VALLE CRUCIS ABBEY.

THE Vale of Crucis opens into the beautiful scenery of Llangollen, about

two miles from the little village. Fancy cannot paint a scene more

suited to the indulgence of solemn thought. It is the spot which a

recluse, enamoured of the great scenes of nature, where the eye is

continually presented with sublime ideas, where every object contributes

to soothe, but not transport the mind, would select as an habitation of

cheerful solitude. In the days of its greatness it must have been a

place consecrated to retirement, but now how much is the solitude of the

scene heightened by the accompaniment of a ruined abbey shrouded in

forest trees that wave over its mouldering towers,—

Say, ivy’d Valle Crucis; time decay’d

Dim on the brink of Deva’s wandering floods,

Your ivy’d arch glittering through the tangled shade,

Your gray hills towering o’er your night of woods;

Deep in the vale recesses as you stand,

And, desolately great, the rising sigh command:

Say, lonely ruin’d pile, when former years

Saw your pale train at midnight altars bow,

Saw superstition frown upon the tears

That mourn’d the rash, irrevocable vow,

Were one young lip gay Eleanora’s {77} smile?

Did “Zara’s look serene one tedious hour beguile?”

The foundation of the Cistercian Abbey of Valle Crucis is attributed to

Gryffydd ap Madoc Maelor, Lord of Bromfield and Yale, about the year

1200; considerable parts of both church and abbey still remain. The

former was cruciformed, and exhibits several styles of architecture. The

eastern end is the most ancient; it is adorned by three lancet slips,

forming one grand window. The entrance was in the west beneath a broad

and beautifully ornamented window, above which is a smaller one of a

marigold form, decorated with tracery and fret work, and under it may be

discovered the following inscription:

A.D.A.M. D.N.S.—fecit hoc opus, pace beatâ quiescat. Amen.

The abbey and cloisters are more imperfect, the latter evidently built in

a rich and ornamental style of architecture, well calculated to shed a

“dim religious light,” but now desecrated into a farm house and offices.

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