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I will, however, quote from "The Sleeping Bard, or Visions of the World,
Death and Hell," his translation of Elis Wyn's "Y Bardd Cwsg." The book
would please Borrow, because in the City of Perdition Rome stands at the
gate of Pride, and the Pope has palaces in the streets of Pleasure and of
Lucre; because the Church of England is the fairest part of the Catholic
Church, surmounted by "Queen Anne on the pinnacle of the building, with a
sword in each hand"; and because the Papist is turned away from the
Catholic Church by a porter with "an exceedingly large Bible." "One fair
morning," he begins:

"One fair morning of genial April, when the earth was green and pregnant,
and Britain, like a paradise, was wearing splendid liveries, tokens of
the smile of the summer sun, I was walking upon the bank of the Severn,
in the midst of the sweet notes of the little songsters of the wood, who
appeared to be striving to break through all the measures of music,
whilst pouring forth praise to the Creator. I, too, occasionally raised
my voice and warbled with the feathered choir, though in a manner
somewhat more restrained than that in which they sang; and occasionally
read a portion of the book of 'The Practice of Godliness.'"

And in his vision he saw fiends drive men and women through the foul
river of the Fiend to their eternal damnation, where

"I at the first glance saw more pains and torments than the heart of man
can imagine or the tongue relate; a single one of which was sufficient to
make the hair stand erect, the blood to freeze, the flesh to melt, the
bones to drop from their places--yea, the spirit to faint. What is
empaling or sawing men alive, tearing off the flesh piecemeal with iron
pincers, or broiling the flesh with candles, collop fashion, or squeezing
heads flat in a vice, and all the most shocking devices which ever were
upon earth, compared with one of these? Mere pastime! There were a
hundred thousand shoutings, hoarse cries, and strong groans; yonder a
boisterous wailing and horrible outcry answering them, and the howling of
a dog is sweet, delicious music when compared with these sounds. When we
had proceeded a little way onward from the accursed beach, towards the
wild place of Damnation, I perceived, by their o