Appendix.

“When day, with farewell beam, delaysAmong the opening clouds of even,And we could almost think we gazeThrough golden vistas into heaven;Those hues which mark the sun’s decline,So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine!”—Moore.

At length a poetic sound breaks upon the ear—the whetting of a scythe; and how picturesque are the fields beyond! After passing through a succession of luxurious meadows, you arrive at the humble and ivied ruins of aPiscatory. This building is apparently of ancient date, and was intended to supply the monastery during those numerous fasts in which the goodabbotswere wont to exchange “the very best meat for the very best fish.”[175]Soon after passing this ruin, the hitherto placid Wye falls noisily over a broad and shallow weir, and the steep wood encroaches upon its rocky bank. Our footsteps, therefore, pursue a sinuous path through its deep and pensive shade, until we somewhat suddenly emerge upon a tabular meadow, encompassed by an amphitheatre of ivied rocks, a stupendous rampart, at whose base the Wye is winding, and, at the same time, reflecting in its peaceful bosom the majestic scene.[176]

Climate of Tinterne.—On this subject, a late intelligent medical practitioner at Tinterne says:—“I may here remark, that I am unacquainted with any warmer spot than this in England. Protected on the north and west by a steep hill, it is open alone to the east and south: it has therefore the sun upon it during the greater part of the day. On the third of February, 1839, at half-past 2 in the afternoon,” he adds, “while my thermometer on the mantel-shelf over the fire ranged at 60°, it rose to 99° outside the door. At nightfall, which ushered in a severe frost, the mercury fell to 44°. On the twenty-third of the same month, at 3 o’clockP.M., the thermometer ranged at 109° Fahrenheit, or nearly 34° Reaumur; at half-past 11 at night, the mercury fell to 45° Fahr. On the fifteenth of May, at 12.16P.M., the thermometer on the mantel-shelf indicated 50° Fahr. At 3P.M.a violent snow-storm came on, succeeded at nightfall by a nipping frost.” These facts sufficiently indicate

The Door into the Cloister.Tinterne Abbey.

The Door into the Cloister.

Tinterne Abbey.

the capricious nature of the climate of Tinterne, where the transitions from a winter to a high summer temperature, andvice versa, are so frequent and remarkable.

Incidental Remarks.—During the plunder of this abbey church, which was long carried on with impunity, many interesting relics of antiquity appear to have been either mutilated, or carried off and sold. Among other fragments of ancient art, was a brass hand grasping a spear, taken from a tomb in the church in which was found a body entire, with leathern buskins, and buttons on the coat; but which, on exposure to the air, crumbled into dust. Human skeletons, we are told, were found in an orchard to the eastward, formerly the abbey cemetery. From the size of these—monks or soldiers—it was ascertained that their living owners must have been considerably beyond the common stature. On the legs of one of them were found cloth buskins in apparent preservation; while the metal studs, or buttons, it is added, were almost bright. No coffins were found; the bodies were simply deposited under large flat stones; and were probably of an order inferior to those interred within the church. Adjoining the north door, a portion of wall, long supposed to be the side of a cloister, was at last stripped of the ivy that covered it, and disclosed a range of fine Gothic windows.[177]And when the rubbish that encumbered the entrance leading into the cross aisle was removed, two stones were found inscribed with the following memorials:—

Hic jacet Johannes de Lynas.Hic jacet Henricus de Lancaut.[178]

At the entrance by the west doorway a flight of steps was also discovered, which at the time was supposed to communicate with a vault, or crypt, under the church. But the passage was not explored; and the stone with which the opening was originally covered, was restored to its place. It is the opinion of antiquaries, however, that there is no crypt, or vault, under the church. Of

