Bishop Gower's Palace St. Davids.
Turning from the scene of these miraculous events, we pass a group of lowly cottages and enter the ruined gateway of the palace. Across a stretch of greensward, close-cropped by flocks of sheep, rise the ruined walls of Bishop Gower's lordly dwelling; the open-arched parapets casting a dappled shade athwart the grass-grown courtyard.
Built in the Decorated style that prevailed throughout the fourteenth century, this interesting structure extends around a quadrangle, of which two sides remain in fair preservation, the others being either much in ruins, or entirely razed to the ground. Everything here speaks of peace and bygone hospitality. A wide ogee archway adorned with sculptured niches gives access to the banqueting-hall, an apartment of noble proportions adorned with an exquisite rose window still in good preservation. Near at hand rises the chapel, with its picturesque bell-turret and pointed windows; while over all runs a pretty open arcade, borne upon huge corbels embellished with grotesque heads and strange fantastic monsters. A pleasant variety has been obtained by arranging the stonework above the arches in a kind of diaper pattern, as may be seen in the accompanying sketch taken from the meadows, whence the rose window forms a very charming feature. With the lapse of time these venerable ruins have mellowed into all sorts of harmonious hues, where golden lichens, valerian and climbing plants innumerable, have run riot over the rough purple sandstone.
The Palace St. David's From The Meadows.
From the ford across the little stream beneath the palace walls, a charming view is obtained of the ancient bridge and its rough, ivy-clad abutments, backed by the massive front of the cathedral and the picturesque tower and arches of St. Mary's College.
Built by Bishop Adam Houghton towards the close of the fourteenth century, the college chapel, with its vast Perpendicular windows, must in former times have presented an imposing appearance. Here the founder lay at rest under a sumptuous canopy, of which, however, not a vestige now remains. Beneath the chapel is a low groined crypt, but the various collegiate offices which lay to the north have long since been swept away; while the crumbling arcades of the cloisters serve nowadays to shelter the benches of the masons employed in repairing the cathedral.
St. Non's Chapel, the reputed birthplace of St. David, stands in an open meadow overlooking the sea, about a mile outside the city. It is a mere tumbled mass of rude cyclopean masonry, and has no features worthy of note save a simple cross enclosed within a circle, engraved upon an upright slab of stone. An ancient well dedicated to St. Non, the mother of St. David, occupies a corner of the same field.