“O whilst thy season of flowers, and thy tender sprays thick of leaves remain; I will pluck the roses from the brakes; the flowerets of the meads, and gems of the woods; the vivid trefoils, beauties of the ground, and the gaily smiling bloom of the verdant herbs, to be offered to the memory of a chief of fairest fame: Humbly will I lay them on the grave of Ivor!”
Shakspeare also, with exquisite tenderness:
“With fairest flowers while summer lasts
I’ll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack
The flower that’s like thy face, pale Primrose; nor
The azur’d Harebell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of Eglantine, whom not to slander
Outsweeten’d not thy breath.”
Highly pleased with Briton ferry, we proceeded along the coast, and passed through the little town of Aberavon. Its copper and tin works added no charms to the verdant fertility of this part of the country, which appeared ornamented with several gentlemen’s seats, and well planted hills; but, grandly rising above comparison, “the mighty hill of Margam,” a steep mountain entirely shaded with oaks from the base to its “cloud-cap’t” summit, arrested our chief attention.
Margam park, belonging to Mr. Talbot, is chiefly to be noticed for its orangery; a magnificent pavilion of the Doric order, 327 feet in length, wherein the orange-trees are arranged in unfavourable weather: but on our visit, these trees, to the amount of a hundred and fifty, from six to ten feet high, and all in full bearing, were agreeably disposed in a sequestered part of the garden. [153] Margam abbey was until within these few years the mansion of the estate; but it is now pulled down: some low ruins, however, remain, and the walls of its elegant but neglected chapter-house. This structure is thus described by Mr. Wyndham, who visited the spot about thirty years since: “It is an elegant Gothic building, of a date subsequent to that of the church. Its vaulted roof is perfect, and supported by a clustered column rising from the centre of the room. The plan of this chapter-house is an exact circle, fifty feet in diameter. The just proportion of the windows, and the delicate ribs of the arches, which all rise from the centre column and the walls, gradually diverging to their respective points above, must please the eye of every spectator; and, what is uncommon in light Gothic edifices, the external elevation is as simple and uniform as its internal, there being no projecting buttresses to disturb or obstruct its beauty.”—“The preservation of this building led me to conclude, that much attention had been given to the lead that originally covered it; but, to my astonishment, I heard that the lead had long since been removed, and that the only security of the roof against the weather was a thick oiled paper, which by no means prevented the rain from penetrating and filtering through the work.” Mr. Wyndham concludes by trusting, that, as the present proprietor is a lover of antiquities, the deficiency would be corrected. But, unfortunately, the edifice was left to its fate, and the roof soon fell in: thus one of the finest specimens of Gothic architecture in this or any other country is lost to the eye of taste and science.
Just perceptible from the turf we traced the foundation of the Abbey Church, and the bases of four clustering pillars that most probably supported the tower; the steps of the altar were also visible, besprinkled with grass; and, turning over some fragments, we picked up part of the chalice for containing holy water, and several of those coloured glazed tiles which were used in the early Norman age for paving principal buildings, but commonly called Roman tiles. We were informed by Mr. Snook, the intelligent gardener of the place, who was present at the dilapidation of the abbey, that the pavement formed with these tiles was the lowermost of three which were then removed; and that on digging deeper they came to an immense heap of human bones. This pavement is still in many places remaining, though nearly concealed by a covering of moss. Many curious sculptured stones of high antiquity are to be met with in the park, and in the village adjoining; the church of which presents, in its elevation, a more pleasing symmetry and composition than any Gorman work that I remember to have seen. [155] A shady walk, carried beneath the leafy mantle of Margam’s hill, passes a ruined chapel, and a loggan or rocking-stone, in its way to the summit, where a prospect of uncommon extent greets the beholder. Eglis Nunne, about two miles south of Margam, now a farmhouse, was formerly a nunnery subject to that abbey.
Renewing our journey, we left Kenfig on our right, where some vestiges of a castle built by one of Fitzhammon’s knights are said to appear, and proceeded to Pyle. The inn here, built by Mr. Talbot, and which might be mistaken for a nobleman’s seat, affords excellent accommodation for travellers, who are frequently induced to make it their head-quarters while visiting the several objects in the neighbourhood.—Leaving Pyle, we soon found ourselves on Newton Down, and from its height discovered the range of hills forming the opposite boundary of the vale of Cowbridge, in which a bold hill crowned with Penline Castle was eminently conspicuous. On looking back, we were pleased with a comprehensive view of the country that we had lately traversed: beyond the wide bay of Swansea, the whitened habitations of Ostermouth caught our eye; the sulphureous clouds revolving from the works of Swansea and Neath were only divided by the projection of Kilway hill; and the picturesque knolls of Briton ferry appeared sunk into comparative littleness beneath the towering dimensions of Margam’s shady mountain.—Our tour now became thickly interspersed with baronial castles and other monuments of feudal times, interesting either by their historical events or picturesque decay.
CHAP. XI
OGMORE CASTLE—EWENNY PRIORY—DUNRAVEN-HOUSE—ST. DONATT’S CASTLE—LLANBITHIAN CASTLE—COWBRIDGE—PENLINE CASTLE—COITY CASTLE—LLANTRISSENT—BENIGHTED RAMBLE TO PONT-Y-PRIDD—WATERFALLS.