Tinterne village, which still seems to derive its support from casual visitors to the abbey, much cannot be said in commendation. Little, if any improvement seems to have been made for many years, owing, we were told, to the restrictions laid upon building. With encouragement in this respect alone—or even with the ordinary accommodations of a spacious inn[179]—the place might speedily change its complexion, and become a cheerful and thriving hamlet. But, as in the days of Gilpin, it presents nothing inviting. The penury of the inhabitants may be less remarkable; “but they still occupy little huts raised among the ruins of the monastery, and seem as if a place, once devoted to indolence, could never again become the seat of industry.” “As we left the abbey,” says he, “we found the whole hamlet at the gate, either openly soliciting alms, or covertly, under pretence of carrying us to some part of the ruins which each could show, and which was far superior to anything which could be shown by any one else. The most lucrative occasion could hardly have excited more jealousy and contention.” In the present day, the duties of the abbeyciceroneare performed by a sensible and well-informed guide, named Christian Payne.

Ofthe accommodations to be had at Tinterne Abbey in his day, Captain Barber has left the following reminiscence:—“Having despatched an attendant for a barber on my arrival at the inn, a blacksmith was forthwith introduced, who proved to be the only shaver in the place. The appearance of this man, exhibiting, with all the grim sootiness of his employment, his brawny arms bare to the shoulders, did not flatter me with hopes of a very mild operation; nor were they increased when he produced a razor that, for massiveness, might have served a Polyphemus. I sat down, however, and was plentifully besmeared with soap-suds. After this he attempted to supply the deficiency of an edge, by exerting his ponderous strength in three or four such vigorous scrapes as, without exciting my finer feelings, drew more tears into my eyes than might have sufficed for a modern tragedy. I waited no longer; but releasing myself from his iron gripe, determined to pass for a Jew Rabbi, rather than undergo the penance of another ‘shaving atTinterne.’”

Plan of the Abbey.—The following simplified description may probably assist the reader to form a correct notion of the sacred and conventual buildings, of which the abbey was originally composed; and of the various compartments into which, in their former and perfect condition, these were so admirably arranged and subdivided:—

Entering the church by the west doorway, the visitor passes along the nave, with the “pillared aisles” on his right and left, and the newly-discovered pavement. In the distance, and directly opposite, under the great east window, is the high altar, as distinctly shown in the engraved illustration. Moving along thenave, he observes five distinct clustered pillars, surmounted by the magnificent arches, described in these pages. At the commencement of the north and south transepts, he will examine the bases of the four massive columns which formerly supported the great central tower; the doors and windows of the transepts; the sepulchral fragments scattered along the smooth grassy parterre of the choir; then, at the north-west corner of the north transept, he will ascend a few steps of a spiral staircase leading to the top of the church; and, from the gallery which runs round within the wall, look down on the scene before and beneath him. Descending to the transept floor, he will enter a door near the angle where the nave and north transept unite; and entering a passage northward, through a richly ornamented doorway, he will observe the following apartments, viz.:—

The Cloisteron the left, forming a considerable quadrangle, the sides of which are of the same length as the nave of the church, on which it closely abuts, running parallel with it to the west doorway, and bordering the public road. Here, also, are some mutilated sepulchral effigies of ancient abbots, crosses, &c., from which the inlaid brasses have been sacrilegiously purloined. On the right hand of the visitor, as he enters, is the ancient

Vestry, or sacristy, an oblong chamber, divided into two compartments, the second of which opens by a doorway into the NorthTransept. Closely adjoining this on the north, is

The Chapter-house, of the same form and dimensions as the vestry, but not subdivided. Farther again on the right is a large hall, with the remains of five central pillars that supported the arched stone roof, supposed to be the ancient

Hospitium, or guest-chamber, already described in these pages. On the east of this, and running parallel with it, are the remains of offices or apartments—probably dormitories—the precise use of which has not been ascertained. Beyond, eastward, lay the Cemetery. Adjoining the Hospitium on the west, and connecting it with the Refectory, are several small buildings, with the remains of other dormitories on the upper floor. Immediately adjoining this, on the west, is the

Refectory, a spacious hall, in which the brethren, as already described, sat at table. TheLectern, or pulpit-desk, at which a reader presided during meals, is still visible about the middle of the west side. From the refectory, a tourniquet-door, for the passage of viands only, communicated with thekitchen; and close to this is thedole, where the indigent and wayfaring poor were daily supplied with victuals and refreshments. The kitchen runs parallel with the cloisters, and the west entrance of the church, along the public road leading to the ferry.

