trees having been planted by the Chancellor Aislabie, about 1720, may be a useful criterion in estimating the growth of their species. The antique arrangement is now for awhile unperceived, and the murmur of falling waters attracts the eye from the parterres, and evergreens, and groves that adorn the declivity, across which we now proceed towards the unruffled stream that flows from a cavern o'ercanopied with dense and luxuriant beech. The old "peeps" are soon resumed, and the first is a surprise, across a declining bank of laurel and yew overhung with more graceful foliage, down the long canal, and so to the great lake in the parkthe Moon and Crescent Ponds, with their several terraces and statues filling the bosom of the valley on the right, and the Octagon Tower rising in the mid distance from a clump of firs. Soon after, we have another diversion through the laurels towards the statues of HERCULES AND ANTEUS in contention, in the most contracted pass of the dell; and a pillared DOME in the hanging woods beyond. Diverging, reluctantly, from the path rising through the woods towards the Abbey, but still canopied by "A covert of old trees, with trunks all hoar, we cross, to the opposite side of the valley, over a RUSTIC BRIDGE, where the stream is seen, gliding tranquilly through a verdant space adorned with terraces, and begirt with ancient trees. But, before we reach the other side of the valley, we stray into a wooded amphitheatre, filled with a translucent LAKE, whose refreshing expanse, crisped by the circling breeze, mirrors but the embrowned shades of accliving woods, and the airy forms of an inconstant sky. Anon, and the eye that will be gladdened by nothing but Nature naked and unadorned, will peer joyfully through the thicket on an irregular pool, where circumambient boughs image their glistening spray, and lave in waters that seem black and bottomless as oblivion. It is called "QUEBEC," and on its little island is a PILLAR to the memory of the gallant Wolfe, now hid in the tangled foliage. A few steps more and the expanse of the valley, in all its formality, yet, perhaps, in all its peculiar beauty, opens upon us near the Temple that rises in the grove by our side. The chief apartment being adorned with a mural basso-relievo of a female nourishing her captive father from her breast, the building is named the "TEMPLE OF PIETY." The bronze busts in the niches below contrast the characteristic heads of Titus and Nero. Awhile, and the scene which has been so airy and vivid is suddenly changed. Striking aside from the lawn into the wood, we wind up a toilsome path-by the sides of which, yews of no recent growth are rooted in the fissures of the shelving crag—and enter, at length, a subterranean PASSAGE, hewn, partially, in the rock. It seems neither long enough nor dark enough for the majority of its youthful visitants, but a local difficulty was thus pleasantly overcome. From the "OCTAGON TOWER," which during our ramble we have often seen, and now reached at last, we have a bird's-eye view of many of the objects we have visited. Studley Hall, too, is seen on the right; and, from the opposite window, How HILL,* with its mimic tower, rears its majestic head, begirt with verdurous shade. Though now passing a long and artless avenue of beech, unfortunately mingled with the grisly fir, we seem to tread the woodland slopes of the park, and are gladdened, through the slanting boughs, by its lowing herds and coursing groups of agile deer; we turn again, ere long, down a lofty aisle "Of beechen green, and shadows numberless," where the fitful murmur of the rushing stream reminds us of our elevated position. An opening towards the Park presents a view of MORKERSHAW LODGE; and another, of the ROMAN MONUMENT, impending high above the Skell. At length, we turn on the opposite side to a circular pillared dome, jutting into the valley, dedicated to Fame, and on all other sides similarly difficult of access. Pursuing hence the ample path, which noble oaks "high over arch'd embower," snatching, nevertheless, through the airy spray, occasional glimpses of the coming "Fountain dale," the guide, with innocent triumph, will, at last, throw open the doors of "ANNE *This hill, which rises in a conical form sufficiently high to form a remarkable object at the distance of more than twenty miles, is worthy of a visit from those whose time is not limited, and would consider themselves repaid by an almost boundless view of the great plain of York. It was anciently called Herleshow, as probably from being the place where the Saxon Earl of the county held his Court, as from its early possession by one who bore the name of Herle. The monks of Fountains had on the top of this hill a Chapel dedicated to St. Michael, which from an inscription walled into the present little tower, erected by Mr. Aislabie in 1718, appears to have been rebuilt or repaired by Abbot Huby, between 1494 and 1526. Soli Deo honor et gloria. M. H. BOLEYN'S SEAT," and unveil to the amazed and enraptured eye a scene where pen and