough to give a real protection to himself and his brood.

Now in the whole length of the Isis between Kennington and Godstow and of Cherwell between its mouth and Parson's pleasure, there is no reed bed which answers all of the requirements of this little bird.

Now and then, it is true, they will leave the reeds for some other nesting place.

At any rate, soon after she and Eleonora became acquainted with each other's existence, Rosamond retired to a convent, and lived there in complete seclusion all the rest of her days.

The name of this convent was Godstow.

It was situated near Oxford.

Rosamond became a great favorite with the nuns while she remained at the convent, which was nearly twenty years.