The Scale annexed to the Plan of the Abbey—as shown by the woodcut—will enable the reader to ascertain, with tolerable accuracy, the dimensions of all the compartments named.

1Doorway leading into theCloisters.2Effigiesof Abbots—the brasses removed.3Door leading into the Vestiary and Sacristy.4TheChapter-house—bases of pillars.5SupposedHospitium, or Guest-Hall—bases of central pillars.6Buildings, with dormitories in the upper floor.7TheLectern, or Reading-Desk, during meals.8Tesselatedpavement, lately discovered.9Staircaseleading to the Triforia, and top of the abbey.10Aperture for serving the dishes from the kitchen.11Dole, for the distribution of food to the poor.Proportions.—Length of Chancel and Nave,228feet.Length of Transepts across,150“Height of the Tower Arches,70“Height of the lesser Arches,30“

As a specimen of the marvellous connected with these ruins, we cannot resist introducing another characteristic

Legend.—A party of gentlemen—horresco referens—who had inspected the abbey, employed several labourers to dig in the orchard adjoining, in hopes of discovering some antiquities. Part of one day and the following night were spent in this employment, when at last they were successful, and two human skeletons were discovered. Next day the same party resolved to celebrate their discovery by a dinner in the abbey. But scarcely had they commenced their sacrilegious repast, when a thick darkness overspread the horizon; deep thunder raised its tremendous voice, and shook the surrounding hills; lightnings flashed

Tintern Abbey.West Front.

Tintern Abbey.

West Front.

throughout the ruin in sheets of livid flame; hail, succeeded by torrents of rain, deluged the plain, and

“Peal on pealCrashed horrible, convulsing earth and heaven!”

During this sudden and tremendous visitation, the indignant spirit ofStrongbow—accompanied by the spectral forms of many whose death-sleep had been thus wantonly disturbed—arose from the grave, and fixed his eyes upon the petrified strangers. Then raising his gauntleted hand, he pointed to the abbey door—which at the sight had mysteriously opened—and sternly beckoned the impious visitors to depart! The awful signal was instantly obeyed; and some crawling, others trembling—all pale and speechless, the daring adventurers rushed from his presence, they knew not how, and fled they knew not whither; while the savoury viands left behind them were instantly swept over the abbey walls in a whirlwind.

The Engraved Views of Tinterne Abbey.

I.—The West Entrance,[180]a beautiful specimen of Decorated Gothic; the principal feature of which is the great west window, of which all visitors and writers on this subject have expressed their unqualified admiration. The stonework of this magnificent feature is nearly entire; the five mullions, tall, slender, and elaborately moulded, retain their original forms; and, terminating in the rich flowing tracery that fills and completes the arch, appear as if they wanted nothing but the ancient painted glass to restore the window to its primitive splendour. The ivy inserting itself into every joint, and hanging in graceful festoons, seems more like artificial garlands woven in honour of a fête day, than as the sure emblem and evidence of dilapidation and decay. Beneath this window is the richly-carved double doorway leading into the nave. On the right hand is another window communicating with the southern aisle, surmounted by a window of three compartments, and two buttresses terminating in pinnacles, of which only one remains. On the left hand is the north aisle, in form and dimensions exactly corresponding with the former, but much less perfect. Closely adjoining this were the abbey cloisters, the remains of which have been noticed in a former page.