pencil must fail. Now, all attention is, naturally, centred in the Abbey, and, fortunately, there is nothing previously to distract the eye. We begin, immediately, to hasten down a precipice, arched, deeply and picturesquely, in the woods; and, on arriving at the path by the side of the stream, will perhaps scarcely glance at the diversity of scenes which the union of the dense woods with their liquid mirror presents. Yet awhile may fancy beguile us with merry visions of the past. On this glade-doubt who can-the "Curtal Friar" of Fountains encountered Robin Hood, whom, as the old ballad goes, he at length threw into the Skell, and so grievously belaboured, that Robin, for once, turned coward, and called in the aid of his fifty stalwart yeomen; also that then the Friar whistled out as many of his good ban-dogs, but that Little John let his arrows fly so fast among them that the Friar, who "Had kept Fountain-dale, Seven long years and more," was brought to his senses and a truce. Before we reach the Abbey, we shall be seduced to halt on a shady knoll; and while reclining by the crystal WELL that still bears the Outlaw's name, may chant the "Rime of Robin Hod" in one of the sweetest spots associated with his name. Tradition points to a large bow and arrow, graven on the northeast angle of the Lady Chapel, as a record of this dire affray. They bear no affinity to the symbols used by the masons, but have, I fancy, induced the report, mentioned by Ritson, that Robin's bow and arrow were preserved at Fountains Abbey. FOUNTAINS ABBEY. 租 a LTHOUGH we have, some time ago, entered within the Close, we now pass into the immediate precinct of the Abbey, and feel at once disclosed " captivating scene of landscape and architectural beauty, a highly-interesting subject of contemplation, and a source of that pensive and pleasing melancholy in which the mind sometimes loves to indulge." Before, however, we proceed to a particular survey of the structure, it will be necessary to premise a few facts illustrative of its origin and history. The site of the Monastery was granted, in 1132, by Thurstan, Archbishop of York, out of his Liberty of Ripon, "to certain monks who had separated themselves from what they deemed the lax discipline of the Benedictine Abbey of St. Mary, in York, and resolved to adopt the Cistercian rule, which was then becoming famous from the reputed sanctity and daring enthusiasm of St. Bernard. Richard the Prior, with the sub-Prior, ten monks of St. Mary's, and Robert, a monk of Whitby, retired, in the depth of winter, to this secluded and, at that period, wild and uncultivated dell, where their territory was defined by the Archbishop, who had previously maintained them in his house. At first, their only shelter was under the impending rocks; but, after a while, they thatched an enclosure under an umbrageous elm, in the middle of the valley, which was even flourishing at the dissolution of the Abbey. Some yew-trees, also, near the ruin, are traditionally said to have sheltered these enthusiastic men. Having endured for two years such hardship as at length to subsist on boiled leaves and herbs, they prevailed on St. Bernard to remove them to one of the granges of his Abbey of Clairvaux, in Champagne; but the sudden accession of great wealth not only diverted them from their purpose, but laid the foundation of that magnificence of which such ample testimonies remain." The history of the Abbey is minutely related in the "Monasticon," from the narrative of Hugh, a monk of Kirkstall; written between the years 1225 and 1247, at the request of John, Abbot of Fountains, from the dictation of the venerable monk, Serlo, who was present at the departure of the brotherhood from St. Mary's, at York, and had witnessed most of the chequered scenes he has so pathetically and graphically recorded. Yet, as he was more anxious to recount the spiritual trials and triumphs of his brethren than the secular history of their house, we find few allusions to the progress of the structure, or to the scientific acquirements of those by whom it was promoted. We learn, however, that after the election of the Abbot, Henry Murdac, to the See of York, about 1146, some partisans of his deposed predecessor, disappointed in their expectation of finding Murdac here, set fire to the Monastery, which, with half of “the Oratory," was consumed. The convent, aided by the neighbouring gentry, immediately repaired an injury which, however extensive, had doubtless been confined to the inflammable portions of the building; but, since every part of it had been erected within fourteen years, existing remains cannot aid us in the investigation. During the remainder of the twelfth century, the work of building never can have ceased, though it is probable, from our knowledge of the characters of the Abbots Fastolph, and his successor, Robert, that in their time it progressed with unusual vigour. On the decease of Ralph, the seventh Abbot, in 1203—a period when there was such an unusual number of monks in the house, that there was |
