This is understood to be the natal soil of Gower,—the father of English poetry,—and therefore classic ground:—
"Here, in the olden time the 'moral' Gower
Attuned his harp upon that rocky strand;
Gather'd the shell, and pluck'd the vernal flower,
And struck the wild chord with a master's hand.
To him the summer sea, the stormy wave,
Were heaven-born music in their various keys;
As, thundering through yon subterranean cave,
The billows sang in chorus with the breeze."
The railway from Oystermouth to Swansea is a source of great convenience to the inhabitants, as a means of ready intercourse between the most frequented points of the coast adjacent. Newton, proverbially known as a healthy station for invalids and sea-bathers, and Caswell Bay, within half-an-hour's walk of Oystermouth, are well deserving of a stranger's attention. The latter is remarkable for the number and extent of the marine caverns already alluded to, as well as for the beauty and variety of the sea-shells with which the sands at low water are profusely enamelled.
THE MUMBLES' LIGHTHOUSE.
"Amidst the storms,—when winds and waves are high,
Unmoved I stand,—undimm'd I shed my light;
And through the blackness of December's sky
I pour effulgence on the seaman's sight."
Inscription for a Lighthouse.