II.—The Vale of Tinterne,[181]as it is seen from a point—in the woods covering the left bank of the Wye—called the Devil’s Pulpit. This engravingconveys a most correct, beautiful, and comprehensive view of the abbey, and its circumjacent scenery. In the backgrounds is seen the hill country stretching westward towards Monmouth. On the left, crowning an eminence that overlooks the village and abbey, stands the church of Chapel-hill, with the characteristic feature of an immense yew-tree expanding its gloomy branches over the cemetery. Beneath is seen the public road from Chepstow running westward, and branching off in the village to right and left; the latter branch running along the hills towards Raglan, and the former following the course of the Wye to Monmouth. To the right, under the wooded rocks which appear to overhang its channel, the Wye is seen making a curve like a horseshoe, so as to form a peninsula, the outer rim of which, as described in the text, is lined with houses that rise one above the other, and planted here and there with tall poplars, and refreshed with numerous springs and rivulets, that, after murmuring down the rocks, throw their crystal tribute into the Wye. Here the river is seen enlivened with passage-boats, by means of which a daily communication between the villages above and below the abbey is kept open for the conveyance of market produce, or the convenience of passengers.

In the foreground lies the glory of the scene—theabbeyand its appendages—the latter much curtailed; but once, as history informs us, enclosing the goodly space of thirty-four acres. The view looks down upon the conventual church, showing the nave and transepts in their cruciform proportions, with the magnificent east window opening upon some rich productive orchards, the ground of which was consecrated in former times as the abbey cemetery. Stretching along the river eastward is a luxuriant tract of pasture land, called the Abbots’ Meadows, already described. Nothing can be more soothing and tranquil than this scene, embosomed, as it is, among sylvan landscapes, and bordered by a river whose smooth yet swift-flowing waters are heard in the calm summer evening like distant music.

“And ever, as the summer sun goes down,From bank to bank, amidst yon leafy bower,The woodland songsters trill harmonious notes;Till every tree that crowns the verdant steep,Or shades the stream, that flows in amber light,Sends forth its melody.”

III.—From the Chancel, westward.[182]This is justly considered to be the most imposing view in the whole abbey; and is that to which every stranger visiting the ruins is conducted at the close of his survey. The point from which it is taken, is under the area of the great tower, near the further angle of the north transept and chancel. Looking through the lofty arches that supportedthe central tower, it takes in the west window, the window of the north aisle, the nave, and on the right, thedoorwayleading into the cloisters—of which an engraving is here given—with the massive clustered pillars, lofty and delicately moulded arches, in which an airy lightness, combined with strength and solidity, strike the spectator with feelings of awe and admiration, to which it is hardly possible to give expression—

“Silence sublime, and stillness how profound;Yet every arch, with clustered ivy hung,And every column, as thou gazest round,Seems to address thee in thy native tongue;Telling how first these mighty structures rose,And how they fell beneath their Vandal foes.”

In the centre are the two sepulchral slabs, already described in another portion of the text; and on the left, leaning against the base of one of the pillars, is a mutilated statue, supposed to be that of Roger Bigod, or Gilbert de Clare, as shown in the woodcut, page 41. In various parts of the chancel, choir, and transepts, as well as in the nave and aisles, many dilapidated fragments are collected in heaps; among which the visitor will distinguish pieces of elaborate carving, particularly some ingenious and fancifully sculpturedbosses, the connecting ornaments of the richly-groined roof that once overhung this gorgeous temple, and echoed back the anthems of its assembled choir.

IV.—From the Ferry,[183]on the opposite or left bank of the Wye. On the foreground is the landing-place, from which a road,[184]or bridle-path, winding along the wooded heights, already noticed in our description of the ‘Devil’s Pulpit,’ presents many picturesque, and some romantic points of view. The river is here the boundary line between the counties of Monmouth and Gloucester, or, anciently, between England and South Wales. Directly opposite, and terminating the causeway leading up from the ferry, is an archway, the ancientwatergateof the abbey. Through this gate the monastery received its supplies from the barges that daily ascended and descended the river, or lay at anchor under the protection of the abbey; for here, we were told, there is depth of water—which is increased at every tide—sufficient to float vessels of seventy tons burthen. The grove, which occupies the space between the water and the abbey walls, consists chiefly of apple and pear-trees, which form a continuous girdle of orchards round the abbey church, and are particularly luxuriant and productive, on the site of the ancient burial-ground. The ring of offices with which the abbey was originally enclosed on nearly three sides, has almost disappeared, leaving only the foundations, upon which, from time to time, meanhovels have been hastily thrown together—ill adapted for the health, comfort, or even convenience of human beings.

The prominent features of the abbey as seen from this point, and taken in detail are—thenave, terminating in the great west window, with its own five lancet-pointed windows rising above the trees; the northtransept, part of the south, and two windows of thechancel.

Following the course of the river eastward, richly-wooded rocks are seen, closing the landscape, and commanding the minute and beautiful view of the “Vale of Tinterne,” already given as an illustration. All beyond the white sail on the stream is a scene of richly-wooded rocks on the left bank, and on the right a wide expanse of smooth and verdant meadows. The hills, immediately overlooking the abbey on the south, possess the same picturesque character as those opposite, but are enlivened by more frequent habitations, and with more traces of industry and cultivation. The ferry-house, close to the watergate, presents some features of antiquity; and stands, probably, on the old foundation of what was occupied by the abbot’sCharonof the olden time. A glance at the debris, under which some of the monastic buildings here lie half buried, suggests an idea that, with due permission and encouragement, antiquaries could hardly fail to discover excellent “diggings” in these purlieus. But thus far the prying archæologist has been regarded with suspicion and distrust, and condemned to look upon the antiquities of Tinterne as treasures laid up for the benefit of future generations.

V.—Doorway leading into the Cloisters.—This beautiful specimen of art is one of the very finest in the abbey. The elegance of the design is only surpassed by the elaborate taste and skill displayed in its execution. The clustered mouldings of the doorway; the wavy multifoil outline of the inner arch; the beautifully carved ornament that surrounds the whole like a riband of delicate lacework; the whole crowned with the symbolic trefoil resting on the apex of the arch, present a combination of features—all harmonizing, and all elaborately adjusted to one another—rarely to be met with even among the masterpieces of Decorated Gothic.[185]

Looking through this doorway, the window in the distance is that of the southern aisle, through which are seen the woods on the opposite hill; and inside the walls the ivy is seen climbing in verdant masses along the arches and pillars of the nave. Under the broken steps, where the group of figures is represented, are the remains of sepulchral stone-slabs, covering the resting-place of the old abbots, and formerly inlaid with the symbols of their holy office, as

The Door from Cloister into Sacristy.Tintern Abbey.

The Door from Cloister into Sacristy.

Tintern Abbey.

represented in the engraving. But thebrasseshave long since disappeared, and left only the empty grooves to which they had been so elaborately adjusted by the skilful artists of that day. Brasses, orLatten, are considered to be good illustrations of the architecture of their period, owing to the designs of canopies, crosiers, &c. delineated upon them. They are seldom to be met with in any reign prior to that of Edward the Second; nor did they become general till towards the close of the fourteenth century, when the effigies are commonly surmounted by arched canopies, ogee-shaped and crocketed, of the same kind of inlaid work elaborately engraven. These subsequently vary, according to the style of the age, and in general rather preceding than following it. Of the brasses, which—owing to the rank and character of its founder and benefactors, as well as its abbots and others—must have formed no inconsiderable feature in the decorations of Tinterne Abbey, not a fragment remains.

WhereLattenmarked the abbots’ grave,And sculpture spread her trophies round it;Rank weeds in wild luxuriance wave,And mock the gaudy shrine that crowned it.Here, they who for theCrosshad died,And they who led the way to glory—Here mitred pomp, and martial pride,Have not a stone to tell their story.

VI.—Doorway leading into the Sacristy.—This is a double doorway—a specimen of the Early English—divided by a moulded shaft, with a circular opening, or quatrefoil, over it. The outer arch is deeply ‘recessed,’ consisting of five or six successive shafts, or mouldings, on either side, without capitals, and meeting above at the centre of the arch. The inner arches are foliated, and the cusps richly fluted. Clasping this elegant and massive structure, the ivy has so incorporated itself with the masonry, that—massive as it is—art must gradually yield to that natural process which seems to make every root of ivy, if once insinuated between the jointed stones, act like a fulcrum for their dislodgment—

“Ha, ha!” laughs the Ivy, “let men uprearTheir ‘Castles and Abbeys,’ far and near;Pile upon pile, let their fabrics rise,Darkening the earth, and mocking the skies;Lifting their turrets so haughtily—Boasting their grandeur—but what care I?Buttress and bastion, cloister and hall—I conquer them all—I conquer them all!”

VII.—The Refectory.[186]—Of this building enough remains to show, that, in their palmy days, the Abbots of Tinterne had a truly noble hall for their private and state entertainments. Of refectories in general, some account has been already given at page 51 of this volume. Of the style of architecture employed in this dining-hall, the numerous windows, with their mullioned partitions, tall shafts, and foliated arches, face-shafts, and corbel heads along the walls, from which sprang the lofty groined vault that covered and connected the whole, present a tolerably distinct picture.

“Along the roof a maze of mouldings slim,Like veins that o’er the hand of lady wind,Embraced in closing arms the key-stone trim,With hieroglyphs and cyphers quaint combined,The riddling art that charmed the Gothic mind.”

With regard to the minor details, we may notice thedole, a small double aperture, near the archway on the left; and on the opposite side, is another door through which the dishes were handed in from the kitchen. Near the dole is a low-arched doorway in the eastern wall, showing the passage by which communication was kept up with the adjoining offices, the hospitium, the locutorium, and the dormitories. The situation of the reading-desk, or lectern, will be seen by referring to the newplanof the abbey here introduced; and this closes our notice of the engraved illustrations.

“On the whole,” says Grose, summing up his observations on Tinterne, “though this monastery is undoubtedly light and elegant, it wants that gloomy solemnity so essential to religious ruins; it wants those yawning vaults and dreary recesses, which strike the beholder with religious awe—make him almost shudder at entering them, and call into his mind all the tales of the nursery. Here, at one cast of the eye, the whole is comprehended, nothing is left for the spectator to guess or explore; and this defect is increased by the ill-placed neatness of the poor people who show the building, and by whose absurd labour the ground is covered over by a turf, as even and trim as that of a bowling-green, which gives the building more the air of an artificial ruin in a garden, than that of an ancient decayedabbey.”

“How unlike,” he adds, “the beautiful description of the poet!—

‘Half-buried there lies many a broken bust,And obelisk and urn, o’erthrown by time,And many a cherub here descends in dust,From the rent roof and portico sublime;Where reverend shrines in Gothic grandeur stood,The nettle or the noxious nightshade spreads;And ashlings, wafted from the neighbouring wood,Through the worn turrets wave their trembling heads.’”

These objections have been repeated by other writers of unquestionable taste; but we may venture to predict, that among the numerous strangers who annually resort to these deserted shrines, few will return home without expressions of unqualified admiration of “Tinterne, as it is.” The care employed by its noble owner in arresting the progress of decay, is creditable to his taste and reverence for antiquity. Had these ruins been consigned, as some would have had them, to the wasting hand of time, their vaulted wonders would long ere now have fallen piecemeal into the area beneath; but wherever a stone is observed to be losing its hold, the hand of art is immediately applied to restore it to its original place: and thus, what might have passed away in a few inclement seasons, has been propped up and secured for the delight of many generations to come.

And lo, these mouldering fragments to sustain,Her graceful network nature’s hand hath hung;Bound every arch with a supporting chain,And round each wall her living verdure flung;And o’er the floor that sepulchres the dead—The saints and heroes of departed years;The flower of memory lifts its modest head,And morning sheds her tributary tears.—W.B.

Poetical Votaries.—Having quoted so largely from chroniclers and other prose writers in the preceding pages, we must not quit the subject of Tinterne Abbey, without selecting a few stanzas from those minstrels who have sought and found inspiration on the spot. Wordsworth, from whose poem on the Wye we have already quoted, addresses the following

Lines to a Cistercian Monastery.

‘Here man more purely lives, less oft doth fall,More promptly rises, walks with nicer heed,More safely rests, dies happier; is freedEarlier from cleansing fires, and gains withalA brighter crown.’ On yonCistercianwallThatconfident assurance may be read;And, to like shelter, from the world have fledIncreasing multitudes. The potent callDoubtless shall cheat full oft the heart’s desire;Yet, while the rugged age on pliant kneeVows to rapt Fancy humble fealty,A gentler life spreads round the holy spires;Where’er they rise the sylvan waste retires,And aëry harvests crown the fertile lea.

Tinterne Abbey on the Wye.

Sudden the change; at once to treadThe grass-grown mansions of the dead.Awful to feeling, where, immense,Rose ruin’d grey magnificence;The fair wrought shaft all ivy-bound,The tow’ring arch with foliage crowned,That trembles on its brow sublime,Triumphant o’er the spoils of time.There, grasping all the eye beheld,Thought into mingling anguish swell’d,And checked the wild excursive wing,O’er dust or bones of priest or king;Or rais’d someStrongbowwarrior’s ghost,To shout before his banner’d host.But all was still. The chequered floorShall echo to the step no more;No airy roof the strain prolong,Of vesper chant or choral song—Tinterne! thy name shall hence sustainA thousand raptures in my brain;Joys, full of soul, all strength, all eye,That cannot fade, that cannot die.—Bloomfield.

Evening at Tinterne Abbey.

A pilgrim, at the vesper hour,I stood by Tinterne’s hallowed tower;While o’er the walls, in golden hue,The setting sun its farewell threw;Then, paling slowly, flushed and fled,Like a smile from the cheek of the recent dead.* * * *’Tis night—on the ivy-mantled wallsThe shadows deepen, and darkness falls;And forth from his roost, in the fretted aisle,The solemn owl wheels round the pile;But no lighted shrine, no vesper-song,Is seen, or heard, these aisles among;For hymnless now the day returns,And voiceless sets on their nameless urns;Nor laud, nor chant, nor matin chime,Retard the fleeting steps of time.* * * *The Shrine, from which the anthem rushed,When evening glowed, or morning blushed,Like them, who reared the pile on high—A landmark pointing to the sky;Like them, by slow and sure decay,That shrine is crumbling o’er their clay.—W.B., 1848.

The Abbey by Moonlight.

I tread the moonlitabbey! Oh, my soul,How nobly art thou struggling to be free,Spurning the temple’s, and the world’s control,And feeling most inadequate to theeThe loftiest dome, the grandest scenery;O’er views that would oppress thee or appal,Rising, like light bark o’er the mounting sea;And where, if weak or mortal thou wouldst fall,Expanding to survey and compass more than all!Palace of Piety! Devotion hereShould wear a crownèd angel’s robe of white,And antedate the ardours of a sphere,Where all is tranquil as this noon of night!The moon—the regal moon—intensely bright,Shines through the roseate window of the west;Each shaft, an artificial stalactiteOf pendent stone, with slumber seems oppressed,Or with a charmèd dream of peaceful rapture blessed.And through thy lofty arch, a single starIs gazing from a depth of spotless blue,As if to learn how soft thy splendours are,And feel them deeply, as I fain would do!While now supine upon thy pave of dewI let thy loveliness my soul pervade,And pass with unimpeded influence throughIts quiet depths, like moonlight through thy shade,To haunt with beauty still that shrine of hopes decayed.Forgive me,abbeyof the watered vale—Forgive that, when I feel my spirit swellWith an unwonted energy, I failTo hymn thy desolated glories well!Not yet the chrysalis has burst its shell—Not yet expanded its immortal wings;The restless rudiments of vast powers tellThe soul a deathless thing; from earth she springs,But fast and feebly falls, the while of thee she sings.J. C. Earle, St. Edmund’s Hall, Oxford.

Palace of Piety! Devotion hereShould wear a crownèd angel’s robe of white,And antedate the ardours of a sphere,Where all is tranquil as this noon of night!The moon—the regal moon—intensely bright,Shines through the roseate window of the west;Each shaft, an artificial stalactiteOf pendent stone, with slumber seems oppressed,Or with a charmèd dream of peaceful rapture blessed.

And through thy lofty arch, a single starIs gazing from a depth of spotless blue,As if to learn how soft thy splendours are,And feel them deeply, as I fain would do!While now supine upon thy pave of dewI let thy loveliness my soul pervade,And pass with unimpeded influence throughIts quiet depths, like moonlight through thy shade,To haunt with beauty still that shrine of hopes decayed.

Forgive me,abbeyof the watered vale—Forgive that, when I feel my spirit swellWith an unwonted energy, I failTo hymn thy desolated glories well!Not yet the chrysalis has burst its shell—Not yet expanded its immortal wings;The restless rudiments of vast powers tellThe soul a deathless thing; from earth she springs,But fast and feebly falls, the while of thee she sings.J. C. Earle, St. Edmund’s Hall, Oxford.

Tinterne Vesper-Hymn.

Like crimson on the dimpled WyeSleeps the glowing summer sky;O’er the landscape, widely thrown,Belted rock, and mountain cone;Hamlet, tower, and haunted stream,Are basking in the vesper-beam;And holyfriars, robed in white,Cross them in the waning light—Ave Maria!Now, along the abbey walls,Soft the purplegloamingfalls;Aloft, on every turret’s height,In the dim and doubtful light,Here retiring, there advancing,Weeds are waving, wings are glancing,And yon effigies of stoneSeem to hail the vesper-tone—Ave Maria!Deeper yet, and deeper still,From winding stream, and wooded hill,Shadowy cliff and ripplingweir,Nature’s music fills the ear;Notes of mingling praise and prayerFloat along the solemn air,Where, from cloistered arches dim,Swells the everlasting hymn—Ave Maria!Hark, ’tis midnight! but, unsleeping,Here their faithful vigil keeping;Palewhite friarsraise again,In lengthened chant, the solemn strain!Hark! throughout the sacred dwelling,High the mingled notes are swelling;Angels, stooping from the sky,Bear the sacrifice on high—Ave Maria!—W. B.1849.

Now, along the abbey walls,Soft the purplegloamingfalls;Aloft, on every turret’s height,In the dim and doubtful light,Here retiring, there advancing,Weeds are waving, wings are glancing,And yon effigies of stoneSeem to hail the vesper-tone—Ave Maria!

Deeper yet, and deeper still,From winding stream, and wooded hill,Shadowy cliff and ripplingweir,Nature’s music fills the ear;Notes of mingling praise and prayerFloat along the solemn air,Where, from cloistered arches dim,Swells the everlasting hymn—Ave Maria!

Hark, ’tis midnight! but, unsleeping,Here their faithful vigil keeping;Palewhite friarsraise again,In lengthened chant, the solemn strain!Hark! throughout the sacred dwelling,High the mingled notes are swelling;Angels, stooping from the sky,Bear the sacrifice on high—Ave Maria!—W. B.1849.

Of the Abbots of Tinterne the historical notices are very scanty. The following occur in the “Parliamentary Writs,” by Sir Francis Palgrave:—[187]

Back to Index Next